#white chocolate mirror glaze | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wroteclassicaly · 1 year

Note

hope you had a good nap k <3 you did such a good job last time with eddie and steve painting reader's face and ruining her makeup. but tbh now i wanna ruin HIS makeup!! riding eddie's face and squirting all over him sounds like so much fun rn :(

OKAY, soooooo — this idea popped into my head almost immediately after I read your ask! I hope this is okay? It turned into something of my own weird muse, haha. We love dirty riding/messy time to ruin that boy, don’t we? All support for it in this household!

Summary: Eddie tries out a new look for a show. He wanted it to be intense, but that doesn’t even begin to cover it.

Warnings: Language, NSFW, oral sex, face riding, vaginal fingering, small p*ss kink (mentioned only), mirror play, handsy Eddie, hair pulling, and squirting.

A/N: This is unedited, so I’m sorry if it looks awful because of that. I wanted to get this out for the rest of y’all too, and I was inspired! The imagery I have of what I was picturing as Eddie’s look… fuuuuuck me 🤤

When your boyfriend of seven months stated that he had a surprise for you, what is currently standing in your eye-line is not the statement you’d expected. Corroded Coffin was playing a bar in Indianapolis tonight — their second gig there that actually accumulated a decent crowd. And Eddie had been right all along — a bigger, more Metropolitan city opened doorways to the metal scene, something a hick town in Indiana never could. He wanted to really fix up, make himself look as intense as possible. He’d been gone with Robin since early in the afternoon, only telling you he was getting his hair permed for the show and his nails painted.

It wasn’t unusual for him to get a manicure with Robin, the ladies in the salon used to Eddie and his eccentric fashions. Everyone heard about the metal scene, the punk fashion, but in Hawkins it wasn’t welcomed, especially after Eddie would leave the parlor and receive several stray insults from one hillbilly to the next. He didn’t mind it though, he got to wave his freshly done nails with a doubled down bird. His favorite wave.

You liked that he had formed a quick companionship with Robin, solidifying his place in the group (and your heart) not long after everything with Vecna.

You’re so completely lost in your thoughts, eyes glazed over with the haze of fascination and want, that you aren’t aware Eddie is stepping closer until you can smell his Old Spice and see what he meant in regards to stamping a statement on your conscious (and unconscious mind).

“Holy fuck…”

That stubble bitten mouth pulls away to reveal a milky white smirk. His chocolate eyes, dusted with a blood red layer of shadow, long lashes elongated by a mascara wand, and a charcoal wing swiping out carefully, sharply — widen comically, enhanced impossibly wider. A silver sword dangles from his ear — you note. He’d apparently remembered he’d had it pierced and decided to indulge. His fresh perm is soft and silky looking, the product still settled into the locks.

You gulp onto a dry choke, his outfit what really makes your knees jello, a throb automatically smacking you in between your legs.

“Yeah?” You hear the slight crunch of leather as he backs up to give you a twirl, his ass well rounded in the acid wash denim, his chain swaying, wallet resting against a cheek beneath the denim pocket. He blinks those lashes and winks at you, making you physically clench your legs together. “You like it sweetheart? S’ a lot, I know.”

His inky colored nails, his signature chunky rings clad on those deliciously sinful fingers, they slip along the tightened corset that’s wrapped around his slender waist, stopping short below his nipples to help showcase the cut off crop of mesh that dangles around his neckline, covering what the corset doesn’t. His tattoos veiled, but visible, as if they’re entities peeking out to play. His combat boots that are still smeared with his own blood from the Upside Down are laced over his feet. You stumble all around your words, tongue lolling, mouth pooling with saliva. Eddie filters a fingertip beneath your chin, leaning down beneath the glow of his bedroom lamplight. “It’s a hit then?”

The words leave your mouth before you can stop them. Eddie Munson has that effect on you. “How long did your makeup take you? You can do it again before tonight, right?”

His enriching brows frown, a silly grin pressing the lines of his mouth. “Could do it all in the car. Everything but the wings.” He wiggles his defined digits to lay emphasis for his question. “Why, baby? What’s goin’ on in this head of yours? You’re running a little bit on empty tonight, huh?”

“So it’s not a big deal?”

“It’s not a big deal if what?” He waves his hand as if he’s taking a bow, awaiting your answer.

However, he doesn’t need any confirmation, your desperation, accelerated breathing, and tightening of your thigh muscles give you away. Not to mention your blown to hell pupils. He still wants to tease you a little, dangle you. You’re his best audience member, and he wants to spin you on his finger and work you to the bone until you’re begging and panting for him to hurt you a little harder. You lean into his touch — a natural instinct that runs deeper than breathing.

His cigarette stained breath is speckled with hints of cinnamon gum, his plush lips barely caressing yours, pulling them open and hovering a top his as he speaks with a fucked out rasp. He’s just as gone. His hands reach between you two and he finds your clasped hands (you didn’t realize you’d done that, nails having left marks behind in your palms), placing them onto his simple belt buckle. “What should I do with my little groupie, hmm? Make her suck me off, leave her wet all night?”

You mewl at that, suddenly finding speech capabilities. “No!”

“Or… maybe my sweetheart needs me to unzip my jeans and bend her over the dresser so I can claim that nice little pussy. Want it to sting every time you move at the bar, baby? No one will hear it when you whimper because of me.”

He’s already swelling against your palm, helping you undo his belt to release some tension and gain a bit of friction. His fingers cup your neck’s nape, draping down your back like a winding vine, tapping an invisible beat only he knows. You’re arching into him, your flimsy sweats and t-shirt too heavy and too hot. You aren’t even ready for the event tonight, but it’s a good thing. And as Eddie knees you into his bed until you’re falling back onto the mattress — you’re downright fucking grateful.

He’s your rockstar and you’re his instrument, and dammit to hell if he can’t play you to make you sing for him. The mesh is tickling the backs of your thighs, his pick chain dragging with his heaving breaths, your hands finding purchase in it to grip on every inhale. His lids are closed, a caressing explosion of red and black smudged together. His cheeks are soaked in red, mouth plump and swollen, your creamy cum soaking his chin, glistening when he’s turning his head to shimmy in a particular deep lick. His hands are squishing the doughy flesh that surrounds his head, your thighs spread wide, his curls tickling.

“Eds… oh, baby. So good with your fucking mouth.” You’re trying not to rock, to ruin his makeup completely beyond repair, but the man is just as insatiable, and you did ask for this.

His nose nudges your clit and he inhales like a fucking wild animal, nuzzling the tuft of slick curls scattered across your cunt. He could have the devil’s eyes — hell, with his caramel irises shattered to a thin ring, alike to your unraveling sanity, his pupils make him look like a beast, called upon by your heat. He blinks those wet lashes and you see his fingers travel up your cunt, spreading your labia, smearing what wetness he gathers from that — across your sternum and over your breasts, leaving a heavy handed smack to each one. His deep voice latches onto that cove that keeps you connected during this time, being so far outer limits. You already are prepared for him to motion with a hand on your neck, turning your gaze to yourself perched on his face, staring back at you from the stand alone mirror he’d gotten.

The perfect view. He’d dubbed it.

It’s a sight too erotic for you to contain the wanton cry that slithers off your scorched tongue. Your legs thump under a sporadic heat, and Eddie wiggles his fingers against your collar bone, breaking away with a string of your arousal connected to his mouth. He suckles it with an appreciative moan. “See yourself sitting on your throne, baby? This was what you wanted, what you needed, right?”

“Eddie, love you so much. I can’t —“

His fingers dip into the motions with his tongue, circling your opening before they dip inside, being sucked in with wet welcome. Your eyes close, then open with every harsh squelch that echoes in the small room. There’s a familiar twist that’s attacking your navel and you’re aware exactly what it is. You start to shake your head and rise off the stimulation. “Eds… too much, m’ gonna — and your outfit…”

He’s like a giddy boy at Christmas, a Cheshire smirk causing him to pull his ruined face from your cunt, pressing a few kisses to your thigh.

“You’re gonna…? Piss on me or squirt? Can’t say I’d mind either way.” You tighten around his fingers and bounce yourself onto the thick digits, that spongy spot ignited by the stimulation.

“I’ll ruin your shirt, maybe your pants, baby—“

God help you when you look at his loving gaze staring directly back at you. His makeup is absolutely demolished, perspiration and your essence smearing it around his cheeks. He’s shining with you, sampling your taste off his mouth. His chest is heaving wildly, breaths choppy. You can practically swallow his fucking words.

“No one’s gonna know that it’s not sweat, sweetheart. I’ll be wearing you all night.”

And he curls those gifted treasures, coaxing you forward, his tongue licking where his fingers meet, all the way to your clit, before he closes his lips around it. You come undone, that firestorm urge seizing your insides and beckoning you into oblivion. You shout his name so loudly that you’re sure everyone can hear. He presses you into him with a hard jostle, and your translucent cream spills from you, drenching your boyfriend, your thighs trembling, hands fisting into his hair. He helps you ride it through, moaning lowly as the spray floods his face, his own hips arching off the bed.

You’re still trembling when his fingers slide out of you, cum following them, stringing to Eddie’s fingers in a shimmery web, and he greedily laps you up once more, tugging you beside him with a softness that only he is capable of, rubbing your back to help calm you. You help him clean his face with your discarded shirt, his hand finding your breast and stroking absentmindedly along your nipple as if it were a chord he was playing. You sigh happily, looking at him. You’re so in love it’s disgusting.

“You’re a mess, Munson.” You find yourself giggling.

He shrugs. “Nectar of the gods, baby. Nectar of my goddess. A goddess who is gonna have to help me redo all this.” He motions to his face and you nod.

“I am your most devoted groupie, Eddie Munson.”

~*~

684 notes · View notes

hobiebrownbrowser · 10 months

Text

Baking For Him💕

Imagine:Hobie said you can bake something at his place because he has a sweet tooth.

I feel as if Hobie would learn or know sign language if the people he knew were deaf or a mute 💞

Ps. Reader uses sign language 💞 I know small about but suck at understanding 💀

Hobie x Mute FEM!Reader

"What kin' of ingredients are you planin' to use luv?" Hobie was looking at the recipe book you brought over. Flipping through the pages one by one as more interesting desserts that he didn't even know existed until now.

You placed a simple kiss on his cheek, Flipping backwards towards a page that said "Chocolate Filled Brownies" it didn't take him long to gather out the ingredients from different cabinets, the refrigerator being the last pit stop.

You scanned over them, making sure he had everything before reading the book again. First you needed the dry ingredients to all be put together. Asking if Hobie could do it using sign language.

He quickly got to work, combining the flour, cocoa powder, brown sugar, white sugar, baking powder, salt, and miniature chocolate chips all together after measuring them in his own style, not even following the right instructions. Laughter coming from you seeing how unbothered he was to deal with it.

"What's next luv?"

You gave him a bright smile, asking if he could crack an egg into a bowl and beat it until it was smooth, while you mixed the chocolate chips and butter using his small broken down microwave. Putting it in every 15 seconds until both were fully melted together.

Praising Hobie with another kiss as he already mixed the egg with the dry ingredients. He was careful not to over mix it. Using an old wooden spoon as a substitute for a spatula.

Grabbing the mini oven pan from below the counter and handing it to me. I thanked him with a peck on the lips. Watching as he slowly began to get flustered from all of the kisses. I couldn't help but do it again, again, and again. Hobie covering his face as he urges me to continue baking.

You pouted but complied with his words. Melting some extra butter, glazing the inside of the pan with it, you filled the empty pan with the dough, Grabbing a chocolate bar from the fridge and slicing it into small square shaped pieces before placing them in the middle.

The last step was to bake them, putting them in a small oven that rests on top of a counter. Now we wait for about 10-15 minutes.

"So, what we' doin for the time bein luvly?" Hobie spotted the smile plastered on your face. Sharing the same smile before you both exit the kitchen and back towards the couch.

You instantly started showering his face in kisses. Cupping his cheeks into your palms and kissing all you could reach. Finally reaching his lips once you pull him in for an genuine kiss. It felt like heaven every time he let's you spoil him. Your body being moved onto his lap to get a better picture of his handsome sculpted face.

"Like wha' you see'n baby?" You nod to his question. Giving him one last kiss before the oven timer went off. You hurried to the kitchen, taking the hot pan out with handmade mittens. Stitched from almost every cloth in hobie's house.

You let them sit on the stove for a little while. Saying they were too hot to eat at the moment making Hobie groan. He paused for a moment before looking back at you. Aching you back into his arms as you both decide to watch a movie to kill time.

You giggle, giving him a few more kisses until his face was completely covered in lipstick. He wasn't aware at the time until he went to the bathroom. The cracked mirror revealing just how much you loved him. Your smile growing wider every mark he touched.

"You should bake a' my place more often luv. "

402 notes · View notes

imagineredwood · 2 months

Text

3. Roses 🌹

Summary: Miguel always spoils you, but especially on Valentine’s Day.

Pairing: Miguel Galindo x female reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI Sexual content. CONSENSUAL drunken sex,

Word count: 1.2K

A/n: I know these were supposed to be drabbles but my fingers had a kind of their own and kept typing 🤐

“Jesus. How much did this cost??”

You looked over at Miguel incredulously, still in shock by the what looked like hundreds of roses all bunched together neatly in the round case. The bright scarlet petals were dusted with a gold shimmer on the very tips, something that made the arrangement look even more expensive. Loose petals scattered on the tile leading out to the pool. Miguel grinned, his hand coming to snake around your waist as he kissed the very tip of your nose.

“Don’t worry about that. You’re priceless, and your gifts should be priceless. I have much more set up for us.”

With that, he squeezed your side gently, ushering you to follow the petals. You walked behind the trail out to the pool, finding that the usual warm white lights that were strung up were now in soft shades of pink, the entire backyard having a pale pink hue. The table was set up elegantly, an ice bucket right in front with chilled bottles of your favorite champagne and wine. A long charcuterie board with all your favorite cheeses and fruits, candied jams and specialty nuts. A tray of glistening chocolate covered strawberries sat off to the left, some with drizzles over top and others with sprinkles. There was a fondue machine towards the back and Miguel motioned over to the side where the outdoor kitchen was, two chefs moving around silently as they cooked.

“The main course will be done in half hour. Sit down and let me pour you a drink.”

You smiled, smoothing your hands over the back of the dress Miguel had picked out for you to wear and took a seat. He held up a wine glass and a flute, letting you choose which you wanted first, pouring one for you and one for him before he came to sit down beside you. He held out your glass and you took it, your mouth curling into a smile as you took a sip. Miguel’s smile mirrored yours, always loving to see you enjoy something, regardless of what it was.

“Good?”

“Great.”

“Only the best for my girl.”

Your eyes crinkled in the corners as you settled into his side, his hand coming to rest on the knee of your leg that was peeking out through the slit in your dress.

You both drank and ate and talked and laughed, well once the table was nearly empty and everyone save for the guards had gone home. You were both tipsy and giggly, as well as touchy. The wine and champagne had made you feel flushed, but Miguel’s wandering hands the entire night had served to do the same despite the soft chill of the night air. You swallowed down the last of the wine in your glass, eyes glazed as you looked at your husband.

“You always treat me so well. You spoil me.”

The cartel leader smiled softly, hand leaving your thigh to instead gently take hold of your chin.

“You deserve all of this and more.”

It was true. He viewed you as if you had been the one to hang the moon and all of the stars in the sky. You were everything to him. The only woman for him. People had said that once he was married, the novelty would die down. That you both would get comfortable, and the spark would dwindle. ‘Happens to every marriage at some point.’ People said. And Miguel was determined to make sure that didn’t ever happen to the two of you. So, he made it a point to always shower you in love, attention, affection, and gifts, never wanting the honeymoon phase to go away. And so far he had been successful, much to your appeasement.

Your eyes fluttered in your tipsy state, lashes heavy and seductive as you looked at him, a perfectly manicured finger running down the buttons of his white shirt.

“Maybe we could take a shower now.”

Miguel nodded, hand reaching for yours so he could bring it up to his lips, pressing an adoring kiss to your knuckles.

“That sounds like a great idea, mi amor.”

You were both up and off then, gaits a bit messy from the alcohol, giggles and snickers being shared amongst the two of you as you bumped into walls and corners in your haste to get upstairs. By the time you had, you both were sure there’d be slight bruises to your hips from all the edges you wandered into. That was the last thing on your mind though as you both stumbled into the bathroom, lips locked, hands wandering. It didn’t take long for your dress to be unzipped and discarded, Miguel’s button up tossed somewhere over in the corner. Your mouths were messy, hands even messier. A few bumped teeth and bent back thumbs earning laughs from the two of you.

The giggles remained even when he was inside of you, the air light and fun. When he pinched his finger putting you up on the counter. When you threw your head back and knocked it against the mirror. Miguel’s life was dangerous, as was yours by default, so carefree moments like this were what made it all worth it. It was the coil in your stomach that brought about more seriousness as you clung to him, legs locked around his waist as he pounded into you, the vase on the counter wobbling and rocking slightly

“God, you feel so good, Miguel.”

He grunted, cock twitching within you at your praise.

“So perfect. Just for me.”

He cursed, willing himself to hold back, never liking to be the one to come first. Granted, he had already made you come twice, once with his fingers and another with his mouth, but he still wanted you to be the one to come first. Your words weren’t going to make it easy for him though.

“You always know how to get me, preciosa.”

You laughed, Miguel shuddering as your walls clenched and tightened with your chuckling.

“Fuck, stop that.”

His words only served to make you laugh more, your drunken brain not able to understand.

“Stop what? I thought you liked my laugh. You always said it was cute.”

He nodded, a small laugh of his own leaking out.

“I do. And it is. But not when I’m trying not to come.”

It clicked then and Miguel shook his head as your lips formed an O, now understanding.

“My apologies.”

You had meant to stop laughing. Truly, you had. But now you had the giggles, and they didn’t seem to be going anywhere or stopping any time soon. So, you laughed, and laughed more at Miguel’s clenched jaw, a bead of sweat forming on his forehead as he struggled, cursing as he spilled within you. Your giggles died down as he settled, your eyes enamored as they looked at him with not an ounce of disappointment, only love.

“Sorry. I couldn’t help it.”

Miguel nodded, understanding.

“Yeah, yeah. You owe me one.”

At that you quirked a brow, leaning up to tease him.

“I’d think you owe me one, actually.”

With a shake of his head, Miguel pulled out and nodded, a worryingly mischievous look in his eye as he agreed then sunk down to his knees before you, his breath chilling the mess that was spread over your lips and inner thighs.

“You’re absolutely right.”

General taglist

@piccasoe @ateliefloresdaprimavera @gemini0410 @woahitslucyylu @my-rosegold-soul @that-chick212 @everyhowlmarksthedead @glimmerglittergirl @fanaticfangurl21 @encounterthepast @svintsandghosts @starrynite7114 @destynelseclipsa @queenbeered @iamthegraham @emoengelfurleben @otomefromtheheart @rosieposie0624 @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @beeroses @weirdosandhopelessromantics @kola95 @black-repunzel99 @xonickibaby @cruzwalters @myakai13 @mrsstevenbuchananstark @lyly00 @kaystacks17 @cole-winchester @alexxavicry @savagemickey03 @fanfic-n-tabulous @gangstaliciou06

Mayans MC taglist

@dazzledamazon @abunnykisses @briana-mishell24 @wrcn9fvlcver @thesandbeneathmytoes @krysiewithak @appropriate-writers-name @blessedboo @megapeacelovemusic-blog @emoengelfurleben @blowmymbackout @abby-splace @kola95 @black-repunzel99 @redpoodlern @myakai13

@cruzwalters @danimals1096 @po3ticb3auty @lyly00 @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @angel-121 @fanfic-n-tabulous @90sisthenew80s @lovelytricia @librarian1002

#imagines #mayans mc #valentines day drabble event #miguel galindo x reader #miguel galindo #mayans imagine

97 notes · View notes

sweethoneyrose83 · 2 days

Text

Heavenly Pistachio Raspberry Dream Cake

Ingredients:

For the Pistachio Sponge Cake:

1 cup shelled pistachios, finely ground

1 cup all-purpose flour

1 tsp baking powder

1/4 tsp salt

4 large eggs, room temperature

1 cup granulated sugar

1/2 tsp vanilla extract

1/2 cup unsalted butter, melted and cooled

For the Raspberry Gelée:

2 cups fresh raspberries

1/2 cup granulated sugar

2 tbsp lemon juice

2 tsp gelatin powder

For the Vanilla Cream Cheese Frosting:

1 lb cream cheese, softened

1/2 cup unsalted butter, softened

3 cups powdered sugar, sifted

2 tsp vanilla extract

For the Mirror Glaze:

3/4 cup granulated sugar

1/2 cup water

1 tbsp gelatin powder

1/2 cup condensed milk

1 cup white chocolate chips

Green food coloring

Garnishes:

Fresh raspberries

Shelled pistachios

Edible gold leaf (optional)

Directions:

Preheat oven to 350°F (175°C). Line the bottoms of two 8-inch cake pans with parchment paper.

For the sponge cake, combine ground pistachios, flour, baking powder, and salt. Beat eggs, sugar, and vanilla until pale and doubled in size. Gently fold in dry ingredients and melted butter. Divide batter between pans and bake for 25 minutes.

For the gelée, purée raspberries, sugar, and lemon juice. Strain and heat with gelatin until dissolved. Cool until slightly set, then spread over one cake layer.

For the frosting, beat cream cheese and butter until smooth. Gradually add powdered sugar and vanilla. Spread over the set gelée.

For the glaze, mix sugar, water, and gelatin. Add condensed milk, then pour over white chocolate; mix until smooth. Add green coloring, let cool slightly, then pour over frosting.

Garnish with fresh raspberries, pistachios, and gold leaf. Chill until set.

Prep Time: 1 hour | Cooking Time: 25 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour 25 minutes | Kcal: 640 kcal | Servings: 12 servings.

#recipes to try #recipes #dessert #baking

4 notes · View notes

firstelevens · 9 months

Text

bonus content for summer came like cinnamon, so sweet

a comprehensive guide to the wedding cakes at the Rogers-Carter nuptials

Bucky: butter cake with a rhubarb-rose compote and custard buttercream, decorated with piped buttercream flowers

Sam: brown butter cake with a toffee and creme diplomat filling, decorated with a white chocolate mirror glaze

Nat: white cake with a berry compote and whipped cream filling and swiss meringue buttercream, decorated with meringues, glazed berries, and gold leaf

Peter Parker: funfetti cake with swiss meringue buttercream, decorated with buttercream “paint swatches”

Rhodey: white cake with a coffee soak and a mascarpone mousse, decorated with a dark chocolate mirror glaze

Scott: malted chocolate cake with a salted caramel filling and a vanilla buttercream, decorated with stenciled flowers

Bruce: lemon-thyme cake with a blackberry and whipped cream filling and swiss meringue buttercream, decorated with pansies

Peter Quill: dark chocolate cake with cherry compote and kirsch whipped cream, decorated with a marbled mirror glaze

Gamora: white cake with lemon curd and fresh raspberries, decorated with a toasted meringue icing

Wanda: lavender and burnt honey cake with honey buttercream, decorated with violets

Happy: chocolate cake with coconut-pecan-caramel filling and ganache frosting, decorated with a chocolate mirror glaze and gold leaf

#early extras for the tumblr girlies (gender neutral)#y'all can just keep scrolling I just needed to link to this post

6 notes · View notes

lavenderleavened · 1 year

Text

tried my hand at those gourmet mousse cakes ::3c

Raspberry mousse (with a jam pocket inside) on a white chocolate and honey roasted almond base covered with a mirror glaze garnished with raspberries, honeycomb, honey roasted almonds, and gold leaf Made for my oc Aodh’s birthday (Feb 13th)/ valentines day, a bit early bc I’ll be busy next week

15 notes · View notes

abbeyabominable · 5 months

Text

hmmm

“You are embarrassed about your blood, its redness, the way it is just coming out of you with no concern for anyone’s feelings. You are … embarrassed to be alive.”

- Carmen Maria Machado, In the Dream House

The rabbit’s head is bleeding.

Bright red, dark crimson, its coat is drenched in a sunset of flesh. You are drenched in it, too. Your hands: pink palms and red, red, red fingertips.

You found it in your locker. It’s Valentines Day. The head was tucked inside a heart shaped box, the ones full of chocolate. You’ve never held one in your hands. It is your white whale, your absentee lover. You smiled when you saw it: the lace trim around the edges and glitter on the lid, flaking off, falling to the floor, turning the ground into a disco. You held the harpoon in your hand and penetrated the creature, feeling its meat cave underneath your pressure.

You want to be wanted.

And then you opened the box, you saw the bloody thing, the severed head, instead of the chocolates and admiration you expected. Your first thought was, I wish I was loved, and your second was, oh, dear God.

You might have screamed, or maybe you whispered, or maybe you were silent. You drop the box on the floor. The vinyl is splattered red, and you know your shoes will squeak when you walk away. If you walk away. The rabbit’s mouth falls open as it hits the tile, and out falls a note on it lolled tongue, ballpoint ink on lined paper, wet with saliva.

It reads: Some-BUNNY loves you!

Maybe your white whale is dead, after all.

You pick it, slowly, off the ground, how you imagine one peels roadkill from the bottom of a tire, meaty fruit leather from parchment paper. You hold it, cupped between both hands. Only then do you notice how the head pulsates, how its eyes blink:

The rabbit is alive. The head is living.

You are going to be sick. You always feel sick. The blood pools between your fingers. You wonder how long it will take for it to congeal, whether it may form the shape of your fingers if you stay here long enough. The scent fills your nose, covers your tongue. It is metallic and sweet, like an old A.C unit, like a broken hymen. You feel bile collecting in your throat, and you rush to a nearby trashcan. The puke falls out of you like you have no sphincter, and you wonder if you ever had one at all. Your vomit is the brown, chunky glaze on a donut made of plastic wrappers, paper, and coffee grounds. You can imagine yourself biting into it, how the crumbs would fall into your lap and how you would look at yourself in the mirror after eating it, disgusted, the sweet taste turning rotten on your tongue. You look away.

The head’s eyelashes are long and tangled. They frame the rabbit’s small, red eyes, but it is not albino— instead, a rich, caramel brown. It doesn’t look right. It is a rejected creature from Noah’s Arc, it escaped the flood by swimming, by willpower. No one wanted it alive. It lived anyways.

The rabbit is a heart, its ears the atriums, its eyes the vena cavas, and the big, gaping wound where its neck was, the aorta. Blood is coming from everywhere. The rabbit is more blood than flesh. With each throb of the head, more blood comes from its arteries. The more vibration, the more blood, with clots even spewing from the stump.

#gore ment #animal death ment #blood ment

3 notes · View notes

bisexualbakes · 1 year

Text

For the past few months, I’ve been baking Yuzuru Hanyu inspired cakes and posting them on my twitter. Figure it’s high time I put them on here too, so here’s the first one.

🌸Hana Ni Nare🌸

Vanilla cake with russian buttercream and a white chocolate mirror glaze.

#yuzuru hanyu #baking #cake decorating #cake design

11 notes · View notes

thiswasinevitableid · 1 year

Text

Found (Sternclay)

One of the bonus prompts was: Halloween Wedding

Halloween comes to Kepler on the first cold week of the year. A summer that lingered too long means the trees are still changing color, splotches of green, yellow, and orange painting the hillsides as a few off-season visitors weave through them.

In the town proper, citizens of Kepler put the final touches on haunted yards and run to the store for a few more bags of candy, just in case. At the Cryptonomica, Ned Chicane, still moving much slower than he’s used to, posts up a sign reading “closed for the day” on the front door.

Topside, Mama posts the same on the doors of Amnesty Lodge. The statement is not entirely true; they’ll still have guests in the rooms tonight, but they won’t be coming off the highway or over from the National Forest. Many of them will arrive this afternoon from a stone arch a mile away, smoothing down unfamiliar hair and studying their newly human faces.

The Lodge lobby and porch are far more active than on a usual morning. Moira carries a tray of mugs through the main doors, passing them out to the residents who are busy slicing into pumpkins and dumping mounds of seeds and orange innards onto newspaper. There was initially a system but, as with so many plans, some degree of chaos is inevitable and their assembly line has become a circle for trading stories and predictions as they work. No one is all that worried by slowing pace; they’ll still have the Jack’O Lanterns spelling out “Congratulations Joseph and Barclay” long before the other guests arrive.

—----------------------------------------------

Barclay knows from his years of watching rom-coms that if people daydream about their wedding day, the dress is the focus. But for him, it’s always, always been the cake. The flavor changed depending on the object of his affection; strawberry and lemon for the man he met when he first came to the Lodge. A play on Boston Cream Pie for another, a member of the Pine Guard who predated Mama and was lost to them soon after Barclay began helping with the hunts.

The size and color shifted too, from towering with pink and white roses to a single layer with a chocolate mirror glaze. For a while he thought cupcakes could be fun. The only part of the daydream that never changed was that, the morning of his wedding, he’d be in the kitchen making it. And here he is.

Though, he’ll admit the bat stencils are a bit of a surprise.

When he and Joseph first sat down to plan, his fiance set a calendar on the coffee table along with a blank, bulleted to-do list and a cup of colored pens. Then he’d slid next to Barclay on the couch, writing things down as Barclay described all the things he wanted or thought might be sweet to include. It was only after forty-five minutes that he realized Joseph was using his professional skills to perform the world's most loving interrogation. So he stopped himself midway through a tangent on music and asked Joseph what the important parts were for him.

“I…I’m not really sure. I spent years assuming I’d be married to my work so I never put much thought into how a wedding would look.” He pauses, eyes on some distant point, the murmurs, “not that I didn’t want one. I wanted a life with someone. But imagining it just made it all the more obvious why I’d never have it.”

“Baby..” Barclay murmurs, nuzzling his cheek, and Joseph smiles at him. It’s a dreamy smile, one he only does when it’s just the two of them, often when Barclay has done or said something especially corny.

“All I know right now is that I want us to be married at the end of it. Oh, and to break a glass. Sterns aren’t the most religiously observant but apparently we’ve done that one at every wedding.”

“Anything else?”

“Nothing comes to mind.” Joseph kisses his cheek, “like I said, the most important thing about the wedding is right here with me.”

“You’re sweet, babe. Are there, like, more out there things you think you’d want?”

Joseph thinks a moment. Then he chuckles, “It’s silly, but I’ve always thought it’d be amazing to get married on Halloween.”

So here he is, getting cream cheese frosting to just the right shade of dark blue. It’ll frost his four tier pumpkin spice cake, as well as the five tray pumpkin spice cakes he made just to be safe. Once the frosting is on, he’ll stencil bats swirling up the cake towards the moon iced on the very top tier. That tier is just for the two of them: espresso cake with a layer of chocolate ganache.

They both enjoy that flavor on its own merits. But for Barclay there’s the added affection of it being the recipe he was working on one of the first times Joseph really talked with him. The agent was the only person left in the restaurant on a slow, winter night. Barclay was tinkering with the batter, measuring out the espresso when a friendly, professional voice asked, “could I trouble you for a cup of that?”

He’d nearly burst out laughing. Because no, sharing coffee was no trouble. It didn’t even crack the top one hundred of the troubles that swirled around them, troubles that only escalated the longer Joseph was in his life.

The trouble is you’re hunting me

The trouble is I like you

The trouble is I can’t stop thinking about kissing you

The trouble is the world is ending and I’ll never get to tell you the truth

And then he’d said “fuck it” and one look on Joseph’s face told him all the trouble had been worth it.

The kitchen door whuffs open and closed, and he can tell without looking that it’s Mama.

“Still can’t believe you went this way instead of payin someone for a cake.”

“I like making cakes. And I wanted to make this one.”

Mama fondly shakes her head “I know, you wanna show your fella just how much he means to you.”

“I mean, yeah, but…this is for everyone. I love him, but I love you all, too. I made this for my family, new and old.”

His friend rests a hand on his back, studying the cake, “I’m so goddamn happy for you. You got the biggest heart of anyone I’ve ever known. Glad you found someone who’ll treat it the way it deserves.”

He leans far enough to the side to rest his cheek on the top of her head, “Thanks, Mama.”

She ruffles the back of his shirt, “Aw, don’t mention it. I’ll leave you to it, gotta go help Thacker with the decorations. You need us, you know where we’ll be.”

A swell of emotion hits him right under the ribs, and he turns to bear hug her, muffling her resulting laugh while novelty Halloween songs drift over from the lobby.

—------------------------------------------------------------

“This really isn’t necessary.” Joseph sits back down on the bed as Lily, his oldest sister, lays her make-up out on the dresser.

“It absolutely is.” Amy, his other sister, slides a DVD of Creature from the Black Lagoon into the player, “we’ll have some nice, family bonding while we get ready and–Joseph Michael Stern I see you eyeing those windows. Keep your butt inside.”

“I should just check to make sure-”

“Joseph, you told us yourself that you had everything planned to a T and that you trusted your friends, and our parents, to get things ready today.”

“And” Lily adds, “that our jobs for today were a) stand with you during the ceremony and b)keep you from spending your entire wedding day fussing.”

“Okay, okay. I’m relaxing, see?” He lays on the bed, “I’m completely calm. I feel like my heart is trying to tunnel out of my chest but I’m calm.”

“That’s pretty normal, wouldn’t you say Lil?”

“It’s how I felt when I married Carlos.”

His sisters flank him as fake smoke fills the screen. Amy is still in pajama pants and a sweater, Lily is already sporting her pantsuit, the same midnight purple as the shirt Joseph will be wearing in a few short hours. They chose that and copper as the wedding colors to be on theme while still allowing for some semblance of sophistication. Joseph knows that, for all his comfort with the woods and the rougher side of life, his husband-to-be also craves elegance.

That’s why Joseph arranged the catering to be a surprise. Barclay okayed the menu, but Joseph hasn’t told him it’s coming from his favorite, fancy, big city restaurant.

“I’m glad you’re letting kids skip out on the reception to go Trick or Treating. Ellie was going to be pissed, excuse my french, if she had to miss that.”

Joseph nods; he’s not sure what favor Barclay called in to get Kirby to agree to chaperone a bunch of visiting kids through the Main Street Trick or Treat, but he’s grateful all the same.

Amy nudges him, “Speaking of family, guess what dad gave to Barclay’s…mom? And sister?”

“Oh christ, not the ducks.”

“Yes, the ducks.”

He sighs; of all the traditions floating around, he doesn’t know why his dad’s family is so attached to giving little wooden ducks to the family members of anyone who marries in. Still, he’s glad they’re so accepting of his somewhat unconventional life in Kepler.

(Who is he kidding, after the first time he brought Barclay to Chicago his parents decided the cook was their future son in law and made no secret of it).

“I think I’ll get changed-”

“The ceremony isn’t for another four hours. Now” Lily passes him a sparkling water from the mini fridge, “sit back and enjoy the fact this is the one day I’ll watch this kind of movie with you two.”

He takes the can with a grin, “I love you, too.”

—----------------------------------------------------

The clock ticks down the minutes until five p.m as the sun clicks closer to the horizon, creating a golden hour that renders the entire Lodge glowing as more guests pull into the parking lot. Wine red dahlias and deep purple roses bunch together at every door with orange coneflowers and remarkably metallic poppies. Black pansies sit in small, skull-shaped vases at every table, and guests are welcome to take bottles and cans from ice-filled coffins as they wait for the ceremony to begin. With the exception of the coffins, Dani grew them all (with a little help from Aubrey).

The ceremony is in the garden, and as the guests walk the path of purple rose petals to their seats, they speculate as to what the grooms are up to.

Jake whispers to Aubrey that they’re probably getting in a little make-out session before things start.

Mrs. Stern tells her mother that Joseph is no doubt going over things for the hundredth time so everything will be just right.

Duck asks Indrid what he thinks they’re up to, teasing that maybe Barclay got cold feet and Joe will have to hunt him down all over again. Indrid glances briefly at the ceiling and then smiles. When Duck raises a perplexed eyebrow, the seer simply says, “not all futures are mine to share.”

—--------------------------------------------------------

What Joseph is actually doing is pacing in a hallway just out of view of the guests. His sisters have already left to join the rest of the wedding party, and as he peeks through a window he can see they’re almost ready to begin.

Everyone he loves is out there, dressed in their autumnal or gothic finery. The whole place looks amazing, everyone did what he asked them to. Yet his heart is still beating hard enough to break the world in half.

A hand slips into his own and in an instant the beats return to a steady, quiet thump.

“Thanks for giving me the morning to myself.”

“Thanks for letting my sisters more or less hold me hostage.” He turns to look at Barclay and lets out a breathless “oh.” His fiance is in a black suit with a copper pin-striped shirt and dark purple tie. Had he not clearly just brushed down his beard, Joseph’s fingers would already be in it, stroking him and telling him how gorgeous he is.

“Not bad for a Bigfoot, huh?” Barclay rumbles.

“You put anyone, cryptid or human, to shame.”

“Right back at you, babe. But, uh, think you’re missing something”

Joseph looks down as Barclay takes his tie between his fingers. When he smooths it back down, there’s a silver tie pin in the shape of a Bigfoot.

“Perfect” they say as one just as Dani pokes her head around the corner and waves that it’s time.

As per Sylph tradition, they walk arm in arm down the aisle. As per the online certification he got, Thacker is waiting between their respective grooms-people to act as officiant. Once everyone is welcomed, Thacker tells them it’s time for their vows.

Barclay holds his hands, looking at their joined fingers as he begins, “I, I know I don’t look it, but anyone who knows me can tell you I’m kind of a romantic. Which is why I asked about a dozen people if these vows were good or if they were too long and mushy.” He pauses for gentle laughter, “they told me it was fine, so here it goes.” This time he manages to meet Joseph’s eyes. Joseph doesn’t cry easily, but from the way Barclay is looking at him has him halfway there.

“When I was younger I, I was kind of a wanderer. I felt like I was always far away from home, like there was somewhere waiting for me if I could just find it. I found a lot of it here, at Amnesty. Even then it always felt like there was a piece missing. Then you came into my life and little by little I realized my missing piece had found me. And that you made a life I already loved richer and fuller than I ever imagined.” His voice cracks, “I love you Joseph. I love you so much.”

Some of the guests are crying, and he tries not to join them as he takes a deep breath and grips his fiance’s hands, “Barclay, you are the kindest, smartest, most fascinating man I know. You’re an incredible cook and an even better friend. I spent so much of my life searching; searching for new challenges and for answers. But the funny thing about life is that what you’re looking for and what you find can be the same and be worlds apart at the same time. That’s how I feel when we’re together. You were, you are, everything I was looking for. And you’re so much more.”

He’s supposed to take the rings–two black bands shot through with orange crystal and obtained from Sylvain through a combination of favors, diplomacy, and updated trade laws–from his pocket so they can slip them on.

But Barclay is wiping his eyes with the back of his hand and Joseph is close enough to hear the not quite human sounds rumbling from his chest. So instead he takes his husbands face in his hands and rests their foreheads together as he whispers, “it’s okay, big guy, I’m here.”

Barclay cups his face and kisses him so passionately he tastes fire on his tongue. The rest of the ceremony becomes a dim whirl of activity, and looking back he’s pretty sure they fumbled the rings onto their fingers during the embrace. Thacker pronounces them husbands, glass cracks, and all the while his world starts and ends with the man in front of him.

By the time they’ve taken all the necessary family photos and joined their friends at the reception, he’s still walking on air but is at least able to take in new, complex information. Like how Barclay gasps when he sees that the black, bat-shaped ravioli and bloody heart fruit salads are from his favorite restaurant in the world.

Jake already has the wedding playlist pumping through the speakers, songs about love, death, and monsters weaving through the air as they wind their way through the crowd of well-wishers. They find Ned, Aubrey, and Duck clustered near the drinks coffin, their Pine Guard patches replaced for the evening by matching, bat-shaped bow-ties.

After congratulatory hugs (of Joseph as well as Barclay, something he’s still getting used to), Barclay smiles at Ned, “Y’know, this whole day is happening because of you. If you hadn’t shot that fucking video, my special agent would never have come here.”

“I would say it was my pleasure, but it did result in a non-zero number of threats directed at me from various parties, so that tempers things somewhat.” Ned smiles to show that whatever harm was done is water under the bridge.

All the same, Joseph leans closer and adds, “I had a word with a few people in a few relevant counties. You have a remarkably clear record, Mr. Chicane.”

Ned barks out a laugh, “Being around us has rubbed off on you in the best possible way, dear boy.”

They excuse themselves to continue their circuit of the guests as more jack o lanterns magically flicker to life outside and caterers bring in crockpots of cider.

“Did you really do that for him?”

“For the records I could find, yes.”

Joseph can make polite conversation and accept compliments and congratulations all night, but as dinner time creeps closer he can tell Barclay needs a break from the noise. Luckily, they’ve both memorized all the side doors and stealthy exists in the Lodge.

They wander to the edge of the hot springs, to a bench surrounded by plants that snuck over from Sylvain on the bottoms of peoples shoes (Duck found out and corralled all the errant sprouts into container gardens.

Barclay leans against him, “Never thought this’d be my favorite place in the Lodge.”

Joseph slips his hand down Barclay’s pocket, “Even more than the bed in the room where I stayed?”

“That’s a close second. But nothing is gonna beat out our first kiss.”

“Can I say something a little sappy?”

“Any time you want.”

“I thought kisses were only that intense in the movies.” Joseph smiles, “it felt like the world was black and white when I closed my eyes and then I opened them to everything being technicolor. Did it feel like that to you?”

Barclay rumblepurrs and kisses him, “It felt like being found.”

#agent stern/barclay #sternclay #promptober 2022 #taz amnesty

19 notes · View notes