#it’s so much fun. with this piece I’m finally happy with the textures!!!! win

[an-established-butt-dent]

What always intrigued me about the storyline with a romanced Solas is that Lavellan was so close to finding out the truth.

She must have had some suspicions before, but she never pushed him for the truth. She gave him time to open up on his own terms, to share when he was ready, which we know he almost did in Crestwood.

I wonder about the demons he fought in his head, the times duty came before love, while at the same time she made him question everything.

Such a tragic lovestory and no I’m still not over it it. :(

[smutty-ki113r]

🎠Laughing Jack🎠|| Carousel

Fluff one-shot x gn!reader— only warning is angst (2.6k)

Inspired by: Melanie Martinez

After months of endless nagging you finally convinced Laughing Jack to let you visit his amusement park. He had claimed it was too scary and you would get creeped out but you weren’t one to take no for an answer.

Giving you a piece of candy so the trans-dementional trip wouldn’t be too hard on you. Tasting the sour lemon taffy he gave you and making a tense face as the flavor pulled at your taste buds and stuck to your teeth.

Your head getting dizzy as your surroundings warped and his room became red and white vertical stripes. Blinking a couple times as he leaned into your face, “are you alright?”

“I’m fine!” You told him, almost falling back at how close he was. As soon as your perception adjusted you looked for the exit to the tent you were inside. “Onward!” You said excited, marching comedically to the entrance flap.

“This isn’t exactly the safest place”, he called from behind, catching up with ease because his legs were so long. “You need to stay close to me at all times” you smiled at him, it’s not like you were complaining, “got that?”

Giving him a keen nod you stepped out of the grand tent. Squinting at the sky, which was tainted a dusty gray, swirly clouds amber of scattered around in the background. The carnival was beautifully revolting, with littered attractions as far as the eye could see.

The place looked somewhat abandoned, if you get past the faint cries of children, from their souls stored in toys. Rides that once colored a vibrant red had paint chipped, specks of dull metal flaked over the bars.

Game stands broken down and leaning unsteadily, disturbing toys with eyes and limbs missing hanging from the top. It looked like it might fall down at any minute, but you couldn’t help but notice the newer looking boxes of supplies lying around next to the stands.

Fairy lights hung from the tilted signs, decorating the food court. A fresh trail had been made between the rides.

It warmed your heart that he had made subtle efforts to fix the place up, he certainly didn’t think you would notice.

Looking back at his nervous smile, Jack was terrified you would hate the place. You thought all but the opposite, giving him a big grin. Your expression relaxed him, assuring him that you wouldn’t think he was a freak and leave. His whole demeanor shifting, making him more comfortable and even enthusiastic.

Straightening out and giving you jazz hands, “what are you waiting for?” putting one hand on his hip to motion you to the park with the other “lets go have fun!”

Following behind you with a giggle as you approached the carnival games. The ring toss looking somewhat appealing in between the other activities, so you told him you wanted to play.

“Basically you get 5 rings, if you get at least 3 in the pins you win a prize” he explained.

“Alright alright lemme try” you waved him off, snatching the rings and giving one a toss. It missed, you brushed it off. The second one made it in and Jack gave a little cheer, it still wasn’t enough.

Hyperfocusing on the pin in the middle make a soft throw upward, the edge hitting the top of the pin and falling to the side. You gave a groan, calculating your last two throws.

Your forth throw made the pin to the side, and you only had one more try left. Aiming for another pin at the side to release, the ring clanging against it and falling to the floor.

You went to look at Jack with a frown but he wore a happy expression, “you won!” He exclaimed. Confused you turned back, finding the ring you had just tossed around the last pin. You were completely certain you had missed it, racking your mind for an explanation as jack handed you a small purple bunny that was missing an arm.

Realizing that Jack had manipulating the game so you could win, throwing him a knowing glance. He just happened to be looking away, whistling guiltily.

Squeezing the bunny you moved onto the next game, it was ballon dart toss. The stand had pale red and black balloons scattered across a board. Excitement was written all over his face, you cocked an eyebrow in question.

“It’s a two person game!” He said, “whoever pops more balloons wins!”

He handed you four darts and kept four for himself, “you can go first” he motioned with a grin. Pacing the dart in two fingers a couple times before throwing at a balloon. Giving a groan when you missed and waiting for him to go.

Being as skilled as he was he managed to land one in a bullseye. “Oh it’s on” you dared, getting one point yourself. LJ got the second one too, staring at you intensely as you evened out the score.

Giving him a small smile as the dart broke the surface of the balloon with a sharp noise “pop goes the weasel right?” You laughed, referring to his famous song.

He looked at you almost in shock, taken aback by your joke. Shaking himself into reality he broke out in a light blush, a part of him touched, as if you were accepting him for who he was.

Too distracted by your eyes on him to play the game with concentration. Missing the third one with a growl he waited for you to take your turn, which you lost. It was the last point and Jack was a shoe in, so obviously he took the victory.

You were happy for him, passing along a “good job!” as he retrieved the big brown teddy bear that was half his size, and all of yours. It was missing an eye, thin stands of makeshift fur pulled out and a silky red bow around it’s neck.

“Here” he said, dangling it in front of you.

“For me?” You asked, “but you won”, trying to look up at him but the bear blocked most of your view, only letting you see above his nose.

“Just take it” he practically pushed it into you, making you blow out an oof.

Holding it to the side at the torso with one hand you broke out in a grin “thank you for the plushie” you said, hugging him from the side and squeezing his torso “but I want you to be my teddy” you laughed. He looked incredibly flustered, frozen as you broke away.

“You���re big and tall” you tippy toed up to give his shoulder pad feathers a ruffle “and fluffy”

The man looked like he was about to faint so you decided to knock it off, laughing and telling him you wanted to go on the carousel next. Quickly, LJ happily led you too it, skipping in front of you (mostly to hide his blush).

Standing at the controls to cue a round, watching you walk around to find a pretty horse. Given, all of them had dark spots and chipped paint, but they worked all the same. Leaving the bear on another horse and climbing onto a white one that had a yellow saddle, intricate lacy designs patterned on the sides. Royal blue reigns across it’s chest and a lion on a crest.

It was beautiful, and you traced your fingers on the drawing. It must have been stunning, but the weathering of time and agony had gotten to it. A painful reminder of what was, a mere reflection of the chipping away of a joyful being.

Prying away from your thoughts as you felt the vibrations of Jack stepping onto the walkway- with one of his big smiles. Even after everything, he still wore a smile. It made you want to tear up, he really needed all the love he could get.

He was too tall to get on a horse, so he just stood by you. His big hand gracing the golden pole and holding on, watching as you peeked up at him. Even though his eyes were constantly bright he displayed something…deeper. It was a sort of shine, a sparkle if you will, luminosity glazed over in such a way that one can only get lost in its vastness.

The looped music in the background was secondary as you rose up and down with the horse, giving Jack a little smile and thanking him for bringing you here. “I’m having a lot of fun with you” you noted.

“Well of course you are! It’s a carnival” he said with joy.

“No I mean with you” you clarified “you’re pretty great Jack”. This time he didn’t avoid your gaze, his mouth open slightly, not knowing how to react to the sincerity of the compliment.

The ride slowly came to a stop, and you were feeling slightly tingly. Maybe it was the air, or the loss of focus. “How about a roller coaster?” You dared, to which he gave a tense face.

“Those are pretty broken, you’ll probably die riding one and that’s not what we want” he said, stepping off the carousel. “How about some cotton candy instead?”

You nodded your head vigorously, following him in the pursuit for the fairy floss, the bear falling behind forgotten. Passing by more unused rides that had long past rusted and a house of mirrors to get to the food court.

Jack humming happily as he dipped a paper cone into the bowl of revolving fibers of sugar. Whipping up a swirly pink and blue cotton candy and handing it to you with a proud smile.

He went to make another treat until you spoke, “I’m not that hungry so we can share” you proposed. “If you want”

“Are you sure?” He asked, concerned that you didn’t have much appetite. “Do you want some candy or maybe a funnel cake?”

You shook him off, taking a bite out of the cloud-like dessert. It was absolutely delicious, honeyed and saccharine on your tongue in a blend of flavor you had never tasted had before.

Soft as it disintegrated onto your mouth, leaving behind a remanence of something too sweet. Bringing it up to Jack, who was so tall you had to extend your arm fully to get it to his mouth.

He simply laughed at your struggle, taking a bite before giving you a thin smile and taking it from your hand. Sitting down at a bench so that you could both share comfortably.

By the time the candy had finished you noticed little bits of the silky texture stuck on his nose. Painfully stifling a laugh you turned away.

“What’s so funny?” He asked with a genuine smile.

When you didn’t answer his tone changed, “what’s so funny huh?” he sounded a bit angered.

Hiccuping through your laughter you faced him, leaning in real close to his face, enough so that you could feel the heat emanating from it; taking a bite of the pink woven candy on his nose and holding it in your teeth.

His face went red at the sight, embarrassed that he had cotton candy on his nose. Well, that and for a moment he thought you were going to kiss him.

Noticing your hands were all sticky you asked him if there was a sink somewhere. After both of you washed your hands you sat back down at the bench.

The sky was going dark, the poofs of dusty cloud fading in with the night but still managing to remain visible. You heard a whirr as Jack turned on all the rides at the carnival, lighting the whole thing up.

You sat in awe, a mere spectator in the empty yet live amusement park. Admiring the music that added to the ambiance, watching Jack approach you.

“Wanna take a walk?” He asked, but there was something…off. LJ seemed nervous as you got up and walked next to him.

He had been thinking about it for a while now, probably even before he brought you to the carnival. Even though he had washed the gooey candy from his hands they were still sticky, but it was from sweat. Giving you side glances as you paced the trail with him.

Debating to himself whether or not he should do it, if you would hate him for it. Telling himself that he would regret it if he didn’t, but thinking about the potential negative reactions you could give.

Passing the carousel once again as you noticed the usually loud and happy clown was silent, lost in thought as he stared into the distance, his lips forming a tensing line.

Wondering if he was ok, but brining up the topic might make him uneasy. Perhaps you being there at his haunted amusement park was ticking him off, or if you taking that cotton floss off his nose was too much, or if you were pushing your luck, or worse what if you triggered hi-

All thoughts faded from your mind the moment you felt a slow, shaky hand grasp onto yours. You had to look to where he held you because he was so gentile you thought it was the wind. Holding onto you softly enough that it felt like a feather, somehow still creating a little pocket of warmth between you.

A glowing thump of heat pulsing inside your chest, happiness digging into your cells and giving you the confidence to squeeze his hand.

He let out a sharp inhale at the feel, still avoiding your gaze as he relaxed into your touch. Not daring to move his hand too much or he might risk ruining the moment, afraid of hurting you with his claws.

Approaching the Ferris wheel he finally spoke, “this is probably the one ride that won’t break”, not a peep about holding you. “Do you want to go on?”

You finally caught his gaze, absolutely melting at the smile in his eyes. Responding with a ‘yes’ and letting him open the door for you. Sustaining his grip with you as he helped you on, not letting go even after you sat.

The cart wasn’t exactly small, but with a guy the size of Jack it was pretty compacted. It’s not like you minded, the lack of space gave you an excuse to bunch up alongside him. The feathers from his pads tickling your face as you rested on him.

Watching the view as the cart took you higher and higher, it was perfect. The evening set in the rich obscurity of the night, lights of the festival blinking as if they had a life of their own. The bulbs on the stands making z’s as they illuminated the red and white drapes of the far off tents.

Jack held your hand with such care and caress, you gave him a reassuring press to let him know it was ok. He was so enveloped with the passionate act that he squeezed as well. Letting you feel all the dips and curves of his hand. Clutching onto you, as if you might disappear too.

Facing him to cup his cheek with your free hand, caressing him and tucking a stand of hair behind his ear. Trailing your thumb across his skin and feeling him lean into your touch, swearing that between the lines on the pad of your finger there was a tear that you had wiped away.

Getting lost in the breaths you shared as you inched closer to his lips, giving him a second of warmth longer to prove that you weren’t going anywhere.

[mintmatcha]

9 months, 28 days

Chapter 3 of 10 Months

CW: discussions of death

A/N: this is the end of the beginning! im not sure exactly how long this stories going to be but yolo

The cafe is almost empty, just like always. That’s why they loved this place so much as kids. No one they knew was ever here, sitting in the mothball scented booths- only the occasional elderly couple who didn’t give a fuck that the place hadn’t updated it’s decor since 1995. Clouds rolled in overnight, painting the town a somber grey. Mattsun feels like it should match his mood, but it doesn’t. He’s not sad, he just… is. There’s this weird, turbulent void in his chest where his despair should lie.

Hanamaki’s in the corner when he arrives, nestled into the booth with a mug. He watches the rain trickle down the window, tracing the paths of the drops with his finger tips. It’s very ‘white girl protagonist’ Mattsun decides. Like he’s the star of a Hallmark movie. The void in his chest pulses and he swears, just for a flash, it was warm.

“Hanamaki.” Mattsun slides in across from him.

“Well, lookie here at the big boy in his big boy suit.” Hanamaki taps his nails against the glass, not even looking at his friend. “Did your mom help you pick that out?”

“This is technically a business meeting, so I had to wear something nice.” he explains. “Or else my boss is going to think I’m just screwing around.”

That’s what it feels like. It feels like work. He’s just putting all of this into his little box, so he can file it away in the storage files of his mind. He’ll process it later, when the moment’s right.

Or never.

Makki tents his fingers together, like he’s some sort of super villain. He’s always had this casual, uncaring air about him, but it seems to have developed further into a chaotic mess. “Ah, so you’ve decided to plan my fun-eral.”

The black haired man sighs. “Only if you stop calling it that.”

The waitress wanders up, expecting orders in her typical, unfriendly way. If he didn’t know better, he’d assume it was the same woman from years ago, still equally sick of her job.

Neither of the men look at the menu. Mattsun orders a cheeseburger omelette and a coffee with six sugars, the same horrible thing he’s been getting since high school. ‘The American Experience’, they called it. Makki orders plain toast, notably not the same thing he’s been getting since high school.

“You should eat more,” Mattsun says, “You’re too thin.”

“Who are you? My mom?” he takes a long swip from his mug,

“If I was, I wouldn’t be-” Mattsun stops himself, much to Makki’s delight.

“Oh, please make a dead mom joke. Please.” Makki’s on the edge of his seat, leaning halfway across the table, “My mom would have loved you making a joke about her.”

Mattsun slinks down so far that his knees pump against the booth across from him. “That’s… yeah, you’re right. She would have loved it.”

Mattsun wants to say he misses her, but it doesn't seem fair. To miss Hanamaki Hana would be to miss Hanamaki Takahiro, and he certainly wasn’t allowed to miss Hiro.

Makki looks exactly like his father. He's there in the too thin nose, the gap between his canines and molars, and the clubbed way their fingernails grew.

but his mom's in his idiosyncrasies. She's in the laughter, the winks, the tiny things that make Takahiro himself. Truly a mama's boy, Makki taps his cup against his front teeth the same way she did. It's their thinking face.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Mattsun regains control. His notebook and reading materials jut out against his stomach from their spot in his coat.

“Are you really sick?” It surprises both of them. Maybe it was the thought sitting at the top of his head, maybe he meant to say it. All of this just feels too sudden, too random, Mattsun just can’t quiet his doubts.

This is why the time apart was good; Makki made him do stupid things, made his brain stop working.

“I- uh. Yeah.” Makki's face doesn't change, but his shoulders fall. The tension in his body deflates as he goes back to looking out the window. "You're such a dick."

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“You really think I’d lie about all of this?” he laughs, but it's flat, "To do what? To crawl back into your life?"

"That's not what-"

"Newsflash, asshole- I've been doing great without you.” the mug slams against the table, “I've been really, truly, wonderfully happy since-"

The other man picks up one of the pieces of toast and examines it, before carefully ripping the crust off. It’s a delicate procedure, carefully peeling off the edge on one, long piece. Makki opens his mouth to continue, then closes it with a low, thoughtful hum as he rolls the crust into a little ball.

"Makki." Mattsun holds up a finger, pausing the conversation for a moment as the waitress approaches. They sit in silence, mumbling only a quiet thank you as she

drops off the plates. She doesn't seem to notice the tension in the air or if she does, she doesn't care. She pours the coffee carefully, counts out the sugar packets like she's rationing them. As soon as she turns, he sighs and curls his hand into a tight fist, holding it in the air for a second before letting it fall. "Continue."

“This was a dumb idea. Forget I even asked you to do this.” he tosses the bread ball into his mouth and chews, “I’m just gonna go.” Standing suddenly, he grabs his coat from the booth beside him.

This would be the third time he let Makki leave and, according to the time left, the last. Life is fickle, an unpredictable lace pattern made by the people in your life coming and going. Mattsun was used to dealing with the final goodbyes and usually found comfort in it. No more chapters to write, all secrets buried and forgotten- truly, nothing left but what you can see in rose colored glasses.

And yet some part of him- the stupid part, the crazy part, the self loathing part- panics at the thought of seeing this end.

"I know you're better without me." Mattsun sighs, "But I want to help you, if you'll still let me."

“Stop.” Mattsun’s heart pounds so hard, dancing across his skin, that he can barely recognize he’s touching Makki, holding his wrist down against the table. “Sit. Eat."

Makki just raises a brow.

Reluctantly, he complies, but not before he tugs his hand out of his friend's grasp, the corner of his mouth twitching up in a sneer. A boundary has been set- no touching.

"I'll let you." he turns his attention back to the mangled food on his plate, "But only because I want to finish my toast."

"We good?" They are not, but Mattsun prays for a lie.

"For now. But watch yourself." It's a win, albeit a half hearted one. Mattsun pulls a tiny notebook from an inner pocket of his coat and flips through the pages until he reaches the last page; it's the farthest out thing he's planning, of course. It’s marked ‘The Hanamaki Service.’

They let the silence sit between them as they pick at what’s in front of them. The terrain of this relationship is uneven, constantly changing. It’s like hiking a mountain in the winter, Mattsun decides, one wrong move, one noise too loud, and the whole thing will come crashing down,

Why does he even care?

Makki’s happy without him, he’s fine without Makki.

He shouldn’t care, and yet he stays.

The black haired man stabs a hunk of egg and watches the half melted cheese try to stretch. “So, to put it all simply: what our home does for you is the basics: Legal procurement, transportation, preparation, and disposition- you don't have to worry about any of it. We also offer a location for interment and service, depending on the type of service you require, of course."

"Location?"

Mattsun takes a bite. "For the service and for you to, um, rest."

"You mean rot."

Maybe eating wasn’t the right choice for this conversation. The texture of egg now feels wrong in his mouth.

"Don't say it like that." The preservatives slow that down, so the rot won't happen for a long time, he brain reminds him. It doesn't help.

"I already have those places picked out though." Mattsun waits for a joke to follow, but he’s surprised when his friend says, "Bury me near my mom and hold the service here."

"Here?" Mattsun asks, “There’s nicer places.”

"Save a dying business with a dead guy. It's irony."

"Okay, well. That's-" he sighs and scribbles into his notebook. This wasn’t going to be a traditional job, was it? "At least the catering is done then."

"Perfect." Makki pushes away his empty plate, "I'm a natural at this. You should hire me.”

"Long term positions only, sorry." It slips out before Mattsun can censor himself, but Makki just snorts into his tea.

It’s frustrating that they click together so well, especially because nothing’s been resolved between them. One minute everything threatens to break, the next they can sit here and joke with each other. The issues sit there, waiting in the corner of the room, cocked and ready to fire. If they just didn’t look, maybe it wouldn’t hurt when it finally attacked.

If they didn’t look, maybe they can pretend nothing happened.

Mattsun reminds himself that he doesn’t care. There's still that blank space inside him.

“Next step would be flowers.”

It’s not. They should discuss embalming versus cremation, but the words stick to his throat. He’s asked so many times before, stared forward as loved ones debated what to do without a care in the world. This time shouldn’t be different.

“I’ll think about it. Can’t say I know too many flowers off the top of my head.” Makki digs his phone from his front pocket and scrolls, looking through everything before tapping out a quick question. There's a twitch of his brow, barely furrow, but it's gone in a flash. Before Mattsun can even ask, Makki's gathered his coat in his hands. “Gotta go.”

“What? We just started-” The whiplash is what hurts. Just as Mattsun feels like he's found his footing, it's gone again, slipping out from under him. This must be some level of hell

"Something came up." he shrugs, "Don't worry about it."

"I won't."

"You're such an asshole." he says, "You're supposed to at least pretend to care."

Yeah, he knows. That's how life works. But he can't just pretend; it's a gateway to actually feeling.

"I'll try." Mattsun offers, "It was nice to see you."

Makki rolls his left shoulder over and over again, like he's trying to work out a kink. "Was it? Was it really?"

"Kind of."

"Thanks," there's a hint of sarcasm in his voice, "We'll do this again."

And like that, with no formal goodbye, he just starts to leave. Mattsun wants to protest, but he’s grateful. He hadn’t realized how tense he had been, how hard he'd been digging his fingers into his thigh. The void in his stomach somehow feels smaller and larger all at once. He kind of wishes it would just swallow him up and this would all be done with.

It's so easy not to care.

“Oh, and Mattsun?” Makki pauses by the door and picks out a familiar black umbrella that was leaning against the doorframe. He twirls in in his fingers like a baton before pressing the button and letting it unfold. It's bad luck to open an umbrella inside. “Thanks for breakfast.”

Mattsun just looks down at the table. His food is barely touched but he doesn't plan to eat anymore. With his heart in his throat for no good reason, he feels nauseous. Despite himself, he wonders if Makki still smells like cedar aftershave and the discount brand laundry detergent.

“That fucker didn’t pay.”

[jimlingss]

Sugar and Coffee [8]

Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9

➜ Words: 3.3k

➜ Genres: 99.5% Fluff, 0.5% Angst, Pâtisserie school!AU

➜ Summary: It isn't hard to be a pâtisserie chef, but it's not a piece of cake either. It seems like for you in particular, life keeps throwing in one wrench after another. It always finds ways to make your sweets bitter. The cherry on top is Jeon Jungkook — a rival with a sensitive sweet tooth who always finds ways to complain about you.

cr.

You always thought you would be happy to see him again.   To come face to face with the man who you miss the most — who you’ve yearned to see so much. Like reuniting with a close friend who you’ve lost contact with. Like rediscovering a piece of yourself that you had lost.   But you didn’t know it would be so painful. That your heart would be so heavy.   “H-hey.”   “Hey.” Seokjin smiles and your heart stutters but then constricts. It’s hard to breathe. “Are you on your way to class?”   You hold your books closer to your chest as if they could do anything to protect you. Your eyes sweeping over his features, trying to freshen your memories of him. You can’t recall the last time you heard the sound of his voice. “Y-Yeah. Are you?”   “I’m on my way to the library to meet up with some people for a group project,” he says casually with a good-natured smile.   “Oh. A group project already?”   “Yeah, I know right.” Jin sighs lightly, lips falling into a slight pout. “Well it’s my last ever semester, so it’s the last push.”   “Totally. I...get it.”   “I should go now before I’m late. It was nice seeing you, Y/N.”   You nod and without waiting a beat, he brushes past you, continuing down the hall.   You hate it. The way he looked at you, talked to you so nonchalantly, how he didn’t even blink thrice. Jin was friendly, but you know him — and he treated you the way he treats strangers. There weren't any softened gazes, gentle words. None of his actions had a trace of lingering feelings. His polite smile is the same one that’s reserved for mere acquaintances. Distant.   You’re no less than a stranger to him.   And as you watch Jin’s backside fading down the corridor, you quickly wipe away the tears that shed down your cheeks.   //   “You ran into him?”   You nod, toying with the hem of your sweater.   “That’s great news,” Jungkook murmurs from the corner of his mouth, preoccupied with choosing a game.   “Yeah, I know, right?” You're stiff, but he doesn't pay enough attention to notice.   You’re sitting on the floor of Jungkook’s dorm room, knees gathered together as you watch him set up. He’s finally cleaned up after you insulted him that he was a pig living in a pigsty, and he was offended enough to clean up after himself and do his laundry.   Jungkook switches on his PS4 and flops down on his small couch with the controller. He glances up at you when there’s ongoing silence and realizes he should say something more.   “That means there’s hope, right? If he’s willing to talk to you and all. I know a lot of exes who would run in the other direction.”   “Yeah. That’s true, I guess.”   Jungkook is optimistic. “If you keep talking to him, who knows, you might get back together before you even realize.”   There’s a loud knock on the door, someone’s fist banging on the surface. The boy in his gray sweatpants and black, boxy shirt sighs, gets up and opens the door. The person on the other side glares at him. “Dude, about fucking time. Was standing out there for an eternity.”   “Shut up, I literally took ten seconds.”   “Yea, but ten seconds we could’ve used playing. Hey, Y/N!” Hoseok grins, plopping down on the couch and stealing Jungkook’s controller. Jimin follows in, greeting you with a smile, and Taehyung and Yoongi are the last with the former harshly nudging the latter forward.   “Alright, alright,” Yoongi grunts quietly and then faces you with his hands dug into his hoodie pocket. “Y/N. I wanted to apologize for my behaviour last time.” He looks less sorry and more disgruntled and reluctant, but it’s enough to amuse you.   You snort. “It’s no big deal.”   “Okay, cool.” Yoongi exhales and sits beside you.   Taehyung shakes his head but redirects his attention to Jimin when he steals his favourite controller. “Hey, hey, hey, paws off, bro.”   “What?”   “That’s mine.”   “Who says?”   “I wrote my name at the back in pencil. Look. See?”   “You wrote on my controller?” Jungkook is outraged, snapping into their argument.   In the meanwhile, Yoongi scrolls through his phone and notices you’re blankly staring at Jungkook's old flat screen — the one he stole from his parent’s home months ago and somehow set it up here. “I meant it.”   “What?”   “I know it looked like Taehyung made me,” Yoongi mumbles, “Which he did. But I meant to apologize anyway. Eventually. I know I’m an ass.”   “You’re an honest one,” you admit with a small smile. If there was anyone who was going to be frank and truthful, it would be Yoongi. He won’t sugar coat it, won’t string pretty words together to make you feel better, so that’s why you pick him to inquire, “Can I ask you a question, Yoongi?”   “Sure.”   “Do you think I’ll ever be able to get back together with Jin?”   “No.” His gaze connects with yours. “You won’t. Usually people break up for a reason and that reason always stands.”

Two weeks pass by as you ignore the thoughts lingering in the back of your mind. You overlook it like an assignment on your desk that needs to be done or like that messy drawer you should clean out but keep procrastinating on. And it’s easy to distract yourself when the entire school is stirred.   Of course it would be. After all, the most competitive holiday was coming up.   “What are you going to make for Valentines?”   “Me?” You blink. “I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it yet….”   The atmosphere hyped — even the dining hall is louder, the air buzzing.   The holiday simply dedicated to love has long been replaced by alumni years ago and became a competition. After all, this was the place where everyone could make sweets after all. No longer was Valentine chocolates simply melting chocolate from the store and pouring them into molds — every single person here can properly judge the quality, taste, texture, flavour, and the presentation.   According to rumours, the tradition started between three people, specifically when a girl told her two potential suitors that she would become the Valentine of whoever baked better. It sounds like some ridiculous Shakespearean tragedy, but as people went head to head to win the affections of their crushes — it essentially evolved into a competition.   And at this point, it doesn’t matter who gives it to who. It’s who bakes it better.   “I’m still debating if I want to do raspberry possets or raspberry religieuse,” Taehyung hums, chin resting in his propped up hand, and he turns to his side. “Which one do you like, Yoongi?”   “Why the fuck do you care what I like?”   “Well obviously because I’m going to make it for you,” he giggles.   Yoongi glares. “Fuck off.”   “Who else am I supposed to give it to? You have no one, I have no one.”   “What about Jimin?” you ask, trying to hold back laughter with said brunette.   “He has his mom.”   “Hey,” Jimin whines, “I have the Valentine’s Day fundraiser at the hospital this year too.”   “So you’re not going to make anything for your mom?” he deadpans.   “Well, no.” Jimin pouts. “I’m going to make her red velvet cupcakes.”   “Don’t make fun of him,” you chide Taehyung and turn to the other. “That’s really cute, Jimin.”   Jimin grins, eyes crinkling into half moons. “Don’t worry, Taehyung can say whatever he wants. He’s just jealous my mom’s the best. She raised me all on her own and I wouldn’t be here without her.”   “Okay, I’ll admit she’s really nice,” Taehyung has a dreamy expression. “I miss her warm hugs.”   “That’s weird,” Jimin deadpans, pleasant smile switching into a face of comical disgust. “Don’t talk about my mom like that, dude.”   You laugh and look over at the sleepy man lazily chewing on his mac and cheese. It’s always funny to watch Yoongi eat. He looks physically pained to chew and swallow — you wonder if he would blend all of his food to just drink it if he could. “Are you going to make anything, Yoongi?”   “No. Who would I give it to?” He ignores Taehyung when he exclaims ‘me’.   You direct your attention to Hoseok and he shrugs. “I might...make lemon and poppy seed cupcakes or strawberry rhubarb shortbread bars.”   “For who?” Jungkook asks, brows raised.   “Uh, no one.” But it’s obvious that the answer is too suspicious, so he gives in with a sigh. “I owe Y/N’s friend, Aeri, a favour, so I’ll probably make something for her.”   “Ooh, I haven’t heard you talk about Y/N’s friend before.” Taehyung leans in closer, eyes glistening.   “Shut up,” Hoseok quips. “What about you, Y/N?”   “I...haven’t decided if I will or not. Maybe I’ll make something for Jin.”   Yoongi’s eyes flicker up, brow cocking, and you stare back at him blankly.   Jimin catches the quick exchange and intercepts. “You should tell Jungkook to make you his chocolate-covered strawberry cupcakes.”   “Holy fuck, I remember those!” Taehyung slaps the table, startling both you and Jungkook. “Those was so fucking delicious, I thought I was going to cream my pants when I ate them. I can still taste it.” He slurps up the spit that’s accumulated in his mouth.   Jungkook’s nose wrinkles. “No. It’s too much work to make that.”   Taehyung bats his lashes. “You wouldn’t make it for us?”    “That’s an even harder no.”   “Psh. Valentine’s Day hater.”   “Fuck off. It’s not my fault that the holiday is stupid.”   “You just hate it because you’re alone.” You pat your friend on the back. “It’s okay, Jungkook. You’ll find love someday.”   “Okay, fuck you too,” he spits without much malice, making Yoongi smirk.   “Jungkook just knows his small package can’t satisfy any man or woman.”   Yoongi’s insult rouses laughter from everyone and the man being grilled has his brows shot to his hairline. “For your information, I have a substantial size and I’m probably bigger than everyone here. Especially you, Mr. five foot nine.”   You blanch. “Gross.”    But while Yoongi doesn’t seem injured by the retort, Jimin’s the one who’s sitting straight and he whines, “Why do you have to bring height into this?”   They ignore him in favour of Taehyung’s questioning, “Really? Bigger than everyone here?”   “Okay fine.” Jungkook points at Taehyung. “Except you.”   You look between the pair of them. “Did you guys have a dick measuring contest or what?”   “We will not speak of the past,” Jungkook deadpans, making you laugh even more.   //   You know that you shouldn’t. With what Yoongi’s told you, with what you know yourself, you shouldn’t go out of your way to do something so unnecessary. You shouldn’t put your heart on your sleeve to get hurt again when it’s not going to be worth it. But in your life, there've been a thousand shouldn’ts and you’ve always grasped onto the one should.   It never hurts you to try, and that’s how you’ve made it this far.   “Hey, Jeon.” You catch up to him. Jungkook’s legs are unbearably longer than yours and when he walks fast it puts you out of breath within seconds.    Luckily, he sees you and has the decency to slow down. “What?”   “I need your help.” Jungkook’s steps slow even more until he outright stops in the middle of the hallway. He looks so apprehensive, you have an urge to slap that expression off his face. “Hey! It’s not like I’m not going to ask you to kill someone for me!”   “Yeah, well, the last time you asked for a favour, we destroyed a kitchen trying to temper chocolate. I’d rather you kill me, thank you very much.”   “Pretty please? Promise it’s not bad.”   “Ew, ew. Don’t look at me like that and stop pouting, you’re not cute.”   You frown at him. “Look it’s not a huge, huge thing, promise.”   “What is it?”   “Well, you’re Jungkook, World’s Best Chocolatier, right?” You nudge him with your elbow and it only makes him more suspicious with how you’re thickly laying down the praise. “And you know chocolate hates me. I definitely don’t know about it as well as you do either, so I need you to bestow your gifts onto me—”   “What is it, lady? Get a move on! I don’t have all day.”   “Can you help me make something for Jin?”   Jungkook pauses. He stares at you. Maybe his brain finally died — not like there is anything to die considering it’s always been a little on the empty side. But then he finally opens his mouth. “What are you planning?”   “Just something simple. Like truffles. What do you think?”   Jungkook hesitates, then he looks at you. “Fine.”   “Really?”   “Yeah, yeah.”   He waves his hand away, but you grin at him. “You know you’re my best friend, right, Jungkook?”   “Yeah, well, it’s something I never really signed up for,” your best friend mutters and continues walking while telling you that you’ll owe him and that means more notes from multiple lectures. But it’s worth it.   On the fourteenth, right on Valentine’s Day, you meet with Jungkook.   He audibly sighs when he sees you tie up the back of your apron. “What?”   “Nothing. I just can’t believe I’m spending Valentine’s with you.”   “I thought you didn’t care about the holiday.”   “I don’t. But that still doesn’t mean this isn’t lame. Whatever. The quicker we get this done, the quicker I can leave and avoid all this.” He motions around, but you know what he means.   Love is in the air and it’s sickening — couples were holding hands, kissing each other on the tips of their noses, rubbing their cheeks against one another, dialing up the PDA to an uncomfortable amount. But you can’t blame them. You and Seokjin were once like that.   “Do you know how to make ganache?”   “Do I know how to make ganache,” you mimic him mockingly. “Of course I do! What am I, an idiot?!”   “Well, you didn’t know how to temper chocolate so you tell me.”   You glare at him. You would mouth off but can’t risk him storming out.   The two of you gather the eight ounce semi-sweet chocolate, a half cup of whipping cream, cocoa powder and some vanilla. Jungkook helps you heat the cream to a simmer in a small saucepan, looking over your shoulder at every step along the way. While you’d usually mind the way he’s intruding in your personal bubble, you don’t want to get anything wrong.   “Make sure it doesn’t burn.”   “It’s not going to burn.”   “You said that last time.”   You snap. “Keep bringing up last time and this will be the last time you step into the kitchen, Jeon.” A second later, you’re begging Jungkook not to leave. But thankfully, he has enough mercy and lets you off with a warning.   The pair of you continue making the ganache, placing the chocolate in a bowl before pouring the cream and adding the vanilla to it. You allow it to stand for a few minutes before stirring it into a smooth, deep mixture.   You place the ganache in the fridge for half an hour to chill. In the meanwhile, you clean up the mess and wash whatever dishes you have. Jungkook, on the other hand, shows you Yoongi’s reaction of Taehyung proposing to him with some cupcakes in front of campus in which the former man straight out walks away.    Jimin who’s filming is giggling hard enough that the camera is unsteady, but his laughter is infectious and makes the both of you grin. Jungkook says he’s glad he wasn’t there lest Taehyung turned to him and started to declare his fake affections and cause a crowd to gather. Apparently it’s happened before.   When the ganache is ready, Jungkook helps you roll it into balls and dust with cocoa powder. You pull out a box you had prepared to place them in, and you could not be prouder when it’s complete.   It looks like a product that you could buy in-store. Simple yet elegant.   “All done.”   “All done,” you repeat after him, viewing your final product. Chocolate doesn’t hate you so much when you’re with Jungkook, you realize.   “He’ll love it.”   “Yeah….”   You can imagine it — calling out Jin’s name. He’d spin around, regard you with his surprise. You’d extend your arms to give him the box. You’d try to show through this small gesture that you still love him, but you wouldn’t speak the words in case the moment would be ruined. But with your courage mustered, you’d tell him that you miss him in your life. That you don’t want to be strangers anymore. Whether that means remaining friends or being lovers again.   But you know that it’s just your fantasy.   A delusion — your optimistic imagination running wild with the semblances of hope still left within you. A sweet dream you would have in your slumber only to wake up to reality. The grief of your heartbreak morphed into a wishful thinking. The image and scenario you’ve constructed in your mind is simply part of a chapter in your life that would never happen.   “He wouldn’t take it,” you whisper.    It's a truth that’s hard to face, that you’ve been running from and turning yourself blind to.    But you know Seokjin. After nearly two years together, you know the kind of polite smile he gives to strangers. You know how he treats acquaintances. You know when he’s being distant, how he acts when things don’t matter to him anymore. And you know that— “He wouldn’t….”   He would never take this.    He would never accept the chocolates you’ve made on Valentine’s. You would never be able to muster the courage to tell him how much you miss him. And he would never agree to being friends after your extensive history together.    Your head lowers, and tears drip down your cheeks. Jungkook is rendered speechless but you feel his hand on your shoulder. He squeezes comfortingly.   You sniffle, wiping your face with the back of your hand, and you take a truffle to throw into your mouth. You chew in your cheek and look at Jungkook with your reddened, teary eyes. “I-If he won’t eat it, we should.”   That’s how you end up on the floor of the kitchen with Jungkook beside you.    The two of you are leaning against the kitchen island, hidden away from the window of the door and any intrusive eyes peering through. The tips of your fingers are stained with melted chocolate — the fruits of your labour gone in an instant.   The realization sinks in. After months of what you’ve tried to keep a hold on it. Having hoped aimlessly that you could change this back around. What had shattered into sand and slipped between your fingertips, but you tried to catch it again. It hits you in an instant.    Harder than it ever has.   “It’s really over, isn’t it, Jungkook?” you ask in a murmur, in a broken voice. “It’s over.”   The relationship ended. Any form of a relationship with Seokjin is gone forevermore.   Jungkook turns his head, gazing at your profile. He pats you on the back.   He’s learnt long ago that he wasn’t very good at speaking, but that his words don’t mean as much as his actions do.   So in silence, Jungkook eats the truffles with you. It’s not bad, he muses internally. You’re getting better at chocolate despite how you never had a knack for it. Well, technically he made them but whatever, your effort still means something.   He chews and keeps to himself how the chocolate truffle strangely tastes sweet and bitter, like both sugar and black coffee.

[commander-isekai]

Commander Isekai - commander from an another world

A/N:

Hi all! This my tongue-in-cheek fic about a commander, who’s actually a human player from the real world, and who now lives through the game, but armed with previous knowledge about it. They aren’t happy just to follow along a story, so things will get different quickly enough. Hence their name is commander Kai, as a pun from the isekai genre. I’ve been inspired by similar fics done about other games, and I thought gw2 could be a fun one too.

Chapter One:

The Second Awakening or how I found myself in a video game world

Sometimes, all you can remember is falling. It was the only sensation I could comprehend. The world around me was a blurry, like a messy watercolor painting. If there were any noises, I couldn't hear them. I just fell.

A painfully bright light drilled into my eyes.

I woke up with a great thump, as I landed into a large pile of dry leaves. They managed to soften my landing to a degree, but I was aching from all over, like if I had rolled downhill like a cheese in a cheese-wheeling competition, determined to win the first place no matter how crumbly my state would be at the finish line.

"This fucking sucks.." I groaned, tossing my arm out and trying to find my glasses, or my phone, but only grasped more leaves. I hoped I hadn’t broken either one during my fall.

"Are you alright, Valiant?" I heard a concerned voice ask, "the awakening can be sometimes rough, but you'll find your bearings soon enough."

Oh no, had I fallen asleep outside? I had a bad habit of dozing off, but the embarrassment of sleeping outside and this kind person having to wake me up made me wish I could knock myself out permanently rather than face them.

"Yeah yeah, I'm sorry about this, just give me a minute..." I tried to form coherent sentences while pushing my hair away, but my hand gathered only more leaves? and no hair??

I pulled my hand in front of my face and yelped in surprise when I saw that it was bright lavender, a color that my regular human hands should not be, and that I was grasping purple and pink ferns instead of my regular colored human hair.

"Wh-what the hell is going on?" I looked at myself and the person helping me, and only then I realized they weren't human either, but a pea-green person who seemed to be made out of plant material and flowers. Behind them, I could see a shimmering lake and a small village, with more denizens similar to them and me.

As I gasped upon the scene, the two braincells inside my skull finally hit a nerve and made the connection that I had been missing:

A) Somehow, I was in Caledon Forest. Like, the starting zone in Guild Wars 2, an MMO I used to play lot back in the day until I got too busy with my life and other video games.

B) Also somehow, I wasn't a human anymore. I was a walking, talking, internally-panicking sylvari.

C) Last but not least, I could see everything clearly without glasses. This fact stressed me out the most. Had my vision somehow been fixed when I fell? I did like my old glasses, and really hoped they were in one piece somewhere.

"Are you feeling enough well to stand?" the sylvari that must be a mender asked me, offering a hand that I gladly took as I wobbled onto my feet like a newborn calf.

“I think I am?” I answered hesitantly, not certain if I’d stay upright after she’d let go of me.

" I am mender Lorean. What's your name?" the sylvari asked me.

" Um, Kai" I said, as the first name in my mind was the name of my commander character, "short of Cainneach, but just Kai is fine."

It didn't feel right to introduce myself with my given human name, as it was definitely not a sylvari name, and that would have revealed me being something else than your regular baby sprout. I really wasn't married to that name anyway, so Kai came out naturally. I had already used Kai as a all-around nickname, so I settled into it like putting on a new, yet surprisingly comfortable shirt.

"Alright, Valiant Kai", seeing as I could hold on my own against the gravity, Lorean let go of my hand, and explained: "Now, it can take some time to get used to the world outside the Dream. You shouldn't wander off too far from the Grove, at least not until you're experienced enough. You should find anything you need inside the city, and the mentors will help you along. Caithe also asked me to tell you that she wants to speak with you, when you are ready."

The mender that helped me did not seem to comment on my errantic behaviour - they must have seen a wild variety of saplings in their time.

"Wait, why do you keep calling me a valiant?" I asked, trying to wrap my head around what I could remember about Caithe. The total sum was not much - an assassin with a troubled past: a guild of heroes that basically cut ties after a failed dragon killing quest and ex-girlfriend who's in the lead of the bad Nightmare sylvari. That'd be a lot for anyone.

"Caithe told me, about how you joined forces with her to defeat the a large nightmare beast in the Dream. That must be a sign of a great Wyld Hunt", Lorean explained, and asked curiously: "don't you remember the Dream?"

Oh right. The Dream, or the tutorial part with the big dragon monster. I somehow completely skipped that in this new, 4D-supported version of Tyria. At least I did not remember experiencing anything resembling fighting a giant dragon to death, not after waking up here. I had an inkling that telling so would only raise more questions, and I had plenty of those myself.

  "Oh yes, it's all coming back to me", I lied with a practiced straight face, "I must have just hit my head hard when I awoke, that's all.  I'll be on my way now, thanks!" 

I waved and nearly dashed to an exit before Lorean could respond. They were being just nice, sure, but I needed a moment for myself with no one else right now, or I would explode on the spot.

'''

Not far from the village, but enough far that no one would hopefully bother me, I made my way to the large pond, to really take in all the changes.

"Oh no, the fireflies are actually that big", I grimaced when I saw a group of the flying creatures gather around one of the light-giving plants, "That's going to take some time getting used to."

I sat down next to the water's edge, and I could finally take a look at my new features. They were nothing like what I'd been used to - instead of soft skin, my face was hard, bark-like texture. My hair was like plant's leaf, yet sturdier - it hurt when I tried to pull it. My form was different too, almost like I had had a second puberty without knowing it - my limbs were taller than what I had been used to, and I felt my presentation was more masculine than what it had been when I was human.

The more I sat and contemplated my situation, everything around me seemed to make no sense. I was stuck in an unfamiliar body, in the role of the main character of a video game, and while I did not remember every detail of what happened in the story, I knew it wouldn't take long for things to get hairy. Why I was here? Why did I look like this?  No matter how I tried to rationalize it, I had no answers, and I was only left with piling up frustration, and tears began to form in the corners of my eyes.

“Hey, are you alright?” A new voice dragged me out of my depths. It belonged to a blue sylvari with a mushroom-capped head, and whose leaf-like outfit seemed to grow naturally as a part of their body.

“I don’t know, it’s just - a lot of stuff to process. The whole awakening, and everything”, I told them as honestly as I could.

“You seemed to be a little more lost than the other sprouts - and I do not mean that in a judgmental way”, the sylvari said and hold out something: “here, take this, it will help.”

“Oh, thank you”, I accepted the carved bowl that seemed to be made out of a giant nut, and the gentle smell of pumpkin soup overwhelmed me. Gods, I realized only now how starved I felt, like I had not eaten properly for days.

“I don’t have any money, or gold-” I tried to say, but the other sylvari cut in quickly:

“Do not worry about it! I hope you have a pleasant evening!” 

The sylvari took off, and I was too mesmerized by their kindness towards a random stranger like me that it did not even occur to me to ask their name. The soup, still warm in my hands was a temptation too great to resist, and I wasted no time devouring it.

Maybe this world isn’t too bad after all, if people are gifting food freely to others like that, I thought to myself, earlier anguish almost completely forgotten.

[labyrintharchitect]

Can a dragon hoard fly?

In the light of the various hyped up posts I have written concerning the latest chapter of Part 5, how did I find episode 16? Preeeeeeeetty bad. However, now that I have mulled it over for a few days, I feel like the disappointing pay-off was mostly due to an unusually limp storytelling and poorly handled subplots. Looking past all that, everything I found promising and intriguing about the story remains unchanged, and I am still excited to find out how it all pays off in the end. They will just need to really hit the ground running with that finale arc, and please PLEASE not lose all their steam before the end.

The sudden drop in energy and the poorer composition were pretty baffling in episode 16: that show has been downright ridiculous at times, and certainly has had its share of problematic moments, but so far it had managed to stay vibrant and engaging, with amazingly choreographed action sequences, genuine-sounding character interactions, pretty good comedic timing overall, and a sense of purpose to the general story. I’m willing to look past so much dodgy shit if I can tell a story was made with ambition and love –and I respect what a vulnerable position that must be for the creative team, to get so invested in a series that has passed through so many hands over the decades. It has been energizing to watch this strange chimera of a story being built out of the mismatched pieces of the Lupin III mythos –like a monstrous machine created from the treasures and junk found in a dragon hoard; you expect it to fall apart any minute, but also can’t help but want to see it fly. Wherever this is going, I am grateful for the energy it has given me.

This episode… felt limp, mostly. The main cast and especially Fujiko were dropped so that the Padar civil war situation could take center stage, but with Dolma’s character development being so inconsistent, and Ugo’s downright incomprehensible, it was hard to engage with any of it. There was very little contrast –arc II had a good mix of funny and tense scenes, and a steady escalation of violence as though Albert and Lupin were peer pressuring each other into being their worst selves. Arc I had a nice use of light and darkness, solitude and public overexposure, which suited Lupin well and made for a neat introduction for new viewers. 

Here in arc III, I guess they wanted to go with this whole tradition/high tech dichotomy, but they failed to make that resonate with Lupin in any way, or with anyone in the main cast for that matter. The dichotomy wasn’t even handled all that well visually, a shame since until then, the seamless incorporation of actions and backgrounds had been a strong point of the show. For instance, the reveal that the High Priest is actually a tech guru could have been made very striking visually, with changes in lighting and texture and sense of space, to underline the hypocrisy of the character and make him all the more shifty and sinister. Instead, all we got was one admittedly cool eye-scanning statue, and a bunch of doors sliding open. Wheee.

The unengaging subplots only made more frustrating the apparent lack of progress in the overarching conflict between Lupin and Fujiko. I say apparent because we did get some extra info in there – it’s pretty clear by now that Lupin is the one who refuses to communicate and face the situation, and possibly the one at fault in their breakup. Add the hint that Lupin is doubting the solidity of his friendship with Goemon and Jigen – and it still seems like Lupin’s character flaws and contradictions (secrecy and mistrust as a flip-side to his showmanship and self-reliance) could be exploited as an important plot point in the finale arc. It also makes Fujiko appear mature and resolute by contrast, and I am pretty happy with her characterization in this arc.

Now, regarding Ami –that confession scene at the end would have been pretty awful had it been the final scene of the series, for how it pitches women against each other to win the affections of one morally ambiguous guy. The script for the dialogue was definitely poor. The one saving grace I found for it was how heartbreakingly out of his depth Lupin was looking during its delivery: the poor dumbass has been trying so hard to relate to Ami as a daughter figure, as a friend, as a potential work colleague, as a younger self. And yet, for all that he can change the course of a civil war in one afternoon, he has zero control over the emotional growth of this teenager he is feeling responsible for. His reluctance to provide any clear answer also contrasts with Ami’s straightforwardness and courage. I don’t think this is the end of Ami’s journey, or heaven forbid, an indication that she and Lupin might actually become a couple one day ��� it would be unfair to her character if it were. And Lupin still owes her an apology for his shit dad job, damn it! But for further development to occur, Ami needs to retain an important role in the finale arc.

I was hoping this chapter would let Ami see the limits of a man like Lupin, and make her realise some of the less than ideals influences he’s had on her. As with the conflicts between Lupin and Fujiko and then Lupin and Albert, the story instead shirked away from providing any real closure, and is now one big mess of loose threads. So: is that some crazy gambit from the creative team, where all those thematically-linked conflicts have been introduced then pushed almost to their breaking points, and are all going to crash down on Lupin in the finale arc? Or will the story lose itself once more in convoluted geopolitics and miserably run out of steam before the big pay-off? I really can’t tell at this stage XD

But to hell with my pride and the possibility that I’m placing way too much hope in a dumpsterfire of a show: I have booked my ticket for the hype train, and I am having fun, and I will stay and watch this series fly or burn!

[trash64]

N64 Switch Online Wishlist

I wrote a N64 Switch Online Wishlist some time ago on a personal blog. Since I’m sorta fitting this as my N64 fan blog. I feel the listicle translates here even if N64 Switch Online has since been announced. Check out how right or wrong I was.

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I see enough of these online; it’s the laziest engagement grabbing commentary possible. What’s your hypothetical “hit list” for a N64 mini or Switch Online. For the insatiable gamers it’s heroin to talk down a Nintendo Switch Online release like Jelly Boy and then immediately turn around and say “Why release this when there are countless other titles under Nintendo’s ownership given the shaft?!” Namely, Super Mario RPG or Earthbound.

Fandom is a vast complexity and presently my entire mood is to not engage and just move on. As sure as the sky is blue, passionate fans will log-on and complain or barrack behind a company in an ongoing war where nobody really wins in the end.

Anyways, lest I digress here’s my list based on previous releases on Virtual Consoles and just whatever I think fits based on current trends.

Super Mario 64 – Goes without saying. Mario’s first foray into 3D brought the imagination out in players, modelling the N64 controller on the breadth of movement the aerobatic plumber can produce is an incredible feature. It’s just as bright and enjoyable to play through today – and its inclusion on the Super Mario 3D All Stars says it is possible.

F-Zero X – A fully 3D interpretation of F-Zero without the Mode 7 trickery of yore. A lightning speed racer built to handle a whopping 60 fps. People have been clamouring for an F-Zero continuation for years, whilst Fast Racing Neo has been unofficially handed the mantle F-Zero X is still impressive today.

Mario Kart 64 – The emergence of Mario Kart it its finalised form, filled with expressive tracks, items and being 4-player multiplayer. Mario Kart 64 is a title I played most of all racers. 4 player online would be a very sweet treat, however as good as I think an online time trials leadership would be… it’s not a real possibility.

Yoshi’s Story – What the original Yoshi Island did, Yoshi’s Story handled differently to say the least. Away with the typical level progression, players are placed in a 6 world storybook where dependant on how many hearts players collected (0, 1, 2 or 3) determines what levels will be available to players on the next world. Levels are completed when a number of fruit is eaten, rather than reaching the conclusion or end to a level. Unfortunately it was perceived as too easy and simple – missing some of the magic Yoshi’s Island on the SNES had.

Kirby 64: The Crystal Shards – All Kirby titles have this whimsical quality and while many other titles jumped to 3D, Kirby stuck to the 2.5D side-scroller format, I’ll say it’s fun in small bursts and includes Kirby abilities you can merge together for some additional experimentation and fun.

Star Fox 64 – Upgraded the wireframe form of the SNES title to full 3D models of the N64. Full branching paths that followed the trend of “fully realised” titles in 3D space. It’s an awesome 3D shooter that I haven’t spent enough time with.

The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time – Basically set the mould for all future 3D Zelda titles, immaculate storytelling with the return of some set-pieces of A Link to the Past in an expressive 3D world. Included amazing dungeons and lively townships as well as introduced the Z-Targeting system. Short of being one of Nintendo’s greatest, it is a sure inclusion.

Sin and Punishment – An arcade on-rails shooter that doesn’t get the given praise of earlier Treasure titles that appeared on the Mega Drive. The game uses almost a twin-stick design on an N64 controller, handling player movement and the shooting cursor simultaneously to take out enemies – both through shooting and through close combat physical fighting. Stylistically awesome and honestly the more people with access to this the better!

Super Smash Bros – Choose your Nintendo favourite and fight it out with your friends! The first in a huge series, everything can be tracked back to the original – the base characters here perform similarly in Super Smash Bros. Ultimate and of course all the stages feature in Ultimate too.

Paper Mario – Spiritual successor to Super Mario RPG on the SNES. This falls into the “unsure” category, we are yet to see Super Mario RPG on Switch so far. But we have seen Paper Mario Origami King – and this is very similar. Learning the weaknesses of each character and the timing of moves is key to winning encounters handily. Definitely a fun game with ounces of charm. At a time when the Mario characters weren’t super expressive Paper Mario really rounded out the edges of series personalities.

Pokemon Snap – Get snap happy with your friends, a cult classic release which has since spanned its own “New” sequel. It’s an on rails shooter meets Pokemon photography, you’re scored based on Pokemon’s activity and placement in frame. This game encourages replaying levels to find hidden secrets. I feel this is a good nostalgia grab that encourages fans to check out the new title.

1080(degrees sign) Snowboarding – Nintendo pulled back a little to their classic “Black Box” style of sporting games from NES with a little more 90’s flare. What I mean to say is, this is a realistic take on Snowboarding showcasing great snow textures that set the formula for the genre on N64.

Wave Race 64 – Much like 1080 Snowboarding, Wave Race showcases the realistic water rippling effects of the N64 and demonstrates a more arcade inspired realistic take. There are passionate fans of the series.

The Legend of Zelda: Majora’s Mask – This I place on a “later down the line” release, not a launch N64 Switch Online title. It’s the oddball sequel to Ocarina of Time, explore the land of Termina to retrieve a lost friend in a harrowing dooms day scenario where within 3 days the moon will destroy the world. The game has its own 3 day clock with events occurring in real time, rote memorisation of time is necessary to progression and in terms of supporting cast this houses some of the best. If I could wipe any game from my memory it would be this just so I could play it again blind.

Mario Tennis – It’s Mario, it’s Tennis. Introduction of the great Waluigi! Plays like an action tennis game with many zany power-ups and antics. Great fun.

Mario Golf – It’s Mario, it’s Golf. Game developers Camelot of Shining series and Golden Sun games were involved, I hear it’s fairly RPG orientated… But who knows it could be the more action orientated counterpart to the Game Boy Colours RPG leanings.

Donkey Kong 64 – This is debatable but people love the Saturday Morning antics of the DK Crew. Possibly taking the formula set by Super Mario 64 a step too far. With 5 characters to change between to use in many situational circumstances and too many collectables to even count. It’s hit and miss.

Ogre Battle 64: Persons of Lordly Calibre – A real-time strategy RPG which in part is almost a parallel to Final Fantasy Tactics. I can honestly say I haven’t given this series the time. While these have in past been readily available on Virtual Console, the first title Ogre Battle: The March of the Black Queen is yet to be available on the Super Nintendo service.

Mario Party 2 – It’s Mario, it’s a party. Arguably the best of the series. This is a 4-player board game/mini-game extravaganza. Which introduced themed costumes and a set of items for each character in each map – which is the stand-out feature honestly. Screw your friends over in the ongoing quest to beat a series of Bowsers.

Please note: I wrote this “listicle” back in 2020; since then some things have changed. Such as Mario Party Superstars being a remaster of previous maps and games means Mario Party 2 becomes a less likely candidate. Nintendo has generally been good with keeping the N64 spirit alive with Stages from Super Smash Bros. in Ultimate and new releases for basically every franchise. 5/10/21: The N64 doesn’t have a huge library but I managed to guess... 13 of the 16 coming to the Western service. I would not have ever guessed Banjo-Kazooie would ever arrive being a Rare property (even if it is on Smash Bros.) - I listed Donkey Kong 64 as an aspirational choice. Didn’t really know about Dr. Mario 64 (and neither did Japan). Operation WinBack is an odd third party option and I’m looking forward to the potential for more obscure options like Hybrid Heaven or Body Harvest and further Japanese titles. The first addendum discounts Mario Party 2 and Super Smash Bros. somewhat. Whereas Wave Racer 64, 1080 Snowboarding and Pilotwings 64 may be later additions.

[ukcps]

Congratulations to Monique Castellani-Kraan for winning Best in Show at the UKCPS Keswick Exhibition 2021.

Monique has kindly share some background information on her wonderful piece Kisses in Blue.

I drew my first hyacinth macaw back in 2015, and it was wonderful being able to revisit the same subject again with “Kisses in Blue”. Parrots are honestly such a delight to draw. Their colours are bright and happy, and they have so much character. I will also always jump at the chance to get out my blue coloured pencils!

I started work on this piece back in January. After a long spate of only making miniature pet commissions over the Christmas period, which was slowly sending me into a spiral of madness, I decided to overcompensate by starting my largest drawing to date, at 40 x 50cm (16 x 20 inches approx).

As someone with a background in digital painting, I like to do all of my sketches and compositions digitally nowadays to transfer to paper. That way my expensive watercolour paper stays free of eraser marks and errant sketch lines. It saves a lot of time in the long run, and if I mess up I can very easily just print out the sketch again to start over. I don't know what I'd do without my iPad!

This drawing proved to be a little intimidating because of the size I was working at. I ended up setting it aside for a few months. You know that famous "fear of the blank canvas" we've all experienced? This one hit me hard. I got a tiny section of the eye and surrounding feathers done and then proceeded to swiftly run away, back to the safety of drawing miniatures! A few months later, I finally decided to stop hiding and to give this piece a proper go. As I got into the rhythm of it I quickly felt myself being sucked into that "zone" of intense focus - where time just slips away until it's suddenly dark outside and you've skipped a meal!

Now that I had finally got my toes wet, I was gaining confidence. Art is a bit like exercise - it takes effort and routine to get into the swing of it - but once I do, I feel like I'm flying! With every new drawing I'm reminded of just how much I adore coloured pencils and how fun the process is.

Translating the reference photo’s feathers on the left macaw’s cheek was proving to be a bit of a challenge. I could only stare for so long at the complicated mess of shadows without going cross-eyed - so I decided to treat myself to tackling the beak first instead. If ever you find yourself in a rut with a painting, look for the deepest, darkest shadows in your reference, and block those in first. You will have a much easier time once they're there. Here, the darkest shadows were the inside of the macaws' mouths, so I put my much-loved Polychromos black to work, blending with paint thinner in between each layer and tinting it with Luminance Dark Indigo to get it nice and deep. Now that the darkest shadows were blocked in, I would have a much easier time in the areas surrounding it. That shadow became my reference point for judging the values for the beak, skin and feathers nearby.

I used Daler Rowney Low Odour Thinner to blend my pencils in between layers, with a flat taklon brush. I primarily used it in the first few layers of the underpainting. The yellow skin on the beak was a tricky customer with this - my blending brushes had to be impeccably clean, or else I would end up turning it green with the blues being so close by. In addition, I didn't want the very pale yellows getting contaminated by the oranges that are in the shadows. I made sure to carefully wipe my brush off thoroughly on some paper towel before blending in small areas at a time.

Beaks are so much fun to draw! They have a lot going on, from subtle colour shifts, to chips and cracks and ridges. The texture is a treat for the eyes! Here, I started by creating a gradient of soft earthy purples, greys and creams in the underpainting. At this stage I used mostly a mix of Luminance and Polychromos pencils. For underpaintings, I like to go darker than what the final result will be - though some would say I go a little TOO dark (coloured pencil is technically a light to dark workflow because they are mostly transparent).

After blending it with OMS, and making sure it's still a little damp, I go in with my pale tones from the Derwent Lightfast, Caran d'Ache Luminance and Holbein lines. These brands are soft and have more wax than oil in them, making them very creamy and more opaque than brands like Polychromos. Because the paper is still saturated with paint thinner, the pencil melts as it makes contact with the paper, making it go on super thick, even though I'm only pressing gently. This is my dirty little secret for how I work from dark to light in all of my coloured pencil pieces. The paper you're using, of course, is paramount for this technique too. If you're not using a good paper, you're going to run out of tooth extremely quickly using this technique. This piece was drawn on Saunders Waterford Hot Pressed 300gsm- and I wholeheartedly recommend it!

However, I just want to add that if you have an area or texture you want to keep REALLY light, for example a large white crack in the beak, you should draw that in first before doing anything else. That way, when you put your underpainting over it and blend with paint thinner, the white detail you added first will show through, clear as day! (This is great for whiskers on cats and dogs for example) You can also use a ceramic cutter to do this afterwards instead, though personally I have yet to use one myself.

After finishing the beaks, it was time to face the feathers on the birds’ bodies head-on. As always, I block in my darkest shadows first and then my underpainting, giving it a good blend out with plenty of OMS. This is so that I don't get lost in a sea of repeating shapes. Without doing this, I find it's very easy for your artwork to end up all the same value with not enough contrast between the highlights and shadows. I also rough in where I want each contour feather to be on the bird’s chest with a dark blue, though I only very gently line them in with my pencil so I can still move things around if needed while I build on the textures and detail.

Once the underpainting is done I am free to start pulling out those details. I went feather-by-feather, preferring to go in with my lighter coloured pencils first, gently pulling out each feather’s barbs. After that, staying mindful of how the lighting is hitting each feather, I used my mid tone and darker pencils to work in between each barb, gradually building up shadows. I also glazed in shadows over this with a very gentle hand to give the overall shape of the feather form and depth.

It can be tempting to rush through areas like this where there is lots of uniform texture, but it’s important to stay patient and take your time. Body feathers especially can become indecipherable after a certain point, because they all overlap and merge into each other. Sometimes even though the reference photo is sharp as a tack and super clear, there is just so much going on that it wouldn't 'read' well as an artwork. So I used my reference to help me with the general structure and composition, and to inform me on how the shapes and textures should look. But I didn’t stress about getting it exact.

Once you have good knowledge of a subject, after doing study sketches and looking at lots of different references, you can be a lot freer with how you approach your final artwork. A lot of the colours, textures and feather placement in ‘Kisses in Blue’ were not there in the reference. I opted to go for a much warmer, cheerful blue. The reference I was using was also fairly flat as it was taken on an overcast day, meaning the lighting was quite diffused. I made my artwork brighter than my reference material, pushing the overall contrast between the midtones and the deepest shadows. I also found myself intermingling soft lilac hues and subtle teal with my Polychromos and Luminance pencils, almost over-exaggerating the birds’ vibrancy. I tried not to stress too much about feathers either - while getting the shape and placement of feathers right on wings can be paramount to a realistic piece, the same does not apply for contour feathers and down feathers. As long as you stick to the right shapes and sizes, paying attention to the bird’s form, you don’t need to get it looking exactly like your reference.

I try my best to bring myself out of my comfort zone with each new drawing. This piece was my biggest challenge yet – quite literally. I’m glad I pushed myself to draw larger than I am used to and I can see why a lot of coloured pencil artists like working at this size – while it is more time-consuming, you have much more room to breathe and fit details in, that would normally get lost in a smaller piece. With my choice of composition and lighting, I wanted to convey a feeling of intimacy and closeness with the birds that I don’t think I would have been able to achieve were this drawing smaller.

[theseadagiodays]

June 14, 2020

Stuck Together

Dresses by Gabrielle C - lemons; Evelyn K - tux; Callan R - Black Lives Matter 

For the past three months, I have so appreciated sharpening my lens towards the creative gestures that this time has inspired.  These musings began with a hunch that artists would play a significant leadership role in the resiliency that such crises require.  While confirmed, my thesis has expanded to recognize that ALL humans are fundamentally wired to be resilient.  And because innovation is a key ingredient of resiliency, people from all walks of life (professional artist or otherwise) have been seeking creative expression to tether them through these uncertain times.  

For example, take these insanely fanciful prom dresses that teenagers around the US have designed in just 48 hours, using 40 rolls of duck tape and no other materials.  I can only imagine to what extent feelings of uncertainty have been exacerbated for these high school seniors, already poised for one of the biggest leaps of their life.  With the possibility of on-campus fall enrollment at new institutions threatened, and stripped of important rituals like graduation ceremonies and grad dances, these youth have had to contend with an abundance of shattered dreams.  So, it was unexpectedly surprising to see the hope, compassion and beauty in the creations that resulted from this year’s Stuck at Prom Duck Tape Challenge.  Browsing the 100’s of jaw-dropping entries on the contest’s website (https://www.duckbrand.com/stuck-at-prom/2020-gallery), there was not a single Covid Sucks, self-pitying design in the bunch.  Instead, you can find tributes to essential workers and Black Lives Matter, mottos of solidarity, and an artful nod to “making lemonade.”  Knowing that our future is in the hands of these thoughtful young people is perhaps the most encouraged I’ve felt during this entire pandemic.

Dress by Peyton M - frontline workers 

June 15, 2020

Covid Commissions

Various WPA Virtual Commissions - see link below

Physical distancing and other economic challenges, resulting from the coronavirus, have taken a huge toll on artists’ livelihood.   Currently, many existing arts grants have been either cut or postponed, in order for governments to reallocate funding towards critical services like health care, transportation and housing.  And while I believe that the arts are as critical as breathing, full-well contributing to our physiological, psychological and self-actualizing needs, they still fall pretty far down most people’s interpretation of Maslow’s hierarchy.

Thankfully, there have been numerous emergency relief funds available to pick up the financial slack for artists.  So, these have provided much needed temporary help to cover living expenses.   But they haven’t necessarily supported the creation of new work.  Fortunately though, some institutions have recognized the essentiality of the arts by putting them front and centre of their funding priorities.   One such organization is the Guggenheim, whose board and donors contributed $150,000 to their Works & Process Virtual Commissioning fund which supported performing artists from a variety of mediums to create up to 5-minute video pieces from home.  Like Cooped, a project I referenced on June 4th, all of the resulting works can be viewed here:

https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLJ08rQmWB63RFC3avQF-nDsneUXLrUd4X

As I mentioned earlier, we dabbled in a little commissioning ourselves, during quarantine. And here is the promised finished product by Natalie Warkentin (@morningmusings), the very talented artist of Bloom: A beautiful process of becoming.   Her playful, vibrant piece has made a world of difference to our daily joy, with the inordinant amount of time that we usual out-and-abouters have been spending at home!  And we were also thrilled to learn that it has, indirectly, already led to a second commission for her.

June 16, 2020

Piano Play

In surveying my peers, I’ve noticed that this has been a time for reconnecting with long-lost friends.  As some of these old relationships have resurfaced for me, one of my favorite “icebreakers” has been to ask what new pursuits they’ve enjoyed during this period.  For many, it’s been sourdough starters; others gardening; and some, learning French.  But I’ve also found that many adults are taking up instruments, which makes me extremely happy.  I can’t tell you how many times, throughout my career, after mentioning to a stranger, on a plane or elsewhere, that I was a flutist, they replied “Oh, I wish I played an instrument,” ... almost as if they were already dead.   My habitual response is always to encourage adult music-making, and it’s one of the reasons that the majority of our non-profits’ arts programs target adult populations.  While I fully support early childhood musical and artistic development, I don’t think these opportunities are nearly as lacking as those for “big kids”.  One of my friends, in an effort to brush up on her Grade 4 childhood piano skills, recently asked if I could recommend some playable, accessible pieces in a variety of genres (from film scores to pop to classical).  Since keyboard or piano seems to be the most common new instrument for people to learn later in life (with perhaps only ukulele as a close second), I thought it would be fun to post the list that I shared with her.  Each of the scores, below, is available online, for free or purchasable download, and generally requires the player to use only one finger, in either hand, at the same time.    For a final extra tip: Musescore.com has a 30-day free trial, during which you can download to your heart’s delight!

Regina Spektor The Call (from Chronicles of Narnia)

Sufjan Stevens Mystery of Love (from Call Me By Your Name)

Erik Satie Gymnopedie #1-3, & Le Tango Perpetual

Arvo Part Fur Alina

Olafur Arnalds Tomorrow’s Song

Thomas Neumann Theme from American Beauty

Yann Tiersen Valse d’Amelie

Icelandic pianist, singer/songwriter, Olafur Arnalds

June 17, 2020

Cause and Effect

I love the music of language.  Perhaps it’s why my transition from flutist to writer has felt so natural.  I rarely remember the lyrics to songs, instead hearing the syllables as a collection of phonetic melodies.  I also experience sounds somewhat synaesthetically (synaesthesia being the neurological condition where certain senses, which are not normally connected, join or merge together.  Like certain alphabetic letters being associated with certain tastes, or particular smells being connected to sounds).  For me, musical sonorities have always been strongly linked to specific colors or shapes.  And the geometry of certain words have very distinct and often pleasurable textures when they bounce around my mouth.  Perhaps my favorite example of this is the Buddhist word for the “interconnectedness of all things”: Pratītyasamutpāda. More clearly defined, this term refers to dependent origination, or dependent arising, a Buddhist philosophy which states that all phenomena arise in dependence upon other phenomena.  Simply put, it’s the law of cause and effect.  The far-reaching global butterfly effect of Covid has made all of us keenly aware of this law.  Like never before, we are now considering the consequences of our actions in a myriad of ways: like whether or not to touch a pedestrian crossing button with our hands, scratch our nose when it itches, or hug an aging parent.  So, while the threat of this virus has had huge negative repercussions for many people’s physical and mental health, I can not deny that there is also a positive way in which it has reminded us of our interconnectedness.  Of course, it’s a horrific shame that it took a deadly pandemic to wake us up to they symbiotic nature of all things.   And, for my generation and those younger than me, (particularly in North America and other cultures who have not experienced war or famine or a health epidemic, first-hand, for more than half a century), it may only be global warming that has demanded we truly consider how our behavior impacts the people and environment around us.  However, even the impact of that seems too large and slow for most to fully fathom.  It’s why we still drive like fiends, strangle turtles with our plastics, and fly to Hawaii for weekend getaways (and, of this sin, I shamefully confess I’m guilty too!).  

So, we clearly need all of the reminders we can get, which makes this recent contest I learned about all the more fitting.  There is perhaps no one who has more artfully or playfully illustrated the nature of phenomenological cause and effect than Rube Goldberg.  Maybe you have seen his machines that combine cuckoo clocks, toy rockets, ping pong balls and string in elaborate chains of events that result in a single action.  The band OK Go is famous for music videos crafted around such devices.  And here, you can check out an absolutely brilliant one of theirs, with a message that we all need to hear right now, This Too Shall Pass: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qybUFnY7Y8w

Everyday folks have also been trying their hand at making such contraptions, for the sole honor of being named winner of the recent Rube Goldberg Soap Challenge.  And you’ll be amazed at what this Toronto family devised to earn the crown: https://www.cbc.ca/radio/asithappens/as-it-happens-tuesday-edition-1.5604697/toronto-family-thrilled-and-a-little-bit-surprised-to-win-rube-goldberg-challenge-1.5604698

June 18, 2020

Sensibility

My Uncle Len, a playwright and educator who has engaged in community arts throughout his career, has been a constant muse for me.  But more than professional expertise, it has been his sensibilities that have served as my true inspiration.  Len defines sensibility as “how we see, what we focus on, affirm and move towards in life.” He is so convinced it is the subject most necessary to study, at this time, that he has written a book about it - his life manifesto, if you will.

Len is simply one of my favorite people on earth.  It’s hard not to adore a guy who decorates his exquisite garden with found objects, runs each of his theatre pieces as benefits for various charities, and tries paddleboarding for the first time at 85.  This is right in keeping with the sensibilities he holds to be most critical in life, “beauty, fairness, and playfulness.”  And while he’s worked on this piece for years, its message could not be more well-timed.  Because, to use his words, imagine how effectively we could deal with pandemics, police brutality, and global warming, “if only everyone was rooting for everyone.”

Len’s Einstein likeness is not lost on anyone.  And he has made him (and his physicist pal, Niels Bohr) the subject of many of his theatre pieces, not because of their scientific prowess but because they are prime models of “beauty, fairness, and playfulness” themselves.  

Like Len’s inspirations, Einstein and Niels Bohr, he possesses the rare ability to find unified principles in seemingly disparate things.  In Sensibility, a child’s wonder for a butterfly is illustrated to be as important an ingredient for the welfare of humanity as the thoughtfulness these giants’ exercised, advising on the development of the atomic bomb.  Through Len’s unique lens, the reader understands fairness from the perspective of a fifth grader dealing with bullying to a physicist harboring Jews in World War II.  We see the critical need for playfulness in everything from driving a junk truck to making a theatre piece.  And now, just as the specter of a dangerous virus is re-awakening our sensibilities to affect social change with unprecedented speed, this book is a perfect tale for the times.  It concludes with the prescient and hopeful story of 1,500 activists, linked hand-in-hand at the Encirclement of Rocky Flats, while they protest a nuclear plant in 1983, ultimately resulting in its shut down.  This exquisite, slender volume is packed with instructions on how to live a compassionate and fertile life.  And the beautiful equation it proposes is: Essential life skills = Mastering a Childlike Quality squared (E=mc2).  

Just released on Amazon, it is now available here:

https://www.amazon.com/Sensibility-Children-Albert-Einstein-Niels/dp/B088B59P9Z/ref=sr_1_6?dchild=1&keywords=sensibility&qid=1591823421&s=books&sr=1-6

June 19, 2020

Comfort with Impermanence

Historically, humans have gone to preposterous lengths to deny and defy their impermanence.  From Egyptian mummies, to cryogenic freezing, to time capsules left for future or alien populations to learn of our legacy.  One such preservationist effort was the Voyager Golden Record - a 12-inch gold-plated copper disk curated by Carl Sagan, and sent to space with the 1979 launch, to portray the diversity of life and culture on Earth to whomever might find it.  In addition to photos of athletes, mathematical formulas, and mothers with child, are recordings of birdsong, speech in 50+ languages, Bach, Chuck Berry, Indigenous songs and Indian ragas.  To judge, for yourself, the accuracy of this audio/visual snapshot of human worth, you can listen to the full playlist here: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL4D51474AB7BE5595

Despite these attempts to ameliorate our fears about our own mortality, our anxiety persists.  And now, in these particularly uncertain times, with viral stats, regulations and restrictions changing on a daily basis, more than ever, we need tools to help us become more comfortable with impermanence.  

For me, mindfulness meditation is the most expedient way to come to terms with the fundamental truth that all states of being are fleeting and everything is in constant flux.  As we become the Watcher rather than the Doer, we observe that our thoughts and feelings are as fleeting as the phenomena around us.  And simply recognizing and accepting this can actually bring great comfort.   Poet Mary Oliver understood this well, as she describes evocatively in her poem, In Blackwater Woods.

Look, the trees are turning their own bodies into pillars of light, are giving off the rich fragrance of cinnamon and fulfillment, the long tapers of cattails are bursting and floating away over the blue shoulders of the ponds, and every pond, no matter what its name is, is nameless now. Every year everything I have ever learned in my lifetime leads back to this: the fires and the black river of loss whose other side is salvation, whose meaning none of us will ever know. To live in this world you must be able to do three things: to love what is mortal; to hold it against your bones knowing your own life depends on it; and, when the time comes to let it go, to let it go.

And so, too, I think it is time to let this blog go.  At least for now.  It feels, in its own way, like a time capsule of a very potent moment in our lives.  And, as that, this infintissimal drop in the bucket of human thought feels complete.  So, while it can seem frightening to be reminded of the speck in the universe that human history truly is, I actually take great solace from understanding our smallness.  On this note, I will return to the same text that consoled me early in lock down.  I also shared this with my dear Uncle Len, whose 87th birthday just happens to be today.  As all people his age, his life has been particularly disrupted by this virus.  But as someone who appreciates physics from the persective of the beautiful dance we all do with each other and the cosmos, he received these words with particular gratitude.   It is a passage from Maria Popova’s March 18th Brainspickings newsletter, published just one day after the world shut down:  

“Meanwhile, someplace in the world, somebody is making love and another a poem.  Elsewhere in the universe, a star manyfold the mass of our third-rate sun is living out its final moments in a wild spin before collapsing into a black hole, its exhale bending spacetime itself into a well of nothingness that can swallow every atom that ever touched us and every datum we ever produced, every poem and statue and symphony we’ve ever known - an entropic spectacle insentient to questions of blame and mercy - devoid of why...The atoms that huddled for a cosmic blink around the shadow of self will return to the seas that made us.  What will survive of us are shoreless seeds and stardust.”  

This final entry is my 64th, a number that has been my favorite since I was a small girl, for its symmetric beauty (8 squared, 4 to the 3rd,  2 to the 5th).  Interestingly, this powerful number is also frequently referenced in spiritual texts and throughout pop culture (the number of generations from Adam to Jesus; the number of “tantras” in Hinduism, the number of squares on a chess board, the number of crayons in the popular Crayola pack, and the number of Hexagons in the I-Ching).  The meaning of Hexagon 64 is “unfinished business.”  Therefore, the story, of course, will go on.  Whatever windswept seedling will take root next, however, I do not yet know...

64th Hexagon combination in the I-Ching

[pixelprinny]

Ohai There

Whoops, kinda neglected this the last few days. Been playing Nier instead, mostly. 

Well, it started with me impulse buying Hollow Knight cause it was on sale for $10 and playing some of that. Not really sold on it from the few hours I’ve played so far, honestly. It’s got Dark Souls elements to it but they kinda just feel thrown in there just for the sake of it, and it felt like benches (their version of bonfires) are more sparse than DS’s bonfires, so running back felt like a real slog at times.

Of course I say all this fully aware of my initial disdain for most of Dark Souls core mechanics that have grown on me over time. It could be that I just need to spend more time with the game, but nothing about it has really grabbed me, yet. I’ll go back to it at some point, I’m sure.

Speaking of games that didn’t grab me with their initial impression - Nier: Automata! I gave that a go waaaay back when it first showed up on PC, played an hour or so and then put it down for months. But finally gave it another shot and after one rough part involving having to backtrack through an area where they decided to have level 30 mobs spawn (and I was level 5), the game sunk its claws into me good.

It certainly won’t win any awards in the graphical department. It’s got some nice set pieces, but overall, the game honestly looks like a PS2 title in many places. Texture poppin is rampant, low-rez LODs hang around wayyy too long, often not switching until you’re right against the wall, and there’s a very noticeable lack of clutter or foliage. Compare the city ruins of Nier to those of Horizon and it’s like night and day.

To be fair, Horizon’s budget and development time completely dwarfs Nier’s, so it should stand to reason that Horizon is going to look miles better. But as a consumer who has the choice of paying $80 dollars for one game or the other, you can’t help but make such comparisons, regardless. Besides, there’s ways to make a game look gorgeous without spending $45 million dollars to do so, and to its credit, Nier manages to do it in a few places. 

But graphics smaphics. They’re the icing on the cake, right? It’s all about the gameplay and the story, and Nier shone pretty well in both departments. It’s Platinum doing the combat so of course that shit is gonna be good. Dodging felt right, combos were fun, plenty of different attacks and weapon styles, and the potion/weapon change menus worked perfectly. I wish all games had such a system for quick using potions/weapon swapping/etc;it just felt so intuitive and natural. 

As for the story, I feel like Automata focuses more on the world than its predecessor. The original Nier was all about character development, imo. Learning about Kaine, Emil, Nier, etc. In Automata, you kinda know what you’re getting as soon as you’re introduced to the characters, apart from a few reveals and such. What the story is really focused on is uncovering the mysteries of the war between androids and machines, figuring out why machines (and androids) are so obsessed with emulating humans, and just what exactly happened to humans. 

Don’t get me wrong, though. The characters are all good and feel well-developed. My favorite of the bunch being Pascal, the leader of a friendly machine colony. His polite, quiet optimism felt infectious and I was always delighted when he showed up.

I’m also happy to report that the endings didn’t make me tableflip like the first Nier’s did. The story’s got some typical JRPG stuff going on, but at the end of the day it made sense and it earned its twists and craziness, in my eyes.

I do feel that playthrough B was completely unnecessary, however. You pretty much just go through the game a second time, but play as 9S instead of 2B and get a few different scenes and scenarios here and ther... mostly hacking scenarios, uggg. 

So the hacking minigames are by far the weakest part of the game. Byyyy far. They range from bearable to frustratingly tedious. You sorta play a mini bullet hell shooter for each hacking minigame. The times its just you shooting your way through a maze to the end are fine; I wish they were all like that. The times they’re like a Touhou boss, though, omg, just let me die. And those times will be for mundane shit like opening a main quest chest or hacking a weak enemy or whatever. Just not fun at all and constantly made me wish I was still using 2B.

I suppose I can’t talk about a Nier game without mentioning the music. Honestly, the first game’s got a better OST and many of the stand out songs from this were actually remixes of tracks from the first game, like Grandma. Of course there’s some good new songs, too, but quite a number of times I found the songs actually kind of abrasive, with the lyrics being a bit too loud and drowning everything out (such as in the desert apartment ruins or the castle ruins), and I ended up dropping my music volume pretty significantly. But overall, the OST is still very good.

Anywho, would I recommend the game? Yeah, I would, although $80 (Canadian) is kiiiinda steep. It took me about 30 hours to finish, though I have plenty of sidequest stuff I didn’t do. But also, 5 or 6 of those hours are playthrough B which I barely even count since its doing much of the same stuff a second time. So the game’s not super long, and the world isn’t all that big.... There’s like 8 or so main locations you revisit numerous times. Maybe wait for a sale or sail the seven seas in search of booty, if ye know what I mean. 

Baiiiiii~

[rebekahsremarkable]

Finding A Man Worth Keeping

My parents worked a lot when I was a kid.They’re business owners (my Dad and his wife, that is), and so they didn’t find much time to explain to me what dating is like, or what I should look for in a man. My Dad tried his best to explain who the perfect man is in his eyes, usually during our commutes to school or over the dinners I’d make the family before he had to rush to bed. All I knew from those conversations was that when I was looking for the perfect man (because you know, that’s what women do- look for the perfect man *rolls my eyes at patriarchy*), he would need to have a good credit score, a running car, and a five-year plan.

Now, being that I was seventeen at this time, none of those things made much sense to me, and of course guys my age barely had pubes, let alone a vehicle of their own. When I split up with my high school boyfriend, my parents took note at my stages of heartbreak (I.E, lots of Greys Anatomy and Say Yes to the Dress).

My birthday had finally come around, and I didn’t have anyone to spend it with besides my siblings. My parents weren’t home when I went to bed that night, but when I did- I found a book waiting for me called “Finding a Man Worth Keeping” with a bright yellow sticky note on it. It was from my Step Mom, a wholesome, good-hearted Christian woman.

I laughed at the book, at first. It had a ridiculous looking white woman on the front- her hair in an updo, with a veil sprouting from her high bun. She smiled directly at me, flashing a ring on her wedding finger, as if her eyes were screaming “His name is Walter, and he manages a hedge fund. We’re honeymooning in Turks and Caicos”.

I threw the book aside, and thanked my Step Mom for it later. I didn’t think much about it, and it was out of mind for years, until I found it a few weeks ago.

When I found the book, I was actually looking for my Buffy the Vampire Slayer graphic novel in some forgotten boxes in my basement. I blew the dust off and still saw that yellow sticky note on it, and I met eyes with the same bride that had taunted me so many years before.

“Bitch.” I scoffed. It seemed so trivial and disheartening to my inner feminist agenda that a book had to be written for how a woman can find a man worth keeping. Isn’t there other things to read about? Such as the future of the next generation of Vampire Slayers, perhaps? Oddly enough, I guess to see if I could find it as some kind of joke to laugh at later, I took it with me upstairs once I found the book I was actually looking for.

I sprawled out on my bed and cozied up with my comic. Ah, this is the life. I opened my treasure to the page I last remembered leaving off at- Buffy is ready to face the Twilight- a secret society in which-

My eyes drew away from the pages I was holding and drifted to the book. Why am I so curious about these pages that were first introduced to me in my teens? I’m not looking for Disney Princess kind of love anymore. I watch Sex and the City, which means, I’m pretty fucking sophisticated now. I do things like order cosmopolitans and go out with my girlfriends and go on dates with fitting young men. I don’t need a book to tell me how to find a man.

Am I single? Yes. But men are everywhere. It’s not difficult to find one. It would be pretty nice if I saw less of them, actually. I’ve haven’t been able to get the burning smell of Axe body spray out of my nostrils since the seventh grade.

I then noticed the only cursive writing on the cover. “Finding a Man Worth Keeping”.

I felt my arm slowly reach towards the book when my phone lit up and buzzed. Although I was single, I recently had struck up an interest in a young man by the name of Patrick. His text read sweetly:

“I guess I’m just shocked.” He said, in regards to my interest in him.

I was a little shocked too. Not only was Patrick a few years younger than me, but he was also far from my type. Patrick, with certain shoes on, stood at about six foot. He dressed like a nervous new ninth grade teacher who was desperate to be called something he thought was hip like ‘S-Dawg’. He wore square glasses to hide the fact that his cheeks were a little chunky- something that made him look younger, yet was his most endearing quality.

Patrick took me out for a date a few days later, and when cleaning my room before his car pulled into my driveway, I put the book up on my shelf, hidden behind my Captain America’s and Astonishing X-Men’s.

It wasn’t long before Patrick and I started spending all our spare time together. Weekends were compiled of his friends hanging out with my friends, and me making dinner for him. We bickered often- over everything- whether Amy Schumer was funny (she is), whether We’re The Millers is a comedy classic(it’s not), and whether we should be dating other people.

The latter was a particular bickering instant that escalated into an argument: My side saying that without a title, dating others is fair grounds. His argument being, if you’re happy with someone- a title doesn’t matter, and if you want to build up to the title- you shouldn’t see anyone else.

I admired how Patrick was so passionate about keeping me to himself, yet I was settled on the ‘Can’t Have Your Cake and Eat It To’ philosophy. Patrick’s reply to this, was simply, “Why would I have the cake unless I had the intent to eat it?”

So, imagine a twist when I wake up to a text from Patrick saying he, “Can’t give me what I want.” It sounded like a familiar out.

Ah, and he thought he was original. A 2017 Man’s “I just can’t give you what you want”, is a 1997 Man’s “It’s not me it’s you”. It’s a nice sentiment, but we both know what you’re saying here. Just like the 1997′s breakup statement actually means “It totally is you, it’s not me at all.” The 2017′s statement means, “I just don’t want to give you what you want.”

I was especially confused because never asked him for anything. He ended the text with the timeless classic, “I hope we can be friends.” Ouch. For some reason, I’d much rather he say he hated me.

I lay in my bed and looked up at the ceiling, imagining the popcorn-like texture making shapes like clouds. Somehow my eyes again met the binding of that book.

As weeks passed, I focused on switching careers, finding something almost doubling my current salary. I was ecstatic. I decided to throw a celebratory get together with old friends and new. As I got ready for the party, with my new dress on and my hair down- I imagined myself in a millennial’s dream world: paying off student debt, having more money to travel, and being more independent. In this moment, in this particular dream world, there was no man by my side. No man worth keeping. Just me.

That moment was sweet, but fleeting. My phone lit up, and I froze looking at the name on the screen. It was Ian(see previous posts), and somehow seeing his name turned my dream world into nothing but an insecure nightmare.

“What are your plans tonight?” He asked, through Facebook Messenger. “Do you want to go out?”

“I can’t,” I responded, nonchalantly. Like my metaphorical feathers hadn’t been ruffled. “I’m having some people over tonight. It’s fun, but, it’s just my friends.”

“Oh,” he stated, briefly. “Have fun.”

And fun I had. Though the sudden correspondence with the tanned skinned and bearded devil certainly threw me off, it didn’t steer me completely off course. I was hammered. And as my best friend helped escort me into bed, my phone jolted. I answered it without a care.

“Gooooo for Rebekah.” I grinned, holding the phone to my ear.

“Hey.” Ian said. I could recognize his voice even if there were a thousand people in the room.

I could tell you our whole conversation. In fact, I almost did. But you, my loyal readers, understand this correspondence. We’ve seen this play out before, haven’t we? And to be honest, I could end the story here, and you’d know what would happen, wouldn’t you? It’d be Rebekah crying alone. Re-discovering her self worth, coming to her senses, and then move on until the next time, right?

So let’s fast forward a few days. Let’s fast forward passed the days of text conversations talking about apologies. Passed the funny quips and inside jokes. The admiration we both expressed to each other. We’ll even keep going passed when he asked me to watch him be alpha-male with his friends at their athletic games, cheering him on with the other girls on the sidelines. Passed his little comments about me being, “The one who got away.” Passed when his friends said behind his back I was too good for him, and that Ian knew that too. Passed celebrating his wins, and giving him a hug when he lost. We’ll go passed when he kissed me on the forehead and told me he “valued” me as a person, for who I am beyond any physical aspect alone. We’ll even skip over when he slept with me.

Let’s just go to when he froze me out the next day. Let’s just briefly mention that he re-blocked me on social media, but made sure there was one post visible on his most popular social media platform that read:

“I want that forever type of love…But maybe they just don’t make that type for me.”

To the men who read this blog- you may not get why that hurt so much. Men, by instinct, understand sex by it’s textbook definition. Women, intuitively, understand sex also by what sex stands for. When a woman has sex with a man she cares about, she willingly gives a piece of herself she can never get back. This piece, she feels, she can live without, because if this piece helps this man become whole- it’s worth the cost of it making her incomplete.

Ian accepted this piece of me, as he always does. He takes up a collection of my pieces. The problem is, he doesn’t use them to help make him whole- he never needed them in the first place. He only wants to collect them as trophies.

So, when reading that statement, typed only eleven hours after he graciously accepted a piece of me I can never get back… It was as if my heart was ripped out of my chest. It was as if I was wasted potential. The parts of me I had given him, I couldn’t give to someone else. He manipulated my once sky-rocketing self worth into a dwindling void that felt I was, and never could be “forever love” material.

My body sank into my bed as I let out just one good cry. I turned to my side and saw again that binding of the book I had put up some weeks earlier.

“Finding a Man Worth Keeping” I said, aloud in my empty room.

I wondered if there was a book like this for men. I was sure there wouldn’t be- if it existed, there would’ve been too many contradictions. I was sure it would say things like:

“Don’t marry her if she sleeps with you.” “Don’t marry her if she doesn’t sleep with you.” “Don’t marry her if she is too eager.” “But don’t marry her if she plays games.” “Don’t marry her if she rushes into things.” “But also don’t marry her if she doesn’t give you what you want.”

I cried at the thought that, though this book set the precedent that it’s the man who is at fault for not being kept- I was the person Ian had decided could never be worthy of his “forever kind of love”. Rather than the issue of finding a man worth keeping, am I just not a woman worth keeping?

Before I knew it, I sat on my bed, cross-legged, and opened the book to a random page. The author, happily married, had asked the reader to make a fictional ad for her perfect man, and to be as specific as possible.

Shrugging off the feeling that I was actually ashamed to be going through this exercise, I grabbed a pen and paper, and began writing the following:

“WANTED MAN WHO: Is gentle. Not the kind of gentle in which he just doesn’t yell at me or anything. He’s a just a gentle human being. He loves all lives- not just his own. He’s internally confident. Not loud or boastful, but loves to crack a good joke, sometimes at my expense- but I’ll get a few good ones in, too. He smiles at the little things. He thinks the mornings I wake up hungover with my eyelash hanging off my cat eyed-stained eye lid, I’m the sexiest person in the world. He kisses me even though I have morning breath. Even though he may not understand the world I live in, he strives to. He’s honest with me. And not in a way where he just doesn’t lie… He’s honest with me about why he is the way he is. He tells me about his mom and his dad and that he’s always been self conscious about something weird like a third nipple or the fact that he can’t turn left. He’s emotionally strong. He gets me mad and he wants to talk about it. He lets me rub his back and he insists on rubbing my feet after. And most of all, without a doubt in my mind… he’s mine.”

I underlined that last word. Mine. For some reason, in this moment, it was important that I emphasized that. The book then asked me to do the same thing, except, in this ad, I am writing down an advertisement of the men I have dated. The author mentioned to be specific as possible, using examples.

“WANTED MAN WHO: is self centered. Who believes his needs stand before mine. One who yells at me when he’s drunk, and that it’s my fault he drinks. Or a man who reminds me of the other women who want him. A man who is unsure if I’m actually the one, or if I’m just familiar. A man who uses me as a grooming tool for his ego. A man who holds me like he won’t let go, but then he does anyways. This man can also not want me but also doesn’t want me with anyone else. See also, men who claim they want to build something great but refuse to do the leg work. He may or may not be a liar, but he’s convincing enough that I don’t care. He may also be completely convinced he’s a “good guy” only because he feels slight guilt after the fact. And let’s not forget, the most important one, he loves to give false hope and even more- he loves to rip it away.”

The author then asked me to compare my list. “What are the biggest differences in these ads? Why do you feel these ads are so different?” The author asked.

I shut the book and saw that somehow it was three am. I cuddled up in my favorite Spiderman pj’s and lay my head on my fluffiest pillow as I thought about the exercise I just did. The things I hated most in men were the things that drew me to them, or what drew me back.

I was especially disappointed in the fact that a self-help book had to help me reach this conclusion. But why did I have to build a man worth keeping?

I drew myself back to my first initial question: Aren’t there better things to do than read a book on how to find a good man?

A light bulb went off- and my body sat straight up. I turned my lamp on and flipped the page on the notebook I had wrote in earlier and made an all-new ad I felt was much more important:

WANTED, IN SEARCH OF: Adventure. Love. Not just romantic kind of love, a love for myself and others. A deeper sense of belonging. A deeper sense of authenticity. More girl friends. More guy friends! MORE FRIENDS! A woman who speaks up for herself. A woman who embraces her sexuality, her prowess, and her inner being. A woman who tries everything once. An open woman. A woman’s woman. A woman who drives fast when it’s exhilarating and drives slow when she knows it’s time to enjoy the view. A woman who doesn’t care what a man thinks…

A woman who knows she’s a woman worth keeping.”

*************************

Thanks for reading. This one’s password protected because it’s especially personal this time. I really appreciate you taking the time to read, and I hope you enjoyed and understood and related to the material. Doing this keeps me sane. It keeps me Rebekah.

[susantregre]

Easy Vegan Sugar Cookies with Pink Frosting

Happy Saturday, friends! It’s been a while since I posted a recipe on the weekend, but many of you seemed eager for these festive cookies after I gave a few sneak peeks on Insta Stories. I figured since I had the recipe all tested and ready, why wait until Monday to share? No one should have to wait for Valentine’s (or Galentine’s) Day dessert, I say! Plus, if snow is keeping you at home this weekend, these are a fun treat to whip up with the family indoors. My kiddos love cutting shapes into the dough and piping frosting into their mouths onto the cookies—they also know how to have a hoot with those sprinkles, as you might notice in the very last photo below!

I first started testing vegan sugar cookies several years ago, but I never quite landed on a final recipe that I was perfectly happy with. I recently had a couple requests for cut-out cookies leading up to Valentine’s Day, so I dug up my previous trials (thank you, Google Docs!!), and started again. Well, as it turned out, I didn’t end up using my old notes one bit. I did a complete 180, using my trusted Gluten-Free Vegan Graham Cracker recipe as a base. After some major recipe tweaking, I’m excited to finally have a go-to vegan sugar cookie recipe in my repertoire. This version is so much more wholesome than my previous attempts, too! #winning

I like to use a combination of almond flour and light spelt flour in this recipe—almond flour yields a tender crumb and lends the cookies a boost of moisture and buttery flavour, while light spelt flour gives a nutty, wholesome taste overall. You can swap the light spelt flour for regular all-purpose flour if you’d prefer, just be sure to see my tip in the recipe beforehand as you’ll need to adjust the measurements slightly. I’ve also provided a tip for using whole-grain spelt flour instead of light. If you try any other swaps, please be sure to let me know in a review below! I love hearing from you, and your comments are so helpful for others who might have similar questions. 

PS: A shout-out to these heart-shaped cookie cutters…I’m seriously in love with them!! You can find them on Amazon. Happy baking :)

Easy Vegan Sugar Cookies

Vegan, soy-free

These wholesome vegan sugar cookies come together in a snap—there’s no waiting for the dough to chill before you roll it out, so you can have a batch of tender cookies out of the oven in less than 30 minutes! With lightly golden bottoms, crisp outer edges, and soft, delicate centres, these cookies are a perfect light-tasting base for my festive, naturally coloured pink frosting. If you aren’t planning to frost your cookies, you may want to add a touch more cane sugar to sweeten the dough. The cookies aren’t overly sweet as-is, but the frosting really makes them pop!

Yield 25 to 35 cookies

Prep time 30 Minutes

Cook time 8 Minutes

Total time 38 Minutes

Ingredients:

For the wet ingredients:

3 tablespoons (45 mL) grapeseed oil or other light-tasting oil

3 tablespoons (45 mL) pure maple syrup

3 tablespoons (45 mL) almond milk

2 tablespoons (30 mL) brown rice syrup

1 1/2 teaspoons ground flaxseed

1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

For the dry ingredients:

3/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons (82 g) almond flour

1 cup plus 2 tablespoons (160 g) light all-purpose spelt flour*

5 tablespoons (40 g) arrowroot starch**

2 tablespoons (30 g) natural cane sugar

1/2 teaspoon fine sea salt

1/2 teaspoon baking soda

For the Pink Frosting:

1/2 teaspoon beet powder/crystals***

1 teaspoon (5 mL) hot water

1/4 cup (50 g) vegan butter

1 1/4 cups (165 g) powdered icing sugar, sifted if necessary

1 1/2 to 2 teaspoons (7.5 to 10 mL) almond milk, or as needed

Pinch fine sea salt

Sprinkles for decorating (optional)

Directions:

Preheat the oven to 350°F (180°C) and line one very large baking sheet (or two medium-sized sheets) with parchment paper.

To a small bowl, add the wet ingredients: grapeseed oil, maple syrup, almond milk, brown rice syrup, ground flaxseed, and vanilla. Whisk until combined.

To a large bowl, add the dry ingredients: almond flour, spelt flour, arrowroot starch, cane sugar, salt, and baking soda. Whisk until combined.

Pour the wet mixture over the dry mixture and stir until it comes together as a heavy dough. Knead the dough a few times with your hands until no patches of flour remain on the bottom of the bowl. Be careful not to overwork the dough. If the dough is too dry, add almond milk one teaspoon at a time and knead until the desired consistency is reached. If the dough is too wet, add more spelt flour and knead again. Shape the dough into a large ball, then break it so you are left with two even halves.

Place a nonstick mat or large piece of parchment paper on the counter. Place one ball of dough in the middle and cover the ball with a second piece of parchment paper. Using a rolling pin, roll out the dough until it is 1/8- to 1/4-inch thick. Be careful not to roll the dough too thinly or the cut-out shapes will break as you transfer them to the baking sheet. Cut the rolled-out dough into shapes using your desired cookie cutters. Carefully transfer each cookie onto the prepared baking sheet(s), placing each an inch apart. Repeat this process until you’ve used up all of the remaining dough.

Bake the cookies for 7 to 9 minutes until their bottoms are very lightly goldened (the cookies should not bake to golden brown or they’ll become too crisp after cooling). Cool the cookies completely on the baking sheet.

Meanwhile, prepare the Pink Frosting: In a small bowl or mug, combine the beet powder along with 1 teaspoon of very hot water. Whisk until the beet powder is dissolved. Set aside.

Add the vegan butter to a large bowl. With electric beaters, beat the butter until smooth, then add the powdered sugar, milk, and salt as well as 1/2 teaspoon of the prepared beet juice. Starting on low speed, beat until smooth, gradually increasing the speed as the ingredients combine. If the frosting is too thick, you can thin it with a bit more almond milk and continue beating until smooth. If it’s too thin, you can add a little more powdered sugar and beat again until smooth.

Spread or pipe the frosting onto the cooled cookies and top with sprinkles (if using). Serve and enjoy! Leftover cookies can be stored in an airtight container in the fridge for 1 to 2 days, or tightly wrapped and frozen for up to 4 weeks.

Tips:

* Instead of light spelt flour, you can use 3/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons (150 g) white all-purpose flour. The flavour won’t be as complex or nutty as the spelt version, but it’ll work in a pinch. Alternatively, you can use 1 1/4 cups (200 g) whole-grain spelt flour. If using whole-grain spelt flour, I suggest shaving a minute off the bake time. This version produces the most wholesome and earthy flavour of the bunch, and yields a denser cookie, too. Another option is to sift the whole-grain spelt flour before using to refine its texture. In order, my preferred flour variations would be: light all-purpose spelt flour, regular all-purpose flour, and whole-grain spelt flour last.

  ** You can probably sub the arrowroot starch with cornstarch, but I haven’t tested it.

  *** If you don't have beet powder on hand feel free to use your desired red food colouring. Beet juice may work, too!

  To keep this recipe soy-free, be sure to use a soy-free vegan butter in the frosting.

Any guesses who decorated this one above? ;) Cookie goals! 

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from Oh She Glows http://ift.tt/2H3Cw80

[stylishleeds]

Hi CurlFriends! For my fellow Americans who are probably still stuffed from eating way more than you should have yesterday for Thanksgiving…hello to you too! I know exactly how you’re feeling because I’m still stuffed too.

Last weekend I attended the final leg of the Quintessential Naturals Tour in Miami and all I have to say is BRAVO! BRAVO! BRAVO! If you’ve been on the hunt for a natural hair event built around education, conversation, PRODUCTS, and being able to mingle with other positive and affirming women, Quintessential Natural Tour is a must attend event.

I pretty much found out about the event on social media, because a day could not pass without me seeing it on my Instagram timeline. Eventually it peaked my interest and I looked into the event. To my surprise, I realized that I actually have crossed paths several times with the founder. Now I knew I just had to go!

Sadly I had absolutely no one to go with and I was allowing that to prevent me from going. Days before the event I still had not yet purchased my ticket because I was terrified of attending all by myself. I talked myself out of attending over and over again [something I unfortunately do far too often] and literally a few hours before the event I purchased a ticket, called a ‘Lyft’ and all by myself I was on my way to Quintessential Naturals.

I know it may seem trivial to many but going to large events gives me uncontrollable anxiety and I always feel more at ease when I have a shoulder to lean on if I get overwhelmed. Well, as I got closer and closer to my destination the anxiety struck hard. While walking towards the entrance my palms started sweating [and it was a seemingly cool day out]. But the warm welcome I received at the main gate followed by several hello’s from YOU, my readers…made me suddenly feel at ease and I was ready to make the best of the day ahead.

Sabrina Boissiere is a veteran event planner and talent manager who managed to create an event for us natural hair gals to embrace our natural tresses while also having fun learning about new hair trends, products, brands and even techniques, from top influencers and business owners in the natural hair community. 

Co-Founder of Naturally Curly, Michelle Breyer spoke on a panel with influencer Janelle B of KinkyCurlyCoilyMe, along with Diane C Bailey, Global Natural Hair Stylist & Shea Moisture Ambassador and Cantu’s ambassador, Melissa Chanel. With over 200 of us in attendance we listened to the panel shine light on topics such as hair typing, accepting all hair textures, protective styling, ways to break barriers in the natural hair community, cultural appropriation, healthy hair tips and so much more.

All in all I loved every aspect of the event. From the rich panel discussion, to the informative presentations, the vendors and the SWAG BAGS filled with deluxe & FULL SIZED products! Brands like, Shea Moisture, Mielle Organics, Cantu, Aunt Jackies Curls and Coils, Honey Baby Naturals, Girl and Hair, Sasha Pure Beauty, LA Naturals were all present in my swag bag. #WINNING!

I went to the event on my own but with a very open-mind, and I left with a few new curl friends and loads of knowledge. Whenever I attend these natural hair events I always leave feeling empowered beyond measure. It’s an amazing feeling to be surrounded by waves of beautiful natural gals of different kinks and coils. I’m so happy I decided to attend Quintessential Naturals and I definitely plan on attending at least one of their tour dates set for 2018 and next time it won’t matter whether I go alone or not. Talk Soon. Nuff Love, Natasha ♥

♦ Skirt, Grass-Fields ♦ Top, FashionNova ♦ Heels, Ted Baker ♦

My Outfit

If you’re into beauty and like to keep up particularly with black YouTubers then I know you know of Jackie Aina. Am I right!!!? If you’re not, you DEFINITELY NEED to go follow her NOW! Not only is she a talented artist but she’s also one of the most honest gurus out there. For that I have so much respect for her. I also have loads of respect for her fashion sense [see what I did there]. Recently she shared a photo of herself wearing this gorgeous Ankara print dress and I immediately found myself on the companys website trying to find that exact dress in another color [wishful thinking I know]. Though the dress was nowhere to be found I still found other BOMB pieces and I had to get my hands on them.

Quintessential Naturals presented the perfect opportunity for me to wear one of these pieces from Grass-Fields. But I’ve also already worn the other two pieces I got from them too. So stay tuned for those looks in the upcoming week ♥

Quintessential Naturals Miami Hi CurlFriends! For my fellow Americans who are probably still stuffed from eating way more than you should have yesterday for Thanksgiving...hello to you too!

[3one3]

The Sequel - 859

Private vs. Public

André Schürrle, Juan Mata, other Chelsea/BVB players, and random awesome OC’s (okay they’re less random now but they’re still pretty awesome)

original epic tale

all chapters of The Sequel

The two Juan Matas’ restaurant was very popular. The food was very good and reasonably priced, the service was first rate, and the space was comfortable and interestingly decorated, so critics, foodies, and bloggers reviewed it with nothing but compliments. The younger Juan’s teammates frequented the place too, and he was often there himself, and that brought in customers as well. There were some Spanish flags up over the bar in honor of the Olympics, to go with some special cocktails, but Christina noticed the German flag hanging down behind the top shelf of liquor bottles first. There was a mirror back there, and someone was keeping a medal tally on it in colorful marker. The chart included Spain, of course, all of the nations leading the medal counts, and Great Britain. There was a separate pair of columns beside it labeled “Show Jumping”, with Germany versus “Other”. The Germans’ three medals were reflected, and “Other” just had an “X”. As if that wasn’t enough to show the recipient of two of those medals that she was a beloved member of the family who owned the joint, the spontaneous round of applause by the entire staff that greeted her when she walked in the door sure did.

Christina blushed hard and accepted hugs from Juan’s mom, dad, and sister while the servers, bussers, hostess, and bartender clapped for her, and she had to show off her hardware right away. Antonio, and Juan’s friend David, who happened to be the restaurant’s Executive Chef, also greeted her with hugs and happiness. Other diners figured out the reception when the medals came out, and many of them congratulated her when she was finally permitted past the entrance area and made her way to Juan’s favorite table, denoted by a kitschy sign on the wall that read “Rincón de Juan”, or Juan’s corner. It was set for 5- for the whole family- and there were champagne flutes already placed beside the regular wine glasses. The whole welcoming scene made Christina feel good inside, in a way she hadn’t experienced in a long time. It was like she’d made everyone proud, and that was practically unfamiliar. André, Juan, her barn family, and her team family were frequently very proud of her, and she felt that, but that pride was different than the real family kind. The players’ proud smiles and hugs weren’t the same as those of proud parents. They just couldn’t be. It was different. Christina couldn’t actually remember what it was like to see that in her own parents, so experiencing it with Juan’s was almost like déjà vu instead of recalling a solid memory. That good feeling inside made her really glad that she decided to stop in London before heading home.

There were a couple of champagne toasts to her and Dirk, and then she got to retell all of her Olympic stories again. That wasn’t getting old. It was still fun, and she was still animated and detailed in her recounting. She still wore her heart on her sleeve when she talked about her Holsteiner’s performance, and about how much he loved the medal ceremony. The two Juans came and went a bunch of times and so did the food. They had a bit of everything on the menu, just as the rider requested- her favorite croquetas, tortilla, the special house potatoes, garlicky chicken, roasted lamb, her own custom mini-paella without any unacceptable seafood, and tons of other little plates with tastes of summer in Spain. There was also some sidra, and wine. And then there really was a cake. Juan texted the request to David while his houseguest was sleeping. She thought she wasn’t getting one. The chef told her he had to tap into his distant memory to remember how to even make a cake, since dessert wasn’t really his thing. Still, he made it for her himself, and it was delicious. It was two layers of moist, course textured coconut cake seeped with a little rum and separated by “pina colada” mousse and sweet pineapple jam, covered in flaked coconut. It looked and tasted homemade, not like something one would buy in a bakery or encounter at a catered event, and that imperfection made it all the more dear to Christina, though she didn’t really know why.

“I’m so glad I’m here when David is here,” the girl at the center of all the attention announced to her best friend while the rest of the table was visiting with some family friends who came in the eat for the first time. Everyone left her alone after the spectacle of the cake delivery. There was a sparkler on it, and the staff accompanied it to do a bit of hip-hip-hooray. She was still eating her cake and sipping her champagne long after the others declared themselves stuffed. All the talking slowed down the eating. “The food is better when he cooks it.”

“Yeah, I wish he could be here more,” Juan nodded as he slid back into his seat beside her. He started to put his arm around her neck but then stopped and patted her knee instead. Her left one was folded up on the banquette. Her left shoe was abandoned on the floor. Rincón de Juan was a good place to feel at home. “His restaurant in Oviedo is rightfully more important to him.”

“Also, I love your family. And not just because they care about me and watch me on TV. Like, I genuinely love them. I know I tell you that all the time, but-“

“They love you. I didn’t invite them to dinner. I told my dad we were coming and everyone else just wanted to see you,” he shrugged. “Do you want to take the rest of the cake with you? I don’t know how to pack it up for the plane but you could have some in the morning, or again later tonight. I doubt you’ll be going to sleep soon.”

“Definitely. I can put it in my suitcase if we can find a sturdy plastic container to put it in.”

“Why don’t you put the sweatshirt on?” the Spaniard suggested when Christina visibly shivered. He could probably also feel cold on her skin where he poked at it through her pants. The hole was spread out wide when she bent her knee. He always ended up playing with the strings across the top of it and the little frayed pieces around the edges, and she always told him to stop because she was afraid he’d pull too hard at something and make her favorite jeans more distressed than the designer intended. His fiddling ceased when he helped her get his sweatshirt unstuck from her armpit. She picked the navy pullover because it looked small and had a dancing cacti graphic in the middle in bright blue. The Chelsea man had a weakness for novelty sweatshirts, but only subtle ones. The dancing cactus design made his girl smile because it was anything but subtle. She tipped over onto his right shoulder once she got it all the way on and pulled the cuffs of the sleeves into her hands so that they were covered but she could still operate her cake fork.

“I can’t believe I’m still tired,” she yawned before stuffing some more coconut goodness in her mouth and being careful not to drop any on herself.

“I think you use more energy every time you talk about the rounds than you did actually riding in them, cariña,” Juan snorted.

“The riding wasn’t tiring. All the stuff in between was. It was so intense going into the team final. We knew it was going to be close. The Frenchies were annoyingly consistent, and Kent’s amazing run of form was suddenly contagious for the other US riders, and the Dutch guys always have horses that turn up in the biggest moments. We just assumed we’d need three clears, and kind of anticipated a jump-off. And it was like...instead of being chilled about how hard it would be because that like gives you an excuse not to win, we were all like “Let’s just be perfect, ja? Everyone clear, ja. K.” And I was like...” The German girl followed her bad German guy accent with her patented “WTF” face. Juan’s body lifted with his little laugh, despite it being at least the fourth time he heard that particular aspect of her experience. He definitely didn’t need to see her expression on his shoulder to know what it was. “D Money loved that ring though. He loved the surface. I wish we could jump there every week.”

“Mhm.”

“Sorry. I’m babbling, I know. I’m tired.” Christina needn’t explain her rambling motor mouth either. The midfielder was well aware of how she got when she was overtired and still on a high.

“Let me get someone to pack up your cake and we go home,” he suggested.

“Actually, can we drive up to the observatory? It’s not that late yet.” She put her fork down and pushed her sleeve up to check her watch since her phone was on the other side of her plate and would have necessitated lifting her head off her friend. “Does your new car have a big sunroof?” Juan replaced his Audi sportwagon with a small Mercedes SUV. She didn’t like the model but she liked the Cardinal Red color- a dark, metallic shade.

“Yes, but it’s raining.” He looked down at her with a fond grin and she looked up at him with a more perplexed countenance that made a dent in her forehead and her lower lip kind of pouty. Then she mumbled that she forgot that part. Their old standby activity for random nights when just sitting together and talking seemed in order- driving up to the Royal Observatory in Greenwich Park- was only fun if there was something to see in the sky through an open panoramic moon-roof like in Christina’s old X5. A cloudy, rainy night rather made it futile. “Let’s go home, cariña.”

She knew exactly why he looked back like it was imperative that they leave soon but without pleading or acting desperate. Her visit was almost over and while they were alone together for nearly all of it, she’d also slept through most of it, or sat up Indian-style animatedly telling her stories with her hands and hopping up to point to things on the TV screen. He wants to go home and make out and have fun and actually relax instead of being the sponge for my emotions spill, she realized while inadvertently chewing on her lip. Doing weird things with her lips was another side effect of overtiredness. All I did last night was talk at him forever and then get all teary and dramatic and tell him how much I needed him to do what I did, and I’ll I’ve done today, when I wasn’t snoring, is tell him how special I am and what it entitles me to, and make him listen to me tell other people the same stuff he’s already heard. I can tooooootally go home and give him attention too, the rider thought, still blinking blankly at the center of her mental attention. Completely without thinking, she stretched up from his shoulder to kiss him, and only realized a fraction of an inch from her target that she couldn’t do what she wanted. She swerved at the last second and pressed her lips to the corner of his mouth, since she couldn’t actually reach his cheek and didn’t have time to figure out another alternative. It was so awkward that she froze there, afraid to turn away and have to see if anyone watched her bizarre kiss that felt like when she had unfortunate hug/handshake miscalculations and went to shake someone’s hand while they tried to hug her, or she thought they were doing cheek kisses but it was really just a hug. It wasn’t long that she stayed there, but it was long enough for Juan to put his hand on her chin and adjust her from hiding in her weird mistake to receiving a real kiss, on the mouth, the way lovers do it. Christina resisted and pulled away as soon as she understood what was happening.

“Dude, we can’t-“ she complained, annoyed. Her shifty eyes were already frantically sweeping the restaurant to see if anyone noticed.

“I don’t care. I just don’t.” The Spaniard’s eyes grew dark and cold, and he shook his head at her as he folded his arms. He was preparing to launch a full-on offensive and she could see it coming, unlike the kiss. He’s going to say I shouldn’t kiss him behind closed doors anymore if he can’t kiss me in public, and he has every right to feel that way, she rued. Still, that conversation couldn’t happen there.

“Don’t,” she quietly pled. “We can talk about it at home. Er, your home. Your place. Whatever.”

“Chris...” he sighed back plaintively. I hate how both of them only ever use my name when they’re frustrated and wanted to ring my neck.

“I know. I know you’re frustrated.” Her attempt to be comforting and understanding didn’t really help. Juan got up and took her cake away- to box it to go, she hoped. His mom returned to the table right after, and apologized for leaving her there alone. “No worries,” Christina told her flatly, distracted. “Juan was here.”

“Where did he go?” Mama Mata turned in her chair to look around for her son.

“Either to box up the rest of the cake for me, or to smash it to pieces and throw it in the garbage.”

“What? Why would he do that?” she laughed.

“Because I’m his girlfriend on the phone, in his flat, at his house, on my boat, and in hotels, and I’m his friend everywhere else.” She already knows anyway. Christina figuratively rolled her eyes and literally tried to blow some hair out of her face. She felt helpless, and absent any of her Olympic joy. If winning medals was supposed to give her some kind of strategic happiness reserves to call on to combat future upset, there was a fault in the system somewhere.

“Oh, Chris,” his mom cooed sympathetically. She even reached across the table like she wanted to pat her hand or something, but the rider’s hands were safely back inside her cozy, too-long sleeves. “It’s not that, sweetheart. It’s not private versus public. He’s tired of sharing, you could say, and he doesn’t know how to say that or what to do about it, so he acts out the frustration in other ways.” This new theory of the case garnered all of Christina’s focus. She snapped to attention instead of speaking absently and staring at the doors to the kitchen.

“Did he tell you that or is it mother’s intuition?”

“He asks me what I think, what he should do. I always tell him to be honest with you, and talk to you about how he feels. “

“That’s like his tagline. It’s his favorite advice. Figures he can’t take it himself.”

“It’s hard on him. Think from his perspective.” Juan’s mom remained consoling, but she was sticking up for him too.

“I know.” I don’t want to have this conversation with her. For two hours she’s been treating me like her favorite daughter- no offense, Paula- and I love and appreciate that so much. I know it’s hard for him and I know it must be hard for her to watch that. I’m sure I’m a huge disappointment to her in that way. But what am I supposed to do? Christina checked the doors again, just as the man in question was pushing through them with a large plastic container. “Guess he didn’t toss my cake.” That was the end of the talk. His mom didn’t want him to know she was having it any more than Christina wanted to have it at all.

The player remained grumpy through goodbyes and thank you’s. He didn’t talk much in the car, or when they got back to his building. He changed back into the shorts he had on earlier and parked on the couch. His guest took her time changing, called André to talk about the game and say goodnight, and then parked herself on the kitchen counter with her box of cake and a large fork. The two friends in the overly complicated relationship didn’t speak. They weren’t even like ships passing in the night, because neither of them moved. Juan watched TV and Christina looked at things on her phone while she picked at the cake. Instagram and Twitter were more satisfying than allowing herself to think about what she should do. Nothing the player or his mother said was news, or new, or unexpected. She knew he was frustrated and that their arrangement was unfair. Eventually he wanted a drink, and that required walking in front of her to get a glass. She stuck her right leg out to keep him from getting to the refrigerator, and then her left to stop him from going the long way around the island.

“Don’t be grumpy, Juanin,” she told him very plainly.

“I’m not grumpy. I’m thirsty.” The Spaniard’s voice was flat too. He faced her and let his eyes convey his disinterest in her game. He could just move me if he really wanted to, she thought, studying him. Seriously, all I can do here is remind him that I’m worth it. That WE’RE worth it- like, what we have together. I think it’s worth the hard parts.

“Come here.” Christina tried to use her feet around his waist to bring him closer. “Want some cake?”

“No.”

“Not even this little bite?” She used her pointer to collect some of the creamy pina colada mousse and shaved coconut to offer him a taste. Juan just shook his head. “More for me,” she shrugged before bringing her finger to her mouth, without breaking the eye contact. It only took one swipe of her tongue to dislodge the blob of dessert from it, but she sucked the whole finger clean anyway, slowly. “I’m sorry about earlier. And I’m sorry about...everything, really. The way things are. But I...don’t know what else we can do.” The pretty girl in his dancing cactus sweatshirt put her hands on his shoulders and slid them casually, at different times, up his neck and around to the back of his head, into his hair. His face said he wasn’t buying her kind of sedate sweetness, but he was in no way resisting her effort to bring his body in right up to the counter so that her ankles were almost crossed behind him. “I love you, and I...need you. So I’m...not gonna let you out of this. I won’t give up on it, or let you try to move on. I can’t. I know I can’t. You’re stuck with me, babe.” With a less than innocent smirk on her face to hide her insecurity and worry, and a whole lot of hope inside that the words she was confidently speaking were more than just words, Christina bent down to kiss Juan again, the way he wanted to kiss her sitting at his table in his restaurant, surrounded by his people. Lip to lip and nose to nose, she couldn’t keep up the act. Their kisses were real, and the connection broke right through facades they put up. Juan kissed back, and she felt a millisecond of relief and then a whole lot of anxiety. She was the one reminded of how worth it their relationship was. I can’t lose him. I can’t lose this. There has to be a way for us all to stay happy. “I love you so much,” she croaked in a whisper before gently grabbing at his top lip again. The Chelsea man grabbed at her bottom one back, much less tenderly. He grabbed at her thigh too, which tickled for a second, and then hurt. His other hand found her waist. Next he grabbed her neck, with his teeth. She was breathless. “Don’t leave me.”

Juan said nothing. Either he didn’t want to make that commitment to her, or he wanted to make it with his actions rather than using words. He pulled her to the very edge of the counter and then stopped, like he’d decided pulling her down to her feet wasn’t a good idea after all, and kissed a jagged, jaunty path from where he bit her back to her mouth, via much of her jaw line. She had to lean against him to avoid falling off the granite. Her hands helped, on his shoulders. One of his wrapped tight around her neck while he alternated between mauling her mouth and keeping still, just caressing different parts of her coconut and pineapple flavored lips with his very skilled bottom one. There wasn’t much room in it to think a whole lot, but the rider wondered if the man between her legs was struggling to make up his mind about what he wanted, and she meant both in terms of the kissing and whatever would come from it- did he feel like being aggressive and possessive and dominant or did he want to slow down and love her more tenderly- and what he wanted for their relationship- more of the same, back to just friends, time off from everything, or even a demand for a change on the other side of the equation. The flip-flopping went on long enough that her butt started to feel numb from sitting on the hard countertop with just her seat bones.

“Babe...”

“Mm?”

“Can I get down from here?” Christina asked as she felt the Spaniard’s fingers kneading at the back and front of her neck. He let go and moved the glass he put down next to her at some point, not that sliding another couple of inches forward would have had anything to do with the glass anyway. He filled it with green tea from the refrigerator while she stood around uncertain about what to do next. What she wanted was to go to bed and work on that whole reminding him that she was worth it thing, superficial as that method was. Part of her also wanted to talk about things though, like how he felt and what he really wanted. Juan just stood in front of the refrigerator after replacing the jug of tea, staring at the door and sipping the tea. His friend didn’t know what to do with herself, so she put the lid back on the cake container and took her fork to the sink to rinse it off.

“I’m sorry about earlier. I don’t know why you apologized.”

“Because I-“ Both of them turned to address one another, and one was prepared to lie to the other. The other was going to reverse a lie.

“I don’t know why I said that,” Juan laughed. “I know why you apologized. You were panicked and you would have said anything to make me want you. I hate that so much, intellectually, but it turns me on. It makes me crazy. You did nothing wrong but you would take responsibility anyway, and put aside that you want an explanation, and I know you do, and you said those things. That’s not you,” he explained, his shoulders lifting as if to shrug but never coming back down. “You could tell me how you feel but not like that. I like it when you’re desperate like that. I know you mean it when you lose yourself completely, all self-respect. It turns me on to know how badly you need me, baby girl. Bad enough to be completely honest, no games.”

“Not to pour cold water on it, but I meant I need you for a lot more than that.” I’m gonna go home sore. He has that look in his eyes, Christina realized when she was finally able to look at the other beautiful blues in the room. Like he wants to spank me and strangle me and find out how long I can stay on my knees and elbows. It’s going to be amazing. But seriously, that’s not what I need him for.

“I know that. I know that every day, no problem. I don’t need any help remembering that. Something you miss when you don’t have a regular girlfriend around all the time in a normal relationship is that kind of turn on. I can talk with you every day. I can’t see you be sexy by accident. I don’t get to have you come over in the middle of the night after you go out with your girlfriends and drink too much and you’re horny and want to use me, or be fucked stupid. I can’t catch you fingering yourself on the couch in the afternoon. I don’t get to have stupid fights with you that you try to fix by being sexy but then your heart gets in the way and you accidentally tell the truth that makes me feel like the world to you. I don’t get any of that with you. Our visits are always the same. Our whole relationship is that pattern now- apart, together, apart, together. I’ve never had every day with you. Never. It’s all I want. I think it’s the only thing I can’t get for myself. I can buy whatever I want, I can go anywhere, I can probably meet whoever. I finally proved to myself last season that if I wanted another trophy bad enough I could get it. I always wanted to have a business, and we have the restaurant now. I have the Common Goal project. I’m writing. It’s all there. Everything except every day as your partner. I’ve always believed I could have the other things, and I will always believe I can have every day with you, but to be honest- it’s very hard, baby girl. It fights back harder than any of the other goals. You get injuries, you don’t get selected for the team, you fall out of a competition and it makes the Champions League trophy or the World Cup seem far away, but that doesn’t happen over and over all he time. Every time I open Instagram and see a picture of you with André, or I’m incredibly lonely at home at night, or I see a beautiful couple having coffee, or you say you can’t come here, or you tell me about what you’re making for dinner, or you’re upset and I can’t hug you, or my parents tell me about their friends’ kids getting married, or one of the guys tries to introduce me to a girl, or I go by myself to an event- practically 5, 6 times every day I am reminded that I don’t have what I want and that it’s all stacked against me to reach my goal. It’s very hard to have belief and faith. You have to really want something to keep it up. Especially when you say that you want every day with me too but you never act like you do. That’s the worst pushback. Nothing tries to make me doubt it will happen more than you do. I can’t make you want it. I can’t buy it, or score goals to get it, or network with the right people, or learn it, or anything else. It’s hard to have a goal that you can’t do anything to get but be yourself and wait.” Christina puffed out her cheeks like a chipmunk, and then rubbed her eyebrows while she let the air out.

“Well that took an unexpected turn,” she replied, having thought Juan would say something dirty and then they’d start taking each other’s clothes off.

“I didn’t know I was going to go there either,” the Blues midfielder told her while scratching at the crown of his head. She took a couple of steps closer and wrapped him in a tight hug. He didn’t need to illustrate the injustice and difficulty of his position relative to her, but the way he did almost brought her to tears, both in terms of content and style. His eloquence was beautiful, and revealing. His plight was heartbreaking and heartening at the same time- simultaneously deserving of sympathy and seriously inspiring. Christina wasn’t sure if anything had ever meant as much to her as she meant to him, or wanted something as much as he wanted to be her real, full-time, only partner. Even her Olympics quest, finally achieved, felt lesser in comparison. She had nothing as erudite or beautiful handy to say back that would convey her feelings about him or what he said, so she hoped her hug was speaking volumes. Juan knew she was at a loss.

“I’m sorry, angel. I don’t mean to put pressure, or make you feel guilt.”

“I know, but I do, and I always do, even without you spelling it out that way,” she mumbled against his shirt.

“To me it’s like you can’t do anything about it either. You can’t feel differently than you do. I think of you as in the long wait with me. Neither of us can change it by will or hard work. We wait together. And we enjoy what we already have,” the Chelsea creator added, gathering up sweatshirt in his hand at her back so that he could uncover her butt. “I did not mean to change the mood.” His inability to move on from the great turn-on he described previously made Christina smile, even as her still rather numb behind was then squeezed and the trim of her underwear was pulled tight.

“Couch, or bed? Or the chair in your room?”

“Bed, I think. Which do you want?”

“Bed.”

“What do you want to do there?”

“I still wanna remind you it’s all worth it.”

“Show me.”

[theimmediateband-blog]

Songblog #002: ’What’s The Matter Kevin Jones?’

Listen here:

https://soundcloud.com/adamwalton/05-whats-the-matter-kevin-1?in=adamwalton/sets/manbuoy-lp

Introduction:

The motivation for these blogs is explained (lengthily!) in a previous post. 

Here’s a link: https://theimmediateband.tumblr.com/post/164677483215/songblog-001-no-shortcuts

‘What’s The Matter Kevin Jones?’ is the lead song from my band’s Mold EP (rel. March 2017). It’s our most successful release so far (which is a bit of a euphemistic use of the word ‘successful’), and it’s the song I’m proudest of. The venerable Tom Robinson (6Music) played it a few times, opening his Saturday night show with it (a great privilege… I know how much time I spend mulling over opening songs for my radio show!)

I can’t recommend highly enough Tom’s 6Music radio shows, his Fresh On The Net repository of information and guidance for new music-makers, and - particular to this blog - the democratic way his BBC Introducing Mixtape works. Please consider using it (look for the ‘Inbox’ link in the top right hand corner of the page. As I’m writing this, it’s shut until 4th September 2017.)

My respect for Tom, and my boundless positivity towards his programmes, has very little to do with him playing our music, honestly, truthfully, swear on all of my favourite FX pedals.
 This is what Tom said about the song. 
“… a great tune, great playing, wild spiky guitar, odd lyrics, a light sprinkling of anarchic menace and the perfect pop radio length.”

He nailed it.

The Writing:

If you could see me now, sat here in my kitchen, typing away narcissistically at my keyboard with a sinkful of washing-up that’s probably more in need of my attention, and a lawn that looks like a botanical experiment in what might happen if grass is allowed to go rogue, you’d notice I’m blushing, squirming uncomfortably in my chair. You see, here I am expounding my philosophies on songwriting when I’ve never paid much attention to other people’s philosophies on songwriting.

When I was much younger, I devoured music biographies and - particularly - autobiographies, in search of a Holy Grail of inspiration, some insight into what made the geniuses, geniuses. I didn’t find anything. Sometimes John helped Paul, or Paul helped John; or Brian moved a sandpit into the studio; or Ray felt a bit sad; or Janis drank like a demonic funnel, and then screamed it all out. The books told me very little, and what little they told me 20 / 30 years ago I have long forgotten.

Maybe all of this fuss, this sharing of ‘wisdom’ on the subject, is hot air, or a smokescreen, depending on how you like your over-excited gases. Maybe my writing like this, or reading those books, was a form of denial. Perhaps the great songwriters don’t have to mull these things over. Perhaps they are just gifted from birth, and no amount of reading or writing or pontificating will bring us any closer to them.

Well, you know, what I have learnt since the band re-formed and I started writing again is that it’s really, really OK to not be a genius. The joy, satisfaction and fun I’ve had out of music since March 2016 have made me a much happier man. Previously, and without really noticing, I had been sad for a long time. Making music makes me happy and is a great way to recycle that sadness into bittersweet tunes; not catharsis so much as therapy to a minor 7th.

I imagine that other people write for a multitude of reasons: desperation; the aforementioned catharsis; a desire for acclaim or recognition; to communicate; to bring something beautiful into the world; to speak, and release, otherwise unspeakable pain; to win someone’s heart, or to get fucked; to impress; to fill the void with something better than reality TV; because they like a nice tune and want to give the world more nice tunes… there is a multitude of reasons, all incredibly valid.

I wrote this song to fill a gap.

We had reformed with a determination to write new songs, and to not rely on songs we wrote two decades’ previously. And that had gone surprisingly well. However, once we started to gig, we realised that the set was all a bit one-paced. I see live sets like I see albums, or DJ sets, or playlists for my radio shows. They all have to have some kind of narrative to them… peaks / troughs / beginnings / ends… all bloody obvious, when you think about it.

We needed something heavy; something that didn’t sound like a Teenage Fanclub c-side.

Once I knew what I thought we needed, my subconscious started to ferment. This was well away from any instruments. Having a shower, somewhere in my brain is thinking that something a little early REM would be good. Autopiloting through the washing up, a little bit of Pixies comes into the equation; partway through a Mario Kart 8 session, I spin off Rainbow Road: yearning Wire, as opposed to spiky Wire (‘Outdoor Miner’-say) has also become part of the amorphous sound scape in my soul.

Yes, that’s right…  the amorphous sound scape in my soul.

I don’t know how else to describe it, really… a shopping list of feelings, textures and sounds that I want this next song to be, but this is music and I’d rather be ridiculed for calling it the amorphous sound scape in my soul than think of it in terms of a shopping list.

Still I hadn’t bothered picking up the guitar. By the time I did, little planets were forming out of the swirling gases in the amorphous sound scape in my soul. Those planets were in E minor.

I knew I wanted to write a song about my hometown, Mold. I know how conflicted I feel about Mold. It felt like a dead-end when we were younger. Somewhere stultifying and inward-looking. We had one nightclub that shut down - permanently - after a few acts of unspeakable violence; McDonalds didn’t arrive until the mid 2000’s. Wetherspoons arrived either soon before, or soon after… they’re not exactly important historical facts, just indicators.

When I think about Mold, I think about weekend nights there, having great fun with my friends who came from nice, middle class homes in the surrounding villages, or on the nice estates of Bryn Coch and Parc Hendy. I think about how most of those nights would end running a gauntlet of fear just to get home in one piece. How we’d want to get to the chippy before The Dolphin kicked out because once The Dolphin kicked out, someone would get a kicking, or a glassing, or butted, or end up in the back of a Black Maria, trapped with the very kids they were trying to escape.

I think about my time at the Alun School, and I think about the kids in my form class who smelt of piss and stale fags, and whose uniforms looked shabby, even on the first day of school, back in 1982.

I remember how I couldn’t understand why they wanted to punch me, or my friends; why they’d explode into white hot violence on a whim; why I spent 5 years either hiding from the bastards, or fighting them.

I think about what I’ve heard about what happened to those kids since we left school. About the shitty jobs, the drug / drink-related deaths, the despair and complete lack of hope, and I now - finally - understand why they hated us, back then.

And holding all of these memories in my head, passing them through the amorphous sound scape in my soul, this song eventually took shape.

I had one kid in mind, writing the song. I couldn’t name him (I didn’t know anyone called ‘Kevin Jones’). And the ending is a melodramatic exaggeration, for the sake of the song. The kid I was thinking about didn’t die, or at least hasn’t yet, to the best of my knowledge. A few others did, though. So he came to represent them.

Musically-speaking, there had been a chord sequence lurking around the shadows of my musical id since I was 11 years old. Back then, and this will go some way to explaining why those kids wanted to punch me, I played classical guitar and my hero was John Williams. When John Williams wasn’t playing solo, or duetting with Julian Bream, he was in the uncoolest band the universe has ever seen. Seriously, John and his bandmates made 11 year old me look like Iggy Pop. They had a piece on their album - Sky 2 - called ‘Vivaldi’. I taught myself the intro. And its patterns worked their way into my vocabulary. I subsequently tried to use that sequence of intervals (it’s not really a chord sequence, as such) in the first incarnation of the band, and in a solo piece I wrote. For whatever reason, it surfaced again, now; maybe a subconscious nod to my uncoolness and prime bullyability, and those vague thoughts of REM, Wire and Pixies, shaped it, reasonably effortlessly, into the final song.

I was also hugely inspired by Roy Orbison’s ‘In Dreams’. It’s a song with a non-standard structure, and no repetition.

Finally, I feel it’s important to state that the influences that I mentioned - early REM and Wire, particularly - were only senses of those bands, really. I couldn’t sing you a single, early REM song; and the only Wire album I’m entirely au fait with is Chairs Missing. I’m an unashamed dilettante, in this respect. I don’t know if this makes me a shallow wanker. I think that as writers we’re free to take as much or as little influence as we want, from whoever we want. The more shallowly we steal, the less obvious it is and the more likelihood there is of our bits being predominant. And that - us, as a band, shining through the most - is very important to me.

I could sing you the entire Pixies back catalogue, though.

Very very badly.

The Tools:

Fender FSR Classic Player 60’s Strat Vox AC15C1X amplifier Strymon Riverside Electro Harmonix Big Muff Pi

Lyrics:

I thought we could be anything, If we followed every rule. But Quadrophenia at 12, Was your bible and your school. We all knew… Said we knew…

I found me in the library, You terrorised the underpass. The flying fists of Mold’s Bruce Lee, There was a fag burn on your hands. From your mam… From your mam…

What’s the matter Kevin Jones? Did you ever have a chance? Your dad would fight the chippy kids Pissed up every Friday night

What’s the matter Kevin Jones? Your fingers stank of stolen fags, I used to dream of hurting you But you took that out my hands.

TV is blaring. Is anyone in? Your dog starts howling. Neighbours complaining. Police are called in. The door is smashed in. You stare at the ceiling, Forever at the ceiling…

Influences: (click to hear songs.)

Sky - ‘Vivaldi’ Wire - ‘Outdoor Miner’ Pixies - ‘Gouge Away’ Roy Orbison - ‘In Dreams’ REM - ‘Strange’ (yes, a Wire cover!)

Recording:

We recorded this with the truly excellent Russ Hayes at Orange Sound Studios in Penmaenmawr. As with all of our recordings with Russ, the main guitar line / the drums and the bass were all recorded playing in the big live room at his studio.

We love Russ so much, we’d write a song - barely rehearse it - and then bring it into the studio to record it almost (if you’ll pardon the terrible pun) immediately. Our enthusiasm to work with Russ and our curiosity overwhelmed any common sense.

Our next studio recordings will be of songs we’ve rehearsed and played, many times, so that we know their peaks and troughs, and where we can deviate and embellish the obvious lines.

The guitar solo is played with a bottleneck. Sadly I don’t have time - live - to pick a bottleneck up, and the main guitar line requires all four fingers, so I play a different solo when we’re gigging.

Purchase:

A ltd. edition CD featuring ‘What’s The Matter Kevin Jones?’ is available from our bandcamp page:

https://theimmediate.bandcamp.com/album/mold-e-p

The EP is also available to purchase digitally on bandcamp, iTunes and to stream on Spotify.

[fadingfartconnoisseur]

Things to Do in Stellenbosch: A Guide to South Africa’s Wine Region

South Africa is one of my top five favorite countries — but it’s easily my #1 favorite wine country in the world. The wines here are extraordinary, shockingly affordable, and they have tastes that I don’t experience in any other country.

I don’t know what it is about South African wines. I’m more of a red wine fan in general, and love me some Pinotage, but South Africa’s whites are magical — they have warm, vanilla-y notes that enthrall me. No other whites are like that.

If you want to go wine tasting in South Africa, many people spend a day in Constantia or one of the suburbs immediately outside Cape Town. But if you want to do South African wine country right, spend a few days in Stellenbosch.

Introducing Stellenbosch

Stellenbosch is a university town about an hour outside Cape Town. It’s one of the oldest towns in South Africa and it’s populated primarily by Afrikaners (Afrikaans-speaking people of Dutch descent). And it is world renowned for its wines!

Stellenbosch has a population of roughly 100,000, which makes it a great size for wandering. The downtown area is home to several top-notch hotels, restaurants, cafes, and shops. And because of the university, it has a laid-back, youthful atmosphere.

The #1 Reason Why You Should Spend a Few Days in Stellenbosch

Because South Africa is an exhausting destination and you’ll need a break.

Don’t get me wrong — I adore this country fiercely and whole-heartedly. But South Africa takes a lot out of you. You need to be much more cautious about safety, and not only in the cities (see my South Africa safety guide here). Going on safari is awesome, but game drives require pre-dawn wakeup calls and you may be out in the harsh sun or freezing cold for hours, often both on the same day. And if you’re diving into culture, much of South Africa’s recent history is painful and heavy, especially if you visit lots of Apartheid-centric sights.

In short, give yourself downtime.

One of the biggest mistakes I see travelers make is not leaving any time for downtime. Travel is exhausting under normal circumstances, and trying to see literally everything is a good way to run yourself ragged. So plan some low-key days into your itinerary no matter where you go, whether it’s a day chilling out at a beach club in Sicily or a day cafe-hopping and photo-taking in Paris.

For our two-week trip, my friend Beth and I started with a few days in Johannesburg. Next was a few days on safari in Kruger National Park. We then hit up Cape Town for a few days. Stellenbosch would be the final destination.

And that itinerary was perfect. By the time we arrived in Stellenbosch, we were ready to veg out and relax.

Day One: Stellenbosch’s Best Wineries

We lucked out on our first day — my friend Charmain, who is married to my college friend Mark, offered to drive us from Cape Town to Stellenbosch, visiting three of her favorite wineries. Charmain is from Pretoria but she’s lived in Cape Town for a long time and I found that many locals agreed that she took us to the best places!

Fairview Wine and Cheese — Come here for the cheese.

When you arrive at Fairview Wine and Cheese, you’ll see a few goats hanging out by the entrance. Yes, they make their own goat cheese here! And lots of other kinds of cheeses.

The three of us sampled several wines and cheeses. And while the wines were good, the cheeses were exemplary. We bought a few to take home as well. If you are a cheese fan in the least, you need to come here!

Spice Route — Come here for the food.

Spice Route is a collection of eateries and restaurants near Paarl, just outside Stellenbosch. Theres a section for cured meats, there’s a deli, there’s a pizza place, and there’s even a brewery called Barley and Bilton that serves beer and biltong (South African jerky). And of course, they have wine tasting as well!

We tasted four wines with some cured meats. You know I enjoyed that pairing! After, Charmain took us for some South African-style pancakes, rolled thin like crepes.

Waterford — Come here for the chocolate.

Waterford is the winery I heard recommended most often from locals in Stellenbosch. It’s got a luxurious atmosphere and feels like a grand manor belonging to some member of royalty. Their wines aren’t half bad, either.

At Waterford we took part in their chocolate tasting! We each received three wines to pair with three little squares of chocolate. It was a stormy day and it felt amazing to curl up by the fireplace.

Day Two: Vine Hopper and Four Wineries

For our second day, Beth and I decided to try the Vinehopper — a hop-on, hop-off van visiting several wineries. They take several routes depending on the day, so you can take three different routes three days in a row if you’d like.

I found this to be the best way for people without a car (or people who all want to drink) to sample lots of places in Stellenbosch. What you lose in spontaneity you gain in convenience.

We took the Southern Route. Here are the wineries we visited:

Neethlingshof

Neethlingshof had a modern atmosphere with a fancy dining room for sampling. We tried several reds and whites and I bought a bottle of The Owl Post to take home.

Spier

Spier was next, and while we didn’t do a full tasting, we sampled their sparkling rosé and a cheese plate. I also bought a bottle of their chenin blanc to take home (and it’s the only bottle I have left after nine months!). Spier has beautiful grounds as well, so it’s a good spot to take some outdoor photos.

Bilton Wines

Like Waterford, Bilton Wines is famous for their wine and chocolate tasting! But the pieces we got here were much larger than the ones at Waterford. Each one was roughly the size of a Kit-Kat strip. They also have award-winning merlot that pairs well with the cardamom chocolate.

Kleine Zalze

Well, let’s be honest — by the time you hit the fourth winery in a day, your memories start getting fuzzy. I did enjoy Kleine Zalze, though, and I bought one of their bottles of red to take home.

Vinehopper has three different routes. A one-day pass costs 300 rand ($22) and a two-day pass costs 540 rand ($40). Wine tastings are not included in the price, but they generally cost 15-45 rand ($1-3) for around six tastes at each winery. Note that the wineries close at 5:00 PM, so you’re best off getting an early start.

Day Three: Day Trip to Franschoek 

Franschoek is like a mini version of Stellenbosch with a French flair, about 45 minutes away by car. It’s a much smaller town filled with galleries, jewelry shops, and cafes.

We started with some wine by the fireplace at a restaurant called Dutch East. I’m pretty sure we were the youngest people there by 30 years.

Our one tasting of the day was at Franschoek Cellar, where we paired six elegant wines with six delicious cheeses. (Note: on the map it looks technically within walking distance from the town, and it was, but we were the only people actually walking on that road!)

When we were planning our trip, Beth and I discussed whether to stay in Franschoek or Stellenbosch. Overall, we were happy with our decision to stay in Stellenbosch. We would have been bored out of our minds after two days in Franschoek. If we had stayed longer, I’m sure we would have done their wine tram.

We took an Uber from Stellenbosch to Franschoek but couldn’t summon any in the area on the way back, so we had a restaurant call us a cab. The Uber cost us 258 rand ($19) and took 45 minutes; our cab on the way back cost 300 rand ($22).

Day Four: Unusual Stellenbosch Wineries

Our flight departed Cape Town late in the afternoon, so we were determined to get a few more tastings in before we left. Beth found a driver who would take us to a few wineries and then to the airport from there. It was the perfect way to enjoy our final day in Stellenbosch.

Fleur du Cap — Come here for their salt tasting.

As soon as I heard that there was a wine tasting paired with salts, I knew I had to try it! Fleur du Cap offers a tasting where they give you five wines, five salts, and several little dishes for experimenting with the salts. One was a stuffed grape leaf; another was olive paste.

It was so much fun! This tasting is why I now use pink Himalayan sea salt all the time in my cooking. (It sounds more expensive than it is — you can get it for like $4 at Trader Joe’s.) Beth and I were also both horrified by Indian black salt, which smells like rotten eggs. Apparently vegans like it because it’s an animal-free way to get the taste of eggs. But isn’t the taste of eggs the worst part about them? It’s all about the texture, baby!

Salt tastings take place at 12:00 PM only and you must book in advance.

Cavalli Wine and Stud Farm — Come here for the photo ops.

Cavalli Wine and Stud Farm was easily the most scenic winery we visited. The grounds were so beautiful and the building itself was a modern masterpiece. All of their wines are named after horses. We sampled a few wines and a cheese plate and they actually gave us a free bottle of wine to take home because they were busy and took so long.

And with that, we were off to Cape Town to catch our flight to Johannesburg, then to Amsterdam, then home to New York.

But which wineries were the very best?

If you’re limited on time, I would prioritize visiting the very best of Stellenbosch. That would be cheese tasting at Fairview, chocolate tasting at Waterford, and salt tasting at Fleur du Cap.

Where to Stay in Stellenbosch

My recommendation is to stay in a hotel within or just outside the city center. That way you can get around easily by walking. Here are my recommendations for places at every price range in downtown Stellenbosch:

If you’re looking for budget accommodation in Stellenbosch, Ikhaya Stellenbosch Backpackers has dorms, private rooms, and apartment-style suites for a low price and a great location right by the center of town.

If you want a mid-range hotel, Stellenbosch Hotel has the feel of a B&B with the amenities of a hotel, right in the center of town.

If you want something high-end but not too expensive, check out Coopmanhuijs Boutique Hotel, a stylish Stellenbosch boutique hotel with a pool in the center of town.

And if you want to blow your budget, you probably don’t care about being in town because you can afford to hire a driver for your whole trip. If that’s the case, go for Delaire Graff Lodge — it’s pretty much the most luxurious property in the Stellenbosch area.

You can find more Stellenbosch hotels here.

Where to Eat in Stellenbosch

Many of the wineries serve food, but if you’re looking for restaurants in Stellenbosch, here are some that we enjoyed:

The Big Easy is an excellent yet affordable high-end dinner spot. I loved my venison, but the standout was Beth’s parmesan and mushroom risotto.

Hudson’s The Burger Joint is a popular upscale burger chain. And it has a bit of a New York theme, which didn’t hurt. Get one of the burgers with bacon jam! (Thanks for taking us, Kate and Alessio!)

Melissa’s the Food Shop is an adorable cafe and grocery store. It’s only open for breakfast and lunch, and they have adorable pastries. This is also a good place to stock up on food souvenirs.

The Bird Cage is a quirky café that does lovely breakfast dishes. Their main business is wedding cakes. This is one restaurant that will look great on Instagram, FYI.

Tiger’s Milk is a delicious casual chain with great pizzas. I didn’t eat here, but I ate at the one in Muizenberg in Cape Town. Bacon-avocado-feta is a mysteriously popular combination in South Africa and I highly recommend their bacon-avocado-feta pizza! (Thanks for taking us, Mark and Charmain!)

And don’t underestimate having a meal of wine and cheese back at your place!

How to Get Around Stellenbosch

The conundrum about wine regions around the world is that they are best to explore by car — yet driving is the last thing you should be doing while wine tasting.

You may want to rent a car and have one person stay sober. But if you both want to drink, look into hiring transportation!

You can summon Ubers within the town of Stellenbosch, but summoning them at outside wineries and in Franschoek is difficult to impossible. In that case, ask the winery to call you a cab.

I loved the day we spent on the Vine Hopper and it was a great way to experience lots of wineries without worrying about transportation. And hiring a driver from a tour company was the most logistically easy way to visit a few wineries, leave our bags with him, and go directly to the airport from there.

When to Visit Stellenbosch

Stellenbosch is a great year-round destination. Beth and I visited in the winter (July) and while I was a bit nervous, as winter weather is roughest on the Western Cape, winter ended up being a great time to visit.

The main reason? Fireplaces. It seemed like nearly every winery had a fireplace or two, and it was so nice to bundle up near a roaring fire with a glass of Chenin Blanc in your hand!

Secondly, hardly anyone was visiting then. We were often the only two people visiting a winery. And because of that, hotel prices were lower, too.

Weather-wise, some days were sunny, some were rainy, and some were a mix, but a light leather or denim jacket with a scarf was all we needed. Pack an umbrella because the weather can change quickly.

You can’t go wrong any time of year, though. Fall is a popular time to visit, as that’s when the new bottles will be coming out, and summer is high season. Do be prepared for higher prices and bigger crowds in those seasons.

On Tourism and Race in Stellenbosch

One thing I noticed was that nearly every single tourist I saw in Stellenbosch was white. The only black people I saw were working. I noticed this often throughout South Africa, but it was more significant in Stellenbosch than anywhere else.

However, that changed at our final winery, Cavalli, where nearly every guest was black. (It’s worth noting that we were at Cavalli was on a Saturday, which is a popular day for Capetonians to visit rather than tourists.)

Racism in the wine tourism industry is not unheard of — a few years ago, a group of black women were kicked off a wine train in Napa Valley for apparently laughing and talking too loudly (aka #LaughingWhileBlack); they were met by police when they arrived at the station. The company claimed it was “acute insensitivity” and not racial bias at play; the women sued the company and reached a private settlement.

I’m not knowledgeable enough about race relations in South Africa to speak at length, but I will say this: Most non-South Africans assume that things immediately got better when Apartheid ended. That’s not true. Laws may have changed, but new injustices sprang up to replace the old laws. It’s similar to the United States — a lot of people assume things got better once the Civil Rights Movement happened, but the injustice only changed form. Now it’s in the form of criminal injustice and police brutality, among many other things.

What I do recommend is having conversations with South Africans about their lives. Talk to black people, white people, colored people (colored means mixed race and is a non-derogatory term in South Africa), Asian people. Don’t insist that everyone tell you about Apartheid, because it’s nobody’s job to educate you on their painful time in history, but you’d be surprised at how often South Africans bring up Apartheid on their own. Either way, I guarantee your eyes will be opened once you hear their life stories.

After seeing how white the wine tourism industry is in Stellenbosch, I wish I had made an effort to visit black-owned wineries. You should do the same. Here’s a list of black-owned wineries in South Africa; here’s a Guardian feature on black-owned wineries in South Africa.

The Takeaway

Stellenbosch was one of the highlights of our trip. Both Beth and I loved our time there and our three and a half days of drinking wine and eating cheese was the perfect way to wind down after ten busy days in South Africa.

Would I return? You absolutely bet I would! I only scraped the surface when it comes to wineries!

Oh, and one last tidbit:

I brought six bottles of my favorite wines home. I didn’t pay more than $11 for any of them.

Essential Info: To get into Stellenbosch, you can take a cab, bus, or train from Cape Town. There are also several private shuttle services. If we hadn’t had Charmain to drive us, we would have taken a private shuttle. Locals I spoke to recommended avoiding the train.

You can find hotels in Stellenbosch here.

I recently read Trevor Noah’s book Born a Crime, which is about his childhood during and after Apartheid in South Africa. It’s an outstanding, gripping, fascinating book and I urge you to read it before you visit South Africa. I actually recommend getting the audio version because Trevor does tons of different accents, languages, and voices.

South African power adapters are hard to find outside South Africa — get one before your trip.

Don’t visit South Africa without travel insurance. Whether you get appendicitis while on safari and need to be hospitalized, or your phone gets stolen in Cape Town, or an injury means you need to cancel all or part of your trip, travel insurance will help you out. I use and recommend World Nomads as travel insurance for trips to South Africa.

Have you been to Stellenbosch or gone wine tasting in South Africa? Share away!

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