So Alec had randomly mentioned that he was actually just gonna stay home on Thanksgiving and yes, as Eliot so awesomely put it, "play stupid video games."
So when I watched Top Chef: Just Desserts, my crazy Adam-stan brain decided that the winner Yigit (pronounced “Yeet”) Pura would be an adorable match for Adam. He’s fun and affectionate, sweet and romantic (On the show he talked about making gourmet chocolate treats for boyfriends and in his It Gets Better video he said rainbows exploded around him the first time he kissed a boy, lol) and IMO is totally Adam’s type physically (proof in the form of a shirtless pics is HERE and HERE.) But what really made me want to write this pairing is the fact that Yigit also comes across as a very calm, confident, determined person. I remember Adam saying in an interview once that he rarely gets pursued/romanced, that he has always been the one in that role. Sooo tl;dr I really just wanted to write a sweet, sexy fic where Adam is the one who’s pursued and romanced, by a confident, out gay man who also seems to be his actual type.
Leverage, Eliot + team, Eliot confesses to the team that he's an undercover federal agent
Pepper leaves, and there’s no more pizza, and Thor’s already talked about Jane, and Tony suspects all of them realize, abruptly and simultaneously, that they actually have no idea what to do now. He is, in fact, pretty certain that they’re just a few minutes away from someone deciding to say something about the weather. It’s probably going to be him. //SPOILERS for the film.
A tiny prompt ficlet. Tony cannot, for the life of him, make a decent piece of toast. Bruce ... finds this far more amusing than he should
Feed a cold, starve a fever, and in the case of an ennui-filled Terezi Pyrope just quadruple caloric intake.
Choose lasagna as good first meal for boy humans (1) and boy trolls (1) to show you can overcome this cooking thing. Feel impugned when Rose suggests you would both eat popcorn between two slices of bread and call it a day. Advise her you only did that the once.
Feed a cold, starve a fever, and in the case of an ennui-filled Terezi Pyrope just quadruple caloric intake.
"Steve Rogers just wanted to sell good, nourishing, cheap food from his food truck. Now the crazy fusion chefs from TOBRU are calling him a hipster, the avant garde restaurant "Shield" across the street has declared war on chains, and...well, then there's Thor, who thinks Steve's habit of licking food is weird."
“Ya see, Sandy?” Bunnymund is saying. “Quit your worrying. The kid says he’s fine.” And almost, it ends there. Almost, they go their separate ways and let it stand for another four years, or another three hundred, for even Sanderson wonders whether he has been mistaken, after all. But Jack is agreeing with the Guardian of Hope, carrying obliviously onward. “Am I ever,” the boy says, fervently. “The 21st century’s great. You wouldn’t believe what people just throw out these days.” The admission comes like a wave striking rocks on a stony shore; it raises icy splashes of dread wherever its spray hits. Three horrified stares – and one that is not so terribly surprised – turn to the boy’s face. The spirit of winter falters to a stop, the reaction not the one he had anticipated. “What?” he asks.
Eliot's their hitter, and taking on any physical threats to the team is his job, but there's something beyond professionalism – even beyond the obvious fact that Eliot relishes the fight itself – in the way he puts his body between Parker or Alec and any potential threat. Alec has a good view of Eliot's back on a lot of jobs, and he reads something in the tight line of Eliot's shoulder, in the slow turn of his foot as he steps into a fighting stance. Something possessive. Series
In which Levi seems determined to spoil Eren rotten, whether he likes it or not. (For the record, Eren hadn't expected his confession to lead to this sort of thing at all).
Bitty's maple-sugar baking experiment goes even better than he planned: a 'swawesome afternoon at the Haus. (Bitty thinks about letting go of Jack, but then he asks himself what Beyoncé would do. She would not, he decides, back down.)
If Zoro had the conscience to do anything but pant hotly and swallow moans, he might have laughed at the smear of cream on the cook’s nose.
yeah, they're dysfunctional, traumatized, and occasionally murderous, but they're a family, and sometimes they even act like it. the term 'Bat-Family' does sound an awful lot like a mirror to 'Crime-Family'.
Sanji's cooking has reached a whole new level. It's almost uncanny. Especially when his thoughts and emotions somehow get into the mix along with the rest of the ingredients.
in·a·ni·tion, noun; lack of mental or spiritual vigor and enthusiasm; exhaustion caused by lack of nourishment. (In which Luffy's metabolism is faster than his doctor understands.)
Sanji didn't wonder why he gave himself the challenge. It didn't matter why. ‘Why’ was probably covered by one-upping the bloody swordsman, and maybe there were other reasons - stranger reasons - but that was the only one that really counted, right? It was decided. He was going to get Zoro to appreciate - no, love Sanji's food. If Sanji couldn't do it, then he wasn't a true sea-cook after all.
in which Tsukiyama is conned into having dinner with Hannibal and is delightfully surprised to find out that it is not in fact beef
Present Mic first spots the restaurant when it’s his turn to patrol the local neighbourhood around UA.
Hernando plans the menu for their wedding meticulously and with great devotion to all the parts that make up Lito's new world.
Jiang Yanli tended to deal with stress in one of two ways: cooking and taking care of people. Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, the Wen indoctrination camp provided many opportunities for both, although not with the people she might have expected. Wei Wuxian spent most of his days being valiant and light-hearted, trying to give them strength and courage, and Jiang Cheng followed his lead the way he always did, brave and serious and thoughtful and – well. It’s not that she didn’t appreciate both of them, because she did, but it was only that her own anxiety was more easily dealt with when she could distance herself from her current situation and focus entirely on someone else. She might have tried to take care of Jin Zixuan, but the Jin sect disciples closed ranks around him, glaring at her as if she were the one who broke off their engagement. Either way, she won’t go where she’s not wanted, and so she backed off and went elsewhere to look for someone that needed her. Luckily for her, Nie Huaisang was very loud and very vocal and very, very needy.
Nie Huaisang loves beautiful things, and plucking game birds is an exercise in destroying something beautiful. After which it's an exercise in picking off tiny bits of fluffy down that hide in the crevices and don't want to come out, and that's just annoying. He might hate doing this, but he does know how, so the motions come easily. The Nie were butchers, after all.
Under absolutely no circumstances is Runqing allowed to touch the wok.
Evgeni Malkin is a star forward and three-time Art Ross Trophy winner. Sidney Crosby is the head chef of Nouma, a Halifax restaurant that boasts two Michelin stars. They cross paths in Pittsburgh.
Malkin’s table stays until closing time, still lingering over that bottle of Beluga when Sid comes out of the kitchen to start his nightly closing routine. He goes through the same checklist of jobs he does every night after the kitchen closes but before the bar does, tries to keep his mind on the tasks at hand, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t notice Malkin’s gaze tracking his movements, if he pretended that he can’t feel the heat of Malkin’s eyes on him as he moves around behind the bar. Sid tells himself to keep his head down, but when he does look up, just to test his theory, Malkin doesn’t even bother to look away, just holds Sid’s gaze, direct and unblinking with just the tiniest hint of a smile. The thing is, Sid’s notoriously bad at this stuff. He’s never had any working gaydar that he’s aware of, and he’s been wrong – very wrong – about this kind of thing probably more often, in his life, than he’s been right. So he assures himself this is just another one of those occasions where he’s definitely reading something incorrectly, imagining things, because there’s no way the captain of the Pittsburgh Penguins is, whatever – checking him out. That would be ridiculous.
“Hello.” Zhenya looks up, and there’s a small boy on the other side of the counter. He smiles so wide that Zhenya can easily tell that he’s missing one of his two front teeth—kind of like Sasha but more adorable—and he’s got dimples in his round cheeks. In which Geno is a chocolatier and Sid really loves the truffles his son keeps buying for him.
“We were playing a pickup game on a rink in my hometown and I high sticked him in the face and knocked his front tooth out. I thought he was going to be so angry but he looked at me like he wanted to hold out his bloody tooth to me and propose.”
Sanji feels eyes on him before he even hears the footsteps, and he sighs, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the rail. He could try to run, he knows, could jump over the rail and make his escape before whoever it is is upon him, but really what would be the point? It's not like he has anywhere to escape to. A glance over his shoulder reveals one of Big Mom's Sweet Commanders, the big one with the tattoos and the scarf, and for the second time since arriving on Tottoland Sanji finds himself meeting golden eyes. The man's expression is blank, the greater part of his face hidden beneath the bulk of his scarf, but one glance at him is enough to tell this isn't going to be a friendly encounter. "Don't worry." Sanji says, leaning against the rail and bringing his cigarette to his lips, breathing deep. He blows out a cloud of smoke, not meeting the man's eyes as he looks over the lower palace, counting the lights still on in the town below. "I'm not trying to escape."
