#Epic Delicacies

[epicstoriestime]

Galactic Gastronomy: A Cosmic Culinary Journey

🌌✨ Embark on a cosmic culinary journey with the alien voyager as they craft epic dishes inspired by their intergalactic travels. From Nebula Noodles to Interstellar Ice Cream Sundaes, these delicacies blend earthly ingredients with celestial inspirations, taking your taste buds on an unforgettable adventure. 🚀🍽️ #GalacticGastronomy #CosmicCulinaryJourney #EpicFlavors #TasteTheCosmos #InterstellarDelights

What foods would you like to make?   As the an alien voyager, my cosmic journey has granted me the opportunity to explore various planets and experience a myriad of cuisines from different civilizations. However, there are still some earthly delights I would love to create in my intergalactic kitchen. Join me as I share the epic fusion of flavors that I would like to bring to life:   1.…

[cipheramnesia]

Hmm, not to detract from the absolutely wild display of racism and transphobia and general out of control bigotry directed at Imane Khelif from the radical feminism peanut gallery or nothing. But and however.

The rush in progressive spaces to attribute characteristics to her, like elevated testosterone and/or being intersex, speaks to a need for better nuance and delicacy on our end. It's complicated because we want to support intersex people against the appalling amount of institutional and general violence and disenfranchisement they experience. And knowing the way hormone levels vary from person is important in understanding how sex and gender aren't nearly as binary as most people assume. The general intentions were good, and shouldn't be discouraged. More like, just that we ought to take a minute to figure out if we know what we're talking about.

Because on the other side of the radfem peanut gallery is rushing in to assume personal information we don't know, but which we accept as contributing to her abilities and appearance. That is to say, there are unexamined racial and intersexist biases underlying the unspoken consensus that her body was somehow uniquely different that it needed to be explained by something other than "this is how people who train extensively for the sport of boxing tend to look."

That doesn't preclude her being intersex or whatnot, only that the foundation of the radfem argument rests on "this woman's appearance is deviant," in ways connecting back to racism and attitudes towards intersex bodies. And when we inadvertently buy into the foundational premise of their bigotry, we also inadvertently perpetuate the inherent bigotry in the assumption, by responding with "that deviant body of a woman of color is intersex."

Anyway, the point I'm trying to get around to here is Imane Khelif looks like a boxer. She's tall and has the kind of muscles a boxer has, regardless of hormones or being intersex or race or anything else. Being intersex comes in many shapes of bodies, the same as perisex bodies. But assuming a body must be intersex because we feel like it confirms deep rooted prejudice about what intersex bodies are is also an expression of that bias.

These things are rife with complications built on centuries of prejudice and systemic oppression, and there will never be a way to talk about it that's simple, perfectly true forever, and easy. It means sometimes we have to take a frustrating amount of time to try and unpack what's happening, and maybe even not say anything at all but probably also try to resist too many epic slams on terfs that are like inadvertently slamming our other disenfranchised groups, basically. I think. I'm not sure I did this very well either. But those undercurrents of bias affect us so like... be mindful and try to be kind.

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Pina Pellicer (One Eyed Jacks)—taken from us too soon, she was only in five movies! in one eyed jacks with Marlon Brando she has such an incredible quality of delicacy— you are so so aware of how fucking young her character is, and how excited she is to grow up and get married but how much she still needs her mom’s comfort. incredible turn here, i love brando but she’s so much fun to watch.

Raquel Welch (Bedazzled, One Million Years B.C.)—While mostly known in the 70s, started in the 60s and was a bombshell of epic proportions

This is round 1 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[no additional propaganda submitted]

[toxintouch]

Hyperspecific Leander Fluff Headcanons:

sleepy time themed bc I am supposed to be asleep

[They pronouns used.]

He loves to bring his partner breakfast in bed. It honestly might be more for him than for them; he loves it that much.

It's not an every morning thing. (Unless??) There's an element of surprise to it - he will sneak away at some unholy hour of the morning to prepare/obtain everything.

He knows all the best hidden delicacies and can always miraculously get something prepared at odd times of the night/morning. He's just a nice, normal guy doing his part to support his local economy! :)

(He'd be more keen on making breakfast (or other meals) himself if he's cooking with his partner. He'd enjoy the domesticity of helping them cook/bake if that's their hobby, or would love learning alongside them if they showed an interest.)

Breakfast in bed tends to happen more often if he was taking care of Bloodhound business all night and didn't get to sleep ("sleep" - does he ever even sleep?) next to them.

Loves being the one to wake them up in general, even if it's not a breakfast in bed type of morning. :)

Getting to see them all sleepy and unguarded and adorable is priceless for him.

Secretly loves it even more if they are slow to wake or grouchy first thing in the morning because that means he gets to dote on them and/or gently coax them awake with cuddles and kisses all over their face.

(If they are really grouchy: 🥺🥺 Is there anything he could offer that might make them more happy to wake up? 🥺🥺 😏)

On that note, he is completely unfazed by morning breath. It simply doesn't exist to him. They don't want to kiss him because of morning breath?? Invalid argument, he doesn't even know what that is.

(He's a morning person. Also a night owl. Also very active in the afternoon. Seriously, does he ever sleep?)

Even if he's staying up whereas they're going to bed, he always walks them to their room. Will excuse himself from whatever he is talking about with his Bloodhounds just to kiss them goodnight.

If he was away and thus didn't escort them to bed and wish them goodnight himself, he'll ask around regarding when they were seen heading to sleep. That way, he knows when is a good time to wake them up! He can't have them undersleeping, after all. (Man's a hypocrite.)

(Or, if they wake up at the same time every day, he'll adjust his schedule to accommodate.)

Crowds his parter when they are doing their nighttime routine. Always trying to hug them around the waist when they are brushing their teeth, etc. They come up from rinsing their facewash off and he's there behind them like a jumpscare.

Endless chatter while they get ready for bed unless they can quiet him down with some form of affection. Chatter will continue as he tucks them in.

Except... as their relationship progresses, he'll stick around on nights where he's feeling more burnt out needy quiet. He'll go in for an embrace and not let go... then transition into a gentle sway. The two of them end up doing a kind of mindless slow dance, if they allow it. Mentally, he's worn out but physically he's still restless. Hopefully they'll indulge him for a while?

Absolute worst at telling bedtime stories. He's too much of a showman. He'll turn the shortest little fable into a sprawling epic. Will act out the parts like he's in a play and/or make tiny magic illusions. It will be an hour(s) long affair. Worse, they won't even notice time passing because he's such a compelling storyteller. Always manages to put a fresh spin on the tale in question.

Has a great reading voice to fall asleep to. But even when he's supposed to be reading off the page, he editorializes, changes the story where he doesn't like the source material -- more often, changes the story to cater to their tastes specifically -- , finds ways to add in anecdotes about random things/people, bring up shared experiences and inside jokes...

If his partner starts playing with his hair, he'll stumble over his words. Every. Time. If they keep at it, he'll quiet down and just enjoy being in the moment for a while.

You'd think he would want to be the little spoon, but nope. Big spoon so he can smother hold them to his heart's content. ❤️

Okay, maybe sometimes he'll be the little spoon. More specifically, he'll quite happily be the little spoon while they are awake - he loves having their attention - but as soon as they are asleep, he swaps to be the big spoon. He likes the feeling of protecting them while they are asleep. :)

He's impossibly good at removing himself from the bed without waking his partner. Doesn't matter how entangled the two of them were, he manages it.

[itseivwhore]

Biggest newS EVER that ABSOLUTELY MADE MY DAY AND I FEEL LIKE EVERYONE SHOULD AND MUST KNOW:

Just recently, scientists named a new genus of butterflies after the most famous, epic, superb fantasy villain ever: Sauron.

More specifically, their name is Saurona triangula, named after indeed Sauron himself, for their many eye-like black spots on their bright orange wings, truly resemble Sauron's eye!!

“The Eye was rimmed with fire, but was itself glazed, yellow as a cat’s, watchful and intent, and the black slit of its pupil opened on a pit, a window into nothing.”

The sheer contrast between the elegance and delicacy of a butterfly and the immense power and darkness of the most known villain ever. If this isn't one of the COOLEST thing EVER I SWEAR...screaming crying fangirling and sliding my back against the door and sitting on the floor

[greyias]

29. The smell of burning wood

Pairing: Gale x Tav (pre-relationship) Words: ~3600 Notes: Mostly self-indulgent fluff, takes place the first night of the game

The sun had started its descent in the sky by the time they’d found a suitable site for a camp and scrounged enough supplies and crockery among the carnage around the Nautiloid’s crash site. This close to the campfire, the sweet, earthy smoke that wafted her way managed to block out the acrid scent of the smoldering wreckage of the strange, alien ship that had brought them here, or even the lingering sulfurous stench of Avernus that seemed to cling to their clothes.

The crackling fire burned bright, the snaps and pops of the dried wood in the flames a steady percussion, as if measuring the progress of the setting sun. If Aravyn closed her eyes, breathed in deep, she might almost pretend this was any normal night on the road. But every time she did so, that damned tadpole would squirm anew and shatter the illusion before it even really began. Stupid bugger, not even a day in and she was already ready to evict it purely on the grounds for being such an ungrateful little guest. All impending threats of ceremorphosis aside.

After the quiet, terse, yet surprisingly delicious meal their resident wizard had pulled together from their random assortment of fish and dried rations, most of their ragtag group had retreated to their own corners of camp. Instead of withdrawing into momentary fantasy, she eyed the dirtied, abandoned makeshift bowls and plates they’d found amongst the carnage, and the retreating forms of her fellow adventurers with a small frown.

Everyone seemed more intent on setting up their own tents for however long they’d be here — wherever here was. They all had a lot on—and in��their minds at the moment. Much more than daily chores.

Well, not quite everyone. Over by the now emptied cook pot, Gale seemed lost in thought, brow furrowed as he piled discarded fish bones and herb stems on a ragged cloth. He’d spent most of their time in camp preparing their evening meal, and had yet to set up his own area. Mind made up, she set about gathering the dirtied crockery and utensils, making just enough noise to rouse him from that deep contemplation.

“Allow me.” She indicated the bundle he was currently tying up. “You already worked enough magic transforming these rations into a feast. The least I can do is the dishes.”

That summoned the semblance of a smile, his lips quirking up ever so slightly as the frown smoothed away to a friendlier expression. “Oh, trust me, my arcane prowess extends to more impressive feats than conjuring flavor from our meager scrounging. But I appreciate the sentiment.”

“You don’t give yourself enough credit,” she said lightly. “That meal was a sight more flavorful than any jerky soup I’ve cooked over a campfire.”

“I’m almost afraid to ask, but what, pray tell, is ‘jerky soup’?”

“Well, it’s when you get a pot of water boiling, then throw in a mess of jerky. You can tear it up into pieces if you’re feeling ambitious. Then let soak until soft enough to not break your teeth.” 

Gale looked positively horrified at the culinary abomination described. “Do you drink the—I hesitate to call it broth?”

“Of course! Waste not, want not.”

“That sounds like quite the… unique concoction.”

“You can say bad, it’s all right. I think it would violate my oath to inflict that particular delicacy on others.”

He pressed his lips together, either to repress a smile or perhaps in relief that his intestinal fortitude wouldn’t be challenged anytime soon. “It sounds like for the foreseeable future of our journey that I should maintain control of the cook pot.”

“I would not wish to give you more duties,” she hedged, “but perhaps that is wise for now. We probably shouldn't add gastrointestinal distress to the list of things we’re dealing with.”

“Grand adventures do rarely involve epic tales of food poisoning.”

“I wouldn’t say it was that bad — but point taken. Cooking has never really been in my repertoire. That’s probably not going to change much.”

“Come now, there’s always the chance to learn,” Gale insisted, “and I have been known to instruct a wayward student once or twice in my day.”

“Have you now?”

“Granted, my apprentices, if you would call them such, needed tutelage of the more arcane nature, but! I am not a man to who would hoard knowledge from a willing pupil.”

“If you’re offering to teach me how to cook,” she threaded a note of teasing into her tone, “I am not sure I would be a talented student—”

“Please, I won’t have you downplaying your own aptitude. You had enough creativity to invent a new genre of soup, regardless of how…” he paused, as if searching his broad vocabulary for the most polite way to phrase it, “—uh, palatable it wound up being. I bet if you used more than two ingredients, perhaps a vegetable, mixed in the concept of spices, then the flavor would expand exponentially.”

“I knew I forgot something.” That elicited a quiet snort. “That’s the kind of feedback that would be helpful in the future.”

“All that and more.”

“Well, in that case, I wouldn’t mind learning from a master.” She gave him a smile. “Especially if it would help ease the burden of cooking.”

“Ah, but is it a burden to feed others?” Gale tapped the side of his nose as he gave her a wink. “Or just good manners?”

“Speaking of good manners,” she deftly grabbed the bundle before he could protest, “as you cooked the meal, it is only appropriate for someone else to clean up.”

“Yes, I guess that is true,” he conceded. “And in truth, I do appreciate the assistance. This has been… well, rather more excitement than I’d prefer for one day.”

“Hard to argue with that.” The clatter of her trying to stack their eclectic assortment of makeshift crockery with the cookware and pot nearly drowned out her murmur of agreement. “Not every day starts with ilithid abductions, crashing nautiloids, with a side trip into hell.”

The stack of cookware tilted dangerously as she tried to arrange it in one hand and reach for the dirtied cookpot with the other, and Gale rushed forward to steady it. “Please, let us not compound the day’s adventure with another crash.”

“I’ve got it,” she insisted with good nature. “Just trying to save on trips.”

“I have already added enough work for you this evening,” he grabbed the dishes that were moments from taking a tumble, “let me offset that by at least helping with transport.”

“Very well,” she dipped her head in acknowledgment. “I suppose I wouldn’t want to be accused of breaking Astarion’s new favorite plate.”

“Is it really, though? It’s not like he touched much of his meal earlier. Perhaps it wasn’t to his taste.” Gale added a few more dishes to his own stack for good measure, and gave a side eye to the way she easily hefted the heavy cooking pot to bear. “Are you sure you have that?”

“Oh, this? Yeah, it’s nothing. Really.”

“Are you sure? I nearly threw my back out when I was trying to adjust its position on the fire.”

“You just have to lift with your knees.”

“If you say so,” he murmured.

“I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“My back?”

“No—I mean, it’s your back, you have every right to worry about that, don’t let me stop you—but I was talking about Astarion picking at his food. The meal was delicious. Maybe he just has a weak stomach. As you said, it has been a long and arduous day.”

“Hm, do I detect a hint of sarcasm there?”

“No,” Aravyn insisted, perhaps a little too quickly.

“Well, a lesser person might hold a little grudge for the way he pulled a knife on you.” There was a knowing look in the wizard’s eye that had her snorting out an annoyed breath, especially when he added, “You moved on from that with a surprising amount of grace.”

She tried not to wince at the memory of the knife pressed against her throat, its sharp edge slightly cooler than the one in Gale’s threat to incinerate the pale elf threatening her. “Well, he did eventually put the knife away.”

“Only after you nearly knocked out his teeth with that headbutt—a very nice move, by the way.” The smile she tried to dredge up at the intended compliment may have come out more of a grimace, but he forged on, voice dropping to more of a conspiratorial whisper. “It’s very strange, but I couldn’t help but notice how sharp his canines are. Do you think he files them down?”

“What? No—who would do that?”

“I don’t know… Bhaalists, cannibals, oh, maybe he’s part orc?”

“He doesn’t seem to have the physique for that particular bloodline.” Aravyn set the pot down as they reached the water’s edge, the babbling of the river’s current adding a serene soundtrack to their hushed conversation now they were further away from the hub of the camp. “And a Bhaalist would have just slit my throat.”

“So we’re agreed, then? Definitely a cannibal.”

She quickly turned to Gale, letting out a hushing noise as she grabbed for the set of plates he’d rescued from their ignoble end. “You’re horrible. Stop!”

The strength of her plea was weakened by her half-laugh and wide-eyed look she tossed back towards the subject of their conversation, who could barely be seen past the large outcropping of rocks lining the shore. Gale let out a quiet, almost satisfied chuckle as he delicately set the plates on her outstretched palms.

“And yet you indulge in my salacious speculation.” There was a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “Perhaps it’s my charm.”

She shot him a wry, side-long glance as she knelt into the wet soil of the riverbank, spreading out the cookware and crockery to prepare for her task. “Might I remind you that you just accused one of our party of secretly wanting to eat us?”

Gale let out an affronted huff. “Are you impugning my character?”

“Maybe just a little.” She flashed a smile at him. “Although I should probably factor in that you were gentlemanly enough to help me haul my horde down here.”

He quirked an eyebrow at that. “This grading system of my character seems to have a lot of complexity to it. Is it a sliding scale?”

“Would you believe I invented it on the spot?”

“I might.”

“Well,” the brightness of her smile faded to something a little softer, “regardless, I think you have been gallant enough for the day. You’ve spent all your time in camp preparing us a fine meal and haven’t seen to your own tent. I’m sure you have plenty yet to unpack and arrange after the day’s chaos.”

Gale opened his mouth as if to continue a polite protest, then shut it again as he mulled over the statement. “I suppose you make a fair point. We need an area for research if we’re to be stranded here for any length of time, and my books! Well, what few I had on my person doesn’t hold a candle to my library back in Waterdeep, but still enough to fill a shelf or two. That I’ll need to construct somehow, come to think of it.”

“It seems like you have your hands full, then.” She made a shooing motion. “Go on, mine are busy with the dishes.”

As Gale turned to leave, an action she had very much been encouraging, there was just the smallest flicker of disappointment in her chest. Before he could take another step, or her mind could catch up with the compulsion, her hand shot out to catch his sleeve. She reeled the impulse back in just enough so that her fingers just brushed against the fabric, gaining a bit of a startled look back in her direction.

“Wait, I…” As he glanced down at her quizzically, she could feel her cheeks flushing and the tips of her ears burning, but she didn’t avert her gaze. “I just wanted to say. About earlier, when Astarion pulled the knife. You threatened to incinerate him.”

“Ah. Right. Not my finest moment.”

“No, no, what I mean to say is…” Gods, why was this so difficult? “Thank you. You hadn’t known me for even an hour, yet you still made an effort.”

“Well, it’s hardly the act of a gentleman to let some scallywag slit your throat, especially after you so valiantly rescued me from that malfunctioning portal.” The self-deprecating smile that twisted his lips now seemed more genuine than the practiced one that accompanied his more braggadocios statements. Like this was what came to him more naturally. “Not that my efforts amounted to much. You were obviously more than capable of handling the situation on your own.”

“That you tried means something.”

“I suppose that’s a refreshing change of pace,” he mused, almost to himself. At the quizzical tilt of her head, he seemed to remember himself and added. “Worry not. If things continue as they have, I’m sure there will be ample opportunity for me to be successful in returning the favor and save your life.” An awkward beat passed as he considered his words. “Not that I would wish more danger upon us, of course. But we do seem to attract… excitement.”

“Like moth to a flame,” she agreed quietly.

“Well,” Gale cleared his throat, clasping his arms behind his back, “I do have those books to organize. I suppose I shall leave you to it.”

At her nod, he quickly retreated towards the camp, and she let out a frustrated breath that threatened to become a sigh. Without even really thinking, she started to methodically work through the dishes and get them clean. Or as clean as they could get with the limited supplies they were working with. They needed some soap—and something rough enough to really scrub out this pot. For now, elbow grease would have to do. If she focused more on the rag in her hands, then there would be less of her mind to try to sort out her lingering disappointment.

She didn’t even know what she was disappointed about. If she thought about it at any length, bringing up the earlier incident was probably not very appropriate. She wasn’t even sure why'd done so, it was almost as if it had burst forth from her as if from its own accord. It had just made things awkward — and she hadn’t been trying to imply that Gale had failed in any way. She had just wanted… gods, she didn’t know that either.

The problem with losing oneself in a task was that each one had a finite end point. By the time she stacked the last dish inside the cook pot, the sun had shrunk behind the horizon, bleeding vivid hues across the sky in its wake. Absently she shook out the bundle of cooking scraps into the flowing water, watching them disappear into the deeper currents of the river.

They’d reached the end of the first day. Of seven if the more learned members of their ragtag group were to be believed. Seven days until the thing in their heads burst forth, ripping through their skin, burning up their souls and—

She shoved herself to her feet with an unnecessarily violent movement. No. No. She hadn’t finished with her task yet.

She carefully stacked the dishes inside of the large pot, taking time to inspect the structural integrity before hefting it to bear. She could count the steps back to the center of camp individually, rolling her feet so that the crockery didn’t clink too loudly on the trip, before setting it down in its appropriate spot near the campfire. Unfortunately, even if she dragged her feet, it only stretched out her distraction for another minute or so.

That was fine, everyone else was busy getting their own spaces prepared. She should do so as well. She'd already laid out her meager belongings in her little lean-to, but perhaps a little more organization wouldn’t hurt. The tenets of her oath had been placed carefully upon the bedroll that still needed to be unfurled for the night, and the slender neck of a lute peeked from behind where she’d stacked her armor, tabard, and shield for the evening. 

The lute wasn’t hers. Not really. It had been years since her own had been sold off, and this one had been found it amongst the wreckage on the beach. An admittedly useless item for a pack of strangers focusing on survival. While a fairly light instrument, it was still unwise to haul around extra weight that served no real utility. And yet, she couldn’t just abandon it to rot in the sea air, its song forever silenced like the countless bodies littering the shore of the crash site.

She wasn’t actively aware that she had dropped to her knees until her fingers were tracing over the nicks and divots worn into the fretboard from countless years of fingertips pressing strings against it. A few lighter scratches showed newer use — perhaps a child taking lessons, inadvertently adding their own marks.

Or maybe that was just a bit of imagination, or perhaps projection, shining through, she told herself as she struggled to swallow past a sudden lump in her throat. Though in her mind’s eye it was all too easy to see small, chubby fingers being guided along the fretboard by larger, more experienced hands. Perhaps an older relative, or a tutor. Index finger and thumb working in tandem to pluck out familiar chords to a timeless tune.

Its bright notes would be the same, whether plucked out by a small child, or drifting out the open window of a tavern. Her teenage self would have never risked going into one. Even taking just a moment to pause and listen to the full length of a tune would cut into her overly filled schedule. And yet her fingers would keep their own time, drumming atop the large tomes of mathematics and elvish history she lugged between lessons across the Lower City.

Aravyn blinked, out of memory and half-imaginings, back into her dirty, bloody reality on the banks of the Chionthar. There were no tavern musicians or traveling bards with a merry tune to chase away the dark thoughts looming at the edges — just her and the lute that somehow was already cradled into a familiar position. The fading light of the sun seemed to glimmer along the strings, and her thumb was already in motion, plucking the first string, her index finger moving on muscle memory as it picked a corresponding note that sung a crisp, familiar note.

It was brief, but just encouragement enough that her fingertips continued to dance a familiar refrain, weaving a familiar song. She could hear the cheerful tune in her head, but as her fingers continued to work the strings, the notes didn’t match. Discordant and jarring, the thin threads of music tangled together, crashing into an unrecognizable and inharmonious cacophony.

“If that racket does not stop right now,” the voice of an angry githyanki hanging on to their last thread of patience cut through the camp, “I will end both it and whoever is responsible!”

Her fingers felt as heavy and uncoordinated as those sour sounds, and the lute was quickly lowered back to her lap. Of course, some random instrument found in the carnage of the nautiloid’s crash wouldn’t function properly. Only a silly fool would think not only that but also that it would somehow lighten the heavy mood in their camp.

A familiar paternal voice in the back of her mind chastised her for chasing her own comfort and wasting time on such frivolous things, especially when there were far more important matters to tend to. And their impending ceremorphosis certainly wouldn’t be cured even if she could coax a festive song from the lute’s untuned strings.

“It’s time to put away childish things, Aravyn,” that echo from the past reminded her, the reprimand carrying the weight of a lifetime of failed expectations. She exhaled sharply to shake off the familiar, stifling sensation. If there was no time to indulge in frivolities, then there was also no time to indulge in self-pity, either. 

Even though her cheeks burned at the thought of the entire camp hearing that wretched sound, Aravyn couldn’t find it in herself to take her frustrations out on the lute. She instead forced herself to glance up. The fading sunlight cast a warm glow over her new companions, all of whom were engrossed in the rhythm of their own tasks. Even renowned musical critic Lae’zel had waited long enough to ensure the return of silence, before resuming the construction on a training dummy that was beginning to resemble a Mindflayer. Had she spent the entire afternoon attaching tentacles to the thing?

She shook her head. What did that matter?

Regardless, if Aravyn’s faux pas wasn’t enough to warrant anything more than a grumbled threat, perhaps she shouldn’t linger on it too long. With one last lingering glance at the lute, she carefully set it away, far, far to the back of her tent. Out of reach, and out of temptation’s range. Her focus right now needed to be on what tune tomorrow’s winds might carry. She gave a wry smile at the thought, hoping a new dawn might bring a little more harmony than today’s chaos.

[emmalovesfitzloved]

Can you tell me about Fitzloved?

"OH MY GOSH, AM I ABOUT TO INTRODUCE YOU TAYLOR SWIFT?!"

that's what i first meme when i saw your lovely ask! hahahah

Introductions

So its a fandom based on the epic fantasy series that follows for the most part, 2 soulmates, from their childhood all the way to their older years as they grow from friendship, partners to lovers. And I have to admit, the way it's written is almost euphoric. It's utterly lyrical.

So introductions now put aside, 'Fitzloved' is the ship name for "Beloved" (one of his many names) name of the characters and "Fitz". They are the two ongoing protagonists in one of the most respect and wonderful high fantasy series ever created, Realm of the Elderlings by Robin Hobb. They are the main couple shall we say that span the 16 book series. I think a lot describe it as the "mona lisa of fantasy series" within the genre. It's aesthetic is very much evermore meets folklore meets Merlin. Its veryyyyy cozy fantasy and perfect for the season but also the Fall/winter.

The big 5 writers of fantasy rn i have been told are: Brandon's, Robin Hobb's, GRRM (Although he's lost a lot of respect in the community because of his insane hiatus!), Steven Erickson's (Malazan series) and Joe Abercrombie. While you will see with the Cosmere, Brandon is very much straight to the point, prioritises fights, magic system building and very cohesive ensamble casts. Unlike her peers, Robin Hobb on the other hand, is a delicacy. A slowly made dessert that has sweet and salty tastes if you will. And another defining feature is that her series does not involve a massive war at the epicentre of the fantasy plot, which ironically is rare in high fantasy now a days.

Of Cats and Closed Doors by @tragediegh

HOWEVER. The WAY in which i was introduced to this series is kind of dumb and silly, i.e. very me lol. i stumbled across a fiction on ao3 under 'in a the cabin era way' tag and stumbled across @tragediegh's soul-binding, amazing wonderful fiction called Of Cats and Closed Doors that is still ongoing and she updates mostly weekly! At first, not joking i thought it was an original work, but only well into crying, loving, reading, laughing, did i realise when i looked better at the tags it was actually based on ROTE lol. I was new to ao3 that's my only defence :P

And what @tragediegh and Hobb are doing probably tell from my handle, is make literally my roman empire. Like I reread chapters everyday before going to sleep. It's fr fr my safe space. and what i love is the maturity in which they both write, as they create stakes in different ways. She creates a very tangible atmosphere, a world you can touch, the foods cooked, how they smell, and what the character's rely on. From banquet halls, to the wood carvings the Fool leaves behind, the well lit fireplaces, mugs of ale and coffee on the table, through jewels adorned, to how the dragons gleaming like jewels in the sky… it's simply amazing. You get me. There is NEVER a moment where you feel like it's a slog or dull moment. Like I did sometimes while reading the Stormlight Archive or Outlander (those books in their defence, are longer individually).

And like I said, the thing I LOVE the most with how they make us and fall in love with Fool (one of the protagonists) through the eyes of naive and a socially sometimes challenged Fitz. Fitz himself, is the most passionate, handsome, humble hero i've ever read. He is a bastard prince who from day 0 was neglected, abused, unwanted, un-named, manipulated, gaslit just all around most traumatised character one could read. Which most people end up overlooking and resenting bc he is riddled with insecurities (despite him being a hotttie hot chiseled smokie pie that everyone wants to cuffff) and developed unhealthy copying mechanisms that can effect the readability of the main series. Which is entirely relatable. I strongly believe the hero of Stormlight Archive by Brandon Sanderson that everybody loves, is heavily inspired by Fitz in ROTE. In fact I think Brandon said it was one of his fav series.

But really, the masterpiece of this world is obviously the Fool. When I look at the other characters, its a bit like watching a glorious puppet show - I can see how the strings are moving and what the puppets are made of…But not so with the Fool, he is an infinite mystery and creating a character like that is something I`ll never be able to get out of my head. he is other worldly. Put Tolkien fae and beautiful faeries to shame with his grace, elegance, mysticism. His story with Fitz (the other main character) with that @tragediegh and Hobb are doing imo is one of the greatest love stories of all time.

Gender Identity

And I think also, Fool (also known as Beloved to a special someone 😉) is a lgbtq+ individual, and their identity and how they chose to present and address themselves daily (and not address it!) plays a massive role in the ROTE/OCACD overall. It extremely realistic, how it's writen, where for the most part some characters are confused, don't know how to navigate the topic. Which isn't helped by how private and mysterious the Fool remains. But for the most part, is heart warming, as the gender fluidity of the Fool is openly accepted by his mate (YES MATE) with open arms as he accepts it, and it's got me CRYINGGGG as i type this fr....! These characters were created pre-2000's, which just goes to show how timeless these gender questions and acceptances really are i think!

Music

CANON FOR ME swiftie songs that are FOR fitzloved to get a feel r:

ur loosing me

my tears ricochet

invisible string

stay don't go

the lakes

mastermind (YASSS beloved go manipulate ur boy fitzieee ily)

dress (as of chapter 48 and beyond hopefully alkdfjalkdjfj)

and Fitz's song for me for ever will be:

i see fire live and in session by ed sherran (i just feel the literal passion that fitz has through this song not to mention the howl XD)

Conclusion

So yeah, I cannot recommend enough this ongoing story and series to you.

TLDR: Fitzloved is a ship i read myself to sleep every night and cry about how amazing they are XD

Feel free to ask any more questions about them or even my favourite artists that do ROTE work bc ngl this post was 2x as long as i included artistic work but it was getting too long so i decided to leave that for a more specific ask :)) As you can tell i can just dedicate entire evenings singing from the top of these crusty english rooftops how amazing and life changing these two silly beans are. I hope this was enough of a good overview of my love for them and why! :)) Hopefully one day you will give it a go, and i swear your life will be changed for ever ! <333

[thecomfywriter]

Why is nalia (crazy book gal ) so tea centric?

i fear i may have misrepresented Naila.

—

hey wyked :) thanks for the ask, jaan <3

First off, I love that you refer to Naila as (crazy book gal) 😭 GOOFY.

Secondly, it’s not so much that she specifically is tea centric. Rather, Soilailan culture as a whole is very tea centric. Specifically, broopasha-syrup tea.

Quick crash course on broopasha: it’s a Soilailan delicacy native to the blossom trees on the southern district. They’re cubes of syrup that grow in the hearts of petals and are magical enhancers of any flavour they are melted into. Morreial’s family has a whole orchard of them, and broopasha fermented into alcohol was considered a drink of the gods. But that’s off topic.

Soilaila is a very “tea society”, especially after the ban on alcohol by the Jervees. By default, everyone drinks a lot of it. Especially when it’s magically enhanced. Naila and a certain other someone are just a bit more enthusiastic with their tea habits.

I made a joke in the annotated copy of Throne of Vengeance: The Epic (that’s a thing by the way) where the comment said something along the lines of:

“What is it with all the Markum girlies being tea-obsessed? I swear, it’s a requirement to join his fanclub.”

I’ll find the comment one day and reblog this post with it. Until then, there’s that. Naila’s not the only one who chugs her scalding hot tea in one go and then proceeds to talk casually with steam coming out of her mouth. Someone else one-ups her by flinging the hot tea over the volcano and slamming a tea cup dramatically on the ground.

Literally, all the Markum fan girls are batshit insane (me).

Thanks for the ask, Wyked!! Now answer mine >:(

[hinacu-arts]

Tags That Made Me Smile 2023 — Part 2 (July-Dec)

[2023 p1] [2022] [2021]

DC

“It has come to my attention that you are, unfortunately, my favorite person on this planet.”

Wooing via Prank War

getting a toddler dumped on you by your ex’s ex

DP x DC

we can take care of ourselves #but we choose to take care of each other #peak romance

"what the hell does he mean by ‘I’m human but not in the way you're gonna like'?!"

STH

One Of Shadow The Hedgehog’s Top Ten Worst Experiences

Nurse "i better things to do than put up with your shit" Shadow

Shadow was programmed with only two purposes #to be the ultimate lifeform #and to take care of the sick 

DS:KNY

"I will teach you the homoerotic art of tenderly tending to your partner's wounds."

He's died. He's died and he couldn't be more happy about where that got him.

This is the Epic of Gilgamesh AU that no one wanted but I’ve had a brain rot for the longest time

OP / OPLA

Mihawks Dad Arc

Pirates - a profession not exactly known for its heterosexuality

hate cuddling

what is a rival if not a crush you’re mad about having

hints of zolu but can be read as platonic if youre weak

JJK

He flops onto the floor with the delicacy of a TI-84 CE calculator

Kugisaki Nobara And The Terrible Experience Of Watching Everyone Love Yuuji

That's right, I'm a Yuuji-haremist

gojo's unconventional mating rituals

AU - Nanami Becomes An Elementary School Teacher Instead of a Salaryman or Sorceror

Other

bitches, bros, and nonbinary hoes

Regro Burnedead also adopts Abyss Razor {mashle}

inspired by the snail slurping scene from the Lion King 1 1/2 {star wars}

Shenanakins {star wars}

obligatory tortoise and the hare joke {tmnt}

[gothicprep]

one thing semi interesting i learned recently was about the origin of aspic, better known as "gelatin abominations from the 1950s" among the youths, these things:

apparently these kicked off after at-home refrigeration became widely available. before then, making gelatin outside of a professional kitchen wasn't something most people could do. this thing that used to be a delicacy was a lot more accessible, and people predictably went apeshit with it.

the closest analogy i can think of is "imagine if they started selling foie gras at trader joe's, and all those ~epic bacon cheeseburger with mac and cheese~ things had foie gras on them instead of mayonnaise". maybe that's taking it too far, but...

[adventure-alex]

Japan's Most Epic Summer Festival! 🔥🎇

Hey Tumblr fam! 🌸 Ready for a thrill? Join me on a journey to Oita's spectacular Nanase Homura Fire Festival! This isn't just any summer event—it's a dazzling celebration of fire, water, history, and hometown spirit that you won't want to miss.

Imagine lanterns stretching for 2 kilometers along the serene Nanase River, casting a magical glow as night falls. This is the mesmerizing "Man lantern" display, a highlight of the festival. But that's just the beginning. The heart-pounding pillar pine competition will leave you on the edge of your seat. Watch as local heroes race to ignite fireworks atop 12-meter-high pillars, showcasing their incredible skill and determination.

And if that doesn't get your heart racing, the Bungo Hattenkai firemen will. Their traditional matoi performances are a spectacle of strength and coordination, culminating in a fiery dance that lights up the night sky.

The grand finale? A breathtaking fireworks display that transforms the night into a canvas of light and color.

But there's more to this festival than just the main events. Wander through vibrant stalls filled with unique local delicacies and crafts, soaking in the festive atmosphere. Every corner of the Nanase River Nature Park buzzes with excitement and tradition, making it a truly unforgettable experience.

I've captured every thrilling moment in my latest video, from the dramatic pillar pine competition to the stunning fireworks. Dive into the action and feel the energy of this incredible festival.

Stay tuned for some amazing pictures and the video link at the end. Trust me, you don’t want to miss this epic festival adventure!

Follow me for more adventures and unique festivals from the heart of Japan! 🌏❤️

[meilas]

Phantom of the Opera Wine List

Your wine sommeliers: 

@meilas: Concept, Graphics, Layout, Project Manager, Hadley, Barbara the Mannequin

@gwalchmedi: Franc D’Ambrosio, Norm Lewis, Drew Sarich, Peter Joback, Bronson Norris Murphy, Hugh Panaro, Michael Crawford, Jonathan Roxmouth, Jeremy Stolle, Barbara the Mannequin, Ethan Freeman, Peter Karrie, Dmitry Ermak, Earl Carpenter

inspired by @mxbuster: Uwe Kroger

inspired by @petittneko: Saulo Vasconcelos, Thiago Arancam

@devilswalkingstick: Cooper and triptychs

@when-it-rains-it-snows: Ben Lewis

DocTy: Alexander Goebel

Tina: Gina Beck

@from-aldebaran: Derrick Davis and proof-reader

@therosenpants: proof-reader and taste-tester

@box5intern: Christopher Carl

This wine list could not have turned out so well without the loving dedication of everyone involved. Thank you everyone for putting up with this silly project for so long!

D’Ambrosio Vintage Vintage 1962, best run 1998 Other nicknames: Cabernet Franc; Franc D’Amn that’s good!

Slither yourself down somewhere comfortable and loosen a few buttons while you steal a taste, slowly swirling your tongue around a luscious mouthful of this full-bodied, ambrosial red. Every note stays with you while you are distracted by its elegant looks, get reeled in by a silvery touch, and feel it gliding along your throat. As you swallow, a slow leisurely piquancy reveals a muscular body and delivers a prominent, long, full finish. A total god of a wine. Keeps giving satisfaction long after you have embraced your last glassful.

Bottling notes: The reddest of red wines in the bluest of containers, and the perfect precursor to pants-less pastimes. Comes in our most prominent bottle.

Saulo Vasconcelos, vintage 1999

An epic year for Brazilian wines, this timeless choice has performed in many a fine vintage bottle. A few tastings will assure you that this wine leaves you anything but Miserable, being a bit of a beast in disguise. Delightfully playful, sensuously hands-on with its flavour, and encasing you in its warm, chocolate tones, you’ll find yourself helplessly succumbing to its embrace. A proper, stern Daddy of a wine, this is one for those who like their types mature and commanding. De Nada!

Crémant NormLew Château Tallahassee

A first for a Crémant from this region of Florida, you’ll be getting a plethora of orchard fruits here with delightful baritone notes! Up there with the finest of champagnes, just enjoy how this Crémant gives such a unique expression of its appellation.

Peter Jöback

This fiery Scandinavian grape is a notoriously difficult one to grow well, but prolific once it takes hold, which makes this lovely drop of sleek Swedish red even more impressive! The acidity has a true, tenor register, a light note that is just right for pairings with other Swedish delicacies, I'd say. Very quaffable indeed.

Drew Sarich

With a very young feel to this Veltliner grape, it actually delivers a surprise that is a decade ahead of itself. This wine has a long taste on the tongue, sitting there like a kitten purring in your lap. Delightfully complex, this is a New York socialite of a vintage with a phantasm of aromatic perfume on it which is absolutely phenomenal. It’s fascinating how the acidity is so high that it somewhat devilishly disguises the wine’s natural sweetness.

Dreamclimber from the House of Derrick Davis Two pressings, 2016-2017 and 2019-2020

An astonishingly underappreciated vintage, Dreamclimber will make you abandon your defenses from the very first sip. A potent mix of smooth deep notes of dark oak ranging upward to a soaring sunshiney sweetness, the positive energy in every bottle offers sweet intoxication and will fundamentally alter your outlook on life. The dynamic and passionate essence of Dreamclimber elevates everything around it, so if you need to restage a meal, add this bold and muscular yet soft and sensual wine to your table. Want to stay one step ahead of the crowd? Catch a Broadway-bound dream of a wine and you can say you were among the first to realize its genuine and soul-stirring star power. Dreamclimber has the uplifting soulfulness to take you and your guests to where you long to be!

Bronson Norris Murphy Variety: Babygrapes

The very youngest of our vintages, this wine has brought out excitingly different comments from our patrons. Respected Voices talk knowledgeably either about its Wheel of Flavours, or enjoy a genuine Laugh about how this rush of taste almost knocks them over; still others amongst the cognoscenti talk about its delightfully Icie youthfulness and endearing features, or how a glassful taken at bedtime would counter a Snowy cold evening. One Purist anonymously chuckled that a grape as vigorous as this could be put in more than one setting and still retain its delightful, child-like boyish charms. Two stunningly dressed patrons, in Rose and Cora(l), admitted they’d been given a taste of this wine secretly, a sort of cameo appearance before its launch, and had felt the vibes of the overt rosehip and petal flavours long before it had become popular. The pair’s general consensus was that this vintage was young enough to Make It on the scene, although the coquettish undertones about vinicultural size and handspan were elusively enticing. The Vast Glassy Orangery was agog with gossip about some Baguette-wielding youth (and their noteworthy tailoring) having hugely overdosed on the tasting previously, almost knocking their socks off with its pale beauty and fragrant scents. Their partner in crime, a clear Persephone of a beauty, was wearing delicious couture from the House of ChristineGrrl, and the effect of this duo almost matched the effect of the wine’s heady aroma on the delightfully younger crowd. Suffice to say the vintage was a resounding success and its aura of vinicultural adolescence bursting into manhood held everyone in its attractive grasp. One worth keeping.

Panaro Prosecco

The elevation that every note in this charismatic, versatile Prosecco provides ensures that the bubbles in this Panaro Prosecco are so much lighter than in the flatter and usually insipid Chagny Champagnes to which they are unfairly compared. For me, there is no contest; crystal clear delivery, in a bottle with movie star good looks, this vintage delivers a deliciously singing bouquet, with beautifully crisp notes of apple to finish.

Michael Crawford, vintage 1986

Oh yes, this most venerable of English sparkling wines has a well-rounded palate with a hint of the most delicate, sweetest of orchard fruits giving way to deeper notes of Parisian brioche, with a hint of French kisses. French, I hear you ask - but did you know that English winemakers use the same traditional method that the French use to produce Champagne?

Jonathan Roxmouth, vintage b.1987, run 2011-2012, 2019

Not an easy Chenin Blanc grape variety to like on first encounter, this South African powerhouse has a drawn-out tingle which stays on your tongue, and wanders high into your head. The yearning feel to break out in full fruit mode is hidden beneath the complex mix of earthy, graveyard depths. You may feel the emotional and smoky hint of stalk, but a flash of strength beneath its velvet glove packs a punch like no other. Rox your Sox.

The St(r)olle

The smoothest of our wines, this will simultaneously quench your thirst and leave you begging for more. In parts of America, this vintage used to be obscure, yet when you taste it, you’ll wonder why.  This wine takes a confident, sassy stroll across your palate, its taste coiling a lasso around you as rock solid as Henry Cavill’s abs. Achingly rich and smooth, sporting lush, sweet toned, deep throated berry notes tinged with vanilla, it has suave yet elemental flavors pushing out from a deep, muscular centre. One not to be trifled with.

Barbara the Mannequin, vintage 1988

Wooden and oaky, this wine is perfect for poorly-thought-out proposals. We’ve all known at least one weird, dorky guy who somehow engineered a vision of a hot chick.  This wine is that chick.  Barbara is also known for its thin, acid nature, bolstered with a dressing that feels domineering, but sadly is only a foreshadowing of a disappointingly textured mouthfeel, with little middle, and an abrupt finish.

Hadley Fraser, vintage: 2 weeks old

A light dessert wine that sometimes forgets how it is supposed to taste. It’s not its fault. Really. We just didn’t give it enough time before bottling it.

Alexander Goebel Der Goebel Veltliner - Vintage 1988

Often overlooked and replaced by the Freeman, its direct descendant, the Goebel is the true original flavour of Vienna's best vineyards, planted and cultivated by the same London vintners that originated the Crawford. Since 1988 the deep rich tones of Dunkelheit in this wine have melted the heart and palate of real connoisseurs around the globe, who also appreciate the high Skan-da-lös and Maskenball notes that follow the first taste. Best served in the Original Cast environment (especially accompanied with a side dish of Nistler and Pfeifer) to highlight its most recognizable qualities, it is also recommended in its "boot" version where its taste is sublimated by visual experience to heighten each sensation.

Peter Karrie

Vintage with a distinctive voice. A commanding flavour, this is a wine both dangerous and elegant, one a chivalrous soul would offer to another, with a heart-rending tone, and an unparalleled physicality and wealth of detail. This grape makes the wine totally in a class of its own, with a wandering taste yet, by some rare and strange alchemy, with a touch of the rock band too. A bit of The Wolf in this bottle.

Ermak Syrah

Our only Slavic wine to date. Once phans sneak a taste of Ermak, they become avid for this imposing Russian grape. Its notes are powerful and bright, dominated by scents of ripe rich raspberry, and a touch of smoke that either comes from barrels toasted over a hickory flame or all that sexy heat. The Eastern European earthy touch, common in ‘Old World’ Syrah, is always present on the back of the palate, but bright succulent flavours mingle with those of hazelnut and chocolate. The tannins swirl like Rusalki across your taste buds, as smooth and alluring as Ermak himself.

G. Beck, vintage 2010

A silken, dry, red English wine with a strong note of blackcurrant. There’s a hint of youthfulness in its complexities. A wine so lovely it will bring tears to your eyes, as the taste conjures up the image of wistfully walking through a graveyard while crying about your father. Perfect after a day of tired feet from wearing heels and heavy gala dresses for too long, and with dark chocolate… or perhaps even Marmite on toast, if you’re feeling adventurous? It has also been blessed by a certain soprano’s tuxedo cat, because why not.

Tested and reviewed by: Tina, who was definitely in a country where the legal age of drinking is 17 at the time. She immediately bought nearly the entire stock and gave it a 6 out of 5 stars rating.

Thiago Arancam, vintage 1982

A total Batata Bonita, this wine from a little-known grape has been successfully transplanted from 13,000 feet up at Insosso Opera’s vineyard to the less stratospheric Sem Sal Palco Musical’s estate. You might call it a vinho on a budget mais fácil. With an early unmasking of a distinct brasiliaro flavour, this is one wine which ought to know how to show its range of notes, but sometimes just pales into insignificance.

Earl Carpenter

A strong bold grape should produce an overbearing wine. Instead, what we have here is viniculture’s version of a smooth Movie Star. Nuanced, sensual and gentle on the palate, it has a buttery feel, although on occasion this vintage’s notes are somewhat uncertain. Building up towards a taste explosion, too much enthusiastic sampling will find you too far gone to stop at the final reveal.

BEN BEN BEN Shiraz 2011

BEN BEN BEN is most curious; the 2011 is one of just two Phantom varietals that are easily acquired, yet rarely is it recommended. Best suited to the mad friends of Dionysus, this Australian Shiraz is a magic show as run by the white tigers:  absolutely beautiful, but whose idea was this? It cannot possibly end well… No amount of familiarity with the Brilliant Original will prepare the palate for this Absolute Beast. Expect to be dragged from delicately smoky baritone lows to peppery near-tenor highs; you may feel a little wide-eyed as you study the legs and ponder what that cheekbone is doing to the mouthfeel. Swooning is fine, this glass will pick you up from the floor, it is broad shouldered and surprisingly sweet.

A word to the wise: don't finish the bottle. Pour out that last twenty minutes in memory of the rare 2018 vintage, BEN! KELLY! BEN! KELLY!, of which no complete bottles exist.

Uwe Kroger, vintage 1964, 2006

Ye little gods, here was a tone with an unsettling quirky tongue to it, cutting right through the sweet fruit; an acidity, quite at odds with its vinicultural opulence. This lick of minerality which is just a fingertip’s distance away, is a bit old hat. Been done to death. Somewhat late to the party and overdressed too. It is easier to define what it is not – that is, it is not richness, nor fleshiness, nor texture, it is just there, this odd mineral flavour bringing neither a sense of purpose nor a sense of depth, fashionably unpopular, kookier and saltier than a bag of KP nuts, changeable without letting you know where it is going. And in any case, minerals, rocks and stones have no flavour at all. In Kresowy Slavic folklore, the “flavour” of stones is caused by an invisible substance called petrichor, which, according to my Russian-Greek-English thesaurus (what? It’s the only one I’ve got! Give me a break!) is “constructed from petra (πέτρα), meaning ‘stone’, and īchōr (ἰχώρ), the fluid that flows in the veins of the gods of Russian mythology.”

Gary Mauer

Are you married to your job? Just the wine for you! With a hint of sexy Dionysian wildness in its overtones, this sexy, vastly diverting and deliciously deep flavoured wine hits up hard on the brain. A sparkling good character with a touch of flair on its first taste, under all that joie de vivre, subsequent contact may make you come unhinged in the final analysis. Touted by wine snobs as 100% clean and wholesome in taste, those of us in the know greedily drink up the wicked taste and flavour, both of which provide a powerhouse duo, giving an amazing almost Elizabethan scent to the final mouthful. Having dashing good looks, this wine has a lovely tenor to its middle notes. While fairly standard from a non-specialist standpoint, it is sprinkled with touches of genius throughout; the distant whispered scent of a bridal bouquet of roses: so romantic. All in all, a great wine with a hugely masculine edge.

Ethan Freeman

A Viennese delight, this unexpected Rosé has distinct European notes, yet a brash American aroma. Moreover, it has a singing finish on the palate. A demanding Jekyll and Hyde of a wine, the duality of the fresh flavour of Oberhaüsen strawberries combined with the descending chill of the faint ghost of basement scents have resulted in a complex type of legerdemain that can be almost felt, not just tasted. Best experienced on hot summer nights.

Cooper, vintage 2014

Far too many notes for our taste, and most of them about this wine.  Just read this review left by a customer!  (We would like to remind everyone that we card any customers who appear to be younger than 21.) “A delightful wine, positively wonderful, just the perfect stubbly lad. Anytime is Coopertime. Also sweet.”

Christopher Carl

Looks like a meme but also 100% legit like a stock image of STOIC MAN (TM) sold by Hasbro. (Wine bottle and fine horses sold separately.)

[leahnardo-da-veggie]

I knelt before my God. “God, why did you call me here?��� I was but an acolyte, hardly worthy of His attentions.

God tilted his head to the side. “I wished to tell someone a story, and you happened to be nearby,” He explained.

I nodded, unable to conceal my excitement. To be called upon by God, at such a young age? It was unheard of! “I would be honoured to hear any wisdom from your lips,” I said.

His expression unchanging, God began. “Once upon a time, there was a boy. He had wealth and power, but he wanted the world.”

A story about overstepping your bounds, I thought. About the follies of ambition. Did God think me too eager? I had best be more humble. I lowered my eyes and bowed deeper.

“He plotted and schemed, seeking to rule. But a team of pure-hearted heroes saw through his deceits and rose to stop him. They waged an epic battle, good against evil, chaos against order,” God continued, not showing any sign of noticing my change in demeanour.

“Good almost won. Those heroes were indomitable, unstoppable. The boy feared for his life, for everything he earned. So he unveiled a great weapon, a bomb that would take out the world, for if he could not have it, no one should either.”

Ah, I thought. Selfishness. Pride. Two great sins. Perhaps He had seen me gloating over my skills? Yes, that must be it.

“He blew up the world, and as he did so, he discovered a secret. The path to immortality. The boy Ascended, and when the dust settled, he sat on a throne of radioactive stone and bodies, ruling over a broken people.”

God shook his head and closed his eyes. He had too few eyes, I thought idly, then cursed myself for the heresy. God was Perfection itself, the final form. It was not my place to critique Him. “That boy became a young king. His power grew endlessly, safe in the knowledge that his enemies had been vanquished.”

Carelessness, now. Would the king fall, betrayed by a trusted ally? Would his kingdom flounder from lack of tending? I listened intently. When God spoke, those who listened were blessed.

“Other kind souls, who saw the horror in his actions, took up arms. Time and time again, he destroyed them. Centuries passed, and the people stopped looking at him as a king, and started seeing him as a god. They forgot the story of how he rose to power, and invented a legend. They worshipped him.”

Idolatry! The worst of all sins. He would be cast down by our God, the true God. I grinned to myself, pleased by my deductive skills.

“He was showered in gifts and partook in every pleasure possible, every vice and depravity. He glutted himself on the rarest delicacies, slept with the most gorgeous men and women, killed those who so much as irritated him. His dominion was absolute. None would challenge him.” There was an air of resolute pride in God's voice, but it swiftly softened to his usual solemnity.

“The centuries turned to millennia. The young man still enjoyed his bed-warmers, and his fine wines, but he did not take the same thrill in them that he once did. The world had grown boring, he decided. So he entertained himself with the thought of gaining more power, the idea of taking other lands, other peoples, other worlds for himself. For a brief while, he felt whole again, alive.”

This must be about contentment, I concluded, not without a hint of panic. The story had taken so many twists- How was I to know what he meant to tell me?

“But time struck again, and the millennia turned to eras. He had conquered every galaxy there was, seen his very first struggle mirrored across the universe, and found his life no more fulfilled for it. His power was incomprehensible. Entire species would kill on his whim. He was no mere god, but God himself.”

“The concept of indulging his lust no longer appealed. Though his body was still young, he had seen too much to produce any interest in any merely mortal pleasure.” God sighed.

I was confused. What was this story about? I had missed something, failed his test. A bud of panic welled up in me.

“So the god turned inward. He pursued the works of philosophists, who were awed by their god's sudden interest in his work. He pondered on the meaning of good and evil, and wondered about the heroes he once fought. He realised he had been a tyrant and a monster, and made laws to make the world a better place.”

I gasped. Of course. This was about kindness! Forgiveness, and learning from your mistakes were both valuable teachings, so often forgotten in today's society. By putting us in the shoes of a heathen, only then could we truly understand the meaning of empathy.

“But even that faded with time, and as a final resort, he returned to his homeland, where he once resided. He hunted down the deathplace of his old enemies, the location of his former castle. And he wept for the very last time there, as the final shreds of his humanity died.”

“You see, he had been gone so long, so very very long, that the world itself was unrecognisable. Plates had collided and produced a mountain where his plains-home once was, the sun had turned a deep red with age, and even his people had evolved and distorted to become a new species. There was no trace of the world he once lived in, the boy he once was, the life he once lived. He, as he knew it, was gone.”

“And now, the eras turn to aeons,” God concluded. “And I wonder: What will be left? When the sun that was once his explodes, will he embrace it and end the saga? Or will he live on for all eternity, changing and changing and never dying?”

I blinked. “Great God,” I murmured, making the holy sign, “Forgive me, but I do not understand. What is the moral of this story?”

God did not frown, nor show any sign of anger. His voice was even as he said, “There is no moral, boy. Some stories are just that. Meaningless tales. Idle words. I never expected you to understand. Simply be grateful that you will never live as long as I will. Now go, and live your life. Love and make children and die, like I never got a chance to.”

Finally, it clicked. This was a test, to see my tenacity. He gave me a false fable, meant to bewilder me, and sought to see if I would still attempt to make sense of it. And because I admitted my lack of comprehension, I proved I was humble, and because I tried to understand anyway, I proved I was intelligent. Smiling, I got up and left.

God watched me go with eyes that had seen eternity.

The direct result of this

[baladric]

i think i have detected my writing hangup, and its that somewhere in here, i decided i had to somehow magically write earthshattering Literature™ and started getting upset w myself that i dont know how to tell a simple human story about, like, mundane real world things. two people meet, circumstance gets in their way, they work around the circumstance; or hell, why even write romance at all? why not tell a single characters story while they move through a rough patch? why do i even have to be so into fantasy? why does everything have to be an epic quest? why do i need dangerous stakes, like a world fraying faster and faster, or a callow emperor sending an assassin after his son, or idk dragons or what the fuck ever? "where's the delicacy," i for some reason started yelling at myself. "where's the slow story, where's the subtlety— where is the fucking nuance" and you know what? this is DUMB

this is a dumb hole i dumped myself into w/o noticing! it's dumb and i reject it!!! i like fantasy and high physical stakes and magic and stories about falling in love as a side effect of living in a world so much bigger than you! i like writing that's about love of the characters themselves and the act of writing and the joy of creating something, and i am good at that, and as soon as the words return to me, i will do that again!!!!!!!

[strayheartless]

The Words We Share:

((Authors note: I’m shamelessly making a kingdom hearts reference here because I can’t be arsed coming up with the entire plot of a children’s book. So you know, don’t come for me. AGSZC, and as always don’t like don’t read.)

“What are you reading dearest?” Genesis asked as he dropped elegantly down into Angeal’s lap; feet finding their home wiggled under Zack’s thigh.

The elder of the two simply adjusted his position and kept on scrolling through his PHS, while Zack grabbed Gens ankle playfully.

Cloud looked up. Marking his page with his finger. “It’s called, Adventures on Destiny Islands. My mom used to read it to me as a kid."

He'd been feeling nostalgic when he'd spotted it in a sector seven charity shop. The memories of curling up in the evenings with his mom - no bullies, no adults telling him he was a mistake; just the fire, a good book and his favorite person - washed over him. Nights when he couldn't sleep, or was feeling too upset to do much else than silently listen, had been filled with the colourful world of the play island.

He'd picked it up for for 20 Gil with the intent of visiting that island again just for old time sake, and now he couldn't put it down. Not when the kids were just about to discover their secret place!

Genesis hummed, always one to appreciate avid readers, no matter their taste. "Ah the cradle of childhood, My nanny often read me the classics in my youth, ode to Shiva, The mouth of Fenrir, it was quite the enducation."

"Of course thats what they read to you," Cloud Snorted "Didn't you ever read actual Childrens books? you know, like ones that weren't once epic poems."

"Those were more to Angeals taste," Gen sniffed hautily as Angeal looked up at his name.

Cloud turned his gaze to the man in question, now slightly invested in this rare chance to get some actual details on their childhoods. They so often talked about their friendship, yet it was uncommon to actually get any solid facts about how they grew up.

It was one of the more fustrating things about coming into the relationship so late. The three eldest were already so close knit that Zack and Cloud had to do a lot of leg work to gain even a fraction of their shared experience. But it was worth it.

"What did you read?" he questioned hopefully and Angeal smiled at him indulgently.

"Not as much as Genesis. He was pretty much always attached to a book." He nudged Gen playfully. "But my Mom used to read The children of chocobo hill to me as a kid. It'll always have a special in my heart."

"Oh man, I used to love the Chocobo hill books!" Zack exclaimed. "Mami and Papi used to read them to me like every night!"

Cloud Laughed softly, liking the fact that they all had memories like his. Reading had always been an activity that he and his mother had shared even after he had gotten older. To be able to express that to his partners felt good.

"Is it a common practice for parents to read to a child?" Sephiroth had stopped tapping away at his laptop, to look at them quizically and, if Cloud was reading him right (and unfortunatly he definatly was), with a certain level of sadness in his eyes.

Everybody hesitated. There was no point asking if Sephiroth had ever been read to as a child. They knew the answer was no. Making Seph feel that pain, more keenly than he already clearly was, was just crule. Yet they couldn't just pretend he hadn't asked a question

Looking around the room at his partners, Cloud could see that nobody else knew how to adress him. Distressing was Sephiroths default childhood experience, and quite often when they shared things with each other it could quickly unravel like this. it wasn't Sephiroths fault, and it wasn't theirs either, but there was a certain level of delicacy that they had all had to become proficient in when adressing his questions.

"Not everyone likes reading, so I cant speak for everyone on earth... but its a pretty common practice, yeah," He offered. As responses go it was definalty not great, but he didn't want to lie to Seph. "its... er, its supposed to be really good for getting children to recognise language..."

"Oh," Sephiroth looked back at his screen, eye's glazed over somewhat at the idea of yet another blot on his shitty childhood copy book.

Cloud looked at the others, desperate for assistance. Anything to ease the silver generals mind.

Genesis took pity on him.

Without so much as a word, he got up from Angeals lap, turned on all the lamps and the electric fire place, and then turned off the over head light. Then, boldly, he pushed the screen of Sephiroths laptop closed, taking it from him, and made the other man stand.

"All this talk of Childrens books is making me Nostalgic! Cloud, heart of mine, would you read to us?" His smile was sarcastic but Cloud could see the seriousness and concern in his eyes when he pushed Sephiroth down onto the couch next to Cloud; braketing the generals other side by lazily draping himself over Sephiroths shoulder.

Cloud immidiatly got the memo, and snuggled up to Sephiroths other side.

"I'll go make some Hot Chocolate," Angeal muttered softly, getting up too.

"Bring snacks too!" zack chipped in as he dragged the armchair cusions onto the floor and laid his head in Sephiroths lap.

Sephiroth opened his mouth, as if to offer some rebuff 'Really, this isn't neccessery, I am a grown adult now after all,' but Genesis stopped him before he could.

"Please dearest, let us do this for you?" Sephiroth's eyes seemed to water for a second, and he could only nod; relaxing into the little nest of bodies they'd created, and taking his cup from Angeal as the man re-entered the room.

Once everyone was situated and comfortable (Angeal on the other side of Cloud, with his arm behind Clouds head to pet Sephiroths hair.) Cloud Began.

"The heat of the summer sun always made Sora sleepy. It didn't matter where he was on the island, he could always find a good place to nap..."

[computer-knowledge27]

Navratri is a nine-night Hindu festival celebrating the goddess Durga It involves fasting, feasting. 🌟 Happy Navratri! 🌟

Navratri is a vibrant Hindu festival celebrated with great fervor and enthusiasm across India and by Hindus around the world. The word 'Navratri' literally translates to "nine nights" in Sanskrit, and the festival spans nine nights and ten days, dedicated to the worship of the Hindu goddess Durga and her various forms. Navratri typically falls in the Hindu lunar month of Ashvin , which usually corresponds to September or October in the Gregorian calendar.

Here are some key aspects and traditions associated with Navratri:

Worship of Goddess Durga: Navratri honors the divine feminine energy, particularly Goddess Durga, who symbolizes courage, power, and victory over evil. Each of the nine days is dedicated to one of her different forms, known as Navadurga. These forms include Shailaputri, Brahmacharini, Chandraghanta, Kushmanda, Skandamata, Katyayani, Kalaratri, Mahagauri, and Siddhidatri.

Fasting and Feasting: Fasting is a common practice during Navratri, where devotees abstain from consuming certain foods or have strict diets. Some may observe complete fasting, while others may abstain from specific food items like grains, onion, garlic, and non-vegetarian food. The fasts are believed to purify the body and mind and enhance spiritual practices. At the same time, special Navratri delicacies are prepared and shared among family and friends, including dishes like sabudana khichdi, kuttu ki puri, and singhare ka halwa, made with ingredients permissible during fasting.

Garba and Dandiya Raas: One of the highlights of Navratri celebrations is the vibrant and colorful Garba and Dandiya Raas dances. Garba involves circular formations where participants dance gracefully in traditional attire, often accompanied by devotional songs praising the goddess. Dandiya Raas, on the other hand, involves energetic and rhythmic dance performances with sticks (dandiyas) held in each hand, symbolizing the playful combat between Goddess Durga and the demon Mahishasura.

Golu or Bommai Kolu: In South India, particularly in Tamil Nadu and Karnataka, Navratri is celebrated through the tradition of Golu or Bommai Kolu. During this custom, dolls and figurines representing various deities and mythological characters are displayed on steps or shelves adorned with colorful decorations. Visitors are invited to homes to view the display, and it's considered auspicious to offer prayers and seek blessings during this time.

Vijayadashami: Navratri culminates on the tenth day with Vijayadashami or Dussehra, which marks the triumph of good over evil. This day is significant for various reasons, including the victory of Lord Rama over the demon king Ravana in the epic Ramayana. In many parts of India, effigies of Ravana, Megh nath, and Kum bhakarna are burnt to symbolize the victory of righteousness.