#Cooking Workshop for Chefs

[mypersonalchefusa]

My Personal Chef

Website: https://www.mypersonalchef.net/

Address: Orange County, CA; Los Angeles County, CA; San Diego County, CA; (California, USA)

My Personal Chef specializes in delivering an authentic and personalized sushi catering experience in California. Chef Thiago, with his expertise in sushi-making honed in Brazil and the US, brings a fusion of textures and flavors to your special occasions. Whether it's a private dinner, a business meeting, or a sushi party, our team ensures a unique culinary journey tailored to your taste and budget.

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/mypers.chef

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/mypersonal.chef/

Tiktok: https://www.tiktok.com/@mypersonal.chef

Linktr: https://linktr.ee/mypersonalchef

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[ramencookingclasses]

Learn How to Make Ramen

Have you ever craved a delicious bowl of ramen and wished you could make it at home just as well as your favorite ramen shop? Look no further!

Here, you can Learn to Make Ramen in your kitchen. Whether you're a beginner or an aspiring ramen chef, our comprehensive program has something for everyone.

Don't miss this opportunity to elevate your cooking skills and impress your friends and family with restaurant-quality ramen. Contact us at info@babaramen.com to reserve your spot today!

[cherrychispas]

the best time of my life! i met my favourite chef

[brainddeadd]

Tarek Yassin Skylar aka Taz Skylar:

5 December 1995

Born in Spain

Father of Lebanese decent, mother of English decent

Dyslexic (legally illiterate)

Dropped out of high school at 15

Had a car accident that caused a concussion which meant he couldn't join the British Army

Actor and screenwriter

Did his own stunts for opla

Took professional cooking classes for opla

Took professional kickboxing classes for opla

Became chef for the production team for opla

Taz’s debut play WARHEADS examined PTSD in young soldiers and was based on the experiences of a childhood friend

Runs the charity ANYONE CAN WRITE that runs free workshops for 30 to 50 young writers who are from low-income backgrounds

A boy that’s afraid of the water learns how to ride it.

[aetherdoesthings]

Hey! 👋🏽 Can we get some slow dancing in the kitchen on a rain day with Sanji? Sanji seems like the type of romantic to like that. I'm sorry I don't have more to the ask, I've just been thinking about it all day lol

hey :)! sorry this took a while. i had quite the busy week.

forethoughts: okay a lot of things is happening in my life rn so i tried to finish a request. my work, social, romantic (somehow) life started to culminate in one but it's fine :D. a little rushed imo, so rlly sorry if it isn't good.

notes: gn!reader, fluff, slow dancing?

On some days of the Sunny, it wouldn’t be as bright and shiny. Whenever the ship traversed through harsher seas and rougher terrains, terrible storms would alway ensue. Some days you’d be lucky, and it would only be a drizzle and you were just confined inside. Some days you weren’t, and it would turn into an all hands on deck type of scenario. Thankfully, Nami had reported it was just a light rain, and the Sunny would pass the rainy patch in a day or two. That meant the entire crew was stuck inside. Robin and Nami would be in their respective offices; Robin in the library researching poneglyphs and Nami busy drawing maps. Zoro was probably asleep or training. Luffy, Usopp and Chopper would be trying to find some type of game they could play without wrecking the place. Franky was somewhere in his workshop building something new. 

You laid down on the dining table, arms out as you stared at the ceiling. Your boyfriend was busy in the kitchen cooking up a snack for you to eat, humming a nonexistent tune. You would be lying if you said you were happy with your current condition. You hated rainy days; everyone hated rainy days. As much as you all respected Franky for building the Sunny and decorating the inside, it was not stimulating enough to cure your boredom. 

Sanji seemed to take notice, letting out a little chuckle. “Why the frown, dear?”

“I’m bored.” You replied flatly.

“Do you plan on staying like this the entire day? Lying down in the center of the dining table like a sacrifice?”

“Yes. I would very much rather be a sacrifice than be stuck inside.”

"Surely you wouldn't occupy the table for the rest of the day. "

"Try me."

Sanji chuckled. “But I need to serve dinner eventually.”

“I’ll move.” You shifted your body, gazing at your blonde haired personal chef as he walked towards you, one of his hands carrying your favorite snack. He set it in front of your face, a warm and comforting smile on his.

“Don’t frown, okay, dear? As much as I love how cute you look when you pout, I don’t like seeing you sad. It makes me sad.” Sanji’s hand ran through your hair, ruffling it up a bit. You instinctively let out a chuckle at his action, reluctantly sitting up and taking the plate. Sanji got onto the table next to you, staying by your side as you ate the food. He watched you devour the plate without leaving a single crumb. You set the plate by your side, prompting Sanji to jump off the table, offering a hand towards you. With his ‘help’, your feet made contact with the ground again, your hand resting in Sanji’s. In a single motion, he pulled your body close to yours, wrapping his arms around your shoulder. 

Suddenly, music started to play from nowhere, serene jazz music filling the empty kitchen. You figured Brook was lurking somewhere on the rafters, just hanging by a bone and playing his violin. Or maybe it was a tone dial. Nevertheless, music filled your ears, blocking out the sound of the pouring rain. Sanji’s footwork was light as ever, making you unable to sense where he was or what his next move was. You could only tell by his breathing where he was, feeling the wind brush against your neck and graze your cheek. The chef held you close to his body, perfectly aligning it with his like two puzzle pieces fitting together. Sanji’s touch was gentle and reassuring, as if to convey all his love and affection through the warmth of his embrace. You rested your head on Sanji’s chest, hearing the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, feeling the rise and fall of his breath. With every step Sanji led, your worries and troubles faded away, love and affection filling the space. All your focus was on the man in front of you. The kitchen slowly transformed into your little oasis, a place of love and solace, rid of anxiety or stress.

Maybe some rainy days weren’t that bad after all. 

[fatehbaz]

“He was the messenger of a great spirit,” says René Montaño, a Comcaac linguist. [...] Montaño is addressing the entire community at a cultural festival in the Comcaac territory in what is today northwestern Mexico. He talks about how their ancestors learned that xnois (Zostera marina), a type of seagrass also known as eelgrass, could feed their people.

“Zostera marina is paramount for us,” Montaño says. “There are other parts of the world where it barely exists, but here, in this channel, there’s plenty. [...]”

Comcaac [...] fishers learned that it was a food that would give them the necessary strength to survive long ways at sea, and the different ways it could be prepared were passed down from generation to generation. In the past few decades, this knowledge has been largely neglected. Today, the Comcaac people are breathing new life into it.

Comcaac environmentalists Alberto Mellado and Erika Barnett [...] have been developing a study since 2020 [...]. The Infiernillo Channel, located between the Sonora coast and Tiburón Island -- the largest island in Mexico and a sacred site for the Comcaac people -- is a Ramsar site, meaning it’s a wetland of key global importance. It features seagrass meadows, mangrove estuaries, and small patches of coral reefs where various marine species feed. [...] The channel is also home to 81 species of invertebrates endemic to the Gulf of California, and various threatened species, like totoabas (Totoaba macdonaldi) and sea turtles. [...]

In early 2022, as part of this initiative, the team created an event that brought together chefs and biologists from Sonora, the U.S. and Spain who were interested in the culinary uses of xnois and in the conservation of seagrass. There, the Comcaac cooks shared their knowledge about the ancestral ways of preparing xnois: ground by hand to make flour for tortillas or tostadas, or as a drink made with warm water combined with honey [...]. Newer ways of preparing xnois were also on show, such as in energy bars, hotcakes, and bread in combination with wheat flour. [...]

Today, it’s Comcaac [...] like Laura Molina working to promote the benefits of xnois [...]. In a workshop [...], she flattens small dough balls into tortillas and toasts them over a fire. She says the first time she heard about this ancestral food was from her grandmother. Years later, she asked her mother to teach her how to prepare it. [...]

Erika Barnett says her great-grandparents were probably the last ones in the family to harvest eelgrass for the seeds. She says the fact that her father, now 76, can once again eat food prepared with xnois represents a great success. “The last time he’d eaten it, he was 7 years old,” she says. “Most young people have never tasted it, so this effort is really rescuing our culture.” [...] “The guys and my colleagues didn’t know how to prepare xnois, but I’m happy because we’re teaching them and the kids and adults who want to learn,” Molina says. “This is thanks to our ancestors. [...] [T]hey opened the path that led us here.”

---

Headline, images, captions, and text as published by: Astrid Arellano. “Indigenous Comcaac serve up an oceanic grain to preserve seagrass meadows.” Mongabay. Translated by Maria Angeles Salazar. 3 March 2023. [Photos by Asstrid Arellano. This story was reported by Mongabay’s Latam team and first published on their Latam site on 6 June 2022. Some paragraph breaks added by me.]

[the-ace-with-spades]

For the celebrity chef Bradley AU, featuring kinda jealous Jake...

(I'm not writing it, just to be clear, but different scenarios keep popping up in my mind and I need them OUT)

So, to recap from my prev post about this AU, Bradley became a celebrity chef by taking part in Hell's Kitchen-like reality TV show and impressing the show lead chef, first working as his sous chef after the show and then opening his own Michelin-starred restaurant.

He and Jake met and Jake didn't know he was a celebrity chef because he doesn't watch TV, doesn't know shit about the cooking world and Bradley doesn't look like the type at all.

They've been together for some time at this point, Jake is still a bit of a shithead about Bradley's cooking (a tough critic, he likes to call himself) and Bradley gets an offer to come in for a new HK-like show season as a sous chef or supporting lead chefs for one of the teams and offers Jake to come with him to Los Angeles for the ten weeks he's going to be filming since Jake is on leave. He's going to be returning with another contestant from his season, Monica, and will run cooking workshops for the contestants behind the scenes.

Jake isn't a fan of reality shows — he hasn't even watched the HK season where Bradley was the contestant — and not a fan of Los Angeles so he's like No, thank you and Bradley goes alone.

Jake tells Javy about this when Bradley is gone for like two weeks already and Javy, who is a bit too emotionally involved into cooking shows, gets all cagey until Jake prods him and Javy is all like, "So, were the rumors true? About Bradley and Monica, I mean. Did they really...?"

"Did they really what?"

And Javy, the HK fan number one, gets Jake a brief overview of the lore. The lore being that Bradley and Monica were the finalists of their HK edition and Bradley, who had been named an individualist focused on winning from the beginning (and disliked by anyone who wasn't paired with him for both being skilled and brutally honest) had a soft spot for her. Any time they could choose a pair for a challenge, they'd choose each other, they had a wicked banter going on, and at some point at the end of the show, they were filmed sleeping in the same bed (or bedroom? It wasn't clear). The night before the finale they fell asleep cuddling on the couch together.

Obviously, viewers went shipper crazy and the rumors about Bradley and Monica were mad and never really died down (they've been seen together a few times after filming).

Bradley's never talked to Jake about Monica. In fact, he didn't even mention she was the one he lost to when he was telling Jake about the return to the show.

So, maybe Jake spirals a little and maybe some of his insecurities show up — he is aware in the eyes of the general public, there is a big disproportion of success between him, a naval officer, and Bradley, the world-renewed celebrity chef. Bradley earns a shit ton of money and is well-known and one of the best in his industry, Jake is just, well, a good naval aviator. He's also, despite being such a hard critic towards Bradley's skills, not much of a cook — there's a lot he doesn't understand about Bradley's job and he's not sure he could actually ever be as good as he is, not to mention so knowledgeable, sometimes he doesn't understand what Bradley is ranting to him about or what he's making, etc. Someone who works in the food industry would have much more common than he and Bradley have, and probably would be able to understand him more.

Their relationship isn't public, mostly because Jake has no desire to be a celebrity spouse, but also because he's aware Bradley dating a guy would bring a lot of uproar still.

He binge-watches the HK edition Bradley took part in and suddenly regrets not being more public about their relationship, not being Bradley's plus one to the big events or not letting Bradley talk about him in interviews.

He understands why there were rumors — Bradley and Monica had chemistry. They looked cute together, they obviously had a lot of respect for each other, and they almost seemed to be a level above all the other contestants. He knows some of the show is staged, but Bradley seemed so critical of everyone but Monica, only ever working seamlessly if he was a leader in the groups (during service or challenges) or if he was paired up with Monica.

Jake doesn't really use much social media but he googles and then stalks her a bit — sees the promotional material with Bradley and her on insta, for both the current and past show seasons, sees how they look at each other during interviews, all warm and soft and playful, and sees that people still ask about their relationship. And something just sets him off.

Bradley's never talked about Monica to him.

So maybe he's being impulsive but he drives to Los Angeles and goes straight to Bradley's hotel room to talk. He doesn't say anything because when he arrives, he finds out Bradley and Monica have rooms next to each other and they're literally talking to each other in the corridor, all nice and cozy with Bradley hovering over her, when Jake shows up.

He stays and follows Bradley around on the show's filming site. Maybe he is a bit of an ass to Monica, and more of an ass than usually to Bradley.

Maybe Bradley gets mad at him for behaving the way he does. Maybe they fight. Maybe Bradley even tells him to go home and let him work if he's going to be like that to his coworkers and the people on set.

Maybe Jake explodes in his face.

[nethhiri]

Marooned: Chapter 10

Kid X FemReader x Killer

Had big plans for Chapter 10 but decided to split it into two chapters. Felt like it would flow better.

Warnings: attempted SA, violence, murder

Femme Fatale

It was your third day on the ship and you woke up on the floor of the infirmary after slipping off Mini's side at some point in the night. Getting off the ground was harder than you wanted it to be. My back is so fucked. You stretched until the pain softened and then went to the mess hall, this time with everyone else. The outfit that you had made from hand-me-downs was much better than what you had on, but since it was a dress, you didn't really want to wear it until you had panties. You knew if you tried to wear it without them, a wardrobe malfunction would inevitably happen. 

After grabbing your plate, you looked around for a place to sit, eyes from all around darted to you. It felt like your first day at the marine academy all over again. You saw Heat, but he was with the higher ranking people. The girls all sat together at one end of a table. That was your best bet, though you hadn't had female friends in a while. As a kid, you looked like a boy and hung out with the boys for the most part. And in your more recent life, you were the only female on the crew. Approaching the table, your foot hit something and you nearly tripped. Catching yourself, you turned to see what you tripped over and saw the same man that didn't heed your advice about the poisonous fruit retract his foot. The son of a bitch tried to trip you. Him and his buddies snickered at you, stopping pretty quickly after you stared them down. You weren't a captain anymore, but you still carried an aura of authority. It had always been second nature. You rolled your eyes, heading towards the girls. Losers.

"Mind iff I sit?" you nodded towards an empty space.

"Go ahead," a kind looking woman with big hair slapped the spot next to her. "I'm Quincy. Sorry about Synth over there. He's new." 

"I see," you eyed him. You ate without saying anything else.

"You're taking care of Killer, right? He usually cooks and it's MUCH better than this. I promise."

You shrugged, "It's the best stuff I've eaten in a few years." Curiosity about Killer tickled your mind. You wondered how good of a chef he was. It was odd for a first-mate to also cook.

"I hope Killer wakes up soon. Captain is getting agitated. I think he locked himself in his workshop all day yesterday." Quincy was sort of rambling.

A very petite woman with green pigtails spoke up, "Yeah we put bets that he was with you, new girl, since you were missing all day, too." You found out later she was called Dive. "But you're walking fine so I guess not." 

You blinked at her and felt your face turn red. "Gross." You hid behind your napkin, pretending to wipe your mouth off while you willed your face to cool off. Much of your day alone yesterday was spent bitching to Killer's unconscious form about how much Kid annoyed you, which then somehow evolved into daydreaming about hate-fucking him. The rest of the table sat up a little straighter as a harsh flick to the back of your head alerted you to the presence of the Red Menace.

"What's gross now?" He put his hands on yours and Quincy's shoulders and leaned down with his signature smirk.

As the rest of the group was a chorus of "nothing", your voice stood out, "You." You ducked to shake his hand from your shoulder, grabbing your plate and heading to put it up.

"HAH?" There was stomping coming up behind you. Quickening your pace, you slipped out onto the deck and waited there with your arms crossed. You thought about going to the infirmary, but it was nice outside, and you wanted to see why Kid came up to you in the first place. The door to the deck slammed open and he made a beeline for you, holding a mop. "ROTTEN!" He shoved it at you. "I want this deck spotless or yer gonna be at the bottom of the ocean." 

Taking the mop from him, you conceded, "Aye, Captain." 

Kid narrowed his amber eyes in your direction. He expected you to put up a bit more of a fight and he didn't like your tone, but he stalked towards Wire, who was manning the helm, without another word. Maybe it wasn't the tone that really bothered him, but the silky way the word "Captain" rolled from your mouth and the way your eyes teasingly sparkled at him. He didn't notice before, that your right eye wasn't a normal prosthetic. It was a strange-looking log pose. Mentally, he was keeping a list of every odd thing about you, including the fact that when he looked at you from the side, your left side, there was a strange familiarity. Yesterday, he spent the time in his workshop investigating your hybrid weapon. It was the worst, most impractical thing he had ever seen. He knew he could make a better version, not for you of course, he just liked the challenge. 

Before you started your assigned duty, you called Minerva out to lay in the sun. She loved a good sunbathing session. Every time you started a new section, she would trot her stubby legs over and plop down near you. As people passed by, her snout followed them, sniffing and grunting at the air. Some of the girls from this morning asked if they could pet her, which she thoroughly enjoyed. When you needed a break, you set the mop down in her tusks. Mini didn't appreciate it, but her lack of will to shake it off made her tolerate it. To pass the time, you softly sang to yourself some of the shanties you knew. Some of the crew joined in when they passed by, which brought a small smile to your face. Maybe the Kid pirates aren't so terrible. From the stories you used to hear, you thought they would be rougher. Lost in thoughts, you didn't notice most of the crew filter under the deck for lunch. Several other pairs of eyes noticed that you were alone on deck, however. 

Minerva's ears flipped forward an instant before there was an arm around your neck, cutting off your air supply. "All by yourself are ya, girl? We think you could use some company." Rank breath said, so close to your neck you could throw up. His hand groped your chest and he snickered. "No bra?  Just for us? Our lucky day." Your heartbeat flew at the unfortunately familiar situation. Unpleasant memories threatened to flood in and you beat them back. That was the past and this was the present, and you weren't going to let phantoms get in your way of beating someone's ass. You never had. You saw the fur on Mini's back stand up. The click of gun being cocked was the only thing stopping her from annihilating the two lackeys that were with this waste of carbon. You took a breath to steady yourself as adrenaline rushed into your veins. They picked the wrong one. Sliding your foot back for a solid balance, you flipped him over your back and swiftly grabbed the mop you dropped. Snapping the head off over your knee you got in a defensive stance. 

"I would tell you that you don't want to do this, but I desperately need to blow off steam and I didn't like you the second you opened your mouth on that island." One of Synth's friends aimed his weapon at you.

"Aim at the pig. I'm going to teach this bitch a lesson myself." It was only fair you let him get off the ground. Once. 

A wicked smile sat on your features. "You're the only pig I see here." This was self-defense, a green flag to inflict permanent damage. It had been a while since you fought. The voice in your head reminded you to hold back. They didn't need to know your prowess and you would definitely be flagged as a former marine for some moves. It would be hard, though, since they already reminded you of the people you swore to kill when you were back at sea. Rage was the perfect antidote to poisoned memories. No phantoms, red was all you saw. 

You circled each other. Synth lunged at you with a blade that you hadn't noticed before. Wonderful. I brought a mop to a knife fight. You slid out of the way, letting him run past you and hitting him as hard as you could with the mop handle, without using haki, in the head. He wasn't knocked out but he was knocked down, knife clattering on the wood. You stepped on his hand as he reached for it and picked it up yourself. If stupid Kid hadn't taken your weapon, this would be over a lot faster. You needed to free Minerva up from being held under gunpoint. You would be damned if you called for help, especially from Kid. You had too much pride.

Testing the weight of the blade in your hand, you whipped it at Lackey #1. Several things happened simultaneously: Lackey #1 dropped his gun when the knife plunged into his stomach, Lackey #2 had his attention drawn away from Mini and onto you, you followed your throw and hit him upside the head with the mop, and Quincy had seen it all happen from the door. She had noticed you weren't at the table with them like this morning and went to grab you for lunch. Lackey #1 hit the floor screaming and looking for his gun, which was a ways away from you both. Blood rushed in your ears so loudly, you didn't hear it. A searing pain ripped through your thigh as a bullet went clean through to the deck. Lackey #2 was aiming for your chest when Mini rammed him and flung him straight up into the air. You stumbled as your leg spasmed under you. Looking for Synth, he wasn't where you left him. You cursed your inability to use observation haki as you felt yourself being hit from the side and being tackled to the deck. Synth was over you balling his fist. White covered your vision as you felt it connect with your face. When color flooded back, you saw your fake eye rolling across the deck. No, no, no. That was the key to finding the people you owed a visit. His hands were around your throat and your vision threatened to fade again as you struggled to take a breath. Like a viper, the palm of your hand struck out at his face, crushing his nose and causing his grip to falter. Despite the pain in your leg, you managed to flip him off you and get your legs around his throat in a triangle chokehold. Blood from his face coated your hand and you tasted iron in your mouth. As soon as you got your bearings, you saw Lackey #1 crawling to his gun. "Mini!" you rasped. She looked to where you pointed. Lackey #2 was also crawling to his gun, clearly having a worse time since his fall from the sky broke a few bones. She trotted to the gun, which happened to be slightly closer to her and kicked it close enough that you could lunge to grab it. Lackey #1 was taking aim at Mini, who had turned her attention to him, lowering her head to charge. Synth was fighting your hold, though weakly. Squeezing him harder, you tried to get him to stop moving. Your aim wasn't as good as it was when you had two eyes. Depth perception was a real bitch. The bullet cracked through the air as you took aim and shot. You saw him fall from the corner of your vision as you did the same thing to Lackey #2. The pistol cocked a third time. Your hand gripped his hair and yanked his head to the side to get a better angle, pressing the cold steel to his temple. It didn't fire when you pulled the trigger, not the next time either. You settled for pistol whipping him. Releasing him from your hold, you sat on his chest instead and let him know what a real punch felt like, knocking his teeth out. There were suddenly hands pulling you off him as you cocked your fist back to get him again. 

You hadn't noticed the commotion that was now on deck. Quincy had ran down to the mess in a panic to tell Kid what was happening. The crew were whispering amongst themselves as Kid walked over to where Heat and Wire had you restrained. He didn't acknowledge you at all. Your heart dropped into your stomach. He looked mad. So mad he was silent instead of his usual screaming self. Pain started to seep into your body as the adrenaline wore off and you caught your breath. Kid spoke directly to Wire, "Keep her in the med bay until I'm done." His voice was low with unbridled rage. You watched Kid stalk off to Synth and pick him up by the hair before he disappeared under the deck. Wait is he mad at him or me? Or both?  Wire and Heat half-dragged you to the infirmary while your eyes scanned the deck for your eye. If it was gone, your life would be a lot more difficult.

You fought their hold on you. "I can walk," your voice was still raspy. Wire half-heartedly slapped the bullet hole in your thigh. Gritting your teeth through the pain, "What the fuck?" 

"Not everything has to be a fight. Let us help you," Heat said, trying to make up for Wire's rougher approach. 

You spat out a fake laugh. "Oh yeah? By doing what? Keeping me captive so your captain can choke me to death himself?" They didn't say anything else until they set you down on the counter in the infirmary. Mini followed them in, eyeing them warily. Heat stayed by the door and you could see Wire guarding it from the outside. You scooted on the counter to grab gauze and antiseptic. You wished you could use your power to restore yourself but they would notice if a wound was suddenly gone. From the cabinet you took some pain pills and washed them down with water straight from the sink faucet. You looked yourself over, noticing that this was not a job for some pieces of gauze. You hopped on your good leg and with Minerva's assistance, made it to the bathroom.

"Leave the door open." 

"Heat, I didn't take you for a pervert like your captain."

He frowned and closed his eyes. "I'm not..." Heat genuinely seemed a bit insulted. "Just need to know you didn't pass out from blood loss," he muttered. 

"I'll tell you when to open them." You stripped off the bloody and torn clothes, easing yourself into the shower. The water was cold at first. It helped to dull the pain, or that was the pain medicine kicking in. Gingerly, you washed out the various cuts and wounds, wincing at the sting. When the water turned from rusty-brown to clear, you got out, dried off, and went to where you had Killer's old shirt. Slipping it on and buttoning it you cleared your throat, "Ok, you can open." You pushed yourself back up on the counter and continued to disinfect your major cuts. After you dressed the last one, you sat in silence with your hands between your knees. 

"Who are you?" Heat only had curiosity behind his eyes, no malice or suspicion.

"Does it matter? Kid is gonna kill me for shooting those guys." He probably wanted you alive so he could torture you to his heart's content. 

"Nah. Those guys were brand new." Heat continued after considering what to say, "Captain is probably mad at himself for not keeping a closer eye on them. If it wasn't you it could have been one of the other girls." Heat grinned, "And between you and me, you're much stronger than them."

You looked down at your feet. "I'm glad it was me then," you said softly. That was something you could understand. It always felt terrible when you were unable to protect someone in your crew. It felt like you were a failure as a captain. The girls all seemed nice enough and they were obviously tough if they were part of the Kid Pirates. Even you had gotten hurt, though, so it could have been worse for one of them. 

You hopped over to Killer, checking on him. "Damn, this dude can sleep." You prodded him. Placing your ear to his chest, there was still a little mucus rattling around. You were a little tired yourself after all that had transpired. Mini was already asleep in her corner. There was a chair near Killer's legs that you plopped in. You weren't about to ask Heat to give you a boost into your bunk, so you folded your arms where there was space on the stretcher and laid your head down.

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[pinkpastelcalesti]

LANDSCAPING LOVE || Bakugou Katsuki x Reader || Chapter II.

SUMMARY -> Tired of bouncing back and forth between the U.S. and Japan after graduating college, you’ve finally secured the career of your dreams: You’re Japan’s first heroics cartographer, a title bestowed upon you due to your quirk and specialty, that creates geographic maps for hero agencies across the country. While your work is highly respected and sought after, you’re known for a more niche reason among your coworkers at the Dynamight Agency: the food you make is fucking amazing. When Dynamight himself inevitably gets word that you’re coming for his cooking title on his own turf, chaos ensues and you find yourself competing against your boss for not only best chef, but also to win over his heart.

CONTENT/WARNINGS -> Pro hero AU, agency reader, reader with a quirk, fem/AFAB reader, reader is originally from America, reader is bilingual (English and Japanese), strangers (more like coworkers that don’t get a chance to speak much) to friends to lovers, fluff & chaos, minimal angst, suggestive humor.

LENGTH -> 6.4K

MASTERLIST

You wanted to crawl into a sewer hole and never come out of it. Just… live in isolation for the rest of your career. The mortification is too much.

After Dynamight’s parting words to you, you had immediately ran to your workshop and nearly tackled Naomi before shrieking at her about letting your drunken rant slip out to your coworkers. In her “defense,” she claimed that she hadn’t expected for the story to reach his ears.

It really didn’t help her case much. After explaining what the fuck had happened in his office, your coworkers quickly calmed you down and told you he probably would leave it alone. Surely he wasn’t going to take it seriously, right? He had to know no one was stupid enough to try and challenge him like that.

Right?

Wrong.

It took one week before you received the news from the PR manager that Dynamight Agency was hosting its annual beginning-of-the-year potluck to kick off good vibes and bring in positive camaraderie among fellow coworkers, your own boss himself even planning to attend.

That last bit of information was absolutely not helping you in the current moment either. You had discovered the poster and subsequent email sitting in your inbox yesterday, and while you were still somewhat excited to go, you were still on edge after the commentary Dynamight had left you with a week prior.

You absolutely would not allow for his snarky remark to hinder you from going to town on free food and drinks. You needed to knock it out of the park and make new connections at the agency as well.

Understanding this, you began brainstorming recipes at night after your work shifts ended, thinking of endless foods that were not only easy to cook and transport, but that were able to bend to everyone’s taste. You decided you’d make two dishes for the potluck, one being vegetarian-friendly for your coworkers that couldn’t eat meat for personal or religious reasons.

Your first recipe of choice was Sopa de Albóndigas, a meatball soup recipe that was for sure going to be a hit with those that liked warm soups during the winter months, as it was still freezing out. You’d learned the recipe from your suitemate in your dorm your freshman year of college, her incredible cooking skills being well-known among all the floors of your residence hall. She was more than happy to teach you the recipe among others from her home country of Mexico.

Your second recipe would be a vegetable pot pie, essentially the same as a chicken pot pie, just without the meat. You figured that it would be a great introductory southern food for everyone. It was your personal favorite to make as well, with the flaky crust you make never failing to bring you to damn near tears at its incredibleness.

You could go for spicy foods to one-up your boss and piss him off some more, but you figure that making it too spicy will turn off most people from actually eating it. You’d much rather have people savor it than fanning their mouths and screaming for milk.

It was nearing the end of January quickly, which meant you only had a little less than two weeks to prepare yourself, since the potluck happened the second week of February.

You steeled your resolve, noting that you were absolutely gonna wipe the floor with your recipes and make it known that Dynamight’s doubt in your cooking skills was unwarranted.

You also craved the reaction from him when he inevitably realized that your drunken words weren’t empty threats. You fully believed you could probably compete with him if you really wanted to.

So, with this newfound sense of motivation, you hurriedly worked to finish up Pro Hero Deku’s patrol map decor, Pinky’s request for a sketch-up of her and Uravity’s shared agency building, and an interactive, digitized, graduated symbols map for Dynamight that related back to the crime rates he was still working with.

If you were going to complete your side quest, you needed all your projects to be completed or close to it in order to lessen up stress.

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Three days before the potluck, you were asked by Leo if you were going to bring anything to the event.

You were walking back from a meeting with the technology department about questions you had on a certain coding error you kept running into on multiple different geographic software systems you used regularly. Leo had seen you before you saw him, and called out your name as you had just reached the elevator to go back up to your department’s floor.

“Yo, (L/N)! Got a second?” You threw a glance to him and agreed, stepping away from the buttons to let others waiting go in front of you. “What’s up?” You inquired, straightening your posture. “You excited for the potluck? Heard that it’s gonna be pretty exciting this year,” Leo spoke in an excited tone. “Apparently they’re allowing wine and champagne as long as we promised not to go too crazy. No hard liquor though.”

You hummed in acknowledgement. You definitely were more hyped now that Leo had told you the drink menu was expanding beyond soda and juice. “I am very much excited,” you said with a lopsided grin. “I can’t wait to see what it’s like for the whole agency to get together for once. I’ve heard some of the interactions between departments can get pretty interesting during the white elephant game.”

You weren’t lying; Carl had told you a couple days ago that white elephant got pretty heated since everyone participating pulled out all the stops to bring either the best gifts known to man or gifts that were sure to send you reeling in embarrassment.

Even though it was considered a Christmas holiday tradition, the agency played the game regardless to make the night more entertaining, following up with other games like cards against humanity or uno extreme. You found it silly, hearing about games that you’d often frequently played during high school and college still being utilized in the adult world at a social event. You weren’t complaining, however. You could go pretty rabid during uno, especially the extreme version. It was truly a timeless classic.

“Oh yeah, that game is definitely not one you wanna miss. Are you going to bring anything food or drink-wise to the event?” Ah, there it is, you thought smugly. You knew what Leo was trying to do; it’s not hard to pick up on him now that you’ve interacted enough times. You could read this man’s intentions like no tomorrow. He was trying to sniff you out and see if you might try anything to compete with your boss.

You decided to bite the bait, just slightly.

“Oh yeah, definitely! I’m bringing two dishes and a dessert,” you placed your hands on your hips. “Figured that I should go all out since it’s my first potluck here.” Leo’s eyes lit up in what you could only imagine was pure mischievous joy. “I heard Dynamight’s bringing food as well. You think you’ll be able to compete?”

You pretended to think on it for a second before flashing him a determined smile. “You bet your ass I do.”

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The day of the potluck had the whole agency abuzz. People were way more bubbly and willing to work together to get tasks done, looking forward to 6 p.m., when the party would begin. You were all assigned a half day, ending your own shift at 2 p.m., which left plenty of time to cook and take a shower to dress yourself up. You’d been proactive and shopped the previous afternoon, hoisting a bag full of vegetables and ingredients through your front door and nearly passing out at the weight of your groceries in your arms.

Wrapping up in the workshop and bidding your coworkers a temporary farewell with a promise to see them in a few hours, you stepped into the hallway and began walking to the elevator for all of three seconds before you heard your name being called in an all-too-recognizable voice.

Dynamight was coming in hot on your left and you felt that icy feeling crawl up your spine once more. I swear to god if Leo said something to him this soon, I’m jabbing a caliper up his ass. You met him halfway and took in his current outfit. He wasn’t dressed in his hero uniform, but rather a black compression shirt and a pair of charcoal grey sweatpants. He was wearing black combat boots, similar to his uniform’s, but missing the orange and green accent colors. Absolutely fucking foul of him to look that good, you thought, gripping the handle of your bag a little harder than usual before casting your eyes to meet his.

“You better be bringin’ a damn dish to the event tonight or I’m kicking yer fuckin’ ass,” he spat out, crimson eyes narrowing down at you. You let out a small sputter of surprise, shocked by the sudden confrontation before he continued. “Wanna see if your cooking skills are shit or not fer myself.”

Crossing your arms, you sent an equally simmering glare back, paired with a shit eating grin. “Same to you, Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight. I wanna see if you’re living up to the rumors or if people are just too scared to tell you your kitchen skills suck.” You bit back, shifting your gaze to his biceps once again before realizing and glancing back up, seemingly not being able to keep your grubby little eyes away from something so biteable. You just wanted to nip him once. It’s like a dog’s urge to go after a squirrel.

Your boss let out a scoff at your retort, getting closer to your face with a look that sent shivers through you. “Watch it. Told y’before, didn’t I? You’re gonna eat your fuckin’ words ten times over.” He was borderline sneering at you by this point. You really must have struck a nerve with him after word got out that fateful Monday, nearly a month ago now.

Letting out a sigh that sounded as if Dynamight was mildly inconveniencing you rather than being up in your face borderline threatening you, you dramatically turned your head away from him. “I sincerely hope your recipes can make up for the amount of empty threats that come out of your mouth. Didn’t take you as the type to hold a grudge against someone for simply being better than you.” You were absolutely feeding into it now, shocking yourself slightly with the words that were coming out of your mouth. Never in your life would you regularly try pissing off a hero with a deadly quirk, but something about Bakugou Katsuki made you want to push all his buttons and then some.

“S’not a damn grudge. I’m gonna prove to you that you’re talking out of your ass, sweetheart.” That pet name was absolutely not necessary, sending your heart into a spiral. Your eyes widened and you sputtered out a quick, “Wh— whatever, dude. I’ll be there and that’s final. Now move, I’ve got recipes to make.” You sidestepped your boss and muttered under your breath what a prick as you made your way back to the elevator, feeling a pair of ruby eyes burning a hole into your back before you heard a rough, “heard that, you brat.” You let out an exasperated noise just as the doors opened to the lift. “Screw off!” You hollered into the hall, not bothering to stick your head out and make sure Dynamight heard you. You knew he did, because he barked in laughter at your flustered actions.

You were absolutely not going to lose tonight. You were going to make sure of it.

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Arriving back home to your apartment, you quickly shed off your work bag and clothes, switching into a comfortable pair of sweatpants with your university’s logo running down the leg, partnered by some soft socks and a graphic t shirt that had been cut at the collar. You were about to be in your kitchen on your feet for the next two hours, which meant that you had to be comfortable as possible. You’d already hit the button on your speaker that sat on your kitchen island and pulled up your favorite playlist, gathering the pans out of the shelves by your feet and placing them in their designated spots.

You were ready for this. You pulled out the ingredients for the first recipe that would take the longest, which was the veggie pot pie. It would take around an hour and 10 minutes total, according to the recipe you frequented for making the dish.

The Sopa de Albóndigas would only take 35 minutes total, which meant you were looking decent on time. It was nearly 3 p.m., later than you wanted to be home due to your bitchboy boss deciding to seek you out right before you clocked out. Wait a minute, why did he seek me out? He definitely knew I was gonna come, especially since it’s my first year at the agency, you pondered this for a moment before snapping out of it and reminding yourself that now was not the time to play overthinker.

Your dessert that you were making had been a last minute decision. You had decided to bring two large New York cheesecakes along with you, on top of the main dishes you were currently making. You’d figured that a classic American dessert was a wise choice, but it meant taking a heinous amount of time to prepare it. You’d completed the both of them the previous night, pouring every wish to the Gods that it went well, as cheesecake was not an easy recipe, even for you.

They were both chilling in the fridge at the very moment, waiting to be taken to the party. You were incredibly grateful that you’d finished them before anything else because they took a whopping 8 hours minimum to make, a majority of the time being dedicated to the cakes having to rest in the fridge for a minimum of 6 hours.

You had pulled out all your dry and wet ingredients for the crust of your pie and went to work mixing and kneading the dough until it was prepped and placed to the side. Next up was to saute your veggies in butter, allow them to soften, then came the flour, veggie stock and heavy cream.

After the filling had been mixed together and formed a thick, gravy-like consistency, you placed it on top of your crust that had been laid out in a comically large baking tray. Placing the second part of the crust on top, you threw it in the oven for around 35 minutes or until the crust became a flaky golden brown.

During this time, you prepped your ingredients for the Sopa de Albóndigas. You truly felt like Gordon Ramsey himself was blessing you as you dashed around your kitchen, making sure that your all-purpose wagon that you mainly used for groceries was prepared to carry your food to the agency.

All you had to do now was allow the soup to simmer, pull the pot pie out of the oven, and have enough time to wash your hair, style it, throw on makeup, and put on an outfit that was cute but wouldn’t be missed if you got it stained from food and drinks.

You fucking loved your life right now.

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You’d managed to shove everything into the wagon, including your prized cheesecakes, and pulled it all the way to the agency with no issues. You’d even realized you had finished everything with an extra 15 minutes to spare, which went to perfecting your eyeliner and screaming in the mirror when you fucked it up too hard and had to redo your whole eye.

You were dressed in a black and white gingham dress that was actually a romper. It was by far your favorite dress that you were willing to get a little dirty since the company you bought it from had incredible affordability with their clothing. You didn’t want to ruin it, but if it came to it, you could always purchase a new one.

You’d paired it with fleece-lined black leggings, a white blouse to go underneath the dress since it was sleeveless and far too cold for bare shoulders, and your favorite black boots.

A coworker in the technology department that you’d met with earlier in the day opened the door for you as she saw you approach the doors, letting out a whistle of shock. “My Gods, (Y/N)! I thought they were kidding when I heard you were bringing food!” You gave her a sheepish smile. She was an older woman that didn’t regularly participate in the office gossip, which meant she most likely had no idea about the words you spoke in terms of your cooking showdown with Dynamight.

Your coworker had pointed you in the direction of the serving table, where people were still placing their handmade and pre-packaged foods and drinks. The potluck was taking place on the first floor of the lobby since it had the most open area. They’d gone all out for decorations, pretty sage green and burnt orange decor filled throughout the building. There were rows of large tables set up on the far side of the room, making you smile in nostalgia.

It reminded you so much of the family get-togethers you had during the holidays growing up, with the white folding tables set up in your grandparents’ living room, with matching plastic folding chairs.

You approached a spot where you could set out your dishes and quickly scribbled their respective names and a short summary of ingredients on a namecard, accompanied by your name as the one who made it. You had reached into your wagon to pull out your desserts when you heard the coworkers back towards the entrance murmur in excitement.

“Hello Dynamight, sir! Welcome to the potluck!” You heard one guy speak out loud. You sat the cheesecakes in the dessert section with their namecards and pushed your wagon to a little area where people could put their bags. You breathed steadily, in and out, you repeated in your head. It was finally here: round one (and hopefully the last?) of your showdown with your boss.

You beelined it to find your team members before Dynamight could see you. It was still early on in the party, having only started 10 minutes ago, so you figured it would be nice to chat with them before the inevitable came and bitchboy Bakugou came to grab you. Spotting Kanako’s purple highlights among the crowd towards the left side of the building, you made your way over and a smile overtook your face as you heard Carl and Naomi shout your name in excitement.

Naomi flung herself at you before complimenting your outfit. “You look stunning! You’re making me feel bad for showing up in basically what I wear everyday.” You pinched her cheek playfully. “You look absolutely gorgeous no matter what you wear, Naomi. You all do, really. I’m jealous most times.” Carl had shown up in a nice pair of corduroy pants paired with a dark green button up, and Kanako was dressed in a beautiful deep purple dress that ended at her knees, matching her hair and hugging her figure nicely. Naomi was dressed in black slacks and a pastel pink blouse.

Your team dressed up nice, if you did say so yourself. You all conversed with one another, grabbing glasses of champagne and discussing an upcoming project that the city had requested of your department, citing that they were in desperate need of a new terrestrial map that depicted a rough draft of the new quirk incident-management building that was going to be built towards the end of the year. You were all anxious to take on the job due to the fact that the head of Musutafu’s Urban Planning division was not only an absolute nightmare to work with, but pretty misogynistic as well. He must have been kicking himself for having to bend his back and ask for your help, as literally 75 percent of your department was women. Carl was a girls girl by nomination, so you considered it 100 percent, but no one would get it like you and your team did.

As you had begun switching the topic and were discussing the apparent lovers quarrel between two of your coworkers in the call center department, you heard the tap of a mic. Looking at the front of the floor, you could see Atsuno awkwardly standing with the mic in his hand, like he’d been forced to give the introduction at the last second.

Behind him, Dynamight stood tall, his arms crossed over a very expensive and soft-looking orange sweater, with a pair of black slacks and dress shoes accompanying his outfit. Good gracious he’s dressed like a slut and I’m enjoying every moment of it like a freak. You just knew he probably smelled good too. Your stomach flipped in joy when you saw that Red Riot, Pinky, and the rest of Dynamight’s friend group had all shown up as well.

This bitch brought his friends, how sweet! You cooed internally, imagining that your boss was probably so unbelievably soft for his friends behind closed doors. You’d heard just how close each of them were from Eijiro during days that he was free to grab a coffee with you while you were in the city for an assignment.

Atsuno cleared his throat, beginning his little speech. “Welcome to the annual potluck that our agency has for the beginning of each year. We hope that you enjoy yourselves tonight and behave, with no incidents like the previous year, please,” your eyebrow shot up towards your team at the mention of such a thing. Kanako whispered in your ear that last year, a man from analytics had tackled a coworker from finance after he had assumed he was making moves on his girlfriend, only to find out that the finance guy was, indeed, gay, and also worked out a fuck ton. Analytics dude ended up getting suspended for a whopping 3 months after he got his shit rocked.

You nearly burst out laughing. Of course it had to happen in the agency that was run by a resident hothead. Apparently the attitude must rub off on his subordinates as well.

“—make sure that you meet new people, eat and drink to your heart’s content, and do your best at the games set up all around the floor. Here’s to a great rest of the year.” Atsuno raised a glass of champagne as you and everyone around you repeated the last sentence in unison, raising your own glasses. As everyone began to make their way to different areas around the room, you spotted an orange blob making its way to you out of the corner of your eye and steeled yourself. Now or never, you thought with a grimace.

You turned your body fully towards Dynamight as he stopped a few feet away from you, his signature frown on his face. Joined by him were Pinky, or Mina, as she had told you to call her after you were introduced to each other a year prior, and Eijiro, the one who had orchestrated the meeting. You turned your attention to the redhead as he smiled at you brightly with all his sharp teeth, calling out your name fondly. You slung your free arm around him in a hug. “I’m glad to see you here! Figured you wouldn’t wanna miss it, especially after what you said about Bakubro last month.”

Your mouth hung open as you fumbled for your words. “How in the world did you hear about that? I swear to god it’s reached everybody, I was drunk and in the privacy of my own home for crying out loud,” you pouted up at Eijiro. Mina let out a laugh as she hugged you next, her perfume reminding you of a candy shop along the coast.

“Bakugou was so flabbergasted someone had dared to challenge him that he told us after a briefing! Couldn’t stop pissing himself about it.” Her lips formed a mischievous grin as Bakugou brought his hand down on her head, shaking her back and forth. “Shut the fuck up. I didn’t do none of that shit,” he growled, the tips of his ears showing just the slightest bit of pink if you squinted hard enough.

You were smiling behind your glass before your boss turned his attention to you. “Don’t fuckin’ laugh at me, either. We still ain’t settled a damn thing.” You wanted to roll your eyes so hard that they’d spin like pinballs in a machine, but refrained from it and instead took a sip of champagne, your lip gloss lining the rim of the crystal drinkware. “We can settle it right now, if you’d like. My dishes are already on the table, Dynamight.” You made sure to repeat his hero name back to him in a sickly sweet voice, hoping to piss him off just a bit more.

Not even bothering to reply with words, Dynamight took you by the arm with an uncharacteristically gentle hold and marched you both off towards the self-serve tables. You heard the laughter of your boss’ friend group fade with the more steps you took away from them.

You grabbed two plates and handed one of them over to your boss, who grunted out a thanks before you served yourself your pot pie. “We‘ll have to pick up a bowl in a minute since my second dish is a soup.” You eyed the way Dynamight was scanning over the table with a scowl on his face before his gaze landed on your crock pot sitting among the others lined in a row.

“Didn’t strike you as a soup person,” he said as he handed you a fork from the tacky serving basket with plastic silverware. “thought you’d be the type to screw those recipes up.” You gawked at him and his audacity for the upteenth time since the start of the year.

You nudged him along as you both stood off to the side next to a small standing table that wasn’t too close to the large crowd of bustling people. It helped you hear each other better. “You really doubt my cooking abilities that much?” You asked, lowkey hurt by the assumption but masking it with a tone of indifference.

“Nah, just tend to assume since every fuckin’ person I’ve met in this agency says they can’t cook for shit.” You let out a laugh as you stabbed your fork into the crust of your food. “Understandable. Most people I know can do basic cooking, which isn’t a bad thing at all, but they’re too scared to try more complex recipes because they’re afraid of screwing up,” you stated between mouthfuls of food. “I keep telling them all that failing a recipe, no matter how simple, is quite literally the only way you’ll learn in the kitchen.”

He let out a deep hum in response. For talking high and mighty just a few minutes ago, Dynamight seemed almost calm as his towering figure stood beside you. If you glanced around hard enough, you could catch the stares of some of your coworkers, filled with surprise and wonder. You assumed it was because of how uncommon it was to see an agency worker other than Atsuno or PR manager Ria interacting with him this much.

You understood the heavy intimidation that came with Dynamight and interacting with him, but you never felt frightened of him. He might be a top hero, but he was still a person. His fiery personality and inability to keep his mouth shut was still going strong, but his attitude had changed a lot since his high school days, according to Eijiro.

You took a look at him from your peripheral, noticing that he was staring down at you as well, sharp eyes seemingly taking in your figure. You quickly looked anywhere but towards him, eyes landing on your team a short ways away, engaged in what looked to be a game of uno at a table, a couple marketing department members surrounding them. You already knew they were probably all getting their asses handed to them by Kanako, who was a master at card games of any sort.

You’d found out the hard way one night when you had all experimented with a variety box of different card games at Kanako and Carl’s flat. She wiped the floor with each one of you, only losing twice the whole night (which also felt like it was on purpose for the sake of sparing your team’s feelings).

A small smile etched its way onto your face as you recalled the memory. “Your shit ain’t that bad. Needs more garlic powder.” You turned back to Dynamight once more, blinking a couple times to process what he’d just said before your smile was replaced with a frown.

“I’m fine competing with you but recommendations weren’t in the agreement.” You huffed. “Agreement don’t exist. I tell it like it is. Be thankful I even said something anyways.” He spoke, his tone full of irritation.

How rude, you thought helplessly. “Okay then, let’s see your shit next,” you grumbled, lowkey hip-checking him as you threw your plate and fork away. He let out a tch sound at your actions, but didn’t hurl an insult your way.

He handed you a new plate before steering you over to the pan he’d brought with him. Upon further inspection, it was his infamous mapo tofu. Unlike Carl and his unfortunate “fuck you” spice genes, you’d been able to build up a spice tolerance with the sheer amount of spicy food you ate and made over the years. You could only hope the hard work paid off if its as spicy as Carl was making it out to be. “Here.” Dynamight spooned some of it onto your plate as you let out a thanks to him.

Walking back to your previous spot together, you made sure to have a canned drink on the ready in the off chance that you couldn’t bear the spice. You picked one of the tofu pieces up with your chopsticks and placed it in your mouth.

Seconds passed.

Dynamight was staring down at you, analyzing you for any sort of reaction he could make fun of you for.

You swallowed, dabbed your mouth with your napkin, and stared back up at him. “You call this spicy?”

You so wished you’d had a camera on you the moment you registered the look on his face at your words. His eyebrow twitched first before he let out a loud, “What the fuck do you mean “you call this spicy?” Did you even fuckin’ eat the whole goddamn piece?” You wanted to laugh so bad but knew it would result in possibly getting the lights knocked out of you, so you refrained.

“Course I did, dickhead. Wanna watch me do it again?” You smirked at him as you proceeded to shove three pieces of tofu in your mouth at once. “It’s pretty good. I think you’d benefit from throwing in Carolina reaper flakes.” You knew you were pressing into his growing agitation but couldn’t help it.

His eyes did a quick glance at your lips as your tongue darted out to sweep some of the sauce back into your mouth before he looked away, a very deep scowl etched in on his face. “You’re fuckin’ crazy. Next time, I’m forcing you to eat a whole damn pepper and see how you handle it.”

You shot an eyebrow up at him with a suggestive smirk. “Next time? So you admit defeat, Dynamight?” Your whole body shuddered involuntarily at the glare he sent your way. “In your dreams, brat. You’re pissin’ me off with your kitchen ego.”

“MY kitchen ego? You’re the one that threw a tantrum when you heard the rumors that one of your subordinates was challenging you,” you argued back. “You’ve got a pisspoor attitude when it comes to someone stealing your thunder.”

You grabbed onto his sleeve after you finished your plate and tugged him along, ignoring his shout of “hey!” At your sudden tugging. Thrusting a bowl of your Sopa de Albóndigas into his hands, you fixed your own bowl of it and once again returned to your spot in the corner.

“Eat,” you said before you spooned the broth into your mouth, your eyes sparkling. You’d absolutely nailed it, making a mental note to send your old suitemate a message on instagram and thank her again for sharing her family recipe. “You’ll enjoy this one better since it’s a pleasant spice. Not everything has to burn going in and out.”

He grunted in response, silently eating out of his own bowl as you both returned to people watching once more. “Not bad. What’s the dish called?” The rumble of his voice, when not shouting or agitated, never failed to make your legs a little weak in the knees. God, please do ASMR when you retire, you pleaded mentally.

“Sopa de Albóndigas, it’s a recipe that’s seen in a lot of different cultures, but this one is Mexico’s version. Learned it from a friend in college.” Your face held another small smile at the memory. “Sappy motherfucker.” You let out a startled noise, glaring up into Dynamight’s eyes. “You’re a total asshole, I hope you know that.”

His wicked grin only grew. “You act like you don’t like it.” Your face felt like it was on fire as you whipped your head into the opposite direction, refusing to speak to him. This man is a fucking tease and he doesn’t even realize it. Your hands began to sweat a little, and not from the heat of the soup in your grasp.

“Let’s call it even this time,” you began after a couple minutes of slightly uncomfortable silence on both of your ends. “I think we both did a pretty good job. Next time we need to try making the same dish and see who did it better.”

Dynamight shook his head in agreement. “You don’t seem to be over this competition either.” You shrugged your shoulders in response. “It’s kinda fun. I like pissing you off.” You said with a smile.

“Bold words coming from someone who works for me.” He responded brashly. “Fire me and I’ll make sure you can’t use any of my maps ever again.” You said simply. Your boss rolled his eyes and moved to respond before getting interrupted by Naomi bouncing her way towards you.

“You’ve had your competition with Dynamight, come join us! Kanako wants to talk to you about your opinion on the new hero calendars that just came out,” she said excitedly as you let out an exasperated sigh. “I’m coming, one sec. Can you grab me a glass of champagne while you’re up and running?” You asked her as you put your finished bowl and spoon in the trash, Dynamight close behind you. “Yeah, no prob.” Naomi responded before walking towards the drink bar as you turned back to your boss.

“You heard the woman, duty calls,” you spoke with a lazy smile. “Thanks for making my first event with your agency so memorable. It was a lot of fun.” He gave you an unreadable expression before his neutral frown returned. “Don’t hafta thank me. Thank the others who were in charge of the whole thing.”

You let out a small laugh. “It’s your agency, though. So it’s still within your responsibility.” You waved to him as you walked off, but didn’t get far before turning back around, forgetting to mention something earlier.

“Oh yeah! I made New York style cheesecake. Help yourself if you want any!” You spoke before turning around again and trotting over to your team that cheered when you came into view. You could feel a pair of eyes burning into your back, but when you tried to sneak a glance behind you, Dynamight was already walking back to his friend group that called him over.

He’s such a fucking character, you thought fondly, before joining in on the conversation about pro hero Shouto’s photos in his calendar version, a picture that had you fanning your face dramatically because his abs were on full display for the month of April.

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

That following work day, you had been in your office a whopping 35 minutes before Carl came running through the door, a wild look on his face. “What’s wrong with you? You look pale as hell,” you said with a frown, hopping up from your desk and walking up to him.

“Some fucking rookies in the PR department made a google form about voting for who’s dish was best between you and Dynamight from last night,” Carl spoke through gasps of air. Your body felt like it had frozen over again as you rubbed at your temples. “I— I ran here because Dynamight will probably get wind of it in a little while. He’s not in the office right now, but Atsuno is. And I guarantee you that he’s heard about it already. That man ends up telling Dynamight everything.”

You sighed before nodding your head. “Not surprised that happened, but I’m worried about his reaction to it. Maybe he won’t care too much about it? It really was just us talking to each other about it yesterday, we didn’t involve anyone else.” You pondered out loud as Carl sat in one of your visitor chairs.

“Yeah, you might get lucky. The guy’s probably got too much going on to be concerned about a stupid google form.” Carl mused.

After allowing him to catch his breath, you both walked into the workshop to begin on the city’s project, too busy focused on trying to add polygon layers into your software to remember the conversation about the PR department rookies that you’d had earlier.

It was right after lunch when your office phone rang. You jogged out of the workshop and reached the phone just in time before it got sent to voicemail. Picking it up, you didn’t even have enough time to get out a greeting before Dynamight’s voice came through the receiver.

“Wanna explain to me why there’s a google form about us floating around in my goddamn agency?”

You froze.

You were so fucked.

[soulfoodshonali]

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[koolaidoverliving]

random candymaker rant

these two live in my head rent free... they are straight (gay) chaos. both of them are highkey insane so their relationship matches that.

they've known each other for ten years, or more. candy pop and the toymaker have a mutual understanding of each others' powers. they acknowledge each other as "equals" and though they had a rivalry in the beginning parts of their relationship, that fell apart. candy pop was more than overwhelming with his traps and tricks. it became a one-sided thing that jason has to suffer from. 

their first encounter involved jason fixing candy pop's hammer. only pierrot had been able to fix it in the past, so candy pop was impressed. unfortunately, jason's arrogant personality pissed off candy pop. he tried to kill him the moment he got his hammer back.

despite this, they have some friendly ties to each other. they're frenemies!!! candy pop always celebrates jason's birthday. even when jason doesn't ask for a celebration, candy pop still brings 1-2 people and a cake. also, candy pop doesn't have a birthday of his own. so when jason asked for candy pop's birthday, he didn't have an answer. for that reason, jason made up a date for him. candy pop forgot about it a few minutes later, but jason remembered it. sooo thanks to the toymaker, candy pop's birthday is july 12th. 

candy pop refers to jason as his personal chef. jason buys him food, makes him food, teaches him how to make food. it was super cute at first but now jason wants to fucking kill himself. why can't this jester just learn how to FUCKING COOK. it doesn't help that jason's the only one with an actual job so he has to pay for basically everything. 

jason overworks himself all the time so candy pop runs errands for him. just so he doesn't fall over and die from something that isn't his hammer. "nothing is allowed to kill you except for me!" candy pop also tries to make jason some food but it goes so terribly wrong. he just gives jason some candy instead. jason does NOT thank him. this shit is the bare minimum. candy pop is constantly trying to get the toymaker to do things other than work in his workshop all day.

candy pop sets up traps to "catch" the toymaker. they rarely work. the one time it did work, the toymaker was so disappointed in himself he had to drink ten bottles of wine just to forget about it. the toymaker barricades his door so candy pop doesn't enter his workshop, but candy pop finds a way in no matter what. whether it's climbing in through the window or digging in from the floor, he will find a way in.

jason finds candy pop's crying to be really fucking annoying (or funny, it depends). candy pop cries a LOT. he has such terrible mood swings. he's like a girl on her period. but jason is one of the two people candy pop goes to when he's upset (the other being nathan), so jason has to deal with it. candy pop just bugs him till he breaks down. and now they're BOTH on the verge of tears! HOORAY!!! 

when candy pop has a genuinely good reason to be sad, jason will give him ice cream and tell him to sit in a corner while he works. if that doesn't work, he shows him some cool magic tricks. speaking of magic tricks, candy pop is always amazed by them. no matter how basic they are. candy pop's magic tricks are NOT as good as jason the toymaker's. 

the way the care for each other is really confusing. candy pop acknowledges that jason's a manipulative piece of shit dickhead and jason acknowledges that candy pop's a disrespectful loudmouth freak... but at the same time, they work together pretty efficiently... which is saying a lot because they both hate working with people.

smaller headcanons that i will not elaborate on unless asked

candy pop and the toymaker gang up on the puppeteer, taking turns calling him poor and homeless. usually happens when they're drunk.

jason only uses handmirrors due to candy pop's fear of mirrors.

jason loves his reflection though he'll always stop in front of store-windows just to see himself. 

candy pop is one of the only ones to see jason's true form. this is simply because he's pissed jason off so much.

jason the toymaker probably thought candy pop was a girl when they first met. he was another victim to the feminine jester.

rivals... with benefits. it's not gay if he looks like a woman

jason throws out all the "birthday shirts" candy pop gives to him. he does NOT want 10 shirts with candy pop's face on it.

jason is a famous and popular toymaker. candy pop is an unemployed homeless man who tries to ruin his career by posting ads calling him a misogynist and an abuser.

candy pop spreads the worst rumors about jason. it's actually crazy. 

there are too many people out there who think candy pop is jason's son. and another group of people who think candy pop and jason HAVE a son. 

THE TOYMAKER IS A WOOD EATER. HE EATS WOOD. CHEWS ON WOOD. EATS SAWDUST. 

jason had to make an entire new email and hide it from candy pop because he kept enlisting jason into the US army.

list of candy pop's names for the toymaker

jason

jas

jacey

toyboy

the toymaker

toymaker

the

redhead

favourite redhead

leprechaun

jason t. toymaker

misogynist

whiny bitch

annoying narcissistic asshole

list of the toymaker's names for candy pop

candy

GET OUT OF MY WORKSHOP

LEAVE

PLEASE 

HOW DID YOU GET PAST THE BARRICADES

ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS

I AM GOING TO KILL YOU

[bettsfic]

I have a fear of including things I like in my stories. For example: Female rage, romance, etc… because I feel that makes me inflexible and a less talented writer. I’ve always felt like “real” writers can write in any genre and don’t have the same elements in every one of their novels. The idea of writing what you love is a beautiful thing but for me I worry that in writing what I love, I may not get to the level that I want to be at as a writer. I guess I equate enjoying writing and being free with it to = not being worthy. And being complex in ways that I may not necessarily love and is challenging = good work from me.

is it possible that some of your apprehension toward writing what you love has to do with fear of vulnerability? writing what you love exposes you. it feels like walking around naked. it allows people to perceive you, and conversely, it allows people to misperceive you. both of those things are terrifying. it's much more comfortable to catch a wide, distant net of an aesthetic. that way, it doesn't matter what a reader thinks of it; you don't care that much about it anyway, right?

it's interesting that you say "real" writers can write in any genre. i'm looking at my bookshelf right now and there's not a single author on it that goes beyond their established genre, or even writes particularly varying stories with an ensemble of complex characters. go to the bibliography of any prolific author and see how wide their variation is. sometimes you'll see writers write in short form and long form. occasionally a writer will write children's literature and adult literature. there are writers who live in the venn diagram overlap of genres but don't tend to stray in either direction. sometimes screenwriters become novelists and vice versa. but otherwise, it's impractical to write so widely, so consistently. your agent and editors will all have their niche and it will be difficult for them to represent you and support your work if you have three sci fi bestsellers and all of a sudden you want to write some subsubsubgenre of true crime.

every artist has two things: their medium and their subject. instead of thinking of "things you love" think of them as your subjects, in the way a painter's subject can be nature, or a poet's subject can be grief. unless you're only writing for money, you have no choice but to write your subjects. even if you try not to, they'll bleed into your work. here's an example: one time in workshop my good buddy Chris said to me, "you write a lot about class." to which i thought, i love you Chris but this is porn. but he was right. all my characters have a conflict with money. often they're blue collar workers or don't have a job at all. most of my characters don't even go to college. after he said that, i started to lean into it and become more aware of it. the more aware of it i became, the more strongly i felt about it. you can go through my AO3 and scroll through my fics and see how important money is in them. and if it's not money, it's the military. and if it's not the military, it's some other loss of bodily autonomy at the hands of a greater institution.

think outside of writing. chefs have types of food they prefer to cook. scholars have their fields. athletes have their sport. musicians have their instrument. the more you zero in on something, the better you become at it. as a writer, the more you write your subject, the better you'll become at depicting it.

your subjects may grow and change over time. they may not. you may have some subjects you wear out, and you may have others that you sew into everything you write. you may have repetitions of images, characters, resolutions, and conflicts. it's good to experiment and move beyond your comfort zone sometimes, but you have to find comfort in your comfort zone first. and you do that by embracing your subjects.

[enqmind]

Fic!

This is what happens when you've recently read baby trapping fics and then have a conversation about what foods you can't eat around taking certain medications.

Soap/Female Reader WC: 1.4k 18+ content.

Warnings: Baby trapping, manipulation, tampering with contraceptives, tampering with food, technically poisoning, misuse of a dietary supplement. Noncon, despite containing no actual sex (because baby trapping).

Reader notes: Implied to dislike marmite, probably isn't Scottish, dislikes masks (not a covid denier. they just make her uncomfortable).

Gothmet

 Johnny has been cooking a lot lately.

 “Trying to take after your compatriot?”

 He’d laughed at that.

 “I think you’ll find I don’t hit my Boiling Point quite so fast, love.”

 You suspected he’d last five minutes in food service, since you’re not actually allowed to explode the sous chef.

 But as a home cook? Oh, he was passable.

 His latest creation was squid ink ravioli filled with an avant garde bacon and nigella seed concoction.

 It was interesting, but good was a different question.

 “Do you like it?” He asked, puppy dog enthusiasm radiating off of him in waves.

 “… I don’t know,” you confessed. “It’s certainly interesting, but I’m not sure one way or the other.”

 You half expected his face to fall, but instead he looked thoughtful as he took a considered bite.

 “Aye, I see what you mean. This’ll take some workshopping. You willing to be my taste tester?” 

 You grinned at him over your wine.

 “It would be my pleasure.”

 “And that is my top priority, after all.”

 He didn’t seem discouraged by the half hearted kick under the table, especially if his enthusiasm for ‘dessert’ was considered.

 His new culinary interest expanded to baking.

 The next day he presented you with a zebra cake with the highest contrast you’d ever seen. The chocolate stripes were almost jet black.

 “I got some o’  that ultra Dutch processed cocoa to try making my own oreos. Ordered one of them special biscuit cutters too, but it hasn’t arrived yet. So I decided to make a very accurate zebra cake.”

 “You ordered one for bourbons too, right?”

 “What do you take me for, hen? Some kind of godless heathen?”

 You raised your hands placatingly.

 “Just making sure, Johnno. Gotta check to see if you’ve been replaced by a sexy doppelganger every now and then.”

 He squinted at you.

 “Yeah, well. You’ll get your bourbons. With bourbon cream, mind.”

 “Always trying to ply me with something, aren’t you?”

 He looked scandalised when you laughed.

 Within the week he had those biscuits ready for you. True to his word the bourbons had bourbon cream and the orefauxs (as he called them) had Baileys cream. Both were as black as the devil’s bottom.

 “I might need a new wardrobe soon if you keep this up,” you joked between mouthfuls.

 “Ah, I’ll just help you work it off. Or just buy you a new one.”

 The look you gave him might not have been as withering as you’d hoped, but he seemed to get the message.

 “I’ll try to bake you something healthier next time.”

 Something healthier meant a coal black loaf of bread.

 “It’s a black bread,” he said cheerily, “it’s got rye in it. Thought might as well go the whole hog and added some activated charcoal to make it as black as you like your coffee.”

 It was with a heavy sigh that you turned your eyes to him.

 “I can’t eat this.”

 His face did fall this time.

 “Oh. You allergic to rye? Or are you afraid I’ve slipped some marmite in?”

 “My marmite take is neither here nor there. The problem is that I’m on the pill and activated charcoal can make it not work.”

 “Oh, shit.”

 He looked so crestfallen that you felt even worse.

 “Sorry.”

 “No, no. It’s my fault. Shoulda considered that.”

 You tore off a chunk and slathered it with butter, just to see him light up a little.

 “Well, I guess half a loaf over a couple days can’t hurt too much.”

 His grin was blinding.

 “Ah, but what am I gonna do with all this spare activated charcoal? I cannae eat it all meself.”

 You gave him a grin of your own.

 “Could live up to your callsign and use it to make soap. Good for the skin and all that.”

 “Ah,” he said sagely. “So that’s why they kept showing me that melt and pour stuff. I was starting to think I’d have to assassinate Bezos for knowing too much. How’d he even find out?”

 You chuckle as you eat your chunk of bread.

 “It’s really good,” you mumbled, delight rendering you mannerless.

 Johnny puffed up with pride.

 “I’ll try a different colourant next time. Still got that squid ink, after all.”

 “How is recipe development, by the way?”

 “Can’t complain. I’ll have another plate for you in a couple o’ days.”

 “I look forward to it!”

 In the meantime you were working your way through the biscuits, cake and that half a loaf.

 The second round of ravioli was divine. Exactly what was different was a question, but if Johnny was going to continue to be a magician in the kitchen then he was allowed a few secrets.

 He joked that this was the way to your heart, and he wasn’t far wrong. There was something about a handsome and rugged man cooking for you that was so very seductive. So less ‘way to your heart’ and ‘way into your knickers’.

 His culinary adventures continued with a squid ink version of the bread (still delicious, barely tasted different) and so much chocolatey goodness.

 Despite previously thinking such things impossible, you liked chocolate as much as the next woman, it was getting more than a bit much.

 “Don’t worry. I’ll take a break on the old chocolate,” he reassured you over some jjajangmyeon. “I’ve got a few more ideas up my sleeve.”

 He bought you a pie.

 It was rectangular, but certainly a pie.

 “I thought you said you made buns?”

 “I did hen, a bun at least. This is a black bun, it’s traditional around Hogmanay.”

 When he cut it open you could see why it was called that.

 The filling was dark as a moonless night and chock full of dried fruit.

 Granted, you were a bit leery, but you gave it a shot and were pleasantly surprised.

 “This is good. Remind me to come ‘round yours for New Year’s.”

 “It’ll be an invitation, not a reminder, lass.”

 You grinned, even with currents stuck in your teeth.

 The next thing he bought you was fudge.

 You were more dubious about this one than the pie.

 “Why is it black?”

 “It’s liquorice flavoured. Me mam asked me to make some, thought I’d let you try it too.”

 Maybe you could deal with the dried fruit, but the liquorice was a bit much. All sorts were one thing, but this flavour and this texture? It was weird and gritty and didn’t go. No thank you.

 “Well, you win some you lose some,” he grinned, “they can’t all be winners.”

 The liquorice might not have been, but the black sesame seed mochi certainly was.

 “It’s good in a porridge too, they use rice starch to thicken it.”

 You raised an eyebrow at him.

 “Porridge without oats? Do your countrymen know you’re speaking such blasphemy?”

 “Aye, aye. Fair point. You keep this schtumm and I'll work on some fusion cuisine so they don’t burn me in Parliament square.”

 It took a few days, but the proper black sesame seed porridge was welcome. You’d been feeling a little under the weather lately.

 “So what do we call this? Scorean? Kortish?”

 “Please stop.”

 “You’re no fun.”

 Johnny pouted.

 “Oh right. Before I forget; what happened to that soap making? Or am I just not getting any?” It was your turn to pout.

 “Ah, I decided to go cold process. So it’ll be ready when I get back from deployment.”

 You nodded.

 “Do you want me to bring some down when I come pick you up so we can throw it at Simon? ‘Cause he’s gonna need it with that fucking mask he’s always wearing.”

 Johnny’s eyebrow’s rose.

 “I still don’t get why you hate it so much.”

 “I swear he’s making faces at me under that thing.”

 “Really?” He asked dubiously.

 “I just don’t like it. He gives me a weird vibe.”

 Johnny looked affronted.

 “Hey-“

 “Because of the mask. Hated it during the pandemic, too. I’d last three minutes in Japan in the winter.”

 “I’ll take you in the summer then,” he smiled softly, placated.

 You rolled your eyes affectionately.

 “I’ll hold you to that.”

 As ever, it was with a heavy heart that you saw him off the next day.

 He did leave you with some treats to tide you over. Another black bun, some biscuits (chocolate was back on the menu) and a box of lovely dark parkin. Altogether, it should last most of the time he was away.

 It didn’t.

 You stress ate most of it when you found out you were pregnant.

[loiteringandlurking]

ohhhhgggKAY y'all

I have some personal albert hc's based on a character workshop today (very based off of other peoples Albert hc's)

- he has a mother and two younger sisters, his dad either walked out or died

- his mother is either sick or drunk so it's mostly up to him to provide for his family.

- his closest/only friends are the New York newsies. he's very apprehensive of katherine at first.

- he wears his newsie hat backwards (though we knew this)

- he's super hyper masc and stoic and cold to hide his insecurities about his feminine traits- he wants to go to culinary school and become a chef, and is also grappling with his sexuality and a crush on jack/race

- the abscencr of his father also played a hand in his demeanour and insecurities, he never really had a male role model to show him how to act.

- he has anger/emotional processing issues becuase if his mental health, sexuality and absent father. it's very rare to see him smile, and the only times he really does in the show is during numbers like kony.

- during his rare downtime while he's not selling papes or caring for his mum and sisters he likes to visit this one diner downtown. sometimes they give him food for free or just let him watch the process in the kitchen. they don't let him help because they'd have to pay him and also hes too dirty but it's his comfort place. he would never tell the other newsies. the line cook there is a gay guy and he and Albert talk a lot about everything that albert would never open up to anyone else about.

anyway yah! that's my albert! my silly guy!

ps im starting on the writing reqs :3c

[shesthespinstersimmer]

Workshop: Home Chef Hustle Edition

Featuring:

Ok… we couldn’t wait. And who better to demo the pack than my favorite chef Paula, aka Bear?

First things first - Paula & Saori upgraded her new appliances so there (hopefully) won’t be any shenanigans 🤞🏾

Paula prepped a bunch of batter and dough so she’ll have plenty to experiment with. First up? Chicken & waffles, naturally.

Fantastic! Berry waffles next?

However, just as the pizza was going in the oven…

Catastrophe struck.

So you’re telling me you can have max cooking skill, upgrade all the appliances, and STILL have a problem???

Make it make sense.

It could’ve been worse, I guess. It was delicious, so there’s that.

HCH Next

[getvalentined]

1, 6, 10, 14 for Tseeve!

I'm answering all of these as postcanon; that's when they're permanently together.

1. Which one is the better cook:

This is pretty evenly matched, actually. They cook very different dishes, and neither of them are top of the line chef material, but they're both fully capable. Reeve is an engineer and thus has a pretty strong understanding of things like math, so he may be better at following or formulating a recipe than Tseng, but Tseng is more intuitive in his cooking and can tell what a dish needs to make it better. They also tend to cook very different things, so they're basically even on this one!

6. How they decorated their bedroom:

Tseng prefers a more functional, minimalistic look than Reeve, but neither of them are fans of clutter (not that you'd believe that based on the state of Reeve's workshop) and so their room has a fairly clean, modern style. Reeve uses a lot of bakery box white and dark purple, while Tseng leans more into black and neutrals, so their preferences end up working together well.

Both of them agree that the bedroom has a handful of very specific purposes, so there isn't a lot in there that isn't meant to facilitate sleep, getting dressed, or fooling around. A big bed with too many pillows, a dark duvet (purple in the summer, black in the winter) and a headboard sturdy enough to tie someone's hands to but simple enough not to seem out of place; matching nightstands and dressers just too neutral to be the color of coffee; a single bookcase (on Reeve's side, Tseng takes his books from the study and leaves them on his nightstand until he's done reading them then he puts them back in the study); a lot of different types of lighting. The window has blinds on it, not curtains.

10. What TV shows they watch together, and which ones they hide from the other:

Reeve wishes he had time for TV, but he really doesn't. He also didn't really grow up with TV as a standard form of entertainment, so he mostly gets into radio dramas and the like. Tseng likes those competitive baking shows because they're interesting but undeniably low-stakes, and while Reeve won't seek that kind of thing out, he enjoys watching it with Tseng. Neither of them have any "guilty pleasures" when it comes to media entertainment because, frankly, what they've done in their actual lives is often much worse (Tseng) or looks much more ridiculous (Reeve) than anything a television studio could come up with.

14. What nicknames they call each other:

They really...don't? They'll refer to each other as "commissioner" and "director" on occasion in a tongue-in-cheek sort of way, but it's not so much a term of endearment as it is general snark. (The only arguable exception to this would be when they're doing something D/s related but those aren't nicknames, they're titles and temporary name replacements, and that's completely different.)

(For the ship asks game.)