#choices potluck

[sciralta]

rare occasion where the m!outfit is leagues better than the f!outfit

[pepprs]

the mortifying ordeal of today being a potluck day.

[dialux]

Baking cupcakes for the neighbors ❤️

[poisonheadcrabsalesman]

sorry for no new halloween posts, gestures to the horrors. Also thank you all for the boops! This is a sideblog so I don't know if I can send them back via crab

[noicloud]

[flowersforbucky]

starry eyed

bucky barnes x reader

word count: 3.2k

summary: reader gets a special gift from her secret santa

warnings/tags: mostly just fluff, mutual pining, friends to lovers, avenger!reader, no use of y/n, one minor injury, language, kissing and some sensuality

author's note: short little feel good christmas fic! everyone is alive and happy because i say so. i originally got the idea for this fic last winter, but i hadn't got back into writing at that time. happy that i was able to put it into words finally.

my masterlist

“So, whose name did you draw?”

You shove your hand into an oven mitt, grabbing a large dish out of the oven. Everyone had been assigned to bring a different breakfast food to the Christmas morning potluck.

Sam brought chocolate chip pancakes, Steve brought a shit ton of sausage links, and Sharon brought a giant fruit platter to name a few. You figured that the easiest, cheapest way to help feed a group of a dozen people is a couple tubes of Pillsbury cinnamon rolls.

“That kinda takes the secret out of Secret Santa.”

Bucky leans on the island in the middle of the compound’s kitchen, drinking his second cup of coffee of the morning. His breakfast dish of choice? A sack of two dozen McDonald’s hash browns.

“I was just testing you,” Bucky jokes. “You passed. Do you want to know who got your name?”

“No!” You whack his stomach with the oven mitt and he feigns injury. “I do not. Have I passed all of your tests?”

“I’m proud,” Bucky says after a big gulp of coffee. “You’re stronger than Sam, at least. He’s been asking everyone who drew his name for the last week.”

You roll your eyes. “He does that every year and no one ever tells him.”

Your friends begin filing into the kitchen, everyone grabbing plates and piling them high with all of the food scattered across the island. After making your plate, you retreat to the living room and nestle yourself between Natasha and Sharon on the couch.

Everyone is so occupied with stuffing their faces that there’s hardly any conversation. You halfway pay attention to the Hallmark Christmas rom-com playing on the television as you devour a stack of pancakes and hash browns.

Truthfully, you had hoped to draw Bucky’s name from the hat. You had a gift in mind for him already, and if you’d gotten his name then it would have presented you with the perfect opportunity to give it to him without any pressure for him to give you a gift in return.

You ended up drawing Sharon's name, but you decided to get the present for Bucky, anyway – a vintage tabletop phonograph from the forties that you’d snagged for an incredible deal on eBay. You didn’t put it under the gargantuan Christmas tree with all of the other gifts. It sits in your bedroom, waiting for you to give it to him later today when you’re not surrounded by all of your close friends.

To no one’s surprise, Sam and Peter are the first people to finish eating and immediately begin handing out all of the presents under the tree. You’re still finishing up your breakfast when Peter practically throws a small box wrapped in snowmen print paper towards you.

It's addressed to you, from your Secret Santa. Right off the bat, you’re sure that the gift didn’t come from Natasha – you know how much pride that she puts into gift wrapping. Not that this gift is wrapped poorly, but compared to Natasha’s typically extravagant bows, you’re confident that she wasn't the one who wrapped this present.

You also notice that the handwriting appears to be more on the masculine side. It looks familiar, though you can’t say with confidence who it belongs to.

“Alright, who wants to go first?” Sam says loudly enough to quiet all the chatter going on. “No one would spoil my gift for me and I’m getting impatient.”

You and Bucky share a knowing glance and eye roll at his words. He sits in a recliner directly across from you, holding the gift from his own Secret Santa.

“I’ll go first,” you offer excitedly, giving the box in your lap a small shake that gives nothing away.

You carelessly tear at the wrapping paper until it’s in pieces by your feet on the floor.

“What’d you get?” Sam asks.

You don’t respond at first, taking in the packaging of the box.

A northern lights projector.

You feel warmth spread across your cheeks and you can’t help but smile down at the gift in your hands, no longer having any doubt about who this gift came from.

One Month Ago

“These Spaghettios expired a couple weeks ago. Do you think we should risk it?”

You stand in the small kitchen of the Alaskan safe house, rifling through the limited options in the pantry. Some instant oatmeal packets, a few cans of Beanee Weenees, and the aforementioned expired Spaghettios are tonight’s dinner choices.

You can’t say you’re surprised – you’ve been doing this job for a while, and poorly stocked safe houses are pretty much the standard in this line of work. It doesn't help that this is the fifth night that you and Bucky have spent in this particular safe house, and you've eaten through all of the better options at this point.

“If you want to risk getting food poisoning in addition to that sprained ankle, then you go for it. I'll be sticking to the oatmeal.” Bucky reaches around you, grabbing a packet of maple and brown sugar oatmeal from the shelf that you stand in front of.

He's right. The oatmeal is the safest option.

One more night of this, you remind yourself. Tomorrow night, you'd be back in the comfort of your room, where you can DoorDash Chinese food.

You sigh, grabbing the remaining packet of oatmeal.

“You know, I wouldn't even mind the food situation nearly as much if I could just see the lights. Five nights here and nothing,” you grumble.

It’s your first time in Alaska, and you had high hopes for being able to see the northern lights. Each night so far, after long days of recon, you’ve stayed up past the point of exhaustion checking to see if they’re visible.

So far, the weather had been nothing but rainy and dreary, making the sky close to impossible to see at night. The clouds finally let up some today, but you've still seen no hint of an aurora. Just inky blackness, a crescent moon, and a steady downpour of snow that began a few hours ago.

“You could always get one of those projectors,” he teases with a shrug. “Northern lights, galaxies, constellations… all right there on your bedroom ceiling.”

Even though he won’t say it, you know he wants to see the northern lights as badly as you do. He's made it obvious by the way he glances out the window every so often to check.

You’ve been hoping that they’d make an appearance for him as much as for yourself. He's technically seen them before – decades ago. But never as himself. Never as Bucky.

“Those are neat,” you agree glumly. “I've just always wanted to see them in person. Kinda a bucket list thing.”

Getting to witness them with him would be the cherry on top, but you don’t add that part.

Bucky insists that you sit down on the couch and ice your ankle while he prepares the instant oatmeal for the two of you. You’re too tired to protest, so you retreat to the sofa and flip through the limited number of channels on the old TV with your foot propped up.

Fucking black ice. The last day of this mission and everything had gone swimmingly up until you slipped on a patch of clear ice earlier today, twisting your ankle.

You’re just thankful that it happened in front of Bucky, and not Sam. You can only imagine the teasing that would have ensued if it had been Sam that saw you eat shit.

The two of you eat by the warmth of the dwindling fire while watching a Seinfeld re-run.

You’re over three thousand miles from New York, but it doesn’t feel like you’re far from home at all. Bucky and you have been mission partners for quite some time now, and he has a way of making you feel like you’re at home, no matter where you’re actually at. His presence is familiar and comforting – whether you’re at the compound, or in a different country, or in Alaska – the familiarity and comfort of home is there, as long as he is.

“I’m gonna go get some more wood for the fire before bed,” Bucky says when he finishes scarfing down his food. You give him a quick nod, your mouth still crammed full of oatmeal. “You stay here and try not to sprain anything else,” he teases with a glance at your foot that’s elevated on the coffee table in front of you.

You shoot him an obscene gesture once his back is to you. “You act like my leg got cut off,” you grumble as he exits the house.

No more than ten seconds pass before you hear him call your name from beyond the front door. You look over your shoulder with wide eyes and he all but sprints back into the house with an animated expression.

“What? What is it?”

“The lights. They’re visible,” he exclaims. He walks over to the couch, taking your bowl from you and sitting it on the end table next to you before you can process what’s happening. He offers his flesh hand to you in an attempt to help you up.

“Holy shit, really? You better not be messing with me.” You push yourself up off the couch, momentarily forgetting all about your ankle.

“I’m not messing with you,” he snorts. “Come see for yourself.”

Bucky wraps his arm around your waist and you throw yours over his shoulder, helping you walk to the porch without putting too much pressure on your injured foot. You lean into him, his body heat providing a nice reprieve from the night air as you step outside.

You don’t pull away, and neither does he.

Side by side, you stare up at the seemingly endless expanse of swirling rivers of blue and green. The auroral rays seem to dance across the sky, electrifying the night with the shimmering veils of color.

“Wow,” you whisper in awe. Wow doesn’t begin to cover how ethereal the phenomenon is, but you’re at a loss for words. It’s one of the most beautiful things you’ve ever seen.

You're acutely aware of the bitter chill of the cold wind. If it weren't for the fact that Bucky feels like a personal space heater, your teeth would be chattering. But with the view before you, you find it hard to care.

“I’d give anything to be able to see this where we live,” you breathe. You glance up at him to find him already looking at you.

“Wouldn't you?” You ask him.

“I really would.”

Present Day

“Oooh,” Natasha coos beside you, snapping you out of your memory. “A northern lights projector. I wonder who that could be from.”

You can tell by her tone of voice that she knows exactly who it’s from – even if you hadn't blatantly told her about seeing the northern lights on your mission with Bucky last month, she's too smart to not be able to figure it out herself.

You playfully elbow her in the side, silencing her teasing but the smirk on her face remains.

“Thank you, Santa,” you say with a glance at Bucky. “I love it.”

The rest of your friends open their presents one by one. You try your hardest to pay attention, but all you can think about is how perfect you think the gift that Bucky picked out for you is. He could have just given you a gift card, or a generic gag gift, but what he gave you is personal, and sentimental, and thoughtful.

When all of the Christmas morning festivities have come to an end, you retreat back to your bedroom with your presents. Despite getting many great gifts from your friends, the one from your Secret Santa is by far your favorite.

You unbox the projector and set it up on your nightstand before plugging it in. As soon as you press the power button, the ceiling of your room is covered in shades of blue and green that mimic the natural hues of the northern lights that you had witnessed first hand just a month prior.

You flick your light switch off, making it easier to envision yourself standing under the Alaska sky. Of course, there’s nothing like seeing the real thing, but it’s still pretty, and the meaning behind the gift is what makes you happier than anything.

Smiling to yourself beneath the undulating ribbons of turquoise and emerald, you can’t help but replay the memory of standing under the aurora with Bucky.

How he got so excited when he went outside and realized the lights were visible, the contrast of his warm body against the cold night air as he helped you stand on your hurt foot, and the way that he was smiling at you instead of taking in the scene before him –

Your phone chimes from your back pocket, drawing you back to reality.

A projection probably doesn’t really compare to the real thing, huh?

You smile at your phone, sitting down on your bed. You think of how you should respond when you remember the present you bought for Bucky that sits in your closet.

Come and see for yourself, you respond.

With his room being just a short distance down the hallway, it’s only a few moments before you hear a soft knock against your door.

“Come in,” you say softly.

You’re suddenly overcome with a wave of nerves, and you tell yourself it’s because you’re antsy about giving him the present you'd picked out for him.

Bucky eases into the room, closing the door behind him. He takes in the display across your ceiling with his hands shoved in his pockets – a nervous habit of his that you’ve noticed many times before, though you can’t pinpoint why he’d be nervous right now.

“Pretty cool,” he admits. He takes a seat in front of you on the edge of your bed and finally meets your gaze. “Can’t say it quite compares to the real thing, but at least it’s a whole lot warmer here.”

“The food is considerably better here, too,” you joke. “But really, thank you. It’s definitely the best Secret Santa gift I’ve ever received,” you add, cringing when you remember the toilet shaped coffee mug that Sam had gotten you two years ago.

You use it regularly, of course. But you like Bucky’s gift far more.

“And I got you a present, too,” you add in a small voice before you can chicken out. “I know I wasn’t your Secret Santa, so I hope you don’t think it’s weird. It’s okay if you don’t like—”

“Can I tell you something?” He interrupts you. He’s grinning big – the kind of grin that brings out the lines around his eyes. You snap your mouth shut and answer with a quick nod.

“I wasn’t your Secret Santa originally,” he sighs. “Natasha was. But I convinced her to switch names with me.”

“But why—”

“I got your present as soon as we got back from Alaska, but then I started overthinking it… just thought it would be easier to give it to you if I had the excuse of being your Secret Santa,” he shrugs.

You’re momentarily stunned. It dawns on you – he’d been worried about the exact thing you had. You’d been so worried about him being weirded out by you getting him a gift that you waited until you were alone to give it to him, and he’d been so worried about getting you a gift that he convinced someone else to let him have your name in Secret Santa.

How silly of both of you, you think.

He sits by you on your bed, waiting for your response with a patient, albeit uncertain expression. Your eyes flicker from his eyes to his lips.

It had been a fleeting thought when you stared into his eyes under the colorful Alaskan sky – how beautiful it would be to kiss someone under such a serene and mesmerizing sky. How beautiful it would be to kiss him, here. It was a thought that you shoved down, out of fear for crossing a line and making yourself look like an idiot.

It's a thought that is once again at the forefront of your mind, sitting beside him in your bedroom under the imitation aurora.

Under the true northern lights, or under your bedroom ceiling in New York – it doesn’t matter. You think kissing him would be beautiful anywhere.

And so you do.

Or he does – you’re not actually sure who leans forward first. But you are sure that he still tastes faintly of maple syrup and coffee from breakfast, and that when he cups your face in his flesh hand and tilts it to give him a better angle to sweep his tongue along your bottom lip, your brain turns to static white noise.

You let him set the pace – it’s slow and soft, like he’s trying to memorize the map that his tongue draws inside your mouth. You place one of your hands on the back of his neck, intertwining your fingers in the short tufts of hair.

Still holding your face in his hand, he pulls away with a gentle tug of your bottom lip between his teeth and looks at you in the blue-green glow of the projector’s illumination.

“Was that my present?” he smiles, rubbing his thumb across your cheek. You laugh, reeling in the afterglow of the kiss.

You drop your hand from his neck, and hold up a singular finger to him, indicating for him to give you a moment. You walk over to your closet, retrieving the large gift bag containing the phonograph.

When you walk back over to your bed, you turn on your bedside table lamp for a bit more light before handing him the bag.

He smiles, blushing faintly as he pulls the tissue paper out of the gift bag. He eases the package out of the bag slowly, as if he’s scared the contents will break. You watch as he takes his time with the unboxing, now feeling a fresh wave of nervousness at the anticipation of him seeing the gift.

His smile only grows once he realizes what it is.

“My ma used to have one just like this,” he murmurs in awe. He grabs your hand in his and brings it to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “Thank you. It's perfect.”

He turns to place it behind him on your mattress before pulling your face to his once more. It’s shorter than the kiss before, but just as tender and sweet.

“But just so you know, you could have just given me a kiss, and I would’ve been just as thrilled.”

••••••

thanks for reading!! i had fun writing this cute little piece ♡

[regionalpancake]

While Benjamin Sisko owns my whole entire heart, he is a cook NOT a baker.

Based on technical skill and ability to follow exact instructions - Seven of Nine is the clear choice here. And because I have @startrekpotluck on the brain:

Tuvok: Seven, the logs indicate you have over-ridden atmospheric controls in the mess hall. Please explain. Seven: I was tasked with constructing a Bolian confection for the upcoming competition. Tuvok: The ‘Bake Off’, I am aware. That does not, however, explain the extreme environmental conditions in the galley. Seven: Bakers on Bolarus IX are famed for their use of complex crystallised sugar formations, particularly as the topping of their desserts. Bolian sugar differs dramatically in molecular structure from its Terran counterpart. The crystals need specific environmental conditions to develop. Tuvok: Nevertheless, that level of humidity could be dangerous. Lieutenant Paris has already slipped on the floor. Seven: He will adapt. Tuvok: He fractured his ankle. Seven: Then perhaps I shall offer him a sugar crystal as a ‘get well soon’? Tuvok: I must insist the environmental controls are returned to normal. Seven: I cannot comply. Tuvok: As a matter of ships saftey- Seven: The Captain has ordered me to win. I advise you take the matter up with her. Tuvok: … Tuvok: … I will issue a safety warning for the mess hall. Seven: Thank you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a competition to win.

Newer trek shows need more daily life & hobbies. I don’t even know who cooks or bakes other than pike. That’s some sloppy character development.

[nightingale-prompts]

Babying Batboy

First |Previous|Next

"He's all yours Kori!" Dick said holding up the Batboy burrito.

Danny chirped in distress as Starfire picked him up and swung him around in her arms. "You are much smaller than I thought. So little and cute!"

"Let me see, I wanna see his wings!" Beastboy said rushing over to get a look.

"Nightwing, what's that bag for?" Raven asked Dick joining in.

"It's Batboy's diaper bag." As he said this Danny's eyes snapped in his direction with murder in them, daring Dick to even try putting a diaper on him.

"Æah!" Danny babbled angrily.

"Don't worry he is housebroken." He laughed. "I put his supplies inside. His blanket, his bottles, chew toys, and this set of superhero themed pacifiers. You should give him one now. He gets fussy."

Danny turned red with embarrassment. Toddler-sized or not he was not going to be treated like a baby, at least not in front of the Titans.

"Aww, these are so cute. I've never really understood the use of these things since they weren't needed on my planet but I heard human babies need these." Kori laughed picking out the purple and black Raven themed pacifier and pushing it right into Danny's face.

Danny turned his head to avoid it.

"Looks like the little man doesn't want that one." Cyborg laughed picking up the green and purple Beastboy pacifier instead.

Danny turned his head the other way only to have the red and green Robin pacifier lodged in him mouth.

"I was right, he wanted one that matches his dad." Raven said.

"It's still hard to believe you had a kid," Cyborg said to Nightwing.

"I know, I thought my figure would never recover." Nightwing joked.

The group settled in the living room. Danny was still trapped in Starfire's lap, angrily chewing holes in the pacifier. If Dick pulled out baby food Danny would bite him.

"You know he has deformed wings, right?" Gar tried to sound tactful as he pulled one of Danny's wings to full splay. "His wings are only connected to his back muscles and not his chest. They would need more muscle, bone and wing span to fly. Not to mention the base sits so weirdly at his spine. Poor kid."

Danny hiccuped and tears welled up in his eyes.

One of the drawbacks of shifting is that it requires a shift in your mental state. Cravings, behaviors, and emotions change to match. Currently, the bat and toddler parts are overwriting his sensible older brain.

Right now his feelings were hurt because he worked so hard to make his wing and trained so hard to fly.

"Wehh," Danny whined.

"Gar! You know he might understand you!" Kori scolded him as he hugged Danny close to her chest and patted his back.

"Let me get him." Dick said leaning over to take Danny from Starfire only to have Danny smack his hand because this was all his fault this happened.

Danny pouted leaning into Kori.

"Guys Hex High is one!" Cyborg said calling everyone to the TV.

The other Titans scrambled to get a good seat to watch their favorite show.

Danny immediately perked up to watch.

This episode was a rerun. Nicky the android was debating who to ask to the dance. Rosetta Ferns the bush nymph or Alaska North the Yeti. Nicky doesn't know that Alaska was already going with her ex-boyfriend Finley Reef to see if they can make up and get back together.

"Alaska is too good for either of them and Rosetta deserves better than to be a second choice." Gar sneered.

"Finley was always taking advantage of Alaska's sheltered past to get her to do what he wanted. Remember when he told her that no one would eat the Gundruk she made for the potluck because he thought it was gross." Starfire chipped in.

Danny nodded along he fully agreed. Alaska was his favorite.

Dick hadn't actually watched the show but now he was stuck in the middle of the marathon and he finally understood why everyone loved this show.

Raven was actually the biggest fan and loved Whitney Wisteria the Witch.

Danny had successfully chewed through the pacifier only to get a bottle of juice instead because Kori thought he was hungry.

[luckystarchild]

In an act of petty revenge against intolerant family, I make a point to steal our holiday traditions and haphazardly distribute them to others. Mostly gay people, but also to my unsuspecting coworkers at the company potluck.

This year I stole THE BUTTER TURKEY and also THE CREAM CHEESE APPETIZER, which I mashed up into one single holiday abomination.

What is The Cream Cheese Appetizer?

This appetizer is popular among WASPs in Central Texas. I have no idea if it's popular elsewhere or with other demographics. It has appeared, without fail, at every single family gathering I've attended since I was born. It comprises a block of cream cheese, crackers, and "pepper jelly." Pepper jelly is some kind of fruit jam with chipotle or jalapenos in it for spice. You smear the spicy-sweet jelly and cheese on a cracker and enjoy. It's good, and low effort, and looks fancier than it actually is:

Obviously this is not funny enough to bring to the potluck, however, and not specific enough to my family to count as a true theft. So:

What is The Butter Turkey?

Every year my relatives take a stick of butter (used for spreading on rolls/potatoes) and mold it by hand into the shape of a three-dimensional turkey. I guess it's supposed to be... decorative? Festive? I have no idea who started this or conceived of the idea. Either way, it's funny, and also kinda weird, so at the work potluck I decided to make a butter turkey...but with the cream cheese of the above appetizer instead of butter. Theft AND ingenuity. Love that.

So I took the cream cheese to work today, and (after thoroughly washing up) crafted my son, Cuthbert.

I love him. He has wings, a waddle, and a wonderful tail. It took just 3 minutes to make him but I will love him forever.

Now, the only kind of pepper jelly I could find at the grocery store last night was raspberry. I thought nothing of this. That sounded delicious to me. So once Cuthbert was formed, I took him happily to the appetizer table, placed him just so, and proceeded to pour the pepper jelly over his body.

Immediately I realized my mistake.

He belongs in a children's hospital.

Arranging the crackers around him did nothing to hide the bloodbath. My coworkers chuckled. A few guffawed as they stabbed his already bleeding body with a cheese knife. And all the while I muttered: The turkey is no more. He has ceased to be. He's expired and gone to meet his holiday maker. He's stiff. Bereft of life. Resting in peace. If I hadn't formed him on a plate, he'd be pushing up the daisies. His metabolic processes are now history. He's off the twig. He's kicked the bucket, shuffled off his mortal coil, run down the curtain and joined the bleeding choir invisible. This is an EX-TURKEY.

But then I realized, amid the chuckles and the laughs...the raspberry was actually the right choice. The perfect choice. The ONLY choice. The raspberry pepper jelly's gory glory is what makes Cuthbert the perfect Thanksgiving mascot, because in this lurid display of violent WASP appetizer creation, Cuthbert reminds us all of the true spirit of the holiday: one of colonial violence and bloodshed.

Cuthbert, therefore, is the perfect embodiment of this holiday, and I intend to resurrect this ex-turkey every year for the rest of my life.

[rhondafromhr]

I’m thinking about Bill getting home after the events of Workin’ Boys and as the shock wears off, he can’t stop thinking about that poor girl who played Henrietta who’s probably dead and her striking resemblance to Alice. Thinking about the danger Alice would have been in if she came with him like she was supposed to. He calls her and asks if she wants to come over for a movie night even though it’s not his weekend with her. She’d normally never agree, but something about the way his voice shakes compels her to. She gets there and he just pulls her into the tightest hug and stays like that for a while, needing the physical reminder that she’s here and she’s okay. They watch a childhood favorite of hers that Bill still knows practically word for word from the amount of times he was forced to watch it on repeat when she was little. She’s kind of bored, scrolling through her phone then stumbles across some tweets about what happened. The movie ends and she decides to distract him by telling him about her vampire play with the happy ending. He doesn’t comment on her career choice like he usually does, just so, so grateful that she’s alive that he doesn’t care if she picks the most lucrative, stable career as long as she’s happy. He thinks the world needs more good, kind playwrights like her. He just makes her promise never to put on a play at the starlight - he wants to be there at every opening night and he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to step foot in that theater again. It gets late, but neither of them can sleep, so she asks him to show her how to bake those chocolate chip cookies he always brings to the church potlucks.

[pepprs]

my mom isn’t letting my dad go back to his office bc him being out of the house stresses her out and makes her have a flare up and it’s like kind of insane. like i understand why the idea of him doing that would make her panicky and angry as someone who also struggles w separation anxiety and abandonment shit / has physical symptoms from that kind of stress (though not to the same degree ofc) but also he is a grown man. he should be allowed to go to his office and not have to shape his entire life around her needs. and she keeps guilt tripping him out of it and it’s impacting his quality of life a lot and the whole thing is kind of… hm

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Stardew valley bachelors (and krobus and the wizard) witnessing the farmer chug multiple jars of mayonnaise. Just really slinging it back.

Okay ngl I never did this till right now and I got everybody's reactions so this is based on the responses my farmer got after doing this

Spoilers: they've all known my farmer for about 7 years so it's nothing too shocking to them,,,but it's still highly questionable lmao

.....

Shane

"Umm..."

For years, him and Pam were beer addicts...and now comes along you, the new farmer who's a very...different kind of addict.

An addict to mayonnaise, that is.

For years, people have been judging him for his habit, so it seems fair that he should be allowed to judge you 100% for having the weirdest fucking habit in the valley.

He started opening up to you (in his 2 heart event) and you're just sitting next to him, drinking mayonnaise to wash out the beer he offered you.

Only after you two get closer does he decide "well shit, they're weird..but they're also one of the few who care about me,,,"

And he eventually lets go of it altogether.

But he'll still tease you about your mayo addiction from time to time.

"What're you gonna put in the potluck this year? Gold star mayo? Or did you already eat it on the way here?"

"Oh shut up."

"Heh heh."

Sam

"Gross!"

Considering it's one of his hated gifts, this shouldn't come as a surprise to you.

But the way you've absolutely freaked him out by drinking it in front of him (and subsequently making him miss his kickflip) was hilarious.

"That's what you get for skating on other people's property." You shook your head, smirking as you bring out another jar. "You think Jodi needs some for later? Or should I just drink it in front of her, too?"

"NO! Stop. Please don't do that." Sam hisses. "One, she might uninvite you from future family dinners. And two, she'll think it's one of those weird trends and blame me for it!"

"A trend..hm? Doesn't sound like a bad idea. This town could use one more tradition." You laugh, consuming the jar and not missing the look of horror on his face.

"A-And I thought Abigail eating rocks was nuts...you two would be great friends.."

Harvey

"Umm..."

While he's well aware of the many health benefits to mayonnaise, he wonders if you know that they're best as a condiment....not a beverage you can just sling back.

"But you told me to lay off the Joja Colas, doctor," you pointed out to him. "You're telling me those are a healthier alternative to this?"

"No, that's not what I'm saying at all." He huffs. "It's just..erm..I've never met someone who enjoyed mayonnaise by itself..it sounds-"

"Disgusting?"

"N-No! I didn't mean it like-"

"I'm kidding, Harvey." You laugh a little, amused by his nervousness. "You know any side effects to drinking large quantities of mayo?"

"..none in particular, but that doesn't mean you should-"

"Then if I start feeling anything different, I'll let you know. Thank you." With a wink, you pull out some dinosaur mayo and drink it on your way out of the clinic...with poor Harvey wondering wtf that was.

Regular mayo was fine, but that green icky-looking mayo...had him gravely concerned over what you were doing to your body.

Elliot

"Why?!"

You thought you were being subtle, drinking a little bit of mayo while hanging out at his beachside cabin.

But nope.

You've absolutely horrified this man. Traumatized, even.

It's almost as bad as the time you left a super cucumber on his doorstep, and the next day he sent you a letter demanding to know who made you play this "cruel prank" on him.

In reality, you thought it'd be a nice gift and he'd make something poetic out of a rare sea creature you fished up.

Apparently not and that's when you quickly learned it's a hated one.

"Oh don't be so dramatic," you shake your head. "It's easier to carry than some full course meal."

"But you could have any other food....why that?" Elliot asks, now genuinely curious about what goes on in your mind to think mayo is a suitable choice in food.

You have no explanation though other than "it's most convenient for me and I like the taste".

So he leaves it alone but....maybe it's better not to drink it around him without warning (or drink it when he's buzzed and he may not remember you doing that).

Sebastian

"Umm..."

And here he was, on Ginger Island, hoping to get a brief vacation away from the valley and all its weirdness.

Yet you came along to visit and check on your beach farmhouse--bringing tons of mayo jars with you.

You got thirsty while talking to Seb in the hot sun, and instinctively began chugging the first thing you opened out of your bag.

You don't even realize what you've done until he gives you the strangest look ever.

"Have you always liked drinking mayo...like that?" He raises an eyebrow.

"Um..not since moving into the valley and learning how to make it." You shrugged, smiling sheepishly as you brought out another jar. This time a green color.

"What's that one?"

"Oh! Dinosaur mayo. It's a lot thicker and kinda tastes like a kale drink-"

"I'm sorry, there's dinosaurs in the mines?"

Alex

"Umm..."

"What?" You shoot him a defensive look, cradling the half-empty jar like it's your baby. "You've eaten every raw egg I give you, and I never judge."

"But..that's a little different, isn't it?" He chuckles nervously. "Eggs are great for protein! Drinking straight mayo is...erm....are there any benefits..?"

"It's easy to make with all the eggs in my coop, and um..it keeps my energy up so I don't pass out."

It's an awkward explanation, considering you simply drink mayonnaise for the hell of it and didn't think too much about the "health benefits".

But Alex completely agrees with you, not making any further comments on it in the future.

Although how he's eaten dozen of raw eggs without getting some kind of salmonella poisoning is beyond both him and you.

Perhaps you're both a little bit strange, but he eventually came to accept that about himself.

Wizard

"Umm..."

From the moment you met him and obtained forest magic, Rasmodius knew there was something peculiar about you.

From gleefully retrieving ectoplasm and prismatic jelly for his studies to assisting him in getting the dark talisman back from his ex-wife's home, he's come to trust you as a potential apprentice.

So to drink mayonnaise while looking through his catalogue of expensive magical architecture had him....a bit confused.

"What?" You look at the man standing by the bubbling green pot, his eyebrow raised in question. "C'mon, surely this can't be the strangest thing you've seen."

"No, whatever keeps your spirit and energy nourished is fine and all. But..mayonnaise seems most unconventional. That's all I'm saying. Now I must focus.."

And that's all he says about the matter, not really caring too much.

You're grateful he didn't overreact.

Krobus

"........"

"You're not gonna say anything?"

"About what?"

"About..y'know..me drinking mayonnaise?"

"Why would I? You gift me void mayonnaise. I eat it and use it as a moisturizer all the time!"

Finally, somebody who finds your habit relatively normal---but the only downside is that somebody isn't human.

Makes you often question if you're really human yourself.

It never bothers Krobus whenever you need to sling back a jar of mayonnaise and pull out another one when you return from the mutant bug lair or hike through Cindersap Forest to reach the sewers.

He thinks it's just a normal thing humans do, but when you mention how it's very much not normal in your "culture"..he thinks THEY are weird for not accepting your tastes.

Welp, at least he supports your weird yet harmless habit.

You did try void mayo once and nearly keeled over, so you stick to regular/duck/dino mayo from thereon.

[typhlonectes]

Butternut Squash Pasta Salad with Brussels Sprouts, Pecans, and Cranberries

Nouna's Kitchen

Ingredients: For the Roasted Brussels Sprouts: 12 oz Brussels sprouts (ends trimmed, yellow leaves removed, sliced in half) 2 tablespoons olive oil ¼ teaspoon salt (to taste) For the Roasted Butternut Squash: 1 lb butternut squash (peeled, seeded, cubed into 1-inch pieces) 1 tablespoon olive oil 2 tablespoons maple syrup ½ teaspoon ground cinnamon Other Ingredients: 8 oz pasta (your choice) 1 cup pecan halves ½ cup dried cranberries 3 tablespoons balsamic vinegar or balsamic glaze 2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil (optional, for drizzling) Instructions: 1. Roast the Brussels Sprouts: Preheat your oven to 400°F (200°C) and line a baking sheet with parchment paper. In a medium bowl, toss the halved Brussels sprouts with 2 tablespoons of olive oil and salt. Spread the Brussels sprouts, cut sides down, onto the lined baking sheet and roast for 20-25 minutes, or until the cut sides are nicely charred but not blackened. 2. Roast the Butternut Squash: On a separate lined baking sheet, combine the butternut squash cubes with 1 tablespoon of olive oil, maple syrup, and cinnamon. Toss to coat. Spread the squash in a single layer and roast at 400°F for 20-25 minutes until tender. Note: You can roast the Brussels sprouts and butternut squash on separate baking sheets at the same time, or on one large baking sheet if there's enough space. 3. Cook the Pasta: While the vegetables are roasting, bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Cook the pasta according to the package instructions (usually 10-12 minutes), then drain and set aside. 4. Toast the Pecans: Preheat your oven to 350°F (175°C). Spread the pecans in a single layer on a baking sheet. Toast for about 5-7 minutes, or until they turn a slightly darker color. Be careful, as pecans can burn quickly! Check frequently. 5. Assemble the Salad: In a large bowl, combine the roasted Brussels sprouts, roasted butternut squash, cooked pasta, toasted pecans, and dried cranberries. Drizzle with balsamic vinegar or glaze, and extra virgin olive oil if desired. Toss gently to combine all the ingredients. 6. Serve and Enjoy: Serve this warm or at room temperature. It’s a great dish for fall gatherings, potlucks, or as a festive holiday side. Tips: Storage: Store any leftovers in an airtight container in the fridge for up to 3 days. You can reheat or serve cold. Customizations: Add a sprinkle of feta or goat cheese for extra creaminess, or swap pecans for walnuts or almonds. Prep Time: 15 minutes Cook Time: 25-30 minutes Servings: 4-6

Nouna's Kitchen

[spicerackofblorbos]

Labyrinth | Vendetta Leon Kennedy x gn!Reader

☾ summary ➼ Leon comes home after an impromptu mission and 'finally' meets his neighbor, you.

☾ content/warnings ➼ alcohol, allusions to being an alcoholic, fluff, canon, non-descriptive reader (except you have a mom that cooks and have friends idk lmao)

☾ a/n ➼ hey I really think this song is Vendetta!Leon coded and I just think he needs a warm meal and a big hug. This takes place right after Vendetta, btw. And idk if he even has an apartment at this point since he was in a whole other country at the beginning of it but let's pretend! Proofread once!

☾ wc ➼ ~1k

It had been a few days since defeating Arias and saving New York from his zombification plan – barely. Leon Kennedy was sick of this shit, cleaning up after the disasters of others. There was a reason he was hiding out and drowning himself in bourbon and whiskey before Redfield sought him out.

Now, Leon finds himself practically crawling his way up his apartment complex stairs to his home and subsequently, hopefully, his bed. His body aches in too many places, but honestly he couldn’t care less. He needed a drink and a pillow to rest his throbbing head.

The moment Leon stepped into his spartan apartment, he leaned back against the front door and audibly groaned – half from frustration and the other from pain. His heavy boots thud against the cheap wood panel floors as he makes his way to the kitchen, grabbing a glass and pouring himself his amber liquor of choice.

The dark haired man barely even sat down, didn’t even take a sip yet, before a knock on his door made him jump. On instinct, he pulls the gun he had tucked in his pants out and aims it at the sound, as if there were an enemy right there.

Another knock, gentle and precise.

“One second.” Leon grumbles, setting his glass down on the coffee table, before pulling himself up from the chair with a strained grunt.

When he opens the door, his eyes are drawn instantly to a person standing right in front of him – you. With your warm smile, friendly eyes, and something held out to him.

He’s not even fazed. Exhaustion threatened to crush him, and he just wanted to lie down.

“Listen, I’m not interested in whatever you have to sell. I assure you, I have everything I need.” Leon say dryly, preparing to close the door in this stranger’s face.

“Even your wallet?”

The door stops moving as Leon halts before patting his hands along his jeans. The noticeable bulge that’s usually there in his back pocket is gone.

“Shit.” He mutters. The door opens back up, and Leon sees your small frown and downturned brows.

“I found it on the stairs, figured you might need it.” You remark, handing it out to him again.

“…Thanks.” He grabs the wallet out of your hand, the action a little rougher than intended. That was kind of his thing though, wasn’t it? Being rough around the edges. “Have I seen you before?”

“Um. Yeah, I hope so. I’m your neighbor?” you point to the apartment door behind you with a thumb. Instead of a look of distaste or offense that he had expected, you give him a puzzled yet amused expression.

For the first time in a long time, Leon feels his face heat up in embarrassment. He clears his throat awkwardly as he stuffs his wallet into its designated pocket.

“Right… well. Thanks, neighbor.” He mumbles before turning to close the door again, but he does so gentler than before.

“Hey, do you want something to eat?”

His steps falter again, leather-clad back turned to face you as he processes what you just asked.

“It’s just… I kinda had plans to meet up with a few friends for a potluck dinner tonight and they ended up canceling so I have all this food and it’s too much for one person to eat alone.”

Leon was not in the business of believing in the success of relationships whether it be romantic or platonic. In his line of work, shit like that was dangerous. He used to be a slight flirt – but it’s not like he expected anything to come out of it. It was all a coping mechanism anyway, a way to ease tension that was wound up so tight in him that he thought he might suffocate on his own air.

In fact, he looked forward to the inevitable rejection of his initiations as if it were proof that relationships were a farce and being unlikeable was working out for him.

But to have someone initiate a conversation with him for once? For something completely non-work related, something so mundane as asking to share a meal. Were you expecting anything out of it?

“Depends, what is it?” he asks, turning around to face you again with the door half open. Leon’s dark fringe covers his eye and he shakes it back with callused fingers, only for it to fall back into his face. He really needed a hair cut.

A smile breaks out on your face, so warm and inviting. How had he never paid attention to you before?

“It’s nothing exciting. Chicken and dumplings. My mother’s recipe… sorta. I changed it a lot, actually. She would kill me if she heard me say that. They just don’t know how to season things, you know?” you ramble on, fingers fidgeting with each other as you meet his gaze with more excitement than he’s used to seeing.

“I won’t tell if you don’t.” Leon finds the corners of his mouth twitching.

“Is that yes?”

A pause.

“Sure, I can eat.”

“Great! Uh… okay, so I didn’t think past giving your wallet back. Why don’t you come over and grab some now while it’s hot? And then when it cools, I’ll pack some up to take with you.”

“It’s fine, I can wait until-“

“Please, it’s so much better when it’s just been made. Trust me.” You wave your hand dismissively before turning on your heel to take the few steps needed to your apartment.

As you open your door invitingly to him, he takes a moment to look back into his sparse home, dark and in need of a good dusting. His eyes catch his glass of whiskey, waiting for him on the coffee table.

“Are you coming?”

He turns to face you, a small smile finally breaking through like much needed sunshine.

“Yeah.” He closes his door, the sight of his abandoned drink disappearing behind him.

☾ tagging ➼ @lucysarah-c @antagonize-me-motherfucker @ceruleanrainblues

☾ wanna be part of my tag list? click me!

☾ Leon masterlist!

[chocopinda]

Happy Potluck Secret Satan!! It was my first time participating and I was spoiled for choice with characters because I got to draw for @trucbiduleschouettes ! It was SO tough to pick between all their cool designs but I just cannot resist a good couple, let alone a tragic one. I wanted to lean into the tragedy at first but then went for something sweet in the end.

Little timelapse under the cut!

[unsolvedanomalies]

Drew Latrice Walker for @sekaiouja in this years Secret Satan potluck, which gave me a lot of choice to pick from with the different timelines and whatnot. Hope I captured her in a way you enjoy!