#My rice burnt

[morally-gay584]

sometimes being a girl is just eating carrots with italian dressing because recreating the nibelheim incident due to being denied your food 5 times is wrong

[figofswords]

i love to cook and i love food! i love cooking and i love eating! i love making food and then eating it! wait what do you mean i have to do this three times a day every day for my entire life and also dishes and grocery shopping and

[c0rvidbones]

orange soda!

[dayurno]

why is it that whenever i get on tumblr u always update literally a minute before … my subconscious dayurno radar is insane

SUBCONSCIOUS DAYURNO RADAR like a shark slowly swimming towards you…. i dont know maybe we’re connected. should we kiss

[curiosity-killed]

Attempting to make adas polo and realizing a few important lessons

I don’t know how to parboil rice

If a recipe calls for 3 C of rice…use 3C rice

Big vibes of “this is intermediate, I’m a beginner”

I am a coward (see image below)

[ALT ID: A screenshot of a recipe that reads “Test by licking your finger and quickly tapping near the base of the pot.”]

[rev-velvet]

Bro yall don't understand if Rice loses I WILL cry this time. I love white rice with my whole being it's actually unreal like if it was which one would you spend a majority of your life eating it would rice and Im not kidding.

[r0bee]

Ate good last night 😍😍‼️‼️🔥🔥

[natelia-aldelliz]

Guys... Listen I know I said I'd draw something for valentine's day but I had a bit of a rough week sooooo I'm just going to write it out instead, maybe I'll finish drawing it some day, maybe not. It's behind a show more because it's long.

(also there's talks about having sex but no actual sex, and like, general warnings about Ghost's backstory but it's very vague here).

Soap was hanging around outside, trying to bring himself to do something, anything. But the weather was nice for a February day, and the sun was out, and it was making him feel like a cat basking in the heat.

An arm wrapped itself around his shoulders, a huge body suddenly weighing on him. Ghost.

Soap hummed comfortably. This day was getting better by the minute. Any chill he might have felt from being outside in a tank top out of pure Scottish spite was instantly soothed.

Simon often times saw himself as a cold man, freezing to the touch, hidden behind a layer of ice. A proper little Elsa, Soap almost snorted out loud. The truth was that while yes, his fingers and toes' temperature was sometimes abysmal, especially in bed, the rest of him was the warmest place Johnny had ever been.

"I've got something for you in our room," Ghost whispered against his throat, making Soap shiver.

Simon had begun calling Soap's room theirs a few weeks ago and Johnny couldn't have enough of it. He was so in love it genuinely hurt sometimes to restrain himself from squeezing him to death.

"Is that so?" he purrs, knowing how Ghost likes that. If this day didn't end in sex he'd be very surprised. He'd long learned to recognize when Simon wanted sex and when he didn't, and the way he squeezed his pec in response to his voice was a very easy tell.

But then again Simon was way less subtle than he thought he was.

They made their way back to their room, and there it was, a repurposed shoebox, badly wrapped with cheap wrapping paper. Johnny couldn't be more excited, he had never received any gift from a significant other. To be fair he adored gifting but always felt awkward receiving.

But this was Simon. Something that Simon had chosen to give him.

He sat on the bed, leaving enough space behind him for Ghost to sit there so he could use him as a very comfortable backrest. When he did, he grabbed the gift and began opening it.

He knew that Ghost liked to tear the wrapping paper, liked the sound of it and liked tearing it into the smallest pieces possible after, but he himself loved carefully unwrapping it and folding it flat so he could later maybe do an origami with it or put a piece in his journal. Probably both.

This one was full of tape but he still very much enjoyed himself, considered it a challenge. He enjoyed the chase, wanted to drag it on. Ghost huffed impatiently behind him, a bit tense, probably nervous.

Inside the box was a weird old fashioned clunky thing. It was bright red, looked slightly like binoculars, definitely from the 70's, with a wheel of tiny pictures wedged in the top of it. Memories hit him all at once.

"Oh my god ah remember, my Ma had one of these when ah was a child! My sister and I loved it, it had pretty landscapes in!"

He put it against his eyes, excited to see what this one came with. At his biggest surprise, it was a picture of them. Simon had customised it.

The picture showed the back of himself a bit further away from the camera, pointing at something while in full gear, in a dilapidated town, Ghost's face in the foreground looking at the camera. It looked like Soap was talking to someone, but that person was cut by the framing.

"Wait, ah remember that mission, it's when ah saved Gaz from a landmine just to be shot seconds later," he laughed. "ah spent two fucking weeks in the hospital, ah was miserable. Ye kept joking ah should hiv left Gaz explode while staring at him, he was convinced ye actually wanted him dead!"

Then the next picture was indeed him in his hospital bed, unconscious but the state of his injuries told him he was probably just sleeping at least a few days after his admission, his life no longer in danger. In this one, Ghost was sleeping too, head in his elbow near Soap's head and his other hand holding Soap's hand.

"Who took this one?" Soap asked, moved by the tenderness of Ghost's hold on him in the picture. It would have been right after Johnny had admitted to maybe liking him more than friends, before they were officially dating.

"The hospital one?"

Soap hummed.

"Price did. Said it was for blackmail. Should have seen him, he looked like his child had just married the person of their dreams and had ridden off into a rainbow on a unicorn or some shit. Old man's sentimental as fuck, but I didn't call him on his bullshit, he's already old, that's punishment enough."

Soap giggled in response. The next few pictures were all of them together but each time he was either turning his back or asleep.

"Why the fuck am ah never looking at the camera?" he whined. He wanted some cute couple pictures, dammit!

"Couldn't have you suspecting what I was planning," Simon said, kissing his shoulder soothingly. Only then Soap noticed that he had taken his mask off at some point and turned to ask for a proper kiss, which he immediately got.

"Keep going, there's more pictures," Simon whispered against his lips when he tried to turn around to kiss him some more. His pouting only got him a smirk in response, so he got comfortable again and brought the slide viewer back against his eyes.

He was happy he did. The next picture waiting for him was just Simon in the mirror, almost in full gear, but with one gloveless hand dragging his trousers down so the camera could see the bottom of his stomach, follow along his happy trail and reaching the very top of his pubic hair. The picture cut of his head, but he could see that his mouth was uncovered and he was holding the glove with his teeth.

Soap groaned. "Steaming Jesus, love, you're so hot."

He felt Simon hide his face in the back of his neck, warmer than usual, and chuckled a bit. He loved him so fucking much.

There were four more pictures of Simon, in various suggestive poses and states of undress, some almost showing his cock but never quite committing, making Johnny feel like he was being teased.

He was getting hard though and so ready to be done with the pictures and access the real thing. But Simon was still tense behind him. In fact, he had only gotten tenser and tenser with each click.

Soap was unsure why. They never had a problem with their sexual life, Simon had already changed his mind about having sex after starting and Soap had absolutely no problem with that, was glad to hug him instead and reassure him when he had tried to apologize.

Simon knew that there was no pressure, ever, to have sex. Hell, Johnny would still be happy even if Simon decided that he never wanted to have sex again, and he had made sure to make Simon understand that.

Then he got to the last picture and immediately understood.

It wasn't a picture of either of them, just a little bit of paper, with a few words written in Ghost's awful handwriting.

Just a few words that made Johnny drop the viewer on the covers and turn around to grab Simon's face, worriedly looking in his eyes.

"Are you sure?" he asked, looking for any trace of Simon forcing himself. "Baby, ah'm happy to bottom for the rest of mah life, there's no pressure, okay?"

Simon looked at him with warmth in his eyes and his cheeks completely red, a wrapping bow added on top of his head. "I know," he said simply. "I just want to. I don't want to be haunted by memories anymore. I used to like it, and I want to like it again. With you. Just.... Be gentle, okay?"

Johnny kissed his forehead. "Ah dinnae think ah ken how no tae be gentle with ye, love."

[illegally-blind-and-deaf]

I HAVE A TINTIN HEADCANON!

Yes, another...

ANYWAY

At Marlinspike Hall, Nestor is not the only one whobuses the kitchen. Haddock is often find of fixing himself something to each when he's bored, and Calculus s been known to sneak a cheese or five from the refrigerator.

There is one person who is banned from baking in there and that is Tintin.

Sure, Tintin can cook the basics; he can make toast, heat up canned and frozen food, the whatnot.

But Tintin cannot for the life of him bake.

The first time wasn't too disastrous: he tried to make melting moment biscuits but forgot the butter.

The second time, Nestor walked in to two failed batches of cupcake batter dumped in the bin and Tintin frowning at the recipe. Nestor couldn't help but laugh as he explained that Tintin had been reading the recipe in grams, not ounces, to which the boy dropped his head onto the kitchen counter, unaware that his hair was now white with flour.

It got progressively worse until Tintin managed to put blotting paper in bread.

Blotting paper.

In bread.

When asked to explain himself (through hysterics, because Haddock was wetting himself with laughter,) he sheepishly recounted how he forgot about the dough when he left it to rise, so he had put it in the tin and sprayed it with oil so it didn't dry out and left it to rise again. He forgot about it once more, and went to re-knead the dough, but because of the extra oil, in had grown greasy. So, he had gotten some blotting paper, rested it on the dough and, as he told himself to not put the paper into the dough, he pushed the paper into the dough.

From that day on, Tintin was not allowed to bake unless supervised by a more experience adult.

He was not happy about that.

[staryarn]

Magic hellbus is gonna come out and we're going to get a vague Ishmael quote that absolutely foreshadows her canto

[gloomwalking]

the intense urges i get to hurt myself after like the most boring mildly embarrassing social interactions are just getting funny at this point

[reiketsui]

talking about getting a fucking rice cooker and then burning my rice 15 mins later

[rexscanonwife]

Just so you know I'm imagining you making Toshi a bento box for lunch at work but you absolutely beef it on the rice and you're just looking at him wet eyed like ppleass,,, pleease enjjoy 🥺🥺🥺 (You know who this is but Im anon so you have to answer publicly >:3)

YOU ARE SO MEAN TO ME

[butchtoads]

Thinking of distancing myself from Tumblr for a while again. Maybe other online social circles as well.

It's a pattern in my life, it's not just a problem here, but where I try to form friendships and relationships on a base level I seem entirely unable to. It's been a while since I felt this way about this platform, but I'm remembering why I deleted those old accounts and finding myself back in the pattern, the same rhythm, just to the tune of a different song. I don't know how to fix it. Hopefully therapy will fix it, someday. Generally when I do interact with fan bases (in moderation, I don't do well in crowds) it's to try to make friendships (and appreciate others art, but that's not the subject here) but at the same time there's this part of me that cringes away from the prospect. The first part of me doesn't really know how to go about it when it wants to either, but when the first part of me makes a positive step forward the other part of me drags us right back. It makes me wonder, am I just, on a base level, that unlikable? Unable to form the basic bonds that seem to come to others so easily? I don't know what's wrong with me and I don't know how to fix it. But feeling like I'm on the sidelines, an outsider looking in all the time, I don't think it's helping. I forgot how incredibly isolating this platform tends to feel. I think it's time to step away again.

I know I'm currently involved in a project. I intend to stay until the end, but I think I'm going to slow down activity wise. Hard to say how abrupt the stop will be. My emotions around this kind of thing are unpredictable and in the face of getting physically ill again I can't exactly turn to something else to distract me just yet. I try not to vent too much on this platform anymore. Too personal. I may or may not delete this later. But I wanted to put these thoughts down somewhere semi visible even if it's very possible no one will read this.

[nekopathy]

Need to stop muttering under my breath about how I need to kill myself while averting my gaze after every perceived social fuck up... not helpful to say the least 👍

[sleepy-vix]

Reality is lemons and the internet's my lemonade