#Directing his hands in return <3 They uplift each other!! It can be so sweet

[sysig]

Second request: baby todd and Jake fluff perhaps? 💖

Day 12 - Little hands, my one weakness

[tawakkull]

ISLAM 101: Spirituality in Islam: Part 81

Dervish (Dervish)

Dervish is a word that means poor, destitute one. Even though it is used for the poor and helpless in worldly terms, in Sufi terminology it is used for those who are aware of their poverty and helplessness before God. Although poverty and helplessness in worldly terms are associated with beggary, travelers to God are not poor and helpless in that they do not ask anyone for anything. Heroes of truth, who have dedicated themselves to God, are content with what He has given them and are indifferent to all other things. Even in hunger and thirst they unburden themselves to God, without revealing their need to others. A dervish is also regarded as being the threshold to a door. This does not mean that dervishes humiliate themselves before people; rather, it means that they are humble and in their awareness of their nothingness before God attribute to Him whatever they may possess that is worthy of appreciation. They are also humble among people because of the Creator and always aware that they are a precious work of God’s art with all the Divine gems inherent in their nature.

Sometimes perfect people are mentioned as being the dervishes of a certain guide. This is because it is important to stress the place of a dervish, both in the sight of God and of people. Besides, sometimes simple, humble, content, and lenient people are called dervishes, while there are some great, sagacious persons with a deep knowledge of God who are known as “a poor one with the heart of sultan,” in that they are magnanimous even though poor.

The leading scholars of Sufism describe a true dervish as one who is abstinent, pious, righteous, patient, loving, tolerant, and steadfast, severing relations with all else save God from the heart, and devoted to His service with the intention and effort of reaching Him.

A dervish takes his or her first step by holding back from sins and by fulfilling obligatory and supererogatory religious duties. The second step is to be loving and tolerant toward everyone, to see the universe as a cradle of brotherhood/sisterhood, and to try to represent the nature and morals of Muhammad, and the truth of his being Ahmad, upon him be peace and blessings. The third step is to reach the horizon of sincerity and perfect goodness and to develop the theoretical knowledge and belief based on imitation into experience and verified truths.

At the first stage, dervishes are at the beginning of piety, and demonstrate that they are ready to understand the Qur’an and to start the journey to meet with the Almighty. They are awarded in proportion to their sincerity and purity of intention and advance toward piety and the summits of being pleased with God and finally into the Gardens of Paradise.

God Almighty says: The great among you are those who are pious. The last abode of the pious will be Paradise and their drink will be kawthar.[1]

In the second stage, they build relations with all existence, living or non-living, (without, however, assigning their heart to any other than the Almighty) and appreciate each according to its position. They love and embrace everything, repel hostilities with love, and evil with good. Thinking that the road that they are to follow is the road of not showing resentment, but rather that of patience and tolerance, they run toward the rank of being pleased with God, and whisper like Yunus:

You should be voiceless to one who curses, and handless to one who beats; A dervish should have no heart to resent, so you cannot be a dervish.

In the third stage, dervishes are persons of peace and spiritual vision, having entered the way of seeing, feeling, and knowing only Him, and being faithful friends of Him. It makes no difference to them whether good comes from friends or evil from enemies. This is even more so if they have heard the voice of the Friend, then they will no longer feel breaths other than His, and will be freed from interest in and worries about any other than Him, acquiring a second nature that is determined by “secret.” They know what they really should know and are freed from bearing a burden of unnecessary information.

Everyone can enter the way of being a dervish. No one who has taken a step on this way is denied. However, entering such a way has some requirements which one who is ready to take the first step on this way is expected to fulfill. Tokadizade Sekip[2] states that the door to being a dervish is open for everybody, but warns that this is the way of offering the soul to the Beloved and therefore requires sincerity and perfect goodness:

The door to the Truth is open to a wakeful person, But those who know how to sacrifice their souls can reach God. I have seen many who have come to this dervish convent, Willing and ready to sacrifice themselves on the way of truth.

The Prophet Abraham is an excellent example to remind one that reaching God is possible by sacrificing one’s soul in His way. He breasted the fire of Nimrod[3] in this way and, leaving his home and native land, set up his home in the desert. In utter submission to God, he took his wife and son and left them in a desolate valley. He offered the “fruit of his heart”-his son who had been bestowed on him in return for many years of desiring a son-to the Truth, as a sacrifice.[4] In short, he showed such resolution, power of will, and determination at every step, that except for the pride of humankind, he has no equal in human history. It is as if Sayyid Nigari[5] uttered the following couplet about him:

Does one who seeks the Beloved struggle for his own life? And can another who seeks his own life be in quest of the Beloved?

So, being a dervish means aspiring to be a hero of meeting with the Beloved, which signifies devoting one’s life to acquiring God’s good pleasure and approval in the consciousness of the meaning and purpose of the religious commandments. It has also been described as being in quest of the Truth under the guidance of love and zeal and by dominating one’s voice, heart, and carnal soul. This description is also significant. Riza Tevfik, a late Turkish poet and philosopher, presenting the characteristics of being a dervish, enlightens this point as follows:

Being a dervish means dominating one’s essence; One who is a captive of his ego is not a dervish. It is adopting love as a guide and finding God; It is not sweets, an axe, a staff, a needle or a skewer.

Do not sit absentminded in the name of devotion; Do not shout, nor dance violently, nor beat your breast! Nor foam by crying “O He, O All-Living!” Mentioning God is not a part of digestion.

Learn the secret about God from your heart; It is the heart which sees the Beloved through love. What causes a wakeful one with knowledge of God to feel that pleasure, Is not henbane, nor wine, nor opium, nor anything else.

Do not expect wonder from the stone of Najaf,[6] Nor separate from human beings, your brethren. You cannot see the Truth from graves or tombs; A true man of God is a sultan, not a hermit.

Everywhere are heaps of crude souls, What is your relation with them? Take refuge in your heart that tends to seclusion! The world is not as spacious as the heart.

In the beginning, a dervish is a student who studies theoretical knowledge; his or her practicing what is learned is representation; then, feeling and experiencing more deeply what is known and practiced-by each according to his or her capacity-is certainty. The first stage can also be regarded as theoretical Shari’a, the second as practical Shari’a, and the third as Shari’a experienced in truth. A traveler is a dervish during the whole of the journeying, through all of its stations, from the beginning to the end.

Some exacting scholars of Sufism regard being a dervish as an essential condition on the way to meet with God. According to them, being a dervish has the same meaning and importance for the cleansing of the carnal self, the refinement of heart, and the purification of spirit and its acquiring transcendence as treatment, diet and abstention from harmful habits, food and drink do for health. As a doctor’s advice is essential for the cure of diseases, spiritual diseases also require the advice and direction of a spiritual guide. The character of an individual is important in the diagnosis and treatment of bodily diseases, which is why modern medicine advises that every patient requires individual attention. This is also true for spiritual diseases and treatment. Each disease may require a treatment which is different, at least, in its details.

For example, for an initiate who cannot be saved from the pressure of corporeality or bodily desires, or reach the level of life lived in the heart and the spirit, austerity is essential. A guide who knows the person and can diagnose his or her disease well, will advise renunciation of the world and whatever in it relates to the pleasures of the worldly life. If the initiate has fully concentrated on the pleasures of the other world without considering the Truly Desired and Eternally-Besought One, the guide will urge renunciation of the other world with its pleasures and concentration on the Truth. If, on the other hand, neither the world nor the hereafter can keep an initiate from the main goal of the journeying, if both serve to improve concentration on eternity, the guide will open the doors on the world and the hereafter wide for the initiate. Concerning this, Jalal al-Din al-Rumi says:

The world means heedlessness of God; it does not mean possessing silver coins, clothes, or a family. Our Prophet praised wealth earned in lawful ways and used for the revival and uplifting of Islam, and said: “How good is any wealth earned in lawful ways for a righteous one!” If enough water finds its way into a ship, it causes it to sink, but if it is under the ship, it causes it to float. If you do not put the love of wealth in your heart, then you can swim safely in the ocean of spiritual journeying and initiation. True dervishes, from the time of Adam until today, have thought and acted in such a way. Even though they were not called dervishes, we can regard the People of the Suffa-the poor Companions who stayed in the antechamber adjacent to the Prophet’s Mosque in Madina-as the first dervishes of the Muslim Umma. They observed both the balance between the world and the hereafter and the Divine rights to a degree that no one else has been able to, and they became heroes of resignation (to God’s will).

After the Companions, all the people of journeying and initiation who have journeyed on the way to God under different titles, such as asceticism or Sufism or being a dervish, have performed great tasks, as if they were the soul and blood in the veins of the society, so long as they have had no interest in politics and concentrated all their efforts for belief in God’s Unity and maintaining the Islamic life in this belief. When they have acted to the contrary, they have both harmed society and ruined themselves.

Using being a dervish, which, in fact, is a state based on humility and a feeling of nothingness, for worldly benefits is such a means of contamination of the spirit that nothing other than a special Divine grace can clean it.

Let Mawlana Jalal al-Din al-Rumi have the last word:

A luxurious life is a shame on dervishes; a burden in their hearts. How nice is feeling destitute before Him; And being in need of Him on His way. For pomp and luxury on the way to the Beloved Are like thorns; they hurt the feet of dervishes.

O God! Make full of blessings my religious life, which is the guarantee of my innocence, and my other life, to which I am bound to go, and my world, in which I can be perfected.

And bestow Your blessings and peace on our master Muhammad, and on his family and the Companions altogether.

[1] Kawthar is the name of a river in Paradise. (Trans.) [2] Tokadizade Sekip was one of the Turkish poets and writers who lived in Izmir in the first half of the 20th century. He wrote in favor of freedom during the reign of the Ottoman Sultan Abdulhamid II, and was one of the founders of the Association of Defending the Basic Rights in Izmir. (Trans.) [3] Nimrod was the that was given to the Chaldaean kings in Iraq. (Trans.) [4] Prophet Abraham, upon God’s command, left his elder son Ishmael in the valley of Makkah together with her mother Hagar. (Trans.) [5] Seyyid Mir Hamza Nigari was a Sufi poet from Azerbaijan. He wrote lyrical poems to express God’s love. (Trans.) [6] Najaf is a city in the southern Iraq, which bears holiness for the Shi’te Muslims. (Trans.)

[edgewaterfarmcsa]

FALL CSA WEEK 4

- p i c k l i s t -

BUTTERNUT SQUASH - NAPA CABBAGE - GREEN CABBAGE - PURPLE TOP TURNIPS - CARROTS - 

HOT PEPPER - FENNEL - LETTUCE - RED ONIONS - POTATOES - PARSLEY 

There is very little for me to report on right now other than, hello snow.  The headlines are a buzz with election day predictions (written on TUESDAY).  So to get through the next 48 hours, I will put my head towards the ground, pick vegetables, wash vegetables, and pack them into boxes because no matter what the results of this very important election are, our job at Edgewater is to grow food and nurture the land.  So that is what we will do and keep on doing forever and ever, amen (this sentiment is really turning out to be my 2020 mantra).  ALSO, to complement the stress picking happening today, I offer so many recipes for stress cooking to get you through the week!  PRO-TIP FOR GUT HEALTH, ferment all the veggies.  

HOT TIPS:  

Ashkenazi kimchi 

From the (best) cookbook that uplifts my heritage, 

THE GEFILTE MANIFESTO by Jeffrey Yoskowitz and Liz Alpern

JENNY’S NOTE: THIS RECIPE IS EXCELLENT.  This ferment, inspired by Korea and Eastern Europe, presents a very delicious kimchi that my WHOLE FAMILY (kiddos and all) love.  We put on/in everything (soups, sandwiches, eggs, tacos, etc…) 

1 pound green cabbage, outer leaves removed, cored and thinly shredded

1 pound napa cabbage, outer leaves removed, cored and coarsely chopped

1 pound turnips, halved and cut into ¼ inch thick half moons

1 pound carrots cut into ¼ inch thick rounds

2 scallions, sliced

8 cups water

½ cup kosher salt

FOR THE PASTE

1 medium red onion, quartered

4 garlic cloves

2 chile peppers, fresh or dried, mild to hot based on your preference

1 tablespoon hot hungarian paprika (optional)

3 tablespoons grated peeled fresh ginger

Place the prepared vegetables in a large bowl.  In a separate container, combine the water and salt and stir until the salt has dissolved.  Pour the saltwater brine over the vegetables, weigh down the vegetables to ensure that they stay below the brine, and let sit at room temperature for 1.5 hours.

Drain the vegetables, reserving 1 cup of brine, and return them to the bowl.

TO MAKE THE PASTE: In a food processor, combine all the paste ingredients and process for about 15 seconds, or until the ingredients break down to form a rough paste.  If you don’t have a food processor, you can do this using mortar and pestle.

Using a wooden spoon or your hands, coat the vegetables with the paste.  Once well coated, pack the vegetables very tightly into two quart size jars or a small ceramic croc so that the brine rises to cover them. If there is not enough liquid in the jar to keep the vegetables submerged, pour in enough of the reserved brine to cover them.

CREATE A SEAL: If fermenting in a crock use a plate or wooden board to force the vegetables beneath the brine.  Top with a clean glass growler or jar filled with water to ensure that the weight applies pressure on the vegetables keeping them submerged.  If fermenting in a jar, use a smaller jar filled with water to do the same.  Cover with a towel to keep out dust and bugs.  Let the kimchi ferment on our kitchen counter, out of direct sunlight, for 4 to 7 days, or longer to taste.  Fermentation times vary significantly with temperature, so it is critical to taste the kimchi each day after 2 days.  When the kimchi reaches the desired taste, cover the jar and refrigerate.  Kimchi will remain delicious in your fridge for up to 6 months.  

ALSO, SAUERRUBEN:

A purely turnip ferment that is so so good and really plays up the horseradish notes inherent of the turnip

2 pounds whole turnips

1 tablespoon plus 1 teaspoon kosher salt

Using the medium hole in box grater or the shredder on a food processor, shred the turnips, mixing the shreds with your hands to coat evenly with salt. Continue to mix with your hands for a few minutes more, pressing down occasionally to release more liquid. Take a fistful of shredded turnips and squeeze- if liquid oozes out, then you’re ready.

Place the turnips in a quart sized jar, being careful not to lose any of the liquid. (A canning funnel helps avoid spills.) Create a seal using a smaller jar that fits into the mouth of the quart size jar, fill it with water, and place on top of turnips to force them beneath the brine and to ensure that the weight applies pressure, keeping the turnip shreds submerged. Cover with a towel to keep out dust and bugs. Let the turnips sit at room temperature for 3 to 6 days. Taste after 3 days to see if it’s sour enough for your liking. If not, reseal and taste daily.

Once the desired flavor is reached, cover the jar and refrigerate. Note that the top layer may dry out. If this happens, just scrape it off. Sauerruben will remain delicious in the refrigerator for up to 3 months.

1 pound small turnips, trimmed, scrubbed, cut into 1” wedges 2 tablespoons white miso

2 tablespoons unsalted butter 1 teaspoon sugar

Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper 2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice

Combine turnips, miso, butter, and sugar in a medium skillet, then add water just to cover vegetables. Season with salt and pepper.

Bring to a boil over medium-high heat and cook turnips, turning occasionally, until they are tender and liquid is evaporated, 15–20 minutes.

Once all the liquid has cooked off, keep cooking turnips, tossing occasionally, until they are golden brown and caramelized and the sauce thickens and glazes the vegetables, about 5 minutes longer.

Add lemon juice and a splash of water to pan and swirl to coat turnips. Season with salt and pepper.

LENTIL, CABBAGE, AND FETA SALAD WITH FRIZZLED ONIONS BY LUKAS VOLGER from his book start simple

Copyright © 2020 by Lukas Volger. Published by Harper Wave, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers. Reprinted by permission

JENNY’S NOTE: This was the salad of the summer at our house!!  We made a mess of it on Fridays and would eat it for 3 days after.  Also, since Summer returns on Thursday (HALLELUJAH 60 DEGREES!!) I suggest you make, eat, and pretend we live in the tropics as long as possible until the temps drop and seasonal shifts happen.  

½ cup brown, black or dark green lentils

Salt

½ medium white or yellow onion

Olive oil

5 cups sliced cabbage

¼ teaspoon sugar

2 tablespoons red or white wine vinegar

2 teaspoons dijon mustard

¼ teaspoon honey

½ cup crumbled feta cheese

1.2 cup coarsely chopped toasted almonds

½ cup parsley leaves or dill fronds

 Combine the lentils with 1 cup water and ½ teaspoon salt in a small saucepan.  Bring to a simmer, cover, and cook until tender, 12 to 18 minutes, depending on which lentils you use.  Drain off and liquid left in the pan and allow to cool.

Meanwhile, slice the onion into paper-thin wasps, preferably using a mandolin, or working carefully with a chef’s knife.  Warm about ¼ inch of the olive oil in a small skillet over medium heat.  Dip a piece of onion into it to ensure it’s properly hot- it should sizzle immediately- then add all the onions.  Cook, stirring often with a fork, until they get crispy and turn a reddish-brown color, 10 to 20 minutes. Watch carefully for the final few minutes, as they burn easily.  Use a slotted spoon to transfer them to a paper towel- lined plate and sprinkle with salt.  SAVE THE OIL!

When the oil has cooled until it’s safe to handle, strain it through a fine mesh sieve or coffee filter to remove all solids into a glass jar (I use a 3-inch strainer for this task).

Toss the cabbage, ½ teaspoon of salt, and the sugar in a colander and let soften for 15 to 30 minutes, then gently press with a spatula to drain off excess liquid.  

Combine the vinegar, mustard, and honey in a jar, along with the 3 tablespoons of the cooled onion-cooking oil.  Shake to emulsify.  

Fold the cabbage, lentils, cheese, almonds, and parsley leaves with most of the dressing in a serving bowl.  Taste and add more dressing if needed.  Pile the frizzled onions on top, tossing them into the salad at the table it’s being served.  

Fennel gives this salad it's signature crunch and lends a sweetness to balance the red onions and parsley.

1 cup loosely packed fresh flat-leaf parsley leaves 1 medium fennel bulb halved lengthwise, thinly sliced

1 small red onion, halved lengthwise and thinly sliced into half-moons 3 tablespoons fresh lemon juice

1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil 1/2 teaspoon celery seeds

Coarse salt and freshly ground pepper

Prepare a large ice-water bath. Put parsley, fennel, and onion in a colander, and set in ice-water bath. Let soak 10 minutes. Drain, and transfer to a salad spinner. Spin until dry, and transfer to a serving bowl. Add lemon juice, oil, and celery seeds; toss to combine. Season with salt and pepper.

 AND IF YOU ARE NOT A FAN OF ANY OF THE ABOVE SALADS, AND YOU DO NOT WISH TO FERMENT, 

THEN ROAST ALL YOUR VEGGIES AND YOU WILL be so pumped. 

[dickmedownmendess]

The Chosen Two

This has been on my mind for the past week so I finally decided to write it. Hope you guys enjoy! (Also hopefully it doesn’t get removed like my last one *wipes away tears*)

Pairings: Connor x OC

Words: 3.k

Glasses clattered together as conversation filled the luxurious venue. Numerous college students scattered the large room, holding champagne glasses containing God-only-knows. 

          “Either I’m extremely tipsy or just generally nervous, but I think I’m going to barf.” I mutter to my best friend, Avery, as we stood close to each other in the midst of everyone.

Tonight was an award ceremony for UCLA’s School of Film, Theatre and Television. I was nominated for many different categories in the film category, and with the competitive nature I possessed, I desired to win every category I was in. The most important award I was in the running for was Film of the Year which, if won, gives the opportunity to display your talents publicly, while also gaining the exposure to jumpstart your career. 

         “Oh quit it, you’ve done so many talented videos and photo shoots, it would be discrimination if you didn’t win at least one of them.” She ensures confidently. I eyed her quizzically, a humorous smile spreading across my lips. 

         “Discrimination?” I repeat in a laugh. She was always a little melodramatic in her motivational speeches. 

         “For sure, it would be discrimination against a bad bitch honestly.” We both laugh, clinking glasses in agreement to the statement. 

Once it dies down, I scan the room for the one, and the only person that has been heavy on my mind since nominations were announced. 

         “Listen, my type isn’t surfer-white-boy, but that Connor Cashier guy can get it.” Alex whispers to me, her eyes fixed on what I assumed, Connor. Following her gaze, I also looked at the man of the hour–and also the cause of my nauseate. 

He dressed in a grey tailored suit, the jacket opened to reveal a checkered button-up that complimented the suit, and overall posh look. He raked a hand through his prim hair, chuckling at something someone was saying to him. A crowd gradually formed around him, but he remained placid, not an utter amount of uneasiness in his demeanor. 

         “Connor Brashier is my worst nightmare right now.” I admit, Alex looks away from him to give me a perplexed frown. 

         “And why is that? The boy looks like he weighs no more than 90 pounds wet.” 

My gaze lingers on him, momentarily lost in how well composed his film he admitted was. It captured all the aesthetics of nature, it made the viewers look at nature past just its beauty. He raised awareness of our effect on nature, all while tying a story plot to it. He filmed it across many beautiful nature spots in the States (only because it was prohibited to use out of state content). 

He was basically the poster child for the film major, most underclass students looked up to him, like he was a mogul. 

What made it all the more frustrating was how well he handled the popularity. It was always so mysterious. He didn’t smile too much, and he wasn’t smug about his accomplishments, there weren’t any troubling stories about him, mostly just allegations of who he sleeps with and the typical rumor subjects. He simply focused on his filming and chilled with his friends in downtime. 

I didn't realize how long I was staring until his eyes meet mine, the blues in them so intense, they practically shined under the starlight. I quickly avert my gaze back to Alex, sighing. 

          “He’s just so talented. And like–I don’t know. I’m just afraid he’s going to win and continue to get the exposure he basically already has.” I confess, toying with a ringlet of hair out of habit when I’m nervous. 

          “You’re downplaying your own work D, you personified California, and filmed them around California. And told a story. Who the hell thinks of that? You articulated on every detail, I had to use my brain. You know I don't like doing that. Your film is stunning. And if it couldn’t get better, you did it all on the price of your own money. I doubt rich boy Connor can say that.” She states matter of factually, sass lacing her words. I blush, genuinely warm by her, comical, but uplifting words.

          “You’ve always had a way with words, that’s why you need to win that journalist of the year award.” I hug her. 

          “Oh honey, I’m not worried about a stupid award, that’s just justification for objectifying our talents to a mere thing that’ll wind up in our attics...or a box, or a trash...or even a–” 

          “Ladies and gentlemen if you could find your seat at your designated tables. We will start the ceremony shortly.” The president announces into the microphone. Alex huffs, giving a small eye roll. I snicker patting her shoulder. 

          “See ya later journalist of the year.” I tease with a wink. Backing away, I don’t watch where I’m going and stumble into a body. Their hands instinctively grabbed my sides to hold me up. The piquant cologne was the first thing noticed before I even turned, but once I became motionless. 

          “Sorry, Danielle right?” I looked up and blinked mute. Lost for words mostly because I was baffled at his voice, I don’t think I’ve ever heard him talk—and I’ve definitely had to do a project with him in the past, so that says a lot for the amount of dialogue he uses. Straightening up, I recover smoothly flipping my hair off my shoulder. 

          “Yes, sorry about that.” I give a wry smile, he merely smiles back in response nodding his head. 

We both walk to the same table, he glances over his shoulder noticing me, automatically pulling out a chair for me before taking a seat of his own a few chairs down. I smile at the unexpected gesture, he winks back taking a swig of drink in his seat. 

Looking around the table, it registers that the people seated here are also nominees for the best film. I didn’t even feel threatened by them, and a hinted ounce of guilt surface while I smile at them. Champagne glasses accommodates the table, and I grab one, taking a swill of the bitter drink. 

They didn’t hold back on the alcohol at all. 

Promptly, the different professors of the theatre major began presenting awards. As much as I wanted to be entertained by the witty commentary, the heavy weight of my eyelids kept me blinking, while shifting in my seat, I lightly swayed, grabbing hold of the table to stabilize myself. 

How much did I drink? I wonder, glancing around the table to check if anyone witnessed my drunkenness. Catching the striking eyes of Connor, he smirks, his chest noticeably bouncing in a silent laugh. I giggle as well, looking away and excusing myself from the table. 

My heels felt 10 feet tall as I walked to the bathroom, but I did it effortlessly, disguising how tipsy I truly was. Once in the comforts of the clean bathroom, I look at myself. 

Shouldn’t have done that. 

The world spun, and I was suddenly a lot cuter than before. 

         “Ah shit, I’m drunk.” I murmur, then giggle because in my consumption of the many glasses of champagne, I also swallowed the tickled bug. Wetting a napkin, I patted my eyes, endeavoring to clear up the swirl in her eyes, while not messing up the makeup job Alex did. She made me look stunning, alcohol-aside. “If all fails and I don’t win a damn thing, at least I look cute...right?” I say to myself, while examining my face. Before leaving the bathroom, I pee out a small portion of the liquor, tugging the end of my bodycon dress down on my thighs after I flush and leave the stall. 

Stumbling out of the bathroom, I exhale heavily glancing at the ongoing dull ceremony, then towards the exit where Connor leans on the wall hiding, his back faced me, head pointed down. The liquor confidence ushered my legs to move in his direction, I cleared my voice. 

Mid-exhale, he looks over his shoulder at the sound, the mango smoke blowing into my face as he continues to blow out. I wave it away, snickering. 

          “Is this ‘something to take the edge off’?” I quip, observing how his porcelain face reddens around his structured cheeks, plush lips turning up in a smile. Extending the vape to her, she contentedly takes it. 

          “Something like that. I knew it was going to be long and boring, but that in their is worse than watching paint dry.” He explains watching as I take a drag off the vape. His eyes fixates on my glossy lips, the ghost cloud floating into my nose, before I release the cloud back out on his face. The soft smile doesn’t falter in his features as it does. 

          “It’s so boring I got drunk...on accident.” I add, earning his chuckle. He shrugs his shoulders in a way to say ‘I feel that’. The crowd clapped loudly gaining their attention as all of the theatre winners stood on stage receiving the applauds. I look back at him, his long, shiny hair falls over his forehead until he combs a hand through it to push it back. “You know, honestly speaking–thanks to the cheap champagne–I will confess, you’re the most intimidating person I’ve met. And I’ve met...menaced people.” He quirks a perfectly shaped eyebrow at her. 

          “Well without alcohol I can say the same about you.” I raise my eyebrows at the newfound information. I thought I was transparent: I smile at everyone I pass, and social when needed. “You just carry yourself in a way that I see through that sweet, school-girl façade. As cliché as it sounds, there’s more to you that you let on.” He mirrors my reaction as I tilt my head with a smirk, interested by his explanation. 

Before she was able to reply, a professor of there’s, headed to the bathroom—sees them, “Connor, Danielle, will you make your way back to your seats please. We don’t want to gather a social group back here.” Connor and I straighten up like seized burglars. I nod my head, peaking over to Connor swiftly, to see him still holding the smirk. 

The ceremony continues as we returned to our seats. They were several awards into the Television portion, I peered over to see Alex collected a couple of the “objectifying” awards. As though feeling my gaze, she looks at me, rolling her eyes with an expression that mentally says “shut up”. I giggle blowing a kiss. 

          “And the Kelly Hollywood Television ‘best journalist’ award, this student showed diligence, dedication and always a jovial attitude in whatever she does, the award goes to...Alexandra Smith!” 

Everyone applauded, but I went out of the way to stand, cheering loudly as she narrowed her eyes at me on her way up to the stage. 

         “That’s my bit—girl!” I chirp correcting myself before I acted my true—goofy—self. I could tell I gained eyes from my peripheral while I pestered my bestie, but Connor’s gaze was most capturing, as they scanned down my legs, over my butt, and up till they reached to meet mine. I blushed looking off, pulling my dress down again as I sat again. 

The filming and photography starts as our professors did their introductions to the different categories. I sober up immediately as names began to get called for different awards. Connor earned three awards off of his photography, and I one. In the film-focused subjects I managed to be chosen for three awards. After grabbing my third award, I take a seat back at the table. Glancing over at Connor, he leaned back in his chair relaxed, one elbow is placed on the table, face leaning on it with his finger tapping at his pink lips. He gives a subjective smirk when our eyes meet, making me question the reason behind it. But I divert my attention as they go into discussing the film of the year. 

          “This year has been one full of ups and downs, rewards and disgraces, but what matters is at the end of the day all of you have made the staff, and UCLA extremely proud. The Film of the Year is an award granted to us by alumni, actor and filmmaker, Nicolas Cage. With the accomplishments he has, he wanted to pay tribute back to the School of Film, by allowing the winner to display their talents in a publication with the Cage Network.” Students all around erupt into whispers. Most coming from theatre and television side, who commented how they weren’t given this opportunity.

Sucks to suck. I thought giggling internally.

          “We will now play a snippet of all of the nominees.” The first few videos were executed well, very worthy of the award. Connor’s video comes on now, gaining everyone’s attention instantly by its electrifying music and vibrant effects just from the start. As his went off a few of his friends cheered for him, he sends playful winks to them before looking over at me. Ignoring him, I continue watching as my film shows. 

Nerves rumbled my stomach, the sudden doubt of the turnout on my film clouding my mind as I watched, critiquing it even in its published form. 

Finishing out the rest of the nominees, the screen went black and attention was back on the professor Knox. “All of the films were impeccable, the decision was extremely hard to make, so hard that we have a two-way tie,” we all commenced in disappointed-confused-chatter, “these two films chosen were remarkable, we deliberated indepthly on the scores and grading but they were identical in it’s punctuality and creativity.The winners are…” 

For a moment all sound mutes, only the echoing voice of professor Knox could be heard as he says, “Connor Brashier and Danielle Golding!” It felt like slow motion the way I slowly whipped my head to Connor. He wore a content smile, scooting out of his seat to go accept the award. Blinking back into the reality of things, I pushed out of my chair as well. 

My wide eyes flash to Alex as she’s practically yelling, “that’s my girlfriend!” She earned a few quizzical frowns, causing me to chuckle. 

Still baffled by the choice, I took my spot beside Connor as Knox commanded the rest of the award-winners to come up on stage. Connor and I held the award together, his fingertips pressed against mine as we pushed closer together to fit into the group photo. 

The president said his ending message, concluding the event. Loud chatter drowned out the music playing in the background as everyone regrouped with their people. 

As I made my way to Alex, people stopped to congratulate me, I bowed my head in gratitude, genuinely stunned at all my winnings. I knew I said I wanted to win every category I was in, but I still expected a few awards, not this many. And let me not forget to mention, I’m one step closer to the breakout I needed from winning this award...even if I was partnering on it. 

          “Congratulations biiitch!” Alex yells, an adult walking by scolds her language as soon as it came out. I guffawed nearly dropping all the awards. 

          “Congratulations to you, Ms. objectify our talents and in an attic somewhere.” I mock earning a slap to my bare arm. Playfully wincing, I continued laughing until her face went straight, a soft smirk replacing, her eyes directed to something-or-one behind me. Turning, Connor—and a crowd mixed of giggling girls and ‘star struck’ guys—stood holding the film reel trophy. 

          “I gotta say, that wasn’t the outcome I expected.” Before I respond, I look at Alex, who already knew what to do. She takes my awards informing she was going to take them to the car. 

Facing Connor now, I cross my arms over my chest and give him a quizzical smile, “what outcome were you expecting then?”

He shrugs his shoulders, “for you to win alone, I mean for an actual cinematographer, I’m grateful they found my film great, but you rightfully deserve it.” He acknowledge, extending it out towards me. 

          “I’m a videographer, so, I agree. But I can’t take away from your talents, it really was a tie breaking situation.” I assured with a subtle shrug, pushing the trophy back to him.

          “Connor, Danielle, can I take a photo of you guys?” The journalist asks. All work and no play around here, I guess. I think to myself until the feel of Connor’s hand snakes around my side, delicate and cautious as though I was going to break under his touch. He rested it right at the small of my back. An electrifying feeling coursed my body at the touch. I scooted closer to him, taking in his cologne I got a whiff of earlier this evening. Wrapping my arm around his waist, I tilted my head just enough it nearly leaned against his shoulder. Smiling, the picture was taken and the journalist walks off after thanking us. 

Before Connor release me, he leans his head down close enough that his lips brush the top of my ear. “Think about it, we can be taking pictures just like this on a red carpet someday.” And with that he releases me and sinks into the waiting crowd, engulfing himself in conversation with them. Not leaving me the chance to respond. 

And so I did, I thought about the red carpet pictures, and the bright lights. How I could be famous from my work one day—not that it was my reasoning for doing this, but it wouldn’t hurt to be noted for my hard work—I never thought I would be doing it with him, Connor Brashier, a guy that, before tonight, didn’t how he sounded when he talked.  But I guess if I’m going to be taking pictures with someone, he’s a good pick. I mean, he is easy on the eyes. 

Overtime, people leave, conversation dies down and the clean up crew makes their way in. I stood in the foyer lost in discussion with professor Knox as he told me the details of what was to come for the project. There were minor changes that needed to be made since it was the two of us, but the overall objective still remained the same. 

          “As brilliant as you two are behind a camera, I’m sure everything will succeed ultimately. We weren’t torn between you for no reason. You two bring the most publicity to our part of the school with what you put out. If you guys manage to have good chemistry, there will be a rule of awakening in the world of film.” His words struck me, the amount of confidence he, and apparently the rest of the staff, had in Connor and I. I would have never expected it.

He exits out of the building leaving me with my whirlwind of thoughts. I don’t know Connor. Sure, I’ve worked on mini projects with him, but they required little to no interaction–to add it was a year ago when we did that project. 

This was an entirely different echelon of work. This wasn’t a mere grade, this was meant to provoke feeling into the public, draw their attention and want more. We were basically selling ourselves to the world. 

Still lost in thought, I don’t notice, until the familiar scent fills my nose that Connor also entered the foyer. He was alone–for once–and his hands were tucked away in his pockets his doe-eyes and solemn porcelain face, it always seem as though he was mad, but his lips displayed a smile that decreased that idea. 

         “I don’t know you, and I know you don’t know me, but my gut is telling me this will be a great hit for us both.” Connor moves closer, but stays a safe proximity away as his eyes bore into hers. 

I’m not easy to fall for a pretty set of eyes, and a tempting set of lips but I think I met my match as I feel stuck for words. Clearing my throat I turn away from high slightly, “you think so huh?” 

          “For sure, I’m not trying to sound psychological, but you have an open mind, and a keen sense for capturing things in its raw form. You can’t make that. That’s natural.” 

          “Okay Dr. Brashier.” I flirt, watching his teeth bite into his bottom lip. “Well needless to say, with this project you’ll probably find out that side I don’t let on.” I lower my voice, lightly trailing a finger on his arm. 

          “Danielle.” Alex says at the door, almost on cue. 

Connor shutters, licking his lips as I walk away, keeping my eyes trained on him. “See ya soon.” I whisper at last. 

          “You are honestly too much.” Alex mutters once we’re in the car. 

Batting my eyes innocently I look at her, “what are you talking about?” 

          “Don’t hurt that boy, he seems so innocent.” 

Feigning offense, I purse my lips. “I’m only going to do what he allows, life doesn’t throw bubble wrap lemons at us right?” 

Alex glares at me, “bitch what?” 

           “Exactly.” I say final, knowing I was talking out of my ass, but I did mean what I said. I’m not here to hurt, but he knows what he can and can’t handle. This project could do either one.

—

I honestly planned to make this a one part imagine but now I’m leaning more towards a fic [and depending on if you guys like it I definitely will]. I haven’t thought the plot through completely though so...yeah. Hope you enjoyed this Connor!InASuit content (because I know I enjoy Connor in a suit, no matter how long ago it was). More to come :)

Request can be made here :)

[writingsofmyimagination]

Restrain Ch.3

Yoongi x Reader, 

Genre: Vampire AU, smut, angsty

Warnings: Swearing, SMUT(YAY!)(oral f recieving).

Word Count:2885

Summary: As Jungkooks best friend recently moved to Seoul, there is one of the boys you have yet to meet. This one has a dark secret and has to use all the restraint he can to control himself around you.

My first BTS fanfiction :) happy reading Armys! Remember to reblog, comments always welcome :)

Part One | Part Two | check out my masterlist for other parts :)

Wasn’t 100% confident with this chapter but I got everything in I wanted :)

Your alarm dragged you into a conscious state at 8:30, your whole being groaned and sighed it’s reluctance as you sat up wearily soothing your throbbing throat with your hands. Navigating yourself through the obstacle course of boxes and bags to the bathroom and visually clarified the damage. A line of deep purple caused a heavy sigh at the inconvenience of trying to manage a cover up operation. You acknowledged that you were well and truly mental pulling over your teal loose workout vest suiting up for a run but after last night you needed to burn energy. You rummaged around one of the boxes for your black neck warmer which matched your running shorts that definitely teetered on the shorter side. Setting your fitness tracker up a knock at the door intruded the quiet of the living room.Your mouth fell open speechless at the visitor before you, Yoongi in black ripped skinny jeans pooling at his ankles over plain black converse. A large fitting white tee scooping deliciously round his neck teasing the top of his pale pecks; the look was finished with a long black coat with a fluffy hood. A penitent expression crossing his face overriding his sweet smile as he pulled up a cup holder offering two cups of steaming coffee.

“Peace offering? I feel like I owe you an explanation for last night and I wanted to see how you were” as deep as his voice was he could certainly speak softly. The fact his eyes took all of you in pleasingly did not go unnoticed by you but you did well to hide your knowing expression.

“Sure” You smiled back reassuringly, you will never turn down coffee especially when it’s offered by the guy in front of you. You stepped aside and motioned him in but he did not follow, he stayed still and a one sided smirk grew on his face.

“Oh sorry, come on in”

“Still unpacking?” Yoongi remarked taking in the chaos of the living area stepping inside.

“Yep, it’s never-ending” you sighed “Sorry please take a seat” you hurried over and moved a box from the table to join a stack where your sofa will be going if it ever arrives.

“Jungkook told me your favourite” handing you the cup of energy, the heat was pleasant, warming your fingertips and the smell uplifted your weariness.

“Thanks, you really didn’t have to” Yoongi took up the seat furthest away from the kitchen side you were leant up against. You had both hands wrapped round the cup sipping appreciatively becoming slightly more self-conscious of your outfit, even Yoongi seemed to be avoiding looking at you and focusing solely on his coffee.

“How is your err neck?” He asked timidly indicating your neck warmer.

“Looks how it feels” you stated pulling the neck warmer down, curiously you touched it and it became less sore with each tap. “What the?” you exclaimed and hurriedly headed to the bathroom mirror only to see it the bruise completely fizzle away before your eyes.

“It’s gone, just disappeared, it was a raging bruise when I woke up” words stumbling out as your brain struggled to process the last few moments. You realised that in your confusion Yoongi was motionless, nursing a devilish smirk. In that moment you remembered what he was and realised what he’d most likely put in your coffee and that thought reflected on your face. You opened your mouth to speak but he beat you to it

“I couldn’t not help, I didn’t know how you’d react if I asked. I’m sorry but not really” His posture had gone from open to retreating as far back as he could in the chair waiting for a rebuff; that you refused to give him.

“Well thank you, I guess but next time you want to do anything with your bodily fluids ask next time!” You raced your hand over your mouth to shroud the giggle that came out of your mouth, your eyes on the other hand conveyed shock and embarrassment. “That came out so inappropriately, I’m sorry” Yoongi exhaled a silent laugh

“It did a bit but also noted” The silent laugh nicely converted into a small chuckle.

“So your explanation?” you quizzed wanting to move away from any more embarrassing remarks. You finally took a seat next to him and once again had to watch him shuffle uncomfortably. “Right” he cleared his throat “So I don’t really feel in control around you and it’s kind of freaking me out, I’ve only felt like this when I was newly turned” This weight dragged round his neck lowering his head and eyes towards the floor.

“oh, why?” your curiosity teased but  your hope of any type of friendship with this guy were squashed by his words.  .

“You err” he paused unable to my gaze for more than a second.

“What?” you pushed, he fidgeted.

“You just smell so amazing” the red flecks danced in his eyes as he continued “it’s so inviting, delectably sweet and with each heart beat I get a fresh rush. Like fresh cookie smell every second” He was speaking faster now, his face a strange contortion of excitement and shame. “It’s infuriating, I want nothing more than to be all over you but when I’m close, Christ even in the same room as you I feel ‘that’ side of me clawing to act and I don’t know how far my restraint can go” You wanted nothing more than to go over and hug this tortured soul but given what he’d just told you you remained.

“Would it help if you like you know tasted? and take away the whole not knowing and forbidden fruit vibe?” Even you were surprised that those words tumbled fearlessly out your mouth. His reaction mimicked yours, looking like a deer in headlights before it merged into admiration.

“That’s probably not a good idea, I mean I’ve not had human blood for such a long time and if it tastes anything like it smells. How can you trust me when even I can’t?”

“But all that bullshit aside would it help? and then you can stop acting so weird around me. Answer yes or no” you demanded still no inhibitions on your part. He twiddled his coffee cup back and forth in thought.

“Well I mean if I know I can control it then yeah maybe” He began sounding more and more unsure of himself and you couldn’t help but find it adorable.

“okay, sorted then. So where’s your favourite erm drinking place?” you toyed and leaned closer to him.

“It’s not that simple..” his hand went to rub the back of his neck before looking at you giving him a look to continue

“Come on say it”

“Thighs” He said sheepishly but not without a quick simpering look as he knew your heart jumped at the thought.

“oh”

“Yeah, that’s why it’s not simple, blood and sex are often mixed, or generally if you get one it kind of makes you needy for the other one.”

“Well I’m not having sex with you” You blurted out way too quickly with as much conviction as you could telling yourself you’d not thought it. The glint you caught of his eyes told you he saw right through your façade. You were grateful he didn’t call you out on it.

“Wrist is fine, you’re not going to let me talk you out of this are you?” Yoongi offering and hoping you’d reconsider.

“Will it leave marks?” you asked completely avoiding his question.

“Not if you don’t want, I can heal you remember. Are you really sure about this Y/N?” You gave your wrist across the table without skipping a beat. “We’d probably be better on the bed” He reacted to your exaggerated ‘really’ face instantly. “Hey, I’ve been put my place regarding my bodily fluids. It would just be more comfortable for you and on the off chance you pass out”  You pondered this for a beat

“makes sense, come on then” you jump up bubbly as ever considering you’d just agreed, no offered to let a vampire feed off you. You finished the final long sip of your coffee and headed to your room. Each step turned up the dial of apprehension which finally decided to kick in; there was also an impenitent surge of excitement which also dialled up and trickled warmly to your stomach and between your legs. Honestly Y/N where’s your control he’s only going drink you not fuck you. Even though you know full well you’d let him.

“You don’t need an invitation for separate rooms do you?” you quipped, observing him slip out of his coat. Yoongi’s feelings were running rampant through his system, he was wary of your safety but the thought of being so close to you had his blood running hot and re-routing to other body parts which he detested he had to control. His biological thirst for human blood was undeniable, he couldn’t ignore the ache it caused in his upper jaw and stomach, it was verging on painful. When he entered the room you were legs crossed on the bed, amusingly watching him take in further chaos which extended to the bedroom.

“What? I wasn’t exactly expecting guys in my room so soon” you jested.

“So soon?” he repeated questionably. “No it’s not that” he paused thoughtfully “I just can’t decide if you’re fearlessly amazing or just insane”

“Can’t someone be both” you bounced straight back, you couldn’t help but smile back at that gummy smile.

“Have you got any more silver? I’d like you to hold some, just in case. And I want you to pick a safe word” The seriousness of his tone suffocated any playfulness that was left in the room. You leaned over to your draw and wrapped another necklace around you right hand and returned to your original position

“I’ll go with ….Rain”. You offered your wrist back to him and this time he took it. The moment your skin touched you felt every molecule of you pull desperately in his direction. He bent forward and touched his lips to your wrist and paused, his pupils began dilating into oceans and his breathing quickened as he breathed in your very essence including the warmth between your legs

“Do you trust me?” he breathed, the warm breath unfurling over my skin sending goose bumps radiating over your skin.

Yes” you said breathily. Before you could take another breath or even blink you’d been pushed up on the bed wrists pinned roughly. The first sound you mustered was a relieved yet flustered moan as his knee pressed firmly in between your legs; you greedily began rolling your hips onto him.

“You have no idea what you do to me” he growled hungrily into your ear. You had no time to respond or react before his mouth was slammed into yours begging for access which you granted fully, the warmth of his tongue whirling around in sync with yours had your insides spinning chaotically. He left your mouth and knocked your head to the side exposing your neck. Your breathing hitched as your brain sent a panicked signal to your heart; you were pinned with no way of utilising the silver. As if your heart had screamed directly at Yoongi his grip ceased on your right wrist; that told you everything you needed to know and that you could trust him whole heartedly. You let the silver trickle through your fingertips and drop to the floor with all of your doubts. His nose traced your neck as he took in your scent and the sound of your blood rushing through your jugular singing to him. He couldn’t stop his fangs from protruding any more, your free hand tangled through the back of his hair pulling a moan from his lips before the left a delicate kiss on your collarbone. The hand that wasn’t pinning you was lavishing every bit of your soft skin he could attain under your shirt, you were a writhing mess beneath him and he’s hardly done anything and you were soaked. You craved so much more than just grinding onto him. The outer ring of his pupils almost glowed with a red haze above his wicked grin as he teased slowly at your waistband. He ran his fingers through your arousal dragging deep moans from both of you

“All this” he pauses gliding his fingers through you again “Smells intoxicating I need to taste you” The smirk that followed was so animalistic that even the flash and sight of his fangs made no difference to his predatory expression. While heavily kissing you again, you gripped his hair and pulled him away “You can taste me from your favourite spot” you managed in between pants, a guttural sound which can only be described as a purr passed his lips, but fuck it was sexy.

Within a beat his head was between your legs, one hand holding your hips down the other moving your shorts and underwear to the side. The smell of your arousal combined with your blood pulsating around his ears was almost unbearable. He almost couldn’t decide what to taste first, but the blood always wins especially smelling like yours. The doubt of his restraint now prominent in his mind did nothing to hinder the overwhelming excitement fizzing through him as his fangs pierced your inner thigh while simultaneously thrusting his fingers inside you.

“Fuck” you cried arching your back, gripping the sheets before switching to his hair. The pain pleasure cocktail ravaged your senses; the blood flowing down his throat satiated a hunger he’d long forgotten he had. Yoongi knew he was in trouble the moment your blood past his lips, It hit his system like heroin and he needed to have you in every way. The sounds of your moans as his fingers blissfully began to build a knot inside you; he needed to hear as often as he could humanly make you.

♪ Lupe Fiasco – Jump ♪ crisply joined your moans

He detached his lips from your thigh, your face wrinkled as you winced slightly. His lips littered with your blood with a small drop escaping from the corner of his mouth “Fucking seriously” he seethed pulling his fingers from your leaving you feeling empty and needy. He sat back and licked all traces of you off his lips and his fingers just as needy. His pupils were almost fully filling his eyes but they began to deflate as he answered the phone from his pocket “What……. “Shit! Sorry yeah I lost track of time I’ll be right there” Burying his phone back into his pocket, regret pouring from his eyes. Before Yoongi explained anything he leant back down pushing your underwear and shorts aside once more and pressed his tongue to your throbbing bundle of nerves and sucked gently “Ahh” you breathed pushing down onto his tongue. Yoongi preceded to lap up your arousal with the tip of his tongue tracing all the way down teasing your entrance. You pouted when he sat back up “I really have to go even though you taste astounding, I’m sorry. I promise I’ll make it up to you” He rushed, clambering of the bed

“You bloody better Min Yoongi” you breathed, finally taking control of your out of control heart rate. Yoongi offered a hand to steady yourself as you got back on your feet, light-headedness swamped you, grabbing onto his hand tightly for support until you stabilised.

“I really will I promise, and I’m damn sure going to make you beg and have you crying my name as you cum” the provocative tone itself was enough to fuel your inner heat even more. He paused as he helped you onto your feet enjoying your surprised face at his bluntness. It quickly diffused into an agreeable response with you toying with your bottom lip “and it’ll be more than once” he promised.

“But don’t you dare touch yourself while I’m gone” He warned red flashing in his eyes in agreeance. “I’ll know”.

“What? How?” you half shouted after him but it was too late he was already gone. This super speed stuff was getting irritating. Your phone buzzed, the vibration reverberating of the dinner table.

         [Yoongi 10:00am] To answer your question, with the blood I’ve had I have an all access pass to sense and feel your emotions, so if you cum I’ll know and you’ll be in big trouble, I need to finish what I started. I’ll message as soon as I’m done at practice. Please make sure you eat plenty today and rest.

You couldn’t help but be curious what being in trouble with Yoongi would entail, grinning hugely at your phone screen.

        [Y/N 10:03am] I can’t decide if that’s a really creepy or cool ability. What kind of trouble exactly? ;). I have plenty of unpacking to be getting on with so I think I’ll be able to remain a good girl. I’m not the one with apparent dangerous restraint issues. Have a good practice talk soon, don’t think about how amazing I taste too much 😂.

Now more than ever you needed that run and a very vital cold shower.

[udnursingsa2019]

Final Blog

As I sit on the plane at 4AM eating my Aero bar (a South African delicacy), tiny moments of the last five weeks keep popping into my head. I think about entering JFK airport feeling nauseous and anxious about leaving the country for so long, seeing familiar faces but not having a clue if I would become close friends with any of them. I think about arriving to the Team House at Noordhoek and being greeted with Jeremy’s speech — he told us we could not save Africa but if we could make a difference in one person’s life, we are doing something worthwhile. I think about being apprehensive for the first clinic day expecting to feel a little lost, until I realized the sisters are some of the kindest people ever and are so willing to teach/ask for help at the same time. I think about the look of pure joy on a group of teenage girls’ faces after some peers and I taught sex/relationship-education at school — they’d always had the questions but never had the opportunity to talk to someone to get the answers, and seeing that we made some of that difference makes my heart warm. And I think about the town Soweto, and a celebration between two different cultures as we sat in a circle with local adults and had a productive conversation about the effects of apartheid and global politics, and afterwards we had a dance party. It’s that “connected” feeling that makes me think we have been making positive impacts on the people we’ve met because the people of South Africa have absolutely touched our hearts forever. Many of them live by the phrase “Ubuntu” which means “I am because we are” — they learned it from the animals who work together as packs — I think that just shows the full circle of how Africa is the one of the best places on earth.

Our last night was difficult but cathartic and necessary. After our last delicious safari dinner we all went around in a circle and stated our roses (our favorite parts of the trip), our thorns (least favorite) and our buds (what we can grow from). Many of the roses included the community days where we bonded with people of all ages and helped out in schools or kitchens/workshops, such as the reusable pads training day where we got to work together with so many women. Others mentioned the Soweto township day or their best experience in clinical (like when Carly V. and Sara delivered a baby and placenta!), and some mentioned their favorite excursions like skydiving. Thorns were when things got emotional — sometimes it’d be something funny like treacherously hiking Table Mountain or getting a stomach bug, but others rightfully wanted to let out emotions about something they’d seen in clinical that they wish they could’ve done more for, such as the group that experienced the death of a preterm baby born at home who probably would have lived if the clinic had the appropriate resources. Other thorns included the guilt we feel when we realize how privileged many of our lives are, and the overwhelming lack of knowing what to do in response when we see how many people need help. I believe this trip made many of us second-guess our career choices and what we want to make of our lives; for certain this trip has inspired lots of us to give back more and if we can’t go back to Africa and help the people there, there are ways we can help at home. Many of us turned our thorns into buds because lots of the bad things we experience are ways to make us grow. But lots of us also mentioned for buds the friends we have made and just the beauty of the world and all the people in it, as we have seen the strength in the people of South Africa as well as the strength in each other. I have made lots of new friendships that I have no doubt will last throughout our last semester and post-graduation. Though we’re a group with a bunch of different personality traits, we bring out the best in each other and have such a fun dynamic that never gets old — I can’t count the amount of long car rides and late nights (even though we would wake up at the crack of dawn almost every day) spent talking and laughing for hours on end with my new friends. It really is so special to have these meaningful bonds during our last year as nursing students, because we need each other!

There are many people worthy of “thank you’s” and I will start with ourselves, because we were the ones who decided to apply to go to South Africa and had the courage to actually go through with it, and for me it was the best decision I’ve ever made. Thank you to my peers for making this trip so meaningful and unforgettable, through all the laughs and tears. I really am so proud of everyone for making this the best experience possible and constantly lifting each other up. And I’d also like to thank my parents and all the other parents who allowed us to go on the trip (we know it wasn’t easy) and helped out with some expenses.

I’d like to give a shout-out to our drivers, Roy and Sibusisu, who turned out to be more than drivers — they became friends. We will miss Roy’s sarcastic sense of humor and charm, and we’ll miss Sibu’s quiet, sweet presence. They are two of the most hardworking men and seriously deserve a medal for boundlessly dealing with 30 21-year-old girls!

Rowan and Bari have also been blessings to us — we wouldn’t have survived the trip if it weren’t for their constant direction, reliability and support. Rowan made sure everything went smoothly at all times and was in a tough position to be TA as a senior; we give her lots of credit for all she could help us with through her L&D/cultural knowledge and experience. Bari has been an inspiration to all of us, as she’s lived, worked and volunteered in South Africa before and we can see first-hand how wonderful of a human being she is/has become through her experiences. So thank you guys!

Lisa — thank you for making this trip happen and for being willing to take so many of us — I know it’s not easy to lug 30 students to another continent. I give you so much praise for making this trip happen year after year, building upon what you’ve learned from past trips but always introducing new ideas. You have always been someone we can look up to and this trip further proved how you truly inspire us to be the people/nurses that we want to be — not what a structured nursing program/basic American society tells us to be. You’ve taught us to follow our guts and our dreams and that life is too short to only do one kind of job in a place we don’t feel we’re thriving. You also have successfully spread the word about Mother Nature and natural childbirth — I would trust any of us to teach about or facilitate a physiologic birth and it’s all thanks to you.

And last but not least, thank you to Jeremy. When I met Jeremy, I had heard good things and he seemed nice and cool and funny, but I didn’t really think anything would come of him being there besides being our tour guide. But he was so much more than that. He became a close friend to many of us. He worked towards making this trip a life-changing, monumental experience for everyone. If it wasn’t for him, we wouldn’t be able to dig deeper and work to find the meaningful takeaways behind all the experiences we’ve had. He encouraged the group to really spend time together and support each other, because he knew we’d need it. He was a shoulder to cry on when we had a hard day, and a person to run to when we had a funny story because his laugh can just make our day. His life story and his presence are so uplifting that he’s touched each and every one of us and has inspired us all to be ourselves, make good choices that build our ultimate destiny, and cut out all negativity. Thank you for making us all better people, Jer. We truly will never forget you and can’t wait for you to come to the U.S. one day.

Now we’re all exhausted with puffy eyes from crying either last night or at the airport saying bye to Jeremy, but we’re excited to see our families.....and not quite ready to go to school in just a few days. Luckily we have a whole group of us to lift one another up during this period of post-study-abroad depression, but after a few weeks our lives will probably return to normal. So we must continue for weeks, months, years down the road to remember what it felt like to be in Africa, reflect upon the connections we built, and never forget the lessons we learned. We’re back in America, but Africa has never left us.

-       Annie Sienrukos <3 

[latestnews2018-blog]

There Were Zero Things Better This Week Than Tessa Thompson’s Earrings In ‘Sorry To Bother You’

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There Were Zero Things Better This Week Than Tessa Thompson’s Earrings In ‘Sorry To Bother You’

Welcome to Good Shit, HuffPost’s weekly recommendation series devoted to the least bad things on and off the internet. 

When Lakeith Stanfield compliments Tessa Thompson’s earrings in “Sorry to Bother You,” the camera cuts close to the ornaments framing Thompson’s face.

In quirky block letters, one earring says “MURDER MURDER MURDER,” the other says “KILL KILL KILL.” They’re the first of many audacious pairs that Thompson, playing a fiery artist-activist, wears in Boots Riley’s fantastic new movie. Others display men in electric chairs, Bob Dylan and Prince lyrics, and the apt words “WILDLY ORIGINAL” ― all accentuated by Thompson’s electric-orange curls.

As rowdy as the earrings may be, they’re one of the more grounded oddities in this surreal odyssey about race, capitalism and loud manifestos. ― Matthew Jacobs

Romelu Lukaku, A God

Watch Lukaku’s run. Drags the defender inside to create space for Meunier and then dummies it brilliantly for Chadli. Brilliant work. pic.twitter.com/RKseQLdX7q

— Jake. (@YedIin) July 2, 2018

I want you to stop, for one moment, and watch the video of this run by Romelu Lukaku, Belgium’s star striker, in the dying moments of Belgium’s 3-2 win over Japan in the World Cup’s round of 16. (In the above GIF, he’s the guy in red who starts at the bottom left of the screen.)

Lukaku, like many black soccer players, is often stereotyped as a big, strong, physical athlete whose greatness is defined by those qualities. But while he is all of those things, he’s also smart as hell when it comes to his positioning and his ability to see how a play should unfold before it does ― and then make it unfold exactly that way. This run is proof: Watch how Lukaku drags the defender nearest him toward the middle of the field to create space for the first pass. Watch how he follows that by pulling another defender in the opposite direction to create space for the next pass. And then, watch how he dummies that pass, stepping over it so that it runs to an open Nacer Chadli ― who is only open because of Lukaku ― on the far post. It’s brilliant. It’s all beautifully, mind-numbingly brilliant.

Lukaku is Belgium’s leading scorer, but he’d spent the first 89 minutes of the match against Japan failing to find the back of the net over and over again. No one would have blamed him for trying to bury that shot ― it was the last minute, the match was tied, he’s their best player, he’s there to score goals. But he knew the right play was to take the defenders out of the play completely, to let the ball run to Chadli, to let the wide open guy nail home the win instead. Romelu Lukaku is God. Also: he’s fluent in at least seven languages. He is brilliant, and I love him. ― Travis Waldron

The Charming Netflix Rom-Com That Makes Up For That Adam Sandler Movie

Listen, Netflix, I’m never going to forget that you made “The Ridiculous 6” possible, nor should I. BUT. Today I’m feeling nothing but gratitude for the proliferation of streaming-content creators, and Netflix in particular. See, I love a good, old-fashioned, stomach-flipping romantic comedy, and in this superhero-crazed environment I rarely get one as fun and unabashedly sweet as “Set It Up.” I missed it when it came out last month, but now that I’ve seen the Claire Scanlon-directed confection, I plan to watch it daily at least. 

The premise: Harper (Zoey Deutch) and Charlie (Glen Powell), the beleaguered assistants to, respectively, a hotshot sports journalist (Lucy Liu) and a venture capitalist (Taye Diggs), decide to prod their bosses into dating each other in hopes that a fresh romance will prove a distraction from work. They manufacture a relationship between their bosses ― and accidentally start to fall for each other. The movie gleefully subverts numerous rom-com tropes, like the grand running-to-the-airport gesture, while maintaining the goofy-sweet heart of a true romantic comedy. 

The cast is peppered with brilliant comedic turns ― Tituss Burgess, Meredith Hagner, Pete Davidson ― and the leads are a delight. Deutch is so winsome, I literally wished I could wear her as a skin suit, and Powell looks at her in that heart-melting way that every rom-com hero must do to win my heart. It was a bit disappointing to see the actors of color pushed, as usual, into supporting roles (of course in a rom-com about the oft-ignored assistants, it’s the assistants who are white). Here’s hoping the rumors that Lucy Liu’s character may get a sequel come true. ― Claire Fallon

This NYC Teen’s Valedictorian Speech

@StuyvesantHigh valedictorian: Find a way to diversify my school. #SHSAT #StuyAlum #MatteoWong https://t.co/g1pjCIyBxm

— Stuyvesant High (@StuyvesantHigh) June 28, 2018

The best writing I read this week came courtesy of a teenager. His name is Matteo Wong, and he is the most recent valedictorian at Stuyvesant High School, an elite New York City public high school that finds itself enmeshed in a larger battle over how (or how not) to combat racial inequality in the city.

The simple question of which students should go to which schools is an intensely emotional one for many parents, especially white ones, who have been known to yell when people propose that schools should reflect the demographic makeup of the city that surrounds them. It is widely considered an incredibly complex question as well. But that’s what makes Wong’s valedictory speech ― a version of which was published in Crain’s New York Business ― so fantastic. His writing is clear and measured, uplifting while also based on the facts.

“The problem: New York City’s best public high school is less than 4 percent black or Hispanic, demographics which compose nearly 70 percent of the city’s school-age population,” he writes. “This debate revolves around two truths. One: These statistics are unacceptable. To accept them is to buy into a racist myth of black and Hispanic inferiority that has very real, physical and psychological repercussions. To accept these demographics is to make Stuyvesant a toxic environment for black and Hispanic students. The way forward is unclear, but the status quo is broken.”

The 850-word speech, which I suggest you read in full, just gets better from there. If only adults could speak with the same level of candor. ― Maxwell Strachan 

An Incredibly Boring (And Great!) Reality TV Show

I’ve been told to watch “Terrace House,” an unassuming Japanese reality television show in which three young men and three young women live in a house together, for years, and this week the Netflix algorithm gods blessed me by finally suggesting I put it in my queue. I’m only a handful of 28-minute episodes into the show, and yet I’m already a convert. If you’re looking for a way to soothe your news-ridden, tweet-ridden, over-stimulated soul, binge your way through this series. (Parts 1 and 2 are already on Netflix, and Part 3 is being released at the end of this month.)

The weird thing about “Terrace House” is that very little happens and yet it’s completely captivating. As a consumer of American reality TV, specifically the “Bachelor” franchise, I’m primed for high drama ― big fights, lots of tears, ominous music cues, carefully produced confrontations and very little eating on camera. “Terrace House” flouts these conventions, opting instead to lean into the seemingly mundane. It makes you wonder why American shows keep trying to raise the emotional stakes of reality television when the Japanese have figured out a way to draw in audiences with no stakes at all. ― Emma Gray

Amy Adams In Anything (But This Week In “Sharp Objects”)

HBO is back with another limited series in “Sharp Objects,” based on the debut novel of author Gillian Flynn. Alongside showrunner Marti Noxon and director Jean-Marc Vallée, the “Gone Girl” scribe brings her dark crime thriller to the screen in a compelling fashion.

The always superb Amy Adams plays reporter Camille Preaker, who returns home to Wind Gap, Missouri, to cover the mysterious murders of two young girls. But it’s her own past that haunts her as she’s reunited with her overbearing mother (Patricia Clarkson) and rebellious teenage half-sister (Eliza Scanlen) in a hometown burdened with pain. It premieres Sunday at 9 p.m. ― Leigh Blickley

Bron Snow, AKA A Clash Of Kings, AKA June 19, 2016

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On Sunday, June 19, 2016, I watched on a split-screen as the Cleveland Cavaliers won Game 7 of the NBA finals and Jon Snow defeated Ramsay Bolton in the Battle of the Bastards on “Game of Thrones.” Yes, it was two years ago, but it was beautiful. The days of the Cavs championship drought and of Jon Snow making his pouty face — not because it was cool, but because his life kinda sucked ― were over.

Now, with LeBron James leaving the Cavs and “Game of Thrones” coming to an end, it’s good to remember that moment can never be taken away from us. Some of my own colleagues, who are now celebrating LeBron in LA, counted him out of that 2016 series from the start, much like many doubted the White Wolf.

But the North remembers. Cavs fans remember! We know no king but the kings in the North and Northeast Ohio. I don’t care if they’re bastards or they moved to LA ― Ned Stark’s blood and Cavs wine-and-gold run through their veins! They’re my kings from this day until their last day! ― Bill Bradley

Tina Lawson’s Instagram Account

Tina Lawson, the mother of our true saviors Beyoncé and Solange, has the Instagram feed from Heaven. But this photo of her and her man, Richard, waiting to see Smokey Robinson is the blackest thing I have seen this week. I am fucking LIVING for it. I grew up listening to Smokey Robinson because of my mama and nana. So I feel like this could be my parents and that warms my soul in a way I can’t fully explain.

Also, look at that selfie. It’s just terrible enough to be a fantastic auntie and uncle pic. I love it. I love them. I’m crying. ― Julia Craven

Comedian Kate Berlant

HBO/ANNAPURNA PICTURES/NETFLIX/GETTY/VIMEO

Remember that time Roseanne Barr shrieked the national anthem at a San Diego Padres game? That is not my recommendation for the week. My recommendation for the week is the human being who wrote a thesis on the deconstructionist milestone that was Barr’s scream-performance: Kate Berlant. (She did this in grad school, really!) 

Berlant is in the new film “Sorry to Bother You,” which according to my colleague Matt Jacobs, you should really see. But she’s also appeared in “Search Party,” “High Maintenance,” “The Characters” and “555.” She’s a prolific scene-stealer and best friends with John Early, with whom she’s apparently writing a film. I recommend it! Them! Her! ― Katherine Brooks

A ’70s Gangster Film, Why Not?

For years, I’ve been trying to track down Elaine May’s mid-’70s masterpiece “Mikey and Nicky,” starring John Cassavetes and Peter Falk as childhood friends turned low-level gangsters turned frenemies. The film, which is now streaming on Kanopy, was well worth the years of searching. It’s better than every other Netflix crime show you’ve just binged.

The premise is simple: Cassavetes’ character knows there’s a contract out on his life and calls Falk to help him out. The rest of the film concerns what Falk does with his friend’s fate during the course of one boozy, cigarette-stained night. You can see the movie’s influence all over “Goodfellas” and shows like “The Sopranos.”

But the thing that will stay with you long after the film is over are the spare scenes with the women in their lives ― the ones who take their late-night calls, their abuses and their endless, tormented need. You see it in their eyes. They know what’s up. ― Jason Cherkis

Red Shorts, Blue Shirts: A Phenomenon

We’ve uncovered an international phenomenon: Each summer, dudes across the world bust out red shorts and, after very little consideration, decide that the only fashionable pairing is a blue shirt. Two of our reporters have been documenting this for four years — but this is bigger than our circle of friends now. Prepare to have your third eye opened. We bring you the RedShortsBlueShirt Instagram page and a whole hell of a lot of red shorts-blue shirt combos. ― Andy Campbell

Kumail Nanjiani’s Cheeseburger Freakout

I still can’t stop thinking about Kumail Nanjiani’s cheeseburger-related freakout in “The Big Sick.” We’ve all been on the wrong side of a customer service issue at the exact worst moment, and watching Nanjiani channel that is perfection. He strikes just the right notes of sympathetic and ridiculously funny. It’s hard to pick a favorite moment from the scene because I loved all of it ― from his yelling “Who the fuck is we, man?” to his knocking over the trash can and then feeling bad and slowly, sadly picking it all up again. ― Anna Krakowsky

Inner Peace

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