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kazoosensationsarah-blog · 5 years ago

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Babushka Legacy Challenge

Are you looking for a legacy challenge that’s fast-paced so you hopefully won’t get burned-out after 3 or 4 generations? Do you like having goals to achieve during your legacy? Do you enjoy ruining your sims’ lives? Have you been missing some quality challenges? Then this is the challenge to quench your challenge-wanting thirst!

Not sure what a babushka is? That’s okay because I’m about to tell you... A babushka is an old woman or grandmother in Poland and Russia. The Sims 4 isn’t set in Poland or Russia, but we’re still gonna use that term because it’s kinda fun and fresh.

“ThE RUleS”

The rules are kind of flexible, but some of them are for your own good so you should probably follow them.

It’s not required for your sims to complete aspirations and get to the top of their career ladder, but it is specified in some generations if they do need to complete it.

Keep the game on normal lifespan.

Only use money cheats for your first house by using freerealestate. Don’t cheat for money after that.

You don’t have to live in any specific places unless it is specified in the generation.

This is a fast-paced legacy, but it is still 10 generations, so you won’t finish too fast, but you will be able to keep going without getting bored.

Make sure that your game doesn’t become a game over. The sims age up early into elders, so make sure there is at least a teen or older in the household upon the elders’ death. Some generations have kids really late so just be wary!

If you play this challenge, please post it with the tag #babushkalegacy so I can see!

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This challenge was originally created in my brain randomly on a boring summer afternoon, so hopefully it’s not too CRAZY for all you sims lovers! :)

Generation One: The Sweet Babushka

You don’t know where your parents are (or even who they are), so you want to make sure that you’re there for your own kid...even if they were an accident....

Traits - Cheerful, Clumsy, Active

Career - Food Critic (Critic)

Aspiration - Super Parent

Hobbies - Guitar, Comedy

Goals/Rules -

Start as an adult or young adult and have an accidental pregnancy within the first 2 sim days

After 1 week (or less if you’re feeling spicy), age up to a babushka (elder)

Devote your elderly life to taking care of your kid(s)

Attempt mastering skills/aspiration/career (BUT it’s not necessary)

Generation Two: The Indecisive Babushka

You love your mom, but you need more friends than just your mom (even though you’ll probably die before your friends). You also have never liked the idea of commitment, so there’s that....

Traits - Noncommittal, Bookworm, Romantic

Career - Management (Business), Mixology (Culinary)

Aspiration - Friend of the World

Hobby - Mixology

Goals/Rules -

Move 5 times

Swap out a piece of furniture every Monday and Thursday

Have at least 7 good friends and 10 additional acquaintances

Break off a close friendship for basically no reason

Have at least 5 boyfriends/girlfriends throughout life

Age up after 10 days of young adult to a babushka

NEVER have a child, but adopt when you are an elder

Switch career as elder to the mixology career

Attempt mastering skills/aspiration (BUT it’s not necessary)

Generation Three: The Vengeful Babushka

You were a child once, but that doesn’t mean you like children. Weights and running are better things to focus your time and energy on (do you even lift bro?)

Traits - Self-assured, Hates Children, Cat Lover

Career - Bodybuilder (Athlete)

Aspiration - Painter Extraordinaire

Hobbies - Fitness, Furries (just kidding but you can if you want)

Goals/Rules -

Have a cat or a few

Get married to the first person you try romancing

Your spouse ends up having an affair on you and has a baby with that person

Gift them paintings to try to win back affection

Have a child with a random person off the street as revenge

Once the revenge baby is a teen, age up to a babushka

Marry the random you had the child with as an elder

Don’t involve yourself with the kid(s)/grandkid(s) until you are a ghost

Generation Four: The Possibly-Murderous Babushka

Your mom doesn’t love you, so it leaves a bad impact on you. You still will love your kids though because you are NOT a monster...

Traits - Mean, Hot-Headed, Erratic

Career - Villain (Secret Agent)

Aspiration - Public Enemy

Hobbies - Handiness, Mischief

Goals/Rules -

Marry/date a coworker

Have a child with a different coworker

Every child you want has to come from different coworkers

Age up to a babushka when the first child is a teen

Always help kids with their homework, except the genius sim (heir)

Have a high handiness to get out of... sticky situations

Keep mom’s gravestone on lot and allow her ghost to visit for the first week of young adulthood

Generation Five: The Wannabe Youtube Star Babushka

You wanted to be a YouTuber, so you dropped out of school even though you’re really smart and you have potential. Oh, also you move to LA....

Traits - Lazy, Genius, Childish

Career - Trendsetter (Style Influencer)

Aspiration - Mansion Baron

Hobbies - Programming, Video Gaming

Goals/Rules -

Move to Oasis Springs or Del Sol Valley as a young adult

Get engaged to another YouTuber, have a baby, then break off the marriage

After breaking off the marriage, age up to a babushka

Since YouTube isn’t reliable due to unexplainable demonetization, do some freelance programming for some side cash

Encourage heir to be active because you don’t want to do the chores

Generation Six: The Rap God(dess) DJ Babushka

Your mom was lazy and you hate that. You want to boogie-woogie and dancey-wancey and stealy-wealy until you die....

Traits - Dance Machine, Active, Kleptomaniac

Career - None (A Self-Employed Swiper)

Aspiration - Party Animal

Hobbies - Dancing, DJ Mixing, Wellness, Fitness

Goals/Rules -

Steal for money

Meet baby daddy/momma at the nightclub/karaoke bar

Teach your toddler(s) to bop to music

When your mom dies, get a $50,000 inheritance and blow the inheritance on a new house with a huge dance floor room (or just some really expensive violins and fridges that are $15k and $14k respectively)

When you receive the inheritance, age up to a babushka

Generation Seven: The Hippie Babushka

You realize that the party life of your parents was just not for you, so you decide to move to an isolated cabin (more like a quiet suburban neighborhood) because you love the environment and are NOT a stan of climate change...

Traits - Music Lover, Loves Outdoors, Vegetarian

Career - Musician (Entertainer)

Aspiration - Musical Genius

Hobbies - Piano/Keyboard, Herbalism

Goals/Rules -

Live in the city as a teen

Move to an eco-friendly tiny home as a young adult

Have a kazoo club where they play piano (we don’t have kazoos sadly), the club meets twice a week

Have 2 friends with the “Bro” trait

Leave a “slob” sim at the altar, and immediately following that, age up to a babushka, then date and eventually marry a “neat” sim

Go camping as a honeymoon

With the new neat relationship, adopt a pet and a child

Generation Eight: The Awkward Babushka

You’re a nice person and good at writing and meal preparation, you’re just not so good at making people fall in love with you...

Traits - Perfectionist, Unflirty, Foodie

Career - Author (Writer)

Aspiration - Master Chef

Hobbies - Baking, Cooking, Gourmet Cooking

Goals/Rules -

Live in Willow Creek for whole life

Accept every date you’re asked on

Adopt at least 2 kids before becoming an elder

Complete your aspiration (Master Chef), once doing so age up to a babushka

Find “The One” as an elder

Die tragically (perhaps of embarrassment from PDA? Be creative!)

Generation Nine: The Boujee Babushka

You always knew you were a star, but you just have to prove it to everyone else by becoming rich and famous. You are really... confident to say the least...

Traits - Geek, Snob, Self-Absorbed

Career - eSport Gamer (Tech Guru)

Aspiration - World-Famous Celebrity

Hobbies - Pipe Organ, Singing, Video Gaming

Goals/Rules -

Master eSport Gamer career

Become a celebrity

Have a few scandals (IDEAS - out-of-wedlock babies, affairs, celeb drama and catfights, cheating in a game tournament)

Scare off first 5 romantic relationships

End up dating/marrying a sim with one or more of the same traits as you

Age up to a babushka when your first child becomes a teen, or naturally if that’s sooner

Generation Ten: The Try-Hard Babushka

You’re good at basically everything you try. Your parents paid for your med school because you’re so talented. Failure is seemingly nowhere in sight, unless...

Traits - Outgoing, Glutton, Materialistic

Career - Doctor (Get to Work)

Aspiration - Soulmate

Hobbies - Rocket Science, Pet Training, literally anything else

Goals/Rules -

Doesn’t really try in their career but still gets promoted

Wants to be a scientist but doesn’t want to disappoint parents

Fall in love with a scientist

No kids allowed until you reach Rocket Science level 6

Age up to a babushka when you master the Rocket Science skill

Be really talented and master 4 skills, with at least level 6 in 3 more skills

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This challenge took a really long time to make and I’m happy to let other people try it out now. Have fun!

#ts4 #the sims 4 #sims 4 legacy #legacy challenge #quick legacy #babushka legacy #babushka #babushkalegacy

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theunfinishedsong-nct · 5 years ago

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Chapter 1

“Kitchen, all out! No more pending orders!”

A sense of relief was felt within the four walls of our kitchen upon hearing those words.

“Lee Taeyong… Play your emo playlist!”

“I’m on it, hyung!”

I did not hesitate to grant the request of our sous chef, Doh Kyungsoo. He has spent five hours leading the closing shift tonight. He is in charge of calling, or rather, announcing all of the incoming orders, making sure that the line cooks are doing the correct sequencing, and of course, checking the quality of each food before finally dispatching it to the dining staff. He is five years older than me, but in terms of tenure, he is only almost a year ahead of me. He doesn’t mind me calling him “hyung” since he doesn’t require me to call him “sunbaenim”, at least, not yet.

As for me, I’m currently assigned to the pantry station until Sunday. I may be handling ready-to-eat food, but pantry duty is not a piece of cake, especially during the weekend. I’m responsible for preparing our appetizers, salads, and sandwiches – most of these have to be made upon order so they could be served fresh. And that also means I have to be ahead of the line cooks – they’re the ones responsible for the main courses. Of course, appetizers and salads need to be served and consumed first.

I quickly took off the vinyl gloves from both of my hands, soiled from the battle of tonight’s dinner rush – today is payday Friday, to be more specific. I approached the kitchen sink and disposed the oily gloves into the garbage bin underneath it. I made sure to wash my hands before taking my mobile phone out of the plastic drawer underneath Kyungsoo hyung’s worktop station – we are required to surrender our phones while we’re on duty. However, we have a small Bluetooth speaker where anyone is allowed to play any kind of music they like, as long as it’s not loud enough to be heard by the guests outside. So, with Kyungsoo hyung’s blessing, I excitedly opened my Spotify app to play my own, curated, old school pop punk playlist.

“Any request, hyung?”

“Nah, just put it on shuffle.”

I pressed “Shuffle Play” and “Stolen” by Dashboard Confessional came up.

I almost didn’t notice the time right before turning my screen off – it’s already 9:06 PM, and I realized that we only have less than an hour left before we have our last call.

The various sounds of our guests’ chitchatting echoed through the small window of the kitchen – also known as the barker and dispatch area, also known as Kyungsoo hyung’s station. Thumping sounds of footsteps on wooden floors became more dominant than the jazzy, ambient music of the dining area. Our café looks cozy and homey, like how you would imagine the interior of a countryside cottage from an old Disney fairytale. We’ve got some rustic-looking white patio chairs and tables, with fresh, vibrant flowers as the table centerpieces; pale yellow-white Christmas lights widely hung across the glass windows, for that festive effect; and there are several realistic-looking birds painted on the pastel yellow walls.

The night is still very much alive – Christmas time is almost around the corner, which means most people are already doing their Christmas shopping. For us kitchen workers, we don’t really get a lot of time to shop, despite being located within the heart of the busy Myeong-dong shopping district – definitely impossible when you’ve been given the closing shift for the whole week.

We’ve just finished dispatching the orders of the latest table, and since our dining capacity is already full, most of our current guests are still in the middle of finishing their meals. However, I can already hear the next wave of incoming guests from here. Thankfully, they still have to be waitlisted, so we’ve got a few more minutes to clean up and take a breather.

“Good evening, Ma’am! Good evening, Sir!”

“…This way, please!”

“Welcome to Caffè di Maria!”

Our establishment is actually named after our owner – a Korean woman, surprisingly. Her real name is Lee Myeon-Ji, and she’s not your average ahjumma – seven years ago, she adapted the English name Maria when she stayed in the United States to send her youngest and only daughter to culinary school, so they could develop their own recipes. She wanted to open a Western-inspired restaurant with a Korean touch, so Caffè di Maria was born with the help of her businessman husband. They currently have a total of four restaurants operating within Seoul.

Most of our branches are quite far from each other, but there is still a chance for each employee to get deployed to a different branch from time to time. Sometimes, it’s for career growth.

I’m going to celebrate my second year in the company by the end of May next year. I was fresh out of culinary school when I got here. I was a bit clueless and a bit too immature back then – I was only twenty years old when I became a trainee. But I do believe I’ve slowly matured over the years – after all, I have to act more matured and wise, since it won’t be long until I become a kitchen coach once I reach my second year. I’d still be a chef de partie, just like my current title – but here in our place, that’s a big step towards a promotion. Who knows, I might become a sous chef by the end of next year, or by the start of the year after that. The idea of getting deployed to another branch kind of freaks me out, but I have my goals. Nothing’s wrong with that, right? I just need to focus on working hard as much as possible… Without any distractions.

#nct #nct127 #taeyong #jaehyun #lee taeyong #jung jaehyun #jeong jaehyun #jung yoonoh #jeong yoo #jeong yoonoh #fanfic #nct fanfic #nct127 fanfic #nct 127 fanfic #nct fanfiction #nct127 fanfiction #nct 127 #nct 127 fanfiction #jaeyong

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omegaling · 8 years ago

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Allez Cuisine! ~Chapter Six

Allez Cuisine! Chapter Six: Smoke and Tomatoes

Rating: Mild M

Warnings: Mentioned sexual actives

Chapter Six: Smoke and Tomatoes (read it on AO3 here)

“Team Dameron, you have five minutes to get on set before we start rolling!”

Rey pounded on the door of the men’s bathroom again. “Did you hear that, Finn? We have to get out there, now!”

The lock on the door clacked open and Finn finally emerged, his dark skin ashen and blotchy. “I don’t know if I can even look at food right now, much less cook anything.” he grumbled, his voice raw from spending the better part of the last hour bowed over a toilet bowl.

“You can, and you will,” Rey said firmly as she passed him a few water crackers and a bottle of water so he could cleanse his palate. “Poe’s counting on us. Besides, you’re acting like we’re being shipped off to the beaches of Normandy or something. Time limit aside, we’re not doing anything different today than we do every single night.”

“You say that now,” Finn huffed, popping all three crackers in his mouth and then downing half the bottle in a single go. “This is going to be both the shortest and longest hour of our lives.”

“We’ll be fine, Finn,” Rey said with a tone of finality. “Poe wouldn’t have accepted the challenge if he didn’t think we didn’t have a chance of winning. We’re going to slap Kylo Ren so hard up the side of his arrogant head he’ll be walking backwards for a week.”

That was the biggest difference between them, Rey supposed. Finn had the tendency to picture all the possible outcomes at once, often catastrophizing them and putting those at the forefront of his mind, whereas Rey focused on a single goal and set out to achieve it at any cost. Besides, there was no going back at this point. They were here, ready to defend Leia Organa’s reputation and to show that they weren’t about to let some crusty old man intimidate them, damn this wealth or his connections. That was their goal; everything else was of non-consequence.

Poe wasted no time in getting them prepared after he made the announcement. The day after he told them they were going on the show, he wrote rough draft menus for each of the potential secret theme ingredients they could be given, then the three of them ruthlessly practiced each dish every night over the course of the next week leading up to the day of the competition. Sometimes they stayed at BB8 until three or four in the morning before Poe was satisfied with their final products.

“When we’re out there, timing is everything. Mere seconds can make all the difference in the world,” Poe said during one of their first practice sessions, making Rey make her sofrito base all over again because she waited too long to apply it to the next step of her dish she was in charge of. At times Rey thought he was being just as dramatic as Finn was being now, but she kept her comments to herself and did as she was told.

However…

She would be a fool to think that they didn’t have their work cut out for them. During the little free time she had to spare, Rey had looked up everything she could find online about Kylo Ren to get an idea of what they would be up against.

His restaurant, Vader, was rated one of the top ten in New York City and one of the top fifty in the world for the past seven years. At first, she wasn’t impressed. Compared to BB8’s warm, inviting interior, Ren’s choice of interior decoration was stark and harsh to the point of being unwelcoming, all black and chrome and metal chairs and starched tablecloths. It was all incredibly pretentious, but Rey couldn’t summon the disdain she knew she should have felt toward him. Not after seeing photographs of his food, in any case.

Rey didn’t want to admit it out loud, but Ren definitely deserved every iota of praise his food and culinary style earned him. While his dining area was cold and devoid of emotion, his food was vibrantly, almost violently colorful by comparison. She was also beginning to understand why people kept using a specific set of adjectives to describe it. Sexy, provocative, and erotic were just a few that particularly stood out in her mind, especially when she looked at the foods that inspired such lavish descriptions. Juices seeped from cuts of beautifully marbled, perfectly seared wagyu rib eye steaks, the meat looking ready to melt under the touch of a fork. Edges of freshly shucked oysters curled around plump pillows of glazed foie gras. Ren’s salads reminded her of miniature gardens, and multi-colored pastas swam in thick, rich sauces. Pink, butter-poached fish fillets lay atop beds of jewel-bright vegetables, and almost everything seemed to be garnished with glistening piles of caviar or a snow of shaved white truffles. Ren’s desserts looked like they should be hanging in the National Gallery, not set out on a dining table, the sorbets and glazes on cakes and drizzles as bright as swatches of paint. Rey couldn’t describe it, but there was definitely something tantalizing about his food and the way it was laid out on the plates, almost as if each dish promised more sordid affairs following their consumption.

Then, in what ended up being a major lapse of judgement, Rey searched for images of the man himself.

Kylo Ren looked exactly as he did from when she first saw him two years ago: the same intense gaze, the inky black hair that curled tantalizingly around his ears and at the nape of his neck, the wrong-but-oh-so-right proportions of his facial features. She could still remember the way her heart lurched against her ribs when he turned those eyes on her, the way her body hummed for hours afterwards and could only be soothed by her fingers between her legs. Afterwards she felt awash with shame that a man who was so clearly despised by her friends could invoke such a reaction from her. Fortunately, she became so obsessed with her new line of work that she didn’t have a lot of time to spare thinking about him.

Unfortunately, looking at the pictures of him brought that deeply-buried memory back. What was even worse was that the feelings it brought with them were even worse than before, because now she was envisioning those impossibly large, long-fingered hands wielding a chef’s knife to slice through plump, juicy tomatoes, laying strips of meat into a pan to be seared in melted butter, or fluffing emulsified foam into frothy perfection. Then her treacherous mind started to wander into uncharted waters, leading her to wonder what else those hands were good at. If they could turn food into fine art, then what could they do to someone lay stretched out on a bed beneath him, completely at their mercy…

The fantasies got so bad that Rey snapped the top of her laptop closed and immediately took a shower, trying to convince herself that it had nothing to do with the dampness in her underwear. She was not a religious person, but she prayed all things holy that the feelings Ren invoked her would not interfere with her performance once they were out there. If Poe lost because she was lusting after his rival she’d have to hang herself by her apron strings. That is, if she didn’t outright die of embarassment first.

The floor manager ushered Rey and Finn into the studio and directed them to where they needed to stand and wait for the battle to commence. Kitchen Stadium was like BB8’s kitchen on steroids, and she took that time before the filming started to reorient herself with its layout. Rey’s station was situated next to Poe’s so she could assist him with the savory dishes while Finn focused on desserts in the back. She visually mapped out where all the major kitchen equipments was in relation to where she would be working - the stove tops and ovens, the deep fryer, the location of every pot, pan, tool, and small appliance at their disposal - to alleviate any unnecessary scrambling and wasted time. As soon as the floor manager left her and Finn along Rey slid her rolled tool canvas into a small cubby beneath her cutting board, where it would be both out of the way and easily accessible. She wasn’t planning on using them, but even after dropping out of school two years ago Rey discovered that she wasn’t able to go anywhere without her tools in tow. It felt too much like abandoning a group of old, loyal friends. If nothing else, their presence would help keep her grounded if things started to get too heated.

“Well, well. Finn Trooper. What a surprise.”

Rey and Finn turned simultaneously toward the source of the accented voice. A man and a woman who could only be Ren’s sous chefs were now standing on his side of the stadium. For those first few second Rey’s attention was fully arrested by the woman, whose short, platinum-blonde hair, smokey eyes and towering height made Rey think of the Valkyrie warriors from Norse mythology. The ginger-haired man standing beside her was the least intimidating member of the opposite team, but there was something about him that Rey immediately didn’t like. While Kylo Ren reminded her of an apex predator, there was something about this man that made him seem much more sinister and dangerous, like a viper waiting in the grass for the perfect opportunity the strike.

“Hux,” Finn said in return, his voice as rigid as his posture had gone.

“I wondered what became of you after you abandoned your post at Finalizer. And so soon after Snoke recommended you for a James Beard Foundation nomination? Such ingratitude. We were all certain you’d never set foot in a professional kitchen again, Then again, I shouldn’t be surprised that someone like Dameron took you under his wing.”

Finn took a stomping step in the other man’s direction, but Rey put a hand on his chest to stop him. The motion was not lost on Hux; his ice-cold eyes turned on Rey, cocking one ginger eyebrow in lazy interest. “And you are…?”

“I’m Rey,” she said, holding his glare defiantly.

“And what are your credentials, Rey?” He said her name like he didn’t like the way it felt in his mouth. “Schooling? Previous employers and internships? Awards and recognitions?”

“I’ve been with BB8 for the last two years, if that’s what you’re looking for.”

“And before that?”

“I was an engineering major at NYU.”

Hux narrowed his eyes, and Rey felt her hackles rise in response. “What’s your usual station?”

Finn placed a hand on Rey’s arm and hissed something about Hux goading her, but she lifted her chin up and said, “I’m Poe’s prep cook.”

The blonde woman’s eyebrows shot towards her hairline. Hux openly sneered at them. “Is that really the best Dameron could come up with? A disgraced pastry chef and a girl who’s only a step up from a dish washer to help him? What does his think he’s playing at?”

“He probably wants to prove that intimidation can only get you so far when you’re up against real talent,” Rey shot back, taking Finn firmly by the elbow and steering him back to their side.

“Asshole. Who the hell does he think he is?” Rey hissed, pulling a honing steel from a wooden block set and running it across the edge of her knife. She had honed her knife last night before she went to bed, and then again before they left for the studio that morning, but she was in desperate need to give her hands something to do before she rushed back to the other side of the kitchen and wrung that skinny creep’s neck.

“That would be Armitage Hux, owner and executive chef of Finalizer on Carnegie Hill,” Finn explained. “He’s the new hot shit when it comes to molecular gastronomy in the U.S., right up there with Grant Achatz and Homaro Cantu. He’s also the most pretentious bastard you’ll ever meet. He actually requires diners to complete an application before he’ll approve their reservation because he doesn’t want to waste his food on people who won’t fully appreciate it. And yet his wait list is still eighteen months out. I just don’t get it.”

“Jesus. No wonder why you got out of there.”

Finn flinched. “It doesn’t…bother you knowing that I worked for Snoke before Poe picked me up?”

“Not unless you’re really a double agent who’s been biding your time for a chance to sabotage our boss.”

That got a laugh out of him. “Nah. I was young and overeager when I got out of the CIA and agreed to Snoke’s terms before I knew what was getting into. It only took me about a month before I regretted it. Hux is right about one thing; had it not been for Poe, the only restaurants I could hope to work at again were places like Applebee’s and TGI Friday’s, so I kind of owe my continuing career to him. Also the fact he’s my boyfriend makes double-crossing him a little awkward.”

“Just a smidge,” Rey agreed, replacing the honing knife in the block. “And her?”

“That’s Phasma. Don’t ask me if she has any other names. If she does, I’ve never heard it, and I think people are too afraid to ask her outright. To my knowledge she’s only ever been a sous for other chefs, but she runs a kitchen with military precision. There was a rumor flying around a few years ago that broke a supplyer’s arm who tried to cheat her out on a fish delivery. I don’t think anyone’s confirmed it, but I wouldn’t doubt it for a second. I’ve seen her cleave a side of beef with a single chop once, so I’d stay out of her way just as much as Ren and Hux.”

“Duly noted,” Rey said grimly, wondering for the first time what exactly Poe had gotten them all into.

“Quiet on the set!” the floor manager barked. The lights immediately dimmed, throwing everything except the center aisle into darkness. Stage fog billowed across the floor and the camera crew and boom operators moved into position. Bright spotlights swiveled toward the door at the back of the set where Poe would make his entrance. Mark Dacascos - better knows as the infamous Chairman - had already taken his place at the end of the aisle, and Rey caught sight of Alton Brown and Kevin Brauch moving in the dim light at the far ends of Kitchen Stadium. The director called out a few orders, and the filming of the episode began.

It all felt a bit ridiculous, if Rey was going to be perfectly honest. Without the music, editing and other post-production TV magic she felt like she was part of a dress rehearsal for a school play. Poe was cued to make his entrance, and after a brief exchange of clever words, the host and the chef strode to the front of the set where the Altar of the Secret Ingredient awaited them.

As did Kylo Ren.

Rey didn’t even seen him come onto the set, but there he was all the same, his black hair and chef’s jacket creating a void of darkness beside the altar. Then the studio lights were thrown on again, revealing Ren in all his dark, imposing glory. Fuck, he was massive. Cooking skills aside, it was little wonder why other chefs - or anyone else - was so afraid of him.

Poe took his place opposite Ren in front of the show’s trademark Altar of the Secret Ingredient. The whole studio seemed to become instantly saturated with tension, giving Rey the foreboding mental image of sharks being drawn to blood in the water. The two chef exchanged brief glances, but Poe only smirked at Ren’s glower. Ren’s full mouth suddenly seemed much less appealing to Rey, given that it did nothing but sit in a hard, straight line and occasionally sneer at other people.

The Chairman delivered another set of lines, then revealed the secret ingredient with a flourish.

Shit, Rey thought as her stomach dropped. They went with the aphrodisiacs.

Technically, the variation of food they got to work with would make the battle easier since they had more choices of ingredients to work with rather than having to stretch out only one over five courses. The meal that Poe planned for this particular battle was extremely solid and would showcase his style, his skill, and his mastery of techniques. However, no amount of confidence on their part could overshadow the glaring fact that this was still Ren’s specialty; the man made his whole career on creating food that made people moan and pant for more. They were on his home field in more ways than one, and the odds of coming out of this on top were getting smaller all the time. Next to her, Finn looked like he wanted to do nothing more than run back to the bathroom. Rey took his hand and gave it a squeeze. Come hell or high water, they were all in this together.

A smattering of banter was exchanged between Poe and Ren, swift and biting, aimed to agitate the other before the Chairman cut them off. Rey felt a small swell of pride for Poe for not quailing under Ren’s withering gaze; her boss still looked as cool and collected as she’d even known him to be.

Finally, the Chairman looked directly into the camera lenses to deliver his infamous lines: “So now, America. With an open heart, and an empty stomach, I say unto you in the words of my uncle: Allez cuisine!”

They were off like runners at the crack of a starting pistol. Rey sprinted to the altar to take the avocados and chilis Poe handed off to her before going back for more of the secret ingredients. Finn gathered vegetables, dairy, and other basic ingredients from the pantry and refrigerators, turning on stoves and burners as he went.

“Talk to me, Rey. What’s the plan?” Poe called out as he arranged the first of his ingredients at his station.

“Prep the smoker for the tomatoes for the cocktail sauce,” Rey responded even as she loaded the smoking pan with a combination of oak chips and dried seaweed. “Peel and boil the potatoes for the third course. Don’t start on the hollandaise until the final fifteen.”

“Excellent. How about you, Finn?”

“I’m on the flan and the cake. After those are going I’ll start on the ice cream.”

“Beautiful, beautiful!” Poe said jovially. “Alright, guys, let’s do this thing! Give it everything you got!”

Rey lay out some gorgeous gold and red heirloom tomatoes on her cutting board and began to slice away at them as she waited for her wood chips to start smoking. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Ren converging with his own sous chefs on his side of the stadium. Ren was moving aggravatingly slow compared to their hustle, he casualness mocking the seriousness in which Poe took the challenge. Good, she thought. The more reasons she had to not be attracted to him, the better.

Hux said one more thing to Ren before breaking away to his station. Rey had a good suspicion of what it was, because an instant later Ren’s head whipped around to look directly at her.

Rey averted her eyes quickly, hoping he didn’t see the way her skin flushed around her neck. So what if she only had two years experience? The rules didn’t stipulate that a sous chef needed so many years working in a professional kitchen to participate in the battle. Poe knew she was good enough, and evidently that was good enough for the producers. Besides, growing up in the foster system had pre-conditioned her to know how to deal with people’s low expectations and judgemental glares. Just because Ren and his sous were hot-shot, world-class chefs wasn’t going to change that.

Better watch out, Kitchen Prince, Rey thought fiercely as she placed her tomatoes over the smouldering wood chips. We’re going to knock that crown right off your head and watch it melt in the flames.

#reylo #reylo fanfiction #reylo chef au #reylo iron chef au #iron chef america au #allez cuisine!#omegaling writes

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oceaniapassport-blog · 7 years ago

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The Many Women of Many Indias.

Exploring India as a female solo. A cautionary tale that invites challenges, sacrifices and serious balls!

Abroad Alone

All zipped up and strapped in, I feel the weight of my 19kg backpack sitting neatly on my hips as I await the long journey to Delhi ahead of me. With my mum unconvinced by my detailed itinerary and multiple friends’ raised eyebrows, I board my flight to uncover the diverse and ever evolving many places and spaces of India.

A journey through India is impossible to summarise. My first destination of many being New Delhi; home to over 21.7 million people and taking first place as the worst city to be a woman. With zero expectations but my prior research, I quickly came to learn the larger differences between city-bred foreign girl and local Indian women of the same age. Lost in a sea of chaotic crowds, I am quickly collected by a unimpressionable docile woman who I soon become passenger to en-route to my accommodation. ‘Taxi’s for women by women’. My first encounter of India’s efforts to make their country a safer, more secure and inviting places for female travellers. Unsurprisingly, I was immediately put to ease, however my curiosity to engage with local women invited a conversation I will never forget. Nega is a woman who drives women to their destination everyday. She is one of the rare few who now no longer fears leaving the house with her employment giving her a newfound sense of independence.

Curtseying through a heated traffic jam, Nega told of her previous experience with India’s transport services which are said to favour female safety with train compartments reserved specifically for female passengers. That apart, she relented that a woman can never fully relax on the roads, buses or trains once out of the house. With an average of 91 rape victims per day, it is no surprise “vigilance, precautions and always looking out for unwanted attention is a normal part of everyday life here in India”. Nega’s words didn’t simply apply to local women; they would be a mantra I followed closely throughout the course of my adventure.

Solo Woman Shelter

A solo exploration is nothing without unexpected chance conversation. At a stand still trying to contemplate how one crosses the heavily populated streets in front of me, I am inundated with the smell of burnt buttered chapati bread as stale oils glaze the gravel ridden road and the deafening sound of horns form a blur. Perspiring from my cracked upper lip, I can’t help but grapple with the uneasy feeling that I should be inside, away from the hustle, hassle and exhausting unknown that awaits me. How? In a country that prices itself so heavily on being the world’s largest democracy does a white woman become the primary subject of attention over holy temples, monuments and ancient artefacts that grace this place. Seeking shelter, I wound up a local cafe called ‘Sheroes Hangout’, Agra. With a ‘pay at your will’ model, this easily hidden nook stands for a great deal more than the flavourful okra, dahl and roti bread it plates up.

The women who served me have all fought a battle of survival after a life changing alteration to their appearance. Acid attack survival is only the beginning of the larger social and societal change these women are determined to cultivate. With it’s sole purpose to empower acid attack victims; the courage, intelligence and resilience of these women is nothing short of an inspiration. By now, I have come to learn the value of female community and employment opportunity that this organisation has managed to manifest. “Previously I was sifting wheat crop in a field and I was ostracised to the outskirts of my hometown because of my appearance.” As I nurse my rotund stomach into a state of indigestion, I muse on the very real fact that large parts of India remain predominately patriarchal and yet despite the indescribable battle these women have already fought, they continue to fight a larger war. This war being one that is facilitating a slow but steady mindset shift for gender equality and acceptance in India. I am immensely proud in this moment to be a female.

Lost and found: Intelligence

Like a deer in the headlights, I watch the dirty ceiling fan make a slow and swooping cycle as it shifts the already unrelenting hot air around my room. Now in Tordi Garg, a small village, 3 and little hours from Jaipur, away from the golden triangle of illustrious sights, I experience what it really feels to live local in India. With an obligatory cast system etiquette and a population where most live below the poverty line, I am greeted with welcoming waves, smiles and conversation as I begin to tackle the uneven alleyways before me. Soaking in my surroundings, I admire the innovative drainage system operations while grey pigeons circulate the streets in search of left over grains fed to ever wandering cow that roams. It is next to said cow, that I meet Dabu, a wide cheeked and exuberantly energetic boy, backpack in hand on his morning walk to school. Dabu was proud to talk on the Indian school system in his town and the active assistance his government provides.

No older than seven, Dabu told me life as a boy at school is fairly fun, “in my class, we have the same number of girls and boys, the government makes sure both girls and boys come and learn.” I proceeded to learn that the Indian government takes little more seriously than a good education to all it’s citizens. With laws that ensure a school is located within 5km from every Indian rural village and that those living below the poverty line have access to transport and culinary services whilst to and fro from school, I am pleasantly surprised to learn the value of education in India regardless of ones gender or financial position. With a school system governed on performance over age, it is no surprise that India forms some of the most intelligent, innovative and disciplined individuals both on a national and International scale. “We are incentivised with a bike we can ride to school if we perform well in class, so the girls are often very competitive with the boys, it’s very fun!”

While I struggled to understand where the shift in equal employment opportunity begins as adults, I remain impressed by India’s ‘work from the ground up’ approach, teaching boys and girls the value of education from an early age; irrespective if that education leads to work in local trade or international business. Like many visitors to the villages of India before me, I am in awe of the simple way of life that make up the maze of streets in Tordi, and I choose to remain hopeful that with a respectable education structure, simple towns such as Tordi, will continue to foster smart and stronger women who will continue to fight for their right to employment they have equally earned.

One night, One club

As my tuck tuck rolls up to what resembles a cave fit for a pack of lions, I observe the baron night scape that surrounds and momentarily question what I’ve gotten myself into and how in the world I will ever get home. With free entry and drinks all night, not surprisingly I already have my hesitations when it comes to the sanctity of the establishment for females. Oh how wrong I was! While the human size fan that circles the ceiling creates unintentional vibrations below my feet and deafening EDM music fills the room, I quickly seek solace outside at the bar and subsequently wind up in conversation with the owner of the club. A confident and outspoken she-man herself, I quickly learnt her focus in opening her own club. “My passion was to create a safe and equally fun clubbing environment for females.” With rules such as: No men allowed in the facility without the accompaniment of their girlfriend or partner and further single men entry age restrictions, “the number of inappropriate incidents has drastically reduced.” “I saw so many women leaving the clubs crying or uncomfortable from their time; it should be fun y’know, happy and relaxed, yes, that’s my goal.”

With enough room to perform my uncoordinated attempt at dancing and not one unwanted call of attention or further action, my guard dropped and it was a female free for all; with some truely lifelong friends made. One of the most liberating experiences as a female, I couldn’t but make comparison to other parts of the world. Of course, in no way am I saying that my clubbing experience was exclusive to the entirety of India, that would simply be false. However, it did give me a glimpse of hope that such places are popping up to pave the way forward for women in India, both as a local and visitor. This unique and bizarre experience is something I take with me home and should be shared in an effort to establish a new normal towards Indian expectations for future travellers.

Indian is hard. It is not an easy place to live, commute, or visit. India is enthralling, overwhelming. Never will you feel so many different emotions in one day. From amazement, to exasperation, to satisfaction, to frustration, it is a complex beast. If you’re going to go, which you absolutely should, my recommendation is simply to do your research. Nothing about Indian travel is easy. It is a cluster of mixed emotions, experiences and if you know what to expect and you are looking to throw yourself into a completely different way of life, then this is the place for you. Don’t expect it to be fun, because that is simply not a term you can use for the many cities and villages of India. However, do expect the most colourful, historically inviting, challenging and rewarding experience of a lifetime.

#travel #photography #travelarticles

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krissysbookshelf · 7 years ago

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Dotty and the Chimney Thief by Emma Warner-Reed: Feisty young Welsh girl, Dotty Parsons, finds herself in a bit of a fix in this second book of The Dotty Series. There’s a rogue chimney sweep on the loose – and he’s stealing people’s chimneys! Not only that, one of Dotty’s best friends from home has gone missing, and Dotty suspects foul play.