#resplendent oil cookie

[stargazeraldroth]

Cookie Run OCs: Beast Cookies

I literally cannot stop thinking about these little abominations that invaded my head one day and have refused to leave me be ever since. So, rather than suffering in absolute silence (and continuously subjecting Lix to my nonsensical ramblings), I've decided to make a little summary/introduction post to yap about these little lads.

As always, feel free to send any questions into my inbox. Honestly, I am VERY nervous to post this stuff. Not because I think they're bad or anything, but because I'm just nervous to share my stuff and put myself out there.

Also, please note that the quotes I included are experimental. To test how the Cookies might talk.

~Crystalline Water Cookie~

Type: Ambush. Position: Middle. Pronouns: She/Her. Virtue: Justice. Successor: Sea Fairy Cookie receives her authority over water, but her Soul Jam/Virtue has no successor. Status: Deceased. Inspiration: Focalors/Furina (Genshin Impact).

The Cookie imbued with the Virtue of Justice, commonly referred to as the Lady of the Waters. She is one of the only two Virtues who did not fall to corruption, and was the second to perish. She assisted the Witches in imprisoning the other Beast Cookies and, following her discovery of Beast-Yeast's corrupted Life Energy and consultation with Millennial Tree Cookie, sacrificed both her Life Powder and her Virtue to remove the impurities created by her old companions. She is the creator of Sea Fairy Cookie, who she transferred her authority over all bodies of water to and dubbed the new guardian.

She's blind, and has been from her creation. In-universe, this is where the saying of "justice is blind" comes from. However, she does have the ability to see Cookies' souls with the power of her Virtue, which allows her to see through lies and deception.

Her Soul Jam takes the form of an azure droplet, and is positioned in the middle of her chest.

Her body is buried at the bottom of the Silver Tree, and the roots grew around it.

Although she's long deceased and doesn't make a proper appearance, she would have several cameos across Beast-Yeast-related portions of the story. She would be especially prominent during the section for Shadow Milk Cookie.

"From the moment I was baked, I have walked a fine line between right and wrong. I have seen many evil deeds and have faced many villains. I never thought... I would see my own friends as my enemies."

~Abundant Butter Cookie~

Type: N/A. Position: N/A. Pronouns: She/Her. Virtue: Compassion. Successor: Frosted Sugar Cookie (reincarnation). Status: Deceased. Inspiration: First Grain Cookie (Witch's Castle).

The Cookie imbued with the Virtue of Compassion, commonly referred to as the Guardian of the Fields. She is one of the only two Virtues who did not fall to corruption, and was the first to perish. She was the first to take a stand against the other Beasts for their acts of villainy and, after a fierce battle that lasted for many days, ended up crumbling at their hands. An act that, although accidental, set them apart from Crystalline Water Cookie forever. Her physical form crumbled away, but her Life Powder- and her Virtue- eventually found their way to the gentle embrace of the Sugar Swan.

Although Frosted Sugar Cookie is her reincarnation, she does not have any of Abundant Butter Cookie's memories, and the two should be treated as separate individuals. (Also, as an aside, Frosted Sugar Cookie is NOT considered an Ancient Hero)

Her Soul Jam takes the form of a golden sphere, which vaguely resembles the shape of an apple. It's positioned atop her head, fixed to a crown-like headpiece.

She's a supporter, not a fighter herself. While she is capable of holding her own, this is a large part of why she was ultimately crumbled by the others.

If she were to (hypothetically) be playable, she would most likely be of the Healing type. The reason she lacks that information is because Frosted Sugar Cookie, being her reincarnation and harboring her Virtue, would essentially fill the playable role for her.

"The land's resources should be shared amongst everyone! If we live as a community, we should be willing to help those in need! Come, come- let us prepare a hearty, satisfying feast for when the others arrive!"

~Resplendent Oil Cookie~

Type: Support. Position: Rear. Pronouns: They/Them. Virtue: Beauty. Successor: Candied Pecan Cookie. Status: Alive. Inspiration: Black Sugar Swan Cookie (Ovenbreak).

The Cookie imbued with the Virtue of Beauty, commonly referred to as the Jewel of True Beauty. Once upon a time, when the world of Earthbread was still young, they could find beauty and value in anyone or anything. But as time went on, the imperfections of Cookiekind became clear to them, and they grew disdainful and judgemental. After all, why should the embodiment of Beauty have to find the value of such feeble Cookies? A world where beauty prevails is a world where the hideous cannot persist, and all that is deemed filthy or ugly will be eradicated.

Following their imprisonment, their Virtue of Beauty was split into two. They wield the Light of Vanity, the counterpart to their successor's Light of Acceptance.

Their Soul Jam takes the form of a green oval on their stomach.

They were one of the last Beast Cookies to become corrupted.

As of right now, they're the least developed of the four.

"Why should I look for pieces of beauty in others when I can see complete beauty in my own reflection? If Cookies want me to gaze upon them, they should work on meeting my standards."

~Aromatic Extract Cookie~

Type: Ranged. Position: Rear. Pronouns: He/Him. Virtue: Creativity. Successor: Maple Honey Cookie. Status: Alive. Inspiration: Strawberry Crepe Cookie (Kingdom), Alice (Alice in Wonderland; also, "I Only Paint in Red Now" by Lydia the Bard)

The Cookie imbued with the Virtue of Creativity, commonly referred to as the Champion of the Arts. Gifted with a vivid imagination and a natural talent for creation, he was the inventor of many of Cookiekind's fundamental pieces of technology. He showed Cookies how to tap into their creative side and bring their ideas to fruition. Alas, it would only be so long before he began to experiment with less noble ideas, regardless of the disasters left behind by his handiwork. For one's creativity to truly flourish, they must free themself from the binds of reality.

Following his imprisonment, his Virtue of Creativity was split into two. He wields the Light of Exhaustion, the counterpart to his successor's Light of Innovation.

His Soul Jam takes the form of a black octagon, which is embedded in his forehead.

He was one of the first Beast Cookies to become corrupted.

He is the most drastically different from his initial concept, where he wielded the Light of Perfection.

"Oh, this next idea is gonna be so much fun! The possibilities are nearly endless! Endless, I tell you! ... Eh? What's that? We're running low on resources already!? Then we'll just have to pay some of our dear 'friends' a visit! I need those materials more than those short-lived wastes of dough!"

~Afterword~

Since these are, obviously, OCs and would have a significant impact on the lore, it's safe to say that many of the canon characters are also different in this universe because of their existence. For starters, Shadow Milk Cookie is the most dramatically different as of right now. Eternal Sugar Cookie is a close second, but due to the very limited information we have regarding her character, all that I have for her is largely speculation and derived from fanmade content.

Coming up with the Virtues, and then splitting them into positive and negative qualities, was the hardest part of this process. That's a big part of why I decided to do something different with the Virtue of Justice and the Virtue of Compassion; it just made it more convenient for me to... not have to worry about the corruption aspect. But before I got to the Virtues, deciding what standard baking ingredients I wanted to use was a hassle on its own. That brings me to my next point, which is an honorable mention to a Beast Cookie OC who did not make the cut.

Nocturnal Molasses Cookie, the Virtue of Determination. He didn't make it very far in his development, primarily because I simply didn't want to deal with 5 Beast Cookie OCs as opposed to 4, and also because his character was giving me SO much trouble during conceptualization. However, his intended successor, Ghost Mushroom Cookie, has a very good chance of being kept. And that's not to say that Nocturnal Molasses is getting scrapped entirely- he may get recycled into a new character, one that isn't a Beast Cookie. But for right now, he's just... nonexistent. He exists in my heart but not in my lore.

ANYWAY, if you made it all the way to the end of this, thank you for taking the time to read about my sillies!!! Honestly, I have so many Cookie Run OCs (probably too many), but my Beast Cookie OCs are very special to me. I care more about them than I do my Ancient Hero OCs, who I honestly kinda made only out of the obligation to have successors for the Beasts' Soul Jams.

So, I guess this is it for now. Like I said in the beginning, feel free to pop into my inbox with any questions to have about these sillies (or perhaps my other ocs)!!!!

[writer59january13]

February 27th, 2018 literary tinkering rejiggered October 11th, 2024

I believed fortune cookie maxim

cryptic message couched

Apple Macbook Pro update process

alternately titled “markedly

a Luke warm welcome Matt unfurled

courtesy Jimmy John,

who embarked on

imp apostle bull mission

going to find Mark Twain.”

After wracking my brain

deducing I declare what

constituted impossible mission

to delineate purpose of these words,

after initialled written

about six and a half years ago

my best hunch (backed up

while holed up in Notre Dame),

I agonizingly dutifully didst attempt

to distract anticipatory anxiety,

(analogous to an expectant father)

while delicate protracted procedure

ticked away the minutes,

where learned hands

gingerly tweezered various and sundry

state of the art electronic

components while trained fingers

instinctively, expertly, and admiringly

wrought awesome results

bitta bing bitta bang under the hood

of cherished Apple product

courtesy wizards hunkered down

troubleshooting laptop to restore functioning

of sophisticated electronic machine

to ideal factory settings

quality control capability promised

nothing short of a miracle,

whereby engrossed deep thinkers

echoed the sound of silence

thru the corridors of time

olly olly gluten

free ranging NON GMO, oxen

oiled lubricated cloven hoof

nsync cup aided toot tune

to clacking choppers

activated after this chap

dialed up favorite technical director

using his latest smarts

vaunted from years

of breathing, eating, and living

malfunctioning circuits

housed on motherboard

exemplifying divine computer devices

generated by brain child

videre licet avast array

of embedded electronic components

back in the day

Electronic Numerical Integrator

and Computer (ENIAC),

completed in 1946

necessitated taxing physical prowess

additionally forced human interventionists

to shout over din o'er

loud grumbling within bowel

of bulky binary beast of burden

along vaguely similar scenario

buzzfeeding abdominal anatomical beast

easily appeased when yours truly

a gluttonous gourmand,

tasking me to commence upon

ordering food glorious food,

which magically and mysteriously appeared,

after manifold fiery breath

spewed by amazing dragons

poof forming breath taking

heart stopping mind bending

sensational aural and visual feast

low and behold

wresting, teasing, releasing soundcloud

an appetizer to sense

and sensibility tete a tete

while inhabiting (neigh – riding)

caparisoned painted ponies

segueing faux horse sense

(animated, captured, framed

and linkedin within carousel of time)

courtesy tony Apple iPhone X - 256 GB

Silver Verizon amazing pièce de résistance,

sans technological fetes

with CDMA/GSM ringtones,

where a pleasant fecund female

bot tilled voice didst greet

prepping, priming, promoting

Crowded House serving

blue plate special of the Green day

dis "FAKE" kin listener eagerly

awaited: salivating, simulating

sexual soothing sans savory souffle,

the first culinary orgasmic savory dish,

after aye parked,

positioned, and plunked gluteus

near swinging doors leading into kitchen,

where this word maven strategically

dip posited said maximus to attempt

futile gastronomic endeavor

tum maximize tempering torturous tenacious

devastatingly deadly assault steaming enemy

disarmed disguised, and dismantled,

resplendent redolent redoubt

digitally remastering and remixing

non discerning indistinct aromas

emanating from naked lunch to supper esse

overwhelming paroxysms to gorge

putting a ritzy lid on heated fiery dogged

craving powder milk dog biscuits

(an impossible mission), where oozing,

licking, insinuating filaments

commingled as cutthroat

nemesis cooly whipped

devastatingly weeknd ecstasy

wickedly wafting, seducing,

satiating, and salivating

courtesy olfactory foramen,

deflecting incessant onslaughts

induced famished fellow

to reevaluate, relinquish,

and revisit his Weltanschauung soup per bowl,

while simultaneously commandeering cutlery

to attack, besiege, conquer

condemning delegate

of China ware without tea zing,

thence indiscriminately marshaling choppers

to set up base camp at Oral-B

(heeding flying pie warnings, where shewing

should desserts foe ment Hunger)

eggs sauce er baited

onslaught of herbaceous,

fabulous, delicious, and bodacious

culinary cuisine aromatic eats

thoroughly teasing growling stomach

steeping interminable suspenseful,

seven star Michelin magicians

empowered to transform most anything

(such as bilge water,

road kill or septic tank)

gourmet experienced huckster longingly horny

doubled as famished

Norwegian Bachelor farmer,

equating odoriferous garbage truck

on par suckling swollen teats

patience caved to restrain noshing

impaling his strict credo

on dustbin of his story

never again ass chew gnawing

even knuckles sandwich of fingers or toes

squishy human digits

texture of imported dates,

which hunger artist experienced pangs

voilà nothing short

of Pan's Labyrinth lesson,

did justice minimally satiated afterwards,

a restauranteur hoof hall

hues highbrow opinion,

hence a short survey about ambience,

yours truly will rate

perhaps unwise of an every

Jimmy John Joe gourmand

tubby biased after an apple ala carte blanche

preceded with delicious

hors d'oeuvre high marks

more nerve wracking

than going on a blind date.

And of course with enticing

forkful of flagrant food

Beep ping Update

completely disrupted first mouthful.

[gayferatu]

I hope it's okay if I request a Hobbit imagine real quick! My birthday's coming up relatively soon, on February 14th (Valentine's Day), so I'd really love to know how Fili, Kili, Thorin, Bilbo, Bofur, Ori and Dwalin (if that's not too much) would celebrate their s/o's birthday. I love your imagines, so this'd be a wonderful early birthday present! Thanks so much!

HAPPY EARLY BIRTHDAY LOVELY!!!! I hope you like it

Fíli :

 Fíli would subtly be trying to figure it out weeks beforehand. Asking around in your friend group or even family members and making them swear to secrecy. He wouldn't settle on 1 gift, he would want to make the day special for you, filled with smiles and small gifts hidden for you throughout your chambers. Small trinkets throughout your day.

 Waking up to him kissing you awake, whispering all the sweetest words to you, a happy birthday between pecks to your lips. You'd find small wrapped gifts by your washbasin, new soaps and hair oils in your favourite scents. Breakfast in bed after you come back from washing up, all your favourite foods arranged on small platters and as you slither back under the sheets, he'll feed them to you, kissing your hair and cheeks and shoulders as you chat about the day ahead. He won't be working today, knowing the best gift would be his presence and time with how busy a Durin heir is but that doesn't stop him from spoiling you with all your favourites today! You will spend a long time in bed before setting off around lunch time, a small picknick outside of the mountain by a herb garden.

 Later, you will have celebrations with your friends and family, and of course the company. Even Thorin takes time from his schedule to make an appearance. Fíli takes your to your chambers beforehand, a new beautiful black velvet gown set with silver lace waits for you there. This gift is more for him, he realises as you wear it, looking resplendent but he hopes you like it anyway. He'll braid new silver beads into your hair, made them for you himself, exactly to your liking and style. You wonder where he found the time, not knowing he's been planning this day for weeks.

 Your celebration takes deep into the night, ale and wine flowing, and you dance with Fíli for hours until everyone is tired and slinks off, the music tapering down and when you find yourself back in your bedroom, he'll help you from your gown, rubbing your tired body gently as your two relax back into the bed for your last present.

Kíli :

 Kíli would be less subtle. He'd have been asking months in advance, accumulating your likes and dislikes from the source. He'd do anything to get the gift you wanted, work tirelessly for it or pay a fortune. But of course, he'd also want to spend the day with you, probably take you out of the mountain early in the morning, perhaps to the woods and soak up the fresh air and sunlight on goatback. He wouldn't be returning you to the mountain until evening, having planned a nice long ride to a hotspring at the other side of the mountain.

 Once there he'll lay out blankets, take out the food he's brought and you'll eat together, joking and laughing, and he'll give you your gift while trading stories and catching up on eachother's lives and jobs, finally having the time for it. He'll have brought cards and games and you play until noon when the sun is high and warm in the sky and you both make way to the hotsprings. Of course it doesn't take long until there's splashing and messing around and competitions of who can hold their breath the longest. You let him win. And then you let him do other things.

 When you return to the mountain you'll celebrate with your loved ones and enjoy the rest of the day, retiring to your rooms with Kíli later, snuggling up and sleeping in late the next morning.

Thorin :

 Thorin would probably make you something with his own hands, a black leather belt with ornate throwing knives encrusted with aquamarine cabochons set in silver.

 He'd have a feast planned for you, half the mountain in attendance. A king throws a party in style, of course. Your favourite flowers decorating the tables, Durin colors replaced with your own likings for the day. There'll be music and he'll commandeer a harp to play you  sweet love songs after getting egged on by Fíli and Kíli but he doesn't mind, really. The smile on your face worth the slight embarrassment of having to perform in front of everyone.

 He'll take you back to your chambers earlier when he notices you tire of the festivities and you two make your leave quietly and he'll give you his gifts there, in private. He'll probably serenade your quietly, his own harp sounding better, his low rumbling tones relaxing you as he sings you to sleep.

Bilbo :

 Oh, he'd be so sweet about it. Planning a more than one party for the day, one for just the two of you, the other later, the whole of Hobbiton will likely be in attendance.

 He'll decorate Bag End after first breakfast and you go out for a walk with some encouragement from Bilbo. Garlands and colorful and nicely scented candles placed everywhere in the dining room, a surprise second breakfast upon it, cooked up in a storm as he doesn't have much time. But he secretly prepared a lot of it already, the night before. Small pastries with jam fillings, sugar cookies and biscuits, decorated with your name and small "Happy birthdays!" in the icing.  Lovely tea with rosepetals and lavender and honey. And a pretty bracelet that he slips on your wrist after you've indulged yourselves with the food, sweet tooth satisfied. Gold and silver chain with a cute carved onyx charm on it shaped like a flower.

 Later, a grand party in the field. Gandalf is there, plenty of fireworks in tow. There's music and dancing and drinking and it's so much fun you actually go to bed exhausted that night, wrapped up in your favourite Hobbit's arms.

Bofur :

 Bofur's a romantic. Not everyone knows it, but he is. He loves to hold your hands and kiss every finger in private moments. Likes to nuzzle your cheek and press kisses to the corner of your mouth, mustache and beard tickling you. He also loves to take you on dates to Dale, walk with you hand in hand from stall to stall, pointing out deals to eachother and shopping. That's how you'd spend this day too, I think. Together, doing mundane things but he's so sweet it will feel like a special occasion. You eat small savory snacks wrapped in tiny parcels in the streets of Dale, drink sweet cherry wine in a small inn, sitting at a table in the back, fingers interlocked on top of the table, just spending quiet, loving time together until later. 

 He'll give you his gift upon returning to the mountain, in your chambers. He mined it himself, he proudly proclaims. A beautiful, football sized geode in the shape of a heart, with sparkling amethysts. He explains that when he found it he knew he had to give it to you, that it was the mountain's gift as well. It's beautiful and you place it on your bedside table, the firelight catching it and making it refract the light on the stone around it.

 There's a party that night, your closest friends and family, the company all there. Dancing, singing, joking and reminiscing. Many tall tales told this night from the mouths of Kíli and Fíli. You all may drink a bit too much. Way too much. It may end with a King snoring on the table, a Dwalin draped over him, nearly crushing him, just as unconscious. You'll remember this night forever.

Ori :

 Oh, Ori. So sweet. Library dates? Library dates. But not today, he'll drag himself from the darkness for you, take you out walking with him, shyly holding your hand. He'll have knit you things. Fingerless gloves with delicate stitches in black yarn. A matching hat and scarf. He'll blush at the sight of you wearing it, happy to have given you things to keep warm with. 

 A small leather bound book finds its way into your hands as well, put there hastily by him, declaring you should read it later, when you're alone. They'll contain little poems about you, haikus and notes, sweet thoughts that he has about you accumulated here in his neat penmanship. Dried and pressed flowers and herbs between some of the pages, sketches of other plants. It's sweet and must've taken a long time to make.

 He probably won't plan a party, but his brothers will pick up the slack. A rented small pub packed with all your favorite people. Ori will stay by your side all night, even shedding some of his shyness after a couple ales, fingers locked with yours as you dance on a merry tune late that night. Giving you small kisses when he thinks no one is looking. Bigger kisses when he's sure about it. And more later, when you drag him back to your room.

Dwalin : 

 Dwalin is practical. He doesn't really ask about your birthday preferences beforehand. Instead when you wake in his arms in the morning, he's already awake and gruffly congratulates you on turning a year older. He'll congratulate you a lot. If you get my drift. 

 His gifts are practical as well, things you needed, and have mentioned to him in the past. Nice to know he cares and listens, right? He wordlessly slips a silver ring with a small white gem onto one of your fingers after, this one a little less practical and more like a promise but he knows the significance of rings to humans and his cheeks feel warm under his beard as though he'd just slipped a marriage bead onto a braid in your hair. It's cute.

 I don't think he'd want to part with you a single moment or share you with anyone today. Celebrations will wait until tomorrow, he had decided and spends all day catering to your whims. No request denied even if you get cheeky with them. He'll just huff a small laugh and do it anyway. Rub your feet, kiss you once, twice, thrice, twenty times. Fetch that quill, and regretting it when you set upon him with it, tickling him. His only weakness that only you know. But he won't mind, loving your laughter and grins and he'll get his revenge later anyway.

I HOPE YOU LIKED IT! It got a bit long lol

Requests still open!

[thesweetblossoms]

Botanically Mesmerized

Whether I am working in my garden, softly luxuriating in heart-wrenching notes of tuberose, or I am applying a perfume with notes of bitter orange, or I am detecting a note of tobacco on a frayed, well read, sepia toned book, or I am rubbing coconut oil mixed with bergamot and carrot essential oils on my skin, the world of botanicals and spices anchor me deeply to the present moment and I remain enchanted and beguiled by the otherworldly gifts. Here are a few of my favorite and most used spices that keep me wondering at the heavenly incarnations of plants and motivate me to create cuisine, desserts and apothecary potions.

Vanilla: I add vanilla to many dishes, including oatmeal, cookies, kefir smoothies, baked apples, strawberry compote and cakes. I have made my own vanilla essence soaking Madagascar vanilla beans in bourbon, but I also try all kinds of vanilla extracts that are available in the market and online. A delicate whiff of the sweet, caramel, tropical and romantic perfume helps to relax as well as entice my taste buds. I have used vanilla extract as perfume dotting a few drops on my hair and neck to channel the carefree and lighthearted energy of childhood birthday parties and sprinkled laughter.

Cinnamon: I adore cinnamon and also use it generously in banana breads, in black tea, in mashed potatoes, in curries, in cookies and more. I use whole cinnamons when I cook dishes such as daal or Bengali chicken curry, but ground cinnamon in most other dishes such as Thai noodles and lemon baked chicken. I am continuously running out of cinnamon as it is versatile and compelling. I have applied cinnamon on my skin to help me when I study as it helps to awaken and focus my mind.

Nutmeg: The scent of nutmeg reminds me of apple pie, of deeply roasted meats, of homemade granola and of eggnog. I experiment with nutmeg and add little bits to deepen the flavor of grilled potatoes, asparagus and sweet potatoes. This is a spice that I wholeheartedly enjoy having on hand to add a comforting and rich flavor to many meals.

Cloves: I use cloves mainly in Indian subcontinental cuisine and chai but recently have used bits of crushed cloves in gourmet chocolate walnut cookies. It is such an intoxicating, heady, narcotic and potent spice that energizes and heals in tiny doses.

Cardamom: This is such a special spice, I ask my mother to bring me fresh spices from Asia and am always eager to grab a few cardamom pods to perfume the oil when I make curries, but I have also used tiny quantities of the sweet, tangy, uplifting and alchemical spice in baked goods such as in a rose pistachio cake.

Chamomile: This is a staple dried flower that we drink every day to calm us down and ease us into the final rituals of the night. I also freeze chamomile to apply on my skin after a day of swimming. I have been attempting to grow chamomile flowers from seeds but have yet had any luck. Yet, I enjoy buying and looking at beautiful and quaint boxes of chamomile tea and harnessing its magical powers to ease the grisly edges that often shadow the hours.

Saffron: This is a beloved spice that I have seen my mother use to flavor a smidgen of cream to add to her lamb biriyani, or to add subtle and unmistakable flavors to delicate rice puddings or Shahi Tukra (Indian bread pudding). When I have saffron, I am eager to try cooking Risotto Milanese and using it to create a resplendent paella.

Turmeric: This is a familiar and commonly used spice in many Asian dishes, I use it to make Thai curries, to spice daals, to make luscious Goan shrimp with coconut milk and to concoct a hot tonic with ginger, lemon, honey and steamy water when feeling under the weather. I am often trying to incorporate turmeric in other dishes to benefit from its intense healing components. My grandmother made all of the girls in the family drink fresh turmeric root juice every day in the weeks leading up to our weddings to create glowing and healthy skin.

Jasmine: When my jasmine blooms I pick the blossoms and inhale ravenously and am immediately transported to another realm as my mind melds with the creamy, hypnotic, intoxicating and primal aphrodisiacal perfume. I also dry the blossoms to make a strong floral tea to ease anxiety, depression and also help soothe and regulate feminine cycles.

Herb De Provence: This is a superlative mix of spices that help me remember my beloved Provençal region, it carries notes of the land of poppies, sea salt, cypresses, rose wine, rosemary and lavender. I use it lavishly whenever I roast chicken or make ratatouille.

Whatever the destiny of the months, I am convinced that the spices and botanicals we use heighten it’s unraveling. So please inhale fully next time you come across these magical talismans of nature, as they readily open other portals and shed light on the all and sundry, inexplicable and haunting mysteries under the moon.

[lumiereswig]

Dear @lumiereswig, I don't have a tumblr account, so I just quickly want to tell you (through here) that your writing is heaven-sent for me and for this awesome fandom. You write perfectly in character (like, everyone) and are so freaking hilarious I die laughing. I come to your blog every day whenever I need to get feels or smile - and you've never dissappointed me. Also, I feel like I need to request a fic if I send an ask, so what if Plumiere goes to Paris? And maybe a Moulin Rouge x-over?

omg you are best person. hello, best person. you too are heaven sent and have made this small trash heap feel that perhaps all the garbage fics are, in the end, worth it

obviously a moulin rouge crossover would be amazing, but everytime i try to write one i fall over laughing and can’t get up, so here’s a PLUMIERE IN PARIS fic because you are best person and here you go

Paris is different from how Plumette remembers it. When she left, it was clouded by the smoke of burning bodies and the coughs of the dying: plague-filled Paris, a gloomy shadow of its former glory, swallowing itself up in its own smoke. Now, the sun shines on the cobblestones. Old women, bundled up in their knitting and their groceries, amble across the streets with no fear of disease. There are children running around.

Lumiere is relaxed, and easy, and smiling. He tucks her arm into his, and takes in his beloved city with one sweeping arm.

“How long has it been since you were here, Plumette? Do you remember the sweet sound of the café cantinas? Have you danced beneath the stars in le Marais?”

“It has been about eleven years, my love,” she says. “But...I was too young, then, to spend time in those streets. I stayed at home—until I couldn’t, any more.”

He doesn’t pick up on the reluctance in her tone, the slight fear that is still there. The plague left no scars on Plumette that anyone can see—but her heart still holds one, from the sickness that took her family and former life.

“Come, then! You must meet my family. You must see my street!” He is twenty-three, and overflowing with joy; he has his love on one arm, and his city on the other. No curse has crossed his life, as yet. All he has is vivacity, and Paris, and Plumette.

Lumiere’s fine, golden coat lights up the streets as they plunge away from the richer areas of town—les Champs Elysées, les Tuilieries—and into the working districts of the city, where the grand boulevards give way to bread-shops and feral cats. His wig, his best, bobs high; he looks the picture of the royal courtier, and Plumette feels a prick of pride to have him at her side.

The store they stop at is extremely ordinary. Bottles and jars of herbs and powders are stacked up in the paned window; broken barrels crowd the stoop, and the roof is lopsided. A crooked, ordinary apothecary shop, that smells of mothballs and camphor.  Standing in front of the door, resplendent in embroidery and gold buttons, her Lumiere looks supremely out of place.

“Your ancestral home?” laughs Plumette. “Come! Let me meet your family!”

He throws open the shop door without even looking. Her graceful courtier would know his way around this poor apothecary with his eyes shut.

“Papa! Maman! Where are you? Ach, mon dieu—I forgot how much I hate the smell of castor oil—Papa!—”

“Lumiere!”

She would never, ever guess that these people were his family. They are dressed as ordinary as could be: brown vests, black bonnets, hair tied back without adornment, spectacles pinched onto long noses. Though wait, now: the woman hugging her now, she has bright blue eyes in her broad, happy face; and his father’s nose is just the same, and the way his hair flops toward his face is so familiar.

“Oh, you are so good, you are so lovely, oh he didn’t describe you nearly enough—” Lumiere’s mother, small and fussy and Scottish, is almost shaking her with approval. “Oh but how do you put up with him? Take off that coat, there we go, oh my word she is Parisian, I haven’t seen such elegance in years—”

“Maman, you live in Paris!”

“Now you shut up, dear, and take off that wig—let me see the hair I gave you—”

He takes off the wig and lets his russet curls bounce free. When his parents aren’t looking, he ruefully rolls his eyes at Plumette; but she can’t stop laughing, and is dragged into the shop by the rough, glad hands of the shopkeepers. Lumiere’s father is quiet and contained; his mother is wired with energy, and bustles around to get them ordinary tea and a few ramshackle, half-burned cookies.

It smells terrible, in here. The sun hardly enters in. Dust and flour coats the boxes of herbs, and it is too cramped to dance, and too damp to sing. Next door, the neighbors are shouting. A badly tuned accordion is playing out the window. It is all noise, all ordinary dust and must.

And Plumette loves it.

It takes them hours to get away, stuffed on terrible Scotch eggs (merci, maman) and dull anecdotes on the quartier’s political situation (non! papan!). Lumiere breathes easy when they are back in the city’s grand streets, and puts the wig on again.

“I love them, Plumette, you know I do—but oof! They are so...bourgeois. I lived out in their attic by dancing and singing and studying etiquette. We can love our roots, but not abide by them.”

“I know you love them, mon coeur.” Affection was obvious, despite the sighs and secret feeding of the cookies to the dog. “And they are good people! A little...stuffy. But good.”

“But come! You must show me where you grew up! Show me Paris: Plumette’s Paris.”

He has no idea how much her heart’s scar aches, just then. But she leads him on—away from the humdrum streets, with their grannies and their children, and down a boulevard.

“Is this a shortcut, ma chérie?”

“Keep going.”

The streets get quieter and quieter; the gates grow higher, the people better dressed. Soon they have outpaced the sounds of Paris, and walk down grand highways, lined with fine mansions. And still Plumette keeps going.

The grandest house is at the end of the street. Gardens surround it. A fine, arched iron gateway keeps them from going in. Emblazoned on the iron is a feather motif: the insignia of a fine, noble house.

“C'est ici,” says Plumette, and watches Lumiere stare.

“This?!”

“Mon chéri, don’t lose it.”

“Which window was yours?”

She doesn’t expect the question. Gasps about her wealthy childhood, maybe a startled inquiry or two about what her title truly is—but the touch of home, in this question, knocks at her heart with gentle hands.

“That one. On the second floor—do you see? With the jasmine climbing up the windows.”

Lumiere nods and holds her hand. She did not expect this. Words are flowing fast.

“It was a beautiful room; bright and sunny—I had a bed of my own, and a vase with daffodils by the window—”

“Excellent taste.”

“And somebody—my grand-mère, I think—she hung crystals up, little glass stones to show the light. I liked to look at them as I fell asleep.” She remembers her grandmother now, in her white dress, and sees her worn old hands, brown like mahogany, pointing to the portraits on the walls, saying: and he fought with Charlemagne. He courted the Princess of Austria. She stunned the Prussians with her wit and her grace. And I almost became the Queen of England!

“More.”

“My mother had the smallest shoes—but the most of any woman at court. 500 different pairs, I think?”

“Truly excellent taste.”

And Plumette talks, as they walk around her old home, and though its gates are barred and locked she feels something inside her uncurl, like a budding rose. She hasn’t thought of her family like this, as healthy and whole and loving, in eleven years. Lumiere listens, and Plumette’s eyes mist.

“I lost them,” she says at last. Sorrow, sorrow: to end so much happiness on such a bitter note. Plague deprives her of a happily ever after. “And I ran away, and came to Villeneuve. And I love it there, you know I do—but I miss my home.”

“Bien sûr, ma chérie.” His arm is tucked in hers, now. “But, now—if all your family was gone, then who maintains these gardens?”

She stops and starts and stops again. The gardens look magnificent. The windows of the house are sparkling in the light. A face peeps out the window.

“Do you—do you think I still...?”

“Your ancestral home, non?” says Lumiere. “No one can live there except someone of your family. Let us go and meet the family!” And he opens the gate with a sweeping gesture, to take in all of Paris—and Plumette’s heart, as well.

[biofunmy]

Holiday Nights, Merry and Bright

April may be the cruelest month, but December, the darkest, can feel unkind, too. New York, however, offers its own illumination during these long, blustery nights, and not just Rockefeller Center’s seasonal sparkle. Here’s a guide to some of the lavish light displays across the city, including twinkling and towering sculptures, Chinese-style lantern shows and giant menorahs. You will usually find food, entertainment and family activities here, as well as glowing LED artifice: fairy palaces, alluring sweets, roaring dinosaurs — and lots of pandas.

RanDalls Island Park

LuminoCity Festival

Imagine waking up inside an anime cartoon. LuminoCity, a 16-acre extravaganza, even has its own hero from another universe: Lumi, a magical light bulb. Resembling a benevolent Pokémon, Lumi appears — in lantern form — throughout the displays, offering amazed commentary in recorded, childlike narration. You (and he) explore the exhibits, which Xiaoyi Chen, LuminoCity’s founder, has patterned after the lantern festival in Zigong, China.

Sculpted in steel and covered in satin, LuminoCity’s enormous lanterns occupy environments like the Winter Fantasy, which includes Santa’s sleigh and a towering castle. The Wild Adventure features dinosaurs, as well as a miniature Bifengxia Panda Reserve. My favorite display was in the Sweet Dream environment: a giant waving cat — a symbol of good luck — surrounded by 12 smaller ones representing real feline Instagram stars. LuminoCity also offers performances, themed nights, a heated marketplace and shuttle bus service to and from 125th Street and Third Avenue in Manhattan. (But if you book the bus, wait on the street and not — as I did — on the avenue.) Through Jan. 5; luminocityfestival.com.

This 10-acre site is illuminating, and not only because of its more than 1,200 huge lanterns. As I traveled through the music-filled displays, I learned that the mythical Chinese phoenix has the face of a swallow and the tail of a fish, and that pandas spend 14 to 16 hours a day eating bamboo. In addition to exploring environments representing these and other creatures, visitors can stroll the Dinosaur Path, which includes lanterns of a Tyrannosaurus rex and a feather-crested velociraptor.

The festival, easily reached by a free shuttle bus from the Staten Island Ferry terminal, also appeals because of its location at the Snug Harbor Cultural Center & Botanical Garden. On Lantern Fest Fridays in December, the neighboring Staten Island Museum, Newhouse Center for Contemporary Art and Noble Maritime Collection stay open until 8 p.m. The festival also has a heated tent, outdoor live performances, a skating rink and the glittering Starry Alley, where eight marriage proposals were made last year. Through Jan. 12; 888-718-4253, nycwinterlanternfestival.com.

Brooklyn and Manhattan

Giant Menorahs

Hanukkah, which begins at sundown on Sunday, is the Jewish Festival of Lights. But while most menorahs softly illuminate homes, these two — in Grand Army Plaza, Brooklyn, and Grand Army Plaza, Manhattan — will light up the sky. Commemorating the ancient Hanukkah miracle, when one small container of oil used to rededicate the Jerusalem temple lasted for eight days, the enormous menorahs also burn oil, with glass chimneys to protect the flames. Lighting the lamps, each over 30 feet tall, is a feat itself, requiring cranes and lifts.

On Sunday at 4 p.m., crowds will gather in Brooklyn with Chabad of Park Slope for latkes and a concert by the Hasidic singer Yehuda Green, followed by the lighting of the first candle. At 5:30 p.m., Senator Chuck Schumer will accompany Rabbi Shmuel M. Butman, director of the Lubavitch Youth Organization, to do the honors in Manhattan, where revelers will also enjoy treats and Dovid Haziza’s music. Although all the menorahs’ candles won’t be ablaze until the festival’s eighth day — there are nightly festivities — this year the Manhattan lamp, decked in glittering rope lights, will be a brilliant beacon all week. Through Dec. 29; 646-298-9909, largestmenorah.com; 917-287-7770, chabad.org/5thavemenorah.

Bronx

Bronx Zoo Holiday Lights

The most dazzling animals I encountered here had no need of LED technology: They were Owlexandria, a fierce-looking spectacled owl, and Quincy, a resplendent Eurasian eagle owl, whose handler allows evening visitors to pose with them for pictures. Almost all other creatures at the after-hours Holiday Lights show, however, are luminescent creations, often accompanied by vivid wildlife sounds. Outlined in glittering lights, some appear to move or fly as a result of the sequenced illumination of different silhouettes. Others, like those along the Animal Lantern Safari trail — you enter through a sculptured shark’s belly — are silk-and-steel models whose wings or heads may subtly shift. (I especially enjoyed the lemurs in the trees.)

The zoo, which has revived Holiday Lights for the first time since 2007, also features roaming carolers, ice-carving demonstrations and a Christmas tree that’s a light show in itself. On Friday the zoo begins a festival within the festival: Ice Jubilee, which includes an ice throne, a 20-foot ice slide and, for adults weary of holiday shopping, an ice bar. Through Jan. 5; 718-220-5100, bronxzoo.com.

Manhattan

Luminaries

Dreaming of a tropical Christmas? Nestled among the palm trees in the airy Winter Garden at Brookfield Place, this light installation is entirely indoors. Designed by the LAB at Rockwell Group, the display consists of 647 acrylic LED lanterns in sherbet hues, suspended from the complex’s ceiling in a Mondrian-like grid. Every hour on the hour, shoppers and diners can watch digitally programmed light shows. The lanterns change color and intensity in dizzying patterns, while a seasonal soundtrack plays. But the installation’s greatest connection to the holidays is its three wishing stations. Touch one, and your “wish” initiates a miniature light show overhead. This artificial magic does real-world good: For every wish, Brookfield Place will donate $1, up to a total of $25,000, to Cookies for Kids’ Cancer, a national research nonprofit. Through Jan. 3; 212-978-1673, bfplny.com.

This 700,000-square-foot event at Citi Field aims to be a theme park as much as a lantern show. To enter, you walk in loops around row after row of metal barriers, which would make sense if Hello Panda had lines like Disney World’s, but on the Sunday I visited, it didn’t. Once inside, you’re greeted by a gargantuan figure that resembles RoboCop transformed into a rodent. Representing the coming Year of the Rat, it’s one of more than 120 illuminated exhibits that include safari animals, a fairy castle, a massive Christmas tree, a menorah and a tunnel-like panda with a body like a glittering Slinky.

Screeching dinosaurs — animatronic rather than lanterns — attract children, who can also play on luminescent doughnut swings and a giant checkerboard that lights up in response. Heated tents shelter a food court, a performance stage with a dance floor, a ball-pit playground and what may be the festival’s most intriguing feature: booths where artisans practice traditional folk arts like paper cutting and sugar painting. Through Jan. 26; 718-886-8158, hellopandafest.com.

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An Afternoon With Two Vintage Porsche 911s Re-Imagined by LA’s Workshop 5001

Marlon Goldberg has worn many hats in his 30-some years as a lover of cars. He grew up in New York and spent younger years hanging out at racetracks, spent some time training as a Ferrari tech, and then moved to sunny Southern California, selling new Porsches for a spell. He went on to become Singer’s operations director, ultimately leaving and making a return to Porsche sales. And now, Workshop 5001, Goldberg’s fledgling Porsche restoration business.

Based in an unglamorous industrial section of Los Angeles, CA, the shop itself is nearly surgically clean and has been completely renovated by Goldberg. The restoration of this space, with its pitched roof and beautiful exposed wooden beams, was a labor of love, and indicative of the passion he pours into his air-cooled creations.

Take the car known simply as “Number 1,” sitting roadside on Latigo Canyon Drive, far west of the shop and resplendent in its understated Nardo grey paintwork. Number 2, a hardcore-spec ’74 911 in vivid blue paint, also came out to play, but it’s still a work in progress. Number 3, a Porsche 356 B Roadster undergoing heavy metalwork, is still back at the shop. But we and the first two creations are ready to play in the Malibu hills, taking advantage of these winding roads, thankfully empty on a mid-week afternoon.

Number 1 began life as a 1973 Porsche 911T – a car purchased on Bring-a-Trailer by its owner, who commissioned the Workshop 5001 project at the urging of friend and factory Porsche driver (and Luftgekuhlt co-founder) Patrick Long. The car itself was taken down to bare metal, then fitted with a hot-rod 3.4-liter engine with twin-plug heads, modern Motec engine management, custom pistons, rods and much more for a total of around 305 hp. That’s roughly 50-percent more grunt than the donor 3.2-liter engine made and nearly three times what the car’s original 2.4-liter engine would have produced.

The chassis has been stich-welded for the benefit of torsional rigidity, just like a race car, and KW coilovers replace the car’s original torsion bars. A carbon fiber roof replaced the donor car’s steel sunroof-type original and the brakes have been uprated to remain consistent with the car’s newfound power. Perfect little details are everywhere and represent a combination of input from both Goldberg and the car’s owner: tartan-pattern seats, a mil-spec wiring harness, painted steel wheels, and an ever-appropriate Momo Prototipo steering wheel, recovered to match other interior stitching elements. Even essentials like the mounts for the car’s three oil coolers are finished to an astounding level of quality. There’s nary a system on the car that hasn’t received the Workshop 5001 touch in some unique way.

“We don’t want to create an assembly line of cookie-cutter hot-rod 911s,” says Marlon. “You know, pick your colors, pick which kind of carpet you want, pick your stickers, and we’ll call you when it’s done. Our process is a lot more personalized and clients are involved in many more steps of the build. It’s a much more creative process.”

On the road, Number 1 is a thrill to drive – that classic “long-hood” profile cutting its way through the air as we charge through the hills. Throws are short, heavy, and utterly positive from the long-levered 915 transmission and the steering is gleefully active and alive, just as a vintage 911’s should be, writhing in my hands as it telegraphs details of Latigo’s road surface. Despite the chassis’ hard-core stitch welding and coilover suspension, the car is composed – even comfortable on these imperfect canyon roads. The vintage-style sport bucket seats are also easy to live with, though not quite as supportive as a racier option.

Meanwhile, the 3.4 churns out a soundtrack of air-cooled cacophony and suddenly I’m Vic Elford, slicing my way through the Sicilian hills in the Targa Florio. Except that I’m not and this half-million-dollar, heirloom-quality re-think of what a 911 can be needs to be delivered back to its owner without a scratch.

Later, I catch a ride with Goldberg in the blue Number 2. This car is built on a ’74 G-series 911 Carrera (originally with a Sportomatic transmission!) and to an even wilder spec than Number 1, for a client with an autocross and track focus. The seats are narrow race buckets with five-point harnesses, while the interior is largely stripped of any creature comforts. The engine is a 3.6-liter mill from a 964, bored out to 3.8-liters with RSR-spec pistons and plenty of other tricks including Motec engine management. Ohlins coilovers are found underneath and the highly adjustable (for wheelbase and track) front end is essentially of Porsche 935 race car-type. A roll cage and stitch welding keeps the chassis tight.

There’s a world of difference between Grey and Blue; this racier build feels like it’s 90-percent race car and just 10 percent road machine. The flared fenders hide ultra-wide Pirelli Trofeo R tires and grip is no doubt massive – Goldberg is driving at maybe 7/10ths and the speed is already huge. The sensation is multiplied by the car’s lack of sound deadening – you hear this Porsche working hard, from the rocks and gravel that bounce off the car’s underside, to the flat-six’s banshee wail ricocheting off the canyon walls. It looks like it requires some work to drive, as you could argue a vintage 911 racer should. With the challenge and the risk, comes the reward.

The reward, of course, makes it all worthwhile, as Marlon Goldberg will attest.

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