#No onions for those dogs

[northernstrangergames]

Le Petit Caporal

Off-key singing and rumbling cartwheels accompany le Petit Caporal’s passage through the countryside. Nicknamed ‘the little corporal’ after the affectionate nickname given to Napoleon by his troops, a huge 42-pound coastal artillery gun is being transported to a nearby muster point for the invasion of England. 

The massive gun has been incorporated into the army’s siege train, used to reduce any fortifications that block the French advance inland. 3D6 artillerymen accompany the wagon transporting the gun, under the command of an officer riding a glossy black mare. The soldiers are armed with carbines and carry short sabres (stats as cutlass.)

Two local peasants have been drafted to drive the wagon, urging the lumbering oxen onward with flicks of the reins and a cracking whip. The marching artillerymen sing the Chanson de l’Oignon (‘the onion song’), a popular marching song among the veterans of Napoleon’s Austrian campaign.

I've been working on some random encounters for Shot & Splinters, and this is definitely one of my favourites. One of the best things about writing a historical game is discovering new and unexpected things about the past.

The delightful melody of the Onion Song conjours up a picture of blue-jacketed infantrymen marching through the countryside, singing to keep in step. They're smiling, joking, being human. I think sometimes we forget about the human stories. The Napoleonic Wars are more than Napoleon and Austerlitz. Wellington and Talavera.

I hope my games help you uncover the humanity hidden within the past.

[slavhew]

burger

[nugge-is-my-duckie]

[saucepanguy]

visiting my extended family is like what if being bored was so distressing it made you consider self harm and then you went to a house with four people whose only mode of communication is lecturing

[ghwosty]

the conses (eating way too much fried food at the county fair) are going to quence (tummy hurty)

[fingertipsmp3]

I wish all food service workers who are weird about regulars always ordering the same specific thing and tease them for it a very “please don’t do that”

[winter-tospring]

I want to thank my wife for making me see the color pink in a new light; making it a joyous event for me, instead of something I roll my eyes at. Associating it with her is the best thing that could have happened to my relationship to it. It's genuinely happy for me now, because I know it makes her happy. And I feel protective, and in that feeling, grows a defensive stubbornness to have more pink and more softness.

My heart just burstssss 💓with the desire to surround her with all the pretty things. With all the soft, blooming pink adornments i could find, to make her feel light, loved, and more precious than the stars.

I love that she's the softest soul I've ever known. I treasure her unabashed love of cute things, pretty, silly things I wouldn't have opened my heart to before. She's the smartest and most knowledgeable person I know, and her humor matching mine was like endless cherries on top of what I already was incredibly humbled to be a part of with her. There's something so grounding about the light-hearted moments; I really started realizing that in the past months. She makes me laugh all day, and she laughs with me, and even what I do and what I joke about can make her smile to tears. I'm starstruck by it, because she's a wonder to behold in those moments, and because it makes me feel so liked... I go shy in my heart, and smile to myself. One of the greatest joys.

I'm in awe that I get to know all parts of her, equally. Her resolution of spirit, her encyclopedic brain, her balm of a laugh, her lazy touch, her corny jokes, and so much more... To have known and adored her as someone online, then a friend, and to now know and adore her intimately, constantly makes me feel so privileged and wonderstruck.

She makes me look twice at simplicity, and awards my heart with beauty and meaning that I wouldn't have found had she not pointed to it. Trinkets, patterns, details, words, and actions; I think life is fizzing within her, and she cares so much because she can feel it all for how invaluable it is. She lives through the kind of heart I've aimed to carry in myself. I cultivate the thoughts to behave with intention, but she truly feels it all, second after second, and to watch her is to love life a thousandfold.

I try harder because of her, I wait longer because of her, I give my body pause for appreciation of what's around me, of what beauty could be found in it. I watch her watch things, and take notes. I give pause to more, in general, to feel the length of moments and savor them, and I start to understand that relaxing and nothingness have value in them, beyond preservation, or restoration. Sitting there with you is a treasure in itself. I know it, but my instincts take me out of what I know in my core to be true, for fear, that just being here wouldn't be enough. You brush fears gently with your warmth, and keep me embraced for long enough to feel, that I'm right where I should be.

She brightens everything with her gentleness and her uncorrupted stance in herself, which I admire so greatly. Seemingly uninfluenced by trends and outside opinion, she remains so effortlessly herself that her taste is truly hers, and it's so rare, and inspiring. She's like a true free spirit. She knows what she sees in things, and in others, and she's not afraid to compliment and acknowledge, even the smallest things. Victories are a many, every day, when you are around her. It's so light, so unburdened. All a continuation of communication and cooperation, and sadness, and comfort, and good faith, and care, leading us to all the finish lines we ever start.

I want her warmth to be held and celebrated for the gift that it is. I long to spend all my time embellishing her world the way she does mine. My love is hers, always deepening, filling endlessly with memories to look back on. I want more pictures than one can store, and I'm so happy about it. I used to delete without care, and now I want to overflow in folders of us.

I'm more affectionate than I could have ever been; I feel it become part of me, my hand reaching for her like that's what it's meant for. I feel the eyes beyond us becoming irrelevant. It gets easier and lovelier and more necessary each time I see her face again. It makes me so happy, and proud, and I know it's thanks to her.

I realized recently that I finally understand this thing about not knowing where the other person begins and where you end. Fade into you, you know. I understand. It's beyond words, constant when in her presence, unstated, but here, in me, between us. I feel complete, I feel peace, I'm at home with her. Nothing comes close to this.

I love you, infinitely, Dusty. I love choosing you, every single day. It's effortless; it's the thing that makes the most sense in the whole world. I'm so proud of you, and in love with you. 2 years of giggly disbelief that you love me too. I'm so lucky, @dustlines <3

[teamfortresstwo]

God Achilles would fucking hate Erebus chambers

[gayclubsoap]

one day i'll put the french toast and homemade guac recipes i learned from a friend's mom to use. one day

[bimiio]

what're you hungry for honey? I'll cook whatever you like and eat you for dessert

rn (n recently in general) i’ve been craving an italian sandwich w good crusty bread n a bunch of crunchy veggies n a side of jalapeño chips so not exactly rlly “cooking” more just food prep but if i got dat rn?? UGH i would CUM

[dionysianivy]

𝐌𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐧

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝘼𝙪𝙩𝙪𝙢𝙣 𝙀𝙦𝙪𝙞𝙣𝙤𝙭 🌾🍎🕯

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What is Mabon?

Mabon, celebrated around September 21 to September 29, marks the autumnal equinox and the second harvest of the year. It’s a time of balance, as the hours of light and dark stand equal, symbolizing the transition between summer and winter. It's a time when witches and practitioners honor the changing seasons, express gratitude for the Earth's abundance, and connect with the energies of balance and transition. The term "Mabon" for this celebration is named after Mabon ap Modron, a character from Welsh mythology. It is often associated with the mythological theme of the abducted and imprisoned child who later becomes a hero, which parallels the changing seasons.

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Who is Mabon Ap Modron?

Mabon ap Modron, also known as Maponus, is a character from Welsh mythology. In some versions of the myth, Mabon is portrayed as a divine hero or a child who was abducted from his mother, Modron, and imprisoned. He is rescued after 3 years and plays a significant role in Welsh mythological tales. The name "Mabon" itself means "son" or "young man" in Welsh, and it is connected to the theme of rebirth and the return of the light.

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Hades × Persephone and the Autumn Equinox

Legend has it that on the last day of summer, Hades, the god of the Underworld, saw Persephone picking flowers in a field. He immediately fell in love with her and abducted her, wanting to keep her by his side as the queen of the dead. Upon discovering the disappearance of her daughter, Demeter, the goddess of harvest, set out to find her. Unable to locate Persephone, Demeter’s sorrow and despair were so overwhelming that the flowers, trees, and all vegetation withered, bringing all growth on Earth to a halt. The gods of Olympus, who were powerless to ignore the prayers of humans, reached a compromise with Hades regarding Persephone’s return. She would spend only six months each year with Hades in the Underworld. To avenge herself, Demeter decreed that during those six months, nature would mourn, and nothing would grow on Earth until Persephone ascended again from the Underworld.

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Magical Correspondences

Planets: Sun, Mercury

Season: Autumn 

Element: Water 

Time of Day: Dusk

Tarot: The Hermit 

Colors: Brown, Maroon, Red, Orange, Purple, Yellow, Gold

Herbs: Rosemary, Sage, Thyme, Chamomile, Cedarwood, Juniper, Mugwort, Dried Apple

Fruits: Grapes, Apples, Pears, Plums, Blackberry, Pomegranates

Vegetables: Carrots, Corn, Onions, Pumpkin, Squash

Runes: Dagaz, Inguz, Eihwaz, Jera

Crystals: Amethyst, Agate, Citrine, Tiger's Eye, Amber, Yellow Topaz

Trees: Apple, Oak, Aspen, Cedar

Goddesses: Pomona, Demeter, Epona, Inanna, Ishtar, Kore, Modron, the Morrigan, Persephone, Banbha, Autumnus, Hestia

Gods: Dionysus, Mabon ap Modron, Hades, Dumuzi, the Green Man, Hermes, Thoth, Cernunnos, Osiris, Freyr

Flowers: Marigold, Chrysanthemum, Aster

Animals: Deer, Dog, Wolf, Blackbird, Squirrel, Salmon, Swan

Magical uses: Abundance, Accomplishment, Agriculture, Balance, Goals, Gratitude, Grounding, Harvest, New Beginnings, Reflection

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Activities to do:

🍎 create your own Cornucopia

🍎 make a special Mabon jar

🍎 bake an autumn recipe

🍎 eat apple pie

🍎 harvest your garden

🍎 light a bonfire and dance or tell stories with your loved ones around it

🍎 do a guided meditation to welcome the new season

🍎 clean your garden

🍎 listen to Mabon music on Youtube or Spotify(there are plenty of playlist you can find!)

🍎 spend time with your deity/deities

🍎 grab some autumn flowers and bring them into your home

🍎 rest and relax♡

🍎 read about Mabon

🍎 clean your house to prepare for the season

🍎 take a walk outside to connect with nature and be grateful for the summer that has passed and warmly welcome the beauty of autumn

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Food and Drinks:

apple pie, apple cider, wine, grapes, root vegetables, apples, cornbread, baked good made from wheat or grains, cakes with cinnamon or nutmeg, roasted meat, pork chops, mashed potatoes, peach jams, fruit tarts, apples in all forms, pumpkin pie

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useful sources: Magie Blanche by Eric Pier Sperandio

gifs credit: Pinterest

Tip jar🍎🌾

[syrupfog]

Maybe in another world the poison Sanji’s mum took didn’t work on Sanji, or at least not in the same way. 

A child with black hair and dull eyes, and like his brothers he’s made to be a solider who follows orders. 

The difference is that he follows his mum’s instead of Judge’s. 

She’s distraught that the poison wasn’t enough, but she raises Sanji as best she can to be someone free, even if he can’t really be. 

He learns to cook because she asks him to (she wonders if she’s fooling herself when she sees just a glimmer of excitement in his dull eyes).

He guards her like a dog as she grows sick, this six year old who can’t even see over the counters. But he’s strong and can fight and all he knows is that what his mum says is what he does. 

And when she’s dying, she tells him to run. Says whatever happens, get away from Judge.

And when she dies, that’s what he does. Because he’s an emotionless machine, but he’s following her orders. She told him to be free from Germa, and to seek friends. He doesn’t understand the second part (“friends are a weakness” Judge had said) so he ignores it, but he goes.

He finds the Orbit at age seven and he already has cooking skills (and he’s super powered— he’s good at what he does). They’re creeped out by him, most of the cooks just try to ignore him or slink around him, this terrifying little kid who can dice hundreds of onions in an hour.

He doesn’t interact with them either— his mum said to be free, and he assumes this is “free”. He assumes these aren’t “friends”, at least they’re not like in the books she read him. No one has fought for him or offered to share their things with him, so these must not be them.

And then, of course, the Orbit is hit by pirates, and then hits a storm. Sanji ends up stranded with Zeff on that cliff. Why’d Zeff save him? Maybe it was the way he stood emotionless in front of him with those dead eyes. Said he had to get back to cooking like nothing mattered.

Maybe it was the way everyone else looked at him like they were scared of him, this little ten year old unaware of his effect. 

Maybe it was the almost imperceptible way he flinched when another cook came near him, like he was waiting for the next attack. 

It doesn’t matter now.

What matters is that Sanji’s on the island with Zeff and they’re starving, but Zeff gives him food. Zeff loses his leg for Sanji. These things are adding up, Sanji thinks this might be what his mum wanted him to find. 

He’s not sure. 

Uncertainty doesn’t fit well with him.

But his mum said to find a friend and Zeff fits what he knows, so he devotes himself like a soldier. When they get off the island, Zeff can’t get rid of him no matter what he tries (he doesn’t try too hard). 

They get a restaurant. 

Sanji works like a machine in the kitchens.

Zeff puts him on food prep for years and Sanji does it without complaint. No one is as good as him at finely dicing, at weighing and measuring to the letter. He even does the dishes when they’re behind, and only breaks one before he figures out not to grip with all his strength.

Zeff makes him a full fledged chef at fifteen. 

He always feels a little… conflicted about making Sanji work. The boy doesn’t have friends and doesn’t seem to desire them. He doesn’t have emotions. It feels wrong to make him work when he doesn't have the fight to object.

But Sanji’s his responsibility for some reason, and he’s accepted that. 

And once, just once, when Sanji is seventeen, Judge comes down in the middle of the night to find a full five course meal prepared. It’s nothing the Baratie makes. It smells of unfamiliar lands.

He doesn’t mention it to Sanji, and there’s no trace of it the next day. 

He wonders, though. 

When Sanji is nineteen, Luffy arrives with a cannonball through the wall. 

Zeff’s not too happy about that, but Sanji’s on red alert. He goes after Luffy with a vengeance.

Because that’s ZEFF, and if Sanji knows one thing it’s that he has to PROTECT ZEFF. 

Luffy’s enamoured with him immediately. He wants Sanji. He wants this man who cooks and fights with his feet (Zeff taught him that, Sanji added it to the rules— no hands, be free, find friends).

Sanji’s dull eyes barely blink as he tells Luffy no, that he’s here for Zeff. 

But then Luffy says the magic words. 

He introduces Sanji (who stopped fighting at Zeff’s directive) to his crew and says, “this is my new friend Sanji! He’s going to be our cook!”

It’s confusing in a way few things are. Sanji lives in black and white— but Luffy says they’re *friends*. His mum told him to find friends. But he can’t leave Zeff, who is also a friend. 

Sanji stumbles a little. 

And then the green haired swordsman mocks him for it. The smallest flame of anger lights in his belly, a single momentary spark. 

But that doesn’t matter because right now in this moment Sanji is processing having TWO friends. 

That processing comes to a halt when Zeff yells at him to leave. 

It’s simple again. 

He follows orders.

He joins the Straw Hats. 

He cooks. 

He fights. 

Luffy talks all the time about being free, and Sanji doesn’t get it but he figures Luffy will tell him when they manage to become “the most free”, something he has no metric of.

Also, Zoro is there. 

Zoro is a complication. Sanji’s not sure if he’s friends with everyone or just with Luffy. He THINKS it’s everyone. He doesn’t like living in greys. 

And Zoro likes to fight. 

He tries to rile Sanji up, every time. Makes comments about his food or eyebrows.

Sometimes it… well it doesn’t *work* but it makes that little spark hit deep inside of him again, and for a split second the world is brighter. And then it’s gone. 

Then Zoro pulls out his swords, which means they’re sparring, and Sanji is good at sparring.

They add more crew members. They go from island to island. Sanji protects his friends because that’s what he’s supposed to do, and he cooks, because he’s supposed to. 

And then some time around Water 7 he starts to dream. 

He’s never dreamed before.

He dreams of his mum and her warm smile. He dreams of his sister and her complicated expressions that he could never understand. 

He dreams of Zoro and the grin that stretches over his face and the way his earrings dance. 

He doesn’t get it. There’s no point to dreams.

What does it, what finally lights the spark inside of him, is Thriller Bark. It’s “nothing happened”. Zoro pushes him out of the way, stops him from doing the one thing he’s MADE to do, and then Sanji wakes up and realises what’s happened. 

And a whirlwind alights inside of him.

The world has colors and depth it didn’t before, as he’s flooded with ANGER, that Zoro would do that, WORRY, that Zoro won’t make it, PAIN and HEARTBREAK for his mum, and a new sort of loyalty, deep and unending, for his crew. 

He watches Zoro sleep as he processes.

And when Zoro finally wakes, when that worry abates a little, he YELLS at him. SCREAMS that he was a SELFISH ASSHOLE and HOW DARE HE and he’s IMPORTANT. 

And through it all, Zoro stares at him, wide eyed and probably high on pain meds.

And then, when Sanji finally exhausts himself, Zoro grins. That same grin from Sanji’s dreams, and he says, “I knew you’d make it.” 

Which is DUMB and makes Sanji EVEN MORE MAD because what does that fucking MEAN and he YELLS SOME MORE and by that time all the Straw Hats have gathered in shock outside the infirmary door. 

“Welcome to the crew, Curls,” Zoro says and Sanji wants to KICK HIM but he’s on death’s door already and Sanji knows how strong he is. 

So instead he collapses onto him and weeps, his emotions a confusing mess inside of him.

And eventually the door creaks open and Chopper slips in because he HAS to check Zoro’s vitals and then Luffy BOUNDS in and wraps his arms around Sanji and says “SANJI, MAKE ME MEAT” and Sanji SNAPS that he’s BUSY and Luffy LAUGHS and says “Okay but AFTER YOU’RE BUSY, MEAT.”

And later that night, after he’s made a MISTAKE in the kitchen because he got EMOTIONAL chopping vegetables, he sits in the infirmary again, forcing Zoro to drink broth. And he says, “I don’t know what happened. It’s like there’s too much of me inside me now.”

And Zoro says yeah. “That’s what living feels like,” he says. 

“I don’t like it,” says Sanji. 

“You ever disliked something before?” 

“No.” 

“Then congratulations.” 

Then Zoro reaches out and grabs his hand. His grip is weak still, shaking.

He says, “this is the point. You have to find things to live for, now.” 

And Sanji thinks. “I’m supposed to live for friends,” he says. “And freedom.” 

“The you’re on the right ship,” Zoro says. “What else?” 

And Sanji remembers a book his mum used to read. A long time ago.

“Have you heard of the All Blue?”

[frootyrooties]

In light of Thanksgiving Day, I can’t help but imagine Eric Clapton and Eric Stewart having a hot dog eating contest. Like who would even win in that situation?

[sassywastelanddestiny]

ok so a LOT TO UNPACK HERE!!!

[transmascsteveharrington]

Growing up, food is always a bit of a sore spot for Eddie. Of course, Wayne does his best to make sure that Eddie never goes to bed with an empty stomach, but growing boys need lots of fuel. And while there always is food, there often isn’t much food. But it’s fine, Eddie knows Wayne is trying so hard, picking up all the extra shifts he can. Eddie would never hold it against his uncle, he knows how much Wayne already frets. And even though Eddie’s stomach growls every now and then, he learns to ignore it. Learns how not to be hungry.

While other kids experiment what herbs might go best with pasta sauce and how to caramelize sugar without burning it, Eddie tries to find out how to water down soup and stretch stew for days. Figures out how to make rice with beans still taste good on day five. Hunts down coupons and keeps an eye out for discounts so they can have hot dogs on the fourth of july and candy on Halloween. Food is never really pleasure or indulgence. Only something neither he nor Wayne try to worry about. Some days it’s easier than others.

It’s not really until after the upside down, after he has been discharged from the hospital and off the murder accusations, not until Steve that food becomes more than just another annoyingly human need. Thanks to the government hush money and Eddie picking up a mechanic jobat the local garage they don’t need to worry about food anymore. 

But it’s still just means to an end, there is no luxuriating in it, no big cravings, Eddie still cuts out coupons. Steve offers them to host Hellfire at his house and Eddie offers to buy snacks. It’s the least he can do if Steve is letting them into his mansion. But Steve declines, says he’ll take care of it. And he does. 

When Eddie and the rest of Hellfire show up the dining room table (Steve has a dining room Jesus H. Christ) is filled with all kinds of snacks. It’s everyone’s favorite kinds of snack. And not the store brand knock off snacks, no, it’s the real fancy shit. Or well as fancy as pringles and mountain dew can be. But it doesn’t stop there. 

Once the game is over, the kids help clean up, but none of them rush to get their shoes back on or slip into their jackets. Instead, they pile into the kitchen, dragging Eddie and the older kids of Hellfire with them where Steve is already handing them steaming plates of lasagna. 

“You running a soup kitchen, Harrington?” Eddie can’t help but tease as a  plate is pressed into his hands. 

There is a blush creeping over Steve’s face and Eddie instantly regrets his comment. It’s just the snacks, the dinner, it kinda makes him feel inadequate, like he was bad at hosting Hellfire because he never brought snacks let alone dinner.

It takes Eddie a while to understand that Steve doesn’t do it to show off, but simply because he enjoys cooking. He always provides snacks when they are at his house, be it Hellfire, movie night, or pool parties. There is always home cooked food and often even homemade dessert too. The day he bakes a bunch of lemon meringue cookies is a horrible day because those cookies are to die or fall madly in love for and Eddie can feel his stomach swoop. He ignores it like he has ignored all his cravings over the years. And it works for a while.

Until one golden autumn afternoon when Eddie is early and the kids are still at school. Eddie offers to drive around the block a couple of times, but Steve just laughs, tells Eddie not to be stupid. He leads Eddie into the kitchen and motions for him to sit on the counter.  Talks about how he likes company while cooking. The radio in the corner of the kitchen blares pop music loudly and Steve turns it down, no need for it to longer fill the oppressive silence. Eddie hops on the counter, dangles his legs and watches Steve cook. It’s so obviousthat he loves doing it. The way he hums quietly, sautees onions and garlic, stirs in herbs and spices, tastes his sauce, frowns and adds more salt. It’s horribly endearing and cute and dangerous and Eddie can’t tell if his stomach is growling or filled with butterflies. 

“Have you always loved cooking?” he asks, desperate to keep his thoughts from spiraling. Steve laughs again in response and the sound kicks up another storm in Eddie’s stomach. 

“God no,” Steve says and stirs his sauce. “I couldn’t cook for the longest time. Lived off tv dinners and take out for some years.” 

The soft smile of his lips faints slightly. Eddie knows what a bitter taste loneliness can leave in your mouth. Knows that while Steve never had to worry about food, he also never had someone to share it with. 

“Found some cookbooks inthe attic a few years back,” Steve continues. “Tired out some recipes, asked Claudia and Mrs. Wheeler for advice when I couldn’t get something right and well here we are.” 

“Here we are,” Eddie echoes, unable to tear his eyes away from Steve. He looks gorgeous in the golden afternoon light, a dorky apron that says Kiss the cook on it and god how Eddie would like to oblige that order. Steve catches him staring, but doesn’t call him out on it. The corner of his mouth twitches up as he dips a wooden spoon into the sauce, holds a hand under it and turns to Eddie.

“Taste this for me?” he asks, stepping closer, until he is bracketed by Eddie’s thighs. Eddie can just swallow and nod, not sure how to cope with Steve being this close. Steve lifts the spoon until wood touches Eddie’s lips. He parts them hesitantly, lets Steve push the spoon into his mouth, licks the sauce off it. All while looking in the gold honey and caramel of Steve’s eyes. Eddie wonders if Steve's lips would taste of spun sugar too. 

“It’s good,” he rasps once Steve has lowered the spoon. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.”

Steve smiles and god if smiles had a taste, Steve’s would be Eddie’s favorite flavor. The kind of flavor that would teach Eddie indulgence. The same way Steve indulges in his cooking, lets all the time and care he puts in his food speak for how much he loves the people he prepares food for. Because for Steve food is more than just sustenance. It's love. 

Steve goes back to the stove, stirs some more and begins humming again. Eddie continues to watch him. And for the first time in years, Eddie allows himself to be hungry. 

.   

[intimidating-fettuccine]

Liu: Jeff, why are you crying?

Jeff, sniffling: Just cutting some onions.

Liu: Those are potatoes.

Y/N: He was watching wholesome military members coming home to their dogs videos.