"We didn't set out to be superheroes. But sometimes, life doesn't go the way you plan."

Happy 9th Anniversary to Big Hero 6!

Being Robin- TAACC peice I wrote for lit class, slightly out of date characterization wise but whatever

Warning for suicide, child abuse, loosely implied self-destructive behavior

The house was never really in a state of disrepair, it was just- disturbed.

If you didn’t know anything about the occupants, you would think that it was the house of a larger-than-life family- unmade beds, a thousand papers strewn over the coffee table at all times and the pantry consisting of mostly quick, packaged snacks.

But only two people at a time had ever lived there at once. Or, three, if you counted Harper’s sporadic visits from downtown. 

(It wasn’t a house where there were too many people to keep it clean, it was a house where there was always something more important.)

It was the first strange thing about the house. But the more obvious one, perhaps, was that the walls were absolutely plastered in newspaper clippings about a certain trio of superheroes. Some of the bigger ones framed: Who is the Masked Hero known as Charge, Charge and her New Sidekick, Cause of the Recent Earthquakes Behind Bars! The smaller victories just tacked onto the wall: Charge and Magma Save the Day, Highlighter busts drug case, Another Crime Boss Bites the Dust!

(Cory Caspers, the owner of said house, didn’t display all of them, obviously. There was no room, although she tried to make it, hanging some in our bedrooms and then in a filing cabinet in hers. Most of them were eventually recycled: Highlighter’s Funeral to Be Private, Magma De-Masks and Renounces Heroism.)

The most strange thing, probably, was that I was going back.

Cory, Harper and I always celebrated Christmas together. None of us were Christian or even really religious- but when I was fourteen, I started missing celebrating winter holidays like when I was little and I mentioned it to her, and the next day, there was a little plastic Christmas tree on the coffee table. The next year, we invited Harper over for it. The next year, we had a tradition- a big breakfast of pancakes on the 25th, a little tree in the living room, and a yearly watching of the Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer movie.

(Burglaries increase drastically on Christmas Eve- something about Santa. We were always tired the whole day from getting called out at 3 AM the night before- and a lot of times Cory would dip in the middle of the day to patrol. Nothing more important than the safety of San Sobelle, she used to tell me when I protested.)

Harper isn’t going to be around to crack jokes about Cory’s decorating skills this Christmas. And things have been unbearably strained since even before that August- 

But it’s always been her favorite time of year since we started celebrating. And the thought of her alone in the house gets to me, because I know if there’s no one else around she spends all her time at home in the basement, working on a case. 

…To tell the truth, I had never liked townhouses. There was nothing wrong with them, I just- they felt trapped. Constricting. This one especially, dull blue and unassuming, now that I hadn't been inside in… What. Five years?

She hugged me when she opened the door, that lazy smile she always wore steady on her face. There was something under it.

I remembered the first time I stepped into the hallway. I was twelve, and nothing made sense anymore. Dead parents. New powers. Fire always creeping at the edges of my vision and an itching heat under my skin. Charge had crouched down to me in the hospital the day after I heard the news: You’re an orphan now. Your grandparents won’t take you.

What’s your name? She’d asked, calm about the whole thing. And I’d answered: Maggie Mendoza.

Do you know who I am? She’d asked. Of course I knew. She was the protector of the city, the one who showed up when things went wrong. She’d put the guy responsible for the recent rash of earthquakes in prison just the other week. I nodded.

Well, I was told you got some powers out of this whole… thing. She’d gestured, uncomfortable. She was never good at anything to do with family. That’s the one thing I blame on her parents. And don’t have anyone to take care of you. And I happen to have a spare room and need a sidekick.

And so it started. That’s how Magma was born- The teen super with the power to transform into the stuff. We were never good at superhero names, I know. Highlighter didn’t even make sense as a name for someone with precognition.

The downstairs hadn’t changed. 

The basement door was disguised to look like a backdoor, despite us having nothing of the sort, because if you climbed down the stairs you would find the basement- also known as Charge’s hideout. Harper used to joke and call it the family room, Which. It wasn’t like we spent a lot of time in the rest of the house.

(The secrecy was completely unneeded. The only people who were ever allowed inside the house were us and very rarely, other heroes. I have long since suspected that this and the fact that she never sent me to school are some of the reasons I don’t have any friends.)

The kitchen was still the same. Bags of goldfish on the counter, a stove that probably hadn’t been used in years. There was no time for cooking when there were crimes to stop- the only thing Cory could make was Mac and Cheese and Meatloaf, anyway. I was always the chef in the family, even if I’ve only really started cooking since I left the house.

Perhaps it’s odd that going upstairs was what struck me the most. Not seeing the upstairs- the staircase itself.

I was an eavesdropper when I was a kid. Probably would have been a motormouth if I had anyone my age to talk to. The amount of time I spent crouching on the middle of the steps, listening to the conversations Harper and Cory had after they thought I was asleep was ridiculous.

(In the later years, it mostly consisted of Cory being concerned for him. It was an endless back and forth of Are you okay? I’m fine, really. This isn’t healthy. I’d stop if I didn’t want it. Once, she’d gotten frustrated. You’re acting like a whore and I know it isn’t because you are one.

He’d been planning to stay a week that time. He left the next morning, quiet and frustrated.

I’d thought at the time that it was just Cory being a prick about him flirting a lot. She was being a prick. 

But then August happened. So something was wrong, even if she was horrible about it.

Harper didn’t talk about it, and he always seemed so happy. But apparently something was wrong and it must have been eating at him and Cory was the only one who’d noticed it.)

And then, all of a sudden, Harper was gone.

On an unusually chilly August morning, in 2018, my big brother took the toaster- the toaster that he’d bought the week before, that he’d said was so he could make me something that wasn’t burnt when I crashed at his place- and he drew a bath. Plugged the toaster in the bathroom outlet.

When they found him, he was wearing his super suit. 

(Harper didn’t mean anything by the method. Even if he did resent Charge, he never would have said so. But when your adoptive mom is the superhero best known for having the power to shock everyone within five feet of her to death, it makes a statement to electrocute yourself. Cory looked like she was going to die when she found out how he did it- the only time she looked worse was when she found out it happened in the first place.)

(He might have meant something by the suit. No way to know. Charge had him buried under the name Highlighter, and when I found out I wrote Harper Harris on his grave with a sharpie and didn’t answer any calls from her for the next two months.)

I took a deep breath, and climbed the stairs.

The downstairs looked the same, but the upstairs was a time capsule. 

My room was exactly how I left it, and it almost felt wrong to disturb it as I placed my bag down and sat on the bed. 

Almost everything I’d had as a kid was still there- the night I left was full of yelling and anger and the only things I thought to pack were my laptop, my teddy bear, and some clothes. The dresser still had its drawers half opened, a green sweater I’d always thought was ugly hanging out of the top one.

The bed wasn’t remotely made- Harper was the only one in the family who’d bothered with his, he was almost obsessive with how clean he was. Cory only cared about messes if they got in her way, and I’ve always been a downright slob.

The mug with a bi flag on it was still sitting in the corner of my desk.  (When I told her, she shrugged. I don’t see why it needs to be a big thing. She’d said. But if you’re happy, fine. But the next June, when we were at Target to get something for a case, she’d silently grabbed the mug and put it in the basket. We’d never spoken about it again, in the exact same way as how we never spoke about Harper’s constant dates with people older than him.)

(I had always felt weird about how the two were treated the same, but it was only recently that I was able to articulate why.)

***

Christmas breakfast was painfully awkward. I made the pancakes like always- I’d taken up baking as a hobby once I left. (Once I started having nightmares, about fighting people twice my size and the faces of people who weren’t here anymore because of us, it helped to have something predictable to focus on. Measure three cups out. Mix until smooth. Check the next step.)

(This family rots you from the inside out.)

Why ‘War of the Worlds’ (2005) is a underrated masterpiece.

‘War of the Worlds’ was released in 2005, it is directed by the film god that is Steven Spielberg (Jaws, E.T.) and written by Josh Friedman (Terminator: Dark Fate, Avatar 2) and David Koepp (Jurassic Park, Mission: Impossible) 

Cast:  - Tom Cruise as Ray Farrier. - Justin Chatwin as Robbie Farrier. - Dakota Fanning as Rachel Farrier. - Miranda Otto as Mary Ann. -Tim Robbins as Harlan Ogilvy. - Ann Robinson as Grandmother.  - Gene Barry as Grandfather. 

First lets start with some history of ‘The War of the Worlds’ - The 2005 film is based off the novel of the same name which was written by H.G. Wells between 1895 and 1897, it then was then made into a series by Pearson’s Magazine in 1897 in the UK, Cosmopolitan in the US. Then becoming a hardback novel in 1898, it is one of the earliest written pieces to tell a story of conflict between Martians and man and so its one of the most commented on pieces of science fiction. 

It has been adapted and developed several times over many decades in many medias, the ones that come to mind are the famous 1938 dramatic radio reading that was directed and starred Orson Welles that actually caused public panic to those who listened in and didn’t know that the Martian invasion was fiction, its said that up to a million people ran out of their homes in terror.  (Source: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_War_of_the_Worlds_(1938_radio_drama) )

The 1953 ‘The War of the Worlds’ film adaptation, which was produced by George Pal and directed by Byron Haskin. It also starred Gene Barry (who played Dr. Clayton Forrester) and Ann Robinson (who played Sylvia Van Buren) who can also been seen at the end of the 2005 film, they play the grandparents of Robbie and Rachel which I think is a sweet little cameo to see for those who loved the 1953 film.  Ann Robinson also revived her role as Sylvia Van Buren in two other films and three episodes of ‘The War of the Worlds’ tv series in 1988. 

In 1978 the most well known musical album by Jeff Wayne was produced and based off the story of ‘War of the Worlds’ this album included the voices of Richard Burton and David Essex.

This was then turned into a concert musical which tours annually through out the UK and Europe, the concert includes live performers such as Carrie Hope Fletcher but also a 3D hologram of Liam Neeson. It also includes a mix of computer animation, pyrotechnics and a big mechanical tripod that comes out on stage and lights up and can fire its heat-ray. 

(Source: Birmingham Mail.)

There have also been several Tv series, the two newest being the 2019 BBC version staring Poldark’s Eleanor Tomlinson and Full Monty’s Robert Carlyle, that has a Edwardian setting and follows closely to the novel. 

The other being the FOX 2019 adaptation that is set in present day Europe but I found this version didn’t really go off the novel, and was frustrated with the lack of the famous Tripods.  (Source: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_War_of_the_Worlds) 

As a kid I would watch the 1953 film with my mum all the time as its one of her favourites and I do really like it, but then 2005 rolled around and in comes Steven Spielberg’s version. To be fair it was probably 2006 when I finally saw it, I was nine years old at the time and I remember my dad bringing home the DVD that someone at work had lent him. I don’t remember watching it but I do remember having nightmares for a month after, only for a month though.  Many years later when I was half way through high school and getting more and more into film my dad then bought the DVD from Woolworth's before it shut down, the DVD didn’t have a case only a see through CD case so I think it only cost him something like 50p. So I re-watched and again I don’t really remember this but all of a sudden I was hooked, and it climbed to the second spot on my favourite movies list where it still sits today. Honestly if you asked anyone I was friends with at that time they will tell you just how obsessed I was with it.  

I have many scenes that I love in this film the first being the rise of the first tripod, but there are two that I geek out over every time. 

The first scene being the one in the basement at Robbie and Rachel’s house, the scene starts off with Ray asleep in a chair. He starts to stir when when a blue flash of light on his face, but then jolts up right at a load whooshing noise followed by closely by Robbie shooting up from just below the camera. I love the way that Robbie appears sort of fits with the sound that’s heard, also the whole mood of the scene which is pitch black with this blue flashing light every now and then. The fact that you’re just as clueless as the characters as well, you find out what’s happening when they find out.  Also the way that Rachel appears behind the basement stairs, which will appear again near the end of the movie in a much more damaged basement which shows just how much their world has changed in just a short few days.  The sound design in this movie as well is something that I love, I love when the sound in a film alone can creep you out. The tripod sound is one of my favourite sounds to exist, like if I heard that from outside I would be so creeped out and scared.  At this moment in time Robbie and Rachel have no idea what is hunting them or what Ray has seen, Imagine running from something and seeing something completely destroy the whole of your neighbourhood yet not knowing what it looks like. This is what runs through my mind when I heart Rachel cry “Is it them, Is it them?!”  Then the next morning when Ray goes upstairs and see’s that the house is just completely destroyed by an aeroplane that has crashed down in the middle of the the housing estate. This Boeing 747 was a out of use plane and the production crew bought it for $60,000 which then cost them $200,000 to transport, it was then broken into pieces and houses were built around it. Which just shows how far some movie productions will go to make a film look more legit. (We love practical effects in this house.) This scene is still set up at Universal Studios Hollywood and can be seen on the Studio tour. 

(Basement and Plane crash scene.)

My second favourite scene, which is one of my all time top favourite scene ever with no surprise is the dock scene.  The speeding train that’s on fire is absolute stunning in every sense but for me the scene starts when the music starts.  ‘If I ruled the world, everyday would be the first day of spring.’ But i’m really glued to the screen when Rachel starts to follow the birds coming in from the river to in land, she follows them up to the hill where she notices the tree’s on the top are moving weirdly. “The tree’s are funny.” She then reaches out and grabs onto Rays hand who was talking to a friend.  Robbie turns to the hill as the camera slowly comes back and shows Robbie also turning to look at where Ray is looking. (Just remembering that this is the first time Robbie and Rachel ever see the tripods.) 

The camera then shows us what the family is looking at to reveal a tripod stood on the top of the hill, it then moves one of its legs which crushes a tree and makes everyone else look back. Obviously chaos ensues from this point on, everyone running trying to get onto the ferry to get away from the impending doom, unfortunately we learn that no where, not even on the water is safe. As a tripod comes up from out of the water and attacks the ferry, the family manage to escape and get to land on the other side of the ferry. They stop for a moment to catch their breath as people are being picked out of the water below them, they turn as a old air raid alarm is heard on the other side of the hill and we see tripods coming over another hill that was filled with people and using their head rays to wipe them all out, we also see in the distance a lighting storm indicating more Martions are still coming to earth. The scene is like a depiction of all the stages of the attack.  (Dock attack scene.)

I mean all the action scenes in this movie are just so beautiful and amazing, but did we expect any less from Spielberg? And the CGI and practical are all done extremely well and fitted together to make a scene look as real as possible. One of the art directors that worked on this film, Doug J. Meerdink who has also worked on Jurassic Park: III, Cloverfield and Jurassic World. 

I was looking up some trivia on IMDB for this movie and found that there was a deleted scene that is called the ‘Camelot’ scene. This scene is supposed to take place between the attack on the ferry and the battle on the hill, it involves Ray, Rachel and Robbie walking through an abandoned housing estate that’s named Camelot, when a pack of tripods start walking near by.  One of the tripods breaks off and the family has to take cover behind a SUV, they watch helplessly from behind as the tripod reaches into the house and grabs people from the houses. This scene has never been released but apparently it was fully finished, VFX and all but then taken out a few weeks before post production was wrapped up.  There is only one official video from this scene that was in the actual trailer for the film, and it’s only a shot of the family hiding behind the SUV. 

The only other shot from the scene is this landscape shot of a CGI tripod. 

There are also photos of the set designers setting up the miniature of the housing estate to shoot this scene, the rest are fan arts of how the scene maybe looked/ played out.  (Source)

I really hope that one day Steven releases this scene, or for some anniversary adds it into an extended version of the film like we’ve seen for other films. Because I would love that so much! It seems like such an incredible scene, and to see the tripods up this close again would be so cool! 

One of the trailers that was released for this film doesn’t have any of the film shots it in, It takes place in a normal neighbourhood where people are just going about their normal nightly routine when suddenly over the hill there are all these brilliant flashing lights, everyone's just coming out of their houses in their pj’s and standing in the street marvelling at this sight in front of them. Then we see explosions and suddenly heat rays are blowing up the tress on the street which then goes into the title.  I just love this, a trailer that doesn’t give anything away from the movie but creeps you out enough to be invested.  (Trailer.)

All in all it’s just an very visually pleasing film, it feels real enough to give you a sense of fear for the characters and for yourself. I also love that Steven stayed true to the source material,more truer than some of the other adaptations and also added in his own little Easter eggs.  The sounds, the aesthetic, the colours just everything comes together so beautifully. I think its a very underrated movie that deserves so much more love.

Foreign Touch ch 5

Chapter Summary: No summary sorry. I LOVE YOU ALL.

Warnings: Some fluff... then pure angst. I’M SORRY but not really.. BUT I’M SORRY. Character Death. our boys cry. (i cried) UH POV jump. me being a horrible person. oh and can’t forget, cursing as well. 

Word Count: 3k (holy cow.)

Masterlist(:

AN: So i’m posting this now because. 1, i love every single one of you who read this fic and actually enjoy it. and 2, to celebrate the fact I have over 160 followers. Like what? ILYSM THANK YOU. you are all so beautiful and I write for every single one of you.

Previously

Enjoy...

September turned to October, October to November and soon enough it was December.

Things for Y/N couldn’t have been better, sure there was the tension between Alexander and her, seeing as her soulmate was the one person Alex has claimed to be his mortal enemy. Not that he made any comment when Thomas was around, especially around their parents.

It had become a normal accordance for Thomas to have dinner with the Hamilton’s, just like Y/N would have Sunday lunch with the Jefferson’s. Things were going amazingly between the two.

Her group of friends were all happy, Lafayette had found his girl, Adrienne. Or Adri as everyone calls her who was in the Drama club and even Hercules found his soulmate who was from another school but the two met at a Halloween party.

Halloween Y/N had managed to get Thomas to dress up as Aladdin and she went as Jasmine. The two being what john kept muttering as ‘couple goals’ since Alexander went with a nametag with the words “Hello, my name is ‘The person who hates Halloween costumes’ “John, having been the one to write it out since he was annoyed with Alexander.

In the end the night was amazing, ending with a bonfire with the friends all sitting around and relaxing in couples. Even James Maddison came with his girlfriend of one year.

By November, Y/N would wear Thomas’ hoodies and beanies. Claiming that they were a lot warmer than all her jackets and sweatshirts. Not that Thomas was complaining. He was happy to have his girl wear his clothes.

Thanksgiving came and went, Thomas spending the day with Y/N and her family before they went over to his house to spend the evening with his own family. The two thankfully always able to split the time between families. Especially since it was the holiday and they wanted to make sure that it was split equally.

By December, Christmas around the corner. Y/N almost cried at the start of Winter Break. Swamped with homework, college applications were thankfully all sent along with the videos of her Dancing then her playing the violin to the Art Schools, starting with Julliard. Y/N didn’t play for the school, not many even knew she played since it was something she picked up and it just stuck. So, the girl would just play in the basement of her home.

Life was perfect, at least for Y/N. She was happy and things felt like they were finally falling into place.

Date nights were her favorite, the picnics, movies then pizza, the small dinners after games. The two never went to parties, never needed to. They were happy with each other and the company of James or Lafayette every now and again with their girls for double dates.

Groaning, Y/N watched as Lafayette and Thomas were speaking in French. Glancing over at Adrienne, Y/N raised her eyebrow.

“Can you believe these assholes…” she whispered to the gorgeous Brunette who giggled and nodded.

“I say we get their attention…” she winked, and the two girls got up from the table. Not that their boyfriends noticed.

Walking over to the bar, pulling out their fake IDs, the girls managed to flirt their way to getting another cocktail and soon enough two guys came up to them to flirt.

It didn’t take long for Lafayette or Thomas to notice their girls at the bar talking to two strange men. They almost ran over, wrapping an arm around their girl and glared at the men until they backed off.

“Immigrants… we get the job done.” The two said at the same time and fist-bumping. Causing Y/N to give Thomas a ‘what the fuck are you ON?’ look.

“Thomas… you’re AMERICAN.” She laughed before looking at Adrienne who was also giggling.

The two sipped on their drinks. “Maybe next time, you’ll remember we’re at the table as well.” Adrienne teased, even though the two of them knew a bit of French. It still wasn’t enough to follow what those two were talking about.

It was a wonderful night afterwards.

Now with Christmas just a week away, Y/N was out with her parents. The three going to the post office to send the presents to the grandparents. The three laughing and singing Christmas songs, just having a good time. Alexander stayed behind to wrap up the last of his presents, though Y/N knew that John would be over five minutes after they leave the house.

Pulling out her phone from her jacket pocket, Y/N decided to message Thomas to pass the time, only to frown when seeing the battery on low. “shit….” She whispered.

“What was that sweetie?” her mom called from the front, turning her head to look at her daughter.

Catching her dads eye in the rearview mirror, the smirk he sent her way. Y/N knew he heard her and shit bit down on her lip. “Nothing mama…” she shook her head and went back to messaging her boyfriend.

When her phone warned her that there was only two percent left, she said bye to Thomas and turned off the phone screen. Listening to her mom talk about the surgery she did the other night and the teenagers parents in the waiting room.

As her dad went to continue driving, the red light turning green before the car came to a complete stop. Y/N’s head whipped to look out her window at the sound of a loud car honk and she gasped. The headlights of the car shining brightly in her eyes. But she couldn’t do anything, a truck that was making a right turn collided with their car and sending the car skidding and crashing into a bus.

Y/N head hit the window and she passed out right afterwards, screaming being the last thing she heard.

»»-————　♡　————-««

Alexanders POV:

Sitting around the living room with John, the two watching the Harry Potter marathon on the ABC Holiday Special. They were wrapped up together in the blanket just enjoying the others company without any distractions. It wasn’t till Alexander’s phone rang did he groan and pick it up, seeing it was his grandma.

“Hey, MeMa… everything ok?” he asked the women, sitting up concerned since he could tell his grandma was crying and put the phone on speaker.

“Alex, Corazon. The hospital called me. Your parents and Y/N have been in an accident.” She said in a broken voice. “You need to get there as soon as possible. Pops and I are booking a ticket and are flying out there soon.”

Alexander could barely hear what his grandma was even saying anymore, John who sat up quickly, sent out a text to the group chat and picked up Alexander’s phone, talking to his grandma. Assuring her they would be at the hospital and that they would call them with any news.

John’s POV:

After hanging up, John noticed that Alexander was still in shock, so he rushed to grab their shoes, jackets and hats. The snow started to fall again.

“Come on babe… we need to go.” He said to Alex and coaxed him into putting his shoes on and jacket after getting himself ready first.

Picking up his keys, the two made it out to the car and John started to drive to the hospital.

“I know this isn’t something you want to hear… but you need to message Thomas.” John told his boyfriend, those words causing Alex to snap out of it.

“Why the FUCK would I do that? I need to focus on the fact that my SISTER and my PARENTS are in the hospital!” He almost yelled and John just remained calm.

Taking a deep breath as he stopped at a red light. John turned to look at Alex. “He’s her soulmate babe… he needs to know. I know you don’t like him, that’s fine. But he loves your sister. He deserves to know and to be there.”

Seeing that the words were sinking into Alexanders brain, John turned his head forward again and drove a few seconds after the light turned green.

Upon arriving at the hospital, John held Alexanders hand the whole time and watched as the man messaged Thomas. Rolling his eyes with a sad smile at the contact name. ‘Jeffershit’

Once the messages were sent and they were told where to go, being told to wait for a doctor to come out to speak with them. John held Alex in his arms as they waited.

Thomas’ POV:

Forty-five minutes, that’s how long he had been waiting for Y/N to message him to go do the neighborhood tour of the house lights. He knew she was serious about it; he just didn’t know why it was taking so long to call him. Not that he was worried, Thomas was sure that Y/N was probably eating out with her parents or something.

Though he couldn’t help but feel a weird ache in his chest, but shrugging it off, he grinned at the small ‘ping’ coming from his phone. Indicating he had a message.

“Fucking finally babyg...” but he stopped muttering to himself when he saw it was Alexander. Seeing the messages, Thomas felt like all the air from his lungs left and he couldn’t breathe.

Jumping up from his bed and rushing to pull his sneakers, coat, gloves and hat. Thomas rushed from his room.

“Son, where’s the fire?” his dad chuckled from the living room, seeing his son in a hurry. But the laughter died when he saw Thomas close to tears. “Thomas? What happened?”

“I… I don’t know. She was just talking to me… now she’s in the hospital.” He said and looked from his mom to his dad and the two quickly got ready as well. Knowing that Alexander would be alone in the hospital waiting room.

“Give us a few minutes, we’ll go with you.” His mom said softly and pressed a kiss to his head and went to put on proper clothes.

Soon the Jefferson’s left their house and made it to the hospital in under 20 minutes due to the roads being fairly empty.

Once at the hospital, Thomas already knowing where to go thanks to John Laurens who messaged him where they were. They arrived and saw the waiting room already filled.

Lafayette with Adrienne and his uncle and aunt. George and Martha Washington. Hercules with his girl Meg, Alexander with John and when they saw Thomas, Lafayette was the first one to reach the boy. Who hadn’t been able to cry properly. His mind racing with what could have happened.

After an hour, a doctor appeared. Everyone waiting holding a cup of coffee thanks to Peter and Jane Jefferson who bought it for all the teenagers.

Alexander was the first one to jump up with John. Thomas wanted to go over and see. But he overheard that they were talking about Alexanders parents. An ache in his chest hearing the words ‘We did everything we could… I’m sorry son.’

“I’m not your… What about… Y/N? How is she?”

At that question, Thomas sat up and watched the doctor.

“She’s still in surgery. As soon as I know more. I’ll come talk to you all.” With that, doctor paid his apologies once more and left. His pager going off and he rushed.

That’s when Thomas felt it, the ache on his neck. Grabbing his phone and using the camera, he gasped. Catching everyone’s attention.

That’s when they all saw it. The mark on his neck, a small almost dainty handprint. But as quickly as it appeared, it was gone.

“What? Did she… did she die for a minute there? Is that what happened?” he asked standing up now panicking. Breaths were uneven and Thomas felt like his heart was going to burst out of his chest. He couldn’t stand still. He couldn’t cry. He could only worry about the women he loves.

“I- I can’t lose her. I need her… fuck. She could have done so much better than me. Yet I was blessed to have her as my soulmate… I can’t fucking lose her.” He said and hung his head, squeezing his eyes shut. His shoulders starting to shake and that’s when arms wrapped around him.

Realizing it was Alexander, the two men hugged and cried as they waited news on the girl who was hanging on to her life.

After another hour, another doctor came back over to them. “Any relatives of a Y/N Hamilton?” she asked and looked over everyone. A. Schuyler written on the white coat and Both Alex and Thomas stood up.

She raised an eye at Thomas, only to nod when Alexander explained that the man was Y/N’s soulmate.

“So, I’m guessing you felt that she flatlined. I’m sorry about that.” And with that Thomas went to listen about what was wrong with his girl. “She hit her head against the car window pretty badly, she has stiches on the side of her head, that area is shaved. Her neck is in a brace, nothing broken. Simply cause she suffered whiplash and the brace Is to prevent her from moving her neck and letting it heal.” She sighed. “Her leg, that was broken pretty badly. Practically crushed from being stuck. We were able to put the bone back in place and there are some screws... She’s gonna need treatment once the cast comes off. To help her use her leg again. I hope she wasn’t a dancer. Because, it’s likely she won’t be able to put too much force on it.

“Now… the reason she flatlined was because of a broken rib that caused her to have some trouble breathing. But we got her back and she’s being transferred to the ICU now.” With a sigh, she looked between the two. “Once there, visitors will only be one at a time. Then everyone goes home and returns tomorrow. We can’t have anyone here. We need to keep a close eye on her to make absolute sure we didn’t miss anything.” With that, the doctor informed them she’ll come get them when Y/N was in her room.

Thomas felt like he was going to pass out. How could this even happen? Now Y/N and Alexander were orphans. God, how were they going to tell Y/N about her parents when she wakes up?

Walking away from everyone quickly, Thomas went outside and leaned against the brick wall of the hospital.

With eyes closed, he tried to control his breathing. Which Thomas found to be very difficult to do.

“Thomas?” a soft voice came from beside him and he turned to see John there. “Deep breaths… we don’t want to put you in a room from passing out before seeing Y/N now do we?” the freckled face man smiled sadly.

“How could this happen?” Thomas asked quietly. Almost not hearing his own voice. “We were talking about… about seeing those stupid Christmas lights in the neighborhoods ya’know?” he scoffed. “I wanted to say no, cause we’ve seen them three times before. But I could never say no to her. What Y/N wants; she gets.” He looked down at his hands. Reaching into his jacket pocket, he showed John the small silver ring with a double hearts.

“Was gonna give this to her, promise ring that once we finish college, that we’ll get married and have the perfect life together.” He sniffled. “Now she can’t dance anymore… she’s going to be so broken.”

John looked at the ring in shock. Only to frown and pat Thomas’ shoulder. “If she’s broken, you need to be her rock. She’s gonna need you more than ever now Thomas. She’s gonna mess a LOT of school, physical therapy, no more cheerleading. No more tutoring…” sighing, John frowned. “She… they lost their parents. You gotta be strong, but don’t shut down on your emotions. Ok?” he said and looked over to the door.

Thomas also looking up at someone clearing their throat. “We can go to her room now.” Hercules said to the two and the three men made their way back inside and everyone quietly walked down the corridors to the area where Y/N was laying in the bed in a coma induced sleep. Just so she could recover a little easier.

One by one, Thomas lets the boys go first. It was only right, they knew Y/N for years. He could wait to see her a little.

By the time it was his turn, Alexander stopped him. “There’s… lots of machines. Beeping, tubes attached to her… Her leg… I covered it up with a blanket.” His voice broke and Thomas nodded. “Just thought I’d warn you.”

With that, Thomas walked into Y/N hospital room and he felt like the floor disappeared from beneath him. Seeing Y/N in the bed attached to machines, hell. Alexander tried to warn him and still it was like he was punched in the gut.

Walking over to a chair, he sat down and softly grabbed onto her hand. Behind careful with the needle taped to the back of her hand. Small cuts covered her body, the stiches and small part of the side of her head that was shaved. Her left leg was held up but covered like Alexander promised. The hand without the needle was wrapped in a bandage.

Thomas felt like his throat closed up and he squeezed his eyes shut.

“I can’t lose you sweetheart… I’ll be with you with each step of the way. Ok? No matter what. I’m with you. I love you babygirl.”

Kissing her forehead, Thomas left the room after the nurse informed him his time was up. With a promise to visit Y/N every day. Thomas left, giving the guys a ‘bro hug’ they all parted ways.

Alexander going home with John so he wouldn’t be alone, at least until his grandparents arrived to help with funeral arrangements. Parting ways, everyone left the hospital with heavy hearts.

                                                                                                    Next Chapter

*goes into hiding, shouts from under the bed* please tell me if there are any mistakes! This was a rollercoaster to write. omg.

Don’t forget to Like, Reblog and send Feedback! My asks are also opened and so is my IM! 

Much love from me to you!!  ♥(ˆ⌣ˆԅ)

Taglist: @namethathasnotbeentaken @i-know-i-can @randomhunam @yes-i-know-im-weird @thebitchiestnerdtowalktheearth @exquisite-dreamers @ballerinafairyprincess @thefandomgirl03 @criminallyhamilton @1elysium @slytherinssssnake @youtxbemusic @i-honestly-dont-know-anymore @sabbrriiinnaa @yes-i-know-im-weird-blog @they-write-once-in-a-blue-moon @wtfevenismypage @cubedtriangle @a-hopeless-fan @namelesslosers @ryjo-92 @lunariasilver​  

(please tell me if i got your username wrong! some of you i can’t seem to tag :/ )

Jealousy

(Michael gets jealous easily and has trust issues bc of Jeremy and the squip so after rich realizes this when talking about an ex, reassures Michael that he won’t leave him - prompt from @necktiesashonesiesweaterpaws )

“Okay so, I don’t want to like startle you with new and wild information, but there’s a feral looking blonde cheerleader following you, Rich.” Michael’s words are spoken softly, as though worried the girl trailing after Rich will hear him and attack, and Rich glances over his shoulder at her before returning his attention to his boyfriend, an amused look on his face. “You mean Stephanie? She’s just my ex, she moved and she’s back visiting her grandparents. Steph, Michael. Michael, Steph.” Stephanie gives Michael a little wave, and Michael edges a step closer to Rich as he eyes her up. 

“Uh. Hi.” He notes that Rich doesn’t call him his boyfriend-is he embarrassed to be dating him? He could understand why, with this perky, pretty girl standing before him. He measures himself against her physically and...well. 

She’s slim, classically beautiful. Really pretty, and she looks like she actually cares about her appearance...the same of which can not be said about himself. Rich has never mentioned this ex before; he can’t remember them dating in school, but he spent so much time in his own little bubble of two that it could have happened at any time before Jeremy had gotten his own Squip and Michael wouldn’t have noticed. 

“Hi! Richie didn’t tell me we were meeting up with a friend. Aren’t you that kid who always wore his headphones in class?” He nods, awkwardly shifting on his heels as he’s given a look over, and he can feel the jealousy bubbling in his stomach at the overly fond look Rich is giving her. 

“Yeah, that’s sure me. Antisocial Headphones Kid. I didn’t know Rich was bringing a friend along on our...hanging out time.” He glances at his boyfriend, his look fifty shades of ‘why is this cheerleader here on our date in which you promised me we’d finally be alone?’ that seems to pass right over Rich’s head. 

“I thought she could hang with us while she’s down! C’mon, Micha, it’s just for a day or two.” Rich seems excited at the prospect, flashing the widest smile Michael’s seen from him in weeks at Stephanie, and Michael suddenly feels like he’s intruding. 

Intruding on his own date.

With his own boyfriend.

Well, he’d THOUGHT Rich was his boyfriend. They’d been going out for three weeks now, and he thought things had been going great. Rich never pressured him into being social or doing things he didn’t want to do, and they snuggled and watched movies. Made out sometimes. Got a little handsy under the stairwell once or twice. But now, Rich is moving past him, offering Stephanie his arm, and Michael can’t help but notice...well. How good they look together. How Rich guides her with practiced ease, as though he were meant to be with her. He’s reminded of how awkward he is. How he can see Rich longing to go out to parties, to not be stuck sitting in a secluded basement for hours on end. How Rich has dated many, many pretty girls and could definitely date someone more attractive than Michael. 

It wouldn’t take much. Michael knows what he looks like, and it’s not like it’d be the first time he was tossed aside for a pretty girl.

Instead of bringing his thoughts on the matter up, he takes a few steps away from the duo. “Hey, actually you guys should catch up without me. I can call Jer, see if he wants to hang.” Rich frowns, and Michael waves him off with a small smile. “Really. You should spend time with your friend. It’s cool. We can hang out another day.” He turns, starts leaving and is almost past the pretzel cart when his arm is grabbed from behind, causing him to flinch. Rich releases his arm almost immediately, a confused look on his face as Micahel turned to look at him. 

“Hey, did I say something to make you think you should leave? I wanted you to stay, Michael.” Michael looks past Rich, to where Stephanie is standing awkwardly near the mall fountain, and gives a little huff. 

“Why would you want me to stay when you have her there? She’s pretty and you clearly like her enough to invite her along on our date.” Rich’s face falls, and Michael rubs his arm self consciously, gaze dropping. “I get it. She’s obviously way cooler than me, why wouldn’t you want to spend time with her instead?” Rich moves to take Michael’s hands, forcing him to look at him, and Michael sighs. “Hey, no. She’s just here for a few days, and none of her old friends have time for her while she’s down. I didn’t think when I invited her along, and I’m sorry Michael. I definitely do not want to spend time with her over you, because I really, really like you.” Michael shrugs, though he does turn his gaze to Rich instead of the white and black tiles under their feet. “Is that why you didn’t correct her when she called me your friend?” Rich’s brows furrow as he takes in the words, and he glances back at Stephanie before turning his attention to his boyfriend. 

“I didn’t think it would bother you. I’m sorry.” Michael bites his lip, and Rich tugs his hands some. “I didn’t want her to get too jealous of the fact that I’m totally dating the hottest, sweetest, coolest guy ever. She’s already totally jealous of how much I talked about you on the ride here.” Michael can help but blush at that, the thought of Rich talking about him like that to the pretty ex girlfriend still hovering around the fountain, and he gives him a half smile. 

“Oh. Well. I guess we can’t have her get too jealous or whatever.” Rich grins, wide and toothy, and pulls Michael down into a short kiss. “I can’t believe YOU were jealous, though. YOU. Michael Mell.” Michael wrinkles his nose, and Rich laughs as he wraps an arm around him. “I promise, I do not want to spend time with anyone but you. Steph is just...here for a few days. Can you try to be nice to her?” Michael sighs, but gives a nod as Rich starts to lead him back to the girl waiting for them. 

The least he can do is try.

Stupid Cupid

Steve Harrington x Reader

Author’s Note: So, two important things to note here: one, this is for @moonstruckhargrove‘s 1k Challenge, which ended two days ago I know. Two, in regards for this being late, I have a reason! I started some fucking angst with both Billy AND Steve and it...fine. And then I just hated it and it was over 6k and I just had to scrape it all. So now we have some fluff and longing, which I’ve probably written five times and is probably boring. BUT when I say I’ll do something, I do, so enjoy I guess

Tag List: @hargrovesgoldilocks @moonstruckhargrove @casaharrington @denimjacketkisses @lilmissperfectlyimperfect @thechickvic @alex--awesome--22 @so-not-hotmess

Word Count: 2,995

Warnings: cheating, maybe swearing?

Prompt: 11. I love you, you enormous pain in my ass 

You’d been dancing around the subject for a month and a half.

You really shouldn’t have been, but you were scared.

You’d started dating Billy the second he arrived in town and Steve thought you were actually nuts. At first, it might’ve been because he was in love with you, but then he got the shit kicked out of him by the fucker and all bets were off. He didn’t tell you about the scene, because he didn’t want you to worry or worse, bring it up with the asshole that’d done it to him, but he didn’t hold back his disdain about him with you anymore.

But you had a feeling something more was going on. Billy was not exactly subtle about his disdain for your friend, but you assumed it would fade eventually, a sort of jealousy on both their parts. But that didn’t fade and soon Steve was actively pissing on your guy. And Billy, well he’d always been an ass about Steve, so nothing much changed.

What changed was Billy’s attention. Kristen McMasters got a boob job over the Christmas break and all bets were off. Billy was…enticed to say the least.

Everyone seemed to know it was coming before you. Everyone except Steve. He would’ve told you, he swore that and you believed him, but he was distracted by his hatred and missed the signs. And you certainly didn’t see it coming. You knew enough about Billy’s family to guess that the holiday season was not going to be a merry season for him. You thought he was stressed out by upcoming exams and finding the cash to buy gifts for his stepmother and Max, which Neil was forcing him to buy. You thought it would fade when you got to Macy’s birthday bash.

And it did, sort of. Because he abandoned you and, after you went searching, you found him with Kristen McMasters riding him, her fake tits bouncing wildly. You guessed it was a good stress reliever for him.

You blamed Carol, for not telling you what was happening in the room she declaring your missing boyfriend was in. You blamed yourself, for not knocking first. You blamed Kristen, for going off with your boyfriend and screwing him. But mostly, you blamed Billy for being unable to ignore the lure of big, perky, fake boobs. You blamed him for being such an awful boyfriend.

You thanked Steve.

He found you, screaming at Billy and crying as he dismissed your emotions and smacked Kristen’s ass as she scurried out, red faced and head hung in shame. He led you away, letting you cry it out in the car, and letting you punch Carol in her bitchy face, wiping the snotty smirk off her face. Best of all, he let you hide at his place when your mother sent you angrily over to the Hargrove-Mayfield house with the big batch of cookies she’d made for them for Christmas. You gorged yourself on baking while watching movies in his big empty house; his parents weren’t home till Christmas Eve and you hid a batch your mother had made in the freezer for them to have, switching the notes she’s written out from ‘To Billy, Love Y/N’ to ‘To the Harrington’s, season greetings from the Y/L/N’s’ and insisting Steve pull them out to defrost before his parents returned. It was a nice that turned into several days as you just kept hiding their, studying for exams and listening to music and forcing him to decorate.

He helped you heal over Christmas. He helped you when you had to return to school. He held you back when you found Kristen and Billy were a couple and bragging about how Billy hadn’t been satisfied before he ditched you. He drove you to school and brought you coffee and kept Billy off your ass. He took a lot of grief from the guy in exchange for him ignoring you.  It was something he didn’t even think twice about; you didn’t need his bullshit and Steve didn’t really care, it just made Billy look like an asshole.

And it was making Billy look like an asshole. Even Tommy didn’t think it was that funny anymore.

The semester shifted wildly in Steve’s favour-suddenly, the world seemed to go back into place. But Steve didn’t want it anymore. He didn’t want to be King Steve; he wanted to be the world’s best babysitter to Dustin and his friends and your best friend. Internally, he wanted to be your boyfriend, but he didn’t think that was gonna happen and so he held out for the friendship you shared.

Of course, you were more than ready to be with him, if he’d ask. Steve, post Nancy, had gotten incredibly good at hiding his feelings. He didn’t want to get hurt again and you couldn’t stand the idea of ruining your friendship or his comfort with you by bringing in silly feelings. You’d just suffer in silence and watch him be happy.

But it was sort of weird. As Steve gained his status back among your peers, the girls who hadn’t been so vocal in their interest in him began crawling out of the woodwork and into his lap. Maybe they had always been there and you hadn’t noticed, or maybe they simply jumped ship from Billy onto him. But either way, Steve wasn’t as interested in them. And that threw you for a loop-Steve was always a ladies’ man, a womanizer and a flirt. Every girl seemed to have a Steve Harrington story-an encounter or a near miss that bound them in some sort of gossip circle. You didn’t have one of these moments, at least not one that you’d tell anyone about.

Steve was trashed, positively trashed. You knew that he was gonna go nuts, seeing as how it was March break and he had the house empty, again, meaning no one to catch him trashed upon his return. Katy Andrews, a naïve junior, had decided to throw the annual Spring Break Bash at her house, her parents seemingly equally naïve as to leave her alone while they went to Florida to visit her grandparents. The house was destroyed and poor Katy was crying in the bathroom, moaning that her parents were going to kill her, and you had to get Steve back home before he blacked out or did something even more regrettable. He had already smashed poor Katy’s pool table in the basement, although you weren’t sure she knew about that yet. You intended to get Steve out before he started blabbing about it.

Steve wasn’t easily dragged off by most, but you grabbed him tight and kept him moving, hooking an arm around his chest as he whined about wanting to “fucking party!”You were just glad Steve lived close so you wouldn’t have to drive him anywhere. Once you were out on the sidewalk, Steve went with you without a hitch, a goofy smile like pure sunshine on his face. When you arrived at him house, you pulled the spare key from under the mat and unlocked the door, not bothering to try to get Steve to remember where he put his.

“Finally, I got you alone…” he slurred stumbling into the dark house, his warm hands coming to your hips as he walked, well tripped, up the stairs.

“Oh god, Steve, be careful you’re gonna fall down the stairs and take me with you.” You laughed, pulling his hands off your waist and hoping he didn’t fall from the change. He whined loudly as you pushed him up and into his room.

“Alright lay down I-”

“Woah woah slow down, baby, I like it slow.” His hands came to your face and you froze, unsure if he was kidding or not. But his lips came to yours, quick and warm and gentle. And you let yourself kiss him back, a selfish decision you rationalized as the only one you’d ever make with him. He broke away first, rubbing his thumbs over your cheeks, smiling softly at you “You’re so beautiful, Nancy…”

Your blood ran cold, but you maintained an easy smile as your heart broke “And you’re so drunk, Steve. Let me go get you some water so you’re not hung over tomorrow.” You said, patting his cheek gently and pulling away. Steve didn’t follow and you took the opportunity to let a loud and sad sigh trying to keep from crying. You’d done it yourself, letting yourself get your hopes up that he could feel the same way about you. You filled a glass, bringing it back upstairs. Steve had passed out and you decided not to wake him, letting yourself feel a bit of vindictive anger and letting him suffer in the morning. You had told your parents you were crashing at a friend’s house and so made your way downstairs, crashing on Steve’s couch, feeling smaller than ever.

You never reminded Steve of this moment, you didn’t want to embarrass the poor guy, but you distanced yourself a bit after that. You had had hope before that moment but after it you put some space between the two of you. You didn’t want to get hurt and you really didn’t want to get hurt by Steve. So you did your best to break away-you went out with other people, including one terrible date with Keith from the arcade. You partied without him, you drank and danced, you even hung out with Tommy and Carol again and got high in Tommy’s basement, watching Kristen beg for Billy’s attention as he kept his locked on you. It wasn’t fun, not nearly as it would’ve been to just get high with Steve, hot boxing his bedroom with a bag of cheese puffs between you. But it was what you needed to do. You needed to be away.

But Steve kept dragging you back.

He couldn’t lose you, he wouldn’t. He didn’t know what he did but he was determined to get you back. He chased you single-mindedly, determined to keep you in your life. And he did, you were never going away, and he knew that.

He made his moves in small ways too. He took you to prom, under the guise of him needing a date for when he won prom king, which he did by a landslide. He tried to not marvel at you in stiff taffeta as you shuffled around, trying to blow stiff pieces of hair out of your eyes as you sipped spiked punch with a bored expression. Prom wasn’t exactly your scene, but you had some fun dancing with him. He looked so handsome in his dumb suit and, later, in his cheesy plastic crown, you couldn’t keep your eyes off him. Despite not wanting to go at all, you had a lot of fun. It would’ve been better if he was actually your boyfriend, so you could be jealous when Tina tried to hit on him and make a scene. Instead you watched in silence, barely listening to Nancy as she whined about Jonathan’s whining about the music playing at the event. You wanted Steve to be happy and if that meant Tina then you’d deal with Tina next to your broken heart.

As summer came and college approached, you began to hit your breaking point. You had two options for college, one within driving distance and one on the opposite side of the state. You had been honestly been considering staying in two, a cheaper choice that could mean renting an apartment in between the school and your home town. But staying in town could only lead to more pain from your longing, a pain that could be ended simply by leaving him behind. Steve was staying in town, he was going to the police academy, so leaving could be the right choice.

But there was only one way to find out.

Steve had been working at Scoops Ahoy! all summer, leaving him smelling like spoiled milk all the time, but flushed with cash and a new found disdain for his classmates and their parents. You hung out with him at work often enough, meeting his co-worker Robin, who you thought Steve obviously had a crush on, until you learned about her girlfriend Heather. You felt silly after that, but it just reminded you that you had to tell him how you felt.

And soon.

You waited until July, because you had to submit your acceptance by the end of the month for community college and the second week for your second choice. You needed to know before you chose.

Normally, you wouldn’t invite yourself over to Steve’s house, especially without a call first, but something in your gut told you that if you tried to call, you’d chicken out. So you got in your car and drove, grinding your teeth and locking your eyes on the horizon, fingers rapping on the steering wheel erratically. You knew Steve’s parents were gone to the summer house in Spain, a trip Steve wasn’t invited on, but you didn’t know if Steve was home.

His car certainly was. You parked behind him, scurrying up the steps and knocking loud and fast on the door. There was no answer, but you tried again, ringing the doorbell, pressing the button a few too many times.

You heard Steve’s voice through the door “I’m coming! Jesus Christ…” He pulled the door open with a scowl that fell away when he saw you. He had obviously just been in the pool. You started to wonder if someone else was here. Still, you held your ground.

“Hey, Y/N, I didn’t know it was you, what’s up?” he said awkwardly, smiling tersely.

“I need to talk to you.” You said, pushing your way past him and into the dark house, dropping your bag on the table by the door. Steve followed behind you awkwardly, wet feet squishing on the tile. He didn’t know what you were here for, but he wasn’t exactly going to kick you out now.

You stopped in the living room, unlit and quiet. You turned to look at Steve, trying to settle your heart and breathing. “Should I go away for school?” you asked breathlessly, the words falling out of your mouth in a tangled string.

Steve’s eyebrows flew into his hairline “Why are you asking me?”

“Cause you’re my friend and I want your opinion.” You snapped, crossing your arms over your chest, foot tapping fasting on the carpeted floor.

“Well I don’t know, do what you want.” Steve said, your tense energy starting to feed into his own and making him tense and snippy.

“Well I don’t know! That’s why I’m asking you!”

“What does my opinion matter anyway, Y/N?” Steve sighed, looking away. His body language changed and you noticed instantly.

Because of course Steve didn’t want you to move away. He wanted you to stay right there in his pocket, where he could hold onto the hope that you’d one day catch onto these signals he was so sure were obvious to everyone and you feel the same.

“You clearly have an opinion, so let me hear it, I wanna hear it!”

Steve groaned, dread settling into his stomach. He didn’t like this conversation, he knew it would only end in a fight.

“Go wherever you want, Y/N, what does it matter what I think?”

“Because I love you, you enormously stubborn pain in my ass and I’m not gonna move away if you feel the same!” you cried exasperatedly.

Well there it was. It’s out. And Steve was deadly silently, staring at you unblinkingly. That was answer enough for you, you pushed past him and rushed towards the front door. You knew you were about to cry or scream and you wouldn’t let either happen in front of him.

Steve grabbed your arm, pulling you back and crashing you into his chest, his other coming to your face, kissing you hard before you could interject or try to pull away.

He’d frozen when you said that you loved him. Because that had never happened before. He’d said it once and the results were disastrous for his self esteem and mindset. But you loved him. It rocked him to his core, he didn’t know what to do. And then you were walking away and he knew he’d waited a second too long. And now he was kissing you and you were kissing him back and oh my god the world could end and he’d be utterly content.

He broke away first, he needed to take a deep breath, but he kept his hands firmly on your face, looking down at you with the softest, most love struck expression you’d ever seen.

“Don’t go, okay? I want you to stay here with me.” He whispered softly.

You couldn’t help the grin that broke onto your face “I thought you didn’t have an opinion?”

“I thought you didn’t feel the same.”

“How could I know how you felt if you didn’t tell me?” you asked teasingly, poking a finger into his chest.

“I thought you’d catch on to…the obvious signals I was giving?”

“And what signals would those be?” you asked, watching Steve flounder for an answer, which he never found. “If it makes you feel better, I was looking for proof that you didn’t like me at all.”

“We’re idiots aren’t we?” Steve asked, pulling you closer to him.

“Nah, we’re just…selectively smart.” You grinned, and Steve pulled your chin up to meet his lips. You pressed a finger on his lips, keeping you apart for a second. “Wait, you…you like…you love me too right?” you asked awkwardly, watching as the error hit Steve again.

“Oh yeah! Shit, right, I do! I love you!” Steve blushed and you pulled him down to kiss you again, clinging onto him as if your world was ending.

In a way, it was.

Survey #241

“where once a heart was beating, nothing but embers glow. our love, it serves as kindling to stoke this flame’s inferno.”

Would you care if your partner did drugs etc? If it was legal here and just for medical purposes, I'd be fine with just weed. Otherwise, I treat the idea the same way as I would a tobacco smoker: no. Has anyone lost their virginity to you? I guess in a gay context? For two females, when is it really... "lost?" Idk. Do you live near a beach? Like... two hours away. Have you ever skipped school just because you were tired? Ha ha, yeah... Do you enjoy going through the car wash? I do, actually. I'm still a little kid when it comes to the rainbow soap, ha ha. Have you done anything embarrassing lately? Oh, I'm sure. How many bracelets do you have on your wrists right now? One. Would you consider painting your bedroom purple? Noooo, it wouldn't be cute y'all. Do you actually wear every shirt in your drawer? Ha, no... mainly because there's a handful of them that I'm working to shrink back into. Then there's others I'm self-conscious of because of color and having hyperhidrosis out the ass. Just wearing black disguises sweat the best. Would you ever get a tattoo on your collar bone? I have one already, but I'm getting it covered at some point. I didn't put much thought into it and has no meaning to me now. I plan on getting the other collarbone tatted too, of course. Are you pregnant right now? Bitch fuck no. Do you still dress up for Halloween? Ugh, no, but only because I can't afford even things to put together my own costume. Not having anywhere to go only further discourages dressing up period. Who was the last male you talked to? My dad. Do you hate cuddling? Hell no, if I like you anyway. Do you have any bruises right now? No. Why did you take the last pill you took? They're my morning prescription meds. My last pill was for anxiety. Could you handle having kids? FUCK no. Nervous breakdowns would happen twice a week, I promise. What outfit makes you feel the most attractive? Attractive? In anything? What a concept. What do you think of people who always wear make-up? You do you, boo. What’s a smell that absolutely makes you gag? Gag, probably vomit. Or feces of some animals. Is there a smell that gives you headaches? GASOLINE. And fresh-cut grass. What do you do while you’re on campus but not in class? Sit in the library doing schoolwork or whatever on my laptop. Do you know anyone who has Autism/Asperger’s syndrome? Yes. Has anyone of the same sex ever hit on you? Yeah. Are you open to a same-sex relationship and why or why not? Yeah; been in one already and I'm still open to dating another girl. What do you think of people who litter and do you? I openly fucking despise you. So obviously not. How much time do you spend online daily? If I'm not in school, I can like... guarantee you I'm on the computer doing at least something. Not always the same site, but I'm somewhere. I absolutely hate how reliant I am on the Internet. Do you wear sunglasses regularly? I never do. I need prescription sunglasses. Who was the last person you called? My mom. Do you own a tablet of any kind? No. Do you tend to put things off until the last minute? OH YES INDEED. What are your parents’ natural hair colors? What is yours? Mom's is brown, and I cannot believe Dad was born with blond hair. HOW does that turn black. I was born dirty blonde. Are you afraid of getting shots? Nah, just the injection is kinda painful with how it burns. Do you hate it when people smoke around you? I very much so hate it. Have you ever wanted to vlog? Noooo, I'm too awkward for that. Always have been. What’s the last piercing you got? Tongue. Do you have a best friend? Ye. What’s your internet homepage? Google. Do you have a shower stall or a bath tub? A tub. When was the last time you saw someone attractive? In person? Idk. What do you hear right now? "I Am Hell" by Machine Head. This time last year, can you remember who you liked? Same person I like now. Did you speak with your father today? No. Are you currently frustrated with someone? No. Name one of your hobbies? Watch YouTube is high up there and like... the only thing I have motivation to do lately. I really hate it. I want my writing will to come back. What is your biggest worry in life right now? My lack of a job. Do you like hot or cold showers? Hot. Are you happy with your relationship status? I don't have a particular feeling about it. What colors would you like to have at your wedding? Depends on the season and the opinion of my spouse, too. How easy was it to get over the person you last dated? It didn't take too long, though it was really because the event left me believing we were, without question, getting back together once we are independent enough to live on our own/mutually move out. It's still possible we may, should life just play out where it works out, but it also was much easier to accept because we're still completely best friends. Have you ever lived with a girlfriend/boyfriend? Not on paper, but pretty much. How old were you when you first smoked weed? But I never have. What is one thing that you’ve done that a lot of people said you couldn’t? Idk; I don't have a lot of unsupportive people in my life. Who was the last person you had a deep conversation with? Mom. What was the last reason you cried? I listened to a song that deeply triggered my PTSD. Have you ever hated a song, and then later on found that you liked it? Yup, however that works. Did you have a good childhood? It was mostly normal, I guess? Do you play games on your PC? Just World of Warcraft right now. I started Alien: Isolation and Resident Evil 6 FOREVER ago, I just haven't had the motivation to finish either. Do you have a formspring? It's familiar, but I'm actually not sure what that even is. Do you know anyone that is racist? Welcome to the South. Do you have an active sex life? No. Are you defensive about anything? Yes. Have you ever driven 80+ mph? No. Have you ever changed a lightbulb? Yes. Have you ever gotten a bullseye in darts/archery? Darts, possibly. Never done archery. Do you have a Wii? Yeah. Do you own any animals that absolutely hate you? No. What brand is the computer you’re currently on? Acer. Are there any piercings you want but you’re too afraid it will hurt? The pain factor doesn't keep me away from piercings, so no. Do you think ear gauging is gross? When it gets to a certain width, to me anyway, it's pretty ew. I don't judge at all about someone having them, but it can get to a point where it just isn't appealing imo. Are you afraid of anyone in your family? Who and why? No. What’s the last scary movie you saw? Ummmm idk. It's been a long-ass time. I'm sure something in theaters, but I really don't know. Why aren’t you friends with your last ex? We are friends. When did you last spend the night at a friend’s house? A year ago when I was at Sara's. Did you ever watch 2Girls1Cup? Fuck no, I've never even looked into what exactly it is, but I know enough to know I don't wanna fucking see it. Do you have anxiety or depression? *shrugs* Why not both? Have you ever lived in a mobile home? No. Have you ever had your bedroom in a basement? Never even had a basement to begin with lol. Friend asks you to hide drugs, booze etc for them, do you do it? lol no. Animal you like to watch but sort of creeps you out: Big spiders. I particularly like writing spiders/orb weavers though, and watching big spiders eat is just fascinating. Have you entered the Lays create a flavor contest? Oh man how long ago was that??? No. Bagels or English muffins? Bagels gotta win it for me. Who is a family member you look forward to seeing on a holiday? On Christmas especially, I love seeing my niece and nephew because they're just so excited. Brings me back to what it felt like as a little kid. Are Easter baskets only for kids? No. My sisters and I each had super cute baskets that Mom would fill until like... two years ago. Now that it's just me living with her, she'll just usually buy me a candy bar or something. Do you do anything to recognize St Patrick’s Day? No. Do you think nutcracker figurines are creepy or cool? No opinion. Speaking of nuts, do you like them? For the most part, no. There are instances however where I can enjoy like little pieces of them with other kinds of food, ex. chocolate. What do you do when you are nervous? Dead giveaway: I'm kneading/playing with my hands. I pace naturally, but I do so more frequently when I am nervous. I'll have a harder time making eye contact, too. Does your family have an SUV or pick up truck? No. Which of your parents do you laugh more with? Dad. Have you ever been to an open casket wake or funeral? Wake, yes. Who mows the lawn at your house? Some guy Mom knows through the dance studio. Where do you keep your phone at night? Usually to the right of my pillow, a bit far away, and up more towards the headboard. My bed's a queen-size and it's just me, so I have room where I won't hit it. If it has to charge though, then it's on the table beside my bed. Do you feel comfortable asking your parents or grandparents for money? No in almost every case. I'm only somewhat comfortable if it's Mom and I'm asking for like a snack from the gas station or something like that. What’s the last thing you lost? My phone, I think. If you could have your own car or an apartment, which would you choose? An apartment would be entirely useless as I am in no way competent enough to live alone yet, and a car wouldn't have much use seeing as I only have my permit and STILL pretty much never drive. It'd be more useful than an apartment, though. Last time you hid, and why: Uhhhhh. I have zero clue. How do you like your eggs? I'll only ever take them scrambled with cheese. Favorite Mexican food? Quesadillas. Upcoming event you are dreading? I'm happily enjoying it right now, but in another way, I'm dreading school break ending just because I am INCREDIBLY nervous about the effects of it on my legs with the whole muscle atrophy thing. I'm scared of regressing. Do you have a favorite pen? What kind? No. Do you do more surveys during the day or night? The day. Just shampoo, or shampoo + conditioner? Just shampoo. Conditioner adds oil to your hair, and trust me, my hair does NOT need any extra oil. Scariest driver you’ve ridden with: Dad the day he had to pick Nicole and me up from school and we had a 30-minute drive home. Basically, we got home in maybe 15 or less. He was in a fucking awful mood, speeding like hell, running red lights, passing illegally... I was entirely convinced we were going to die that day. Still one of the scariest of my life. Do you think you’re smarter than the average person? If so, why? It depends on the subject matter; in areas such as English, wisdom, stuff kinda like that, honestly yeah. In areas like common damn sense and mathematics, fuck no. What was the last topic you did thorough research on? Why? Paganism. I recently found that Neo-Paganism is the closest description for my spiritual beliefs; it covers such a broad spectrum, and it emphasizes the divinity of nature, free will (so long you are not inflicting harm upon another), the equality of man and woman (plus the beauty of humanity), and one of the concepts of the "ultimate being" includes not an actual deity, but just like this... source of energy and power. I don't even know if I believe it to be conscious, it's just like... the source, and it lies within nature. I'm still doing more and more research into it as I'm thoroughly intrigued, and I continue to feel more at home with its inclusiveness to an array of interpretations. What was the last thing to upset you? So beyond just an annoyance? Probably when this random fucking Facebook post of a father sharing just how proud he was of his son for killing wolves together and sharing purely evil photographs of them playing with/posing the bloody dead bodies (which included making them "snarl" at the camera, and mind you, their mouths were full of blood) popped up on my feed for no goddamn reason. Safe to say, I left a comment and got into a fight with a backwards son of a fuck who thought it was totally kosher to kill these "vermin" and used personal attacks versus logic to try in vain to prove his point, when all he did was accomplish me seeing him as the vermin. Where did you go to the last time you left your house? My sister's house. Do you wear something on your left hand/wrist/arm without fail? Friendship ring with Sara as well as the bracelet she gave me. What is an article of clothing you would never ever wear? Stealing the last answer of jumpsuits. Will you go outside today? Probably not. Are you doing everything you can to make yourself happy? Not everything. I know I could do more. What is a phrase or a saying you try to live by? I don't think I have a set one that I always look to. I refer more to ideas, such as to be unrelenting in your goals. What is something you lie to yourself about? I don't know. I'm not good at that. What has been the best job you’ve ever had? lol What is a holiday, that is NOT celebrated in your country, that you would like to celebrate? Day of the Dead. I know some do celebrate it here, but it's more of a holiday in Mexico. Which nation’s culture (excl. your own) do you find the most interesting? Germany's, from what I remember. We learned quite a bit about them while I took it as a language. They are very serious about honesty and manners. What is something you judge about other people? How you treat others, certain aspects of ones personality (ex., arrogance), and as the previous person stated, to a certain degree anyway, moral/political/religious beliefs. What is something you do not want to discuss? I get really uncomfortable talking about sex, and though no one in my "real" life knows about it (except perhaps Mom due to an outburst during the breakup), I don't like even looking back on the Joel situation. There are also some political things I just don't want to talk about. Do you enjoy solving problems? No, shit's stressful. Are you a kinesthetic, an auditory or a visual learner? Kinesthetic, 100%. Are you an introvert, an extrovert or an ambivert? I'm a pretty strong introvert, though not as much as I once was. I can get lonely kinda quickly now, but I still NEED my alone time. Are you socially anxious or awkward? OH BOY AM I!!!!!!! Do you actually think it’s gross to talk about body functions? NO!!!!!!! This needs needs needs to be normalized because it's stuff we all endure, so we should be comfortable talking about these things, asking questions, etc. Have you ever sent a love letter? Yeah. When you look up at the sky do you ever NOT see a plane or vapor trail? Yeah. Welcome to the country. Do you wear any shoes with holes because you can’t give them up? No. When you go out to breakfast, what do you order? Pretty much always pancakes, scrambled eggs, and bacon. What’s the best compliment you’ve gotten from a boss/teacher? That when she came back to teaching, I was the exact kind of student she hoped for. What’s a weird or interesting nickname you gave someone? lmao the first one that came to mind was Connie's "Einnoc." Is there a phrase or mantra you repeat when you are frightened? No. What are you most envious of? Successful photographers lmao. Do you have a friend with a habit that worries you? Yes. Would you rather have coffee, cocoa, tea, or soda? UGH soda. That's my weaknesses. You could take sweets from me, but I'm pretty reliant on soft drinks. When you walk into your best friend’s room, what do you smell? I don't remember, actually... I haven't been there enough. Have you ever purposely broken something that belonged to a sibling? Wow, no. Have you ever worked at the same place as your best friend? No. Do you like to visit famous people’s homes? I've never done that, and I find it disrespectful anyway. Give celebs their privacy, goddamn. Do you take days off from shaving when you can get away with it? The only thing I shave are my armpits, and considering I don't shower everyday, yes. Every time I do take one however, I always shave. Is there anything hanging on your bathroom walls? No. If your SO agreed, would you want an open relationship? No. Have you ever slept with three people in the same bed? When? Why? At some point, yeah, but not in a romantic context. It was with friends or family when we had limited space. Does your family regularly eat sit down meals together? Pretty much never. Who would you like to slow dance with? To what song? SOBS "The Only Exception" by Paramore w/ Sara continues to sob What’s your favorite pet name someone calls you? None that I have now. If you could talk to one species of animal what would it be? Good question. I guess cats, as I have one and would love to know what he thinks. What’s the largest animal you’ve ever seen in person? An elephant, strolling RIGHT by the fence at the zoo. Have you ever used the change counting machine at a store or mall? Ohhh, I remember those! Yes. Would you give mouth to mouth to your dog to save its life? We have a dog I honestly can't stand, and this is gonna get me mentally punched, but I don't know. NO, not BECAUSE I don't like him, but I don't love him enough to deal with those germs. I don't think I could stomach doing it. If you came with a warning label, what would it say? "Is going to be uncomfortable if you say one word to her but craves friendship anyway." Have you ever tried to learn a language on your own? No. Have you ever had a pet destroy something valuable or important? The thing that upset me the most was when Teddy tore up the corner of one of my art pieces I'm most proud of. I cried. It was weird considering he never really tore up stuff... but alright then. What’s the best burger EVER? UGH I'm weak for Wendy's Baconators. Did you ever show up late for an important event? Probably at some point?

The Escapee's

Pairing: Cheryl Blossom x Reader

Requested: Anonymous

Summary: After meeting at the Sister's, you help Cheryl escape.

GIF Not Mine

It was strange to say the least that your conservative parents didn’t have an issue with you being a Serpent but did have one with you kissing someone of the same sex. That wasn’t entirely true. They didn’t like you being a Serpent but they couldn’t do much about the fact you were one, seeing as your grandad was one. They could, however, do something about you being bisexual. When your dad walked in on you kissing someone of the same sex he didn’t hesitate in sending you away. He sent you to the Sister's of Quiet Mercy, where conversion therapy took place off the books. You didn’t have time to tell your friends where you were going. No one but your parents knew where you were meaning no one could save you.

A few weeks had passed and you were still trapped. No one has come to visit and no one really talks to you, afraid of the consequences if they did. You were dubbed a menace after your first few days and was instructed to clean the basement, amongst other things. It allowed you to try and find possible ways out.

You were sent down to the basement, yet again, only this time there was someone else there. A girl your age with fiery red hair. You had heard about a new kid but have yet to meet her. "Let me guess, your mom is not okay with your deviant ways and sent you here against your will to repent you of your sins." You spoke up once the door was slammed shut behind you. Cheryl jumped slightly at the new voice in the room. Since arriving no one has batted an eyelid at her let alone spoken to her so when you started talking to her she was shocked.

"How did you know?" Cheryl asked you.

"It’s pretty much everyone’s story here." You told her, a smile ghosting across your lips. "I’m Y/N by the way."

"Cheryl." She introduced herself, a smile matching yours appearing.

"So, Cheryl, how do you feel breaking out of this hell hole?" You grinned at her when the smile fell to confusion, not understanding what you meant.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, since arriving here I’ve been trying to find a way out. I’m almost there so when it’s time do you want to come with me?" You asked her to which she responded with a nod.

The breaking out part of the plan came sooner than expected when Cheryl’s friends came looking for her. The two of you were sat watching a movie, your hand resting on the bench alongside Cheryl's. There had to be a respectable distance between you, that didn’t stop you or Cheryl though from linking your little fingers together. It was enough pda to feel close but not too much that you’d get caught. Shouting in a hushed voice from the hallway caused you to jump apart. It wouldn’t have been significant if it wasn’t Cheryl’s name they were shouting. The two of you glanced at each other before getting up and walking to the hallway. Glee crossed Cheryl’s face, clearly knowing the two girls who have come and rescued her.

"Thank god you’re okay." The girl with raven hair said with relief coating her tone.

"We need to get you out of here." The other one added. You recognised that voice and looking up you recognised the hair.

"Toni?" You breathed, almost as if you can’t believe that she was standing in front of you.

"Y/N? What are you doing here? Your parents said that you were moving up to your grandparents place." Toni asked.

"Well, they were the ones who put me here, so..." You trailed off. Voices coming from behind you let you know that the nuns were aware of the break in and that there wasn’t a lot of time to get Cheryl out. "You guys need to go now." You told them. Veronica didn’t need to be told twice but Toni and Cheryl didn’t make a move to leave.

"What about you?" Toni asked you.

"I’ll distract them."

"Y/N, I’m not leaving you in here." Cheryl said, grabbing your hands affectionately.

"You have to. If I don’t stay then we’ll both be stuck in here still." You removed your hands from her grasp and moved to cup her cheeks, pressing a soft kiss on her lips. "I’ll find you. I promise. Now go." You urged her. A stray tear rolled down her cheek as Toni lead her to the entrance of the tunnels. You turned around ready to face the wrath of the nuns that were marching down the corridor.

Since the night of Cheryl's escape they had upped your regime. It wasn’t nothing you couldn’t handle though. The thought of seeing Cheryl again kept you going. It was two days, two long days, since you last saw her. That fact alone motivated you even more. When you were finally left alone in the basement you moved some boxes in front of the door so no one could come in straight away. You then ran up to the window and jiggled it open. All you had to do was break the rusted bar off and then you were free. Before you climbed out of the window you looked back one last time, remembering this was where you first met Cheryl and all of the conversations you had in there. The sound of approaching footsteps urged you to hurry up and finish climbing out of the window.

You weren’t sure where to go. You were certain your parents have left town, not that you would’ve gone back there in the first place, and you didn’t know where Cheryl lived. The only option you had was go to Pop's and call whosever number you could remember. You walked up to the counter, slightly out of breath from running, and waited for someone to come over to serve you. "Y/N?" A voice came from behind you. You turned around and when you did your face lit up.

"Cheryl." You gasped, flinging your arms around her. She returned the gesturing, embracing you in a hug. "I told you I’d find you." You said, closing your eyes, content with the moment.

Requests are open

Tag List (Still Open): @mayasmedberg @lunarmoonwolf @princess-of-the-fandoms @live--aloud @betty-dale @thejulietfarciertlove @fangirling-central @kytty27 @rhyxn @notalwaysfair @serpentbaby @rochyu @inspiredbynewt @sweet-fogarty-topaz @aya-fay @jcc04220 @lostnliterature @majalissa @nicolemelton @buckybombshell1 @lena-davina

Heal Me // Doctor!Shawn (A Soulmate AU) Part 3

(i mentioned making this a 3 part series, well it’s going to be more than 3 parts lol)

Part One | Part Two 

A week passes and you find yourself fitting into Shawn’s home life fairly easily. He was quiet, gave you your space and offered to help any time you appeared to be struggling. You had made it clear you just wanted to stay until the snow storms eased up and insisted that it was temporary and that he remembered that. The idea of staying longer was tempting though. His place was extremely nice, well decorated, high end furniture and appliances. It was one of those homes you see on HGTV that has been remodeled but kept that vintage look about parts of the house. Shawn gave you free access to everywhere, save for the basement because you couldn’t get down there, but if you could, you were technically allowed to look down there too.

Shawn was sweet. So sweet and caring it just seems unreal. How could someone be so genuine and happy and selfless 24/7? It seemed unnatural and you weren’t sure when it was going to fade. If you were going to be soulmates, you would need to get to know the real Shawn and not the happy homemaker that he was appearing to be.

It was the tenth night and you were laid out on the couch, blanket on your lap, foot elevated on a stack of decorative pillows to alleviate swelling. The TV was on some Hallmark made for TV Christmas themed romance about a prince taking home some regular girl and trying to make his family accept her. Shawn had gone to work early in the morning and now it was well after 7pm and he was finally getting home. You peek over the couch to the front door and see him get blown in by the wind that was starting to pick up again. Another blizzard was due to hit the area, this time bringing ten more inches of snow and possible rolling blackouts. Winter was shit because it was literally keeping you from going home to your own apartment.

Shawn hangs his coat on the hallway hook and slides his wet black tennis shoes off into the boot tray beneath. You watch as he discards his gloves and scarf and hat into the basket beside the boot tray. It’s interesting the way he works. Even when he isn’t in the hospital he does everything in a methodical, precise way. You noticed after the first day when every time you put your leg up, he would get the pillows stacked up in a specific order, put the blanket over your lap, get you the remote, then make you tea. Every time. Watching him undress was the same. Coat first, then shoes, gloves, scarf, and hat. You wonder for a second if he does this on purpose or if it’s just become a day to day way to do things in a certain order because that’s what his job often required and he had drilled into his head.

“Welcome home,” you say and raise your hand up to wave. He looks up from where he’s putting his keys in the catch all tray and smiles. “Long day?”

“Shit day. Long hard shit day,” he scrubs a hand over his face as he walks toward the living area. He’s still in his scrubs, the black ones, your favorite, and his undershirt which is dark green today. His hair is a mess like he’s been running his hands through it over and over. Overall he looks good, tired, but good. “God, it was a fucking shit, crap, garbage trash day.”

This is the most stressed you’ve ever heard him and it brings you a little bit of joy. Seeing a part of him that wasn’t mister sweetheart. You pat the sofa beside you and say, “Come sit. Watch shitty hallmark movies with me. I promise not to spoil the super predictable endings for you.”

Shawn laughs and you love it. You love the way he laughs. It’s always this sort of soft initial chuckle followed by a series of quieter chuckles that trail off into a lingering smile. It’s hard not to like him. Not that you were trying not to. It was just a little strange feeling how you were so comfortable with him yet you remained strangers to a great extent. “You’ve got me sold. Let me get changed into something less sterile smelling and get some dinner going.”

“We could order out?”

“Not with a storm coming. I wouldn’t want some poor delivery person to get into an accident on the account of my pepperoni pizza.”

“Of course, I forgot about this shitty weather.”

Shawn smiles and shrugs it off. He pulls something out of his pocket and tosses it at you. It’s a roll of hot pink self stick bandage wrap. “Guess what you get to do tonight?”

You pick up the roll and turn it over in your hands. “Uhh...”

“I’m going to rewrap your leg. It’s time to change it. You groan and he just laughs. You had forgotten about having to change the dressing like the nurses had instructed to before you left. There was no way you were going to be able to do it alone. You were so thankful for Shawn at a time like this. He goes upstairs to his bedroom to change and you put the wrap aside in favor of texting your sister that everything was going good and you would have an update on your leg’s progress soon.

Sitting on the couch with Shawn between your legs was something you never thought you would experience, but here you were. He tried cutting away the bandage and gauze that coated your calf down to your foot by sitting on the floor but he couldn’t get the angle he wanted. He tried doing it standing, your foot propped up on his bent leg. That didn’t work. So he sat on the couch, your one leg behind his back and the other in his lap. He puts a pillow under your leg and holds the gauze and bandage up away from your skin as he cuts it away carefully.

Your leg looks pretty gross. It’s covered in old iodine and dried on blood. There is bruising all over and the stitches make it look like something out of a horror film. The wound is about ten inches long if you were to guess a length. It spans much of the outer left side of your calf. You look away and take a deep breath. It was a lot to look at, a lot to remember.

“Hey,” Shawn says softly, hand suddenly on your shoulder. “It looks worse than it is, I promise.”

You nod and look back at it. So gross. Shawn unzips the bag he brought with him from the bathroom and tears open a couple of alcohol cloths to start cleaning up the dried blood and leftover antibacterial cleansers. He works quietly, eyes focused, careful not to catch the cloths on your stitches. Shawn looks over at you every once in awhile to make sure you aren’t in pain, and you aren’t. He’s very gentle.

Several dozen alcohol wipes later, a smear of antibacterial ointment, a ton of gauze and the hot pink wrap and you were ready for another week of healing. Shawn cleans up his mess, carefully tucking the used wipes and left over gauze into a zipper bag and carrying it off with your old dressings and his medi kit. He returns after a while with hot tea and some sandwiches with chips.

“So, why are you so into being soulmates? Like, for me, I’ve always dreamed of falling in love with my soulmate and getting married and having kids someday. I know it’s not always realistic, but my grandparents were soulmates and they spent every single day together and they were the happiest people I ever knew. I want a love like that.”

Shawn smiles weakly. “I wish I could say my inspiration to be a good soulmate was as beautiful.”

“Oh...um...what is your inspiration?”

He looks down and moves his chips around on his plate as if he’s contemplating what to say to you. His voice is quite, saddened, as he says, “My parents. It’s not a great story. I’ll tell you someday.” The way he looks at the TV and not at you as be begins to chew on his lower lip tells you to drop the subject. Finally it seemed you were going to get to see the real Shawn.

It’s a little short! Sorry yall! I Like doing this one in shorter parts idk why but I do.

As always, please reblog to share this with other people! If you like it reblog it please! Thank you! I love you you all~♥

Innerview: M.C. / California Univ. of Pennsylvania​

April 2007

Photo: Family Farm via Google

Note: ​Interview for a design student’s art history paper​.​

0​1) Where did you grow up? My birth was almost recorded at home in an early 1979 blizzard. The gravel road was so full of snow that my mother was transported by a tractor to the paved road leading to the nearest hospital in the town of Chillicothe, MO. I spent the first half of the ’80s on this farm. My brother and I had the best “Star Wars” collection, the old cow got stuck in the mud, I trapped granddaddy long legs in mayonnaise jars, I cried to the raccoon wallpaper, we had chickens in the basement, I loved to romp around the farm and enjoyed everything from dead animals, to The Beatles to tractor pulls. There was a strange beast known as Leopard Man who roamed the local woods, lept fences in a single bound and liked to sneak into houses in search of peanut butter. One of the most memorable moments in my life, a significant spark that led me to my current path of thinking, came in the middle of a somewhat existential crisis in kindergarten where I blacked-out on top of a large metal slide and cracked my head on the ground. My Father’s dream farm was dry for many seasons until the bank kicked us out for lack of bill paying. Thus, forcing us to move into the house/farm that my Father grew up on. This new tilled earth was on a black-top tar road in the rural farming lands of North Central Missouri (really, not too far from the first farm and closer to my grandparents). The town I went to school in has 360 occupants. The graduating class of 1997 had 24. Many additions and renovations later, my parents are still in that same house today. We have a bridge over a creek and many memories of tree houses, dams, forts, sandbox creations, walking on ice and animals are still imprinted there. There are four of us farm children. We loved the opportunity of being able to pee outside, swim in the creek and cattle tank and getting hosed off at the back door…though, none of us will carry on the legacy of the farm that has had many generations of Gibson children laughing and crying in it’s dirt. Even though a majority of time was spent out-of-doors, going to county fairs, playing with animals, hunting and getting dirty, a large portion of time was spent locked in our bedrooms making things and drawing. As children of the 1980s we consumed every possible pop-culture outlet to the real world. My favorite things of the period are still sitting in my studio. Still to this day I can not understand how people shed the things from their youth. I still have everything my grandmother made me. Though, I do not have my dead animal backpack. It got thrown-out. My biggest influences from the time are my Grandparents, Garbage Pail Kids, Pee-Wee Herman, Dr. Demento, war, animals, comic books, tractor pulls, ball cards, films and anything by Jim Henson. My best friend lived in a funeral home. I spent many nights there. We saw many townsfolk lay there. One time we went to the Kansas City, MO airport to pick-up a dead body in the hearse and then went to eat at Showbiz Pizza for my friend’s birthday. When there was a dry spell we played ping-pong and watched movies in the funeral parlor. This was my new after school sanctuary. Even though I could watch most anything at home, I saw many new titles with my buddy. These include Shaft, The Godfather, Alien, Terminator, Evil Dead and loads of other awesome things of that nature. In high school I still stayed in my room as everyone else was out dating. I didn’t understand it all. I was still trying to understand myself. I also enjoyed shooting baskets by myself on my homemade basketball court in the middle of the sheep lot. I spent all of my spare time drawing and making things and playing with my big sheep dog named Bear. I loved skyscrapers, baseball stadiums and graffiti. I wanted to be a sports stadium architect until I realized I was never going to get the hang of math. I went to a Fine Arts Academy in Missouri in the summer of 1996 and realized that maybe I could be a person who makes things of some sort. It was the only thing I was ok at. 0​2) Where do you live now and how do these setting​s​ influence your work? I am well into my 6th year of living in Kansas City, MO. If I get moody for a break from city life or a desperate want to see the stars at night, a two hour retreat can easily be made back to the farm. I enjoy going back and someday I’d like to live in a more rural setting, but closer to the city. I really don’t know how much longer I’ll live here. I’m itching to experience life in other regions. I don’t wish to live an die in the same state. The first four years of my design odyssey I worked as a janitor and grounds keeper. I love these kinds of jobs because I am my own boss, I am left alone and I feel like I am actually doing something with my time…cleaning and drawing and thinking and reading and writing and eating. Now I am employed within a seven minute walk out my back door. My parents think this new job is more prestigious because i sit in a sterile office cubicle and type things into a computer all day. They think it’s a real job. It is not a real place to me. I kinda envy the bum that drinks a cold one every morning at eleven in the back alley and then goes about his business of freedom. The good thing is that I still draw and think while I’m there and I am fortunate to do a lot of networking on the internet. The only honest reasons for me to be there are walking to work, free bbq and soda and health insurance. It is an ok place, but I know it is not my place. Anymore I tire easily of the idea of working another man’s dream. But, it keeps the basement lights on. I do miss bringing home strange and wonderful items from my janitorial positions and all the extra time I had to read books and comics and being alone. However, with my new job I start later so I can squeeze a few rounds of my real work before. Mornings are my best work time. I love to be alone in my basement, maybe a cat or two…I am developing the bad back/posture of my grandfather’s lineage from crouching in my design clubhouse at a table made out of an old door and windows from the farm chicken house. If I am not making things I love to watch movies. I love to hang-out with my wife and four cats too. ​0​3) Where did you receive your education? All that required me to get into Southwest Missouri State University (now, Missouri State University) was top 50% of my graduating class and a minimum score on the ACT. I was the number 12 student out of 24 in my class and I can’t remember my ACT score, but it was right on the nose. I was familiar with the school and town from the setting of the Missouri Fine Arts Academy, so I was good to go. I​t​ doesn’t take much in high school to take top honors as one of the best art talents. However, in college I kind of had to start over as I found there was an abundance to build and grow from and I had a lot to learn and do. On top of that I was extremely naive to what I was getting in to with the graphic arts. I made an outlandish claim to some classmates my first year that I was going to take the route of graphic design that didn’t involve computers. I had no idea the impact of computers on design. Rather, I just wanted to make things with my hands. Turns out things were definitely in my favor as I realized how much of a privilege it was/is to study design there. ​0​4) Describe the curriculum and how effectively do you feel it prepared you for your career? The design professors I studied under are from Eastern Europe and Russia. This was a very unique experience not only in the subject of design but also culture. For a bushy-tailed farm boy this was an immense impact especially. The ways of teaching was more in a tradition sense. Certainly, we learned computers, but more importantly the idea of thinking and drawing. It’s a crucial element to be able to draw. Not only with a pen or pencil but an exacto knife. I don’t believe someone when they say they can’t draw. And it really bothers me when it is a designer. And I don’t understand it when designers fit design/art into a time frame. That’s never been an issue for me. If the switch is off then I must be dead. I know of people who work full-time design jobs that they hate. They come home and don’t do anything but complain about their day. Why not put that frustration towards making something? I know that jobs can drain you physically and emotionally, but why even put yourself through the design motions if you don’t love it…or even be at a place that doesn’t honestly love you back? If I ever had a “real” design job, it better cater to me. It better give me parental rights. Anyway…I am rambling. The importance of design history and culture was also taught in school. Even on my own now I am still cultivating knowledge. Not only from professional design past and present, but from the language of everyday people and things in the world. I don’t consider what I’m doing just for designers or art types. It’s for everyone. This is something that I grabbed from school too. You’ve got to learn how to speak in different languages visually and somehow make it universal. Design is a powerful tool. One of the most powerful things on the planet. 0​5) How did you get your start? Every semester the last couple years of school we would get the itch for the “real” world of design and take tours of professional firms. I always came out of these experiences rather disappointed and depressed. Nothing was heartfelt to me. It was all soulless and everything seemed glossed over and departmentalized. Cookie cutter conveyor belt meat markets. Not every place is like that, but everything that I saw was just dead to me. As a person who is very private and protective of their creative freedom and parental rights and on the path to doing things a bit different, nothing seemed right for me. This isn’t the case for every one. I think we all fit somewhere and you have to find your voice. The big shot studios just weren’t for me. And at that time there weren’t as many smaller firms like there are today. And even then the smaller ones weren’t impressing me much. Anyway….I was doing a lot of work for bands/musicians on the side in school at this time. This was something I loved. It clicked and felt right. I had creative freedom and owned my own work…and I loved music. So, I just befriended many music people and it’s been word of mouth ever since 2000. And if you do something enough it just becomes a part of you. I feel I hit the whole rock poster revival scene just right and started getting recognition and response right away. And here I am…still here, I guess. Though, I’m definitely looking to branch out a bit more. I’m currently interested in making some books and working with clients that can help me quit my day job. I’ll always flirt with the band stuff. Even though there is no money in independent music design and people can sometimes be pretty flakey and unreliable. But, I knew what I was getting into when Art Chantry told me, “Expect to starve. Several times over.” ​0​6) Did you have an internship? Never. Never really wanted one. Never really needed one because I was doing so much freelance my last two years of college. And when I dropped out of school and moved to Kansas City I didn’t want an internship because I was already starting my own little company. I had friends that worked internships. Some with hardships…some eventually helped sail the ships. It just wasn’t my direction. Everybody has a different voice in their design tool belt. What’s funny now is that I have many students contact me every Spring in hopes to intern with this big design firm called DJG Design. It’s funny and sad when I tell them it’s just me and I don’t even make enough money for me to be a full-time employee. Someday I just might take them up on it though. I can pay in hot dogs or something. They can sleep on my floor. I feel bad for most kids that get into an intern relationship. It’s generally a great experience and can lead to possible employment, but I feel that if you are working your rear off and a lot of the time doing the dirt work for people, there should be a reward. Some don’t pay at all, which means you either have to be independently wealthy or work a second job. I wouldn’t want my intern working a second job because that is less time and thought spent on what they really need to be doing. That is ridiculous to me. Oh well, I guess I’m not in a position to authentically voice that from either side. ​0​7) What was your first design job? Was it a positive experience? The only “real” design job I’ve come close to having was making fliers for the department of Campus Recreation at Southwest Missouri State University. It was ridiculous from the top as the ones running the show didn’t trust designers to design for them. The design was off balance from the get go. And of course I was hired for my skills, though they thought they could play art director. Even the guy who was hired to be my art director had no design skills or background, but he was cool. He and I became really close friends and most of the time just cranked out all of our work rather rapidly because we knew what the head honchos would like. The rest of the time we laid on the floor and listened to music. I think we made a lot of people nervous because they didn’t know how to handle us. I gave-up at any real glimpses of trying to use the skills I learned that helped pay the salaries there…and my earning was dirt. It was really ridiculous. Though, on the side of that job I gained some access to valuable resources by way of computers and copy machines and was able to receive a few other design tasks on the side. At the time they were great learning experiences and helped me start to build a name for myself. A name that couldn’t be made working under anybody else. Still, I had people of higher position/status that knew nothing about design try to give me their rusty cents. They tried to tell me how to do things and I took the liberty to put my own personal stamp on things. I made a few things for different student activity groups and brochures and giant poster calendars that every student received. I was the last person to make the giant posters because of how nervous I made the people higher up. It was so great to hold that kind of power at my fingertips. ​0​8) How do you feel about advertising/marketing? I am able to get away with a lot and I pretty much do what I want with my brand of show poster promotion. But, there is a responsibility that comes with that. I’m not only representing myself, but the band, promoter, venue, city…place it’s hanging up. I guess it’s not really advertising, but it is in it’s own abstract way. In terms of conventional advertising/marketing, I can’t really take anything seriously. Maybe because I know how easy it can be for a designer to slap something together to get attention or emotions all wound-up. And it’s normally all about money. Design has really poisoned me but it’s also helped me to see. I dislike most all advertising and marketing. I could never work for them unless it’s on my terms. I realize it’s all a blanket of fabrication to push a product or service, but there are very few things that feel pure and honest to me anymore. And it’s getting worse in the world. Yeah, something can be clever or interesting or well-rendered or smart or completely over-the-top-awesome and get me to laugh, think or kick the air. But, that doesn’t mean it’s gonna change my life. I don’t know any more than the next guy. I can barely read a restaurant menu. And I’m so tired of bandwagon designs and other people telling me what’s hot. I don’t care what’s hot. It’s all so uninspiring and unimportant to me. I see this going on in the majority of the music industry too with every flavor-of-the-month recycled band lacking true heart and spirit. ​0​9) How did you become interested in graphic design? Early on it was anything from the “Star Wars” logo, to logos on seed corn sacks, to sports team logos, to the Apple Records logo, to the “Batman” emblem to the power of historical symbols like the swastika, indian arrowheads and cave paintings. Growing up I didn’t really know what graphic design was in a professional sense. But I knew about it in the manner of how things should be put together in my head and own little world. I just enjoyed drawing logos and comics and all sorts of things, cutting things from magazines and designing type. I was horrible at math but I could draw geometric configurations like mad. The kids that sparkled at math couldn’t draw a straight line. It was so weird to me that they could compute, but not see things like me. In the fifth grade I won a county-wide logo competition. I knew I would win. I was chosen out of several hundred students from many age divisions to represent a skating rink. I received 10 free passes for winning and was supposed to be honored in the grand opening but my school principal forgot to tell me about the celebration. What a joke. Which, I didn’t really care about (Heck, I still don’t like to go to my own art openings). But, I was more upset when my family drove by the logo on the building and it was completely butchered. It wasn’t even mine anymore. I was so sad about that. Maybe that’s why I do things my way now. 10) Are there any designers that you are influenced by? A life-changing design day was when a Lester Beall book fell at my feet in the library while I was shuffling for a book down the shelf. I immediately diverted my search for whatever it was I was looking up and fell in love with Lester Beall. He is one of the great pioneers of modern design. And he seemed like a human being first and a designer second. I could really relate to him. I felt a connection to him when I saw him hugging a lamb. He had a design studio in his sheep barn. It was the coolest and I wanted to get to know him. I checked that book out for the next four months straight. I have many influences. Not only do designers/artists inspire me, but just everyday people and things in the world. I collect worn gloves, handwriting, lists, notes, children’s drawings and many things from the city streets. Ordinary trash becomes my treasure. I am always walking with my head down in hopes of spotting an animal or item in something. And i love thrift stores and pawn shops. My favorite artists are one of the folk art nature. Un-skilled people who one day just start making things. I really love Bill Traylor, Henry Darger, Gregory Blackstock, and Robert E. Smith. There is just so much heart and soul in folk art. I’m not into a lot of painters. I do like some Picasso and most all Robert Rauschenberg, Jean Michel-Basquiat and Peter Blake. Some of my favorite illustrators and designers include Saul Steinberg, Ray Johnson, Stanley Donwood, Henryk Tomaszewski, Alan Fletcher, Edward Gorey, Daniel Johnston, Art Chantry, Chris Ware, Stefan Sagmeister, Seymour Chwast (Push Pin!), Peter Saville, Vaughn Oliver and V23, Aubrey Beardsley, Graphus, James Victore, Saul Bass, Raymond Pettibon, Paul Klee, Ivan Chermayeff, Ralph Steadman, Paul Rand, Tibor Kalman, Cy Twombly…anyway, most anybody that has something to say and in their own way authentically. 11) It seems that your work references a DADA/Futurism/Constructivism style, would you agree with this? What draws you to this style? Rarely do I think about “style” until people bring it up in interviews or in person. Honestly, I don’t strive to attain one. Each day is different for me and my mind and design. I’ve always appreciated what Stefan Sagmeister says, “Style = Fart”. I guess when you approach it as a body of work the design I spill fits in a certain place. But, it’s more about idea and emotion to me. That is what and how it should be. I agree partly with your take on what the look of my body of work references. Maybe a lot of that is due to my particular like of the older school of design thought. Maybe the more collage nature. Though, I don’t really like to say it is that. I feel all design is collage to some extent. Perhaps the more controlled chaos style (I guess that would be a good tag) comes from my association and love with the school of Eastern European design that was channeled through my design instructors in college. I’ve never really been a fan of labels. It is certainly something to ponder though. However, the minute people start saying I am this or that…well, that is when I start to worry and try too hard to wrestle myself to do something else or go in another direction. It can be dangerous. I am my only competition. It’s really all quite silly in the grand salute to life. But, maybe I can learn a thing or two along the way? 12) How would you describe you style? I don’t know. Other than fumbled-mild-mannered-intuition and a bit of whatever is on my mind/heart. It’s Dee Jay Gee all the way and every second of the day. 13) Describe your design process. Boy, these questions are getting harder to answer for me. I love a good happy accident or angelic stumble. But, they can’t be relied upon. I love not thinking, rather just doing. I love intuition. Though, sometimes you do have to think a bit. But, I don’t like to over-kill. Sometimes the idea will become instantly and i will render exactly how it’s in my head. Sometimes I sketch a bit. I love to draw and do oodles and oodles of doodles. Process is a very important thing to me. It’s more important then the final product at times because it’s such a part of me. I have to stick with something once I start it or it’s lost touch with me. It’s hard to come back to something because I’ve already moved on and over it. Well, unless it’s something like a logo or CD design. These happen in several obsessive stages. Sometimes a break is needed to achieve perfection on things with a longer life-span in the world. But, with poster design and illustration it’s typically all on the spot and taken only serious to the point of it being non-serious. I have to have fun. I have to tell a story. And I love humor. Lots of it. I love to tickle myself. I love when others are tickled too. 14) Typically when working on a project, what percentage of time is spent on conceptualization? I brushed this a bit with the last question. It depends on the project I guess. Sometimes I get ideas rather rapidly and quite frequently. For some things it might take a bit to sift through the cliche or whatever mix of feelings or ideas I have that day. Each day is different. Sometimes I sit and wonder what a project I did this morning would look like had I done it in the evening or yesterday or tomorrow. I know it would be different. But, I can’t just sit on my hands. 15) How much time do you typically spend on a project? Some things really come quite rapidly. I’ve made posters in the span of minutes before. It’s more about time management for me. I sometimes have any where from a constant flow of five to ten to fifteen projects going on all at once. And on top of that interviews and book publishers and emails and inquiries and such…and of course the day job. So, I’m constantly thinking all day about the coming and going of things. I love the human mind how it’s always in and out. I love how I can think of something from my childhood and then the next file i pull/cull from my brain juice is about a poster and then i merge the two and B I N G O. Some of my best projects come at the last minute and have been in front of me the entire time. Some of it comes right when I’m told about the project. Sometimes I’m in strange places and put things together in my head or write on scraps of paper. I wish I was a good enough designer to draw you a map. But, I’m still trying to decipher where my hand meets my see. 16) Where do your ideas come from? I hinted at this in previous questions. A person can do something enough that it just becomes a part of them. Like another limb. I don’t know what I’m doing half the time. I just do it. I have to do it. It’s a part of me. It haunts me and busts the phantoms all at once. Design is a funny thing. It’s a scary thing. Ideas come and go. All the time. Influences are all around and in everything. I don’t put things in a time frame. I think all the time. A lot of the time I don’t think. I just do. I just be. I don’t aim to sound new-agey. Design is about life. In the past couple of years I’ve come to the realization that everything I’ve experienced has brought me to this point in this interview. It’s all composed some way and some how. I do a bit of the writing. Some of it is by a bigger hand. Some by just the push and pull of the earth. I’ve also learned to pull and cull from the past. My best and most vivid memories are from my youth. I feel a closer connection to my former self than i do my current. True, formal rules and training come to play with all of this. But, I didn’t really start to click with design until I started to click it with myself. And hopefully there will be more clicking to come…gotta stay busy and hungry. 17) Describe your favorite project that you’ve worked on and what made it special. I always answer a question like this the same. One of the best things I’ll ever make in my life is a handmade CD package for The Elevator Division back in the summer of 2002. The idea came at the the night I started printing. Well, actually it was spray paint. I had an image made for a month or more and then changed it at the last minute. It married the themes for the album “Whatever Makes You Happy” perfectly. With reflections of war and relationships in the songs, I made an image of a hand shooting off it’s index finger like a missile. An idea of shooting off one’s options and making decisions. It was not only fitting for the band/music but also to the the national/world agenda and climate. I went to war that night with many cans of spray paint and the idiot mind to do two-hundred and fifty all in one massive sweep. Each one was hand-cut from cardboard and handmade stencil sprayed and rubber stamped. Inserts were cut and folded and glued. I made the great choice of spray painting in my basement…something I will never do again as it could have killed me. At the last mist of red spray a crack thunder shook the massive turn-of-the-century home and I bolted from the basement and out the front door to a down poor fit for Noah himself. I lept off the front porch and slid head first down the embankment and into the street-turned-river current. I was born again. The drug dealing squatters across the street were on their front steps, looking at the fire in my eyes and the red paint streaming from them and nose and mouth. I was on something higher than chemical substance. 18) How much influence does music have on your design? What kind of music do you listen to? What are your favorite bands? Music has always aided in carrying the background. It’s silly sometimes when we say things like, “This is my soundtrack”. But, it’s true. I’ve always gotten so much out of music. I gave up trying to play music years ago. That’s not my calling. However, it’s constantly played a role in my life significantly. I loved to spin my Mom’s records when I was four or five. It still boggles me how all of that sound is compressed in a circle of vinyl. I grew up on family Beatles sing-a-longs in the car and rockin’ out on my smurf guitar to “Live and Let Die” by Paul McCartney and Wings. That was my favorite song at age five. It has so much energy and I loved the James Bond movie of the same name. At one point when I was going through my awkward phase (when am I not?), I decided not to like The Beatles as much because my parents liked them. It was sad when I think about it now. I was also into all of the more novelty and fun stuff from the ’70s and ’80s when I was young. Things like hit television themes and film/broadway soundtracks and scores. And all of the fun cheese-pop stuff. I loved the storybooks with the narrator on record who told me when to turn the page. My brother and I loved to tape the Dr. Demento show every week. It was a late night DJ show that played a load of the weirdest songs about “Pencil Neck Geeks” and “Fish Heads”. It was the brand of humor we could find relation to. We also taped-off Saturday morning cartoon theme songs. Yes, we were the biggest dorks. Oh, Weird Al is amazing too! No wonder we were called fairies every day at that hick school until graduation. In the late eighties to early-to-mid nineties I went through all of the pop stuff. Whatever the radio got to the rural setting, that’s what we loved…though, by the time the radio waves got that far into the country, there was something new and better developing. I guess this is embarrassing stuff, but my first CD’s were Ace of Base and a best of by Bryan Adams. I redeemed myself with the third purchase of the soundtrack to “Ren & Stimpy”, which I still spin. In my last years of high school I got into Nirvana, Helmet and Tool. A lot more aggressive work, but stuff that had some interesting lyrics and great imagery/art. And Nirvana was basically more angsty Beatles anyway. College brought on more underground stuff and lots of the typical college radio stuff mixed with a bit of the mainstream. Then, the day after Christmas 1997 I bought Radiohead’s “OK Computer” on a whim. It had such a great impact on me and some close friends and led us to discover other music by artists like The Velvet Underground, Elliott Smith, Pavement and Jeff Buckley and then back to The Beatles again. Once my ears had opened completely, I began cultivating a lot of stuff that I missed out on from the shoe gaze movement to noise rock to indie and music spanning the past forty years or so. Of course I’m still at a constant catch-up. In the past five or six years I’ve really absorbed a lot of the singer-songwriters like Bruce Springsteen, Bob Dylan, Neil Young, Joni Mitchell, Paul Simon, Lou Reed, Brian Wilson, Neko Case, Leonard Cohen, David Bowie, Nick Drake, Tom Waits, Johnny Cash, M. Ward, Andrew Bird and Sufjan Stevens. Of late I’m into looking for more and more of the underground folkies like Bert Jansch and some others. I’m also in love with the sound of recordings from the ’50s and especially the ’60s. I love the psychedelic rock stuff from the time too. Records I’m fond of so far this year include: “Death Proof” Soundtrack, Bright Eyes, The National, The Shins, Of Montreal, Deerhunter and Arcade Fire. I’ve never been more anxious to watch the new crop of artists make music. It’s a really exciting time right now as it seems that there is a new-old spirit and heart again with music. The four that I’m really interested to follow are M. Ward, Neko Case, Arcade Fire and Conor Oberst. Of course with all the great stuff comes a TON of sonic dysentery on the opposite spectrum. 19) How much direction do you get from a client as to what they want or are you pretty much given free range? For the most part it’s free range. However, I love it when a client has an idea to pitch or something to build from. It’s always fun…but, it depends on the person too. However, I dislike being an assembler. One time a band had another illustrator and they just wanted me to lay it out and pay me crap for it. They were pretty particular about it. I didn’t take the job. I’d rather get paid crap for my complete involvement. I am easy to get along with, but I don’t want to put somebody else’s work together. If somebody comes to me they normally know ahead of time what I can do. Even still they can tend to get too specific or wish to mimic another design already made. At this point they should go else-where or simply hire the designer they are trying to rip-off. Musicians can be hard to work with sometimes because they think they know a lot about design…because they want their album to look like an old Peter Saville cover for Joy Division. It might fit, and look cool, but why not try to push things a bit more and make it your own…help re-invent or start something new? True, everything has been done and aped before and again. But, it’s so discouraging to see album art that lacks proper thought, soul and heart. Or, even more stuff that looks cool but is a total copy cat. Some people don’t know how to think of me though. Maybe because they don’t really know what they are going to get? Maybe I make them nervous? Some people can crank out the same template of stuff over and over. I’m not wired that way. But, I try to give them what i feel is an honest depiction of the solution and something that best represents them. Something that can grab attention across the room or internet browser. I don’t mind borrowing elements from the past, but I think it’s important to put your own blood into it. Otherwise you’re just picking noses. And after those boogers dry they’re awful hard to scrape from the bottom of the wagon. 20) Who would be your ideal client? This is a good question as I’m looking into doing some other things among the mix of the usual band poster or CD. I’m looking at contacting some book publishers. I’d love to finally get out some of the children book ideas I have in my head and on paper. I’d love to just write in general. I have a love of film, so I plan to look into that avenue. For sure DVD packaging with The Criterion Collection. I’d also like to make more illustrations for magazines and papers. These pay pretty good and I can crank the stuff out rather quickly. For the moment there is not enough hours in the day… Some types of music I’d like to put to package design before I pass away include: Gangster Rap, New Country and Polka. I don’t really like any of that music, but I think it would be fun to come up with something different for them. 21) How do you think you have influenced graphic design? I never really think about this much until people start talking and asking. I don’t think I’m anything too special and I feel that if I am, I’m still too young to be causing a rift in the waters. First thing is that I am a human being. I just happen to be a human that makes things. I won’t be oblivious to the fact that I know that I’ve got something I’m sitting on here. I’m not denying that.. I’m confident in that. But, I don’t feel it’s all quite said yet. I plan to always be doing my best work. If I get to the point where I don’t like my work, then why do it? My only concern is someday ending up in a nursing home, worthless and without use of my hands. Please shoot me before that comes. But, I guess I could just play art director at arts and crafts time. Back to the subject…I have people all the time tell me things and simply do things with my work and it is all really startling. Things like art history professors showing my work in lecture halls and publishers from Turkey, Germany, Spain and other parts of the world placing me next to some of my influences in books and publications. Design show curators are finding me and becoming involved with my work. I get messages on the phone and emails from art directors of every major design magazine. Students and industry peers contact me all the time. It’s all really strange to me. Since my first days here in Kansas City people have told me they look forward to seeing my work out in public and add it to their collection at home. This blows my mind more than anything. Just the fact that it moved them in a way to keep it. I know how it goes as I used to do this with concert posters. One of the most touching things I’ve seen was on the bottom of somebody’s band flier here. It said “DJG Design Just Kidding.com”. I have no idea who did it. But, it is really funny and I feel truly honored by it. And this Friday, as in a couple of days from right now, I am giving a big lecture in front of my former design instructors at Missouri State University. I am excited and scared to death all at once. It is all pretty wild. And I still work a crummy day job. 22) How do you feel about seeing other designers copying your style? Have you seen or experienced this for yourself (just curious)? People tell me all the time that they’ve noticed a change in Kansas City poster design since I came here over five years ago. I don’t see it much because I don’t get out much. I have seen a few people becoming more inventive by printing on paper stocks other than bright pink, yellow and green. I see a lot of graph paper printing and just over-all more inventiveness and creativeness for something so short-lived as a show poster…not only from here but all over. I don’t know if they got this from me or what. I highly doubt I’ve inspired that many people. Right now with technology and with screen printing and letterpress becoming more practical and trendy you can throw a wadded-up poster and hit a poster designer. What’s great is that anybody with initiative, a work ethic and love can do it and get their stuff up and out quickly. Especially in a small town like this. But, at the same time I feel it’s easy for people to just depend upon the content of what others are doing as opposed to really finding their own voice and the right reasons. Some just do it because it earns cool points. I’d love to say I’ve inspired someone…but, only in the sense of a similar inspiration like the one I had when I was twelve and younger to just simply make things with a naive mind and with a heart to shut myself in and find myself through whatever it was I was doing. Not to be an artist but to just enjoy the act of making things and putting your fingerprints on the world…if there is reaction then that’s great. It’s a blessing and most touching to impact somebody’s day with the silly things that I make in solitary in a dark and damp basement. Especially in today’s information age and with people so busy and non-stop. It means a lot when I can affect somebody’s daily life with something that was on my mind. Postscript That is all. I am a bit drained and need to shower. I feel most of this is written quite hastily, but it’s a very honest and immediate sort of haste. I trust it is what you are looking for. Please enjoy. Ask questions if you need to. I am always here. Thank You. -djg

My Experience with Anxiety and Depression [and How Supernatural and Thomas Sanders (Unknowingly) Helped] #BellLetsTalk

I wanted to do something completely out of my comfort zone; I wanted to make a video about it. But then I kind of got sick and lost my voice. So that option’s kind of out. And with only two days until the event there is no way I would be giving myself enough time to learn how to edit, so even with my voice now coming back, there still wouldn’t be enough time. So, maybe I’ll try to make a video for next year. So here we are. Back to my usual format: writing.  And that’s OK. I can probably better articulate my thoughts this way anyway.

So, where do I start? Death anxiety? Social anxiety? Generalised anxiety? Depression? I guess with the death anxiety? I view it as my longest anxiety, though I could have possibly had the social anxiety longer, it was the death anxiety that was more difficult to cope with. Why don’t I just split it up into four parts so this way I’m not going back and forth on which I had when. We can focus on the chronology of each individually.

DEATH ANXIETY

So this one arose, as you could image, as the result of a loved one passing away. My grandmother specifically, though I called her Nanny, and to make things easier on myself, that’s what I’ll continue to call her.

I was no stranger to death. My younger sister, my baby brother’s twin, died at nine days old. At the time, I was three.  I definitely knew my parents were sad and that our family would be different yet again (nine days ago we went from a family of four to a family of six, now we were down to five). I knew things were going to be different, but I don’t think I understood the gravity of the situation. I don’t think I knew how finite death actually was.

Seven years later, I was ten, and my cat had been put down. I did not know this at the time, and my mum managed to convince the vet into releasing the body. So my mum brought our dead cat home and told us that she found the cat dead in the basement. For years, I swore I saw the cat’s ghost around the spot where my mum claimed she died. Now, I understand why the cat was put down, her health was deteriorating. But at that time, there was a void. She was my childhood pet and she “suddenly” passed away. I remember being legitimately sick after her passing, not just grieving but cough and fever, that whole deal. But not much else. It was twelve years ago after all.

 Two years after my cat died, so did my Nanny. To this day we still don’t know the exact cause. My dad suspects some things, but we have no definitive answer on what was his mother’s cause of death. I think I took this death the hardest. She was my favourite grandparent, and she was the first of them to die. How was that fair? Again, it was ten years ago, I was twelve, I don’t remember specifics. But I do remember a few years later when the family went to see the film UP, and I just couldn’t enjoy it. You know that beginning? Carl and Ellie’s whole life story is told in like five minutes? Yeah, well, I was kind of triggered by that. I didn’t know that was a term, but in hindsight, I was definitely triggered. Ellie reminded me of Nanny, and I just couldn’t get happy after the movie ended.

I also remember the death anxiety coming up randomly in class in grade eight, and thinking life’s so short and fearing what would happen to me after I died. I’ve had panic attacks about that. My most recent one was a really bad one in 2014. But now I don’t let myself go that deep. I don’t let myself go down that rabbit hole. I take a deep breath, tell myself “we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it” and find something entertaining to distract me from my thoughts. And that’s been working well so far.

SOCIAL ANXIETY

OK, this one doesn’t really have an exact start date. I can’t pinpoint any one event. I’ve kind of just always had it. And I just shrugged it off as shyness and introversion. But it’s more than that. I am definitely shy and introverted, but I also have social anxiety. When I was formally diagnosed, my mum wasn’t remotely surprised about this one. The depression was a surprise but this one she always suspected.

If anything, university made it worse. I mean, it was always an issue, but being in an entirely different province where I literally knew absolutely no one.  That didn’t help. I couldn’t even stand the thought of going to orientation. And I assumed that was because of my extreme shyness, though now I know it’s my near-crippling social anxiety. Hindsight is 20/20 after all.

I think it was during this time that I became much more active on the internet. Tumblr specifically, I love this website. But I began bingeing more on shows and would only really leave my dorm to go to the meal hall or class. I was just so terrified of social interaction. And I still am. But now I’m taking baby steps towards meeting people. Right now, all I can do is talk to people online, but if people don’t rush me and let me do it when I’m ready, I’d be fine meeting people in a comfortable and safe public place.

This is the one I think I have to work on the most. I know where I want to be and don’t know entirely how to get there, but I am taking small steps. I’m even telling people I suffer from social anxiety to let them know I’m not just being a bitch but that I am actually struggling and terrified to make social connections for fear of rejection.

The other real problem with this anxiety, for me specifically, is that I come off as bitchy and standoffish. Maybe I have bitchy resting face? I don’t know. But that’s what my mum thinks anyway. Whether I seem bitchy or snobby, or whatever is just what you see on the outside. Inside my mind, down that deep rabbit hole of suck, I am freaking the fuck out. Apparently, I mask that panic by looking snobby, who knew? But I assure you, if I’m actually being a bitch, you’d know about it. I don’t really keep that side of me quiet. But just standing alone in a crowd or in a corner? Yeah, I’m probably not plotting some bithcy scheme. I’m most likely terrified and seeking sanctuary in the very place that is so often cruel to me: my mind.

Meeting people scares the crap out of me. It really does. But I yearn for those social relationships. I am human after all. But going out into the world and actually seeking out people with whom to form those relationships? I’m not quite there yet. For now, I’m focusing on making friends online, but also people who live near me, so when I am comfortable, I will be ready to take that next step and meet them.

GENERAL ANXIETY

This asshole. This one was definitely brought on by university life. Seriously, I don’t think this would have affected me to the degree which it has, had it not been for university.  In some ways, university is better than secondary school, in others, it is exponentially worse. Procrastination only exacerbates the anxiety monster, but it definitely is not the cause. Deadlines. Terrifying deadlines, the weight of an assignment, and the fear of failure – the intense fear of failure – is the cause.

This one was kind of brought on hand-in-hand with my depression. I mean, I still stressed about marks before, but this really hit me hard when my depression stepped onto the scene. So both this beast, and depression entered into my brain after an event which I just call “the Academic Fiasco”. It is not an event I am comfortable discussing not because I am ashamed or embarrassed (though I am a bit) but because I don’t feel entirely out of the woods yet. And until I the woods are safely behind me (in other words: after I graduate) I won’t really be elaborating upon it. So the Academic Fiasco is a story for next year’s Let’s Talk Day.

Anyway, after the Academic Fiasco, I did enter into a depression. For several months. And ever since then I was never truly able to shake it. And it would come in waves. Sometimes I would be fine and my usual self but often the depression got in the way. So after the actual ordeal of the Fiasco was over with, and the depression had more or less subsided, I was then left with this anxiety. This dread that surrounded my marks in academia and my potential future career after obtaining my degree. This feeling just wouldn’t go away. And in November 2016, my friend started to notice that I was acting differently. She’s been my friend going on seventeen years now (we’ll both be 23 later this year), so she’s known me most of my life. And she could tell, through the virtual world, several provinces away, and through text not video chat, that something wasn’t right. My parents didn’t even know. Apparently, I hide my depression well. But my friend instantly suspected depression as she’s had it in the past and was medicated for it. She told me to seek help. So I booked an appointment at the Counselling Centre on campus and had a Brief Initial Consultation (where they would listen to me for thirty minutes to decide if my issues were serious enough to be waitlisted for therapy). It was during this time that the therapist believed I had anxiety, the death anxiety for sure, but also general anxiety. She didn’t really think I had depression, but she was certain I had anxiety. She suggested I seriously consider medication.

The thought had occurred to me once or twice. But until my friend expressed concern I hadn’t really thought about medication in a while. So, when the appointment was done, I went to the Health Clinic on campus and booked an appointment for the following Tuesday (I saw the therapist on Saturday).  And then I went home with nothing but the knowledge that I wasn’t crazy for thinking I wasn’t OK. And that was a relief.

It was over the next few days that I started to watch Thomas Sanders videos. Now, I know he’s been on Vine since 2013, but I really had no idea who he was up until that point. I didn’t have Vine, so I didn’t know him from there. But his vines would sometimes make their way on to my dashboard on Tumblr, so I knew of him. I knew he was that funny, relatable guy that I would occasionally see on my dashboard which could always bring a smile to my face in seven seconds or less. But I really had no idea who he was beyond that. I don’t really remember how I stumbled upon his vines on YouTube, but I did. It was there where I found an hour-and-forty-minute-long compilation of his vines – it definitely wasn’t all his Vines, but it was a significant amount of them. From there I started watching his YouTube videos. And I quite literally watched them all (check my watch history. I’m not lying) and have re-watched them many times since. For quite some time Supernatural – an oddly dark show – was the only thing that could completely distract me from my mind. Other shows and films could only do so for a time, but Supernatural and Thomas Sanders have consistently kept me distracted from the darkest areas of my mind. And this guy, this king amongst men, this angel without wings, not only did he distract me, but he brought genuine joy to my life during a time when I thought that to be impossible. Thomas Sanders wasn’t just a distraction from that horrible rabbit hole in my brain, he was genuinely uplifting. And for that, I will forever be thankful.

That following Tuesday, the twenty-seventh of November 2016, I was officially diagnosed with anxiety and depression. Together, my doctor and I agreed that it was best if I start medication.

DEPRESSION

Oy, this thing. Depression, my greatest foe. Honestly, depression is King Douchebag. Depression is that demonic Hobgoblin thing that likes to run about inside my mind and cause mayhem wherever it goes. It is the king of a shit-tastic court. This royal dickhead of a mental disorder is the reason I felt worthless after that Fiasco, this monstrosity of an illness was the reason I felt hopeless and joyless. Depression was the dementor, and my life was wasting away.

As I said above, in November I went to the therapist on campus where the therapist believed me to have anxiety but wasn’t convinced that I had depression. My friend, conversely, was certain I had depression. So that following Tuesday, after four days of bingeing Supernatural again, and watching copious amounts of Thomas Sanders videos, I went to the Health Clinic, and I talked about how I felt, and the doctor made me fill out two questionnaires. I was told to evaluate my last two weeks, rate how I felt from 0-4, and tick a little yes/no box on the depression sheet. Then she evaluated me. And she determined that I, indeed, had both depression and anxiety.

We decided together that medical intervention was best. I had been definitely suffering on-and-off since 2015. So I got the prescription and went straight to the closest pharmacy to my apartment to get it filled because I was not waiting another day. I knew the meds would take several weeks to start taking effect, so I didn’t want to waste any time. Why feel crappy any longer right? We decided on Cipralex because it’s a brand I knew (two friends of mine have taken it) and she said it had low side-effects. Now, it’s January 2017, and I definitely feel better. The meds definitely help, and I am in no way afraid to admit that.

COPING

So, I’m taking SSRIs but overall, how am I coping? Much better actually. When attacks strike, I do some breathing techniques and some light meditation. I’m also learning to face the problem instead of just hoping it goes away. Distractions might seem like nothing more than avoiding the issue but, honestly, they help. They help get you outside of your mind. And believe you me, I know how vicious the mind can be. So distractions are nice, even if they aren’t permanent. The other big thing is having someone to talk to, whether that is a friend, a family member, a teammate, a therapist, or some random stranger willing to lend you their ear. It makes a world of difference. To know that you are not alone is another big one. On days like today, it’s easy to see that. Social media is abuzz about Bell Let’s Talk. But throughout the rest of the year, it might not seem that way. And please know that if you feel alone and you need someone to talk to, you can always talk to me. You can contact me in various ways on social media or by email. I’ve been through the bad, and now I’m starting to see the light, and you will too. Just don’t be afraid to ask for help.

I started coping by escaping into shows. That’s the magic of a Netflix account. You can just binge. It doesn’t judge (except on some devices where it asks if you’re still there. Like, geez, I am just let me binge in peace!). CraveTV and the wonder that is Letterkenny also helped. It’s the best Canadian show I’ve seen in years and can’t wait for the St. Paddy’s special and season three. But the show that’s helped me the most has been Supernatural. I found the show on Netflix (I heard of it before and actually tried watching the pilot once before, but Mary on the roof scared the crap out of me, so I stopped) and binged all ten seasons. This was during my summer slump. I wasn’t truly depressed then, but there was just a gloomy air about me. After watching all ten seasons in under two weeks, I looked for other shows. I started watching Stranger Things but stopped at episode four after experiencing a panic attack (which was unrelated to the show or my usual triggers), and I have not picked up the show since. After being talked out of panic by my dad over the phone, I was calm enough to hang up. But I didn’t feel entirely at peace, so I went back to re-watching Supernatural. It was after that attack that I also watched season eleven through less conventional means (because it wasn’t on Netflix yet). And I started to feel better again. For several months, I just re-binged the show, albeit at a slower pace than I first watched it. It was the one thing that made me feel good. My worries melted away when that show was on, and I was enthralled in the narrative.

The other thing that helped me cope was Thomas Sanders. As I mentioned above, in the days leading up to my diagnoses, I stumbled upon a compilation of his Vines, and I was hooked. I found he made YouTube videos and I watched them all. I got Snapchat just so I could see his snaps. I followed him on Instagram and Twitter and liked him on Facebook. Then I found out he has a Tumblr (@thatsthat24)!  And it was magical. My favourite site and my new favourite internet personality, together! So I follow him there too. But unlike the others, I get notifications when he posts to Tumblr, and seeing those notifications are the best part of my day. It’s always something positive, or funny, or relatable, and it’s always certain to bring a smile to my face. I know that Thomas Sanders is only human and that he’s not happy every second of every day (if he were, he would be a game show host), but I really appreciate that everything he puts online is positive. I have no idea what goes on in his life, what anxieties he might face, but if he reads this, I want to thank him for brightening my day and making it suck a little less.  Because right now, he’s the thing that makes me happiest and I hope we, his fans, make him just as happy.

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Holy! That was 3150-ish words (or 5 12pt Garamond single-spaced pages). If you stuck through it all, thank you. I hope #BellLetsTalk 2017 was everything you hoped it would be. And sorry for the length, but I needed to make sure I said everything. -KNC

P.S. I'm sitting here thinking about the family gossip that might ensue (because, before today, only my immediate family knew) and honestly, I don't care. I don't care if it makes them uncomfortable, because this isn't about them. My illness doesn't affect them, so I really don't care what they think or how they’ll react.

There’s a Referee in my bed

Pray God you can cope. I’ll stand outside.

 It’s raining outside. It was raining when my dad died. It was pouring. My dad died in Towson in a hospice center on a Friday night at 5:21 pm. I was supposed to be seeing my friends, Bo and Karli. But I had forgotten to text them. They understood of course and I told them with such ease…guys, my dad’s about to die. When my dad’s mother called my mom earlier that day from the center, I was in the basement. Completely alone with the lights off for two days. I spent most of my time there in silence that winter on the winter break from college. I never really told anyone how sick my father had become. And I was also unaware of what was happening to me. I had already fucked up my sleeping during my first semester of school. And this whole thing of wondering when and if he was going to die was really not helping. It became evident that I wouldn’t be leaving Baltimore to head back to Richmond anytime soon. I began to isolate myself more and would spend hours online googling “hospice”. I was frustrated that I wasn’t being given answers to my fears. It wasn’t until years later that I realized that google could never answer questions that I’ve had all my life. At some point you really do have to figure things out for yourself. Of course, we are all here. And there is empathy. But, in order to feel it and to give it, I think we have to meet ourselves in a mirror.

 This woman’s work. This woman’s work. Ooooo it’s hard on a man. Now his part is over. Now starts the craft of the father.

I developed an intense relationship with death at an extremely early age. I think it’s hard for most kids to wrap their heads around. The idea that yes, it ends. Everything, physically, will die. As the artist Juliana Huxtable says, “There are certain facts that cannot be disputed.” Flesh, skin, all that, it ends. Now what extends beyond that is another story. Stories. But death and I met when Aaliyah Haughton died. Cheesy, but Aaliyah is really important in the scope of me understanding why I believe I am here. I could go on about how my family would sit around in the living room with our next door neighbors singing I don’t think you’re ready for this thing, this thing, this thing, I don’t think you’re ready this thiiiiing like many other Black people were doing during that time. And my sister doing the rock the boat dance or trying to at least and I don’t even need to mention that dress at the end when the goddess is immersed in the water (peep FKA Twigs for the tribute) but obviously I’m bringing it up because duh. There will never be another. It was hot that Saturday. I was on the computer strolling the internet, something I just enjoyed doing looking at images of my favorite singers. I heard my mom say, “Baby, Aaliyah died.” I searched Aaliyah immediately and I was confused. Died? How? I thought to myself, how do you die? What does that mean? I asked my mom for an explanation over and over. We watched some videos and sang like always and the reality or the myth rather, had still not settled in for me. I was rattled. My mom explained to me the best she could, that everybody dies one day. We all live and then we die. My dad was a loud man. And he was also soft. He had dark dark brown skin and usually a smirk on his face. He loved Aaliyah. He loved her to death. I think I was so confused because I couldn’t find language for what was happening. For the first time that I can recall, I only had feelings. No words. Raw, gut feelings. My father’s silence weighed down on my chest. He was never silent. My heart pounded viciously through that night as my head ran laps around itself in bed. I laid still thinking…I don’t want to die. I drew a picture of Aaliyah. Because I knew she wouldn’t let me die. And as far as I was concerned, she was alive. And I knew we could live forever.

 My parents would take my brothers and I to see our grandparents in Virginia when we were little. One of the rooms in the back of the apartment used to be my great grandmother’s. My grandpa, her son, would say sometimes he could feel a tug, just a soft one, on the sheets at night. He said this was his mom. When my great grandma passed I was in 2nd grade. She was my mom’s grandma. I think I remember it being winter. My mom and her grandma were close but she had Alzheimer’s and it really affected her memory. My mom was on the phone with her best friend one time and she said that it was nice to visit grandma Emily but it’s just not the same anymore and it sucks when someone you love can’t really remember who you are. My mom had sort of already begun a process of letting go of grandma Emily’s body. It’s crazy that people can slip out of their own skin. Before we know it, we’re holding a container. And we’re feeling so much that we hold and squeeze the container, hoping that we’ll get to touch that being’s magic one last time. It’s really hard though because (crying so much right now oh my gosh) if you’ve ever touched a dying person right before they go you know that’s it’s like trying to win a game of tug of war that you know you’re going to lose but you decide to play because you have to and you don’t even think about it and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that. We traveled to North Carolina for her funeral. My parents met in a tiny town called Chadbourn in the state when they were 11 and 10. My dad lived there and my mom stayed with her grandma in the summer. She lived down the street from my father. They spent time together on a basketball court. During the morning of the service, I sat at a computer screen in the purple room of my father’s childhood home. I worked for hours on a painting on Microsoft paint (every 90’s art kid’s dream) for my great grandma’s casket. My right hand on the mouse detailing the stems of the flowers and my left hand wiping the snot and tears that wouldn’t stop coming. I cried for days and my mom offered words she had given before ever so gracefully. But I still could not fathom a life underground. I asked her…so everyone else just keeps living and walking around while you lay under the dirt? I buried my face into my hands for days. Eventually, I could move on to different thoughts but some days my mind would wander and tell me: I’m gonna die one day.

 While the other kids played during recess, I sat on a bench watching them. I could see my body laying under the wood chips while everyone slid down the slides. I was quickly developing a relationship with death. An obsession that would seep its way into my bones. A fixation with a word that would become my entire being.

 I know you gotta little life in you left. I know you got a lot of strength left. I know you gotta little life in you left. I know you got a lot of strength left.

 My siblings and I did karate as kids and my dad got us involved. It was a family affair. My younger brother hated it and I fell in love with it. It was fast paced like I love, but it required patience. I’ve always sort of been a sucker for things that happen over time, changes, length, and transformations. We practiced under a man named Arnold Mitchell. And his instructor was a hardass. We met him once and he called every child in the dojo ugly. Mr. Mitchell loved us so much. 13 years ago on the way to the dojo, my dad pulled over on 83. He wasn’t saying much but different symbols and lights were blinking in the car. He kept saying come on, come on. He was confused and kept looking down on his side. It was early January and I had just gone back to school after winter break. The car was warm, a little unusually warm. And he said Mal we need to get out. We were parked and he hopped out of the driver’s side, and ran around to mine. He flung open the door and grabbed me and we began to walk through the cold. Maybe 200 ft away from where we left the caravan. We had a blue caravan. The only car I really knew. I would spend the next 20 minutes having what I believe was my first outer body experience. At the age of 9, I watched my family’s minivan completely set on fire on a Tuesday night. The pickup truck that we sat in had no heat. It belonged to a stranger who picked us up. Watching the car set on fire was kind of like a movie. It was so dark outside that the car began to disappear. The window wasn’t big in the truck so really, it looked like the flames were moving across a screen. Stretching their arms fearlessly, and rolling over and over and over until it tucked my van in for the night and for forever. I remember later my dad being pissed about how the man was talking about the situation. How he was embarrassed, and mad that the man sort of made a joke of it in front of me. How nobody should speak that way in front of a child. I recall the man saying, “That was all she wrote”. And my dad saying nothing back. I remember how tight I was being held.  That night when I got home I realized that we could’ve died in our van. I found my baby sister crying in the middle of my room. She looked like me. Have you ever met yourself in someone else’s life? I went to sleep that night like normal somehow. For weeks I thought to myself….how am I going to die? When my older brother would go play in the neighborhood with bigger kids or when he went off to school, I would cry and stare out of our bedroom window. My mom would say it’s okay you’ll be able to go one day Mal. And I’d say, “But I am a big boy!”.  I find myself thinking that now. I am a big boy.

 I should be crying but I just can’t let it show. I should be hoping but I can’t stop thinking.  All the things we should’ve said that I never said. All the things we should’ve done that we never did. All the things we should’ve given but I didn’t. Oh darling. Make it go. Make it go away.

 The day that my dad died I was sort of waiting for bad news. When my mom asked me if I wanted to go see him again because the doctor said that they think this may be the last day, I said yea sure. I sort of meant yea why would you ask that? My mom has this way of trying to be as peaceful as she can when she’s really one of the most peaceful people I have ever met. She has had a tough life and I don’t know if I’ll ever know half of the things about it. She asks me for advice on how to navigate certain things sometimes with others but it’s funny because she always has what I believe is the best way of approaching things. When we all got to hospice that day we sat around the room talked and laughed and my mom told us how the nurses said that the day prior my dad had escaped and set off the bed alarm. He had crawled to the elevator and said he was going home. He was about 90 pounds. He was going home. He was going to come home. A Black man crawling home.

 My friends were in and out through the night, which was amazing to have the support. Around 5:15 that night when we looked at my dad, my family and I noticed that his breaths were getting shorter and shorter and the gasps for air were not as quick and heavy any more. His head began to tilt more to one side and lay back some.  We surrounded the bed and my dad’s mom was next to me as we all held hands awaiting the inevitable end of this journey through hospital visits, broken oxygen tanks, and vending machine snacks. There was one more breath. One last give. His lips would part one last time as my grandfather called for the nurse. She arrived to take his pulse. By this point we are gazing at each other, maybe hoping that this is not it. That somehow he just needed a break.  She placed her finger on his neck as she looked down at the foot of his bed and nodded and said, “He’s gone.”

What was just as hard, but maybe harder than watching his life end was being the one to call my older sister to tell her that our dad had died and that I’d see her in a few days. When my friend Sam’s dad died, I called to tell our friend Jon. The sound that fills the space after the word died…is the sound that understands me the most.

 The rest of that evening and the days that would follow were so emotional that some parts get lost in translation and lost in the eating of the food gifted to us, lost in the ravens games, lost in the walks with our new puppy, lost in watching the sheets move on the hospital bed while I sat on the loft imagining his body in between them. Moving so slowly and so quietly. With urgency for a new day. My father lived up until the very last second. The death of my dad left me in shambles. The first year after his death was quite possibly the most heart breaking time of my life. One year earlier, a close friend and running partner who I spent the majority of the end of high school with lost his father. After I lost my dad, I started to try to think about what was going to happen with my degree and when I would return to Richmond. I didn’t know my new friends well. And now I felt like an alien in my own home. So I went back a month late and immediately found myself in corners on the 2nd floor of Johnson hall stuck in between two walls, sitting under a public phone. In the back of a large studio room at 2 in the morning with the lights off on Bowe Street. It took me a month of being in school to realize that coming back was the wrong decision. A year passed and within that time a close friend’s father committed suicide back home and when I made the call to tell another friend about it, he answered by saying that his mom was in ICU. She died two months later. I went to three funerals that year and the week after the last one, three of my friends and I were on a road trip to Cary, North Carolina and ended up in a car accident before reaching our destination. We all lived and we looked around and thought to ourselves…how is this real? Us? Everyone in the car had lost his or her father. Three of us within 21 months of each other. One year and 8 months later, my cousin would be killed in a car collision in Carolina. He was my dad’s best friend. The day of his death is the same day as one of my friend’s father’s deaths. Large trucks killed both of them. I couldn’t process or think or do anything that year that mattered to me. After my cousin passed, I was convinced that something was wrong with me. At the start of the next year I sort of looked back. I called my mom to ask her how she was doing on the day of her husband’s death two years after that night. She said she was doing a lot better than the year before. She said grief will eat you up if you let it. Grief will kill you. It’ll take over your whole life but you can’t let it. You know you can’t let it. You have to choose at some point how you’re going to go about the rest of your life. She said you can’t let one moment in time take who you are and crush you. You have to make a choice to live this life. My mom’s words pierced me. Because although there was another loss in the following year, I looked back and realized what happened. There was a day in January of 2014 when I said I needed to make a change. I needed to do something before I did nothing. Before I died. So I did and I started to figure out how I wanted to live.

 I had never been out of the country before. I really wanted to go somewhere to see a new place and to sort of have an experience that I had never had. I found round trip flights to Nairobi that I could afford and I asked my little brother if I should get them and he said duh you could die tomorrow. So I got them. And I went. And I had an experience. Sometimes it was awful. And other times it was…just…any words would underscore what happened to me consciousness. I came back to Virginia and realized how much I was missing out. I forgot about myself. I let go of who I was for so long. While I was in Nairobi, I went out. I had so much fun I just…I got to breathe. I wasn’t worried. I wasn’t thinking about dying and when I was going to die or how or who would die next. I was meeting new people every day. I was laughing a lot and crying out of frustration with the racial politics that I was experiencing for the first time. But I wasn’t settled and I wasn’t stuck. I knew Nairobi was short and temporary but I knew I was going back. During the end of my time there I met a boy named Emmanuel. He was deaf and an excellent reader. He is such a beautiful boy. I told him I would be back. Emmanuel was hard headed and I taught him how to count to 300. We had a great time together and I almost extended my flights to be with him for longer. I sort of regret not doing it now. But I’m going back. Emmanuel helped me see a purpose and to have meaning for living each day while I was there. I’m going to go see my friends, I’m going to go out and dance and have so much fun I think. I’m going to go speak and have important, different, conversations that don’t operate on a crazy time system like we do here. I wonder what it’s going to be like. Now that I am living here. Before I went there, I was a zombie here. I attempted a marathon a few months after I returned from Nairobi. I didn’t finish but the bulk of the race that I ran was so well ran. At 18 miles, I had fell off of the pace significantly, but I was still in the top 10 of the Baltimore marathon. I never thought I’d try the marathon. But I had to. After you get so close to death, you sort of realize that time is on your side. And yes, there is no rush, but there is an urgency to see what your capacity is. To see if you can expand your capacity. I wanted to work through things that I was still dealing with after these deaths. So I wanted to run to see if it was possible to run outside of my body. In hopes of reaching another plane of existence. In hopes of connecting with whatever memories I had of those people whose bodies we had lost. I was hoping that their memories would lift me to a different space. Not heaven. But a space where I didn’t have to be afraid of being alive.  A place where I could be.

 Give me these moments. Give them back to me. Give me that little kiss. Give me your, give me your hand baby. Give me your pretty hands.

 The last four years have been so different than I would have ever predicted. I have this piece of paper on a wall in my room. It says what are you doing here and why? I’ve been thinking a lot about why recently. Why am I alive? I’ve spent years now hearing stories of friends and family both far and near. People like me. People that I confide in. Some young, some older, but all of them are living. From my lens, I look at them and I see these beings in the world. Traveling through time, trying to unravel experience in order to understand themselves, each other and the world around them. It’s tragic the amount of young people that I know who have experienced loss on such a grand scale. And it’s been so very beautiful to watch them emerge months and years later as their new selves. People who found their worth. Who chose to make a decision one day to not live in fear of what the rest of their life could possibly be. It isn’t that I admire these people because they have figured something out or because they’re masters of grieving or something else that’s calculated. I fell in love with so many peoples’ stories of death over these last four years because I saw vulnerable people who trusted in themselves. Decided that they wanted to know themselves on a more intimate level. Decided that grief could not possibly be what defined their existence. And instead of hoping that one day they would figure it out, they took a bolder approach and said I will figure this out and until then I am going to be. By being your presence is felt. Your existence, acknowledged. I wish I could thank every person who I know who has lost. And yes, I do realize that I would just be thanking everyone that I’ve ever met. But I think that living is a gift enough. We deserve to live. For ourselves and for each other.

 A year ago someone tried to kill me. I was sleeping on my stomach in my room on the second story of my house in Richmond, Virginia. It was January and I was exhausted. I was sick and wasn’t really getting better. I wasn’t able to nurse my body to health and I went to sleep thinking that the small infection I had was probably growing. In the middle of the night I heard my door creek and a shuffle across the floor. I turned over but stayed asleep, pressed to my sheets. Their breath was getting louder on my neck and then their legs straddled my back. I tried to move but didn’t want to out of fear of being killed. I lifted my head and as their hand slipped across my mouth I yelled the loudest scream that could leave my body. Hoping my roommates would hear me and come to find me. I was having a night terror. One where I was dying of an illness just like my father. Why so paranoid, Malcolm? My roommates asked in the morning if anyone heard that scream last night. I couldn’t even remember if it was real. It was. And it was me. Yelling for help. Yelling at myself. Yelling for myself. Yelling for my life.

 I knew immediately what happened. It’s more than just being afraid of being sick. It’s having to face the fact that someone you love, in this case, your own flesh and blood, your father, never spoke to you about who you are. It is the realization that your queerness was kept inside of an internalized void. Counting down the minutes, waiting to release itself when it finally had space. It’s facing the queer phobic upbringing placed upon you by the Black man who told you that you were his son. His son. It’s loving the man that changed himself for your brother but still fearing yourself so much that you projected your fears into his body. It’s hoping that you won’t die before you get to explain to him how sad some things were to hear and to see. It’s the longing to speak, to share, and to be whole and one with yourself before you meet him again. It’s knowing that there were so many moments when you felt like you didn’t belong. It’s knowing that this is your life and your life only. And that only you can be responsible for what becomes of it.

 Maybe love is just that. Maybe you experience it during the final holding of a dying person's hand and in the months and years after is when you are lost in its wake. But often this wake is described as death. Maybe love is knowing that despite someone's flaws and wrong doings, you are still willing to believe in who they are. And willing to face the reality that people are complex humans. And that our relationships with one another are so very complicated and always will be. And maybe love is accepting the fact that you could potentially be crushed by pain. Maybe love is knowing that the game of tug of war is not a battle but rather, an indescribable experience with yourself where death is the referee and not the opponent. An experience that you must be willing to completely lose yourself in if you ever wish to revel in it. Maybe love is being okay with the fact that you will spend the rest of your life feeling through the different emotions of your relationship with a person whose body you lost. And becoming more confident in knowing that the memories, stories, and thoughts of a person can yield their immortality. 

 Love is an absolute truth and we are all concerned with it. That is not debatable. Love and death are the roots of everything in and on the earth. At the age of 18, death knew me better than I knew myself. It saw me as a vulnerable child who was confused as to why death always seemed to be in my bedroom. A boy who was searching to find an answer to his only question: Why are we alive if we are going to die? 

 I recently walked for three hours to my first home. The sun was setting when I arrived. And when I made the right turn onto Streamway Court I looked out and around. The sky was bright orange and the head stones stood tall. Smiling and warm in this fiery glow. I grew up in a house surrounded by a cemetery. And I am just now realizing what my life was supposed to be. That this was the plan all along. In that house was where I found out Aaliyah died. In that house was where I found out my great grandmother died. So when death came back 4 years ago to ask me if I was ready to be completely lost, completely confused, completely depleted, and completely burned in a fire...I deferred. Instead, I slept for a year. And a year later I woke up from a slumber and was finally ready to accept an offer that death had placed on the table between us when I was a boy. An offer to open my arms. To take a deep breath. To take one last swallow of my own being before I would burn. Death held out a match between its fingers and with all my being I told it to set me on fire. I told it to watch my insides burn. 

 I miss my dad's body more than anything. But it's nice to know that time is no longer an issue. Being alive and living are not the same. We are alive so that we can choose to live. Being alive in the world is difficult. But living is a different experience. If I am going to live, then I'll completely lose myself. I made this choice to set myself on fire. When I dream, I am being smothered in my sleep. Suffocated. No oxygen reaching my brain. No thinking. No planning. Just feeling. My room is getting hotter and everyday, the temperature in here is rising. Come lay with me. I am dying in here. I am burning. And I am so so madly in love. Thank you mom and dad. 

For you. (Pt. 2)

I didn’t. It was awkward but at the same time I was happy to have you in my class for the first time since 9th grade. I’m pretty sure I ended up moving a couple weeks later or so. I remember after i moved we got In contact again and caught up. Can’t remember if we started dating or not that time. If we did. It wasn’t long. I ended up moving out of state. You ended up dating someone from here. We did our own thing for months. I remember around Christmas I ended up moving back home, and I remember we started talking again. You ended up breaking up with your girlfriend. We started dating once again lol. Remember that time when we were planning on moving to Florida together? Lmao we didn’t have a clue on what we were doing. We were still so young. 18-19 years old. Eventually that idea died. Along with or relationship once again. I ended up moving back out of state for over a year. You did your thing. I came back home destroyed over the relationship I was just in. A few months later or so you borrowed your moms car to come get me so we could hang out and catch up. It was like we never were apart. We always picked up where we left off. It was never awkward. You were always my best friend even if we weren’t dating. I remember listening to music, and recording you singing “animals” my Maroon 5. Life was finally feeling good for me for the first time in forever. I think that night we went to the Falls and it started pouring rain and we were under that bridge for a while. Just talking and joking around. We started dating again. But you were different, you were very sad. I wanted to be there for you. I remember sitting in your garage in kenmore with your mom and the things you said scared me. You wanted to die. I honestly was afraid to lose you. I was really afraid if something was going to happen. I’m not sure if we broke up again but I think we did, but I remember eventually meeting your grandparents and they loved me from the first second they met me, and I loved them! They were always so nice and welcoming and I felt like part of the family when I was around. You and I had so many memories there. Swimming In the pool, yelling at you for getting my hair wet, jumping in the trampoline. Laying on the trampoline looking at the stars. Laying there watching movies, til we both fell asleep cuddled up on the couch. I remember one night you were so sad you actually cried in front of me. I never seen that side of you. I just wanted to comfort you. I’m not sure how long after, but I remember sitting on my porch one day and for some reason you were with your ex gf at Tim hortons and she had your phone and sent me a long text as you saying you were breaking up with me. I was so confused and so hurt. Didn’t see it coming. But later that day you and I met up and talked and shit worked out. Although I still had some fears and confusion going on. A few days later or so i believe I was drinking a couple of my dads beers and told you to come pick me up so we could hang out and we went to the falls. We went up on the observation deck and we watched the fireworks. Something came over me, maybe it had something to do with the beer, giving me some courage to say to you that I wanted to finally have sex. You were shocked lol I was shocked. We left, and I snuck you into my house. We laid there for a while. I was nervous as fuck because it was my first time. You made me feel comfortable though. You were nervous yourself even shaking. We just laughed and let it happen. I was SO happy that you’re the one I lost it to. You were my person. No matter what. It was a special moment for me for sure. We laid there afterwards cuddling and I couldn’t believe what just happened. Remember around that time we were trying to get pregnant? Lol we tried a few times.So young and naive we were. Remember the 4th of July party at your Nonnas place. That day was very fun, I remember dancing with your sister, drunk as hell not giving a fuck lol you’d never seen me dance sober. Your sister was also very drunk. I remember it got dark and we were all on the trampoline I literally couldnt even jump let alone walk on the trampoline without falling over, and then the cops showed up and we started freaking out. We ran inside, into the bathroom and your sister hid her beer can in the bathroom cabinet lmao. Afterwards you went to bring me home, and I threw up in the front yard. Ill never forget that night. Remember when we went to the Florida Georgia line concert literally last minute? We had to drive all the way out past where the concert was to buy tickets, when the concert had already started. We got there in the middle if not cose to the end of it, but we still made the best out of it. It was the first time I was ever sober at a concert lol. About a month later we went to the luke bryan concert with Kelsey and met up with some people. We pregamed and then went into the concert where we just kept drinking, making memories having a good time.Then the one girl we were with, her boyfriend started talking to other girls and that made drunk me mad as hell so I guess i started hitting you saying you better not ever do that shit to me lol. Im still sorry for that by the way. That was still one of the best concerts I’ve been too. On the way back I had to pee so bad I was crying so I made you pull over so i could pee. Then on the way home I wanted cheeseburgers (Like i always do when I drink) so we stopped at Mcdonalds with Kelsey and drunk me said how I wanted to go in your basement (meaning have sex) lmao. Well that didnt end up happening that night, but I did end up staying the night. 

We once again ended up breaking up like a month later. I started dating someone new eventually, and you got back with your ex and moved out of town with her. We did our own thing for months. Months pass, October-August. It was the end of August when we got back in contact, you moved back home because you guys broke up. I was single. we went down to the harbor and talked and played on the playground in the pitch darkness of the night. We were just friends at that point, but I was happy to just be hanging out with you. Well a couple weeks later, I was at work, standing there just clocked out, when I opened facebook and saw that you announced you were having a baby girl with your ex. I was so shocked, if you saw my face it probably turned white. I couldnt believe it. I texted you asking how long you knew about this because you mentioned she was due in November, and it was already into September at this point. I just didnt understand, my heart was crushed. I thought i’d lose you forever. Things were about to change big time and I didnt know what to do. You were my everything and I was sure it was the end. You ended up getting back together with her. We stopped talking til a few months later, the baby was born and somehow we started talking, you were still with her but you told me you thought she was cheating on you. So me being the detective I am, sure enough found that she had that dating profile, and was claiming she was a single mother, when you guys were still together, and living together. I was so mad, for you. How the hell is someone going to do something like that? Well things ended with you guys, and we ended up back together. No matter what we always found our way back to eachother. Yes we did break up alot. But it was always for stupid reasons. I remember meeting your baby for the first time, and holding her and it did kind of make me sad, thinking “Wow, this could have been our baby” it really did suck knowing that it couldnt happen for us, but did for you and her. Thats all I ever wanted, was to start a family with you. 

We ended up breaking up, for another few months and dated other people. We got back together in June, which didnt last long. Omg its so crazy to think about all the times we broke up and what not. I can see why people talked alot of shit, but we didn’t care because we loved eachother.  Time went by almost a whole year, I moved out of my house in April and by May we were talking again and got back together. This was the last time we were together. We swore that was gonna be our time. That this was it, we were going to stay together and never break up again. We were having really good time, I met some of your new friends, and your cousin. We hung out with them a few times, we went to Canal Fest, We went to Kenmore Days, we did your little Niagara Falls dates, went to the outer harbor like old days, things just felt so right. I was so happy, and still in love with you. I remember the one night after drinking and your friends place, we went back to my place, and even though I had it in my mind, I was too nervous to bring it up, that I wanted to have sex, until you asked. It was like our first time all over again, I felt so nervous. But it was just as special as the first time. Laying there after, cuddled up, even though it was hot as fuck in my room, was one of my favorite feelings. It just felt so right. That weekend we went to the beach, the same one we went to with your family in the summer of 9th grade. I loved going there with you. That place will always hold that special memory. I took so many pictures and videos of you, and us. I still have them all. Weeks past, I decided to move out of my roommates house and move back home. You helped me move all my stuff back home, and later that night we went out to eat with your cousin. Life was going good, I was happy.. Until on the way home, I seen your ex’s name pop up on your car radio. My heart sunk, but I played it off like I didnt see it. We got to my house, I gave you the last kiss that we ever had. I got in my house and broke down. Why? We were so happy and finally in a great place with eachother. I thought to myself this is just a really bad dream. But it wasn’t. You said it was nothing, but I couldn’t belive it. I didn’t see a reason for you to still be talking to her. So we broke up. A couple months go by, and  I didnt get my period, and I thought I was pregnant. I kept getting faint lines on tests, even though by that point, they would’ve been coming up dark. But I read all this stuff online. That is could happen to some people where they have faint lines their whole pregnancy, or they never get a positive test when they are in fact pregnant. So I believed I was, I kept taking more and more tests, I was even starting to look pregnant. I told you I was, and I was scared. I couldnt talk to you. I didnt want to go to the dr because I went there years prior telling her I thought i was pregnant and I wasnt, so i didnt wanna look crazy again. So i kept it to myself, my stomach kept getting bigger, no period, had all the symptoms. I still have pictures, and Im sure I still have tests hidden somewhere. I didnt know what to do our expect. I was like “Am I really gonna have a baby in March?” Well March comes, and surely enough I wasnt pregnant. I went through a phantom/hysterical pregnancy. I was in a really dark place after that. What I went through was not easy. Its a real thing. A month or two past and I heard from my coworker who also works a 2nd job at your moms work, that she knew your mom and your mom asked about me and if i really had a baby. So I texted your mom later that day and explained everything. I messaged you the next day to talk. I explained everything, and you were understanding, I think. It was almost a year at that point that I seen you, and I really wanted to meet up and talk about it in person. But you were dating someone at this time. You told me that we could be friends, and talk to eachother, which I was happy about. But there were times I told you I love you and how I missed you, and even though you were dating someone, and I knew that.. something felt off. I knew something was up. Because in the past if we were talking, and you were dating someone else you would come back to me. As bad as that sounds. I said to myself why do I feel like this girl is gonna end up pregnant in the next couple months... Well funny enough, the next night im at work and I open twitter, and I seen you announced that you guys were having a baby. My heart dropped more than it did the first time. I was having a full blown anxiety attack while trying to work. It was a mix of emotions from what I had just went thru, to wondering why and how did you let that happen. It all made sense though to why you were acting off. I left you alone. But I was still hurt and upset over the news. People from our highschool made tweets and shit and me being hurt, decided to make a post myself. You weren’t too happy about that. I do apoligize for writing it. But you have to see it from my point of view. I want to be happy for you, but I cant. Because we were never supposed to be over. You are the love of my life. My highschool sweetheart. I wanted to marry you. I still do. And it sucks to know that it will most likely never happen. I’ve been single for a year and like 2 months now since we broke up. I haven’t had any interest in talking to someone knew. A couple months ago, I did try to talk to people, because I have no one to talk to in general, I tried to find connecitons with people, but I literally can’t stop thinking about you. I can’t stop holding on to hope. There is no one else I want but you. And it breaks my heart. I still cry for you. I still think about you, everyday. This post is obviously very very long. And if you took the time to read all of it, thank you. Even though I know nothing is going to come out of this I had to let it all out. The other night literally every single memory I had with you came rushing back, and I had to write it all out. We have had soooo many good times, and bad. But the good outweighs the bad. I truly think we were meant to be together. Maybe some day we will cross paths again. I’ve been writing for hours, and my eyes hurt, my vision is blurry. I just want to say I love you Anthony Jaskowiak, and I always will. 

9/13/19

Hello World! It’s been a long ass time, and for that I’m sorry. I fell behind on writing for a few days and then I just kept getting busy so this got put on the back burner, but I’m back! Here’s a (somewhat) brief synopsis of every day since I wrote last...

8/30 - Went over to Parker’s house and drank for the first time! It was ok. His roommate got supper drunk which was amusing. I stayed the night. 

8/31 - There was a home game (1st one of the season) and Parker went to that while I went back to my dorm and listened to the game. I ended up feeling kinda sick and stuff, so I took a nap in the middle of the game lmao. Later Parker’s dad took us out to supper and I had a massive pretzel. Later that night I asked parker to go get me some allergy meds and some ice cream, which he kindly supplied. I then passed out for 12 hrs!

9/1 - Mostly just hung out in my dorm and did a little bit of homework. I called all of my parents and told them about my first week of classes. It was nice to tell them about it.

9/2 - It was labor day so I didn’t have anything to do, and my roommate was still out for the weekend. I did more drawing homework, cleaned up a lil, and went on a nice walk around campus with Parker. I read him some letters I had written for him and we talked a bit about marriage and shit. I gave him a gold turtle pin as a token of my love or whatever. We crossed paths with a fat raccoon and a kid showed us a  ~ magic trick ~ where he split a stick using his forehead. College is wack. All in all a good day. 

9/3,4,5 - I can’t remember much from these days. Mostly just doing class work and shit. I had planned to go home the coming weekend so I was trying to get as much done as possible before I went. I spent a shit ton of time in the studio on Wednesday night and had a great time with the buses (I did not have a great time). I hoped on a bus thinking that it would take me to one of two places close to my dorm, and I’d just get off at whichever stop came first. Neither of them did. I rode the whole route for like 30 min and got off one stop from where I had originally gotten on. I hadn’t eaten supper yet, and it was 9:50. The dining halls close at 10, and I was 10min away from my dorm. I managed to stop by a little shop and get a sandwich 5 min before they closed, and I angrily walked my way home. I sat in the common room, ate my sandwich, and then promptly returned to my room and fell asleep after a shitty 16hr day. Thursday I just spent more time in the studio getting shit done.

9/6 - I didn’t have class until noon so I spent my morning packing and getting laundry done before I went home for the weekend. I tried to get the washers to work but they wouldn’t take cash or debit, so I had to download an app, put a minimum of $10 worth of credits into it, and THEN I could start my laundry. I was going to eat breakfast while my clothes were being washed, but the dining hall closed right when I got there, and I almost had the gate shut on my head. Instead, I went to my room, read the book Parker let me borrow, and had some granola bars. When my laundry was done I went to put it in the dryers, only for the dryers to not fucking work. I drug my still wet clothes up 4 flights of stairs and got to let everything air dry in my room. I went to class, came back, folded as much as I could, ate some shitty dining hall food, folded the rest of my clothes, got my bags, found my car, and headed out. On my way back home I happened across a dinky little town called Stanhope that apparently has ‘watermelon days’ every year in July. I took a bit of a scenic route compared to the interstate and I greatly enjoyed my tiny bit of isolation. I made it home just before 4, talked to my dad for a bit, refueled my car, got groceries, and made it back in time for some pork burgers for supper! Afterwards Chance and I talked about movies and shit for a long as time before we finally picked out a movie for family movie night. We ended up watching Heathers, and after that we all went to bed.

9/7 - The next morning my dad got the whole house donuts, and he and I went to the farmers market to pick up eggs and banana bread. Upon returning home he gave me a whole bunch of art stuff for me to use, and I packed it all into a little leather messenger bag he gave me. So now I have an art bag! I worked briefly on some of my studio homework, and just hung out at home. I watched netflix briefly and cuddled with my cat for a bit, which was nice. A little before 4 my dad and stepmom left for a concert, leaving me alone in the house. At 4 I headed over to my mom’s and talked about college with my stepdad for a bit. Then my mom came down from taking a shower and we talked further about college stuff. After that we went to supper with my grandparent’s in a nearby town. When we returned home I got to pop open my senior yearbook that my mom had picked up for me. It mentioned some of my big accomplishments of the year, and it felt really nice to be recognized for the hard work I did. When I was done I headed to bed.

9/8 - On Sunday morning my family went to our town’s local flight breakfast at the little airport just outside of town. Idk what it is about mass produced pancakes on a supper old griddle, but they SLAP. I got to see some kids I graduated with and some coworkers too. After breakfast I made energy bites for a while, and around mid-afternoon we went to my grandparent’s house. My grandma had made me scotcharoos and rice krispie treats which was really sweet. We got to check out a room in the basement that my grandparents had redone, and it looks pretty good! We also got to look at some old pictures my grandma was going through. After that we all returned upstairs to watch NASCAR and talk about everything under the sun. When suppertime was rolling around, we returned home so my mom could get started on the spaghetti. After supper was done and stuff was being cleaned up, I packed my stuff up and got ready for the 2hr drive back. I listened to the Heathers musical soundtrack and now I can’t stop listening to it. Whoops. When I got back I started the 2 block ‘trek’ back to my room with 2 bags and a heavy laundry basket full of snacks because I ain’t no bitch who takes two trips. I should’ve taken two trips. I had to take a break 3 times before I got to my room. It’s important to note that while I was walking down the hall to my room a guy stopped me and told me to vote for him as treasurer and another guy for hall president (which I did). As I finally made it into my room and set down all of my shit, I realized I couldn’t really move my arms. I ended up asking Parker if he could come help me unpack, which he kindly did, and I repaid him with some energy bites. We sat and talked a little bit about our weekends and the coming weekend, and then we parted ways and went to bed.

9/9 - Waking up for class was a bitch but class was alright when I got there. I didn’t do much other than attempt to catch up on the homework I didn’t do over the weekend for my studio.

9/10 - Tuesday was pretty ehh. I wore a super cute outfit and got complimented on it by a lot of people which was really nice. I would’ve had a supper shitty day without it, and I truly appreciated it. I was freaking out a lil all day because I hadn’t completed a drawing yet that was due the next day, so I spent a few hours working on that. I went to my studio lecture and had a small panic attack and a bit of an identity crisis. I also thought heavily about if I’m actually capable, worthy, and skilled enough to be and do what I want to be. That was fun. I was finally able to calm myself down enough to go eat quick, finish up my drawings, and then go visit Parker. It was really nice to see him again and it really helped just being with him for a lil bit. I returned to my dorm, showered, and went to bed.

9/11 - It was pretty rainy and gross all day, but I luckily missed most of the rain and stuff. My studio took a bit of a toll on me mentally. I guess I hadn’t realized just how stressed I was and that I really wasn’t giving myself a break. For the past week I had been stuck on a ‘if I don’t stop working I’ll die’ kind of mindset. I broke down a little in class which was great. It doesn’t help that it’s my period week either. It was basically just my eyes constantly dripping tears and me being unable to stop it without going somewhere to cry for a bit (which wasn’t an option). This carried on until like the last 10 minutes of my next class (so 1.5 hrs of crying). After class I went to lunch, went back to my dorm to do homework, and went to the College of Design to work on a sketch for like an hour. I couldn’t focus so I said fuck it, went and got myself some half priced sushi from hyvee + some other little things, returned to my dorm, and watched Natural Born Killers. I honestly had a really nice night just sitting for a bit and relaxing briefly. When the movie was over I showered and went to bed.

9/12 - On Thursday I had a plan for the whole day + Friday. I was determined to get everything on my list started at the time I had listed, and finnish everything around the time I wanted to be done with it. I got up and got breakfast at 8:30, had class at 9, lunch at 11, did math homework at 11:30, went to class at noon, did more homework in the CoD, worked on a sketch there, went to my lecture at 3:20, and had a meeting at 4:30. My meeting got over at like 4:50, and I booked it back to my dorm as I could see a storm coming and I didn’t have a rain coat or umbrella. I made it back to my dorm shortly after it had started sprinkling, and had 2 min to spare before the heavens opened up and it POURED. I took a lil shower so I could keep on track with my schedule without getting off track.I went to supper at 6ish, left for the CoD at 6:30, and made it there a little before 7! I had snacks packed for when I would inevitably get hungry, and was fully prepared to finish my first sketchbook assignment. I left the CoD at like 9:30 and returned to my dorm at 10ish. I had another snack and started a book my dad had given me before I went to bed.

9/13 - Today I attempted to wake up at 6:30. This did not work, and so I slept in until 7. I didn’t have a class until noon, but I wanted to spend the morning in the studio. I went to breakfast with a former classmate, and then got to the CoD just after 8am. I spent from 8-12:20 working on sketches and taking little breaks every hour or so. I received an email at like 10am from my math prof. telling us class was canceled, which was fucking stellar. At around 12:50 I met up with my dad to go out and eat sushi. I had a pretty good time talking with him and the food was spectacular as always. After that we took a brief trip to the Earl May across the street before he dropped me off at my dorm. I had hoped to get back to work on studio stuff, but I decided not to since I had already done that all morning. I instead went to the Club Fest thing held in a building near me and I signed up to hear more about a bunch of clubs such as birding, film making, theatre, and even fencing! I’m excited to join a club and actually meet people. After that I went back to my dorm to grab some cash so I could then return to that same building and do a pottery painting workshop! It was Stranger Things themed, and I got to paint a mug with some cute lil shapes on it. I’ll have to wait until next week to see what the finished product looks like, but I’m excited. While I was painting I got to talk to a couple of girls next to me who seemed cool. We didn’t exchange info so I’ll probs sadly never see them again. Oh well. After painting I returned to my dorm again and read a couple books on the outside steps leading into the building. When I felt like I had had enough, I went to supper and had some cereal. I came back to my dorm and listened to music for a little bit and sang to myself and just did fun weird shit that I can’t do when someone else is here. I then showered, and started writing this big ass post! I’ve currently been writing for like 2 hrs, but It’s so worth it. It feels really nice to finally have this crossed off my to do list and to just write about stuff. I really do enjoy writing, and I think I’ve been needing this. I’m kinda figuring out how to balance work with play in a healthy way that works for me, and I think I’ve partially gotten the hang of it. I’m hoping to finish most, if not all of my homework sometime on Sunday so I can give myself time to relax tomorrow. I’m so ready to let loose a little and have some fun. I think everyone else is too lol. It’s like 11:52pm and it seems like everyone in my dorm is still up and doin shit. It’s fine with me though. I’m ready for a batshit crazy gameday. I’ll likely catch y’all up to speed on Sunday. Until then, Bye for now!

Baby Food, Bassinets and Talk of Salvation: Inside an Evangelical Pregnancy Center

New Post has been published on https://healthy4lives.com/baby-food-bassinets-and-talk-of-salvation-inside-an-evangelical-pregnancy-center/

Baby Food, Bassinets and Talk of Salvation: Inside an Evangelical Pregnancy Center

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NEWPORT, Tenn. — Wendy Ramsey began her day as she often does, in the cool basement of Lincoln Avenue Baptist Church. It was a Thursday, and her first client was coming at noon. She flipped on the fluorescent lights.

Racks of infant, toddler and maternity clothes neatly lined the waiting area. Formula and baby food were on the shelf, free for anyone who came. A flier for a local domestic violence shelter was taped to the cinder-block wall, one of its tabs ripped off.

A whiteboard in her office listed her prayer requests: for her clients, for their salvation and for new babies.

“We are very open about what we do here — I guess more so, what we do not do here,” she said. “We are not a medical facility, we do not perform abortions and we do not refer for abortions. You can see the form right there.”

She pointed to the sign-in clipboard. The disclaimer was printed in bold and all caps.

Ms. Ramsey runs Options Pregnancy Help Center, a small evangelical Christian nonprofit that provides peer counseling, baby supplies and social services referrals to pregnant women and parents of young children.

The June morning was quiet, the opposite of the anti-abortion protests she used to attend. Protests alone, she had come to think, were “not how Jesus handled anything.” She remembered a Bible story of Jesus welcoming an outcast woman — people like the pregnant women and new mothers she now spends her days trying to help.

“If we want to be pro-life, we have to want more than legislation,” she said. “It just can’t begin and end there.”

Under President Trump, the anti-abortion movement has more power than it has wielded in decades. Roe v. Wade is in the cross-hairs. Nine states have drastically curbed abortion rights in the past few months. Alabama banned nearly all abortions, including in cases of rape or incest.

In Tennessee, conservative lawmakers are pushing a so-called heartbeat bill, which would ban abortion weeks into a pregnancy.

But in this eastern part of the state, a rural and conservative region of cherished religious values, the abortion debates in Washington, in statehouses and on cable news can seem distant.

Here, the front line of the anti-abortion movement is a woman working out of a church basement.

‘My heart is for women’

Options is one of more than 2,700 anti-abortion pregnancy centers across the country. It is affiliated with Care Net, one of the three largest networks of such centers in the United States, whose home page calls for action against “the pro-choice Left,” which it says “publicly defends infanticide.”

NARAL Pro-Choice America calls pregnancy center activists “anti-choice extremists” who “lie to and mislead women to prevent them from considering abortion.” Planned Parenthood clinics, like one in Memphis, report that pregnancy center volunteers try to lure women away from their doors with gift bags or protest vigils.

“All of that is directed at shaming patients who come for abortions, and stigmatizing abortion, which is a part of health care,” said Aimee Lewis, a vice president for Planned Parenthood of Tennessee and North Mississippi. “They are fake clinics.”

Options, like many independent anti-abortion pregnancy centers, is not a licensed medical clinic. But unlike some centers, it does not pretend to be. Volunteers do not force women to hear fetal heartbeats or show them gruesome photos of aborted fetuses. Women are informed that the volunteers are not professional counselors. The vast majority who come have already decided to have their babies.

Instead, the mission is to assure women they can handle the challenges to come, no matter the obstacles; the center helps them find jobs, emotional support or even a place to shower.

“The job is to not just say, ‘Hey, this is a real life inside of you, you need to save it.’ That’s not going to accomplish anything,” Ms. Ramsey, 31, said. “It is to get her to see that whatever she thinks is too big for her to handle, she can actually handle it.”

A third of the people in Cocke County, which includes Newport, are below the poverty line. The Tennessee Department of Health says that it ranks 94th of 95 counties in health outcomes, which measure length and quality of life, and that nearly half of children under 5 do not live in two-parent homes. The nearest abortion clinic is 50 miles away.

Nationwide, about a quarter of women who had abortions said their main reason was that they could not afford to have a baby, according to a 2005 study by the Guttmacher Institute. Half of the women who had abortions in 2014 lived in poverty.

“Circumstances don’t make a woman what she is,” Ms. Ramsey said. “My heart is for women to know their worth,” she said, “that they have a purpose, and that life is not too hard or extreme for them to meet the purpose that they want to do.”

“I just don’t know this is a war we are going to win politically,” she went on. “I wish people could just think people, not power. What is the good for the people?”

‘How can we help them?’

Ms. Ramsey’s first client arrived, almost eight months pregnant. She was 19 and worried about being a first-time mother. Ms. Ramsey asked what success looked like to her, and popped in a breastfeeding DVD to go over ways to hold a baby.

The videos are part of a Christian curriculum designed for anti-abortion pregnancy centers. When a client comes to Options, she watches a short video, does some homework reflecting on the day’s topic and then earns “Baby Bucks,” points she can trade for clothes, supplies, cribs — anything in the donation stockpile.

“We have to do a pregnancy test to start giving her stuff,” Ms. Ramsey explained between clients, otherwise “things get traded and sold.”

Down the hall, Brier Smart, 22, and her boyfriend finished a Bible study session. She dragged a pile of free infant clothes to the couch and began to fold each onesie while he played with their 7-month-old.

They had been coming since she was 30 weeks pregnant. When the Health Department reduced their son’s formula allotment with the Women, Infants and Children supplemental nutritional assistance program, they were grateful Options could help out.

Newport, a city of about 6,800, was getting a little better, Ms. Smart said. There was the updated movie theater and pool at the park. But many people they knew from school were now addicted to drugs — particularly methamphetamine. Grandparents were left raising children.

Ms. Ramsey stood in her office, reflecting on her mission. She could remember only three times when a client said she had come to Options thinking about abortion.

“I don’t ever look at a baby and think, ‘This is going to make this girl’s life way worse,’” she said. “When I see people that are living in poverty, I don’t look at it like, those people shouldn’t have a kid because they aren’t going to take care of it. I look at it as, ‘Those people aren’t in a good situation; how can we help them be in a better situation, with or without a kid?’”

She finds truth in the critique by many who support abortion access that their opponents do not care about life beyond birth. “All we want is the baby to be born, and then we are not going to give the parents any kind of tools to take care of it,” she said of many others in the anti-abortion movement. “We are not going to come alongside them, we are just going to feel like we won.”

‘A sense of pride in family’

The last client left for the day, and Ms. Ramsey drove toward Cocke County High School, where she graduated in 2006 before attending Bible college in Knoxville. There, she dreamed of moving to India to fight human trafficking, and even refused to wear shoes for a month to protest global poverty.

Last summer, a leadership club at the high school volunteered to serve dinner at the annual Options fund-raising banquet. It seemed that the whole town showed up: the local judge, the dentist, nurses, a pediatrician, the state representative. Together they raised $35,000 to refurbish a donated house so Options could move out of the church basement, a move set for later this summer.

This night, Ms. Ramsey met with teachers, health care providers, law enforcement and other community leaders to brainstorm how to get all the county’s children ready for kindergarten.

She sat down next to Alicia Dalton, who runs Newport Pediatrics.

“We are all pretty much in the same room together all the time,” Ms. Dalton said, “all working together to meet the same needs.”

Together the group discussed how to increase day care opportunities, make transportation accessible for people without cars and educate parents about nutrition. They had a refrain: “The community owns the problem, the community solves the problem.”

“People take pride in being able to provide for their families,” the county mayor, Crystal Ottinger, said a few days later. “They can’t always do that, for whatever reason: unemployment, disability, it may be drugs. I’m not going to sugarcoat it, we are rural Appalachia. But they still have a sense of pride in family here.”

It is a reason she thinks Options works: People have to earn points and take classes, not simply take free stuff. “The more people that Options can help, the more likely they are to give back,” she said.

Ms. Ramsey said her work was about helping women and their babies, but she also had an underlying hope: that they would commit their lives to Jesus. She offers extra points for Baby Bucks if they go to church. “I can’t lie,” she said. “Ultimately, I just don’t think that there can be an abundant life without Jesus. If they say that’s manipulative and a secret tactic, then I will not apologize for it.”

“I will tell you,” she went on. “We have girls that don’t go to church, that don’t do the Bible studies. I give them as much as anybody else. And I love them as much.”

‘He will set a path for me’

The morning after the meeting, Ms. Ramsey set out in a white minivan. Many of her clients do not have cars, so she picks them up.

She knows Newport’s streets by heart: past the Food City Gas ’N Go, along the railroad tracks, by the women’s jail, where she volunteers every other Thursday, to the bridge dotted with baskets of fuchsia-colored blossoms. She crossed.

This was the side where she grew up, first in the gray trailer and then in the house where her mother lives.

She looked out at the dark clouds growing over the Smoky Mountains in the distance and pulled into a driveway. She prayed silently and then knocked on the door.

A young woman stepped out, about five months pregnant. Jennifer Campbell, 30, was born here, too. Her parents divorced when she was 8, she moved in with her grandparents and then her father died in a motorcycle accident. Things spiraled downhill, from an abusive relationship to opiates and meth. Her two children were taken into state custody. She spent time in jail, and without a home.

And then, she said, she prayed to God.

“I got pregnant during the time that I prayed,” she said. “He blessed me with another chance of being a mom, and I did not want to mess this up.”

Now, she is sober. She goes to the doctor for prenatal care. She met Ms. Ramsey when she was in jail and heard she offered baby supplies. She said she had never considered having an abortion.

“I know that since God has blessed me with this child, he will set a path for me,” she said.

They pulled up to the church’s back door and went in.

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7 Insane Trouble We’ll Have To Deal With In The Future

As we remind you all the time, the future ain’t what it used to be. We have no jetpacks or robot butlers, and we’ve still not upgraded from Land Wars to Star Wars. The dreamers fell short … but it is about to change that some of the pessimists came pretty close to the mark. In the same method that no one in the ‘5 0s envisaged “millions of strangers across the world inadvertently saw your dick” is to be able to become a realistic question, our near-future is likely to be filled with aggravations that chime completely ridiculous to us now.

Here are seven incoming issues that will acquire you yearn for an ape and/ or machine insurgency. At least in such a case, you wouldn’t have to put up with …

# 7. Your Fitbit Could Be Utilized As Evidence Against You

Any denizen of the digital generation knows that anything you say on the Internet can and will be used against you, specially if it’s embarrassing love story. However, that’s a logical propagation of using written material as evidence, as we’ve done for centuries. The newest road to incriminate yourself online has far less precedent: the data collected from wearable engineering, such as the Fitbit.

You can run, but you can’t secrete( the fact that you only killed a hobo ).

Yes, your clothes could send you to jail. It may sound like Law& Order: The Jetsons , but there’s no real reason this kind of data can’t be admissible in tribunal. In happening, it’s already happening. A maiden in Pennsylvania called 911 and claimed that a home invader abused her, but her Fitbit denied her story( she was awake and walking around when she said she was fast asleep ). Her own fitness watch facilitated is proof that she’d attracted the whole story out of her … you know, and now she’s facing misdemeanor charges.

So wearable tech can help make the offender to right. That’s good, right? Well, here’s where it gets fishy. There are already “alibi apps” — planneds that secretly enter all your interactions and circumvents to prove you weren’t( for example) propping a chandelier in the study when Colonel Mustard went whacked. Sounds innocent enough, until you remember that there’s a term for people who intentionally go around establishing alibis: “guilty as fuck.” Using this app is a little bit like going up to a policeman and saying, “By the direction, I’ll be at the movies this afternoon when my bride gets murdered.”

“I was at the … * looks at watch * OJ Simpson retrospective. FUCK! ”

The idea that people are already reputing onward to use their trackers as alibis means that these things will have all sorts of clusterfuck legal capability. What happens when someone offer a hobo to hold their smartphone( or straps it to a bird-dog) while they go out and do violations? Or what if someone acquires your Fitbit to incriminate you? These occasions will happen at some object. Hey, maybe that’s why everyone was becoming couch potato in WALL-E . In the future, being fit won’t is worthy of the hassle.

# 6. The First Commercial Space Shuttles Won’t Have Bathrooms

The future of tripping will involve hitting into the stratosphere instead of wheeling along the route, but that doesn’t necessitate all family vacation traditions will change. “You should’ve gone before you left” is still about to become a common phrase, except that in the future, it’s going to get much direr. Why? Because in space, everybody can see you shit.

He’s not being propelled by a plane .

All of the companies designing prominent commercial-grade space shuttles have clearly forgotten Newton’s Fourth Law of Motion: Everybody poops. None of these shuttles include showers. A excursion to the International Space Station can take between six and 30 hours — that’s a hell of a long time to “just hamper it, ” dad. Hell, even the earthbound high-speed Hyperloop being developed by Elon Musk lacks a comfort station. Oh, or windows. If you thought making gaze contact with the person or persons sitting in front of you in the instruct was tricky, wait until you’re captured in a windowless, toilet-free metallic cylinder with person for hours.

Getting carsick is another tradition that won’t be changing any time soon; in space, it’ll plainly get much more intense. There will be no spaces to wind down and no back of the road to stain. If you’re shuttle-sick( and let’s face it, “youre supposed to” is likely to be ), your little chunder-cloud will be hanging around, becoming another passenger of the aircraft. Developers acknowledge that clearing out the odor and existence of opening vomit will be extremely important, as none play around Space Invaders with the substance of your bowels.

# 5. Living Longer Will Make Family Life Really, Really Weird

One of the main benefits of living in the future is that we no longer drop dead at age 40. Now we get to stick around for decades and decades! And decades. And decades . This will ultimately have some bizarre impacts in some regions of our( increasingly lengthy) lives, starting with the workplace. To evade vanquishing the Social Security system, people will be working long long. Fifty Shades Of Grey won’t only has become a literary masterpiece; it’ll be the lineup behind the bar at your neighbourhood Starbucks.

“You’ve been taking my ordering for the past three decades. How can you still not spell my reputation right? ”

The job market will become even fiercer as girls fresh out of college have to compete with “midlife re-trainees.” Of trend, some people will ever prefer to stay in their occupations for life … which will have even more frightening ramifications. Career politicians, judges, and tenured academics might stick around for the better part of a century, as would their old-fashioned feelings. Remember Supreme Court Justice James McReynolds, the old-time mongrel who spent a good hunk of the 20 th century effectively pushing back against every type of social change? Now thoughts a Highlander version of that guy.

It gets weirder. Grey growing the new pitch-black will altogether alter which is something we think about as clas. With longer lifespans and later marriage ages, we’ll have more grandparents to take care of and fewer brothers and sisters to share that load. Family reunions will transform into an indignant mob of cybernetic geriatrics telling kids to stay off the lawn. Instead of robust family tree, we’ll have rickety family beanstalks.

“A toast to great-great-grandma Mary, who went to the shower at Thanksgiving and hasn’t am coming yet.”

Living longer will even change the very notion of wedlock — or marriages. Single lifelong organizations will become more demanding, so psychologists predict that weddings might become less “until death do us apart” and more “until we get bored of each other in a few decades.” Older pairs who would decide to condone each other if they only had 15 years left to live might say “Screw this, I’m out” when they recognises they have 50 instead.

Finally, with all the pressure living to three digits throws on matters of employment and housing marketplaces, leaving the nest will have to be delayed. So you don’t have to be ashamed about interpret Cracked at 35 in your mother’s basement; you’re merely ahead of the curve.

# 4. VR Trial And Error Will Be A Nightmare

As more and more virtual reality companionships pop up, we’re already starting to see them working to differentiate themselves from each other. Some are trying to appeal to hardcore gamers, some want to attract filthy casuals, one is aiming at people who don’t want brain damage … await, what?

This clarifies so much .

Yep, VR company Magic Leap is boasting that its headset is wholly brain-damage-free. Sure, their competitors’ products might fry your sentiment into a smoldering little ember, but their terribly same one certainly won’t! This does not announce as reassuring as they probably imagined.

While beings said the same about video games, video, and perhaps even pinball machines, this time, the brain-frying dismay has a basis in reality. VR gets your eyes to behave in ways they should not — they’ll go along with it, but there’ll be side effect. Some investigates investigating VR hire cabs for participants after sessions, because after you’ve been in polygon-land for a while, it takes time for “youve got to” relearn how to reach for things that are actually in front of you without overshooting it. It’s hazardous to drive in such a state, but we doubt your console will call an Uber for you if you’re playing alone.

Our good guess of what driving after a VR conference looks like .

Meanwhile, Samsung’s brand-new headset has a huge list of advice, including that if “youre starting” having a seizure, you are able to take it off. After all, it’s expensive engineering — you wouldn’t want to damage it.

Health issues aside, virtual reality likewise elevates complex moral questions. In one Sony VR demo, the simulation forms you flirt with a young-looking maiden, while it’s clear that you’re an old man. At the end of said demo, the developers continue the “No brain damage! ” selling veer by assuring you that the character you were interacting with was definitely give full play to an adult actress.

“Yes, it’s me, Andy Serkis.”

Whether there’s meant to be a wink with that renunciation or not, it heightens a whole legion of questions for what VR should and shouldn’t be allowed to show. Can they get away with a pedophilic simulation if “theyre saying” “No, it’s all actors and actresses”? What about a torturing simulator? What about people watching VR reruns of Two And A Half Men ? These are the hazardous a number of aspects of national societies. But would presenting them virtual simulations eradicate or irritate their predilections? That’s a question we can’t answer right now, but we do know that those in the group watching Two And A Half Men don’t need to worry about any more brain damage.

As we remind you all the time, the future ain’t what it used to be. We have no jetpacks or robot butlers, and we’ve still not improved from Land Wars to Star Wars. The dreamers fell short … but it turns out that some of the cynics came pretty close to the mark. In the same way that no one in the ‘5 0s concluded “millions of strangers across the world inadvertently saw your dick” is to be able to become a realistic difficulty, our near-future is likely to be filled with aggravations that reverberate completely ridiculous to us now.

Here are seven incoming issues that will induce you yearn for an ape and/ or machine insurgency. At least in such a case, you wouldn’t have to was put forward with …

# 7. Your Fitbit Could Be Utilized As Evidence Against You

Any denizen of the digital generation known to be anything you say on the Internet can and will be used against you, specially if it’s humiliating devotee fiction. However, that’s a logical propagation of using written information as evidence, as we’ve done for centuries. The newest channel to incriminate yourself online has much less precedent: the data collected from wearable engineering, such as the Fitbit.

You can run, but you can’t disguise( the fact that you precisely killed a hobo ).

Yes, your invests could send you to jail. It may sound like Law& Order: The Jetsons , but there’s no real reasonablenes this kind of data can’t declared admissible in court. In happening, it’s already happening. A maiden in Pennsylvania announced 911 and claimed that a home invader crimes her, but her Fitbit belied her legend( she was awake and walking around when she said she was fast asleep ). Her own fitness watch helped is proof that she’d pulled the whole story out of her … you know, and now she’s facing misdemeanor accusations.

So wearable tech going to be able to create criminals to justice. That’s good, right? Well, here’s where it gets fishy. There are already “alibi apps” — planneds that secretly enter all your interactions and borders to attest you weren’t( for example) nursing a chandelier in such studies when Colonel Mustard went slapped. Sounds innocent enough, until you remember that there’s a expression for people who intentionally go around launching alibis: “guilty as fuck.” Using this app is a little bit like going up to a polouse and saying, “By the room, I’ll be at the movies this afternoon when my partner gets murdered.”

“I was at the … * looks at watch * OJ Simpson retrospective. FUCK! ”

The idea that people are already anticipating ahead to use their trackers as alibis means that these things will have all sorts of clusterfuck legal potential. What happens when someone compensates a hobo to hold their smartphone( or buckle it to a hound) while they go out and do crimes? Or what if someone borrows your Fitbit to incriminate you? These happens will happen at some object. Hey, maybe that’s why everyone becomes a couch potato in WALL-E . In the future, being fit won’t be worth the hassle.

# 6. The First Commercial Space Shuttles Won’t Have Bathrooms

The future of tripping will involve killing into the stratosphere instead of rolling along the freeway, but that doesn’t represent all family vacation habits will change. “You should’ve been going on you left” is still going to be a common motto, except that in the future, it’s going to be much direr. Why? Because in space, everybody can see you shit.

He’s not being propelled by a spurt .

All of the companies designing foremost commercial space shuttles have been remarkably forgotten Newton’s Fourth Law of Motion: Everybody poops. None of these shuttles include bathrooms. A trip-up to the International Space Station can take between six and 30 hours — that’s a inferno of a long time to “just hamper it, ” dad. Hell, even the earthbound high-speed Hyperloop being developed by Elon Musk lacks a comfort station. Oh, or windows. If you thought acquiring seeing contact with the person or persons sitting in front of you in the train was awkward, delayed until you’re captured in a windowless, toilet-free metal cylinder with someone for hours.

Getting carsick is another tradition that won’t be changing any time soon; in space, it’ll simply get much more intense. There will be no windows to wind down and no side of the road to stain. If you’re shuttle-sick( and let’s face it, “youre supposed to” is likely to be ), your little chunder-cloud is likely to be hanging around, becoming another passenger of the skill. Developers acknowledge that clearing out the odor and attendance of seat vomit will be extremely important, as nothing play around Space Invaders with the substance of your bowels.

# 5. Living Longer Will Make Family Life Really, Really Weird

One of the main benefits of living in the future is that we no longer drop dead at age 40. Now we get to stick around for decades and decades! And decades. And decades . This will eventually have some creepy outcomes in some regions of our( increasingly lengthy) lives, starting with the workplace. To forestall vanquishing the Social Security system, people will be working much longer. Fifty Shades Of Grey won’t simply be a literary masterpiece; it’ll be the lineup behind the counter at your local Starbucks.

“You’ve been taking my ordering for the past three decades. How can you still not spell my reputation right? ”

The job market will become even fiercer as girls fresh out of college have to compete with “midlife re-trainees.” Of track, some people will ever prefer to stay in their professions for life … which will have even more unnerving deductions. Career politicians, judges, and tenured professors might stick around for the better part of a century, as would their old-fashioned thoughts. Remember Supreme Court Justice James McReynolds, the old mongrel who spent a good glob of the 20 th century effectively pushing back against every type of social change? Now sees a Highlander version of that guy.

It get weirder. Grey becoming the brand-new black will absolutely shift what we think of as pedigree. With longer lifespans and later union ages, we’ll have more grandparents to take care of and fewer brothers and sisters to share that quantity. Family reunions will transform into an enraged syndicate of cybernetic geriatrics telling kids to stay off the lawn. Instead of robust family trees, we’ll have rickety family beanstalks.

“A toast to great-great-grandma Mary, who went to the bathroom at Thanksgiving and hasn’t am coming yet.”

Living longer will even change the very notion of matrimony — or marriages. Single lifelong unions will become more demanding, so psychologists predict that unions might become less “until death do us apart” and more “until we get bored of each other in a few decades.” Older couples who would decide to condone one another if they only had 15 years left to live might say “Screw this, I’m out” when they realises they have 50 instead.

Finally, with all the pressure living to three digits gives on matters of employment and housing sells, leaving the nest will have to be delayed. So you don’t have to be ashamed about construe Cracked at 35 in your mother’s basement; you’re simply ahead of the curve.

# 4. VR Trial And Error Will Be A Nightmare

As more and more virtual reality firms pop up, we’re already starting to see them working to differentiate themselves from one another. Some are trying to appeal to hardcore gamers, some want to attract filthy casuals, one is aiming at people who don’t want brain damage … waiting, what?

This shows so much .

Yep, VR company Magic Leap is boasting that its headset is absolutely brain-damage-free. Sure, their competitors’ commodities might fry your intellect into a smoldering little ember, but their particularly same one certainly won’t! This does not sound as reassuring as they probably imagined.

While beings said the same about video games, television, and perhaps even pinball machines, this time, the brain-frying fright has a basis in reality. VR gets your eyes to behave in ways they should not — they’ll go along with it, but there’ll be side effects. Some investigates analyzing VR hire cabs for participants after conferences, because after you’ve been in polygon-land for a while, it takes time for “youve got to” relearn how to reach for acts that are actually in front of you without overshooting it. It’s hazardous to drive in such a state, but we doubt your console will call an Uber for you if you’re playing alone.

Our best guess of what driving after a VR seminar looks like .

Meanwhile, Samsung’s new headset has a huge list of admonishings, including the right if you start having a seizure, you are able to take it off. After all, it’s expensive engineering — you wouldn’t want to damage it.

Health editions aside, virtual reality also promotes complex moral difficulties. In one Sony VR demo, the pretending stirs you flirt with a young-looking wife, while it’s clear that you’re an old boy. At the end of said demo, the developers continue the “No brain damage! ” selling veer by assuring you that the character you were interacting with was definitely played by young adults actress.

“Yes, it’s me, Andy Serkis.”

Whether there’s meant to be a wink with that disclaimer or not, it causes a whole host of questions for what VR should and shouldn’t be allowed to show. Can they get away with a pedophilic simulation if they say “No, it’s all actors and actresses”? What about a anguish simulator? What about people watching VR reruns of Two And A Half Men ? These are the hazardous a number of aspects of national societies. But would affording them virtual simulations eradicate or irritate their tendencies? That’s a question we can’t answer right now, but we do know that those in the group watching Two And A Half Men don’t need to worry about any more brain damage.

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