#some of the humor can get grating after a bit but everything else is *chef's kiss*

[crackersandjuice]

pvpciv is like "wow silly metahumor haha" and then it hits you with "everyone wants to farm evbo so that they can live forever"

like,,,LIKE,,,the visceral gut feeling i got when the guy was like "after a few deaths you won't even notice it happening anymore" or whatever was Intense. what the fuck. it's giving communion but infinitely worse.

i could write something about this. the dehumanization of a person viewed as a god. the fact that people were so quick to go for a violent option because violence is all they've known. my brain is Turning and Churning i am gnawing at this series like a rabid dog.

[monomonomagines]

Hey are requests open again? If they are heres a fun one I think! Could you do the dr 2 girls reacting to their s/o running out of the kitchen screaming and into the nearest body of water cause while making cereal they somehow managed to set the bowl and their pants on fire?

Oh my god, I love this request so much. I really hope I don't sound biased but I was looking forward to writing for this so much since it reminded me of a bunch of memes and things with England from Hetalia from way back when. Oh, but ramblings aside I hope that you'll like this. I wanted to make it really silly so I hope it isn't too over the top or anything!

Mahiru

Mahiru normally would scold you for making so many mistakes that could cause you to get hurt but this was just something entirely new to her.

She thought that you'd be fine just making cereal but as soon as she caught sight of you running out of the kitchen, pants on fire as you zipped past her making her way for the ocean.

How did you even? She just wanted to take a walk and here you were setting cereal on fire!?

She might scold you for being so careless but she only has good intent. She wants you to be more careful so that this won't happen again.

"How did you even manage that!? I told you to always make sure your stove is off? Did you forget again!?"

She'd rush in to help you fix up any damage you caused and to finish putting out the fire but she really doesn't know how you managed to do this.

Hopefully, you don't do this again though, or else you might get another earful.

Peko

Peko isn't the greatest cook herself but she thankfully never was able to set herself or a bowl of cereal on fire for that matter.

One moment you two were getting breakfast ready and the next she smelt burning looking over to you and catching sight of your pants and your bowl bursting into flames.

Peko is fairly fast so she'd already be ready to put you out when instead you burst out of the kitchen leaving her to put out the tarnished cereal as you jumped into the ocean.

After putting the bowls out she'd wouldn't be thinking straight, amazed by what she just witnessed.

Unlike Mahiru, she'd be more shaken up than anything. She'd definitely need to keep a closer eye on you now that she knows that you're capable of whatever it is that she just witnessed.

She may find it a bit funny once she's calmer but you wouldn't be able to tell unless she teased you for it.

"S/o, do you recall that one time that we were cooking together?"

Hiyoko

Even if you weren't the greatest cook, Hiyoko always demanded that you prepare her food as well as hers and as you didn't want to upset her for fear of sending her into a fit you obliged.

You knew she liked sweet stuff so cereal would have to do.

You took out the bowls as she huffed and whined about how hungry she is, setting them down on the counter as you then grabbed the milk and cereal and began to pour.

This wasn't hard at all, you'd just finish up with filling the bowls when suddenly it felt really hot in the room.

You looked down wondering what it was and that's when it finally clicked. The bowls and your pants had caught on fire somehow and if you didn't do anything you'd be engulfed in the flames with the kitchen.

Without a second thought, you yelled to Hiyoko to take care of the bowls as you threw open the door and dived into the ocean hoping that you'd put out the flames in time.

Normally, in times like these that could be scary Hiyoko would cry but instead, all she could do was follow you laughing as you threw yourself into the water.

"Pfft! You looked so stupid with the way you threw yourself in the ocean!" She says laughing when you ask her, "Hey Hiyoko, did you get the bowls like I asked?"

"Huh?" Turning around the two of you look as the kitchen is now in flames. Teruteru is not going to be happy when he sees this mess.

Ibuki

Ibuki has always been quirky herself but you didn't expect her to carry her eccentricities to the kitchen with her.

You didn't get what she was after with cooking cereal but you decided to humor her, taking charge of getting the ingredients ready.

All you were doing was pouring the milk when next second you smelt burning.

"Hey Ibuki, are you already cooking?" You ask confused as she continues to mess around with the stovetop.

"Huh? I was just getting started." She replies turning around and screaming at the sight of you on fire. "S-S/o! You're pants on fire!"

She seems to panic more than you at that moment, quickly throwing open the door, grabbing the bowls, and running into the ocean with you.

"That was a close one." You say between sighs of relief as she looks to you.

"Yeah, w-wait I didn't turn off the stove!" Running back into the kitchen still dripping wet you both manage to turn everything off only to agree to leave the cooking to Teruteru from now on.

Mikan

Mikan was normally quite clumsy in general so you tended to worry about her cooking alone.

You've seen her take a spill with ingredients in tow before when she was making only simple dishes so you thought cereal would be easy enough.

Mikan seemed to think it was a fine idea as well, telling you how grateful she is.

She seemed so happy just to be "cooking" together and maybe that's what distracted you because somehow you had miraculously burst into flames.

"S-S/o hurry! Use the o-ocean to p-put yourself out!" Mikan screams in her shrill voice as she's too shaken up to tell you to stop drop and roll.

By the time you put yourself out, she's working on the bowls, dumping water on them to prevent the fire from spreading throughout the kitchen.

Now trudging back into the kitchen, sopping wet, you notice her crying to herself as she hugs you not caring how wet or charred you are.

"I-I'm s-sorry, S/o! This is pr-probably all my fault!"

The poor girl would seem so much more shaken up than you are that you'd probably have to comfort her for the rest of the day even if it was your pants that caught on fire.

Chiaki

Chiaki tends to be sleepy even when she does things like cooking so you decided to help her out. You trusted that she knew what she was doing but you always worried about how spacy she can seem.

You were planning on just talking about her latest in-game expeditions while you pouring the two of you some cereal.

You simply grabbed some bowls, milk, and cereal beginning to pour as she drowsily told you of her late-night adventures.

Things were going smoothly or so you thought when it seemed like she drowsed off again.

"Chiaki? You awake?" You ask turning to her only to see she isn't dozed off but instead is looking seriously at you.

"S/o, don't ask questions and go run out into the ocean." She says quite firmly which just further confuses you.

"Why did I do something wrong?" You ask not listening as she throws open the door urging you to go forward.

It was peculiar how she was acting but what was even more so was how it suddenly felt so hot and oh my goodness you're on fire.

Finally getting how serious this is you leave her to extinguish the bowls as you ran into the ocean's cool embrace.

Soon following you out with puffed out cheeks Chiaki runs over to you giving you a hug, not even caring how you're soaked.

"Are you ok? How did you even do that?" She asks seeming more alert than usual as she looks you over.

"Yeah, I'm ok just scared myself. I don't know what happened even."

Akane

Akane loves food and she made it obvious to anyone that knew her.

She was always eating more than anyone else on the Island so you thought she'd appreciate if you brought her something to eat after a good workout with Nekomaru.

You weren't a great cook though so you decided to settle on getting her a bowl of cereal.

Most people wouldn't need cereal for a snack but with Akane it'd be better if you did this or else she'd probably demand more food immediately.

Ok, she probably would regardless but you wanted to make her happy and you were determined not to mess up so you went to the kitchen, grabbing some bowls, cereal, and milk.

Now all that was left to do was to pour everything in. You were trying to be quick since Akane was about to finish up and were too busy to even notice her entering as you turned with a bowl in hand.

However, instead of a scream of delight, you immediately heard her cry out as though she were hurt.

"What!? What's wrong!?" You ask, looking down only to see the cereal you made her was now in flames as well as your pants.

Now it was your turn to let out a yell as you ran outside into the ocean with the bowl still in your hands.

Now that the cereal and you were officially drenched though you noticed Akane still nearly in tears.

"It's ok Akane, I'm o-" "That poor cereal! It's all singed and salty now!"

Ah, of course, that's what she was upset about.

Sonia

Sonia loved to learn of new things as she has so many things that are unfamiliar to her from being a princess.

She'd be overjoyed to be learning how to prepare her own meals as she didn't get to before and even if you weren't an experienced chef like Teruteru was excited to get to work even if you just were showing her how to eat cereal.

She grabbed the bowls, setting them down on the counter as you grabbed the cereal and milk, giving her the milk.

You'd pour one and she'd pour the other was the plan but before she could even add a drop of milk she suddenly seemed alarmed.

Like Chiaki, she'd suddenly take on a serious persona telling you to, "Go jump into the ocean immediately!"

She seemed so regal and superior at that moment that you couldn't say no, listening to her by running out with the bowl still in your hands and jumping into the ocean.

Now following you out she appeared more concerned as she examined your and the cereal's soggy state.

"S/o, are you ok? Did we do something wrong somehow?"

Seeing the worry in her eyes you couldn't help but feel guilty as you explained that you don't even know how this happened.

"Maybe you should have Teruteru or someone else show you how to cook."

[graciebirdie]

It’s Christmas (almost) @thisdiscontentedwinter a gift for the amazing you! I hope you like Peter cooking! (also on ao3)

Peter didn’t consider it to be a character flaw that he was a man in his 30s who didn’t know how to cook. He had a few pretty good reasons why he’d never learned how before he’d reached his 30s after all.

Not the least of which being when he’d been a part of a pack he’d been regulated to hunter rather than chef. While usually hunter just meant he was the one who did most of the grocery shopping he did, occasionally, get to hunt down deer or rabbits for when they had special dinners. That was of course his favorite part of providing for the pack. One of the few times his propensity for violence was not only accepted but also praised.

Now he had been living by himself, surviving on take out and deli made meals.

This wouldn’t be a problem except he found he missed homemade meals with a ache he could physically feel behind his breast bone.

Now he only had two options on how to sooth this newest hurt: he could either ask one of his three pack members if they could cook a meal for him or he could learn to cook himself.

The answer was obvious without even calculating in the fact neither Cora nor Derek lived somewhere with a functioning oven.

So Peter bought a cookbook and figured since he wasn’t completely helpless he would be able to figure out one of the basics of adulthood.

It turned out Peter was terrible at cooking. He could make sandwiches or any kind of egg but anything more complicated than those he always managed to royally screw it up.

He didn’t even know what he was doing wrong that make his pot roast taste like char or his stir fry to be oily when he hadn’t even used oil.

After almost a month of failures he would have given up if it hadn’t started to turn into a point of pride. Stiles had brought roast beef sandwiches to one of the pack meets and he had proudly told everyone that he’d made the roast himself.

If Stiles, who oscillated between having the attention span of a gnat or hyper-focusing to the point of forgetting to breath, could make a truly delicious roast then so could Peter.

So he turned to his last resort: cooking blogs.

One google search for ‘how to actually cook and make it taste good’ later he’d gone through five different blog posts and only learned that for some reason bloggers really liked to talk about their kids and perfect lives. It would have been depressing if Peter actually cared.

After two hours of travelling through homebodies trying to convince him to make everything vegan he found a post titled “Recipes made easy for those who are lazy, have ADHD, no time or alternately too much time, know how to cook but want to learn new things, or people who think they can’t cook but are willing to give it a try.”

What a mouthful of a title that covered all the basics of people looking at cooking blogs.

The whole blog was written in run on sentences that somehow managed to be both amusing and informative, a very narrow line to walk.

Peter might have also fallen a little bit in love with the author who gave such informative tidbits as “Why spring for a colander when you could just slap the lid on a pot and up end it over the sink while praying you won’t drop it and/or burn yourself as you tilt the lid to strain out the water but not the noodles.” and “Seriously just toss all the shit into a crockpot and forget about it for 8 hours, except you probably won’t be able to because you’ll have to keep trying to remember if you actually turned the pot on or not. (I suggest setting up a live stream camera to be on the safe side.)”

Other than an obvious good sense of humor the writer didn’t give any personal information. No name or nickname. Even the profile picture was generic. Peter thought that little touch of mystery just added the the writer's personality.

The third time Peter made macaroni and cheese from scratch – “Just cook some plain old noodles and then toss in a bunch of different kinds of grated cheese and a couple of scoops of sour cream and a bit of crumbled bacon with a little pinch of salt and bake it in the oven for a bit and bam homemade mac and cheese that people will be amazed over.” – he was so proud of his creation he brought it to that night’s pack meeting.

He set the large casserole dish down on Derek’s ridiculous table that only Stiles ever actually used and pointedly ignored the stares everyone was giving him. He settled down in his chair – the one just off to the side of the stairs that faced the door and the whole of the open living room – and pulled out his phone to feigning nonchalance while he waited for the rest of the pack to ask what he thought he was doing.

Of course Stiles was the first one to speak up. “Oh!” he said, sounding excited. “Did you make a casserole?”

He leaned forward over the table to open the dish that had been, very conveniently, placed right in front of him.

Peter watched with a surprisingly strong sense of anticipation as he watched Stiles’ eyes widen and mouth drop open in surprise.

“Is this homemade macaroni and cheese?” he asked, excitement clear on his face.

Peter gave a vague hum of agreement. “I’m trying something new.”

Stiles sprung up away from the table and practically dashed into the kitchen. He came back out only a few seconds later with a paper plate in one hand a plastic fork in the other.

Peter supposed he should be grateful Stiles took out a portion instead of eating right out of his casserole dish.

Stiles scooped up a bite and managed to bring it all the way to his mouth before Scott stopped him with a strangled cry.

“Stiles! What are you doing?!” Scott yelled as he threw himself over the back of the couch he had been sitting on. He raced to Stiles and slapped the fork out of his before Stiles could get the bite into his mouth.

“What the fuck!” Stiles gasped, cradling his hand against his chest and staring at Scott in shock.

Peter found, much to his surprise, that he had both stood up and let his claws out without a thought. He took one long deep breath and slipped his claws away before sauntering over to the table.

He oh so casually leaned his against it, back to Stiles, crossed his arms over his chest and stared Scott down.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw the front door slide open to let in Boyd and Erica. The both of them slipped past Scott and behind Peter to, no doubt, stand next to Stiles.

Stiles spluttered and yelled again. “Scott! Peter's not going to bring in poisoned food when most of you guys don't trust him!”

Scott glared darkly at Peter. “Yeah we don’t trust him because poisoning is exactly something he would do.”

“Well yeah.” Stiles said. Peter could practically see him shrug. “Of course Peter would poison someone. But he’s not going to use food to poison the pack.”

Erica snorted loudly and said “Yeah Peter’s devious but he’s not stupid.” there was a pause before she added with her mouth obviously full “And if you paid attention to anything you’d known this mac and cheese is not only totally poison free but also delicious.”

“Hey...” Stiles said sulkily. “That’s my fork.”

Scott’s self righteous expression was replaced with sour resignation. Peter gave him his best fake smile before turning his back on him to look at Erica, who was eating right out of the dish.

Boyd had found another fork somewhere and had stolen Stiles’ plate.

Stiles was glaring at the both of them and Peter felt oddly annoyed.

“You going to share?” he asked Erica who seemed to almost hunch over the dish.

She just smirked at him and pulled the dish even closer to her, effectively blocking anyone else from taking some.

He stared her down intently while Stiles made indignity noises.

Boyd, smart and dependable Boyd, held out his half full plate and a second fork for Stiles who gasped and smiled brightly before scooping up his own bite.

The loud almost pornographic moan took Peter off guard and the sudden quick shot of arousal he felt was even more surprising.

He heard Erica choking on a laugh and sent her his best blank look that the pack had long learned meant he was fighting back the urge to murder one of them.

Boyd, wise and quiet Boyd, had completely given up his plate to Stiles and had instead decided to try and distract Erica with an impromptu fork fight.

Stiles seemed to be having a small spiritual moment. “Do you know what tastes weirdly good in mac and cheese?” he asked suddenly.

“What?” Peter asked gamely.

“Tuna and Peas.”

Peter stared at him while Boyd and Erica made simultaneous noises of disgust.

Stiles shrugged apologetically. “It’s strangely hearty.”

Peter hummed in thought. He was certainly petty enough to make something that only Stiles would want to eat. It’s what everyone else deserved for being rude about Peter’s cooking.

~*~

“Chicken alfredo is so easy. Just cook those wormy noodles for a few minutes and toss in some canned alfredo sauce with baked chicken and bam! Food! Or if you want to get fancy pan fry the chicken before adding milk and actual heavy cream. But who really has time for that? (I do. I apparently.) Here’s how to do it the fancy way if you’re into that kind of thing.”

It continued to amuse Peter how the writer could give easy alternatives and complicated instructions for the same recipe.

His first two batches turned out tasting fine. Not amazing but certainly edible. It was vast improvement from where he started.

He felt an oddly strong urge to both thank the writer of the blog and get to know them better. A combination of emotions he hadn’t felt in a very long time.

This might not have been a problem for him if he didn’t have an strong suspicion he knew who the writer was.

Tiny hints here and there had given it away. He just had to get confirmation.

~*~

After a month of bringing in different dishes to pack meetings Peter had gotten a pretty good handle on Stiles’ likes and dislikes. Considering one of Stiles’ constant likes was Peter’s cooking in general he was confident in his welcome at Stiles’ apartment so long as he came bearing food.

Peter showed up right in time for dinner and Stiles blinked at him before letting him with only a “I’m not going to turn down your cooking, even if it is surprise cooking.”

Peter smirked at him as he made himself at home in Stiles’ tiny kitchen. The size of it certainly explained the latest post “How the hell are you supposed to get anything done in a 3 by 3 space: a photo tutorial by me, not a professional photographer.”

Peter had recognized the kitchen in the pictures from when he had helped Stiles move his (un)surprisingly large collection of kitchen gadgets.

“So what’s the occasion?” Stiles asked as he poked at the wax wrapped loaf of cheesy bread.

Now that Peter had gotten a better grip on cooking in general he had decided to try his hand at baking. He wasn’t very good at it yet but Stiles appreciated bread of all kinds and wouldn’t mind that it was a bit darker in some spots.

“Oh nothing too special.” he said casually. “I just noticed that your newest post got a million hits. Sounds like something that should be acknowledged.”

Stiles jumped and stared at Peter in shock for a moment before he relaxed again. He rubbed the back of his neck and gave Peter a slightly embarrassed smile.

“Why am I not actually surprised you know about that.” he said with a little laugh.

He turned back to the bread, pulling off a piece and inspecting it before spinning back to stare at Peter with huge eyes.

“Oh my god, did you get all those recipes from me?” he asked loudly, excitement obvious on his face.

“Well your instructions are very comprehensive.” Peter said with a casual shrug.

Stiles grinned at him, obviously pleased about Peter complimenting him.

“That’s a really fucking nice thing to say.” Stiles said, grin turning into a softer smile.

Peter shrugged again and turned to start pulling dishes down from the cupboard. “It’s just a fact.” he said casually.

Stiles laughed. “Whatever you say. So what you make me?”

~*~

Stuffed full of the potato soup and cheesy bread Peter was slouched down on the couch and making grocery lists on his phone. Stiles was curled up next to him, half leaning against Peter’s shoulder while half watching Leverage, half reading one of the books Peter had given him.

“Holy shit!” Stiles suddenly yelled.

Peter turned to look at him in interest.

“Are you courting me, Peter Hale?” Stiles asked eyes and mouth wide open in shock.

Peter blinked at him in genuine surprise for a moment before past behavior clicked together in his brain. He couldn’t stop himself from face palming.

Stiles laughed uproariously and leaned harder against.

“This is the best thing ever.” Stiles said breathlessly.

“Which part?” Peter asked through narrowed eyes.

Stiles grinned even harder at him and didn’t answer, just leaned forward to give Peter a soft kiss on the check.

“I’m going to milk the shit out of this.” Stiles said in amusement. "I can't believe I didn't realize sooner! You get so pissy when Erica steals food from me that it should have been obvious."

Peter supposed he kind of deserved that respond if he’d gone around trying to give gestures of romance through food and not even realizing it.

Peter raised his arm and Stiles instantly cuddled himself deeper into Peter’s side, tucking his face against the side of Peter’s neck.

“It’ll be nice not to be the one cooking all the time.” Stiles said quietly.

Peter felt a rush of protectiveness and fought a sneer at the thought of Stiles always having to be the one to talk care of himself.

He turned his head slightly and gave Stiles a light kiss on the temple. “Not just the cooking.” he promised softly and Stiles shivered against him.

Stiles took a long shuddering breath before fully melting against Peter.  “Yeah, sounds good.” he whispered and curled his hand into Peter’s.

Peter wasn’t quite sure how he’d managed to get him and Stiles to this point but there was no way in hell he was going to complain when Stiles was being so shockingly soft with him.

Peter decided that it was immensely satisfying to be the one Stiles felt was providing for him and let himself feel as protective and possessive as he wanted, secure in the knowledge that he had to be doing something right to have earned Stiles’ trust.

[theletterformallyknownasq]

Mariam - September 13th 2018

Mariam: How did I received my name? That's a good question. It's my grandmother's name. And I believe that, traditionally, everybody’s named after somebody in our family. I'm Mariam, which comes from my grandma Mariam, and the list goes on. Everybody just has a namesake, right? It's an honor to be able to carry on your ancestor's name. I guess the ideal is to live up to it. But, *laughs*, that's debatable.

Me: Is your family a matriarch? As any American family, you sharing the name of so many of your relatives is very normal in culture. Chad Jr, Chad Sr, etc Mariam: Not really, one of my brothers calls his son a Jr. but it’s not formal. Me: Not even for, like, male relatives? Mariam: It’s not common for my family to refer to anybody as a 'junior'. Matter of fact, when me and my sister were growing up, because we're like 18 months apart, people used to ask me, "how do you know who they're talking to?” And because I was more of a trouble-maker, 'I know the tone difference' is what I used to say. Right? Like, Mariam. That's me, usually. (In a softer tone) Mariammm, that's usually my sister *laughs*. But they started calling me Biggy and her Lilly. Just because we were in the same household, I imagine. My niece, we have initials for her, but that's just in text, if you will. But otherwise, we call her Mariam. And when all three of us are in the same house together, I don't know. It just kind of works. Me: How do you identify? Pronouns, Nationality, everything. Mariam: I'm an African...labels are tough for me. Because I don't fit into any one label. Even as an African, I'm not just African. You know what I mean? There's so many cultural aspects to me. So, I identify as Mariam. As far as my sexuality is concerned its diverse sexual fluidity. Me: Is that how you define Queer? Mariam: No, that's how I define my Queer. You define your Queer the way you want it to be. That's your business. I don't fit into any of these molds. What is a bisexual? What is a gay person? I don't know what that means! You know, because I've seen so many different people in so many different realms of life that identify as straight people that do a lot of gay stuff. And I know a lot of gay people that identify as gay and have babies and do all kinds of straight stuff. So, if that works for them, I'm with it. I can respect that. I can ride with the ride because, again, I'm fluid. But for me, I don't want you to look at me and say, “Mariam's Queer or she's not Queer or she's not this or that.” And then if we decide to have sex, you can get to know more about my business! But that's my new thing: Diverse Sexual Fluidity. Me: I like that. Mariam: That shit's tight *laughs*. But I truly do identify as Mariam. If somebody were to ask me if I am a Queer person? Yeah, I have Queer tendencies, absolutely, you know. But I also have straight tendencies too and sometimes I don't have no sexual tendencies. Sometimes I'm asexual like shit. I mean, I'm not kidding. There are times of celibacy that I don't look at it as celibacy, it's just I don't want to be bothered with nobody, you know. That's just what it is. You know? That took years to come to that conclusion. I didn't just come out like that. Me: Where's your family from and what brought your family and you to Minnesota? Mariam: I was born here. My father arrived here by way of Kenya. My birth mother is American. Her family is from Louisiana and they traveled up here to Minnesota around the [19]50s, and my second mother is from the Middle East. My Kenyan father came here to play music around 1975, and became an entrepreneur. Both of my mother's family came here for education and economic betterment. Me: And what kept your family here? Mariam: Well first of all, without getting too personal, opportunity, right? When you start having kids and seeing the opportunities that are here. And remember, we're talking the late 1970s, not nowadays, right? Nowadays it's a little different, I think. Back then it was a big deal to be here in the [United] States. If you're here doing your thing, you grow in your opportunities, offering your offspring those same luxuries. And besides, it wasn’t exactly affordable to bring multiple children across seas in those days. Me: Yeah. Travel is expensive. The biggest paradox. The biggest oxymoron. What could you imagine your life if your family had took you back to their home? Mariam: I think about that actually more than not. I'm so incredibly grateful for how spoiled I am. My life is great. My soul is so full and I embrace the knowledge I learn from the world and use it to help my neighbors and everyone else. In Kenya, I probably would have been married with like 50 kids. All that. Probably stressed the fuck out with plenty of gray hair if I had any parts of the personality I have now. Keeping it low, like, keeping your lips quiet and being submissive is not for me. It just does not work. At all. I can't even spell submissive. *laughs*  And out there they just would make us, well, if you don't want to be outcasted and don't want to deal with the rigid role associated with the standards of the traditional construct, it’s best to live in a more open-mined society. But then again, I wonder how much I would entertain being Queer if I was raised in Kenya? Regardless of if I'm Queer or not, would I entertain it? Me: Would you feel safe if you embraced it? Mariam: I'm sure there's lots of Queer people in Africa that ain't talking about it. I'm positive. It's not that they can't, it's just not worth it. Right? Because at the end of the day, when was the last time your parents discussed their sex life with you? Me: *pause* Mariam: Thank you.

Me: What is your general attitude about the mainstream definition of Queer identity? But speaking to your point, what is it about the way in which we understand Queer Identity in the mainstream? What are we missing inherently from that definition that you want to provide from your own definition? Mariam: Your own self-identity. Personal self-identity. Stop wrapping it around and putting so much emphasis on sharing your personal business with everybody. It's nobody's business. It just isn't. If you knew me when I was 15, and now you were like 'Well Mariam, I knew you back in the day, you was a lesbian. How can you have a baby now?" "You ain't true.” “You ain't loyal. “You ain't this. Ain’t that.” Really? That's how [people] feel because I'm growing into myself? I don't think that's an option. I don't think that I would allow somebody to damage my self-esteem in that way. And why do you care so much? Have I done anything to you that makes you question my humanity? I don't care for these gender identities that much, obviously. No two things are the same. Even built the same. They can make these tables look the same. They still are not the same. There are inherent differences in all of these tables, but we still accept them as tables. I’ve never met two people that acted the same, sound the same or are the same. So, I say just accept people for who they are on the inside and everything else will fall into place.

Me: I didn't really get a chance to ask my other subjects because they're my age group. I wanted you to take some time to describe a little bit how your sense of identity has changed over the years as you have matured into your Diverse Sexual Fluidity and how have you seen that change shift in your own peers going into adulthood? Mariam: When I was young, my sexuality was a big big deal for me. It was everything because I didn't understand it. But I was going through puberty and was dealing with hormones in the general sense. So back then I was crazed to fit in with like minded people. In my experience we didn’t have a readily available definition of being Queer, especially as an African queer woman. I found my peace in my sexuality knowing that older Queer peers were doing well in their skin, and that ultimately I would too. But I will say society set the world at ease with Queer with artists such as Prince, Rick James, Freddy Mercury of Queen, and Tim Curry from The Rocky Horror Picture Show. Those people set the tone in how we spoke about being Queer, environmentally, if you will. Nowadays, it’s extremely different. I’ve experienced parents influencing their children to “Other” themselves and I’ve also seen society graduate our acceptance as a whole by introducing a more aggressive adult contemporary version of Queer acceptance i.e. Melissa Etheridge to a more recent slap you in the face pop-version of normalcy with Katy Perry bragging about kissing a girl. As an adult, I don’t worry much about people’s opinion of my sexuality. Society does enough of that for me. Over the years, my peers adapted just like we always have. Me: And from that point on, it's just been a journey of ascension? Mariam: Yeah. And it’s been more about than my sexuality - that’s only a portion of me. I love the freedom of myself. I guess what I'm trying to say is, I didn't know that I wasn't going to be a label. I just knew that these labels didn't fit with me. And that was the biggest struggle until I figured out that I didn't have to fit into it. It's tough. I mean, I’m just going to do me. And because of that I never really came out. If someone asked, like my mother, I told her and we dealt with the feelings and then moved forward whether she liked it or not. They all know I'm gay. I do what I want to do, just like everyone else. This is my life. *laughs* This is my beat, this ain't yo' drum.

Me: What do you do for a living and what gives you joy? Mariam: I own a catering company. Me and Chef K, we own K's Catering and more. And we're going into the beverage industry. Laughter brings me joy. I love to laugh. Like, I find humor in everything. I love nothing more than to laugh. Honest to God. And I'll find humor out of anything. It's inappropriate at times, but it’s genuine. *laughs* My family! My family brings me joy. I love my family to pieces.

Mariam: I love them. They are everything to me. Me: One last question. If you had the undivided attention of Minnesota's most powerful, influential public figures and advise them on one thing to improve the standard of living conditions for folks like you, what would you say to them Mariam: How old are you? Me: 27. Mariam: I think it would be more for the youth than for me, I would tell them to look out for the youth more than I would say to do for me. I'm coolin’. I'm not trying to impress nobody. But the kids that are displaced because of their sexuality and stupid shit that isolates young people from maturing should be addressed. Creating a farm with a compound of housing designed to teach people life self-sufficiency skills. Like, gardening, building, stability, entrepreneur skills, parenting skills, bill paying, etc. Teaching love and to be loved. Keeping in mind that self-esteem is what intimates self-worth. Loving oneself from the inside-out, not the other way. Me: An insatiable chase for external validation. Mariam: Right.. Me: Thank you so much Mariam. Mariam: Thank you.