macaroon tasting

lemme talk about Allura for a sec;

so y’all probably have seen this page from the vld comics;

But right now I wanna talk about this specifically

those cookies Allura is holding are French Macaroons which are an insanely difficult type of baked good. Everything from the delicate batter to the needed temperature regulation to the cream requires extreme precision. 

And we can see from this picture that Allura’s macaroons have pied/feet on then (the edges of the cookie) meaning that they have been baked properly. We can’t speak for the taste but it’s rare to have a good looking but bad tasting macaroons. Further, macaroons are an earth cookie. Meaning Allura had likely never made them before this. 

Allura is a baking savant confirmed

Great British Bake Off AUs
  • I keep staring at you cause you’re gorgeous and when you confront me about it I panic and say I was trying to copy your techniques cause I had no idea how to do the technical and now I’m in your kitchen and you’re wearing an adorable apron and teaching me things you don’t know I already know, because I’m a disaster and you’re an angel… this is never going to work out
  • elimination was a close call between the two of us and you feel so bad about still being in the competition that you invite me out to dinner… failure has never felt this rewarding
  • we both thought I was joking when I proposed to you the moment I tasted your macaroons but this is becoming less and less of a joke for me and what did I do to deserve this? can’t I just bake in peace?
  • I’m in charge of clean up for the show and you are by far the messiest contestant I have ever had the displeasure to clear up after… you’re also apparently adequate enough at baking that this has been going on for weeks now so this is becoming  problem… the moment I work up the nerve to talk to you about it you exhibit the level of assholishness I have come to expect from you and smile attractively, apologize, and then do the exact same fucking thing
  • we both failed miserably on the first day so we decided to get drunk and walk about town and dear god you look pretty in the moonlight
  • we live a short transport ride away from each other and you keep insisting I come over and try things for you during the week between shows… are you hitting on me or do you lack any other friends? 
  • I feel mildly annoyed that I’m the one leaving but you’re the one clinging on to me for dear life and crying, but you smell nice so you at least have that going for you
  • you stole -i’m sorry- “accidentally took” my pastry from the freezer and used it, and I have held a grudge against you ever since that just seems to grow stronger every time you try to apologize and damn you for being a good baker and making it to the final alongside me… wait what do you mean you’re helping me sort out a disastrous bake? this is the final! go do your own thing!

blaazemc-deactivated20161016  asked:

Can we have a scenario of Laito falling in love with his best friend?


Her lips were all over his. His mouth ached with the sour scent of liquor. It was passionate, hungry, lustful, but empty.

Watching made his heart twinge in the strangest of ways. Laito turned to the girl who flirted empty words and flirted back with double the dose. Emptiness begets emptiness. A few teasing touches and the girl, reeking with the smoke of cigarettes and her blood tainted by medication, was an easy catch. Sure, this was a game they would often play, who can manage to get one to fuck them first, but lately… His mind unraveled, attempting to explain his irritation. He fucked her easily in the back alleyway, no sweet words, not caresses, just empty. Her moans were empty. So loud, it hurt his ears. He imagined the girl in the bar, the girl who managed to scram her way into his head without a single touch, a single flirtatious word just by being his friend, in his arms instead. He groaned as he emptied himself in her sweaty body. She pulled her panties up before thanking him for ‘the sweet fuck, love~” and stalk off.

Instead of going into the bar to gloat his winnings, he laid against the bricks. He refused to acknowledge the fluttering in his chest just at the thought of her name…


“…Fu, I won~ Yippie right?“

She scraped herself down beside him, looking at him concerned.

“Really prince charming, I expected your lips to be curved upwards three ways to Sunday. Let me guess, her blood was shit.”

“Maybe~ Her blood tasted like those awful Cuban cigarettes.”

“Not everyone can taste like macaroons,” she snorted softly, that light sound only uncased his tension.


“You’re weird today.”

“I know.”

“Hey… Bitch-chan…?“

It coursed like rushing blood in his mouth in his head. If only he could taste her lips, he suddenly pulled her close, smashing his lips to his. A sharp slap.

“Pervert! I thought we agreed to not fuck around with each other, keep it real. I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but call me when you snap out of it-“”

“I love you!”

She stared, her body structure tenser than metal shaking with the might of an earthquake.

“Don’t sell me that shit. I’m no regular ‘bitch-chan-‘“

He griped her shoulders tightly, the words spilling out. Words of what he thought about her, how he couldn’t get her off his mind, how she was to him all the bitch-chans he fucked, it was driving him off the road with a strange anxiety. She let him continue before his words eventually faltered away into emptiness. She then gently removed his hands from her shoulder; her smile was bright, faker than her kiss in the bar.

“I don’t love you. Bye bye~ Be sure to delete my contact number from your list~ I am sure it won’t hurt the 500 streak you have too bad.”

She walked away, her form simply at ease as he watched. He was just another guy to her, just that alcohol ridden human in the bar. He let her go. Love wasn’t real. Not really. Despite the way his heart pounded.