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katsukikitten · 3 years ago

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FRIENDSGIVING HEADCANON

Aight so friendsgiving is something the heroes decide to keep a tradition of after they all had to quarantine together during the height of the pandemic.

They have it whenever all of them can meet up. Sometimes it's actually on thanksgiving and other times it's a day or two before or after.

This got long so please look under the cut

Momo has the biggest house so she always hosts, insisting on catering the event but that pisses Bakugou off more than he'd care to admit so instead he barks "How the fuck is that thanksgiving? We gotta cook." Little does he know that if he doesn't assign people an entre or a side to bring it quickly becomes far too similar to an unorganized office potluck with a lot of food but nothing to eat.

He makes denki make the Mac and cheese and every year without fail Kaminari almost drops the decadent dish in the flimsy foil pan until Bakugou buys him "proper fucking cookware" he's hoping this year Kaminari's nerves won't glitch out causing his fingers to drop the only thing of his that anyone can stomach.

Sato brings the rolls, homemade rolls, and butter of all sorts he always makes a chocolate cake too leaving the pies up to Uraraka and Tsu as its a heavy debate if sweet potato or pumpkin is better. Jiro makes these killer stuffing balls, they're like stuffing but in the shape of a huge ball, the outside is the right amount of crunch and the inside is anything but mushy.

Momo is in charge of the pre dinner snacks. Everyone comes over early to watch the day parade and Momo insists on several pre dinner snacks. A cranberry brie dip, a charcuterie board filled with fine meats and cheeses, an array of all sorts of tea and lastly a heavenly homemade sangria. Ojiro and his new wife Toru bring a mean broccoli salad to add to the pre dinner snack.

Tokoyami makes the BEST mashed potatoes hands down. He leaves just the right amount of skin and mashes them just right (not lumpy but not whipped either) they are buttery and so full of flavor that the turkey gravy elevates you and the potato into heaven.

Kirishima oddly enough makes yams with the little marshmallows on top. The yams are to die for and he always has to make an extra pan so Mrs. Bakugou can have some.

Izuku makes the green been casserole and he is not shy about the onion straws on top. For a vegetable that pan sure as hell empties quick.

Mina brings the cornbread and collards. The cornbread is in cast iron skillets and it's so damn good, everyone drools just thinking about it.

Mineta brings the drinks, he admits he isn't the best at cooking but damn if he doesn't provide. Any soda, beer, wine you can think of he finds. He even somehow found a gallon of milk Thanksgiving day on year. Since then everyone put him on beverage detail.

Naturally Bakugou handles the turkey. It's perfect every fucking year. He makes ham too and that hunk of pork has people fighting over the last slice. Every year the comment he should open a seasonal restaurant and sell them and he says "fuck off I ain't sellin out" but everyone reads between the lines and hears I only want to share this with yall. He is also careful to create a vegan faux turkey dish and gravy with Koda in mind.

Koda makes a fine salad, every year it's a new recipe and every year is better than the last. Ida brings this weird dish, maple bacon brussel sprouts. Everyone was leery over it at first but once they had a bite they couldn't RESIST. they drop hints that he better be bringing it to the dinner. Shoji makes the cranberry sauce, homemade and brings one canned sauce because Kaminari insists it taste better as a disk. Aoyama outdoes himself every year, with a delicate sweet yet tart apple pie where the crust is in the shape of a deliciously flaky rose.

Shoto brings an ice box cake, one his mom has passed down for years and finally had the chance to teach him. He also brings cold soba every year and every year Bakugou questions both Shoto's taste buds and capabilities as a hero.

All and all this young group of adults that feel as if they are rapidly aging look forward to the event every year. Everyone comes through the door with a big smile and a tight hug because thankfully they have all lived through another year.

#for onyx my one true fan 😂#bnha thanksgiving #bnha headcannons #bnha imagine

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clydesdonovan · 3 years ago

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if you're still doing the character headcanon asks could i get stan and kenny!!!!! love them.

🥺 and I love YOU anon

I’m gonna stick these under a cut because with two characters it got kinda long lol

Stan:

sexuality headcanon: I am very fond of bi Stan… my beloved (also not a sexuality but nb Stan… also my beloved)

otp: very cliche but honestly style. I am such a sucker for bffs to lovers and they have a picture perfect relationship for the trope, including all the potential angst and fighting/coming back together later on tropes (post covid granted that and I cannot believe it)

brotp: Why do I want to say Stan and Kyle for this also LOL their friendship is just such an integral part of the show and their characters. But that’s cheating sooo I’ll go with Stan and Kenny!! They don’t get as many moments as Stan and Kyle but when they do they’re usually really funny and sometimes sweet.

notp: I don’t think I have any notps with Stan tbh!! Unless it’s like… something gross then no 💜

first headcanon that pops into my head: Stan is a really really good poet. He started writing poetry just to vent his feelings in a healthy way, and the more he did it, the more he realized he had a true knack for it. He hardly ever shares them with anyone cause, you know, they’re really personal, but he does occasionally share them with Kyle or Kenny (because he knows they won’t judge him). He’s entered some of his (less personal, more creative) stuff into contests here and there and by the time he’s in college he’s got a few awards under his belt.

one way in which I relate to this character: not to be stereotypical and too personal lmao but Stan and I are both victim to falling into pits of depression and coping with it in some pretty unhealthy ways 😅 I think part of why “you’re getting old” is one of my favorite episodes is because it’s so relatable to me. which is rather unfortunate but hey at least it’s a good episode imo

thing that gives me second hand embarrassment about this character: nothing tbh!! I guess sometimes he is a little too emotionally motivated, which can be tough to watch. It isn’t embarrassing really though, just more of an “oof that’s rough” kinda thing

cinnamon roll or problematic fave?: Stan is a lil cinnamon roll. He really tries his best and all he wants is to be happy and keep others happy too. Sometimes he is a little misguided and sometimes his emotions get the best of him, but his heart is almost always in the right place. He is always trying to do right by everyone and do good, for himself and for others and for the world. And tbh, he deserves so much better, especially lately (and especially after post covid because what the fuck!!!)

Kenny:

sexuality headcanon: Kenny is definitely pan!!!

otp: I love kenman so much. Like SO much. I honestly think it’s one of my favorite ships from the show as a whole. I also adore bunny too though and I think it’s super cute. Sometimes they fight for my top Kenny ship tbh

brotp: I am once again in love with the idea of Kenny and Clyde being dumb bffs together. It’s one of my favorite friendships tbh. But I also love Kenny’s friendship with Butters. They have a really cute and really great friendship and I love it. Kenny/Kyle too, I just love their interactions but I also love it because of the potential to parallel little Stuart and Gerald 👀

notp: I guess I’d have to go with crenny for this one again. I don’t have a lot of notps with Kenny, he’s one of the few characters I feel like I can find enjoyment in almost all of his ships lol. But yeah crenny is one of the few sp ships I’ve just never had any interest in :/ rip

first headcanon that pops into my head: Kenny is an excellent cook!! Growing up, he got into the habit of trying to make meals that were fulfilling for himself and his family, so he ends up reading a lot of old cook books and recipes, throwing whatever he can find together to make something good. He winds up enjoying it a lot though and ends up experimenting with new recipes for fun!

one way in which I relate to this character: I try very very hard to always see the good in every situation even if it feels impossible. I think Kenny is also someone who always tries to see the good in every situation too. He gets dealt a lot of crappy hands but he always tries to make the best of it, if not for himself than for others, like Karen or his friends. He just wants what’s best for himself and those he cares about and for life to not suck all the time and like… same.

thing that gives me second hand embarrassment about this character: Absolutely nothing bc Kenny is an ANGEL  cinnamon roll or problematic fave?: a cinnamon roll 100%. I mean look at him. I don’t even need to talk about how sweet Kenny is bc I know we all know that. I love him.

#asks #anonymous #I’m happy you like reading my ramblings 🥺🥺#I should start a tag for these kind of asks tbh. maybe later

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prrplwtch · 5 years ago

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headcanons for an mc who likes beel but is a terrible cook. maybe she's watching devildom cooking shows or reading cookbooks to get better, but its a slow process and her meals dont always turn out edible.

Hi nonny, thanks for the request :) Sorry this turned out to be more of a story than a headcanon.

MC was crestfallen. She had often heard the decades old adage from her mother and grandmother that the way to a man’s heart lies through his stomach, but every time she’d been told this she simply rolled her eyes. She knew that they were only saying that to get her to learn to cook, which she did not want to do because every one of her kitchen adventures ended up a disaster - she still could not quite explain how the spaghetti she was boiling burst into flames that one time.

She sighed - why did it have to be that way to the heart of the demon that she fancied also turned out to be through his stomach? This was a disaster.

However, she was not the one to despair for long, so soon MC decided that there was no point in sitting in her room wallowing in her misery and that she needed to go out and find some way to learn how to cook. Perhaps read some Devildom cookbooks, or, maybe, watch a cooking show.

There were a few cookbooks in the kitchens of the House of Lamentation, but for the most part they were not very helpful - she had no desire to prepare a “delightful morning meal” out of leeches and eel eggs, and even less desire to “whip up a magnificent cake with infant blood frosting.”

However, there were a few recipes she figured out she could try, such as “hell-hot soup” and “devilicious brownies”.

The first batch of brownies turned out to be a complete disaster. The second batch was only slightly better, but the third one looked passable, so MC set out in order to find someone to try them. She ran into Mammon right outside of the kitchens, but convincing him to try the brownies was quite hard - the MC even had to invoke the pact.

But, not the one to give up, MC tried and tried again. One day, when she was cooking in the kitchens, Beel came in.

“MC, what are you doing?” he asked, making MC’s heart flutter in her chest - she did not expect him to walk in on her.

“Just practicing this one recipe,” MC told him, “I want to get it right.”

“Oh?” Beel asked, “If you want I can help you - taste it to see if it’s right.”

“I-I think I can manage,” MC protested faintly, however, Beel had already consumed the tray of brownies that was resting on the counter.

“Mhm,” he said after a moment, “It’s really dry. You should put more butter.”

MC nodded and got back to work - and when she turned around, Beel was still in the kitchen. “Are you going to stand here and watch me?” she asked.

“I like watching you cook,” Beel said simply, “It’s nice.”

MC felt her heart flutter in her chest, and she had to turn around in order to not let him see that she was blushing bright read.

The next batch of brownies turned out to be too moist, and the one after that turned out to be entirely too sweet. MC was worried that Beel, disappointed by her cooking will leave, but he stayed with her through another half-dozen batches of lackluster brownies.

The next day when she came into the kitchen, he was there, waiting for her. They repeated the same process of her cooking and him trying it, as the day before.

It took a very long tome of MC cooking the brownies every day and Beel trying them, until one day he said, “These ones...these ones are perfect.”

MC was happy he liked them, so she smiled at him brightly. “Thank you for all your help Beel,” she said, then suddenly noticed that he seemed sad.

“What’s wrong?” MC asked.

“It’s nothing...” Beel started, “It’s just that I really enjoyed spending time with you here, and now that you have perfected the recipe, we don’t need to do this anymore.”

MC took a step towards him, then pointed to the cooking book laying on the table. “There are still plenty of recipes for me to try and fail at,” she smiled, “And I would be quite sad you were not here to provide critique.”

“Really?” Beel asked and a bright smile bloomed on his face as MC nodded, “Well then, what are we eating next?”

#obey me #obey me beelzebub #obey me shall we date #beelzebub x mc #asks #arianne answers

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yunggumii · 5 years ago

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I would like to req: trying to cook new dishes with Bokuto because you’re bored in quarantine. Can be headcanon/fic/whatever style of writing works 🥺🥺

omg thanks so much for the req !! i didn’t expect it to be nearly 2k words but this made me so happy while writing it oh gosh ٩( ᐛ )و i hope you enjoy !!

cooking with bokuto🍽

bokuto x gn!reader

summary: with everything being closed due to the current pandemic, you and bokuto decide to have some fun in the kitchen :D

includes: fluff & light cursing

wc: 1.743K

one-shot below the cut

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Kou, I’m hungry.”

You yawn out as you stretch. Since quarantine started, things have been fairly quiet; all schools and their extra curricular activities have been postponed until further notice, so the time you would normally waste sitting in dull classes and watching late night practices, has instead been spent relaxing with your boyfriend.

“Wanna go get McDonald’s or something?”

Bokuto suggests, sitting up beneath you. You’ve done nothing all day, except for cuddling on the couch and binge-watching children’s movies with him, yet that stir crazy feeling kept nagging you like a bug bite.

“Nah, I was thinking of actually cooking something for once. Constant consumption of fast food has been proven to negatively effect your health.”

You proclaim in an informing tone; he lets out a chuckle, patting the top of your head, “Okay, okay, Dr. [L/N], how does oven pizza sound?”

You shake your head, “I said make something, like, homemade.”

Bokuto chuckles once more, wrapping his arms around your waist and squeezing you tight, “Oh, you meant that kind of homemade! Which recipe do you have in mind?”

With the sudden abundance of free time, you spent most of your days scouring the internet for fun tasks to do during this time off. The one that stood out the most was cooking; there were so many different meals to create and jazz up with your own pizazz, so you decided that’s exactly what you were going to do.

“How do crêpes sound?”

“Skinny pancakes?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his response, “Yes, Bokuto, we’re going to make skinny pancakes.”

You get up from the couch and head into the kitchen, excited to actually do something productive.

“Make sure you wash your hands, babe.”

You announce as you walk over to the sink, pushing the handle up and pumping soap onto your palms. After the suds nearly coated the entirety of your hands, you rinsed them under the warm water and dried them off with a towel. The recipe was already on your phone, so you head over to the pantry to grab the proper ingredients with your device in hand.

Most of the dry ingredients like flower, salt and sugar were always available, since you rarely ever used them. You placed the bags onto the counter and walked to the fridge, opening it slowly. You thought there would be nothing in there, but to your surprise, there was nearly a full carton of eggs, 2 whole sticks of butter, and half a gallon of milk remaining, so you pulled them out, placed them next to the other ingredients and grabbed a mixing bowl and measuring cups.

You look up from your phone only to see an empty couch.

“Kou?”

You call out, slightly confused. He was literally right over there. Just as you were about to go look for him, Bokuto slides into the kitchen, clearly holding something behind his back.

“Y/N! Guess what I found!”

You giggle, amused by his excitement.

“What is it?”

He slowly pulls out an apron and a chef hat.

“Ta-da! Matching cooking attire!”

He puffed out his chest, standing proud as a wide grin appears on his face, “I know, I know. Thank me later.” He says as he placed them on the counter.

You smile warmly. I don’t remember ever buying that stuff.

“Aw, babe, those are so cute!”

A few minutes of arguing about who gets to wear the hat passes by; now you can finally start preparing the batter.

“Stop pouting, Bokuto. You look adorable in that apron!” You cooed, rolling up your sleeves and adjusting the big, white hat that sat upon your head. The apron he was sporting was decorated with little crowns, an assortment of jewels, the words “Queen of the Kitchen” near the chest and a strip of black lace lining the hem.

“Whatever.”

He growls, crossing his arms in front of him.

“Okay!” you say with a wide smile, clasping your hands together, “Let’s get cooking!”

You pour a cup of the flower into the mixing bowl, along with 2 eggs.

“Hey, babe, can you start pouring the milk and water while I stir?”

You ask whilst batting your eyelashes. Bokuto was still a bit salty about the apron fiasco, but caved in almost instantly when he saw your cute expression.

“How much does it call for?” He asked, spinning the cap off the gallon of milk.

“Um, lemme check.”

You shift your gaze from the bowl to your phone and look for the liquid’s measurements.

“Half a cup for each.”

He nods, his determination setting in.

“Gotcha!”

You start to mix the flower and eggs while Bokuto pours the milk in first, then the water. The butter, salt and sugar were slowly added in after, until everything was finally in the bowl. Although the batter was fairly thin in consistency and didn’t require much energy to combine, you started to work up a sweat.

“Wow, laying around all day and not exercising has really gotten to me.” You huff out, wiping the thin layer of sweat off your brow.

Without a word, Bokuto steps behind you, placing his hand on top of the one you were using to hold the bowl, and the other on the one that was mixing; they were warmer, rougher, and much larger than yours.

“Let me help you with that, baby.”

He offered, the vibration of his words tingling down your spine.

You let out a soft giggle as a small smile grew across your face.

“Thanks, Kou, you’re too kind~”

After all of the ingredients were well combined, it was time to actually cook.

You set the frying pan on top of the stove, coating the surface with some oil and turning on the flame. Taking 1/4 of a cup of batter, you pour it into the pan and try your best to evenly spread it around by tilting the pan itself until the entire top was covered. After the first side was fully cooked, you scrape the edges of the crêpe to make the flipping process easier.

“Babe, can you start cutting the strawberries and bananas, please?”

You ask, focusing more on speaking than the current task at hand; just then, you felt a burning sensation on the tip of your finger which caused you to jump back, sucking in a sudden quick breath.

“Shit!”

“What happened, Y/N? Are you okay?”

Bokuto asked, a concern expression plastered upon his face as he rushed over to you.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a light surface burn.”

He immediately reaches for the wounded finger, slowly bringing the digit up to his lips and placing a light kiss on the tip.

“Does it feel better now, babe?”

You couldn’t contain your laughter; that was too fucking precious.

“Yes, thank you, Bokuto.”

He smiled, pecking the top of your forehead.

You resume flipping the crêpe in the pan, hoping it wasn’t burnt; you let out a sigh of relief. Thank god it wasn’t.

After 10 minutes of pouring and flipping, the base of the dish was finished; Bokuto finished cutting the fruit about the same time you did, so it was finally time to eat. You took two of the warm crêpes, and Bokuto took three.

“Man, I’m starving. These smell amazing, Y/N!”

You giggle, a light blush dusting the tip of your cheeks and ears.

“Thanks for your help, Kou!”

“Anything for my little baby cakes.”

He cooed, a wide grin painted across his face as he scratched the back of his head; he loved being praised, especially when it was coming from you. Even if it was a simple task like pouring milk and water into a bowl, or cutting fruit, he was still very happy to be of assistance.

“Okay, let’s start the fun part!”

You grab a handful of strawberries, sprinkling them on top of the first crêpe and folding the corners around the fruit. On the second crêpe, you decided to mix it up and put blueberries and bananas on the inside.

You gasp, remembering something important.

“Do we have chocolate sauce?”

Bokuto looks up from his creation, which was a disaster. A pile of bananas, strawberries and blueberries stretched the “skin” of the crêpe, tearing where it was being pulled a little too taut.

“Uh, it should be in the fridge.”

You rush over to the fridge, practically swinging the door open. You spotted the chocolate, and a can of whipped cream; double win. You skip back over to your crêpe, popping the cap and drizzling the sauce and whipped cream over the tops. After stepping back and admiring your masterpiece, you head to the silverware drawer and grab two forks and two knives.

“Okay, time to finally eat!”

You cut a small portion off, sticking it into your mouth; the crêpe was warm and chewy. Pairing it with the slightly non-ripened strawberries and toppings added the perfect amount of sweet and sour. Bokuto, on the other hand, practically shoveled half the damn thing in his mouth, chocolate sauce dribbled out from the corner of his mouth.

You shake your head, laughing.

“You’re such a messy eater, babe.”

“No, m noth!”

He says, his mouth still very full of crêpe. You laugh even more, wiping the tears from your eyes.

“You should see yourself right now. You look like a chipmunk!”

He furrowed his brow, his cheeks puffing out as he chewed the food quickly. He never noticed the sauce nearly dripping off his chin, so you took a napkin and wiped it for him.

“I could have done that myself, y’know.”

”Yeah, but I wanted to do it.”

He lets out a playful sigh of defeat, now eating his crêpe in smaller bites.

After you both finished eating, you brought your plate to the sink and turned on the water. Bokuto nearly jumped out of his chair, rushing over to you.

“I have clean up duty, babe.”

You turn to look at him with a slightly confusion expression.

“We both did the same amount of work, though. Shouldn’t we split it up?”

“Nope! You got hurt, remember? You need to rest.”

You giggle, hugging Bokuto as you peck him on the lips, the chocolate flavor still lingering.

“Alright, Kou. I’ll go rest.”

He smiles, returning the exchange.

“Good. We can watch more movies when I finish, okay?”

You nod happily, squeezing him tight, his sent flooding to your nostrils.

“Sounds like a plan, babe~”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

taglist✨: @j3lly0gre @imagine-bakery @vventure @hq-cuties @blobbyx2blobfish @baby-boy-taichi @gulfwanq @poppirocks

if you want to be added to/removed from the taglist, just ask ★彡

#haikyuu!! bokuto koutarou #haikyuu!! fluff #haikyuu!! scenarios #haikyuu!!#haikyū!!#koutarou bokuto #kōtarō bokuto

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vanderlindemangofarm · 6 years ago

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The Van der Linde Gang - Pancake Day headcanons

Seeing at it’s Shrove Tuesday/Pancake Day today, I thought it might be fun to write some headcanons for the modern!AU gang and their pancake habits!

In this scenario, I’m imagining everyone living in a big house together. It’s not practical or realistic, I know, but I think it’s cute.

General

It’s one of the few days of the year in which everyone is home for dinner at the same time.

Pearson tries hard not to care - or show that he cares - but he’s been secretly staying up at night for weeks browsing the best pancake recipes online in order to make the perfect batter.

He goes grocery shopping with Jack earlier in the day to buy all the ingredients and toppings - Jack dashes around the supermarket aisles grabbing flour, eggs, milk, butter, every type of spread you can think of, fruit, syrups, chocolates...

Pearson considers asking him to reel it in a little, but decides against it. He actually adds a few extra treats himself.

At home, Sean announces to anyone who’s in ear-range that he’s going to beat his all-time record of eating 25 pancakes in one sitting, tonight.

He says this every year. No one is really sure if ever truly ate 25 pancakes in one sitting, as the number fluctuates every time he tells the story.

He, Uncle, John, Lenny, Kieran and Karen are already breaking into the sweet pancake toppings. Susan scurries around the house after them, snatching back the snacks and scolding them for their gluttony. John almost chokes to death from trying to stuff a fistful of M&M’s in his mouth at once, in a panic.

Abigail, Mary-Beth and Hosea all ask if they can help in the kitchen, but Pearson won’t hear of it. “You leave me to my kingdom, thank you.” he says, only half jokingly.

Jack sits under the dining table and watches Pearson cook, hypnotised.

When it comes to pouring the batter into the frying pan, he’s acquired quite an audience. Arthur joins Jack under the table, sitting cross-legged, cracking jokes to make him splutter and giggle.

Dutch swaggers in, demanding to be allowed to flip the first pancake. Pearson wearily obliges - it’s the same show every year. Hosea sips his coffee in the corner, side-eyeing profusely.

Of course, the pancake ends up on the floor, where it’s immediately devoured by Cain.

Dutch insists it was intentional - that was Cain’s pancake, he explains to Jack, who raises an eyebrow.

After a couple more failed attempts, he manages to toss one perfectly - the entire kitchen breaks into applause.

Arthur offers to make Dutch a t-shirt saying “World’s Greatest Tosser”. Everyone except Dutch (who’s thrilled at the idea) gets the joke.

Sadie surprises even herself by being the best at flipping the pan - she can’t help but grin.

Sean’s attempts stay impressively glued to the ceiling.

Soon, several plates are stacked high with golden, fluffy pancakes. Everyone is drooling.

Trelawny appears at the back door ten minutes into the meal, claiming to have just been passing by and thought he’d stop in...and what’s this? You’re all eating? Well, perhaps he’ll join you...

Everyone rolls their eyes - this is another yearly occurrence.

Swanson ends up eating the most - a whopping 26 pancakes. Several gang members are certain they heard Sean sobbing in the bathroom later.

There’s plenty of bickering - and as a result, a lot of dropped food. Cain has to be watched like a hawk in case he tries to eat any chocolate.

Tilly cuts all of her pancakes into animal shapes, glaring when Susan snaps at her not to play with her food.

Mary-Beth practices singing her name in maple syrup.

Javier saves one of his pancakes, secretly cutting out holes for his eyes and mouth. He wears it around the house like a mask, nearly giving poor Strauss a heart attack as he’s coming out of the bathroom.

The inevitable food coma takes it’s toll on everyone - and everyone agrees that the washing up can wait until morning.

Toppings

Arthur: butter, maple syrup, bacon. Exactly as you’d expect. He licks the plate clean afterwards.

John: peanut butter and Nutella. The topping-to-pancake ratio is way off, with the Nutella almost double the volume of everything else.

Dutch: whipped cream, fresh mango slices and peaches. He likes to think it’s how the Tahitians would eat their pancakes. No one bothers telling him otherwise.

Hosea: lemon and sugar, no fuss, nothing fancy. He sits back in contentment after finishing each pancake, patting his belly.

Javier: apple slices and cinnamon. He’s still trying to convince Bill to do the cinnamon challenge.

Sadie: salted butter, possibly a bit of sugar. She isn’t one for complicated toppings or combinations - why can’t people just eat the darn thing?

Abigail: blueberries and maple syrup. She loves rollings it up like a cigar and eating it with her hands.

Susan: lemon and sugar, just like Hosea. She subtly sucks her fingers clean, eyes closed, her lips pursed together at the bitter lemons.

Micah: bacon, bacon, and extra bacon. Sugar is for the weak. Yes, he says this multiple times over the course of the dinner. Arthur decides to secretly give him vegan bacon next year and see if he notices.

Charles: banana, peanut butter and cinnamon. He only has two or three, preferring to savour them.

Kieran: butter and honey. He makes the cutest noises of contentment as he eats, his eyes closed. He doesn’t care that everyone’s giggling at him, not one bit. He’s in heaven.

Sean: everything on the table. He piles the toppings high, his eyes shining, placing a second pancake over the top like a sandwich. He insists it’s good, and that no, it most certainly was not him being sick at 1am.

Jack: he wants to have everything, like Uncle Sean, but Abigail won’t let him. He settles for Nutella and M&M’s, arranging them in colour order.

Bill: whipped cream and chocolate chips, with bacon on the side. The cream gets caught in his beard, making him look like a terrible Santa Claus impersonator.

Mary-Beth: blackcurrant jam. She loves the colour, the tanginess, but always manages to stain her blouse with purple.

Tilly: strawberries and whipped cream. She piles the cream high, so it looks like a fluffy white castle on a hill. Probably the first to initiate a food fight.

Karen: glace cherries, strawberries, blueberries, cream and maple syrup. She has a massive sweet tooth and loves the way the berries burst in her mouth. There’s also prime opportunity to make lots of inappropriate cherry jokes.

Molly: brown sugar and cinnamon. She eats her pancakes daintily, cutting them into tiny bites. But she’s enjoying them immensely, her eyes shining. She extends a finger to wipe around the plate, gathering any sugar she might have missed.

Lenny: M&M’s, peanut butter, Nutella, whipped cream and sprinkles. This boy wants to make a cake, not a pancake. He layers two or three of them on top of each other, with all the toppings in the middle, slicing it proudly.

Strauss: butter, with a little spoonful of cherry jam. He eats them quietly, sat in his corner of the enormous table, thinking of the way his mother used to make them in Austria. Maybe one day he’ll give Pearson her recipe.

Swanson: butter and sugar. As we’ve already established, the man has a bottomless pit of a stomach when it comes to pancakes. He has a little sleep after dinner, curled up in his favourite armchair, but after that he’s back to normal, barely even bloated. No one understands it.

Trelawny: whipped cream, an enormous mountain of it. He uses up the rest of the can - his face perfectly serious, looking around in surprise when he realises the whole table is staring at him.

Uncle: bacon and maple syrup, with added M&M’s. Everyone tries hard not to watch him slurp up the combination, his chin covered. It’s rather off-putting.

Pearson: plain, perhaps with a drop of lemon juice. As head chef, Pearson got first dibs of toppings, but refused them. It happens every year - he wants no distractions from his perfect batter. Yes, this year was the best batch yet. But next year it’ll be even better.

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jcmorrigan · 5 years ago

Text

Epithet Half-Baked!

I saw through @selfshipimagines that @nougatships is having a Yuletide F/O event...and I know I’m kind of a flighty, shadowy entity in this community, but I do like to write, and thought, what the hey, this’ll be fun. So here I come out of nowhere to contribute a thing.

The F/O? Giovanni Potage from Epithet Erased. The S/I? Rachel Scribere - mundie, writer of much fanfiction, independent contractor supervillainous minion who has also given up on adulting. (Most of those things apply to me IRL!) I decided to go with something a little on-the-nose for the “catering” theme and write about the two of us trying to arrange party food - expect much food talk and many headcanons (e.g. I see Gio as ace, even though that may not end up being Word of God). For optimal results, please listen to the Mariah Carey/MCR mashup “Welcome to the Christmas Parade” while reading this. Not to mention that song will change your life anyway. (Freeman DNI unless you’re going to get the name of the band CORRECT)

***

I wouldn’t say Christmas was my favorite holiday, because it really wasn’t. Nor would Giovanni ever say Christmas was his favorite holiday, because he wanted to look like a cool guy who didn’t care about Christmas. That said, when our invitation arrived in the mail, neither of us needed to do much cajoling to get the other to agree to attend as a plus-one. Almost immediately, we’d begun work on what we were going to wear to the occasion.

Well, to be fair, Giovanni was doing most of the work in that department. I’m still trying to figure out how a needle and thread even works for something besides a dangerous impromptu sushi fork. I did play a role in the design of my formal wear, however – a full-skirted red-and-green gown that served the purpose of making me look like the princess of Christmas and thereby able to pass laws banning the repeated playing of “Jingle Bell Rock” more than three times per night. As for Giovanni, he was dead set on creating the World’s Ugliest Christmas Sweater, and boy, did it ever deserve that capitalization. I don’t have the words to you to describe properly the conglomeration of non-coordinating colors and mismatched winter-holiday symbolism that went into that monstrosity. Which basically meant we were going to be the two best-dressed people in attendance.

However, that still left the important factor: the catering aspect. This was essentially a potluck, and as much as we would have loved to skim off everyone else’s hors d’ouevres and pretend we “dropped” ours on the way there, eventually, our need to show off our cooking skills combined with my compulsion to contribute to community activities won out over the dark side of our consciences.

My first mistake was going into that kitchen with no idea what Giovanni was planning on making. Me? I was set on a hot-chocolate-and-marshmallow cake. Festive and full of my two favorite flavors! Not to mention I’d baked in the past as a hobby, though it had, admittedly, been a while. I was actually rather looking forward to this.

“So, Composer,” Giovanni asked as I set up my laptop, “can we expect any musical entertainment?”

“Damn right,” I said as I clicked through playlists.

“Just please tell me you’re not gonna stick us with three hours of Christmas music bullshit.”

“Oh, trust me. We are going to get enough of that at this party.” I set off a rather jaunty emo-pop number with guitars that were just obnoxious enough.

“Oh, yeah,” Giovanni cried, “this is PERFECT! Totally captures our debonair yet badass essence. THIS is why I let you pick the car music.”

I gave him a playful bow. “Okay. Let’s do this thing.”

I began rounding up my ingredients: flour, sugar, cocoa powder, et cetera, et cetera…

“Done.”

Wait…”What?”

I had only just gotten my ingredients lined up on the counter, yet Giovanni was leaning over the other edge of the island, elbows on the countertop and head in his hands to give me a playfully innocent look, as an enormous pot of something steaming, golden, and tantalizingly scented sat before him.

I peered into the vessel, making note of the contents. “Is this…butternut squash soup?”

“You know it.”

“…You made soup.”

“Is there a…problem with that?”

“Your Epithet is literally soup.”

“Aaaaaand…?”

I marched around to shake my index finger at him on every word: “You. Fucking. CHEATED.”

He rose, pointing right back at me: “I’m. The. BAD GUY. So I don’t care!”

I gave my eyes a sufficiently dramatic roll. “You realize this is gonna take me like two hours.”

“I’ll watch.”

“You could at least help. You’re good with this stuff, you know.”

“Hmm…” Giovanni pretended to think it over. “No, don’t think I will.”

“I hate you.”

“That’s too bad, because I love you a lot, Composer.”

I blushed, then muttering “IloveyoutooandIdon’thateyouandIwasjustkidding.” Quickly followed up with “Okay, I’m gonna start doing this shit BY MYSELF, then.”

Baking an entire cake with your boyfriend just smugly staring at you is…an experience. Not a bad experience. But an experience. Still, I thought I was on a good track so far. Until it came to the electric mixer.

As a disclaimer, I stated, “It’s been a while. I’m a little rusty.”

“It’s just an electric mixer.” He shrugged. “Even I couldn’t screw up – I mean even SOME LOSER LIKE SYLVIE couldn’t screw up using it.”

Well, now the pressure was on. I flicked the appliance to life, dipping it into a pool of eggs suspended in buttermilk, and immediately plunged into chaos. The thing about electric mixers is that they are an extreme balancing act. Too far down into the bowl, and the blades will make a horrible grinding noise against the bowl bottom, making a catastrophizer like me worry about glass shards ending up baked into the dough. However, it is very important that if this happens to you, you do not do what I did and overcompensate by yanking the still-spinning blades out of the bowl, thereby splattering eggs and buttermilk all over yourself.

As I was attempting to figure out damage control, I became acutely aware of Giovanni trying to hide an absolute fit of giggles. “You know,” I growled, “this wouldn’t HAPPEN if you would HELP me.”

I absolutely did not want him to help me. See, I have an inferiority complex the size of the sun, and even that feels weird to say, since it’s admitting I actually possess a large quantity of anything. I wanted to make this monster cake my goddamn self, and I wanted him to be fucking impressed. Still, I was pretty sure if I didn’t ask for his help, I would just end up with some kind of inedible toxic waste.

I wasn’t sure if he was just playing coy or if he knew me all too well when he said “No. Don’t feel like it.”

“Come on!”

“Composer, this is YOUR time to shine! I’m not getting in the way of YOUR masterpiece blowing away the competition?”

“…Gio, it’s not a com – “

“OF COURSE IT’S A COMPETITION! EVERY POTLUCK IS A COMPETITION! WHY ELSE HAVE EVERYONE BRING DISHES OF VARYING QUALITY IF NOT TO DETERMINE THE SUPREME CHEF AT THE PARTY?”

Well, if it meant somebody might think of me as supreme chef, I sure wasn’t going to argue. Unhealthy as that might be for my ego.

So I let Giovanni actively not help me. Even when I tried to crack another egg and it rather exploded from my overuse of momentum. But thankfully, the rest of it seemed to be coming together well. As it baked, I decided to use that time to put together the icing. The recipe, of course, called for cream cheese icing, but that is not real icing (don’t @ me) and I absolutely refuse to sully any of my confections with it, ever. I was making the real stuff – just butter, chocolate, milk, and way too much sugar.

However, that meant a rematch with my archnemesis: the electric mixer. I gave it a very sour glare as I picked it up again.

“Ooh, someone’s mad,” Giovanni teased.

“Damn right I’m mad,” I told him. “This thing fucking hates me.”

“No…I think you’re just bad with it.”

“WHAT THE – “

He was at my side then, using one hand to guide my face upward to meet his gaze: “Because no one and nothing could ever hate you, my beautiful, beautiful Composer. And anyone who does can EAT SOUL-SLUGGER DOOM-BAT.”

Well. Now I was a flustered mess. I gently leaned forward to rest my forehead temporarily on his collarbone. “No, you,” I teased. “I mean it. People who hate you don’t have souls. End of discourse.”

“And this is why we GO TOGETHER!”

“Damn straight.”

It would have been a beautiful moment if I hadn’t been thwarted, yet again, by the mixer. The grinding of the glass, the startled removal of the blades, a chocolate splatter –

Except this time, it missed me. No, the stuff made a direct hit on the tall, pink-haired, and handsome card-carrying villain standing next to me.

I gaped at him momentarily, unsure what to say. Then it all came rushing out: “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry – “

“Sorry?” he repeated, and at first, I thought he actually was angry. “You’re SORRY? Oh, it’s too late to be sorry, Composer.”

When he picked up the quarter-full bottle of vanilla extract from the counter beside us, I realized his game. “This means war,” he growled in a not-very-growly-at-all way.

Our eyes locked. His way of asking permission. I gave the slightest of nods; “I guess I deserve it. But you know I’m not going down without a fight.”

The vanilla sloshed onto me. I smashed an egg onto his shirt. He dumped about a half-gallon of soup down the back of mine.

Now, what you must understand about a food fight that takes place in the Potage-Scribere kitchen is that anything, and I mean absolutely anything, becomes a weapon. Even things that weren’t part of the dishes we were cooking. The refrigerator was raided, the cupboards stripped bare for the ensuing battle. Whatever we could hit each other with, we did. Smashing tomatoes against each other. Sneaking ice cubes into each other’s clothes to try and get a shriek. Several different flavors of soup flying through the air, of course. Retaliation in the form of grabbing the sprayer from the sink and brandishing it like a Banzai Blaster standard-issue pea-shooter.

Then my timer let out a “ding” to inform me that the cake was done baking. Giovanni froze, standing perfectly still as I transferred the cake to the fridge to let it cool down.

Then we picked up right where we left off.

It came to a head when Giovanni had ended up with two cans of aerosol whipped cream, dual-wielding them at me. I had an ice cream scoop in a tub of whipped cream, ready to lob it like a snowball.

Wait - “Gio, why do we have three things of whipped cream?”

“Well, I picked these up when you texted me our respective assignments for grocery day last weekend.”

“I told you to get toilet paper. I was gonna get the whipped cream.”

“No, you said YOU were getting the toilet paper, and I should pick up whipped cream.”

“DID EITHER OF US GET TOILET PAPER?”

“…I’m thinking no,” Giovanni mused.

“Okay, emergency store run after this for toilet paper,” I declared. “Resume.”

Instead of turning the cans on me, Giovanni spun to kick an apple off the counter so that it would hit me in the sternum. I recoiled, but only slightly. “The fuck was that?”

“That? Oh, THAT was…well, Composer, have you been keeping track of how many hits I’ve landed on you?”

My eyes widened. “SON OF A BITCH.”

“THAT’S RIGHT!” Giovanni crowed. “TWELVE! WHICH MEANS WHEN I LET THESE CANS LOOSE ON YOU, IT’S GONNA BE CRITICAL!”

I let go of the ice cream scoop; it clanged to the floor. “Okay, okay!” I put up that hand in a gesture of surrender. “I give!”

“…Seriously? But it’s no fun if you – “

“I am NOT in the mood to get blasted by critical whipped cream, Gio.”

Giovanni shrugged, not letting go of either can. “All right. Then it stops here.”

I pouted. “I really am sorry I started it. Can we just…you know…kiss and make up?”

“Absolutely.”

I had counted on this. I let him shut his eyes, pucker his lips slightly, lean forward. I advanced.

And then, screaming “WORTH IT!”, smashed the tub of whipped cream directly at his face.

The resulting blast of the aerosol whip was like getting hit with the blast of twenty-six cans of aerosol whip – which, really, isn’t that harmful at all. Just a lot messier and with some added momentum; I ended up skidding across the kitchen floor. “Okay!” I laughed. “I really do give in now! I promise!”

Giovanni was already scooping the cream off his face and shoveling it into his mouth (and this is the part where I want to remind you that as ripe of a picking as this seems for innuendo, neither of our sex-repulsed minds would have it). He then slumped down onto the tile next to me, leaning onto me.

“Well played, minion,” he said with a grin. “We’ll make a bona fide villain out of you yet.”

“Bold of you to assume I’m not already there.”

We actually did kiss then, tasting all the sweeter for being covered in sugar.

#yuletide f/o event #selfship #hoooo boy putting myself out here like this #kinda wanna write more of these?#they'd be tumblr-exclusive though #not for my ao3

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arizonatotoronto · 6 years ago

Note

legalization of weed in canada means stoned sex.... right?😄

SO, I decided I wanted to do this prompt but with the boys making and eating edibles. NSFW!

(Everything in this particular headcanon comes from my own experiences and may differ from others’, of course.)

The legalization of weed in Canada is pretty cool, but not exactly life changing for Auston and most of the people he knows.

Like, it means he and Mitch can grow a plant or two if they want, but as far as Auston is concerned, anyone who'd wanted to smoke the stuff has been smoking it already, legal or not.

It's the truth for most of the team, anyway. Auston and Mitch included.

For the most part, Auston will smoke the occasional joint during the season if it's offered to him, and he's not super secretive about using it to relax while he's been nursing various injuries. Weed is fantastic for pain. It's something the NHL tests for, but doesn't exactly punish, and while Auston isn't huge on smoking while training or competing (he needs his lungs functioning at their max), it has its uses.

It's early into the 2018 season when Auston goes down with another fucking bummed shoulder. His friends suggest trying CBD oils, which would definitely help with the pain and are super easy to order online now -- which, yeah. Canada is awesome. There's also the bonus of not having to smoke it to reap the medicinal benefits.

The thing is, Auston's got some good bud laying around at home already, and a tried and true butter recipe that won't stink up the place too bad. It's been a pretty long time since he's had edibles, and just thinking about that amazing full-body high has him popping out to the grocery store to grab cheesecloth and cookie ingredients.

It's definitely not the kind of recipe his Mama had had in mind when she'd given him a Crockpot for Christmas the previous year, but what Ema Matthews doesn't know can't exactly hurt her.

Auston starts making the butter fairly early in the morning, because the longer it simmers, the better the results. Mitch comes home from morning skate to find him in the kitchen, stirring gently at the mixture of butter, weed, and water.

"What are you cooking?" he asks, coming up behind Auston and going up on his tiptoes to hook his chin over Auston's shoulder. He peers down into the Crockpot curiously.

"Hi, baby," Auston says. He presses a soft kiss to the side of Mitch's head, inhales the scent of the shampoo from the arena showers. "It's weed butter," he adds with a laugh, scoops up some of the melted butter and dried green leaves into a ladle for Mitch to see better.

"Oh, shit, seriously?"

"Mm," Auston says. "I haven't made it in forever. You ever had edibles?"

"No, actually," Mitch admits, but he looks interested, and Auston is sort of weirdly excited about maybe getting to share something new with him, if he'd be willing.

"I was thinking I'd make cookies. Like, obviously my mom can never know that we're using her famous recipe to make weed cookies, but."

"Obviously," Mitch echoes in solidarity. "This is cool. Can I help?"

"For sure," Auston says, and this time he's pretty sure his excitement is obvious in his voice. "There's not a lot to do until tonight. It's sort've gotta cook all day for max potency, and then we strain out all the weed bits with the cheesecloth and put the leftover liquid in the fridge so it can clarify."

"And then tomorrow it's butter?"

"Totally. And, like, it'll be *green*, too."

"Wicked," Mitch says, sort of reverantly.

"Do you, uh. Do you think you'll wanna try one? Of the cookies?" And like, Auston obviously doesn't care either way. Plenty of people find edibles intimidating, especially if they've heard stories about other people eating them and then having a bad time. But Auston's done this enough to sort of know how it goes, and he thinks Mitch will enjoy himself.

Mitch takes a moment to consider the question, his fingertips drumming against the countertop.

"It'll just be the two of us?" he asks finally.

"Of course, Mitchy. Whatever you want."

"And like. You'll tell me how much I should eat and stuff?"

"Half a cookie to start, babe, and we can go from there."

"I-- yeah. Yeah, we can-- okay."

"I think you'll like it," Auston says, because he does think so. Mitch enjoys being high when they get the chance, loves getting fucked high, too, and Auston can't wait to show him what it's like when it's a body-high instead -- every sensation amplified in the best way.

"Mm. So how was physio?"

They decide to eat the cookies when Mitch has two days off between home games.

Auston sets them up on the couch in his living room, stocks up on water bottles and takeout food so that they won't have to go anywhere. Mitch looks particularly comfy in a tshirt and a pair of Auston's sweats, cuffed at each ankle because of their height difference.

It's sweet. Mitch looks just... sweet. Eager and excited, as he always is when he gets to try something new with Auston that Auston has promised him will be fun.

He looks the tiniest bit nervous, maybe, too, which is pretty normal. Edibles can be an absolute trip if you have no idea what you're doing (and yeah, Auston's had a few weird experiences that he wouldn't repeat, let alone want Mitch to experience. He knows he can make this as good as possible for him.)

It's important to be somewhere you feel safe and comfortable, at least the first few times, Auston has told him. So they stick to just the two of them, cuddled together at Auston's -- where Mitch spends most of his time these days, anyway.

(That's definitely a conversation they need to have, and soon. It's been long enough now that Mitch really doesn't need to keep paying for a condo that sits empty more often than it doesn't. They're happy at Auston's, and just... Just the thought of Mitch having this safety net place, this backup plan, makes Auston's stomach squirm uncomfortably, go cold with dread.)

They end up baking only two of the cookies. Auston freezes the rest of the dough in pre-formed cookie lumps for later -- easy to throw into the toaster oven whenever they want one.

The cookies come out of the oven looking gooey and smelling fantastic. Mitch is sort of puzzled that he can't smell the weed, that they look just like normal cookies.

"I've kind of perfected the recipe," Auston tells him, feeling oddly proud. "I used to use coconut oil instead of butter, but this is way better."

"You've done this a lot, huh?" Mitch asks, and it's not judgey or anything -- Auston can tell that he's just curious.

"Honestly, I've made a lot more butter and baked a lot more cookies than I've actually eaten," Auston laughs, and then rolls his eyes as he adds, "Most of the guys from the Program weren't allowed to go anywhere near the oven. I got nominated."

"I can see why!" Mitch says, and Auston lets the smug grin spread across his face.

Auston has them eat a small meal before they get to the cookies. He remembers how not awesome it is to have edibles on an empty stomach, and Mitch eats his sandwich happily.

They have the cookies for dessert, standing barefoot in their sweats in Auston's kitchen.

"Half, right?" Mitch asks, his lower lip caught gently between his teeth.

"To start, yeah," Auston confirms, as he breaks Mitch's cookie and sets one piece aside. "We'll see how you feel in an hour. You might not need the other half."

"Okay," Mitch agrees easily. He takes his half of the cookie and looks it over, before tilting his head up to give Auston a small smile.

"Cheers?" He asks, holding the cookie out between them. Auston laughs, feeling so damn fond, and taps his whole cookie against Mitch's half.

"Cheers," he confirms.

Mitch takes a tentative little bite, his eyebrows drawn together like he's honestly expecting it to be gross, and then, "Oh," he says brightly. "That's not as bad as I thought."

"Nah," Auston says, and then he's tearing into his. "Tastes mostly just like cookies, huh?"

"I taste the weed a little bit," Mitch says, and shrugs. He finishes the rest of his piece, and adds, "But yeah. Mostly it's just cookies. Good cookies."

"I'll tell my mom you said so," Auston grins.

They end up on the couch, water and snacks in easy reach. Auston suggests a simple itinerary of video games, some Netflix binging, and maybe some music (which he knows Mitch will interpret as "making out while listening to music" because that's sort of their thing when they're high).

It takes just about an hour for the weed to start kicking in. They're wrapping up another round of Mario Tennis when Auston feels it, that tightness in his face, the tingles that start in his knees and spread slowly outward, like ripples.

He can literally feel himself relaxing in increments, body melting slowly into the couch. It's fucking awesome.

"Oh," Mitch says, around ten minutes later. "Wow, I think I-- yeah. Here we go."

Auston snorts a laugh at the look on Mitch's face, nervous and excited at the same time, like he's trying to decide how the early signs of his high are making him feel.

"Yeah?" Auston asks, interested. "You feel it, too, huh?"

"Yeah," Mitch echoes. "It's... Really, really weird. But a good weird, I think?"

It's early, yet, but they decide to set aside the video games for now. Auston thinks he'd much rather lay back and just let it ride at this point, maybe with an episode of The Office on in the background. Something they've seen before, mindless without requiring too much focus.

He switches the TV over to their Netflix and takes a few minutes to decide on the perfect episode. Before long, he's queueing up "Company Picnic" with a cursory glance over at Mitch.

Mitch, unsurprisingly, is in enthusiastic agreement.

He's pretty quiet throughout the episode, but Auston isn't too concerned by it. Mitch always goes near-silent and contemplative when he's high, and this time he's got so much more sensation to focus on than he's used to. Auston is absolutely in love with getting to see it all play out on Mitch's expressive face.

"Everything is in, like..." Mitch eventually says. He trails off, and Auston thinks he's not even aware of it, the way he's suddenly stuck inside his own head and unable to finish his thought.

Sometimes, when Mitch is really, really ripped, he thinks he's saying things out loud that he's actually only thinking, and it's fucking hilarious how he'll contribute to a conversation long after the topic has changed and everyone has moved on to something else.

"What's that, baby?" Auston prods with a lazy smile. "Everything is what?"

"It's like. Surround sound. But... In my head?" He says, so seriously, and Auston has to bite back his laugh.

"Like," Mitch continues, "Like the sound filters in through one of my ears and out the other? It's... It's really cool. And really weird."

Auston stops for a moment to ponder that, and, huh.

"Shit," he says, sort of awed by the discovery. "Yeah, shit, you're totally right."

Everything begins to sort of unravel after that.

Auston gets lost for a really long time, just *listening*. He's completely let go of the thread of the episode, focused instead on just the sounds and the way they filter in and out, just as Mitch had said.

Every glance over at Mitch reveals him to have become more and more liquid, his body oozing into the cushions. Eventually, he's slid so far down the couch that he's practically flat, his chin resting on his own chest and his feet flat on the floor, sprawled out in front of him.

It's probably not nearly as funny as Auston finds it. He dissolves into giggles that he can't seem to stop, and every time he thinks he's got it under control, another look at Mitch sets him right off again.

"What?" Mitch asks, with a dopey grin. "What's funny?"

"You-- you're--" Auston manages through his hiccups for breath, "You're gonna fall."

As soon as he's said it, Mitch is sliding right off the couch to land on his ass on the floor.

It takes a really, really long time to get either one of them to stop howling with laughter after that.

They break for snacks a little while later. Auston reheats his own Thai curry, but Mitch (predictably, and like a heathen) eats his cold, right out of the styrofoam container.

When Auston checks in with him after, asks how he's feeling, Mitch relays with interest that his limbs are, like, really heavy, and everything feels like it's thrumming with electricity and warmth.

"S'good, though," he says again, and then his face screws up into a sort of unreadable expression, like maybe he's embarrassed about what he says next. "I think I'm kind of-- um."

"Yeah?" Auston asks. He scoots even closer to Mitch on the couch, squeezes gently at Mitch's hip with the arm he's got wrapped around his waist. "Tell me."

Mitch has got this beautiful, faraway look on his face, his big eyes gone glassy from the high.

"I think I'm just-- like. Really horny?"

"Oh," Auston says in realization, because yeah, totally. Auston's been in a low, simmering state of arousal since the cookie -- is always a little turned on when they get high together.

"It's. Um. Like, I want-- I want you to fuck me but I feel like I'd-- I feel like I'm gonna shoot the second you touch me."

And, jesus. Auston hadn't realized just how worked up Mitch has gotten himself. They haven't even been touching, not like that, but...

He reaches down to snag the pillow that Mitch has been resting his elbows on, tugs it out of Mitch's lap. Sure enough, Mitch is fully hard in his sweats, a damp patch already blooming there, darkening the fabric.

"Baby," Auston says, and his voice has gone low and dark, his sex voice, without him even really meaning for it to. "You're already all wet for me, and I haven't even touched you yet."

"God," Mitch breathes, and his hips twitch up almost imperceptibly. He's all flushed and so sweet, his teeth closing around his lower lip as he looks at Auston.

"I don't know why I'm so-- fuck. I just. Even just thinking about it feels so good, like I could-- like I could come without even-- oh my God, Auston."

Auston grabs blindly for his phone. He shuts off the television and tells Google to play one of his playlists, something slow and intimate that he associates with Mitch and sex.

(Because obviously fooling around is on the menu today.

Mitch absolutely loves being touched and kissed and fucked and played with when he's high or drunk. It's something they'd negotiated a long, long time ago.

Auston had just figured they'd maybe get around to making out at some point, enjoying the slow burn of it all. But Mitch is clearly at the peak of his high, and he wants. And Auston will give Mitch anything and everything he wants, every time.)

He pulls Mitch into his lap, gets him settled there with his legs spread wide. Mitch's lip is red and wet from where he's been biting at it, and Auston smears a thumb through the saliva there.

He leans in for a filthy kiss that has Mitch moaning.

"Look at you," Auston says against Mitch's mouth, feels him shiver so hard in his arms. "Wrecked already, just from thinking about my dick in you."

"God, god," Mitch whines. "I want it so bad but I can't-- Aus, I can't--"

"It's alright, baby," Auston says, because Mitch is so close already, and obviously a little bit overwhelmed by it. "Let me make you feel good, yeah? I can fuck you later, okay? Just let me--"

And really, Auston just wants to mess Mitch up, wants to get him off right here, have him come all over the inside of Auston's sweats.

He runs a soothing hand down the length of Mitch's spine, loves the way Mitch arches into the touch like he's starving for it. He gets both hands around Mitch's waist and rocks him forward, hitches his hips against Auston's muscular thigh.

"Yeah," he croons encouragingly when Mitch gasps and repeats the motion. "Just like that, Mitchy, okay?"

And Mitch keeps going, keeps rubbing his pretty dick against Auston and making the most amazing sounds. His eyes are squeezed shut and his mouth has gone slack, and Auston needs to see him *come*.

Auston sucks at his own middle finger, gets it sloppy wet. They don't have lube in the living room, but spit is fine for a single finger -- especially with how close Mitch is to the edge already. He slips his hand down the back of Mitch's pants and gets right up between his cheeks.

Mitch *howls* at the blunt press of Auston's finger at his hole, spreads his legs wider and just opens so fucking easy around the thick slide of it inside.

Auston, for the most part, is content to just watch at this point. The way Mitch is shoving forward to rub off against Auston's leg, and then back to take his finger deeper inside means Auston doesn't really have to do much more than watch, anyway -- Mitch is going to get there all by himself.

"Oh, oh," Mitch gasps. His knuckes are white where he's gripping tight, tight to Auston's biceps.

"Fuck yeah, Marns, feels good?"

"Matty," he says, as he's swallowing hard and tilting his head back to bare his throat. "Matty, m'gonna--"

Auston dips down to press a hot, open-mouthed kiss to Mitch's Adam's apple, feels Mitch's feverish moan against his lips.

"Oh, fuck, Auston, fuck," he nearly wails, and then his ass is clenching tight around Auston's finger and he's rocking in uncoordinated thrusts against Auston's thigh, jerky little grinds with no proper rhythm.

The sound he makes as he stiffens all over and comes, *hard* in Auston's sweatpants, is a mind-blowingly sexy sob of relief that blazes in Auston's veins.

Auston's got an armful of a pliant, satiated Mitch that he tips over gently to slump against the arm of the couch -- so that he can get his own sweats pulled down enough to tug his own leaking cock out.

The sensations are overwhelming, and his own dry hand feels nothing short of incredible as it works over the hot skin of his erection. When he comes, it's with a muffled grunt that he buries into Mitch's shoulder, his hand catching most of his come as it pulses out of his dick, sticky and abundant.

"Jesus," he says, in wonder, after he's finally managed to catch his breath. There's still a puddle of come cooling in his palm and it's pretty fucking gross but...

He really can't manage even thinking about moving right now.

(It takes a lot of prodding and coaxing to get Mitch up and into a nice, hot shower, but they get there eventually.

The spray of the water feels so good on Auston's sensitive skin, and Mitch's moan of satisfaction makes it pretty evident that he feels the same.

Originally, Auston had planned for round two to take place in their bed, somewhere comfortable where he can take his time fingering Mitch open, maybe fool around with one of their vibrators before getting to the main event.

And well. The way Mitch looks right now, naked and gorgeous and so trusting, has Auston getting hard all over again, already.

"Fuck it," he thinks as he shoves Mitch back against the tiled wall of the shower, "We can always go for round three.")

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cookieofearthbread · 10 months ago

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character arc.

Romance/Friendship arc

You started this story a little hard, or awkward, or stubborn. that's okay. it's harder than it should be to admit, but what you really want is love. that's what your story is all about - not just the act of loving, but the allowance of it. the confession that you do not want to fight or bleed or save the world, but to simply feel the way two hands fit so easily together. You will have two chairs and a table and you will shut your blinds, and you will say the word love without faltering. this is a happy ending, and you do not need to feel guilty. it hurts our hands to fight - never to hold.

Corruption arc

So. you got worse. and i'm not entirely sure i can blame you for it. maybe it was in you all along, hidden and waiting, or maybe someone planted it in you and watched it grow. either way, it's there now and you hold it in your fist like a second heart - this blood, this hunger, this thrill of having teeth and using them. Perhaps you are right to. you are a mirror for the hardness of the world, and a mirror that we could all stand to look in more often. it's hard to watch the bleeding bring about more blood, but it is undeniable that you are very good at wounding.

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crimsonsairina · 7 years ago

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Flissa’s Skyhold Boar Pies

When I fangirl over something, I fangirl hard. This is something @aurianavaloria got to witness as I read her wonderful fanfiction, From the Beyond. I ploughed through it in a matter of days, and not only did I start my own fanfiction spin-off, but I also spammed her with comments and signed up as a beta reader.

It didn't stop there, though. As a lover of cooking and good food in general, I found one scene in particular really peaked my curiosity. Namely in chapter 33, when Lea brings boar mini pies to Tamsyn. I immediately decided that I had to replicate them.

Anyone who's read the fic probably knows that while Flissa's cooking is described as delicious, it's also rather limited due to the general lack of ingredients. After they relocated to Skyhold, however, new ingredients started to pour in and Flissa was able to try out new things.

Mind, the boar meat is still quite prevalent, but in this case it was accompanied by spices and vegetables, which helped the taste considerably. In the story the vegetables were specifically mentioned to be carrots and onions, so that's what I went with, too.

Below follows a series of photos of my fan-pie baking adventure, an explanation for my choice of ingredients and the recipe itself. Unfortunately I was unable to make a perfect replica of what Skyhold's boar pies were probably like – no cast-iron muffin tin or hard butter – but ingredient-wise I like to think I got it right.

The Dough

While new ingredients had poured in, the Inquisition was still on a tight budget. Full-fat, all-purpose flour pie doughs are indeed quite tasty, but not only did Flissa have to use cheap ingredients, she also had to feed a lot of people. She also needed ingredients that would take longer to digest, in order to keep people full longer. Therefore, in my headcanon, she probably turned to more coarse grain – if not outright whole wheat – flour and quark.

As such, I used a mix of coarse grain and whole wheat flour, along with quark, ice water and salt. The consistency of the dough was the same and it firmed up nicely in the fridge.

The Filling

The first and obvious choice here is, of course, boar meat. It would be easy to pick regular pork instead, but after speaking to several people who had eaten boar before, I learned quickly that there was a distinct difference in flavour. Authenticity aside, I simply couldn't let such an opportunity pass me by.

However, boar meat isn't easy to get a hold of in my country. After asking at the local grocery store, I learned of a place that's about an hour's bus trip from where I live. I contacted them on facebook and they confirmed they were able to get a hold of what I needed. I'd asked for 350 grams (12 oz), but ended up getting almost an entire kilo (35 oz) more. Not that I was deterred, mind you. The cut of meat that I got was neck meat, with the fat on, as I imagine Flissa would want to use it as well. I didn't use all of the meat in the filling, however, as it was simply too much.

Next were the vegetables. Onion and carrot were much easier to get a hold of. I also decided to add garlic as that probably came with the shipments into Skyhold, as well as some grated apple to help tenderise the meat and add some sweetness to the mix. In my headcanon the apples could have either found their way to Skyhold with the rest of the food or been winter apples picked from mountain trees.

Herbs and spices would be the last, but most important ingredient. Salt would be accessible from salt mines in the mountains, and strong, hardy herbs could be harvested. Sage, rosemary and thyme, to be specific. I also threw in some bay leaves that might have come in through spice trade with Antiva. Pepper, on the other hand, I headcanon would be extremely rare and expensive, if known to Fereldans at all.

Since Ferelden is modelled after England, however, I came up with a little headcanon about the town of Wichford that can be found here. The idea is that they produce a sauce similar to the Worcestershire sauce, except it's called Wichford(shire) sauce. This is probably not very accurate, but it gave me an excuse to use it.

The muffin tin that I used was a regular, non-stick type that I sprayed with some non-stick cooking spray just for good measure. I used liquid butter to sauté the vegetables and cooked the meat in the slow cooker. For the lids on the pies I used eggwash to make sure they stuck together and on top to make sure they got nice and golden.

In total, the pie dough that I used was good for six mini pies, though it's possible to make even more if you have the proper rolling pin skills or a tortilla press. The muffin tin that I used had a total of six muffin slots available, and rather large ones at that.

Even then, however, I was left with a lot of leftover filling, as well as extra meat and broth. I found it works well in tortillas, and in mixtures with boiled potatoes and fresh green onion. You can even put it on bread if you want to.

Now, without further ado, let me bring to you the recipe:

Ingredients:

The dough:

2 dl (0,8 cup) coarse grain flour

1,5 dl (0,6 cup) whole wheat flour

150 grams (5,3 oz) quark

1/2 teaspoon salt

Ice water

The filling:

350 grams (12 oz) slow-cooked boar meat

2 large yellow onions

3 medium-sized carrots

3 large cloves of garlic

A splash of Worcestershire sauce

1 teaspoon fresh thyme leaves

1/2 tablespoon chopped, fresh rosemary

1/2 tablespoon chopped, fresh sage

2 – 3 bay leaves, depending on the size

1/2 teaspoon each of dried thyme, rosemary and sage (you can always add some more fresh herbs if you're not lazy like me)

1 teaspoon salt

2 – 3 tablespoons whole wheat flour

Boar broth (from the slow cooker, make sure you strain it well first)

2 apples, grated

The broth:

3,5 dl (1,5 cup) water

A splash of Worcestershire sauce

5 whole cloves of garlic

3 – 4 bay leaves, depending on the size

The boar meat, seared

The process:

First make the pie dough in a food processor. Add the flour, salt and quark and whirl away until it has the consistency of wet sand. Add water little by little until the dough comes together. I needed only 3 – 4 teaspoons. Once you've got the right consistency, take it out of the processor and work it together. Wrap it in plastic wrap and place it in the refrigerator so it can firm up.

Next, prepare the meat. Depending on the size of your slow cooker and the size of your meat pieces, you may have to cut it into smaller pieces first. Season it generously with salt and dust it with some flour (whole wheat flour for Skyhold budget-friendliness) and sear it in a frying pan on both sides. Put it in your slow cooker and add all the ingredients for the broth. Put on a lid and check package instructions for your slow cooker for how much time you need. I put mine on high for 3 hours.

Tip: It's better to sear and slow cook all the meat than to leave raw meat in the fridge.

Chop the onion and garlic and cut the carrots into small cubes (you don't need to peel the carrots if you want to go full Flissa/Skyhold tradition, unless you're finicky about carrot peel). Sauté the onion and carrot in some butter and add a generous amount of the salt. Add the fresh herbs, bay leaves and Worcestershire (Wichford) sauce and sauté for a while. The onion should be translucent and the carrots begin to soften. Add the garlic and leave the mixture be for about 30 seconds or until the garlic smell dominates the kitchen. Stir it in and put the mixture aside until you're ready to add the meat. It's okay if it cools down, you're going to re-heat it later anyway.

Once the slow cooker is done, take the meat out and leave it to the side to cool. Strain the broth – preferably with a mesh strainer – and then strain it again through a strainer lined with a paper towel to get rid of the fat and dirt. Set it aside until you're ready to use it.

Set your oven to 200°C (390°F). Spray your muffin tin with some non-stick cooking spray. Remove the bay leaves from the vegetable mixture and heat it back up. Trim off the fat from the boar meat and tear it apart. Add it to the pot and give it a good mix. Add the dried herbs, the remaining salt and the flour. Stir until you no longer see any raw bits of flour. Add about 2 – 3 ladles full of the broth. The mixture should be thick and not runny. Add the grated apples and stir them in. Taste for seasoning – if it needs more salt, herbs or Worcestershire sauce, then add it. Once the flavour is to your liking, set it aside to cool a bit.

Take the dough out of the refrigerator and either roll it out with a rolling pin or press it flat with a tortilla press. Use either a ramekin or cups to cut out the pieces. I used two cups of different sizes – a bigger one for the bottom piece and a smaller one for the lids. Place the bigger rounds in the muffin tins and add the filling. Make sure the filling doesn't tower above the dough. Brush some eggwash on the edge of the dough to help the lids stick. Place the lids on top and make sure they're pressed tightly together with the bottoms. Brush more eggwash on top and cut little x-shaped incisions into the lids.

Once the oven is hot enough, place the pies inside and let them bake until the dough is golden and flaky. The total time depends on how thick the dough is. In my case it took about 22 – 25 minutes.

When the pies are ready, take them out of the oven and set them aside to cool for a bit. They'll cool faster if you take them out of the tins, but be careful as it's hot!

Serve alongside your choice of iced tea (ginger and lemon mixed with apple juice is my favourite) and enjoy!

#long post #fan pies #from the beyond #skyhold #dragon age inquisition #aurianavaloria #boar pies #mini pies #recipe #recipe post #fangirling

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martinskki · 7 years ago

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Please feed me. What are your stydia fall/ winter headcanons? .🍂🍁🎃✨🌨☃❄️

OH PREPARE TO FEAST.

they’re Starbucks hoes year round, but they go almost every day from October-December. they make sure they try all of the new drinks and each order a different one every time so they can share

sometimes they’ll just sit in Starbucks and with their drinks (people watching is a joint hobby. they try to guess people’s names before their orders are called)

but sometimes, they’ll get their drinks and drive around for a while, admiring the fall leaves or the sun reflecting off the fresh snow and blasting their favorite Fall-ish albums or Christmas music.

there’s a lookout point that becomes their spot. sometimes they’ll wake up super early, make their own coffee or hot chocolate, bundle up, and pack blankets/breakfast. they cuddle and watch the sun rise and their town wake up slowly, and talk for hours about everything and nothing.

Halloween used to be brushed over since they were always dealing with supernatural issues, but now they love it. they decorate their house on October 1st and plan their couples’ costumes months before. (they always say nothing could be scarier than what they’ve experienced, so they always go for the more creative/cute costumes. their favorite is Fred and Daphne from Scooby-Doo)

they make fun of all of the werewolf/supernatural costumes they see. because LOL.

when Thanksgiving rolls around, they always rotate hosting between them, Scott and Kira, and Mason and Liam. everyone loves when it’s Stiles and Lydia’s turn because they go all out with a decorated house (how do you decorate for thanksgiving? Lydia Martin knows), a buffet of food (Lydia forces everyone to take home leftovers), and Stiles’ speciality “Turkey Day cocktails” (which are really just apple pie martinis that he found the recipe for online, but nobody has to know that)

Stiles lives for those seasonal pillsbury sugar cookies. their fridge is stockpiled with them for 3 months, and they make them at least twice a week. (the raw cookie dough is nibbled on every day. Lydia scolds him, but swipes a bite for herself every now and then too)

their house is one of those that people drive by every year to look at their Christmas lights and decorations. they used to be lowkey about it, but their neighborhood started having a competition for best decorations, and they’re too competitive and prideful to let the snobby couple across the street show them up

the Pack always takes a group trip with their families in December to somewhere cold and snowy. they either rent out a cabin or take up half of the rooms in a ski lodge, and Stiles and Lydia always find themselves sneaking off to the hot tub every night after a long day of sledding, snowboarding, or sitting by the fire reading.

they love ice skating. there’s a cute little rink in town that they regular at in the winter time, and they are the picture of a young couple in love, never letting go of each other’s hands while they skate around. Stiles always tries to do tricks, and they always end up laying on the ice heaving with laughter, a nuisance to everyone else, but they try every time anyway.

every time they get caught under a mistletoe, Stiles is like “ha, you have to kiss me!” and Lydia is like “we’re literally married”

their absolute favorite thing to do on chilly winter nights is to have a harry potter marathon. Lydia is the super nerd that makes homemade butter beer, and they recite the movies line for line and have in depth discussions about characters into the wee hours of the morning

every year, they promise they’re not getting each other extravagant gifts, but every year they break that promise. the gifts are always perfect though, because they’re always listening to each other and know exactly what the other wants. tears are usually involved.

they’re each other’s new year’s kiss every year, obviously, but Stiles always asks if she’ll be his kiss because he’s cheesy like that. sometimes Lydia says no because she’s hilarious like that.

#i could go ON AND ON #my favorite concept #stydia #stydia headcanons #anon #answered #Anonymous

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