#originally I was thinking of those hot car wash events they do sometimes

[wool-string]

Quick Doodly thing cause I kept thinking of fireman Kou who does all kinds of charity work for their station or patients from Kei’s hospital who need help

Kei being the top doctor he is thinks he’s gotta donate every time so he always ends up meeting with Kou. But I also remembered those sexy fireman charity calendars lol

[ephemeral-sorrow]

The Sweetness of Frenemic Love

Sometimes the strangest thoughts enter my head and make me write something bizarre but really touching at the same time. :D

pairing: Lilly x Male!MC

summary: It`s one step from hatred to love.

warning: a bunch of fluff  ;)

Have you ever experienced resentment towards someone you`ve never met in real life? 

Felt irritation and anger bubble up inside your head like lava slowly filling the volcano to the brim, almost turning your eyes into two sizzling hot coals? 

Lilly had been familiar with these disgusting sensations even before she got to knew MC - the obnoxious stranger Hannah sent her number to and the one who managed to infiltrate their group and spread insurgency among everyone and everything around. Her sister`s disappearance ruined their peaceful lives, putting Lilly and her parents into huge stress, when each day with news even more horrible than on previous one, took away all their hope. So, to conclude it all, a completely unknown weirdo, who gained access to different sorts of information as well as trust of her blindly oblivious friends, now was sticking his nose into other people`s business without pangs of conscience.

The way things were progressing kept Lilly infuriated and incredibly... depressed. She refused to admit that to herself, but she was even angrier because of her own helplessness. She wanted to do something useful and finally get a clue that might come in handy or at least set things up so that the investigation would be faster and more efficient. However, guys from the group already had their own theories, sources and clues, took part in various events and furthermore, acted carelessly, not paying attention to threats.  ... They made it clear that Lilly`s advice was pointless, just like her participation.

That`s why the mere thought of some stranger doing more for Hannah than her family made something snap inside, clouding Lilly`s judgement and true character with boundless spite. Not to mention, pure fear engulfed her at the suggestion that MC may be the real culprit, and here, cards played so flawlessly right into his hands...

                                                       *     *     *

Now it was a completely different story, and it was kind of hard to believe that was how she used to think of him only a year ago. A lot happened, making those restless days seem like a distant memory or rather a thrilling movie, characters of which were another people, portrayed in another places and time.

“So, what do you make of my new car?”

Lilly blinked, snapping out of her flooding thoughts and returned her attention to the cup of chocolate icecream with gente, pink frosting before her -  and finally, stared at the rest of the group, that made themselves comfortable at the cafe table. Today was the celebration on account of Dan`s grandiose purchase - dashing, brand new Audi A3 model. It costed him a fortune but didn`t lessen his enthusiasm nor pride(having exited the hospital as soon as possible, he spent a great deal of effort in finding a good job AND cutting down on alcohol). As a result, every time he ordered apple juice at the Rainbow cafe he declared: “Cool dudes drink only juice!”.

“Dan, that was the hundredth time you`ve asked this question”, despite the fake bored tone, Cleo wore an amused smile, dropping her usual strictness.

“What can I possibly do when all of you are so short-spoken?” Dan dramatically leaned back on the soft cushion. “I need details. Not talking about this pretty girl is a sacrilege”.

“If she was mine, I`d call her ‘babe’ “, ice cubes softly clincked against the glass, as Richy thoughtfully twisted his cocktail in his hand. “And the quiet purrs of her engine are the same as a hearbeat--”

“Now, now, you`re just being ridiculous!” Hannah`s melodic laugh ringed before drowning in the chatter of the crowded cafe. Lilly`s insides warmed up upon seeing her sister smiling sweetly in the Thomas` embrace. She was safe and sound, cheerful and full of love for the surrounding world. Everything was back to normal and it made Lilly genuinely happy--

She felt hot breath pleasantly tickle her ear before a crisp, familiar voice sensually whispered to her:

“I don`t know about others, but if you asked me, the only ‘babe’ I see is you”.

Lilly couldn`t really help the flush that spread on her neck, so she coughed, pretending to be extremely interested in her icecream, which was already starting to melt.

She casted a quick glance at the man beside her, attempting to look unfazed by his sudden compliment only to be met with his mischievous, affectionate eyes.

“MC, we`re... we`re in public”, she whispered back rather shyly.

“You were kind of dreamy while looking at Thomas and Hannah, so I decided to remind you that you didn`t come here alone”.

“Hmph”, Lilly pouted, fixing the fallen lock of her hair. “as if I need your tasteless remarks to cheer up. You should come up with something more original”.

MC laughed airily, flashing his signature confident smirk. Lilly took a small breath, furrowed her delicate brows and turned away stubbornly, turning a deeper shade of red. She didn`t like her heart clenching bittersweetly at his actions, especially in front of her unsuspecting friends. It was difficult to keep a perfectly composed face.

“I`ll cook you Peking meat by my special receipt tonight”, MC continued as if nothing had happened, absentmindedly observing the lively conversation between Jessy, Dan and Thomas, and how Cleo was showing Hannah something on the phone.

“I’ll take it as an invitation to your house?” Lilly inquired. “Why are you so sure I`m going to accept it?”

“Oh please, sweetie, do you want me to list all reasons in front of so many people?” His expression was calm and serious, but Donfort knew better: he was mercilessly teasing her, not caring about precautions at all.

Lilly hit his leg under the table, earning a triumphant ‘ouch’ in response.

                                                     *     *     *

Later that evening at his place, after having had a fair piece of the most delicious meat she has ever eaten, Lilly was helping MC to wash the dishes, drying the shiny plates with a cloth and placing them into the cupboard. He was mumbling a delightful tune under his breath. She glanced at his features. Somehow simply being with this person made her forget about all troubles. But what about him?

“MC”, Lilly tried to sound not too curious. 

“Yes?”

“Why did you choose me of all girls? I mean... I`ve never thought that you might become interested in me after what I did to you a year ago with that video and vote. Like in person, let alone a woman. You`ve been best friends with Jessy from the start, so it would`ve been logical if you two have had a thing”.

“To be honest with you, your brother said the same”, he smiled with the corners of his mouth. “What I found in you”.

“Excuse me, what!?” the girl exploded with outrage, dropping the cloth out of surprise. “Jake, that little jerk!! He`s supposed to back me up in situations like this!”

MC was holding his laughter for his dear life or he would inevitably get a handful but frankly, it was getting harder.

“What did you reply? Come on, I want to know!!” Lilly was worried and frustrated at the same time, looking at him impatiently and expectantly, like a little kid who desired to know their present for birthday.

“You seem so desperate-- HAHAHA, I CAN`T!”

Lilly groaned and threw a sponge at him on full speed, not bothering that it was still wet and full of soap. What was so funny when all she wanted to hear was these important words of confirmation?

MC cleaned his face and came closer.

“I replied that you`re the one who understands me. The one who always makes my day brighter. Also you are kind and candid”, his palm rested against her cheek, tenderly caressing it, as she leaned for his touch.

“I can often be impulsive and sharp”.

“That doesn`t make you worse. You always speak your mind. I think it`s admirable. Not to mention, you are a truly charming and elegant woman”.

She didn`t let MC finish his sentence because their lips collided in a soft, albeit passionate manner. Lilly lived up to her statement - this kiss was spontaneous and full of feeling. She traced his wide shoulders, stopping when her hands found their place in his unruly hair, slightly tugging at it. 

They parted once they ran out of air.

“Jake additionally said my romantic confession would lead to this”.

“Ugh, you`re terrible!!”

[sockparade]

tips for surviving the pandemic: things i learned from my immigrant parents

It’s hard to believe that it’s only been a little over a week since the WHO announced that the coronavirus (COVID-19) was officially a pandemic. This has been a long, challenging week for a lot of people and it is nothing short of terrifying to read reports of what is happening in Asia and Europe as many predict that we’ll likely endure a similar fate here in the United States. In the midst of all of this chaos and uncertainty, I’ve been reminded of so many lessons that my Taiwanese immigrant parents taught me. I’m sharing them here so that others might also benefit. Thanks Ma. Thanks Daddy.

你昨天已經出去了.

“You already went out yesterday.“

1. Learn how to stay home. Our family is eight days into self-isolating at home and Tony asked me this morning if I had cabin fever. And strangely, the answer is no. I’m not. Not to downplay the difficulty of this moment but my experience with this “shelter-in-place” ordinance reminds of pretty much all my summers between kindergarten and 8th grade. Both of my parents worked full-time so summer was just three blissful months of nothing. No structure, no plans, no camps, no playdates, and no responsibilities. My parents never made me feel like I was missing a thing by staying home and I don’t remember ever feeling bored. There were always library books to read, stories to write, and thoughts to journal. Hours were spent playing school with my big sister (now a first grade teacher!), making up random games like who can avoid touching the carpet longest, learning Kim Zmeskal’s latest gymnastics floor routine, writing lyrics to Kenny G saxophone solos, and rehearsing for our variety show that we would perform to our tired parents at the end of the day. And that’s not even including the hours we spent watching The Price is Right, CHIPS, Knight Rider, and Airwolf (yep, no cable).   

As a teenager I carefully plotted all my hangouts with friends so that I didn’t have too many consecutive days when I was out of the house. Whenever I asked my parents if I could hang out with friends, they would always say, “But you already went out yesterday. What’s wrong with staying home? Why do you always have to go out?” It was as if having too much fun two days in a row was off limits. If there was a big party on Friday, I would purposely make sure I stayed home Wednesday and Thursday just to increase the chances of being able to go out on Friday. I know a lot of people talk about how awful their high school years were but I was one of those lucky kids who had a really great group of friends that made me feel seen, loved, and cared for. The downside was that I couldn’t get enough of it. I was always thinking about the next hangout, the next event, the next thing. It took me all the way until my late twenties to fully appreciate the fine art of staying home and to finish my unexpected transformation into the expert homebody that I am today. 

I’m reminded of that old quote by Blaise Pascal, “All of humanity's problems stem from man's inability to sit quietly in a room alone." 

It’s great to be out and about, but it’s also really important to learn how to stay home.  

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晚上要吃什麼？清冰箱.

“What are we eating for dinner?” “Cleaning the fridge.”

2. Be creative with what you have. I love food. Not in a foodie sense, but I get a lot of pleasure out of eating. I’m not a food snob by any stretch of the imagination. I thoroughly enjoy a Stouffer’s frozen lasagna or a peanut butter and jelly sandwich as much as I enjoy a fancy, inventive, Michelin-starred meal at Commis. What’s hard for me is when food is eaten as sustenance rather than with delight. But my parents taught me that you can always take pride in preparing a meal. No matter your ingredients.

My mom is an excellent cook. I know a lot of people think their mom is a good cook but my mom is legitimately skilled in the kitchen. There were some nights when I’d ask what was for dinner and my mom would just reply, “Cleaning the fridge.” 

Now for some, this might sound terrifying. But my mom could honestly make something out of nothing. I still crave my dad’s simple egg and garlic fried rice. My parents raised me to be able to make an tasty meal just from rummaging in the pantry and fridge for random leftover things. There were plenty of summers where lunches and snacks were an individual culinary adventure for each of us kids. I still remember the day I witnessed my baby sister add a Kraft single on top of her onion ramen noodles. She saw my confusion, shrugged and said, “You should try it, it’s good.” 

With all the hoarding folks have been doing during this pandemic, I’ve found myself feeling quite anxious. Trying to calculate if we have enough food. Estimating how many more meals we can eat at home before we need to make another grocery run. As someone who struggles with a scarcity mentality it has been hard not to panic. But then I keep reminding myself that I know how to make good food using just whatever’s available. 

You know, I was pretty disappointed with Mary H.K. Choi’s second novel, Permanent Record, given how much I enjoyed her debut novel, Emergency Contact. But I was absolutely thrilled with the shine she gave to what her protagonist calls “Hot Snacks”.

Here’s an excerpt from Permanent Record that is a beautiful ode to creative food mashups and immigrant kids everywhere: 

“I edit and post a Shin Ramyun Black video set to music. My favorite instant noodles with three flavor packets and so much garlic. It’s a classic Korean HotSnack, especially when you throw in cut-up hot dogs, frozen dumplings, extra kimchi - and this is where the artistry comes in- eggs, cheese, corn from a can, and a drizzle of sesame oil on top. And furikake if you’re feeling wealthy. The next night I put up a bacon, egg, and cheese not in a bagel but in a glazed honey bun. Laced with sriracha and pan fried on the outside. Then it’s chilaquiles with Spicy Sweet Chili Doritos and chorizo. Jamaican beef patty casserole disrespected with a smothering of Japanese curry and broiled. With Crystal Hot Sauce over the top and pickled banana peppers. I’m trolling with that one but the controversy is berserk. When I run out of old videos, I make saag paneer naanchos with Trader Joe’s frozen Indian food, and it’s a hit. Especially when I add yogurt and a thick layer of crushed-up Takis on top.”

______________________________________________

看連續劇.

“Watch soap operas.” 

3. Find a way to escape. I’m generally pro technology but I’ll admit I’m a little bummed at the way iPhones and iPads have made TV viewing such an individual activity. I like how Disney+ has gotten some families back to watching TV together again. Although I will say, we really coddle our kids these days. I grew up in a time when movie ratings only applied in the theaters and we watched movies with our families like Alien, The Fly, and Gremlins. We were scared out of our minds and sometimes could only watch through the cracks between our fingers covering our eyes because it was so scary. Okay, this also might be why I can’t watch horror movies as an adult. 

From a young age, my parents taught me that watching other people’s drama unfold on screen is one of the best way to escape your own drama. Some people say binge watching became a thing when the TV networks started releasing shows on DVD. Others give credit to Netflix releasing their original content a whole season at a time. But truth be told, I first learned how to binge watch from my parents. 

We would rent 30-40 VHS cassette tapes from that random spot in Bellaire Chinatown. Can you picture it? You needed multiple plastic bags to transport that many VHS tapes. 

Do you remember the one about the dying mother who needed to find homes for each of her 7 children? I don’t think it’s normal for a 10 year old to cry so much but you better believe it’s made me learn the true value of a soap opera escape hatch. 

Are you in a pandemic? Now’s the perfect time to pick up that YA novel, binge that reality show, start that kdrama, or rewatch all six seasons of The Sopranos again.

______________________________________________

下個禮拜會下雨.

“It’s going to rain next week.”

4. Be informed about what’s ahead. If you ask either of my parents about the weather at any given time they can reliably tell you the daily percent chance of precipitation and humidity for at least seven days out. They’ve always been this way. They would inform me of the weather at various points throughout the week. They planned their yard work and car washes around the weather forecast. There’s something about the way the weather forecast is available to everyone. And it feels like it’s just a matter of making the small extra effort to access it and gain a slight advantage. I feel like so much of the immigrant mentality is to be diligent in making the right choices to not screw yourself over and seizing opportunities whenever you can. And it wasn’t just weather but this is such an obvious example of it. 

I remember my dad saying to me once, "Can you imagine if someone decided to read every book in their local library? If they just went shelf by shelf and systematically read all the books? You could do it, you know. It’s free, it doesn’t cost any money to check out a book from the library. But no one really does it.” 

I think immigrant parents get a bad reputation for forwarding chain letters and health/science hoaxes they get on email, WeChat and Line. And in a pandemic, yes, they are definitely susceptible to misinformation, rumors and flat out untruths. But the thought behind it seems right. 

The mistrust of government leadership is actually quite relevant right now in this pandemic. Many immigrants left countries with governments that were overtly corrupt, oppressive, and used propaganda to influence its citizens. And while many Americans still take pride in living in a country that verbally champions freedom and democracy, the truth is that our government has already failed us and lied to us in many ways. During this pandemic, we cannot wait on leaders to tell us what to do. We must be diligent in reading for ourselves, seeking experts, using our critical thinking skills, and making preparations accordingly.

______________________________________________

會不會冷?

“Are you cold?” 

5. Check in with yourself. Check in with others. I have so many memories of my parents walking through the living room and asking me and my sisters if we were cold. It felt like they couldn’t walk past the thermostat without asking us if they needed to raise it or lower it. As if they couldn’t hear us sneeze and wonder if they needed to turn off the ceiling fan. They couldn’t see us sitting in a dim room without turning on a light for us. There are so many times I fell asleep reading on the couch and woke up with a blanket over me. Or sometimes I was fully awake doing something random, like playing Egyptian Rat Screw with my sisters (a cardgame for the uninitiated), and my mom would walk by and wordlessly drop a warm, heavy blanket over my shoulders. That’s care, y’all. Consistent, immediate action, and often without words.  

The tip here is to pay attention to your discomfort during a pandemic. There’s this immigrant stereotype of stoicism and that’s true to some degree but maybe the resilience is made possible not because of unnatural toughness but largely because immigrant parents can also be so incredibly perceptive and tender in some very tangible ways. 

When everything is chaotic around you and you’re busy multitasking these next few months, don’t ignore your needs. Notice how you’re feeling. Physically and emotionally. Where are you carrying your stress and tension in your body? You don’t have to tough it out. Oh and remember to check in with your people on how they’re feeling. Is there a light switch you can turn on for someone? 

______________________________________________

笑死人.

“Laugh to death.” 

6. Laugh to survive. Look, we didn’t have the perfect family or anything like that. We’ve definitely had our share of difficult times, financial stress, health issues, arguments, and pain. But my parents also really knew how to laugh and taught us to laugh with abandon. Like, bent over, tears running out of your eyes, can’t breathe kind of laughing. Our dinner table was kind of like a writer’s room. It was difficult to tell a mediocre story. You had better come prepared with a punchline or a point. It was a tough crowd, every night. On many occasions I stopped myself halfway through a story upon the self-realization that there was no real way to land the plane. Polite laughs were nowhere to be found, except perhaps a charitable smile from my baby sister. But it didn’t stop us from trying. I think my sisters and I are all probably better storytellers for it and we definitely have learned to try to bring humor into difficult times.  

I know that this pandemic is so incredibly dark and depressing that it can sometimes feel disrespectful, inappropriate, or childish to laugh at anything. But my parents taught me that you laugh to survive. Nothing is ever so dark that you can’t find a reason to laugh. And sometimes you really need to find something to laugh about.

I’ve been taking long breaks each day from major media news outlets but I have been finding such joy and laughter from the meme creators on IG and the comedic geniuses on Twitter. In Taiwanese when something’s really funny, people will say a phrase that is imperfectly translated as laugh to death. Like you killed a person it was so funny. Now’s the time to find that content or those people who will get you to laugh to death. 

______________________________________________

我要去挪車.

“I’m going to go re-park the cars.” 

7. Go to bed with a plan for the next morning. I grew up in a suburb of Houston, Texas where one property developer built the entire neighborhood and used the same eight or nine floor plans for all the houses but changed up the brick and trim color to keep things interesting. Most homes have a long driveway that connects a garage set near the backdoor of a home to the street. By the time I was driving, we had four cars in total -- two in the garage and two on the driveway. At the end of the day when everyone was home for the night and my dad was getting ready to go to bed, he’d announce, “I’m going to go re-park the cars.” Then we’d all kind of stop what we were doing and rearrange the order of the cars to match our morning departure schedules. This meant figuring out who was leaving when in the morning and sometimes also prompted brief check-in conversations about any changes in our usual routine. 

In a pandemic it can sometimes feel like there are a million different things to attend to and large conceptual concerns that demand your attention. But there’s something calming and centering about spending a few minutes each night thinking through specifically what needs to happen just tomorrow. Not the day after or next week. Get super tactical and specific about what tomorrow morning looks like. Check-in with your partner about any aberrations to your schedule (e.g. I have a super important conference call at 7am tomorrow) to minimize any unnecessary surprises. There’s something magical about setting up your morning that helps you rest just a little easier at night. 

______________________________________________

星期三我們有禱告會.

“On Wednesdays we have prayer meeting.”

8. Make time for your spirituality. Growing up my parents both had physically demanding jobs. My mom was a seamstress for many years, providing alterations at my aunt and uncle’s dry cleaners. She later worked in an elementary school cafeteria and then eventually became a classroom aide for special needs students. My dad worked at that same dry cleaners for years until he got a job at the post office. He then became a letter carrier, delivering mail on foot. The summer months were especially grueling, carrying a heavy sack of mail in 100 degree, humid weather, and walking until sweat soaked his shirts and blisters formed on his feet. They had every excuse to skip weeknight events. But unless they were sick in bed, I can’t remember a time when they missed their weekly prayer meeting with their friends from church.  

Pandemics have an unsettling way of forcing us to confront our mortality and can trigger a bunch of unresolved shit that has been bubbling underneath the surface. We’ve lost some of our usual coping mechanisms and it can be super hard to quiet the anxieties, fears, and other demons that we usually try to keep under control. This isn’t a lecture about a particular faith or belief system. It’s just a reminder to prioritize your existential questions, your interior life, and your connection to things much bigger than yourself -- whether that’s a community, a yoga practice, a faith group, a tradition, or something else. 

I have a fledgling meditation practice that I’ve been trying to strengthen since last year. When I say fledgling I mean that sometimes I bail before the ten minutes is up and check my phone. Even though I’m not very good at it yet, I can really tell the difference on the days that I make time for it. Our church started hosting its weekly Sunday service online and that’s challenging for me because a church service feels like it’s designed to be so much about the physical rhythm of going to a place, seeing faces of people I love, hearing their voices co-mingling with mine in song and in prayer, and tasting the bread and wine in my mouth. The online service was short, and just for viewing through a zoom conference call, but there was still something meaningful about setting aside that time Sunday morning, asking our wiggly kids to be present, and saying the liturgy out loud knowing that in homes all across the country, other people are doing the same. 

If things are really going to get as bad as some are predicting, we’ll need the spiritual strength to make it to the other side. Those habits are hard to form overnight. My parents taught me that you really have to make the time for your spirituality non-negotiable, so that you won’t abandon it when it’s inconvenient or when you are too tired.    

______________________________________________

沒辦法.

“What choice do we have?” 

9. Rise to the occasion. Whenever my parents are telling old war stories about things they had to do to get to where they are today, inevitably one of us will say, “Man that’s crazy, how did you manage to do it?” And instead of pointing to some super personality trait of theirs or some complex self-help principle, they always say, “We had no choice.” It’s not said in a defeated way, but in a posture of accepting that life can be cruel, unfair, and capricious. And that it’s not helpful to dwell too long on the why’s and how’s. My parents taught me that you can’t stay in despair mode. You eventually have to push yourself into problem solving mode and you do whatever it takes to move forward.  

This coronavirus is so unlike anything we’ve ever experienced in our lifetime. It is so unprecedented for me that my brain is having a hard time processing the reality of what’s happening right now and the rest of my lived experience. I spent the first few days of this week just being overwhelmed, anxious, angry, and irritable. At this point though, I’m in go mode. I’m doing what needs to be done for our family and taking care of business. What choice do we have? I can hear my parents saying it. One day, if we’re lucky, we’ll say it to our kids too. 

[winterune]

If Only

A Persona 5 Fanfiction

Late post for Day 1 of Daybreakers 2020 by @p5daybreak

Character: Ren Amamiya/Protagonist - Prompt: Origin

Word count: 1754

A/N: a little headcanon of mine. Again, sorry for the late post!

~*~*~*~*~

They were at it again—his parents. Fighting. Screaming. He could still hear it, even when he had put his headphones on and blasted music into his ear, trying and failing to study whatever it was he was supposed to study. The lines were blurring. He was tired. Maybe he should stop. He already had cram school. His homework was finished. There were no tests whatsoever for the coming month or so. And yet…

Ren would rather not have his father open that door and find him “slacking off”, as his father would say. Because no, not even Ren being a top scorer was enough for him.

The little stunt he had pulled back in middle school didn’t help. OK, yes, it did help him gain his father’s attention. The first place Ren had maintained all throughout his three years of middle school had suddenly dropped, and Ren had to admit that it had been his first time seeing his father truly angry. On one hand, Ren had felt some sort of achievement that he had managed to make his father actually look at him. On another hand, his cheek still smarted sometimes from the ghost of an impact his father’s hand had made with it.

The screaming from downstairs intensified. Ren’s fingers stilled and he shut his eyes. They had been going at it for a while now. Either it was the work, the house, or the family. Mostly the family—his mother’s family, his father’s family, this family. It wouldn’t be the first time to hear his father blaming his mother for whatever it was he thought Ren was lacking. Not that Ren hadn’t done everything he could think of to prove himself to his father that he wasn’t a failure: perfect test scores, top place at school, a teacher’s pet. He had even skipped out on several school events because his father had said they were a waste of time. His father had even gotten him out of the club he had been in middle school—that, or he would have gotten the club disbanded because Ren’s grades had dropped, which, really, hadn’t been the club’s fault at all.

Ren heard something shattering.

His eyes flew open. Taking his headphones off, Ren rushed out his room then down the stairs.

“Mom?” he called, alarmed.

He wouldn’t usually do this. He would never have interrupted them in the middle of their fight. Most of the time, when the fighting got too intense, he would just quietly go outside, find somewhere he could stay for a while—usually the park—have a drink he’d bought at a store or just sit down on the bench or the swings. Then, after some time had passed and he knew the fighting had to have ended, he would go back inside the house and find his mother sitting in the living room, staring vacantly ahead. Her body would jerk to attention when she heard the door close, and she would look up, and Ren would see this utter defeated, anguished look on her face—one she would always try to hide behind a smile. No matter what she was feeling, she would always smile in front of him, and it always hurt him seeing her like that.

Just once—just once he wanted to stand up against his father and tell him to leave his mother alone. Because no, it wasn’t her fault that Ren got bad grades. It wasn’t her fault that Ren could never live up to his expectations. It wasn’t her fault that he was stuck as some local government assembly with no chances of ever winning an election, because there would always be someone better than him.

He found his mother in the kitchen, her hand bleeding. Shards of glass were scattered around the floor. His father was just standing there, still in his suit, having just gotten home.

“Mom!” he shouted, aghast at what he saw.

“Careful, Ren!”

He was being careful as he rushed toward her. His mother needn’t worry about him. She’s the one who was hurt; several pieces of the shards had gotten stuck to her hand.

Gingerly holding her hand steady, Ren led his mother to the sink, where he carefully washed away the shards from the wound. They weren’t deep, not from his vantage point at least. But, just to be sure—

“Let’s get you to the hospital,” he said.

But his mother was already shaking her head, as though she had already read his mind. “It’s just a little cut.”

Ren tightened his grip on her hand. “Please, mom,” he begged. Please let me do this. Just this once. Let me help you.

Ren wondered if his unsaid pleas reached her. Maybe it did, because whatever she saw in his eyes finally made her relent, and she sighed and nodded. Ren beamed, then turned his attention to his father, who was still scowling by the doorway. He gritted his teeth and set his jaws, staring hard at his father’s eyes. If he wasn’t going to take them, then Ren would find other ways.

However, his father sighed, as loud as he could, through his nose. “I’ll get the keys,” was all he said before turning around and disappearing through the doorway.

***

There hadn’t been anything to worry about, the doctor said. It was only a little cut. His mother gave him that look that basically said, I told you so. She had had basic medical teaching growing up, what’s with her family owning a large hospital in the city. Maybe Ren should have listened to her, but he knew that wouldn’t ease the guilt he always felt whenever he looked at her. At least now, he had done something.

His father didn’t say anything—didn’t even offer an apology. The car was quiet to-and-fro the hospital, the air so thick he could have cut it with a knife. Even when they reached their home, his father still didn’t utter a single word. Ren watched silently as his father entered the house without looking back—those broad shoulders of his still an imposing sight, even when Ren was already fifteen, going on sixteen, and had gotten taller than his mother.

Ren stood in front of the house, finding himself curling his fingers into fists, glaring at the now-empty doorway

Why didn’t his father say anything?! He thought. He hasn’t even said sorry! Isn’t that what people normally do when they’ve hurt someone?! Apologize?!

“Ren,” his mother’s quiet voice interrupted his thoughts. She was standing in the doorway, looking at him. “Let’s get inside,” she said. “It’s cold out.”

It was cold, but the coldness he felt was more than just the late autumn air prickling his bones. This house—this…prison. Would it be possible to take his mother away and leave it? He would rather not leave her alone with that sociopath.

“Ren,” his mother softly called him again.

Ren took a deep breath, trying to soothe that bubbling anger. He slowly uncurled his fingers and followed his mother inside.

His mother led him to the kitchen, where Ren stopped her from cleaning up the shattered glass and told her to sit. “I’ll do it,” he said. It was the least he could do for her. So, he quietly grabbed the broom and a dustpan from the storage and began sweeping the glass shards quietly.

“Do you want something to drink?” his mother asked, trying to break the silence.

“I’m all right,” Ren replied. Then he looked up. “Do you want to, mom? I’ll make you something.”

That elicited a small chuckle from his mother. “I can still move, Ren. I’m not an invalid.”

Ren paused. “I didn’t—”

His mother laughed again. “Finish that up, then we’ll have a drink together.”

Ren pursed his lips but forced himself to nod. He finished sweeping the glass shards, then threw everything in the trash can, returning the broom and dustpan to its place, before joining his mother at the kitchen counter, where she was making both of them hot chocolate.

Ren took a seat by the counter and quietly sipped at his drink. Several silent moments passed before his mother finally spoke, and it wasn’t about anything at all. She talked about the weather, how it was too cold for autumn, even though winter was still over a month away. She asked about his school and the cultural festival they just held. She talked about the charity events she was going to hold or the flowers she would need for her flower arranging activities.

Ren watched at how animated his mother looked as she talked, as though the fight with his father hadn’t happened and her hand wasn’t full of small cuts. How do you do it, he wanted to ask, feeling his anger start to rear its head again. How do you endure this?

His parents had been living together for over sixteen years, and ever since he could remember, seeing or hearing them fight was just an everyday thing. It had gotten to the point where Ren would wonder if either his mother or father would just up and leave him one day. But they never did. They stayed together for reasons he could never comprehend.

Ren stared at his mother’s bandaged hand—a clean white gauze circling the parts that were cut. Shallow cuts, the doctor had said. Nothing to worry about. His mother had told him that she had broken a glass when she was doing the dishes. Of course he hadn’t understood that it was something to worry about. He didn’t know that it was Ren’s father who had thrown the glass at her. Her delicate hand that she used to arrange beautiful flowers in her studio, the one that could wipe away any tear or sadness he had ever felt—it was cut and bleeding and Ren hadn’t done anything to stop it.

He curled his fingers around his glass and gritted his teeth as tears blurred his vision. If only he were stronger—

“Ren.” His mother’s soft voice interrupted his train of thoughts. Her warm hands were on his. He slowly looked up and the small smile on his mother’s face made his fingers twitch painfully, his heart clenching tight.

She didn’t need any words. He knew what she was trying to say. It’s not your fault.

But she was wrong. If Ren were stronger, and kinder, and braver, he might have been able to protect her from his father.

~ END ~

[sikereviewdotcom]

undercover brother (2002) review

sup been a while but didnt forget about yall and your eager butts to dive head first right in the flooding words coming out of my mouth today gonna rev "undercover brother" (2002), its gonna be solid guys

so we start with an introduction where we talk about how black culture was losing its flavour after the 70s, progress was slowed down n all as we reached 2000 but dont be fooled, its all cause of a buncha events orchastred by "the man"... a big racist mf ig whos also the kkk equivalent of the team rocket boss, sitting in a ig chair, never see his face in the flashbacks or like the bad guy in inspector gadget, more like him ig since we actually see the team R boss face quite often nonetheless, theres a form of mystery folding this whole business... THE MAN acts in the shadows and he hates to see how dark those are, he wants things to be like it used to be back in slavery times good oltime for him but.. not for the fam

ofc then here is introduced THE REAL MAN OF MEN => undercover brother, our hero and damn he has the style of a whole pack of elephants trampling around in pink disco suits every ladies wanna a piece of that sweet fro he is packing up on his head, funky

ngl, the whole way this mov is filmed n edited is sike asf, dope guys especially considerin its actually made in 2002, loving it anyway then were also introduced to the other secondary protags who are from an organisation here to stop The Mans evil doings and careful: undercover bro was actually a solo act until now cause now they gonna collaborate all throughout da mov: its the B.R.O.T.H.E.R.H.O.O.D, with conspiracy brother (tbh a fav here, guys wack like the whole plot guy thinks computer comes from a story involving peanut and idk guys he keeps rambling bout bs which makes him a+ character) smart brother, chief and sister girl (original name/10)

so btw the organization is on a mission rn at the beginning to destroy The Man (lets call him tm for the rest of this rev) financial infrastructure aka funds to stop him better or smthg and it gets spicy as they get caught but ofc undercover bro barges in from nowhere wow big disguise as an old man no one noticed him so like slash bawow boom vlam, bad guys ko and he squeedaddle out of there like twas breeze gg man, he also get fed a nice editing of xrays battle like with a side of kungfu n whatnot, undercover bro knows his stuff

nice sounds effects ah yes btw romantic intrigue with sister girl begins here, its the zinc of the flinch as ub (undercover brother) notices her big wink wink nudge nudge, btw later she is asked to go enlist him in the corps so he can help stop the man with them n shit and he trynna get her in his bed cause thats we this brother is used to, getting laid as soon as he meets a chick, who can resist this dude?

he gots moves, fro, style, skills and also at times he is a pussy but k, not everyones perf sometimes you just simp for a white blond blue eyed woman (spoiler) and crawls on all four looking like a big preppy nerd btw in this review im trynna not spoil the whole plot cause guys, this movie gotta be on yo watch list kay? im not here to ruin this experience in yo life itd be pretty uncool of me so im just gonna state the big lines then its up to you to swoop the tiny ones out of the watch, knot your own breds n stuff

back on the whooper slapping: intro credits roll, we get some nice back story for our hero, making sure we can understand his cause in saving the black peeps from TMs assholery might truth n justice be your guide

so what the big plot then? well yknow how a big antag cant do shit on his own cause hes too busy sticking brooms up his ass in his private quarters? yea well same goes here so there this gay guy who will be twerking later on btw, a scene to behold, rumps to ogle at, so hes a bad guy and gay n gonna do most of the dirty work for TM, whats new? idk what to think of it yknow its a stereotype in movs so ig ok still uncool but ill see it as all in good spirit cause theres bad n good im not excepting this to be the best watch of my life, nah it wasnt either, but i had a good laugh kay? makes up for it cause unlike some here i got no shit up my ass alley its clean scrubbed up n down so i can smoothly take a chillax up n a shit out without a night tormented by constipation, nah its all sliding where it should no pain no sweat

so the big lines is that a war hero whos a black man is gonna become president and wtf no is the only react racist mf could have which is what they have, bad guys gonna stop it from happening at once and the brotherhood aint letting it happens cause obvs something is wrong as every black peeps gonna turn into a stereotype like waddup in this mad world? its all because of the poisonous fried chicken brand TM will get around ty to another poison to make our war hero delusional n so on were also introduced to white evil she-ra later btw, just dropping this in cause undercover brother really wants to make oreos with her n sister girl (his words) ig shes the second love interest, im not too invested in this romantic intrigue it was just necessary not like twas very developped anyway its even more of a bedroom intrigue when it comes the the white blue eyed blond chick, sister girl before hoes yo

whats it in conclusion about this movie? first, the plot: hilarious biznasty worthy a+ bs especially how its turned yknow, the clichés were turned upside down n if not theyre just turned into a big satire of themselves editing + music ? yknow its actually good, and funky asf im digging it, a travel in time nostalgia of times i lived acting is pretty neat its not an ironically good movie cause its hilariously ridiculous in the making way its all about the plot here, plot twists and characters, the whole universe ig like its superior to big mamma sorta plot or maybe im dropping this comparison cause its been a while since i saw big maam, for sure twas under estimated while over brought when this here? it got freshness packed in

the spoiling was light and this is cause this movie got a 69/10 rating jk 8/10 if were gonna be serious, im gonna list wats unwoke n uncool here: 1 gay villain stereot, gotta be honest here its not that big of a deal tme seeing when it was made and how i still laughed yknow idc this much but some could go apeshit over it 2 not enough conspiracy brother content: this is all i ask for 3 had no snacks while watching the movie, too bad id dig a aj or grape soda right about now n then 4 more lines for car wash chicks jk this last one idc about, but car wash representation is lacking once again in american movies, i cant believe how looked over it is, as if they didnt need smore rep in the medias its not an easy job washing car all day long, standin in those ghost buster lookin suit while staring at the hot guys in hot wheelys, whos gonna pay you a drink when youre just an old carwash lady? thought finally a hero would step up in this movie but there it goes thrown out da window, the potential was real until it got blown away sure sister girl was a solid character but give the washers some credits cut them a slack of free time n have a lil date together there on top of a truck to keep it native

nonetheless this is a top rec for anyone who feels like slipping into some conspiracy slippers

tg, out

[the-truth-will-light-the-sky]

Road Trip with Prince Regis and His Crew

Prince Regis Lucis Caelum crosses the continent alongside his friends Cid Sophiar, Weskham Armaugh, Clarus Amicitia, the young but firecracker Cor Leonis and an unexpected guide. Who can shower in the rain? 

Long Headcanon post...again. 

The song playing in my mind each time I imagine Prince Regis and his friends cutting across the continent towards Accordo is “Blowing in The Wind” by Stevie Wonder (his version is so beautiful). Imagine the prince and his friends singing the lyrics to the songs they love, not minding if they’re out of tune or out of sync (that’s Cid).

Regis  

Regis is the fussiest among the rest of the crew. Not about mud or dust. It’s not that. The only thing he’d ever care about are his dirty clothes.

He’s used to presenting himself in the best image at all times, he’s used to keeping his look pristine and well-kept and so must his clothes.

Oh and hygiene. He’s fine with dirt. But no proper baths or showers? Expect the prince to be pouty until their next motel or caravan stop.

Gloves all day, every day. In the cold, in the heat, while sleeping, while eating --  Prince Regis doesn’t like dirt in between his fingernails. 

Aside from all these, Regis is a complete outdoors man. He can adapt to any situations and would always have the best solution to the weather.

Rain? He’s got an umbrella at his disposal. Too hot? He’s brought his sleeveless shirts (black and sleek, of course. He has to wear those for the photos because Aulea loves seeing him in those things). Too cold? He’s got the thickest and comfiest coat. Fashionable too, of course.

When it comes to food, despite being used to the finest cuisine Lucis and Insomnia has to offer, Regis can stomach just about anything.

He’s endured so many things even at a young age. Five star food can wait. At twenty, Regis doesn’t mind if he’s eating toast all day or beans. He can eat any vegetables that Weskham can find.

Regis brought most of his essentials with him. As mentioned, there’s his hygiene and shaving kit. He’s also brought his sewing kit to fix those loose buttons and yes his pants that is ripped in the middle, his medicine (he gets allergic to the outdoors sometimes; Cid calls him a princess), his favourite book, extra pairs of gloves (must hide that ring), flashlights, extra weapons just in case he loses yet another dagger, his favourite coffee brand and of course, and of course his phone card (gotta call his sweetheart Aulea).

Regis is a really bad driver — every one of them would scramble for the seat belts only to know there aren’t any. Instead, they’d hang on to their dear lives each time he’s behind the wheel.

Regis would drive and chat, much to everyone’s horror. Cid’s incessant cursing doesn’t help either, as it even encourages Regis to be animated with his expressions and uses his hands to tell his stories.

Regis is not the first to rise in the mornings, but he’s not the last either. He’s more of the middle.

He’s one of the last to sleep, though. He’s got a lot on his mind. 

And the complete darkness gives him the chills. He’s used to the comfort of Insomnia’s bright lights or his bedside lamp.

The Prince has the quickest reflexes and the sharpest hearing, too. So if anyone starts to fight their pillow in their sleep (it’s Cid), he’s the first to grab his heavy flashlight to brandish about as if all of Eos’ daemons are jam-packed in their already full tent.

Regis would give Cid a playful kick in the leg to rouse him from his sleep, much to no avail.

Being a proper prince and all, Regis is not an unruly tent mate. He keeps much to his own space and rarely snores.

Just don’t deprive him of his pillow and blanket. He’s used to comfort and his back hurts a lot if he doesn’t have any cushioning. Cid calls him a sissy, to which the Prince retorts that he won’t share his exquisite Lucian blanket when the temperature gets cold. 

He kept his word, of course. Cid immediately regretted the decision as the comforter reached up only until Weskham. He’d have to endure the surface and the cold. His favourite line of ‘Oh my achin’ back’ originated from this little event.

He’s the guy who wants the oil lamp to be set to dim at night inside the tent, not to be extinguished at all.

The Prince of Lucis does the dishes. Don’t let the sharp suit and neatly trimmed nails fool you. He’s built for hard work and he’s willing to do it all.

Just don’t make him put up the tent, if you don’t want it to look like a child’s make-believe fortress in the end.

Prince Regis can be a rebel out in the wild. He’s not a stranger to mischief despite his gentlemanly demeanour. Like every young man, he always likes to get away with some trouble making.

Regis prefers to use his weapons against daemons whenever they stayed too late out in the wilds. He would be inheriting the Ring of the Lucii but he prefers not to use it against the daemons.

He’s not afraid to fight them off. Although, he has a particular dislike of those Nagaranis and Necromancers. Gives him the shivers like the Frozen’s Glacian’s breath breathing down his neck.

The Prince, despite his wealth, is the stingiest of all the guys. He’d hold back until the last moment a.k.a. until the seller gives up and gives him half the price. Score!

Thinks he’s the coolest guy in Lucis whenever he drives his car. He’s a bit vain when he’s out on the road; he knows he looks too damn fine and sexy in his gloves as he drives out into the wild in his sleek and shiny Regalia.

Cid

The able mechanic has all his tools with him. It’s stored in the back of the Regalia, inside his pockets, even inside his jacket or his screwdriver tucked in his pants. Don’t ask where he keeps the screws.

Cid is the rowdiest of the group. And he never shuts up.

He does keep to himself sometimes, but if he’s in one of his moods, Cid will just keep on singing to his heart’s content.

He likes to take the wheel when on the road, but Regis says no.

Aside it from being his car, Regis knows that if Cid is behind the wheel, it means that the grumpy mechanic holds all reins to the car audio system.

It’s all country music or swampy music of course. Cowboy tunes are his favourite.

Not that the guys mind, of course. They’re not choosy. But it’s Cid’s incessant singing that bugs them.

He can’t even sing the songs right, almost always singing the lyrics late. When he realises this, he tries to quicken his singing to keep up with the song. It’s like listening to those tapes that you fast forward. It’s both funny and annoying at the same time.

Cor would never admit it, but he likes it whenever Cid starts singing. It gives him the best laughs in his ‘boring’ life.

In the whole crew, Cid is the most un-fussiest of them all when it comes to camping.

Beans for lunch? Great, tastes like caviar. No water for showering? He can shower in the rain. A snoring Clarus for the rest of the night? Why, music to his ears. A bratty Cor Leonis? Lemme handle this brat.

Cid loves camping. He’s ecstatic to be out in the wild. He’s not fond of the bright lights of Insomnia. He likes looking out into the wild lands each time he has the chance. And now he’s out here and there’s nothing that he could ever ask for. Oh, uh, except for peace of course. Peace needs to be won.

Cid, despite his hard demeanour, is a softie for the wild animals. The rest of the crew loves animals, of course, but the animals love Cid like he’s their daddy.

The mechanic can even tame a bloody sabertusk, petting its head while Clarus wrestles with one beside him, screaming as he does so.

Regis runs away from a pack of rogue Daggerquills while Cid has one perched on his shoulders like he’s freakin’ Snow White. He’s proud of it, of course.

‘They ain’t like the varmints folks call ‘em — they’re practically a softie!’ Cid says about a skarnbulette.

He even thinks a behemoth is an adorable little kitty. Clarus gives him the weird look reserved only for the looniest of people. Cid’s the second in that list of his, and that’s not a compliment.

Cid Sophiar puts up the tent. He’s the best tent maker around. The rest of them can screw it. Yup, his own words, not mine.

Cid is almost always awakened each time Regis rises from his sleep. The two best friends are inseparable despite their differences.

It is also universally known that if Regis catches the stomach flu, expect Cid to get the same predicament or something similar.

Cor Leonis gets on Cid Sophiar’s nerves. Not because the fifteen year old ‘stuck up’ is a hyper active teen because he’s not. It’s because he treats Cid with the utmost respect even if the older man tries to rile him up to get any kind of reaction from him aside from his usual stoic scowl.

Cid Sophiar always gets the ladies’ numbers if they’re ever stopping by civilisation. He’s a ladies’ man. Sorry, Weskham.

If only Cid’s incessant cursing and badmouthing can kill even the fiercest of daemons, Regis would be grateful. The mechanic slings out bad words like a freakin’ machine gun.

Weskham

This Keycatrich native is the calmest of the group.

Nothing ever freaks him out. Not even a rogue Behemoth screeching eerily close to their camps at night. Nope. Not even Cid’s stink eye nor Cor’s tantrums.

He’s the parent of the group. He’s the one who administers the medicines and the salves, the one who cooks, the one who is the first to rise from sleep.

He’s also got the longest patience. Cid can mumble his cowboy tunes like a broken vinyl record and Clarus can snore as loud as a behemoth until dawn and Regis can be all too fussy for not showering for two days and Cor can keep on babbling about the empire’s demise all day and night. Weskham doesn’t bat an eyelash. He’s chill.

But if anyone loses any of his pens or scratches his pans, expect a little scolding. Yes, even Regis…especially Regis. The prince accidentally washes his prized pan with the rough texture side of the sponge.

Being an able cook, Weskham can whip any delicious food up with just about any ingredient, to which the crew is very much grateful for. At least they won’t have bean soup for the third night straight. He’s looking at Cid.

Weskham is the most civil when it comes to getting rid of both vicious animals and villainous daemons. Swift and painless.

He has the best tunes than the rest of the crew. Whatever he picks to play in the Regalia, anyone would say it’s an agreeable choice.

Weskham loves to tell stories by the camp fire. This is Regis’ favourite part of the night.

The wise man always has something to tell and most of the time his stories are both exciting and insightful.

The guys look like children huddled by the camp fire, their eyes glued on the charismatic man as he regales them of tales of days past.

Weskham, suspiciously enough, has keys for almost everything.

When it comes to sleeping, Weskham is a shallow sleeper. He can rouse from his sleep just like Regis but unlike the Prince, this gentleman handles his sudden awakening with a very calm and collected demeanour, not thrashing about like a coeurl.

He is the only one in the group with a watch. In fact, he’s got like, five pocket watches?

He’s also the one they can rely on when it comes to reading compasses. But without it though, Weskham is, in Clarus’ own words, as useless as a dessert spoon.

Weskham is the voice of conscience. If Regis is driving recklessly, expect him to tell the prince to glue his eyes on the road. He’s also the one to tell Cid not to bother poor Leonis.

He is also the negotiator of the group. Cid is the opposite of course. When Cid gets them into trouble with anyone, especially at diners, Weskham is the man to do the job of clearing things. Regis can’t do it though because he won’t stop laughing at the bumbling mechanic.

Clarus

Clarus Amicitia hates bugs. He won’t stay still whenever he sees one. He won’t freak out, goodness no. But expect him to be jumpy each time he’d feel a mosquito on his skin. Those hundlegs? No thanks.

This is where his skill with blades come in handy. A fly on flying in front of you? SLASH. Clarus just slashed it in half with his little dagger. Cor wants to emulate it…he fails each time.

Cor asks his secret to being precise and agile. Clarus agrees to do so if Cor can tell him if the mosquito was a female or male. The young soldier gives him the famous Cor Leonis scowl. Priceless.

Clarus is the most adaptable to sleep and waking up. He needs to wake up early? No prob, he’ll be asleep by eight pm. He needs to stay up? No prob, bring in the coffee and expect him to be as hyper at four in the morning.

He likes to work out as much as he can. He also trains young Cor as Weskham cooks their food and Regis does his regular shave.

Clarus and Cid get on each others’ nerves sometimes. Nothing serious, though. It’s more that Clarus is used to keeping quiet and Cid is just the blabber mouth of the group. 

He particularly HATES it whenever Cid clicks his tongue to fill in the silence, especially at night.

He likes watching the stars before he goes to sleep. There’s something so calming about it each time he’d gaze at the stars in their millions.

He keeps a journal where he writes his star charts. 

He also writes about the animals and plants he sees. Everything about the wilderness amazes him. Yes, Clarus is the explorer of the group. One day, he’ll live out somewhere in Duscae where he’s surrounded by all things living. Insomnia’s just too full of buildings…and malls.

Clarus smuggled a frog in their journey. It’s his favourite pet, found it in Alstor Slough. His name is Pepito. Please don’t ask him why. Regis can’t get rid of it, not that he hates it. He likes it and wants it for himself. It’s just that, they can’t keep it from croaking all the damn time. Plus, Cid says frogs give warts. Weskham wants it out. Cor wants to keep it because it keeps the mosquitoes away. The said frog made it back to Insomnia.

He likes to sing in the mornings. He’s just way too happy in the early dawn.

Sabertusks hate Clarus. He doesn’t know why, but they always try to go after him. Remind him to bring extra clothes because he always ends up having ripped sleeves.

He’s the one who gets the fire going. Nobody else can do it like he does.

Clarus is not fussy with anything at all, except for his weapons. They have to be polished each time. 

Oh and, they must always have some hot sauce in their spices. This man lives for the spice.

And please, no matter what happens, please don’t give him those instant noodles. He wants real food. And real food takes time to be cooked.

Dirty nails, every damn time, no matter how many times he cleans them. It sets Regis’ hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

Has the best whistle in the group; could be heard hundreds of feet away. No joke.

He’s also the navigator of the group. Regis is a lost cause in map reading and Cid is always holding the map on the wrong end. Weskham helps, but he’s not good with the actual terrain. 

Clarus sees a coin on the ground. He takes it. He sees a wonderfully shaped stone. He stashes it in his pocket. He finds a small crystalline curiosity. He covets it like a diamond ring. He’s the pack rat of the group.

Cor

Cor Leonis only thinks of one thing: keep the Prince safe. It’s hard-wired into his system. A pesky Voretooth is gnawing at the prince? Get rid of it. A cockroach is crawling on the prince’s shoulder? Smack it away. No more coffee? He’ll walk a kilometre to buy one.

Despite this, however, he’s no pet. He’s only doing his duty. Cor is not afraid to call out the prince if he’s doing something wrong. And it always happens.

Rain or shine, the young soldier always wears his hat. He’ll chase after it if it gets blown away. Cid teases him that he’s hiding something in his hat. He probably is, who knows?

Cor can sleep anywhere. He’s not fussy how he falls asleep. This boi can sleep standing up. 

He sleeps as still as a door nail -- he doesn’t move at all. He’s the perfect tent mate.

He loves to read his books before sleeping. Not maths or his studies, those are boring, he says. He likes to read nonfiction books about the world and of course, philosophy.

Cor can deny it all he wants, but he secretly likes it whenever Weskham makes a bowl of chilli. He lives for chilli nights.

He’s an all-around-er, meaning he can do almost anything. He’s a walking Swiss Knife.

If there are any imperial locks they needed to pick, Cor is expected to open it with ease. Oh and those tough cans of beans, he’s the only one who could open them.

Cor Leonis is stuck in the Regalia with older men. It’s not like he’s bothered by it; he even thinks as if he’s older than Cid. 

What he doesn’t get is their taste in music. He prefers the silence.

He likes to whistle, however. It’s the only habit that he can’t stop himself from doing.

He has a dislike for V, their guide. He doesn’t like that she dresses in men’s clothes and hides her face most of the time. He doesn’t trust people with secrets even if they have a good reason for it.

Cor treats her with courtesy but expect him to square his jaws whenever she gets to an enemy before him.

The wild animals love Cor Leonis. Even the bugs, much to his dismay.

He’s also known as the ‘Sunburn Kid’ as he always ends having his nose red after a long day on the road. He wears longs sleeves to shield himself from the sun, but his nose couldn’t escape the wrath of the sun.

He’s also the one who is more likely to catch a cold. He would have allergies too that would cause him to sneeze incessantly. The older guys feel sorry for the firecracker kid. He gets all pouty and his eyes would get so watery he looks like an innocent child.

Cor has names for everyone in the group, but he would never divulge it.

In fact, he has names for almost everything. It’s his way of amusing himself when the group starts talking about things like allergies or romance. Gotta keep himself entertained or else he might lose it.

Whenever they end up stopping by a gas station or a Crow’s Nest diner, Cor is the centre of attention.

Women of all ages gawk at him. The way he presents himself is a real lady killer. The older ladies remember their old romances back in the day, the moms would fuss about him asking if he’s already eaten and the young girls his age or the young women in their twenties would stare at him like he’s a rare chocobo.

Regis loves making fun of him, taking photos of the stoic young soldier as he whistles. He’s kind of proud of the ‘lil heartbreaker.

Clarus gives him the stink eye. It’s unfair.

Buys postcards from every damn outpost. He never sends it to anyone. He likes to collect them in his journal of mementos. Yup, Cor is loves to journal.

Cor is also the one with the most mosquito bites after a night at camp. He doesn’t know why, but bugs just love him.

Clumsy. He’s supposed to be the paragon of stoicism and grace, but somehow Cor ends up spilling his coffee on his pants, tripping on flat surfaces or knocking down merchandise. 

Beside disliking V, he found himself imitating her love for the word ‘phony.’

V

V finds herself crossing paths with Prince Regis and his crew. During their journey, she’s hired by the prince as their guide after she defeated a group of Reapers faster than any of them ever did.

That was before they knew she was a woman. She wore men’s clothing, trying not to show her face just in case someone who knows her sees her and asks why she hasn’t aged at all.

This triggered Cor’s suspicions about her when she revealed that she’s a woman by speaking since Cid won’t stop asking her about things.

Cor wants her out but Regis was adamant. Her skills and expertise in medicine would prove useful if they ever run out of potions supplies and their supplies are indeed running out, as well as their money. Plus it doesn’t hurt having a girl in the group.

After escaping Somnus Lucis Caelum two millennia ago, she lived her life as a rogue traveler, performing odd jobs from healer to scholar to hunter. That’s how she learned how to survive, hiding from the eyes of her most hated Lucian King.

During their days together, she doesn’t know who the guys are, even Regis. They never told her of their real identity nor their missions. In turn, she didn’t reveal her full name and never once stated her disdain for the Lucian line.

A wild woman in the battlefield. Cor considers her a savage in the way she fights as she fights with unrefined movements and uses every damn thing she can to her advantage. 

A crate on by the rocks? The perfect thing to throw on a Bulette before it rolls over and flattens poor Regis. A crouching Clarus? Why the perfect leverage for a pole arm dive attack. Cor’s daggers tucked in his back pockets? The best emergency weapons.

Veritas would often shout to the crew about the daemon’s weaknesses and would encourage them to use whatever they can to exploit the daemons’ weaknesses to kill them swiftly and painlessly.

She helps with the herb gathering, often times saving the guys from stomach aches or worse by telling them which mushrooms are not fit for consumption. Whoops. No wonder Regis gets stomach aches as he always picks the wrong ones! Good thing he didn’t get the ones with poison.

V can barter with the prices whenever they’d stop over at a market. Despite concealing her face, people know of the mysterious hunter who saved their hides a lot of times. So when this woman needs some discount, they’re not hesitant to give her some. They’d even throw in some free things, too, much to the crew’s gratitude. They once drove off with two boxes full of supplies and hurrah, Regis’ favourite coffee brand.

When it comes to hygiene, V is just like Clarus. She can handle all the dirt. She doesn’t have to shower a lot, much to Regis’ dismay. How can a woman be so unlady-like? V doesn’t mind, there’s always some place she can find for that most coveted shower time.

One of the boys. If there’s one thing that the crew has noticed is her lack of…femininity.

She can be as brusque as Clarus or as bad-mouthed as Cid (to a lesser degree, thank goodness) and as tough as Cor.

But show her a spider and all femininity goes back to her in a snap. 

She once spilled her hot cup of coffee on herself when a spider jumped at her one morning and Regis found himself holding on to a scared witless V. That started their friendship that would last a long time since in fact, Regis himself is terrified of spiders. So they both ran towards Clarus who also ran towards a very confused Cor Leonis who in turn held the spider in his hands (Regis cringes) and out of their sight.

V loves to catch the first rays of the sun as well as the last golden light at dusk. She talks of different things with them, especially with Weskham whose wisdom and calm demeanour she finds refreshing.

When it comes to sleeping, V sleeps outside the tent, much to their protests. Cor Leonis is suspicious of her, so he sleeps outside sometimes too.

She likes listening to the guys as they banter. She’d inadvertently join in, causing a ruckus when she defeated Cid in a ‘back talk’.

She doesn’t need saving, even from persistent men in the diner. 

Regis likes watching her turn down good looking men and women. She once smacked a guy in the face when she felt him feeling her up. 

Clarus had to carry her away. That’s the only saving she needed, much to the prince’s amusement. He remembers that, even until today.

[surveyjunkie]

Is there a bus stop near your house?: I’m not sure, I don’t take the bus anywhere

Do you prefer red wine or white wine?: White wine for sure

What’s the last airport you were at? Why were you there?: I was at CVG because I was coming back from vacation

Who do you live with?: My boyfriend and his brother

Do you read Reddit? If so, how often and what subreddits do you like?: No. I think I’ve been on there like four times and I never understood the appeal. The layout is so messy and confusing, but maybe that’s the point, Idk. < Yeah, I’ve been on there a few times too but I agree, the layout is really messy and old-school. < same

Have you recently broken up with a significant other or even just a friend?: no

What’s the weather like today? Is it nice enough to go outside?: it’s hot and sunny. it’s nice enough to go outside but not stay outside for too long unless you plan on going to the pool.

Do you know anyone who’s had a baby recently?: my coworker’s daughter just had a baby, if that counts?

Have you used a pen or pencil today? What did you write down?: i used a pen to write down events in my brand new PLANNER

What does your last text message say and who is it from?: “i love you :)” - josh

Can you count how many times you’ve seen your favorite film?: i have a few favorites, i’ve seen them all at least 30 times each

When was the last time you ate marshmallows?: probably the last time i made hot chocolate...so back in April?

Do you listen to any podcasts? How do you listen to them?: sometimes! i listen on my phone but also sometimes on my computer

How old will you be in the year 2030?: 38....vomit

How often does the kettle in your house get used?: we don’t even have a kettle, if we want tea we just boil or microwave water

Does your skin bruise easily? Do you have any bruises right now? What from?: i do, but i’m not sure if i have any right now or where they are

What was the last thing you spent $150 or more on?: a car payment

Do you prefer yes or no questions or more open-ended questions?: open-ended

What brand of toilet paper do you usually buy?: the cheapest brand, but never the store brand bc it sucks.

If I knocked on your door right now, would you be acceptably dressed?: i’m at work...so go right ahead.

Why did you leave your last job?: they weren’t giving me any hours after i got a second job, so it made more sense to just go full time at the second place and quit the first. also, i was kind of sick of retail.

What color were the last socks you wore?: black.

Are you studying currently? What level of education and what do you study?: in the fall i’m starting my 1st year of grad school in health informatics (aka bio-statistics) so i can finally start making some real money

Have you ever eaten at a restaurant and left without paying?: no

What was the last thing that made you laugh out loud?: there was a funny situation that just happened at work

What’s your favorite scent of air freshener?: i have one in my car right now that i really like called bay breeze or something like that. it’s just one of those little tree air fresheners.

How many weddings have you ever been to?: 7 i think??

Do you know anyone named Nora?: yes, that’s Josh’s grandma’s name

Are your hands and feet in good condition or could you do with a mani-pedi? I just painted my nails but I need to go over them again, and my toes need painted.

Have you ever been to a festival for beer or other types of alcohol?: many times

Do you own a record player and/or vinyl?: no

When was the last time you went out for drinks?: unless you count grabbing beers with dinner, a few weeks ago is the last time i went out to a “real” bar. Have you ever been to a strip club?: i’ve only gone twice in my whole life

What’s your favorite kind of smoothie?: mango or strawberry banana

Do you know anyone with a ‘virtue name’? (Google it): yep

Would you ever wear real authentic leather?: nah

Have you taken out the trash today?: no but thanks for reminding me bc it’s being picked up tomorrow lmao How often do you wear make-up?: like, once a week if that

What’s your opinion on The Simpsons?: it’s not really for me, i’ve watched a few episodes with Josh and found them funny but i probably wouldn’t watch it on my own time

Do you prefer horizontal or vertical stripes?: horizontal

What’s your favorite brand of deodorant/antiperspirant?: i just found a new one i love but i forget the name, it comes in a green matte container

Do you know anyone who has been through a divorce?: yes

If you had the money, would you take taxis everywhere instead of driving?: i live in a small town so there’s no need for taxis, but if i lived in the city then maybe

Have you ever done a juice cleanse?: no

Do you have any friends who you can’t decide if they’re attractive or not?: honestly, yes Is the inside of your fridge clean right now or does it need a cleanout?: it could do with a cleanout

When was the last time you washed the dishes?: Josh takes care of that, he washed them all on Saturday but we’ve been eating out since then. 

Are there any magazines that you read on a regular basis?: sometimes i read Game Informer but that’s literally it

Do you have to pay for parking in most places in the town/city you live in?: nope.

What’s the first thing you tend to do when you have a headache?: lay down or take an ibuprofen, drink lots of water

Tell me about your responsibilities at work: i’m a patient registrar at a doctor’s office, i check people in, verify their information/insurance, collect payments, scan orders, all that good stuff.

Can you hear lots of traffic from your house? Does it bother you?: no, it’s really quiet where i live. Have you ever had proper Canadian poutine with the squeaky cheese?: i’ve had poutine, but i don’t know what squeaky cheese is so i guess it wasn’t proper Canadian?

Do your parents know how to operate smartphones and/or computers?: yes

How old are your parents, anyway?: my dad is 56 and my mom is 57

Are you allergic to anything? What do you have to do to prevent them?: mosquitos, i don’t do anything

What song is stuck in your head at the moment?: shooting stars by....i forget the artist. 

Do you hate it when people try really hard or do you kinda like it?: it bothers me a bit

What’s your boss’ first name? Do you call him/her by that name?: amy. yes.

When was the last time you wore a uniform of any kind? What color was it? i’m wearing one right now, it’s a blue long-sleeved sporty looking collared shirt. 

Do you complete a survey before taking this one? Will you take one after?: nah this is my first. it got really slow at work and i needed something to do. Have you ever lost enough weight to drop a dress size?: yep. my weight fluctuates really bad. i go back and forth between a size 4 and a size 8 depending on the type of job i have. right now, i have a desk job so i’m chunky again. 

What’s your favorite kind of bread?: french

When was the last time you got pizza? What toppings did you get?: i can’t remember

Do you own Monopoly? Is it the original or a special version?: no

What was the last thing you said out loud?: bless you, cause someone sneezed

You have to choose one: cats or dogs?: dogs

Would someone being either a cat or dog person affect you dating them?: no, i love both cats and dogs. i’m just biased towards dogs right now.

How do you travel to and from work?: car

Do you primarily use cash or card for your purchases? Why?: card

Have you ever been to a stadium concert?: yuuup

[vaampz]

VAV’s interview for SohuTV

disclaimer: this is a rough translation so it may contains inaccuracies. [original article]

Q: How long have you been trainees?

St. Van: The longest it should be Ayno.

Ayno: Yes, I have been a trainee for 9 years since I was a child. Now I am very happy. I am working hard on the VAV team. It is good to be a combination with my brother and friends and friends.

Jacob: I am the member with the sortest trainee time. I trained for almost a year and then debuted. During the period, I did not encounter any elimination, and it went smoothly.

Baron: Almost three to four years.

Lou: I’m almost three to four years.

Ziu: After five years of practice I debuted.

Ace: I am also had a trainee time of almost five to six years.

St.Van: Almost four to five years.

Q: What is the most memorable thing in the training period?

St. Van: When we first lived together in the dormitory, the dormitory would leak when it rained. There was water on the floor. Jacob slept in the top bunk, so sometimes when Jacob was sleeping, the rain would drip on his face. There is that we can't wash clothes in the dormitory at that time, so we will go to the laundry room to wash clothes.

Baron: It’s especially hot when is hot, and it’s really cold when it’s cold. You need to be careful when you are cold, and you may be dehydrated when you are hot. In this grim environment, we have been preparing for the album (...) When we practiced, (because of dancing) the mirror is full of water vapor, the degree that people can't see clearly, those days are really hard to forget.

Ace: My most memorable thing is that Ayno had a big cry when he was a trainee. At that time, this friend had just joined less than a week ago.

Trainee for a long time suffered a lot, you may then have a lot of pain, but also a lot of pressure (...) He’s here to come to this (VAV) and want to work hard to do it. Suddenly this scene emerged in my mind. Now he really grow up more. The then still very cute brother, now become a very handsome artist.

Ayno: Although the life of the trainee is very hard, these have become my wealth.

Q: What is the biggest difference between the debut and the practice period?

Ziu: I think the difference is that during the practice period, I went to practice for the debut. Now, after I debut, we have fans who are helping us. The biggest difference is with whether there are fans for our support.

Lou: As Ziu said, the biggest difference is whether there are fans who like us. And as we just said, we have been practicing for a long time before debuting, and the results after hard work are shown. It is different to show it to the company or to show it to ourselves, or to show our results to others.

Q: What is the deepest impression after debut?

Baron: We just finished the tour. There are many memories. I am very happy to see fans from all over the world. I am always excited when performing on the stage, so it is especially memorable, and we also want to meet Chinese fans as soon as possible.

Ayno: The debut song "Dance With Me" was the most impressive. It was really stressful at that time and I relied on my brothers. When I came down from the stage, I was particularly excited and expressed my happiness to the members. I was very happy at the time.

Baron: Speaking of "Dance With Me", I think of a little story. Ziu cried a lot after the end of the stage while returning home. This was a very deep feeling in the dormitory.

Ziu: I was sitting in the back seat of the car at the time. I was on the way home after the end of Showcase. I looked out the window and cried. I felt my dreams come true. My brothers, I love you.

Q: What is the happiest thing and the most distressing thing at this stage?

Ziu: First of all, the happiest thing at this stage is the efforts of our seven people. With fans who can see these, the most distressing thing is how to look more handsome? How can I let fans hear better songs and dance more handsome dances? There will always be such troubles.

Ace: I think the preparation of the album is the most interesting and fun thing, because practicing the favorite songs and dances, the most exciting moments of practice. Also when we were preparing for the album, we’re thinking about what kind of music fans and people liked, so that  was the most distressing moment when we were preparing for the album.

Q: What do you think is the most important qualification for an idol?

Baron: I think it's important to be able to express yourself. Although it is important to express myself between us, it is especially important to speak in front of the camera or in some actions. Like coquetry, although I don't know how to act spoil. I feel that I am more organized when I speak. People who speak more like Lou and Ace can make people feel very interesting and happy with words, and there are others who use action to bring joy to everyone. You can see these strengths of our members and it’s more fascinating.

Lou: It would be especially good if, personally, you zoom in on what you do. For example, Ayno's dance and rap are great, and then just continue to delve into each of their strengths. For example, Ace is very sexy, Jacob is very cute, Ziu is very interesting. Everyone has their own characteristics. If they each magnify their strengths, I believe that they will also bring extra points to the group.

Ayno: I think that for the idols, "cause" is very important, even if it does not need to be cultivated.

Jacob: Actually, I think that if I am a successful idol, although I am not very successful, I feel that if you want to be a successful idol, you need to work hard and stick to it. Talent this or that, as long as they persist in their efforts, they should certainly gain something, and they will succeed in the end. I believe that we’ll too.

Q: How do you try to make yourselves a better idol?

St.Van: If you want to say more on stage or elsewhere, every time we prepare a new album or practice a dance, we will do a lot of exercises. Do a lot of exercises in the mirror in your own part. The focus is not just on dance, but also on gestures and expressions. Especially when we are practicing dancing, Jacob will often help us adjust the movements.

Jacob: Actually, like my brother said is that when we are dancing in our practice room, sometimes I will... In fact, I am a little obsessive-compulsive, because I am a Virgo, sometimes see in the video that some places are not the same, or a little forced and tell them to let them change.

Ace: I have been sticking to sports all the time, in order to give everyone a better look, I also pay attention to the diet.

Ayno: I am very concerned about management. I will give myself a massage. If I press it from the bottom of my ear and press it along my neck, the lines will fade, and it will look younger.

Ace: Suddenly I remembered one thing. Yesterday Ayno suddenly searched the Internet for a way to widen the shoulders. The voice of "Teach you how to widen your shoulders" came from the video. It was really funny. Recently Ayno is very much about the shoulders.

Q: Do you have confidence in the future? Talk about your ambitions!

Ayno: My goal is to get number one in music with VAV, then enter China, communicate with more fans in China, and also want to do concerts and share music with fans.

Ace: I am very proud of our music. I have made a lot of attempts on every album. In order to bring more diverse and better listening music, I think we are always moving forward, and now we are also working hard to prepare. With new songs, I also practice dance carefully in order to show you a better side. I hope that this song will be shown to everyone, and I hope that I can hold a concert with everyone at the end of the year.

Baron: I want to be a singer that resonates with everyone through music events, and members like St.van, Lou, and Ayno are also working hard to write songs, hoping that their songs can be included in our album for everyone. To bring you more stories of good music, we will continue to work hard.

Lou: As Ace brother said, I am also very confident about our songs. My ambition is to hope that everyone will listen to our songs in the future and can say "ah, this is a VAV song", "VAV's song is worth a Listen," I hope we can leave this impression on everyone. We will continue to work hard.

Ziu: My ambition is to work hard with our six brothers to become a good artist.

Jacob: As mentioned by the previous members, I hope that our music can get good grades, go to more places to see more fans, and hope that we will have a long and long way to continue.

St.Van: I believe that our VAV can do better and better than now. Please support us a lot, we will also cheer more, thank you. 

[shelleyseale]

12 Days of Giving: The Gift of Nature Through the Japanese Art of Forest Bathing

This is the first in our special "12 Days of Giving" series running for the holiday season. It's a little different from what you might think of as traditional presents or giving. We aren't really talking about stuff you buy or a gift list. Rather, on these 12 days, we will be talking about different gifts that you can give to yourself, or others — gifts that have a deeper meaning, that can help you live with intention, be happier, be healthier. Soul gifts, you might even call them. Join us on the journey. The Gift of Nature: Connecting with the Natural World Through the Japanese Art of Forest Bathing

It's that moment when you step away from the man-made world and into the natural one, that your senses seem to heighten, your body's stress levels lower, and your mind's always-churning to-do list begins to quiet. Whether  it's a five-minute walk through your local park or sit in your own backyard, a miles-long hike in a forest, or a multi-day or week camping trip: there's always that sense of peace. Relaxation. Of coming home. This, my friends, is what we were born into — the natural world. This is where we originated from, and where we are meant to be. Our ancestors had no skyscrapers, cars, shopping malls, computers. They were fully engaged with nature for everything: their food, medicine, homes, livelihood and very existence. But for most of us living in today's busy, modern society, that world seems all too far away most of the time. And so we become more and more disconnected. More harried and stressed. More tied to technology, until we're unsure if we own our devices or if they own us. There's always something else to do, to think about, somewhere else to go, another mission to accomplish. But sometimes, we need to just slow down. Don't get me wrong here — I'm no hard-core outdoors type of person. Don't think I'm coming to you as one of those bad-asses who runs marathons or wild camps in the remote wilderness. My idea of camping firmly includes hot, running water, a comfortable sleeping spot, and wine. At the same time, I connect with nature at a primal level, and on a regular basis. We all do. But if you're anything like me, it's not nearly enough. You may sometimes wonder, like I do, how we can more easily disconnect for an hour, even, and let the healing, calming force of nature root us down again.

Welcome to shinrin-yoku, a Japanese tradition that is loosely defined as "forest bathing." I was introduced to this concept a couple of weeks ago — I had never heard the term before. What is this forest bathing, I wondered. Is it some kind of weird ritual where I have to go in the woods and jump in a river or unclothe and roll around in the grass or something? It sounded a little hippy-dippy, to be honest — but I'm kind of a granola, hippy-dippy kinda girl and always interested to learn something new. So, I was intrigued. Shinrin-yoku, forest bathing, as it turns out is simply this: a full sensory immersion in the beauty and wonder of nature.

It's experiencing nature with all your senses — not just seeing it, or touching it as you walk through it, but hearing it, smelling it, even tasting it. A raindrop on your tongue. The way a stream sounds as it gurgles over the rocks beside you. That hint of pine in the air as you enter a stand of conifer trees. It's letting nature wash over you. Rooted in the ancient Japanese reverence for nature, the practice of shinrin-yoku was started in Japan in the early 1980s, as a program to try and get the overworked citizens of Tokyo and other large cities to leave the urban areas for short periods of time, to spend some quiet, healing time in a nearby forest. Today, there are many designated shinrin-yoku forest and trails throughout Japan, and hundreds of thousands of people immerse themselves in them each year — taking advantage of the way nature restores mental equilibrium and physical health.

Melanie Choukas-Bradley I learned all of this from Melanie Choukas-Bradley, a Certified Nature and Forest Therapy Guide. Based out of Washington, D.C., Melanie has traveled throughout Japan participating in forest bathing walks led by shinrin-yoku guides; and she's the author of The Joy of Forest Bathing: Reconnect With Wild Places & Rejuvenate Your Life. I was invited on a forest bathing walk led by her, taking place at YMCA's Camp Moody in Buda, Texas, just south of where I live in Austin. I arrived at Camp Moody that morning with an eagerness to learn more about this practice, connect with nature and explore something new. Melanie, who had what she calls a "free-range childhood," writes in her book that most of us have very early, strong memories of experiences with nature. For her, it was the first time she saw a perfect snowflake. I was walking home from school on a path through the woods when a single snow crystal landed on a flat, dark rock in front of me. I knelt down and watched more snowflakes fall from the sky and land on the rock, each one perfect, each one unique, but perhaps none as perfect as the first. The dream-like quality of the snowflake memory is much like my other childhood memories of nature enchantment: finding the first woodland wildflowers just after snow melt in the spring; lying on a bed of moss and looking up into the leafy branches of a white birch tree; diving into a cold ocean wave and then burying myself in the warm sand. Childhood nature memories can easily be called up by a specific fragrance, a sound, a sight, or a general feeling of well-being. Melanie was there to greet our small group of about eight at the main pavilion of the camp, which is pretty much undeveloped land right now — seeming to make it a perfect location for forest bathing. Camp Moody is an 85-acre multi-use site for day and overnight camps, group events, retreats and outdoor education. Nestled along Onion Creek and scenic limestone bluffs, the YMCA has big plans for some really cool development of the property that was donated by George Yonge in 1999, which includes cabins, dining and recreational facilities to fit in with the natural world around it.

Photo courtesy of YMCA Camp Moody Megan Arnold with the YMCA said that the goal of Camp Moody is to connect families to nature. "With kids being connected to technology about seven-and-a-half hours per day, we're raising a generation that isn't connected to nature," she said. "They might not care about preservation, our national parks, etc. We want to change that." In keeping with the Y mission, they are also making sure Camp Moody is accessible to all, financially, geographically and physical ability-wise.

Before we began the walk, Melanie set our expectations. "This isn't going to be a vigorous, aerobic 'hike,'" she said. "It isn't goal-oriented; the point is to go slow, to take it all in, to be aware of the surroundings and discover the nature around us." What she was saying reminded me of what John Muir said about hiking: "I don't like either the word or the thing. People ought to saunter in the mountains - not hike! Do you know the origin of that word 'saunter?' It's a beautiful word. Away back in the Middle Ages people used to go on pilgrimages to the Holy Land, and when people in the villages through which they passed asked where they were going, they would reply, 'A la sainte terre — To the Holy Land.' And so they became known as sainte-terre-ers, or saunterers. Now these mountains are our Holy Land, and we ought to saunter through them reverently, not 'hike' through them." ~John Muir And so we set out on our "saunter" — or rather, our forest bathing, a notion that I suspect that John Muir would have liked a great deal. Melanie invited us to walk in silence, to just enjoy the peace of nature and use all our sense to take it in as we moved through it. After a few minutes we reached the banks of a gurgling creek and paused for the first of her invitations. As we moved along our walk through nature, Melanie would issue an invitation for us to choose to take or leave. Listen to what you hear; notice what is moving around you; choose something that speaks to you. Every so often we would stop, and each person could share with the group if they so chose. At one spot down by a small running stream, we took a longer pause to find our own little spot and spend silent time immersing ourselves in the forest. The water running over the rocks was so soothing, and already — after less than half an hour in nature — I was feeling gloriously, refreshingly disconnected from the outside world. It would all still be waiting for me when I got back to it. so there was no need to do anything except be fully present in this moment. To enjoy the feeling of being once again primally connected to the earth and where we came from, and away from the hustle-and-bustle of modern life. I listened to the water, breathed in the clear air deeply, and became intrigued with a fuzzy caterpillar making its way over leaf by leaf in the little stream. Melanie had told us a little about the mountains of research that has shown what a real, measurable positive effect time spent in nature has on us. It's been proven to lower our blood pressure, pulse rates and cortisol levels; increase heart rate variability (this is a good thing!); and improve mood. As her book on forest bathing says, plants generate compounds called phytoncides to protect themselves from pathogens, and when we are in nature, these same airborne phytoncides that we breath in may even help protect our human bodies in ways that could increase our immunity to things like cancer and other diseases. The physical, mental and emotional health benefits of time spent in nature have been corroborated by researchers in North America, the U.K., Europe, China and South Korea. I believed it. I felt it. As our walk came to an end, we gathered in a clearing to enjoy a tea ceremony, and one of our group read the very appropriate poem, Wild Geese, by Mary Oliver. You can start your own forest bathing practice in your own adopted “wild home,” encompassed in three steps: 1. Disengagement from your daily routine 2. Deep breathing and nature connection through a series of quiet activities or “invitations” 3. Transitioning back to your daily life This restorative activity can be enjoyed by people of all ages and abilities: children, teenagers, and even senior citizens with limited mobility and people recovering from illness and surgery. And you don’t need to travel to the Japanese alps to experience the benefits of forest bathing. All you need is a small patch of untouched (or lightly touched) nature to adopt as your “wild home.”

Read the full article

[mintyvan]

Almost Lover

Hey lovelies! I’m writing a new chaptered fic called “Almost Lover” based on these requests:

van is “whipped” and will do anything for a girl he likes

A.S.A. songfic

meeting van at a concert that isn’t his

young-ish van ( like 16/17 ) where the reader goes on holiday with her parents and stays at van’s parents b&b 

anything young van pls

I hope you enjoy the first chapter! Not all the requests will be in this chapter; they’ll come soon enough. Woo hoo! Long chaptered fics just might be my favorite. This one will have nine parts!

If you like the first chapter of this one, be sure to check out my other completed one :-).

________________________

CHAPTER ONE OF NINE: LIKE, PROPER LOVE YOU

“Fuck, I left my ID in Jessica’s car.”

“No worries, I’ll get them. Stay out here.”

You sat on the cold sidewalk outside, shivering in your flannel as you waited patiently in the dark.

He burst out the door of the bar five minutes later with eight shots of vodka on a tray he probably wasn’t supposed to bring out of the bar at all, and laid them between you on the cold concrete as he sat cross-legged in front of you on the sidewalk. His eyes reflected the lights on the inside.

“Four apiece?” you asked.

“You know the drill.”

Half an hour later, tray forgotten, both stumbling through the streets of your tiny town, you giggled as he darted up a fenced alleyway between two fancy houses’ yards; the favorite spot. It was a fortunate landscaping error. The fences in each yard were supposed to meet together at the property line, but one person built theirs three feet inwards, leaving a reasonable sized gap you and Van loved to sneak into after hours.

The lush vines and vegetation poked through the chain link fence on the left side as you and Van backed up to the wooden fence. He put his arms on either side of your head, gripping the tops of the wooden slats with cold fingers.

“I love you,” he passionately stated, drunk eyes rimmed with red.

“I know,” you said, punching his shoulder lightly.

“Like, proper love you,” he reiterated.

“Van, I know,” you giggled, pushing his hot breathy mouth away from your cheek.

“When you gonna let me kiss you?” he asked, before pressing you back to the wall.

“You’re always on about this,” you darted away from his body, boots crunching in the dirt and shoulders leaning on the chain link across from him instead. The vines tickled your neck. “Just let it go, mate.”

“One kiss. I’ll leave it alone forever if you don’t like it,” he said, taking a jumpy step forward and landing in front of you. His movements appeared faster to you in your inebriated state.

“You said that last time you were drunk,” you rebutted, walking around him in a tight circle back to where you originally stood when he started the conversation.

“And you still haven’t let me kiss you,” he laughed, wiggling his eyebrows as he turned.

You were dreamily drunk under the heavy blanket of night, and his eyes revealed a lot more of the emotion bubbling up underneath his thick leather jacket. You didn’t like when he got romantic on you. You took a step back and let your shoulders fall against the wood fence.

Maybe it was because you felt like he’d stop pushing you about the kiss if you gave in, or maybe it was because you felt like the universe owed you a kiss in the unfortunate dry spell you were experiencing in your love life, but you shot him a tentative look that made his eyes sparkle. “You can kiss me. Once.”

He gave a coy thumbs up and took the one step to cross the tiny gap. He placed his hands on your cheeks, and pressed his cold lips to yours. You pushed him off after they comfortably touched for a few seconds, unfortunately unmoving, and your lips made a slight slick kiss sound from the pressure release as he stepped back, guided by your hands.

“That wasn’t as good as I expected from you,” you stated, also confused by your disappointment.

“You didn’t even give me a chance,” he laughed, slouching down to your level. “Next time.”

“Oh, so there’s going to be a next time, huh?” you poked his belly, slightly surprised by the firmness that rested there. He smiled down at the hand that had touched his belly.

“Yeah, tomorrow night. I need you for the reopening of the bed and breakfast. It’s black tie, an’ that. My parents still think we’re goin’ steady and if they don’t think I’m doing somethin’ with my life they’re gonna cut me off from the band, essentially.” He had reverted back to thoughtful Van.

“Are you serious?”

“About which part? All of ‘em, I guess.”

You groaned, and palmed your forehead. Black tie. Sociability. Responsibilities to your friends. Nothing fun to think about when drunk. You stood in silence, playing with the corner of your flannel shirt while watching your cold breath fan out in front of you. The toe of Van’s boot dug around in the dirt beside him.

“Does it still hurt?” he spoke up, voice muffled by the collar of his jacket.

“Hmm?”

“Not being with him.”

“You mean ---”

“Yeah.”

“Well we broke up about a month ago so I’d say I’m over it now.”

He nodded once. “He really broke your heart. I hated to see it.”

“Yeah,” you said, wrapping your arms around yourself. You had no idea why he was asking.

“It gets lonely sometimes, now, being on my own,” you said. A pause from him.

“I know how you feel.”

“Do you?” you asked him sadly, looking up into his eyes for the first time since the kiss. The corner of his mouth dipped slightly, a half apology for fomenting those breakup feelings again.

He hugged your waist, supple leather brushing up against the soft flannel of your shirt, and nuzzled his nose softly beneath your ear as a consolation.

“I know we have to do things like this in public to keep our parents convinced we’re dating but you don’t have to do it constantly when we’re most definitely out of their view,” you said in false annoyance.

His nose poked in the hollow of your neck, and his breath washed over your cold skin. You sat there for a few minutes, hidden tightly in his arms, letting him hug the sad drunk girl out of you. You started to secretly wish he’d stay there for the sake of it; he was warm, and you liked how he felt. The shots’ effects were fully fledged still and your head was swimming with adoration and friendship for him. His lips felt good brushing up against your neck softly in the embrace.

You shakily exhaled, obviously enjoying the contact, and he peeked up at you from where his head was drunkenly buried in your neck.

He pulled back and stared into your eyes for several heartbeats, searching for permission. You stared back at him and before you could think, you closed your eyes and impulsively brushed noses with him. The slightest nod, and his lips touched yours again. It was desperate; your breathing had let on how much you needed someone, anyone, to help you in the moment, and he was more than willing to fulfill your wants.

His hands began to roam your back, fingers splayed over your shirt, flannel pressing into your soft flesh. His tongue swiped out and you let him explore your mouth with his. A soft sigh from him earned him the privilege to dip under the front of your shirt and feel your hip bones. His fingers traveled up and up until he reached the curve of your breast. Your head swam with liquor and lack of oxygen and your incredible decision not to wear a bra and his lips parted from yours ever so slightly.

“You want to come home with me?” you breathily whispered into his lips. You opened your eyes.

The beam of a flashlight hit straight into your retinas from across the yard, and your sharp intake of breath alerted Van to the light. He turned around, and you broke contact with him, sprinting down the gaps between yards with burning lungs as someone shouted curses at you, the crunching of his urgent racing over dead leaves echoing loudly behind you as you ran. The cold ripped your throat apart with gusts of harsh wind and your flannel whipped open with every step; you knew Van was right behind you. A dog barked in the near distance and your adrenaline kicked in.

The rich were always anal about kids like you lurking around, and weren’t afraid of setting their dogs loose on anyone who dared trespass even slightly.

When your lungs were about to burst and your feet ached with a deadly combination of almost-frostbite and exercise, you reached Benji’s backyard gate. His was the closest safe house to The Spot. You and Van both fell into the garden and laughed nervously at the events that transpired. Benji was sat on the small deck with a cup of tea, finger pointing to his watch, as if he were waiting on cue.

“Y/N, half past eleven. Leg it,” he urged, and you groaned.

“I can drive you home,” Van replied. You doubted his sobriety. Despite the scare, you could still feel the alcohol palpitating in your blood.

“Course you can,” Benji sarcastically laughed under his breath, and you sighed. He always teased Van for his chivalry. You decided to ignore Benji.

“No, mine’s just ‘round the corner, I can fast-walk like he said,” you declared to Van, whose languid expression dropped to one of poorly-masked disappointment.

“Let me at least walk you to your gate,” he blurted, cold blue lips shivering in the floodlight on Benji’s deck. You didn’t want to say no to him, but you knew he’d try to make something out of tonight. It had already gone farther than you’d intended. His eyes were still red-rimmed and glassy.

“I’m fine,” you kissed his cheek squarely, avoiding his eyes. You waved to Benji, and after strutting out of his yard quickly with the gate clunking woodenly behind you, you hurried your way down the street.

You jumped the gate to your front door and dug the key out of the flowerpot at the front. No car was parked in the drive; your dad wasn’t home.

“I am the luckiest bitch in the world,” you whispered to yourself, disbelief soaking into the little laughs you emitted when you walked through the door.

You slid through the hallways in your fuzzy socks, enjoying the electrifying static feeling you were picking up along the way. You spotted a note in the kitchen with a box laid out on the table.

Y/N, sweetheart ---

Something came up at work and they need me to go to headquarters in Liverpool for two nights to work out some books they think are fraudulent. I’m sorry but I’ve got to miss Mary and Bernie’s grand reopening tomorrow. I know they’re dead excited for it after the kitchen fire incident. They’ve come a long way. I went ahead and bought that dress you were eyeing at the shops the other day. I know everyone will love it. I figured that’s what cool dads do, right??

Kisses,

Dad

Shit. You replayed the kissing with Van over and over in your head. If you’d actually snuck Van inside and found your father wasn’t home, you really would have done it in the moment. With Van. You shivered, and distracted yourself with the gift.

You pulled open the lid of the box, and sighed happily. Your dad really was the coolest, and the best at cheering you up, despite his current absence.

There it lay: the matte black dress you’d almost cried over at the boutique window a few weeks ago. A deep V neck all the way to the waist, high squared shoulders, and a slim-fitting waist that dropped to the floor elegantly. You couldn’t wait to try it on.

[gldngrl7]

Karamel Fic: Permission to Flourish (7/11)

Title: Permission to Flourish

Author: gldngrl7

Date Started: February 12, 2017

Rating: T for Teen (I know!  I can’t believe it either!)

  Author’s Notes:  

This story is the sequel to Bulletproof. Please read that one-shot before diving into this one.

This chapter introduces another original character that I really loved writing.  I always knew that Mike was going be stubborn and that he was going to need a lot of outside influences to help him reach his decision.  He needed someone to tell him it was okay to stop thinking with his head and start thinking with his heart again.

Comments are welcomed, flames are destroyed with my freeze breath.

So many many thanks to my those who’ve taken the time to comment: @lostin-the-desert @anaveragegirl15 @threesilverthings88 @emarasmoak @myfangirlinghq

           I'll close my eyes

                 Then I won't see

                       The love you don't feel

                                   When you're holding me

          Mornin' will come

                   And I'll do what’s right

                           Just give me till then

                                       To give up this fight

            And I will give up this fight

 --Bonnie Raitt – “I Can’t Make You Love Me”

  Chapter 7/11

  Playing Valor left Mike stinking of fire and fumes, and in desperate need of a shower.  Back in his slacks and plaid shirt, he landed in a clump of trees before hopping the back fence into the yard of the house where he rented a garage apartment.  It wasn’t close to work, but the undeveloped forest area behind his street made for perfect cover when he needed to slip in and out undetected.

 Years ago, Elam Scheinbaum, worried about how his wife would survive without him on a fixed income, had spent a portion of their life savings converting their detached garage into a fully functional studio apartment.  It was an investment in her golden years, allowing her to have a modest income from the tenant’s monthly rent payment.

 Walking across the yard, he heard the back door of the main house open, just as the patio light flicked on.  “Michael, is that you?” came a soft, uncertain voice.

 “It’s me, Mrs. Scheinbaum,” he reassured.  Even with the light on, her eyesight wasn’t the best at night.

 “Oh goodness,” she gasped, her hand fluttering over her chest.  “You’re home awfully late.”

 “One of my students was in an accident at school. I’ve been at the hospital with her mother,” he explained, before redirecting the conversation.  “You’re up awfully late.”

 “Well…my hips, you know,” she referred to the pain that sometimes kept her awake at night.

 “I’m sorry to hear that.”

 “Such a sweet boy,” she gushed.  Mrs. Scheinbaum was a tiny little thing, made even more diminutive by time and gravity.  The top of her kerchiefed head barely came up to his chest, and there were times he was terrified that if he touched her she would shatter to pieces.

 Being utterly clueless, Mike had asked about the kerchiefs once over an afternoon tea with his landlady (she loved to have him for tea on Sunday afternoons), and she explained that she and her husband Elam had worshipped in the Orthodox Jewish faith at the beginning of their marriage, where it was required for a woman to keep her hair covered for anyone other than her husband.  Over the years their religious practice had become more and more moderate as their four children entered their lives, but even with the shift in her practice, she never felt quite herself unless her head was covered.  Even with her husband dead for the last decade, Mike had never seen her head uncovered.

 “And I’ve been watching the coverage on the fire at the refinery.  My Eli worked summers there when he was in college.  Did I tell you that?”

 Her eldest son, Elijah had gotten his college degree in chemical engineering more than three decades ago and moved away shortly after having found work in Louisiana.  These days, he made brief visits to his mother during the holiday seasons with his wife and kids in tow.  “No, Mrs. Scheinbaum, you never told me that,” he shook his head.  Forgetting the reason why he had rushed home, Mike stepped closer to her.

 “How many times do I have to tell you to call me Naomi?” she teased.

 “Just once more, Mrs. Scheinbaum,” he teased right back, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose.

 “Such a good boy,” she muttered, shaking her head. Mike sometimes wondered if she felt her own sons weren’t good boys.  “Your mother must have raised you right.”  

 Mike thought that couldn’t be further from the truth, but answered her assumption with an upwards tilt of his lips.  Everything he had learned about being a good man he’d learned from Kara and Lois.  And from the example set by Clark.

 Her eyes squinted a little, suspiciously, as she looked at him.  “Come to think of it…I didn’t hear your car in the driveway.”

 “I had trouble starting my car,” he lied.  “I took an Uber.”

 She sniffed the air.  “You need a shower, Michael,” she suggested in that way that was more of a demand.

 “I was just about to….”

 “Take your shower, Michael.  I’ll put the kettle on.  You look like you could use a nice cup of tea.”

 She wasn’t wrong.  The earthly beverage of hot tea had restorative properties that couldn’t be explained or quantified – at least not by someone like him.  And after the day he’d had, a cup of tea sounded like just what he needed.

 Mike moved to step back, but her hand reached out to grab his wrist.  Her grip was tight, despite her age, the strength of a woman who had raised four strapping sons and had been given no quarter, nor had she offered any.  “I may be old, Michael, but I know what’s going on. I see things.  I also smell things.”

 His heart skipped in his chest as he instinctually shuttered his eyes and cleared his throat.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mrs. Scheinbaum,” he evaded. “I was just trying to get my car started.”

 She winked and gripped his wrist tighter, as if she knew he was too afraid of breaking her to pull away.  “Of course you were.  I just wanted you to know…that I know.   You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want.  That’s all right, Michael.  Just know that I’m paying attention and I’m cheering you on.  And that you’ll always have a place in my home.”

 “Well I…thank you,” he said, deciding to let it go. He could never convince a 90-year-old widow that she didn’t know what she thought she knew.  It was a waste of time and breath.

 “Go on then,” she said, releasing his hand. “The kettle won’t take long to boil and I’ll have your cup ready for you.”

 Mike nodded and slipped away, out of the circle of the porch light, until he was unlocking the door to his apartment and flipping on the lights inside.  The flat was modest with a small kitchen, a bathroom with a shower, a full-sized bed in one corner and an entertainment center and sofa in another.  He didn’t need much and the apartment served his needs. The rent was cheap enough that he was able to put money in savings for a rainy day – or in the event he ever hastily needed a change of identity.

 He wasn’t worried on that score when it came to Mrs. Scheinbaum.  She may know what she knew but she would never breathe a word about it to anyone, not even to her gaggle of ladies with whom she played regular games of Canasta. Mike suspected that having him here, just a few steps away from her home, made her feel safe and if that were true, how could he take that away from her by telling her she was wrong?

 Mike could have showered before the water had a chance to steam up, but instead he took a few minutes to enjoy the feeling of the day and all of its drama being rinsed from his body and circling down the drain.  It was, of course, a pipe dream (aha!) but it was a lovely notion all the same.  Shower complete, he towel dried and left his hair wet and sticking out, straw-like from his head.  Mike donned his steamed up glasses again, as well as a pair of cargo shorts and a tee shirt, before slipping on a cheap, worn pair of flip-flops he usually only wore when he did the yard work outside, or took the trash bins to the curb on Wednesday nights.

 As predicted, she was dropping his preferred three sugar cubes into a steaming teacup when he walked in the back door. He’d been here a thousand times or more, but a part of him still waited to be invited like a little boy visiting a friend’s house.  She waved a hand, offering him his usual chair at the table, which he gladly accepted.

 “I’d tell you all this sugar will rot your teeth,” she smiled.  “But I suppose your teeth don’t rot, do they?”

 Mike opened his mouth to play off her suggestion, treat it like a funny game between them, or to once more suggest, quite unbelievably, that he didn’t know what she was talking about.  But then, he thought better of it.  What harm would it to do to give her the confirmation she so desperately wanted?  After all, he trusted her.  Knew her heart and knew that she would never intentionally reveal his secret.  It would be nice to have someone know – someone he could talk to face to face.

 Clark had drilled into him the necessity of maintaining the mask and had Mike had listened well, soaking up the advice from the man who made being a superhero an art form.  But Clark Kent had never meant this.  Don’t reveal yourself before others, before people you can’t contain. On the playground today, he had come a hairsbreadth from breaking that rule and he would have, had Supergirl not shown up just in the nick of time.

 But this wasn’t what Clark had meant when he’d taught Mike that rule.  Decide who you can trust with your secret.  Choose wisely.  Buried beneath the lessons, that had been in the hidden truth.

 “No, they don’t rot,” he answered her query, waiting for the regret to wash over him for revealing his true self.  It never came.  Without a hint of flair or drama, Mike reached up and removed his glasses, setting them on the table in front of him.

 Her eyebrows rose, as though she hadn’t been expecting him to crumble to her will quite so easily.  She threw back her head and laughed, a soft, raspy sound he found contagious.  “That must be nice,” she said, at last.  “I had a full set of dentures by the time I was seventy-two.  Sometimes I think we were only meant to live for as long as our teeth last.  Where are you from, Michael?  Krypton? Like Superman?”

 Unlike with Superman and Supergirl, there hadn’t been a massive media onslaught when he’d flown onto the scene.  No interviews or questions.  They’d made assumptions, of course but nothing they’d bothered to attempt confirming.  No one had even requested an exclusive, or if they had, he hadn’t been made aware. Alien superheroes were kind of old hat by then.

 “Daxam,” he answered.  Even though he didn’t need the tea to cool down to drink it, out of habit he did as humans did and blew at the steamy liquid.    “It is…was…in the same solar system as Krypton.  Like Supergirl, I grew up on a planet with a red sun.  When my planet was being bombarded with the remains of Krypton, I managed to escape in the flight pod of a Kryptonian emissary – who was already dead, or so I was told.  And that’s my story,” he said, as if wasn’t just the tip of the iceberg.

 She took a sip of her own tea, cream no sugar, staring out the kitchen nook window to the garage he called home.  “It must be a lonely life.”

 “There are other benefits,” he shrugged, but he couldn’t hide the desolate tone buried in his voice.

 “You know…my friend Ellen has a single granddaughter close to your age.  Lovely girl,” she announced, as though deciding to solve his loneliness problem in one night.  “A handsome boy like you should really have a girl.”  Then her head snapped up, tilting to one side to take a better measure of him. Her eyes twinkled in the soft glow of the kitchen light.  “Or a boy,” she said, with a casual shrug as though unflustered by such things.  “My friend Marion has a son who just broke up with his partner.  They were together for fifteen years, if you can believe it.  Perhaps he might be interested in a blind date.”

 Mike laughed.  He couldn’t help himself, because she seemed so invested in seeing him happy, and it had been a long time since anyone had cared.  “I appreciate the sentiment, Mrs. Scheinbaum, but….” He trailed off.  His heart panged in his chest like a hard strike to a gong that reverberated throughout his entire body.  He’d actually managed to go a few hours without thinking about Kara.

 “But your heart belongs to someone else,” she inferred from the look on his face.

 “I’m afraid so,” he answered, without bothering to reconsider his response, or to couch it in vaguer terms.

 “One day I’ll get that story out of you, Michael,” she insisted.

 “One day…I’m sure you will.”

 “Well don’t wait too long,” she warned.  “I’m ninety years old.  I don’t have many days left.”

 Mike grew sad at the thought of losing her.  Humans were so delicate and their lifespans so short. For some, death couldn’t find them fast enough as far as he was concerned, but for others like Naomi Scheinbaum, death would come all too soon, taking a bright light from the world when it did.  “I’m sure you’ll outlive us all,” he replied, wishful thinking.  

 “Nonsense,” the old woman sighed, taking a sip of her tea, and looking older than he’s ever seen her.   “I’ve seen too much of this world.  It will be time to be reunited with my Elam soon.”

 Her eyes glowed with such promise, as if the thought of dying didn’t scare her in the slightest, especially if it meant being with her lost love.  Mike hoped that while he was alive, Elam Scheinbaum knew exactly how lucky he was to be loved by a woman like Naomi with her whole soul.  His heart panged again at the thought, wishing hopelessly that he could have a love like that.  It occurred to Mike that Mrs. Scheinbaum might be just the person to hear his story, and now might be just the time to tell it.

 “I had a visit from her today,” he began, taking a sip of his tea and tasting the sweetness on his tongue.

 Sharp as a tack despite her advanced age, she quickly inferred, “The girl you love?”

 “Yes,” he replied.  “I haven’t seen her for six years.  When I landed on this planet…I disrupted her life…became a burden to her. In a way I became her responsibility. She was beautiful and strong and so compassionate to other people and so…determined.  She didn’t know how to give up – even when it would have been smarter and safer to quit.  I fell in love with her because it was impossible not to…and because she was impossible.”

 “She sure sounds like something special,” Mrs. Scheinbaum said, her tone gently encouraging him to continue.

 ‘She was,” he agreed, remembering those early days before he’d screwed it up by opening his mouth – or by kissing her in the first place.  He’d take it all back if he could; to return to the time when she was training him and they were having good times and a lot of laughter.  “But then I had to go and tell her how I felt.”

 “She didn’t feel the same?”

 Mike shook his head slowly.  “I wasn’t exactly the man she deserved.  I was selfish and self-centered; I wasn’t serious enough. We were so different, believed in different things.  We disagreed a lot.  I didn’t have the first clue what she needed or how to give it to her. Until…she came to me and said that she could never be with me.  That even if she had the time or the inclination to date someone, it wouldn’t be a man like me.  That’s when I knew….that the best thing I could do for her…what she needed…was for me to leave.  So I did.”

 “It’s what you both needed.  At the time,” she suggested.

 “Both needed?”

 “You were like a gosling, Michael, imprinting on the first person to make a significant impact on your life after your arrival.  You had no one and everything you knew was gone. You clung to her, perhaps enough to frighten her.  She became your…everything and that’s not good when you don’t even know who you are yet. But you did the right thing, dear. You departed the nest and, in the process, learned to fly on your own.  And look at you now…when you’re not using your powers to save lives, you’re a schoolteacher who molds young minds and shapes futures.  For an abysmal amount of money, might I add.  Tell me how that’s selfish and self-centered,” she huffed, obstinately.

 “It’s like I’m still clinging to her,” Mike said. “I’ve never been able to forget her…to move on.”

 “Maybe you’re not supposed to,” she suggested, pouring him a second cup of tea, and sliding the sugar bowl in his direction. “What was it like to see her again?”

 “It was like falling and knowing that hitting the ground is the only thing that’s going to stop you.”  A feeling with which he was all too familiar, thanks to Clark’s long-suffering, and increasingly enterprising attempts to teach him to fly.

 “Sounds like love.”  She smiled ruefully and sighed.  “I miss that feeling.  When just looking into his eyes is like stepping off a cliff.  When it’s right…when you’re in it together it’s okay though, because you know you have a soft place to land.”

 But that was exactly Mike’s problem.  Kara didn’t feel like a soft place to land, she felt like a bed of jagged rocks amongst a churning, pounding surf.

 “Why was she here?” Mrs. Scheinbaum asked.  “Here on business?”

 “You could say that.  She tracked me a down,” he told her.  “A mutual friend told her where to find me.  After six years of keeping it a secret.”

 “Secret?’ her thin, well-groomed eyebrows wrinkled her brow.  “Now this is getting interesting.  Why such secrecy, Michael?”

 “I wanted her to move on with her life.  I wanted it to be like I never landed in her backyard. Never screwed up her life.”

 “There’s only three reasons why a women would hunt down a man: love, greed, or revenge.  Which was it?”  Mrs. Scheinbaum leaned forward, teasing him in a conspiratorial whisper.

 “I left without saying goodbye,” he explained. “She just wanted the last word.”

 “So she just came to tell you off?  She put a lot of care into not caring about you.”

 “No…it wasn’t…like that….”  Mike’s mind went back to that scene in the hospital cafeteria. The tears he hadn’t wanted to see, still didn’t want to accept, and didn’t want to let in because he knew the damage they could do to the Kevlar around his heart.

 “What was it then?”

 “She told me she didn’t mean the things she’d said that night.  That she’d been young and stupid and scared.  She said that she was sorry…for all of it.  That it was the biggest regret of her life.  She said she liked me, but hadn’t known how to tell me or what to do about it.”

 “And did she tell you she still loves you?”

 “No,” he shook his head.  “Why?”

 “Because she does.”

 “No,” he insisted, “this was just her—“

 “You told me she was strong and determined and impossible,” Mrs. Scheinbaum interrupted.  “A woman like that doesn’t track a man down after six years and lay her heart at his feet unless she loves him.  Why is it so hard for you to believe that someone could you love you, Michael?”

 “I don’t know,” he mumbled.  “Maybe because no one ever has.”

 “You need to let yourself be loved, Michael.  It’s not hard,” she promised.  “You just have to….lean into it, and let it sweep you away. You did it once,” she pointed out. Mrs. Scheinbaum reached out, placing a hand, gnarled with age, the skin as thin and breakable as tissue paper, over his.  “Surely it can’t be any harder than learning to fly,” she winked.

 He chuckled, his voice dry and raspy despite the tea.  “You’d be surprised.”

 “My marriage to Elam was arranged,” she confessed, causing his eyes to widen.  “Not a popular notion these days, I know,” she waved a hand.  Being from Daxam, this was a concept he understood, but Naomi Scheinbaum was the first person of his earthly acquaintance who’d been in an arranged marriage.  “I was born in The Netherlands in 1934.   My family had been in the diamond business for four generations—it was amongst the first industries the Nazis sacked when they invaded Holland.  They needed industrial grade diamonds to build weapons, you understand.  Anyway, when you run a diamond business you learn quickly to be paranoid, to take security very seriously, and so my father was always prepared.  The Germans had already invaded Denmark, Norway, France and Luxembourg – he knew it was only a matter of time.  So he sent us—my mother and brother—out of the country to be safe as soon as he sensed the wolves were at the gate.    I arrived here when I was barely six years old, clinging so tightly to my mother’s hand when we stepped off the boat in New York.  We had a suitcase each and a small bag of cut diamonds, tucked in my underpants, to start a new life.  My father’s younger brother and his family arrived a month later.  That is when we learned my father had died at the hands of the Nazis that ransacked his business.”

 She’d been just like him once – long ago.  A stranger in a strange land where nothing made sense and the road home had closed behind them.  He covered her hand with his to let him know he understood – he truly did.

 “After the war, there were so few of us left it seemed, the Nazis had killed so many.  Elam fought in the war in his own way.  Though as an Orthodox he was a conscientious objector and wouldn’t pick up a gun, but at sixteen he had inherited his father’s printing business and so he offered his services to the war effort that way.  Printing propaganda leaflets and fliers – ‘Buy War Bonds’, ‘Loose Lips Sink Ships’ – that sort of thing.” Mrs. Scheinbaum rolled her eyes and tilted back her head, as though recalling what a silly child she once one. “And he was ancient when we met,” she said.  “Oh, Michael, he was so old!  Twenty-nine,” she chuckled.

 Mike laughed.  “Walking with a cane, was he?”

 “He might as well have been,” she insisted.  “I was seventeen,” she explained.  “Anyone older than the age my brother reached had one foot in the grave.”

 “What happened to your brother?”

 “He was twelve when we immigrated.  He would have turned right back around to go fight the Nazis if he could have.  After Pearl Harbor, there were lines out the door of the army recruitment centers. Nate was one of the first to sign up. He was barely nineteen years old at the time.  He died in August 1944 – buried in Normandy.

 “I’m very sorry.”

 “In 1951, our community was just beginning to recover from the war.  So many losses.  There wasn’t one among us who didn’t lose someone.  In our grief and our determination to continue on…to spit in the face of what the Nazis did to us…we banded together to renew our faith, to say…’We are still here”.  We married…we had children, because we believed God demanded it of us.  To be fruitful and multiply.  Elam saw me one Sabbath at temple and that was all it took. I don’t know what he saw in me, but he approached my uncle to ask for intercession.  My uncle encouraged the match but didn’t force it.  Elam was a good man who could make a good living and those were hard to come by after the war.  I didn’t love him, but I thought, ‘I should snap this man up before someone else does.’  And so I did. I was very pragmatic for a seventeen-year-old.”

 “I guess it worked out.”

 “Not at first,” she said.  “We were strangers who shared a bed, and then…a child and then…two. We made a life and we lived it together, but I held myself back.  To this day, I don’t know why.  Maybe it was because my father never survived the Nazi invasion, or because my brother died on Omaha Beach.  Maybe a part of me thought I would just lose my husband too.  Elam wanted more than what we had, that was clear from day one. He wanted love and so…that’s what he gave me.  He invested his love in me, in the hopes that someday he would see a return on that investment.  I struggled with my feelings every day.  It wasn’t that I didn’t feel anything, you see.  It’s that I didn’t want to feel anything.  Part of me wanted to shove it all down into a dark hole and forget all about it.”

 “So what changed?” he wondered.

 “One day I realized that this was not what God intended when he made us…this building of walls around our heart.  God…the Universe,” she translated for his benefit, understanding that their belief systems were not the same, “wants us together. Draws us together, like the sea to a shore.  After seven years, he was my best friend, he knew everything there was to know about me – the places I liked to hide.  His investment of love had quietly and artfully filled the gaps left behind by my father and my brother.   One day I looked at him and I saw something…inescapable, but more importantly…that I didn’t want to escape it.  I was exhausted from swimming against his current.”

 “What did you do?”

 “I leaned into it, Michael,” she smiled.  “That’s all.  I leaned into it, and the rest was easy.”  She reached up and cupped his cheek, the tissue paper thin skin of hands softer than silk.  “This girl,” she said.  “You have to ask yourself…’is she inescapable?’  Do you think you can do that?”

 He nodded, though he already knew the answer to the question.

 “I poured a healthy dose of whiskey into my tea, and the room is spinning a bit.  Do you think you could help me to my room, dear?  I think I’ll be able to get some sleep now.”

 “Oh, of course,” he jumped from his chair and offered an arm to help her from hers.  She gripped him tightly as he walked her down the hall to her bedroom. Her sheets were already pulled back from an earlier attempt to sleep, so she slipped in easily and pulled the sheets around her.  Mike flicked the switch on the lamp beside her bed and plunged the room into darkness.

 “Goodnight Spaceman,” she said, her words already slurring with sleep.

 Mike chuckled.  “Good night, Mrs. Scheinbaum.  Sweet dreams.”

 A light snore was already coming from the covers by the time he closed her bedroom door behind him.  In the kitchen, he washed out their tea cups, setting them out to dry and put away the rest of the tea service, before grabbing his glasses from the table, slipping out of the back door, and over to his apartment.

 Mrs. Scheinbaum had given him a lot to think about, which left him tossing and turning on his mattress, unable to sleep. Giving up on the idea of getting any sleep at all tonight, he reached for his he phone on the charger on the bedside table.

 He could always catch up on some email.

 TBC

[iheartsurveys]

138

1. Who’s your favourite character on Boy Meets World? Wow what a great question. I loved Shawn because he was bae. But Feeny is also great 2. Do you have underbite or overbite? I guess kind of an overbite ish 3. Do you like those red flowers they put out during the holiday season? Yes 4. When was the last time you used poster board for? Last year during Greek week my little was competing in one of the events and I made her a sign because I'm cool and supportive like that 5. Have you ever ridden in a U-Haul? I haven't 6. Who was the last person to message you over facebook? Ummm not sure and I don't feel like looking 7. Do you like Auntie Anne’s pretzels? What’s your favourite flavour? Yessss I love auntie Anne's. I get original, the regular ones with salt ugh so good 8. Do you like folk rock? I do 9. Do you ever go to bed with her hair wet? Maybe a little damp but not full on wet 10. Do you hate it when people post statuses on facebook like “today was amazing” “I’m off to bed” ? I did shit like that like 7 years ago when I first got a fb lollllll but yeah I don't see the point really 11. What colour highlighter do you prefer? Omg my makeup obsessed ass immediately thought about face highlight lolz. I like light champagne-y face highlighter and blue regular highlighters 12. Do you wear socks that have holes in them? I have a favorite pair of fuzzy socks that have a hole... I can't part with them 13. When given a present, do you usually keep the gift bag it came in? Yes sometimes 14. Have you ever bought anything off of amazon.com? Of course 15. Do you like to play Scrabble? I do, the fam used to play all the time when I was in high school 16. How often does your school have assemblies? Do you show your school spirit or just sit there? Not in school anymore... we maybe had 2 or 3 a year when I was in high school? But only one was spirited, the others were random informative assemblies about not texting and driving, etc. I'd wear school colors on spirit days but that was the extent of my spiritedness 17. Which is your classes is so slow it bores you? Which class is so fast that you can’t keep up? Not in schooooool 18. What are you saving your money up for right now? Life 19. Do you hate how cold you get after a shower? Ugh yes it's the worst. One of the best things about Italy was every hotel had heated towel racks so you'd get out of the shower and they were warm. I need that in my house 20. Have you ever played with one of those tiny plastic flags with the metal rod sticking in the ground? No 21. What do you do when you spy a bug in your house? Freak out for a minute, try to get someone else to kill it if it's really scary, or suck it up and kill it 22. Do you like watching old western films with those corny jokes? Nope 23. Are your peers over the Chuck Norris phase or are they still into it? I don't really hear about chuck Norris anymore so I guess everyone's over it 24. Do you like the show Drake and Josh? I did 25. Do you make hot chocolate by using Swiss Miss hot cocoa powder? Yeah, Swiss miss or nestle 26. What do you normally drink at lunch during school? In hs I'd grab a chocolate milk or Powerade, in college, whatever since it's college 27. Which one of your friends is the most indecisive? Britt and I are both indecisive 28. Have you ever made rice krispie treats? Do you prefer the homemade kind or store bought? I haven't. I actually don't care for rice krispies treats 29. Who’s your favourite Disney princess and why? Ariel, because idk I've just always loved her 30. Are we all going to run out of good surveys in the near future? Maybe idk 31. Do you wash your hands for the recommended 20 seconds? I don't count when I wash my hands so probs not 32. Do you like celery and peanut butter? No 33. What was the last gift card you received? Chick fil a 34. Do you look at people in other cars when stopping at a red light? Sometimes 35. Do you use double negatives in your sentences (like, I don’t know nothing about that)? No 36. What’s your favourite type of girl scout cookie? Thin mints and tagalongs 37. Do you like pulp-y orange juice? Nope 38. Are you growing your hair/bangs out right now? Yeah I've been growing my hair out forever because I want super long hair but I'm kind of digging short hair now and feel like chopping it 39. How often do you iron your clothes? I don't iron...I tried a few times and idk I think I was doing it wrong because it looked shitty, so I ask my mom to iron lol. I'm gonna need to learn how before moving out 40. Have you ever tried putting on fake eyelashes? How did it look? I haven't but I want to though I'm afraid of glueing my eye shut 41. What was the last movie you saw on TV? White chicks

[sandygoestospace]

Sandy Goes to Space

The Year 2003

Miss Lucy peered over the classroom and cleared her throat. “Good morning, everyone. I hope you enjoyed your morning walk. Let’s now settle in for today’s lesson. Baxter, stop scratching your rear. Pay attention.”

Sandy watched Miss Lucy intently. She started daycare just two weeks earlier, and Miss Lucy’s morning lesson was her favorite part of the day. Sandy loved to learn.

“Today, we’ll be discussing outer space.” Miss Lucy looked to the window and pointed her stick upward. All the little heads followed, and an object flew by. “That’s a spaceship, everyone. That’s how you travel through space.” Miss Lucy looked over at Bubba. “Except you, Bubba. You should never go to space. You’ll have trouble breathing.” Sandy flipped her ears open. She wanted to hear every little detail.

The Year 2015

My goodness, I hate mornings. I think I get it from my original caretaker. Brigitte always loved sleeping in and cuddling, and when you’re a small Cocker Spaniel, cuddling is not a bad thing. I dare say, it’s a great thing. Brigitte would always wake up at the first sound of her alarm and then shut it off immediately. “Come here, Sandy,” she’d say to me as I laid at the end of the bed. Then, she’d pull me in, and we’d enjoy the last minutes of the morning together in a warm embrace. Oh, how I miss Brigitte. Now, I just sleep outside of her door, and when the sun hits my eyes, I’m up. I’m 84-years-old – 13 in human years – and I can’t sleep like I used to. Anyway, up and at ‘em.

I head downstairs for my morning lady tasks. It’s a bit bizarre to the outside world, but I am currently permitted to urinate and defecate in the home. I have to admit that it’s rather convenient. I hear the ladies at daycare complain about going outside in the rain and cold, and I proudly brag about my living arrangement. You most likely are wondering how this affects the smell of the home. Well, I do these things in the basement. I have my own little corner, and the smell does not travel to the rest of the house. It’s quite wonderful really. Since Brigitte moved away, her parents are my caretakers, and they’re very kind to an old bitch like myself.

All done, and it’s time for my morning news. Brigitte’s father frequently falls asleep on the couch while watching Fox News. This is good because I haven’t been able to master the television’s remote control. Every time I try to press a button, my paw seems to hit four of them. I’ve given up, but if the television is already on, I’m happy to sit and learn about current events. It seems that election season is upon us, and I have to tell you, I am really disappointed with the Republican candidates for president. I tend to lean red, but it would seem to me that there are some backward stances within the party. For example, what’s the problem with gay marriage? I think that a simple homosexual encounter would do these people some good. One time at doggy daycare, I had a bit of a moment with a beautiful French Bulldog. Her name was Yvette, and as it is with the French, she had such a nice coat. It was a spontaneous occurrence, but let me tell you, I’ve never been pleasured like that by a male. Maybe Marco and Jeb should open a nice bottle of chardonnay and ease some of their sexual tension. Donald seems the experimental type. Perhaps he can help Dr. Carson open his mind. Of course, there are some other issues too. How about climate change? I agree with many of the economic plans. For example, trickle-down economics is super. The quality of my treats improved under the Bush administration. But, the Republicans need to join the 21st century on some other issues. Hm, speaking of ladies, Elisabeth Hasselbeck’s legs look phenomenal this morning.

It’s a normal day in Brooklyn. Things are good.

---

I awake from my nap to the sound of Brigitte’s mother on the phone with her daughter. “Ok, fine. I’ll send Sandy to you. I know you miss her. I’m so worried that she’s too old for the move though.”

Yeah, dear. I’m worried too! Where’d this idea come from? I have friends here. I have a comfortable couch here. I get to defecate and urinate in the home! Yes, I miss Brigitte. I don’t deny it. But, she visits, and I see her often enough. As they say in the movies, “I’m too old for this shit.” (Excuse my language, please.)

“I’ll look at tickets tonight.”

Tickets?! This can’t be good. Tickets means one thing – space travel. After we lost Bubba five years ago, I’ve been terrified at the thought. No matter that I’m not engineered with a Bulldog’s flat face; it’s a risk I don’t need. Brigitte’s mother walks over to her computer. I’m in trouble.

---

The car starts, and it’s time for the road to my death. Here’s what’s running through my mind: 1) If I had Hasselbeck’s legs, I’d, of course, be able to reach over and save myself. Those legs come with the pointiest heels. I love Brigitte’s father, but he’d get a stiletto in the arm, for sure. Maybe even the neck; 2) I didn’t get a proper last meal. Even the psychopaths on death row are treated better. If I were given a last meal, it’d be filet mignon cooked medium rare with a fruit salad for dessert. Fruit is my favorite thing in the world, and I really only need two items in the salad – apples and oranges; 3) How will I be secured for space travel? Our friend Twixy the Pomeranian told us that she was permitted to board inside of the ship. Oscar the Great Dane was forced into the cargo hold. I believe that the answer to my question is grounded in the size of the dog. I’m between Twixy and Oscar, but what the “F” does that mean for me? (Again, excuse my language); 4) If I ever see Brigitte, I will bite her.

We pull up to the space station. Ships are taking off and landing. There’s a rhythm to the process. A bit like Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake – peaceful. From my understanding, it’s different when you’re inside the ship. More like Jagger’s Satisfaction – raucous. We park, and Brigitte’s mother leads me by the noose (leash, whatever) to the station. I see no other dogs, which is depressing. It’d be nice to have some companionship in this scary moment. But, I’m a strong woman, and I will face death with courage.

When we get inside the station, it’s straight to a lady wearing a uniform and standing beside a tall podium. She must be important.

“Hi there. I’m sending this dog to Atlanta,” says Brigitte’s mother. “I’m worried about the trip. Can she be kept in the closet inside the cabin?”

“No, ma’am,” the important lady says. “This dog is too large. She’ll have to go in cargo.”

Blast it. To the cargo hold it is.

“And, do you have a cage for her?” asks the important lady.

“No.”

“Ok. Well, I’ll have one brought over.” The lady makes a phone call and then returns to her conversation with Brigitte’s mother. They discuss the details of my space travel, and as they conclude, a cage is delivered. This is my electric chair. The place in which I will perish.

I decide that I won’t go without a fight. I usually put up a moderate battle when it’s time to wash my ears or take my medicine. I don’t like these things. I’m not dirty and I’m not sickly, so I never understand the necessity for squirting cold ooze into my ear canal. The sad part is that I frequently lose this battle. But this time, it’s a matter of life or death; I cannot allow myself to lose. I start swinging my paws as Brigitte’s mother tries to pick me up and move me into the cage. I will not go. I scratch her. This does not bring me happiness, by the way. I like Brigitte’s mother, but I also like living. Living is good. Dying? not as good. She bleeds a bit and spanks me on the rear. I do not relent. I start chomping at her hands. I’m very embarrassed at my behavior, particularly because I am in public. But, the goal and the reasoning are clear. This goes on for a few minutes and then a second human enters the picture. The important lady steps down from her desk and, together, she and Brigitte’s mother surround me. I try to make a break for it, but they catch me. I’m placed in the cage, the door is closed, and the important lady sets me on a black roadway that slowly moves forward. I lost. The trouble continues.

---

At this point, I feel that there is nothing I can do. I’m thrown around a big warehouse like a bag of feces. It’s cold and dark, and in the distance, I hear a howl from a Bassett Hound. I lack the energy to call back. Here’s what I’m thinking: 1) People really have some ugly suitcases. I think my least favorite are the ones with all of the stickers on them. I understand that you’re proud of your travels, but act like you’ve been there before. Oh. Hehe. I can’t help but laugh. Sometimes, I do crack myself up. You get the point though; 2) I’ve never slept with a Bassett Hound. I wonder if there are some kinky tricks that can be played with those ears; 3) How do I get from this warehouse into the spaceship? Will there be any opportunity for escape? If I escape, where do I go? I’ve never been very good at finding home. I once was lost for three weeks after chasing a boy with a hotdog on a hot summer day. I got the hotdog, which was delicious, but I also got rather lost. So, even if I can escape, are the odds of death by escape higher or lower than the odds of death by space travel?; 4) If I ever see Brigitte, not only will I bite her, but I will defecate in her Prada bag. I’m too tired to think about anything else.

Oh, a treat in my cage. I eat it up, and then, in a sense of defeat, I close my eyes. If I have to go, I want to go in my sleep.

---

They drugged me! I hate pills, and I’m rarely tricked by those sneaky pockets. This time, though, they got me. I notice that I seem to already be in the cargo hold. This is interesting because it means I’m not dead. It’s rather loud, and it’s very cold. I’m not happy.

I guess I’ve survived takeoff, and that my death will occur during the flight. Before it happens, let me impart some wisdom that only old age can teach. It’ll do you some good. Lesson #1 – if he looks crazy, he’s probably crazy, so stay away. Ladies, this is for you. Men don’t change, and no, you’re not the one that will set him straight. I had an adventurous period in my life when I had eyes for a Beagle named Freddie. Now, how can I put this lightly? Freddie was a few dog treats short of a picnic. He was always putting his face in the garbage and drinking from the toilet. He had a wonderful sense of humor and a very athletic physique, so I looked past his shortcomings. I tried to train him, but nada, zilch, zippo. He was helpless. Don’t waste your time trying to change animals. They are who they are. Lesson #2 – always keep an open mind to other viewpoints. Let’s talk politics again. Today, I see too many folks entrenched in their own opinions. It’s always good to listen to other people. And, most importantly, while you’re listening, actually listen. Don’t spend the time preparing your rebuttal. We’re not Democrats or Republicans. We’re people, so embrace difference, be respectful, and learn to compromise. Otherwise, move to North Korea. Everyone agrees under a Communist dictator. Lesson #3 – treat your friends with lots of love because friendship is a special thing. You shouldn’t take it for granted. Always be considerate of people that love you and that care about you. Call on birthdays, but also call on other days. Don’t just wait for special occasions. You know, Brigitte really is my best friend. She’s always so caring and kind. I love that she asks her mother about my health, which actually isn’t so great; I’m just stubborn. I love that she takes me for long walks outside when she’s home, because it’s not always great to defecate where you eat. And, I love that she knows my little ticklish spot. I really love Brigitte. Hm. That’s something to think about.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! The ship felt like it just dropped thirty feet. It’s happening. I’m going to die! I hate space! If I ever see Brigitte, I’m going to bite her, defecate in her Prada bag, and snore in her ear. I’m closing my eyes. My opinion has not changed – I want to die in peace.

---

The ship shakes and the contents of the cargo hold start moving. Boom! A big suitcase slams into my cage. My little body rattles around the plastic walls. What’s going on? Did we crash? The ship is extremely loud, and it feels like the speed is changing drastically. I don’t understand.

Then, I hear something very faintly. I perk up my ears. “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Atlanta where the local time is 4:45PM.”

I don’t think I’m dreaming. How can I tell though? I nibble myself, and seemingly, I’m awake. This is real. I’ve survived space travel. Let me get a bit Brooklyn on you – I’m the toughest bitch on the block, yo.

The ship starts moving slowly and then stops. The door to the cargo hold opens, and men start taking suitcases and boxes out of the ship. Then, they remove my cage. Daylight! I’m placed on a truck, and I start moving toward the space station. It’s different than the one in New York. Interesting.

---

Well, I’m in Atlanta. Life isn’t so bad, and I have to say, I think I can retire here just fine. Long walks, warm sun, and plenty of tummy rubs. It’s nice to have a best friend who cares, even if I did defecate in her Prada bag. Wipe that look off your face! That broad put me through space.

[dippedanddripped]

Tips from Sneaker Heads on Scoring the Hottest Shoes and Keeping Them Fresh

Experts at Sneaker Con offered strategies for identifying counterfeit shoes, gave advice on how to choose investment sneakers and said what they would be willing to pay for the right kicks ($30,000).

Sneaker Con, a gathering of shoe fanatics founded in 2009, brought 500 vendors and over 19,000 people to the Jacob K. Javits Convention Center in New York late last year. The heart and soul of the event is the trading pit, an area in the back of the 840,000-square-foot center where a crowd of mostly teenage boys was talking and holding up their sneakers, looking forbuyers. The experience was overwhelming, confusing (where are their parents?) and educational.  

But first, some quick tips:

1) Store your sneakers in a dark space, because light can cause yellowing, which devalues your shoes.

2) Become friends with people who work at sneaker shops.

3) Always check details like font and stitching when verifying real versus fake sneakers.

4) Ask your elders for their old clothes and sneakers. Chances are they will eventually come back in style.

5) Wash your insoles for, well, obvious reasons.

Here’s what the sneaker experts had to say for themselves.    

Antonio Linares

Specializes in authentication of product,

@fake_education

What are the things you look for first when authenticating sneakers? Ultimately it always comes down to craftsmanship, detail and the material used. The counterfeit industry is going to get as close as possible to the original materials, but they cut corners and use inferior products. Stitching is usually a big thing to check across the board, whether it is a hoodie or a pair of shoes.

What are some of the biggest differences between real and fake sneakers? A common difference amongst real from fakes is usually on inside size tags of sneakers, as well as on the box labels. The font style is 99.9 percent different, always. On Yeezys, for example, since they are some of the most counterfeited items I see, I look at the stitching; build structure; wherever it says, “boost”; the font style; and the box.

On eBay, some users will post photos of the real shoes, but then send counterfeit ones. How do you know you are not getting scammed? I personally do not use eBay. Why I started @fake_education was by getting scammed on eBay.

What about people with good ratings? Buy from somebody credible, from somebody reputable that has a reputation to uphold. To be 100 percent certain, buy from somewhere that has a return policy. Somewhere that if it gets out that they sold a fake, that it’s going to tarnish the image.

What are the top counterfeit items that you see? Anything made by Adidas: the Yeezys, NMD, Ultraboost. They’re selling off demand as well. For example, a general release NMD or an Ultraboost shoe holds almost no resale value, but that’s some of the most popular replicas on the market, because people are not even thinking that they’re buying a counterfeit. Whereas when it comes to Yeezys, they’re calling every lifeline possible to prove legitimacy. But when you come up to somebody with a pair that’s $180 in store and they’re giving it to you for, let’s say, $150, you just think you’re getting a good deal, right? Little do you know, they bought it for 60 bucks.

Ariana Peters

Co-founder,

the Chicks With Kicks

How do you know when a sneaker will be an investment? Now it’s a lot of hype. Kanye West drops something and all the kids are running, and a month or two months later, the price just drops. We don’t buy into the hype stuff. We buy stuff that held its value over time. We have sneaker patents. We have one-of-a-kind Yeezy samples. We specialize in prototype, samples, vintage, rare samples.

How do you know when something will generate hype? Right now the market is all hype.

So your strategy is that you look for rare and unique sneakers that you know will hold value.  What are some of the rarest pieces you have? 1985 Air Jordan 1s; we have the largest collection. That’s my favorite part of our collection, just because it holds so much history — it’s the first year of the Jordan. We have signed Julius Erving Converse sneakers. We have Yeezy samples, a few different colorways that have never been seen.

How many sneakers do you have in your collection? My sisters and I have over 6,000 pairs, but we stopped counting. Our dad started the collection over 25 years ago, and we took it over about five or six years ago.

What are you looking for when buying sneakers? It depends on the sneaker. Let’s say I were buying a 1985 Air Jordan: I would look at the yellowing, the cracking in the paint. If it’s metallic, that’s a big issue. You can use sneaker-cleaning products, and a lot of issues when it comes to yellowing just happen with age. So if you can get a dead stock pair from, like, ’85 or the ’90s and it has no yellowing, the value is just astronomically more.

Tips for sneaker care? We store our collection in an air-conditioned, no-humidity storage room. If it’s a collection piece, you want to keep it away from a lot of lights — they could yellow it.

Yu Ming Wu

Co-founder, Sneaker Con

What is your favorite sneaker? The Nike Air Max 1. If we have to kind of go down to actual colorway, it would be the 2002 or 2003 Atmos colorway. It has a very safari, fun print to it.

You told me that you’ve waited years to find a pair of shoes. Which ones were they? The Nike Air Max 1s in the Amsterdam colorway. I’ve probably spent now nine or 10 years looking for them. For the longest time, I refused to pay the high prices for them. I broke down this year.

How much? $1,500.

What is the most you would pay for sneakers? Most recently I have been contemplating purchasing the real auto-lacing Nike Air Mags, the “Back to the Future” shoes which were released last year. Today they go for anywhere from $23,000 to about $60,000. I found a pair on eBay for $33,000, and I talked them down to $27,000. If I do get them, that will be the most expensive pair of shoes I will ever purchase in my life. The price of a nice decent car.

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Tips for getting your hands on hard-to-get sneakers? It’s tough. Today I try to be as safe as possible. I use eBay much more rarely. I am involved with the resell shop Stadium Goods here in New York City. I try to buy most of my shoes from there, just because they’re authenticated.

What are some tips for eBay? I generally look at sellers that have excellent feedback on eBay. I always look at people who write their name.

How do you care for your sneakers? I do sometimes use Mylar bags. For people who’ve collected comic books out there, they use Mylar bags to keep them from getting the acid air or whatever it is from boxes. I also sometimes take out the insoles and throw them in with my bleach cycle, or I also use vinegar.  You wash your underwear and your socks, but you’d never wash insoles. Those guys get pretty nasty.

Mubi Ali

Buyer,

Sneakersnstuff

Firstly, how many pairs of sneakers do you have? About 4,500 pairs. I’ve got a storage facility. I’ve been collecting since maybe 1996. So it’s been a long time to accumulate a lot of shoes.

Favorite sneakers? Supreme Dunk High Stars. I just love the whole aesthetic of them. The embossed croc leather, the gold stars. The fact that they brought out three, it was very premium at that time.

How do you know what shoes will be investments later? Trends are moving so quickly nowadays that it’s hard to predict. A pair that you’ve hedged a lot of bets on and think that is going to be very hot, eight months later doesn’t end up being so hot because the kids don’t get into it. But if a brand puts enough money behind something, it’s generally a sure winner. So looking at 2018, we’re hoping that Nike comes back because I’ve had a tough couple of years. And Adidas either maintained or even improves on the previous year.

How can you tell a counterfeit sneaker from a real? There’s lots of telltale signs: the box, the sticker tags, the inside label. If you know that there’s a certain number that comes out of a shoe and someone’s got 15, 20 pairs, you’ve got to think that’s a little bit suspect.

Any tips on getting limited-edition sneakers? You can try to get lucky with a raffle or a queue. Try eBay. Or even like Sneak Con is the best way to get what you want and what you need. The prices might be inflamed, but think of it as an investment piece. If you love it that much, go for it. Why not?

Benjamin Kapelushnik, a.k.a. Benjamin Kickz

Sneaker reseller to athletes and celebrities,

@benjaminkickz

When did you start collecting sneakers? I started as a hobby when I was 13. And my parents just didn’t want to support it at first. So I just had to resell sneakers to make money to buy myself more sneakers.

What are some tips for people trying to get sneakers? You go to events like Sneaker Con and make a bunch of connections, and you just text them. You say, “Yo, how much is this? How much is this?” You just eventually get all of it.

What sneakers are you looking at for 2018? Probably hoping Nike SBs. I know SBs died out a little, but hopefully they come back.  

Tips for authentication? When you over and over look at the same shoe, you can just tell. And there is this Instagram @fake_education. He’s one of my boys, he does it.

What the most you’ve ever paid for sneakers? $14,000 for a sample for myself. It was a sample Air Jordan.  

What are your tips for sneaker drops? It kind of gets hectic at sneaker drops. I used to camp out with my brothers all the time. I used to pay kids $50, $100, but I stopped doing that now.

What about eBay? I used to when I first started out. I used to get clean used shoes on eBay, buy them and clean them up and try to make them look close to new.

Matthew Ting

Senior brand activation manager, Adidas N.Y.C.

What are some of your tips for sneaker care? Occasionally I just use a wipe. It could be a household wipe, a Crep Protect or a Jason Markk wipe. It’s pretty easy to take out the insole, and then I leave it out to air dry.  

How do you know when a sneaker will be an investment? That’s driven by supply and demand. I think kids are hip and know when things are limited, and that’s really the impetus for a reason to buy. Whenever a Yeezy 350 comes out, people know that quantity is quite limited, and that is a driving factor.

What the most you’ve paid for sneakers? I’ve been in the footwear industry so long, I don’t think I have to have paid for sneakers in the last 15 years. It sounds like I’m spoiled, but I’ve been very fortunate to be in this industry where I haven’t had to pay for my own shoes. I pay for shoes for my son.  

What is your son wearing? He’s wearing Jordan 1s. He enjoys mixing them up, so he has one blue and one red. We bought two pairs to accomplish that.

What was you first pair of sneakers? It was a Nike Jordan. I think seventh or eighth grade. My parents were very strict, so it was unheard-of to spend a hundred dollars for sneakers. Between birthday money, Christmas money, Chinese New Year money and rolling up quarters and coins, I scraped up enough money. They took me to New Jersey, because there it was tax-free. We went to some mall and I think I bought it at the Athlete’s Foot over 20 years ago.

Amber Jackson

Vintage clothing store owner,

Flight Vintage

How do you authenticate vintage or new clothing?   I basically study the past. I watch like a lot of old MTV, like rap videos and rock videos. I also do a lot of eBay, so I know what goes for what price and what to buy and what not. There are certain tags to look for, especially with Supreme. There’s a lot of fake Supreme going around. Study the tags. Study details. Stitching is everything, and the color of the shirt. Sometimes an item could be discolored color and it could be fake.

Some tips for people looking for vintage clothing? Go everywhere. Ask your grandma, ask your grandpa, ask your mom, your dad. Bring out that old concert T-shirt. Someone’s got it.

[haddrells-point]

Carolina Oyster Roast, Another Kind of Heaven...

The cold chill of winter is here. Our days on the water have slowed to a crawl. Your patio and deck has been quiet for weeks and those great weekends outside are a memory. No more smell of burgers on the grill or fresh fish being seared just right. Got the winter blues and cabin fever? Here’s the solution. Grab an old sweatshirt, ice down some adult beverages and pull out that propane cooker that you haven’t used since Thanksgiving. Call your fishing buddies and tell them to come on over and bring the wife and the oyster knife. It’s time for an oyster roast. It’s a Coastal Carolina social event and it’s easier than you think.

To start, you of course need oysters and lots of them. For planning, figure a bushel (about 50 pounds) for every 5 people. You can buy them at the local seafood market if you don’t want to spend a cool day on the water getting muddy and sticking up in the mud. Just make sure you call ahead and reserve them a few days in advance. If you do decide to harvest your own be sure you go in oyster season harvesting in an approved area. Check with your state fish and game enforcement agency for regulations. Once at a harvesting area just stand on the bow of the boat and start whistling for them. Pretty soon, they’ll be swimming to the boat making a chirping sound. Then just throw them in the bucket and take them home. Just kidding!!!! If you’ve never been before I strongly suggest that the first time you go, go with someone who has been before.

Once you get the oysters, take them out back to the water hose and hit them with a hefty spray of water to get off the excess mud. In the winter, this is sometimes a cold task so thick rubber gloves and boots are recommended. Some folks even take them to the car wash for cleaning. However, you might want to make sure the setting is on rinse rather than the soap or tire cleaner before you start washing the oysters.

First thing I do after getting my oysters is get my other stuff ready. Things like bringing out my big oyster eating table. This ain’t no sitting, but a stand up oyster eating table that everybody stands around. The reason for standing up is because that way you’re able to eat a lot more oysters. Then you get the biggest trash can you’ve got and have it right by the table so you can pitch you shells once you let that tasty oyster slide in your mouth. While I’m doing that, my wife is making the hot cocktail sauce, and melting a small pot of butter. She’s got a cast iron skillet in the oven filled with her world (if you consider your family your world) famous corn bread. She also makes a huge pot of hot Brunswick stew to feed the squeamish oyster eaters. We set out hot sauces like Texas Pete since it’s made in North Carolina, Tabasco is good too and it’s still made in the South. We bring out plenty of paper plates, (a couple rolls of paper towels of course) and oyster knives. When I get that done, I put my homemade sausage links on my grill and fix me a cold drink. You know, one of those drinks that the children ought not be sipping and my brother-in-law ought not be nipping if his wife’s around.

Now there are several ways to steam oysters, I use a propane turkey cooker with a basket. I put about a half gallon of water in the pot and add about a tablespoon spoon of salt. Don’t ask me why the salt. I get my water to a good boil. Then I fill the basket about 2/3rd of the way up with oysters and make sure the lid is on the pot and put them on the burner. Some people like to use a metal table with a fire built under it with the oysters cover in wet burlap sacks. Other ways include homemade steamers where you just put the oysters in a metal basket and let them steam.

You’ll know when they’re ready when they start to open up. When that happens, remove the basket and dump that sweet juicy feast of the low lands on the table. Let the shucking begin. Scrap them out, put them on a saltine cracker with some of that spicy cocktail sauce and your 2 steps from heaven. Don’t forget the cornbread, smoked sausages and Brunswick stew and you’re living the Coastal Carolina dream. Make sure to take care with the oyster knife. When shucking, it’s best to hold the oyster in a work glove or towel and insert the knife into the opening from the steaming. Then twist to open and scrap to eat.

We always finish the night with some of my wife’s homemade chocolate cookies and Irish coffee. I like mine with a good cigar by the fire pit with all the men folk. An oyster roast is dirty, messy and many times cold, but the memories are even better than the food. It’s a great way to bond with your friends and neighbors and teach your kids a Southern Tradition. It beats any debutante ball I ever been to.

Source: http://www.coastalcarolinafisherman.com/2018/01/carolina-oyster-roast-another-kind-heaven/

Carolina Oyster Roast, Another Kind of Heaven… was originally published on Charleston Fishing Blog

[salrai]

Through Glass (WIP)

Haven’t posted any creative pieces here in awhile. I know it’s a WIP, but it’s original fiction that I actually feel a bit proud of. Feedback is appreciated, as always.

Word Count: 3,536

           The music was muzzled by the sound of the car’s fan trying desperately to cool the interior. Much like the fan itself, the sound of Rise Against could not even pierce the stagnant, heavy air that had taken over these late summer months. My old hand-me-down Civic was a trusted friend, but an old friend in car years. Her air conditioner had bitten the dust a couple years ago, but it’s not exactly like I had the money to fix it. I had named her Sangria—despite my relative unfamiliarity with the drink itself. I just liked the way it rolled off of the tongue—the long “a” sound into a “gree” finished off with the innate beauty that words that end with “a” tend to have. Strawberries and wine painted an image of romance in my mind, and a sense of intimacy that I could only wish to have. It wasn’t like Sangria hadn’t seen some risqué nighttime outings in empty Wal-Mart parking lots and the gravel lots of nature preserves, but they were all with boys.

           Boys don’t have the same internalized heart full of love that women do, they lack the empathy and deepness. Wouldn’t know how “men” are, and I don’t care to find out. Every relationship I’ve had with a boy I only considered to be a fling. Sure, I have a lot of guy friends, but none of them which I would ever consider dating. I considered them to be close but I never hung out with them in person, only in the environment of group chats over the internet or together at school and school events. Sometimes we all got dinner. The thought of being anything other than straight had never crossed my mind until just last year. After a fourth shallow encounter with a boy in that last year of high school, I almost felt like I wasn’t intimate at all—almost like I didn’t even have a personality. I hold my head up high, but that’s only because a floor of clouds blocks my vision of anything inside of myself. I’ve learned to never consider my feelings or even what I wanted. My emotional state can be summarized into one image—the image of a woman lying flat on her back while a man fucks her in missionary position for the twentieth goddamn time, her eyes half-closed, glazed over, and fixed on a digital clock on a dresser to the side while waiting impatiently for him to finish.

           My sweating palms gripped the hard, plastic steering wheel while my heart pounded in my throat. Callie held her hand against her black eye as she stared out the window, her mascara leaving black streaks down her flushed cheeks and marks on her frail fingers that were against her eyelashes. I didn’t know where I was driving. We were about half-an-hour down the interstate by now, and the street lights that line the highway in popular suburban cities had disappeared behind us. If Chicago was the concrete jungle, I guess that the suburbs would be a wild forest. You can drive 50 miles in any direction, besides due east, and still be in “Chicago” according to the residents. I lived in San Antonio for ten years of my life before moving to the doughnut of Chicago. We had suburbs, but our suburbia was far smaller and tucked in between our own Six Flags and SeaWorld.

           I was grateful now, in this political climate, for the move, but when I was younger I couldn’t help but hold it against my parents. Making friends was as challenging as it’s presented in many of those books for teenagers that blend together into one big forgettable plot. Callie was always there. I never talked to her out of what I once thought was intimidation—I figured that she was way too cool for me. I knew her before she changed her name to Calypso, but I never bothered to try to befriend her. She always appeared as if sent by the powers that be to spite me. In each class we had together I was reminded of my failure to so much as make small talk with her or figure out anything about her.

           Calypso. Another beautiful word like Sangria. I didn’t know enough about mythology to know who it was, but I did know the name was inspired by someone in one of the stories. One of Homer’s I think? She made me wish that I had paid attention in high school literature classes during our mythology units. Callie dyed her hair silver-gray and kept it in a medium-length bob, usually pinning one side back with a barrette. The barrette itself looked like an antique. It had different shades of blue gems, some of which were long since missing. It looked like it was made out of brass, and swirled backwards in a pattern where each gem fit into each tendril of the barrette. I can’t remember what her natural hair color is, but it never has mattered to me. She was stunningly beautiful, but an outcast. Each time she spoke in class made my heart leap with absolute adoration. The way she spoke was kind of like the way the clouds roll on a drizzling day. Each word melted smoothly like a raindrop falling from a cloud; her voice wisped like light wind—and I was inside a cozy reading nook in a café, watching the rain through a window.

           If only the circumstance of our meeting this evening were as pleasant as I had fantasized our first meeting being. I’d left my house to go out on a drive to calm down after a familial disagreement. My parents were unhappy with my choices at college, finding out about my tendency to drink with friends via a Facebook post from one of my friends on my wall. They’d calm down about it in a couple hours—they always do—but the negative environment always pissed me off more than I could handle. My way of dealing with it was to drive to someplace that was open 24 hours, like a McDonalds or Taco Bell drive-thru and to go shopping at Wal-Mart. If I was lucky I’d run into a chatty worker who hated having to be at their job during the graveyard shift. Unfortunately, even though they were often my age, neither fast food nor Wal-Mart workers were exceptionally talkative.

           While I sipped on my large Coke in the lingerie section of Wal-Mart, I saw the back of the familiar silver bob of Callie, and she looking at what looked like women’s shirts. I pushed the ridiculously lacy underwear that I picked out of clearance to the back of the shelf I was looking at and walked up to her, startling her at first. She just about jumped out of her skin when she saw me, and her hand immediately shot up to her eye. It was unusual for her to be in such a big hoodie, but I had just assumed that she had perhaps come here in her PJs or something. Of course, then I noticed her smeared make-up and offered to help her out if she needed it. Callie tried to deflect all of the attention, but I wasn’t about to let her go back to whatever she had left from. The desire to leave was clear in her puffy hazel eye. Seeing how resilient I was, she agreed to take a drive with me on the pretense that I bought her something to drink first. I laughed and bought her a Sprite from the cooler at the register. She bought a simple five-dollar shirt by scraping up all of the spare cash and change she could find in the depth of her purse. I lent her a dollar and thirty cents.

           After getting on the road, we hadn’t said a word to each other. I only asked if she cared where we went, to which she quietly responded, “anywhere but this fucking town.”

           We passed through yet another toll and suddenly we were in the middle of nowhere. The corn was high on each side of the interstate and wind turbines lit the dark background with dimming and brightening red stars. I knew a good place out this way, about ten more minutes out. The radio started to fizzle out, mixing Savior with some talk show. It was close to being the aesthetic of some other Rise Against songs besides this one. Once the station was completely gone, I turned off the radio and turned down the fan since it was only blasting hot air anyway.             Peaking a glance at Callie, I saw that she had finally removed her hand from her left eye, instead clutching both of her thighs anxiously. Despite the heat, she kept the hoodie on. Her lips quivered with eagerness to talk, but she seemed petrified out of fear. She probably doesn’t know if she can trust me yet. Hell, she probably doesn’t even remember my name—wasn’t like I stood out in any fashion. Not to mention the fact that high school ended over a year ago. From my peripheral I caught her trying to read me with her one good eye and squinted left eye. I let her. At this point she was something like a scared animal; if I didn’t let her act how she wanted to she would revert back to where we were before.

           “Do you have tissues?”

           Callie’s voice temporarily gave me a shock, much like when we had been in class together. I felt the car waver as I recovered. I held my hand out and pulled open the dashbox, “Yeah, they’re in here. Use as many as you need to. If you uh… run out of tissues there’s some napkins in the center compartment.”

           “Thanks, Naomi.”

           I couldn’t help but blush when she said my name. She began to blow her nose and afterwards cleared her throat. It seemed as if she was finally recovering from crying her eyes out. I pulled over to a rest stop entrance and slowed before finally reaching the empty parking lot. Her right eye widened as she realized how long we’ve been driving.

           “Wait… how far out are we? How long have we been gone?” she began to hyperventilate, “Oh my God, he’s going to kill me.”

           After parking, I unbuckled and put a sturdy hand on her shoulder.  I looked into her eyes as I spoke, “Callie, you’re not going back to him. Let’s go wash up your eye, alright? I’ll get us candy bars from the vending machine.” Internally I was shaking with nervousness and rage at whatever boy could have done this to Callie. I also knew the risks that I was taking by keeping her from him. I could get seriously punished for this, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t let Callie deal with this alone.

           Callie flinched from my touch. My eyes widened as I realized why she needed a cheap shirt. I immediately removed my hand and turned off the car, opened the door, and walked around to the other side to help her out of it. I held my hand out to her. She sniffled as she clutched my outstretched hand as if I were the first human she had interacted with in years. I helped her to her feet and grabbed a first-aid kit that I kept in my dashbox with the tissues.

           “Does your car have a name?” she asked me earnestly with a quick glance at the car while I locked it, seemingly to get a better read on my personality.

           I chuckled morosely, trying not to make light of what had just happened, “Yeah. Her name is Sangria.” The headlights flashed twice to indicate it locking.

           “Ooh, that is a pretty name,” she looked back at me staring into my eyes as if she were looking into my soul itself. I didn’t mind.

           I held the door open for her as she shuffled into the rest area. It was far too bright inside. Vending machines and television screens showing the weather radar greeted us, along with information about Illinois prairies. I sat her down on a bench beneath information on local birds,            “You sit here, alright? I’m going to go get a wet paper towel.”

           Callie clutched my hand with her bony fingers. Her other hand was clasped onto the cheap maroon shirt. I only just realized how sickly she looked. It was like she hadn’t eaten real food in months. I furrowed my brow since she didn’t let go. Her voice cracked while she spoke,            “Actually, I uh… Well I have to clean up my chest and change into this shirt. My last shirt had blood on it. That’s why I went to the store.”

           “Alright,” I said, not knowing how else to respond to this kind of thing. I helped her into the women’s restroom and had her sit on one of the sinks, setting the first-aid kit on the sink next to the one she was on.

           “Do you want me to only clean up your face, or do you want me to clean up your torso too?”

           “I don’t want to even think about it. I trust you enough to clean it up, if you would.”

           I cocked an eyebrow, “You just met me.”

           Callie gave me that soul-seeking look again, letting out a short laugh, “I feel like I’ve known you longer than that, considering how many times we had classes together and bumped into each other.” This woman was far more confusing than I originally thought. The confusion intrigued me even more. Clearly she had also thought of me the same way during all of those times we saw each other. I really hoped we could become friends after this. Or was I dreaming all of this? Did I smoke before I left? I don’t think I have weed at my parents’ house…

           “This is going to sting a bit,” I told her as I tore open a sanitizing alcohol wipe. She squeezed her left eye shut as much as she could while it was swollen. Wherever there was broken skin I gently wiped. She didn’t so much as cringe. After that I wet a paper towel under the faucet with some cold water and applied it to her eye, moving her hand to hold it for awhile. She got the gist.

           I was almost terrified of what I would see underneath her hoodie. As I got closer I couldn’t help but catch the stench of tobacco. This was the guy’s hoodie. I started to unzip it, trying to make conversation to distract her from the pain, “So… who is this guy anyway?”

           “He’s my boyfriend. I stay at his apartment when my roommates and I don’t get along.”

           “If he does this to you, why do you stay with him?” I slid the hoodie down her bare shoulders. Callie wasn’t wearing anything underneath—he must have really fucked her clothes up. Not only was she covered in bruises, but blood was seeping from wounds around her breasts and on her shoulders where he had apparently dug his fingers into, explaining why she recoiled when I touched her shoulder. My pity turned to rage as I took the wipe to each puncture and scratch.

           “I deserve all of this.”

           Her words stunned me. The cold delivery made it even more authentic—even worse. I froze up for what felt like several minutes. I had no idea what to do in this situation.

           I stood up to my full height and embraced her tightly, “What could you possibly mean, Callie? No one like you deserves any of this.”

           Scoffing, she used the same words I had earlier, “You just met me.” Clever. I released the hug and applied bandages where I could before putting the new shirt on. I looked at the dripping paper towel and took it from her to throw it out.

           “I’m going to buy you an ice pack.”

           “I don’t think they sell ice packs at random, middle-of-nowhere rest stops, Naomi.”

           I responded only with a chuckle. I shoved the first-aid kit into one of the deep pockets of my jacket and slung the hoodie over my shoulder. Instead of helping her down from the sink, I picked her up bridal style. I had been working out to build up some muscle, but it didn’t require that much effort to pick up the bag of bones that was Callie. A beautiful bag of bones, but a bag of bones nonetheless. She squeaked in fear before relaxing as I put her on the bench outside.

           “Why did you do that?” she inquired, astonished.

           I shrugged, “Everyone deserves to be carried sometimes.”

           “Have you ever been carried?”

           God dammit. Callie was way too insightful. I turned my back and went to the vending machine.

           She continued, “You seem very concerned with others, but think nothing of yourself. That’s what I’ve observed about you throughout high school, anyway.”

           I slid a dollar seventy-five in quarters into the coin slot of the drink machine. A Sprite tumbled down into the compartment and I pushed the door in to grab it. I didn’t look behind me while talking, “Let’s not change the topic from you,” I stated. I wasn’t a fan of talking about myself so I continued to ask her questions, “What did you do that made you think you don’t deserve good company?”

           “Well, have you heard of Calypso?”

           I turned to face her again and gently tossed her the Sprite. She understood the purpose and put it to her eye. I took a seat next to her before speaking, “No. I knew your name was from mythology, but I didn’t know from what.”

           “Calypso was something like a minor goddess who was known for trapping Odysseus on her island for 9 years,” she sighed deeply and looked down before continuing, “I chose the name because I feel I trap people to be in relationships with me—romantic, friends, you name it—and then when they tire of me they leave. It’s not a direct connection, but it’s one that I think is negative and fits my own self-image.”

           Suddenly I remembered bits of the unit on the Odyssey, “Yeah but, didn’t she make a statement on the way women were treated?” I squinted, trying desperately to grasp at straws, “The teacher tried to provoke some kind of conversation about it but the class was corpse-like.”

           She looked up, thinking that fact over, “You’re right, but… what do you mean?”

           “Well, she wasn’t entirely a bad person right? If Homer wrote her that way then, like, maybe she’s meant to be pitied in a way.”

           Callie looked right into my eyes again, sort of with a glimmer this time, “Maybe…” her eyes darkened again, “I… really don’t want to go back to him. I’m so tired of being treated this way but my mind tells me I deserve it.”

           “Then run away with me,” I said, half-joking. She sat there silently, pondering. That was probably way too weird. Well fuck. I sighed, bought a candy bar and tossed it to her. Then I walked back out into the wall of humidity and heat that was the outside air.

           It was about one in the morning now and I still didn’t know where to leave Calypso for the night. There was a small park area that overlooked the wind turbines that we had passed earlier. I caught a whiff of the tobacco again and realized that I still had the hoodie on my shoulder. I became hypnotized by the slowly blinking lights. By the time I snapped out of  my daze, Callie was right next to me on the bench. We sat there in silence for a long while.

           “Hey Naomi, were you serious about running away together?” she had broken the silence finally after a long while of thinking.

           “Huh? Where to?”

           Callie looked at me and smiled, “Anywhere you’ll have me.”

           “Why me?”

           “You sure do ask a lot of questions, huh. I’ve always had a good feeling about you, and after tonight I’m just glad I was right about one thing. Perhaps if I had acted differently as a younger teenager and befriended you, I wouldn’t have ever had to be in this situation that I’m in.”

           Calypso gently put her hand on mine. I just kept staring at her—absolutely perplexed. For the first time though, I felt something. I felt the fire of passion in my heart. I felt a desire to protect her no matter what. I felt determination to keep her. I nodded, my throat choked up like it was in the car earlier that night.

           We drove together all night. We looked at the stars, we watched the sun rise, we watched the birds fly. We kissed and held each other. We both felt safe. And her ex’s hoodie?

           We left it in the trashcan at the rest area, where it would be forgotten with the trash that would be taken out the following day.