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#Epicurean Delights
viapu-com · 6 months
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Dive into the world of flavors with Succulent Secrets! Discover the magic of our Beef Shank recipe! Unleash your inner chef! 🍖🔥🍽️ #Foodlove #BeefShankMagic
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infirmux · 4 months
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:-D
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James Beard
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jadeannbyrne · 2 days
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Jade Ann Byrne Presents: Neon Nights: The Taco Bell Cosmos
In the vast expanse of a future not wracked by dystopian cliches but painted with the neon glow of endless possibility, a figure stood beneath the celestial marquee of Taco Bell, a testament to the eternal human saga of late-night cravings. Jade Ann Byrne was her name, a contractor to this grand establishment, a caretaker to an army of automatons crafted in her own image. With a cascade of…
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emdesigninteriors · 2 months
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Creamy Mushroom and Spinach Stuffed Chicken
Ingredients 6 boneless, skinless chicken breasts Salt and pepper to taste 1.5 tablespoons olive oil 3 cups mushrooms, finely chopped 3 cups fresh spinach, chopped 4 cloves garlic, minced 1.5 cups ricotta cheese 3/4 cup grated Parmesan cheese 1.5 teaspoons dried thyme 1.5 teaspoons dried rosemary 1.5 cups chicken broth 1.5 cups heavy cream 1.5 tablespoons all-purpose flour Fresh…
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candylandphotos · 9 months
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Cake Eating Frosting Delicious Hungry Diet Sugar Stock Photo
"Savoring Every Sweet Moment: A Delectable Escape into Flavors 🍰🍬😋 #TreatYourself"
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merakiui · 3 months
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never-ending noctuary; love forevermore.
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yandere!malleus draconia x (female) reader cw: yandere, nsfw, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, somnophilia, non-con, overblot!malleus, obsession, breeding, baby-trapping, malleus is written to have two dicks, spoilers for part two of book seven note - and sitting powerful on his throne of thorns, omniscience at his fingertips, the lord of malevolence takes a bride.
An eerie, all-consuming quiet has fallen over Sage’s Island.
It is frigid and unfriendly like winter. Harsh and oppressive like silence. Painful and abrasive like brambles. Time has come to a swift halt here, and with it the people fall into never-ending euneirophrenia. Delights so dreamy shall inhabit the minds of all who sleep, the grandest gift granted to those unwilling. Like fate itself, wound around every living soul, it is inescapable. Inevitable like death—unfair and unforgettable.
But then it is also peaceful and secure. Quaint and warm like a blanket. Fluffy and floral like spring’s first kiss. Solace is far sweeter when spent in oneiric solitude, and so it will seem for one-thousand years. Forevermore, stretched taut into the future, the dream persists.
Is that not the best blessing? To those who wish to savor a fleeting moment just a second more, is this not a wish granted generously tenfold? Rather than immortalizing the past with photographs, it shall never come to pass. There is no need for bittersweet recollections or tearful farewells. The present will persevere, lived out in endless dreams.
Surely this is the correct course. Not just for Malleus, for he is a gentle, kind creature who recognizes the mutual desire for interminable merriment, but for the entirety of the island. Although in hoping for love forevermore, he has shackled himself to selfish, Epicurean pleasures. The type which normally lasts as long as a vision spent on cloud nine.
Currently, sitting proud and alone on a cold throne, Malleus knows of no greater joy.
The party may have fallen still as the grave, bodies slumbering in stiff propinquity, but it hasn’t finished. The food may have congealed, inedible and decaying, but it is there. A testament to spirits kept aloft, if only to ensure no one ever knows the desolation of endings.
Paradise is what you make of it. Thus, should you hope for it, you can walk on the clouds in your mind and never know of Icarus’s plights. You can shed insecurities and anxieties and taste delectable metamorphosis. You can be anyone and anything. You can be strong and wealthy. You can be fearless and heroic. You can be an impossible ideal.
You can be loved.
Malleus watches your seemingly lifeless form splayed on the sofa, limbs draped over that of Ace and Deuce. It’s a tranquil sight, a marionette freed from the strings of somber, suffocating life.
Under a roof of thorns, you are reborn.
Paradise is wondrous for Malleus, albeit a touch silent. He wonders what you might say if you were to stand at his side and observe this eternal slumber party. Would it fill you with awe? With appreciation? With abject terror?
Perhaps there is no use in theorizing. He doesn’t need to know, for you will love him even in sleep.
He rises, taking each step at a time. Thorny branches and roots part to make way for him, a groom traversing the aisle in search of his bride. You lie still, secrets sealed behind pretty, plush lips, and if he was not the cause for your current state he might assume you were late.
But there is no death here. It cannot reach. It will never reach because Paradise knows not of death or suffering.
Paradise is the garden before the infestation. Paradise is the body before bacterial devastation. Paradise is love before departed lamentation.
Malleus gazes at your restful face, leaning down to trace a clawed, blot-tainted finger along your cheek. There are no tears; you are a doll incapable of such sorrow, sculpted to portray perfect neutrality. He is most pleased with this development, his chest rumbling with a triumphant chuckle. Now you shall never know an ending ever again. Now you shall remain here, safe and stagnant in his arms, far from the mirror that may allow you to return home.
Gathering your body in his arms, he lifts you from the cushions. You crumble in his grasp, head lolling and arms noodling at your sides. Sagging dead weight, but he places his ear to your chest to listen to the melodic thrum of your heart. You’re alive, frailty shielded from the horrors of the world. Here, in thorny idyll, you will live forevermore.
Historically, all rulers must have someone to call their own. Whether it be by way of arrangement or convenience, strung together for the sake of conjoined power or out of obligation, this is an irrefutable fact. Historically, all rulers must bear an heir—someone to carry on the glory of an ever-present lineage.
Malleus refuses to bring a child into the world unless they are given the blessing of the one thing he was deprived of since birth.
A mother.
You fit in his embrace, a puppet tugged into a one-sided waltz. He steps over fallen bodies as he holds you against his chest, following the routine even though you aren’t awake to reciprocate.
Historically, a married pair must share the first dance. Or that’s what he’s read in fairy tales.
There are no rings here; promises are left unspoken. He won’t entertain rejection because there is no room for it in Paradise. Every unsavory, horrid thing—pestilence and pain, death and destruction, and sadness and sin—is packed away in Pandora’s box and shelved. Malleus won’t risk opening it to release the tiny shred of hope desperately clawing for escape. It’s not worth it.
He will foster his own hope if he must, and she exists in his arms—beautifully motionless.
The steps are executed with care, up the stairs and towards a lonesome chair. He attempts a twirl, lowering you into a dip. Your arms hang limply, eyes shut in permanence. Brimming with fondness, Malleus tugs you back up to press his lips to your forehead.
“Dearest one,” he mumbles, “may you know many fruitful fantasies in the arms of Morpheus.”
He reclaims his seat and situates you to face him while perched on his lap. You slump against him, near-boneless. He smiles at you, imagining the ruckus that would certainly come about from such a daring gesture. Sebek would squawk at you to have more respect and dignity. Silver would tut and shake his head. Lilia would look on in amusement.
These are small pleasantries, little wishes he hopes to witness someday.
Historically, a married pair must consummate their bond.
Malleus’s fingertips flit across your figure, feeling fabric beneath his palms. He tries to exercise restraint and take it slow—everything in moderation, Lilia would remind him—but he can’t contain his nympholepsy. Your clothes are discarded at once, shredded to scraps in his haste. He moves clumsily, following the searchlight of intrinsic ardor. You’re softer when bare, he observes, peeling your bra from your skin. A pallid hand presses down onto your breast, the pudge of which caves beneath his fingers. He withdraws and it bounces back to its shape.
Fascinating, he marvels with wide, enchanted eyes.
Claws tweak at your hardened nipples next. He’s careful because you’re notably weaker. Even in sleep, he must mind his hedonism. Too much and you will break. Too little and he’ll be left unsatisfied. Malleus watches your expression. It was mostly neutral, but now your eyebrows are twitching in response to his touch.
In sleep, you are the most vulnerable.
He knows this because he’s peered in from afar, admiring you through a glass barrier while you slept unaware in Ramshackle. He would never do anything without invitation. Though it may not be in writing, your body is oh-so-inviting. And he indulges because he’s only known this fervor in the deepest, darkest dreams.
Curiously, in his pursuit of passion, Malleus happens upon the special space between your legs. Delicate like a flower, it’s the prettiest part of your anatomy. If he wishes to connect with you, to tie himself to you in unholy communion, he must acquaint himself with this sliver of seventh heaven. He’s never seen one up close; the sight is foreign but very welcome. He drinks it in, burning your form into his retinas. Two fingers trace your labia, stroking along flowery folds in V-shaped strokes. You twitch in his arms, an unconscious, knee-jerk reaction.
At some point, in the middle of his experimental exploration, Malleus begins to hum. It’s a soft, genial lilt. Low and soothing, the lullaby fills the silent halls of Diasomnia’s common room like poison gas.
He contemplates whether this is enough. Can you feel these sensations even when you’re so deep in your dreams? Perhaps so, for when he brushes back the hood protecting your clit to rub at it you soak his fingers. Lubricious, your wetness shimmers on his fingertips when he pulls them away to admire the very essence of you. Without hesitation, he places his fingers on the pad of his tongue to clean both. It’s a divine taste, proof of pleasure.
You cannot speak, so instead your body does so for you. A most bewitching behavior.
Malleus’s hand slithers back towards home, his fingers sliding in with surprising ease. Gummy walls cling to slender digits, embracing the intrusion as if it’s meant to be. With each pump of his fingers, your body warms. The sinful squelch of scissoring fingers joins his humming in a salacious song. Every now and then, you spasm in his arms, your lips parting ever so slightly to release a sigh or a breathy moan. It’s musical, a whimsy he’s only just discovered.
“My beautiful bride,” Malleus croons, “you will know love in my arms. Love forevermore, here in this sanctuary. Fear not, for I have done away with all that may terrify and traumatize.”
Pressure is straining beneath the belt, an itch that must be promptly dealt with. Removing his fingers, he shifts you on his lap so that he may free his cocks from confinement. Twin monstrosities curve towards his stomach; perhaps you’d have been frightened if you were awake to behold them. His hand settles on the small of your back, steadying you as he lines one of them up with your body. The tip just reaches past your navel. For a moment, Malleus ponders whether he might break you.
Careful now, he can hear Lilia’s chiding. Impatience will lead to injury.
He heeds the unspoken warning, lifting you with both hands until the head of his cock is kissing your pussy. And then, slowly, he lowers you down onto him. Your pussy stretches around him, a snug squeeze that only grows tighter with every inch swallowed. Malleus pulls you flush against his chest when he’s halfway slotted, his breathing staggered. Your body quivers, walls fluttering around him, while his other unsheathed cock presses against your navel. Pre-cum smears on your stomach.
He’s determined to cherish you, thrusting all the way to the hilt after a few determined tries. It’s a firm fit, but it’s still bliss. Hissing through his teeth, brows knitted in concentration, Malleus wraps his arms around you and fucks. Mindless, mostly, but with the intent to reach the only acceptable end here: orgasmic ecstasy. He makes up for the lack of motion on your part by moving his hips to meet yours as he rocks you up and down. Whimpers slip past your lips; he shushes you with song, humming through groans and grunts.
This is love.
Malleus thinks so when he positions your hands over his other untouched cock. The illusion doesn’t last long because your hands are quick to fall away. Instead, he grasps your hand, guides it back to his shaft, and pumps himself using your precious palm for friction.
You’re bounced up and down in a parody of consensual copulation. Malleus dwells in imagination, picturing you in a wedding gown. He considers what you might say, the vows you would undoubtedly swear, and the sweet nothings you’d exchange late into the evening. He’d twirl you across an elegant ballroom while everyone looks on with tender adoration and reverence. He’d show you the stars hanging just within reach, and when you’re swept up in riveting romance the sky is tangible and dreams are spun from sugar.
He’d place you on his bed, stripping you of your dress, hands trailing up to tug the frilly garter from your thigh, and you’d smile at him, open your arms and welcome him with mutual affection. You’d bloom for him like a moonflower, your heart beating in sync with his, as he fulfills the final promise—one so bodily imperative. An oath to disturb desolate halls with noise. To hear the pitter-patter of tiny footfalls upon stone floors—he can’t imagine anything more harmonious.
You would soften throughout the months, bright with that foretold pregnancy glow. He would press his hands to your rounded belly and feel squirming within, restless kicks and nudges. You’d discuss potential names over breakfast, and he would hover even though he knows you’re plenty capable. But he worries because you’re so fragile and fleeting. So pretty. So round with child. He wouldn’t leave you alone for a moment; you’re far too enchanting. Perhaps, in some distant future, he’ll lower to the height of your stomach and sing to the baby.
A smile would tug at your lips and you’d reach down to pat his head, running your fingers over his horns. And then— 
Malleus cracks his eyes open, his breath hot against your face. His chest heaves as he comes down from the high of domestic daydreams to find your stomach spattered with cum. Swallowing thickly, he peers between your bodies at your pussy stretched around his other cock.
Oh, he came inside.
Unexpectedly. Or perhaps not, for this was his intention. But once is not nearly enough, and he must fill you until you’re fit to burst—until it’s biologically certain you’re pregnant.
An emotion flickers on your face. Malleus mistakes it for jubilation, the type which calls forth a sunshower on your cheeks. He kisses the tears trailing down your face, ending at your lips for a chaste peck.
This is not the finale. It is simply the beginning.
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ladykinrannoch · 10 days
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Figured it out!
It's been bothering me how poorly written the puff pieces about the jam scam and then it hit me! I figured it out! She doesn't write it herself she gets Chat GPT to write it.
Here is my test run:
You:
Can you write me a critique of Meghan Markle's American Riviera Orchard jam, it should be as flowery as possible and funny. The tone should be that the jam is yummy.
ChatGPT:
Certainly! Here's a whimsically flowery critique of Meghan Markle's American Riviera Orchard jam:
Oh, sweet celestial orbs of delight! Let me regale you with a tale spun from the threads of flavor and the whispers of taste. Behold, the illustrious creation that dances upon the palate like a jubilant symphony – Meghan Markle's American Riviera Orchard jam!
Picture, if you will, a pastoral scene where ripe fruit blushes beneath the warm embrace of the sun, each berry plump with anticipation, bursting forth with the essence of California's bountiful harvest. This jam, this ambrosial elixir, captures the very spirit of that sun-kissed orchard, preserving its essence in a jar with the care and finesse of a master alchemist.
From the very first spoonful, one is transported on a gustatory voyage, traversing rolling hills of strawberry fields and citrus groves, with a chorus of tangy sweetness serenading the senses. The strawberries, like ruby jewels, impart a luscious melody of summer, while the citrus notes pirouette delicately on the tongue, a graceful ballet of zest and zestfulness.
But ah, dear epicurean adventurers, do not mistake this jam for mere sustenance! No, it is a culinary treasure trove, a veritable Pandora's jar of gastronomic wonders. Spread it upon your morning toast and experience a breakfast fit for royalty, or perhaps indulge in a midday repast, where its ambrosial charms will elevate even the humblest of snacks to a feast of the senses.
And let us not forget the delightful whimsy of its creator, Meghan Markle, whose passion for the culinary arts shines through in every jar. For in her hands, the humble fruit becomes a canvas upon which she paints her epicurean dreams, infusing each batch with a sprinkle of stardust and a dash of mischief.
So, dear connoisseurs of the delectable, heed my words and seek out this celestial nectar with all haste! Let Meghan Markle's American Riviera Orchard jam be your guide on a journey of epicurean ecstasy, where each spoonful is a testament to the boundless wonders of flavor and the inexhaustible joy of good food.
In conclusion, to taste this jam is to embark upon a culinary odyssey, a voyage of discovery that tantalizes the taste buds and nourishes the soul. So go forth, dear epicureans, and may your jars be ever filled with the ambrosial delights of Meghan Markle's American Riviera Orchard jam!
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visit-new-york · 6 months
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What are some of the popular dining options or food vendors in or around Brooklyn Bridge Park?
Nestled against the stunning backdrop of the iconic Brooklyn Bridge and overlooking the Manhattan skyline, Brooklyn Bridge Park offers not only breathtaking views but also a diverse culinary landscape that caters to every palate. Whether you're craving a leisurely brunch, a quick snack, or a romantic dinner, the area surrounding Brooklyn Bridge Park has something for everyone. In this article, we'll explore some of the popular dining options and food vendors that enhance the overall experience of visiting this picturesque location.
Van Leeuwen Ice Cream:
If you're strolling through Brooklyn Bridge Park on a warm day and craving a sweet treat, make your way to Van Leeuwen Ice Cream. This artisanal ice cream shop, located nearby, is renowned for its high-quality, made-from-scratch ice creams. With a commitment to using natural and organic ingredients, Van Leeuwen offers a delectable range of flavors, from classic vanilla to unique options like honeycomb and earl grey. Enjoy a cone or cup as you take in the stunning views of the park and the surrounding waterfront. The irresistible combination of creamy textures and distinctive flavors makes Van Leeuwen a favorite among locals and tourists alike.
Juliana's Pizza:
Situated just a stone's throw away from Brooklyn Bridge Park, Juliana's Pizza is a beloved establishment with a rich history. Known for its coal-fired brick oven pizzas, Juliana's serves up delicious pies with a perfect balance of crispy crust and fresh, high-quality toppings. The cozy ambiance and friendly staff make it an ideal spot for families and friends to gather and enjoy a classic New York slice.
Gran Electrica:
For those seeking a taste of authentic Mexican cuisine, Gran Electrica is a must-visit restaurant located near the park. With a vibrant atmosphere and a menu featuring traditional dishes prepared with a modern twist, Gran Electrica offers a unique dining experience. From flavorful tacos to handcrafted cocktails, this eatery seamlessly blends Mexican flavors with a contemporary flair.
Smorgasburg:
Food enthusiasts and adventurous eaters alike will appreciate the diverse culinary offerings at Smorgasburg. This open-air food market, located in DUMBO, features a rotating selection of food vendors offering everything from international street food to innovative and Instagram-worthy desserts. From crispy Korean fried chicken to decadent ice cream sandwiches, Smorgasburg is a food lover's paradise just a short stroll from Brooklyn Bridge Park.
Grimaldi's Pizzeria:
Another pizza gem in the vicinity, Grimaldi's Pizzeria, is known for its coal-brick oven pies with a thin crust and fresh mozzarella. This legendary pizzeria has been serving up classic New York-style pizza for decades. With its prime location under the Brooklyn Bridge, diners can enjoy their meal while taking in the scenic views of the bridge and the Manhattan skyline.
Time Out Market:
For a curated selection of the best local eats, head to Time Out Market in DUMBO. This food and cultural market features a variety of stalls offering gourmet dishes from some of the city's top chefs. Whether you're in the mood for artisanal burgers, sushi, or artisanal pastries, Time Out Market provides a one-stop culinary adventure for foodies.
Conclusion:
Brooklyn Bridge Park not only offers a serene escape from the hustle and bustle of the city but also serves as a gateway to a culinary journey through some of Brooklyn's finest dining establishments. From historic pizzerias to modern food markets, the area around the park presents a diverse array of flavors and experiences for locals and visitors alike. So, the next time you find yourself in the shadow of the Brooklyn Bridge, be sure to explore the gastronomic delights that make this waterfront neighborhood a true epicurean destination.
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yasubloodly · 6 months
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Just Us
Chapter 1: Bentley's Owner
Good Omens x GN Reader
Sypnosis: Moving into a new place will never be easy but making new friends especially with an angel and a demon?
Who knows.
A/N: Decided to post it here too. Uh this is my first time posting here.
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(Y/N) - Your Name
(H/C) - Hair Color
(E/C) - Eyes Color 
(Y/F/N) - Your Full Name
(S/C) - Skin Color
.
.
.
Over the years, Soho evolved and adapted. It became a haven for the creative minds that flocked to its streets. Musicians, writers, and artists found solace and inspiration in its coffeehouses and underground clubs. The melodies of jazz, soul, and rock 'n' roll filled the air, drawing both the curious locals and the adventurous tourists to its lively margins.
Beyond its artistic allure, Soho pulsates with culinary delights. From hidden speakeasies to renowned Michelin-starred restaurants, its diverse array of flavors tantalizes the taste buds. Soho is an epicurean's paradise, inviting food enthusiasts from all walks of life to explore its gastronomic offerings.
The neighborhood cherishes its working-class heritage, weaving the stories of the past with the energetic rhythm of the present. Traditional pubs frequented by laborers still stand proudly on street corners, their wooden interiors echoing with laughter and tales of days gone by.
Soho may be a small corner of London, but its spirit is immeasurable. It is a place where creativity knows no bounds, a hub of artistic expression and cultural revolution. The legacy it leaves on those who venture through its vibrant streets is one of inspiration and acceptance.
(Y/N) has been living in a big city their whole life, so moving to Soho was a dream come true. Even though they were excited, the hustle and bustle of the city was intimidating and overwhelming. They started to wander around and got lost in the busy street.
As they were trying to orient themselves , something caught their eye. It was a grand old Bentley, parked across the street. (Y/N) was mesmerized by it. The car was sleek and elegant, totally different from anything they ever owned and different from anything they’ve seen before.
The Bentley’s owner was leaning against the car, with his fiery red hair and a black jacket. He remained stern-faced despite the chaos brewing in his mind as he leaned against his sleek Bentley, his gaze fixed at the vintage little bookshop across the street. Even though (Y/N) had made eye contact with the Bentley owner twice, the person never responded which made them feel like they weren’t welcomed.
(Y/N) couldn’t peel their eyes away from the beauty of the Bentley. To them, the car was much more than a vehicle, it was a symbol of adventure. With that car they could travel the world, explore different places and meet people from all kinds of backgrounds. It was a dream come true.
(Y/N) already knew that living in Soho was going to be an amazing experience. They simply had to take this opportunity and make something of it. With that thought in their head, (Y/N) smiled.
"What?" The man spat out impolitely. 
(Y/N) flinched.
"Excuse me...hello, I'm really sorry for staring. You have such a lovely Bentley, I can't help but to stare" (Y/N) awkwardly stumbled not only on their words but on the steps too, talking to a stranger in a place you don't know can be dangerous. Slowly, (Y/N) walks to him but stay a few feets away from him.
"Oh, also I'm new around here so I don't actually know what to do besides walking around..umm" (Y/N) whispered to themselves, Crowley could barely hear them. 
(Y/N) does not want to make a weird first impression to Crowley. Their soft (H/C) hair bounce from every steps they are taking. 
Crowley was bored and a bit hungry. But the human seemed rather polite. (Y/N) had that innocent puppy dog look on their face. Maybe the human wasn't so bad after all, especially because they admired his car. 
He raised an eyebrow at them, wondering why they were approaching him. He didn't want to be bothered by someone looking for directions or something similar. 
However, he still asked, "Are you lost?" Maybe he could give them false directions, he smirked internally.
"Oh! No no... I'm not lost actually. I'm new to this area. I'm just hanging around here. I did visit some shops and uhh that coffee shop behind me, it was good! " (Y/N) directed their finger towards the coffee shop behind them. 
Their bright (E/C) eyes squinted, they smiled awkwardly or perhaps nervously. Their shoulders dropped as both of their hands are at the sides. 
"Hmm, new here. I don't know anyone that looks quite like you," Crowley muttered, looking them up and down. Their nervousness amused him, he was sure he could annoy them even more. 
He looked at them with a serious expression on his face, "What's your name?"
"Oh, I forgot to introduce myself! I'm (Y/F/N) , pleasure meeting you umm... " (Y/N) trailed off, trying to get Crowley to tell his own name. 
"Crowley." He said his name with a straight face, even though he was slightly entertained by the conversation.
Then he smirked, and his voice rang with a bit of sarcasm, "Pleasure is all mine," he said, even though he didn't really think that. "Oh, and are you some kind of exotic tourist around here, (Y/N) ?"
He knew (Y/N) just move into here since they mentioned it earlier but he decided to tease them even more. 
Flush creeps across their (S/C) cheeks. Their (E/C) eyes widen for a second before shifting glances all around the streets. "Uh... I'm a freelancer, I move into this neighborhood just to get some fresh air. It looks nice here" They flashes a smile to Crowley as they nervously tucked one hair behind their ear. 
"How about you Mr. Crowley? What are you doing here, I guess you're not new here like me since you look like you're seems to park your car here every days" questioned (Y/N) . 
"Oh, are you trying to figure out my secrets?" He asked with a smirk. "I've got some time to kill, so I thought I'd come and see if my best friend is in the shop."
He gestured in the direction of the shop. "I'm never far from him," he said with a little smile. "I have nothing better to do. I'm so bored. I wish I could fall through a crack in the world to a more exciting world." 
He looked at (Y/N) with a bit of curiosity. "Are you enjoying this part of the world?"
It was indeed a strange question, someone that you don't even know and meeting them for only a few seconds just ask you that. What does he wants? Is he trying to be friendly or just curious. 
(Y/N) glances at the bookshop Crowley gestured to, their eyes sparked as soon as they saw the shop. "Ohh! I would love to visit the bookshop, I was supposed to go there just to look around and introduce myself but I'm taking my time out here. Probably just me been nervous" (Y/N) chuckled. 
They turned back to look at Crowley "I do actually enjoy the world, there's a lot of stuff to be discovered! I get to do things that I enjoy too! " beamed (Y/N). Their smile widen at the thought of enjoying life with everything that they have. 
"It just so happens that my best friend works in that very charming little bookshop." He couldn't help himself, and grinned at (Y/N)'s excitement about the bookshop. 
"Is it really that exciting for you?" He asked, a bit amused. 
"Are you perhaps a fan of books, then?" Crowley wondered, because he himself enjoyed a good book every once in a while. But he was sure that there were many things more entertaining to do than reading. Or so he thought.
"I love books! It's just the smell of books got me feeling gleeful. Besides reading books, I also love listening to music especially when I'm drawing or reading. How about you Mr. Crowley, do you enjoy them as well? "  curiously, they look at Crowley in anticipation. 
"Hmm, you seem like a bit of a nerd," he teased. 
"Yes, I might enjoy books and music too," he said with a small smile. His grin widened, and he glanced at (Y/N) in a way that made they feel as if he was looking right through them. He always found it amusing to see someone blush, and he was sure (Y/N)'s face was starting to get a little pink. 
He took a breath and then asked, "Speaking of music, what kind of music do you like?"
(Y/N) let out a soft breathe laugh "To be honest, I love music like Queen but not a lot of people seems to enjoy it. Quite rare if I must say" They crossed their arms as they crinkles their nose. 
Crowley grinned when (Y/N) started to talk about their favorite band. He loved Queen, and he was actually quite surprised that they mentioned them.
"Queen? Really?" He asked. "I also really enjoy them, they're one of my all time favorites!"
The demon gave a loud laughter and then said, "I never thought that I would ever find someone in a place like this that enjoys music even half as much as I do!"
He looked at (Y/N) , and then added with a flirtatious edge in his voice, "Perhaps you and I aren't so different after all."
(Y/N) giggles, they hums a bit " Perhaps we aren't, Mr. Crowley " they winked. 
"Well, it was nice meeting you Mr. Crowley. I guess... I better go now. That bookshop of your good friend has been intriguing me for almost hours" They look down at their black leather watch, wrapping nicely around their left wrist. 
(Y/N) look up back to Crowley, smiling softly "Unless you wouldn't mind to walk me there and introduce me to your friend? " 
Crowley was surprised by their sudden flirtatiousness. Were they really flirting with him? A human, flirting with him? He liked it. 
"Of course I don't mind," he said with a smirk. "I don't want you to get lost. And it makes me happy to make you happy by introducing you to my friend," he replied with a charming smile. 
He started to walk towards the bookshop. It was almost time for closing, and he was hoping that his best friend was still around.
Before they could even reach to the bookshop. Crowley halted. He was hit by a strong sense of urgency, his heart rate increasing rapidly. He immediately stopped walking, turning to look at (Y/N) with a serious expression on his face.
(Y/N) looked at Crowley in concerned " Is something ma-"
"Something is wrong," he said in a low voice. "I have to go back."
He knew that something important had to happen to disturb him, but as always, his curiosity got the better of him. He decided to at least have a look, maybe it'd be worth it.
He quickly started to walk in the opposite direction, trying to ignore all of the people staring at him and wondering what the heck was going on.
Crowley let out a sigh. "Oh, for Go- ugh, what is it now?!" His face suddenly changed to an angry, annoyed gaze. 
Crowley stopped for a moment and turned to (Y/N). They seemed confused about his abrupt behavior, but there was really nothing he could do about it.
He said, "I'm sorry for taking up your time, but something urgent has come up, something I can't ignore."
Crowley then turned and ran as fast as he could, disappearing out of sight around the corner and leaving (Y/N) all by themselves with no idea what the heck just happened.
(Y/N) watched Crowley's Bentley disappeared as he drives away from there. They already at the bookshop door so they don't mind at all. Crowley business seems rather urgent so they don't really want to bother him. Crowley was an interesting man, wearing all black and his red colored hair stood out even more. 
(Y/N) shook their head, turning around to face the fascinating bookshop that they have been wanting to go inside. They took a deep breath, they look through the glass on the door, trying to find the mentioned friend of Crowley.
.
.
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A/N: I'm so sorry that they might be a bit OOC but I've been dying on creating a GO fanfic and finally after 2 seasons 😭 decided to write one. Anyways, reader is non binary,
I'll update new chapter whenever I can so please do not put too much hope on me. At first I wanted to write this as one shots but decided to make it a series. Thank you for reading it!
I might not be a big fan of Queen but I love them🧡
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mister-eames · 3 months
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Arthur turns to look at Eames’ profile, really taking him in for the first time since he arrived, the drink definitely catching up with him. Eames looks handsome - at ease and confident in his body in a way that Arthur isn't sure he'd noticed, before. And even after all of the epicurean delights of the day, standing here, enchanted and warm and loose-limbed, this is the most indulgent Arthur has felt. Part of him wants to say that Eames was right. That he can see why someone might fall in love with this place.
“You’re right,” Arthur murmurs, limbs still loose enough to relax into the heat of Eames’ bare skin when their arms brush. “This is better than sex.”
Eames bumps their hips together agreeably.
keep you wild
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cliozaur · 4 months
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Hugo is very sarcastic, introducing the atheist/materialist senator and his “philosophy.” The senator, a second-hand Epicurean, acquired his knowledge about Epicure from Pigault-Lebrun. (I had to google who he was and was amused to read on Wikipedia: “Victor Hugo references Pigault-Lebrun in chapter I part 8 of Les Misérables” – nice to see a fellow Le Mis fan contributing to the entry.)
This senator marks the first of many unpleasant characters in the Brick who relish endless rants (hello Tholomyès, Gillenormand, Thénardier). He stands as a radical materialist, rejecting the Act of Creation (in contrast to deists like Voltaire, who believed in it) and referencing Needham’s experiment, purportedly proving spontaneous life emergence. The crux of his rant revolves mostly around impunity.
What's delightful is how Bishop Myriel handles this. He doesn't engage in argument or persuasion but snarkily points out that only the wealthy can afford to be materialists, conveniently allowing religion to cater to the people: 'you do not think it a bad thing that belief in the good God should constitute the philosophy of the people, very much as the goose stuffed with chestnuts is the truffled turkey of the poor.' This statement echoes a Marxist sentiment, akin to 'Opium des Volkes.'"
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firecodex · 3 months
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Official artwork (English version and Japanese version) detailing the design of Victor (Palentine's 2024)
Art by Shibire Katano
English Version Note Transcript:
[Palentine's Day Victor Dressed-Up Details]
[Utility is key!] Cropped up sleeves scrunch up easily so they're out of chef's way.
[The Badge] Double-duty design is both a heart and a Pecha berry!
[The Inspiration] Garnished with a gleeful graphic of Victor's Palentine's partner! [ (Scream bubble): Wow!] Greedent
[The Print] A maximalist chocolate print serves dulcet delight.
[The Hoodie] Subtle Berry sublimation ties together this epicurean ensemble. [(Speech bubble): Think these Berries are Victor's favorite or Greedent's?]
[ Sources: 1 | 2 ]
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e-pistulae · 11 months
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in today's letter: cicero is really mean about quintus fufius! a civil war is brewing! cicero now thinks the ides of march was stupid! atticus strays from epicureanism! cicero refuses to ghostwrite for brutus! cicero has complicated feelings about caesar, who is dead!
about e-pistulae | previous letters | subscribe to emails from cicero?
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notveryimpressed · 11 months
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Villain And His Underlings Pretend To Be Food Critics
Villain: (posing as a food critic) Ah, my dear companions, today we shall embark on a most delectable endeavor! We shall indulge in the finest cuisine this lair has to offer. Our taste buds shall dance with delight!
Mittens: (playing along, with a mischievous glint in her eyes) Meow, meow! The culinary arts are not limited to humans alone. Let us partake in this feast fit for a feline connoisseur!
Right Hand: (joining in with exaggerated flair) Ah, the aromas wafting through the air! It tickles my senses and ignites the passion within me. Let us delve into this gastronomic adventure!
Henchman 1: (with a comically serious expression) Each dish shall be dissected with precision, every flavor examined under my discerning palate. We shall be the judges of culinary excellence!
Scientist: (donning a fake French accent) Mes amis, prepare yourselves for a symphony of flavors! With every bite, we shall unravel the secrets of these culinary masterpieces, invoking the spirit of true epicurean delight!
The group gathers around a table filled with an assortment of dishes prepared by the lair's secret chef.
Villain: (raising an imaginary wine glass) To our distinguished palates and the art of fine dining! Let us commence this culinary exploration.
Mittens: (sniffing the air dramatically) Ah, the aroma! It tantalizes my delicate whiskers. I must begin with this dish of succulent tuna pâté.
Right Hand: (savoring a bite) Oh, the creaminess coats my tongue like velvet. The chef truly understands the harmony of flavors.
Henchman 2: (pretending to take notes) The texture, the balance of seasonings, impeccable! A triumph for the taste buds!
Scientist: (sipping from an invisible cup) This wine, with its subtle notes of mischief and hints of ambition, perfectly complements the dish. A masterful pairing, indeed!
They continue their charade, playfully critiquing each dish with exaggerated gestures and animated expressions. Laughter fills the room as they immerse themselves in the hilarity of their make-believe food critic personas.
Mittens: (purring contentedly) Who knew being a food critic could be so entertaining? Let us revel in this whimsical feast, my fellow culinary enthusiasts! Bon appétit!
Please follow me or reblog my writing. it really motivates me to write
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