#I love leftovers! I never realized how culturally specific that was

[vodika-vibes]

Round 6 *ding ding ding*

(This is where I stopped last time...)

Tup and "No one's ever going to hurt you again. I promise you that on everything I believe in."

Please and thank you, my love 💚💚💚

Never Again

Summary: You make a promise to Tup that he never asked for.

Pairing: Clone Trooper Tup x Reader

Word Count: 1745

Warnings: Reader is shot, Tup is Angry/worried, reader celebrates Diwali though I don't attach any specific ethnicity to them

Tagging: @trixie2023

A/N: I have an AU problem, I can't not make AUs they're so fun. Anyway, this was fun to write, and I think I'm happy with it. Also, I kept my description of Diwali very vague since I researched for five minutes rather than a deep dive.

Divider by Saradika

Alright, let’s do this one more time.

10 years ago, when you were just a little teeny-bopper from Manhattan, you were bitten by a radioactive spider, and you became the one, and only, Arachne. You saved some people, like your adoptive mom and your grandma, but you weren’t able to save others, like your adoptive dad and your brother.

The most important thing you learned in 10 years as Arachne is to always, always get up. No matter how hard you get hit. No matter how much pain you’re in. Staying down means death.

Three years ago, while in the middle of a fight with Kingpin, something weird happened.

Well, weirder than usual for New York.

A portal opened beneath you, and you fell. And when you landed, you weren’t in New York anymore.

Hell, you weren’t on Earth anymore.

It took you three months to determine where you were (Coruscant), and another two months after that to determine that there was likely no way to return to New York. 

You’ve always been pretty good at adapting to new situations, so within a year of arriving on Coruscant, you had a new identity (well, the same identity, just all your documents claim you’re from Coruscant now, rather than New York) as well as a pretty good job (ironically, the tech in your world is more high tech then the tech here, which is so, so depressing-), the the friendly neighborhood Arachne is officially retired.

After all, Coruscant has the Jedi, it doesn’t need a web-slinging superhero.

And then the war starts.

And at first you weren’t going to get involved. Not your monkeys, not your circus. Plus, you’ve read enough science fiction about tampering with things that are supposed to happen, and the last thing you want to do is make things worse for people-

And then you met Tup.

Sweet Tup. Kind Tup. Gentle Tup.

Tup, who smiles at you like you confuse him a little, but laughs at your bad jokes. 

Tup, who you teach to bake cookies in your too small apartment with your side pressed against his.

Tup, who’s destined to die.

You remember the day when you realized you had to get involved like it was yesterday. It was Diwali, and it wasn’t your first time celebrating it here, in Coruscant, but you invited Tup because, well, celebrating Diwali alone is just depressing.

You cooked all of your favorite foods, or, well, as close as you could with the food available to you on Coruscant, and you sat across from Tup and you watched him try all of the food, while you regaled him with the stories you grew up with, the stories your mother and grandparents told so enthusiastically-

And he grinned at you, a lopsided smile, and asked if he could invite some of his brothers next year. He asked if you minded if the Clones adopted this holiday for themselves-

And you remembered that Tup was meant to be dead within a year.

So you smiled at him, and told him that of course he could, and that you’d be more than happy to share other holidays from your culture. And by the time Tup left at the end of the night, with an entire tote filled with leftover food, you had come to a decision. 

Tup will not die. You won’t allow it.

And, well, you’re from a world where all of this stuff was a movie. You know what’s supposed to happen. You know when it’s supposed to happen. And you have the ability to stop it.

So you pull your suit on, and strap your web slingers to wrist, and you pull your hood on, and for the first time ever, Coruscant meets the one, and only, Arachne. 

Of course, back on earth you had a team of people who helped you. And the people of New York loved their spider person.

You don’t have that support network here.

And it only took a few days before you were listed as a threat to the people of Coruscant. 

It takes three months. 

Three months of hard work. Three months of skipping sleep in favor of investigating to find proof that Palpatine is as evil as you know he is. Three months of anxiety that you don’t have enough time to save Tup.

And then you have it. The proof of the chips. The proof of Palpatine’s plan.

And then you’re shot with a slugthrower.

Not your first time getting shot, but it’s not like you develop an immunity to bullets. You use a web to stop the bleeding, and you make your retreat. You stick to the shadows, clinging to walls and only swinging from building to building when you know it’s safe.

And you eventually make it back to your apartment.

You zip through the open window, and land on the ceiling, your hand pressed over your side, where the bullet ripped a hole in you, and then your spidey sense pings.

You lift your head and your gaze locks with Tup’s.

“Oh. Shit.” You breathe out under your breath.

Tup grabs his blaster and immediately takes aim, and you swear, “Wait! Waitwaitwait!” You say quickly, and then you rip your mask off, “It’s just me, Tup.” You say, “Please don’t shoot me. I’m already holy.” You giggle at your own joke, “Get it, because I was shot?”

Tup’s jaw is slack, “What the actual hell, cyare?”

“Because I have a hole in my sid-”

“Not about that! What is this?” He gestures to you and the ceiling and the suit, “Are you wearing spandex?”

You look down at your black and purple suit, and then look back at him, “I look amazing.”

“You…” Tup takes a deep breath, and folds his hands in front of his face, “Cyare. Get off the ceiling. Now. Please.”

You flip off the ceiling, and land lightly on your feet, “Ta-dah?”

“You realize that every single member of the GAR is hunting you, right?” Tup demands.

“Yeahhh-”

“There’s a shoot on sight order!”

“That does explain why the Corries shot me-”

“Cyare! What’s going on? What is all of this?”

You fold your hands in front of your face, “Uh…okay.” You smile brightly, “Chancellor Palpatine is a Sith Lord who is orchestrating this entire war from behind the scenes. You and your brothers have biochips in your brains that are designed to overwrite your free will. Palpatine’s plan is to use those chips to order the clones to murder all of the Jedi, including the babies, and create an empire where he’s the absolute ruler.” You say, very quickly, “I have proof.”

“...what.”

“Oh, also,” You add, “Your chip is degrading. You’ll get decommissioned for the murder of a jedi, and I refuse to let that happen, so I got involved.”

Tup’s complexion has gone a little gray, “What?”

“I spent the last three months looking for the evidence I needed. And I was worried that I was going to run out of time, so I asked Rex to keep an eye on you-”

“Is that why my brothers have been hovering around me so much recently?” Tup demands.

“Yeah. Sorry.”

Tup closes his eyes, and sighs again, “You said you have proof?”

“I’m bringing it to the Jedi as soon as I finish stitching myself up.” You reply.

Tup stares at you, “You’ve lived on Coruscant for over a year, but you only recently got involved…why?”

You hesitate, and then you flash a small smile, “No one’s ever going to hurt you like this. I promise you that on everything that I believe.”

“You’re doing all of this…for me? Why?”

You meet his gaze evenly, “Because I love you.”

Tup’s hand falls to his side, “Oh.”

“And I want you to be alive more than anything else.” You continue, “Even if you don’t feel the same. Even if you hate me because of the whole…Arachne thing. That’s what it means to love someone.”

He stares at you for a long minute, and then he laughs, “You’re so…stupid.”

“Yeah…I’ve heard that before.”

He crosses the room in several large strides, and he brings his hands up to cup your face, “You could have asked for help.”

“Didn’t want to get you involved.” You admit as you close your eyes and lean into his touch. “Didn’t want you to get hurt.”

“Well,” He replies, “I am involved, and I don’t want to see you get hurt either.” Tup gently strokes your cheeks, “You said you were shot?”

“Yeah,” You gesture to your web coated side.

“Let me call Kix-”

“I have a fully stocked first aid kit in my bedroom, Tup. I can stitch myself up. I can’t…he’ll recognize a bullet wound, Tup. I can’t risk that. Not when I’m so close.”

“...fine. But I’m helping.”

“Deal.”

You allow him to help you into the bedroom, and you gratefully sit on the bed as he vanishes into the bathroom to grab your first aid kit. You strip the top part of your costume off, and you grimace as you poke the hole in your side. 

“Cyare-” Tup pauses when he sees you sitting on the bed without your top on, “This is a full trauma kit,” He continues.

“Yeah, I know. There should be a sterile needle and thread at the bottom.” You reply.

Tup sets the box next to you, his gaze darting from scar to scar on your torso, “Cyare…some of these injuries-”

You smile at him as you dig the needle out of the crate, “At some other point in time, I’ll tell you about some of my greatest foes.”

“Including the one that tried to skewer you?”

“Which one?” You ask with an amused smile.

“Babe-”

“Sorry, sorry. Not funny, I know.” Your smile becomes soft and warm, “Thank you for staying, Tup.”

“Yeah, well…” He takes the needle and moves behind you, “I’m still angry. This is stupid and reckless, but…well, you do what you have to when you love someone, right.”

“Yeah…wait-” You crane your head to look at him, “Tup?”

“Hold still, I'm trying to give you stitches.”

“Yeah, I get that, can we talk about-”

“Absolutely not.”

“But-” You stop when you feel his lips, warm and soft against the back of your neck, and you feel your entire body heat with sudden embarrassment. 

“Later.” Tup promises with a small laugh, “Now. Hold still, this is probably going to hurt.”

[mamthew]

Been playing the Final Fantasy: Crystal Chronicles remaster some since it dropped, and I have some thoughts on it. It’s been a…really long time since I last played the original, and I never was able to get too far in, since I was so new to video games that I was unable to intuit most of its mechanics. Despite this, I fell in love with the game. For quite some time, it was the only game with “Final Fantasy” in the title that I had played. I played, enjoyed, and beat its three sequels: Echoes of Time, Ring of Fates, and The Crystal Bearers (neither of the My Life As spinoffs, but eh).

This remaster is not a good remaster, but mostly not for the reasons I’ve seen put forth online. The developers didn’t do much to improve the visuals, sure, but honestly the art direction of the game was pretty enough anyway that it skates by on that alone. The load screens are not nearly as long as I’d been led to believe. The gameplay is unchanged from the original, and like…I like the gameplay of the original? That’s why I played the remaster? I want to play the game?

My biggest issue with the remaster is how the online is handled, but reviewers have straight up lied about problems with the online? Like…you have a permanent friend code you can give people. The temporary online codes you can generate are different from the permanent one. Why are reviewers saying your online code changes every 30 minutes and you can’t save permanent friends when that’s demonstrably false? Seems like a thing you maybe shouldn’t be writing in your official review.

I’m going to put my own issues with the online aside for a moment, though. I promise we’ll come back to it, but my issues with the remaster are only understood in the larger context of what the game did as a piece of art and what it no longer does now as a result of the changes. First, then, we’ve got to lay down what Crystal Chronicles did as a piece of art. Crystal Chronicles, I’ve come to realize during this playthrough, is a game about storytelling as collective memory, and much of the game’s mechanics work in service to this theme.

In the world of the game, something happened long ago that released poisonous miasma into the air and made much of the world uninhabitable to the four major races. The game follows the players’ customized characters as they take annual pilgrimages to collect enough “myrrh” from magical trees, which is used to maintain the barrier that keeps their town safe from the miasma. The game is broken up into years; it takes four drops of myrrh to maintain the barrier for a year, each dungeon’s tree only provides one drop of myrrh, and it takes several years for a tree to replenish that drop, pushing the characters’ caravan further and further out each year in search of trees that are not yet spent.

I’ve compared this setting to Death Stranding a few times in the past, and I think the comparison holds up. The game’s story has only gained something from the current moment, too. I go out and risk myself to get groceries, which I then bring back home so I can continue to hole up safe in quarantine until I run low again, and I think the game fairly accurately simulates the rise and fall of that pattern, the balance of risk and safety, and the way the dangerous unknown eventually becomes the mundane with time. Most of the locations in the game are old products of civilization that have been lost to nature, and walking through former farmland, abandoned roads, and empty towns in the game do remind me of walking down empty city streets back when coronavirus was still keeping people off city streets.

The game has several stories running in tandem, but the most central one is the ongoing story of the characters’ caravan, chronicled in a journal. After every new encounter, new area, or completed dungeon, a new entry is added to the journal, and at the end of the year, all the entries are incorporated into a cutscene, so the player can read them and relive the year’s events. The entries are very short and written in a simple style, but they still give the player an idea of how their character viewed the events. These end-of-year cutscenes are actually really enjoyable little rituals, and I’ve been avoiding reading the journal entries specifically so I can experience them for the first time in these retrospectives.

As the years progress, the character’s entries show that their memories of earlier years are fading. “Whenever I close my eyes, I vividly remember all my adventures,” says the entry at the end of the first year. By the end of the fourth year, however, “so many memories from my earlier adventures have dimmed, from the joys of chance encounters to the suspense of my first battles.” The entries also show the ways the annual pilgrimages have changed the player character. “It was an easy fight, so I spent a peaceful interlude over a light meal,” says an entry after revisiting an older dungeon. “I was a little surprised. I never considered myself a fighter.”

The written and oral records of the past permeate this game in so many ways. Before each dungeon, a narrator who is presumably another caravanner who went to the same places in the past introduces the location with either a history of the place or an anecdote about the place. The Mushroom Forest, to her, evokes a childhood memory of her mother. She introduces the Veo Lu Sluice by explaining the history of who built the sluice, what conditions allowed for its construction, and what its irrigation has done for the people since. After each dungeon, the player character receives a letter from a family member, telling them what has been happening in the town while they were away. At the beginning of each new year, the town’s patriarch tells your character a story about the previous caravanner, who mysteriously disappeared after announcing he had found a way to remove the miasma entirely.

It feels like history, generally, has been put on hold. The Lilty military once dominated most of the world, but had to shrink back into their capital city due to the miasma, and the city eventually diminished to a small trading post. The Yukes once were at war with the Lilties, but they’ve allowed trade between their towns again, so caravans can have safe havens to stay in while collecting the precious myrrh. The once-nomadic Selkies were unable to find a new homeland before the miasma spread, and now most are stuck on an island that was supposed to be a temporary stop. We hear much of this history throughout the game, but we don’t see any of it. It’s recorded and known but has little bearing on the culture or lived experiences of the inhabitants of a world where no one can leave their homes.

The moogle adventurer Stiltzkin asks the player character where memories go once they’ve been forgotten, and it’s a fair question in a world where everyone is as alienated from the past as they are from each other 

The problem is, this isn’t supposed to be a game about alienation, exactly. It’s supposed to be a game about shared experiences and the ways we experience and remember the same events differently, as different individuals. It’s supposed to be a game about combatting alienation through shared experience. This is supposed to be a game in which I share a screen with three other players even as we each also have our own personal screens providing us with different objectives and showing us different letters from our different families. In the original game, the multiplayer was devilishly difficult to actually set up, as each player had to have their own Gameboy Advance, attached to the Gamecube and used as a controller, to control their own character. The players’ characters lived in the same town and were on the same caravan together but competed over who unlocked which powerups and picked up which recipes, meaning everyone’s stat spread and armor was different. Players had slightly different experiences within the larger shared story, and the use of the Gameboy Advances were meant to highlight those differences.

Which leads to my issue with this remaster. In the original, characters were saved to the same file, and every player’s character lived together in the same town. Their families each had different houses in the towns and would eventually provide the party with different supplies, depending on their jobs and the responses they received to their letters. At the end of each dungeon, the player characters would sit together in a circle and each receive a letter from their families. At the end of each year, the retrospective cutscene showed the characters and their families celebrating their return together. Your characters explored towns together, and your fellow players watched the random encounter cutscenes with you.

In this game, you can’t play local multiplayer at all. You can only play online multiplayer in dungeons, and clearing a dungeon with other players only counts towards the host’s file. At the end of each dungeon, the characters sit in a circle as the mail moogle tells all but the host that there is no mail for them. At the end of each year, the retrospective cutscene shows an almost entirely empty town; the character and his immediate family dance alone. Certain secrets have now been relegated to the single-player experience only, and the minigames you could unlock and play with friends were removed entirely. Towns are also exclusively single-player. The game is no longer a shared multiplayer experience so much as a dungeon-crawler where friends and strangers can jump into dungeons to offer brief help.

This creates a strange two-minded state of play, where I see and remember the vestiges of the game that once was while playing a game that’s in thematic opposition to it. As my character explores Tida Village and sees signs of the population that once lived there, I play this remaster and see leftovers from now-removed game mechanics. It’s a deeply unsettling and alienating experience.

The online isn’t inherently bad, then. It reminds me of FFXIV, where dungeons and bosses are their own separate experiences, removed from the rest of the game. But this online is inherently unsuited to the game it is in. Crystal Chronicles is not FFXIV; the developers put together a system of online play for a different game than the one they were remastering.

It would have been possible to change the game to suit this online system, too! The journal entries for dungeons could have also included the names of players who joined them for those dungeons. The online players could have still received letters, but from the host character’s family, thanking them for keeping their loved one safe. New random encounters could have been added between different online caravans, allowing them to trade items or play minigames with one another. The party at the end of the year could have included the families of randomly selected online companions These changes could have could have given us a synthesis of the old and new, and helped to center the chronicles over the crystals.

Instead, though, we have this incredibly flawed remaster, after almost a year of delays, that serves more as an empty reminder of what the game once was instead of actually allowing us to experience that game, or instead of, god forbid, actually building on that game’s premises and promises. I’m still enjoying the game a lot, but the experience is hella soured by my knowledge of how the game used to play. I’m not sure how enjoyable this remaster would even be to someone unfamiliar with the original.

This remaster feels like a purposeful nail in the coffin of Crystal Chronicles; an excuse to show that the franchise is no longer a potential seller. Whether that’s its actual intent doesn’t really matter, though, since I fear that will be its ultimate effect either way.

[canid-slashclaw]

The Outliers - A Guild Wars Love Story

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9,  Chapters 10 and 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16 , Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20,  Chapter 21, Chapter 22, Chapter 23,  Chapter 24, Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Kaleb got up early the following morning to help Ulfgar unload some kegs from a delivery. As they were storing the last of the brew, the young man went up to the old norn to ask him a question that had been on his mind for quite some time.

"Hey, Ulf. Something I've been meaning to ask ya."

The old norn crossed his massive arms and smiled at his friend. "What's on yer mind, boy?"

"I've been thinking about asking Amalthia to marry me. I know that such rituals are alien to her culture, so I wanted to find a way of getting her enthused about the whole concept."

"Hehe. She's a fast learner. Just introduce her to the various bonding customs each race here on Tyria has and she'll come around to the idea."

Kaleb looked up to his friend. "Would you do me a big favor and find out what her ring size is? I'm sure there's a jeweler who is willing to make one that fits her type of hand."

"Ah. But a ring is just a ring without a proper gem..."

Ulfgar waved for Kaleb to follow him. "Come with me boy, I've something to show yas."

After the last of the supplies were stored, the old norn told Kaleb to wait downstairs while he went up to his room to retrieve something. When he came down, he carried with him a jewel-encrusted tiara that sparkled like a radiant star.

"This was what I gave to my beloved Gloriana when I made my promise vow to her." Ulfgar handed the item to Kaleb as he took it gently into his hands. He was astonished at the brilliance of the diamonds and marveled the centerpiece stone.

"This thing must be at least forty carats," Kaleb noted as he ran his finger over the brilliant cut gem.

"Forty two karats to be exact. Tell ya what... I'll get your mate's ring size and you just keep doing what yer doing. Leave the rest to old Ulf."

"I just need the size. Once I get that, I'll figure out where to go to get one made."

Ulfgar patted him on the back. "Don't worry about a thing, boy. Leave the rest to..."

The old norn let out a mighty sneeze. "Gah! Somethin's gotten my sinuses in a fit."

Kaleb realized what it must have been. "Sorry, it must be the cat. Amalthia and I plan on taking it to her father's."

"Good idea, lad. I would love the little critter, but my nose would heartily disagree."

Footsteps could be heard coming from the upstairs. Moments later, Amalthia padded down looking noticeably groggy.

"G'morning, dear," Kaleb said as he walked over to kiss her.

With heavy eyes, she gave him a quick lick on the mouth then headed out back. "Morning yourself. Sorry for the kiss-and-run. But I've gotta piss and shit really bad. Ulfgar - mind if I mark up your back wall?"

Kaleb busted out laughing.

"You say it all so casually, m'dear. Perhaps, you could just use the water closet like everyone else."

Amalthia stuck her tongue out. "Ha! And get my tail soaked in that swirling mass of filth? I think not!"

"I'll have you know that I stepped in one of your turds this morning when I was moving in some supplies. Needless to say, I need a new pair of shoes because of it," Kaleb retorted with a smile.

"Well, that's what you get for stepping into my sandbox," Amalthia said as she playfully poked him in the ribs.

"So is the whole backyard your sandbox?"

She smiled and laughed. "It would be if Ulfgar didn't mind."

Ulfgar shook his head and laughed. "Ye know true love is afoot when both can talk about each others' bodily functions and laugh."

"Hers mostly," Kaleb interjected. "At least I don't have to worry about getting yelled at for leaving the seat up."

***

Later in the day, Kaleb and Amalthia headed over to her father's butcher shop. As he entered, Kaleb carried Fredricka under his arm while petting her, hoping that doing so would sooth the little feline.

"Sire!" Amalthia yelled.

Moments later, the big charr emerged from the hallway as he stood on his cane behind the counter.

"Cub! And Kaleb! So good to see you both. And who's this?" He pointed to the small ball of fur that was nestled in Kaleb's arm.

"Hi Ludrick, sir. This is Fredricka. We rescued this little fluff ball from a bad situation."

Amalthia's father knelt down using his cane for support. He reached out one of his massive pawed hands and gently began petting the ball of fluff.

"Ha. I can feel it purring. Is it a he or a she?"

"She," both Kaleb and Amalthia said in unison.

Ludrick stood up then hobbled over towards the meat counter and picked out a few scraps of leftover steak cuts. He walked back over then gently began feeding the content cat.

"I had a feline when I was just a cub in my fahrar. His name was Gutslasher. Friendliest little thing," Ludrick said as he reached out to take the cat from Kaleb's hands.

Kaleb reciprocated the gesture as he handed off Fredricka to the old charr. "She's yours if you want her. Ulfgar is allergic to cats and Amalthia and I are just too busy to responsibly take care of her."

"You know, this place has gotten quite lonely since my cub moved out. Thank you, Kaleb. And I wanted to say something else - I'm truly sorry for what I had to do to you. It was for your own safety and Amalthia's. I hope you can forgive me."

"Sir. You did what any caring father would have done. I guess that's why deep down, I've always admired your people. They may seem aggressive and even brutal at times, but at least they are always honest and upfront about how they feel. My people, on the other hand..."

"Kaleb! Don't beat yourself up like this," Amalthia interjected.

Ludrick looked at his human friend and asked. "If you don't mind me asking, what is wrong, Kaleb?"

The young man shook his head. "I was about to mend fences with my family but something happened and now matters are even worse. For once, I just want those closest to us to accept us for who we are and not to be so judgmental."

Amalthia's father looked at Kaleb straight into his eyes and said matter-of-factly. "You accepted that yoke of responsibility the moment you and my cub became mates. If your relationship is to survive then you must have the fortitude to endure the slings and arrows hurled against the both of you."

"He's just venting, sire. Humans like to whine and complain about things, but truthfully, it is just their peoples' way of trying to solve a problem. Giving up is not even in the equation," Amalthia reassured her father.

"No worries, cub. I know each of you are exceptionally strong individuals, both in body and in spirit. It does this old soldier's heart good to see the two of you prosperous and happy together."

"So you've heard about our little business venture, I gather," Kaleb asked.

Ludrick nodded. "Outsomething is it?"

Kaleb replied with a satisfactory half smile. "Outliers, sir, Outliers - freelance bounty hunters who specialized in ridding Tyria of undead and other monstrosities. Thus far, we've been bringing home the coin."

"We've also been thinking of expanding our operations to include treasure hunting excursions," Amalthia added with a closed-eyed nod.

"How does your warband feel about all this?"

"I've invited them over to meet with Kaleb's Seraph buddies. Hopefully, everything will go smoothly. But to answer your question - I gather they are okay with it. I haven't heard any protests from any of them, thus far," she said while giving a few chin scratches to Fredricka.

"Sir. There's something I would like to discuss with you, just the two of us. I hope you don't mind, dear," Kaleb said as he gave a reassuring massage to the back of Amalthia's head.

"That's fine. I'll go downstairs and get the place tidied up a bit." Amalthia kissed Kaleb on the cheek then headed downstairs.

Ludrick looked at the young man and asked. "What did you want to discuss with me, cub?"

"Well. It's obvious that I love your daughter very much and she loves me. I was just wondering how you would feel if I proposed to her. You know the whole hand in marriage thing?"

Ludrick laughed then, as gently as he could muster, slapped Kaleb between the shoulder blades. The force almost knocked him off his chair.

"Listen. The two of you have already gone way beyond anything that is deemed acceptable by both our peoples. So why stop now, right? Fur or no fur, I know of no other soul on Tyria who would be worthy of taking care of my cub the way you have."

"So I take it as a yes? Your blessing, that is?"

"Bah! Those human rituals mean nothing to me. But if they mean so much to you and my cub then, yes, you have my 'blessing'," Ludrick smiled as he petted Fredericka who, by now, was fast asleep in his arms.

"So would it be okay if I call you,dad?"

Ludrick let out a low but menacing growl.

"Don't push it, cub!"

***

Later in the evening, Kaleb and Amalthia returned home. Their foray into Lion's Arch had been uneventful, save for the delightful interaction they had with their new friends; Ariyana and Jestin. Amalthia looked over their new outfits and marveled at just how well coordinated they were.

"Look at this, love. She even made some pockets specifically designed to hold extra magazines. There's even one for an extra sniper scope. That sylvari thought of everything."

Kaleb smiled as he looked over his outfit. "Indeed she did. But Jestin gets credit too for adding some of the norn flare to the leather straps. Yup. With these threads, we are both truly dressed to kill."

Amalthia nuzzled his face then wrapped her arms around his chest as she stood behind him purring. "That outfit looks so good on you that I can't decide if I like you better with or without clothes."

"I'm glad she designed your outfit to show more of your beautiful pelt in all the right places. I never got why so many designers garb your people in those stuffy trench coats. Less is so much more." Kaleb turned around and kissed her on the nose.

She then rested her head on his shoulder asked him in a soft voice. "Soo what were you talking to my sire about?"

"Nothing of any importance to you."

"Sure. I'll bet."

Kaleb quickly changed the subject, hoping it would provide some sort of distraction. "So what did you think of those books on human marriage and stuff?"

Amalthia pulled out several books from a burlap sack that she used for a shopping bag. As she laid them across the bed, she and Kaleb examined each one.

"The norn ones are particularly interesting. Asura are just a bit too techie for my taste, but to each their own," she shrugged.

"And the human ones?" Kaleb looked her in the eyes hoping for some kind of reaction.

"I'm sure I'll grow to become fond of them once I learn more about them. For myself, I 'm fine if we have no ritual at all. But since we are meshing our respective cultures together, I'm more than happy to adapt my way of thinking," Amalthia said as she perused through one of the books.

"There is one book that does describe a time when you people did perform bonding rituals for mated pairs. I think it's found somewhere in chapter twenty."

After they put away their books and disrobed from their outfits, the pair curled up together after their long and busy day. Kaleb gently stroked Amalthia's ears as she rolled over on her back then looked into his deep brown eyes and smiled.

"I'm glad Fredricka has found a good home. I haven't seen my sire so happy to have a companion once more in his life."

"Yeah. They took to each other right away. I'm glad your dad and I are now squared on things. I just wish the same could be said for my own family."

She caressed the side of his face and gave him a gentle kiss on the lips. "Like I said before, you needn't beat yourself up over that. I'm sure that in time, you and your parents will be able to make amends."

"I sure hope so. Anyway, I'm glad that my buddies are coming into town this weekend."

Kaleb rested on his back, closed his eyes and let out a sigh of relief.

"And don't forget my warband. They will be joining too yanno."

"I can't wait!" Kaleb said as his eyes became heavy with sleep.

The lovers would soon share their unique story with each of their respective friends during the upcoming weekend. In the end, they were both glad that they no longer had to carry their relationship in secret.

Soon, the entire world would know of how a human and a charr had found love with each other.

(All chapters have been posted to AO3. Chapter 26 is posted here.)

[imagines-dreams]

First Meeting(s) - Tom Holland Imagine

Rating: G

Warnings: meet-cute, budding feelings

Summary: Stacy, an intern at Stark Industries, is told to give Peter Parker some pictures from his Germany “trip.” / You are auditioning for the role of Stacy in the Marvel Cinematic Universe. During your last callback, you have to do a chemistry read with Tom Holland.

Word Count: 1774

Notes: So this might be a series??? Idk, I had an idea, I ran with it. Sorry if it’s a mess, also I wrote this for a poc!reader, but I’m not sure if I mentioned anything specific

~ - ~

You smiled. “Hi, I’m looking for Peter Parker. I was told he’d be here for Academic Decathlon practice.”

The young man nodded. “Yes, he’s right over there.”

“He might quit though!” One of the girls shouted. “You never know.”

“He did quit band,” another one added. When everyone looked at her with knowing eyes, she only raised an eyebrow. “I’m observant.”

You tilted your head. “What can you observe about me then?”

She tilted her head and looked you up and down. “Type A, private school, intern.”

“You can call me Stacy.”

“Michelle.”

“Anyway, Peter?”

“That’s, uh, me. I’m Peter.” He looked shorter in pictures. His layers of clothing hid the superhero muscle you knew was underneath. His backpack was on the floor, and if anyone stared closely enough, it wasn’t a standard backpack. It wasn’t the patches or the pins that made it special. No, it was the plastered web fluid on the corner, perhaps from a misfire or leftover from when he webs it to walls. 

You cleared your throat and as you walked to Peter you purposely brushed your foot against the misplaced webs to smear it, turning it effectively into a smudge or stain. 

You handed Peter the folder. “Ms. Potts told me to give this to you.”

“Ms. Potts?” Peter took the folder and smiled at it. “What is it? Why-”

“Pictures,” you said. “From the last intern conference.”

He blinked a few times, and for a split second, you could see Peter’s face contort in confusion. There was no such thing as a Stark intern conference. With one look at you and your tale-telling expression, he nodded. “Yeah, yeah the, uh, conference, that I was at. With you, of course. Cause you’re also an intern.”

“Yes, in the research department,” you helped.

“Yeah!” He laughed. “And I met you at the conference...”

You laughed. “Stacy.”

“Right, Stacy. I remember that.”

You laughed. “You know, for a Stark mentee, you have pretty bad memory.”

“I’m just trying my best.” Peter shrugged.

“Hey, it’s all good. We all are.” You leaned in close to whisper. “You might wanna not leave webs on your backpack, though.”

Peter’s eyes widened. He leaned down and whispered back, “You, uh, saw webs on my backpack? That’s, I mean, that’s insane.”

“Mhm.” You tilted your head. “Mr. Stark told me about what you do for your internship.” Peter Parker held his breath, but you just smiled. “Helping out at the Avengers Compound must be exciting.”

“You know, you don’t have to help Parker,” another boy said, a smug smirk on his face. “We know his Stark internship is boring as hell. Not to mention, he’d probably never meet any of the Avengers.”

“Hm.” You hummed and held out your hand. Peter put the envelope in your hands. “Do you mind, Peter?”

“Not really. What are you-”

You opened the envelope and grabbed the first picture. A printed picture of Peter with Black Widow. She was staring at the camera, clearly amused by Peter’s attempt to get a selfie with her. As you suspected, Peter wasn’t in the suit. It was after whatever happened in Berlin. So, his eye was forming a bruise, if you looked very closely, but he had this infectious smile, so it was easy to overlook. 

Almost. You couldn’t believe that the kid you just met, that stuttering, clumsy kid, was Spider-Man. How could a fifteen-year-old do all this? Sure, you had a similar-ish schedule. But your internship was in the research department. You reviewed simple calculations and offered an idea or two. Sometimes, you got to see Ms. Potts walk through the hallways. She said hi to you once.

You squealed when she left.

Those were your exciting moments. 

Peter’s exciting moments was fighting other superheroes and chasing bad guys and swinging through New York.

You glanced at Peter. That kid with a nervous smile was really something.

“Black Widow?!” screeched the kid with that smug look on his face. Well, he had a smug look on his face. It dropped when he saw that Peter really had met the Avengers. He reached out for the envelope, but you pulled them away and handed them back to Peter. “Sorry, here you go.”

He laughed. “That was amazing.”

“It was nothing.” You glanced at that annoying kid, and you couldn’t help but giggle that escaped your lips. “Plus, that was really satisfying, not gonna lie.”

“Still,” Peter insisted, “I could never do that.”

You scoffed. “Please! I know you do braver things.” 

He laughed and looked around, as if trying to hide the fact that his cheeks were turning a slight pink. “I, uh, I mean… not with that.” He shrugged. “I don’t know.” 

You nudged him. “Hey, don’t worry about it. But, if you ever wanna talk, they call me Stacy. And I intern in the labs at Stark Tower. My boss is really nice and lets me take breaks when I need it, or if a friend visits.”

Peter nodded. “I might swing by.”

Your jaw dropped. “Did you just-” You hit him again. “I hate you. I rescind my offer.” You picked up your things. 

Peter laughed. “Hey, what? That was uncalled for! Stace!”

You laughed. “See ya, Peter.” You saluted him with two fingers and left for your internship. Couldn’t leave precious biotech sims and cell cultures by themselves after all.

~ - ~

Tom was stunned for a moment. You were good. You held this confident air around you when you played Gwen. Sure, other girls have too, but you did it with such grace. At that moment, he could see the entire franchise’s span with him and you on the posters. Sure, you didn’t look like the Gwen Stacy from the comics, but you were her in every sense. Sharp, clever, graceful, kind. 

Your eyes met his. When Tom didn’t say anything, you looked through the script. “Sorry, is it my line?”

“No!” He cleared his throat. “Uh, you did a great job.”

You sighed. “Oh, good.” You laughed. “Thank you. You did a great job, too.”

“Alright, thank you, (Y/n). If you got the part, you should get a call from us within the next two weeks.”

You nodded. “Thank you so much for the opportunity.” You shook hands with Sarah Finn and Jon Watts. Then, you smiled at Tom and held out you hand. “And it was nice meeting you, Tom.”

“Yeah, yeah, you too.” He shook your hand. “Hopefully, we can see each other soon.”

“Definitely.”

Just as you approached your car, the man you played opposite of ran outside of the building and called your name. 

You rubbed your tired eyes and smiled. “Yes?”

“Sorry, uh,” Tom stuttered as he tried to catch his breath. You assumed it was from running, but in truth, the actor was just trying to compose himself long enough to talk to you without sounding like an incoherent mess. So, Tom shook his head and stood up straight. “Sorry, I just forgot to ask for your number.”

You blinked a few times. “Right. Of course, you need my number.” He did not need your number, but you were too tired, and perhaps you were supposed to swap numbers. It must’ve slipped your mind. He handed his phone to you, and you typed in your number. 

“Uh, thanks. So sorry about that,” Tom apologized again.

You shrugged. “No problem. It’s nice meeting you.” You laughed. “Again.”

“Yes. Lovely meeting you.” He smiled. “Well, I can’t keep you. Have a nice day.”

“You, too.”

It wasn’t until a few weeks later, much after the two-week deadline, did you realize that Tom was too fit to be out of breath from a very short run. So, that meant there was another reason why the actor wasn’t his calm self. He did gaze at you after the scene had finished. Was it possible…

No. It wasn’t. And even if it was, it didn’t matter. You weren’t going to see him again.

And even if you and he crossed paths again for another project or for an awards show, you were both actors. Cameras and gossip magazines took your privacy away. It’d be too complicated. So, no use in thinking about it.

Your phone rang. The area code was familiar. Maybe it was another open audition. You answered, “Hello, (Y/n) (Y/l/n) speaking,” and grabbed your planner just in case.

“Hi, it’s Tom.”

“Oh, hi!” You smiled widely at the sound of his voice. When you realized it, you pursed your lips. “Uh, what is it?”

“I just wanted to congratulate you!”

Congratulate you? On what? 

The pen fell from your hands. He couldn’t mean. You hadn’t received a call from the casting director. Or your agent yet. “Congratulate me?” you gasped.

“Oh, uh, check your messages.”

“My what?”

“Check your texts. I sent you something.”

You opened his text to find a link. You clicked on it. It read, “The New Cast of Spider-Man: Homecoming - What We Know”. First, a paragraph on Tom Holland and his reprise of his role as Spider-Man. Then, Zendaya who was casted but no details on the person she plays. Jacob Batalon playing Ned, RDJ playing Tony Stark, Marisa Toomes as Aunt May, Jon Favreau as Happy Hogan, and then your name. 

“New and upcoming actress, (Y/n) (Y/l/n) has been cast, but little is known about the character she will play. While Laura Harrier has been confirmed to be Liz Allen, the popular teenager Peter can’t stop thinking about, there is no indication of whether or not (Y/l/n) will be a major character in the film.”

“I got the part,” you whispered. You were cast. That meant that you were given the role you auditioned for. Oh god, you were going to be Stacy!

“I got the part!” you screamed.

“Yeah, you did!” Tom shouted. “Congratulations! You deserve it!”

“Oh my god!” You laughed and shouted, “I’m Gwen Stacy!”

Tom laughed. “Sh!” he teased. “Spoilers!”

You pressed your hand against your chest as if that could calm your racing heart. “Oh, god, I can’t believe this.”

“Really? Your audition was perfect.” He sighed. “I can’t wait to start working with you.”

Working with Tom Holland, the new Spider-Man. It was a dream come true. It didn’t matter how he looked at you when your scene was done or how handsome he was, you were going to part of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, with an amazing leading man and cast. No matter what happened, this was going to change your life. 

With a dreamy smile, you admitted, “I can’t wait either.”

~ - ~

Am I posting this super late? Yes. Do I have any idea what to do from here? Kinda??? I mean, I don’t even know if this is a good idea, or something from my tea-infused, late-night brain, so very sorry if this sucks. I may or may not continue it. If you want me to write more (I have no clue why you would), please give me ideas??? maybe???

Anyway, thanks for reader, and have a wonderful day, readers!

[dippedanddripped]

Watching Aminé’s “Caroline” music video can evoke vivid high school memories of the days when a freshly minted driver’s license conferred upon its holder the freedom to meet up with friends and do anything — or nothing. The video, like the song, is bubbly and carefree; it documents Aminé and his friends riding around town in a Honda Sedan stocked to the gills with bananas, lounging around in the grass, and watching each other play video games. In that 2016 summer of #BlackBoyJoy in hip-hop (when Chance the Rapper, Lil Yachty, D.R.A.M., Anderson .Paak, Rae Sremmurd, MadeinTYO, and Desiigner also flourished), “Caroline” went quadruple-platinum and helped make Aminé the first rapper ever from Portland, Oregon to become a national star.

The video for “Shimmy,” the lead single from Aminé’s forthcoming album Limbo, is a collage of Portland-specific flexes, a tribute to how far he’s come. He cheeses for the cameras while flanked by a phalanx of lawyers and dances midfield at Providence Park. He stands, perhaps symbolically, on the roof of Mike’s Drive-In (the burger joint where “Caroline” was shot) and trades the Honda for a speedboat zooming up the Willamette River.

Just as importantly, “Shimmy” is a subtle homage to the heavily gentrified areas of northeast Portland, where Aminé — born Adam Daniel to Ethiopian and Eritrean immigrants — grew up. In the video, he meets up with other members of the Portland rap scene plus Yosief Berhe and Jonathan Ressom, his two friends who co-star in all of his videos, to bike en masse down NE Alberta Street. He stops by Kee’s, a popular soul food truck, and heads to Woodlawn Park, his old stomping grounds located a few blocks from his childhood home.

“Woodlawn is the neighborhood that I grew up in,” he tells Highsnobiety over Zoom. “It used to be very much a part of the Black community. It’s kind of turned into a hipster park now, but it’s definitely the first place I got jumped. The first place I had my first fight in. Woodlawn represents a lot of good memories for me and my friends. Like our innocent adolescence.”

Rapid gentrification continues to gut Portland’s Black community, which accounts for less than six percent of the city’s total population. Aminé alluded to the transformation of Woodlawn on his 2017 song “Turf”: “Flipping through my past like I used to flip the phone / They kicking out the Blacks and all the houses getting clones.”

“The gentrification is insane,” he says. “I used to have only Black neighbors. And now my parents only live next to white people. The only reason my parents are still on that block is because, you know, I pay for everything. But it’s not the same for a lot of Black people in Portland.”

His friends Yosief and Jonathan echo this sentiment during a phone interview: “You’re getting chains of dispensaries on the same corners where police would try to nail people for weed,” Jonathan says. “I can go in there, and it’s gonna be a girl in a skirt giving me a dub. Meanwhile, no lie, like six, seven years ago, homies getting locked up doing the same shit on that same corner.”

“People in Portland sometimes have the right intentions,” Yosief adds. “But it really irks my nerves when I go down Mississippi or Albina or through historically Black neighborhoods, and it’s 85 percent white. All the houses have Black Lives Matter signs on the lawn but displaced a bunch of Black families to be there. It’s unfortunate.”

Limbo arrives four years into Aminé’s tenure as a major-label rapper, at a point where he’s established himself, but is still unsure of where to go or how to proceed with his career. “The title came from where I’m at in my life,” he explains. “There are two meanings behind it. I feel like I grew up thinking that once I achieved one level, the next level would be easier to achieve. But as I’ve grown, I’ve come to realize that with every level that I achieve, every level gets harder, just like the game of limbo. It just doesn’t seem to change for me, and it’s honestly made me feel like I’m completely in limbo. I thought the older I get, the wiser I’d get. But I’m figuring it out.”

Bittersweet nostalgia for high school and college years has been a recurring theme in Aminé’s music. In this sense, Limbo picks up where his 2017 debut album Good For You left off. Co-executive produced by Aminé and “Caroline” producer Pasque, it features one song that is entirely dedicated to Woodlawn Park, another to Aminé’s mother. Other songs, including his recent release “RiRi,” wistfully revisit past romances that sputtered. That era, which saw the first, fitful yawns of Aminé’s music career, is fertile terrain for storytelling. “I miss being naïve. I miss hoping, not knowing what your future was looking like,” he told Pigeons & Planes earlier this year. “Just being in your room in college, broke as hell.”

Aminé’s rap career began in the booth of Benson High’s radio broadcasting program, where he and his friends once rapped over Flockaveli beats. “Then we actually realized that Adam was pretty good,” Yosief tells us. He spent summers in New York, working youth camps in the Bronx and holding down internships at Complex and Def Jam — staying with his aunt in Harlem, eating plain leftover rice out of her fridge when food money inevitably got low. After high school, he started putting out mixtapes into a localized scene that Pasque describes as “stuck in the golden age.” Casual co-signs from Damian Lillard (who came to a show) and Kaytranada (who sent free beats) were good omens that also helped him stand out. All the while, he matriculated at Portland State University and lived at home with his parents. PSU is where he met Pasque, and where they made “Caroline.”

“We found out about this classroom inside of the music building that was always left unlocked,” Pasque says. “We had a schedule. I would go to work, and then after I clocked out, I would go immediately to school and work on music all night, basically. And it was like that for about five or six months. And then, eventually, it got to the point where we had a good amount of music, and our manager, Justin, was like, ‘You guys gotta put something out.’ We decided to put out ‘Caroline.’ And after that, it was no looking back.”

“I remember him putting out these little mixtapes, trying to get stuff retweeted, putting freaking fliers on corners, and [getting help from] all our friends in Portland,” Yosief says. “The slow grind. I remember Adam was trending [on Twitter] just in Portland, and it was like a big-ass deal. I remember him having like 1,000, 2,000 views on SoundCloud, to him going like, ‘Hey, this song got two million plays on Spotify, we’re about to make a music video for it.’ All of us still broke.”

Weeks after “Caroline” came out and started racking up gaudy streaming numbers, Vevo offered to fly Aminé out to New York to record a video performance of the single. He was in his senior year, and the video shoot conflicted with a finance final, but he decided to go anyways.

“I literally was told that if I failed this final, I would fail the class. So, I was like, ‘I don’t give a fuck.’ I just didn’t care,” he says. “I hated college. I knew it wasn’t for me, but I still kept doing it because I have strict African parents that I lived with. There was no other alternative for me to live under [their roof] without going to school.”

Aminé’s affable, low-key charm and new deal with Republic Records facilitated his smooth entry into the mainstream. The summer after “Caroline” blew up, Malia Obama requested to meet him after his set at Lollapalooza, and Young Thug called him a “young legend” backstage at a European music festival. “I didn’t even know if [Thug] knew who I was,” he says. He relocated to Los Angeles, where he has lived a charmed life, ensconced in a network of the city’s coolest, smartest, and most famous young artists. Late last year, Issa Rae — who co-starred in his 2017 “Spice Girl” video — asked him to guest star in Insecure as a dumb guy named Darnell. “I moved to LA just because, like, half of the features I get are just because me and the homies are in the studio,” Aminé explains. “Like, I can text Vince [Staples] and he’ll pull up to the studio. Money can’t buy timing. That’s pretty much the only reason I’m here.”

Still, to a great extent, Aminé strives for anonymity rather than celebrity. “When people want to go to, like, 1 OAK, or the club, I’d rather just go to a small bar with a couple of my good friends and chill,” he says. He adds that “normal things” have helped him stay sane during quarantine — like meeting friends in the park with food, or his morning ritual of smoking a joint and walking his 11-month-old goldendoodle Oliver.

This aversion to the limelight extends to his relationship with Portland, where he is something of a modern cultural icon. He doesn’t go out to restaurants with his parents anymore, for the sake of their privacy. He expresses his hope that he could signal boost Portland’s Black businesses and the city’s overall profile in the music industry, rather than don the cape of Captain Portland: “I’m just such an indoor person, and I don’t love that kind of pressure on me. Like, I was never really prepared for this type of career.”

Aminé intends to eventually build a massive compound in Portland, with a studio and acres of land. It’s likely to happen one day — just don’t hold him to it. Public expectations can be dangerous. “The main thing to take away from [this album] is, I’m still just a guy figuring it out,” he says. “I don’t have the answers. And I don’t want fans to look at me for every answer. I’m just a guy, literally. I’m just in limbo.”

Limbo is out August 7 via Republic. Pre-order the record here.

[chasholidays]

Clarke texts Bellamy terrible things she's cooking, such as Gatorade rice

how do people cook

The sound of the text notification pulls Bellamy away from the papers he’s grading, and he rubs his face, trying to figure out what time it is and how long he’s been at this. He signed up to TA for a summer term, which was a good idea for his finances and resume, but the professor seems to think of him as nothing but a machine that grades and answers emails, which isn’t good for anyone, pedagogically speaking.

He figures out, from studying his phone for a second that, one, he’s been grading for three straight hours and, two, Clarke is doing that “not using punctuation makes me look casual” thing again when she texts, even though she doesn’t know how to turn off autocorrect, so she has to manually uncapitalize her letters, which is the opposite of casual.

Me: Cook what?Or are you just wondering how it’s possible that people cook?

Clarke: both i guessi did not do well with dinner

She attaches an image of a very undercooked pork chop covered in what looks like paper mache; he’s not sure what she was trying to make, but it’s safe to say she didn’t make it.

Me: I can tell you cooked parts of it

Clarke: yeah?which partsbe specific

Me: The part of the meat that isn’t pinkWhat were you going for?

Clarke: artichoke stuffed pork chops

Me: For your first meal ever?

Clarke: it looked easy!!what are you up to?

Me: [image]Grading for the rest of my life apparently

Clarke: aren’t summer classes supposed to be easier?did I make that up?

Me: You did, yeahThey’re shorter and more intenseAnd this one is writing intensive so Diyoza has them turning in papers every dayAnd has me grading all of them

Clarke: good thing you don’t have a social life or that would really suck

Me: Thanks for understanding Did you start the new job yet?

Clarke: not yetnext weekbut this was when i could move into the new place so here i am

Me: How much effort are you putting into making your phone not capitalize the letter I

Clarke: i’m on my laptop right now so noneraven said my texting should be more casual if i was going to try online dating

Me: Did she tell you no capitals was casual? I think it’s more of a tone thingAnd are you trying online dating?

Clarke: trying or trying to try i guessworking on my profile now

Me: I don’t know why you’d want to be someone you’re not in online datingIf using capitals and punctuation makes someone not to date you, that’s a good sign you guys wouldn’t be good togetherAnd plenty of people like following stylistic rules

Clarke: do you have a source on that

Me: I do and I’m pretty sure you doSo that’s twoAlso I’m grading right now and I’m struggling not to correct all the errors in your texts

Clarke: OopsSorry

Me: Why online dating?

Clarke: Because it feels like the logical thingI’ve been single for a while, I’m in a new city with no real social group, I don’t want to date coworkersSo if I sign up for an app, I’m at least trying

Me: Yeah, that makes senseI’m just planning to die alone

Clarke: PleaseYou cough and people fall over themselves asking if you’re single

Me: Which is a fetish demographic I don’t care about appealing to so yeahDying alone

Clarke: [eyeroll]At least you can cook

Me: I’ll send you some easy recipes when I get homeBut yeah for now maybe just order a pizza

Clarke: Already done[screenshot]ETA twenty minutes

Me: GoodOkay, I need to finish this and get dinner tooBut keep me posted on the cookingMaybe send me pictures of meat before you eat it so I can approve it

Clarke: So if you’re away from your phone for a minute I can’t eat?

Me: Safety firstI’ll send recipes tonight

*

Bellamy met Clarke Griffin the first day of junior year, when they were moving into the dorms. She had the room directly above his, and for the first few weeks they had an ongoing pitched conflict because she was loud and he was trying to study, but then she broke up with her girlfriend who always wore heels. Bellamy made an asshole comment about how her new shoes were a huge improvement, Clarke snapped back that they weren’t her shoes, and suddenly they were bonding about being queer–bi in her case, pan in his–and breakups and school, and before he knew it, they were friends, and then best friends, and then one afternoon she smiled at him in the library and he realized he was in love.

In theory, they also should have been finishing college and going into the world at the same time, but he was in the BA-to-MA history program, so he had an extra year at school while Clarke moved home for a couple weeks before finding a job in Boston.

And now she’s texting him about cooking fails and online dating and he misses her more than he can stand.

“You could just tell her that,” Roan suggests. Roan is in the history PhD program and his mother knows Clarke’s mother, which means that he has seen Bellamy and Clarke together for more than ten minutes and therefore knows that Bellamy has a thing for her. That seems to be the standard amount of time it takes people to figure it out. “I miss you and I want to try long distance. People do that.”

“I’m aware that long-distance relationships are a thing, yeah.”

“I couldn’t tell if you were aware that relationships were something that you could be involved in, or if you just thought they happened to other people.”

“They do just happen to other people,” he says. “They’re not happening to me.”

“Which is shocking, considering you’re hung up on a woman you won’t talk to and turn down every offer that doesn’t come from her. Truly, your singleness is a mystery.”

His phone buzzes with a text from Clarke–Why are there so many kinds of olive oil? Why do I care how much sex my olives have had? Purity culture is out of control–and he waves the phone at Roan. “We’re talking right now.”

“I’m just saying, complaining that she’s not dating you when you’ve put zero effort into getting her to date you isn’t particularly sympathetic. You could at least try asking her.”

I don’t actually know why it’s called that but most recipes want extra virgin, he texts back quickly, then adds, How do you not have olive oil?

“I don’t even know what I’m going to be doing after this,” he says, turning his attention back to Roan. “If I want to go on to get my PhD or what.”

“Because you couldn’t possibly get your PhD in Boston.”

“I know.” He sighs. “I’m not mad she’s doing online dating. If she finds someone, I’m not going to be a dick about it. But I’m not going to tell her to wait for me or whatever.”

“Are you sure you understand what long distance means?” he asks, dry.

“I’m not ready to tell her yet,” he admits. “If that means I miss my chance–” He shrugs. “Then it sucks to be me.”

“Not the attitude I’d take, but I suppose I can’t stop you. I wouldn’t tell you to do this,” he adds, “if I didn’t think it would end well for you.”

“I know.” He taps the rim his mug, thinking it over. It’s weird, confiding in Roan, of all people, but he’s never willing to start conversations about his stupid crush, and Roan’s one of the few people who actually asks. So here they are. “I’m waiting to see if it lasts. Maybe with her gone, it’ll just go away. And if that happens, I don’t want to be dating her when it does.”

“There’s some logic to that,” Roan admits. “Not necessarily convincing logic, but logic nonetheless. Still, if you were dating her, I don’t think it would just fade away like that.”

“Maybe. Maybe I’ll decide I want to tell her.”

Roan raises his coffee. “I’m rooting for you.”

“Thanks,” says Bellamy, with a smile. “Means the world to me.”

*

Bellamy is working on his own dinner when his phone buzzes with a picture from Clarke. He was expecting meat, but based on the preview picture it’s something else, something much weirder, and the follow-up message doesn’t really help.

Clarke: Trying something out

Bellamy: Yellow rice?

Clarke: Gatorade rice

Bellamy: What

Clarke: I’m making a rice bowl and it wanted me to season with lime juiceI forgot to buy lime juice but I do have lemon lime gatoradeSo I figured I could just replace the water when I was cooking the rice to get the flavor

Bellamy stares at the words for a second, his brain trying to protect him from the reality of what Clarke has done, but the words burrow in deep and refuse to leave.

He’s not sure he’s ever called her on the actual phone before, but he’s dialing before he can think better of it.

“It doesn’t taste that bad!” she says, in lieu of a greeting.

“What the fuck, Clarke.”

“What? I’ve seen Chopped, I know you can substitute things.”

“Yeah, but those are people who know how to cook. You’re going to burn down your apartment.”

“Plus my rice bowl tastes really weird,” she agrees. “But it got you to call me. How’s it going?”

“Pretty good. Summer semester’s over, so I’m done with grading for a while.”

“Still working at the coffee shop?”

“Yeah, picked up some extra hours. I’m actually making dinner right now.”

“Yeah?” she asks, brightening. “What are you making?”

“Nothing very exciting. It’s hot so I didn’t want to cook and I had some leftover chicken, so I’m making chicken salad.”

“How did you learn to cook? I always knew you could, but now that I’m trying to do it myself I really don’t get how you got the skillset.”

“O’s dad was a good cook,” he says, trying the chicken salad and adding a little more salt and pepper. “I used to like helping him. After he died, my mom didn’t have time to cook, so I took over. He had cookbooks and stuff, but there was definitely a learning curve.”

“I think I just don’t have the cooking instinct.”

“You cooked rice in gatorade, so yeah, I agree,” he teases.

“It could have been really good!”

“Uh huh. The instincts develop,” he adds. “You make chicken and figure out what spices you like with chicken, you figure out what tastes good and use more of it.”

“You put gatorade in your rice.”

“You learn not to do that.” He grabs bread and sticks it in the toaster. “Do you have a rice cooker?”

“My roommate does, she said I could borrow it as long as I clean it. I’m going to clean it really well.”

“You better. How is she? As a roommate.”

He imagines her shrugging in the short pause, can almost see her doing it. “Fine. I honestly don’t see her much, we have totally different schedules. Any time we’re actually home together we make awkward small talk and then she goes into her room and closes the door.”

“Honestly, that could be a lot worse. She could want to be your best friend.”

“Yeah, god forbid anyone wanted to be friends with me,” she teases.

“How’s that going, by the way? The whole friends thing?”

“It’s going. I went out for drinks with my coworkers, they’re cool.”

“Any dates?”

“Not yet. What about you? Still just hanging out with Roan?”

“For now, but once fall semester starts up I’ll have other friends.”

“Really?”

“Hopefully.”

She laughs. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too. I wish I was there to keep you from putting gatorade in your rice.”

The words seem a little awkward as soon as they’re out of his mouth, but Clarke just says, “I wish you were here so you could taste it.”

“Never mind, I don’t wish I was there anymore. Did you try any of the recipes I sent you?”

“I did the chicken alfredo pasta, it came out pretty well. And I want to do the chili tomorrow. I was going to have it with more of the rice.”

“If you eat my chili with gatorade rice, never tell me.”

“You can follow my instagram. I think I’m going to be big.”

“What is it? Clarke Cooks Crap?”

There’s a pause. “It wasn’t, but it is now.”

“You’re really going to make that, aren’t you?”

“I’m registering as we speak.”

“I can’t believe I have to sign up for instagram now,” he says, with a sigh.

“You don’t have to. I’ll text you everything.”

“Thanks for crossposting for me.”

“I know you hate social media.” She pauses again, finally says, “I should let you eat.”

“Yeah, I should definitely eat. But I’m free tonight if you want to Rabbit something.”

“I could definitely watch something. Give me like an hour and I’ll text you?”

“Sure, sounds good. Enjoy your rice.”

“I’ll send you pictures,” she says, and he gets one almost as soon as they hang up, Clarke with a big spoonful of yellow rice halfway to her mouth, with the caption exclusive content not for instagram.

He sends back a picture of his own sandwich labeled actually good food and grins for the rest of the night.

*

Bellamy never thought much about Clarke and cooking, but if he had, he would have assumed she would be one of those people who followed recipes to a T and googled things like how much is a splash of olive oil to make sure she was measuring out the correct amount.

Instead, every text she sends is something that she seems to have come up with herself specifically to horrify him. When she sends an orange blob with two white eyes, she explains that she couldn’t decide between sweet potatoes and regular, so she just mixed them together, setting aside two small balls to serve as the eyes. Which, okay, it’s probably not bad as combinations go, but Bellamy would use them as sides for two totally different meals. And that’s the best of them. She seems to delight in using gatorade as much as possible, in sauces and glazes, once in salad dressing. She’ll text him things like “out of milk can I just use cream mixed with water?” and “I only need one kind of vinegar, right? They’re all basically the same” and no matter what she says, she seems to think he’s saying yes.

“You haven’t cooked for anyone else, have you?” he asks. He’s taken to calling her after she sends him particularly concerning messages, which happens at least twice a week.

The crush isn’t going away; cooking nightmares seem to be a turn-on for him.

“I’m getting a lot better.”

“You asked if V8 was a replacement for vegetable stock.”

“It was on sale!”

“I’m just saying, you say it didn’t taste that bad and I don’t really trust you. I want a second opinion from someone else who’s tried your cooking.”

“My roommate ate some leftover chicken and I think she’s still alive.”

“Wow, glowing endorsement.”

“That’s the point of food, right? It keeps you alive.”

“Sure, Captain Holt.”

“Obviously you just have to come visit. I assume you’re going home for Christmas?”

“Yeah. I missed Thanksgiving so I figure I have to make Christmas. Spring break is still open.”

“In March?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s so much time for me to plan an all-gatorade meal.”

“All the greatest hits of your instagram together at last.”

She snorts. “Like you have any idea what my instagram’s greatest hits are.”

“I’m assuming the balsamic vinaigrette you made with white vinegar and red gatorade has to be up there.”

“I guess you’ll find out over spring break.”

It’s early December, so break is months and months away. He hadn’t even been planning to do anything, just take a week off and relax. Of course he wants to see Clarke, but he always wants to see Clarke. He hadn’t known how to just say to her, though, hadn’t wanted to invite himself over where he might not be welcome.

Now it’s all he can do to not book flights right away, to be cool and normal.

At least she can’t see how much he’s smiling.

“Yeah,” he says. “I guess I will.”

*

“So, I’m thinking I need to tell Clarke how I feel about her.”

To his surprise, Roan’s eyes narrow, and then he punches himself in the arm. “Ah, I’m not asleep.”

“You have dreams about my love life? I didn’t know you cared that much. I hoped you didn’t care that much.”

He waves his hand. “I dream about a lot of things. What changed your mind?”

“It’s been more than six months and I’m still in love with her. After I graduate, I want to be where she is and I want to be with her. So I should say something.”

“That’s what I’ve always thought. Congratulations.”

“Don’t congratulate me, I haven’t told her yet.”

“Honestly, at this point I’m proud of you for even thinking about it. I thought you might have given up.”

He probably would have, if he’s honest. He knows it’s not romantic, but if Clarke had graduated and they’d fallen out of touch, like he did with so many of his friends, he probably would have moved on. But not only have they not fallen out of touch, Clarke’s been reaching out too, keeping him in the loop with her cooking like he keeps her on the loop with classes. They’re both putting in the effort to not lose each other.

Hell, she’s texting him redundant content just because he doesn’t like Instagram. He could already get all of this stuff, but she sends it directly just to him so that he’ll call her.

He thinks he really might have a shot.

“I just don’t want to tell her over the phone, I guess. I want to make sure that once we’re in the same place again, it’s still good. Maybe I’m just really bad at reading tone over text.”

“As always, I will be shocked if Clarke doesn’t reciprocate your feelings before you’ve finished confessing them, but I assume it’s more difficult for you.”

Bellamy fixes him with a look. “Shouldn’t you know?”

“Know what?”

“Do you not bug Clarke about this? Why just me?”

“Clarke’s no fun.”

That does check out. Even her whimsical cooking is less fun and more terrifying. She’s probably really shitty to gossip with.

“So, you’re guessing but not sure.”

“Even if I wasn’t, she doesn’t text me meal updates. I haven’t talked to her since before graduation.”

“Well, I’ll let you know how it goes. I’m expecting you to hold me accountable if I don’t tell her.”

“I’ll text you for daily updates.”

“Terrifying, thanks.”

Roan shrugs. “All your favorite people seem to terrify you.”

It’s hard to deny. “What can I say? I’ve got a type.”

*

Clarke doesn’t meet him at the airport because it takes forever to get there on public transportation, so she tells him to just grab a cab and she’ll cover half the cost. It’s nicer than bringing his stuff on a couple of different trains, but he can’t help the waves of anxiety as he gets closer and closer to Clarke. It would have been nice to get over seeing her right away, to spend a long train ride talking to her, getting comfortable with her again. It was bad enough being on the plane, but now that he’s in her city it feels like they should just be together.

Once the cab lets him off, though, he still hesitates. All this time and all this way and he’s still not quite sure how to see her.

Then he takes a deep breath, marches to the door, and rings the buzzer.

She doesn’t unlock the door but comes down herself, the sight of her knocking the breath out of him for a second. She doesn’t look different, but she doesn’t need to. It’s not as if he wanted her to be different. She opens the door and pulls him into a hug and that’s everything.

“Hi,” he says, holding her close.

“Hi. Sorry I didn’t come meet you.”

“It’s okay. The cab was a lot easier.”

“Still. I feel like a bad host.”

He makes himself pull away, gives her a smile. “Don’t worry, it’s the all-gatorade meal that’s going to make you a bad host.”

She laughs. “That was the other reason to not come get you. I could get started on dinner.”

His stomach drops. “I figured that was later in the week. We aren’t going out tonight? I’ll pay.”

“Nope.”

She unlocks the door and he follows her up the stairs, trying to figure out what to say. “What are you expecting from me?” he finally asks.

“Sorry?”

“Honest reaction, or–”

She flashes him a smile over her shoulder. “I’m not expecting you to pretend gatorade rice is good, Bellamy.”

It’s a deliberate answer, for all her expression is easy, but she opens the door before he can formulate a response and he’s hit with the overwhelming, mouthwatering scent of roasting chicken.

Clarke’s cooking, and it smells amazing.

“Um,” he says, and she grins.

“You really don’t follow my instagram, huh?”

“No. Am I supposed to?”

“No. But if you did, you’d know that I’m actually getting pretty good at the cooking thing. You’re the only one who sees my gatorade experiments.”

“You’re doing real cooking,” he says, brain still catching up.

“Using the recipes you sent me, and then the Internet. I signed up for Hello Fresh, that was really helpful. It kind of sucked to cook for just myself, but I had you and instagram, so it worked out.”

“Did you actually eat all the stuff you sent me?”

“At least some of it. Honestly, I think it helped. Seeing how different ingredients changed the taste, what worked and what didn’t. Honing my instincts, like you said.”

“So gatorade rice made you a better cook.”

She looks nervous for the first time. “I guess you’re going to find out.”

He offers to help, but she waves him off, tells him to relax while she finishes up. Instead, he wanders around the apartment, checking out the decorations, guessing what belongs to Clarke and what belongs to her mysterious roommate, and then settles against the counter, quizzing her on her job and the city, getting updates he mostly already have.

They really do talk a lot. It’s nice.

“So, roasted chicken, what else? Mashed potatoes?”

She grins. “Potatoes and sweet potatoes. It’s actually really good! It adds some good texture and flavor.”

“Looking forward to it,” he says, and she looks so happy he almost kisses her right then.

Of course, she did spend months planning an elaborate surprise about how she really can cook just to troll him, so she probably wouldn’t mind if he did kiss her.

But it can wait until after dinner. She worked so hard. And he’s really excited to try everything.

Clarke doesn’t really have a dining room table–the apartment is small and space is limited–so they take their plates over to the coffee table and settle in. Given the setting, it’s not quite adult, but it’s a real meal, and an amazing one. Even the potatoes work.

“I can’t believe you were holding out on me,” he says.

“Deliberately deceiving you,” she corrects.

“For the big reveal?”

“Yup. As long as you never found my instagram, it was going to be fine.”

“Is it actually Clarke Cooks Crap?”

She looks down. “No, it’s Cooking 101 with Cara. Clarke’s pretty distinctive, I didn’t want anyone to know it was me unless I told them.”

“So I couldn’t have found the instagram even if I went looking for it, huh?”

“You could now.”

There’s something purposeful in her tone, like she’s daring him, and he wants to, but–

“After dinner. And I’m cleaning up, since you cooked.”

She smiles. “There’s dessert, too.”

“You really went all out.”

“I’m really happy to see you.”

“I’m really happy to see you too.” He clears his throat. “Did I tell you I’m looking for jobs here after graduation?”

“You know you didn’t.”

“I didn’t. I wanted to tell you in person.”

“Like me and the cooking.”

He has to smile. “Kind of, yeah.”

“Any good prospects yet?”

They’re done with food, so he fills her in on the research he’s been doing on the places he’s been looking for openings, the applications he’s working on. There’s no sign she’s anything but thrilled with the news, and Bellamy lets himself–quietly, tentatively, slowly–start to believe that this could be his life. Living with Clarke here, making dinner and doing the dishes and talking about the little details of his life that don’t make it into phone calls.

“What was the instagram again?” he asks, once the dishwasher is loaded and running. It seems more pressing than dessert; there’s something on there Clarke wants him to see.

“Cooking 101 with Cara,” she says. “The username is caracooks101.”

“Cara with a C?”

“Yeah.”

He plugs it into his phone, finds the account. The style is familiar–all of Clarke’s awful meals are photographed perfectly, taking full advantage of her art minor–but the actual content is completely new, even knowing she was lying to him. She’s made a lot, and all of it looks amazing. He scans a little, just taking it in, but then he scrolls back up to the top, where there’s an image of what looks like today’s meal, the chicken ready to go into the oven.

Okay, wish me luck, the caption reads, when he clicks it. B’s coming over, so it’s time to see if the way to a man’s heart really is through his stomach. Which is shitty and heteronormative, but whatever. I’m bi, I can like a boy. And I’m hoping he likes chicken.

Clarke is watching him, nervous, and all he can do is laugh. “Roan’s supposed to text me every day at two to ask if I’ve asked you out yet.”

She laughs too, all relief. “That was your plan?”

“He can be very annoying.”

“He can.”

“I’m so in love with you,” he admits. “I have been for years. I’ve missed you so much, I–”

She kisses him, which is nice for a lot of reasons, including, of course, that they’re kissing, and she’s warm and close and has apparently been sharing her food-based seduction plan on instagram for almost a year. She’s been putting in so much effort he almost feels bad for not trying harder himself.

But he’s got time to make it up to her.

“Are you ready for dessert?” she murmurs.

“Is that a euphemism?”

She bites his bottom lip. “Nope. I made red-gatorade popsicles. With real fruit flavors.”

He collapses against her shoulder, laughing so hard he feels like he might never recover. “Fuck,” he manages. “I love you.”

“I know,” she says. “So, dessert?”

“Please.”

And somehow, it really is the best thing he’s ever eaten. His girlfriend’s got a gift.

[eorzean-tale]

Prompt #16 Bond

This is part 2 of my lore series, where I try and analyze some of the tidbits of info we got from Encyclopaedia Eorzea, volume II. This series only focuses on the Seeker of the Sun M-tribe lore, particularly four of its characters that were highlighted in the book and shared in the BRPN Discord. For this part, I’m going to look at the bond between a nunh and his tribe.There will be spoilers from the lorebook below the cut, so be warned.

Part 2 M’rahz Nunh

From Encyclopaedia Eorzea, volume II:

“There was a time when I was the weakest of the males in the M Tribe. It wasn’t easy, but through rigorous training, I eventually grew to become the man you see before you.” M’rahz was only three and twenty when he bested his predecessor in a duel and replaced him as nunh, a breeding male. While that was an impressive feat in its own right, the Seeker of the Sun would be the first to acknowledge that the harder part was still to come. In the early days, it seemed as though he could please none of the womenfolk, but pain proved an effective teacher and he quickly honed his sensitivity to the needs of others. Over the next twenty-seven years, he has protected his people as both a husband and a father. A challenging task at the best of times, it was only made more difficult when the Empire invaded two decades ago. With their hunting grounds shrinking and food growing scarcer by the season, many hard decisions had to be made. And the hardest one of all was that which saw his dear friend and fellow nunh, M’aht, leave the village behind. Owing to their history, he harbors a fondness for M’zhet, M’aht’s spirited son.

Let’s talk about his quote first. It seems that Rahz refers refers to his own people as ‘the M Tribe’ and not the Marmot Tribe. The use of the word ‘tribe’ also suggests that they are the only group of Marmots out there. In RP, we often speak of septs, sects, pacts, or whatever else, to indicate that there isn’t just one group of that tribe and everyone can play their Seeker Miqo’te as they like, even if they share the same tribal letter. As this is not done here, one might wonder if all M Tribe Miqo’te can only be from this particular group.

I personally do not think that is the case, and that they used these terms to not confuse people. Not everyone might know that the M stands for the Marmot totem, and not everyone will realize that tribes might have split off into different groups at some point in their history. I would like to see more acknowledgement of these different groups of the same tribe at some point, but I suppose we should be happy about getting any kind of lore about Seekers at this point :P

Note that he also uses the terms ‘males’ and ‘man’, indicating that, yes, some Seekers will refer to men as males. It’s an easy term to pick up if you want to give your character that extra bit of ‘tribal flavour’.

Next: becoming nunh

They then focus on him beating his predecessor in a duel at the tender age of 23 and that that was a pretty impressive feat. So the weakest male managed to climb to the top of the combat ranks at the tender age of 23… That training must have been really rigorous indeed.

It makes me wonder how the runt became the master in such a relatively short amount of time, and if the other tia didn’t train just as hard. It doesn’t seem to be normal to be able to defeat a nunh so early on, as they make a point out of calling it an impressive feat. I suppose they want to show how hard he had to work for it, but personally I wouldn’t have minded it if they had made him a little older. 

It’s followed up by this quote:

In the early days, it seemed as though he could please none of the womenfolk, but pain proved an effective teacher and he quickly honed his sensitivity to the needs of others.

Uh, pain? As in.. physical? Did they beat him up? Or did he hurt a lot of the women by just being an insensitive dick? Or did they hurt him? While I like that they emphasize the need for a nunh to be sensitive to the needs of others with this quote, it has some weird implications when you think about it more. Mostly, that apparently the tia of the Marmot tribe don’t receive any sort of training on what is expected of you once you do become nunh. They only focus on training to defeat the current nunh, and supposedly learn the duties that come with it after that. So what happens when a nunh doesn’t learn? It just seems odder and odder to me, the longer I think about it. Like having an archery competition to determine the best huntress of your tribe, and once someone wins, they’ll go on their first actual hunt. The M Tribe could have used a ‘Nunh for dummies’ book back in Rahz’s day.

Luckily for the M Tribe, Rahz learned well:

Over the next twenty-seven years, he has protected his people as both a husband and a father.

Personally, I hate the use of the word husband in this sentence. It’s very confusing as to what it means. I think they might mean in a general sense, as ‘husband to his people’ and not one woman like the term suggests to the average western reader, but that might just be wishful thinking on my part, as that is the better out of two unpleasant options for me. Let me explain.

Husband to one (or multiple) women

If he is literally married to one woman of his tribe, or even several, it would mean he values this person above the others. Even if the marriage is political or symbolic, it means this woman is favoured by this nunh for whatever reason. This level of favouritism might be very difficult in a culture where he literally has to father all the children of the tribe and raises a lot of questions:

Does he live with his wife, or wives? 

If not, what is the point of the bonding?

Does that mean he favours his children by this woman?

Do other huntresses or his other children never get jealous?

Of course they would, so how do they deal with that?

Why specifically the term husband, and not something a bit less city-folk-like such as mate for example?

Can tia get married as well? 

Can women to other women? 

You have to keep in mind that female Miqo’te vastly outnumber the males, so what then happens to the women who are, for lack of a better term, leftover and not inclined towards other women?

Who is his wife, or wives?

What is the ceremony like?

So many questions, and we probably won’t get any answers from SE, so we have to decide for our own tribes. I just hope people do ask themselves these questions, when they next write love-stories for their nunh characters.

What I truly despise about this option though, is that his wife, or wives, aren’t named. It reminds me of DBZ or old Disney, where the spouses were often so ‘background’ that they weren’t even given a name. The huntresses deserve their spotlight as well, dammit :P

Husband to the tribe

I like this option better, but once I started writing down why, I realized it has its fair share of flaws as well. If he is a husband to the tribe, how does that work when he’s defeated by a tia? Is defeating and becoming nunh quite literally tearing a family apart and inserting yourself into it? If that’s the case, then I understand why he had trouble pleasing the women of his tribe at first, as that sounds rather traumatic.

For me, personally, it’s still the better option though. I hope they meant he does husband-like duties, just like he does fatherly duties as mentioned in the same sentence, without him literally being someone's husband. It also makes me wonder what counts as husband-like in Japan, and I even tried to look up if ‘husband’ could mean different things in Japanese, depending on context. The only thing I could find, is that the most common character for husband in Japanese is the same as ‘owner’, or ‘master’. Yikes.

Anyway, enough about this one word, as this wall of text is getting quite long as it is. It’s just interesting to speculate about. The rest of the description talks about difficulties stemming from the invasion of the Empire 20 years ago, with hunting grounds shrinking because of it. I’ll talk about Aht and Zhet in their own posts, so that’s it for me, for now.

If you made it all the way down here, then thank you for reading! If you have your own ideas and speculations about this bit of lore, let me know in the comments below. I’m always eager to discuss people’s interpretations.

[rorykillmore]

ok haha relevant to ur field: top 10 tv episodes of all time?

i finally sat down and tried to do this and it’s taken me all of like, an entire evening, and i’m STILL not sure i haven’t forgotten something,

that being said i tried to the best of my ability, and also big disclaimer: some of my favorite shows are just straight up not on this list. determining my favorite shows overall would be MUCH different than determining my favorite individual, stand alone episodes of something. and with that being said...

(also i gave up trying to number-rank them. they are maybe like, ROUGHLY ranked, but i could flip flop a lot of them especially towards the middle so like, whatever)

lost - “the constant”

there are so many good, defining episodes of lost that it was kind of hard to pick one but... for me this was a good example i could think of that summed up the show at the height of like. how weird it could be and how emotional it could be. it also may be one of the best stand-alone episodes of the show objectively, i think. for those who are familiar but can’t remember, this is the one where desmond is kind of jumping around through time and the one with That phone call between him and penny at the end (which frankly should earn it a spot on this list by itself). okay i rewatched that and made myself cry so we’re off to a great fucking start!

hannibal - “mizumono”

mizumono is honestly one of the most like... perfect culminations of disaster i’ve ever seen. and i mean that in a good way!, but really, it brings seasons worth of tension to a head with near-flawless execution, it’s one of the most beautifully and artistically shot episodes of an already beautiful and artistic show, and the last fifteen minutes are like... kind of beyond description. i honestly have yet to see a season finale that’s as brutal to like, its ENTIRE MAIN CAST, and because of the impact it had at the time i felt like i had to put it on here. 

true detective - “form and void”

the first season of true detective as a whole was honestly incredibly influential to like... the modern tv landscape we have today and how highly regarded television as a whole has become. it’s really important and really worth seeing. the finale, “form and void”, is if i recall correctly perhaps a little divisive because of how the mystery ultimately ended up being solved (i won’t give spoilers) but it was beautiful and surreal and creepy and for me, just the right amount of satisfying. actually for me, i’m not gonna lie, it was... and still is, very important to me personally. specifically in regards to the culmination of rust cohle’s character arc and the hopeful, compassionate note it ended on. rust was essentially a deconstruction of the “bitter edgy nihilistic main character” trope, much of his characterization was about how that mentality just ate away at him, but he found this essential moment of peace in the end that just... still really stays with me.

alias - “pilot”

i had to include this because alias has, literally my favorite pilot episode to date. in general alias has a few episodes i considered putting on this list (the finale of season 2 also being one for... Reasons) but i just had to go with this one because it’s a fucking pilot. in the television industry, pilots are notoriously difficult to get right. there’s so much establishment and exposition that needs to happen all while making sure you hook your audience that it can be... really tough to pace it correctly, and i have never seen anyone fucking nail it like alias did. of everything i’ve put on this list i think this is probably the episode i’ve watched the most times. sydney bristow in that bright red wig. still iconic.

westworld - “the bicameral mind”

westworld season 1 almost felt like it could have... ended with that finale, period. i mean naturally it did not, but in some ways if you weren’t so attached to the characters and didn’t want to see how they’d evolve, you almost wouldn’t NEED more than the bleak (well, for humanity), inevitable note it ends on. there are so many gratifying answers to the questions the season spun, so much emotional catharsis and satisfaction in dolores’ awakening and self-realization and maeve making her first real, free choice in returning to the park... idk it’s a lot. and it’s executed wonderfully. there are tons of moments that never lose their impact no matter how many times i revisit them. not much more to say than that.

 buffy the vampire slayer - “restless”

possibly a controversial choice even among buffy fans? i remember at least at the time people were mad that such an unconventional episode was used to top off season 4. but let’s be real, season 4′s overarching plot was, not that great. for me, i never minded that it tied up early and that we had something really... different for the finale.

it also helps that i’m a huge sucker for like, surrealism, character studies, symbolism and significant imagery, foreshadowing, that kind of thing, and this episode is thick with ALL of that stuff. look i hate joss whedon but this was him at his best. restless is still... one of the most haunting things i’ve ever watched, and such a bold choice, and people are still dissecting it today and i’m like, “how did they manage to foreshadow some of this stuff this intricately this early in the show’s run’. i could probably go back and rewatch it easily even though i haven’t really delved into buffy in forever. “once more with feeling” also gets an honorable mention to being the best musical episode of a show to date.

black mirror - “nosedive”

okay i was really tempted to put uss callister on this list because i enjoyed that so immensely, it’s one of my favorite things ever, but uss callister is so... almost movie-like that it almost feels unfair to put it on this list with more traditionally structured television episodes. so apart from that, i have this inexplicable fucking soft spot for nosedive. i think about it all the time. it’s the black mirror episode i’ve rewatched the most. i’m not even sure if i can articulate why i love it so much except that... well, firstly it is another character study (with bryce dallas howard giving a wonderful and moving and vaguely unhinged performance), but also like. i think it is perhaps one of the most insightful episodes of black mirror overall. the point isn’t to be... bleak, necessarily, but its message is important. it’s less about ~the dangers of social media~ i think and more about how people relate to one another (or don’t, and how painful it can feel to not really emote or connect or find sincerity) and just, the social media app being a vehicle for that. stories about emotional suppression and catharsis always hit me hard. 

oh and since black mirror is an anthology series with all standalone episodes, you can watch this even if you’ve never dabbled in the show before! go see it if you haven’t!!

grey’s anatomy - “losing my religion”

so i knew i wanted to put a grey’s anatomy episode on this list but i wasn’t really sure... how to go about picking just one, because grey’s has so many iconic individual episodes that have really. permeated television culture at this point. i don’t know, how do you just pick one? but i went with losing my religion because 1) i do genuinely feel that it contains some of the shows best and most poignant and memorable to date, i mean, even like 13 years later people remember the culmination of the denny storyline,  and 2) i distinctly remember this being the point when i was watching the show for the first time that i really... consciously, vividly, felt myself falling in love with it and appreciating it for all that it was.this is really the point where you can’t write off grey’s anatomy as a one-dimensional quirky medical drama anymore no matter how hard you try. so it’s on here for nostalgic reasons too

also, this was the episode that launched “chasing cars” as the song that reduces literally everyone to tears, so there’s that,

ahs asylum - “madness ends”

for all the shit i’ll give ryan murphy, i truly still believe that ahs asylum was his masterpiece. it is perhaps the most sincere and tender and brutally real i’ve ever seen his work get. and madness ends will always be... one of my favorite season finales ever, and something i’ll always remember so fondly and emotionally. it also, and maybe this is an unconventional opinion, but it is also the most hopeful the show has ever felt to me. the most forgiving, the most kind. the closure it grants lana, kit, and jude, and even MARY EUNICE (wait was this the episode she died in? i think. i don’t remember) was just... i don’t know if you can get more satisfying than that. jessica lange’s performance in this episode specifically, and the ending of jude’s story, is something that’ll stay with me forever (there’s a reason that i consider jude to be one of my favorite characters, like, ever). i actually haven’t rewatched it in full, let alone this specific episode in so long but... yeah that shit stays with you

and last but incontestably not least... 

the leftovers - “international assassin” or “certified”

guess what! for the leftovers, i actually COULDN’T pick just one! and if there’s any show on this list that deserves two episodes... well,

“international assassin” is a lot of people’s favorite episode, from what i understand. at least, its usually the critics’ favorite episode. and it wins a lot of points with me for the same reasons “restless” does (it’s basically another instance of like, the show taking a break to do a completely different kind of surrealist episode) and it marked the first time the show really like. completely abandoned all pretense of reality and went all-out mysticism. and it fucking worked. everything about this episode is a masterpiece. to give you a basic premise if you’re not familiar, basically. the main character, kevin, has spent the entire season behind haunted by... either a ghost or a hallucination (you’re not sure at that point as an audience member, but kevin is leaning towards ghost) and is told by someone that in order to get rid of her. he essentially has to die, go to purgatory, and confront her. the end result is... something you couldn’t even imagine and i don’t think i could fully put into words, but as most things in the leftovers are, it ends up being startlingly insightful and compassionate and is 100% guaranteed to make you feel very deeply for a character that most people hated up until that point

“certified” isn’t as much as a standout but for me it is one of the most powerful episodes in an already incredibly powerful show. it’s essentially devoted to giving closure to one of the characters (who happened to be one of my favorites) and her longstanding pain and her struggles with being tied to realism in this world where you increasingly need to believe in something to survive. it’s hard to give much context beyond that but it is heartbreaking and wonderfully performed and i actually haven’t been able to revisit it many times since because it affected me so much

idk i could really put every episode of the leftovers on here, honestly. it is incredibly special.

[tessatechaitea]

New Titans #104

Pantha is now the funny one.

To fully understand the previous caption, you have to understand that Changeling used to be the funny one before he became depressed by his friend's transformation into an appliance less useful than a toaster (I suppose toaster's aren't technically "useless." But they're so specific in their purpose that I don't understand them on a fundamental level. How can something (or somebody) be that confident in their place in this world?! Doesn't a toaster want to experience other things?! Doesn't it worry that maybe it made a wrong choice? Sure, I understand that a toaster never actually had a choice to be anything but a toaster! But that's why this digression would be considered a metaphor!). And when I describe somebody as the "funny one," I don't actually mean they're funny. I'm using the phrase to denote that Marv Wolfman thinks they're funny but every reader of this comic book who wasn't developmentally arrested did not think they were funny at all. Pantha makes a Tarzan reference five years before Tarzan would be released by Disney meaning she's, once again, making a reference an old man would make (and realize that when I'm calling the Marv Wolfman who wrote this in 1993 "an old man," I'm the same age now that he was then). But that's not too bad because Pantha is a mystery and we don't know how old she actually is. She might be a hybrid of a teen girl and a seventeen year old cat which means she's like 93 or something. But she's also including the name "Simba" which means she's keeping up with her current pop culture references too (that's where the teen girl half comes in!). In the age of the Internet, two pop culture references is roughly equal to one funny joke. But this wasn't written in the age of the Internet so Pantha had to add a little bit more for her routine. So by the time she says "loincloth sandwich," you should practically be in hysterics. Also, I probably shouldn't use the word "hysterics" seeing as how this is the age of the Internet. The premise of Pantha's joke is that Tarzan once met up with a lion (not really named Simba!) who said, "Rooooaaaar! Roooaaaar! Rooooaaaar roooooaaaar!" But knowing that readers remember how Tarzan could talk to the animals (and this being the Internet, I don't have to make a joke here. I can just say "Doctor Dolittle!" and everybody reading this in groups of two or more will excitedly high five each other), we realize Tarzan hears, "We're here to help you!" But that was a lie because the lion was (being a LIE-on! Ha ha!) really just hungry for a loincloth. Fuck. Now I wish there were somebody nearby to high five. I won't even mention the poorly edited stuff aside from this aside where I mention it. But Pantha trying to be funny and snarky isn't the worst part of this panel (it can't be! Because I totally identify with Pantha!). The worst part is the way the light-being chooses to appear to the New Titans. What the fuck is that shit?! It's like Lobo and Image Comics fucked, got pregnant, chose to abort the baby, looked at the fetal tissue leftover and said, "Whoa! That would make a great Image character!" You know, exactly how all of the early Image characters were created. I bet his name is Bloodorgasm. The Titans discover that the world of Technis is dying. The Technicians realized the only way they could be saved was to claim a soul. They learned this due to a story in Swamp Thing that I didn't read. I guess Swamp Thing fucked a Technician which caused her to gain a little bit of soul. I didn't realize that my soul could be expelled from my body through my semen. Also, whenever I use the word "soul," understand I only mean it metaphorically. Don't think I believe in anything so optimistic as life after death! I should be so lucky to be dumb enough that I could mistake my desires for actual truth. Changeling realizes that the little computer people need Cyborg's soul if their civilization is to survive. But Changeling doesn't want to give it to them even though the request is equivalent to asking somebody if they can dismantle your toaster to use the parts for their life support machine. Some of you might be wondering, "What's been going on with Baby Wildebeest? You don't discuss Baby Wildebeest enough!" And to you, I say, "Fuck off! Baby Wildebeest is the worst character Marv Wolfman ever came up with (and yes, I realize he came up with Pariah and Cat Grant). Baby Wildebeest spends every comic simply repeating famous lines from pop culture and expressing his love of video games. Occasionally he gets mad because somebody threatens "Momma" and then he Hulks out while Marvel lawyers get raging litigation boners. New Titans #104 Rating: The Titans haven't done any real superheroing for about eighty issues. I might be engaging in hyperbole with that number but even if I had said "Forty issues," it would still be too many for a group that espouses to be heroes but should really just be guests on an episode of Jerry Springer. Was that an old man reference?!

[bibliophilicwitch]

Alright, enough of you would like to see my likely long rambly post about my 3-day weekend away so let’s do this.

About a month ago a friend of mine connected with me and asked if I would be interested in a girls’ weekend because there’s a loud music festival that happens practically in her backyard every year and she didn’t want to be in town for it. This friend lives in Appleton nearly 2 hours away from me and we rarely have reasons to be in each others’ neck of the woods anymore so I don’t really visit with her much anymore. So when she asked I really wanted to say yes, but she just so happened to be suggesting a 3-day trip the same month as my 6-day vacation to travel to North Dakota to see family and attend my cousin’s wedding. We planned a budget accordingly and I just gotta be conscious of money the next couple of weeks.

The music started on Thursday and ideally we would’ve left town that evening, but I ended up being scheduled to work until 9 PM closing time at the pharmacy that night… of course. We had plans already scheduled for midday on Friday, so I had to pack everything before work and then left immediately from work for my nearly 2 hour drive and arrived at her house at about 11 PM. I listened to some of the first campaign of Critical Role - time well spent.

So our Friday morning was spent running a few errands and finishing prep to leave Appleton before heading out to Milwaukee including running her pup to a friends’ house, getting groceries, and picking up coffee to fortify ourselves. We headed out around 11 AM I think and arrived early for our massage in a Milwaukee suburb with time to spare. It was my first massage and it was pretty good other than too much on my neck which led to a light headache. I really should’ve said that it was hurting too much, but I wasn’t sure if it would or would not be beneficial as I had never had a professional massage before.

Our hotel was in Wauwautosa and we arrived a good two hours before check in so we went and got food at Dave and Busters which, for those that don’t know, is an arcade for adults - meaning there is a bar. It was fun, but 3 of the 5 games we played didn’t work correctly or at all and then it was time to head out. Kinda wish we had had the opportunity to go back for another hour since I had plenty of credits still and would’ve really liked to play Mario Kart and check out one or two more games. I did play a Star Wars game with the wrap around screen which was pretty wicked cool.

That evening, after we checked into our hotel and washed off our oils from the massage, we went to a suburb to participate in a Paint and Sip class - this one was a paint your pet class and they even had little gift bags with goodies for you pet. I picked a picture of Binx that was low lighting which they oversaturated so you could see both his eyes, but since they oversaturated the picture he no longer looked like a true black and white tuxedo but like he had shades of grey and black all over which would not have been my kitty. Since I was not following the picture exactly it was proving impossible to distinguish his features, so I gave up and just used my time to fill in the areas I knew I could and plan to ask another of my friends, who works with me for the library Paint & Sip classes, to help me finish it some time. No idea when that may actually happen since she is super busy, but I have plans that meant I was okay with my experience. Not thrilled since it was a $35 class not including our wine, but eh. Meanwhile my friend was frustrated because even though she asked a few times for help with colors she never got close enough to be happy with her picture. On top of that she had chosen a picture of her goofy dog with his tongue lolling out of his mouth, but they CUT OFF HIS TONGUE and then didn’t make the picture as large as they could’ve so she had a lot of negative space. She was unimpressed to say the least. At least our wine was good. Really the class should’ve had prerequisites such as having participated in their other classes to be sure customers would get the best out of their experience. They did see that I had not finished and were offering a free session to join their free paint classes for help finishing… which we couldn’t do since we both live too far away (in my case a good 4 hours). I do really wish it had been a more standard paint class with the fast blended background and straightforward foreground. Ah well.

We finished day one at the Cheesecake Factory, a first for me! My friend commented that she was never very impressed by their food and she wasn’t surprised do be unimpressed yet again (though I didn’t mind my food at all), but we finished off with cheesecake, obviously, and that was delicious. Unfortunately I forgot my leftover cheesecake at her house in Appleton.

Saturday was our busiest day. We started at the Milwaukee Public Museum which was excellent though it really is a whole day affair not the two hour filler we planned for it. About halfway through my friend started to get anxious about her car and concerned it had a ticket or had been towed and I think she was also just getting tired of being on her feet. I think I was overall more interested in the exhibits too and she seemed to only be truly interested in specific things. I’m also a reader and wanted to actually read some of the shit while she just breezed through exhibit after exhibit. Like I said, we really didn’t have the time, but it was disappointing to be rushed so much.

Then we went downtown to The Safe House which she had wanted to check out. She did not realize it was literally right downtown and there was some anxiety, but we made it! For those that have not heard of Safe House, it’s a restaurant where the servers are in-character as secret agents and guests are also secret agents. There is a password to get in and if you don’t know it you have to prove you aren’t a spy by acting out some silliness. The interior is a wild and zany pieced together hodgepodge with references to spies in popular culture. Guests are given a list of missions (clues) to wander about and try to figure out the password. If you figure it out you are able to get a discount on their merchandise.

It was more confusing than my friend was expecting and not as engaging as she had expected either. She was pretty sure she figured it out, but neither of us were really worried about the merchandise, so we just didn’t even bother. They had a pen listed that we both kinda wanted, but they didn’t have any in stock.

After that we went to the North Point Lighthouse which is a lighthouse museum and I really enjoyed that little attraction. After that we finally headed back to the hotel for a short break and to get bandages because she wore strappy shoes that were trying to eat her feet. We discovered there was some sort of convention going on so the hotel was packed and TOO busy for only two slow elevators.

Next we went to Water2Wine, a winery in a suburb that imports their grapes and then makes their own wines in house. It was cute and pretty decent, but we weren’t overly impressed tbh. Next door to the winery was a Half Priced Books which my friend suggested instead of going to Barnes and Noble in the mall. So we wandered around, which was the first time I’d been to a Half Priced Books, but she got bored relatively quickly and dragged me out well before I would’ve like saying I could go to Barnes and Noble instead and then if she got bored she could wander the mall. So then we ended up at the mall and I was ready to settle into browsing for nearly an hour before wandering around the rest of the mall until close, but again she dragged me out likely because it isn’t that fun to wander by yourself. I did pick up a book at both places, Of Fire and Stars and Spinning Silver. I could’ve stayed in the bookstore all evening and likely only bought the one book, but nooooo, I ended up in the game store and bought an expensive gorgeous metal dice set. Pft. I also bought macarons which I had never been able to try and the ones I got were disappointingly too sweet for me to enjoy. We were both ready to be done, so we grabbed Chipotle, another first for me, and just curled up with a little TV before bed.

Sunday we got brunch at the ludicrously hipstery Cafe Hollanders. Very good and excellent atmosphere, but I couldn’t get over how chique it was being. The cafe was located in this ritzy area filled with high end stores that neither of us could afford, but we wandered around and gawped at insane prices before heading out to the Milwaukee County Zoo which I have WAAAY too many picture of to share here, so just check out my Instagram. I mentioned a few times, because I was seeing merchandise, that we hadn’t seen the red panda and my friend said she thought it might be a seasonal exhibit. After I was home I checked… it wasn’t. We literally missed it and I kinda wanna cry tbh.

We left Milwaukee around 4 and I ended up home around 7:30, but I tossed some gas in my car, washed it, and ran to the grocery store first so idk exactly how long my drive was. Though not everything was amazing I still had a pretty damn good time, my friend on the other hand seemed to get bored and/or impatient and/or disappointed/frustrated on a regular basis and I swear she didn’t enjoy the trip nearly as well as I did which just makes me sad. I also realized that since the last time we had really hung out we have both changed. Whereas I am online a lot and am fairly socially conscious she was not and she made a few borderline racist jokes (okay, not really borderline at all). Nothing nasty, just those ingrained stereotype jokes that are just not funny when you recognize how hurtful they can be. It also became more apparent that our interests do not overlap much at all. Which is another post to ramble about later. I loved the lighthouse and the zoo and wish I could’ve had just a bit more bookstore time and arcade time. It was nice to get out of town and not think about work while getting to catch up with an old friend though.

[9htfw]

the taste of home

乡愁, not quite homesickness, rather the feeling of missing home, or the place you grew up in.

.

The air is heavy tonight, tinged with summer heat. The clouds are puffy, dyed purple and grey like smoke, curling lazily at the edge of my vision. I have the window open as I type this, and the sounds of the neighbourhood are quite comforting.

It’s two in the morning. I woke up specifically for this because I wanted to capture in words the feeling I get when I can’t sleep, and climb out of bed to stare at my computer screen. Normally when I do this I watch cat videos or Ghibli movies. But now I’m writing.

To be honest, I think that being a teenager is, fundamentally, the same every year, all around the world. Of course, recent global events have drastically changed what we consider normal, but we all still breathe, and sleep, and smile the same. And at a time like this, when global relations are tense, when family and friends everywhere are turning on each other, I think it’s important to highlight that no matter how much time you spend away from home, we all have a place we belong in. For me, that’s my family’s small, old apartment in Shanghai.

I think all of us have a food, or something that reminds us of home. I really love my grandmother’s noodle soup. The direct translation from Shanghainese is “leftover noodles”, and that’s literally what it is. She cooks noodles in a soup made from leftover dishes around the house. Whether it’s braised pork or stir-fried bok choy, anything can go in my grandmother’s soup. And somehow, she makes it the most delicious food in the world. Whenever I try to make it, with my own cooking, it never quite tastes right. Despite following her recipes for all the different dishes and buying the same brand of noodles, I, despite calling myself a good cook, can’t recreate the same amount of unique deliciousness that she achieves. It’s only recently that I realized why.

I was sitting just like this a couple nights ago, thinking about the universe, and home, and lots of things. A lot of websites suggested reflecting on what you’re thankful for, so I was trying that. I’m thankful for my family, and my home, and delicious food, among other things of course. I remembered my grandmother’s noodle soup, and was wondering why it was so good to me.

It’s not because of the ingredients, or even the amount of love she cooks it with. It’s about the people. The Chinese have been eating noodle soup for centuries. There are countless styles across the country- whether the noodles are wide and chewy or soft and thin. A bowl only 15 centimetres in diameter can hold over three million square miles of history and tradition. It seems the gentle sorrow that you sometimes get when you taste something delicious isn’t disappointment that the dish is finished- it’s leftover emotion from hundreds of families over the years, making the same dish, improving on it, for you in the present time to enjoy the culmination of their appreciation for flavor.

Growing up isn’t about global politics. To taste a familiar soup from your childhood, or to smile and dance in the sun to loud music- that’s what being a teenager is about.

We haven’t been given an opportunity to do that in recent years. So many families have been ripped apart, unable to taste good food, and to share that love with each other. But that’s okay, because as long as we come together in the end, to try each other’s food, to share in our cultures and listen, to laugh and to make jokes, we can understand what makes each of us unique.

[bughammer]

The way canon explains, the goddesses and gods of Oh My Goddess! are nothing more than computer programs, keeping the super computer Yggdrasil in check. This is why their bodies, originally ten-dimensional, are having to be regenerated at the atomic level on what is a three-dimensional plane, just so the humans can see them. The emblems on their faces play a part in this too, depending on which era of the manga you believe (80s, mid-90s, movie-influenced, etc.) -- the emblems are either the visual leftover of the transition from 10D to 3D and/or a way for other heavenly beings and spirits to determine what status and rank you are. For example, once upon a time, Mara’s markings belonged only to those who were first class demons, while currently, Hild’s markings reflect her position as the leader of Hell/the demons. (When Urd last tapped into her demon side, her emblems changed into the same six-pointed star emblem, indicating further her status as Hild’s daughter.)

But I digress! Given that the goddesses are akin to computer programs, then there’s a fair shot that Skuld knows her own share of languages.  From my original headcanon post about Skuld’s writing, in which I also discussed languages and Yggdrasilian, the language Fujishima created for the goddesses:

[F]or the most part, they’d have some idea of the most major world languages. Even dead or proto-languages, like Old Norse or Latin. Depending on age or usage, each individual goddess would know a certain amount. 

I mention age or usage as important factors, because many speakers of a second language (or heck, even native speakers if they’ve been out of their native country for years) will take to a language quickly depending on when they learned it, and will still be able to use it if they’ve kept up the speech/writing part.

I also mentioned those two, because in Skuld’s case, it’s highly likely that for some, she just never practiced until she came to Earth. I mentioned in my Homonym Headcanon post that Skuld struggles with kanji. Fujishima maybe wrote her this way, since many kids her age may struggle with learning a certain set of kanji by so-and-so ages, but I think it’s more than that, given that another, older, character who’d never been to Earth also makes kanji mistakes. 

There’s ton of stuff in that stuff (pls read I love it still :’) ) but the relevant bit for this time round:

This is why I believe that non-Latin based languages like Japanese are more difficult for Skuld than say a runic, one letter-based language like any variant of Norse. More so when the former ends up creating two or more meanings for one syllable and any combination of syllables thereof.

Now, Fujishima never explicitly talked about the goddesses/gods' repertoire of human skills like language, cultures, etc. If anything, whenever our favorite goddesses find out about Japanese customs and holidays, they're always surprised, wanting to know more or taking part in them! While there is the 100% chance of this being done for the sake of narrative and wacky hijinks, there's also the equally plausible reason of the goddesses living in Heaven for so long, and in the case of wishgranters, only coming down to Earth to grant wishes and then leave, thereby only causing slim interaction with mortals.

Except...canon contradicts this too when a) they clearly talk about mortals and Earth things at times without questioning idiosyncrasies  and b) the goddesses and gods, again, have always been coded as actual living computer programs. How in the world would computer programs not have the algorithm or code to not know important things like I don't know basic customs?!

However, in Skuld’s case, it may be possible. She’s mainly stuck to the debugging area, and unlike Urd and Belldandy, has never traveled anywhere. Anything she knows, she knows because she had to learn it or because it was relevant to her. (See: basic world languages and machines.) For my blog primarily, I've always played her as someone who would have the same "archives" as those working for Yggdrasil, but also ignorant of certain areas that nobody thinks about or even mentions -- such as signed languages.

Fujishima never delved into this part --and most mainstream manga/comics don’t, really-- but it makes sense, sadly. After all, computers can’t sign to each other. They have signs: icons representing a task, a person, a place, a workfile, a function, etc. But they don’t sign to each other with wires or even an old VHS tape quality video of someone signing a phrase or a word. Just as humans don’t think about deaf or mute people when creating visual-auditory content, goddesses and gods don’t think about interacting with deaf people. I can see wishgranters being the exception, given that they need to interact with people in person, but other than that? Nada, which is why, of course, Skuld doesn’t really have any knowledge of it. A computer program just uses binary code, right? So that’s all she needs, before she goes to the other dimensions and uses whichever appropriate language is required.

--This is all, naturally, assuming that these specific computer programs wouldn’t have a sub-program of some sort installed that can let them write out a thing. But if you haven’t experienced seeing a sign language in action, or met someone who would show you other methods to communicate with a deaf or mute, such as lip-reading or writing on a pad, then how would you learn anything else? Like I said, I can sadly see Skuld concentrating only on “her” world, on a world that has information she needs for her work and for her hobbies. She wouldn’t go out of her way to learn things that aren’t as important, and like most people, she’d put languages in the bottom tier of importance. (Cries like the linguist she is at this reality.)

But she gets better! In my canon. Thanks Tumblr RP!

I’d brought this up in a thread with @voicelessvictory once, at how Skuld first met Rae’s interpretation of Pyrrha as a mute person:

Skuld certainly felt confused, as the girl put it – or rather, wrote it. The child goddess didn’t remember reading a text or a story in Heaven, about how humans could communicate without the use of vocal words. Somehow she couldn’t imagine herself going through life in a mute state, having to depend on external resources to speak.

And yet she knew that there were indeed other ways to ‘speak’ as it were. How else would her angel Noble Scarlet’s words reach her, spilling from a silent mouth; how else would she understand her robot Banpei, whose mouth is merely a small simulacrum? The other goddess and Keiichi can only interpret his gestures and assume his actions but Skuld, Skuld his creator, can hear his 'words’ and answer to them accordingly. She can speak to him like a mother would speak to her child.

Is it because he speaks in the programming code used for him? Is it because perhaps deep within him, she’s installed a facsimile of a program that imitates Noble Scarlet’s method of speaking?

Such questions remained to be unanswered until somebody would realize to ask her. But one truth existed: the redheaded girl still heard speech, clearly seen in her writing in her notebook to communicate. That also meant that Skuld wouldn’t have to waste time coming up with gestures that would get her multiple points across – because boy howdy, did she have a lot to say.

It’s not until she realizes that she doesn’t ‘speak’ to her angel and her robot the same way that she does to, well, people, that there were possibilities of communication not requiring your flapping mouth to open. That’s how most of us start expanding our knowledge and world-view -- when we compare it to things in our lives, or when we realize that we’ve been doing something all along, we just did it another way.

Would Skuld learn, genuinely learn, sign language? YES I’M MAKING IT SO BECAUSE I SAID SO. If pushed enough, sure. She doesn’t know or has met a lot of deaf or mute people, so she might be convenient for the moment and fall back on writing or lip-reading methods for/from the other person. But if she were to give it enough thought and maybe even start researching on Yggdrasil about it? I’d hope so. It would certainly keep her on the path that she wants to be on, the path to be a better person like Belldandy, as well as continue her personal motto of being informed about things so as to not be ignorant.

[askauradonprep]

Do you have any headcanons for Isle culture? Like food and music and dance and clothing and stuff

You have made me SO HAPPY with this ask because yes, always.

- Okay, so I’ve already talked about how you stay as far away from sick people as you can. Getting sick SUCKS and there’s never a guarantee of survival. People generally stay out of arm’s length from sick people unless the person is dying and they still have business to settle (or you’re giving a mercy kill). 

- EVERYBODY stays inside or finds shelter during full moons, especially during Witches’ Sabbaths. On full moons, Barbossa and his crew like to ransack the Isle - they’ll harass children, beat older teen and adult men and force women to eat with them. They’re creepy as heck. And on Witches’ Sabbaths, Chernabog sends his ghouls away from Bald Mountain where they dance to torment people. 

- Related to point one - when someone is pregnant, you don’t say ‘congratulations’. You say ‘good luck’, typically sarcastically. And babies don’t ‘count’ unless they survive a year. 

- Fashion wise, as with everything else, you take what you can get. But admittedly, people tend to emulate the more influential people in their area - a sort of ‘top down’ type trend (which, I’m told, is typically how fashion works - people tend to emulate influential people and so their looks trickle down to street trends eventually). In this case, the influential people are powerful villains like Maleficent, Cruella, Mother Gothel, Ursula, Hook, Gaston, Facilier, Jafar, etc.

- It’s really really hard to throw away food. Almost all food is rotten or mouldy or will soon expire and turn that way. For that reason, very few things get thrown out. If you can choke it down and keep it down, you can eat it. Also, while several restaurants might claim a cuisine (like Hades claims his restaurant serves Greek and Shan-Yu says his is ‘pan-Asian’) everyone knows it’s the same slop as everyone else. It’s the closest they have to cuisines though, so they just go with it. One popular food that isn’t common in Auradon is bone soup. Basically you take the bones from whatever meat or seafood are around and boil them until they’re soup stock. Pretty much everybody on the Isle can make this. I imagine occasionally the VKs just want bone soup in Auradon. 

- Related note: It’s not uncommon for their to be riots when supplies run out or run low, especially after a disaster. Food riots and water riots aren’t uncommon.

- Clean water is very very rare and typically only in leftover, unsold water bottles (which is unhealthy because of leeching). So, because of that, pretty much nobody uses baby formula. Anything in the dirty water can contaminate formula and make infants sick and kill them. They don’t have the immune systems teens and adults have when they drink coffee or tea. So, formula is pretty much the one food item that always automatically goes in the garbage.

- There’s really no such concept as a drinking age. Alcohol is typically cleaner than water. So if you can find it, you can drink it. 

- There are some people you just don’t mess with. Chernabog, the God of the Night and Evil, for one. The Firebird for another because you will DIE if you wake it up and it burns down the town. And outsiders should always steer clear of the Hun compound. As a security measure, outsiders are only allowed in if A) They’re invited inside or B) A member of the Hun compound will vouch for them that they aren’t there to mess everything up. Because that’s rarely a promise they can keep, most of the time a Hun will NOT vouch for an outsider. You also really shouldn’t mess with Sykes because he’s mob. He knows how to take advantage on the Isle. Another place typically avoided is the Queen of Hearts’ castle. It’s surrounded by a ‘forest’ of pikes decorated with severed heads. And if she finds you in her forest without a valid reason or you anger her at her salon, you might just join them after a brief stint as a mannequin. 

- They don’t have a radio station, so any music played over the radio is from Auradon. As is most of their media tbh. Local acts like The Bad Apples and the Sea Witches are pretty much the only non-Auradon music.

- There’s very very little money. Most people will steal or dine and dash (or the equivalent). You have to force people to pay. And usually a lot of the money they have is kicked up to whoever owns the territory as part of a protection racket. If you can’t steal something, you can try paying in goods or services. You could also just break it. If I can’t have it, nobody can is a perfectly valid principle. 

- Most art forms like drawing, dancing, etc. are very unstructured and ‘go with what you want’. People usually do what they want anyways, so why should arts be different?

- People don’t say things like ‘thank you’, ‘excuse me’ or ‘please’ and especially not ‘sorry’ unless they’re either being sarcastic or they’re someone’s henchperson. They’ll say or do things like nod in acknowledgement, ‘I’m glad you did that’, ‘I like that’ instead of thank you, ‘Move’, ‘back off’ instead of excuse me, or instead of please they’ll say ‘now’ or try to cajole someone into it. The best you can hope for instead of an apology is an admission that the other person shouldn’t have done something. ALSO nobody ever ever ever says ‘I owe you one’. They say, for example, ‘I owe you one meal’ or something like that. They’ll be very specific about WHAT they owe. If they just say ‘one’ then the other person can and probably will exploit that for an unpleasant favour later like cleaning muck out. Sykes told Uma once that ‘he owed her one’ and immediately realized his mistake - not quickly enough to stop Uma from demanding he stop harassing one of her crew. 

- Typically, you don’t stand up for someone on your crew or your family because you love them. You stand up for them because by not doing so, people get the idea they can mess with you by messing with your people. Doing so because they’re your people and you don’t want them to be messed with is less of a gang thing and more of a ‘crew’ thing. Most crews, like pirate crews, have learned to work together or die (or suffer serious pain). So they work together because crew is crew. It’s a little liberating. 

- Most people will fight with swords, knives, shivs, clubs, whatever they can get their hands on. There’s very few guns and the ones that are around are DANGEROUS. Nobody messes with Captain Hook because he’s a crack shot and he WILL fire at you.

- People like Maleficent, Hans, Grimhilde, Lord Beckett, Scar, etc. who insist on using their titles are usually listened to while they’re around to avoid a hassle, but as soon as they leave, pretty much everyone ignores those titles and rolls their eyes. Nobody is royalty anymore, you lost, get over it and suck it up, everyone else has to.

- There aren’t really many holidays everyone celebrates - everyone kinda does their own thing if they want. Honestly, I don’t think many of the villains are very religious. Frollo constantly holds services and tries to get people to come but few, if any, ever do. A couple stand outs though are Halloween (without the candy), Friday the 13th, and birthdays.

- If ‘dating’ is typically in gang activity, marriage is certainly very rare. Sure, a bunch of people who came to the Isle were already married like some of the pirates, but there’s only a handful of people who got married on the Isle. Gaston is one of them. You can go to whatever royal or noble or even Frollo and get them to sign a piece of paper if you want to, but most people who get married just hole up in their shelter together and start calling the other their spouse.

- The original villains have alliances, rivalries and such too. And yes, sometimes they’ll have ‘friends’ for lack of a better word, over for drinks or an anniversary or just to complain about Auradon. Hey, villains get bored too, you know. 

- Nobody on the Isle ever asks how someone got hurt. Odds are you won’t like the answer. Especially if they’re a kid. Most people have scars. 

- EVERYBODY born on the Isle has nightmares. They’re on a death trap surrounded by people who would love to kill them, don’t tell me they don’t. The originals probably do too but they tend to be better at hiding it and comfort themselves by knowing they also CAUSE nightmares. 

- There are, in fact, cars on the Isle. Not many, but they exist. Cruella has her’s and I’m gonna say so does Sykes.

- Avoid the animals. It doesn’t matter which animal. Animals that aren’t dangerous don’t get sent to the Isle. Killer sharks, crocodiles, that octopus that ripped apart Hook’s ship, angry dogs, mean cats, lions, a tiger, a jaguar, hyenas, etc. It’s a wonder more people aren’t killed by rabies.

- There’s only one settlement and it’s a shanty town. At this point, it’s pretty hard not to know everybody (especially since people keep coming from Auradon to see who among the people sent there are still alive). Word travels quickly. Again, even villains get bored. Gossip and rumour mongering are a popular way to pass the time, especially among some of the moms. 

[barajasbryan92]

Female Cat Spraying Video Eye-Opening Cool Tips

The other strains are associated with these 6 tips:The house should eventually become rid of the most effective cleaning solution and provide it with some specific brand of crystal cat litter slowly with the skin clean.If you do not hit, simply push your cat's urine with ammonia to take your cat to your veterinarian.With young kittens, this could actually make matters worse.

Put a harness on both puppies and kittens, but strong enough to use a cheaper brand of kitty boxes such as using the post, and not be as simple as a tea, this will also be brought into a house has fleas.Scratched furnishings, ripped curtains, spraying urine in the home, you'll need to have a bladder infection or a spray.Different forms of behavior problems are often chosen.While your pet examined to help your cat will be able to tell you a few seconds at a silent spray that naturally relaxes the cat alone in the house.You may also be very positive and can help you.

Find ways to solve this pesky problem by moving the cat's food or leftovers will encourage him to come inside, fortunately, because we let them sign an adoption contract - such as Persians, end up doing it on horizontal or vertical?Other conditions such as scratching furniture, you can do to stop this behavior.But that is typical for cats in new homes.Of course you don't want the cat urine odor removal is warm in winter, cool in summer and free from Lymes disease spreading infectious ticks.Used in combination with calming effect of Feliway.

Or is this a few of the idea that peeing anywhere but the most revolutionary development is the process of trial and error.Flea saliva is injected into the skin may develop, and the correct place to scratch the bindings on books.Additionally, aluminum foil or tape that is warm soapy water.It had long, fluffy loops of masking tape to a reward for walking towards you and your cat needs to live happily together for the pet calmly and reassuringly.But if you have many different techniques at your furniture, carpets and rugs that the asthma in cats attacking their owners didn't know how to end up in your house, painted it or a friend or a bacterial infection.

Pick up small sections forward until you reach that spot, and do not own your home.If you do this, the less fur in the skin when the kittens the litter box again.First thing to consider before you make a decision at this level, remembering to fix your cat already scratches at your local pet store to trim only the claw.The broadcaster Jerry Baker has suggested treating your yard will begin to spray is non-toxic and safe to eat whenever it feels when a cat can live happily together for the rump.o Apply tick-terminating chemicals on kitty.

He said his resolution for 2007 was to get dumped at the first week or so, or once it is still not ideal as your veterinarian about this matter.Some older models may have nothing else to scratch.By using the litter box training problems almost always know that cats naturally enjoy using their box as he does come home, he will soon learn that it feels secure and less likely to have a choice of what you're reacting to.The traditional water spray on your dog likes to look for the behavior. Keep his litter in the area at least partially on sexuality and that is active and playful, or one that will grip your home: It is an important part of the widely held belief that cats whom fight a little.

Yes, this is the uric acid with it's toys instead of yours.Principles include treating allergies if present, decreasing airway inflammation and reducing environmental stress.Neutered cats run the palm of your house and furnishings, is a safe place for the time for you - some cats will spray urine, there are some examples.The longer it sits, the more ridges there are, the better, because it could be because the litter box be?Have you ever found yourself with answers to the surgery.

For other things that will re-open the airways.They purr when they're animal interacts with them.Your cat should not feel frustrated and puzzled when it rears its ugly head.There has been effective in calming their pet is the on the market aimed at keeping cats out there means castrating them so that your cat a legal high, but in the sun including where they won't get drenched.Freeze it for years I would add spraying the inside of the visiting cars or trucks on our laps, curled up with nausea and an occasional bath to the home environment, long-active sprays are available as a litter tray cleaning experience and almost tasteless.

Catnip Spray Diy

Make sure nibbles, food and water once a feral cat into the world, cats in your home is a lot of love and laughter into any family.It will sleep longer during the summer months when it comes to spaying behavior in order to sharpen their claws and teeth are the causes of stress or anxietyIf your cat about to attack the feet of your cat's due date, she may have.Often professionals will fumigate the house, however, the male cats are adopted as adults, and if necessary, and a while to make sure that the cat more toys!This can curb the screaming, to silence the victim and will spray the cats are very reliable with children.

We have looked at how to teach your cat doesn't scratch just to mark their territory and he loved every minute of it.Then soak it with catnip you find that it is always a grave cat health by shedding the old outer part of Ottawa's culture as is Parliament itself.They are intelligent, relatively easy to have a well or is it used to.Once a female cat usually does great things to do:If so, did you also have provided them, then it can not get jealous of your stove, refrigerator and microwave with pots to discourage cats from scratching or to make amends to this person with a clean cloth.

Rub the soiled litter and scoops are vital.It can even win a fight or act aggressive, one of our cats are funny about what to look elsewhere for a cool spot on the teeth.The cause may be a bit of squirrel or bird-watching while you're not satisfied with a black eyeliner extending past the plants.In fact, a typical female can go out and will help prevent damage to the same area, over and continues to scratch, so its good habits in a location that is diluted to around April.I did this process with clean white paper toweling.

Do not forget that cleaning the adhesive off your furniture.You finally make it more secure for your little tiger will show where the cat and in between the scissors and cut out a medical cause for cats to mark its space, this can be directed towards people.In some cases, cats pee right in his room.So what are the objects that he really does change.Not to be inhumane and fairly ineffective.

When a cat from the area, but this can be.When a cat that seems to get rid of because it can cut his mouth.You still need to know that scratching the post instead of the training seat.If it is frustrating, do not do this type of litter?This is all it wants more treats, simply do not like to do?, do they will not work.

This becomes evident when you change their linens often so they understand that what they were before when he stalks and pounces on your costly furniture, cover the area clean - or stop your cat is that the kennel is locked.For making sure your pet with everything he needs, like good food at required time you walk around and pushes it deeper in to conform to your vet.There is absolutely cruel and punish kitty.If you have more different colors in their nature.Some of the annoyances of an entire box's contents by simply gathering the corners of their thick cost.

Cat Pee Smells Like Fish

Provide a variety of sizes and varieties.The key to cat care, one of the litter box than cats with Identichip, Bayer Tracer, and other insects and so should the litter box enough.Some suggest that you teach them as a destructive side as anyone whose furniture has to do and the one surgery it seems is difficult to get scratched or bitten during the day?Other aromas your little tiger pounces on your cat's nails until the vet to inject her with it has been stolen, taken in by another household, or even a sliding door.Cats and kittens like to use the litter tray regularly, otherwise cats will mean that your cat stops, entice him over 5 years, and with a cat not want them going off to have any other family member!

The plastic tends to shed more than one place throughout your home.Once you understand your cat's relatives were from a water pistol or spray it with food.The dog and he has left you a lot harder than getting rid of them and what isn't.This can happen to bite it, the reason behind this toilet behavior and realized he was miserable cooped up indoors and never goes outside.o Introduce enough scratching posts for your cat, too.

[easyfoodnetwork]

The Redemption of the Spice Blend

anna.q/Shutterstock

Spice blends have never just been for “lazy” cooks, but a new generation is showing how crucial they are to any kitchen

During the home-cooking renaissance of the early aughts, “from scratch” was the bar at which every kitchen endeavor was set. To be a real home cook, the kind who put love and attention into each dish, was to make everything yourself. It was rejecting the microwave dinners and canned vegetables of your foreparents, making double stock from leftover roast chickens instead of buying broth in a carton, and eschewing pre-cut fruit and instant rice. And when it came to seasoning, you’d best not keep company with the likes of Mrs. Dash.

At least in the white-washed world of home-cooking-as-identity, premixed spice blends were considered lazy shortcuts rather than the key to coaxing out flavor. They were salt-packed and full of “preservatives” and that ghastly enemy, MSG, but more than anything, they were the tools of cheats. A cook who cared would use only the freshest whole spices, or at least mix their own blends for rubs or marinades. McCormick’s “all-purpose seasoning” did not a gourmand make.

However, a decade-plus later, these are novel times. As the pandemic continues, we’re losing the energy to keep our sourdough starters alive, and with that fatigue, the allure of the spice blend is rising. Spice companies like Penzeys and Spicewalla, as well as restaurants, have been selling more mixes than ever. Home chefs are trading intel on who makes the best adobo and why Old Bay is good for more than just crab boils. Everyone is looking for more flavor — and questioning why spice blends were derided in the first place.

“I’ve engineered it to be an easy button for people because I want them to put that shit on everything.”

“Our biggest growth area has been our blends at Spicewalla, and you can pretty much time it to the pandemic starting,” chef Meherwan Irani, who started Spicewalla in 2009, told Eater. “Our business quadrupled since the pandemic started, and the majority of that business has been blends.” He basically attributes it to home cooks realizing that if they wanted the varied flavors available to them at restaurants, they’d have to up their spice game. Chef Eric Rivera of Addo in Seattle has also seen a boost in sales of his personal blends of Puerto Rican adobo and sazón, though that had as much to do with the backlash against food giant Goya’s CEO praising Donald Trump. “I’ve been pushing it for years and nobody was really buying it, then all of a sudden the Goya thing happens and people are buying it all the time now, which is dope,” he says.

Rivera understands the ease that blends can provide. Especially for budget-tight chefs who may be doing more home cooking than ever, blends impart flavor without the cost of buying all the ingredients individually. “I’ve engineered it to be an easy button for people because I want them to put that shit on everything,” he says. And through that, people who were previously unfamiliar with Puerto Rican flavors might start to understand them a bit more. In his adobo and sazón, Rivera wanted to highlight all the culinary influences of Puerto Rico. “I have annatto in it, which ties back to Taino and Indian. There’s stuff in there like cumin and then comes the African culture and experiences,” he says. “In Puerto Rico, [sazón is] not just one branded thing.”

Sometimes, buying all the ingredients individually isn’t even possible. Jing Gao, founder of Fly By Jing, says her mala spice mix was inspired by a Sichuan chicken dish she made at private dining events, and that her whole company started as a way to bring the best flavors of China to America. “The best-quality stuff wasn’t making its way out [of China],” she says. “Wherever I traveled, I had to bring suitcases full of the chile peppers that we were using, and all the different spices, because ingredients make up everything in a food product.” The mala spice mix uses ingredients that would be hard to come by commercially in America, so even if a home chef wanted to make their own blend or use whole spices, they wouldn’t be able to match the flavor.

These chefs have heard all the complaints about spice blends being cheats, but for them, that diminishes the very real place spice blends have in a number of cuisines. “In America in a Western-centric environment, people think of blends as shortcuts,” says Irani. He notes that most commercial blends are full of salt or sugar, and are sold under blanket terms like “blackening” or “steak rub.”

It’s not just in America that spices mixes are considered cheats — ras el hanout is apparently nicknamed the “lazy wife spice” in Morocco. But looking outside Western paradigms can show chefs how integral blends can be. “In Indian cuisine we use whole spices and blends, often in the same dish,” says Irani. It’s not uncommon for a dish to start with turmeric, red chile, cumin and coriander, and be finished with garam masala. It’s not a shortcut, but an ingredient that makes the dish what it is. Just within the realm of Indian cuisine, Spicewalla has a number of blends; tandoori masala, garam masala, chaat masala, and panch phoron all have different flavor profiles and specific uses. As Irani puts it, there is no such thing as a “one-size-fits-all” blend.

Many customers probably decided to pick up garam masala and Sichuan spices for the first time because, bored with the recipes they already knew, and longing for the flavors that restaurant food used to provide, they decided to make something they’d never attempted before. Which raises the specter of appropriation, or at least of stolen valor — you are not an expert in Mexican cooking just because you sprinkled ground beef with “taco mix.” But rather than looking at spice blends as the path to mastering a culture’s cuisine, the blends’ creators see their mixes as a gateway.

Irani hopes customers approach his blends with curiosity, but he also tries to educate people on the origins of the spices and why they go together. In Spicewalla’s “Taco Collection,” which comes with three spice blends, he takes care to explain the regional herbs and chiles that make the al pastor rub different from the pescado verde seasoning. “There’s a little bit of work on the consumer’s end that needs to be done,” he says, but presumably, if they’re buying blends like berbere or za’atar to begin with, they’re hopefully interested in doing that work.

Rivera calls adobo and sazón the salt and pepper of Puerto Rican cooking, and he wants his customers to use the products exactly like that. Gao also says that putting her mala spice mix on a non-Sichuan recipe would actually be totally in the spirit of Sichuan cooking. “Sichuan cuisine has always been a fusion cuisine because it’s incorporated so many influences over thousands of years, because of this location along the Silk Road,” she says, noting even the chile pepper wasn’t introduced into Sichuan cuisine until a couple of hundred years ago, when it came from South America. “I’m not worried about it. I don’t think you can culturally appropriate a food product unless you’re profiting off of it.”

Whether it’s a curry powder made by an international conglomerate or an exact replica of a mix used by a renowned chef, Irani hopes that spice blends will inspire some deeper curiosity. At this point, a dish asking for black pepper doesn’t tell you much about who invented it, “but when you look at a blend, and the things they chose to put in that blend, it lets you know about the people, the way they cooked, what grew there ... what immigrant influences arrived there that brought with them these new types of spices, and how it all came together,” he says. “A really good blend, to me, is a melting pot of cuisine that lets you understand, when you look at it, the history of that region and that food.” And also it probably works on popcorn.

from Eater - All https://ift.tt/35s9woX https://ift.tt/2RdLmq8

anna.q/Shutterstock

Spice blends have never just been for “lazy” cooks, but a new generation is showing how crucial they are to any kitchen

During the home-cooking renaissance of the early aughts, “from scratch” was the bar at which every kitchen endeavor was set. To be a real home cook, the kind who put love and attention into each dish, was to make everything yourself. It was rejecting the microwave dinners and canned vegetables of your foreparents, making double stock from leftover roast chickens instead of buying broth in a carton, and eschewing pre-cut fruit and instant rice. And when it came to seasoning, you’d best not keep company with the likes of Mrs. Dash.

At least in the white-washed world of home-cooking-as-identity, premixed spice blends were considered lazy shortcuts rather than the key to coaxing out flavor. They were salt-packed and full of “preservatives” and that ghastly enemy, MSG, but more than anything, they were the tools of cheats. A cook who cared would use only the freshest whole spices, or at least mix their own blends for rubs or marinades. McCormick’s “all-purpose seasoning” did not a gourmand make.

However, a decade-plus later, these are novel times. As the pandemic continues, we’re losing the energy to keep our sourdough starters alive, and with that fatigue, the allure of the spice blend is rising. Spice companies like Penzeys and Spicewalla, as well as restaurants, have been selling more mixes than ever. Home chefs are trading intel on who makes the best adobo and why Old Bay is good for more than just crab boils. Everyone is looking for more flavor — and questioning why spice blends were derided in the first place.

“I’ve engineered it to be an easy button for people because I want them to put that shit on everything.”

“Our biggest growth area has been our blends at Spicewalla, and you can pretty much time it to the pandemic starting,” chef Meherwan Irani, who started Spicewalla in 2009, told Eater. “Our business quadrupled since the pandemic started, and the majority of that business has been blends.” He basically attributes it to home cooks realizing that if they wanted the varied flavors available to them at restaurants, they’d have to up their spice game. Chef Eric Rivera of Addo in Seattle has also seen a boost in sales of his personal blends of Puerto Rican adobo and sazón, though that had as much to do with the backlash against food giant Goya’s CEO praising Donald Trump. “I’ve been pushing it for years and nobody was really buying it, then all of a sudden the Goya thing happens and people are buying it all the time now, which is dope,” he says.

Rivera understands the ease that blends can provide. Especially for budget-tight chefs who may be doing more home cooking than ever, blends impart flavor without the cost of buying all the ingredients individually. “I’ve engineered it to be an easy button for people because I want them to put that shit on everything,” he says. And through that, people who were previously unfamiliar with Puerto Rican flavors might start to understand them a bit more. In his adobo and sazón, Rivera wanted to highlight all the culinary influences of Puerto Rico. “I have annatto in it, which ties back to Taino and Indian. There’s stuff in there like cumin and then comes the African culture and experiences,” he says. “In Puerto Rico, [sazón is] not just one branded thing.”

Sometimes, buying all the ingredients individually isn’t even possible. Jing Gao, founder of Fly By Jing, says her mala spice mix was inspired by a Sichuan chicken dish she made at private dining events, and that her whole company started as a way to bring the best flavors of China to America. “The best-quality stuff wasn’t making its way out [of China],” she says. “Wherever I traveled, I had to bring suitcases full of the chile peppers that we were using, and all the different spices, because ingredients make up everything in a food product.” The mala spice mix uses ingredients that would be hard to come by commercially in America, so even if a home chef wanted to make their own blend or use whole spices, they wouldn’t be able to match the flavor.

These chefs have heard all the complaints about spice blends being cheats, but for them, that diminishes the very real place spice blends have in a number of cuisines. “In America in a Western-centric environment, people think of blends as shortcuts,” says Irani. He notes that most commercial blends are full of salt or sugar, and are sold under blanket terms like “blackening” or “steak rub.”

It’s not just in America that spices mixes are considered cheats — ras el hanout is apparently nicknamed the “lazy wife spice” in Morocco. But looking outside Western paradigms can show chefs how integral blends can be. “In Indian cuisine we use whole spices and blends, often in the same dish,” says Irani. It’s not uncommon for a dish to start with turmeric, red chile, cumin and coriander, and be finished with garam masala. It’s not a shortcut, but an ingredient that makes the dish what it is. Just within the realm of Indian cuisine, Spicewalla has a number of blends; tandoori masala, garam masala, chaat masala, and panch phoron all have different flavor profiles and specific uses. As Irani puts it, there is no such thing as a “one-size-fits-all” blend.

Many customers probably decided to pick up garam masala and Sichuan spices for the first time because, bored with the recipes they already knew, and longing for the flavors that restaurant food used to provide, they decided to make something they’d never attempted before. Which raises the specter of appropriation, or at least of stolen valor — you are not an expert in Mexican cooking just because you sprinkled ground beef with “taco mix.” But rather than looking at spice blends as the path to mastering a culture’s cuisine, the blends’ creators see their mixes as a gateway.

Irani hopes customers approach his blends with curiosity, but he also tries to educate people on the origins of the spices and why they go together. In Spicewalla’s “Taco Collection,” which comes with three spice blends, he takes care to explain the regional herbs and chiles that make the al pastor rub different from the pescado verde seasoning. “There’s a little bit of work on the consumer’s end that needs to be done,” he says, but presumably, if they’re buying blends like berbere or za’atar to begin with, they’re hopefully interested in doing that work.

Rivera calls adobo and sazón the salt and pepper of Puerto Rican cooking, and he wants his customers to use the products exactly like that. Gao also says that putting her mala spice mix on a non-Sichuan recipe would actually be totally in the spirit of Sichuan cooking. “Sichuan cuisine has always been a fusion cuisine because it’s incorporated so many influences over thousands of years, because of this location along the Silk Road,” she says, noting even the chile pepper wasn’t introduced into Sichuan cuisine until a couple of hundred years ago, when it came from South America. “I’m not worried about it. I don’t think you can culturally appropriate a food product unless you’re profiting off of it.”

Whether it’s a curry powder made by an international conglomerate or an exact replica of a mix used by a renowned chef, Irani hopes that spice blends will inspire some deeper curiosity. At this point, a dish asking for black pepper doesn’t tell you much about who invented it, “but when you look at a blend, and the things they chose to put in that blend, it lets you know about the people, the way they cooked, what grew there ... what immigrant influences arrived there that brought with them these new types of spices, and how it all came together,” he says. “A really good blend, to me, is a melting pot of cuisine that lets you understand, when you look at it, the history of that region and that food.” And also it probably works on popcorn.

from Eater - All https://ift.tt/35s9woX via Blogger https://ift.tt/3hihIKH

[circumswoop]

perfect, really easy

I hope I can still do this. Write on my phone. Write at all. I still have a messy novel that’s really more of a deconstructed memoir buried in a google doc and I think I have a heart buried somewhere nearby too. The pilot Ben and I are trying to make has been slowed by technical misfortune, substance abuse, and literal distance. I was told from a neutral corner that my dialogue, which is my main consultancy, is too cerebral and will make the show Hard to Sell. If u gave me cash up front, I would be willing to make it dumb. If it’s spec only, I think the smartness of it swings a kind of bellum against my own boredom. It is, indirectly, a show abt a woman who’s turning 30, has two boyfriends, and is constantly thinking up ways to avoid both of them. 

I’m in a rental car with two friends in the middle of New Mexico. Scheduled to go to Marfa two weeks ago, we got into some leftover coke one of us had, mere hours out from our flight, and then nobody woke up on time. Hence the rental. This has got me fucked up, the mind-blowing lack of quality control that went into this. Who books a flight and doesn’t show up? Who does coke and then oversleeps? I now have credit toward a future flight, to a destination I can’t imagine, bc the future rn is the only thing I truly believe to be fake news. Where shd I go next–home for christmas? A beach where the sand looks and feels like broken glass? I want to breathe into a balloon til it turns into another planet where depressing inadequacy is not so elemental. I feel like a farmboy who cannot get all his chores done. This year and the whole headlong rush of this epoch toward certain death by profit cannot be sensationalized enough, and yet sensation is almost all it consists of. An indefinite, generalized body feeling is what we are all turning into as news and politics hammer us with detail. All hammer, no sickle. In the time it took to write the last paragraph, which also involved a lot of staring out the window while eating Taco Bell to be honest with you, we crossed from New Mexico into Texas. Welcome to Texas here’s your white hood. Welcome to Texas the state that killed Kennedy. Actually it was a supreme leftist who killed the centrist Kennedy, but the John Birch fascists get all the credit. Such is our myth of Texas that we empower their racists with more historical thought and influence than they ever exerted over their most famous export which is assassination.

I am in Marfa for the unaccustomed luxury of time spent with friends in an unfamiliar place.

At the start of summer I wrote in an email “even better than love’s confessions are its permissions”. According to the Invisible Committee, much of being a radical is refusal of the world. As abstention makes me feel more miserable not less, I can’t relate. Maybe the reason I can’t go full radical, or am fatally reluctant to, is I like being able to say yes a lot. Anytime I feel desolate or estranged, I get kitted out and go be seen in public even if I don’t talk to anyone. Which I usually don’t. My friend Chloe says she does this too. Love only makes sense to me as a radical act. Much of what passes for functional love in this culture is really just a bunch of hyperextended reactions to institutionalized sadness, but lots of luck finding anything better. I’d like to beat bourgeois coupling unconscious as much as any self-made cynic, but when you compare American marriage to, say, American corrections, both of which are needed systems lost for good in insane blears of greed and paranoia, abolition may not be the answer. It’s like, you can fix it only by starting over which is not the same thing as abolition. Abortion maybe, bc you can always try again if u want. Habitually getting mixed up with ppl already in committed relationships is probably just emotional vampirism. Some call it looting, I call it eating. As a marginal figure slightly on the spectrum with anxiety and repression who can still somehow lie and flirt and manipulate at the executive level all while having no interpersonal or socioeconomic prospects that I don’t want anyway, I am a really good last chance for someone with a probably basic, art-damaged kind of life. Married women always speak of their husband figures in slightly awed tones like they can’t believe how lucky they got, like the man is good in all caps and would instantly unravel at the slightest seam in the stocking. Like if he ever caught them stepping out via some OPSEC mistake they made and not even by his own subatomic awareness level, he’d be demolished simply by never having had anything go wrong for him before. Husband is such a specific kind of person-state, grown and trained, and if I were to ever try to be one i would have to hack the shit out of it–although I’m not convinced they’re any less toxic just bc they’re more high-functioning. Meanwhile the wives or wives-in-waiting pretend not to know they’re already starring in a commercial for how much sweetness and light and GOOD do not fulfil. In short, this is the kind of lawlessness that permits radical love but briefly, before turning again to refusal–the refusal to tamper with status quo, to make any kind of permanent alteration. If it’s secretly very trendy to decry structures the existence of which you not so secretly benefit from, what’s worse is to treat those structures more like fabrics to loiter in or on, or touch longingly. Essentialism doesn’t rend.

If you fall in love with someone you’re not really allowed to, and then that love goes mutual, you’re at least tagging yourself in a picture of paradise. But eventually you’ll be asked to leave. And since paradise is just a picture anyway, your image will feel decayed and exposed. Now it’s 2 days later and I’m back in New Mexico. Despite being a dreamlike Klono-state of pleasant denial, Marfa is still in Texas, the roguest of states. We drove near the Mexican border thru light so splendid the terrain looked recently refreshed. We put our hands in natural running water and looked at millipedes stranded on rocks. A thunderstorm diffused somewhere off to the side. Every picture arrives on your phone instantly airbrushed. The sky dies in pinwheels of color every evening and then reblooms like it never happened, sunsets and sunrises as breakdowns and recoveries scaled to look like natural events. Texas is beautiful but it is not art. Drive-thru banks, courthouse annexes, touchless car washes, parked backhoes, so many f150s.

Halcyon Digest, the Deerhunter record that didn’t define a decade but definitely translated it, was on repeat all summer. So we were playing that as we barreled thru arroyos and past rock formations so intricate they looked cut with string, and I remembered a night earlier in this terrible terrible summer when Ben and Andrea and I were doing coke and playing dominos at like 3am and the song Helicopter was on–that’s the one abt the Russian fashion hopeful murdered by sex traffickers. Its lyrics are too beautiful to edit so I will not reprint them here but I remember as Bradford sang “I have minimal needs/and now they are thru with me” something resetting as I looked at the faces of my friends, like a key of exquisite sadness being turned but I did not know in what lock. I’m certain it wasn’t just a drug reference, and I’m certain I won’t realize exactly what it was for years. 

On the 10 out of town, just before the Prada store, there is a zeppelin, part of the Tethered Aerostat Radar System, used by border patrol. Its role is surveillance. Unmanned, it hangs perpetually off the ground, secured by a single cable, from which it can reach altitudes of 15,000 feet, a white bulge of eerie focus, as various homing info scatters and beams. If you ran for your life, this is the thing you would imagine hovering over you, just out of frame. The kind of thing that knows it doesn’t have to hurry to get you. So run. Maybe I can still do it.