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Okay. Golbat was... something? Not like I had move variety. At least Fearow had Drill Peck and that was neat, but here... Oh boy.
Up to Brock: Moveset: Leech Life, Supersonic, Bite Yet again dealing with the Squirtle. The only move you can hit him with is Leech Life. I thought I was done, especially with the Tail Whips he kept throwing at me. The guy took way too long to hit me with Tackle, so I guess he got greedy and I won because of it. I figured I'd at least be okay to beat Brock with Leech Life and Supersonic, and I fought Buzz, but forgot Gary 1A. Oh well? I was able to use Supersonic to help defeat both Geodude and Onix this time. This is the one status Brock can't Full Heal. Trying to use Leech Life wasn't really helping, but Bite was doing better, as I could stop Bide with Supersonic hax and Bite flinch chance.
Up to Misty: Moveset: Leech Life, Supersonic, Bite, Confuse Ray Got the good move here. I didn't have much trouble using Leech Life and Bite to beat everyone on the way. Surprisingly, I picked up a wild Jigglypuff for the shot at an early Strength user and got Pidgey. Just made sense to catch Jigglypuff again, considering I played with it last time, even if it was unoptimal. I picked up Confuse Ray on the way to Misty, beat her Gym trainers, and decided to try Gary 2 instead of her, as I still had a little Zubat. I beat Pidgeotto with Confuse Ray and Bite, used Abra to heal, and beat Rattata and Squritle with Bite. I evolved into Golbat after this fight. Then I picked up the S.S. Ticket and went to Misty. While I took a reset here, I beat Starmie with Bite... I think Bite was still stronger than a super-effective Leech Life.
Up to Surge: Moveset: Same Starting to hate the 'no good moves yet' thing. I caught the Oddish a bit later than usual because... I forgot! But I got him. Bite and Confuse Ray are godsends up to now. I fought several of the trainers on the boat before going to Gary 3 and kicking his butt. Didn't need much more than Bite... again... I think pretty much every Pokemon before now made me spoiled on their movesets. When I fought Surge, I won first try. Confuse Ray saved my butt.
Up to Erika: Moveset: Swift, Wing Attack, Bite, Confuse Ray Catching the Diglett for Dig, as I had no Paras. Rock Tunnel gave me a few concerns with Dudley/Boomer. My man here blew up on me a lot, but I just had to Confuse Ray my way through it. I upgraded Leech Life to Swift just to have a stronger move. As for Wing Attack... I think I HAD to learn this move. We'll get to why near the end. Otherwise, Gary 4 wasn't too hard. Swift and Wing Attack carried me through this. And Wing Attack didn't even OHKO Exeggcute. I am disappoint. Oh well. Wartortle took Swifts and Bites. I went to get some Proteins in the Celadon Mart, and I picked up a Poke Doll because I was sure I'd need Mimic for the endgame. Turned out to be right. Either way, I beat Erika with Wing Attack. Didn't have to deal with much for Vileplume and Victreebel. Tangela is still a weakling.
Up to Koga: Moveset: Double-Edge, Wing Attack, Mega Drain, Confuse Ray I wasn't sure I NEEDED Mega Drain to beat Giovanni 1, but it didn't make sense to not get it. As such, Mega Drain beat him, and I picked up Double-Edge for actual power. The Kangaskhan wasn't even a problem. I then went to the Pokemon Tower to save Mr. Fuji, so that was quick. Wing Attack was strong enough to one-shot the Gastlys. Somehow. Well, then I woke up the Snorlax and crossed Cycling Road. Then Koga blew up on me at the end, killng Golbat, but as Golbat was the only one who fought, I still consider it a win. Neither Double-Edge or Wing Attack was enough to one shot any of his Pokemon. Even the Koffings.
Up to Sabrina: Moveset: Double-Edge, Wing Attack, Mega Drain, Mimic I made my usual path to Silph Co. and tried to beat Rival Fival. For the first time in a bit, I had to take some resets here. I wandered around Silph Co. and beat most, if not all of the other trainers, jumping from Level 41 to 48. MAN!! The time will take a dive... like it hasn't already for Brock. Anyway, leveling up that much gave me the power to defeat him. Pidgeot went down to Double-Edge, Growlithe and Exeggcute died quick, Alakazam had to take a Double-Edge, and Mega Drain eventually ended Blastoise. I used several of the items to buff Golbat's stats on the way, too. Got the Lapras for Surf. Giovanni 2 eventually went down, and Sabrina caused a reset by the time I got to Alakazam. I got the idea to get Mimic now and try something on my second attempt. I taught Mimic and when I got to her Mr. Mime, I copied Light Screen and used it through Confusion confusing me. I won that time.
Up to Blaine: Moveset: Same. First time I ever reset to Blaine. Arcanine's Fire Blast burned me. I won on the second attempt. Keep in mind that I was Level 51 by this point. Still lost to Blaine. I did Mimic Agility from Growlithe to help, though. I used Wing Attack to try to conserve help leading up to Arcanine, at least.
Up to Giovanni 3: Moveset: Same, again. Once I made it to Giovanni, I had the ingenious idea to Mimic Dig, but this was for the Nidos only. I used Mega Drain for all the others. AGAIN... Ground type user... weak to his own type. Will this ever not bug me?
Gary 6: Moveset: Will be the same forever. Mimicked Agility off of Pidgeot just for the Badge Boosts. Now I can boost Special, too, thanks, Blaine! I rammed Pidgeot, drained Rhyhorn, rammed Growlithe, slapped Exeggcute with my wings, and rammed Alakazam, draining Blastoise down for the last bit. This run has had Golbat using his teeth the whole run.
Elite Four: Moveset: Same Had to level up quite a bit. I made it to the fastest I could possibly be with all the Carbos' that I found. I even killed Moltres and picked up the last possible Rare Candy in the Power Plant.
Lorelei: Surprisingly was very consistent. Use Double-Edge to force it to rest, use Mega Drain to kill it, and just drain Cloyster. Mimic Amnesia off of Slowbro, and then Drain it, Double-Edge Jynx, and drain Lapras.
Bruno: Drain Onix, Wing Attack on the Fighting types.
Agatha: The reason I kept Wing Attack was this old biddy. This was the only move Golbat had that could hit Ghost types. And Mimicking Night Shade may be an option for higher levels, but when I first tried it, Wing Attack outdamaged it on a crit, so I kept spamming it. Her Golbat and Arbok can go down fast with Double-Edge. Maybe Arbok will Screech you and that can help?
Lance: I used two Double-Edges to kill Gyarados, and I Mimicked Agility yet again, used one of the Dragonairs to get health back for Aerodactyl, because the crits can ruin you. I used Double-Edge for Dragonite by the end.
Champion Gary: Started off by Mimicking Sky Attack, there is no way Wing Attack is killing Exeggutor in one shot, I then tried to end it with Sky Attack, but it kept choosing to miss, so I hit it with Double-Edge, and killed Alakazamn the same way. I then used Mega Drain on Rhydon. Arcanine died to a Sky Attack after I took an Ember. I used Sky Attack on Exeggutor, and yes, it used Hypnosis, but I woke up immediately, got Stomped, and then rammed it as a fiery bird. Felt so satisfying with the animation. Blastoise died to Mega Drain.
My time was 6:26, and Level 74.
Rankings: 1. Blastoise: 63, 3:32, 8 resets. (Blizzard, Withdraw, Surf, Earthquake) 2. Nidoking: 67, 3:43, 8 resets. (Body Slam, Blizzard, Earthquake, Thunderbolt) 3. Venusaur: 62, 3:47, 7 resets. (Body Slam, Swords Dance, Sleep Powder, Razor Leaf) 4. Charizard: 66, 3:59, 10 resets. (Earthquake, Body Slam, Flamethrower, Swords Dance) 5. Raticate: 68, 4:17, 13 resets (Blizzard, Dig, Body Slam, Thunderbolt) 6. Ninetales: 67, 4:28, 11 resets (Flamethrower, Body Slam, Mimic, Dig) 7. Nidoqueen: 67, 4:29, 11 resets. (Earthquake, Blizzard, Body Slam, Thunderbolt) 8. Clefable, 67, 4:39, 4 resets. (Body Slam, Psychic/Blizzard, Minimize, Thunderbolt) 9. Wigglytuff, 66, 4:41, 6 resets. (Thunderbolt, Body Slam, Psychic/Blizzard, Defense Curl) 10. Butterfree: 66, 4:53, 28 resets. (Mimic, Sleep Powder, Psychic, Mega Drain) 11. Sandslash: 67, 5:00, 11 resets. (Body Slam, Rock Slide, Swords Dance, Earthquake) 12. Arbok: 71, 5:28, 27 resets. (Mimic, Earthquake, Body Slam, Rock Slide) 13. Raichu: 63, 5:29, 5 resets. (Thunderbolt, Mimic, Agility, Seismic Toss) 14. Fearow: 73, 6:00, 30 resets. (Drill Peck, Mimic, Agility, Swift) 15. Golbat: 74, 6:26, 12 resets. (Double-Edge, Wing Attack, Mega Drain, Mimic) 16. Beedrill: 65, 6:55, 23 resets. (Swords Dance, Mega Drain, Double-Edge, Twineedle) 17. Pidgeot: 76, 7:16, 13 resets. (Mimic, Agility, Double-Edge, Fly)
Next is Vileplume! Hopefully it ends up being better.

Skin type and concerns: Combo, dehydrated, sensitive skin. Sometimes oily around the T-zone. Some redness around nose and cheeks. I’m using retinol, so there are ocassional issues with skin flaking around the nose and cheeks.
Skin tone: Neutral tone, korean shade 21. For reference: Gobi in Nars foundations, 2 in Fenty Eaze Drop, Flax in Clinique foundations.
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Innisfree No-Sebum Powder Cushion Shade 17n This is a godsend for sensitive skin. I bought it 3 months ago and I use it whenever my skin feels irritated. Feels so lightweight and doesn’t break me out. In the description they say that it is supposed to give matte finish but on my skin it is rather natural or slightly dewy. I like how it looks but settles into my smile lines like crazy! Is not transfer-proof at all but fades gracefully. There is no scent. 4/5 MR
Amuse Meta Fixing Vegan Cushion Shade 1.5 This is the cushion I’ve got one week ago and it is my favourite out of all. It gives such an unique finish, truly velvety and my skin is so soft to the touch. There is no scent or very little because I personally can’t smell anything. It is transfer-proof, not 100% but I’m not expecting any foundation to be fully transfer-proof. Feels nice on the skin and provides great coverage. 5/5 HG!
Clio Kill Cover Founwear Cushion All New Shade Linen I love the puff and packaging but it broke me out terribly. I bought it 2 months ago and used it two times, then my skin started to break out and I connected the dots lol. I think it happened because of the strong fragrance :( But I think it looked really pretty on my skin, glowy but not oily, didn’t get cakey after a whole day. It’s a shame that my skin didn’t agree with this one. 3/5 WNR
Rom&nd Bare Water Cushion Shade 03 natural 21 I love the idea of this one but sadly it isn’t my favourite. I’ve been using it for 4 weeks along with other cushion foundations. There is a cooling effect when you apply it and it feels amazing especially in hot summer days. The coverage is barely there – I have tried many skin tints but this one is literally almost transparent. I think someone with already nice skin can enjoy this cushion but my redness isn’t even neutralized after applying it so I would have to apply several layers or use concealer. The scent was nice but overwhelming and irritating for my skin. 3.5/5 WNR (mostly because of the fragrance)
Moonshot Micro CorrectFit Cushion Shade 201 This was my first cushion foundation and it is just okay. I’ve bought it a year ago. The shade I chose (201) was perfect, more yellow toned than I expected but matched my neck really well. It rubbed off quite easily but never looked cakey. It smells like a regular sunscreen. The packaging is pretty! 4/5 MR
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Cushion foundations I want to try: Rom&nd Nu Zero Cushion, Jung Saem Mool Essential Skin Nuder Cushion, Cosrx Full Fit Propolis Cushion, Peripera Mood Vegan Glow Cushion

Hello! $10 minimum purchase with $4 flat rate (minimum). For multiple items, please PM your zip code & the items you’d like (also comment please) so I can give you a more accurate shipping cost. As per rules, PayPal only. Conditions are noted and additional pics can be requested. Smoke free home and items will be cleaned before shipment, as they’ve collected dust. For additional questions please ask. Bundle of $35 or more includes free shipping. Pics attached below.
EYESHADOW PALETTES:
Colourpop ‘Of Quartz’ - dark muted shades, black, taupe, browns. 4 mattes, 5 shimmers. Hardly ever touched/used. $6
Too Faced ‘Sweet Peach’ palette - summespring shades. Never reach for this anymore. Swatched and used a handful of times but so much product left for each shade. $15
Controversy palette - Rather not keep anymore and barely used. Fair condition but has a lot of product still. $5
FACE PRODUCTS:
Elf Halo Glow - Shade 2. 2nd lightest shade. Be warned, these are very warm toned and slightly orange when applied to the face! It just didn’t work for me and it was too dark. Barely used. $8
Lancôme teint idole ultra wear all over concealer - Shade ‘ivory N 090’. Light with neutral undertones. Barely used. $15
LA Pro concealer - GC987 shade ‘Beautiful bronze’. Like new condition, only swatched. $2
Fenty match contour stick - In shade ‘Amber’. Just didn’t work for me. Beautiful product and used three times. $25
Rare Beauty liquid blush - In shade ‘Lucky’. Used a few times. Very pigmented but too bright on me. $12
Physician’s Formula butter bronzer - Has a lot of product left. Don’t care for it anymore. $8
Elf putty blush New - New in original packaging. In shade ‘Bora Bora.’ Heard it was a dupe for the Rare Beauty liquid Blush ‘happy’ shade. $5
POWDERS
HUDA Beauty baked powder - Translucent powder in shade ‘Sugar Cookie’. Used TWICE. So much powder left. $30
Beauty bakerie powder - Translucent loose powder. Worked as well as the HUDA one. Used a few times and has a lot of powder still. $14
LIP PRODUCTS
Haus lab (3) - Swatched. Didn’t work for me. I have three of their lip glosses. First shade ‘Riot’ a fuchsia berry color. Second shade ‘Ethreal’ pinky shade. Third shade ‘Entranced’ glitter gold shade. $3 each or $7 for all three.
Colourpop (2) - Luxe lip glosses Hello Kitty and Friends winter edition packaging. Both pink shades. ‘So chilly’ lighter pink and ‘Big bow’. Both shimmery. $2 each or $3 for both
Fenty beauty Cream - lip gloss in shade ‘Cupcakin’. Originally came in limited edition trio set but I use the other two. This one was swatched and didn’t work for me. $10
https://imgur.com/a/rXjVV2e

In today's society, food is not given very much thought. It’s a simple need that must be satisfied three times a day, in our frying pans at home or in the booths of a diner. Each of us has our preferences, our Thanksgiving lineups, and our hole-in-the-wall shops. But for me, there is a food that stands out, transcends being an enjoyable meal, and serves a greater purpose. It both influences and is influenced by culture, history, memory, industriousness, capitalism, health, evolution, adaptation, and our own flaws as human beings. It is easy to take our food for granted, so I find it only proper to pay homage to what might be my favorite class of dish. It also happens to be among the most forgettable. No other food is more profound to me than ramen noodles.
Ramen is old, and not necessarily novel. It isn’t technically Japanese, either. The first recorded existence of ramen was isolated to the Yokohama Chinatown, just south of Tokyo, dating back to the late 1800s. It commanded a cult-like appreciation amongst Chinese immigrants living in Japan, working to maintain what little fragments of their culture they could, but living in Japan would ultimately sever most ties to their homeland. Ramen remained prevalent, and countered the distance decay through brute strength. It was simple, based upon Chinese hand-pulled noodle soup, and derived from pork dishes like Char Siu. It was a humble pork broth with chopped wheat noodles, a few seasonings, and a pinch of salt. Ramen remained this way for half a century, until being circulated throughout Northern Japan upon the wheeled carts and stalls of food merchants, becoming a staple street-food alongside Gyoza dumplings.
My first encounter with ramen is a rather insignificant memory. It filled a mundane purpose in my young life. It was cheap, readily available, and I could prepare it for myself. As things were then, these were the only types of food I could eat. Alongside Cheerios and PB&Js, ramen was the greater part of my diet (in amount, not quality). I never gave much thought towards the noodles themselves. I popped a package into a bowl of water, nuked it for three minutes, mixed the seasoning packet in, and ate as soon as the ramen was cool enough to scald my throat. Food was never important to me then, merely fuel in the tank, the means to surpass a routine obstacle in my day to day. My meals weren’t special in any way, how could they be?
Ramen wasn’t anything special in the nineteenth century, a food in a foreign land, doing whatever it could to generate profit for Japanese lower-class merchants by providing for Japanese middle-class laborers and preserving the subjugated culture of Chinese immigrants in a harsh land. There was a consistency between every seller that was appreciated, and it performed its role as a cultural anchor as well as could be expected in the dynamic shift that hit economically expanding Japan, abandoning tradition in favor of industry. Everything changed when the US dropped the nukes.
After Japan lost World War II, it was occupied by the US military to ensure a smooth transition from an Imperial dictatorship to Nintendoland. Up until 1952, the US had complete authority (and responsibility) over the growing food crisis. You see, the Rising Sun had plunged deep into the Asian continent and had grown to rely on forcible rice exports from China and Manchuria. After relinquishing its western claims, Japan succumbed to the worst rice shortage in its entire history. Luckily, the USA was in the business of fostering capitalist “utopias” in communist neighborhoods, and America was ready to bring home the bacon and show off its bread and butter.
The Japanese market was flooded with wheat flour and pork products, subsidized by the United States' own wartime super-production. In Japan, meat and bread became incredibly prevalent, with bread consumption between the years of 1948 to 1951 increasing from 262,211 tons to 611,784 tons, meaning the Japanese diet had a need for a dish that made use of the highly imported wheat product and prevalence of pork products. One food, remaining dormant within Japanese culture, became an overnight sensation. Ramen surged in popularity, benefitting from the USA’s surplus and the rapid acculturation of Chinese immigrants within the Japanese Empire over the course of a very bloody regime
Ramen remained inert in my diet as a reliable supplement when home cooking and restaurants remained a distant fantasy. However, after a rapid transition from the crumbling sidewalk-burbs of Converse, Texas, to the bustling metropolis of Houston, Mars, my lifestyle shifted. All of the mansions and villas I walked past had two stories, a detached garage, and cultivated lawns. Some neighborhoods had gates and guards. I discovered restaurants that charged multiple dollars for tacos. To almost be run over by a clueless Tesla driver became a common occurrence. It was a major culture shock, for me at least, and my diet reflected that. I still ate cereal for breakfast, but for lunch, I enjoyed an assortment of seared slabs of meat, salads, and starches, even at school, and at restaurants I ordered sides! Moving affected every aspect of my life, but the way I ate was an immediate and dramatic change, more well-suited for the way I felt inside. Safe, happy, and free to explore. But I would be lying if I said I didn’t feel homesick– not for my old school or my old friends, but for my old food.
Ramen in a bowl, run through the microwave for three minutes, seasoned with the mysterious contents of an aluminum packet, is nostalgic. But after my introduction to a few juicy burgers and one french dish that I cannot begin to spell, it didn’t exactly feel glorious to eat something that came in a block and went in a microwave. I was afflicted by a growing love for certain foods and seasonings. I started to sprinkle salt and pepper on my eggs. I learned to turn eggs into omelets. I felt the inclination to combine some of my favorite foods and enhance my spaghetti with a basil garnish. And my Maruchan was no exception. As I longed for home, I began to explore ways in which I could make warm tap water special.
A Yatai is a cart, fitted with wheels, that moves in fleets up and down the streets of the cities of Japan, finding the strategic position to intercept the patrols of pedestrians and to capitalize on the chokepoints of the commuter, to serve a famished patron who doesn’t have the time to take a seat in a restaurant. Here, in America, food trucks pop up in parking lots. In Japan, the Yatai cook materializes on every corner of every street, gravitating towards the rumble of a pedestrian's stomach. The conveniently aggressive business model of Yatai cart cooks can be traced back to the days when they not only had to capitalize on foot traffic but also had to skillfully dodge patrols of ration-enforcing GIs of the American occupation. The Yatai embraced a food of growing popularity, with ingredients of growing availability. Take a wild guess.
Yatai cooks, in their efforts to turn a buck, became prey for Yakuza gangsters hunting for a less-than-legal front for cash. I was shocked to learn the extent to which mobile noodle vendors became prey to the black market. As historian Owen Griffiths puts it in NEED, GREED, AND PROTEST IN JAPAN'S BLACK. MARKET, 1938-1949, as “the Americans maintained Japan's wartime ban on outdoor food vending, flour was secretly diverted from commercial mills into the black markets, where nearly 90 percent of [Yatai] stalls were under the control of gangsters related to the yakuza… Thousands of ramen vendors were arrested during the occupation”
Despite the greasy tentacles of the black market, the ramen Yatai cart represented the powerful grasp of western ideals upon a wounded Japan: entrepreneurship. A Yatai was a gateway for a skilled cook to embed himself in the national economy while remaining free-lance, to serve the flow of goods and services independently. For better or worse, the Japanese were now being placed into the eternal race for economic freedom through fierce competition. This endeavor went pretty well for about five minutes, until someone had an idea… and started a new empire.
At home, I began to innovate with my ramen. I watched videos and expanded my family’s grocery list. I conducted my experiments on lonely afternoons, in between episodes of Better Call Saul, and when I really should’ve been studying for PreCalc. But to say I wasn’t productive would be an injustice. I found joy in my exploration of food. I tested different amounts of soy sauce and salt– always in combination with the familiar aluminum seasoning packet. I soon graduated away from the mystery powder, using actual pork broth, not microwaved but heated on the stove in a pot. I scavenged the occasional hard-boiled egg or strip of beef, grazed a green onion, and minced my own garlic. I grew more confident in my ability to make ramen tasty, and soon I devoted more time and energy to making it than actually eating it, although both were equally delightful.
Ramen was accessible when I was young. When I ate soup, it was seldom unpackaged. A package of Maruchan soy-flavored noodles took a few minutes to prepare and was a tasty, warm option. It was cheap and easy, so I ate it more often than any other food. It was there when I wanted it and I needed it. It was there. I ate the noodles and drank the “broth” and was full. But that’s not the only way I ate ramen. It’s just the only way I prepared it.
My relationship with my father is complicated. It is painful. Since I turned twelve, it has been nonexistent. Among my memories of him is the occasional Thursday when would pick me up, take me to his apartment, and play video games with me and my sister. For dinner, he would make strip steaks, microwave some frozen vegetables, and, somehow, serve ramen noodles as a side. They were drained of their broth and served on their own in a bowl. And I’ll admit, I loved them. I had them three times. The third time was the last time I ever saw my dad.
Ramen noodles with him and ramen noodles at home were drastically different things. The drained noodles just filled me with a feeling of bitter finality, while the bowls of soup offered an endless journey. But in spite of my experimentation in the present day, I have never tried to make them the way he would’ve. I am not sure why. I like the idea of trying something new and exciting when I mix real ingredients with cheap noodles. Yet something about draining the broth and putting them on a plate feels wrong. For me, it is not allowed.
By 1950 the wheat flour controls imposed by the US occupation were relaxed and, eventually, removed. By the time small-scale entrepreneurs of the ramen Yatai carts were no longer outlawed, ramen had become a staple amongst the citizens of Japan, although it hadn’t yet crossed any oceans. It settled into a niche of urban street-food, until 1958.
Momofuku Ando invented Instant Ramen, propelling an urban delicacy into the revolution of mass production and knockoffs. Despite the disingenuous imitation, the instant noodle cups spread like a wildfire, cheap as dirt and a novelty in convenience stores. It reached the US and took over by storm, and by 1980, it wasn’t just a cultural icon– it was a global phenomenon. Ramen was recognizable at this point, but not for its humble presentation hailing from a small Chinatown in a Japanese industrial district. It was now known by the styrofoam standard-issue palm bucket employed by the lunchtime employee at the blue-collar grind, passing up on a good lunch across the street to save a few bucks and suck on factory-produced gruel with a plastic fork.
Make no mistake, every customer knew instant ramen was a better supplement for a meal than an effective main course. Instant noodles were always associated with an urban worker robbed of time, money, and physical (or mental) health. But that didn’t stop anyone from buying it and pouring the boiling water into the cup, because you have to keep the gears grinding somehow.
I had begun to fantasize about Ramen. I had reached the reasonable limits of glorifying my flash-fried noodle block. I wanted the real thing. I salivated over the thoughts of bowls of authentic tonkotsu– pork broth with beef and onion and salt and egg and real, hand-cut noodles. I scoured the web for restaurants and noodle houses in the Houston area. I hunted for recipes and ingredients. It became an obsession. I broadened my horizons and honed my skills in other food groups as well. I perfected my omelets, explored baking, and started preparing intricate sandwiches and experimenting with ribs and roasts. I made a half-hearted attempt to get the grill in the backyard to function(, but alas, my motivation did not extend to building outdoor IKEA furniture). Of course, the prevalence of a certain virus limited my culinary exploration to the confines of my own home.
Despite all my best attempts, a bowl of tonkotsu remained distant. I settled for the crude imitation I had grown familiar with, along with the growing lineup of traditional American meals I was far from mastering. As my life grew increasingly complicated, cooking took a back seat, as did most of my other interests. For the rest of my sophomore year in high school, food returned to its status as a need to be fulfilled in between a daily grind. I moved once more, to another home in Houston, and in the shadow of that shift, I entered a very dark period of my life. It was a return to the days of miserable cup ramen at a lonely desk, deadlines, and projects littering my thoughts like a cluttered bedroom, spiraling downward into my pit of despair, until the Winter Break of my junior year.
Today, ramen is primarily consumed by the masses in cup form. People eat it when necessary, but few enjoy it. Considering its 200-year-long history, accepting this as ramen's final form is... dissatisfying. To have something be so universally enjoyed while in a gilded state doesn’t sit well. I grew to enjoy the ease of instant ramen. Its cheapness made cup noodles an ever-present food in my diet, but I had become far more interested in enjoying the food I ate, both in the process of eating it and preparing it. I appreciated the efforts of a cook, far more than the pump of a machine or the hum of a truck. I wanted to understand the journey that brought ramen to its current state, the road it had traveled. I wanted to understand what made it so comforting to the Chinese workers in Yokoma, and appealing to the commuters of Japan, all those years ago.
Ramen had first been a stranger in a foreign land. Unwelcome and out of place amongst the rice and soba of the era, it had sheltered itself among the poor and marginalized immigrants, searching for a reminder of home. Once a crude imitation of a long-forgotten delicacy, history would show mercy upon the noodles. Mobile sellers and individual cooks would descend upon the hungry Japanese populace, and ramen could seat itself firmly within the culture of a people in a dark time of domination, of recession. Finally, it had been stripped of its ability to provide for the individual. It became a mass-produced, styrofoam-encased, microwave-heated incarnation of not having the time to enjoy your food. Instant noodles could branch out across the modern world, but their roots were not forgotten.
I flew in a plane, by myself, as an adult last Christmas. It was not as scary as I thought it would be. I made my connection just fine and enjoyed a good book. I arrived in Hartford four days before Christmas, and spent the next three days with my older sister in New Haven, admiring the colossus that is the Yale campus, a collection of Cathedrals with a city growing into its shade like flowers beneath a tree. It shook me, to walk the cold streets in what felt like the dead of night, struggling to keep pace with my sister, anxiously watching for cars, and keeping my footing on sloping sidewalks. But this environment had a charm to it. Regardless, my sister knew me well and considered what I would care about most in New Haven. On the first day, she gave me a tour of the campus and cooked salmon for dinner. On the second day, she took me to eat at a wonderful Indian restaurant. We watched a movie afterward. We talked about her thesis, (which just so happened to pertain to the history of food from a much different context,) and her time at college, and I enjoyed her sense of humor and taste in food. On the final night of my stay, she took me to another restaurant. A noodle house.
Cup ramen, despite the impression I may have aggressively pushed upon you, is not just the food of the lowly modern desk jockey. It is also a core part of the college experience, as broke academics on their final legs often rely on fifty-cent meals. That was not the case for my sister, however, who has worked hard and often, and has a fantastic opportunity at Yale. Still, ramen had earned itself a place amongst college students, and that interest had generated a demand for the occasional bowl of authentic tonkotsu. Thus, a noodle house like Mecha Bar was packed on a Friday night. I found myself at the end of the line, there in Mecha, having progressed my entire life struggling to appreciate the food that I ate most often. I ordered a bowl of traditional tonkotsu, as the chef recommended, and soaked in the atmosphere. I was overcome with a strange sense of victory and excitement, but my view from the peak of whatever mountain I had climbed revealed something unexpected.
Across from me sat my sister, tears in her eyes. She had received what she believed to be a poor grade on a paper and was devastated. I was puzzled, having never placed much weight on the grades my teacher gave me at that point. So, as I waited for my soup, I pondered. I thought back upon the ramen that I mindlessly warmed on the days on which we had no other food to cook. I reflected on my aimless journey, drifting from pitiful attempt to pitiful attempt, in the hopes of restoring a mockery of a dish back into its original form. I would come to the conclusion that I had failed. It strikes me as fitting now, just as it did then. I lacked the passion and motivation that awarded my sister the position that brought the ramen to my table. I lacked the roots and stability that my peers enjoyed, never knowing where I would be living from one month to the next, never knowing if I would be able to afford to spice up my instant noodles. I had coasted my entire life passing as approachable, polite, and intelligent upon the surface. In truth, I was an apathetic cynic, effortlessly and ineffectively stumbling over the footsteps of my sister, of my classmates, and of my role models. I had grown out of place, in a world where I felt like I didn’t belong. In a time of crisis, I had been forcefully shoved into the role of a happy child, adapting to the environment I had been so temporarily planted in. I had rounded out my adolescence feeling cheap, sputtering across the finish line, only succeeding because I believed I would always just be “ok.” As my sister mourned her GPA, I attempted to enjoy the dish before me, the last remnant of a spiritual successor to a long-lost soup, venturing from the depths of necessity into the dark era of displacement and demand, and succumbing to the ease of the modern era, maintaining its quality only on the exception that someone was willing to seek it out and pay for it, but never being the norm.
There is something to be said about the journey I have made from Converse to Houston. There is more to be said about the journey a certain food has made from Yokohama to its styrofoam prison. There is much to be said about the cheapness of men like me compared to the outstanding quality of a tonkotsu soup, of the miserable visage of a humming microwave alongside my sister’s imposing dedication. But I don’t want to say those things. I want to instead wonder where ramen will go now, that it has occupied the dual role of a cultural delicacy and a common backbone for the rabble. I want to think of the ways in which that bowl of soup at Mecha was more akin to the bowls in Japan than the many I had prepared at home, despite the simplicity of the pork broth and wheat noodles in 1890. The similarities came from the love and care, not just in the individual bowl of soup. I had given my instant ramen oodles of attention. No, it’s the love and care put into the legacy of preservation, the tradition of survival, in spite of cultural oppression, in spite of an occupying foreign force, in spite of an exploitative underworld, in spite of a spinoff that took the world by storm for all the wrong reasons. Because even if the instant noodles were an imposter amongst heroes, without it I never would’ve found this tale of hope.
Just as ramen noodles have a rich history of transformations, I too have experienced a complex assortment of positions and identities in my life. I’ve changed dramatically. I expect both ramen noodles and myself to continue to change– not just to adapt to the environment, to survive, but to preserve what we once were. The humility of being in a strange, dark, poor land, and doing all you can to do your job as best you can, filling the stomachs and souls of the broken and beaten down. And beyond this story of hope for me, of the goal to transcend my boiling limitations, is a critique of the modern world. The way we people are flash-fried in a factory, pulled apart and slammed back together, crammed into a lonely, stuffy, cacophonous jail, spun under an oppressive bulb, ignored, used, and tossed away. Ramen has been robbed of its purpose, but maintains its duty as a cultural anchor across the world, and holds the potential to wrestle its original purpose back, at least for me.
I give ramen noodles a 4.4 out of 5.

How To Pick The Perfect Foundation (beautyaal.com)
Foundation is a popular beauty product that many people use to help even out their skin tone and texture. However, with the overwhelming amount of options available on the market, it can be difficult to determine which foundation is best for you. This article will provide an overview of how to pick the perfect foundation for your individual needs.
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The first step in finding the right foundation is determining your skin type. There are several different types of foundations designed specifically for oily, dry, combination, or sensitive skin. Once you have identified your own skin type, this will allow you to narrow down suitable products tailored to your specific needs.
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Another factor when choosing a foundation is color matching. Choosing the wrong shade could result in having an unnatural-looking complexion that appears ashy or off-color due to too much pigment being added or subtracted from one’s natural hue. If possible, test multiple shades on your jawline during daylight hours before making a purchase decision; doing so allows you to properly identify which shade works well with your overall look. Additionally, when selecting a foundation, it is important to make sure it is formulated to match your skin type.
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Finding The Right Shade
Finding the perfect foundation shade is a critical step in achieving flawless makeup. It can be particularly challenging because each individual’s skin tone and undertone are unique. A person’s natural complexion plays an important role, but it is also necessary to understand what undertones exist and how they play into the selection process.
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Generally speaking, there are three categories of undertones: warm, cool, and neutral. Warm tones have hints of yellow or golden hues while cool tones tend to lean toward pink or bluish tinges; neutral tends to lack both qualities and appears more even-toned without any obvious color shift. Additionally, many people will find that their skin has different undertones in different areas such as the forehead versus the jawline or cheeks. To make sure you choose correctly, consider testing out several shades at a beauty counter before committing to one choice. This way, you can see which particular hue works best
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with your own skin type and overall look. Once you’ve found a shade that looks good on your face, take note of its name so you can easily purchase it in the future if need be. With these tips in mind, selecting the right foundation shade should become easier over time as you experiment with different colors and formulas until you find your ideal match. As for choosing the right coverage level for your needs, that is another matter entirely.
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Choosing The Right Coverage
Picking the perfect foundation for one’s skin can be likened to a chessboard – each person has an individual strategy and playing pieces. The key is to choose the right coverage that suits their needs. When considering what type of coverage is best, it may help to take into account how much time they have in the morning or evening to apply makeup, as well as what level of natural imperfections on their skin they want to be concealed.
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For those who prefer a more dewy look, light-to-medium coverage foundations are ideal since they allow some degree of your natural complexion to show through while still providing enough color and coverage to even out any unwanted discoloration or fine lines, for people with dryer complexions, heavier formulas like creamy mousse foundations are better suited because these tend to provide more hydration than other types of formulations and offer fuller coverage over blemishes or acne marks.
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For those looking for something in between light-to-medium and full coverage, there are tinted moisturizers that offer sheer yet buildable coverage that will leave you feeling fresh-faced all day long without appearing too heavy or cakey. Understanding the different formulas and textures available allows individuals to make an informed decision when selecting the most suitable product for them.
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Understanding The Different Formulas
When it comes to choosing the perfect foundation, understanding the different formulas is an essential step. One of the most common distinctions between foundations is coverage levels, ranging from sheer tinted moisturizers to full-coverage concealers. However, while these two factors should be considered when selecting a foundation formula, there are other elements that must be taken into account in order to make an informed decision. To illustrate this point further, let us take a closer look at the various types of available formulas and what they can offer.
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Soothingly, oil-free or water-based options provide lightweight hydration for those with sensitive skin who tend to shy away from heavier products. On the other hand, creamier formulas such as mousse or stick foundations allow for greater coverage and more buildable layers for a fuller effect. Similarly, liquid formulations come in varying weights—from thin liquids that blend easily on your skin’s surface to thicker ones that offer superior control over where you apply the product and how much you use. Additionally, many brands now also feature powder foundations which provide light coverage but still create an even complexion without feeling heavy or cakey on the face.
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Given this plethora of choices, one may find themselves overwhelmed when trying to determine which type of foundation will work best for them; however, by taking into consideration their individual needs and preferences regarding coverage level and texture preference, they can narrow down their selection and pick out the right fit confidently. With enough research and experimentation with each kind of formula offered by makeup companies today, everyone can find a solution tailored specifically for them!
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Conclusion:
Finding the perfect foundation for one’s skin can be a daunting task. There are many factors to consider, such as shade and coverage preferences, that may make this process seem overwhelming. However, with knowledge of different formula types available on the market today and an understanding of how to pick out the right color for your individual skin tone, even the most daunting makeup tasks can become easier. The key is to take time in selecting a product that works best for you while keeping in mind the desired result—a beautiful finish blended seamlessly into your natural complexion.
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The act of finding the right foundation can symbolize taking control over our own beauty journey – choosing something that will enhance rather than mask our features. Taking care to get it just right reflects attention to detail and pride in one’s appearance; learning more about different products helps us explore what suits us best. In essence, picking the perfect foundation serves as an empowering statement: I am comfortable enough in my own skin to look good without hiding behind anything else.
How To Pick The Perfect Foundation (beautyaal.com)

Title sums it up pretty well. I llike powder foundation over liquid as my skin runs on the oily side. I found a good match in liquid with elf Flawless Finish, shade 130 (snow). But I haven't had any luck finding a powder foundation that isn't too orange. Anybody know of some powders in the right ballpark?

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Synopsis:
Juliette Contzen is a lazy, good-for-nothing princess. Overshadowed by her siblings, she's left with little to do but nap, read … and occasionally cut the falling raindrops with her sword. Spotted one day by an astonished adventurer, he insists on grading Juliette's swordsmanship, then promptly has a mental breakdown at the result.
Soon after, Juliette is given the news that her kingdom is on the brink of bankruptcy. At threat of being married off, the lazy princess vows to do whatever it takes to maintain her current lifestyle, and taking matters into her own hands, escapes in the middle of the night in order to restore her kingdom's finances.
Tags: Comedy, Adventure, Action, Fantasy, Copious Ohohohohos.
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Chapter 10: The Strongest, Ultimate Technique
I kept both hands clasped around my nose as I was led to the heart of the ruffians' illegal residence deep in the woodlands. There were more than I expected here. At least a dozen leering hooligans with the thought of crowns clearly reflected in their eyes, and all dressed in various shades of thuggery.
I didn't know what was a greater cause for my nausea. The concentrated disregard for bodily hygiene, or the fact that so many men had evaded paying for a litany of fines, licences and taxes.
That skewered boar roasting above a firepit? Hunting permit. Those dusty bottles of liquor sold over a makeshift wooden bar? Trading permit. That man shooting apples with his bow to the sound of whooping cheers and clinking coins? … Probably didn't need a gambling permit.
But I'd fine him for being a clear public safety hazard, none the less!
Left, right and centre I could see proof that my kingdom was being fleeced for each and every copper crown these shameless forest squatters had on hand. That they made their home in these private woodlands was one thing. But to then play host to a myriad of licence evasion and tax fraud was quite another.
Each crown was one less for my personal library budget. As a princess … no, as an upstanding citizen of this kingdom, I would not stand for it!
As indignation rose within me, I was brought before the sole functioning tent in this makeshift camp. Only half of it was missing. The other half, I presumed from the general wreckage around me, was being shared amongst all the other residents.
Beneath the tent's open canopy, a lone man with a black scar chiselled across his face turned in his chair. Pouches of coin lay piled atop one another on a desk. Proof of ill-gotten gains.
He glanced at me, then at the nearest ruffian who was standing far too close to me.
“Boss, we found 'er by the stream, heading down southwards. She's a real treasure, this one. All alone and the like, but with a gob as big as the moon.”
The man referred to as 'Boss' didn't stand up. A disgraceful lack of etiquette before a guest, let alone royalty. But I was here as neither.
I was here as the law.
“Salutations. I've come to rectify the catalogue of crimes I see occurring within this woodland area. Are you the brigand who bears overall responsibility for this illegal occupation of Crown property, and all the wrongful activities within it?”
The scarred man considered me with an unmoving expression. His eyes glanced down at Starlight Grace by my waist.
“A big gob. So I see. And I also see she's still got her sword. Any reason you deadbeats have brought an armed person to our camp?”
One of those who led me here shrugged.
“Well, Boss, she promised to be cooperative if we didn't lay a filthy finger on 'er.”
“That so?” The scarred man nodded. “Good. Wouldn't want Patches to happen again, would we?”
“Yeah! That's what I thought, Boss! After the last time, we should—ieeeeeeek!!”
Beside me, the ruffian's voice trailed into a pathetic yelp as a flash of iron swept by his face. A thin streak of red appeared on his cheek moments after the sound of a knife had struck a keg in the background. Someone with a tankard proceeded to make use of the ensuing drops of liquid.
The scarred man, in the meantime, rose from his chair. In his hand was gripped another knife. Its aim could have been anywhere.
“Morons! Next time you find someone with a weapon, you disarm them before you bring them to me! If they don't gut you for trying, then I will!”
“Y-Yes, Boss!!”
A chorus of kowtowing ringed throughout the camp. I wasn't sure who it was coming from, as everyone who had escorted me to this tent had now scampered with the haste of kitchen mice hearing the prowling of a cat.
I watched the scarred man attentively. Being able to induce their subjects to flight with such ease was an admirable quality. It didn't excuse the state of the noble attire he wore—clearly stolen or cheaply bought. But it was worth a single point of admiration among a sea of a thousand demerits.
Having scattered his lackeys, he turned his attention to me once more. The knife vanished from his hand as swiftly as it'd appeared.
“... The people I work with, huh. They'd have done the same thing if you were the bloody Snow Dancer. Luckily for me, you're a simple-minded girl who played too far in the forest. Poor choice. There are bad sorts about.”
The scarred man chuckled, settling back down in his chair. He gestured towards the men gambling, drinking or scampering about in his camp.
“Fortunately for you, I will ensure your safety until such time that your family choose to collect you ... with a payment for my time, my provisions and my personal guarantees, of course. I take it from that fine sword by your side—which I'll insist on as collateral, I should add—that you have a very fine family I can contact. I'm sure a suitable arrangement can be made for your safe release.”
I could scarcely believe the words I was hearing.
Ensuring my safety? The implications behind those words could not be clearer even if they'd been spelt with black fire.
Such shameless criminal enterprising! So their suite of racketeering didn't merely extend to illegal residency, tax evasion, fraud and a host of other contemptuous crimes, but also kidnapping and ransoming! These were not merely unwashed hooligans. They were the worst of criminals in every sense of the word.
My resolve hardened. As did my scowl.
“Thank you. But I have no need for your guarantees of safety. What I do need is your illicit earnings as reimbursement for your crimes. You may begin by immediately yielding every illegally obtained crown in your possession.”
The scarred man stared at me with stunned silence, before eventually letting out a small smile. If he had any lackeys present as well, I was certain they'd take that as the cue to guffaw.
“Now, I'm afraid that with an attitude like that, these negotiations will be very difficult.”
For him, perhaps.
After all, the only negotiations that will transpire will be between him and his gaoler. If he pleaded his contrition, then perhaps I'd shave a few bars of soap from his sentence. As a kind and merciful princess, I'd be willing to permit a small degree of personal discretion in the matter.
“The law is clear,” I said, nodding towards the pouches behind him. “Your misadventures are at an end.”
The scarred man was plainly bemused. Rather than presenting his earnings to be confiscated, he simply took a gold crown from the table, then casually flicked it between his hands.
“What a model citizen. You're right, the law is clear. I'll make sure to think over my many crimes while we wait for your gob to quieten down. If you're smart, you'll do that instead of asking for Fat Roach or Ugly Twigs to quiet you down for you.”
He flicked his gold crown back onto the table, then lazily gestured towards me. His bemused expression had already been replaced by a calculating gaze as he assessed the worth of my person, and especially my sword.
Almost at once, I could hear a pair of footsteps trudging behind me. Tall, stocky shadows reached out either side of me.
I chose not to move a muscle. But it wasn't out of fear.
It was an oft conversation among the knights training in the courtyard that three opponents was the most even the most skilled fighter could fend off simultaneously, and that if they were surrounded, the only hope was to break through.
I had three without even counting the rest of the outlaws in the camp.
However, what our martially inclined knights didn't know was that there was another way to defeat your enemies, even when surrounded and without allies.
Why, to accomplish such a feat wasn't so much impossible as it was the goal in the dangerous world that I was brought up in. There was no greater mark of achievement than defeating your foes with your back against the wall.
Such was the demands of the oldest dance. That of the courtly realm, where enemies were friends, gallant sons wielded daggers in the darkness and timid daughters brewed whispers of poison. Compared to the foes I was trained to fight, a man boasting a scar and a band of goons was as frightening to me as a pebble in the beach.
That's why—
I smiled.
“My … how disappointing.”
“Hmm?”
The scarred man turned back again, just as he'd waved me off to be bound in whatever cage they had prepared. He looked at my smile and motioned to the men behind me to pause.
“What's disappointing?” he said, frowning.
I didn't immediately answer, instead looking down at this two-bit villain with a smile of overwhelming, absolute victory. The type that could only be used in one situation and one situation alone—when speaking as the indisputable victor atop a mountain made from the felled wishes of their enemies.
It was more than a declaration of victory. Rather, it was as if my victory was already stamped in the history books.
Predictably, utilising such a smile caused the man's frown to turn into puzzlement.
I clenched my fist, victory in hand.
Ohhohoho! Here it was!
Behold, the most powerful weapon in a princess's arsenal! Keener than any warrior's blade! Grander than any mage's spell!
My strongest, ultimate technique, relentlessly honed through years of tea parties, soirées and social gatherings, an infallible method to parry every single question the daughters of nobility put to me, without ever needing to provide a straightforward answer—
Ominously pretending I knew something others didn't!
“... My, how very tragic. For you to believe that you can simply turn your back to me. Has your time frolicking in these woodlands dulled all sense of precariousness?”
“What?”
“By evading the eyes of the kingdom, especially its watchful and beautiful princesses, I'd hoped that you would display a resourcefulness and intelligence beyond your peers. Alas, you are merely common outlaws preying on the foolish and the naive. My hopes of encountering a foe worthy of entertaining my time has passed. You do not even sense the mortal peril you find yourself in, do you?”
The scarred man blinked without comprehension.
I upped the maliciousness of my smile, all the while narrowing my eyes. It was an expression angled to perfection. A professionally curated look of condescension.
“Oh? What's this? Did you truly believe a lost girl in the woods would demand to be led here? Your string of opportunistic crimes have made you enemies in places both low and high. I must thank your subordinates. Without them being so eager to reveal the location of your base, I may never have found it. They have my gratitude.”
Silence met my proclamation.
Then, the scarred man jumped up from his seat.
“What is this?!” he shouted, his spittle flying towards every lowlife in the camp simultaneously. “She demanded to come here?! And you idiots led her?!”
A fearful murmur met this man's rage. I saw the shadows behind me shrink and fade.
I gave a small laugh.
Indeed, what need did I have of my sword, when I had my daring wits?
The critical art of negotiation was to exploit weakness as strength, and strength as weakness! To make the other party believe that the hidden hand behind my back was stronger than the one they held before me! Why, walking alone into the midst of so many adversaries clearly defied conventional wisdom ... unless I had overwhelming confidence of my victory!
Why else would I make demands from a position of clear disadvantage?
In short ... lie through my teeth!
“Frankly, I'm upset it took your goons so long to find me. Your infamy exceeds your actual talents. I'd hoped that you would at least show expediency in locating someone as obvious as I.”
The scarred man's brows almost joined as one, such was the severity of his frown. For a moment, his eyes glanced at Starlight Grace by my side. He no longer looked at it like a toy paraded by a child.
“Who are you? … Who sent you?”
The man's words caught for a moment, betraying a fear that his newly acquired monobrow failed to hide.
“My name is unimportant ... only that I caution you not to take me for the simple daughter of some mere baron. Know that I suffer your presence by my continued mercy. I have come to collect on your poor lack of judgement. My message is simple. Contrition is a long and hard road. You may begin by forfeiting your crowns … unless you wish to forfeit something else.”
I internally nodded. A strong inference to deathly peril without outright stating it. A somewhat overtired notion that was no longer fashionable. But still usable in modest amounts.
The scarred man looked like he was considering which level of vitriol to use to reject my crude threat. And yet after a moment, he suddenly widened his eyes.
“You … no … were you sent by … her?”
Creaaaaak.
The sound of the door to success opening!
That note of uncertainty! That look of spying the shadow of a familiar ghost! That allusion to a person of concern!
The opening I could seize! Clearly, an outlaw prolific enough to have his own dedicated group of lackeys would have made enemies. Whether it was banditry or politics, it was impossible to climb the ladder of authority without treading on the knuckles of those below you … or swiping at the heels of those above.
Yes, there was much a person in any position of power could fear.
In which case, what I now needed to do was …
“Heh.”
Smile menacingly!
Acknowledge nothing! Deny nothing! Courtroom politics at its finest! Allow your foes to come to their own conclusions, which would always inevitably slide towards the worst case scenario!
“No … w-wait … she can't have … not here ...”
The man took a step back, colliding with his chair. I continued to smile wordlessly.
“She shouldn't … have found me … not here … no, if it's her … oh gods, no ...”
He took another step back, pushing his chair over as he sought safety in the back of his little tent.
“Wait! I need time … tell her … tell her I need time! I can still … I can still get what she needs! I wasn't … I wasn't running away! … You ... You have to tell her! Please, you have to tell her this is all part of my plan! It is, I swear … !”
Now! The coup de grâce!
The ultimate finishing move! The natural sequel to the royal bluff!
“... Ohhohoho ...”
Here it was!
The barely contained laughter as I took shameless mirth in another's demise! Hand to my cheek, shoulders raised as I enjoyed a spectacle more delicious than a royal feast! Here was an expression trained over years of gruelling practice to instil hopelessness in all that perceived it!
“N-No ...”
The scarred man's legs gave way as he dropped to his knees beside his overturned chair. A look of ashen-white shock clouded his face as he stared inconsolably towards the ground.
Still laughing, I brushed past the fallen figure and went to the table.
Scooping up all the pouches of coin in my arms, I turned to the rest of the camp and looked down at the expressions filled with disbelief, confusion, and awe.
I rued that justice would have to be dispensed another day. I had neither the time nor the number of soap bars necessary to wipe away such a foul odour. But I could at least begin by stripping them of their capacity to cause mischief.
“I require your coin, your valuables, and your timely eviction,” I said, standing beside the slightly comatose leader of the camp. “You may begin with an orderly line.”
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