#would share food

[swan2swan]

Whoever conceived and animated this moment, I hope they're doing well and thriving. This is S-rank romance stuff here.

[tazmiilly]

warm noodle

[adooble]

spice tolerance

[phoenixyfriend]

Political ads: My opponent has jacked up taxes every year since he was elected!

Me: Which taxes? Income? Sales? Property? Business?

Political ads: I promise to hold the line on taxes!

Me: Which taxes? What government programs do those taxes contribute to? What gets cut if the lack of taxation causes a deficit?

Political ads: Think about the taxes!

Me: WHICH TAXES. WHICH TAXES ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT. TELL ME WHO'S ACTUALLY GETTING AFFECTED BY THESE TAXES YOU'RE SO CONCERNED WITH.

Reminder to always ask what it is that people aren't saying in these ads.

A lot of them want you to think that it is your personal taxes as a working-class person that they're talking about. But if it's taxes on the rich that they're "holding the line on," then they're using your desire to survive with a greater portion of your own income as fuel to keep the upper classes from paying their fair share.

I keep getting the same three or four political ads (half aren't even for the district I live in) and I'm frustrated that they use these transparent tactics and that there are probably people that don't have the time or background to take that moment to go 'what are they hoping I hear in this? What are they actually going to do?'

[t00thpasteface]

i got moves!

[fayewoodss]

silly art prompt for you (if you want it):

how do the dream team handle it when there's only one piece left of a food they all love. is it war? is it peace? what sort of business negotiations occur?

Dream is always quick to offer up the last of anything leftover. George, however...

[yashley]

I feel like if she's telling me so strongly to stay away from it, I don't trust her anymore.

[transingthoseformers]

Do you think some cybertronians have that same "omp human fuels look so good, it's such a shame we can't eat it, forbidden snack😔" feeling that we get?

[secriden]

IS THAT A FUCKING PANDAN KAYA BUN GOD DAMMMIT FADEL YOU COMPLETE SOFTIE I"M-- *scREAMS*

For context, if I'm right, this is one of my favourite indulgences, because kaya is a really rich and caramel-like spread that has hints of coconut and usually if it's green then it also has pandan essence added, which is like the BEST combination and fucking FADEL TOOK LIKE 2 BITES AND THEN GIVE THE REST TO STYLE!!?

Image taken from here.

;A; IT REALLY IS TRUE LOVE!

[certaindreamwitchreader]

Headcannon Spices & Cooking & Alcohol Alastor

While Alastor is a cannibal and likes to eat raw venison on occasion, among the Hazbin, he is one of the best (if not the best) at cooking.

Alastor, when he was human, was an incredible cook (he learned from his mother) and in hell, he continued cooking.And one of the things he came to appreciate about his new deer features was his improved sense of smell.

Louisiana Creole cuisine is characterized by its spices and the mix of French, Spanish, Caribbean, African and American influences. It also includes distinctive features of Italian cuisine.

Here you experiment and play with species, There are sweet-salty mixes and , the same dish can vary greatly depending on the mix of species.

Finding substitutes for certain recipes when you can't get illegal imports from Earth (advantage of being an Overlord,), is a little easier with his fine sense of taste and enhanced sense of smell. ( Bell pepper and cayenne pepper could find substitutes but whenever it can it stores its loot of species from Earth)

Here's the thing, being part deer, he came to find that he was now partial to other flavors. Oh, they're not his favorites, but he does indulge in them from time to time. ( Sweet corn, apple and molasses)

Among the first decades in hell, Alastor struggled with this change in his palate but later adapted and sought to incorporate it in his own way. In life, he was part-time moonshiner, Now in hell he also make dark beer and rum, thanks to his newfound appreciation for molasses... ( And a very good one at that! One that Husk gladly drinks every chance he gets and wants to know where the hell Al gets it from.

[zoeylastrapes]

Vi and Cait should've moved to a house on the outskirts of Piltover. It'd be bigger than what Vi grew up with, but smaller than what Caitlyn had. They'd go down to the fissures and go on little dates at whatever small restaurants they have down there, and Cait would've made dinner for Vi using ingredients from Piltover. Vi would get better acquainted with Caits dad, and his disdain for her would go away, and Cait would make Zaunite friends. Maybe she'd even start a charity for Zaunite kids less fortunate than her or help out the firelights somehow. Or maybe she'd try to fix the damage she caused for Zaun. Vi would get a good paying job that she actually likes working. They'd have a mutual exchange of culture. They SHOULD'VE had a mutual exchange of culture. THAT'S the ending they deserved.

[god-i-hope-so]

Everyone at Harbor knows that the few times Tommy brings his own lunch/dinner and that it smells extra good, it means he spent the night at Evan's. And they all try to get him to bring extra portions so they can have their share.

Everyone asking him if he goes to see Evan at the end of his shift so they know if they have to put some pressure on Tommy so he brings something on his next shift.

Maybe we need an episode with a Station Chef contest or whatever.

[plant-ago]

An Open Letter to Dan and Phil

Dear beloved nerds,

This was originally going to be an (even longer) actual letter that I was going to give to you at the tour, but my nonprofit-employed ass can’t afford a meet and greet, so we’re doing this instead. I promise it’s not just trauma dumping— mostly, it’s about saying thank you and trying to cultivate some hope for all of us.

I’ve been a big fan since around 2014, when I was a mentally ill neurotic deeply repressed loner egg (average phannie, let's be honest). Now I’m a whole adult who got therapy and HRT and has joined the legions of transmascs with the Dan Howell haircut! What a legacy.

I’m making jokes because the thing I actually want to talk about, and the reason I decided to make this an open letter, is kind of serious. But in light of the election, I feel like I need to share this, both with you and with all the other queers in this little corner of the internet.

Here’s the gist: I’m a paralegal at a non-profit organization that works to help queer migrants get asylum. Mostly what I do is sit them down in our nasty sterile office and try to be kind, and help them get through telling me all the most terrible things that have happened to them, and then turn around and pare it all down into legalese that is digestible to the government to make the case they should get asylum.

It’s a horrible job, really, and one that shouldn’t have to exist. Some parts are plainly wonderful, like meeting so many queer people from all walks of life. But it’s also heartrending and difficult, and burnout is always looming. My horrible banal work is often literally a matter of life and death for the client, and I’m fighting a broken system for a chance at giving them the happiness and safety is owed to them by international law and, really, by any decent human standard, should never have been in question.

The thing is—and this is reason to hope—queer people really do exist everywhere, no matter how much repression and violence we face. In a tiny village in Colombia, there's a kid who’s all spit and vinegar, dresses like a boy and plays football and fights anyone who says that they can’t, who grows up wiry and gets black eyes because men still can’t handle getting their asses handed to them on the soccer field by a dyke. This client texts me at my work number sometimes to ask if I’ve eaten that day, because they wanted to check in on me. He asked me to call him by a boy’s name, recently. I don’t know that he’s told anyone else. I open every message I send him with "Hola, James."

Then there’s the sweet, babyfaced college freshman who got death threats when he was outed to his classmates back home, and whose parents kicked him out when he refused to marry a girl to protect the family's reputation, leaving him alone in a foreign country. He was couch surfing and just trying not to miss class so he could keep his student status and he was so conscientious I wanted to cry— he’s eighteen, guys. Eighteen. I’ll get him his papers or so help me fucking God I will kill for him. You know? You know. After that meeting I had to sit at my desk with my notebook and fill an entire blank page with the phrase “he’s just a kid,” over and over again, until I felt like I could breathe.

On a Friday morning recently I get up and open my laptop to interpret on a call with a soft-spoken older trans woman who's sat in the bleak phone room of the ICE detention facility because her immigration judge didn’t believe that she was really transgender. “An odor of mendacity pervades everything the respondent says,” the judge wrote in her ruling, where she determined the client wasn't "credible." To this day I’m still floored that she straight up ripped off Tennessee Williams—new frontiers in bigotry, truly. She didn’t even cite. In our meeting now, the client quietly tells us how hard it was when she came out but how happy she was the first time she wore makeup, and she'd rather stay in detention here for indeterminate years as proceedings spiral on than go back to Guatemala, where they'll kill her—boys, if I ever get within spitting distance of this fuckass judge, it is on SIGHT. Absolutely fucking ON SIGHT. For legal purposes, that was a JOKE.

So I finish the call and get up to get a snack. It’s only ten am but feel tired already because I’m angry, which is not unusual but also not something I want to hold onto, because it doesn't help anything. So I make some toast and look at my phone— two texts, which I ignore, a spam email, and, wouldn't you know it, a YouTube notification from Dan and Phil games! Jarring! That’s just sort of how life is though, isn’t it? Deathly serious and lighthearted in the same breath.

But regardless, seeing the notification makes me feel warm, so I have my toast and watch a little video of you two playing Roblox or dress up or whatever it is you do on that channel these days. I have a good giggle and I finish my toast and go back to my desk. It’s a crucial part of my diet really— the giggles, not the toast. I’m not angry anymore. I’ll be angry again, but for now my cortisol levels are manageable and I can put my head back into emails or whatever the fuck. Do you ever think about how plants make food for free out of sunlight but we sit around writing emails all day? And that’s if we’re lucky. Capitalism is hell.

Anyway, there is a point I am trying to make, and it’s not really about the banal horrors of neoliberal nation-state or capitalism or even homophobia. It’s to say thank you for coming back to make silly videos together, because I love them, and you never fail to make me happy. And yeah, maybe something about the story of that scared eighteen-year-old kid at the front of my mind makes it particularly sweet to watch you two goofing off and being openly queer. It reminds me why I’m doing what I’m doing, and it gives me the strength to send another fucking email because sometimes doing “important work that I value and believe in deeply” means having to send another fucking email. And sometimes I’ll rewatch your older videos, and then come back to the more recent ones, and my heart bruises, because you remind me what I’m fighting for and why. It’s nothing grandiose, it’s just— for queer people to get to have the ability to grow into themselves and be outrageous and silly and make mistakes and to love and be loved for who they are. To have the safety and support and security that no one should ever go without. That’s all.

So I am being dead serious when I say thank you for making top-tier light entertainment, and for coming back to a job that wasn’t always kind to you, and that it does actually matter. All this talk about terrible influences and legacies has made me think that sometimes you doubt whether you do good in the world, so let me be clear: you really, really do. I kind of get the sense that in order to accept sincerity Dan needs to be beat over the head with it, so if that’s the case, consider yourself coerced, you dickhead. You matter to me, and especially in times like these, I think I speak for all of us when I say that the joy you share is a precious and treasured gift. So please accept my gratitude in return.

All my love,

Jules

(I removed or changed all identifying information in this letter to protect privacy, but the stories are real).

[casualshrimp-but-undertale]

… did someone say colour palette challenge? •v•

decided to join the art event of @yourloveaton !!

anyways here’s magical sharing his chocolates with cupid haha (…everyone asks where Cupid is but never how Cupid is and if he too would like some chocolates)

((had to give myself a reason to draw trickster again even if it’s a doodle this design is just so cool))

[theidiotcritter]

uh oh! Double Trouble!!

[ritz-regrezzez]

☠ summer agere moodboard