#culinary disaster

[aventurineswife]

Lmaooooo the one with Yor Forger!Reader 😆 Any chance we could get that with Sushang, Feixiao and Qingque? 🤣

Just imagine…someone daring to take a bite—

And then straight keeling over dead to the world. ☠️

“When Love Cooks... but the Kitchen Revolts” | Part 2

Tags: Sushang x Reader, Feixiao x Reader, Qingque x Reader, Crack Fic, Humor/Comedy, Food Gone Wrong, Culinary Disaster, Over-the-Top Reactions, Slight Angst (if you squint), Unintentional Poisoning, Bad Cooking.

Warnings: Food Horror, Exaggerated Reactions, Implied Food Poisoning.

A/N: MY GIRLS ARE GETTING RECOGNITION‼️🗣️🔥✨

[Part 1] | [Part 3]

[Header credits]

Sushang was eager. Very eager. Her wide grin could almost be mistaken for excitement—or was it fear? Either way, she was excited to try what you had prepared for your meal. After all, she was always willing to test her strength against challenges, even culinary ones.

Sitting at the table with her chopsticks poised, Sushang watched you carefully lift the lid from the steaming dish. Her eyes widened with hope, but as the lid was removed, a heavy, ominous cloud of smoke wafted up. Sushang’s eye twitched uncomfortably, but she pushed forward, determined to taste the dish.

A single bite.

The moment it hit her tongue, her entire face went pale. Her hand quivered as she swallowed—if you could even call it swallowing. Her stomach churned in rebellion, but her pride prevented her from showing weakness. For a few moments, Sushang managed to sit still. And then…

BAM!

Her eyes rolled back in her head, her chopsticks dropped, and she slumped forward onto the table with a loud thud.

"Th-the flavor... it’s... it’s like… poison, but worse." Her voice came in a dazed, muffled tone from beneath her arms.

You winced and muttered an apology, unsure whether Sushang had actually fainted or was simply overwhelmed by the sheer force of the meal. Either way, it was clear that your cooking had struck a blow greater than any battle wound.

Feixiao always thought she could handle anything. She’d survived a life of violence, fought against abominations and enemies alike—how bad could a home-cooked meal really be?

When you called her over to try your cooking, she arrived with a casual, confident stride, expecting a delightful meal to complement her otherwise personality. But then the smell hit her—overpowering, strange, and almost wrong.

She eyed the dish warily, an unusual shudder running down her spine. "You... want me to eat this?"

Her heart told her she could handle anything. Her pride as a general told her she had no fear.

But as she took that first bite, her world shifted in a way it never had before. The moment the food touched her tongue, the fury of Moon Rage coursed through her. Not because of her affliction, but because her body rebelled against the impossible texture and the flavor so harsh that it nearly shredded her soul. Feixiao's eyes widened, her hand shot to her mouth, and before she could control herself, she vomited onto the floor.

“That,” she coughed, gasping for breath, “is a weapon of mass destruction.”

Her ears drooped, a rare moment of vulnerability seeping through her usual battle-hardened demeanor. You stared, horrified.

“Don’t worry,” Feixiao said, wiping her mouth and struggling to stay upright, “I’ll... I’ll survive.”

But just as she attempted to regain her composure, the general’s knees buckled, and she crumpled into the nearest chair. “Moon Rage... is kinder than this...” she muttered, slumping down in defeat.

[Header credits]

Qingque had heard the rumors. The food that could make even the toughest warrior faint. She was curious but, above all else, intrigued by the possibility of surviving the meal. After all, as a fan of all things quirky, she wasn’t one to shy away from a challenge—no matter how lethal it seemed.

She sat across from you with a small grin on her lips, as if savoring the potential disaster. When the plate was set before her, the aroma was enough to make her eyes water. It wasn’t that it smelled good; no, it was suspicious. But Qingque was brave, so she lifted the chopsticks and took a tiny bite.

At first, it wasn’t so bad. There was an odd, almost humorous flavor to it. Like burnt something with an aftertaste of... did she detect metal? But she kept chewing, determined to understand this creation. The more she chewed, however, the worse it became.

It wasn’t food anymore—it was a force of nature, rising within her, threatening to take over her senses. Her cheeks flushed, her hand clutched the table, and her usually bright eyes narrowed.

“...No... no, this is—”

And then, with the most dramatic flair, Qingque flopped backward in her chair, one hand pressed dramatically to her forehead.

“Please... if there is an Aeon of Hunger, I beg of you... spare me,” she gasped, “I’m... dying.”

You were horrified, muttering frantically as you checked to make sure Qingque was still breathing. “Wait, no! You’re not—”

"I’m alive," Qingque groaned, lifting a hand. "But this... this is beyond death. I'm too alive. I don't know what's happening, but this... is not food. It’s a curse."

[pratignya18]

Getting future ready

What are you most excited about for the future? Mum was a vegetarian and we grew up on a healthy diet of vegetarian food. Dad introduced us to eating non-vegetarian by taking us to restaurants that prepared them. During those days, chicken tikka with toothpicks sticking out of them was all the rage. I remember gorging on them. We used to polish off 2 or 3 plates in one sitting and then used to…

[littlerequiem]

Feeling all soft today at the idea of Erwin tending to you when you're sick. He comes by every few hours, checking that your blankets are warm, that your sleep is restful, that you have all the medicine and tea to recover.

"Are you sure you're alright?" he asks in a low voice, sitting on the bed next to you.

Though a part of you wants to roll your eyes at his nagging, the other part pauses when you catch the lines of worry etched on his face.

You squeeze his broad fingers then, making a promise. "I'll be fine, 'Win. I'm gonna get better. After all, I have the best caretaker."

[iliveinprocrasti-nationn]

i love pesach but holy shit am i glad i can eat chametz again

[stealingyourbones]

Bologna, peas, and orange soda has been purchased. Culinary crimes commence

[the-most-humble-blog]

🦠 SLUDGEFEST 999.M41 – HIVE SECTORA 17’S "FINEST" CULINARY EXTRAVAGANZA 🍲🐀

💀 Tagline: "If it’s still wriggling, it’s fresh."🎈🥳🎉

Welcome to SludgeFest 999, where food safety regulations are theoretical at best, and if you survive, congratulations—you've just leveled up your immune system! This annual hive-wide biohazard masquerading as a "festival" brings together the worst gutter-chefs, rogue servitors, and waste-tier "gourmands" to battle it out for the prestigious title of "Least Likely to Cause Instant Death."

🦴 ON THE MENU – A TEST OF STOMACH FORTITUDE

🔥 Corpse-Starch Deluxe – Served in three exciting consistencies:

Concrete Brick – Doubles as a melee weapon.

Industrial Paste – Spread it on something. If you can find something.

Suspiciously Chewy – May contain… additional ingredients.

🐀 Mutant Rat Broth – Slowly boiled until the parasites give up. Mostly. A local delicacy, served with a side of "if it’s still moving, just swallow faster."

🥩 Unidentified Meat Mystery Kebabs – What meat? Don’t ask. No, really. Just don’t. Winner of last year’s "Best Use of a Possibly Sentient Ingredient" award.

🤢 FESTIVAL HIGHLIGHTS – AKA REGRETS IN THE MAKING

💀 The "Eat or Be Eaten" Speed-Eating Contest

Rules? First one to vomit gets fed to the next batch. Last year's winner set a record by outlasting the Judges. The current champion has no remaining taste buds.

🍷 Sludge Sommelier Tasting

Featuring the finest reclaimed sewer run-off from Sector 9’s pipe network. Can you tell the difference between toxic runoff and extra-aged hive whiskey? Probably not. Drink up!

🍮 Last Man Standing Pudding

It twitches. It bites. It wins if you don’t finish it. If you fail, the pudding gets to eat you. (Legally, it is not considered a sentient lifeform… yet.)

📢 WARNING: YOUR DIGESTIVE SYSTEM MAY NOT SURVIVE THIS

⚠️ All participants must sign a waiver absolving the Administratum of: ✅ Post-consumption mutations (extra limbs not guaranteed to be functional) ✅ Spontaneous combustion (happens more often than you’d think) ✅ Hive-quake-induced vomiting (high velocity projection = instant disqualification)

💀 REBLOG if you’d risk food poisoning in the name of the Emperor! 💬 COMMENT with the worst thing you've ever eaten—bet it’s safer than this. 🚀 FOLLOW for more grimdark horrors, culinary nightmares, and underhive delicacies!

[fieriframes]

[I give it all up in laughter. The sign of the cross awaiting disaster. Dove flew to me like a vision of paranoia. Dove flew to me like a vision of paranoia.]

[chirp-a-chirp]

Court of Darkness: Satisfaction

A gift to @aide-falls 😊🎂

Fandom: Court of Darkness

Couple: Guy x MC

Word Count + Rating: ~550, PG-13 at the end

Description: Guy’s gift to MC does not go according to plan. Not that he and MC mind 😈

…

MC looked at the cake presented before her. It was clearly expensive, topped with crimson sugar roses on three tiers that cascaded down smooth black fondant. The smell of dark chocolate and freshly cooked sugar tickled MC’s nose.

Guy’s face revealed none of his thoughts, except for a brief eye flicker towards the back kitchen area of his quarters. MC faintly touched Guy’s sleeve as she said, “I really appreciate this Guy, I can’t wait to—“. MC paused, her nose twitching at another smell—this one acrid, lingering in the back of her nostrils.

“It’s not worth your time. Don’t investigate it further.” Guy’s voice brooked no argument. Which meant, naturally, MC had to investigate. MC followed her nose and opened the kitchen door. Before her was a scene of what could only be called culinary carnage.

Scorch marks from a pan blazed the black and white kitchen floor tiles. Gobs of cake batter were be-speckled across the counter, walls, and countless bowls. The windows, normally closed to ensure Guy’s privacy, were wide open; a pleasant breeze flowed that blew away most, but not all, of the smell of burnt sugar and smoke.

But the crowing jewel of it all oozed before MC. Beside the oven on a crystal platter was a pile of cake bits that was somehow burnt yet raw. Charred mounds of sugar vaguely resembling rose petals fell from crumbling cake tiers. Copious amounts of red icing were splattered across the dessert in a furious attempt to lend some sort of artistic flourish. If the attempt was to make the cake look like a crime scene, it succeeded.

MC could not contain her laughter. “Did Sherry help you create this?”

“Do not compare me to Roy’s little sister.” Guy glowered, his voice rumbling with displeasure.

“Yeah, you’re right. I can actually eat your cake…I think.” MC took a spoon to the mangled dessert and brought it to her lips. “It’s very good, and suited perfectly to my tastes!” With a smirk, she added, “Well, the parts that are fully cooked, that is.”

“Are you quite finished? I am not in the habit of making a spectacle of myself.”

“Oh yes, quite a spectacle; it’s so unusual. It’s why I’m enjoying this moment.” MC sauntered towards Guy and wrapped an arm around his waist. “Did you buy the second cake in case this one was a bust?”

“I had no intention of disappointing you.” Guy grumbled, displaying a rare look of vulnerability. “You said you wanted something made from my hands. But I wanted to ensure your satisfaction in case things took a wrong turn.” The soot and smoke covered ceiling proved just how great a turn things had taken.

With a mischievous smile, MC swiped a finger across a pile of red icing, dragging it across her neck. “There ARE other ways to use your hands, you know.”

“Heh, how bold of you.” Guy took a few steps forward until MC was pinned against his body and a nearby wall. His palms skated across MC’s curves, luxuriating in their softness and warmth. Guy buried his head against the crook of MC’s neck, his tongue licking the icing off her skin. “Prepare yourself for what’s to come.”

“Guy…”

“It’s just as I said before,” Guy paused, his breath ghosting across MC’s skin. “I intend to ensure your…

satisfaction.”

[lukida-c]

Collection of my favorite tags in the reblogs

I am in tears

[cynthiabertelsen]

Cake of Bitterness: Children Cooking

Batter beginning As the old adage goes, ” it takes the cake.” None of us likes to recall our culinary disasters, and each of us — no matter how good we may be as cooks — can claim at least one major culinary disaster to our credit. Julia had her broken omelette. With me, it was a cake. Every time I make a cake, I am reminded of my first “from-scratch” cake, in the days when Jiffy cake mixes were…

[fanficrocks]

Robbie’s incinerated cheese pasta-bake!

We’ve already explored Lewis’s domestic challenges, but can we discuss Dr. Laura’s face here? I think the last time she looked this horrified she was being buried alive.

[outtamynoggin]

Dick, at a family dinner: -and THEN the cheese in the fondue started spinning like crazy because he used the wrong kind of cheese, HAHAHAHAHA! I mean, it was basically string cheese. And the fondue spinner was going so fast it started levitating off the table!! So now this giant cheese tentacle is just whipping around, slapping people in the face, knocking over wine glasses, and the guy just SCREAMS and dives under the table like-

Batfam: *between laughing and annoyed*

Jason: I refuse to believe this happened. This isn’t fair, how could this happen without me there?!

Tim: PLEASE tell me this happened at a high-profile gala. Please, please, please.

Damian: *arms crossed, looking disgusted* Only you could witness a culinary disaster and recount it like a battle strategy.

Dick, sticking his tongue out at him: You’re just jealous you weren’t there to see it in person, little D.

-

Dick, in his head: The Marcalone family made a deal with the Sarvanos so they’re both going to be at the harbor on the 14th at 1AM. Julian Viscan knows about this deal because his thugs caught wind of it but he decided to stay out because he’s dealing with Bella Cane after she started a riot on his territory so she can get her hands on the shipment. But I can take out both the Marcalones, Saravnos, Viscan AND Eli Smith, the gun dealer, if I move Viscan to interfere with the shipment on the 14th. Cane's also making moves on Smirth's supply chain while troubling Viscan, which means if I pull Viscan into the fray, I can collapse all four of them in one night. But I need to make sure Vsican thinks Smith's going to betray him to do this.

Dick, to the batfam: *gesturing wildly, eyes laughing* So then, the cheese tentacle just SLAPS this guy's glasses right off his face and he screams and then he starts screaming even louder that he's going to start suing EvErYtHiNg-

Dick: If I remember, Viscan's sister works at Smith&Hopkins Inc so if I mess around with the BPD and get them involved with the company, I can control all 4 of them while causing trouble for-

[spartanmemesmedical]

"Sweet Disaster: The Epic Gulab Jamun Fail"

Write about your most epic baking or cooking fail. It was a balmy evening in Delhi, and you were feeling particularly inspired to try your hand at cooking a classic Indian dessert: Gulab Jamun. Armed with a recipe you found online and a list of ingredients, you embarked on what would soon become an unforgettable culinary adventure. With great enthusiasm, you mixed together the khoya (milk…

[pebblegalaxy]

A Culinary Catastrophe: My Epic Baking Fail Turned Triumph

Write about your most epic baking or cooking fail. In the annals of my culinary escapades, there exists a tale that transcends mere kitchen mishaps. It is a saga of epic proportions, where the delicate art of baking collided with the forces of chaos, resulting in a spectacle of culinary failure that still echoes in the halls of my memory. It was a day brimming with ambition, a day when my…

[levynite]

His views on the matter were shaped early by Robert Egger, the founder of DC Central Kitchen, a non-profit based in the nation's capital, where Andrés lives. Egger's group not only rescues imperfect produce from farmers to reduce food waste, but also salvages human beings that society has left behind, providing culinary training to the formerly incarcerated and other overlooked populations. "He taught me one of the most valuable lessons of my life," says Andrés. "Too often charity is about the redemption of the giver, when in fact it should be about the liberation of the receiver."

[prettyngeto]

hc that gojo satoru is a TERRIBLE cook but when it comes to baking?? bro could open a dessert shop.

"Satoru, what the fuck did you do now?" You mumble, trudging into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you're rudely awoken by the smell of something burning.

"I dont know, babe, I was trynna make scrambled eggs and then the eggs just didnt.... scramble," he whines, a pout on his lips as he turns around to face you, spatula in hand. Or what was left of the spatula... because this man had somehow managed to melt it.

"Toru. Is the spatula melted."

"....No?" he trails off, as you both stare at the clearly misshapen plastic horror that he's holding.

You just sigh, throwing your head back in exasperation. "How the fuck did you even manage that?"

"Girl, I dont know! I followed the tutorial step by step, I SWEAR!" He exclaims, eyes wide as he points frantically to his phone, currently propped up on the kettle, open to a Youtube video on how to make scrambled eggs.

"I'm crying - THERE'S NO WAY you needed a tutorial for scrambled eggs. And you still managed to fuck it up. Oh my god, this is too good." Your laughter is nothing short of diabolical, while he just stands there with the biggest pout on his face.

"IT'S NOT MY FAULT?? The eggs just stopped egging, I'm telling you."

You just stare at him, deadpan. "I'm banning you from cooking. Officially. For the rest of our lives. I'm declaring this a Satoru Gojo-free kitchen,"

"HUH?? But babeeeee, what if I wanna make you breakfast in bedddd." Sigh. What a whiny bitch.

"You can order it. I don't trust your culinary skills."

Before he could protest, the sound of a timer rings out, and Satoru visibly perks up, rushing towards the oven. "Yesss, they're ready. Fucking finallyyy!!" He all but shouts in victory.

Your mouth drops open in absolute shock when he pulls out a tray of the most perfect, golden-brown croissants you've ever seen, flaky layers stacked with precision. You stare at him like he just grew a second head. "B-but you... eggs - not scrambled. Plastic melted... What the fuck." You splutter head darting back and forth between the disaster on the stove and the miracle in Satoru's hands.

"How do you suck at cooking the most basic thing, but you can bake like a fucking Parisian pattisier?"

Your menace of a boyfriend just shrugs, placing a croissant on a plate and handing it to you like he didn't just give you whiplash. "Croissant?"

(You devoured more than half of the tray.)

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ミ★ notes from star: comments and reblogs always appreciated!