#offal hunt
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Not a fluffy piece, but this Anon (don’t remember who.) Got me hooked on mating/rutting cycles.
Going with a Night Lord. Their nest will be filled with their most softest pelts they have personally gone out and hunted, and skinned. The rest of the animal meat going to the freezer to store up on that fat.
At first, he’ll try and lure you in with clicks, and purrs at first. Slowly getting you closer and closer to where he wants you. If that doesn’t work he’s dragging you over. And plopping you right in the middle of it.
Now, this next part might be your most crucial one. With you feeling out the nest he made out his hunt. His eyes are on you all the time. Watching, waiting for your reaction.
Does she like the nest? Is it too fluffy? Maybe I needed to put some extra hide in there? Does she like the nest?
When you sink down into it? It’s game over for you. He’s on you, pampering you. Preparing you for him, and the rest of the days, possibly weeks he plans on keeping you there for.
You better call in for your work…If you can.
I think this is the post. Yeah I thought about it too and then resisted and was a good girl but now I'm finally getting to the asks.
Would this be under the husbandry tag list or normal tag list?
@bispecsual @egrets-not-regrets @moodymisty @bleedingichorhearts @liar-anubiass-blog @thevoidscreams @barn-anon
Night Lord nests can be similar to Raven Guard nests or Space Wolf dens. They make sure their "prey" fridge is full of game to feed you... any offal cuts or even "bad" meat they keep for themselves only feeding you the finest prey. Sometimes even going out of their way to try and get a specific type of prey or even trading for a perfectly soft type of pelt. Wandering warbands of Night Lords being great at culling numbers of prey species or dealing with nuisance animals... and a sustainable fur trade.
Pillows are torn apart and sewn back together ensuring that they are soft enough... squishy enough... and with a few firm enough to put under their bonded to assist in positioning you when you are certainly fucked out of your mind. Each stitch hand sewn by himself... each pelt tried to earn through a kill of his own... fast kills as the meat tastes better for you when the animal doesn't realize it's even died.
When he is ready he will lure you close unarmored just crooning in Nostroman to you... that flowery romantic language... he's tried to teach you some. How his black eyes watch you as you crawl into the nest... certainly making it harder for you to exit the nest verses getting into it... when you lean back into the soft furs and let out that exhale... he's gotten you.
Between the bouts of sex and taking care of yourself you were fed cooked meats and other such delicious foods but it was all a haze of pleasure until he got most of his cycle out of the way. Then you're allowed to go to work but once you get home he takes you to the nest and feeds you and breeds you.
He's such a good boy.
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Jaune: TYRIAN!
Tyrian: Oh? Heh heh heh...
Jaune: Huh?
Tyrian: AHAHAHAHAHAHA! YES! YES! Such... ferocity! Such... tenacity!
Tyrian: I am... loathe to recall the disappointment I felt when first we fought... But finally... Finally, after bathing in the blood and offal of your enemies, finally you prove yourself worthy prey for the hunt!
Tyrian: It fills you even now, doesn't it? The hunger. To bite down on my jugular, to feel the warmth fill your mouth and run over even as you drink deep. Good... Good! This is the beast I have longed to face!
Tyrian: As you sharpen your claws, I too sought newfound strength! But this is no place for a final contest. Come! Our goddess must bear witness to our dance! (Turns, Leaves)
Jaune: (Chases after) Tyrian!
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An active hunter with a fabulous haircut vs a monkishly-inclined scavenger
White-headed vultures live in dry woodlands at low altitudes throughout sub-Saharan Africa. These absolutely gorgeous birds have wingspans of 2.07–2.3 m (81–91 in) and weigh 4-4.7 kg (8.8-10 lb), with females being larger. They are primarily carrion feeders, but they also actively hunt, and have hawk-like binocular vision that helps them pinpoint capturing prey. Pairs have been recorded cooperatively hunting animals including hares and monitor lizards. They are critically endangered due to poisoning, poaching, and habitat degradation.
Himalayan vultures live, predictably, in the Himalayas and the Tibetan plateau. Very large vultures, their weights range from from 6-12.5 kg (13-28 lb), and their wingspans from 2.56-3.1 m (101-122 in). They exclusively eat carrion and are the most common birds found eating human corpses in Buddhist sky burials. Unusually for vultures, they dislike offal and prefer to eat the fleshy parts of carcasses. These vultures are near threatened due to diclofenac poisoning, but are not as heavily affected as many other vultures.
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Elven cuisine Headcanons
High Elves:
Haute Cuisine, but make it 🍁𝓬𝓸𝓽𝓽𝓪𝓰𝓮𝓬𝓸𝓻𝓮🍁
...at least, that's how a lot of humans would describe it, for lack of better words.
Pretty-looking dishes that are served in small proportions. Anyone who is still hungry after a 'normal' ration can repeat: High elf families who invite people of other races for brunch tend to already be used to their guests asking for refills.
Mainly vegetarian: Lots of leaves, fruits, roots, seeds, flowers and even bark from edible trees, as well as fungi. If a plant is edible and can be harvested without risk, it will be in the menu.
That is not to say that high elves don't eat meat, though their idea of what's game and what's not can be very culturally different from another race or even another clan: Some high elves might abstain from eating deer or elk because they are seen as sacred in their clan, while some humans might find the idea of froghemoth terrine "disgusting".
Wood Elves:
Cuisine is a reflection of someone's culture, and with wood elves said culture is one of respect for nature. Veggies tend to be foraged rather than grown in a farm.
"Agriculture" and "wood elf" are words that are very rarely in the same sentence, and their food reflects that. Their traditional bread and other baked goods use wild grain instead of wheat.
When meat is consumed, it is based on whatever animals are necessarily hunted, and when that happens, no part of the animal is wasted: Offal and organ meat is cooked and eaten in a variety of ways, and bones are used for stock. If you are gonna eat an animal, then honor its sacrifice by using it all.
Wood elven dishes are the polar opposite of high elves': Little thought is given to a meal's visual presentation, what's important is to make it hearty and delicious.
Dark Elves:
Drow cuisine is one that was very much shaped by the Underdark and what few things are edible and easily harvested in such a hard place.
Mushrooms and edible fungi in general are prevalent: Mushroom stew, mushroom pie, mushroom bread, even mushroom wine! (That last one is canon!)
Some Underdark monsters are hunted for their meat. The Cave Fisher and the Darkmantle in particular are considered delicacies.
"Spider eater" is a derogatory slur sometimes used against dark elves. In truth, Lolth-sworn dark elves see eating spiders or killing spiders in general as highly blasphemous. It is the surface-born Seldarine drow population the ones to actually partake in the consumption of spider meat, and that's something they only started doing precisely to give Lolth the middle finger and then continued doing because, as it turns out, it is a good protein source that doesn't actually taste bad at all, thank you very much.
Surface drow cuisine is marked by a cultural need to replicate the flavors found in Underdark as best as possible using what's available to them. Expect a lot of spices, algae, shellfish, some bugs and, yes, lots and lots of mushrooms.
#dungeons and dragons#elves#high elves#wood elves#dnd drow#drow#drow elves#dark elves#dnd homebrew#dnd headcanon#bg3
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The Stench is REAL: Rotten Eggs + Reeking Weed Factory+ Bad Pipes = "It smells. Bad. VERY bad. VERY VERY bad."
The irony of bridezlla Rachel MEgain Markle kicking up a fuss over a one (1) hour "spectacle" inside the Queen’s "musty" chapel, only to acquire a 1st homebuyer loan for an odorous property.
"It smells like offal that has been rotting in the sun. It makes my stomach churn," a local from the Montecito area reportedly told The Mirror. "I’ve seen lots of homeowners closing their windows when it wafts over."
"According to the New York Post, the smell is wafting over from a nearby bird refuge (which is situated on a 42-acre stretch of saltwater marsh). Specifically, the refuge is the Andrée Clark Bird Refuge, which happens to be one of the largest wildlife refuges in the U.S. Cameron Benson, the City of Santa Barbara's clean water manager, told the Mirror that stagnant water can contribute to the smell, and that the “odor issues are sporadic and sometimes they are worse in some conditions."
"Last year, it was reported the Duke and Duchess of Sussex live just minutes from a legal weed factory base in Santa Barbara, California.
The couple's mansion is just up the road from the 20 large greenhouses full of the plants - leaving the luxury suburb reeking.
Neighbours made a string of complaints, sparking the company to install new “odour control systems”.
The Meghans, Dorito & Markus can get high just by standing outdoors as "...one resident complained that the stench was so bad that they had to pull over while driving along the road."
Imagine taking out a $14.65 million dollar loan on your VERY first home: a 9 bedroom, 16 bathroom mansion and you are CanNOT use your property for business purposes. No Spotify podcasts, NO staged Megflix/Netflix zoom calls, NO staged juggling acts outside the windows, NO book interviews, NO staged instant messages from Beyonce, NO Easter egg hunts, NO cooking shows, NO Variety photo shoots---- only 1 chicken coop interview with NOprah.
The 14,500sq ft, or 1,350sq m, main house sits on 7.4ac of grounds that include a pool, tennis court, tea house and children's cottage.
Money Pit : "The pair have paid a lot less for the property than a previous owner: in May 2009 it sold for more than $25 million. It was put on the market in 2015 for $34.5 million but failed to sell. It was relisted at the start of this year for $16.975 million, selling to the Sussexes for $2.325 million less than the asking price at $14.65 million."
From asks @the-cat-with-the-emerald-tiara-1 Royal Organic Weed "Harry's Choice"
Poll Error: The 4th answer "Money Pit of Montecito"
#The Stench#Environmentally Conscious#save the planet#NIMBY#megxit#Montecito Weed Factory#Montecito Rotten Eggs#Plumbling Issues#Bad Pipes#the invisibles#odor control systems#jam scam#scam jam#money pit#Royal Organic Weed#my polls
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Say, Offal Hunt... Is that based on that like, Fae Grimm witchy AU where Grimm horns grew out of people's heads and into their eyes? It was like a V1/2 thing I think and the name sounds similar. Sorry if misdiagnosed.
Misdiagnosed, I've never heard of that hahaha
For fae stuff we were contemporaries with Seelie AU, which was fun—we had two elaborate multichap AUs for the same ship both published by "Notable Duos" at the Same Time which really feels like some kind of yuri astronomical event. like celestial bodies aligning for an eclipse or something. very good era. but unrelated
TBH the only thing that reminds me of is the Other Thing I Made which was V1 era but is also not relevant to offal hunt's conception (lol) so... yeah rings no bells
it wasn't based on anything like that. it was based on sheeps and goats have cute curly horns. and we have to respect them.
#cinder's do NOT CURL LIKE WQ'S she has her own personal reasons for her troubling actions and deeds
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Okay, very important question: which knights do you think have the best campfire cooking skills? (And which do you think just shove a stick into something mildly edible and stick it in the fire until it's black?)
best: gareth. has worked in a kitchen. practical and independent, but also classy.
runner up: kay. also has worked in a kitchen but more in a managerial, logistics based position. like he knows the number of peacocks to prepare for st stephens day but can he actually do the dirty work required when its just him, a dead rabbit, and a fire?
worst: gawain. hes so rich and spoiled and cultured (worst combination) he both cannot cook, will not cook for himself, and would not eat whatever he attempted to make. he wandered around in the woods starving for like. a While in l'atre this man cannot provide for himself
runner up worst: tristan. yes he canonically survived for months feeding himself and isolde with his hunting but they were like literally feral in the most traditional sense i feel like they just ate that shit raw and bloody then fucked nasty style in the offal. gross? yes. but thats what i feel in my heart. but he still beats gawain because like he Can technically feed himself.
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In the name of Bacon will you chicken me up that egg.
Shall I swallow cave-phantoms?
- Samuel Beckett, Collected Poems in English and French
I went to a restaurant once that said it served "breakfast at any time" so I ordered French toast during the Renaissance. My waiter got the joke.
What isn’t a joke is the traditional English breakfast as a national institution. Most of us love a full English breakfast; you can even travel abroad, to the Mediterranean resorts in Spain for example, and find this quintessentially British dish on sale in cafes and restaurants.
Sometimes also called a ‘fry-up’, the full English breakfast consists of fried eggs, sausages, back bacon, tomatoes, mushrooms, fried bread and often a slice of white or black pudding (similar to bloodwurst). It is accompanied by tea or coffee and hot, buttered toast. These days, breakfast may also include other items such as baked beans and hash browns.
There are many regional versions of this staple. For example, the Ulster Fry includes Irish soda bread; the Scottish breakfast boasts a tattie scone (potato scone) and even maybe a slice of haggis; the Welsh breakfast features laverbread (barra lawr, made from seaweed); and the Cornish breakfast often comes with Cornish hogs pudding (a kind of sausage).
The tradition of breakfast dates back to the Middle Ages. At this time, there were usually only two meals a day; breakfast and dinner. Breakfast was served mid or late morning, and usually consisted of just ale and bread, with perhaps some cheese, cold meat or dripping.
A lavish breakfast was often served by the nobility or gentry at social or ceremonial occasions such as weddings. A wedding mass had to take place before noon, so all weddings took place in the mornings. The first meal the new bride and groom ate together would therefore be breakfast and became known as the ‘wedding breakfast’.
By Georgian and Victorian times, breakfast had become an important part of a shooting party, weekend house party or hunt and was served a little earlier. The gentry loved to entertain lavishly and that included breakfast.
Breakfasts were unhurried, leisurely affairs with plenty of silver and glassware on show to impress the host’s guests. The breakfast table would groan under the weight of the produce from the host’s estate. Newspapers were available for the family and guests to catch up on the day’s news. Indeed, it is still socially acceptable today to read newspapers at the breakfast table (a definite ‘no-no’ at any other meal).
As well as eggs and bacon, which was first cured in the early 18th century, the breakfast feast might also include offal such as kidneys, cold meats such as tongue and fish dishes such as kippers and kedgeree, a lightly spiced dish from colonial India of rice, smoked fish and boiled eggs.
The Victorian era saw a wealthy middle class begin to emerge in British society who wished to copy the customs of the gentry, including the tradition of the full English breakfast. As the middle classes went out to work, breakfast began to be served earlier, typically before 9am.
Surprisingly, the full English breakfast was also enjoyed by many of the working classes. The punishing physical labour and long hours of work in the factories of the Industrial Revolution meant a hearty meal first thing in the morning was necessary. Even as late as the 1950s, almost half the adult population began their day with a good old English fry-up.
#beckett#samuel beckett#poem#poetry#english breakfast#eggs#bacon#beans#sausage#toast#heart attack#breakfast of champions#culture#society
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So, I binged all of Darling and Beloathed and must ask (if you want to answer, otherwise feel free to discard the message)... Since Darling has Cathulu , does Prince have an animal companion too? Mind supplies golden retriever (a classic) or bantam rooster with silver plumage (roosters call the sun so are it's heralds, much as cats are night's) Mostly for the aesthetic of the two being fully sentient and in cahoots
Also since one of the themes is cultural sharing, may I suggest fusion cuisine? Tomatoes and Potatoes ARE nightshades after all. (also a popular cookie here is called "ox' eye" because of the aesthetic)
Hmmm, good question! Honestly, the answer that feels most accurate is that, while he has a small pack of dogs that accompany him on hunts, at his core he's one of those people who animals just love instinctively. This is a man who whistles while he works and takes the time to say a proper prayer of thanks and gratitude whenever he's in the position of hunting his own food for whatever reason. Villainess finds all this absolutely ridiculous, but was also unwillingly charmed the first time she saw him field-dress a dear on her parents' lands while cooing at the gathering crows and hand-feeding them bits the two of them couldn't eat but the crows would enjoy. I mean, what are you supposed to do when you see a goodie-two-shoes accidentally make friends with your parents' spy network via snacks of offal? Just not fall in love with him? That's not how this works!
Oh hard agree! Though I think it probably skews a little towards him sharing cuisine with her than the other way around, just because he doesn't have the ancestry of inadvertent selective breeding and the very intentional diet during his formative years required to safely eat some of the more fashionable delicacies from her land. She does introduce him to some of the non-toxic dishes, however, and very much gives substituting tomatoes for nightshade in a few recipes for the reasons you specified. There are also a few spices they have there that are made by refining the poison out of certain plants that he's never encountered before but thinks are absolutely fantastic. Who knew that a bit of powdered Grisly Lament blossom would compliment game meat so perfectly? It's not an addictive substance, but he's definitely hooked!
Villainess is initially extremely excited to hear about ox eye cookies, then very disappointed to learn that they don't actually contain any actual eyeballs, then enthusiastic again once she actually tried them. They have sweets in her kingdom, but they're very different than the ones in his kingdom, and tend to be a bit more on the mild or savory side of sweet. Think traditional mochi versus something like baklava or a snickerdoodle. The bees in her kingdom produce very little honey and are highly murderous in nature, so discovering that honey's such an easily-obtained (comparatively speaking) commodity here is exciting. Also she hasn't told any of her friends or family her new source for the stuff and it's driving them all crazy. One of the few times that eating honey directly from the jar in front of other people is a power move instead of something you can get judged for.
Thanks for the ask!
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oh my god, you wrote Offal Hunt??? and there's a remaster now!?!?
Fourteen Years is so so good too and that's how I found out about you again
hey there! you're actually thinking of KIBITZER, who wrote offal hunt with me! we're the offal duo. the stink boys. we're nasty. im lionsenpai here and on ao3, and they're KIBITZER on ao3 and @rontra here on tumblr!
EXTREMELY good news for you about the remaster tho: it's better than the original in every way but one--it's a Lot less close to being finished. however, i will say, unequivocally, the remaster fucks massive. there's even an entire new arc! check it out! and then let us know what you think ;) ;) ;)
(especially the new umbraroot arc!!! know that every part of that arc makes me chew on the bars on my enclosure)
anyway, glad to see an offal fan in the wild. mwah mwah, love you
#kc answers#we're not actively working on the remaster rn but if you were there for the og you dont have to wonder what happens.#you can just imagine it happening better and cooler than before.
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In the Cryptid AU, I know the boy(s) can't eat just any hearts to fill full. Some animals work, but not all of them. Chicken hearts were confirmed to not be sufficient in other asks. Would cow or pig hearts from a local butcher work? The protagonist could theoretically plan ahead and order some for Eclipse should the cryptid hunts either slow down or not produce enough hearts. (Y/N could also try some local hunters and shops, ask they have some offal, and pick out the hearts as well.)
I think chicken hearts do work? I also can't find the original post so I could be contradicting myself but I think I said chicken hearts could work it's just not super satisfying? idk man, I'm not sure LOL
Yes, cow and pig hearts would work! Just your local hunter shopping at the butchers for fresh heart, nothing to look at :)
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Find the Word 2 Electric Boogaloo
@deanwax also got me! So here's some more words!
Mine are; blue, brown, black, bed and bell.
I am slapping both of you back this time, so @awleeofficial and @deanwax can have these words; ran, always, red and savor
More In Fog!
Blue
“Is it by the sea?” I asked it, never looking from that stretch of blue. But a thin line on the horizon, it vanished into the sky. How I ached for it to be you with me, my love, to share that sight, that first with you. To have your hands so comfortably slipped under my shirt, certain to keep your skin on mine.
Your hands though they were...it was not you, and it would never be.
No matter how it tried, “Oh yes, darling, we can even find somewhere on the beach to stay.” Those lips teased my neck, blood dried but ever-present to my eyes, a stain that would never wash clean, “We could dance in the sand,” your hands, its, explored as it spoke, endless in its hunger, its want, “Have you felt the ocean’s touch, heard her sweet song?”
Black
And that sorrow poured from it as tears, my love, as tears. Hot and wet on my skin it cried for me as it angled to hold me tighter than I could it, and then it denied me, “You are everything to me. And death is not a wish I will grant you, darling, not ever.”
But it was one it intended me to grant, delighting so in how well I took to it. My confessions, my love, have been many...and yet not enough, not near enough. This soul of mine is blackened by my actions, my time with that monster. Does it matter that it loved me, truly loved me? That I loved it? Was my...my desperate need to be desired, to be treasured, worth my soul?
Bed
It was months from the beach, the train, our enthusiastic declarations; holed up in a quaint bed and breakfast outside a town too drenched in blood not to be hunting us.
But it is likely you want the how first, perhaps the why.
That enthusiasm, so catching, had burnt us both. We stopped in a small town, for it to feed and me to eat, and both of us to explore.
Our time together was an adventure, after all, my love, it was free of its fog and I of that place that had never been home.
We were playing and we played too rough.
Bell(ies) -- this one is graphic, gory and violent, beware
And oh, my love, how they screamed, the pitches, the tones, the melodies of each were rapturous. I danced in them, as they swayed with its bite, I cut and I danced. We danced, splashing in the offal I rent from their bellies, twirling and singing as gaily as it had slaughtered that first night I watched it. Beautiful, terrible, and altogether mesmerizing...
We reveled in those deaths, my love, in that release.
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Previous / The Palace of Pleasure, Realm of Chaos
Khazaan's stay at the Palace of Pleasure had been mercifully short.
No one was happy about the situation, least of all the daemonettes appointed to him by the Dark Prince himself (and the Bloodthirster was not so foolish as to turn down a 'gift' from the Pleasure Lord). He had hoped they would avoid him as he was intent to of them, but no such luck. A displeased Slaaneshi was a catty, vindictive creature. Khazaan had afforded them no offense, but the fact he was a Khornate was all the reason they needed to pester, pry, and comment.
Fortunately, he was a large creature and they were small, unable to keep up with the Tippler when he hunted in the fields or raided the gardens of this or that Daemon Lord for fruits (and often enough, the daemons charged to pick them). But at last, the Prince had given the Tippler leave to go. He remembered drinking in celebration with the lesser daemons given to him at the fact, stepping over their unconscious bodies and ignoring his desire to consume them.
There were bigger rewards at hand. His wings.
And more importantly, his dog.
At the edge of Prince Realm, Throttle Gurglespew awaited, grinning a broad lopsided grin at the sight of him. Khazaan would never admit it, but it was a relief seeing the Nurglish Daemon. The Unclean One clapped a hand onto his shoulder with an overly moist slap, giving him a sniff and wrinkling up it's half-decayed face. " You reek something awful my friend. But nothing a little jaunt through Grandfather's garden won't cure. Come, come, we mustn't dawdle!"
Khazaan followed in earnest. After enduring the perfumed nonsense of the Slaaneshi, at least the reek of offal and refuse would be something new.
---
Fortress-Manse, Realm of Nurgle
There was a noisy procession going on in the Realm of the Plaguelord, Nurgh family-clans of all stripes celebrating in the raucous way that they did. A Khazaan was the guest of honor, something he would've enjoyed under Nurgle's banner proper. As it stood, being swarmed by grateful daemonflies and scaled by capering nurglings as well being splashed with unmentionable substances was not to the Tippler's taste. As if seeing this, Throttle hurried his companion along, pushing through his kin and marching again towards the Fortress-Manse of Nurgle.
Khazaan was not a fan, but the Master of the Realm certainly was. He took a look at the Bloodthirster, streaked with rotten meat, daemon-vomit, mud (at least Khazaan hoped that was mud), and squirming maggots and gave a booming laugh. Daemons loosed from his gut, rolling down the massive girth of the Plaguefather, who bent lower to see the Red Daemon in his midst.
𝘼 𝙜𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙬! 𝘼 𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙚 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙬, 𝙨𝙤𝙣 𝙤𝙛 𝙆𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙚𝙩𝙝!
Nurgle clapped his hands together and Khazaan flinched each time he did, pinning down his ears. The God ceased, gesturing with two fingers off to his right. Khazaan heard it then; the familiar gurgling yips of an equally familiar Slimehound. Dough'ndel had been led forward by stoic Heraldic Plaguebearers. Across his chest, it bore a long scar, the death-mark given to it by Ka'Bandha no doubt. That is how Khazaan knew this was no new hound. That, and how it all but dragged it's handlers upon seeing Khazaan.
The Beast of Nurgle latched on with its vestigial limbs and tentacles, clearing away the muck and mess of celebration and replacing it with it's own mucus-y affection. Khazaan found it hard to hide his mirth, embracing the beast with one arm. Even Nurgle couldn't help but coo at how Dough'ndel all but cuddling into the heat of it's master, elated the Bloodthirster had come for him.
Reaching out with a massive hand, the Plaguelord scooped up Bloodthirster and Plague-hound both, holding them over his cauldron.
"𝗜 𝗱𝗼 𝗯𝗲𝗹𝗶𝗲𝘃𝗲 𝗜 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗺𝗶𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝗜 𝘄𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝗿𝗲𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝘄𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝘆𝗼𝘂, 𝗞𝗵𝗼𝗿𝗻𝗲-𝗰𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗱. 𝗕𝘂𝘁 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀… 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝘄𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘄𝗿𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝗯𝘆 𝗠𝗮𝗹𝗮𝗹 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗠𝗮𝗹𝗮𝗹'𝘀 𝘁𝗼𝘂𝗰𝗵 𝗶𝘀 𝗽𝗼𝗶𝘀𝗼𝗻 𝘂𝗻𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗰𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗲𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗼𝘀. 𝗧𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗱𝗮𝗺𝗮𝗴𝗲 𝗺𝗮𝘆 𝘄𝗲𝗹𝗹 𝗯𝗲 𝘂𝗻𝗿𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗶𝗯𝗹𝗲…𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝗜 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝘁𝗿𝘆 𝗺𝘆 𝗵𝘂𝗺𝗯𝗹𝗲 𝗯𝗲𝘀𝘁."
Nurgle glanced down, and Khazaan followed his gaze into the bubbling contents below. It was a liquid-y, bright green concoction with a rank, musty smell. The Bloodthirster looked again at Nurgle, his question silent.
"𝗬𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝘆 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗦𝗹𝗮𝗮𝗻𝗲𝘀𝗵 𝗴𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗺𝗲 𝗮𝗻 𝗼𝗽𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝘂𝗻𝗶𝘁𝘆 𝘁𝗼 𝗰𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗮 𝘁𝗼𝗻𝗶𝗰. 𝗜𝘁 𝗵𝗮𝘀 𝗯𝗲𝗲𝗻 𝗮 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗲 𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝗼𝗹𝗱 𝗚𝗿𝗮𝗻𝗳𝗮𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗽𝗽𝗲𝗱 𝘂𝗽 𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘀𝗲, 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝘀 𝗾𝘂𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗼𝗰𝗰𝗮𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗜 𝘄𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝘀𝗮𝘆. 𝗜 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝘁𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗶𝘁 𝗼𝗻 𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗠𝗮𝗹𝗮𝗹'𝘀 𝗮𝗳𝗳𝗹𝗶𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻. 𝗔𝗻𝗱 𝗶𝘁 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗹𝘀…𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝗼𝗻𝗹𝘆 𝘀𝗼 𝗺𝘂𝗰𝗵. 𝗜 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝗵𝗼𝘄 𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗵𝗼𝗿𝗻𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗶𝗹𝗸, 𝗵𝗼𝘄𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿. 𝗔𝗹𝗹 𝗜 𝗰𝗮𝗻 𝗱𝗼 𝗶𝘀 𝘄𝗶𝘀𝗵 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝘁𝘂𝗻𝗲…𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗳𝗮𝗶𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁, 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗶𝗹𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗰𝘆, 𝗧𝗶𝗽𝗽𝗹𝗲𝗿 𝗼𝗳 𝗞𝗵𝗼𝗿𝗻𝗲."
Khazaan shook his head, pacing too and from in Nurgle's palm. He looked at the Plague master, rolling his shoulders.
" Just the Tippler." He declared, before diving into the concoction without a second thought.
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The Siren's Song
The sun was setting over the coastal cliffs, casting a red and orange hue over the rocky terrain. The sound of a beautiful song could be heard echoing through the valley, drawing the attention of a group of adventurers who were making their way through the treacherous path.
As they approached the source of the music, they were greeted with the sight of a harpy, perched on a cliffside. Its body was that of a vulture, with wings and legs, but its torso, arms and head were that of a human. Its wicked talons and bone club made it a formidable threat in combat, and its eyes reflected the absolute evil of its soul.
The harpy's sweet song had lured countless adventurers to their deaths, drawing them in close for the harpy to kill and consume. The adventurers were caught off guard by the harpy's song, and they were compelled to blunder towards its source. The harpy charmed them before attacking, using its song to lure them over the cliff and into deadly pits.
The harpy took pleasure in the suffering and death of its prey, delighting in the "music" they made as they screamed. It took its time dismembering its helpless foes, and it could spend days torturing its victims before the merciful end.
The harpy collected shiny baubles, valuable objects and other trophies from its victims, sometimes fighting with other harpies for the right to claim the choicest prizes. When no valuable objects could be found, the harpy took hair, bones or body parts to line its nest. Its lair was hidden in remote ruins, where adventurers could discover valuable treasure and magic hidden beneath foul piles of offal.
The group of adventurers were never seen again, and their fate remains unknown. But one thing was certain, the sadistic harpy was always on the hunt for its next prey, and its sweet song would continue to lure unsuspecting victims to their deaths.
#dnd#dungeonsanddragons#harpy#fantasy#rpg#creaturefeature#worldbuilding#dndworldbuilding#dndinspiration#dndadventure#dndstory#dndart#dndcommunity
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@leavingautumn13 here. a fic snippet for @1-800-hellyeah featuring that deer hunting scene we were talking about, if you are still interested.
tw for animal death, gore, and blood. i cannot stress enough that an animal dies. also, dawn is like, 24 years old in this.
Dawn whistled, short and sharp, and the deer froze as its head jerked up and towards her, ears twitching—
Ori pounced in a perfect arc, flaring her wings at the last second before her talons slammed into the deer’s back. It squealed as its legs buckled under her full weight, and Dawn heard something crack as it hit the ground. The rest of the herd was gone in a heartbeat, bounding up the trail into the forest with white tails erect, sending birds scattering upwards across the clear blue sky.
The deer thrashed, eyes rolling and wide enough that Dawn could see the whites even from here, kicking its legs in a feeble attempt to throw off the gabite on top of it. Ori sank a talon into the back of its neck and her head arched towards its throat.
Dawn looked away.
Something crunched and then splattered.
It wasn’t any different than her sylveon hunting field mice, really. At least the gabite didn’t play with her prey.
Another heartbeat passed, and another, before Dawn could stomach looking down. Ori was standing still, one talon still gripping what was left of the deer’s neck, head tilted in Dawn’s direction but not making eye contact. Waiting for her flock leader. Right.
Dawn stood, noting impassively that her hands were shaking. She slid carefully down the embankment, and stepped around the rapidly widening pool of blood, moving warily toward her gabite. Ori was being remarkably still, and not hissing or booming, which was a good thing. She knew they were a team. Wasn’t going to turn all that ferocity on Dawn.
Ori chirped expectantly, peering at Dawn’s face for approval. Blood slicked her heavy jaw, and scraps of skin dangled from her teeth. Dawn reached out and placed a hand on her head, between her eyes, which squeezed shut. “Good girl,” she said quietly. Ori chirped again.
Now for the hard part.
Dawn untied her satchel, took off her jacket and gloves, and draped them across the low branch of a nearby tree. She rolled up the sleeves of her undershirt and plucked her knife from her belt. Turned it over in her hands. She could do this. Vertical slit from pelvis to breastbone. Let Ori deal with the offal and help crack the ribcage. Pack the body cavity with snow, drag it back to camp with the hide still on. Don’t get blood on your shoes.
Easier said than done.
#i am NOT maintagging this#autumn.fic#fic: ghost lights#tentative title#tw gore#tw animal death#tw blood#pla is great because i get to write scary and violent pokemon fic. as a treat#''dawn dissociates while field dressing a deer'' is a fic concept that would blow 12 year old me's mind#i always wind up aging up the pokemon protags when i write them because children are just not that relatable#to me anyway. at least not in long form fanfic#''you look about 15'' fuck off cyllene arceus isn't sending a teenager to fix their stalker/fractured spacetime problem#they ARE sending their most special little girl though#hc is that dawn kind of trips and falls into being arceus' ''chosen one'' or whatever#and keeps getting tasked with fixing just. the most buckwild reality breaking shit imaginable#because they really like her#okay tag novel over ask me about my protag takes kthxbye
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Aug 10th (Day 6): Prompt Used- In Bloom / Blood
Day 6: Blood- Thaeril doesn’t make traditional food for non-Bosmer after being stung one too many times by the reaction to it and what it’s made from. But Ralof asks if she will, and she agrees to make something for him to try. Pre/Early relationship. Trying to think of interesting cuisine for Green Pact adherent Bosmer and different ideas for food.
(Note: the recipe used here is based on Sorpotel (Goan Pork Offal Stew), the Indian version of a Portuguese recipe, which uses blood and various offal in the way I thought would be interesting and make sense here. I’ve obviously tweaked things a bit, but kept the basic ingredients and methods of the dish. I have no idea if this version would actually work, but we’re assuming it will.)
Prompts by @tes-summer-fest
Bosmer OC x Ralof
Warnings- Blood (but we're butchering/cooking, not fighting)
Wordcount- around 2.1K
(all of my characters have first-rate RBFs. Description in alt text)
***
Ralof sat up gingerly, watching as Thaeril came in with a large, wild goat slung across her shoulders. She was grinning, her angular face lit up like a child in a sweets store.
“Look at this! We will eat like royalty tonight!” She cried. “It led me on a good chase, too. It was a good hunt.”
“Well you won’t see me complain.”
“I’ll roast it up.” She laughed, a little sadly. “I won’t do anything too… weird with it, don’t worry.”
Something twinged in Ralof’s chest. There was hurt behind her words, he was certain of it. “I’ve honestly never eaten anything made the proper Bosmer way. Would you… would you want to cook some of it the way your people would? I’d be interested to try it.”
“Really? Ohhh… I’d want to do something different than stew, then. I think I have some bone flour I could make flatbreads and then I should have enough spices to make a curry and… and that should be good?”
“That doesn’t sound ‘weird’ at all.”
“Would it make a difference if I said that the base for the sauce is blood?”
“Not at all. I’m looking forward to it.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I’m sure a lot of people would be strange about it, but your culture is so important to you. The least I can do is try it, right?”
Thaeril’s smile alone was worth it, but Ralof had to admit he was intrigued by the idea. There had been plenty of time to talk when he’d been more badly injured and Thaeril had stayed by his side almost constantly. She’d explained the Green Pact to him and what it meant for her people. But she’d never really made much Bosmer food, preferring to try and make things she thought he’d find more palatable. But the more he thought about it, the more he wanted to see the real thing for himself, try it for himself.
So he watched her hang the beast from its back feet and drain its blood into a large jar. Putting that to the side, she began skinning and dressing the carcass with breathtaking efficiency. In the short time they’d known each other, Ralof had very quickly noticed just how completely and staggeringly competent Thaeril was in seemingly everything she did. He didn’t just think that because she’d saved his life; it was obvious in even the smallest tasks.
Now she was digging through her bag, pulling out a pouch and sorting through small jars of spices. Some went back into the pouch and others she put to the side. Once she had all the ones she wanted, she began adding various amounts of each one to a bowl. All of this was splashed with a little vinegar from yet another bottle and mixed into a paste.
“That smells quite intriguing!” He pulled himself a little closer, moving carefully to not jog his wounds.
“I didn’t go too wild. I don’t want to make your first Bosmer meal so spicy you can’t eat it.”
“I’ll be fine. It’ll be good for me.”
“Well, this is going to ferment and do its thing while I get some meat and bits cut up.” She set it to the side and stood, taking out her knife again. She moved with unhurried grace, knowing precisely what she needed. First, a good, solid chunk of meat from the shoulder went into the pot. After that, she inspected and threw in a little fat. He could see why, the meat itself was quite lean without it. After that she was into the beast’s belly. Into the pot went the heart, a kidney, a lung, the tongue, and a chunk of the liver. After adding a little more fat, she cut everything up into more manageable pieces. To this, she added enough blood cut with water to cover everything and fill the pot most of the way. It went onto the fire, first right over, and then pulled back once it had boiled.
“That’s going to simmer for a while.” She sat back, satisfied. “Then I’ll have to do the next steps. For now, I’ll start taking apart the rest of this and start some preserving.”
She took the haunches and set them up over the fire to roast. Other parts she began to slice up for smoking and drying. Ralof watched for a few minutes before asking. “Is there something I can do to help?”
Thaeril froze. His question had thrown her for a loop. She hadn’t had anyone ask if they could help her with anything for a long time, and it took her a moment to think and reply.
“Well, if you can cut up pieces for drying, that would free me up to do some other things. That would probably work best. Um, thank you, for offering.”
“Of course. I might as well be useful while I’m sitting here.”
So they worked together for a while in companionable quiet. Thaeril couldn’t help but smile at the big Nord, carefully and diligently working away. It’d been a long time since she’d shared a task like this, she was far more used to doing everything for herself.
Eventually, she had to put this out of her mind and concentrate on their meal's next steps. Draining the broth into a bowl, she put the meat and offal back over the fire until it sizzled, filling the cave with a mouthwatering smell. It even slowed Ralof’s hands as he looked over.
“Well that smells wonderful!” He grinned. “I think I’m going to like this recipe of yours.”
Thaeril found herself looking down, paying very close attention to the bottom of the cooking pot. At least that way she could say it was the heat from the fire making her face red and not Ralof’s words. But soon enough it was time to add the spice paste, and soon an even more divine aroma wafted around them.
She let that cook for a little while before adding the blood broth back in. A little bit of bone flour mixed with water went in as well. Just enough that it would help thicken up the broth a bit. She certainly didn’t want to ruin the dish by having the sauce too thin. Not when she was sharing it with Ralof, and this was his introduction to Bosmer food. It had to be perfect.
Once the curry was mixed and ready, she pulled it back a little from the heat of the fire and let it simmer again. It would give her time to finish up the preservation of the rest of the carcass, and hopefully it would be done by the time food was ready.
Taking her drying rack outside, she made another small fire beneath it. Ralof had done a fine job of getting things ready on his end, and she had a lot of meat prepared to smoke. As she arranged the strips of meat to her liking, she couldn’t help but smile. She’d acted out of instinct when she’d saved Ralof. A lone man, outnumbered, the rest of his squad dead, and fighting impossible odds. But fighting magnificently. She’d jumped in, not willing to watch this warrior die so ignobly to a treacherous blade. That was before she’d known how sweet and kind he was in addition to his prowess.
“Thank Y’ffre I was there at that moment,” she said softly to herself.
***
By the time she needed to make the flatbread, she and Ralof had gotten the rest of the goat prepared. The fire beneath the drying rack chugged out smoke at a nice pace, and Thaeril knew it was going to be good jerky. The rest of the organs were drying in the air, each strip strung onto a long line to keep good airflow between them.
Now she put some of her bone flour into her bowl. To this, she added a couple of eggs, a little salt and honey, and enough water to mix it all. Letting it sit for a moment, she moved a skillet right over the hottest part of the fire and threw a little of the goat fat in. As the pan heated up, she rolled chunks of the bread dough into thin discs. When the fat started to sizzle in the pan, she put in the first disc of dough. They cooked quickly, and it was barely a minute before she flipped it over and then out of the pan completely. She’d made enough dough for six flatbreads, and as soon as one came out, a little more fat and another one went in. In only a few short minutes, they were all finished.
With that done, she checked the curry one last time. Taking a quick taste, she smiled. It had turned out perfect. So at least if Ralof didn’t like it, she’d have plenty of very delicious food to eat for the next couple of days. But she really hoped that wouldn’t be the case.
She put the thought out of her mind and looked over. “Everything’s ready. Would you like to try it?”
“I’d love to!”
A little nervously, Thaeril filled their bowls. They sat together, each now with some curry and a flatbread. Thaeril watched with trepidation as Ralof studied and sniffed his portion curiously. Then, he tore off a piece of the bread and took a bite. With a nod, he dipped it into his bowl like a scoop. Not a small taste either, but big chunks of meat and offal and a good amount of the sauce. For a split second, her heart leapt into her throat. But only for a split second.
Ralof's eyes went wide as he tried this first taste. Once his mouth was empty again, he laughed. "Shor's bones, that's a fine meal! The meat is so tender… most people don't know how to cook organ meat properly and it's tough but this! Gods, and the spices! And this bread! I wasn't sure how these would even work, but I can't imagine better to go with the meal. Thaeril, this is amazing! Can you make more Bosmer food from now on?"
Thaeril stared. "Do you mean that?"
"Of course! This is as fine a meal as anyone could ask for." He frowned a little. "Someone like me doesn't usually say things like that, do they?"
"Yeah. Usually we don't get past the ingredients. You don't know how many times I've been told how we eat like animals, that our food is fit only for dogs. That we're disgusting cannibals."
He reached out and gently rubbed her arm. "We men and mer aren't very good at understanding other customs, are we? I'm sorry people have told you that. When you explained everything to me, it made so much sense. And it's important to you. Even if someone doesn't like something, why be cruel?"
Tears welled in her eyes. "How are you so nice?"
He shrugged. "I’m just me. And plenty of folks don't like my people's customs. They think we're brutish, they don't like our gods. I'd never hurt you like that. And… and this is really good."
"Thank you." She blinked back tears as she pulled him into a gentle, one-armed hug. "And if you want, I'll cook lots more Bosmer food for you to try until you're all healed up."
"I hope you'll make some after that, too." Ralof's face went pink the moment the words left his lips. Both had avoided talking about later, when he was healed and they would presumably part ways. He stammered a little. "I mean, I might need an escort back to Windhelm. Even healed, I'm not going to be at my best right away."
"I've been a bodyguard before, I might be convinced to do so again." She gave him a small smile.
"I'll keep that in mind. In the meantime, what other recipes have you got? I know we'll have this goat for a few days, but after that we'll have to think of something. Maybe by then I can help hunt?"
So Thaeril began to explain other things they could try as Ralof listened attentively. He asked many thoughtful and respectful questions, truly curious and wanting to understand. She could feel the flush rise in her face. No one had ever taken such interest in her culture before. Not only that, but Ralof ate two helpings of the curry and bread as they talked. And for the second time that day, Thaeril thanked Y'ffre with all her heart that she'd been in the right place at the right time.
#tesfest23#tesfest!#tes fest 23#the elder scrolls V#skyrim#the elder scrolls skyrim#tes v#bosmer oc#oc: thaeril#ralof#cooking#cultural cooking#sharing recipes#food#fluff#cute#tes fic
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