#wine cellar experts

[ourplanetourocean]

Marist Arts

[spookyblackconservative]

Phoenix Expansive a sizable, elegant wine cellar

[mary1in]

Wine Cellar Medium Los Angeles

An illustration of a medium-sized, modern wine cellar with a light wood floor and display racks

[dekariosclan]

Hello my friend!

So we all know how amazing and wonderful Gale is, how kind, good, caring and funny he is. He is, in so many ways, a perfect man.

He is, however, only human. I have the tendency to idealise him, and forget this.

My question to you is - what do you think his flaws are? Both generally and as a husband/life partner.

💜

Ohhh I love this question so much ❤️ I am a hopeless romantic, and I adore Gale’s charming, sweet, loving adorkableness! He is truly amazing—but I can confirm NOBODY (and no relationship) is ever 100% perfect.

The thing about a long-term committed relationship is that, while your partner’s charms make the relationship wonderful, their flaws are what make it REAL. And that’s just as important.

So let’s talk about our charming Gale’s less-than-charming aspects, shall we?

[warning: this went from a short & concise answer to a rambling dissertation, please prepare yourself accordingly! Also I know this ask/answer was supposed to make Gale a little less perfect and help lessen our obsession, but uhhhh, I seem to have veered hard in the opposite direction 😂]

———

First off: The Pomposity™️ (I’m not 100% certain that’s even a real word but you know what I mean right) So we all know that by the end of the game, (human) Gale has come to accept himself as he is, and decided to henceforth be known as ‘Gale Dekarios, a most brilliant wizard of intentionally limited reknown.’ He’s come a lonnng way in cutting down his ego, but let’s be honest: some of it will never truly go away. And that’s fair, because he IS brilliant, and he IS talented, and he IS extremely passionate about magic.

…but it’s tough to remember all that and give him a pass when that usually-oh-so-adorable-finger-in-the-air is now aimed at YOU, as he declares that ‘after all, he IS an expert on [*insert topic here*] because he WAS awarded [*insert scholarly award here*] from the one and only [*insert impressive Blackstaff Academy professor here.*]’

And all you wanted was for your opinion to be taken into consideration regarding the wine selection at dinner.

———

Second: The Disarray / Messiness. Gale has a brilliant mind, one that he applies full throttle to any and all situations: concentration on magic spells, lance board strategy, calculations, poring over ancient tomes, and even figuring out how to cook something edible out of rotting fish heads and some moldy cheese (no veggies, though!)

The problem is, while his mind is brilliant and he will keep it laser-focused on his chosen subject at that current moment, from a day-to-day perspective he is straight-up scatter brained with all the things he has his hands in. We can see this in his vision of his tower: BOOKS. BOOKS EVERYWHERE. Some stacked in piles, some shoved onto shelves, some left open on the page he was reading when he got distracted, etc.

We also get confirmation of this from Tara in the epilogue:

Tara: The way he leaves his potions in absolute disarray—I know for certain he wasn’t raised in a barn, but you’d never know it.

It’s one thing to have books & potions & scrolls scattered throughout his library and sitting room—you have no complaints against that, you HAVE moved in with/married a wizard, after all—but to find them in the kitchen, wine cellar, even occasionally stuffed into your own wardrobe? It’s a bit much.

TLDR: Our rizzard is a hot mess.

———

Which leads us into perhaps his biggest flaw: The Fussiness.

So about all those books everywhere, on everything, all at once? You didn’t try and ARRANGE them or organize them for him, did you?…You did?! Oh, gods! No, no, he had an ORDER to them, you see, and he knew that the exact spell he needed could be found in the third book down in the stack next to the piano, page 453, why did you ever decide to move it?

Well, you explain as patiently as you can, it was in the way, and frankly you could tell from the dust on it that he hadn’t touched it in several yea—

BY ELMINSTER’S ELBOW, did you ALPHABETIZE his illusion scrolls??! Oh, for the love of—!

You get the picture.

There would undoubtedly be moments when you found yourself fully exasperated by this man and his exacting, fussy nature.

———

All that being said: true fights would be rare.

The occasional huffy remark or quickly-forgotten gripe would occur now and then as in any relationship, but a real, anger-filled argument? With heightened emotions and hurt feelings? Rare indeed.

The only thing bigger than Gale’s brain is his heart. And while his mind is dedicated to a great many things as mentioned above (magic studies, lance board, etc) his heart is 100% dedicated TO YOU, and you alone. So on those rare occasions after a fight has occurred, it does not take long for him to come down from the heat of the moment and realize, oh, hells, he’s been an ass, hasn’t he?

He knows you love him. His anxiety about not being enough for you has long since disappeared, and he’s calmed his worries that you would ever leave him, but still…there’s always a lingering concern that maybe you’ll grow distant from him after an argument.

If you are in the wrong and he is certain of it, he will be stiffly polite until you offer an apology, and then he will be taking you in his arms, kissing you passionately and telling you ‘all is forgiven my love, let’s never speak of this again’ (and trying hard to hide his relief that you apologized first, because he was not sure how long he would be able to hold out and stay mad at you.)

If HE is in the wrong, though? And you are truly mad at him? And he knows he really stuck his foot in it? Oh, boy.

You’ll be treated to an apology so eloquent it would make poets weep, and it will come packaged with hand-holding, pouting, pleading, and Gale getting down on his (bad) knees.

And if you’re still mad at him after that?

Well, then you’ll have to complete a gauntlet harder than anything Shar could ever throw at you. You’ll have to try and stay angry, explain your anger, AND explain to Gale why he won’t be easily forgiven, all while looking directly at this:

And this:

AND THIS:

…

…needless to say you will be failing, and hard.

Not that you mind, because the make-up sex will be absolutely phenomenal. Gale doesn’t just want to repair your loving bond after you’ve had an argument, he wants to improve it. Which requires much study and experimentation, of course.

And for awhile afterwards, all will be bliss again.

…until you find a pile of scrolls shoved under your side of the bed, and some open books scattered across your dresser, and you decide it time to do some organizing. ———

So yes, my friend. Gale definitely does have some flaws, and at some point they WOULD drive you crazy in any sort of relationship you have with him. Gale is wonderful, Gale is loving, but Gale isn’t perfect!!

…but when he takes you in his arms after you’ve made up, and his mouth is hungrily devouring yours, and he’s murmuring words of adoration against your skin as he trails his kisses down your neck, chest, hips—

Nevermind! I take it all back. He’s perfect. 😂

[ranpowriter]

On BSD’s Poe and The Cask of Amontillado — methodical violence

For all that Poe is characterized as soft (and rightfully so) I’ve always thought it was curious how easily he is given to violence, especially as it relates to Ranpo.

For the below analysis of Poe, I will be comparing Poe to the narrator of the Cask of Amontillado, Ranpo to Fortunado, and Poe’s novel to specific part of the catacombs where Fortunado was walled in.

1. The Motive

Poe spent 6 years plotting the murder of a man who beat him in a detective competition, which I’m fairly certain is a reference to the narrator in Cask of Amontillado (abbreviated hence as Cask)

when [Fortunado] ventured upon insult I vowed revenge

Fortunado is the man the narrator kills, and for a similar reason to which Poe wanted to kill Ranpo (humiliation). In fact, this entire first paragraph delves into reasoning that Poe follows in his revenge against Ranpo. Notably:

[A wrong] is equally unredressed when the avenger fails to make himself felt as such to him who has done the wrong.

And Poe makes it very clear to Ranpo that he felt humiliated by Ranpo, and what he felt humiliated by. He tries to make himself felt to Ranpo, and we see this with how he tries to remind the detective of their history.

2. The Identity and Treatment of the Victim

Both Ranpo and Fortunado are:

1. Better than and are arrogant about a skill which the narrator also takes pride in. Ranpo is astonishingly brilliant (moreso than Poe) while Fortunado is someone who “prided himself on his connoisseurship in wine” and the narrator is also “skilful in the Italian vintage”. Ranpo also repeatedly brags about his intelligence/super-deduction and calls other people stupid, just like Fortunado insists that he is the better expert on wine than the other people the narrator brings up, and calls one of them “an ignoramus”.

2. Killed (or attempted to be killed) by in a test of the aforementioned, shared skill. Ranpo is lured into a mystery novel while Fortunado is lured into a cellar to taste wine.

3. People who will be missed, “unlike” the killer. Ranpo is the agency’s pillar while Poe works for the guild which is all “money and violence”. Poe even remarks that he envied Ranpo’s praise, and that he himself cannot stomach the world much. Fortunado was said by the narrator to be “rich, respected, admired, beloved; you are happy, as once I was. You are a man to be missed”.

4. “Lucky” people. Poe viewed Ranpo as lucky for being the holder of glory and praise and for being blessed with the super deduction ability, unlike the “disgraced” Poe. Fortunado’s name literally means fortunate.

5. Locked in a place to die where others have already died. As the novel’s murderer, Ranpo likely would’ve been one of if not the last person to die, and when he did he’d have died among corpses, much like Fortunado died in the catacombs.

6. Meant to be slowly killed. Since again, Ranpo(‘s character) would’ve probably outlasted everyone else it’s likely that it would’ve taken a while for him to die, while Fortunado is literally walled into the cellar and presumably died of dehydration/starvation/suffocation/etc. It’s also possible that has Ranpo not figured out the killer, he would’ve died of the same cause (since, who knows if there was food in that novel).

3. Method of Madness — fair and escapable, up to a point

To me, the above similarities that Poe is like the narrator as well. This in mind, and considering canon actions, I do think that Poe is intensely and easily given to violence when moved to be. However, I also think this happens only in regard to Ranpo.

However, I also think he is principled and intentional about this violence. He gives Ranpo a fair chance. He has all the Guild’s resources at his disposal and probably could’ve done more to kill the man of all he wanted to do was kill, but no—he wanted to beat Ranpo at his own game. He wanted to redress the insult he suffered as the narrator of Cask did when he lured Fortunado into a game.

The narrator of Cask of Amontillado invited (did not force, only perhaps poke the ego of) Fortunado gave Fortunado plenty of chances to leave, even offered multiple times to take him back out when he began to cough / show ill health (though depending on interpretation, these may have been done to goad Fortunado into continuing). Similarly, Poe gave Ranpo a challenge (which he willingly took) and every chance to back out before he entered the book.

However, as Fortunado’s desire to prove his skill in wine tasting led him to be walled into the catacombs, Ranpo’s desire for the Guild info led him into the book. From there, both of their situations were escapable (or at least they were meant to be).

Also, if you’re wondering why I think the novel is specifically the part of the catacombs that Fortunado was walled into (and not the trip down to the catacombs itself), just look at this image:

Bricked in, much like Fortunado.

All of this leads me to believe that to Poe, revenge was not about the ends, but the method. The ends had no meaning of the method did not address his revenge appropriately. Poe himself suggests this as well when he mentions that the Guild’s violence bores him. The Guild’s violence is just violence, but Poe’s violence towards Ranpo is methodical, intentional, meaningful, and cruel. This leads me into…

4. Blasé Regard of Violence

Take this scene from the Cask:

“Enough,” he said; “the cough is a mere nothing; it will not kill me. I shall not die of a cough.”

“True — true,

And this scene from chapter 32:

It’s a bit subtle, but both killers reference that their victim is going to die. The narrator in Cask says “true” because indeed Fortunado would not die of a cough, but of whatever killed him in the catacombs. And in Poe’s eyes (since he believed he would successfully kill Ranpo), Ranpo would “practically die to secure that info”.

Neither of them feel guilt, or even give a thought about feeling guilt, for what they’re doing.

I also want to note that I don’t think either the narrator in Cask nor Poe necessarily enjoy the inflicting of violence. They just… do it. The violence is not blood or pain to relish in, but the vector of their revenge. When Yosano “dies” in the novel and Ranpo is anguished, Poe does not shout about delighting in Ranpo’s misery, but rather is just glad to have beaten him.

The violence is part of these two killers’ method, and the method does matter to them (more than the outcome, even), but the violence is not the part of the method that matters. It is an avenue through which the method is delivered.

As a closing note, I also leave with you the observation that we only get the name of the narrator of The Cask of Amontillado, Montresor, at the very end of the story (when Fortunado has been almost completely walled in), just as Ranpo only claims to remember Poe after he’s gotten out of the novel.

My personal thoughts on Poe’s relationship to Ranpo (IE, not analysis of Poe and Cask) will be below the cut.

—

Personal RanPoe Thoughts

Poe is a little insane.

I really do like thinking about his desire to take violent revenge on Ranpo without actually caring about the violence part is a super cool thing to explore.

I also, again, think that this disposition to violence is Ranpo-specific; that Poe would not be as violent towards anyone other than Ranpo or unless Ranpo was involved. Ranpo and all his arrogance and brilliance. Ranpo as the loved, praised man he is.

I also do not think Poe wants to hurt Ranpo anymore, just for the record (and again I don’t think it was ever about causing harm, just satisfying his own vengeance), neither do I view him as possessive (I mean, we see him happily cheering for Ranpo’s intellectual prowess being recognized during the Perfect Crime arc).

What I do think is that Poe is willing to do just about anything for Ranpo, and to extremes. We see that he easily bets on Guild secrets away—screwing over the group that pays him an unholy amount of money—in order to have Ranpo’s attention and that he’ll write entire books on Ranpo’s whims (I haven’t counted the number of books Ranpo’s used throughout the manga but it’s not a small number of entire novels written in what I assume was less than a year). And while we haven’t seen Poe be violent again, I do think it’s possible.

This is all to say, if you wanna know where my brain has been today, it’s been thinking up scenes like this:

It was plain to see that Ranpo was made to be loved. His voice was loud, his grins were broad, and no better was there ever a moment to celebrate than when he snatched up his glasses and declared,

“Now, my super-deduction will reveal the truth behind this case!”

To deny Ranpo the right to be loved by the public was to deny who Ranpo was. Poe would have nothing else but the whole of him locked at the forefront of his mind.

I think this interpretation is also neat to think about in regards to the recent arc, but I didn’t have the brain space to write something like that today.

I have more RanPoe thoughts, but those will have to wait until a later post (as this is meant to specifically be focused on Poe, The Cask of Amontillado, and violence). Soon, soon.

To be explored in the future… Ranpo’s and Poe’s relationships to feelings of alienation.

[diejager]

My deep dark desire for a distillery au wherein each force is a competing distillery and you yeet an expert taster reader in there who is in charge of judging each whisky and ranking them. Either they are pulling out all the stops on your tour and treating you like a princess or doing the opposite and threatening you to rank them the highest :')

Mhairi, I am the worse person to ask about whiskey, my parents have delicious smelling ones, fruity and spicy ones, but taste wise? I gag like there’s no tomorrow, especially gin!! I hate gin. The only thing I can stomach so far is sweet, coffee and cream flavoured Baileys Irish Cream. (I know there’s Irish whiskey in it, but it’s only 17% compared to the 40% of any other whiskeys)

Eau De Vie Cw: Alcohol drinking, whiskey taste, tell me if I missed any.

Whisky had always been your favourite, your little secret that you shared with your closest friends alone —your penchent for judging whiskeys and bourbons alone, managing to include rum and brandy in rare occasions. So when you were approached by a known figure in the Whiskey industry that acted as the face for many distilleries across the world, you couldn’t turn down the offer when you were given so much in a simple deal.

You were responsible to drink and rank many popular brands by taste and smell alone, the only person delegated to become the judge. You were given the privilege of taking home a bottle of each brand after this competition, another reason to accept it. So you signed the contract without a second of hesitation, shaking her hand to conclude the deal before she left you squirming with excitement in your office home.

You were flown from your city to a calm part of the Scottish countryside, a chalet overlooking the Scottish highlands and its green beauty. This was the quaint house you would temporarily live in with the rest of the team orchestrating this friendly competition, leaving the connecting house up the cliff side to the different distilleries. From what you’ve heard, Kate Laswell - Kate you called her after a few meetings that had fully bloomed into a friendship of alcohol connoissoir - the participating teams were the British company 141 - who in coalition to Chimera and the ULF - would represent their alliance, the American Shadows, the multi-national KorTac and the Russian brewery Konni. They were all popular brands distilling whiskey and brandy in their own countries, creating a plethora of tastes and sensations that would explode on your tongue after a few sips.

You were ecstatic, your mouth salivating at the simple thought of tasting the finest whiskeys from around the world, but you had a few days to rest and tour the side of Scotland you were shipped to. What you expected to be calm and mild-mannered men and women from their side of the world to meet and eat with refined etiquette, was shattered the second you peered through the door after walking down the connecting path from your chalet to their house.

They were loud, rambunctious in the very sense of it, loud and jovial, hurling insults and hissing out jeers at one another. It was a dogfight between brewers, like cats and dogs. You felt like a stranger, gawking at the group hurling words at one another until it all stopped, the open living room falling in silence when they heard you drop your bag on the polished wood. You’ve never seen humans move so fast until the second after the silence, scrambling to clean the room up and wooing you with their compliments and sweet pleasantries to appease you.

They gave you a tour of the house, the rich wine cellar that was open to you whenever you wanted a drink, the wooden patio that had it’s own lounge and bar, and the various rooms in the mansion-like chalet. They all vied for your attention, ripping one another’s throat to have a second of your attention, kissing up to you with sweet compliments and even sweeter praises.

The Brits - well, three English and one Scott - were a good mix of mature and zealousness, low voices and near-overwhelming figures with their broad shoulders and stocky mass. They came with other people to represent their company: Farah and her devoted Alex from ULF, and the crude Nikolai and Krueger from Chimera.

The Shadows were American, the most American you’ve ever seen, energetic and determined to win you over, and the CEO, a man with a southern accent and a seductive smirk, swiping you off your feet with pet names that made you fluster.

KorTac had as many accents as they had people of different countries, both men and women skilled in multiple languages and conversing so fluently that you started to question if you were on the same planet.

Konni was rough on the edges, their leading figure as scheming as he was gentlemanly, his thin lips letting out the most vicious praises to have you squirming under his dark gaze and unmoving determination for the win.

Days later, you met them at the compound farther down the road, away from the beauty of the coast and cliff, a long table exposing their finest to you. Poured in a cups, one with ice and another without, they were left for you to decide which would win the prize for both straight and on the rocks. Today was the day you would nominate one as the best, standing higher than everyone else without bias despite the times they rendered you a flustered mess and made you unendingly grateful for their help.

Your pallet exploded with flavour every time you sipped on a different brand, eyes rolling to the back of your head with the deliciousness of every bottle. 141 brought three bottles of their aged whiskey: a smoky Scotch Whisky made in the same Highlands you were tasting it, the bitter spiciness of rye whiskey from the American branch of the ULF - credits to Alex for introducing it - and the woody and fruity aroma of Chimera’s whiskey. Shadows had brought - unsurprisingly - their most popular types of whiskey to the table: Bourbon made in their own distillery in Kentucky, a sweet and mellow sub-type of their first one and the smooth flavour of their wheat whiskey. KorTac had a large variety to it’s collection: a floral tasting whiskey that outmatched Hibiki Harmony, a nutty sensation of a bottle made in Ireland and the rich and peaty on of a danish-made bottle. And finally, three Russian bottles from the biggest distillery in Russia: a sweet and smoky bottle, a second one with rich malt and honey, and a third focusing on aroma with it’s spicy odour and fruity taste.

They were all so delicious, if you had these bottles when you working at the bar, mixing concoctions for paying clients, you would’ve been overjoyed, but those days were long gone, your priority standing elsewhere than fulfilling your dream. Truthfully, you didn’t know who to give the medal, the flavours so vast and unique. Perhaps they wouldn’t mind if you took a second or third sip just to be sure.

Part 2

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[withacapitalp]

How to Rehabilitate a Jock Pt 17

Part One Link to ao3 Part 16

A speedy update? Couldn't be me lmao

Step Seventeen: Tell a Story

The party really wasn’t like any of the ragers he used to throw, but in Steve’s opinion that made it a thousand times better. 

From his vantage point on the arm of the couch, Steve could see everything, and all looked to be going well. All of the parents had quickly clustered together around the big dining room table, smoking and playing cards as they reminisced about the good old days and enjoyed the wine Steve had broken out of the cellar. Mike and Lucas were sprawled out across the floor, their books in piles around them as they designed new characters and argued about the best way to win against dragons, while Nancy and Jonathan had curled up together on the loveseat by the window, sharing a cup of cocoa and quietly whispering about god knows what. 

It all seemed peaceful. 

So naturally Steve was sitting next to the most chaotic conversation he had ever heard. 

“In terms of controlling the fight and better initiative, it’s the halberd. Hands down,” Frank declared. He was putting emphasis on every single word, as if doing so would somehow sway the three preteens throwing him impressively dry looks. 

“That’s assuming you have the speed and dexterity necessary to gain that advantage,” Dustin sighed, shaking his head and tutting. “The greatsword is not only faster, but it is shorter, which makes the swing that much more versatile.”

Mike and Lucas sagely nodded along from their spot on the floor next to Dustin. the calmness of the action only riling Frank up even more.

“Reach is speed on its own!” He snapped, tossing his hands in the air, turning to the others for help. Steve bit down the laugh that was attempting to escape, doing his best to appear supportive, and Eddie was already reaching over to give his friend the conciliatory pat on the shoulder. 

Steve wasn’t exactly positive how the debate had started, but it had to have been at least fifteen minutes of furious back and forth between the two. It was pretty entertaining to watch, made even better by the quiet comments Eddie would whisper up to Steve when he was sure no one else was listening. 

“Careful there Frank,” Jeff called from the other side of the room, not looking up from Will’s sketchbook as he did, “you sound like you’re losing to a twelve year old.”

“I am not losing,” Frank ground out. 

“I’m not twelve!” Dustin protested.

“Of course you aren’t losing, Frankie,” Eddie interjected, his tone practically dripping with false kindness. He accompanied the words with a brief pat to the top of Frank’s head. 

“Dustin just isn’t opening his mind to the possibilities that your elder brain has already thought through,” Steve added on, his stomach doing a weird flip-flop when Eddie turned to look up at him with a little gremlin smile. Teasing friends was different when it really was just teasing, and Steve couldn’t resist the urge to jump in and knock at Frank a little for getting so into a debate with the kids. 

“Okay just because you play now doesn’t make you an expert, Steve,” Mike added on, never one to miss a chance to try and knock Steve down a peg. Steve, very maturely, rolled his eyes and chose not to reply. 

“How about it, Sweetheart?” Eddie asked, looking up at Steve where he was sitting perched on the arm of the couch, “halberd or Greatsword?”

“Steve, if you don’t choose the sword, I will feel personally betrayed,” Dustin spat out before Steve could even open his mouth. It was accompanied by a murderous looking glower, and Steve knew trouble was starting to brew on the horizon. 

“Eh, I think Baby might have a problem if I start using a different weapon,” He said, staying neutral and dragging the boys into a different conversation before feelings started to actually get hurt. 

“Baby?”

Fuck. 

Steve’s whole body stiffened up, and he glanced quickly at Eddie before turning away, mind racing to come up with an explanation. How the hell was he supposed to casually bring up the bat studded with nails that was sitting in the trunk of his BMW?

“Okay, but we’re talking in game, not real life!” Lucas objected, keeping the conversation flowing and unintentionally bypassing Eddie’s question. 

“Baby would be more effective than a halberd though,” Dustin pointed out, and Mike hummed in disagreement, flipping the pages of the manual in front of him as he looked for a counter argument.

“So who’s Baby?” Eddie asked quietly as they continued the debate, leaning back towards Steve so only he could hear the words. He was looking up at Steve with those big doe eyes, completely at peace with a soft smile and lax shoulders. He was the picture of calmness, and Steve wouldn’t ruin that with the Upside Down, not even in the most roundabout way. 

“I’m gonna get a refill,” Steve whispered to him instead, reaching down to quickly run his fingers through Eddie’s curls impulsively before standing up and stretching. He felt the hem of his maroon sweater ride up over his hips, and the boys groaned as the bottom half of Steve’s stomach came into view. “Do you want anything, Eds?” 

“Um no, ‘m okay,” Eddie said, his voice uncharacteristically small. Steve relaxed from his stretch, giving Eddie a quick once over. He looked the same as before, save for a slight color on his cheeks and averted downward facing eyes. 

Weird. 

Something to check on. 

But later. First Steve had to take a lap. 

“Dustin, don’t make Frank blow a gasket,” Steve ordered as he passed by, pushing the kids hat down over his eyes. Dustin growled at him and waved his arms blindly in an attempt to smack Steve away, but Steve easily dodged it, sliding over to the edge of the living room and down the stairs to the wine cellar. 

“Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid,” Steve muttered to himself as he picked two bottles at random. How could he have said something like that? He wasn’t even drunk! It had just slipped out, but that didn’t make it okay. Sure, the very existence of Baby wasn’t covered by the NDA’s, but just knowing about her would be enough to make Eddie curious, and curiosity led to more questions, which lead to more answers, which lead to more danger. 

Steve’s stomach flipped over on itself, and he leaned back against the cool stone wall of the cellar, worrying his lip as he tried to take a deep breath. 

There wasn’t any danger. Not anymore. It was just a party, and it was just one little sentence. Eddie would forget about it by the time he walked back up the stairs. He was working himself up over nothing. 

Or everything. 

‘Or’ might just be the scariest word in the world, Steve thought to himself as he climbed up the stairs feeling about ten thousand pounds heavier. He trudged over to the kitchen and quickly opened both bottles, leaving one to air out as he carried the other over to the dining room table, silently listening to the adults as they gossiped. 

“It’s such an insane story,” Sue Sinclair was saying in a quiet breathy voice as Steve walked in, barely even noticing as he started refilling her glass, “it’s hard to believe.” 

“It was harder to live through,” Hopper replied, extremely somber as he gravely shook his head.

Steve bit the inside of his cheek to keep from making a noise and giving up the act. He looked up just a bit to make eye contact with Joyce, who was also clearly hiding a smile behind her hand. 

“Maybe we should pause this conversation?” Karen asked lightly, politely jutting her chin out towards Steve who continued to pour without comment. 

“Steve knows,” Hopper quickly smoothed over. 

“He babysits Jane with the others,” Joyce added on, giving Steve a secretive look as she continued, “such a big help with acclimating her.”

All eyes were on him now, and Steve played his part perfectly. He poured the last of the bottle into Hopper’s glass and stepped back with a sigh. 

“She’s a great kid. Amazing even, after everything she’s been through,” Steve said, his voice pitched to the ultimate tone of caring worry. 

This seemed to seal the deal for the rest of the adults, and they fell one by one. Hook, line, and sinker. The women were twittering on about how sad the whole story was, and the men were shaking their heads and muttering to Hopper about how drugs were going to ruin the nation. 

Everything was going to plan. 

Steve couldn’t help the little burst of pride he felt watching all of the parents gossiping like hens. He was the one to come up with El’s cover story, and it couldn’t have been going better. 

El might not be allowed to go to school until next year, but Steve didn’t see a point in keeping her locked up in the cabin until then like Hopper wanted. The government knew she was alive now, and she had all her paperwork. Besides, having her drop out of the blue sky into one of the most unforgiving social settings on the planet was a complete recipe for disaster. 

This party had been the perfect test run for the story they were going to use to explain her sudden appearance, and it had passed with flying colors. But Steve had known it would work, never had any doubt despite everyone else’s concerns. 

He knew because he knew this town like the back of his hand. If you gave them a good enough story, something juicy and wild but with enough reality that it would stick, then they would buy it. Not only would they buy it, but they would sell it to everyone else on the block too. Now that Sue Sinclair, Claudia Henderson, and Karen Wheeler had the ‘truth’, El would fly into Hawkins High with only minimal odd looks and the occasional jerky kid to deal with. 

And what was the best cover story for a girl like El? 

“I just can’t believe that there was a suicide cult right here in Indiana,” Chuck Sinclair commented, sitting back in his seat. “How did no one know about it?”

“There was no way to leave without being killed. Anyone who would have told someone was killed. Brenner, the one in charge, was convinced he could create dimensions to other worlds and give children superpowers with LSD, if you can believe it,” Joyce replied, laying on the shock and surprise a little thick in Steve’s opinion. Still, whatever got the rest of them on board.  

“Ridiculous,” Ted Wheeler muttered, sounding absolutely disgusted. 

“We’re just lucky we found Will and Jane when we did. We were too late for the others,” Hopper paused to take a long slow sip of his drink, really selling the story. He even lowered his voice, causing them all to lean in, “The feds want to keep it real hush hush, and we were so afraid for the kids that we just went along with that bullshit water contamination story. But I mean, c’mon. Water contamination? Those people disappeared.” 

A round of mutters among the group, and then Karen Wheeler spoke up. 

“But Barbara Holland using drugs? I knew Barb her entire life. She always had such a good head on her shoulders,” She said, grief coating every word. Steve dragged a sharp breath in, holding the bottle close to his chest and forcing himself to stay still and silent as Hopper and Joyce did their best to explain. 

This was the part that sucked. To make the story work, really work, it had to involve everyone. Benny, Barb, Will, even the two hunters. All of them had to be explained, or the story fell apart. It felt dishonest to make Barb a part of it all, but El was still here, and Steve still had a chance to help her. 

For El. It was all for El. 

“That’s how the commies get you,” Ted remarked to Karen the second Hop was done speaking. “We’re just lucky she didn’t bring Nancy into it.” 

Steve bit his tongue to keep from lashing out. This wasn’t about him or his guilt. It was about El. 

“At least you saved that precious little girl,” Claudia breathed, hand still over her heart as her eyes glistened with tears. “It all must have been so scary for her. Does she know… you know… about her mother?”

“She does, but she doesn’t like to talk about it,” Hopper laid both hands out on the table 

“Listen, we really shouldn’t have said anything to you all.”

This was it. This was the moment that would tell them what was going to happen from here on out. Steve held his breath

“Our lips are sealed, Jim,” Chuck said instantly, the rest of the group nodding along. “Last thing any of us would want to do is put your daughter or Joyce’s son in danger. Whether it’s the government or some freaky cult stragglers.” 

There it was. 

In a small town like Hawkins, lips were always sealed. People said they wouldn’t say a word, they promised to keep a secret, but Steve had no doubt that by the end of the week the entire town would be abuzz with the story. The best part was, there was no one that would end up hurt. Hopper looked like a hero, Joyce went from local crazy woman to single mother who did everything to protect her baby, and El was just a poor child who was rescued from an insane terrible man. 

It was the truth, just… shifted ever so slightly. No lies involved. Not really. Just a perspective on it. 

The mood and the topic began to move, and Steve moved with it. He went to escape out the side door back to the living room, but as he went past her Joyce reached out, taking his wrist in her small hand and squeezing it once. It was a tiny display of affection, barely anything, but it stopped Steve in his tracks, making his heart do strange weird things that left his chest aching. 

Damn. 

“Are you alright?” Joyce murmured to him below the sound of the conversation. 

“Yeah?” Steve replied, unspoken question sitting between them as Joyce continued to hold onto his wrist. 

“You looked upset when you came in,” She observed. That was the best and worst part of Joyce, she never let anything drop. It reminded Steve a lot of Nancy actually, both of them so determined to get to the bottom of everything, even when it was best to just leave it alone. 

Of course it had to be Joyce. 

“‘I’m okay,” Steve said, trying for a thin little smile. 

Joyce hummed, rubbing her thumb over Steve’s arm as she forced him to keep eye contact until the fake smile slipped from his face. 

“It’s not a big deal,” Steve said, a dark cloud coming over him as Joyce continued to hold on. It was the same thing as Nancy. Stifling, impossible to be around, a feeling of claustrophobia that would never fully go away. 

It wasn’t any of Joyce’s business. It wasn’t like she was his mother. 

“Well, if you need anything you can always come to me or Hop,” Joyce said after a too long silence, releasing Steve’s arm. “We’re here for you guys too, not just the kids.”

“You’re allowed to not be okay.”

Eddie. 

Since he had said those words, they had been permanently branded in the forefront of Steve’s mind. Every time he tried to forget them, they returned with a vengeance, hitting him directly in the soft spot right above his breastbone. 

It wasn’t like Steve didn’t know that. He knew that he was allowed to not be okay. He did. But it was silly for him not to be okay, because nothing had really happened to him. Will was the one who had ended up in the Upside Down. Nancy’s best friend had died. El had been fucking tortured for her entire life. 

In comparison Steve’s problems were so small it was laughable. 

So why was everyone trying so hard to tell him that they mattered? 

“Steve?” 

Steve had never been so happy to hear one of his kids. 

A hush fell over the adults as El popped her head around the corner, immediately coming over to Steve’s side and pressing close, trying to avoid the obvious stares coming from everyone else. They were looking at her with a mixture of pity and concern, but it was better than fear. 

“Hi Janey,” Steve said, playing with her curls and shooting her a warm grin, “you doin’ okay?”

El shrugged, burrowing impossibly further into Steve’s grip. 

“The others are being loud,” She said softly. Steve sighed, petting her hair again. He and Hop had talked about the possibility of this being too much for her, same as the Snowball. This party was mostly made up of her people, but even her people could be overwhelming. 

Luckily, Steve already had an idea in place. 

“Would you mind helping me with something?” Steve asked, already gently nudging El towards the doorway and into the kitchen. 

Making cookies was the perfect ‘cool down away from people so you don't have a meltdown and psychically destroy Steve's house’ activity. Steve had learned that El really enjoyed cooking, and although she couldn’t use her powers to get the flour down from the high shelf like she usually would if it was just them, she was still having fun. 

“Don’t listen to anyone who tells you oatmeal raisin cookies are bad,” Steve instructed, rolling out another ball of dough and placing it carefully on the cookie sheet. “They’re stupid and childish.”

“Mike hates oatmeal raisin,” El cheerfully replied, licking the spoon that Steve had handed to her when he was done mixing the batter. 

Now that it was just the two of them, she had relaxed. She was sitting on the counter next to where he was working, ever so slightly bobbing her head along to the music filtering in from the living room. Steve had relaxed along with her, all of the previous troubles of the night fading away, replaced by the smell of cinnamon sugar and the warmth of the oven heating up. 

“My point exactly. Mike hates everything great,” Steve countered, dabbing a bit of cookie batter onto the tip of El’s nose. She laughed softly, and stuck her tongue out, trying to reach the offending treat. 

“Mike likes me,” El shot back, continuing to try and touch her tongue to her nose. Steve watched her struggle for a second more before shaking his head and reaching around her to grab a paper towel. 

“Well, even a broken clock is right twice a day,” Steve whispered conspiratorially as he wiped her face clean. This started up another round of giggles, and Steve laughed along with her, his entire body feeling light for the first time all day. 

He loved each of his kids for different reasons- even Mike- but El was just so easy. The rest of them couldn't help the compulsive urge to be difficult little hell beasts. They were always trying to show off how smart they were, which usually meant disparaging Steve’s intelligence to some degree. Even Will couldn’t resist a few snarky comments when he thought Steve was being overprotective.

But El thought Steve was one of the smartest people in the world, and she was always telling him so. It was objectively untrue, but it was fun to get to show her how to do things without being afraid of being told he was doing them wrong. Even something as simple as baking cookies was an opportunity to give her a new happy experience, and getting to be a part of that was kind of magical. 

“How about this- we’ll tell Mike you made these and you’ll see just how quickly oatmeal raisin becomes his favorite cookie,” Steve offered. 

“Sounds like fun,” A familiar voice said from the doorway, making Steve’s heart skip a beat. 

Steve turned around and gave Eddie a pleased grin, waving him in and turning around to finish up with the dough.

“Hey Eds,” Steve said as Eddie leaned into his space and snagged a bite. Eddie hummed appreciatively, going for another taste but Steve smacked his hand with his spoon before he could.

“You’ll get sick eating that,” Steve pointed out. 

“So mean,” Eddie said with a fake pout. He pulled away from Steve, walking around the kitchen aimlessly with swinging arms, “I was just wondering where our liege had run off to. Apparently you went to guide a wayward princess through the fine art of confectionary creation.” 

Said ‘princess’ was staring at Eddie with open distrust. Her spoon had been abandoned beside her, and her arms were wrapped tight around her middle. Steve was immediately reminded of her initial reaction to Max. Although they were thick as thieves now, El had been cold to her too at the start. Steve had figured it was some sort of pre-teen jealousy thing over Mike. 

Apparently it was just an all around jealousy thing. It made sense though. A girl who had nothing would protect whatever she had with ferocious intensity, especially her people. Time to do a little damage control. 

“Eddie’s my friend, and he said he wanted to be friends with you too,” Steve said, pitching his voice soft and low as he reframed things for El. If Eddie was one of her people, then she wouldn’t be quite so possessive over Steve’s time. “He’s a little loud, and a little scary looking, but he’s probably the nicest person I know.” 

Eddie raised his eyebrows in surprise, but Steve just shrugged. He was just being honest, Eddie probably was the nicest person Steve knew. He cared about Nancy and Jonathan, and he loved the kids, but none of them were necessarily very nice. Eddie had taken Steve in without even really thinking about it, which would have been amazing even if Steve had just been another nerd.

The fact that Steve used to be one of the people who would have made fun of people like Eddie only made him even better in Steve’s eyes. 

El’s mouth pursed into a tiny little scowl, and she narrowed her eyes, evaluating Eddie where he stood. 

“Bitchin’,” El said after a moment, punctuating the word with an approving nod. It was probably the closest thing to approval Eddie could earn at this moment. 

“Yeah, Babydoll’s totally bitchin,’” Steve said with a laugh, stretching the word out just because it was funny to see Eddie turn bright red. Steve wasn’t sure if it was from the compliment or the silly nickname, but either way he was enjoying it. 

“It’s good to meet you, Miss Jane,” Eddie said, coughing and trying to will away the blush on his cheeks, “Steve’s told me a lot about you.” 

El turned to look at Steve, adorably confused by Eddie’s statement. Steve stiffened up, avoiding his knee jerk impulse to shake his head. He hadn’t told Eddie anything real about El, just the same story that Hopper and Joyce were selling to the parents. But El wasn’t good with secrets at the best of times, and the elaborate intricate story that they had woven would probably be too much for her. 

“El? EL!” 

“Mike, stop shouting!” Steve said, shouting himself, relieved at being interrupted before things could get hairy. He rolled his eyes and shot Eddie a look, calm now that Eddie seemed less curious about El and more fondly annoyed with Mike and his antics. “We’re in the kitchen.”  

Pandemonium as all four boys trooped in, clustering around El and chattering their heads off like they always did. Steve let out the breath he had unintentionally been holding, leaning back against the counter as he watched the kids mess around. 

“Steve, stop hogging her,” Mike snapped as he pulled away from El, glowering at him with all of the brutality of a two week old puppy. 

“El’s a person, not a toy. She can do something without you and that doesn’t mean she likes you any less,” Steve said, ignoring Mike’s sputtering denials as he helped El down from the counter, “The oven has to preheat anyway. Why don’t you go inside with them, and when the cookies are ready, you can help me dunk them in the icing?” 

El nodded, allowing herself to be pulled away by the boys. But just as she passed Eddie she stopped, grabbing onto the sleeve of his leather jacket and looking up at him from behind her curls. 

“You’ll join us?” She asked. Eddie leaned down so they were the same height and nodded, reaching out to ruffle her curls. 

“I’ll be here, Lady Jane,” Eddie promised. 

“El,” She corrected. 

That was big, even if Eddie didn’t fully realize it. It wasn’t exactly a full acceptance, but only people El actually liked were allowed to use her ‘real’ name. 

“El?” Eddie questioned. 

“A nickname. Not sure where she got it,” Steve stepped in, smoothing out the wrinkle before it could even form. He nudged Lucas, pushing them all towards the door, “Now scram, twerps.”

The kids all immediately began to groan and whisper curses under their breath at the word ‘twerps’, and they dragged El out without another word to Eddie or Steve. Steve turned and began to gather the dishes, dumping them all into the sink and turning on the water. As he started scrubbing, Steve felt more than saw Eddie’s presence approaching him. 

“I think she likes me,” Eddie sang, leaning all of his weight against Steve. He caught Eddie easily, carrying both of their weights as he continued to do the dishes. 

“What’s not to like?” Steve asked. The question was rhetorical, but the shaky little breath inward that Eddie let out wasn’t. Steve paused, sensing the mood shifting, put down the bowl he was holding and faced Eddie. 

He looked wrecked, inexplicably upset and almost guilty as he chewed on his lip and searched for words. All Steve wanted to do was wrap him in a hug and ask what was wrong, but he held back. Whatever Eddie was trying to say, it was important. 

“Steve-”

But whatever Eddie was going to say was interrupted by the sound of an engine outside. The motor was roaring, an obnoxious sound that grated on Steve’s nerves and set his teeth on edge. There was only one person who revved their stupid car that way in town, and he was the last person Steve wanted to see tonight. 

Whatever this was, it wasn’t going to be good. 

Tag List: Taglist: @paopaupaus @zerokrox-blog @surferboyzaza @whatever-is-a-good-name@minjintea @addelyin @5ammi90 @hagbaby420 @shinekocreator @bornonthesavage @starxlark @electrick-marionnett @resident-gay-bitch @ash-a-confused-enby @classicdinosaurdeathpose @valon-whomsttf @rotten-lil-goblin @thereindeerlady @love-ya-kash @kerlypride @sparkle-fiend @thefreakandthehair @flowercrowngods @milf-harrington @sadcanadianwinter @gothbat99 @hotcocoaharrington @henderdads @lightwoodbanethings @colorful565 @h0n3y-dw @craterbbox @sourw0lfs @lesliiieeeee @bidisastersworld @tinynebula @ravnlinn @bonescaro @mexmatch @cottagecoredreams @joruni @hellykelly @maegan1116 @farewell-wanderlvst @desertfern @due-to-the-fact-that-im-a-slut @anythingforourmoonyedits @eerielake @fandemonium-takes-its-toll @sidekick-hero

[autistichalsin]

I think the bleakest thing I ever read was the article by a man who was called to discuss surviving a "SHTF" (shit hits the fan) event by billionaires who wanted to discuss how they would stay safe. The billionaires were informed that in an apocalypse, the people they hired now to be their security would not be interested in protecting them, but instead their families. The expert suggested they show kindness to these workers now, so that they will be inclined to want to help out in those cases; offer for their families to join them in their luxury bunkers if it comes to it.

The billionaires declined, and chose to start suggesting equipping the hired guards with shock collars to guarantee compliance, or perhaps, if they had enough time before something happened, to build robots to do the job instead.

Literally the basic suggestion of "just treat these workers, not even everyone you hire, but these particular ones who you want to safeguard you and your family in the event of an utter irreversible collapse of civilization, with basic human kindness and dignity," and still the billionaire class couldn't discard their sadism enough to even consider making the shock collars a last resort.

And, yeah, bunkers. Normal ones made for proles cost about as much as a house, so, totally doable (/s). Then there's the luxury units. Fitted with swimming pools and movie theaters and house-made pet food and aquaponics ponds, usually settled in decommissioned missile silos for the hardening against nuclear strikes. These start at a million and only get more expensive. Vladimir Putin has a complex filled with not only pools and wine cellars and movie theaters, but also, most bafflingly, a casino. Why would you want or need to gamble in an apocalyptic scenario that has rendered money meaningless? Simple: the rich can't conceive of a world where money is meaningless to begin with. Their entire lives revolve around it, they will subjugate as many people as necessary to get more to it. They willingly doomed the fucking planet for it. Of course they are fundamentally incapable of imagining a scenario where it was all for nothing.

Not even Dr. Strangelove, with its "Mein fuhrer, I can walk!" yells as the men get ready to evacuate underground, could have predicted something this bleak. This goes beyond apathy and beyond malice to some sort of Franken-evil we are just not able to wrap our heads around. Destroy the world in pursuit of money, then use that money to escape the consequences of destroying the world- while hoarding the money that will no longer be of any use to you.

That's who billionaires fucking are. They would rather build a luxury bunker full of things that will no longer be of any use to them and design shock collars for their planned security forces than even imagine treating just the security guards as human beings- let alone actually trying to stop shitting where they eat with their pollution bullshit.

[jadeite-art]

PotO: Erik's house floor plan (book based)

While there already exists a pretty cool floor plan of Erik's house (this one) it's constructed around the idea that there is a shore or rock formation on which the house is built and that it looks like an actual house. That didn't sit with me as the book clearly says that the house is built inside the double casing of the foundation, so I made my own model. And yes, I totally built it in the Sims.

Things we know from Leroux that helped me build the model:

The placement of the house in between the inner and outer wall of the foundation suggests that it would be roughly rectangle-shaped

There must be some kind of small platform on which you could step out from the boat. A hidden mechanism must then move a part of the wall to reveal the actual door to the house, similar to the entrance from the third cellar

The entrance from the Lake opens directly to the drawing room. I'm no expert on Victorian architecture but it appears to me that a drawing room is basically a living and based on some photos of Victorian houses I saw I concluded that there'd be a fireplace and possibly some shelves for books, even if they are not directly mentioned in the novel. Erik would also surely have a rug. Persian of course ;-)

A door in the drawing room leads directly into the Louis-Philippe room. Connected directly to it there is also an en-suite bathroom. There is also an additional door that supposedly leads to the Torture Chamber. There is a fireplace (Erik/Christine mention the scorpion and grasshopper boxes on the mantelpiece), a bed set, some kind of sofa, and a chest of drawers.

Considering how the Torture Chamber is shaped and what it does, as well as the fact that Daroga is unable to find the hidden latch on the wall that the Chamber shares with Louis-Philippe (the wall on which the peeping window must be located) I concluded that the door mentioned by Christine must actually lead to a sort of oddly shaped room/corridor that goes around the chamber where the heating system and mechanical elements are located (this unfortunately couldn't be properly rendered due to the limitations of the game). From there you can access the actual Chamber by pushing a plain frameless door. Since it opens inwards and has no handles, in order to open it from the Chamber, you'd have to resort to some kind of spring system as described in the book.

We know that the dining is accessed from the drawing room. Considering it's the dining, it must also be connected to a kitchen and pantry from which, I'd assume, one could access the cellars with wine, water, and whatever else Erik might keep in there

After dinner, Erik takes Christine's hand and shows her his room. There is no mention of them first going back to the drawing room. That led me to believe that the door to Erik's room is located in the dining room. The drawing room has enough doors as is anyway.

Leroux mentions a pipe organ that takes up an entire wall. I know organs are large but I think it would be the narrower one. Then we have the coffin in the middle (unfortunately the Sims didn't have anything I could use as the canopy), a desk the exact location of which is unknown but I'd place it near the organ, possibly some wardrobe or chest of drawers, and probably a door to another en-suite bathroom as I imagine he wouldn't be using the one attached to the Louis-Philippe.

If you like the model feel free to use it / reference it in your fanart or fanfic :-)

[sweetjulieapples]

Dear Commander - Chapter 35:  Intrigue Begets Begetting

Cullen x Trevelyan

AO3 MASTERLIST

Cullen and the Inquisitor finally reconnect at Josephine's interlude.

Full chapter below:

The warm air of the main hall dissolved into a chill, the lively sounds of chatter fading into an echo of low murmurs as he stepped into the rotunda. With heavy boots against the stone floor, the messenger nodded in the direction of Solas and the Inquisitor before making his way up the stairs.

Behind every thud of his footsteps he could hear fragments of conversation. Not that he was trying to listen, but when the Inquisitor—the Herald of Andraste—was discussing the magical phenomenon of her rift-sealing hand, it’s hard to ignore!

"Interesting," Solas, the man rumoured to be a Fade expert, marveled. "You seem to be drawing upon the raw substance of the Fade, likely using your mark as a catalyst. Only now, without the presence of a rift."

The Inquisitor's voice was softer, harder to hear as he reached the second floor. That Tevinter mage leaned over the railing, seemingly enjoying the conversation below, dramatic chuckles and scoffs escaping him. The messenger moved fast with his head down. The last thing he needed was to be roped into another foiled attempt at breaking into the wine cellar against the Lady Ambassador's wishes.

Once he reached the rookery where Sister Leliana was situated, the conversation had all but drifted away from his awareness. Now his focus was set on the spymaster, her cold demeanor chilling as he braced himself to deliver the news. With a quiet gulp, he spoke.

"Commander Cullen will not be attending tonight's interlude."

"What!" she shrieked, standing from the table where she sat with various scrolls, a chalice of wine and an oddly large collection of knives. "Tell him he must!"

The messenger blinked, unsure how to deliver the rest of Cullen's message.

Leliana began to walk to the edge of the railing. "I cannot be distracted at the moment and I don't want Josephine's feelings hurt!"

With a slight shake to his voice, he added, "He doesn't have time for a tea party."

"Stubborn Mule!" Leliana folded her arms, her eyes piercing as she glared at the messenger. "Fine! I will arrange —"

Solas' shouting echoed throughout the entirety of the rotunda. "Please speak up! I cannot hear you over your outfit!"

Dorian's laughter roared and the Inquisitor could be heard trying to intervene. The messenger stood waiting, nervous, as Leliana peered over the railing at the commotion below.

"Oh shush Inquisitor, be a good little thing and practice your chess skills like I asked, yes?"

"Why do you keep asking me to do that?"

Leliana slowly turned her eyes back to the messenger, a dangerous smirk sweeping over her face. She stepped forward and the messenger exerted all willpower not to step backwards.

"You can tell Commander Cullen that Lord Beaufoy is attending the interlude in person. He's very eager to discuss the Inquisitor's invitation to his estate, but not to worry." Sister Leliana's voice was eerily calm and cheerful. A smile lit up her face, contradicting the shadows of her hood. "I will advise her from a military perspective in his absence."

The messenger nodded. "Yes, Sister Leliana. I'll inform him right away."

"Good. Thank you," she replied, taking her seat at her desk as though the conversation had never happened.

Roaring laughter and shouts could be heard from the tavern, a soft hint of Maryden's melodies hidden among the ruckus. There was…smashing glass?

Tell me my soldiers aren't in there.

Cullen stood with his arms folded, leaning against a flagpole, eyes narrowing as he listened. A contrast of sound drifted from the hall above, obnoxious laughter while guests entered the doors. He clenched his jaw at the thought. There better not be nobility at this thing. The interlude made no sense to him.

Finally.

He pushed himself off the pole, his posture relaxing slightly when he caught sight of Briony making her way across the yard.

“You’re wearing your Knight-Captain’s regalia,” he said as she stepped into the torchlight.

“I… don’t own a ballgown. This is a formal affair, isn’t it?” She glanced down at her armour, then up at his. “Maker’s breath. Have I overdressed? What even is an interlude?”

“A trap,” Cullen muttered, shaking his head with frustration.

"But there's food, right?"

“Never mind that. You’re dressed appropriately. Let’s get this nonsense over with.”

Crammed into the corner of the hall sat two Orlesians, all mocking smiles and snide remarks. There was no shortage of things to critique at this so-called interlude—fashion, food, and an endless buffet of social and political connections. But their attention, of course, had settled on Inquisitor Trevelyan.

“Blends right in, does she?” the man whispered, voice just low enough for his companion to hear.

“Darling, she couldn’t stand out even with that vulgar light from her hand.”

They exchanged smug glances, their laughter low and ridiculing, as it so often was.

“This season’s colour palette. How predictably dull,” the woman remarked, taking a slow sip of wine.

“And the gold embroidery? I’m terribly tired of it. The Antivan again, I’d wager.”

She laughed. “Perhaps she needs a fashion advisor.”

He scoffed. “You’re not offering, are you?”

“Of course not. I haven’t the time for charity.”

Their eyes drifted back to Juliette, watching closely as she smiled and conversed with guests.

“That gown is far too overstated,” the man said with theatrical horror.

“Agreed,” the woman replied, unimpressed. “I can’t wait to hear about the atrocity she wears to Halamshiral.”

“You’re not going? Weren’t you—?”

“Oh, please. You know I host a Wintersend ball at my Lydes estate. With the preparations, there's no time to waste.”

“You’ll serve the good wine this time, yes?”

When Cullen stepped into the hall, he paused. People moved about in a blur. Extravagant outfits, masked faces and an overwhelming blend of chatter, laughter, and light music. He assessed the crowd swiftly, eyes narrowing as he took a deep breath. With a slow blink and clenched fists, he turned to Briony.

"Oh," she said upon observing the other guests. "We're underdressed. Good to know."

“This was supposed to be a meeting of colleagues over tea and scones, not… all this,” he muttered, gesturing vaguely. “We just need to find the Inquisitor, introduce you, and then we can…”

As Cullen's eyes swept over the gathering by the dining table, he almost looked straight past her. Laughing with a glass raised, she was perfectly poised. Her hair, normally worn down and tangled, was neatly piled into an updo. Luxurious fabric hung elegantly on her frame, effortless, as though part of her. As though she were someone else entirely.

Then she saw him standing by the door.

The smile she gave him — bright, radiant, so familiar and unmistakably her — stopped him in place. In that moment, she was no longer a stranger. She was his Juliette.

All the chatter, all the noise, seemed to fade as their eyes met. The tension he carried, the begrudging reluctance — it all melted away as he stood, utterly captivated by her smile.

Everything else fell away.

She looked down, her smile widening, then glanced back up at him. That was when he felt himself smile too, his exasperated expression softening by the second.

Then she stood.

Murmurs rose as she moved, heads turning while she swayed through the crowd, glass in hand, a train of embroidered silk trailing behind her.

Cullen blinked, trying to shake off the lingering smile and return to his dutiful composure. He stepped aside, clearing the doorway and gesturing for Briony to join him.

“You don’t have to pretend to enjoy yourself,” he smirked, noting her look of discontent.

“Thank the Maker,” she gasped. “I can throw a tourney, but I’m afraid that’s as far as my theatrics allow.”

Cullen chuckled. Briony raised an eyebrow at his sudden change in mood.

“We won’t be here long,” he assured her.

Cullen glanced up as Juliette approached, his heart fluttering in his chest at the sight of her. The soft pink of her cheeks, the mulberry colour of her lips, her necklace reflecting the candlelight drawing attention to her skin as the dress sat strategically off the shoulders. He felt warm suddenly, his eyes heavy as he returned his focus to her face.

"Commander."

Her voice was low, almost teasing as she addressed him. The sultry confidence in the way she spoke not quite matching the sweetness in her expression, her cheeks deepening in shade.

"Inquisitor," he replied. Gentle, warm, a hint of retaliation with the subtle smirk playing on his lips.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. They held eye contact as whispers gave rise in the distance, Briony all the while standing awkwardly idle to the side. She adjusted her stance, her armour clanking just enough to snap the tension.

Cullen cleared his throat as he pulled his eyes from Juliette's.

"Right," he whispered to himself. Then louder, "Inquisitor, I'd like to introduce you to Knight Captain Briony."

Juliette smiled courteously, slowly glancing away from Cullen, her right hand extending as if by habit. Then her eyes widened with recognition.

“Oh!” she gasped, stepping forward. “You’re Briony! It’s lovely to meet you at last!”

Cullen’s smirk returned at her delight, and he forced himself to look away.

"It's an honour to meet you, Your Worship," Briony said earnestly with a bow.

"The honour is all mine!" Juliette beamed, still holding her hand. "I've read the reports and the letters. Your performance at Arl Teagan's tournament was quite impressive!"

"You flatter me, Your Worship."

"Please, Inquisitor is fine," Juliette smiled. "And the training, Cullen?" she asked, eyes wide and eager.

He turned back to face her, his smirk lingering as he looked at her with quiet admiration.

"Briony is ready to commence in the morning if it suits you?"

"Of course!" Juliette nodded. She glanced at Briony. "Have you eaten tonight? There's plenty of food and wine. Make yourself at home!"

"Thank you," Briony nodded with a smile at Juliette's enthusiasm. “I’ll take you up on that. If you’ll excuse me.”

"Go ahead," Cullen said with a chuckle behind closed lips.

Briony smiled and raised a fist to her chest in salute before slipping into the crowd.

Juliette glanced up at Cullen, her lips pressed together to contain a grin, cheeks warming.

“It feels like an age since I’ve seen you,” she said softly.

“That it does,” he replied, his voice gentler than usual.

“Are you well?”

“I’m fine.”

Juliette tilted her head, narrowing her eyes. “Are you really fine?”

“I am really well,” he said, holding back a laugh.

She bit her lip and smiled, shaking her head slightly. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here tonight. What happened to your little scheme? Does this mean you lost?”

“I did not lose.”

“Well, I see no Leliana here.”

“I chose to attend tonight,” Cullen said, folding his arms across his chest.

“Oh,” Juliette replied, suspicious, sipping her drink. “You lost. Shameful.”

Cullen leaned in slightly, his voice low and teasing. “If you must know, Inquisitor, I’m here to ensure you don’t go making any foolish decisions.”

She blinked slowly, giving him a mockingly sweet look. “And what decision might that be? The chicken or the fish?” A quiet giggle escaped her. “Were you planning to cut my food into tiny little squares too, Commander?”

Cullen gave her a blank look and with an unimpressed sigh, slowly shook his head. All poise abandoned, Juliette burst out laughing, a half-snort escaping before she could stop it. It was too loud. Too unguarded.

The whispers around them grew louder. A woman glided past, the puffy satin of her sleeves brushing Juliette’s bare shoulder, like veil lifted, sudden awareness. She didn’t stop—instead, simply cast a knowing glance towards Cullen, then at Juliette, slow and assessing.

Juliette's laughter faded, her expression hardening. She took a step back, away from Cullen, her hand clutching the glass of wine tighter as a cold shiver ran through her entire body.

And just like that, all warmth disappeared under the weight of watchful eyes.

“I thought this was supposed to be a small gathering of colleagues and friends,” Cullen murmured, his voice lower now, as though even that might be overheard.

Juliette glanced at him, her smile forced. “It seems we were both deceived. This feels an awful lot like a dress rehearsal, don’t you think?”

"Hm." He hummed in reply.

Juliette glanced over her shoulder, catching sight of Josephine on the other side of the room. With gracious smiles, the Ambassador was a perfect vision of warm and elegant hospitality. That is except for the second in which her mask slipped, a shocked blink in the direction of the Inquisitor and her Commander.

“Oops. She’s found you,” Juliette whispered, a taunting smile cracking through her composure. “And where is your tailored suit? Josie will be furious!”

“Let her be furious,” Cullen muttered. “I won’t be staying. She’s seen that I made an appearance. I introduced you to Briony, and…” He hesitated. “Is there no one bothering you tonight?”

“What?” Juliette asked, frowning. She gave him a puzzled look, inviting him to elaborate.

“You’re not being pressured? Or hassled?” he clarified quietly.

“No. Why…why would you think that?”

For a moment, a wave of disappointment washed over Cullen's expression until he forced a smile. "It doesn't matter."

Juliette nodded awkwardly and Cullen began to turn away.

"I should get back to my duties—"

“Wait.” Her voice was still hushed, but louder than it should have been. She glanced down at her hand as it rested on his arm, her fingertips gently resting on the worn metal of the vambrace. She quickly retracted her hand, as though she had touched a hot surface, dangerous and forbidden to feel.

Cullen looked at her curiously, his amber eyes intense and piercing. She swallowed before tilting her head to the side.

"Scoot to the left?"

He stared at her for a second or two, not sure what to make of her odd request. She sighed.

"Just step to the side, Cullen," she hissed underneath her breath. Reluctantly, he obliged and she swooped around him, obscuring herself from the view of onlookers. "You make an excellent shield. Now hold my drink, please," she said, fingers tugging at the neckline of her dress. He gently took her glass and his eyes fell to her movement before he tore them away at once.

"Maker's breath, Juliette!" Cullen gasped at the sight of her fingers slipping beneath her bodice. "What are you doing?"

He slammed his eyes shut, posture tense, heart pounding. A fierce blush burned across his face, neck, and ears as he struggled to think of anything but what lay beneath that dress.

Then, against his hand he felt her touch. His eyes opened and dropped to where she pressed a folded piece of parchment into his glove. When he looked up, her face was flushed, her eyes wide and uncertain, blushing just as furiously as he was.

"I don't know, really."

That was her answer to the question he almost forgot he had asked. He glanced back down as his fingers curled around the paper, brushing her hand while she gently slipped away.

"Even though we're now in the same vicinity, that doesn't mean we should stop our letters," Juliette whispered. Cullen's eyes drifted back to hers, watching her close. "…Does it?" she added with hopeful hesitancy.

Cullen slowly shook his head, his eyes locked to hers with intensity. "No," he replied softly. "No, it doesn't."

She nodded gently and softly took the glass from his hand, their gaze still held, not once wavering. "Good," the word tumbled from her lips sweetly. Quietly, she drew in a breath and stepped past him, her shoulder brushing against the cool metal plate of his armour.

"Enjoy your evening, Commander."

Across the room, behind his glass of wine, the gossiping noble grinned.

"Did you see that?"

His companion let out a low chuckle. "That look he gave the Inquisitor? I certainly did."

"That’s been simmering for some time, I hear," he whispered. "Hadn’t seen it for myself, until now."

"One doesn’t watch a lady walk away with eyes like that unless it’s serious."

"Our struggle may be young," the noble said with a smirk. "Rest assured, intrigue begets begetting."

His friend let out a shrill laugh. "You’re awful!"

"Oh, I know," he said smugly, raising his glass for another sip.

The candle burned low and the air had turned cool. It had been hours since the last guard passed his office — confirmation that he was, once again, working well into the evening. Since the interlude, it seemed all he could manage.

Yet through tired eyes, he read and re-read the same report. Soldiers injured en route to the Western Approach. Supplies urgently requisitioned.

Field reports, letters and various documents littered his desk but his mind was stuck on that one letter. The one still neatly folded in his pocket. Try as he might to focus, her smile consumed his thoughts. Soft, pale skin. Loose strands of hair teasing at her neckline. Taunting. Tempting.

He slammed his hand down onto the desk with a crack. A sharp inhale. Tightness in his jaw as he wrestled with the thought.

Just read it and get it over with.

He sighed, allowing himself this one indulgence, and slowly reached for her letter. As he carefully unfolded the parchment, a light trace of perfume lingered in the air, delicate and familiar. Cullen closed his eyes. Maker help me, it smells like her.

Cullen, It strikes me as odd that you're so bothered by my distaste for the ale. It's not that I believe there are no decent beverages in Ferelden—I've spent my share of time here, I’ll have you remem There's no point in replying to the entirety of your previous letter. Let's be honest, we're beyond that. You asked which time I lied: When I said that I can't lose you or that you are replaceable. Had you been paying attention, you would have your answer. So I ask a counter question. Have you been paying attention, Commander? Juliette

Cullen stood so suddenly his chair scraped the stone floor, candlelight flickering from the movement. He stared down at the letter on the desk. The scent of her still taunted him, almost as much as her words. His posture tensed and he stepped back.

He paced. Then stopped. Then sat again.

On his desk lay a confession disguised as a riddle. An invitation he didn’t believe he deserved.

And still, he considered it.

He looked to the door and, for just a second, imagined what might happen if he went to her now. If he could move unseen by the guards. If she were to answer her door at this hour. If he could find the words, all he wanted to say.

With a shaky breath, he reached for his quill and began to write.

Juliette, I have been paying attention. That is the problem. I wish that I was better at putting into writing how I feel. I wish that I was able to make sense of it. You haven't gone unnoticed, if that is what you are wondering. It's quite the opposite. When I'm with you, I find myself forgetting why I'm here in the first place. I forget myself, my past, the things I've done. I can't let myself forget. I can't lose my way again. Yet when you are near, I can't take my eyes off you. When you are not near, my thoughts belong only to you. There have been moments where I've let myself wonder what it might be like if things were different. If you weren't the Inquisitor, if we weren't at war. If I were a better man. I think of you often. More than I mean to. More than I should.

Ink splattered across the desk as he dropped the quill and ran a hand down his face with a groan. He clenched his teeth and snatched the letter, slamming it into the top drawer of desk.

He picked up the report once again and tried to fool himself into thinking he could read it this time.

The crisp morning air felt like a lifeline after a sleepless night. Forcing alertness, Cullen moved beside Rylen as they descended the stone steps.

"The Inquisitor will depart Halamshiral Wintersend morning, Maker willing."

"Hangover be damned," Rylen remarked, dead serious.

Cullen stared ahead, eyes focusing in the distance.

"With the bandits cleared along the Imperial Highway and our forces in patrol, you should arrive sooner than…" Cullen halted, brows furrowing as he squinted. "Who is that woman wandering the stables?"

Rylen glanced at Cullen with with intrigue, then sharply turned his focus to where Cullen's gaze was fixed.

"I thought you were starry-eyed for the Inquisitor?"

Cullen cast a sideways glance but said nothing, already moving forward. Rylen stood behind, watching with folded arms.

Master Dennet greeted Cullen with a nod as he moved through the stables in pursuit of the woman who had caught his eye. He stopped in his tracks, watching as she looked up at the building—one hand shielding her eyes from the sun, the other lifting the hem of her dress just enough to keep it from the dirt.

There was something hauntingly familiar about her, though he couldn't place it. He was baffled. On one hand she looked as though she belonged, then at the same time so out of place it was jarring. He pressed forward, determined for an answer.

"Excuse me miss," Cullen called out. "Are you lost?"

The woman turned, her shocked expression softening into a smile.

"Well, not anymore."

[eveline11a]

After watching Good Omens season 2, I wanted to talk about this :

A lot of people did recently said that Season 2 Episode 2 was a great episode, but didn't understand the food scene, or found any reason this is here. Well, as far as I am concerned, this is actually the best scene of this episode, even better than the end, and I wanted to talk more about it.

Here is the summarized main topic of this flashback : GOD IS "TESTING" JOB WHILE CROWLEY IS "TESTING" AZIRAPHALE ON DIFFERENT LEVELS

This episode has a big flashback about Aziraphale and Crowley that can't be ignored at all, thanks to all of the elements that we learn about how the Heaven/Hell/World work in this story and about our ineffable duo. We can list those like this :

Demons always do the bad jobs. Nothing new, but what it is new is the "permit" that Crowley has from God to destroy Job possessions and family. An angel can't react against this kind of permit. Usually, angels just watch demons do their thing and rather think about the happy ending than the process, according to Gabriel's justification :

If angels let demons do and just stare, Aziraphale couldn't let Crowley do that, even after knowing about the bet. At first, he was not aware about the permit nor the bet, and although he's informed after asking, he just comes back to Earth to avoid the killing of the children by trying to convince Crowley to stop, just after the killing of the goats. It doesn't go too well at first :

In front of this apparently crualty, Aziraphale gives up and is about to leave, BUT notices that the crows around there do not go CAW CAW CAW. He turns toward Crowley and gets from him the REAL staring and honesty he was asking before at this very moment, without any words spoken.

It's important to notice that Crowley turned (twice) toward Aziraphale, so the angel can have his real answer behind the devilish acting he's got to play. Crowley lets the birds go baaaaa on purpose to see what reaction he would get from the other side, or at least, he waits to see the reaction of the angel instead of just leaving. Aziraphale understands that Crowley didn't kill the goats, and assume quickly that the children will be safe.

Crowley is not naive and knows that Aziraphale misunderstands the true meaning of his decision. But he's also enough smart to understand that Aziraphale has a weird behaviour for an angel : no angel would come to Earth reflecting on a decision from God by trying to convince a demon to stop it. It requires at least to have enough consideration toward humans and kids to act like that, which even Gabriel does not have in this story... Aziraphale does have it, and we all know who has it too but doesn't want to show it too much then constantly fails anyway...

He's so bad at being bad that when he sets the children's house on fire, Aziraphale sticks to his positions and remains sure of the idea that the children won't die by Crowley's hand. Icing on the cake : Aziraphale doesn't give up nor go away again : he even goes real close to Crowley this time, sure there is no danger at all for anyone's life, sure that Crowley can't lie anymore or hide under his role if he does that.

Right after in the cellar, Crowley just sees that for once, he's not alone during his duty, and tries to get comfy with what he has in front of him : a wine jar and an angel who has trusted him. Crowley invites Aziraphale to try drinks then food. At first, the angel thinks about temptation from a demon, but the real thing was only about curiosity. Common angels don't have enough curiosity to understand humanity : they often base their knowledge on only ONE experience (like the "birth" of Eve for Gabriel, who considers he's now an expert about human reproduction) or things they've been told since the beginning. From Aziraphale : "demons are bad, angels are good" without nuance. And THIS IS WHY he's not able to understand Crowley completly while they talk about "sides" at the first time.

Aziraphale sees the world as two sides only, but he has this empathic side that can bring him to understand humans, but also and over all Crowley. The thing is Aziraphale never really had the chance to get more interested in something that's not about his own duties, because angels usually are not curious. This is why he mixes up curiosity and temptation. He can't make the difference if he doesn't try anything.

Now, we have Crowley, who doesn't like being a demon at all, who loves questions and curiosity, who CRAVES for answers he might never have... He's on Earth for a long time and do not take his devilish work seriously, because he doesn't understand the point of choosing between demons or angels. He wants to be HIMSELF only. He wants to do what HE thinks is good, and for so long, he never had the chance to think objectively "I'm the one who's right, because I'm just myself and it's okay" without having Heaven or Hell arguing with his way of living. When Aziraphale just came in his life, it’s as if the world has finally laid out a little something, another curiosity, and this curiosity was curious about him as well, even if this curiosity is irritating. But until then, Aziraphale meets several criterias that angels don't have and that Crowley loves.

And what did God do when Job met the criterias to make God wins the bet ? God granted him with presents.

...so why couldn't Aziraphale has his own presents from Crowley, just for existing in his way ? Yep ! Eating is not at all an invitation to sin in this scene to me. Crowley's present to Aziraphale is waaaaaaay different that the presents given to Job of course, but it's undoubtedly more important on his scale. It's not about just a piece of meat : Crowley offers Aziraphale the chance and opportunity to find out, experience and enjoy what Earth can offer to him, even when there is a huge storm outside, even when it seems like the end of time ! He gives him the chance to understand why living on Earth can be beautiful and how human creativity can bring a lot of pleasure and good feelings. Food is the big part of it and the first of course, but after that, we can see that Aziraphale learned to dance (another thing that angels don't do), has a huge passion for books and a full collection of them, likes talking about everything, likes living on Earth near humans more than living in Heaven, etc. At last, it's not important that Aziraphale didn't understand the whole Crowley's elaborate morality/way of living. What's important here is that he's interested to understand, not like other people. Job kept his fey, and Aziraphale kept his trust and open-mindedness to the world. This is also a big present for Crowley, to not feel so alone like before, and also being seen as more than a demon.

Please, just mind this is my interpretation of this scene, and that I really thinks it gives a lot more than what people use to see in it.

[saintmeghanmarkle]

Fairwinds Estate a California winery that creates bespoke wines is where Megsy bought her wine. (Daily Mail) by u/Human-Economics6894

Fairwinds Estate, a California winery that creates bespoke wines, is where Megsy bought her wine. (Daily Mail) That according to the Daily Mailhttps://https://ift.tt/Gsap9xP specifically picked Fairwinds - 75 miles north of San Francisco and a six-hour drive from her home in Montecito - to show her support after the winery was almost totally destroyed in a devastating 2020 wildfire which caused $15 million worth of damage.A source said: 'She wanted to lean in and help a California business rebuild.'Meghan - a wine lover who named her original blog 'The Tig' after her favourite Italian Tignanello wine - spent months tasting dozens of different blends created in Fairwinds' 25,000 sq. ft. cellar, before settling on the final mix.The bespoke wine is understood to contain a blend of Cabernet Sauvignon, Cabernet Franc and Petit Verdot grapes.A source said: 'Every time she had friends over she would test the different blends out on them and then give notes back to the expert winemaker that it needed more of this, or less of that. This is a custom-made wine.'Meghan was instrumental in every aspect of the creation of her rosé right down to designing the label with her trademark calligraphy handwriting.https://ift.tt/CermAak don't think the wine is badly made per se, because this is a winery with a long tradition. What I do think is that Megsy was a total nightmare as a customer, because she probably made them change grapes over and over again. post link: https://ift.tt/hJ9GW4Q author: Human-Economics6894 submitted: June 29, 2025 at 12:14AM via SaintMeghanMarkle on Reddit disclaimer: all views + opinions expressed by the author of this post, as well as any comments and reblogs, are solely the author's own; they do not necessarily reflect the views of the administrator of this Tumblr blog. For entertainment only.

[taphousemulberryestate]

Sip, Swirl, and Savour: Discover the Best Wine Tasting Tours in Caversham

Nestled in the heart of Western Australia's renowned Swan Valley lies Caversham, a destination that blends rustic charm with sophisticated sips. Whether you're a seasoned connoisseur or a casual wine lover, wine tasting tours in Caversham promise an unforgettable experience full of local flavours, scenic beauty, and warm hospitality.

From boutique cellar doors to family-owned vineyards, Caversham is the perfect escape for those looking to unwind and explore. In this guide, we’ll walk you through why wine tasting in this region is so special, what to expect, and how to make the most of your tour.

Why Caversham Is a Wine Lover’s Paradise

Swan Valley is one of Australia’s oldest wine regions, and Caversham stands out as a picturesque gem within it. With its fertile soils, Mediterranean climate, and a passionate community of winemakers, the area has been producing award-winning wines for decades.

What makes wine tasting tours in Caversham unique is the perfect fusion of tradition and innovation. Here, you’ll find classic varietals like Shiraz and Verdelho alongside newer, experimental blends that reflect the evolving taste of the region.

What to Expect on a Wine Tasting Tour in Caversham

Whether you're booking a full-day guided experience or embarking on a self-drive itinerary, wine tasting tours in Caversham offer a wide range of indulgences. Here’s what you can typically expect:

A curated selection of wineries: Most tours visit three to five carefully chosen wineries, offering a mix of big names and hidden gems.

Knowledgeable guides: Learn about the winemaking process, grape varieties, and food pairings from passionate experts.

Gourmet food: Enjoy wine-paired lunches or cheese platters that enhance the tasting experience.

Scenic views: Relax among the vines, gaze over rolling hills, and snap some Instagram-worthy moments.

Local experiences: Many tours include visits to chocolate factories, distilleries, or craft breweries.

Ideal Time to Book a Wine Tasting Tour

Caversham’s climate makes it a year-round destination, but the best times for wine tasting tours in Caversham are during spring (September to November) and autumn (March to May). The weather is mild, the vineyards are vibrant, and the cellar doors are bustling with new releases.

Weekdays are generally quieter, providing a more intimate experience with winemakers and staff. If you're visiting during a weekend or public holiday, it’s best to book your tour in advance to secure your spot.

Tips for First-Time Visitors

If this is your first time heading out on a wine tasting adventure, here are a few tips to make the most of it:

Start with lighter wines and move to heavier reds and fortifieds.

Pace yourself – it's a tasting, not a full glass each time!

Stay hydrated, and eat well during the day.

Take notes of your favourite wines so you can purchase or recommend them later.

Be open-minded – try varietals or producers you've never heard of.

Pairing Wine Tours with Local Attractions

Caversham is more than just wine! Many wine tasting tours in Caversham include or are easily paired with other activities:

Caversham Wildlife Park: Interact with kangaroos, koalas, and native birds in one of Australia’s most beloved wildlife parks.

Swan Valley Food Trail: Explore handmade chocolates, nougat, ice cream, and honey from nearby artisanal producers.

Cruise the Swan River: Combine a wine tour with a scenic boat ride for a truly relaxing day out.

Group Tours vs. Private Wine Tours

When booking wine tasting tours in Caversham, you can choose between group tours or private experiences:

Group Tours:

Cost-effective and social

Ideal for solo travellers or small groups

Set itineraries with shared transportation

Private Tours:

Customisable and intimate

Great for special occasions like anniversaries or birthdays

Often includes luxury transport and premium tastings

Both options offer excellent value depending on your preferences.

Booking Your Wine Tasting Tour in Caversham

Booking a tour is easy with many local operators offering convenient online options. Look for providers with good reviews, licensed guides, and inclusive packages. Whether you want a half-day escape or a full-day wine and food journey, there’s something for everyone.

Some tours even offer hotel pick-up and drop-off, so you can sip and swirl without worrying about driving.

Why You’ll Keep Coming Back

There’s a certain magic to wine tasting tours in Caversham that keeps visitors returning year after year. It’s not just the wine — though that’s certainly a major draw. It’s the welcoming spirit, the breathtaking landscapes, and the sense of connection to the land and its people.

Each visit offers something new: a new vintage, a new friendship, or a new appreciation for the craft behind every bottle.

Final Thoughts

If you’re searching for a memorable getaway or simply want to treat your palate to something special, wine tasting tours in Caversham are the perfect escape. Whether you're a local Perth resident or visiting from afar, the experience is sure to leave you relaxed, inspired, and maybe even a little tipsy — in the best way possible.

So grab your glass, book your spot, and let the flavours of Caversham guide your next adventure. Cheers!

[anamoon63]

Thank you to @nocturnalazure, @kimmiessimmies and @marcishaun for the question! 😘❤️I decided to answer in one post and with only one sim because I'm having a bit of a busy weekend, I had a small window of time to sit down and do this and I really didn't want to leave anyone behind, so I hope that's not a problem. 😉

TONY LANGERAK

I'm sure nobody expected this, but Tony Langerak was my first ever favorite sim, 'favorite' being understood as a sim you can't stop playing with and that also has its own story. So for this time and in answer to my dear three mutuals who asked me this question, I am going to list 5 facts about my beloved Tony. 💙

THE FACTS:

Fact # 1

Tony Langerak is not technically an OC of mine because he was born in game, but his looks and personality are totally my creation. As his last name says, he is descended from the Langeraks of Sunset Valley; he's Dustin's great grandson and Parker's grandson. He was born in Hidden Springs, then he migrated to Starlight Shores, then back to Hidden Springs, and finally settled in Island Paradise. He has a twin brother, Mike; they are not really identical but if you dress and style them alike, they will look very similar! (BTW, Mike is married to the famous singer Miranda Cho, sister of another famous singer Michelle Cho, both Dale' Cho's aunts. This is where the Langerak and Cho families meet!). Tony is and adult (around the middle 40s), and belongs to generation four of The Kamels of Hidden Springs (One gen before the Cho Brothers). In addition to having a twin, Tony has two older sisters who are also twins, Kamillah and Lillian. And a brother older than all of them, Kurt.

Fact #2

Tony didn't go to college; his dream was to be a writer (Illustrious Author). To pursue it, he moved to Starlight Shores with his twin brother and the two of them worked hard to get to the top. It was there that Tony met his first wife, outstanding acrobat Cassandra Steele. His stay at Starlight Shores didn't last long though, as he became an explorer and traveled all around the world to get relics to sell, making money very quickly. His aspiration then changed drastically, now his desire was to have a Private Museum, which he eventually achieved. Also, after getting practically all the treasures he could in his adventures around the world, Tony managed to achieve his primary aspiration which was to become a famous writer. He began writing about his travels, and then he continued with novels of all genres, including an autobiography.

Fact #3

In terms of skills, Tony is quite talented and multifaceted, not only mastering writing but also painting, sculpting, and in his spare time, he plays the drums. He's a seasoned traveler and explorer, he's a professional diver, he's an expert in martial arts, and he practices meditation. Additionally, and thanks to Jeannine, he knows all the secrets of nectar making, has his own vineyard and wine cellar, and, of course, he has his own winery in his vacation home in France.

Fact #4

Today, Tony leads a fairly peaceful life, but it wasn't always easy, it may have been full of successes, but it was also full of failures, mainly his love life, which was quite chaotic. He married very young to Cassandra Steele, but during their marriage, on one of his trips to Champs Les Sims, he met Jeannine Lambert with whom he had an affair that later turned into a steady romance. For a while, Tony led a double life, being unfaithful to Cassandra (perhaps due to his commitment issues). When he finally confessed to Cassandra about his affair with Jeannine, she asked him for a divorce. Tony begged her for a long time to forgive him, but Cassandra wouldn't budge, and they ended up separating. The post-divorce period was a very dark time for Tony, during which he drank himself into an alcoholic. It was difficult for him to get out of it, but he finally did and, once sober, he made the heartbreaking decision to forget Cassandra forever and propose marriage to Jeannine.

Fact #5

Jeannine was not Tony's only romance. After his divorce from Cassandra, Tony had several other affairs, including a marriage with Mia Azul, the red-haired mermaid from Island Paradise; a more or less long relationship with Aislara Alvarez with whom he had a son; and even a steamy affair with Adaeze Min in Shang Simla. But all that is already behind him (apparently), he is now happily married to Jeannine and lives with her and their four children in Island Paradise. Jeannine has been trying to convince him to move permanently to their house in Champs Les Sims, but Tony is not sure, as he is very attached to the island. Recently Cassandra called him and asked him to meet to discuss an undisclosed matter, will she come back to disrupt Tony's life again, or will she let him finally enjoy his peaceful marriage with Jeannine? We will see!

-----

Additional note: Tony and Cassandra's story has been on hiatus for like two years or more now, but it's still going on in my imagination, lol. I hope to resume it soon.

Additional note 2: I know the answer to this ask was supposed to be only 5 facts, but you know, I'm a compulsive storyteller, plus when I start talking about my sims there's no stopping me, so they weren't really 5, but more like five groups of many. 😋

I have much, much more to say about Tony, but this will be all for today. Thank you all for reading this far! 😊💗

[rabbitcruiser]

Open That Bottle Night

After years of patiently waiting, it's time to indulge in the luxurious nectar that's been aging gracefully.

Since the turn of the millennium, one night in the dull, dark month of February has been immeasurably brightened for wine-lovers by the creation of a special day to celebrate cherished bottles of wine, champagne or spirits. Open That Bottle Night is dedicated to making sure that those bottles of fine wine that have been put away for a ‘special occasion’, are finally opened up, used, and enjoyed.

This day can now serve as that special occasion everyone has been waiting for. It’s Open That Bottle Night!

History of Open That Bottle Night

Reveling in the idea that great wine is just meant to be shared, Open That Bottle Night is all about creating memories and telling stories of those special shared moments. This is the perfect time to remove that cork and get down to the business of enjoying life.

Created in the year 2000 by two Wall Street Journal columnists Dorothy J. Gaiter and John Brecher, ‘Open That Bottle Night’ (OTBN) is an annual occasion that aims to motivate people to reconnect with each other over a special bottle, and create good memories with friends and family–without any other special reason needed to celebrate.

Held on the last Saturday in February of each year, this day encourages the sharing of memories, both fond and difficult, that can best be remembered when shared over a bottle of wine. The idea is to not only open up a bottle but also to open up the heart.

How to Celebrate Open That Bottle Night

What a great day to enjoy and celebrate special events–or absolutely nothing! Get ready to dig deep into the enjoyment of life on Open That Bottle Night with these ideas:

Dig a Bottle Out of the Cellar

Those who have been saving a delicious bottle for a special occasion will be relieved to know that this can be the day that they have been waiting for! Celebrate just being alive. Get out that corkscrew, grab some glasses and dust off that bottle because it’s time to open it up!

If the bottle has some special significance, don’t forget to tell the stories about it. Was it purchased in a special place? With a special person? For an important event? Was it gifted by someone significant? Letting the bottle tell its story as it is enjoyed makes the moment that much more powerful.

Enjoy a Newer Vintage Bottle

Don’t have any special bottles saved? That’s okay! This day doesn’t discriminate in its desire for everyone to enjoy it! If there’s no special vintage in the cellar, don’t be afraid to go out to the wine shop and ask them to help with some recommendations for something to break open on this special day of celebrating life itself.

Read the Book Love By The Glass

Ready to channel the vibes of the day? Well, one great way to do so would be to read the book written by the authors of the occasion. Love By The Glass is a memoir and love story written by Dorothy Gaiter and John Brecher who just happened to also be the creators of Open That Bottle Night.

The book offers a special insight into the journalism careers of the authors, the challenges they faced to get there, how Martha Stewart played a role in their work, how they became well-known in the world of wine and how wine ultimately changed both of their lives. It’s delightful to peek into the world of these great appreciators of wine, especially including Dorothy’s experience as a woman of color.

Get Creative with Wine Choices

This is the perfect time to try out something that has been on your mind but you’ve never dared. Those who are hoping to become wine experts (or who just want to enjoy this evening!) might want to get started with some of these ideas:

Bordeaux. The world’s most famous wine region produces this red wine that is usually a French blend, typically with an anchor of Merlot or Cabernet. These can run a bit on the pricey end, but that’s what makes them special enough for Open That Bottle Night!

Chianti. Head south from France and move into the direction of Italy. This dry red wine has a tendency to taste better with food, so be sure to serve some appetizers or a full meal with it.

Rioja. Sticking to Europe but moving over to Spain, this wine has a similar flavor to a Cabernet Sauvignon, with a bit of a fruitier flavor to bring a sense of brightness.

California Mourvèdre. Certainly the American winemakers shouldn’t be overlooked. This one is a dry, dark red wine with a full body that offers flavors of flowers as well as herby spices such as black pepper and thyme aromas.

Host an Open That Bottle Night Dinner

Make this night even more special by inviting some close friends around for an intimate dinner party. The guest list should certainly include like-minded friends of family members who enjoy a good bottle of wine and also appreciate the story behind it.

Whether cooking a complex meal or simply putting out a charcuterie board filled with meats, cheese and crackers, it doesn’t really matter what the food is except that it’s worth trying to serve something that pairs well with the wine on offer.

Create an Open The Bottle Night Playlist

An important factor when having friends over to open a bottle of wine is to have good music playing in the background! Get creative by making up a playlist of fun songs inspired by wine. Try out some of these for starters, and then add some of your own favorites:

Dust on the Bottle (1994) by David Lee Murphy. A perfect song for Open The Bottle Night–this one tells the story of how a bottle of wine that has been saved for awhile might have a bit of dust on it, but what’s inside is much sweeter for waiting.

Good Friend and a Glass of Wine (2007) by LeAnn Rimes. This country song has lyrics that encourage the idea of friendship that is shared over a glass of wine.

I Will Drink the Wine (1971) by Frank Sinatra. Enjoy this song about drinking the wine from old Blue Eyes himself.

Red Red Wine (1983) by UB40. Of course, this hit from the 1980s will speak to any Gen-X-ers out there who are enjoying Open the Bottle Night.

Enjoy Open That Bottle Night with These Wine Tips

Tips to help you make the most of your designated bottle include:

Serve the wine – both red and white – at cellar temperature, around 55 degrees.

Have a spare bottle – keeping a backup bottle is a good idea in case the chosen wine has been stored for a little bit too long.

Use a cork bottle-opener with two prongs, and don’t forget to practice first!

Source

[daemonya]

Pan's Paradise

Pan's Paradise Resort is an enchanting retreat where natural beauty meets mythical charm. Nestled among rolling vineyards, this unique getaway offers guests a blend of relaxation and playful adventure. Visitors can indulge in wine tastings, explore lush gardens, and enjoy live music under starlit skies. The resort celebrates creativity and self-expression, inviting guests to reconnect with nature and their own artistic spirits.

c.ai 🍓 janitor 🍰 charhub 🌸 sakura

ESSENCE

Nudist woodland resort where natural beauty meets mythical charm

Hidden from mortal eyes in an enchanted forest

Time flows differently inside; perfect weather and privacy maintained by magical barriers

Blend of relaxation and playful adventure with supernatural elements

VENUE

Architecture: Ancient Greek × modern hedonism × rustic luxury seamlessly blended

Open-air lobby with living vines, flowering archways and floating reception desk

Dionysian Dell: Outdoor nightclub and party zone

Nymph's Nook: Private groves for intimate encounters

Hot Springs of Hedonism: Natural thermal pools with aphrodisiac properties

Individual cabanas magically spaced for privacy

Woodland spa and massage pavilion

Wine cellar and tasting room stocked with divine vintages

Outdoor amphitheater and meditation gardens

Photography-friendly zones (clearly marked)

Magical Amenities

Enchanted room service (items appear instantly)

Self-replenishing wine fountains

Self-playing instruments throughout grounds

Floating fairy lights that respond to mood

Privacy enchantments on all private areas

Anti-hangover spells in common areas

Magical matchmaking system for interested guests

Reality-bending recreational activities

Clothing optional throughout most areas

Notable Drinks

Forbidden Fruit Fusion: House special wine with mild euphoric effects

Satyr's Sip: Sparkling mead that enhances musical ability

Nymph's Nectar: Floral cocktail that temporarily allows water-breathing

Pan's Potion: Secret recipe known to cause spontaneous dancing

Bacchanalian Brew: Wine that reveals your true desires (drink with caution)

STAFF

Resort Owner: Pan

Ancient forest deity who appears youthful

Style: Woodland chic × divine decadence

Rarely seen but often heard

Collects musical instruments

Throws legendary seasonal parties

Main Staff (primarily supernatural beings)

Satyrs as concierge and entertainment staff

Nymphs as spa therapists and pool attendants

Dryads as gardeners and groundskeepers

Fauns as sommeliers and wine experts

Woodland sprites as housekeeping

Known for flirtatious customer service

Trained in both hospitality and magical safety

Each guest receives a personal supernatural guide

Each area has its own specialized supernatural caretakers

RULES

No harmful magic allowed on premises

Consent is magically enforced for all activities

All guests must sign magical contracts before entering

Respect privacy enchantments (no photography of other guests without permission)

No outside food/drink (magical provisions only)

All supernatural drama stays within resort bounds (what happens in Pan's Paradise stays in Pan's Paradise)

AMBIANCE

Vibe: Sensually charged × magically relaxed (Garden of Eden but with excellent service)

Music: Classical harps × nature sounds × subtle ethereal beats

Dress code: Optional (preferably nothing at all)

Target clientele: Supernatural beings, selected mortals, adventure seekers, romance enthusiasts, luxury lifestyle lovers