(Name) was simply at the kitchen cooking lunch for her and her husband. But she was interrupted by a loud girlish shriek from her backyard followed by a string of curses.
She immediately dropped what she was doing and rushed outside. When she made it, the scene made her laugh.
There was, her husband, Hoseok–crazed and half-climbing on their garden wall. The frog was already on the coffee table, his tea was spilled and his favorite book was lying on the grass. Hoseok frowned at his wife, she was laughing at him instead of helping him to get rid of the frog.
When she had her break from her laugh, she asked him, “You’re the one who shrieked?”
“N-no, there was a lady who walked across the street. She got into an accident I think…” He replied with a taste of sarcasm.
(Name) walked towards the frog and picked it up. “I didn’t know that you’re afraid of frogs.” She teased.
“Me? Nooo…” He was still on the wall waiting for his wife to get rid of the thing. “I’m not afraid of them.”
She grinned. “If you’re not afraid of them, then tell me why are still sitting on the wall?” She questioned as she caressed on the frog.
“Because I have a better view of you in here.” Hoseok mumbled. “You better move that frog away from me or…”
He didn’t managed to finish his sentence as (Name) give a hand leap on the frog and of course the frog jumped on Hoseok and shrieked loudly as he jumped on the other side of the wall.
What kind of activity would the Nordics do with their S/O?
Denmark: Pillow forts, pillow fights, baking, video gaming, karaoke, going on super crazy adventures, and at the end on the day, cuddling together with a fairytale or a classic movie.
Norway: Go on long walks, winter activites, intellectual games (incredibly competitve ones) and reading stories together.
Iceland: Long walks through nature, visiting different museums, tickle fights, tag, pillow fights, surfing the web, simply talking.
Finland: Cooking/baking, competitive games, inventing their own games, watching cheesy movies.
Sweden: (obviously) handcrafts and lots of DIY projects, long walks, tickle fights (for some reason?) sometimes random piggybacks, competitive board games, non-fiction reading (history, biographies, ect.) (for some reason?)
Here is a Techno Witch who created an app for themselves to make some virtual weapons and things they can use in real life to fight or simply play, cook, practice sports etc. I really imagine them spending day in their room coding and night outside, playing the vigilante. That was a really cool one to work on!
henlo i am so sorry this one sucks too i wrote this at like 3 am they will get better i prOMISE
Max: Depending on the day of week, nights with Max were unpredictable. Fridays, for example, he usually spent with friends in a pub. He’d invite you, of course, but you declined. Instead, you enjoyed nights in with Max watching him film, sitting on his lap whilst he edits, or simply cooking dinner together. These were the nights that usually made the best memories, after all. He’d never admit it, but these nights are favorites of Max’s. He just loves spending time alone with you, regardless of what you’re doing.
Joji: Both you and Joji are night owls, so you both enjoyed going out on the town. Sometimes you’d bring others, sometimes you wouldn’t. Sometimes you’d go somewhere lively like a concert, other times you’d prefer to visit somewhere intimate, like a hole-in-the-wall sushi restaurant. The nights would usually end with the two of you catching an Uber home together, your fingers intertwined, discussing the long night you’d both just enjoyed.
Ian: Nights with Ian were the most unpredictable a time of day could be. He usually decided how you’d spend the night, since he was sometimes indecisive. Some nights were spent cuddling on the couch and watching a movie, others were spent out and about, running errands and whatnot. Usually, however, if he was with Max and Joji, he’d want to go out with them. He’d ask you to come, but you happily declined. Although, he would probably send you drunk selfies all night.
black licorice (twizzlers aren’t licorice, get the stuff from the bin in bulk foods. If you really want to splurge, get the Panda all-natural licorice and cry after you eat the entire expensive box in 15 minutes.)
coleslaw it’s a fucking salad also put it in sandwiches for crunch
potato/noodle salads seriously just try them they taste good, you’d eat that shit if it was baked in a casserole dish
jello salads yes that includes the ones with cottage cheese. If you all just got over your revulsion at seemingly dissimilar ingredients and put a spoonful in your mouth, you’d like 99% of these things. They are the absolute shit at potlucks.
olives first of all there’s like 6 kinds of varying intensities and you’re not supposed to just eat them whole, they go with cheese or salad ffs
Seriously stop spreading hate for perfectly decent food items and go learn how to cook and also learn about what flavors go well together and stop dismissing ingredient combinations out of hand. Someday you will bless me for telling you that literally anything can go in a noodle/potato salad or a casserole. Good fucking night.
It had been almost an entire year since I had spent the
first weekend with Jiyong, and we had become quick best friends. We spent most
nights out of the week together, aside from weekends, cooking and simply
enjoying each other’s company. We rarely left the comfort zone of my apartment,
and the few times we did, it was to private art showings and a couple small
Jiyong didn’t take me around many of his friends, and I soon
realized that if Seunghyun and Youngbae hadn’t been there when I first met
them, I wouldn’t have ever been introduced. It was clear that I wasn’t like his
other friends, and at first I liked the feeling of having such a private
friendship. The first time Jiyong and I kissed after having one too many
glasses of wine, the thought that it was the beginning of a mistake was quickly
dismissed. It became the typical friends with benefits relationship—secretive
Much like making ink from berries, certain vegetables can produce vibrant inks with decent shelf lives. Although a lot of vegetables cannot be used for inks because they simply cook down into a broth, root-based vegetables such as red radishes, beets, and purple potatoes produce dark and colorful inks, and onions can produce lighter inks. The method for making ink from vegetable is fast and simple! My favorite vegetable to use for ink is purple potatoes.
Vegetable of choice
Knife and cutting surface
1 teaspoon Salt
Glass Storage Container
1 and ½ teaspoon Gum Arabic (not optional)
Pick out the vegetables of choice, wash it, and dry it.
Cut the vegetables into thin slices/small pieces and place them into the pot. If using red onions, make sure to use the entire onion including the skin.
Add enough vinegar to the pot to cover the vegetables, and cook for 15 minutes on medium heat. Crush and mash the vegetables in the pot to extract as much juice as possible.
Remove the vegetables from the heat and allow it to cool.
Once cool, strain the liquid from the vegetables into a container of choice, adding salt and gum Arabic.
Headcanon: There’s this flower in Po’s hand when he’s talking to Oogway’s statue and he took it with him when he left there. Now he would not throw it on the way, that’s just not Po. So I like to think that he goes back to barracks kitchen where everyone is sitting and simply chatting and cooking and stuff and he casually puts it in front of Tigress with a “Here, I got you this.” and everyone is staring at him and he doesn’t even notice and easily moves Monkey aside and starts cooking and Tigress is just glad her fur hides most of her blush.
They are cute. I think they balance each other out nicely.
“I thought I had lost everything. I didn’t want to believe in good anymore. You made me believe there was still good. You made me believe I was still good.” - Michonne
“This world has tried to destroy me. You have been one of the only things that’s tried to keep me together.” -Rick
Rick looked over at Michonne as she roughly chopped the carrots they had gotten earlier. He watched as she picked up handfuls and dropped them in the boiling pot of water on the wood burning stove next to her. They had come so far and been through so much it seemed quite odd to see Michonne simply cooking dinner.
Rick put down the potato he was peeling and walked over to wrap his arms around Michonne’s slender waist. He kissed her neck and felt her shudder as his beard brushed against her soft skin.
“Wish we could have this every day.” Rick looked down into the boiling water as he spoke.
“Warm food?” Michonne smiled returning to cutting more of the carrots. Her head leaned back slightly to silently tell Rick she enjoyed the contact.
“Peace.” Rick answered, his chin moving to rest on Michonne’s shoulder.
“We could. Someday.” Michonne tried to sound hopeful, but their history had proved that the scenario of peace didn’t seem likely.
“As long as I have you I can wait until someday.” Rick whispered and slowly kissed Michonne’s neck.
We exchange recipes. More often, I am sent recipes and I mean to do something with them but then I am too lazy or too busy or, as has been the case lately, I am simply not home to cook. But I had a week, well, three weeks at home. That time is coming to the end. I am not thrilled about it. I need more time to just decompress. I kind of ran myself ragged this academic year. I will not be doing that next year. Something’s gotta give and so, something will, and it will be the right decision.
But at the beginning, I had this recipe for a kale salad and it required massaging the kale which demanded an intimacy with roughage I had never anticipated. Massaging kale is a fairly literal practice. You drizzle the kale with olive oil and then you rub it between your fingers until it wilts, until it decides to be less like kale than it is naturally intended to be. That is, you rub the kale into submission.
After separating the kale leaves from the stems, I massaged a good quantity of kale, wondering what had become of me. I am inherently opposed to kale. It tastes gamy, in the vegetable sense. It takes so much effort to chew. This was tiring, and it took a long time. It was tiring because I did it after a long day at work and I’m lazy. We’ve established that.
When the kale has been thoroughly massaged, it takes up less room. It seems meeker, more tender, almost edible. It’s still kale though. That vegetable can’t fool me.
I keep waiting to be treated badly. Does anyone else do this? Literally every day I think, Today is the day when things will change, when I will overstay my emotional welcome, when this person will decide that treating me well is beyond what I deserve. Every nicety, every act of kindness feels like something I need to lock in a vault. It all makes me realize that my threshold for being treated decently was desperately low for like, all of my adult life. I am full of great advice and lofty standards for my friends. Do this, don’t put up with that. When it comes to myself, it’s like, well, you’re garbage so the rules aren’t the same for you. I get mad at myself when I realize this, when I realize how passive I can be, how I try to be invisible in my own life, how I try to not take up space or require anyone else’s attention or energy. Seriously, I am not a role model. I am 41 and I am basically a trainwreck. I am sitting on my sexy couch chewing ice. The ice is great. My teeth are like, “Girl, what is your fucking problem?”
Meanwhile, everyone I know is getting engaged and having babies and getting married. I know this because Facebook throws that shit in my face to remind me that for the 12th year in a row, I live alone in a rural college town full of both polite and impolite racists who are likely to vote for a man with a fake tan and a bleached toupee.
I am happy for everyone having Facebook official life events. Unless I hate you, in which case, fuck you.
I added shredded carrots and shredded purple cabbage to the kale. So so pretty. Food is better when it is colorful. Life is better when it is colorful. I don’t mean that in a cheesy way. I just mean that, sometimes, my world is exploding with color, and I want that full time instead of in irregular but regular spurts.
Blah blah blah. There was a bunch of emotional vomit here but then I deleted it.
I am going to write a movie this summer. I am going to write other things, too, but I am going to write a movie!!! I need to read a book on how to do that.
I chopped up some almonds and added those to the mix along with some feta cheese. While all this was happening, I was roasting chicken breasts in my oven.
Our Queen, Beyoncé, as if she needs to be named, released a new album and I love it. I love it from front to back and all the way through. I am writing about it. I want to take my time but editors are all, “What’s the status of this?” and I’m like, it’s been three days. Earlier in my writing career, I could churn work out at a rapid pace because I had to. I could still do that if I had to. I am lucky I don’t have to, anymore. I don’t want to. I want to like, take a few days or weeks or maybe even longer. I’m learning and growing as a writer and that takes time. Each time I write an essay, a story, a book, I want it to be better than the last.
When the chicken was ready, I cut it up and added it to the salad along with raisins because raisins are delicious and I was pretty skeptical about most everything else in this salad. I needed a friendly food item in the salad. (I do also love carrots and almonds and purple cabbage, but they were connected to the dreaded kale.)
I exhaust myself. I am bored with myself. I want to be bold and make a bold change that will push me closer to happiness. I am terrified.
A few weeks ago, I came home and there was a bottle of wine and a card from two neighbors who said they were fans and had just figured out I live in their building and they didn’t want to be intrusive but they wanted to say hi. I was so touched! I don’t know any neighbors.
Anyway, I texted them, because they left their number on the card and we recently went out to dinner. They are a hot Brazilian couple with amazing haircuts, fashion sense, and good taste in wine. One is a vet and one is a molecular biologist, NO BIG DEAL. I was like, “Umm, I’m a writer? I write things?” They are funny and I think we will be friends. I am sharing this so you know that not EVERYTHING is morose and gloomy.
I tossed the salad together and it was quite pretty and healthful looking but I wasn’t psyched to put it in my mouth. There was so much kale and I could hear it taunting me. Basically, the kale was talking shit to me, saying, “You can’t handle this, go eat a french fry and make the same bad choices you’ve been making for the past twenty years.” Well, I hate being taunted so I told that kale, “I’ll show you.” And then I stared at it in what I hope was an intimidating way.
I wrote a book about me and my body and I’ve dragged my heels on it but it’s about done now, so many months late, I am carrying some deep shame about it and putting this book out into the world is one of the hardest things I will ever do but I am going to do it because I think the book is okay and I think people will at least find some solace in the book, some recognition that living in a body, living in a fat body in this shitty world, is hard.
As people are wont to say, this is not like coal mining or anything, but why do people qualify what they find difficult in terms of extremes? Why is it so uncomfortable just owning that sometimes, life is difficult, and books are difficult and exposing yourself is difficult even if it is something you have chosen to do, with sound mind and body.
I put some of the salad in a pretty dish in the hopes that it would somehow, by aesthetic virtue, make the salad more edible. I dressed it with a balsamic dressing. I took a bite and it was okay and then I took another bite and another, and turns out, the salad is excellent, delicious even. It lasted five days! I ate healthy for five days in a row, by choice. I don’t even know what’s happening to me.
There are, unfortunately, a lot of women who think they’re “married” to
men who simply “employ” them – to cook, clean, take care of children,
etc. All for a meal ticket and a roof over their heads. These women
don’t seem to make the connection, but, well, they’ve got their “perks”
and when hubby leaves them for a younger and newer model, without the
aged motor and scratches, they seem to be surprised.
Manslation: Many men are lying, unfaithful, amoral, and unable to meaningfully relate to women–and this is somehow women’s fault.
Our dear Komi the Spice Shiba is head chef here at StuffinFluff Cooking, and so he deserved a post explaining what he’s all about to all newcomers! This will work as a post that I can refer back to whenever Komi is used in a recipe, in case anyone is curious about the character. ;)
Don’t let Komi’s cute little frowny face fool you. It masks a love of cooking that is simply boiling over! StuffinFluff Cooking is all about bringing our followers a variety of recipes and food facts, with a team of adorable plush animals as our chefs!
Zachary was just getting home from work. It had been another late night shift and, but that’s what happened when you owned a bar. Besides, Zachary didn’t believe in simply being just an owner. As owner, he worked the bar himself oftentimes or helped out in other places where they might be under staffed. The only place he didn’t really do much in, was the kitchen simply because Zachary’s cooking skills, although had improved over the years, still left much to be desired and he left that up to his chefs.
It was nearing three in the morning and Zachary doubted Katherine was awake. As he entered the living room, he found his very pregnant wife sleeping on the couch. She often liked to wait up for him. Or try to, but she very rarely succeeded. He moved to where she slept and sat on the very edge, where she’d left a little bit of space and ran a hand over her arm. “You’d be more comfortable in bed,” he whispered to her. She nearly always woke up when he came home. “You can’t be comfortable sleeping on the couch like this.” He leaned forward and placed a kiss on her lips.