tedious journeys

Why do people still take drugs?

The drugs are as old as humanity itself, and they certainly fulfill something of immense value. I am against drugs, but my being against drugs is for the same reason as for thousands of years people have been addicted to the drugs.

It may look very strange. The drugs are capable to give you a hallucinatory experience beyond the mundane world. That is the experience that is being searched through meditation.

Meditation brings you to the real experience, and drug gives you just a hallucination, a dream-like experience but very similar. To meditate is difficult.

The drug is cheap. But the attraction for drugs is spiritual.

Man is not satisfied with his mundane existence. He wants to know something more. He wants to be something more. Just the ordinary life seems so flat, so meaningless, that if this is all then suicide seems to be the only way out of it. It gives no ecstasy, no joy. On the contrary, it goes on piling you up with more and more misery, anxiety, disease, old age and, finally, death.

From the cradle to the grave, the ordinary life is just a drag. People go on living it because they are cowards. Otherwise, they will commit suicide. They don’t have the courage enough to commit suicide. But this is not something one can rejoice in.

You can drag on but you cannot call it living. There is no dance in it, no color in it. It is just a vast desert spreading as far as you can see, with no oasis anywhere.

I am reminded of one of the dreams of Leo Tolstoy. It is a rare dream. It is also unique that it went on repeating continuously almost his whole life. As long as he could remember, the dream was happening. And the dream is very strange.

In his dream he sees a vast desert and two gumboots without anybody in them, just the two gumboots without any feet inside them, are walking. They go on walking and they go on walking, and there is no end to this walk. The desert is endless. And he always woke up perspiring, his heart beating louder, gripped* with great fear.

Without going to any psychoanalyst, he knew the meaning. He himself was a genius. He knew that this is his life, this is not a dream. It is not even symbolic. It is exactly his life. Where he is going? Wherever he goes he will end into the grave. Who is going he does not know. The gumboots are empty.

He is unaware of anybody inside. He is unacquainted of the person who is wearing the gumboots. He is invisible. All that is visible is the gumboots and the desert, and the tedious journey, pointless, meaningless.

This is the reason that drugs have attracted man since the very beginning. And they have at least given him a temporary relief. Only a few people tried meditation. And my own understanding is, these people also tried meditation because drugs at a point become useless. You become immune.

In the beginning, they give you tremendous experiences, but soon they become almost part of your body chemistry. Then if you don’t take them you are in trouble. Your whole chemistry wants them. If you take them, you gain nothing.

You go on increasing the doses.

In India where the experiments with drugs must have been the oldest, because the oldest scripture in the world is Rigveda*, the religious source book of the Hindus, it talks about a certain drug, Somras*. Because of this Somras*, Aldous Huxley has called the ultimate drug one day, when LSD is refined and there is no side effect, it will be called Soma. The name is from Rigveda*.

Rigveda* according to Hindus is ninety thousand years old, and nobody has been able to prove that they are wrong because their arguments for its old age are almost irrefutable. They are not logical, otherwise, it would have been easy.

They are astronomical.

In Rigveda* there is a description of a certain combination of stars that had happened according to modern astronomers also ninety thousand years before.

Now there is no way for the people who were writing Rigveda* to describe it in absolute detail unless they have seen it.

Now, this is such an evidence that you cannot do anything about it. The astronomers say for ninety thousand years that combination has not been again in the sky. So certainly whoever was writing it was fully aware of the combination of stars at that time.

For ninety thousand years Hindus have accepted drugs almost as part of their religious ceremonies. It was only under British regime that drugs created trouble, but because they were part of a religious ritual, which is the ancientmost religion in the world, even the British government was afraid to interfere with it. It continued. Even in my childhood, all drugs were available in the market. There was no question of any illegality. And every school of Hindu religion was using drugs, but they were using it in a very scientific way.

They will give the drug in a certain quantity, create a certain experience in the man, and then when he will come out of it will tell him that, “This was only an illusion. It was simply because of the drug, because of the chemistry, your mind experienced.

"Would you like to experience it in its reality? If the illusion is so beautiful, you can think how much more the reality would be. And the experience created by the drug lost for few hours, and again you are back to the same old rotten world.

But if the experience is real, it is yours forever. You never lose it. It is not something that has happened to you, it is something that was already in you; you have discovered it.”

So I don’t see that it was wrong to use drugs in this way. In fact, this should be the approach around the world for the modern man.

And now we have more advanced drugs, synthetically made, and we are capable of purifying them more. We can make drugs which have no bad effects at all. We can make drugs which are not addictive. And we can have in every hospital, in every university, a certain department which teaches people how to move from drug to meditation.

Just to talk about meditation remains simply verbal. There is no way through the words to give you any experience. But drugs are immensely useful. The words can explain to you what meditation is, the drug can give you a hallucinatory experience of it. And then you can be initiated into a method. And now you will not be moving in the darkness. Now you know that something… if an ordinary drug can do so much, then there must be some way to find an authentic transformation, to experience it without any dependence on anything.

So the drug simply opens up a door and helps you to understand that man’s life and his experience need not be confined to the ordinary mundane world - he can fly high towards the stars - that he is capable of knowing things which are not ordinarily available.

Under proper guidance - medical, meditational - drugs can be of immense help.

I said I am against drugs because if they become addictive then they will be the most destructive for your journey towards the self. Then you become enchanted into hallucinations. And because it is cheap - no effort has to be done, just you have to go on taking bigger and bigger doses….

In India, it came to a point…. Still today there are monasteries where they keep poisonous snakes because the people had become so addicted to all kinds of drugs that no drug has any effect on them. They can take any dose and they will remain normal. The only thing that gives them a little experience is a bit on their tongue by a cobra. That will be death to anybody, but to them, it is a beautiful drug experience.

Sometimes it has happened that these people become addicted even to cobra bites. Their whole bloodstream becomes poisonous. And it is on record, and once it happened in front of me, that a cobra was brought to bite. The Cobra did it perfectly well on the tongue and died.

The man had become so poisonous… because the cobra is not poisonous in his whole body. He has simply a small gland which has poison, and that gland is just in his mouth. So whenever the cobra bites someone, he immediately turns upside down, because the gland in his mouth has the opening up. He will bite; that is not dangerous. That is simply making your blood available. And then he will turn over to pour the poison on your blood.

The bite is not really poisonous. The poison comes from the gland which hangs above his tongue in the mouth. It has to hang that way, otherwise, the poison cannot remain in it. So he turns upside down. The poison starts flowing out of the gland into the wounds that he has made by his bite. But before he could do that, biting the man was enough to get poisoned himself.

For thousands of years, people have been using drugs. Moralists, religious people, governments have been trying prohibition absolutely unsuccessfully.

And I don’t see that they can ever succeed.

The only way to succeed is what I am suggesting. Rather than prohibiting drugs, let the scientists find out better drugs which give deeper and more psychedelic, more colorful, more ecstatic experiences and without any side effects, and without any addiction. And these should be available in the universities, in the colleges, in the hospitals - wherever some kind of guidance is possible, that the person is not prohibited, is allowed total freedom to use anything that he wants.

And we use his experience to help him grow towards some authentic process so that he can start experiencing something far greater than any drug can give.

And only then he can compare that the first one was just a dream, and this is a reality, and the first one was just cheating myself through chemistry, ‘And the first one was not helping me in my spiritual growth. It was, in fact, preventing the growth, keeping me addicted and retarded’. The second one goes on growing, and now he starts gathering the courage to explore more.

He was never aware that these experiences are possible, that these experiences are not just fiction.

So drug can be used in a very beneficial way, to make the person realize that this is a hallucination, and the hallucination is so satisfying, would not you like to try the real? We have the real drug also.

I call it meditation. And it takes you to the uttermost blissful experience possible.

Then only drugs become useless for you.

If we want humanity to get free of drugs, then meditation is the way. But before we can get free of them, they are very important and can be used to introduce people to meditation.

So this paranoia about drugs is not helpful to humanity. You can make drugs illegal, it makes no change. In fact, they become more attractive, more exciting.

Particular to the youth they become a challenge.

I am amazed sometimes that, is man going ever to learn even the ABC of human psychology? The same stupidity goes on which God did with Adam and Eve:

prohibition. Don’t eat the fruit of this tree. But that becomes an invitation. That becomes a challenge. And thousands of years have passed, but the authority figures are still in the same mood: don’t use the drug, otherwise imprisonment for five years, seven years. And nobody bothers that drugs are being made available in jails. Just you have to pay a little higher price. And the people who come out of the jail are not cured. They go back again because … the reason is the drug gives them something which your society is not giving.

They are ready to destroy their health, their body, their whole life becomes a mess, but still, that drug gives them something which your society does not give.

So rather than preventing them, create a society which gives something which is better.

I have been fighting in India with one of the most idiotic prime ministers India had, Morarji Desai. He is absolutely fanatic, is not ready to listen to any reasonable argument. Alcohol has to be prohibited. He prohibited the alcohol.

That does not make any change. People start making alcohol but that proves dangerous. Thousands of people died because the alcohol they drank was poisonous, was not made rightly. The people who were making it had no idea what they are making.

And this has been happening around the world. Once in a while, some idiot comes in and tries to prohibit, but nobody asks why people drink alcohol.

(Tape side B) Your life gives them nothing. You suck them of their blood and in return what they get? No joy, just anxieties upon anxieties. Safe alcohol makes them relax for few hours, sing a song or have a little dance - or a fight in the pub.

But for few hours they are transported from your world. The very attraction proves that your society is wrong, not that alcohol is wrong.

Your society should help people to dance, to sing, to rejoice, to love. The alcohol will disappear. The other drugs are far better than alcohol.

There are many drugs which have less bad after-effects, particularly synthetic drugs taken in a right atmosphere, in a right mood. For example, LSD. It simply enhances your mood, it does not do anything to you. If you are in a despair the LSD experience will become a nightmare. But if you are feeling a well-being, that is the time to take LSD. Then it can give you a really positive ecstatic experience, although it will be hallucinatory.

But if you don’t know the real, it looks almost the real. Even a man like Aldous Huxley, one of the most intelligent men of this generation, thought that through LSD he has achieved the same experience as Gautam Buddha, Kabir, Ramakrishna.

If you don’t know the real, naturally you cannot call it hallucinatory. It is so real.

Huxley had no experience of meditation. He has really no right to say such a thing. You can say such a thing only when you have experienced both, that it is the same experience as Kabir.

Kabir never used any drug. His experience was purely of meditation. On what grounds Huxley can say it is the same experience? He does not know the experience of Kabir. I can understand that he has been through a tremendously beautiful experience, but that experience disappears as the effect of the LSD goes out of the system.

But Kabir’s experience remains twenty-four hours, day in, day out, his whole life.

Once it happens, it is always there.

This is a simple criterion. But he was so much fascinated by the experience, and he corrupted almost a whole generation. They thought that if a man like Huxley says that LSD can give you samadhi, then what is the need of going through so much trouble for meditation with no guarantee whether you will be able to succeed or not?

I am against drugs because they can become addictive and they can prevent your spiritual growth. You can start thinking that you have achieved what you were seeking, and your hands are empty. You are just dreaming.

But, on the other hand, I am a very scientific mind. On the other hand, I would like drugs to be used, not to be prohibited - but used under proper guidance as a stepping-stone towards meditation.

And governments should pay more attention for improving the drugs rather than preventing people. If improved drugs are available, then other drugs will already be out of the market. There is no need to prohibit anything in the world.

Just produce something better - something better, cheaper, legal. Then who is going to bother about marijuana, hashish, heroin - for what? There is no reason.

Something better is available with the medical store, without prescription. Even in the hospital, you can book a place for yourself, that doctors can look after you while you are in the drug experience. Meditators can help you to understand what has happened to you. And this is possible very easily through meditation.

One thing more, that if something even hallucinatory happens to a person, meditation becomes easier. Something in him becomes certain. Something in him is now perfectly guaranteed that meditation is not just fiction.

And the hallucinatory experience also opens some doors.

The guidance can be of very much importance. For example, when somebody is under LSD and is having an ecstatic joy, that is the moment to teach him the method of meditation, because he is very sensitive, very clean and clear as he is not ordinarily. He is dull and cloudy. Now the whole sky is a clarity. You can teach him meditation more easily in this moment than you can teach him when he is in an ordinary state.

He seems to listen but he only hears. It does not go deep. His sleep is thick.

But in certain moments under LSD he is very close to awakening. Under a right guide, he can be introduced to the technique of meditation. He can be given what is called post-hypnotic suggestions for which he is absolutely vulnerable. He can be told that “This meditation, you will be able to do it when you are out of LSD experience.” You can go on repeating it that, “You are going to succeed in it.” It is a simple method and there is no problem in not succeeding in it.

Just one or two sessions with a guide will be enough. The man can be moved towards meditation. And once he moves towards meditation, drugs have no importance at all.

All the efforts of scientists and the government should be to understand that if a certain thing has been so attractive for the whole history of man, and no government has ever been successful to prohibit it, then there must be a certain need that it fulfills. And unless that need is fulfilled in some other way, drugs are going to remain in the world. And they are destructive. @B204 And the more governments are against them, more destructive they are because nobody can make any refinements on them, nobody can make any experiments on them, nobody is even allowed to say what I am saying.

But I can say it because I am against drugs. But that does not mean they cannot be used. They can be used as a means, they are not the end.

And if we can hope a future free of drugs, if man becomes naturally meditative….

And that is possible. If a child finds his father is meditating, his mother is meditating, everybody is meditating, he will start being curious about it. He also wants to meditate.

And that is the age when meditation is very simple because he is not yet corrupted by the society. Yet he is innocent.

And if everybody around him is doing something and enjoying in doing it, he cannot remain behind. He will sit with them with closed eyes. First, they may laugh at him, that it is not possible for children. But they do not understand. It is more possible for children than for the so-called grownups.

Just the atmosphere of meditation in schools, in colleges, in universities - wherever the person goes he finds that atmosphere which nourishes his own meditativeness.

I would love to see that no drugs are needed in the world. But not through prohibition, but through creating something better, something real. Drugs will be defeated without any difficulty, but these idiotic governments go on giving importance to drugs and they go on destroying the youth around the world.

The most precious time of life is wasted in hallucinations, and by the time they realize what they have done to themselves, perhaps it is too late. They cannot come back to a normal state. Their body has become accustomed to having certain chemicals in it. Then even unwillingly they have to go on injecting themselves with all kinds of poisons.

Or if somebody has not been on hard drugs, returns back, then he finds life very much dull, duller than you find it because he has seen something beautiful. It always remains a comparison.

He has made love under the impact of drug and he had felt at the very top of the world. And now he makes love and finds that it is nothing but a kind of sneeze.

It feels good; you sneeze and it feels good, but it is not something that you live for. Nobody can say that “I am living here for sneezing.”

REVIEW: Ghost In The Shell Is Everything Wrong With Hollywood Remakes

From the Marvel movies to the trippy action-adventure “Lucy,” Johansson has brought dizzying charisma to heroines who use their incredible abilities–be it sharpshooting or telekinesis–to topple tyrants and take down armies of armed baddies. In “Ghost in the Shell” she wears a barely-there body suit and scales walls while firing a gun right into the brainstem of any who’d oppose her. She punches out terrorists and single-handedly downs a tank, even when it risks tearing her shell asunder. And yet I felt nothing. Johansson’s charm seems in sleep mode as she struts vacantly through this tedious journey that boasts more tech talk than interesting action. Sanders has somehow drained away the very star power Johansson was supposedly cast to deliver. And that brings us to the scandal that’s followed the film since its earliest casting rumors: Yes. This is an example of whitewashing.

This issue has raging online for years, before the film even went into production. One side insisted that because the Manga — and its resulting 1995 anime — were Japanese, so too should be the heroine of its live-action, American-made adaptation. Others claimed that because the character is just a brain in a robot body, anyone could play the role, so why not Johansson who has a big fan base and a storied history in the action genre? Before seeing the movie, I understood both sides. But after?

This is hands down Asian erasure.

It’s not just that Major was renamed the white-coded “Mira Killian” instead of the original Japanese name Motoko Kusanagi, “Ghost In the Shell” is set in Tokyo. The film is dripping in elements of Japanese culture, from the anime iconography to geishas, and koi fish to traditional sushi restaurants with low tables and visitors in elaborate robes and obis. And yet most of the main characters are white; not just Major, but also her best friend Batou (Pilou Asbæk), her mother-figure Dr. Ouelet (Juliette Binoche), her antagonizing boss (Peter Ferdinando), and the aforementioned terrorist she’s charged to track down (Pitt).

So even if anybody could have theoretically been cast to play the fully robo-figured Major, Paramount chose to cast a movie set in Japan, telling a Japanese story, and steeped in Japanese culture using primarily white actors. That sends a message about who is valued and not, and it’s a pretty insulting one that only gets more clear and offensive as the movie goes on. There are people of color in the film, filling out Major’s team. But aside from her handler (Takeshi Kitano), they barely get five lines to share between the three of them. I couldn’t tell you any of their names, because the movie only cares about them in the rare instances where Major and Batou need back-up. They’re not characters as much as conveniences.

Another shocking scene involves Major hiring a sex worker so she might touch human flesh. Instead of the short-circuiting lesbian scene from the comic, Major — who absolutely reads as a White woman — hires a Black woman so she can poke her and experiment. The optics are bad, especially in the wake of such a successful and woke film as “Get Out.”

And then things get worse!

Submitted by filipfatalattractionrblog 

Reverse Heroine | (II)

parts: ➳ 1 | 2 | 3 / ?

a supposedly only 2 part fic ft. fuckboy!jungkook x


summary: because platonic love is underrated

genre: college au, fluff/angst idk?

word count: 5.1k

a/n: I probably fluctuated too much with the comedy and angst on this but because i wrote on different days it just really goes by my mood. i also probably should stop thinking that I’m being really funny because i’m laughing at my own jokes like its so sad somebody halp me. 

shoutout to the cutest baby that i need to protect from Jungkook the rude hip thrusting brat: @mintmintyoongi you’re so cute and sweet omg my grandma heart is alive and well when i think of you

let me know what you guys think of the new chapter!

              After the interruption from the well-loved couple, the party resumed to its previous state. Smashed students downing on drinks and- wait, is that Kim Taehyung doing a keg stand right now? You shake your head in amusement; that boy never fails to go all out during parties. You’ve already walked around the frat house twice in search for Jungkook, seeing way too much going on for your liking, but the boy was still nowhere to be found. Popping a couple of beers yourself, your bladder was now urgently sending a signal – yep, it was definitely an emergency. You run to the closest bathroom, hand on the knob to find girl on the counter and your favourite fratboy standing between her legs, lips locked like they were about to devour each other.

               The caramel locks are recognizable at first sight, which are currently entangled in Jungkook’s hand like a wild animal. The sophomore has taken it too far this time, messing around with someone like her. With anger bubbling in your stomach, you pull on Jungkook’s t-shirt, separating the bodies apart. With some space between the two, you realize that the girl was indeed Park Sora – daughter of President Park of the director’s board. She looks embarrassed and flustered in being caught in action, immediately closing her legs together in hopes of saving her prim and proper image.

               “You’re coming with me, Jeon.” A hiss comes out of your mouth and Jungkook makes no attempt to resist, he was smart enough to know not to mess with you when you were fuming.

               Dragging the drunken body outside, you muster all your strength and throw Jungkook onto the ground. He groans in pain at the contact and your heartstrings tug for a second before returning to your iron expression once again.

               “It’s only grass, Jeon. You’ve been slammed countless of times like this in football, stop pretending like it actually hurts.” You roll your eyes as you wait for the boy to get up on his feet. The fresh and brisk air outside seems to have Jungkook sobered up a bit, who tries to push through you to get into the house again.

               “Leave me alone, loser.” He mutters, alcohol stenching his breath. “I have to get back to Sora.”

               You pull him back to stand in front of you, hands tugging on the collar of his shirt. “I’m saving your ass, you idiot! If President Park finds out about you messing with his precious little daughter, you can kiss your sports scholarship goodbye!”

               Your hands release Jungkook when he seems to finally realize the situation that he got himself in, no longer demanding to get back inside. He sucks in a breath of cold air as he kicks the grass on the lawn, obviously aware of the consequences of his actions but still pissed off that you called him out like that.

               “Kook, I thought you were better than this.” You groan, pulling your messy locks back from falling forwards. “You-you know that you shouldn’t mess with girls like that. She’s going to take everything for serious! And I can’t let you hurt her like that”

               Everything falls silent. Too tired to keep yelling at your friend, you watch as Jungkook stands before you – head looking down with his bangs covering his eyes. The climax of the party continues in the back of the house, muffled music filling up the dead space between you and Jungkook. The unsettling tension is making you crazy until he finally decides to speak again.

               “What if the one that’s hurt is me?” Jungkook looks at you for the first time since the two of you have been outside. His eyes are bloodshot and watery, and his pained expression makes your heart clench in sympathy.

               “What?” A soft sound escapes your lips, confused to what Jungkook was saying. “What are you even sayi-”                

               “I lied. I lied to you, Y/N.” Jungkook whispers. “That night, when you asked me if I ever loved someone before and I told you that I didn’t.” He continues when you pull his hand into yours as support, feeling relieved at the contact. “I was wrong.” Jungkook looks up into the night sky, in attempt to keep his gleaming tears from falling. But it was no use, it was just too easy to be himself – not the infamous bad boy that the campus knew him as – whenever you’re around.

              “That feeling you mentioned, I didn’t- I just didn’t know what you were talking about. Until today, when I saw Jimin’s hands around her.”

               Jungkook takes a deep breath and shudder, needing a moment to get over his rush of emotions that was overwhelming him. You take this time to bring him to the sidewalk curb, sitting down with him beside you.

               “I’m in love, Y/N. With my own fucking best friend.” A series of soft cries escape from Jungkook’s lips, leaning onto your shoulder as support. You didn’t realize that he was crying until you felt his tears staining your skin underneath the t-shirt. You should’ve noticed the signs. It was bound to happen – the way he looks at her, the way he smiles when she does, and the way he suffers when he saw Jimin with his beloved. You should have realized that Jeon Jungkook was in love with Lee Daeun.

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Across the Divide

TITLE: Across The Divide


AUTHOR: wolfpawn

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki sneaking out of the palace as a youth to see the city and countryside, while out one day, he accidentally gets in trouble for something, but a young girl deals with the situation, allowing him to be left alone and his true identity be kept secret. She is a poor girl who is only in the city to sell goods with her father, so she does not realise it is Loki, even though she sees his face. They form a friendship as she shows him around the city, and tells him the date she comes to the city every month for a particular market.

RATING: Teen and Up

NOTES: Some bullying in this chapter. 

Loki stood watching as his father all but castrated Lord Ivan for his handling of the mine collapse. It was everything Loki had said and far worse. The people of the area had noticed the royal presence and were shocked, yet pleased to see the Allfather had thought it worthy of his time. Odin, however, had to politically state that it was the first chance he had to come to deal with it and that though those inside had perished, he would ensure every man was given his rightful burial, on the crown’s gold. That pleased the people, but enraged the king, not for the financial cost, but because it made the crown look lackadaisical and uncaring. The court treasurer almost seemed faint at the idea of paying for the mine, until Odin informed him that Lord Ivan and his officials would be paying a considerable portion of the cost, before adding that there were festivals held in Asgard for the wealthy that cost more than retrieving these men’s bodies, so to cancel one of them was to have the same money spent, only this was far more worthy a cause. Frigga smiled approvingly beside her husband at that.

After the matter was dealt with, Loki actively went in search of his brother to speak with him, something he could not recall doing with nearly a hundred years. Thor, for his part, stood staring at his younger sibling when his hand servant opened the door to reveal Loki standing on the other side. “Loki?”

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“per ardua ad astra” - chapter twelve

Wherein a hint of a plot occurs!

last chapter:

“You’re Alderaanian, captain? I didn’t realize.”

Skimming something on Jyn’s datapad, he made an indistinct noise of assent. Jyn herself felt an uncomfortable chill prickle all up and down her spine. Maybe danger, maybe the reminder of whatever nightmare awaited them in the cradle of the Rebellion.

Zekheret blurted out, “Oh, that’s why—uh—I mean, you’re going home, then. Sir.”

this chapter:

A man with soft robes and soft eyes asked him his name, and he just begged him, where’s Mama? Where’s Rana?—I’m Cassian, Cassian Andor, but Rana—Renalia, my sister, you’ve got to find her—

 “—the old senator was a troublemaker since before the Empire, the princess is a traitor and spy, and that queen and the planetary council turn a blind eye to open disrespect for the Emperor.”

Tor halted long enough that Cassian assumed he’d finished his catalogue of Alderaan’s sins.

 “I’m aware,” he said.

chapters: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven

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anonymous asked:

Can I ask you how the translation process for the movie worked? When learning a new language it is always more difficult to understand it when people are speaking and Japanese is not a language which is similar to other languages you normally learn in Europe

This was a long and tedious journey %)

First of all, I received a camrip with terrible sound quality. I worked with camrip and with a transcript of the movie, a thing I had for the first time in forever, thanks to Startold. Camrip version also had German subtitles which were kind of unreadable for most of the time, but when they were, we used them, since [N] is German. However, transcript didn’t last long. Only until… 19-20 minutes iirc.

And after that it was me VS terrible sound quality, occasional German subs, trying to google stuff I hear (which is hard because some sounds sound absolutely similar, and there are words that are close to each other by sounding)

There were also reviews of the movie and pixiv fanart with quotations, but they were not word-to-word correct, but at least conveyed general meaning.

Version after version, the sound were better and better and I managed to listen to more stuff. 

And in the end I received a BD rip with Japanese subtitles (which were in a special format :( ), and thanks to that I fixed a lot of misheard stuff. And also added a lot of background lines, that were not used even in official Japanese subtitles ^^

And of course the whole process felt harder since the movie itself was 80% kansaiben xD

Valentine’s Mystery - Sebastian Smythe

Ok I know I promised to update Arrow Cave but I had this vision today while I was resting cause I’m sick and sore as hell and I really wanted to do it. I’ve never had a Valentine and we don’t really celebrate it all that much down here and my parents don’t do anything for the day so whenever I get the chance to write about it, I take that chance, seeing as I probably will never celebrate it #foreveralone

The day had started like any another, I had gotten up ridiculously early to finish the homework I had fallen asleep on last night, followed by singing in the shower and my usual routine of curling my hair and applying a thin layer of makeup. My morning schedule was pretty much the same every single day and there were very few instances that it would change, those instances being my birthday or during the holidays when there was no need to look presentable for whatever reason. So as per usual, I trudged down stairs, still in my pyjamas, and shuffled into the kitchen, giving both parents a peck on the cheek and pouring myself a glass of OJ.
“So peeps, what the plan for the night? You lovebirds going out for a nice dinner?” I asked, bringing the cup to my lips, peering over the edge at my amused parents.
“Actually we were just going to stay in this time. Spend the night with our favourite daughter,” my mum grinned, squeezing my cheeks affectionately. I swatted her hands away, pushing her back towards the stove where she was no doubt making heart shaped pancakes for me.
“I’d like to remind you that I’m your only child, and you really don’t need to worry about me. Dominos always has cheaper pizza’s on Valentines Day and Netflix is bound to be playing some sort of rom-com that’ll keep me satisfied,” I smiled, thinking over my romantic plans for one.
“That’s really depressing,” my dad joked, glancing up from the paper he was currently reading.
“That is what single people do dad,” I rolled my eyes, taking my pancake filled plate from my mum and waltzing over to the dining table, stopping short. “Which one of you is trying to make me feel better?”
“What are you talking about dear?” my mum asked, raising her brows.
“There’s a rose on the table,” I placed my plate down, picking the beautiful flower up delicately, turning to face my confused parents.
“Neither of us did it. That was there when I came down,” my dad shrugged his shoulders, joining me at the table with his own plate of fluffy goodness.
“Oh my, maybe you have a secret admirer!” mum squealed, clapping her hands excitedly like a love sick seal.
“How the bloody hell did it get in here?” I raised my brow, suddenly scared for my safety.
“It’s probably one of your friends. They know how lonely you get and probably just want to cheer you up,” my dad reasoned, always the smart one of the family.
“You’re probably right,” I nodded, placing the rose down next to me, going through a list in my head of who could have got it here without me noticing.
“Y’all are such party-poopers,” my mum frowned. She’s always had this idea in my head that one day I’ll be swept up off my feet by the ‘man of my dreams’ and be whisked away to his mansion and live happily ever after. She watches too many Disney movies, as you can probably tell.
“Of course we are darling,” my dad simply agreed, not wanting to make my mum upset anymore. God, sometimes their love is too sickening. We sat in silence for the next few moments, the only sound being the radio that was softly playing some sort of love song in the background and the clinking of cutlery on our plates.
“Well that was filling, I’m gonna get the ready now,” I smiled, placing my dishes in the sink before rushing upstairs and away my from mums disapproving gaze. I bolted straight in my wardrobe, running around like a goose with its head chopped off, trying to find the perfect outfit. Something that says ‘I’m single and I don’t care’. I finally settled on a deep red crop top with acid wash high waisted shorts, my favourite white hightop converse and a cream cardigan. Once I was dressed and looking presentable, I slung my bag over my shoulder, filled with the essentials (phone, earphones, wallet, books, makeup, food) and skipped out of my room, eager to start the day. Before walking out the door, I made the split decision to grab the rose and take it to school with me, eager to find out which one of my lovey dovey friends have given it to me.
“Have a nice day dear,” my mum called from her bedroom, me yelling a “you too” back at her before closing the front door. Seeing as both my parents worked incredible jobs, we could afford to have plenty of nice things. I hated taking advantage of that fact, but when it came to my car, I wouldn’t trade it in for anything. I had started of just driving either one of my parents’ car (with them in it of course), but for my 17th birthday, they had decided that because I was relatively a safe driver, they would get me my own car, and boy did they deliver. They had gotten me a brand new Audi TT Coupé in a gorgeous black with leather interior. This car was my pride and joy and pretty much no one was allowed to drive it, apart from myself (and occasionally my parents). I marvelled at my baby for a few moments before deciding that I didn’t want to be any later to school that necessary, so I made my way to my car, opening my door and preparing to get it, stopping short not a second later. On my drivers seat was yet another red rose, this time with a note attached. I picked it up and slid into my car, opting to read the note in private rather than alert my mum that there was another rose. Scribbled on the small card was ‘take us to school to find the rest’, obviously meaning both of the flowers I had found this morning. I was beginning to wonder who this person was and how they had access to my house AND my car. Shaking off my worry, I placed both roses delicately into my bag before beginning the short yet tedious journey to William Mckinley High. After 10 minutes of loud singing to Beyoncé and several strange looks from parents going to work, I finally arrived at school. I opened the door, checking to make sure I had everything (seriously though, you won’t believe how many times I’ve left like a note or my laptop or my keys or something in the car. It’s honestly ridiculous) before getting out and locking my baby.
“Are you sure you don’t wanna give it a smooch?” a teasing voice sounded behind me, making me roll my eyes.
“Haha very funny. You should become a comedian,” I teased, lightly shoving Blaine. He simply grinned, linking arms with me and tugging me into school, babbling on about all the romantic plans he had set up for him and Kurt this evening, asking for my input every now and then.
“So what about you? What are you plans Ms Single?” he asked, opening his locker and rifling through the mess, searching for god knows what.
“Cheap pizza and Netflix,” I answered, laughing at the disapproving glare I received. “It’s not my fault I’m too fabulous for all these guys!” I flicked my hair mockingly, earning a playful shove in return.
“You live a depressing life,” a new voice piped up, making me turn around in shock.
“Bloody hell, what is with you people and sneaking up on me,” I huffed, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Awww you look so cute like that,” Kurt cooed, placing a kiss on my cheek. I rolled my eyes, linking arms with both of my best friends and pulling them to the office, needing to pick up some new textbooks.
“Hi Dorothy, I’m here to get some books,” I smiled sweetly at the older lady sitting behind the desk, mentally cooing at how adorable she was.
“Oh yes, there right here. This came in for you as well. I had no idea who it’s from.” she handed me my books and yet another rose, no note like the first.
“Thanks,” I yelled, already halfway out the door with the two boyfriends running after me to get an explanation.
“Oh my god do you have a secret admirer!”
“Who do I need to kill!”
“Ok first off it’s not a secret admirer Kurt, I actually thought it was one of you guys, and secondly Blaine, you can’t even kill a spider let alone a human,” I scoffed, placing the third rose safely inside my bag and leaning against my locker, books still in my arms.
“Three roses? Wow, someone really likes you,” Kurt gasped, leaning against Blaine for support.
“It’s probably just one of the glee kids playing a prank,” I shrugged, twisting the lock to open my locker door.
“No one would buy three extremely expensive roses just as a joke,” Blaine pointed out, beginning to fangirl much like his boyfriend. I sighed, opening my door and finding yet another flower tucked inside with a note on my door. Kurt managed to rip it off before I had the chance to grab it, eyes scanning the paper.
“OH MY GOD! I can’t! This is too cute!” he squealed, jumping up and down, effectively grabbing the attention of the entire hallway.
“What does it say?” I asked, taking the note from his hands and reading it for myself. ‘4 roses. 4 letters.’
“Oh wow,” I whistled, knowing exactly what the note had meant.
“We need to start creating a list of who the possible admirers could be. I need to set my honeybun up with somebody,” Kurt continued to babble about the roses, saying something along the lines of ‘its so cute’ and ‘I wonder who it is’ among the gibberish. I simply placed the note and the rose in my bag with the others, picking out the books I needed and walked to class, following the happy couple close behind, lost in my own thoughts.

PC and first class went by quickly with no other random flowers, making me curious as to when the next one would pop up, if there even was another. I was walking to class with Brittany, listening to her go on about how she didn’t need a man and how she made herself happy and all that crap, but I wasn’t really paying attention. We walked into the science rooms, giggling about some failed romantic declaration we had just passed in the hallway, only to stop short. On my chair was a large brown bear, holding a rose in-between its paws.
“That’s cute,” Brittany stated, taking the seat next to mine and stroking the bear, murmuring about how soft it was. I blushed, quickly putting the rose in my bag and tucking the bear under my table for the time being, receiving plenty of weird looks. “Who’s it from?”
“I have no idea. I’ve been getting roses all day, first at my house and now here. It’s really strange,” I muttered, spotting the card tucked neatly into the bears bow around its neck. I pulled it out, glancing at it subtly, not wanting the teacher to know that I wasn’t paying attention. On it was 5 simply letters, ‘I L Y V M’  and it didn’t take a genius to figure out what it stood for.
“Miss Y/L/N, is there something you would like to add to the conversation?” my teacher asked, making my snap my head up, shaking it furiously.
“No Sir, sorry,” I flushed, tucking the note inside my pocket and away from the sight of any prying eyes.
“Pay attention to the less. I would hate to see you in detention,” he glared, turning back around to face the board. I sat in silence for the rest of the lesson, scribbling down note but still thinking about the flowers, going through a mental list of who could be giving them to me. The bell broke my from my thoughts, making me pack up my things and head to my next class, wanting to get there as soon as possible so I could catch Kurt up. I sat down at the back, placing my things on my desk and the bear behind me and waiting for the fashionista to walk in the room, always late. He finally rushed in, taking his seat and looking at me expectantly.
“There’s a giant bear behind you,” he pointed out, looking at it with heart eyes.
“I know, it was on my seat in science along with another rose and note,” I huffed, avoiding looking at the rest of my curious classmates.
“Seriously, this is the cutest thing I have ever seen,” he gushed, making me roll my eyes.
“I have no idea who the hell is doing this, but it’s getting really strange,” I whispered, beginning to quieten down since the teacher had arrived. She began her boring lesson on how Shakespeare was one of the most prominent persons in our history, effectively making the entire class fall asleep. I had just begun to doze off before there was a knock on the classroom door, making everyone immediately glance that way. In walked a freshmen, holding something behind his back.
“Umm is there a,” he looked at his hand “Y/N Y/L/N in here?” he asked, glancing around nervously. Everyone turned around and looked at me, giving away my location. The boy shuffled forward, handing me the rose and a note before leaving class. Everyone began whispering excitedly, staring at the rose in my hand.
“What’s the note say?” someone asked, making me blink. I glanced down, scanning over it quickly before turning a bright red.
“Leave Y/N alone everyone,” the teacher came to my aid, making everyone groan and turn around, the only person looking at me being Kurt. I simply handed him the note, placing the 6th rose in my bag.
‘I want to be yours.’
“Whoever this person is, I don’t think they’re playing a joke,” he muttered, sliding it back onto my desk. I nodded, placing it in my folder and continuing on with my work, noticing all the strange looks my classmates were giving me. I attempted to ignore them for the rest of class and tried to focus on the task at hand, but it was quite hard when everyone was whispering about what had just happened. I knew that in a few short minutes, this would be circling around the school and become the latest gossip. The bell rang, signalling the end of English and the start of something much worse… Lunch. I reluctantly packed up my things, trying to delay being in the watchful eye of all the other students as much as I could.
“Come on, stop procrastinating. You need to get out there and face the world,” Kurt grinned, handing me the bear and taking my free hand, pulling me out of the classroom and down towards our lockers. Every step we took, I could feel the strange looks I was receiving, some people even making outright comments.

“Why has she got that bear?”
“Did you hear what happened in English?”
“Who would ever like her?”

I tried to block all of the haters, opting to listen to Kurt’s never ending babble, letting him drag me to my locker. He continued to talk whilst I opened up my locker, stopping when he saw the next rose in there.
“I swear to god, how is this person getting into my locker!” I huffed, quickly depositing it in my bag before changing my books around, hoping that nobody saw the 7th flower for the day.
“Maybe it’s someone that’s like really close to you and you just haven’t realised,” Kurt hummed, thinking about the possible candidates.
“Well whoever it is has a lot to answer for,” I sighed, picking up the bear and walking towards the cafeteria, getting in line with Kurt right behind me. We spoke quietly for the next few moments, voicing our suggestions on who we thought the mystery culprit was before I was finally served.
“Can I just get a caesar salad and a water please?” I handed the lunch lady my money, not really paying all that much attention. She got my food for me and handed me my tray, smiling suspiciously.
“Oh my god,” Kurt mumbled, making me look at him in confusion. He pointed at the food tray, making me glance down and gasp. There, lying on the tray, was the 8th rose, again with a note. I thanked the lady, rushing off to our usual table, struggling with the combined weight of the teddy, my food and my bag.
“So how many is that?” Blaine asked when he saw me, noticing the flower resting on the tray.
“It’s the fucking 8th rose. Who the bloody hell is doing this?” I almost screamed, frustration evident in my voice.
“I dunno, but whoever it is, obviously likes you enough to spend that much money,” he mused, smiling at the thought. I rolled my eyes, knowing it was pointless to talk to my best friends about this, seeing as they were both love sick fools.
“What on earth are you doing with a bear?” a new voice piped up, making me flush.
“Y/N has a secret admirer,” another voiced added one, making me groan in embarrassment.
“Is that a rose?” someone else asked.
“She’s got another 7 in her bag,” Kurt answered, taking his seat next to his smiling boyfriend.
“This is ridiculous. If its one of you idiots fess up now,” I huffed, glaring at all my friends sat around me. Brittany was busy playing with the bear, Klaine were holding their hands up in defence, Santana was raising her perfectly plucked brows and Rachel just looked annoyed.
“It’s not any of us,” Santana finally spoke, picking up the note attached to the last rose. She scanned it for a moment, chuckling slightly. “Whoever it is really likes you.” She handed it back to me, opting to eat her food rather than contribute to the conversation. I read over the note, smiling slightly.
‘You were 8 when you moved here, and I couldn’t have asked for anything better.’
I put the note in my bag with the others, jointing the conversation at hand and avoiding Kurt’s inquisitive gaze. He can be such a nosy little shit when he wants to be, and I know he wants to find out who this person is even more than I do. But alas, lunch ended and so did my time with my best friends. I threw away the remainder of my food, allowing Brittany to carry my bear to our next class, which happened to be gym. Nothing could possibly go wrong in gym, or so I hoped. We deposited our belongings in the locker room and had gotten change fairly quickly, now sitting on the benches outside.
“So what’s it like having a secret admirer?” she asked, beginning to braid my hair.
“It’s strange. I mean, it could literally be anyone at this school. It could be Ben for all we know,” I screwed my face up, trying to get that image out of my head.
“I think it’s sweet. I would give anything for someone to do that for me…” she sighed, hands faltering in my hair.
“I’ll do it for your birthday if you want me to,” I smiled, making her immediately brighten up. She happily chatted for the rest of class, continuously braiding and unbraiding my hair, seemingly content with what she was doing. I let her talk, tuning in and out of the conversation and adding a comment when it was needed. It was only when coach blew her whistle that we stopped. Brit helped me up from the floor, linking her arm with mine and leading me back to the change rooms, talking adamantly.
“Y/N?” a timid voice spoke, making me stop walking and look towards the gym doors. Everyone else stopped as well, wanting to see what a freshman would want with a senior like me.
“Um, yes?” I asked, slowly walking towards her. She rushed forward, handing me a rose before running out of the building, not wanting to be there any longer than she needed to be. I sighed, stomping off to the gym rooms and tucking it into my bag, slightly annoyed that it happened in front of everyone again but still quite happy considering someone was putting a lot of effort into the gesture. I quickly got dressed, running out of the change rooms with my book bag smacking against my leg and the bear tucked under my arm, trying to get away from the, once again, strange looks I was receiving. I stood in front of Blaine’s class, anxiously tapping my foot. He finally emerged, laughing at something some student had said before I roughly pulled him away, running towards the glee rooms in hope of some privacy.
“Woah what the hell?” he squeaked, narrowly missing bashing into a sophomore.
“9. There’s been 9 mother fucking rose and I still don’t know who it is!” I yelled, throwing my hands up in frustration, stopping in the middle of the hallway.
“Ok, ok calm down. I know how annoying this must be. But just think, at the end of the day this person will probably appear and sweep you away on a romantic date and that’ll be the end of the mystery,” he soothed, pulling me in for hug. I huffed, groaning into his shoulder in annoyance. “Come on let’s get to practice. You know Mr Schue will kill us if were late again.” And with that we were off, fast walking to the music room. We burst into the room, giggling like teenager girls until we noticed the silence.
“Uh, sorry we’re late?” I tried, hoping that someone would speak. Kurt looked at me nervously, glancing down at the seat of my chair next to him. “I swear to Jesus, if that’s another rose I’ll kill someone.” Everyone immediately shuffled away, revealing that there was indeed a single red rose sat on my chair, this one with a note. I breathed deeply, walking over to it and picking it up, sitting down in the spot it was previously in.
“This is insanity,” Rachel finally spoke, breaking the awkward tension in the room.
“You’re telling me,” I mumbled, reading over the note.
‘You must be going crazy right about now.’
“Does anyone know who it is?” Mercedes piped up, eyes flickering between my face and the flower in my lap. I shrugged, not having any idea as to who it could be.
“Alright, enough of this flower talk,” Mr Schue cut in, making everyone turn to the front. The time went by fast and soon enough it was time for the last period of the day; soccer practice. A lot of people just did normal academic class but for those wanting to possibly get a sport scholarship, we were allowed to do a sport during last period, and I had chosen soccer, seeing as it was a long time hobby of mine. I knew that nothing could go wrong during this lesson, so I set about getting changed into my uniform and started doing laps, opting to spend most of the time running rather than dicking around like everyone else seemed to do.

*~ skip to the end of practice because I’m lazy and this is already long enough ~*

I let out a puff of air, finally getting my breathing under control. I had spent pretty much the entire lesson running around the field, content to listen to my music and jog. I wiped my forehead with a towel, beginning to gather up my things to go and have a shower. It was then that I saw it. The 11th rose, tucked safely into my sports bag, no note this time. I rolled my eyes, rushing to put it with the rest of the flowers before stripping off and showering, softly singing to pass the time. Once I was free of sweat, I turned the shower off, drying myself off and changing back into my regular clothes, shoving the sweaty ones into my locker. I’ll come back tomorrow and take them home to wash but for now, I had way too many things to worry about. I gathered up my bag full of roses and the teddy bear and headed out, eager to get home and sleep. I waited outside Klaine’s class until the bell went, lightly tapping my foot against the wall to pass time. The ear piercing bell finally sounded, signalling the end of the school day and the end of my misery. I avoided the rush of the students, waiting patiently for my favourite couple to emerge from their class. When they finally did, they were smiling brightly, linking arms with me and happily skipping towards the front doors.
“What’s got you two in a good mood?” I asked, immediately regretting asking.
“Well schools over and now we get to properly celebrate,” Blaine sighed, making heart eyes at his equally excited boyfriend. I screwed my face up, knowing exactly what they meant by ‘celebrate’.
“TMI,” I muttered, hearing them both laugh in response. They pushed open the doors, following the crowd of students that were just as excited to leave. It was then that I saw him, smiling cutely at top of the steps, coffee in one hand and the final rose in his other, holding it out for me to take.

“Bloody hell I totally knew it was him!”
“You owe me 20 bucks!”
“Why didn’t we think of him?”

I barely heard my friends commenting things behind me, already halfway towards the grinning boy.
“Hey,” he whispered, handing me the flower, chuckling slightly at the bear tucked underneath my arm.
“After all this, all you have to say is hey?” I raised my brow, looking up at the smug looking boy. He shrugged, leaning down and pressing a kiss to my forehead.
“I see you got my gifts,” he gestured to the bear, making me scoff slightly.
“You were driving me mad. I couldn’t figure out who it was,” I shook my head, looking down at my converse clad feet.
“Are you happy it was me?” he asked nervously, biting his lower lip. I stared at him for a moment, my lips beginning to turn up into a smile.
“I couldn’t think of a better person,” I finally said, throwing my arms around his middle, not being tall enough to reach anywhere else. He let out a sigh of relief, wrapping his arms around me and holding me for a moment, warmth making me smile even wider. “Thank you Sebastian. You’ve truly made this the best day ever.”

What you’re wearing:

Sorry not sorry but not everyone who ids as kin is ‘valid’

Not everyone’s kintypes are 'valid’

Knock it off with that babycoddling bullshit

There’s nothing wrong with being wrong about a kintype

There’s nothing wrong with realizing you’re not actually kin

This Everyone’s Valid No Matter What mentality is what’s got the kinmunnity so fucking ripe with misinformation

Fucking question each other. Take your and everyone else’s ids with a grain of salt. Take months to confirm kintypes. Reconfirm your kintypes every so often.

Kin is a long, tedious journey of constant self analyzing and discovery.

You’re not automatically valid bc you decided to id as kin one day.

Guffgaff: Momo


They resemble little pieces of the Moon. They taste like the heavens itself. It’s perfection wrapped in muchheko maida (dough of white flour). Offer it and no one can refuse it; the de facto national food of Nepal, मम: (ideally ‘mamah’ but is written more as ‘momo’) has been warming the hearts, souls and obviously the tummies of millions of Nepalis worldwide. 

What is momo? I can hear thousands of people *gasp* as I say that. No Nepali blog can be complete without momo! However, those who have not been acquainted much with the Nepali culture cannot be blamed. Momo is a type of dumpling, much like the Japanese Gyoza or perhaps the Chinese Jiaozi

Round type Momo

The Nepali diaspora has such an affair with momo that I believe there are quite the variety of words. Now, I shall dive into the details of the momo. Physically speaking, it has two primary forms: crescent-shape and round-shape. Aesthetically speaking, I prefer the crescent-shaped momo. It is white in colour due to the white flour dough used to make the cover (खोल /khol/).



Just like how we cannot describe a person from the outside, we cannot simply know what momo is without knowing the inside. Inside the pouch there is a filling. The filling is usually of meat like Chicken, Buff (buffalo meat), Pork etc. but it is not uncommon to hear vegetarian varieties (like cabbage and paneer?). However you can fill any material you like as long as you cook it thoroughly (I guess goat meat is an exception). 

Despite what you think, making momo isn’t easy!!!

The filling is not simply meat or some vegetable. It contains the following base ingredients, roughly:

  • Minced Meat/Vegetable of choice
  • Diced Onion 
  • Salt
  • Coriander
  • Ginger
  • Monosodium Glutamate (popularly called ‘Ajinomoto’ here)
  • Oil (if the meat/vegetable is dry…e.g. chicken)

Some people (especially in the Kathmandu valley) add ‘Momo masala’ to the above filling. Some people even add tomatoes and god-knows-what ingredients. The masala is in fact even an ice-breaker; some people swear by it, some people swear at it. Personally, I prefer the much simpler-and-superior tasting non-momo masala version. However, it is upto one’s personal preference! 

Dicing the onion by itself is a mammoth task. Just imagine; one onion is enough to wreck havoc with your eyes. Now imagine having to cut a minimum of 5-6 onions into tiny dices! Yes, the onion has to be small dices; it provides the texture and flavour to the momo. Unfortunately within my family, I am that unfortunate dicer. You do not know how creative people can be with this thing. Whether it be freezing the onions, cutting it underwater, using swimming goggles, fans etc. people have their own ways to tackle such a literally eye-watering task.

Dicing onion

Another back-breaking task is mincing the meat. While not as malicious as the onions, you need to mince the meat with a cleaving knife fine enough for a good texture (but not so fine that it tastes like eating powdered filling). It is an art by itself. Fortunately, you can buy already minced meat at supermarkets or the local butcher can do it for you. Vegetarians need not glee at this point because you need to chop the vegetables down as well. 

Now you roll the dough! Not really, we still have the white flour sitting in some tokri (container). So you get some water and knead the flour until you get the dough. If it ‘needs’ more water, you ‘knead’ the dough by adding more water. Anyway, after you are done with the dough (hold the yeast!), you now begin your tedious journey to momo salvation.



The first step in making the momo is ensuring you are a Ph.D in the art of Origami folding. The next step is making sure you have at least a degree in getting the shape right, with a minor in filling the adequate amount of filing. 

Well you actually don’t need the above to make momo at least. However, making momo is a terrific skill. I still can’t make those annoying muja (folds) right. Before that, you need to set the dough into a round shape. You chop the dough into lumps that are about the size of half of an average walnut. Next, you roll them with a belan (rolling pin) into neat circular shapes. 

If you are lazy, then you simply flatten the dough into a long rectangular sheets and then use a cup (or something circular) to cut neat circular shapes. If you are even lazier, then you can buy pre-made ones. If you are lazy beyond this point then just buy frozen momos or order them from somewhere.

Filling the momo

Now that you have the wrapper, you fill it with the filling by placing it in the centre of the wrapper. Now you begin wrapping it to form a neat shape. You finally close it and then you have one momo! Repeat till you get a sizable amount. Arrange the momo on the मक्टु (maktu) and take it to the steamer. मक्टु (maktu) is the sub-component of the steamer [creatively called ‘momo ko bhada’ (untensil of momo)]. 



You must first ensure that steam is actually coming out of the steamer. Now that you have kept the momo in the steamer, you now patiently wait for 15-25 minutes for the momo to cook. Harder meats like buff take longer time to cook, while softer meats like chicken cook in ~18 minutes. Care must be taken to avoid over-cooking it. If you overcook momo, it becomes ‘fyaatta’ (deformed due to overcooking). 

Momo in a maktu; notice the crescent-shaped momo and the arrangement

To ensure even cooking throughout the maktus, you have to periodically shift them up and down to ensure even cooking. There is a little trick that tells you if the momo is cooked or not; if it is shiny, then it is cooked. If it is still matte, then you need to cook it more. If it looks like a mini atom bomb went off inside each momo, then you probably overcooked it.

Now that your momo is cooking, you make the achar (pickle) for dipping. One faux pas in eating momo is using ketchup as your momo ko achar (pickle for momo) . Please never use ketchup, I swear that’s an unwritten taboo.  

You momo ko achar is usually made of tomato, coriander leaves, salt and chilli. However, you can also find the yellow one (made of peanuts), fierce red (made of chilli and salt only) or dips made of many other ingredients (like Szechuan pepper for instance).

Now that everything is done, you can enjoy you momo in peace! 



What I have described above is the basis of all the other varieties of momos. People have experimented with lots and lots of varieties (naturally). Some of the common ones are:

  • कोथे (kothe) = Pan-fried steamed momo, such that only portions of it is brown. Kothe momo is usually made from the leftover momo that has stood in the fridge for some time.
  • Fried = Like kothe, but fried such that the outer skin is golden in colour.
  • C = Short for ‘Chilly momo’, it is steamed (or fried) momo that is dunked in hot, savory sauce 
  • Momocha = Used to describe the atypical masala-flavoured buff-meat filled round momo
  • Sui mai = Open type of momo 
  • Jhol momo = Momo dunked in soup

Kothe momo

I have even seen the terrifically-coloured ‘Green momo’. I am not interested to eat it, though. Oh the creativity of people engages me sometimes.



Whether it be the old grandmother or the bubbly 10 year old boy, everyone loves momos (hold the few special snowflakes who don’t eat anything but imported foie gras or steak tartare perhaps). Whether it be that fancy restaurant or that momo-thela (stall) on the streets, momo is everywhere. Italian restaurant? Oh look, momo! Bakery cafe? Momo! The funny thing is that ‘bakery’ cafe actually holds an annual momo festival in Nepal. In fact, a restaurant’s success and merit is often based on the quality of their momo. The first thing you order in a restaurant? Momo!

Momo is ubiquitous in our daily lives. Whether you like it or hate it, you can’t deny that momo has its own special place in being ‘Nepali’ along with perhaps the song ‘Yo man ta mero Nepali ho’ and the slogan ‘Buddha was born in Nepal’. 

East or west, momo is definitely one of the best things in Nepal.

      How long and tedious the meetings, how long and tedious the journey, and as always Ramsay had chafed beneath the cold, appraising paleness of his father’s gaze. You will not insult Lady Dustin by bringing that creature if you ever hope to rule the North. He had bitten back his retort, as always, humiliation coloring his cheeks and bitterness souring in his mouth. 

      For near to a week he had been restless, crawling. For near to a week he hadn’t known what to do with his hands, had left them clenched in his lap, consumed by an energy frantic and sinuous and itching. A pale hand lingered on the heavy door, stomach twisting with need and deeper need, as Ramsay drew a deep breath and finally pushed it open. 

      He stepped into his bedchamber, stepped from the corridor’s yawning velvet into the candlelit room. Oh, but his Reek was there. Sweet. Loyal. Patient. Waiting. So much tension, so much emotion released with his breath. 


All the World's a Stage

Requested by Anon

Warnings: Fluffy, cute, kissy.

A/N: Okay, I was really excited to write this because, A) I’ve already written a version of Romeo and Juliet that this scene doesn’t quite fit into (find it here!), and B) That means I get to put my own twist onto it! So, though it is dreadfully historically inaccurate (because Shakespeare doesn’t exist yet in Camelot), I decided to go a lá Shakespeare in Love and have them quoting the actual dialogue while, well, you know. Enjoy!

Also, thank you all so much for 400 followers!

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In pop culture, suicide is a big showy act with a clear trigger. Romeo kills himself because he thinks Juliet is dead, Juliet kills herself because Romeo is dead, Riggs wants to die because his wife died, Bruce Banner tried to kill himself because he didn’t like being the Hulk, Luigi swallowed a bunch of poison mushrooms because Daisy dumped him for Birdo after they hit it off on the tennis court. TV Tropes has exhaustive lists of examples of suicide being portrayed as a heroic or manly solution to a crisis. There’s always a direct, tidy cause. Have you been bitten by the zombies? Better eat a bullet so you don’t infect your friends!

But I just … didn’t like my life. I was depressed, I couldn’t stand my job, my writing career was progressing in fits and spurts and I was too immature to know that this was normal, my social life wasn’t what I wanted it to be, my dating life even less so, my rhymes weren’t fresh anymore, I was living in a basement where my “home office” was also my cramped, poorly lit bedroom, in the winter the Sun joined the likes of Sugar Ray and Crazy Bones as something I vaguely remembered existing once long ago, no one was calling me “Tango” even though I insisted I wanted it as a nickname, and I drank and ate shitty food to deal with all of it.

You may recognize this as an assortment of problems that pretty much everyone deals with to one degree or another. No one sets out to make themselves unhappy. No one takes a job or starts a relationship that they know will make their life worse. But sometimes things don’t turn out as planned, and if enough problems stack up, you start drowning. The water rises so slowly that you don’t even notice until it’s over your head. And it’s not that you can’t reach for a life raft – one’s always there in front of you, in the form of talking to someone or making a plan to improve things. You just don’t see the point. The life raft will take years to get to shore, and it will be a tedious journey. Why not just let yourself drown? Why not just let that car hit you?

4 Surprising Things You Learn After Considering Suicide

Starving Artist (Part Two) - C.H. AU

Request: Pt 2 of “Starving artist” when Calum gets famous and he dumps you because of his fame, but after a while he comes back to beg for your forgiveness because you where the only one for him from the start? And little sad please

Summary: Calum gets his artwork discovered and makes it big, but ends up messing up his life big time when adapting to the change in his lifestyle. He realizes he made a huge mistake when he tries to make it right.

Pairing: Calum x Female Reader, Female Reader x Luke

Read: Starving Artist (smut)

A/N: damn anna back at it again with the making things much sadder than it needs to be. ALSO I KNOW NOTHING ABOUT ART AND STUFF SO BEAR WITH ME. 

“We’re gonna be fine, Y/N,” Calum had whispered to Y/N months ago before drifting to sleep. He didn’t believe a word of it at the time. The two were drowning in debt, barely able to afford their small apartment that had next-to-nothing rent as it is, had to pay for university fees, lived off of dollar menus and nonperishables, and really had no hope for the future, but Calum kept his head up. He focused on his art, spending stress-filled hours making sure every painting was absolutely perfect. Calum’s hard work finally paid off when he got a call from a high-end art gallery in America, offering to display and promote his work for thousands of dollars. 

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I am in My Father, and you are in Me, and I am in you. Photo Credit

Have you ever felt like you’re so far away from God? Like sometimes, if you are being honest, you’re just not as connected to Him as you’d like to be. But how is that possible? We are told that God is always close. The Holy Spirit lives in us so how can we possibly feel far away from God? So who or what is the cause of this feeling of far-ness?

God never pulls away from us. Physically, he is always right there. But when we try to live independently, away from Him, when we try to do things our own way, or simply refuse to seek Him in all things, we can feel a disconnect. It’s like He’s in the clouds somewhere, it feels like we have to make a ridiculously long and tedious journey back to Him. I don’t know about you, but sometimes I just feel like staying put. It’s easier to just be without God for a while. The journey back is too daunting. But what a giant lie that is. 

I want to never lose sight of Jesus’s countenance. I wish I could stand firm in my faith at all times, never wavering, never feeling dry, always being filled with God. But that is impossible. There are times I’m going to feel far away. But during the dry times, it is so important to remember that I don’t have to run a marathon just to be close to Him again. I just need to acknowledge that He is here. Right here. In me. 

Communion with God is as simple as acknowledging His presence. I don’t need to feel far away unless I choose to. 

“On that day,” Jesus said, “You will realize that I am in my Father, and you are in me, and I am in you” (John 14:20 NIV)

Christmas Dinner

Request: Hiii :D Uhm can you please do a request where the reader is raised into the hunting business by her Aunt becuase she’s the only one in the family who can handle it (the reader has 2 brothers) and so she left her home and moved in with the winchesters (dean x reader). So every year the reader’s family has a christmas dinner and the Winchesters were invited and the brothers give them a hard time and its fluffy and shit :D You can pick the ending x sorry for it being so specific.

A/N: I deviated from the request a tiny bit- the reader has two brothers, but only one is really concerned about Sam and Dean (I tried with two, but then the characters were weak so I smashed them into one) and the backstory is shifted a tiny bit. It’s not anything too dramatic. Also i think Lexi is also writing this request, so if you don’t like this version another one is coming out soon

Author: Ellie

Pairings: Dean x Reader

Warnings: The reader has bruises from a hunt gone wrong, someone suspects an abusive relationship, fluffy beginning, angsty towards the end/second half (maybe a little too much idk)

Summary: The readers brother guilt trips her into Christmas dinner (telling her to bring her boyfriend, Dean, and his brother, Sam), unaware that the readers aunt trained her to be a hunter when the readers parents were killed by werewolves.

Words: ~2,243

AO3 link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/3195866


“Y/N, you have to come to Christmas dinner.” Your brother Michael commanded over the phone.

“But-” you started, about to make up a crappy excuse, but your brother cut you off.

“No buts Y/N. You didn’t come last year, or the year before or-”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m just busy with… with work.” You said, reverting back to the same lame excuse you pumped out year after year, for Christmas, Easter, birthdays, anything that would require a family gathering.

“You’re coming. It’s at my house this year. And bring your boyfriend and that other guy you live with.” Your brother said, and you groaned.

“His brother?” You supplied, sighing. This was going to be a nightmare. You had to get out of it.

“Yeah, him. What are their names again? Dan and Sean?”

You could never tell whether your brother messed up their names to annoy you, or if he genuinely had no idea.

“Sam and Dean. I swear to god Michael I tell you that every single time we’re on the phone.”

"Yeah, which is never!” He responded angrily.

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