#like to get the tough stringy bits off

[petermorwood]

Is "Uh, nope" a frequent US response to lamb?

Or is US lamb somehow different?

This is just a vaguely mystified response to some comments here.

I'm guessing the "G-word" is gamey. I've smelt gamey meat, I don't like it, and Irish lamb definitely isn't that. Also, most people I know don't need to screw up their courage before cooking or eating it.

Mutton, mature sheep-meat, has - or so I've been told, because I've never found it in any local butcher - a much fuller flavour, still not gamey, but more ... robust, pronounced, emphatic, choose your descriptor. It is, after all, a more mature meat.

For terminology reference (though this may not be current any more), "lamb" is up to one year old, "hogget" - remember the farmer's name in "Babe"? - is up to two years old, and "mutton" is over two years.

*****

As I said, I haven't seen mutton anywhere, and haven't HEARD of hogget.

This might be, as I hinted, because terminology has been simplified and all meat from sheep is now "lamb" - and that may answer my own question. Sometimes US lamb has a fuller flavour than, say, Wicklow lamb in Ireland, because sometimes US lamb is hogget or mutton instead.

If so, it restores a possible original meaning to "mutton dressed as lamb". That's now best known as "an older woman dressed inappropriately young", and though the meaning has been around for a long time (this Rowlandson print is dated 1810)...

..."dressing" is also the term for preparing meat for sale.

And THAT makes me wonder if the critical phrase goes beyond fashion into the fine old tradition of adulterating food, and wily butchers transforming elderly sheep into the semblance of younger lamb then charging undiscerning customers accordingly.

I don't know how they might have done it, but if they could then they would. The ways in which 18th-19th century foods were fiddled with is amazing, and more than a bit Yuck.

Or in this case, Ew.

Comments, corrections, criticisms and all the rest are cordially invited.

:->

*****

Side-note; in keeping with the way nicknames get attached to surnames - "Chalky" White, "Dusty" Miller etc. - anyone called Curry usually ended up as "Mutton".

Two brothers at my school had this happen; Tom Curry, the older one, had been "Mutton" for a couple of years, and when his kid brother Will started school he became, of course, "Lamb".

Oh, how we laffed...

*****

ETA: @bellyoftheblast just messaged me this:

It turns out, and I only learned this very recently (I think it's in Hannah Glasse) that "dressed" used to mean "cooked" rather than "prepared for sale". Which would mean "mutton dressed as lamb" would be fast-cooked and thus greasy, unpleasantly tough and decidedly stringy. (Meanwhile I'll never waste good lamb on stew again now that I have a source for mutton -- MUCH better flavour for slow cooking).

Thanks for this snippet! We've got the Prospect Books facsimile of Hannah Glasse 1st ed, so I pulled it down, blew off the dust - it's been a while - and yes indeed, I found the following recipes in just four successive pages:

"To dreſs a Leg of Mutton à la Royale",

"To dreſs a Leg of Mutton to eat like Veniſon",

"To dreſs Mutton the Turkiſh Way"

"To dreſs Veal à la Bourgoiſe"

Mutton dressed (or dreſsed) as Lamb doesn't get mentioned, probably because Mistress Glasse knew better, though that business of Mutton to eat (taste) like Venison is interesting.

It involves cutting the leg of mutton "in the shape of a Haunch of Veniſon" then steeping it in the sheep's blood "for five or six Hours" before wrapping it in layers of buttered paper and roasting it, basted frequently with butter or beef dripping.

Not quite mutton as lamb, but still mutton disguised as something more expensive...

[hooter-n-company]

Out of the bounty bros which one out of the group is Bulzars favorite to eat flavor wise

Definitely Balroc, since he’s the biggest and “meatiest” human of the bunch who also has the most skin showing (more natural flavor, am I right?) It helps that he and Bulzar bicker a lot, so it’s extra satisfying when the Giant puts him in his place.

Owin is a bit too skinny for Bulzar’s liking, although if his stomach is bothering him, he might gulp the poor lad down like a pill to get some of that trusty healing magic. Owin’s not TOO happy about it, but he’ll suck it up to help a friend in need.

Grimaldus is completely off the table. Bulzar claims the ol’ coot is too tough and stringy for him to bother, but even he’s smart enough to know not to push his luck with the elder mage. The likelihood of being turned inside out is much too great. XD

[askmadcomcrew]

What're everyone's general thoughts on bandits?

Hank: Hardly worth killing. Boring. Unprotected and unskilled. Can sometimes be annoying on long outings in Somewhere, they like to nick your stuff when you're sleeping.

Sanford: I trust a bandit as far as I can throw 'em. If you ask me? No mercy for any bandits, even if they offer ya safe passage in exchange for food or money. They're all cannibals and they're just waiting for the chance to catch you off guard so they can swarm you and then make dinner out of you.

Deimos: Annoying little twerps, mostly. Honestly not sure how they even survive, eating literal garbage all the time. Nothin' grows out in the Outskirts, so they're living off zeds mostly, I guess. I also know they eat other people, and that's enough for me to not feel bad about shootin' 'em.

Doc: Roaming bandit tribes, as well as the more settled ones, are primarily formed by former residents of Nexus City. The ones who survived the fall, after deciding that killing each other wasn't worth the hassle, decided to form their own communities in the ruins of the city, where they were allowed to exist without being killed by what remained of the Core or MERC. Most have taken to cannibalism to suit their food needs, as food is scarce in the Outskirts, and most of what was edible was given to their MAG Bandit. For some reason they became obsessed with having the MAG Bandit grow larger and larger through excess food, even if it meant starving themselves. A strange, but interesting lot.

Dr. Christoff: Bandits are little more than ruffians and scoundrels, always looking for their next meal, or whatever's in your pockets. Some of them act nice, if they don't already know you, and will attempt to barter. I've met the handful of reputable bandits, ones who will do honest trade for supplies. I've also met plenty who would rather kill and steal from you, as well as feast on your corpse. I've personally watched a pack of Bandits descend on a would-be traveler, killing them quickly with sharpened scrap metal, and then using those same tools to gut, skin, and de-bone them for easier consumption.

Tricky: THEY TASTE AWFUL!! HARDLY ANY MEAT!!! ALL SKIN N' BONES!!! WHAT MEAT THEY GOT IS ALL STRINGY AND TOUGH 'CUZ MOST OF 'EM ARE EMACIATED!!! THEY SPEND TOO MUCH TIME GIVING ALL THEIR FOOD TO THAT STUPID MAG!!! BUNCHA IDIOTS IF YOU ASK ME!!!

Sheriff: Bandits're 'n odd sort, no one tribe of 'em operates the same as the others. The ones in the city don't bother us none, most 'a the time anyway. Had a few of their ranks join ours from time t' time. We don't discriminate here at MERC, we don't care where ya came from or who y' used to be. If yer willin' to chip in, and do honest work fer honest pay, we'll have ya. Most of 'em keep their distance tho, they know the more rowdy they get, the more likely they are fer one of our snipers t' put 'em down.

Crackpot: Oh, them? A lot of bandits are who ended up joining my religious sect after the fall of the city, some of them come down to the sewers and stumble upon our humble home down here. Some of them attack, thinking my men are easy prey, and are quickly sacrificed to the buoyant ones. Some have a little more sense and reason, and with a bit of coercion, have joined our ranks. But typically they just end up getting picked off by the zeds we have guarding our establishments. A sort of self solving problem, if you would.

Phobos: Bandits? Is that what became of the people of my glorious city? After that damned Christoff condemned it to ruination? No matter, the civilians of Nexus City were little more than a nicety. I could care less what they've evolved or devolved into.

Auditor: Bandits are a routine source of trouble for Agency outposts around Nexus City. They commonly launch raids on our bases, or attack Agency caravans with the intent of stealing and eating whatever or whomever they can. Most of the time routine patrols and guards can take care of them, but occasionally they are successful in their pursuits. They are little more than a nuisance, but one to remain vigilant for all the same.

[mechanicalriddle]

the moment weve all been waiting for EXALTED SECRET 2023 BIOS YAAAAAY

Heres my bios for the secret santa ! this years theme is Girls Who Rot, Have Rotted Previously, or Are Rotting Right Now

I like to provide some little details, tidbits, tone and setting ideas in my bios in case you want to draw them in like a little scene; don't feel obligated to get that fancy, though!

without further ado.

Pleione (Plin for short, she/they, roughly equivalent to early 20s) is a Marrow Aspect forged from the remnants of a young royal from a long-forgotten kingdom, resuscitated from the depths of the mausoleum in which her body was interred by (accidental) necromantic means. She's spent the past two decades quietly living on her Anchor's manse-estate, indulging in her passions for art and botany.

Plin is a big chicken who is deathly terrified of conflict and does a lot of screaming and cowering when things come to blows for someone who

Her personality is particular, peculiar, and holier-than-thou. She's got dynastic sensibilities, snobbish and disinclined to associate with 'the proles'. Get her on the subject of one of her special interests, though, and you might find each other fast friends.

Motifs- Plin has an orchid motif on account of the fact that she needs a dose of a special tea made from a (formerly) extinct orchid several times a day in order to NOT DIE. She hasn't died yet. She doesnt know she can come back give her a break. Some other motifs include glass, terrariums, spiders & fireflies; marble & porcelain, old-timey anatomical drawings, delicate floral and baroque patterns; antique-white, minty green, deep purple, and black.

Ideas- If you want to draw her doing something she is equally likely to be found reclining on a huge pile of pillows with a book or with her knees planted in the dirt rooting around in a thorny shrub. She loves to dissect and draw plants and is liable to be found at a desk or behind an easel doing one of those activities

Anima- Currently I am thinking... a grove filled with ghostly-white plants twining over enormous bones (hopefully of the animal variety, but hard to say, really) and probably features giant flowering orchids that are shaped suspiciously like skulls... Also its hard to say but the ground does look an awful lot like meat, and those stringy bits look an awful lot like connective tissue... hmm

---

Desert Fang Grim Devil Lioness (Grim for short, she/her, 36 yrs old) is a renegade Midnight caste former-warlord-turned-backwoods vampire-MILF. upgrades!

Grim was fazed a lot as a child (being pawned off by your family as a slave will do that to you) and vowed to grow up into a woman who Wouldn't Be Fazed By Anything. Having achieved this (with a few notable exceptions), she mostly gets her way by via being larger, stronger, and scarier than as many of her problems as possible. Sometimes problems don't and can't have physical largeness, though, which is annoying.

One of these problems included being counter-merc'd by one of her targets and dying of exposure under the desert sun. She didn't... quite... let this stop her, though. There are people in need of her skillsets, and dying isn't really a disqualifier for their service. She was raised as a deathknight and for several years served as one of the First and Forsaken Lion's most fearsome officers.

Another problem is... More recent. Having run off with her lunar mate and tried to start a family far, far from FAFL's stomping grounds, it turns out toughing it out in the wilds of the North can kind of suck.

Motifs- Pretty normal deathknight stuff. Black iron of the wrought variety, and soulsteel; tattered and blood-drenched fabric, rough-hewn basalt and dark masonry. Honestly got stronger canid than felid vibes, to spite the name. Black-and-red is an obvious throughline but grimy grays and natural tones complete her overall color scheme. Things that are totally inert and lifeless, and will always remain as such.

Ideas- Riding her terrifying steed (basically just a half rotting perma-permafrosted elk corpse with a broken antler), slicing something in half with her awesome reaver daiklaive, hovering over a pot of survival-stew boiling over a crude hearth, walking thru the woods in the dark covered in blood. Or maybe hanging out with her awesome baby (pictured) if youre inclined to draw something... Nicer :)

Anima- A bit stereotypical, I think like. a blasted land with bloodsoaked earth so barren and expansive that it blends with the crimson sky, as well as off in the distance banners that tower like skyscrapers which only flutter by virtue of their enormity. Not even Mela's breath will touch this forsaken place.

Grim is the current wielder of Gorgon.

---

(WHOOPS forgot the tattoos in the second thing but like hell im fixing that at this point)

Last but not least, the Gunstar Autochthonia Girl Hirudana Siithavari (Siithi for short, she/her, 32 y.o.) a No Moon ostensibly still answering to the Deliberative; at heart, a roustabout and a scallywag. She crawled deep into Authochthon's world-body on a suicide mission and then beat all odds by sheer cockroach-style stubbornness, earning her Luna's favor. Also, terrible death-sorcery (necromancy is sort of an unknown factor in our rendition of the Gunstar shard but she somehow managed to make contact with the neverborn and stumble into its practice)

she likes drinking, and gambling, and yelling, and generally being a nuisance. Sometimes a little bit of heart-of-gold shines through, and quite frankly everyone is probably better off with the secrets of necromancy in her hands rather than someone slightly less grounded in reality.

theres more pics of her in her tag if you want to poke around.

Motifs- Bronze, brass, grimy earth tones mixed with bright accent colors. Black leather, studs, needles, teeth. Tubes, pipes, gears, grates and various industrial junk. Worms, bugs, and other vermin. Dankness, darkness, the sickly shadows of Black Non. Smoke-haze and drug paraphernalia.

Ideas- Generally she spends most of her time at the bar, the gym, in her lab, or asleep. you could draw her pumping iron, or taking a toke on a decrepit sofa in her dingy weed-cave (not a literal cave though that would be kind of fun), or sitting at an industrial workbench pouring over a half-disassembled chainsaw. or corpse. or both at the same time.

Anima- Her lower-level anima is kind of gloopy like a lava lamp. Iconic is a swamp with oil for water, populated by mangroves assembled from pipes and black plastic tube-vines, with the moon reflecting brightly on its surface. Her spirit shape is a Buffalo Leech, one of the largest species of leeches (on earth at least). i'll attach a pic of her hybrid form if you wanna draw that instead!

(necessary disclaimer for these sorts of things) youre welcome to take this as an opportunity to do some experimenting but if you don't think you can passably represent a certain characters body shape i would recommend picking one of the other options. thank you!

[auntiepasto]

It’s Winter Squash Time!

Now is a great time of year to stock up on pumpkins and winter squash. They’re everywhere, they’re inexpensive, and did I mention that they’re absolutely beautiful? Who could ask for more?

There’s more!

Winter squash — Cinderella and pie pumpkins, kuri, delicata, butternut, buttercup, acorn, kabocha, turban — are all edible, and excellent keepers. You can store them at room temperature, and use them for pretty decorations all through the fall and winter season, choosing one or two to eat as the mood strikes.

This bounty of squash should carry myself and my husband through most of fall and winter, even eating it weekly.

Be absolutely thorough about checking your squash before you buy it for any bumps, bruises, scratches, nicks, or dings. Dirt is fine, it washes off, and sealed scratches are okay. Fresh scratches may or may not heal up and your squash may rot. If you're planning to cook it within a week, a scratch or two is probably okay, but not if you're planning to use them over the course of several months.

The easiest way to prep most winter squash (excepting the gigantic pumpkins) is to cut off the stem and the base if necessary so that the squash will sit flat, then split it in half from top to bottom. Scrape out the seeds with a large metal spoon or ice-cream scoop, and scrape out as much of the stringy goop as you can manage. Typically, at this point, I will oil the squash’s interior with olive oil (use whatever oil you like, roasted walnut or pecan oil is terrific) and sprinkle with seasonings (pie spices are great, but chipotle can be fun, as can sage or poultry seasonings), and roast at 350°F / 175°C until a paring knife will penetrate the skin and flesh easily. That’ll take about 45 minutes for most squashes.

You can roast the seeds of any winter squash as an additional snack, once you clean them up. More about that in another post.

Some notes:

Delicata: Capsule-shaped, yellow striped with green, sometimes blushed orange. It has a unique and delightful squash-sweet corn flavor. The skin is thin and can be left on. In my experience, delicata is the shortest-lasting of the bunch. Eat them first.

Kuri: Top-shaped and a gorgeous burnt-orange color. Kuri squash has a sweet, rich flavor. Again, one of the squashes that has good skin for eating.

Butternut: Columnar neck, with a bulb on the bottom, tan skin with orange flesh. One of the most accessible squashes — widely available and inexpensive, as well as delicious. Many of the so-called “pumpkin pie” canned fillings are actually made of butternut squash. It keeps very well and for a long time — four to five months — as long as you’re meticulous about choosing squash with undamaged skin. It’s also one of the easiest to peel. For dishes where you want peeled squash, choose butternut and use only the neck, and cook the bulb another time. Butternut skin tends to be tough, so you'll probably want to avoid eating it.

Buttercup: Deep green with a small, light green "cup" on the bottom. Delicious. Doesn't seem to hold as well as some of the others -- use it sooner rather than later. The skin on these is soft and fine for eating.

Acorn: Acorn-shaped, heavily ridged. Colors can range from green to orange. They do come in white, but white squash are usually pretty bland. Thin-skinned, so you can eat the whole thing comfortably. Great for soups and stews -- just clean it out and chop it into bits to throw into your soup. More of a savory squash than a sweet one. Conventional wisdom is that they're shorter keepers, but I've found that they keep very well for me, and have held them successfully for up to four months.

Kabocha: A deep-green flattened sphere. Sometimes they've got a smattering of orange. It's fine to leave the skin on these, and you've probably seen it left on in your tempura. Kabocha is more floury, less squishy when cooked, and reminds me a bit of sweet potato. Also one of the shorter keepers; try to get to it within a couple months of purchase.

Turban: Festively multi-colored in splattered white, orange, yellow, and green. Turban squash has a large "cap" on a smaller, three- or four-lobed base. It has notes of chestnut; it's not as sweet as some of the others but it's definitely distinctive. I'm also of the opinion that turban squash makes the best roasted squash seeds, even better than pumpkin. They are large and wonderfully crunchy when roasted. Turban skin tends to be tougher.

Cinderella pumpkin: Yes, those huge and heavy ribbed pumpkins are edible and quite tasty. They come in all kinds of colors. I find that the traditional peach-to-orange ones usually taste the best. Because they are so large and dense, you may want to roast them whole, then cut them open and scrape out the seeds and strings afterwards. They will take a while. They can also be quite watery, so after you roast them, you may want to drain the liquid out of them, if you're doing pies or custards or other things that want a drier texture. You can use the liquid in soups or in your oatmeal. Pumpkin skin is generally too tough to be pleasant to eat.

Pie pumpkin: Typically a lighter orange than your traditional jack o' lantern pumpkin. A pie pumpkin should be fairly small but not tiny, and heavy for its size. Any pumpkin that is light for its size is mostly cavity and not meat. Pie pumpkins are sweet for pumpkins, but I find they're generally not quite as sweet as butternut squash or kuri.

Speaking of sweet:

Not pictured here, because they are gigantic and typically sold in pieces, if you can find them at all these days, are banana squash. If you have the opportunity to purchase a piece of banana squash, treat it just like any other squash -- season it up and roast it. Banana squash is delicious.

[castletown-cafe]

Castletown Café Episode 24: Butler Juice (Yellow)

HEY EVERY  !! Been a while, hasn't it? I’m back with another Butler Juice that’s as sunny and flavorful as summer itself: the yellow variety! While Butler Juice is said to change color and flavor with temperature, this sunshine-colored-punch tastes best when kept refrigerated, especially during warmer weather.

I experimented a bit with the amounts of pineapple and mango for this drink to achieve a delicious result, so that the pineapple doesn’t overpower the flavor. Because mango is used, it may have a slightly slimy texture, but with a cheesecloth, I managed to reduce its sliminess a bit. If you’re hypersensitive to food textures, you can just remove the mango to get yourself a pineapple lemonade. Still yellow, still delicious.

You’ll also need fresh lemons, about 3 or 4, to get one whole cup of freshly squeezed lemon juice. I only needed two and a half because I had bought some huge lemons, but average-size lemons may call for at least four , but if you’re using even smaller lemons, such as Meyer lemons, you may need 8! One thing to keep in mind: the heavier the lemon, the more juice it has, so be sure to get yourself some lemons with a good weight to them!

Just like in my recipe for the blue Butler Juice, you’ll need simple syrup - about 3/4 cup of it to dilute the tartness of the lemon and pineapple juice! I’ll repeat the recipe for that here, just so you don’t have to go looking for it (or if you don’t want to tap the link). I suggest making the simple syrup first, before juicing your lemons.

For the pineapple, you only need 1 cup. You can use fresh or canned, I opted for buying fresh, pre-sliced pineapple because whole ones can be very tricky to cut up, what with their tough skin and everything. If you’re skipping the mangoes entirely, you can add more pineapple to taste to make up for it.

Speaking of mangoes, you’ll need two. I try to get as much of the fruit in there as possible. For mango cutting, (this guide explains it better than I can), you cut the wide ends off, slice the fruit, but try not to cut the peel. Turn the peel inside out, and scrape the fruit off of it and into your blender or food processor. Repeat this three more times. Now, you’ll still have some fruit around the large, flat seed in the middle. Those parts are harder to cut off. I try to peel what’s left, then slice as much fruit off near the big stone as I can. Often, I’m squeezing the remaining fruit around the stone over the blender to get as much juice out of it, because the fruit there is stringy and hard to cut off. Since mangoes are a slimy fruit, it may be better not to try this as it may make your drink slimier, but I like to get as much of that tasty mango juice in there as possible!

Water is also needed, mainly to dilute the lemon juice. The water is added to the pineapple and mango and blended all together (the lemon juice and simple syrup go into a big bowl or pitcher first and are mixed together). Use a fine mesh strainer or cheesecloth, whichever you have that’s finer, to separate as much juice from the pulp as possible. Strain and squeeze over your bowl as you’ll have more room and are less likely to miss.

Stir up your juice and then ladle it into a pitcher, then store it in your refrigerator.

BUTLER JUICE (YELLOW):

3/4 cup granulated sugar

4 cups water, divided

2 mangoes, peeled and cubed

1 cup pineapple, cut into bite-sized slices

1 cup freshly squeezed lemon juice (about 3-4 average-sized lemons)

Combine sugar and 1 cup of water in a saucepan over medium-high heat. Bring to a boil, stirring occasionally. Once syrup is boiling, reduce heat to low and let simmer for five minutes, stirring occasionally, until sugar is dissolved. Remove from heat and let cool.

Wash and dry lemons and mangoes, slice lemons in half and squeeze out the juice with a hand citrus juicer, until you fill up 1 cup. Add lemon juice to a large mixing bowl with 3/4 cup cooled syrup and stir.

Slice off the wide sides of the mangoes and slice fruit into cubes without cutting the peel, then turn inside out (OR you can just peel and cube your mango halves). Scrape cubed mango off the peel into the blender. Peel and cut off remaining mango around the core and add into the blender as well.

Slice up fresh pineapple chunks or canned pineapple and fill 1 cup - don’t chop TOO finely however, or that will be way more pineapple than you need (unless you’re omitting the mango). Just cut up big chunks into bite-sized pieces. Add to blender.

Add the remaining 3 cups of water into the blender, put the lid on, and set to Liquefy or Puree. Blend until a smooth, lumpy juice forms.

With a fine mesh strainer or cheesecloth, squeeze out or strain the pineapple-mango mixture to separate as much juice from the fruit pulp as possible. You may need to do this a little at a time if you’re using a cheesecloth.

Stir together your yellow Butler Juice, and ladle into a pitcher. Place in the refrigerator to chill and to keep it fresh.

Pour juice into a glass and enjoy!

[kagrena]

@jiubilant

From the diary of Knocks-on-Wood, Caravan Drover to Vyra Demnevanni:

Midnight. 14th, Last Seed. 1E 649. Trade Job: Nine. Route: Nchuleftingth -> Bamz-Amschend (via. Sadrith Mora). Progress: 26km. Wind: East, 96. Weather: Clear. Lunch: Steamed ash yam and hackle-lo saltrice with crab. Progress Report: Little to report. Steady progress. Calm weather. No sickness. Miscellaneous Notes: "What's your fondest memory?"

[TEAR IN PAGE. REST OF ENTRY MISSING]

"It's… well."

She looks distant. Like the world's going pale. There's nothing but grass under her knees and stars up dotting the sky and since the wind's stopped, all of a sudden, and it makes the quiet feel so loud.

It's late. You wonder whether maybe, maybe you both should've gotten flat-out drunk instead.

Dangerous territory, questions.

"It's my, ah." She speaks without warning. "My uma."

Before you can ask—

"Ma or pa, mum or dad, mama or papa—" She twists a hand, like she's the esteemed noble instead of the wild cast-off, as she says those words, "—or what have you. The chimer words for them always felt so wrong."

She takes a long sigh. Leans right back into the dirt. Doesn't look at you.

"My uma. I don't remember much about her. Suppose that's why it's so fucking fond." She hacks out a laugh. "Ironic. Half of what I remember isn't even mine. Her face, I only know what she looks like from the daguerrotypes my omas kept around. She's younger in those than I am by decades. Hadn't even gone on sabbatical yet—"

She shut her mouth, suddenly. And she's quiet for a while. She – damn, was this too far? You hadn't even expected an answer—

"I don't even know what she sounds like. You know, they say you'll mourn twice, the day you forget your uma's voice." There's a hasty laugh, tough, under her breath. "I mix hers up with my uncle's and some of my cousins'. Dawned on me a while back that I muddled them all up. I couldn't even tell you the day I forgot."

You can't see in the dark. You can't see her pull at the dirt beneath her fingers.

"The bits that I do remember, they're nothing much... but they're mine. Smell of her hands. Her favourite earrings – the ones I thought were ugly. The pattern of her, um, fuck – cutting-garment? Not a robe, sturdier, more practical, it's workshop-wear, but still long... smock, or frock, maybe?

"That was my favourite thing. It changed colour. I mean, they all did – they're made from brass weave and spidersilk, and brass – brass can be lots of colours, depends on the light and tone. I remember hers had pink in it, sometimes, if the light was right."

She breathes out, suddenly.

"And it had these..."

She gestures, tracing something you can't see in the air.

"These parallel lines, that would trail out of floating semi-circles, and those lines would criss-cross each other, cut above and below without ever touching..."

Her hands twist around each other, at something out of reach.

"... I don't know how to explain it, but they were almost... they looked almost exactly like these stringy little sea creatures that'd wash up on the shore near Kemel-Ze. Looked like baby netch jellies made of wire. Called it her jelly-fish-frock."

You can almost feel her smile.

"I could've spent hours tracing the pattern on that damn thing. How every circle seemed to interlock, but didn't. How close it all got to crashing into each other, but didn't. Used to jump with my fingers from fish-leg to fish-leg, until my uma got tired of it and told me I'd spent too long, gone and drowned in the sea. Glug-glug-glug."

She sits up, suddenly. Hands still stuck mid-air.

"My uma – I remember this time. I'd gotten really upset about something – no idea what, I just remember being so upset and just... running and clinging to my uma. Clinging to that smock... and I think about how it smelled of her, her and fresh soap my omas made, and sometimes soot and hot metal and sometimes a little of the sea, because the soap couldn't always get rid of that smell. I didn't really give a damn. It was my uma. My uma. I'd just hold on to her, my uma, and try to bury myself in her clothes and cling on for dear life."

Her voice goes soft.

"Guess I thought I might drown too, if I let go, huh."

She puts her hands on her knees. She doesn't look at you for the longest while.

"... it was a really nice texture," She mumbles under her breath. "Just... really smooth."

[syncopation53]

Anyways not to be mentally ill about kai again for the upteenth time but I was just turning over how exactly interactions between him and nimbus would go in my head. Because as much as I love our sweet dumb thembo nimbo as any other lightfall enjoyer, I think it’s a bit of a watered down interpretation at best and a woeful misinterpretation of their character just to fit the popular framework of the trope at worst. Maybe I’ll make another post later about their character in-depth after I go rewatch a playthrough or something. Maybe

Anyways. getting off track. kai and nimbus. two of the Most characters ever. Nimbus can and will absolutely see through his edgy tough guy act in a split-second and not think a single thing of it as they instantly clock this guy as absolutely starved for positive attention and proceed to make it their life’s goal to befriend him and offer him compliments as much as possible. Kai is having a mental breakdown not only because of Strand and how mastering it means to relinquish control and Light and Darkness not being moral opposites but also this tall buff simple and fun-loving stranger is just?? being nice to him??? for no reason?? And it’s honestly kinda sad how it’s taken over a century and a quarter for literally anyone he’s ever met to be friendly towards him just. because they can. because they want to be. because they see someone worth being nice to in him, somehow. And it drives him up the fucking wall because that’s not how things work with him. Everyone who’s ever nice to anyone only wants to get something out of them and will turn on them the second they do something wrong or the other person doesn’t get what they want. His is a world of secrecy and manipulation and playing your emotions as close to your chest as you can manage so no one ever has a clear advantage over you

But nimbus doesn’t care about any of that. Kai’s out there smacking bad guys with green stringy stuff and they genuinely think that’s the coolest shit they’ve ever seen so they tell him that, no false modesty or pretense about it, just genuine compliments and encouragements to someone who they can see desperately needs them. To kai it feels a little bit like some heavy weight being lifted off his shoulders for the first time in a very long time and a lot like having his ribcage torn open and his body skinned alive and left out in the heat of the midday sun to whither and burn and rot

[blackknightgargiefoodtopia]

Bali Paradise

My buddy and I decided to have Indonesian cuisine, and since he'd been to a place I've never been, it was a chance for me to try it out and give new material for this long awaited bloggie.

Location: Regent Square, behind the last row of buildings at the back

Outside decor

Apparently they also own a spa/saloon/massage parlour which is located right next to the restaurant itself. OK, maybe not massage parlour per se, but still, it does give off that kind of impression. For the record, massage parlours are now pretty much banned in Brunei, and prolly a very minute few are still operating underground. Talk about prohibition!

Setting: Looks pretty Indonesian,but somehow I can't get the feeling that it also has a strong hint of Thai in the design, or maybe that's just me

Random shot of the menu

Our drinks, which is carrot juice (mine) and usual Coke (my buddy)

My ayam goreng Suharti

Side dish of gado-gado

My buddy's ayam bakar special Bali Paradise (I think that's what it's called)

I seriously need to note down everything that we've ordered for better introduction of our dishes. But anyways...

My dish and my bud's are more or less similar, the only difference being that while mine is fried, his is grilled, and our dip is also different, in which his is sambal while mine is green chilli puree. Not sure how my bud's dish tastes like, but my chicken was alright, albeit a little bit oily, but then it's fried, so it's a given, and the meat is a little bit stringy and slightly tough, but still edible.

The gado-gado was interesting. It kinda reminds me of rojak, but the difference is that our local rojak consists of fruits, vegs and glutinous rice, while gado-gado is also glutinous rice, but mostly with just vegs, a bit of seafood and those little bean thingies (can't remember the name) that usually are included in most ayam penyet dishes (and not exactly my fav). The sauce still taste the same as the sauce used on local rojak though.

It's a pretty interesting place. A little bit remote, but the food and the services are satisfying. I'd prolly recommend it if you're in a craving for Indonesian food.

Overall rating:

[rusteddreamsstories]

Raw Bone

Short story  Post-apocalyptic  Triggers / Warnings - Not nice people doing not nice things. Violence. Harsh language.  General post-apocalyptic-ness.   Summary:  After a series of unspecified apocalyptic events, a pair of former members of a billionaire’s security detail share conversation and a meal around a fire.  Enter a world where small towns are built out of former suburban American stores, where tough people name their dogs out of 1980s cartoon villains and where people who probably should regret their life-choices are saved by clever acts of defiance.   _________________________   Raw Bone    Game meat was getting scarce to find, but Mickey and Dan had enough to share between them.  They’d chuck the bone they were scraping with their big combat-knives over to Tor when they’d gotten enough flesh off of it. The dog already had an abundance of bones to gnaw on.  Alex should be back with Meg shortly.  If his latest hacking attempt had worked, they’d get more than some nasty, stringy meat from a hastily-slaughtered elderly animal.  If they all were really lucky, the liver that they’d cut up and used as bait for traps would net them some tastier game.   All in all, it was a lot of work for little return, but folks had to make do when the land had been blighted and feeding themselves became difficult.  The kill had given the pair at the fire great satisfaction.   “Suppose he’ll crack it soon?” Mickey asked before she brought a skewer of campfire-roasted meat to her mouth and tore off a tough chunk.  She arranged a few raw bits onto another bit of metal as she chewed.  She coughed.  A trash fire wasn’t optimal for flavor or health, but it was better than nothing.  She wasn’t about to eat this any other way than well-cooked.   “Any day now, maybe any hour,” Dan muttered. “Either that or the blow-torch has got to work, provided we can find enough fuel.” “I suppose we ‘knew what we signed on for,” Mickey groused as she set up the fresh, drippy skewer by the flames.   Dan took the femur they’d been stripping, now just a raw bone and stood up gripping it in one meaty hand.   “Tor!” he called out into the open, “Pah-wheep!” he whistled.  “Skeletor! Come here!” A large German Shepherd with fur that was grizzled at the outer edges loped up from inspecting the dry weeds that had overgrown the broken parking lot.  Camping on a median – that was what their little group had been reduced to.  They could go inside the Tower for shade, but carpeted hallways were poor grounds for a fire.  And who knew?  One of the old cars might just have enough gas to run for a few miles if they could get the battery working.  They hadn’t checked them all.   Dan tossed the bone to the ground and Tor’s teeth fell upon it gratefully.  If the little group was lucky, perhaps he and Meg could breed some pups at some point, something that Mickey, Dan, Alex and the others they were with could either train up for protection and hunting, trade for the same or have as food when it came down to it.  Neither Dan nor Mickey wanted to think of their dogs as livestock, so the last option was only a final resort. “Tor” was short for “Skeletor.”  “Meg” was a bitch, not fitting her masculine full name, which was “Megatron.”  It had become a joke in their unit to name all of their dogs after villains from 1980s cartoons.  There were, and had been more.  Poor Texhex had gotten shot by a scavenger.  Starscream had run off to God knows where.  Hordak was keeping their sniper, Benny, company guarding the Tower. Dr. Claw was out with Sarah and Rodger hunting for squirrels.   Mickey had taught Dan how to crack roasted squirrel-skulls for the brains – a ‘hillbilly delicacy’ as she had put it, something she’d learned from her parents where she’d grown up and had been doing since she learned to hunt and cook as a kid in a place that used to have many trees.  Dan had taught her how to shelter down during a dust storm – a frequent feature of the place he’d grown up in even before their former boss and others like him had wrecked the world, hoarding wealth by selling resources, lives, bodies and minds to one another.  The man and the woman looked out on the horizon and a cloud of brown.  It was in the distance and appeared to be moving away from them, but they knew that the wind could turn in a second.  Most likely, they would have time to finish eating and to smoke some meat and so they decided not to take shelter yet.   “Could always go to Giant,” Dan mumbled between cramming bites between his jagged teeth.  “Actual settlements are better than this.  Hopin’ for a storage and hydroponics farm put up behind walls to be cracked open when the food will probably just rot before we get to it? It’s takin’ too goddamed long!” “We can’t go to Giant,” Mickey said with a stern glare at him, “because the last time we met those people we were shooting at them!”  She plunged a stake of meat down by the fire hard.  “We were on orders to fire into the crowd!  There were children there!” “Teenagers,” Dan huffed, “hardly little children.  Teenagers scare the shit outta me.” “We can’t go to Giant.  I’m sure they’ll recognize our faces… the guards, someone will.” The two were speaking of a small town just up the road, walled in cinderblock all around.  It was centered on a former grocery store, actually.  People had turned it into a settlement, living within the store and in old housing and other vacant stores around it.  It was quite genius.  While the apocalypse was a slow-burn, when every institution was in its final collapse, the local survivors had banded together.  Instead of simply raiding the store, they chose to make use of it – rationing out its goods and actually planting some of the fertile produce.  Now, many of the goods found in a store during the late-stage capitalism of the twenty-first century were not, in fact, fertile, even if one thought they should be. Seedless watermelons, corn bred to produce a single crop and otherwise be sterile - but many goods escaped this fate. Some plants could not be engineered or husbanded for consumer or corporate preferences completely away from nature.  The budding town had been saved by gardening hobbyists who knew how to grow things from cuttings and to tease out seeds.   Another successful town nearby, a trading partner and a potential merger in the near future was Hompot.  It had been built around and within an old construction materials and hardware store.  Mickey and Dan were not likely welcome there, either.   Mickey took a stick of roasted meat off the fire and tore into it.  It was tough, stringy and flavored by the smoke of scrap-wood and old cardboard. She winced and gulped down what she could not properly chew.  “What I’d give for a fresh tomato,” she sighed.   “The numbers don’t favor us on a raid right now,” Dan said. “They’ve got themselves armed up good, too.  Beggin’s our only option if we approach the towns and hopin’ they don’t recognize us.” “As I said, I don’t think we’re forgiven for following the boss’s orders.” “It was months ago, maybe a year?  That last push they made had to have been at least that long.”   “People don’t change their minds that quick, even with a good story – when folk were hurt and dead.  Hold tight.  Alex should have the vault cracked soon.”   “Glad we got the collars off, at least.” Mickey rubbed the back of her neck.  It was not long ago that their former boss had an almost total control over them.  The group of former mercenaries that gathered in and around the Tower was free now, and procuring their liberty had been surprisingly easy.   The boss had been incredibly wealthy – one of the richest men on the planet, although his name was not a household word. He was able to secure his privacy. He had inherited his fortune from his father and had grown the business, all while perpetuating the myth that he was a “self-made man” as all such wealthy bratlings do.  His work had been involved in the buying and selling of profitable poisons, which had been the key cause of making the world what it was today.  Most of what the man knew was how to hire people to do things.  In everything other than marketing, he had been dreadfully uncreative, himself.   The team of mercenaries, when hired, came into the boss’s employ for a variety of reasons.  Mostly, it was good pay and lodging – the kind of pay where one could have anything one wanted – the best of meals, the best of booze, the best of sex, and to indulge in more generalized hobbies – Benny with his cars, Mickey with her hunting trips, Sarah with her interest in keeping and breeding horses – a hobby less tenable now since they had to become food after the Series of Events. Very few of them had families, but those who did could care for them in comfort.  It was a good deal.  Dan enjoyed the access to high-powered weaponry – a hobby of his, entertainment on the target-range as well as the opportunity for violence if the need arose.  He also liked having a home with a swimming pool and a private theater.  The boss had paid them well when things were relatively peaceful.   The “loyalty insurance” was a necessary part of their contracts.  It had been two-fold.  The boss had tight control of the pay-schedule, which, at first, was money, and then was food when imaginary numbers started losing their value.  The other part of it was thin collars affixed around the necks of each member of the security detail – even around the dogs. There was an apparatus within each collar that could deploy tiny needles releasing a powerful neurotoxin stored within a chamber – a very small amount, but enough to stop a 300 lb man in his tracks, a near-instantaneous death.  The boss held the codes to each collar.   Too bad for him that he didn’t actually know how the technology worked, having relied upon supposedly loyal engineers – from a firm that had designed these things for multiple billionaires.  Dan and Mickey did not know if there had been a legitimate flaw in their design, something that the designers did not know about, or if it had been put there on purpose.  Mickey, for her part, believed that the engineers of the devices, when confronted with the ghastly prospect, were likely overworked and underpaid enough to just say “fuck it” and to give their fellow minions a simple out.   Alex and Sarah had figured out that if one wedged a penny beneath a component of the collar, the injection-mechanism shorted out and was completely disabled.   “Ah, yeah, those things,” Mickey reminisced. “It was like those shopping carts at grocery stores that you’d take from the caddy with a quarter!”   “Alex said that a quarter wouldn’t work, needed the copper.”   “Still as easy as taking a cart from a chain! I honestly couldn’t believe it was THAT dumb.”   “Boss never checked, wouldn’t have known how!” They both laughed.   Of course, they’d worn their collars as a “fashion statement” when shit had really hit the fan and they were demanding their rations for the final time.  The mercs didn’t exactly “choose their own leader” – not specifically. Each of them led in different expertise, wherever they’d had specific talent and experiences.  This is why some of them were great at hunting, Dan was good at defense and heavy guns, and their “nerds” were at work cracking things that their boss managed to not flub up in terms of keeping locked and keeping secret codes for only in his head.   Not that anything was in his head anymore. The man had been pretty surprised when his small army of hungry, angry security detail had apparently grown tired of picking off the masses who’d just been trying to survive by getting into his stuff were demanding said stuff themselves and had gotten into the penthouse. Dan had a huge grin on his face. “Remember how hard he was pressing that collar trigger of his for my set and how low his jaw hung when it didn’t work?” “Alex was downright SMARMY when he explained the design-flaw!”   “He was right when he said ‘But you don’t have the garden-vault codes!’  Thought the idiot would have them right on his desktop, but no…” “I guess you have to have some smarts to become a near-trillionaire, even if you trust too many people to just do things for money too much.”   “I feel like an idiot.  Can’t get codes from splattered brains.  I was too quick on the trigger.  Should have held him, drawn it out of him.”   “Meh,” Mickey assured him, “He serves.”   She bit into her meat-skewer.   “That he does,” Dan agreed, “Though I wish he hadn’t been so old, or exercised as much.  Damn meat’s stringy!”   A scrawny blond figure came running out of the tower and over to the broken parking lot and its median to the two figures by the fire. He was followed by a white dog – the same breed as Tor, though not the same color.  “Guys! I got it!” Dan and Mickey looked up at him. “No foolin’?”  Dan asked.   “No foolin’!  Tons of stuff ready to harvest!  You wouldn’t believe what’s in there!  There are even some pigs and a sheep-pen in there!  Robotic rationing system for their feed so they’re all still alive and plump! The pigs haven’t even started eating each other yet!”   “Tomatoes?”  Mickey asked hopefully.   Alex fisted his hands and put them on his hips and stood up tall with a smug, happy look on his face.  “Tomatoes,” he said, “And lots of them.” He sniffed the smoky air.  “You can probably stop eating the rich now.”   Mickey dramatically finished the skewer in her hand, tearing the last chunk of rough-cooked meat off with a tug.  “Nah, I like the feeling of it.”   Tor happily chewed on the red raw leg-bone behind them.  

[weilongfu]

Prompt: nymph au with AePete and TinCan + Pin & Tan!!!

From the branches of his tree, Pete watched the three grown wolves lounging about his roots as they watched their children play. Ae and Tin in particular looked grumpy despite how every bit of laughter and every giggle out of Pin and Tan made their lips twitch. Can, to his credit as Tan's adoptive father and Pin's pack uncle, shouted encouragement at the two children enough to cover all three wolves and Pete.

And then some.

"Come on Tan! You can't let Pin out run you forever!" Can shouted which made Tin huff.

"He's letting Pin out run him on purpose." Tin rolled his eyes. "Stop pointing it out before somebody's ego gets hurt."

Ae's throat rumbled with a pack leader level growl and Pete could see Tin's hackles rise immediately. Can did too, apparently, if the way he suddenly tossed himself into Tin's lap with his wolf ears perky and tail swishing innocently, was an indication.

"Oi Tin, speaking of egos..." Can dragged a calloused finger tip down the side of Tin's neck, immediately getting his attention. "You never did tell me what you thought of the kill I brought back yesterday..."

Tin snorted. "Size does not make a good kill."

"It fed everyone in the pack yesterday!"

"The meat was tough and stringy," Tin said as he absentmindedly pet Can's head, contradicting his criticism. "Tan could barely eat his share."

Can cocked his head. "I saw him gobble it down like it was nothing and run off to hunt something more tender for Pin." Tin scowled and Ae snickered just a bit at the previously lone wolf's expression.

Pete chose that moment to casually fall into Ae's lap, eagerly awaiting the warm arms that wrapped around his waist and the soft puffs of breath across the nape of his neck. "Ae, to his credit, Pin has been getting faster, hasn't he?"

Ae nodded and rubbed his cheek against the back of Pete's neck, causing Tin to gag at the open display of affection. At least until he yelped from Can licking his cheek. "He's been getting better at running with the pack. It'll be a while before he can keep up yet, but it's good progress for our pup."

"See Tin," Can said before nipping the underside of Tin's jaw, earning him a different kind of growl. "Tan is actually trying to keep up now. Ae said so."

"He did not say anything of that-"

"Oh!" Pete pointed at the children. "Look, Pin managed to tackle Tan."

Everyone immediately turned their gaze to the field in time to watch Pin lick Tan's cheek and immediately giggle while his tail swished happily. Tan's cheeks turned red before he rolled them over and leaned down. Just before their cheeks could touch, Pin and Tan found themselves yanked away by Ae and Tin.

"Papa!" Pin cried. "That's not fair!" Ae instead rubbed his cheek against Pin's to soothe him, which did not do much while Pin watched Tin rub his spit off of Tan's cheek. "Uncle Tin! No! I won! That's my mark I won!"

"You're too young for that," Tin mumbled, but it was more directed at Tan than anyone else. "And who told you to try scenting Pin? You're definitely too young to lay a claim like that."

Tan cast his gaze down, avoiding his father's eyes. "Well... Papa Can said that if I like someone..."

Tin immediately turned his gaze to Can, who had bolted up Pete's tree for sanctuary. Helpless, Tin turned to Ae, who refused to answer with his hands full of a fussy half-nymph, half-wolf pup while Tan jumped around his ankles in his puppy wolf form trying to make Pin laugh.

Frustrated, Tin settled for sulking in wolf form and grumbling under Pete's tree, waiting for Can to come back down. Can looked at Pete for mercy. Pete simply smiled and pushed him out of his tree and onto Tin's back, causing a yelp that made Tan run back to see what his parents were doing to cause such strange noises.

Ae followed eventually, a much calmer and happier Pin in tow. Pete offered Pin one of his peaches and smiled as Pin ate half in a few bites before removing the pit and offering the rest to Tan. Tan opted to stay in wolf pup form and instead licked the juice from Pin's fingers, making him giggle some more.

"One day, you'll have to acknowledge how much they like each other," Pete whispered into Ae's sensitive ear.

"Pin's only half wolf," Ae mumbled. "I won't have to worry about it for at least 20 more years. That's when nymphs are sexually mature."

Pete only sighed and opted not to open the can of worms that would come from telling his wolf mate that sexual maturity for nymphs and their trees were very different things.

[binniedeactivated]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫. || 𝐲𝐣🌪

pt. 2 | m.list

─▸🖤 ❝ @[@𝐛𝐮𝐠𝐬𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠.. ]

✎𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐲𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐧 𝐱 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤!𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥

✎ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞

✎ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭; 2k

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; 𝐈𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐛𝐞𝐭. 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐬𝐡𝐞'𝐝 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐭.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒; 𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐞

“can I?!”. she shrieked. winter sighed,

“yes baby you can give him a hug”. scurrying to his side the small girl wrapped her arms around yeonjun’s torso gratefully. yeonjun smiled a bit leaning over to hug her back. he was lucky winter couldn’t stand to see her daughter upset.

because if it was up to her, sarai would never touch or see yeonjun a day in her life.

“tommorow by together back on set in 2!”. the director shouts and yeonjun nods in his direction. He then glances over at winter.

“so? how you been?”.

chewing on the inside of her cheeks winter grows angry at the montage inside her head of her struggling with a child on her own throughout the years. words couldn’t explain the heartbreak she felt.

it was prank, I’d never seriously get in a relationship with your ugly, fat ass.

god winter just wanted to punch him where he was standing. she took Sarai and led her back into the hair and makeup chair while still staring yeonjun dead in his eyes.

“after this, I don’t ever want to speak or see you again choi yeonjun”.

and yeonjun could say something back but he gulps instead, having to be on set within a few seconds.

all in all he understood where she was coming from. he was an asshole back then and if he were her he wouldn’t speak to himself either. but the past was the past and he thought by this time she’d let it go.

and like the inevitable fate yeonjun was assigned to babysit Sarai for the day. He grew fond of the bubbly little girl who had a knack for dancing and singing which he loved the most about her. The both of them played The Michael Jackson Just dance experience game in unison being way too competitive than they were supposed to be but they were having fun.

Yeonjun made his moves smooth and sharp and she tried to outdo him of course making her moves hard and sharp as well. yeonjun laughs, “you think you can beat me huh?”.

“I can try! You’re a really good dancer!”.

“Me?! you’re a good dancer too! I need lessons from you”.

Sarai laughs, “I can teach you!”.

as soon as the song ends yeonjun collapses on the floor tiredly out of breath. he didn’t even check the score board but he could already tell he lost by the way Sarai was cheering.

“Yay!! In your face junnie! that’s what you get!”.

yeonjun laughs at her cuteness. “Fine! You got me this time”.

she cheers a bit more before hopping herself on yeonjun’s tummy, laying down on it as if she was tired also. she was so freaking cute. yeonjun had the urge to play with her thick curly black hair but he thought maybe it was too much? But he felt closer to her in a way, if that made sense.

“can we eat? I’m hungry! geesh!”.

Yeonjun hops to his feet, figuring out of all the members he was probably doing the worst at this whole “babysitting for a day” fiasco. But he was trying his best. he goes into the kitchen and begins taking down ingredients from the cabinet.

“Have you ever cooked korean food before?”. He asked. She stands beside the counter patiently with her arms raised. Yeonjun nods and assist her onto the counter top, she sways her legs as soon as she got up there. She was so lucky really, to be spending time with one of her favorite idols.

“no. my mommy says my dad is Korean. but I’ve never met him and we never do korean stuff”.

Yeonjun pouts his lips a bit, fetching things from the fridge. “I’m sorry about that Sarai. Consider yourself lucky today then. I’m going to show you how to make tteokbokki. One of Korea’s most famous dishes”.

she claps her hands gratefully, “for real?”.

“yes of course”.

“you’re lit”.

yeonjun laughs at her comment. the happiest of feelings swarmed through her chest. she then got an idea but grew a little nervous to ask.

“can you? can you teach me more Korean things too?”.

“yeah! what do you want to know?”.

she ponders for a moment letting her tiny fingers stroke her invisible beard. yeonjun thought it was the cutest thing in the world.

“maybe? Teach me how to say hi in korean!”.

“that’s easy. Say ah-nyong-ha-sè-yo”. he explained, carefully sounding out the syllables.

“Ahh nee..?”. She attempts.

“Ah-nyong!”, yeonjun repeats pointing to his lips.

“Ah-nyong!”. She repeats back. Yeonjun smiles.

“Good job! now say ha-sè-yo”.

“ha!-seyo?”.

“Good!! now say it all together”.

“ah-nyong!-haseyo!”.

“good job!!”. he enthuses raising a hand for her to slap. she smiles kind of proud of herself. besides being in korea with her mother for business ventures that’s the closest she ever got to actually being korean.

“you keep it up, you’ll be better at korean than me”.

“I hope so! I really want to be korean”.

“you want to be korean?”. yeonjun trails off bunching the food together, trying to figure out what she meant.

“yeah! my mommy teaches me black culture all the time. I want to know what it’s like to be korean too”.

yeonjun nods, “I got your back sarai. but just know that even when you aren’t with me you’ll always be korean. alright?”. 

she nods her head yes smiling at him a bit. she was thankful yeonjun was here at least to give her a little taste of her culture. and she meant that quite literally also. because after they were done with the anchovy broth they began slowly stirring the doughy rice cakes inside of it. yeonjun held a spoon up  to her tiny lips carefully, with his hand just below it, letting her taste a bit of what she was in for. 

she hesitantly but surely bit into the rice cake and sipped a bit of the broth along with it. it sparkled her taste buds more than she thought. yeonjun thought it was adorable at how her eyes lit up at the taste. “mmm! this is good! your mommy raised you right”. 

yeonjun laughs trying to figure out where in the hell she got her vocabulary from, “my mother raised me right? what’s that supposed to mean?”. 

“i don’t know my mommy says it”.

“well, being korean, this is one of the most important dishes of your life. this, and there’s also pah-p!”. 

“pap?”. 

“yes. pap is steamed rice in korean. we eat it with almost everything”. 

“so ya’ll just eat regular rice all the time? no seasoning?”.

yeonjun scoffs, not expecting her to say that at all.  “we season our food”.

she smacks her forehead in a relieved manner. “whew! good! I remember once I went over my mommy’s friends house and she didn’t season her food at all!”. 

yeonjun laughs. “what did it taste like?”. he asked anticipating her answer. 

“nothing! air!”.

yeonjun tilts his head back and chuckles while taking down a couple of bowls and two metal pairs of chopsticks. he brings it to the counter carefully and places a good amount of broth, cheese, and rice cakes into each. except he never knew how much a little girl could eat so he gave her a small bit for now. 

but she whined. 

“no! I want as much as you have junnie. you want me to starve?”,

“really? you sure you can eat all that?”. 

she nods assuringly and yeonjun was quite surprised. “wow, you eat like me”. she giggles as he give her another spoonful of the meal. she got more comfortable on the countertop so yeonjun figured maybe she felt more comfortable eating in the kitchen. he sat his bowl next to hers. he swiftly grabs the rice cake with his chopsticks and blows on it softly. but he couldn’t help but notice her using two hands eagerly chasing a piece of rice cake around with the both of them. 

he chuckles. “you use one hand. like this--”.

he places his hand over hers, “it’s kind of like you’re gripping a pen or pencil. put your middle finger in between. put your pinky and index finger under, place your thumb across them both and let your pointer finger grip the first one”. he says,one by one he adjusts each of her fingers.

“ta da!”. he exclaims at the finishing product and she smiles. “so I just grab them? like this?”. she asks, sticking her tongue out of her lips as she focused to grip the rice cake with the tips of the chopsticks. which she did perfectly. 

“high five!”. she happily raises her hand to slap his.  “period!”. she yells. yeonjun furrows a brow, 

“period?”. 

“yeah! you don’t listen to city girls? my mommy listens to city girls sometimes. they say it all the time!”. 

“city girls? no i’ve never listened to them but thank you for the song recommendation”. 

at last, she finally got a taste of tteokbokki and it’s fullness. she loved it more than anything, especially the stringy cheese. 

with her mouth still full she speaks. “do you have kids junnie?”. she questions getting the broth all over her lips and cheeks.

the camera men who seemed to be enjoying the two way more than they should’ve. they’ve been laughing at her this whole time. they thought sarai and yeonjun were the cutest duo. 

“woah! you shouldn’t speak with a full mouth”. jun laughs before grabbing a nearby tissue and swipes her cheeks and lips clean. “but no I don’t. I think I’m too young to have kids. don’t you think so?”. 

“no! I think you can have kids if you really want to. and they can be rich and good looking kpop stars like you!”.

he chuckles. “really? I don’t think I’d make my kid be a kpop star”. 

“why not?”. 

“because it’s a lot of work. it’s really stressful and you have to have tough skin to be in this industry”. he says while chewing. 

“tough skin?”. she repeats glaring at him with wonder while licking her chopsticks. 

“yeah. you have to be able to handle negative things really well. I like being a kpop star because I love singing, I love dancing, I love performing, I love my fans and I love my members. All of that is enough motivation for me to keep going. but sometimes it isn’t enough for others”.

“hm. so you wouldn’t want your kid to be a superstar? that’s cold!”. 

yeonjun laughs. “they can. but maybe they can be a star in a different way you know? maybe not kpop”. 

she thinks for a moment while munching. “you’re going to be a really good daddy someday junnie”.

he smiles again. “thank you sarai. you’re really cute do you know that? I love your skin”. 

“really?”. 

“yes, you’re like a cute little hershey kiss”. 

and with that the both of them laughed and ate themselves tired. when they were done yeonjun already had a sense that she was sleepy just by her rubbing her eyes consistently. he collected the bowls and put them in the sink just before carrying her to the couch and placing a blanket over her. she was asleep in no time. 

she’s so cute, yeonjun thought. at that point he no longer cared if he did the best among the babysitting. he genuinely enjoyed her company.

“hello? is this winter?”.

winter rubbed her eyes and pushed the phone closer to her ear. it happened to be early in the morning. very early morning to be exact. 

“yes. may I ask who I’m speaking to?”. 

“good morning. I hope we aren’t troubling you. This is BigHit Entertainment”. 

she felt her heart drop instantly. 

“ah good morning. is there something wrong?”. 

“not at all. we saw that your daughter sarai recently did a casting a couple of weeks ago with choi yeonjun from tomorrow by together and everyone loved it! we’ve been getting so many good calls about it and we were wondering if sarai was available to do another casting with choi yeonjun? payment included of course”. 

winter thought for a moment. she barely wanted sarai to be around yeonjun the first time, never minding a second time. she never wanted sarai to find about who her father was and likewise, she never wanted yeonjun to find out about her, because he was a monster and what he did was foul. he didn’t deserve a spot in her life even if he begged for it. 

“I’m glad and I’m so happy to hear that. Do you mind if I give you a call back soon? I just need time to think about my decision”. 

“sure! no worries. you have a nice day winter!”. 

“you too”. she says just before ending the call. 

[the-obiwan-for-me]

The Care and Feeding of Clan Kryze- Kenobi

At some point in “She Said the Word” (My Obitine AU), Tol’ket mentions being an expert on the care and feeding of Bo-Katan Kryze. Which made me wonder, what DOES Bo like to eat? Which then made me wonder about everyone else.

So, here it is, the definitive guide on the Care and Feeding of Clan Kryze-Kenobi.

Obi-Wan: Obi-Wan would have not called himself picky as a young man, but it took him a long time to adjust to the overwhelming spiciness that seems to be ubiquitous with traditional Mandalorian cuisine. The kitchen staff learned early on to dial down the heat for his sake….and be sure to provide appropriate condiments for the Duchess and her typical Mandalorian palate. Still, despite that, he is a game and adventurous eater, as long as the food isn’t trying to set his face on fire. But, if he had his way, he’d happily eat nerf burgers for the rest of his life.

Satine: Beyond her love for traditional Mandalorian cuisine, Satine is polite enough to eat what is set before her, but that doesn’t mean she will enjoy it. The one thing she does love, almost universally, is fruit, and hasn’t really found any type that she doesn’t enjoy. Some sort of fresh fruit can be found at all meals in the Kryze-Kenobi household.

Anakin: Food scarcity was a real thing for Anakin in his early childhood, so he will eat, quite literally, anything. He’s a bit fussy about meat, though, as the rare occasions he ate meat as a child were not great experiences. Tough, gamey, stringy roasted womp rats and off bantha meat just aren’t a great way to set up a kid for wanting to eat meat. As an adult, he tends to avoid it, only eating it when politeness dictates.

Padme: Like Satine, Padme was raised to politely eat whatever was set before her. Unlike Satine, she almost always enjoys everything. She’s never been picky, even as a small girl, and it has served her well in her life in politics. State dinners hosted by a wide assortment of species can mean some very odd, traditional meals, and, for the most part, she hasn’t found anything off putting. Except for the Mandalorians and their desire to blast their sinuses with heat. Despite the many shared meals she has had with her Mando’ade in-laws, she still finds herself coughing and sputtering at least once per meal. Padme does have a bit of sweet tooth and loves cookies, her favorite being, unbelievably, those mass produced blue wafer cookies. There is always a sleeve of them in her desk in her senate office. Always.

Korkie: Korkie loves food. All food. Any food. And he enjoys making his family squirm with the things he willing, eagerly tries when they are traveling. On his bucket list of foods to eat is a Felucian snail. Senator Orn Free Taa had told him about them when he was a small boy, and while the original tale had made him queasy, now all he wants is the chance to try one. He does also have a rabid sweet tooth, particularly for candy. 

Lily: Despite her bold and wild way of living, Lily struggles to eat in the same manner. If she had her way, she’d eat nothing but one particular meal and jogan fruit for the rest of her days. But she tries to be adventurous, if for no other reason as to not be shown up by her big brothers. In fact, because of her penchant to eat whatever they ate, it was often a game for them, as children, to see what they could get her to eat by them eating it first. She built a high tolerance for eating absolute garbage because of that dumb game, so can and will survive if she has to. Her one no-go is meat. She’s totally skeeved out by eating animals and refuses to do so.

Bo-Katan: Bo started out life much like Satine- too polite not to eat what is in front of her- and while she is more or less still the same, her palate has changed drastically. Life in a secret terrorist organization doesn’t lend itself to fine dining. She tends to be very put off by things that are too sweet, too rich, too fatty, too salty. She likes simple foods (and heat. Lots of heat. The spicier, the better. She’s kriffing Mando’ad, after all). She hates the heavily processed, overly preserved food that seems rampant in soldier life, and avoids things like ration bars and MREs like the plague, only eating them when absolutely necessary. Flat bread and other baked goods are the best way to make an exhausted, underfed, overworked Bo-Katan easier to deal with. 

Tol’ket: He and Bo have a similar palate, though for very different reasons. A soldier raised by a soldier raising a half dozen of his grandchildren meant that food was made to be simple, easy, and in large quantities. So, grown up Tol’ket tends to prefer simple, easy food. Despite that, he has slowly broadened his culinary horizons as Sundari has grown, carefully trying new and different cuisines that aren’t too weird, but definitely not the simple Mandalorian cuisine he grew up on. He’s found he likes a particular noodle dish (Mando cuisine doesn’t really lend itself to noodles...too complicated to make) and on the rare occasion he isn’t eating in his office, he can be found slurping up noodles at that one place he really likes. He also has a serious sweet tooth and an undying love of uj’alayi.

Ahsoka (of course she’s included): Another one who will eat literally anything. Partly due to good etiquette from being raised in the temple, partly due to her ridiculously high Togruta metabolism, there isn’t a meal Ahsoka won’t enjoy. She wasn’t sure about the spiciness of Mandalorian cuisine, but it’s growing on her, and Korkie gave her a bottle of her favorite Mando hot sauce to take with her. Now she can have a little taste of Mandalore wherever she is. She only shares it with Rex, though. Ahsoka also has developed quite the taste for uj’alayi. So much so, in fact, that it is common knowledge that if uj’alayi is being served at a family function she and Tol’ket will both be at, three need to be baked- one for her, one for him, and one for everyone else.

Ursa Wren (honorary ba’vodu): Krownest’s climate doesn’t exactly lend itself to a wildly diverse diet, even for Clan Wren, so Ursa grew up on a fairly simple diet of hunted game, tubers, and berries. Off world food and snacks were rare treats. Ursa doesn’t consider herself picky, which makes Bo-Katan laugh, because Ursa doesn’t know what to make of things like leafy green vegetables. Alrich, whose taste palate is as refined as his art, has slowly worked on expanding her culinary horizons, but, despite Ursa’s proclivity for reading recipes and watching cooking holoshows, she still can barely choke down a green salad and is happiest with a simple stew. She’s trying, though. Those Felucian snails he ordered for them that one time were actually really quite good.

[thelifeofprettycommitteealpha]

Style Your Hair

Styling your hair can make you look more attractive and create a vibe. It's a great way to bring out your personality. There are many ways you can style your hair, and you should find the best style for you. Although styling your hair depends on the length and texture of it, there are many ways to accomplish a look that suits your personality. 

Treating Your Hair Properly

Go easy on the shampoo or your hair will look dry. Not everyone needs to wash their hair every day. If your hair’s dry, you should wash it every 2 or 3 days. Wash it every day only if it’s greasy.

Nourish your hair to keep it shiny. If your hair is curly or has split ends, it probably needs moisture. Look for products with moisturizing ingredients like natural oils and avoid products with alcohol.

Be careful about applying too much heat to your hair.  There’s almost nothing more damaging to hair than over-styling it with heat products like blow dryers, electric curlers or curling irons. No style will look good on fried hair.

Get a great cut – and the right brush or comb. If your hair is limp or doesn’t have a good cut, it’s not going to hold a style well. So it’s worth it to go to a salon every six weeks to get those split ends trimmed off. While you’re there, ask your hairdresser which brush will be best for your hair type.

Use a shampoo that fits your hair color and texture, and use conditioner, when you do wash your hair. Maybe you need creams or sprays if your hair’s too messy.

In fact, it can actually be easier to style “dirty” hair that hasn’t been washed for a couple days. It will hold curl better. Brush your hair from bottom to top so there are no knots in it before you style it.

Invest in some healing oil or hair masks to keep your hair healthy as you grow, cut, or dye your hair to reach the desired style. Instead of a conditioner, you could put a natural oil in your hair such as coconut oil or argan oil.  Use it mid-lengths and down to your tips for shine and health.

If your hair is thin or lacks volume, look for products with biotin, collagen or keratin in them as these products help build hair’s thickness and keep it strong. You can also put conditioner in your hair, and then put your hair in a shower cap, and sleep with the cap on. When you take the cap off, just rinse your hair like you normally would.

Air dry the hair as much as possible to keep it healthy. If you must blow dry it, use a diffuser. This is a product that attaches to the end of a blow dryer to lessen the damage from the heat.

Use a heat protectant spray to protect your hair. Spray heat protectant on every part of the hair you want to curl. Don’t hold it too close to your head or your hair may become damp from the liquids, and you won’t be able to curl it.

There are many different shapes and bristle types that all have different effects on your hair. When starting to style the hair, be sure not to brush it too much. Brushing can cause frizz or even damage hair. Instead, try to use a wide tooth comb. They tend to be easier on the hair. 

Layered cuts will bring out natural curl. If you’re looking for straight hair, wear your hair longer. Be aware that shorter cuts can be tough with very curly hair. If you’re a man, you can’t expect gel to fix everything. You need a decent haircut. For women, with long hair, this is especially true if you want your hair to look styled and not stringy.

Picking a Style

Consult experts to get a better idea of which style works for you.  There are people who are trained in styling hair. Why try to figure it out yourself? Consult someone who’s an expert. If you can’t afford to – go online. The Internet is a great place to find tutorials for every kind of hairstyle imaginable.

Study a range of styles before you pick one. Think about all of the hairstyles you admire, and gather photos of them. Narrow these down to three styles you would really love to try, while matching them to styles that look good for your face shape and work with your lifestyle (longer hair takes more care).

Know your hair texture and length. Knowing the thickness, length texture, and growth rate of your hair can help you determine which styles are practical.  Above shoulder length hair is usually considered short, and medium hair is generally at your shoulder to a bit down your back. Long is anything below that.

Have a good sense of your own personality. Trying to copy every single new hair style fad out there is not the best idea. You need to pick a style that suits your personality and circumstance. There are many styles you could choose from, including braids, waves, short, permanent, dreadlocks, half shaved, designed or highlights.

Figure out your face shape, so you pick a style that flatters you. Every style isn't going to look good on every face. That's the bottom line. So you need to figure out what looks best with your own shape. 

Experiment with non-permanent options. It’s a good idea to test out styles you like before you go for a more permanent option, so you can take some photos and see how they look.

Get help from a hairdresser or stylist. These are professionals who will style your hair and explain to you how to do it on your own. Ask your local salon whether they have hair stylists who will give you lessons on styling your hair.

If you need your hair styled for a big event such as a prom or a wedding, consider having your hair done professionally. If that’s not an option, practice before the big day so you have a feel for how it’s done.

Check out You Tube tutorials or websites. Just go to You Tube and search for the  hairstyle you want. There are many how-to videos that will walk you through how to get a certain look.

Do you appreciate highlights or unnatural colors? Do you prefer a certain length? What color do you want? Single out celebrities with hair that’s wavy like yours or who have a face as round as yours as this will allow you to preview how the style will look on you.

Get feedback. Ask your friends, hairdresser, and family members about their opinions on your style ideas. It is your hair and your style, but they may offer up ideas you hadn’t thought of or suggestions for keeping your style appropriate. Mix it up. Try not to fall into the rut of always wearing your hair up or always wearing your hair down.

You should be able to tell your hair thickness just by looking and feeling it, but there are basically 2 hair thickness categories – fine or thick. Do you have straight, curly or wavy hair naturally?

If you have short hair, then you can do tight curls, cute crimps, and adorable accessorizing. For medium hair, you can do braids, and curls/waves/crimps/straightening, buns, ponytails. For long hair, you can do pretty much anything.

First of all, know yourself. Look into the mirror and ask what kind of person you want to be. Always select your dress first too. Consider your work circumstances. Does the style match the work environment?

It’s often a good idea to work with what you have naturally to accentuate your beauty. Straightening curly hair or curling straight hair every day can damage your hair, and it’s a lot of work.

To determine your face shape, look in the mirror, and draw an outline of your face on the mirror with lipstick. Then, look at the shape and decide what shape it looks most like. Heart-shaped faces, for example, don’t work as well with short hair but do look good with the hair pulled back. If you have a square face, you want to stick to cuts that highlight your cheekbones, and soften your chin, like layers starting from the bottom of your ears down to your shoulders.

If your face is particularly bell shaped, but the top half is smaller, then you want to avoid bangs and short haircuts. If your ears are particularly big, you might want to consider growing your hair out long. If you have a large forehead, some bangs on your face or a side parting are a good idea. Oval faces can go with pretty much any hairstyle but if you have stronger features, like a rectangle or diamond face shape, you may want softer lines to soften your look.

A tight ponytail or slicked-back style might not be a good idea if you're insecure about your forehead or face shape. Bangs can be ideal to shape a face, whether straight or slanted. A bob line can elongate your neck. A bun can be very sophisticated, along with other up-dos. A ponytail can be carefree, fun and young.  

For example, try a curling iron a few times before getting a permanent. You could even put on a wig to see how you look with a color or a look.

Use temporary hair dye before going to the salon, and try bang clip ins or hair extensions before taking scissors to your hair or growing it out.

You can find many free websites online that will allow you to upload a photo of yourself and try different hairstyles on it, to test out how they look. Consider the type of message you want people to get when they look at you. A good natural look says you’re easy going. If you want to look like a rebel, you can use color for effect or even shave part of your hair.

Achieving the Look

Use products to shape your hair. Some examples of hair shaping products are hair wax or mousse. To make your hair more manageable use products such as curl control or de frizzing serums for curly hair, volumizers for thin hair, or hair spray.

Don’t make your hair too stiff or over-styled. People – guys and girls – both like hair they can run their fingers through. So you want soft touchable hair that is not too crispy or greasy. Use the right products, and use them minimally.

Bring out natural wave. If your hair already has a little natural wave to it, a great way to style it is to simply bring out and enhance that already existing curl. For more beachy curls, try working a sea-salt spray into your hair after misting it over. This creates great texture, and a natural soft wave. 

Curl your hair to give it some bounce.  There are different kinds of heat you can use – a flat iron, a curling iron, or Velcro or electric rollers. Sometimes you do need to apply heat to get some curls. 

Try a bun or braids. These are quick options that give you hair a little more style and class. They are also pretty easy to do.

Put your hair up with creative styles. A simple style for thin hair is leaving the hair down, taking the two front pieces, and tying them in the back. Adding a flower crown gives the style a very indie-hippie feel. Curling the hair in this style looks nice if heat protectant is accessible.

Give your hair more volume. Although you should watch the amount of heat you regularly direct toward your hair, there are times you might want to turn to a blow dryer to give your hair more volume. 

Dry shampoo is your best friend. Use it for volume and texture or as a cover up for oily hair or roots if it matches your colored hair.

Buy good products, not the cheapest thing you can find in a grocery store. The difference will be in the finish, the feel, and the smell. Don’t put too much product in because that can lead to the hair appearing oily. Focus on the strands of the hair, rather than the top of the head. Try to distribute the product evenly by dividing the hair into sections.

Try Make Hair Accessories. Hair bands look really good with short hair! Use a chunky headband to hide 2nd-day grease or unruly bangs. You could also use a clip or ribbon to dress up a ponytail or bun.

Use a high-quality wax. The best way to style your hair is to use a good quality wax - take a small amount and heat slightly by rubbing your palms together. Then, make sure you get it in all of your hair before styling into position.

For men, to create a look that is bit spiky or chaotic consider using a wax or gel that won’t harden your hair and make it look more natural. If you’re a man, squirt some on your hands, spread it around, apply it all over your hair, then work it in with an upward motion, as if you are trying to send your hair to the center of your head. The spikes form on their own from you pushing the hair up. Work in the wax like a setter, and fluff it up.

After you get out of the shower with freshly shampooed hair, dry the hair and apply mousse. Be sure not to use too much. Flip your head over and apply the mousse upside down and scrunch, scrunch, scrunch.

Then let hair dry naturally for 30 minutes to an hour. Finish up with a blow dryer on low speed and cool air. If your hair is heavy and doesn't hold curl well, after the blow drying, scrunch and tease the roots while your hair is upside down.

Apply hairspray. Blow dry the hairspray, low speed, cool temperature. Flip your hair over and enjoy!!  

To flat iron, apply heat protectant. If you have thick hair, separate your hair into two layers and do each individually. Don’t grab more than an inch of hair, and be careful not to burn yourself.

To use a round curling iron, use heat protectant. Alternate directions of curl or have all of them go the same way (inwards or outwards). Make sure all your hair is swept back over your shoulders, and resting on your back. As you make each curl, you should move them to the front of your shoulders to keep them separated from the rest of your hair. If you have long hair, you should be taking about one-inch sections and winding them around the curler neatly, without overlapping.

Never curl wet hair with a hot curler, as it’s extremely damaging to the hair. Next, split your hair into sections. Depending on how thick your hair is, you may need anywhere from 2 to 6 sections.  Leave a section of the hair down at a time, and pin the rest of it on top of your head. The shorter your hair, the bigger sections you can take. If you would like springier curls, leave it for 10-12 seconds. For more wavy or loose curls, leave it for 8 to 10 sections. These are just approximations, as everyone’s hair is different.

When braiding, split the hair into three sections, and put the left over the middle, pull tight, put the right over the middle, pull tight, put the left over the middle, pull tight, etc. until you can’t anymore.

To create a quick and easy bun, you will need 2 ponytail holders, a bobby pin, and a brush. Make one ponytail, and then grab your hair and twist it like a twister. Then, take the other ponytail holder and wrap it around the bun, and then clip the bobby pin in the middle. 

A simple style for thick hair is a half up, half down look. It’s achievable by putting half of the hair up in a ponytail, and leaving the rest down. If there are bangs, then leaving them down can give out cute vibes.

A simple style for curly or wavy hair is the up-under ponytail. All it consists of is picking up half of the hair, putting it up, and then making another ponytail under it. This makes the hair appear longer and fuller. Adding a bandanna or headband piece fancies the style up.

When blow drying your hair, add about a palm full of volumizing mousse and work this into the roots of your hair all over, and then bring it to the roots, scrunching it up as you go. Then, blow dry your hair upside down for more volume, continuously scrunching your ends to the roots as you blow dry.

Add a bit of hairspray to the roots while upside down to keep the volume you just created throughout the day. Try a tangle teaser for an easier brush and added shine. Finish with some hair oil to add shine and dimension to your hair.

For girls with straight hair who want wavy hair, shower, shampoo and condition as usual. Towel dry hair so that it is damp, and then put tt in a bun at the top of your head. Go to sleep and you should wake up with nice volume.

For girls with wavy frizzy hair. Keep a dehumidifier in your room, and keep it cold. Shower at least 2 hours prior to when you plan on sleeping so that your hair can be completely dry when you go to sleep.

Tips

Apply hairspray to keep the style in place. Everyone’s hair is different. Those with finer hair will probably need much more hairspray than those with coarser hair. If you have fine hair, you should spray each curl with hairspray right away.

Try to find a haircut that makes styling easy or avoid over-styling your hair.

Don't wash your hair too often. You are stripping your hairs oils so it replaces it again, faster. Instead wash your hair 3 times a week or so to keep your hair from becoming greasy. Many people claim that hair is easier to style when it hasn't been washed for a day.

Change your pillowcase often to prevent greasy hair.

Buy a silk pillow case to sleep on. This helps prevent frizz if you have curly hair.

If your hair is a bit greasy, you can try dry shampoo.

[team-council]

Title: It’s never getting titled

TW: Character Death, Lightly Grotesque descriptions of wounds, Possible Scuicidle Implications (I didn’t really mean to imply it like that, but I realize it can be read that way and will tag to be safe)

Description: Takes place directly after the council manages to quell the everblaze from book three. Bronte takes some healing salve to Oralie for her shoulder and reflects on Kenric’s death.

Notes: I would scincerely like to thank anyone who bullied me. I haven’t finished a fic in literally ever, meant a lot. This monstrosity is also not proofread and I am sleep deprived so I’m sure it’s absolute garbage near the end but just ignore that. Might clean it up and put it on ao3 later who knows.

An angry grey sky wept dry shudders of ash over each of the miserable, bowed figures that stumbled across the rolling fields stretching beyond and between the crystalline castles scattering Eternalia’s fading outline. The sun was nothing but a sunken stain on the sky, feathery gold light turned a sick shade of pewter as rising smoke choked the warmth from what of it still lingered beyond the horizon. The neon glare of Everblaze could no longer be seen melting crystal and dragging harsh lines of terror down the face of the distant city, but the air still smelled like burning sugar and dizzying sweetness.

With every ragged breath Bronte drew the saccharine sting of the now extinguished fire coated his tongue anew and prompted another fit of coughing to wrack his body. Though the soot that caked his face in thick, dark splotches had long dried his eyes, the muted sting of fresh burns sweltering along his cheeks and arms coaxed tears to blur his staggering vision. He’d long abandoned attempting anything resembling a graceful stride forward, allowing his feet to stumble over each other with every messy attempt he made to not hit the earth. Ignoring the trembling in his knees. Praying mutely that they might give way beneath him. That he might fall and never get have to get up. A fantasy of melding into the cool grass enticed his mind from the fervent protesting of his aching muscles. He imagined idly how the paled blades would curl at the corners of his mouth, cradle his hands and still the weary tremors that weighted his chest. Dazed, he was unable to keep from fancying what it would be to shatter into the dirt. To become ethereal and unknown, sunken beneath a tangled weaving of root where there would be naught to do but unlearn the world. To divorce sorrow and grief. To let the burdens of the many long centuries he’d endured go in passive dismissal.

His thoughts were interrupted as his foot caught the edge of something tough, and when at last he fell it was only to be met with the glassy, calloused embrace of faceted crystal. A dim, concerned muttering of multiple shrill voices hovered above his head, but as the councillor drew to his knees he found in clarity only the gaunt, drawn man staring back at him through the fuzz of a soot-drowned Amaranth stairway. Reminding him. Mocking him. To disappear was not a mercy he deserved.

“Councillor,”

Bronte was forced to respond when the stairs beneath his legs fell away from him, a large pair of hands having drug him up by the shoulders. Well, respond might have been a gracious word for the half-conscious grunt he managed to the goblin bearing his weight in their palms, his eyes not bothering to search the face of the guard, to know whether or not they held his weakness in contempt or pity. It didn’t matter. He couldn’t fathom caring. All that mattered was that there was no attempt to stop him from dragging his reluctant body up the steps, that no hand batted his away from the knob of the door, that the scanner reading the intricacies of his palm managed to make sense of his identity despite how fresh burns and ash might’ve tried and scrub it away. There was no triumph in the silent, inward sliding of the towering doors, no pleasant rush as frigid, bitter air swept the welts tapering down from his forehead. He hardly found himself capable of much but standing at the brink of the darkness that spilled forward into the until living room at his feet.

Lavish furniture sat steeped in shadows deep enough to sink under, curtains drawn to block the pitiful laces of grey-yellow light that might have struggled through had they been parted. Bronte’s own silhouette was absorbed effortlessly into the black, his whole body soon after as he mindlessly stepped forward, doors clicking shut at his back with an echo of finality.

The world was void of sound until the shake of a fragile breath bit the quiet in faint retaliation. Bronte followed the quivering whimper around the barest, ebon outline of a table, managing to discern only a tenebrous jumble of shapes wrapped up in the stifle of self imposed twilight. Whatever discomfort he might have felt at the still sightlessness, it was welcomed compared to the snap that brought light back into the chamber, cutting through the veil of blissful ignorance that had pardoned any necessity to look upon what it had charitably concealed. However selfish it might have seemed, for the smallest instant Bronte thought of turning the lights off again,

“Sit up,”

It felt wrong to speak- especially ask anything of Oralie. Her ringlets- dull and stringy- pulled down in thick tangled over her face as she rigidly drug her back up the arm of the lovesteat she’d curled into, blankets falling limp onto the floor with a meek thud. Bronte simply knelt atop them, his fingers trailing the pockets of his clock for the smooth outline of a familiar metallic tin. Oralie made no sound of pain or acknowledgement as he pulled down the sleeve of her shirt, revealing a thickly wound bandage fastened over her shoulder. The white color had turned yellow, and as the kneeling figure peeled back each layer the room- what of it he could smell above the saturated, sugary smoke bathing his clothes- began to scent of balms and puss, a littering of welts and shrunken skin having festered beneath the dressings. The case in his hands came open with yet another sound Bronte found himself too far away to register, his fingers diving numbly into the salve inside,

“It’s my fault,”

Came a sound like the shifting of a fault line. Bronte traced his fingers over the rim of the burn,

“I couldn’t do anything but watch,”

Cracking like stained glass. Bronte smoothed his thumb across a patch of withered, pink flesh,

“H-he moved so quick,”

He had been avoiding her eyes, her face. And still he found himself caught in both. Her soft features hollowed. Her warm eyes gutted, occupied only by vacancy. Ghosts of the nots. Of the would never bes,

“And I- I jus-just-“

And her anguish came again with vengeance. Came with strength she did not have to spare for tears she did not have to shed. How dare she think she had wept enough. How dare she think she couldn’t hurt any longer. With a long, godless wail it came back to her in waves, thin fingers gripping his shoulders as she curled forward, her whole frame shaking with the labor of forcing from her throat a cry like cracking ice. What little tears she could manage soaked through his cloak,

“And I j-us did no-nothing! I di-didn’t do anything! I jus-just le-let him go! I le-let him d-“

She had been doomed to fail the sentence from the very start, her broken declarations falling to senseless sobs and howls of pain as she rocked her forehead into his shoulder, re-adjusting her grip at his arms every so often as if letting go might send her physically spiraling into whatever pit of grief pulled at her mind, down somewhere she couldn’t be followed,

“It’s not your fault,”

Again. It felt wrong to tell her anything with certainty, even the truth,

“It’s not your fault,”

It came stronger this time. Still a whisper in her ear, but less like a mist and more like a fog,

“It’s not your fault,”

That’s right. It wasn’t her fault. It was his,

“You couldn’t have known,”

But he had.

“There wasn’t a way you could’ve known,”

He’d known everything. That the healing was dangerous. That he should’ve gone with them.

“You did everything right...”

It was his fault that they hadn’t listened,

“I promise,”

That Kenric hadn’t listened,

“You were everything he needed you to be,”

Why should he have? He had been impatient. Stubborn. Cruel. /Weak/.

“You’ve been so strong,”

For the past three years his judgement had been ruled by fear. Fear of a little girl,

“And so brave,”

And hatred. Hatred of species who’s betrayal’d dawned the advent of millenniums lifetimes ago,

“This could never have been your fault,”

Kenric was dead,

“It will never be your fault,”

Because he hadn’t been stronger,

“No matter what you might think,”

Because he hadn’t been wiser,

“Kenric wouldn’t want you to think that,”

Because he hadn’t been kinder.

“Ever,”

Her wailing had only gotten softer, grip having loosened the slightest bit. He couldn’t tell if anything he’d said had reached her or not. Had he even been speaking aloud to begin with? Had he even been loud enough for it to matter? He had to hope so. Their ilk was not meant to die, and thus not meant to grieve death. To mourn in earnest was not theirs. It never was. He knew too well how easily it would be for her to break beneath the weight of it. He could already feel himself webbing with cracks,

“I-I....”

She couldn’t protest beyond a dry heave, her shoulders raised for what felt like ever in a deep wrenching motion as Bronte clasped the fresh bandages over her newly dressed wounds. In the end, she merely fell into him, grabbing his shirt. His arms. His cloak. Anything she could to prove to herself she was still there with him. Every new hold she had on him felt like another clutch of guilt bearing at his knotted stomach. The morphine drip of shell shock had begun to fade and chip away. Clawed to pieces by the daggers of sharp mourning that broke his haze with every whimper Oralie managed into his shoulder. He knew even in the pathetic state he was in he couldn’t outrun his guilt forever. But he’d been hoping that he might for a bit longer. Selfish as it was,

“Oralie...”

He whispered after a moment. And was met with quiet. Quiet and trembling breaths. She’d become heavy against him, her grip gone slack, eyes finally falling to tearless rest. Good. He hadn’t been sure what he was going to say anyways. The lights echoed out again with another dry snapping sound and Bronte stood from the thicket of blankets at his ankles, propping Oralie’s head on a pillow before draping her in covers again, still hoping- desperately and undeservedly- that she had believed him.

He paced the length between his and Oralie’s office with more grace this time, aware now of what the lull to fall and fade and become nothing but memory was in truth.

Not escape from sorrow or grief, but from consequence.

Consequence for the person he’d become. For that he’d done to others... There would be no reckoning with Councillor Kenric. He was dead. No apologies or tears- though he would certainly be giving both in abundance regardless- would change that.

But Oralie wasn’t dead.

The rest of the council wasn’t dead.

Sophie wasn’t dead.

He wasn’t dead.

And to that end there were still plenty of consequences to face.

[marziyoudumbass]

Could I have a 2p!France x reader🥺🥺🥺🥺 I absolutely love him

pairings: 2p France x reader

synopsis: dinner time is always interesting with Franky, especially when it comes to cooking.

I chose to write a fluffy scenario w/ a hint of angst since you didn't specify. If you want something else I'd be happy to also write that! God I love 2p France.

        You always enjoyed cooking with François. It was most certainly always a good time, whether the event turned out more romantic or comical, you just enjoyed being with him.

        Franky was a bit different. He wasn't overly fond of cooking (no matter how good he was at it), but he accepted the suffering to be with you.

        François was... A tough cookie to crack. He was most certainly not the type to be in a relationship, he barely even was seen with the same girl twice. He drank and smoked and was mean. Maybe that's why you fell in love. Because you were young and wide-eyed and he was a heartthrob. Even with that tough exterior, scruffy 'beard', stringy hair, and inflection in his voice that was a tell-tale to his nicotine habits, he was still attractive.

        You were young and had the ideology, that "oh, I can change him!" mentality. You were naive, and anyone who watched you, a bunny, approach the big bad wolf knew you were doomed.

        But then you weren't. You succeeded like a main character in a fanfiction: you tamed the beast. Even be was surprised. A bright-eyed girl suddenly captivated him?

        He was not the type for love. He was nearly the personification of lust. He had a reputation, a following of girls he had used and disposed of, a severed connection from his heart. You were the one to ruin that for him, you crashed into his world, swooped him up, and stole his heart.

        And now here he was, in a penthouse apartmemt, cooking with you while some classic French music playing in the backround. The smell of reducing wine filled the kitchen as you twirled around, grabbing this and that while he chopped miscellaneous ingredients.

        Humming and swinging your hips at the stove, stirring the boiling-hot wine you glanced behind you. While you could only see his back you knew he was a different man than the one you first met.

        When you first saw him, though his shoulders broad, he had a hunch and seemed a bit skinny for his height. Now, his back was filled out with muscles and his arms beefy (to an extent). His pale sweater was rolled up to his elbows. His hair seemed nearly silky as it framed the back of his head, his bangs clipped up as half of his hair was in a small ponytail.

        Turning back to the stove you continued minding your buisiness. It startled you when two arms snaked around your waist, one reaching out to pour even more wine in the pot.

   "Franky!"

   "I 'ave to get my fix, mon cher." Even his voice was different. It wasn't so strained and rough, though it still held its original glory. He still sounded like he smoked 5 packs a day, but that was an improvement.

        You merely laughed in response, him kissing your neck.

   "I'm taking a smoke break." He announced, reluctantly letting you to as he headed towards the balcony. You continued cooking.

        As he stood on the balcony, hunched over the railing, François contemplated you. He loved you, no doubt. You helped him change, you got him away from the brothel lined streets he lived on, sweeping him to health and love. But he also couldn't help but feel that he was becoming him. You didn't know him, so it wasn't an attempt to make François like him, but still... 

        Even if it meant becoming the person he despised most, François would do anything to be with you.

        Flicking his half smoked cigarette off the balcony he once more entered the penthouse. You were in the dining room, just finishing up with setting the table for two. You smiled at him, he smiled back. The softness in his eyes was a sight to behold as he wrapped you up in his arms.

        You always enjoyed cooking with François. It was most certainly always a good time, whether the event turned out more romantic or comical, you just enjoyed being with him.