#pear and cheese pairing

[vmantras]

Honey-Roasted Pear Tart: A Quick Delight

Preparation Time: 20 minutesCooking Time: 25 minutesServings: 6Skill Level: Intermediate Introduction This Honey-Roasted Pear and Goat Cheese Tart is a perfect blend of sweet and savory flavors, encased in a buttery, flaky pastry. Ideal for brunch, appetizers, or a sophisticated dessert, it��s a show-stopping dish that’s simple to prepare yet elegant enough to impress. Ingredients For the…

[fuckingrecipes]

Do you have any healthy snack suggestions for someone who isn't a huge fan of nuts and dried fruit?

FIRST: A 'Snack' is just a small portion of food. It is a signifier of quantity. 'Snack' does not exclude any type or form of food - it just means a lil' bit of food.

SECOND: "Healthy" is entirely relative to every individual.

'Healthy' is just 'Supportive of a complete nutritional profile, taking into account a person's existing diet, dietary needs, and habits of energy expenditure'

For example:

A small, greasy hamburger is an EXCELLENT snack for a highschool athlete who needs to consume an large amount of calories every day to maintain their body. It has lots of fat and protein for muscle recovery and long-term energy, carbs for immediate energy, and some lettuce/tomato/onion for some extra fiber/vitamins/minerals.

On the flip side, if someone already eats a fair amount of of meat and carbs already but has a lower-energy lifestyle, a healthy snack for them might entail leafy greens, beans/legumes and vegetables, because they need more fiber and nutrients in their diet that plants have in abundance.

--

If you are allergic to or hate eating something, then it's not healthy to force yourself to eat it anyway. Find a different food, or a different way to prepare it that doesn't cause physical or psychological distress!

Don't like peanuts, but peanut butter is good? Eat peanut butter instead! Hate the texture of whole tomatoes, but tomato sauce is good? Eat tomato sauce instead!

Don't be afraid to finely mince or blend your ingredients into a sauce or smoothie if you feel you need or want to eat something for the nutrients but hate chewing it.

--

I'm a big fan of probiotic stuff in general, like fermented foods (kimchi, pickles, sauerkraut, miso, mustard and yogurts), since a strong bacterial colony in the gut has a positive impact on wellbeing for most folks. More importantly, I love the taste.

Buuuuuuuut~ some people are extra sensitive to compounds that are concentrated in fermented foods. Those people should not eat a lot of fermented foods. It's not healthy for them.

--

If you're munching snacks out of boredom when you're not actually hungry, something low-fat but satisfyingly crunchy usually does the trick for me. Something I can keep devouring for the sensory delight, gives some good nutrients, and won't make me feel overly full afterward.

Carrots, bell peppers, mung bean sprouts, apples, pears, jicama, radish, pretzels, sweet onions, green papaya, broccoli, popcorn, cucumber, water chestnut, seaweed crisps, coconut chips, any of those fermented foods I mentioned... hell, coleslaw is mostly cabbage with oil and vinegar - plow through that and have a great time!

--

If you want a snack because you're hungry, but you just want to tide yourself over until the next meal, eat something that is high in fat and fiber. Fat & Fiber makes you feel full.

Cheese, Yogurt, Butter. Olive oil. Guacamole. Tinned fish. Cream. Fry up an egg. Olives, Hard-boiled eggs - These are all relatively high in fat.

Beans, Legumes, Oats, Leafy Greens, and most Berries are pretty high in fiber, and can pair up with any of the fatty things.

Hell, a slice of cheese pizza is also fine! Buttered toast is fine! A small portion of roast beef from last night's dinner!

Eat a little bit, wait 20 minutes, and see if you're still hungry after that. A normal stomach takes 20-30 minutes to register feeling satiated. (Some people's stomachs don't really feel the difference of hunger vs satiation. Those people need to be more mindful of the quantities of food they eat - both eating too much, AND eating too little!)

--

If you want a snack because salty snacks in particular sound fucking amazing, but other fatty and high-protein foods sound kinda gross, Try chugging a glass of water.

If water doesn't resolve the feeling after giving it a few minutes, try something with salt.

Dehydration and not having enough salt in your body both cause salt cravings. Acute thirst is often mistaken as hunger.

Honestly, you can have a handful of chips. Eating a whole family-sized bag of potato chips in one sitting is probably too much salt & fat for most people, but eating a handful here and there is fine. It's just as morally neutral as eating a carrot.

Eat some rice with soy sauce. Eat some pickled okra, or pickled onions. Eat some miso soup. Drink some soup broth. Have some salt-cured meats.

--

So: A Healthy Snack!

Ask yourself: Am I hungry, bored, or thirsty?

Ask yourself: What have I been eating lately, and what has my diet lacked, or had in excess? (Fats, Protein, Carbohydrates, Vitamins/Minerals, Water, Salt)

Ask yourself: Am I trying to provide my body with a complete nutritional profile, including fats and carbs - or am I focusing on an imagined 'purity' of food and assigning moral value to eating what diet culture calls healthy so I can be 'good.' (Aka: Do you think instances of eating candy or fatty food is 'being bad'? Stop that.)

Ask yourself: Am I able to rely on my body's signals for hunger and thirst, or do I need to manually track this?

Sometimes a snack is a small portion of leftovers from yesterday.

Sometimes a snack is carefully sliced, cooked, and arranged on a cute plate.

Sometimes a snack is gnawing through half a head of cabbage doused in vinegar.

Sometimes a snack is a handful of shredded cheese eaten from your own palm so you become both the gentle horse and the stablehand feeding it, and that's all okay

[onlybeeewrites]

Angel Eyes

Request: Hello I would like to request a Coriolanus Snow x fem! Reader! I see that you also do starwars and it had me thinking. How would Coriolanus do if either your his tribute or a mentor or his wife? and a little kid came up to the reader and asked her if she was an Angel?

Pairing: Coriolanus Snow x Fem!Reader

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: classism, mentions of malnutrition/malnourishment, Coryo’s manipulation, slight diversion from canon for fic sake

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The Capitol Zoo was unusually quiet that morning, as if the city itself was holding its breath in anticipation of the Games. The sky above was pale and washed-out, making the enclosures seem more like cages.

You walked slowly beside Coriolanus, your fingers brushing together before he finally gave in and laced his with yours. It was one of the few soft things about him—this quiet affection when no one was watching.

Well, when he thought no one was watching, at least.

His eyes were locked on the girl in the District 12 enclosure, her bright dress muted by the grim bars and stale air. Lucy Gray stood with her chin tilted high, a performer through and through, even in captivity.

You both watched her for a few moments—Coryo calculating, curious, captivated. You, quieter, unsure how to feel about the girl who smiled like she knew secrets.

“She’s different,” you murmured, your eyes trialing her up and down.

“She’s dangerous,” he replied. But there was something like admiration in his voice. Though you weren’t threatened by it.

After all, she was the one behind the bars; you weren’t.

You nodded once, then gently tugged his hand. “Come on. I want to see mine.”

Your tribute was a girl of only twelve, a slip of a thing with tangled hair and limbs too thin for her frame. She was tucked in a corner of the enclosure, knees pulled to her chest like she was trying to disappear.

You reached into the elegant satchel slung over your shoulder, the one your mother insisted matched your family’s station.

“A Tolston never leaves the house looking anything less than exceptional.” Was what your mother had always said to you.

The Tolstons were old money. Old, influential, and perpetually seated at the Capitol’s highest tables, with your father’s name on every infrastructure committee and your mother curating the Capitol’s most exclusive fashion exhibits.

You weren’t supposed to cry about the Games. You weren’t supposed to feel things for tributes. But it was different now that you were in charge of taking care of one, to try and help your tribute to win.

So here you were, with wrapped honeyed bread, pear slices and soft cheese tucked between embroidered linen napkins. A large fancy ‘T’ stitched into it.

“Hi,” you said gently. “This is for you.”

She blinked up at you, wide-eyed, hesitant. Then slowly, carefully, she stood and crept over, taking the bundle like it might vanish if she moved too quickly. Her fingers brushed yours, feather-light, and you smiled.

She stared at the food, then at you. And then she said, in a small, wonder-filled voice

The little girl stood on the other side of the bars, hay in her hair while she stood in the dirt. The food you had passed was clutched tight in her small hands like she was afraid someone would take it back.

“Are you an angel?” she asked, voice breathy, eyes too big for her thin face.

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

She nodded seriously, stepping a little closer. “An angel. My mama used to talk about them all the time. She said they were the most beautiful creatures in the world. That they come when you’re really scared. When you’re about to give up.”

Your heart twisted. “Oh, sweetheart…” you crouched lower so you were more at her level. “No. I’m not an angel. I’m just…” You hesitated, glancing at the food in her hands. “I’m someone who thinks you shouldn’t be hungry. Just someone who is looking after you,”

She frowned thoughtfully, tilting her head like a curious bird. “You look like one. Your voice is soft. Like my mama’s was.”

Behind you, the soft buzz of a camera lens adjusted, zooming in. You could feel the eyes of the Capitol watching—Lucky Flickerman’s commentary somewhere off to the side, smooth as ever.

“Your name is Lina, right?” you asked gently.

“Lina,” she said with a nod, “Lina Grove,”

“Lina Grove,” you repeated, giving her a small smile. “That’s a beautiful name. Mine’s—”

“I know,” she interrupted, suddenly shy. “They said your name on the screen when we got here. You’re the pretty girl that walks with the white-haired boy.”

You choked on a surprised laugh. “The white-haired boy?”

Coriolanus, who’d remained behind you but close, let out a breath that sounded suspiciously like a scoff. His fingers tightened around yours—possessive, protective. “Charming,” he muttered under his breath.

Lina giggled.

“You’re funny,” she said to you. “And you smell nice. Not like the rest of this place.”

You leaned in conspiratorially. “That’s because I carry soap in my bag. Want me to sneak you some tomorrow?”

Her eyes lit up like you’d promised her a crown or the most sparkly jewels on earth.

“Really?” she whispered. “Even just to smell it?”

“Promise.”

She hugged the food to her chest like it was a lifeline. “Do angels make promises?”

You hesitated, just for a second. “Only the good ones, I suppose,”

Lucky’s voice rang out from somewhere behind the camera. “And there you have it, folks—our mentors are shining this year! Capitol hearts everywhere are absolutely melting.”

You stood slowly, wiping your hands on your skirt. Lina backed up a step but kept her eyes on you, like she wasn’t ready to let you go just yet.

“Will you come back tomorrow?” she asked hopefully.

You gave her a nod. “Every day until the Games.”

She bit her lip. “Even after?”

Something in your chest fractured. And unfamiliar ache.

“I’ll try,” you whispered. “I’ll do everything I can, I promise,”

Coriolanus stepped closer, slipping his arm around your waist, his voice low beside your ear. “You’re going to make it very hard for them to forget her.”

You didn’t answer. Just watched as Lina sat back down with her food next to her district partner; an older boy maybe around 16. And, for the first time, looked like a child again.

And for a split moment you felt guilt. 

    · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The gravel path shimmered faintly beneath your shoes as you and Coriolanus walked away from the enclosure. The buzz of cameras had finally died down, Lucky Flickerman’s voice trailing off into some other scripted sentiment. 

The air felt heavier now, quieter. As if your lungs were remembering how to breathe again the further you got away from it all.

You glanced back once—just once—toward where Lina now slept in one part of the zoo’s enclosure.

“She’s so little,” you said, more to yourself than him. “Twelve. She still has baby teeth, Coryo.”

His hand tightened on yours. Just a bit. Just enough. Though you didn’t see it, there was a small shift in the boy you loved so much.

“She’s a tribute,” he said, like it was supposed to explain everything. So simple. How could it be that simple?

“I know,” you murmured. “It’s just—” You hesitated, chewing the inside of your cheek. “She called me an angel.”

“She’s scared. They all are.” His voice was soft but sure, like velvet hiding steel. “And you gave her exactly what she needed in that moment. Comfort. That’s not a bad thing, my love,”

You nodded slowly, but something still stirred beneath your ribs. Not outrage—nothing so dramatic. Just a quiet ache. A tug of something soft and uncertain.

He stopped walking, gently pulling you to a halt beside him. You looked up at him, and the Capitol haze made his blond hair shine almost silver. Stunning. He was absolutely stunning.

“I know it’s hard,” he said, brushing your hair from your face with careful fingers. “But we don’t get to be soft right now. Not when everything we want is within reach.”

You blinked up at him, uncertain.

He leaned closer, voice dropping like it was a secret meant only for you.

“We’re doing this for a reason. You and me. The mentor who make it out of this with winning tributes—our lives change. We move forward. Higher. We don’t get stuck in the mud like the rest of them. The Games are there for a reason. To keep the districts in line. But now they’re also the one place we get to prove ourselves.”

You swallowed, your chest tightening. Your eyes never leaving his, not once.

He slid his hand to your cheek. “You want a future, don’t you? Not just for her. For us.”

Your throat bobbed. “I do. Of course, I do, Coryo,”

He smiled then—slow, warm, like sunlight cutting through clouds.

“Then we play the game, my angel,” he said softly. “And we win it.”

Something about the way he said we made your pulse flutter. As if your names were already written into the Capitol’s future. As if this moment, however sharp around the edges, was only the beginning.

Like everything was already promised, and all you needed to do was just grab it.

You exhaled slowly, letting the guilt drift back into the shadows. He was right. He always had a way of being right. And you were grateful he was there to bring you back to common sense.

“I hate when you talk like that,” you whispered, lips curving into a reluctant smile.

“Why?” he teased.

“Because you always make me believe it.”

His grin widened, all charm and quiet power. He kissed the back of your hand, elegant and practiced. “Good.”

The two of you then continued down the path—two golden children of the Capitol, walking the road toward something both of you could only hope for; while Coryo was determined to grab.

A life he deserved, with plenty of money, power, and the Angel of the Captial at his side.

[satellite-evans]

Look at the stars

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x reader

Summary: Benedict and his Y/N spend a joyful day picnicking and stargazing with their children <3

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: tooth aching fluff

A/N:

This was a request from @pear-1206 , I hope I did your request justice, love xx

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, recommendations, vents or questions are always welcome. I love talking to you guys about anything <3

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

The sun was warm and golden, casting a gentle glow over the lush countryside. The air was filled with the sweet scent of blooming flowers and the sound of birds chirping merrily. It was the perfect day for a picnic, and Benedict Bridgerton couldn't have been happier to spend it with his wife and children.

Benedict and Y/N had always shared a mutual disdain for the relentless scrutiny of society. From the moment they met, they found solace in each other's company, both preferring the quiet beauty of nature and the simplicity of family life over the pomp and circumstance of high society. Benedict was hopelessly devoted to Y/N, captivated by her spirit and the way she saw the world. She had a way of grounding him, reminding him of what truly mattered.

Today, they had chosen a secluded spot in the picturesque countryside of Kent, a place far enough from their estate to ensure complete privacy. Nestled under the shade of an ancient oak tree, the spot offered a breathtaking view of rolling hills and a gently flowing brook nearby. The grassy field stretched out before them, a sea of wildflowers swaying in the breeze. Their children, a boisterous five-year-old boy named Thomas and a giggling two-year-old girl named Violet, were already darting about, chasing butterflies and exploring the wonders of nature.

"Thomas, be careful!" Y/N called out, laughing as their son sprinted after a particularly fast butterfly, his little legs pumping furiously. He stumbled over a small mound of earth but quickly picked himself up, his laughter ringing out across the field. He waved back at his parents with a wide grin, dirt smudging his cheeks.

She turned to Benedict, her eyes sparkling with joy and a hint of motherly concern. "He's going to wear himself out before we've even unpacked the basket."

Benedict smiled, his heart swelling with love as he watched his family. "Let him. It's good for him to have space to run and play." He set down the picnic basket and spread out the blanket, patting the spot next to him. "Come, love. Sit with me."

Y/N joined him, resting her head on his shoulder as they unpacked the basket together. They had prepared all of their favorite foods: fresh sandwiches with a variety of fillings, ripe strawberries, an assortment of cheeses and crackers, a freshly baked loaf of bread, and, of course, a bottle of fine wine. Benedict carefully laid out each item, ensuring everything was in easy reach for their little picnic.

"I can't believe you managed to pack all of our favorites," Y/N said, smiling as she unwrapped a loaf of bread still warm from the oven. "It's like you read my mind."

Benedict chuckled, leaning in to kiss her temple. "I had a little help from our cook, but I wanted today to be perfect for you and the children."

Violet toddled over, her tiny hands reaching for a strawberry, and Benedict handed one to her, laughing as she eagerly bit into it, the juice dribbling down her chin. "Delicious, isn't it, my sweet?" he asked, wiping her chin with a napkin.

Violet nodded, her eyes wide with delight. "More, Papa!" she demanded, holding out her hand for another strawberry.

Benedict obliged, giving her another juicy berry. "Here you go, darling. Enjoy."

Thomas ran back to the blanket, breathless from his adventures. "Mama, Papa, look!" He opened his little fist to reveal a handful of wildflowers. "I picked these for you, Mama."

Y/N's eyes softened as she took the flowers from Thomas. "They're beautiful, Thomas. Thank you." She arranged them into a small bouquet and placed them in a little jar they had brought along. "They add the perfect touch to our picnic."

Thomas grinned, proud of his contribution. "Can we eat now, Papa? I'm starving!"

Benedict laughed, ruffling Thomas's hair. "Of course, my boy. Let's see what we have here." He handed Thomas a sandwich, watching as his son eagerly took a bite.

Y/N began to serve the cheese and crackers, arranging them on a plate. "This cheese is from that little shop in town, isn't it?" she asked, recognizing the distinct aroma.

"Indeed it is," Benedict replied. "I know how much you like it."

She smiled warmly at him. "You always remember the little things."

As they ate, they talked and laughed, sharing stories and memories. Y/N recounted a humorous incident from their last family outing, making Benedict chuckle. "I still can't believe you managed to get us lost in our own backyard," she teased.

Benedict shook his head, a mock expression of horror on his face. "I maintain that it was all part of the adventure."

Thomas piped up, his mouth full of sandwich. "Papa, are we going to play tag later? I want to show you how fast I can run!"

Benedict nodded, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Absolutely. But be warned, Thomas, I’ve been practicing my tag skills. You might not be able to catch me."

Thomas giggled, clearly relishing the challenge. "We'll see about that!"

Violet, not wanting to be left out, clapped her hands and babbled excitedly. "Tag! Tag!"

Y/N laughed, her heart full. "Looks like you have two little competitors, Benedict."

After they finished eating, they played a spirited game of tag. Benedict and Y/N took turns chasing the children, their laughter echoing across the field. Thomas was a blur of motion, his little legs pumping as he dodged and weaved, while Violet toddled around, giggling whenever someone pretended to catch her.

As the sun began to set, casting a warm, golden hue over the landscape, they gathered up their things and made their way back home. After a quick supper and baths for the children, they all headed outside again, this time with a blanket and pillows to lie on as they stargazed.

Benedict carried a sleepy Violet in one arm and a basket with their essentials in the other. "Do you think the stars are brighter tonight, or is it just me?" he mused aloud, looking up at the clear night sky.

Y/N smiled, holding Thomas's hand as he skipped alongside her. "Maybe they're shining just for us," she replied, her voice filled with contentment.

The night sky was clear, a tapestry of stars twinkling above them. They spread out the blanket on the grassy hill behind their home, arranging the pillows for comfort. Thomas immediately lay down, pointing up at the sky with excitement.

"Look, Papa! I see the Big Dipper!" he exclaimed, his small finger tracing the constellation.

Benedict chuckled, lying down next to him. "That's right, Thomas. And do you see that bright star over there? That's the North Star. Sailors used to navigate by it."

Thomas's eyes widened with fascination. "Did they use wishing stones too, Papa?"

Y/N laughed, settling Violet in her lap. "I think they relied more on maps and compasses, love. But a wishing stone could come in handy in a pinch."

Violet, still clutching her pebble, looked up at the sky with wide eyes. "Stars! Pretty!"

Benedict pointed out another constellation, his voice a soothing rumble in the stillness of the night. "There's Orion," he said, tracing the shape with his finger. "And over there is the Great Bear."

Thomas stared up in wonder, his small hand clutching the wishing stone. "Can I make my wish now, Papa?"

Benedict nodded, his eyes meeting Y/N's. "Go ahead, son."

Thomas closed his eyes, whispering his wish softly. When he finished, he placed the stone on his chest and sighed contentedly. "Your turn, Mama."

Y/N closed her eyes, holding Benedict's hand as she made her wish. She opened her eyes and smiled at him, her heart full. "Your turn, my love."

Benedict took the stone, closing his eyes. He didn't need to wish for anything; everything he had ever wanted was right here with him. But for the sake of tradition, he made a wish anyway: for endless days like this, filled with love and laughter.

Thomas squirmed, curious. "What did you wish for, Papa?"

Benedict grinned, ruffling his son's hair. "If I told you, it wouldn't come true, would it?"

Thomas pouted playfully. "That's not fair! I bet you wished for more wishing stones."

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. "Knowing your father, he probably wished for more of your mama's cooking."

Violet clapped her hands, clearly enjoying the banter. "Wish! Wish!"

Benedict leaned over to Y/N, his voice low and filled with warmth. "I actually wished for moments like this to last forever."

She rested her head on his shoulder, her voice soft. "I love you, Benedict Bridgerton."

He kissed her forehead, his heart overflowing with happiness. "And I love you, Y/N Bridgerton. Always."

Thomas, ever the inquisitive one, looked between his parents. "Does that mean you wished for more picnics and stargazing, Papa?"

Benedict chuckled. "Something like that, Thomas. I wished for more time with my favorite people."

Thomas grinned, satisfied with that answer. "I like that wish."

Under the vast, starlit sky, surrounded by the warmth of their family, they knew they had everything they could ever need. It was a perfect ending to a perfect day, and as they drifted off to sleep, they dreamed of many more days just like this. The gentle sounds of the night filled the air, and the stars above seemed to shine a little brighter, as if in agreement with Benedict's silent wish.

[reverieshifts]

𝒂 𝒅𝒂𝒚 𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒚 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆: 𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒌𝒇𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒔

𝒆𝒍𝒐𝒅𝒊𝒂 𝒅𝒓

𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒚 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒎𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒖𝒑 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒎𝒚 𝒈𝒖𝒂𝒓𝒅

When I finally step out into the corridor, the palace is bathed in that soft, golden quiet that lingers just after sunrise. The marble beneath my slippers is cool, and the stained glass windows along the hall scatter pale color across the floors—lavender, rose, and soft golds that match the early light. Waiting just outside my door, as always, is Soren. He leans against the wall, arms loosely crossed, one boot scuffed up against the marble, looking only half-awake. His hair is still slightly damp from a rushed wash, and there's a crease on his collar that suggests he either dressed in a hurry or simply didn’t care. He straightens when he sees me, blinking once, then twice, as if trying to decide whether to be impressed or annoyed that I look so put together before breakfast.

I offer a bright, far-too-cheerful greeting—something deliberately sunny, just to provoke him—and it works. He groans softly, mutters something about “unnatural morning people,” and falls into step beside me as we begin down the corridor. The teasing starts immediately. He makes a sarcastic comment about the shimmer of my dress, something about blinding him before he’s had a proper cup of tea, and I return fire with a remark about his perpetually rumpled state. There’s no real bite to it—just the familiar rhythm of banter, the kind that makes the day feel lighter. As we walk, our footsteps fall into easy sync, the palace slowly waking around us.

𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒌𝒇𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒈𝒐𝒍𝒅𝒆𝒏 𝒉𝒂𝒍𝒍

The walk to the Golden Hall is a short one, and by the time we arrive, the sunlight has fully poured into the space through the tall arched windows, bathing the room in soft, honeyed light. The walls, painted in a pale, buttery gold and trimmed with delicate floral moldings, seem to glow from within. Unlike the grand banquet halls or formal salons scattered throughout the palace, this room is intimate—elegant, yes, but made for comfort rather than spectacle. It’s where my family gathers when there’s no court to impress, no guests to entertain—just us.

The long table gleams beneath the morning light, already set with a luxurious array of breakfast dishes. Everything smells warm and spiced—flaky pastries filled with chocolate and cream, stacks of delicate crepes dusted with powdered sugar, soft cheeses paired with roasted nuts and dried berries, and fresh bread still warm from the ovens. Crystal bowls of fruit glisten like gems—pomegranate seeds, lustrea berries, golden pears—and several carafes are filled with chilled juices or steaming enchanted teas that warm to the perfect temperature the moment they touch your lips.

Nikolai is already seated when I enter, casually lounging with one arm thrown over the back of his chair, mid-story about something ridiculous that happened during the morning drills. His plate is overflowing, and he’s still reaching for more. Across from him, Alana listens with her usual amused grace, a perfectly raised brow and a half-smile curving at the corners of her mouth as she sips her tea. My mother sits at the head of the table, gently reminding Nikolai to slow down between bites, while my father hides a grin behind his napkin and offers me a fond nod as I take my seat beside him.

The conversation flows easily—light teasing, family updates, a bit of harmless gossip. Alana makes a remark about a noble’s unfortunate choice of hat at last night’s recital. Nikolai tries to reenact the wobbling way one of the younger guards fainted during sparring. It’s soft and familiar, a rare kind of peace that feels like it belongs only to us.

Soren hovers nearby, ever the dutiful knight, though I know he hates standing still this early in the morning. He lingers by one of the sideboards, and when he thinks no one’s looking, he snatches a sugar-dusted strawberry tart off a silver platter with practiced ease. I catch him in the act, of course. I always do. But instead of calling him out, I take a slow sip of my tea and arch a brow in silent amusement. He catches my eye, gives the most unrepentant shrug I’ve ever seen, and takes a bite as if daring me to say something.

I don’t. Not this time, at least.

𝒂 𝒘𝒂𝒍𝒌 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒈𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒆𝒏𝒔

After breakfast, I slip away from the Golden Hall and head toward the gardens, letting the soft hush of the palace corridors give way to birdsong and breeze. The garden paths wind gently beneath trellises heavy with morning glories and pale-petaled climbing roses. Stone arches veined with ivy cast dappled shadows across the walkway, and the scent of wild jasmine and honeysuckle drifts lazily on the air. The world here feels quieter, slower. Time doesn’t stop, but it softens.

I move slowly, letting my fingertips skim the petals as I pass, the magic in my blood humming faintly in response to the living world around me. The flowers lean slightly in my direction, brushing against my hands and skirts with almost affectionate intent. Butterflies flit lazily between blossoms, and I pause to watch a pair of whimlings curled up on a sun-warmed bench, their long, fluffy tails twitching as they nap in the light. The breeze carries the distant sound of fountains and rustling leaves, and far above, I can hear the faint cry of a warbird circling high overhead.

Soren trails a few steps behind, quieter now. He never hovers—he knows better than that—but I can feel his presence all the same, steady and familiar. I let the silence stretch between us. It’s a comfortable thing. Neither of us has to fill it.

I take the long route, weaving through the orchard path where the trees bloom year-round thanks to the old enchantments rooted beneath the soil. A few petals drift down from the branches overhead, catching in my hair and wings. I don’t brush them away.

Some mornings are meant to be simple. Unrushed. This is one of them.

𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒕 𝒆𝒕𝒊𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚 𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒔

Eventually, the peaceful lull of the gardens must give way to duty. I take my time getting there—walking slowly, pausing once or twice under the pretense of admiring a hedge formation I’ve seen a hundred times before—but Lilian finds me anyway, with a knowing smile and a reminder that I’m already two minutes behind schedule.

My first lesson of the day is Elodian history and court etiquette—a combination carefully designed to test both my patience and posture. It takes place in one of the smaller study rooms tucked away in the east wing of the library, a chamber filled with velvet-cushioned chairs, gilded scrollwork, and far too many portraits of former nobles looking disapprovingly down from the walls.

Lady Merivelle, my instructor, is already waiting. She greets me with a polite smile and a knowing arch of the brow, as if she knows I would rather be anywhere else. And she's completely correct. I settle into my seat, trying to look attentive as she launches into a recounting of the Aurelian Accords and their impact on trade diplomacy. It’s interesting, on paper, but her delivery is dry as parchment. I resist the urge to rest my chin on my hand.

Soren stands by the door like a statue, arms crossed, expression unreadable. But I know better. He hates these lessons even more than I do. At least I get to sit. He has to stand there and listen to all of it, day after day, without so much as a footstool or distraction. I catch him zoning out more than once, eyes glazed as Lady Merivelle drones on about the precise angle of a formal curtsy.

When she brings up the difference between a bow offered to a trade envoy versus a highborn diplomat, I glance back at Soren just in time to see him mouth something I’m sure would get him dismissed if anyone else had noticed. I stifle a laugh and refocus just in time to answer a question about old border treaties. Barely.

𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒄 𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒔

My next lesson is one I don’t have to be dragged to.

The moment etiquette ends, I’m on my feet—books still half-open, notes forgotten, the hem of my gown brushing chairs as I make my way down the winding corridor toward the old solarium-turned-classroom at the western wing of the palace. The room is a patchwork of old stone and creeping ivy, with high ceilings and glass walls that let the sunlight pour in. Or… they did. One window is still missing, shattered in spectacular fashion during last week’s lesson when a spell meant to coax a sprouting vine got a little overenthusiastic and nearly took out the entire frame.

I try not to dwell on that.

My magic comes easily. Too easily, sometimes. It lives just beneath my skin—bright and restless and alive. When I call on it, the world responds. Plants bloom at a glance, light bends around me if I let it, animals seem to understand me before I speak. But control? That part doesn’t come as naturally. My tutor, Master Ilharen, says my gift is powerful, yes—but undisciplined. Raw. Like an untrained instrument that plays itself louder than it should.

Still, I enjoy it. I love the feeling of it humming through my hands, the way the air shifts when I shape it, how the garden vines ripple toward me like they know me. Today’s lesson focuses on focus and restraint—channeling energy into precise spells rather than letting it spill in every direction. I try. I really do. But the potted carnation we’re practicing on nearly doubles in size before I manage to rein it in.

Soren, once again posted near the door, does not look reassured. He sidesteps a leafy tendril as it brushes past him like it has a mind of its own. Which, knowing my magic, it probably does.

Ilharen doesn’t even flinch anymore. He just sighs and gestures for me to try again.

𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒃𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈

By the time my final lesson rolls around, the sun has climbed high and the palace air is warm with the scent of sun-heated stone and distant wildflowers. I trade my slippers for leather boots and shrug into a training tunic—lightweight, sleeveless, and stitched to accommodate wings without getting in the way. Then it’s down to the southern edge of the palace grounds, where the forest presses close and the training fields lie nestled between the trees.

Combat training is, surprisingly, one of the most exhilarating parts of my day. I’ll never be built for swordplay—not with my frame, and certainly not with how cumbersome a blade feels in my hands. But a bow? A bow fits. Clean, precise, elegant.

Captain Cain is already waiting near the edge of the training arena, arms crossed, expression unreadable as always. He gives me a single nod when I arrive, then jerks his head toward the tree line where the real training takes place. I don’t need further instruction—I’ve done this enough times now to know exactly what’s expected. Soren lounges nearby, leaning against a tree with one of his usual smug expressions. He’s not technically part of this lesson, but that’s never stopped him from offering plenty of unsolicited advice, most of which actually sounds helpful—until I realize it’s laced with sarcasm.

Today’s course isn’t simple target practice. I’ve long since outgrown shooting at stationary straw dummies from twenty paces. Instead, enchanted targets wait deeper in the woods—animated constructs that don’t just stand there, but dodge, weave, and move unpredictably. Some charge. Others scatter the moment they sense movement. The forest itself is thick with undergrowth, branches, and shifting light, which means I can’t rely on a clear shot. I have to move, climb, and fly—darting between trees, wings half-flared for balance, arrows already drawn before I even spot my next target.

It’s fast. Demanding. And I love every second of it.

I launch into the trees, heart quickening, muscles alive with anticipation. I can hear one of the targets crashing through the brush below—low and heavy, designed to mimic a charging opponent—while another zips past overhead like a phantom. I twist midair, loose two arrows in quick succession, and drop back to the ground with my wings tucked tight to avoid a branch. The first shot misses. The second lands. There’s a sharp clang of contact and a flicker of light as the spell within the target shatters.

Behind me, I hear Soren whistle—low and impressed—though I’m sure he’ll still have something smug to say the moment I return. Captain Cain, of course, says nothing at all. But I can see the smallest flicker of a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. And that’s enough.

𝒂𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒏𝒐𝒐𝒏 𝒓𝒊𝒅𝒆

After combat training, the last thing I want is to go back inside and sit through paperwork or planning or yet another round of diplomatic lessons. My body’s still humming with energy, and the weather is too perfect to waste indoors—clear skies, golden light, a faint breeze weaving through my feathers. So instead of heading back toward the palace, I break away from the training grounds and take the winding gravel path that leads up toward the stables.

Soren falls into step beside me, casting a curious glance that quickly turns into something knowing. He doesn’t ask where I’m going. He already knows.

But before we even make it halfway there, Lilian appears—fluttering down from one of the upper balconies with her usual uncanny sense for where I’ll be. She lands gracefully in front of us, holding a covered basket wrapped in linen, and doesn’t even bother directing her gaze at me. Instead, she hands the basket straight to Soren.

“Make sure she eats,” she says, fixing him with a look that leaves no argument. “And don’t steal it all for yourself.”

Soren blinks, mildly offended, then lifts the corner of the cloth and peers inside. “No promises,” he mutters, but the way he tucks the basket under one arm tells me he’s already committed. Lilian gives him a prim little nod and glances at me just once, lips twitching at the corner like she knows exactly how this will go.

By the time we reach the stables, everything is already prepared. The stable hands have come to know my habits by now—after combat training, I almost always end up here. Lyria is waiting in the shaded corral just outside the main stable building, already saddled and lightly brushed, her reins fastened with elegant silver buckles engraved with faintly glowing runes. She stands poised and alert, her swan-like head lifted toward the sound of my footsteps. Her coat glistens like moonlight on silk, and her long, muscular tail flicks once with anticipation, curling like a whip behind her.

She lets out a soft, high trill the moment she sees me, a call that lands somewhere between a greeting and a demand. I grin and hurry the last few steps toward her, reaching out to stroke along the fine slope of her neck and the gleaming leather of the saddle straps. Her sharp eyes flick toward Soren briefly, then back to me, clearly unamused by his presence. She’s never liked sharing.

It takes only a moment to adjust the fit of the reins before I mount, the familiar saddle molding perfectly to my frame. It’s enchanted, designed specifically to accommodate both comfort and balance during high-speed riding—necessary, given how Lyria moves. She waits only until I’m fully settled before she paws once at the ground, already itching to run.

Behind me, Soren clambers onto one of the palace’s larger riding horses with considerably more effort. The poor beast—sturdy and good-tempered—tosses its head once in mild protest as Soren adjusts in the saddle. He mumbles something about how it isn’t fair to pit a war-bred draxie against a "nobleman’s plowhorse," but he reins it in anyway and falls in behind me.

I let Lyria take the lead, her hooves light on the stone as we make our way down the winding forest path that leads to the outer grounds. The trees open up into glades and sun-dappled clearings, and soon enough, I give her the signal she’s been waiting for.

She bolts forward in a burst of speed, weaving effortlessly through the woods with all the power and grace she was born for. The wind whips through my hair, cool and sharp with the scent of pine and moss, and I lean forward just slightly, shifting in rhythm with her stride. She clears low branches with a leap, curves around tree trunks without slowing, and moves with such liquid precision it feels more like flying than riding.

Behind me, I can just barely hear the distant sound of Soren shouting something—probably sarcastic—as he’s left in our wake. I don’t slow down. He’ll catch up. Eventually.

I simply smile and let Lyria run.

𝒑𝒊𝒄𝒏𝒊𝒄 𝒃𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒓

Eventually, Lyria’s pace slows, her breathing even and unbothered despite the ground we’ve covered. The trees begin to thin, light dappling through the canopy above as we reach the edge of a small clearing—one of my favorite hidden places in the palace woods. A low waterfall spills gently into a crystalline pool, framed by smooth stones and flowering reeds. The water glimmers with hints of magic, untouched and mirror-clear, fed by some enchanted underground spring. It’s always quiet here, always cool, and the air smells faintly of violets and moss.

I slide down from Lyria’s back and give her a gentle pat before she trots off to graze nearby, her tail flicking lazily in the golden light. Soren arrives a few moments later, looking more winded than he’ll admit, and dismounts with the grace of someone who definitely wasn’t built for long rides at draxie speed.

We settle beneath a tree near the water’s edge, and he finally hands over the basket Lilian gave him—though not before attempting to claim first pick of the contents. I smack his hand away, earning a dramatic sigh and a halfhearted glare. Inside, the basket is packed with soft rolls, sliced apples and cinnamon, honey-roasted nuts, wedges of cheese, and sugared berries nestled in a cloth-lined bowl. We eat slowly, sprawled out on the grass in the warm shade, passing things back and forth with the kind of wordless ease that comes from time and trust.

At some point, a berry comes flying across the space between us and bounces off my shoulder. I retaliate instantly, and a short-lived war breaks out—quiet laughter, a few choice mutters, and a lot of berry casualties left squished in the grass. Eventually, we call a truce and fall back into quiet conversation, our voices blending with the rush of water and the occasional call of birds overhead.

After we finish eating, I kick off my boots and wander toward the edge of the pool, letting my toes dip into the cool, clear water. It’s refreshing—just cold enough to make me shiver, but not enough to chase me away. I roll my leggings up to my knees and wade in a little farther, arms loose at my sides as I tip my face to the sky and breathe in the scent of wet stone and blooming wildflowers.

Soren doesn’t follow.

I glance back and catch him sitting stubbornly in the grass a good distance from the water, arms crossed and clearly not tempted to join me.

“You’re not still sulking about last time, are you?” I call over my shoulder, entirely too innocent.

He doesn’t answer, but the look he gives me is eloquent enough. He is still sulking about last time. To be fair, I did push him in. But he’d deserved it.

He mutters something about trust, treachery, and dignity lost to deep water, and shifts just a little farther back as I splash in his general direction.

I don’t push it. Not this time. Instead, I stretch my wings slightly to catch the breeze and sink down onto a sun-warmed rock at the edge of the pool, my feet still dangling in the water, the rest of the world kept at bay for just a little while longer.

𝒆𝒙𝒕𝒓𝒂

Tumbler’s image limit is the bane of my existence. So yeah, some of the images may be a little blurry, but I tried my best. I don’t really know how to use tumblr yet so this is the best I can do for now. But anyways, I am a little excited, because this is sort of the first time I can show off some of the people in my dr's personalities a little more. So that's fun at least.

@lalalian

[mothmangela]

Breakfast At The Lighthouse

A short writing exercise done during a quiet window at work. Lucanis provides the occupants of The Lighthouse with a rather extravagant breakfast. Rook (in this case, Dove Thorne, my OC; you can find out more about him in the Dove Thorne tag on my blog) muses on found family.

There were hot, flaky pastry parcels full of a rich beef gravy. Bread, thick with golden butter. Sunny slices of cheese, whorled with holes lay on a platter, alternating with the rosy pink slices of fine honey-roasted ham. Tiny tomatoes glistened like rubies, dotted amongst a salad of lambs’ lettuce. Everywhere Rook looked, his eyes settled on something new and undoubtedly delicious. Fat scones, still steaming, piled next to a pair of elegant pots filled with glossy raspberry jam and clotted cream so fatty and rich it was almost buttercup yellow. Muffins in patterned paper cases, some studded with fat blueberries, others with little pieces of fudge, dripping caramel sauce onto the platter. Dainty finger sandwiches - the white bread cut so thinly Rook had no doubt he could’ve read the morning paper through it had he been so inclined - with the scalloped frill of wafer-thin cucumber slices peeking from the edges. Dumpy little tartlets, some full of different varieties of jam, some with chocolate, others with caramel and full-bellied hazelnuts, sat close by, looking all the more delicious for their humble presentation.

“It’s a rough breakfast,” Neve commented sarcastically, as though they both weren’t painfully aware this was more food than either of them had ever seen in their lives. “But it’ll do.”

She punctuated the comment by popping a whole, miniature boiled egg in her mouth. A quail’s egg, Rook realised; he’d seen them in nests hidden under the hedgerows in the fields, but always thought they were too pitifully small to steal. But the rich will take for the sake of taking; whether it’ll sustain them or not. Not that Lucanis was that type of rich person, but he’d certainly been brought up on finer fare than the clan had ever been afforded. Rook hurriedly took a seat; Neve was eyeing the gooseberry jam tarts in such a way that Rook was seized by a sudden sense of urgency.

“Lucanis,” Rook began haltingly. “Are you aware that there are only eight of us for breakfast?”

“I was up anyway,” Lucanis shrugged, shuffling about in a monogrammed bed jacket. “And I wanted you to have options.”

“Maker, that’s a heck of a spread,” remarked Harding as she strolled into the room, her eyebrows in danger of disappearing into her cloud of (visibly unbrushed) auburn hair. She sat beside Rook and helped herself to a wodge of toast, heaping on butter so generously that it began to melt and run in keen rivulets down her wrist. “How’d you learn to cook like this? Didn’t you guys have servants for this kinda stuff?”

“I spent a lot of time getting under everybody’s feet in the kitchens as a boy though Caterina used to scold me for it when she caught me,” Lucanis said. “I wanted to try and make something for everybody… there’s fresh fruit for Taash, and Ferelden cheese for you, Harding… Bellara gave me some Dalish recipes… Just seemed like a good way to stay busy when I wasn’t sleeping. A good and helpful way to stay busy.”

“I certainly shan’t complain,” chimed Emmerich as he drew up a chair and began to pour himself and Rook a cup of tea from the big brass kettle. Unlike the rest of The Lighthouse residents, Rook and Emmerich were quite decidedly tea drinkers rather than coffee drinkers, though Emmerich took his with enough sugar cubes to treat a whole herd of Halla.

“Lots of vegetarian stuff,” Rook nodded, shoving a plate of tiny puff pastry slices filled with what looked like crumbled cheese and slices of pears toward Emmerich.

“With such a care toward presentation that one would be forgiven for assuming a Nevarran chef had plated them!” Emmerich agreed, heaping a selection of things onto his plate. Taash had entered the room in silence and immediately put the entire serving platter of croissants onto their own plate, with a modest bunch of grapes on the side.

“Glad to see you’re making sure your diet has all the relevant food groups Taash,” Davrin remarked through a mouthful of bacon. “Twelve croissants and seven grapes. Very balanced.”

“Food groups are vashedan,” Taash replied airily, with a blunt certainty that made their statement seem far more reasonable than it was in reality. “Just eat what you want to eat. Nobody tells me what I can and can’t eat. Who cares about food groups?”

“I mean, it’s a point,” Bellara said tentatively. “With Elgar’nan and Ghillan’nain and… everything… Maybe we should enjoy stuff like this where we can.”

“And that is the point,” Lucanis said sagely. “No matter what the world is doing, good food is a great comfort.”

“Very Antivan point of view, but I can’t say I’d argue with it,” Davrin conceded, tearing a bread roll into halves and tossing one at Assan, who snapped it out of the air into his beak with surprisingly dexterity for an animal that managed to step on every single individual rib when he tried to climb into bed beside any of the Lighthouse residents of an evening.

“Has he tried to make you drink those weird “effervescente” drinks with the white stuff in yet?” Neve asked. “He says they’re good for digestion. I think they taste like the bottom of a store cupboard.”

“To be fair Neve, you eat like a Minrathous street cat,” Rook teased. “Isn’t this all a bit fancy for you?”

“Like you didn’t pay over the odds for a pound of Halla butter because it reminded you of home last week,” Neve crowed in response, though she was quickly distracted by the discovery of some potted shrimp. Rook let the comment hang, happy to take the teasing; his cheeks ached from smiling, and that feeling had become foreign in the past few weeks. It was hard to smile when you spent a great deal of time wading through waist-high blighted water and trying not to step in corpses. There was a feeling of family at the Lighthouse that he hadn’t known even with the Wardens; it was like being back with the clan again, taking turns milking the Halla and baking bread in the ashes of the firepit. In a strange way, it felt like he was a shepherd again, watching over the people of the North the same way he had once so carefully guarded the Halla. He knew Davrin had shared that aspect of growing up Dalish, and made a mental note to ask him if he ever felt that same responsibility for the people they met on their adventures. Rook had felt it during his service with the Wardens, and he felt it again with every step he took with his new family toward that distant end goal of eliminating the blighted gods and restoring order; like he was guiding his flock through the dark, and protecting them from what lurked in the shadow beyond the light of his lantern. It was just that what inhabited the shadows now was significantly higher stakes than what usually menaced the Halla.

[davenswitcher]

Mortal Delights

Word Count: 990

Ship: Astarion x Tav

Tags: Cured Astarion, experiencing food after 200 years

Rating: No warnings, General Audiences

Originally posted on AO3

A/N:

Ram Berries: Small, succulent purple berries.

Davalsa: Grape like berrys

Sortani: A rinded fruit; served sliced with melted cheese and nutmeg.

Aaaand you know me! Gotta squeeze that lovely elvish in there ❤️❤️ Sal aestar - I love you

His first meal as a mortal was something simple. Nothing too fancy to not overwhelm his taste buds. On the other hand, after two hundred years even asparagus would taste as if the gods themselves made love to you. Luckily it's just the entrée, so plenty of food left to savour and commit to memory. 

The entrée consists of a red beet carpaccio with goat crème cheese and balsamic crème-sauce. Sprinkled over the carpaccio are pomegranate kernels. 

Astarion is blindfolded to intensify his experience, but also so that he wouldn’t judge the food before tasting it. Because the gods know he would judge the food if it looked like something from a dingy tavern. They hired a private cook, but you never know.

The first bite is a mix of everything. Red beet, goat crème cheese, pomegranate kernels and balsamic. It’s a symphony. The rich and heady balsamic paired with the sweet pomegranate, topped off with the sweet and earthy red beet and heavy taste of goat crème cheese. It’s extraordinary. A combination rarely thought of but works well in a divine way. It feels like an explosion of flavours. Like firecrackers on New Year's Eve.

Astarion hums in satisfaction. “Good gods, I forgot how divine food can be.”

“Not getting religious on me, are you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, my darling. The only religion I subscribe to is you and your delicious self.”

“I thought we were over this, Astarion,” Cecillé giggles.

“Never,” Astarion grins.

“Shall we get to the main course? Or do you want to have more of the carpaccio?”

“I want to try everything the cook has in store, it’s a long evening after all! Let’s get to the main course, my sweet.”

The main course is a variety of grilled vegetables sprinkled with honey, a small cut of elk steak and salmon filet, a green pepper sauce for the steak and a honey mustard sauce for the fish. The fish and elk steak lay separate on the plate, so the sauces don’t mix. As a side dish, the cook chose a fruit salad. A mix of apples, ram berries, davalsa, kiwi and red grapes. Another side dish they prepared is Sortani. The fruit is sliced, served with melted cheese and nutmeg. As drinks, they have sparkling water from the mountains and Saerloonian Glowfire.

The blend of bitter, slightly sour and sweet is exquisite. The combination of the steak with the pepper sauce and a slice of grilled vegetable are in perfect harmony. The Sortani side dish is perfectly sweet and savoury at the same time. The cheese and the sweet nectar of the fruit complete each other. The nutmeg gives it the needed spice. The flavours dancing on his tongue.

Saerloonian Glowfire is a fairly sweet white wine. The taste reminding of pears. A tasteful medley to the dish.

The salmon is rich in buttery flavour, the sauce complementing it and enhancing the taste. The grilled vegetables are a contrast to it. Bitter and sweet, yet with a hint of a light earthiness. Overall delightful.

“My compliments to the chef, darling. Who would’ve thought I’d turn into a connoisseur. Although, I’m sure my taste before was just as exquisite. I remember the calamari at Elfsong. Odd, isn’t it? Remembering something so…mundane?”

“Not odd, no. Taste is a very important factor in memory, Star. And who knows, maybe the chef that worked there back then made it his life's work to serve the best dish he can make for each customer.”

“Novel, really. So, after all this delicious food there must be a dessert or is it you, my sweet?” Astarion takes the blindfold off, getting tired not to see his love.

“You won’t give up, will you?” Cecillé laughs.

“Nope, never. Being mortal means not just feeding my body with this exquisite sustenance, but also filling my soul with your love.”

“Gods, Astarion. You should’ve become a bard, not a politician.”

“Hmm, maybe. But those words are reserved just for you. Making you quiver, and therefore make me eat you right up,” he delights in her face and ears getting redder by the second.

“Chef! It’s time for dessert!” Cecillé squeaks and Astarion laughs unapologetic.

The final course, the dessert, is a rich chocolate mousse with two slices of orange on top. There are different bowls to choose from: dark chocolate, milk chocolate and the very exotic white chocolate. The white chocolate mousse is topped with strawberries instead of orange, to complement the sweet, slightly buttery with a touch of vanilla composition.

The taste of the dark chocolate is rich in flavour, heavy even. The orange brings a fruity, lightly sour and sweet balance into it. The taste is one word: divine. The mousse itself is light despite the heavy aroma.

Astarion moans at the taste and hastily corrects himself with a cough.

“Pardon me,” he says, a little embarrassed.

“Better than sex?” Cecillé teases.

“Gods no, woman, but close I admit,” he chuckles. “The chef did a wonderful job.”

“Glad I was correct with the assumption you’ll love it.”

The next bowl is the milk chocolate version of the mousse. Not as heavy as the dark chocolate. It’s sweet, notes of vanilla and caramelized sugar. The milk being more at the foreground in the taste. The orange slices counterbalance the sweetness with their fruity flavour.

Lastly, the white chocolate mousse. Very sweet, hints of vanilla and a buttery aftertaste. The strawberries bring a lightness to it and enrich the slightly buttery aftertaste. It has a “summer-esque” feel to it. 

“And? How’re you feeling?”

“Full and happy and I cannot believe still that it’s real.”

Cecillé gets up and sits down in his lap. Kissing the crown of his head. 

“You deserve it, Star. And I am so happy for you. Truly.”

She kisses his lips, the taste of chocolate still prominent.

“You’re strong and brave, Star. Sal aestar.”

He nuzzles her neck, “Sal aestar.”

[carfuckerlynch]

[transcript: July by Cristin O’Keefe Aptowicz

The figs we ate wrapped in bacon.

The gelato we consumed greedily:

coconut milk, clove, fresh pear.

How we’d dump hot espresso on it

just to watch it melt, licking out spoons

clean. The potatoes fried in duck fat,

the salt we’d suck off our fingers,

the eggs we’d watch get beaten

‘til they were a dizzying bright yellow,

how their edges crisped in the pan.

The pink salt bloom of prosciutto

we pulled apart with our hands, melted

on our eager tongues. The green herbs

with goat cheese, the aged brie paired

with a small pot of raspberry jam,

the final sour cherry we kept politely

pushing onto each other’s plate, saying

No, you. But it’s so good. No, it’s yours.

How I finally put an end to it, plucked it

from the plate, and stuck it in my mouth.

How good it tasted: so sweet and so tart.

How good it felt: to want something and

pretend you don’t, and to get it anyway. /end transcript]

my favorite food poem and one of my favorite summer poems <3

[afitterbrittany]

Grocery haul for the week! We had some ingredients at home that we’re gonna incorporate for some meals this week so we didn’t need Too much.

Tonight for dinner (+2 servings of leftovers) is homemade pad see ew with chicken and veggie spring rolls. We took a trip to HMart to get gai lan, rice noodles, and my favorite frozen spring rolls.

I grabbed some keto buns from Kroger and some pickles from Aldi to make Buffalo chicken sandwiches with real good chicken tenders. I’ll pair these with some sour cream and onion corn puffs that we got from Trader Joe’s yesterday.

The fruit of the week is apples! I grabbed some cosmic crisp apples from Aldi (the whole bag was $2.40!). I’ll pair this with a blueberry sola bagel (I have 3 leftover for this week yay), a light mozz string cheese stick, and some whipped cream cheese when I’m craving a snack lunch. I also grabbed one pear because that sounded tasty for a snack.

Some eggs and country breakfast chicken sausage for breakfast. We grabbed jalapeños for Clay’s breakfast- he likes adding them to his eggs.

We found a new flavor of Poppi at Aldi called “alpine blast” that we obviously had to try.

Another box of my favorite Goodles (shella good) to eat with dinner one night this week.

We spent about $80 total this week which isn’t too bad.

[blood-orange-juice]

What are your favourite kinds of tea and how would you rank them?

(you can't ask me about tea and not get hit with a wall of text. so... enjoy)

I don't really rank teas, I think tea should be picked for the occasion, depending on the season, company, scenery, food pairing (if there's any), the quality and type of water available, etc. There isn't really a single best option.

Also good teas are a lot like wine, it matters a lot who made it and how. A simple variety that is processed with proper care and is fresh will be better than a low-grade or old tea of a fine variety.

That said, if I had to pick favorites...

Wu Yi oolongs. You just can't beat that flavour profile, the mix of flowers, roasted nuts and what they call "cliff melody" (basically Wu Yi mountains terroir). They are complex, versatile (some teas can be ruined by water that's too hard or to soft, with these guys it just draws out a different part of the flavour spectrum) and pair with anything. Proper tea ceremony? Perfect. Something to serve to guests with mild blue cheese and some nuts? Even better, cheese enhances the flower aspects, it's honestly better than any wine pairing. Casual cup that goes together with vegetables roasted with herbs (yes, I sometimes drink tea with my dinner)? Great as well.

My favorites would probably be Wu Yi Shui Xian (daffodil, a bit of dried plum and a bit of gentle smoke), Roi Gui (eglantine and cinnamon, roasted notes, a bit of malt) and Da Hong Pao (this one is tricky, the versions of DHP you can get your hands on without being a government official are all blends, so technically it can mean anything, but most versions keep a lovely balance of smoke, sweetness, currant flowers and metallic notes). Bei Dou if I can find it (bisquit, oak, orchid, smoke, a bit of minerality).

Jin Jun Mei. My autumn favorite, the *prettiest* tea in the universe when done right, with notes of malt, rye bread, and wild strawberies, usually still very good when done wrong (chocolate, rose, physalis plants, orchid...).

Dong Ding oolong, one that I would use for introducing someone to fine teas. Freshly cut grass, wild honey, a touch of caramel and what I can only describe as a feeling of cold wind from a lake. Delicate and ridiculously pretty.

Hei Cha, "true" black teas that are more fermented than even pu-erh. Teas of bordelines dwellers and northern barbarians and I am one, after all. "Korla Pear" Hua Zhuan is my latest favorite. Wood and pear notes, one can't really describe it. Lu Bao if you live in a dry climate and let it sit on a shelf for a couple of years is also very good (wet autumn leaves, ink, charcoal and snowdrop flowers). Don't ever drink it fresh, it's awful and bitter and has a note of rotten vegetables. If you can forget it on a shelf for twenty years it's a transcendent experience and I can't recommend it enough.

Anything white, really. White teas are a very special art. They are pretty much tea herbarium. They are made with next to no processing and mostly are just gently dried in the sun, so you get the purest interpretation of the leaf itself. This leads to... experiments. There are the classics, like Bai Mu Dan with its notes of peony, wormwood and plant milk. There's the experience of drinking teas gathered before Ching Ming (if the year is good), the first tea of the year with its gentle minerality that's a bit like the scent of thawing snow.

There are insane things like letting them age for years like you would shen pu-erhs (Yin Zhen is honestly better in this version, if you ask me), I can't really describe that scent, it's wildflowers and autumn leaves both and something that feels like a mix of wormwood fluff and dried strawberries.

There are leaves that would normally be used for pu-erhs processed as white teas and these tend to have lovely cantaloupe and honey flavour. Honestly, the fun part about white teas is often not just the taste but how punk are the things teamakers do with the leaf and the fact you can taste nuances that would be otherwise overshadowed by the processing technology.

Chinese yellow teas. I actually don't remember names, I used to pick them by scent. Some have a "flowers and ink" scent that is very precious to me.

I think that's about it. I can't choose a single favorite between these.

[cagenewman]

CAGE & CORDELIA'S WEDDING OCTOBER 19, 2024

Immediately after the ceremony, guests are invited to the reception space, which has been decorated with lights, wooden tables, handmade signs, crystal chandeliers, and perfectly mingles Cordelia's elegance with Cage's rustic side. A catered meal will be provided buffet-style, with plenty of food & desserts, as well as an open bar and specialty cocktails. There will be live music during the dinner before the DJ takes over, and a cowboy hat bar, where guests are invited to create their own hat to wear for the evening. Enjoy your evening! | CEREMONY POST

Welcome to Cage & Cordelia's wedding reception! Please take a seat at any one of our tables (there is no assigned seating for this wedding, we want our friends and family to mingle), either inside the heated tent area, or outside. There is a dance floor that is half-covered, half open-air, and plenty for you to see and do while enjoying the evening. The wedding is kid-friendly, but please remember to leave the pets at home.

There will be an open bar for the evening. Beer, mixed drinks, wine, sodas, teas and lemonades will be available the whole night long. But! We also have specialty drinks that have been handcrafted by Elise Quinn and the staff of Taste. The bride's drink will be the Pomegranate French 75, and the groom's drink is the Blueberry Old Fashioned. Have one in their honor! Other special drinks for the night include whiskey collins, beer spritz (made with the groom's favorite beer, PBR) and sangria, with mocktail opens of apple ginger fizz, honey pear mocktail, and shirley temples for the kids.

To keep you well fed, we have tons of options from Overlook, Taste & Flour Co. Each table will have a basket of macarons, which pair delightfully with our cupcakes, both courtesy of Flour Co. The evening will start with hors d'oeurves from Taste, consisting of a charcuterie board at each table, and trays being passed around containing a number of pastry pizzas and flat breads, as well as shrimp and crab cakes. The meal is catered by Overlook, and served buffet style. Salads and fresh breads are offered first, followed by your choice of meat (chicken, fish or beef; pasta available for those who don't eat meat), and sides of macaroni and cheese, mashed potatoes and a steamed vegetable medley.

The evening will start with the same live band that provided music for the ceremony, with a selection of the bride and groom's favorite songs on strings. After the meal, however, our very own Aisha Thevar will be taking over as DJ! The dance floor better be moving all night long! Whether you want to shake your thing in the tent, where it's warm, or outside, where you're in the fresh air, there's space for you!

There are a number of special songs that the bride and groom have selected to dance to for the evening. Cage and Cordelia will share their first dance to Willie Nelson's Nobody Knows Me Like You. In lieu of dances with parents, Cordelia will dance with the groom's son, Colton Newman, and Cage will dance with the bride's daughter, Rosalyn Newman to You Are my Sunshine by Zach Bryan. At the end of the night, at the groom's request, everyone is invited out to dance to Family Tradition by Hank Williams Jr.

The bride and groom have also created a playlist that you can listen to here if you want to get into the vibes of the wedding.

If you're looking for something fun to do during the wedding (besides dancing, of course!), there's plenty to get involved with. The bride and groom have hung chandeliers under a tree on the property for photo opportunities (grab Stelly or Lucie and ask for a few snaps!), and there are a couple of fire pits set up for s'mores! Complete with little packaged marshmallows, graham crackers and chocolate pieces. And perhaps most exciting... a cowboy hat bar! Everyone is welcome to make one cowboy hat to wear and take home with them as a souvenir, make it as fancy or as simple as you'd like, there are tons of accessories to add to them. Don't forget to check out Mandy Hartman's painting of the bride and groom, as well! (She'd probably love if you delivered her a snack and a drink when you see her hard at work.)

To thank everyone for coming to their wedding, the bride and groom have made tea candle holder favors -- there should be one at every seat, so make sure that you leave with yours in tow! Thank you for being a part of our special day! xx

PLEASE USE THE HASHTAG #BUILDINGTHENEWMANS FOR ANY WEDDING POSTS.

[brandochunderdarkseas]

That is a pâté fermente based French country bread, with saint angel cheese left out till very ripe, topped with oven roasted strawberries.

Also some pistachios, pluots, and butter for some extra bread. The sparkling pairing was a cocktail, with a strawberry juice, Pimms, honey, and vanilla syrup taking the place of your regular cassis-style, saint-Hilliard sparkling (not actually method champenoise)

For supper it was new potatoes, boiled and dressed with an onion, sriracha, mayo, red-wine vinegar, with garden thyme flowers and leaves. Garden peas with apple mint and butter, boiled. Tuna tataki, with a strawberry, miso, butter sauce. A green salad with sweet potato croutons, strawberries, pecorino, and a basic lettuce salad. Dressing was prickly pear vinaigrette.

Finally, just whipped cream, with strawberries macerated with orange zest and orange blossom water and some sugar and honey.

There was also a quite nice Curvée, and a rather delightful grand cru, both of which I’d never had before.

[make-me-imagine]

Truth or Dare: Part One

(Part Two)

Plot: During a nostalgic game of Truth or Dare, Malcolm and Y/n realize there is more to their feelings for each other than just friendship.

Pairing: Malcolm Reed x Gn!Reader (Use of Y/n)

Written for @fandomdancer as a fic commission on my Ko-fi

Warnings: A couple mildly suggestive comments and scenes

A/n: The referenced "Southern pear salad" is pear halves with mayo, cheddar cheese, and maraschino cherries (and sometimes lettuce)

Words: 2k

----

You let out a soft sigh as the only sound heard in the room was the sound of the rubber ball Trip was bouncing off the wall again and again.

Staring at your shoes, you felt restless, but knew there was nothing to do, even as an engineer. The Enterprise was stuck in a storm that shut down the ship. Everything except life support and basic operations was down.

There was no work to be done, nothing that could be done, so you were all just waiting for the storm to pass. It had been three days, but it felt like three years. The pent up boredom was getting to you all as you sat around.

Trip finally let out a frustrated sigh as he leaned forward at the table "I'm gonna go crazy if I don't find something to do."

"Go for a run" Malcolm suggested as he sat nearby flipping through a manual.

Trip gave him a side-eyed look that told everyone exactly how he felt about that.

"Yeahhh, no. Let's play a game" He said instead as he turned towards you and Hoshi.

"Oh no." "No way."

The two of you spoke at once, as you shook your heads fervently.

"I'm not saying we play Monopoly again!" Trip defended himself as the tension rose in the room at the memory of how that went.

"Or Uno." Hoshi added.

"Or Life." Travis spoke up from nearby.

"Or even Scrabble, you guys really do need to tone down the competitiveness." You said as you looked between Trip, Malcolm and Travis.

"We aren't that bad!" Trip said with a chuckle.

You rose your brow "Yeah? Tell that to Captain Archers table."

An awkward air fell over the three men as they went silent recalling the previous nights incident.

"Okay, then a game that's not a card game or a board game." Travis suggested.

"And what would that be?" You asked as you looked back at him, as he went silent, unable to think of anything.

After another moment Trip spoke up with an excited tone "Hey, I got it!" he smacked his hand on the table, causing the rest of you to look over at him. "Truth or Dare!"

You and Hoshi shared a look as Malcolm snickered "What are we High Schoolers?"

"Oh come on, it'll be fun!" Trip defended "Come over here, all of you, come on!" He said with a newfound excitement in his voice.

You smiled and let out a soft chuckle as Malcolm and Travis slowly and reluctantly came over.

As you all sat around the same table Hoshi shook her head "I haven't played truth or dare since I was a kid."

"Well, let's be kids again then, for old times sake." Trip said with his familiar grin.

You and Malcolm locked eyes for a moment as you shared the same amused smile.

"Okay, I'll go first, get the ball rollin'" He looked around at all of you and you suddenly felt a sense of nervousness wash over you.

Exactly what kind of questions would he ask, and what kind of dares would he give?

His eyes locked with Travis "Travis. Truth or Dare?"

Travis swallowed as he sat up a it "Alright, uh, truth" He said with a slightly anxious tone to his voice.

"Oh, a truth on the first go, brave man." Malcolm said, a hint of teasing in his voice making you smirk.

"Alright, truth." Trip leaned forward, a small smile on his face "You ever gonna ask that cute communications officer on a date?"

Travis's eye's got a bit wider as you held back a grin. "Uh. Wh- what, who?" He chuckled nervously .

"Oh come on Travis." you began "Hannah. Your crush on her isn't exactly subtle."

He looked at you with terror as he swallowed, looking between the rest of them, they all nodded, confirming what you said. He let out a sigh as he closed his eyes.

"So?" Trip asked

"I don't know, maybe?" He said with an exasperated voice.

You smile and shook your head, feeling a bit bad or him. The others encouraged him a bit before everyone moved on, giving Travis his turn in the game.

Looking at you he smiled "Y/n, truth or dare?"

"Dare." You said easily, causing the others to 'ooh' like children.

You rolled your eyes. You weren't that worried, Travis didn't have it in him to give you a dare that you'd hate.

"I dare you to eat that southern pear salad Rollins made!"

You felt your stomach twist at the thought of the lieutenants "old family favorite" that he made for dinner.

Malcolm hissed under his breath knowing how much you would rather not.

Not wanting to back down at the first dare, you took in a breath as you backed out of your chair "Fine."

"Really?" Hoshi said with a sneer as she too thought of the unusual dish.

After a few deep breaths and a lot of water, you had finished your "dessert" and were now half way through the game of truth or dare. After Trip's obvious amusement towards you, you made him eat the last pear dish, which you know he would not be forgiving you for any time soon.

"Truth or dare?" Hoshi asked you.

"Truth"

She smiled softly, curiosity on her face "Tell us about your first love."

You felt your heart skip a beat for a moment at the question as you were thrown back in time.

Malcolm felt his breath hitch in his throat at the question, his eyes glued to you.

You smiled at the thought as you cleared your throat. "Joshua"

Malcolm wasn't sure why his heart clenched in his chest at the name. Or why he felt an uncomfortable tightness at the smile on your face as you said it.

You two had been friends for quite some time, maybe it was surprise at having never known about it?

"Joshua?" He repeated the name out loud, sensing the curiosity from everyone at the table.

You nodded "My high school sweetheart. We were together for five years before we broke up."

"Why did you break up?" Trip spoke up.

"He wanted to because we were going to different schools. I was going to the academy, he wasn't. He thought it was best, I didn't."

"He broke your heart?" Hoshi asked softly

You nodded "Yes, even more so after I found out he started dating someone new only a few months later. I was still very much in love with him. Much more than he had even been with me I think."

"Well he was a fool." Malcolm said softly.

You looked up and met his eyes and felt your breath hitch. There was something in his gaze you had never seen. The softness and sincerity in his gaze caught you off guard, it made you feel something you had never felt when he looked at you before.

You smiled and looked back down shrugging your shoulders "It doesn't hurt anymore. I was young, time has passed." You said sincerely, causing the others to shake their heads in agreement and understanding.

"My turn!" You said with a smile, trying to ignore the quickly beating heart in your chest as you felt Malcolm's eyes still on you.

"Travis, truth or dare?"

He nodded his head, feeling safer to get a dare from you than Trip "Dare."

You smiled knowing he had trusted incorrectly "I dare you to ask Hannah on a date."

The other's eyes widened as they tried not to laugh and cheer at the dare. Trip clapped as he grinned at Travis, who stared at you in disbelief and betrayal.

"You'll never know how she feels unless you ask." You said with a smile

"And if she says no?"

"Then you'll know! And you'll get to move on. Though-" you leaned a bit closer to speak softly to him, now acutely aware that Malcolm's eyes were back on you, something you wouldn't have felt so nervous about only an hour before.

"I know she likes you too."

Travis repressed a smile "Really?"

You nodded and he adjusted himself. "Well...when does this dare expire? I don't have to go do it now...do I?"

"Hmm. By tomorrow night" You said with a firm tone. "If you don't do it by then, you will be punished."

"How?"

You looked down at the empty plate at the table "I will have Rollins make you your very own special batch of southern pear salad."

He grimaced as he swallowed "Fine" He breathed out, earning smiles and a smack on the shoulder by Trip.

---

You weren't sure exactly how much time had passed since your game of truth or dare began, but you weren't complaining. It was certainly proving to be an interesting night, and you were glad to no longer be bored.

You watched as Trip stared at Malcolm, trying to come up with a suitable dare for him.

"I dare you to do twenty pull ups!"

Travis nodded his head in interest as you and Hoshi both rolled your eyes "That's so lame, what are you fifteen?" You chuckled

"Hey! Twenty pull up's is hard!" He defended as you rolled your eyes again with an amused scoff.

"If you think twenty pull up's is hard you need to work out more." Malcolm said with a smirk as he stood up, looking around for a suitable area to perform his dare.

It was Trips turn to roll his eyes at the subtle brag by Malcolm.

As you and the others watched as Malcolm adjusted his position, you watched with heightened curiosity as he began lifting himself into the air.

While the other's began counting his reps out loud, you found your eyes drifting downward as his shirt lifted to expose his stomach. Quirking your brow, you quickly shook yourself from your thoughts as you forced yourself to pay attention, glad that no one noticed where your eyes had drifted.

You were surprised at yourself, having worked out with Malcolm before you never caught yourself staring like that. I mean, you had noticed his physique definitely, but you had never blatantly checked him out before, at least not that you noticed.

Clearing your throat you started counting with the others, you really started to wonder what had changed so suddenly. Were you attracted to Malcolm? If so, why were you just now noticing it?

Malcolm repressed the smile that tried to form on his face when he thought he saw you staring at him out of the corner of his eye. Not just watching him, but staring. He didn't want to assume incorrectly, but the thought that you had been made him happier than he expected.

Landing on the ground with a proud sigh he turned to Trip and smirked "Easy."

"Yeah yeah whatever" Trip said as he rolled his eyes.

You chuckled at their interaction before you looked back at Malcolm. You felt a small jolt through your body as you found his eyes already locked on yours.

You thought you saw a smirk on his lips, before it disappeared, but you ignored it as you turned away. You couldn't help but notice the way your heat fluttered in your chest.

"Oh! Is it really that late?" Hoshi said out loud as she looked at her watch.

Glancing over her shoulder, you read the time and hummed under your breath "We certainly killed some time."

"No wonder I'm so tired" Travis said with a light yawn as he stretched.

"We should head to bed." Malcolm suggested.

As you all hummed in agreement, you made your way out of the room. Suddenly, you felt a hand rest on your lower back. Glancing over your shoulder, you felt your heart jump.

Malcolm was smiling down at you before speaking softly "Goodnight Y/n"

You smiled softly, hoping he couldn't tell how his actions effected you suddenly. "Goodnight Malcolm."

As you left, the feeling of his hand no longer on your back was obvious. Your skin almost felt cold from the lack of touch. You took in a deep breath as you wondered what the hell was going on.

Malcolm thought the same, as he gazed after you, as you disappeared down the corridor, his own heart pounding as he flexed his hand, missing the warmth you had provided a moment ago.

xx

Second part will be released soon! I hope you liked i!

General Taglist: @criminaly-supernatural, @imaginesfire, @onuen, @rexit-mo, @witchygagirl, @alexxavicry

Star Trek Taglist: @starfleetimagines, @groovy-lady, @asgardianhobbit98, @agent-catfish-kenobi, @starship-argo, @cs-please, @gatefleet, @fandomdancer

[ink-the-axolotl-rabbit]

(Im totally not planning on drawing you something For Christmas as a gift)

What are you currently interested in as of right now

Alright, pulling out my hyperfixation list paired with my favorite characters from said hyperfixations:

Team fortress 2 - pyro, spy, sniper, scout, engineer, zhana (idk if I typed that right) and Mrs pauling

Vocaloid/fanloid - hatsune Miku, Kagamine Rin, megurine Luka, MEIKO, Gumi, Vflower, and Zatsune miku

Utau: Kasane teto and defoko/utane uta

FNAF - withered bonnie, elizabeth Afton, toy chica, mangle, lolbit, and Abby (FNAF movie)

Deltarune - noelle holiday, rouxls kaard, Susie, And Lancer

Undertale - Sans, papyrus, Alphys, napstablook, and frisk

The unused and majin show (I need more of it on my tumblr feed) - unused and majin (no surprise)

Yt shorts wars - riggy the rankey and royal melon (royal pear's clone)

Pokemon - Hypno and gardenvoir (don't make me spray you)

Creepypastas: sonic.exe, Mx Mario, Hypno's lullaby, and lost silver

Sonic the hedgehog - mecha sonic mk ll, metal sonic, rocket metal sonic, Amy rose, Cream and cheese, Rouge the bat, Shadow the hedgehog, sonic the hedgehog, and maria

Mario - princess Peach, princess daisy, rosalina, and those talking flowers in Mario wonder

Paper Mario - Dimentio, Count bleck, and that taking paint can

Pizza tower - noisette, the vigilante, and snotty

Pikmin - captain Olimar and the blue pikmin

Kirby - Marx, king dedede, and meta might

Thanks for coming to my Ted talk, and letting me casually show my hyperfixations :]

This is your fault anon /silly

[kineats]

hi !! could i request some grey fox therian foods?

special requests for: texture safe (few mixing texture in one recipe, no liquid and solid mixes [like textures similar to yogurt with strawberry bits or smoothies with seeds]), and limited pallet? as in a bit more bland

i'm nd and just very sensitive to textures and too many different tastes but i want to feel more connected to myself !

You got it!!

Grey Foxes generally eat small mammals, birds, and wild local fruits. Persimmons and Grapes and other wild fruits are a common treat. But their FAVORITE treats are eggs of all kinds. So let me see what I can come up with! I also tried to keep this as texture safe as I can -- most of them don't have competing textures, and those that do can be easily augmented to not have as many!

Crock Pot Rabbit Stew (if the chunks of rabbit are small enough, they'll be as melty and soft as the carrots and potatoes!)

Gamekeeper's Pie (if you find mashed potatoes don't work, roughly chunking the potatoes will get you a similar consistency to the filling~!)

Garlic Chicken with Herbs (I almost always use garlic paste or powder cause I don't like the texture of whole garlic cloves)

Squab with Mushrooms and Pears (I would make these portabello mushrooms instead and do a roasted pear, to keep the textures similar to each other)

Pigeon Pies with Bramble Gravy (skip the cabbage and pancetta, used chunked parsnips and smaller chunked pigeon, to keep a similar flavor profile but more consistent texture)

20 Minute Mushroom Chicken (again, use portabello mushrooms, probably halved or quartered, to keep textures similar)

Pineapple Ginger Chicken Stir-Fry (If you can get or make Pulled or Shredded Chicken for this, it'll come out with perfectly paired textures!! Otherwise much smaller chicken bites will come out as soft as the pineapples)

Soft Boiled and Jammy Eggs! (I prefer Jammy for texture, but soft boiled is good for dipping toast into)

Poached Egg and Cod (Tenderizing the cod in advance with something like this will make it much softer and not clash as much with the poached white. The yolk makes a creamy sauce that helps make the cod a lot creamier, too)

Easy Grape Sorbet

Mulled Grape Cider

Broiled Persimmons with Mascarpone (though any mild, creamy cheese works! Try the persimmons alone first to see what texture will go best!)

Easy Persimmon Jam (very tasty with Peanut Butter~)

Persimmon Muffins

also here's some Wild Berries to try!

Happy nomming, friend! I hope these were safe enough!

[alaskaenmelena]

I'll definitely drop by the Japanese bistro J'PAN in a few days. The guys have already started celebrating International Women's Day. They were inspired by spring (as if watercolor) Japan and prepared a cute special menu with taiyaki mochi and drinks with cheese caps.

Taiyaki mochi are stretchy rice dough cakes with delicate flavors (290₽): pear-osmanthus, lavender-fig and rose-apricot. And they are paired with drinks on coconut water (490₽). My crush is Rosa cloud with rose and sakura.