#soap flavours

[petermorwood]

Hi, Peter, I have a question that is only tangentially connected to writing. Is it permissible/advisable to wash the inside of one's teapot with soap? I trust you as the product of a tea-loving culture *g*

If it's a Chinese teapot, don't wash out the inside with anything! They're unglazed, porous, and meant to build up a natural internal layer of tea oils.

If it's a Western teapot, then - unless you're Commander Vimes and the internal build-up of crud is part of the drink's character (also IIRC in the US Navy, where it applies to personal coffee cups) - washing out the inside will do no harm.

Either they're glass (like our standard one) or glazed ceramic (like our Brown Betty) or steel (like our Bodum French Press jug); in all cases, using what I presume is regular dish-washing soap will do no harm.

Inadequate rinsing out of said soap is another matter altogether, and will do interesting things to the flavour of the next cuppa. :-P

To quote a movie @dduane and I will be watching next month:

"Over the years I got to be quite a connoisseur of soap. My personal preference was for Lux, but I found Palmolive had a nice, piquant after-dinner flavour - heady, but with just a touch of mellow smoothness. Lifebuoy, on the other hand…"

[mizushibart]

suits.

[stinglesswasp]

Homesick 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿 (pt. 1/2)

[tojisun]

CW: dubcon; omegaverse stuff so ruts/heats + power and hierarchical abo dynamics; shift in balance of power; claiming; gn!reader; rambly as hell bc im writing this while sleep deprived but! the worms. they are going through it!!!

alpha soap who, traditionally, goes for omegas but you—

oh, how he wants you.

it was a fortunate coincidence, one that has johnny turning to the lord if only to give his thanks because he knows that none of this would have been possible if he just happened to be even a minute late. ‘this’ being the shift in the wafting scents that filled up the little, and on the brink of bankruptcy, bookstore in the corner of the street.

it’s never packed in the weekdays so johnny often goes there to unwind when his senses are overstimulated, feeling his eyes straining in their sockets and his throat closing up almost like he’s having an allergic reaction—he’s had it checked before and leslie said he doesn’t have any allergies.

patches are advertised but no one in this town ever sees them as priority because of how archaic the town still remains, but also because almost everyone is bonded. don’t mind the fact that scent patches are not only for single folks but whatever.

point is that if johnny was tired, he would find reprieve in the bookstore long enough that he was able to gather his bearings and brave another trek around the city because a mission is still a mission, and overloaded senses just needed to be dealt with as quickly as possible.

today should not have been any different. today should have just been another quick break; another quiet lull as johnny forced the buzzing senses into silence enough that he could think again.

today should have just been another day.

but then johnny was opening the door to the bookstore at the same time that someone was walking out—knobby shoulders bump against his—and johnny’s emotions flare up, eating at the reason straining at his mind. something like a storm explodes in the corners of his head, and johnny really should have realized then what it was.

it was not just oversensitivity. it was not just another bout of overloaded senses. it was—

something warm churns from the base of his stomach, before winding down his body until it pools on the plane of his spine. it felt like molten glass or liquid mercury; dragging. marking.

sticky. liquorice.

johnny breathes in, the air passing through his mouth instead. then, something buttery—like wine aged within the barrel—erupts on his tongue. it tastes like honeyed new wood.

like an alpha in a rut.

he turns, suddenly hyperaware of everything, before lashing his hand out to reach for the stranger before they could leave. the touch not soothing, and it has the alpha growling at johnny. the sound rumbles from the base of your throat, like an alligator’s bellow, and yet it made johnny’s gums ache. they want his teeth to gnaw. to tear. to mark.

you growl again, this time in warning, and johnny has spent enough ruts to understand what you want. you want to leave. to hightail out of the shop and maybe even the city, before crawling into your bed—not a nest, johnny trills to himself, not with how clean your scent is because you’re unmated—to spend your rut alone.

lord, would you fuck your own fist? or fuck a toy for your knot? would you fuck your hole too? fill it up too, or could you only cum if you are the one doing the filling?

whatever it is, johnny promises to overwrite your lonely experience. he’s here now, after all, isn’t he? and don’t alphas need help?

so johnny still doesn’t let go, his strength exceptional especially against an alpha whose rut is beginning to swell. instead, he replies to your growls with a snarl, one that is ripped from the rumble of his chest, before showing off his jagged fangs.

it is an archaic way of challenging an alpha, and he knows that no one follows the tradition anymore, but habit is difficult to change and johnny finds himself posturing against you, a shocked alpha whose raging storm of lust flickered just enough to allow johnny to fully tug you out of the bookstore and into the little winding path away from the streets. you protest, trying to shake him off, but you are so, so weak and johnny is so, so powerful, and he needs to do something before he could even think about letting you go.

johnny’s seen it done a handful of times back at the base. it’s not something price usually dishes out, but it was something everyone knew he could do. and one that he could do well. johnny remembers seeing it for the first time and thinking that betrayal will never even cross his own mind because there is something far worse than having a target on one’s back and that was—

it was to—

force an alpha into submission.

johnny remembers kyle’s interest and ghost’s morbid curiosity. hell, he even remembers his own anticipation when their captain had dragged a traitor to the centre pit by the scruff, his pheromones overflowing and stifling like a heavy fog. johnny remembers how john had made it seem so easy; how he was able to coax a gentler scent out of connors when price had cornered the alpha to the point that he bore their captain’s full weight. then, johnny remembers the marking.

the way their captain’s teeth dug into connors’ skin before tearing, and tearing, until the bite took. until the mangled mess left on connors’ olive skin would be a permanent fixture.

until connors’ alpha scent turned softer. prettier.

(price led connors to his room, and the two stayed there for days. no one questioned or teased because they all knew that bitching an alpha sometimes was better than breeding an omega.

and their captain had all the rights to call dibs on connors.)

johnny remembers all of this as he leads you away. his palms have turned clammy, gums aching once more with need. with ever-growing desire. he hears you hiss at him, snapping that he better let you go and that he fuck off before you do something he’d regret but johnny is deaf to all your threats because they’re empty.

lord, he knows you could even barely stand up straight right now—your knees knock against each other with every wobbly step. but he lets you talk; lets you use your words as shield because johnny keeps leading you away from view.

he sees a secured nook, one that was hidden away from prying eyes—you’re his, after all—and begins to settle.

to prepare for the feast now that the hunt’s over.

he pushes you forward, until all your front is pressed against the wall. your cheek is smooshed, tiny pebbles digging into your skin, and he knows that all of that would be unpleasant later when the adrenaline’s gone, but johnny can’t find it in himself to care. because he follows soon, folding himself over your back before burying his face on the crook of your neck.

you freeze. johnny takes that moment to take a deep drag of your smell.

your scent fills his senses once again, overtaking his coherence and bypassing his rationality to drown himself in the strong aroma wafting from you. it’s too good, too delicious, that it has johnny rumbling, pleased with himself for picking you up all for him because you will be, and are, his now.

the weight of his tongue and the throbbing of his gums echo his thoughts.

his. hishishis—

“god,” johnny croaks out, the first he’s said since this ordeal. “you smell absolutely divine.”

“sir. sir, please—”

“shh,” he says, pulling the collar of your shirt back. “it’d be over soon.”

“no— sir! i don’t— please—”

blood bursts in johnny’s mouth and his alpha sings in pleasure.

mine. mineminemine.

[rottingflowrs]

The cod fandom is so fucking white what even .The Gaz erasure is so gross .a lot of you don’t even try to hide it .Don’t get me wrong you can write about whoever you want but to title it is as 141 X reader and then not include gaz is just disgusting .

[s0fter-sin]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Call of Duty (Video Games) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: John "Soap" MacTavish/Simon "Ghost" Riley Characters: Simon "Ghost" Riley, John "Soap" MacTavish Additional Tags: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sub Simon "Ghost" Riley, Dom John "Soap" MacTavish, Puppy Play, Service Top, Service Submission, Collars, Praise Kink, Degradation, Rough Sex, Biting, Orgasm Denial, Orgasm Control, Multiple Orgasms, Gentle Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Rimming, Subspace, Top Simon "Ghost" Riley, Service Top Simon "Ghost" Riley, Bottom John "Soap" MacTavish, Top John "Soap" MacTavish Series: Part 8 of Soft’s Twt Threads Summary:

It starts with the patch.

Bright yellow, thick black font in all capitals; obvious and deliberately hard to miss.

“CAUTION: WILL BITE”

[wetsocksinbed]

me when they announced MW3: (character) is probably going to die

me pre-ordering mw3: (character) is definitely going to die

me playing mw3: (character) is absolutely going to die

character: *dies*

me:

[wavetapper]

i had these little biodegradable packing peanuts from a gift once and when i was in uni every time i hit a word goal in my essay id go take a peanut and dissolve it under the tap in the sink

[gothcryptid-png]

im so fucking normal and definitely not thinking about how bad i wanna chew on this motherfuckers arms i want him to be a little piece of gum ik hes chewy as hell he like a gummy candy he my gummy bear fr

munch munch motherfucker

[du-hjarta-skulblaka]

Mm lovely how quickly feeling mildly frustrated and irritable escalates into full fledged meltdown anyway I GOTTA fins something to do other than stare at my phone today so. Bye

[qweryuqweruqywueu]

kind of sucks how soaps aren’t edible. they smell so good and i convince myself “Oh! it’ll be different this time!” whenever i take a bite and then it just tastes like The Slime and also poprocks i guess

[what-aboutno]

who made live plus (energy drink) i just wanna talk. why does it taste like dish soap?? 

[queer-crusader]

Meet my beautiful coffee and matcha/hot drinks corner and my beautiful new son, the milk frother.

I got into the (mostly coffee based) YT channel of Morgan Eckroth recently and while I don't drink coffee all that often (and NEVER drank matcha but enjoyed matcha sticks at cons at times), I felt an urge to whimsy up my life. Just add a tiny bit of luxury, especially on those days I work from home. So for Christmas I asked for matcha powder and a milk frother (lovingly dubbed by me and my sister as a milk brother after a wonderful autocorrect/typo, resulting in the frequent use of the phrase "brothering the milk"), and now I have a wee drinks station!

Yes, it takes a wee while to make something, especially if I add matcha (you get the added steps of soaking loose the matcha whisk and whisking up a little batch rather than dumping powder in a mug if u wanna do it "right"). I also heat up my milk, for which it takes a bit of trial and error to find the right length of time in the microwave. It also took a bit of trial and error to learn how to wield the milk brother to get a well-aerated milk with a good amount of froth. But after a few days of experimentation and play over the Christmas holidays, I now make my own cappuccinos, matcha lattes, dirty matcha lattes (coffee with matcha), or as I did just now, a dirty matcha latte with added cocoa powder (yes, that works! Matcha hot cocoa is also a wonderfully comforting drink if you don't mind the caffeine!). Behold!

(I usually use a smaller mug so I didn't use enough milk and base to fill her up but she tastes wonderful!)

I've also made my own flavour infused syrup for my coffees!! We had a horrible teabag lying around no-one will ever drink with hazelnut and cocoa flavour (she tastes super chemical), so I made a simple syrup and soaked the tea in the water for that syrup. I also added some cinnamon to it. She still tastes a little like fake chemical flavour, but also due to the high amount of slightly caramelised sugar and cinnamon, like stroopwafel syrup. So it's a wonderful coffee addition that's so simple to make! And I can and will make so many more in the future!! Cinnamon flavour!! Cardamom flavour!! Peanut flavour for my snickers hot cocoa urge!! The world is at my feet and NOTHING CAN STOP ME *MANIACAL LAUGHTER*

[advestager]

I feel like saying Josuke doesn't have any daddy issues whatsoever isn't entirely fair (I've seen some fic and comics go further into how he and his mom might have been treated due to the circumstances of his birth that were pretty compelling) but people who act like he grew up without any father figure are definitely off base imo. Every single adaptation and extra material have always had a focus on his close relationship with his grandpa for a reason!

see, that's precisely the thing. it is literally impossible to be a grown up human without having internalised some sort of illogical Feeling about oneself or the world – but fandom as a whole tends to just assign arbitrary ones to characters based on stereotypes rather than what they actually are like.

i do think josuke feels some sort of way about his lack of a father growing up, but that's as inevitable as joseph himself (or giorno, or jolyne, or even jonathan) having feelings about his own dad, and yet somehow jorge's absence does not get brought up despite joseph and josuke's fairly similar upbringings. the fact is that most of western fandom tends to view the JJBA characters through a (white, usa-centric) lens that simply does not lend itself to a fair or accurate reading when most of the cast is either POC or from an entirely different cultural background. that's why i'm so resistant to label josuke as having 'daddy issues'; the term means something entirely different to me than it seems to do to most of the fandom, based on all the fic, comics, and discussions i've seen (and had) about the topic. it's not exactly like the organised crime aspect of VA, but it fills me with a similar kind of frustration. i don't think one needs a degree in cultural studies or history or whatnot to enjoy a silly series about people punching each other with slutty soul-ghosts, but it's exhausting to see the same thoughtless, very specifically westernised takes being regurgitated over and over as Absolute Truth until the characters are so flanderised they seem nothing as much as a caricature of their original versions. i love transformative works as much as any other fan creator, but i also happen to like the source material. it is infinitely more interesting to me to think about what kind of relationship josuke might have to his heritage as a mixed-race person, or his identity as the son of a single mother or the obviously cherished and spoilt child of a family such as his own (especially in a place and period like canon's late-90s/early 00's japan), than to hear yet another iteration of 'haha, josuke has daddy issues' where the person saying it has no intention of analysing that premise beyond the puddle-depth obvious.

at barely sixteen years old, even as interested in high-end fashion (and as very much part of a working class family who could definitely use the nest egg) as he is, josuke's immediate reaction to being told his missing father is incredibly rich and wants to take care of him is to say that it's not necessary, and he's fine as he is. sixteen. i worked as a teacher with kids as young as a year old and people as old as mid-seventies; that kind of ease of mind is one-in-a-million and not something you'll find on someone who fits fandom's definition of 'daddy issues'. he's not angry at joseph, he's not grasping for money, he hardly even wants to find out more about the missing part of his origins. his only thought is to wish he wouldn't be the reason other people were hurt, and to protect his mother once there is a risk she might find out and be distressed about it. his entire morality system is (from what i remember of canon) mostly based around the question What Would Grandpa Do?, with some leeway allowed for the temper he clearly got from tomoko and for the fact that he is, again, a big and slightly spoilt sixteen year old.

so yeah. it might not sound fair to say he doesn't have daddy issues, but i don't think the terms fandom's operating under are fair to start with, so i'd rather recuse myself (and my interpretation of the character) from it all til we're playing the same game. the sandbox's wide and wild, and the block and mute buttons are there for a reason, so i'll just stay in my corner writing about higashikatas wielding their feelings like sledgehammers til my mum says it's time to go home.

[space-hair]

oh em geeeee i just realized i’m turning the same age as my birth date . I’m 26 on the 26th, pretty swag. i also just asked mommy how to do laundry for the 39253th time because my #1 fear is that stupid machine :D wahoooo

[galacticanibalism]

forget cilantro soap taste, why does watermelon flavouring taste like soap?