2days journal (7/16/23)

If I had a nickel for every time a dude w boundary issues begged me like, to an embarrassing degree, to remove my mask (and like, had even literally seen my face already so ?) I would have 2 nickels, which isn’t a lot but it’s extremely weird it happened twice (2 days in a row!) (it felt like living in a busted simulation)

.:Background check:. Who gave birth to you? My mother... Who is your biological father? A man. Do you live with both of your biological parents? Yes I do. Do you like your parents? Yes, I love my parents.  Do you get along with your parents? I do. Does you your parents like you? I believe so. What is parents 'race'? My mom is Mexican and Filipino and my dad is Caucasian. Where were you born? A city in California. What date were you born? July 28th. Do you have any siblings? I have two brothers. You are child number: I’m the middle kid. Do you have a large family? I have a large extended family.

What is your family like? They’re awesome. I’m very blessed.

:.About you.:

What is your name? Stephanie.

Do you have a nickname? If so what is it? and why? Just Steph and Sis. 

How old are you now? I’m 32.

What 'race' are you? I’m Caucasian, Mexican, Filipino. I’d really like to do one of those tests to see exactly what I am. 

How do you look like to you? I have short, dark brown hair, brown eyes, freckles, thin, and short.

What color are your eyes? Brown.

What color is your natural hair? Dark brown.

Do you dye your hair? Not currently, but yes.

Do you have a 'style'? If so what is it? Very casual and comfy, just leggings, lounge shorts, t-shirt dresses, and oversized tees.

Are you single or taken? I’m very single.

What is your sexual orientation? Straight.

Do you have any tatoos? Nope.

Do you have any piercing? Just my earlobes.

Describe your pesonality. Shy, awkward, introverted, moody, irritable, impatient, emotional... I don’t like the person I’ve become over the past few years. I’ve become more serious and moody. I don’t enjoy things like I used to. I don’t laugh like I used to. I have zero friends cause I ghosted everyone and don’t want any. I’m not doing anything at all with my life. I don’t feel like I’m fun or enjoyable to be around at all.

How tall are you? Like 5′4.

Whats your weight? I’m underweight.

What's the most common misconception about you? People used to think I was strong, brave, and intelligent but they probably don’t anymore and they’d be right.

.:What is your favorite:.

Food? Wingstop’s boneless garlic parm and lemon pepper wings, ramen, turkey or bologna sandwiches, chicken tenders, chips and dip.

Song? I have many.

Mood? My favorite mood? Uh, a good one. I don’t experience those too often...

Animal? Dogs and giraffes.

Person? My loved ones.

Color? Pastels, rose gold, sea foam green, coral, and yellow.

Movie? I have many.

TV Show? I have many.

Thing to do? Read, listen to ASMR, do surveys, color, sleep.

:.What are your future goals in life?.:

What do you want to be when you 'grow up'? I’m 32 and still have no idea.

Do you want to get married? Do you have someone in mind? No.

What age do you plan to be married? --

Do you have kids? How many? What are their names? No.

Do you want (more) kids? How many?

I don’t have any nor do I want any.

Do you know what would you name if it was a girl? If so what? --

Do you know what would you name if it was a boy? If so what? --

Who would be your dream mate? An understanding, patient, caring, helpful, trustworthy, funny, easy to talk to and be myself around, and have similar interests with type of guy.

What is your dream house like? Ideally, it’d be a beach house.

What is your dream car? I don’t have one.

Any goals not mentioned above? --

Which goal of yours keeps you alive? I don’t really have any goals right now... :/

Do you honestly think you'll accomplish your goals? I don’t feel like I’ll evr accomplish much.

.:Yes, no, sometimes or maybe?:.

Are you on a diet? No.

Are you happy? No.

Are you at home? Yes.

Are you nice? Genuinely I think so, but I’m just so moody and irritable all the time and can be snippy, short, and impatient because of it. I’m not like overly nice.

Are you understanding? Yes. Are you atractive? No. Are you athletic? No. Are you caring? Yes. Are you annoying? Yes. Are you spoiled? Kind of. Are you picky? Yes. Are you smart? No. Are you dumb? Yes. Are you trust worthy? Yes. Are you crazy? I feel that way sometimes. Are you weird? Yes. Are you romantic? No. Are you sweet? Ehh, I wouldn’t probably use that word to describe me. Are you funny? I have my moments once in awhile. Are you popular? No. Are you tall? No. Are you skinny? Yes. Are you fat? No. Are you muscular? No. Are you amazing? No. Are you perfect? No. No one is, but I’m not even close. Are you talktive? No. Are you shy? Yes. Are you responsable? I should be more responsible with some things. Are you mean? No, I don’t think I’m mean. Like I said, I can just be moody, irritable, and short sometimes and don’t always make the best company. Have you ever had a pet rock? No. Have you ever wet my bed over the age of 12? No. Have you ever written a Song? I’ve attempted to before when I was like 16. They weren’t good. Have you ever been in love? Yes. Have you ever danced in Public? Just some head nodding and moving my arms and shoulders a bit. Have you ever given a fake smile? Many times. Have you ever made out in a theater? No. Have you ever cut yourself? On purpose? Yes. Have you ever cheated on someone? No. Have you ever danced in the rain? Yes. Have you ever slept with sobody you definelty shouldn't have? Who? No. Have you ever made yourself throw up? Or tried? Only when I’ve felt sick. Have you ever been rejected? Yes. Have you ever gotten a broken heart? Yes. Have you ever sent a hate e-mail? No. Have you ever done illeagal drugs? Back when I smoked weed it wasn’t legal here yet I don’t think. Have you ever won a race? Yes. Have you ever failed a grade? No. Have you ever made a website? Yes. Have you ever blew something up? No. Have you ever swam in the ocean? No. Have you ever swam naked? No. Have you ever broken a law? Yes. Have you ever spread a rumor? No. Have you ever written a short story? Yes. I loved doing that when I was 12 and 13. I wish I still had them. Have you ever licked a 12 volt battery? No. Have you ever been on TV? Yes, I was on the local news after my accident and for a follow-up. Have you ever had an imaginary friend? No. Have you ever stayed out all night? No. Have you ever hurt someone physicly? No. Have you ever hurt someone emocionally? Yes. :/ Have you ever used a fake id? No. Have you ever slept outside? I mean, I’ve napped while lying out on the beach. Have you ever tried to make a friend jealous? Yes. Have you ever accidently set something on fire? did you get in trouble? Yeah, when cooking something in the oven. No, I didn’t get in trouble as it was just an accident. Have you ever rode a dirt bike? No. Have you ever rode a 4 wheeler? No. Have you ever stayed out all night? No. Have you ever stolen something? When I was a kid I thought the candy in the big bins at the grocery store were free. :X

Have you ever made your parents cry? Never intentionally or on purpose.

Have you ever made out in a movie theater? No.

Have you ever been in love? Yes.

Have you ever had a boy/girlfriend Yes.

Have you ever laughed so hard you cried? Yes.

Have you ever cried your self to sleep? Many times.

Have you had your heart broken? Yes.

Have you won a trophy? No.

Can you whistle? Nope.

Can you play an instrument? No.

Can you touch your nose with your tounge? No.

Can you lick your elbow? No.

Can you speak another languge? Not fluently.

Do you have any health issues? Yes.

Do you shower everyday? No.

Do you dream? Yes.

Do you day-dream? Yes.

Do you wish upon stars? I’ve never seen one.

Do you pray? Honestly? Yes.

Do you wish you could have someone you can't? No.

Do you smoke? No.

Do you drink? No.

Do you have a celphone? Yes.

Do you have your OWN computer? I do.

Do you have an ipod? Yeah. It’s been stored away, unused, since like 2012, though.

Do you have a pet? Yep, I have a doggo.

Do you want a pet? I’m happy with my doggo.

Do you see ghosts? No.

Do you like were you live? No.

Do you like to be alone? Sometimes. I need to have my alone time.

Do you miss anyone? I’ll always miss my loved ones who have passed away.

Do you think your taller than most people your age? No, I’m short.

Do you like to go out at night? No.

Do you eat alot of candy? No. I rarely have candy.

Do you love chocolate? I like it.

Do you like some body on myspace? --

Do you have a myspace? It might still exist out there unless it’s been deleted from not being used in over a decade.

Do you have any talents? Nope.

Do you like to travel? Yes.  

Do you get lectured alot? Yes, about some of the health stuff I’m dealing with.

Do you hate it when people copy you? No one copies me. .:Right now:. Are you alone? In my room, yes. Are hungry? A little. I’ll be doing a lot of eating later on, though. How are you feeling? Tired and a little hungry. How's life in general? Not great. Is there any noise around you? Just the ASMR video I’m listening to. What are you thinking about right now? The appetizers we have for later on, haha. My brother and I went out and bought a ton of stuff for a charcuterie board and whatnot. What are you wearing? Leggings and a long sleeved shirt. What is the weather like? It’s currently 37 degrees. What is your mood? Tired. What date is it? It’s November 25, 2021 aka Thanksgiving. What time is it? It’s 5:57AM. What season is it right now? Fall. Where are you? I’m in my room, in bed. Are you having a good day? It hasn’t really started, yet. :.School.: Do you like school? Why? I’m done with school now, but I’d say I liked it for the most part. There were aspects I liked. What time does school start? -- What's the name of your school? -- What classes do you take? -- What grade you are in? -- Who's your favorite teacher? -- Who's your least favorite teacher? -- What's your favorite subject? English was always my favorite. What time does school end? -- When will/did you graduate from High School? I graduated high school back in 2008.

.:Religion:. What religion you belong to? I am a Christian. What's the name of your church? I’m not giving that out. When do you go to church? Sundays. Do you believe in God/Jesus? Yes. Are you very religious? I believe in God if that’s what you mean. Do you want to be more religious? How can I be “more”? Would you... Ever have an abortion? I’ll never get pregnant. Go out with somebody of the same sex? No. Ever give me your number? If so what is it? Uh, no. Ever tell me your whole name? If so what is it? Stephanie is all ya need to know. Ever tell me exactly where you live? If so where is it? All I’ll tell ya is that I live in California.  Tell me your e-mail? Then tell me. No. Go out with your ex's friend? No. Kiss your boy/girlfriend with your parents watching? A quick kiss, probably. I wouldn’t makeout in front of them. Tease a monkey at the zoo? No. Shoplift? No. Write homosexual in sharpie on the mona lisa? No... Cry in public? I wouldn’t want to, but it could happen. Cuss in front of family? No.  Run naked in a famous city? Uh, no. Or anywhere. Go to the a forest alone? No. Do surgery on best friend? Wtf. No??? I’m not a doctor or surgeon or know anything about that. Go to visit a random person at any prison? No. Vandalize your school? No.  Talk behind friends back w/out them ever knowing? Unfortunately, I can’t say I’ve never done that. It’s not something I set out to do or have a habit of doing.  Cheat on a test? No. Run from the police? No. Kill yourself for money? No. :.Past Relatioships.: How many relatioships have you had? Two. Is that too many or not enough? It’s whatever. What are their names? Derek and Joseph. How many were flings? Neither. How many were serious? I considered what Joseph and I had to be more serious even though it was complicated and messy. Which one was the shortest? The one with Derek. Which one was the longest? Well, the one with Joseph. Regret any relatioship? Who? No. Did you kiss in any previous relationship? In both of them. Did you have sex in any previous relationship? No. If not, what was the closet you got to sex? -- Did you meet any of the parents? Yes to both. If so, did they like you? Yes. Were you in love with any of them? With Joseph. Why did it end? With Joseph, he used and played me and didn’t actually want to commit. He didn’t feel the same way I did. With Derek, I felt we were better as friends and didn’t feel like it was working out. Who broke up with who? I broke up with Derek, Joseph broke up with me. Were/are you hurt? I was. Did anyone cheat? No. Ever with the same sex? No. Have you had a long distance relationship? No. Would you get back with them to save the world? How would that save the world? .:Relationship:. Are you taken? Nope. By a girl or a boy? -- What is his/her name? -- How old is him/her? -- What is the age difference? -- Does he/she have a stable family? -- Is he/she atractive? -- Was it love at first sight or what? -- How long did you two know each other before you guys started dating? -- Who asked who out? -- How exactly did you or him/her asked him/her or you out? -- What was the date? -- Do you remember the time you guys became official? -- When was the first kiss? Was it unexpected? -- How was the first kiss? -- Have you two held hands? -- Do you like hugging it? “It”?  Do you say 'I love you' to each other? -- Do you think you mean it? -- Do you think him/her means it? -- Are you guys always calling and texting each other? -- Who calls more? -- What was the first thing him/her ever said to you? -- Did either one of you broke up with someone to be with each other? Who? -- How long has it been? -- How much more longer do you want it to last? -- Are you sure it isn't just summer love? -- How do you know him/her is the one? -- Does it make you happy? What’s with calling them “it”? How do you feel when you guys are appart? -- Have you ever slaped him/her? Did you think it was funny? -- Do you get those butteflies in your stomach when you are around him/her? -- Have you met his/her family? -- How did you meet them? -- Are they nice to you? -- Do you like them? -- Are they what you expected them to be? -- Do they like you? -- Did it help you find more stuff about it that you didn't know before? -- Do they treat you right? -- Do they judge you? -- Do you wish they were different? -- Do they approve of you guys relationship? -- Have both of your families met? -- Have you wrote him/her a letter? -- Have you made him/her jealous on purpose? -- Have you said something mean to him/her? -- Have you done/said something to him/her that you now regret? What? -- Have you cheated? -- Have you thoght of breaking up with it? -- Have you guys been broken up before? If so for how long? -- Have you cried because you miss him/her? -- How far have you guys gone? -- Do you miss him/her right now? -- Do you care about him/her? -- Do you worry about him/her? -- Do you honestly with all your heart trully love him/her? -- Do you cry for him/her? -- Do you have anything that belongs to him/her? -- Do you smell it? -- Would you die for him/her? -- Whould he/she die for you? -- What does he/she means to you? -- Is he/she just another boy/girlfriend? --

.:Randoms:. If you could change one thing about your life it would be... I’d have better health. Draw a smiley =D Can’t really draw on here and I’m not uploading any photos. If you had one hour left to live. What do you do? I would be freaking out. Your final breath is coming. What do you say in your final breath? I’d tell my family I loved them. Do you think if you died anyone would miss you? My family would. What would you want your friends to remember about you? I don’t have any friends. Who do you hate? -- What was the last word you said? ”I don’t understand why that happens.” Are you afraid of giving your personal information online? (Should be.) I am very careful about that. What is one of your pet peeve. Eating sounds. Find your perfect place. Describe it. The beach. What is the relationship like with your friends? -- Look into your own eyes for a second. What do you see? No thanks. What's your biggest wish? For my health to improve. What's the most important lesson you've learned in your life? Don’t ignore and neglect health related things.   What do you hope for? To improve my health and my life. What's the best advice you can give the generation of tomorrow? I don’t know. I’m not the one to go to for advice. What do you fear most?Why? Losing my loved ones, never getting better or getting worse, never doing anything with my life and just wasting away. Remind yourself to ________. Take care of yourself. Any dirty little secrets from the past you've share with no one? -- Share a secret. -- What angers you most? Blah. What saddens you most? Bleh. What gladdens you most? Meh. Life is tricky. What's the biggest obstacle you've encountered? The one that made me a paraplegic and the problems that followed.   Have you ever experienced any major tragedy? What was it? Losing loved ones and the one that made me a paraplegic. What's one of the biggest issues you're going through currently? Health related issues. In one word who are you? Me. Which cell phone provider do you have? Verizon. How many states have you been to? Three. How do you feel about freckles? I like mine. Are you married? No. Whats the weirdest thing you've done on an elevator? Nothing. Worst thing a teacher did to you? Put me on the spot and embarrassed me. How many contacts are on your phone? *shrug* What's your weight in grams? *shrug* What are you goin to do for summer? I’m so not thinking about summer right now. Do people think your crazy? Probably. What is your myspace URL? -- Who's your best friend? My mom. What's your ring size? Lke a 7 or 8. What is the most over used phrase? *shrug* What is the most missed memory? My childhood. Have you lost something or someone important to you? Who or what? Yes, my maternal grandparents and my dog, Brandie. If you could trade places with one person, who would it be and why? Meh. I just want to be a better and improved version of myself. What is the one restaurant you eat at way too much? Wingstop. What do you think about most? My current, ongoing situation. What are you looking forward to? Christmastime. Ever wished you were dead? Why? Because I was just tired and done and didn’t want to keep dealing with the shit I was dealing with. Money or love is more imporatant? Why? Unfortunately, money is important, but we need love as well. What is your youngest cousins name? I’m not sure which of my cousins is the youngest, I have a lot of cousins and don’t feel like thinking about their ages. What is your third favorite color? I don’t rank them. What is the closest thing to you that is purple? A magnet. What does your desktop background look like? It’s a photo of Alexander Skarsgard. What is the last red drink you drank? Well, I added this peppermint whipped cream to my coffee that is red and it made my coffee red. What college did/do/want to go to? I went to a local one. If you were opposite gender what was your name gonna be? My mom said Jesse. How many friends on myspace/facebook do you have? Around 150 or so. What is the best movie you've seen in the last month? Eternals. What is the 1st word of the last song you listened to? I don’t remember what the last song I listened to was. Do say soda, softdrink, or pop? I say soda. What color is your wallet? It’s a cream color.  Are your floors mostly wood or carpet? They’re tile and carpet. Do you have your license? do you speed? I don’t have my license.  Have you ever done yoga? what's your favorite pose? No. How old was your mom when she had you? She was in her early 20s. What is a time or day you're looking forward to? Christmastime. Have you ever shaken from anxiety/nerves? Oh yes. Can you see a calander from where you're sitting? Yes. What color is the dry towel for dishes? We don’t have one. What's your crushes/bfs middle name? I don’t have a crush or boyfriend. What is the first song on your favorite mixed cd? I don’t have any mixed CDs anymore. Or any CDs, actually. Have you already gotten a kiss this year '09? I didn’t kiss anyone in 2009. Why do you stay up so late? Insomnia, mostly. I also like that time of day. Have you ever snuck someone in to your house? No.

:.Tell me something before you go.: Like a quote or something. Bye. .:The survey:. What is it fun? Ehhh. Do you think it was creative? Some of it. How long did it take to finish? I didn’t do it all in one shot, I stopped and came back a few times. Were you honest about everything you said? Yeah. Was it too long for you? Nah. Do you think someone would read it ALL? Probably not. Do you think someone would copy and do the survey? Who? Someone might. What rating you'd give this survey? 1-10 (10 being the best) A 5. Where are you going to post it? Here. Do you think I am a low-life that has nothing better to do? No. If you do think that way what does it make you by completing the survey? -- Aren't you going to thank me for helping you kill time? Thanks.

How hard could it be? Part 12

Start from the beginning

Part 11

Bitty barricaded himself in the guest room — his room for the foreseeable future — after supper.

He was showered and dressed in a clean T-shirt and shorts, he was well-fed with MooMaw’s chicken and dumplings, and he was as comfortable as he was going to get.

He had managed some work on his thesis before dinner, taking the time to be immensely grateful to both Nursey and Dex. His paragraphs seemed to flow together better now, and he knew some punctuation and word choices had changed, but he couldn’t identify anything he didn’t write.

Tomorrow he could submit, he thought, although he would really have preferred to be able to include samples from some of the best recipes he found. Maybe some of the worst, too: soybean loaf and “Burning Bush” canapés made with cream cheese and shredded dried beef came to mind. 

His paper mentioned a recipe for something called German cookies made with baking ammonia, which was used as a leavening agent before baking powder became widely available, and he kind of wished he could try it, but he had no idea where to find such a thing these days,

There were “recipes” that were just combinations of products: “Ice cream dessert,” from Iowa, called for layering vanilla wafers in a baking dish, covering them with a thick layer of softened  ice cream, spreading chocolate sauce over that, and then topping it all with another layer of vanilla wafers. The dish was to be frozen and cut like a sheet cake.

But there were also tasty recipes for dozens of variations of spinach dip, delicate Mexican wedding cookies, variations of fudge made with marshmallow fluff and with sweetened condensed milk.

Yes, Bitty had tried making many of these recipes, maybe too many, even the Coca-Cola cake and the Ritz cracker faux apple pie. But some of them might have improved his chance of approval from the committee.

“You don’t need it,” Nursey told him after sending the edited file back. “It’s a decent paper. It meets the requirements for sources and length, and you back up your arguments. You’re golden, I promise.”

Dex was more pragmatic in his encouragement. “They’re not going to fail a senior during the pandemic unless you totally blew off the requirements. Especially not you, the first out NCAA men’s hockey captain.”

Right. Hockey.

He opened the vlog’s email and looked at Jack’s email again, then at the response he’d started.

Hi, Jack, he’d typed after he came in from the yard.

Of course you’re not being a bother. I’m happy to help answer any questions you have.

He paused before adding about baking.

Even though Jack hadn’t really asked about baking in his last email. He’d kind of asked permission to keep writing to Bitty, if that wasn’t too old-fashioned of a concept. Bitty was happy to encourage him.

You really kind of jumped in at the deep end with pies. Most home bakers start with cookies and muffins and things that are a little more forgiving. It’s not that I’m discouraging you from making pies — not at all! — but I’d also be happy to help with other baking projects if you want to take a rest and do something easier.

But what I said before is still true. The more you make pie, the easier it will get. You just get a feel for what the texture of the dough should be like when it’s ready to chill and roll out, and what the proper pressure is when rolling, and when it’s thin enough to use.

I should stop now, in case this sounds too complicated. 

Of course, you can also experiment with fillings and flavorings, whether that’s modifying it by using different varieties of apples or different spices, or going wild and making a cherry pie. Or even a lemon meringue!

To me, that’s the beauty of pie. At its foundation, it’s the same base, but you can build so many different things off of it. You can even do a savory pie with meat and vegetables, although my specialty is sweet dessert pie.

That was where Bitty stopped earlier, unsure of how to proceed. He half hoped his correspondent was Jack Zimmermann, Stanley Cup-winning center for the Providence Falconers and subject of at least a half-dozen posters Bitty had seen in various rooms of the Haus. That would be so … the only word for it was cool, to have a professional athlete and celebrity asking for baking advice. But he also wanted this Jack Zimmermann to turn out to be a regular guy, someone who just wanted to bake to impress his girlfriend or boyfriend, someone Bitty might actually end up being friends with. 

Well. Best to rip the Band-Aid off and find out what he was dealing with.

Sorry — I kind of go on about pie, I know.

I am curious about your interest in hockey. If you’re a fan, I’m sure you know there’s a Jack Zimmermann who plays for the Falconers. He’s one of my old teammate’s favorite player! I know it’s a common name, though, so I don’t really expect you’re him. So if you’re not, how are you involved in hockey? I didn’t play at all until I was in high school, but now I love it. I’m really going to miss playing.

But back to baking. You didn’t tell me the most important thing about your pie: How did it taste?

Eric

(Or Bitty. That’s what my team all calls me)

Part 13

Perfect Ch. 1

A/N: I’m super anxious but here is my first official post. It’s just a single chapter around 4.5k. I plan on this being a pretty detailed, long-form story so if you like it, hang in there. I promise it’ll speed up once we get past exposition. I’m also highly aware of the switches from past/present tense, but I’m too tired to fix it and I’ve been so hesitant to post it’s either a now or never. I hope you guys enjoy <3

Football!Calum x Dancer!OC  

-----

"Don't make me come over there!" It may have looked like I was yelling into the racks of clothing and shoes in my closet, and to be honest, I might as well be. 

"You worry too much, Celley." I can hear the smile on my best friend, Brynn's face from my bed in the other room. 

"I do, but only because you don't give a fuck, B and I know those boys don't," I said, counting each person out on my fingers. "That's four people in, and not a single fuck is being given. Someone's got to, or nothing would get done." 

"You've got a point. The delivery was a little aggressive, but I'm moved nonetheless," Ash spoke up through Brynn's phone. 

"I'm cleaning as we speak, Cel. It's gonna be fine," Luke chimed in from the boys' side of the phone. 

"I can hear you lads playing FIFA," I said with an exasperated sigh.

We have a party planned at the boy's house tonight. A party I only had five hours to prepare, but that's the beauty of university, right? Spontaneity. All precautions to the wind. Everything that I never could be in high school and am still afraid to do today after a whole month of coursework. Don't ask me what I think might happen. Spontaneous combustion? Instantaneous death? A party that no one has fun at because I didn't have time to make an updated playlist or look up the actual rules for any drinking games? 

"Brynn, are you ready to go?" I ask, peeking my head out of my closet to look at her sprawled out across my bed. I can hardly see her underneath the excessive number of decorative pillows and thick white down cover.

"I just got so comfortable. I was actually contemplating taking a nap."

"Please," I plead, batting my lashes over large dewy eyes. It’s a trick I picked up after so many lyrical dances over the years. Direct eye contact with these watery eyes always left judges speechless.

"Ugh… fine, but I'm getting wasted tonight and sleeping in this wonderful bed. Have your asses in gear by the time we get there," she said, hanging up on the boys and throwing pillows haphazardly across the floor. I cringed at every one as it landed in the thick white carpet. I don't bother telling her that I hadn't expected the night to end any other way. I pull myself back into the closet, eyeing my options once more. I could either go with a red gingham top, or I could tie my white vogue tee shirt in the front for a more casual look. Both require a bra sadly.

"The red is trying too hard," Brynn said, leaning against the doorframe. "You can't pull out picnic bitch chic at a party."

"I guess you're right." I pull the tee over my head careful to avoid touching the thin white fabric to my made-up face. Once I had a knot secured at the base of my rib cage, I fluffed my hair as if it could get any bigger and smoothed out my denim skirt. "Shoe's and I'm good. What about you?" I said eyeing her in the reflection of my full-length mirror. She wore a white hoodie underneath black overalls and black high-top converse. Splitting her hair in half, she tied it up into multicolored space buns on top of her head. Brynn is the kind of girl who could put on mascara and chapstick five minutes before she left, and she’s effortlessly beautiful. Her freckles do most of the work across her nose and cheeks, making her insanely adorable.

"Done. Let's hit the road, Jack," she said, walking towards the door to my studio flat. I quickly replace the pillows back on the bed and turned off all the lights before joining her. She grabbed the keys to my Jeep, knowing I’m too preoccupied to drive us.

"Are we stopping at the store on the way or coming back out?"

"Stopping on the way. We just need paper towels, red cups, more ping pong balls because Mikey lost three of the last four, and snacks. I also found this recipe for a cool looking pink drink, but the boys are all stocked on beer."

"I almost hate the fact that I can't use my fake here. I spent good money and almost got arrested for something that's legal here." I smile, scrolling through my checklist one more time to make sure I didn't forget anything.

"Well that's your fault for not doing a simple google search before you came to uni in Aus."

"I'm just saying, in America, I would be a plug." She turned wide out into the street, speeding past every car. She has a bit of a lead foot.

"That one's lost on me, love." I try to keep up with her American slang, but I wasn't able to watch a lot of American shows or anything growing up, so I'm a little behind to put it gently.

She said she has a southern accent, but I can't tell any difference. Everything she says just sounds brutal to me. Shit slams, anything can pop off apparently, and a lot of good things burn. At least that's what I gather when she uses 'fire' and 'flames' as adjectives. 

I met Brynn at new student orientation. She seemed to be the only other one unamused by the school's welcoming parade meant to encourage school spirit, so as soon as our parents left, we left campus to explore the surrounding area locating the nearest shops and eating places. She was unlike any friend I had ever made swearing and speaking in riddles. I went to an all-girls catholic school filled to the brim with carbon copies of perfect people. We were second to none in both academics and clubs, which my parents loved, and Brynn was the absolute antithesis of that. She was a self- proclaimed 'thick' queen who was a pleasant deviance to the bird thin girls I was usually surrounded by. Her hair couldn't choose a color after multiple self- dye jobs. Even her mixed Mexican and Jamaican heritage were new to me. She said what she wanted and smiled wide at everything. I'm just happy she saw something in me to stick around even if it was the fact that I kidnapped her on the first day, keeping her from someone better.

I grab the frame of the car as she whips into the car park stopping short of a disgruntled gentleman in the crosswalk. She cursed loudly, causing my face to heat up. I contemplate jumping out of the car seeing as how the doors to the Jeep are safely kept in my garage. It’ll be a quick getaway, but I may need to make sure she makes it into a spot that isn't already occupied with this lovely gentlemen's car.

We soon found a spot and made quick work of the shopping, splitting the list I organized by section right down the middle. We’re back on the road in no time, heading closer to the edge of campus where the boys lived.

Ashton was actually the first person to befriend Brynn. They met at a summer fellowship program that put them in parts of Australia that don't have service for a hundred miles. They have that rugged woodsman thing in common. It kept them in touch through their final year in high school before she 'coincidentally' got accepted into the same university as him an entire ocean's length away. They were equally as smiley; she was just a little more… brash at times which is hard to believe. She didn't want to admit that she was nervous when he invited her to the house, he shared with two of his best mates, so I didn't mention anything when she asked me along. As the male version of Brynn, I immediately got on with Ashton. Mikey was chirpy and so sweet despite his punk persona. His other mate Luke was quiet only offering his very corny, yet intriguing commentary. He seems to be the closest thing I have to the friends I'm used to at home despite his lip ring. We formed a group of sorts meeting up in the library to study during the week and finding anything else but coursework to do on the weekends.

Our first kickback was just a barbeque featuring the five of us until Ash invited a few friends he made throughout the week with his open and boyish charm. Brynn had a few of her own, and Mikey wanted to join in on the fun, so he found a few friends to join. Luke and I were just fine meeting people as they were brought to us. Before we knew it, there was a group chat of about fifteen of us with more and more ideas of who to invite to the weekend shenanigans.

The boys had felt the pressure of expectation early this morning before Michael was a functioning human being. He shooed everyone off with a 'ya sure' before hanging up and going back to sleep. Brynn called me with our invite not only to attend the party but to host it at about 5:00 and of course, I freaked out. I plan everything, including some of the most successful events of my college career, if I do say so myself, so I took the praise for last week's party in stride. The difference is, I didn't spend my week planning out this event down to the second hand, so anything can happen. I wouldn't feel all the way like expelling my insides if it hadn't been confirmed that the first-year football players were going to be in attendance after today's match.

This confirmation came directly to Ash from another one of his mates from college, Calum Hood. Not only the best first year but the best player on the whole bloody team. He's also the hottest. The first time I saw him, he was leaving the classroom I was walking into. He opened the door just as I turned the handle, pushing me backward and almost to the floor.

"My fault, mate," he said distractedly, zipping his bag and flipping it over his shoulder. He was obviously sponsored by Nike dressed top to bottom in their slate grey gear, the school's emblem attached to every piece. The only thing I could tell wasn't sponsored was the gray beanie he had pulled down over his ears covering his hair. When he finally looked up a smirk graced his pink lips.

"You alright, doll?"

I couldn't tell if my reaction showed on my face because I didn't expect him to be so adorable with the brute force, he opened the door with. I just nodded my head taking deep breaths, trying to keep my face still. His tan skin was smooth and warm, complimenting the heat in his eyes that was slowly melting my resolve.

"Right. Well you're late, so you might want to…" he trailed off, nodding over his shoulder into the classroom.

"Right," I replied, hoping my hair was doing that cool thing it does when the wind pushes it back. It's either doing that, or the curls are fighting themselves on top of my head. It's so thick I can never really tell without a mirror, but let's be honest. My hair tells me what it wants to do, I rarely have any say in the matter. Instead of walking out of the door, he extended his arm, acting as a human door frame for me to walk under. When I turned my head to look again, he was gone.

I showed up a little earlier to class the next day to see if I could catch him again. Then I was late again and right on time before I decided to be outside the room before his class even ended. He was still nowhere to be found. I had practiced redeeming myself with a smile or maybe even words. Anything but how cringe-worthy I had been the first time, but to no avail. I didn't see him again until the boys dragged us to the first football game.

I don't mind sports at all. I grew up going to my older brother's rugby matches, so I'm not entirely clueless. Brynn, on the other hand, sat unmoving and quiet for the first time in our friendship. I think she concerned Ashton the most, as he asked her if she was ok every time the ball stopped moving.

"Someone tell me why I chose the guitar over football again," Luke said, pulling his hands down his face. "I was just as good as him, but now he's got fans and his face on posters."

"If that was true, I'm sure you'd be out there, dude," Mikey said, patting his shoulder. Michael wasn't interested in playing sports unless it was FIFA on the Xbox, but he was supportive nonetheless. Luke wrapped an arm around me, pulling me closer, so he could point out the center forward dribbling through two defenders.

"That's my best mate, or at least he was before he got club offers," he said, taking a swig of his beer.

"I'm surprised he even came to university. He could've just gone pro," Ash said before he cursed the refs loudly. The boy Luke had been pointing out was quick with powerful legs and defined arms. His jaw was clenched, making it sharp enough to cut through glass. Thick curly hair was pushed out of his face with a thin gauzy headband, a gold streak shone prominently in the surrounding darkness of his curls. As he made quick work of the remaining defender, there was only himself and the goalkeeper who looked menacing. Making a sharp left jab, he caused the goalie's weight to shift, giving him the perfect opportunity to use his nondominant foot for a goal.

I jumped out of the way as the boys leaped up, hugging each other, and spilling beer. The entire crowd erupted in shouts, holding on to one another as if the world depended on it.

"CALUM! CALUM! CALUM!" the entire stadium roared. He smirked up at the crowd with a small wave. I gasped, grabbing onto Brynn's arm in surprise.

"Calum?" I asked incredulously. Oh boy what did I miss out on being dumbstruck? Not only is he incredibly attractive, but he's a football king? My parents would love him, I would literally win my family if I could've snagged him, but I'm stupid. So incredibly stupid.

This is why tonight is so stressful and important. If I can not only get a football player, but the best football player here and he looks that good, I can get my parents off my back. My mum went to university solely to get a husband, which she found in my dad. She worked as a primary school teacher until he could support them at his father's law firm, and before you know it, he was running the place. They pop out a few kids, dad runs for Parliament, and the rest is unfortunately history. Mum loved teaching, but she loved being a mum more. She just raised the 'perfect children' she liked to say to anyone who would listen. My too perfect to be true brother Cleo and her wannabe prima ballerina Celeste, me. So tonight, I have to look perfect, and everything has to be perfect, but I don't have time to bustle around and host. This party has to go on autopilot, so I can set my focus on Calum.

"It could be worse, Celley," Brynn shrugged as she set the grocery bags down on the counter of the boys' home. She's right, it could be. I didn't expect it to be this clean actually, but there were no discarded clothes in sight, no pizza boxes on the counters, and no beer cans all over the place. At first glance the place looks fine, I just have to get the dishes out of the sink and out of sight, so they're not broken. A quick vacuum run and the place would work out just fine. I relaxed a little letting my shoulders pull forward.

"Thank you, Lukey," I said, starting the water in the sink. I knew he was the only person who really did any cleaning around here. As much as they were all messy, he couldn't live in filth for too long.

"No problem," he replied sitting on the island watching me work.

"Hey, I picked up my own stuff," Michael complained looking through the bags we brought in pulling out various things.

"You picked up the underwear that your mum wrote your name in and sat back down." Ash always laughs when he chastises, never letting you know if he’s serious or not.

"Exactly. I picked up MY stuff. You guys never listen to me." He shook his head, disapprovingly.

"Thank you too, Mikey, but start throwing those balls around this kitchen, and I will cut yours off as a replacement," I said sweetly. His eyes went wide as he set the ping pong balls back in the bag he got them out of.

"So, what's the vibe going to be tonight?" Brynn asked, putting chips in bowls and swatting the boys’ hands away.

"Well I accidentally invited like twenty people this morning."

"And those people invited people," Ash added.

"And word got around so looks like we've got ourselves a rager," Luke said, rubbing his hands together with a devilish grin. "You've got to admit, we're becoming the best party house for first years."

"Calm down. We're just the only first-years who don't live in dorms where you can't party," Ashton said, punching Luke in the arm. Not many groups of friends stay together long enough or get into the same university for their parents to go in thirds on the house. It worked out to be less expensive than staying in dorms.

"We've got the fucking football team coming, Ash, I think we're doing pretty well." I listened to their banter silently as I cleaned and set things exactly where I had imagined them. The first guest started to arrive a few hours later after I had time to add a few extra touches and have my first glass of the wine Brynn and I had hidden in the fridge. Neither of us is too keen on liquor or beer.

Boys are scattered around the living room, passing around joints and playing FIFA. Girls talk around them, mingling on the patio. There’s a very competitive game of beer pong going on in the dining room that somehow consists of all four corners of the table instead of teams on halves. I was content for the first few hours refilling bowls and dancing with friends I had made at past parties. I even had time to play wingman for Michael and a blue-haired girl in the corner, but soon I got anxious. It was reaching the first hour of the new day. I found myself sitting on the floor between Luke's long legs watching him play Super Smash and stealing hits of the joint he had held between his fingers. I gave up on being cute at about two, smoking enough for my eyes to be as red as Luke's, and my shoes had long been discarded in one of the boy's rooms. I didn't know, nor did I care who's it was.

There were just about the maximum amount of people possible crammed into this small house, and I didn't bother saying excuse me as I got up to make my way to the bathroom. At one point there were so many people taller than me I felt I was walking through a forest. I tried slipping past one particularly muscular redhead boy caging a giggling blonde against the wall. I did my best to slip behind him, but he decided it was the perfect time to do the douche stretch and flex hitting me with the red cup in his hand. The pink sticky drink that was delicious if I do say so myself covered me from neck to foot. My skin went hot, and I'm pretty sure the blonde's giggles were going to cause me to evaporate the liquid from my skin with embarrassment alone. Where was my snarky American friend when I needed her to tongue-lash someone?

"I'm sorry, love," the boy said, failing to conceal his laughter. I tried to avoid his face at all costs burning a hole through his chest with my eyes. The school's emblem was stitched into his slate grey shirt, but I couldn't quite remember where I had seen this exact shirt before. I didn't have time to worry about it with my shirt becoming more see-through by the second and my head spinning in circles.

"Just let me by please," I said. Redhead stepped closer to the girl who was giving me a snarky look over his shoulder. "Stay in your lane, honey," I said, trying out one of Brynn's colloquialisms on my own tongue. My glare was enough to split the crowd like the red sea as I stormed past. Just as I reached the bathroom and twisted the handle, it swung open forcefully, revealing a disheveled brunette with smeared makeup and haunting blue eyes.

"What the fuck happened to you?" she said with an amused smile playing at the corner of her lips. 

"I could ask you the same thing," I said, pushing my hair out of my face. "Are you finished in there, so I can get cleaned up or?" She just smirked sauntering out with a wink. I shook my head, entering the bathroom and shutting the door behind me. I looked in the mirror at my hair that was slowly but surely frizzing out, and my shirt may as well have been a window into my soul for how see-through it was. My mascara was smudged in the corners of my eyes and my lips had lost their shine ages ago.

"Are you alright?" I was startled by a voice coming from the toilet.

"Oh my goodness, I didn't know anyone was in here," I said, covering my eyes. "I thought that girl was the only one and she left and--"

"It's fine. I'm not doing anything but looking at my phone." I peeked through the cracks of my fingers to see a boy was sat on the toilet cover searching diligently through his phone. I scanned him from head to toe. Black Vans, faded black skinny jeans, a cut-up muscle shirt that was barely attached at his hips, exposing his defined torso and arms. His warm skin, his dark hair with a single gold streak running up the front. I gulped, hoping I would take my own advice and just spontaneously combust.

"I'm gonna just go," I said quietly, reaching for the door behind me. I had forgotten how quick he was on the field because he scared me shitless when his hand captured my shoulder stopping me from leaving.

"No, I'll go," he said quickly. "I don't think I'm going to find what I'm looking for anyways. Unless… do you happen to know whose party this is?"

"It's my mate's house actually," I said, quirking an eyebrow in confusion. He should know. He invited himself and the whole team this morning.

"So you know all the lads? Michael, Ashton…"

"And Luke," I finished for him.

"I've been trying to reach Ashton and I just barely caught Mikey before he went down to the beach with some girl. He let me in, but there's so much going on I never made it past the kitchen. Do you know where Luke is?"

"Uh… couch." I pushed my hair out of my face taking a deep breath. I may as well just give up at this point. I'm in no position to charm anyone, and I can see the remnants of that girl's lip gloss on his lips. It was kind of cute on his pink pout, but I shook my head to clear the thought. He's not looking at me like that, and he probably never will.

I turned the faucet on testing the temp before grabbing a washcloth from the cupboard and washing the stickiness from my neck and exposed stomach. I expected him to leave, but he just sat back on the toilet cover, fiddling with his thumbs. He looked forlorn, his eyes longing.

"You ok?" I asked undoing the tie at the front of my shirt and attempting to wring it out to no avail. I glanced at the sad boy in the mirror and shrugged before pulling the wet material over my head and rinsing it out underneath the water. It's not like anything was left to the imagination with it on.

"Have you ever heard Luke say anything about me?" he asked quietly.

"Kinda," I tilted my head slightly as if it would help me think harder. "He did say you used to be his best mate when we went to one of your matches."

"He did?" he asked, perking up like a puppy.

"Yeah, watches every match. About loses his mind with pride every time you score, which you do quite often, good on you," I said, fixated with the faint pink water swirling around the drain. Maybe it wouldn't be a lost cause to put this in the wash. I'm so high and sleepy it probably won't make it tonight. "Well, I'm gonna go. If you work it up in you to go see Lu, tell him I've gone back to my flat. I'm sure he'd be thrilled to see you."

"I'll do that," he said, standing up assuredly. "I'm Calum, by the way."

"I gathered that," I said with a small grin. "I'm Celeste." When I opened the door, I didn't imagine how bad it might look with me leaving sans shirt, with the school's football star following close behind me. I decided to start caring in the morning when I had Brynn to complain to. I'm a person who knows how to quit while they're ahead. My perfect night shouldn't be able to get any worse, and I'm not going to give the universe the time to try. 

Intro to Valentino

Is that [VALENTINO EMMANUEL DE LA CRUZ]! It’s so nice to see them back at Hogwarts! [HE] is [16], and a [SIXTH YEAR] [SLYTHERIN] and totally looks like the muggle [FROY GUTIERREZ]. They are known to be [DETERMINED], and [ASSERTIVE] but also have a tendency to be [SADISTIC] and [MANIPULATIVE]. There are whispers around the castle that in the unrest that is brewing they are [SIDING WITH THE NIGHT WALKERS]. [OTHER INFO: Slytherin beater, hitwizard for the Night Walkers]

Full Character Name: Valentino Emmanuel de la Cruz. But a lot of people just call him Val.

Does your character have siblings? What are their names?: Nope.

What is your characters best subject in school? It’s not taught at Hogwarts, but Dark Arts. If we’re picking off the actual curriculum, probably Charms.

What is your characters wand? Rougarou hair core, yew, 11 inches. Since he started school in North America, that’s where he got the wand. The wandmaker definitely looked uneasy when a rougarou core picked him. It wasn’t a wand she’d made herself, but one of many unsold ones from the American wandmaker Violetta Beauvais, who kept the fact that she used the cores secret since they are “believed to have an affinity for the Dark Arts, like vampires to blood, as the Rougarou itself is a highly dangerous beast.”

Can your character cast a Patronus? What is it? What memory do they use?: He can’t (yet??? who knows), but if he could, it would be a bull shark.

Who is your characters best friend?: He gets along decently well with his housemates — the pureblood ones at least — but if he had to pick a person, it would be Balthazar. They have the same lack of inhibitions.

Does your character look up to anyone? Who? His parents. Joaquin and Regina de la Cruz. They own an empire, and crush their opponents under their feet like they’re nothing. Val wants that for himself one day, and he wants a partnership like the one his father has with his mother too. They’ve found a common darkness within one another, and they see each other as equals and for who they really are. It’s the kind of true love that Val wants to find one day. Working together and loving each other makes them both better, stronger and he’s always idolized them as the perfect kind of couple.

What is your characters relationship like with their family? Valentino is the apple of his parents’ eye. They spoil him mercilessly and have built up quite an ego within him. The child of the union between two powerful and rich Mexican and Indigenous  (Caxcan) pureblood families in Mexico, Valentino has always felt special. Like the rules didn’t apply to him and that the world owed him everything and his parents certainly fostered that sentiment within him. They won’t hear a word against their son and they will use their power, money, influence — and let’s be real, threats — to keep him out of trouble and make sure nothing’s ever linked back to him or on his record.

If your character has siblings, do they have a favorite? No siblings.

What is your characters go-to spell in a duel? Crucio. It’s efficient. But sometimes he wants to draw things out, watch people bleed, so he’ll use something else.

What spell does your character use most often? Obliviate. Sometimes he wants the extra insurance that his victims won’t tattle, so he makes sure they forget who’d hurt them.

Five or more facts/headcanons about your character:

He *hates* being in Defense Against the Dark Arts. It’s a stupid, pointless class filled with propaganda. The Dark Arts are a beautiful thing and he’s been trained in them since he was a child. It’s just one more kind of magic, censoring it won’t achieve anything.

Val is actually sharp as a whip. Along with excelling in most of his classes, he can speak English, French, Spanish and Portuguese. He picked up French and Portuguese during his brief time at Ilvermorny. If he applied himself to literally anything good, he’d probably make the world a better place, but alas, he’s a sadistic little shithead.

He has an owl named Luci — short for Lucifer. He doesn’t *love* it, but he’s certainly fond of it.

Because his mother is Caxcan, she knows magic that isn’t known or understood outside of Mexico’s Indigenous wizarding community. They’re tightly kept secrets, only meant to stay within the tribe, and Valentino knows those spells and cherishes them, holding them close to his chest. They’re a secret between he and his mother — Joaquin knows they know these spells of course, but he understands it’s not his place to try and learn them. Sometimes Val thinks about teaching them to his own children one day, and keeping the magic going.

Val knicks books from the Restricted Section all the time. It’s not like security at Hogwarts is particularly good. Besides if they really didn’t want students reading those books about the Dark Arts, they wouldn’t have them in the library, would they?

Bio: 

Valentino is an asshole and he’s not afraid to admit it. Born with a silver spoon in his mouth and two parents that constantly reminded him that he was better than the people around him and could do everything and anything, he never really learned the meaning of consequences. 

The de la Cruzes run a secret, underground operation where they’re working to figure out the secret immortality. They’re not foolish. They’re not going after it in the absolutely irresponsible, ridiculous way that Tom Riddle did it. Instead, they have a lab, full of creative, and equally bigoted wizards, happy to test out different things on a variety of muggles that were nicked from places they’d never be noticed. What’s one homeless person off the streets of London? It’s just a drop in a bucket. Once they figure it out, then they’ll do it on themselves, but they’re not going to start hacking at their own souls or become shells of themselves to do it. On the surface though, they run several powerful wizarding businesses. It’s all kosher. Nothing to see here. What’s not to love about Joaquin and Regina? They’re such lovely company, and the pride of wizarding high society.

When Val was five, his babysitter fell asleep while she was meant to be watching him. He covered her in a blanket, and then ventured out of his room to go find his parents. Once he’d located them in his father’s office, he stumbled into an unexpected scene: his father torturing two men and their families, including children, because the men had broken a deal with them. Joaquin decided that now that he had seen what they did, it was time he step into the family business. Joaquin talked him through his actions, Regina making sure her son was listening carefully to his father, and in the end, Joaquin made sure Valentino was holding onto his wand when he cast a killing curse, so that he’d know what it felt like. He also made sure Valentino watched as he killed the rest, including a child his age. Regina killed the babysitter after — Margarita had been sleeping on the job after all, and that’s not what she was paid to do. The saga was what awakened something in Val, and it sparked his continuous desire to be better, stronger more powerful as well as his fascination with the Dark Arts.

He started school at Ilvermorny when he was 11, and was sorted into Wampus. He didn’t enjoy his time there and found the school’s overwhelming focus on harmony and stamping out the dark arts to be insufferable. He often skipped Defense Against The Dark Arts class and used that time to teach himself the Dark Arts instead. When he was in third year he hexed a classmate so badly he permanently disfigured him — and was lucky the student didn’t die because of the attack — and that was the last straw for the administrators at Ilvermorny. They expelled him but a large donation from his parents kept the truth from coming to light. Instead, the public story as it stands is that his parents moved the entire family to England so he could attend Hogwarts as it’s a more prestigious institution. He hasn’t had any explosions quite as violent as the one that got him kicked out of Ilvermorny quite yet, but with his activity with the Night Walkers, it’s safe to say that may not stand anymore.

He doesn’t necessarily believe in the Night Walkers’ cause but he’s always up for some mayhem and causing pain. But really he’s after glory, admiration and prestige for himself, not whatever the Night Walkers are working towards. But it’s a means to an end. He plays to the beat of his own drum, but for now, the Night Walkers are useful for him to be in.

Despite his foul temper, he’s also *very* popular and has a bit of a reputation within school as a playboy as he’ll fall into bed with nearly any guy who wants him. Like everything else, his parents keep his “indiscretions” on lock-down too — he’s gay, and they support that fully, they just don’t want tabloids smearing his name just because he likes to hit it and quit it. He can be incredibly charming when he wants to be and is a truly believable liar, and that keeps the normally sharp Hogwarts administration on his side.

The most romantic non-date

June 25 2019, retrospective

There’s a lot of things I want to remember about my day with Sèbastien. He was older than I expected, it turned out he was 46. And he was in incredible shape, much better than me, the kind of toned body from a person who actually uses their body every day, not at the gym but just through living life. He was so, so tan. Everybody was in the south. By the time I left, I was almost one of them. The hat was funny, it was one of those flat brimmed DC caps that gave him such a youthful touch and would be cliché or look dirt baggy on a younger guy. I remember thinking that his face seemed super French with his bone structure and mouth especially, but now I can’t even paint a mental picture of him. I remember a little greyness but I can’t remember if it was in his hair or whether I might have noticed it in a beard, or whether he even had one. I regret not looking at his hands. 

As he puttered around on the boat, getting us where we needed to go, he would sing and hum softly to himself. It absolutely caught me by surprise, almost every time. I still forget that he did that and then I remember all over again and think it’s a wonderful trait for a person to have. The one thing he did that I didn’t like was pull a starfish out of the water to show me... “she” was beautiful but I felt so uncomfortable knowing she was wrenched from her perch, and I just wanted him to put her back. In that moment though, there was a youthful and boyish fascination. He wanted me to see her little suction cups, and explain that her short legs were probably the result of an attack by birds. I like the enthusiasm, even though I already know or guessed most of these things.

Our first stop was the beach of Port Cros, where there’s a small dock to tie up. As he secured the boat he would murmur in French, English, or a combination. Several times I heard the word, “Alors,” not knowing what it meant. I asked, but he was confused, he didn’t know what word I was asking about. Then again he said it. “Aha!” I pointed at his face (bad manners). “There it is again!” “Which?” “The last one. Alore?” “Ahhh, Alors.” “Yeah that, what’s it mean?” Bafflement in attempting to explain. “Is it like how we use “okay” in English? It kind of fills lots of gaps?” Yes, kind of. 

From there we snorkeled and eventually went ashore because the waters were still pretty cold except for in the shallows. On shore we went without shoes, and he checked with me twice to make sure that I was sure I was comfortable (I was). I said I prefer living life barefoot, which is obviously not possible in the city. He said he kicks off his shoes in March and doesn’t put them back on until September, but that a few weeks ago he’d been touring with a German couple who insisted they didn’t need shoes, only to have to cut the hike short because of their sensitive feet. He took me to the top of a lookout point by an abandoned building that I think had a green door. Made a joke about it being a nice little house if you could fix it up. On the way back down I stopped on the trail to take a deep breath and he turned around, mistaking my inhale for a gasp. I was just taking in the piney, jasmine, mineral and dusty scent of the island that smelled so much like summer. On the walk back to the dock we stopped to people watch a minute at the beach, and for some reason on the dock I wound up explaining that next year I would be returning to go to Bordeaux for my sister’s wedding (”No, she’s not French, it’s just that you have a destination wedding when you want to be polite and invite people but you don’t want them to accept or actually come.” “That seems like a good solution.”) Had a small snack on the boat. I don’t remember in what order or when we got to talking, but the similarities were so striking - at least to me:

- On Mexican cenotes, both having been. His experience was to stop and listen. “What did you hear?” “My heart.” There was a thoughtfulness and a pause, there seemed to be more that couldn’t be expressed in English.

- On liveaboarding, both having done. He crossed the Atlantic in 11 days, 5 days of prep, on a catamaran with 3 or 4 friends, going from Africa to Brazil. God if that isn’t just the sexiest thing ever. I wonder if that was before the kids.

- On camping. Every year at the peak of tourist season in August he “disappears into the mountains” for a week. He mentions the calanques to me, and asserts that I know them, which I think is funny or flattering maybe that he assumes I know.

- On environmentalism. He tries to avoid plastic and brings his reusable bags to the weekly market, stepping into a grocery store only once or twice a month. Trying to teach environmentalism to his 3 kids. 

- On adventure. “Would you ever live on a boat and sail around the Mediterranean?” Absolutely. But there’s the kids to consider (2 teens, 1 around 9) and the several small businesses. (He seems to be a “guy I know” kind of guy). But someday. 

Maybe that’s when he asked my age, which surprised me mildly. I think that was when he mentioned I was young enough still to have those adventures. I regret noting out loud how he had his first kid when he was my age, because it put a space between us that I don’t think needed to be there.

There’s a word he used, a great one. I can’t remember what it was but it floored me that a non-native speaker knew it. I told him this, that I know many English speakers who don’t even know that word. He either didn't understand or didn’t have a response. I wish I could remember the word.

It’s funny to me that he thinks Italy’s food is better than France’s, on account of it being simple ingredients of the highest quality. That’s what I thought France did so well. His expression towards the ocean seems wistful, longing for the larger and wilder waves. 

I tell him about Arizona when he mentions the vast wildernesses of America being so alluring. I could live there if it weren’t so far from the sea, and he seems to nod agreement. 

I have a rant about rich people, their yachts, and the weird and annoying things they do with their money. I think he’s probably just humoring me or being polite and I mention that my friends tell me I talk about depressing things, which makes him laugh. I grimace and apologize. 

At a little cove where we stop again to snorkel, I wander ashore to look at the schist folds more closely and then I notice plastic, and the more I look the more of it I see. I already found a plastic bag and tucked it into my bikini side, to dispose of after swimming. I start collecting bits of plastic, rubber wine corks, and mostly styrofoam. When I turn around, Sèbastien had paddle boarded over and produced a half torn garbage bag from the ground and was filling it, so we worked silently, picking up pieces until the bag was full. I noticed moments before he said aloud that the more pieces we picked the smaller the remaining ones got. I made a comment about micro plastics. It was depressing, realizing in a moment of pause that there was still so much rubbish around. That’s when he unwittingly gifted me the mantra I didn’t know I needed: 

“Alors. It’s not everything, but it’s important.” It washes over me like cold water, jarring and refreshing all at once. I never believed in love at first sight until this day. 

There’s a seagull back by the boat that’s cautiously optimistic about our picnic lunch. Sèbastien tries to lure it with various treats (it doesn’t care for watermelon). Is it true that we both think these common birds are beautiful, or is he just being agreeable so I have a good tour experience? 

After about 5 hours in the sun I’m getting drowsy and the boat motion is lulling me to sleep as I nod off while he’s driving, and he offers me a towel for my head. I get the impression that this is someone used to caring for other people, and realize that’s what I need.

I need to be able to relax, but to relax I need to trust that somebody else has their hands on the wheel. And I could cry with relief at this realization and with frustration that the person who gave it to me is probably completely unattainable. 

Coming into the final harbor we talk about the Levant and he admits he never spends any time there but he isn’t sure why, other than that the kids are emphatic about not wanting to go. I laugh because of course that makes perfect sense. 

I want to see him again. The kids are going to NYC next week with their mother, but he’s never been. I say I have an AirBnB and he’s welcome to stay if he ever decides to go, and that I hope he does. It’s 5pm and it feels abrupt when he says he should leave. I’m left wondering if I came on too strong or made him uncomfortable with the overture of invitation. Then I wonder too if maybe I didn’t come on strongly enough. 

It’s a cruel coincidence that the house I stay at in Hyères is steps away from the one he rents out to vacationers. It’s even crueler that the day after our day I see the same yellow boat on the dock and have to convince myself it’s not his. I could have talked to him for many, many more hours than we had. I so want to see him again and have no idea if this is me being limerent again or whether there was some mutual connection. 

When’s the last time I had so much in common with a person? It feels like never. But maybe I am living in the wrong places, maybe for him it’s common and the people around here are often outdoorsy, adventurous environmentalists. This might be the (possibly misleading) lynchpin that convinces me to make the move.

3 days later I ask if he has a website for the environmentalist friend who runs the NGO and a week after that there’s still no response. I don’t have any recourse except to chalk it up to one-sided attraction, which makes me deeply sad and I’m not ready to let it go yet.

completion| myg

| hybrid au | college au |

pairings: min yoongi/reader, future bts/reader (platonic)

In which you're looking for a roommate and find more than what you originally bargained for.

part one 》part two 》part three

Warnings: mild awkwardness, mentions anxiety, more innuendos, mentions hybrid discrimination

A/N: I have finally updated, hopefully this isn't too much of a hot mess. Also, Jintro is here,, Epiphany has arrived and perhaps I cried.

-

The move had gone well, if one ignored the mildly awkward air that settled between the two housemates. Yoongi had been wondering when the discomfort would set in between the two hybrids, and it seems it didn't take very long for them to fumble in uncomfortably dragged out periods of silence. Neither of them tried too hard to talk to each other, and from what he could tell, (Y/N) was more anxious than intentionally rude. Her pretty, surprisingly well manicured hands shook while handing him a drink and her body radiated a sort of stiffness that resembled that of a bristling cat.

Not that it was too far from the truth.

He could also smell her anxiety, the bitterness stinging his nose, reminding him of his previous visit where he'd also detected her unease. The smell was not as overpowering as one would expect, perhaps because it wasn't overwhelming her, but it did peak out from behind the natural sweetness she exuded. Even with the stiffness, she was still quite pretty and he found himself admiring her a little more closely out of curiosity. She was dressed quite comfortably, in jeans cuffed a few times at the ankles and a baggy pale blue sweatshirt. She was quite tall, he realised, standing at almost his own height.

She must've felf the heat of his eyes on her back because she noticeably stiffened but did not look back. He did not know if it was to save herself or himself from further awkwardness.

The next few hours were filled with tense glances and muffled apologies on (Y/N)'s behalf every time she bumped into him. She helped him move his things in and allowed him time to set his stuff up. The last thing they did was establish boundaries for each other as roommates. That had proven to be quite easy, as she was quite lenient as long as no property was damaged.

"I don't mind visitors, not that I have very many over, aside from Anaya," He remembered her saying, tilting her head slightly, "So you're welcome to bring friends over, Min Yoongi."

That would not be happening soon - at all, he thought to himself. He did not want to expose her to the sextet of lovely but agonisingly loud men he called friends, lest he wanted to startle her.

Once all was seemingly fixed, (Y/N) excused herself to run some errands, leaving Yoongi on his own with a newly added key to his Kumamon keychain. He allowed himself to slump over on the couch, laying in silence, no screeching of chairs and baby rattles, no obnoxiously loud bulldozer footsteps from above or cacophonies of warbled moans. A tiny smothered screech of relief left him, along with strings of thankful words, startling the fat cat seated on a large black beanbag.

The only response he got was an insulted mrrow from said fat cat, who quickly resettled himself and went back to sleep.

-

A few weeks had passed since Min Yoongi had moved in and it was going far better than (Y/N) expected. He was tidy enough; although she did occasionally catch a glimpse of scattered clothes on his floor and a few empty boxes he had yet to get rid of, but she kept her nose out of that, he wasn't disruptive at all and Poe seemed to tolerate him, at bare minimum. They didn't see too much of each other, which might be for the best, she mused, as they were both unbelievably busy. (Y/N) spent most of her time managing her studies as a sophomore, her job at a clinic, the weekly volunteer work at a hybrid shelter all while attempting to keep herself sane. She'd been lucky to have a few days off when she'd met Yoongi, but that was long over and she was back on relying on the carefully masked neuroticism caused by her awful sleeping schedule to keep her running, as well as the chewy breakfast bars and cold coffee that ran through her veins.

Yoongi was not much different than she was, he'd find himself spending hours working on unfinished songs to upload to his SoundCloud and finishing hastily written essays for a music theory class as well as making sure his senior project was as proper as possible. On top of school, he juggled a paid internship at a small entertainment company, working on projects that were not quite to his liking. The artists he was tasked had a tendency of being snobs, despite being newbies, and lacked any kind of vision and passion. He could not count the amount of times he'd wanted to slam his head through his keyboard, praying for a concussion to avoid listening to that disaster. In short, the nights he could have spent sleeping were spent perfecting his music and others, as well.

A good portion of their interactions were centered around extremes. They'd find themselves both emerging from their respective caves to refill on coffee and maybe, nibble on a cookie. Conversations, while not necessary, became common.

"Why are you still up Min Yoongi?" She questioned, bleary eyes peering from behind thick lenses. Her ears were noticeable droopy, indicating her exhaustion.

"Why are you still up?" He responded, opening the fridge to grab a bottle or two of cold coffee. She looked far more tired than he did.

She hummed in response, sipping on her own scalding beverage, "What're you working on now?" She pushed forward a plate of Mexican sweet bread, encouraging him to sit down.

He noticed she had a tendency of doing that, gently coaxing him into taking breaks longer than the three minutes it took for ramen to cook.

He sat across from her, opening a bottle of his coffee and taking a long sip before answering, "I'm trying to finish a track for one of the idols I'm working with," He paused, leaning over to grab a piece of sugary bread, "I could have been finished a few days ago but he insisted that it wasn't good enough for him." His words became grumbled towards the end of his sentence, eyebrows scrunched up gently and lips forming a small pout. His ears twitched in tandom with his tail as he nibbled on the bread.

Their late night coffee runs were quickly becoming something (Y/N) looked forward to, despite the dragging of her eyelids and the slumping of her body. For one, late night coffee was heavenly, even if it resulted in her crashing after an hour or two of shakiness. Second, it allowed her an opportunity to truly get to know the enigma that was Min Yoongi without the anxiety that swallowed her up during full consciousness. While she often expected him to ignore her questions, he never did. He would answer after some deliberation, his deep voice coming slightly fragmented from the frequent pausing he did in his speech. She found that he was quite warm, especially when he spoke about his friends and music. His eyes would soften from steel to oozing dark chocolate. When he got particularly passionate, he'd begin to enunciate his words with appropriately vivid hand movements while she listened.

In all, Min Yoongi was not as intimidating as she had expected. If anything, he was quite cute when he pouted.

"Is this the same guy from last time?"

"Yes, it is. With the amount of time he spends insulting my work, you'd think he'd piss off by now."

"What is his name? We don't want problematic favs in this household."

". . . I'd rather not disgrace your virgin ears."

"I heard you cussing someone out over the phone because they woke you up."

"Don't poke the sleeping bear, its the law of the jungle." He tsked, reaching for more bread, tail flickering gently in direct contradiction to his words.

"I can't believe you're hiding this man's identity, now I have to go through your company's website. BigHit was it?" She sighed wistfully, pulling out her phone.

"If you go blind, that's on you."

"I can't get any blinder than I currently am! If anything, he'd be doing me a favor. I wouldn't have to pay to see." She momentarily poked at her thick lenses.

"Capitalism at its worst. You'd rather be blind than pay to see."

"Prescription glasses are surprisingly expensive okay? Not that you'd know, with your fake ass five dollar hipster glasses."

"This is what the government wants, to pit the middle class against each other over monetary value."

"Are you sure you're not a liberal arts major? Also, stop distracting me, I'm really trying to find this dude. . ."

After a moment of contemplation, Yoongi gave a faux defeated sigh, "Since you want to know so bad, I'll tell you. But I'm not responsible for the loss of brain cells you may experience."

"I can't lose what I don't have anymore."

"Well, I lost five years off my lifespan just thinking about it."

"Min Yoongi, its just a name."

"Alright. His stage name is G-Spot Genie." He dropped the monstrosity with little to no regret, sipping his coffee.

(Y/N) said nothing for a moment, giving him enough time to correct himself, "Please say sike. Please."

Yoongi shrugged, perfectly encapsulating the nonchalance of a big cat.

"I. . . take it back, it is possible to lose what you don't have. Because he must've lost his damn mind."

He smirked, "So, what are your woes? Given that you look like you're about to pass out."

He wasn't wrong, but then again when didn't she look stressed. It seemed as though she was permanently set on overdrive, constantly bustling about either typing away on her dinky laptop or taking notes and reading ahead for her classes.

"I have a group project." She pushed out, her head falling to rest on her palm, "Just my luck I'm stuck with people who specialise in procrastination. Can they not do that on their own time? Also, you'd think people would know by now how to answer an e-mail, but apparently they don't know how to do that either!"

"What class is this for? Is the deadline soon?"

"The group project is for my hybrid studies class. We have a few more weeks to get it done but two weeks have already gone by and they've yet to actually plan with me. Plus! They keep shooting down my ideas and this one girl keeps stomping all over my last nerve." At this point her tail began to flicker quite violently in agitation and her eyes regained some semblance of frustrated awareness.

"What'd she do to make the kitty cat hiss?" The words left his mouth quite quickly, dry but playful and a part of his died internally. Much to his luck, she didn't catch it.

"For one, she was all over the guy in our group and I mean, all over. I was surprised she didn't pull his pants down right then and there, and I mean, her promiscuity is not the issue, ya know?" She was talking a bit fast, nearly rambling, "It's just kind of rude to act as if I don't exist, I'm also not into exhibitionism. When she isn't ignoring me, she's glaring at me and attempting to insult my intelligence. Like, I breathed??"

Yoongi, while not finding amusement in her frustration, did come to find her ranting kind of cute. It was endearing to see her lips form a pout while her face morphed into something other than indifference.

"Sometimes breathing is the biggest insult. She probably feels threatened or something, is she a hybrid?" Hybrids were known to be quite territorial.

"No, she's human, well they're both human." At that Yoongi exchange a brief look with (Y/N), words were not necessary to express that particular point. As much as hybrids have been engrained into society, the response was not always positive. Humans could still legally own a hybrid, further pushing the notion that they were inferior to humanity. Hybrid trafficking ran rampant and hate crimes were fairly common as well. In all, not everyone saw them as people.

"Well, (Y/N), you still have some time left so you should actually get some sleep before you pass out. Don't be stupid, you can finish working on it tomorrow and then tell your professor that they didn't do shit." He shrugged, voice coming out as a soft rumble. While his voice offered a suggestion, his eyes gave a command.

She sat up a little straighter once she caught the look in his eyes, they were sharper than before. A small shudder ran through her, "You're right, I'll do that. Now, please stop looking at me like that, you look constipated." She pushed aside the instinctive need to obey and focused on subduing the animal in her.

His nose scrunched up a bit as he sighed, taking one last sip of his coffee, watching as she finished up and set the cup in the sink. After a brief exchange of goodnight Min Yoongi, don't stay up too late! & goodnight (Y/N), he watched as she padded away with all the elegance of a feline. Once her door shut, he turned back around in his seat and mentally prepared himself to go back and stay up a few more hours.

Thank whatever deity was above that he didn't have class tomorrow, he could sleep in all he wanted.

The Four (Thousand, New) Questions

When I was growing up, I didn't really have to think too much about what it meant to be a Jewish American. A large part of that was living in New Jersey, where being a member of the tribe isn’t exactly an anomaly. In Newark, pretty much all of my friends were Jewish or Black, until I spent 2nd grade in Catholic School. You’d think that might make it weird, but even then, it wasn’t. All my new friends just had Irish and Italian names, and I got to sit in the back during mass and read, which is the dream of every second grader. And when we moved to the suburbs, things became, if anything, more Jewy. We joined Temple Israel and actually tried going to services every once in a while, and I went to Hebrew school on Saturdays. At my suburban public grade school, I learned the term “Jappy” something my friends and I called other girls that we considered spoiled, regardless of whether or not they were Jewish, and in junior high, the school bus that came from the most wealthy, Jewish neighborhood in town was sometimes referred to as “The Jew Canoe.” Who did we learn these terms from? Other Jews. We were the ones trading in the laughable stereotypes, because that’s American Jewish culture all over: we joke because we can. It’s never been in doubt in my lifetime that we belong here, to the degree that we are comfortable poking fun at ourselves, enough that while we are very aware that we aren’t and will never be the majority — and if you forget that, you always have the 30 to 60 days of Christmas to remind you — we are perfectly okay with that; and enough to feel safe in the knowledge that the past is the past, because in the Tri-State Area in the 1970s and 80s, anti-Semitism was about as real to me as Star Wars: something that existed long, long ago, in a galaxy far, far away. The same thing with Nazis. Nazis were the movie villains nobody got upset about. Nobody ever said, “Why do the Nazis always have to be the bad guys?” Why? Because they were the bad guys. 

That doesn’t mean that my Jewish identity was 100% uncomplicated, mostly because I was raised to figure stuff out for myself. Mine were the kind of parents who took us to fancy restaurants and said, “Want to order the escargot? Have at it!”, perhaps not realizing that they’d end up with a seven-year-old who liked to try every appetizer on the menu but had a stomach the size of a golfball – which led to my parents gaining weight in the 70s, which led to their joining the exercise craze in the 80s...See how history happens? Being able to make my own decisions meant I could quit Hebrew school after one year (I was already a well-practiced quitter of stuff I didn't like, such as wearing dresses and learning the violin). I felt a little guilty about it, so I was definitely Jewish in that way, but one of the reasons I couldn’t get behind religious school was the fact that Judaism was supposedly my religion, but – go figure – our family was not religious. My parents don’t agree on which type of not-religious they are, since my mother describes herself as an atheist and my father calls himself an agnostic, but that’s only if you push them, since neither of them cares enough about it either way. They still identify as Jewish, and therein lay the confusion for me: Judaism is kind of an ethnic identity as well as a religion, but in a weird way, because you can convert to it, which you can’t do with, say, Slavic, and because it’s not one where we all come from one specific place, since Jews were basically driven out of everywhere. Sure, my family were all driven out of one country, Poland, but that didn’t exactly make them feel Polish. No, we were definitely Jews, just the secular kind, which is actually a thing — although I didn’t know anyone else like that in high school, the result being that in my group of friends, a mix of Jews and non-Jews, I was in my own category of Jewish, But Doesn’t Know When Any of the Holidays Are.

When I went to college on the West Coast, where I was meeting new people all the time, it was common for people tell me I didn’t “look Jewish,” which seemed to just fit right in with every other confusing part of my Jewish identity. You might think that, as a stealth Jew, I’d finally be privy to negativity about us, but that never happened. That was around the time of the rise of the religious right, and there were a lot of born-again Christians at Stanford, my freshman dorm was full of them. But while they may have believed I was going to hell, most of them still seemed happy to hang with me while we were alive – one of them even took me out for fro yo once (that’s short for “frozen yogurt,” and eating it together at Stanford in 1987 was called “dating”). If anything, being Jewish around them was an advantage, because they never tried to rebirth me the way they did other Christians, like my poor freshman roommate – I would come back to our room to find her surrounded by a group of them, looking uncomfortable, like she was getting hit on by Jesus. Mind you, I know now that my school was a liberal bubble inside the liberal bubble that was Northern California, and that protected me from a lot of things. But while we were definitely dealing with racism and sexism on campus at the time, anti-Semitism? That just wasn’t a thing.

Neither was being a Jewish person who didn’t support Israel. I didn’t know all that much about Israel growing up. I knew that it was the Jewish state, where I had once had some relatives, and that my cousins and eventually my brother — who finished Hebrew school — went to visit because they felt like it was an important way to learn about who they were. I didn’t. But when, in college, I had my first conversation with someone who’d lived in Israel about the way that Israelis felt this constant existential threat to their existence that justified their defensive posture when it came to negotiating peace with the Palestinians, even though they clearly had vast military superiority, I didn’t necessarily agree, but I got it. I understood why Israelis felt that, in a visceral, six-million-dead-just-because-they-were-like-you way that I think most non-Jews can’t. 

That was probably as much of a surprise to me as it was to anyone: that, on some level, in spite of not looking Jewish, or being able to speak Hebrew, or knowing what Sukkot was (if it wasn’t about eating or presents, it didn’t make it into the Nagler Canon of Holidays), I actually still somehow just was Jewish. And that part of my identity might never have really sunk in if I hadn’t become a New Yorker. Moving here didn’t just mean that I discovered Zabars, or that I was a bagel snob, or that I would be able to have lox at catering pretty much every day (and occasionally take some home if it was really good), although those things did indeed happen. New York was able to absorb and assimilate Jewish culture in a way that allowed it to flourish as one distinct flavor of the whole that is this city of many flavors. New York is a Jewish city – in same way that it’s also Italian, Irish, African-American, Puerto Rican, Chinese, Russian, Indian, Dominican, Pakistani, Caribbean, Mexican, and the list goes on depending on who’s arrived recently and who’s coming next. And so, from the way I relate to food, to my sense of humor, to my analytical and intellectual side, to how forthright/tactless I can be, to my overall worldview: living here enabled me to recognize that I just wouldn’t be this way if I weren’t Jewish.

Everything feels different in 2019 in so many, surreal ways, but what exactly it means to be Jewish in America is definitely a big one. I’ve felt some vulnerability and uncertainty as a woman for most of my life, as you do, but I’ve never felt that way about being a Jew until now. To the point that I can’t call myself “a Jew” any more, because suddenly, that’s an epithet. How the hell did that happen? When did we allow them to take that word away? Then there’s the realization of, Wait, we can’t make those jokes any more because there are people who actually still think that shit about us? And they’re telling other people? Fucking internet. Add to that the fault lines within the American Jewish community over Israel and the ground really starts to feel like it’s swaying under your feet. How much we should continue to support this country that seems increasingly unrecognizable to me, that is so racked by fear and sectarianism that it appears to have given up on peace and democracy, that votes for a leader who has demonstrated time and again that he is both racist and corrupt? Well, now that I’ve put it like that, okay, maybe this is something that Israel and the United States have in common right now, but that doesn’t make it any better for those of use who are trying to stay on the sane side of it all. I’m lucky that most of my family is in agreement with me on these issues, but my mother has some cousins with whom she is close that she had to ask to stop sending her political emails, because their conservative views about Israel seemed to have somehow spread to abortion and immigration, despite that fact that they live in San Francisco. Jewish Trump supporters? From the Bay Area? What the hell is the going on?! Come on, this can’t be us. When an audience at the Republican Jewish Coalition cheers when Trump says “Our country’s full. You can’t come in,” don’t they hear the eerie echos of what the American government said to the boats full of Jews they sent back to be slaughtered in the holocaust? Don’t they know that we are supposed to be sharp, and educated, and fucking liberals? Oh, wait, is “liberal” now a bad word not just among conservatives but for some on the left too, as in the “liberal elite who control everything” that they’re always talking about? But, double wait, wasn’t that just another way anti-Semites used to say “the Jews” without saying “the Jews”? But triple wait, aren’t Bernie Sanders and Glenn Greenwald Jewish? WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!

Of course, this about when all of your older Jewish relatives shake their heads at all of this and say, “See? This is exactly the shit always happens to us. Somehow, when things go bad in the world, and people start believing crazy conspiracy shit, that always turns back on the Jews.” I never believed that before, so to see it sort of happening right before my eyes is really something. But at the same time, I’m sure as hell not going to let that make me just silo up. Yeah, there are the swastikas, and the Tree of Life synagogue shooting, and “Jews will not replace us,” but can we honestly say we have it worse than everyone else who’s under attack in this country right now? What’s the point of joining a grievance competition that just gives the people who are trying to divide the left exactly what they want? It’s how, when the new questions that confuse and divide us just keep coming — What do we say or not say about Ilhan Omar? What about the schism in the Women’s March? What about the Senate bill that would allow state and local governments to withhold contracts from those who boycott Israel that Chuck Schumer supported? — they just get us to go after each other.

Let’s not do that. Sure, maybe this is just another case of me getting older and less able to accept how the world is changing — sort of a, “Damn Nazis, get off my lawn!” type of thing – and maybe I should just go along with this new normal. But that's one thing I know is definitely not me. MoTs like to talk shit out, sometimes too much, but eh. Let’s bring that tradition of analysis and argument — and I mean the kind where you’re forthright and emotional, but you still know how to listen — to bear on the questions we’re having both on the left and in the Jewish community about how we move forward, instead of fleeing back into our fears from the past.

creepy walmart stories, true or false, are common enough but honestly? need to share some of this “what the fuck was that bullshit” because i’m thoroughly Displaced as a person right now.

after a recent promotion at work the decision was made to implement a different uniform in order to be seen and further trusted by customers. fine by me, it’ll involve some button down collared shirts of which i have a few but tbh they’re ill-fitting and i haven’t gone clothes shopping in a while (barring the boots I impulse bought...the other morning...so.) 

so the vest was handed over to me today so i’m like, okay. i know myself. I won’t be able to get up early before work to go shopping for some simple colored shirts that you’d think you’d be able to find anywhere but we’ll get to that part. the walmart in our town is. how you say--it’s not allowed to be a 24hr walmart due to too much nutso bullshit happening literally all the time in this town. at least, that is my understanding. so the only 24hr quick store I can think of, since i get off around midnight, is one that’s about 25 minutes from work, 15 from my apartment. i clock out, fill up with gas at a gas station at 11:45pm (do not recommend) and I set off. things are fine. i’m listening to phantom of the opera again and thinking about other shit. probably smut. it’s how it happens. I find the walmart fairly easily though it’s pitch black and i usually have no reason to go here, and i park away from everyone else (thank god) and head on in.

i’m no stranger to places after midnight, that shouldn’t faze me. what fazed me was after a while of wandering around the (front and center) women’s section, i found none of the types of shirts i wanted. not even close. it was all pseudo mexican embroidery or gay flannel, of which i have many, and yes i almost bought another, thank you for asking. a little perturbing, but nonetheless i start to browse, sure that i might find at least something.

now i’ve done my time in fast food, but i’ve never worked retail. i’m not sure if this is strange or not at all, but as i keep browsing--in both the women’s and the men’s section just because, just because i might find something, i notice something...off. Every store i’ve ever been to organized their shirts from S - L, XL, XXL, whatever came after large. But usually, especially for ease of browsing, you would put the smaller items first with the larger items in back.

nearly every single display rack, with every single shirt hanging from the hangers, both in th emen’s and the women’s section, were sorted from XXL/XL to S.

w...weird. but okay. could just be some fuckery going on. i’ve heard the stories, i know the worker’s strife. but still no shirts that i need. eventually, after what was probably too long in this place that was slowly sucking on something ethereal and dear to my soul, i gave up and wandered into the grocery section to grab some dinner before leaving.

except there were no boxed dinners in the boxed dinner aisle.

i don’t mean it was empty, i mean it was like the aisles were completely fucking switched. filled to the brim with macaroni, pasta, and other such things you’d expect in a boxed dinner aisle, but no boxed dinners. nothing. i frown, poke my head around, and eventually find them two aisles over. this is where i start to realize that i really don’t like this. at all. i start putting stuff in my arms, briefly wondering the folly of not picking up a basket but at this point i just want to hurriedly leave and it was too late anyways. my arms are full but manageable and i find the secluded, lonely cashier lanes.

there’s one, filled with people who have carts filled with things. it’s the only one with the light on. some other guy, with only two items, wanders around to try and find more but doesn’t. i was going to let him go first but he insists i do. the woman in front of us turns around, her mouth is, how to say politely, rotting. she says to us “this is the slowest. cashier. ever.” then starts nodding.

and nodding.

and nodding.

thank god her eye contact is locked with the man beside me and not me. he calls to the cashier, “are there any other cashiers open?”

she doesn’t respond. one of the other customers goes “yeah, the one right next to us.” we both move, and again he insists i go first. i thank him, realizing that with my short stature, cute-monster pinned hat, old high school japanese class t-shirt, and digimon wallet that i must look 18 at best to be out this late. didn’t really like that implication but i put my stuff on the conveyor belt and go to pay. the total is 19 even.

my card is new. not like Fresh new, but new enough to never have problems. the card reader wouldn’t read my card, so i ask if it’s slow or do i need to do something else. the woman cashier, one of many ESL employees that walmart hires, says something i can’t recall, then starts to fiddle with the card reader. it won’t work. nothing will read my card but she keeps valiantly trying. she turns the reader towards her.

the back of the reader is stuffed with ratty paper towels.

i offer to use another card but the offer falls on deaf ears. the man who let me go first watches this go on and i feel like it was maybe 4 solid minutes of this, though it felt like ten. he says “the magnetic strip won’t read if it’s a chip card”, and suddenly as he says this, the card reads. i pull the bags out and away and the man, suddenly impatient, steps on my foot as he comes forward. I skitter off, he bids me good night for some reason. i smile, customer service trained smile, and hurry the fuck out of there.

parking lot. thank god. no cars near mine, that’s a good sign. as i’m hiking out there i notice a sedan pull up, stop and park in the middle of the goddamn lane approaching the far entrance, and out steps a middle aged woman wearing what appears to be some sort of prom dress. my brain and heart, already shell-shocked by the goings on, went “nope” and i get in my car, slam the door shut, and lock everything. with a quick text to a friend, i pull into drive and start to go.

this same sedan almost t-bones me out of the parking lot, had i not stopped and been like oh my god oh kay. i turn to leave. sedan starts following me. fine, maybe the woman realized the pharmacy was closed or something, that was the door she was headed for.

the sedan stops in the middle of the lane again and she gets out again.

can’t really describe the level of NOPE i felt as i booked it out of there faster than a car should go in a parking lot, finding my way to the freeway thankfully easily. on the fifteen minute drive back to apartment i sat deadened, my chest hurting a little from the what the fuck was that as phantom of the opera continues to play, though i’m not sure which songs because at that point i was completely oblivious.

so now im home, i’m about to cook one of the dinners i managed to find and buy, and. i guess i uh. will shop online for now.

Okay, so recently it has been brought to my attention that some people get confused with the characters and OC’s in pushing each other to the limits, since there are so many of them. I wasn’t aware of this being an issue, nevertheless I’m glad anon pointed it out, this way I can create a character log and keep y’all updated with the new arrivals and so on!

I’ll start listing under the cut. ^w^

First off,  Ryōmen Utsukushi-sa. She is the first OC to appear and does so halfway through chapter one. She has pastel pink eyes, white and pink hair that resembles that of a fairy, hollow bones and a pair of big feather-covered wings that, when fully developed, will grant her the ability to fly. She has a sweet tooth and publicly humiliated Midoriya because Katsuki shoved Nakisakebu, a friend of hers. Her name means two-sided beauty, referring to her backstabbing yet charming personality. She has yet to come back.

Nakisakebu makes a brief appearance as well, although she isn’t that important. She gets shoved by Bakugou at lunch and then plots a way to get back at him by humiliating Izuku. Her name means weep.

On that same chapter, Shinrai Dekinai makes an appearance. He looks pretty much like a human bumblebee, with clear wings, dark, wide eyes and a pair of antennas on top of his head. He is quite fluent in English and turned his back on Izuku upon learning that the latter was quirkless as he doesn’t appreciate people lying or hiding this from him. His name is supposed to mean something along the lines of “this can’t go well.” Foreshadowing? Maybe.

Chapter two greets us with the presence of Kiru Tsume, better known as Shitty Tygra Knockoff. He doesn’t really stand out, just a common boy with the appearance of a tiger and sliced pupils. His quirk makes him part Tiger and allows him several feline-like abilities. His name is just a word play on the word “kitsune” which means fox in Japanese.

Matsuoka Akiko makes her first appearance on that same chapter. She is a young woman with pale skin, grey eyes and long ebony black hair, often referred to as a yokai because of her scary appearance. She co-owns La Parroquia de Veracruz and is a happy woman with a bubbly personality. Her name means bright, in reference to her happy personality. Her quirk, Whim, allows her to know what people want/need and tell them apart. As a child she was bullied and holds grim memories of her teenage years and school, reason why she decided to drop out of uni, quit out of her job as a waitress and help her internet best friend start his business.

Mateo Flores is a mexican boy with pastel pink skin and slightly darker pink hair. His eyes are a deep violet and he has a pair of flashy fangs that can rarely be seen since he is shy and doesn’t tend to smile as much as Akiko. He is the original owner of La Parroquia de Veracruz and his quirk, Flavour, grants him the ability to make literally anything taste like glory. His name means decisive. He settled down in Japan just after graduating high school and opened a café, hiring his ibf Akiko as a waitress and also business partner.

Takane Hikari worked as a receptionist the first time she appeared in the story, back in chapter two. She currently works as an intern for a big Support Company and resides in Hosu. Her hair is cyan, short, curly and her eyes are an icy blue. Her quirk, Splatter, although quite useless makes up for a good party trick as she can eject paint from her body. Her name means light.

Kirishima Iwao is a buff, tall man with dark skin and even darker hair. His eyes are a light shade of blue and his quirk, Rock, gives him a thick skin. However, can unharden his skin and make himself soft for a couple of minutes. He works as a trainer in a local gym. Because I’m an uncreative little shit his name literally means rock.

Kirishima Mio is a petite woman with dark hair and sharp, shark-like teeth. She has scarlet red eyes and works as a detective in a nearby precinct. Her name can either be interpreted as beautiful or saint. 

Now let’s skip to chapter three. The first to make an appearance here is Bakugou Tsuki. She has white short hair and red eyes that match with a beautiful tanned skin. Her quirk, Ember, lets her set random things on fire and then manipulate the embers. She loves to tease her grandsons and is a single mother. Her name means to thrust.

Yasu Nagisa is Inko’s mother. She is a kind yet untrusting, strict woman with green hair, orange eyes and teal skin. Her quirk, Levitate, allows her to make things fly with a simple glance. Her name means shore.

Yasu Ryuu is Inko’s father. He has blonde curls, blue eyes, and prominent freckles. Unlike his wife, he is a happy-go-lucky kinda guy with a quirk deemed best suited for villany by most people. Appearing allows him to have any object appear on his hands by just knowing what it looks like and its location. His name means dragon.

Chapter four presents us a brand new set of OC’s. First off, there’s Hazuki Kisumi, a boy with dark hair, blue skin and navy blue eyes. He has gills on either side of his neck and fins on both his calves and forearms. His name means mist, like the vague mist that can be seen on the shores at sunrise. His quirk, Introduction, allows him to know how a person would like to be approached. He is quite shy and has a slippery tongue.

Then we have Yamazaki Hiroko, a woman that looks like a triceratops all the way from head to toe. She has broad shoulders and three horns atop her head. Her skin is dark and covered in golden scales, along with her muscled tail. She has dark cocoa hair and partially heterochromatic eyes that go from amber yellow to emerald green, although her prettiest feature are her pair of glassy red lips. She has a flirty personality and likes to joke around. Her name means tolerant and her quirk, Mixing, allows her to mix about anything and everything and make it right. Is she a bartender? Mad scientist? Only time will tell.

Shiozaki Fuji is a short woman with vines for hair and a characteristic stoic face expression. She works as a receptionist in NIK and her quirk grows flowers from her hair. Her name means mountain and she is related to Shiozaki Ibara, student from class 1-B.

Daichi Yuu is an old man with a quirk that allows him to literally blend in with his surroundings. He is the principal at NIK, a responsible adult with a successful career in quirk analysis and quite a lively character. His name means intellect. 

From there we skip all the way over to chapter six, where Ai Chiasa makes her first appearance. She is Shouto’s personal chauffeur and her quirk, Teletransporting, is self-explanatory. She has purple skin and peach coloured hair that match with a calm personality. She enjoys pop culture way too much and loves the Todoroki like if they were her own children. Her name means a thousand mornings.

From the recommended exam we have Fudo Daiki, local pervert and wielder of Nightcrawling, a quirk that allows him to use dark areas to teletransport from one place to another. He has neon bright hair and a sly smile and his name means brightness, a contrast to how his quirk works. We also have Shinju Nyoko whose name means gem treasure. She is a bubbly girl with dark skin and an afro. Her quirk, Space, allows her to bend constellations, stars and such at will.

Last but not least, chapter seven brings what I believe to be the last OC’s from this batch. For starters we have Nakamura Harumi, whose name means springtime beauty. She has medium-short, long cocoa hair that match with a pair of brown eyes and grey skin. She is smart yet shy, has a weird liking for the sun and is very trusting of others. Her quirk, Host, makes her the best at organizing events and such.

Then we get introduced to Interi Hiro, a boy with white hair and pastel purple eyes. He is related to Interi Saiko, a girl from the anime-only filler Provisional License Exam episode in season three. He is a carefree guy, although he can be a little bit bitchy when out of soda since that means he can’t use his quirk, I. Q., properly. His name means abundant.

Ryoko Seina is a girl with dark skin, orange hair and bright red eyes. She is a nice person, although prone to get anxious easily. Her quirk, Moonlight, makes her extra productive at night time and she can also expand her limbs thanks to her father’s genes. Her name means innocent and she is a sweet person.

Natalya Ivanova is an elder Russian lady and the homeroom teacher for Class 101 in NIK. She is a strict teacher and likes to make fun of her students, all in good-hearted nature.

Ito Miya is the second highest ranked student in NIK. She has purple skin, pastel pink hair that’s shaved in one side and curly on the other, a scar along her right cheek, freckles and a pair of brown eyes that get hidden underneath black frames that she doesn’t really need. She has three piercings on her left ear to match Kaoru’s and a pair of demonic purple wings that flutter each time she gets excited. Her quirk, Spotlight, allows her switch the attention from herself at will. Her name means wings.

Finally, we have Watanabe Kaoru. He has tanned skin and ash brown hair along with a cute lil’ mole on the upper right part of his lips. His eyes are a vibrant green deep enough to rival Izuku’s and he has a set of three piercings on his right ear. He needs glasses and so he wears a pair of thick-rimmed frames at all times, his name means fragrance. His quirk, Handsome, allows him to morph into what people find physically appealing as long as he meets the requirements (i. e. he can’t grow boobs to appeal people who are into that). He also has a driver’s license and is a long-time friend of Miya. 

And I think that’s it! Here you can find a couple of visuals I created, just in case things are a bit unclear. You can also message me and I’ll answer your doubts to the best of my ability! <3

Stone Cold | october.

university au + platonic + romantic + angst, teamiplier + jack

sequel to: Story of Another Us | also on ao3 | previous chapter

Bella’s song choice: Crybaby by Melanie Martinez

“Why is it so hard to find something decent?” exclaimed my friend, Aria Mercer. Well, I wouldn’t exactly call her a ‘friend.’ More like, ‘I know you well enough to go dress shopping with you, but not enough to tell you my deepest secret.’

We had been going to different clothing stores for a majority of the afternoon. Typically, I couldn’t stay out too long due to sensory overload and panic attacks, but I figured I could pop a Xanax I had secretly stashed away a few months prior. I didn’t like having to take medication on a constant basis, only when I really needed it.

Aria and I were both going to homecoming, and we were lacking in the fancy dress department. One thing we had in common besides the facts that we were both Mexican and from the same home town, was that we were terrible at shopping for clothes. Usually, our other friend (or ‘former classmate’ for me), Sophie Jensen, would accompany us to things like this, but she sat this one out. I knew exactly why, and I didn’t really miss her.

“I know,” I replied, mindlessly shifting through the racks. “I hate too many patterns. Too many sequins, too many colors! Where’s all the black?”

“Ah, you feel me,” Aria said. “I just need a little black dress and I’m good to go.”

“Ooh, speaking of…” I spotted an ashy black-grey color in the rack and grabbed it. I pulled out a black halter top dress with a simple rhinestone pattern at the waist. “¿Que opinas?”

Aria’s eyes looked up and down at the article of clothing. “If you don’t get that dress, I will.”

I smiled and then went to try it on. I had managed to talk Jack into an all black attire. It was the only color I was comfortable in (apart from my hair; black and faded pink ombre) and he felt like it would hint at what was going on on his channel.

The dress went down to my knees, and the skirt was nice and flowy when I twirled. It had enough neck space to where I could pair it with a choker. I definitely wasn’t going to find a better dress solely because I was stubborn and I wanted to get home as soon as possible.

Once I got out of the dressing room, I found Aria coming out of one of the stalls. She was wearing a short, tight, black dress with long lace sleeves. Now, I actually had to stop and stare for a second because damn.

“What do you think?” she asked, practically calling me out on my gaping.

“I-It’s nice,” I said in what I thought was a casual way. “It’ll knock ‘em dead.”

“Really?” Her eyes lit up, but she quickly went timid. “I mean… I lowkey want to grab someone’s attention. Kinda wanna tease them, y’know?”

My heart started to race. Oh god, where was this going?

“C-Can I ask who?” It came out before I could control it.

“Just my ex,” Aria said, sighing. “It’s kinda stupid because like, it’s been like almost a year since we broke up and I also haven’t seen him in months.”

I was mostly relieved, but slightly disappointed.

“Well… have you talked to him lately?” This felt a little personal all of a sudden. I didn’t realize I was on this level with Aria. Then again, I did check her out without even thinking about it.

“No, that’s why it seems dumb,” she explained. “And he’s only going to be here for the weekend, anyway.” Her shoulders slumped as she went back into the stall.

“Pues… compralo de todos modos,” I told her. “Se te mira bien. Do it for yourself. If your ex notices, then good. If he doesn’t, then you’ll still look good, and he’ll be missing out!” And honestly, if I was tipsy and confident at homecoming, I would probably end up being the one taking her home.

She came out of the stall in her regular clothes, dress in hand, and a smile on her face. “You’re right. I’m gonna do it.”

~

When I was back home, looking at my dress option, I wondered. If Aria was trying to capture her ex’s attention, could I do the same? Could I try to grab Mark’s attention? Show him how hot I am and how I’m not his anymore.

I nearly laughed at that thought. Me, Bella Santiago, trying to grab attention? Even worse, trying to get attention from the person who didn’t love me anymore? How unrealistic could I be?

This really was high school. I hated it. Even as an adult, you could still get hung up over your ex and still pine after them. However, if you’re like me, you’ll go through extreme lengths to avoid your ex. Dropping out of YTU was one of those lengths. Taking a hiatus from social media was another. Avoiding homecoming at all costs would be another length, but I made a promise to Jack.

Needless to say, this was going to be difficult. I had to map out the YTU courtyard and plot out escape routes in case I was too close to Mark. I had to find out what kind of drinks would be served so I could forget the crowds of people surrounding me. I had to know who was going to be there so I could figure out who to avoid. It was irrational and insane, but I had to plan everything out.

I had to tell all of this to Jack so he could help me rationalize it, but the month was hectic for him. He was making videos left and right, focusing on the “Antisepticeye” hype. He had much to do with Robin over Skype, which meant that he was spending nights on campus. That also meant he wasn’t here to make sure I ate or slept or actually lived.

I was okay with it. I was okay with eating half a granola bar for breakfast and the other half for dinner. I was practically used to sleeping less than three hours a night, only to sleep through the rest of the following day after taking Jack to school. I didn’t want to bother him with my personal problems, especially while he was so busy. Don’t get me wrong, I liked having him here and it felt good to have a roommate again, I just couldn’t burden him.

In the meantime, I was pacing around my apartment. I had my sad playlist on blast, but I wasn’t crying or lying on the floor. I kept singing and pacing, and then when that wasn’t enough, I went to my keyboard. I attempted to play Stone Cold but 1) I hadn’t played it since I filmed it for my channel and 2) the lyrics were too damn real for me to sing out loud. “I was your amber but now she’s your shade of gold.” Ouch.

Before I knew it, I was walking to the bathroom. Not my en suite bathroom, but Jack’s. I stood at the doorway and stared at the floor. My fingers ran over my sweater sleeve, then over my upper thighs. As I remembered what happened here three months prior, I was almost relieved that the scars weren’t on obvious places, apart from the ones on my wrists. It was easier to hide this from Jack. I didn’t have the heart to tell him what I had done.

I stepped inside and sat down on the floor, bringing my knees to my chest. My breathing was strangely steady, given that I was sitting on what could have been my deathbed.

Who would have been the one to find me, had my neighbor not heard me fall and then call 911? Would it have been that neighbor? Would it have been Mark when he had returned the key to my apartment? How would my audience have found out? Would there have been a funeral? No one would have shown up, except maybe Jack.

I couldn’t leave him. Sure, Jack had plenty of other friends, but I felt guilty having to leave him. I couldn’t tell him that I tried to kill myself. Mark hadn’t told him either, which I was semi-thankful for. What would Jack say if he knew?

He’s the only person who was still in my life. That was both sad and comforting. He was my friend, but how long would it be before he grew tired of me? There had to be a point where he couldn’t handle my depressed ass anymore. Surely he was only my friend because I didn’t have any other person in my life.

The only way I knew how to distract myself from these thoughts was through makeup. Better yet, I went back to my room and set up my camera and lights. Then I grabbed various makeup products from my bathroom. It was October, so what was the only seasonally appropriate thing to film?

“Hey it’s Bella. Today, I’m going to try to do some sort of Halloween makeup,” I explained. “Um, I’m not sure what the fuck I’m gonna do… Maybe something simple like… Harley Quinn.” As soon as I said it, that’s what I wanted to do. “Yeah, that’ll work. Let’s do it!”

Since I hadn’t prepared ahead of time, I improvised with face makeup. Normally I would put a lot of thought into every product prior to filming, but I was trying to create a distraction for myself, and my mind was too foggy to think about anything else.

I used a light concealer in the place of foundation, I didn’t really bother with contouring or highlight. I used glitter shadows for my eyes, which made red and blue glitter fly all over the place.

“Go nuts with Halloween looks, guys,” I said as I dragged the colors past my eyes. “I’m using glittery eye shadow because I’m a slut for glitter. Put your own spin on things. That’s the beauty of makeup.”

At one point I was just getting messy. It was almost obvious that I was being reluctant. Therefore, I felt the need to explain myself.

“I know it seems like I’m jumping the bandwagon,” I said, “but to be honest, I’m not feeling one hundred percent today. I mean, I probably haven’t felt one hundred percent in a while. There’s various reasons behind it… it’s just one of those moods, y’know? Anyway, today was particularly shitty, and this was the first thing that came to me to distract myself. I just sat down and filmed without even thinking about it. Like, I know when I watch this back, I’m gonna think of better alternatives to the products I’m using and things I could have said better, but… Oh well.”

One thing I was somewhat known for was ranting while doing my makeup. I’ve talked about LGBT+ rights, bisexual pride, and plenty of other things while maintaining a sharp wing. For some reason, it was very shocking to the Internet (and by that I mean, mostly men) that I, a makeup artist, was so educated on things going on in the world. I suppose that was because plenty of beauty gurus didn’t speak of things like that on their channels, and most people expected a review/demo of the latest beauty products instead of a lecture on why stereotypes are absolutely terrible.

“You know what,” I said in thought, “let’s talk about that. Let’s talk about those moods. For me personally, it feels more like a mindset than a mood at the moment. I don’t know. I don’t want anyone to worry though - I’m still seeing my therapist, and my friend Jack moved in with me for the semester. I’m not alone, and this is probably just a bad day or something. I’ve been told that talking it out would be helpful, so I’m just telling you guys that I don’t-slash-didn’t feel like being a person today.”

I sighed and put down my blush. Then I grabbed my dipbrow and angled brush and began to fill in my eyebrows.

“Like, I wish I had advice to give,” I continued. “I feel like I’m stuck… Um, okay, I guess talking it out is good. Yes, yeah, that’s a good idea. Anything you got on your chest, let it out in the comments. There’s always gonna be someone there to talk to you. Whatever we’ve got going on in our lives, we’ll get through it together.”

I finished off the look with a bright red liquid lipstick that I then smudged with the back of my hand. Then I put my long hair in two high ponytails, and that’s when I noticed how much my roots were showing.

“Could’ve done a wig,” I said, tightening the tails. “But my hair has some color in it already. And I made this video completely unprepared. And, yes I’m aware I need to dye my hair again. Oh well.”

~

After posting that tutorial, I was practically spammed with ideas for more costumes and well wishes from my followers. I even got some Twitter DM’s from other vloggers, which was shocking to say the least. Why me?

“Hey! Wishing you all the best! You’re a strong person, and you’re loved by many!” -Pamela Horton

“Hiiii, just letting you know I saw your Harley Quinn tutorial and that I think you’re so brave and strong for sharing your emotions and your story with everyone! I’d love to sit down and chat someday!” -Suzy Berhow

“Hey, I deal with anxiety a lot too, I know where you’re coming from! I think you’re really amazing and strong, and I’d love to talk or even collab with you one day!” -Kathleen Fuentes

And even more from other people I secretly looked up to. It was funny that a few months prior, I published a video talking about my coming out process and my anxiety disorder, but my impromptu Harley Quinn tutorial is the one that got a lot of attention. I didn’t really know how to feel about it.

Besides that, I felt inspired and distracted by the amount of Halloween requests. I got superheroes, video game characters, and classic costumes. There was only one, however, that stuck with me, and it was a partner costume. I wanted to do this right, so I had to make several online orders, all rushed delivery. I also had to make emergency trips to Sephora and Ulta, but in the end, we had everything together.

“Hey, it’s Bella!” I greeted to my camera. “Today, I have my friend Jack here, and we’re going to turn into the brother and sister from Melanie Martinez’s ‘Dollhouse’ music video! We’ll be going over hair, makeup, and costumes. And, uh, I’ll link where we got everything in the description.”

“We,” Jack repeated, sounding amused.

I rolled my eyes and smiled. “Where I got everything. Anyway, let’s get started!”

“I’m excited,” Jack said as I gathered the first few items.

“I’m gonna take off your eyebrows.”

“Oh…”

I looked at him, amused by his reaction. I was already feeling confident about this video.

Using a gluestick, some foundation, and some powder, I managed to cover up a majority of Jack’s eyebrows. He was amazed at the result, and he also laughed at how funny he looked in the viewfinder.

“Oh wait,” I said in realization. “You have a beard! You’re supposed to look like a porcelain doll!”

“I can be a doll with a beard!” he argued.

We shared a look for a few seconds before I rolled my eyes and continued with my work. I applied a very pale, full coverage foundation to make it look smooth and flawless. Then I drew on his new eyebrows with a pencil, much thinner and more doll-like. That alone made Jack look like a completely different person.

“Who even are you?” I wondered. “What have I done?”

“So this is what I look like with normal eyebrows,” Jack said.

I continued on with his face, contouring his face and applying blush. It was coming together nicely.

“Have you ever listened to Melanie Martinez?” I asked him after a while.

“Yeah, you showed my ‘Crybaby,’” he replied. “The whole album, not just the song.”

“Which song is your favorite?”

“Hmm…” Jack went silent for a second before singing out, “It’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to!”

“Oh my god, same! That song is my life! So is ‘Crybaby!’ And ‘Dollhouse!’ And ‘Sippy Cup!’”

“The whole album is your life.”

I finished up with his face, and then things got a little difficult. See, Jack has sensitive eyes, and he wasn’t used to the pains of makeup. It took a good ten minutes to apply white eyeliner to his waterline. Adding false lashes was even harder because he kept blinking and squeezing his eyes shut. After getting them properly glued on, I styled his hair. A side part and some gel put the whole look together.

“Okay, so wait until I’m done with my makeup, and then we’ll put on the costumes,” I told him once I was finished.

My look was a bit more complicated. It was a cut crease eye look with a whole lot of glitter. I had to draw my lips a certain way, and add freckles to my face. Then I had to put my hair into tight curls and add a ridiculously large white bow on top.

The costumes were the icing on the cake. For Jack, he had a white button up, black suspenders, a black bowtie, and black dress pants and shoes. I wore a pink sailor dress, knee high socks, and black and white oxford shoes.

Then I set up the camera and lights facing a wall in the living room so I could get full body shots. Jack stood against the wall, hands in his pockets.

“Keep your face blank,” I told him. “Channel your inner angsty teen.”

He pretty much scowled. I made the same face when it came to my solo shots. Then we stood next to each other, hoping that we looked cute, but creepy.

“We look so fucking cool,” Jack said after a while. “I can’t believe you knew how to do all this. Actually, I can, ‘cause you’re Bella.”

I chuckled, but I did appreciate his words. I couldn’t ever leave him.

_______

next chapter

June 4th, 2017 - Heidelberg, Germany Elisa and I both slept well tonight. We didn't have anything specific on the agenda today other than making sure we got into Heidelberg by around 12:00 noon so we could meet with one of Elisa's long lost High School friends - Terri Rooney and her husband Gary Fowler. Elisa and Terri had lost touch with one another in about 1979 or 1980. Both she and Terri were moving to different locations and they simply fell out of touch. When we began planning on our trip to Europe, for some reason her friend Terri popped into her head and although she had searched for her many times on the internet, Facebook, etc. all her searches came up empty. This is largely due to the facts that Rooney is such a common name and all of her searches would be overwhelming. Nevertheless, something was urging her to do another search. This time she searched while adding another piece of information that she remembered about Terri and that is that she was in the Navy at one point in her life. This time the search produced some new results - Elisa was led to a webpage on Bank of America's website. The page was celebrating its employees who were U.S. Military Veterans. Lo and behold, up pops a faded photo of her friend Terri, from when she was in the Navy. The page indicated that Terri was now a Sr. Vice President with BofA and working in......wait for it.....Germany of all places. It is so strange, that Elisa got the premonition to do another search prior to our taking a vacation to Italy and Germany. (Cue eerie music). How wierd. So now we at least knew that in 2014, when the webpage was created her friend Terri was working for BofA in Germany, managing banking operations for US military bases. Now the problem was to figure out how to get connected. It just so happens that our daughter Krista's fiancé's mother Connie also works for BofA. So Elisa gets in touch with her, and Connie explains that there are strict rules at BofA that prohibit her from distributing personal information about other employees - totally understandable. However, Connie is able to use the information to find a LinkedIn page for Terri. Bingo, Elisa is able to use that to message Terri. Our only concern is that if Terri is like us, we don't look at our Linkedin messages that often. We are in luck and within a week or two, Terri responds and the two are reconnected - after some 37 years. The two catch up via email on each other's life story and plans are made to meet when we are near the Frankfurt area. How exciting. So, today is that day, when the two will finally see one another again and Elisa is filled with anticipation. We get up around 6:30 am, we take our time getting ready and eating some breakfast. I'm busy reading the news and at 8:30 she says let's get going. We aren't scheduled to meet with Terri and Gary until 12:00 in Heidelberg. So, we decide that we will go early so we can visit the Heidelberg castle before we get together with them at noon. We leave the house by a little before 9:00 and we are headed up the hill to find parking near the castle by around 10:00. Most people park down in the Altstadt and take the funicular train up the hill to the castle. We opted to search for parking up near the castle entrance since it is near opening time. We are in luck, we find a great parking space (thank you Minerva) right near the entrance - and it is a free parking spot. The castle sits about 300' above the city of Heidelberg, and as we make our way into the grounds we are taking photos along the way. We pay for our admission and pick up an audio guided tour of the grounds. The castle is really amazing. They are largely in ruins, but great efforts have been made starting back in the late 1700's to preserve the ruins as opposed to reconstructing them. Some items, such as some of the statuary are remade to create an accurate historical record of the castle. Construction of the castle was commenced around around the late 1100's. It was periodically destroyed by fire and war but rebuilt. By the 1600's the then Kings made very elaborate additions to the castle. However by the early 1700's the castle would again be destroyed by the French who had taken it in the "Nine Days War". Which came after the Thirty Years War. I'm going to have to study up on the history...all these wars seem to have to do with the feudal system that emerged in Germany where you had a bunch of rich guys holding rule over people in an area and a political struggle that emerged between the Holy Roman Empire and the Palatine rulers - oh and then throw in hostilities from neighboring countries from time to time. Anyhow, this time the French really did a number on the castle, they exploded the powder magazine which blew one of the huge stone towers completely in half. They then set a number of fires. There are stories though that suggest that one of the French general that was leaving told the villiage towns people to light fires so the smoke from their fireplaces would make it appear that the castle fires were larger then they really were. Supposedly, the General wanted to leave enough to the beautiful and might castle behind for the sake of history. This time, the castle would never be rebuilt, however by the later 1700's efforts were made to preserve the ruins and it would become a visiting ground for philosophers and writers of the day - including Johan Von Goethe the famous German statesman and writer/philosopher. Our tour of the castle was really interesting. We got to see the mighty giant wine barrel. One was original and it was the "tithe barrel", where growers and wine makers that served the lord of the castle would have to bring 1/10th of their harvest to be turned into wine and poured into the great barrel. This thing is huge and lore indicates that it was only filled 3 times in its existence - by the way the wine wasn't very good. In the 1800's an even larger barrel was built to celebrate the church. That barrel was never filled with wine - its a good thing because it is the size of a small house. There was also a "traveling exhibit" at the castle that detailed the history of the "Apoteke" or pharmacy. This too was very interesting. It provided educational details on the history of medicine making. There were recipes using different types of plants to cure various maladies that date back to 120BC. The ancient Greeks began accumulating these recipes from faraway lands in Africa and Arabia. The Romans would enslave Greeks to be the modern day equivalent of doctors for the Roman Empire. Marcus Aurelius would endeavor to create the first collective library of medicin making and the collection of the plants and other natural materials that would go not these locations. The science would continue - there would be setback in the early ages - when religious fervor would look down on man made cures. However, by the 1500's the pharmaceutical business was back in business. The museum included private collections of entire "drug stores" of different time periods starting in about the 1500's. It was very interesting and a real highlight. Based on my web research, this exhibit has been here for some time. By the time we were done, we notice it is going on 11:30 and we needed to find our way down the hill to get to the restaurant where we would be meeting Terri and Gary. Unfortunately, our internet connection is down on our phone and we can't get the map coordinates for GPS plugged in. After heading blindly down the hill we make several wrong turns but finally we have a good enough connection to get the GPS working again - and none too soon because we were already attracting a toot of a couple of horns based on my meandering the streets of Heidelberg. We make our way over the Rhein River and find the meeting point, but there is no parking. We find a spot a few blocks away (thank you Minerva) and we head over there. The two spot one another while we are still about 100 yards away. We all rush together and hugs are exchanges and tears are falling - the two are so happy. Gary and I shake hands and get to know one another as well. The plan is for us to take a short hike on the Philosophers Way in Heidelberg. This paved walking trail was a favorite hangout for the famous philosophers and writers of the day - back in the 1800's. We can understand why, after you make the steep up-hill hike, the views are wonderful. At the summit we have a commanding view of the Rhein River, "Old" Heidelberg, the cathedral and of course the castle. It really is breathtaking. The forecast included rain, and it was cool and rainy when we left the house, but by the time we are making our way up the hill the clouds parted - a little bit - and the rain stopped. (Thank you Minerva). This is the Germany I remember from when I lived here - the days of blue skies and warm weather were far and few between. The hike is about 2-1/2 miles and it take us up a steep hill for about 3/4 of a mile, the next 3/4 of a mile is a flat to gentle uphill slope and next 1/4 mile is pretty steep downhill and the last 3/4 is flat and takes you along the riverside and leads us back to our restaurant - River Cafe. By now, it is around 1:45 and we are ready for lunch. Gary and Terri had held their annual Cinco-de-Mayo party the night before - it was delayed due to Gary being back in the States in May. Their German neighbors love and look forward to it every year. Apparently the Germans love Mexican food. Who would of thunk it. So, we are glad that they could make the trip down to Heidelberg to meet us. The restaurant is small and cozy and has a menu that leans a little Italian and little French. Elisa decides to go light and orders a shrimp and avocado salad - (we have been missing avocados). Terri and Gary also get a salad - Gary has Caesar with Chicken and Terri one with goat cheese. I opt for some sautéed veal steams with fingerling potatoes wrapped in crispy bacon. I have to say that the Germans do potatos very well, there potatos have a unique, almost sweet tast to them. I also order some grilled vegetables for Elisa and I to share. I wash mine down with a great .5 liter of blond pilsner beer - delicious. The food is great and we all enjoy it. We dine at a leisurely pace, and the restaurant does not mind. After eating we stay another couple hours catching up and filling each other in on our lives, kids, likes, dislikes, etc. Before you know it, it is going on 5:30 - talk about a leisurely lunch. We loved it and had a great time. Before parting, Terri and Gary give us a great suggestion to catch one of the Rhein River boats in Mainz and to make our way slowly up the Rhein to Koblenz. We can hop on and off the boats that run regularly up the river. We'll spend about 5 hours doing that tomorrow and hopefully make our way to a castle here and there along the way up. Then we will stop by Terri and Gary's place on the way back from Mainz and have dinner and some Karaoke at their place. It turns out they met each other and fell in love singing karaoke 25 years ago. Elisa's eyes light up - she has found kindered spirits because she too loves karaoke. Unfortunately, my talents in this area are non-existent but I make a great and enthusiastic audience. I'm looking forward to it as well. So that is all for today. our step count was at about 12000 steps or 6 miles. Not a bad day. Aufwiedersehen for now!

Ben Carson and the Fate of Soul Food

Ben Carson and the Fate of Soul Food

70. Dr. Ben Carson, a brilliant pediatric neurosurgeon, is now the Secretary of Housing and Urban Development (HUD), because he’s….Well, I suspect the internal discussion went something like this: The U in HUD stands for “urban,” and, as Paul Ryan showed us, “urban” is a code word for “black.” So, let’s make Ben the head of HUD. A match made in Heaven or wherever, quod erat demonstrandum.

(By the way, this post will be about food. I promise.)

Anyway, back on March 6, 2017, his first day in office, Dr. Carson spoke to his HUD employees, declaring: “That’s what America is about, a land of dreams and opportunity. There were other immigrants who came here in the bottom of slave ships, worked even longer, even harder for less. But they too had a dream that one day their sons, daughters, grandsons, granddaughters, great grandsons, great granddaughters might pursue prosperity and happiness in this land.”

Let’s just say that the world of social media noticed. The Food Network’s Sunny Anderson had one of the more restrained reactions:

Carson’s statement did seem odd. When we think of “immigrants” coming to America, we probably don’t picture it like this:

Later in the day, on his first attempt to talk his way out of it, Dr. Carson appealed to a linguistic technicality: An immigrant might be defined as an individual member of a migration. Some migrations are voluntary, and some are not. (Ask the Cherokee people about the “not” version.) And so, it was as he first said: The enslaved were “involuntary” immigrants.

Well, ok. Some still objected. Jelani Cobb noted that calling an enslaved person an “immigrant” is like calling a kidnapping victim a “house guest.” At the time, slaveholders insisted that they were merely importing farm equipment, like a farmer today might import a Volvo tractor. The enslaved were considered property, not tourists. (Except when it came to seats in Congress. Then the slaveholders wanted their “property” to count the same as them. That’s where the infamous 3/5ths rule came in as a compromise.)

But even if we’re charitable and grant Dr. Ben that technical definition, it still wouldn’t explain his characterization that the enslaved had “worked even longer, even harder for less” in order to win the American Dream for their descendants.

On the face of it, it sounds like a backhanded argument against raising the minimum wage. Can’t make it on $7.25/hr? Stop whining, and work 16 hours instead of 8.

If that’s your politics, fine. But don’t compare it to life under enslavement. If we say they were working “for less” instead of “for free,” then we’re assuming that the enslaved at least got “paid” in free room and board, so it was ok. I mean, a hovel and a cup of cornmeal is worth something, right? There’s no free lunch.

And the rest of your “compensation”? Whippings were thrown in for free. Character-builders, I guess. Maybe Frederick Douglass wouldn’t have gotten up the gumption to escape and become an abolitionist hero if he hadn’t been beaten up so much.

Fact fact (not an “alternative fact”): Many of the enslaved who escaped made their way to Canada. What do we make of that? Carson said the African immigrants dreamed that their descendants “might pursue prosperity and happiness in this land.” But for many, “this land” was Canada, not America. So were they just un-American ingrates who didn’t realize how good they had it here? (See painting above….)

And while we’re at it, the enslaved weren’t quite allowed to have dreams for their descendants, because those descendants automatically inherited their enslaved status, simply by being born. They were, legally, the property of another person from birth. The tragic reality was something more like this newspaper clipping found by Michelle Munyikwa:

Before the day was over, the good Doctor was in full retreat. Carson insisted that he knows the difference between slavery and immigration. But that’s not so obvious. As Tera Hunter pointed out, this wasn’t the first time that Carson has waded into this swamp. He has compared Obamacare to slavery. He has compared reproductive freedom to slavery.

2014: One of the good ones had the guts to speak up

That rhetoric plays well on the right. Some insist on minimizing the horribleness of American enslavement, like Bill O’Reilly’s ridiculous comments last summer about “well-fed slaves.” We just don’t expect to hear it from a guy with ancestors who were, we assume, enslaved.

Bill O’Reilly, between lawsuits, pronounced slavery not so bad

But let’s turn the clock ahead to the early 20th century. Now, talk of “immigrants” (or more accurately, “migrants”) dreaming of a better life might be more plausible. We’re referring to the period known as “The Great Migration,” lasting from World War I into the 1960s, when millions of African Americans managed to leave the southern states for the north and west.

In this case, we certainly have the element of free choice. Indeed, as Carol Anderson summarizes in the second chapter of her book, White Rage, the southern white power structure used every tool at its disposal, short of starting another Civil War, to prevent African Americans from leaving. By that measure, it was the opposite of a forced migration.

We also have the motives that traditionally lured Europeans to America. Some went northward in search of better economic opportunities than were available in the segregated economy of the south. Others were running for their lives, seeking to dodge the renewed outbreak of lynchings and violence encouraged during the Woodrow Wilson administration.

In this sense, one might compare the experience of African American migrants in the north to the experience of foreign immigrant groups across our history, from the Germans, Irish, Scandinavians, Chinese, Italians, Mexicans, Koreans, and Vietnamese, to the Somalians, Ethiopians, and other more recent arrivals.

Food. Talk about Food…

For many reasons, migrants often seek out the food they ate back home. Opening small operations, such as cafes, food stands, pushcarts, and catering businesses has been a first step available for many minority groups in the face of racism, bigotry, and restriction.

Then, two things happen. First, the original “ethnic” dishes begin to take on the flavor of their surroundings. That was certainly the case for African American migrants. Some of the ingredients that were common and cheap down south were either unavailable in the north or their seasonality was more restricted. Much of today’s debate over yellow cornbread vs. white cornbread, for example, stems from the simple reality that up north, yellow cornmeal is what’s more likely to be on the grocery shelves. Northern wheat flour is different too.

We see this in the various menus of the Sweet Home Cafe at the Smithsonian’s new National Museum of African American History and Culture. What we probably think of as “soul food” is well-represented by the “Agricultural South” menu, with items like fried chicken, collard greens, mac and cheese, Hoppin’ John, and so on. The “Creole Coast” menu, representing the Low Country and Louisiana traditions, still sounds like soul food, with items like fried catfish (as a Po’Boy sandwich), and candied yams.

But as we move into the “North States” and “Western Range” menus, we run into items that don’t sound like “soul food” at all, like smoked Haddock, Yankee Baked Beans, “Son of a gun” Stew (with beef short ribs), and BBQ Buffalo brisket.

Sweet Home Cafe: soul food surrounded by history (NMAAHC photo)

These menus remind us that “soul food” is more than a particular list of dishes or ingredients. As a general rule, “soul food” dishes are characterized by close attention to seasoning, no matter what the dish is. There’s also that more esoteric quality of putting “love” or “soul” into the cooking. That’s impossible to pin down scientifically, but we know whether it’s there or not.

Both distinctions are important. Sometimes, we make “soul food” shorthand for “what black people eat.” By that measure, a Big Mac is soul food. In some areas, food redlining, like housing redlining, has helped create or reinforce segregated neighborhoods where people without sufficient money, transportation, or free time often end up going to the ubiquitous fast food places to grab cheap items made from government-subsidized ingredients. A Big Mac may not be a nutritionist’s dream food, but it is an economical way to get a lot of calories in a hurry.

No offense to the good folks at McDonald’s, but Big Macs are the antithesis of “soul food.” They’re not particularly well-seasoned, and it’s hard to put that indefinable element of “love” into food designed to be mass-produced quickly with minimal human intervention. There’s also no sense of down-home regionality in a Big Mac. Franchising’s raison d’être is that sandwich you buy in Bangor, Maine should taste like the one you buy in Pensacola, Chicago, Topeka, Sioux Falls, Salt Lake City,  Oakland, or whatever McDonald’s in DC is closest to the NMAAHC.

Just don’t call it soul food

On the positive side, the historic regional flexibility and adaptability of African American cuisine offers a key to its survival. Fair or not (and in this blog, we say Not), many criticize the traditional soul food menu as unhealthy. But there’s no reason why soul food restaurants can’t include lower fat, less sweet items or vegetarian/vegan items and still be made with love and good flavor. The African roots of soul food point to an emphasis on vegetables over meat, and developing flavors beyond what we can get from fats and sugar. “Soul food” was inherently adaptive, and still can be.

The other thing that happens to migrant foods is more challenging: As migrant groups become more fixed in the community, people from outside that group start frequenting the local eateries, and over time, the food itself changes to meet the tastes of the new customer base. Americanized versions of Chinese, Italian, or Mexican dishes are typically unrecognizable to visitors from those nations. The taco you buy at a Taco Bell in Minneapolis is not like the taco you might buy from a food truck in Los Angeles, let alone one from Mexico.

Midwesterners have discovered this with the influx of Latin American immigrants in the last twenty years. Here in Sioux City, when we’re sorting out dinner plans, “Let’s have Mexican!’ is inevitably followed by “You mean real Mexican or Taco Bell?” Many local Mexican restaurants cater to both tastes. For instance, you can usually order a taco “American style” (i.e., with cheese, ground beef, and no cilantro).

One meme put the issue succinctly. Don’t look up chingadera. Use your imagination.

Even the “real Mexican” menu is an invention. There is plenty of regional diversity in Mexican cuisine, and most restaurants pick and choose. Some “real Mexican” restaurants around here include Dominican or Guatemalan dishes, in an attempt to cater to the needs of as many groups as possible.

How far can “authentic” soul food be stretched before it becomes something else? I’ve heard it said that “southern” cooking is nothing more than soul food dumbed down in taste, fancied up in looks, and boosted up in price. I can order fried catfish and a side of collards at the Cracker Barrel, and it’s ok…but it’s not quite soul food either.

In real estate, “gentrification” describes the phenomenon of young white professionals moving into older, predominantly African American neighborhoods in search of cheaper rents or home prices. They fix up their houses, and open up coffee shops and such. In the process, property values increase, rents go up. Then, those without the incomes to support the new requirements find themselves being driven out.

In 2015, “Saturday Night Live” doctored up a real-life business in Bushwick to create their “Martha’s Mayonnaise” spoof of what happens under gentrification in Brooklyn.

Recently, this phenomenon of “gentrification” has been applied to soul food.

Two things happen with gentrification: First, we risk losing the historical significance of soul food. Think of it this way: There’s nothing more All-American than hamburgers and hot dogs, but we never think of their German roots. What was the “Hamburg” style of meat? Do we ever stop to think that “wiener” refers to Vienna? Does eating a chicken and roadkill hot dog oozing with white filler move us to seek out the rich sausages of the Central European tradition? Likewise, if soul food survives by the gentrification route, would it get disconnected from its soul?

Gentrified German soul food

Second, with gentrification, the people who created soul food may well be left out in the cold. On the eater’s side, Eboni Harris noted the phenomenon of how “‘ethnic’ foods are ‘discovered’ by well-meaning foodies – often white – who then raise the price of these meals until the original purveyors and consumers can no longer afford to eat them.”

Once upon a time, for instance, oxtails were considered so useless that some butchers gave them away for the asking. Today, oxtails are expensive, especially considering the small amount of meat on them. Barbecue aficionados have noted the same when it comes to brisket.

This is significant for soul food because one of the historic keys to soul food was in the ability of African American cooks to apply the legacy of West African cuisine to make less desirable foods, like neckbones or collards, taste great. But it’s hard for the average person to practice cooking and perfecting traditional dishes if the ingredients break the budget. (When I wanted to make oxtails, I practiced on cheaper stew meat before I dared invest in actual oxtails.)

On the cook’s side, we run into appropriation, aggravated by the multitude of ways in which institutionalized racism hinders African Americans from being able to capitalize on their food heritage. The difficulties faced by trained African American cooks in becoming chefs are quantifiable. We can work our way through the lists of the annual James Beard award winners. We can count up the black chefs that make it onto Chopped episodes, or check cookbook sales.

Last fall, there was a minor media fluff over Neiman-Marcus selling collard greens. We titled our reaction, “Greens for People Better Than You.” The gist of the piece was to wonder why anyone would pay so much for frozen greens rather than go to a local soul food restaurant and by some fresh greens for a fraction of the cost, and probably with superior flavor to boot.

Robert Irvine no doubt makes fine collard greens. Does it matter if his face becomes the face of collards, and his seasoning sets the standard?

For some, this is when “gentrification” begins to sound more like flat-out appropriation: white folks coming in and taking over, obscuring the history, and making money off of other people’s food traditions and hard work, while using the tools of contemporary segregation, such as equal access to capital, to shut out or shut down competitors.

It’s a double injustice. Many southern/soul food dishes were created or perfected by enslaved cooks paid nothing, or by underpaid cooks working under Jim Crow. Spin the clock ahead to 2017, and their descendants are feeling cheated again. Many soul food places are closing down just at a time when southern cuisine and barbecue are coming to national attention and popularity.

At that point, the broader quest for social and economic justice will have an impact on the fate of soul food. If the arc of the moral universe really does bend toward justice, the impact will be positive. The restaurant business is always challenging, but people who want to cook soul food, or include soul food dishes, will benefit from increased opportunities to follow their dreams.

Those of us who like to eat and/or cook soul food have a moral obligation to those who passed it down to us to invest ourselves not just in groceries but in the broader quest for justice. That requires, in the first place, knowledge. We should learn the history behind the cuisine, and also understand the current situation. More on that in a moment.

Soul food may also benefit from a renewed interest in home cooking. Some watch food programming on TV just for its entertainment value, but others get curious enough to try their own hand at things. I can tell from the new options on the grocery shelves at my neighborhood Walmart that people’s kitchen horizons must be broadening.

For some, cooking is a lost art. I’ve had the disconcerting experience of being asked to give advice, tips, or soul food recipes to younger African American women. I’m always flattered, but it just feels weird that they’re asking an old white guy for something that would be better learned from their parents or grandparents. What do I know? I’m just a student myself, and a pretty elementary one at that. I feel like John the Baptist meeting Jesus: “You want me to baptize you? Dude, you should be baptizing me!”

Cooking takes time and practice, a willingness to learn by trial-and-error, screw up a dish, apologize to your family…and then come back and try it again. The current level of interest in cuisines and cooking may give soul food a boost, both in terms of learning to cook them the old-fashioned way, and in adapting the classics to meet our interest in healthier options.

Hopefully, this hands-on practice in the kitchen may also get more people interested in the history behind the soul food. It’s in the nature of that cuisine that some of us are curious about what has gone into the “soul” part.

We know how this works in music. When Chuck Berry died in March, many of us on the downhill half of life’s mountain climb paused to reflect on the music of our childhood.

Chuck Berry in London, 1965. His music ended up teaching me more than music.

Like a lot of white teenagers in the 70s, I discovered Chuck Berry retroactively. I had learned his songs first from the covers done by the Beatles and the Stones. But then I got interested in going back and finding Berry’s originals, and that, in turn, led me to dig back even further into the roots of rock and roll in the r&b and jazz of the 1930s and ’40s. It wasn’t just the music either. Learning how the Delta blues became the Chicago blues, for instance, led to my introduction to the topic of the moment: the Great Migration.

The same has been true in exploring soul food. It prompted me to go back and learn a lot of history that I was never taught in school, and then to think about how that history continues to impact us. This blog reflects some of that journey. I’m sure some react to putting food and history together the same way that some react to putting pineapples on pizza. But I like it.

So, the question of authenticity may solve itself. Some will surely try to capitalize on dumbing-down soul food dishes for a broader audience, but others will respond by offering something more faithful to the living traditions.

Bottom line? Food is always in transition. Techniques, equipment, ingredients, and tastes change. “Soul food” isn’t a museum piece. It’s a living cuisine, and it would be inauthentic to try and somehow freeze it in time. Even the name may change. “Soul food,” after all, was a 1960s invention. The great Edna Lewis, it will be remembered, called it “country cooking.” But my educated guess is that it, whatever “it” is, will survive.

Hello, stranger.

GASTINA / UNIVERSITY AU

There’s a new app at the campus that allows you to chat with some other student it matches you with according to your hobbies and likes. Nina logs in this app to prove Luna wrong and ends up talking all night long with a very interesting stranger. Little she knows this guy is Gaston, her high school crush, who is also Matteo’s (Luna’s boyfriend) best friend.

Take it as if I’m trying to make up for two months without any update xD! Eclipse chapter coming soon, too. 

[Other Chapters]

CHAPTER 3 -  ABOUT SPARKLY DRESSES AND LIFE-LONG CRUSHES

Nina was looking at her phone, reading her last conversation with Roller Track again and again, as if she wanted to memorize it. Was it real? Did she meet a nice and supportive guy who really liked to talk to her? And that spelling bee story, it was so cute, and so encouraging, she wasn’t sure if she would be able to do a decent presentation for her class, but what he told her gave her hope.

“Stop, girls!” Luna’s voice made her jump, like if she had been caught red handed, and put her phone down to look at her best friend, surrounded by Jim and Yam, who were showing her an immeasurable number of dresses and accessories to wear on her birthday. “It’s just a dinner in my aunt’s home, not a brunch with the queen!” she said, with a tired voice.

Yam, who was studying to be a fashion designer, looked at her with an offended expression.

“But it’s your birthday, so you have to be the most beautiful girl over there” she said.

“More beautiful than Ambar, specifically” Jim Added.

“Indeed” Yam was holding a dress in front of the short brunette. “Come on, try this one.” She said, and practically pushed Luna to go inside the changers.

Nina softly laughed.

She knows how hard is to deal with Jim and Yam, she was the one to introduce them with Luna indeed, as they went together to the same school, and kept in contact when it was the time to go to university. Those girls were her only companion during her solitude era, before meeting Luna on her first day at campus, when she had the good luck to be put in the same dormitory as the other girl.  They usually let her pair with them on group activities, and encouraged her to do things as spending time with them on the most popular roller skating rink (even if she usually stayed only on the cafeteria area), but it wasn’t until she met Luna that she got to open her shell completely to someone else than her parents.

And that’s kinda sad.

What surprised her the most was the fact Luna was indeed the long-time lost niece of one of the richest women in the country, Ambar I’m-too-perfect-for-you-all-peasants Smith’s godmother, who had to go to live in Buenos Aires after discovering her past.

She would have freaked out being on her place, but for her luck, she was one hundred percent sure she was the daughter of her parents, even if they might have a competition about who  could embarrass her the most in front of her almost un-existing group of friends.

“That one is perfect!” Yam’s words took her out from her own thoughts, and made her look at her best friend, who was in a very beautiful (yet not Luna’s style) dress. She smiled, putting his phone on her purse, and walked to meet the other girls.

“I think Luna might prefer something less…” she tried to find a good word that wouldn’t make the fashion design student feel devalued. “Ambar-ish” her gaze met her friend’s, who mouthed a ‘thank you’ on her direction.  

The Blonde and the red-head frowned and looked at her dress with a knowing gaze.

“Yeah, is kind of pinky” said Jim

“Maybe we can find something green, it will look nice with her eye’s color” both girls smiled simultaneously, and ran to find more dresses on the store.

Nina and Luna sighed, before starting laughing.

“I feel like I’m some kind of master project for them” Luna said, looking uncomfortable in that dress. “Thank you for coming, by the way, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have survived being alone with those two”.

“You’re welcome” she replied, with a soft smile.

“I guess I will have to wait for them wearing this” Luna sighed, pulling down the hem of the dress. “You were right, this one is so no me, and if I was alone I couldn’t have said no to them about wearing it on the dinner”.

Good Luna, too nice to say something that could disappoint a friend, Nina thought.

“Well, at least you could have let Matteo open mouthed” she said, raising her eyebrows, making her friend laugh.

“Oh God, that would have been so embarrassing�� Luna’s cheeks went red, and Nina was so nice to avoid pointing that out. “Oh, by the way, I forgot to tell you something… just, don’t freak out”.

Nina looked at her, suspicious.

“Why would I…?” she asked, and Luna looked kind of nervous.

“Well, you know I obviously invited Matteo to my birthday dinner, I mean, he is my boyfriend, and I really want him there to cope with my aunt’s mood and so…” Her best friend rambles.

Nina laughed.

“I know you invited him, it’s the right” she said. “Why would I freak out about it?” she then asked, being sure she wouldn’t like the answer.

“Well, ok… Matteo asked me if his best friend could come with him, and I told him it was ok.” Ok, now she was freaking out, she could feel her breathing speeding, and her hands shaking. “I just want him to feel comfortable about going to my aunt’s mansion, I know he used to go there when he was dating Ambar, and I don’t want it to be awkward for him”.

Nina took a deep breath.

Gastón was Matteo’s best friend. She knows him since they went to the same school, but she was pretty sure he didn’t even know she existed before their best friends started dating each other. She have had this massive crush on him since those days at school, but he was one of the most popular guys there, and she was just… just her, the nerdy invisible girl from a lowest year who no-one cared to notice.

For her, everything was right when he didn’t noticed her presence, she was just a shadow passing in front of him on their way to classes, there was no need to talk to him, at all.

But then, Luna met Matteo, and the Mexican and the Italian started this flirting thing between each other, making his life-long crush to notice her for the first time, because both guys were always together.

And everything would be cool if she wasn’t… well, if she wasn’t her. Because every time he talked to her she wanted to reply, but there was always that knot on her throat that made it impossible to say something on his direction. And there were also her heartbeat that went like crazy on his proximity, and her shaking hands that made her make up the most stupid excuses to run away from him, and his stupid oh-so-perfect eyes.

Luna knew all of it, she had to confess when her friend asked about her behavior in front of said guy, and constantly tried to help her to cope with her anxiety problem around Gastón Perida, but nothing Luna could do could change the fact she will never be able to talk to him without embarrassing herself.

“I’m SO, SO sorry…” her friend was saying, and she shook her head.

“Don’t be.” She said, taking a deep breath. “It was the right thing to do. I mean, if Matteo asked you about it, it’s because that’s something important for him, and he is your boyfriend.” She smiled, even if her whole body was shaking.

“Are you sure?” her friend looked worried.

“Yeah, your aunt’s house is huge, I’m pretty sure I won’t have to talk to him… I could keep myself occupied with Jim and Yam, or with Simon.” She said, forcing a smile.

He friend didn’t look that convinced.

“But, what if you try to talk to him? I mean, he seems nice, and according to Matteo you have some things in common.” Her friend suggested, with a bright smile.

“We having something in common? I don’t think so, Luna.” She said, sighing. “And even if we do, how would I know? I can’t even say a word when he is around, it’s like if my whole body turned off when he gets closer, I feel so dumb.”

Luna smiled.

“Turned off? I think it’s the opposite” said her friend, fooling around, and she felt her own cheeks turning red.

“Don’t say that!” she exclaimed, looking around, because her anxiety made her thing someone could be listening them, even if they were completely alone on that part of the store.

Jim and Yam appeared in that exact moment, the blonde was holding a gorgeous sparkly green dress, and the redhead had a pair a silver/green heels hanging on her fingers, they looked completely proud of their choice.

“Try this one!” shout Yam, putting the dress on Luna’s hands, and pushing her to go back inside the changer. Jim followed them, telling she must use the shoes too, to make a good effect because of her height.

Nina smiled, forgetting for a minute or two about the topic she and her best friend had been talking about recently, but then sighed thinking about the short brunette’s words. Would they really have something in common? And if so, could she finally stop acting like an idiot in front of him? Life was easiest when she was at school and he didn’t know she existed.

The week days passed fast, she had been talking with Roller Track all nights before going to sleep (she had to put an alarm so they wouldn’t forget about the time again), about so many things she could barely remember everything. It was so nice to talk to him, doing it let her forget about the fact she would see Gastón that Friday on Luna’s birthday dinner.

Her best friend’s words were stuck on her head, she must try to talk to him, or at least try not running away every time he is close.

Yeah, as if it was easy.

Roller Track: Everything fine?

His question made her sigh.

Felicity: Yeah… just getting dressed, I will go out tonight.

Roller Track: What a coincidence! Me too. –she read. –Well, I suppose I should leave you alone, so you can get ready without some guy bothering you.

She couldn’t help laughing.

Felicity: You are not bothering me.

Roller Track: Yes, I am. –How could a guy she doesn’t even know make her feel so good? Talking with him was so easy. –So go get ready, have fun tonight, and try not to break so many hearts.

She laughed again.

Felicity: What if they break mine? –she had to ask.

Roller Track: I would hunt them down and make them pay, little stranger. No one breaks the heart of my favorite girl during my watch.

Was she blushing?

Felicity: How could I be your favorite girl?

Roller Track: How could you not? –she bit her lip. –Now, stop talking with me and get ready, we can continue this conversation tomorrow.

She sighed. She didn’t want to stop talking with him, because doing it felt safe, contrary to the idea of going to Luna’s dinner and talking with real-life people. But he was right, she was kind of late, Luna had already gone to her aunt’s, as she had to help there.

Felicity: Ok, read you tomorrow… Have fun tonight.

Roller Track: Thank you, stranger.

She saw her best friend, jaw dropping to the floor, because she looked drop dead gorgeous. Jim and Yam had made an amazing job! That green dress popped up her beautiful green eyes, and the makeup was on point, sparkly but soft at the same time. She, besides her, felt like the ugly duck.

“Don’t say that, you’re gorgeous too” her friend replied.

She had said those words out loud, apparently.

She looked at her own clothes on the mirror, a high waisted red skirt with a white black-dotted sleeveless shirt completely buttoned up, and a cute red necklace under the lapels. There was nothing special on her look, or maybe she was so plain the outfit couldn’t help her look better.

“I’m not, but it’s ok… you’re the birthday girl, you must be the beautiful swan.” Nina answered, with a bright smile.

They were on Luna’s bedroom at her aunt’s mansion, a place that looked nothing like a room that would have belonged to her friend, as it was plain white, without any picture or personal belonging. The only colorful things on that room were those Luna had took there to get ready for the dinner, whose were all spread on the bed.

“Shut up, you just need a little bit of color in your lips” said her friend, looking at her makeup bag, taking a bright red lipstick out. “This would be great”.

“I’m already wearing something on my lips” she replied.

“Transparent lip balm doesn’t count” Luna put the lipstick on her hand, with a bright smile. “And about your hair, just let me…” she released her hair bum, and let it fall softly on her back, just grabbing a pair of strands with a pin.

Nina looked at herself on the mirror when her lips were painted, and felt kin of different, like if she was a different version of herself.

A better one.

They went downstairs when one of the maids told them there were some guests arriving already, and Nina stayed behind with a soft smile, looking at her friend while she greeted those who came to celebrate her birthday.

The first to arrive were Ambar and Simon, she was looking spectacular as always, and Simon was wearing his usual kind of clothing, but at least his girlfriend convinced him to keep his beanies in his drawers. Jim and Yam came after, the second one bringing her boyfriend with her, and then Nina’s heart rate started to go wild, as she saw Matteo and Gastón coming on their way.

OH GOD, OH GOD.

Gastón was looking so handsome she wasn’t sure how her legs were still holding the rest of her body, and he was looking at her, he was freakin’ looking at her. At first, she thought it was just a coincidence, he may be looking at someone else and she was on the way of his sight, but then it became pretty obvious he wasn’t looking anything else than her, and she felt the anxiety growing on her chest.

She had to go somewhere else, NOW! Otherwise she could have a panic attack right there, in front of him and everybody.

Matteo hugged and kissed his girlfriend as soon as he and his friend were in front of them, and Nina couldn’t do anything else than awkwardly looking at her own feet, being conscious about the fact Gastón was looking at her in that exact moment.

Is like if his sight could make her skin burn.

“Hey, Nina.” Gaston’s voice made her lift her head and look directly at his face.

Big –HUGE– mistake it was.

Her legs started shaking, and her throat felt completely dry, while her heart made a personal goal to break her ribs cage.  

Say something, anything! Her brain screamed.

“H-hey.” She Stuttered.

Ok, one word… is ok, you can do this.

“How are you?” He asked, and she looked at her friend trying to find some help, but she was still very distracted with her boyfriend, so she had to look back at Gastón.

“F- fine…?” why did she sound like if she was making a question. “I’m fine, thank you.” she repeated, trying to sound more secure. Why is this so hard? She should have been over that high school crush from long ago.

She looked back at her friend, who finally had parted away from her boyfriend’s arms, thank God! She smiled.

“Hey Matteo” she greeted the guy, and then centered her attention on her best friend. “I will go to the kitchen to check that thing with the drinks you told me, so you don’t have to worry about it.” She lied, and her friend frowned at her knowing what she was doing, but didn’t say a word to stop her.

So she ran away, again.

Chokehold Part II

This is continued from the (poorly formatted) blurb that I wrote here: http://consultation-fee.tumblr.com/post/154497083464/chokehold-mini-blurb.

I apologize if this isn’t to my usual standards but I needed to get something written. You guys and gals have been so patient.  I also plan to change my template soon so it’s not so hard to read my stories. Please enjoy.

A gut-wrenching, sickening hiss of air permeated the entirety of the Gibraltar base. The fans around Angela had all lurched to life as their blades began to rotate in the opposite direction.

Inwardly, she told herself, over and over, the scant number of minutes she had before her body would begin to shut down. The thought of dying to asphyxiation made horror and dread bubble up in the back of her mind as she attempted to hold her breath as often as she could.

Trembling fingers grasped at the control panel that flickered a brilliant orange hue. She’d have no choice but to allow the mystery entity into the weapons room. Just as she entered the last digit, an idea struck her and the pistol that she’d slid beneath the waistband of her sleep shorts was loosed from its hiding spot. Barrel aimed for the glowing keypad, she pulled the trigger and…

BAM! PING!

Red hot pain seared across her cheek followed by a warm feeling that flowed down her neck. Instinctively, one hand shot up to grasp at a new wound…a slice that traveled most of her left cheek in a horizontal line. With wide eyes, she gazed forward to see what had managed to block her firearm only to be greeted with a silhouetted figure crouched to the ground. In front of their metallic sheened form was a blade, drawn, alighted in orange. When Angela finally fixed her eyes on the lifeless visor, it erupted in the same warm light and a laugh that made her skin crawl echoed the dark hallway.

“I’ve found you, Angela…”

She sucked in breath and found the act of it made her dizzy. The oxygen in the hallway was waning… the others would be in worse shape soon if she didn’t hurry.

“Genji…you have to let me pass…please. The others are going to perish if you stop me.”

There was a clicking sound and a scrape as he stood fully and allowed his katana’s end to trail the floor, the Dragonblade hissing as its tip carved the metal plating. Based on his stance, a brief flicker of a man consumed Angela’s mind…a handsome Japanese man with a crooked smile and a look of sheer confidence dripping from him…green hair and thick black eyebrows… She’d never truly known that man, but she had a feeling that this is what he likely looked at during his most terrifying times. When her mind focused again, he’d taken a few steps closer to her, blade still drawn. As she began to take one step backwards, he was instantly upon her, his hand pulling her chin towards his visor almost painfully as his fingers sank into flesh.

“My dear Angela… I simply cannot allow you to stop our new friends from entering this room. You’ll have to hang out with me here just a little bit longer…”

Angela’s brows furrowed at his words and the callous, viperous tone to each word. They were almost sing-song and aside from them being from his own mouth, her heart knew they weren’t from his consciousness. She was looking into the face of the man that she’d grown to love and listening to the venom of the person that was attempting to kill off the remaining members of the Overwatch.

“I don’t know who you are, but Genji doesn’t “hang out”….Who are you?”

Genji’s body went rigid for a moment as if the person who’d consumed his mind had only been half paying attention. His grip on her face tightened some and she winced before he released her altogether. It was when he casually walked towards the control panel and began clicking away at the keys did she realize the individual was back. His stance had taken on a more feminine one, hip cocked to the side, as he twirled his katana in one hand out of boredom. The usual Japanese accent that came with his smooth, calm voice melded into a clipped one that Angela knew was common in the Mexican regions of the world.

“Mija….Mija. I feel like we might have gotten off on the wrong foot…”, Genji stopped messing with the panel and turned to face her as he rested against it. His visor focused on Angela but everything else was completely foreign, “I had orders to come here but it’s not like I wanted to do it… I told those two it was gonna be soooo boring…”. After the words had left Genji’s mouth, he raised a hand to “cover his mouth” as if he’d said too much.

Angela stood, analyzing how much space was between her, the doorway, and whomever had hijacked Genji. It was not lost on the person, however, as a girlish chuckle emanated from the visor and the katana pointed towards the weapon room, “What exactly are you wanting in there? You’ve got three shots left in that pistol. You could have shot your cyborg boyfriend by now and gotten it. I’ve already got the information I needed…now I just have to wait for the other idiots...Oh…right…”.

She clicked her tongue, a noise that sounded odd coming from Genji’s mouth, and the panel behind her lit up. Athena’s logo appeared on the small monitor above it with an odd distortion in the form of damaged pixels and code, “Athena… you’d better turn the oxygen back on. Don’t want our friends here to die. That would end all of our fun”. The fans that had once rumbled to life to suck the life force from the rooms now boomed again and a steady stream of air hissed back through the ducts. Angela immediately felt her lungs rejoicing.

With returned air, an unafraid tone returned. Angela stood fully, steadying herself away from the wall with an expression of determination that belied her fears, “Why do you continue to use his voice instead of the panel…You were speaking through that before…”. She started to take a step forward, but her strength hadn’t completely returned and she found the wall again.

“Oh, you don’t like my voice coming through like that, mija? So sorry…Here, maybe this’ll be better”

It was like the flood gates had opened and Genji went slack. The katana fled from his hand and clambered along the floor before resting just short of the console as one metal hand reached up to grasp at his own throat. After a few moments, he gasped loudly and his visor lit up a vibrant green. Angela watched him, but kept her distance, as he sunk to his knees and held his head for a time.

“Am I me? Where was I…”

She desperately wanted to go to him, but the fear still lingered in her mind. It pained her to watch him struggle with his inner self again, something she’d had to sit by and watch when she’d first met him. It was when he looked up at her that her heart sunk and she felt her will cave. She couldn’t see his eyes but the amount of sadness in his words drove her to rush to his side and wrap her arms around his shoulders. He’d done it so many times for her when her research had troubled her or a patient had been lost. His words and touch had reassured her, and she’d be damned if she denied him now.

They stayed there for a long time, what easily could have been half an hour. He was silent for most of it until they both heard noises coming from their fellow members’ rooms and the comm console next to them sparked to life with a familiar British accent, “L-love, are you okay? I blacked out for a while and when I came to, I couldn’t get out…”.

Angela reached up next to her and pressed a communication key to open up all lines to private rooms and she finally spoke to them all, “Lena, I have Genji and we’re both okay and stable… Are all of you okay?”. One by one they spoke.

Lena’s voice was first, although her words were slower than normal, “Yeah, just out of breath”.

“I’m alright… Didn’t pass out but couldn’t speak”. Winston.

Then a thick southern lilt spoke up, disgruntled as ever, “Fell on my damned hat, couldn’t get the door open. I’m rightly gonna kick someone’s ass when I get this thing open.” Jesse...

Angela nodded with each new voice and glanced at Genji who watched her closely, “And Reinhardt, dear, are you there?”. Everyone was silent and just as they’d expected the worse, a rumbling, hearty voice finally echoed over the comm, “Aye, sorry, my dear. Tried to bust ze door down and ran out of breath”.

Genji moved in Angela’s grasp and she released him, eyes moving with him as his fist struck the button to communicate. The determination that had driven Angela seemed to consume him and his voice sounded loudly over the comms, “Do not worry… I’m going to get those doors open… We’re not out of the woods yet…”.

As Angela started to her feet, she felt a breeze rush by her and a noise she couldn’t put her finger on. Just as she was about to voice the oddness near the doorway, something wrapped around her neck and a clipped, Mexican accent filled her ears…a strongly familiar one.

“Hello again, Mija… oh and, psych! Cyborg boyfriend there? Just a pawn. I’ve been here the whole time.”

Bohdi Sanders, PhD

Bohdi Sanders, PhD

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