#haggis was AMAZING!!

[happyheidi]

Scotland photodump pt 1

[delcat177]

Happy Solstice, all! Here's a lil man

And a lil lady, who was trying very hard to Help with a macro shot of the first Christmas cactus to open. Opening on Solstice feels good, I think--this plant is generations old at this point, and it's nice to see the first dancer on it as the cold draws in.

She loves her throne ❤️

Cal and Bug wish you the happiest long night! May all that is lost be found for you this season. Mine was my copy of Ultra Moon, which has apparently been in the couch cushions for the half year I've been searching for it. Magical!

[hunterrrs]

photos from here, I NEED FOOTAGE OF THIS. also this article is a great read. he’s invited some families who lost their homes in the halifax fires to practice:

By the time you read this, Pittsburgh Penguins players will have munched on the pudding known as haggis, made from the livers, hearts and lungs of sheep. And learned how to shuck oysters, in all their slimy, gooey glory.

All courtesy of Sidney Crosby, the Pittsburgh captain, who brought team building to an entirely new level on Saturday. From the moment months ago that he learned the Penguins would be playing here, Crosby was stoked. A proud native of Cole Harbour, 10 miles from Halifax, the 36-year-old began planning out his transformation from NHL star to tour guide.

“I think just the feel of it, the people, and to see the excitement for the game,” Crosby said Friday. “And just to get around the city a little bit, those types of things.

“It’s somewhere that I’m really proud of, and I hope everyone enjoys themselves there.”

In order to do that, he set something up with a unique Maritime flavor. Welcome to “The Amazing Race: Crosby Edition.”

“When Sidney found out the team was coming here, he wanted to find a fun way to celebrate his hometown with his teammates and educate them on why it’s such a special place,” his father, Troy, said.

He seems to have done exactly that.

After a morning of golf Saturday, the unsuspecting Penguins set out on an “Amazing Race”-like scavenger-hunt competition that would take them through the streets of Cole Harbour, Dartmouth and downtown Halifax, and across Halifax Harbour on a ferry.

Under the format, the players were divided into teams. They were given instructions of where to go, what venues to visit and what tasks they were to do (e.g., eating haggis, shucking oysters), all while going up against the clock.

The instructions came on laminated cards featuring the Penguins logo and a “Welcome to Cole Harbour” greeting.

The message on one of the cards read, “Every player has to shuck two oysters and eat them or have a teammate eat them on their behalf. Careful with that knife, and don’t break any shells!”

Crosby enlisted the help of Paul Mason, one of his baseball and minor hockey coaches, to help plan the event. Mason was paramount in setting up the three Cole Harbour Stanley Cup celebrations in Crosby’s honor, and No. 87 didn’t hesitate when it came to the perfect person to set up this event.

“In organizing this, when he talked to me about it, he wants this entire weekend to be pretty special for the community, for his teammates, for everyone around him,” Mason said. “You can sense how much these few days mean to him. You could sense his anticipation for months.”

Mason said that even though Crosby is the host for his teammates this weekend, he’s going to try to win everything: golf, the scavenger hunt, the preseason game Monday, you name it.

“He’s competitive at everything, even as a little kid when I was coaching him,” Mason said. “And that hasn’t changed.

“When the NHL was shut down during COVID, his dad Troy and I played Sidney and one of his friends in a golf match. They should have won, but somehow we did. He didn’t accept that. He said it was two out of three. When we won the second one he said it was three out of five. We ended up playing seven of them. The seventh one was in December with snow on the ground. They won that one to take the series 4-3. Suddenly that was acceptable because they’d won.

“Once they’d finally won, it was over,” Mason said with a laugh.

During some of those summers, Greenwood has helped organize some of the offseason skates featuring Crosby, MacKinnon and Marchand at a local arena. The competitiveness gets intense at times, something Greenwood said helps all three drive each other.

“Yeah, they’re friends,” he said. “But when they start playing against each other at times, you’d never know it. They want to beat one another at any and all costs.

“You can see how that drive, that determination, that win-at-all-costs attitude rubs off on some of the younger guys.”

Count Drake Batherson as one of them. The 25-year-old Senators forward grew up in New Minas, 50 miles northwest of Halifax, and has been training during the offseason with Crosby, Marchand and MacKinnon since 2019. He calls those workouts “one of my favorite times of the year.”

As such, he’s looking forward to facing Crosby and the Penguins in Halifax on Monday.

“I've still got posters of the Penguins and Sid on my wall at my parents' house, so it's pretty fun now that me and Sid have built a relationship and we're buddies," Batherson said. "It's pretty cool looking back on it.”

It was a tough spring and summer for Nova Scotia.

In late May and early June, wildfires raged through the outskirts of Halifax and throughout the province. More than 16,000 people were forced to evacuate as a result, many eventually returning to find their homes were nothing more than heaps of smoldering ashes.

Less than two months later, the area was hit with record rainfall that caused historic flooding. Water did seep into Crosby’s home, though to nowhere near the extent of some others where people pretty much lost everything.

“The area has been through a lot,” he said. “But the great thing about some of these communities, and the area in general, is that everyone sticks together and everyone’s willing to help each other.

“I think when you’ve seen adverse times here over the years, you’ve seen people come together more and more. And I think we take a lot of pride in that here. The fact that people know they can depend on each other is huge. I think we’ve shown that time and time again, and there’s pride that comes with that.”

Crosby is doing his part to teach local kids exactly that.

On Sunday, the Penguins will hold a practice at Cole Harbour Place. Hundreds of children from the local minor hockey systems have been invited to attend and take part in a Q&A session with some Pittsburgh players and, with a select few kids getting to go on the ice with them.

Part of that group will be kids from minor hockey whose families lost their homes in the fires. Crosby specifically wanted them to attend, with Mason helping to make it happen. Given the trauma they and their families have gone through, it is Crosby’s way of trying to brighten up their lives, even if it’s just for one afternoon.

“That’s Sid, right?” Greenwood said. “He’s going to have an impact on these kids, both on the ice and off.”

He already has.

In 2009, Crosby established the Sidney Crosby Foundation, an organization that improves the lives of children who are sick or struggling. More recently, Crosby and several foundation board members created Nova Scotia Showdown T-shirts heading into the game Monday, with proceeds going to his foundation.

“He’s helping young kids who are going through hard times, and he’s being a role model for young hockey players in the province,” Mason said. “He’s going out of his way to show his Penguins a good time here, and he’s being a great ambassador for the community.”

Greenwood agrees.

“It’s a privilege,” he said, “to say you live in the same place as someone like that.”

[brewed-pangolin]

Captain Master Chef

OG Captain MacTavish x Fem Reader

18+ MDNI Sexual Themes

Captain Soap MacTavish is, contrary to popular belief, an absolutely amazing cook.

His mastery at the savory side of the culinary world is unlike anything you've ever experienced. For example, his take on Beef Wellington is bar none better than your mothers (you'll never tell her) and you'd be lying if you didn't fall head over heels in love with him the moment you took the first bite of his Haggis.

Even as he expands his cooking repertoire into more unfamiliar horizons, you're never left unsatisfied or turning up your nose to anything he manages to put on a plate.

--

"Oh my God, honey. This is delicious."

You praise with a quiet moan. Taste buds blissfully overwhelmed with the succulent flavor of rice, muscles, and saffron as the remaining accents of his newly mastered Paella dance their melody along the length of your tongue.

"Hm. Thank you, love. Quite proud of me self if I'm bein' honest."

You take another bite, eyes rolling back as the taste of the perfectly crusted and savory socarrat hits your tongue like an aromatic tsunami.

Your eyes linger on him, casting him a doey eyed stare that the Captain returns with his own distinctively confident gaze. Silence falling over you both as you take your time enjoying each other's company and savoring the masterful delicacy he so elegantly created.

Reluctantly, your eyes begin to shift. Turning towards the kitchen as you take in the absolute disaster that sits atop your granite counter tops and stove.

A quiet sigh escapes your lips, returning your gaze back to your Captain lover as he wipes his mouth with a flavor filled napkin.

"John, I love you. But goddamn, do you need to learn how to clean while you cook."

"What? It's not that bad, love."

"Not that bad? My kitchen's a disaster, John!"

Soap takes a long glance at the kitchen, surveying the damage before shifting his eyes up to the ceiling.

"Least there's no'a lobster on th'ceiling."

"Nothing will ever beat the lobster, John. That was truly a legendary experience."

"Yer mother didnae think so."

"Yeah. Because you threw the lobster at her!"

"The fuckin' thing pinched me!"

You exhaled an amused sigh, shaking your head with a smile that only he could pull to your lips.

"Thank God she had the pan in her hand, or I feel you'd have been excommunicated from any further family gatherings."

"Aye. Yer mother's got quite the swing, love. Better for me to stay on her good side, yeah?"

"I'd highly recommend so, John."

You gently scrape the last morsel into your mouth with an enamored and muffle moan. Wiping the corners of your lips as you take in one last look at the monstrosity that waits before you.

"Alright, honey. This mess isn't going to clean itself."

"No, it ain't, love. But I was cravin' a bit'a dessert before tacklin' that."

Your eyes narrow, brows knitting together while you shift your gaze over the counter tops for a sign of this hidden last course.

"What dessert? I don't see anything."

"M'lookin at it, sweetheart."

You pause. Rolling your eyes under heavy lids, you're met with the icy blue confidence within his stare that never seems to not have an amorous effect on you. Shifting in your seat to quell the ache already beginning to throb deep within your core.

"John MacTavish. You sneaky little bastard."

"Aye. I am. Now bring that sweet ass over here, lass. Yer Captain wants ta taste ya."

Your body then moved on its own accord. Easily snared into his hungry gaze and rolling timbre like a moth to a flame. The languid come hither of his fingers making your legs weak and breath quicken as you slowly sauntered over to your illustrious Captain.

The kitchen remained untouched the remainder of the night. Left in a culinary mess and disarray as Soap MacTavish feasted on your sweet nectar and filled the need to have your silken walls wrapped around his stiffened cock.

The dishes could wait. Your Captain would not. And you'd be daft if you ever denied Soap MacTavish what he wanted when you treated him so graciously to a feast that only you could provide.

Captain MacTavish Masterlist

@deadbranch @sofasoap @d3athtr4psworld @glitterypirateduck @homicidal-slvt @astraluminaaa @shotmrmiller @obligatoryghoststare @mykneeshurt @jynxmirage @writeforfandoms @simpingoverquestionablemen @thetrashpossum @haurasha @luismickydees @kkaaaagt

[jonathanarcher]

Drama ensues on Voyager when Tom Paris enthusiastically recommends the movie Crash, calling it “the most amazing thing he’s ever seen”. Neelix, Tuvok, and Seven bond over how insane they think human mating rituals are. B’Elanna wonders if this is Tom telling her he wants to try something new in their relationship. Chakotay, known for crashing shuttles, thinks this is some coded message for him that he does NOT appreciate. Harry watches over the chaos with a shit eating grin, knowing that the movie that Tom actually watched was Crash (2004) dir. Paul Haggis.

[saltofmercury]

Perception

Pairing: John "Soap" MacTavish x reader

A/N: I hope I did this some justice!!! Brown eyes are amazing ����🏻

"Perception"

“You gon’ miss me when I’m gone, hen?”

Leaning against the kitchen counter, one arm propping him up as he drank chocolate milk, Johnny eyed you in your living room organizing books. Sitting on the floor, legs criss crossed, as you continued to toy with a color scheme for your books. You peeped your head back and rolled your eyes.

You scoffed, 

“Yeah who’s going to kill the spiders?”

You were in no mood to talk. The little back and forth chase between Johnny and yourself had been happening for over 3 months. What you had planned to be a one night stand, ended up unraveling as multiple occurrences, multiple meetups between you two. It seemed as though the universe had different plans for you.

You had long forgotten about him. (Not really) Johnny had lingered by your door holding on your chin with his massive hand, towering over you, kissing you repeatedly.

“Thanks bonnie, fucks sake you’re really something else.” Lingering on your lips until 4AM.

With that he had disappeared.

A week after your hookup you had gone into a coffee shop to indulge in their chocolate chip cookies. Sure enough, Johnny was there having a cup of tea, mouth full of a dry scone. He peered right at you as you had paid, motioning you to come sit.

“Fancy seein’ you here. Are you stalking me? Was our night that good?” He smirked, towering over you.

“You’re in my country Johnny,” you said, rolling your eyes. The audacity of this man. He should’ve been gone by now. 

“Good seeing you!” You grabbed the cookie you came for and walked out. 

The second instance he had been filling his gas tank in the jeep he drove. 

Your machine didn’t take Apple Pay, so you walked into the store to pay. After walking out, Johnny was there, already closing the fuel cap letting out a whistle as he eyed you up and down.

“Swear we got to stop meeting up like this, pet”

Your back radiated goosebumps. Just how small was this fucking city that you couldn’t hide from your one night stand?

“We’re not meeting up, I’m getting gas.” You turned your back and you loaded the gas in your car. 

He laughed at you. “Aye, so am I”

“I’ll see you soon then?” he hopped in his car and drove away. 

You finished getting gas and then hopped in your car. A candy wrapper had been placed on your windshield. You got out again and noticed it said “Johnny xxx-xxx-xxxx”

You scoffed again. Was he toying with you? The man was a persistent flirt if anything. You tucked the phone number away in your jacket pocket. If he wanted to fuck you so badly it would be on your terms.

How great that turned out.

Johnny practically made himself at home, visiting you Friday night and Sunday nights. “Ending the week with an orgasm and starting the week with one” — was the stupidity he told you.

Then it became “let’s make Haggis, treat you to a real Scottish meal.”

The national dish of Scotland that you had immediately regretted putting in your mouth. You suggested cooking a “proper meal” for him next time. 

“Wha’ you gon make me a hamburger hen?” He pushed you slightly, making you blush.

“Fuck off I’m not a hamburger person”

“Aye and I love hotdogs very delicious” he continued to tease you. He never once saw you cook.

When you made him a pot roast, it ensured having him around all the time. He made small jokes about keeping you around and possibly marrying you. 

“Need me a hen that can cook”

He saw how it made you blush and how it also infuriated you when he said things like that. Another way he loved getting under your skin.

Now you are here.

You were going back to the sadness, bitterness, and loneliness that haunted you at night. 

Part of you wanted to speak up, tell him that you at least wanted communication when he left, but knowing him, he would dismiss your idea and talk about something else.

He spoke again from the kitchen,

“God… I think I’ll miss the milk here.”

You peered up from the book you were trying to place and spoke up. Defeated, you gave in.

“That’s all you’re going to miss?”

Johnny heard it in your voice. The small crack that emitted at the end. Your back was still turned and you focused on biting the edges of your tongue to not let the tears fall down your face. 

He didn’t want to be honest and scare you away, so he said something else. 

“And maybe your Sunday roast…”

You quietly excused yourself to the bathroom. “Hah, I’m going to have a shower.” Maybe the heat of the water would hurt you more than what he just said.

Neither of you brought it up again after that. Johnny apologized to you later that night, in only physical form, making you moan and shake in bliss. He kept the light on to watch your face release the tension from earlier.

“Watch me, pet. Look at me, I'm here.”

You made eye contact with him, brows furrowed as he was inside you. He looked at your eyes. Brown and spellbinding. He had always gone for the blue eyes, icy snowflakes that blinded him. However he noticed your brown eyes—loved that he was so hypnotized by them. Hues that brought him comfort and a place to be at home. God, how he would miss them, pacifying him and the simplicity of them, that made him feel so comforted and loved. He drowned himself in your eyes every morning, and swallowed them in his heart every night.

Two days later “Johnny” became “Soap” and went off in Asia to track down someone.

On the mission as they debriefed their next execution, Gaz, Ghost, and Price sat around a campfire. Once the team had a sure plan, they got sidetracked and began to talk about plans after this mission.

“Got any plans, Soap? You’re always traveling around the world.”

“Aye, might go to the states again,”

“Which American got you this time, MacTavish?”

Soap kicked the dirt beneath him and laughed heartily. 

“Aye Gaz, you know me too well.”

He hit the dirt with the toe of his boot and placed his hands on his tactical vest.

“Should’ve been a one night stand, but man those eyes kept popping out everywhere.”

Gaz looked at him, attempting not to laugh. Every woman or man Soap met, he fell in love with. It was hard to take him seriously.

“Let me guess blue?”

“Not at all mate, it was kind of like Simon’s eyes”

“You mean Ghost?”

“Aye you ever had a haver with Ghost and see his eyes?”

“They’re brown”

“You don’ get it mate.”

Soap was frustrated. How could he describe your eyes that brought him comfort and warmth? It brought mellowness to him and welcomed him home. 

Reminded him of the chocolate ice cream he shared with you one afternoon and how the bright shirt you wore made them pop out like the caramel candies he sucked on as a kid.

They reminded him of the sugary goodness he drank at your apartment while watching you do mundane things.

He would marvel at them when he told you to look at him as he thrust himself inside you. The sun speckled on your face as it heightened flecks of gold honey-amber, and brown swirling inside them. That’s what made him gush, that’s what made him come back and stay.

How simple your eyes were but consoled him and brought solace.

They would also bring fear to him when he took a joke too far and they would turn russet or deep brown, hiding your pupil.

“Aye…lass it’s a joke.” 

The intimidation coming out in his voice. But how hungry he felt to come closer to you in such a vicious and wild state. He loved when they turned almost obsidian, you on top of him holding on and crying his name out.

He mentally cursed himself for giving you space in his head. The danger he could put himself in — distracted by you. He knew he had to end it. Fuck being this lovesick over someone in another country. He finished his mission, deployed back to his country.

*

A month had passed since the mission.

Plowing through the countryside, he spotted an oak tree. Its branches were wild and open. It held some leaves on its branches, but grew unruly high in the air. The brown trunk, the earth surrounding it, all different shades of brown, all emotions parallel from your eyes.

He rested by it. He missed you a lot today. 

He missed waking up before you, drinking your chocolate milk while prepping your “bean water” coffee. 

He missed coming to your bed, placing the coffee by your nightstand, climbing on top of you, legs on either side of you as he watched as you slowly woke up to the aroma of the coffee.

He laughed because, the sun couldn’t wake you, him watching a tv in the room couldn’t wake you, but the scent of coffee could drag you out of unconsciousness. 

“Aye, so that’s what drags you away from death?”

You sat up, as he shifted back a little, still on top of you. Watched you drink your coffee and your eyes lighting up from the rays of the sun. A velvet shade of amber, lighting up your face, and making Johnny mesmerized.  

He mumbled and thought to himself,

“That’s my kind of heaven right there.”

“What?”

“Coffee’s real heaven aye?”

He came back to the city, heading into a coffee shop, ordering a scone that wasn’t as dry as the coffee shop by your apartment.

He trudged home, watching and hoping the Earth beneath him attempted to swallow him whole. The guilt of leaving you. The sorrow that filled his stomach. When he arrived home, it didn’t feel like home. Your eyes weren't there to greet him.

*

He said he would be back within two months. Four months have passed. After the third month you continued your life without him. Your tears dried up, your bathroom no longer had his hair around. His milk carton is spoiling in the fridge, his socks with hamburgers on it are still in your drawer, along with the blue hoodie he left you that night.

Those are the only things that you hold onto. A stone in your stomach settles knowing he’s not coming back.

You wouldn’t know how to reach him anyway. 

You wake up thinking how easy it was with him here. How much fun you had, getting a glimpse of domesticity with him. How you folded laundry with him, made dinners together, made love with the lights on because he loved seeing you unfold and watching your eyes disappear to a deep chocolate brown from euphoria.

Now you’re sitting in your apartment sorting the books you sorted four months ago, turning back every ten minutes hoping to see him raiding your fridge for the chocolate syrup.

Instead, a knock at the door—

You get up and open it.

Johnnys standing there, white, pink, and orange flowers in hand. 

“Got dropped off in the wrong country, pet.”

He’s standing there in front of you, smirk on his face. He’s not telling you he almost ran away from you.

He hands out the flowers to you, you’re in disbelief. 

You study him wordless, trying to get your brain to connect to your tongue.

He jumps back into your apartment, searching through your cabinets and fridge.

“You don’t have milk, aye…but you’ve got my syrup.” He clutches the bottle in the air.

You sigh out, “...yeah”

He looks at you, he sees the bewilderment on your face. He grabs your face and peppers kisses all over it before prying your mouth open with his, indulging in your tongue. He holds your face in between his hands, the lights in your apartment didn’t do your eyes justice.

“Over a hundred days without you, pet.”

“One hundred and twenty…” you breathe out.

He came back. He actually came back.

He’s got on a chain, a blue topaz stone hanging down and a darker yellow topaz right next to it.

When you ask him about it, he shrugs, says it so casually,

“I couldn’t find a gem dark enough for your eyes, but er–”

He holds the two gems in his fingers, shifting in his brain all the images he’s saved of your eyes.

“Just reminds me of us.”

[nqueso-emergency]

I know you're nqueso-emergency you haggy racismt cunt! You wish u were half the amazing journalist Whitney is, BESTIE BOO BITCH

I know your ip address and it has ben sent to the properly authorities!

Soon youll be MIA like you're messiah Lou

Yes... I am nqueso-emergency... ???

I'm...

[jamisonwritestf2trash]

How good are the ft2 mercs at baking and cooking respectively

TF2 Mercs Cooking And Baking Skills!

————————————————————

Oh boy, you've asked a guy who loves to cook a bake, prepare for a ramble.

Moot appreciation: Thank you for your asks! I've had fun with the prompts you've sent it. Also, I love your blog!

Also, oops, a little Spy angst fell in, who would have guessed.

————————————————————

Demo- I'm gonna go out on a limb and say most people think he can't cook. Wrong! He can cook. Just uh, unique dishes. This man has made haggis for the other mercs, Scout whole heartedly thought Demo was trying to kill them. (Little off topic but, did you guys know deep-fried Mars bars are a Scottish thing)? But in general he can cook, and cook well, it just depends on if what he's cooking is something your willing to try.

I don't think this man can bake, but that won't stop him from trying! He tries to learn, but always gets frustrated when things don't work. Like the cupcakes have been in the oven for well over two hours and are still not cooked? This man is pissed. But what he lacks in an ability to bake, he makes up for by being amazing at decorating cakes and cupcakes somehow? Like he can't bake a cupcake to save his life, but you bet your ass he can turn it into one of the prettiest things with a bag of frosting and sprinkles.

————————————————————

Engie- This man is so good at cooking its not even funny. Like the he cooks for everyone one night and everyone begs him to cook at least once a month. Sure, is it the healthiest food? Not really. But it is good food! And for the mercs that's all they really care about some days.

I'm gonna be honest, he'd be a really good baker, but has never had any desire to. Never felt the need to. He'd rather just buy whatever he wants or needs. He can, however be convinced to bake, but even then he's indifferent to it. He thinks it's a fine enough hobby but would never find enthralled with it. Is always very proud of his work in either cooking or baking though!

————————————————————

Heavy- He can cook! And really likes to do it too. He loves making traditional Russian food. Loves being able to share his culture through something so simple. Likes making anything really. Finds cooking to be relaxing. As long as he can be left alone while doing so.

He can bake too, he just choses not to. It's very precise, one wrong measurement and it's all going to hell. He'd love to bake, but at the end of the day I think it would stress him out more than it would calm him down, or more than it would be worth it for the final product.

————————————————————

Medic- This is such a toss up for me. I want to say he can cook, and cook well. But the other part of me thinks that he'd be way too giddy to use cooking the team dinner to run a test or two. (What am I talking about he put fertility hormones in someone's rations, he'd take any chance to do it (lovingly)! To the other mercs). I guess I'll say he can cook, but be weary of what he's feeding you at any given time. Also I think if he's not in a testing mood he gets all happy at the idea of cooking traditional food as well.

Due to the fact that, may or may not be up to no good when cooking! The mercs are not super keen on letting him into the kitchen. But if Medic manages to convince (threaten) them into trusting him enough to bake, he's insanely good at it! Baking is a science, and he's incredibly good at getting measurements to be perfect. Plus even if he's not using baking or cooking as an excuse to run some tests on his teammates, it's still an experiment in it's own right. So he genuinely enjoys baking and cooking.

————————————————————

Scout- You really think his mom would let him leave the house without knowing to cook? Sure, he's probably his mom's favorite, and the youngest child, so you'd think he'd be spoiled, but nope! His mom taught him from a young age the importance of having cooking as a skill, and now he loves it. He cooks when he's homesick, it reminds him of his mom, he looks at it as a connection with one another.

Same thing with baking, but I think he likes baking a bit more than cooking due to the presence of a shit ton of sugar. You'd also think this man would be chill in the kitchen. Absolutely not. He hates having other people in the kitchen when he's busy. He finds them to be distracting. Also, he's super cautious when people ask to try what he's baking specifically. He doesn't want someone to get E. Coli, because of the raw flour in the raw cookie dough. All in all, though, when he's alone (or with Pyro if they decide to join Scout). Then he's genuinely enjoying both baking and cooking.

————————————————————

Sniper- Mr. Runs off instant ramen and fairy bread. Has the basic skills. He could make rice, grilled cheese, and fried eggs if need be. But for the most part, he can't cook. He has a stove in his van, and it has never been used other than to boil water. He could learn how to cook if he was really persuaded by a certain team member, but it would take a lot, and it would take a long time to learn how to cook a decent meal.

————————————————————

Spy- Can cook, he has before. It was a life skill just like any other. I got pretty good at it. He can still make decently elaborate dishes, but he's not a fan of it. He doesn't really like cooking. He never had anyone to share his food with. He always wanted someone to share food with, someone to cook with. Was always too scared for said person to actually stick around, said person couldn't stick around.

He's never tried to bake, and I don't think he'd enjoy it. He'd complain about how messy it is. He'd be fine with the having to be careful and precise part. Hell He'd even be good at decorating and just baking in general. But he just wouldn't like doing it.

————————————————————

Soldier- This man can't so much as cook as he can grill. It's super weird, he'll make the most normal american food and it's like really good? Like he'll make steaks, hamburgers, and hot dogs for a 4th of July party and it's the best shit you've ever had. Ask this man to fry an egg and all hell breaks loose. He is only allowed to man the grill from now on.

Do not ask this man to bake, please, please don't. He cooks with cartoon logic. The recipe calls for three eggs? He drops in three fully-shelled eggs. A stick of butter? The wrapper is still on. And the scariest part is whatever he's baking always comes out looking, edible? Cartoonish? Like straight up looks like someone drew it into existence. For the sake of everyone's mental health, they don't let Soldier bake anymore.

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Pyro- Teach them how to flambé and they're going to have the best time of their lives. They aren't horrible at cooking but aren't a master chef either. They have tried to use their flamethrower to cook on multiple occasions, but they have been banned from being in the kitchen alone due to "inciting panic." Whatever that means. They mainly will cook with Engie, as he's the most patient when it comes to Pyro's "help." (Standing menacingly until they can be trusted to do something. They do it with love, though)!

Speaking of flambé! They love to try and convince the other mercs to let them make bananas Foster, and when they eventually wear the other mercs down and are allowed to try it, they do well! It was a one-time thing, they all got too scared to let them do it again. Now they spend a lot of time helping Scout while he bakes. Overall, they can cook and bake, but should only be allowed to under supervision.

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I hope you like this! Sorry it took me so long to write I've been exhausted all week. But it was fun to write :)

New fic tomorrow, someone asked about the mercs at Barbie, which is going to be so fun!

[intermittent-showers]

This shit is so fake??

-> why wasn't the anon answered directly??

-> if for whatever reason you didn't or couldn't answer directly, why didn't you screenshot the entire ask?

-> amazing this came out immediately after you all cried about Lou's comment.

-> (IF) whoever leaked that really exists and infiltrated a bucktommy gc I can guarantee the people who run the gc know it came from their gc. So, your insider just told on themselves 🤣😭🤭 Haggie it you??

[shaunashipman]

I know you're nqueso-emergency you haggy racismt cunt! You wish u were half the amazing journalist Whitney is, BESTIE BOO BITCH

I know your ip address and it has ben sent to the properly authorities!

Soon youll be MIA like you're messiah Lou

so are these typos intentional? like are you affecting the tone of a deranged 14 year old to a purpose? i gotta admit, i can't see how sounding so stupid somehow helps you in this. i mean, it annoys me that no one's getting creative here, but it's only a slightly higher annoyance than just receiving this in the first place. did you copypaste into the usual suspects' inboxes, or am i special today?

[perfectlysunny02]

I know you're nqueso-emergency you haggy racismt cunt! You wish u were half the amazing journalist Whitney is, BESTIE BOO BITCH

I know your ip address and it has ben sent to the properly authorities!

Soon youll be MIA like you're messiah Lou

are you having a stroke?

[welcometoact3]

I know you're nqueso-emergency you haggy racismt cunt! You wish u were half the amazing journalist Whitney is, BESTIE BOO BITCH

I know your ip address and it has ben sent to the properly authorities!

Soon youll be MIA like you're messiah Lou

So ya'll are just going around accusing everyone who likes Tommy? Well wrong again. Get a life. Buddie ain't happening.

[gothiccharmschool]

Haggis? DELICIOUS.

Eggs Benedict with haggis? AMAZING.

[rinwellisathing]

"Keep Away From Pumpkinhead unless you're tired 'a livin', his enemies are mostly dead, he's mean and unforgivin'" Just a little ramble about what went into my decisions for Sentry's slayer form design:

So to start us off, I am a horror nut. I'm not saying this with smug pride or judgment to other types of movies (it's not disdain for other genres, it's fully a consequence of how my autism works.), you would be hard pressed to get me to watch a movie I've never seen before that isn't a horror movie. I spent every year of my childhood obsessively waiting and planning for Halloween and reading occult books and ghost story anthologies I checked out from the library. My mother read Interview With A Vampire to me (leaving out certain parts) to me when I was a kid and my name was going to be Lestat if I had been born a cis male. All this to say, while I crafted or gamed growing up, I would tune into any horror movie the Sci-Fi channel was running and one October, they were showing the first Pumpkinhead movie. I adored it. The monster was cool, the witch was creepy and ominous, and the setting was fairly close to something I was relatively familiar with having been to the mountains in western PA a lot camping and visiting distant relatives. I rented the second movie and I caught the later ones when Fearnet was a thing briefly and ran them on their OnDemand service (and god fucking damn am I aging myself at this point.) And see, the thing is, I'm not gonna sit here and say they're great films, because there's a criteria I'm going by that I fully acknowledge most people just don't (It's creature effects. Pumpkinhead, Haggis, ghosts and victims...just great work all around). The scripts aren't amazing and a lot of times the acting can be very hokey (except Lance Henrikson, Admiral Hackett is really out there selling this series as Ed Harley, there are also a lot of other very enjoyable performances, but I won't pretend they're all amazing) but they're a fun watch especially if you love vengeance, folk horror, and creature features with a hint of the demonic.

So how does this relate to my Durge, his slayer form, et al? So like I said, the movies are about vengeance first and foremost. The conceit is, if someone does you wrong you can call on Pumpkinhead to get revenge. It's an unstoppable demon summoned from an unhallowed corpse (The third movie implies the corpse of the last person to summon him, but that's not really a consistent choice). The summoner sees through its eyes but doesn't really control it per se, Pumpkinhead only stops when vengeance is complete or the person who summoned it dies. As an Oath of Vengeance Paladin, this fit really well for Sentry. Throw in that Pumpkinhead already has a similar stance and shape to the basic default slayer minus the head shape and some extra limbs, and I started thinking, plotting really. So ideally, we assume The Dark Urge could use the Slayer form in the past before they were tadpoled, at least I do and I've certainly seen plenty of fanfiction and headcanons in my Durgetash groups that imply I'm not alone in that. In-game, you have to commit a massive act of terrible slaughter to gain the Slayer form, but really in the lore I've researched, being a Bhaalspawn can mean you just get it in general, it comes to you in dreams, it possesses you and takes you over. So since the game doesn't entirely adhere to that anyway, I thought what if Sentry's first foray as The Slayer was tied to vengeance?

In his backstory, he has a terrible, abusive childhood and eventually takes revenge by murdering the family he was adopted into and their fellow cultists and in my mind, this was the first time he was the slayer. With my own trauma, I love the idea as a power fantasy that a scared, badly abused twelve year old boy, still small, still weak, still being told he was a girl no matter what he said, might become something big and terrible and driven by vengeance. So throw in what BG3 and Forgotten Realms lore gives us, my love for horror, and the overarching theme of vengeance in Pumpkinhead, and this seemed like the perfect design idea for me to go with. On top of the base design, he is covered in red ropes tying the design always back to the church of Ilmater, where he was taught he could be better and that he was worthy of love and respect, and those ropes are torn and tattered on his form, like just barely hanging on, but they are there, and I think that reminds him that his quest for vengeance is all well and good, but that he does deserve more and there is more for him if he can resist. Anyway, sorry for the long autistic ramble. I just had a lot of thoughts about Sentry's slayer form today.

[salty-autistic-writer]

I know you're nqueso-emergency you haggy racismt cunt! You wish u were half the amazing journalist Whitney is, BESTIE BOO BITCH

I know your ip address and it has ben sent to the properly authorities!

Soon youll be MIA like you're messiah Lou

[secretagentboob]

I know you're nqueso-emergency you haggy racismt cunt! You wish u were half the amazing journalist Whitney is, BESTIE BOO BITCH

I know your ip address and it has ben sent to the properly authorities!

Soon youll be MIA like you're messiah Lou

Oh, so now I'm @nqueso-emergency bestie boo .

That makes absolutely no sense what so ever. We don't even talk alike.

Open your eyes to see that but no you guys are too wrapped up in Buddie going cannon that you have goggles on.

I highly doubt you have my IP address because you guys aren't even that smart.

But thank you for giving me a laugh the first moment that I wake up.

Ta-ta