#mealie meal

[dailynation]

Cushion Zambians against high fuel prices, Pule advises gov’t

HIGH indebtedness should not be an excuse for Government’s failure to cushion citizens against the high cost of living Christian Democratic Party (CDP) President Danny Pule has said. Dr Pule says the United States of America is one of the highly indebted countries in the world but does not abdicate its responsibilities of looking after its citizens even in times of economic slumps. Dr. Pule…

[stormbreaker101]

eaugh

[cuy-i-ruh]

akşama ders var, hoca bu dönem en az 3 sayfa kırık meal istiyorum dedi. gözler yaşlı 🥹🥹

[coolsnake]

There's no way god told Noah two put two mealy moths on the arc

[ikemenomegas]

Megumi is not good at cooking. Not the way that Tsumiki is. He remembers how she used to stretch their meager meals. To this day, he cannot perfectly recreate the warm kakitamajiru she'd made, powdered ginger, thin sliced scallion, white pepper. But she always could. She tells him there's no secret ingredient, but there has to be, if only that it's his sister's hands which made it.

That is not to say he cannot cook. He's good at following recipes. Gojo's more than once ruffled his hair in the morning, thanking him for the leftovers in the fridge (and despite his denial Gojo-san is picky). But it's never the same.

At first, you'd thought it was some weird, chauvinistic holdover and had been fully prepared to absolutely tear into Gojo about it. Megumi's a bit embarrassed about that (one of the few almost-fights he'd witnessed between the two of you), but he exhales softly as you wrap an arm around his shoulders, patting his hair as he leans against you in the kitchen.

You now think that it's funny, but it's also cute because when Megumi really wants to eat something that tastes better than mine, he'll do literally everything up to and including prep, and also dishes after.

He's young with time to learn, but it's considerate while also being sad. You do appreciate it, but before you all moved to campus, Megumi kept his own room tidy, made plenty of his own meals, avoided asking to do any kind of extracurricular which could cost you and Gojo either time or money. It was difficult to teach him to be a child and you'd never quite managed it with either Megumi or Tsumiki - both of them resistant to being taken care of, both of them too early acquainted with the reality that some people read care and saw burden.

Megumi leans against your shoulder as you stroke his hair, fluffy soft, a smile on your lips as you wait for a couple tomatoes to blanch.

You don't tell him he didn't have. You grin, remembering the adorable little growl he'd made last time. It's good to see him being a bit of a brat, comfortable with it.

"Thanks," you say instead, and he leans heavier for a second before standing straight, freeing your arm to dish out the tomatoes into a bowl. He even takes them to the sink, peeling the loosened skin, the mealy inner portion getting under his nails.

You are so grateful that Megumi has already sliced up the onions and put them in water just how you like them.

You're slicing the tomatoes into wedges, Megumi standing back at your shoulder like him watching you do this for the seventh time will finally give him the answer, when you start talking.

"You know, my mom used to make this for me. They've got a garden." Lots of people in the countryside have gardens. "And we got tons of tomatoes every year. And it doesn't matter how many times I make it. I think hers will always be better."

Megumi looks from your hands to your face and then slowly back again as you scrape the cut half up onto the flat of the knife and into a bowl and then start on a new one.

"She says the same thing about her parents' food," you smile. "Her dad's gyoza. She's very sure that filling is better than anything she ever made for us growing up."

The look on your face is so soft it makes Megumi's face warm and something comfortable-uncomfortable wanted-unwanted twist in his stomach.

You nudge him. "Save about a few slices for the salad?"

He nods and gets you another bowl to set the sliced tomato aside.

You set about putting together the rest of the meal while he trails behind. Blanching thinly sliced beef, pointing out what needed to be mixed for a gingery vinaigrette, stir frying tomatoes, eggs, onions, chicken, lotus roots, napa, noodles...

He mumbles an apology when his stomach growls as he's setting out two places. It's an awful lot of food for a night when Gojo-san isn't coming around, maybe he just had big eyes when he was pulling everything out.

You just laugh. "It's almost done. You can start, don't wait."

But he does, carrying plates from the counter to the table for you and giving you such a puppyish stare when you don't sit down fast enough it makes you abandon wiping down a spot of flour to pull off your apron an sit across from him.

"itadakimasu," he murmurs, politely pressing his palms together as you do the same.

He closes his eyes a little longer than necessary to savor.

"Yours still tastes better."

If you could reach him, you're pretty sure you'd be happily making his hair even more of a mess than it already is right now. There's a secret, complicated look on your face, although he's sure it's mostly happy. And in the end you just say,

"Thanks, Megumi."

"Mm," he replies, holding out his bowl as you offer him another spoonful of noodles.

[waterdeep-weavemoss]

You Know Better

Absolute filth for @amorgansgal, thank you for distracting me from my sadness with Gale being utterly unhinged... again. 18+ obviously. Little bit of pregnancy as body horror vibes.

'It can't be unlearned, I've known the warmth of your doorway, through the cold I'll find my way back to you.' - It Will Come Back, Hozier

Taglist:

@netherese0rb @boufsy @owlseeyoulaterpal @lanafofana

@auroraesmeraldarose @aryancunin @miradelletarot @marlowethebard

The world was saved again. There was nothing to do now but part ways; no camp to return to, no fireside to share, Tav followed her druid back to Moonhaven. Halsin threw himself into the rebuilding effort there, gathering the orphaned and the needy. He relished being a father figure, but Tav had never seen herself with that life. She helped where she could of course, but each night, as she lay beside him, her thoughts returned to the campfire. She pined for it, she realised. An adventure as thrilling as what had come before.

The first nights were dreamless sleep, her body too exhausted even to conjure memory. Halsin’s sleep was peaceful too, though she often woke to find him hard and was all too happy to accommodate a new routine. It was slow, at first. He seemed to want to take all of her in, savouring her moans and whimpers. She developed a taste for it, in truth. Though the days were boring, the mornings were worth it, the nights restorative.

‘Mummy, will you come with us to pick mushrooms?’ asked one of the older children on this particular bright morning. Halsin smirked, cocking his head at her.

‘Not today, love,’ she said gently. Her stomach dropped, anxiety and revulsion shuddering through her. ‘I’ll be back later, alright?’

She found herself taking to the risen road, toward Baldur’s Gate. She’d not said a word to the druid, shouldering her pack and a bedroll and setting off. She did not know where, or why. Only that she should. The first night on the trail, her thoughts turned to her companions: Karlach and Wyll in Avernus fighting demons, Lae’zel on dragonback, Astarion poring over tomes in the dark for a cure, Shadowheart finally free of Shar, embracing her Selunite legacy.

She did not think of him.

It was only as night fell that Tav realised what danger she was in; there was no-one to keep watch while she slept now. She would have to risk the kindness of strangers or the exposure of the open road. She found a cave, empty and spacious. Setting a fire going and warding the entrance against intrusion, she went through her provisions: there was a heel of bread, a mealy apple, half a wheel of cheese. She’d need to trade if she wanted a hot meal. She ate in miserable silence. The sound of gnolls in the distance unnerved her, accomplished as she was in manipulation of the Weave.

Her dreams were full of whispers. She was back at the Last Light, plunged into darkness. The lake was smooth and cold as glass, seeming to suck the dregs of moonlight into itself. She was kissing Halsin; it was a pleasant surprise to feel his weight above her, the strong, sure presence of him as his warm mouth pressed to her own.

‘Hi,’ she said, smiling up at him. ‘Sorry I just left…’

‘No matter, my heart,’ he said, pressing a kiss to her neck. ‘I know you’ll come back to me. The children miss you.’

Her stomach twisted. ‘Yes,’ she said, running her fingers through his hair. ‘I’ll be back soon.’ She knew it was a lie even as the words left her mouth. Even in a dream.

‘Have you thought more about it?’ he said sultrily into her ear. The slow roll of his hips against hers made her whine. She clutched his massive biceps, shivering under his heated gaze. He dropped his head, pressing open mouthed kisses to her belly. ‘Well?’

She knew what he was asking. Opening her mouth to answer, she suddenly jolted awake, taking great heaving breaths. She packed up quickly and returned to the road, putting more distance between her and the druid.

‘What a sweet dream,’ said a voice on the wind. She froze. It couldn’t be.

‘What?’ she whispered. No response. She kept moving. Tav was spooked; every little noise startled her, each glimpse of people on the horizon making her heart rise and sink. I should’ve hired a carriage or something, she thought. The next night, she bedded down in a small tavern. Grateful for a bowl of stew and good ale, she felt more restored than she had in weeks.

Laying in the dark little bedroom, she watched moonlight through the leaded windows. Her belly was full and pleasantly warm, her breathing slow and soft. In the half-light, a figure was outlined in the doorway, but was gone again by the time her eyes had adjusted. Just playing tricks, she thought.

Her dream that night took her to the Stormshore Tabernacle. It was night-time, empty and quiet. She cast knock on the door, slipped inside and locked it again, breathing in its sacred energy. Moonlight cut across the floor and illuminated the statue of Mystra. Beneath it, ankles crossed and perched on the plinth, was the man she’d been trying to ignore for months.

‘Hello, my love,’ he murmured. ‘Come here to me.’ Halsin’s words out of his mouth. Gale reached out, slender fingers beckoning her forward. ‘I’ve been waiting for you.’

‘We broke up,’ she said tersely, though her steps carried her to him all the same.

‘Hmm,’ he said, in that half amused, knowing way of his that infuriated her. ‘You’re adorable.’ He pushed off the plinth, hands behind his back. Though this was a dream, he seemed to have changed; his hair was pulled back, his eyes keener than before, his shoulders a little broader.

‘Gale,’ she said, for the first time in months. ‘It’s over.’

‘Of course,’ he said, hand over heart. ‘You must be flourishing. With Halsin throwing himself into his role as father, you can only be doing the same as mother to all those orphans…’ his eyes glittered. He knew her, better than anyone, knew he’d just described her nightmare. She pressed her lips together, fighting the urge to scratch his eyes out. ‘How long, do you think?’ He pressed a cool hand to her belly, stroking his thumb over the thin fabric of her elegant nightgown. ‘A few weeks? Months? Oh you must be aching for him to put a baby in your belly.’

‘Stop it,’ she snapped, reeling back.

‘Oh, but pressing your buttons is so fun,’ he said, catching her wrist. ‘Because you know as well as I do what you want.’

‘Is this really a dream?’ she asked suddenly.

‘In a manner of speaking.’ He shrugged. ‘A little astral projection.’

‘How do I make it stop?’

‘You don’t,’ he said lightly. He gestured to the statue of Mystra. ‘You know where I am.’

She woke gasping and scrambled to leave the inn as quickly as possible. The next day she made more progress, refusing to sleep. The day after that, even more progress, even as she began to feel faint. After collapsing into dreamless sleep the next night, one morning she shouldered her way through to Wyrm’s Crossing, stole through Wyrm’s Rock with its haunted ghosts, returned to the lower city. She knew where he was and would not give him the satisfaction of showing up in daylight. She wandered instead, visiting her old haunts. She thought about the cold of Cazador’s palace and shivered, hoping Astarion was alright now that it had burned down.

Night fell. It was not his voice that drew her, though she felt its memory winding around her heart. It was the darkness within him, cold and hungry, that pulled at her. As soon as she was inside the Tabernacle it was overwhelming, like being submerged in the midnight sea.

Mystra’s shrine was empty. He tricked me, she thought. Her vision went black, and she heard a bolt slide into place. ‘You came,’ he crooned into her ear, sending a dark little thrill through her. ‘Good girl.’ The dim light was restored as he ran his knuckles down over her ribs.

‘I shouldn’t be here,’ she said, her voice catching. The darkness she could feel enveloped her, squeezing at her heart and seeping into her lungs. ‘I need to go home.’

He came slowly into view, still touching her. His brown eyes were as soulful as she remembered, mouth plush and inviting even as it pulled into a self-satisfied smirk. ‘You are home,’ he said softly. You’re right, she thought but didn’t say. He seemed to sense he was right, anyway.

‘Halsin’s a good man,’ she said instead. ‘Better than you.’ She sought to wound him, dig her fingers in and make it bleed.

‘No doubt.’ His eyes burned. ‘You still came to me. You still shiver with desire when I touch you. If he’s so good,’ he spat the word, venomous, ‘why are you here?’

I made a mistake, she wanted to say. I need you. I want you. ‘Curiosity,’ she said instead.

‘A noble endeavour.’ He had decided to play her game. ‘Satisfy it then.’

They were in a holy place with the eyes of his goddess glaring down at them. ‘You don’t honestly think you’re in control, do you?’ she asked him, her own mouth smirking as he faltered. He licked his lips, eyes glowing out of the dark like some cornered beast. ‘Take off your clothes.’ She knew he itched to tear hers off instead, but he obeyed.

He moved slowly, watching for the subtle signs of her own want. The way she swallowed hard, bit down on her lower lip. She leaned against Mystra’s shrine, knuckles white with the effort of keeping her hands to herself. The darkness inside him purred. He stood naked before her, out of reach.

Tav would not break first. He’d come crawling on his hands and knees to her if she had any say in it. She pressed back into the stone, like she could shrink further from him. I shouldn’t do this. I shouldn’t.

You should, crashed his own thought into her mind. She squeezed her eyes shut. As if that would keep him out. My love, he went on, his voice in her ear as though he weren’t across from her. Let me in. Tav opened her eyes.

He stroked himself, there in full view of his goddess, of the other deities on their plinths, silent. The sight was so profane she could hardly believe he had the audacity to do it, here of all places. Any shyness he’d once had had vanished, clearly. ‘I didn’t say you could,’ she croaked. He stopped, took one prowling step forward.

‘I am at your command,’ he said into the dark. His words were contrite, but his eyes bored into her soul.

Fuck, she thought. I can’t take this anymore. She did not move. She didn’t even speak. He approached, knelt slowly before her. Slowly, she nodded.

With surprising speed and strength, he pulled her towards him. His hands clawed insistently at her unmarked flesh, a snarl leaving his throat as her clothes became an obstacle to what he wanted. She cried out as he sucked bruises into her inner thighs, lapped at the heat between her legs, dragged his teeth across her flesh. Her hands tangled in his hair, pulling to draw bestial sounds from his throat as he devoured her. She came quickly and her legs buckled but he caught her before she fell, overwhelming her senses as he pushed his tongue between her teeth and dragged his nails down her spine. Her mind was a fog of his scent and taste and then he was inside her, pressing her up against the statue of his goddess and laughing darkly as she choked out his name over and over and over, a prayer all its own. She whimpered when he pulled out of her to come on the stone.

‘Tav,’ he panted, pulling her to him again and palming her breast. ‘You’re never leaving me again. Ever.’

‘Never,’ she hissed as he pushed her back against the wall. ‘Now shut the fuck up and do it again.’

[copperbadge]

There is one good place to get a hot meal in all of Austin-Bergstrom airport, and it's Thurman's Old Fashioned Burger. It's bizarre but they do consistently have the best wedge fries I've ever eaten. Normally I dislike wedge fries because usually they're mealy and acrid and dense, but whatever they do to theirs (I think probably parboiling prior to batter-frying) they're super fluffy inside and crisp outside. These fries are so good I gave them a cameo in an upcoming novel.

It's perplexing because Thurman's is just a little airport-only offshoot of Salt Lick BBQ, an Austin restaurant that also has a food stand in the airport which produces the saddest, soggiest "barbecue" I've ever eaten. Supposedly Salt Lick is THE barbecue to get in metro Austin, but...not the one at the airport, that's for sure.

(If you want spectacular barbecue and are willing to travel for it, go outside of Austin to Pig Pen. Get whatever meat you want, it's all delicious, but as long as you eat pork make sure you also get a pint of the Baked Potato Salad. It's warm German-style potato salad made with drippings from the bbq pork.)

Anyway, at Thurman's you can get a quarter pound burger and wedge fries for seven bucks and aside from the fact that being in ABIA means I'm headed home to Chicago, it's the best part of the whole goddamn airport.

[ID: A photograph of the edge of a quarter-pound hamburger in a brioche bun, flanked by large wedge potato fries crusted in seasoning; one of them has been broken open and the fluffy white interior of the wedge is visible.]

[sajirah]

The Prison Chapter Two

Gifts and Introductions

Guess what guys! You get chapter two several days ahead of schedule because I'm a crazy person! Hurray! Once again, you can read it here or on AO3.

-o0o-

Feyre awoke to the face of death. 

Or rather, she awoke to a dead rabbit staring her in the face. But it might as well been the same thing with the way she reacted, screeching and smashing her head against the rocky overhang in her haste to put distance between her and the corpse. 

Where the hell had this come from? Had a rabbit just wandered into her burrow and…died?

She stared, pondering this conundrum before realizing she was…warm. There was a blanket over her lap. A blanket she most definitely did not have the night before. And now that she looked closer there were several other things piled beside the dead rabbit. 

A lighter. A pile of sticks. And was that…a knife?

…What the hell?

She looked around frantically. Did someone…leave this all for her? But who? Why?! Better yet, why would they bring her all this stuff and just…leave? She couldn’t imagine anyone handing over a bunch of items necessary for survival (in a place where they were worth more than gold) unless they expected something in return. And of course there was only one thing a man on a deserted island would want from her. And yet no one was around to collect on such a trade. She hadn’t seen a single soul since her disastrous run in with the welcoming committee on the beach. 

Her stomach growled. 

She hadn’t eaten anything since early yesterday morning and her body was making its displeasure known. Though she’d certainly gone longer without food before she also knew it was only a matter of time before she wouldn’t have enough energy to look for her meals. And at that point she would be as good as dead. 

Feyre stared at the rabbit and saw herself reflected in its glassy black eyes. Well…it’s not like she hadn’t eaten worse. Much worse. She could still taste the moldy crust of bread and mealy apple core she’d once filched from the trash when her family’s finances were at their most dire. 

She reached for the lighter. 

At least she wouldn’t have to build a fire the hard way. 

-o0o-

She should’ve known. 

Feyre was just finishing up her breakfast when she heard a twig snap behind her. Quick as a snake she snatched up her knife and spun towards the intruder. 

A man stood at the edge of her little camp, hands quickly raised at the sight of her knife. He was old, ragged and worn, but his eyes were clever. Steely. This was not someone she could let her guard down around. 

“I saw the smoke,” he said slowly. “From your fire.”

Feyre could smack herself for being so stupid. Of course he saw the smoke. Of course he came looking, thinking whoever built it might be easy pickings. Clearly her hunger had made her stupid. She couldn’t afford to make mistakes. Not here. 

“I was just curious,” the man continued. “Nobody comes out here you see. You must be new. I’ve never seen you before.”

“Arrived yesterday,” she admitted, though only because it seemed to be written all over her with her idiotic fire building and her mostly new prison uniform that hadn’t been worn down to threads like everyone else’s. The man’s own uniform was barely recognizable, patched with a mishmash of other fabrics. Of course where he had found other fabrics she had no idea. 

“That would explain a lot.”

She grimaced. “Are you saying you eat your food raw?”

The man laughed. It was so sudden and so surprising that she nearly dropped her knife. 

“No, I meant because you were this far into the forest. Of course we cook our food. We’re not animals.” The man paused, as if considering. “Well, most of us aren’t anyway.”

She stared. “What do you mean ‘no one comes this far into the forest’? Isn’t this where all the food is?”

The man was quiet for a moment, then suddenly he began to fold himself onto the ground with all the accompanied grumbling and groaning you’d expect from someone past middle age. Feyre’s grip on her knife tightened but the man just waved her off. 

“I’m too old to be having these conversations standing for so long. Keep standing if you like but I might as well get comfortable while I explain some things.”

“Explain some things?” Feyre repeated dumbly. 

“Oh yes.” The stranger said cheerily. “You see, we have some rules around here. Like Timber Town is neutral ground-”

“There’s a town here?!” She interrupted, confused. “I thought this was a deserted island full of criminals?”

“Oh it is. But it wasn’t always. It used to be a waypoint for ships to resupply on the way to the mainland back in the 18th century. There’s still a few towns and houses scattered around the island from that time, though we really only use Timber Town.”

Well that didn’t make any sense. If there were multiple towns with houses full of things to scavenge why would everyone only stick to one of them? Feyre said as much to the man and he gave her a strange look. 

“Because Timber Town is on the shoreline.”

“What does that have to do with anything? It seems like such a waste to just leave everything beyond the beach untouched.”

“Because this forest is haunted.”

Feyre blinked. 

“Haunted.” She said skeptically. 

The stranger nodded sagely, as if this weren’t the most ridiculous thing she had ever heard. 

“Listen, girl,” he said, deathly serious. “There is something in these woods. Something evil. Every night, when the sun goes down, things get very strange on this island. Animals go feral. Men go insane. Some go to take a leak at the edge of the forest at night and wake up the next morning on the other side of the island. I’ve watched men who were as good as brothers slit their friend’s throat in the night.”

It sounded like he was telling her a ghost story but the man looked too haunted by his own words to be spinning her a tall tale. 

“I don’t know why this place was abandoned, nor why it was repurposed as a prison. But I can guess. We are not the predators on this island. It is. Whatever it is it hunts us. Toys with us. We are merely its playthings. And I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that our government is well aware of this. Like a tiger living in your house. You keep it fed and happy and docile because the moment it gets hungry, your throat will be the first it comes for. So they keep a steady supply of victims, people no one will miss, and they dump them on this island hoping it will keep the thing in the woods too busy to look their way.”

“You’re crazy.” Feyre said, not quite believing her own words. Because she had felt something last night. Like a whisper in her ear that she couldn’t quite catch. And where had her gifts come from? No other prisoner in their right mind would’ve just dropped off such valuable things and left her unmolested. 

“Oh, undoubtedly.” The man said with a bitter laugh. “I have lived here too long not to at least a little crazy. But that doesn’t mean what I say isn’t true. Stay in the forest if you like. It very well might be the safest place for a woman here. But when the night comes, I promise you, you will see why the rest of us stay out of the forest’s shadow.” 

And with that he got up, joints creaking loudly, and he nodded at her not unkindly. 

And then he left. 

-o0o-

She sat there for a while afterwards, mulling over the strange man’s story. 

Suppose it was all true though, what then? It’s not like she could just wander the beaches like all the rest of the prisoners. She was, as far as she was aware, the only woman on this island. If she left the forest she was essentially offering herself up on a silver platter. And while Feyre was plenty self sacrificial when it came to her family, she drew the line at putting herself at risk of being raped any more than she already was. Better to keep seeking refuge in the forest since everyone else seemed to think it was cursed…or something. 

Or maybe it was all just an elaborate lie dreamed up by a mad man to fuck with her and lead her right where he wanted her? Who was to say really. 

She knew one thing for sure though, she couldn’t stay here. If the last man found her so easily from her campfire then it was only a matter of time before others showed up. She needed to find a new camp. And quickly. 

Feyre stared in the direction the man had disappeared, presumably back towards the beach…then behind her deeper into the forest. She felt a strange tugging at her heart and rubbed at it absently. 

Well…it’s not like she had ever believed in ghosts anyway. 

Decision made, she put out her fire with a few handfuls of dirt and packed up her sorry little camp. Not that there was all that much to pack. She stuffed the knife into her belt, tucked the lighter into her pocket, and rolled the blanket up and stuffed it under her arm. 

There. All packed. 

With one last glance back towards the beach, Feyre began walking very determinedly in the other direction. 

-o0o-

She had been walking for only a few hours when she stumbled across it quite by accident. 

It was almost completely covered in ivy and most of the roof had collapsed, but even so…it was a house. One of the very same houses the strange man had told her about. 

Finally!

Real shelter! She wouldn’t have to sleep in the mud with only a rock to protect her from the elements. She buzzed around the little house excitedly, taking stock of everything she could. A few of the ceiling beams were still intact and all of the walls were still fairly solid save for a rather large hole towards the back. But still…a house was a house. 

She spent the rest of the day clearing a space inside for herself, cutting back brambles with her knife and setting aside whatever furniture she could find that was still in one piece. By the time the sun began to go down she was exhausted but content, huddled in the corner of the house to settle in for the night. 

Let the stupid ghost come, if it was even real. It would have to fight her for her home. She wouldn’t give it up without a fight. 

And it was with that thought that she drifted off to sleep. 

-o0o-

She was home. 

Well, her childhood home anyway. The one her family had lived in before her mother died. Before her father’s business had gone belly up like so many others during the depression. Before her sister had seen the need to sell herself to a monster to pull her family out of poverty. 

She wandered through the sitting room, everything still as she remembered it as a child. The velvet sofa, the oriental rug with the coffee stain on it from when she’d tried to sneak a sip of her father’s coffee (their housekeeper never had quite managed the get it out), and the record player crooning The Andrews Sisters. 

You’re really swell, I have to admit you

Deserve expressions that really fit you

And so I’ve wracked my brain, hoping to explain

All the things that you do to me.

Wait.

She let the familiar words drift into her ears as she stared at the record player, puzzled. She hadn’t even heard this song until after her family had long moved out of this house. So how…?

“Apologies,” a dark voice said, in amusement. 

Feyre jumped, whirling around in surprise only to see an unfamiliar man lounging indolently on the sofa. A sofa that had very much been empty only moments before. He was young and handsome, tanned and dark haired with a strong jaw and strange glittering eyes. And his clothes were…odd. Like the music it seemed out of time and place, closer to what she remembered of the fantasy comics she’d borrowed from her friends at school rather than the usual suit and fedora worn by the men of her era. 

“I created this place from your fondest memories. I should have realized some of them wouldn’t quite fit together.” 

If anything that only confused her more. 

“Who…?” She trailed off. 

The man smirked, as if he were in on a joke she had missed. 

“How rude of me, we haven’t even introduced ourselves have we? You may call me Rhys if you like. And what’s your name darling?”

Feyre’s years of etiquette kicked in before she could stop herself. “Feyre Archeron.”

“Feyre,” Rhys rolled her name over his tongue like a gift. “What a pleasure it is to finally meet you.”

“Finally?” She latched onto that single word, puzzled. 

“Oh yes,” he said. “I’ve been waiting for you for a very long time.”

“I…I don’t understand.” She really didn’t. 

“Did you like my gifts?”

The words threw her for a loop again. She felt like every time she was starting to get a grasp of understanding what was happening it slipped away from her again. Like a dream…

“Gifts?” She repeated. She felt a spark of recognition but then felt it flit away again. 

“I admit, they were rather paltry offerings, but I’m afraid my options were rather limited in this place,” the man said with a sigh. “You deserve better. The best. Gold and diamonds. Spiced wine. Suckling pig and saffron rice. A feather bed.” 

His words lulled her, painting a picture of the luxury and comfort she did not currently have. 

Wait.

She did have those things…didn’t she? Feyre glanced around at her sitting room with its modern comforts and amenities. The best things money could buy. And yet…it didn’t fit. She was missing something. 

Like a dream…

And then it struck her, like a bolt of lightning. The murder of her brother-in-law, her trial, the marine’s words to her before he threw her into the ocean, her confrontation on the beach, but most importantly…

“There is something in these woods. Something evil.”

The man on the sofa went still. As if he’d somehow heard her thoughts. As if…

Feyre’s eyes widened in realization. 

“It’s you.”

And then she woke up. 

[cognitivejustice]

The Midlands Trashion Show 2024, held during Plastic Free July, served as a reminder of the pervasive issue of single-use plastic pollution. This year, 130 students demonstrated their creativity and commitment to sustainability by re-purposing discarded plastic into remarkable fashion statements.

Charlene Chinembiri, inspired by videos posted online, created an ensemble from a feed bag and wool, assisted by her fashion-enthusiast sister.

Thandoluhle Khumalo, from Lions River, turned mealie meal bags from her school feeding programme into a dress with her mother's help, showcasing the potential of everyday waste.

Standout creations included Naledi Duma's party dress, Hannah Zunckel's intricate bodice made of metal ring pulls with a CD skirt, and Alwonde Mpangase's pleated frock.

Laila Gangerdine captured the title of Trashion Queen with a detailed dress and headdress made from card and plastic, while Emihle Sithole's layered newspaper skirt earned her the Pompom Princess title.

Dineo Hlatswayo's checkerboard dress, which required her to rise at 4am to travel from the Drakensberg, was awarded a prize for its elegance.

Boys also made a significant impact at the event, with Thokozani Makhaye in his pink rapper outfit and Zekhethelo Dlamini's astronaut costume drawing attention. The wire car category saw Kiara Hansraj win for her neatly finished, spray-painted vehicle, Zanokuhle Sithole for the best suspension, and Lukhona Sishi for the best overall design.

Prizes for winners in various categories were practical items promoting environmental care, such as bamboo toothbrushes, wooden combs, and washable menstrual products. These eco-friendly alternatives highlight the need for sustainable choices to reduce plastic waste.

[dailynation]

Stakeholders predict hard times after high fuel price hike

By NATION REPORTER STAKEHOLDERS say the sharp upward adjustment in the fuel pump prices will negatively affect the social economic sectors of the country with the resultant effect of harder times. Zambia Consumer Association of Zambia Executive Director Juba Sakala says the current fuel increment is a huge blow to consumers especially that the country is already grappling with the depreciation…

[regulatedstrawberry]

Reaching New Heights : A Tails Adventure - Chapter 11

Thanks for waiting! Newest chapter of my Tails fic is finally ready. Feel free to read it below the cut, or through the link! This chapter features a warning for animal violence.

Summary:

“When this is all over… I think I need to go it alone for a while. I can’t grow into my full potential if I always fall back on you.” Tails decides to embark on his own journey, without Sonic. Amy goes on the girls trip of her dreams, with Cream and Sticks. Sonic receives a surprise visit from the future. Takes place after the main storyline events of Sonic Frontiers.

Rating: T Words: 29k+ Chapters: 12/?

Tails took a hearty bite of the last of his apple, unfazed by its mealy texture. It was the next morning, and, decidedly, his last morning at this crash site. He had slept with his new device cradled next to him, anxiously awaiting his opportunity to get back to civilization, fantasizing about the luxuries of life: a hot meal, a hot shower, and a warm, cozy bed.

Tails set the apple core neatly on the ground, trying to shake off the guilt with the fact that it wasn’t quite littering – it was composting. He stood up and stretched his arms high, feeling the sun warming his face. He was filled with a vigor he hadn’t had in a while, decidedly optimistic about his expedition. 

He glanced over at the Jaguar, who had already devoured its morning meal - the catch of the day from the river. It laid on the ground unbothered, while attentively licking its paw, reaching every crevice.

“I’m going to pack my bag, and then we’ll head out!” Tails called out, before walking to his duffel bag and bending down in front of it.

The bag was lighter than before, the fresh fruits and some other food having been devoured these past few days. Rummaging through, he took note of everything inside: notebook, toolkit, remaining rations, sweater, homemade radio device with a magic gem inside, and of course, his blaster gun.

Carefully, Tails picked up the blaster and held it, the sleek white metal cool in his hand. He definitely had more powerful weapons back at the lab, but this one was light and compact, ideal for traveling. He opened the panel at the side to check the battery - only 10 percent charged, to his dismay. Maybe there was a way to charge it, if he had enough parts to sort through. It would be good to have.

“Ah!”

A nudge against his back interrupted his thoughts. Jumping slightly, he turned to see the Jaguar beside him, rubbing its head against Tails’ shoulder. 

Tails laughed a little, surprised at the sudden affection, but decidedly welcoming it. He lived with Sonic long enough to know the many, many ways to say ‘hurry up’. 

“Okay, okay,” he chuckled lightly, closing the blaster panel and stuffing it back in the duffel bag. “I’m ready.” 

Tails zipped the bag and stood, before looking at the Jaguar’s hind leg, noticing the absence of the gauze around it. He wasn’t sure if it came off naturally, or was removed in a fit of annoyance. A scar had formed, and the large jungle cat was walking well, with only a slight limp. 

Tails stopped, and looked over his shoulder one last time. The remains of the Tornado laid there in a heap, with the red paint worn from the metal plates. Days ago, the fateful crash during the storm felt like the end of his journey. He’d spent countless hours in the hangar building and modifying it, making sure the yoke and its controls fit like a glove on his hand.

Now, he had accepted its fate. It served its purpose, and gave him the tools to finally begin his adventure. 

With a wistful sigh, Tails turned around, and continued to follow the Jaguar into the forest.

—

Tower EG-5013: 12.3 miles away.

Satisfied, Tails breathed in relief. He flipped the switch off on his device, and nodded, looking over at his companion. “Okay, pretty sure we’re on the right track now.”

It had taken over an hour to really find the right direction, using the handheld satellite as a ‘hot and cold’ box. The two had traveled through the dense forest in almost a large circle, something that initially made Tails more anxious as he became more disoriented from the crash site. But now, he was finally getting consistently closer readings to a cell tower, or tv station, or something that could at least lead to a road, and eventually, a city.

Tails observed the Jaguar looking around rather focused, its ears perked up. He never expected a response, but he’d been around his companion long enough to tell whether they were relaxed or not. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Tails asked. 

His question went unacknowledged. The Jaguar was now crouching perfectly still, its ears flattening back in alert. 

Uneasy, Tails’ eyes darted across the thick jungle foliage, listening carefully for any rustling or sudden movement. After a moment, their suspicions were confirmed - a faint rustling of leaves to the left. 

The yellow fur on his neck was standing on end. His legs were glued to the ground, trying to catch even the tiniest sound of whatever was nearby while ignoring the sound of his shaky breath. Every second that passed felt longer than the last, with the air growing thicker in suspense. The longer they waited, the more unsure he was about whether to reach for his duffel bag, and find his weapon.

And yet, there was no time to react. 

Before he could even gasp, something shot out of the bush behind him, the weight slamming Tails at full force in the chest. The homemade satellite fell out of his hands as he slammed against the dirt. Large, spotted paws pinned his chest to the ground. 

Tails couldn’t hear the growls and commotion around him. Instead, he was wide eyed, mouth hanging open as he stared down his attacker in the face: another jaguar. He wanted to scream as the predator snarled, baring its sharp, menacing teeth at him, but he realized he couldn’t breathe. Only a whimper escaped his lips, and the predator roared, teeth unhinged straight for his face. 

It dawned on the young fox that this was probably the last thing he’d see: the jaws of an animal, before it ate his face off. Tails clenched his eyes shut and braced himself, his only prayer being for his end to be a fast one.

Tails heard another roar, and quickly, felt the weight of the predator’s paws off of his chest. He breathed in sharply as if it was the first time he’d felt air, and rolled over to his side. 

He looked over to see the Jaguar, with its scar on its rear, fighting off the predator. The large cats swatted and growled at each other with clawed paws, their large bodies rolling against the jungle floor. 

The sound of metal clattering took Tails’ attention, and he quickly looked back over his shoulder. Of course, the predator had brought a friend, another jaguar who had found its way into Tails’ duffel bag. It was preoccupied with destroying the bag, making sure all of his tools, items, and food were sprawled on the ground. Before he could lament about his belongings, his eyes settled on the blaster gun on the ground, just within his reach. 

Quickly, Tails clawed the dirt beside him to reach for the blaster, turning it on swiftly with muscle memory. He closed an eye and aimed at the two brawling jungle cats. His hand was sweating, trying to identify friend from foe as they wrestled each other. 

He saw the familiar scar of his companion on the back of its leg, and saw the predator bite down into the Jaguar’s neck. The Jaguar yowled in pain, as their coat began to stain red.

Tails pulled the trigger. 

A blast of energy knocked the predator down, off of the Jaguar. The predator growled in pain, laying on its side, as the Jaguar turned to look back at Tails.  

Tails almost sighed in relief, until the Jaguar began to run towards him. Startled, Tails stepped to the side and turned around to see what had his friend on edge. Of course, the other predator that had destroyed his bag was making a beeline for him while he had been distracted. 

Tails raised his blaster again, quickly aiming at the other predator barreling towards him, and pulled the trigger. 

Only this time, nothing came out.

“What?”

Tails clicked the trigger again, then again, before realizing that he had used his remaining shot.

“No, no no no no no…”

Tails could only plead in vain, his heart pounding in his chest. He watched in horror as the Jaguar came to his defense yet again, blocking the remaining predator from even reaching him. Another brawl emerged, the two jungle cats growling and clawing at each other viciously.

Before Tails could even think of what to do, however, he heard a low, gravelly snarl from behind. 

Of course, his one shot from earlier, that had taken down the first predator, wasn’t debilitating enough. The wounded predator had gotten up, and was eyeing Tails with hungry eyes. It was prepared to use whatever remaining strength it had to exercise its revenge on the young fox.

At this moment, he realized he was out of options.

His one weapon was out, and he wasn’t exactly equipped with quills to take out his foes with a spin dash. 

As a last resort, Tails looked back at his valiant companion for help. His stomach dropped, eyes widening in shock. “No!”

He saw the Jaguar laying on the ground, at the mercy of the other predator. His new friend was alive, but barely. Now it was just him, and two large cats, who were hungrily waiting to pounce at his throat.

In the next moment, the young fox acted with instinct, and regretted every second of it. 

Tails spotted his handheld satellite on the ground, and made a mad dash towards it. He grabbed it and held it tight to his chest, before jumping into a hover. 

And then, he flew as fast as he could, deeper and deeper into the thick of the jungle.

—

Peace and quiet. Just how he liked it.

Laying down, Knuckles rested his hands behind his head and closed his eyes, atop the stone of the Master Emerald’s pedestal. He had memorized the feeling of the floor against his back, with the gentle glow of the Master Emerald against him. Of all the places on Angel Island, his serene home nestled among the clouds, there was no other place like it.

Being the guardian of this relic was a job at the end of the day, a preservation of his people’s history. He took it seriously, and any time spent away from Angel Island left him with a lingering anxiety. So to say he was glad to be back in the humdrum of his life’s purpose, unbothered by the goings on of the world below, was an understatement. At least, until it became his problem. 

A cool breeze washed over him, and he sighed, shifting his arms beside him. He was enjoying his nap. He’d been taking a lot of those since he got back. 

Another breeze came, feeling cooler than the last. Knuckles shifted his body, feeling the cool air on his legs and chest. He wasn’t sure if he’d felt that correctly, or maybe it was a one-off thing. Unbothered, he adjusted himself, resuming his siesta.

Then came the next breeze. 

Rather, a gust of cold wind; it made all the hair on his body stand on end, whistling against his ears. Knuckles’ whole body stiffened, almost moving to hug himself as his eyes snapped open in surprise.

Quickly, the Echidna moved to stand up, completely alert, as he frantically looked at his surroundings. For a moment, he thought he was rudely transported to another location, so he almost sighed in relief when he saw the Master Emerald next to him. 

Another frigid gust of wind blew through him, and he hugged himself tightly. As he tucked his chin down, bracing from the cold, he noticed a few tiny, white specks fall in front of him. It occurred to him that the Island looked darker than usual, the golden rays of sun absent from its lush green terrain.

He looked up. It was just a dark, cloudy sky, with the beginnings of snow traveling down to the ground. 

A confused expression formed on Knuckles’ face, completely taken aback by the weather. Eggman, he would expect. Or aliens, really. But…

“Snow?” Knuckles asked, growing increasingly suspicious, as he braced himself for another gust of wind.

His red brows knit together in deep concern. The power of the Master Emerald regulated the island, keeping its green base locked in an eternal springtime. 

It never snowed on Angel Island.

The only exception to this was the summits of the island’s mountains, their tall peaks capped with a layer of ice. But suffice it to say, this was a puzzling weather anomaly. 

Knuckles breathed out, and saw a puff of white air leave in front of him. The temperature was dropping, and fast. With this, a new problem dawned upon him. His eyes widened.

“The Chao.”

The Chao were the other residents of Angel Island, playful and sweet in nature. While he mainly kept to himself, he had an amicable relationship with them, sometimes helping them when they had trouble reaching whatever object caught their attention. While he didn’t always understand their childlike wonder, he felt some form of responsibility to them, mainly by keeping the island and the Master Emerald safe. 

Knuckles was quick to jump into action, immediately jumping into flight and soaring through the frigid island. He scanned the area as he flew, taking note of any trees or plants they usually stayed around. 

Angel Island was an appropriate habitat for the Chao, not only because of the lack of predators, but also because of the controlled climate. That is, until now.

As he soared through the air, his eyes caught sight of a trio of Chao, colorful bodies huddled together for warmth. The Echidna landed quickly in front of them, kneeling down to look at their round, miserable faces. Their eyes were large and helpless, as they looked up at the guardian. 

“You guys okay?” He asked with concern, extending a hand out.

A strong, frigid gust of wind blew through them, and the Chao decided it was too unbearable for them alone. Without warning, they squeaked and flew towards the Echidna, pressing their faces against his chest for warmth.

“Ah– Hey!” Knuckles stumbled back at the surprise attack, until realizing it wasn’t an attack at all: they were just cold and shivering. 

With a sigh, Knuckles pet their heads awkwardly, resigned to the situation. He wasn’t really a touchy-feely kind of guy, but they were cold. He could feel himself getting colder too, now that he wasn’t flying. 

“We gotta look for the others,” Knuckles said, stepping back to meet the three Chao in the eye. “Will you help me get everyone together?” 

The three Chao exchanged looks between each other, before facing Knuckles again. They smiled and cheered, determination in their faces as they fluttered about. 

Knuckles smiled a bit, and nodded in confirmation. “Great. Let’s do this.”

—

Knuckles’ feet hit the floor of the Master Emerald’s stone pedestal, with the sound of a soft crunch. There was a thin layer of snow, no more than an inch thick, covering the pedestal. Oddly enough, there was an empty ring in the immediate area around the Master Emerald; with no snow around or on top of its large facets.

He was followed by a band of around thirty Chao, who had all flown as a unit together, relying on each other for warmth. They weren’t as chatty as usual, their squeaks and hums hushed with worry. It didn’t take long to find them, as many of them were already seeking out the Echidna’s protection in the first place. 

Knuckles sighed heavily, and sat down on the ground, cringing slightly at the feeling of cold snow on his bottom. He was feeling drowsy, but whatever chill he felt was now replaced with an inner warmth. He had the Chao together, but he needed a moment before he could continue figuring out what to do next. 

The Chao hovered expectantly around him, looking at their guardian with worry. They whispered to each other, before making their way closer and closer to the Echidna.

“What— hmph.” Knuckles grunted in disapproval, but again, resigned to their affection. He was, effectively, covered in a blanket of Chao, as they all huddled around his body for warmth. He almost couldn’t complain about it, considering the cold, except for the fact that they were touching him. 

The Echidna closed his eyes, drawing a long breath. He’d just take a minute to collect himself. 

“Long time no see,” said a familiar voice.

Knuckles opened his eyes and looked up to see Rouge the Bat, floating down to the ground gracefully, with that typical cheeky, knowing expression on her face.

“Rouge.” Knuckles wasn’t upset at her presence, but not exactly enthralled, either. The bat visited every so often, with an agenda to fawn over the Master Emerald, and bug Knuckles while she was at it. Admittedly, he didn’t mind her company, and actually grew used to it – or rather, just accepted that she was going to show up whether he liked it or not. 

“I dropped by a few days ago, but nobody was home,” Rouge shrugged. “Didn’t realize you were babysitting.”

“Tch,” Knuckles scowled, feeling rather undignified beneath the pile of cold Chao. He quickly stood up, gently brushing the Chao off of him, so he could speak to Rouge properly. “What are you doing here?” 

Rouge wasn’t planning on answering that question. As the wind blew, the bat cloaked herself in her wings, and shivered. “Brr, didn’t know I’d need a jacket,” she commented, inconvenienced.

The pod of Chao squeaked, their tiny, trembling bodies burrowing into each other for warmth. Knuckles bit through the cold as the wind hit him again, but this time, not feeling so bothered by it. “Something’s wrong with my island. It’s not supposed to snow up here.” He paused and looked over at the large, green gem, situated within the stone pedestal. “But I didn’t sense anything wrong with the Master Emerald. How did this happen?” 

Rouge caught the worried expression on Knuckles’ face. She was well aware of how seriously he took his duty, simultaneously annoyed and intrigued at his insistence on keeping the gem on its weathered stone pedestal. He didn’t talk much about himself if it wasn’t related to his tribe’s history, or its relic. 

But another, strong gust of wind sent the snow against her, feeling like small knives cutting into her skin. She wasn’t interested in sticking around any longer, at least not without a coat. Knuckles had been toughing it out for a while in this weather– at this point, he was going to get sick, whether he wanted to believe it or not.

“We gotta go, Knuckles,” She said urgently, a serious expression on her face. “At this rate, it’s gonna be a blizzard.”

Knuckles folded his arms over his chest, looking at Rouge with a displeased expression. “If you can’t handle a little wind, you can go. But I’m not leaving my island until I get to the bottom of this.”

“The Chao are freezing, Knuckles,” She rebutted firmly, gesturing to the shivering, helpless pod of Chao. “They can’t stay here. You’re about to get hypothermia,” she said pointedly, noting how he seemed unaffected by the cold. “If something happens to you, then who’s gonna protect the Master Emerald?” 

Knuckles scowled at the blow to his ego, knowing she was right. His mind was racing through all the possibilities that his people’s prized possession, his purpose, could be stolen right from beneath him. He wanted to argue that he’d be strong enough to fight through the cold, to devote every ounce of himself to protecting the emerald. It was his duty, after all. 

But when he turned to look at the Chao, freezing and helpless amongst themselves, the guilt hit him in a final, decisive blow. He had a duty to protect this island, and those that lived on it. 

Scowling, Knuckles hung his head in defeat, before turning to face the shivering bat in front of him. “Fine,” he said quietly, his voice deep. 

He’d leave, if only to help evacuate the Chao, and grab a winter coat while he’s at it. But he wouldn’t rest until he got to the bottom of this.

[artemis-the-starling]

First post! Meet Artemis the Starling!

-

Hi! I'm Artemis Fowl! I was saved by my human mommy on April 28th 2023! She found me struggling in a puddle during a storm, and I was very cold and dehydrated. My human mommy brought me inside and I liked her so much for saving my life, I imprinted on her! I'm only about 6 weeks old now, and I grow in some more adult stars every day. I listen to my mommy's words so when I'm all grown up, I can mimic her speech and technology! My favourite things are live mealie wormies, gold jewelry, and bath time!

Check me out the first day mommy found me!

Not looking too great, huh? No worries! This is me now!

Aren't I cute?! 😉

Well, if you like me as much as I like meal worms, be sure to follow me for more pictures and updates! Here's my mom's post about why she kept me and why I'm non-releasable!

*All tips go directly into Artemis' care and needs.*

[autizta]

I'm so sure you being a whiny mealy mouthed do nothing but be a bitch on tumblr is REALLy helping anything or anyone too.

whats mealy, like full of meals, do i get meals, i want meals

[metalpetalartist]

I need to remember Tumbler is a real thing more often.

I want to start loredumping about my own world I've been working on recently, and I am starting with plants. This tough plant grows a contemptible vegetable known as the Liverbulb. The Liverbulb is edible on technicality, but it's the type of food that makes you dread your next meal. Regardless, with how hardy the plant is and how much food is provided by the sizable bulb, it has its uses in some far out reaches of the world where food isn't always guaranteed.

Here is the text from the image:

"The Liverbulb is a vegetable that exists seemingly out of spite. The plant that produces the vegetable can barely support the weight of it, and has evolved to fight against the massive bulb. The plant is notable for being tolerant to a wide range of temperatures, and can even be submerged fully underwater for weeks at a time with no ill effects on the health of the plant. Its hardiness gives it a use as a reliable food source in some places.

The stem that holds the bulb is barely able to support the weight of it, sagging far down the plant. The stem is capable of repairing itself overtime.

When ripe, the bulb takes on a pinkish-red color and is relatively easy to remove from the stem. The shape of the bulb is similar to a liver, which gives it the name of Liverbulb.

The main shoot of the plant is extremely tough, being resistant to bending to support the bulb. The shoot itself is strong enough to be used as a building material.

The inside of the bulb somehow manages to be even less appealing than the exterior. The bulb has a tough but thin skin, and the "meat" inside is mealy and grainy. It has an extremely bland taste and terrible texture. As a result of this, the Liverbulb is not a popular food, and is most often used as a filler with more savory ingredients."

Since I don't have a proper name for this world as of yet, I am simply going to refer to it as the Rafflesia Canon until I can think of one.

[goddamn-grammar-blog]

Warning: snake feeding

Fed everyone but Viper last night. Keeva, I think, is in shed, so she refused her meal. I used to panic when she wouldn't eat, back in the Year in Hell, but now she's a normal snake who not-eats for normal snake reasons!

Also, 2023 has been the year of bioactive pests. Gnats, slugs, scales, and now mealy bugs.

Yes, Mesa's ponytail palm just randomly started showing signs of mealy bugs. No new plants, etc.

I started squishing them, using alcohol dipped q-tips, and today I took it out, power rinsed it, soaked it in some soapy water, took out the surrounding soil and leaf litter in the enclosure, cleaned off the plant, trimmed leaves and roots and replanted it with fresh soil and leaf litter.

We'll see.

[psalacanthea]

🍛

From this ask here!

Thank you so much for sending this! Also for entertaining my idiotic questions about what the hell that emoji is. (it is so teeny tiny to me and there's so many questions!)

🍛 CURRY AND RICE — what does your oc's typical dinner look like? do they usually eat dinner?

my Tav Zynatheri- Everyone else's dinner time is her breakfast, being both drow and a bard. Her actual dinner, her fourth meal of the day, is right before reverie (or sleeping if she has nothing better to do) around ten in the morning. It's usually either mild and unexciting like some bread and jerky, or if she's not traveling and someone else is cooking, she likes a pastry or stuffed bun of any type.

Something she can eat with one hand while scribbling away at music.

As for my Durge, Belladonna, probably plain bread, raw meat or lightly cooked fish, uncooked vegetables, and the occasional mealy apple to make sure things don't get too exciting. Food can't be for pleasure because pleasure is distracting. And when she gets distracted she easily loses control.

And then people start dying, which makes carrying out her plans a little...difficult.

A lot of her bullshit drives Gortash insane (which he deserves), but her eating habits make him Suffer. Except the part where she eats a small part of everyone she kills. That he finds endearing.