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After the pair’s last attempt at baking, Jackson decided it might be best if he took the reins….and used a recipe. Either way he knew they had to make it up to duece. The poor guy wouldn’t eat chocolate for days. As such, the monster soon found himself with a cookbook in hand skimming through recipes.
Crème boo-lée? Too tricky. Brownies? He wasn’t going to risk it. Cake? Eh. After a while of browsing he found himself landing upon cinna-moan swirls.
He was wise enough to have grabbed some pre-made dough. Ignoring holt’s complaints that the pair were “cheating at cooking” (if that was even possible), he brandished a rolling pin using it to flatten the dough. A quaint piano tune played in his headphones, and he found himself tapping his foot along to the beat.
Although his other half was the more musically inclined of the two, Jackson also enjoyed the small range of music he could listen to. Thank goodness for boo-tube’s many piano covers, that made enjoying music actually possible for the teen.
Shifting towards the scale he had borrowed from Frankie, he measured boo-tter, a jar of sugar and cinna-moan, before mashing them together to form the filling. He repeatedly pressed, mixed and crushed in order to make the mixture a smooth as possible. Before spreading a layer over top the freshly rolled batter. Jax found himself pushing the spread around back and forth in an attempt to create an even layer, yet no matter what it seemed futile.
Giving up he took ahold of the side of the dough, folding a side in on itself. From there he pressed it into a rounded edge and began to peal the dough from the side and roll. Rolling and spiralling over and over, in order to create a rounded roll. Well as round as possible…. He then used a trick he had seen on the cooking shows holt seemed to love. Grabbing some string he tied it around the roll pulling it tight to slice a piece off, to still maintain the rounded shape that would be lost with a knife. Sure it didn’t entirely work, but he was sure it was better than cutting it with a knife. The pieces did end up differently sized but it wasn’t a big deal. After all they would hopefully change shape in the oven anyways. Speaking of…
The fire imp tugged at drawers and cabinets. It was rare for Jackson to cook, much less bake. As such he found himself lost in the small kitchen. Every dorm came with a tiny communal kitchen. The checkered tiles that covered the walls were tinted with age, and the black countertops were covered in flour. Nestled between units, sat the trusty oven. It had seen many a dish in its lifetime, withstanding even the worst of cooks. As such he had some faith the dough dessert would be fine. His attention soon turned to the grey cupboards that hovered aloft, over head the unit’s and cabinets.
Said cabinets were built in, with countertops rested upon their shoulders, they made for great storage in the quaint space. Wait…Were the baking trays in the cabinet? No just bowls and plates. Maybe…Were they in the cupboard? No just mugs and cups. How about the other cupboard? No just cleaning supplies and kitchen towel. What if…Were they in the drawers? No just cutlery and baking paper.
‘Hang on, baking paper?’Jackson buffered for a moment before opening the pack and tearing a sheet off. This would be put a top the baking tray. If he could find one, that is.
After too long of searching, something caught his eye. A small compartment overtop the oven. Of course the trays were kept in the oven. He felt holt cackle, the ‘normie’ entertained by his alter ego’s strife. With a sigh he plucked a tray from the stack, lining it with the grease proof paper, and placing the treats upon it. He wondered why the trays were so big, seeing as all of the cinna-moan swirls fit neatly in the middle, side by side, next to each other. As the oven was preheating, he pondered the thought, before grabbing the tray and slipping it inside.
Plopping himself into a chair; he picked up a book to pass the time as he waited out the oven timer. He wasn’t sure which book he had grabbed. After skimming through however, he soon realised the book was none other than Jekyll and Hyde. The monster chirped out a laugh at that, his gorgon roommate had bought the book for the two as a birthday gift the one year. They had laughed their heads off over how inaccurate it was. For a normie classic, it was incredibly foolish at times. Despite its crude attempt at accuracy, he found himself engrossed in the book. To say it was well written was an understatement, how could he help his growing interest, when the story was just so enticing.
Stirred only by a slight beeping noise, Jackson carefully discarded the book in favour of retrieving the treats from their fiery resting place. He hopped up from his seat, swiftly strolling to the oven. After fumbling with the timer for longer than he should have, the monster crouched in order to reach the low shelf, cracking open the oven door. Blue hands reached out, soon clasping onto a warm tray of cinna-moan swirls. Dualtone eyes skimmed over their surfaces, checking for burnt buns or any other deformities. Unfortunately it was hard to tell, seeing as all of the rolls had merged together in the oven, forming a blob of dough and cinna-moan spread. Despite this, it seemed alright from the outside, if not slightly burnt around the edges.
Content with his work, he transferred the bun to a plate, leaving the still hot tray inside the sink. While they cooled he would work on the icing. Taking ahold of the bag of icing sugar, he eyeballed a rough amount, pouring it into a bowl. Next came water. After filling a cup, he slowly drip fed the liquid into the bowl, whisking and stirring the mixture as he did so. Every so often he paused, scooping up some of the icing before letting it cascade from the spoon he was using- to check the consistency. Too thick? More water. This process went on until it was slightly runny, so that the mixture would drizzle nicely atop the cinna-moan swirl.
Lifting the bowl from its resting place, he held it with one hand, his other wrapped around the handle of a spoon, lifting the mixture and drizzling in small amounts. Zig zagging as he did so to create sugary stripes across the top of the bun. Back and forth, side to side. Having used most of the icing, and happy with the finished product- he moved it to a side to cool, taking the chance to clean.
Jackson could have sworn he spotted a spray bottle somewhere within the kitchen. Within less time than his first exploration, he managed to retrieve a roll of kitchen towel, antibacterial spray, and a dustpan and brush. The monster threw a glance around the room, sizing up the mess. There was still flour on the floor from last night’s mistakes. Flour, icing and other dough trimmings lined the countertops. And then there was the washing up.
‘That’s not so bad’ he thought to himself, before deciding on a plan of action. Counters, floor and then dishes. Grabbing the spray with a slight flourish, he then turned to his phone, scrolling for a short while to find a song. Landing on a piano cover of an old pop song, he turned his attention once more to the beast ahead of him. Collecting the rolling pin, the dough’s packaging, and the scale, he deposited them in their designated space. To the sink went the rolling pin. The packaging found a home within the bin. As for the scale, it was gently placed atop the table to be cleaned off later. Now that the side was cleared of rubble he brandished the spray, adding a generous amount of antibac. he tore a sheet or two of kitchen towel, folding it and swiping at the side. Moving in circular motions, and scrubbing vigorously if the situation called for it- he managed to clean the surface. Jackson didn’t stress over the stray clouds of flour that cascaded to the floor, seeing as he could clear it afterwards. The monster shifted himself to the next counter, using the now clean surface, to shift the bun to. Another layer of spray and swipes, found the cinna-moan spread erased from the counter. Gone were the powdered remains of spilled icing sugar. All that was left was the sheen of a clean side. After repeating the process for all of the countertops, he just needed to clean the table. Before Jax could do that however, he would need to clean the scale. Once more he tore a sheet of kitchen towel, spraying the antibac into the papery material, instead of directly spraying it upon the scale. In one smooth motion he cleared the scale of flour and icing sugar; placing it upon a side to be returned to their patchwork peer.
It didn’t take long for the teen to finish tidying up the table. Nor to return objects to their original location. Luckily it took even less time to locate a dustpan and broom, as he began to sweep. Jackson worked methodically, compacting the dirt and flour to a single corner. Chairs were lifted to sweep beneath them; to be replaced soon after as he began on the next. The small green dustbin was shifted, revealing dust prime for sweeping. Methodically humming as he did so, the blue skinned teen scooped all of the dirt into the dust pan, depositing it within the bin. Although it took more than one attempt to collect all of the dirt, he managed. Mentally ticking the task off, he rolled up his red spiked sleeves. Cranking the dials of the taps, water poured into the washing up boo-wl. Dish soap, and a sponge found themselves thrown into the mix, as jackson dunked his hands into the water, heating it with his magic. Once optimum temperature, he began to work his way through the dishes.
~~~~
it had been a long day for duece. he had spent all day stuck inside, since he ‘wasn’t well enough to casket ball practice’; admittedly it wasn’t a big deal, since he’d be able to go back to training tomorrow-but his point still stood. the gorgon had major cabin fever. so when clawd offered to take a walk with him, he leapt at the opportunity. Sure the werewolf could be a bit distracted-namely by anything that so much as moved- it was still better than being inside.
between the park, shops and lunch; duece had lost track of time, simply enjoying fanging out with his friend. even though clawd refused to let him do much more than throw a ball. as they walked back to the dorms the pit had slipped into a smooth rhythm of conversation, discussing the upcoming halloween. the had a little over a month to prepare, and everyone in the school was brimming with excitement for it. they were still eagerly chatting when duece walked into his dorm.
Caught of guard by the smell of fresh cooked treats, his step faltered. Clawd, however was not as wise to hesitate, being blessed to have never eating holt’s cooking- and pushed past the gorgon.
“Man! something smells good? Dook did you cook?” the wolf exclaimed, eying up the large bun, left to sit upon the side.
“nah i think that was my roommate… holt? jax? you in?” duece hollered as he peaked his head into the living room. he squinted at the room, sometimes his shades could be both a blessing and a curse.
~~~
Engrossed in his book, jackson didn’t hear his roommate enter. nor did he notice the gorgon glancing around for him. his alter ego, did not share this affliction however, declaring to the other, “oi book brain, duece wants you”. He blinked, shutting his book he slipped out of his room and into the kitchen. Met with the sight of a strange monster practically drooling over his cooking, and duece leaning in the doorway of the living room. Jackson knocked his knuckles on the wall, since his footsteps proved to quiet to pick up on. The stranger’s ears perked, and his roommate whipped his head around.
“you can have some if you want” jackson gestured towards the plated treat, that deuce’s furry friend had been watching intently. Said monster looked blankly at jackson- an all too common occurrence. unfortunately few monsters actually understood sign, and even less could respond. with a slight sigh, he took ahold of the plate, before holding it out to the two monsters. Duece looked sceptically at the dish, before concluding it looked more edible than the pancakes- still he wavered. His friend however, instantly tore off a piece, tossing it into his mouth happily. the gorgon shot out a warning that fell on deaf ears, both litterally and metaphorically, as jackson didn’t catch what he said, and the werewolf didn’t seem to care. Said monster did seem to care when he ate it however. His expression unreadable momentarily, before crumpling into disgust.
Duece recoiled from the plate slightly; clearly not wanting to risk it after holt’s pancake shenanigans. Taking the hint he returned the plate to its place upon the side, opting to offer out a glass of water. In the process of looking for a glass, he found himself opening a cupboard storing different ingredients and….a bag of sugar? It was open so it was clearly in use. Jackson could have sworn they kept the sugar in a jar. He looked over to find the jar, rotating it in search of a label. maybe they just had two separate sugar containers? unfortunately he was wrong. very wrong. he had used salt instead of sugar. he threw a guilty glance back at the werewolf, who seemed noticeably less upbeat in his conversation with duece.
Returning the evidence to its hiding place; he found a glass and filled it with water, offering it to the stranger. A thanks was offered as the glass was downed. Taking that as his cue to leave, he slipped away, relinquishing control to Holt.
~~~
A crackle of flames tore across his face, as blue skin turned to ash and fell away, carving into his body to reveal pale skin and dip dyed hair. As the fire licked his skin- slowly fading away, he removed the fire shaped glasses from his face. He folded them up, slipping them into the pocket of his ochre checked shirt. Slightly disoriented, he headed towards the first door he spotted, hoping it was his room.
Despite living in the dorms for a while, holt had never quite got to grips with the layout. every door looked the same to him; so it wasn’t a suprise when he found himself in the kitchen. what was a surprise however, was the weird guy he found himself locked into a staring contest with. He blinked shooting duece a “what the hell” look. Said gorgon took the hint and introduced the hairy dude.
“clawd, holt. holt clawd. we good?”
before holt could protest or question his roommate further, a chipper yet gruff voice butted in.
“you have TWO roomates???” the blonde realised that the expression he had glimpsed a mere moment before was confusion, as clawd cocked his head to the side, sizing him up in wide eyed curiosity. Holt stifled a laugh, an evil plan forming.
“what do you mean two roomates? it’s always been just me and duece?”
Catching onto the ploy, the aforementioned roommate chipped in with.
“yeah dude what are you on about?”
duece continued the joke, turning to clawd with mock concern. The werewolf’s jaw was practically on the floor as he threw a worried glance around the room.
“dont tell me this place is….haunted?!?”
he whispered in hushed tones, “because who gave me that weird cakEEAHHHH” clawd yelped in alarm as duece slammed his hand’s onto the wolf’s shoulders.
At the sight of it the roomates burst into peels of laughter. Duece still had one hand on Clawd’s shoulder, hanging onto it for dear life as he chuckled; with holt bent over, pressing two hands into his knees as he struggled from breath between bursts of laughter. Their victim however was not as pleased, sticking his chin up in faux offence- though the act was really to hide the danger grin that swiftly spread across his face.
“come on be honest with me! how the hell did bloodgood of all people allow the three of you to room together?” Clawd questioned after the laughter had died down.
“oh jackson? yeah he’s holt’s evil clone.” came the nonchalant response from duece. Despite how fake it sounded, duece wasn’t lying. sure jackson wasn’t really an evil clone…but it wasn’t a lie per se. more like an exaggeration of the truth. despite this answer, clawd still couldn’t be appeased.