#Te Hue Bay

[trucenz]

RAIN AGAIN - BAY OF ISLANDS

[jolalibrary]

v. if you cling on, i will too

joel miller x f!reader | chapter five of honey stained hands

chapter summary: things take time to heal, but will you be the same you when you do?

wordcount: 3.5k warnings: typical canon-angst/grief. angst. injury/comfort recovery. joel calls reader honey (because she bakes). smutty? this pair are together but won't admit it. mentions of joels attempt on himself but minimal, lots of healing angst. but it's me so the ending is... nice. an: we should all thank je te laisserai des mots for the final chapter to this series! and also @thetriumphantpanda who i said "hey, can i ask a favour" and then dumped this on her without her prior knowledge.

The grip of winter slowly loosens, the world beginning to thaw as your wounds heal.

Green begins protruding where there had only been white, shooting up hope, a silent promise of renewal etched into every bud and leaf.

Joel supposes the promise came true.

By the time the first flowers emerge in a riot of colours, their vibrant hues a stark contrast against the lingering remnants of frost, he’d asked if you wished to move in. To have your things more officially with his. Less a cluster of things you’d “take back the next time you do” and more a permanent place for them to collect.

Saves you havin’ to walk back and forth.

Joel is thankful you smiled at the kitchen table and said yes.

Because it had been convenient, easy, to have you here with him when the two of you had arrived back. When your wounds were scarlet and tacky, bruises convulsing and growing under your skin until it made you hiss and whine at each movement. Then, there were the bones you feigned weren’t broken, in the same way you pretended your soul wasn’t fragmented.

Then, there was the simple fact you could barely dismount from your horse as a worried crowd approached, news of your missing nature now resolved.

You clung to him as you shied away from questionable eyes and paused glances. Horror sketched into the faces, blanketing over earlier panic—faces that had only shown you prior kindness. Because the monster you kept at bay until you were outside of the walls, was tired, depleted and very much on parade as Joel helped you down from the horse and the others, who had come to help retrieve them both, stood back to let the audience gawk.

If it stung, you never showed it. Holding him tight, gripping. Using all of your left strength to remain upright and desperately rooted to him.

You are stubborn in that way, and in the way you tipped up your chin, daring them to see what had been inflicted for the sake of their survival.

Good girl he had almost whispered into your ear.

He saved whispering that for over a week when you’d clung different to him, when your eye was no longer swollen shut and you begged to feel him—feel something other than hands that weren’t his.

Those two words ran from his tongue like they’d been swallowed back for too long. Pressing to your skin wherever possible, attempting to heal what he couldn’t understand, see or feel.

Things flower in the spring. The sun rises and lingers for longer before darkness crests over the world briefly.

Flowers shift towards the sunlight, laughter runs along the streets; coats are hidden away, with thinner layers covering bodies and trade shifts from boots to things that are easier to enjoy the warmer weather in.

You don’t bloom though.

Something altered in you, forever cracked. A thing that kept you from sleeping and dreaming when your wounds looked angry and raw; the cracks not healing, even incorrectly, when your skin stitched itself together.

It doesn’t ease when you stop hissing as you descend the stairs, when you’re able to walk for longer than a minute before pausing for a break. It only appears to lessen when you visit the bees. You avoid the other animals, though. Weighing it up, acknowledging with your head bowed that the strength isn’t there. Apologising in heavy whispers to Maria, to yourself, to the air and the cold and the breeze.

He waits for you to bake, to begin rolling things in a bowl and allowing the house to smell like yours used to. It doesn’t come. Not even when he returns from patrol and finds you in a similar state to when he left you.

Your monster is more than wounded, so close to dead that he struggles to work out how to heal it.

Joel doesn’t ask, and you don’t tell.

He could assume, formulate a story; he could create the pieces of the puzzle that were missing.

Instead, he leaves it alone. Rather wishing to live with the unknown than what he feels he’d have to pry from your clenched fists.

“You tried talkin’ to her brother?”

“Nothin’ to talk about.”

Because Tommy doesn’t know that the forest and cabin know all the secrets, the rest withered and shaved down inside of you. Doesn’t understand what it is that remains in a person who temporarily hangs between the living and the dead.

The only time he heard you reference it, what happened out there, was when he overheard you with Ellie. Honey-yellow light splayed across the landing, his feet pausing near the creakier floorboards as Ellie’s voice rang out in the quiet, in the heavy air that was desperate to splinter or slither away.

“You survived.”

He likes to imagine your hand sliding into hers, that you nodded, before you realised the meaning of the girl’s words. Maybe your head snapped up, stared into her younger eyes and hunted for the thing that neither of them should have had to suffer through.

“We both did, Ellie,” he heard you say, and his hand goes to the wall for leverage, for stability. “We survived… because we’re stronger than them.”

Then, he breathes out. A heavy one, a puff. An exclamation that loosens the knot around his heart—because it’s that or let the tears burn his eyes. Hand on the wall of the place that now feels home, steadying himself on the stairs that the two of you climb each night before you slide into the bed you now call yours.

Before you call him yours, mouth wrapping around the head of him, taking more of him than he can wrap his head around down your throat. M-i-n-e you stain against his cock, swirl it with your tongue until pulls you from him, burying the same word inside of you, making you arch as the word shifts into something else.

Us.

In the summer, you laugh.

A sound you’ve left escape a handful of times, but nothing like this. Head thrown back, neck elongated—eyes shimmering with mischief and sarcasm and all the other things he noticed in you.

He wonders if you’re better. If things are better.

Ellie has made friends, informs him over breakfast that she’ll be here, there or anywhere, and he just hides a smile behind his mug. Nods, agrees. Asks what time he’ll expect her as he internally grumbles about teenagers. Then, you descend the stairs, half-dressed in you and half-dressed in him, a picture, a sight for the sorest of eyes.

Your kisses have grown softer in the day, than just at night—almost reminiscent of the ones he received before you left that day.

“You still like shortbread, Miller?”

He snorts, elbow on the table that needs tightening, watching you fold your arms—cockiness sewn into your mannerism, in the way you sit. “That what we callin’ between your legs, honey.”

“After last night, y’can call her whatever you goddamn please.”

He snorts, briefly. Instead choosing to hear the lilt of your laugh, watching as it paints sunshine around the room. As it trickles out and flutters, before chair legs scream against floorboards and you’re by his side, palm on his jaw, on the wiry hair that grows in odd ways and leaves patches that never fill.

“Can you walk with me to see the animals?”

He does.

A gut instinct he ignores as your fingers slot themselves in his, tight, holding him as you don’t ask for a breather, don’t sound ragged or out of breath. Only letting go where you near the pen, when your voice becomes that high-pitched tone he remembers briefly—akin to a parent speaking to a baby.

Joel recognises it before you do. Counts, studies—looks for the familiar pattern on the one sheep that sticks out like a sore thumb. He swallows, dread filling his chest, making his stomach bubble and knot.

You look at him.

Sadness blended with hysteria, alarm. Body over the fence, running with awkwardness from healing wrong, until you slow at the side of the place where the animals sleep.

Roscoe on his side, cold, still. Gone.

His heart, whatever remains left of it, breaks when he sees you go to your knees. Tentative shaky hand brushing over sheepskin, before your body rocks, tremors, and you burst.

It’s more than mourning an animal that you’ve cared for. It’s more than mourning itself.

So, he steps back and stands on the other side of the barn door as he listens to the sobs, the cries, the wails and incoherent ramblings. All things that remind him of a loss he never sits too much with. A loss that made a barrel press to his forehead and made him feel like a hole had been left in him forever—one in his chest, not even close to where he’d tried to pull the trigger.

He wonders if you’ll laugh again.

Joel also worries he’s lost you again.

The sun is setting when he returns from patrol, the air sweet when he opens the door—it creaks, protesting against him, and he wonders, briefly if he’s entered the wrong place.

His boots thudding, coat hanging—ache blooming behind his bones.

But it’s all righted when he sees a mixing bowl, egg shells and a pot of honey. In the mess, a plate. Stacked high, and then you.

Different from the person who used to bake in your kitchen, but also different from the person he’d left this morning, tangled in sheets. The one who looked lost, and now appears more found than he’s known in months.

“Hello, stranger.”

Even the sound of you is familiar. That tone, all flirtatious and confident, parcelled in someone who grins as he moves closer.

“Ellie’s out—she stole one, though. So, she’s eaten.”

He snorts. “Just us then?”

Nodding, undoing your apron, sliding it from over your head as you fold it onto his kitchen counter and he keeps approaching. Hand scratching at his patchy beard, watching as you tilt your head, and let your lips slide into your cheek.

You’re back, here—existing.

It’s different, the attraction that thrums in his bones. It had begun as a need, primal, unexplainable, before it shifted, changed, and became something foreign yet oddly familiar, and now it was just desire, longing.

And you kiss him hard as though acknowledging it. Pressing yourself as firmly as you can, smothering yourself to him as though attempting to merge with him. Your tongue licking behind his teeth as you moan, as you equally long, lust and need.

You trail him with your palms, across his chest, shoulders and neck. Trailing them down his back, kneading out aches you haven’t heard him complain about yet, before you’re palming him over his jeans, whimpering at the feel of him hard and desperate.

“Like how you want me, Miller.”

“Like how you take me, honey,” he groans, runs his nose along your neck, licks at your skin—tasting the sweat of your labour having mixed with the sweetness of the air.

It isn’t all the time like he wishes. Tiredness and age played a factor, but right now—like this, a reminder of a memory, he feels anew. Younger. More capable. Roughly shifting you until it’s you pressed against a counter, until he’s pawing at your clothes until he can admire, feel smooth skin with his worn, calloused hands.

“Missed you.”

It leaves his mouth before he can stop it.

Because you’ve been here. But not like this. It is far too honest for what the two of you are technically, but not quite what the two of you have become.

Thankful you grasp his cheek and pull his mouth to yours, but he swears he tastes your reply before he earns it. Before his hand slides inside the band of your cotton panties and makes you hiss against his teeth, slick coating his fingers. An urge to drive you to the edge, to have you pleading, to have you call him Joel and not Miller, to have you seeing white and erode your pain from your body and fill it only with bliss.

He’s a mess, and you’ve barely touched him. The sight of you, unhinged, wild and free. Head thrown back as his thumb swirls circles on your hardening nerves, as your pussy tightens around the fingers he has buried in it. As you moan, as you plea, as you cry and whine for him, almost needing to command you to come so he can sheath his cock in you and feel you.

But, then you surprise him.

As you always fucking do.

“Missed you too,” you whimper, hips grinding against his hand—teetering in the land where you find it hard to shy away and can only emit honesty.

Your eyes, the deepest valley of affection, so much he almost feels he must look away. Undeserving of it. A thing he finds on the tip of his tongue before you call him Joel, before you moan for him.

“Y’perfect, you know that? All o’you,” he confesses, buries it into your ear. “Your tight pussy, your anger, your stubbornness—”

“—Fuck, Joel—”

“Can’t be without you. Not this version. Need you too much—like I need y’to come. Can you come for me, honey? Make a mess of my hand, let me lick you clean—”

“Shit, m’close.”

He knows. Your jaw clenched, body rigid—eyes creased closed as your hips grind slower but deeper, more intense, until they lose rhythm and you snap. In a completely different way than you did all those months ago.

Because this time, he thinks you’ve snapped back into place.

Because when your eyes open, he doesn’t greet a pair that he doesn’t know, but a pair he knows intimately. It’s why he pants, and loses his breath—that, and the fact you grab his hand from between your thighs and bring it to your lips, tasting yourself, licking yourself clean from him.

“Get upstairs, Miller.”

His brow arches, mouth clamping shut. A fire building in his chest, his other hand flexing at his side, wanting to slap it to your ass and ask you to repeat yourself.

But, you straighten your spine, look him dead in the eye. “Wanna ride you, Joel.”

Before autumn comes—before leaves change and the Jackson is shadowed by earlier nights and later mornings. When it looks close to the misery and horror that lives outside of the walls. Joel is on his knees.

Tools close to his fingers, red toolbox to the side.

Itching, necessarily torturing himself by fixing things that don’t need fixing, just to busy his hands, keep his mind on something, to not worry, to not hate, to not be angry.

“She’s going to be alright.”

Joel almost snorts, but buries it under a cough. Twists the bolt into the wood, checking the panel with a rough tug as Ellie shifts position, as she comes to a place he can’t avoid not glancing at her. Now scowling and making her be distant with him even more than she already is.

Because his mind is a storm, all concocted with worry he doesn’t what to do with, with fear he hasn’t been able to displace. Each horrid thought is thunderous, like a crack in the silence as the house creaks and he struggles to keep himself from splintering. Twisted up, insides knotted, every distant shout or laugh setting his already tired heart racing—forcing it to pound against his ribs like a prisoner desperate to escape.

He’s not the same man he was before. Not sure if he’d have the strength to keep you safe in the way you’d not needed then, but could now.

It’s why he keeps picturing you, darkness closing in, shadows formed with malicious intent attempting to take you. It makes his hands shake, as he grips the tool tighter, almost as if by holding onto something solid he can anchor his thoughts. Images of your last injury flashed in his mind—the blood, the pain, the helplessness he felt.

How angelically gothic you looked surrounded by snow. How he can still taste the metallic tang in the air if he thinks about it too much

“She’s not wrong,” a voice says.

One that forces his head up, one that makes him double-take.

You standing, with no scratch, no markings. Not a figment of his imagination, but something real from the shadows that stretch from your legs across the ground. Not an illusion as Ellie throws herself at you, all arms and cheerful glee.

Real, real, real, as you step up the porch, as you crouch down and grumble at the ache in your bones, and kiss his mouth. Warm, and all very you.

“You been worryin’ about me, Miller?”

He chews his tongue, drops his gaze before he flicks it back up. “No.”

You smirk, devious, but yet still so sweet. “Good.”

Hand still caressing his skin, thumb brushing over the patch you comment looks like a heart—one you brought up some weeks back, asking if it’s for you, if it doesn’t grow just for you. Smirking, laughing, leg bent over his hip as you continue to tease. Is this how you tell me you love me, by shaving a heart, Miller? And, just for me, a heart all of my own?

“You fancy getting a drink with me tonight?”

Frowning, he lowers the tool back to the floor. “Y’wanna go out?”

“With you? Yeah.”

Swallowing, he glances over your shoulder to see Ellie smirking, looking more pleased than he’s ever known her. Swaying, folded arms as she begins to nod at him, mouthing say yes, say yes.

“Ellie wants to go to Dina’s,” you add, as though spotting where his gaze has gone. “And, I realised something.”

He hums as you lower to your knees in front of him, as you cup his cheek and tug his eyes back to you.

“We never watched that VHS, either. Did we?”

Clearing his throat, hand coming to rest on your wrist, thumb drawing a shape against it. “No. We didn’t.”

Smiling, face lighting up—shimmering. Exactly like that time you had brought him shortbread in a tin. “Y’wanna go on a date with me, Joel? Drink and a movie.”

Glancing at Ellie, and then back to you. Spreading his hand from your wrist up to the back of your hand, it dwarfing yours against his cheek, staring into your eyes—so sure he sees your monster smiling at him too.

“Let me clean up. You… Y’deserve that.”

“Alright,” you reply.

“What, no arguin’?”

Shrugging, dropping your hand as you sigh. “I know when to pick my arguments with my man.”

He tries not to show how that warms him, the words replaying over and over. It makes his chest tighten in a way he doesn’t hate. My man. A phrase that carries a weight, an intimacy he's not accustomed to out here, only ever when he’s buried inside of you and your skin is glistening with sweat, him and his spend.

He swallows hard, masking the fluttering in his chest, concealing the way his breath catches ever so slightly. A vulnerability in those words—how you’ve exposed yourself. Changed your tune from no names to this. A soft promise he’s struggling to wrap his head around. He knows you see it, that flicker of something unguarded in his eyes.

His hand balls into a fist, his thumb sliding over his fingers, levelling himself as the emotions surge, unbidden and uncontrollable. Feeling exposed, as though you’ve peeled back the layers of his defences with a single phrase, laid bare the raw, tender part of him he thought long buried.

But he doesn’t hate it. Not the strange comfort in being wanted or seen, even less so by you. How it makes him want to run and stay all at once. He suspects you know the turmoil you’ve stirred, having done so to yourself with the confession.

And somehow, knowing that helps him swallow it, accept it, finding it true.

“Tha’ make you mine, then?”

Shrugging, you roll your lips, a coy, more nervous smile there. “If you want.”

If he wants, he snorts.

Three words he repeats hours later, when he’s stripping you bare, lying you down on the bed that belongs to you as much as him.

“If I want?” he repeats, your lips curling into a smirk.

Before he’s dipping his mouth between your thighs, writing with his tongue how he's wanted that for months now, maybe even since the very beginning.

an: it may have taken me a long time, but, i hope in some way it was worth it. thank you for reading! eeeep I finished a joel 😂

-

npts for those who loved them the whole time (sorry if you didn’t want this tag, forgive meeee):

@swiftispunk @missladym1981 @ptime1999 @survivingandenduring @pimosworld

@sawymredfox @thelightsandtheroses

[cinimon01]

Another Mothers Day without a mother or children.

Sunday May 12th 2024

Mothers day is always hard now we are older. We miss our mums in heaven and miss our children in Australia. But thanks to the technology of Star link, we are able to all catch up via video link and have a family catch up face to face. All of our fruit cakes looked wonderful and I just want to hug them all. I wish I could have a link up to my mum as well. There is so much I would like to tell her.😢

In the morning as we still had the car we drove to Opua to do some washing and we went to brunch.

On this day we decided to get the things done to the boat that were bothering us most. Mainly the batteries. Our batteries are AGM and 4 years old. They do not provide enough energy for our boat any longer and some days if there is not much sun to power up with solar, we have to start the generator to get things going. So that was one thing, then we thought about the freezer situation and decided to replace the inefficient Engel freezer and get a larger, quieter draw freezer. So these things decided we felt better about staying on the boat in New Zealand for the next 10 months.

Sun rise on mothers day.

13th May 2024.

We were keeping the car for a few days as Neil our long time friend from Shell was coming to stay so we had to get to Whangarei airport to pick him up. So we drove the Opua and left the car there and walked, yes walked 2 hours back around the coast track to Paihia. It was beautiful, a bit challenging but a lovely walk. I tried out my new knee guard and it worked a treat. I made the distance up hill and down without as much pain.

14th May 2024.

This was always going to be a big day. First tidy and clean the boat as we were having a visitor. Then motor to Opua and dock in berth H10. Time for a quick shower and jump in the car and rive to Whangarei. Went to Pack and Save to provision for the week, as its the best and cheapest supermarket I have found in NZ, then off to collect Neil. We arrived back to the boat at 9.45pm, had a few welcome aboard Mai Tai's and chat before we went to sleep.

15th May 2024,

Today Neil and David fixed a few things and we sorted a few problems that needed a third opinion. Then in the evening we were invited to Olliy's boat. A 60meter cat he works on and is about to sail to Tonga. We went aboard as they were provisioning and I couldnt believe the amount of food for 5 people needed for a two week passage. But I was told that they were planning 4 weeks before actually going to a shop. So the amount of beer may last?

17th May 2024

Yoga in the morning with the lovely ladies in Opua, then out into the bay where we managed to get the sails up for an hour or so before the wind died completely. Motored back to Russell for Davids stitches to be removed and I needed an afternoon nap, or as Neil calls it a SCAN. (Senior Citizens Afternoon Nap).

18th May 2024

Off into the bay, we sailed for a while then found a great fishing spot. (Same spot I caught the snapper). I caught a king fish and Neil caught 2 snapper. Just legal length. Yummy dinner and stayed in Te Hue Bay overnight.

19th May 2024

Neil had to fly home from Whangarei on Thursday the 23rd, so we thought we would sail there and stay in the Marina for a few days and see what it was like. We were told it was a lovely friendly Marina and the shops were just across the road. The weather checked in Ok but not great and we thought it would be good experience for us. So we started out with a man over board drill and practiced a figure of 8 to pick up Wilson, our orange fender. We picked him up each time but I think he had hypothermia by the end of it. The we started towards the hole in the rock which is open to the sea and on the way to Whangarei. As soon as we turned the corner to round the rock we were hit with 2m waves and a huge swell. Neil said it wasn't that bad, but we were travelling against the wind and the boat was shaking and rolling all over the place. It was a messy ocean with waves and swell mashing together. Not a comfortable ride at all. After about 3 hours of wave bashing we pulled into Bland Bay for the night. I was not as protected from the southerly as we thought so we rocked all night. I cooked a quick spaghetti bolognaise for dinner and we were all exhausted.

20th May 2024.

A decision was made to go back to The Bay of Islands as the weather was worse than yesterday. So we again faced the huge seas up the coast toward the hole in the rock, but this time the wind was behind us and we surfed most of the way. There was a rouge wave that hit our starboard windows and shook the boat, toppling a few things, but other than that it was better than yesterday. We pulled into Opunga Cove and all was quiet and calm. So I cooked the lamb roast we planned for last night and it was delicious. There is a unique feeling of cooking and eating something so yummy and soothing after a rough day, in the middle of now where, surrounded by water and not a sole in sight that makes this a special moment. And then appeared a rainbow.

21st May 2024,

Went sailing again this morning. Neil imparting some knowledge on trimming sails and getting a feeling for the wind has been soooo valuable. Pulled into Motuarohia Island where I walked to the top of the hill, fantastic look out and then had a picnic on the beach. Finished the day with some fishing and met Colin the Cormorant. He stole my bait and then Neils bait. So we motored away from him to another sport, but he followed us for quite a distance. It was quite funny. Then back to Russell where we went ashore for a pub feed and then back to the boat for a sleep.

22nd May 2024,

Caught the ferry to Paihia then drove to Whangarei. After some house keeping, Bunnings, plumbing shop, Warehouse and ordering of some Mai Tai shirts, we had the best Thai meal and said farewell to Neil who stayed at the Grand Hotel for the night before his 6am flight. Then David and I drove back to Russell where I saw our first kiwi on the road between the car ferry and the town. He scooted across the road so fast. There are quite a few signs announcing that the live in the area and I'm always worried I would hit one.

[kataria07]

Special chicken Biryani

Chicken Biryani isn’t just a dish; it’s a voyage through the kaleidoscope of flavors that define Indian cuisine. This culinary masterpiece, adorned with aromatic spices, succulent chicken, and fragrant Basmati rice, promises an unparalleled sensory ad venture. In this guide, we’ll unravel the art of crafting the perfect Chicken Biryani — a dish that promises an explosion of flavors in every bite.

Ingredients:

1. Chicken: Bone-in or boneless pieces, as per your preference.

2. Basmati Rice: Fragrant, long-grain Basmati rice.

3. Onions: Thinly sliced and caramelized for sweetness and flavor.

4. Tomatoes: Fresh tomatoes and tomato paste for a tangy balance.

5. Yogurt: To tenderize the chicken and add creaminess.

6. Ginger-Garlic Paste: The aromatic foundation of our Biryani.

7. Biryani Spice Mix: A fusion of cinnamon, cardamom, cloves, and bay leaves.

8. Saffron: Infused in warm milk for a regal touch.

9. Fresh Herbs: Mint leaves and cilantro for garnish.

10. Ghee or Clarified Butter: For richness and flavor.

11. Oil: For cooking chicken and onions.

12. Salt: The unifying seasoning.

I: Marinating the Chicken

Kick off your culinary odyssey by marinating the chicken in a blend of yogurt, ginger-garlic paste, a portion of the biryani spice mix, and salt. Allow it to rest for at least 30 minutes, or preferably longer in the refrigerator. This marination is the key to infusing the meat with incredible flavors.

With the chicken marinating, turn your attention to the Basmati rice. Rinse it thoroughly and soak it for 30 minutes. Parboil the rice until it reaches 70–80% doneness, then drain and set it aside. The partially cooked rice will finish its journey in the Biryani.

III: Caramelizing the Onions

Thinly slice the onions and embark on the art of caramelization. In a pan with oil, let the onions transform into a rich, deep golden hue. Half of these caramelized onions will become a dramatic garnish later in the performance.

IV: Cooking the Chicken

Return to the marinated chicken, now infused with flavors. Sauté it until it attains a partial golden hue, signifying its engagement with the spices and aromatics. Set the chicken aside, allowing it to rejoin the cast for the grand finale.

V: The Grand Performance — Layering the Biryani

Now, let’s create the heart of your Biryani. In a heavy-bottomed pot with a snug-fitting lid, start layering. Begin with a base of cooked rice, followed by the chicken, a sprinkle of the biryani spice mix, and a scattering of caramelized onions. Repeat this symphonic layering until all the rice and chicken are skillfully woven together.

VI: A Touch of Elegance — Saffron Infusion

Introduce a touch of opulence in Act VI. Blend saffron strands that have been steeped in warm milk, and drizzle this golden elixir over the final layer of your Biryani masterpiece, imparting a regal touch.

VII: Dum Cooking — Sealing the Fate

To seal the fate of your creation, enact a culinary tradition known as “dum” cooking. Secure the pot tightly with a lid or seal the edges with a soft dough boundary, ensuring a hermetic seal. Simmer the Biryani over low heat for 20–25 minutes. This slow and gentle cooking process allows the flavors to intermingle, with the rice absorbing the aromatic steam and the chicken tenderizing to perfection.

VIII: The Grand Finale — Garnish and Serve

The climax unfolds in Act VIII — the grand finale. Sprinkle your Chicken Biryani with fresh mint leaves, vibrant cilantro, and the reserved caramelized onions. This garnish elevates the dish to its zenith.

Curtains Fall: A Culinary Masterpiece

Chicken Biryani isn’t just a dish; it’s a culinary art form. Each mouthful narrates a story of patience, precision, and passion. As you embark on this gastronomic journey, remember that practice refines perfection. Feel free to experiment with spice levels, garnishes, or complementary accompaniments like raita or cucumber salad. Over time, you’ll sculpt your unique rendition of Chicken Biryani — a testament to your culinary prowess.

So, with sleeves rolled up and culinary dreams aflame, let Chicken Biryani claim the spotlight in your kitchen. With dedication and creativity, you’ll master this culinary masterpiece, forging unforgettable memories around your dining table. May your Chicken Biryani resonate as an enduring testament to the art of gastronomy. Enjoy!

[dulieuphapluat]

Quyết định 1360/QĐ-UBND năm 2023 của Ủy ban nhân dân tỉnh Thừa Thiên Huế công bố Danh mục thủ tục hành chính được sửa đổi bổ sung trong lĩnh vực Giám định y khoa và thủ tục hành chính bị bãi bỏ trong lĩnh vực Y dược cổ truyền thuộc phạm vi chức năng quản lý của Sở Y tế tỉnh Thừa Thiên Huế.....

Quyết định 1360/QĐ-UBND năm 2023 của Ủy ban nhân dân tỉnh Thừa Thiên Huế công bố Danh mục thủ tục hành chính được sửa đổi, bổ sung trong lĩnh vực Giám định y khoa và thủ tục hành chính bị bãi bỏ trong lĩnh vực Y dược cổ truyền thuộc phạm vi chức năng quản lý của Sở Y tế tỉnh Thừa Thiên Huế..... được ban hành ngày 12/06/2023. Nguồn bài viết https://dulieuphapluat.vn/van-ban/to-chuc-bo-may-nha-nuoc/quyet-dinh-1360qd-ubnd-nam-2023-cua-uy-ban-nhan-dan-tinh-thua-thien-hue-cong-bo-danh-muc-thu-tuc-hanh-chinh-duoc-sua-doi-bo-sung-trong-linh-vuc-giam-dinh-y-khoa-va-thu-tuc-hanh-chinh-bi-bai-bo-trong-linh-vuc-y-duoc-co-truyen-thuoc-pham-vi-chuc-nang-quan-ly-cua-so-y-te-tinh-thua-thien-hue-1114789/ Tra cứu văn bản pháp luật miễn phí tại Website dulieuphapluat.vn

[wellingtonnz]

Hue Te Taka peninsula

[blackvelvetwriteson]

𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐒𝐌𝐎𝐊𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐌𝐈𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐑𝐒

                                              (  ~ Sero Hanta x Black Female                                                                   Reader Insert ~ )

GENRE: Smut and Fluffy Fluff!                                                                  

FANDOM: Boku No Hero Academia (My Hero Academia)

TRIGGER WARNINGS: There are only mild warnings for today; mentions of cannabis, Dubcon on the account that Sero is high, and slight dacryphilia.

SUMMARY: Sero gets jarred by a nightmare, so he smokes and watches over Reader-Chan until she wakes up. They talk a little and she soothes him back to sleep. 

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Hey there! This fic is part of my 100 followers event that I’m hosting in light of recently reaching, well, 100 followers.. I WOULD LIKE TO NOTE THAT READING THESE FICS WILL BE SOOOO MUCH BETTER IF YOU READ THEN WHILE PLAYING THE SONG!! I PROMISE, IT’S A WHOLE VIBE!! If you’d like to request a scenario, a song and/or a character, I’m MORE than welcome and open to do that! My ask box is open!  Thank you so so much for your support!

WORD COUNT: 3385

(Headers are mine, but the art inside of them are not! Please don’t steal or repost without credit!)

           “You’re not getting away this time,” was an ugly, disgusting voice that resonated in Sero’s head that, after a long series of nightmares, had him shooting up, panting softly with sweat sheening his muscular body, his arms hugging his legs to his body. It was 4:15 in the morning and he had to be up in a couple of hours, but he still couldn’t go back to sleep. He figured he’d take a day off and try to catch up on sleep that he’d been missing. He looked over at you who was sleeping peacefully in the bed. He admired everything about you for a long while, his hand caressing your face gently as his heart slowed to a healthy rate. He kissed your fawn cheek gently before he slid out of bed. Your soft breaths resonated in his mind and he smiled a little as he saw you take a deep breath and cuddle into a pillow.

“Te quiero, cariño. Duerme bien por mí, ya vuelvo. [I love you honey. Sleep well for me, I’ll be right back.]” He mumbled to you softly before he walked to your kitchen silently, adjusting his joggers a little as he ran his fingers through his hair making his bang run unruly as he leaned over the counter. As soon as he leaned forward in the dark, his head in his hands, he’d broken down. He’d been having nightmares from a previous intense mission for about a week, and this just happened to be the straw that broke the camel’s back. Soon he was a mess of tears, his palms collecting every drop as he cried into the darkness of the kitchen. His knees were weak, his body burned with want to be a “useful” hero like Bakugo or Kirishima. He’d started to slip into a fit of insecurity while you slept in innocence in the room, the comforters like waves crashing over you and hugging your body. He let out a soft shaky sigh before feeling his way around the counter to find the coffee pot. He figured he’d be awake anyways, why not make some coffee for after his smoke. He gently spooned the coffee grounds into the filter, filled the pot with water and let the coffee brew as he sighed softly. He leaned against the counter again, grunting softly before looking over at a small box he kept on the counter. He grabbed the small container and a box right beside it. He stole a lighter from beside the set and he slid it in his pocket as he rolled himself a late night/early morning blunt. It’d been awhile since he smoked, but whenever he did, it always managed to make him feel more confident in himself, made him relax, and it made him overall just more laid back. That’s why he waited for that moment when he finally broke down to smoke, and he always waited until you were asleep so you didn’t have to deal with him as his insecurities told him you would. He walked to the small pocket in your room and the living room that contained a big beautiful bay window in which the two of you often cuddled.

From the window, you had a pretty secular view of the city and city lights and the sunrises and sunsets were absolutely otherworldly. He took his place, opening the window up while looking at the late night stragglers scurry along the pavement. He licked the strip that he had left out and smoothed it against the rest of the blunt, sticking one of the ends in his mouth, taking his lighter and holding it up to the tip but resting his head against the wall/ sill instead, taking the blunt from his mouth with two fingers and a heavy sigh.   “¿Qué estoy haciendo? [What am I doing?]” He mumbled to himself with a soft sigh before shaking his head and resting one of his elbows on his knee that was raised, his fingers tangling with his hair again. “A la mierda. [Fuck it]” he mumbled out to himself as he watched himself light the blunt with squinted, teary eyes. He took a long drag out of it and ghosted the smoke holding it in as he felt his brain get a little more hazy. He stared over at you laying on the bed as he forced his high. He flashed a soft smile before starting to cough quietly. When he exhaled, there was hardly any smoke left and he even looked surprised at himself. He admired the smoldering bud in between two of his fingers before he took another drag and hummed softly, leaning his head back against the wall again as he looked outside of the window, the sky slowly turning brighter shades of purple and blue. He knew it was getting later, but for once he didn’t care. He just watched you sleep, smiling subtly with a slight reddish tint under his eyes. “Mi hermosa niña... ¿Cómo he tenido tanta suerte? [My beautiful girl… How did I get so lucky?]” he whispered to himself as he took yet another drag from his blunt, holding it in until he got lightheaded and he blew the smoke out of the window.

“Dos ángeles perdidos descubren la salvación… [Two lost angels discover salvation..]” he mumbled quietly from a song he’d remembered you playing but he couldn’t quite pinpoint from where. He was too far gone at this point, but he noticed that that one line held weight to him even though he loved the whole song. He loved the songs you played possibly because you were the one who played them and when you sang them, you matched no other; because ‘music is the purest and rawest form of affection’ he always said. You started to hum softly in your sleep, stirring under how bright the moon was before the sun came up. You sighed softly and let your eyes flutter as you watched Sero smoking in the window, his slender fingers playing in the smoke clouds that he exhaled, that happy grin on his face, his squinted eyes as he got lost in himself and his thoughts of you. You couldn’t help but to notice how the moon and soft light of the fast approaching day illuminated his skin and this made you smile as you stretched in the bed still half asleep.

“Ah, see,” you giggled softly. “I knew I smelled somethin,’” you giggled as you watched him slowly turn his head towards you. “You had another nightmare or somethin’,” you asked as you continued to lay down and cuddle your pillow. He didn’t say anything, he just nodded and sighed softly. “Aw baby,” you say softly as you sit up and stretch again, yawning and rubbing your eyes a little. “Why didn’t you just wake me up,” you ask softly as you threw your legs over the side of the bed, adjusting the shirt that hung off of your body as you made your way over to Sero on the seat of the window.

“Lo siento, [I’m sorry,]” he mumbled softly as he blew smoke out of the window. “I didn’t want to disturb you because I know you have a shift today,” he whispered softly. “I just wanted to watch you sleep,” he said quietly as he let his arm reach in front of him, the blunt half smoked in between his fingers, his elbow resting on his knee gently. You made your way over to him and gently hugged him from the side, gently pulling his head against your chest.

“You know you mad cute when you get like this right?” You giggled softly as you ran your fingers through his smooth hair. He blushed a little and hugged your waist from the side, closing his eyes and completely relaxing into you.

“Honestly, no, cariño, that’s all you,” he said softly as he felt himself get emotional again. “Can you sing me that one song�� Where he says.. Something about, ‘two lost angels discover salvation,’ sometime,” he asked and your mind instantly woke up. You smiled a little at the scent of brewing coffee sneaking into your room.

“That song by Miguel? Coffee?” You chuckle softly and sway slowly as you hum softly, always open to sing to your love even if it was entirely too early and you were low-key getting a second hand high from him.

“ I wish I could paint our love… These moments and vibrant hues… Love play, turns in to gun play, And gun play turns into pillow talk… And pillow talk turns into sweet dreams… Sweet dreams turns into fucking in the morning… Fucking in the morning…” you hummed softly to him as you felt his free hand hug your arm. He was getting glassy-eyed again loving how you felt against him so early, singing to him so sweetly as you tenderly held him.

“Sí mi amor, [Yes my love,]” he whispered softly as you sung to him, his head tilting back as his eyes closed. “That’s the one…”

As you usually did, you started skipping parts in the song to ones that you liked more. He hummed softly with you and he nuzzled his head into your chest as he took another drag from his blunt and listened to you. “Old souls, we found a new religion… Now I’m swimmin’ in that sin, that’s baptism... Pick a star in the sky we could both say goodbye… Old souls we found a new religion, now I’m swimmin’ in that sin, that’s baptism…” You looked down at him and his almost ashed blunt and you laughed softly as you saw how adorning his gaze was and he hummed with you softly.

“Two lost angels discover salvation.. Under bright peach skies watching the sun rise…”

“Dos ángeles perdidos descubren la salvación.. Bajo brillantes cielos de melocotón viendo salir el sol…” He mumbled softly with you before putting his blunt out and standing up, his hand resting at your waist before running up his shirt that you were wearing. He kissed you gently and slowly, gently running his tongue, which to him felt like cotton, over your bottom lip before sliding it into your mouth. He bit your bottom lip and fell into a slow rhythm, gently and slowly leading you to the bed, pushing you down as soft growls left him and he ran both of his hands up your body, gripping your chest, kneading into your breasts slowly and gently as you started to grind into him slowly and subtly, both of you halfway asleep, and Sero now sensitive because of how stoned he was. He bit your lip again and tugged with his teeth, gently and slowly pulling away, kissing down your neck as your hands guided his strong hips to grind into yours. His eyes looked a little fogged over and distant from what you could see, but in all honesty, you didn’t care. You’d had a bad dream and feeling him against you was exactly what you needed; having him love you down while you quietly showed him how to take care of you while slowly improving both of your moods. The soft, crisp breeze pushed through your room through the opened window and it cooled you down as you felt Sero’s teeth against your neck. You whined softly and ran your fingers through his hair slowly, messing his hair up as his strong hands continued to knead into your chest, his eyes closing as he let out soft hums against your skin. It got to the point where you started to hurt with how rough he was being so you gently caressed the side of his head and pointed him onto how to change and help you right. “A-Ah babe, that’s just a lil too hard,” you whispered softly as you felt him lift the shirt and you shivered at the sudden cold air over your body as his hands eased up on the squeezing and pulling.

“Lo siento, mi amor, [I’m sorry my love,]” he said softly as he pressed his lips against yours, his eyes running over your nipples before he hugged you close to him and slowly and gently sucked on one, his tongue swirling slowly and gently around the bud making your back arch into him, your fingers getting lost in his hair as you let out sleepy moans, that song running on loop in your mind as he tended to you. You gently ran your fingers over his chest and under his shirt to tease his nipples while he cared for yours. He let out soft shuddering breaths against your skin as you pushed your hips into a slow grind into his. “O-Oh fuck,” he whined softly as he nipped your neck again, practically losing himself as he slowly slid one hand in your panties, one finger effortlessly pushing into your dripping cunnie making you push into Sero some more, your eyes looking gone too. You looked up at him and pulled his head closer as you arched your back into him.

“Please,” you mumbled to him softly. “Please give me another finger,” you slurred out as you clung to him and started to ride his finger. He couldn’t do anything but oblige, his fingers curling sweetly into your sweet special spot as he added another, his hand slowly thrusting them in and out sloppily as his body tingled with his high. “T-Thank you! O-Oh f-fuck thank you,” you whined out quietly, slowly maintaining a slow rhythm so you didn’t overwhelm him but you still got your pleasure. One of your hands clung to Sero, gently peppering soft kisses over his lips, your teeth catching his lip occasionally, the other hand slowly stroking him through his joggers. He trembled and let his legs give out as he leaned into you, gently kissing you back, soft hums and groans brewing in his chest as he rocked himself against your hand. He couldn’t help his shuddering breath against your soft shapely lips in between every kiss and nibble you dealt. The way his muscles flexed with every movement as he tried not to cum had you dreamy eyed and wanting more. “S-Sero p-please, You whined softly as you tried to close your thighs, the way his fingers pressing against your special spot having your back arched and breathing hitched and stuck in your throat. “P-Please… I-I want you,” you whined out softly, wanting so badly to cum while he had you impaled on his cock. He looked down and then back up at you, his eyes halfway closed and bloodshot. He stopped grinding into your hand slowly and let out a choked whine against your lips, his hands worshipping your beautiful body. “Can I… G-Go inside,” he asked softly, gently kissing your cheeks, your lips, and down your neck as he waited for your answer.  Even while he was in his intense high, he was still just as respectful as ever; even as his muscular body hung over your seemingly delicate frame that he loved so much, even panting and gasping for air as he tried not to cum. You, of course, nodded and gently kissed his forehead gently.

“Yes, Sero,” you said softly as you spread your legs for him more. “P-Please… I want to feel you inside of me,” you said softly and sleepily. “Fuck me back to sleep,” you said softly before watching his eyebrows knit a little. He pushed his boxers and sweats down, slowly and gently trying to line himself up so he didn’t hurt you when he slid inside, sucking his fingers clean as he hummed softly. “Mi amor,” he whispered softly. “I’m not ‘fucking’ you,” he said as he let out a pleasured groan, slowly sliding the tip inside, arching his back and throwing his head back as he suddenly felt the intense pleasure, wanting more, but wanting to go slow. “I’m making lo-love to y-you,” he whispered, soft curses spilling out of him as he slowly slid himself in, inch by inch, his body becoming even more tense as he slowly bottomed out inside of you. “S-So t-tight,” he whimpered softly, his pelvis catching your clit when he did bottom out inside of you, his eyes glistening with tears of overstimulation already but you didn’t mind. The way he filled you up, a small bulge forming in your tummy as he tried to adjust, you clenching down around him driving him crazy. His lips quivered as he stared at you, his mind running circles, his heart pounding against his chest enough to shake his core, frantically swallowing as he choked back his own orgasm. “I-I c-can’t move,” he whispered softly sounding like he was going to break down into tears. “I c-can’t… B-Baby!” He whined loudly as he slowly grinded his hips into yours, tilting his head back as he lost control of his tears letting them dampen his reddened, hot face. He looked down at you and watched the moonlight catch your body, not being able to rip his gaze away from you, watching how your face beautifully contorted as you grabbed at him in a desperate attempt to get closer to him, moaning out soft curses after moaning out his name, how you pressed your body into the bed. He didn’t know that he had this hold on you with such slow and subtle movements, but it was obvious he was driving you insane and he loved it all. He took in the sight in front of him, falling in love all over again as he towered over you and rolled his hips into yours slowly and rhythmically. “I-I’m so-sorry! L-Lo siento! I-I’m g-gonna c-cum,” he whined out after a fit of choked moans. “Te quiero... Te quiero tanto, cariño- [I love you, I love you so much, baby-]” he whined out, his breath hitching at the end of his sentence, his hips fucking into yours dealing hard thrusts as he tried to milk himself using the grip you had on him as leverage. “F-FUCK! C-CUMMING! I-I’m c-cumming!” He moaned out as he completely broke down into overstimulated tears. You whimpered loudly and egged him on, your legs wrapping around his waist so he could reach deeper inside of you, your eyes glazed over as you looked up at him sleepily, feeling him tremble against you with soft groans.

“Y-Yes,” you moaned out meekly, drowning happily in all of Sero’s sounds. “T-Thank you! F-Fuck! Thank you thank you thank-“ Your breathing hitched as you were filled up, your eyes rolling back into your head as you came and clenched hard around him. “F-Fuck! S-SERO,” you screamed out, scratching into him roughly as you bucked your hips riding out your high against him, tears of your own threatening to spill from your waterline. His body was twitching and trembling as he whimpered softly at your throbbing insides tightening around him over and over again. “You d-did so good for me baby,” you whimpered softly, guiding him down to your level, gently positioning him so he could lay on your chest. He was a sniffling mess, stray tears falling down his face, his eyes glistening as he looked up at you while you played in his hair and rubbed his back still cockwarming him. “My beautiful boy,” you whispered softly, gently kissing his forehead, slowly drying his cheeks of his tears as he tried to get his breathing under control. He tried to speak, but his jaw felt as heavy as a cinderblock, he could only sputter out soft mumbles as you continued to coo at him and massage his back and neck. “Go to sleep, baby. I’ll call in later,” you whisper softly, gently kissing the top of his head, humming to him softly to lull him- successfully- to sleep as the purple-ish hues of the early morning melted into soft peaches and dim golds blanketing the both of you. You hummed softly and managed to hum yourself to sleep, just moving your hips a little to get him deeper inside of you as you slept. You loved the feeling of him filling you up, the scent of the brewed coffee now completely in your room making you slip off deeper into sleep.

[venusandromedadjarin]

Cuyan

Ch. 11, A Glint of Beskar

18+, TW: rape, non/con sex discussed, trauma, 2.4k words

The familiar sound of the hatch opening wakes you up later that night and you groggily reach for the baby, only to find him asleep and squished between you and the back of the couch. He coos softly, disturbed by your sudden movement, and you do your best to get up without jostling him more before heading outside. One of the pit lights is on and it gives you a clear view of the bounty that Mando is currently manhandling onto the ship. It’s a young woman, and she doesn’t seem to care that Mando is easily twice her size as she turns around, struggling against him trying to kick at him. Her knee makes contact with his groin and he does his best to not show weakness, but you see him tense before shoving her the rest of the way into the ship. The gas hisses, and you figure it’s safe enough to walk towards the ship, your heart pounding with excitement. He’d been gone less than a day and you already had an ache in your chest from missing him, and worrying about him hunting.

He meets you at the bottom of the ramp, his helmet tilting towards you. You can’t see his face light up at the sight of you in the t-shirt, his t-shirt, that you’d been sleeping in, your arms crossed over your breasts. His gloved hand reaches out to you, and as soon as you take it he pulls you into his chest, his strong arms holding you up against the cold Beskar.

Even though your relationship had started to change, the one thing that remained was comfortable silence, and as you led him back inside, you both wordlessly thanked the Maker for that.

Naturally, Mando isn’t there when you wake up and neither is the child. You take the brief break to freshen up in the sonic shower, doing your best to clean off without water. Unlike the shower in the Crest, it’s not a place you want to stay long and you quickly get out and get dressed. Peli actually has a mirror in her bathroom, and you fuss with your hair for a moment before deciding on a braid. As you make your way through the quaint apartment, you spot a cup of caf on the kitchen counter, a note underneath: In the hangar with Peli, don’t come into the ship. -M At first, you’re a bit taken aback, but then you calm your racing thoughts, realizing where they were heading was not likely. The caf isn’t the best, but the warmth spreads through you and eases your anxiety about the information you plan on sharing with Mando. After talking to Peli, you know that she’s right. He does deserve to know. But what strikes you the most is what she said about him and how he acts around you. Smiling into the cup, you take another sip before padding out into the heat of the day. The suns are already high in the sky and it’s blindingly bright.

A pit droid is trembling on the ground and the child tries to terrorize it, even though he’s half the size of the machine when it’s standing up. His eyes grow larger, something you still are surprised by, when he sees you and begins to waddle toward you as you look around for Mando and Peli. Her shrill voice is coming from inside the hull, and you hear him sighing as one of them bangs on something inside. Scooping the kid up, you approach the door but hesitate, remembering the note.

Almost like he can sense your presence, Mando steps into view, effectively blocking your path before you can peer inside, “Good morning.” If you didn’t know better, you’d guess he was smirking. “I like this.” He reaches a gloved hand towards your hair, his fingers running down the length of the braid before giving it the smallest tug, sending a whole new warmth through your core.

Blushing, you step back, achingly aware of the child in your arms watching the interaction, “What are you doing with Peli?” It comes out more shrill than you’d have liked, and he notices the implication right away, tilting his helmet towards you, his hands on his hips.

“Nothing. I’m taking you on a detour,” he pauses, looking down slightly… almost sheepishly. “I-if you want to go. She said she’ll watch the kid.”

You can’t help the grin that spreads across your features before whispering, “Just the two of us?” He nods, his hand coming up to tilt your chin up to him as he steps closer, his thumb dragging over your lower lip and making both of you breathe slightly heavier.

“Just the two of us,” the modulator cracks out his whisper.

The moment is quickly broken by the sudden fussing in your arms as Peli comes down the ramp, the little womp rat struggling to get to her. “Hey kiddo!” She takes him from your arms, smiling warmly before nodding her head towards a jump speeder suited with bags, “You two better get going.” Mando reaches out to rub the kid’s ear between two gloved fingers before taking your hand. As he mounts the bike, a giddy excitement pools in your belly and you settle behind him, pulling on the leather jacket and scarf that was laying on top of the bags and wrapping your arms around his waist. He doesn’t waste a moment before lurching out of the docking bay and racing towards the dunes, the two suns high above your heads.

Mos Eisley speeds by, the tan buildings all but blending into the sand colored landscape. You lean your cheek against Mando’s shoulder, his cloak giving a small buffer between your skin and the Beskar. You feel him sigh contentedly and you smile, watching as the sand swirls underneath the speeder.

After what feels like hours, and judging by the suns probably was, you make out structures in the distance. The closer you get, you start to see the shapes: giant, bulbous rocks that almost look like… mushrooms. You gasp and he chuckles in front of you. “Is that,” you yell over the wind whipping around you, “the Mushroom Mesa?” His helmet nods against the wind, but his modulated voice doesn’t answer you. As he enters the structures looming up on all sides, you let go of his waist and sit up, throwing your arms up, whooping out of joy. In front of you, you hear the most beautiful sound burst the modulator: his laughter. Even with the modulation you can hear how lovely it is, and at that moment you think it’s the best sound you had ever heard but aching for the day you could hear it unobstructed. He races between the rocks for a few more minutes before finding a spot to camp, one that’s easy to guard but also easy to leave.

He dismounts from the speeder, taking your hand and squeezing it, “Do you know how to speak Tusken?” You nod, your brow creasing curiously, waiting for him to elaborate. He lets go of your hand, moving to unhook the bags behind you before gesturing widely with a sweep of his arm, “I’m going to set up camp, and you’re going to go ride through here. If anyone stops you, it will be Sand People and I trust you can handle that.” He reaches down to grab a blaster, tucking it into your waistband, “Just in case. Be careful.”

The smile you give him before speeding away is dazzling.

It had been years since you felt the wind through your hair like this, and it brought tears to your eyes.

The rocks are gorgeous hues of reds and tans, the shapes carved out from millions of years of erosion. You catch glimpses of movement a few times, but nothing stops you as you race through the structures, dodging rocks and leaning with the movements. You don’t know how long it’s been by the time you begin to make your way back to the camp, but the suns are lower and sinking fast.

A medium sized fire is burning and there’s a small lean to next to it, blankets spread out under the cover. Mando is waiting for you when you arrive, his hands clasped behind his back and in the dim, soft light, you can’t help but gawk at him. Even with pounds of Beskar on, you’re struck by how handsome he is, though you’ve never seen your face. Smiling sadly as you dismount, you wonder if you ever will.

“How was it?” His question holds the smallest amount of amusement as he leads you to the blankets, sitting down with you and pulling you into him, tossing the blaster in your belt to the side. “You must be starving.”

Taking the food he hands you, and watching in awe as he lifts his helmet enough to eat without hesitation, the realization of how much he trusts you strikes you suddenly. “It was gorgeous Mando. Thank you.” You lay your hand on the Beskar on his thigh, wishing you could feel his warmth. The rest of the meal passes in pleasant silence, his helmet coming down soon after and before you both settle back to look up at the stars. “Can you identify them? With the helmet?”

His body shakes with a silent chuckle, “No, but my father taught me a lot of the constellations when I was a boy.” He points some of them out, drawing the shapes with his fingertip as you watch from his side, stricken by the sky. His fingers gesture towards the moon, pointing at each one, “That’s Ghomrassen, Guermessa and the last one is Chenini. Do you see the cloud over us?” He waits for your confirmation before whispering, “Ibac cuyir te ka’ra.”

“The whole galaxy?” Mando’a lacks a word for galaxy, but you recognize the context in which he uses stars and look at him, only to find him already looking at you.

“Part of it, yes.” You gaze at each other for a few moments before reaching up to cup the side of his helmet, making no movement to remove it and he flinches until realizing it’s not your attention.

“I need to tell you something,” you push the words out before you can think twice. “About before.”

“Before..?” You’ve never heard him seem so confused and it shocks you before elaborating.

“Ner oyay.” My life.

He only nods as you remove your hand, turning to look into the flames. Taking a deep breath, you begin.

“When I was very young, you know that my home on Nevarro was ambushed during the Clone Wars. The attack wiped out everyone, except me for all I can remember. I remember being put into a cellar with the little boy I used to play with, but he was taken from me and I continued to hide, afraid of the explosions I could hear; the screams were deafening. I waited for hours, too afraid to move from behind the boxes in the dark.

“When Teckla finally found me, I was too terrified to speak to her. She carried me through the rubble and she did her best to shield me from seeing-“ you break off abruptly, sucking in a quick breath and trying to calm your nerves. When you start again, you make extra effort to slow down. “She did her best, but I still saw everything. My parents never even made it away from the cellar.

“I didn’t talk to her for over a year. She tried so hard to fix things for me, take me in and love me but I wouldn’t let her for so long. Even her last words and her last actions were trying to protect me-“ a sob escapes from your throat, and you shakily wipe tears away from your face, not even realizing you had been crying. You can’t bear to look at him, but you feel his gaze on you as his arm tightens around your waist. “A group of Quarrens attacked our hut in the middle of the night, lighting our house and our neighbors’ on fire. Teckla forced me out of it before I even knew what was going on, but by the time I got to the speeder, it was too late and they killed her right in front of me before shooting at the engine. When I crashed, I vaguely knew what was coming. I had heard the stories.

“As the guy slammed me up against the building, there were screams around me, but I wasn’t strong enough to pull away to help. I wasn’t strong enough to fight. So he took me, multiple times as I watched helplessly as people died and women were raped. At some point, I think I lost consciousness, either from the pain or just out of sheer panic. I woke up in a hut surrounded by other women, all of us were bloodied and out of it. No one knew where we were.

“I honestly don’t know how long I was there. I just remember the pain,” you take another shaky breath, the tears still rolling down your cheeks but he doesn’t move. “Eventually I was moved to the encampment but I didn’t realize at first that I wasn’t going to be abused anymore. All I saw were these men trading me for money. It was probably the best thing to happen to me at that point though, but I was so weak that I couldn’t fight at first. For weeks, I dealt with verbal abuse as I tried to get better, at least well enough to be in the arena. Part of me knew it would get worse if I didn’t figure out how to get in there.”

You laugh a humorless laugh, “Red is actually the one who helped.”

He spoke so softly you barely heard him, “Red?”

“The bounty you went back for. She’s the only one that stayed the same over the years. Even though she was horrible, she was the only one who I knew through it. She saved me in some ways.” Gazing into the flames, you huff, “Dank Farrick. How messed up is that?”

Making no move to leave your side, he stares at you quietly. You wish you could see his eyes. “Say something,” you whisper, suddenly afraid of his silence and what it might mean. You curse yourself, terrified of the repercussions of giving him this information.

His next words bring new tears to your eyes, “Cyare, gar cuyir cuyan.”

Beloved, you are a survivor.

[bellezaparatodos]

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[enz-fan]

Special performance 7 January 1984 in Neil and Tim’s hometown.

ENZ: Te Awamutu

It’s obviously a very special occasion for Te Awamutu. A large sign in the main street proclaims the town’s centenary and the biggest lettering on it is SPLIT ENZ. (”Tickets from Guy’s Bookshop or Martin’s Refrigeration.”)

There’s an air of good-humoured expectation as the crowds trail into Albert Park, the town’s main rugby ground. Mostly it’s groups of young people but their mothers and fathers are also scattered here and there.

“Our husbands are here making hot dogs so we thought we’d come along as well,” chatters one of a group of women outside the gate. Lions Club food caravans dot the fenceline - the whole thing has very much the air of a community project.

No one’s taking any chances, it seems, and as well as the omnipresent men in white coats there’s a healthy number of police and security guards of at least three separate hues. It all seems a bit much for such a well-behaved crowd.

Herbs begin a little uncertainly, perhaps aware that the Enz are not so much the main act as an incarnation of municipal pride. They finish with warmth and good humours, however.

“You’ll be sorry afterwards,” grins Willie Hona after a well intentioned toilet roll sails over the stage during the closing song.

The wait before the main event seems inordinate and the crowd becomes a little restive. Why is it taking so long?

When Te Awamutu’s mayor comes on stage to make a speech before the performance there’s a chorus of booing which is immediately answered by cheering and the two factions continue to bounce noise off each other throughout the brief speech. The grey-haired mayor looks a little bemused at all the racket but soldiers on.

“They’ve had success all over the world but they’ve never forgotten where they came from...”

The lights dim and a shanty pipes out of the speakers, Tim Finn singing. “I was born in London town” becomes “I was born in Te Awamutu”, there’s a brief offstage intro from Tim and they’re onstage in a burst of light.

What follows is genuinely warm and warmly genuine. The night is full of local references - Tim stirs rivalry between the town’s two main rugby clubs, St Pat’s and Old Boys. Members of a local Maori culture club perform a haka onstage during ‘Kia Kaha’ - very effective but they’re whisked off too soon.

The night belongs more to Tim than brother Neil. He strides the stage, constantly talking to the crowd, the compere of a vaudeville show.

The highlights? ‘My Mistake’, ‘One Step Ahead’, Tim’s surprisinglly good ‘Dock of the Bay’ and, of course, the singalong ‘I Got You’.

Two encores, a bow and a thank you later it’s all over. A very special Enz performance, a piece of natural showbiz that broke clear of the scriptedness and uptightness that has marred their shows in the last two or three years.

Backstage afterwards the band members mingle, talking to everyone who wants to talk to them. It’s very much a local occasion and us out-of-towners sit quietly.

Soon it’s time to head back to Auckland and, barely able to keep my eyes open, I settle down to sleep in the back of the van.

I’m sure there was a smile on my face as I drifted away.

Russell Brown

[vitimestoday]

Công an tỉnh Thừa Thiên - Huế vừa tống đạt quyết định khởi tố, bắt tạm giam Giám đốc và 1 Phó Giám đốc Cảng hàng không...

[wellingtonnz]

Hue te Taka peninsula, off Moa Point, taken from View Rd above Lyall Bay

[vietnamenespanol]

☀🌥☔⚡Clima de Vietnam en Enero 🗓 Enero es entre todos el mes más frío ❄ en el norte de Vietnam, incluido Hanoi y Halong Bay pero sobretodo en Sapa y las zonas de montaña. La temperatura puede bajar hasta los 10 grados 🌡 , pero mucha gente dice que la sensación térmica es como en zonas de nieve. Trae ropa de abrigo y consulta las previsiones meteorológicas con unos días de antelación y si puedes contacta en las redes sociales con otros viajeros para comprobar que clima está haciendo. A medida que vamos hacia el Sur, el clima se vuelve más cálido. En Danang y Hue la temporada de lluvias termina con unas temperaturas entre los 16 y los 21 grados. En Ho Chi Minh City es la mitad de la temporada seca y hay sol hasta las 6 e incluso las 7 de la tarde cada día. Sin lugar a duda, Enero es uno de los mejores meses para visitar esta ciudad 🏙 Que te encontrarás si viajas a Vietnam 🇻🇳 en Enero? Qué mejor forma de empezar el año que un viaje a Vietnam? Enero es un mes para celebrar, comenzando con nuestro año nuevo el dia 1. No obstante , no está tan extendido como el año nuevo lunar (TET), pero aún y así vale la pena ver como se celebra en esta parte del mundo. A medida que se acercan las fechas 🗓 del TET (fin de año Vietnamita/Lunar 🎑 )25 de enero 2020 todo el mundo se prepara para terminar sus trabajos y recibir sus pagas extras 💵 para las compras. Es como la preparación de nuestra Navidad 🤶 pero en vez de ver abetos 🎄 navideños, lo que veremos son árboles de naranjas chinas y de flores 💐 de melocotón 🍑 . Así este es el mes por excelencia para hacer compras ya que encontraremos rebajas en tiendas y centros comerciales. Es muy posible que desde el día 22 al día 30 tengáis dificultad para encontrar alojamiento y transporte , así que es muy recomendable planificarlo con días o incluso un par de semanas antes para evitar quedaros sin forma de desplazaros ya que a mayoría de familias viaja entre ciudades para visitar a la familia durante esta semana. La mayoría de servicios públicos están cerrados el día 1 del año lunar, pero tanto hoteles como restaurantes permanecen abiertos. Más información en: Elvietnamita.com https://www.instagram.com/p/B7CyDAGBQqA/?igshid=rbnc9akmoipg

[junker-town]

How all 32 NFL teams rank at the tight end position

Travis Kelce and George Kittle are top-five units on their own — but not No. 1.

This is the final piece in our four-part series about offensive position groups in the NFL. Part 1 is on backup quarterbacks, Part 2 is running backs, and Part 3 is wide receivers.

For nine years, the Patriots deployed Rob Gronkowski as their defense-breaking tight end. He was a physical marvel who could patch over any lapses in the wide receiver depth chart while clearing the path for his team’s tailbacks as a linebacker-negating blocker. But Gronk is gone, retired to a world where he can spend 12 months per year devising the perfect party bus instead of his typical seven.

In his stead is a player New England originally drafted in 2004, a former Buccaneers second-round bust (nope, he was released days after this article went up), and a handful of former undrafted free agents. As a result, the Patriots have one of the worst tight end lineups in the NFL.

Just not the worst.

The Patriots sunk to the bottom of this year’s tight end rankings without their fearless sequel to Air Bud: Golden Retriever in the lineup, but haven’t fallen to dead last thanks to a pair of rebuilding clubs. That helped create room for potential contenders and rising teams to move to the top of the list. The Colts, with a pair of Pro Bowl bookends in their 22 formation, lead this year’s tight end rankings thanks to their strength and depth. But singular game-changing talents were enough to push the Chiefs and 49ers into the top five at a position where star power is limited and one man can make an entire depth chart.

And also, the Buccaneers, who aren’t contenders and are only rising if you squint hard enough at their roster to defocus your eyes, are up there too. Huh.

2019’s top five tight end groups

1. Indianapolis Colts

Primary tight ends: Eric Ebron, Jack Doyle, Mo Alie-Cox

If Ebron’s potential-realizing 2018 holds true, Andrew Luck will have one of the league’s biggest scoring threats atop his tight end depth chart and another recent Pro Bowler — Doyle — right behind him. Ebron finally broke through last year, even though drops and a poor catch rate (only 60 percent) didn’t make him statistically that different than his underwhelming run in Detroit.

Doyle is a staple in the Indianapolis run game who emerged as an above-average starter in 2017. He missed 10 games last season due to injury, but his 77 percent career catch rate shows how reliable he can be alongside Luck. Getting both these guys at the top of their games is the Colts’ main response to a WR corps that for years has been T.Y. Hilton and few other standouts.

2. Philadelphia Eagles

Primary tight ends: Zach Ertz, Dallas Goedert, Richard Rodgers

Ertz is a 28-year-old Pro Bowler who set career highs in catches (116), receiving yards (1,163), and catch rate (74.4 percent) last season. Goedert didn’t need much time to adjust to the league even after playing his college ball at South Dakota State, grading out as one of league’s best run blockers at his position. After hauling in 33 catches and four touchdowns, he’s capable of filling the gaps others leave behind if they focus too hard on Ertz. Rodgers is a useful depth option and special teamer who can catch the hell out of a Hail Mary.

3. San Francisco 49ers

Primary tight ends: George Kittle, Garrett Celek, Kaden Smith

Kittle was great at pretty much anything he was asked to do for the Niners, excelling despite catching passes from three different starters in his second season as a pro. His 1,377 receiving yards in 2018 were the most ever by a tight end, and he also cleared a path for one of the league’s most dynamic rushing attacks by sealing off the edge effectively as a blocker. Smith and Celek don’t offer as much behind him, but the former Iowa Hawkeye was destructive enough last fall to push San Francisco into the top five on his own.

4. Kansas City Chiefs

Primary tight ends: Travis Kelce, Blake Bell, David Wells

Like the 49ers, the Chiefs are mostly a one-man show — but it’s one hell of a show. Kelce proved a perfect complement to Patrick Mahomes’ improvisation-heavy style, using his athleticism to post career bests in receptions (103), receiving yards (1,336), and touchdowns (10). Wells and Bell have 30 career NFL catches between them, but they’ll each get the opportunity to add to that total now that Demetrius Harris has left Missouri for a spot in our No. 6 TE rotation.

5. Tampa Bay Buccaneers

Primary tight ends: O.J. Howard, Cameron Brate, Antony Auclair

Howard is a mismatch creator who averaged nearly 12 yards per target last season and could be inching toward a true breakout in his third year in the league. Brate is still chasing his breakout 2016, but he remains a valued red zone target after tallying 20 touchdowns the past three seasons. They’ll each get more looks as part of a receiving lineup that features Mike Evans and little else.

Honorable mention: No. 6 Cleveland Browns

Primary tight ends: David Njoku, Seth DeValve, Demetrius Harris

Baker Mayfield loves to spread the ball to his tight ends. He formed an All-Big 12 connection with Mark Andrews at Oklahoma and rode David Njoku to nearly 14 yards per catch after Hue Jackson’s midseason firing. Now he’ll get Njoku, prepped for a third-season leap, along with Seth DeValve and Demetrius Harris — the former Division I basketball player Kansas City developed into an occasional weapon at tight end.

Cleveland will have several different looks to throw at opponents this fall, so expect head coach Freddie Kitchens to get a little unorthodox with his tight ends in 2019. I really, really like what the Browns are doing here ... just not enough to slide them into the top five.

2019’s bottom five tight end groups

28. Houston Texans

Primary tight ends: Jordan Thomas, Jordan Akins, Kahale Warring

Houston’s top tight end last year, Ryan Griffin, had only 24 catches. Since then, he was arrested for punching a hotel window and released not long after. That leaves two 2018 draftees, 2019 third-round pick Warring, and veteran blocker Darren Fells to step into the void and give Deshaun Watson a little extra aerial support. The Texans have the room to outperform expectations, but there’s not much proven experience here.

29. Jacksonville Jaguars

Primary tight ends: Geoff Swaim, Josh Oliver, Ben Koyack

Nick Foles is going from one of the league’s best tight end tandems to one of its worst. He should be concerned. The Jaguars will be relying on rookie third-round pick Oliver to overdeliver after one solid season at San Jose State.

30. Arizona Cardinals

Primary tight ends: Ricky Seals-Jones, Charles Clay, Maxx Williams

Kliff Kingsbury will be leaning hard on Seals-Jones, a high-upside, low-floor tight end who has yet to finish an NFL season having caught more than half his targets. He’ll have the chance to show out in his rookie head coach’s spread offense, and he should emerge as the team’s TE1; Clay isn’t the threat he once was and Williams is looking like a former second-round prospect who never will be.

31. New England Patriots

Primary tight ends: Ben Watson, Matt LaCosse, Michael Roberts

Even a 60 percent Rob Gronkowski would be a significant upgrade over the Pats’ current tight end lineup. Watson will turn 39 years old this season and will serve a four-game suspension to start the year. Austin Seferian-Jenkins lasted approximately two months with the team before being released in June. LaCosse has started six games in his four-year career, while Izzo is a seventh-round pick who has yet to play an NFL snap. New addition Michael Roberts has 13 career NFL receptions

32. Oakland Raiders

Primary tight ends: Luke Willson, Derek Carrier, Foster Moreau

Jon Gruden went all-out upgrading his wide receivers by adding Antonio Brown, Tyrell Williams, and J.J. Nelson to his lineup. That left his tight ends to languish. Willson and Carrier are useful blockers, while rookie Day 3 pick Moreau could work his way into some targets — though he wasn’t especially prolific in his four years at LSU (629 career receiving yards).

Looking for the full rankings? Here you go. Keep in mind these listings don’t represent actual depth charts — and that due to injury concerns and the uncertainness of young prospects, there’s a lot of wiggle room among the middle teams in this year’s lineup.

[yachtingboat]

Destination Focus: From Peaks to Beach in Croatia

Destination Focus: From Peaks to Beach in Croatia

If for you, as with many yachters, the summer months herald the irresistible call of the Mediterranean, why not consider Croatia? Chartering this Adriatic paradise can make summer cruising dreams of emerald waters shadowed by ancient cities a reality. M/Y The Wellesley (with TWW Yachting), Meamina (with Burgess) and Rosehearty (with Perini Navi USA), to name a few, will soon be heading to this mesmerising part of the world.

Croatia’s island-speckled coastline makes it the perfect destination to explore by superyacht. Here, the sea sparkles with jewel-like intensity under the Mediterranean sun, lapping at secluded pockets of beach. The best reside along Makarska Riviera, where you will find miles of sequestered coast lined with fig trees and olive groves.

Rocky seabeds provide astounding underwater visibility, and has made the region famous for astounding ‘in situ’ (on site) museums, including ancient shipwrecks such as Baron Gautsch off the coast of Rovinj, or Taranto near Dubrovnik. Not to be outdone, natural aquatic splendours include Te Vega Sea Lake, which is reachable only by underwater tunnel, and Bisevo Cave near the island of Vis, whose bright blue hue has to be seen to be believed. 

Croatia is the ideal nautical destination, with the discovery of lavender-scented bays and olive grove-studded islets easily accessible by superyacht, not to mention the irresistible allure of soaking in the Adriatic.

Dragging your gaze from the green-tinged ocean, mainland Croatia is a fortress of natural and man-made wonders. The looming Dinaric Mountain Range hugs the majority of the coastline, carving out a landscape of contorted peaks, caverns and canyons from its limestone karst.

Inland, sublime peaks give way to rolling countryside. Vineyards criss-cross Dingač, Postup and Komarna, accompanied by wine cellars offering a plurality of gorgeous vintages from indigenous grape varieties.

And the country’s anthropological wonders are no less impressive. Croatia’s cities are crumbling mazes of ancient architecture that groan with historical ambience. Dubrovnik Old Town’s 16th century walls and the remains of Diocletian’s Palace in Split are particularly extraordinary.

Meanwhile, life on Croatian islands harkens back to a bygone era, with winding roads flanked by grazing livestock and elders playing ‘bocce’. Others exist at an accelerated pace of life, playing host to legendary 24-hour parties. The island of Brač is famed for its white stone topology and sumptuous delicacies of olive oil, sheep cheese and mandarins, whilst the sealocked Hvar is a popular playground for the rich and famous.

Between the beautiful beaches of Dalmatia, the fantastic food of Istria and the cruising idyll of the Adriatic, Croatia is a destination that will stay with you long after the Mediterranean summer ends.

Destination Focus: From Peaks to Beach in Croatia

Destination Focus: From Peaks to Beach in Croatia

Destination Focus: From Peaks to Beach in Croatia

Destination Focus: From Peaks to Beach in Croatia

Meamina

The Wellesley

Meamina

Rosehearty

Rosehearty