#food mention /

[catfindr]

[lovecore-muppet]

[image description: a meme showing a scene from SpongeBob. An orange background fish sits in front of a fire, roasting a marshmallow, while SpongeBob pops up from the sand behind the fish. The fish is labeled: “my DS which hasn’t seen the light of day since 2007 chillin at 57%”. SpongeBob is labeled: “me cleaning my room”. End ID]

[ssslimyboy]

Roman: One time Remus' friend Janus came over.

Roman: All they did was lie seductively on the piano and feed themself grapes.

Roman: I don't really like that guy, but I admire their lifestyle.

[warcats-cat]

Frat Boiz

Summary: The first Friday night of every month was pizza and movies night, and the second Sunday of every month was movies and snuggles (aka date night). There were two reasons for the necessity of this distinction of dates, and their names were Apollo and Dionysus.

A/N: Hello my darlings! (hehe) This one is short and sweet; I've been holding onto for a bit. It's actually the second one I ever wrote (and happened to be Halloween at the time, hence the movies) and I've been debating posting it as always, but I want to bring in more Apollo and some of the other Olympian Siblings **kicks pile of wips under my bed** so I do hope you guys like their dynamic. Thanks as always to @lickoutyourbrains for being my lovely beta, although they may not remember this one actually... 😅

Also, the end note will link to my reference for Apollo, which I am using with credit from the artist. Please let me know if I need to add any other tags, and as always, ENJOY!!!

Read on Ao3 Here!

The first Friday night of every month was pizza and movies night, and the second Sunday of every month was movies and snuggles (aka date night). There were two reasons for the necessity of this distinction of dates, and their names were Apollo and Dionysus.

You’d never admit it to anyone, but you really did adore how close Hermes was with his brothers. He played a lot of pranks on the other Olympians, and many of them gave back as good as they got, but the three of them specifically (and occasionally Artemis when she was feeling especially devious) were engaged in a millennia-old prank war. Your apartment, thankfully, had become neutral ground, after an incident involving a beer keg being poured off of your apartment's roof like rain (thoroughly soaking Hermes and missing you by millimeters) and rather upsetting your landlord…

You could still remember Dionysus laughing: “Get it? It's a golden shower!”

But that also meant that that's where the other two wanted to hang out with the ‘middle child’, because Hermes spent so much of his free time with you instead of with them. Which led to “pizza and movies Friday” - your way of keeping the three of them on relatively good behavior when inside your home.

There was a handsome leopard skin coat hanging by your door at the moment, ten different bottles of alcohol on the coffee table, two empty pizza boxes on the kitchen table, and three ethereally beautiful men passed out on the floor of your living room.

You smiled, gently nudging Apollo’s shoulder with your foot. He grumbled in response, otherwise unmoving.

The four of you (Artemis was out with her hunters this weekend on a girls trip, probably bathed in blood by now) had sat down for scary movies for the spooky season; starting with the original Dracula, partially to laugh at, and then moving forward through the years. Scream, IT, Nightmare on Elm Street, Texas Chainsaw Massacre, and a bunch of other Halloween movies had all passed by in a blur until it was three-thirty am and you were half on top of Hermes as he had pushed his brothers off the couch so you could comfortably lay down. You’d forced them to take a break about midnight so you could watch Little Shop of Horrors; you weren't a wimp but you weren't really into the gory stuff either, and since it was your apartment and you’d bought the pizza (and three bottles of wine), they had to acquiesce.

Some time around three am they all started speaking exclusively in old Greek. Which was great.

You nudged Apollo again, which he grumbled at some more and rolled away from your reach, onto Dionysus, who kicked in his own unconscious state and almost knocked over the coffee table. Damn divine strength. Hermes was right under the couch, face down. The wings where his ears would be twitched a little as he slept and your smile widened; you loved playing with his hair and - when he allowed it - petting the silky soft feathers. It was so interesting, the way the wings moved with his emotions; especially with you, when he was more relaxed and let them loose instead of pressed tight against his hair.

It was close to ten am, now; thankfully you'd had the forethought to close your window curtains to keep the light out, so none of you awoke to the screaming brightness alongside a hangover. You hadn't drank a lot, but you did have a headache and a bit of a dry mouth to greet you when you woke.

You weren't really sure how Hermes had fallen off the couch, since he had been behind you and cuddling you like his personal teddy bear when you fell asleep. You also weren't really sure why they'd all chosen to just sleep on the floor when there was a perfectly good air mattress in your front closet that they'd slept on before, but whatever.

Who was a mortal to question a god?

Breakfast would be nice, though…

Carefully, you climbed around the couch to get closer to the kitchen, and leave the sleeping gods where they lay. You didn't really cook breakfast that often, usually opting for pop tarts or granola bars as you left for work, but there were a few ingredients in the fridge you could probably use. Hermes left food in there all the time, anyway, and it never seemed to spoil any more.

That was also a big perk of having a divine boyfriend; groceries that didn't go bad.

Rooting around the fridge and freezer, you found a few basics - eggs, milk, cheese, various meats that were probably dropped off by one of the Twins, and frozen toaster waffles. A veritable feast of a hangover cure.

You set about making some scrambled eggs; the simple recipes were always your go-to, and none of your guests ever seemed to mind. While waiting for the pan to heat with a little butter, you popped two waffles into the toaster and grabbed your phone to look at pictures from last night.

There were a lot of terrible, shaky selfies, but also some really cute pictures you would have to print for your walls. You and Hermes cuddled together, reading something from his phone; all four of you making very dumb faces at the camera; Dionysus posing with his leopard skin coat wrapped around his hips like a loin cloth (covering much more of the back than the front,  but with the sleeves draped just so to hide the important part); Apollo and Hermes arm wrestling. One photo you sent to Artemis - the three men laying in a pile, red-faced and about halfway unconscious, hanging off the couch cushions. That was right before you’d yawned and Hermes had made his brothers move.

You heard grumbling as you cracked the first two eggs, thinking you'd might as well make the whole dozen in one go. Anything they didn't eat, you could have later for a lunch or something. The grumbling got a little louder, and you leaned back into the living room in time to see Dionysus elbow Apollo right in the face, making the sun god yell indignantly.

Oh dear. Oh well…

“Food!” You called, hoping to stop a real fist fight before it started. Hermes sat right up, both wings spread out as if on the alert, but his eyes still glazed with sleep.

“Hm?” He looked at you, sort of though you, and blinked a few times. The other brothers had also frozen mid-attack, and were now staring at you; peering from the dark living room into the lighted kitchen.

It was like three raccoons with glowing eyes watching you from a trash can.

“Food.” You repeated, as they stared. A few beats of silence later and you added on, “Scrambled eggs?”

Like the beasts they were, all three perked up, now smelling the sizzling eggs. Hermes was the first in the kitchen, being both the closest and the god of speed, and he gave you a very sweet kiss on the cheek as he began to help you cook. You couldn't complain, he was a better chef than you; and he was a much better judge dealing with the venison gifted by the Twins. Frozen chicken nuggets were more your speed…

Apollo and Dio joined the pair of you only a few moments later. The sun god stretched, showing off his bare chest and various tattoos which looked like etchings of gold set into the marble of his skin. Meanwhile, the god of wine sat at your little kitchen table, apparently having summoned champagne for mimosas.

The four of you made idle conversation; the three brothers now playing gentlemen insisted that you have the first plate of eggs and waffle, and you sat next to Dio as Hermes handed you a bag of chocolate chips from the pantry. You both had a sweet tooth - he knew you so well. Various questions of ‘how did you sleep’ and ‘how many eggs’ were exchanged. It was mostly a warm morning, and you were just happy for the company. With all four of you finally seated with your plates, more focused conversation could begin.

All three would have to leave soon; they all had jobs to be doing, whether that be on Earth or Olympus. You knew Hermes would be starting off somewhere in France picking up a package from Hera in one of her summer homes - most likely another round of Divorce papers which would be responded to with another round of apology letters. Maybe Zeus would show up in person this time.

You laughed as you showed off the pictures you took, “the three of you are worse than frat boys sometimes,” you teased.

Apollo dramatically feigned offense, “I’ll have you know I am the epitome of class.”

You flashed a mildly evil smile; “sure,” you replied, “lots of class from the man who has swirly gold tattoos on his ass.”

This comment made the sun god turn white; Hermes choked on an egg and Dio snorted mimosa right out his nose.

“Who told you that?” Apollo hissed, looking scandalized. He had several lovers who shared his home and time, and you'd met three of them so far. You grinned.

“Hyacinthus may have let it slip.” You replied. In truth, he had scrolled one photo too far while showing you snapshots of different outfits worn to some fancy event (maybe something related to the Olympics?), and you'd seen significantly more of the sun god than strictly necessary; thankfully from the back… You knew there was no malice in Apollo's actions; at worst, Hyacinth would be texting you later that his credit card privileges were taken away for a week. You’d take him out for a massage or drinks or something sometime soon, and that would restore the balance.

Dionysus laughed, his head thrown back and his eyes tearing up. Hermes was laughing as well, but took a minute to kiss you and say softly in your ear, “god I love you.” Apollo pouted, but his puppy-eyes and trembling lip disappeared as you passed him the champagne. You were certain he'd have something to tease you and Hermes about soon enough.

After a little more breakfast, along with a little more champagne and a little more banter, the three were kind enough to help you clear the table (you could deal with dishes later) and begin gathering their things to leave. You grabbed Dio’s coat to hand it to him, and he ruffled your hair affectionately and said, “next time, we’ll show ya how to party on Olympus,” before leaving - still barefoot.

Somehow that felt a little bit like a playful threat. It was certainly an intimidating thought, you were sure his parties were more wild than any college movie could depict.

Apollo smirked, took your hand, and softly kissed your knuckles, once again a gentleman. “Was my offering acceptable, Lord Apollo?” You asked playfully, referring to the eggs and previous night's pizza. He grinned.

“Acceptable, I suppose.” he replied, giving Hermes a light punch on the shoulder and saying something like “see you later, feathers,” before also taking his leave.

“Feathers. I like that nickname.” You said, as Hermes' arms snaked around you. He smiled, bright and loving, and you could see the silver in his eyes glowing just a bit.

“I'm glad you can hold your own against my siblings,” he said, giving you another kiss. You chuckled.

“Well, I have to hold my own against you, don't I?” You replied, sliding your own hands down to his waist and slipping a hand into his messenger bag. Right at the top, just inside a little pocket, was your phone, which you pulled back out and waved for him to see. He only looked proud - proud of himself and proud of you knowing him so well.

“Yes. Yes you do.” He readjusted his bag and leaned down to tighten his sandals, and you took the chance to muss his hair again, make him stay a moment longer. You grabbed his sunglasses from the coffee table while he put on his helmet, and then he was ready.

You had the rest of the day to yourself, the day off from work and no pressing errands. Maybe you would read a book or scroll on your phone. One last kiss goodbye and Hermes was gone, but you knew he would be back soon.

And right on time as you returned to the couch, your phone lit up with a text. Hyacinthus.

Your life was crazy, but you sure did love it.

-----

Check out Apollo's tattoos designed by @bambiilooloo !!! Thanks again for letting me reference your art! I *still* can't get over those swirlies 🤣🤣🤣🤣!!!

Also "three raccoons with glowing eyes staring at you from a trash can" is probably my favorite line I have ever and will ever write (/hj)

[writing-is-a-martial-art]

You meet god and she's mostly dead fish. You ask her why and she says most of the world is dead fish, and she's made herself to appeal to the most common denominator, the everyman funnyman comedy show that runs for eleven seasons but with the entire universe in mind. You ask her how much of the dead fish is your fault, she says it's far less than you'd think, in the grand scheme of things. You ask her if you matter at all. If you can do anything. She shrugs her rotting shoulders and says mattering is a made-up concept, like life, but sure, you can matter if you want to, on some scale. She has many scales. She doesn't know what you mean by 'anything', but you can do everything you can. You ask her if it's enough. She says there's no base requirement for deserving to exist. She's smoking a joint and the smoke filtering out of her gills gathers and forms gas giants and red dwarfs. You ask her if there's any hidden secrets of the universe you should know and she says it's not a secret if she tells, plus it's fun to let you figure it out yourself. You ask her if any of your questions were right questions and she says you worry about being right so much it might keep you from fucking around, which is as close to meaning of life as she ever bothered to make. You don't ask but she says she loves your hair, also your whole being, also your planet. She says she figured out what love is yesterday and is trying it out, which explains the ten thousand rainbows and sudden influx in rains of fish. She offers you a drag of her joint and you wake up half past midnight behind a chain restaurant clutching a smoked salmon. The new stars are winking like they're in on some joke and you're sure if you try hard enough you'll remember what it is.

[tinierpurplefishes]

This is more advertising weasel language than meme, but it always amuses me when I see something claimed to be "up to 100%" reliable. Because even if it completely fails every time, that's still technically true, since 0% is "up to 100%."

More favourite numerical memes:

Implicit or implicit enumeration of uncountable things (example: taking inventory of the fucks which one gives)

Suggesting the divisibility of things which are not customarily thought of as able to be subdivided (example: "six whole people")

Using words that aren't numbers as numbers (example: "one William dollars")

Technically correct but contextually misleading estimates (example: looking at a group of several thousand things and observing that there are "at least three")

Incongruous qualifiers for apparently simple sums or tallies (example: she was twenty-seven years old, not counting 2014)

[tj-crochets]

An onigiri drawstring backpack! The nori is open at the top so it has two little pockets

[thebibliosphere]

MCAS update: since starting iron treatment with the aim to get my ferritin stores over 100 for migraine prevention, I’ve finally been able to raise my protein intake.

(Hey, did you guys know that while some MCAS patients present with abnormally high levels of ferritin, low ferritin can cause mast cells to degranulate? And mast cells store and release ferritin when they degranulate, so it’s like a shitty ouroboros of self-fulfilling misery? I didn’t. No one told me, the person with a mast cell disease and chronic lifelong anemia 🙃🙃🙃)

This is a big deal for me because even after years of treatment, this time last year I was living on 7-16g of protein a day because attempting to eat more than that was priming me for an anaphylactic reaction.

As of today, after 3 months of consistent iron treatment, I’m able to eat 50-60g a day.

Progress!!! 🎉

[sleepymccoy]

This is also a bit of a culture query, cos these are all in my house so I genuinely cook with these all (except chicken salt, that's been in my cupboard for ages)

But I'm not from the USA and most people here are, so I wonder if that's similar! Maybe your cupboard is identical to mine. Maybe we use the same stuff but call it something else. Maybe USA has a different relationship with pre mix spices and you use none of it. Maybe you've never heard of pre mix spices. I dunno. That's why I'm asking!

I use plain herbs and spices as well. Especially when making a complex meal I'll do it myself. But I use pre mixes other times, so I'm voting. Voting for a pre mix doesn't mean you don't also use paprika! If you genuinely have no pre mixes in the kitchen tho, then hell yeah, tell me!

Also, I know I haven't listed everything in the world. One, that's impossible. Two, this is a bit of a culture thing so I just checked my kitchen and used those. This selection is representative of me only

(you don't have to be from the USA to vote, obvs, we just all know that's how the results will end up. Please tell me about your spice mixes in other countries!!)

Morrison spice blend: Pepper, tumeric, ginger, cardamom, parsley, salt

Chinese five spice: Star anise, cinnamon, clove, fennel, Sichuan pepper

Chicken salt: Salt, chicken stock, garlic, paprika, pepper, onion, celery

Gluhwein gewurz: Orange peel, cinnamon, lemon peel, star anise, hibiscus, clove

Chimichurri: parsley, garlic, oregano, vinegar, chilli, salt, pepper

Za'atar: thyme, cumin, coriander, sesame seeds, sumac, salt, chilli

Garam masala: coriander, cumin, cardamom, cloves, pepper, cinnamon, nutmeg

[tinierpurplefishes]

In 6 months: yeah, i think you just need to lose some weight. maybe reduce your stress levels

Alt health clowns: all doctors just diagnose whatever fake diseases they need to push evil toxic pills!!!

Actual doctors: wow sorry to hear that your bones dissolved and your eyes flew out and exploded and all your skin fell off, try drinking more water and sleeping better and if the pain gets worse in 6 months we'll do some tests to see if you deserve a aspirin

[catfindr]

[prokopetz]

The real reason your sapient dragon character needs a "rider":

Dragons on the wing are vulnerable to being mobbed by smaller, more agile flyers, particularly in your large rear blind spot, like a bird of prey being mobbed by crows. Having a human armed with a long spear perched on your back helps to dissuade anyone from getting any funny ideas.

Breath weapons are impressive enough on the ground, but in flight they're really only good for strafing stationary targets; trying to use your breath weapon in an aerial dogfight is a good way to get fire up your nose. A real fight calls for sterner measures – and, concomitantly, a crew to aim and reload the cannons.

In today's competitive world, it's not enough to devour a flock of sheep and call it a day if you want to keep your edge. You're accompanied at all times by a qualified personal alchemist tasked with carefully regulating your internal furnace to ensure peak performance, and sometimes you even listen to them.

No dragon of any quality would be caught dead without their valet. It's not as though you can announce your numerous long-winded titles yourself when introductions are called for, can you? You suppose next you'll be expected to pick up the spoils of your conquests yourself, like a common brigand. Perish the thought!

[tinierpurplefishes]

By eating half a quarter, she's reinvented pieces of eight!

[espeonkin]

light? never, MUST DIE

PRINCESS are my favorite guy

DINNER, i'm wanting more

DUKE ONKLED, scrub the floor

OAH, hear the king go munf

SQUADALA, we are off!

TOASTERS TOASTING overload

EVERYBODY PIIIIIIIIINGAAAAAAS

[tommysbrat]

these were the most popular on this post if I missed other popular ones I'm sorry

* note: they can be non-dairy for those who don't/can't eat regular ice cream and also gelato and sorbet count

[clockwayswrites]

Danny in Metropolis part 4

oh look, gave in, masterpost

by HH discord vote, wrote on this while waiting for my nerve test today (good news, nerves good. bad news, hands bad because ?????. other news, OW) which was nice because this is very soft and I was very nervous about it all. Apparently I had another chunk not posted here too so have a decent bit!

-

“Yeah, well, you just met—saw? You just saw my parents. They’re just sort of like that. Everything always becomes dramatic,” Danny said, some of his humor fading as he talked about his family.

“I’ll remember not to come over for dinner,” Conner said with a purposefully light tone.

Danny snorted. “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t subject you to that horror. Easier to just eat out anyways.”

“And yet you don’t eat lunch,” Conner pointed out.

Danny ducked his head and rubbed at the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, school lunches aren’t exactly appetizing.”

“Yeah, that’s fair,” Conner agreed after a beat. Him and Dad might still have some issues that they were working through, but Clark made sure that Conner always had a lunch to take to school, no matter how busy he was with a story. The only times there wasn’t a lunch is when Clark was off world for three or more days.

Conner wondered if Dad would mind making an extra one.

“Anything you hate?” Conner asked curiously.

Danny gave a little shrug. His fingers twisted restlessly against Conner’s. “That’s a complicated question.”

“I’m okay with complicated answers.”

“Turkey and chicken, but only if it’s the whole bird. Hot dogs. I guess all meat can be iffy a lot, depends on the day. Tofu. Um, plain broths and Jello at this point. Anything fake cherry favored. Lime Gatorade,” Danny listed off in a rush.

Conner blinked. “Okay.” He’d do his best to remember that.

“Okay?”

“Yeah. Like, I think that’s actually not that hard to work around. And you can remind me if I forget anything, but, like, I’ll try not to,” Conner said. He gave Danny’s hand a reassuring little squeeze.

Danny stared down at their clasped hands like it was the most confusing thing.

Conner tried not to worry too much about it. Danny could be odd like that.

The shop was actually a pretty nice one. Maybe it was a little too hipster, but it was a coffee shop. The music could be worse and the spray painted art on the wall was actually pretty cool. There was no one waiting, so Conner pulled them up to the front where they could easily read the menu to make their choices.

He nudged Danny gently with his elbow. “They have some vegetarian stuff, if it’s one of those days.”

“The beetroot sandwich is damn good,” the heavily tattooed barista who was waiting on them said.

“Yeah?” Danny said, looking over that on the board. “I’ll do that, I guess, and a large iced coffee.”

“Whole milk, skim, or oat milk?”

“Oh, um, whole is fine,” Danny said.

“Same drink for me, but I’ll do the avocado BLT,” Conner decided. He went to pull out his phone to pay, but Danny beat him to it, holding out a credit card.

“My treat, since we couldn’t work at my place,” Danny said quickly.

Conner huffed. “Fine. But next study session is my treat then.”

“You two can go ahead and have a seat, I’ll bring your stuff over soon,” the barista said with a smile as they handed back Danny’s card.

Conner followed Danny’s lead over to a comfortable looking pair of armchairs around a low table. They were forced to finally let go of each other’s hands to sit, and Conner tried not to pout. Now that he knew Danny would let him, Conner figured he could find another excuse to hold Danny’s hand if he worked at it.

Danny pulled out his sleek, new laptop and set it open on the table. The assignment was already open on the screen, glaring in the large, red text that Mrs. Simmons liked to use for all of her assignment headers. It was especially bold on the black background of the dark mode that Danny seemed to keep everything in.

Under every poet’s name, Danny had typed a sentence or two about them. It was far from academic writing (some of it was actually hilariously blunt), but it actually had some really useful information.

“Damn, Danny, you call this only a little?” Conner asked as he scanned over the notes.

Danny fidgeted in his seat. “I mean. Just like I said, I'm not good at English work and I don't want to be why you get a bad grade.”

“Hey,” Conner leaned over and bumped their shoulders together, “it's just a grade.”

“Yeah, try saying that in my house with two doctorate already and a third on the way with my sister,” Danny muttered.

“Well, good thing we aren't in your house then,” Conner joked. When Danny rolled his eyes, Conner reached out and tapped Danny’s hand, getting the other to look at him. “It’s just a grade, Danny, but I'll do my best to make sure that it's a good one, okay?”

Danny’s smile was a little wobbly, but at least it was there. “Thanks.”

“Course. Tell me what you've done so far.”

His smile turned shier, but Danny started to explain that he’d wiki searched the poets and also scanned whatever there most famous poem was. He didn’t really know how to talk about the poems, but tried to write a word or two about them. As they went through the list, it was clear that Danny already had some he didn’t like, by the way his nose wrinkled as he talked about them, scrunching up his freckles. He also had some good points about some poets that they shouldn’t do as two white guys. Conner didn’t know if he actually really counted as a white guy, not with Clark, but he figured since socially Clark was seen and raise as one, it fit as much as anything.

(Not like Conner could talk about the whole half alien clone thing anyways.)