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emachinescat · 4 years ago

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Explosion + Hands + Jack

A MacGyver Fan-Fiction

by @emachinescat

@febuwhump �� day 22 - burned

Summary: A bomb Mac is disposing of goes off prematurely – and Mac’s hands pay the price. Or, the time when Jack has to be Mac's hands.

Characters: Mac, Jack

Words: 2,945

TW: Relatively graphic description of burns

Note: This story is based loosely off a scene from classic MacGyver. Also, please take the vague MacGyverism with a grain of salt. I did some research (and also wrote this before Mac made the same thing a different way on the newest episode), but I also took some creative liberties.

Keep reading here, or on AO3!

If you enjoy, please consider liking, commenting, or re-blogging, and you can follow me for more content like this!

"These have to be the stupidest bad guys I've ever met," Jack griped. He sat in an old dining chair, ankles lashed together with rope and hands tied behind his back. MacGyver was his mirror image, tied similarly, in another chair, back to back with his partner. Their bound hands had been connected to each other, so every time Mac moved, working the ropes, Jack's arms jerked with him.

Even though he couldn't see Mac's face, he could clearly picture the raised eyebrow in his mind's eye as Mac responded dryly, "And you're… complaining about it?"

A cramp ran through Jack's upper back, and he instinctively rolled his shoulders. Mac squawked indignantly as Jack's movement impeded his progress. "Hey, watch it! You almost made me stab myself!"

"Sorry." Jack paused for a brief moment, trying not to think about why Mac was working so feverishly to cut through the thick ropes with his knife – seriously, they hadn't taken his knife before they'd tied them up! – without cutting himself or Jack. "You about got it, hoss?"

Mac's voice was strained with concentration when he responded. "Just … about," he grunted. "Keep talking."

Jack smirked. "Can't get enough of hearing ol' Jack's wisdom, huh?"

"It's more like white noise, but if it makes you feel better…"

"It does." Jack continued on his earlier line of conversation. "I'm just sayin', man, these lunatics didn't leave nobody here to keep an eye on us, and they left Angus MacGyver tied with regular ol' rope with his SAK in his pocket and a room stock fulla toys he can use to escape." When he spoke, Jack's Texas drawl was thicker than usual. He'd noticed that his accent got more pronounced when he was nervous or in a rough situation. He'd mentioned it to Mac once, and his partner had quickly informed him that it was more than likely a coping mechanism, Jack's way of unconsciously trying to keep himself calm. Jack disagreed. He was convinced that his cowboy twang got heavier in nerve wracking situations because he was actively channeling the spirit of Clint Eastwood and his mind and body were preparing him to do some insanely awesome hero stuff to fix the situation.

"Yeah, well… they also left a bomb in the room," Mac reasoned. Jack could feel the sawing motion as Mac carefully made his way through the rope. Any other time, Jack knew that he would have cut through it in half the time, but with all four of their collective hands gathered together in one bundle of scratchy rope, Mac had to move slowly, methodically, so he didn't cut either one of them. Normally, it wouldn't be a problem for him to take his time, but as Mac had so helpfully pointed out, there was the matter of a ticking bomb just out of arm's reach. And they had no idea how much time was left.

Jack tried to paint their situation in a better light. "It's just a little one. The explosion won't even be all that big."

"No," Mac agreed, "but with all the gasoline they scattered around us, I think it's a safe bet that the size of the explosion won't matter, since we'll burn with the warehouse."

A snap, a sigh of relief, and then Jack felt Mac move in the chair, and knew he was bending forward to untie his feet. As soon as he was free, Mac pelted forward so quickly that he pushed the chairs back a couple of inches, Jack and all. He didn't stop to untie Jack – no time – but he did leave the SAK in his palm. Jack immediately started sawing at his own ropes.

He was still working when he heard Mac swear loudly from somewhere behind him. A queasy dread settled in Jack's gut.

"Talk to me, Mac!"

"No time!" Mac spat, and Jack knew, heart stuttering, that his partner wasn't just saying that he had no time to talk – there was no time on the bomb.

"I can't disarm it!" Mac yelled, his voice growing farther away as he ran, presumably with the bomb in tow, away from Jack. "I'm going to try to contain it!"

Jack continued to cut at the ropes – almost there! He heard the sound of something metal being pried open, and he remembered that there was a large dumpster near the door of the warehouse, one of those industrial ones. Hope rose cautiously within him. Mac had done similar things before; there was no reason why it shouldn't work this time!

The one thing that he didn't factor in, however, was the bomb's timer running out before Mac could close the dumpster.

He heard the explosion, a terrible, anguished scream, and then, the worst sound of all – low, uncontrollable, rocking sobs of pain.

Jack cut himself three times in his haste to get free, but he made it to Mac's side in less than a minute. What he saw made his stomach curdle and his hands shake as he pulled Mac back, further from the smoking dumpster.

Mac had curled into himself on the floor, his hands gnarled before him in pain. Once they'd moved a safe distance from the mostly contained bomb, Jack took a closer look at them and nearly vomited – not from the blood or the burns themselves, but from the knowledge that these were Mac's hands that had been caught in the explosion, burned, blistered, and bloody almost beyond recognition. Jack knew he should be grateful that all of Mac's fingers were intact, but it was hard to feel thankful for anything when Mac's hands could serve as a suitable stand-in for ground beef.

Mac's head was low, chin flush against his chest, his shoulders trembling in pain. Jack remembered when Mac had sustained first and second degree burns pulling his dumb ass out of a crematorium. Jack too had been burned on the bottoms of his feet, and the healing process for both Mac and himself had been one of the most painful experiences either of them could recall in recent memory. There had been debriding, cleaning, bandages, antibiotics, and, in Mac's case, a few sessions of physical therapy.

This was so much worse.

"Mac, buddy," Jack entreated, trying to keep his voice steady for his partner's sake. His accent was slathered liberally on every syllable, his voice gentle and quiet, like he was approaching a startled horse. "I need you to look at me. Are you hurt anywhere else?"

Mac didn't respond, just heaved in a great gulp of air, and the breath rattled in his lungs like the last throes of a dying man. The sound clenched its icy fist around Jack's heart. He reached out, placing his index and middle fingers carefully beneath Mac's chin and lifting his kid's head to look him in the eyes. What he saw there nearly killed him.

Jack had been Mac's overwatch for a long time, and he'd seen the kid in a lot of less than ideal situations – roughed up, sick, shot, you name it. But never had Jack seen the level of fear and pain blazing in Mac's eyes as he did now. Tear streaks ran down his face, which was sooty and a bit red, especially around his forehead, but the burns on his face were superficial. Definitely first-degree. He'd managed to shield his face and eyes from the blast.

But his hands… Mac had to have just let go of the bomb to drop it in the dumpster for his hands to look like that but still be basically intact. Jack moved his hand from Mac's chin and cupped his partner's face in his hand, gently brushing a tear away, trying to get Mac's attention on him, to calm him down. "Mac, talk to me." He had no idea how he was keeping himself from crying right alongside his friend. "I need to know you're with me."

Mac hiccuped, took a deep breath through his nose and made a visible effort to calm himself down. When he spoke, every bit of the agony Jack saw in his face translated to his voice. "I–I'm okay."

Jack chuckled, but there was no humor to it. "I don't believe that for a second. But you will be, ya hear me?"

Mac nodded shakily, a low, keening whine building at the base of his throat like a wounded hound dog. He choked out, "It h-hurts."

"I know, bud. Can I see your hands?"

Mac shook his head, pulling his hands closer to his body. "Not yet. We n-need to find a way out of here f-f-first." Mac's teeth had started chattering, which sent a whole new wave of fear tearing through Jack's body. If Mac was going into shock, they were really out of time. And as much as Jack wanted to get a better idea of the damage, figure out what they were working with, he knew Mac was right. In all the chaos and worry, he'd almost forgotten that they were still locked in the warehouse with a smoking dumpster slowly turning the air against them. From where they sat on the floor, the air wasn't bad yet, but they needed to kick it into third gear – it wouldn't stay that way for long.

"Okay," Jack agreed. "How do we get out? As I recall, they've padlocked all the doors from the outside, and this whole place is made of steel. Can you figure out how to make something to bust those doors down?"

Mac's eyes, glazed with pain, darted around the warehouse, which had until very recently been one of the stashes of the cartel that had captured them. "Uhhh…" His voice broke, and Jack saw Mac's hands twitch in a painful spasm out of the corner of his eye. Fresh tears welled up, and Mac blew out a shaky breath. "Okay. Yeah. We should b-be able to make a blowtorch to c-cut us out of here."

Jack shot Mac a dubious look. "You're not makin' anything hoss, and I sure as hell don't know how to make a blowtorch. Think you got it in you to walk me through it?"

Mac didn't look so sure, and Jack's stomach flipped as he saw how much the trembling had increased. Still, MacGyver was never one to admit defeat, and he nodded. His voice was thick with pain, dry and raspy, but he managed to walk Jack through a collection of basic supplies, all of which were readily available in their current space – an empty syringe, a thumbtack, pliers, lighter fluid, and Jack's own lighter, which the bad guys had left on him. Seems the only things they'd actually taken were their prisoner's phones.

By the time Mac had coached Jack through the process of actually building the DIY blowtorch, an incredibly precise and delicate venture that Jack barely managed with his sausage-like fingers, smoke was beginning to gather in earnest, and Mac was shaking so badly that he sounded like he was working a jackhammer when he talked. But Jack had finished it, and to his shock and utter relief, it worked – he'd not doubted Mac, of course, but his own ability to bring Mac's idea to fruition – and Mac had offered a pained, crooked smile at him, and said, "S-s-see, we m-make a p-p-pretty good t-team." Then, whether from pain or shock or hyperventilation, he passed out, and Jack only spared enough time to check his vitals before he used his lighter-turned-blowtorch to cut his way through the steel wall of the warehouse.

It was a slow process, and Jack burned himself no less four times, but at last he'd carved their escape route. The men who'd left them here to burn had gone. Jack hoisted Mac onto his shoulder, taking extra care not to jostle his mangled hands, and set out in search of a phone – he knew there was a gas station a few miles away.

Mac just had to hold on until then.

***

24 Hours Later

Jack was there when Mac woke up from his first surgery.

Jack was always there when Mac woke up in medical.

Mac peered at him through groggy, drug-hazy eyes and gave his partner a weak smile. "Hey, Jack."

Jack fought the urge to pull the kid into the tightest bear hug he'd ever experienced. Only a glance down at Mac's heavily bandaged hands lying delicately on his chest kept him where he was, in the cushioned hospital chair that played at being comfortable but really wasn't after ten minutes. Jack had been sitting in it for nearly sixteen hours, give or take, not counting bathroom breaks and coffee runs. Others had stopped by at various times, too – Matty, Bozer, and Riley chief among them – but right now it was just Jack and Mac. The way it had always been.

The way it would always be.

"Hey, kiddo. How're ya feelin'?"

Mac thought about this for a long moment, his brow furrowed in concentration like he was trying to figure out some complicated equation. Finally, he answered, "Weird."

Jack threw his head back and laughed, though what Mac had said in no way warranted the kind of reaction he was getting. It was like all of the stress and fear and uncertainty and trauma of the last day were riding the shockwave of that almost manic laugh.

Mac's eyebrows creased further in concern. "What's so funny?"

Jack scrubbed at his eyes with his sleeve, not sure if his eyes were watering from laughing, or if he had started crying somewhere along the way. "Nothing, hoss. What feels weird?"

"Floaty?" Mac answered uncertainty. From where Jack was sitting, Mac looked all of seven years old, tucked into the hospital bed in the Phoenix recovery ward, hair messy, eyes tired and confused.

Jack patted Mac on the shoulder, and Mac stared at the hand like it was the most surprising thing he'd ever encountered. Damn, they had him on the good stuff. He told Mac as much.

Mac's eyes were already drifting shut, the pull of the drugs too strong. "You go to sleep," Jack said softly, unable to keep himself from brushing a stray lock of hair from Mac's reddened forehead. "We can talk more when you wake up."

Mac, for once, did as he was told.

***

Jack spent the night at Mac's side, of course, despite Matty's urging that he go home and get some sleep. He wouldn't have been able to sleep, anyway, even if he had been in his own bed. He couldn't stop thinking, stop remembering. When he looked at Mac now, he saw pristine white bandages and the kind of tentative peace that could only come from whatever drugs they had him on – probably morphine and a cocktail of antibiotics, if he had his guess.

The problem was, Jack knew what lay beneath the bandages. He had seen, once he had finally found a phone and called for help, the extent of damage that had been done to Mac's hands up close. And it terrified him.

Even now every time he closed his eyes, even to blink, he could see his kid's hands, covered in burns, some so deep that Jack swore he could see tendons. They were bloody and blistered and the angriest shade of red Jack had ever seen.

He also saw, whenever his body betrayed him and he started to doze off, the way that MacGyver had writhed and twitched and moaned even while unconscious as Jack tried to examine them. His mind dragged him back to the Phoenix chopper, where a medical team immediately gave Mac painkillers and started debriding the burns. Mac had woken up then, thrashing and screaming the most terrible, guttural, animal screams, and Jack had been forced to hold him down while the medics worked, and he'd cried alongside Mac, and after they'd landed and Mac had been rushed in, Jack had found the nearest trash can and puked his guts out.

Even now, one surgery down, it was far from over. The doctor's prognosis had been hopeful, but cautious. Mac should be able to gain control of his hands again, should be able to build things and destroy Jack's phones and return fist bumps and high fives, and open doors and climb and pick things up and shoot hoops and anything else he wanted to do… but it would take time.

Six surgeries, minimum, to repair damage to tendons, do skin grafts. Mac's hands would always bear some scars, even though Phoenix had flown in the best surgeons in the country to rebuild the hands that usually did the rebuilding. And the few sessions of physical therapy he'd been through the last time he'd burned his hands were child's play to the PT he had in store in the coming months.

Jack sure as hell hoped the world would hold it together until MacGyver healed. He knew that it might as well have ended if Mac hadn't made it out of that explosion alive. Jack's world would have, at any rate.

But, Jack reminded himself as he watched the steady rise and fall of Mac's chest, despite all of the pain and physical therapy and surgeries in his future, Mac was by far the strongest person he knew. He had no doubt that the cautionary "should" the doctor placed on Mac's recovery was more of a "will definitely," because Mac didn't let anything slow him down for long.

So Jack had to be strong, too.

"I'll do it for you, Mac," he said aloud. He carded his fingers gently through mussed blonde hair.

It was a promise he intended to keep.

21 notes · View notes

bilbos · 6 years ago

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Date Night || Tyson Barrie

requested: yes || no

word count: 3.1k

warnings: none

author’s note: this was written for @thepensieve as part of my blog awards <3 this got a little bit out of hand from the original request, but uhhh here we are!!

You aren’t even sure why you agreed to go your work’s Christmas dinner. It’s not that you don’t love your coworkers, but it’s the fact that it’s a formal dinner. You can’t even remember the last time you owned formal wear, much less wearing it. So, that’s how you’ve ended up in the shops two weeks before the dinner struggling to find something that fits you and you actually like.

Shopping while also being plus-sized is already hard enough when looking for everyday clothes, but now you’ve been walking around the same store for what feels like days trying to find something that you can wear. While there are some dresses that you think could work, you just aren’t feeling them. None of them feel like you, if you’re being honest.

As you do one last go around to make sure there isn’t anything that could be worth it and end the misery of shopping, someone stands in front of you. When you look up, you see a guy about your age, smiling more than he had the right to.

“Do you need any help?” he asks.

“Um…I think I’ve had a good enough look around to know that nothing here is going to work,” you answer, as politely as you could.

“Have you been looking at the dresses and tuxes?”

“Tuxes?” you reply, confused. “I...don’t think I could wear a tux.”

“And I say you can. Just let me help you a little bit,” he says, insistent. “I’m Tyson, by the way.”

“I’m y/n,” you reply, still pretty dubious about the whole thing.

Sure, girls could rock tuxes, but you’ve never seen a plus-sized girl rock a tux before. Tyson can still tell you’re not totally convinced, so he proceeds to drag you over to where all of the dress pants and shirts are. He seems determined enough to help you (and cute enough) that you decide to give him a little bit of time before telling Tyson that it’s going to be a hopeless case.

“So, what’s the occasion exactly?” he inquires.

“It’s a Christmas dinner for work. Not that excited for it, but I’ve been avoiding my coworkers outside of work long enough.”

“Well, I’ll make sure to find something extra impressive then.”

You snort. “Good luck with that, Tyson. I’ve been searching for a couple hours now and nothing seems quite right.”

“Sometimes you just need another set of eyes. I haven’t failed someone yet, so just trust me, okay?”

There’s just something about Tyson that seems so genuine that you nod. “Fine, okay. Find me something magical.”

He beams and starts looking around. “Wait, what are your sizes?”

You blush. The thought of sharing your sizes didn’t even cross your mind. “Oh. Um. Right.”

You tell him your sizes, trying not to curl up into yourself when you rattle them off. He doesn’t even seem fazed, but you’ve been hurt enough to not take that worth a grain of salt.

Tyson nods. “Okay, I’ll make sure to do you good. Just wait here. Or in the waiting area by the changing room?”

“I’ll go wait over there.”

You walk over and sit down. Of course he would need to know your sizes. Sharing your clothing sizes with a complete stranger is never a fun experience and it’s exactly why you’ve avoided going to places to get fitted. Obviously, there’s supposed to be no judgement, but you can just feel it whenever you have gone in.

About fifteen minutes later, Tyson comes walking over with a pile of clothes and a large smile. There’s a bunch of different styles that make you hesitate, but if you’ve learned anything, it’s to not say no and just go with the flow of things. The worst thing that could happen would be that you don’t like it. Besides, it’s not like you would ever have to see Tyson again if this goes horribly.

“So, this is what I found and would look really great on you,” Tyson explains. “But show me each outfit, okay?”

“Uh, do I have to?”

“Yes, I didn’t pick all these out to not hype you up.”

“I think we’re getting too excited here. No reason to hype up if it doesn’t look good.”

“Okay, but I doubt anything won’t look good on you.”

You roll your eyes and take the clothes from Tyson. Quickly, you decide to get the suits that you know you won’t like out of the way. There’s a pretty colorful statement suit that Tyson picked out. While you do enjoy color, the combination doesn’t really fit you. When you walk out to show Tyson, he can see your hesitance.

“Not your style?” he asks.

“Not really. These just…aren’t my favorite colors. Could I just try on the ones that I know I’ll like?”

“Of course! No need to try on something that you know you won’t like.”

You nod and look through the suits again. There’s a floral suit that isn’t too overwhelming. The print isn’t too bold, but it’s enough to be considered a more fun style. Sighing, you change into it. When you look at yourself, you realize you don’t completely hate it. You could try and make this work.

As you walk out, Tyson beams at you. “You look amazing in that.”

You blush. “Uh, thanks. I think this one might be the one, to be honest. I also don’t want to hang out here any longer, if I’m being honest.”

“Well, our exchange policy is fairly lenient in case you change your mind. Go ahead and change and I’ll bring you to the front to check out.”

You nod and change back into your normal clothes. As you walk to the front with Tyson, he doesn’t immediately jump behind the counter like you thought he would. He catches your questioning look.

“I, uh, haven’t been trained on the register yet, but another one of my coworkers will be up here soon.”

Another guy walks up only a few seconds later and rings up your suit. He doesn’t talk much, but he keeps giving Tyson weird looks. Maybe it was some weird competition thing going on or something, but you let it slide.

“Alright, would you like a bag with that, miss?” he asks.

“No thanks. Have a good day!”

You nod to Tyson as you walk out, wondering what just happened.

~ ~ ~

“Tyson, what the hell was that?” Nate exclaims.

“Well, she looked like she needed help and nobody else was around. And she was really cute,” Tyson explains.

Nate sighs. “Did you at least get her number?”

There’s a small pause.

“No,” Tyson whispers.

“Oh my god, Tyson. You’re literally the worst.”

Tyson shrugs. “Maybe she’ll come back?”

“Let’s hope so, for your sake.”

~ ~ ~

The dinner went about as well as you were expecting it to. There was more socializing than you wanted and the food was amazing. Honestly, the most unexpected part of it was how many people complimented you on your suit. Considering how well Tyson had done, you decided to pop in and see if he’s working today.

When you walk in, you see the person who rang up your items. Maybe he knows if Tyson is in today. As you walk up to him, his eyes widen a little bit.

“Are you looking for Tyson?” he asks.

“Oh, uh, yeah,” you reply. “Is he in today? I just wanted to tell him thank you.”

“Well, he isn’t in at the moment, but I can give you his phone number. So, you can tell him personally.”

“You don’t have to do that. Maybe you can just pass on the message?”

“Trust me, he would really appreciate hearing it from you personally. Just take his number and let him know that Nate gave you his number.”

You frown for a moment. “Fine. But he better not be creepy about it.”

“If he gets creepy about it, you have my full permission to punch him in the face.”

“I’ll hold you to that, Nate.”

He laughs a little before telling you Tyson’s number. You don’t even think about texting him until you get back home. This isn’t what you were expecting at all, but it couldn’t be the worst thing that’s happened. Besides, Nate said that you could punch Tyson if things got weird.

Hey, Nate gave me your number so I could say thanks! I really appreciate your help and pushing me out of my comfort zone. The suit got a lot of compliments as well :)

He doesn’t reply right away, so you continue about your day, trying to get some small tasks done that have been piling up recently. It’s a few hours later when you end up checking your phone again, and Tyson has replied.

I’m glad you liked it :))) sorry I was able to catch you in the store tho

No worries!! what hours do you work?? just in case I wanna get styled again

uh, so. funny story. I don’t technically work there? but like I hang out there with Nate all the time so I know the store kind of well?

???? uh ???

This is so weird

I’m sorry

god you’re probably so fucking creeped out

I just hang out there all the time and when I saw you, I wanted to talk to you

like you’re so pretty and I just wanted to help you

I’ll just leave you alone now

You feel bad not replying, but you’re honestly just confused and a little bit mad right now. Deep down, you know that Tyson really doesn’t have any bad intentions, but you’re still not sure why he didn’t say anything right off the bat. Like, you might have been confused at first, but you wouldn’t have reacted negatively.

Eventually, you text him letting him know that and that you’re going to be busy for the rest of the night (even though you’re not), just so that you have time to think things over. Thinking things over also includes calling one of your best friends, Hannah.

“He what?” Hannah exclaims, after you explain the situation. “That’s so wild. And kind of weird. Like who hangs out in a department store to know it just like an employee?”

“How am I supposed to know?” you reply.

“Is he cute at least?”

“God, he is so fucking cute,” you sigh. “Like unfairly cute and I really hate it.”

“I mean…I don’t think he would be opposed to you maybe…asking him out.”

“How about I don’t do that?”

“Oh, please, like you would be opposed to it. Besides, he seems nice enough and he’s cute. I know you don’t always feel the most comfortable putting yourself out there and this seems like a good situation to be in.”

“I know, I guess I just feel kind of weird about it. The whole thing is kind of weird if I’m being completely honest,” you reply.

“Maybe it doesn’t have to be a date. The two of you can just hang out and get a better feel for each other. Over dinner or something,” Hannah suggests.

“That sounds like a date,” you comment, laughing a little.

“Not if there isn’t any romantic intention behind it. So, if you think it sounds like a date, then I’m guessing you want it to be a date.”

“You’re literally the worst, Hannah.”

“I won’t be the worst if this works out and I’m calling dibs on being your Maid of Honor at the wedding.”

“Seriously?” you exclaim.

She just laughs. “Just let yourself think about it, but don’t leave the boy hanging too long, okay?”

“I guess it wouldn’t be a hardship.”

After you hang up with Hannah, you genuinely think about it. You don’t know much about Tyson, but having an extremely cute guy seemingly not care that much about your size was more than encouraging. Having that be out of the way…well, it wouldn’t hurt. But you want to ask him in person to get a better feel for the situation. Hell, you’ve only met Tyson once, so another excuse to hang out would be nice.

Sorry for ignoring you. I just had to process it, I guess. Kind of a weird situation tbh, you text.

Tyson replies almost right away. No, I get it. It is weird.

I was wondering if maybe you would want to get coffee sometime? If that’s not weird?

You stole my line :(

lol I’m sorry

but seriously

you wanna get coffee sometime?

yeah!! I know this really great café that’s close by

when are you free?

I mean any time this weekend really. or any time leading up to the holidays lol

Not visiting family?

Nah, too expensive

Understandable

But this weekend should be good!!

Can we meet Saturday some time? Maybe like 2pm?

Okay! I’ll text you the address

~ ~ ~

Saturday finally rolls around and you’re freaking out. You’ve called Hannah to try and figure out what you want to wear.

“It’s just a café, right? Just go with your nice jeans that make your butt look good and one of your sweaters. Granted, you’re going to be stuck with ugly winter boots no matter what, might as well look cute where you can,” Hannah says. “And you got some new makeup, right? Have some fun with that, too.”

“I guess,” you reply, forlornly. “I feel like I’m just overthinking this.”

“Babe, you have to remember that he helped you when he clearly didn’t have to. And he did fucking amazing, if I say so myself. Plus, it’s just super casual today. If you want to leave, you can at any point.”

“You’re right,” you whisper. “God, I should probably go, I have to meet him in like 30 minutes.”

“It’s not going to take you 30 minutes to get there.”

“You know I can’t be late, Hannah.”

Hannah just laughs. “Yeah, I know. Go get your boy.”

You hang up and grab your purse, mentally making sure that you have anything. When you get out of your apartment, you decide to drive, as the roads don’t seem to bad today. Like Hannah said, it definitely didn’t take you thirty minutes to get to the café, but you can’t help but to be way too early to things.

Apparently, Tyson seems to be in the same boat as you, as he’s already grabbed the two of you a table. He smiles brightly when he sees you walk in and walks over to you.

“Hey, y/n, I’m glad you made it!” Tyson greets, happily.

“I’m not a person to bail out on plans they made,” you reply, smiling brightly at his enthusiasm.

“I haven’t ordered yet, so uh,” Tyson replies, slightly hesitant.

You nod and walk over to line with him. The two of you are silent, but he stands close to you. Tyson insists on paying for your coffee and you let him, without much of a fight. When the two of you sit back down with your coffee, you can tell that he seems hesitant.

“You okay, Tyson?” you ask.

“Um, yeah, I guess I was just kind of nervous for today.”

You raise an eyebrow. “For real?”

“Yeah, I just realize what I did was kind of weird and I honestly feel so bad about it,” Tyson explains.

“Okay, I have to admit that it’s was kind of weird, but it’s less weird since you and Nate seem to be good friends? But you did a really good job and I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve helped other people like this.”

“Oh, uh, you were the first person that I did this for? And I just thought that you were really pretty and I wasn’t sure how else to talk to you,” Tyson says, blushing a little.

“You know, you could have just come up and talked to me. That would have worked, too.”

Tyson sighs. “God, this is so fucking weird and I’m sorry.”

“Tyson, you can stop apologizing. It’s okay and I think we’re on a pretty decent date right now.”

You immediately blush when you realized what you said.

“You stole my line again,” Tyson pouts.

“I’m sorry, but also you should probably use your lines sooner if you don’t want me to steal them,” you laugh.

He smiles brightly again. “So, tell me more about your dinner.”

~ ~ ~

You and Tyson settle into a relationship fairly easy. The two of you bring out the best in each other. Granted, it’s not always the easiest dating a professional hockey player, but Tyson does the best he can to make up for the time he’s gone.

It’s after he’s been on a week-long road trip when he decides that he wants to take you out on a nice date. He insists on having you wear the tux that he picked out for you months ago now. The place he takes you is nice, but not nice enough to make you feel out of place.

“Tonight was wonderful,” you whisper.

He smiles. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. Come back to mine?”

“Yeah, I think I can do that,” you reply.

The second you get back to his apartment, you change into sweats and an old t-shirt. Lord knows you don’t want to hang out in it any longer than you have to. It’s comfy for formal wear, but it’s still formal wear.

Tyson settles into the couch, also having changed. He flips on the TV to some random channel and pulls you in close to him. You cuddle up close, enjoying his warmth and the closeness. Not too much time passes before Tyson kisses you softly on your neck. You know him well enough to know that tonight won’t go beyond trading kisses, but it’s still nice.

You turn your head and kiss him back just as softly. Tyson smiles into the kiss and pulls you closer. The two of you sit like that for the rest of the night until you yawn into one of the kisses.

“I think it’s time for bed,” he mumbles. “Can you stay here tonight?”

“Yeah, I can stay here tonight.”

He practically drags you to bed and drags you in to cuddle with you. You know that he loves to cuddle with you any chance that he gets, so you let him pull you in close. Nights like tonight, you know how lucky you are to have found someone like Tyson. Falling asleep that night was one of the easiest things that you’ve ever done.

#tyson barrie #Colorado Avalanche #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #hockeynetwork #mine

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chrysaliseuro2019 · 5 years ago

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Cliffhanger

Dimitsana has been a wonderful base to explore from and it would be so picturesque in winter when the snow season sets in up in them there hills. Mind you you’d want to have a mighty fine travel insurance policy because its worn marble steps are lethally slippery when dry let alone with snow and ice to add to their treachery.

Our accommodation was truly fabulous with the most gloriously comfy wide bed, luxurious pillows of varying structure (good for we of the dodgy neck brigade) complete with a fireplace for those colder months and a spacious and modern bathroom - don’t get to say that too often in Europe. On top of that the room had a number of books and masses of DVDs of good taste. No Rambo or Diehard here instead quality such as The Lives of Others etc. Clearly our host Dimitri was of sophisticated taste, and judging by the breakfasts his wife prepared, so was she.

Dimitri insisted the Outdoor Water Museum was a must visit before we left the area so that was our next stop. Staff almost outnumbered visitors as there were three of them and in the 1.5 hours we were there only one other couple arrived. Don’t think I’m being too harsh in saying that they could have cut the staff by 2/3rds and still have managed the ticket box (4 tickets in 1.5 hours) and turning on the switches of two machines without being over-taxed. Will be checking Seek for a job like this when I get back home.

We thought the displays were well laid out and enjoyed learning that millers made a living by milling customers grains and rather than charging a fee took a percentage of the milled grain. Too bad if you’re celiac, but I guess corn was an alternative. The tannery was definitely the worst of the jobs. The tanner’s hands must have been tough as old boots to deal with processes including salting, stripping, soaking the pelts in wood chips, and Chris’ least favourite, dunking the pelts in a blend of dog shit and water. Can only, and quite frankly, don’t want to imagine the smell. When we visited the still-alive-and-well tanneries of Fez several years ago we were told they used pigeon droppings. If I were a Greek tanner I’d have invested in a dovecote.

The final exhibit was the gunpowder exhibit. Dimitsana was one of the villages that knew how to collect saltpetre, a vital component gunpowder and they made gunpowder from the Greek War of Independence (1820’s-30’s) until early 20th century. Water was used to power the machines that mixed all the ingredients of gunpowder into a powder - OH&S was a bit of an issue because the powder if not treated correctly during processing had the tendency to to what it was intended to do....blow up.

The museum should be applauded for the effort that had gone into making it accessible for tourists. Not only did it supply a detailed brochure with map in the €4 entrance fee, there was a huge amount of written detail around the displays and, in case that wasn’t enough, 3 lengthy videos describing how water was used in milling, tanning and making gunpowder. No other Greek Museum has had so much information including the big ticket items like Olympia and the Acropolis. Well done little provincial Outdoor Water Museum of Dimitsana.

Still high amongst the mountains we made our way to our next destination around the challenging roads. Challenging not only because they were narrow and winding but the surface could switch from brand new to rutted and potholed in an instant. And to top it all off a steep drop down into the valley without barriers on one side and a sheer cliff face that occasionally shed its rocks across the road on the other. (I think we both occasionally let our minds drift to the possibility of being squashed or plummeting.) Apart from that it was a doddle! Chris did very well negotiating the hazards although a couple of times did go a little too close to the edge where I could peer over into the abyss as I gripped white-knuckled onto the door...Penny if you’re reading this you’ll get my drift.

On the winding drive down to the monastery car park we passed an isolated tower with Greek music playing and a solitary car parked beside it. We could only surmise it was the manned fire lookout. A little incongruously the lookout was a wooden construction and there appeared to be no Wifi according to our phones. We wondered what would happen if there was a bushfire. Does the warden hotfoot it from his out-of-range combustible tower to the local town to send the alarm? Meanwhile as he minds his post it would be a hot lonely job as there also appeared to be no air conditioning. Suggest Fire warden consider a career change to a much cushier position at the Water Museum.

Stopped at the car park to visit the Prodromou Monastery reportedly a 20 minute walk away. By now it was 12.40pm and we had just spotted the bane of the tourist’s life - a sign saying’ ‘Closed between 1pm -3pm’. A Dutch couple pulled up so discussed the inconvenience of this and set off at fast pace, well as fast as old knees going down rocky and shale paths and steps will allow. Fortunately the walk was only roughly 10 minutes through a verdant forest so got there in time being totally awestruck by the monastery. How this Monastery of St John the Baptist was constructed into a sheer cliff face is mind blowing. The original site dates back to 16th century and was used as a hospital during the Greek War of Independence and was rebuilt in 1976 over the remains of an old hermitage. Surrounding the monastery are large forested mountains and down below is the Lousios Gorge with the Lousios River flowing through it. It’s truly a picturesque scene.

Having donned our modesty wraps to hide our shorts we were allowed to enter the monastery. Up the stairs into a small vestibule chapel carved into the rock with the bare rock face exposed. A kitchen and a sitting room were off this vestibule and that was the complete floor. Up some steps to the chapel proper, a small dark room with paintings on the rock walls, about 10 seats lining the walls and a little altar. Then further steps up to the balcony off which were the monks’ rooms. One door was open showing just how spartan a monk’s life can be. The room contained 6 basic beds, no feathertop mattresses here, each with a bundle of basic blankets folded at the foot. Absent were bedside tables and lamps, chairs, desks, wardrobes or any form of creature comfort beyond a bed. Even more basic than some of our dodgy holiday hotels.

The verandah was an old creaky affair that ran the length of the monastery suspended out from the rocks and supported by a rustic wooden structure beneath. We felt it prudent to tread lightly! The only ornamental relief there were some church bells, a wooden gong and mallet which by the look of the gong were there for function not appearance and three further oblong metal gongs of graduated sizes.

Back down to the vestibule level where the priest made visitors (and there were only 6 of us during the time we were there) coffee and provided biscuits, water, and most incongruously, Turkish Delight.

After about half an hour, so 20 minutes into “closed time” we headed off, grateful for the priest’s kindness and leniency.

Huffed and puffed our way back up through the forest path, took some more photos of the lovely surrounds. Had also heard of a town nearby worth looking at so went in search. Followed yet more bendy roads (warning: motion sickness sufferers do not come)to a small but full carpark. Many minutes passed faffing about where to park along the road, ‘Here?’ ‘Yes that’ll do, other cars can pass.’ Then ‘No, think we’ll park there.’ ‘OK then.’ ‘No maybe not. Let me just go there’ followed by a reversal without taking the bend of the road and getting eye bulgingly close a small dip off the road that the little Micra would have trouble getting back up again (nothing to do with the navigator this time). Stopped in the nick of time which coincided with a minivan on tour studying Ancient Greek about to head off from the carpark. Chris waited for the stragglers to pile back in the bus and meanwhile the tour leader advised the town not worth a visit. We took him at his word. Instead went down to the fast flowing Lousios river where a few people were picnicking for the day. Would have been a beautiful place for rafting and swimming but getting the bathers out for a 10 minute swim for one (me) too much fuss. Instead filled my water bottle with fresh cool water and we headed off towards Mystras.

Stopped off for lunch of yet another Greek Salad -perfect lunch fare - under a terrace in a pretty stone village then 1.5 hours more of mountain roads which eventually flattened out a bit to olive tree and orange tree country

I’d had a Mystras accommodation suggestion from Teresa the lady I’d fortuitously met in Melbourne who runs Peloponnese tours. As we approached Mystras we passed it and luckily it had a vacancy. Quirky and large room with magnificent view over the valley and to the mountains beyond. Dinner was at a restaurant Chris had seen recommend in Lonely Planet. 250 metres up a steep hill and rewarded by a seat on the terrace overlooking the mountains and the ruins of Mystras not far away. Dinner was ok, not quite as fabulous as its reviews intimated. Also hindered by no vodka and tonic, rosé that was like engine oil, my first menu preference not available and lots of dishes with creamy sauce that Chris can’t handle. Still the setting was first class and we didn’t go home hungry.

As usual when time came to settle, mine host requested cash declaring his card machine wasn’t working today. I can bet my bottom Euro it wasn’t working yesterday and it won’t be working tomorrow either. This ruse was delivered in hushed tones to each table but it’s the way of things nearly everywhere in Greece. So then we played a game of bluff. I said I wasn’t sure we had enough cash so he double-bluffed me saying we could leave without paying and transfer the cash to his account later. Would like to have taken him up on this to see if he would seriously let two strangers leave on an eat-now-pay-later basis. I think the machine might have sprung into action if all diners took this stance. But I miraculously ‘found’ a €50 note and paid. After all it’s endemic through Greece and one tourist’s obstinate moral stance will change nothing.

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chimchimssenpai-blog · 6 years ago

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Step by step instructions to Purchase An Exquisite Engagement Ring On the web

Getting drew in is maybe one of the scariest moves a man (and yes a lady as well) would ever make. So I have assembled this Engagement Rings Perth manual for help you locate that extraordinary ring that your young lady will love - while abandoning you fulfilled that you have not over-spent.

What's more, regardless of whether your fiancee will pick her very own ring, you'd need to advise her to peruse this data also. Be that as it may, more than likely, you'd purchase your "unique woman" a precious stone engagement ring. Since:

Precious stones Are A Young lady's Closest Companion

Right. Precious stones are 99.95% unadulterated solidified carbon and is as old as soil - between 1-3 billion years of age. Actually, they are the hardest normally occurring substance known and are framed in the world's upper mantle under warmth and weight and conveyed to the world's surface by profound volcanic ejections.

They are later mined from layers of rock found in only a couple of locales around the globe. At that point they are transported to the different slicing focuses to be cut, cleaned and set as gems. Their splendor, shimmer and durability make them well looked for after.

In any case, they can be expensive as well. Different sources quote midpoints costs somewhere in the range of $3500 - $5000. "Ouch" you say. All things considered, I can give you the name of:

The "Virtuoso" That Began The Precious stone Engagement Ring Thought

Be that as it may, he has since quite a while ago passed so you'll need to return your weapon in your holster. The primary very much archived instance of giving an engagement jewel ring happened in 1477.

This was the point at which a lovestruck Austrian, Archduke Maximilian, put a jewel ring on the third finger of the left hand of Mary of Burgundy in his pre-wedding assurance to her. That finger was accepted by antiquated Egyptians to have a vein that drives directly to a lady's heart.

In the Unified States, it was not until the point when the 30′s that giving precious stone rings for engagements ended up average. Presently about 80% of ladies drew in are offered precious stone rings.

As this will be a most imperative buy - representative of your affection and the significance of your relationship, observing the accompanying variables should place you in great stead.

The fifth C And Thinking of A Financial plan

Any great engagement rings guide will make reference to the 4 C's as they are key to making a buy for a precious stone ring. The 4 C's are sketched out in more prominent detail underneath however it is the "fifth C" - cost, that excites the best measure of interest and maybe fear.

You may have heard the "standard way of thinking" that asserts that you have to spare somewhere around three months compensation to buy a precious stone ring. This "counsel" may have originated from the De Brews' exposure machine; Debeers being predominant power in each part of the precious stone industry. So accept this exhortation with a grain of salt.

A greatly improved methodology is to set your financial plan dependent on the amount you can practically manage. What's more, you are likely the best individual who can concoct that number.

Likewise your spending should think about the characteristics of the ring that are the most critical to you. With the wide exhibit of precious stone rings accessible, you can spend less and still get a decent ring or you can spend much more on size and quality.

There are some exceptionally believed spots where you can purchase engagement rings online while remaining inside your financial plan. These spots offer a 100% unconditional promise should you not be happy with your financial plan.

A trustworthy online precious stone retailer would likewise guarantee that their jewels don't begin from struggle nations nor different sources with connections to criminal or psychological oppressor exercises.

Whichever source you purchase from, oppose the impulse to go over your financial plan particularly if cash is tight. A businessperson may urge you to spend past your financial plan since precious stones perhaps speak to a sound speculation.

However, a retailer can altogether increase the estimation of a precious stone and not long after you purchase that ring, it could lose a considerable measure of it esteem. Furthermore, more terrible, it could take a long time for that incentive to return. So remain consistent with your financial plan as much as you can.

Know Her Size and What She Prefers

How frequently have I told my sweetheart that I am not a mind peruser? Ladies regularly anticipate that men will know precisely what they need particularly if those men have been in an involved acquaintance with them.

Try not to accept that you know everything about your woman. Discovering what sort of jewel engagement ring your exceptional woman adores can be precarious in the event that you need to keep your fast approaching proposition secretive.

So before you start shopping you ought to

* Concentrate her style of gems. Is it true that she is more into customary or sentimental gems? Does she cherish showy or more unobtrusive gems?

Likewise focus on the metal and shade of the gems she wears.

Likewise get a second assessment. Ask her dear companions or even family for guidance on the style of adornments she loves.

* Decide her ring size by furtively "acquiring" one of her rings and comparing it to a size outline or demonstrating it to a gem dealer. Ensure the ring you "acquire" is the one she wears on the proposed finger.

You could likewise enroll the assistance of a companion or relative who could coolly attempt on one of her rings and find out its size. On the off chance that you are not happy with any of these 007-like moves, basically attempt on one of her rings and bring it down the extent that it can easily go.

You can stamp that line and show it to a gem dealer who should then have the capacity to estimate it from that point. When in doubt and you are not still beyond any doubt about her ring size - pick a ring that is on the greater side. It is significantly better to diminish the span of a ring than it is to "scrutinize it.

The 4 C's Of A Precious stone Buy

No engagement rings control is finished without a talk of the "Four C's" - cut, shading, clearness and carat. The 4 C's are a noteworthy piece of value setting and will be incorporated into a jewel evaluating report.

Albeit the majority of the 4 C's ought to be considered similarly, gemologists will disclose to you that "cut" is the most basic in light of the fact that there are such huge numbers of factors included.

Precious stone Cut: As you'll see, this is the main "C" that isn't impacted by the unstoppable force of life. "Cut" alludes to the geometric extents, symmetry and clean of jewel - not its shape. These components decide a precious stone's fire, brightness and shine.

At the point when light enters an inadequately cut jewel, a large portion of the light will get lost through the sides instead of reflecting back up the best. The previous gives the precious stone a dull, dormant look.

Know that there are medicines that can be completed to a precious stone that can enhance its shading or absolutely change it to an extravagant shading.

Precious stone Shading: Apparently the second most vital "C", goldsmiths normally review shading on a 23 letter set scale - "D" - "Z". "D" is the whitest shading and "Z" is a light yellow shading.

You may feel that a more white shading would constantly mean a more costly precious stone. Be that as it may, this isn't really the situation as irregularity is the thing that decides cost.

There are precious stones called "likes" which have solid hues, (for example, blue and red) and are exceptionally uncommon and expensive. A few likes are estimated out of the scope of a great many people as they cost in the a huge number of dollars.

Jewel Clearness: Precious stones normally have interior and outer flaws called considerations or nature's unique finger impression. These are frequently imperceptible to the exposed eye however can be seen under a gem specialist's magnifying instrument (loupe).

Less considerations implies more noteworthy clearness and a cleaner, more costly precious stone. Pearl quality jewels, that is those with practically no inside considerations are reviewed "FL" for impeccable. These precious stones are uncommon and costly.

Precious stone Carat Weight: The heaviness of a jewel is estimated in carats. This isn't to be mistaken for "karat" which is the manner by which the immaculateness of gold is portrayed.

Nor should you confound the heaviness of a precious stone with its size. 1 carat measures up to 0.2 grams or 100. Numerous individuals know about "carat" as it is a term that is continually drifting near. Carat weight is entirely direct as it is institutionalized and can be precisely decided with a precious stone carat weight scale. The more a precious stone gauges - the more it costs.

The sixth C - Accreditation

Here is another "C" for you - "accreditation". I consider this the sixth "C." alright - I swear - no more "Cs" in this engagement rings direct.

"Accreditation" is really a jewel reviewing report which gives an expert gemological evaluation of the 4Cs.

You should just believe precious stone evaluating reports from strong confided in labs, for example, the Gemological Organization of America (GIA), American Pearl Society (AGS) and the Diamond Confirmation and Affirmation Lab (GCAL).

Notwithstanding the huge 3 precious stone graders over, some online retailers, Amazon for instance, incorporate endorsements from Worldwide Gemological Foundation (IGI).

Remember that precious stone reviewing reports don't offer examinations of jewels. Examinations notice esteem. So in the event that somebody demonstrates to you an evaluating report with a sum professing to be a market estimation of the precious stone - you realize something isn't right.

Purchasing Precious stones On the web

During a time where a half eaten flame broiled cheddar sandwich and a lady's turn in marriage are sold on the web, it appears there is nothing you can't purchase on the web. Wherever you mean on purchasing a precious stone, trust in the seller should be an issue and obviously you have to practice good judgment.

#engagement rings

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buri-art · 6 years ago

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Wuqiao Acrobatics World

A few years ago while trying to keep my Mandarin skills in tact, I saw a short documentary about Wuqiao, Hebei Province, said to be the birthplace of Chinese acrobatics, and where all the villagers can at least do some acrobatics (I treat that saying with a big grain of salt, but phrases like this do have some impact on local identity). For my last six-day backpacking trip in China, I planned it around going to Wuqiao for a day trip and seeing this circus-y place myself.

I’ll start out by saying that if you don’t speak Chinese or feel very comfortable getting around in a place that speaks no English, I wholeheartedly recommend going with a tour group from Beijing or Tianjin if you want to go here yourself. The venue is designed for groups with coordinated performance times and dependable transportation. I found this out through trial and error and missed a few morning performances that way. Sniffle!

Anyway, if you search “Wuqiao” in English most of the results will be the same short article on multiple websites and several tours designed for foreign travelers from Beijing, so while I don’t have a specific recommendation, I can say that Chinese tour guides will vary a lot and as long as you have a small group, you’ll have an easier time getting a good guide who will be flexible to your interests. So now onto my June 19, 2018 experience!

Sometimes when people talk smack about tour groups, they say it’s because they want to the see the “real” things, not touristy things. I see where this comment is coming from; sometimes a superficial run-around of a handful of packed locations that the locals never go to and then hours spent being shoved into gift shops is going to make it feel like you learned nothing in a foreign country except for the stresses of international travel. However, as someone who has worked in foreign tourism before, I want to point out a couple things: 1. If you have a good guide, you’re going to get a far more awesome experience than you might have been able to plan on your own. You’re not lame for enjoying the good (and often amazing) services of a tour operator who cares about giving you a good time. 2. In China, you’re getting something “real” anyway. That was one of my biggest impressions of this very dilapidated tourist venue.

“This is so China,” I thought.

To boil the past several decades of Chinese economic history down simply, China has lifted millions of people from starving to having disposable income (it can’t be understated how large of a feat this has been, though poverty is still a significant issue). When a population goes from “most people are so poor that everyone stays put” to “whoa, we have... money?? Um... let’s do fun stuff! Let’s go places!!”, this is what gives birth to the development of domestic tourism. And China, as you might guess, is chock full of amazing landscapes and historical locations.

China got this great idea: Now that people are making money, let’s make them spend money, so we can make more money!

China, more so than any other place I’ve been, will find any way it can to monetize a tourism destination. Is there a cool rock? Put a fence around it to obstruct the view, make people pay to see it. Is the lake too big to put a fence around it? Have Zhang Yimou make an “Impression” show there and have people pay to see that! Too big of an area to charge admission at each spot? Block off the whole area and add some nifty transportation options inside. No possible way to block it off because the historic area is in actual daily use? Call in the vendors, kids, we’re still going to make something off of this!

Yes, I’ve been to places with free admission, and often I only stopped in because they were free admission. And I rather liked a lot of those free places, yes. But in general, if you’re traveling to see something, you’re going to pay to see it, even if it means paying admission to even get closer to a village.

But that means building stuff to justify it being something to see and spend money on. That means, with extra money suddenly available to you and/or pressure from above to make something snazzy and brag-worthy really fast, you build a lot of things. Domestic tourists have come to expect big fancy stuff, and construction makes this world (or at least this country) go round!

And then you do the press reports. Take some good pictures. Have people make a cool documentary. Welcome the tour groups, stay busy while the place is shiny.

And then let it fall into disrepair.

There are many tourism facilities in China which are really, really nice, and kept that way. But there are also not only tourism projects finished and then abandoned, or slowed indefinitely partway. This is pretty “real.” It’s not just tourism; this is very “real” for a lot of China’s rapid economic development and construction projects, even entire new cities that they couldn’t get anyone to move into.

So yes, by coming to Wuqiao Acrobatic World, you’re getting a very real experience of what modern day China is like, especially outside of the biggest cities or especially famous tourism facilities.

But you know what makes that awesome? The people here were so much fun to interact with.

Before leaving on my trip, I told some Chinese friends and coworkers where I was going, and they had never heard of Wuqiao. When I told them about it, some reacted in horror that I’m interested in acrobatics. “But it’s so sad,” one friend said. “The kids go through so much pain to train like that.”

Yes, the performance arts and competitive sports worlds of China have a long and ongoing history of this. But I also really, really like watching circuses. If someone loves their art and works hard at it, then I want to watch them, I want to be impressed by them, I want to reward that hard work by giving it my attention. I’ve had some fun experiences in the past with helping backstage when grassroots level diplomatic groups of performers went to my college in the US or in the city I worked for in Japan, and I’ll never forget how spirited those Chinese contortionists were, and how easy they made being bendy look.

So anyway. In all this preamble I haven’t even gotten to my travels yet. I took a morning train in from Tianjin and with only some little red tuk-tuk like cars with three wheels available for transportation, I went with a guy who gave me a ride for 5 RMB (about 77 US cents). He was a nice old guy who also picked me up later right on time for my return that afternoon. But, uh, one of the doors of the little vehicle wouldn’t close.

It’s a short ride, but not really walking distance, especially if you only have about six hours to spend there. The town is still mostly farming community, on the platform of the train station you can watch people take care of sheep and stack up dry reeds. The town is hot and dry in summer with smooth traffic, wide roads, and no tall buildings. I arrived at the Acrobatics World on a weekday morning with no line to get tickets and enter.

There were a few scattered people who stared and whispered (loudly), “Whoa, it’s a foreigner,” a phrase that after a while either bounces off of you completely or piles up on you so much that by the end of a trip off the beaten path you think your trapezius will snap if you hear it again. I found buildings under construction and a temple, and because many tourism facilities have temples built into them, I assumed I’d politely go straight through it. Not so! Turns out you go around this one, which I would have had no idea about had a woman not approached me and told me so.

So, with no one in sight (an odd sight in and of itself at a tourism facility in China), I went hunting for the acrobats.

I hunted a long time, saw a few people here and there. Passed a few people making noise in what looked like a wuxia version of a renaissance festival fairground, but according to the maps, I decided to press northward, looking for, well, whatever it was I was looking for, or at least trying to figure out what all was there.

Well, like, nobody, basically. A few people here and there, but mostly some lonely statues in various groupings around a wide park, some architectural pieces ignored and serving no purpose, some poorly kept animals (I chose not to check out the “Funny Zoo” area), but mostly big expanses of nobody. After living in a place like Shanghai for a while--a place unkind to introverts--you come to really appreciate those periods of nobodyness, and walking around this place had the same sort of bizarre allure of photos of abandoned, flooded shopping malls.

This would be such a great spot for hanfu photoshoots with nobody in your way! But I’d need someone to take the photos, something to wear in the photos, and a much better hair day than I was having on that whole trip.

Anyway, based on the size of the building, I had assumed that I reached the “main spot” I was aiming for, whatever that was.

This was a combination of performance space and museum, so I started at the museum. When I approached there were a couple women hanging out on the red queuing gates, not quite doing acrobatics, but not keeping their feet on the ground either. They were surprised to see me, and I asked if I could go in, and they were like, “um... okay,” and turned the lights on inside. I asked if I could take pictures, and they said yes. While enjoying myself in the first room of the winding exhibits, I heard them talking to each other and saying, “She asked if she could go in. Then she asked if she could take photos.” What I wish I would have overheard them saying would have been something like, “What the hell is she doing over here, doesn’t she know that the only action taking place in this whole facility is going on as scheduled over in the Jianghu Culture City ren-faire-ish-place?” But I heard no such thing, and enjoyed the museum in ignorance.

As far as Chinese museums are concerned, they’re a very mixed bag, but I rather liked the contents of this simple, small one. Everything had good English translations--and by that I don’t mean clear and grammatical, but actually useful content that puts what you’re seeing into context. Here are a few bits I liked:

Not all of the rooms were as interesting as others; and although I have a passing interest in how Chinese circus is used diplomatically, I didn’t have enough of one to stay in those exhibits for long. I was starting to get the sense that I was missing out on the performances. If I felt less rushed and was there with friends, however, I probably would have had a great time in this room, with this corner of traditional circus props, easily in arms’ reach and not mounted in place.

Nothing said not to play with them, but nothing said that it was okay to touch them either. I decided to err on the side of doubt. After all, assuming such things in the past had lead me to get bitten by a penguin.

Back to acrobats, I zoomed through the very empty painting and gift shop (if it can even be called that) rooms, where the people working there did not even look up from their phones. After that I found where they keep the horses (poor, skinny horses... let’s not even get to those bored, chained monkeys I saw later with nothing and nobody around to prevent a wandering tourist from walking right up to them--I imagine that could have been more disastrous than my encounter with the penguin). Then I found--what?? People??? What’s more, it was like a group of moms and a couple little kids watching some teens in capes on a round stage, the Red Peony stage. I asked if I could watch, and finally, these people told me what I wish someone would had told me in the first place:

All the performances are scheduled in different locations. The Jianghu Culture City has the morning and late afternoon performances, and the northern buildings and horse track have the early afternoon shows. Ohhhhhh, no wonder.

So I hurried over to where all the smart tourists and their group guides were; watching this guy.

I only caught the tail end of his act, and from the looks of the stage he must had been smashing bricks with his face or something earlier, who knows. He climbed down the handles of the swords at the end of his act, but if I had gotten there earlier, I assume I would have seen something like this:

Hmm. Not super sharp at tourist-reach, but still, ouch.

Immediately after that everyone shuffled over to this tent for some other folk acrobatics by a little troupe: Some lovely ladies young and not-as-young, some burly men, a dwarf, and a guy from the audience picked out for the knife-throwing show who had the build, expression, and haircut of a circus performer himself. He was at the other shows that day too, so I don’t suspect he was a plant. Chinese men just have some weird haircuts, that’s all.

Couldn’t really get good pictures in there, but you had a girl sitting on a chair balanced on a swinging trapeze, a routine with blocks complete with juggling and handstands and flips, the aforementioned knife-thrower who doubled as the clown of the show, a jar juggler who catches the big jar on his head and neck, a jar juggler who spins a much, much, much, much larger iron jar on her feet that three burly men needed to lift together, and this lady doing what you see here:

A note here about those tour groups---they were overwhelmingly made up of middle age men. I did see a few families with small children, some younger couples, and a fair number of women mixed with the men, but the groups of men who all knew each other was striking. Maybe I just happened to go on a day when they were planning big outings, who knows.

After that, there was a very, very small “performance” in this little back-alley area of the Jianghu Culture City, where there were many performance areas with signs stating the folk artist and their performing times, but with seating areas filled with, well, seats that they had probably pulled out of other areas and had not yet taken to the dump.

That said, some of the area felt downright homey. I was the only person over there at first when a lady was about to do her sales pitch--I mean, “performance” explaining that they were selling fans decorated with the origins of the 100 most common Chinese surnames. Many of the men bought them for 30 RMB each ($4.61 USD). I got one for my roommate since her surname is rather uncommon, she hadn’t seen something like that before and found it interesting.

Anyway, the lady there was very friendly, and insisted I put my heavy backpack down on her chair so I could relax while looking around (she also insisted I leave it there while enjoying my afternoon, but I declined). She would have been the right person to meet right away when I got to the park, she explained the whole schedule of the park (which I had mostly figured out by then) and helped me to plan how to make the best of my time left that afternoon, and she walked with me part way to the only place to get food in the whole area. She was on her way home for lunch, she said. Everyone working there is local and all the performers go home for lunch, except the director, who often has to show VIP guests around. Since she was so cheerfully talking about the place and clearly took pride in this being their local claim to fame (I got that sense from a few other people too), I considered asking if it was true that everyone could do at least a little acrobatics. I decided against asking, but kind of wish I had.

If you do ever get there and want to make sure you get to the see every performance offered from the moment the park opens, you do have the option of staying at the Red Peony Hotel! This is really your only option for food anyway. The staff was very friendly (and not overly friendly, so I could thankfully eat my meal in peace!), though I can’t say the food or ambiance was anything special, even for a tourist facility.

The fish sauce tasted like ketchup.

It was a really long lunch break. I imagine that’s when wiser people would have walked around the odd groupings of statues and architecture of questionable purpose in the park, or gone to the museum to play with hula hoops and throw ceramic jars at each other. I went out to the empty horse track to reapply sunscreen, smell the nature, listen to birds, and gaze into the lotus pond. And frown at how skinny the horses were.

The Red Peony theater opened at 1:30pm. There was a very small line; I was one of the first people there and got a good seat in a round theater that looked like it could hold up to 200 audience members. People continued to trickle in for 25 minutes. They were starting late that day, they said, blaming it on either having VIP tour groups who take their time or having foreign performers who take their time. For twenty minutes they played a Backstreet Boys song on repeat, and I looked at the apparatuses around the stage--a small Russian swing, three aerial hoops of different sizes, a couple silks, a triple-wheeled Wheel of Death (does it have a different name when three people are cheating death?) behind a curtain, a large net hung up out of the way, and some set pieces that looked like a wooden ship set to either side of the stage. After twenty minutes of Backstreet Boys they played the entirety of Hotel California before starting the show.

They had signs forbidding photography and Yours Truly is a rule-follower even in China where these silly rules about video recording are flat-out ignored even at Cirque du Soleil performances, so I doodled the show on the train a few hours later.

This was no Cirque du Soleil, let’s be clear about that. It was more like the community theater version of a Broadway show; everyone was doing their best but items were unintentionally dropped and costume pieces flew off, but everyone was encouraging because the kids were doing their best.

Let’s look back at a few parts of that sentence: 1. Encouraging audience: Chinese audiences can be extremely frustrating to perform in front of, because they are so likely to chat among themselves or play on their phones--I charitably chalk this up to a cultural difference that historically elevates the pleasure of the audience over the hard work of performers, but it still drives me crazy in my current job that involves training kids to do things in front of audiences. That said, this works in another way--when a Chinese audience is engaged, they’ll be very, very engaged, and even if these performers were dropping their stuff, they still kept the audience’s attention and smiles and applause, so it’s all good.

2. Their best: Sure, they weren’t the sort of performers I’d expect to see if I paid the big ticket price to go watch the Shanghai Circus, which is primarily geared toward foreign tourists. But they are still insanely skilled and have obviously poured hours and hours and hours of their life into this. Also, very importantly, many (but not all...) of them look like they truly enjoy it. As a point of comparison, I went to the Shaolin Temple eight years ago, and the whole little town of Dengfeng surrounding it was filled with schoolyards of boys from all over China studying there to fulfill their kung fu dreams. The boys in the temple, however, are often problem children sent there for discipline. I watched the show they put on, which the adults are full-on performers for. The boys also performed amazing stunts, but the whole time looked like they were sick and tired of tourists and having to do the same flips and feats every day. It was unintentionally funny to see such bored, sour looks on their faces as they were soaring through the air. The performers in this show did see themselves as performers and acted like it--though the expressions came much more naturally to some than others.

3. Kids: Yeah, no two-ways about it, the vast majority of this cast looked very, very young. This includes both the foreign troupe and the local Chinese kids. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if none of the local performers in this show were adults. Even the stage crew looked like they were all teenagers.

My friends’ words about “aren’t you sad for them, having to do all that painful training?” rang through my head during a couple of the performances in particular. The five contortionists smiled charmingly and performed without mishap, but I was very afraid that someone was going to break in one way or another. Their bodies shook with both unbalance and strain, and sitting that close to the stage, I could read some “uh oh” in their faces at times. The rollerskating show was charming at first with the pairings of what looked like high school boys with elementary school boys, all of whom kept a gracious performer’s attitude the whole time, even with small mishaps. At the end of the act they spun the little boys around by cords on their necks (like the graceful aerial hoop duo had done in a less startling way). Despite being really impressed, my stomach churned with pity for them.

The foreign troupe had quite a mix as well of veteran and less-veteran performers, and some mishaps here and there, but overall good shows. They seemed a little casual and self-managed, like one of the kids who performed earlier in the show snuck out into the middle of the audience later to watch his buddy and then sneak backstage again. I had to wonder about them too--how long were they going to be in Wuqiao? Did they go to other places around the world too? Did they choose the circus life, or did the circus life choose them?

Before getting dragged too deep into wondering about the darker sides I know exist behind something I love watching perhaps a little bit more than the average person does, the clown came out.

The very, very, very white, platinum blonde clown.

She and the person in a polar bear suit did a charming, although not particularly funny or impressive routine, but what struck me most was how naturally she lit up being on stage, and that she might had been told in clown schools that she was “too pretty” to be a clown (something I recall hearing about happening to many young women who try to go into that). What was really captivating about this clown was that it was like she wanted more than anything to be a clown, and she looked like she was having the time of her life.

At the end of the show the performers all came out to, well, not do a final bow persay, but wave at all the tourists on their way out to go to the “Home of the Demon Hand” theater across from the Red Peony Theater. I let things clear out before standing up, and the clown saw me, locked eyes, and very smilingly said, “AMAZING!!”

Amazing to see another lone white girl there, I’m sure.

We were both on our way out in opposite directions, but we had the following conversation: Me: Where are you from? Her: Ukraine! Me (pointing to the guest performers heading backstage without her): Where are they from? Her: (wild look over her shoulder, a look back at me, a giant shrug and nervous laughter)

We waved and then went our separate ways, but I wanted to say, “Come back here, girl, give me your life story.”

Instead I went to the next show and squeezed into what I thought would give me a good view of the sleight-of-hand tricks that old’ Demon Hand was apparently famous enough for to have his own theater hall.

The 74-year-old man in a silk outfit (the top of which he later took off to prove he had nothing up his sleeve) and ponytail started the show by very, very firmly insisting on no photographs, but they had the option of getting a logo’d photograph with him before the show. A small crowd of people, mostly middle age men but a spunky younger woman too, went up and forked over their cash.

To be honest, I got really irritated for the first ten minutes or so of the show. He was a gifted performer, yes, but he was more of an improve comedian who talked a big game (his sleight of hand tricks were impressive, yes, but they made up a very, very small portion of his show). Furthermore, I couldn’t see very well around the guy in front of me, so I had to lean forward and to the sides. It was so much trash talk with men in the audience that I couldn’t follow very well (my Chinese is good, but not enough to understand all the humor), and it wasn’t very possible to stand up and leave without calling a huge amount of attention to myself.

Call attention to myself I did anyway.

As part of his goading the audience, he invites skeptics to come crowd around him and watch him closely to verify his tricks. I stayed put, not really in the mood for all the talk and just wanting to see some impressive tricks to justify my staying put. Well, he saw me, and pointed everyone’s attention in my direction, and I had to announce where I was from, and he ordered me down to his side to watch.

So I sat directly next to him and had to play along with the “I’ll show you some real Chinese kung fu!” bravado and do my best to answer any quick questions he shot at me to answer, like “how many are under the cup?”.

He made some men bet their cigarettes on a few tricks, and was accumulating a stack of cigarette boxes on the table. The number of people standing, sitting, and squatting around him dwindled. I awkwardly stayed put because I knew he’d call me out if I tried to escape, so better that I stayed there and ready to quip back the next time he quipped something at me. And yeah, I totally had a better view of the tricks and could appreciate them a lot more from the table-eye view, so it was my luck that I was the one foreign face in the room.

Toward the end of the routine he dared anyone in the rowdy audience to come sit in his chair and do the tricks themselves to make a bet. No one did.

He told me to sit in the chair.

I half-way expected that. Thankfully I can play along well as the casual “I just came here to have a good time, I don’t know what you’re making me do and I never asked for this, but okay, tell me what to do” young foreign beauty* there to make the show more interesting for the audience.

*(This is how the locals describe me, and they often insist on taking photos with me. Often without permission. Often when I am looking my worst from days of backpacking in hot weather with tired looking skin, extremely unruly hair, and practical although unflattering outfits.)

He asked me to place a bet, but I think we had some difficulty understanding each other’s Mandarin, because he’s got a thick local accent and I have a foreign one.

Him: You don’t smoke, do you? Place a bet for something else. Me: Me? Him: What do you want? Food or something? Me: ...how about something sweet? Him: Money!? Me: No, sweets... Him: No no no, we can’t do money. Come on, there’s no point if you don’t bet anything. Hmm. Tell you what. If you win, I’ll make you my ghdrtsmplwssz. Me: (His what???)

I have no clue what he said. My guess is something along the lines of either “disciple” or “bride.”

Well, the coolest part was that he had me hold one little styrofoam ball in my hand, and next thing you know, I had two of them in my hand, and that was pretty impressive, enough to make the whole show’s worth of trash talk worth the experience.

And then he had me stand up with him and he thanked me as the audience applauded, and he introduced me as his ghdrtsmplwssz, everyone clapped, and then he hugged me a few times from different angles so a couple sides of the audience could see my face. I played along with a wide-eyed “what the hell is going on, save me” look.

And then he went in for the smooch.

I can do the “pure innocent maiden who blushes at the sight of a man’s lips” routine really well. Plus, practicing martial arts makes me really fast at blocking incoming attacks like this that I have faced at a few times throughout my life, so the dramatic hand in the air, lean backwards, and turned maidenly face were all automatic rather than calculated.

We repeated this a few times, with the lean getting more comically pronounced each time. He tried to insist that this is what they do in America (like the hug), but my maidenly virtue won out in the end, and he graciously played it off and gave me the send off back to my seat in the audience. Sorry dude, I’m stubborn about kissing strangers.

After that was the horse show. I skipped it and went back to the Jianghu Culture City to catch some of the repeats of morning shows I missed.

Which was really only one. A lady saw me walking around and tried to help me plan where to be at the right time, in a helpful, non-pushy way (I am so grateful when I get this mix of helpful and non-pushy). The only other show I had time to see was Chuipotian, the suona (horn) performer. His bio introduces him well:

It was a short show with just a few audience members, including a couple women who wanted photos with me and a girl who looked around one year old who kept wandering off so her dad had to chase her while mom enjoyed the show. I found his crosstalk with the audience a lot more enjoyable than Demon Hand’s, though I had to stay on my toes to make responses here too.

As for the sound of the suona, it’s like a screaming duck. If you’ve ever seen Beijing Opera, you can probably recognize its sound. (I don’t think it’s used as much in southern opera styles. On that note, I find southern styles more melodic.) It was a fun cacophony of a show.

He mostly used smaller ones, this just makes for the funnest photo. He also included some non-instrument related tricks, like taking a lit cigarette from someone and doing tricks with the smoke, swallowing the cigarette, and pulling it out of his ear, still lit. All while reminding you that smoking is harmful to your health.

Immediately after the show, the ladies with him pulled me aside and started teaching me his catchphrase. They caught on through the crosstalk and a little conversation before the show that I’d be a good person to do a little social media routine for them, saying “(Something I could not for the life of me understand but sounded catchy), he’s the real deal from Wuqiao, CHUIPOTIAN!” After rehearsing it several times to make sure I got it right, and the woman in red holding the camera directing me to just be big and fun with it, we recorded it with me standing next to him, looking into the camera, and pointing at him. They were all very pleased with my good work and looked forward to uploading it.

They were super nice and fun to talk to (there weren’t any other immediate performances to watch while everyone else was still at the horse show), and Chuipotian gave me his business card so we could be friends on WeChat, but within ten minutes of taking my leave I dropped it. Good thing I’m not a juggler.

My friend the 5 RMB driver with the one functional door met me right at the appointed time, and people chilling at the train station were also very aware of me. They were a great mix of kind and looking out for me, but not all up in my business. I appreciate it greatly.

And then I left on a crowded, cheapest-seat car of a train that would take over three hours to reach Tianjin. I had enjoyed the day and all the people I got to interact with the (even old Demon Hand, I guess), but being an introvert, I was grateful to have the chance to chill and make the above doodles in my notebook.

But then people figured out I understand Chinese and started chatting with me.

For three straight hours.

To be honest, it’s been a while since I’ve been in the position to play a vehicle of foreign exchange for hours and hours at a time, and it can be fun, but it’s such a relief when you can rest.

And rest I did, on the night train I switched to in Tianjin to get to my next stop on the trip. I slept pretty well for it being on the cheapest berths, stacked three-high with little more than the average Chinese man’s body width. After maneuvering on the top berth with my heavy backpack, I felt like a pretty good circus performer myself.

#China #circus

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shoottomiss · 7 years ago

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Kim Possible Respect

Because I’ve been on a bit of a Kim Possible stint recently, I wanted to compile a post of things that the “girl who can do anything” has done, and why she may very well be one of the greatest, if not the greatest, cartoon heroines of all time. Much of this is taken from a respect thread from Skullanders on ComicVine, so thanks to him.

Like, disregarding cartoon physics or logic. We’re just here to appreciate how cool she is. Ready? It’s a bit long, but most of the feats have a gif or clip linked within them. We good? Okay, let’s go!

Intelligence: May not be as smart as her parents or brothers, but still quite intelligent.

-Aced an algebra test after cramming all studying on a dangerous riverboat ride in the Congo

-Flew a spacecraft back to earth after seeing a monkey astronaut do it once

-Got like 90% of the country’s college invitation letters coming up on graduation

Strength: Someone been eating their wheaties.

-Strong enough to lift large mooks over her body and throw them great distances and take on syntho-drones and muscle enhanced henchman head-to-head, sending them flying with a kick or a punch, or taking on a multitude no sweat

-Kicked a metal door straight out of its secure socket

-Threw a human ninja high enough to reach Dr. Drakken’s hovercraft

Skill: She is, the most interesting young woman in the world.

-Accurate enough to hit a railroad track changer with a rock and then proceed to kick it back in order to avoid being run over by a train.

-Able to hit a gravitation ray with a number plate accurately enough to redirect it.

-Knows 16 styles of Kung Fu (couldn’t find a clip or gif of that being said, but it is quoted in the episode Hidden Talent), and also apparently wrestled a shark (according to Ron in the episode Crush)

--Here she is doing Mantis style, which she claimed only to “dabble in”

-Has held her own against Monkey Fist often, who knows Tai Shing Pek Kwar

--again

-Practically fights Shego, a superhuman, to standstills or better on a daily basis. Bear in mind that Shego fires energy blasts and can tear through concrete like a hot knife through butter.

-Were the last two not enough? Well, now she fights both of them at the same time.

-Able to fight off Team Impossible, an world-renowned team that does dangerous missions like Kim does for a living.

-Actually pretty good at sword-fighting.

Speed and Agility: Come on, step it up.

-Has applied her cheerleading skills to her fighting and maneuverability, only increasing her skill in those areas.

-Her first mission ever, she had to navigate through a lethal laser field. Did she do it? IF SHE DIDN’T DO IT, I WOULDN’T BE SITTIN’ HERE DISCUSSIN’ IT WIT YA NOW WOOD AYE?!

-Dodges frikkin consecutive laser fire on many of her missions

--Like seriously, she does not give a damn about your lasers. She’ll have a convo on her kimmunicator, that’s how much she doesn’t care.

-Add to the list: exploding golfballs, Shego’s energy blasts (multiple from Shego clones), and incredibly fast mechanical arms.

-Ran from stampeding rhinos before flipping back onto them. These are obviously white rhinos, which can run at 31 mph.

Durability: Ouch. Yeouch. Gnuershk. Wait... forget that last one.

-Blasted away by an exploding golf ball, and was A-OK.

-...I don’t... I don’t even know how to describe this. She has great resilience though, I’ll tell ya.

-Flies into a steel beam while grappling, but is up fighting later like it never even happened.

-Knocked out when fighting Ron in a controlled Battle Suit, but considering it took the Battle Suit, a strength and speed enhancing garment (which we’ll get into more in a sec) to do that, as well as the fact that she was keeping up with him earlier (and probably worried about injuring Ron), it’s still impressive in that regard.

The Battle Suit: Gotta say, she pulls off the 80′s Tron look.

-Can project forcefields (strong enough to block attacks by a ultra strong alien named Warmonga), make a lacrosse-like cup to catch and redirect energy attacks: of-all-kinds, and can regenerate.

-The strength it gives her is insane, allowing her to kick Shego hundreds of feet away into a structure with enough force to collapse the whole thing, and hits the before-mentioned Warmonga into a ship with enough force to blow it up.

-The speed boost she gets is also impressive. Here she is, speedblitzing Shego from an earlier clip.

-Finally, it has rockets in the feet, a stealth mode, and a grappling hook (Kim loves her grappling hooks).

-And last but not least, the creme de la creme. one of her most awesome feats: In the episode Hidden Talent, Drakken put her in his most complicated death trap ever. He put her in a reinforced titanium box, which was placed in a deep pit, which was then filled with water, and then a few sharks and giant squids. To top it all off (no pun intended), he froze over the last unfilled part of chasm with six feet of solid glacial ice. It’s all detailed here.

She proceeded to get out of every layer of the death trap with her gadgets and skills, all up until the ice. How does she break through that ice? SHE SINGS A HIGH NOTE INTENSE ENOUGH TO SHATTER A HUMAN SIZED WHOLE OUT OF THE ENTIRE SIX LAYERS, and then proceeds to jumps out as if it were like brushing her teeth. Bear in mind,this is glacial ice, the kind of ice that ship breaking icebergs are made out of.

In an attempt to gauge the epicness of this feat, I asked the science side of tumblr what kind of numbers this entailed. Unfortunately, I haven’t gotten quite the answer I was looking for. So I searched around the internet and actually found someone who attempted to do exactly what I was thinking. Feel free to correct the science if something is wrong, and take what I quote here with a grain of salt. It could very well be wrong. I just wanted to give you a sense of what was happening here.

Here is their quoted analysis and research results, from Terraraptor’s Deviantart page:

“Now, loud sounds can break glass, but ice is structurally different. Glass can be shattered because its internal friction is extremely low, and resonance energy can be built up, which eventually breaks the glass. Ice, on the other hand, is less uniform in its buildup. Its structure is usually random, and usually extremely complex, which means it would have incredibly high internal friction. In theory, this should make it immune from high frequency sounds, but Kim must be able to sing loud enough to overcome this.”

“The minimum level of sound required to break glass is over 100 decibels, which is on par with some opera singers. This is with ideal cases, namely a piece of glass made with almost no internal friction. But because ice is so different, and its unlikely Drakken made ice with no internal friction, Kim must be able to raise her voice to superhuman levels.”

“The only known way to break ice with pure sound waves is through the use of shock waves created by explosions. A study from Japan determined that 1000 joules of energy are needed to break ice 100 mm (or about 4 inches) thick. And since 1000 joules is enough to lift 200 pounds over 3 feet straight up, it constitutes a powerful blast. But Kim’s voice broke ice exactly 6 feet thick. Well, after a bit of math, we calculated that to do this, Kim’s scream had to have at least 18,000 joules of energy.”

“That’s enough energy to lift 3,600,000 pounds straight up! More than enough to shatter human bones, rupture internal organs, and kill any human at close range.”

I would like to add that Kim’s body would have to be tough enough to handle the force from that high note without blowing herself to bits as well.

And that’s all I’ve picked up. Or at least, decided to jot down. There’s a lot I didn’t include, simply because it would overstate certain points.

Kim Possible- She really can do anything.

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maybekatherine · 4 years ago

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Hey. Uh, I know you said you're a trans man so it might be different but how do you select the right fits and sizes if you're looking for clothes in a different gender category! I want to go GNC but I'm not exactly sure how to shop for it :/

So, a lot of this is dependent on your AGAB. Some of it is definitely going to be universal, but my personal experience is that of a 5′3″ 130lb AFAB with slightly broad shoulders. If this doesn’t describe you, then take my advice with a grain of salt because what works for me might not work for you, or vice-versa.

Under a cut, because this got long AF.

Shopping in a different gender category (in my specific gender/size situation) is like hitting a pinata while blindfolded: sometimes candy comes out, but it’s mostly just rocks and depression. And sometimes you miss entirely and hit your dysphoria instead. If dysphoria is an issue, DO NOT shop for clothing in anything other than a good mood, because otherwise you are very likely to trigger yourself.

There’s a book called Transitioning in the Workplace by Dana Pizzuti and it has a fair bit of good advice, but the author is not always great at acknowledging her economic privilege (and doesn’t even acknowledge urban privilege, but that’s not a surprise because no one does). Her advice is to go to a department store that offers personal shoppers, which is apparently something that exists and is also free. Also, she says that a number of department stores have personal shoppers that specialize in finding clothes for trans people. She specifically advises against ordering online, because you can’t try things on before buying them.

However, I do not have access to a department store with personal shoppers, and given the Current Situation I’m not sure anyone does. My options are:

Costco: Literally the smallest Costco in the world. They are not actually an option because they don’t carry men’s clothing in small.

Fred Meyer: All the shirts I wear on a day-to-day basis came from here.

Various outdoor stores: Very pricey, brand name, and like Costco are small enough that they don’t usually have anything in small.

Secondhand stores: Not recommended, because they just have one of everything and it’s nigh impossible to find the right fit.

Online: Not great for already mentioned reason, but there are ways to make it work for you.

With my size, my strategy is generally “try on a small of everything, and get everything that doesn’t look like I put on a bag”. By ‘everything’, I mean that out of eight different shirts, maybe one or two will qualify. I try on one small of every style that appeals to me, and then once I figure out which one(s) fit best I buy one of those in every color I like. If you wear a binder regularly, then depending on breast size I recommend trying shirts on both with and without it to make sure it looks good both ways.

Pants require special attention. If you can go to a brand store like Levi’s or Old Navy where they’ll have shelves and shelves of every single style in every single size and every single color, that is strongly recommended. Be prepared to spend two or three hours finding the Exact Right Fit. Here’s my suggestions/experience on what you should haul to the dressing room:

First thing you want to narrow down is your waist/leg size, which you probably already know. However, there is a chance that your waist size will be different for different styles. If a pair of pants seems to mostly fit but something about the waist is not quite right, try on both a size lower and a size higher.

Still on the topic of waists, I have a frustratingly large waist/butt ratio. My biggest problem when buying pants (of either gender) is finding a pair that isn’t too tight in the butt but also doesn’t have a giant lip right above that I can stick both my hands down at once. This also helps me narrow down what I try on.

I only try on pants with stretchy fabric because those will give me a little more room at my widest part without enlarging the rest. HOWEVER, not all stretchy jeans are alike and there is a pattern I’ve noticed that bears mentioning because it’s really useful to know and not at all intuitive. Middle colors stretch more than really dark jeans or very washed out jeans. It probably has something to do with the dye used, or the way they treat the pants to get the washed out look. It’s weird, but if your body type is also Stretch or GTFO, it’s definitely something to keep in mind.

What waistlines to try on has as much to do with your body type as it does your personal preferences, if not more. I gravitate towards midline waistbands, because too low or too high makes the lip obvious in different but equally bad ways.

Once you’ve narrowed your options down with these or other sizing parameters, do the same thing thing with other clothing, which is try on one of everything that appeals to you. But don’t just go by size, also try on all the different colors too because like I said with the stretch, different colors sometimes fit differently. And if the hips and waist aren’t quite right, go get the exact same style and color in a size smaller and/or larger.

As for online shopping, the fact that you can’t try things on before buying them is absolutely a roadblock. What you need to do is check their returns policy. The more liberal the better. Free shipping on returns is a necessity. Longer return windows are also good. Basically what you want to look for in a returns policy is, the only difference between buying clothes online and returning them, and trying them on in a store’s dressing room, are that it takes longer and some of your money is tied up during the process.

The good news is that a lot of websites that sell clothing know that ordering clothes online is a bit pot luck for everyone, and they tend to have very liberal return policies specifically because of that. A lot of websites will also offer free shipping if you spend enough. I wouldn’t go hog wild and try absolutely everything like I would in a physical store, but once you have an idea of what sizes and brands tend to fit you, that dramatically improves your chances of getting something that fits.

#Anonymous #MOGAI #okay to reblog

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thelastspeecher · 7 years ago

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NaNoWriMo ‘17 Day 8 - The French Fish Girl

Day 01 Day 02 Day 03 Day 04 Day 05 Day 06 Day 07 Day 08 Day 09 Day 10 Day 11 Day 12 Day 13 Day 14 Day 15 Day 16 Day 17 Day 18 Day 19 Day 20 Day 21 Day 22 Day 23 Day 24 Day 25 Day 26 Day 27 Day 28 Day 29 Day 30

Summary: Stan befriends a mermaid captured by his twin brother. Inspiration from here. [Variation of MerGucket AU] Word count: 1686

Part 2

“All right, lunchtime,” Stan said as he entered the room. There was no response from the room’s only other inhabitant. The mermaid Ford had captured last week stayed at the bottom of her tank, silent. Stan sighed when seeing that, once again, she hadn’t touched her breakfast.

She’s gonna starve if she keeps this up.

“Look, I know you don’t like being in the tank, but you need to eat,” Stan told her. She looked away from him.

Nothin’ I say gets through to her. It’s almost like she doesn’t speak English. Stan froze. Wait…

“Uh…hablas español?” Stan tried. The mermaid looked at him, confused. “Okay, maybe…sprechen Sie Deutsch?” The mermaid was now watching him with blatant interest. “Parlez-vous français?”

“Oui!” the mermaid burst out. She pressed herself against the glass of the tank, a manic look in her eyes.

Of course it’s the language I’m the most rusty in.

“I’m not very good,” Stan said in broken French. The mermaid waved her hand.

“I’ll just talk slow. I only have one question anyways.”

“Oh. Go ahead.”

“When are you going to kill me?”

What the fuck?! Stan gaped at her. She had said it so matter-of-factly. The mermaid watched him expectantly.

“Uh, why- why do you think we’ll kill you?”

“You are hunters, are you not? You hunt my people.”

“Your people? You mean, uh…”

Shit, what’s the word for mermaid?

“…Fish people?”

“Yes,” the mermaid said.

“We don’t.” The mermaid jutted her chin out.

“Then why did you capture me?”

“My brother’s a scientist. He wants to study you.”

“I’m not an animal!” the mermaid snarled. Her tail kicked up currents in the tank.

“I- I don’t know what to tell you,” Stan said truthfully. The mermaid drooped.

“I just want to go home,” she whispered.

“Hey.” Stan put a hand against the glass. “I’ll talk to him. If I tell my brother than you’re an actual person, he’ll let you go.”

“Thank you,” the mermaid whispered.

“No problem. I’ll go ahead and give you your lunch now, okay?”

“What’s your name?” the mermaid asked suddenly.

“Stan.”

“Stan. I’m Angie.”

-----

“I’m…sorry that Ford didn’t listen,” Stan said softly to Angie. About three days after the initial communication breakthrough, he was trying to teach the mermaid how to play poker.

And I don’t have to be around Bill. Bonus. Stan scowled. I don’t trust him. There’s somethin’ shady about that guy.

“I understand,” Angie said in a low tone. She twirled a strand of caramel-colored hair around one elegant finger. “I am dangerous.”

“I don’t think you are.”

“Oh, honey.” Angie grinned, baring needle-thin, sharp teeth. “You can be so naïve sometimes.” Stan shivered. “Sorry. Did I scare you?”

“…No,” Stan lied. Angie threw back her head with a laugh. “Anyways, it would’ve worked, if Ford hadn’t hired that fucking slimeball as a first mate.”

“First mate.” Angie flicked her tail idly. “That’s second-in-command, right?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re the captain’s brother. Why aren’t you the first mate?”

“I was,” Stan muttered. He frowned at the cards in his hand. “Then Bill came along, with his experience and shit, and Ford decided he should be first mate instead.”

“Bill’s the person with the eyepatch?”

“Yeah,” Stan said. Angie let out a sudden hiss. Stan looked up at her, surprised. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t like him.”

“Me, neither.”

“No, Stan, you don’t understand.” Angie stared at Stan. “I don’t like him. He’s the person that made me think you were going to kill me. He just- he oozes with bad news.” She bit her lip. “He comes down here sometimes, and talks to me, but he uses the one you and your brother speak, so I don’t know what he says.”

“But can you pick up the general meaning of it?” Stan asked, setting down his cards. Angie took a deep breath.

“I think he’s just talking to me because I can’t understand him. He wants to gloat about something, but if he does to you or your brother, it would ruin his plans.” She shook her head. “But…take that with a grain of salt. I mean it, I don’t know what he says.”

“No, that fits with what I get from the guy,” Stan said. He rubbed his face. “Who knows if I can convince Ford that Bill’s bad news, though. Bill’s got Ford wrapped around his finger.” He paused. “What if I teach you English?”

“I welcome the challenge, but why?” Angie asked.

“You could be my sidekick.” Angie cocked her head, confused. “A spy. You can listen to Bill’s ranting, but act like you don’t understand it. Then report back to me.”

“Oh.” Angie nodded. “Yes. I’ll learn English. But in exchange, you need to learn my native tongue. Mermish.”

“Deal.”

-----

“Any updates on Bill?” Stan asked, walking into the room. Angie shook her head. “Shit. It’s been a month.”

“He hasn’t said anything incriminating yet. Maybe he knows you’re teaching me English,” Angie suggested. Stan sighed.

“I dunno. Maybe.” He climbed onto the stepladder next to Angie’s tank and unlatched the top. “Here’s lunch.” Stan tossed in a few dead fish. Angie surfaced. “Oh. You don’t usually come up here when I’m, um-”

“Don’t close it,” Angie whispered. Stan stared at her. “Don’t close the lid yet.”

“Uh…why?” Stan asked. He tried to ignore the thoughts that suggested she was playing him.

Ford’s wrong. Bill just makes him think that Angie would trick me. She wouldn’t. Sure, she’s a siren, but she’s my friend. Angie abruptly leaned forward and planted a kiss on Stan’s lips. Stan’s eyes widened to the size of saucers.

“Wh-” he stammered after she broke off the kiss. “You’re- you-”

“I promise this isn’t Stockholm Syndrome,” Angie said. She smiled weakly. “I’ve thought you were fetching for a human since the first time I saw you.”

“‘For a human’?”

“The legs ruin it a bit for me,” Angie said casually. “Actually, speaking of…” She closed her eyes. Her body shuddered. Stan watched in awe as her extravagant tail morphed into two pale, clearly human legs. Angie held out a hand to Stan. “Mind helping me out?”

“Um…” Stan took her hand and pulled her out of the tank. Once on the floor, she stood shakily, like a newborn fawn. “How- when- what-”

“Most merfolk can take a human form,” Angie said, running fingers through her hair. “I wanted to show you.” She posed dramatically. “What do you think?”

“You’re hot,” Stan blurted out. Angie frowned. “Attractive.” She beamed.

“Thank you.” She took a careful seat on the floor. “Maybe you can teach me how to play card games properly now.”

“Definitely. But before I do, uh, you need pants,” Stan said, looking away from her cross-legged pose.

“Why?”

“You’re flashing me.”

“…Oh.” Angie scoffed. “I forget that you humans have these archaic ideas about nudity.” She tilted her head. “Though you seem to be more blasé about it than others.”

“I guess.”

“You’d be a good merman,” Angie said suddenly. Stan froze.

“What?”

“You’d be a good merman,” Angie repeated. She stood and walked over to him. “There are ancient ways. You could join me.” Her blue eyes were lit up. Stan found it difficult to not get swept up in her excitement. “Hell, we could leave now, if we wanted. You and me, in the open ocean. Together.”

“Look, Angie, I- I like you,” Stan said after a moment. “But I can’t abandon Ford. Especially not with Bill.”

“…Fair enough,” Angie said. She crossed her arms and looked away, suddenly seeming smaller. “Maybe- maybe you should get those ‘pants’ you mentioned.”

“Yeah.” On a spur of the moment, Stan placed a small kiss on her cheek. She smiled at him. “Okay. Now I’ll get pants.”

-----

“Hey, Ford?” Stan called idly. Ford sighed.

“Yes?”

“This is all your fault.”

“I’m well aware, Stanley. You’ve told me that every single day we’ve been stuck here.”

“Uh-huh. And I’m gonna keep doing it.” Stan kicked his heels against the large boulder he was sitting on. He and Ford had been marooned on a desert island for a week now, and there was nothing to suggest they’d be rescued any time soon. “I warned you about Bill.”

“I know.”

“Angie warned you about Bill, too.”

“Can you blame me for not believing the word of a siren, Stanley? Individuals like Angie trick and kill men for sport.”

“Not me,” Stan said firmly. “And anyways, she was right.”

“I know, I know!” Ford shouted. “She told you that Bill was planning a mutiny, and you told me, and Bill convinced me she was lying, then told me to execute her. I know how it all happened, I was there!”

“You don’t know how Angie escaped, though,” Stan taunted.

“I do. You helped her.”

“Nope.”

“What? Then how?”

“Beats me. Maybe it has somethin’ to do with how she can grow legs.”

“What?”

“I said she can grow legs!” Stan shouted. Ford let out a loud huff.

“Do we have to have this conversation so far away? Come back to the beach, so we can preserve our voices!”

“Nope! I like this rock.” The boulder Stan was sitting on was a decent distance from the beach proper, but before the shoals and reefs that bordered the island. Ford refused to go out as far as Stan did, which led to shouted conversations, when Stan didn’t want to go back to the beach. Stan kicked the water idly. “Reminds me of the one we found Angie on.”

“What?” Ford yelled.

“I’m done talking to you, Poindexter! Go away!”

“Fine!” Stan watched the cerulean waters for a few minutes.

If we weren’t, y’know, marooned, this would be kinda nice. Stan sighed. I just wish I could contact Angie somehow. I miss her. There was a splash off to his left. His head whipped around, and he caught a brief glimpse of a familiar yellow fin disappearing below the waves. His heart skipped a beat. Was that…? There was another splash, this time next to his rock. He looked over.

“Hey,” the mermaid said softly. Stan grinned.

“Hey.”

#MerGucket AU #Stanley Pines #Angie McGucket #Stanford Pines #Stangie #my writing #NaFicWriMo #ficlet #speecher speaks

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yourlifefun · 5 years ago

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santaprofit5-blog · 5 years ago

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crispy roasted chickpeas

If you have been looking for a crunchy, savory, addictive and healthy snack, you’re in the right place. These Crispy Roasted Chickpeas will rock your world. With only five ingredients these crunchy garbanzo beans are ready in just 25 minutes and come in at just 128 calories per serving! They would be a perfect addition to your Superbowl celebration, too!

~ It’s Stephanie here with a new cookbook review!

I found this gem of a baked chickpeas recipe in The 30-Minute Mediterranean Diet Cookbook. It’s written by two dietitians, Serena Ball and Deanna Segrave. Their love of food coupled with their nutritional knowledge shines through on their blog Teaspoon of Spice.

What Is The Mediterranean Diet

The Mediterranean Diet has always spoken to me. I’m very much an (almost) anything in moderation kind of girl. I love food and luckily for me most of it seems to love me. The heart healthy Mediterranean Diet focuses on plenty of vegetables and fruits, whole grains, seafood, healthy fats like olive oil and wine. Yes, you heard me right. Wine in moderation is allowed. And as long as I’m stocking up on my veggies and fish I can also enjoy a little whole grain bread dipped in a bit of extra-virgin olive oil with that occasional glass ‘o wine. Sign me up!

For a more visual explanation check out the Mediterranean Diet Food Pyramid created 25 years ago by Oldways, a nonprofit food and nutrition organization.

The 30-Minute Mediterranean Diet Cookbook

This cookbook is full of super flavorful Mediterranean inspired recipes that are ready in 30 minutes or less. If you have a special dietary restriction, there are several nut-free, dairy-free, gluten-free, egg-free, vegetarian and vegan options. All of the recipes are accessible and simple. In the beginning of the book Serena and Deanna explain the multitude of health benefits of the Mediterranean Diet including reduced risk of arthritis, Alzheimers, diabetes, cancer and asthma. From breakfast, to pizza and pasta, to fish and seafood, to dessert the 30-Minute Mediterranean Diet Cookbook is a book for everyone.

I always say that I would step on a cupcake to get to a bowl of pita chips. When I have a craving it’s not for something sweet, but something salty, tangy and crunchy like garlic almond kale chips. Boy did I hit the jackpot with this baked chickpeas recipe. And considering they are gluten-free, nut-free, diary-free and vegan they are a perfect roasted chickpeas snack!

In addition to olive oil and salt this version has fresh thyme and orange zest. It is the perfect flavor combination to capitalize on the crunchy on the outside, but creamy on the inside quality of the chickpeas. The thyme and salt add a great savory note, while the orange zest adds a subtle zing of freshness. You may want to make a double batch!

How To Make This Roasted Chickpea Recipe

Dry those chickpeas. In order to get them crispy on the outside they need to be dry. You don’t want mushy steamed chickpeas do you?

Oil up those chickpeas. It doesn’t take much, just 2 teaspoons of extra virgin olive oil for a 15 ounce can. But the combination of the oil and contact with the baking sheet will result in uber-crunchy chickpeas.

Heat is your friend. Baking them at a high heat (450 degrees) really creates that crispy exterior and keeps the creamy inside texture. The key is to watch them closely and shake the pan occasionally to make sure they don’t burn. If you have an oven that runs hot, you may want to consider lowering the heat to 400 or 425 degrees and possibly roasting them for a bit longer if needed.

Get creative with the flavors. Mixing up the flavor combinations like cumin and lime zest or curry powder and ground ginger will keep the awesome snack from getting boring. I can’t wait to try Serena’s favorite combo of unsweetened cocoa powder and smoked paprika. Whoa! So open up that spice cabinet and get a little crazy!

How To Store Oven Roasted Chickpeas

This roasted chickpeas snack is best eaten the day it is made. Inevitably no matter how you store them they will not be as crispy the next day. That is not to say they aren’t still super tasty and you can re-crisp them in the oven if you wanted to. Just remember that moisture is the enemy of these oven roasted chickpeas.

Roasted Chickpeas Don’ts:

Store them in plastic bags or containers.

Put them in the refrigerator, as long as they are crispy and mostly dry they can be stored at room temperature for a couple of days.

Roasted Chickpeas Dos:

Store them in a glass container with the lid slightly ajar.

Even better would be to store them in a parchment or paper bag or in a bowl covered with a paper towel.

These storage options allow air to circulate around them and keep them drier and crispier.

I can’t wait to make a few of the other amazing-sounding recipes in this awesome cookbook like Roasted Broccoli Panzanella Salad, Tuscan Tuna and Zucchini Burgers and Yogurt and Herb Marinated Pork Tenderloin.

So if you’re looking for me I’ll be sitting and flipping through this lovely cookbook with my glass of wine, a handful of crispy roasted chickpeas and dreaming of being in an exotic locale somewhere on the Mediterranean Sea.

More Healthy Snacks You’ll Love

roasted garlic hummus

black bean hummus

sweet and spicy nuts

brown butter maple rum party mix

super green edamame hummus

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Description

These Crispy Roasted Chickpeas will rock your world. With only five ingredients these little babies are ready in just 25 minutes and come in at just 128 calories per serving! Bonus that they are gluten free, nut free, diary free and vegan, too!

Ingredients

1 (15-ounce) can chickpeas, drained and rinsed

2 teaspoons extra-virgin olive oil

1/4 teaspoon dried thyme or 1/2 teaspoon chopped fresh thyme leaves

1/8 teaspoon kosher or sea salt

Zest of 1/2 orange (about 1/2 teaspoon)

Instructions

Preheat the oven to 450 degrees.

Spread the chickpeas on a clean kitchen towel, and rub gently until dry.

Spread the chickpeas on a large, rimmed baking sheet. Drizzle with the oil and sprinkle with the thyme and salt. Using a microplane or citrus zester, zest half of the orange over the chickpeas. Mix well using your hands.

Bake for 10 minutes, then give the baking sheet a quick shake. (Do not remove the baking sheet from the oven). Bake for 10 minutes more. Taste the chickpeas (carefully). If they are golden, but need to be crispier, bake for 3 minutes more.

Notes

Change up the flavor combination of this fun snack. Try 1/4 teaspoon each of cumin and lime zest or try 1/4 teaspoon each of curry powder and ginger. Serena’s favorite combo is 1/4 teaspoon each of unsweetened cocoa power and smoked paprika.

Nutrition

Serving Size: 1/4 cup

Calories: 128

Sodium: 299 mg

Fat: 4 g

Saturated Fat: 1 g

Carbohydrates: 18 g

Fiber: 5 g

Protein: 5 g

Cholesterol: 0 g

Keywords: chickpeas, snack, nut-free, gluten-free, vegan, 5 ingredients, 30 minutes or less

struggling with weeknight meals?

My free ebook, The Best Weeknight Dinners, includes 15 of my family’s favorites — recipes and meals we go back to over and over again. It includes simple entrees you can make start to finish in 20 to 40 minutes. And all are made with simple to follow instructions and easy to find ingredients.

Thanks for signing up! Just check your inbox to confirm your subscription, and then look for a welcome letter from me, including a link to download your free ebook. Every week you’ll receive ideas and inspiration on how to incorporate more fabulous healthy seasonal recipes into your life!

Source: https://www.healthyseasonalrecipes.com/crispy-roasted-chickpeas/

#read more #see more #check it out #interesting #learn more

0 notes

dashlung62-blog · 5 years ago

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Butterbeer Cupcakes

Accio Cupcakes! Look at these Butterbeer Cupcakes! The Harry Potter geek in me is freaking out! I haven’t had this much fun making, styling, and photographing a recipe probably ever. I recently went to Universal Studios Hollywood to check out the new Wizarding World of Harry Potter. I was like a kid in a candy store, literally, because I went to Honeydukes. I got a Chocolate Frog, a box of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavored Beans (and they mean every flavor!), and some pumpkin juice to wash it all down.

While I was there I also got to taste Butterbeer for the first time. It was so fun! It tasted surprisingly good. Very sweet, but hello, it’s me, I love dessert so much I wrote a book about it. The butterbeer liquid part tasted like a rich cream soda and then on top there was butterscotch flavored whipped cream. Yum. It came in frozen and regular, I only tried the regular.

My favorite part (why do I feel like I’m writing a 3rd grade report on my summer vacation? Ha!) was Ollivander’s wand shop. It was soooo freaking cool! I want to start a wand collection now. Is that lame? I don’t even care. The staff that works in the Wizarding World of Harry Potter, are so awesome. This super nice lady sat there and asked me all these questions like, what my top 3 qualities are, what house I was sorted into (Griffindor, duh), and then walked around the shop showing me which wands would best be suited to me. You can tell the staff is super into Harry Potter. They get so excited seeing you excited. I got a season pass so I could go back. What?

I was also very excited to buy some legit Griffindor robes. I got a new scarf, and tie as well. These are so real looking, they could be from the movies. They were pricey, but I justified it by telling myself I would dress up as Harry Potter for Halloween this year…and probably forever. I spent dumb money in Harry Potter land, but you know what, #yolo.

In prep for my visit to the Wizarding World of Harry Potter (can I just abbreviate it to TWWOHP yet?) I re-read all the books from start to finish and then watched each corresponding movie after I finished the book. I started before I left for my caribbean vacation because I needed reading material for the plane and finished right before I went, a few weeks ago. Perfect timing. All of the magic was still fresh in my mind. It made the experience that much better!

So if you don’t like Harry Potter, sorry not sorry. You should still try these cupcakes because they are pretty legit. I prefer them made with almond flour, but then again, I don’t have nut allergies. If you do, then these are for you because I used Otto’s Cassava Flour. If you want to use almond flour I found a great deal at Costco in the baking aisle. If you aren’t a Costco member, I’ve been seeing this Bob’s Red Mill Super-Fine Almond Flour in regular grocery stores, which is exciting, because it’s way better than their Almond Meal, which isn’t fine enough for baked goods.

So what else has been up besides Caribbeaning and Harry Pottering? Are you actually still reading this? I thought I lost you at wand shop. Well I’ve been dealing with a skin condition. I’ve been to 2 doctors already, my general practitioner and an allergist. I see the dermatologist on Tuesday, but I think what I have is atopic dermatitis.

At first I thought it was hives. I changed my laundry detergent even though I’ve been using it for years and it didn’t improve. The allergist gave me steroid pills, antibiotics, a steroid cream, anti-histamines, and a new inhaler because my asthma started acting up along with my skin issue. Nothing has helped. I have to take cold showers and scratch myself with a boar hair brush because my nails end up scratching then scarring me. It’s been awful. Most nights I wake up itching for at least an hour before I can fall back asleep.

It started out as a small patch on my leg. I thought it was a reaction from tanning (I had to get my pre-caribbean glow on, don’t judge and yell at me). Then as I scratched it started to spread. It started to clear up, and then a few days after my birthday it got really bad and it’s been really bad ever since. Part of me thinks it’s because I ate real gluten donuts and real gluten pizza. Oops. It was a dumb idea, I know. Trust me, I learned my lesson. No more Evil Kenevil stunts for me. I’ve been reading articles that say people with atopic dermatitis should stay away from gluten because it causes so much inflammation. Ugh. Good thing I don’t normally eat it anyway I guess.

Anyway sorry to bring this Butterbeer Cupcake Harry Potter party down! Just catching you up on some health stuff since I kind of write like a food blog about how cleaner food makes you feel better. Just so you guys know I have my health issues too and have to eliminate food from my diet sometimes too even when I don’t want to. I’ve also been doing a Sober October! I know, can you believe it! I feel SO good. It makes me never want to start drinking again, but then that would be so unfair to all the gluten-free beer, wine, vodka, gin and craft cocktails of the world. Oh and we can’t forget Moscow Mules. My fave.

I also started doing hot yoga. I’m obsessed. Not like Harry Potter obsessed, but like I started doing it 3-4 times a week. They heat the room to 115 degrees and each class you do different poses. I leave each class feeling like ten-thousand million dollars. It’s my new jam.

My Mom came to visit. That was fun. We made some Rocky Road ice cream from my cookbook, using the Best Chocolate Ice Cream recipe as the base, then adding mini-marshmallows and chopped almonds. It’s her favorite flavor so we had to! We went to church at my favorite place, The Rock, no, not like Dwayne Johnson, like The Rock Church. We went out to eat, got facials at the day spa and laid out by the pool. It was such a great time.

Okay so I think that’s a pretty good recap on like the last 2 months. Did you see how cute these Harry Potter baking supplies are! I got them on Etsy! I just did an Etsy search for Harry Potter Cupcakes and all this cool stuff came up! I may have also bought some HP shirts and HP jewelry too to wear on my next trip to Universal Studios.

Now go butterbeer! Do it!

1 cup (120 g) cassava flour

1 tablespoon coconut sugar

½ teaspoon baking soda

½ teaspoon fine-grain sea salt

⅛ teaspoon ground cinnamon

1 cup (7 ounces/200 g) butterscotch chips

½ cup (120 ml) canned full-fat coconut milk, room temperature

¼ cup (55 g) palm shortening

½ teaspoon vanilla extract

2 large eggs

1 cup (7 ounces/200 g) butterscotch chips

1/4 cup (60 ml) canned full-fat coconut milk, room temperature

For the butterbeer cream frosting

16 tablespoons (227 g) unsalted butter, softened

1 cup (135 g) sifted maple sugar

1/8 teaspoon fine-grain sea salt

1 teaspoon vanilla

2 cups cream soda, to make a reduction (see directions)

Adjust an oven rack to the middle position. Preheat the oven to 350°F (177°C). Line a 12-well cupcake pan with paper baking cups; set aside.

In a medium-sized mixing bowl combine the dry ingredients—cassava flour, coconut sugar, baking soda, salt, and cinnamon—and stir together using a fork until combined; set aside.

Fill a medium saucepan with 2 inches of water, bring to a simmer over medium heat. Melt the butterscotch chips, coconut milk, and palm shortening together in a large heatproof mixing bowl set over the simmering water. Stir together using a rubber spatula until smooth and combined. Remove from the heat and let cool slightly.

Using a rubber spatula, stir in the vanilla, and eggs until combined.

Use a cookie dough scoop or a large spoon to transfer batter into the cupcake liners, filling them about two-thirds full (they will rise slightly when baking). Bake for 20 minutes or until a toothpick comes out clean. Let cool for 10 minutes, then remove from the pan to cool completely.

Once the cupcakes have cooled, use the bottom flat side of a decorating tip to core out the center of each cupcake. Then make the filling/garnish and Butterbeer Cream Frosting .

For the filling and garnish

Melt the butterscotch chips and coconut milk together in a large heatproof mixing bowl set over simmering water. Stir together using a rubber spatula until smooth and combined. Remove from the heat and let cool slightly, then transfer to a piping bag or ziplock bag. Snip the corner and fill the inside of each cupcake.

For the butterbeer cream frosting

In a medium sized saucepan, heat the cream soda over medium heat until it boils and reduces down to about 1/4 cup. Let cool completely. In a large mixing bowl, beat together the butter, sugar, and salt with an electric mixer or stand mixer set to medium-high until the butter is light and fluffy and the sugar is incorporated, about 2 minutes. Add the vanilla extract and 3 tablespoons of the cream soda reduction, continue to beat until smooth. Make sure the cream soda reduction has cooled enough so it doesn’t melt the butter when combined.

Use an offset spatula to spread or transfer to a piping bag fitted with desired tip.

Garnish by drizzling the remaining butterscotch filling mixture over the frosting. Store at room temperature in an airtight container for up to 2 days.

1 bag of butterscotch chips will be enough since it's about 2 cups.

Subs: For frosting sub 2 cups (250 g) organic powdered sugar in place of maple sugar.

You could use a sugar-free cream soda like Zevia in place of regular cream soda, but there is no need to boil it down since it doesn't have real sugar in it. Instead, just use 3 tablespoons of the soda at room temperature. The flavor will come through much more subtle in the frosting though.

For the butterscotch chips I used Guittard brand, they have no partially hydrogenated oils.

Clean Eating with a Dirty Mind http://cleaneatingwithadirtymind.com/

October 31, 2016 | 10 Comments