#why are all thigh slangs cuts of meat?

[chasm2018]

Get ready for a thigh Themed Weekend! Things are about to get delicious around here.

#why are all thigh slangs cuts of meat? #hams #shanks #yum

[hunterartemis]

The Assistant: Chapter 4: Employee of the Month

Chapter Summary: a brief history of our heroine’s previous job.

Chapter theme: Dance of the Hours, by Amilcare Ponchielli :https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W3ILbnHhAzk

 word count: 1329 (approximately)

At the end, they didn’t have to endure Newt’s three day old lamb stew, because Maxine politely told Newt, (by politely I really mean exclaiming “eh bon putain”* after taking the first sip) that the stew wasn’t edible anymore.

“Mr. Scamander... I am surprised that you are even alive and healthy after this...” Maxine looked at Newt incredibly, after waving away the stews towards the kitchen counter and got up from the table and went to the hob.

“Miss Page, I really appreciate if you not—we could just go to Leaky Cauldron--” Newt turned himself around to face her, while remaining seated, but Maxine already got out all the ingredients.

“Let’s see... c’est la, c’est la*...” she mumbled along and waved her wand around swiftly, much swifter and crispier than Queenie, in Newt’s opinion. When Queenie made food, it looked like she was conducting a symphony; Maxine looked like a loony artist waving around his paintbrush at random spots, and within a minute, a three course meal was on the table.

“Eh voila... Je présente vous votre diner*.” Maxine sat down as the dishes slowly plopped on the table. Newt and Theseus looked at the dishes curiously and before Newt could reply Theseus spoke.

“What the hell are these even? I never saw any of this in my life!” Theseus exclaimed with half impressed and half annoyed manner.

“As admirable as your patriotism is, but this is gentlemen... this is the real food.” Maxine said proudly, “Navarin, Poulet a la moutard with pasta and chocolate mousse.”* Newt looked at the Navarin with surprise,

“That looks just like my lamb stew...”

“It is... only better, added some seasonings and reversed the aging process...” Maxine said, “How do you think restaurants work...”

“That’s incredible, but I want some English food...” Theseus commented sourly, and Newt frowned at him. “You Brits!” Maxine said with an undiluted French accent, “you go one spend your cabbage* at French Restaurants but when it is right in front of you, you act like a bunch of ponce.”

“Let’s not go there shall we... ” Newt said sternly and dived in. with him Theseus did too, and Maxine smiled covertly at how Theseus was blown away despite himself as he took the first sip of the navarin.

“Told you....” Maxine said triumphantly.

“We are digressing from the point... Miss Page why were you fired?” Newt asked rightaway.

“That escalated quickly...” Theseus took a break from the Navarin and rolled some linguine on his fork, dipped in mustard sauce, while chewing the lamb.

“First of all...” Maxine answered after gulping her stew, “it was not my fault that I was fired. Practically I am the victim here...”

“Oh yeah... tell that to your Head of the Department...” Theseus said a little bit too excitedly and his pasta slipped from his fork.

“Okay, my respected Head of the Department, it was your fault that you denied my suspicion and did the covert operation anyway, which belly flopped, and the budget of our respected department was cut... and that includes my pay.” Maxine stabbed her fork on a chicken thigh.

“I need facts not rants Miss Page...” Newt calmly took a bite of the potato.

“She called Travers an asshat--” Theseus said,

“—for assigning the operation in the Père Lachaise” Maxine replied.

“—it would have been overlooked...” Theseus exasperatedly continued, despite Maxine’s interruption, “if not for her other questionable actions.”

“What questionable actions?” Newt looked at them with curiosity and alarm.

“How should I put this...” Theseus sarcastically added, “She is called the Peeves of the Ministry...”

“Oh, that’s just childish... and only you call me that” Maxine huffed and stuffed herself some linguine.

“Oh yeah? What about the time you pulled one with Carr ...” Theseus turned towards Newt, “it was when you went off to New York, Lucian Carr... that blond fella from our dep—well, you tell him what you did.” Theseus excitedly smashed his carrot and severely looked at Maxine, who shrugged casually.

“He annoyed me. He was flirty and obsessive, and apparently no female has ever said no to him...” Maxine answered while looking at Newt, “and you know what he said when I said he is not my type... “but you’re French? aren’t you supposed to be, you know... liberal” quell salaud*....”she hissed while twirling her linguine.

“So I gave him what he wanted...” Maxine smiled mischievously. Perhaps she was waiting for any of the brothers to raise a voice for what she did for an added drama, but it didn’t happen. Only Theseus frowned, “and you mean?”

“I think you know it better don’t you, since it was you who demoted Carr?” Maxine said, and Theseus impatiently bit his lips, “I think he had some quality phrases for you written in the report...”

“It seemed...” Theseus said unenthusiastically, “Whoever tried to read anything written by Carr would be insulted... but Carr vehemently denied that he wrote anything like it... but later, I found out he was innocent, and could do nothing about it because of the scandal”

Newt said nothing and looked at them quietly.

“We thought she would stop here, but no... She does it again... this time Travers.” Theseus was fuming with rage, “in the middle of one day, he collapsed on the floor, moaning and whimpering. We couldn’t understand what was going on so we took him to St. Mungos, and three minutes later the healers came out of the Emergency room swearing at us...” Theseus was waving his fork around while he spoke.

“Yes I heard about Travers having a heart problem recently and this was a top secret within the Auror department, but I don’t see how Maxine could be responsible--”

“It wasn’t heart problem...” Theseus said it ominously low, “Travers was—he was—according to the healers, he hexed himself to have--”

“To have what?” Newt asked, and Maxine was awfully quiet.

After a long awkward pause Theseus mustered the courage to utter the word “... spontaneous orgasm...”

Newt choked on his pasta and started to snicker, Maxine enthusiastically said, “See, it’s funny... and then there’s you who have to make everything a conspiracy theory... besides, I did you a favour, after that he was mild for week...”

“And what about Veritasereum in his morning tea...?”

“His heart is heavy... he needs muggle Catholicism*” Maxine wiped the last bit of sauce of her plate and wiped her face in the napkin, “besides, how else would you know how much he hates you”

“But if no one could prove it...” Newt interrupted the argument, “how did you know it was her...”

“I just knew okay!” Theseus mouthed casually, “only she is stupid and mad enough to pull these... other people have jobs to protect, but not her...” and then his voice escalated to a more annoyed and angry tone “oh how I curse the day I chose you for my intern... and by Merlin’s pants I curse myself to have sworn to protect you from any blames or accusation put on you rightfully for your antics, just because you were a little above average than the dimwits I had the misfortune to work with...”

The table went awfully quiet. Newt nervously looked at Maxine whose face was unreadable and then he veered to Theseus and he knew what he was thinking, he was regretting the words he said to this beautiful young lady. Both of the Scamander brothers had an old fashioned sense of chivalry in them, Theseus more than Newt and he knew, his elder brother was suffering under his own conscience. But when he thought someone is going to cry or apologise, a small voice broke the silence.

“Thank you for the compliment...” Maxine broke into the chocolate mousse and continued to eat it while the brothers stared at her cool temper with a flabbergasted face. After finishing her food, she stood up, wiping her face and getting into her La perse* coat and gauntlet gloves. “Now if you’ll excuse me gentlemen, I need my beauty sleep. Bon nuit...” she threw some floo powder into the fire from Newt’s mantelpiece and disappeared into the emerald whirl. Newt and Theseus were still in their stupor.

“I think she might be the best assistant I have ever had...” Newt added with crooked smile while nibbling his spoonful of mousse, while Theseus frowned at him. Newt caught a glance at Theseus, who shook his head and smacked Newt at the back of his head. 

“eh bon putain“ (literal: oh good whore) a French slang for “oh fuck”.

“C’est la... c’est la“ translates this “here’s this, there’s that“

“ Je présente vous votre diner “: I present you your dinner.

Cabbage: 1920′s slang for “cash”

Navarin is a heavy and rich French lamb stew. This takes place approximately six months after Paris 1927, which makes it Fall/early winter which is a favorite time of eating the stew. The stew is eaten in a flat plate with pieces of large vegetables and meat on top and about three-five big spoonful of liquid at the bottom. Maxine had to work a little harder because British cook their meat a little longer than the French.

Poulet a la moutard with pasta: Chicken cooked in Mustard sauce, served with Pasta. Yes, French do eat pasta, they are called “pate”. Lamb is usually topped with Dijon Mustard in France (unlike Britain where lamb is served with Mint sauce) so instead of topping, Maxine chose a continuation of taste.

chocolate mousse: we all know what it is... XD

quell salaud: French for “what a bastard!” despite having educated impeccable etiquette and table manners (as a French), Maxine is getting away with her swearing because the brothers cannot understand her.

Muggle Catholicism: she meant by confessing what was pressing in his heart

La perse coat: it is a longline shapeless coat with crushed velvet collar. It rose in popularity in the 1910′s Parisian socialites, and became popular all over Europe and America in the 1920s.

tags: @my-current-fandom-is

#theseus x oc #theseus x reader #employee fanfiction #boss and secretary #1920 #dinner scene #argument turn on #french food #theseus scamander x oc #theseus scamander x reader #newt x reader #newt x oc #newt scamander x reader #newt scamander x oc #cog fanfiction

[buffalohair-gazette]

101 Ways to Prepare Long Pork

RECAP FROM OCTOBER 9, 2010: With food shortages and famine encroaching on civilization it should come as no surprise that alternative food sources will gain more popularity as necessity dictates. The ‘junk’ fish people use to discard will find its way onto the frying pan by thankful and starving anglers in the near future. Bones will become the mainstay rather than Fido’s Scooby Treats; hmm Fido will look pretty tasty as well.

The 3-Day Chicken will become commonplace once again provided there are chickens. But when things get dicey and sustenance becomes nonexistent, for a host of catastrophic reasons, the dead guy lying next to you may very well hold the key to your existence. Welcome to the dark side of survival, where a person is forced to lift a fork and consume a fellow human being in the age old culinary adventure called cannibalism. Guess a person could use chop sticks or a piece of fry bread if they chose to.

Granted this is a very taboo subject and totally unacceptable under most conditions but there are times when dining on others is permissible. Throughout the ages people have been placed in situations where they either died along side others or ate from the flesh of the dead. It was once said that Columbus cut and quartered plump native kids then pickled them in wood casks for his first return trip from the ‘New World’. The Donner Party as well as Al Packer comes to mind in American cannibal lore. An old sailor once told me about an unwritten maritime law where it was OK when stranded in a lifeboat to eat a fellow crewman if they expired before you. The Andes Flight Disaster of Oct. 13 1972 where a Uruguayan airplane crashed in the Andes with a soccer team onboard was a classic case for cannibalism and survival. So please bear in mind that the situation must be extreme before people are added to the menu. And in no way am I condoning human flesh as ‘the other white meat’. Personally I prefer legs and thighs, dark meat please.

Let’s say that you and a group of your friends and family survived the time of change and dodged all the bullets man and nature tossed your way. You’ve built a compound with all the amenities your group needs such as living quarters, kitchen and crapper. Reverting to hunter gatherer techniques the hunters would go out in quest of food for the newly evolving clan. Others would scavenge through the ruins of civilization for just about anything useful to bring back to camp. Building materials, clothing, food and other items would be collected as the budding community grows. Eventually anything that was good would be picked through and all the food stuffs would be gathered. Weeks would pass into months then one day the hunters report that the wild game is disappearing.

As time progresses, the hunters come back empty handed more and more. Food stuffs gathered from the ruins of civilization become depleted and the villagers are getting hungry. Daily, people begin to sicken as starvation and disease sets in. First it’s the elderly then the children start to die. The healthiest people begin to succumb from the pangs of starvation as well. Then a bulb lights up in your head, “Why don’t we eat Uncle Otis? After all, he’s dead anyway.” In all reality there would be allot of soul searching before a fork touched Uncle Otis since it’s not normal to eat people, let alone a relative. Whence all the tears were shed and you made your peace with the Creator it’s time to prepare supper. Where would a person start when it came to eating human flesh? And where is Andrew Zimmern (Bazaar Foods, TLC) when you need him?

Long Pork (LP) has been slang for human meat since time immemorial. Interestingly enough human meat or LP has also been treated like pork since it must be well cooked before consuming. So now you have Uncle Otis on the chopping block. The first thing you should do is to dress him out. No, I don’t mean only take his cloths off but to remove the skin and the internal organs then save. Remove the skinned head and place with organs and skin in bucket. Be careful not to tear or puncture the stomach or intestines since the contents can taint the meat. At this time you should check the liver for spots since that would tell you if the meat is diseased or not. Hopefully Uncle Otis was healthy, other than the fact he starved to death. It is a sure bet he will not have much fat on him. Lean is good since triglycerides and serum cholesterol would still be an issue for some folks. LP is greasy and filled with antibiotics, growth hormones and other nasty chemicals that is in their feed so beware because human is also not Kosher or Halal.

LP would provide needed protein for survival in the form of chops and steaks. The back strap would be small but offer tender cuts of meat. Ribs are ribs and neck bone makes good soup. But if you had a grinder burger would be a good way to deal with other odd cuts of meat a human carcass would glean. With that in mind cleaning the intestines would be an excellent idea since you would be able to make sausage also. Hopefully you would have an abundance of salt to preserve your culinary bounty. If not, then it would behoove you to smoke all the meat for preservation sake. There is debate in some circles as to whether red or white wine should be served with LP. In this instance its rule of thumb that red wine should be served since in all actuality LP is a red meat. A vintage Cabernet Sauvignon would be nice. Side dishes are subject to tastes but if you had side dishes in the first place Uncle Otis would not be on the table. Spices are spices so season to taste and hopefully you packed a couple bottles of garlic salt in your survival pack. Just remember to cook until well done because LP may get you sick if served under cooked like other pork products.

There are other factors to consider as well. Is there water handy? If not and there is no possibility of finding any, you will soon be dead along side Uncle Otis within a week or so even if you drank his urine and blood. Thirst would trump hunger as dehydration turned your flesh into jerky. Delirium would set in well before you ever got hungry enough to stick a fork into Uncle Otis. Madness would ensue as your system shut down. Death would become your liberator. Worse yet, you are captured by others that enjoy the taste of LP who promptly tosses you on a make shift rotisserie. No salt, no pepper, not even a sprig of parsley. You are roasted alive without a hint of seasoning. How barbaric could it possibly be? Just to add insult to injury your captures would dine on your char broiled essence while drinking a poor quality pilsner beer. Have they no shame?

Seasoned or unseasoned there is no question that cannibalism is on the rise around the world. Starvation leads to desperation and cannibalism has taken on a new dimension in this era. Ritualistic cannibalism has gone off the charts as well. This is more ghoulishly macabre by design since it’s not about consuming human flesh for survival; it’s more about consuming people because you like it or some bonehead spirit told you to. The consumption of human fetuses for ritual or virility in stews and stir-fry crosses all continents. The scent of placenta soup still wafts in the air of some old world communities after a child is born. Would feeding fat Burmese refugee babies to leeches in vats of water be considered a form of cannibalism if people ate the leeches?

One such restaurant in Thailand specialized in meals prepared with leeches. Burmese soldiers sell infants to Thai human traffickers who in turn sell plump healthy infants to restaurateurs. The restaurateurs fatten up the child then placed them in vats so the leeches can suck the rich milk fed blood from the infant’s veins. The leeches would get fat and juicy then the chef would pluck one out of the baby/water mixture and into a wok filled with spices, vegetables and shrimp paste. To the joy of exotic food aficionados their dining experience would be complete with a piping hot plate of steamed rice and succulent leeches in its own sauce. The leeches would be semi sweet from milk fat yet maintain their musky and savory leech flavor through the ginger onions, garlic and tamarind.

So back to my moral dilemma, if the leeches are full of human baby blood when they are cooked and served would the person who ate the leeches be a cannibal? Would the diner be more of a cannibal if they knowingly ate leeches filled with baby blood? It is alleged General Than Shwe of Burma has taken part in sacrificial rituals involving the consumption of human flesh on more than one occasion. Ritual murder and cannibalism has become a military terror tactic for this criminal regime as well. Shwe is not the only one who practices this dark ritual, not by a long shot. Supermodel Naomi “Blood Diamonds” Campbell’s sweetie, Charles Taylor of Liberia comes to mind though I doubt Shwe or Taylor dined on leeches filled with baby blood.

If it were not for the fact I heard these eyewitness accounts from Christian missionaries and Karen refugees I would not have fathomed this reality. But after visiting and interviewing the survivors of Burma’s blood soaked regime it became clear torture and death was an excepted part of their normality. The only way to cope with the vivid images of gore from disemboweled bodies hung along pathways or to witness loved ones being butchered to death by a crowd of laughing sadistic soldiers is to raise the bar in what is perceived as sane. If not, a person would surely go mad from all the cruelty they endure.

Many of my Asian friends barely raise an eye brow during a bloody western horror movie. In reality they experienced much worse from barbaric soldiers before they came to America. Ritual cannibalism committed by Burmese soldiers was not a surprise revelation. In fact ritual cannibalism is more common than people think and it’s being performed on every continent, well maybe not Antarctica. From India and the followers of Kali to the USA and the secret sects & societies that roam the countryside, LP is on the menu. Maybe next time someone offers you some home made blood sausage you’ll think twice. Toss in a Kaiser roll some sour kraut and mustard, oh yeah, that’s what I’m talking about.

In closing, eating people is not cool, generally speaking. Under the right conditions having a filet of Fred or a side of Sidney can save your life in the most extreme of conditions. If you have to eat Uncle Otis the right seasoning and preparation will make the most of your cannibalistic culinary adventure. After all, it’s not your fault you are starving to death.

So make the best out of a bad situation with a Cotesdeporc Charcutiere au Otis and a wine of your choosing. Just so you know, eating your neighbors is illegal in most Canadian Provinces though I am not sure about Quebec. It is anybody’s guess in America since politicians are known to eat their young.

But if for some reason your fridge is packed with LP chops and steaks now, you may be in need of an attorney. Ritual, fetish or simply because you enjoy the taste of human flesh is no excuse for cannibalism. The exception to the rule is if you’re one of the forgotten millions of homeless and starving people around the globe, bon appétit.

Your Devil’s Advocate

Buffalohair

#cannibalism #long pork #eating humans #survival news #earth changes

[nyklifsondiviiportfolio-blog]

First Reading Summary, Dragon Myths

February 2, 2017

Dragon Myths, UMass Amherst

Main African Myths

Seismic activity, odd snakes and fish, and Jurassic bones could all be clues to what lead to some terrific dragon myths all over the continent of Africa.Grootslang defies common gender norms by disguising himself as a maiden to lead men to their deaths. Usually dragons go for damsels. Why is this? Many huge dinosaur nests have been found in the area he inhabits. Dahomey mythology included androgyny both give backstory to Aido Hwedo. Maybe that is why it is called rainbow? Is Aido Hwedo in pain because pain is a part of being a warrior, and warriors were respected in this culture?

Apparently one of the oldest dinosaur nests to ever been found is in the Karoo area of Southern Africa. Which is close by to modern day Benin. A Massospondylus nesting site has been found, with eggs and embryos. This dinosaur is a sauropod morph weighing approximately 14 tons and being 13 feet long. With it’s long swiveling neck and huge thigh bones, if someone in ancient times had found a fossil or an egg it would have seemed like a serpent mixed with an elephant or a huge dragon. Dinosaur deposits could explain many of the dragon folklore in South Africa, such as the Grootslang. But then what about some monsters like the Ninki Nanka? Which lives in Gambia and has a horse head, horns, and a giraffe’s neck, but is considered a dragon because of its’ crocodile-like-body.

Grootslang protects the treasures of a diamond mine from all who dare get close. He could possibly signify indigenous people fighting back against colonizers and conquerors whose impacts to this day have killed many locals in draining areas with diamond mines of their labor and natural resources. Grootslang lives in the “Bottomless Pitt” or “Wonder Hole.” Peter Grayson is not the only foreigner to be tempted by the earth’s wonders and to be scared away or slain by this big snake. Apparently a prospector named Travis survived exploration of Grootslang’s lair, but little information could be found on his experiences. Freshwater and land pythons inhabit this area and many odd reptilian cave dwellers with even odder eyes are have been found in caves in the surrounding areas.  

The Zambezi River God, also called Nyami Yamninga Ninga, is a protector of the Tonga people. The name means pieces of meat because he lets his people cut parts of his flesh off to eat in times of famine. Which is interesting considering how many of the other dragon myths in make out these serpents to be more nefarious, but the selection looked at in class is 50/50 of protectors verses vile magical beasts. The Tonga have survived in Zimbabwe for over 900 years, making them one of the main tribes around the Zambezi Valley. Tonga society is patriarchal and wealth can easily be measured in term of cattle. In two different marriage traditions of the area, the daughter’s family is to receive 5-8 cattle or the sum of money that would translate into. This is interesting because Nyami Nyami has a wife whose name I could not find. What is her name? Unlike her husband, no famous sightings have been recorded of her. Why is she so elusive, yet is a key part in the Kariba Dam legend. If Nyami is also portrayed as female, is she a lesbian?  

The host of the show River Monsters thinks that a large endemic catfish called the Vundu could be a possible influence for the Nyami cryptid. This huge freshwater fish can reach over 5 feet and has a serpentine body with powerful jaws. It is strong enough to kill a human. In addition it can survive outside of water. Imagine seeing these wandering around on land? There are other fish that are serpent-like that can survive out of the water that live in freshwater, for example the mudfish is very common to Mid-West Africa.

A cryptid is a creature that may or may not exist, and there are many different snake monsters in the continent of Africa that are cryptids. Some have been carried mainly by oral history, but Mehen is a dragon found in a famous Ancient Egyptian text, The Book of The Dead. In addition there are many paintings of Mehen in tombs and an Old Kingdom board game based on this great serpent. Egyptian Eels and large crocodiles occupy The Nile River and could possibly be one source for imagery of this water goddess who protects Ra. The Egyptians had a specific hieroglyph for Serpent which is used to describe Mehen. She is also an Ouroboros, sometimes depicted eating her own tail in jewelry and in mastaba-tomb imagery. Another Egyptian deity is Nehebu-Kau, a two-headed snake originally showen with both upper and lower kingdom ruler’s headdresses. This creature has the world resting on top of it, similar to Aido Hwedo.

Why is Aido Hwedo rainbow? This myth comes out of Yoruban stories telling of a ouroboros that is similar to Atlas in that  he holds the world on his back and is hurting because of the weight. Looking further into the Dahomey culture that helped form this dragon myth can give some insights into subverting gender norms considering this culture had an all female military unit. These women were known for their bravery. In addition a practice existed where castrated men would be “royal wives” for the king. These practices are based on older kingdoms in the area such as the Vodun. This beast was created by the dual-gendered god Mawu-Lisa which are twins birthed from an androgynous parent named Nana-Buluku. In addition Mawu-Lisa has a child named So, which is also a gender-nonconforming deity. What about him disliking heat? Is this and explanation for why snakes are cold blooded?

Ouagadou-Bida came out the ancient Kingdom of Ghana, a trade hub north of the Niger river. It was a wealthy kingdom with a patriarchal society that was very stratified. The head being cut off many times in this myth might symbolise the invasion by Almoravids on the capital, Koumbi Saleh. And then the 200 years of smaller invasions by neighboring kingdoms and how the loss of trade and being absorbed into what became the Kingdom of Mali. This story involves a more typical western dragon who wants a female sacrifice once a year. A warrior, who is apart of one of the higher-up classes in Ancient Ghana is able to slay this dragon, but causes a draught. There could have been a terrible drought that shrank the Niger river making trade harder?

Isa Bere could just be crocodiles killing people and the Dragon of Silene could just be a colonization myth. These are options for origins of these two slain beasts. Isa Bere is also another name for the Niger River. Is he just a river spirit? Is this the Niger creation story? These could be explanations for bad times in both cultures. Both also could reinforce the state. For example, King Samba apparently killed 80 rival chieftains. Could these fallen leaders be the reality of Isa Bere?   

Sources Used: (not all of these are academic or source checked)

Biological Sciences - Evolution - Physical Sciences - Geology: Robert R. Reisz, David C. Evans, Eric M. Roberts, Hans-Dieter Sues, and Adam M. Yates

Oldest known dinosaurian nesting site and reproductive biology of the Early Jurassic sauropodomorph Massospondylus PNAS 2012 109 (7) 2428-2433; published ahead of print January 24, 2012, doi:10.1073/pnas.1109385109

Mysterious Creatures: A Guide to Cryptozoology

By George M. Eberhart

http://chronicle.augusta.com/stories/1998/09/20/ent_239491.shtml#.WJFyVWQrIy5

World heritage encyclopedia

With uplifted tongue stories, myths and fables of the South African Bushmen, told in their manner.

Women and World Religions - Lucinda Joy Peach

https://owlcation.com/humanities/Gay-Themes-in-Ancient-Mythology

http://kitweonline.com/kitweonline/discover-kitwe/culture/ceremonies/marrying-the-tonga-way.html

SOUL SEX: Queer & Androgynous Deities Excerpt from Soul Sex: The Alchemy of Gender and Sexuality by Drake Bear Stephen BA, CHT

The Secret Saturdays episode "Something in the Water" starts off with a depiction of grootslang

http://www.animalplanet.com/tv-shows/river-monsters/fish-guide/vundu-catfish/

http://dinosaurs.about.com/od/herbivorousdinosaurs/p/massospondylus.htm

http://www.mastersofgames.com/rules/mehen-rules.htm

http://allaboutfunandgames.com/how-to-play-the-ancient-egyptian-board-game-of-mehen

http://wozzaworks.com/nyaminyami.asp

https://books.google.ca/books?id=GKrACS_n86wC&pg=PA156&vq=Groot+Slang&source=gbs_search_r&sig=ACfU3U0hksfmkdlcjayAuYh1IE4tPG2SXw&hl=en#v=onepage&q=Groot%20Slang&f=false

http://mieliestronk.com/rivierdam.html

https://www.thefreelibrary.com/Waterslangverhale+in+Afrikaans%3a+die+relevansie+van+mitisiteit.-a0123122232

http://www.ushistory.org/civ/7a.asp

http://www.ancient.eu/Ghana/

http://www.mythologydictionary.com/samba-mythology.html

http://www.thaliatook.com/AMGG/aidawedo.php

[originaldetectivesheep]

The Thirty and One Nights' Momentary Diversion - Nikushokujoshi

Tonight's story is strictly for mature audiences: those who can read through the beginning without flipping out until they see where it goes in the end, and then also those who can get through the end without being scandalized or throwing up everywhere.

Nikushokujoshi

I snapped a picture of the udon bowl and tweeted it out: noodles topped with thick, fragrant pork belly and a runny fried egg.  You really could get anything in Tokyo.  I laid my phone back down on the bar of the ticket diner and picked up my chopsticks; in three months, I'd gotten pretty good, and I could come in to little places like this and not have to worry if anyone would be able to understand when I asked for a fork.

I looked out the corners of my eyes around the place as I slurped my noodles.  There weren't any other gaijin or otaku in here; it looked just like normal Japanese people, like you'd see anywhere, despite being in Akiba.  Everyone else would probably go to a maid cafe for lunch; I'd kind of gotten over maids like two weeks after I landed, and now, since I only had the week left, I wanted to see a little more, experience a little more, than just school and anime and games and events – something more, like, maybe Japan the way Japanese people found it.  I picked up one of the pieces of pork, concentrating carefully to make sure I didn't drop it, and it must have been then that she came in, because I'm sure that I would have noticed her otherwise.

She sat in right beside me – right, right there, the outside of her leg sliding against mine, and it had to be intentional, because there weren't so many people in the diner that she couldn't've sat somewhere else – anywhere else.  She laid her ticket on the counter, pointing out the gyuudon – oomori – with a rattle of gyal slang, and then she must have noticed me, staring at her almost in shock.  "Hello," she said, reaching across with her right hand, her upper arm pressing her cleavage together, "you are American?"

"Y-yes," I stammered, laying my chopsticks down across my bowl to reach up with a hesitant hand – was this really happening?  "Amerikajin desu."

She smiled brightly, seemingly all the way across her perfect, heart-shaped face, and seized my hand with a firm, soft, grip that was half a caress.  "Oh!  Good Japanese!  Konnichiwa, Amerikajin; I am Mishima Minami – you can call me Minami."  She was leaning almost on top of me, her deep brown doe eyes staring straight into mine.

"H-hello, Minami-san," I said, very not sure of what to make of her: her fine features and her long, deep-black hair, fragrant with some kind of shampoo, were pure Japanese, but barely any Japanese girl I'd met in three months acted like this – and definitely not with me. "I'm Andy – Andy Weston.  Andy is fine."  I blinked, pushing my glasses back to be sure I was seeing her right – she had the generous curves of a gravure idol, and her tight jeans and low-cut scoop-neck blouse were showing them off to full effect.  This couldn't be real – this had to be a setup, a variety show skit in progress.  Where was the camera?

"Andy," she said back, and there was something in the way she said it that made my heart skip a beat and jump, "so, do you enjoy Japan?"

I nodded, once, then vigorously.  "Yes – very much."

"You are here for vacation?"

"No," I said, "for university exchange.  I'm a student – I was at Waseda for the last three months."

"Oh!" Minami said, her mouth falling open with admiration, "Waseda! Very smart!"

I rubbed the back of my neck with my left hand.  "At Waseda, maybe not so smart.  I passed all my classes, but it was very difficult. Going back to Cal, my college in America, will be easy after that."

She pressed her hands together in front of her; she had to know what that did to her breasts, what they were doing to me.  "You go back to America?  Just three months only?"

I nodded, trying not to stare.  "Yes; I have this week for vacation, and then another week at home to adjust, and then the new term starts in America.  But, I wish I could stay longer."

Minami nodded.  "Sou. Just one week then; need to make a good memory."  The counterman brought her order out, and she bowed a brief thanks across as she picked it up, steaming beef piled up high on the rice, and then started in on it, her tongue flicking out erotically to lift each mouthful off her chopsticks.  I tried to concentrate on my own bowl to keep losing my mind – and then felt her hand, almost in my lap, squeezing along my inner thigh.

I stopped, nearly choking on my udon, but Minami didn't seem bothered at all.  "Andy, do you like Japanese woman?"

"Y-yes," I answered, as soon as I could manage, as best as I could, staring straight down at my bowl, my face as red and as steaming as the pork in it.  Her hand was still there.

"Do you like me?"  So straight – so forward – I didn't know how to answer.  I looked up, to see how she was looking at me, saying something like that, and she wasn't, barely – she was focused on her lunch, gulping down her meat with what looked like an insatiable appetite.

"M-Minami-san, yes, you're very pretty, but – it's just – it's just so sudden – I don't know if I – I – I'm not used to this."  It had to come out; her hand was still on my thigh, and in another minute or two I might just collapse and worship at her feet.

She nodded, turning towards me, her chopsticks still in the air.  "Yes; different, probably, from other Japanese girl.  You have girlfriend?"

"No," I said, looking down again.  "Never."

"Then, it's good," she said, turning back to the remains of her beef bowl.  "I like you, so you can like me, and we can make the good memory in your time left."  She squeezed along my thigh, stroking back from my knee.

"I – Minami-san, it's just – it's – you're so beautiful, and I'm – I can't understand – why –"

"I like foreigner," she said, simply and plainly between bites, "and you are foreigner, and not have girlfriend, and it's one week only.  It's okay?"

I nodded; I could accept it, even if I wasn't sure that Beat Takeshi or someone wasn't hiding under the counter.  "Yes – it's okay." I tried to look up over my glasses.  "I – it's just – in Japan, I wasn't –" and I must have looked down at my lap, because she started, and slipped her hand quickly up on top of my leg.

"Oh! Sorry," she said.  "I think foreigner like this.  And also, I'm… niku-shoku joshi no koto tte, shiteru?"  I nodded; I'd heard the expression.  A man-eater.  "I'm sorry, if I go too fast.  I like to, eat mens.  kamu, kamu." She mimed the play-bites, then smiled, eyes sparkling.  "It's not okay?"

I shook my head.  "No, it's okay.  It was just – sudden."

Minami smiled wider, and scooted her stool tight in close to mine.  "Then, it's okay."  Her hand was on my thigh again, feeling, caressing, sliding higher up.

Somehow I got out of the ticket diner in one piece and with clean pants, and this sudden, whirlwind, windfall date with a dream idol went on. Through three arcades, the Tolim mall at the station, drinks in a back-alley yakitori bar somewhere off Ginza after a subway ride that had been mostly an excuse for her to wrap herself around me, smothering me with her body to 'give other people space', and through it all I couldn't miss it that everyone, everyone, was staring at us, staring laser-beam daggers through the nebbishy Western ginger otaku who somehow had this perfect goddess draping herself love-love all over him.  We got away from it, finally, in a karaoke place, back in Akiba, no idea about where – my head was reeling, flying high on Minami-chan, her scent, her touch, her everything.  In the karaoke box it was just the two of us, the lights low, the meaning unmistakable, and it wasn't two songs gone, our drinks barely touched, before she was in my lap, her arms twisted around me, kissing me first softly, then deeply, hungrily, like she was trying to tear me apart with her tongue and devour me with her lips.  I'd never barely kissed before, let alone like this, and it was all I could do to respond, to reply somehow to her advances, to hope not to disappoint her.

Somehow I got the idea that I should strip her, help her take her clothes off; I could do this, and Minami would like it, and I could show her that I wasn't just a chunk of meat for her to gobble up.  I pushed the hem of her shirt up, her body electric under my hands as as I slid them up, pushing her shirt up until it caught on her bra.  I stopped, almost shocked – here I was in a dark karaoke box, tongue-locked with a passionate Japanese girl straddling me, grinding her porn-star body against mine, and I had no idea how to even take her bra off.  Minami must have felt me stiffen and stop, because she stopped as well, breaking the kiss and drawing back a little.

"No," she said, stroking her hand down the side of my face.  "Not here.  We go to my room; we do it right."  She leaned in to kiss me again, pulling my upper lip back between hers, then rocked back to settle her shirt down.

"Not a hotel?" I asked as I pushed myself up, checking that I was still decent."

Minami smiled the smallest smile, her eyes almost shining in the dark. "Da-me.  No hotel.  I want all of you.  All night.  We go to my room."  She kissed me again, then slid off of me, onto the couch, towards the door, her hand lingering on my crotch; I nodded and followed after.

Minami led me by the hand through the tangle of darkened streets and blurry, half-blotted neon, the sky through the buildings over our heads crazy and foggy and distorted with a million colliding outflows of streetlights and buildings and blazing signs.  We turned around past a kebab shop – I think – and then we were in the well of her building, one of those anonymous blocks of three or five or seven stories that crowds the back streets of Akiba, a game company or a T-shirt store on the first level and then cheap apartments above.  We almost ran the stairs, Minami pulling me up higher, higher, faster, faster, and then fell through her door with barely a click of the key in the lock.

As soon as the door shut behind us she was all over me again, her tongue down my throat, her hands tugging at my shirt, yanking at my belt; in seconds we were both naked, and she was pushing me with her magnificent body – breasts soft and firm and round and perfectly balanced, her hips and her rear like the Greeks might have sculped on Isis – through the genkan and to the bathroom door.  I got barely a whisper of the sense of the rest of her apartment; dark, close, furnished in a strangely old style with long, deep chests low along all the walls – before I was inside in the light, on the tiles, Minami's kisses nibbling at my neck, my nipples, further down as she pushed me down onto a shower stool and the water hissed on warm and soft down around us.  She squeezed out a handful of shampoo or body lotion into her hand and worked up a lather, filling the room with her scent, and spread it over herself – and then onto me, scrubbing me with her body like a Yoshiwara hostess.

When she'd had her fill of soaping me up this way, running all of my parts between her breasts, through her cleft, she pushed me in closer, under the falling water of the shower head, to wash all the suds away.  The water fell all around us, but I barely noticed as she kissed me, teased me, played with me, caressed me, her breasts pressing like soft mountains into my back as her hands made sure to clean off every inch, leaving me pink and clean and bright.  I was so lost in it – her scent, her touch, her sensual voice, her taste on my lips – that I didn't barely even notice the cold shock, then the hot shock, as the blade passed through my neck from one side to the other, then slashed out the front of my throat.

It took a moment – a moment to realize that the red that was pouring over me was blood, my own blood, that the pain was that I'd been slaughter-cut, that the haze in my eyes was that I was losing blood at a rate of gallons and my brain was shutting off – that my brain was shutting off and I was lying sprawled on the floor because I no longer had the ability to sit up, that I was looking up at Minami with a bloody knife in her hand because she had slashed open my throat with no more thought than you'd cut a watermelon.  She laid the knife down on the rim of the bathtub and did something over by my feet – over where my feet must be, I couldn't see, couldn't turn my head – and then stood up with a "yoi'shiyotto" and a tug on a rope, and I found myself straightening out, upside down, the blood flowing back up over my chin, catching in the patches of my beard.  Above me, my feet were tied together, close by some kind of pulley running over what had looked like a shower curtain rod.  I was being hung up – I was being hung up to drain.

My head dropped back, and even through the haze, and being upside-down, I could see Minami, still naked, setting our her torture implements: a hatchet, a saw, long-bladed butcher's knives, freezer bags – no, not torture.  I was dying – I was dying already, I would be dead before she could make another cut in me. Freezer bags – those chests – freezer chests – and I was bleeding out – I would be butchered – nikushoku – and she – she ––– those unearthly lights in her eyes ––

#fiction #30and1nights