Tumgik
#pear and caramel shake
dr-aculaaa · 3 months
Text
Lately Drac’s been thinking about….
Tumblr media
Being the last house on Baron’s letter carrier route. Sometimes he tries to get deliveries done a little earlier than noon so he has more time to linger near your picket fence.
Parking his bike near that big tree in your backyard, quickly fixing his wind-blown hair to make it neat and tucked back behind his ears as he approaches you crouched over your rose bushes.
The way your face lights up to see him, even if it’s just to see that small box tucked under his elbow of new watercolor paints you ordered or that letter addressed to you from a publishing company both of you crossed fingers for, hoping they’ll accept some of your poetry.
That sudden fade in your flickering eyes despite that smile you keep on your face in front of him. That small tiny bite on the inside of your lip that chokes down rejection- followed with a big exhale and a oh well demeanor he sees more than often.
There’s always next time!
A voice as sweet as the smell of those salmon-pink Boscobels between the two of you with a wonderful scent like myrrh, pears, elderberries and almonds- all from your care, you speak again,
“How were your deliveries this mornin’ Baron?”
He shrugs, a voice soft, always soft spoken, chest tightening from the way you twirl a pruned rose between fingers while not breaking eye contact as he licks lightly chapped lips,
“Nothin’ too ‘memorable… but… I did see on the marquee that they’re playing Wutherin’ Heights later this afternoon.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah… N’I saws you readin’ that book once, so I just figured it’d be somethin’ you’d be interested in knowin’. ”
Clutching the soon to be discarded letter in your hold, the thought of him watching from afar as you sat in your garden with one of your favorite Brontë sisters brings a fluttering to your very center like wisp butterflies on meadow buttercup wildflowers.
“Which one are they playin’ ?”
“Huh?”
“Which version of the movie are they playin’ for the matinee? The one with Timothy Dalton or the one with Laurence Oliver?”
“Oh…” his lips stay in an opening, showing off the bottoms of his two big and cute front teeth. It closes as lips press tightly and he bashfully smiles with a shake of his head, “I’m not too sure… but I was thinkin’ about-”
He pauses, a small chuckle as it starts to heat up under his button up uniform shirt and postal service blue blazer at his neck.
There’s a gentle summer breeze that carries a small lock of his sun-bleached honeyed-caramel waves over his strong and pointed freckled nose that’s taking every bit of your strength to not reach over and tuck it back behind those big ears that were now as pink as your roses.
“I was thinkin’ about… askin’ if I could take you to see it. I ain’t never read the book like you, so, I don’t know what it’s really about.”
Baron watches as you tuck your nose into that large bloom, a hum of contemplation on the spontaneous event that interrupted your plans of doing nothing but staring at an empty canvas or an empty page waiting for your wordsmith attention.
“You wanna take me to the movies?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he nods with a sincerity full of hope after waiting for an opportunity like this to come along for weeks, “-very much so.”
You smile at this boy, nay, young man, from the way you catch those few curls of dark hair peeking from his undershirt collar, the lines near his eyes as he squints to see you in this high-noon light.
This is your Baron, the young man that inspired you to pour out those couplets of humid summertime yearning after these few minutes of interaction on the daily stained your every thought like golden tumeric until you laid yourself to rest in a big empty bed.
You bet your Baron runs real warm, seeing him wear those silly mid-thigh length shorts even in late fall on his deliveries. The sweat on his brow evident of pedaling around town with a purpose, his wide palms smelling of the rubber gripped on his handlebars.
“Sure, Honey,” you smile at the man who was melting on the inside like a RocketPop from the way that sweet name breezed into his brain on this warm afternoon. “Sounds like a treat.”
A treat, he smiles, hopping back onto his bike, half a dozen roses in his basket you told him to put in some fresh water with a little bit of 7-Up so the blossoms lasted longer for his mother when he headed home to shower and change.
Honey, Baron catches himself helplessly and stupidly grinning at the thought of being your Honey.
Sweetness is everything he gave to you, sweetness is all he thought you deserved.
To hold those thorn prickled fingers of yours, woven between his; to kiss the tips that bury themselves in the earth and pinch the ink that flows poetry in motion.
He daydreams of listening to you call him Honey once more, imagining his head on your lap with his back to gingham under the clouds, soaking up sun and the recited words from your sonnets. Haikus. Prose poems. Anything, as your hand runs through his hair,
‘Did you fall asleep, Honey?’
‘Mm- just restin’ my eyes, Darlin’ ”
Oh my darling, oh my darling, you pop another clementine in your Huckleberry’s mouth before ruby lips come down to paint the apples of his cheeks like the canvases in your sun room.
So he neatly combs his hair, washes behinds his ears, and uses that old spice cologne that will tickle your nose as you greet him in that babydoll dress, Miss Mary Mack, dressed in black with silver buttons all down your back.
A pachyderm on his chest, his hand itches to rest upon the fabric’s juxtapose along your spine and guide you to your seats.
In the dark, shoulder to shoulder, seated upon plush velvet and sticky floors he’s trying to ignore, as the fatal and selfish side of love is projected onto the white screen. Baron gulps down nothing, despite the large Icee between your seats with two straws.
It’s the way he can smell your perfume, the way your bare knee rests upon his over-worn denim. The way your hand reaches over to his lap for popcorn and you softly whisper into his ear as you tell him to keep in mind certain things for the plot.
Baron would have to watch the movie again, overcome by the way you tucked an arm under his bicep to wrap around his elbow and lay your head on his for the rest of the movie.
Luckily, for him, you owned it on VHS.
Lucky for you, Baron still had a VCR.
‘It was not the thorn bending to the honeysuckles, but the honeysuckles embracing the thorn.’
223 notes · View notes
thechaoticcurator · 3 months
Text
Pascal, The Yandere Priest
Tumblr media
✧Hi! So, this is my first story/fanfic on Tumblr so go easy on me! Hopefully, I’ll post more of my yan stories I’ve been brewing and small lil drabbles I’ve been working on. I hope you enjoy✧ :3
Tw: Religion, Yandere shenanigans, codependency, attempted assault of a child (I in no way support that nasty ass shit), poisoning, murder
Pascal, since childhood was an individual of unshakable faith. Blind faith others would say. Being left on a porch step, living in an orphanage, having to eat rations, even being bullied by fellow orphans didn't shake them.
After all, they knew they stood out with a short, slim body, round face with blotchy, rosy skin, grey eyes a little too big for their face and thin, unwashed black hair.
None of this affected them, however. Pascal, in addition to having an unshakable faith had an unusual patience and calmness about them. Maybe because they weren't alone.
They had Mira! It seemed like she could take on the world as She was strong, She was bold, She was... everything to Pascal. Even with Her choppy, curly caramel hair, bulkier body, rough warm brown skin and furrowed but kind light brown eyes, the adored Her nonetheless.
Mira and Pascal went on plenty of adventures beyond the stone walls of the orphanage in their secret hiding place beneath the orphanage's pear tree. One day, they would be pirates, sailing across the sea, searching for treasure and catching scurvy. Another day, they were explorers, going through the harsh jungles, surviving on the fruits and vegetables around them and meeting playful animals. Pascal lived for these adventures and wished they would never end...
Until it did, unfortunately, on that fateful night. It was a cold night with hard rain beating on the orphanage windows. For some reason, Pascal couldn't sleep. They needed to see Mira. She was their safe space. They felt like they needed Her...? They tip-toed to the girl's quarters in the orphanage, propped open the door slightly with a stone and peeked in the room to search for her bedroll. They couldn't believe what they saw that night.
Disgusting grunting from an older man, a member of the orphanage staff and the nearby church and Mira being held down, tears threatening to fall from Her eyes with a hand being held over Her lips.
"Keep it down. You wouldn't want to wake the others and let them see you like this, would you?" Came a hushed voice.
To say Pascal blacked out would be an understatement. They had never lost their composure like that before. Their tiny hands grasping for the stone propping the door came down and struck the man's head an unknown amount of times. They remember it all; the man's pained grunts, Mira's surprised gasp, the sound of stone hitting bone and breaking skin.
Then came feeling a soft hand, ceasing their attack.
She was covered in splatters of blood, Her hair curled around Her sweaty face and Her normally stubborn eyes were red and puffy with streaks of freshly fallen tears.
She cradled Pascal's face gently and spoke in a soft tone, "It's okay. It's over, it's over. Look at me. It's over..."
They dropped the rock and She wrapped her arms around them softly and just...held them there.
The last thing they remember is gazing up at Her before coming to a realization...they loved Her. This was their bond, bound together by this moment with the blood of the man staining both of them. They fell into a dreamless slumber that night, still in Mira's embrace.
The next morning they awoke...in their bed? Pascal was confused. Was the night before a bad dream? Did they imagine that significant event? They ran into the girls room without a second thought and were surprised to see girls and nuns huddled around Mira's bedroll.
One of the girls briefly turned and pointed at Pascal while talking to one of the nuns. Were they in trouble? Was their crime figured out? They did forget to clean up the body? Was Mira in trouble too?
They were so wrapped in their thoughts that they didn't notice the nun crouch in front of them.
"Pascal? Can I have a word with you privately?"
Pascal looked up abruptly and the nun didn't look upset or horrified but...worried?
They nodded with faux meekness and followed the nun.
The whole walk around the orphanage, they wondered if the nun knew something. Also... where was Mira? They hoped She was ok. Surely She would've looked for Pascal after yesterday's...events?
The nun stopped walking when they stepped in the orphanage yard, in front of a familiar pear tree and once again kneeled in front of Pascal and put a hand on their shoulder.
"Mira was nowhere to be found in the orphanage. Today her roll was empty and all her belongings appear to be gone. We believe she might've run away," she started softly.
Pascal's heart dropped. Was it their fault She left? Was She afraid of being indicted for their crime? Didn't She know Pascal would've taken the fall for everything? For Her?
"Pascal? Be honest with me, alright? Do you have any idea where she might've gone? A nearby town? A...A hiding place, perhaps?"
Pascal blankly stared at the nun and didn't move an inch. They felt empty. This was all their fault. But what else could they have done? Let Her get assaulted by that disgusting man? They would rather die.
They would hit him over and over and over and over and over and ov-
"Pascal, I understand you're upset right now and so am I! But Mira could be in trouble right now. So we need your help right now to find Her. Do you have any ideas as to where She could've gone?"
Upset? Upset isn't the correct word for how Pascal felt. They don't think the word for how they felt was created yet. They continued to just stare at the nun. She sighed and led Pascal back to their bed and stalked off quickly, probably to get information about Mira’s whereabouts.
The next couple of weeks, Pascal was despondent. Mira was everything to Pascal. They just found out they were love for god's sake! They didn't eat, bathe and barely could sleep. Until one day, they felt something tripped over something that had rolled from under their bed.
They picked up the mysterious item and their eyes widened. It was a rolled up piece of paper with familiar handwriting, written with urgency. To Pascal, it read.
They hastily rolled it open and read diligently, ignoring the nauseating metallic smell radiating from the paper.
First of all, I just want to say I'm sorry for leaving you this way. You must be so confused and upset. I just...couldn't stay here anymore. Not after that. It isn't your fault, though. I've always felt trapped here...but you were my light. I thought about taking you with me but I don't want you to possibly get hurt because of me. I don't know where I'm going to be honest. Just away from here. Mark my words though: I will be back for you. I'm so sorry, Pascal. I love you so so much.
Mira
PS: you don't have to worry about the old creep. I took care of him. No one will ever find him. The tree makes sure of that.
At the end of reading it, Pascal realized they were crying. They moved quickly to wipe away their tears and rolled up the letter and put it under their bed again.
She loved them! She said She’ll be back, right? But, how long will that take? Days? Months? Years? Decades? They shook their head and took a deep breath.
She said She would be back. They would just have to believe in Her.
This was the motivation to keep Pascal going. They gradually began to improve. They ate again, began to make 'friends' with other orphans and excelled in school. All the while waiting patiently and quietly for Mira's return.
Being an orphan made it very easy to join the church early where a priest, Father Juan, took Pascal under his wing as a protégé, maybe put of pity or they saw promise in Pascal. Before this, however, they visited the orphanage pear tree one last time, knowing the nostalgia and secrets hidden within it.
They wondered if they ascended to priesthood, would Mira hear and come back to them quicker…?
Pascal learned to recite proverbs like the back of their hand. They got the hang of being part of the clergy rather quickly and soon understood the inner workings of the church and most importantly, the art of deception from Father Juan as the church was full of hypocrisy from the so-called practitioners and especially his mentor.
Father Juan was the biggest hypocrite, extorting the people of the church out of their hard-earned coin under the guise of serving their God and seducing widows and wives who he made false promises to when he whisked them away to his bedchambers at night.
This came back to bite him in the ass, however.
One day, the priest just dropped dead. Poisoning, they said. That was easy and surprisingly fast. Pascal wondered if it was one of the people the priest had extorted or was it a vengeful widow or a wife trying to hide her adultery?
But for now, they had to feign immense hurt and pain. It was easy to do: they just thought of the day Mira left and channeled those emotions and tugged at the heartstrings of the members of the church.
They entered priesthood at the young age of 24. Many were surprised but a majority believed that's what their beloved fallen priest would have wanted and Pascal acted surprised, but of course they humbly accepted.
Pascal found it easy to be a priest, the love and faith they had in Mira went reciting scripture and moving the believers around them. Every word of praise they made towards 'God' were secretly declarations of love and praise for Her.
To keep from faltering on their mission, they read Mira's note every night. Her declaration of love and promise to return kept Pascal steadfast and sane in their unshakable faith.
Then it happened.
They remember the date like it was yesterday. May 11th, as they were doing confessions, just listening to the daily woes and sins of their followers, the church doors swung open.
They politely excused themselves from the confessional with the faux smile they learned to replicate from Father Juan so many times and went to calmly confront the intruders about intruding during this time.
But they stopped in their tracks.
A sharp gasp could be heard echoing off the church walls.
Familiar light brown eyes with a furrow to them, short, curly choppy caramel hair, warm brown skin now covered in numerous scars...
Pascal fell to their knees as though they were praying.
She took several hesitant steps towards them and then those steps became a jog which became a sprint. Upon contact, She cradled their face and they looked up at her again after 13 years.
She looked ethereal under the soft glow of the surrounding candles. It was like She was their God.
Her hands felt more callous, but they didn't mind.
"Mira..." They breathed out softly.
"Mira... Mira...I knew- I knew you would come back."
She gave a small breathless laugh that sounded heavenly to their ears.
"You were always so stubborn, Pascal." Her voice sounded rougher, they thought to themselves.
They abruptly stood up, She was still just a bit taller than them, and hesitantly wrapped their arms around Her and laid their head in Her bosom.
But She just chuckled and held them back.
"You got bigger! You look like you could put up a good fight against me." She ran her hands through their hair affectionately which made Pascal sigh warmly.
"And you grew your hair out, too? I always thought you looked like a girl. You were always prettier than me. Now you really do fit the part!"
Pascal didn't really even register what She was saying as they were listening to Her heartbeat. Even though She seemed calm and collected, Her heart was beating a mile a minute.
They just listened, revelling in Her body heat, Her scent, Her being.
She was here, in the flesh. They felt if they let go of Her, She would disappear. They held Her a little tighter.
This was a result of their unshakable faith.
Their unshakeable faith in Her and they made a silent vow to never let Her go again.
35 notes · View notes
stridersdiner · 7 months
Text
Bergamot. Oak. Linen.
Three scent profiles that never meant much to you before he did.
Tumblr media
Bergamot.
Eau Pour Le Jeune Homme, Maitre Parfumeur et Gantier. Top: Orange, bergamot. Middle: Nutmeg, coriander. Base: Sandalwood.
Like lazing across from each other at the dinner table. Steam billowing over mugs of earl gray tea, cookies that one of the nice old women in town had shoved into your hands just earlier that day stacked haphazardly on a plate between the two of you. Clear vase of purple catmint, yellow coneflowers, and whorled milkweed sitting at the end of the table runner to your left.
His chuckle turns into a snort as he scribbles onto a sticky note, peeling it back and slapping it down next to your mug as he turns his attention back to his phone. He's been doing this the entire time you two settled down at the table. You regret influencing his Instagram algorithm. Messy blue ink sprawls out the yellow piece of paper.
betray, belittle, boytoy
Oak.
Gentleman Reserve Privée, Givenchy. Top: Bergamot. Middle: Chestnut. Base: Whiskey, amber.
Like special occasions. You sit on the bed, watching him rubber band between the bathroom and the bedroom to get ready to leave. You've been ready for at least ten minutes, but he insists on looking his best for this party your parents were throwing, and that meant rummaging through his fancy fragrances. He's never overbearing with it- always just enough cling to him and his clothes. Neck, inner elbows, wrists- always, like clockwork.
He has no idea what the fancy words on the bottles mean, but he does know that he doesn't want to smell like anything resembling 'toilet', so eau de parfum is the next best thing. You can catch wafts of it lingering in the air as he moves, before he finally stands proudly before you, hands on his hips, and a proud wide-toothed smile on his face.
"Y'ready?"
Linen.
Lin Blanc, Jeanne en Provence. Top: White flowers, pear. Middle: Lavender, cotton. Base: Vanilla, white woods.
Like freshly dried sheets. He dedicates Sunday to laundry day. The washer and dryer in the house are still pretty new and practically pristine, but he will always air out and pin up the bedsheets and pillowcases on the clothesline like Ma did when he was younger. It makes him feel better to shake them out and flatten them out against the line outside in the backyard- nostalgic, really.
Sometimes he lays down in the grass beneath them after a few hours. He stares up at the bright blue sky. Sheets dance along the cool breeze, like the fluttering fabric of a waltz. You watch curiously through the window the first few times, and eventually, you convince yourself to go outside and lay next to him.
And he welcomes you happily.
"That cloud looks like a cow."
Bonus.
The Most Wanted, Azzaro. Top: Cardamom. Middle: Toffee. Base: Amberwood.
He pulled the bottle out of the box and buried it in his sock drawer in the walk-in closet. You're half sure he got it just because it looks like a revolver cylinder. You've test-sprayed it on your wrist before- sickly sweet caramel, strangely spiced- and you scrunched your nose at it. He laughed from the doorway.
It was supposed to "settle," he had said. Whatever that means. It had been maybe a month since he hid it away, so imagine your surprise when he finally pulls the bottle out. You cringe a little as you recall the scent while he mists it onto the collar of his button down, watching the fragrance just hook onto the fabric. He chuckles at your expression as he affixes one of his watches to his wrist. You take a half step back as he comes towards you, but the smell isn't nearly half as bad nor domineering as it first was- suddenly subtly sweet and tangy. He simpered as your expression mellowed.
"Better now, ain't it?"
Tumblr media
Babes that wanted to be tagged:
@mockerycrow @kivino
46 notes · View notes
mcchill-16 · 8 months
Text
The Things Worth Living For
“Othello. Don’t press your face to the window. You’ll fog up the glass…,” #136649 mutters before pulling out a pack of cigarettes and a Zippo while Othello peers into a candy store.
“Oooooo…! Licorice Allsorts, Wine Gums, Pear Drops, Fruit Pastilles, salted caramel toffee… Hey, Whitey! What’s your favorite kind of sweet?”
#139949 shrugs, “Anything that has cinnamon and sugar, coffee, or caramel in it I ‘spose,” before taking a puff of his cigarette, and Othello frowns slightly.
“Keep smoking, and you’re going to damage your lungs…”
“I’m dead anyway, so why does it matter? Besides… nicotine is one of the few things in this world that can keep me somewhat sane with this dead end job.”
Othello chuckles at #136649’s unintentional pun, and the latter gives him a confused look, “What’s so funny?”
“Heheh… ‘Dead end’ job.”
#136649 snorts and shakes his head, smiling lightly, “I’ll admit that your company is the second thing.”
Othello cheekily reaches into his companion’s pocket, pulls out the pack of cigarettes, and sticks one in between his teeth, “Light me.”
“Says the guy who told me that I should quit smoking…”
Othello expects #136649 to use the Zippo to light his cigarette but, instead, he leans forward while closing his eyes and presses the tip of his to Othello’s, “There. You can count that as our first kiss.”
Othello’s face and ears turn pink though he doesn’t object to the silverette’s actions. After their cigarettes have been burnt down to stumps, they flick them into the gutter to extinguish them before walking into the candy store.
Ding
Ding
As Othello fills up a bag with Licorice Allsorts and #136649 samples a coffee and caramel crème hard candy, he picks up on a conversation between a woman and her son.
“Mother! Can I pleeeeeeease get the rabbit?!”
“No, dear. It’s far too expensive.”
‘Rabbit? What rabbit?,’ #136649 thinks to himself before he spots a plush rabbit holding a small basket of assorted truffles. ‘Ah… I see now…’
He grabs the rabbit from the display case, and brings it up to the counter to be rung up along with his and Othello’s sweets. As the boy sulks past him, he taps his shoulder, “Young lad.”
“Hm?”
The boy looks up at him with sapphire blue eyes, and he’s taken aback by how stunning they are before he quickly regains his composure, coughs, and hands the stuffed animal to him, “Here. My treat.”
The boy gives him a buck toothed grin, “Really, Mister?!”
“Of course!”
“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”
The boy takes one of the truffles from the basket, and shyly hands it to #136649, “I’m sorry my mother and I can’t repay you…”
#136649 laughs heartily as he takes the candy, “It’s no worries, son. I’ll consider this as enough payment. You take care of that rabbit now. You hear me?”
“Yes, sir!”
The boy runs off to show his mother his new possession, and Othello smirks at #136649, “I never took you as someone who likes children, Whitey…”
“Of course I do,” #136649 unwraps the truffle, and pops it in his mouth. “They find a way to light up even my bleakest of days. It’s a shame that they’re so rare in our realm…”
“So nicotine, sweets, children, jokes, and me. Those are the things that keep you going, eh?”
“Precisely.”
@lord-pineapple-doodles
10 notes · View notes
mazikomo · 2 years
Text
Unusual Muse Associations 
triple tagged by @nemo-my-name-forevermore @rumor-imbris​ and @ellztrash. I'm slow I know.
Doing this for my main OCs; the brains, brawn, and beauty gals; Reavilia, Mattie, and Andrea Mixing canon and modern day. Won’t be doing every category, just the ones that tickle my brain. 
Reavilia 
Tumblr media
SEASONING: kosher salt. versatile, savory, brings out the best in the dish it's going into
WEATHER: a misty morning, just after a hard rainfall, everything is quiet
COLOR: navy blue, polished gold, and white
SKY: overcast, you know a nourishing rain is coming but it's still a nice day before it does
MAGICAL POWER: healing, it's kinda her whole deal
WEAPON: smoke bombs and her wit
SUBJECT: biology
SOCIAL MEDIA: reddit and instagram
MAKEUP PRODUCT: sharp eyeliner with a deep red lip
CANDY: life savers, something that lasts awhile, partial to the mint ones
FEAR: not being enough, lack of guarantee, small spaces
ICE CUBE SHAPE: ice ball in a glass tumbler
ART STYLE: impressionist, bold brush swatches, impactful but not refined
MYTHOLOGICAL CREATURE: caladrius bird, draws sickness away from others and into itself, then releases it far away
PIECE OF STATIONERY: pocket notebook
THREE EMOJIS:  🦿🪡🍸
CELESTIAL BODY: milky way, beautiful and vast, always something new to be discovered
Mattie Hartford
Tumblr media
SEASONING: chili powder, various strengths, must be used carefully
WEATHER: a thunderstorm with heavy winds that you should've been taking shelter for but instead stood in the middle of the yard watching the sky until you had to sprint inside
COLOR: olive drab, mustard yellow, muddy browns
SKY: high noon sun, cloudless
MAGICAL POWER: teleportation
HOUSE PLANT: prickly pear cactus
WEAPON: anything you can shoot or what's on hand, steer clear when she breaks a bottle
SUBJECT: wood/machine shop, good with her hands
SOCIAL MEDIA: tik tok, snapchat, instagram
MAKEUP PRODUCT: yesterday's eyeliner is today's smoky eye
CANDY: a chocolate bar that's been in your jacket pocket for you don't know how long and it's melted and hardened countless time but you still eat it because chocolate is chocolate
FEAR: being seen as less than, heights
ICE CUBE SHAPE: when you freeze a water bottle and it just started thawing out so you can shake it and make that THUNK THUNK THUNK sound
METHOD OF LONG-DISTANCE TRAVEL: horse
ART STYLE: scratchy, heavy linear texture, dadaism
MYTHOLOGICAL CREATURE: gremlin centaur
PIECE OF STATIONERY: a chewed on pencil
THREE EMOJIS: 🐴🍻💥
CELESTIAL BODY: asteroid field
Andrea Levante da Firenze
Tumblr media
SEASONING: ginger. bold, pungent, and sweet-spicy
WEATHER: autumn warmth, perfect day to anything
COLOR: scarlet, gold, maroon, sunny orange
SKY: a blazing sunrise
MAGICAL POWER: illusion manipulation, can make you believe anything
HOUSE PLANT: daylily, resilient
WEAPON: throwing knives, rapier, looks
SUBJECT: classic literature but also gym
SOCIAL MEDIA: snapchat, instagram, facebook
MAKEUP PRODUCT: 10 step skin routine then the "no makeup look" that requires practically every product ever
CANDY: anything caramel
FEAR: being helpless, also horses
ICE CUBE SHAPE: small cubes
ART STYLE: art nouveau and rococo
MYTHOLOGICAL CREATURE: phoenix
PIECE OF STATIONERY: fountain pen and an impeccable bullet journal
THREE EMOJIS: 💃🗡🦊
CELESTIAL BODY: the sun, this girl burns bright
tagging whoever is interested! Specifically calling out @straight-into-the-animus tho, TELL ME BOUT THOSE TWINKS
11 notes · View notes
mitchamsocialuser · 1 year
Text
Delicious Recipes For Rocket and Pear Salad
Tumblr media
Rocket and pear salad is a classic combination of flavours. This salad from the COOK Food to Share cookbook adds candied pecans to the mix, giving it a delicious crunch. To dress it, combine olive oil, balsamic vinegar, honey, and grain mustard. Refrigerate until serving.
Apple cider vinegar salad dressing
An apple cider vinegar salad dressing is an ideal choice for this salad because it makes the salad light and refreshing. This simple dressing comes together quickly and easily. To make this dressing, simply combine two ingredients, Bragg’s Organic Apple cider vinegar and extra virgin olive oil. Using extra virgin olive oil improves the flavor of the dressing. Once all the ingredients are mixed together, shake well and serve.
You can prepare the dressing a day or two in advance. It can be kept in the refrigerator for three to five days. Be sure to bring the dressing to room temperature before using it, otherwise it will solidify. During this time, you should shake the dressing vigorously.
Pepitas
Pepitas are pumpkin seed kernels that are delicious in salads. In this recipe, they’re used as a substitute for arugula. First, wash pears, core them with a melon baller, or a small spoon. Then, toss them with lemon juice. Meanwhile, prepare arugula. Transfer it to a shallow serving bowl. Toss with vinaigrette. Next, add pears and toasted walnuts. Finally, garnish with Parmesan shavings, if desired.
To make the pepitas in this salad, simply toast them in a skillet, preferably with olive oil. Once roasted, they will pop. Toss with a light coating of salad dressing.
Prosciutto
To make this delicious salad, first make the dressing. You’ll need a vinegar and oil mixture in a screw-top jar, plus salt and pepper. Meanwhile, rip the prosciutto into large pieces. Place it in a large bowl. Add the rocket and pear. Toss with your hands to combine. Then, serve it immediately.
The prosciutto in this salad gives it a salty, caramelized flavor that balances the sweet and bitter elements. The pears also help to balance the bitterness of the arugula. Once the salad has cooled, drizzle the dressing over it. This salad is delicious on its own or with another type of salad.
Blue cheese
Blue cheese and pears go well together, and the crunch from the pears is what makes this salad so great. You can also add some bacon, which will add a great layer of flavor. To make the salad dressing, combine honey, extra-virgin olive oil, and white wine vinegar. Slice the pears thinly with skin on, and toss with the dressing. Add the rocket leaves, blue cheese, and walnuts to the salad, and sprinkle on more dressing if you like.
You can serve this salad as a side dish or as the main course of a meal. You can also substitute other ingredients, such as pecans or walnuts. For an elegant evening, you can serve this salad with a bottle of aged white wine. This salad is best served cold, so try serving it chilled.
Cranberries
This savory salad with pears, feta, walnuts and cranberries is delicious served as a side dish or starter. The mixture of tart cranberries and sweet pears is the perfect combination for a meal. It’s also a great accompaniment to meat or fish.
It’s easy to customize the recipe to add your favorite vegetables, nuts and cheese. You can also use your favorite store-bought dressing. Either way, this salad is sure to be a hit in your family! Whether you’re serving it for lunch or dinner, this salad is sure to please your family.
The rocket leaves (arugula) are a nutritious addition to the salad. They are loaded with calcium and potassium. They are also a good source of vitamin A and vitamin C.
1 note · View note
nikkierway-blog · 1 year
Photo
Tumblr media
If you’ve been unsure and you’ve been sitting on the fence watching, today is the day to start! 🎃 Entry into Oktoberfest with purchase of 1 box 🎁 Entry into a drawing for a free box of "Top Picks" On sale now!!! KREME: Pumpkin spice Caramel macchiato Maple Better toffee NAT: Banana daiquiri Fresa freeze Miami vibes Mojito nights Terry enchanted Fueled by female (grapefruit) Groovy grape Hibiscus lemonade Magic apple Oh mai tai Prickly pear Sno Cone Watermelon Sweets Wild Tiger VIALS: Limonada dulce- lemonade 🍋 Pera dulce- pear🍐 Dulce Agrio- strawberry 🍓 PRO: protein infused ketones that make amazing shakes Chai Nights Lemon shortbread Vanilla Dream Carrot Cake Minty Cream KETO-UP: Kiwi Melon Tangerine Sun BROTH: Spicy Elotes OTHER SPECIALS: Cocktail collection challenge 🛒 New friends: nikkierway.ShopKeto.com/learn 🛒 Returning friends: http://Cloud.justpruvit.com 👉 If you are brand new… I always recommend starting with the Best bundle. It gives you the most bang for your buck! 👉 Don’t forget to grab a box of Mitoplex (our upgraded electrolytes to avoid that nasty Keto flu/ headaches/ leg cramps that so often happens when eating low carb/ keto.) 👉 We also have the 2️⃣4️⃣Fast available that enables you to fast for a short 24 hours only- many do this every Sunday night & start your week off right in an optimized state of autophagy (If I can do it, anyone can!) 👉 Learn more! http://nikkierway.shopketo.com/learn 𝐀𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐓 𝐔𝐏 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐒𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏! This saves you 22% every month AND you get a FREE box every 4th month AND you can switch products, cancel, or switch due dates anytime! BEST DECISION I MADE...Join my team as a promoter and get your ketones for FREE 🎁 nikkierway.shopketo.com/promoter/ Join my group and follow my journey 🥰 https://www.facebook.com/groups/killingitwketo/ Remember, We accept Sezzle! This is a completely interest-free payment plan choice for shoppers! #killingitin2022 #ketones #lifechanger #ketoliving #supportstrongwomen #ketohacks #pruviteveryday #livingmybestlife #showup #consistency #accountability #lowcarbrecipes #ketotips #usa #canada #europe https://www.instagram.com/p/CjIgmTGOoF0/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
0 notes
shannonofthezteam · 3 years
Text
1.15.21 City-center this evening
The kids finished their first full week of in-person school, so we we celebrated at a toy store and McDonald's for dinner. Can you tell that was their idea of fun and not-so-much for John and me?
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
1 note · View note
abramsbooks · 2 years
Photo
Tumblr media
RECIPE: Braised Bison Short Ribs (from New Native Kitchen by Chef Freddie Bitsoie & James O. Fraioli) 
Braised short ribs are one of my favorite comfort foods, so I couldn’t help but include two recipes for them. This heartier, thicker, wintrier version feels a bit more rustic than the Sumac-Braised Ribs earlier in this chapter. These also cook a bit longer to allow for the leaner bison, which sometimes needs more time to tenderize. The easiest place to find bone-in bison ribs is from your local butcher. You may have to pre-order, but the wait will be well worth it. In early Indigenous recipes, centuries before stovetop searing and oven slow-cooking were possible, this would’ve been a stewed meat recipe. But braising is now as common a technique in Native American households as anywhere else; and after the first time you make these ribs, you’ll know why.
¼ cup (60 ml) canola oil
8 bone-in bison (or beef) short ribs, about
7 pounds (3.4 kg)
2 cups (250 g) all-purpose flour
1 medium onion, peeled and diced
2 carrots, diced
2 stalks celery, diced
5 sprigs fresh thyme
2 bay leaves
2 cloves garlic, peeled and minced
2 teaspoons salt
2 teaspoons freshly cracked black pepper
3 tablespoons tomato paste
2 cups (480 ml) dry red wine, optional
2 quarts (2 L) beef stock, or more as needed
Preheat the oven to 350°F (175°C).
In a Dutch oven over high heat, add the oil. While the oil is heating, dredge the beef in the flour, shaking off the excess. Add the ribs to the hot oil. Sear all sides of the meat. Once browned, remove, and set aside. Reduce the heat to low and add the onion, carrots, celery, thyme, bay leaves, garlic, salt, and pepper. Sweat the vegetables until the onions are soft and begin to caramelize, about 10 minutes.
Clear a space in the middle of the vegetables and add the tomato paste directly to the hot surface of the pot. Allow the paste to brown and form a crust (takes about 2 minutes; be careful not to burn the paste). Then add the wine (if using) to deglaze the pot and stir so the paste is incorporated into the vegetables. Allow the wine to evaporate completely. If you’re not using the wine, deglaze the pot with some of the beef stock, scraping up any bits stuck to bottom of pot. Add the beef stock to the pot, ensuring the vegetables are just covered. Add more stock if necessary. Return the seared ribs to the pot. Increase the heat to high and bring to a boil. Once boiling, remove from the heat, cover, and place in the preheated oven. Braise for 2½ hours.
After 2½ hours, remove the ribs from the sauce and set aside. Remove the thyme sprigs and bay leaves and transfer the contents of the pot to a blender (caution: the liquid will be hot). Puree for 5 minutes or until smooth. Return the blended contents back to the pot and add the ribs. Return to medium heat and let the sauce and ribs reheat. Adjust the seasoning, if necessary, and serve immediately once the ribs and sauce are hot.
Tumblr media
Modern Indigenous cuisine from the renowned Native foods educator and former chef of Mitsitam Native Foods Café at the Smithsonian’s National Museum of the American Indian
From Freddie Bitsoie, the former executive chef at Mitsitam Native Foods Café at the Smithsonian’s National Museum of the American Indian, and James Beard Award–winning author James O. Fraioli, New Native Kitchen is a celebration of Indigenous cuisine. Accompanied by original artwork by Gabriella Trujillo and offering delicious dishes like Cherrystone Clam Soup from the Northeastern Wampanoag and Spice-Rubbed Pork Tenderloin from the Pueblo peoples, Bitsoie showcases the variety of flavor and culinary history on offer from coast to coast, providing modern interpretations of 100 recipes that have long fed this country.
Recipes like Chocolate Bison Chili, Prickly Pear Sweet Pork Chops, and Sumac Seared Trout with Onion and Bacon Sauce combine the old with the new, holding fast to traditions while also experimenting with modern methods. In this essential cookbook, Bitsoie shares his expertise and culinary insights into Native American cooking and suggests new approaches for every home cook. With recipes as varied as the peoples that inspired them, New Native Kitchen celebrates the Indigenous heritage of American cuisine.
For more information, click here.
86 notes · View notes
radiosandrecordings · 3 years
Text
Fuck it, apparently it’s Milk Talk Day here on this blog so I’m going to use this as an opportunity to talk about my least favourite product to ever exist, something I can find almost no evidence for asides from a single wikiepdia entry.
One of if not the most popular brands of milkshake in the UK is called Crusha. This is a liquid syrup you buy in bottles and then just mix in with regular milk. It’s most popular flavours, and also the original four, were your classic strawberry (crusha strawberry phenomenal god tier mwah love it), chocolate, raspberry and banana. 
Over the years they’ve added cookies and cream (Gross don’t buy it), as well as, for some god forsaken reason, lime. Lime flavoured milk. I don’t know what sick bastard came up with that, but I hope they never sleep again. But that’s not the worst of it folks! Crusha, over the years, have had a series of... Now retired, limited run flavours. 
Some of these sound pretty good! Toffee, caramel, vanilla ice cream, white chocolate, some classic milk shake flavours going on there. But that’s where things start to go a little off the rails. Cherry & Vanilla. Apple & Blackcurrant. Black cherry. Pineapple. Lemon. Hey Paul Kenword, managing director of British Sugar, parent organisation of the Silver Spoon company, which in 2001 took control of the Crusha brand? Why in all imaginable hells did you let this happen. You couldn’t even stop at lime! You had to go the full citrus gambit and throw in a lemon too! What’s to stop me from buying both, huh? From mixing those sick syrups together with the moo juice and sticking the unholy union in a soda stream until I created the bastard homunculus child of sprite? Only the fact that they were, quite possibly, never even sold at the same time! Wikipedia won’t tell me and your website refuses to acknowledge them, crusha! Look your miserable children in the face and acknowledge them as your own sins! You Cretan King  of a company, how are you better than Minos, who cast his son into the labyrinth? A young pineapple milk arrives, you use it for profit, before turning your face from it like it wasn’t the fruit of your own labour? For shame!  You tried to kill and revive lime milk four times in it’s lifespan, it was being sold as recently as 2020! 
But that’s not even the one that truly gets me. Oh no. The real one that makes me go “Dear god, what is this abomination”, that tesco sold syrup that causes me to recoil in horror.... Well there’s not even any real evidence for it online, save a single bullet point on wikipedia. Good riddance, too, it’s almost too unbearable to speak of. But I believe in warning you of it’s monstrosity, dear reader, so continue on if ye be brave of heart. For a limited run in May 2005, Crusha introduced... Deep breaths man, deep breaths, face your fears.... “Wild’n’Fruity Milk”. 
I have not stylised that myself. That’s how it’s written in the Wikipedia entry. “Wild’n’Fruity Milk”.
What the fuck. 
What does that even entail. Googling it won’t even provide me with a picture of the bottle! It’s trying to protect me from this horror! What fruit does one add? And what makes it ‘wild’??? Does the existence of a wild, fruity milk imply the existence of it’s genetic cousin, the domesticated docile fruity milk? Why is it written like that! It’s not even trying to convey it’s flavouring, just that it’s hip with the kids because writing out the entirety of ‘and’ is for nerds, am I right fellow 2005 teens? ‘Wild’ in UK terms might imply some kind of exotic qualities to the fruit, but also, it’s really not hard to convince people of that so it could just as well be strawberry and blackcurrant, with like, pear or something thrown in for good measure. 
I like to think that it still exists out there. Somewhere. Maybe in a storage vault, supplies of easily preservable goods sealed away in case it’s ever needed. Waiting. Growing in power. Seething. Knowing one day it will be freed of it’s constraints, and it will finally fulfil the promises it makes to me every recurring nightmare I have of it’s perverse, sickly sweet content. 
208 notes · View notes
itsmoonphobic · 3 years
Text
Dream SMP characters and my interpretation of them:
-Techno: The smell of Dirt and soil,blood,wine and old books. Silk pillowcases,golden jewelry,mosaics,stained fingertips, grand staircases,scented candles,storyteller,lazy smiles, secretive,slow dancing,sad resting face,elegant language,cold weather,confident,doubts himself,philosophy, messy braids,glowdust flakes, poetry,graceful movements,neat and cursive handwriting, greek mythology, oriental music,pale skin,libraries,sarcasm, long-lasting friendships,quotes,frosted windows,layering clothes, know-it-all,rude but endearing,pile of papers,cherry blossoms,muted colors,overthinks everything,devotion,logical thinking,insomniac,scattered mind,castle walls,laid back,tired eyes,long debates,show over tell,lingering touches,rulebreaker, dirty palms,old movies freezing feet,old habits,late nights studying,early riser,skips meals,eye bags,tea with milk,velvet jackets,dimly lit by streetlights,ancient wood floors,flowy curtains,art museums, gravely morning voice,echos in the middle of nowhere,sleepy whispers,nostalgia everywhere,red lipstick stains,loves animal more than people,calm and quiet, healing stones,parked car conversations,sharp jaw,obsessed with memes,violins,doves, doves,floats instead of walks,unbroken promises,twisting and winding hair around fingers,nail biting, repeating phrases,mist secret scars,rumors,always wearing earphones,metaphorical, emotions fragile as a flower, speaks with his eyes,fluttery eyelashes,dog lover,forehead kisses,calligraphy,pretty knives,cares too much,lopsided grins,messy desks,talks for hours no,rolling his eyes all the time,powerful strides,wants to conquer the world,slender hands,good grades, dusty book covers,wax stamped envelopes,vintage mirrors
-Phil: The smell of cold air,pine trees and sandalwood.Dead birds and mothballs,stops on the sidewalk to make sure nobody is left behind,morning person,herbal teas,crows,eats breakfast outside,constellations,family portraits on walls, chirping and whistling,crime documentaries,cool father figure, graveyards,weeping angels,meteor shower,many friends but only a single close one,contagious laugh,fragile teacups,fog, early mornings,fuzzy blankets,springs of thyme,bare feet, empty streets,rosemary stems,flickering lanterns,burnt wood bowls,feather collector,antique silverware,a sky full of stars, skylights,torn pages,overstuffed bookshelves,makes you feel comfortable whenever you talk to him,organized,full of ideas, believes in magic,gives the best advice,lost in his own way, warm hugs,scrapbooks and bullet journals,old cars,soft features,daydreaming,bright eyes,getting lost in the woods,moonlight,self knitted sweaters, stargazing on tailgates,the universe,hand in hand with wandering hearts, garage sales,questioning life but feeling at peace,attic bedrooms and haylofts,pursuing science and desiring art, photo albums,hopeless romantic,dark chocolate,open windows and quirky morning rituals,actually knows what brunch is, succulents,a kind-hearted loner,free-spirit,plaid button-ups, always ready to let you rant,abandons projects quickly, complicated past,bold moves,goes with the flow,aims for things that seem unachievable,lives in extremes,knowing smiles,constantly busy with something new,soft touches,love at first sight,naps alot,subsequent tea stains,sparkly eyes, abandoned barns,handwritten notes,feather quills,fascination with the sky,whispering secrets to the wind,great with kids, takes a backpack everywhere,hugs trees,big winter coats,road trips,knows tons of medical info,bites his nails,comforting presence,lost souls,city lights from a high rise
-Wilbur: The smell of fire,smoke,caramel and coffee. Stands up for people who can't for themselves,emotional wreck,loves his family too much but still yells at them,soft turtlenecks,sits in different spots every time he eats dinner,chipped nailpolish, songwriter,probably depressed,wakes up in the middle of the night to write down random thoughts,heartbroken teenager songs,dark psychology and deep meanings,globes and maps, wants to travel and make lots of memories,curls of steam, earbuds in,spattered ink,good singer,keeps to himself,old music and dusty vinyl,the type of person that you could stare at for hours,loud laugh,ride or die,dreams about his future, believes in fresh starts and new beginnings, messy and tangled hair,summer nights,soft features,deep thinker and dimples, having crushes,musicals and theater, half finished diaries and laptop stickers,mixtapes,quirky love notes, secretly kinda insane,always ready for coffee,thrift shops, beachy waves, bonfires,probably drives too fast,cutoff jeans, cream and sugar,nude colors,always creating new problems for himself, fights for equality,long debates and tired eyes, tapping a rhythm and humming quietly,spends all his time on social media,beanie galore,trench coats,foggy glasses,cozy sweaters, dancing around his room to the Beatles,looking out the window when the sun is setting,birkenstocks,guitar strumming on a warm summer evening,bells and chimes,subtle sadness, the feeling of diving into a deep pool,perfect proportions,too many playlists,holding hands,pretty boy,sew on patches and bomber jackets,candid photos,warm sun on bare skin,dancing silhouettes on the sunsets,beach walks at midnight,messy but cozy room,different mood every minute,singing his favorite song at the top of his lungs,sharp grins,haunted houses, paranormal stuff,late night snack runs with friends,explores creeks and lakes,double checks everything he does,walking through hot sand,backyard campfires,acoustic songs,photo booths,train platforms at night,s'mores,sun bleached arbors
-Tommy: The smell of plastic,fresh cut grass and musk. Does the bare minimum at School,unless genuinely interested in a topic,doodles on the side of his paper,movie marathons,empty coca cola bottles everywhere,rope swings,glossy nailpolish,lots of energy,life of the party, kidcore ,can always make you laugh,loves photography,eyestrain and bright colors,bruised knees and untied shoelaces,paperballs in class,brand new red converse,denim jackets,pins and clips,chalk drawings in the middle of the road,every text contains emojis, garden sprinklers,graffiti,wreck this journal,vibrant dyed hair, scribbles and highlighter pens,carnivals,involed in many things, watermelon flavored anything,loves to climb trees,screaming on playgrounds,oversized t-shirts,stained glass windows, anklets,skateboards and hula hoops,milkshakes on the front porch,social butterfly,always in a hurry,pinkie promises,tangled headphones,melted crayons and gummy bears,bean bags and hummingbirds,spinning around till he gets dizzy,chaotic and crazy yet so fun to be around,rushing into things too quickly, roller coasters and derbies,doesn't get knocked back by criticism,cans of fizzy drinks and neon lights,skips school,tye dye shirts and nitendo games,impulse and class clown,sticks stickers on stranger's things,pickpockets his close friends,has to carry a walkie-talkie around with him at all times,sleepovers and sneaking out through windows,pockets full of change and random buttons,stands out in crowds and makes friends easily, pretends to be fearless but is scared of the littlest things,trips and rips his jeans daily,uno cards,social butterfly,music discs, fights with his family but would actually kill for them,broken handwriting,flannels and jerseys around his waist
-Tubbo: The smell of honey,fresh bread and citrus. Lowkey soft, hugging a teddy bear,pressed flowers,eats alot of bread,big hoodies,fairy lights and blanket forts,prank calls while holding in your laughter,beeswax candles,sidewalk dandelions,gentle cuddles on the couch,pastel yellow and cute doodles,flower crowns and diasy chains,plays the ukulele,fascinated by bees and supports local coffee shops,outdoorsy sunshine addict, sparklers and iced lemonade,festivals with fireworks and fireflies in mason jars,homework done as soon as its assigned, watercolor paintings,giggling uncontrollably,long hugs and lazy cartoon afternoons,park dates and forehead kisses,cutting pants into shorts,messy wild hair and pear lollipops,has tiny random braids decorated with golden yarn,hearing the crinkle of leaves underfoot,suprise piggy back rides,adult swim shows and lip gloss stains,being goofy without meaning to,bounces in his step and stops to pet stray animals,baked bread and washi tape bracelets,bike rides and summer picnics,rolling down a hill in the spring and bringing home grass stains on his jeans, waving at someone across a crowded room,spontaneous hang outs and self made clay rings,sitting in the warm sunlit grass on early spring mornings,rock painting and hiding them for other people to find,picking apples from trees but needing to be held up in order to reach one
-Ranboo: The smell of peppermint tea,denim and rain. Is there for everyone but never themselves,regrets things they said but can never find the nerves to apologize,clumps of mascara and winged eyeliner,writes down every tiny thing in notebooks, loves children and their friends,forgetting that they already grabbed a waterbottle,drawing on condensation windows,rainy days and puddles,always on the edge of a breakdown,elevator music and long limbs,old tape recordings and cassettes,moss covered ruins and greenhouses,wanting to be in multiple places at the same time,different colored socks,long hugs and head pats,reading under the covers,collages and spray paint,record players and walks alone through the woods,loves playing by creeks and collecting stones,always wondering and worrying about things they shouldn't,vivid dreams and leather jackets, silver necklaces and piercings,snoozing their alarm clock, seeing the moon in the early morning,blurry photographs and windswept hair,downpours and comfortable silence,wrapping gifts and handing them over with shaking hands,sitting on a rooftop and spontaneous plans,lofi sounds and long train roads,deja vu moments,randomly dissapears and sipping tea, cold concrete and city parks,tickets and brochures from places they visited,dusty parchment and desperately trying to be a good person,wikipedia articles and lace-up boots,often loses track of time while talking to people they love,sings to the radio and avoids conflict if possible,can't sit still for five minutes, perpetually in an emo phase and knows more than they let on, hawaiian shirts,henna tattoos and sparkling water,sleeping in complete darkness and the relief of falling into bed,midnight thunderstorms and anticipation for the coming day,lucky charms and the sound of rain hitting the windows
-Dream: The smell of apples,eucalyptus,vanilla and green tea. Freckles and smiley faces,glow sticks and wrinkled linen, probably a really good singer,wild laughter and jellyfish, popular,tanned skin and cruising with the top down,doesn't take shit from anyone,analytical and self assured,beachy waves and dreamy sunsets,running barefoot,likes being active and on the go at all times,sassy and dramatic as fuck,dream catchers and hammocks,glow in the dark stickers on his phonecase, feisty and a sense of danger,brought home stray cats when he was a child,falling in love with strangers,waking up early and continue laying on the bed,golden hours and 4pm naps,soft aching hands burried in messy hair,center of attention,static and heavy breathing,old percy jackson books under the bed, throwing pebbles at the closed windows of his friends' room, retro diners at 2am,adrenaline junkie and nighttime thriver,will go insane if cooped up indoors for too long,deadlines till last minute,oversleeping and coming home past midnight,naturally a really good surfer,hugs from behind and neck kisses,checking the fridge at 1am,ice cream in bed and cat cuddles,always picks up over facetime
Might make more parts for some of the other guys :)
36 notes · View notes
hawkbucks · 4 years
Note
LISTEN if you do the language barrier muses from that royal au prompt thingy for buckytony (tony as muse b and bucky as a or whatever you prefer) i will love you FOREVER (i already do but let's pretend that the offer is still somewhat fair)
Thank you for requesting, and I hope this is what you wanted ;; I don’t think I followed the prompt exactly aljadkad ;; 
Tumblr media
James hasn’t attended a single of his language lessons ever since they started a couple of weeks ago. Oh, his tutor has chased him plenty, but he’s always found a way to slink around them. It’s petty, the sort of behavior unbecoming of the Crown Prince (and it’s rather embarrassing and childish, so says his dear sister Rebecca), but James can’t find it in himself to care. His parents certainly didn’t seem to care about his feelings before they decided to marry him off to some prince from the South. His parents certainly didn’t seem to care about his opinion on the matter. His parents certainly didn’t seem to care that he’s a person--their son--and not some pawn in their game of political chess. 
They didn’t care about him, so he’s not about to care about this little scheme of theirs. If petty is how he’s feeling, then petty is what everyone is going to get. He’s not above that.
(Pity briefly surges through his chest. Is it fair of him to punish someone who’s barely an accomplice in this crime? It is a betrothal. He’s willing to bet that the other prince had as much say in this as he had--which is, to say, none at all.)
He slouches over in his chair, sighing. 
Tumblr media
“James,” his mother, Queen Winnifred, calls out. She grips his wrist as he tries to slip past. “Sir McKenzie has been telling me that you haven’t been attending your lessons. How can you expect to communicate with Prince Anthony? He arrives in a couple of days.” 
“I would prefer to not communicate with him,” James answers coolly. “In fact, I would prefer that we not go through this marriage at all.” 
She squeezes his wrist in warning. “I will not have you bring shame to this family because you want to shirk your duties.”
James opens his mouth to respond, but then closes it at the blaze that starts up in his mother’s eyes, making it more than clear that she’s not in the mood for James’ excuse-making and back-talking. 
“The Starks are sending their only son thousands of miles across the heartland because they need this alliance. They can’t even attend their own son’s wedding because Maria easily takes ill.” James tries to look away. She tugs, forcing him to look back. “This is going to be a trying time for him. The least you could do is provide him some familiarity.” 
Hot shame courses through James’ body, but he made up his mind the second you’re betrothed left his father’s lips. He removes his hand from his mother’s grip and summons every last drop of his courage. “Perhaps you all should have thought about that before arranging this entire affair.” 
An uneasy, thick silence falls between them. His mother looks stunned. He can tell that she’s wondering what happened to the compassionate boy that she helped raise.
His throat clicks as he swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing. Mechanically, he turns on his heel and walks away, his mother’s gaze burning holes into his back. 
Tumblr media
His sister says nothing to him as she drags him to every single one of his lessons. Two days is barely enough time for him to learn how to introduce himself, much less become conversational. However, that doesn’t stop his tutor from trying. 
They sit him down in a less than comfortable chair at a years-old desk stained by ink and rings of that coffee drink his mother is so fond of. Scrolls are unraveled in front of him, one half filled with words and phrases that he can read, the other half dominated by characters he finds foreign. 
They say he has to stay. 
They never say he has to pay attention. 
Tumblr media
Prince Anthony arrives as the short-lived sun starts to set, staining the gate in front of the castle in pinks and oranges. 
James plasters on a fake smile--he might not be thrilled about this entire arrangement, but he supposes that he could at least let the Prince feel like he’s welcome. Well, he thinks as he presses a quick kiss to the back of Prince Anthony’s hand, at least he’s pretty. He links both of their arms together as he leads the Prince into the courtyard. 
Prince Anthony looks at him and says something in his own tongue, delicate and soft, a contrast against the rough and warm tones of James’ own language. 
James’ smile falters, and he shakes his head, making a looping motion with one of his fingers near his ear. I can’t understand you.
Prince Anthony’s brows furrow, a frown forming on his face. He says something over his shoulder to someone, adding something extra in the beginning--presumably a request to translate--before repeating what he said to James. 
That someone that Prince Anthony was talking to hurries over. They’re a portly man, but the broadness of their shoulders betrays any hidden underlaying muscle. “His Highness would like to know if he is to sleep with you in your quarters tonight,” they translate, “or if he is to wait until after the wedding.” 
“Pardon?” James’ mouth goes dry. He isn’t sure if Prince Anthony means sleep or if he means… sleep. 
Prince Anthony says something, cheeks slightly flushed, probably after taking in the half confused, half shocked look on James’ face. 
The man nods. “His Highness meant it to be purely the two of you sharing a bed. He apologizes if any of his wording made him seem crass.”
“Oh.” James blinks. “After the wedding.” 
The man relays that to Prince Anthony, who simply hums thoughtfully. 
Tumblr media
James barely gets more than a glimpse of Prince Anthony as he’s caught in the hustle and bustle of everyone in the castle moving around to get ready for the wedding. He’s forced into coat after coat, the seamstresses hemming and hawing and sometimes accidentally pricking him with their needles. He wonders why they couldn’t have just done this before. 
From what he sees, Prince Anthony’s garments have the intricate, looping embroidery on them that’s indicative of the South. The sleeves are long, with two pieces of loose fabric acting as some sort of flaps that connect from his shoulders to his wrists. 
James’ father, King George, stops by to give him the sash that he wore when he married Winnifred. 
James doesn’t think he deserves it. 
Tumblr media
They don’t kiss during the ceremony, thankfully. 
James’ simply feeds Prince Anthony the first bite of a freshly baked bread roll, while Prince Anthony spoons beef broth into James’ mouth. The priest--who James recognizes as the man Prince Anthony enlisted the translation services of when they first met--says a few words in both James’ and Prince Anthony’s tongues, and just like that, they’re married. 
Prince Anthony is the man that James is supposed to be spending the rest of his life with, whether either of them likes it or not. 
As his golden circlet is replaced by a silver crown, rubies glittering underneath the sunlight pouring in through the windows, Prince Anthony mutters something underneath his breath, eyes closing.
James doesn’t understand what he’s saying, but he recognizes the cadence of the Common Prayer. 
Tumblr media
Prince Anthony tugs on the sleeve of James’ shirt and points at the cake sitting a foot away from them, decorated with apples and pears. Melted chocolate and caramel are drizzled across the top, criss-crossing over the other. “Is swit?” Prince Anthony asks. 
James tilts his head to the side. 
“Swit. Swit,” Prince Anthony repeats. “Sweet?” 
“Oh.” James’ eyebrows quirk up. He lifts himself out of the seat and reaches over, bringing the cake to their side. “Do you…” he points at the cake, then at Prince Anthony, then he mimes eating, a cupped hand underneath his mouth while the other pretends to be forking something in. 
Prince Anthony nods. 
James snaps his fingers, and a servant comes scurrying. 
Tumblr media
The both of them are called forward to share a dance in front of the crowd. Queen Winnifred sends James a look that promises repercussions if he tries to weasel his way out of it. 
With a sigh, he gets out of his seat and offers his hand to Prince Anthony, who takes it with nervousness in his eyes. James supposes that Prince Anthony doesn’t need to understand his language to know when he’s to be no more than a performing monkey for a couple of minutes.
“Sorry,” Prince Anthony whispers when he accidentally steps on James’ toes.
At least he knows that.
Tumblr media
Back in their quarters, it comes to James’ attention that Prince Anthony’s sleeping wear is rather unsuited for the kind of weather up in the North. Compared to James’ own heavy cotton garments, Prince Anthony’s breezy, light linens are pathetic. He sees the way Prince Anthony shivers and his mind immediately goes to how cold he must have been the past few days. The South is known for its warm climate, and the North… well, there’s a reason why James’ father is regarded as the Winter King. 
It’s going to be impossible for James to continue not learning Prince Anthony’s language if he keeps feeling sorry for him. Lord. 
“Cold?” he questions, mimicking Prince Anthony’s shiver.
Prince Anthony nods, looking remarkably shy about it all. 
James heads to the chest in his room that stores the fur blanket that he usually saves for the especially cold nights in the dead of winter when his breath is visible and the lake in their garden freezes over. He fishes it out and offers it to Prince Anthony, who takes it with a grateful smile. 
Prince Anthony tosses it on the bed and spreads it out. He places a hand on his chest. “Tony,” he says. “Say me ‘Tony’.” 
“Tony,” James repeats. The name rolls off of his tongue easily. 
Tony walks over and puts a hand on James’ chest. “James.” 
James nods weakly as he desperately tries to tamp down the flush rising up his neck. 
“James,” Tony says again, voice ringing like a bell. 
Tumblr media
James wakes up to the feeling of someone’s head on his chest. When they fell asleep, he made sure to put as much space in between the two of them as possible (and it really wasn’t hard considering how large his bed is), but they must have gravitated towards each other anyhow. 
At least Tony has an excuse in the fact that he’s unused to Northern weather and unconsciously sought out warmth from any source. What’s James’ excuse? 
He isn’t sure what to do. He could try and move, but… he can’t find it in his heart to possibly wake Tony up.
Tony starts to move, and James lets out a sigh of relief, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms. 
“Food?” Tony asks, tilting his head upwards to look at James. “Morning-food? Hungry, I want...” his face screws up in concentration. 
“Breakfast.” James fills in after a moment’s hesitation. 
“Breakfast!” Tony’s accent is off, but James can tell he’s doing his best. 
Tumblr media
So, here’s the thing: James feels like an asshole. 
Tony’s trying to connect with him despite the language barrier, and that’s more than what James can say. 
He’s still miffed about the entire betrothal thing, but he doesn’t feel like his little act of rebellion is worth it. Tony’s still struggling with his language, while James hasn’t even made an effort to learn Tony’s. He should be the one fumbling over his words, trying to get Tony to like him. 
Plus, he’ll admit that Tony… has grown on him. It takes real courage to venture all the way across the heartland to get married to someone you don’t know because your kingdom is in desperate need for power. He wonders if Tony had many friends back in the South, if he thinks about them at night, if he had any pets. He uprooted his entire life coming up to the North, and James…
James can’t even fucking say hello to him. 
Tony places a plate in front of James, snapping him out of his thoughts. On the plate lies a single cinnamon roll, looking beautifully fluffy with its dark brown swirl in the middle, creamy frosting on top. “Made for you,” Tony chirps.
Yeah. James feels like a real asshole. 
Tumblr media
James walks in on Tony in the library, face buried in a pillow as he sits on a lounge chair. He assumes that it’s just an extreme reaction to a book that Tony’s reading (although he was unaware that they had books in Tony’s language in the first place--perhaps he brought some from home?) before he realizes that Tony’s shoulders are shaking and all of his breaths sound suspiciously like sobs. 
“Oh, oh, hey,” James says as soothingly as possible, bending himself at the knee until he’s at the same height as Tony. What if Tony is feeling ill but he was hiding it? What if Tony got hurt? What if Tony simply isn’t having a good day? James honestly thinks the least he could do is check in on him. “Okay?” 
Tony removes his face from the pillow. His eyes are rimmed with red, tear tracks shining on his cheeks. His nose is flushed a light pink. “Book made me--” he hiccups-- “sad.” 
“The book made you… sad?” Ah. So, it was just a reaction to the book. Still, he can’t leave Tony like this, can he? “Hug?” 
Tony sniffles as a crease appears between his brows. “Hug?” he repeats sluggishly. 
James blinks. He’s not too sure how to explain what hug refers to. He’s confident that there’s a corresponding word in Tony’s language, but he doesn’t really know it now does he? He runs a couple mental calculations, minutely shrugs, then goes in for the hug. 
Tony inhales quickly, unsure of what to do, and James thinks that he must have botched this big time. 
Then, Tony is hugging him back, burying his face in the crook of James’ neck.
Warmth spreads throughout James’ chest. 
Tumblr media
“Flowers,” James says as he gives Tony a small bouquet of hellebores. They just reminded him of Tony, and, no, he doesn’t know why. He does know that he’s grateful that they grow some in the royal gardens, though. “For you.” 
Tony perks up as he accepts James’ gift. “Flowers. Pretty,” he coos. He separates one from the rest and tucks it behind James’ right ear. “For you.” 
“You’re prettier,” James breathes out. He’s not sure if Tony’s able to understand that, but Tony’s smile grows wider.
Tumblr media
Winnifred pulls James to the side, curtsying to Tony when he looks at her in confusion. “Anthony has been taking lessons with Sir McKenzie almost everyday while you’re out there fencing with Steven,” she quietly chides, eyes flickering over to Tony. “When are you going to do the same? It’s not fair for him to cater to you the entire time you both speak. There should be equal effort on both sides.”
“I know some words,” James replies. 
Winnifred raises an eyebrow.
James deflates. “I’ll think about it.”
“Think quickly.” 
Tumblr media
Sir McKenzie gives him a knowing smirk.
James rolls his eyes.
Tumblr media
Tony looks all around him, eyes wide in awe. His hands form cups, small mounds of snow forming in each hand over time. “Wow,” he mouths. “This is snow?” he questions aloud. He’s been getting better and better at the Northern tongue as the days pass, although his accent is still rather glaring. “Only read about in books. Never seen.” 
“Do you like it?” 
Tony nods enthusiastically. “Very like it!” then, he smiles sheepishly. “But very cold.” 
“Do you want a hug?” 
Tony bounds over to him and jumps into his arms.
Tumblr media
James recites what he’s going to say over and over in the mirror.
Tumblr media
He’s there when Tony starts waking up with a bowl full of steaming oatmeal flavored with cinnamon and brown sugar, plus a plate of apple slices and a dish of honey for Tony to dip them in. “Good morning,” he says in Tony’s language. 
Tony catapults up into a sitting position, staring at James. His mouth starts moving at a mile a minute and the only thing James can understand is speaking and nice. Halfway through, Tony stops himself as if suddenly realizing that James… doesn’t really know what he’s saying. “Sorry. Very happy,” he explains, switching back to James’ language. 
Now, James could continue talking in his native tongue, or he could try to flex what he’s learned. The choice is obvious. “Okay. You are cute.” He feels his mouth turn cotton-y at the last word. Tony is indeed very cute, but to say it to him in his language makes it sound different--feel different. “I like you…” Goddamn it, he practiced for this. “...much?”
Tony claps his hands in delight. “I really like you,” he returns in James’ language and leans forward to kiss James on the cheek.
112 notes · View notes
nwbeerguide · 2 years
Text
Tavour shares their top 20 beers if 2021
Press Release
The Highest Rated Tavour Beers of 2021
As we wrap up another delicious year in craft beer, let’s look back at beer geeks’ favorites from independent craft breweries! Here are the Top 20 highest member-rated brews featured by the app-based bottle shop Tavour in 2021: 
#20. pFriem Family Brewers - Japanese Lager - Rated 4.30
Oregon’s premier brewers infused ingenuity with classic methods in this exemplary light style. Made with jasmine rice and using traditional Japanese brewing techniques, the beer pours with a lovely, frothy head. 
Perle, Saaz, and Celeia Hops flourish with elegantly floral flavors. A satisfying maltiness comes through on the forefront, complimented by the rice’s hint of plum and shiso on the backend. Every taste is exceptionally crisp and surprisingly complex. 
#19. Other Half Brewing Co. - Broccoli Special Reserve Imperial IPA - Rated 4.31 
To craft this ultra-juicy hopbomb, the Other Half crew pummeled their full-bodied oat and wheat base with Citra, Mosaic, Simcoe, and Hallertau Blanc Hops! 
As fans say, the result is “the perfect crusher for a warm day.” Each sip floods the palate with orange and grapefruit upfront, before mellowing into ripe peach and whispers of succulent pineapple. Coniferous resin comes in on the finish to punctuate it all with nice hop bitterness.
#18. Toppling Goliath Brewing Co. - Pseudo Sue American Pale Ale - Rated 4.31
Make no mistake, the hype around Pseudo Sue is very real. Fans love this hopped-up Pale Ale that drinks like a full-fledged Imperial IPA!
If you've tasted Sue's 100% Citra-hopped profile — overflowing with ridiculously tasty notes of mango, passionfruit, and drippy orange — you know this to be true. 
#17. Elder Pine Brewing & Blending - Leveler Amber Ale - Rated: 4.34 
August Burns Red’s album Leveler is a persevering piece of metalcore mastery, and 2021 marks 10 years since its release! So, the crew at Elder Pine brewed this malty, hoppy Red Ale in honor of that anniversary. 
Leveler Red Ale is as big and bold as a breakdown at the outro — Simcoe and Columbus Hops headline citrusy flavors with piney and floral aromatics. A supporting cast of Golden Oats and Biscuit Rye add malty honey flavors that hold up the screaming guitar solo of nectarous hop juice.
#16. Side Project Brewing - Dry Hopped Grisette - Rated 4.35 
To craft their luxuriously hoppy Grisette, the brewers at Side Project started with an Ale fermented with wild yeasts, and aged it in a Missouri Oak Foeder for several months. Then, they gently dry-hopped the brew with New Zealand Pacifica and Slovenian Styrian Golding Hops before naturally conditioning it in the bottle.
Each sip flows with bright farmhouse tang, lightly tart lemon, and soft pear accented by vibrant floral, zesty orange, and herbaceous spice notes introduced by the hops. An effervescent body and scintillating, dry finish make each taste that much more invigorating.
#15. Adroit Theory Brewing - All That I Have Learned [Maple Whiskey Barrel Aged Stout] (Ghost 987) - Rated 4.39 
This isn’t any ol’ dark brew. Adroit aged the entire batch in William Larue Weller barrels that previously stashed rich, thick, maple syrup! 
These are some of the best bourbon barrels on the market, and they lend light toffee and vanilla notes that compliment the chocolate, marshmallow, and coffee complexity already swirling in the base brew. Molasses and caramel come through from the decadent maple syrup. 
#14. Anchorage Brewing - Wake the Others Imperial IPA - Rated 4.41  
Anchorage amped up this behemoth with an Alaska-sized helping of Citra, Galaxy, and Mosaic Hops. This TIPA practically packs triple the flavor: tangy orange, succulent mandarin, and tart grapefruit with drops of drippy mango and luscious pineapple. And it’s all wrapped in a dangerously drinkable 10% ABV body.
#13. Great Notion Brewing - Double Berry Shake Fruited Sour - Rated 4.42 
Overflowing with scrumptious fruit and creamy vanilla, the Fruited Sour style is where this rising Pacific Northwest powerhouse really dominates.
Double Berry Shake is proof! The brewers “saturated” this sumptuous Fruited Sour with local, Oregon-grown marionberries for waves of jammy juice and rich earthiness. A mild tartness from the fruit rounds out every vivid, reddish-purple sip, punctuated with the vanilla’s lusciously sweet notes. Perhaps most remarkable of all – this brew sips silky and thick like a shake, but it contains no lactose!
#12. Drekker Brewing Co. - Revenge of the Hippies Imperial NEIPA - Rated 4.45 
This groovy batch of hopjuice comes loaded with Mosaic, Citra, Azacca, and — for the first time — Mosaic Spectrum hop extract for a flavor that’s way dank and mellow, man.
The hop strains bring tropical fruit flavors like pineapple, mango, and tangerine, and the hop extract gives extra groovy, piney resin taste while keeping the body oh-so-smooth. 
#11. Prairie Artisan Ales - Bourbon Barrel Aged Weekend Imperial Stout - Rated 4.48 
This boozy beauty tastes just like a melty, gooey, freshly-smooshed s’more, but with an extra decadent sprinkle of coconut and a drizzle of caramel. That’s because Prairie loaded it with creamy marshmallow, rich caramel, fudgy cacao nibs, and toasted coconut! 
Each gulp offers mellow warmth and a sweet vanilla finish, thanks to bourbon barrel aging — no campfire required. 
#10. Casey Brewing & Blending - Funky Blender Blackberry -  Rated 4.50 
To craft their Funky Blender beers, the brewers at Casey start with their complex wine barrel-aged Farmhouse base, and add massive amounts of locally-grown fruits!
This berry brew comes packed with an astonishing 3 lbs of blackberries per gallon for waves of jammy nectar and a late addition of Cascade Hops for complex floral and citrus notes. 
#9. Cycle Brewing - Sunday (2021) Barrel Aged Barleywine - Rated 4.53 
Cycle aged this exquisite Barleywine in bourbon barrels for 30 months, so each velvety sip sings with rich, whiskey-laced flavor.
It opens with the scent of decadent bruléed sugar, then wraps the tongue in notes of chocolate covered strawberries. Waves of caramelized toffee and sumptuous, roasty malt swim throughout its silky body, culminating in a clean and satisfying finish.
#8. Fremont Brewing - The Rusty Nail (2021) Barrel Aged Stout - Rated 4.54 
Fremont’s dexterous brewers crafted this beast of a beverage with brewer’s licorice, smoked barley, and cassia cinnamon bark. After 15 months in 12-year-old bourbon barrels, every thick taste flourishes with luxurious layers of delicately-conjured complexity.
Each sip swells on the palate with notes of dark cocoa and spice, atop a finely-tuned whiskey profile. The 2021 vintage clocks a massive 12.3% ABV, though rich aromas of molasses, cinnamon, and vanilla cloak it well. 
#7. WeldWerks Brewing Co. x Pontoon Brewing Company - Snozzberries Taste Like Froot Camp Fruited Berliner Weisse: Crazy Zombie - Rated 4.55 
The brewers at Georgia’s Pontoon got together with Colorado’s WeldWerks to make this tiki treat, using “an obscene amount” of black currants, tart cherries, pineapples, papayas, almonds, vanilla, and lactose. 
It’s thick as blended fruit, delightfully creamy, and wholly juicy — like a cocktail straight out of Polynesia!
#6. Drekker Brewing Co. - Slang Du Jour Raspberry Cheesecake Fruited Sour - Rated 4.62 
To create this opulent delight, the brewers say they “absolutely stuffed it with the finest real ingredients:” ripe raspberries, granola crust, velvety vanilla, real cream cheese, and a dash of silky lactose! 
With every decadently thick mouthful, you’ll experience how the smoothie-experts at Drekker conjure the flavors of an expertly baked cheesecake, topped with delicate ribbons of fresh raspberry sauce and plush whipped cream. 
#5. WeldWerks Brewing Co. - Blueberry Cobbler Berliner Weisse - Rated 4.64 
Colorado’s WeldWerks brewed their Blueberry Cobbler with vanilla, graham crackers, milk sugar, and a whopping 1500 lbs of blueberry purée per batch!
It’s no wonder this Berliner’s so bangin’. Each nectarous sip overflows with the juice of tart, earthy blueberries and crumbly cobbler crust, balanced by the creamy sweetness of vanilla — like a scoop of cobbler topped with homemade ice cream. 
#4. Fremont Brewing - Brew 5000 Barrel Aged Barleywine - Rated 4.67 
This enviable English Barleywine was brewed to celebrate Fremont’s 5,000th batch of beer, so naturally, they pulled out all the stops. 
A blend of specialty malts creates deep flavors of brown sugar, candied date, and toffee. Notes of raisin and plum appear next, followed quickly by a warming flood of caramelly whiskey and oaky vanilla from a full 16 months in bourbon barrels!
#3. Evil Twin Brewing NYC - To the Milky Way & Back II Imperial Milkshake IPA - Rated 4.69 
With generous additions of real fruit on top of the tropical hop base, this silky lactose and vanilla-loaded galaxy is even more delectable than our wildest thoughts could conjure! 
Bright strawberry and softly tangy raspberry burst upfront, followed swiftly by juicy, jammy blackberry. Let it linger all together on the tongue, and it’s reminiscent of a whipped cream-topped berry tartlet!
#2. Jester King - SPON Red Shiso and Fuyu Persimmon (2020) American Wild Ale - Rated 4.70 
SPON’s journey started with a commitment to time. For 2 whole years, the 100% spontaneously fermented base beer matured in wine barrels. Later, the Texas-based farmhouse brewery added in herbaceous, bright red shiso imported from Japan and silky, juicy Fuyu persimmons from right down the road at Lightsey Farms in Mexia, TX.
The result? A beautiful blend of tart, tangy, natural flavors that combine with the tannic-like qualities from the barrels and flesh of the fruit.
#1. Anchorage Brewing - A Deal With The Devil, Double Oaked Vanilla Bean Barrel Aged Barleywine - Rated 4.89 
Head brewer Gabe Fletcher and his team aged this edition of ADWTD for 7 months in top-shelf Woodford Reserve Double Oaked barrels, then transferred it to Elijah Craig bourbon barrels for an additional 6 months. Finally, they finished it on Madagascar vanilla beans.
The result is a sinfully smooth and silky elixir that tastes of caramel-drizzled crème brûlée with complex layers of oaky, bourbon toffee. A steady stream of vanilla sweetness keeps things glib and comforting, all while that blush-inducing ABV slowly creeps in.
from Northwest Beer Guide - News - The Northwest Beer Guide https://bit.ly/3dAepza
1 note · View note
nananaptime · 4 years
Text
Gelato
What did I just write...?
Written for WOTM July on NCT Amino :)
Masterlist Rules
Tumblr media
Genre: Fluff I guess?
Word count: 1 669
Summary: Spending your time admiring your crush from afar should be enough, shouldn’t it?
~
By now, I basically lived in the ice cream parlour located on the beach, ready to serve any overheating tourists and visitors who may stumble upon its delicious selection of gelato flavours. I, however, ended up revisiting the facility on multiple occasions for a different reason, one I was half ashamed of and half excited by. He had most likely noticed by now how I only ever stayed longer whenever he was working and how that one special smile was reserved for his benefit. It didn’t seem like he minded though, considering I’ve never gotten anything less than happy smiles and talkative energy from him. There had been no request for me to stop returning just to be able to look at his face from him nor had he tried to not serve me while I was there. I took all these as good signs and, eventually, I will gather my courage and make a move. I was just hoping it happened before the end of this summer.
The doorbell chirped as I opened the door and entered the fresh air of the parlour. It must be rather difficult to keep such a perfect temperature in a room of this environment, with the cold coming from the freezers in which the gelato was kept and the heat entering through the open windows, but they managed to keep in on a pleasant temperature.
It was Dejun whom I was greeted by at the counter. He lit up in a smile at my appearance and as I approached, he stood to full height, trying to seem more professional in his stance of the job. He noticed my eyes scanning the area behind him, looking for that prince-like face I always came here to see. He laughed slightly at my obvious infatuation.
“You should really make a move soon, you know. What has it been, four weeks since you first came here for your first gelato?” I just shook my head and poked my tongue out at him, knowing he was more than right regarding my inability to take the final step.
“I think I’m already late, considering he’s basically married to you.” Dejun laughed out loud at my comment, attracting the attention of one of his colleagues from the back.
“Is that Y/N!?” Yangyang poked his head in from the backroom. Once he confirmed that it was, in fact, me, he disappeared again, screaming and embarrassing me all the while. “Kunhang! Y/N is here!” Then, as he reappeared with a teasing smirk on his face, he declared that Kunhang had been waiting for me, causing my face to heat up within a millisecond. I couldn’t help but look away to hide my red face as Kunhang emerged from the backroom but was only successful for a mere moment as the desire to gaze upon his features was too powerful for me to overcome. As his eyes caught mine, I realised he had asked me a question and was now waiting patiently for an answer with a teasing smile on his face.
“Sorry, what?” He giggled at my weakened state and, once again, inquired for my choice of gelatos this time of day. I glanced down at the many flavours available to me and quickly settled for the first two that caught my eyes, almond and pear. This because I couldn’t keep my eyes away from his face for too long as they were always pulled in his direction like a magnet is towards the north pole. Fighting it was useless.  He shook his head at the odd combination that left my lips as he started scooping the gelato into a small container. It wasn’t the first time I’d come to regret my choice of flavours as I had, on previous occasions, ended up with combinations such as banana and liquorice, caramel and cranberry, and toffee together and peach. My taste buds are used to the abuse I put them through.
I spent the time at the parlour with admiring Kunhang as he worked away at the counter, giving countless of gelatos topped with a variety of sauces and toppings to children who wanted as much as their parents allowed them to have. The kids loved Kunhang, the gelato prince who would make them laugh every time they visited and sneak on some extra gelato when their parents weren’t looking. They always left happier than they had come. Sometimes, I felt like one of those kids myself, just that I couldn’t care less about the gelato. My source of joy was standing behind the counter.
I was about to leave as the clock neared six in the evening. My parents, who were both cooped up by the hotel pool, wanted us to have dinner together while we caught up with each other’s day. At the start of the summer, we did everything together, but as time went by, we all started gravitating towards our own sources of interest on the island, causing us to spend more time apart than we did together, hence why my parents found the evening dinner to be of extra importance.
As I approached the exit, I heard someone clear their throat behind me. Turning around, I was met by the laughing face of Dejun, who was shaking his head at my cowardice, and Yangyang who was frantically gesturing towards the back, where Kunhang was located, completely oblivious to what was happening on the other side of the wall. Eventually, Yangyang sighed and rolled his eyes before leaning down on the counter, whisper-yelling: “Do it!”
Deciding to bite my tongue and swallow my pride, I marched towards the two boys, grabbed a napkin from its holder on the counter and scribbled down my number. This I then slid over to the boys to give to Kunhang before I could chicken out. Then I was out the door.
My heart was racing as I settled on a bench halfway back to the hotel. Worry settled in my stomach and I was afraid of the possibility that I could’ve ruined everything. If he doesn’t want to contact me, I could never go back there. I would never have the privilege of gazing upon his beautiful face ever again.
He never called nor did he text that evening. The following morning, as my parents and I made our way down towards the beach for the weekly family hangout, I had come to terms with not setting my foot inside that parlour ever again. Who cares if I didn’t see him again, it’s not like I knew him? We weren’t friends, we weren’t even acquaintances.
We found a part of the beach slightly excluded from everyone else, a factor necessary due to my father’s discomfort of tanning where too many people could see him. This, for some reason, did not seem to apply to relaxing by the pool and splashing around in the water, two activities very much beloved by my father. Maybe it’s because he’s enjoying himself too much to notice any of the other people doing the same.
My mother quickly rose the parasol, wanting shade to be a possibility from the very beginning, she was also very strict with the rule of tanning in the sun for ten minutes before laying in the sun for another ten and then alternating that schedule for the rest of the day if we insisted on tanning. She, herself, did not find that activity too enjoyable as he easily got bored and ended up laying there, counting birds in the sky. That is, in between the sneezes prompted by watching the bright blue sky.
I had brought a book with me, determined to force my focus elsewhere and not be too affected by the decisions of a certain someone. A someone whom I had no right to have and respecting that was far more important than mending the small cracks in my heart.
I finished the book quickly, ending up sitting in the shade of the parasol while watching the people as my parents splashed around in the sea like children. I smiled at their antics, happy that even though they’re grownups, they still knew when to let their childish side out. I was startled from my observations by the sound of someone sitting down in the deck chair beside me. Glancing towards the intruder of my peace, my breath hitched in my throat as I registered who had decided to make themselves comfortable in the deck chair previously occupied by my father.
Kunhang smiled at me, letting out a cute high while soaking up the sun which was shining on his bare back. I swallowed hard before enquiring for the reason of his presence. He let out a small sigh, still wearing that never-ending smile on his beautiful lips.
“I was expecting you at the parlour this morning, I even had the best combination of gelato ready for you, all paid by me.” He laughed slightly at my confused expression. “I was hoping to have our first date in the place we first met.” He shrugged, before admitting that he probably should’ve texted to make sure I knew my feelings were reciprocated but he had been too nervous and had hoped to have that particular conversation face to face over some gelato. My annoyance at his lack of contact evaporated as I registered the fact that he too had suffered cowardice and hence prolonged the opening of the door to a romantic relationship, just as my cowardice had for the past month. That, I could relate to immensely.
So, I grabbed his hand, suddenly filled with a surge of confidence at his confession, and suggested going back together while also expressing the desire of tasting the best gelato combination he promised me. A big smile stretched across his face as we walked, hand in hand, down along the beach, towards the gelato parlour, with two gushing parents behind us in the sea.
26 notes · View notes
lodsamone · 3 years
Text
the okay ones
select entries from ffxivwrite2020 that DON’T make me want to shrivel up and die from embarrassment
they are still really rough though and not proof-read so please please please ignore the sloppy, of which there is a lot
here’s a gdocs link for easier reading,probably, since tumblr kinda sucks at this
#1 Crux
The table is arranged for one. The parasol casts perfect cover and is adjusted every bell to keep it so. From atop this hill there is a view of the house, and a view of the sea. It is a scene from a painting, one you’ve seen before. It’s been some time.
You set the tray before him, though it is not your job to do so. That which is favored is put within reach: cherry tomatoes, caramelized pears, the yolks of hard boiled eggs. The tomatoes disappear first. He pops the skin with his incisor, sucks it dry, and swallows.
“Does it disgust you?”
The two of you have not discussed it yet. A sneer in his voice is nothing unusual, but this one, you can tell, has purpose.
“No more than it does you.”
Obscurity does not thrill him. Aggression does not suit him. If the tangerines still had skins to peel, he would do so vigorously.
“How mercenary.”
Now he is laughing. You do not share in the humor, but you will grant him his shield. That he told you, and that you still remain - it does not need to be said plainly. For you, there is something greater.
#5 Matter of Fact
“Don’t give the tarts to Mrs. Patsy, she hates sweets and you’ll upset her stomach.”
Lauda frowns at Mrs. Patsy. Mrs. Patsy smiles back, ever joyous.
Lauda moves the plate of tarts to the other side of the table. She holds it between the nails of her thumb and forefinger. Setting it between the teapot and the fruit basket is a precision art. She is careful not to disturb a single piece.
“Pour her some tea, Lauda. Be careful not to splash any on her dress this time, she was awfully down about that, for a whole sennight too.”
It feels a terrible waste to serve fine tea to toys, but that is not Lauda’s concern. The tea is still hot - it must be - and its miniature container is painful against her fingertips. Not a single drop astray. She returns the teapot to rest, and waits.
“Won’t you offer her some cream and sugar?”
“...Mrs. Patsy does not like sweets.”
“Silly Lauda, it’s only polite. She’ll decline and then you can offer her cheese and crackers, which I am sure she will like. But make sure you put those between her and Ms. Glorygold, she always wants some of whatever she’s not having.”
#7 Nonagenarian
He can smell her from the threshold of her room. Amidst the dark he can see her hand, the last branch of a dying tree, gnarled and giving way to rot. Her chest rattles with every breath. The weight of the linens seem enough to snuff her out entirely.
Eamon cannot see her face from where he stands but her fingers twitch, pulling at the sheets with paltry strength. Her rasps grow deeper. Eamon plants his feet but the weight of her call is too much, and she pulls at the roots he grows in vain.
His mouth is dry. As he grows close, rasps turn to mutters. Thoughts spill into broken words, ruined by lips too feeble to drink. She looks him in the eye and speaks in slurs. He hides the tremble in his hands behind him, and hangs on to every word in the hope the next releases him.
#9 Lush
A clear memory: you find her in the gardens, and she tells you she is with child. The hibiscus are in full bloom. Recent rain has weighed down the grandest of them and you watch moisture seep into the hem of her long skirt, her long sleeves. Marian pulls a flower close, jostling droplets from its leaves. It seems a comfort to her as she watches you sideways, an unsure smile on her lips.
She is blooming, brighter than any seed might grow, you are certain of it. With a smile you congratulate her and relief raises her shoulders. Why should she worry? It pulls at your chest but you dare not speak it.
You watch the sleeve fall from her wrist. You ask: “did you tell him?” 
“Yes, I did. In the morning, when I was certain.”
You push her further. “And?” It stresses you to press, but you cannot place her unease.
A blush rises to her cheeks. The memory brings her joy. The sight of it puts a twist in your stomach, painful and pleasing both.
“He was happy, very much so. And relieved. It seemed all sorts of things, really.” 
Marian smiles up at you and her eyes do not match it, yet there is no break in her expression otherwise. What she fears she will not speak, and you will yourself to be content with it.
“Good,” you say. She reaches out to touch your forearm, her palm smoothing down to your wrist. Her skin is cold. She squeezes to reassure herself, yourself, and you watch the falter of her smile, the pale line of her neck. You daydream your fingers at the base of her ear, the soft skin at her jugular, the ridge of her collarbone. Is she not cold? Would she shiver, if you touched her?
She jostles your wrist. “Oliver? Is something wrong?” She leans to the side and her smile grows wide, playful. “What are you thinking?”
Red hair spills over pale shoulders. An urge to chase them bubbles within. The memory grows unclear.
#11 Ultracrepidarian
It’s a Mhachi relic, he says, no two ways about it. A silk cloth covers his grubby little mitts as he turns the piece over, as if it might be dangerous. Etchings on each face of the fist-sized cube catch the light as it rotates. The auctioneer becomes overzealous in his motions, and pretends to let slip the silk as he catches himself with a nervous chuckle, and his eyebrows waggle in a suggestion of near-danger. Swyngeim snorts. It is a convincing display, if nothing else.
“What are its origins?”
“It came into my hands by way of an old associate - one who has dealings with adventurers. Why, he’s grown so bold he camps himself outside their popular jaunts and greets them on their way out, ready with offers!” The thought is humorous enough for both of them, he seems to think, and so he laughs twice as hard. His cheeks split wide open, turning sickly red.
It’s a hard task to look at him. Swyngeim focuses on the Meracydian relic. It is old, very pretty, but sadly useless. She thinks to tell him, to see if that face of his can grow any more red before it bursts.
“My Lord might be interested,” Swyngeim says. She holds a hand to the back of her neck and pops it loose. The plush bed awaiting her at the inn calls to her. “I’ll speak with him tonight, and we’ll see about the price in the morning.”
Nodding his head near off, the auctioneer returns the relic to its box, still careful not to touch it. He chuckles a few ‘oh hoo hoos’ and rubs his sweaty paws together. “Of course, of course my good woman! Do be sure to ah, warn him about the demons inside!”
#14 Part
“Why did you leave her?”
Oliver returns to his body. Trails of incense climb to the ceiling in loops and arcs and he watches, transfixed, as the smoke merges into scented spirits, and dissipates. The woman - he’s forgotten her name - lured him into his tent with dice and fortunes, bone etchings and stones painted with symbols of the twelve. He hears her shake them in her hand, spill them, listens as they rattle and come to rest.
“Leave who?” The woman’s tail brushes against his leg. Her living quarters are small, cramped, better than his. Home now is a damp hammock on a darker ship. It is nothing like it was before. His limbs are tired and sore from a long voyage and it drains his thoughts. Oliver does not think he will move from here for a long time.
“The woman you’re thinking about,” she corrects, “you were thinking about.”
Oliver looks to her backside, all that is in view, obscuring the ministrations of her private ritual. Her form is liquid metal: copper hair running down her back, bronze skin naked beneath her trailing nightgown of silver silk. Candlelight glints off golden bangles, earrings, as she removes each piece carefully, sets them down on a cloth at her side.
Oliver thinks about her now. He will again, into the night. Why did he leave? Where is he going? The clamor of his crewmates beyond her heavy tent dies down. The women outside have all gone with them.
“What are you doing?” Oliver asks.
The woman kneels at a small mythrite altarpiece she keeps at the foot of her bedroll, an icon of Nymeia, and prays in a low hum, in a language he does not recognize. It draws out the tenor of her rich voice, coaxing, promising, and when she stands up and turns to him there is a little more grace in the movement of her hands, the turn of her hips.
“Sorry for the wait,” she says, “I’m ready now.” She tugs apart the silk ties of her gown and perches on top of him. He takes her breasts in his hands and closes his eyes.
#15 Ache
I still feel it around my neck.
It’s long gone, Frida says. The bite in her laughter soothes the memory; she distracts me with curious things, disorderly words, riddles to unravel. There’s no harm in lying about one’s home, she says, it makes no difference in the now. She laughs and laughs and only in the quiet do I see the spectre of her misery: a far-off look half-lit by campfire, calloused fingers smoothing over the strap of her belt. Frida is right to keep it hidden away. I cannot help but wonder. Could I hold it in my palms slick with oil and sear it into my flesh? I would smear the remains on her cheeks and see her laugh, see her tears wash it away and take my hands in hers.
#18 Panglossian
“Do you think there will be any offers? For my hand, that is.”
The blush that blooms across Marian’s cheeks sets my stomach to churn. It’s not that it should happen, but that she should look forward to it. Marriage. How trite. A dead man with little money to impart was all it afforded me, and it would be wrong of me to hope much better for Marian. The twelve saw fit to bless her with sweetness but no sense to accompany, and even less coin to offer up in compensation.
“Oh, enough from you! You’ll set yourself up for disappointment - a girl with your breeding shouldn’t expect one within the week, let alone from a man of sound mind and body, or age, or any kind of means.”
“Oh.” Marian’s shoulders droop. She quickens her pace and comes up alongside me. The dirt trail leading from our home is damp with rain, and her pale blue slippers and hem are already stained with mud. “Well, that’s alright. I won’t burden you for long, Fanny, there’s always honest work to be had in the city. I could try my hand at the botanist’s guild, you know how I love to be in the garden.”
My nose wrinkles. “What nonsense! You’re still young, plenty of time to ensnare some simple-minded man willing to take care of you.” I sneer. “Work.” What a distasteful thought! It’s bad enough to consider their family being so debased by such a thing, more so to imagine Marian being depended upon by anyone. “Do you want to end up an old maid?”
Marian sighs. Her arms swing back and forth as she walks. “No… I suppose not.”
The post box comes into sight. A cover of thick morning fog obscures it - from the neighbors too, by the looks of it. I slow my pace with less reason to worry.
“Good, I thought so. If you don’t wish to burden me you ought to work on your conversation, it was dreadful to listen to you the other evening, it really was. Oh I thought I’d faint for sure!”
“If you say so. But some of the boys were very poor at it too.”
“It’s not their job to charm you, Marian. Will you not think of your position?”
“I’m sorry, Fanny.”
The moss growing about the post box dampens the sounds of it opening. Once the mail is in my hand I retreat back home, lest the fog clear, and the neighbors see. There’s more than I expect alongside the familiar texture of bills, the yellow ribbon of Seedseer business.
“Here’s a letter for you, Marian.” I squint at the seal, all flowers and fancy lettering. “...From that Eglantine boy. He did arrive after all, didn’t he?” I’m more surprised that I ever agreed to invite him in the first place. What a journey it must have been for him, for a girl so… bereft.
Marian snatches the letter out of my hand and skips ahead. “Ooh I wonder what it says!” She giggles and tears it open. “We danced together you know!”
“How charitable.”
She gasps. “His penmanship is so beautiful!”
Hers might be beautiful as well, if she had the mind to work on it. “Don’t get too excited, it’s a thank-you note for the invitation. It’s what’s popular among those types these days. What a useless sentiment! Copied by one of his sixty servants, no doubt. Oh yes! How generous of you to invite me to some farm girls’ debut! How thrilling it was to mingle among the commonfolk for a few bells, thank-you, thank-you! I tell you--”
“He says he means to marry me!”
“Don’t interrupt! Oh, these fantasies of yours-- stop skipping ahead Marian, I wasn’t finished!”
#19 Where the Heart is
Fire strikes the night sky. A thousand sparks skitter through ink before flickering into the black empty of the sea. Every light reflects in its calm surface: a mirror to the other side. All the city is alive with noise. A river of people pass behind you, the both of you, on a bridge overlooking the bay. Its current sweeps up your company, done with deals for the eve, leaving you at the edge of the way out and on the cusp of a decision - to retire, to remain.
It takes less convincing to get him in the local garb than it did when you first arrived. What was good for business now served utilitarian, starched cloth propping up weak shoulders, hiding sickly-thin limbs. With judging eyes now gone he loosens its grip around his neck and you can see the rounded peaks of his vertebrae. His grip braces white against red railing and you step a little closer.
A cold wind blows from the sea and you, the both of you, watch a parade of lanterns float through the canals and spill into the deep, a slow march at a pace neither of you can match. The fireworks’ finale phases him not, gaze glued to the horizon where hot embers stain the sea. A mirage of wine red hair swimming beneath, white hands adorned with jewels ebbing on the waves, beckoning you home.
#20 Extra Credit
I watch them from a distance. The boy (the rat-faced weasel, the base miscreant) asked to be alone with her and I denied him, as is proper. He was annoyed, that much was certain, but I do not intrude, as is polite, and he really couldn’t ask for much better, could he? He already has enough, and there’s a sharp glint in his eye that I do not like, not at all. Who knows what he might do to poor, sweet Marian, behind closed doors, with no supervision? The girl is so stupid.
Marian sneaks glances at me. I really wish she wouldn’t. The boy distracts her with a present from his pocket, a small box, and opens it for her, showing her what’s inside. It must be very nice because she slaps her hands to her mouth like some common idiot and makes noises that are distinctly not-speech. The words come after, all ‘ooh’s’ and ‘oh my’s’ and ‘thank you,’ there it is, finally. How embarrassing. The boy looks uncomfortable and I’m sure he’s thinking as I do, but I won’t let him walk back his mistake if he's smart enough to see he's made one, and dull enough to say so.
Marian reaches for whatever it is, I have to squint to see it, a necklace by the way she holds it. I can see the pendant but not the chain, which is either very fine or my eyes have gone worse. Perhaps both. The boy offers to put it on for her - does he even know how? - and she turns, all aflutter, hands at her chest, tears in her eyes.
“Please don’t cry,” says the boy, and he sounds like he means it. Marian spares us both.
#29 Paternal
The weight should be crushing him by now. Even twenty ponz more would be a burden on his frail frame. He’s much too weak. Kent could sprint to the mouth of O’ghomoro and back and yet have the strength to snap that bony back over his knee.
He doesn’t want to move. His body does, and his mind knows it’s best, but his eyes-- Pleading with me as I approach. Can I move something without disturbing it? He always asks the impossible.
“I’m in a fine mess.”
I stop in the doorway. “I can see. Anything gone numb?”
“Not yet,” he lies.
Both feet, his left hand, travelling up to his elbow. She’s positioned in an odd way. He must have shifted her while she slept, only to delay the inevitable. A wet spot blooms on his shirt. There’s a wince in his eye as he turns his neck. I commit it to memory.
“Shall I move her?”
His hand at her head, the shift of his legs. “Not yet.”
2 notes · View notes