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aforrestofstuff · 4 years

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I'd like to know if you have any cooking skills headcanons!! Like, from who's able to make a absolute meal to who burns microwaved instant noodles.

I’ve done a few individual headcanons about cooking before, but I think it’s time for a refresher. You could call this... the main course.

Okay, enough of that bullshit. Here’s the hcs. Thanks for your ask, anon! ❤️❤️💞

Disclaimer: this shit is crack as fuck because I have very strong feelings about cooking lmfao. FOH don’t interact.

Tornado of Terror: She’d find a way to burn ice cream, honestly. She tries so hard (by god she tries) but her meals always come out as a convoluted mess with ingredients that have no reason being together. She eats her steaks well done and boils hamburgers. It’s a nightmare. She doesn’t really spend too much time in the kitchen, however, because she knows she sucks at cooking and because of this, makes 90% of her diet consist of takeout. But if she did spend more of her day cooking, she’d probably discover the recipe to meth accidentally. It’s that bad.

Silverfang: Stubborn old grandpa way of cooking. He’s got a handful of recipes that have been passed down for generations and he’s gonna carry those fuckers to his grave. When Garou was living at the dojo, the little bastard would try to make some changes to these recipes and Bang had to will every molecule in his arthritis-riddled body to not RKO this kid (not really, Bang wouldn’t hurt a fly). But I digress. He’s a decent cook, knows all the fundamentals and all of that shit.

Atomic Samurai: Can’t cook or bake for shit although he, of course, talks himself up like he can. The extent of his cooking knowledge is only within the realm of “shit you can roast over a campfire when your cheap ass can’t scrape together enough coin to pay the electricity bill”. But now that he’s got that S-Class paycheck and three other disciples to freeload off of, they pretty much cater to his every food-related need. He’s useless in the kitchen. Utterly fucking useless.

Child Emperor: Doesn’t know how to cook (little bastard ain’t even tall enough to reach the stove imo) but luckily he’s got that PHAT BRAIN so he can easily just build a Gordon Ramsey bot 3000 to replace his incompetence in the kitchen. His diet consists of Dino nuggets and microwaveable noodles so it’s not like he’s doing the world a great disservice by not learning how to cook properly.

Metal Knight: Same as Child Emperor except he’s a rich bastard and programs his bots to make that fancy shit with only the finest ingredients. He’s got enough cash from doing black market tech trades and building up his robo-army that this motherfucker could snort caviar for fun. He’s a real pompous asshole about it.

King: His mom taught him to cook a few things, nothing serious. He’s one of those dudes that doesn’t really know how to make much, but the few dishes that he does know how to cook are fucking BOMB. He’s got a cast iron skillet for making pancakes and everything, bitch is already halfway to being a chef himself. Other than that, however, he’s a ramen monster. His blood is practically pre-packaged bone broth.

Zombieman: I’ve said this in a previous hc but he’s a damn good cook. One problem though: he only knows how to make single servings of everything because he eats alone almost all the time. He specializes in meats. Bitch is a carnivore. He bought himself a set of those 500-dollar butcher knives so he can carve up cuts like a monster. He hemorrhages cash into fancy wood chips so he can get that smoky flavor juuuuust right. He’s got an Outdoor Chef setup on his patio. My mans is living the DREAM.

Drive Knight: He can eat but does he really need to? His cooking expertise is popping a new battery in. There you go.

Pig God: Oh my god if this man’s kitchen isn’t Michelin-Star quality. He eats a lot and he cooks a lot, it’s only natural. He’s got an indoor grill and pot chandelier and buys industrial-sized buckets of pickles and roast beef by the cow and— okay he just has a lot of food, alright? And he’s got that PHAT S-Class paycheck so my boy probably has a whole walk-in fridge just to put all the fucking food he eats. Bonus points if he hires a dishboy to work and a contractor to implement a three-sink dish station with “Clean-Rinse-Sanitize” stickers slapped on the steel, lol. But yeah, he cooks for 500 people at a time because he eats enough for 500 people at a time. Gotta maintain that figure, you know what I’m saying?

Superalloy Darkshine: He has. Oh my god— he has a full shelf dedicated to just. DOZENS OF JARS of whey protein. He has two blenders: one for fruit smoothies and one for protein shakes. His kitchen? Spotless. He knows how to cook and he eats like a bodybuilder (because he is one, duh) so he’s got that fridge STOCKED at all times. He cleans like he’s getting paid for it because nothing feels better than wiping down a gas stove until that bitch is spotless. However, his taste is garbage. He can throw down in the kitchen but does it taste good? No. Sometimes the ultra-healthy alternative to something isn’t always the greatest. He’s grown accustomed to putting zucchini in his cakes and almost damn well likes the texture of it, but don’t invite this guy to the potluck because he WILL show up with a vegetable nightmare that’s sure to make even vegans gag. Sorry bud, but nobody likes soy bacon.

Watchdog Man: furry ass.

Flashy Flash: I’ve said this before in a previous hc, but he’s pescatarian. He grew up on a coastal town before being sold of to the ninja village like a goddamned carpet and now fish is the only meat he eats. His cooking ability is about as good as one would expect from a homesless ninja. Like Atomic Samurai, he can throw it down over the campfire and still find a way to make a decent dish (in both presentation and taste) despite having limited knowledge and resources to work with. Bitch can whip up a five-star meal with some branches, a fish, and half a carrot like it was second nature. That’s about it though. He’s useless in an actual kitchen.

Genos: It’s canon. He’s a housewife. He only knows how to make the select few dishes that play an integral part in Saitama’s diet, though (because Genos can eat but he doesn’t really need to, so he only does it when he and Saitama are sharing a meal). Those dishes include things like: actual garbage. He cooks shit food. It’s not his fault. Saitama just eats like a fucking twat. There’s rats that live in the dumpster outside the restaurant I work in that have a better diet than him. Genos just works with what the poor bastard’s got and has gained a pretty mediocre grasp on cooking because of it. If he wanted to, though, he could easily be the best chef in all the land. Too bad he’s more focused on being an ultra-powerful speed demon.

Metal Bat: Tries his absolute best to cook healthy meals for him and Zenko when he almost always resorts to just popping a frozen pizza in the oven and calling it a day. I’ve said this before in a previous hc, but he eats his shit BURNT. Bitch like his steak well done, his yolks grey, and his chicken vaporized. The only exception to this is sushi because there really is no other way to enjoy it other than having it raw. Trust me, though. If there was a way to burn the fuck out of sashimi while still having it be sashimi, he’d find a way to do it and like it. But yeah, as I said: he sucks ass at cooking. He’s tried the tutorials, he’s bought the skillets, he’s sharpened the knives, but he just can’t fucking do it.

Tanktop Master: Same as Superalloy. They bond over gross-ass ultra-healthy recipes that only they enjoy. The Tanktop Gang loves him but they always kindly refuse to eat over at his house because they know he’s gonna try to make them ingest a broccoli loaf or some shit. He’s not too strict about his diet, though. He’ll chill out and have a pizza every once and a while, but only when he’s hanging out with the homies.

Puri-Puri Prisoner: He has a job in prison where he helps out in the kitchen for seventy-five cents an hour, but that’s about the extent of it. He’s got the bare basics down and could put together a decent meal for date night if he really tried (and had a damn kitchen to work with). On top of that, he can throw down some tasty prison food recipes, hand-crafted from the brick box itself. Ramen pad Thai, anyone?

Amai Mask: he’s rich as fuck, why does he need to cook? Bitch hired a chef and now all he does it drink skim milk and eat food from the top shelf. He couldn’t fry an egg if his life depended on it. Poor bastard doesn’t even know what a whisk is. And don’t even get me started on how much of a slob he is. The ten-minute process of making a single plate of spaghetti will have his kitchen in such a disgusting state that it’ll take him and a trusty Mister Clean Magic Eraser five hours just to clean it up. That is, if he even has the basic human decency to pick up after himself. He’ll probably just hire someone to do for him and then tip them a crisp 100-dollar bill for their troubles, only to make an even worse mess tomorrow.

Iaian: I’ve said this before in a previous hc, but yes: he can cook. It’s nothing special. He’s got a suburban dad sense of cooking where he, like King, can only make a select few dishes but makes those dishes taste magical. He’s got 0 utensils and shit kitchen to work with (because Kami’s place is probably like, centuries old on account of him still being a Samurai), but boy can Iaian whip up a feast like no other despite all that. It’s all protein-packed flavor bombs that look simple in comparison to, say, Zombieman or Metal Knight’s food, but it still tastes good all the same. Kama eats off of his plate all the time and it used to annoy him but they’ve grown so close that they might as well share forks at this point.

Okamaitachi: Can’t really cook, but they are a baking god. I don’t know much about baking but I know they’ve got a cupboard dedicated to their plethora of sourdough starters. They buy yeast by the pound and make enough bread to feed entire armies some days. Whatever the gang doesn’t eat, they donate it to the local homeless shelter and make it a habit to go out of their way performing good deeds that don’t always involve sword fighting (something Kami insists he instilled into them via his teachings— which is bullshit. Kama is just naturally good-hearted and sweet).

Bushidrill: Can’t cook or bake for shit but like Atomic Samurai and Flash, can throw it down on the campfire. Don’t let this man near any turkeys or pigs because he will spitroast the fuck out of them.

Fubuki: Okay, not only is she a great cook but she’s as dogmatic as a coked-out head chef. She and the Blizzard Group sometimes cook together in her massive kitchen (she poured all of her measly paycheck into it because by god, if her apartment doesn’t have a kitchen fit for a chef then it’s not worth living in), and she’ll be barking orders like a damn crow. She’s got the two-grand knife set, cast-iron everything, bronze accents on the sink, and the ability to deglaze a pan without starting a fire. She’s a natural. If she cooks for you, then that’s how you know she likes you. All in all, her food tastes and looks great. She’s a bit low on funds on account of being only Class-B, so she sometimes takes little shortcuts when plating her dishes, like using celery leaves in place of parsley and all that jazz.

Saitama: I’ve already said that his diet is absolute shit and part of that is due to being poor, but I will show mercy and say that he’s a decent cook. He only makes what he knows he’s gonna like and doesn’t leave any room for experimentation unless his budget allows it (which isn’t often). His kitchen only has the bare essentials. Genos has offered to buy him more equipment and even renovate the damn thing for him but Saitama refuses each time because then he’d have a bigass kitchen just for making a poor man’s omurice, and that would be a waste. His talent, though? Making a perfect omelet. He can fold the egg like a sheet with no tears and no brown spots. It tastes heavenly.

Mumen Rider: Ultra-safe in the kitchen. He doesn’t even own a knife sharpener because he’s clumsy enough to know he’ll cut himself the moment he even tries to use it. His pot handles all have coverings and he’s watched all of the food safety and fire safety videos out there. He could give a goddamned seminar on it. Food-wise, he’s a decent home cook. Nothing special. He does, however, share Superalloy and Tanktop’s nasty habit of over healthy-ing everything to oblivion and making it a tasteless, vegetative mess. It doesn’t matter if you invite him to the potluck or not because he’ll bring a cauliflower pizza anyway and y’all better fucking enjoy it or he’ll start crying.

Sonic: The same as Flashy Flash, minus the pescatarianism. He’d butcher a pig without blinking an eye, and often uses his katana in cooking (even though it poses like, 87 different safety hazards and is most definitely health violation). He can forage quite well and has taken a liking to wild mushrooms and berries over the years. It’s gotten so natural to him that he now knows by heart the specific time of year in which the wild berries are ripest, and which species of salmon inhabit certain streams on any given day.

Garou: Would burn water. End of story. His cooking is so bad and dangerous that everyone thinks he’s an arsonist when he really just starts fires on accident. Don’t let this fucker near a stove, for the love of god.

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mininori · 5 years

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[ There were a lot of good ones for them but this is a classic ] Prompt; ‘I’m not sure if I want to hug you or slap you.’

The light from the fridge was the only light that surroundedthe farmhouse in the dead of the night.

2 AM; a perfect time for snacks. Well, if one was pregnant.Which Minori just happened to be five months pregnant. The thought of a snackhadn’t left her mind for what felt like hours. She tried sleeping to avoid hercravings. She tried listening to music to help alleviate the cravings. Shetried water, milk, whatever. This wasn’t even the first time, or the secondtime. Third, fourth, fifth…. It seemed like ever since Minori had gotten pastthe first trimester of throwing up, gagging, crying, and having no appetite,she was being woken up in the middle of the night not by Chase forgetting toput the heater on a certain temperature or Chase holding her too tightly, butthe visions of disgusting meals that only a pregnant person would eat- likethis pregnant woman.

Hazel orbs fixated on a few pieces of cheese- no, that wouldmake her sick again. And maybe she would throw up? Chase had brought home somesoup from the bar- yet, it had meat in it and Minori only ate seafood and nowwas having to eat chicken. Cut up mangoes with garlic salt? No, hersister-in-law (who DIDN’T have children and said multiple times at their sexreveal party a few weeks ago that she and Miller would NEVER have children, sowhy was she telling Minori ANYTHING) said that it would cause her to have acidreflux. Condiments, leftovers from dinner two nights ago, some of her ownvegetables, the gross smoothie that Jin claimed (according to Chase) was forkeeping down food- yet it was the exact opposite. Food the pregnancy farmerdidn’t want- food the babies didn’t want too.

Babies.

This was a wanted pregnancy, these babies were wanted. Minori poked the top of her pregnant belly as she tried to wake one ofthe twins up. Twins. Goddess, they were having twins. “What do you two evenwant to eat?” She asked her stomach, asif the children inside knew and could answer. The only answer she got was fromone of them, the more active twin – who they just found out was a girl (theother, the one they dubbed as the quiet one despite moving just a little lesswas a boy; two of each. She totally didn’t cry to her mother about it.)- as she kicked from her side of the womb gently.

As if telling her just from the kick itself, Minori grabbedthe small container of mushrooms. For fucks- “Really?” She looked down at thebump. “Really? You two want me to cook mushrooms in the dead of the night whiledaddy is asleep?” Saying “daddy” felt weird, but she had to start somewhere. Her eyes wandered around, looking forsomething to use the mushrooms. “Where did daddy put the barbecue?” She askedher stomach again. It wasn’t like they could talk back, and if they could, thenthat’d be trouble. They’d tell Chase all about the cravings they were forcingher to have and-

“Didn’t Marian tell you to stop going through the fridge inthe middle of the night?”

Minori looked up from the fridge door just as the voicespoke up, spooked even though there was only one person who it could be. Sheturned, looking over at the man with messy orange hair, an unwashed t-shirt,and the ugliest sweats that she had tried to get him to get rid of for the pasttwo-ish years. “He didn’t say that.” Minori responded as she absent mindly restedher hand on top of her bump; a habit she recently picked up. It was small-small for someone who was having twins- but it was there. The bump was there,as clear as the day.

The babies were there, regardless of how big the bump was.

Chase let out a sigh as he turned the kitchen lights on. Thebright light illuminated the kitchen with post it notes covered on the fridgeof what to buy, what not to bring home from work (Chase), and what time thedoctor’s appointments were. Few boxes sat on the kitchen counter, filled with necessitiesfor the babies they hadn’t put away in the unfinished nursery (despite everyonesaying that the twins should and will sleep with them for the first fewmonths). Next to the fridge just happened to be a countdown to how many dayswere left until the arrival of them. Everyone they knew had the countdown-Minori’s parents, Marian, Yolanda, Harvey… Everyone who needed to know on thatday in June had it. Bosses, family members, the doctor who was meant to deliverthem of course needed to know.

They’d be lucky to make it to June at 36 weeks exactly. Buthigh risk pregnancies rarely ever made it that far, according to Marian. Therewere worries of the twins coming early due to Minori’s height and size, preeclampsia,bed rest was a constant threat looming over their heads. The previousmiscarriages just proved another factor to consider this pregnancy, this wanted,healthy pregnancy ‘high risk’.

Days were marked with red on when the twins would beconsidered healthy to be born. Weeks were counted. Calories, weight, any sideeffects, her work; all measured.

“Why are you up?” Minori asked, as she tried to avoid thequestion Chase asked her from before. No, really, she was actually avoiding it.Completely. To get it out of her mind, to leave the

“Bambi.” Ah, the perfect excuse. It was true that the catbecame more attached to Chase in the past few months as he had to do everythingfor her. And, well, that when Minori left the bedroom for any reason (morningsickness, couldn’t sleep, cravings such as these), the ragdoll would changepositions from sleeping on the loveseat in their bedroom to sleeping on top ofChase. “But I could ask the same about you.” Chase crossed his arms against hischest as he rested the weight of his body on the counter. “Why are you up,Mimi?”

She thought, she actually thought for a moment. A goodexcuse could be used for this moment. “Babies.” Okay, so she blurted out thetruth. Still holding the package of mushrooms in one hand and her stomach withthe other. One of the babies kicked right where her hand was. She didn’t carefor what reason, either from hungry or just reminding her they were there. “That’swhy I have these.” She held the mushrooms up high. “I wanted to cook these withbarbeque sauce and I wasn’t going to wake you up cause you didn’t get homeuntil late and plus, why would I wake you up?”

Her rant was interrupted by the sound of Chase laughing. Hislaughter was obnoxious, loud in the dead of the night, yet felt relaxing. Likea weight lifted off her shoulders. But, it was annoying. Minori could onlyfrown as Chase continued his fit of laughter. “You’re telling me-“Chasewheezed. “You wanted to eat mushrooms at two AM? And that’s why you snuck out?”

“And barbeque sauce!”

“You’re not helping your case, Mimi!” Chase exclaimed as hegrabbed the package from his wife’s hand to her dismay. “Besides, you can’tcook?! Were you not going to wake me up while you burned our house down forsome mushrooms?” Yeah, no. She wasn’t going to eat any of this. Not today, nottomorrow, not anytime.

Minori pouted as she watched Chase put the food on top ofthe cabinet. High enough where she could never grab it. “I’m not sure if I wanna hug you or slap you.”If she wasn’t pregnant, or at least didn’t have her stomach sticking out, shewould have climbed up there now, spat her tongue at him, and hopped downwithout any hesitation. But she had the stomach. She had the babies.

Chase rolled his eyes, not even letting his wife’s commentget to him. This wasn’t even the first time she said something like this. “Mimi,you can’t be eating this stuff at 2 AM.”

Minori let out another huff. “The babies wanted something andI couldn’t sleep!”

“Mims.”

“Chase!”

The chef could onlylet out a sigh. There was no use winning any of this. He would say one thing,she may eat the mushrooms raw to prove him a point. And if he said somethingelse, she may start crying about getting “fat”. “Come on, let’s head to back tobed.” Chase said as he wrapped his hands wife’s midsection. It was so differentfrom before, larger, wider, but something they wished for. She knew how hewanted a family- how he wished for the family he never had. “I’ll cook you breakfasttomorrow.” He grinned at her as his smile reached purple hues. He removed hishands from her, beckoning her back to the comfort of their bed for sleep.

Maybe a few hours in Chase’s arms wouldn’t be that bad.

Besides, she always slept better with his arms around heranyway. She took her husband’s hands,cuts still fresh from his hours at work, following him back upstairs to theirbedroom. “Lily and Logan are gonna be pissed you won’t let them eat.” She saidas her hand, once again, found itself resting on top of her stomach.

“Yeah, no, we aren’t naming them that.”

#chase to the finish #drabble #not the one u asked but i couldnt stop thinking of pregnant mimi being well. not mimi.#i have a lot of hcs now hehehehe

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