#hay hair extensions

[bluarabian]

Smootchy smoooooch!

Side note: Been playing LoZ Botw and it drives me nuts that Link slaps the reins when you ask the horse to go faster.

[fate-magical-girls]

The Varieties of Chinese Mermaids

In the modern day, most people will think of the pearl-crying Jiaoren. However JIAOREN IS NOT THE PERFECT EQUIVALENT OF THE MERMAID in pre-modern folklore.

Chinese mermaids come in multiple types. Most of them can be found in the Chronicle of the Mountains and the Seas (Shan Hai Jing/山海經). Others can be found in the In Search of the Supernatural (Sou Shen Ji/搜神記) or Extensive Records of the Taiping Era (Taiping Guangji/太平廣記).

YUFU/MER-WIFE (魚婦): Zhuanxu was a god-emperor in legendary times, whose accomplishments included sending two of his sons to complete the separation of Heaven and Earth. When he died, fish ate his corpse, becoming half fish and half human women. They live in the Great Wilderness toward the west of China. They combine traits of humans, fish, and snakes. The Classic of Mountains and the Seas states: "There is a fish half-withered, it is Zhuanxu that died and then revived; when the winds blow northward, the sky whips up great geysers, snakes transform into fish, and those are mer-wives."

LINGYU/HILL FISH (陵魚，鯪魚): The Lingyu lived in the northern regions of China, either in the sea or mountain streams. They have human faces and limbs, but fish bodies. They are identified with Chinese giant salamanders or mud carp in the modern day. The Classic of Mountains and Seas states: "The nation of Guye is in the sea, among the Guye mountain range, surrounded by peaks to the southwest. There are great crabs are in the sea. There are Lingyu, which have human heads, feet, and hands, in the sea."

CHIRU/RED RU FISH (赤鱬): The Chiru lived in mountain in the south of China. It was red all over, had a human face, and its call sounded like that of a shelduck or mandarin duck. Eating its flesh protected people from contracting scabies. They are identified with sockeye salmon in the modern day. The Classic of Mountains and Seas states: "Three hundred miles more to the east, there is the mountain called Blue Hill...The Ying Waters emerge from here. Within are many Chiru; their forms are like fish, yet they have human faces, and their cries are like that of a shelduck. Those that eat its flesh will never have scabies."

DIREN/DI PEOPLE (氐人): The nation of the Di People was in the South of China. They were human from the waist up and fish from the waist down. They might have been a mythologization of the real Di People, who lived in western China, spread out from Shaanxi to Gansu. They joined the confederation of nomadic peoples who conquered Northern China during the Sixteen Kingdoms period. The Baima people of Gansu believe themselves to be descended from the ancient Di. The Classic of the Mountains and Seas states: "The nation of the Di People is west of the Jianmu Tree. Its inhabitants have human faces but fish bodies, with no feet."

HAI RENYU/SEA MERMAID (海人魚): The Sea Mermaid lives in the East China Sea. They tend to be around five to six shaku tall. (4'7"-5'6" or 1.4-1.68 meters.) Their upper bodies were that of humans, and they were all very beautiful. Their skins were white as jade, and their tails had no scales, but were covered in fine rainbow-colored hairs. Their hair grew long and wild like horse manes. Their private organs were much like that of humans, and they often sought humans or were sought by humans as mates in coastal communities, where they would live in a pool on their spouse's property. Sometimes they had red feelers or fins on their elbows and backs. Their bodies could not be penetrated by blades, but their fats could be harvested after death to form ever-burning candles. Han Dynasty texts state: "Merfolk have a human-like form longer than one shaku. They are not fit for consumption. Their skins are rougher than those of sharks, and cannot be penetrated by saws. They have little holes on their neck that they breathe through...Their fat is used to light lamps in royal tombs because the fire will never extinguish." Extensive Records of the Taiping Era states: "Sea Mermaids are found in the Eastern Sea. The largest ones are five or six shaku long. They are shaped like humans, with the brows and eyes, mouths and noses, hands and fingers, and heads of beautiful women, lacking in no feature. Their flesh is white as jade, and they have no scales, but thin, soft, and sleek hairs of five colors about one or two inches in length. Their private organs were no different from those of ordinary men and women. Widows and widowers from coastal communities often acquire them and raise them in pools. They mate the same way humans do, and never harm humans."

LOTING YUREN/LOTING FISH-MEN (盧亭魚人): Loting Fish-Men were found in the south of China, mostly around the Guangdong, Macau, and Hong Kong regions. They had humanoid limbs and humanoid faces with yellow hair and yellow eyes, but scaly bodies with fish tails. They lived mostly in the water, feeding on fish, but also built houses from mussel shells, and their favorite snack was chicken blood. They were a mythologization of the Tanka People, a southern Chinese pariah class who were once forced to live on their boats, as well as the Semang People. Ming Dynasty texts state: "The Jin Dynasty rebel Lu Ting was defeated and fled into the Guangdong region, where he lived a fugitive life on the water. After some generations, his descendants were unable to procure food or clothes, so they went about bare bodied and were called Loting. They would often sail out on the sea fishing for food, and they could all lie underwater for three or four days without dying, for they had already become fish." Qing Dynasty texts state: "Among the merfolk are the Loting Fish-Men, who are very numerous on Dayushan Island and the Wanshan Islands. Their adults are like humans, with male and female. Their hairs are dusky yellow and short and their eyes are also yellow, while their faces are black. Their tails are around an inch long. When they encounter humans they dive fearfully into the water. Often they would float along the waves, which would amaze people, who would they chase them. When a man who acquired one their females did the dirty with her, the fish-woman could not speak, only giggle. After a long while, she learned to wear clothes and eat grains. She was brought to Dayushan, where she went back to the water. These are the merfolk who do not harm men."

JIAOREN/SAMEBITO/SHARK-MEN (鮫人): Jiaoren are found in the South Seas. THEY ARE MER-SHARKS. THEY HAVE INKY BLACK BODIES, WILD HAIR, GLOWING GREEN EYES, AND SHARP TEETH. They are usually employed by dragon gods as weavers, capable of working tirelessly and spinning special waterproof silks. Their tears became pearls. They were first equated to Western mermaids by modern fantasy writers romanticizing the fact that they cried pearls.

WA WA YU/KIDDO FISH (娃娃魚): The Chinese Giant Salamander was often called a "mer-person" in the Ming and Qing dynasties, and described having a cry that resembled a baby's wail. To this day the colloquial name is still "Kiddo Fish".

[nataliasquote]

Mustang | cowgirl nat au

Summary: The mayor’s daughter. A bounty hunter. One has freedom, the other does not. But will one fleeting night be enough to convince Natasha to leave everything she’s ever known behind?

Warnings: Natasha is a hot cowgirl, cowboy slang

wc: 4.3k

note: this is for all the cowgirl Nat simps out there (yes you know who you are @katyaromanoffpetrova ). And also for @milfs69420 who drew the inspiration for cowgirl Nat in this scene (i’m obsessed with that drawing no joke). I hope this lives up to expectations!

-⧗-

A loud yell echoed across the grassy plain, rising above the sound of thundering hooves and the distant shriek of a stream train whistle. One lone rider, racing across fields she knew like the back of her hand. Strong thighs squeezed the flanks of the midnight horse beneath her as she raised her arms above her head and tilted her face up to the sky, letting the golden rays of the sun soak into her skin. Not once did her balance falter, years of riding making her feel like an extension of the steed beneath her. Her cheeks started to burn with how hard she was smiling, so she placed both hands back on the reins and kicked her horse to speed up.

There really was nothing that Natasha loved more than riding. It was her escape, her outlet, her way of breaking away from her usual daily duties. Was she out on her horse a bit too often? Her father would say yes. But if there was one thing Natasha Romanoff hated, it was being told what to do.

She’d caught up with the train rolling steadily along the tracks and Natasha leaned forwards, scarlet hair, tied in a single braid, flying behind her from under her hat as she raced beside it, trying to keep up. She could feel the muscles of her horse flexing with every stride they took and the rusted green walls of the carriage were almost in reach of her fingertips if she stretched out towards it. The smoke puffing out of the chimney tainted the air that she breathed in, but she barely noticed it through her euphoria. She knew where this train was headed, towards the larger cities, so she broke away and turned back to her hometown, slowing up as they trotted under the town’s welcome sign.

Most walked their horses through the streets on foot, but Natasha stayed seated, guiding her horse through the swarms of townspeople and down to the large house at the end of the main street. She hopped down and tied him to the fence temporarily, making sure he had enough hay and water before she strolled into the house.

Not even bothering to take her boots off, Natasha waltzed into the kitchen and flopped down on a chair. She tossed her hat onto the table and let out a sigh, staring at the small red symbol on the front of her hat.

“Natasha,” a gruff voice called after her. She rolled her eyes. “Where the hell were you?”

“Out,” was all she replied. She didn’t turn around but could feel her father’s eyes boring into the back of her skull. And his disapproving tone was nothing she wasn’t familiar with.

“You were supposed to be home two hours ago, for the opening ceremony.” Without looking at him, she knew how he was standing. Arms folded across his chest as he took up almost the entire doorway. “Yelena was upset you weren’t there.”

Natasha scoffed. “No she wasn’t, she couldn’t care less.”

“I felt betrayed, actually.” Great, now her sister had joined in. “You’re always choosing Liho over me, don’t you feel my pain?”

“I’m sure you’ll live,” Natasha deadpanned, wanting nothing more than some peace and quiet.

But that was a rarity as the mayor’s daughter. Her whole life was scrutinized, and many people disapproved of her non-traditional ways. “Is there anything else required of me? Or can I leave now?”

Yelena appeared in the corner of her vision, leaning against the kitchen countertop. “Well, I was going to ask if you would come by the range, seeing as you-“

“Ok, so that’s a no.”

“Natasha, be nice to her please. It’s Yelena’s big day!” Alexei’s voice seemed to be in constant ‘public speaker’ mode, which was fine for pretty much everything except quiet conversations in the kitchen. He was too close, and Natasha scraped her chair back and reached for a glass to fill up from the pitcher of sweet tea on the table. Reluctantly, she offered one to Yelena, who accepted with a soft smile. Alexei took their ignorance of his statement to disappear back to his office, and Natasha breathed a small sigh of relief.

“I knew you liked me really.” Natasha deadpanned her comment but Yelena only stifled her giggle behind a sip, the sweet beverage coating her tastebuds deliciously. “I’m not mad, it’s fine. But promise me you’ll shoot this week?”

“I was planning to anyway,” Natasha admitted. “Do you have riding targets too?”

Yelena let out a ‘ha’ and leaned back in her chair, chin tilted towards the window. “What do you take me for, an amateur? That’s like asking if Barton sells beer.”

“Speaking of, fancy a drink?” Yelena gestured to her half full glass with an eyebrow raised. “I was going to go down to Barton’s if you want to join me?”

Yelena thought for a moment, watching a lone ice cube float around her glass. “I would, but I promised Kate I’d meet her at the stables and you know what she’s like if I cancel on her.”

“Suit yourself,” said Natasha. Ok, so maybe she did feel a little remorse over missing the ceremony, but never would she admit that out loud. “I’ll see you later. Oh, and tell Ma to not wait up for me at dinner. I’ll sort myself out.”

“Roger that,” Yelena gave a mock salute and Natasha just rolled her eyes in jest. She grabbed her hat, slipped it on her head and wandered back out of the door, but not before she slipped a few snacks for her horse. Liho was still waiting patiently for her and he swished his tail as he approached, rather fed up of just standing around in the sun.

As Natasha brushed him down and gave the stable a quick tidy, her mind wandered back to the open grassland. What she’d give to never return home, just riding to her heart's content and staying in whatever town she came across. Or just sleeping under the stars, listening to the howls of the coyotes and the thundering hooves of wild horses echoing behind the mountains on the horizon. She craved the freedom that the cowboys had and the small taste she could get would never suffice; she lusted for more.

With a small threat to Peter, the stablehand, to not hurt Liho, Natasha wandered back into the town centre, stopping off at the ammunition store on her way for a magazine refill. She shot the test targets to pieces purely for the fun of it, knowing her aim was impeccable. The owner just rolled his eyes but let her continue; this behaviour was expected. After all, Alexei was a well respected and slightly feared man, which rubbed off onto his daughters too. And Natasha’s fiery temperament was almost as famous as her father was. No one with any brains would ever challenge her to a duel if they wanted to keep their life.

The redhead’s eyes cast over the centre-most building, the brim of her hat concealing the sign on the front. But she didn’t need words to tell her what it was- she knew her second favourite place like the back of her hand. The heels of her boots clicked against the tiled floor as she pushed the wooden saloon doors to swing open, hitting the walls beside them with a crack.

With her hat still dipped low, she paused, surveying the entirety of the room in one fast sweep. Partially content with what she saw, Natasha tipped her hat from her head and tucked it under her arm, feeling strands from her messy braid to fall and frame her face. Green eyes darted across every familiar face, occasionally leading to the subtle tug of a smile to play on her lips if she felt particularly fond of someone, but not many had that blessing. She didn’t pay two minds to the rest of the townspeople once she’d locked on the one person who didn’t think she was completely crazy.

Wild yet utterly desirable, Natasha somehow held every single person captive within her presence. The general chattering subsided as she moved between the tables, even the men who spent their days airing their lungs over bottles of brandy and rum paused their drinking to take a good look at her. If Natasha even cared, she’d be repulsed, but noticing the way the men of the town looked at her had become a thing of the past. She would never settle down so why bother?

The red velvet-topped bar stools were smooth under her jeans as Natasha slid onto one, her hat coming to rest atop the wooden bar. She unbuttoned the cuffs of her green plaid shirt and rolled her sleeves up to her elbows, exposing her forearms with a sigh.

“Didn’t see you at Yelena’s gun range opening today,” the bartender commented as he slid an open bottle of beer in Natasha’s direction. He knew her well, and he should, as her childhood best friend. And Natasha may be unpredictable but her beer choices never wavered.

“Oh don’t tell me you were there too. I swear, if one more person asks me about that I’m going to put a bullet in someone’s head.” Her hand fell to her holster for effect, making the bartender step back, hands raised in surrender. Natasha rolled her eyes and smirked before taking a sip of her beer. “My Pa gave me an earful when I was barely through the door. I don’t see why it matters, Barton, it’s just an opening.”

Clint threw the tea towel he was holding into the sink over his shoulder. “I’m just talking, but she’s your sister, so isn’t it in your duties to go to that kind of thing?”

Natasha shot him an unimpressed look, her brow bone casting a shadow across her eyes in the dim light. “You mean that as her sister, or as the mayor’s daughter? I plan on using the range anyway, so why do I need to show my face now? It’s not even about me.” She puffed out her cheeks and rested her chin on the hand that was placed on the beer bottle rim. “If I was Lena, I’d be happy my sister didn’t show up. She can have the spotlight for a change.”

“Where did you go, exactly?” Clint was the only one who would listen to Natasha’s tales, so he just let her talk whilst he worked. Gave him something refreshing to think about instead of his unruly customers.

“I caught wind of a new group riding out by the Ridge yesterday, so I wanted to check it out. Saw nothing but Ol’ Joe moving his cattle. Swear that man digs for his cannon ev’ry chance he gets.”

“Well, he’s not the best with people,” said Clint, only realising afterwards that he’d just stated the obvious. “Is that what you want though? A group like that?”

Natasha pursed her lips. She hadn’t thought through the logistics of what her future looked like, she knew it involved a lot more open space and a lot less… people. “Not a group, I couldn’t handle that.”

“Nat, you know it’s not safe out there on your own. You need your home, a family.” Clint was family orientated to the core, but the same couldn’t be said for Natasha. “You know it’s even worse for women.”

“I can handle myself,” Natasha scoffed, feeling rather put out by his insinuation. “I don’t need a bunch of asshat guys telling me what to do!

“I know, but-“

“If I wanted an argument, I would have stayed at home,” she pointed out. Clint’s mouth opened before he closed it with a huff, thinking better than to protest again. Natasha’s hands tugged her hair out of her braid, reveling in the feeling of it falling loose around her shoulders.

She chewed on her lip, trying to suppress the anxious feeling bubbling low in her stomach. With each passing day, the small town life rattled her and the walls of the village seemed to close in. It had taken root in her chest since she was a child, that feeling of longing never quite subsiding.

Clint moved off to serve customers further down the bar, leaving the redhead lost in her own mind. Slender fingers tapped rhythmically on the glass bottle.

What did she want? Natasha knew how her dreams played out, but Clint was right; where was her stability? The thought of being alone was heavenly, but that was coming from someone who had never truly experienced it. She’d been surrounded by people since the day she was born, and those fleeting moments of freedom with just Liho for company were the best she’d felt.

But what did a future full of that entail? She’d idealised it to the point where she was biased, getting defensive whenever anyone tried to make her see sense. She may not see eye to eye with her father anymore, but the stubbornness she inherited from him was a clear determiner of her roots and more importantly, her home.

A cacophony of whistles erupted from the tables behind her, snapping her out of her spiral and Natasha turned on her stool to take a look at the source of the commotion. A woman stood in the doorway, dressed similarly to Natasha, which was rather uncommon in this town. Most of the women wore skirts, so seeing another in jeans that wasn’t Natasha, Yelena or Kate had heads turning.

Natasha watched the way the stranger’s hand instinctively flew to her holster as her eyes adjusted to the darkened room, a bitter contrast to the sun blazed street just outside. The saloon was always kept dark, just the way Natasha liked it, but it did look a bit intimidating from an outsider’s perspective.

Ignoring the outstretched hands of drunk men that grabbed at her from their seats at the closest tables, the woman picked her way through the crowd, her hips swaying in her jeans and brown fringed chaps as she rounded the final table and slumped down onto a stool. Natasha peered at Clint out of the corner of her eye and tried to hide her smile, taking a long sip of her beer bottle as the stranger sat four seats over.

“What’s the strongest stuff you’ve got?” The stranger asked Clint, her hat still sat squarely on her head. A strange move in Natasha’s eyes, but it added to the air of mystery around her and the redhead couldn’t help but watch her reflection in the glass opposite.

“I’ve got a couple bottles of whiskey if that’s what you’re after?”

“I’ll get a glass of that, thanks.”

Natasha pulled a face, impressed. “Going for the hard stuff, I see.”

The stranger didn’t turn her head, keeping her eyes down and focussed on her hands that rested atop the bar. “Something like that.”

There was something different about her, something refreshing. Natasha stood up, grabbed her beer bottle and wandered down the bar, now appearing on the seat beside the stranger. She leaned on the bar, one leg crossed over the other, accentuating the curve of her hips in her jeans. The stranger’s head moved slightly, trying to get the best view of Natasha that she could.

Clint read his friend’s body language like he was fluent, and quickly swapped her bottles so she was presented with a fresh drink. Natasha waited a couple of seconds before striking up conversation again, not put out by the stranger’s lack of enthusiasm.

“Is this seat taken?”

The stranger shook her head and scooted over, nursing her glass of whiskey with both hands. She was nervous and guarded and Natasha saw the twitch of her fingers that seemed uncontrollable.

“I’ve not seen you before. You not from around here?” Her southern drawl was laid on thick, emphasising the rasp in her voice that came out when she spoke properly. Natasha’s skill set didn’t stop at shooting. She was incredibly proficient at flirting and Clint loved to just stand back and watch her pick her next target that wandered into his bar.

The stranger finally turned to Natasha and lifted her hat from her head, revealing her face and piercing eyes that bore into Natasha’s. “Is it that obvious I’m not from around here?”

Natasha laughed around the rim of her bottle and readjusted her stance, using her movement as a way to take in the woman with a quick flick up and down. “I know my people,” she replied, gesturing to the full tables behind them. Her eyes fell to the stranger’s lips. “And I’d remember a face like yours, darlin’.”

The mysterious woman’s cheeks flushed red and she took a swig of whiskey, welcoming the burn that flooded her chest. The hot feeling racing through her body was purely alcohol induced… wasn’t it?

The brunette ducked her head down, embarrassed. “I’m only passing through. Had to stop off at the stables to get my horse’s hooves checked. Ran across a thorn patch, she did.”

“Well, Bishops’ will take good care of her. And in the meantime, does the gorgeous woman have a pretty name to match?”

Whiskey was by far the best choice she could have made- it could account for the now permanent flush that took residence in her cheeks. The woman turned on her stool and let her knees fall open loosely, her body language much less guarded.

“I’m Y/n. And you are..?”

“Natasha Romanoff, at your service.” The redhead quickly put her hat on and tipped it forwards, eliciting a laugh from the woman opposite. Clint eyed their interaction as he dried some glasses, grinning to himself at how effective Natasha’s charm truly was. She turned it on with the tip of her hat and a flash of her smile, making men and women alike stop dread in their tracks.

“You’re the mayor’s daughter?” Something flashed across Y/n’s eyes but it was gone as quickly as it came and Natasha couldn’t decipher it.

“Yeah,” she trailed off, frowning slightly. “Is that a bad thing?”

“Not at all,” Y/n gave her a smile, nodding to the stool beside her. Natasha sat far too quickly, like an obedient dog. One glance from a gorgeous woman had turned her to mush- what was happening?

A couple of loud thuds resonated from the back of the room and Natasha rolled her eyes, knowing exactly who sat there regularly. “Hey, Romanoff, give us a dance, will ya?” A leering voice echoed above the general hum of conversation and Y/n watched as Natasha rolled her eyes and adjusted her gun that sat in a holster on her hip.

“Give it up, Stark, you’re barking at a knot.” The man in question jeered at her and banged his beer bottle on the barrel table, several men around him doing the same. “If you wanna watch me dance, you better pay me for it.” This only gained her more nonsensical yelling and a man on Stark’s table threw a dollar bill in her direction.

But Natasha just stood up, squared her shoulders and fired her handgun in their direction, the bullet slamming into the wall mere inches above Stark’s head. She blew the smoke off her gun with a cocky smirk and shoved it back in the holster. The entire saloon fell silent, aside from Clint’s mutterings about yet another hole to fix thanks to his fiery friend.

Natasha waited a second longer, almost daring Stark and his guys to test her again. But they didn’t, now only watching her warily as she turned back to her new woman who was watching with a slack jaw. Natasha felt a burst of pride surge through her chest and she puffed it out slightly, sinking down into her seat with one foot up on the footrest, her legs manspreading.

“I’m sorry about that, that was no way to treat a new lady.”

Y/n snickered, shaking her head. “Oh please, I ain’t a lady. I’ve seen worse men than that in towns over, they really never change.”

Natasha’s gaze had drifted to the way the brunette’s hair fell over her shoulder, and how soft it looked despite being so exposed to the elements. But at the mention of different towns she snapped, eyes wide.

“You’ve visited other towns?” She tried to keep her cool, but there was truly no hiding her excitement. This woman had everything Natasha wanted and more.

“I’m a bounty hunter,” she admitted, watching Natasha’s face change. “But I ain’t got much work at the moment. There’s not many people that trust a woman to do what a man can do.”

“So you’re just… floating between towns?”

Y/n nodded, taking a sip of her whiskey. “Yup, it’s just me and my girl. And the occasional over-friendly landlord who tries to get up in my business.”

Natasha’s mind was racing like a mustang. She felt almost childish, wanting to hear stories of her travels and what the world was really like. Y/n could see her curiosity, it was too apparent to mask, and it was like a breath of fresh air. All too often she was met with disapproving glances and was often the butt of circulating gossip, housewives and prostitutes judging her uncommon way of life. But she was happy, and no one was about to take that away from her.

“Where are you from?”

Y/n’s smile faltered and she traced the rim of her now empty whisky glass. “I don’t think about that. Doesn’t matter where I’m from, I’m never going back. There’s nothing for me there. My life is out here now.”

“I wish,” Natasha muttered, more to herself than anyone else. Y/n heard it but didn’t comment. After all, they were just two strangers in a bar, nothing more.

“So, if you’re the mayor’s girl, you must know what there is to do around here.” Her words had an element of teasing to them, which didn’t go unnoticed by Natasha.

Natasha shook her head with a laugh. Ten minutes in and already poking fun at who she was. Why was that so attractive? “There’s a barn dance later if you want to come?” Natasha suggested. “That is, if you’re sticking around for that long.”

“I’ve got a compelling reason to now,” Y/n teased, toying with the hints Natasha had been sending her way.

Natasha quirked her brow and raised an arm behind her head, her bicep flexing slightly under her scrunched up shirt sleeves. “Well, I never turn down the chance to take a pretty girl to a dance.”

“Sounds like you have experience.”

Natasha narrowed her eyes in playful accusation “Is that a problem to you?”

“Not at all. I like a woman who knows what she’s doing.” Her words were heavy and even Clint raised his eyebrows, having been listening in to their conversation whilst he polished glasses.

“Then you’re in for a real treat, darlin’.” Natasha held eye contact and took a swig of her beer, licking her lip as a drop escaped. Y/n stared back at her and then coughed, using that as her excuse to look away. Anyone could feel the air shift and Clint walked away, shaking his head with a smile. God, Natasha certainly knew how to play this game.

“Where did you say you were staying?” Natasha continued, probing yet more information out of the poor woman.

“Here, actually,” Y/n answered, gesturing towards the door that led to the small assortment of lodgings that the saloon housed “ ‘S the only place willing to take someone like me.”

“Barton!” The man in question looked around guiltily. “Keeping things from me now, are we?”

“You were out! When was I gonna tell ya?”

Natasha grunted and jutted her chin out at him, furious that he’d watched their interaction knowing exactly who this woman was. And Y/n found the whole ordeal rather funny, having made the connection that they knew each other a little while ago.

“Well, if you’re stayin’ here, I know where to pick you up later.”

“Inviting me to a dance and picking me up? Do all foreign girls get this treatment from you?”

Natasha winked coyly, sliding her hat along the bar where she’d left it. “Only the special ones.”

“Oh you’re flannel-mouthed!” Y/n exclaimed, to which Natasha only shrugged cockily. “I’ll be waitin’. Right here, so don’t be late.”

“Roger that,” Natasha responded, mimicking Yelena from earlier. She stood up with a flourish, placed her hat on her head and took Y/n’s hand to place a kiss on the back of it, treating her like a proper lady. Clint wolf whistled her, receiving an insult thrown his way before Natasha had disappeared back through the doors she’d come through, leaving them swinging back and forth with the momentum.

“She’s a wild one, watch out.” Clint nodded after the redhead, silently laughing to himself at her dramatics. Always one for the exits, she was.

But Y/n didn’t even notice his amusement. She was gazing at the gunshot hole left in the wall across the room, and more specifically, thinking about the woman that put it there.

“The wilder the better, I always say,” was all she replied, her mind now miles away. Sure, she said that about horses, but Y/n was starting to think that applied to the women she surrounded herself with too.

[princessbrunette]

hai!!!! just curious, because ik everyone kinda has their own definitions when it comes to different kinds of readers, what do you describe puppy/kitty/bunny/deer!reader as? what makes them them?

anyway, luv ya n all that ya do- ,,^-^,,

ooo fun question !! ໒꒰ྀིᵔ ³ ᵔ ꒱ྀིა

BUNNY:

she was born for the soft life. a highly organised system in her closet, and a whole separate closet just for shoes. she’s not bratty, she doesn’t even know what being bratty is or how to do it, but there are of course times she starts thumping her foot, whining and pulling at rafes clothes. this petulant behaviour is often solved by a stern look, a tap on the cheek or a reach under the skirt to tug at her fluffy bunny butt plug. her nose twitches when she’s upset, and has a big toothy grin when she’s happy. she leaves the glitter from her body all over rafe’s clothes, mink eyelash extensions on the sink, tubes of lipgloss in her boyfriends pockets. she’s an r&b / rap girl lover to her core, and a day isn’t complete without bouncing around her room to flo milli or saweetie. bunny doesn’t have an ounce of shame in her body— whether that’s from her skirt riding up in public (as to which rafe has to irritably tug it down again) to pawing at him, begging him for dick infront of his friends. luckily, rafe doesn’t have much shame either.

KITTY:

be careful, she bites! no really, she does — cross her and she’s squinting at you, sinking her teeth into an arm until you yelp. according to jj, anyway. she’s odd, and that’s what he likes about her— collecting horror movie memorabilia and trinkets from the thrift store she thinks might be ‘haunted’. she keeps her nails long, stiletto shaped even — whether that’s from scraping her money together for acrylics or growing them out herself. she has the craziest oral fixation, always needing something to lick, suck or chew on— that something often being her boyfriend jj. despite the black liner in her waterline, she is still a spoilt little priss who needs her pink ribbons tied round anything and everything, requiring the fluffiest of blankets and pillows for her daily nap. unlike bunny, she does work — having a little gig as a bartender/waitress at a beachside restaurant. she gets super huffy and puffy, not enjoying having to speak to so many people — but her boyfriend gaining a linecook job at the same joint makes things better. she’s deftones biggest fan, even owning a pair of panties with their album cover on the front. jj loves seeing them on the floor of his room.

PUPPY:

she’s playful, clingy, and ever so whiny. shes the most energetic of the bunch, firing off into a million topics at once, talking and talking until john b has to interrupt her to tell her to breathe or she will pass out. her signature is her big doe eyes, used as a weapon ready to fire at all times on anyone who dares to upset her. she’s not spoilt, infact she’s very humble and fairly docile unless provoked— she just requires oodles of attention and affection, pats on the head and praise are her love language! she works at the local pet store, often coming home with hilarious stories about handling animals, john b plucking hay out of her hair as she tells them. she has the energy to keep up with all the animals, running around until she arrives home to john b and passes out on his lap for a quick nap before bursting into a fit of energy once more. pup is never seen without her walkman, and can often be found dancing around the empty chateau with 80s pop blaring in her ears, or knocked out with the audio tapes john b had recorded for her to help her sleep.

DEER:

riddled with anxiety, whilst somehow being the most still and unsettling person in the room. deer!reader, much like a real deer is skittish, easily frightened, but ever so curious. she has a different view on the world to most of her peers, a master in people watching and could win any staring competition. she’s often found with her nose in a book, the topic being either of something completely fanatical, or something informative and peculiar. due to her reading habits, much like her boyfriend pope she is a whirlpool of information, constantly quietly spewing facts into his ear (which let’s be real, is practically foreplay for the two of them.) she has a tendency to get into trouble from her prying, exploring and staring — but she doesn’t mean to come across that way, she’s the picture of innocence really! she likes 50s/ 60s music, finding a charming and simple peace to the sound — and is a mass collector of callico critters, sonny angels and blythe dolls. pope finds it adorable.

[aoioozora]

Imagine going horse-riding with Keegan on your dad's extensive farmland.

The sun is setting and all work is done and the two of you decide to just trot around the fields together and chat. You helped your dad manage the ranch and the farm and naturally, the men and women who were employed too. Out of them all, Keegan was your particular favourite. Quiet, unobtrusive, and hardworking, both of you gelled well together and he didn't take long to win your good favour and become your closest friend.

He really liked you too-- adored you for your good qualities. Being ranch manager, you were responsible, firm, strong; you called the shots, settled disputes, and did your best to keep peace between everyone. And you were stunning too; a goddess among men, and he secretly admired you.

And as you both ride down the pastures, he can't help but steal a couple glances at how the golden sunset makes your sweat damp skin glow, how it shines against your hair, and how it brightens up your eyes. How you even looked in his direction to begin with was a mystery.

"What're you looking at, Russ?"

Keegan blinks out of his daze to find you grinning at him.

"At you," he answers.

"Why?"

"Just thinking about how shriveled up you look... Like hay," he says dryly as he turns away to look over the mare's head.

"Hay!" you exclaimed.

Both of you burst into wild laughter, and it echoes in the pastures and the hills.

"Ugh, my throat's sore," Keegan complains, clearing his throat loudly after the two of you calm down.

"I know a spot where we can stop for a drink," you tell him.

"Lead the way, little miss."

As you guide your horse to another direction, you smile to yourself. Little miss. That's what he always called you, both teasingly and respectfully, seeing that on a corporation level, you were a higher-up, though younger than him. He was possibly the only one man on the ranch who respected your authority while most of the other men didn't like having a woman tell them what to do.

You lead him through a small, beaten trail through the trees and then climb down some rocks until the gurgle of water is heard. A few seconds trot brings the two of you to a rivulet and Keegan whistles softly.

"How come I don't know this place?" he asks, mock offended as he guides his mare towards the little waterbody, "I thought you told me everything."

You follow behind him. "Now I told you about it," You smile cheekily, "Besides, a secret spot is a secret for a reason."

He gets off the mare and lets her take a drink of the water. "So you come here and do what? Cry about how you can't do taxes?" he teases, moving towards the bank to get on his knees.

You roll your eyes as you get off your horse. "I can do my taxes just fine, thank you very much," you frown, watching him cup the clear, cold water in his hands and drink it greedily, "I come here to relax and unwind." You also get on your knees and bend over the surface of the water, cupping the water into your mouth.

He is thoughtful for a moment as he stands up and wipes his hands on a handkerchief. "How often do you come here?" he asks.

"Couple times a week. Being ranch manager is stressful, you know."

He knows. Having to lead and manage a bunch of cowboys who didn't accept the authority of a woman was a difficult task. He'd seen you lose your patience with them several times, and even vent your frustrations to him in tears. He'd see you disappear for a few hours, not knowing where you went, and now as he takes a look around at the boulders and trees shading the rivulet above, he assumes that this was your little cove, your safe haven.

"This is why my little miss should sit still and look pretty and let the men do all the dirty work." He takes off his boots and rolls up the hem of his jeans up to his knees.

That didn't make you feel any better and you frown, though you steal a glance at his calves. "I can't. I'm the only one my dad has to depend on. And now that he's getting old, eventually I'll have to take over. God forbid, if he becomes sick or even dies, the responsibility of an entire ranch will fall on my shoulders. And I can't do it properly if all those fuckers don't listen to me."

As he wades through the shallow waters and shivers from the cold, he listens to you in silence. He then answers, "Your dad should employ or promote a good guy to be assistant manager, because I don't see those guys changing their minds about you anytime soon."

You sigh, slapping the surface of the water, sending a splash flying sideways. "Dad says that the man I marry will be the assistant manager alongside me," You say, rolling your eyes.

His eyebrows raise with intrigue and he barks a laugh. "What is this ranch, a kingdom?"

You shrug, shaking your head.

"You're tough as nails though," he murmurs, walking back and forth in the stream, splashing water around with his feet, "Any other woman would call it quits."

"Because I have no choice," You add.

He is silent for a few moments as he stares at the little fish swimming past his feet. You turn your attention to the horses who are now peacefully grazing on the sweet patch of grass behind you.

"Hey, c'mere," he calls after a few moments.

You turn back around and find him bent over a spot in the stream with his legs splayed apart and his hands clasped under the water. He flicks his head towards his hands. "Look, I caught something."

You take off your boots and fold up your jeans so that you can join him in the water. You stand in front of him, bent over his clasped hands, wondering if he caught a tadpole. "Let's see it."

His hands emerge from the surface slightly. Before you know it, a small jet of cold water hits you in the face. Your eyes snap shut and you jerk backwards, letting out a surprised squeak. The next thing you hear is the cowboy's uncontrollable laughter.

"Keegan!" you screech, annoyed by the little prank, but he almost doubles over, wheezing and laughing.

You quickly wipe the water off your face and kick some water his way, drenching his jeans. He only laughs harder, to the point that it echoes in the cove. Even the horses are looking strangely at him.

"Didn't that make you feel better though?" he exclaims, wiping a tear from his eye as he takes off his hat and tosses it towards the banks, "Don't you feel more grounded and refreshed?"

You are distracted by him running his wet hand through his short black waves, pushing them back against his head and making them glisten. "Uh... Yeah, it did," you clear your throat, "But that doesn't mean I'll let you off so easily!"

You kick some more water his way, making him retaliate. His laughter fills the air and before you know it, your annoyance is replaced with glee as the two of you frolic and play in the water like children.

All the laughing leaves your throats sore and dry again, so you stop to drink water again. As the two of you crouch down to drink, you can't help but notice how a couple locks of his hair sticks to the side of his face, and how the beads of water slide down his cheekbone to his sharp, stubbly jaw and slowly trail southwards, sinking into the nooks and crannies of his neck.

He's a rugged American cowboy alright.

You purse your lips, almost wanting to lick the water off his skin.

"Whatcha lookin' at?"

Your eyes snap back from his neck to his face, and you find a smirk plastered on it. You narrow your eyes as him. "At you."

"Why?"

"Just thinking about how you're such a jackass."

He clutches his chest, mock offended, but his bright blue eyes seem to twinkle mischievously. "Ouch. Is this how I'm repaid for trying to make you feel better?"

You shove his shoulder. "Okay fine, thank you for making me feel better," You say sarcastically.

He bumps your shoulder with his. "Try again. That wasn't good enough."

You bump his shoulder back harder. "Thank you for making me feel better," You repeat, rolling your eyes and smiling.

"Drop the attitude, lil' missy," his voice lowers as he bumps you right back, making you stumble a little.

"I'd rather sooner drop you down rather than drop the attitude." You straighten yourself up, challenging him with a lopsided smirk.

He scoffs, also standing up. "Oh yeah? Try me."

"Look over there!" you exclaim with wide eyes, pointing behind him.

He quickly turns around. You instantly tackle him to the ground, pushing all your weight against him. With a yowl, he falls back into the stream on his hind quarters with you on top of him.

"You fuckin' animal!" he shouted, but there's a smile on his face.

"You fell for the oldest trick in the book. Bless your precious heart," You tease, laughing out loud as you remain right on top of his chest, not making any effort to move.

He notices that you don't move, and takes full advantage of it. With one fell swoop, he takes hold of your arm and your waist, easily manoeuvres you under him onto the bed of the stream, and presses his entire weight against yours to trap you. You gasp in surprise as you feel the chill of the water from below and the warmth of his body above.

All your words die in your throat as you're face to face with him. You feel his minty breath fan against your lips. A drop of water trickles down a wet lock of his hair on his forehead, dragging down against the bridge of his nose, and hanging right at the tip. The drop falls on your cheek.

You meet his eyes and they hold yours fast. Even in the dimming light, his bright blue eyes are searching you hungrily, looking for any trace of disapproval or resistance from you. You feel a bloom of warmth in your stomach and in your cheeks. All retorts die in your throat, and you feel like a little rabbit in front of a wolf.

He exhales slowly. His eyelids close for a moment and he then leans in close to your ear, whispering in a rumble,

"Don't squat with your spurs on, darling."

A positively divine shiver courses through you from his ticklish breath against your sensitive ear, making your chest heave against his. He smirks when he sees your hairs on your neck stand on the ends. You're liking what he's doing.

"Cat got your tongue, little miss?" he chuckles at your silence, "Or cat got your attitude?"

You blush, frowning at him. "Shuddup..." you mumble weakly, feeling like you were going to lose your mind from how utterly delightful it is to have him chest-to-chest, hips-to-hips, and legs tangled together.

"Ah, it's a case of cat got your tongue. In my extensive years of medical practice, I've seen this condition very often," he says in a sarcastic, matter-of-fact voice, "The cure is simple and will loosen your tongue out just fine."

"What cure?" you demand.

"Allow me."

He cups your face in his hand and leans in. The next thing you feel are a pair of soft lips pressed against yours, and your eyes flutter close upon contact. Even in the biting chill of the flowing water, your entire body flushes with warmth like it's been drenched in gasoline and set on fire. Your hands find their way across his shoulders and your arms coil around his neck, pulling him in deeper. He lets your face go and slides his hand behind your neck at the base of your head, holding you steady. His rough fingers rub against the sensitive skin, turning your stomach into a circus.

"Open up," he commands in a hushed, breathy whisper as he pulls away just slightly enough to lightly swipe the tip of his tongue against your lower lip.

As he kisses you again, you open your mouth. He slips his tongue in and finds yours, twisting and tangling like mating millipedes. You let out a soft whimper at this tingly, delightful feeling of such an intimate kiss and clutch tightly at his hair and dig your fingers into his shoulder. His skin bristles, shivering under your touch, and he increases the pressure of his lips against yours.

Your body feels both numb and electrified at the same time, your blood watery and coagulated, your mind alert and unguarded. The intensity is so dizzying, so pleasurable that it feels like you took some hard drugs and began to ascend.

"Good girl," he rumbles in between, retracting his tongue to go back to kissing you slowly and gently.

Oh, he struck your Achilles heel.

You melt against him in complete submission.

After what felt like only five seconds of utter pleasure, he pulls away to let both of you catch your breaths. He takes a good look at you and then chuckles, almost victoriously. He got the bossy, wild, bucking horse of a little miss to submit to him for once. Your heavy breaths, your flushed face, and your doe eyes looking back at him; he reveled in this victory.

"Tongue loose, lil' miss?" he asks breathily.

"Oh, fuck off..." you grumbled, feeling your cheeks burn.

He chuckles and gets off of you, allowing himself to sit down in the water next to you. As soon as he's off you, you breathe in deeply, not realising how short of breath you were with his entire weight on you.

Both of you are silent for a few minutes, staring upwards at the star spangled heavens through the dark silhouettes of the trees shading the cove as your heavy breaths accentuate the silence of the darkening night. A breeze whistles past you, making both of you shiver.

"We really should-" he sneezes loudly, "Fuck, it's cold. We really should be heading back." He sniffles as he stands up, "Can't go worrying the boss now, can we? C'mon now, get up." He holds out his hand to you.

You reluctantly take his hand and get on your feet. Both of you wade out of the water and then wring out whatever water you can out of your clothes without taking them off. That being done, both of you took the reins of your horses and your boots in your hands and began the long trudge back to the house, sneezing and shivering.

"Russ?"

"Yeah?"

"Maybe I should ask my dad to promote you to assistant manager."

His eyes widen for a split second before he cracks a wide grin. "I think I'd like that very much."

[thatsonemorbidcorvid]

Murphy’s death was just the latest in a seemingly endless, parade of crimes against women that have horrified the country.

Two weeks after Murphy went missing, another woman was killed in Ballarat, a city with a population of just over 100,000, in a separate and unrelated case. Rebecca Young, a 42-year-old mother of five, was allegedly killed by her partner in a suspected murder-suicide.

On 5 April, in bushland near Ballarat, a car was set on fire. Inside it, police found the body of a 23-year-old named Hannah McGuire. Her ex-partner has been charged with her murder…

On 22 April: 28-year-old Molly Ticehurst; 23 April: 49-year-old Emma Bates; 26 April: 30-year-old Erica Hay; 29 April: 78-year-old Joan Drane.

It was the death of Samantha Murphy that prompted a sense that something in Australia was very wrong.

The 51-year-old mother of three left her home in Ballarat in regional Victoria to go for a jog at around 7am on a Sunday morning in early February and did not return.

Murphy was not the first woman to be killed in Australia this year, she was the twelfth. The country followed along as police conducted extensive searches of bushland near her home, appealed for information and released CCTV showing her setting off for her run wearing exercise gear, and with blonde hair pulled back into a messy ponytail.

More than one month later, police arrested and charged a 22-year-old man with her murder. Her body has still not been found.

Murphy’s death was just the latest in a seemingly endless, parade of crimes against women that have horrified the country.

Two weeks after Murphy went missing, another woman was killed in Ballarat, a city with a population of just over 100,000, in a separate and unrelated case. Rebecca Young, a 42-year-old mother of five, was allegedly killed by her partner in a suspected murder-suicide.

On 5 April, in bushland near Ballarat, a car was set on fire. Inside it, police found the body of a 23-year-old named Hannah McGuire.

Her ex-partner has been charged with her murder. The deaths are all separate and unrelated. Here, in the space of two months was another death of another woman in the same small city.

The grief bubbled over, prompting an urgent conversation about violence against women and what will be done about it. Especially pressing is the situation faced by Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander women, who are disproportionately affected by family and domestic violence.

On 12 April, hundreds of Ballarat residents marched in the streets holding signs asking for the names of the women to be remembered and demanding action to end violence against women.

And then, the next day, on a balmy autumn Saturday afternoon in Sydney, a man entered a shopping centre in Bondi Junction armed with a knife. He murdered six people, five of them women. Twelve people, including eight women, were injured, including a nine-month-old baby girl whose mother was murdered in the attack.

Police announced they would investigate whether the killer, who was shot dead by police, had deliberately targeted women and children. But it seemed they had already reached a conclusion on that matter, with the New South Wales police commissioner Karen Webb, saying videos of the attack “speak for themselves”.

“It’s obvious to me … that the offender had focused on women and avoided the men,” she said.

There were vigils; surfers made a heart with their boards out past the break at Bondi beach; the prime minister granted residency to two men who had fended off the attacker and praised the heroism of the female police officer who – without backup – chased the murderer through the centre and when he lunged at her with his knife, shot him dead.

And still the deaths did not stop.

On 22 April: 28-year-old Molly Ticehurst; 23 April: 49-year-old Emma Bates; 26 April: 30-year-old Erica Hay; 29 April: 78-year-old Joan Drane.

And with the relentless drumbeat, fury and grief erupted across the country.

In people’s homes, at barbecues and cafes, in furious editorials in the newspapers and in segments on radio and television, the same questions were being asked. Why are women still not safe to go for a morning jog, to take their baby to a bustling shopping centre, to exist in their own homes without being killed.

According to the Counting Dead Women Australia project, run by researchers from Destroy the Joint, 28 women have died this year – 27 of them alleged to be at the hands of men. This compares to 15 by this point in 2023, 18 by the same point in 2022, 14 in 2021, 16 in 2020, meaning that even excluding the Bondi stabbing attack, the numbers this year are high.

“It’s time we started talking about it not in terms of just ‘violence against women’,” Greens senator Sarah Hanson-Young told Guardian Australia’s Australian Politics podcast. “This is the terrorising of women in their homes and on the street. Women don’t feel safe.”

Figures indicate Australia does have a particular problem with intimate partner killings.

In 2022-23, while the overall homicide rate was lower in Australia (5.6 deaths per million of population) compared with England and Wales (six per million), Australia had nearly double the rate of women killed by a current or former partner, with 34 intimate partner homicides against women in Australia and 35 in England and Wales, despite Australia having a population nearly half that of England and Wales.

The country’s Labor prime minister, Anthony Albanese has declared violence against women a “national crisis”, convened an emergency meeting of national cabinet – the meeting of all the premiers of states and territories, as well as the federal leadership – and on Wednesday announced a $925m package to help victims of violence leave abusive relationships.

Albanese said on Wednesday the suite of measures was “a further step forward” but that he could not be satisfied when a woman was killed in Australia, on average, every four days.

There is a palpable fury in the air. In the last weekend of April, thousands of people took to the streets in 17 rallies across the country, calling for greater action. But there is fear too, that nothing will change.

“I find myself saying [in media interviews] please don’t forget about us next week when the news cycle moves on,” says Karen Bevan, CEO of Full Stop Australia, a sexual, domestic and family violence response and recovery service.

“This isn’t the first time that there’s been a coalescing of national conversation around issues of gendered violence, sexual assault, domestic violence. We’ve certainly had other moments.”

In particular, Bevan is thinking of 2015, when Rosie Batty, whose 11-year-old son Luke had been murdered by his father at cricket training the year before, was made Australian of the Year. Her advocacy catapulted family violence to the top of the public conversation, for a time.

“She, in a moment, changed the conversation,” says Bevan. “And I don’t think her moment was a flash in the pan either. I think she created extraordinary change.”

Since then, changes in the public conversation, media reporting and in the legislative space have made a difference, says Bevan, pointing to the introduction of affirmative consent laws, the passing coercive control legislation, reform of family law, and a review into the funding of legal aid services.

“The other piece we can’t ignore here is that we have a more receptive political environment to the conversation,” she says, of the Labor government, which announced tackling domestic violence as a key priority when it came to power in 2022.

“I do think it matters that governments aren’t only saying ‘thoughts and prayers’, they are also doing things,” she says.

But, there are still huge systemic issues: a national housing crisis and a drastic underfunding of refuges that means women choose between remaining in a violent relationship and homelessness; a lack of funding for women seeking legal help; a scarcity of services particularly for rural and Indigenous women. Experts have also pointed to bail laws, inadequate and sometimes downright harmful policing practices, to show there is much that needs to change before women are safe.

On 1 May, thousands of people turned out in parks, on foreshores, on the lawns of Parliament House for candlelit vigils in honour of all women who were the victims of violence.

Antoinette Braybrook, the CEO of Djirra, an organisation that provides support to Indigenous women experiencing family violence, spoke of the country’s grief in a video ahead of the events.

“Tonight we light not one candle but many … for every woman, for every Aboriginal woman, whose life has been violently taken. For our children, our future, who will never again be embraced by their mum’s love. For every family who has lost a mother, sister, daughter, auntie, grandmother.

“We want you to know we will never give up on our fight for women to live a life free from violence.”

[thaisibir]

SEES members react to getting anesthesia: headcanons from a real anesthetist

(Go here for post on Phantom Thieves react to getting anesthesia)

Makoto: the guy who secretly smokes weed, chews through roc every 15 minutes, needs over 1.5 MAC maintenance sevo. (Laymans terms translation: smokes weed so he burns through a ton of muscle paralytic agent (rocuronium) and anesthetic gas (sevoflurane) needed to keep him relaxed and deeply asleep)

Yukari: had her hair and nails done the day before surgery, wakes up from anesthesia asking if she said anything dumb and apologizing if she did. (Complimenting patients on their nice nails is part of my small talk to attempt calming nerves when they're rolled into the OR)

Junpei: would try to fight anesthesia and count past 10 seconds, tries to cheat by counting fast (he loses anyway) (It's so amusing when patients try to challenge anesthesia. Some put up a good fight, but in the end, anesthesia always wins.)

Mitsuru: takes 300 mg of propofol on anesthetic induction, scares the shit out of OR staff when she still reaches for the airway device as the anesthetist tries to insert it. (Redheads tend to need more anesthetic than average. For context, the induction/knock-you-out dose for propofol is about 2 mg/kg. For frail old people, I halve that dose. Most people don't need more than a single 20 ml syringe/200 mg of propofol. I push 200 mg for big tall football/basketball guys. I've seen redheads take at least 2, even 3 syringes. Mitsuru would be a tough one to knock out.)

Akihiko: the extremely athletic ASA 1 guy with baseline bradycardia bordering on need for anticholinergics. Will most definitely wake up swinging fists and knocking out teeth and trying to jump out of the bed if he didn't get enough sedative on board beforehand. (Healthy athletic young patients (HAY patients, I call them) tend to wake up violently and delirious from anesthetic gas. To mitigate this, there's a sedative called precedex that helps smooth out emergence from anesthesia. Good to give for little kids, teenage girls, and big strong-looking guys. As soon as I see I'll be getting an Akihiko/HAY type patient for an upcoming case, I already know to draw up and dilute precedex to have at the ready.)

Fuuka: actually a very pleasant and compliant patient, but has family history of malignant hyperthermia and allergies to practically everything, apologizes for all the trouble. (Malignant hyperthermia is a very rare, but very deadly anesthetic complication if not treated promptly. Many anesthesia providers go through their entire careers without ever seeing MH, but we're trained to know what to do if it ever happens. Anesthetic gases and a muscle paralytic agent called succinylcholine are MH triggers. The anesthesia machine must be completely removed of the gas canisters and flushed through with high flow oxygen for an hour or so, to really make sure none of that stuff is exposed to an MH patient. I like the idea of Fuuka turning out to be a patient requiring an extensive anesthetic plan when she totally wouldn't mean to)

Ken: the rare kid who's cool with getting an IV in preop. (Pediatric patients typically do not get an IV placed before being rolled back to the OR, as most kids are terrified of needles. Induction of anesthesia in the OR must instead be achieved by delivering high flow anesthetic gas through a mask. Once the kid is unconscious from the gas, then an IV can be placed to give medications throughout a case intravenously. Amada seems like the type to be fine with getting an IV placed when he's awake because that's what adults have to do.)

Aigis: is a robot, physically can't process anesthesia. (Probably goes without saying)

Koromaru: Mitsuru or Akihiko, as the oldest members of SEES, act as guardians to sign anesthesia consent forms. Holds out his front leg and rolls over to offer his chest so staff can put on the blood pressure cuff and EKG stickers. Adored by the vet and vet techs for being so smart and adorable.

Shinjiro: the guy you think would smoke weed and drink a lot but actually has a history of post-operative nausea and vomiting (PONV) and prolonged emergence from general anesthesia. (Somehow I like the idea of Shinjiro turning out to be a delicate flower when it comes to anesthetic requirements)

[mahi-wayy]

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 - 𝐈 | 𝑺𝑬𝑹𝑬𝑵𝑨𝑫𝑬 𝑶𝑭 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑳𝑶𝑺𝑻 𝑩𝑳𝑶𝑶𝑫

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It's been an enjoyable stay, more than enjoyable, it was beautiful in so many aspects.

This was all Amrendra was thinking about as he walked towards the courtroom. Sivagami had abruptly called him and Kattappa back from Kuntal.

He was scared and nervous to be honest, the way the letter was so short and without details, just telling him and Kattappa to come back and bring Devsena along, it sent his mind to all sorts of possibilities.

But when he came back to the palace, being decorated like it was a royal bride, it kind of calmed him down. It wasn't an attack or something but what exactly is going on here?

A soft chime of anklets pulled him out of his thoughts, his head turning in the direction automatically to look who it was.

The only thing he's able to catch is red cloth flapping behind the figure, such a dark red saree, like it was dyed in blood or something. He thinks he has hardly ever seen someone wear that colour.

He embarrassingly almost jumps when someone touches his shoulder and turns around to find Devsena standing there with a raised brow.

“What's wrong?”

“Yeah I just…” He throws a look over his shoulder to only find an empty corridor staring back at him.

“...nothing. Let's head inside.”

His thoughts go silent and so the court once he's announced to be entering, after Devsena. His mother sits in her usual place but his smile falls as soon as he sees her.

She's not okay.

He can tell that at one glance, she's stressed, worried even. The way one of her hands is tapping at the armrest is also a sign of being restless and Sivagami is never restless until it's a situation where she has close to no choice.

As a nervous habit of his, Amrendra starts cracking his knuckles while they wait for Sivagami to speak up. Devsena seems to have noticed this and nudges him to knock it off which he does, choosing to fold his arms behind his back, his nails digging in his palm.

“I have an important announcement to make.”

The whole court falls silent, her voice commanding and strong as ever.

“Before that Devsena, I will give you one chance to explain the disrespect you showed our messenger and by extension me, my son and whole of Mahishmati, when the wedding proposal was sent to you.”

The mentioned woman steps forward joining her hands in greeting.

“Forgive me for my earlier behaviour but the way that letter was phrased angered me but as you can see I have accompanied your son to your kingdom and I am more than willing to marry him.”

The elder of the two frowns at the implication, her elder son looking over at her with a confused look.

“I think you have mistaken..”

Amrendra could feel his heart dropping to his stomach when his mother spoke the next lines.

“Aap ka vivaah jise hona hai, wo Mahishmati ke bade yuvraj Bhallaladeva hain. Aap jinke saath aayin, us Bahubali ka vivaah pehle se hi nishchit ho chuka”

(The one you're supposed to marry is the older prince of Mahishmati, Bhallaladeva. The one you accompanied here, Bahubali's marriage is all set.)

Amrendra has never been more thankful to Kattappa, for the hand on his back was the only thing keeping him on his feet.

He was already set to marry someone else? But when did that happen? This wasn't how he left things.

“Silence.”

His mother's voice brings his head back to the courtroom, his eyes shifting to the older woman who refused to make eye contact with him.

“You heard correctly, your future king's, my younger son's wife has been decided. She's the queen of Chandresha, she is Maharani..”

“Ayudhina.”

The whole court turned around at the voice, Amrendra however restricted himself, he wasn't going to look at her. This all was ridiculous anyways.

But he recognizes it, damn his memory. He recognizes the chime her anklets make, the same ones he heard outside the courtroom.

He averts his gaze, her hair and most probably her sareee brushing his arm as she walks past him. He catches a glimpse of her back. Her hair are open and her saree, that dark red keeps him reminding of blood and that makes him more uncomfortable than he already was.

“Maharani…”

“Rajmata.”

Her voice is softer than he imagined but it's firm, like…like water, gentle but not weak.

He shakes his head, what is he even thinking about, this is ridiculous. He was in love with Devsena, the brightest fire that kept him warm but he was supposed to marry this queen.

Why didn't his mother say anything about this?

“You have my won trust…”

The voice interrupts his overthinking again.

“Aapka vachan hi aapka shaasan hai.”

And that throws everyone off, including Shivgami, if the tightening of her jaw was any indication. That calms Amrendra down a little, there is more to the situation than just his mother fixing his marriage with a girl she liked.

Judging by her face, he thinks she's barely tolerating the behaviour, liking it seems like a far fetched idea.

“How can you do this-”

Devsena's voice makes his head jerk so fast he almost snapped his neck, this was not the time for an argument, with the whole court watching and with his mother clearly distressed. What was she thinking!?

“And who are you to ask that?”

He didn't want to but his eyes went to the voice instinctively, she- Ayudhina, is looking over her shoulder. Her eyes are calm, like a calm sea staring back at a fire cracking by its shore.

“You're not a Mahishmati royalty member as far as I know so sorry to say it but you get no say in this matter.”

“I love the man you're supposed to marry, I have more than just a say in this matter.”

This is bad, this is so bad but Bahubali just couldn't bring himself to say something to stop this argument, thankfully Sivagami was a no nonsense person.

“SILENCE! BOTH OF YOU!!”

Her voice boomed as she stood up from her seat,loud, clear and very obviously pissed off, throughout the courtroom once again silencing everyone.

“This is my court, not your personal chambers to have arguments in.”

Amrendra digs his nails harder in his palm, he can never get over or forget how scary his mother gets when she disapproves of something.

“I have given my final decisions, Ayudhina and Bahubali are to be married in two weeks. As for Devsena, my older son insists on marrying you; however, I am not very pleased by you either. If you accept the proposal well enough, if not you can leave the kingdom right now.”

With that the woman walked down from her throne, striding past Amrendra, followed by her lady in waiting and Kattapa, not sparing anyone even a mere glance.

__________________

taglist : @warnermeadowsgirl @mayakimayahai @vijayasena @mellaga-karagani @voidsteffy @allari-ammayi (let me know if you wanna be added!!)

[darklovecat]

Beauty tips?

Taking my vitamins and beauty supplements every day!

I believe that beauty and health go hand in hand so I got a complete blood work-up to figure out what vitamins and minerals my body was lacking, and I make sure I'm taking my them daily. On top of that, I take various supplements such as Collagen, Fish oil etc but I swear by my 10-gram daily collagen regimen. I take its powdered form right before going to bed and have noticed its benefits within a short time - My knees used to sound like a bowl of Rice Krispies when I bent down, but after a few days of collagen, the crepitus is gone. Plus, my hair is growing faster and my skin is looking plumper. It's done wonders for my joints, giving me a healthy glow, and making me look way more refreshed.

Having perfect posture at all times!

I think this is a very simple but overlooked beauty tip that truly elevates your appearance. It's like the secret weapon of beauty, it can transform not just the way you look, but also the way you feel. When you stand tall and hold yourself with grace and poise, you radiate confidence and elegance. Good posture also has numerous health benefits. It can help prevent back pain, improve your breathing, and even boost your mood and energy levels. Ever since I've started incorporating Pilates and Ballet into my routine to build strength and flexibility, my posture has improved greatly. The way you carry yourself says a lot about who you are and by standing tall and confident, you'll not only look beautiful but also feel empowered and ready to conquer the world.

Getting 6 hours of quality sleep every night!

You know what's a major beauty tip that most people sleep on? Sleep!! Forget about slapping on expensive creams and doing a gazillion steps in your skincare routine. You gotta start with the basics, hun. Get your sleep game on point, eat right, and manage your stress. Now, I know we all have different needs when it comes to sleep, so I won't give you a specific number. But trust me, beauty sleep is not a myth, it's legit! I turn on Night Mode on my devices at 6:30, pop my sleeping pills at 9:30, and hit the hay an hour later. Oh, and I'm not afraid to take a nap during the day if I need to. Don't underestimate the power of a good night's sleep. It's the secret to looking and feeling amazing.

Growing out my eyelashes!

I take pride in my long and voluminous lashes, they're one of my best features and one of my most complimented features. However, my natural lashes were not always this way, they became longer through regular lash serum usage. I do not really need wear mascara and after a lash lift, my lashes appear as if I'm wearing extensions. While Latisse has worked wonders for me, it's important to note that the product does come with potential side effects such as orbital fat loss and irritation. Thankfully, I did not experience any adverse effects. Another caveat is that the product only works as long as it is used consistently. Despite these considerations, I wholeheartedly recommend Latisse. To see the results for yourself, check out the Real Woman Gallery.

Cat.

[obigem]

After school, Cordelia went over to Jordie's as planned but rather than helping her pack, Jordie got bit by the makeover bug when she caught wind that Jai and Cordie would be having their very first date at the Fall Festival.

"I don't know about this." Cordie said as she looked at herself in the mirror caked and in makeup, freshly painted nails, and dress cut lower at the clevage than any of the dresses she owned.

"What do you mean?" Jordie glanced over. "You look hot!" Then she eyed her some more.

"No, wait. I see it now. It's your hair. It isn't big enough. My mom has clip in extensions in her room. That will definitely do the trick!"

"Jordie, no! It's not that."

"Then what?"

"I dunno. You don't think this is all a bit much? It's a fall festival with hay and pumpkins."

"And I'm dressed like I'm going somewhere fancy. I'm going to stick out like a sore thumb."

"Oh, stop it! This is your first date. You can't go dressed any type of way. You want to look drop dead gorgeous so that Jai knows how hot you are and never to take you for granted."

"OK. Well, then explain your ensemble. How come I'm the only one overdressed?"

"Me? Sweetie, you know I can't leave my house in a parent unapproved outfit. My dad vetoed the one I tried on last night because it showed too much skin apparently. So I'm rebelling with this hoodie."

"Well then I'll rebel too. Let me borrow a hoodie."

"No way! Trust me, hotter is better. You'll thank me when Jai goes gaga over your fit."

"Maybe, but what makes you so sure my parents will approve of this?"

"Because your parents won't make a fuss in front of company, i.e. me, when they pick us up to go to the fairgrounds. Besides, there's hardly anything to fuss over. There's barely any clevage, your dress isn't too short, and you're wearing a cardigan. You're like a sexy nun."

"I dunno. My dad can be a little overprotective. He might insist I change."

"Not a problem. We'll debut your outfit in front of my parents, and if they don't have any concerns, that'll be enough to convince your mom who will definitely tell your dad to chill."

"Well, I guess that might work." Cordie relented.

"Might? It'll work like a charm! Now come on. Let's go get those clip ins into your pony to give it more volume."

"Jordie I don't wanna look like a poodle!"

"Relax. You won't!" Jordie insisted.

[nzbricks]

Minifigure Showcase: LEGO Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship Remade

LEGO set 10316 graciously bestowed upon us new minifigures of the Fellowship of the Ring. Consisting of Frodo Baggins, Samwise Gamgee, Peregrin Took, Meriadok Brandybuck, Gandalf the Grey, Aragorn son of Arathorn, Legolas son of Thranduil, Gimli son of Gloin, and Boromir son of Denethor. While the fellowship was certainly complete, there was also room for improvement. So here I have chosen to catalogue the minute changes I made to my Fellowship minifigures to make them more closely resemble their film counterparts. 

1. Gandalf, Frodo, and Sam

Frodo, first and foremost, remained primarily unchanged from his out-of-box self. Sam, on the other hand, has received a couple of new accessories. Firstly, he is now equipped with a short sword, to fight in tandem with his trusty frying pan. However perhaps most notably, I have also added a backpack over his cloak, a mainstay of Sam’s on-screen character that to date has not yet been completely captured. I was going to give him the larger pack from minifigure series 19 explorer, but because he is a hobbit I decided to stick with the more size-compatible part. Gandalf has received perhaps the second-most extensive upgrade. Firstly, I replaced his strange one-hole cape from the set with a smoother gray two-hole cape. Secondly, I exchanged his face, which was originally a recycle from a harry potter set, with the far more endearing face from the 2013 Hobbit sets, also used in the LEGO dimensions lineup (where I also got his cape).  Finally, and perhaps most importantly, I gave him a much, MUCH needed new staff. SERIOUSLY... does it bother nobody else that Gandlaf, since his introduction in 2012, has been using the same 6L bar piece, even though his staff in the film is far more elaborate? Anyway, I created a custom build, consisting of an antenna piece, a 1x1 hollow stud, and an extra-small branch piece, all in reddish brown. This more faithfully replicates the tree-branch like staff from the film, which in case you didn’t know, he actually used to store his pipe. Also worth mentioning is that I equipped him with the newer sword mold to replicate Glamdring, otherwise known as the Foe-Hammer. 

2. Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli (a.k.a the Orc Hunters)

Following the breaking of the Fellowship, Aragorn, Gimli, and Legolas give pursuit to a band of Uruk-Hai, notably cloaked in the enchanted cloaks of Lothlorian. These accessories in particular are distinctly absent from any and all previous iterations of the characters, but using some olive-green specialized capes, I have equipped each of the hunters in their cloaks. Aragorn uses a cape previosuly used on Elrond, of all people, in the Witch King Battle set. Legolas uses a narrower cape that fits neatly under his longer hair. He also has his rather abysmal recycled head print from the Rivendell set replaced with his far more fitting and accurate face print used in the Hobbit and Dimensions sets, just like Gandalf. And Gimli, taking a page of Aragorn’s book, uses a cape from another Hobbit set (particularly an Unexpected Gathering, courtesy of Dwalin). Aragorn has the most extensive upgrade of the fellowship as I have created an entire new set of legs and torso to replicate his ranger attire seen in the majority of the films. But I made a separate post on that project so I won’t elaborate here. 

3. Boromir, Merry, and Pippin

Last of the Fellowship, Boromir, Pippin, and Merry see the least amount of alteration, with their minifigures remaining practically unchanged. Boromir in particular proves to be one of my favorite characters in the Rivendell set. I never much cared for his character in the books and films and felt pretty much the same way with his appearance in the original LEGO Lord of the Rings lineup. The way he was so accurately captured in the Rivendell set, like how his outfit perfectly matches his on-screen attire, and how his sword is a brand new mold made specifically to replicate the Sword of Gondor. Overall, his minifigure was practically perfect in my eyes and there wasn’t anything I could think of adding to strengthen the connection to his film counterpart (apart from a few arrows, maybe). The same can be said for Merry and Pippin, who, despite having their minifigures pretty much the same as in the set, are given brand new accessories. Each receive a short sword, and Pippin in particular receives an apple, to enjoy for his second breakfast of course. 

[wainwrightjakobshammerlock]

Hai hot take time

- I think some of the best enviroments come from Borderlands 1, mostly because of how lived in everything feels. In terms of general aesthetics though Borderlands 3 (and especially Eden-6) have the best ones.

- I don't really like the twins as villains narratively, but most of the hate they get is extremely over the top to cartoonish degrees. Also, Troy is only more favored than Tyreen in those kinds of criticisms because he's a man (God forbid women do anything etc etc

- Athens was more of a nothing burger than Promethea was, and I blame the fact they made it just an extension of that arc rather than its own thing

- Drawing different kinds of bodies is easy people just Dont Really Wanna

"Bl1 has the best environments"

strongly agree | agree | neutral | disagree | strongly disagree

I haven't played bl1 so I can't speak on this tbh! Sowwy!

"BL3 and especially Eden-6 has the best aesthetics"

strongly agree | agree | neutral | disagree | strongly disagree

WELCOME TO THE BLOG OF THE BIOLOGY SPIN HAVER AND NUMBER 1 WAINLOCKPOSTER WHERE WE SALIVATE OVER THE IMMACULATE NATURAL BEAUTY OF EDEN-6 AND THE BEAUTIFUL INTERIORS OF THE JAKOBS ESTATE

"The twins get too much hate and Troy is favored too often"

strongly agree | agree | neutral | disagree | strongly disagree

Yeah this is self explanatory. "They're not as good as Handsome Jack" nobody is. "They're annoying" that's the point.

I still do think Troy somewhat deserves the favor here bc he had actual foreshadowing towards betraying his sister and then. That never happened. Hm I fucking wonder why (i know. Gearbox Forgor). But I agree that people will say Tyreen is a Mary Sue and then ignore Troy despite the fact that canonically the cult was HIS idea and that he's her manager essentially.

"Athenas is flat and mid"

strongly agree | agree | neutral | disagree | strongly disagree

The main reason I dislike Athenas is because it's a long fucking annoying dungeon. Long maps can be done well (see: Bloodsun Canyon) but in this case it's just a pain. I fully agree it should have been more fleshed out, and maybe split across different maps.

"Drawing different bodies is easier people are just lazy"

strongly agree | agree | neutral | disagree | strongly disagree

"I can't draw X people because its too hard/doesnt fit my artstyle" MENTALITY ISSUE. One day I just like. Remembered that black people have light skin palms and often bigger lips and or kinky hair. And just started drawing Alistair Hammerlock w those (i didnt do that before bc i was a wee moron) (i know he doesnt have kinky hair in canon but he has. To Me). Its not hard man. If I can do it with my cartoony ass artstyle so can you.

[mycomfortblanket]

"I really dislike you," // "Oh, so you don't hate me anymore?" Jetkka @krastbannert

It's hard trusting Jet again after everything that they have been through, but the determination on his face as he stares down at a map is making Sokka pause. He seems more adrenalized about finding Appa than the rest of them have felt for a few weeks now. The renewed energy is kind of refreshing. 

"Are you sure you know where to look?" Sokka glances down at the map and back up at Jet's face skeptically. His eyes travel along his jawline and take in the windswept look of his hair. Since the Freedom Fighters found them, Jet has been without the piece of hay in his mouth and he honestly looks better without it. It doesn't pull the gaze away from the way his lips are constantly on the ready to turn up into a smirk nor does it distract from the hungry, predatory gleam that seems to only be in his eyes when he looks at Sokka. 

"I don't know exactly what it is, but trust me, I'll know when I see it," Jet says determinedly, not looking toward him.

"Yeah, trust you. That's something we won't have a problem doing," Sokka hears Katara mutter from across the room and knows that Jet must have also heard it but is seeming to ignore the comment. 

Aang walks up on the other side of Jet's shoulder and looks down at the map as well, confusion furrowing his eyebrows as he looks at the crisscross of the city streets. His eyes drift back up and again, he follows the cut of his jaw and the hunch of his shoulders as he studies the map. Suddenly, Jet's hand shoots down onto the table to point at something causing him to jerk out of his staring situation. He's pointing at a particular street that dead ends at a lake. "Here, Lake Laogai."

"Lake Laogai, yeah, that doesn't sound fake," Katara says sarcastically under her breath but she walks over to look at the map as well. 

"Didn't we go there once? There wasn't anything but a partially dried-up lake and some dead shrubs," Toph calls from the other room. They can hear her digging through the extensively stocked cabinets for some food. Something is continuously crashing to the floor as she continues to search for something particular. 

"It's under the lake," Jet murmurs. 

The crashing in the kitchen stops and a few seconds later, Toph emerges from the kitchen, "I'm sorry, I was in the other room in pursuit of something, I think I misheard. Did he say 'under the lake'?" She asks, disbelief lacing her words. 

~~~

As Toph opens up the tunnel that will take them down to the interconnecting channels of the underground compound, Sokka whistles in appreciation. Already his brain is whirling with the physics that had to go into building something underneath a lake. How strong the stones had to be to ensure that the water above the compound wouldn't collapse the structure. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Jet shoot him a smirk, "Told you it was here."

Sokka's appreciation quickly dissipates and is replaced with an annoyed glare that he sends toward Jet, "I really dislike you," he grumbles. 

Jet's smirk deepens and Sokka can feel himself flush from his face down to his chest, "Oh, you don't hate me anymore?"

"Let's just get through this and we can discuss how I actually feel about you," Sokka says, swallowing a little. He looks back over to where everyone is starting to climb down the ladder and into the tunnel when he sees Toph giving him a 'are you serious' look. Shrugging and adverting his gaze, he makes his way over to the ladder. 

Send me a prompt!

Check out my Archiveofourown.com to see the rest of my works!

[sleeplittleearth]

I felt compelled to weigh in on the Hottest Hob discourse, so here are all my horny and sleep-deprived thoughts:

1389: (9/10) listen: would it be six minutes in missionary on literal hay? probably. am I unreasonably disposed to his scoundrel vibe and winning smile anyways? absolutely, I am. no further questions, your honour.

1489: (8/10) we've covered the hair extensively, but consider this. we saw how excited he was by chimneys; imagine the unbridled glee this man would experience if you showed him a Hitachi magic wand. this bitch would be down for anything and everything.

1589: (3/10) the goatee really doesn't do it for me. also, personal opinion, this is not a man who fucks, generally; this is a man who watches someone else fuck his wife. were the Gadlens engaging in cuckoldry? my heart says yes. could be fun, but doesn't stand on his own for me.

1689: (10/10) the only thing better than a scoundrel is a man on the brink. add a healthy dose of Giving Sanctuary brainrot, and nothing can stop me from imagining some sensual hair washing and then marathon oral sex, sporadically interrupted by some cathartic crying.

1789: (6/10) this is probably my most controversial opinion, but this Hob is so obviously a brat to me and I simply don't have the necessary skillset nor the desire to develop it. I get the appeal, but it doesn't really work for me.

1889: (9/10) okay, hear me out. Hob obviously has no time for Victorian sexual repression, but he's still quite buttoned up, and there'd be a general scandalous feeling of breaking the rules. also, the words sadism and masochism both entered English in the late 19th century for a reason, I assume, and this man knows it. good times for all.

1989: (5/10) his look leans a little patrick bateman for my tastes, but if you could get him to stop talking about stocks, he'd probably be a decent lay. we're fucking in his fancy little car though, because I'm not about to try and wash all that aqua net and drakkar noir out of my sheets.

2022: (7/10) he looks like a millennial dad in a credit union commercial who plays dnd and used to be in a ska band, and for that reason I have to assume that he fucks nasty. he has been known to say things like "adulting", but he's an absolute delight if you keep his mouth busy.

[trashbag-baby666]

Christmas, Sweetness, N’ Things - Randlemartin

Part One:

It was Bull and Johnny's first Christmas together after moving into their new farm house. Bull was eager to get the cows and goats, but now they had to tackle assembling furniture and unpacking.

So that's how they were going to spend this christmas. They had the christmas tree set up and the couch and that was it.

Johnny and Bull stood in the big living room each holding a cup of coffee, "Well Merry Christmas Bull where do we wanna start?" Johnny sipped his coffee.

"Let's start down here? Assemble the ikea table and chairs?" Bull suggested nodding over to the boxes.

"Sure," Johnny nodded. Johnny had never been so glad he's married to a shit kicker hick. Johnny had grown up in a small house in the suburbs of Philly where Bull had grown up in a rural one mile town on a farm.

Bull had all the building skills they both could need.

Johnny and Bull spent the next hour as Bull put together the table and Johnny sat on the floor trying to read the wordless instruction manual.

"Johnny hand me the phillips screwdriver," Bull reached his hand back.

"We have a stanley screwdriver, is that okay?" Johnny held up the screwdriver.

Bull turned his head slowly with his mouth straight and his eyebrows furrowed and sat back on his knees.

"Johnny..." Bull ran a hand over his face, "Phillips is the shape of the screwdriver."

Johnny's lips pursed and he couldn't hold in his laughter, "And how am I supposed to know that?"

Bull smiled and keeled over laughing, "I'm so glad I married you Johnny."

"Well here's your manly screwdriver," Johnny handed Bull the screwdriver. Bull leaned over and kissed Johnny's cheek.

After a long extensive day of building and unpacking they were carrying the mattress up the big staircase. They lovingly yelled at each other as they were both tired.

Finally, they had the new mattress laid down on the new bedframe. They made the bed together and laid down.

"Wooo," Johnny sighed and turned onto his side to look at Bull.

"Well wasn't that fun?"Bull smiled, pushing Johnny's loose curls from his face.

"It was my favorite Christmas with you," Johnny scooted closer to Bull.

"Same," Bull held Johnny's hand.

"At least we didn't have to go to Mary's," Johnny snickered and ran his free hand up Bulls muscly arms.

"Hey!" Bull giggled at Johnny's dig at Bull's ridiculous mother. Yes, Bull loved her but she was very much homophobic and had a strong opinion on Johnny.

"Lord have mercy on her," Johnny cuddled into Bull.

"I love you," Bull sighed and kissed Johnny's knuckles.

"I love you too," Johnny blushed.

Part Two:

The next Christmas they had a nine month old, Denny. Denny had thick dark brown curls like Johnny and blue eyes like Bulls.

They spent their Christmas morning pulling hay and milking cows. Denny in a chest baby carrier on Johnny.

Denny liked the animals a lot. Bull was helping one of the cows deliver an unexpected calf as Johnny made sure the cows got through the milking machines.

"Moo," Denny pointed to the cow as Johnny led the cow into the milking area and got her hooked to the machine.

"Yeah you like the cows Denny? You're just like your father." Johnny smiled.

"Mhmphs!" Denny giggled. Johnny smiled as Bull came back.

"How is it? Is the calf okay?" Johnny asked.

"She's alive I'm gonna get some fresh hay for her and her mom but after you get this girl milked and you got feed in the troughs you guys can go outside thanks for helping." Bull kissed Johnny's cheek and then ruffled Denny's hair.

"Okay," Johnny nodded, "What do you want for breakfast?"

"I'm good with anything," Bull nodded and walked back to the other barn.

Johnny had Denny in his high chair as Johnny sang along to the Disney's greatest hits as he cooked up pancakes and sausage.

Bull came in the front door and yawned, "How're ya feelin'?" Johnny called to Bull as Bull stripped from his layers. Bull sat down and kicked off his rubber boots, he got up and walked to the kitchen.

"Da!" Denny pointed at the tall blonde man.

"Yeah Dad came to join us," Johnny smiled. Bull pulled a chair up next to Denny's high chair, "Here."

Johnny handed a fresh cup of black coffee to Bull as he flipped a pancake at the same time.

"Thank you," Bull took a long drink from the coffee.

"Denny was raving about how much he likes the moo's. Right Denny?" Johnny plated up the pancakes and breakfast meat onto two plates and brought them to the table.

"Moos!" Denny clapped.

"The cows are pretty cool aren't they Denny?" Bull looked over at his son.

"I totally think we should just relax and watch holiday movies and specials after this." Johnny cut up a small pancake and put it on Dennys tray.

"I totally agree," Bull smirked.

Part Three:

"Johnny," Bull rubbed his forehead. Bull had just gotten back from picking up groceries. Johnny was setting up Johnny's beloved Christmas village they literally had no room for.

"Daddy!" Denny ran at Bull, "Look! Look!"

"See even Denny likes it." Johnny smirked crossing his arms and looking up at the love of his life.

Bull was very anti Christmas village because of the amount of space it took up.

Johnny would set it up and expand every year. Plus now that Denny was a fan of the Christmas village it had to stay.

"You're lucky I love you enough to let you keep the damned Christmas village." Bull pulled Johnny into him and kissed his cheek.

Part Four:

Denny was now four and had years of observing his mom and dad kiss. The way Bull would wrap a hand around the back of Johnnys neck and Johnny would rest his hands on Bulls muscular arms.

Denny felt defiant on Christmas Eve and decided he was gonna try and peak and see Santa.

Little did he know Johnny and Bull were parents who knew everything.

Bull dragged out the infamous Randleman Santa suit for this.

So that night about an hour after they laid Denny down to go to bed he crept out of his room and to the top of the stair case.

Denny climbed down the stairs about halfway and silently gasped when he saw his mommy kissing Santa. But it was the same way daddy kissed mommy.

Denny ran up the stairs and got back in bed.

When Bull and Johnny heard the door close they erupted into pure laughter of love.

[silkbarbershopcarnegie]

How to Style Your Hair Like a Pro After a Visit to the Barber

When it comes to haircuts, the debate between visiting a barber shop and attempting a DIY cut at home has become a common one. The allure of saving a few bucks by cutting your own hair at home can be tempting, but is it really worth the risk? While it’s true that some people have had success with DIY haircuts, the reality is that a professional barber brings expertise, experience, and a level of precision that is hard to match with a pair of scissors in your own hands.

In this blog, we’ll explore why heading to a barber shop for your next haircut is a much better option than attempting to cut your own hair at home. Whether you're aiming for a fresh fade, a stylish trim, or just a clean-up, a professional barber shop is the place to go. Let’s dive into the reasons why you should skip the DIY haircuts and trust your hair to the experts.

1. Professional Expertise

One of the biggest advantages of going to a barber shop is the expertise that professional barbers bring to the table. Barbers are highly skilled individuals who have undergone extensive training to perfect their craft. They understand the nuances of different hair types, face shapes, and styles, enabling them to provide haircuts that are tailored specifically to your needs.

Barbers know how to use various tools, such as clippers, razors, and scissors, to achieve the exact look you want. They can create precision cuts, fades, and texturize your hair in ways that are nearly impossible to replicate at home without the proper skills. DIY haircuts, on the other hand, often lack the necessary technique, which can result in uneven cuts, awkward lengths, and a lack of shape.

2. Consistency and Precision

When you visit a barber shop, you can expect consistency and precision. A professional barber understands how to cut hair in a way that ensures your style stays consistent with every visit. They know the correct angles to cut, how to blend different lengths, and how to work with your hair's natural growth patterns.

Attempting a DIY haircut often leads to mistakes that are difficult to fix. Whether you’re trying to trim the sides or give yourself bangs, it’s easy to make an error that leaves you with uneven patches or a cut that doesn’t quite match your expectations. Even if you have the right tools, it’s challenging to maintain the level of precision that a professional barber can offer, especially when cutting your hair at the back or in hard-to-reach areas.

3. Tailored Haircuts for Your Face Shape

Your face shape plays a crucial role in determining which haircut suits you best. A professional Barbershop near me knows how to take your face shape into account when creating a haircut that enhances your features. Whether you have a round, oval, square, or heart-shaped face, a barber can help design a cut that complements your natural structure and adds balance to your appearance.

At home, it’s difficult to achieve this level of customization. Without the experience and knowledge of a professional, you may end up with a haircut that doesn’t flatter your face shape or leaves you feeling less confident about your look. A barber knows how to adjust styles to fit your unique features, ensuring you leave the shop looking and feeling your best.

4. The Right Tools and Techniques

Barber shops are equipped with professional-grade tools designed specifically for cutting hair. These tools are not only sharper but also more precise, which helps the barber achieve cleaner cuts. In contrast, most people attempting DIY haircuts use basic scissors or clippers that are not suited for professional styling. These tools can lead to jagged cuts, uneven lengths, and hair that looks messy and unkempt.

A barber also has a range of tools to address different parts of your haircut. They can use clippers to achieve clean fades, scissors for texturizing, and razors for fine detailing. Attempting a DIY haircut with the wrong tools can leave your hair looking rough and uneven, and it’s difficult to correct mistakes without the right equipment.

5. Time-Saving and Stress-Free

Cutting your hair at home may seem like a time-saving option, but it often leads to frustration, stress, and wasted time. Trying to get your haircut just right can take much longer than anticipated, especially when you’re trying to fix mistakes along the way. You may end up spending hours on a haircut that a professional could complete in 30 minutes or less.

Going to a barber shop takes the stress out of the equation. You can relax in the chair while the barber works their magic. You don’t need to worry about making mistakes or having an uneven cut. Professional barbers work efficiently, so you can get the look you want without all the hassle of DIY haircuts.

6. The Experience and Ambiance

A visit to the barber shop isn’t just about getting a haircut; it’s an experience. Many barbershops offer a comfortable and welcoming atmosphere where you can relax, unwind, and enjoy a bit of pampering. From the friendly conversation to the soothing sounds of the clippers, a trip to the barber shop can be an enjoyable and therapeutic experience.

At home, DIY haircuts are often rushed, and you don’t have the same ambiance or experience that you would at a barber shop. You’re likely to feel more stressed or distracted when trying to cut your own hair, which only makes the process more difficult and less enjoyable.

7. Long-Term Savings

While it may seem like cutting your own hair at home saves money, the long-term costs of DIY haircuts can add up. If you make a mistake, you may have to go to a barber anyway to fix it, which means you’re spending money to correct something you tried to do yourself. On the other hand, a professional haircut ensures that your style is done right the first time, which means you won’t need costly touch-ups or fixes later.

Additionally, a barber can recommend hair care products that suit your specific hair type, which can improve the health and look of your hair over time. By investing in a professional haircut, you’re ensuring that your hair looks its best and that you get value for your money in the long run.

8. Better for Your Mental Health

When you get a haircut at a barber shop, it’s more than just about appearance; it’s about how you feel. A good haircut can boost your confidence and improve your mood, leaving you feeling refreshed and energized. A DIY haircut, however, can lead to frustration and disappointment, especially if it doesn’t turn out the way you hoped.

The stress of trying to perfect your haircut can affect your mental state, making you feel less confident and dissatisfied with your appearance. A visit to a barber can be a confidence booster and a way to recharge, as they ensure you leave feeling like the best version of yourself.

Conclusion

In the end, while DIY haircuts may seem like an appealing option, they rarely live up to the promise of professional results. Barber shops offer expertise, precision, and an overall experience that DIY haircuts simply can’t match. By choosing a professional barber, you’re not only ensuring that your hair looks its best, but you’re also saving time, avoiding frustration, and enjoying a stress-free experience. So, next time you’re considering picking up the scissors, remember: there’s no substitute for a skilled barber when it comes to a great haircut.