#flour everywhere

[ashtonsunshine]

Oh to be in the kitchen baking with Ashton.

[bigcats-birds-and-books]

y'all i definitely skidded past 60k with THE Fluffiest Scene tonight, both literally and metaphorically, and i am Absolutely Delighted About It

[lost-sunset-canine]

32nd attack uwu !! Reynard Foxington (my welcome home oc) on the left and Dr.Sunshine (their welcome home oc) on the right check it out on Artfight :3 go check it out and the creator of the character uwu! https://artfight.net/~Phantasmic_Phantom

Another welcome home inspired piece, this time somewhat lore-ish, since Rynard is known for his baking it felt just right for him and Dr.Sunshine to experiment with some dough in a cooking/baking based potential hypothetical episode of welcome home owo -dairiem

[waldau-archived]

I cant insert a photo here on your ask but it goes something like

"Do whatever you want!!!" X said out of anger then character Y kissed him gently. "You said do whatever i want, right?"

whatever — choi seungcheol | 1,821 words | hurt/comfort, fluff

this prompt was really cute!!!

gender neutral reader. warnings: reader is stressed out? and in need of a hug?

you love the sounds that make the house you share with seungcheol your home.

you love hearing the door creak when you open it at that specific angle. you love the sound of the clock ticking in the living room that seungcheol himself picked out. you love the sound of him walking on the wooden floor of your house, the sound of his glass when it clinks against the marble of the kitchen island, the birds chirping in the evening when you take out time to just relax against him and watch the sun set, and the sound of his quiet snores when he insists he wants to watch you watch your favourite shows, only to end up falling asleep.

there’s none of that here, in this moment.

you take off your shoes and kick them to the side, not bothering to open the cabinet to put them inside because the doors make a particularly loud sound when they snap shut, and you don’t want to risk waking seungcheol up again.

it’s been an odd couple of weeks, with you staying out late because of more work and seungcheol staying in because his workload has been relatively less for the beginning of the new year. him being at home would’ve made you happy if you didn’t have to apologize for cancelling and rescheduling dates, or for being left with energy enough only for a bath and a quick dinner, movie plus cuddling sessions replaced by cuddling in your sleep. if you were lucky to get back home in time, that is.

you stop and listen for a few moments. there’s no sound to be heard. the door to your bedroom is shut, which means that seungcheol must have already gone to sleep.

a little pang of hurt stabs your heart. it’s not like you want him to keep late hours for you, but you’re not exactly doing well in these trying times, and you’d really love to have his voice wash out your worries.

a resounding bang from the kitchen startles you. before you can even think of the worst possible scenario that could’ve just transpired, seungcheol walks out of the kitchen, a rolling pin in one hand and some flour on his hair and his rolled up sleeves. the literal definition of a hot mess.

“hey, baby,” he says, eyes widening when he sees you. “i was expecting you to be back in an hour or two.”

so it’s that bad, huh? it’s become normal for him to expect you to come back even later? you focus on the stains on his clothes instead, and the rolling pin that seems so out of place in his hand. “what exactly are you doing?”

“nothing! well, nothing much. yet. maybe you should stay out of here for a while.”

one thing about seungcheol is that he never keeps secrets. he can’t tell you a white lie to save his life, much less a black lie. “cheol,” you say, frowning, “both of us know you don’t even cook. are you baking? and why’s there flour in your hair?”

“sieving accident,” he mumbles, so quiet that you almost don’t catch it.

“should i be afraid?” you ask, pinching the bridge of your nose. you feel like your tears are a short distance away, and you really, really hope he’s done nothing more. something tells you that isn’t it, however.

“not really!” says seungcheol, but you can read him like glass at this point. the little nervous laugh and the way his nose twitches when he tries spinning facts makes you dread what you’re going to find inside. “maybe you should have a nice bath before you sleep? did you have dinner yet?”

you try to move past him into the kitchen but he blocks the entrance with his broad frame. the one time this isn’t sexy.

“cheol, let me in.”

“not until you tell me the password.”

“there’s a password now? what, something like choi seungcheol is the best?”

he giggles. “close.”

you sigh. “cheol, i’m really not in the mood to play games right now. please tell me what’s going on in there?”

he tries pulling that face, the one with the puppy eyes, where he looks at you so pleadingly that you’re generally ready to fold and do whatever he asks of you, but right now it just doesn’t work on you. the more evasive he is, the more worried you get. before he can react, you duck under his outstretched arms and into the kitchen.

rather, into the mess he’s made of the kitchen.

you’ve heard stories about junhui trying to bake. they sounded absolutely hilarious, and you’ve always wondered how he could mess up so bad that he managed to land waffle batter on the ceiling. especially when he didn’t even own a ladder to try and clean it.

it’s not funny when it’s your house that has some batter on the walls. at least it’s not the ceiling, you think, a bit hysterical, until you see flour on the…everywhere. it’s just everywhere. the counter, near the sink, in front of the oven like it’s a modern day trail of breadcrumbs that hansel and gretel would’ve followed. there’s also baking supplies scattered all over, an extremely huge sheet of baking paper lining a tray that’s sitting next to a bunch of bowls.

it’s a mess, to say the least.

“i’m sorry,” seungcheol says, gently turning you away from the sight of it. he winces when he sees your face. you don’t even know what your face looks like. all you know is that you’re tired, that you need a break, and that the last thing you would have liked to see today was your boyfriend’s face while he was peacefully asleep, and not…this.

you shake your head but no words come out.

“i’m sorry,” seungcheol repeats, setting the rolling pin down on the counter. a comical little cloud of flour rises and settles. what kind of accident even was that? “i was just…trying to bake.”

“cheol, you didn’t even know why we use baking soda till last week!”

“hey!” he says, defensive. “i asked you so i could learn. and i know this isn’t great, but—” his words dry up when he notices where your gaze lies — on the batch of cookies that are burned beyond belief.

you can’t believe your eyes, either. you’re not the biggest baker in the world, but you’ve never burned anything you’ve baked. especially not in your first attempt. maybe you’d have given up the courage to bake again if that had happened, but seungcheol clearly isn’t that bothered by it.

you don’t know if it’s because of how pitiful they look, or how long your day has been, but you feel a lump rise in your throat.

“you never even do this,” you whisper, only focusing on his face and not the mess around you. “why did you think you had to do this today?”

“am i not allowed to try things if i want to?” he asks, crossing his arms.

“it’s not that, cheol,” you say, trying to be as reasonable as possible. “i’d ask you for some help before trying something i’ve never done before. you never, ever do this. only when i ask you to help me. why today?”

“because i wanted to,” he says, almost flippant. “i’ll clean it up before you know it.”

but it’s not about the mess. it’s not about the burnt cookies. it’s not about the way he tried to block you from seeing the state of the kitchen. it’s the finality in his tone. it’s the fact that it’s not a big deal to him because he hasn’t had the day you’ve had.

seungcheol’s eyes widen when he sees your lips tremble. “are you seriously mad at me? for baking?”

“do whatever you want,” you hiss, tired and angry, feeling a single tear slide down your cheek. “i shouldn’t have looked inside.” you turn to walk away before it becomes a full fledged cascade of tears, but you don’t go far because of the hand holding on to your wrist.

“stop,” he says, holding you strong enough that it becomes futile to try and escape.

“let me go, seungcheol,” you say, avoiding his face.

“oh, no,” he breathes out, and the next thing you know is that your face is cradled in his hands and there’s a warm kiss pressed to your forehead. and your nose. and your lips. and it keeps repeating till you push him away, your face in his hands. you can feel the ugly emotions inside you ebbing away slowly, reducing to small embers that prickle the slightest bit.

“what are you doing?” you ask weakly.

“you said do whatever i want, right?” he asks, a smile on his face.

that gets you to break, for some reason. you would’ve forgiven him even if he’d gotten batter on the ceiling, because this — the sight of seungcheol with flour in his otherwise perfect hair, wearing an old shirt and beaming at you even though you’ve snapped at him — kills even those small embers.

you press your face to his chest and let the tears out silently.

seungcheol rubs your back. “hey,” he says softly. “let it out, okay? and i’m sorry about the mess. i meant it when i said i’ll clean—”

“it’s not that,” you whisper. “just…hold me?”

seungcheol complies, and you find yourself swaying in his hold in the silence of your house.

“want to talk to me about it?” he offers when you pull away, feeling slightly better. “i’m—”

“stop apologizing to me, cheol,” you say, laughing a little wetly. “it’s not the kitchen. i’ve just…i’ve been missing you like crazy and i miss just being with you without doing anything. i hate coming home late and seeing you asleep by yourself in our bed. i want…i want things to go back to the way they were.”

“so, a bad week?”

“more than one.”

“but you have me here at the end of every single day, right?” seungcheol says, pushing up the corners of your lips to make you smile. you do smile, but it’s because of the cute grin he has on his face. “we’ll get through it before you know it.”

you sigh. “it sounds good when you say it like that.”

“because i mean it. also, one more thing.”

“yeah?”

“please don’t ever call me by my whole name again.”

“only if you mess up the kitchen that bad again.”

“hey!”

“also, why were you baking in the first place?”

“because i wanted to cheer you up,” he says, sheepish, and you want to do nothing more than hold his face and kiss him silly.

“you’re an idiot, baby,” you say, cradling his face in your hands. “but you’re my idiot. and i love you.”

seungcheol’s blushing face is quite possibly enough to get you through tomorrow.

taglist: @bookyeom @wootify @strnsvt @cloudycaramel @thepoopdokyeomtouched @minnieminshi @nonononranghaee @hrts4hanniehae @viewvuu

[ssprouttz]

A quickie for Yasammy week Day 6: Baking!!

I had like 0 ideas for this so I just drew the aftermath of baking

And the cause of the flour being everywhere

@yasammyweek

[biweekly-metamy]

57. baking

[roguelov]

As my youngest sister baked cookies last night, I got inspired to come up with this: Imagine cooking and baking various foods for Dream, who is baffled by this because he doesn't need food to survive despite getting hungry. You insist on him trying your food anyway because you put so much effort into making it. So he does.

That sounds so lovely! I love baking (aka I’m good at following recipes 😂) but oh my god this would be absolutely adorable and cute

“You didn’t have to do this,” Dream stated.

His eyes swept over the mess of the kitchen: flour and sugar dusted the counter tops, a sink full of dirty dishes, and dots of icing speckled on the wall from a runaway mixer. He glanced over to you, and you were no better. Flour coated the front of an old shirt and a bit of icing was smudged on your cheek. He sighed, and walked over. He gently grabbed your chin, wiping away the icing.

You, however, just continued to smile at him. “I wanted to, and I had the ingredients so might as well.”

“I don’t need -“

“Sure, you don’t need food, but it doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy it,” you cut him off.

Dream blinked. His hand returned to his side. He wasn’t sure what to say.

You grabbed his wrist and dragged him over to the freshly baked goods. “Come on, one bite won’t hurt you,” you teased.

He looked to the steaming baked goods then back to you. Your eyes sparkled with hope and giddiness. He sighed, smiling softly. “Of course I will have one, especially if you made them for me.”

[miaoqing]

binghe is literally just whiny, dramatic, and lazy. like. the abyss is a BREEZE compared to going grocery shopping

[breaking-thechains]

Jeff! How’s it going, buddy?

Your friend,

David :)

DAVID—

daaaavviiiddd :)

It's going great! Just ... uhm ... making donuts (?)

[newtness532]

i love baking but god do i hate having to clean up afterwards

[picory]

made gnocchi with spicy tomato sauce and cheese sprinkled on top and it's delicious. thanks to the person who reminded me of it. italians win today 🇮🇹 🔥

[nicco-ck]

He's just a little guy who bakes in all his free time <33

[kakusu-shipping]

I absolutely adore your ruby gloom s/i and her entire gender shes so cute oh my god tell me about them PLEASEEEEEEEEEEE I know you already said it was inspiration but she reminds me SO much of the mummy girl from The scooby doo ghoul school and i LOVED THAT MOVIE SO MUCH AS A KID i just gotta know all about this s/i off design alone

She is like a PEAK little girl gender to me, it's what younger me would have wanted.

Now I don't know if you've actually SEEN Ruby Gloom but it is THE Baby Goth/Emo/Scene show. As in it is a show about and for Baby Goth, Emo, and Scene kids. There are hijinks and shenanigans and mild dark humor and usually no moral at the end of the episode.

She's a mummy, probably. The show is about like Monster Kids but what they are and where they come from never comes up. There is no plot, just kids being friends.

I imagine she can't talk with all the bandaging, and this show isn't the type to bust out actual sign language, so she just mimes and charades her way through conversations, like Doom Kitty. And like Doom, it has varying results. Skull Boy and Ruby can usually figure her out and Misery has a knack for charades and basically always knows what she's saying, but Iris can basically never figure it out, and Frank and Len and Poe all just Assume they know until someone else corrects them.

Sense she can't talk, and her bandages cushion her steps, she tends to accidentally sneak up on people and startle them, mostly Scardy Bat. There's an episode in my head where she keeps startling him, so he puts a bell on her so he can hear when she's coming.. and then she drops the bell somewhere and doesn't notice until it's completely unraveled her, and no one recognizes her unwrapped, so her and Scardy Bat have to backtrack the entire mansion together, avoiding getting seen by anyone else, to find where her bandage trail starts to rewrap her.

She's a lot stronger than most anyone else in the mansion, and can pick up and carry pretty much everyone with ease. Sense Skull Boy's commonly precariously up high and Iris is always seeking wild thrills, this strength is mostly used in catching those two specifically when they fall, though sometimes Poe ropes her into doing hard work for him.

I self ship with Skull Boy with her but they're probably not actually dating in current canon. He, She, and Ruby are in this Love Triangle situation where they all three have a crush on one another, and they're also all like 8-10 so navigating romantic feelings is really hard. So they're all still friends, and will probably stay that way till they're all a bit older.

[wisismydumpstat]

I decided to try and make naan bread today.

I had to make dough. I had never made dough before.

The process is going... interestingly.

(I'll count it as a success if it doesn't start breathing and screaming in pain)

[the-gayest-sky-kid]

in a menliker mood nobody look at me

[ritualis]

y ou

ar e

n o t

her e

s o

w hy

d o

i

h ope