#food purism

[ed-recovery-affirmations]

I've been talking a lot about chronic health conditions and how they affect peoples' experiences of food, and I think that there's an important discussion that needs to be had about how two things can be possible at once. Somebody's specific health needs re: food can cause them to have serious, unpleasant symptoms if they do not carefully monitor their diet. This sucks, it affects their lives significantly, and their experiences are very real. It also doesn't make that food universally evil. When these experiences make their way into mainstream conversations around the "right" way to eat, it comes to blow up into this major diet-culture house of mirrors where every food is potentially the next inflammatory carcinogen out to kill you. So here's the thing: multiple truths can exist at the same time.

Diabetics need to carefully monitor their sugar consumption and blood sugar levels AND that does not make sugars evil or bad.

Celiacs need to avoid even trace amounts of gluten touching their food or else they will experience dire, lasting health consequences AND the use of gluten as a buzzword has contributed to a great deal of disordered eating AND gluten is not an inherently evil component of food.

Lactose intolerant people may have some pretty unpleasant experiences with dairy AND dairy-containing products are a perfectly adequate way to get calories and nutrients into your body.

Some people experience allergic reactions to food dyes AND food dye is not inherently the root of all health disorders.

It's really important to practice eating intuitively with the foods that work for YOU - and, if need be, with the help of qualified medical professionals who are familiar with your health history and your needs.

[olderthannetfic]

The cultural purism in writing is always wild. Especially food stuffs. Some places are less global, but some people would drop dead if they ever found out how many places have gone hog wild with dishes that were brought to their countries during wars, colonial times, migrations, or were brought back to their countries, and other times people used their legs to move around.

Certain dishes only exist because they're a """"""bastardized"""""" version of some random dish from somewhere else. Which probably also was inspired by something, and then spread throughout it's place of origin.

Side note: "White people are the only ones allowed to make foods from different cultures." Only if you present them as being dumb and completely uneducated about #true authentic foods, and then pretend like it's a world ending event when Jenny from Connecticut adds some croutons to her eggdrop soup. Rather than it just being completely normal that you add what you want to your food, because that's what cooking is. I distinctly remember a time when people had massive tantrums on tumblr, twitter, and facebook about white people daring to eat "ethnic" foods. Must have been about *looks at calendar* yesterday.

Don't get me started on the cultural puritanism for people of certain ethnic backgrounds. It's as if knowing, eating and loving certain cultural foods is a requirement to be considered good enough for your own identity. Oh and don't forget the stupid comments if you don't pass the cultural food requirements. If you have preferences, or dare to cook to your own taste that isn't completely traditional, you're whitewashed because clearly no one ever changed this dish during those millennia, centuries, decades, years... three days it has existed. So put down that ingredient you like, you don't wanna be like Jenny from Connecticut who keeps destroying entire cultures by putting croutons on everything.

Don't forget to add some mockery of immigrant foods while we're at it, especially when you wanna mock white folks for not being able to deal with "true authentic food." Let's ignore why the foods immigrants made wouldn't have been the exact same as back in their homeland, and how this food is not worth less, just because they needed to find a ways to substitute ingredients and create new dishes. Listen, there's a difference between taco bell and random chain restaurants, and dishes made by immigrants adapting to their new situation of life, not everyone can keep live their culture the exact same way if they leave the home land, especially not as a minority.

--

[fivenightslaughter]

Wicked Serpentine (Part 8)

pairing: draco malfoy x femravenclaw!oc (some like george weasley x femravenclaw!oc too)

summary: slowburn enemies to lovers fic, a TON of parts. (continued after ... 3 years..) i'm back lol)

warnings: blood purism, bullying, swearing, descriptive physical danger, violence. Awful Draco

taglist: @gloryekaterina

taglist: let me know if you’re interested in being added!

Roughly a month had gone by, my last real interaction with Malfoy being my first school day in the Great Hall.

Snape had reassigned partners and tables after only the first day, likely due to Harry and Ron’s noise from the first class. I was paired with Hermione, thankfully. She was pleasantly quiet but helpful when she needed to be. My friendship with her had furthered quite a bit, but less so with the boys. I wasn’t actively attempting to befriend Harry after Snape’s hostility.

Flitwick and I hit it off and he quickly became my runner-up favorite teacher, just behind Snape. I frequently stayed behind in his classroom to discuss muggle music and the world as a whole. It was the only part of my day I could get truly lost in.

I’d eventually learned the schedules of Luna and Cho, sitting with them on days they’d be in the dining hall. Rarely was my attention drawn to the blond across the hall on the days he was there, either. He’d been looking rather sick, lately.

Not that I actively tried to look at him.

It just struck me whenever I’d happen to catch his silvery strands in my peripheral. His face looked sunken, his cheeks hollow. Instead of marble, he looked almost grey. It made my heart hurt a little. How could someone look so ghostly, as if he was always floating? It reminded me of a dried volcano, stiff and cold.

His head bobbed up, his eyes meeting mine for the first time since I’d walked off from him a month ago.

“Eris?” A voice snapped me back to the present. It was Hermione. She had said something that I didn’t catch at all.

I looked at her, my mouth slightly parted. Dumbly, I replied, “Huh?”

She gave me a small laugh and stabbed at her food, cocking her head to the side exasperatedly.

“I said, Snape is assigning new partners, something about people falling behind already. I’ll miss the quiet of sitting next to you. Seriously, I will.” She let her shoulders droop sadly, a glimmer of sadness in her eyes.

I heard her teeth slide on the fork as she ate, mildly sullen. I felt bad. I hadn’t even known we were switching partners, I must have been too caught up during potions to hear Snape mention the change.

“Hey, we’ll still eat together. Maybe I’ll kick Ron out of his seat every once in a while.” I joked. Her mood seemed to perk back up a bit at that, nodding.

“That’d be perfect, wouldn’t it, Ron?” She nudged him jokingly.

He whipped his neck to face her, food falling out of his mouth. He was too busy talking to Harry to notice our conversation, so he looked absolutely lost.

“Wha…?” Food tumbled from his mouth. I groaned and Hermione bit her lip in a laugh. The way she looked at him was cute, a twinkle in her eyes lighting as if everything he did was enchanting.

“Nothing, Ronald. Just… Chew your bloody food!” She choked out, noticing the knowing smile I was giving her halfway through her sentence.

He scrunched his nose up, confused and annoyed. He finished, crumbs still dusting his lips.

“Whatever, ‘Mione.” He dismissed, turning back to Harry. They were discussing something Quidditch related.

She exhaled through her nose, rolling her eyes. I watched as she packed her sprawled books and papers into her bag, deep in her thoughts.

Her eyes lit up for a moment and she immediately looked back at me.

“Oh! I almost forgot. We all have lessons but you’re free after this, right? Snape said he’d post a parchment outside his room with the partners. You should check it out.” She beamed.

I paused in thought for a second. Should I go check? I shrugged.

“Yeah, sure. I will.” I saw no harm in making my way to the classroom. I’d gotten a much better hang of the hallways to my classes and the library. The dungeons and the Room of Requirement remained untraveled for now, the map buried in the bottom of my bag. I’d taken it out to mark it up whenever I discovered a new direction or an alternate way to a class.

It was incredibly helpful and I was glad I befriended Hermione. Maybe I could go check out partners and find her later to let her know who she got. I’m sure she’d appreciate knowing beforehand what she was in for.

Satisfied, she dropped her last book in her bag and stood.

“Right, well I’ll see you!” She waved farewell, already taking off from the table. Ron and Harry were still engrossed in their conversation about Quidditch. I tuned in, a name immediately catching my ear.

“Of course we’ll win, Harry. Malfoy’s played like shit lately. Serves him right, bloody bastard.” Ron bragged. Harry nodded in response, noticing my sudden interest in the conversation.

“Eris, you haven’t been to a Quidditch game yet, have you?” He asked, already knowing the answer.

“Ah, no I haven’t.” I sheepishly rubbed the back of my neck. I didn’t have an intense interest in sports in the muggle world and wasn’t sure how much more exciting they could be in the wizarding world, so it hadn’t piqued my interest.

Harry’s head leaned against his hand and he seemed to nod slowly for a second before smacking his hands on the table.

“Come to the game today. I’ll ask Hermione to save you a seat.” He mused decidedly. Ron shrugged, agreeing.

“Okay, sure. I’ll come then.” I confirmed.

Glad at my response, he turned his attention back to Ron.

“Ready to go?” He asked him.

They got up and left for their next lesson, which I’m pretty sure was a history class I’d often heard them complain about. I still sat, popping a final piece of food into my mouth. I planned out my route in my head. First to Snape’s, then to the library to study intensively.

It felt like a solid enough plan.

I stood and left the hall, making sure I didn’t leave anything at the table. I made my way to Snape’s classroom. It was a different way than when I’d originally followed Malfoy and I was grateful I didn’t have to relive my cowardice every time I went to Potions in the mornings.

The clock tower chimed while I was walking and people pushed by me as I made my way down the hallways. Some people stood idly and hung out with one another, sitting in window sills or quickly scurrying somewhere.

I watched a class fill into Snape’s classroom and I walked up to the doorway. A small plaque with a scroll of parchment hung on the wall.

“FIRST PERIOD PARTNERS

HERMIONE GRANGER - NEVILLE LONGBOTTOM

HARRY POTTER - SEAMUS FINNIGAN

RONALD WEASLEY - PADMA PATIL

ERIS WOODWORK - DRACO MALFOY “

There was more, but my heart stuck in my throat. This couldn’t be real. I reread it several times, finally making my way to the bottom.

There was a tiny footnote stating partner changes were not permitted and must remain as written on the parchment. I felt myself shrink. Maybe Snape didn’t know how bad Malfoy would treat me?

I shook my head at the thought. It was quite obvious how poorly he treated everyone. Just because my interactions with him have been few and far between doesn’t mean he didn’t endlessly snip at other people.

In fact, the only times I ever heard his voice was when he was chastising Harry or Hermione, or making a comment about how Ron lives in squalor. It was unpleasant but at the very least I could be glad it wasn’t directed towards me.

I dreaded this partnership, but at least now I’d read the list like I said I would. Later, I’d be able to tell Hermione and the boys who they’d been partnered with.

I took off to the library, my mind spinning. I accidentally bumped into someone in the hallway and his hands shot out to steady my shoulders before I could fall to the ground. I recognized him as Malfoy’s original partner in Potions.

He eyed me up and down, removing his hands once I was steady. I vaguely recalled Ron calling him Zabini.

“Be careful. Never know who you’ll run into in these halls. You’re lucky it was me.” He spoke smugly, clearly a bit vain.

I raised an eyebrow at him, nodding.

“Yeah, I’ll be more careful.” I replied. I started to walk off when he spoke, tucking his hands in his pockets.

“Fuckin’ better be.” Was all he said as he continued to walk as well.

It unsettled me in the weird way that Slytherins were good at. A switch seemed glued to their emotions, fully able to flip at any time. It was startling. A chill eased down my spine and I hurried toward the library, no longer taking my time as I had before.

Finally arriving a bit breathless, I entered the space that had become most familiar to me over the last month. Giving a nod in Madam Pince’s direction, she gave me a puckered and stiff smile.

She was an intolerable vulture that only cared for her books, but I’d come to be in her relatively good graces. With my quiet presence and care for the texts, I was often the only one in the library with her. In her own way, I think she kind of liked me there.

Tucking into my usual space behind a few large bookshelves, I pulled a lesson book out of my school bag, along with a parchment and quill. We had just gone over a new spell in Flitwick’s class and I was determined to study it down to every flick of the wand.

A seat pulled out beside me and a book dropped down onto the table just loud enough for me to wince. I glanced over. It was “Libatius Borage’s ADVANCED POTION MAKING” book. I recognized it from my class with Snape.

I watched black robes swish down into the seat beside me, defeated looking. My surprise was immeasurable when I met empty, silvery eyes and messy moonbeam-colored hair. I couldn’t stifle a tiny gasp that slipped from my lips.

“Malfoy…?”

He leaned his head back against the top of the chair, remaining in quiet for what felt like a couple minutes as I dumbfoundedly stared at him. Seeming to find his resolve, he sat up. He leaned forward towards the table and didn’t meet my eyes again.

“Snape reassigned everyone because of me.” He stated. He was looking straight ahead, his eyes travelling up the spines of books in front of the table we were at. It felt wrong hearing a real sentence from him, especially one that wasn’t littered with insults.

“He thinks I’m fucking falling behind.” He was the second Slytherin I’d heard swear today, but his anger didn't quite reach his eyes. I watched a stray strand of hair fall from his slicked back ones, lightly resting on his forehead. He looked hopelessly disheveled the longer I looked at him.

My eyebrows knit together with concern.

“Are you okay, Draco?” I tried to be genuine, my voice soft and low. I barely breathed it and regretted it the second I said it as he flipped to face me. His lips were pressed in a tight line, chapped and pale.

“Don’t you dare call me by my first name, mudblood.” He snapped.

I felt my body tense up and my blood run cold at the tone he used. I desperately fought the water that immediately welled up in my eyes, coaching myself to just breathe carefully. I hoped he couldn’t tell how pathetic he made me feel. I just wanted to move on, now.

I decided that if he didn’t want my help, that he didn’t need it. There was nothing I could do to help him, and talking clearly wouldn’t solve anything. I wasn’t going to give him power over me, so I did the only thing I could think of.

I went on as normal. I focused back on the book for Flitwick’s, pulling my wand from my bag and placing it on the desk. Flitwick had even written a couple notes for me himself, explaining things in a better way the book could.

I had spoken to him about Scourgify, mentioning how Cho had done it and it was something I wanted to learn. He included notes about how to perform it, but I kept failing without a physical example of how to cast it.

All I had in my head was the memory of Cho, which I’d been too in shock from Malfoy’s prank to fully grasp the technique of. I had been trying to practice on dirty spoons I’d snagged from the Great Hall. I kept one wrapped in a fabric napkin and tucked into my bag, switching the spoon out for a different one each time I went to eat.

Ignoring the blond sitting next to me, I pulled the spoon out and placed it on the table in front of me. I unraveled it and there it was, just a gross spoon.

Taking a deep breath, I picked up my wand and reread Flitwick’s notes, as well as the pages in the textbook. Holding a book in one hand and my wand in the other steadily, I focused on the spoon.

“Scourgify.” I half whispered, trying to work with the tiny bit of light that sparked on my wand. I could never get farther than just a tiny emittance from my wand. It had been weeks and I still struggled to get it. It was clear from my frustration that this wasn’t the first time.

I heard a scoff from my side. I realized a set of steely eyes had focused on what I was doing as if I were some kind of entertainment. I ignored him, trying it again. And again.

I had attempted Scourgify on the spoon a good four times before he shot up out of his chair, blatantly annoyed.

“You’re literally doing everything wrong.” He muttered crossly.

I heaved a sigh, dropping my book to the table. I turned to put my wand away in my bag but he stopped me. He stood behind my chair, leaning over my shoulder. Mint and cologne overpowered my senses as he corrected me sourly.

“No, just… Merlin, you have to-” he grabbed my wrist and pointed towards the spoon, swishing my hand in a sort of ‘S’ shape. “Swish it, like this. Say it. Now.” He instructed rudely, guiding my hand to motion correctly. His cold, silver ring made me clench my wand as tightly as the night I’d got it.

“Scourgify.” I spoke boldly, jumping a slight bit as the grime left the spoon in an immediate little spark. I swallowed loudly, a disbelieving laugh bubbling softly through my lips. I turned my face to thank him before my mind could reject the idea.

However, when I turned, he had simply gone. I guess I was a bit glad he had disappeared, otherwise I would have proved his point by thanking him. Stroked his ego, probably.

I turned back to my book, writing down what I had just learned. I felt so excited and accomplished that I’d pushed away how weird that situation really was.

Did he really just grab my wrist like that? Why did he never seem to have a grasp on personal space? I tried to move on, finding the dustiest book I could find to try the spell again.

Much to my disappointment when, just as before, trying the spell only made my wand fizzle slightly.

Disappointed, I slumped down into my seat. I spent the next half hour trying to focus on Potions instead, opting to note things I noticed during class. Such as the physical traits of ingredients I was confused by.

Out of my peripheral, I noticed a light-blond head duck quietly from between some shelves, past me, and out of the library doors.

There was a book on the opposite end of the table that wasn’t there before.

I stood and walked over, picking it up. I flicked through it and much to my surprise, it was a Charms book. It was filled with neatly scribbled notes in the margins, shapes and arrows showing how to cast some simple charms I knew would get covered this year.

Some of the ink was slightly smeared a tiny bit, clearly brand new. Whereas other notes in it were old and the ink slightly faded.

Flipping to the very back cover, I read

‘If lost, return to Draco L. Malfoy’

in the same handwriting as the notes throughout, slightly faded.

What the hell?

A piece of parchment slipped from between some of the pages into my lap.

“You’re dense. Read my notes and maybe you won’t look so ridiculous.” It read.

That made much more sense. I guess I'll just... Study this all, then.

[andromachos]

Protected designation of origin (PDO) is a rule that makes it so some specific products (ie. cheeses like cheddar and parmegiano reggiano, liquors such as scotch or bourbon, etc) can only be "truly" that product if produced in it's original area it originated from. the seal is used to assure it's inherent good quality, and any attempts of recreating outside of that region and selling it makes it "counterfeit" food, which can be met with legal action even!

while it's a question about food purism, this is not a question about tangible quality, like the classic "is industrial cheese real cheese?" or anything that is about "what if there were Chemicals in this?". this is, assuming a producer recreated the original settings, is it inherently less good than the legal region it originated from?

[throughline-rp]

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗Application˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

please read the rules and thread format guide before applying

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Name:

Pronouns:

How are you? :)

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Character Information: For canon characters + original characters

Name:

Gender + Pronouns:

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Face claim:

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Character Biography: Please detail your character's background, including blood status (if they are human, half human, wizard, squib, muggle, etc) where they are from (country, schools, past occupations), their strengths and weaknesses, and what, if any, leanings they have towards blood purism and Voldemort's agenda.

What arcs are you interested in exploring with your muse? What future plot points would you like to build towards? You are more than welcome to check out our events timeline as inspiration.

Please answer at least three of the following prompts: greatest fear -- deepest wish -- favorite object -- a lyric or quote that is emblematic of your character -- a comfort they often seek -- what they smell like -- a phrase they often say -- how they like to dress -- special interests and obsessions -- a fictional character or story they admire -- favorite food or drink -- the song they last danced to -- something they know about that they'd be embarrassed to reveal -- a dream they can't forget -- their worst date -- something the think is a chore -- their favorite season and weather -- something they look for in others -- a weakness they have

Writing Sample: Please write a sample of your character in 3rd person, this could even be a prompt you'd like to write out once accepted!

Use this space for any ephemera for your character, such as mood boards, playlists, describe or provide any details like your character's results of personality tests, etc. You're welcome to check out this list for fun resources!

Thank you for taking the time to fill out this application, and for your interest in Throughline!

[bluastro-yellow]

from the height of my pasta pedestal I bless you with the power to tell other italians I said to fuck off with the food purism

[martystlouis]

people who are too overprotective over food annoy me

[babygirlgeralt]

actually banning other white vegans from talking to me. come back when youre rational. come back when you actually care about humans and ALL animals and analysing agricultural practices.

[ed-recovery-affirmations]

Hi ! I've been looking for some advices, maybe an outside opinion, as well as sharing my experiences. I Hope it's ok.

I've already sent Asks here, being much more worse, and I wanted to say first of all that I'm doing much much better !!

I've been eating more and re-introduced carbs and fats and feat foods slowly and it feels like a lot sometimes, but it gets easier.

I'm not recovered totally at all, but I'm healthier both physically and mentally.

Problem is, I think I might be running from anorexia to orthorexia... At first I thought it would be a good things now that I felt capable of controling my food to include healthy meals and all, but it has become obsessive. Am I supposed to just eat ''unhealthy'' foods to have balance ? I sometimes feel like I have to, more for it to be socially acceptable and normal, rather than a Real want for it. I don't feel particulary proud of my ''healthy diet'', I'm actually suite ashamed of it in society.

Second of all, I realized that I might even look better with some more weight on. I Always had a hard Time gaining and I'm still not btw, but this is quite a comforting thought to have in recovery. I don't intend to monitor my weight and body but it reassures me. However, I still feel like gaining would make me worth less and even tho it's something that could be positive, I still bodycheck without thinking and am worried to gain when I eat more. I don't know how to fight it, since I've already told myself that weight gain could even be better and positive, and not only necessary...

Third and last (sorry this is so long), I'm exercising again. I Always liked to, since I was eight, and it makes me feel like I'm still holding onto something. I do pilates, and bodyweight strenght training one hour a day, with one rest day a week. I already decreased the time of exercice that I once did twice a day, and it feels okay.

But I don't really make progress, despite eating a lot of protein and working out a lot. On top of that, I still haven't got my period back in a long Time. What am I doing wrong ? I really don't want to abandon exercices, especially when I have so much free Time.

Thank you for Reading ! And thank you for this page, it helps a number of people.

Hi anon! I'm so glad to hear you've progressed this far in your recovery, even though it's never an easy journey. Even now, you're running into new worries. First of all, you don't "have to" eat anything you don't like. I think orthorexia is about an obsessive need to restrict your food intake down to what's "pure enough" eschewing even the smallest treat. I think a lot of people with orthorexia take it even further - worrying that their healthy food isn't pure enough, pursuing even more extreme diets - it's not pure enough if it's not raw, or dairy-free, or organic, just as a few possible examples. So if you enjoy foods like candy and chips, or sugar cereal and stuff like that, but feel like you cannot enjoy them specifically because they're not your "healthy" foods...that's orthorexia. But if you simply prefer the foods you're already eating, then you can feel free to continue to eat the foods you enjoy. Just make sure to keep your mind open enough that you'd be willing to try new foods if you really wanted them, and remember that "I don't like that," doesn't need any justification.

I think you might need to check in with yourself when you catch yourself body-checking or feeling like you'd be worth less with weight gain. What makes you feel that way? Try to examine these feelings without being judgmental toward yourself. Just unpack these feelings and try to go over some things in your mind that define your worth to you. These should ideally be things that have nothing to do with your body. Sit compassionately with your feelings, but do gently challenge them, and be aware that it may take time before you work out these challenging and conflicting feelings about the way your body will be.

As long as you're not over-exercising, eating enough to sustain yourself, and not compulsively matching your exercise to negate caloric intake, you should be okay. If you're asking why you're not gaining muscle or strength, I can't say for sure because I don't know your body. Maybe it's because your body went without for so long that right now it's just focusing on repairing the critical parts. And since it sounds like you might need to gain back a bit more weight in general (though I can't say that for sure since I don't know your health needs) maybe right now is a good time to focus on enjoying what you can do and how it makes you feel, and develop other hobbies to fill your free time with.

As to your period...I really don't know, I'm sorry. It entirely depends on your individual body and on your experiences in ED and restriction. I might consider consulting with your doctor and asking about what steps you can take to help your body re-regulate itself in that regard. If there are any specific nutrients or supplements you could take, or if you really just have to weight. It sounds like you're exercising pretty hard, which might delay the onset of your period further. But it really depends on certain body variables.

I hope I've been able to give you some help!

[script-a-world]

When creating a Fantasy world, how can you figure out where to use recognizable words and where to make up new ones?

I'm creating a whole new world and I realized that a lot of foods are named after Real Life places. It ended up opening a whole can of worms of trying to think of what words for itens and foods to keep and what ones to replace.

Tex: How far removed is your fantasy world to the one the reader comes from? Who are your readers? Are they from a single demographic (i.e. American, middle class, etc), or are they from varying demographics (Anglophones from across the planet, people of different religions, etc)? What does recognizable look like in your context?

If you’d like to mimic the look of Real Life Places, try introducing the place first, give it a few snippets of personality over a chapter or two, and then introduce the food. For example:

Chapter 1: Protagonist is in Red Door Village. There are very few red doors in this village, however protagonist is busy with Other Plot Things.

Chapter 2: Villager from Red Door Village answers question on the village’s name. “Well you see, ol' Granny Sewer's father couldn't see blue, and this was our only other paint." Mystery solved!

Chapter 3: Protagonist is in a town reasonably far from Red Door Village. They venture into an inn that has a red door, and the server recommends them their traditional dish. It turns out to be smoked herring ice cream. Protagonist learns that Ol’ Granny Sewer’s fifth cousin on her mother’s side who married into Fisherman Smoke’s family used to top all their food with smoked herrings, and did the same thing when ice cream came into town - it’s kind of grown on everyone, and most villagers will grudgingly admit it doesn’t taste that bad.

Voila, a food named after a place! In most instances, this is approximately the same amount of exposure to a food and its namesake place that is experienced in real life. How many people who have eaten New York-style pizza have been to New York? Proportionally, not many, though they’ve probably heard of the place in some aspect (most superficially, “this pizza is popular in New York”). It’s the same concept, you just need to put in a little more legwork on introducing to the audience a place in your world first, and then the food it’s named after.

Utuabzu: Another option is to take advantage of something called collocative substitution, where you can replace a part of a familiar phrase and readers will still be able to infer what it is. You often find this with insults like 'you absolute walnut', where it's clear that walnut is standing in for something significantly more unkind. So if you refer to 'Longish tea', people will infer it to be a kind of tea, perhaps equivalent to Chinese tea.

Otherwise you can also just replace the geographic adjective with a simpler descriptive one - bubbling wine instead of Champagne, spiced tea instead of masala chai, fruit-filled pastries instead of Danishes.

Feral: Unless you plan on creating a conlang and writing your story entirely in that conlang, maybe it’s best not to worry too much about it. “Uncleftish Beholding” by Poul Anderson is a famous sci-fi short story about atomic theory (that’s what the name means by the way) without using any loanwords whatsoever into English outside its German origins. It was an attempt to show just how stupid linguistic purism is, but I think this tumblr post does a pretty good job of explaining how to extend it to fantasy worlds.

[fivenightslaughter]

Wicked Serpentine (Part 7)

pairing: draco malfoy x femravenclaw!oc summary: slowburn enemies to lovers fic, a TON of parts. (continued after ... 3 years..) i'm back lol)

general fic warnings: blood purism, bullying, swearing, descriptive physical danger, violence. Awful Draco

taglist: @gloryekaterina

taglist: let me know if you’re interested in being added!

The class had gone by rather quickly, my mind quickly diving into the work at hand. I very easily learned how to hold my wand and use it from Professor Flitwick. Not that it was relevant to the nonverbal spells we’d be learning, but he was kind enough to teach me regardless.

It was easy to talk to Flitwick considering he seemed to have an unquellable interest in the muggle world. He wanted to know what it was like to be unaware of magic for so long. I wasn’t sure if it was common knowledge among all my professors that I was an absolutely green witch, but I was glad I didn’t have to explain.

Instead, I was free to banter with him, speaking of food and music and dastardly chores from back home. He seemed particularly interested in music and we dove down a path of pop and the multitude of different artists that existed in the muggle world.

It was nice to get lost in that little world for a while before the clock chimed again, signalling for students to head to the dining hall.

At least this time, I’d be able to follow anyone here to the Great Hall and wouldn’t have to rely on… I stopped myself. I attempted to gloss over the way here in my head, deciding it was something to think about later. Or never.

Arriving, I was a bit bothered I didn’t see Cho anywhere. Nor could my eyes seek out a fizzly blonde with weird glasses perched atop her head. I only had seconds left before the bodies strolling by me would thin out and I’d be left alone and pitiful looking.

As if noticing my predicament, I recognized a voice calling my name. My eyes darted to the source and released a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. It was Harry. He was seated across from Ron, who sat next to a brown-haired girl I recognized as his partner from Potions.

I steadily walked over, finding a space next to Harry. The girl was nose deep in a book, leading me to double check the color of her school tie. How interesting.

Harry noticed my curiosity towards her and let a small laugh escape him.

“That’s Hermione. It’s a wonder she isn’t in your house.”

Her head darted up, glaring at him. She picked food off of her plate and took a few bites before responding.

“No it’s not, you’re just being rude.” She stated plainly.

She couldn’t help a smile from crossing her face as she rolled her eyes, finally looking over at me. She sat her book down in her lap and stretched her hand across the table to shake mine.

“Hermione Granger. Pleasure to meet you.”

I took her hand, feeling ease wash over me. She seemed sweet and genuine, the same as the two other Gryffindor’s I’d met so far. Maybe this house was tolerable. Or at least, she was.

“Eris Woodwork. The pleasure’s mine.” I managed, trying to copy the same warmth they had when they talked to people.

I heard Ron stifle a laugh and both Hermione and I turned questioningly. Harry seemed equally as amused, his elbows propped on the table with a fork paused in his hand as he turned to Ron.

“It’s… It’s like she’s multiplying! Blimey mate, it’s a bookworm invasion!” He exclaimed, a mock grief painting his face. Hermione elbowed him again as Harry pressed his knuckles against his own lips, hiding a smile.

She looked back down at her book and a half-smile ghosted her face.

“If you keep mucking about, your food will turn cold.” She spoke matter-of-factly.

I watched Ron’s eyes widen and his mouth open and close like a fish before he nodded and began digging into his plate like no tomorrow. It was quite an odd sight and I found it hard to tear my eyes away until Harry spoke.

“So Eris, are you enjoying Hogwarts so far? Sorry if Ron and I distracted you in Potions. I swear it won’t happen again.” His last note was tinged with a bit of shame and I met his eyes. I wasn’t expecting an apology but it was rather pleasant.

“It’s fine, really-”

Ron cut me off with his mouth full of food, his words muffled by what looked like mashed potatoes.

“It’sf…” He paused and chewed, shoveling more food in his mouth. “...all tha’ bloody nonce Malfoy’s fault,” was all I understood as he griped, the rest more nonsense than the first part. I felt myself visibly stiffen at the name.

Hermione exasperatedly slammed her book closed and pursed her lips, turning to Ron.

“No one can understand a bloody word from your mouth, you’re the nonce.”

He turned to her and pointed a finger at her, swallowing his latest bite.

“You understood the word nonce!”

She pinched the bridge of her nose and they bickered back and forth long enough for me to tune it into the rest of the Hall’s loud conversations. I began to zone out as I ate and Harry turned to face me in his seat in an attempt to continue the conversation Ron had cut through.

“Sorry again, he’s a bit loud.” He shrugged.

I nodded. I could tell that at least. I decided to pick through what I should tell him without saying too much. Finally, I decided to just remark on the school.

“I love it here so far, the school itself is just gorgeous.” I felt like a bit ingenuine choosing that reply, but thankfully Harry hadn’t noticed.

“Oh yeah, it really is.” He seemed to glance up at the windows and scan his eyes over the tables, his eyes halting harshly in one spot. I followed his gaze and my limbs locked.

He was staring directly at a particular blond-haired boy, who was laughing and smirking across the hall as if he’d just done the most dastardly thing. I could see a glint of hostility in Harry’s eyes and almost as if he felt the glare, Malfoy looked up.

His eyes met Harry’s and I could swear I felt immediate unease just being next to the recipient of his leering. It looked like nothing short of a distraction could break their ogling deathmatch, so I gently tapped his shoulder.

“Harry?”

He head snapped back to me, a tension inside him visibly dissolving. Malfoy’s eyes met mine and I watched his lips press into a tight line.

I broke first, facing Harry. Shooting a short, questioning glance at me, he forked his food into his mouth.

“Yeah?” He answered

I shrugged, mirroring him and eating my food.

“Food’s good too.” I offered as my second observation, answering his question about my enjoyment of Hogwarts.

He nodded, agreeing.

Within the next couple minutes, he and Ron were conversing again as if nothing had happened. I didn’t move to include myself and I wasn’t mentioned again, but I was glad for that.

I was just satisfied I’d had somewhere to sit and eat.

After a bit, I noticed people finishing up. A few people left and I poked and prodded at bits left on my plate. Due to my unusually formatted schedule, I didn’t have another class today. I assumed this was to allow me to digest what I’d learned and possibly practice and catch up to the best of my abilities.

I moved to the side as I noticed the three I’d sat down with preparing to leave. I attempted to catch Hermione’s attention as she got up, as I’m sure she could answer a question dancing on my tongue.

“Hermione, you know where the library is, right? Any chance you could spot me some directions from here before you go?” I lifted out of my seat, pulling parchment out of my bag in case she needed to write it down or something rather. It’d be smart to have a damn map to my destinations.

Her eyes twinkled and she motioned for my paper, plucking a quill and sitting back down momentarily with it. She scribbled lines marking the halls and wrote lefts and rights, even labelling doors I’d pass to get there. She seemed to mark a couple other directions and I raised my eyebrows as I glanced around the dining hall. It took a bit longer than I’d expected.

Folding it in four and passing it back, she hesitated for a second.

“There’s a main library that Madam Pince oversees, but if you’d like somewhere more secluded… I added some other spots. But please, be careful. This school can be treacherous.”

I nodded, curious as to what she could have simultaneously added and needed to warn me about. She stood back up from her seat and waved goodbye, exiting. Ron had barely noticed and scrambled after her and Harry placed a hand on my shoulder.

“Sit with us any time. You’re welcome over here, alright?” He grinned, taking off in the same direction as his friends.

I maneuvered my legs to the other side of the table bench I’d eaten at, now facing outwards. I watched as people spilled out of the hall on their own time, my elbows pressing into my knees and my head resting in my hands. Some people still sat in conversation, but after a good five minutes, the clock tower chimed, bringing them to their feet.

I wasn’t going to stay behind in an empty dining hall, but I had to examine this map before I could leave. I turned back to face the table, smoothing the parchment out.

Christ, she got detailed with this, didn’t she? There were lines and labels leading me to the library and to Potions, which I was thankful for. There were other directions the lines branched out in and it was almost confusing.

The library, the ‘Room of Requirement’, and the ‘Dungeons’ were listed, detailed directions to all of them. My eyebrows shot up and I tried to keep an incredulous laugh down. Fucking dungeons? I guess I shouldn’t have expected anything less from a castle.

I wasn’t sure which one scared me more. She had included a tidbit about how the Room of Requirement would appear and contain anything the person who needed it may require. I didn’t trust in my magical skills or intuition enough to wander to a magical room, but now she had intrigued me to go somewhere that wasn’t the normal library.

I noticed a shadow cast on the table as I analyzed the map and didn’t think much of it. Not until I remembered the Great Hall had mostly filed out and I should be alone. My breath hitched and I had to clear my throat to hide a cough.

The shadow spoke and I cringed at the voice, not wanting to turn around.

“If you’re headed to the dungeons, I hope something eats you down there.”

My nostrils flared. Normal library with Madam Pince it was, then. I folded the map and pretended to look for a book in my bag. Frustratingly, ignoring him didn’t make him leave.

What did he want? Why was he near me?

Giving up, I turned and tried my hardest not to look at his face. I was just going to try and leave to the stupid library. I started to stand and I watched as his hand came down on my right shoulder, pushing me back down to the seat.

I finally met his eyes. They weren’t smoldering like they had been earlier, but they were filled with something I didn’t recognize. His hand was stone on my shoulder.

“They’ve already got a mudblood in their pathetic little group. You’re not even in their house.” He spat. I wondered for a second if his hate for the three of them outweighed his hatred for me. If this was an insult or thickly disguised advice.

“I didn’t recognize anyone at the Ravenclaw table.” I muttered quietly, looking down at the floor. He removed his hand from my shoulder as if it burned him to touch me.

“I’d pity you if you weren’t a worm in the dirt, Woodwork.” His tone was unreadable.

I felt my shoulders slump. It was still the first day and I was already tired of these interactions.

“Yeah. Dirt on the floor, filthy mudblood, stain of a girl. I think I’ve got it pretty down pat. Thanks.” I sighed heavily, now able to stand.

I didn’t bother to check his face, walking out. Hermione’s directions carried me to the library with ease and I had to figure out to scrub yet another interaction out of my mind on the way there.

I’m at Hogwarts to study and learn magic.

Draco be damned.

[cruelsister-moved2]

this is exactly what im always saying about that argument comparing sw to working in food service or whatever is like. yeah and i see that work as exploitative and misogynistic too due to its situation within a wider society that compels people to sell labour they’d rather not be selling and imparts different standards on women than it does men so the fact i had to deal with sexual harassment and a higher expectation of emotional labour (original intended meaning) than my male colleagues while working at subway, and the fact i had to make myself ill and miserable working there when my well-off classmates didn’t, is worthy of critique, and ultimately i really believe that no one should have to make overpriced sandwiches for entitled families, but like i wasn’t a bad person for working there and shouldn’t be punished for doing so. the existence of distaste for this industry rooted in moral purism doesn’t preclude the possibility of legitimate leftwing critique as much as of any other industry.  PLUS again with the selective analogies it’s like that labour-only analogy allows u to ignore the fact that the selling is 90% women and the buying is 99% men because it might challenge the position you want to hold to confront the gendered nature of the exploitation in this specific case. but surely if your position is legitimate it should be able to weather the strain of these complexities rather than hiding behind metaphor all the time 🧐

[phantomato]

all of those ideas sound awesome, first of all. secondly, i love when voldemort is written as having political aspirations that don't just contribute to his personal power (or the standard blood/magic purism), so what are your ideas for the nobby leach story?

Yes! I think Voldemort is, like most people, primarily driven by political interests that affect his own life (even the blood purism is in service of him pursuing enough personal power to never be the disadvantaged orphan/mudblood again), and the Knockturn story takes that in a new-for-me direction. This would be a Tom Riddle who thinks of Knockturn as home, and a Nobby Leach who has also found community in the central hub of magical cast-offs.

In my vision, Tom starts small. A community garden, probably, in one of the empty lots/on the roof of his building. He’s got a hag for a neighbor who composts food scraps, he’s always dissatisfied with the availability of fresh produce in the lean years after the war, and they have magic, god damn it, there should be something better than this. Leach is the rabble-rouser who goads Tom into making more of it than just a small personal project.

I would want to explore more of the Knockturn community. Who runs these businesses, both legitimate and not? Who passes through the neighborhood versus who stays? What are the needs of the community and how are they being met? What’s the comparative treatment of Knockturn versus Diagon versus magical people in outlying towns? Tom’s not going to fix everyone’s problems or take over the world, that’s not how I like to write him, but he would be the boots on the ground as the country recovers from a war and Knockturn realizes they’re being left behind.

[madtomedgar]

Technically, Jin Guangyao did kill his son.

Rusong’s latest little imperiousness was that he would only eat noodles. Nothing else. Nothing on the noodles. Nothing with the noodles. Just noodles. Of course, a diet of noodles and noodles only was hardly sufficient for a child of four. Jin Guangyao could have sat his son down before a plate of food and refused to let him up until he had eaten it, or some other such forceful method, but that would only have entrenched Rusong’s stubbornness further, and these phases in children did not last long. Besides, there was one exception to this noodle purism, and it was easy enough to accommodate. Rusong would eat almost anything if he was sitting on his father’s knee, and the food came from his father’s plate, and his father made a grand show of sadness that his son would not share a meal with him and refused to touch his own food until Rusong had eaten a share of it. It wasn’t exactly the dignified behavior of a chief cultivator, and he highly doubted his own father would have done anything close to it, even with his precious Zixuan, but Jin Guangyao had missed all the little childish follies a-Ling had grown out of, and he would miss this when Rusong finally decided to eat something that wasn’t noodles on his own again.

And so, as he had been doing of late, Jin Guangyao interrupted his son’s darting about the room to call him over to have dinner with him. He held the squirming boy on his lap and pleaded with him with wide sad eyes and a stuck out lower lip until Rusong gave the long-suffering sigh of a four-year-old being forced to eat vegetables. Then he took up his chopsticks and began feeding his son from his own plate, occasionally letting Rusong feed him something as well. This wouldn’t be possible at the flower-viewing banquet in two weeks. Rusong would have to eat in the family’s pavilion, separately, while Jin Guangyao and Qin Su entertained their guests. For that reason alone, he was not looking forward to it. He was incredibly jealous of the small, precious, and fragile feelings his little son (little abomination) sprouted in his chest, sunlight caught in a glass vial, albeit a sticky glass vial, and he hoarded and coveted them like a miser with coppers. 

Jin Guangyao was about to relent and agree that Rusong had eaten enough snow peas and fish, and could resume running about when Rusong’s eyes rolled back in his head and he began convulsing in his arms, bloody foam peeking from the corners of his mouth. 

A doctor was called. The poisoner was apprehended. The antidote was found. Jin Guangyao recovered. Jin Rusong did not.

He hadn’t planned it, hadn’t known it would happen, hadn’t put the poison in the food or ordered it done. But he’d been indulgent, permissive, and sentimental where he should have been strict and careful.

And in doing so, Jin Guangyao had killed his son.

[fennopunk]

As you've probably noticed, composting has turned out to be a thing of passion for me, but as I've started really dwell into it, it has also become a great source of bafflement and frustration.

While I have really only started learning about composting this spring, my family have composted way before I was born. Sort of expected, since I branch from a long line of professional gardeners... So when I started learning about composting and joined a composting group, and what I saw was rules and rigid methods and purism, I was confused and overwhelmed because they made me feel like I don't know anything and I do everything wrong unless I do everything exactly like some dude on the opposite side of the planet.

Then I realized that I already knew the essentials by heart: assign a place or bin or something for your compostables, chug things in, and nature will do its job. Rest is just finetuning, if you want to avoid stuff like smells, leaky things or rats. There's no one-size-fits-for-all solution for composting no matter what some people want you to believe. Now, I live in an apartment building which means I need a lot of finetuning, and because I already knew the most popular choices for indoor composts, vermicompost and bokashi (also what some people claim are the only options...) didn't really work for me, I decided to turn my gaze on to the composting I knew, inspect how and why it worked, and figure out how to make it work for me. So I tortured my memory and interrogated my family on how we actually deal with our bins at our cottage.

My family's cottage currently have maybe 6 composters, 1 "all goes" bin, 2 garden bins and 3 for human manure (in others words: our toilet).

This is the "all goes" bin. We compost all the common things, like veggie scraps and stuff, but we also compost meat, fish, cooked food, grains... The list goes on. If it's been alive at least semi-recently and is relatively unprocessed, in the bin it goes. Alas, meat and the like gets buried, of course, because we DO have some big predators here.

The bins at my mom's garden. These mainly receive garden scraps, but sometimes we put kitchen scraps there too, because they are closest to our main building. We rotate with them, so while one is being filled, the other is left alone to do its business.

And our composting toilet system. It's emptied from the bottom every now and then (mostly by my brother or mom, because I have the weakest stomach of us, and I think I threw up the last time I tried) to the bins behind it, and once the manure has composted on its own for a while, we mix it with compost from other bins and used gardening soil. The result we then mostly give to our non-edible plants.

Now, my own compost, the one people half a planet away are so keen to police, is in many ways very similar to the general compost at the cottage.

It gets almost all of my kitchen waste, meat and dairy included, although I don't often have to throw those away, and when I do, the amounts are usually tiny. It's smaller, just a regular storage box, so I can keep it in my apartment and later in my storage unit at the basement, while at the cottage the bin is MUCH bigger. My bin also gets all the garden scraps, dry leaves, non-coated cardboard, newspaper, etc and it needs to be throughoutly turned at least every other week, and I need to keep my eye more closely on carpon nitrogen ratio and moisture. Also, none of the bins in the cottage are specifically aerobic or nonaerobic, but to speed up the composting process and to keep odors at the minimum, my bin is clearly aerobic (meaning, the bacteria that mostly does the composting part needs oxygen to thrive, so I need to make sure they get it).

At this stage, my compost bin is strictly experimental, I want to see if I can do the whole process in the same environment, so it's still possible it fails. But so far the results are promising. It took only couple weeks for two big pears that had gone bad, to fully decompose. The moldy fish fillet, the largest amount of meat I've tried to compost on my own, is already half gone after two weeks. I currently have to battle with invasion of fruit flies and gnats, but I'm optimistic that I soon manage to win them (we don't mind bug at the cottage, but this is indoor bin in my kitchen, so...).

[himiko-yumehellno]

Ngl, I am so tempted to make a Carrd about mspec Tenko, just because of all the headcanon purism in this fandom saying she's "canonly" a lesbian when according to Danganronpa she's canonly attracted to men.

On a different topic, I'm in a Tenko mood, so if you want, feel free to ask for my headcanons regarding her and whatever thing/situation you'd like (for example, headcanons for her in a monster au, or what kinds of food she likes).