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noxturnalpascal · 1 year

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The Hunted

SerialKiller!Joel x F!Reader (8.2k)

DARKAU! POV will switch between Joel and Reader. This is dark compared to anything I’ve ever written before. I am a spooky girlie at heart and I wanted to give this idea some legs. If it’s not your thing, that’s okay. Spooky Halloween everyone!

Summary: This Ken is a Ski Instructor. This Ken is a Veterinarian. Well, this Joel is a Serial Killer. The canon Joel is actually kind of a serial killer too, if you think about it. But this version is No-Outbreak, 56-years old, and a Violent, Deranged, Serial Killing Loner. When a new victim practically falls in his lap, he doesn’t take the time to see that she could be his undoing.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI. This is a little dark (for me). Murder, Dead Bodies, Sex, Kidnapping, Bondage, DubCon (they want it but they’re tied to a chair), creampie, blood, violence, semen, crime scenes.

A/N: This is: creepy plot with porn at the end. It’s my first posted tumblr story. Spooky Season is upon us!! Please be nice 💜

He’s been enjoying the silence of the cabin in the woods all afternoon. The only sounds surrounding him have been the soft bird songs and din of cicadas drifting through the open window from the outside, and the rustling of his own body moving about the small rooms inside.

The sound catches him so off guard, that at first he looks around the inside of the cabin, trying to figure out where the hum could be emanating from. The cabin is not hooked up to electric, so what could be making that sound? Then he realizes it's coming from outside. He looks out the windows and sees a figure hunched in the bushes, a stone’s throw away from his front door.

He steps to the front door and quietly opens it, watching her at the wood’s edge. It’s definitely a woman, he can tell by the double braids winding down the back of her head, ending in pigtails. She is wearing dark wash blue jeans, a green jacket, and has on a rust-colored backpack. He can hear her humming even clearer now, the melody traversing the short distance to his ears.

He watches as she stays hunched over, reaching into the bushes and rustling the leaves. Nearly a minute passes before she finally stands, wiping her hands off on her thighs. He notices a small wooden bowl at her feet, stuffed full with berries. She is sucking on her fingertips, stained a light purple, when she turns and meets his eyes.

“Oh!,” she says, startled by his presence. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think anyone was in this ol’ thing.”

She gestures towards the cabin. She has a point. Even at first glance, the woods surrounding the cabin appear to be putting forth their best effort to reclaim it. The roof is covered in fallen leaves, moss and lichen cling to every surface, and the front steps - made of flattop logs - are sinking down, seeming to retreat back into the forest floor. And what he knows that she doesn't - yet? - is that the musty smell of the forest has permeated every square inch of the old log cabin’s interior, and everything inside of it.

He puts on his warmest smile, softening the way his eyes are squinted, and blinks slowly. “Yeah, she’s not much but she keeps me honest,” he says, and he notices the way her body relaxes at his gentle, comforting tone.

“I’m guessin’ I’ve wandered too far. Sorry, I didn’t notice any signs posted.” The gentle lilt of her southern accent hits his ears like a sweet melody.

“Yeah, state land ends at the treeline at the bottom ‘a that hill,” he gestures to the distance, her gaze following where he points. “But I don’t shoot or bite or nothin’, so don’t worry about steppin’ on my property,” he chuckles. He can see her continuing to relax under his welcoming reception.

“I appreciate that. I’ve got one ‘a those little vans in the clearing down there, ‘n I expected more people to be around if I’m being honest.”

He notices she’s said I, not we.

“It’s gettin’ the end of camping season, so there’s fewer ‘n fewer out here, I think,” he waves his hand, hoping to convey how little he even notices the campers on the adjacent land.

“Well I’m sorry about stealin’ your berries. You want ‘em?” and she takes a few steps forward, closing the gap between them, holding the small bowl in her outstretched arms.

The pigtails make her look young. So does the innocence in her eyes, which are partially hidden behind her thick-framed glasses. She stops short of the steps, still about six feet away now, still holding out the bowl.

“No, ‘course not,” he gives her a sideways grin. “Those were gonna get eaten by birds before they got eaten by me. You enjoy ‘em little bird.” His guts twist at the smile that breaks out on her face. The way she looks down, almost bashful.

She turns to walk away and then stops, turning back to look at him. He watches her as she gives the outside of the deteriorating cabin another once-over, and then looks him up and down. “Can I ask you somethin’?” and before he can even respond, she continues. “Is it safe around here?”

His stomach clenches. He gently furrows his brows, “yeah, sure it is, why?”

“I’ve heard a couple things recently about people going missin’. Hikers and campers near here,” she gestures in a circular motion with her finger. “You heard anything about that?”

She is worried. He can tell because she looks worried. God, every emotion she has is playing across her face right now. He can read her like a book. She is so vulnerable. She’s a young woman camping all alone in the woods and she is worried. She should be.

“I haven’t heard anything myself, no. But that happens every year. People underestimate it.”

“Underestimate what?” she interjects, her doe eyes scanning his face.

“Nature,” he replies, and now he gestures around with his finger.

He gives her another soft smile and blinks his eyes slowly. She lets a genuine grin break through her worried features and she nods, taking in his response.

“I wouldn’t worry too much, there’s no one out here to cause ya trouble,” he offers, hoping she notes that he is clearly not a danger. “Besides, if anything happens, you can come back here.”

This time her smile falters a bit. He’s pushed too far. She’s worried. She’s alone. She’s not looking to seek refuge in a stranger’s cabin. He backtracks.

“I’m sure the worst thing that’s gonna happen is ya find a spider in your van,” he continues, “But please don’t come back here for that!”

He gives a low chuckle and is glad to see she does the same, good humor returning to her now relaxing face. She gestures to the bowl of berries and flashes a toothy-smile as a thanks, before turning to retreat down the hill. He hears her call out a goodbye after she turns and he calls one back in response.

He goes back inside and finishes watching her leave until the trees hide her departing figure. He has about seven more hours until dark fully takes hold. Seven more hours until he can seek her out in the clearing with the safe knowledge of remaining undetected. Plenty of time for him to finish prepping the cabin and get himself some dinner.

*****

He thinks he might be getting too old for this. His lower back is aching, his thighs are on fire, and he’s had a stabbing pain in his neck for the last twenty minutes; all due to the fact that he has been hunched against this tree for over an hour. Usually he wouldn’t still be here. He’d have made some observations, taken some mental notes, and planned for additional reconnaissance later on.

But he doesn’t know how long you’re going to be here. You haven’t unpacked anything - not even a folding chair - to indicate that your campsite setup will be anything more than a one-night stay. If you’re gone tomorrow and he has missed his opportunity, he’ll regret leaving now. He has spent the last eight hours thinking about nothing but you.

He’s thought about the way your delicate lips wrapped around your fingertips and the gentle melody you hummed before you knew he was there. He has thought about the kind way you offered him the berries you picked and the way your jeans hugged your ass as you sauntered away. What would your eyes look like if he took your glasses off, if he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, if he wrapped his big hands around your delicate throat?

No, he has to do it tonight. He can’t wait any longer.

Your van is all black. Besides the windshield, there are windows only at the two front seats and the rear double doors. However, you have all the windows covered with blackout panels. Smart. You’re a young woman camping alone, keeping your privacy is a smart thing to do. And keeping peeping eyes out of your space is probably important to you.

You’ve been playing music inside the entire time, though he doesn’t recognize any of the songs. Sometimes he thinks he can hear you humming along. He imagines you’re eating the berries you picked from the bushes outside his cabin. Maybe you’ve changed into more comfortable clothing, maybe you’re sitting on your bed, maybe you’re reading a book. Maybe you’re even thinking about him. He tried not to make an impression earlier but part of him hopes he did.

He really can’t wait any longer.

He moves slowly, not just because his body is quite literally creaking, but because he has to keep his head on a swivel and continue to make sure there are no eyes watching him. He makes his way towards the van, choosing his steps carefully. His head moves back and forth, checking in front of and behind him, watching for any movement. The night is so quiet all he hears is the gentle wind rustling the tall grass and the constant cricket song.

He finally reaches the side door of the van. The music inside is louder from here but he still doesn’t recognize the song. He pats his pockets, obsessively triple-checking he has the supplies he’ll need. He pulls a small tool out of his shirt pocket and sticks it in the door lock. He feels rather than hears the soft click that he knows means he now has full access to you.

He puts his hand on the door handle and inhales a breath, holding it with full lungs. He closes his eyes and imagines what he’ll see when he opens the door, warm light spilling onto him from the inside. What will you be wearing? Will you look excited to see him? Frightened? Will you scream?

“Hey there little bird,” he says quietly as he throws the door open. Confusion falls across his face. He looks down onto the floor of the van, where a single bluetooth speaker sits, still playing music. The single overhead light from the van’s interior barely illuminates the inside, but it doesn’t matter, since there isn’t anything to see.

The inside of the van isn’t a camper. It’s an empty utility van. There are no seats and no wall panels. In fact, the entire inside of the van is covered in thick plastic sheeting, which vibrates a strange buzz from the reverberation of the bluetooth speaker.

He has barely taken it all in when he feels a pinch in his neck. He grabs at it with his hand but there is nothing there and before he can react further, everything goes black.

*****

You hear a couple deep breaths and then some grunting. Maybe this means he’s finally waking up. You walk around in front of where he sits bound naked to a chair, and bend over, hands on your knees, face close to his, cooing gently for him to wake up sleepyhead.

Standing up straight, you watch as he slowly opens his eyes, bit by bit, working to focus. He is blinking long, slow blinks, and his eyes raise to your face. His pupils start going big and then small, his eyes start rapidly blinking as his swirling thoughts begin to come back to him.

Then you see it - recognition.

He crinkles his brows, the crease between them going so deep. His mouth begins to form a question but only a short, dry croak comes out. You can’t help yourself, you laugh at him. A quiet, melodic chuckle.

“Sorry, I think I gave you too much back there,” with two fingers you brush some hair off his forehead that has fallen forward. “I thought you were fatter under all these clothes, but you’re doing alright for yerself there.”

His eyes fall to your shirt - well, his shirt - and then to his own lap. He’s just realizing he’s naked. Then his eyes trail back up your body as he takes in the fact that you’re wearing all of the clothes you stripped off him.

His mouth opens again but you don’t let him even try to speak this time. You grab his face and his eyes snap to meet yours. “Remember when I asked if you knew anything about those campers and hikers goin’ missing?” You drop your hand from his face and step to the side to reveal a folding table set up behind you. Along the table you have laid an array of different souvenirs he had plucked from his victims.

“You told me you didn’t know anything,” you continue, as you watch his eyes grow larger as they rake across the table, taking in the items he had hidden away in his cabin. “But honey, I think you know a lot more than you said you did.”

His eyes slowly come back to yours and you can’t hide the smile you now have plastered across your face. “I don’t-” he starts. You quickly shove your finger overtop his mouth in a shush motion.

“Don’t even try that honey, we’re way past denial now. I already found all yer little trophies.”

Now he flexes in the chair. Your finger drags down his neck and across his shoulder as you walk around the chair, circling him. You watch him continue to strain, testing the ropes, checking to see for himself if you knew what you were doing when you tied him to the chair. You did.

“So what is this?” he mutters, “One a’ them yer friend? Your brother or sister or somethin’?” He continues to push against the unforgiving ropes. “This some kinda revenge plot you got brewin’?”

You can’t help it, you laugh again. “Oh honey, is that what you think?” You place your finger at the top of his forehead and slowly run it down his face, “You think you’ve hurt me?” over his nose, “Think I’m your victim?” over his lips, stopping on his chin. You lean in and ghost your lips right over his. “I’m not your victim honey,” you whisper against his lips, “you’re mine,” pressing into him with a kiss.

You stand up and take a step back. “I know what you are. I know exactly what you are because I’m the same. Well, almost the same,” and you laugh again, breaking eye contact. “When I was young, my adoptive father recognized it in me n’ taught me how to direct it. He called it my dark passenger and I-”

“Y-yer what?” he interrupts.

“What?” You’re back to looking him in his eyes.

“Did you say your dark passenger?” He looks past the folding table strewn with his trophies and sees the ‘camper van’ parked with the side door still wide open, inside still covered with plastic sheeting. “Dark passen- isn’t that from that fuckin’ TV show? Dexter?”

“What the fu-,” you slap your arms against your thighs in frustration. “Don’t tell me you get fuckin’ Showtime in that piece a shit cabin. There wasn’t even a fuckin’ TV in that shithole.”

“Well I don’t fuckin’ live there sweetheart that’s just where I-” he stops short but just rolls his eyes at you. Then he gives you a look like he’s embarrassed for you.

“Oh well excuse me for wantin’ to add a little flair to this situation!” you yell out to the ceiling. “I guess we can’t have any fuckin’ fun around here.”

“So what’re you gonna do now Dex, chop me up and take me out to the ocean?” a cocky fucking grin settles on his face..

“Jesus Christ what’d you watch the whole fuckin’ series?” You look down at his smug face. He thinks he has the upper hand again. This motherfucker. Naked. Tied to a chair. Still thinks he’s smarter than you.

“You know how much fuckin’ work it’d be to chop your fat ass up?” and you watch his grin get wiped off his face. “Think I’m gonna take the time to dismember you? You? I could leave you just like this in a shallow ditch ‘n not one person would even miss you honey.”

“Then whatcha’ fuckin’ waitin’ for, huh?” He snarls, his smugness gone. “Get it over with, let’s go.”

You walk behind him and grab a second chair, dragging it noisily across the floor until it’s parallel to his own chair but facing the other way. You plop down in the chair and lean closer to him.

“I really don’t know how you’re still not gettin’ it,” you say quietly. You drag your finger along the ropes across the front of his chest as he lowers his chin to watch you. “But you are not in charge here.” He lifts his head and his hard eyes meet yours.

“Now… I’m gonna ask you some questions and you’re gonna answer me honestly.”

“And why would I fuckin’ do that?” he says calmly, quietly.

“Cuz otherwise I’m gonna call 9-1-1 right now. When they get here they’ll see I’ve done all their work for ‘em.” you hitch your thumb back to point it towards the table behind you. He sighs a deep breath and - growls? - under his breath.

You point to the table again and ask, “How do you choose your victims?” He shakes his head, tries to shift in his chair but the ropes are tied too tight to allow for much movement. You really do know what you’re doing. He still doesn’t seem to believe it, flexing his arms and chest against the ropes yet again.

“I don’t.” You give him a beat to add more to the sentence but he just stares at you with black eyes, mouth closed and tight-lipped.

“You’re gonna have to do a little better n’ that honey,” you gently coo. He suppresses another growl. You can tell that your little nickname for him is finally starting to grate on his nerves.

“That’s my answer,” he grumbles, refusing to elaborate, staring ahead at the folding table.

“Okay hun, no problem,” you reply as you lean forward and pull a cell phone out of your back pocket. You punch in the lock code and begin to dial. You type in 9 and you see him watching you out of the corner of your eye. You quickly type in the 1 and then hover your finger over the button, ready to repeat the motion. You pause and look up, meeting his eyes.

“You wanna call my bluff or you wanna start talkin’?” and then you smile as you hear jesus fuckin’ christ muttered under his breath and watch him spend some more time straining against the ropes. “Get it over with, let’s go,” you repeat his words back to him in a bad impression of his gruff voice. His scowl deepens.

“I don’t,” he repeats. “I don’t choose ‘em.” He sighs, and you open your mouth to protest that he’s still holding back but before you can speak he continues, “I just take what’s there.”

“You don’t have a type?”

“You seem to know everythin’, look at ‘em,” he nods towards the table where you have placed cut out photos from the missing posters next to the trinkets you found in his cabin. “Does it look like I have a type?” You remember the photos of men and women from all backgrounds on that table.

“So you just take whatever… whoever you can get?”

“Easier that way. Don’t have to go findin’ something specific.” He’s not making eye contact anymore, even though you have leaned in so far your faces are just inches apart. “Less suspicious that way too. Looks less like one person is pickin’ ‘em all off.” He shrugs, then quiets.

You lean back in your chair now, thinking over what he’s said. He’s been doing this for years. You could connect some of his souvenirs to known missing people but he had more items stuffed in his floorboards than you had pictures. So who knows how high his number really is.

“Is that all of ‘em?” nodding your head back towards the table again. His head is still down, seemingly very interested in a freckle on his left thigh. But you see a smile tug at one side of his mouth. He tries to hide it before you can see but it’s too late.

“Yeah,” he lies, unconvincingly. He doesn’t see you roll your eyes. God he’s shit at lying.

You raise the phone up and wave it in front of his face, showing the 9-1 still dialed in. “Is that your final answer, honey?” He lets out a big sigh, like you’ve spoiled his fun. That’s right, we can’t have any fun around here, can we?

“Not exactly,” he grumbles. “Camping season is short ‘round here. Winter comes on quick. I have somewhere else I go sometimes,” he vaguely adds. He doesn’t elaborate further.

“Do you have sex with ‘em before or after you kill ‘em?” you ask, not even taking time to absorb his previous answer. His head snaps up to yours, his eyes wide.

“What?”

“Do you have se-”

“I don’t fuckin’ do that,” he spits, face contorted in disgust.

“Yeahhhh. But that’s what they all say. And, spoiler alert,” your voice goes high and teasing, “they ALL do it.” His face is still tight, mouth curled into a frown.

“Well I fuckin’ don’t,” he looks back down at the freckle on his thigh, continuing to curse under his breath how disgusting you are for asking. “Killin’ doesn’t get me hard,” he snarls.

“Oh honey, I don’t know why you’re goin’ all shy on me now,” you coo, he’s still looking down, shaking his head now. “I’ve been in your little hidey-hole, ya know. It smells like fuckin’ loam ‘n body odor. I took a black light. That place is truly fuckin’ disgusting.” You adjust your glasses on your nose and continue, “I didn’t find a single cleaning product in the whole place. And now you’re gonna act like you’re not in there sprayin’ blood and cum all over the walls?” He doesn’t raise his head but his eyes meet yours under his eyebrows to scowl at you. You lean in till your noses almost touch. “A black light,” you repeat.

“That’s a huntin’ cabin sweetheart, and it wasn’t always mine. So I can’t tell you what yer little black light saw but it wasn’t me doin’ - that - with any ‘a them,” he nods to the table.

Now you consider what he’s said and decide if you believe him or not. He’s a terrible liar, right? Maybe. Or maybe he’s just been playing you this entire time. You don’t give a shit that he’s a murderer. Anyone would murder under the right circumstances. But sexual assault? That’s a line you’d never cross. In fact, most of the men you’ve killed have been guilty of it themselves. Pigs, all of them, who’d stick their dicks anywhere for a moment of pleasure. They deserved what they got. Is this guy one of them?

“Well like I said, that’s what they all say, n-”

He interrupts, muttering jesus fuckin’ christ again, and more curses follow in whispers. “Is there fuckin’ evidence that I did any ‘a that? Any… sexual assault?” he spits the last two words out with particular venom, speaking the term for the first time.

“You’re askin’ if there’s any evidence on the months-old decomposing body parts found half-eaten in the woods?” You poke the freckle on his thigh he’s been seemingly obsessed with. “Surprisingly, no, there was not any evidence of sexual assault found.”

“Well then, there ya go,” he grunts out, as if that settles it. He clearly doesn’t want to talk about it anymore. You can’t tell if it’s from shame, discomfort, or disgust. He’s doing a good job pretending it’s disgust. Is he pretending?

You try to ask another question but he is done talking. He won’t look up from his lap now. You even hold up the cell phone again but he doesn’t flinch. He knows by now you’re not going to dial the police. He’s shut down. So you get up and pull your chair away, disappearing behind him for a moment.

When you come back in front of him you sit on his lap, facing him, straddling his legs with yours. He looks up at you with cautious eyes and opens his mouth to say something - but say what you’re not sure. When he feels the sharp poke just under his ribs he stops short. He looks down and sees the 5” knife you have pressed into the soft spot where his sternum ends.

“I guess it’s time then, honey,” you hum. The hand not holding the knife traces the side of his face. He looks almost sad for one singular moment before his eyes turn hard and all the muscles in his face pull tight.

“If ya expect me to beg, you’re wastin’ yer time.” His pupils are blown wide. “Just do it.”

“How about you stop bein’ so bossy on our first date?” You lean in and kiss him on the nose, then the right cheek, then the left cheek. “Well….. Our last date,” and you kiss him on the mouth.

You press your lips hard into his and wait. When he doesn’t relent you take your free hand and squeeze his cheeks, hard, forcing his mouth open. Risking him biting your tongue, you push it into his mouth. Your gamble pays off when he doesn’t bite but instead pushes his tongue back and forth along the length of yours.

You wrap your free arm around his shoulders, bracing yourself and grinding your body down into his naked lap. You press your chest into his as your hand moves to the back of his head and fists in his wild curls. You continue kissing him, tongues wrapping around each other, lips moving sloppily across each other’s mouths.

You move your wet kisses down his jaw, mouthing at the patches in his graying, scruffy beard. You grab a handful of his hair and squeeze your fist, tugging gently at the roots. He grits his teeth and groans, attempting to buck his hips up.

Of course he can’t move against the restraints, but you grind down again, and you can finally feel that he’s gotten hard through the baggy jeans you’re still wearing. You let a low chuckle slip out.

“I thought killin’ didn’t get you hard,” you smile against his mouth.

“Who am I killin’?” he mutters, still simmering with anger at the topic.

Oh yeah, you giggle, your breath ghosting across his neck. “I guess I’m the one who it’s gettin’ hard,” you whisper.

You can’t help it. The anticipation of the kill is thrumming through your veins. It’s always like this, the energy, the electricity. Killing makes you feel more alive. You usually aren’t making out with them though. Never, in fact. This time feels different. You’re not sure why.

You lick a stripe up his neck, rolling your hips over his hardened length, and now he bites, nipping gently at your jaw. You squirm and the knife pokes harder into his abdomen. He inhales a sharp breath through his nose at the contact. You silence any additional protest by kissing him hard on the mouth again.

You pull back, face flushed and panting. He is looking at you with wild eyes and puffy lips, his hair pulled at strange angles from your hands running through it. Do you want to fuck this guy? You just brought him here to kill him but now you think you want to fuck him. This is a morally gray area. He’s bound to a chair and you have a knife at his ribs. Can he consent?

“Why’d ya stop?” he huffs out, bringing your attention back to him. “Are we doin’ this or what?”

“It feels kinda fucked up,” you say meekly, the first time he’s seeing any hesitation from you. You look down, twirling the knife against the rope crossing his chest. “It’s not gonna change my mind ‘bout what happens here ya know.”

“I didn’t say it would,” he says quietly, and you look back into his eyes. His eyes are dark, like fresh brewed coffee. They’d be kinda nice if they weren’t about to be on a dead guy.

“You…. you want this?”

“Why not?” he immediately answers.

“Because I’m gonna kill you after,” and even though you’re sure he doesn’t need the reminder, you poke him lightly in the ribs with the knife again, leaving a little red dot from the tip. He doesn’t react this time. He just lets a small smile ghost across his face and his eyes soften as they land on yours.

“What a way to go.”

It’s all you need to hear. You get up and uncinch the belt that is the only thing holding his pants up around your waist. As soon as it’s loosened, the pants fall to the floor, the belt buckle tinkling as it hits the concrete. You’re not wearing any underwear but the view of your cunt is obstructed by the long flannel shirt draped over you.

You take the knife and stick it in the edge of the shirt about breast-high, just above where you have the first button done up. You slowly drag the knife down the placket, cutting each button off easily with the very sharp blade. The buttons clatter to the floor one by one and when you’ve reached the last one, the shirt opens up a bit.

It’s just enough to see the valley between your breasts, a line of your soft stomach, the patch of hair on your mound, and your pink folds peeking out between your legs. You watch him looking you up and down, devouring the sight of you. His brown eyes now black with hunger. Now you can finally take the time to admire his body.

Yes you had stripped him naked and then tied him to the chair. The whole process had taken nearly thirty minutes. Your hands had been all over him, this grown man you had to maneuver while he was unconscious. But that wasn’t about sex. That was just a body. And you’ve had your hands on plenty of bodies. It’s not sexual.

But now…. now you can really admire him. He has a long and muscular neck, a broad chest, and freckle-dotted shoulders with strong muscles that continue down his thick arms. He isn’t very hairy but he does have soft arm hair, a little chest hair, and a trail of hair that starts beneath his belly button and continues down to a large patch around his cock.

His cock. Now you can appreciate what you were feeling on his lap. Why does it look so good? Cocks shouldn’t look this good. It’s fully hard, leaking precum and leaning against his stomach, his balls pulled tight at the bottom. You’re surprised to notice his pubic hair isn’t growing wild, it looks as if it was trimmed but has grown out a bit. His cock is both a little larger and a little thicker than what you know to be average. It’s not the biggest you’ve ever seen but that’s alright. In this context you aren’t looking for something that’s going to destroy you. You need to be able to walk later, you’ll have a body to dispose of.

You look back at his face and his eyes are meeting yours. You wonder if he can see the same hunger in your eyes that you saw in his. He’s smiling again but this time it’s not the same cocky grin as before, this one is genuine and filled with excitement. Your heart is pounding. You feel intoxicated. Is this the thrill of the kill or the sex?

Double ropes make an X across his chest, fastening his torso tight to the back of the chair. His arms and wrists are also bound to the back of the chair, causing his arms to be extended stiff at his sides, hands dangling towards the ground. Another X of the double rope crosses his thighs, attaching him to the seat of the chair, and his ankles are tied to the chair’s front legs.

You consider for one brief moment if untying any part of him would increase your enjoyment but quickly decide that’s not a good idea. Even if you might want his hands on your body, if you find them on your throat, it could all get very messy very quickly.

You give your shoulders a slight shrug and his flannel begins to fall off your shoulders, brushing down your arms as it falls to the ground. Now you stand before him completely bare. You don’t miss the fuuuck he silently mouths. Jesus christ what is this guy doing to you? You swear you just felt your clit twitch.

It is now obvious more than ever the effect he’s having on you, as your unobstructed cunt is so wet that the cool air hitting your thighs makes you realize you are a fucking sopping mess down there. Not wanting to wait any longer, you straddle his thighs again. This time you don’t put your legs on either side but rather rest your legs on top of his. Your feet rest inside of his thighs right under his balls and your ankles and shins lay on top of his thighs. This position is you going give you the best leverage to raise and lower yourself, since you know he can’t help with driving his cock into you.

You can see his arms straining against the ropes. By now he should have learned that they’re too tight for him to move but you think this might just be out of habit. He wants to touch your body, you can tell by the way he moves his head forward - the only thing he can freely move forward - and laps his tongue anywhere he can reach.

You grab his face with one hand and crash your mouth onto his, a mess of teeth and lips and tongues. With your other hand, which is still holding the knife, you carefully use two fingers to tilt his cockhead directly under you and you slowly sink down on it.

You both let out wanton moans into each other’s mouths at the sensation. You continue to press down until he’s seated all the way inside you, and then you pause to let your body adjust. He feels bigger than he looked. Maybe it’s been a while since you’ve been with anyone but this feels borderline painful. You don’t move up and down but rock forward and backwards ever so slightly, giving yourself some more time. He groans a little bit, maybe impatient but you don’t care, and you just smile against his mouth.

You feel your own wetness dripping out of you, down around him, and you feel like you’re ready to go. Pulling your face back from his, you look in each other’s eyes, almost tenderly. You put both hands on top of his shoulders, careful to have a good grip on the knife but not have it too close to his skin. You don’t want to be the one to do anything prematurely in this situation.

You start slowly at first, ignoring the quiet groans coming from him. He’s not whining but he doesn’t sound or look pleased with the pace you’ve set if the pained look on his face is any indication. You continue moving but grab his face to ask you good? The pained look immediately disappears from his face as his eyes snap open. He grunts and mutters a quiet it’s been awhile before he closes his eyes again, trying to focus.

“Don’t you end this early on me,” you warn. It’s a little funny to you when you realize that his punishment for doing that would be death. It shouldn’t be funny but it is. Probably because you’re fucked in the head. He barely reacts and just mutters I won’t between clenched teeth.

Your pace starts to pick up and you alternate between quite literally bouncing up and down on his cock, and grinding forwards and backwards on it. Each time you switch movements he lets out a strangled groan, clenching his eyes tighter. You can feel your orgasm start to build as a little ball of energy deep in your torso.

You picture what it would be like if he could put his hands on you. You take your own hands off his shoulders and run them up and down your thighs, careful to not let the blade hit either of your bodies. You run them across your stomach and up your ribcage, grabbing your breasts, the cold blade of the knife pressed against one of them. You cry out at the sensation and notice he has opened his eyes now and is watching you intently.

You throw your head back, squeezing your breasts, and bring two fingers to pinch each nipple until they’re over-sensitive and stinging. You look back down and watch his face, inches from your breasts, mesmerized. Without warning you shove one of them right into his mouth and he greedily accepts it, tonguing and biting your nipple.

You continue to move on his lap, driving his cock in and out, up and down, filling you up, hitting all the right spots inside of you. Your bodies are sliding against each other, lubricated by the sheen of sweat covering them. The sounds of your skin slapping echoes off the walls. The slurping noises of his mouth are turning you on even more. You can feel your orgasm now just below the surface. You know you’re close.

“I’m gonna come honey,” you moan. Jesus fuckin’ christ you hear him grunt beneath you, mouth still full of your breast.

You push yourself closer to him, pressed up against his chest, his mouth popping off your nipple. You wrap both arms around his neck and pull him tight, rutting hard and deep on his lap. It’s just there, so close. Then he latches his mouth onto your neck just below your jaw, and he sucks.

A white-hot release immediately hits your body, spreading from the core out. It hits you so hard that you actually scream. Your movements stutter and slow as you work through your orgasm, feeling your pussy contracting on his cock.

Seconds later you hear him against your neck, a long and drawn-out moan, as you feel him releasing repeatedly inside of you. You continue gentle rocking motions against him until you feel his cock still. His mouth is still against your neck, breathing heavy breaths in between curses of jesus fuckin’ christ, and holy shit.

You push yourself up off him using the leverage from your shins on his thighs just enough for him to slip out of you, your combined release dripping out onto his lap. You lay your head down on one of his shoulders, gently kissing his neck. At the other shoulder, your arm rests with the knife dragging up and down along where his carotid artery lies.

You sit like that for a while, both of you catching your breaths, getting your bearings back. You are vaguely aware of the mess on his lap you’ll have to clean up later. It’ll have to wait. You think that orgasm made you dizzy. You’re pretty sure your legs will be jell-o for a bit. You haven’t felt like this in a long time. Fucked out and cockdrunk.

He is the first to speak.

“Can I ask you a question?” he says tentatively, “before ya…. ya know.”

“You have a question for me?” you scoff, “I’m flattered,” which is true, even considering what you’ve just done.

“Were ya serious about doin’ this before? The killin’ part?”

“Well yeah, what makes ya think I wasn’t serious?” you lift your head to look him in the eyes just in time to see him roll his.

“Probably the part where ya pretended to be Dexter-” he starts.

“Oh my god I can’t wait till you stop breathin’ so I don’t have to hear about that again. I was just trying to- ya know what? Nevermind,” and you push the blade forward into his neck a little. It’s hard enough to pierce the skin. It draws a couple drops of blood but you’re mostly just teasing him, since you have no desire to clean five liters of blood off the floor of this rented garage. But you can’t help the thrill that shoots into your stomach at the way he clenches in fear.

His body relaxes after a few seconds when he realizes you haven’t pushed the knife in any further. He had clenched his eyes shut, not letting you see the panic in them. Now they flutter open and meet yours, barely able to focus, your faces are so close together.

“My question was somethin’ else,” he mutters, barely audible over the sound of your pounding heartbeat whooshing in your ears. You say nothing, just continue to stare at him wide-eyed, unblinking. “My question was… why. Why do ya do it?”

You are taken aback. Literally and figuratively. You physically pull back from him, resting on your heels back where his knees are. Your hands remain on his shoulders, one still clutching the knife against his neck. Someone is looking for the answer, you think to yourself. It’s almost sweet that he thinks you have it.

“I do it for the same reason you do it.” You scan his face, searching for that smug smile, waiting for deception to play across it, for something. For anything. It doesn’t come. He genuinely doesn’t know. “I do it because it fucking feels good, honey.”

He just keeps your gaze, nodding his head slowly as he takes in your answer. He doesn’t ask anything else or add to your answer. He’s just considering it. You get up off his lap and fold up the knife in your hand, dropping it on the floor on top of the discarded flannel. You walk behind him again and grab the pre-filled syringe you set up. This is the way you like to do things. Clean. Efficient. No stains or smells to deal with later.

You walk up behind him, standing so you are pressed to the back of the chair, his head resting against your bare stomach. You put your hands down on top of his shoulders, the syringe in your dominant hand tapping against his skin. He looks down at it and then tilts his head back to look up at you.

“Why me?” he asks. Not whiny, like most people are. Just a curiosity. Why him? Why did you pick him? Out of everyone in the world, why is it him? It’s almost romantic.

“I thought it’d be fun. I mean, it’s always fun. But I thought it’d be more fun than usual, huntin’ someone like me. Well, almost like me. I’m better at it,” and you tap the syringe against his clavicle a few times, “obviously.”

“Well you weren’t exactly playin’ fair, were ya sweetheart?” he says in an accusing tone.

“How do ya mean?” you ask, your eyes going wide, insulted by the implication. “You knew people would be lookin’ around and askin’ questions, maybe even the police.”

“Yeahhh,” he concedes, “but the police‘re idiots.” He keeps his eyes on you, watching you nod your head in agreement. “I didn’t think I was up against someone like you.” He pauses and then flashes you a cocky grin. “Someone smart.”

“Oh stop, now you’re just tryin’ to flatter me,” and you swat the syringe on his shoulder.

“I’m not,” he says, still smiling.

“Kinda seems like you are, ya ol’ flirt.” and you wink down at him.

“No, what I’m tryin’ ta say is…” and he finally looks away, staring straight ahead before he delivers the next sentence. “I bet you couldn’t do it again.”

“Do what again?” You continue to look down at him but he’s still looking straight forward, not meeting your eyes.

“Catch me.”

Now you’re annoyed. “Honey it really wasn’t that fuckin’ hard the first time. I highly doubt th-”

“But,” he interrupts, “I bet you couldn’t do it again.” His cocky smile is back, head thrown back staring up at you again. “You couldn’t do it now that I know you’re lookin’ fer me.

You push off his shoulders and walk around the front of him. Bending over, you pull his wallet out of the back pocket of his jeans laid on the floor. You’re gonna wipe that smug grin off his face once and for all. “Well Joel Miller,” and you read off his home address in Texas, “I really do think I could find you again.”

“Then do it.” His smile is gone. His face is expressionless. He’s just staring at you. “Find me again,” he taunts.

You drop the wallet back to the ground and sit down on his lap, almost considering what he’s saying. You run your hand on the side of his stupid smug little face, syringe still in the other hand. You lean your face to his and gently pepper his face with kisses.

“Honey, I don’t want you sufferin’,” you coo between smooches. “Yer gonna miss me too much if I let you go.”

“How long you think I’d have to suffer?” he counters, “Hmm? How long you think it’d take you?”

“It took me less than a week this time honey. So probably not long,” you continue the kisses down his neck.

“Then come find me,” he growls, stilling your motions. “End my sufferin’.”

You pull back from him. Fuck. The thought of it made you undeniably excited. You were practically vibrating with anticipation and you weren’t even thinking about killing him anymore. This was about a chase. An honest-to-god chase with someone that might be something close to a challenge.

He had a point. You didn’t want to admit that to him, but he didn’t know you were looking for him. He had no idea there was someone like him in the area, whereas you had begun to suspect last summer, and had spent the last year putting pieces together and planning your trip this way.

It did take you less than a week of moving around to different areas of the state land with your van, finding different places to camp, until you ran into him and his filthy little cabin. But you had spent much longer than that reviewing his victims, studying his patterns, and getting yourself into his mindset as best you could.

He has confirmed your suspicions that he moved on after the summer to hunt somewhere else. But where else? Where he lives in Texas? Another off-the-grid cabin? It could be anywhere. It doesn’t matter. You’ll figure it out.

The phone you’ve been threatening him to dial 9-1-1 with is actually his phone. You'd used his fingerprint to gain access while he was out cold and then changed the passcode to something that only you know. You can gather a lot of information on him from his cellphone. That will help and he doesn’t even yet realize you have it.

You already have an upper hand on his little proposition. You’re already outsmarting him.

You press your lips to his one last time and stick the syringe’s small needle into his neck, pressing the plunger halfway down. With open eyes kissing him you see his eyes go wide and then shut. His entire body goes limp under yours, including his lips. His plush lips. You feel his heart still beating strong under your hand so you take the time to indulge, holding his head up and stealing a few more kisses before you have to start cleaning up.

*****

Joel wakes a while later, how long he’s not sure, but the room he’s in looks very different. The van is gone, as is the folding table covered in trophies and photos of his victims, as are you. In fact, very few things remain in the room.

His clothes are folded in a stack on the floor in front of him. Next to them are his wallet and truck keys. Finally, there is a folded note stuck to his leg. It’s pinned to him with your five inch pocket knife having been driven into his thigh.

The restraints around his wrists have been cut so that he can reach forward to take the knife out of his leg. When he does, the note drifts to the floor a few feet away. He ignores the searing pain and blood now streaming from the wound on his leg and manages to work himself free of the rest of the ropes.

He moves to stand up out of the chair and immediately his legs give out, collapsing him unceremoniously onto the floor. He is free of the chair for the first time in - judging by the physical state of him - what has probably been half a day. With shaky hands he reaches out and picks up the paper where it had fallen, unfolding it.

In pretty, looping handwriting it reads: ‘Catch ya later! xoxo’

*****

READ THE NEXT PART HERE (THE CHASE - PART 1)

#joel miller x reader #SerialKiller!Joel x F!Reader #joel miller smut #Serial Killer Joel Miller #joel miller #patti7dc #pedro pascal characters #noxturnalpascal

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kayawolfhorse · 4 months

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Anywhere You Go | Read on Ao3

My piece for the @boatemvillagezine! The zine turned out spectacular, be sure to give it a read <3

—☾—

The sun is shining, the birds are singing, and the air is fresh in Pearl’s lungs as she slides open the van door and steps out into the small parking lot, gravel crunching beneath her boots. Turning around, she offers a hand to Mumbo, who still looks queasy from the bout of carsickness that’d struck him earlier on the road.

“Grian is trying to kill me personally, I think,” Mumbo mutters, holding Pearl’s arm for stability.

“If I wanted you dead, I would’ve been rid of you by now,” Grian comes around the front of the van saying, offering Mumbo a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.

Mumbo harrumphs, “You took that last turn faster than you had to and you know it. Why did we let you drive, anyway?”

“I’m a perfectly adequate driver, I’ll have you know! In my defense, I did not see that bend coming up—”

Scar climbs out of the backseat next, adjusting the tiny version of his scarlet top hat he’d insisted on bringing along, though his Swaggon attire had been swapped out for a more practical shirt and shorts combo of the same color scheme. Pearl admires the dedication to the theme, really.

Hooking an arm around Grian’s shoulders, Scar says, “Now, now, gentleman! Let the worries of our travels fall away as you admire the magnificent view all around us.”

Still sitting in the passenger seat, maps spilling out upon the dashboard in front of him, Impulse snorts, “You make it sound like you’re trying to sell them the forest, Scar.”

“Well, you know what they say, there’s profit to be had everywhere you look!” Scar hums, getting that all-too-familiar gleam in his eye.

“As your CEO, I appreciate the mindset, but you can’t sell us public land,” Mumbo points out with a laugh, straightening up looking significantly less ill. Scar shrugs, a cheeky smile on his face.

Adjusting the bandanna she’d tied around her braided hair, Pearl bounces on her feet. “Profits aside, we’re finally here! Let’s get going already!”

Earlier in the week, Impulse had proposed an overnight hiking trip, following a trail through the scenic foothills of the closest real mountain range, ending the day out by camping around the lake found in one of the higher-up valleys, to give the Boatem crew a break from building. The idea was met with enthusiasm, and just a couple days later, Pearl found herself crammed between Scar and everyone’s luggage in the backseat of Mumbo’s van as Grian drove and Impulse directed, Mumbo clutching the front of his pineapple-patterned shirt next to Scar for dear life.

After hours being stuck in the same uncomfortable position, Pearl’s more than ready to start up the trail. The others are quick to agree, and after packs are assembled, shoelaces are tied, and the van is locked, they’re off.

The woods feel like an entirely different world than the lot they parked in. Tall, thin trees with fluffy foliage form a lush canopy high above Pearl’s head, and between the trunks the ground is alive with brush, pocket-marked with fallen logs and framed by the soft brown pine needles of the forest floor. Lichen creeps up the boulders scattered throughout, and steep rock faces contrast beautifully with the greens of the plant life.

Mumbo’s the first to break the hush that had fallen over the group. “Wow,” he breathes, “just, wow.”

Impulse nudges Mumbo and points to a tree with a thicker trunk and hole in the center that, paired with the bits of bark surrounding it, almost resembles a mouth of sharp teeth. “Hey, look, it’s Treesa!”

Following his gaze, Mumbo laughs. “I see it! Could be Treesa’s cousin, maybe—it doesn’t quite have her eyes.”

“I knew it was going to be pretty, but I didn’t expect it to be this amazing! Would you just look at the shape of those trees!” Scar walks in front of the group and waves vaguely to the left, grinning.

“Uh, Scar, we’re surrounded by trees,” Grian teases in a deadpan.

“And they’re all beautiful,” Scar agrees, stretching out the syllables of “beautiful” with a studious nod.

“Oh, I completely get you. Look at this terrain! I’m getting so much inspiration for my mountain already.” Pearl wishes she’d brought her sketchbook with her. Such beautiful shapes! She’s determined to commit everything to memory to recount on paper later.

Scar and Pearl fall into step together as they walk, the path beneath their feet nothing more than a line of dirt trodden enough to be distinguishable from the undergrowth, laughter from Grian, Mumbo, and Impulse echoing all around them. Sunlight filters through the trees, dappling against the gorgeous landscape, and the conversation between Pearl and Scar is nothing short of gushing about every detail.

—☾—

The first three forks in the trail are marked with signs, and it’s easy to follow the arrow pointing towards the lake. The forth fork’s signpost, however, must’ve succumbed to the elements at some point, and now lays half buried in the mud puddle gathered on the side of the path.

“I can’t make out what any of it says, can anyone else?” Grian squints at the muddied sign, whose lettering has weathered away almost completely. After a chorus of no’s in response, he asks, “Impulse, would you be able to find the route on the map?”

“I sure can!” Impulse sticks a hand in his shorts pocket, only to frown. Checking the other pockets, his expression grows more worried, until he pulls off his backpack to root around its compartments. “I must have it here somewhere.”

Remembering the stack of maps piled on the dashboard of the van, Pearl sucks in a breath through her teeth and asks, “Did you actually grab it from the car? Before we left?”

Freezing mid-action, Impulse’s eyes go wide. “Now that you mention it… no, I didn’t. Do we go back for it?”

Grian shakes his head. “We’ve already been hiking for hours. If we go back now we’ll be trying to find the campsite in the dark. Should we just… follow the path and hope for the best?”

“It’s a terrible idea, but it might be our best option, and if that doesn’t sum up our group as a whole, I don’t know what does,” Mumbo agrees.

“Then it’s settled! Onwards!” Scar marches forward, before seemingly remembering that they haven’t decided which route to take. “Actually, which way are we going?”

Impulse points to the right, where the slope they stand on continues uphill. “The lake’s in a higher valley, it’d make sense to keep going up until we find it, right?”

With a shrug, Grian says, “Seems like a reasonable plan to me.”

From there, of course, it doesn’t take very long for things to go wrong.

Right over the crest of the hill they’ve been hiking over is a pool of sticky, deceptively shallow-looking mud that spans too far on either side to be avoided without getting tangled in dense vegetation. In their attempt to cross, Scar missteps and ends up in mud up to his ankle, his boot completely trapped underneath. Mumbo and Impulse manage to free Scar, but his shoe is lost forever, and the spare pair Impulse loans out to Scar is a size too tight.

On the other side of the puddle, the trail is notably not nearly as worn down as the rest of it has been so far, and after a while it fades entirely, leaving the group stranded.

“I can’t see anything!” Mumbo throws his hands up in defeat. “Isn’t a lake supposed to be big? Surely it should’ve been visible by this point?”

The part of the forest they’ve found themselves in is densely wooded, the trees close enough together that it’s near-impossible to see anything beyond the small clearing they’ve stopped to rest in. Paired with the slowly setting sun, Pearl’s suddenly struck by the feeling that she does not want to be here past dark, thank you very much.

Shrugging her pack from her shoulders, Pearl suggests, “I could climb a tree? See if I could spot anything from up there?”

The idea is met with mixed responses. “It’s definitely illegal, and stupid, and dangerous,” Impulse starts, “but… it would be good to reach a higher vantage point.”

“Oh, super illegal,” Grian agrees. “I’ll go with you, Pearl. We’ll make sure not to litter or destroy the tree. I’m sure the forest will understand.”

After leaving their bags with the rest of the group, Pearl and Grian set off to find a good climbing tree. The forest is predominantly made up of tall trees with narrow trunks, with their shorter, bushier counterparts dotted in between—nothing ideal for climbing.

“Oh, this one is pretty good!” Pearl says, as they come across a tree suitably large, with branches low enough down to act as footholds.

“Sure is,” Grian says, bending down to tie his shoe. As he straightens up, he tosses Pearl a grin. “Race you to the top!”

“Oi!” Pearl exclaims, grabbing at the first branch and hoisting herself up. The limb creaks, but holds fast, and Pearl reaches for the next. Partway up the tree, Pearl and Grian are neck and neck, and Grian sticks his tongue out at Pearl around the trunk, Pearl wrinkling her nose in response.

In the highest boughs that’ll support her weight, Pearl gives a whoop of victory, holding her hand out to Grian to help him up the last bit of the way. There’s no real place to sit, so instead Pearl takes to crouching on her branch with an arm around the trunk, Grian standing, holding a hand up to shield his eyes from the sun.

“See anything?” Grian asks, after a quiet moment of taking in the view.

Scanning the land around them, Pearl sighs. “No. It is quite lovely from up here, though.”

From so high up, the mountains are visible through blue-tinged fog, ringing the horizon like a crown. Rolling hills stretch out as far as the eye can see, and Pearl can just make out the rocks that break up the woods below. The cool spring breeze rustles the treetops around them as it does the loose hair around Pearl’s face, and when she inhales, Pearl’s surrounded by the scent of sweet, refreshing pine.

“Well, this was a bust, then.” Grian lowers himself, readying for the climb back down.

Carefully shifting her grip to join him, Pearl takes one final sweeping glance, when something shiny catches her eye. Turning fully towards it, she gasps, “Wait! Grian! I see the lake!”

“You do?”

“Yeah! Over there!” Pearl points to where the last remnants of the sunset sparkle over the water of the lake, mostly obscured by trees and uphill to their current position. “It’s not too far! We’ve been running parallel to it, looks like.”

Grian laughs, full of incredulous relief. “Sounds about right for us. Let’s grab the gang and get going!”

Feeling rejuvenated in their discovery, Pearl and Grian sprint to where the others are waiting in a small clearing, seemingly focused on the ground at their feet.

“Please do not destroy my shoes,” Impulse is saying as Pearl and Grian come into earshot. Scar, wearing said shoes, pouts in response, and Mumbo looks to be weighing the merits of the option.

“We found the lake!” Grian shouts in excitement. “It’s just beyond that hill over there!”

The trio looks up from the shoe debacle in almost perfect sync, which Pearl can’t help but snicker at. “You did? We’ve been this close the whole time?” Mumbo passes a hand over his hair. “I thought we’d have to camp out right here!”

“Don’t be dramatic, my good sir, have some faith in us! We would’ve been fine,” Scar assures. “Though, having an exact location streamlines the process, I will admit.”

“You were just planning to cut Impulse’s trainers into sandals!” Mumbo retorts. “You have no standing to be calling me dramatic.”

“My toes are all cramped! I see where Impulse is coming from, unreasonable as it is, but it would’ve been worth—”

“Fellas!” Grian interrupts. “We can keep arguing about shoes all you want later, but for now it’s getting dark and we still have a couple hundred blocks to go. Let’s get a move on.”

“Fair point,” Mumbo concedes, holding a hand out to help Scar to his feet. After Scar’s up, they’re moving, anxious to get to the campsite.

The woods beyond the clearing are far darker than Pearl expected them to be, and the torches are broken out almost immediately. The birdsong that had accompanied the daylight is quiet, save for a few stray chirps here and there. Even amidst the shadow, while surrounded by the glow of the torchlight and soft chatter of her friends, tired from a long day of hiking, Pearl feels safe.

Nighttime has settled over the land entirely once they reach the lake. Stumbling through thick brush, Pearl breaks through to the water’s edge—only to find herself looking at the campsite, tiny from so far away, on the other side of the lake.

“…Well, at least we found the lake?” Impulse winces.

Mumbo sighs, picking loose a few thorns stuck in his shorts. “There’s no way we can walk all the way around, is there?”

“We could take boats across?” Scar suggests.

“That’s a great idea, actually! I packed a few extra, just in case.” Pearl pulls the boats’ compacted versions from her backpack, setting three down in the water and watching them grow to full size.

“You’re a lifesaver, Pearl,” Grian thanks, climbing into one of the boats. Scar settles in behind him, and Mumbo and Impulse get into the next one together, leaving Pearl with her own.

Grian’s boat leads the way, and as Pearl rows behind it, she catches sight of the stars, reflected against the water, disrupted by the ripple of her oars. Slowing to a stop, Pearl lets her boat drift as she looks up to admire the scene, filled with more galaxies than she could count, the moon hung high above. Stars all around her, in the water and night sky, Pearl feels like she’s floating through the void beneath the Boatem hole, untouched by the chaos of the world above.

Apparently noticing Pearl’s inaction, Impulse’s rowing peters out, and she waves to let him know she’s alright. After a moment, Mumbo calls out for Grian and Scar to stop, and the soft lapping of the water against Pearl’s boat and rustles from the surrounding forest are the only noises to break the silence as they all take in the view.

They soon start for the site once more, docking against the sandy bank. Five tents are arranged in a semicircle around a campfire, and dinner is shared over it. S’mores are an irreplaceable classic to any good camping trip, and after a proper mess of sticky marshmallow and gooey chocolate is made, Pearl bids her goodnight, and heads for her tent, exhausted in the best way.

In the morning, the hike back is easier than the one the day earlier, and they make it back to the van in the early afternoon. The drive back home is filled with blasted music and recounts of their adventures, and towards the end of it, Pearl isn’t the only person to catch a quick nap on the final stretch of road.

Returning to Boatem, Pearl sets down her bag and immediately goes for her sketchbook, stored by her bed in her little starter boat. She has so many ideas for her megabase.

(Reblogs do more than likes!)

#hermitcraft #pearlescentmoon #grian #mumbo jumbo #goodtimeswithscar #impulsesv #boatem #boatem village zine #hermitfic #my writing #zines #YEAHHH BOATEM ZINE #i adore everything about how this project came out

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apocalypticvalraven · 6 months

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Delicious in Dungeon in The Kitchen

So... I was struck by the thought that I kinda wish some food nerd would go through the Dungeon Meshi dishes and analyze them and sort of give a "this is the real world thing they're making" run down.

And then I realized I'm a food nerd that can do research.

So.

We're gonna try this out, starting with Volume 1. I don't promise that I know everything about cooking. I don't promise I'll always be able to make the thing I'm looking at (I am broke, and I don't have my own kitchen). But I can at least look at a dish and figure out what they're doing and how to replicate it, at least sorta.

Dungeon Meshi Volume 1-- Huge Scorpion and Walking Mushroom Hot Pot

The two main components of this dish are the Huge Scorpion and Walking Mushroom.

Walking Mushroom

Looking at the images in the manga, Walking Mushroom seems to just... be a mushroom that can walk around. There are no organs, the interior seems pretty uniform in substance...

Like, literally, that's exactly what sliced mushrooms look like. Senshi cuts the mushroom into ~4" strips (judging by their size next to the small cabbage-like vegetable, and comparing those plants to his hand in the image of him gathering them. I am assuming dwarf hands are roughly the same size as human hands).

There's a variety of edible mushroom that is probably as close as we're going to get to the size of a Walking Mushroom, growing a cap up to 3' wide, but it seems to only grow in termite mounds in a very specific part of the African continent (please forgive my USAmerican, White education leading me to not being able to identify the specific region), so... if you can get that at all, it's probably crazy expensive (as it should be, unless you're literally getting it from the mounds or local markets yourself). Portobello or similar large culinary mushrooms are probably just fine. The Mushroom Feet are literally just mushrooms, so no worries there.

Huge Scorpion

Ok, so... there is a difference between arachnids and crustaceans. As a start, arachnids have book lungs and crustaceans have gills. Arachnid guts are different from crustacean guts, just because of environment. Hell, crustacean limbs grow differently from arachnid limbs.

That said, everything I see in Dungeon Meshi implies that, from a culinary standpoint, Huge Scorpion is a crustacean-

So, really, it's just a big lobster. Take a lobster, cut off its legs, antennae, and the tail fluke, and you're going to see something that looks pretty similar to the huge scorpion in Dungeon Meshi.

Seaweed

Next is seaweed, which... is just a thing, but also kind of an imprecise term, I think. Basically, "seaweed" just refers to any marine algae that is multicellular and macroscopic (big enough to see). Arctic Moss seems to be a real thing which refers to a couple things- the aquatic moss Calliergon giganteum and the terrestrial lichen in the genus of Cladonia, which includes Reindeer Lichen.

Reindeer lichen is edible, in a number of ways, but it's also not seaweed. So we look at Calliergon giganteum. I cannot get an answer as to whether this particular variety of moss is edible. So... fuck it, say Senshi used Reindeer Lichen, at least we know that's edible.

"Star Jelly" is... I don't know. The main result I find when googling it is that it's the sort of general term for various slimes that show up on lawns and other vegetation, etc. Which means it could be anything from amphibian spawning jelly to who the fuck knows what.

However, one thing it could be is a cyanobacteria known as Fat Choy, a commonly used "vegetable" in Chinese Cuisine:

Looks like jelly? Yep. Looks weird enough that you might imagine it comes from a star? Yep. Edible? Yes!

(I mean, maybe don't eat a ton of it, or get it from irreputable sources. At least some Fat Choy contains a toxic amino acid which may or may not have negative health effects, but I'm not a doctor, so all I'm saying is "be aware of this." It's an expensive delicacy, which means that it is a particularly lucrative target for counterfeiters, and China does not have strong, or strongly enforced, food safety laws).

The Hard Stuff

So that leaves "Invertatoes" and "Dried Slime."

Neither of which seem to have a good direct analogue to the real world. Well... sorta.

Invertatoes seems to refer to the plants. The name calls to mind potatoes, and potatoes do indeed grow in the ground and are starchy. It's probably fair to just use any kind of starchy tuber as the "invertatoes." Maybe cassava, since those are large enough that it's at least somewhat believable that "Fantasy Land Cassava" could look like that (although that doesn't fit the "these are normal plants that grow upside down" unless we're being really generous).

The problem is that it's sort of implied that the cabbage-like vegetable seen in the hot pot comes from the same plant, and everything from a potato plant other than the potato itself is toxic. They also don't look like that.

I literally don't know what those cabbage/lettuce-like leafy vegetables are. They're not seaweed, because the two varieties called out definitely don't look like that. They're not, so far as I can tell, the greens of any kind of starchy tuber--

EXCEPT.

So, I was taking one last look at tubers to see if I could find something that seemed to match, and I think Invertatoes could be likened to something similar to chicory. Particularly endives. I never knew endives were related to chicory (ie, "that thing that I'm aware is popular as a coffee substitute in the South, but I don't have much desire to try it, and I wonder if it even has caffeine..."), but, apparently, yeah. Endives are a member of the chicory genus.

So, yeah, lets say that Invertatoes are a sort of fantasy plant similar to the various members of the chicory genus. The trunk can be replicated with chicory root, and the leaves with endives.

That leaves Dried Slime. Dried Slime makes up the noodles in the hot pot, which implies that the noodles are gelatinous, and probably low in gluten. Senshi's explanation of the slime makes me want to think of it as a macro-unicellular lifeform, but... I'm not sure that's accurate.

While it's definitely not an accurate way to describe a jellyfish, I could definitely see a non-biologist describing jellyfish in a way similar to the way Senshi describes the slime. I could also see some fantasy terrestrial jellyfish thing hunting in a similar manner to the slime. Moreover, there are edible varieties of jellyfish, and they're processed in a manner very similar to what Senshi describes for processing slimes. And one way of preparing edible jellyfish is to thinly slice it into noodles.

Hot Pots

I... think this is using a very specifically Japanese sense of "hot pot" (which makes sense), because in Japan, hot pot can refer to a dish called nabemono, while in general, hot pot refers to a particular kind of dining in China where you get a pot full of boiling stock/broth and a bunch of raw ingredients, and you put the stuff you want into the broth at the table. Nabemono is more of "put a bunch of stuff in a pot, and cook it. Serve it boiling." Which is to say, it's soup.

Senshi puts the scorpion meat and mushroom into a pot on its own, and lets it start boiling-

Then, while it's boiling, he goes and finds other ingredients, coming back with the invertatoes and the slime. The two are prepared simply-

Seasoning isn't included in the ingredients, but I can understand this as a choice for presentation. We do see Senshi add something to the broth after tasting it, and I think it's fair to assume it's one of soy sauce, mirin, fish sauce, or similar. I think it's actually really interesting that we see Senshi add seasoning, but we're not told what it is-

Because... that's cooking. You can follow a recipe, but ultimately, you need to taste your cooking and make your own decisions. Senshi lets the soup cook, tastes the broth, decides it needs something, and gives it a bit of time to let the flavors meld before serving it up.

Dungeon Meshi Lobster and Mushroom Hot Pot

So, we're looking at something like this for the "Huge Scorpion and Walking Mushroom Hot Pot"--

Lobster- ~5 lbs or more (a 1 lb lobster yields about 4 oz of actual meat, which is a single serving), cut into large slices

Portobello- 2 mushrooms large diced, 2 left whole with the caps scored

Reindeer Lichen and Fat Choy- to taste

Chicory Roots- ~1 cup, diced

Endive greens- ~2 cups

Jellyfish, thin sliced- as much as you like

Add lobster and mushrooms to water, and allow to boil. While it comes to a boil, prepare the other ingredients, then add to the water. Let the soup come to a full boil, then reduce heat and simmer for 15 minutes to an hour (can simmer longer, but this will affect the texture of the ingredients. Longer simmering will result in more melding of flavors, but also degraded solid parts).

Taste the broth. It will likely need salt and acid, which could come in a variety of forms, such as kosher salt and lemon juice, soy sauce and mirin/rice vinegar, oyster/fish sauce, or something else. Go with your gut and your taste buds..

#Dungeon Meshi #Defictionalization #Cooking #Food #Huge Scorpion and Walking Mushroom Hot Pot #Lobster and Portobello Hot Pot #This actually isn't really my thing due to the mushrooms but hell #Cashapp: $ValravenApocalypse #Paypal.me/Korbl #Ko-fi.com/valravenapocalypse #If this gets 100 notes and people like it I'll do the carnivorous plant fruit tart #Delicious in Dungeon

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lichenaday · 1 month

Note

I found this lichen in okemos, Michigan, USA. My best guess is starry rosette (physcia Stellaris) but it doesn't look 1:1 with the little field guide I have. Sorry the picture isn't as good as I thought it was. Curious what you think. Found on an old metal bridge in the forest ^_^

Ahh the Physcias. A delightful genus, but morphologically variable and so not easy to ID. Since it is growing on metal (wow that's incredible) I would think it is more likely a species that grows on rocks like Physcia albinea or Physcia subtilis, but lichens also like to mess with us so I could be wrong. It's too far away to make out many features so I can't say, but I am glad you are trying and making lichen friends along the way!

#lichen #lichens #lichenology #mycology #lichenologist #lichen asks #lichen answers #Physcia

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aro-throughyourchest · 2 months

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ok finally finale posting I think the original ending was supposed to be c!Sapnap killing c!Punz and c!Dream using his three lives and dying in the process. unfortunately, they never touched it.

I'm gonna do something similar to what @dsmp-lainey did and just read out my disc 2022 finale headcanon in an alternate universe where Dream respects other people's lore and Sapnap shows up for basically anything. I did entirely write this like a dsmp wiki summary of an arc so bear with me if you hate those.

and also it is really long.

tubbo tommy and sapnap all band together to kill dream. it's july when sapnap meets with tommy and tubbo after months of being in hiding. they build a bunker off stream, despite tommy's paranoia and that's where sapnap tells the both of them about the Book of Death. He trusts tubbo with it until the plan is set. tubbo keeps it on his person at all times. neither are aware as tommy spirals into insanity.

sapnap makes progress checks with tubbo and tommy; how plans and further research is going. tubbo and sapnap develop a pact. it's unsure and built on a promise neither are sure they can keep, but tubbo promises if sapnap reveals as much as he can, tubbo will do the same.

in the same stream, sapnap goes to check on tommy and finds him in a bit under his house, messily dug out and only lit up by lichen. He greets sapnap, visibly disheveled and coughing and sputtering. fading in and out(?) and talking... Off. the entire time they talk he mines out more and more webs and tunnels from his house and keeps lining them with tnt. sapnap, not knowing what to do, coaxes tommy into the same promise as tubbo. he then leaves up the ladder, not knowing tommy's downing an invisibility potion beneath him. tommy later has a scare as an empty potion bottle lands on a plate of tnt.

a couple weeks later, tubbo and sapnap are deep within the bunker, discussing the revival book. tommy comes in, bursting off the walls, talking with the most glee they've heard from him in months. all the stuff he knows dream and punz are doing he's got them all figured out. he knows their sleep schedules and what time they eat, what time they think and what time they leave the building. tommy talks so much when sapnap shakes him it is only then he realizes how incoherent he sounds. "tommy. what are you talking about?" tubbo gets up from his seat. tommy explains he's been following dream and punz around for the past several weeks. he figured out their every move and it feels so. "tommy." sapnap's grip sinks into his shoulders. "were you followed?" "followed?"

the door upstairs opens and footsteps can be heard.

sapnap stops. looks between the two of them. "run"

sapnap was slain by dream

the hideout is burned down by dream and punz. they never find out; they never go back. it's almost october. now with even less gear and whatever books they could carry. sapnap is on two lives now. everyone is considerably less confident. sapnap has been adamant that neither of them use their lives, but now it's going to take both of sapnap's lives to kill dream. tommy doesn't try to stop him. he's too tired.

every time they miss a single thing from their list of items, they swap base. scorched earth everything and run as if they never existed there in the first place. eventually tubbo directs them to his nuke base, empty of a nuke. tommy asks why he never mentioned this. tubbo says it was a last resort. he explains the effects of nuclear warheads what they do to the surrounding area. "it's worse than l'manberg." nothing survives, he calls it. nothing can grow back. nothing, nothing, nothing at all.

for several weeks, they don't see the sun. they grow food using tommy's shitty farming method and occassionally, ranboo brings them food and gift baskets. tubbo wishes in private he could stay down there with them. he misses him family.

before they launch the mini-nuke as tubbo calls it, he'll ask tommy about the invis potions. "jesus tubbo wasn't that fucking ages ago" "tom, I'm serious." tommy says he only used them to spy on dream. tubbo asks if he has one in his offhand. tommy asks him about the pufferfish. tubbo says that's not relevant. they have the first honest conversation they've had since the disc war. possibly before. tubbo thinks it's a final goodbye. tommy can't be sure tubbo's not lying to him.

within that time, tubbo has built a rocket not as big as a nuke, but large enough to blast a hole through the prison. they're banking on the server being dead enough, only they'll have to deal with the consequences. while tubbo and tommy keep dream and punz busy, sapnap will be on the sidelines, trying to kill one of them.

they get in position. a massive hole explodes through the siding of the prison. tubbo joins the vc. "if you know what's good for you, you'll drop your weapons and come out."

dream and punz gather at the side of the blast hole, suddenly taking radiation damage. they rush backward, as tommy and tubbo swarm in with hasmat suits.

sapnap hides underground, relying on his communicator and downing water-breathing potions in the meantime.

dream says some bullshit about how he always wins, how he gets up every turn. punz starts coughing. "punz?"

punz was killed by admin command

sapnap was killed by admin command

dream doesn't move for a second. tubbo, taking no chances, charges him. He doesn't allow him a single hit out of pure blind adrenaline he keeps hitting until dream's on half a heart. dream calls out to tubbo and doesn't even get to finish his sentence.

dream was killed by admin command

sapnap was killed by admin command

"What?" tubbo stares at the message in shock. tommy sputters. "we... we almost had him—he didn't have to—"

It's, with a heavier heart, they realize Dream didn't have the revival book. Both then flee the scene, back to snowchester.

Tomorrow, Foolish and Eret will fight XD. They will send everyone home or lose. But today, Dream is dead, tubbo and tommy are packing Michael's bags, and all is good, if only for three seconds. or maybe, 24 hours.

#I would like to clarify this is not my idea of a perfect finale. probably not even a good one. but all the people I dislike are dead!#dream smp finale #c!tubbo #c!tommy #tommyinnit #tubbo underscore #dsmp #dream smp

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buddydollysims2 · 8 months

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Bacterium Delirium!

Hi! I made some carpet recolors.

as it says on the tin, you get 52 recolors of the maxis "hotel" carpet. I say that in quotes because it doesn't call it that in-game, but it does in most of the internals when you're ripping textures to edit, SO: carpets that use this texture include the "Crimsonia" Carpet, "Fool's Gold" Carpet, "Piña Colada" Carpet, OverWear Carpet in "Chinchilla," "Grassy Knoll" Carpet, Yodel Lei Carpet in "Lichen," "Minty Fresh" Carpet, Royal Blue Carpet, and the "Tropical Paradise" Carpet.

you may be wondering where the name for this collection comes from... well, on the 3rd, I found out I had strep throat after two days of my right tonsil being swollen like a balloon, intense brainfog, and my whole body aching. it seems like I get a little bit delirious every time I get sick anymore, so in my delirium I did the only thing I knew could do with 2 functioning braincells: I recolored a carpet I've been meaning to for a while. I use the aforementioned Maxis carpets with this texture the most (it's my favorite♥), but there's no purple! (WTF, Maxis!?) so, I made sure to include a few. REMINDER:

♦ DOWNLOAD: [SFS] | [GDRIVE] ♦

previews and more info on what's inside below! ↓

I'm not gonna bore you with all the fine details of how I made these here (for that you can go to my dreamwidth), so have some fun little previews!

to show these off, I loaded up the Smith house, which uses THREE of the hotel carpets by default, iirc. replacing the "Fool's Gold" Carpet in the livingroom above, from top left to bottom right, we have: bacterium delirium muted -175°, bacterium delirium muted +45°, bacterium delirium vibrant +80°, and bacterium delirium vibrant -135°. I named them by how many degrees I rotated the hue because my head is way too foggy to try and think of 52 color names, and I felt it was appropriate for a sickly, feverish sort of theme.

replacing the Yodel Lei Carpet in "Lichen" in their little chess parlor, again from top left to bottom right, we have: bacterium delirium vibrant +40°, bacterium delirium vibrant -165°, bacterium delirium monochrome in "darkest grey" and "white." the monochromes may look a bit off from what their names describe depending on your screen. my laptop screen is very dim so the darkest grey looks pretty much black to me with just a hint of texture, and the white looks like a rather light grey, which I did on purpose because I didn't want it to be eye-searing, though I may rectify that with another round of recolors later.

lastly, here's a comparison of the hotel carpets in the game next to my bacterium delirium recolors. muted -165° is under "Crimsonia," vibrant +10° is under "Fool's Gold," vibrant +25° is under "Piña Colada," monochrome "lightest grey" is under "Chinchilla," muted +5° is under "Grassy Knoll," muted +45° is under "Lichen," vibrant +120° is under "Minty Fresh," muted +75° is under Royal Blue (which doesn't have quote marks around it in-game like the others for some reason), and vibrant +140° is under "Tropical Paradise." oh! and some of my faves on the bottom row there, which I think are great improvements to their original counterparts: that nice, true red is muted -140°, the better green is muted -20°, and that rich, deep blue is muted +100°.

also included in the .RAR is a collection file (that goes in your Collections folder, not your Downloads). the filename on that starts with bd_col; it should be right up top with a folder of all the bitmaps I made while choosing colors for this set, plus the original textures, so if there are any shades I missed that you think ought to be included, you can edit to your heart's content or import what's there!

TOU: you can do whatever you want with these since I used a Maxis texture. my only ask is that if you do use the extra bitmaps I didn't use, or if you just really like these and wanna show me what they look like in your game, @ me or grab my attention somehow so I can see and share your additions around too! Enjoy! – buddy♥

#buddydollysims2 #buddydolly #sims 2 #sims 2 custom content #s2cc #bacterium delirium #DL #build #floor #carpet

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exhausted-archivist · 11 months

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Tastes of Thedas Lore Blurbs

Here are all the recipe lore blurbs for Dragon Age: Official Cookbook: Tastes of Thedas. Putting them below the cut due to length, there are 72 recipe blurbs in total.

Starters and Refreshments

Eggs à la Val Foret

Ah, yes. Tons of cream! Exactly what I've come to expect from Orlesian cuisine. Do I have any tips for creating the perfect poached egg? Well, ever since I heard that Solas's bald head was once likened to an egg, I simply try to make my eggs just as round and shiny! So far, it's worked wonderfully and never ceases to put a smile on my face.

Nevarran Blood Orange Salad

Although I knew that Divine Victoria left behind a life of wealth and privilege to join the Seekers of Truth, it wasn't until I was in Nevarra, seeing exactly what she'd given up, that I truly gained an appreciation for the path she'd chosen. The best way to describe my first glimpse of the gardens of Nevarra is that it was like seeing a painting come to life. For a long moment, I could only stand there, so dazzled by the richness and vibrancy of it all that I was half-convinced I was actually still napping in the carriage. Surely, there was no way such beauty could be found outside of a dream. And yet the beauty before me was very much real.

So, too, was the picturesque tableau that arrived later that day on a plate: perfectly cut slices of blood orange artfully arranged on a lush pillow of bitter greens. Was this a meal or a still life, I wondered. In truth, the answer was both. For Nevarrans, food is as much a feast for the eyes as for the mouth. But even if your arrangement isn't quite worthy of being displayed in a museum, this salad will sing a symphony on your tastebuds.

Fried Young Giant Spiders

Just as people on the surface raise cows and goats, the dwarves underground raise spiders. Yes, to eat. The legs are fried and served with a sauce, which, true to dwarven fashion, is made with some type of alcohol. The precise kind depends on the establishment where you're eating your spider legs. Unfortunately, I couldn't get an exact recipe from any of the chefs I spoke to. These sauces are apparently closely guarded secrets and have spurred many a nefarious plot to acquire them - the competition to be crowned Orzammar's Best Sauce is fierce. But I've been assured that lichen ale is generally not used.

I've therefore come up with my own recipe, based on the many varieties I sampled while in Orzammar. Given that sourcing the requisite spider legs above ground is not nearly so easy, and the demand for such exports is minimal, I've substituted them with crab legs. It's not a perfect match, but it's close enough to satisfy me.

Stuffed Deep Mushrooms

Though the mushrooms growing underground in caves and in many parts of the Deep Roads are all called "deep mushrooms," there is no singular variety. In fact, there are several! Some mushrooms are squat, with broad, flat caps, while others are long and spindly, reaching toward the sky like an old man's gnarled fingers. They also have a multitude of applications, used in the creation of everything from restorative potions to deadly poisons. But in Orzammar, mushrooms are farmed for eating!

I was able to sample some of these dwarven delicacies, prized for their unique flavor and intoxicating scent. After only a few bites, I was struck with inspiration. How delicious would one of these mushrooms be when stuffed with cheese and spinach? The answer is: very. Rest assured that I selected this particular variety of deep mushroom not only for its shape, which is ideal for holding the maximum amount of cheese (and spinach), but also for the fact that it does not carry the darkspawn taint. While certain dwarves will insist that a deep mushroom's proximity to lyrium and darkspawn can only improve its flavor, I am quite content to leave that particular question a mystery, especially where lyrium is concerned. Although I'm hardly an expert on the stuff, I can't help but think about Fenris and how much suffering he endured as a result of his lyrium-infused markings. It seems to me that, barring any natural resistance, lyrium and the body are two things that probably shouldn't mix.

Rivaini Couscous Salad

When I first encountered couscous, I mistakenly believed it to be a grain, like rice or the more familiar Fereldan barley. I was swiftly corrected. In fact, couscous is a sort of pasta, made with semolina flour and water, although it's far smaller than your typical Antivan pasta. Couscous has a very mild flavor on its own--maybe slightly nutty. But where it excels is in its ability to soak up surrounding flavors, making it a perfect base for any salad. I'd love to experiment further, but so far, this particular combination of red bell pepper and mint has proven to be incredibly pleasing.

Crab Cakes from Kirkwall

I love it when recipes add a dash of whimsy into the mix. Food should be fun. I, therefore, took it upon myself to put this into practice with a classic Kirkwall dish. After all, who hasn't looked at their crab cakes and wished they looked a little more like crabs? Okay, maybe I'm the only one who's thought this. But now that I've brought this possibility to your attention, I'm certain you're interested as well! Best of all, these extra-crabby crab cakes stay true to the original recipe's flavors, so nothing is lost--only gained!

Fluffy Mackerel Pudding

Can it really be Feast Day without fluffy mackerel pudding? No! In fact, there's no dish I associate more strongly with the holiday than this unique combination of mackerel, onion, celery, and eggs. Granted, I've heard stories that, several decades ago, someone once attempted a diet consisting entirely of fluffy mackerel pudding. Now, that I certainly wouldn't recommend. It stops being Feast Day Fish if you eat it every day, no?

Snail and Watercress Salad

When the Avvar can't get their hands on a gurgut or a wyvern, they turn their attention to smaller prey. Much smaller prey. Snails are found on many a hillside boulder, making them an abundant source of food for the Avvar. Now, while some would wrinkle their noses or cry out in disgust at the prospect of eating a snail, I am pleased to report that, when prepared correctly, the texture, and flavor are actually good! I could happily eat a plate full of snails dressed in butter and oil, but those still on the fence about a snail's place in Lowlander cuisine might prefer to sample them in conjunction with other ingredients. Might I suggest a snail and watercress salad? It’s not exactly traditional Avvar cuisine, but my hosts certainly seemed to enjoy it.

Cave Beetles

You think that, after snails, I'd balk at beetles? Never! In fact, I greatly enjoyed this dwarven dish, which involves roasting cave beetles in their shells. However, I recognize that many may not have a palate that's nearly so adventurous. If that's the case, the cave beetles can be replaced with whole prawns while keeping the rest of the recipe the same. That being said, if you do enjoy the variation with prawns, I really recommend giving the cave beetles a try. They're quite similar in both texture and flavor. If you were to blindfold yourself, I doubt you could tell the difference!

For the Road

Spiced Jerky

Preserved foods play an important role in many different cultures across Thedas. Not only do they help certain communities weather times of scarcity brought on by the changing of the seasons, but they also ensure that long journeys away from home are possible. Imagine how difficult it would be for Dalish hunters to bring back meat the clan is depending on if they have to be back for supper night - or, worse, hunt on an empty stomach! This spiced jerky ensures that all Dalish hunters are well provisioned whenever they set out on a hunt so that no one, either the hunter or the clan at home, must go hungry. I do wonder, given how well this food keeps, whether it’s used in offerings made by certain Dalish elves to Fen’Harel. Although his shrines are usually located well outside of Dalish camps, I can’t imagine that leaving behind food that’ll readily spoil is good practice, especially if the prevailing opinion about these shrines is to avoid them. Besides, he is the Dread Wolf. If any god would enjoy a good piece of jerky, it should be him!

Grey Warden Pastry Pockets

Unlike many of us, Grey Wardens often don’t have the luxury of sitting down for their meals. Instead, they’re off on patrol, usually in less-than-pleasant climates, which makes their work all the more exhausting. In their shoes, I imagine I’d be downright ravenous, well beyond what a handful of nuts could hope to sate. But a pastry stuffed to the brim with meat, potatoes, and onion? Now, that would keep me going, and the Grey Wardens certainly seem to agree! While the original recipe produces a much tougher pastry - mostly to keep the whole thing from falling apart in one’s pack - another variation, championed by newer recruits from Orlais, incorporates the far more delicate Orlesian puff pastry. Whether eaten hot or cold, the results are certainly delicious, but I wouldn’t recommend storing these pastries anywhere they might be jostled. Otherwise, you might open your pack to find a mess in place of a meal!

Pickled Eggs

Got a fever? A cold? An aching shoulder, perhaps? Ask any Fereldan for advice, and they’ll be quick to prescribe you a pickled egg, the Fereldan cure for…well, pretty much anything! Actually, no, I take it back. You don’t even have to ask. Looking a bit under the weather is prompt enough for most Fereldans to unleash a deluge of eggs, which is exactly what Commander Cullen found waiting for him in his office during the worst of his lyrium withdrawals. Whether the eggs really work is a completely different story, but I’d be the last person to complain if one was offered to me. I am Fereldan, after all. Still, next time you feel a bit of illness coming on, try one of these salty-sour eggs. You never know; it might actually work. And at the very least, you’ll have the opportunity to enjoy one of Ferelden’s finest snacks!

Unidentified Meat

Have you ever heard a tale so exciting that you decided then and there that you absolutely have to see the truth of it for yourself? That was me when I learned about the mysterious, impossible-to-identify meat that’s often served in taverns across Tevinter - usually with a heaping portion of Nevarran flat bread. Of course, sometimes, the truth is far less exciting. Because what did I find on my plate when I ordered a portion of this strange meat? Was it quillback? Dracolisk? Giant? No. It was chicken - chicken legs, to be precise. Ah, well. They were still delicious.

Seheron Fish Pockets

Alas, for all my desire to see every last bit of Thedas, there are still certain places where I simply cannot go. Take far-off Seheron, for example, a land that, according to the Hero of Ferelden’s companion, Sten, smells like tea, incense, and the sea. Sounds lovely, no? What a shame then, that all my knowledge comes secondhand - and this recipe is no exception. I learned of this recipe from a member of the famous mercenary band Bull’s Chargers. A group favorite, the fish is packed with flavor. On its own, this combination of spices might prove a bit too much for the more delicate Orlesian palates, but I find that the soft wrap and crisp vegetables temper the resultant heat a fair bit. Do note, however, that this dish has a tendency to fall apart if eaten haphazardly. I suppose that’s why the mercenary who shared this recipe with me emphasized the importance of sitting down properly. He seemed to think I might stand in my chair to eat it instead. Who does that?

Fereldan Hearty Scones

Traveling is tiring work, especially when circumstances beyond your control necessitate going by foot instead of carriage. Thankfully, I had these hearty scones from home to keep me going! Unlike their sweeter, more delicate counterparts, Fereldan scones are packed with cheese and bacon, making them certain to keep you full until your next meal. Unfortunately, this also makes the scones a prime target for any nearby mabari, who love cheese and bacon as much as any other Fereldan. Don't make my mistake! Take a moment to survey your surroundings before enjoying your first bite; otherwise, a four-legged someone might do the honors for you.

Crow Feed

You don’t see much rice outside of Antiva and its neighbor, Rivain. In fact, it’s an especially rare sight in Ferelden, where any grain is seemingly always either barley or wheat. Evidently, very little of the rice Antiva produces ends up being exported, making it relatively cheap compared to other grains. It’s no wonder, then, that rice is a key component in dishes favored by poorer Antivans. However, that doesn’t make them any less delicious! Take crow feed, for example - a simple dish of rice, butter, and onions named after the (in)famous Antivan Crows. Although it’s most certainly cheap, the taste is fit for a king!

Black Lichen Bread

No doubt your face is already creasing in trepidation. “But wait,” you think, “isn’t black lichen toxic?” And yes. Yes, it is. But high temperatures seem to largely neutralize the lichen’s toxicity, making it safe to consume. If you’re still concerned, you can easily substitute any surface varieties for the lichen used in this recipe. Just make sure to thoroughly dry it, as you would any lichen from underground. You can also use bark in place of lichen, but I think that defeats the point. This is supposed to be lichen bread, after all, not bark bread!

Hearth Cakes

Some lovely comfort food, courtesy of the Dalish. These cakes are traditionally made over the hearth on an iron griddle or skillet (hence the name). While the original recipe calls for halla butter, I’ve found that other types of butter work just as well. The resulting dough stays moist on the inside, but crisp and flaky on the outside. In other words: perfect. Although hearth cakes can be made plain, I recommend adding some dried fruit into the mix. Cranberries, raisins, and currants all work. I believe the Dalish simply use whatever is on hand. Of course, if you’re feeling a bit mischievous, you could mix in some hot peppers instead: Just be prepared to be cursed as loudly and vehemently as Fen’Harel, the Lord of Tricksters himself!

Peasant Bread

While traveling through Orlais, I spied this rustic and hearty bread being eaten by both Dalish and city elves alike. The recipe is very straightforward, calling for wheat, salt, and grease in nearly equal parts, and it produces a biscuit that feels like it would be right at home in any Fereldan dish. It does a wonderful job mopping up any last bits of stew left inside your bowl, but it also pairs well with a bit of butter and jam.

Soups and Stews

Merrill’s Blood Soup

In the same vein as Llomerryn red, this is not actually blood - it’s just red. The color comes from the beetroot, which gives the soup a rich, earthy flavor that goes well with the roasted chickpeas sprinkled on top. Some might find the vibrant crimson hue off-putting, in the same way many shun the practice of blood magic. However, as mages like Merrill have shown, I think it’s best to not judge by appearances or by what you think you know. Take the time to experience things for yourself, and you might find yourself pleasantly surprised!

Fereldan Potato and Leek Soup

Most people immediately think of Orlais when it comes to creamy soups, and I can’t blame them. However, as often as cream might appear in their cuisine, the Orlesians certainly don’t have a monopoly on it, whether in soup or otherwise. This dish is 100% Fereldan through and through, and the recipe I’ve noted here is actually Mum’s. Of course, I couldn’t help but put my own little twist on it. Instead of using a side of toasted bread to give the meal a necessary bit of crunch, I turned my attention abroad, settling on chickpeas from Rivain, toasted to crouton-like crispiness. In a way, this recipe is very much a reflection of me, now that my journey is coming to an end. While my origins are unmistakably Fereldan, my travels across Thedas have touched me in a lasting way, and I’m all the richer for it.

The Hanged Man’s Mystery Meat Stew

A famous dish from the Hanged Man tavern in Kirkwall - or infamous, I suppose, depending on your perspective. Personally, after having heard so much about it, I couldn’t wait to taste it, even if the establishment, as Fenris once so succinctly put it, smelled of sour ale, vomit, and desperation. Oh, yes. I can hear what you’re thinking. A Fereldan excited about yet another stew. How predictable. But this is the tavern’s feature dish! Why shouldn’t I be excited? It’s made from a different meat every morning. I suspect mine was pork, although after overhearing the waitress tell another patron that they hang people who ask stupid questions from the rafters, I declined to confirm.

Fish Chowder

As Antivan as it gets! A bowl of this thick, creamy soup will have you feeling like you’re in Antiva City. No need for any pickpockets, corrupt politicians, or Antivan leather to further enhance the experience - the word “enhance” being entirely debatable, of course. I can’t imagine that the smell of rotting flesh would do much for anyone’s appetite, though Zevran Arainai might disagree with me on that. Evidently, becoming an accomplished assassin can have a pronounced effect on one’s tastes. But if you ask me, this desire for rather unusual accompaniments is likely born of something much more universally understood: homesickness.

Sweet and Sour Cabbage Soup

This Fereldan staple is often more solid than liquid, filled to the brim with cabbage, tomatoes, and other vegetables. Paired with a thick slice of dark bread, it makes for a filling and satisfying meal, one guaranteed to leave you full of warmth for hours afterwards on even the coldest of days. A perfect fit for us Fereldans, you might think, but we aren’t the only ones who enjoy this soup on the regular. Apparently, there’s a troupe of actors in Orlais whose sole focus is a popular comedy set in the fictional Fereldan village of Wilkshire Downs. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to see it for myself, as the performance was sold out almost instantly. But in order to play their roles most convincingly, the actors went so far as to change their diets to match those of their characters. For example, there’s a mayor who specifically eats cabbage soup. Personally, I don’t think I’d enjoy subsisting only on cabbage soup for an extended period of time, but you can’t help but applaud them for their dedication to their craft!

Lentil Soup

Lentils and Onions - open any pantry across Thedas, and I’m certain you’ll find these two ingredients sitting on the shelves. They’re both relatively inexpensive and keep well for an extended period of time. Best of all, they go with pretty much anything! Still, I couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like if these two Thedosian staples played a starring role instead of a supporting one. So I combined a recipe that’s popular in elven alienages with some classic Tevinter flavors to supply an answer to this question. And what a delicious answer it is!

Nettle Soup

I first encountered nettles as a child, when I tripped and fell face-first in a whole patch of them. Many tears were shed, along with a lecture from Mum to play elsewhere from now on. In short, it was far from a pleasant experience. So I was understandably dubious when confronted with the idea of using nettles as an ingredient in my cooking. How could something so painful to the touch be in any way edible, let alone pleasant on the tongue. Funnily enough, I didn’t even have to taste it to understand. Though I doubt she’d appreciate it, I immediately thought of Lady Morrigan. She is, in a word, prickly, much like a nettle. And yet, despite her oftentimes cruel manner, no one can deny that she’s done much for Thedas’s benefit, helping not just the Hero of Ferelden, but also the Inquisitor. She’s a perfect example of how first impressions are not always the most correct. So, yes, nettles are both incredibly nutritious and delicious, contrary to my expectations.

King Alistair’s Lamb and Pea Stew

Hearty, humble, and straightforward to make - the three key aspects of any good Fereldan stew. This is a dish so ubiquitous that it’s become almost synonymous with Fereldan cuisine in general. I’m certain you’ve heard many a clever quip about our stews, perhaps even from Fereldan! But let me be the first to assure you that, no, contrary to what King Alistair may have said, we don’t cook our ingredients until they’re all “a uniform grey color.” Throwing them into the largest pot we can find, on the other hand… …that much is true. If you’re going to make a stew, you might as well make a lot of it! Although Mum’s stews will always rule my heart, I’d be lying if I said this recipe - its namesake’s view on Fereldan stews aside - didn’t come close to stealing the crown. (Sorry, Mum!)

Main Courses

Stuffed Cabbage

Gathering is just as important as hunting for the Avvar. It’s like Mum said: You can’t live off only meat, and any meal without vegetables is a meal half-finished. Of course, I didn’t understand her reasoning as a child, especially one who was single-handedly waging a war against the green menace on my plate. But now that I’m older, I have a new appreciation for her words. Plus, with a bit of proper seasoning, and some meat, even the most unappealing of vegetables can be delicious.

Antivan Gnocchi

Phew! Antivan meals sure are something to behold - and, to think, for Antivan nobles like Lady Josephine, these decadent spreads are just another dinner! Every time I thought we’d reach the last course, another was swiftly brought out. After ten dishes full of ingredients like olives, truffles, pasta, and cream, it’s a wonder I didn’t have to be rolled away from the table! In retrospect, I probably overindulged in the gnocchi, which were dressed with leeks and a rich cheese sauce. While they’re delicious, these small lumps of wheat, flour, egg, salt, and potato are incredibly filling. Still, I cannot say I won’t repeat this mistake next time I find myself at an Antivan table - nor will I regret it if I do!

Antivan Paella

Bordered by the Rialto Bay to the east, Antiva is populated mostly on the coast. It’s no wonder, then, that seafood plays a starring role in Antivan cuisine. There’s no dish that exemplifies this more than the classic Antivan paella. Rice, saffron, and a variety of seafood (from whole shrimp to cuttlefish to mussels) come together to create an aromatic smorgasbord of everything the ocean has to offer. Best of all, it’s all made in a single pot - truly a dish after my own stew-loving Fereldan heart, if King Alistair’s thoughts on Fereldan cuisine are to believed! Although paella is traditionally cooked in a shallow, wide pan called a paellera (or, more confusingly, a paella in certain regions of Antiva), it can be prepared in virtually any deep skillet. Be sure to pair your paella with a glass of wine - ideally, an Antivan vintage, according to Lady Josephine, whose opinion on such matters can certainly be trusted - for the full experience.

Grilled Poussin

The Chasind sure love their poussin. And who can blame them? I love it, too! It’s a great alternative to the roasted turkey one might normally trot out for guests - although, I admit, the length of the guest list will likely be the deciding factor here. A poussin is a significantly smaller bird, after all, and as much as we might love the kitchen, sometimes we must be economical in our choices. Still, for a more intimate dinner party, you can’t go wrong with this dish! Although the Chasind typically cook poussin in a large pot over an open fire for an extended period of time, a similar effect can be achieved with any other cookware of suitable size and an oven. Marinating and basting the meat to keep it moist. That’s the secret to a meat so tender that it practically falls off the bone!

Gurgut Roast with Lowlander Spices and Mushroom Sauce

It was spring when I trudged through the Frostbacks on my way toward one of the many Avvar settlements that populate the area. As this is the time of year when the Avvar begin preparing for the following winter by smoking meat, pickling vegetables, and drying fruit, I thought it an ideal time to visit and observe. Unfortunately, springtime is also the gurgut’s mating season. As a result, I nearly discovered firsthand why travelers are advised to keep their distance from these brightly colored beasts. Luckily, a nearby group of Avvar hunters quickly came to my aid, and I was spared the indignity of beating at the beast with a ladle. In an expression of my thanks, I shared with them several jars of spices from home, which they happily accepted. These Lowlander spices are prized among the Avvar and often reserved for feasts are rare delicacies. What unparalleled good fortune, then, that I later had the opportunity to dine on the slain gurgut, now roasted and seasoned with the spices I had gifted, at the hunters’ hold.

Nug Pancakes

Although some see nugs only as pets, they are edible. In fact, nugs constitute a key part of dwarven cuisine, so much so that Varen, the first dwarf to attempt eating a nug - albeit out of desperation - became a paragon for his culinary discovery! I'd liken the flavor to a cross between pork and rabbit. Very tender, especially when roasted. But of all the nug-based dishes I've sampled, my favorite is still the nug pancakes (with nug-gets coming in a close second). I've noted down the recipe here and recommend you give it a try! Of course, if you cannot bring yourself to eat nug, other meats can be substituted in its place.

Fish in Salt Crust

The Avvar are generally rather utilitarian in their cooking methods - lots of stews, which I can hardly find fault with. But holds by lakes and rivers have a unique way of cooking fish. Instead of using a pan, they’ll wrap the fish in pungent leaves and salt, then leave it baking all day over banked coals. Like a stew, this method of preparation does not require constant attention. In addition, the salt helps keep moisture inside the fish, which turns the flesh creamy and tender. Plus, there’s a great deal of fun to be had when cracking the salt open! It adds a level of drama that I’m sure even the Orlesians would appreciate.

Roasted Wyvern

Having made their home in the inhospitable Frostbacks, the Avvar live on whatever they can glean from the land, hunting all manner of beasts, from harts and rams to large creatures like lurkers and gurguts - sometimes even wyverns! But take care! Although wyvern can be delicious, if they’re not prepared correctly, they’re devastatingly poisonous, a consequence of their venomous nature. I’ve made sure to include detailed instructions. I’m no Antivan Crow like Zevran Arainai, after all; the last thing I want is for anyone to be poisoned via dinner!

Nug Bacon and Egg Pie

Ever since I heard about Sister Leliana keeping a nug as a companion, I’ve desperately longed for a Schmooples of my own. Of course, as adorable as nugs are, allowing them anywhere near a fully stocked kitchen is a recipe for disaster. You’d think that after seeing Mum nearly lose her mind trying to keep the Hero of Ferelden’s mabari out of her larder, I’d be a touch more aware of the security of my own roasts. And yet…that cute face… Suffice it to say, I discovered firsthand just how voracious these little omnivores can be. These days, the closest thing to a nug in my house is this traditional Fereldan farmer’s pie.

Starkhaven Fish and Egg Pie

In some ways, this famous pie mirrors its namesake. Not only is it almost oval in shape, but it’s also stuffed to the brim with fish from the Minanter River, lending the impression that it, like the city of Starkhaven, sits perched upon the river’s bounty. But where the city is crowned with solid rings of tall, gray stone, this pie has a light, flaky crust that, I imagine, is far kinder on one’s teeth –not to mention, far tastier! As beautiful as Starkhaven is, with its lavish estates and fountains, I’d much rather take a bite of one of its pies instead. Of course, if Starkhaven’s prince were on offer as well… just kidding! I’d still take the pie. Given Sebastain Vael’s popularity, though, I might be alone in this decision.

Cacio e Pepe

A classic Antivan dish that graces the tables of both rich and poor alike. Composed of three pain ingredients – pasta, cheese, and pepper – cacio e pepe is delightfully simple. And yet, it is also very easy to get wrong, as I quickly discovered. The sauce must be smooth, not clumpy, a surprisingly tall ask when your tools are dry cheese and water. But do not despair! This skill, like all others, can be learned, and with a bit of practice, you too will be able to make a sauce that even the most scrutinizing of Antivan grandmothers can’t help but approve of. And let me tell you, that nod of approval is worth every ounce of struggle. So let me be the first to offer it to you, as Mum did for me when I was a child helping her in the kitchen: I’m so proud of you for persevering!

Turnip and Mutton Pie

I already know what you’re thinking. A Fereldan about to extol the virtues of turnips? Of course! They’re a wonderful little root vegetable, capable of being prepared any number of ways–whether boiled, stir-fried, roasted, steamed, or mashed–and even eaten raw! Although they certainly make a great addition to any stew, for now, I’d like to introduce you to the wonders of turnips in pies.

This particular pie is a classic Fereldan dish served at taverns across the kingdom. Tender chunks of lamb and turnip are enveloped in a buttery crust that, together, never fail to put a smile on my face. It doesn’t matter how cold or miserable the day is. None of that is any match for a belly full of warm, rich, turnipy goodness. Even just the smell alone is a comfort that no other food could ever hope to match. And although you could certainly evoke it by throwing a bushel of turnips into the fire, as Cole once did, I think putting them in a pie is a much tastier idea.

Smoked Ham from the Anderfels

Contrary to what the rumors (or perhaps just the importers) would have you believe, this ham does not taste of despair - whatever flavor that might be. Although the Anderfels are largely ill-suited for farming, pigs do surprisingly well there, in spite of the notoriously inhospitable climate. As a result, ham from the Anderfels is generous in size and, when glazed, makes for a delicious meal. In terms of glazes, my personal favorite is made from a combination of apples and apricots. However, I’ve heard that one glaze, in particular, made from wildflowers, can turn a smoked ham as hard as jade! Not at all suitable for eating, but I imagine it would pack quite the punch, especially in the hands of a warrior like Divine Victoria!

Roasted Turkey with Sides

If you're attending the Prince of Starkhaven's birthday celebration or any dinner party in the Free Marches, chances are, you'll find this feast waiting for you. The roasted turkey, cooked to golden-brown perfection, sits surrounded by a host of different sides, creating a picturesque scene that's certain to impress everyone lucky enough to secure an invite. Unsurprisingly, this culinary tableau is far from a quick-and-easy meal. The chef who prepared the rendition I enjoyed in Kirkwall informed me - after much persuasion - that the turkey alone took hours to prepare. Add a few sides, and there goes most of the day, especially if you don't have a full kitchen staff to assist you! Unfortunately, I discovered this the hard way when I later attempted to put this recipe into practice. By the time everything was properly cooked and ready, it was late into the evening - well past dinnertime, even in Antiva, where dinner is usually a late-night affair. So take my advice, and budget more time than you think you need. Also be sure to invite some friends! This is definitely a meal that's meant to be shared, which, in my opinion, makes it the best kind!

Sides

Sera’s Yummy Corn

This recipe is simple, yet strict. No wraps. No non-yellow corn. Peel halfway, then wash and cook; peel again, and eat. Personally I think other varieties of corn would work just fine - I agree with checking for rot, of course - but the suggestion was met with such disgust from Sera that, well, I couldn’t bring myself to try it. Also, while the original recipe advises acquiring the ingredients through less-than-honorable means, let me assure you that merchant-bought corn is absolutely fine. Friends of Red Jenny can, of course, pilfer a few ears from an undeserving noble, as usual.

Stuffed Vine Leaves

The first thing I did upon arriving in the Tevinter Imperium was head for the nearest tavern and order this classic Tevinter appetizer. These tender leaves are stuffed with rice, herbs, and sometimes minced meat. When topped with a bit of lemon juice and a dollop of tzatziki sauce, they’re sure to leave you in a state of bliss with just a single bite. In my case, I was so enchanted by the delicious flavors that I didn’t even notice the commotion outside! Apparently, there was a disagreement between a magister and another magister’s son - about what, I couldn’t say. After all, I was too busy eating!

Honey Carrots

In much the same way as the Inquisition is to the Inquisitor, a meal is more than just a main course. Sides form an equal part of the equation and deserve just as much care and attention as the dish they’re served alongside. It’s a lesson Mum taught me long ago and one I haven’t forgotten since. So of course, I noticed when this Orlesian staple made an appearance. It graced my table not once, not twice, but every single time I dined in Orlais. And while I enjoyed the traditional Orlesian rendition of this dish - which is on the sweeter side, thanks to a liberal application of honey - those who prefer a level of sweetness more in line with a carrot’s natural flavor should employ a lighter touch.

Nevarran Flat Bread and Yogurt Dip

There’s something supremely satisfying about a tall stack of Nevarran flat bread - and I don’t just mean in an aesthetic sense. Of course, being pleasing to the eye is certainly a consideration. This is a Nevarran dish, after all. But the process of being able to go from dough to ready-to-eat bread in minutes reaches a whole level of satisfaction on its own, especially if you’re used to waiting hours for a loaf to finish baking! Best off all, this bread can be eaten in a variety of different ways, whether on its own, brushed with oil, or as a vehicle for an assortment of dips. Personally, I’d love to try it with a good stew from home one day.

Sweet Delights

Blancmange

When translated literally from Orlesian, blancmange means “white eating,” which, I suppose, is pretty accurate. This dish is a white pudding made with either milk or heavy cream that’s been thickened. On its own, it possesses a relatively mild sweetness–particularly by Orlesian standards. But that’s because it’s generally served with various toppings, such as a red grape compote, to amplify the dish’s sweet flavors. The toppings are also a great way to decorate an otherwise plain-looking dessert. I’ve seen everything from designs composed of toasted almonds to ribbons of fresh mango. There’s really no limit to what you can do!

If you’re looking for a particularly elegant option, you need only turn to Lady Vivienne for guidance. After all, she’s the veritable queen of style, no matter the medium. When it comes to blancmange, her preferred arrangement remains true to the dish’s name, offering a pristine white-on-white tableau of white chocolate curls and whole jasmine flowers. The result is gorgeous on its own, but when served on a dark plate, it looks all the more stunning!

As stunning as that is, I prefer to add a cherry sauce to top the dish.

Poison Stings

Traveling is exhausting, as I’ve recently discovered. Even if you’re just sitting in a carriage, it can often feel like you’re walking every step of the way. Thankfully, I’m not the first to take long journeys across Thedas. Dorian Pavus traveled all the way from Tevinter to Ferelden in order to join the Inquisition - and rather quickly, at that! His secret? Chocolate-coated orange peels, colloquially known as poison stings. They’re sweet and sour, crunchy and chewy, and are certain to perk you right up whenever you’re starting to feel a bit worn down.

Dalish Forest Fruit Cobbler

Mum always knew there’s no greater comfort than a warm slice of cobbler - and the Dalish know it too! The first time I had a bite of this dessert, it was like sitting in Mum’s kitchen all over again, letting the simple pleasure of her baking wash away the day’s troubles. Hard to feel the sting of a skinned knee or a lost game when your belly is full of warm, gooey goodness, no? Although Mum usually made her cobblers with strawberries and rhubarb - only the stems, of course, as the leaves are poisonous - you can follow the Dalish’s lead and use whatever forest fruit is currently in season.

Dwarven Plum Jam

One of the great joys of this journey has been the sheer variety of foods I’ve encountered. However, there are certain places that, by nature of their climate or simply location, offer little in the way of choice when it comes to locally produced foods. The dwarven city of Orzammar is one such place.

Though it is underground, the city is by no means isolated, and trade with the surface has ensured that foods from above ground have soared to great heights of popularity below. Jam, particularly that made from plums, seems to be in especially high demand. The price, however, was enough to make my eyes water! It’s no surprise that only the wealthiest and most influential residents of Orzammar can afford it.

That’s not to say the rest of the city’s population is doomed to live in a jamless existence! While in Orzammar, I spoke to a local jam maker who, rather than purchase the jams directly from merchants, has opted to import only the individual components. They hope that, by making the actual preserves themselves, they can sell their product for a much more reasonable price. And the results, I dare say, were very sweet.

Sour Cherries in Cream

Imagine that you, like me, are at a dinner party in Orlais. You’ve just finished polishing off the second-to-last course, the latest in a long slew of extravagance, and you’re starting to realize that perhaps you overindulged earlier in the evening. But how could you not? The food was just so good. Now there’s only dessert left, and your stomach feels like it’s about to burst. At this point, you cannot imagine how you’ll manage to choke down whatever tower of sugar and cream awaits you in the kitchens. All you know is you have to. You cannot be rude to your host, after all. What a relief, then, when dessert finally arrives, and you’re presented with a small bowl filled with black cherries dressed in sweet cherry sauce and whipped cream. Evidently, even the Orlesians are sometimes in need of lighter fare. And so the night ends, with stomachs still intact and no offense caused. A happy ending for all!

Treviso Energy Balls

As a Fereldan, I’m no stranger to hardship. The Fifth Blight took much from us, but the darkspawn are hardly the sole cause of suffering in Thedas. Take Treviso, a port city in northern Antiva, for example: Treviso was captured and liberated several times during both the Qunari Wars and the New Exalted Marches. As you can imagine, during times of occupation, food was scarce, and those living in the city had to make do with the limited ingredients they still had. Of course, people can be remarkably creative, particularly in difficult times. You need only look to the work Anders did in his clinic in Darktown to know that much. And so the Treviso energy ball was born, combining peanut butter, oats, and dried fruit into a bite-sized treat that’s just bursting with energy! Perfect for when you’re out sabotaging weapon caches - or just taking a hike.

Rice Pudding

I assumed a mercenary would be paid in gold. But according to the second-in-command of the Bull’s Chargers, this is not always the case! One time, he, the Iron Bull, and five other Chargers defended a village from fifty bandits, an awe-inspiring feat by anyone’s measure. I certainly listened in slack-jawed amazement as Krem recounted the tale. How incredible they must have been! If only I could’ve seen it for myself. Ahem. In any case, once the bandits were defeated and it came time for the Chargers to collect on the payment they were owed, instead of receiving a sack of gold, they got several bags of rice. When I asked what they did with all this rice, Krem only shrugged and said, “When life gives you rice, make rice pudding.” I don’t believe truer words were ever spoken!

Goat Custard

You’ll find custards all across Thedas in a dizzying number of variations. I sourced this particular recipe from Rivain, where it has gained great popularity as a dessert. The custard is made from goat’s milk and studded with roasted figs to add a touch of sweetness to the dish’s overall richness. If you’d like to further enhance the dish’s sweet flavors, milk from the Ayesleigh gulabi goat can be used, as it boasts a natural sweetness that makes it prized by custard connoisseurs everywhere.

Baked Goods

Antivan Apple Grenade

It’s no secret that I delight in creative presentation when it comes to food. Whether it’s a crab cake designed to look like a crab or a dish featuring a fish peeking its head out of a pie, the extra touches are all certain to leave me clapping my hands with glee. Thankfully, this Antivan dessert nails it on both counts! Its name comes from the fact it resembles the fire grenades reportedly used by the Antivan Crows assassins - not just in shape, but also in heat! I discovered that part for myself the hard way, when I bit into the piping-hot apple at the center of these sweet pastry bundles with a touch too much enthusiasm.

Found Cake

The Hero of Ferelden’s mabari is very good at finding items. One time he even brought back a cake! As I understand it, the cake in question was a chocolate cream variety, topped with white frosting and fresh strawberries. Of course, I had to try my hand at reproducing it, and I think the results are sure to delight. I did, however, make the decision to omit the few flecks of drool that apparently clung to the original. As much as we love our mabari in Ferelden, I don’t think their spittle makes for a very appetizing ingredient. Not even Teyrn Loghain, who, I would argue, is far more tolerant of mabari drool than I, is liable to enjoy a cake that’s become intimately acquainted with the inside of a mabari’s mouth.

Varric’s Favorite Cinnamon Rolls

When you hear the tales of Thedas's heroes, what you don't always hear are the silly names Varric Tethras called them. Some of them more fitting - Blondie, Curly, Ruffles, Broody - and others a little more...ironic. Tiny? Chuckles? I can easily imagine his amusement at the exasperation of those around him, but that's Varric for you. He can disarm you with his humor and charm (or quite literally, through his spy network). I'll tell you a secret, though-I think he has a soft spot for the soft heroes. "Daisy" for Merrill, "Sunshine" for Bethany, "Kid" for Cole. I've even heard rumors that there was a kind, appeasing hero he called "Waffles". And "Waffles" is just on short step away from him calling someone a "Cinnamon Roll," which I've heard is one of his favorite sweets. (Some of those heroes would decidedly deserve that nickname, too.) I whipped up a batch of cinnamon rolls while thinking on it, and I believe they're the perfect treat to have while listening to him spin you a tale. Warm, sweet, comforting- the kind of treat not for listening to Hard in Hightown, but for hours spent reminiscing.

Croissants

The Orlesians certainly know how to make a good pastry! It’s no wonder Lady Vivienne starts off her day with one of these, the most well-known of all Orlesian pastries and, in my humble opinion, the most delicious. But, by Andraste, these little crescents are a lot of work to make! In order to achieve that wonderfully flaky texture croissants are known for, the dough is layered with butter and then rolled and folded several times over before being rolled into a thin sheet. It’s times like these when I wish I had a strong companion like the Iron Bull or Commander Cullen to take over the duties with the rolling pin. Anything to spare my arms the indignity of being reduced to limp noodles!

Cherry Cupcake

These delightful little cakes are decadence in bite-sized form, as pleasing to the eye as they are the tongue. Although they were served alongside other sweets, carried from one private box to the next by a servant on stilts at the Tevinter theater, I was so enchanted by the pink color that I barely noticed what else was on offer. It was only after I’d had a cupcake (or four) that I heard these tiny cakes were once used as a vehicle for deadly poisons! Thankfully, my cupcakes were poison free, and so is the recipe I now pass on to you.

Chocolate Cake

I didn’t have to travel very far to get my hands on this recipe. In fact, I didn’t need to travel at all! This cake is actually one of Mum’s recipes. She baked it for the first time on my tenth name-day, and it made for a sweet celebration that not another name-day passed without me begging for an encore. Thankfully, Mum was kind enough to indulge me, even though, more times than not, she already had her hands full with the Couslands’ meals. And so whenever I think about her love for me, this cake inevitably sits front and center in my mind. It therefore seems only fitting to include here.

Varric’s Favorite Pastries

Leave a plate of pastries, fresh from the oven, to cool on a windowsill, and you might soon find a certain member of House Tethras lurking nearby. It’s unsurprising, given that the man’s first thought when it came to renaming the Bone Pit was apparently “the pie fields.” I can’t blame him, of course. I, too, love a good pastry, whether it be biscuit, roll, or bun. And after an extensive consultation with the famed arbalist himself, I’ve put together this sample, which is sure to delight! But whether you choose to leave them within dwarf’s reach well, that is entirely up to you.

Sugar Cake

There’s often joy in simplicity, as illustrated by this humble cake, which is topped with a sweet mixture of butter, sugar, and almonds. I purchased one off a surface dwarf merchant who assured me that it would be well received by any companion. According to him, even the Hero of Ferelden purchased a few for this very purpose. Of course, for me, traveling alone, this cake isn’t as much a gift as it is a perfect pick-me-up after a long day of travel. But perhaps one day, I’ll have a beloved companion to bake this cake for.

Lamprey Cake

The lamprey is one of Thedas’s more unique-looking creatures, with its long, slender body and toothed, suction-cup mouth. It’s also one that’s seldom found in the kitchen. Unless, of course, the kitchen belongs to Lord Norbert de la Haine, whose fondness for pickled lampreys was just as unfortunate as his desire to conquer the Free Marches.

Given that Lord de la Haine’s tastes were rather singular, it’s better, I think, to bring the lamprey to the dinner table in spirit only. Rest assured, you’ll find none of its noxious flavors in this cake. I’ve limited myself to merely borrowing its shape.

Tevinter Pumpkin Bread

Granted, I didn’t need much tempting to visit Tevinter. After all, how else was I going to sample Dorian Pavus’s favorites? But if I did require some convincing, these wonderful treats would certainly do the trick! Best of all, because the ingredients are so limited, I can share this recipe with more people than ever - provided, of course, I don’t eat the whole pan myself.

Drinks

Lichen Ale

Deep underground, food is easily defined. So long as it’s edible and capable of being scavenged, it’ll eventually find its way into someone’s stomach. That being said, the surface dweller’s understanding of the word edible may not exactly align with that of an Orzammar dwarf. The best illustration of this is lichen ale, the drink of choice among the dwarves in Dust Town. Put simply, it is toxic, and I do mean that in the literal sense. In sufficient quantities, it can even overpower the heartiest of dwarven constitutions. As a result, the rest of us must approach this drink with caution. Although most can tolerate a few sips without issues, I think we’d all much rather enjoy a full glass of any beverage–particularly when we’ve made it ourselves. I, therefore, took it upon myself to devise my own rendition of lichen ale, using the dwarven recipe as a base. Now we can all enjoy the look and (most) of the flavors of the original without fear of poisoning ourselves in the process!

The Hissing Drake

During my visit to the Gilded Horn, I chanced upon a group of young men engaged in a contest of sorts. The goal? To drink as many Hissing Drakes as possible in quick succession, with the person who drank the most being crowned victor. Evidently, they’d already had a few drinks before the idea occurred to them, as no sober individual would dare down more than a single glass of the stuff at a time due to its fiery effects on the stomach. In fact, when it comes to ill-advised drinking contests, I’d say this one is a close second to the game Admiral Isabela once played, with participants drinking based on the number of enemies they had. Suffice it to say, that one killed a man. Thankfully, in this case, no one died. But I think the young men managed only two or three servings before they were forced to rush for the nearest balcony, where they were promptly divested of all their pride and bluster. I have no doubt that next time the urge to compete takes hold, they’ll follow my advice and choose a soothing Fereldan ale instead.

Hot Chocolate

Varric isn’t the only one who loves sweets. And, no, I’m not talking about myself; I’m talking about the Iron Bull! Hot chocolate is a particular favorite of his, to the point that it’s practically a necessity. Although the cocoa powder he swears by is sometimes difficult to find, it’s well worth the effort. Add hot milk and some Orlesian guimauves like the Iron Bull does, and you’ll have a drink that’s certain to please. Personally, I’m partial to topping it all off with a bit of whipped cream dusted with cinnamon, but there are many ways to dress up a cup of hot chocolate.

Antivan Sip-Sip

I was warned that this particular drink packs a bit of a bunch. More than “a bit,” I’ll say. Anyone capable of downing an entire glass of this is made of sterner stuff than I! I could scarcely manage more than a small sip each time I brought this to my lips - and that was with the added help of a tall glass of water! Perhaps that’s why it’s called a sip-sip - because each sip of it must be chased by a sip of something else.

Dragon Piss

I really hope the name is figurative. It probably is - or, at least, that’s what I’ll tell myself now that I’ve sampled this less-than-enticingly-named drink. Perhaps the name Dragon Breath would suit it better? After all, it certainly burns like a dragon’s breath - both in the glass and on the way down!

Rivaini Tea Blend

A cup of tea is often the perfect accompaniment for any sweet treat, although it can certainly be enjoyed on its own. Personally, I’d still prefer the added biscuit on the side. Not just because I like desserts–I do, of course–but because it’s great fun deciding which to pair with all the various blends.

When it comes to tea blends, the most famous is probably the classic Rivaini tea blend, a mixture of peppermint, lemon verbena, oregano, and licorice root. It’s a wonderfully soothing combination that’s said to have healing properties. In fact, I believe Empress Celene Valmont I of Orlais takes it throughout the day to alleviate headaches. Given how messy Orlesian politics are wont to be, with chevalier cousins vying for the throne and elven handmaids turned both spymaster and lover, I imagine there must be a pot of the stuff boiling at all times.

The Golden Nug

From the name, I expected this drink to be gold, but it’s actually pink! Evidently, inspiration was drawn from the living creature rather than the golden statue I passed in Haven (of which I’ve heard there is more than one). A base of white Seleney wine sweetened with a splash of West Hill Brandy dilutes the color of the pomegranate juice and mulled raspberries into a softer, pinkish hue. The goal is to imitate the color of a typical nug, after all, not a severely sunburnt one!

The Emerald Valley

The sisters of the Chantry truly make some marvelous creations - namely, the spirit used in this drink. Distilled from over seventy different herbs and flowers, it has a complex, varied flavor positively bursting with all the freshness of an emerald-green valley.

Chasind Sack Mead

After having sampled some Chasind Wildwine, I wasn’t surprised to learn that their mead is equally strong. Some might even call it brutal. For me, the flavors are almost poetic. First, there’s a nearly overwhelming rush of honey, tinged with the sour-sweetness of apple blossoms, that fills the mouth with all the bright warmth of a summer’s day. But as the initial sweetness fades, there comes an unexpected bitterness, reminiscent of the slow decay into fall, then winter. In essence, the turning of the seasons, all in a single cup - well, sack (although you can certainly fancy it up with a stunning decanter, as I’ve done here).

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