#gloria and food

[ailelie]

GLORIA:  Everyone. Everyone, can I have your attention? I know this is a strange day for you, I appreciate you showing up at all… So… On my home planet there’s this thing called Top Ramen. It’s dried noodles and a packet of flavoring. It’s not very good for you but it’s food. And you can get them for 50 cents each. That’s not a lot where I’m from. I never ate it all that much myself, but it was always nice knowing it was there. You knew you were never going to starve because of a cheap package of dried noodles always waiting for you at any store. It’s nice.

What a lot of people don’t know is that the reason  why there’s dirt cheap noodles at any store, is because one day, a long time ago, two nuclear bombs  were detonated on an island called Japan. Thousands of people died in an instant, and in the aftermath thousands more were going to die of sickness and starvation. But one man had an idea to send bricks of dried noodles with a packet of flavoring to anyone who was hungry. They knew they weren’t going to starve. On the island of Jamaica they cook chicken in a way that doesn’t make any smoke. They do that because a long time ago, they were slaves, and the smoke would’ve alerted slavers and they  would then be running for their lives. Zebulon, why do Jewish people eat unleavened bread?

ZEBULON: Because they too were slaves. When word came from Moses that it was time to flee captivity in the night, they had no time to wait for their bread to rise. So to this day, the flat bread is a reminder of that flight from their oppressor.

GLORIA: For me, when I cook with corn, beans, and squash, it’s called the tres hermanas. The same way my ancestors cooked thousands of years ago. My ancestors who were nearly wiped out by foreign invaders… Show me your plate, and I’ll tell you a sad, sad story. Your sad story begins today. The day you had to turn to the spirits of your ancestors to keep you alive while you were just trying to do the right thing, and leave a better life for your children. I can’t make you eat this food. It’s your story, not mine. So Zebulon’s going to say a prayer, and then you’re all going to make a choice. It’s up to you.

ZEBULON: Bless us, O Lord. Bless our food and our drink. Since you redeemed us so dearly and delivered us from evil, as you gave us a share in this food so  may you give us a share in eternal life.

[a-stone-slab]

Hey. Hey pokemon shippers. See this art?

Look closer.

These details don’t happen by accident.

Enjoy your semi-canon ship content, everyone :)

[dangermousie]

I am obsessing over a Sung Hoon as an angsty chaebol fixated on an adopted girl even more fucked up than he is drama like it’s 2011.

(At least he’s not selling himself into a brothel as her servant as she plies the gisaeng trade this time around.)

[bishonenspit]

Dorian Red Gloria aka Eroica - chapter cover art for Princess Gold (2011) - Yasuko Aoike 60th Anniversary Artbook: Contrail

[wildflowercryptid]

victor pottinger being the only relatively normal masc protagonist in all of poké-europe, dude just likes making curry and hanging out with his massive ass squirrel.

[rad-roche]

Dead Woman Walking, Chapter 11/15

(x)

[adelle-ein]

discord was joking about a bd2 equivalent of the sp drink promotional art, so i ended up drawing some booster bun bakers

[the-witchs-cafe]

Leon's results- ouch :( I don't think Hop's gonna like what happened....poor babies....

/lh

Jokes aside, indeed, I can't bear to see Hop's reaction to this ;-; Whether he had witched out before or after Leon did, I don't think he'd be pleased to even see what became of his big brother's tormented soul. Would Hop be forced to put Leon out of his torment? Or would Sayf break away from his despair, even if for a brief moment, to weep over what he had just lost?

[metalfeather]

🌶️ oh ya know, something to do with PIES

𝓚𝓲𝓷𝓴𝓼 — send 🌶️ and guess my muse's kinks

" Is it really a guess if I'm vocal about my appreciation of-- home made pies?"

" Support your local bakery."

[vonkarma2]

1 for gloria and 2 for rocio?

What’s the lie your character tells most often? 

I think a lot of Gloria’s lies in her day to day life are around the lines of “I’ll pay you back” or something like that LOL, she’s very irresponsible with money and not above straight up lying meaning her reputation is kinda terrible. She tends to ditch people and avoid responsibility in general. If you make plans with her there’s a solid 50% chance she just won’t show up and you’ll never hear from her again. The other 50% is she shows up and you still never hear from her again

2. How loosely or strictly do they use the word “friend”? 

The people in Rocio’s life are usually only interested in them professionally/politically, and the few that actually view her as a person (prior to the story theres like quite literally 2 of them) tend to be very close, so there’s not a lot of conflict over whether they’re close enough to be called their friend yk. She definitely considers them as such— even though it makes her uncomfortable to be close to people she does appreciate everything they’ve done for her. Like, they would have straight up died if not for Yiming. They put a lot of faith in the people they’re close to, maybe even too much, + though being dependent on others frustrates them they don’t tend to resent people because of that. In terms of actually using the word though. I think she’d hate implying things about her relationship with others because she doesn’t think it’s anyone’s business at all. So she’s more likely to avoid it and talk about them however is directly relevant to the situation. Like instead of “you can trust him, he’s a friend” it would be “you can trust him, he’s harmless” or whatever. Sometimes coming across as insulting because of that lol 

[ailelie]

STEVE: On my planet, those that feed others are considered of high regard and performing a sacred duty.

GLORIA: As someone who spent her whole life feeding others, I find that hard to believe.

STEVE: It is true. I will show you. The Taco, if it is a  matter of debate, what is it to you?

GLORIA: To me? Well... I think of it like this: You take something simple, a tortilla. And you fill it with a lot of history. You fill it with where you’re from, where your parents are from, you fill it with  where you are at that moment, and you fill it with a lot of hard work. And then you give it to someone you care about.

STEVE: It is a food and a historical document?

GLORIA: Yes, yes it really is.

STEVE: It sounds to me like it is a sacred duty.

[noamuth]

Magic Anon: Dal's socks (or sock equivalent)... ARE MISSING. For five minutes. Then they reappear somewhere harmless but confusing.

Dalamus scours every corner of his tent, but his socks are nowhere to be found. Not under his bedroll, nor under his pillow, or his blanket. Not behind the various books he has acquired, not next to his jar of stones. He crosses his arms and glances at the spiny-legged brown spider in its glass jar as it rests on its twig, oblivious to his plight.

He pulls on his boots and dons his piwafwi, then peeks from his tent, squinting his eyes against the bright light of day. He does not see his socks anywhere along the perimeter of his tent, nor at his workstation.

What he does see, is several of the camp members sitting around the fire as someone cooks, stirring something in a large pot. His stomach growls in response to the smell wafting through the air. Attempts to keep them at arm's length is costing him the occasional meal, although sometimes they forget to douse the flame at night and he is able to grab some soup or stew while most of them are sleeping.

He sees them. His socks. They are on the log right next to where Gale sits. How did they get over there? He never takes them off outside of his tent. Why would anyone take his socks? No matter which way he spins it, it makes no sense.

With a sigh of resignation, Dalamus pulls his piwafwi closer around himself and exits the tent. He will just have to confront Gale to get the truth. Surely the wizard would not try anything in front of the others? Unless they are all in alignment against him. But such deceit has not yet been obvious.

Gale sits facing away from him, allowing Dalamus to approach unnoticed by the wizard. His voice drifts into clarity as Dalamus gets closer.

"...sure he's not a vampire? The way he stays out of the sun, and those haunting red eyes?" The rest of the group goes silent, and stares over Gale's shoulder.

Gale seems to realize something, and a hint of amusement tugs at a corner of Dalamus' mouth. "...He's right behind me isn't he? Hello, Dalamus," the wizard greets with exaggerated enthusiasm, turning to glance at him. "We were just--"

"Why do you have my socks?"

Gale blinks several times. "..Beg pardon?"

"My socks. Next to you. Why did you take them?"

Gale glances down at the space beside him and, sure enough, there were socks. "Truth be told, I'm not sure where they came from. I'm almost certain they weren't there when I sat down. By all means, take them. While you're here, why not have something to eat?"

Before Dalamus can refuse, several others chime in to agree with Gale. One person expresses needless concern that he has skipped a meal. Another expresses how good the food is. Lae'zel says he is no use to them withered from starvation.

While he has his reservations on whether the food is as delicious as the others claim, he cannot deny his hunger, nor that skipping meals helps no one. Everyone is eating from the pot, so presumably it is not tainted. One person even goes back for seconds as he considers it.

His stomach wins out. After putting his socks on his feet and putting his feet back into his boots, Dalamus grabs a bowl and gets some broth from the pot. He sits on a log by himself, where he can keep everyone within his sight. No one seems to mind.

The broth is.. not bad.

[murcielagatito]

shes just like me fr

[maudeboggins]

sandwiches of the stars, 1929

the clara bow sandwich: jumbo sardines with vinegar mixed with chopped hardboiled eggs on rye, with a pickle ($0.50);

the charlie chaplin sandwich: camembert, roquefort, and sierra cheese on buttered rye ($0.60);

the pola negri sandwich: creamed chicken on toast with parmesan cheese and paprika ($0.75);

the gloria swanson sandwich: egg and sweet corn omelette between buttered toast ($0.40);

the virginia lee sandwich: chicken and tomato on toast with mayonnaise and french dressing ($0.65)

[cantuscorvi]

“Dammit… Who told you to hold it like that?” 

Gabriele was standing in front of his bedroom door, coming back from a quick shower after he had been out for the entire afternoon with Raum. The weather was pleasant but quite hot for a man in a suit, and he had needed to refresh himself before handling whatever Raum would want to do for the rest of the evening. Of course, curious like a cat, disobedient like an untrained dog, the blond couldn’t miss the occasion to snoop inside Gabriele’s belongings. When the bodyguard was back, he witnessed with concern the way Raum was playing with one of his butterfly knives. 

“You’re going to cut your pretty face if you keep swinging it that way.” He voiced again, as he knew that Raum should be pretty much aware of his presence by now, but still, he was still behaving like a spoiled kid who could do anything he wanted. Gabriele stepped forward, his gray robe rolled around his waist, a bit of his chest hair exposed, the rest of his body still pretty wet. Yet, it wouldn’t stop him from towering Raum from behind, as he placed his hand right onto his wrist to lower it. 

“Not like that.” Gabriele huffed, before his fingers eventually moved, but only to cup Raum’s arm and guided it differently. “You leave too much space between your chest and their hand, they can easily twist your wrist like that.” He illustrated his words by wrapping his hand strongly around his wrist, forcing Raum into a rather unpleasant position for a few seconds. “A butterfly knife is different from a dagger. It’s light, so you have to see it as the continuity of your finger.” He slid them to place the item correctly into his palm. For a moment, he only mimicked the motion, as he felt himself dangerously pressed against Raum’s back. He was still smelling like the sun of this warm afternoon… 

“It’s not made to stab. It’s made to cut and slice.” He whispered, his brown eyes falling on Raum’s pale features. He offered a carnal smile, the intensity of his irises focused on Raum’s reaction. “You only want to hurt and mutilate. You use it to pour blood and damage the skin. It’s a knife for revenge or petty intentions.” 

@distopea

Whenever he set foot in this room claimed by Gabriele, a strange kind of curiosity gave Raum the urge to poke into his belongings. Sometimes he wondered, what did Gabriele’s life look like before he belonged to the Weiss family? Was there ever something he wished to accomplish — some lifestyle he wanted to lead, an objective that he no longer hoped to complete? Of course, it wasn’t something he would find the answer to stashed in his bodyguard’s accoutrements. However… there was usually something here to capture his imagination regardless.

Although folded and discreet, the sleek black handle of the butterfly knife stood out to Raum like a jewel to a magpie. Blue eyes lit upon the shape of the weapon immediately, and he picked it up without a second thought if the owner would care. Carefully, he flipped it open to expose the silver blade. He knew that if it belonged to Gabriele it wasn’t for show — it would be sharp.

He heard the bodyguard’s voice just as he was giving the knife a few experimental flicks with his wrist. He paused for a moment, glancing into the doorway. His eyes lingered on Gabriele’s face, gradually watching a drop of water sneak it’s way down from his hair to his neck, and— shit, the little exposed section of his chest like that was criminal.

Quickly looking back at the blade in his hand, Raum scoffed.

“Nobody taught me,” he said, twirling the knife a little in his hand, a distraction. Nothing too dangerous — he’d toyed with one of these before, but it wasn’t something he was practiced at either. “In my teens, I spent a lot of time with го́пники. Delinquents. It’s how they would hold it, I suppose.”

You’re going to cut your pretty face if you keep swinging it that way.

Raum merely hummed in response, a smirk curling the corner of his lips as he turned the dual handles of the knife into his palm, holding it steady. While it seemed like he simply brushed off Gabriele’s concerns, rather, he was trying to ignore something else entirely. The way he had felt an odd change in the atmosphere when the other man came into the room; the way that Gabriele so casually calling him pretty made something horribly pleasant curl in his gut. The way that made him want to turn and lodge the blade in the older man’s throat for daring to cause it.

“Then, how would you hold it?” Raum asked, conspicuously neutral, inhaling slowly and concentrating when Gabriele took hold of his wrist. It wasn’t like he hadn’t heard it before. Whether to mock him, to insult or to charm — these kind of words were meaningless. Forget it.

He certainly did when Gabriele twisted his wrist. Raum flinched with a subdued grunt of discomfort, almost dropping the knife. The hold was only for a few seconds but he could certainly see how it was effective; Raum wasn’t weak by any means, yet disgruntled at how easily a bit of training could change the whole game.

“Tsk. Warn me before you break my damn wrist.” He muttered testily, still strangely hooked at how Gabriele’s hand covered his around the handle. He could perceive that the other man had stepped closer to guide him with it, warmth seeping in where his chest brushed Raum’s back, voice close to his ear. He felt caged in that position, caught between Gabriele and the cabinet where he found the knife, hyper-aware of everywhere he was being touched, how he was spoken to, how he was being looked at.

Gabriele’s attention was suffocating; making the gears turn in Raum’s mind in that forbidden, perfect way. He controlled the situation with that patrimonial tone in his voice, and Raum both loathed and indulged in how it affected him. He wanted to escape that control — no, more than that, he wanted to show off — to flaunt in the face of it.

“Ah, now I understand.” He matched Gabriele’s tone, subtly leaning backwards against his chest. Heat suffused his body, and he could feel the other man’s heart beating, slow and steady. So sure of himself.

“Blood and petty intentions…” He echoed, relaxed in Gabriele’s shadow. “Sounds perfect.” With a little huffed laugh, Raum twisted Gabriele’s wrist with exactly the same move he’d just been shown, wrenching the knife from his grasp. He flicked it open, quickly turning around and pressing the edge of the blade delicately under Gabriele’s jaw.

He tilted his head, daring to catch those dark brown eyes with his own, toying with his earlier thoughts of causing harm for a moment. “Suits me, don’t you think?” Aware he could only keep the bodyguard on the hook for so long, the fingertips of Raum’s free hand lingered on the little exposed area of skin above the edge Gabriele’s robe, the touch openly provocative. He grinned.

“Mm… Then I’ll keep it.” A shove against Gabriele’s chest with his palm, and Raum folded the knife closed. Even just the little space he had created between them already made it feel like he could breathe and think more clearly. He slipped the weapon into his pocket, giving a last glance at the other man before he turned towards the doorway.

“The dinner is in an hour. I came to tell you to hurry up. Not for a lesson.”

[rad-roche]

doing some work for chapter 11 before I go fully AWOL for the next few days, spicy excerpt for those who don't mind a light spoiling. spicy as in food-based, not sexy. you'll have to wait for those ones