#Partake In The Soup. Partake In The Soup.

[northern-passage]

hi. sending you all the love i can muster. thank you for your stories. northern's mc is my wet pathetic fursona and your vampires ladies are the moonlight in my very dark mental night.

hi. i've been offline a bit for various reasons but i wanted to respond to this and i've been trying to articulate my thoughts and feelings in a way that's productive and understanding.

obviously as a very visible gay person in the south i get it, but i want to emphasize that for the past year, we've all watched the US gleefully partake in genocide. i feel uncomfortable with this sentiment that only now it's scary; i've been scared for quite a long time, actually.

but this fear-mongering that's happening right now is insidious. i don't mean to pretend like nothing's happening, but to act like it's all over is childish at best and actively malicious at worst. to have spent this past year advocating and speaking up against genocide alongside so many others, to have witnessed the hard work so many people have done the last 12+ months (to have watched this genocide basically streamed straight to my phone!) as well as working to combat the racism and misogyny in this country just for people to act like now is the end pisses me off, to be frank. yes things will be harder and uglier, this is undeniable and i'm not trying to minimize any of that, but we cannot just ignore the reality that the worst was already happening; the violence has already been here before trump and it would have continued even without him.

do what you have to do and keep it pushing. go to gaza funds and gaza soup kitchen and donate and boost gfms when you can. look for ways to get directly involved online or in your city. pay attention to what's happening around you, at your school board, at your workplace, at your local library. if you've been privileged enough that you only now feel fear about what's happening, then use that privilege to boost the voices of the most vulnerable among us (and take a long look in the mirror and reflect about why it's taken you this long to show up). and understand that it never has been, and there is never going to be a point where it's "over."

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

Ayo come get your Howdy soup while it’s…uncomfortably warm and acidic

prolongedslurpingsound.wav

[gotta-bail-my-quails]

i know the conversation should focus on palestinians first and foremost (although i'm not an expert on how palestinians feel on the matter--others have posted about how heinous it is for israelis to claim palestinian dishes as their own, and notably how they are destroying the plants and land which produce those dishes while enjoying them) but I suppose as a form of solidarity, I hope none of y'all zionist fuckers enjoy any vietnamese cuisine either. i hope every bowl of pho you buy is spat in because i'd rather my home culture's dishes be tainted than to let you enjoy them

[maskednerd]

Could you explain the free soup meme? I don't get it. Is the joke that Caleb is dumb?

Of course! I can try at the very least.

It's a version of the "Forbidden Snacks" meme. Where the joke is, you probably shouldn't drink rain water collected in a tree trunk. But it's tempting cause... free soup. Caleb seems like the type to be lured by that promise of Forbidden Forest Soup. It's not that he's dumb, more so naturally curious and naive.

Evelyn is basically his Forbidden Forest Soup

I referenced it in the tags, but I recommend listening to the "Me Want Bite" trilogy for a bit of context as well!

Forgive me, I'm terrible at explaining things. But I hope this helps!

[federalchickensoup]

Actually when I think about it. Soap sounds a bit wounded—jealous even(?).

no but like what if ghost did fuck reader in front of the team. my head is so full with that thought.

A/N: Simon Ghost Riley x F!Reader. Voyeurism kind of. Vague smut.

It’s not out in the open. Not really. But every damn one of them knows what’s happening. 

Price is on watch while the rest of the team lies on the floor of a dirty, old living room. It’s a rundown shack in the middle of Colorado. The cold is severe, full of needles and glass, and Soap can see his breath. Gaz is pressed against him. Vargas is on his other side. 

Romantic. Two unshowered men nearly on top of him, but the heat is appreciated.

It’s quiet except for the wind howling like something out of legend. Makes him think of banshees or spirits. Soap can hear voices in the violence of its texture. Branches snap against the windows and patchy roof. Howls of agony that may just be from the meat of his head. He's seen a lot of death this week.

“We can’t.”

It’s you, your voice high and thin before it's met by the low, rumbling rasp of Ghost responding with something Soap can't discern. The floor creaks, the shadows burning patterns across the popcorn ceiling. Cobwebs. The stench of rotten wood. 

What are they whisperin’ about?

Soap hears Ghost shift. He’s surprised at how the man maneuvers his colossal mass without the room buckling.

Simon somehow got dibs on being your source of warmth for the night. Soap had even asked first, a tease more than anything.

“Care to be my cuddle buddy, lass?”

You’d laughed before your eyes cut to Ghost who was leaning against the wall, bulging arms crossed over his chest. All black aside from the white stain of his mask. Looming like some stone effigy.

“Um,” you said. “Sure, Johnny-“

“You’re taking watch with me, Red,” Ghost had cut in, tone flat and dry enough to burn. You’d blinked at him, the corner of your mouth twitching. 

“Oh,” you said softly. “Forgot. My bad.”

Sure.

Soap jerks when he hears you whimper. It slices through the cold, the wind. He moves his head to look before Vargas knocks him in the thigh. Soap scowls.

“What the hell, mate?” he whispers.

“He’s fucking her,” Vargas states plainly. “Just warning you.”

Soap nearly chokes, a laugh punching at the back of his throat before he stifles it. “Come again?”

Vargas widens his eyes meaningfully. Soap can’t believe it and so he lifts himself to his elbows to peek across the room. He’s not exactly understated, mostly running on curiosity and bewilderment. 

Lieutenant wouldn’t -

Oh. Holy. Shit. 

Ghost is on top, one arm braced beside your face. Soap can barely see you due to Ghost’s giant body that’s pinning you to the floor. You’re revealed in flashes. Bare knees locked against Ghost’s waist, pant leg loose around an ankle. His trousers are hitched lower, but he still appears fully dressed. Your small hands clasp the back of Ghost’s head, before slipping down to dig your fingertips into the nape of his neck.

Ghost is fucking you slow and lazy. His ass rises before driving forward, lurching you slightly up the floor. One gloved hand is under the crown of your skull, pillowing it from the uncomfortable wood surface. Your heel slides down the back of his thigh. He thrusts a little more sharply and it forces a moan from your lips.

“Shhh,” Ghost murmurs in a voice that Soap has never heard him use. In fact, it sounds alien coming out of Simon Riley. It’s coaxing and tender. “Good girl,” he finishes before there’s the distinct noise of something wet. 

A hand grips his collar and wrenches him back down. It’s Gaz, eyes gleaming in the dark as he cocks an eyebrow. “If Ghost catches you watching them…”

“He’s gonna what?” Soap returns, jaw clenched because the sight, the sounds are doing something to him. “If Price walks in, the cunt’s gonna have his fuckin’ head for screwin’ her.”

Gaz squints, his teeth gleaming white in the dark before stifling a yawn. “They’ve been sleeping together for months. I thought you knew.”

The wind screeches outside.

Soap gapes and Gaz flicks his chin. “Close your mouth, man, before the flies get in.”

Soap rolls his eyes. “How’d you know?”

“Saw them going at it outside that bar in Rio.”

“Like kissing?”

“Like he was behind her and had her cheek shoved up against the alley wall.”

Jesus. He remembered that trip. You’d scraped the side of your face and you’d said you’d fallen. 

“They haven’t been subtle,” Vargas shrugs. “Remember when Ghost slaughtered half that room on Vlad Kuznetsov’s boat…”

“Yeah,” Soap replies. “But they’d shot her. He was just reacting.”

“He was supposed to keep them alive,” Vargas reminds him. “Death only if necessary.”

“So he deemed it necessary-“

“Because they hurt his girl.”

“I’m too tired for this,” Soap growls. “He should-“

There’s the startling noise of Ghost slamming his hand on the floor and shuddering. You giggle, and he bites off a curse before slapping some bare piece of you - probably your ass. Christ. 

Silence returns. The two lovers are breathing hard and deep. The floor creaks and fabric rasps. Simon is talking to you in a soothing baritone before he chuckles. It’s weird as fuck.

“Think she’s seen his face?” Gaz suddenly asks. The question hangs there between the three of them. When Soap hears Ghost laugh softly again, Soap thinks it’s more likely than not.

[ibupr0fendolll]

TIPS AND TRICKS FOR FASTING!!!

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#1; low cal drinks

thirst is commonly mistaken for hunger during the fasting period, so here are some low/0kcal drinks that aren't just plain water to indulge in during your fast (guilt-free):

- black coffee (a good appetite suppressant. adding no calorie sweeteners will improve the taste)

- diet sodas/zero sugar sodas

- plain tea (opt for freshly brewed)

- ice cold glass of lemon & cucumber sparkling water

- electrolyte water (you can make these at home or purchase in-store, these will keep you energized and provide nutrients if you're doing a longer fast)

- flavoured mineral water

- black coffee & redbull (probably tastes disgusting, but gives you an excellent energy boost when desperate times call for desperate measures)

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#2; still bored?

if you're tired of these options in their liquid form, try using an ice cube/ice lolly mould to turn these into refreshing popsicles for hot summer days. it'll be a fun activity to get your mind off food, and a much more stimulating experience for your taste buds. freeze for 6-8 hours and they're ready!!!

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#3; low intensity exercise

make sure you're partaking in frequent exercise to keep the hunger and fatigue at bay. here are some examples of what you can get up to that doesn't put so much strain on your body:

- walking

- yoga

- meditation

- gentle stretching

- pilates

working out before or after your fast is always better than during. if you get too ill/tired, you may be tempted to break it

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#4; keeping your mind off food

fasting might mean you have more free time on your hands than before. the key is to stay busy so your mind doesn't wander off and you stay focused on your goals! here are some ways to do that:

- picking up a new hobby or learning a new skill

- tell yourself "i'll eat it later", this tricks your brain into reducing the immediate urge you have to eat the food, and gives you time to think about the consequences of eating it. by the time "later" comes around, you won't want it anymore

- watch a movie with an actor/actress with your desired weight

- create a th1nsp1r@t!on board on pinterest

- make a reward list (obviously with no food) for when you lose a certain amount of weight/complete a certain no. of fasts

(credit; @bxbblegxmbxtch17)

- buy yourself a piece of clothing in your desired clothing size (whether it's for your 1st gw or ultimate gw) and hang it in full view when you're working out/fasting to remind yourself why you started in the first place

- journal!!!

- read a book

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#5; breaking your fast

DO NOT pig out after your fast is over. that is still binging whether you have it all in one go or not. opt for more nutritious and lighter meals so as not to undo your progress and to slowly build back your tolerance to foods after a particularly long fast, such as these:

- grilled chicken salad = ~290KCALS

- quinoa and roasted vegetables = ~275KCALS

- strawberry oat smoothie = ~280kcals

- mixed vegetable stir fry over rice = ~255kcals

- lentil and tomato soup = ~200kcals

(note; these are just approximates and completely depending on your serving size & what ingredients you use)

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that's all i have today :) let me know what you think! i hope these helped, you got this doll ♡

[blasphemousclaw]

ok I keep seeing takes that shadow of the erdtree fumbled the hornsent because they made them too unlikeable and unsympathetic and enabled all those “total hornsent death” weirdos but I wholeheartedly believe that the writers have been portraying the hornsent sympathetically from the very beginning. like just because the story spends time on the darker aspects of hornsent society doesn’t mean that it’s arguing that Marika and Messmer were in the right? in fact I think it’s pretty obviously arguing the opposite? 

some of the first sights you’ll see in the Shadow Lands are the scorched ruins, which are surrounded by hornsent grave markers — wooden stakes each with a horn affixed to it, horns being seen as sacred objects in hornsent society. the victims’ shades (by the look of them, ordinary people; farmers, merchants, and laborers) can be found wandering around the Shadow Lands and are often non-hostile; they can be found kneeling, weeping, stacking small stones, or clasping their hands in silent prayer.

there’s a courtyard in Belurat completely filled with hornsent graves, and it’s also the place where Queelign invades you… the sheer number of graves here is horribly sad, and the fact that Queelign attacks here even after all those people were killed honestly makes him seem like an absolute monster

just look at this menace. knocking over the graves of the people he murdered. shame on you Queelign

further into Belurat there’s a very small, missable room where you can pick up the Dried Bouquet talisman: 

“A quaint bouquet of dried flowers, offered to a small grave. Raises attack power when a spirit you have summoned dies. The sorrow that flows from the untimely demise of a loved one is a tenderness shared by all, regardless of birthplace.” 

this description is pretty directly saying like, “hey, these people are human beings just like you who grieved the loved ones they lost, who couldn’t sympathize with that?”

my personal favorite examples here are the scorpion stews, which are given to you by Hornsent Grandam after defeating Divine Beast and wearing its head: 

Scorpion Stew: “Scorpion simmered in a black soup. Traditional meal of the hornsent. Boosts physical damage negation temporarily and gradually restores HP. Once made with love by a certain elderly woman for the family table. Having long gone cold, this soup gives off a rank, sour smell.” 

Gourmet Scorpion Stew: “Scorpion simmered in a black soup. An exquisite dish chock-full of mouth-watering scorpion claws. Boosts physical damage negation temporarily and gradually restores a great amount of HP. The thoughts and feelings of the cook melt and blend into the stew, but those who can distinguish the taste of love are few and far between. "Partake, partake, until thou art sated.”” 

how can you claim that the hornsent are dehumanized when grandma literally cooks you a traditional hornsent meal made with love!!! how heartbreakingly sweet is that!!! especially with the dialogue you get from Hornsent if you share the stew with him:

“What’s this? Do you think me in need of alms? Ah… but this dish. Tis fare o’ the tower. I remember fondly this kin-clad scent. …Brings back memories I’d all but forgot. This, by my troth, is but a dismal copy. Indeed, I think it rather plain to see… things once broken can never be the same.”

we’re presented with the image of a delicious traditional meal that hornsent families used to cook and eat together, and then we remember, Hornsent Grandam is all alone, she has no one but us to cook stew for, and Hornsent has no family anymore to share his stew with. 

before wrapping this up I want to mention Leda’s dialogue about the hornsent because I think it describes the situation pretty well (surprisingly well maybe, given what she’s like): 

“Long ago, Queen Marika commanded Sir Messmer to purge the tower folk. A cleansing by fire. It’s no wonder the hornsent holds the Erdtree in contempt. That aside, man is by nature a creature of conquest. And in this regard, the tower folk are no different. They were never saints. They just happened to be on the losing side of a war. But it’s still a wretched shame.”

the hornsent were not a perfect society. far from it. but no society is perfect, and the hornsent need not have all been saints for what happened to them to have been wrong. no person has the right to act as judge, jury, and executioner for an entire civilization of human beings. if people want to take the very worst of hornsent society as representative of their entire population and argue that every single one of them deserved to die then I’m afraid that’s their problem, because the game absolutely does not agree with them

[pleasuremostcarnal]

I immediately thought it was replacement cause I live in the USA and our politicians would replace all trees with the forbidden soup if they could so as to cut costs.

I will say that I do love the idea and would happily accept it happening, my only complaints are that they don't have floating goo like in lava lamps and that they probably won't come with different lighting colors and that's sad cause the lighting differences would be gorgeous

so the current main character of twitter are the algae tanks that are meant to function as "liquid trees" if u wanna call it that and people are very mad at them despite them being a cool and potentially useful concept. before anyone gets mad on this post in case it gets Literally Any Notes, notes:

algae is really really good at producing oxygen. more efficient than trees actually. it already produces like, grain of salt bc im getting a few diff numbers here from google, 50ish percent of the oxygen on earth. dw shes good at this.

no the scientists dont want to REPLACE trees thats just a shitty headline. the actual potential uses of these are plopping them down in places where you cant put another tree for whatever reason (including "theres a tree right there and it needs space"), in addition to trees bc as stated its Even Better at oxygen making, or when youre waiting for the trees to grow bc. they take a while.

if the tanks are as efficient as the scientists claim, one tank=two 10 year old trees. thats good! nice supplement to trees while youre waiting for them to grow and shit.

the one pictured also is a bench with solar lights and ports to charge your phone. thats nice!

apparently no maintenance isnt hard u just remove some of the algae once a month (which can then be used as fertilizer!) add some water and boom ur good 👍

stop saying "trees are free and require no maintenance" thats just false. the cost and maintenance are worth it!! but they do in fact have Cost And Maintenance. many good things in society are like this! please appreciate the work that goes into trees actually ty

again. not replacing trees. In Addition To. Alongside. Friends. <3.

ANYWAY, with those common things no one on twitter seems to understand out of the way, honestly im frustrated but (mostly) not ANGRY at the ppl not understanding that stuff. like, if u read past the headline u would know it, and i really wish yall would, but hey at least i understand being mislead by that awful fucking headline. i get it!!

what i am fucking pissed about is the people calling it ugly and saying no one wants slime tanks fuck you i DO want a slime tank

"but ohhh it looks like SLIME and DYSTOPIAN and blah blah blah" fuck YOU that slime is my BOYFRIENDS and i LOVE THEM. look at that gastly green color! it looks straight out of a mad scientists lab! its BEAUTIFUL!

i love algae and they are my friend and my lover and i will not stand for this fucking slander. you are all just too fucking weak to see the beauty in their hard work. you are blinded by tree propaganda, and just like bee propaganda you forget that there are OTHERS working day in and day out too. i love trees and (i LOOOOOVE bees btw) but do NOT forget the hard work done by algae.

if these things are as efficient as they claim then YES AMAZING LOVE IT, throw the cool slime benches hither and thither! mayhaps decorate them with a lil cool etched art (without compromising the efficiency) or some Fun Facts about how cool algae is and how NO THEY ARENT TREE REPLACEMENTS THEYRE TREE FRIENDS!!! THEY ARE FRIENDS!!!!!!!!! i would love nothing more than sitting at a bus stop under the green glow of my algae friends and i have been on this fucking train since i first saw cool concept art of this shit like a decade ago on tumblr. you CANNOT convince me giant green tanks of slop are anything BUT perfection.

and if anything i think they should fucking lean in to the slime thing. make some that look like giant test tubes. get nickelodeon to sponser a couple. teenage mutant ninja turtles crossover. stop listening to the fucking normies trying to convince you that Slime Bad and think of the fucking posslimbilities. EMBRACE THE SLIME.

[thoughtssvt]

trying to match the jjk men's eating pace

that one tiktok trend where you try to match the pace your partner eats bite for bite

featuring gojo satoru, geto suguru, nanami kento, fushiguro toji

g. satoru

Satoru was actually shocked when you told him you were going to get as many burgers as he was, joking that he was going to have to finish your leftovers (not that he minded). everything was going smooth as he calmly unwrapped the first burger, taking a bite that didn't seem to under or over fill his mouth, giving you a false sense of security as you chewed your food like normal. panic began to set in by his third bite, practiced hands picking up a pinch of fries to add to the bite he was working on.

you weren't sure if his bites were getting bigger or if he was starting to chew faster, but before you knew it your cheeks were full and he was already crumpling the wrapper to start his second burger, taking a casual sip from his soft drink.

it was laughable, honestly, the way you were still holding half your burger, cheeks almost painfully full, sauce extending your smile, unable to match his sip of burger-filled mouth as you tried your best to hold in your laughter. satoru none the wiser. effectively making you choke on a crumb that had you keeled over, shoulders jumping with your silent chuckles.

"woah, baby. baby, slow down." His voice full of concern, unwrapping his third burger before patting your back in attempt to clear your throat.

g. suguru

suguru always savored his food no matter what it was or how many times he's eaten it. it was great, you were glad he found solace in food considering the toll his curse technique had on his body and his relationship with food. you'd never ask him to change it, but now that you've decided to partake in this silly internet challenge the rumble of your stomach has given you some regrets.

all you wanted to do was dig in, salivating at your steaming bowl of ramen. suguru sitting in front of you, a soft smile on his face as he carefully crafted a smaller ramen bowl in his soup spoon. chopsticks steady and meticulous as he let two noodles coil onto the spoon, dipping the edge of the ceramic into the soup until the noodles just barely peeked through. you sat there, noodles pinched by your chopsticks though still submerged in the broth as he slowly arranged green onions, garlic, pork, fermented bamboo shoots and strips of dried seaweed onto the utensil.

"ah, here we go." he finally said, setting his chopsticks down making you bring your noodles out of the broth and up to your mouth until he reached for a small spoon full of chili oil.

"not that hungry yet, love?" he quirked his brows at you when he noticed your creaky movements as you waited for him, finally bringing his mini bowl of ramen into his mouth, letting the flavors melt on his tongue before starting his slow chew. you followed suit, taking a bite and a sip of the broth.

"so hungry, suguru," you comedically sniffled to yourself, averting your gaze when he began repeating the process all over again.

n. kento

kento was quick skewer the contents onto his fork or scoop his rice onto his spoon, but slow to chew. he'd been excited for this meal after all, waltzing into the kitchen with a pep in his step after leaving work on time, still in his tie as he rolled up his sleeves to begin cooking. the table ending up with a beautiful spread of new dishes that caught his attention in the magazine he picked up last weekend.

unsurprising, the conversation would be about his thoughts on how all the components melded together, how one highlighted another, what it reminded him of. always a memory of a place you two went to together, then a small smile gracing his lips as he tells you that the two of you should go there again in the future. he'd ask you your thoughts, lips forming a small o as he listened to your suggestion of adding a little bit of that the next time he wanted to cook the dish.

the only thing surprising about trying to match his pace was actually how much bread he consumed, which you hadn't realized before until you felt like bursting at the seams when he picked up his forth roll-- a new recipe with his homemade garlic oil painted on top. you'd given up a while ago, choosing to enjoy the food he cooked, his love for bread unmatched. your head in your hand as you watched him chew, anyone on the outside would've assumed that he was eating out of necessity, but under your gaze you were blinded by the sparkle in his eyes as the flavors danced on his tongue. the momentary pause of his jaw as he conjured up a tweak in the recipe to bring it to the next level.

f. toji

you honestly weren't even going to try matching his pace. he devoured. the short skewers of yakitori disappearing into his mouth in an instant, the only thing able to pull you from your amazement was the soft 'ahhhh' he let out as he widened his mouth to accept the food. he barely took the time to finish chewing before bringing another skewer to his mouth. meals with toji usually ended with him running a lithe tongue over his lips, patting his stomach before eyeing whatever was left on your plate.

"gonna finish that?" he asked, hand already reaching whether you were done with your food or not.

he hummed to himself as you walked side by side just having left the restaurant.

"a branch from a sendai restaurant just popped up, want to try their gyutan with me?"

ah, toji's bottomless stomach and his love for meat.

A/N : aahhh i'm sorry toji's section is short, not much to write when the food is gone before you can even look at it LOL i just had suguru's so clearly in my mind and i had to stop myself from writing kento actually cooking. lowkey don't think i'm equipped for these mutli character posts lol

picnic divider by @/thecutestgrotto

line divider by @/firefly-graphics

jjk men x reader masterlist

[kaiijo]

SPICY NOODLE CHALLENGE — MIYA ATSUMU

pairing: miya atsumu x fem! reader content: timeskip! atsumu, he’s whipped note: i am atsumu and atsumu is me

atsumu can already feel his anxiety mounting as he sits down with you at the izakaya you frequented. he swears there’s a cold sweat down his back as you bump his shoulder with yours and say, “i’ve been looking forward to trying this place for a while!”

“yeah,” he replies back, praying that his voice doesn’t sound as shaky as he thinks it does. “me too.”

atsumu knows he has many charms and talents: he’s funny, an amazing volleyball player, and devilishly handsome if he does say so himself (“yer certainly devilish,” osamu would say). but if there’s one thing atsumu can’t do, it’s eat spicy food. it’s something his ma and osamu and suna and nearly everyone who knows this fact teases him about.

the only reason you don’t is because atsumu didn’t tell you. not only did he not tell you, he may have oversold how much he liked spicy food to you, a spicy food fanatic.

what can he say? love makes you do crazy things.

which is how he’s here, in his current predicament: on a date with you in an izakaya that has announced its new ramen made with some of the hottest peppers in the world. apparently, if your entire table can eat their bowls of ramen without asking for anything to cool the spice in under fifteen minutes, you get the meal for free.

he’s screwed. and he really, really wants to ask you to be his girlfriend tonight but he’s not sure if he’s going to survive this challenge.

atsumu listens to you tell the waiter the two of you are partaking in their spicy noodle challenge. silently, he bids goodbye to the world and leaves all his earthly possessions to his ma and brother. then, he turns to look at you and his heart melts when he sees the big smile on your face. “i’m happy to be here with you,” you say. “i know you’ve been super busy with practices so i’m glad you made some time for me.”

“no need to be grateful,” he says, puffing his chest out a little with pride. “i’d do anythin’ for ya.”

you giggle and if he wasn’t sitting down, atsumu thinks his legs might have just turned to jelly. as you two talk, atsumu completely forgets about the spicy ramen. you’re playing with his fingers absentmindedly as you gaze into his eyes and you’re just so incredible and he can’t wait to ask you to be his and—

and then the ramen comes out and pulls atsumu from cloud nine.

he can smell the spice level, can smell the probably millions of peppers and other spices in the broth. he hesitantly lifts his chopsticks and spoon, glancing over at you. your faces lights up in anticipation and behind you, he hears the waiter tell the two of you that he’ll start the timer when you two are ready.

both of you scoop some broth onto your spoon and atsumu draws in a deep breath. “ready?” you ask him.

“yeah.” ready as he’ll ever be, atsumu shoves the spoon in his mouth and swallows. he’s waiting for the eruption of heat but it’s not there. atsumu stares down at the noodles and soup. huh, maybe it’s not as spicy as they said it was…

then, there’s a prickle in his throat that builds to a sting. it’s moving upwards, towards his tongue, building and building and no more than three seconds later, atsumu feels like his whole mouth just burst into flames. he feels sweat build on his forehead and his nose is starting to sting too.

next to him, you slurp down another portion of noodles and he’s envious of how casual you make it look, like you haven’t just swallowed the freaking sun. but he’s never been one to back down from a challenge, especially one that has so much riding on it. so atsumu puts down his spoon, picks up the bowl, and gulps down the broth, hoping that the speed will not only complete the challenge but make the spice pass faster.

he quickly learns that this was the wrong move. because his mouth is on fire like before but ten times worse. he thinks there are tears coming down his cheeks but he can’t feel anything but the spice in his mouth. even worse, he starts to cough violently and you look alarmed and there are other izakaya-goers turning to look at him.

“‘tsumu, are you okay?” you ask, patting his back. you glance back at the waiter with the timer and ask, “can you get us some milk?”

“are you sure?” the waiter asks back. “you’ll forfeit the challenge—”

you reply, “i know and i’m sure.” the waiter stops the timer and scurries off to complete your request. meanwhile, you use your hand to fan atsumu and push the glass of water he reaches for away, saying, “that’ll make it so much worse.”

thankfully, the waiter comes back with two tall glasses of milk and atsumu chugs that like his water at volleyball matches. his tongue screams with relief as the burn is doused by the drink. he finishes the milk in seconds and you hand him the other glass without a word, and he does the same thing.

you rub his back comfortingly and atsumu is embarrassed to know you can feel his sweat through the nice shirt he wore for your date. he sighs to himself, using a napkin to wipe his damp face. well, he thinks he may as well come clean to you after that near-death experience. “can be honest with ya, baby?”

you nod kindly and he says, “i can’t eat spicy food.”

your eyebrows raise and then knit together in worry. “really? i’m so sorry, atsumu, i would’ve never made us eat so much of it if i’d know!”

he shakes his head vehemently. “none of this is your fault. all on me, promise.”

you’re gently when you ask, “why didn’t you tell me?”

“wanted ya to like me. didn’t want to seem like a loser,” he says, face heating up even more.

you chuckle and lean your head on his shoulder. “you are a loser, but you’re my loser.”

“wow,” he huffs, “way to kick a man when he’s down.”

“seriously, though, ‘tsumu, it doesn’t matter if you like spicy food or not! i like you no matter what.”

“really?”

“yes, really.” you poke his thigh. “how shallow do you think i am?”

“wouldn’t be askin’ ya to be my girlfriend if ya were.”

you leaner further into him, ignoring his dampness. “you’re asking me to be your girlfriend?”

“if ya’ll have me,” he says. “shit spice tolerance and all.”

you lift your head from his shoulder and peck his cheek. “of course i will. shit spice tolerance and all.”

[solarpunkani]

You know what I feel we need more of?

Community centers.

Specifically, places where people can gather, have fun, host events or even just hang out. Similar to what libraries are, but not quite--a place where kids can be loud and rowdy and hang out, make friends, practice sports. Though they definitely should still have quiet areas, maybe craft rooms too. A nice place to go to and hang out after school before you're ready to head home--or a safe place to stay if you don't want to head home. Community centers could also still be fantastic for adults too--they could be used as a place to host classes on different crafts, or repairs, etc.--and still be a perfectly valid place to hang out and seek refuge.

Places like these do exist in many places in a few different forms, but a lot of them are directly tied to organizations and groups that may make people more hesitant to partake in them (ie churches, Police Athletic Leagues), or they have a cost barrier to taking part of the amenities (YMCA). While these places are definitely suitable and fulfilling for many people, they're often limiting and stifling for others--if not just flat-out inaccessible. Not to mention, they don't all fill the roles I mentioned above.

I think having robust community centers would be great for societies all over. I'll admit, my imagination is a bit grand--community gardens, sports rec rooms, swimming pools, reading and craft rooms, a repair cafe, a food cafe, maybe a dorming area for overnight stays, soup kitchens, showers, mutual aid closets and such.

Though I guess that brings about the question of how this would be funded. With churches, it's tithes and other forms of community fundraising. With police athletic leagues, its... taxes, I guess? Alongside other donations. And with the YMCA, it's memberships that provide the funding for their amenities. My initial instinct is to say a mix of taxes and maybe some community contributions would be what funds a good community center, but then there comes the issue of some places having better or worse community centers depending on the median income of their area... especially when you see how places like libraries already get little funding in favor of larger policing budgets (the libraries in my city are all closed on Sundays, and have shorter hours in general, for example)

I know I'm just rambling at this point. I just think community centers are cool! They're punk! And we should have them--cool, fun community centers!

[lilith-of-stardust]

Mrs Chapman's Boarding House is a venerable Fallen London institution where Londoners of all walks of life come and partake of the soup and lounge in the numerous parlors. That, however, was only after the Fall. Here stands Mrs Chapman's circa 1862, significantly more Euclidean in nature.

There were some poetic liberties taken to make the canon appearance of the house play nice with the physical limitations of the Sims (The attic room was at least two hours of my life...). The bottom four photos are the parlor, Archie's bedroom, Griz's desk, and the kitchen.

Mrs Chapman's Boarding House on the gallery or search user CrownedCorvine

Some other liberties & Easter eggs (& some spoilers!):

The canon appearance of the building is a triple decker; but in-game there's mention of how few rooms are currently available. Given that the attic room is very much not a part of the triple-decker setup, the building has been shortened to two full stories + attic. There is, however, an extra room, which begs the question: why did Moss need to take Archie's room...? I guess we'll never know. Perhaps Horatia had someone in mind she was keeping it open for.

As the heart of the house - in a manner of speaking - it stands to reason that Horatia would keep the room off of the kitchen for herself, though initially intended as a the servants' room.

Horatia strikes me as someone who would be at the vanguard of health and shell out for indoor plumbing the moment it was readily available; cleanliness is next to Godliness, after all. The main bathroom on the first floor has been expanded and had a soaking tub installed in recent years.

With the rest of the house heavily decorated and cozy, Horatia's bedroom is her space to reflect and clear her head, and therefore is sparse, save for a tin-type photo of her father above her bed.

There are no directly biblical art pieces in the Sims so instead of the lion and the lamb on the mantelpiece, I went with the rooster, which historically has been used as a symbol of recognizing one's own sins and seeking redemption in Christianity. I hope Horatia doesn't mind the replacement.

The mannequin is dressed in what I usually purchase for my MCs to wear in MotR: the taupe gentleman's greatcoat and top hat.

On the desk in the attic, there's a book from which a Sim can learn the spell "inferniate" - this is as close as I could get to a Sim being able to write sigils, which burn when written on normal paper.

Griz's grew up around tenant farmers and specifically mentions horses when you ask her about her childhood; the horse statue on her desk helps stave off the homesickness for greener pastures back on the estate, though it seldom strikes.

There are glasses on Archie's bedside table, referencing the fact if you pursue the manifesto plotline, he'll reward you with the dark posing spectacles.

Horatia is known for her cooking, and, when she can, she leaves baked goods in the parlor. Here, there are some Yorkshire puddings... or, if you're a nasty American like me, some popovers.

Of course, the Sims doesn't allow for strange sprawling and recursive architectury (yet) so I will not be attempting later iterations of Mrs Chapman's humble abode. :)

[korkietism]

Tokoyami is proudly a little freak. Bird behaviour + autism + goth means he is such a weirdo. The class realizes just how strange Tokoyami is once the dorm system is in place

He perched on any and all furniture, doesn’t eat in a meal schedule really- he more so eats snacks throughout the day- though partakes in dinner more often than not. He genuinely wears cloaks around the house or really big hoodies. He does not talk much at all. He’s honestly like the dorm cryptid. He kind of just appears to grab 3 yogurts and leaves. He eats weird shit in weird quantities and may or may not have a minor habit of stealing cooking ingredients (chopped vegetables for soup left on the cutting board are never safe.) dark shadow is also a shit so there’s that.

[wutheringcaterpillar]

I’ll Always Be Your Boy

Summary: Tommy reminisced back to his lost love, his first and only love. It had been years since he’s seen you, and one night when he pulls into your driveway, it all becomes too much for far too long. He needed to be reunited with you, even if the cost was his life.

Warnings: Suicide, drug addiction (opium), trauma, flashbacks, mentions of death, mention of tommy’s mom, mention of miscarriage

Partially inspired by the song below, be prepared with tissues y’all🥹

The brisk midnight air rolled in through the foggy car window as he pulled into the rocky driveway, still trying to figure out what the fuck he was doing here. Tommy hadn’t seen you in years but yet you still crossed his mind, he still worried about you even though he had taken the most vulnerable part of you and shattered it into a million tiny pieces. Now here he was staring at the damaged, once white house that he once promised to fix up before the argument. The wooden fencing now fading, the deteriorating paint now detailing the uncut grass, green vines covering the width.

Pulling out his cigarettes, he brushed the unflamed end over his plush, chilled lips.

The trees bristled, whistling and bellowing through the atmosphere, scattering leaves around the yard.

Tommy thought back to a a particular afternoon, reminiscing the way you laughed when he tripped and fell into a mud puddle, the way you smiled brightly whenever he would partake in hobbies you enjoyed such as creating masterful works of art out of chalk on the stoned sidewalk. 

You were graceful, mesmerizing everything Tommy could’ve asked for in a woman, most of all you cared for him. Making him soup when he was feeling ill, running a warm bath to a temperature of his liking, knowing how to calm him from an angry fit or a stressful day. 

God did he miss you, he’d do anything for the chance to take it all back, to treat you kindly and cherish you, give you anything your little ecstatic heart desired, but he fucked it up and he blamed himself every second of every passing day.

He wished and prayed that you knew there was no moving on, you held his heart and he was still that boy you fell in love with all that time ago.

A day hadn’t passed where he didn’t think of you but times were becoming tough. The business was failing, any woman that approached him, he simply ignored, only wanting you back.

Stepping out of the car, he approached the house ignoring the silhouettes of storm clouds rolling in accompanied by a deep, rumbling thunder. 

Scanning the rooms, he stopped near the kitchen doorway, glancing at the stove where he had partaken in baking sweets with you. He didn’t like desserts himself but what you made you happy made him happy, and he’d always at least taste whatever you made. He would try to help, to assist in rolling dough, gathering ingredients and putting trays in the oven but you always shoved him playfully away after burning a batch of baked goods, putting him instead on the job of decorating. 

Smiling softly, he carried on, stopping every now and then as he walked down the crooked, abandoned hallway, glancing at the dusty photos that still stay portrayed on the walls.

A photo of your first date in a milkshake shack, splitting a chocolate shake while giggling with one another, this was just moments before you had convinced him to go rollerblading and he can still say to this day, that was the most fun he’s ever had, for some reason it made him feel alive.

As he carried on scanning the house, he’d heard objects moving while the abandoned floor boards creaked. He could see the shapes of shadows in the distance but he didn’t feel scared or endangered. Perhaps it was you.

“It’s just me love, nothing to be afraid of.” He wished he could see you, he had missed you tremendously but still blamed himself for your death. He should’ve been there, he could’ve stopped it, and now he was reaping the consequences with a broken heart.

When he approached his final destination, he was greeted with a hole in the rickety old door, flashing back to the time where you’d had your first and last fight over what now seemed to be a pointless event, an event he regretted. If he had knew that would be the last time he saw you, the final thing he’d said to you, the frigid, cold words would’ve never escaped his lips, and he knew very well that the argument was a misunderstanding.

Dragging his feet over to the bed, he removed a bottle of opium from his jacket. That was the only thing getting him through this. He had tried to off himself multiple times, just wanting to see you once more, they even had to confine him in the draft which was nearly unheard of.

Pulling out a needle, he punctured his arm after increasing the dose. Almost instantly he could feel his thoughts slowing, a euphoric rush running through his veins causing him to feel tired and lay down on the abandoned bed. The awful fight replaying in his mind.

Bursting through the door, you jumped in the sitting position of your bed, the book in your lap tumbling down onto the floor from being startled. 

Tommy stood in the doorway, bottle of whiskey in hand with drenched, disheveled hair from the pouring rain.

“Where have you been? I needed you, and you weren’t there!” Tears brimmed at your eye lids seeing him in this state, knowing that you should’ve been there but you couldn’t. 

Standing up while the tears streamed like a river down your heated cheeks, you closed the door and turned to Tommy.

His angelic blue eyes had a clear perception of pain, himself also crying. Tommy never asked you for anything, not once.

“Y’know not everything is about you, maybe if you stopped and looked around every once in awhile you’d realize that but I guess it was stupid on my part to believe you ever truly loved me. You are just a selfish girl, and I can’t believe that for a moment I thought you gave a shit about me.” You tugged at his arm, begging and pleading for him to hear your side of the story as to why you weren’t present at his mother’s funeral but he wouldn’t listen. Hearing your excuses only fueled the anger and extreme upset inside of him but he didn’t know you were dealing with a loss of your own.

“Listen to me, please! I love you Tommy I do, you just don’t understand I-“

“No, no don’t do that. You don’t get to do that I have a crystal clear understanding that I can’t be with someone who doesn’t and never has given a shit about me. Enjoy your life Y/N, because I’m not sure if I want to be in it anymore if all it’s going to be is excuses. I really thought you were different, but you’re just like any other useless whore.” Slamming his fist through the door in aggravation and immense upset, the sound echoed through the house. His words stung like a bee, a sharp and direct hit to your heart.

The following morning Tommy woke from a deep slumber, arm reaching for you only to realize you weren’t there, half of the bed was empty.

He had regretted those things he said, he should have heard you out but all of his withheld emotions came crashing down on him like a hurricane. 

Getting up and dressed, he decided the best way to apologize was to go and retrieve your favorite flowers and take you out on the town. He could be such an ass sometimes but he was still learning. 

Heading to the kitchen Pol was shocked to see him out of bed, bright eyes and bushie tailed, dressed to the tens.

“I’m surprised you’re up so early given the events of last night. If you need anything don’t be frightened to reach out Thomas, we all need a little help sometimes. Sweet girl she was.” 

“Who are you talking about? If it was that Lee girl I’m not surprised, bat shit crazy she was.” Tommy poured himself a cup of tea, adding only cream before reaching for the paper and sitting at the kitchen table.

“No one told you?” Tommy looked at his aunt confused while taking a sip of his tea. Pol relaxed her tone knowing full well this would break her nephew’s heart. With sympathetic eyes, she settled her hand atop of his.

“There was a fire last night. Y/N didn’t make it.” Tommy froze, this couldn’t possibly be true. Pol could see the panic and disbelief in Tommy’s baby blue eyes. When she tried to walk over and console him, he bolted for the door needing to see for himself.

In a fiery fit of anger and sadness he sped over to your house, seeing the damage that has been done. In that moment his heart shattered into a million pieces and he punched the steering wheel repeatedly.

“Fuck!” The thick walls of his mind were closing. If he had controlled his temper, he would’ve been there, he would’ve been able to pull you out of the fire and save the most important piece of his heart. Why you? Why not him? He had nothing to live for without you. He never even got the chance to apologize.

The only thing that seemed to be intact was your car parked in the grass near the mailbox. Stumbling out of his car, he needed to know, know what it was you weren’t telling him that day. What it was he didn’t even give you a chance to say.

Rummaging through clothes, and misplaced papers and pens, he opened the glove box only to find something that changed everything the day of his mother’s funeral.

Pulling out the small piece of paper, his hands trembled as he stared down at the ultrasound of what would have been your bundle of joy. 

All of your emotions from that day seemed to seep into his mind. You must’ve been so scared, felt so alone. Why didn’t you tell him?

Flipping the paper over he noticed writing.

TIME OF DEATH: 11:25 am.

11/20/1913 

10 weeks old.

You had miscarried just two hours before the funeral and he was too busy shouting out you to know. The tears sprang freely, his heart aching as he wept in the passenger seat feeling the world crashing down him, accompanied by the profound loss of someone he loved.

As the opium kicked in, he lay his dreary, spinning head onto the singed pillow, clenching his fists in what was left of your crisp sheets.

His eyes became heavy, limbs weak while his head span in a euphoric frenzy. Your face flashed through his mind, memories and moments shared together. 

The sun was rising through the window peering in through the burnt curtains as Tommy’s vision became blurry and he could see sparkling orbs forming aside him a figure kneeling on the floor with what looked to be a child.

“Come daddy, mommy’s waiting.” The young girl’s voice was subtle, calming. She lay her delicate small hand on her father’s.

Through his clouded perception he could see she had his bright blue eyes and your facial features. She was beautiful just like her mother.

Beads of sweat formed upon his temple, the rush taking over his body bringing a sense of tranquility. Just before he stopped breathing, your voice spoke melodically through his head, bringing a sense of comfort.

“I’m here now. You can let go. We’ve been waiting for you.” He had never felt more at ease then he did now, drifting off into unconsciousness, awaiting his sweet descent into his lover’s arms being reunited as a family, forever content.

[carionto]

Too tough for paradise

One peculiar side effect of Humans hailing from a Deathworld is that their biological well-being is partly dependent on some degree of microscopic hostility from the environment and what they consume.

It is normal among most species that, should their surroundings change to more hospitable conditions, their minds and bodies would feel relief and be under less stress. However, as with any changes, if they deviate too far too quickly from their normal, you risk damage from a sudden shock to the system.

___________________________

Abigail "Abby" Hostaz had been legally grounded by the Gyin-Trov due to her, ahem, "expansion of business" without the right permits. Not that she bothered to learn that nobody outside Human controlled space in the Galactic Coalition would allow the creation of a deadly asteroid race track AND let sentient beings directly pilot ships through it.

Hell, finding an Alien crazy enough to partake in an activity even most Humans consider insane is one in a trillion. She still did find seven non-Humans, so that math actually is within a reasonable margin. Everything else is not reasonable.

The local Gyin-Trov government learned of the true nature of her activities when a rogue asteroid suddenly appeared on their threat detection systems. The unnatural change of course quickly pointed to where she had set up her latest "thrill track", which the authorities rapidly dismantled, impounded her vessel, named "Victor", and put her under house arrest in the Human embassy awaiting the conclusion of the investigation and subsequent trial.

While station based embassies are effectively fully contained perfect habitats for the respective species, planet based ones tend to adopt a lot of the local elements and integrate what they can simply due to proximity and availability.

Humans, the resourceful buggers that they are, used everything the planet had to offer (that wasn't outright lethal to Humans, which in the case of the Gyin-Trov homeworld were only a few pollen producing crops found in the poles of the planet).

A combination of a almost perfect temperature range (near constant lows of 14C at night, highs of 21C mid-day), slightly higher moisture levels, and bio-engineered local flora that made the water into this somewhat thicker soup containing virtually every nutrient, vitamin and mineral a carbon-based lifeform could ever want, leaving little for the digestive system to tackle. Heck, just being within a field of such plants lets the body absorb everything for healthy survival.

In short, the Gyin-Trov homeworld, also named Gyin-Trov, is as close to Utopia as you can get.

Aaaaaaand Abby is not having a fun time there.

It's not like she was imprisoned - she was allowed to wander around the city and surrounding area under light supervision, she even had her cat, Hector, with her. But there just wasn't enough excitement to be found anywhere.

They had arcades and various physical activities, but she never felt her body grow tired after hours of competitive gaming and contests. No feeling of hunger or exhaustion ever disturbed her focus. The only thing that kept Abby from becoming, essentially, a zombie perpetually engaged in whatever activity was most fun at the moment was the inherent nature of the Human brain - it gets... wobbly after a while and needs sleep.

Not even a week had passed and people noticed Abby had become... different. No strong reactions to anything, no outbursts of some crazy ideas, just a general positive but not quite cheerful apathy. The Human ambassadors had experienced a much milder version of this, and it is theorized that they did not deem it as concerning due to the simple fact the ambassadors always had something to do, and more importantly - something that put their minds, if not bodies, to the test. Regular challenges, worries, and stress from work in general kept them on edge in some ways.

Abby was just waiting around, "put on vacation" as one of the ambassadors had put it. After a couple of more days of this peace, she seemed more like a automaton than anything else. Mindlessly going from place to place, trying out whatever activities were available, but clearly none offered anything close to the level of excitement and danger she had grown so used to. Not even the flawed thirty year old Human body she was in offered any surprises or discomforts.

Everything was just perfectly fine.

When the paperwork finally cleared and she was issued a fine and formally banned from engaging in any construction efforts in Gyin-Trov controlled space, she was reunited with Victor, and the personality changes she had undergone during her short time were seemingly instantly reversed.

Once she was in her ship and the self-diagnostics showed a few blinking lights, Abby immediately became energized and took action. Breathing in the recycled air with a hint of dry rust made that old bruise on her right side make itself known again. She pulled an all-nighter making repairs and "adjustments" to Victor and collapsed from exhaustion on the hard floor.

The next day, she was already near the border to neutral space when she noticed a dwarf planet with a rock formation in the shape of a trebuchet (very vaguely, if you squint really, really hard, and imagine half of the parts), and that gave her an idea.

All the while, Hector the cat did not exhibit any noticeable changes during his stay with Abby on Gyin-Trov. Maybe just a few more hours of sleep per day than normal.

[lmaonade]

i’m sick like a dog so i’m partaking in my soup mug paradise