#food is their love language

[bird-inacage]

LITA Special Episode | “Next time, tell me when you work hard so that I’ll come see you.”

When you turn up to your boyfriend’s office looking like a whole snack. Sky’s outfit here was FIRE, our boy looked so good. It’s so sweet that Sky drops by Prapai’s office to deliver him food now. Food was Prapai’s initial way into Sky’s heart, and now he’s returning the favour by making sure his man is fed.

[lanfan01]

Eat, drink,sleep and binge watch some of their favorite series...this is how they spend their days off

(red horse is an alcoholic drink)

This is how it was supposed to be ahaha

[seza-and-her-not-me-obsession]

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My mind went straight to VegasPete.

[nerdynuala]

Some cute doodles after the angst I've been spamming here

[metamorphesque]

musings on oranges

Alessia Di Cesare, Romero Barros, Wendy Cope, David Stevenson, Rebecca O’Connor, Andrea Kantrowitz, Nina LaCour, Augustin Rouart, Ocean Vuong, Chris Krupinski, Wendy Cope, Mickie Acierno, Jacques Prévert, Robert Spear Dunning, Wendy Cope

buy me a coffee

[mendellyill]

Gale's line when you first see the owl bear at camp is something like "the hand that feeds is the hand that's loved" and I think that little insight says a lot about his self appointed position as camp cook.

[momodita]

snapshots. [—chilchuck tims]

TAGS / WARNINGS: gender neutral reader, modern au,       minor pining, background marcille/falin WC: 1,000 NOTE: divorced father of 3 save me... save me       divorced father of 3...

✗ MINORS / AGELESS / BLANK BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED.

“Move over.”

Chilchuck’s voice startles you. The bowl in his hands is steaming: a hearty stew made with Falin and Marcille’s collective effort—(“Senshi’s tried and true recipe!”). A thick slice of bread perches on its rim. It smells just as heavenly as it did at dinner.

“Here?” you ask, stupefied. The armchair you’ve claimed is wide; there’s easily enough space to fit a Chilchuck-sized person, but your mind jumps—unbidden—to the reason he’d been late in the first place.

“Where else?” He nudges you with his knee. “As if I’m gonna sit near that love-fest over there.”

“You’re not welcome anyways,” Marcille tuts, midway through dipping the maraschino cherry from her sundae into Falin’s mouth.

“This is my apartment!”

You concede with a laugh: it’s just your bruised heart working overtime. The moment his body settles, shoulders touching, you stop being able to taste the ice cream Laios had scooped into your bowl. Existence narrowing to that point of contact with a familiar little rush.

It’s Laios’ turn to choose tonight’s movie, much to Marcille’s dismay—(“A documentary classifies! This is a really interesting one!”)—and he scrolls to find it as Chilchuck digs into his food.

Midway through, you engage him in a thrilling mock-battle of fencing spoons. Falin dozes, lulled from the careful stroke of Marcille’s fingers through her hair. By the time the credits roll, they’re folded onto each other, soft snores drowned out by music.

“They fell asleep again,” Chilchuck drawls, chin cushioned against his hand.

“Must be crashing after all that sugar,” Laios suggests, drapes a blanket over them.

“They were pretty high energy tonight. Eager to hear about how Chilchuck’s date went, I guess,” you tease, taking up the mantle with Marcille fast asleep. “You didn’t even tell us her name.” Keeping the tone casual despite the haunting little pit in your stomach.

(It’d been a shock to hear about it: for as long as you’ve known him, Chilchuck has been eager to keep his life private—even from long-time friends. And there’d been no signs of anyone—except you and your little group—coveting his time and attention; no extra, unexplained toothbrushes, no brands you don’t recognize in his pantry, no missed get-togethers.)

“Huh?” He gives you a look, confusion twisted in his features. The TV’s light illuminates a silver hair. “I wasn’t with any girl.”

Your brow furrows. “…His name? Their name?”

Chilchuck stares. This close—where the minuscule twitches in his expression are noticeable—it’s strangely evaluating.

“You know Marcille was joking when she said it was a date, right?” Heat sears along your cheekbones; embarrassment flushing hot under his gaze—the realization of your mistake.

“Of course I knew,” you say stupidly. Chilchuck’s eyebrow quirks. “Shut up. Don’t look at me like that.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Well, then if it wasn’t a date, who were you with?”

“Senshi,” he says. “He was—we, uh,” his eyes slide off to the side, “I asked him for a favor.”

“Oh?” you hum, relief and mirth creating a warm hum behind your ribs. “Looking to get a side hustle as a cook?”

“Not even close,” he grunts, looking away.

“Should we start calling you our little master chef?” You nudge him with a grin.

“Chilchuck is already quite good at cooking,” Laios pipes up without taking his eyes off the screen. “Maybe he’ll learn to make something else after mastering ramen.”

“Hey—”

“Ramen?” you ask, head tilting. “Like, the instant kind?”

Chilchuck splutters. “No!”

“From scratch!” Laios beams. “Senshi’s said he’s been making really good progress since his first day.”

“Oh?” you grin. “Our little master chef is gonna open a ramen shop?”

“Shut up. No way. Not ever,” Chilchuck grumbles, the high curve of his ear a soft pink.

“I hope you’ll make it for us one day—I love ramen,” you say. “Very tedious, though, so I’ve never done it myself.”

His face scrunches, mouth pursing together like he wants to speak, but doesn’t. His cheeks puff with air, releasing as a long, quiet sigh.

“Oh, hey, so after ramen”—you lean a hand on the chair’s opposite arm, boxing him in with a cheeky little smile—“you should look into French onion soup. It’s probably easier than ramen but caramelizing the onions takes so long—”

“You—!” he leans back, shoulders tense and eyes wide. “Don’t go making requests before I’ve even cooked anything decent.”

“Why not? I bet it’ll be great! You’re good with your hands, so soup is probably a piece of cake for you.” You watch—with no small amount of pleasure—as Chilchuck’s face flushes with vivid color.

“Get away from me,” he mumbles, but his tone is so insincere all you do is laugh. He knocks a loose fist against the inside of your elbow. A surprised noise jumps out; you retreat back against the chair, rubbing the spot.

“Mmh?” Marcille rouses with a sleepy hum. “What’re you requestin’?”

“Chilchuck is making us ramen,” you joke, relishing the way he knocks an admonishing leg against yours. “He’s our little master chef.”

“Oh, yeah. Did Laios end up spilling the beans?” Marcille yawns. Falin stirs, eyes fluttering. “Congratulations, you two.”

Chilchuck goes stiff beside you. “What do you mean?” you ask.

Marcille pauses, head tilting with a drowsy look of confusion. “Huh? Didn’t you ask why he’s learning to make it?” she asks. Falin tugs her sleeve.

You blink. “No. Should I have?” Marcille doesn’t respond right away, head bent to put an ear by Falin’s mouth, expression pinched as they whisper. Then, with a sigh, she reaches up to stretch.

“No. Never mind. Forget I said anything.” Laios is quick to grab her attention.

“Hey, so are you actually opening a ramen shop?” you whisper to Chilchuck.

“You’re such an airhead,” he grunts against his palm.

“I’m great,” you reply. His eyes meet yours, holding your gaze. When next he speaks, his voice is soft—acquiescing easily to your jest.

“Guess you are.”

[swamp-milkweed]

roque dalton, "como tú," tr. jack hirschman

[scealaiscoite]

“food as a love language” prompts ˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🍊 ꒱

-ˏˋ. dialogue ˊˎ-

⋆ “i know you said you weren’t hungry, but i made you something anyways.”

⋆ “you seemed a little off on the phone, so i wanted to make sure you had something nice to come home to.”

⋆ “i heard you reminiscing about it the other day, so i called your mom and got the recipe.”

⋆ “hey, hey- i know you always say you don’t have time to eat breakfast before you leave, so i got up early to make you something you could eat on the go.”

⋆ "you know i don't mind that you can't help me while i'm cooking. wanna help me plate it up now?"

⋆ “of course i remembered what you like, why do you think i always have it made fresh when you come over? i’m not actually a psychic.”

⋆ "well you said you were craving [insert food] and it's too late to run to the store to grab it so yeah, i made it for you."

⋆ “come on, i can see you’re starving. just let me make you something, you know i don’t mind.”

-ˏˋ. actions / scenarios ˊˎ-

⋆ practising cooking a dish from their friend/partner's childhood in secret before serving it to them for the first time

⋆ gently reminding them to eat

⋆ always having the ingredients for their comfort meal on hand in case they have a bad day

⋆ navigating around their sensory issues with food while cooking for them without being asked

⋆ dropping off food for them during a stressful day

⋆ being patient as they teach the other how to cook

⋆ learning how to prepare food from their home country for them

⋆ wordlessly setting a meal down in front of them after they come home at the end of a long day

[belatinysun]

i love love love how hinata's connection with food is showed throughout the brazil arc, how he is always making sure to have a proper meal, how he worries about pedro and wants him to eat well 🥹 it makes me imagine all the different recipes he learned in brazil, how much he studied to be able to prepare healthy meals by his own

he is truly the embodiment of food as a love language 🧡

[humming-fly]

Transcending platonic or romantic affection is the camaraderie of sneaking food during boring meetings or state dinners

[hardly-an-escape]

I love the headcanon that Tommy is Italian and makes pasta from scratch and his nonna’s spaghetti sauce recipe etc etc — but I would also like to offer up for consideration:

Tommy is not a home chef. like, at all. he cooks at home, but it’s the most boring weighed out meal planned gym bro type of diet imaginable. all he pays attention to is how many grams of protein he's consuming. it's just unseasoned eggs and brown rice and bland salmon, day after day.

Buck is appalled. babe, he says, you know you can hit your macros and still eat food that, like, tastes good? please tell me you know that.

and yeah, obviously, Tommy knows that. theoretically. it's just that his life has become a series of well-worn grooves. and food is fuel and spending time and energy on things like flavor profiles seems like misplaced energy. (flavor is for cheat days and housing two dozen hot wings and a side of mozzarella sticks.) so he trundles along in the groove of what's easy and predictable, eating his boring baked chicken, until Evan Buckley comes along and, well... spices everything up.

because look, here's the thing. much has been made of Tommy's skills and competency, and I love that for all of us and especially for Buck. but I also really want Buck to have something that he, individually, brings to the table (so to speak). something that he can teach Tommy, something that lets him show off his competency and skills. and Buck's developing relationship with food and cooking has been such a recurring theme, and it's so deeply linked to his most important relationships to people, I would really love for that to be the thing that he gets to be the expert in.

also, it clearly means a lot to Tommy to be someone who teaches, given how often he seems to offer to teach – I would love to see him be someone who learns, too. there's really only one way to get good at something, after all! and what a delicious bit of role reversal it would be to have Buck teach Tommy via the love language of food...

[armageddidnt]

Now we know EXACTLY what memory was running through their heads during that scene in season 1 👀

[rotblut]

ONE PIECE (2023)

[shoku-and-awe]

Saw this bunny rabbit handwarmer at the Peabody Essex Museum and I don't know whether to stage a heist or throw myself into the sun, it is so CUUUTE

Also, fun fact: this kind of brazier is called a hibachi 火鉢, literally fire + bowl. Coals go in and it keeps you warm.

The North American use of the term hibachi, like at Benihana, doesn't really exist in Japan (and neither does that style of cooking). That kind of inlaid table grill is called a teppan 鉄板, iron + plate.

The other North American use of the term, for a type of portable charcoal grill, also does not exist. That one's called a shichirin 七輪, seven + rings, and if that sounds familiar to you, this is probably why.

[metamorphesque]

Yet another sweet fact about the Armenian language: the word for "friend" is ընկեր "unker" (the stress is on the second syllable, and the first "u" is pronounced like the "a" in the word "arise"). In this word, the prefix "un" means "together," and "ker" means "eat." So, essentially, ընկեր "unker a friend" is someone you share your food with 🌻