#but i gotta ferment those thoughts a little more before posting that

[linisiane]

What Kim Kitsuragi Tells Us About Fandom Ghost

I don't know if this has been said before, but I feel like another reason why Kim Kitsuragi is so wildly popular and beloved is how seamlessly he maps onto the trope of the Fanon Ghost.

Fanon Ghost is a concept that originated on Tumblr, by user wildehack, to describe the phenomenon of fandom elevating certain white male side characters from canon into main characters in fic, using a very specific set of characterization.

(Examples: wildehack focused on Star Wars' Hux's popularity in fic in comparison to characters like Finn/Poe, but others include Q from Craig!Bond verse, Arthur from Inception, Draco Malfoy, etc.)

From wildehack's defining essay:

"... prudish til you get him in bed, whereupon he is The Most Kinky, the charmingly repressed rage, the Love of Research and Order, the way lust/interest/affection is coded into irritation at The Neat and Tidy World being All Roughed Up by the hot mess of the other half of the ship?" "This crowdsourced tight-lipped furious perfectionist with his neat clothes and his scowling defensiveness and his biting sarcasm and his embarrassed desire to have a dude who is both sweaty and emotional take him apart."

Sound familiar?

Well, the terms may be a little different.

Where wildehack uses 'prudish,' 'biting sarcasm,' etc. to describe their fandom's fanon ghost, Disco fans might use 'professional,' 'dry wit,' etc. to describe Kim Kitsuragi.

But, the idea is the same, down to his embarrassing / sweaty / emotional partner. Kim Kitsuragi is Fanon Ghost if fanon ghost weren't a white male side character.

quick detour that'll become relevant later: i feel SO smug about the fact that Kim's characterization is canon to Disco Elysium. You had to make up your own perfect blorbo, but ours came like that! And he's not a white character being used to ignore POC main characters!

wildehack's essay started a conversation on why fandoms gravitate towards "This One Crowdsourced Dude," even when he doesn't exist in canon. And when there are other, often more established, minority main characters to work with.

There are a bunch of responses to this question—the FandomLore article I'm referencing this discussion from has a bunch of the full metas—ranging from exploring why he's often white and what exactly about him appeals to fandom. I think Kim's popularity can be really helpful in sorting my thoughts to these responses.

For instance, there are two general responses as to why the Fandom Ghost is usually a white side character:

Whiteness is considered a a blank slate default, making it easier to write about without fear of misrepresentation/mischaracterization

VS

White men are considered more desirable/more relatable by fandom.

It's probably a mix of the two, but I think a fascinating THIRD take is that these white side characters in canon aren't just blank slates, but also share minor traits that all point to One Trope that causes people to obsess.

certifiedspacetrash postulated that the fandom ghost is actually a reskinning of a much older beloved archetype—the byronic hero: a character notable for being hard to like and hard to know, but usually possessing a rich inner life and a softer side accessible only to a special few. (Sound familiar?)

He theorized that part of the reason we don't see many POC Fandom Ghosts is because mainstream medias don't cast byronic traits onto POC characters.

"I think if Hollywood cast more young, striking actors who happen to be PoC, women etc as villains / byronic heores we would see lots of fanfic of them. But Hollywood is still in some weirdass reaction to being accused of racial stereotyping (which they 100% still do), and almost refuse to cast poc or women as bad guys. If they are, they’re either cast very old; or they’re the mary sue badguys - 100% beautiful, geniuses, incredibly powerful, no flaws whatsoever - and that tends not to inspire a lot of writers."

I find this take fascinating with Disco Elysium in mind because of the way Kim Kitsuragi is the exception that proves the rule.

Kim Kitsuragi is a rare, well-written mixed Asian character with byronic traits. And would you look at that?—Kim Kitsuragi has captured the hearts and minds of basically every Disco Elysium enjoyer ever.

Kim Kitsuragi is notably NOT overshadowed by Jean Vicquemare, who is a white side character with byronic traits that, in an alternate universe, could've been possessed by the Fandom Ghost to overshadow Kim. Jean, in our universe, already has a pretty big fandom in proportion to his screentime.

But, by the grace of moments where Harry can get Kim to "give a smile only you can see," Kim Kitsuragi is the breakout star of Disco Elysium. I find that hopeful, in a time where Asian male characters (outside of Asia, ofc) are often overlooked or boxed in or emasculated.

[xxkinkyskunkxx]

Do you like prompts? I have one: Joseph infusing his farts with Hamon in battles and trying to teach Caesar how to do it too. Joseph uses this against the Pillar Men and they Hate. It.

I LOVE prompts! Thanks for sending this in! I’m gonna say this is when the Pillar Men first awaken and Joseph is trying to find a technique that’s comparable to Caesar’s bubbles to look cool (which in canon he ends up using the clackers). Also Speedwagon isn’t here...for his nose’s sake. Hope you like it! ^v^ 🖤🤍

CW below the cut for eproctophilia!

“Looks like you’re fine, Caesarino! Just a slice to your eyelid, not your actual eye.” Joseph says happily, pulling the blonde’s lid open crudely.

Caesar was still a bit dazed from the attack Wamuu had just inflicted on him. It left him with slices all over his body and face, ripping up his outfit and leaving him a bit confused. While he was dazed though, it gave the goofball in the room time to show off his not-so-great Hamon skills.

“Wamuu.” A deep voice called to the blonde Pillar Man, making the behemoth stand to his feet in attention. “We will be going. Take care of these humans as you see fit, Esidisi and I shall meet you outside the mines.”

Wamuu nodded, his masters heading out to get some fresh air after their long slumber. He went to follow them, not caring to waste anymore time with these humans, before a voice echoed through the caves.

“AHEM! AHEM! I think you’re missing someone here! The true Hamon master in the room!” Joseph calls out, whipping out his clackers and surging Hamon through them.

The three Pillar Men turned, giving blank looks to Joseph.

“You need to try my clacker volleys before you judge th—!”

Joseph was cut off when he watched the largest Pillar Man sent a puff of air his way, slicing the balls off of their strings just as he began his speech. The brunette whined loudly, kneeling as he tried to get his clackers back, but they were done for.

“OH NO! Why would you do that?!” He yelled, looking up at the monsters in the room. One of them in the back seemed to hold a hand over his mouth to stifle a giggle, making Joseph even madder. “You know I—..!”

Groooowwllll...

Joseph clutched his stomach, suddenly feeling a wave of pressure in his gut. Damn it! Why did he have that damn black spaghetti?! He knew pasta gave him gas! Then again, he didn’t know he’d be fighting three giant men who just came out of a wall. He stayed kneeling a moment, trying to think of what to do, clenching to keep himself from blasting ass right at this serious moment. But then, he got an idea...

Caesar looked from his post, still a bit hazy from Wamuu tossing him across the room. He looked at Joseph kneeling down, trying to figure out what in the world he was planning. He watched Joseph wobble to his feet, green eyes glimmering with the smallest bit of hope. Had he actually discovered a new way to use his Hamon, like his own Hamon bubble launcher? Perhaps he should have some more faith and—

fffFRRRAAAP..!

Caesar’s mouth is agape in shock. Did he just..? He didn’t...

The Pillar Men all have different reactions. Kars’ face is filled with pure disgust, covering his nose and pinching it. Esidisi covers his face as well, secretly holding back a giggle. Wamuu is completely unamused, looking down at the human in pure disgust.

“Hahah! How does that smell?!” Joseph boasts, hands on his hips. “Like Hamon?! I bet it does!~”

Caesar goes to speak, before holding back a gag, pinching his nose like Kars. Good God. What did Joseph eat?! That’s awful, even for someone already so disgusting like Joseph!

“Caesar!” Joseph called to Caesar, to his dismay, looking back at the blonde. “I know you were on that date earlier! Surely you’ve got some gas back there! Infuse your Hamon into it and burn their lungs!”

“...Joseph are you kidding me?”

“What..?! C’mon! You just gotta—!” Joseph pauses, squatting slightly and furrowing his brow. One eye shuts, brows furrowing as he grunts and pushes again.

prrrt..!

Caesar smacks a hand on his face, dragging it down. ‘We’re doomed...’ He thought.

“At least try!” Joseph whined, loosening his belt a bit to help his slightly bloated tummy. “C’mon! It’s just like Hamon breathin’! You just gotta..."

BLURRRTT..!

Wamuu had to cover his mouth as well now. Admittedly, it did bring the sting of Hamon into his own lungs, but he wasn’t going to say that. Humans are absolutely repulsive even 2000 years later.

“Caesar! Just try! Just once for me, please?!” Joseph called out, pressing on his stomach to try and move more gas out. “I know you had all that pasta and wine on your little date! You gotta be a bit gassy!”

The Zeppeli sighed, leaning up against the wall as he caught his breath from being attacked. He may as well try if it meant hurting these monsters.

“Wamuu, we’ll be leaving. Deal with them.” Kars groaned, turning around with Esidisi as they left.

bbbrrrRBRBRBBBRAP!!

“There you go..!” Joseph gave a big smile as he looked over at his blonde partner, before he groans and covers his mouth. “Oh my God Caesar...”

The blonde blushed, groaning as he covered his face in embarrassment. He hates Joseph so much already. Disgusting...

“That was a good strong one though!” Joseph applauded Caesar, giving a big thumbs up. “At that rate that big guy will—!”

BBBBLOOOOORRRT..!

Caesar and Joseph both looked up in horror at the remaining Pillar Man, who stood there solemnly as if he didn’t just unleash the most horrid and disgusting fart the two boys had ever heard or smelt in their lives.

“Good LORD..!” Joseph groaned, muffled behind his hands. “Did you rip a hole through that loincloth..?!”

“Your childish games do not amuse me.” Wamuu spoke, turning around to walk away and meet his Masters outside. “Go on and leave before I feel more rumbling in my stomach. I’ve been asleep for two millennium and I assure you I’ve got a lot of gas that has been fermenting inside of me that entire time...”

Joseph and Caesar were silent, nearly knocked out by those noxious fumes filling the cave in an instant. Wamuu started to walk out, his cheeks a dusty pink from embarrassment. How uncouth...at least his Lords didn’t have to witness that. Still, it felt so good to finally get that out. Hopefully those humans will survive the other air he passes as he walks out of the caves. He appreciated their fighting spirit, despite how crude they both were with their techniques.

[myriadismx]

Making Kimchi!

Two years ago, I  binge-watched the K-drama Late Night Restaurant, and after I was done with episode 6, “Steamed Spareribs and Kimchi”, I had a huge craving for some kimchi despite never tasted it before. The closest thing I had to it was some packaged kimchi ramen, which I also greatly enjoyed. 

I was able to find ready-to-eat kimchi at the supermarket, but then I thought “what if I make it myself? Sure it’s cheaper and can get away with more than this ridiculously small jar!”.

An hour later, I gathered the stuff I needed and got to work. Napa cabbage is the one traditionally used for kimchi, and the paste to season it is made with gochugaru (Korean pepper flakes, though I had so little of it that I also used gochujang), garlic, ginger (forgot to picture it!), fish sauce, and unsweetened apple juice. Carrots, daikon radish, and green onions are the veggies that complement kimchi. For my first try, I couldn’t find daikon radish so I used regular radishes, but it’s okay if you skip them or just use one or two as they have a strong taste and I fucking hate them. 

After cutting the nappa cabbage in quarts and washing them thoroughly, put them into a big bowl with the julienned carrots and radishes, and sliced green onions. Rub them with 1/4 cup of salt (preferably kosher) and let them sit for 2 hours, massaging the vegetables every 30 minutes. Then cover them with cold water and brine for another 2-4 hours or until the vegetables are slightly tender. Afterwards, drain the brine and rinse the vegetables until they are not overly salty. 

While the vegetables are soaking, make the paste in a food processor. I used 5 cloves of garlic, a 1-inch piece of ginger, 1/4 cup of gochugaru, 1 peeled shredded apple, or 1/4 cup of unsweetened apple juice (you gotta feed those good bacteria!), a small piece of onion, and 2 tablespoons of fish sauce. 

Once the paste has covered the veggies, cram them in glass jars, leaving an inch of space and pour a bit of brine to cover the vegetables. You can use plastic ones, but I prefer glass as they can be sterilized and don’t retain odors. Trust me, kimchi is odoriferous! (In lieu of jars, Ziploc bags also work!).

Cover the jars with their lids but don’t screw them tight! This thing will ferment and leak, so I recommend putting a plate underneath the jars to collect any juices that might come out. Place the jars in a dark place at room temperature, and let them ferment for 2 to 5 days. Check on them every day, pushing the cabbage down to release the bubbles and keep it submerged in that deliciously spicy juice. I prefer to wait 3 days before refrigerating.

Once you let it ferment, your kimchi is ready to eat! However, if you are going to use it in recipes and not as a side dish, I’d recommend to let yout kimchi ferment in the fridge for at least a month, there the fermentation process goes at a much slower rate. The longer it ferments, the flavors deepen and the spiciness mellows with time! (though I do add a couple of chiles de árbol because I like it very hot).

You can make kimchi with a wide variety of vegetables, though I have yet to try other recipes! Next time I might be making a cucumber or green cabbage one! 

Tagging @andypantsx3 and  @huntersxhunted because they are both fans of this smelly pickle! Also, I dedicate this post to my late niece Fanny because she was as crazy about kimchi with pork ribs as I am (like the two fat girls from the aforementioned episode).

[jadelotusflower]

Fic: He Will Not Encumber Me (Han, Luke, OT era)

Luke gets drunk - Han cleans up the mess.

On A03 or under the cut

There were two things the Rebels did well, in Han Solo’s opinion. The first was hail a loss as a victory simply because it was not annihilation, and the second was to keep a well stocked bar in every officer’s mess. There was of course an obvious correlation between the two. 

It had been another brutal, demoralising loss for the Alliance, and Han wasn’t sure how many of those they had left in them. Yet what was left of the rebels celebrated because there was still a rebellion to be fought and therefore, still hope.

The embodiment of that hope was surrounded by a throng of fellow pilots, being hailed and toasted, fresh drinks being pressed into his hand the moment he finished the last one. Han had arrived late and took up his usual spot at the bar sipping a glass of Corellian whiskey, not quite ready to celebrate yet another brush with death. 

Of course, he didn’t blame the kid; he’d been promoted after all, and deserved at least one night to enjoy it with a drink - or fifteen. Han noted with amusement the wide grin that didn’t once falter, the blearly, unfocused look to the eyes, the slightly delayed reactions, and every now and then, distinct giggling. 

The newly minted Commander Skywalker was drunk. 

That in and of itself should not seem unusual, but it was rare to see Luke in such a state. Han remembered the first time he’d seen Luke drink alcohol, in those heady few hours after the medal ceremony on Yavin but before the evacuation. The ale had been flowing free then too, but while Luke had consumed as much as any of them, it hadn’t seemed to affect him in the same way, or at least not as quickly. 

He’d expected to be entertained by a fresh-off-the-farm boy scout giddy on victory and his first taste of real whiskey. But while his new friend and fellow survivor Antilles had slumped down onto the bar, laughing softly to himself and still clutching his glass, Luke had been perched happily on the stool beside him ordering another. 

“You drank in the Mos Eisley Cantina right?” Luke had said when Han had questioned him. 

“Yeah,” he’d confirmed, and made a face. “I didn’t think it was legal to sell distilled engine grease.”

“It’s Tatooine,” Luke had laughed darkly. “It’s only illegal if the Hutts don’t like it. But we have a saying too - if you can ferment it or distill it, you can drink it.”

“Whether you live to drink it again is not the barkeep’s problem I guess.”

“In Mos Eisley, sure - in Anchorhead they relied on repeat business,” Luke told him with a shrug. “But it was no less potent, there was a sill out the back using whatever desert plants we could get our hands on.”

“Tatooine moonshine, huh?” Han had lifted his glass in salute. “I’m impressed kid.”

But Luke’s tolerance for alcohol seemed to go beyond a familiarity with the strong stuff - of course there was also his metabolism that Han liked to joke was faster than the Falcon on the Kessel Run. He’d once seen the kid put away three dozen spiced ribenes (with a side order of tomo-slaw), chase them with a basket of deep fried tubers and still have room for half a sic-six layer cake. 

He won every drinking game he was challenged to for a year after joining the Rebellion, which always ended up with his opponent either slumped on the floor, vomiting into a trash can, or on one ignoble occasion, in the medward getting their stomach pumped. They’d all been given a week’s latrine duty after that, and drinking games expressly banned. 

Of course, the Alliance couldn’t police what happened planetside, and more than once when they’d been in need of some quick funds Han had tried to persuade him to invite challenge in the local bar. Luke had always refused, but had eventually told him the reason in that way of his - half pride, half humility.

“It’s the Force Han,” he’d said. “If I concentrate, I can feel the alcohol in my bloodstream, push it along and make it metabolise quickly.”

“The Force.” Han had been unconvinced. “Okay then.”

“I’m serious, Han. I think I’ve been doing it unconsciously all my life, but now I can control it.”

“Well kid,” Han had slapped his shoulder, and grinned. “Finally an upside to this Jedi business! So let’s pick a mark and we’ll have the credits for the parts we need by morning.”

Luke had shaken his head and sighed in exasperation. “Don’t you see, it gives me an advantage. It wouldn’t be fair.”

“Fair would be me enjoying a Corellian sunset with a beautiful woman and surrounded by piles of credits, not on this junk planet with you scrounging for spare parts.” Han threw up his hands. “No one in this joint is playing fair - the barkeep’s watering down the whiskey, the sabacc dealer’s got cards up his sleeve, even that slot machine on the wall is rigged. Everyone’s a cheat, you just gotta be the best one.”

“Not me.” Luke was resolute, and while Han secretly admired his firm moral stance, in reality it just made things that much harder for them. 

They’d made it off the planet eventually, but Han had never questioned Luke’s alcohol tolerance again. 

Which was why the scene before him was so strange. Han watched Luke closely for a few more minutes, trying to determine if it was artifice. But when Luke knocked over a decanter and began apologising profusely to a potted plant rather than the bartender, he decided it couldn’t be. 

There was only one explanation left - that Luke was drunk because he wanted to be. 

Han wasn’t sure if he was relieved the kid was giving himself a much needed release, or deeply concerned that he was seeking a desperate escape. He sidled his way over to the throng surrounding Luke, hovering on the outskirts of the pilot pack. 

Wedge Antilles clinked a fork against the side of his glass and announced he was going to make a speech. Oddly, the young pilot always kept a fork on his person, and when Han had once called it weird, Wedge had given him a wry look. 

“What’s weird is putting something in your mouth that’s had a thousand other tongues on it,” he’d said, and pointed his fork at him. “Think about it.”

“No thanks,” Han had said politely, avoiding the low hanging fruit of the unintended double entendre. Others hadn’t his restraint, and since then the fork in question, and Wedge’s penchant for a clean utensil (double entendre absolutely intended) had been the source of much fun. 

“Alright Antilles,” called another pilot Han couldn’t remember the name of. “Stop banging it about!”

“Yeah, keep that thing sheathed,” yet another rejoined. “There are minors present!” He put his arm around a colleague who Han knew was of age, but had a boyish face that had earned him the nickname Baby. They all had little names for each other outside their call signs, which could change from mission to mission and through movement between squadrons. Luke had, for obvious reasons after Yavin, been given the name Starkiller.

“Oh kriff off the lot of you,” Wedge made a rude gesture, but was smiling, unoffended.  “I’m going to make my speech.”

He made quite a show of clearing his throat until they were all listening. “To Luke,” he raised his glass, “or should I say, Sir.” He gave a little mock curtsy and no one laughed harder than the man himself.

“I remember the first time I met Luke,” he reminisced. “When he told me quite nonchalantly that his favourite pastime on Tatooine was shooting at desert rats, and I thought this guy is in for a rude awakening once he actually gets in a proper ship. Seriously, Luke,” Wedge wagged a finger at him. “There’s no rats in space.”

“Says you,” Luke laughed. “The Executor’s full of them!”

“But much to my surprise,” Wedge continued, “the Empire’s most dangerous weapon blew up like many a mangry rodent before it, thanks to my friend the Starkiller. Since then there’s no one else I’d rather fly alongside, even if I now have to call him Sir for the privilege.” 

Wedge gave him a lazy salute and raised his glass. “To Commander Skywalker!”

“Commander Skywalker!” the cheer went through the room, and Wedge clapped Luke on the shoulder as they downed their ales at a rapid pace. The former finished first, wiping his mouth and banging his empty glass down on the bar.

“Okay, enough speeches,” he threw his hands up in the air. “Let’s dance!”

Han was content to leave them to it, leaning against the bar and savoring his whiskey. It was good to see Luke let loose a bit - the poor kid rarely got the chance since between his obligations to the Rebellion and trying to train himself to be a Jedi, Han didn’t know when Luke had time to sleep, let alone have fun. Now he’d been promoted to command, another burden he seemed happy to take upon himself without thought of the consequences. 

He’d had seen it too many times among pilots and revolutionaries - they shone bright and burned out quickly, taking on more responsibility, more risk, until their luck ran out. But there was no reasoning with the kid - Han had tried, and Leia was no help, she was exactly the same way. So he had to content himself with keeping close, watching over Luke, ready to pull him back from the brink when he strayed too close.

Han sighed as he signalled to the barkeep for another drink. How he’d become mother hen to these rag-tag rebels, he didn’t know. But there is was. 

Aggressive rock music blared over the speakers, and Han watched in amusement Luke banging his head along in time with the heavy drum beats, mouthing the words and moving his feet with surprising rhythm. It was one of those anti-Imperial anthems, played in many an underground club to whip people into a rebellious frenzy, and a popular choice among the young pilots looking to offload some post-battle energy. 

Well, the other popular choice, Han smirked as he saw a few pilots pair up and scoot off to celebrate surviving another day. A few hopefuls sidled up to Luke, and while he danced and laughed and shared a drink with them, one by one they gave up as they realised he wasn’t the one-night stand type. He'd learned the hard way early on; his mission with Nakari Kalen had been the beginnings of a sweet romance until it had ended in tragedy, and the other brief relationships he'd observed Luke have had seemed to have made him battle-shy. After the losses that day, Han didn't blame him. 

Eventually the revelry died down - Wedge passed out on the lounge snoring loudly, and a few others sprawled out less comfortably on the floor. But Luke had held out, and stumbled over to Han at the bar with a boozy grin.

“What’re drinking?” Luke asked, reaching for the still mostly full bottle Han had slowly been working on.

“Something too expensive to waste on someone already drunk.” Han pulled the bottle out of his reach.

Luke laughed. “Aw, come on Han.”

“I think you’ve had enough anyway,” Han stowed the whiskey behind the bar, counting that Luke no longer had the physical dexterity to reach over it. “I’m cutting you off.”

“You can’t boss me around anymore, Han.” Luke leaned heavily on the bar.  “I’m a Commander now - I outrank you.”

“Is that so?” Han was about to remind him that his title of Captain was because of his ship, not a rank in the Alliance military, but it there was little point.  

“Yeah, it’s so.” Luke poked him in the chest. “I can just say, Captain Solo, fetch me a hydrospanner, or Captain Solo, stop flirting so outrageously with Leia, and you have to comply.”

Han chuckled to himself and patted Luke on the shoulder. “I don’t think that’s how it works, kid.”

“And you don’t get to call me kid anymore.” Luke brushed him away.

“Alright, Commander,” Han humoured him. “Tell you what. You walk from one side of this room to the other unaided and you can have as many more drinks as you want."

Luke stared at him for a few long moments, glanced at the large transparisteel window that made up one wall, and the exit located at the other. He straightened and cleared his throat, but then closed his eyes as if the room was spinning. 

“Fine.” He pouted and leaned back against the bar. “Spoilspot.”

“Hey, you’re the Starkiller,” Han joked, “I’m the Fun Killer.”

Luke laughed more than even Han felt the remark warranted. “You’re funny,” he slurred, and laughed again. “Do you know you’re funny?” 

“Yeah, I know.” He surveyed the room, not for the first time noting a significant absence. “Leia wasn’t here tonight.”

Luke shrugged. “Strategy meetings. After today, I guess they have a lot to talk about.”

“What, and leaving out the exalted Commander Skywalker?” 

“I’m excepted...expected tomorrow.”

Han eyed him, thinking it would take a miracle for Luke to have sobered up by then. He leaned over the bar and poured a glass of water from the tap, forcing it into the kid’s hand.

“She did come by and congratulate me,” Luke said as he took a sip. “Kissed me too.”

“What?” Han felt a traitorous tug in his heart.

“Here.” Luke pointed to his cheek, and Han was disturbed by how much he was relieved. Their shared affection for Leia was something they never talked about, and Han could barely acknowledge he had affection for Leia, even to himself. But Luke was drunk, and therefore more likely to be more forthcoming than he usually was, and less likely to remember it.

“So, a kiss huh?” Han knew it was unscrupulous, but had to know. “And did you reciprocate?”

Luke blinked at him. “She didn’t get promoted.”

Han ran a hand over his face and laughed. “Okay, kid. But you like her right?”

“Of course, she’s my friend.”

It was like talking to a toddler. “No, I mean more than that,” he pressed, rethinking his approach. “For example, what do you feel, when you look at her?”

Luke furrowed his brow and it took him several moments to respond, as if he’d never had to put his feelings into words before. 

“I feel...kinship.”

Han thought it was an odd word to describe attraction, and for the first time wondered whether Luke’s feelings for Leia were more platonic than he’d assumed. He’d certainly never pursued her, or made any kind of romantic overture, seemingly content with their friendship as it was. On the other hand, Han had never made any overtures either, although that was because he didn’t think he’d get the response he wanted, and then what he did have with her would be soured. 

“Why?” Luke asked him. “What do you feel when you look at her?”

Han cleared his throat. “Yeah, same as you. Kinship and all that.”

Luke narrowed his eyes and gave him one of those appraising stares that when sober made Han feel as if the kid was reading his thoughts, but didn’t have the same effect when Luke could barely stand upright. He just looked like he was squinting. 

“So Rogue Squadron huh?” Han changed to subject. “Good name.”

“Yeah,” Luke nodded, thankfully distracted. “It seemed right.”

“From what they say around here that Jyn Erso was quite the dame.”

Luke nodded again, staring off into the middle distance. “I’ve been thinking about them a lot lately. Do you think it’s possible to miss people you never even met?”

“Never gave it much thought.”

“There was so much I wanted to ask them,” Luke sighed. “She wore a kyber crystal on a necklace, did you know that? I wonder if there was a Jedi in her family, something she could have told me about them. And they say Chirrut Imwe was a monk, guarding  knowledge of the Force at the temple on Jedha. I wish…”

“Yeah, but Luke.” Han touched his arm. “If they were still here, we wouldn’t be.”

“I know.” Luke blinked, his eyes wet. “They died so we could continue the fight. Like half the fleet today.”

“It’s what our lives have become,” Han sighed. “You know it was halfway through this little shindig I realised that other than you and Antilles, I didn’t know anyone’s real name.”

Luke looked at him ruefully. “You actually have to talk to people to learn their names you know.”

“Hmn.” Han swirled the whiskey in his glass. “You ever hear of Lernaean, kid?”

Luke shook his head.

“Vile water planet,” Han shuddered, thinking of his one and only visit, since no bounty could ever convince him to return. “They have some kind of ocean serpent there, living in the depths. You have the misfortune to come across one of ‘em, turn and run.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because it can’t be killed,” Han told him putting down his glass. “Cut off its head, and two grow in its place. Cut off those two, you got four to deal with, you get it?”

“Like us,” Luke nodded. “They can take out a cell of rebels, they can destroy half our fleet, but there will always be more of us.”

“No, kid,” Han said, taking him by the shoulders. “It’s not like you at all, that’s the point! Because the Empire kills a rebel, and there aren’t two to take his place. There’s just one less rebel to worry about, and one day there won’t be any.”

“How can you say that?” Luke shook him off. “More are joining our cause all the time!”

Han shook his head - he really was just a kid. “What do you think the casualties were today - five hundred maybe? You got a thousand new recruits lined up?” 

Luke’s lower lip trembled, and he took a shaky breath. “Why are you saying this Han?”

“I just want to know what your endgame is Luke,” Han pressed. “At what point do you pack it in, and say enough is enough?”

Luke raised his chin, looking up at Han with that zealous fire he had. “We don’t. We fight until we either win, or we die.”

“Simple as that?”

“Yeah.”

Han sighed again, and drowned the last of his whiskey. “And you wonder why I don’t bother to learn anyone’s name.”

“Well leave, if you think we’re such a lost cause.” Luke pushed at Han’s chest. “Go pay off Jabba and go back to whatever life you had before this. I don’t need you looking out for me.”

He pushed off the bar and clearly attempted to stride off to punctuate his point, but instead tripped over his own feet and went careering towards the floor. 

“It’s alright kid,” Han caught him by the arms and lifted him upright. “I got you.”

“Commander,” Luke murmured, and was then promptly sick in a potted plant.  

“Get command of your digestive system, and we’ll talk.” Han grasped a napkin off the bar and crouched down to hand it to Luke. 

“This is disgusting,” he moaned pitifully and wiped his mouth. 

“Welcome to the world of mere mortals.” Han gave him water so he could rinse out his mouth. “Come on.” He hauled Luke to his feet and lopped the kid’s arm around his shoulders to steady him.

“I’m never drinking again,” Luke groaned as Han helped him back his quarters and lay him on the bunk.

“Yeah, that’s what they all say.” Spying Luke’s lightsaber on the side table, Han moved it to a high shelf just in case. Seeing nothing else that could pose a danger - Luke kept his room depressingly clean - Han sat down on the bunk to unlace his boots.

“Maybe you’re right Han,” Luke said despondently. “Maybe this is a lost cause.”

“Ah, don’t listen to me.” Han decided to leave Luke’s socks on, and swung his feet up onto the bunk.

“I still have to fight,” Luke continued, staring at the ceiling. “Even if there’s only a fool’s hope.”

That’s exactly what it was, but Han held his tongue and patted Luke’s leg in acknowledgement.

“But you don’t have to,” Luke murmured, eyes fluttering closed. “I know this isn’t a comfortable life.”

“Yeah, well neither’s smuggling,” Han conceded. “Although the pay is better.”

Luke opened one eye. “When we met you were up to your eyes in debt to Jabba.”

He couldn’t argue with that. “Yeah but when I met an Imperial cruiser, I could drop the sprice shipment. Can’t shoot the Empire’s Most Wanted out the airlock,” he gave him a wink, “as much as I’d like to sometimes.”

Luke chuckled, eye closing again and head lolling to one side on the pillow. 

“I have to leave eventually though,” Han said softly. After all, he was still in hock to Jabba up to his eyeballs, and who knew how much longer it would be before the slug sent some goon looking to take payment in blood.

“Hnm.” Luke seemed to be drifting off, so Han pulled the blanket up over him and patted his shoulder. He located an empty rubbish bin and moved it to the side of the bunk for easy access should Luke wake up and need to be sick again, which based on the kids complexion was highly likely. A quick sweep of the room left him satisfied, and he made his way to the door.

“Han?” Luke muttered, and when Han turned back he seemed asleep, but must have been only nearly so.

“Yeah?”

“That water snake - anyone ever kill it?”

Han smiled, tapping his fingers against the doorframe. “Not yet,” he said. “Who knows, maybe you will.”

The door slid closed behind him, and Han headed down the corridor to his own quarters, thinking that if anyone could slay a monster like that, he’d bet on it being Luke. And maybe - just maybe - he'd be there to see it.

[thefirelordandtheambassador]

close your eyes and i’ll close mine

Zutara Week 2020 Submission (“reunion”)

Rating: T for Teens 

Length: 3,186 words @zutaraweek Cross-posted on AO3 under one work titled “all that i hoped would change within me stayed (god only knows which of them i'll become)”  “Get off my shit, rabbit-squirrel-brains!” Toph hollers, and Katara whips around, away from the rapidly approaching horizon, away from the lure of the sea. She watches, non-plussed, as Toph dive-bombs a young soldier, who has tried to move some luggage to a more convenient spot on the boat. Ember Island, well, it doesn’t loom, but it approaches like a nervous servant--Katara will never get used to the servants that seem to appear like mist or ghosts, at the Earth Kingdom Palace, at General Iroh’s apartments in Ba Sing Se, at Toph’s parents’ house when she visited last year with her-- “for moral support and elbow-holding.”

“I’m sorry, miss! I just have to move things!” Katara bites at her lips, trying desperately to hide a snicker. Toph is wrestling him to the deck, clearly attempting to keep him away from her bag.

“I see you, mocking that poor boy,” jibes a soft, smoky voice to her side. She looks up--it’s Zuko.

“Not going play referee?” asks Sokka, following up behind him.

“Mmm, not today,” Katara muses, tossing her hair into the breeze. It is nice to be back on the ocean. She’s spent the last six months in a border town of the Si Wong Desert, negotiating with the sand-benders. Before that, she was in Ba Sing Se on official ambassadorial duties for the Southern Water Tribe for about a year, and then before that, she’d been providing aid for some of the rural interior Earth Kingdom towns for something like eighteen months. Most eighteen-year-olds she knows are either in school, or married with a kid on the way, but she’s single and doing the heavy diplomatic and charitable work of a woman twice her age.

“Oh, look, she’s going easy on him,” Zuko notes drily, as Toph shoves the poor kid into a door. “He’ll get off with just a concussion, instead of a broken arm like the last guy.”

The past few years have been good to Zuko--it’s been almost three years since she’s had a chance to visit. He’ll be twenty tomorrow, and he’s grown. Really grown. He’s easily over six feet tall, and his hair is so long now that what isn’t caught up in his topknot rolls over his shoulder. He has one of those formal shoulder pieces on that Katara desperately hopes will go out of style soon, but it doesn’t do much to the chest that has already grown broader and more muscular. And he was no lanky twig like Sokka during the war, either, she muses.

“Well, someone’s gotta get those boys in shape--she’s taken to teaching a little too well, in her old age,” Katara snarks back, smiling. Zuko smiles back, golden eyes softening. His face has thinned out too, cheekbones standing out elegantly, even under the scar. He looks real good.

“Well, at least you got out of being such a turbulent sixteen-year-old; can’t say I wasn’t beating people up at her age. So, uh, how are you and Aang, ah, doing these days?” There’s the awkward turtle-duck, out and about for a toddle around the pond.

Sokka barks a laugh, walks away, throws an arm around Toph.

She smiles ruefully, “You know, we’re taking a break. I think we both need it; we’re apart so often, you know? He’s flying here from the Western Air Temple and will meet us at the summer house. It’ll be good to see him again. It’s good to see all of you again, really. Ambassadorial life is pretty lonely.”

“Meanwhile, I feel like I can never get a moment alone these days. Always papers to sign, emissaries to greet, Fire Sages up my ass about everything. I’m glad you all could come to celebrate. I thought a little reunion would be nice. I’m just missing Uncle,” he says with a sigh. They turn, and lean against the railing.

“He misses you too--I stayed at his apartments in Ba Sing Se over the New Year. It was good to see a familiar face,” she says. The breeze whips around them, and Katara’s nose is overwhelmed with the smell of amber musk, something roast-y, and rich sandalwood. “Are...are you wearing cologne?!”

Zuko pinks.

“The Earth Kingdom ambassador got it for me for a birthday gift! She said it was indispensable for any young nobleman! Is it too much?” She softens. It is good to be back with friends--with him.

“No, no,” she says, and sticks her nose onto his sleeve, “I like it. It smells nice on you.” Underneath the cologne, she gets that warm man-smell. She misses that smell, from time to time, if she’s being honest with herself.

“Oh good. He said to go easy on it. Um, Katara?”

“Oh, sorry!” She’s lingered too long. But looking up into his eyes, they are still molten and soft. It’s her turn to pink, and she looks back to the sea. They are close to the docks. “I guess I’m just a little tired. I am so ready for this mini-vacation.”

“You deserve it. Uncle says you do the work of a woman twice your age.”

The beach house is just as she remembers it, but somehow, fuller, livelier. Zuko’s stocked it with paintings of the whole team, plants with bright summer blooms heavy with scent, curios from his travels. There’s only two servants, blessedly, a cook and a maid who greet them at the door.

“It looks nice in here! So bright and happy!” cheers Suki. “It was kinda sad when we stayed here last time.”

“Thanks. Uncle’s sent me enough tea and teapots to fill a whole bookshelf,” Zuko shrugs, “but I wanted it to be fun again, so Kiyi and Mom can come and enjoy themselves, you know? Get rid of the sad nostalgia, make room for new memories. Maybe we could have regular reunions here.”

“Heck yeah!” chimes Toph, hefting her bag. “I am so ready for some vacation time!” Things are dropped in rooms, and Katara is convinced to join the group at the beach, even though the things that sound the best right now are to sink into the fluffy white covers of the bed she’s been given and have a deep, sun-soaked nap, dreaming away the afternoon for the first time in years.

She pads out, yawning, in her swimsuit, and looks around, trying to remember where the towels were stored last time. She turns too quickly, and runs into something soft, clean, cottony-- a stack of towels?

“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry, Rina...” Katara stammers, but it’s not the maid. It’s Zuko, who is shirtless and ready for the beach. Her heart thumps a few times and her blood seems to rush a little faster in her veins, because his trunks sling low on his sharp hipbones, and thank Tui and La that she managed to that chest scar to fade to something more dashing. A trail of hair follows his bellybutton down into those trunks...and she’s just gonna stop that thought-canoe and turn it right back upriver.

“Oh, Rina’s packing us some rice balls for snacks, do you have any requests? I know you like pickled ocean kumquats...” He trails off too, sticking a hand behind his head sheepishly. His mane of hair is knotted messily on the back of his head.

“Any flavor is fine!” she squeaks. “Let’s go! I can’t wait for dip! It’s so lovely out today!”

“It is,” he agrees, and scoops up the towels, flinging them over his shoulder. His hand brushes hers lightly as they take the path down to the black sand beach.

Aang arrives just in time for dinner. Rina brings out a sumptuous feast of all their favorites: hippo-cow braised in soy sauce and ginger, rooster-pig spare ribs deep fried and dusted with lime zest and chilis ground to a fine powder, crispy garlic arctic whale-shrimp, a sweet and sour sprouted bean curd, and a miraculous leg of caribou that is roasted and covered in a pearly sauce that is delicately scented and made Sokka cry when it was set down in front of him.

“I tried to make sure we all got something we liked,” Zuko admits, seated comfortably at the head of the table. He’s placed Katara on his right, Toph on his left, and Katara doesn’t mind this. The maid has served what seems like a hundred side dishes, which keeps her plenty occupied, instead of having to make awkward eye contact with Aang. Katara picks up spicy fermented cucumber-melon, braised potatoes and peppers, sautéed pea shoots, and takes a little bit of all the main dishes. “And, my father left one gift: that quite amazing selection of wines and spirits.”

Katara and Suki have been enjoying the plum wine, and Sokka and Toph have turned drinking shots of soju into some kind of game, and are easily drinking Aang under the table already. She hasn’t enjoyed herself, been so relaxed and at ease, in a long time.

“Here, Katara, have you ever had these? They’re a specialty of Ember Island,” Zuko says softly. She turns to him, his chopsticks clutching some noodles like glass threads, mixed with tomato-carrots and green onions. She shakes her head no, and he offers her a bite, guiding the chopsticks to her mouth. They slip in, yummy, and she slurps the last few over her lips.  

“Sorry, country manners,” she says, covering her face and blushing.

“No, no, it’s...it’s cute,” he says. “I don’t mind!” He thinks that’s cute? She decides to take it, and tries to shift the subject, to side-step Zuko turning into the awkward turtle-duck.

“What’s your favorite side dish? We’ve never gotten to eat such a nice meal together so close to each other!” In fact, the last time Katara was at a dinner with Zuko, it was a very formal affair, she was seated halfway down the table from him, between two lords and across from Aang, and it was a plated meal, with a different servant bringing her soup, her salad, her braised pork that was truthfully far too spicy, and she nearly cried when yet another servant brought her some pineapple-lime shaved ice to finish with.

“Hmm,” he murmurs, and his mouth bunches and pouts to one side, “This one.” He proffers long ribbons of carrot in sticky red sauce, sprinkled with sesame seeds. She slurps those off his chopsticks too.

“Ahh! So spicy! But good, really good!” She gulps some more plum wine, feeling warm all over. “Pick another you like.” She wants to know all his favorites tonight. Before dinner, he’d ditched his formal clothes, and has relaxed in a red silk shirt that leaves much of his chest open for her eyes to roam. Nice abs, she notes, for someone who claims to do paperwork all day long.

The wine is getting to her.

“Rina, don’t worry about us, please, head to bed. We’ll probably drink some more, talk, and definitely sleep in in the morning. Plenty of time for you and Lien to do dishes in the morning,” Zuko says to the maid, who is clearly yawning. She bows, murmurs a thank you, and heads off up the stairs. Katara loves how nice Zuko and Iroh are to their employees; the Earth King has several ministers who treat the servants like dirt. She’s brought it up to Kuei, but he only frowns and polishes his glasses.

“Alright! Now we can break out the good stuff!” Toph shouts, and punches the air. She is gone and back again in a flash.

“Good stuff? There’s so much good stuff here already!” Aang’s words come out a little soupy--he’s lost the soju drinking game. He takes a hearty spoonful of fruit tart. “This is so good, Zuko. I love fruit tarts!”

“I didn’t want to sailors to get ahold of this stuff; I confiscated it from one of my students. Ha!” Toph says, dropping back down on her cushion. She holds a long pipe in hand and pouch.

“So that’s why you were beating that poor guy up on the boat?” asks Sokka. Suki has migrated to mostly-in-Sokka’s-lap, but who is Katara to judge, because she is leaning full-body on Zuko--it’s certainly not the wine, she thinks, it’s the biceps for sure.

“Well, hell yeah, this stuff is wild!” crows Toph, dumping some clumps of dried green leaves on the table. She crumbles and stuffs, crumbles and stuff, and passes the pipe to Zuko. “Gimme a light, Master Sparky-pants? First puff is yours, host with the most!”

“What is it?” he asks, flicking two fingers and summoning a small flame. He lights the little leaves in the pipe bowl.

“Green dragon-weed!” Toph crows. “It’ll blow your mind!” Zuko tentatively puffs, coughs, and passes the pipe.

“That’s foul, Toph. Why?” Katara also passes, but Aang tries and Sokka tries, and Toph is clearly an expert, because she blows out perfect smoke rings.

Soon, they are a group of giggling kids again, lying on the floor, cackling at Sokka’s bad jokes as Suki regales stories of their stories, as she and Sokka work as prisoner escorts mostly these days. Aang and Toph keep passing that pipe back and forth, but Katara’s cup of plum wine never seems to empty, mostly because Zuko keeps giving her sips out of his--first a fiery ginger whiskey, next a herby, clear soju with lots of something citrusy squeezed in it, then a sweet melon liquor. He will nudge to offer, and every time, they make electric eye contact, and all the blood in her vein rushes down to the center of her hips.

“These are all really good,” she mumbles, feeling so relaxed and happy, warm against Zuko’s arm, full of food and drink, surrounded by friends.

“Good, I’m glad you’re having a good time,” he says lightly, nuzzling his nose to her ear.  More of that, please, she thinks, his breath hot on her cheek, and she steals a look at the others. Sokka and Suki are halfway out the door to their room, Toph is half-asleep, and Aang lays on the floor, blowing smoke into creatures for Momo to chase after, mostly out of sight.

She turns, and steels herself. “Can I...?”

His eyebrow knits. “Whatever you like?” What a good host.

She cranes her neck a little, and sneaks a peck on his lips, firm and spicy. There’s a little jolt, like electricity, and he presses back, firm, maybe even a little desperate. He shifts angles, captures her more surely. She melts a little, but pulls back. Toph and Aang are still sprawled on the floor, blissfully unaware.

“Aang, I am just beat, aren’t you? Toph? I think we should all drink a glass of water and go to bed,” she says gently.

“Huh? Mmm, yeah, I am pooped!” Aang slurs, and tries to get up, loses his balance, slips. “Monkeyfeathers!”

Toph snores on. Zuko, who still has his bearings, swiftly helps Aang to his feet, and scoops Toph up in a cradle hold. Katara settles the completely toasted Avatar into bed, takes off his shoes and shirt, and forces a glass of water in him. She leaves another on the table, but he’s asleep before she slides the door shut.

“She is out cold!” Zuko says, sliding the door shut. The house is quiet, so quiet that Katara can hear her heart racing. He pads back over. The tie of his shirt has come undone over the course of the evening, and she decides to take yet another chance. She closes the gap between them in the hall, pressing her hand to his chest and reaching up for another kiss.

It’s almost like he knows, and his hands tangle in her hair before their lips meet again. She clutches at the sides of his shirt, thrilled to touch and feel and smell him. One of his hands drops from her hair, and his thumb traces deliciously down her neck, to cup her waist and pull her closer. She sighs as she relaxes into the touch of his lips, the tip of his tongue pushing experimentally. He breaks for a moment.

“C’mon, let’s...get more comfortable,” he rasps, and pulls her down the hall, sliding open the red paper door at the end of the hall. He flicks his hand, lighting many lamps softly, and the room glows a rich red. He pulls her to the bed, and she flops down. The bed cradles her, and she suddenly loses all desire to move.

“I want you to know that I want this, but I’m so tired, Zuko. Rain check?” she murmurs.

“I understand. Can I...can I help you get ready for bed?” he asks, almost shy. Her heart skips. She cranes her neck up, and presses her lips to his heatedly.

“Sure.”

He slips off the bed and shucks his silk shirt to a stool. Next, the gold sash and black trousers. She chuckles lightly, because the style of underwear Fire Nation men wear is so weird-looking, so tight-fitting and trim, but his is black and she’s not surprised by that.

He kneels, and pushes up the skirts of her summer dress. It’s light blue silk with a white surcoat so gossamer it might be made of cobwebs, a gift from the Earth King for her last birthday, and in this heat, she’s glad it’s sleeveless. His hot hands press into her thighs, and he leans in, takes a breath, trails kisses down her inner thighs, over her knees.

He tenderly unwraps the ties from her slippers--they lace up her legs with ribbons--and presses a kiss on her calf. Fingers trail down the back of her calves, over her heels as he tugs the slippers off, stashing them on the floor.

Shoes off, he unties the waistband of the surcoat, lays it on the stool. He takes issue with the buttons on the side of the dress, but gets them undone, and he tugs it over her head until it floats back to join the surcoat. He flips her over, gripping her hips, and pulls the tie of the petticoat, tugs that down too. Hot kisses feather up her spine, and she can’t help but let a noise that is half moan, half sigh.

“Feels so good, Zuko, but I am so ready for some sleep,” she drawls, eyes drooping.

Gently, he presses a heated kiss to her neck, and wow, Katara didn’t know she could sparkle internally. His hands trail to her waist and back up.

“Can I offer you a place to rest here?” he asks, a joke in his voice.

“Seems like just the right place to be,” she yawns. He pulls back the sheets, cool and crisp, and she settles in. He snuggles close to her, and she drifts off, hoping that every reunion can be like this.

[justicewinged]

In the distance, the Grand City of Demacia looms. It’s bigger and brighter than all the stories say it is, with gleaming gargoyles of petricite lining the battlements and huge statues guarding its gate. Despite the hour is nigh on dusk, people still rush in and out of the city of lights and safe stones. The horse Quinn’s father had gifted her for the journey chomps at the bit between his teeth, oozing the green drool of springtime clover from his jowls. Behind her, the wooden crate holding a small, yet still powerful eagle jostles, and he peeps from within, whistling his worries and fears. At this point in his training, he still wears every provocation on his sleeve, and Quinn knows if she doesn't get into the city soon, the poor bird might hurt himself in his crate. The path leading up to the gate begins to make Quinn feel all the smaller. Valor can sense her doubt; he's screeching and fluttering around in his crate enough to strain the ropes holding down the wooden box, and the horse beneath her responds to the jostling by picking up his head to jig a couple of steps forward, but not fully charge careening towards the city. He is a good horse, Quinn's dad was sure of that, so perhaps should she need another war-trained horse meant for rough terrain like this stocky fellow, she could choose this level-headed gelding.

In through the doors of the city, everything grows louder and more active, with the paths of people hurried further by the darkening light across the sky. She slows her jigging horse to an easy amble, and maintains her skyward gaze. The white stone radiates pink sheen, the clock towers ring to announce the evening hour, but it feels suffocating and terrifyingly cramped despite the path that could hold at least sixteen mounted soldiers abreast. Pinpricks of stars and celestial bodies peek through translucent brushstrokes of clouds. The only thing here still freeing is the sky above her. Even Uwendale wasn't so blockaded.

Quinn dismounts off the main path, and loosens the saddle but not the strappings holding up her belongings, and addresses a soldier on duty.

"Good evening to you, sir," she begins, dipping down her chin out of respect. Her mother's teachings heavy on the mind, she makes a point of formalizing her tongue. "Might there be a place nearby to rest?” The soldier eyes her warily. " Are you a harlot, girl?" Quinn is taken aback by the question. "What?" His laugh barks out like a crow teasing a hound. "You simple, too? I'll have you know tis not accepted amongst men-at-arms to bed ladies like you."

"What!? I never --" Even more taken aback than before, she begins to put distance between herself and the man, one hand lowered close to Caleb's knife embedded in its leather sheath at her hip.

The soldier shakes his head, a slight glance of his eyes rolling through his brows. "If you never, then you obviously aren't from around here, are you?"

Quinn thinks it obvious. Her clothes are nothing like the high fashion adorning the people of the city, and in comparison look more akin to rags than even what this guard wore under his doublet. Her wool shirt has kept her warm thus far, with its cowled neck around her throat enough to hide her nose from the winds of springtime air, and her dark auburn hair (wine-dark, her mother had called it) is not tied in a bonnet but with a strand of twine.

"I've been on the road for three days, sir, I just need a place to sleep."

"A country lass if ever I've met one, then," he mutters in response. "Inn's down the road on the left. If I were you, girl, I wouldn't be so mindful of guard. People might think something of it."

Whether other people thought something of her or not, she definitely has words for this. She leads the horse down the road with a furrow in her brow.

"Are people in cities truly so elitist and rude?" she whispers to her equine companion, who, despite all beneficence, has no ability to understand her.

From a young age, her mother had taught her the importance of manners, especially for the nation's men- and women-at-arms. As such, the crass remarks of the guard on post strike her as odd. It was by no means necessary to treat her so, and yet he had.

Quinn pauses at the inn's front stoop, taking a moment to recollect her composure before entering. She'd not been in the city for long, but already she was exhausted, and the sight of the inn was a welcome one. The sign above the door reads "The Startled Hen," and features a chicken out of wood carving with paint, though it looks far more like a cock than a hen, beak parted and crest a-flayed. Warm firelight spills from the windows onto darkening streets, and already the inn's bar within is bustling with evening noise and activity. She leads her horse to the stable, and a hand makes motion to take over her horse.

"I need the crate, please," she requests, and the groom cast a look her way.

Was everything she did so obviously rural?

"What's in the crate, madame?" he asks casually, beginning to unstrap it. He releases it crooked, and the crate in turn releases a heated squawk.

"Please, let me," she insists, taking the obviously-rattled box of bird off his hand.

"What's in the crate?" he repeats, his expression less confused now and far more frightened. His eyes shine with fear, and she hesitates.

"An eagle," she says slowly, gripping the base of the crate. "An azurite."

The stable-hand blinks, jaw falling slightly slack. "Are you joking?"

She shakes her head.

"A real azurite?"

She nods.

"Are you mad? By the Light, they haven't been seen since the days of King Jarvan the second, and you caught one?"

"I didn't really catch one, I nursed it back to health and --"

"Hey Benoit! This girl caught herself an azurite!"

Quinn blushes, beginning to feel the starts of red-hot embarrassment throb through her chest and prickle at the back of her neck. By the light, she just wanted to get inside and check to see if her bird was alright.

"Prove it," snapped the other. "Those are just birds of myth, my pa used to say if you can't go out and see one, it idn't real."

"Can you?" asked the first.

"I mean --" Quinn steps back slightly, her fingers curling into the soft wood of the crate in a subconscious act of protection for her beloved companion.

"Can't even prove it," spat the second. "I wouldn't be surprised if it were a little frosty hawk in there."

"Making all that noise? Didn't you hear it?"

As the pair continued bickering, Quinn sets Valor's crate to the straw, then untacks her mount. They won't stop anytime soon, she thinks grimly. She had never been privileged enough for a groom as it was -- why would the lap of luxury start immediately upon entering the city? She rubs down the gelding's flanks and legs with her own handkerchief and brushes off each hoof with the palm of her hand, then leaves him in only his rope halter for the stable-hands -- as incompetent as they seem -- to blanket and water.

It occurs to her as she steps from the barn with Valor's crate cocked on her hip that she might be wise to lie about Valor, at least until she acquires a position in the army. People would know of her then. With her pack over one shoulder, she slips into the inn and rest the crate on a bar stool.

"One room, please, just one bed. I just need it for a couple of days, till I can get on my feet."

The innkeeper looks her up and down. "Ten gold a night."

Quinn produces her coin purse and counts out ten gold pieces, which she rests on the counter eagerly.

Much slower than her, the innkeep counts them himself, and pockets them, then produces a key. "In the back on the left. It's room number fifteen."

She slips from the busy bar to the quiet back of the inn, where her room is. Upon unlocking, the door swings open with a squeal on its hinges, revealing a dingy room far drabber than many of the homes she'd visited in Uwendale. There is but a bed, a dusty rug, wood floors, and a dresser against one side. Moonlight pours in through a singular window, and the sole fancy feature of the room is a gas lamp on the bedside table with a container of safety matches beside it. Even her parents, having sold horses to the military for years, could never seem to round up the money for a Piltovan gas lamp or the gas to power it. The room itself is slightly cold, but the quilt on the bed seems heavy enough, and her cloak strung over her shoulders still warms her.

“Alright, Val, you gotta be quiet.”

Quinn unlatches the door to the crate, swings open the door, and gently tugs the bird from his comfortable perch within. As soon as he's free, he spreads his wings to their full span, rouses his feathers, and blinks sleepily at his handler, almost a silent thanks to her freeing him. She allows him to sit upon her lap as she picks at his feathers, just to make sure none had been broken, and examined the pads of his feet, to ensure he hadn't cut himself or rubbed himself raw on the trip there. Overall, he seems in fine health, his vibrant blue plumage glossy in the low light of the room, and his eyes still shining with an eagerness unparalleled by any animal she'd laid eyes on. The soft blue and orange down of his belly seemed to have a couple of new pinfeathers coming in to replace his downy baby feathers. Truly, he is maturing into something like an adolescent, past the stage of ungainly wings and pillowy pinions.

She lets him go as soon as she finishes with him, but quickly calls him back to her glove with a chunk of meat from her blood bag. He gulps down a mouse and some raw rabbit left over from the day before that had just began to ferment in the bag, and sips rivulets of water from Quinn's canteen into her open palm. She could have gone to the bar to get a glass for herself, rather than drinking from her hands, but she would have rather stayed in the silence.

On the morrow, she thinks, she will ride to the castle, and ask the king to make her a scout, but she knows it won't be so simple. She will carry Valor the whole way as she rides astride the Selby-branded mount, and stop outside the doors. He will listen. It's hard not to, with the symbol of your nation perched on the speaker's fist.

A brief smile crosses her face.

Quinn washes up her face with her dripping hands, dresses down to her undershirt and trousers, and slips under the quilt. Tomorrow will be a busy day.

[weightloss18-blog1]

Perfect Fat Burning Dinner -- Even If You Can't Cook!!

New Post has been published on https://designweightloss.com/perfect-fat-burning-dinner-even-if-you-cant-cook/

Perfect Fat Burning Dinner -- Even If You Can't Cook!!

Hey everybody! Hannibal Bray, Perfect Day Lifestyle and I'm gonna take just a couple of minutes to show you a super easy way to prepare a healthy dinner for one even if you have zero cooking skills okay? But first things first let me give a little shout out here to – what's up Atticus? Atticus is gonna play the part of my cameraman today he's gonna help me out here aren't you okay and I also gotta give props to Babette, Babette's gonna play the part of the cat just kind of doing her thing, so first things first it's all about the prep it helps if you do some prep ahead of time I'm gonna do a video this weekend probably Saturday and Sunday I'll do a couple of videos as I'm doing my prep for the week and I'll just show you guys exactly how I do this how I get all my salads ready how you can actually do a lot of the cooking ahead of time so if you've got a busy lifestyle like most of us do it's still real easy so let's um let's go over here do fridge so in the fridge here's what I'm gonna get I've done my prep already so I've got my uh my salad basically just some leftovers from last night I got my Bubbies sauerkraut which is awesome and that one's almost empty so I'm gonna get may get a second one here we're gonna finish that off and then I'll bring this out just you can see this is my my recipe for the salad dressing and then while we're in here eggs so these are hard-boiled eggs because tomorrow morning I gotta get up really early I don't have time to cook before I hit the road so I'm just gonna grab two eggs hit the road and go and what what's this what what I don't think I don't think this is on the Perfect Day Lifestyle is this is this Atticus is this yours is this yours? okay all right so not everybody here at the Bray household is on the Perfect Day Lifestyle and that's okay so I'm gonna hand this off to Atticus here he's gonna do a little bit of filming for me all right you got that buddy all right so what do we gotta do sauerkraut so sauerkraut is awesome and if something about fermented food I never knew this I mean you can make your own fermented foods sauerkraut's like the easiest one like readily available to get you can get this at the grocery store and I really prefer this this Bubbies brand because there's no vinegar or anything in there you don't have to cook this to do anything to prepare it except just spoon it out of the jar right and you're supposed to like leave it in the juice you can drain some of the juice out of there as you start to work your way through the bottle but I've kind of measured out before I try and do a full cup size serving because I'm

you don't have to do that if you're already pretty fit yeah you don't have much weight to lose you don't have to do that but I'm in still in like maximum weight loss mode where I'm trying to drop another 10-15 pounds and so I'm maximizing these fermented foods, if when I fill this little thing up here I know it's about a cup about one cup of sauerkraut so that's all set ready to go and the other thing I'll show you is this is so I've already got my lunch all set ready to go for tomorrow too so I've got this ready I got this handy dandy little neoprene deal and I've got these little guys right here I've got a bunch of these so I can fill them up with sauerkraut so I've got ready to go and we already see the salad I'm going to show you what we do with that all right so sauerkraut's all done take a peek there zoom in yeah sweet treats out of the way if you if you want to try out this recipe I mean it couldn't be simpler for salad dressing yeah we have to go to salad dressing recipes around here this is one and I have another video here you can see kind of how you put it all together and the other one is even simpler it's just lemon lemon juice I take half a lemon take a little little squeezer and I usually put this little thing like this lemon juice and then olive oil give that a little stir that's uh that's my wife's favorite so we do that we mix it up kind of 50/50 with this so we got our sauerkraut ready to go this is how how I pack my salads screw-top I don't have to worry about this making a mess got my little salad dressing here this is rubbermaid you can get these on Amazon but it holds like 2 tablespoons of a salad dressing which is perfect I got my protein here so this is typically gonna be I know this this may not look like much but when you're eating everything else here on this your perfectly balanced meal plan this is plenty this is really plenty of protein about the size of your fist and this is probably a little bit a little bit smaller but I'm taking like a protein shake in the afternoon so I'm trust me I'm getting plenty of protein this is just chicken thighs and you can bake like a whole tray of these in the oven on the weekend and that's what we do is this is actually half of one chicken thigh season just with salt and pepper no olive oil none of that I just put it on the on the on the tray with some parchment paper or some aluminum foil and you're good to go little paper towel in there just to kind of keep you know stuff from getting all mixed together so all I do in my salad again I'll show you this this weekend but I've got some greens you can buy some some pre-sorted fresh greens I usually throw in some some red cabbage just because I like the antioxidants and cabbage is really good for helping you to get into ketosis and this isn't a keto diet per se but there's some elements of a ketogenic diet that are certainly in here carrots I go easy on carrots because there's a lot of sugar in carrots but carrots are fine in salads I won't run them through my juicer though because it just turns them in a straight sugar we got some green pepper got some green onion I got walnuts I've got pumpkin seeds and that's about it so what do i what I like to do is I take the salad dressing give a little shake and I can do this anywhere I can do this if I'm at, you know working at a hospital cafeteria I can do this in my car you know if I get stuck somewhere or whatever and I usually screw this back on you know shake oh so this I don't even know Atticus is asking me what size are the the containers I don't know I got these away it spilling oh, is it spilling? no biggie dump it in there get all the good stuff in there take my little fork make sure we're all set and if you want you can heat up the protein whether it's you know chicken or chicken or steak or fish but I can just have cold usually totally fine if you want to heat it up you sure can and you can have this on the side I usually just dump it right in the first couple times ended I thought it was kind of weird to add the sauerkraut into the salad but now I've really developed a taste for it and it is all good just boom there's my dinner and I promise you I will not be hungry this will fill me up um if I do find myself hungry I've got some broccoli from last night I'll pull that out and I'll throw that in the microwave well that's it guys healthy dinner for one because oh you don't thing I wanted to address healthy dinner for one I mean when if you if you're trying to adopt a more healthy lifestyle right whether it's exercise nutrition it can be and I was kind of joking about it at the beginning you know my wife's got you know the sweet treats here the first two or three weeks this would have been a real problem if this was in the fridge okay I would have gobbled this right up and like like nobody's business um cuz I have yeah cuz she always has leftovers and that was that was part of the dilemma for the last two years um my wife went back to school for a second career long hours out the door early home after like 8:30 9:00 o'clock at night so I'm kind of left to my own devices and I was traveling a lot to work making really bad food choices and then we got pregnant with this one and so for two years you know I had excuses for you know why I was eating like crap so I had habits that I had to overcome you know I had you know I know you know I had I'd uh I'd detox you know I had to go through the the carb withdrawal and all that and it only took about ten days to really detox off all the hey buddy only took about ten days to detox off all the carbs but I'll say it probably took a full six weeks if not closer to eight weeks to establish the new habit to the point where this is ingrained in me and I'm like fine like in social situations other people are eating crap or if I can smell you know fresh bread or you know if somebody else is drinking like you know I will I will drink alcohol again but right now alcohol is not it doesn't contribute to weight loss and you know I believe in moderation if you're trying to maintain but I'm not in maintenance phase yeah I'm still trying to lose weight so I just made a decision that if it doesn't contribute and help the weight loss it's not on my diet for me okay once you get down to your target way you can reintroduce things you can reintroduce some of those fruits you can reintroduce some of those carbs particularly particularly you know you're gonna be more active so it's not just one diet it's not just a one specific meal plan that works and everybody's a little bit different but what I found to work is you know these perfectly balanced meals where I have my eggs and my green juice in the morning I have a lunch that looks almost exactly like this a dinner that looks almost exactly like this and I supplement in the afternoon with a protein shake and I take some vitamins and stuff that I'll talk a little bit about later in a future video but hopefully this helps and if you know if you can get the whole family on board that's great but even if you can't you just have to carve out you know carve out some shelf space in the fridge you know carve out some cupboards and and that's what we did before we started this we came back from Thanksgiving and I'm like all right hun, this little cupboard here is mine this little spot here is mine you can keep all your you know your goody stuff because you know you can't inflict this on somebody else if they're not ready to make a healthy change that's um that's you know that's cool you just have to you have to do you know you have to do what's what's best for you what's what's going on? Nicole:I said "plus, I'm breastfeeding" Oh, I guess I didn't really take the hint Plus, my wife's breastfeeding so she's yeah she's definitely got to to supplement and eat a little bit more but I can't see the comments if you have questions shoutouts go ahead and drop him in here if there's certain things that you'd like us to cover in in future videos let me know give me some ideas or anything you're seeing popping up oh yeah Nick just said next thing you know you'll be on the food TV on food TV I don't buddy I don't think there's any any danger of that, Gordon Ramsay or Martha Stewart I am NOT but I'm all about keeping this real if I can do this Rachael Ray keeps it real, Rachael Ray yeah next it can be then mister Rachael Ray, Rachael Bray or yeah alright appreciate you guys I want to encourage you if you have not here let me flip this around boom if you have not um downloaded yet I've got this uh show you this here I've got this free report here okay it's called Perfect Day Lifestyle it's just a one pager here this is exact this is all the elements of the program this is exactly what I did to lose 52 pounds in ten weeks and you may not have that much to lose you may have more than that to lose but download this totally for free go to perfect day lifestyle dot com, check it out and if you have friends who want to check this out to invite them to join the Facebook group here, we'll talk to you soon, take care!

[katiezstorey93]

This Cruise Ship Brewmaster Makes Beer Using Seawater

The Red Frog Pub & Brewery, aboard the Carnival Vista, is one of the first breweries in the world to operate on a cruise boat. The guy in control of the surgery is while he had been in school a Pennsylvania native who started home brewing, Colin Presby. Presby abandoned living to reside Carnival cruises permanently, after pursuing a career at the industry. He’s currently one of the many 1,400 workers who maintain the Carnival Vista working smoothly.

Since the Red Dice started filling up with guests one day, I sat down with Presby to talk about how to create beer on a moving vessel that was gigantic.

Extra Crispy: Just how did you learn about the Carnival brewmaster position? Colin Presby: I saw this job advertised on ProBrewer.com, and that’s where brewers start looking for work. It is a technical enough field where we are not looking at regular or Monster occupation websites. I sent a resume and cover letter. Basically it was trying to find a brewmaster at sea. I had been hired early in the flow of things. The brewery space was designed, we had branding and beer names, and descriptions, but not the liquid.  

I came on in late and instantly flew to the shipyard in Monfalcone and worked for a busy month at the shipyard and prepared, obtaining the brews in the tank. Technically we were an Italian brewery briefly before the boat set sail it had been shrouded in Italy and because it was not a boat that is commissioned.

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What were the challenges of establishing a brewery and creating beer on a ship? After we got things up and running, the main challenges were still logistical. It is an issue of getting things. As a brewer that is stateside, I am sort of spoiled by overnighting anything. You can order whatever you receive and want it there the following day, whether it is a live yeast culture or even a replacement component. There has been some adjustment for it.

This was a really different experience on many levels. First of all, it is the brewery I have worked in but it is also the most significant business I worked for by far. As the cruise line in the world, it is tough to compare to that. It’s the smallest and also the biggest and it is also in terms of where the beer is sold by us, and also we found it, it is sort of an interesting combination of a manufacturing brewery and a brew pub. It is like a brew bar in there’s that gratification and that I see people drinking the beer, and that I will chat about the beer with them and receive feedback. It is very personal and hands on and direct with the guests. Nevertheless, it’s also like a manufacturing brewery because we focus on our flagships with some seaonals because every eight or six times, it is 4,000 new visitors, so it is a completely new crowd every week. It will become a bit tricky.

In a straight home, I’d devote a great deal of time speaking about the beers that are currently coming. Because people are here for their eight times, I can’t really talk about this much shipboard. We do have a great deal of repeat visitors, but that’s months later on. It is not like, next week, come back and then try this.

Photo by natalie B. Compton

Where do you get the water from? In designing Vista, they left lots of good, forward steps with lots of our engineering. We’ve got a bunch of redundancy including electricity, in lots of our programs, propulsion, and lots of the systems, including our water manufacturing system. We’ve got a desalination and reverse osmosis plant complexes at which seawater is taken by us and produce the drinking water. We’ve got sufficient capacity in it to make our drinking water all. All of our water is created here on board. That gives a stable compound profile for my water to me. Some additional nutrient alterations can be made by me for the beers that helps, and that I want to brew but in general I’ve a starting point that is constant.

A lot of ships fill up and will go through a procedure where essentially they hook a hose up to the local water source at whatever port they’re at, called bunkering. This becomes their drinking water. That could be quite tough for me to deal with because it could be a different water every time. Now, I’ve a fairly consistent basis and that I will start there and brew.  

Can the motion of the boat matter when you’re brewing? If we have a circumstance where we have heavy sea warnings, and the captain comes on and makes the announcement, and I am scheduled to take up a batch, then I’ll reschedule and push it back a day.  

In the fermentation process, it will not affect things too much. My settling time slows a tiny bit as the yeast becomes roused back up. I just have to be cautious about purging the yeast in the floor. And then in my tanks that are working, because I do not filter, there will be some settling still from the serving tank. For the most part it’s a nonissue. But when the serving tank is low and we have heavy seas–it has gotta be both states–then we get a bit more cloudiness and a foamier pours. It happened twice that I have had to take something.  

So can you live on the ship? I dwell on deck zero in a tiny cottage. I have my own cottage, which is a great perk. It is little but it’s my own. No Woman, that is fine.  

How does your program work? Do you have off? I am a shipboard worker, which signifies a workweek. In fourteen days I’m working. 1 way is that if you’ve got your vacation, it will be six weeks to three months dwelling. You can sort of think of that as all of your weekends. I receive all of my weekends at once.

The forfeit is that I work through continuously. I am able to some degree control my hours I can get out to time and see some places that are really cool. I have had some chances, especially during our European season, see things and to find outside some time that I never would have had the chance to see differently. But I am also at the mercy of this brew cycle.  

How do you balance your personal life and this particular job? It is tough. It’s. I purchase the societal networking website bundle every day. Facebook Messenger, WhatsApp–it is tough, although they’re crucial to staying connected with people back home. I miss things. I miss people. I miss events in individuals’ lives. That part of it–boat life. It is a whole lot of fun. I meet folks. My crew members are excellent. We have got this always group of people. So it is not the very same folks, but new people movement in and fit in and it is this environment on board.  

PHOTO BY NATALIE B. COMPTON

Do you really feel as though time passes by very quickly and blurry in this eternal summer of boat life? Yeah. I can’t tell you exactly what day of the week it’s. It is home port, sea afternoon daytime. That’s it. It is some combination of those, which means you lose track of the times of this week. Time moves really quickly. It does. Months disappear. Lots of times you believe in terms of Oh, it’s two aisles from now and then the cruise is gone. It’s 1 cruise from now.  

Can you wind up saving more money because you are living on a boat? Oh yeah. For sure. Not discussing items in detail salary-wise, but the identical salary on boat ends up more savings because I am not paying for rent, I am not paying gas for my vehicle. In Pennsylvania we have to drive. I am not paying for food. It is a box of granola bars from Target every week if food is got by me. It is not a complete cart of groceries. So I am saving plenty of money that way. You are able to bank a great deal. This works out well financially. There are sacrifices, obviously. It is a lifestyle I would not have always seen myself doing before but there are many aspects of it that are just wonderfully rewarding and fulfilling.  

Just how long can you see yourself operating in the railroad world? Some time. As soon as I started, I did not understand. I didn’t have a great idea yet. To be fair I took the work and believed,  I’ll go see. Because I am craft beer, and a craft beer guy is a really inward focused area. In the craft beer universe people do not do outreach out there. We do more reaching across. We search for people who already drink craft beer at this time and rather than reaching out I am going to do something cool to entice them.

When I started because I did not understand what Carnival desired it was interesting. I didn’t understand what guests desired, or how this would relate to me personally. It was that my boss, from the start, our VP of beverages, and everybody on the Carnival team has been very supportive of moving in a beer management. Whether that has thoughts about food and beer pairing, or brew some seasonals. From the very beginning my boss said, “Hey, even if you wish to boil seasonal, experimental beers, then test batches, then go ahead. We want it for a brewpub.” Pretty early on I had been reassured with that. It has been both personally and career-wise very satisfying.  

You say you’re employing another worker soon. Are you looking for? We are looking for someone. But someone who is able to come do this, because not everybody is. You’ve got to be able to leave house for six months at one time, regardless of entanglements you’ve got, whatever that involves. In addition, you need to be able to work a shipboard environment, in this environment. In addition, we conduct drug tests, that may weed out some brewers. Brewers might not be got by us from Colorado, I guess.

This interview was edited and condensed for clarity.

Source

http://extracrispy.com/drinks/4421/this-cruise-ship-brewmaster-makes-beer-with-seawater

from network 8 http://www.cheap-discount-mexico-cruises.com/this-cruise-ship-brewmaster-makes-beer-using-seawater/