#baked goods prompts

[gleafer]

I played with some Twitter friends! Enjoy!

I draw what you ask, but not what you’re expecting!

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 314

Danny has discovered something absolutely amazing. While he can’t cook for shit, he can? Actually bake? Really well? Must be those bonding sessions in Long Now with Clockwork making all those cookies and cakes and everything else. 

But? This means he can A, actually make himself food, and B, has somehow befriended several more ghosts, including his rogues. Apparently he gave off bedraggled cat vibes when covered in flour. Or they just enjoyed the cupcakes he’d made to look like them in a sleep deprived ferver. 

But hey, he even has a decent job while he’s in (online due to medical issues, officially) college at one of the local bakery-cafes. Which means he also gets free coffee, so that’s nice too. Just erm, he might’ve gotten in the habit of handing cookies or other baked goods to anyone trying to attack him.

Look, it’s how he befriended his rogues (Apparently Fright Knight, being the ghost of Autumn, enjoys pumpkin spice cookies, who knew?) and they even continue to visit too. 

So really, it’s not his fault that there’s several goonion (honestly Sam will be pleased to learn they’ve got a union) members who are now constantly coming to the bakery. And- okay is that another undead person? Have a cupcake. 

[call-me-strega]

Dc x Dp Prompt #10: Inter-Dimensional Bake-Off

Alfred was checking the mail the manor had received that day when he found it. In between bills, fan mail, and company missives was a regal purple envelope addressed to one Alfred Thaddeus Crane Pennyworth. Intrigued, Alfred set aside the rest of the mail and sat to open the letter.

Inside was a high quality cardstock invitation of a metallic silver color decorated with luxurious midnight green script. It declared on the front:

“You Are Cordially Invited”

Alfred raised an eyebrow and flipped open card.

Dear, Alfred Thaddeus Crane Pennyworth You have been cordially invited to participate in the first annual inter-dimensional bake-off to celebrate the coronation of the young, King Phantom, age 21, Ruler of the Infinite Realms, the Great One, Protector of Souls, Keeper of Peace, The Perfect Balance, The Infinite King, Ancient of Space and Reality. We have discerned that you are among the top 25 bakers in the 11 most stable and prominent dimensions with an open connection to the Infinite Realms. Thus, we would like to offer you the opportunity to show off and test your skills against talented competitors. Should you accept, all transport, accommodation, amenities, materials, and potentially needed medical care shall be provided by the King and his court. If you would like to bring any specific ingredients or tools you are welcome to file a request for them when you arrive and they shall be summoned to you at the start of the competition. You are allowed one plus one either as an assistant or moral support. Should you have any questions please write them down and place them on the sigil on the next page and recite the incantation bellow: “bonvolu respondi mian demandon” The event shall occur in a fortnight upon the weekend before the kings official coronation ceremony. In order to confirm your participation in the competition please burn this letter with one of your most recently made baked goods. In order to decline simply dissolve this message under running water. Please confirm your attendance or absence within a week’s time. Kind Regards, the Council of Ancients Advisors to the Good King Phantom

Well, it seemed like Alfred had earned a place in a rather prestigious event. ‘It seems a finally have a reason to make use of all those vacation days Master Bruce keeps insisting I must utilize.’ He smiled to himself, tucking the letter into his pocket. ‘I wonder if Master Jason would be amicable to accompanying me for a weekend of baking in a magical dimension?’

~ Just in case anyone has trouble reading the letter:

Dear, Alfred Thaddeus Crane Pennyworth You have been cordially invited to participate in the first annual inter-dimensional bake-off to celebrate the coronation of the young, King Phantom, age 21, Ruler of the Infinite Realms, the Great One, Protector of Souls, Keeper of Peace, The Perfect Balance, The Infinite King, Ancient of Space and Reality. We have discerned that you are among the top 25 bakers in the 11 most stable and prominent dimensions with an open connection to the Infinite Realms. Thus, we would like to offer you the opportunity to show off and test your skills against talented competitors. Should you accept, all transport, accommodation, amenities, materials, and any potentially needed medical care shall be provided by the King and his court. If you would like to bring any specific ingredients or tools you are welcome to file a request for them when you arrive and they shall be summoned to you at the start of the competition. You are allowed one plus one either as an assistant or moral support. Should you have any questions please write them down and place them on the sigil on the next page and recite the incantation bellow: “bonvolu respondi mian demandon” The event shall occur in a fortnight upon the weekend before the kings official coronation ceremony. In order to confirm your participation in the competition please burn this letter with one of your most recently made baked goods. In order to decline simply dissolve this message under running water. Please confirm your attendance or absence within a week’s time. Kind Regards, the Council of Ancients Advisors to the Good King Phantom

The Esperanto translates to “please answer my question"

Edit: now with possible contestants

[ineffably-queer-book-lover]

Aroma

There once was an angel baking up a storm, Turning Christmas treats into an art form. Wielding a whisk In a manner quite brisk, His whipped cream was way above the norm!

There once was a demon with ginger hair, Enjoying the festive scents in the air. A gingerbread heart He got for a start, Made just for him with tender loving care!

Needless to say, this demon was whipped, As his angel pointed out when he quipped, About gingerbread For some ginger-head, And more spicy things not fit for transcript.

@ineffablyruined Sorry, I guess this is a bit of a really weird prompt fill, but my muse insisted and who am I to argue with her? 😉 Hope it's enjoyable anyway. 🤭

[alpineshift]

03 for NicoJack please :)

most certainly 🥰

[3] a tiny village bakery, the shelves stocked with freshly baked goods

"I don't like this."

Beside him, crouching at shelf level and carefully arranging the tray of sweet apple hand pies and chocolate banana muffins, Luca snorts.

"Haven't been hearing that one all week," he says sarcastically, and Nico nudges his older brother with his knee.

"I'm being serious," he complains. "Why aren't you more concerned about this? This is--this is direct competition!"

Luca straightens and gives Nico a very bored look.

"They're a coffee shop, Nicky. Their focus is coffee. Which is pretty good, by the way, if you ever bothered to go over and try. Which I also noticed, you haven't."

Nico doesn't pout, but it's a near thing. A Hughes Cup of Coffee has been the bane of his existence ever since they soft launched a month ago, unveiling a glossy red and white sign and a sleek, upscale interior. Apparently they're a family business too--three brothers, from what Nina reported when she stopped by to say hi.

(Fraternizing with the enemy, Nico had complained. Locking them down on the rent control agreement before the landlords could draw blood, Nina volleyed back.)

Nico should really be in the kitchen, focusing on his updated lemon cream tart recipe (always a hit with the local book club), but he just can't stop scowling at the coffee shop. Sure, it smells extra heavenly down their street and Nico has to admit the custom window lettering is pretty cool, and he's seen one of the brothers (one of the younger ones? with nice blue eyes and wavy honey-brown hair, probably?) try to wave at him from behind the cash once, but it's the principle of the thing.

"I bet you they buy the cheap mass-marketed stuff from the city to go with their drinks," he grumbles instead, slipping back into the kitchen.

"You wouldn't know, since you've never visited!" Luca hollers back.

He feels better once he falls into the comforting baking process. The kitchen is a delightful mess, the air filled with sweetness and warmth and spice and citrus. It's hot back here, and Nico's shed his sweater within minutes, down to his usual t-shirt and apron ensemble as he works. Luca pokes his head in at some point and says he has to run to the bank for change, but it's past rush hour anyway. He's humming along to the radio and he's just popped the last tray of blueberry scones into the oven when he hears the door open.

"Coming!" he calls, and wiping his hands down as he walks into the front. "How can I--"

He stops short. It's one of the Hughes brothers, the one who'd tried to wave at him, hovering nervously at the counter. When he catches sight of Nico, he raises his hand to wave again, then blushes and quickly puts it back down.

"Hey. Um. Hi. Nico, right? I'm one of the owners and baristas across the street--I'm Jack, my brothers and I just opened our shop. Just, uh, thought I'd come over to say hi. And, um, bring some coffee for you and your siblings."

He raises a tray housing three large takeaway cups. Scrawled on the lids are the letters L and N and another one with N, but there's a sticker of a seal on it.

"You and Nina have the same letter," Jack says sheepishly. "But she told me what your favourite animal was. And that you liked cappuccinos, which, luckily, is my specialty. So...these are for you."

"Oh," Nico croaks, then hurries to take the tray, because his mother raised him well and now that he's actually meeting Jack for the first time--wow. Wow.

(Is there a principle to follow when his neighbourhood barista is cute as hell and kind as hell and absolutely Nico's type?)

"Thank you," Nico manages, sincerely. "Uh--can I get you anything? What do you and your brothers like to eat? I can put together a sample box for you."

"Actually," Jack says, rather hopefully, "Whatever you've got baking back there smells fucking incredible. Literally makes me think of Thanksgiving dinner at home."

"Oh--our pumpkin cinnamon loafs," Nico says, and grins, chest warming with pride. "My mama's secret recipe. You want to come around and check it out? It's literally fresh out of the oven."

Jack beams. "I'd love to."

it’s almost hockey season again! send me a jacknico prompt?

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Well, I’m afraid it’s getting late. Uli and Skye were working on making some bread, so she might be able to share later, but as for me and the family, we’re heading off to bed. It was nice chatting with y’all!

—Rusl

[abcwordsurge]

normalize reading lists of prompts with no intention of ever using them

[kekaki-cupcakes]

Day 9 of @bweirdart 's inktober prompt list, 'future'.

[musicallad]

Franletta Month - Day 6 - Cry

@franletta-month

Francesca opened the door to her apartment, legs tired and head aching. She had been rehearsing for the European leg of her international tour that was heading off next month. The smell of chocolate greeted her, and soft piano music could be heard from the living room. “Vilu, honey, I’m home.” she announced, taking her shoes off. As she turned around, she was surprised with the most beautiful woman she had ever laid eyes on. Violetta was wearing a soft pink lipstick and a beautiful blue and white dress. “Vilu...” Fran said, awe audible in her voice and adoration obvious on her face. Violetta grinned and took her girlfriend’s hands. “Yesterday, I saw you crying in the kitchen, and I wanted to cheer you up. So, I have made paella and tried to bake baci di dama and I just want you to be happy my love and I’m sorry I couldn't check on you yesterday I had so many calls with my managers and Angie and Pablo’s wedding coming...”

Francesca interrupted her girlfriend with a gentle peck on the lips. “You did all of this because you saw me crying yesterday?” Violetta nodded her head. “I probably should tell you why I was crying then.” Francesca said as her girlfriend squeezed her hands. “Talking often helps but if you don’t want to tell me that is also okay, whatever is going to make you happy.” Violetta replied, a soft, encouraging smile on her face. Francesca chuckled and kissed Violetta’s hands. “Vilu, I love you so much and you are so sweet, but nothing is wrong. I was just cutting onions.” Violetta burst out laughing. “Oh, my goodness, I am so glad that you are okay Fran, I can’t believe I thought something was terribly wrong.” Francesca grinned and pulled her girlfriend in for a kiss. Even if nothing was wrong, she was not going to let her beautiful woman (or food) go to waste.

[silhouettecrow]

365 Days of Writing Prompts: Day 328

Adjective: Violent

Noun: Teeth

Definitions for those who need/want them:

Violent: using or involving physical force intended to hurt, damage, or kill someone or something; (especially of an emotion or unpleasant or destructive natural force) very strong or powerful; (of a color) vivid; (law) involving an unlawful exercise or exhibition of force

Teeth: a set of hard, bony enamel-coated structures in the jaws of most vertebrates, used for biting and chewing; hard, pointed structures in invertebrate animals, typically functioning in the mechanical breakdown of food; genuine force or effectiveness of a body or in a law or agreement; the projecting parts on a tool or other instrument, especially a series that functions or engages together, such as cogs on a gearwheel or points on a saw or comb; the projecting parts on an animal or plant, especially jagged or dentate rows on the margin of a leaf or shell; an appetite or liking for a particular thing; roughness given to a surface to allow color or glue to adhere

[limerickshere]

A warm and a freshly baked meal

Is great to tear into with zeal.

You'd almost go mad

Of pleasure that's had

I really get vampires for real.

warm baked goods are insane. something so beautiful and almost maddening about absolutely tearing into them when they’re fresh. feeling warm all over after. I really do get vampires for real

[blueberry-mufffinz]

Semi-Stylized Reck Bc Yeah I Can Do That They're My OC

[randomlythings]

Advent Calendar 2024 - Day 4

Made with Canva I won’t collapse, even though yesterday’s post didn’t get likes immediately. There can be many reasons, which doesn’t necessarily mean it was terrible. I’m good at keeping it together. There are worse things in the world than no one liking something. Despite being active on social media, I don’t get many likes and even less comments. But I post anyway. Sometimes, people find old…

[dawn-moths]

whoever sent me the tomura request i love you <3

[goodnessofgrace]

God is completely awesome and amazing.

Isaiah 55:6-7 NKJV Seek the LORD while He may be found, Call upon Him while He is near.

[elixirfromthestars]

By The Warmth Of The Oven

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Summary: You are baking cookies for the Avengers holiday party when a certain super solider comes into the kitchen tipsy for the first time...

Word Count: 1.1k

Warning(s): none. pure fluff. tipsy bucky.

Prompt/Event: @the-slumberparty december daze -> is it those cookies that smell delicious or is it you?

a/n: This fluffy drabble is my holiday gift to you my dear Bella @nickfowlerrr ♡ In honor of Can You Feel It? being the first of many beautiful fics I read of yours 🥹🩷 Thank you everyone for reading! ₊˚⊹♡ Likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated!! ♡♡♡

bucky masterlist ♡ || fluffy winter drabbles masterlist ❆

“Smells good…” Bucky’s voice comes out of nowhere from behind you as you grab another tray of chocolate chip cookies from the oven. You glance over your shoulder to find him sauntering into the kitchen, making his way over to you. 

“Freshly baked cookies always do,” you reply with a gratified grin, placing the tray on top of the stove so the cookies have some time to cool off before you plate them. Your friends had already gone through three batches of them and they practically begged you to make more. It was a nice feeling, almost rewarding in a way, knowing something you made was so loved by your friends. 

“‘m not talking about the cookies, doll,” there’s a bit of a slur in his cadence that catches your attention at the same time that your heart skips a beat at his words. You turn to him to see he’s staring at you with a dreamy smile and a twinkle in his eyes, propped up against the counter by his elbow. You frown at his unusual nonchalant demeanor. You’ve never seen him act this way before. 

Your head tilts slightly as you examine him a little closer. There’s a bit of a sway to his stance and his cheeks are tinted pink. “Bucky, are you drunk?” Almost immediately he shakes his head at your question, “No. I can't get drunk,” he replies with an obvious tone, and yet the pouty frown on his face tells a different story. 

“Right, you can’t…” you affirm, mulling it over for a moment,“Unless…did Thor give you some of his special Asgardian liquor?” You ask, stepping slightly closer to him, the apples of his cheeks getting rosier in response. 

“I took a shot. I started feeling funny and came here—felt safe,” he mutters that last part reluctantly, sharing something with you he wouldn’t if it weren’t for the alcohol in his system.

“In the kitchen?”

“With you.” 

Your amusement is replaced with a soft expression at his response. He most likely hasn’t felt the effects of alcohol in decades and a part of him doesn’t know how to cope with the resurfaced inhibitions. The fact that while feeling unwell his first instinct was to come looking for you—it made a warmth spread throughout you that could easily rival the heat of the oven.

You reach out to cup his cheek, soothing the flushed skin with your thumb. He instinctively leans into your touch, his eyes shining with a gentle vulnerability that causes your heart to squeeze in your chest. You and Bucky have always had a flirtatious friendship for as long as you can remember, but it's never gone past that. Seeing him so openly affectionate with you stirs emotions deep within you that you aren’t sure you’re ready to bring to the surface.

“I don’t think the alcohol is going to stay in your system for long, Buck. How about we do this…you wait for me here while I go out and serve the cookies I baked,” his eyes widen slightly and you can tell he wants to protest until you add, “I’ll bring back some hot chocolate for us to share and we can enjoy it along with some cookies while we wait for that liquor in your system to wear off. How does that sound?” You suggest softly and you can see the way he thinks it through before he agrees with a nod.

He doesn’t take his eyes off of you as you plate a few dozen cookies on decorative plates, leaving a handful behind for you and Bucky to share. You make sure to quickly take them out to your friends and serve up two piping hot mugs of hot chocolate before making it back to the kitchen in no time. 

When you meet back with Bucky you find him sitting on the counter where he watches his legs as he swings them lazily to and fro. You observe him fondly for a moment longer than necessary. Trying to commit to memory how carefree and unguarded he is at this moment. When he notices you his face lights up in a way that makes you feel like the most precious person on earth. 

“Here, as promised,” you hand him a mug of hot chocolate which he takes eagerly—too eagerly—as he immediately goes for a sip of it. Before he can, however, you stop him, placing your hand as a barrier between his lips and the mug. His mouth ends up pressed into your palm, and you ignore the heat that finds its way to your face at the softness of his lips brushing against your skin.

“Bucky, it's scalding hot! You’ll burn yourself! Wait until it cools down a bit, please.”

“It’s not gonna burn me, doll. I’m a super soldier. Watch—”

“Bucky!” 

You use the cookies as leverage to coax Bucky into waiting for the hot chocolate to cool down before he drinks any of it. For the next hour or so, you enjoy each other's company. Between the sweet treats and the lighthearted conversations, time flies by in a heartbeat. 

Then, while in the middle of a discussion over your last mission, Bucky does something that completely takes you by surprise in the best way possible—he kisses you. It’s short, but profound in the way he pours everything into it. Every flirtation you ever questioned could mean something more was proven here with this kiss, that it had meant so much more for more than just you. 

You’re speechless when he pulls away beaming as if his heart might burst.

“Looks like I was right.” 

“Huh?”

“I asked myself what was sweeter. You or the cookies. I knew it'd be you,” he states as a matter of fact, drinking up the way his words affect you as much as the kiss had. There’s a part of you that doesn’t believe him, but it's not because of him, but more so because you think you must be dreaming. 

“That's the liquor talking.”

“I've sobered up a while ago, doll.”

You search his eyes for the truth of it all and you find it. This is real. This isn’t a dream. And the yearning that burns bright in his eyes is one you know all too well. It’s the same one reflecting in your eyes as your gazes lock on one another.

“I still think the cookies are sweeter,” you whisper, your eyes shining with a playful challenge despite the way your heart races in your chest with anticipation. He catches on, licking his lips as his flesh hand snakes its way to the back of your head to cradle it gently.

“‘m gonna prove you wrong, doll,” he declares in a huskier tone as he pulls you in for another kiss. And that night, by the warmth of the oven, Bucky continues to kiss you until he successfully proves you wrong.