#roast hare

[augment-techs]

[frot-vember]

OP must have enjoyed a sumptuous banquet of roasted pheasant, buttered turnips, creamy mushroom soup, braised hare, warm crusty bread, plum tarts, and fine red wine before they wrote this post 🤣

[despacito-uwu16]

The Rising Action

Kenji Sato x Journalist! Reader

Enemies To Lovers | Foced Proximity | Pining

<- prev next ->

“Hit me like a poisonous dart. You were trouble right from the start. Should’ve ran I guess that’s my fault”. - I do by G-IDLE

⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺

“Ken Sato has received a 3rd strike. One wonders, how hard is it to hit a small ball, I bet a one-eyed zombie could hit a ball better than he can”. You say into your recorder.

“Wow, you are harsh”. Ami says as you end your recording.

“It’s called being honest. I report what I see”. You reminded her. “I mean have you seen the way he played today”?

“Yes Y/N, we’ve been watching the same game. But it got me thinking. When I interviewed Ken, he refused to talk about his family. He refuses to show vulnerability. It’s like he’s wearing some sort of mask. Something is going on with him, and when I know something, I don’t let go”. Said Ami.

“Wow, you are very determined”.

“At least get to know him before you start roasting him”. Ami suggested.

“Note taken”. You lied.

After graduating college, you were hired as an intern at the Los Angeles Magazine. You would stay at the office after midnight to revise and edit articles for other reporters. Eventually, your boss gave you your first assignment. Coincidentally, at a baseball game. You took in every detail of every player, noting all of the small mistakes and flaws of the games. Everyone looked like they didn’t know how to play, much to your disappointment. But it made juicy material for you.

That night, you were writing like you were running out of time. The article you wrote was on some of the players and their failures. The morning after, you got called in to the editor’s office. At first you thought you were about to get fired, but your surprise, he complimented on your writing style, asking you to cover another baseball game. Eventually, you got promoted to journalist within 6 months of working there, naming you the youngest journalist in the field. A year and a half later, you were offered a job at the International Review Journal. They pay twice as much as the last salary and you get to travel for your job. It didn’t take too long for you to accept it, and the next thing you knew, you were on your way to make your mark in the world.

Everywhere you went, your words impacted people and the way they perceive their favorite athletes. All of the readers love you, while the athletes feared and hated you. You didn’t care for the love and hate. What matters is you were unstoppable.

Now here you are in Tokyo, Japan watching the Ken Sato struggle. You felt bad that the Giants were on a loosing streak, but you didn’t feel bad for Ken. It was his ego that brought him here after all. You leaned back in your chair with your recorder in your hand, while watching Ken having a temper tantrum in front of his coach.

~

As you walked out of the stadium, you were fishing out your car keys when you realized something was missing in your bag.

“Where’s my recorder”?

Panic starts to settle in as you looked through your tote bag.

“Looking for this”?

You turn around to see Ken Sato, waving your recording device in front of you.

“Well, if it isn’t the walking loosing streak. I would say great game, but let’s face it, i’ve seen better”. You sneered.

“Y/N L/N, the pain in my ass, Let me guess, obsessing with me as usual”? He asks

“I’m not obsessed with you, and even if I were, I would rather launch myself out of Tokyo on a ten foot pole than fan girl over a baseball fuck up”. You rolled your eyes.

“You have really creative comments Y/N. I think my favorite one has to be when you called me the hare who couldn’t beat the tortoise. But slower and more stupider”. He laughs.

“I also noticed that I’m the only person mentioned in your commentary. Am I just a cover for the fact that you know nothing about baseball”?

“Of course I know everything about baseball. I just like taking notes on the most notable failures in baseball history”. You scoffed

He lets out a laugh that still annoys you to this day. “It’s nice to know I have a fan”.

“Once again, the only person obsessed with you is you”. You retorted.

“Says the person who followed me all the way here from California”. He tossed your recorder to you. “I’ve read some of your stuff online. Judging by your writing style, you should consider a career in fanfiction writing instead of sports journalism”.

“Fuck off Ken”. You said.

While he turned around to walk away, you gave him the middle finger, and he stuck up his in return.

You rolled your eyes as you got into your car.

“What an asshole. And for the record, I was here first”. You aggressively push your car key into the ignition.

You were back in your apartment, editing your article on your gray velvet couch. You took a sip of your pineapple smoothie as you reread the last paragraph you’ve just written.

“Ken Sato, “the best living player”, is now the best living curse. From being on cloud 9 to falling into the pits of underworld, he might as well drag the giants along with him. Tread carefully Sato, consider yourself a dead man walking. If looks could kill, we wouldn’t be Coach Shimura”.

Is this considered slander? Possibly. But to you, it’s called journalism. And the best part of the job is the chaos it causes post-publish.

After rereading and editing, you hit publish. You sat back and watched as the likes and views came in.

Later that night, you were celebrating the success of your latest article, alone. You downed the last of your dirty shirley, feeling content with yourself and the hard work you’ve put in. You were about to ask for the bill, when the bartender placed a martini in front of you.

“I didn’t order this”. You look up at the bartender confused.

“It came from the gentleman in the black blazer”. He points to the man sitting at the end of the bar.

You look over with curiosity to see the man sitting at the end of the bar. Only to be disappointed when you realized the guy was Ken. He got up and walks up to you.

You glare at Ken as he approached you. “What do you want”?

“Can’t a man treat a cute girl to a drink”? He takes a seat next you.

You’ve been down this road before. After you publish an article, the athletes either bombards you with threatening emails or bribe you with money or expensive gifts. Either way, it didn’t faze you.

“If this is about the article, I’m not taking it down or tweaking it to your liking”.

“I usually don’t give a shit about what you personally think of me. However, my career is on the line because of you”. He said, his onyx eyes giving you the death stare.

“Awww, it’s not my fault the world thinks you suck. Go cry about it”. You roll your eyes.

“I’m not begging for you to delete the article. Instead, I’m offering you an opportunity”. Kenji proposes.

You turn your body towards him. “Go on”.

“You come live with me for the next two months, get the Kenji exclusive. You get to ask any question, and you get to follow me around. It’ll make great coverage for the sports magazine”. He leans back in his chair.

“Okay and why would I want to live with you”? You scoff.

Kenji smirks. “You can decline the once in a lifetime opportunity to do this interview, or I can tell everyone about our little escapade during college”.

You glared at him. “Excuse me”?

“Imagine if people found out that Ken Sato, a baseball legend and Y/N L/N, his biggest hater had a one night stand during our junior year. That would seriously affect your following and your career, wouldn’t it”? Kenji condescends, leaving you completely disgusted.

“You’re not the only one who can play dirty Y/N”. He smirks.

Of all the annoying things Kenji does, one thing you did not expect from him is to straight out blackmail you. Another is the fact that he’s right. If people found out you slept with an athlete, you can kiss your promotion goodbye. For once, you were backed into a corner, and there was nothing you could do or say to save yourself. Swallowing your pride, you decided to take the defeat.

“Fine. I’ll come shadow you”. You surrendered reluctantly.

Kenji smiles from ear to ear.

“But if you pull some shady shit on me, I’m ending it”. You threatened.

“Won’t be a problem”. Kenji pulls out a pen and writes something down on a napkin.

“Here’s the address to my house. Arrive at my place on Sunday at 9 am sharp”. He hands you the napkin and hands some cash to the bar tender.

“I look forward to this interview Y/N”. He winks at you as he leaves the bar. You sunk in your seat appalled.

“What the fuck did I just agree to”?

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Likes, Comments and Reblogs are always appreciated :)

⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺

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[whencyclopedia]

The Nerge: Hunting in the Mongol Empire

The peoples of the Mongol Empire (1206-1368 CE) were nomadic, and they relied on hunting wild game as a valuable source of protein. The Asian steppe is a desolate, windy, and often bitterly cold environment, but for those Mongols with sufficient skills at riding and simultaneously using a bow, there were wild animals to be caught to supplement their largely dairy-based diet. Over time, hunting and falconry became important cultural activities and great hunts were organised whenever there were major clan gatherings and important celebrations. These hunts involved all of the tribe mobilising across vast areas of steppe to corner game into a specific area, a technique known as the nerge. The skills and strategies used during the nerge were often repeated with great success by Mongol cavalry on the battlefield across Asia and in Eastern Europe.

Hunted Animals

The Mongols, like other nomadic peoples of the Asian steppe, relied on milk from their livestock for food and drink, making cheese, yoghurt, dried curds and fermented drinks. The animals they herded - sheep, goats, oxen, camels and yaks - were generally too precious as a regular source of wool and milk to kill for meat and so protein was acquired through hunting, essentially any wild animal that moved. Animals hunted in the medieval period included hares, deer, antelopes, wild boars, wild oxen, marmots, wolves, foxes, rabbits, wild asses, Siberian tigers, lions, and many wild birds, including swans and cranes (using snares and falconry). Meat was especially in demand when great feasts were held to celebrate tribal occasions and political events such as the election of a new khan or Mongol ruler.

A basic division of labour was that women did the cooking and men did the hunting. Meat was typically boiled and more rarely roasted and then added to soups and stews. Dried meat (si'usun) was an especially useful staple for travellers and roaming Mongol warriors. In the harsh steppe environment, nothing was wasted and even the marrow of animal bones was eaten with the leftovers then boiled in a broth to which curd or millet was added. Animal sinews were used in tools and fat was used to waterproof items like tents and saddles.

The Mongols considered eating certain parts of those wild animals which were thought to have potent spirits such as wolves and even marmots a help with certain ailments. Bear paws, for example, were thought to help increase one's resistance to cold temperatures. Such concoctions as powdered tiger bone dissolved in liquor, which is attributed all sorts of benefits for the body, is still a popular medicinal drink today in parts of East Asia.

Besides food and medicine, game animals were also a source of material for clothing. A bit of wolf or snow leopard fur trim to an ordinary robe indicated the wearer was a member of the tribal elite. Fur-lined jackets, trousers, and boots were a welcome insulator against the bitter steppe winters, too.

Continue reading...

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Hello!! I just started reading your works recently and I think it's safe to say that I have fallen in love with them <3 the way you write both the cod guys and the reader feels so real and poetic that I just, eat it up everytime. I read your Barbarian! König post and it got me thinking about something.

König and Ghost are kinda opposites when it comes to their darlings. König likes darlings fiesty and snippy but Ghost likes his darlings as more agreeable or soft but not weak, ykwim??

And it got me thinking about Barbarian! Ghost. Whereas König got his darling bc he killed her husband and she was there when it happened, I see Ghost as going to take one girl originally but then the darling steps in front of said girl and says to take her instead, saving the girl and sacrificing herself. Idk but I think he would be very attracted to that, and unlike König who gently picks you up and puts you upon his horse while you kick and bite him, Ghost grabs you and lays you stomach first against his horse harshly, keeping a sturdy hand on your back as he rides away.

Sorry if this is weird or ooc!! But it was just a thought that came to me!

Oh Barbarian!Ghost would be sooo disinterested on the outside. He only saves her ass discreetly, but saves it more than enough times to spark her curiosity.

Why does he come to her rescue and then abandons her to her own devices?

CW: Minor violence (bruises), noncon groping, fear of SA, blood, cuddling & snuggling, Ghost being a complex PTSD weirdo who has a fascination towards bones.

It’s actually she who approaches him first, not the other way around. He allows her to seek protection by staying near him and thus get the others off her back: he might even throw her a piece of roasted lamb as if she were some stray cat, lurking about his campfire. But there’s not much more than that on offer for her: only a few sideways glances that tell her he regards her mostly as a nuisance and a liability, accompanied by a few scrap bones that luckily have some meat and fat still on them.

He shows her how to snap the bigger ones in half to get to the life saving marrow, and that’s when she realizes he regards her a bit dumb, some pretty royal girl who doesn’t know how to survive without a man.

And who’s to blame for all that? Clever men who have forced her to learn poetry and songs, pluck chords and recite philosophers from memory. No one ever even taught her how to ride a horse, the only things she can do is chat about the latest political turns and whether it’s old-fashioned to style your hair Southern style.

Now she’s supposed to strike a conversation with a barbarian who dresses in furs and wool, who collects the knuckles of his fallen enemies and looks at her like she’s the uncivilized one here. He probably plays dice with those bones, and she’s never seen him force a woman under him; she’s never seen him take a woman at all.

He’s probably half dead already, some ghoul raised to ravage this earth. But everytime she gets drooled over or spat upon, groped or squeezed or slapped on the soft flesh of her butt, she makes her way to him and only him. To become one with the shadows too, or to disappear, perhaps.

He gives her his biggest, thickest pelt to wrap around her shoulders, to cover those assets that make these wartorn men so crazy. Or then he doesn’t want to find her frozen to death at dawn... Dark, vast eyes look at her in the early morning fog, up from above from the highest heights, as if asking why she overslept again.

A rabbit is thrown at her feet, but she doesn’t know what to do with it: she knows he wants her to skin it, yes, but how? Even with the knife he provides her, she can only stare at the soft creature helplessly, lick her dry, creaky lips until he sighs and comes to wrench the blade away, taking the hare before it turns too stiff.

She’s almost certain he’s not even interested in women until one day, someone goes a bit too far and grabs a handful of her to squeeze. The spitting, jerking and screaming turn into a whole fistfight until she gets drawn to her knees by her hair. He’s about to rip her scalp off, of that she is sure from how much it burns.

Tears stream down her face from pure pain alone, but this time, the bone marrow man doesn’t only save her. He walks to the scene like a shadow, yanks her gropers head back, and slits his throat right then and there. The others take a few steps back, mist rises from their gaping mouths as he lets go of the bleeding slump, looking at the pulsing, open vein as if he intends to drink from it. But it seems he only wanted to confirm that the dead stay dead because his interest in this man fades as quickly as it was aroused.

She rises to her feet, only to get swept off them as he dives for her hips and raises her to a crude carry, mainly meant for wheat sacks and sheep.

With a wide palm resting on her butt, he hauls her back to his fire, further away from the open field, and she doesn’t dare to utter a word. He doesn’t squeeze her, he doesn’t grope or slap or force her, but he does throw the fur away from her shoulders to check her body for bruises. She stays silent for the whole inspection as he moves her joints and limbs to check if anything’s broken, carefully like she indeed was only a little lamb. Brushes the pads of his fingers across the darkening spots that tell a story of violence, and it makes her shiver.

They’re just bruises, but they’re also evidence that her body is not her own anymore. Still, this clinical inspection feels far more intimate and warm than the rough hands and demanding mouths from before: it’s not just the intention behind the touch, it’s his presence.

You’ve never felt so thoroughly seen.

A low rumble rises in agreement to you taking his probing so well, and you kind of wish he would hold you tonight.

Just… Hold you.

When he withdraws, content with finding you relatively intact after the attempted assault, you grab his wrist. His head snaps back instantly, but he doesn’t pry himself away from your insolent little fingers. If anything, he’s curious.

You don’t know his words, and he doesn’t know yours, so you decide it’s best not to speak at all.

Pulling his palm back, you bring it to your hip, then further up to your waist, trying to make it clear that it’s only closeness and body warmth you seek. You leave it there, and it stays there, out of its own free will. A thumb brushes over your ribs, explorative. His eyes travel, they move down the line of your neck and try to decide what you might want from him, but then you see the fathomless depths he’s been hiding. His eyes come alive, and there’s such darkness there, an unquenchable well of want that shoots fear straight down your stomach.

You were wrong about him, so wrong…

He’s not disinterested, he’s just been holding back a tide as if it’s no big deal to fight back the very gods on his own.

His palm feels like fire, but he doesn’t move, only battles with his demons for a while. You lie there before him, feeling utterly idiotic for thinking he’s different from the rest of the men.

But then… The fur gets drawn over your half naked body. Slowly, deliberately. He’s not reverent: he only knows the consequences of his actions, and this is a path he does not wish to take.

It doesn’t prevent him from laying himself down to sleep next to you, however.

It doesn’t prevent you from slowly reaching an arm around him, the rigid form that slowly, so slowly turns lax. You risk to curl against him: not safe, only warm. A stray royal cat and a ghoul who collects bones, you think, but then the ghoul sighs and turns. You should feel rejected from the way he presents his back to you, but you suspect that it has something to do with him coming alive downstairs.

And you cling to him.

He doesn’t rip you off of him as you slip a hand under his arm and bend against him, like a river otter who just found a fat clam. His solemn breaths lull you to sleep, and he stays still for you: all night until the birds start to sing and the sun warms your face, the whole heap of you two.

Like a big pile of snow, melting on a summer’s day…

[otocyon]

hii!! um.. could i have recipes that would apply for a warrior cat? any clan… i’m mostly just looking to fulfill how yummy all of the fresh kill sounded to me as a young cat :,) no restrictions btw!!

yippee i also wanted to eat the prey in warriors so bad... i still do couldn't pick a clan, so went with some general ones!! hope you enjoy :]

frogs/toads french fried frog legs || louisiana frog legs

birds pheasant coq au vin || honey & garlic wild duck || roasted whole doves with paprika and butter || whole roasted chicken

fish amazingly moist salmon || easy baked trout || cantonese steamed fish || easy baked herb crusted salmon

rabbits/hares rabbit in wine and garlic sauce || rabbit stew || garlic roasted rabbit || hunter rabbit

to satisfy certain cravings... raw fish: sashimi, sushi, tuna tartare, ceviche bones: wraps with just meat + lettuce/tortilla strips, skewer meat cubes on pretzels, eat chunks of meat with carrot sticks (or other crunchy vegetable) carrion: shredded or really saucy meat, ground meats, fermented meats, bacon bits/meat sticks/jerky fur/feathers: meat floss, rice noodles, kelp noodles, leafy greens, or shaved bits of vegetables

consider using whole animals to get the most accurate simulation if accessible to you, but most of these recipes should be available to do with fillets/cuts of meat as well.

[mysticstarlightduck]

Seven Sentences Sunday! Writing Share Tag! <3

Thanks for the tag, @rickie-the-storyteller!!!! I know this is a 7 Sentence Tag but I am too lazy so I'm gonna treat it as a Writing Share tag lmao

I'll go with a snippet from Arrows of Nightfall for this one (:

Snow crunched underneath Asrius' worn out, heavy fur-lined boots, as he trudged through the frozen trail. The ground was covered in thick blankets of white, frost crawling up the treetrunks and tinging everything around him with cold. The trees were barren, their ashen branches creaking in the howling wind, their fallen leaves long since turned to wet mulch under the thick snow.

The familiar smell of burning wood from scattered campires was the only welcome he had as he neared the war camp once more. It would've been comforting, if it wasn't followed by the faint smell of roasted venison and the cheers of the older soldiers sharing their vast, filling portions in the main tent. None of that feast would ever make its way to him, or to his cousin.

That, the Commander had made damn well sure of.

All that Asrius had to keep him and Eirian from starving in these frozen wastes were small, dwindling stashes of dry meat and stale old bread, and whatever small critter - usually a hare or a phesant, though now, at this point in the winter, where the forests had turned into a deserted death trap, he wasn't above hunting for rats - he could manage to kill and smuggle into camp without being spotted by his so-called comrades. If he was lucky.

Today, he wasn't lucky.

His hunting escapade today had left him with nothing more than weary, frost-bitten bones and empty hands, his entire body protesting the unwanted effort after the grueling scouting missions the Commander had not-so-generously burdened him with. Nothing. He'd gotten nothing. And he knew what awaited him in their small, shared tent in the far edge of camp - Eirian, his cousin, barely eleven winters of age, and their tiny stash of supplies hidden under an old pack. Today it wouldn't be enough for half a meal for even one of them, let alone them both.

He'd have to take a risk. To steal from the more favored soldiers, the ones gathering around the main table. The ones who loved to beat him up, and whose cruel laughter seemed to be the backdrop of his life nowadays. He'd have to try. Maybe he could swipe a pastry or two from the feast the others shared, sneak it away under his cloak. He hoped they were drunken enough that such an act would go unnoticed.

Asrius tugged at his cloak so it wrapped more tightly around his shoulders, as if the rough hewn cloth could offer something akin to warmth in this weather, with the wind slashing at his skin like icy daggers. Each step he took closer to the main tent felt like a battle against his own instincts screaming at him to just stop. But he couldn't afford to stop. If he did, he and Eirian would be soon to become like those corpses that seemed to litter the edge of the roads, gaunt husks reaped by illness and hunger, drained of life.

He refused to let that be their fate.

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[useless-catalanfacts]

Expressions for cold and heat in Catalan

Besides the simple "fa fred" (it's cold) and "fa calor" (it's hot), there are many fun expressions in the Catalan language to talk about it.

How to say it's cold? 🥶

Fa fred (it's cold)

Fa un fred que pela (the cold peels you)

Fa un fred de mil dimonis (it's a cold of a thousand demons)

Fa un fred que glaça el pensament (the cold freezes your thought)

Fa un fred que talla or fa un fred que talla la cara (the cold cuts or the cold cuts your face)

Fa un fred que rau (it's a cold that scrapes)

Fa un fred que aixeca les pedres (the cold lifts the stones up)

Fa un fred que glaça la cua dels gossos (the cold freezes dogs' tails)

How to say it's hot or sunny? 🥵☀️

Fa sol (it's sunny) / fa calor (it's hot)

Fa un sol de justícia (it's a sun of justice)

Fa un sol que bofega (it's a sun that blisters)

Fa un sol que estavella/esquerda/rosteix les pedres (it's a sun that breaks/roasts the stones)

Fa un sol que bada les pedres/penyes (it's a sun that opens the stones/crags)

Fa un sol que torra el cul a les llebres (it's a sun that toasts the hares' butts)

Fa un sol que tomba de cul (it's a sun that knocks you down on your butt)

Fa un sol que estaborneix (it's a sun that stuns / that knocks you out)

Fa un sol que fa grinyolar els cans (it's a sun that makes dogs yelp)

Fa un sol que fa caure la cua als moixons (it's a sun that makes birds' tails fall off)

Fa un sol que cauen els moixons rostits (it's a sun that the birds fall down roasted)

Fa un sol que torra pardals (it's a sun that toasts sparrows/birds)

Fa un sol que espanta les mosques (it's a sun that scares the flies)

Fa un sol que s'hi couen les sargantanes (it's a sun that boils lizards)

Cau foc or plou foc (fire is falling down or it's raining fire)

Cauen atxes enceses (lit torches are falling down)

Cau una bona teia (a good torch is falling down on us)

Fa una calor que atalba/aclapara (it's an overwhelming heat)

Fa una calor de mil dimonis (it's a heat of a thousand demons)

Fa una calor de cal Déu (it's a heat of God's house)

Fa una calor que sua el sagrari (it's a heat that the church tabernacle sweats)

Fa una calor que em suen les dents (it's a heat that my teeth sweat)

[iridescentmidnights]

If you haven’t read @bluepeachstudios Leosagi fic “The Tortoise and the Hare” I 10/10 highly recommend it. I need more people roasting my boy.

Based off the ever classic “is this a pigeon?” meme

[booksndpoetry]

The Tortoise and The Hare

m.list

A/N: Something I wrote while listening to the Stray Kids song, 'The Tortoise and the Hare' and wanted it to be sweet but now I don't know what this is.

WC: 292 words.

Characters: Seo Changbin X Gender-Neutral Reader

Genre: Fluff, Humour

Warnings/Triggers: None I can think of- Oh! Changbin's biceps.

You squint and glare at your boyfriend, from your seat across the living room, both from being interrupted from reading a really good fic, and the fact that he basically roasted you after referring to you as the hare from the popular story. 

“You know”, Changbin begins, “If we were animals, you’d be a hare, and I’d be a tortoise.” 

“Please elaborate.” You give him a sickly-sweet smile while crumpling the empty paper cup you had just finished drinking from. Aggressively, to make sure he hears it.  

“Looking at it, you’re always chasing words and running so fast. Sometimes you run so fast I almost feel like I might lose you out of my sight. But, I’m a tortoise. And I’m nothing if not a winner. I will always be there to catch you. The world is round, isn’t it?”

“I can’t believe you just said something so sweet and here I was ready to throw hands with you”, you offer him a grin and saunter up to him to feel his arms. They feel nice. Amazing actually. 

“Sometimes, I think you spend time with me just for my arms.” He rolls his eyes. 

“Wait, only sometimes? You should know me better than that. I always spend time with you just for your arms.”

He shoves you off him like you’re nothing but a stick, and you fall from the couch. His eyes widen, and he immediately scrambles towards the door, holding it in front of him like a shield. You slowly stalk towards him, and he bolts out the door. Maybe you really were a hare, and he was about to be your prey.

“Hares are herbivores, right? Please don’t kill me.” Changbin yells, even as he runs farther from you. 

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© booksndpoetry 2024. All rights reserved. Please do not plagiarise, translate, repost or steal my works in any way. All idols used in this piece are just inspiration for characters. They do not reflect the real people in any way.

[luveline]

maybe grumpy!r with zombie!au jonathon ? totally fine if this doesn’t work haha have a good day <3

tysm ♡

The river kisses the rubber toes of your shoes, rushing water loud over stone. If Jonathan knew you were sitting by the river defenceless he'd worry in his way, sweetness first and annoyance second.

But Jonathan won't know, you decide, tracing the silky blue water until it turns to froth. 

It's not his fault, not Will's, not any of your group's fault that you resent your life with so much passion, and so you try to leave them alone when you know you'll lash out. Will says your sullen, Jon just says you're tired, but it's Hopper who hits the nail on the head, every time. 

"You're a grump, kid. Old man in a young girl's body."

You're not sure about young —you feel like living to this age is impressive enough in the circumstances— but you agree to being thought grumpy. You're kind of awful, actually. 

"How many times do I have to tell you?" 

You jump at Jonathan's voice at your shoulder and almost smack your skulls together. "How many times do I have to tell you?" you ask, glaring at his easy smile. "Don't fucking sneak up on me." 

"Don't sit by the river alone. Idiot. It's too loud, you'd never hear a geek coming up behind you and then I'd have to put you out of your misery, and how is that fair? I don't want to kill you. Will would never forgive me." 

"That's your reason?" 

"Sure is. I got you this." 

A hand thrust in front of you, a flower twirled by the stem. You're not sure what kind it is or where he got it, but it's tall and strong, petals all shades of purple. You accept it with tender fingers. It feels foreign to see something as starkly beautiful as his clean flower between all the gore and grit of your life on foot. 

"Thank you," you murmur. 

"Anything for me?" 

Jonathan looks at you head on. Christ, he's handsome. He doesn't seem to think so, but it's in his smile, and the way he talks, the easy roll of his shoulders now and his more timid moments, too. It's in his laugh, his eyes. 

You huff in annoyance and kiss him. 

"Don't be like that," he says against your lips, punctuating with two quick kisses. 

"I'm not being like anything."

"Don't kiss me if you don't want to," he says, his fingers wrapped around your wrist. You love his touch, the firm, almost rough brunt of his thumb against your pulse and his forehead as it rests on your shoulder. "It's fine. I'll just die miserable." 

"You're not funny," you say, staring at the top of his head. 

"You're not, either, but I usually laugh." Jonathan stops his teasing, his voice shining with sincerity as his lips skip over your sleeve. "Are you okay? I was worried about you. I am worried about you." 

You look down at your flower, a perfect little gift. It staves away the dirty feeling that lingers on your skin. 

"Do you think I could press this? Keep it forever?" you ask. 

Jonathan sits up, spinning away from you so you're staring in opposite directions, hip to hip. "Yeah, you can. You just need a little tissue paper. But if it doesn't work, I'll find you another one." 

"What if it's winter?" 

"I'll find you something else." 

"I want something pretty as this," you warn. 

"Then I'll find you a mirror." It's awful because he's not joking. 

You take his hand and put it on your thigh to watch his cheeks turn pink. The river roars, the smell of roasted frogs and hare drifts along the breeze, and Jonathan Byers can't look at you. He's all talk. 

"Thanks, Jon," you murmur, rubbing his knuckles. 

He coughs. "You're welcome." 

[the-eyes-special-boy]

paul gets a cat and names it stilgar and will only consult the cat. not actual stilgar.

paul: what should I have for dinner?

cat stilgar: meow

paul: yeah roast dessert hare does sound good right about now.

actual stilgar: this is just stupid now

chani: let the cat speak

[littlefaefeather]

Black Butler manga foods/drinks

I'm sure I missed some things, but it was all things that weren't really named or specified, or I couldn't tell with certainty what they were. @sebastian-ciel-mutual-bullying this is for you! feel free to take and use as you need o7 Book 1 breakfast: poached salmon and mint salad with toast, scones, and pain de campagne on the sides, ceylon tea horribly salty lemonade dinner: Japanese green tea, gyuutatakidon, Italian red wine, apricot and green tea mille-feuille dessert: orchard fruit cake with pears, plums, and blackberries dessert: deep-dish apple raisin pie milk

Book 2 assam tea afternoon tea: keemun and summer pudding of currants and other berries lunch: stuffed cabbage and minted potato salad chocolate earl grey afternoon tea: cornmeal cake of pears and blackberries salty rosehip herbal tea

Book 3 hot milk with honey or brandy peeled apple assam tea with milk oranges with shalimar tea steak and kidney pie and salmon sandwiches messy birthday cake and donburi strawberry-decorated birthday cake

Book 4 fish chai with ginger breakfast: shrimp curry and French toast with ginger mackerel with gooseberry sauce and cottage pie

Book 5 British-style Bengali chicken curry chicken curry afternoon snack: gateau au chocolat beef curry blue lobster with seven curries curry bun assam tea white darjeeling tea champagne sushi

Book 6 Christmas pudding cookies shaped like bones fish and chips, meat pies, bread

Book 7 rice porridge dinner: milk risotto with a three-mushroom medley, a pot-au-feu of pork and wine, and a warm apple compote with yogurt sauce

Book 8 oranges afternoon tea: chocolate macarons with fruits and three-berry shortcake

Book 9 custard cream puffs red wine white wine brunch: herring pie and spinach quiche dinner: curry, and chopped vegetables for an appetizer

Book 10 dinner: soybean hamburg steaks

Book 11 elevenses: darjeeling tea and petits fours tonkatsu, shougayaki, tonjiru, tonshabu, yakiton

Book 12 cake with strawberries on top

Book 13 spiny lobster saute, roast turkey, sticky toffee pudding, fairy cakes (cupcakes) warm milk with honey

Book 14 watered-down darjeeling tea darjeeling tea dinner: roast duck and gateau chocolat

Book 15 golden syrup sponge pudding tea cakes lemon myrtle souffle glace with milk tea

Book 16 lunch: beef mince pie

Book 17 dessert: strawberries, cream, and meringue (Eton mess) with a side of iced summer pudding

Book 18 chicken pie coffee and walnut cake

Book 19 ravioli (maultaschen) and wurst soup, stewed pork with herbs and spices (eisbein), and rote grutze (sour berries boiled and chilled to jelly, served with cream) evening snack: caramel macarons, coffee cream eclairs, dark chocolate florentines. black tea ceylon tea

Book 22 earl grey tea with orange almond cake and berry tarts

Book 23 smoked salmon sandesh (milk sweets)

Book 24 soft licorice candy apples

Book 25 berry-filled pudding fish and chips and steak and ale pie gulab jamun (fried balls of dough drenched in syrup)

Book 29 kidney pie, fish and chips, and ale wild-hare pie tapioca steak

Book 30 nilgiri tea breakfast: pea soup, meatballs, croissants, boiled egg, orange jelly chicken and steamed vegetable salad, oxtail stew, pain de campagne with butter oolong tea

Book 31 candy cigarettes

[whencyclopedia]

The Nerge: Hunting in the Mongol Empire

The peoples of the Mongol Empire (1206-1368 CE) were nomadic, and they relied on hunting wild game as a valuable source of protein. The Asian steppe is a desolate, windy, and often bitterly cold environment, but for those Mongols with sufficient skills at riding and simultaneously using a bow, there were wild animals to be caught to supplement their largely dairy-based diet. Over time, hunting and falconry became important cultural activities and great hunts were organised whenever there were major clan gatherings and important celebrations. These hunts involved all of the tribe mobilising across vast areas of steppe to corner game into a specific area, a technique known as the nerge. The skills and strategies used during the nerge were often repeated with great success by Mongol cavalry on the battlefield across Asia and in Eastern Europe.

Hunted Animals

The Mongols, like other nomadic peoples of the Asian steppe, relied on milk from their livestock for food and drink, making cheese, yoghurt, dried curds and fermented drinks. The animals they herded - sheep, goats, oxen, camels and yaks - were generally too precious as a regular source of wool and milk to kill for meat and so protein was acquired through hunting, essentially any wild animal that moved. Animals hunted in the medieval period included hares, deer, antelopes, wild boars, wild oxen, marmots, wolves, foxes, rabbits, wild asses, Siberian tigers, lions, and many wild birds, including swans and cranes (using snares and falconry). Meat was especially in demand when great feasts were held to celebrate tribal occasions and political events such as the election of a new khan or Mongol ruler.

A basic division of labour was that women did the cooking and men did the hunting. Meat was typically boiled and more rarely roasted and then added to soups and stews. Dried meat (si'usun) was an especially useful staple for travellers and roaming Mongol warriors. In the harsh steppe environment, nothing was wasted and even the marrow of animal bones was eaten with the leftovers then boiled in a broth to which curd or millet was added. Animal sinews were used in tools and fat was used to waterproof items like tents and saddles.

The Mongols considered eating certain parts of those wild animals which were thought to have potent spirits such as wolves and even marmots a help with certain ailments. Bear paws, for example, were thought to help increase one's resistance to cold temperatures. Such concoctions as powdered tiger bone dissolved in liquor, which is attributed all sorts of benefits for the body, is still a popular medicinal drink today in parts of East Asia.

Besides food and medicine, game animals were also a source of material for clothing. A bit of wolf or snow leopard fur trim to an ordinary robe indicated the wearer was a member of the tribal elite. Fur-lined jackets, trousers, and boots were a welcome insulator against the bitter steppe winters, too.

Continue reading...

[fangirleaconmigo]

Still on my reread of The Witcher books, and I love how Yarpen Zigrin describes Ciri in this passage in Blood of Elves.

Geralt and Ciri are traveling with Yarpen and his men in a caravan. Ciri insists on helping haul a cauldron of water. When Yarpen is impressed by her strength, she insists:

“I’m strong!”

One of the dwarves laughs at her, as one would laugh at a little kid a who is too optimistic about their own abilities.

To which Yarpen replies:

“Don’t judge her by appearances, Paulie,” said Yarpen seriously, as he skillfully divided the roast gray hare into portions. “There’s nothing to laugh at here. She’s skinny, but I can see she’s a robust and resilient lass.”

So he takes her deadly seriously even though she is just a child. He sees her strength and inner resilience. Then he uses this analogy that I love:

“She’s like a leather belt. Thin. But it can’t be torn apart in your hands. And if you were to hang your self on it, it would bear your weight too.”

No one laughed.

So he says, not only is she tough, but if you bring it upon yourself, if you test her strength, you may find she is able to take you on.

I love that. Children and especially little girls so often have their strength underestimated and I like that Yarpen immediately sees her as a person, for who she is.

There is also a call back moment in a later book that reveals that Yarpen taught her how to flip people off. So. Love that friendship.

[akwolfgrl]

My frist one piece fan fic, I hope it's good. Any feed back is welcome and wanted. I don't have any friends into this anime. Part 1 LFT

Zoro rested his back against the wall of the galley, his arms crossed over his chest as observed their newest member, the blond, had been of help during arlong park battle. His kicks a powerful weapon of destruction. His flexibility and agility, Zoro couldn't move that way. He couldn't help but wonder if the cook could put that to good use in the bedroom.

"I'm surprised at how good smells in here," Zoro couldn't resist the need to tease the blond.

"Dinners not ready yet, if you want to add your likes and dislikes the list is the table, if your hare to steal a bite you can think fucking again swordsmen, I won't hesitate to kick you out literally," He hadn't even bothered to turn around, cigarette smoke filled the air above his head.

Zoro pushed himself off the wall and wandered over the table, a dark blue notebook and a blue feathered pen. Zoro took a seat and flipped through the book until he found his name. There wasn't much on there, just the fact he liked sake. Zoro hadn't expected the prissy cook to go this far in making sure the crew was well fed, once again Luffy somehow knew what he was doing.

"Oi, shit cook whatcha making?" Zoro asked as he filled out the notebook.

"Fuck off," Cook swore at at beofre replying to his answer. "I'm making bouillabaisse with rouille, and chocolate souffle for dessert,"

"First what the fuck is a what ever said, I don't think that will be enough for Luffy, I don't like chocolate so skip mine," Zoro thought chocolate was far to sweet for his liking. He didn't know what souffle was, to be honest.

"Bouillabaisse is a fishmen fish stew, rouille is just something that goes on top of the crusty bread you use to dip and soak up the stew with. I saw how much Luffy eats and I have a leg of lamb and roast chicken in the oven for him. No chocolate? Fuck your even weirder then I thought marimo, but that's easy to fix, what sounds better fruit or chesse?" Sanji asked.

"Chi, whatever curly brows, witch ever goes good with sake," Zoro replied, looking up at the blond man, what he wouldn't give to have his thighs wrapped around his head.

"Hmm, let me check something," The man stepped away from the stove and took a look into the fridge. Zoro got a great view of simmer man perfect ass he bent over to dig threw the fridge. "Cheese it is, a nice sharp chess will pair well with the sake on hand, that is if you didn't drink all!"

"I can't drink it all when you lock it up!" Zoro argued back, he enjoyed the banter between them. Sanji may be snobby, prissy and annoying but he was also strong, loud mouthed and swore like any good sailor worth their salt.

"Good that means it's working, are you done bugging me yet?" The cook asked, finally turning back to glare at him.

Zoro grinned and leaned up his hands behind his head. "I'm just getting comfortable, if you got a problem with that do something about it, but I have one last question for you," Zoro watched as Sanji stalked towards him cigarette smoke trailing behind him.

"And what's that?"

"Can you fuck as good as you fight?"