#Food tastes Dubai

[shehzadi]

have tried so many different arab/middle eastern cuisines in the last week but nothing even came close to knocking indian out of the number one spot

[thedalatribune]

© Paolo Dala

The Everyday And The Celebratory

…we find ourselves enjoying time in the kitchen with familyikids, grandparents, and other loved ones - working to create memories and camera-ready, mouthwatering delicacies.

We also find ourselves rushing even more to get regular dinners on the table amid the crush of holiday parties, family visits, and school activities. Some days, we’re just grateful there is clean silverware in the drawer and that the microwave works.

Food is about the everyday and the celebratory. Tell us the story of your family food traditions. Think of ingredients as the characters.

Becky Hale and April Fulton Tastes Like Home

[fazalkhan2914]

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[fingerfooddelivery]

Finger Food Delivery Dubai - Taste Studio

Taste Studio is a multi-award-winning event catering and food services company. finger food Dubai We are a family-owned business that started out in Dubai but has since spread out to Abu Dhabi and Doha. We have been in business for over a decade and continue to grow and expand.

At Taste Studio, we believe in providing our customers with the best of service and quality, which is why we strive to maintain excellence and constantly improve. We know that the success of any event lies in the quality of food and service.

Taste Studio is your one-stop-shop for catering any kind of event, from small, intimate gatherings to large scale corporate and commercial events. Finger food Delivery Dubai As one of the leading event caterers in Dubai, we bring you delicious, creative and unique food menus no matter what venue you choose for your event. Whether it’s a cake, a buffet, a plated meal, a finger food station or any other food item, we will create a menu tailored specifically to your event.

To know more about Finger food Delivery Dubai visit our site

[hellotailor]

When crafting Armand's aesthetic, costume designer Carol Cutshall wanted to emphasize his power. The 500-year-old vampire spent most of Season 1 pretending to be Louis' human servant Rashid, dressed in softly draped black outfits, often with a plunging neckline — implicitly available to be bitten by his master. This encouraged us to see him as youthful and vulnerable, although we now know the opposite is true. According to Cutshall, Armand's taste for open-necked outfits actually signals his position as "the highest predator on the food chain." When he switches to a more business-casual look in Season 2, his shirts remain unbuttoned at the throat because he has nothing to fear.

"One of the things about Armand is he is so ancient and so powerful that he always presents himself as very open," she explained. "Whereas some of the other characters are very covered up, he's always very open because he really doesn't see anyone as a threat to himself."

My interview with IWTV's costume designer!

[blush-pedri]

winner, winner | f. torres

summary: the spain national team win the euros and ferran’s girls couldn’t be prouder.

notes: dad!ferran always 😭 a draft from my old accounts i’ve edited to be more fitting. quickly edited. let me know what you think!!! enjoy! <3

“—AND HERE, PRINCESSA, IS WHERE your papi is going to lift the trophy tomorrow.”

his teammates laughed, smiling at the pair as others continued to walk around and inspect the pitch, mentally preparing themselves for the big day ahead.

ferran stood laughing as well, chuckling heartily even with a pink plastic pacifier hanging between his teeth and soft baby blanket in his arms, his entire heart and soul blinking up at him, clueless to his reason for laughter.

tia torres was, and always would be, his greatest prized possession. i mean, he wouldn’t complain if he got a trophy in his arms tomorrow, but no feeling would top the one when he held his baby girl.

she was just about to turn one, starting to crawl and make funny sounds. ferran was adamant to get her to say papi first, he didn't care if she was halfway there to 'mama' with her drawn out 'mmm's', he knew she understood him and wouldn't let him down by saying papi first. everytime he spoke to her, your heart melted. always such a upbeat, soft tone, he spoke nice and clear to her in the hopes she would repeat it back. he was so sweet with her, so in love, and the way she looked at him and smiled when he talked - you knew she was in love with him too.

she came into your lives a little unexpectedly and despite all the worries and anxieties, you didn’t know what you did without her. ferran didn’t know what he did without her. he didn’t know what he did before her. he felt like an entirely different man since tia came into your lives and cringed at the man he was before. he liked the night feeds and the early mornings. he liked the tasting of bad baby food and job of freshening his girl up with a fresh diaper. he liked the challenge of getting her to sleep (which was easy for him than you) and taking her out by himself so you could enjoy some time to yourself.

he took pride in being a ‘young dad’, he didn’t care about going to nightclubs in dubai or festivals in ibiza anymore, he was happy to be at home with his two girls and make many, many memories with the pair of you.

he stood with her in his arms, walking her around the pitch with his barça teammates by his side. tomorrow was the final against england and you’d flown out with your daughter for what you knew would be a historic moment. after all, you wanted to show your support and be there for your boyfriend in time of celebration or comfort.

“just think, hermano, this time tomorrow, we’ll be here, getting ready for kickoff,” pedri’s arms excitedly shook ferran’s shoulders from behind, hyping him up at the thought. bless him, he’d suffered an injury in his leg, but that didn’t stop his excitement for his teammates playing in the final.

tia’s eyes widened in her sleepy state, looking up at her papi who still had her pacifier in his mouth. he moved her around to face him, smiling at pedri’s antics as she stared up at him, reaching for her dummy, but ferran pulled away teasingly, watching her half-amusingly fight for it. the boys smiled at his immaturity, always messing around - even with a one year old. “hermanoo, give her it,” even pedri thought he was cruel, pouting sympathetically at the little girl.

he chuckled as tia’s small smile turned into a frown as she started to whimper frustratedly, and he gave in, letting go of the dummy for her to take back. "'m only joking, mi princessa, te amo mucho," her cheek was quickly smothered by his kisses as she rightfully sucked her dummy into her mouth. he’d never mean to upset his baby girl on purpose.

he continued to carry her around the pitch, bouncing her slightly as he knew she was usually asleep at this time, but her schedule was a little off with the travelling making her miss out her nap and now with ferran begging you to take her to see the stadium, she was behind on getting her final bottle which usually sent her to sleep.

although it looked like she didn’t need a bottle, as her eyes slowly fluttered with each rock of her daddy’s arms, she was content and cozy in his embrace and didn’t care about the big bright lights shining down on her. if she was in her daddy’s arms, she could fall asleep anywhere.

when she woke up again. it was 6:30am. you’d spent the entire day with her in berlin, exploring with ferran’s family while he was with the international team, prepping for the big day. you were nervous since the minute you woke up, wishing and praying things went their way and that ferran and the team got the result they wanted. you just hoped he would be fine no matter the turnout, and that tia would be able to put a smile on his face no matter what. he’d been playing so well and deserved it more than anything.

the next time you were in the stadium, tia was with you, dressed in a mini 11 jersey with papa on the back, she looked around the place she’d been in just the day before.

you were on edge the entire game, unable to take your eyes off the field and when halftime ended with 0-0, your anxieties increased. ferran was on the bench, undoubtedly awaiting a substitute until the game kicked off and not 2 minutes later - spain had the lead.

the stadium roared and you got the first real sense of hope and belief, trying not to jump and yell too much given your baby was still sat on your knee. from your point of view, you tried to point to the players bench where her papi sat, but she was clueless, too many things going on and too much to look at to keep her occupied, she was transfixed on the many different flags and people surrounding her.

when england scored, you were a wreck again, and prepared yourself for pens when m. oyarzabal shot the second goal into the net and all your nerves deflated. there was no coming back now, you had nothing to be afraid of.

the final whistle blew and you couldn’t stop yourself from jumping up, your daughter jumping in your arms, you yelled out with almost tears of happiness as she looked around bewildered. the stadium was thriving, singing and jumping, celebrating their country as fireworks went off. you watched the team take the stage, proudly representing their kit and your heart swelled with pride as your ferran stepped up the stage, shaking the hands of some very important people before his medal was hung deservingly around his neck.

as other families of players made their way to the pitch, you followed in lead, buzzing with excitement as you led you and tia down the steps.

ferran was talking with pedri’s family when he thought he heard you call him. he glanced around and broke out into the biggest smile when he saw you making your way over with your baby girl in your arms. “it’s papiiii!” you bounced her, trying to get her excited, “clap for papi!”

“mi querida!” he nabbed her from your hands and jumped around, kissing her over and over and over again while your heart exploded with joy. you stepped back and took photos as he tossed her in the air, her sweet giggles melting the hearts of anyone around. “we did it! we did it, bebe!”

tia’s hands held her daddy’s face as he held her in the air, grinning down at him, he took her dummy away so he could see those two little bottom teeth smiling at him.

“congrats! mi guapo,” you finally interrupted their moment, feeling left out, you wrapped your arms around your other half and squeezed him tightly. “we are so so so proud of you!”

“hermosa,” he awed, looking at his main girl. his entire world before his mini-me came along. “te amo.” he kissed your lips, and then again and again and again. you wrapped you arm around his neck and hugged your little family, kissing your daughter’s head before she started to feel jealousy again.

“te amo,” you batted your lashes lovingly at him, looking at those beautiful brown eyes you’d fallen in love with before placing a long sweet kiss on his cheek.

“tia!!” pedri’s voice called as he hurried quickly over to the little one. he didn’t know much about babies but one thing was for sure was that she was definitely ferran’s kid. she was just him as a baby with longer lashes and a cuter nose. “hello, cutie,” he tickled her arm with his finger.

she reached for him willingly, smiling at the familiar face and he gladly accepted her embrace, always flattered she would leave her papi for him for a few minutes.

“congratulations!” you sang from ferran’s side, sharing your pride for the boy. you weren’t the only one classed as ferran’s other half – you shared that title with pedri.

“thank you, y/n,” he nodded, his leg brace pulling a little at your heartstrings. you were glad he got to experience the win with the team nonetheless and got the medal he deserved. “campeons!” he sang, raising tia’s arm in the air.

“oh wow! isn’t she gorgeous,” pedri’s mum appeared with the rest of his family, his brother greeting the little baby in his brothers arms.

“thank you,” you smiled, watching them awe over her daughter.

“she gets it from me,” ferran cockily smirked, running his hand over his hair like he was some model which made you laugh. you elbowed his side as pedri handed her back, reaching for the trophy being handed his way.

“take your baby, i need to hold my baby,” he proudly took the award into his hands and began posing with his prized possession, leaving you and ferran to chuckle while he got his photos with his family.

ferran sat on the ground with tia who was infatuated with the confetti (trying to eat fistfuls of it which he had to keep pulling from). he placed the medal around her and took some of his own photos, classing this day as probably one of the best days of his life. here with you and his baby girl, feeling like all his hard work paid off in the moment. “are you proud of papa?”

“of course she is proud of her papa,” you answered for her, “she is proud of her papa every single day. she is proud of you when you manage to open a door, let’s be honest!”

he laughed, flicking more confetti from her hands. “are you? are you proud of your papa?” he looked down at her, mirroring her sitting position with her legs apart and hands inbetween. she looked so tiny across from him. “can you say papa? say papaaa.”

“pa!”

“yes! say papa!”

“pa!!” she repeated, laughing at his pleased reaction.

“yes!”

cameras clicked in your direction as the three of you stood together, tia getting distracted by the medal around her daddy’s neck and inspecting it curiously as the trophy was passed in ferran’s direction.

he posed with the trophy, the proud look on your face only growing before you joined. “wow,” you thought, running your thumb over the engraved title of spain on the silver. you all smiled with it, tia playing with the red and yellow ribbon when ferran lifted her to try and set her in it.

“ferran!” you laughed, watching your baby share a look of confusion and maybe a little discomfort from the cold metal at why her dad had placed her in there. he chuckled and quickly lifted her out, kissing her once more.

“that is getting framed for the living room,” he promised, laughing at the image.

her tiny fits wrapped around his fingers as he stood her up from the ground, keeping her still next to the trophy she was almost the same size as. he kissed it once more before handing it off to his next teammate, happy with his time with it. “my girls,” he smiled, hugging his little one on his left and pulling you into his side on the right. “i wouldn’t be able to do it without you,” he kissed both your heads.

“hmm, you couldn’t have done it without your teammates, more so,” you joked.

he rolled his eyes and shook you playfully, feeling you hand hold his over your shoulder as you began to walk around the pitch, greeting other families and congratulating his teammates. really, it gave ferran an excuse to show off his baby girl to his teammates and show just how cute she was, and how much he looked just like him.

to show off both his girls in general, and how they made him feel like he was a winner every day.

[lisenberry]

Don't have a name for this one yet, but this is Part One of Posh!Price, and my third entry in the Summer Love series.

Inspired in no small part by this amazing ask from a few months ago.

NSFW/MDNI/18+

CW: somewhat public sex, Price smokes and drinks, language.

There was nothing John hated more than pomp and fanfare.  Or tiny plates of cold, unidentifiable food.  Or the physical constraints of formal dinner wear.  Give him a waist-deep swamp, a warm MRE, and thirty pounds of gear any day.  Anything but the soul-sucking misery of a back-patting, bureaucratic group wank.

The only reason he was at the gala at all was because he didn’t have a choice.  Well, he always had a choice, in theory.  But in practice, he knew he’d be there the moment you asked him so nicely.  With a glowing smile and the promise that you’d make it worth his time.  He could sit still, and behave, like a good lad.

For a little while, at least.   

Finally, after the third hour of watching your every move from the edges as you made your rounds to financiers and well-to-dos, he refilled his glass of whisky at the open bar and took a fresh cigar to the secluded terrace.  With the full-bodied taste of earthy leather, sweet molasses and crisp cedar settling thickly on his tongue, he reflected on the circumstances that brought him there.

He’d met you six months prior at a product development retreat to introduce a new communication device that would resist both detection and interference in the field.  He’d been skeptical of your credentials at first, but by the time you finished your presentation and answered every one of his biting remarks with ease, he was left impressed with your knowledge not only of the tech, but of the practical application as well. 

You had experience with the weaknesses of the current equipment, and the upgrades would significantly improve not only the efficiency of the tradecraft, but the safety of his team.

He’d sought you out for the rest of the weekend, practically joined you at the hip, as you bonded over your shared combat experience and time at the Royal Military Academy in Sandhurst, although you’d been several years behind him. 

By the end, you’d exchanged numbers and a handful of nights together since.  When he was off mission, and you were in between business travel.  And there was that one wild night in Dubai when your flight paths had crossed clandestinely. 

Neither of you were in a position to make things any more official, but he never turned down the chance to spend more time with you. 

“How’d I know you’d be hiding out here?”  He heard you approach even before you spoke, as you wrapped your arms around his waist from behind. 

“I’ve hit my limit on polite conversation, I’m afraid.” 

John could stay hidden, and completely still in a bush for 24 hours without so much as blinking, all while holding a rifle scope steady on a target kilometers away.  But he’d grown restless to be so near, and yet so far away from you.

“What about impolite conversation?” you countered, slipping a hand lower to where his tuxedo shirt tucked into his trousers.  “Think we could fuck out here without anyone seeing us?” you murmured into the side of his neck. 

Your heels gave you just enough height to reach a bit of exposed skin above the collar of his well-fit jacket.

“Why do you think I chose this advantage point?” he growled with a grin, twisting around to face you and holding his cigar between his teeth.  It freed his hands to pull you closer, enough to feel just how much he needed you and slip up under the slit of your evening dress.

The smoke from it hung heavy in the humid summer air between you. 

You’d told him you didn't care much for cigars before you met him, but that your granddad would smoke the same label in his office when he’d let you sit atop his lap and listen to old war stories.

He'd been too young in WW2, but he'd served after.  The rebuilding in Berlin and the struggles throughout the continent that followed.  The Cold War and later, the troubles in Ireland.  His greatest successes and his deepest regrets.

John didn’t seem to mind that you’d drawn a connection between him and childhood memories of your grandfather, but you'd held off from confessing that it was something even stronger than just a pleasant recollection.  It was a feeling deep in your bones, of when home was a place in the world.  Concrete and unmoving, and yet a soft place to land.  Not just another tumultuous thing to be handled.  

Navigated.  Fixed.

With John, you found comfort again.  Or at least, recognized the possibility.  But still, you pulled the thick roll from his mouth as if it was competing for his attention and claimed his deceptively soft lips and warm tongue in a kiss that was as long as it was deep. 

“I’ve missed you, John.”  One night together was never enough.  Two was always a pleasant surprise, but they were few and far between.  Anything more was wishful thinking.

“I have a short leave starting the week after next.  Are you free?”  He nuzzled the length of his chin along your cheek, unwillingly to sever the connection even as he spoke.  His hands moved circles up along your hips.

“I’m going home for a family thing at our place in the country.  You’re welcome to tag along.”  You’d meant the last part to sound more sarcastic, but your voice hitched as he pressed you against the stone railing and spread your legs to better fit him against you.

“Where is it?”

“Herefordshire.  I was only kidding.  It’ll be horribly...I don’t even know how to describe it.”  

What were the odds that it would be the same area where he’d grown up as well?  In between his time at boarding schools, at least.  He was about sixteen the last time he’d been home.  He understood all too well the stress of returning.

However, he was unwilling to give you up for long. Not when you smelled like gardenias, looked at him so fondly, and clung so snuggly around his waist.

“How can I say ‘no’, when you’ll be there?”  It was his turn to claim your mouth, as he quickly proved just how clever he was at evading detection.

You just had to stay quiet, and not drop his cigar.

[the-quiet-youve-been-longing-for]

Wild thoughts but

What if part of the reason why Louis and Armand don't read Daniel's mind is that he has an higher than most mental resistence?

He was in that room in SF for 4 days at least before Armand decided to do the "rest" speech to him. The cassette of the OG interview says 4th September, Armand called Lestat the 8th of September.

4 days of most likely brain scramblies, poor/no food, most likely no sleep because who sleeps in that situation apart from exhaustion, possibly more drugs

And yet, he had the strength to resist Armand's speech, saying he is a bright reporter with a point of view, that he has a job in the city, that he doesn't want to rest. He relents only when Armand straight up goes with hypnosis, but compare this to how little time it takes for Annika to crumble under Santiago's spell.

I'm also thinking Armand saw a little bit of this, as he starts to talk about his first memory about Delhi, then at the second he stops himself. He notices Daniel had a way about him, a strength of character. What makes him fascinating.

Thinking more about the meaning of mind reading:

The only times Louis tries to enter his thoughts in Dubai are to poke fun at him ("You were wondering how much he weights, what he tastes like*") or to straight up hurt him (the Alice thing). In other words, when he either was 'performing' for him or when he wants to retort back. The rest of the time, he lets him be.

And Armand, pain-filled Armand, just straight up doesn't or doesn't let him know he did it. And when Louis causes distress to him because of it, he apologises on his behalf.

*side note, this is a crazy thing to think about Daniel, but we know you are an outlier

[xclowniex]

Something which leaves a sour taste in my mouth when it comes to boycotting Israeli products is that it does not do anything.

Most Israeli products besides produce are bought by jews, most of whom are not going to boycott said products due to often limited kosher options/not being able to buy traditional food elsewhere or being against boycotting Israeli products.

Also, Israeli companies employ Palestinian workers. If a boycott did work, these companies would have to either shut down or down size depending on how much profit they make from overseas buyers. And if companies were to shut down or downsize, Palestinian workers are going to lose their jobs, their ability to feed themselves and their families.

Does making Palestinians jobless really outweigh Israeli products on shelves?

And also like, no other country is being boycotted with their exports. Yall will still buy stuff from China even though they are committing genocide against uyghur folk. Yall will still buy products from Dubai even though migrant exploitation is rampant. Like companies will literally steal migrant workers' passports and turn them into slaves.

But suddenly when it comes to the one Jewish country, it's all "we must boycott products".

[sofyachy]

Food Omens Chapter 5: The Hummus Olympics

Dubai, [Date Redacted]

“Angel, what did you do?” Crowley asked as they crouched behind a table that had been turned onto its side. Beyond the table, they could hear voices yelling, punctuated by the sounds of wet things going splat.  

“Well,” Aziraphale nervously ran his finger along the edge of the table. “In my defense, I thought it would bring peace to the Middle East.”

Crowley palmed his face.

“You,” he sighed, “thought you could single-handedly end violence to a part of the world that’s been at war for almost all of humanity’s existence.”

“I thought it would be like the Olympics, only with food!” Aziraphale cried. “‘Wouldn’t it be fun,’ I said. ‘Each of your countries – or, rather, cultures – has some form of hummus. Let’s all come together and make it a contest!’” He waved his hands dramatically as he waggled his eyebrows. “‘Let’s see who’s hummus is the best!’”

“Angel,” Crowley groaned.

“It started out peacefully enough, anyway,” Aziraphale continued. 

“And then?”

“Well, then the Americans decided to get involved. They kept insisting that their hummus was vegan.”

Crowley furrowed his brows and tried to perform the right set of calculus equations that would make that statement make sense. “But hummus is just chickpeas, olive oil, and tahini, innit? ‘S already vegan.”

“Yes, I know!” Aziraphale threw up his hands in frustration. “But they also added vegan bacon. It didn’t go over well, I’m afraid.”

Crowley leaned over and wiped a glob of hummus off the angel’s cheek with his finger.

“Is that when your Olympics turned into a battle royale?” He popped the finger into his mouth and sucked it clean.

Aziraphale closed his eyes at the sight and tried to think of world peace instead. “More or less,” he admitted. “I honestly don’t know who flipped the table first, but all the hummus has been sent airborne. It’s quite a disaster, I’m afraid.” 

He looked Crowley up and down. “How did you manage to get here without getting covered in it, anyway?”

“Must’ve been a miracle,” Crowley smirked.

“I see,” Aziraphale replied, narrowing his eyes in suspicion. “And you just happened to be in the neighborhood, did you?”

At this, Crowley’s smirk broke into a wide, shit-eating grin. “Who do you think talked the Americans into bringing vegan bacon?”

“Oh, Crowley, you utter fiend!” Aziraphale huffed.

Crowley barked a laugh.

Aziraphale saw a big glob of hummus fly past the table they were hiding behind. With a wave of his hand, he redirected it to land on Crowley’s face with a most undignified splat.  

“Oi!” Crowley cried, wiping the dip from his eyes.

“That must have been a miracle,” the angel commented airily. “Consider yourself thwarted.”

The demon growled, “I’ll show you a thwarting,” and smeared the hummus into Aziraphale’s hair.

“Ahhh!” Aziraphale screeched in alarm. He picked up more hummus and rubbed it onto Crowley’s shirt. 

Crowley retaliated by wiping more hummus down the angel’s neck, sliding a finger under his collar. 

Things devolved from there until the two beings were rolling on the floor, covered in hummus. Aziraphale landed on top and pinned Crowley underneath him, slightly out of breath. Without thinking, he lowered himself and licked along the demon’s jawline.

Crowley gasped. “What did you do that for?” he asked, feeling a slight panic seize him. 

“It tastes better without vegan bacon,” Aziraphale commented absently before he fully realized what position he and Crowley were in. 

“Oh,” he breathed. “Crowley…I...”

“Do it again.”

And in that moment, it was quite impossible to think of world peace.

Find more chapters on AO3

[fazalkhan2914]

In addition to purchasing quality foods and healthful treats, people are also spending more time playing with their four-legged buddies. This creates a market for useful and fashionable gear to entice folks to go outside and enjoy a run or walk with their pets! For more info visit us: https://www.petsonline.ae/cat-food

[nalyra-dreaming]

(Spoilers)

Hi!

Do you think louis’ no killing humans since y2k comment to Daniel has anything to do with how we know Louis will visit lestat in that the dilapidated moss covered NOLA house during season 2? Wasn’t there speculation that those scenes may take place in the recent past, based on production details about trucks being required from around that era? Could whatever have happened there have provoked louis to ask armand for more mind altering intervention and that coincided with stricter dietary habits and moving to Dubai?

Hey!

Ah you mean my ask a while back I think.

Yes, I do think that the NOLA Moss House visit might have been around that time, instead "now", as in Dubai time. The trucks wanted for that scene seem to indicate that.

If that may be connected to what happened then... it could be.

Suppose that is when Armand told Louis the truth about Lestat. It is canon he lies to Louis about Lestat's fate, and there is this meeting in IWTV (with Lestat) that Louis describes, which Lestat later challenges as never have happened.

So if it is that meeting (true or not), what could Louis trigger to stop feeding on humans? To withdraw, into a shell, into a "coffin" of his own making? What is it that he found - or did not find.

I do not think Louis asked Armand to influence him - in the books it is canon that Louis tells Armand to never do that again (and Armand more or less promises but ignores that promise). I cannot see Louis asking for his mind to be fuddled with. The 70s were clearly about numbing the pain through second-hand drug usage, but then?

No, I think that maybe... Armand told Louis the truth and Louis went there, in high hopes of finding Lestat, and Lestat... was not there.

And Louis withdrew, maybe returned to Armand and asked him to find them a home somewhere remote and secure. He withdrew into his own sorrow, into a cage of his own making. Into his own depression. Negating the hunger, negating the feelings, negating the memory. Trying to reach for something that isn't there anymore, by forcing himself to eat food which doesn't taste, by being in constant danger of being incinerated if only someone forgets shading the windows.

The kill is the height of pleasure for them, an ecstasy they long for and despair over after all.

Negating that... it is (book) canon that Louis neglects his own hunger when he is hurting, when he is mourning. When he is guarding, too.

And Armand... I think Armand just tries to take care of him. In his own way. By that time Armand and Louis truly do love each other, though it is a different kind of love, not less, nor unimportant, but different.

So yes, I do think that comment will come back into play - in this show every line seems to count, and I bet we haven't seen all the parallels yet.

The time would fit, and if Lestat is underground(*) when Louis is searching for him... then Louis might think he will never find him. Who knows how long he was looking.

And of course the biggest revelations of Claudia's diaries will still come into play in Dubai, too.

Louis is mourning, imho. Bored by death, by his own words. Neglecting and negating the hunger. He is suffering, and Armand has already called the interview "chronicling a suicide".

Louis is preparing.

And the why... the why and everything connected to that will likely be what will push us into season 3 I bet^^.

(*) Underground or in the basement, in a coma, aka The Groan

[jadedaceofspades]

Listen, I’m not all that impressed by trendy food in most cases. But I really wanna try that Dubai Chocolate Bar on TikTok.

I saw it and I was bit turned off by it because the texture just looks like... hmm. BUT, pistachio flavored things taste delicious and mixed with chocolate??? If it wasn't so expensive, I would go for it.

[weather-mood]

Mini Fanfic Rec List: Louis and Hunger / Feeding Habits

For the Saint Louis of the Vieux Carré prompts ‘hunger’ and ‘feeding habits,’ I’ve put together a quick little selection of works focused on Louis and hunger/feeding!

the harrow, the tiller by @baberainbowao3 . Louis’s hungry first night as a vampire

hunger and (new!!) coalescence by @enterprisery . Louis and hunger and blood when it comes to Armand.

the first taste by @wordforworldisforest featuring the iconic moment of Louis eating the artist who does his portrait in Paris

Grouse by @iwtvdramacd18 set in Dubai and a fascinating look at Louis, food, and ritual

ii from i am in love with him (i gut him as i say it) by @vampdf featuring Louis and Armand in Paris

Roadkill by @nlbv and @baberainbowao3 in which Louis, Lestat, and Claudia navigate their respective feeding habits and inclinations.

[automedia-ae]

Food Videography With a Dubai Videographer

Make Your Food the Star with a Dubai Videographer

Dubai: a city that sparkles with luxury and excitement. And let's face it, your food deserves to shine just as bright. Imagine your delicious creations on screen, making people's mouths water. That's where a talented Dubai videographer comes in.

Food Videos: More Than Just Eye Candy

A great food video isn't just about making your dishes look good (though that's important!). It's about telling a story. It's about capturing the passion and care that goes into every plate. It's about making people crave your food so much they can almost taste it through the screen.

Finding Your Perfect Video Partner in Dubai

Choosing the right videographer in Dubai is like finding the perfect chef for your kitchen. You want someone who gets your vision, someone who can make your food look even better than it already does. A good videographer will bring fresh ideas, top-notch equipment, and a whole lot of creativity to the table.

Make a Lasting Impression with a Top Dubai Videographer

A top-notch videographer can transform your food business. Imagine your restaurant featured on people's social feeds, making them drool and eager to try your dishes. Or your food blog getting tons of likes and shares because your videos are just that good. It's not just about looking good; it's about connecting with people on a deeper level.

Food Photography: The Perfect Pair

While videos are amazing, let's not forget the power of a stunning food photo. A great picture can tell a story all on its own. It's like a snapshot of pure deliciousness. And when you combine it with a fantastic video, you've got a recipe for success.

Automedia: Your Dubai Food Video Experts

At Automedia, we're not just videographers; we're food lovers. We understand the magic that happens when great food meets great visuals. Our team in Dubai is passionate about creating videos that make your mouth water and your brand shine. Let's work together to make your food the star of the show.

So, are you ready to turn your food into a sensation? Let's chat!