#this really started when i realised if i had to choose between mushrooms and people id probably choose mushrooms

[skitarii-bird]

Life is... weird...

For the last 5(?) Years I've been identifying as gay, now I'm not really a label person nor am I one to represent my orientation publicly (I've always thought that if I had the choice I would go back into the closet) but in the recent months and especially after ending a relationship before it could take off I've been thinking about it. We all know that orientation is a spectrum, you can relate to many things but what you chose to identify as (publicly or privately) is entirely up to you. I took this into account with my pondering and it's helped me realise something, no relationship I've had except for one, I haven't enjoyed sex too much... like sure I'll participate for the pleasure of my s/o and yeah that one relationship was fun once in a while, but it's not a set craving, and to be honest, neither is a relationship unless I feel entirely bonded to the person. After doing research (and more pondering) it led me to asexuality and it's umbrella of terms, and it's beautiful. The fact that I can look at something like grayace and think 'huh, that sounds right, really right' and not spend a month after thinking I'm just trying to conform to a role in life is really cool! It make me happy that this generation can do something like that and it has this army of people willing to indulge the thought and help the questioning. This is really just a long winded way of saying I still identify as gay, but to be honest, grayace is probably going to be my main answer to "are you an alphabet cultist?" And that's okay :)

[ammocharis]

OC Interview: Vatna

Thanks for the tag @cleverblackcat, @mageofholyandraste, @darethshirl! It sounds fun!

Introduction

This event was organized a few weeks prior to the Winter Palace ball. Ambassador Josephine Montilyet had invited a few Orlesian journalists to Skyhold to interview the newly appointed Inquisitor.

Can you introduce yourself?

Vatna Einarsdotten Selkesdotten of Two Falcon Hold. (a moment of silence) In the Frostback Mountains. (another moment of silence as the interviewers wait for her to say something else) Inquisitor of the Second Inquisition. (it seems that she won’t say anything more, so one of the journalists asks the next question)

What are your gender identity, orientation, and relationship status?

Is that what you ask every Lowlander? (grumbles) Alright. I see myself a woman. Who I invite or don’t invite to my bed is my very own matter. I am unmarried and have never been before. If you’re curious, yes, the Avvar may marry multiple times in their life if they wish so. Does this answer satisfy you?

Where and when were you born?

I was born in Two Falcon Hold, eighteen... no, nineteen winters ago. (she corrects herself as she remembers that winter came and went when she was away from home, making her one winter older than when she left)

What is your weapon of choice and fighting style?

I am a mage. Unlike most spellweavers in your Circles, we in the mountains train with all sort of weapons, just like any other warrior. I prefer fighting in close quarters. When I came of age, I chose an axe as my preferred weapon. It was commissioned from the dwarves of Orzammar. The blade is engraved with runes and the handle has lyrium core that I can easily channel my magic through. It has been... misplaced for the first few months that I spent with the Inquisition, but it was recovered. Fortunately, the gods blessed me with another weapon in the meantime - the fire-staff that belonged to the Avvar-Mother. I’ve been told this topic is a source of confusion, but I’m not sure how to explain it better. Yes, I do use both an axe and a staff now. I had a battleaxe when I arrived into the Lowlands. Then I lost it. Then I claimed the staff of Tyrdda Bright-Axe. Tyrdda was called Bright-Axe because she had a staff with a fire-focusing crystal. But the word ‘axe’ used to mean every hafted weapon. Then I got back my axe, my regular axe... Let’s go to the next question.

Are you happy?

I’ll be happy when the Lady’s Veil is fully repaired and Corypheus lies dead. Until then, I have work to do. Would you be happy if there were world-dooming critters in your house? Because there are. There are cowards in Orlais scheming together with Corypheus, maybe even people you know. (a lady in a pale blue mask exchanges looks with the others and suggests a lighter topic)

Family and friends

What should I say? Just talk about my family and friends? Well, my father is called Einar, my mother is called Selke. In my hold, we take bynames after both our parents, so I actually already revealed their names. My father was born is Two Falcon Hold, my mother moved from another hold further south. They’ve been married for twenty three years now. They were rather mad to promise such a long marriage without extensions. Eighty-eight knots, can you imagine? I mean, they could always as the Thane to cut the rope short if they grew tired of each other... But it works well for them. I hope they’ll live together until it the last knot. (the interviewers prompt her to explain what she meant by knots and ropes) Oh, I run away with that. The number of knots is the number of years the marriage is supposed to last. Before the wedding, the bride ties a number of knots into a rope, and the groom’s task is to untie them. On the wedding day, the bride starts to sing hymns to the Lady of the Skies. The groom begins to untie the knots then. However many he’ll manage to unravel before the hymns ends, that many years they shall be married together. After the promise ends, they can get married again if they wish. But my parents vowed to get married for eighty-eight years right away. Eight is a blessed amount. Eighty-eight, doubly so. I’ve been told the ritual took all day to complete. By the end of it, my mother’s throat was sore and my father’s knuckles were raw. But they got married how they wanted, and the bond has been steadfast for many years now.

I have a younger sister, Hirka. She’s only four winters younger than me but she can be a real brat sometimes. We used to be inseparable as children. Then we both grew a bit. I got my magic and had to spent a lot of time mastering my abilities. She had other things to do too. But she’s my sister no matter what.

I have some (she pauses to rememeber the right word in Common language) aunts and uncles, but most of them and their families live in other holds, so I haven’t seen them a lot. Only a few times, never in some cases. The word still travels through the Mountains, so we do hear news from them every now and then. 

In the end, the whole hold is your kin.

Have you ever run away from home?

Once or twice, I skulked outside of the hold and refused to go back until well after nightfall. But I never really run away, I wouldn’t abandon my family like that.

Would you consider marriage or having children?

I don’t know.

Do you secretly hate any of your friends?

No, I do not. Those who I call my friends, I think as such. I make my dislikes known. Too easily, I’ve been told.

Which friend knows everything about you?

There is someone who knows my soul, but I’m not going to talk about it.

Asked by fans

Are you literate? Have you been to school?

Yes, I can read and write. Not everyone in the Mountains does, but more than you imagine, I think. Augurs, skalds, merchants, those who aspire to be thanes... Many are able to tell the numbers, in order to trade with dwarves, but haven’t practiced beyond that.

The augurs learn how to read so that they may study old magics. I was an apprentice to the Sky Watcher of my hold - uh, a Sky Watcher is like a... priest to the Lady of the Skies. I was supposed to become his successor. So I studied something almost every day since I was eight. One day, I would memorize the shapes of protection sigils, and then try to draw them myself. Another day, I would study the uses of all mushrooms found in caves. But we don’t have any schools like there are in the lowlands. You learn from your mentors and from the gods, and most importantly, from your own mistakes.

The eeriest prediction you made that later came true?

Eeriest? I’m not sure. I dreams of many things. Some come true, but not in the way I imagined them to.

What is something you were embarrassingly late to realise?

I had no idea those lap dogs your Orlesian ladies carry around are really dogs. I’d never guess they share blood with wolves. I thought they’re some sort of magic toy.

Do you have mental or physical problems?

Do you honestly expect me to reveal my weaknesses to you?

What is your current main goal?

As I said before, restore the Veil and kill Corypheus.

Drink or food?

Am I supposed to choose between the two? Food, I guess. I could live on soups and stews, maybe. Does goat milk count as drink or food?

Cats or dogs?

Birds.

Optimist or pessimist?

I learned these words only recently. I must say, I do not fully understand why your sages would divide people like that. Is there someone who truly sees everything in bright colours? And someone who sees everything in black? Isn’t everyone a little bit of this and a little bit of that? Perhaps I’m more on the pessimist side.

Sassy or sarcastic?

Eh, sarcastic.

HAVE YOU EVER:

Have you ever been caught sneaking out?

Yes, I once got so bored with my healing lessons that I decided to sneak out while Jokka wasn’t looking. She of course noticed me right away. I never tried to sneak out again.

Broken a bone?

I broke my left wrist while climbing. My mentor healed it quickly but he left a scar to serve as a reminder to not be so reckless.

Received flowers?

I... (she bits her tongue) Josephine tells me I had received several bouquets of flowers this last week. She had placed them in the guest hall where everyone can enjoy them.

Ghosted someone?

Ghosted? (a man in a green mask explains mirthfully) No, never. I wouldn’t leave someone hanging like that. I’d tell him straight in the face. (she replies sharply)

Pretended to laugh at a joke you didn't get?

I have yet to learn how to pretend so well as to laugh at something I don’t understand or find funny.

~

Tagging (no pressure, of course, this is just for fun): @dreadfutures, @tejaswrites, @serenpedac, @molliehaswords, @crackinglamb, @a11sha11fade, @rakshadow, @samuraisaucefrites, @noire-pandora, @1000generations

[soft-serve-soymilk]

For Inigo

24 - how long does it take for them to call someone their best friend?

And from the soft oc asks: 12 - What's a childhood memory they cherish most?

Here, the first in the new line of ocs asks only you read :> Starting with best boy, of course~

I made him in picrew ^^

So before i answer ur littol questions I think it's best to reestablish the context here,, since you don't really have a means of reading it hehe. Inigo is my witty, aroace, 13-year-old archer and the no. 1 consumer of coffee out of everyone :). Inigo got lost on the streets as a wee kindergartner due to a paper orphan-- or child trafficking-- scheme, which was so incredibly disorganized eventually he just ended up displaced and fallen through the cracks. Fortunately for him though, he meets Archie (who has run away from home in order to find his missing younger brother, Dism) :>. It is from here that he learns how to speak, and write, and he's given his name,, which was initially going to be Indigo (bc of the colour of his blood, he thought that's why Archie kept him around intially, because it's unusual like Dism's. Basically, he thought he was a surrogate) but since he couldn't pronounce it correctly it came out as Inigo. Anyway these two form an almost brother-like bond over the time they were together. However, because of their unfortunate situation these two end up almost starving to death eventually, and inigo gets coerced into throwing Archie's journal into the river to be washed away forever in order to secure a last-ditch supply of food. It's from here that he realises just how fallible Archie's mental health is-- how he gazes a little too long at highways, the lack of vivacity in his voice, how poor his self-esteem is -- and it troubles him. But alas, they had to be separated; Archie was to follow on the lead he gained, Inigo to go to Archie's hometown to some friends of Archie's dad Nate, who were an infertile couple who wanted a child. And so they went, silent goodbyes.

Bc Archie got himself stranded in the dream world Oskopnir against his will soon after, he was unable to give any indication of his still-existence to Inigo (he was told no-one knew where the dawn stone, or the portal between oskopnir and byrgir was, and it's impossible to travel things if you're not a lucid dreamer in the first place). And inigo, after years and years of no letters, no indication of anything at all, having learned of what depression and suicidal ideation actually is, now thinks he killed him~ :>. Why? Bc that same journal contained many many photos of Dism, which obv would've have made his search for him *a lot* easier. But at the same time, the actually more logical part of his brain reasons the opposite, which brings us to the present day.

Inigo has now put up an icy front against anyone he meets, now deliberating on the hedgehog's dilemma and choosing the answer that it's better to stay away to avoid hurting himself and other people (guess who's now traumatised haha). He still really is a marshmellow of sweetness and affection underneath though. He works very hard, almost unhealthily so, and is very, very intelligent-- he's advanced two grades to be where Dism and Cynthia are. He’s now very snarky and smug, and because of his trauma-induced guilt, self-destructive, self-loathing even. Not to mention impulsive. But for those that can see past the exterior of emotional dishonesty and borderline manipulation, there’s a caring, thoughtful, and most importantly devoutly loyal boy underneath :) OH and before I forget, he’s one of the lucid dreamers (the half-race people with a chance of being made when someone from oskopnir and someone from byrgir well... do it together. I mean kinks do exist and maybe you really do want to fuck a mushroom-person idk you do you) Indigo-coloured, he controls the aspect of intuition and has a range of extrasensory perceptive powers such as clairvoyance and predicting the immediate future :)

And now for your questions :>

24 - how long does it take for them to call someone their best friend? To put it frankly, a very long time xD. But in a more serious light, there’s really one ingredient crucial to achieving this coveted status: vulnerability. The rest follows. If you were to position yourself in such a way that he’d be forced to break and speak from the heart, with unwavering emotion and feeling, welp he can’t exactly cover that up can he? And now you have greater access to the fuller depth of his personality, and if you were as understanding and non-confrontational as Cynthia or Dism were, well you’re on a good track :D. If one does get this far, generally what was the slowest of burns becomes the greatest of flames; he’s fast besties with anyone at this point, and really treasures the trust people give him and gives great pains not to go back on it ever again :> It’s also this methodology that allows for his and Dism’s eventual QPR-- because Dism got to see him at his worst, just 1-on-1, it’s that relationship that eventually becomes one of his greatest ^^. Really, they defy all labels, and the only way I could put it is, it’s like two wounded people caught in the crossfire of a terrible disaster, broken and bleeding. But they bandage each other, and comfort one other even if it hurts god damn it, and they’re going to stay together until they’re both as happy and free as they can be, whereupon they’re so used to crying on each others shoulders, so used to the pleasure of each other’s company, that they just. What do you call this. It’s love, but so free of the taint of sexuality, or heated romance. Pure; endlessly giving. they build each other up and make each other better, and when they can’t build no more they send each other flying. Joyful flying, like something out of a ghibli film. I really hope that explains things for you :> can you tell i’ve spent an excessive amount of time daydreaming about these two

soft oc asks: 12 - What's a childhood memory they cherish most? I feel the need to say he’s literally 13, he’s only just out of “childhood” xD. And tbh, he still is smol baby to me anyway as the 3rd youngest oc xD. Since the thought of Archie dying is so severely traumatic, it’s clear that he treasured practically all the time they had together, as short as it was. Being on the rooftops together at midnight, looking at the still illuminated streets below, being passed down his hat (I realise why his previous designs felt so off to me. he was missing a hat. And this is actually why i have Naoto as my current pfp, it’s to subconsciously evoke him :>), that’s probably one of the things he holds most dear to his heart. But also all the stories they shared together, huddling and sleeping together to keep warm,, he has such a fondness for those memories it’s painful to look back on them now. He gets over it, though :> Also, he’d hate to admit it, but that time he defended cynthia from some nasty people by brandishing his pocket knife and getting himself suspended for a week. It’s the kind of fondness you get when you look at something stupid you did in the past. And again, it’s the vulnerability factor here-- he showed he cared about her and that’s how they became besties even though they’re complete and utter opposites :) (except for the fact they’re now outcasts. They had that in common at least) He cherishes a lot of things, it’s why his last name was initially saudade before his character development prompts him to change it to valere-vervain :> (plant theme!!). And yes, that means his full name is allllllll of his own design. He does not get it let go without a little friendly teasing from his friends xD

And that’s it for the first!!!!!! Hope you treasure and enjoyed it, i do recommend you copy and save this to your computer in case of another accident ahshdhdg

[carminite-wyrm]

Its an Empires SMP + Wynncraft crossover AU I guess

So, I’ve been playing a lot of Wynncraft recently, and man, the Wynncraft lore sure is wild. Halfway through doing a quest I suddenly remembered that hey, nether corruption sure is a thing over here, and isn’t there Also an invading corruption storyline going on over in Empires?

Anyways so here I am with yet another niche AU idea lmao (though also with the latest videos from Pix and Gem I...kind of already am thinking of a variant on this one lmao)

- Some indeterminable point in time in the future, the Empires gang are having the final fight against Xornoth, ready to take out the demon and cleanse their world of the corruption that had been taking hold of their kingdoms.

- Its down to the final few blows, with the Kings and Queens coming together, despite their grievances with one another, despite all the differences that had once been between them, to finally strike down the demon.

- Naturally, of course, it goes a little sideways.

- The final blow lands, and the hellish arena disappears in a flash of unholy light.

- When the heroes awaken, they find themselves in a spider-infested patch of woodland.

- Upon fighting/running their way out, they quickly realise that yeah, this sure isn’t the Empires SMP anymore.

- There are some shenanigans, probably, upon that realisation, but eventually, the group makes their way to the nearby city of Detlas, severely disconcerted by the clear presence of corruption in the land around them.

- They’re fairly certain that they saved their own land, only to land right in another world also beset by corruption.

- Their various communicators also seem to be displaying a different HUD from what they’re used to, including an actual mana bar along with their health, and more equipment slots and most baffling of all: the option to level up and increase a variety of skills.

- Also, there’s magic, though a different magic than what they’re used to

Added to that, the monsters are far more different to what they’ve encountered in their home world. Zombies, fairly standard, even if the ones in this strange land seem somehow more powerful than theirs. Spiders, easy. And then Joey stumbles across a flaming horse rocketing straight at him at roughly 40kmph, screeching demonically all the while. It narrowly misses pummelling him in the face with its hooves and oh, looks like this isn’t a standard world after all.

Character classes and more thoughts under the cut!

Character classes! (Wynncraft currently has 5 classes people can choose from!)

Warriors (uses polearms/hammers, generally the dps/tank build)

Scott – He has a pink battleaxe, yes of course he’s the heavy-weapon-using class. Also, bc I think it’d be really amusing to see this elf dude w/ an antler crown charging straight at someone with a massive axe/hammer/polearm.

Fwhip – King of the Grimlands, projecting an image of strength even as the corruption ran rampant and clashed with the inherent darkness of his own kingdom.

Lizzie – Ocean Queen w/ a Trident, enough said. Sure, there might not be any axolotls in this world for some reason, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have the powers that made her one of the most powerful Empires back home. Probably mains thunder elemental magic, bc sending chain lightning at enemies is very cool.

Mages (Magic staff goes brr. Also they can heal)

Gem! – I imagine she’d be highly adept at hitting enemies with the regular attack spell, and then suddenly casting a meteor and crystalline ice to obliterate her foes as the rest of the party watches on.

Katherine – Teleporting + fast attacks = magic menace. Also bc I think it’d look cool for her, and honestly that’s the majority of my decision-making here w/ the class selections

Pixl – Idk, something about the vigil and the whole candle thing makes me think he’d make a pretty damn good healer. Calm, collected, and the most unshakeable amongst the chaos of the Empires gang. (This AU idea was written like, a week before the latest video lmao so we're just gonna...gloss over the most recent plot developments for a bit until I can figure out how to make it make sense in the AU)

Assassins (Stabby stabby DPS)

Joel – Look I just think the imagery of Joel + Lizzie absolutely wrecking shit together on a battlefield is too good to pass up on.

Sausage – Man literally ran an assassin guild back in their home world, of course he’s an assassin here in this one. Probably has several sets of daggers hidden up his sleeves, and probably ends up with a life steal build.

Pearl – Pearl with knives would be terrifying and amazing to behold. On the other hand, I was considering either Mage or Shaman but we already have like three Mages, and I don't really have any ideas for how Pearl would utilise the Shaman abilities atm.

Archers (Ranged DPS or support)

Jimmy! – Swamp boi deserves to pop off and what better way than to be able to cause arrows to rain from the sky. And also to backflip out of danger. I imagine navigating a swamp has given him an actual dexterity or agility score.

Shaman (Buffs + support)

Shubble – Honestly I think she’d really vibe with the nature-y vibes this class kind of gives me, what with her mushroom kingdom vibes and the magic. Also, one of the most complex classes, but considering Shubble and her whole researching the corruption thing, I think it’d fit.

Joey – I’m gonna be honest, I don’t know much about his POV beyond ‘wants to court the demon’ at the moment, so contributions welcome here.

- Gem and Shubble’s initial investigations (because they absolutely hit the first library or archive they could find) whilst the others explored/adventured around the area eventually lead them to determining that in order to return to their own world, they’ll have to make their way to the most dangerous region of the Wynn region: The Silent Expanse.

Defeating whatever entity is chilling deep in that eldritch hellzone that’s pinging off Gem and Shubble’s (w/ machinery assistance from Pixl) cobbled-together ‘machine for detecting their world’s own magic’ should be enough to trigger the same event that sent them to this world. They think. Its enough for them all to hope, at any rate.

- Its an odd feeling, being at the height of their powers only to be thrust into a world where a tap from an armoured skeleton can take them down to a third of their health in one hit, at their current ability level.

- The party starts off at roughly level 5-7 btw, because I’ve had to do the tutorial quest and Enzan’s Brother quest like six times and I want to skip that here thanks.

- Eventually, the group does have to split into smaller parties for efficiency, though they’re understandably hesitant to be separate from everyone else in an unfamiliar world.

- Obviously, the parties do shuffle around a bit depending on what quests they end up undertaking, to play for each of their strengths and to cover for their weaknesses.

- Because they’re the Kings and Queens of the Empires SMP, they climb up the levels fairly rapidly, racing through quests in Ragni, Detlas, Nemract, Almuj, before finally venturing across the ocean to the province of Gavel.

- They’re well aware that something rather bad is going on in this world, something that looks and feels so similar to the corruption back home, but yet not.

- Their first encounter with the Parasites in the Dark Forest has those more in tune with the currents of magic, or the natural world, recoiling from the feeling of ‘wrong wrong that should not be in this world-‘

After that harrowing encounter, they are very, very glad, that in their world, the source of the corruption was clearly from a pesky demon, and not the result of warring planar powers.

One would think that, as the resident swamp dweller of their motley group, Jimmy would have been a tad more relaxed in the Olux Swamp. And yet, the magic from his Empire has him on edge throughout their travels in that area, the lingering sense of foreign magic, of what the locals refer to as the Decay, worrying away at the familiar scent of the swamp.

[imkylotrash]

Change The Ending

Pairing: Ron Weasley x reader

Request: They're searching for the deadly hollows and it's the moment where Ron leaves. You can choose whether reader goes or stays, either way it's going to be angsty for whoever gets left behind. Anonymous

A/N It’s currently 1am and I have a dog that’s going to wake me in 5 hours 🙃

Tagging: @bitchwhytho​ @music-of-melody​

It takes you weeks to find the first horcrux. Another couple of weeks before you manage to steal it from Umbridge. And that’s when you realise you have no idea how to destroy the locket. Wearing it makes everything harder but it takes a toll on Ron more than the rest of you. He yells at the slightest inconvenience and refuses to apologise even after taking off the locket. You all thought Harry had a better plan than this, you thought Dumbledore had a better plan than this. But you said to the bitter end when you told Harry you were coming so you keep quiet. Ron, on the other hand, has made it his mission to keep you all miserable and that starts with Harry. 

“I’ll take the locket now,” you say holding out a hand to Ron. He’s been wearing it for four hours which is five hours less than the rest of you but he’s much worse when he wears the locket so you all agreed that you could handle it. 

“Fine,” he sneers almost throwing it at you rather than giving it to you. Before all this when you were still at the Burrow, you and Ron had a moment. It was at the wedding right before you had to flea when he asked you to dance. It’s the first time you’ve felt like he actually noticed you which makes you feel slightly pathetic because you’ve noticed him since the third year. Better late than never, you told yourself. But now it was like looking at a stranger. 

“Hermione got us some food,” you try with a smile but he only groans. 

“It’s probably just mushrooms and nuts. I’ll pass.” You bite back what you really want to tell him because no good will come from it. You’ve all been working hard to stay cheery but all Ron does is mope around and while you understand that he’s worried about his family, he seems to think he’s the only one with people to worry about. 

“Is he in a mood?” Harry asks once you’re outside the tent. He nods to the locket around your neck. 

“It’s been worse,” you just say not wanting to stir anything between those two. The tension is bad enough as it is. Harry nods knowing what you’re trying to avoid. You both grew up in muggle homes right around the corner from each other so you’ve known each other for almost all of your lives. But you can’t get between him and Ron, you refuse to take sides. 

“We’ll figure something out soon,” Hermione says trying to convince you as well as herself. And she’s right. You do figure out that the sword of Gryffindor will be able to destroy the horcrux, but you have no idea where the sword is. 

“Great! Another thing we have to find,” Ron says throwing out his arms in real tantrum style.

“The sword is easier to find. Dumbledore hasn’t hidden it,” you try to reason with him but it’s impossible when he’s wearing the locket. He’s angry and lashing out at anyone who’s near him. 

“No one ever said this would be easy, Ron. I told you I couldn’t promise you to be home for Christmas,” Harry interjects and you really wish he hadn’t because Ron goes mad. 

“Yes, the family I abandoned to follow you! But you’ve got no clue what you’re doing. And clearly, you’re not in a hurry,” he yells pushing all the right buttons to get Harry upset as well. You lock hands with Hermione watching it all unfold. 

“Take the locket off, Ron. Please.” You reach out your free hand hoping that it’ll calm him down a little if he’s not feeling the weight of the horcrux. But he’s way past the point where he has to wear it to be affected by it. Even with you holding it, the nasty words continue to leave his mouth. 

“It’s not like the rest of us don’t have someone to worry about,” Harry argues fed up with Ron’s behaviour. 

“You don’t have a family!” Even you can’t defend him after that. Bringing up Harry’s family is a low blow especially for Ron. Mrs. Weasley would be so disappointed in him. 

“Get out!” Harry yells doing his best not to punch Ron right in his face. 

“Fine with me!” Ron scoffs grabbing his few items and putting them in a backpack. 

“Can we all just please calm down. Let’s take a walk, clear our mind.” You’re begging at this point because you know what comes next if Ron decides to leave. But the damage has been done. Harry won’t ask Ron to stay after what he said and you can’t blame him. You all have people to worry about. Family isn’t just blood. 

“Please, Ron,” you say quietly pretending it’s just the two of you but he’s beyond the point where you can bring him back. He’s upset. 

“Are you coming or staying?” he asks abruptly raising an eyebrow. There’s nothing you’d like more than to call it a day and go home to the Burrow for one of Mrs. Weasley’s famous meals but how could you when the world is depending on you to kill Lord Voldemort? You can’t abandon the mission even if your heart is screaming for you to follow Ron. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper hot tears falling. 

“Suit yourself.” It’s the last words he says before storming out the tent. You’re all in shock over how fast everything happened. You bring the locket over your head grabbing your wand from your bed. You won’t run after him and beg him to stay. That’s too much even for you. 

“I’ll take the first watch. Get some sleep.” You head outside to sit down. Inside the tent, you hear them shuffle into bed without another word. The quiet night calms you down a little but you can’t help the ache that’s settled down in your heart. Ron becomes a taboo over the next couple of weeks. You try to carry on as usual but it’s clear that he’s missing and it’s wearing you all down. Suddenly, the chain seems much tighter around your neck. The night he comes back, you’re not exactly in a forgiving mood. Hermione screams enough for the both of you so you decide to go inside and pretend like you didn’t see him. You’re thrilled that the locket is now destroyed and that you have a weapon to kill the next horcrux with but you’re not ready to pretend like everything is fine. He left and more importantly, he left you. Without any hesitation, he got up and left you behind. It takes a while before you’re even willing to look in his direction but he keeps trying to make it up to you. He brings you breakfast in bed, offers to take the night shift, he even takes it upon himself to bring you fresh flowers every night before bed. 

“Can we talk?” you ask him one day. Immediately, he’s on his feet following you outside the tent. You’ve decided to make peace with him because the group can’t handle being divided and honestly, you’re tired of being angry. 

“I’m sorry I left.” 

“How did you find us?” You know he’s told Harry and Hermione already but you were too upset to listen to him. He gladly tells you seemingly pleased that you’re even talking to him. 

“I hated the way I left things between us two. Merlin, it was just getting good and then I acted like a complete prick.” At least he has a little bit of insight, you note already feeling your anger slowly evaporate. 

“You did.” You’re not about to pretend he wasn’t the world’s largest asshole even before that night. 

“I came back because it was the right thing to do. But mainly, I needed to change how things ended between the two of us. I needed to know you didn’t hate me.” For someone as thick as Ron, he really has a way with words. 

“I could never hate you.” He smiles at that taking it as encouragement and sneaks his hand closer to yours. It takes you back to the wedding and his hesitation behaviour when he asked you to dance. 

“If you’re going to kiss me, you may want to do it fast before I change my mind about forgiving you.” You keep your face neutral but inside you’re smiling like crazy. This is the Ron you fell in love with and you really hope he’s here to stay.

“Yes, ma’am.”

[s-horne]

BASICALLY its about tony showing his love through food sorry that was really long

okay so i had this idea, and im really swamped with work so im passing it over to you: tony associates caring and love with food. when he was really young, he would sit on his mamma's hip, one of her arms around his tiny waist as she stirred with the other, and as he grew older and howard started demanding more of her attention (for this charity or that benefit); the only time tony and his mom spent together was in the kitchen together. 1/2)

years later, tony equates food to love. he cooks for the people he cares about. and then i lost the thread of the idea but it involves steve and tony and peter and tony cooking for steve and teaching peter recipes that he can later teach his kid (2/2)

Please enjoy 3k words of Tony in the kitchen; preparing meals for his husband and their friends, his&Steve’s adoption process, and then Tony’s legacy

*******

Spaghetti Bolognese

It was an affront to the meal. His Mama would kill him if she knew how he was preparing it.

It was the only meal she’d actually known how to cook and they had a weekly Thursday night dinner date in the kitchen when Howard worked late at the office. She’d carry him round on her hip when he was too small to see what she was preparing on the countertops and, when he’d grown a little taller, sit him in pride of place to sound out every word of the passed-down recipe written in her mother’s cursive handwriting.

Of course, Maria knew exactly what the recipe called for – which was a good job when Tony tripped over some of the measurements or skipped down a couple of lines by accident – but she let him play along until he was old enough to help her cook the actual meal itself.

It was definitely the thought that counted, Tony tried to tell himself as he stared down at the meagre ingredients in front of him. He had to work with what he had and what he had wasn’t much. The only tomatoes he’d had in his cupboards were the tinned kind, so the sauce wouldn’t be as good as his Mama’s when she used the fresh tomatoes from the farmer’s market they had to drive out of town for.

He’d only wanted to make something a little special for Steve. Their anniversary had been interrupted by a battle and they’d gone from a romantic meal at a five-star restaurant to suited up and locked in a fight with an alien invader. Given that they were meant to eat out, their kitchen wasn’t exactly stocked for cooking.

“Need a hand?”

Tony lifted his gaze from the two jars of dried herbs he’d been choosing between. Neither were particularly appealing so he was glad of a distraction. “I thought you were sleeping.”

“Woke up,” Steve said, stifling a yawn behind his hand as he wandered over to Tony. “Obviously.”

“Obviously,” Tony agreed with a roll of his eyes, a fond smile tugging at his lips. He turned back to the dried ingredients in front of him as he waved to the other side of the kitchen, eyes drawn to the way his ring caught the light. “You can chop whichever onion hasn’t gone off over there. I think there’s actually a part of the serum that means you won’t cry whilst you chop it.”

Steve huffed a laugh, trailing his hand over Tony’s hip as he passed him. “Pretty sure that’s not a thing.”

“Well, there’s only one way to find out. Dice it finely, please.”

Vegetable Soup

Vegetable soup was easy. Most soups were easy, really. Tony could make most of them with one hand. Chopping the vegetables was sometimes a little tricky with his arm in a sling, but he could stir the vat of broth easily.

After a battle, it was all that anyone needed. A few loaves of bread in the centre of the table and a mountain of pain relievers handed round with the crockery and they were set.  

“Can I help?”

Tony looked up from the pot and over to Peter, hovering in the doorway with his arms wrapped round himself. He looked young, so much younger than he was. “You’re meant to be resting.”

“Couldn’t sleep. The pills hurt my head.”

“But they heal everything else.” Tony beckoned Peter over before he turned back to the stovetop. “How do you feel?”

“Like someone dropped a bus on me.”

“Been there. Grab a tomato and stop chopping.”

Peter did so wordlessly, shooting Tony a soft smile as he slid into a chair by the table. “What else do you want me to do?”

“A few peppers, if you’d like.”

“How thick?”

“Whatever you want.” Tony watched Peter out of the corner of his eye, the way that he winced when he reached for a fresh vegetable in the middle of the table and how he moved gingerly with his eyes narrowed into slits. “How bad is it?”

Peter sighed. He worked on carefully dicing his whole pepper before he spoke again. “Bad. I can’t go home. No one can see these injuries. They’re already questioning me and this will push them over the edge of kicking me out.”

“You’re already home,” Tony said lightly, concentrating on adding a few spices to his soup instead of looking back at Peter. He could feel eyes on the side of his face and fought the urge to turn with everything he had. “After we’ve eaten, I’ll show you the papers.”

The pot bubbled, loud in the otherwise silent room. Tony smiled down at it as he stirred in large circles, scraping the side of the vat where the sauce threatened to burn.

“I’d like that.” Peter sniffed a little and let out a muffled curse. “Well. I’m done with these. Can I help you make the bread?”

Rosemary Focaccia

Tony loved making his own bread. When he was a child, their cook would only let him in the kitchen if he promised to be calm and quiet and she’d quickly realised that one way to keep him like that was to prop him in front of an oven to stare at the bread as it rose.

The smell of yeast and the uncooked dough turned Tony’s stomach as he’d gotten older, but there was nothing better than the scent the bread produced when it started to bake. Fresh rosemary only added to that, or maybe even a few cloves of garlic mixed in with the dough.

Focaccia took a long time to knead and for the rising process to get done perfectly, but spending that long watching over it in the kitchen meant that Peter could sit at the breakfast bar to finish his homework and not be alone.

Peter hated being alone. They’d discovered that pretty quickly after he’d moved into the tower with the rest of the team and had all started going almost out of their way to ensure that Peter didn’t have to suffer by himself. It wasn’t exactly a hardship for Steve to sketch in the communal living room instead of his bedroom, or for Sam and Bucky to train on the mats in the middle of the gym whilst Peter ran laps around the edge to get out of his own head.

And if definitely wasn’t a problem for Tony to dig out the recipe books that had been sent to him after their cook had passed away and flick through them to find an old Italian favourite that would take him a good couple of hours to perfect.  

Cookies

Cookies were a staple in Tony’s recipe book. There were many different varieties, so many tweaks that could be made to each batch to make a different cookie type for any occasion.

“–so that’s why Ned isn’t allowed into the theatre practice room anymore,” Peter said in-between bites of a pecan and chocolate chip cookie. “So we can’t go in to see Madison when she’s in there. We have to meet in the math rooms.”

Tony nodded along as though he’d understood any word Peter had been babbling on about. “Right.” He wasn’t sure what exactly he’d asked to prompt Peter’s longwinded explanation, but he didn’t mind the company.

“Oi, Spider-kid.”

Peter jumped comically at the voice from behind them and Tony shot an arm out to catch him before he fell off the breakfast bar he’d perched himself on. “Jeez, what – oh. Black Widow. Ma’am, I didn’t, I’m sorry, I–”

“Gym,” Natasha said, throwing a thumb over her shoulder to show where she wanted Peter to go. “Spar session. You’re ten minutes late.”

Peter’s eyes went wide and he scrambled for his phone, paling when he realised that he was, in fact, late. Tony couldn’t hide his amusement and snorted loudly, earning himself a dirty look from Peter and an unamused eyebrow raise from Natasha.

“And don’t think you’re getting out of it, either,” Natasha said to him. “Steve is already down there with Thor. They could do with a third. A mediator of sorts.”

“Oh, no.” Tony shot a faux-upset look towards Peter before grinning at Tash, “sorry, but these cookies just aren’t going to bake themselves, now, are they? Pete’s good for the job, though. Practical experience and all that.”

Peter’s glare was about as powerful as a newborn kitten’s, but it tugged at Tony’s heart nonetheless. Giving him a smile, Tony reached for the batch of raspberry cookies he had just pulled from the oven and counted out ten.

“A special treat,” he said, urging Peter off the breakfast bar and herding him in Natasha’s direction. Setting the cookies on a plate at his side, Tony winked at the kid. “For when you’re finished. You’ll need to get your sugar levels back up.”

Rigatoni Pasta Bake

The only difference between Tony’s preferred version of a pasta bake and the classic that Ana had taught him as a child was that his was a bit more adventurous. It served to make things just a little bit more exiting. Everything he did was done with a flair of the dramatics, so it made sense for cooking to follow the same lines.

Making his pasta bake was an excuse to throw everything in his cupboards into the mixture. A hundred different varieties of cheese for the topping, ground beef and sausages for the filling and whatever vegetables he found in the back of the fridge to make the meal just a tiny bit healthy. Tony loved to make it, loved to spend an entire afternoon shaping each piece of pasta if he really wanted to get out of his head. Experimenting with different sauces was his favourite – a tomato sauce for a rainy Sunday afternoon, a cheese sauce for an evening in front of the television, a mushroom and white wine sauce for a romantic evening in.

His pasta bake was the first meal he’d made when they’d finally adopted Peter, legally and truly. Maybe a small part of him had been wanting to show off, but Tony had really cared about making sure Peter had a real square meal. Something to help him recover from the small scrapes he’d gotten in his night-time brawls, to repair some of the damage of malnourishment from his previous home.

It was something so simple, but made with so much care.

Apple Pie

As stereotypical as it may have been, Steve loved apple pie. It had been something of a staple in his household when he’d been growing up and his mom had made it whenever they managed to get the fresh ingredients needed. Steve spoke so fondly of her hours in the kitchen, telling how he was often too ill and weak to do much more than sit at her side and watch, that sometimes Tony felt as though he’d been there too.

Sweet pastry wasn’t Tony’s favourite thing to make, so he chose to keep it for really special occasions. The sort of days where he wanted to spoil Steve a little, wanted to make him feel important and loved and all the things that Steve made Tony feel every day.

Tossing out the apple cores and scraps he’d collected on the side of his chopping board, Tony settled in to decorate his pie. He preferred the open-top approach, liking to cover his filling with thin slices of apple and a sprinkling of cinnamon and sugar instead of more pastry. Lost in thought, Tony startled when Steve wrapped his arms around Tony’s waist and pressed a kiss to his neck.

“Happy birthday,” Tony murmured as he fell back against Steve’s chest. “Wasn’t expecting you up just yet. Thought I tired you out last night.”

“Hm. You did a pretty good job, but the bed was empty. I don’t like it when the bed’s empty.”

“Sorry, darling. Wanted to make this for your birthday breakfast.”

Steve nosed at Tony’s shoulder, dropping kisses to the bare skin there. The first thing Tony had found on their bedroom floor when he’d woken at the crack of dawn was a workout shirt of Steve’s. Given its size, the material hung off Tony’s frame. It wasn’t practical, but it was cozy.

Sexy, as well, apparently, if the hardness pressing against his ass was anything to go by.

“Pie for breakfast?” Steve asked, hooking his chin over Tony’s shoulder as his hand shot out to snaffle a piece of apple floating in the bowl of warm water at Tony’s elbow. “How lucky am I?”

“Of course it’s pie for breakfast,” Tony said, hands working quickly to place the apple slices on the top of the very-nearly finished pie. He kicked at Steve’s ankle for punishment of the theft, but couldn’t find it in him to be too mean. “It’s not every day you turn four hundred and seventy-three.”

Standing as close as they were, Tony felt Steve’s laugh vibrate through him.

“Demon.”

“That’s me,” Tony replied happily, laughing with Steve and tilting his head to one side when Steve bit at his neck in retaliation. “Now, get off me, you brute. Let me stick this back in to brown.”

Moving back a fraction, Steve’s hands danced over Tony’s stomach. “How long do we have?”

Tony sighed happily when the pie was in, his eyes falling closed when Steve swapped from biting to sucking a deep bruise just above his pulse point. “Long enough.”

Indian Potato Pie

“Here, try this.”

Whatever Steve had been about to say was cut off by Tony shoving a forkful of potato-filled pastry in his mouth.

“Well? What do you think?”

Steve fanned his mouth. “I think it’s hot,” he said through the mouthful of crust. “Did you cook this with lava?”

“But what about the texture? The filling – do you think it needs more of a kick? I only put in a small amount of chilli flakes this time and a lot less ginger than I did before. I think I liked it better last time.”

“Tony,” Steve reached out and caught Tony’s hand, taking the fork from him before twisting their fingers together, “this pie is perfect. You’ve been making it since you were a child. You’ve perfected it so much you could make it in your sleep.”

“No,” Tony said dismissively, turning back to the counter and peering at the unbaked pie on the side. “I think it needs more salt. You can taste it in the crust. Let me just redo the pastry.”

Steve used his grip on Tony’s hand to pull Tony into his chest, wrapping his free arm around Tony’s waist to hold them close together. Tony gave up without a fight, his shoulders slumping as he rested his hand on Steve’s chest.

“Please stop worrying,” Steve whispered. “Replace the bit you shoved in my face and pop it in the oven. It’s going to be fine.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do.” Steve ducked his head and caught Tony’s lips in a sweet kiss. “I know you and I know our son. He wouldn’t be bringing someone home unless they were special to him. There’s no way we can scare them off. Not with a pie, at least.”

Tony Stark-Rogers’ Recipe Book

The book had taken him years to complete. Tony had started it as a young boy when Jarvis had bought him an empty journal for his fourth birthday. For the first few years of its existence, Tony had hidden it under his bed just in case Howard ever entered his room and caught sight of it.

Every page had been handwritten, carefully crafted letters spelling out the words of each recipe (and most of them had even been spelt right because Jarvis had helped him).

There were sections of his Mama’s recipes, the ones she’d passed down to him from her Mama and even her Mama’s Mama. Though Tony had never gotten to meet either of them them, he’d known even as a child that that was pretty important.

Ana Jarvis had a section as well, one with special Hungarian recipes that Tony had needed a lot of help to spell. He’d shown Ana one day, down in the kitchens. He’d pointed out all the best bits that he’d coloured in the colours of Hungary’s flag and Ana had started crying. Tony had been horrified and started tearing up himself before she promised him that he was a lovely little boy and she was crying because she was so very proud of him. Even as an adult, Tony remembered that he’d gotten a huge hug that night before bed and an extra special plate of lemon squares brought up to his room – made just for him!

As he’d gotten older and his book had gotten fuller, Tony had carefully moved it from journal to journal, cutting out pages and sticking them back into the next edition with slight amendments or scribbled changes to quantities. It was his pride and joy.

“You’re going to take care of this, aren’t you?”

The child stared at him with wide eyes, so big they were nearly popping out of their head. They didn’t speak a word, but their head just about wobbled off with the velocity of their nodding.

“You’re going to listen to Nonno when he tells you what to do in the kitchen?”

Another round of silent nodding and Tony laughed, bending down to his grandchild’s level. Holding out his arms, he let his precious recipe book rest in the palm of his hands, ready for the taking.

“Go on then, bambino. It’s yours.”

Tiny fingers curled over the edges of the stained and battered book, complete concentration etched all over the child’s face. The love Tony felt threatened to beat right out of his chest and he reached out to flick his grandchild’s nose.

“What shall we bake for your first try? I’m pretty sure there’s a good recipe for mini cupcakes in there, somewhere, and I need an assistant chef.”

Tony had no qualms about handing his book down to the next wave of Starks. His children had grown up in the kitchen working tirelessly next to him to feed their teammates and friends, their siblings and their partners. It was time.

The kitchen was the heart of the home, after all.

[where-s-all-blue]

Okay so, I was tagged into This post right here by @vinsmoke-luffy and since I didn't want to over complicate his/her/their post too much, I decided to answer the questions on a separate post. Thank you for tagging me buddy!

One Piece Questions

1. What got you into One Piece?

Honestly speaking, I saw one of the volumes in the local library and decided to read it. I found the thing to be interesting, but I'd only hear about the anime later on, around the age of 13. I first found out about the series when I was 6 years old.

2. What got you hooked into the series?

Oh man, it's been over a decade, it's so hard to say- probably the kindness that the characters portrayed, loyalty and friendship? Something that I'd totally yearn for taken in how oddball of a child I've always been.

3. Which character would you punch and why?

That's pretty much a tie between Black Beard, Akainu, Doflamingo and Big Mom, all four of them represent things that I absolutely despise; Lust for power, corrupt "Justice", lack of empathy/sympathy and abusive behaviour. I'd go into detail of why, but I am fairly sure that it's no brainer why I'd physically assault them on sight even if it'd probably cost me my life.

Sometimes, people who are in power, do not deserve the power they've obtained and in those cases they must be taken down before they can cause any further damage to the people.

4. Which moment will stick with you forever?

"Ikitai! Watashi wa isho ni umi ni tsureteitte!"

Robin's seyuu went all out in it and.. It made Something resonate in me. I am not sure what it was, but it'll stay with me to the end of my day's.

5. Which moment pops up randomly in your head?

The first time we meet Brook, that moment will forever haunt me. Brook's voice is so gentle and it just makes you pay attention to him in it along with just how nonchalant he is while he sips his imaginary tea.

6. Who is your favourite character and why?

Uhhhh I absolutely suck with choosing favourites, I can't even say what my favourite food is! But here's a list of the characters I'm attached to for no particular reason? I honestly never know why I like someone, it's not really that important to me, if you like someone, you usually like everything in that person. The following block of names isn't in any order because I am a chaotic dumbass.

Rosinante Donquixote, Coby, Eustass Kidd, Trafalgar D. Water Law, Killer, Shachi, Bepo, Penguin, Shirahoshi, Katamuri, Brulee, Pudding, Niji, Ichiji, Yonji, Reiju, Chiffon, Lola, Ikkaku, Portgas D. Ace, Sabo, Monkey D. Luffy, Roronoa Zoro, Black Leg Sanji, Cat burglar Nami, God Usopp, Tony Tony Chopper, Nico Robin, Franky, Jinbe, Emporio Ivankov, Sengoku, Fujitora, Rebekka, Vivi, Koala, Tiger, Otama, Okiku, Komurasaki, Izo, Marco, Edward Newgate, Thatch

7. How much has One Piece impacted your life?

I am literally as old as the manga (23 years old (2020)) so uhh... Use that as a measure I guess? No, don't really do that. But it's.. It's kind of hard to say, I have been a fan of the series since I was six years old, I've laughed, I've cried, I've grown a lot during the 17 years that I've been part of this fandom.

I can't say that it hasn't had any effect on me nor my views, because I can say that a lot of the way how I look at certain things like familial bonds and friendships were heavily influenced by the series, but I can't even start to measure the amount of impact it truly has had on me.

8. What is your favourite One Piece quote?

“There comes a time when a man has to stand and fight! That time is when his friends' dreams are being laughed at! And I won't let you laugh at that!” - Usopp

“Stop counting only those things you have lost! What is gone, is gone! So ask yourself this. What is there... that still remains to you?!” - Jinbei

“The government says your existence is a crime, but no matter what kind of weapons you may hold, just being alive isn't a sin! There's no crime in living!” - Franky

“You can spill drinks on me, even spit on me. I'll just laugh about it. But If you dare to hurt my friends... I won't forgive you!” - Shanks

“When they are shot through the heart by the bullet of a pistol? No. When they are ravaged by an incurable disease? No. When they drink a soup made from a poisonous mushroom!? No! It’s when… they are forgotten.” - Hiluluk Doctor

“Compared to the "righteous" greed of the rulers, the criminals of the world seem much more honorable. When scum rules the world, only more scum is born.” - Eustass "Captain" Kid

“Inherited will, a man's dream, and the flow of time. As long as man continues to seek out the answer to freedom, these things shall never be stopped.” - Gol D. Roger

Honestly, I couldn't choose only one out of this bunch, I've tried before and I always fail because they all are equally meaningful to me as a person.

9. Which laugh style gets to you most?

I-

I honestly have never thought about it? I don't really notice things like laughing styles, because to me laughter is one of the most beautiful things on earth. It shows the joy within us. And when you come to my age (or this might be more about me as a person) you just... Stop paying attention to something like that? Especially if it sounds natural to your ear.

But then again, my friends time and time again have to remind me that my sense of what is normal is very flexible and abnormal by itself. I might pass a person wearing a horse head out in the public dancing whatever is The meme dance currently and not even realise that it's not something that'd normally just happen in my home town. Yes the before mentioned has happened before.

But yeah, to sum it up: I have literally never paid attention to the laugh quirks of the characters I just don't see them as something that should bother me or make me react to it in other way than being happy for the person to be comfortable enough to actually laugh the way they would laugh when they are alone.

It's just... Laughter?

10. How will you feel when One Piece ends?

The same way as I feel about anything ending most likely, I'll be melancholic over it ending, but happy to have experienced it.

Tagging: @nue-nue-nomi @shambledsurgeon @whereistheonepiece @shadowstormdragon (TUMBLR Y U NO LEMME TAG?!) @ohnoluffy @luffytarhoe

Though if you're interested in answering these questions in general, do take a shot at it!

[arabrot]

Who Do You Love by John Doran

Who Do You Love?

We drove 5,000 miles of barbed wire.

You’d think that by travelling that distance around a country you could get the measure of it. Especially if the country was only 361 miles from top to bottom and even less from East to West. You’d be thinking reasonably but not accurately.

Despite journeying the equivalent of one fifth of the circumference of the entire Earth in 31 days, all we got to see was the road itself. England endless. What we experienced was just a percentage of a splodge, a smidge of a blotch on the coastal fringe of Europe that deserved neither the sobriquet Great, nor the title United. How did such a small area of land contain such extravagant lengths of major road? In the same way that a human body could house a tapeworm 33 metres long. Probably not comfortably but hopefully not fatally either. Undoubtedly, in May 2015 - general election month - England had beauty to spare: it’s just that none of it was visible from the motorway.

We met on the forecourt of a petrol station near an airport. Heat haze was already starting to rise from the tarmac. The Driver was dressed immaculately in a tight-fitting black suit, shades and wide-brimmed black hat. His concession to non-monochromatic decoration was silver chains carrying cocks and crosses. He looked like Asa Hawkes, the “blind” preacher from Flannery O’Connor’s Wise Blood - but much thinner. He tipped the brim of his hat hello. This was not his stage hat but his everyday hat. His stage hat, the kind of prairie Stetson featured in the opening scene of Holy Mountain was massive and kept in the kind of box that suggested it was an essential part of a drum kit. It had its own carefully allotted slot in the back of the van with the tons of amplifiers, speaker cabinets, guitars, synthesizers, boxes of books, suitcases full of clothes and bags and bags of oranges we were taking with us. There was only one way to fit all of this stuff into the vehicle, and packing it correctly was like 3-D Tetris. All it took was one giant, impractical hat in the wrong place and then everything had to be taken out again and reloaded in the correct position.

He was the colour of milk, which made the angry red scars up either side of his neck all the more vivid. He looked like the missing link between human being and some future race of Lovecraftian eel-men who would be able to breathe via gills under water.

As well as me and the Driver, there was the Passenger. She looked more like she had stepped straight from the set of Bladerunner than a Jodorowsky or John Huston movie. This was to be their last tour as boyfriend and girlfriend as they were headed straight to a deconsecrated church in rural Sweden to get married as soon as the trip ended. I was merely a temporary guest in their world. A road voyeur with a month long pass.

Within minutes of setting off we hit the M25 we became enmeshed in May Day traffic. I realised that most of the month was going to be spent looking at slow moving traffic on motorways.

But just as driving to Brighton was slow and painful, leaving it the next day was a dream. On the motorway, time stretched and contracted simultaneously in temporal doppler effect. The days seemed longer but time blistered, popped and broke apart pleasantly as the brain switched down a few gears into a near pure experiential mode. There was little to worry about. All I could do was count the pylons and pretend I had a flamethrower to aim at UKIP billboards and hoardings; to luxuriate in motorway sign typography and listen to Maggot Brain as loud as it would go. Miles Davis’ Agharta was the soundtrack to us speeding out of the south up the M1 towards the Rainy City. Al Foster’s ringing, open hi-hat was our fuel. And then it was nothing but John Coltrane, Electric Wizard and NOMEANSNO until we reached our destination. It started raining the second we hit Stoke. And then before long we were on the Mancunian Way heading for Piccadilly in torrential rain, parking the van under a tangle of flyovers. When I planned this jaunt it was a thing of beauty. I took an AA road map and unfolded it until it covered half the floor space in my tiny living room. I took a sheet of stickers from my son’s Thomas The Tank Engine magazine and created a spiral of towns and cities, first round the edges near the coast and then spiraling in toward the centre. Our proposed journey looked like an occult temporal and spatial message only discernable from the god perspective. What I planned was a perfect thing. But after you plan your perfect thing what happens is this: promoters start phoning you up or emailing you. ‘We’ve double booked you with a Stereophonics tribute act’; ‘There’s actually a bar mitzvah on that day’; ‘It’s Record Store Day.’ And then the perfect thing falls to pieces. By the time we hit the road the perfect thing looked like that terrifying film of a spider on LSD trying to spin a web. And there was only one thing worse than a spider on LSD trying to spin a web and that was a spider on caffeine trying to spin a web.

We stopped for several coffees en route to Sunderland the next day. The weather was beautiful. Fields of golden rape seed glowed under a blue sky. But I gave up counting the UKIP billboards. There were just too many. The purple pound signs zipped past in a blur. We’d been on the road for five days and I hadn’t seen a single sign for Labour. It was almost a relief when we passed a huge hoarding in an arable field next to a broken tractor which proclaimed: “Prepare to meet your Lord!” We pulled in soon after to stretch our legs in front of a petrol station that shared a forecourt with a sex shop wrapped in a large tarpaulin hoarding, proclaiming: “Under new management!” Next door was a garden centre flying a row of ten confederate flags and two Union Jacks. There was a knackered and rusty jet stream caravan serving up plastic cups of filter coffee.

It became clear early on that the Travelodge was our friend. Every Travelodge the Driver, the Passenger and I shared was identical. A family room. One double bed, one fold out couch bed, minimal decoration, very interesting mass produced art, scant furniture, tea making facilities and a portable telly, often chained to the wall. The Travelodge may have had less furniture in it than the average bail hostel and may sometimes have smelled like a suburban pet shop from 1984 but it was totally fine as we were low ranking touring musicians and writers, not visiting dignitaries from Saudi Arabia.

After Leeds, our Travelodge was situated in a motorway retail park so the following morning we walked just a few hundred yards to the Toby Carvery for breakfast. Pushing open the double swing doors we were confronted by a man in stained chef’s whites, with hair pushed under a light blue plastic turban crowning a jowly and crimson face. He was methodically and noisily applying a large cleaver to a foot long cylindrical sharpening steel with a schnick-schnick sound.

“Hello!” said the Driver cheerfully. “Are you Toby?”

The chef looked up slowly and a pendulous and translucent bead of sweat swayed under his nose. His eyes were like drill holes in gammon. Bruised udders of flesh were hanging below each of his nicotine-stained ocular orbs. He was possibly the most hungover man I had ever seen. He jawed away silently, his eyes flickering dully with rage as he started straightening up. The BPM of metal on metal increased. The three of us circled round him gingerly and headed rapidly for the breakfast counter past tables rammed full of people who looked like they were about to die. I had never seen so many morbidly obese people in one place at one time. It was like God’s waiting room with unlimited fried egg.

Oh England, you are sick.

It was only £5 per head and you could eat as much as you wanted but the choice was only bacon, sausages, roast potatoes, black pudding, fried egg, fried bread, beans and mushrooms. The thrill of the open road. Unlimited roast potatoes and bacon for breakfast.

(We spent just one night at the supposedly more upmarket Premier Inn, and it was relatively more luxurious but due to its incomprehensible automated reception machine, it took us an hour and a long conversation with two angry Premier Inn employees to gain access to our room. “Getting into this hotel was like the opening scene from a new episode of Black Mirror”, said the Driver, a recent convert to the show. “There’s nothing like waking up in some shitty English town, before eating some shitty English breakfast before driving slowly down some shitty English motorway for 12 hours before loading into some shitty English venue and playing a shitty gig to ten people before going to some shitty Travelodge just to watch a really well made English TV series which explains to you exactly why everything is so fucked”, he told me gleefully.)

Any hotel room was actually very much like home as long as you had a laptop, a handful of Nick Cave CDs, some Right Guard and a copy of Threads on DVD, which happened to be the exact contents of my overnight hotel bag.

Waking up in another identical Travelodge on another identical Motorway retail park the next day I realised finally that this was literally the worst place for a writer to be during general election month. Nowhere had wifi that worked. It was like being in a bubble of ignorance for 31 days. We had to choose these parks to minimise the chances of the splitter van getting stolen with all of our gear inside it. Every Travelodge we stayed in was essentially the same, surrounded by a handful of other outlets - a Toby Carvery or a Harvester or, if you were really unlucky, both of them. Then maybe also a Costa, a Boots and an Esso petrol station as well. They were all accessible from a motorway roundabout that wasn’t really near anything other than either an airport, a prison or an industrial estate. A vague hangover from reading JG Ballard as a schoolboy led me to believe that there would be some kind of mind-expanding nourishment to be had from this aspect of the venture but these motorway retail parks were all identical. They were the most co-opted and least free spaces of all.

After breakfast, outside, sitting on a wall drinking a cup of tea in the sunshine, I looked intently at a semicircle of rooks surrounding a single bird of their own kind. They were slowly advancing in toward it. The bird in the middle was stock still and not moving. It didn’t look like a friendly encounter. The Driver and the Passenger came out and joined me. The parliament were just about to attack the accused in order to peck it to death but just as the corvine jury bore down, they were disturbed by a loud noise from above. The Red Arrows flew over the Travelodge in formation causing them to scatter  It felt almost as if the Driver existed in a bubble of weird, uncanny, apocalyptic and esoteric events that moved with him wherever he roved. But it was also as if he barely noticed any of them. I stood pointing at the sky.

“Yes, yes” he snapped irritably as if he was sick of seeing this kind of thing. “Let’s get in the van and get off otherwise we won’t get to Digbeth in time.”

That night I dreamt that the solid iron core of the Earth was about to slough us all off until the planet stood raw and bleeding in space, just roiling magma with no skin to contain it. The utter indignity of being born between waves, the scions of a pusillanimous age we were all about to be cast into the void with the filthy scab of a country we called England. A flat and unmagical land. A depressing and tawdry place. When I opened my eyes Toby was stood in the corner of the room, sharpening his cleaver, schnick, schnick, schnick, schnick. Empty eye sockets carved out of rancid, fly-blown gammon.  

“We have to stop eating lunch at the Harvester!” I sprang out of my fold out bed and shouted at the Driver and the Passenger, waking them from their sleep. “The full rack of ribs is fucking killing me!”

Fuck the Harvester. Fuck Toby Carvery. All of the clothes that were hanging off me on May 1 were now snug and it was only May 12. My ears were ringing with the premonition of some future blue cheese dressing related pulmonary event.

It was easy to see how ruinous life on the road could be, even when you didn’t drink or do drugs. I felt sorry for younger bands who felt they had to go out partying every night after shows. After a couple of weeks it must end up hellish.

The road to Hull was paved with UKIP signs. Only Necrosis by Cadaver played at ear disrespecting volumes kept us sane. It was dark as we drove into town and ghosts lined Ferensway waiting to greet me. The cinema where I’d had my first date in town, the pair of us just turned 18 - watching Shirley Valentine no less, saying, “Imagine being that old” about Pauline Collins and Bernard Hill - was now a bingo hall. The war memorial that I regularly drank sherry in front of on a bench. The Welly nightclub where I saw a punter swan dive off a balcony and go headfirst through the corner of a formica table. When they took him out on a stretcher there was a blanket pulled up over his face. And then down past my old house on De Grey Street and into the car park of the Adelphi. And then the ghosts waved us back out of town.

The drive to Great Yarmouth was gruelling and 13-hours long because of traffic - we got stuck behind no less than three serious road accidents. Bodies strewn across baking tarmac. Bloodied travellers weeping in incomprehension at the hard shoulder. Slow moving the traffic might have been but at least we had plenty of long albums to listen to. Just like a mattress in a shared student house or the narrative flow of the Bayeux Tapestry - Kendrick Lamar’s To Pimp A Butterfly sagged in the middle but it was very, very long, making it ideal for the van.

Eight hours later, after the show, we flew down the A47 unimpeded like we were clinging to a rocket, listening to Slayer albums sequentially at full volume, gabbling like a bunch of four-year-olds as we went. By the last day, I felt like I was about to die and constantly on the verge of tears. I didn’t want it to end. It was the best of times. It was the worst of times. It was the worst of times. It was genuinely the worst of all times. And yet I’d crawl over broken glass to be able to do it all again right now.

You know, if you really want to get the measure of a country don’t drive round it. Take a train or walk. Maybe buy a bicycle or a skateboard or something.

We drove 5,000 miles of barbed wire and parked the splitter van by the roadside.

John Doran, Bangkok, Thailand, December 2017

[diivinerose]

Lost boy lost in the woods...

@ruthlessnessisyourdesire​ / plotted starter

It was a sunny morning and Daisy went like every day into the forest with her basket to look out for some food, while admiring the beauty of the nature and taking a walk. The dew was still hanging in the leaves and everything glittered so beautifully in the morning light. Suddenly she heard a low whine, which immediately caught the young girl's attention. With quick steps she tried to find where the noise was coming from when she heard another whine. Her steps slowed and she had pricked up her ears and eyes when she suddenly saw it in front of her. A wolf pup lay huddled between the roots of a tree. Carefully she approached the animal that looked scared at her with its big blue eyes. Daisy put down her basked and approached the pup very slowly with open palms so he could see that she didn't had any weapons in her hand. "Please don't be afraid of me. I am not gonna hurt you." She reached out her hand carefully and let the puppy sniff her hand. She just remembered that she had some mushrooms and berries in her basket and passed them in front of his nose.

Carefully he got onto his little paws and sniffed the food when decided to start eating them. Looks like he was hungry. Daisy looked around. "Why are you here so alone? Where is your mother?" The pup put his paws in front of his face and let out another sad whine. That image was so heartbreaking that Daisy hat troubles not to cry for that young wolf pup. It seems like his mother left him all alone. She tried again and reached out her hand as he allowed her to stroke his head. Daisy knelt next to him and stroked the little wolfs head and back. He was so beautiful. A gray wolf with a white underbelly. Apparently he had found so much trust in her that he snuggled up against her leg and licked her hand. She sat like this for quite a while until she suddenly heard calls from her sisters who were terrifyingly close. The wolfs pup had made himself comfortable on her legs, but in her panic Daisy got up with him in his arms. She was thinking where to hide him but it was already late when Dahlia found her. "Hey Daisy where have you been? We called you the whole time- Hey is that a baby wolf? Daisy immediately turned her back to her bigger sister to protect the little pup of her sister's eyes, but she was faster. Suddenly she was in front. "Wow! That's really a baby wolf! How cool! Where did you find him? He is really cute can I hold him too?" "Okay, but please be careful. He is still scared." Reluctantly, she handed him the pup but he was so joyful that he immediately started to wag his tail as soon her sister cuddled him. "Tell me Daisy, What were you going to do with that cup?" That was actually a good question where she didn't really have an answer to. "I think his mother left him. I thought of taking him home and-" Dahlia didn't let her finish, because she knew where it was going to end. "Are you insane? You know how much father hate wolves. He is a hunter. Do you really think that he is going to allow that?" "What will father not allow?" A third voice and Daisy slumped completely. She hadn't expected her biggest sister. Daniela came up to them both and looked at them before she noticed the gray ball of fur that Daisy had already snatched back from her other sister and pressed closely on her chest. "Oh" Her eldest sister was the spitting image of Dahlia, but they were more different in character than someone even could image. Who would have thought that 13 minutes would make such a difference by twins. Daniela had put it together pretty quickly and her face spoke volumes that she was not quite happy about the situation she just discovered. "Daisy no." "Daisy yes! Stop always being against everything!" Dahlia immediately jumped in front of Daisy and glared at her twin. Daisy felt visibly uncomfortable and even the little wolf felt the tension and started to whine. She pressed him automatically closer. "Stop it you two! You scare him" She immediately stroked his fur soothingly and stood between her sisters. "Daniela he lost his mother and he wouldn't survive out here alone and you Dahlia," she looked at her other sister reproachfully, "You didn't agree with me earlier. You are just doing this to argue with Daniela. Stop being so quarrelsome!" Both sisters looked at her puzzled and said nothing for a long time. Daniela came closer to Daisy and carefully stroked the head of the pup. All this feminine attention appealed to the little wolf. "Okay, please tell me what you have planned Daisy. I'm all ears." And so the three of them sat down on the forest with a little puppy whom they all three alternately gave their love, while they worked out how to keep him in their home without her father knowing about it. They decided to hide him in their room that the three shared. The good thing was that he was very small so it was easy to hide him in the room. It would only get more difficult when he was getting bigger, but that was something to think about later. The three sister went back and Daisy hid him in his basket. Luckily their father was not at home. He was probably in the village to finish a few things. They quickly prepared a little corner for him to sleep on Daniela's bed and gave him adequate food. Since Dahlia and Daisy slept together and Daniela had a little corner to herself, which meant that she had to take care of the little one during the night. They had agreed on everything. Daniela still had slight doubts, but they were gone as soon she looked into the beautiful intelligent blue eyes of the wolf. ~ The evening came and the four of them sat at the table. Their father was the hunter of the village and lived with his three daughters in a small house near the forest. Their mother passed away when Daisy was still small, leaving her husband and three daughters behind. The father said the grace before he shared the bread and began to talk about his day. "You won't believe what I was able to hunt today down." Daisy and Daniela reacted rather passively to their father's hunting successes. Dahlia was more enthusiastic and was not bad itself with the bow herself. She wasn't afraid to skin an animal and clean up the entrails what couldn't really be said about Daisy. "Today I saw a big wolf and was able to kill her! A beautiful gray wolf. You can make beautiful furs out of it or we can sell it to buy something nice for you girls." At the mention of the gray she-wolf, the girls looked at each other and all thought of the same thing. They were quite and let their father continue talking about how he exactly did it. "Who would have thought, but she was recently pregnant. She was about to hide her cubs while I was on the lookout for her. A bow in the heart and she was instantly dead. I also found and killed 3 of her cubs. We don't need any more wolves in the forest." The father was so proud of his achievement that he realised later how pale Daisy got. "Daisy is everything all right?" Daisy was silent and tried not to burst out in tears in front of everyone. With a quick movement she got up from the table and ran out. Daniela and Dahlia gave each other an unmistakable signal and went immediately into action. "I'll have a look at her." With these words Daniela ran after Daisy and left Dahlia with her father. He in turn looked at his daughter questioningly who immediately answered her. "Daisy hasn't been well all day." "If it's been like this all day we'd better take her to the healer." "Father that won't be necessary. You know that Daniela is almost finished with her training. She will handle that. You'd better tell me what you did with all the wolves." ~ Daniela found Daisy sobbing against a tree trunk. When she felt her sister's presence, she turned and clung to her. "How could he do that Daniela? He killed them all! Mother and cups!" Daniela didn't say a word, just stroked Daisy's hair soothingly until she took her face in her hands and brushed the tears away with her thumb. "I know it's terrible. People shouldn't do that and I know it hurts, but always keep in mind that pain can make you stronger. You have to be strong now for the remaining puppy, do you understand my dear?" Daisy had listened carefully and just sniffed. Her sister's words got through and they walked back together avoiding their father for the rest of the evening. ~ There the three of them sat in a circle, late in the evening in their rooms with the little wolf's pups in the middle. They played and giggled softly without waking their father. "Shouldn't we choose a name for him?" The suggestion came from Dahlia. The three of them were in their room and sat in a circle. The little pup in the middle and trying to catch the little ball that three threw at each other. Giggling softly without waking up their father. "A name?" "Yes" "Do you have something in mind?" "Caleb" "Caleb?" Daniela and Daisy saw her sister while Dahlia picked up the puppy and kissed him on the nose. "Exactly, Is Caleb not good?" "No, no Caleb is fine." "Caleb is perfect." "Then it is decided. Welcome to your new family Caleb."

[kekabumi]

by Connie Khong

Growing up in a non-typical Chinese household, Chinese New Year always bring about different meaning to me. Why is it different? Because in the eyes of most Chinese in Malaysia at least, I am considered a ‘banana’. It means I’m yellow on the outside and white on the inside. In other words, I only look the part - but inside, I’m not the least bit.

I still speak a sprinkle of Hokkien in my household. And I speak Penang Hokkien so our Hokkien, similar to our cousins in Malacca, is smattered with Bahasa Malaysia. Except unlike a big percentage of my Chinese counterparts, I don’t speak the common Mandarin or the lingua franca of Kuala Lumpur : Cantonese fluently.

Thankfully, my late Papi's’ family is of  Hakka-Cantonese descendents and accompanied with TVB dramas growing up, I ended up picking up a bit of Canto here and there. Not the best since I don’t speak it as much, but I can still order some food or drinks and attempt some bargaining at the resident kopitiam - teh c ngalat, mm koi!

I didn’t think my Chinese New Year or me not able to speak Mandarin makes me any less Chinese - until I got older and hung around with other Mandarin-speaking friends. It was only then it came to my realisation that I am a bit different because I lack the ability to read, write and speak the so-called common language and that also meant, there is a whole universe I couldn’t access - which is apparently the license to be true Chinese. Nevertheless, I tried not to let these things bogged me down or define me - after all we still held some traditions or must-do things and practices which still hold dear to me - as a true blue Chinese or not.

So here are some things I do know about Chinese New Year!

1. Apa tu makan besar Chinese New Eve?

- Similar to your malam Raya, this homecoming dinner is THE essence of the storyboards you see in most of the Chinese New Year ads. Everyone will gather once a year to catch up with each other. Even if you don’t talk throughout the 365 days, it’s definitely NOT fine to skip the reunion dinner (don't be disrespectful to the food!). This is where the ‘how are you’, ‘when are you getting married and when are you having kids’ questions will be bombarded. But really, whether you’re true blue Chinese or a yellow banana, this means family quality time of coming together - of homecoming. Which is why the dinner is known as reunion dinner, 团圆饭 (tuan yuan fan).

Over the years, I am learning more important vocabulary because it carries much meaning to the things I celebrate and helps me connect with it better - with my roots and to appreciate it all the more.

2. Pantangs are real!

- Well, I’m a second generation Christian and honestly, most pantangs don’t or shouldn’t really apply lah. For your infomation, second generation Christian means that your parents are the first to believe in the household and you’re the second to follow after them. Well, for my household, more than beliefs, it has been customary that we keep to making sure

a) we have lots of red things in the house

b) spring clean wayyyyy before the 1st day of Chinese New Year and that means

c) not sweeping the floor especially on the 1st day (my late Papi insisted on it but my mother cheekily suggested to vacuum this one year when she forgot to spring clean the few days before)

d) putting the (fake) plum blossoms or any other spring items and decorations up

e) the word ‘fuk’ is placed upside down at the door or walls.

3. The upside down ‘Fuk’

Hahaha, nope, not THAT F word but fuk 福. I may not be able to read a lot of Chinese characters because I’m a Kebangsaan kid since primary - but this is one of the few that I know by heart. We will place it upside down and not right side up to invite all the fortune, luck and happiness into the household and then, pour it out to all the guests that enters and leave the household. Another reason why I remember it is because it’s also the same character used for Hok in Hokkien.

4. Khong Family CNY Signature Dish

- Not all family serve the same food you know? Like how we have different versions of Laksa, different household serve different must-have dishes : special to that group. For example, Jiu Hu Char (Stir fried yambean with dried cuttlefish) is a must in my Hokkien household and because we have our Hakka grandmother on my late Papi’s side, we also serve these gorgeous Kau Bak or Khew Yuk : Hakka marinated 5 spice pork belly, steamed with round yam. They are sooooo good - our go-to signature Khong CNY dish!

We would plan what to prepare for Eve, First Day and back then when my Papi and his parents were still around, the 2nd Day family lunch as well. Usually First Day are more vegetarian friendly - because we have had so much meat on the Eve and for the religious ones, they will observe 1st and 15th of the month as vegetarian days so it’s only apt that we try to incorporate more vegetable options as well.

And food have good meanings to them as well - onomatopoeia! So, it’s really common to find Mandarin oranges, pistachios, fish, and certain vegetables like mushrooms because in their Chinese pronunciations, they sound like words that means happiness, gold, prosperity, luck and the likes. That’s why they are a must-serve during Chinese New Year and even more on other auspicious days for the Chinese community like weddings!

5. Red Packets - angpow mana?

- Contrary to popular beliefs, not everyone gets angpow and not everyone gives. The golden rule of thumb, is that if you’re married, then you have to start giving. Because it means, you’re finally an adult and is able to pass on the (financial) blessings to others - especially the younger ones. Well, the amount is up to you - but it really depends on the economy (nowadays, the minimum has increased from the heyday of RM2 per couple or per pax to about RM5 or RM10 these days) but, to be honest, it’s the thoughts that really counts. And while married couples generally don’t receive, their parents still can give to them if they want to. While unmarried older relatives can give money, they don’t put them in red packets. Then there are some practices where the younger but already working siblings will give to their older siblings as a form of respect. Though this is not as common, it’s being practiced. But generally, any older relatives can start giving - and yes, even you - the twenties and thirties year olds, if you’re working and if you have younger cousins or nephews and nieces, you can give them as well. Just don't put them in red packet if you’re not married yet.

6. #OOTD: Colour to wear

- The obvious colour would definitely be red! But anything that represents prosperity, money, luck is good too. So colours like gold, orange (because in Chinese pronunciation, it means gold), green and blue. If these colours are too strong for your liking, you can even opt for pink and salmon. Contrary to popular belief, we don’t all wear cheongsams or samfus during the celebrations anymore. It’s not really a common practice but it's still fun to put it on for the occasion! While most people these days are not as superstitious, to be safe, black and whites are a no-no as they are seen as inauspicious and related to funerals.

7. Balik kampung time!

It’s a common practice for the community to travel or make their way back to their hometown. I believe it’s the same for most of our non-Chinese friends when it comes to their day of celebration. I mean, it only makes sense to head back to where your grandparents and extended relatives are at - and for some, where you grew up in. If you’re married, you would have to follow your husband to celebrate 1st day at his parents’ place and only to return on 2nd day to yours. It's really all about planning so you can celebrate with each other’s family.

8. WIND AND WATER

And this brings me to my 8th (which also sounds like fatt (prosper) in Cantonese) and last point. It’s apt for me to end with feng shui - synonym to all things superstitious Chinese. And how specific dates bring extra ong and huat to you (dates to get married or return to work, hoi gong in Cantonese) in hopes that choosing a good day to do things, it will make everything go well.

For others who believe in feng shui and the likes, the zodiacs and fortune telling is also another important thing to start the year with. Some say if your zodiac is the zodiac year or is against the Taisui (something like a guardian God overseeing people’s fortunes) for that year, you’re going to have a very tough year ahead.

So yes, that wraps up a few of the things I know. I am still trying to learn and reconnect with things that most, if not all, Chinese that still practices even up to this day. And to me, the most important thing is family and homecoming. That’s really the essence of Chinese New Year which lasts until the 15th with more mini celebrations in between such as Everybody’s Birthday (Yan Yat) on the 7th and pai ti gong by the Hokkien community on the 9th and the end of it all, Chap Goh Meh on the 15th night where the singles will head out to the river/seaside to throw oranges with number in hopes to find their potential partner.

So, join us welcome the new year in the lunar/Chinese calendar. And no, for the last time, you can be a Christian / Muslim / Buddhist etc and still celebrate Chinese New Year because you’re still CHINESE.

From all of us at Kekabumi to your family, we would like to wish you a Huat-derful Chinese New Year and may this year brings you lots of joy and prosperity!

[scarletwritingwolf]

The Art of Healing

Previously

Chapter 12: A Most Murtagh Evening

Memories are a most remarkable thing, but rarely are they perfect. The one thing I could be certain about; was that my memory was categorically flawed when it came to Jamie Fraser. I knew this to be true because each time I saw him; it was as though I was seeing him for the first time. Red hair gleaming, his wickedly beautiful smile displaying his perfectly straight, pearly white teeth, the expression on his face; friendly and trusting. For lack of better words, he took my breath away, and I relished in the thought that there would always be something new to learn about him, because my memories never allowed me to remember.

He was coming towards me, looking cool and casual, dressed immaculately in a navy blue suit that was clearly designer. He smiled when he caught sight of me, and took faster and greater strides to reach me sooner.

“Good evening Jamie” I said cheekily. “You, sir, are a little late.” I tapped my watch jokingly.

“I’m sorry, I feel terrible. My meeting ran late, and I couldna shake Murtagh and his questions about what I was doing tonight. I really am verra sorry.”

“It’s ok Jamie, really.” I stroked his cheek with my hand, my eyes lingering on his only for a moment. “Come on, lets go in, I’m starving.” Taking his hand I led him into the pub where he had suggested we meet.

I really wasn’t sure why I led him in, because it was quite clear from the moment we entered that he was very familiar with this particular place. Every staff member greeted him, and even some of the patrons.

I quizzed him, “Is there a reason why everyone seems to know you?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact there is, I own this place. I thought perhaps ye’d like to see it. The food here is verra good.”

“You are full of surprises. I love that you brought me here. I only have one question; is there at least a juke box?”

“Ye willna be disappointed my lady, the juke box is over in that corner there.” He pointed to a modern little box obscured by a group of rowdy Scottish men who appeared to be having some sort of a bucks night.

We ventured towards the bar, where Jamie ordered us two glasses of whiskey.

“What do ye want to eat? I can have them make anything ye like.”

I shrugged. “I’m happy to choose off the menu Jamie, I don’t need special treatment.” He promptly gave me a menu to peruse.

Jamie looked to the bartender. “Whichever drink the lady wants she gets, ok Duncan? Claire I just need to go and speak to the manager, while I’m gone choose a table we can sit at if that’s what ye’d like.”

I waved him away. The menu was quite extensive for a pub, and I was pleasantly surprised to find my favourite dish; pork medallions with mashed potato and a creamy mushroom sauce.

I ordered an espresso martini, and I watched Duncan make extravagant movements as he created it.

“Here ye are marm, enjoy. Will there be anything else?” Duncan asked.

“I’m not sure.” I admitted, I had no idea what Jamie would want, another whiskey?

“Do you know what Mr Fraser’s favourite drink is Duncan? A whiskey?”

“Mr Fraser is partial to his whiskey marm, but he enjoys his beer just as much, he is most fond of Fyne Ales Jarl.”

“Excellent, I’ll have one of those as well please.”

Jamie returned a short time later, his face alight.

“Well what is it then Mr Fraser?”

He looked at me with raised eyebrows and an innocent expression, waiting for me to elaborate.

“Nothing at all Miss Beauchamp, can a man not have secret men’s business.”

I laughed, and I felt myself getting more comfortable in my surroundings with each exchange we had. I removed my jacket as we began to discuss the different types of alcohol he had in the pub, and how he had come to own the pub itself. After twenty minutes I realised that the patrons of the pub had gone silent, and all were watching one of the male staff members wave his arms about.

He began to speak in a half yell. “Sorry ladies and gents, we’re closing early tonight, our kitchen is already closed, we are just havin’ some staffing issues. We’ll be shuttin’ shop in half an hour.”

I glared at Jamie, he returned a wide eyed look and shrugged. I suspected he had something to do with this sudden closure, surprisingly none of the people in the pub seemed irritated with this announcement. There were two other members of staff making individual apologies to each guest of the pub, and they appeared to be handing them something with each apology.

“So what do ye want to eat?” He asked me coolly.

“Didn’t that gentleman just say that the kitchen was closed?” I tested him.

“He did didn’t he? I suppose it’s good that I own this place then. Ye’ll have time to order and get your meal Sassenach.”

My heart was pounding out of my chest, he’d just called me Sassenach. I’d heard him start to call me the peculiar nickname multiple times since we’d been reunited, but he’d been good at catching himself before actually saying it.

“I’m sorry Claire, I didna mean to call ye that. I’ve been trying to forget it was ever something I called ye. Please dinna be mad.” His eyes were pleading.

“I’m not mad at all, it’s just strange to hear the name again after all this time. Please don’t apologise.” I kissed his cheek, trying to ease his tension. I wanted to change the subject quickly. “Any chance of some decent music?”

“Anything for my beautiful guest, but we may have to wait for a while before we hear our choices, the juke box has been banked up with this dance music garbage since those men from the stag party were over there.”

“I don’t mind, I’m perfectly fine with a little waiting, as long as it’s for something good.” I winked at him.

He strode over to the juke box, I watched him the entire time, admiring him. I knew I wasn’t the only one who had eyes on him, but I was content with knowing that each time he looked up his eyes connected only with mine.

“I feel like I’ve made some good solid music choices on yer behalf. Perhaps another drink?”

I had another two espresso martini’s, Jamie seemed to drink his beers as though they were water. I was beginning to feel light headed, I knew I needed food before the effects of the alcohol got worse. I looked about to realise that the pub had emptied at last.

“So lassie, would you like to dance?” Jamie stood above me holding out a hand for me to accept.

As I took his hand and he led me to the dance floor I heard the voice of Kenny Rogers on the juke box, his song ‘Islands in the Stream’ was playing. I stifled a laugh. “A favourite song of yours Mr Fraser?”

“Weel sort of.” He took me in his arms, he was warm, and the buzz of the alcohol seemed to draw me closer to him; I rested my cheek on his chest. I felt the steady movements of his breathing as he swayed gently. “Kenny Rogers and Dolly Parton sang this song together at a show they put together to play for us lads in the army. I ken it’s an old song, but I heard it for the first time that day, and it always stayed with me.” I wondered how much else of his time in the army had stayed with him, I vowed to spend my life finding out.

‘Islands in the stream, that is what we are,

No one in between, how can we be wrong.’

“What do ye think Claire? Can ye live with my taste in music?” His question seemed to be silently asking more than it’s words. I was sure he wanted to ask if I had a desire to be around him long term.

“I am a big fan of Dolly Parton, so I think we’ll get along just fine Jamie.” I hoped that the reassuring smile I paired with my words would help to answer his veiled question. It had never been a question for me, there wasn’t any way for me to live my life without him. We hadn’t discussed our time apart much, it was too painful for us both to talk about just yet, but I wanted to.

‘We start and end as one, in love forever,

We can ride it together, ah-ah,

Makin’ love with each other, ah-ah.’

We danced our way through Frank Sinatra, U2 and a little Coldplay. He had most definitely chosen music to ensure that I stayed in his arms, but I had absolutely no problem with this.

I noticed when the music on the juke box came to an end, but I wasn’t sure that Jamie had, he continued swaying, holding me to him as though he was afraid to let go. I gently nudged him.

“Come Jamie, let’s get something to eat, I’m famished.”

He seemed to come out of a trance, and looked at me with such adoration it almost tore me in two. This gentle, giant soul wanted me, and I knew I could never let him down again.

We sat at the nearest table, Duncan came bustling over with more drinks, while Jamie disappeared into the kitchen with our food orders. As Duncan fussed over pouring drinks, I wondered what Jamie had in mind for the rest of the evening, and for that matter where we stood going forward. The fact that I was even asking myself the latter was a testament to how much had changed in me since I met him, after Frank I had become a strong, educated woman, and at times with Jamie I felt vulnerable, concerned that I would allow myself to go back to a place where I was so undermined by my own feelings. My feelings for Jamie were so intense they terrified me.

I heard him approaching first, and I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, worried that he would read my expression.

“Are you ok Claire? You look...” He trailed off, clearing trying to decide how I looked.

“I’m fine Jamie, just hungry, that’s all.” I took his hand, drawing lines over his prominent veins with my thumb. I had been about to ask him what his plans were for the remainder of the evening, when his head suddenly snapped up to look at the door. It hadn’t been locked, the closed sign was most definitely visible, but the man walking in didn’t seem to care much.

“Ah there ye are lad.” The man in question clearly knew Jamie.

“Here I am, Murtagh. What can I do for ye?” His tone sounded playful, but his stance gave him away, he was concerned about this Murtagh being here with us, or more so, with me.

“I just wanted te see this lassie for myshelf.” He slurred the last words, obviously intoxicated.

Jamie not letting his good manners slip said “Claire this is my Godfather Murtagh, sometimes I just call him Uncle. Murtagh this is Claire.”

“A pleashure to meet ye Claire. Are ye havin’ a good time with young Jamie here?” As he asked, his eyes pierced mine. His purpose was quite evident; that was to interrogate me.

“I am, thank you.” I responded politely, being very careful to keep my tone light.

Jamie kept our fingers interlocked, wanting to keep a protective hold, but he was feigning a casual demeanour as he sat back in his chair. He was waiting, I just wasn’t sure what for.

Murtagh continued. “I’ve known Jamie since he was a small lad ye ken, and I would do anythin’ for him. I want him te be happy, I willna ever begrudge him tha’, but I want ye te understand that if ye hurt him again ye will be sorry.”

“That’s enough Murtagh. Ye’ve had too much to drink man, go home. I dinna need yer protecting.” Jamie was doing his very best to conceal the snarl in his voice. “ “Claire isna out to hurt me.”

“Aye sometimes I think ye do lad.”

I wasn’t sure what to say, I could feel tears welling, but I forced them to abate. Jamie’s grip on my fingers tightened.

“Ye’ve talked about what she did te ye have ye then Jamie? What it did te ye?” Murtagh was plainly on some sort of crusade.

“We’ve settled it Murtagh, now that’s enough.” He got up, taking his Godfather by the arm, and dragged him towards the door. “Ye need to leave, we will talk in the mornin’.”

Jamie closed the door, pacing next to it, running his fingers through his hair. I got up to go towards him.

“I’m so sorry Sassenach, I didna mean for that to happen. He’s drunk, and too focussed on my life. He willna disturb us again.” He looked truly remorseful.

“It’s ok Jamie, but I think I’m just going to go home, I’m exhausted and it might be best that you see your Godfather home safely.” I wanted time to be alone for a little while, so I could get over the sting of Murtagh’s words. I ran my hand across Jamie’s cheek reassuring him. “We should meet tomorrow Jamie, I thought perhaps we might talk properly about our time apart, so we might put it to bed so to speak.”

Jamie hesitated, I knew he wasn’t sure what to do. “Ye are a good woman Claire, I dinna want ye to be worried about what he’s said, he’s just a silly old coot.” He bent to kiss me. “I’ll come to get you tomorrow, we can talk when you feel like it. But I want ye to understand that I’ve put it to bed already, there isn’t a need for ye to feel guilt.”

As usual it was as though he could understand what I felt without my saying so.

“I’ve been thinking that I’d like ye to meet my sister and her family, if ye want to.”

“I’d like that Jamie, but warn me if I have more scorn to look forward to won’t you? Just so I know to pack my armour.” I grabbed his tie and kissed him back.

[ccorinnef]

The Art of Living Plant-based

Something you may not know about me, most likely because I don't tend to talk about it unless necessary, is that I eat a plant based diet and try to live as vegan as possible. When I was in university, I made the choice to start eating a vegetarian diet. I think at the time it was mostly for financial reasons (still living that poor student life, ayyy) although I was also learning more about animal rights. I realised that the most powerful thing I, as a nondescript and (mostly) insignificant human, could do was to choose what I spend my money on and 'vote with my money' as it were. I've never been naive of the connection between what was on my plate and the animals I saw everyday in the countryside, however, I no longer wanted to support those industries that exploit and make commodities of animals for financial profit. Animals are living, breathing, conscious beings and they should in no way be thought of as a commodity to have ownership of, so I stopped eating meat.

And then, exactly one year ago, I stopped eating dairy and eggs. Cheese and eggs were the hardest things to stop eating but I am an all or nothing kind of person and once I had made the emotional connection between the food and the animals suffering they never tasted that good any more. I also really enjoy feeling like a rebel, in the most ridiculous and tiny ways possible so if I think of my purchase as supporting arrogant, rich arseholes to continue being dickheads then I immediately change my purchasing practice. As a whole, I didn't find dairy difficult to stop eating, my sister has been allergic to dairy since she was a baby so I grew up on dairy alternatives and label checking. After I had stopped eating dairy, I did continue to eat eggs for a few weeks but we just stopped buying them so I stopped eating them. One of the best things that I've experienced since I've been vegan is that my eczema is so much better, I no longer get massive flare ups, sore red patches or extensive dry skin! I don't have to put eczema creams on everyday anymore, and mostly just use a moisturiser. Its actually a massive relief to no longer constantly think about my skin.

It's kind of strange to think that I've been vegan for a year now. I definitely never thought that I would ever go plant-based, but I love it and wouldn't live any other way now. I completely avoid anything with animal products in and I try to avoid products and brands that are tested on animals as much as possible, however, our budget does sometimes restrict our choices. I think what a lot of people say is true: once you align your lifestyle with your morals you live far more mindfully and often can't help but avoid products that cause suffering. Veganism is so important for any chance of saving the planet; the leading cause of deforestation, resource use and harmful gas production is animal agriculture. 

Here's some tips I have learnt over the past year:

eat the same food and meals you have always loved to eat - just find a vegan alternative or a plant based way of making your favourite food

learn how to skim-read labels - most allergens are in bold such as MILK, EGGS, BUTTER, ETC, but remember to check for other animal based ingredients such as gelatin, whey and stock, etc

teach yourself some core recipes that you love to eat, off by heart, so you don't need to constantly check recipes every time you cook

some meals can have the exact same ingredients but if you change the herbs and spices its a totally different meal - i.e. bolognese and chilli

mushrooms

grate courgette and/or carrots to bulk up your (previously) mince based recipes

nutritional yeast and liquid smoke are literal game changers

people aren't as negative and judge-mental as you think - especially in restaurants and cafes, veganism is more widely known as a dietary option now and it is okay to ask to make sure your meal is vegan. I've been in cafes were the menu items were only vegetarian at best but on asking the waiting staff if the cook would be able to not include the cheese I've been told "Of course! The cook is vegan too, let me go check with them, they might have something they could substitute in the back!" 

veggie haggis is delicious

Here are some of my favourite recipes:

Rosemary Focaccia

Mushroom Rolls

Lentil Ragu

Mushroom & Walnut Bolognese

Tex Mex Sweet Potato Skillet

Spanish Chickpea & Spinach Stew

Bourguignon

Maple Parsnip & Chestnut Wellington

Tenderstem & Peanut Noodles

Roast Butternut Squash & Sprout Salad

Chocolate Pie

Asparagus & Mushroom Risotto

Smoky Aubergine Tagine

Jollof Rice

Sesame Crusted Hoisin Tofu

Apple Bundt Cake

Cookies

Butternut Squash Soup

[sinesalvatorem]

During my mushrooms experience, I managed to examine my life in a lot of detail, and kind of see it from off to the side. Processing it at that time, and then a little bit afterward, allowed me to come to a somewhat novel-but-true conclusion.

My life is currently not worth living.

Like, I usually don’t consider that much. After all, most of the time my internal experiences aren’t that bad. If I were purely concerned with hedons, there might be an argument to be made that right now is OK and that I should only be worried when the trend line crosses zero in a few months.

But there’s also some deeper sense of “Is this a life you would choose to have instead of not existing in the first place” and... I can’t really say that I would. Honestly, if I knew about it without living it, I’m reasonably confident I‘d be too scared to. I described my life to my friends who were with me while I was tripping, and they seemed to be absolutely awestruck by how horrifying it is.

And the problem here is powerlessness. I basically have no ability to make it not terrible, because every lever to affect my situation is just out of reach. Like, I can’t get a software job and move out unless I can program well, which I can’t do unless I can do deep work, which I haven’t been able to do for months because life is hell.

Meanwhile, I can’t get a low paying job unless I’m not homeless, because I need to be able to turn up to work consistently, which I can’t do when I’m running away from home every two weeks. A few weeks ago, after finding that I didn’t have a hairdresser’s appointment I thought I did, I wound up talking to and being informally interviewed by someone at another nearby salon. And I actually wanted the job.

Unfortunately, when she asked for my address, I remembered that I didn’t have one in the way that mattered, and that I couldn’t actually take this job. And I was depressed af, because I knew this was true of any job that didn’t pay enough for me to immediately gtfo and rent somewhere. Likewise, I don’t know how to not miss doctors’ appointments or any other kind of appointment.

At the same time, I have no energy. I have but a shadow of my usual verve for life, which I realised when most of it came back briefly during the mushrooms experience. All the energy I have goes into treading water. Into somehow not dying even though I have no home and barely have access to food and have a digestive disorder and have run out of cellular data and have about two hundred dollars in net assets and every now and then people with power over me decide they want to hurt me for one reason or another and there’s nothing I can do about it. Making all that work consumes me and leaves behind kind of an Alison-shaped shell who’s still able to smile, but largely because I need to smile to eat.

And I have no reason to expect this to get better. In fact, it’ll probably get worse with time? Most of these conditions are degenerative. My house becomes more toxic by the day. Bad diet leaves me more and more exhausted. Having even $200 at this point is due to stochastic charity. Those who are pleased to hurt me get better at it the more they practice. And I do not have the spoons to counteract even one of these effects, nor are any of them likely to just expire soon and free up energy to deal with the others.

If I had a housing situation that I could actually live in for more than days at a time for free, I could get a minimum wage job and live comfortably enough to start the recovery process, and maybe be a person again at the end of it. If I had a high-paying job, I could just pay rent and have money to live on, and then I could likewise start recovering. In either of these situations, I would also need to find a way to put up insulation between myself and abuse, but that seems pretty plausible with the power of money.

But I’ve known this was true for months and tried to figure it out for months and just... can’t. Free housing is unsuprisingly sparse, and getting a job at Google would first require me being able to do deep work again, which would require not living in hel- whoops. And, to the extent that I’ve looked, there don’t seem to be any handholds out of this equilibrium. But maybe I haven’t looked enough because I can barely look around while treading water. Which is again my problem.

And really deeply understanding how fucked and degenerate and nonviable this equilibrium is is how I came to realise that it’s worse than nothing. I’m not OK with slowly dissolving away. With being poisoned by those who want me to be emptied out and hollow. With having no agency because every choice is reactive.

I don’t have any plans for suicide. I continue to find it unlikely that I would kill myself, because I’ve just never been the type, I guess. Recognising you’d be better off nonexistent isn’t the same thing as taking any particular action. There’s no sense of urgency, or even depression qualia. I feel pretty much normal.

But at this point my rational mind has come to an unusual-but-reasonable conclusion. My life is below zero. It’s been that way for a while, and I’m heading nowhere but down.

[twistednuns]

August 2019

India // It’s incredibly hard to sum up my feelings about India and Nepal. It was a truly incredible trip. And so exhausting. It was enriching, interesting, hard, disgusting, educational, everything. This is not the place to talk about my experience at length so I’ll just write down some nice moments I collected along the way //   

on the go // the huge corner toilet at MUC airport departures / Rischart coffee / the smell of the Emirates airline NOIR lotion they offer in their bathrooms / cherry-flavoured Skittles //    Delhi // brightly painted buses and tuk-tuks / eating at AB veg restaurant in Hauz Khas, inredibly delicious and cheap / being lucky enough to choose the hostel in Hauz Khas village; meeting Dominique, Christie, Ayush, Samar and Julia / all those talks we had about linguistics, education systems, the future, politics, travelling, home, friends, experiences with magic mushrooms, Hannah Arendt, travelling (…); talking to Christy about her past, family, criminal record / Mosambi juice / Nici constantly flirting with me, trying to seduce me. She told me I’m posh, assertive, regal and I know myself very well. Making out with her was fun but honestly… not worth the drama. / Mosambi juice / a consultation with a renowned Ayurveda doctor - I loved talking to her even though she wasn’t able to tell me anything I hadn’t known already; sometimes it’s nice to get the confirmation that what you found out on your own is exactly the right thing / eating momos and Kathi rolls, the best Thalis / parties on the rooftop until the sunrise interrupted us; grilling whole fish, saying goodbye to Julia, singing along to Louise Attaque and Cher songs / riding rickshaws through Delhi; extra fun: squeezing 5 people in and listening to club music / the sheets smelling chalky with a hint of grape sugar / dancing at Raasta / petting cute street doggies / a cooking class with Mansi and her family in North Delhi - delicious food and really nice people, I fell in love with the mum / eating at Social (that building is just amazing) and strolling through the little alleys and stores at Hauz Khas village with Christie; she showed me the place where she got her linnen dresses and we talked to a jewellery store owner for quite a while / the spice market, climbing up a building and watching the men flying their kites, tasting some street food and spices, realiszing that there is a market street dedicated to a single group of things like the shoe market, the jewellery market etc. / the Brit Brats sharing their joints; tripping to Bayonne / the hidden merchant streets with colourful wall art around the entrances / PANEER (!) / stand-up comedy with a female comedian / elevator selfies / learning about the development of Indian scripts and letters/characters in Sanskrit in the National Museum; erotic sculptures, very detailed paintings depicting badass, tiger-hunting ladies / I saw a peacock. Cows, chipmunks, pigs, horses, monkeys, goats, guinea pigs, bunnies, cats and dogs, bats, herons, boars, caterpillars, centipedes, horses, donkeys (…) / finding the perfect triangular earrings with gemstones at the Dilli Haat market; getting some nice dresses, too / living on water and mango juice, feeling very light and clean, having an empty stomach all the time / Gandhi Smriti, retracing Mahatma’s last steps before his assassination / feeling human again after a few days in bed - I love the power of make-up, bananas, fresh clothes and those pink little Pepto-Bismol pills the Canadian lady gave me / Delhi central station; just WOW. It’s places like that which make you realise just how many people there are in India. //   

Rishikesh // the man helping me with the bus to Rishikesh; the kindness of strangers / “I thank the Lord for the people I have found” (Elton John - Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters) / emotional bus rides: crying for no reason, letting go, for the first time in a very long time; emotional turmoil, softening up; leaving people and whole countries behind / seeing the huge Shiva ceremony at the Ganges from the bus / my yoga teacher training, getting to know the other students / learning about a magic trick against bad posture / instant karma / the view from the rooftop, watching the sunrise over the lower Himalaya mountains / the simple, vega, ayurvedic food they offered at the ashram / visiting the temples with the apprentice yogi and his scooter; walking up 13 stories in the blazing sun, receiving a blessing and some red string around my wrist; taking part in the Ganga ceremony at sunset / the Beatles Ashram; it’s just this amazing place with incredible street art, and those ruins, the meditation caves and eggs on the rooftop… climbing up there was one of my highlights in Rishikesh / close second: visiting a meditation cave at the Ganges, a bit further up in the mountains; a monk had spent 15 years in that cave practising meditation / all the beautiful shops around town focussing on yoga accessoires / putting my feet in the Ganges #blessed #moksha / learning about my aggression during silent yoga / all the animals around town: horses, donkeys, cows, monkeys and whatnot //   

Varanasi // taking the night train for the first time; I shared my little compartment with a family and three little children but they were surprisingly dramafree and actually quite cute / a sunset boat trip on the Ganges, seeing the ghats, the ceremonies, the moon rise / the little alleys behind the ghats; the stores, the surprises / Marnikarnika Ghat was really impressive; it’s the cremation place and I saw dead bodies for the first time / accidentally discovering the Dirty Chai Cafe (chocolate peanut butter shakes and fresh, cold mint lemonade), finding a Kamala Das poetry book on the shelf / spending an afternoon with the German journalist (so weird how the atmosphere shifts when you’re accompanied by a man there; also our dynamic made me feel so glad to be travelling alone, to only be responsible for myself, to be independent); sharing a banana and water surrounded by goats in Hanuman Ghat; the view over the river from his room; him gently stroking my cheekbone / buying two saris in a little corner shop / my jewellery quest (unsuccessful) / eating fresh fruit salad after hardly eating solid food for days / checking out that little park on my last day, the air buzzing with dragonflies / watching the sunset from the hostel’s rooftop, filming a slow motion video / India brings out trauma and deep emotions; the people kept staring at me for whatever reason; I kept having disturbing dreams about my dead father and grandmother; and the mob-video Christy showed me didn’t help either (the whole village carried a man through the streets, eventually beating him up because he couldn’t pay off his debts) //   

Nepal // the first view of Nepal from the bus windows - how much greener, how much emptier it is than India / meeting some nice people on the bus - an American, a Brit and two Frenchies; grabbing dinner in Kathmandu with the latter / watching the sunrise at the border between India and Nepal / sitting next to the mayor of small town council on the bus ride; communicating with hand and feet / the Kathmandu valley is such a gorgeous sight / I got lucky with my hostel; Yakety Yak was a really nice and quiet place to stay; they even had laundry service and a shelf with free books - I read two or three of them because I behaved like a good (home)sick German abroad: bed, Haribo, carbonated water, trashy literature / visiting Bhaktapur, a gorgeous small town in the Kathmandu valley / watching the latest Tarantino movie at the cinema; the tickets were incredibly cheap / walking up the hill to the temple and the monastery, enjoying the incredible view over the surrounding hills; meeting two ladies from Austria, they live close to my old university town; walking to the centre through back alleys, stopping at a rooftop cafe, ordering three drinks at once (liquid diet) / that one jewellery store near the Pokhara bus station - I found some gorgeous brass rings with precious stones for little money / the busy square, the markets / hanging out in the hammock in my hostel in Pokhara, overlooking the lake / watching the skydivers land / the ayurvedic cafe and the other place serving smoothie bowls by the lake - it’s such a fantastic moment when you finally feel hungry again and eat a little solid food after fasting/suffering for a few days / two incredibly weird guys from Latvia and Berlin who provided a nice, mellow ending for my shitty day and even made me survive the mosquito attacks / meeting my travel agent who actually took me out dancing and gave me a ride on his motorcycle to the bus stop; he even gave me some fruit for the ride / By the Way starting to play while waiting for Vietnamese food / hunting down a place that sells semi-precious stone columns in Kathmandu; negotiating with the old lady selling them; getting some brass souvenirs for my friends and family / the view from the airplane - seeing the Himalaya for the first time; I pity people who’ve stopped looking out of windows //   

Coming home. I’ve NEVER felt happier entering my apartment after a trip. Being alone. Truly alone. Silence. Three rooms just for me. My bed. Having all my stuff back. Toiletries! Nice body lotion. My favourite perfume. Going to the supermarket. Unpacking all the jewellery, clothes and knick-knacks I bought. Taking care of my plants.   

Making a huge batch of my favourite ratatouille / pasta sauce.   

Visiting Manu in hospital. Cheering him up a little bit.   

Finally receiving my black and white analogue photos. I loved the shot of Andre looking like he’s being kissed by a dementor. And Lexi looking dead cool at ADBK.   

Pizza party at Grano with Lena. Eating sorbet out of a lemon.   

Riding my bike through the forest on a sunny morning. Stopping to take pictures of the beautiful light, the yellow flowers. Spending too much money at the garden center. Driving home, IKEA bags full of plants.  

 Inventing my signature manicure: a little black dot just above the nailbed.   

Having an evening beer outside at Sofa So Good with Andre.   

Stumbling upon Konsti. The one who ghosted me years ago after a beautiful summer spent kissing in lakes because his therapist had told him so. Well, we talked for a few days, but guess what - he just ghosted me for a second time. Fool me one - shame on you. Fool me twice - shame on me.

[driftwork]

in the rain, difference of couples (3)...

The morning began with blue skies and fair weather cloud, she woke early and thought he was coming home today. She went into the office around ten AM in time for a quick espresso and  meetings, discussions of a two new projects, presented by programme managers and a brief  third meeting with the head of security.  Afterwards she sat on the sofa outside her office and chatted to her PA...

It started to rain in  the the late afternoon.  She was glad she had taken the afternoon off and had ended up working at home,  because the rain was so heavy that after an hour the roads were running with water and the gutters were turbulent streams running down hill. What had seemed like solid bodies, really slow moving fluids, had transformed into fast moving liquids. Water was beginning to cascade into the flower beds in front of the house, the drainage systems  (were) fighting a losing battle against the flow of water/rain. She ate crisps, some fruit and drank tea and waited. (She had long thought  that they had not waited for external forces before deviating from their previous path(s). Deviation had occurred spontaneously,  with no cause and no end, two singularities colliding in a hotel (she smiled at the thought) is the clinamen that would cause her to be standing in the porch many years later looking at the rain and waiting for him to return. An accidental meeting, a week spent together and so years later she was standing here watching the rain, waiting. )

  She hadn't gone to the airport to meet him this time. Earlier in the week on Tuesday morning She had dropped him off at terminal 5 and he'd said that he would take  a taxi home from the terminal taxi rank, rather than have her waste time waiting in the airport for his inevitably delayed flight. She always worried when he was away and she was unable to protect him,  just as he knew that he had to go away on these work trips to protect her, them [...] Rain drops falling through the atmosphere, deviating from their trajectory a little, swerving, just so much as you might call a change of motion. This, she knew were (the) drops falling in space who collided out of need, necessity and desire, me and him,  I and him, fluxions falling together. I am desperate to protect him and them and he is equally desperate to protect us.

The children were back from school now. She stood by the window listening to the familiar noises of the house, dominated at this time by her eldest daughter playing japanese pop upstairs whilst doing her homework, she could hear her younger one playing some  computer game in the library. Even if his flight was on time the earliest he could arrive would be in a few hours time. She felt uncertain and restless and  really didn't understand why. She had a pile of discarded sentences and phrases that she had thought of over the past few days to explain  what had happened, what she was going to start doing. She imagined that he would want some form of explanation, but had none to give. She had never been very good at explaining her actions,  things just happened and even now she never really understood the events. The movement of bodies, events was she thought a liquid model...

An hour or so later,  having made the children something to eat, stir fry with pieces of salmon in mild goju flavored sauce, with thin egg noodles,  she was back in front of the window.  It was still raining, possibly harder than before, it was a real gale now with high winds. Everything was black with rain, cascading down in the light from the LED street lamp, occasionally raindrops merged with other raindrops causing them to become solid and heavy,  whilst other drops split and the separate drops headed in different directions, still cascading through the light from the street lamp  or striking the window. The cars were driving slowly in the rain, The few pedestrians were leaning into the wind to maintain an upright stance.

Her younger daughter wanted pudding, an extra dessert. She gave her some chocolate mousse, hearing this the older daughter emerged from in front of the TV, laughing she gave her some to.  The TV was full of news about the storm, they had given the storm a woman's name, which all the presenters had adopted. Why do they anthropomorphize the weather, she wondered. The south coast was flooding  due to the very high tides, a tsunami running up the channel eastwards. The power was off on some of the coastal towns. Flooding was already happening  in some places to the south. The journalists who were reporting on the events all had heavy waterproofs on and were speaking into specially shielded microphones, still they appeared to be very happy, only getting serious when they spoke about the costs of the damage and the personal injuries.

She looked up the flight details on the net,  she could see that the flight had been delayed by an hour but was now enroute to london. He phoned up as she  was reading this explaining that they were about to take off to fly to london. He told her that he was looking forward to getting home and that he'd grabbed a sandwich to eat whilst waiting to take off.  See you later he said I'll hang up first he said. She realised she hadn’t mentioned what had happened. It was pitch black now, the branches of the tall cherry tree bouncing up and down, back and forth between the house and the street light. There were no cars or people outside now. She had originally thought they might eat together when he got back but it was going to be to late now so that she decided to eat something. She didn't know what to make and  regretted not eating with the kids now. She found some udon noodles, put some water on to cook them and chopped up a part of a red pepper, a similar amount of yellow pepper and some green leaf things,  a handful of king size prawns. a mushroom or two and prepared some sauce with red miso paste. cooked, fried in sesame oil ... She sat and ate at the table chatting with her daughters who came into the room to inspect the food she was eating.  They tried a prawn or two coated in the sauce, taking them from her bowl.

They asked if their japanese aunt was coming to visit over the weekend? I think they are travelling here on the same plane as your dad. Do you have any homework to finish?  No already done it, tomorrow is jeans friday her older daughter said. Is that why I had to wash them all, so you could choose? Yes... And its crisps friday. Her younger daughter said with glee.   Are we going to the dojo tomorrow after school ? Yes, I thought I might stay to watch. After she has eaten she is in the library checking messages from work when Jimmy Ruffin begins to sing "What becomes of a broken heart " - she dances and and becomes aware that her daughter is watching her dance from the doorway.  ("Not exactly mum dancing..." she thinks as her mother flows back into an upright position, and laughs) It was getting late and she she sent them up to prepare for bed.... It was as always a slow and civilized process. Ending with taking a glass of water to her younger childs bedroom and tucking her into bed, chatting about school again, she was asleep ten minutes later. The older child went to bed around 9.30 and she left her reading upstairs. A sign on the door saying no entry in English and Japanese.

Sometime later there was a message on her phone.  The flight had just landed and he would be back in an hour or so, Because they were so late they were being hurried through passport control and customs. And outside  the same rain is there again the perfect representation of declineation, like the drops of rain.  She thought that Heraclitus was wrong to say 'No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it's not the same river and he's not the same man.'  For its always the same rain and always the same man. There we have it.

She turned on the TV.  A woman was standing in front of a map explaining where the storm front had come from and the direction it was heading, out across the north sea towards mainland europe. The worst was almost over but there would be high winds and some rain for the rest of the night and the next day. She ignored the rest of the news and comment and turned the TV off. Made a cup of white tea and read a couple of essays on Hegel before going upstairs to go to bed. She fell asleep on the bed the book open beside her, the sidelights still on, Her silk pajama jacket was open exposing the part of the dragon tattoo that ran beneath her breasts and curled round onto her back. She woke to the sound of the taxi, car pulling up in front of the house. She knew it was him, she went downstairs, past her daughters rooms, downstairs to the front door where he was fumbling with his keys and opened the front foor.  He just stood there,  his grey suitcase next to him. she stepped towards him. Put her arms around him and kissed him. A sudden gust of cold wind  blew some rain drops onto them. "Ï am so tired he said..." he said. She pulled him into the house like a flow of liquid, a stream, a cataract, a horizontal gesture of relief and shut the door behind them.

Would you like something to drink ? She asked him. And some thing to eat, he said, the food was terrible on the flight. She made some white tea and gave him some suchi rolls from the fridge.  He told her about the delays, how they'd stayed on the runways in Geneva and in london for ages. waiting for the window in spacetime to clear for them. Nobody knew what was going on, he said.  I was thinking we would be stuck in Geneva all night. At least I had some decent clothes to relax in. She asked if it was raining in Geneva... No he said, down the hill is becoming flooded and some parts of the motorway are beginning to flow with surface water. He told her that the Japanese police were on the flight, an american (businessman ? perhaps not)  had been trying to talk to him until Sik emerged from first class and said hello, suggesting they have a drink as there were some empty spaces. The american looked a little worried. I wondered why... I drank water and juice. Your sister was asleep on the couch looking like royalty. She is royalty. She is  coming round on saturday night. She said.  What does that make Sik? He wondered. In Europe he’s the praetorian boyfriend, i don't know about back there. They drank some vodka, and went upstairs to bed, taking his suitcase upstairs.

She lay on the bed in her silk pyjamas, the buttons beginning to fall open again.  Watching him produce three boxes from his luggage he began talking off his clothes, I told you the buttons were too small on those pyjamas when you bought them... Doesn't matter as only you ever see me in them.  She could feel the fear and concern vanishing probably with the buttons opening she thought.... She told him she was very pleased he was back, and whispered that she loved him  in his ear. He laughed. Happy to be in bed at home.  He was asleep almost immediately after turning off the light. She decided she'd talk to him in the morning about the changes she wanted to make in her life, their lives and  lay in the dark listening to the silence of the house for a few minutes  listening for intruders before falling asleep and dreaming of killing people. Not waiting.

(Whilst the others around them were governed by the  principles of inertia and bodies, the singularities did not wait for external forces before under going a deviation from their path(s). )

[datinglove07-blog-blog-blog]

10 Online Dating Tips for successful start in new romance

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10 Online Dating Tips for successful start in new romance

Online dating is not what it used to be. If you were to say you met your husband online 10 years ago, people would probably think you’re a lonely, socially-awkward nerd that spent too much time on the internet. But today, almost 80% of people have tried online dating or at least once had an account for it. 

It’s hard to just randomly run into your Mr. Right on the street. Online dating platforms provide you with the best chance to meet someone that’s a perfect fit for you as you can clearly state what you are looking for! No time-waster!

Still, approaching someone on the internet is different than if you could present yourself in real. Being nervous is just normal. Now we will give you the 10 best tips when it comes to online dating so you don’t have to worry about saying the most awkward thing when you feel the butterflies in your stomach!

Let me get this perfectly clear, this is by no means asking you to be someone you are not by approaching the one you like! You should always be who you are but you should also remember that when you are talking to someone new, it’s a courtesy to try to make them feel as comfortable as possible.

If you are talking to someone super academic and elegant, starting off the conversation with a hobo joke might not be the best idea even though you think dark humor is your strongest trait. You definitely would want to ease it in so the person can discover and appreciate your beauty instead of just scaring them away.

Know your audience. If you can see that he/she posts a lot of outdoorsy stuff or is always cheery, try starting the conversation by asking her if she has tried a certain type of sports! If the person is very much into music or guitar, ask him/her what’s their favorite Pink Floyd album! 

Online dating is easier and harder than real-life blind dating because it could really go both ways. You have one chance to win the person’s heart. If you say something wrong, they could just easily ignore you and not reply. But at least you can have all the time you need to construct the heart-capturing first line!   See what you two have in common is very important. It’s always a good conversation-starter. Ask them what their favorite type of mushrooms is if you both love spending time in nature! Finding someone to appreciate your interests isn’t that easy, especially if you are into someone niche or just not mainstream. Besides, it’s also nice to know that someone shares your love and you can just spend the whole night talking about it! 

Starting the conversation with funny jokes is outdated! The new way is to ask a funny yet serious question. The question you ask may make the person laugh, yet at the same time, the person probably doesn’t know the answer to the question too! It will arouse the person’s curiousity in finding the answer and at the same time want to know the person that asked the question more!

“What is the difference between pepperoni and salami?” That’s a question that I’ve been asking for many years now. I choose not to Google it because I do want to see if someone knows the answer with high certainty. And I can tell you, after 5 years, I haven’t met one single person that can say for sure what that difference is, or they realised that their answer was wrong.

This may be a silly humour but hey, it’s a genuine question and maybe you two will be the one to figure out the answer!

First dates can be nerve-wracking. You don’t know what to expect. You don’t know how to behave. You don’t even know what you should truly be doing on your first date. First dates are different for everyone so to be fair, no one single rule can apply to all. It’s the first time you will meet in life. Anything can happen.   But that doesn’t mean there’s nothing you can prepare for that special first date of you and your potential future partner in life. Here are some great tips that you should read about before going on your date!

A lot of people think the movie theatre is a good first date because it’s dark and romantic. It’s the first time you meet, do you really want to spend 2 hours in a dark room where both of you have to be silent? You barely know each other and you probably will just end up wondering if you should give some reaction during the whole movie.

The point of meeting up for the first time is to get to know each other better to see if you are truly compatible! If you have to spend the whole date not talking to each other, might as well just go home and text! 

Go out and talk to your date. Go for a hike if you are both nature-enthusiast or walk around a book fair if you both share an interest in words. Always go for a date where you can actually talk and get to know each other. You don’t want to end the date night learning nothing more about that person you just went out with!

Depending on what you will be doing on your first date, choosing the right outfit is very important. You can be a sloppy person and believe that this is your charisma and the person should like you for it. This is, of course, true, in the end, they may love you for who you are. However, you have to know where you are right now.

If the person invites you to a classy opera in downtown and you show up in baggy jeans and hoodie with a cap, that’s not about being who you are anymore, that’s just disrespectful, period. Know what you will be doing is really important. You need to show your date that you respect yourself, and of course him/her.

You don’t have to dress like you are going to a Christmas ball, but definitely know where you are doing and what you will be doing before deciding what to wear on that special night!

Something as small as a rose can go a long way. It’s a nice gesture that everyone loves and most certainly will add more brownie points for you! You don’t have to get something super fancy or expensive as you don’t want to look like you are trying to buy your date and a nice gesture shouldn’t cost you your house!

Homemade chocolate is always a good idea. It’s thoughtful and sweet and it will most definitely bring up a smile on your date’s face! 

After you have decided what to do on your first date, you will need to think about the opening line when you meet each other for the first time. Should I start it off with a joke? Or should I ask about their day? There’s always the uncertainty.

Here we will give you some ideas on what to talk about to wow your date away! 

You don’t want to spend the night of just you or your date talking. You want to bring up the atmosphere! Tell your date the best part about your life, something that will make you smile then let them talk about theirs! 

Some people just love arguing, it’s understandable. But rarely do people like a ”know-it-all”. If your date has something to share but you don’t agree with, instead of going straight at it and tell them they are wrong. Try to package it like you have heard it different elsewhere and would like to hear more on why your date believes in a certain way. 

Respect is important. You barely know your date so you certainly don’t want to make them feel stupid because for all you know, maybe they are the smart one!

There’re always questions that are better to ask before you two become official because then, you are just chatting, no responsibility, no pressure!

Ask them how their previous relationships ended and why. What do they find important and how do they see relationships? Be understanding when you ask these questions. Your date will see that you truly see something in them instead just having them around to pass time. You can create an image of yourself that you can be committed and do want something from it if you find the right one. That’s very important if both of you are looking for something serious.

You don’t have to know what you will be doing in 10 years but everyone has a dream. Share that! It’s all about being personal and sensitive when you are on a date! You share and talk about your life!

Tell your date what you want to be doing in the next 5 years and your dreams. Opening yourself up is the key to let someone in. This will help your date to feel closer to you and create the bond between you.

Online dating begins with talking to strangers, people that you have never met in life. The key thing is to stay positive and not let people bring you down even when they’re being rude or just ignore you. You meet all kinds of different people in real life, just like on the internet.

Always be nice to people you talk to because even if you don’t end up dating, maybe you will end up finding a good friend in life! 

If you are still scared about going for an online date, just remember that each day, more and more people out there are enjoying the most romantic time of their life, thanks to online dating! It’s never easy to meet someone you don’t know. It can be overwhelming as you just don’t have a clue what to expect.

These 10 tips are definitely a good start for you to think about how you want to present yourself and who you want to be with your date. Get out there and make someone as happy as you are! Good luck! 

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