natural burst

UPDATED: HOE PRODUCTS

I’ve been seeing a lot of these posts with the same damn products on all of them and I really feel like we’re recycling the same shit and there’s nothing new to read anymore which is part of the reason I made this account, to add my own remedies and routines in hope that it could help someone else~

African black soap-
Lemme tell you right now. Ditch whatever shit you’re using as a body wash RN and go cop some (RAW) African black soap. That shit is natural and is bursting with vitamin A and E. It helps with eczema too. I personally use Alaffia which also contains Shea butter and I use it everday. Love it and love my skin+it smells super fresh

Apple cider vinegar-
Add abt ¾ of a cup of ACV to your bath and let it work its magic. Its anti fungal and battles against body odor. It makes your hair shiny and is considered a skin detox bath, I personally experience softer skin. ALSO it resets your pH and fights again vaginal odor and yeast infections naturally too.

Jojoba oil-
Jojoba oil is the oil that everyone thinks coconut oil is. It is a natural moisturizer for hair and skin and it works way better than coconut oil could ever hope to do!!

Coconut oil-
Let me tell u something. In a previous post I copied a message on of my followers sent me abt coconut oil being horrible for your hair because it breaks down proteins. It got a lot of positive and negative feed back, some saying I was trying to speak for them or leave out black hair, no that is not the case. I simply copied a message and released it for public knowledge cause im here to HELP YOU NOT HURT YOU! I’m sorry if I offended anyone~ but coconut oil, regardless of hair, is not the angelic product everyones made it out to be. STOP PUTTING THAT SHIT ON YOUR SKIN IT CLOGS PORES. I use it to oil pull, its a natural way to remove the toxins from your mouth and it also whitens your teeth. You put abt a teaspoon or less of coconut oil in your mouth and swish for a minute or 2. Love that shit my teeth are so white. But other than that I wouldnt put that shit on my hair or skin, unless you’re shaving your legs or sometin. Although I do put it on my pussy after I shave and idk what i’d do without it. But coconut oil is NOT for everything.

Rose water-
Sorry for the extremely long coconut oil excerpt lol this one’s short. Rose water can be used as a toner/makeup setter. It controls oil and hydrates your skin. It also has antioxidant and antibacterial properties. Its also good on dry/frizzy hair

Castor oil+Vitamin E oil-
Another 2 great oils. I’m lazy and didnt want to make another 2 oil sections lol but basically castor oil can be used on eyebrows/eyelashes to thicken them. Its also a natural laxative. Vitamin E oil is a great hair/skin moisturizer and heals scars.

Biotin-
If you arent taking biotin everyday I want you to go to your local pharmacy and cop a bottle because beauty starts from the inside. Its a hair skin nail vitamin and boosts healthy growth of hair/nails and keeps skin healthy. I do love it.

Charcoal soap-
Instead of using a typical bar of soap, invest in a charcoal one instead. Charcoal contains a powder called Binchōtan which cleanses and moisturizes skin. For all u natural bitches out there.

Also a lil side note~ for anyone who wants to comment to mine or any other ‘hoe tip’ posts saying “these are life tip not hoe tips” SHUT UP! We know! But these tips were originally for tips and products to be as sexy and well maintained as they can be. Usually before somekind of sex appointment. Let the hoes have this instead of trying to shame it

SEVENTEEN when you share their bed after a nightmare

Wonwoo:

He would remain calm on the outside, politely letting you lie next to him. However, panicked and messy thoughts would actually be encompassing his brain, and his heart would be beating faster and heavier every time you inched closer to his side of the bed.

Originally posted by visual-17

Jeonghan:

He’d find it so cute that you came to his dorm in the middle of the night, and so for a while he wouldn’t be able to look at you without bursting into naturally-occurring nervous laughter. Of course, he would secretly be ecstatic that you chose him.

Originally posted by jeonghney

Woozi:

This little baby really wouldn’t know what to do at first. He’d have trouble finding the words to answer your cute descriptions of your nightmare, and would instead resort to wrapping his arms around you tightly, teddy-bear-like, and telling you softly that everything was gonna be okay.

Originally posted by mountean

S.Coups:

This boy ain’t playing no games. The moment you slid into his bed, his male testosterone would kick in, and you’d have no escape. It would begin with him wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you every so slowly towards him, so eventually your back would be pressed against his chest.

Originally posted by imbangnzelo

Mingyu:

I gotta say, Mingyu would also be feeling the tension heat up in that bed. It would take longer for him to make the first move, but it would happen, sure enough. He’d stroke your hair a little awkwardly, and move on to placing comforting kisses on top of your forehead.

Originally posted by gyuniku

Hoshi:

Naturally, Hoshi would be super nervous about having a girl he’d had a crush on for so long visit his dorm room. He’d start questioning you frantically, asking you if someone had dared you to come, or you were faking the nightmare. Eventually, he’d calm down, and agree to let you slide into bed with him.

Originally posted by visual-17

The8:

He’d definitely be feeling pretty awkward about it, but agree almost immediately. He’d stay up with you until ungodly hours, waiting for you to calm down and sleep again. He’d make sure you got most of the blanket, and the softer pillow, too~

Originally posted by luhan-bee

Dino:

It wouldn’t be a big surprise to him to see you enter his dorm room in the middle of the night. Without a word, he’d let you climb into bed with him, taking your shaking hands in his own and kissing them softly, all the while holding you tight against him, his heat radiating onto your skin.

Originally posted by tekukii

Jun:

He’d be insanely awkward and hesitant about it at first, paranoid about what people would think if they heard that the two of you spent the night together after you claimed to have a nightmare. He would settle down quickly though, understanding your situation and inviting you to lie next to him.

Originally posted by mimimochi

Seungkwan:

He’d have no problem at all, but would instead be worried about what he should say or do. He’d go buy you a hot drink in the middle of the night to relax you, and let you stay under the duvets for as long as you needed, still in shock from the fact that his crush had chosen to visit him~

Originally posted by sailorsoonyoung

Vernon:

He’d take the opportunity of you being scared to tease you for a while, just sitting back and enjoying your cute face whining at him and pouting. He’d smirk a little, and then pull the covers up without a word, inviting you to join him underneath, in the almost pitch-black room.

Originally posted by lonexsamurai

Joshua:

You will have definitely woken him up from a really nice, deep sleep, so he may appear a little unresponsive when you come up to him, whimpering about your nightmare. In order to keep you quiet to maintain his restful state, he’d place your head against his chest and lull you to sleep like a baby, stroking your back.

Originally posted by koraenpop

DK:

He’d be so flattered that you’d come to his room, especially as you were his hardcore secret crush and all. He’d give you all the space you wanted, and would stay up to talk to and comfort you until whenever you so desired, eventually dropping off to sleep, his hand mid-stroking your hair.

Originally posted by visual-17

4

A comiXologist recommends…

LETTERS FOR LUCARDO Vol. 1

Ed Fielder is a 61-year-old scrivener at the palace of the Night Court. Ed is quite mortal, something that’s not a given in this world. Ed is so dedicated to his work that he barely notices when his most frequent client, Lucardo Von Gishaupt, one of the immortal and forever-young aristocrats, flirts with him. 

Lucardo is a handsome man with enticing eyes, and Ed wonders why such a man of high rank would ever want to be with him. But after Ed’s initial hesitation, their romance blossoms, which causes friction in Lucardo’s family, who are not too pleased to see their immortal son spending his time with a mortal. Especially a mortal nearing so close to his twilight years. And Ed has to overcome his feeling of inadequacy while being around people who have not only lived a life of luxury he cannot understand, but who also joke of drinking blood.

Letters for Lucardo is Noora Heikkilä’s first in a four-part series focusing on these star-crossed lovers of the Night Court. The book is masterfully illustrated and the characters are portrayed as real and vulnerable. The scenes in the Night Court, with veiled figures enshrouded by candlelight, are intriguing. But Heikkilä truly shines when it comes to how natural a simple laugh bursting out of Lucardo feels. Or how palpable the dawning horror becomes as we watch Ed realize he has woken up in the bed of Lucardo’s father, The Lord of the Night Court.

The romance of Lucado works because Heikkilä has created an intriguing world and characters we come to adore. Any fan of romance, vampires, or court intrigue will find something to love here.

(This is an adult graphic novel. It contains adult situations and content, and is inappropriate for anyone under age 18.)

S.M. Vidaurri is a digital editor at comiXology. He is a cartoonist, a musician, a writer, and is the human subjugate of three beautiful cats. You can find his work in Adventure Time Marshall Lee Spectacular, a comiXology Original.

Shoma’s Quadruple 2017+Plus Interview

Interview conducted in January 2017, published in Quadruple 2017+Plus magazine in February 2017.

“A 19 Year-Old’s Ideal and Pride”

A new era of men’s singles skating has arrived—the competition heats to astronomical levels as the amount and type of quadruple jumps swells.
Uno Shoma has not changed his stance on wanting to be competitive in artistry—continuing to devote himself fully in that area.
With his perseverance as a source of strength, this 19 year-old is carving his own path.
Working towards his ideal level of skating—this national champion is always giving his all.

Keep reading

45. “I had a nightmare about you and I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

A/N: I don’t know what happened– I went to save the ask as a draft and it disappeared. So sorry, I do not know who requested this! Please comment and let me know. I found it! @mazikeen Thank you for the prompt! A/N2: Another drabble! I hope you like it. :)

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For a moment, Thranduil looked fierce, a wild thing protecting his territory.  It was the dead of night, and his door sidled open, softly, but Thranduil’s keen hearing detected the sound.

Ready to expel the bold intruder who dared to enter his rooms unbidden, Thranduil stole out of his bed and into the shadows, shrugging into a robe as he did. Peering across the darkened room, he saw a slender figure and gasped, recognition slackening his scowl–

“Legolas?” Thranduil asked, as he stepped into the swath of moonlight on the floor.

Legolas started in surprise, then hurried towards him, his eyes round and worried.

“What are you doing up at this hour?” Thranduil asked. There was no good reason his son should be awake now, and so he frowned as Legolas raced across the room.

“Ada,” Legolas said with a fraught expression, and launched himself at his father, clasping him tightly.  

Thranduil was stunned, but bent to encircle his son in his arms, holding his beloved child close.  Legolas made little gasping noises, burying his nose into his middle, and Thranduil realized he was crying, though trying very hard not to.

It pained him some to discover that his son felt he should hide his feelings from him.  Even a few years ago this wouldn’t have been true.  Legolas’s happy and inquisitive nature overrode any shame he might feel, but nothing could change the fact that his elfling was growing up.

Somewhere in the transition from child to adolescent, Legolas had learned to be self conscious of his emotions. Joy still shone through– the child couldn’t help his nature– like sunshine bursting free of the clouds, but in learning discipline and order, he thought to stifle his other feelings.

From watching me, Thranduil thought. He felt sorrow for it, but he knew no other way for a king to be.

Thranduil’s astonishment at his son’s outburst, yielded to concern. What monsters had hurt his little leaf? Thranduil would slay them all. “What is it, ion-nin?” he asked, smoothing his hand over Legolas’s scalp, resting at the base of his neck.

“I am sorry,” Legolas whimpered.  “It is very childish and stupid, my lord, but I cannot help it.”

Thranduil’s heart hurt to hear Legolas addressing him formally, to show respect and put distance between them that propriety dictated.

Legolas was at that age between childhood and young adulthood. He strove everyday to act grown up, yet was still a child.  It was very important that he be taken seriously, and he would be wounded if Thranduil dismissed his feelings.

“It must not be either of those things to upset you so,” Thranduil replied. “Tell me. I will not ridicule.”  He pulled back enough to crouch at Legolas’s feet to better see his face, and held in his surprise when he realized how tall his son had grown. In another year or two, he would be too big for such a gesture.

“I had a nightmare about you,” Legolas whispered, “and I just wanted to make sure you are okay.”

“What did you dream about?” Thranduil asked.

Legolas was quiet for a long moment, only shaking his head as he gathered his thoughts. Thranduil waited as patiently as he could for his son to speak.

“I dreamed I was in the woods, playing,” Legolas said, then frowned. “No, not playing– on patrol.”

Legolas was too young to go on patrol. It would be another twenty years before he reached the age of maturity, but Thranduil did not interrupt him with that fact.  

“You were on patrol, and then what?” Thranduil prompted.

“There was a stag and I followed him, chasing and laughing with the other elves. We ran through the woods, hardly noticing when it got darker,” Legolas said, “but it did.”

“I didn’t see the pit and I fell down and down impossibly long until the sky was ash and the air thick and I landed in mud. I was surrounded on all sides by muck and swamp. I saw the stag, his great antlers protruding from the mire. He was sinking. I lumbered towards him but was weighted down by the mud, water, and marsh plants. I couldn’t reach him in time. He sank under.

“When I got closer–,” Legolas’s voice choked off. Emotion warred across his face as he struggled to remain composed, but ultimately Legolas lost to it, his brow creasing in anguish as he heaved a sob.

“He’s you– the stag is you. You’re floating under the water. And I can’t– I can’t reach you– my hands are bound, held back by the weeds, my feet rooted by the mud– and you’re under the water– I can see you, but I can’t touch you. And you’re sinking, and so still, and floating away from me and I can’t– I can’t–.”

Thranduil threw his arms around him and pulled Legolas close. “Shhh, it’s alright,” Thranduil soothed. “You have me now, my love.”

Legolas wept openly, wailing dolefully into Thranduil’s neck.  The king swayed his child tenderly, trying to soothe his anguished heart with a strong embrace and gentle reassurances.

Legolas’s dream summoned images from his own memories.

The Dead Marshes, Thranduil thought and went still. Dagorlad.  

Elven history was part of Legolas’s lessons, and the young prince was just beginning to realize his father’s part in it.  It had been amusing when Legolas realized just how old his father was, his scant three decades of life uncomprehending of multiple millennia.

However, there was nothing amusing about this.

The battle of Dagorlad marked one of the most harrowing times in his long life. Thranduil could not think on it without feeling intense pain in his heart. The knowledge of this history should have been imparted on Legolas with great care, if not for his own young mind, but out of respect for Thranduil.

How Legolas learned about this without my consent, I do not know, Thranduil thought. There are more pressing concerns at the moment.

Thranduil’s mind raced, but there was no time for his own grief. Legolas was distressed and needed him to be present right now.

You were dead,” Legolas whispered. “I was too late. I was useless.”

Thranduil sat back on his heels, pulling away only enough to look into his eyes. His son could not know these words echoed his own from thousands of years ago on that battlefield when he’d found Oropher’s body. They were destructive, and useless words themselves, with no place in Legolas’s young mind.

“You had a bad dream,” Thranduil replied. “But that is all it is. I am not dead, nor are you too late, nor are you useless.”

It was obvious anxiety caused Legolas’s dream, his young mind reeling from what he had learned, the horror of it too much to process.

“I do not know what I would do if– if I lost you, too,” Legolas said through his tears, and he heaved an ugly sob into his arm.

Thranduil felt his own sentiment rise up, tightening his throat, but he swallowed it down, focusing on the fierce love he had for this little elf.

“You will not lose me, my love,” Thranduil said, rubbing up and down his arms, trying to comfort his son, but his words had the opposite effect.

“You cannot promise!” Legolas cried, yanking his arms free. “Nana died. Your ada died. I read about it in the book! What could stop you from dying next?”

Ah, my little scholar is reading ahead of his lessons, Thranduil thought. When Legolas was curious about something, he could be as persistent as a dog with a bone. Perhaps Legolas had thought reading about war would prepare him to be a soldier. Lately, he had been very interested in what grown ups do. Thranduil would have to remember to ask him about it later.

The Dead Marshes were macabre even to the most dauntless of soldiers, let alone a child with a vivid imagination. Corpses drifted in the murky water, anchored by rotting weeds that sprouted up like gnarled hands to tether the bodies an easy length from the surface, taunting the living with failure and loss. Despair dwelled in that moor, its legacy of sorrow bequeathed to all who had looked upon it.

Thranduil had many sleepless nights after he had returned from the Dead Marshes on a fool’s errand to see if Oropher floated among the disturbed bodies there. Though he had blessedly not found his father, what Thranduil had seen would haunt him for the rest of his days.

This is not the way I intended for Legolas to learn about his grandfather, Thranduil thought. I need to mend this if I can.

Thranduil remembered all too well the pain of losing his home, of losing his father, of losing his comrades, of losing his wife– so much loss in his long life, more than many elves experience.

I must banish my own bereavement from my mind, Thranduil thought. I must not dwell on my losses but instead on what I have learned from them.

“Without you, I’ll be all alone,” Legolas whispered, blue eyes round, and red-rimmed with tears.  “What would I do if you weren’t here with me?”

Thranduil took Legolas’s hands in his own, squeezing gently.  Such a stricken question from one so young, Thranduil thought. Elves were supposed to live for all time. That they did not, was the great tragedy of their kind.

“We cannot know what life will bring us,” Thranduil said. “It is okay to worry sometimes, Legolas. You are more capable than you realize, But there are some things we cannot control.  All we can do is enjoy life one day at a time, the best we can. Will you try to remember that?”

Legolas sniffled and nodded, and gasped, “I will try. But I am afraid, ada.”

“It is alright to be afraid, Legolas,” Thranduil replied. “We may lose people we love, but we will never lose the love they leave behind. As long as you remember that, you will always have me, and your naneth.”

Taking shuddering breathes, Legolas nodded, attempting to accept his father’s words.  “Nana loved me,” he said. “I know that. I remember.”

“You are dearly loved,” Thranduil replied.  “You are my heart, ion-nin.”

A smile brightened Legolas’s face. Throwing his arms around Thranduil’s neck, Legolas flung himself at his father, hugging him with all his might.  

Thranduil chuckled and held onto him, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.  “One day, when you are older, I will tell you about the war,” Thranduil whispered, “but for now, slow down.  Do not rush these years.”

Legolas was a sniffling, red faced mess, gasping and wiping his wet face on his sleeve.

Resisting the urge to gather Legolas up in his arms and hold him like he had when he was toddling, Thranduil instead tugged gently at his hand.

“Come with me,” he said and guided Legolas towards his bathing chamber.

Thranduil brought a handkerchief to his face, prompting him to blow his nose. Pouring cool water into a basin he soaked a cloth and washed Legolas’s face, trying to ease some of the tension in his tiny brow.  

It had been a while since Thranduil had cared for Legolas like this. Feelings of both shame and pride rose up in him. How long it had been, but Thranduil was here for his son now when Legolas needed his father.

“How does that feel?” Thranduil asked.

“Better, ada,” Legolas replied.

“Drink all of this,” Thranduil said handing him a glass of water, and Legolas gulped it down without hesitation.  

When there was nothing more to do, Legolas looked away and fidgeted, reluctant to leave. Perhaps Legolas felt he was too old to ask, even though Thranduil could tell he wanted to, so Thranduil asked for him, “Would you like to stay with me tonight?”

Relief flashed across Legolas’s face and he nodded with vigor, taking Thranduil’s hand in his own. Thranduil smiled and led Legolas into his room.  

Legolas hopped up onto the bed, bouncing a few times on the large mattress before settling into the side where his mother used to sleep. A smile curved Thranduil’s lips as he watched his son perform that lighthearted action, realizing Legolas was starting to feel better.

Thranduil shrugged out of his dressing gown, and laid it over the back of his chair, then climbed into the bed next to his son. No sooner had he laid down, did Legolas burrow closer to him, wriggling like a worm until he was safe in the sheltered space between Thranduil’s arm and side.

“Good night, ada,” Legolas whispered, yawning into his chest.

“Sleep well, ion-nin,” he replied.

Sleep would be difficult for both of them to come by that night. But as they lay in the bed, warmth pooling between them, Thranduil took his own advice and simply enjoyed being in the presence of his son.


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If you want to request a drabble, the list is here.

Home, part two

Pairings: Peter Quill x Reader, Steve x Reader

Warnings: mild language

A/N: This was only suppose to be a very long one shot. No beta this time.

Summary: Your best friend in the whole galaxy is coming to visit to help out with Thanos. When he arrives, Steve finds himself jealous of the close relationship Peter and you have. Will this stop the man from telling you how he feels? Will old feelings be brought up once Peter arrives? Does first love truly fade?    Part One

Keep reading

Ruki and Reita discussing pubes on the radio

The theme of this month was “First Times,” or in Ruki’s words, “Virgin.”


Reita: *is already laughing* Okay I want to read something now, can I?

Ruki: Ah, yes.

Reita: A scary story.

Ruki: Ah–!

Reita: …Can I?

Ruki: Yeah, I mean, it’s summer right? Go ahead.

(*In Japan ppl say horror is good to read/watch in the summer bc it “gives u chills” and cools u down…i know)

Reita: Ok here I go

(sinister music starts playing)

Reita: “My ‘First Time’ story is getting a summer cut.”

(long pause)

(both start giggling) 

Reita: (laughing) “Recently…my friends were like (laughing) …you don’t trim…!?” (laughing) – Ok hold on a sec (laughing) 

Ruki: This is a scary story??

Reita: Nah (still laughing smh) My plan was to read it super seriously and you’d be like “This isn’t a scary story!!” (laughing) Sorry, it didn’t work. It’s not a scary story.

Ruki: Oh, it’s not!

Reita: (laughing) “My ‘First Time’ story is getting a summer cut. Recently I was talking with my friends about it, and they were like, ‘what, you don’t trim it!?’ and they were really surprised. Some people do V, I, Y, O, or permanent hair removal, but I’m all natural. ‘Nature.’” (*he says the word ‘Nature’ in English)

Ruki: Ahh HEHEHEHE

Reita: “But recently I learned that even out of natural girls, there are some who trim it and some who don’t do anything.” …Wait, how can you call it natural if you trim it? “My friends recommended I try it because it feels fresh/clean, so I did it myself and it feels really nice, it’s cool and breezy. I want more people to know about this, and I’ve been recommending it to all my natural friends. Which do you guys like – permanent removal, trim, or natural? This isn’t meant to be a dirty question btw.”

Ruki: Oh, it’s not dirty?

(both are thinking very quietly)

Ruki: …..What’s ‘O’?

Reita: Well, probably……..an ass…..sort of….situation…..I think.

Ruki: Ah-! …Wait is she talking about pubes?

Reita: Yes….it’s a dirty question.

Ruki: Yeah, eh…even if it wasn’t mean to be sexual.

Reita: But it is sexual.

(both laugh)

Reita: So, what do you think? Do you like permanent removal, natural, trimmed..?

Ruki: Ok so…..basically….natural is like….you’re just letting it grow all over?

Reita: Yeah, you’re just letting it grow naturally. 

Ruki: Hmmmm….and then there’s….I? Y?

Reita: V, I, Y, O.

Ruki: V…I….I (*he makes some comment about ‘I’ I don’t get it :c)

Reita: (bursts out laughing) No no no..!!! That’s not what it is!! What are you standing on your head!?

Ruki: HUHUHUHU

(both laugh) 

Ruki: Wait…are they asking which one we like?

Reita: Yes.

Ruki: But with ‘Nature’…

(Reita bursts out laughing again)

Ruki: Doesn’t it depend what it looks like?

Reita: Like ‘Nature,’ but there’s not much hair, or…there’s a lot of hair…

Ruki: Or like, brown hair…

Reita: (laughs) So you like natural? 

Ruki: Well, yeah, but….hmm……*mumbles* shhved psssy

Reita: What? 

Ruki: Hairless….I wonder what hairless [pussy] is like.

Reita: Oh, you don’t like it hairless?

Ruki: No, I don’t know.

Reita: Yeah, what’s it like (laughs)

Ruki: Does that count as a summer cut?

Reita: Isn’t that permanent removal? When it’s all smooth

Ruki: All smooth…I wonder what that’s like?

Reita: Well, people do do it. 

Ruki: Ahhhh….look at us talking about this all serious.

(both laugh)

Reita: Ur face (laughs)

Ruki: But yeah hmm I don’t know…for girls…they must feel like they don’t really need it there.

Reita: I don’t know…if they need it or not idk man

Ruki: Well I mean, girls shave their armpit hair too, you know? Probably not their face….oh, do you know any girls who have facial hair?

Reita: Huh? I don’t know.

Ruki: My class president…was a girl. But she had a beard. 

Reita: What, like baby hair?

Ruki: Yeah, a beard of baby hair. 

Reita: But as she got older it probably went away.

Ruki: Oh really…why do u even know that?

Reita: (laughs) …So which are u bitch take a side!!

Ruki: Ehh take a side…….

Reita: You don’t want to?

Ruki: Yeah…hmmmm….I guess ‘V’. 

Reita: No, not that. You have to choose from three. Hairless, natural, or trimmed

Ruki: Oh, trimmed, trimmed. 

Reita: Oh, trimmed? Okay, so like –

Ruki: Trimmed, but also natural. 

Reita: Oh, a natural trim.

Ruki: Hairless, like…..no way. Never. 

At this point they compare bald pussies to the following:

Ruki: But yeah I have to go with trimmed. Or shaved a bit just to give it a nice shape.

Reita: You’re like picking all of them!

Ruki: Yeah I don’t really care tbh.

Reita: (laughs) Tru.

Ruki: What about you?

Reita: Whatever makes her more embarrassed. If she’s more embarrassed without hair, I want her without hair. If she’s more embarrassed with hair, I-I…want her with hair. 

Ruki: What about like, she only shaves the middle like [this guy]

Reita: Omg stop…like u put some designs in there

(both laughing) 

Ruki: We sound like perverted old men now 

Reita: We do?

Ruki: Yeah we’re getting too excited

Reita: No no no, when perverted old men talk about it they’re just being pervs, we are talking about it in artistic way.

In-Laws

“Your mother is impossible!” Fleur stalks across the spare bedroom, hands pressed firmly against her thighs in tight fists. “How can one woman be so insufferably overbearing?”

Nym smirks as she closes the door quietly behind her, casting a silencing spell. “Calm down, love. Mum means well, and she loves you, she can just be…”

“A judgmental beast!” Fleur whips around, her eyes blazing. “Merde, if I have to hear one more insult about the way we are raising Teddy, I will- and the way she does it is so infuriating! If I say anything against her, I am the one who looks like a fool.”

Nym bites her lip, struggling to hold back her laughter. “What’d she say this time?”

Fleur narrows her eyes, nostrils flaring. “Oh, you know how she is, she never comes out and says anything overly critical, just a million little digs. ‘Teddy seems a bit thin, perhaps I can owl you some recipes, he eats so well when he visits me.’ Or, ‘I clipped an article for you from Witch Weekly on tips for disciplining your child without pushing him away.’ Or how about the lovely, “I see you let Teddy keep his nose morphed all day today. We always stressed the importance of natural beauty to Dora, but I suppose veelas have a different perspective on what counts as natural.”

A burst of laughter manages to escape, and although Nym tries to cover it with a cough, she is not successful. Fleur looks ready to explode at any moment. Quickly, Nym strides over to her wife, ignoring the huffing noises Fleur makes as she turns around dramatically, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

“C’mon, love, Mum’s a bit much, but she means well. No one thinks you’re a bad parent. To be fair, Mum’s like this with everyone, not just you.”

Fleur sniffs and rolls her eyes, though she does not protest when Nym sneaks her arms around her waist and places a kiss to her neck. “You must admit, Nym, she is hardest on me. I don’t see her criticizing Remus or Sirius half so much.”

Nym hums as she places another kiss behind Fleur’s ear. “That’s because Sirius is her cousin, and Remus is so laid back that I’m not even certain he’s listening to her half the time. You’ve got some fight in you, love. You and Mum are too alike- stubborn, smart, strong, a bit too outspoken for your own good sometimes-”

Fleur is laughing quietly now, turning her head so her lips can meet Nym’s in a soft kiss.

Maman? Are you in there?” A small voice is calling at the door, accompanied by light knocks from hands that can’t quite reach the door handle.

Oui, mon biquet, your Mum and I are in here.” Fleur untangles herself from Nym’s embrace, opening the door with a flick of her wand. She kneels down, allowing Teddy to run into her arms, nearly knocking her over with the surprising force of his tiny hug.

“Padfoot said to tell you that Grandma told him that it’s time for pudding. Padfoot said I could choose three kinds of dessert since I ate up all my supper, but Dad said that was up to you, and then Padfoot said something about giving Dad an extra special dessert later that made him go red and then Padfoot laughed and Grandma yelled at them both and can I please choose three? Just for today?”

Fleur smiles down indulgently at the wide brown eyes staring up at her, shining with excitement at the thought of so many sweets. “Well, mon biquet, did you really eat all of your supper? Even the green beans?”

Teddy nods solemnly. “I did, even though Grandma boils them too much and they get squishy. I didn’t make any faces, I promise, and I told her I liked them, to be polite like you said I should be.”

Fleur’s eyes fill with tears as she pulls Teddy into a tight hug, burying her face in his curls. “You may have three things for dessert today, mon biquet. Now run along to the table before Padfoot eats all the best cookies, yes?”

Teddy lets out a happy whoop as he runs out the door, tripping slightly as he rounds the corner. Fleur sighs as she stands up, blinking rapidly and taking a deep breath. She smiles at Nym, grabbing her hand and leading her out the door.

She stops before they exit the room to whisper in Nym’s ear. “I love you, you know. Perhaps you will be getting an extra special dessert this evening as well, oui?”

Nym grins wickedly as then walk down the hall together. “I don’t know if I deserve it. I told Mum her green beans were rubbish.”

5

As Midsummer is coming around I wanted to write about it but quickly realised that it would make a very long post, so it will be done in parts. This is the first one.

Scandinavian Folklore Midsummer 

The Basics

In mid-June, school is out and nature has burst into life. It seems like the sun never sets. In fact, in the north of Scandinavia it doesn’t, and in the south only for an hour or two. This calls for celebration!

Midsummer is a national holiday that is still celebrated in most of Northern Europe. The holiday is celebrated on or very near the summer solstice on the 23th of June, when the sun never sets and the nights are light and warm.

Apart from Christmas, midsummer is the most important holiday in the Swedish calendar. And for some, the very most important. In Sweden the Midsummer is such an important festivity that there have been serious discussions to make the Midsummer’s Eve into the National Day of Sweden, instead of June 6th.

According to Christianity, the purpose of midsummer is to honor John the Baptist, but it is highly doubtful it started out as a Christian holiday considering that literally everything a midsummer celebration entails is pagan as hell.  European midsummer-related holidays, traditions, and celebrations are pre-Christian in origin, with the Scandinavian Midsummer being mentioned in the old Icelandic sagas (800-1000 AD) .

The solstice itself has remained a special moment of the annual cycle of the year since Neolithic times. The concentration of the observance is not on the day as we reckon it, commencing at midnight or at dawn, as it is customary for cultures following lunar calendars to place the beginning of the day on the previous eve at dusk at the moment when the Sun has set.

The successful midsummer never-ending lunch party formula involves flowers in your hair, dancing around a pole, singing songs while drinking unsweetened, flavoured schnapps and downing a whole load of pickled herring, sill served with delightful new potatoes, chives and sour cream. The traditional accompaniment is a cold beer and schnapps, preferably spiced. Every time the glasses are refilled, singing breaks out anew.  The Vikings like their drinking songs, and the racier the better.