#“We should be consuming media out of our comfort circle” yes!!

[kiwisandpearls]

I love it when discussions about how we should be consuming things other than kids media suddenly derail into making fun and judging people for consuming media that’s for a younger age demographic that’s so cool so fun so amazing so

[ds9au]

Each time I rewatch Deep Space Nine at a new point in my life, I connect with it in a new way, as experience always informs and transforms the media we consume.

When I first moved to Japan a decade ago, my focus would turn to Garak, deeply identifying with someone who was so far removed from his home and culture.

But this latest rewatch is the most heartbreaking.

Many of the conflicts which make up the settings of Star Trek stories are drawn from real world events. The Undiscovered Country rides on an analogy of the Cold War with a sprinking of the Munich Agreement. The writers for DS9 have viewed the Bajorans to be any among many refugees, both historical and contemporary.

It’s one thing to watch a show like this and to consider—yet not be able to fathom—the idea that what’s being said and done on screen actually happened in some way or form. It’s fiction. It’s adapted for its audience. Surely, NO ONE IS LIKE THIS TODAY, one may or may not explicitly think. And yet,...

We never invaded Korea! We helped them! They were barbarians with no culture. We gave them culture and money and now they are just ungrateful!

There’s nothing quite so jarring as hearing someone you love, someone whose culture and life you’ve dedicated yourself to embracing and understanding, spit out the lines of a fictional war criminal with all seriousness and all expectation of agreement.

Nothing Gul Dukat says should exit the mouth of a human being. Yet here is one of the closest humans to me, a citizen of a nation that prides itself on its civility, saying as much in the Year of Our Lord 2020.

Was I really that surprised? Yes, and no.

No, because I’m not so naive to think such things simply don’t exist. I know they do. I’d already heard the stories about Japan’s revisionist history and education systems.

Yes, because I did not want to believe that such a person would find their way into my innermost circle. I wanted to see the best in this person. I hoped with the influence of a outside perspective that they might see—

Anyway, we are no longer together.

I’ve only just hit “Duet” in my current rewatch and had to pause and process. I suspect I’m going to struggle this time through: Between watching my friends’ “hafu” children grow up and following the plight of the living victims who were made “comfort women” a century prior, this time every story will hit closer to home than it ever has for me before.

I know that by saying so, I’m speaking from a place of privilege, and there are many people who found their families in media like this from Day 1. And while my understanding may be expanding, there is yet a lot I don’t grok.

I don’t really have a conclusion here. I think I just wanted to process this. But if you’ve read this far, thank you. And please, be kind. The world always needs more kind people. 💕

[purplesurveys]

1044

survey by a7xbabii 

Do you use e-mail often? I use it for eight hours, five days a week for work, so yes.

Do you hear any animals right now? I’m in a Starbucks inside a mall situated in the middle of a busy highway. It would be very unlikely to hear any animals right now.

Are you in a well-lit room? Sure, I’d say this establishment has good lighting. There’s no light directly above me unlike the other seats, but it’s okay in this case as I don’t want other people seeing me take surveys.

Is your trashcan full? The main one we use at home just got full, so the last time I checked this morning my mom was airing it out.

What was the last crunchy thing you consumed? My chicken barbecue sandwich from last night.

Did you view anything disturbing today? Hmm, I guess so? I wanted to entirely redo one part of my embroidery piece since I wasn’t happy with how I did it, so I had to remove the threads and stuff. When they were all gone the template was filled with holes and it looked like one of those trypophobia photos. I’m not personally disturbed by that phenomenon, but I know a lot of people are.

Are there any holiday decorations in your house? Yeah, we’ve had our Christmas tree up since the beginning of November. We also usually put a wreath up our door but idk why my mom didn’t this year.

When was the last time you had a terrible headache? Last night, because I had not eaten all day. 

Have you recently put lotion on your hands? No. I don’t like the feeling of lotion, so I don’t apply it on me a lot, if at all.

Are you hungry? Not so much, actually. I don’t feel too hungry today; I didn’t even finish my breakfast and that’s the only meal I’ve had so far today, and it’s already 4 PM.

Is it rainy where you're at right now? No, it’s quite fair. The sun’s not too strong anymore because of the time, but it’s still very much bright out.

Do you carry a purse? If so, describe what it looks like. I take a wallet with me. It’s pink, made of fake leather, has three main slots inside, and it also has some tiny bite marks on the outer edges from when Cooper was a lot younger.

Is your cell phone on vibrate? For certain notifications only, like texts and Viber.

Is your dishwasher full? We don’t use a dishwasher.

When is the last time you saw someone you like/love. Around a week and a half ago.

Do you like to wear gloves? No, I find them too itchy and I don’t need to wear them anyway.

Is there a body of water near where you live? There’s a creek that passes through my village near the clubhouse area, if that counts.

What are your thoughts on Avenged Sevenfold? No opinion. I never listened to them; though I am reminded of this one mutual I used to have on Tumblr/Twitter. She used to be a wrestling fan and was a part of our main circle, but she gradually shifted her main fandom to Avenged Sevenfold. By the time she cemented her new interest she then went on a huge unfollowing spree of wrestling fans on her feed and she apparently PM’d each person she intended to unfollow, including me. I remember her explaining that she was now in a different fandom and was gonna have to stop following me which I found...kinda extra to be honest lmao because nobody does that, but I appreciate the effort to approach each one of us, I guess.

Are you wearing anything pink right now? Nope, but my wallet is pink and so is my keyboard cover.

Do you like to swim in the ocean? I prefer beaches, but sure.

What is the creepiest bug you've ever saw? Cockroaches.

Do you currently have split ends? I don’t think so.

When is the last time you used the bathroom? Around five hours ago when I took a shower before heading out.

Do you chew on your lip? Almost never.

Are you afraid of needles? For the most part yeah, especially syringes. I’m not afraid of them when I do my embroidery, but that’s the only time I feel comfortable with a needle.

What is the last thing you lost? A pen, I think.

When is the last time you saw a bald person? Five hours ago, when I said bye to my dad.

What car were you last in? [continued from two days ago] My own. I was driving home from the mall.

Do you like Batman? I tried to get into Batman and the whole shebang of comic books when I was a teenager, but I just couldn’t.

Have you ever played tennis? Never have, actually. I’ve always wanted to try.

Can you see a star shape in the room you are in? Probably not in my bedroom.

What are you sitting on? A pillow I’ve placed on my work chair so that it’s more comfortable. My parents got me a basic chair initially meant just for my internship, so it’s not the comfiest of chairs haha. But now that I have a job, a more suitable work chair is probably one of things I’ll have to invest on.

What is the last warm thing you touched? My chest felt itchy just a few seconds ago, so I was able to feel my skin scratching it.

Do you use hand sanitizer? That’s kind of a necessity now, so...

Where do you want to go in life? [continued from...I don’t even remember anymore] I don’t know if I even plan to make it past 30 at this point. I can’t answer this right now.

Are you sweating? No, I’ve been in air-conditioned rooms all day and it feels so damn good.

When is the last time you had to scratch an itch? A few minutes ago when my neck itched.

Are you in any kind of club or group that is trying to save animals? No, but I very much support the cause.

Who is the last blonde you saw? At work today I saw someone who had her hair dyed blonde.

Where were you two hours after you got up, and what were you doing there? I needed to go to the office today because my team and I needed to pack some stuff to seed to certain media. It was the first time I got to visit the place and it was sooooooo homey and pretty :) I wish we can be allowed to work in the office soon; it would be best for my mental health at this point.

Do you wish for world peace? Um, of course.

Have you ever played fetch with a dog? We were able to teach Cooper how to pick up items that we throw but he’s still slowly learning that he actually has to give it back to us, haha.

What is the nearest object that is wood? The table I am typing on is made of wood.

Do you use Netflix? Yes, we have a family subscription.

Does your house have a fireplace? No, we don’t. And I can confidently tell you all other houses in this entire country, and probably the whole of Southeast Asia, don’t.

Do you wake yourself up in the morning, or does someone else? I wake myself up. On important days, I’ll put an alarm on.

What kind of hoodie did you last wear? It was a white hoodie with a UP seal on the left side.

Do you play games on your computer? No, my laptop isn’t equipped for games. I tried downloading Sims 4 when they made it free for a few weeks back in 2018, but my laptop’s fan started whirring like crazy and the battery got drained super fast. The entire period of me booting it up and then deleting it took like, a literal 15 minutes.

What is the last video game that you played? Mario Kart 8 on the Switch. I want to get myself Switch games as gifts, but I’m just so stingy towards myself hahaha.

Have you ever pet a stingray? I’m 50% would like to at least once and 50% I know of what it did to Steve Irwin, and I’m not messing with them.

If you were on vacation, would you ever go to Ireland? It’s not a big item on my bucket list, honestly. I’d love to go to Ireland, but it would probably be a part of a bigger itinerary, like if I decided to take a trip to that part of Europe.

Are you logged into Myspace right now? I haven’t been on there for more than a decade.

Did you have anything bad happen to you today? Yeah, but they’re stuff that happened at work that are a little hard to explain. 

Have you ever been to New York? Nope. I’d love to take a trip there.

Do you use the term "lol" if you don't have anything to say? Not really. I use it in the end of my messages more so that I don’t sound mean.

Should you be sleeping right now instead of taking this survey? Hell no. It’s a Friday night so the last thing I want to be doing is sleeping.

Can you truly say you hate anyone? I don’t think so. I greatly dislike my brother, but I guess I don’t hate him. I find it too strong a word.

Have you ever disected a baby pig in a class at school? Not a piglet, no. We dissected an earthworm, a fish, and eventually a frog.

What brand of dish liquid do you use? A local brand you wouldn’t recognize.

When is the last time you ate a Hershey Kiss? It’s probably been more than a year. It’s not my favorite candy.

Do you ever feel unappreciated? Yes.

Do you currently have any blemishes on your face? No. My pimple finally went away, hallelujah.

Who is the last baby you held? My cousin who is now 13 years old. I’m too anxious to hold babies; I always feel like I’d drop them so I find myself declining even when I have the chance to hold one.

Are you a lover? I guess.

Do you use smileys often in text convos? Yes. Not a lot of people like them but it’s better to sound friendly and approachable than stoic.

Do you have the Google toolbar on your computer? Like...Chrome? I have the program, yeah. It’s my default browser as well.

Do you like Sunkist? I’ve never had it.

Would you ever consider being a cannibal? I mean...I guess only if I was in a life-and-death situation, like if a plane I was in crashed on an island and I was starting to get hungry. I certainly don’t fantasize about cannibalism on any regular day.

Did you forget something important in the past week? I made a few mistakes at work due to me forgetting things, yeah.

Do you like learning new things? Sure.

What color is your toothpaste? White.

Are the floors in your house creaky? Nopes. I don’t think our doors are creaky-level just yet as well.

Do you fear death? I hate the uncertainty of what happens while it’s taking place, and what happens after. But I’ve been wishing for it for a while as well. There’s a difference.

Is your mouth dry? Not right now, no.

Do yoou have any scars from an animal? Yeah I’ve got a few marks and scratches from Cooper. I never run out of them, really.

Did you have fun with this survey? It was okay.

Was it random enough? Sure.

[beca-mitchell]

never grow up (winter wonderland) (1/1)

Summary: A series of snippets—Beca and Chloe spend their holidays in Seattle. A rare heavy snowfall makes for baby Emma’s first white Christmas.

Please see @asimplefavors’ winter photoset here. the captions/headings match up with her captions on the social media AU. An impromptu collab!

Also yes, please listen to Taylor Swift’s “Never Grow Up” in the background.

Word count: 3521

Read below or on AO3.

chloebeale: pretending that it’s not 20° outside #hellowashington

Beca is stunned as the plane lands and Emma continues to sleep contentedly in Chloe’s arms. 

“What?” Chloe asks, a light laugh escaping her when she takes in Beca’s bewildered expression.

“She’s perfect,” Beca says, a hint of awe creeping into her voice.

“You’re such a nerd,” Chloe teases.

“That’s my line,” Beca parries back, but she is sufficiently distracted when Emma blinks awake, almost on cue. “Hi,” she says softly. “Hi, we’re in Seattle now. Can you say Seattle?”

Emma’s fist shoots out—shockingly agile for a baby—and she attempts to immediately grab onto Chloe’s hair.

“She’s already nervous,” Beca comments.

Chloe snorts. “Are you sure that’s not just you talking?”

Beca ignores her, reaching out to hold Emma in her arms. “Can you say Washington?” Emma makes a sound that sounds happy enough. “Good job,” Beca praises. “You’re so talented.”

“Your mom’s going to love her,” Chloe says softly. “She loves you and she’s going to love Emma.”

— — — — —

chloebeale: mama refused to wear the matching socks

“Please,” Chloe tries again. She barely resists from laughing because Beca looks legitimately afraid of the animal socks.

“Chloe, you know fuzzy socks make me feel weird. Like the sound styrofoam makes. But for my feet. I hate it.”

At that, Chloe frowns in sympathy because she does know that. The socks admittedly are fuzzy, but not horrendously so and Chloe hadn’t really thought about it when she bought the matching set for their family. Emma kicks her feet out, clearly delighted by the cartoon animal on her feet. 

Emma babbles happily then looks up at Chloe, leaning all the way back into her stomach from where she sits, perched between Chloe’s outstretched legs. “Yes,” Chloe replies cheerfully. “A penguin!”

Beca falters as she watches her wife and daughter interact. Chloe is talking animatedly to Emma—Emma who is trying to grab at her own feet, clearly invested in the socks decorating her feet.

All at once, Beca is amazed at how fast Emma has grown—it was definitely only just yesterday when a small, squirming bundle was handed to her and Beca hadn’t realized she was crying until a small tear had landed on the wrap surrounding her baby.

Her baby.

Hers and Chloe’s. 

“Where are you going?” Chloe asks, from where she is still sitting in the middle of Beca’s mother’s living room. Beca rolls her eyes goodnaturedly, still unable to keep the smile off her face.

“Going to get the socks so we can match.”

Chloe gasps excitedly and Emma, clearly not wanting to be left out begins to giggle, though it comes out more as a gurgle.

“Mama’s going to match!” Chloe is telling Emma happily.

The things Beca does for this family.

— — — — —

chloebeale: YOU’RE KIDDING ME!!!!

Chloe swears she turns around for two seconds.

Beca is contentedly playing with Emma in the snow, making full use of Emma’s new—and very expensive—snow suit on the porch of Beca’s mother’s home. 

“Chloe!” Beca yelps suddenly, making Chloe drop her mittens when she whirls around.

“What?” Chloe demands, eyes immediately searching Emma’s rosy cheeks and her face for any sign of injury. She is so concerned that for three seconds she doesn’t notice that Emma is making delighted cooing sounds and flailing her arms around. Then she notices that Emma’s face is smeared with snow that has already started to melt off her cheeks and nose.

“She just put her whole face into the snowman we were building,” Beca explains in awe.  “Like just. Put her whole face. Into the snow.”

Chloe squeals when Emma grabs a handful of snow and crushes it in her gloved hands. “She’s so cute!” Chloe almost reaches out for her, but then holds herself back. “Wait, we should see what else she does,” she explains in a whisper to Beca. 

“I hope she eats the snow,” Beca says helpfully.

 — — — — —

chloebeale: it’s a lot less romantic when I tell you that we used the timer setting

All Beca can see is white. Sheets and sheets of snow, freshly fallen from the sky. She nurses the mug currently in her hands, allowing the heat to warm her chilled fingers—chilled from where they had been pressed against the window when she had gotten out of bed and dragged her hands along the cold windowpane with a child-like glee. 

Being back in Seattle, being able to see all the wonders Washington has to offer again, Beca wonders why she finds herself staying away so often. She sits, swaddled among fluffy sheets while Chloe continues to snooze behind her.

The memory of the previous night sends a pleasant shiver down her spine without any help from the cold beyond the glass.

(Chloe’s lips, hard and bruising against her lips. Beca gasps for breath, but barely has a chance to do much else than whimper against Chloe’s mouth when Chloe’s hands pick her up, gripping tight under her thighs and carrying her to the bed. 

Chloe’s lips, so soft and delicate as she kisses and licks between her legs, desperation and lust blending into one. Beca’s eyes fixated on the ceiling while Chloe gently licks and sucks at wet flesh—almost embarrassingly wet—while taking small pauses to whisper words of love into Beca’s thighs; to smile against warm, wet skin.

The ceiling is so white—bare, like the fresh snow outside. So much snow—more than Beca's used to, even for Seattle standards—but it is incredibly beautiful. 

Beca gasps out a chorus of Chloe’s name before blinding white consumes her.) 

A strong arm slides around her waist. “What an unnecessarily gigantic window,” Chloe mumbles. A hand comes up to tangle in Beca’s hair, gently sweeping the unruly strands away from her neck.

“Look at the view,” Beca teases.

Soft lips gently touch her neck. Beca shivers.

“I am,” Chloe finally says in a tone that clearly indicates that she is in fact not looking at the view. Her lips continue to tease the increasingly-warm skin at the base of Beca’s neck before trailing just under her jaw. “I’m enjoying the view.” Her hands join at Beca’s belly. “So much.” Chloe begins to rub teasing circles into Beca’s midsection, slowly drifting lower as she goes.

Beca loses herself to the sensation. She loves the feeling of Chloe’s hands on her body—the striking familiarity and sure, confident touch—as a reminder that she is still so, so desired and Chloe’s love for her knows no bounds. The feeling is entirely mutual. Beca somehow feels like an emotional mess and a teenager again, with how quickly her body is reacting to Chloe’s touch. “That feels nice, baby,” Beca rasps, reaching up with her free hand to lazily grip at Chloe’s hair.

“Mm…we should take a photo.”

Beca is distracted, primarily by the feeling of Chloe’s ministrations on her body. She is barely cognizant of the mug of tea in her hands and quickly places it on the closest coffee table.

Then, suddenly, Chloe’s warmth is leaving her. “Wait, where are you going? You weren’t serious were you?” Chloe giggles from behind her. Beca twists to follow the sound, highly alarmed. “We are nude!”

— — — — —

chloebeale: we got drunk then cried over missing our baby too much #momlife

Chloe trails the tips of her fingers up and around Beca’s neck and shoulders, enjoying the comforting weight of Beca leaning against her heavily. Full from dinner and exhausted from socializing with Beca’s family, they sit quietly in their room, watching Emma babble happily while crawling around their bed. They had gone out the previous night, just the two of them as a last impromptu date night while Beca’s mother looked after Emma. It ended up being just the two of them looking through photos on Chloe’s phone and deciding which ones to send to their friends.

The night had ended early and Chloe had been all too eager to cuddle with her wife and baby the moment they got home.

Now, sitting in their temporary room in Beca’s mother’s home, this feels like the first moment of quiet since landing in Seattle, just the three of them.

Chloe zones out momentarily, thinking about how much of her life had been so incredibly magical over the past decade. She thinks, silently pondering over every last moment, every last second, with Beca Mitchell in her life. Loving Beca and loving Emma are the easiest things Chloe has ever done and she is never giving that up.

“Hey,” Beca murmurs. Chloe can tell she’s tired, based on the sleepy way she tilts her head up to nuzzle into Chloe’s neck. “What are you thinking about over there?”

“Thinking about how much I love you,” Chloe whispers. Emma is lying still now, looking fairly tired, but her face is turned towards them and she blinks, as if she is fascinated by their conversation. 

“Me?” Beca seems to perk up with the knowledge. “What about me has you so distant?” she questions, skimming her fingers along Chloe’s hip.

“I’m just so happy to be married to one of the best people in the world,” Chloe says honestly. She loves how flustered Beca gets whenever she talks about her love. “And how this person is also the mother of my child. And my best friend.” Chloe sighs. “I lucked out.”

“God,” Beca complains. “She sounds lame. Sounds like she’s the lucky one honestly.”

“Is that so?”

“Definitely.” Chloe can’t help the grin that overtakes her face when Beca gets out of bed to gently lift Emma and tuck her into the little cot they brought along. “What are you staring at, weirdo?” Beca asks when she turns around and catches Chloe’s full-blown grin and soft eyes.

“A hot mom,” Chloe responds instantly.

“Is that so?” Beca echoes, before climbing over Chloe’s lap and straddling her thighs.”Are you just going to stare, or…?”

Chloe runs her hands up Beca’s back, smoothing the wrinkles in the light sleep shirt she’s wearing. “I could,” she murmurs. She tilts her head up obligingly for a kiss. Beca sighs happily, immediately tilting her head to deepen the kiss briefly while her fingers reach up to scratch at the back of Chloe’s neck. 

The kiss is familiar, as are most of their kisses. With time, Chloe has mastered the art of interpreting Beca’s kisses, knowing when her wife craves more than just affection. This is one of those moments where Beca simply craves closeness, but chooses to not express that in so many words. Chloe moves her hands to Beca’s hips, holding her steady while allowing Beca to guide their kiss at whatever pace she chooses. Again and again, their lips meet, eventually slowing into gentle, languid presses of lips against lips.

Beca smiles into the kiss, leaning back in Chloe’s lap.

“Better?” Chloe asks, voice a little hoarser than usual.

Beca nods, leaning in to brush her nose against Chloe’s, an unexpected giggle escaping her when Chloe immediately pulls her close for a tight hug and rolls them around on the bed until they’re lying in a messy, tangled heap amongst their pillows and sheets. “Thank you,” Beca murmurs when her breathlessness dissipates.

“For what?”

Beca hesitates. “For picking me. For this family.”

That response is so unexpected and so quick, but spoken with such reverence and tenderness that Chloe is instantly overwhelmed. Though Chloe never doubts Beca’s love for her and Beca’s love for their family, small, tender moments like these never fail to make every last emotion well up in Chloe and spill out of her in a fit of passion. She immediately can’t help herself and cups Beca’s cheek, pulling her in for one last, lingering kiss.

After a moment, Chloe pulls back, heart pounding at the sight of Beca’s eyes staring back at her intently. Just for a moment, however, because then, Beca’s eyes flutter closed.

Both of them finally exhausted, Chloe can’t help but gather all the strength she can from this holiday; from her wife; from their baby snoozing in her own cot—all to murmur one last sentiment before Beca drifts off completely.

”I’ll always pick you, Beca.”

— — — — —

 chloebeale: never grow up..

When Beca wakes, Chloe is nowhere to be found. She inhales steadily for a few more moments, intently considering whether she ought to return to sleep, but the distinct lack of her wife snoring next to her as well as the distinct lack of any sounds from Emma’s cot ensure that her body automatically begins to fully awaken so she can search for her missing family.

Yawning, Beca quickly scrubs her face and brushes her teeth as the last vestiges of sleep fade away from her. Padding through her mother’s home, Beca feels both familiarity and distance. She has long considered L.A. to be her home, even more so now that she and Chloe have a relatively new addition to their lives, but Beca still feels every bit like a moody teenager creeping around creaky floorboards and tiptoeing down the stairs based on instinct.

Her mother is cooking already, pleasant smells and sounds coming from the kitchen. Beca can tell that breakfast will be a good spread and her stomach twists in reaction to both the memory of her mother’s food and literal smells she picks up.

For a moment, Beca forgets the past decade and a half of her life. It feels like a weekend; a surprisingly white Christmas in Seattle; another morning alone because Beca opted not to go to her father’s again and Beca’s mother is smiling at her from across the kitchen table. “It’s just us,” she says, eyes bright with both happiness and sadness as she gazes at Beca. “Never grow up,” she continues.

Beca hadn’t understood anything about that then. Just that she was tired and needed some food or she’d be grumpy for the rest of the day.

But now, still stuck in the memory, Beca freezes in the doorway. She wonders how time somehow slipped through her grasp so quickly. Her mother, all grey hairs and slumped shoulders, continues to cook, but everything has changed.

“Beca,” her mother greets happily. “Good morning. You're up early.”

And all at once, it is like sound crashes around them and Beca’s cousin is pushing past her into the kitchen, tiny bodies immediately following him with high, excited voices chiming in whenever they deem necessary.

“Can you go fetch Chloe? She stepped out with Emma for just a few minutes into the back.”

Beca nods, still a little dumbstruck. She finds Chloe immediately. Chloe, who looks everything like a snow princess: cozy white sweater and white jeans with cascading red hair flowing out from under a warm hat. In her arms, Chloe holds Emma in her arms. Emma, who is wrapped in a makeshift swaddle, is gazing up at Chloe with all her attention.

Chloe appears to be singing to her, which becomes clearer as Beca opens the sliding glass door and steps outside in a pair of stolen boots.

It’s an old Taylor Swift song, Beca thinks, but she can’t quite place the name. She’s sure Chloe will remind her of it soon enough. The melody is both beautiful and haunting, but Chloe’s voice is so light and airy that Beca can’t interpret it as anything but totally loving and happy.

By the time Chloe finishes, Beca has made her way over completely and stands close by Chloe’s side.

“Good morning sleepyhead,” Chloe greets.

“Was that to me or the baby?” 

Chloe giggles. “Both. What’s got you up and about?”

“Just thinking,” Beca murmurs. She tucks her cold hands around Chloe’s waist and hooks her chin over her wife’s shoulder. 

“Not too hard, I hope,” Chloe replies, continuing to gently rock Emma back and forth. Emma coos, tilting her head to gaze at Beca contentedly before resting her head against Chloe’s chest. The fluffy hat brushes Beca’s nose, but she makes no move to shift away.

“Just...I never want her to grow up,” Beca admits. Her throat feels tight. “I just want it to be like this forever. Is that selfish?”

Chloe’s stance seems to soften even more. "No, absolutely not," she promises. Chloe adjusts her hold on Emma’s bundled body and uses her now-free arm to wrap around Beca’s shoulder to pull her into more of a side hug. “Is everything okay?”

Beca smiles, leaning in to kiss the corner of Chloe’s mouth. “Everything’s perfect.”

— — — — —

 chloebeale: we feed her, I swear

“We need to socialize her more,” Beca says, holding Emma in her arms while her cousin carries his own daughter across the field. “I don’t think she’s ever seen another baby before.”

“She’s fine,” Chloe insists. She twists to greet Chris and his daughter Nicole. “Hi you,” she greets, kissing Nicole on her cheeks. “You’ve grown so much!”

“Hi Chloe, always nice to see you again,” Chris greets with a laugh. “Beca, still as short as ever I see.” 

Beca scowls from behind Emma’s hat. “Shut up. Where’s your better half?”

“She’s inside with our other kids,” Chris says. “This one,” he says, lifting Nicole slightly. Nicole, who is staring at Emma with interest and curiosity. “Loves the snow.”

“Emma,” Chloe says, reaching to pull Emma into her arms. “Do you want to play?”

“My kid’s cuter than yours,” Beca says once Emma leaves her arms. 

“Beca!” Chloe exclaims. “Behave.” She turns to face Nicole again and kisses her on the cheek once more, this time with Emma in her arms. “She didn’t mean that,” she whispers conspiratorially, evidently not noticing Emma’s suddenly wide eyes.

When they set both of them on the ground, both children looking adorable and extremely huggable, Emma immediately takes a few short toddler steps towards the other baby and immediately reaches out to—

“Emma!” Chloe yelps while Beca laughs hysterically. Emma is licking a line up Nicole’s face—poor Nicole is frozen, but not entirely displeased—in order to lick up bits of snow and ice.

“She didn’t learn that from me,” Beca calls from behind Chloe.

 — — — — —

chloebeale: Beca told her that Santa wasn’t real

Chloe loves hearing Beca converse with Emma. Beca hasn’t quite mastered the art of baby talk and she believes—correctly, Chloe thinks—that babies ought to be spoken to like a regular person

Beca is pretending to use Emma’s stuffed bunny to talk to her, which is exceptionally amusing considering Beca is telling Emma about where snow comes from. Chloe is filming as discreetly as possible on her phone because she is constantly in awe at how incredibly awesome her family is at any given moment.

“Ice crystals,” Beca explains patiently. “It’s kind of cool. Each snowflake is different.” She adjusts the hat on their daughter’s head, grinning at the way the pompoms wobble with how large they are.

Emma stares, transfixed, at the stuffed animal in Beca’s hands, like it holds all the secrets to the universe. It was a gift from Beca’s uncle and Chloe has yet to see it leave Emma’s zone of perception. In fact, Chloe notes, Emma looks a little wary that Beca is manhandling the bunny at all. If babies somehow are able to master a look of distrust and suspicion, Chloe thinks Emma is verging pretty close.

“When you grow up, we’re going to have to explain Santa,” Beca continues. “That’ll be harder, but if you want to continue believing in him, you bet we’ll go along with you.” She smiles at Emma while Chloe tries not to laugh. Suddenly, Emma begins to cry and Beca’s smile drops right off her face. “Wait, no!” Beca turns to face Chloe in panic. “I didn’t mean that. Do you think she understood me?”

Beca’s genuine fear paired with their baby’s increasingly loud shrieking causes Chloe to finally put down her phone and stand so she can comfort her poor, distressed family. “Yes Beca,” Chloe says, taking the bunny from Beca’s hands and putting it back next to Emma. It’s cute how they’re pretty much the same size. Emma’s crying ceases nearly instantaneously. “I’m sure she understood every word.”

 — — — — —

chloebeale: wifey <3

“Beca, swings are for children,” Chloe teases.

“And we have a child,” Beca points out. “C’mere,” she says to Emma, holding her arms out to take her from Chloe’s arms. Chloe laughs when Emma immediately moves to grab Beca’s hair. “She’s so obsessed with my hair.” She smiles slyly at Chloe. “Another thing she gets from you.” 

Chloe blushes, pink from embarrassment and the cold. “Shut up.” She squeals suddenly. “Wait, you two are so cute!” She fumbles with her bag to pull out her phone. “My two puffy babies.” Emma is delighted by the strands of Beca’s hair tangled in her tiny fingers.

“Puffy?” Beca looks down at her Michelin Man-esque coat. “Oh, I see. Haha, very funny.”

Chloe leans in to steal a kiss. “Okay, now go get on the swings you big baby.” She pulls Emma back. “I’m giving you five minutes.”

“That’s all the time in the world as long as you’re here.”

[unless-we-choose-to-reverse-it]

Re: Contrapoints.

So Natalie Wynn, AKA Contrapoints, recently deleted her Twitter. And I’m going to state, up front, that if you are celebrating this fact, you are the problem. Inb4 y’all cancel my ass about this.

And to give the TL;DR up front: this is a post about what “cancel culture” actually looks like. Actual violent abusers being named and shamed is not cancel culture. Sex pests and people who are genuinely fucking hateful being accurately described as such? Not cancel culture. That’s a thing called “I don’t want to associate with these bastards, and I want other people to know that they are bastards.”

But let’s talk about what actual cancel culture looks like. I’m going to put the rest of this under a “read more” so that I don’t put an entire goddamn essay on everyone’s feed.

For those who do not know, Natalie Wynn operates the YouTube channel Contrapoints, focused on discussing leftist politics with a particular focus on gender and sex. Natalie, being a trans woman, has a level of insider knowledge that a lot of performatively woke people online lack, and her work, true to her nom de plume, often deals with the fact that these are complicated issues.

She has a considerable following, and a good deal of her following consists of men who she has essentially saved from becoming alt-right shitlords. Her production values, knack for performance, and willingness to recognize complex issues when she sees them has a certain power with people who are not already involved in leftist circles, and while many of her takes are fairly pedestrian by the standards of people DEEP into left-leaning circles, she is one of the avenues for bringing people into leftist politics from outside. Go onto any one of her most popular videos, and you’ll see the comments filled with people talking about how Natalie made them change their minds. It’s a beautiful kind of thing.

Now, am I loading the conversation a bit because I am a fan of Contrapoints? Yes. Yes I am. Because I believe that her work is valuable to modern leftism. She is a propagandist, and what’s more, she’s a brilliant propagandist. Where so many people attempt to bring people into leftism through shame, she entertains and entices, and presents a force that reactionary shitbags seem incapable of attacking.

But where reactionaries find themselves wanting, the Puritans have plenty of ammo to destroy progressive spaces from within.

Fast forward to a few days ago. Natalie Wynn posts a tweet talking about asking for pronouns. Now, because she deleted her Twitter and I don’t have the tweet in front of me, I cannot quote it verbatim, but to paraphrase, she said that asking for people’s pronouns isn’t always the best idea, since it can make binary trans people feel like they’re being isolated and viewed as “less than” their gender.

Okay, have we read that? Good. Let’s consider that for a second.

This is a genuinely good point to make, and it mostly arose from her own feelings of discomfort re: being a trans woman and finding trans-inclusive spaces uncomfortable on that account. Perhaps the point was not elegantly made, but still.

Non-binary trans folk, binary trans folk who can “pass,” and binary trans folk who cannot; they all have different needs. For some people, asking about pronouns is an affirming thing, something which allows them to articulate themselves fully and prevents them from dealing with people misgendering them. For others, especially those who are interested in a more classically gendered expression, asking about pronouns can feel like misgendering, can feel like people regard you as less than your actual self.

This is a discussion that needs to be had. How can the community balance different needs from very closely linked groups of people? How can we reconcile the needs of people who are openly defiant of gender norms and who want their opposition to that recognized, with the needs of people who are more comfortable with traditionally gendered expression and who want to be recognized as such?

It’s a conversation that needs to be had. Unfortunately, subtlety is dead on Twitter dot com. And on social media in general.

When I talk about “Puritans,” I refer to a specific subset of Extremely Online progressives. Just as the IRL Puritans seemed to disdain any kind of Christian teachings of love, community, and acceptance in favour of control, guilt, and hating thy neighbour, the “Puritans” seem to derive their politics solely from a sense of guilt and control, and relish in attacking those who are not Woker Than Thou.

The average Online Puritan is far more concerned with cancelling other progressives than they are with opposing evil in this world. Opposing reactionaries? Nah, that might actually do something. Let’s just attack other progressives, and then wonder why people don’t seem eager to support our causes. Opposing people who are actually making the lives of LGBT people worse in tangible ways? Pfft, that would take work. Hey, let’s nitpick every form of art that displays anything remotely shitty, because clearly, depicting shitty things in art or consuming art with dark themes means that you actually want to do those things in the real world. Hey, let’s all dogpile this queer creator who is trying to convert alt-right shitlords to the good side of history! Surely, that’ll advance our cause!

Hell, I think there’s something to that comparison, because at the heart of both groups is the idea of the Elect and the Reprobates. An unfortunate aspect of modern western culture is that we tend to believe that people are good or evil at heart. This is a really dumb idea. Good and evil are not things that we are; they’re things that we do. We perform good acts and evil acts upon this world, and when I say “we,” I mean all of us. Sometimes, I see people who otherwise do really good things for the world do something really stupid. Sometimes, otherwise monstrous people do good stuff.

But if we believe that some are Elect and others are Reprobates, then that paradigm is impossible. The Elect cannot sin, and since it is a sin to not believe yourself one of the Elect, then you must enforce this law upon all others. If they sin, they are a Reprobate. Alternatively, you must work hard to explain why what they just did wasn’t actually a sin, so they’re still good, actually!

This, right here, is cancel culture. It isn’t accurately calling out people who have done legitimately evil things. It isn’t attempting to get predatory people out of the community. It’s this dichotomy between the Elect and the Reprobates, and the need to constantly enforce that We Are The Elect and that All Who Do Not Match Up Are Reprobates. No willingness to admit the recovering shitheads who might not fully grasp the issue without some help. No consideration that people who do minor stupid things might just need gentle correction to set them on the righteous path. Nope, none of that. Any sin makes you a Reprobate, and Reprobates Must Be Purged.

I should stop beating around the bush. The Online Puritans descended, because apparently, “we should consider how this makes people feel” means, “asking for a person’s pronouns is personally attacking me.” In other words, Natalie was now a Reprobate.

What followed was Natalie clarifying her point and even attempting to throw her critics a bone, suggesting that she wasn’t as considerate as she needed to be about the ways that non-binary people would interpret her words. The response was unchanging. Other leftists came to her defense, but they were, of course, Cancelled as well, as I am sure to be the second that people discover this post. Eventually, Natalie deleted her Twitter, and the Online Puritans rejoiced at another Reprobate driven off of Twitter like it was any real victory. 

Now, this is not the death of Contrapoints. She still has her channel, and a shitload of people who will continue to watch her content, like me. But a woman who, in my personal opinion, is a force for good in this shithole we call the internet, was essentially driven off of a social media platform because the Puritans decided that she was a Reprobate.

And to anyone who wants to declare me a Reprobate for making this post: go the fuck ahead. I am not perfect, and I am certainly not one of the Elect; hell, I’m no Calvinist, so I don’t even regard those as valid categories. And furthermore: you, the Elect, are as great a danger to progressive spaces as the reactionaries, because you force us to fight on two fronts. You force us to oppose each other, as opposed to standing together for the betterment of the world. And for fucks sake, is it too much to ask that the people who are getting fucked over the most by the current order should stand together in opposition to it?

So fuck it. I stand with Contrapoints. Puritans are cancelled.

[lilacmoon83]

Lightning in a Bottle

Also on Fanfiction.net and A03

Chapter 2: Re-Entry

April 13th, 2014

Flight eight two eight had taken off from Jamaica without incident and they had been in flight for a few hours now. They were probably nearing New York by now and he smiled at his son, who had his headphones on and was watching a movie. He glanced over at Emma and rolled his eyes.

"MM's not wrong," he mentioned. She gave him an annoyed look at that.

"Don't start," she warned. He sighed.

"Say yes to Killian. Get married, have a honeymoon, and be happy. Trust me, it's the best thing ever," he said. She sighed and kept looking at the ring. She closed the box and was about to send a text to her boyfriend that would make him very happy when the plane shuddered. The distress didn't stop there though and they suddenly experienced an intense amount of turbulence. So much so that a laptop belonging to another young woman slipped off her tray and busted. David clutched his son tightly, wondering if the worst might be happening. But after a few harrowing minutes, the turbulence seemed to end fairly quickly and the plane lights came up again.

"Sorry about that, folks...we hit a bit of turbulence, but we came through it just fine. We ask that you remain seated with your seat belts on though and we should be coming into New York shortly," the Captain said. David breathed a sigh of relief and checked his phone, intending to text his wife. But he frowned, as he found he had no service.

"Seriously? No service?" Emma asked.

"Same," he said, as the flight attendant picked up the laptop a few seats back.

"I'm sorry, I hope there was nothing important on that," she apologized. The woman sighed.

"Not at all...just a lifetime of research and work," the woman commented, but still managed a kind smile for the flight attendant. It wasn't her fault, after all. She moved on and kept attending to the passengers, who started to get restless. They were obviously in New York airspace, but seemed to be doing circles in the sky instead of landing.

"What is going on?" Emma wondered, but she was answered when the pilot came back over the intercom.

"Sorry folks, we're going to be a bit longer. I'm afraid we've been diverted upstate," the Captain told them. There were sighs and groans from many, but their plane soon landed a little while later. Emma noticed that the airport appeared to be much smaller and possibly military, which was a bit disturbing.

"What is it?" David asked.

"I'm...I'm not sure yet," she replied, as the pilot came over the intercom again.

"Ladies and Gentlemen...I'm afraid we've been asked to disembark the plane on the tarmac," the pilot announced.

"Cool…" Henry said, as David looked at his sister.

"Okay...this is officially weird," Emma said, as they did as they were told and found themselves in a cluster before what looked like some government officials, all one hundred and twenty passengers.

"Ladies and Gentlemen...can I please have your attention," a shorter man in a suit said, as he stepped forward. It was a bit odd, because he didn't strike David as someone that was with the government. He didn't look like he belonged at all with the others, but then the government was known for bringing in outside contractors to deal with situations that were beyond their specialties. Though David couldn't ascertain what situation they were supposedly embroiled in.

He thought, at first, maybe there was a fugitive on board or something. But that was not at all what this felt like and the passengers were starting to get restless.

"What's going on?" David asked.

"Yeah...what's with all the covert crap?" Emma asked. The man before them allowed himself a small smile. Less than sixty seconds and two leaders had already clearly emerged in all this. He had no idea exactly what was going on, but he had been fascinated by it all the moment the news had broken. This was what he had been waiting for and why he was called in. He was a master of the unknown and unexplained. And finally, there was a true mystery he could sink his teeth into. If this was what he thought it to be...it was life altering and world shattering. Nothing was going to be the same.

"I'll answer your questions, but first...I have one for you, Mr. Nolan," the man said in an accented voice, as he looked at his copy of the manifest, which was complete with photo identification.

"Fine, but maybe you can tell us who the hell you are?" David countered. The man allowed himself another small smirk.

"My name is Roman Gold and I have been brought in to...consult on this most significant occurrence," he said.

"And my question to all of you is...what day do you think it is?" he asked. David and Emma exchanged a glance and then looked back at him.

"It's April 13th," David answered.

"Of what year?" he asked, causing David to narrow his gaze at him suspiciously.

"It's 2014...what the hell is this?" Emma asked.

"I'm sorry, but you are both wrong. Today, is November 11th, 2019 and all of you...have been missing for five and a half years," he announced, stunning them all to speechlessness…

~*~

What happened next was endless hours of questions for which the NSA wanted answers for and the passengers had none to give. The most brutal questioning, of course, came for the Captain, who was just as perplexed as the passengers. But it was clear to him that the NSA held him suspect in the entire situation. They always blamed the Captain. He had been one long enough to know that.

David was extremely agitated in his interview as well. Since the moment he heard that he had been gone five and a half years, all he could think about was taking Henry and getting home to Margaret and Olive.

"Look...I don't know what you want from me. You say it's been five years, but it was only hours to us. But if it really has been that long...I need to get home to my wife," David insisted.

"As you can imagine, a plane reappearing out of nowhere after five and a half years is quite a story. Once the story hits the press, we will be consumed by an unprecedented media storm," Gold warned.

"I don't care! You don't understand and this is going to sound corny and sappy, but I need to get to my wife. I need to get our son to her. I need to get to my daughter. If it really has been that long...then they deserve nothing less. My wife and I...we don't do well apart," he explained, as he started to tear up.

"She's...she's my soulmate and I'm hers. It's been only a few hours for me and I miss her so badly that it hurts my heart! Can you imagine what she must be feeling?" he asked.

"Mr. Nolan…" the African American man, Vance, whom he had learned was the director of the NSA and the man that had brought Gold into consult, started to say. But Gold put his hand up, signaling him to stop. Normally, he couldn't imagine the director of the NSA allowing himself to be silenced by anyone, but he seemed to go quiet for this man. This Roman Gold seemed to command power over this whole thing.

"I understand and you'll soon be going home to your fair wife, but these questions are necessary. The plane disappeared, none of you aged a day, and five years later...you're back. Naturally, we must know what happened," Gold stated.

"So that's it? Are we all going to be put in some government lab to be poked and prodded like some lab rats?" David hissed. Gold allowed himself another smirk. He liked this one and there was something about him. Out of all the passengers, somehow it was clear that this would be the family to watch.

"No, Mr. Nolan...there will be no locking up anyone and soon, you'll all be going home. The story is going to break momentarily and soon, many families will be showing up to claim loved ones. I have no doubt that your fair Margaret will be among them," Gold said.

"Can I have a word with you?" Vance hissed, as he stood up and went to speak to him out of earshot.

"We are not cleared to release these people into the public. This is a matter of national security," Vance whispered

"Then you had better clear it up quickly, director...because while some may have moved on with their lives and left these loved ones behind, there will be those that run here at top speed when they hear," Gold said.

"There is no stopping any of this now and since we cannot find an actual crime here, you cannot lock up innocent people against their will," he continued.

"Oh, I suppose you can and have the power to do so, but I don't advise it. I will say that if we want answers...then releasing them is the only option," he added. Vance didn't look at all comfortable with that idea, but did not deny any of it. Gold was right

~*~

Her breathing came in ragged gasps, as she flew out of the car the moment they were admitted through the gates. Her eyes scanned the tarmac and her feet pounded the pavement, as she ran inside the terminal like she had never run before. She saw him and everything else around her faded away. It was true. He had come back to her. The news reports were calling it impossible and some even suggested it was something to be fearful of. But to her...this was nothing short of the greatest miracle she could have ever imagined.

"DAVID!" she called and his head turned to her, as he ran to scoop her into his arms. At that point, she became a sobbing mess, as she never thought she'd know the feel of being in his arms again. When they finally pulled back, with her still sobbing almost uncontrollably, he finally pressed his lips to hers and everything was right again in her world with just that one gesture.

When they finally parted, she saw her son there, still ten-years-old, just as Olive and Robert caught up to them.

"Mom…" Henry said, as she knelt down and started sobbing once again. She hugged him tightly and looked to the sky, thanking whatever deity or force had made this possible.

~*~

"DAVID!"

The sound of her voice made his heart skip a beat. It always had and always would. He scooped her up, as she began sobbing against his shoulder. It was finally hitting him that, while it had only been hours for him, it had been five years for her and he couldn't imagine how hard it had been for her. When he finally pulled back to look at her, seeing the pain behind the happiness and relief in her eyes nearly crushed him. But he took her in his arms again, as she always told him that it helped her in their worst of times, and pressed his lips against hers in the most passionate kiss ever. As always, when they were together, everyone else faded away.

Finally, their lips parted and he watched her with tears in his eyes, as she sobbed and took their son in her arms. As he turned his head though, it was his turn to nearly break down crying, as his little girl stood before him, five years older than just a few hours ago.

"Olive…" he uttered, as she sniffed.

"Dad…" she cried, as he hugged her tightly, stunned to speechlessness and he cradled her head. His father hugged them next and he looked around. He expected Killian to be there for Emma, but he wasn't. He could see the questions in his baby sister's eyes, but she said nothing.

"Oh Emma…" Margaret gushed, as she pulled back from a hug with her and the shorter, raven haired beauty held onto her best friend tightly for a few moments. There were so many questions, but they were a family again and no matter what others suggested, their return was nothing short of a miracle to the Nolan family.

The ride home was surreal and he felt trepidation, as it seemed there were already news vans camped out near their house. That was going to be fun. He hoped it faded quickly, but he knew better than that. Planes that disappeared didn't just come back with one hundred and twenty missing people after five years. Honestly, he didn't really know what to think. But he knew that was hard for people to swallow. He saw the fear and skepticism in people's eyes already. Except in Margaret's. His wife honestly didn't care how or why they were suddenly back. She had them back and she was taking it as a second chance. They still had a lot to talk about, but that would come. Love was the easy part for them, so everything else would come and they would face it together.

The house looked mostly the same, with a few minor differences, but it didn't seem like his wife had changed much at all. They had so much to figure out now. He obviously had no job anymore and would have to now find one. He had a feeling that the Universities out there might be reluctant to hire a dead man.

But firstly, tomorrow they would need to return to the hospital and unfortunately have Henry evaluated. The cancer was still very real and he had no idea how they were going to deal with it now, especially his wife. Why did she get to have him back if only to soon lose him again? No one should be expected to lose a child once, let alone twice and he ached for her in that respect. He honestly didn't know how they were going to survive it, even together.

After they got the kids to bed, mainly their son, they retired to their bedroom and he admired the family photos that lined the hallway on the way there. She had never taken them down and there was no trace of anyone else. He was both relieved and curious about that.

"You have questions," she surmised.

"Reading my mind as always?" he teased and she smiled back.

"We always seem to be able to do that with each other and if I have to guess...you're wondering why I haven't moved on or if there was ever anyone else," she said. He looked down.

"I wouldn't blame you. If I really was gone...I'd want you to be happy again," he told her.

"I know...but I already got my one happy ending with you," she said, as she closed the distance between them.

"Not many girls get to say they got the fairy tale...but I did and nothing could ever top it," she replied.

"I did try dating after a couple years, mostly so people would just stop pushing me. But none of them were you and it was so awkward and weird," she explained.

"It was never like that with us…" she said, as she caressed his face.

"If you're worried that I've somehow forgotten what it was to be us...or that my love for you is somehow out of practice...you can stop worrying," she whispered and he let out a breath of relief he hadn't known he was holding.

"Because I never moved on and I never will. I know they're are things going on that we don't understand and this isn't going away. But I don't care about any of it. I just care that I got you back and I'm not going to waste any time with this second chance," she said, as he crushed his lips against hers. They pulled back from the kiss and she lifted his arms, so he could pull her blouse over her head. Their lips met again and she undid the buttons on his shirt, quickly divesting him of the offending garment. Her heart skipped a beat, as he swept her into his arms, something he had always done and something she thought was forever lost to her, and carried her the short distance to the bed. Their marriage bed. The bed that had been cold and lonely for five and a half long years. But that long, agonizing time was at an end and he had defied time, space, the laws of physics and even death to find her again. Everyone else in the world was fixated on the how and why, but she could care less. Her wish had become reality and even if it meant that their lives would never be normal again, she didn't care as long as she could spend the rest of her life in his arms. Whatever awaited them out in the world could wait, for they would deal with it and face it together. But tonight, the world would be shut out and only their reignited love and passion mattered at that moment.

[adsguideinfo30-blog]

How Home Improvement Companies Use Paid Search Ads to Find Customers

As we approach the summer months, homeowners are busy making plans to improve their homes and property. And with more people working from home than ever this year, a lot of homeowners are very eager to make their homes as comfortable and beautiful as possible. If you own a home improvement company, you're making plans to target homeowners with digital marketing so they choose YOU for all of their home improvement needs. With that in mind, here's how home improvement companies can use paid search ads to find customers.

Why should home improvement companies use paid search ads to find customers?

Paid search is an effective marketing strategy for a variety of businesses hoping to target potential customers. For home remodelers and other home improvement companies, it can be difficult to stand out from a crowded field. With paid search, you help increase the chances of showing up at the top of a potential customers' search results and growing your business. But your paid search ad campaign needs to be done right in order to be effective.

What are paid search ads?

With paid search ad campaigns, you're specifically targeting internet users who are searching for something related to your business. Let's say someone searches "roof remodel." Roof remodeling companies would use paid search ads to display an ad for their business when someone enters related search terms and keywords. This varies from other forms of ad campaigns. For example, display ads show up on other websites while someone is browsing unrelated content. They're often used as a remarketing or retargeting effort. They can increase brand awareness and visibility, but they don't serve quite the same purpose as a paid search campaign. Another great thing about paid search ads is that they can be done in a pay-per-click fashion. That means home improvement companies can bid for ad placement in a search engine's sponsored links for keywords related to your home improvement. Then, your business pays the search engine (often through Google Ads) a small fee for each click. Now, here's how to put these ad campaigns to work for you.

How home improvement companies can use paid search to target potential customers

  Define your target market

Optimize your website for user experience and SEO

Create your ad campaigns

Identify your target market

The first thing your home improvement company needs to do is define your target market. This involves getting really specific about the potential customers you have the highest chance of converting into paying customers. Here are a few ways to do this:

Consider your current customers and their demographics. Chances are, those same demographics will be useful in targeting new customers. Some of the demographics to look at include age, stage of life, spending patterns, location, and interests.

Check out your competition. Look at their current customer base and see how it differs from yours and what they're doing to build their business.

Utilize social media analytics. Take a look at your social media followers. This is another way to learn about your customer demographics, as well as identifying people who MIGHT be interested in your services.

Create a target market report. This report will include all of the information you've compiled in one neat and tidy place. That way, you'll have all of the information in one place when you need it to create paid search ads. Reports can assess where your traffic and leads are coming from, what content they interacted with, if and when they converted, and how long it took for them to become a customer, essentially each step of the marketing funnel. We break down how to build a marketing report in this post.

Optimize your website

Is optimizing your website for SEO and user experience REALLY that important? Take a look at some of these surprising statistics about consumers and websites, and you'll see why the answer is a big YES:

It takes about 50 milliseconds (that's 0.05 seconds) for users to form an opinion about your website that determines whether they like your site and if they'll stay.

An estimated 87% of shoppers begin product/service searches online

57% of internet users say they wouldn't recommend a business with a poorly designed website on mobile

88% of online consumers are less likely to return to a site after a bad experience

98% of shoppers have been dissuaded from completing a purchase because of incomplete or incorrect content on a company's site

Each of these statistics underscores the importance of having a website that is, a) aesthetically pleasing, b) optimized for user experience (including making it mobile friendly), and, c) SEO optimized, so consumers are more likely to find your page in the first place. Now that you know how important it is to optimize your website for SEO and user experience, here are some resources for doing just that:

7 Fundamentals That Every Link Building Strategy Needs

2020 SEO Trends That Will Influence Your Business

Using Long-Tail Keywords to Rank on Google

Of course, the team at Blue Water Marketing is here to help every step of the way. Our company has designed a search engine optimization service that is both ethical and result-driven. We use the latest tools, strategies, and trends to help you move up in the search engines for the right keywords to get noticed by the right audience. Learn more here.

Create ad campaigns

Now it's time to create paid search ad campaigns! First, you'll choose your keywords. This information can come from the marketing report and research you've done while you identified your target market. You'll want to include a mix of short-tail and long-tail keywords. For example, "roof repair" and "roof repair Stuart Florida." (For more on using long-tail keywords to rank on Google, click here) Now you'll want to structure your account by creating ad groups. These groups contain one or multiple ads meant to target similar markets. You can organize ad groups under categories based on their theme, or the product/service it's related to, for example. Google also shares plenty of information for creating and managing ad groups. Consider the timing of your ads. If your business doesn't operate in the winter, you won't want to use as much of your budget on ad spend as you would in the summer. In addition to targeting peak times of the year, you can also optimize your ads to show during peak times of the day or days of the week when your target market is likely to be searching. Finally, it's time to write, modify, and test your ad copy. You need to create effective calls to action (CTAs) that encourage internet users to click on your ad. We've put together six pieces of our favorite advice for making landing pages/paid search ads that convert so you can get your products or services to more people. Find them here.

Digital marketing help

We know you're busy running your home improvement company, and you might not have the time you need to focus on your digital marketing efforts. But that's why we're here to help! Our digital marketing strategy is built on the foundation of driving measurable results. We take a full-circle approach to online marketing with a focus on increasing conversions, repeat traffic, and generating greater brand loyalty. Contact Blue Water Marketing today if that sounds like exactly what you're looking for!

[trulyhumblenarcissist]

Hannibal or Hannigram

Well.. Unfortunately this amusing journey has come to an end. Yesterday I watched Hannibal's last episode and I am still hooked on it.

I'm not a quiet media consumer, I literally devour everything I like (lol), the faster the better. However I wish I was more disciplined and patient this time around, since Hannibal is such a deep and complex work you can't just binge watch it. If you're too hasty you'll end up missing some key points, affecting the whole experience. Every single line the main characters share is full of double meanings, layers on layers of lies and half truths that force you to constantly question your level of understanding.

The light is rarefied, usually diffuse rather than direct, the colors are cool-toned, never loud, with the exception of some intense flashes of red and orange. This contributes to create a deliberately somnolent, dreamlike atmosphere that accompanies the spectator through a meticulous, yet poetic inspection of the human unconscious.

The main subject of analysis is Will Graham, a man so skilled in understanding others the he usually loses himself. His "pure emphaty" is both a gift and a burden, something that makes him probably the most innocent being on hearth, a compassionate and merciful human mirror incapable of really condemn anyone, because he's too prone to wear other skins, even if they belong to serial killers.

On the other hand we have Hannibal Lecter, an extremely conscious and self aware man that uses his strong personality as a defense and attack tool. He secludes his real self into a fake human suit, impervious to any intrusion. This perfect camufflage that acts like a solid shield allows him to undermine  other people without being affected. Hannibal is basically the crafty puppet master always in control, while Will needs to be "contaminated" by humanity in order to better comprehend it. Apart from this fundamental difference, however, Will and Hannibal are tremendously similar. Both intelligent and condemned by an overly lucid vision of reality, they "feel things" deeply and can read the minds of other people as printed books. Many common traits attract these two men in a way that seems almost fatal.

Hannibal is soon interested in Will, although initially it is a simple professional curiosity: Will's mind and his peculiar functioning are a frequent topic of conversation in psychiatric circles. Doctors and psychologists wonder whether Will is a genius or a psychopath. Hannibal's approach is completely different. He doesn't seek a demarcation line between madness and sanity, he doesn't believe in psychotherapy either, or at least, he refuses the concept of a treatment that makes people more willing to be subjected to social conventions and morality. Hannibal is definitely a master manipulator, but I don't think he has ever wanted to "shape" his patients. He aims for their darkest fantasies and fuels them, trying to bring them to light. His therapy is like wearing a pair of corrective lenses: you put them on and you see things you originally didn't notice because you couldn't focus well. Things that had ALWAYS been there, in your deepest core, denied and soffocated by fear and shame. Hannibal's velvety voice is never imperative, it drives without force, it creates a sort of psychological malleability that allows you to find your true self, no matter how ugly it is, and leads to catharsis, unlimited freedom and inevitable destruction.

Without any moral qualms everything becomes possible and God himself turns from Judge to loving ally.

On a metaphorical bed of twisted personalities, the troubled relationship between Will and Hannibal develops harshly. It can be considered the true and only protagonist of the story. A LOVEstory in all respects, filled with courtship, burning passion, fear and desire for the other, tenderness, betrayal, redemption... Death.

Honestly I was pretty surprised by how much this mad love between Hannibal and Will seemed "right" to me. There is nothing canonically healthy in their relationship, yet they both find their own safe place in the other. At the end of the day, shouldn't love be just like that? Ideally, love should allow us to acknowledge our most intimate nature, through the expression of desires that we would never reveal to anyone else. Love should make us feel safe and confident thanks to the reassuring awareness of being perfectly understood and accepted for what we are, no filters, no shame. In reality, however, we keep some barriers to protect ourselves and our loved ones. Boundaries makes life apparently easier, creating a comfort zone where we can recognize our intact individuality and protect it from contamination and excessive exposure. Humanity is just as coward as that... But wouldn't it be nice to leave everything behind, every defense, every fiction, every useless embellishment? Wouldn't it be nice to competely surrender to the other (desire becomes surrender and surrender becomes power)? Will's answer to this question is yes, but only after a very rough path.

The first season is characterized by a strong relational asymmetry. Will is completely succube, he is sick and vulnerable, so he is eventually imprisoned for crimes committed by Hannibal. With the second season reality begins to be completely blurred. We are kept in anxious waiting, trying to find out if Will has truly become a killer without remorse, but in reality the most radical transformation is Hannibal's. Such a huge metamorphosis projects itself subtly under our eyes and we're too focused on other things to effectively catch it. 

Hannibal lets himself being fooled by Will's farce, he dangerously lowers his defenses and, as it happens to any "common" human being, he falls in love. He falls in love so deeply he begins to project a future with Will, far away from everything and everyone, the two of them caught in an everlasting artistic battle against this vulgar world. Actually the romantic family portrait in Hannibal's fantasies involves two fathers (murderous husbands as Freddie Lounds would say) and a daughter to protect and educate. Abigail represents communion, affection and heredity. All of this comes to a cruel end when Hannibal discovers Will's true intentions. Well, technically Will himself tells Hannibal to run away, but this is not nearly enough to what Hannibal wished for. He was laying bare in front of Will and Will ignored his feelings, or at least he violated his trust.

The third season leads us to a full closure. After a short period of separation Will and Hannibal meet again. They try to get rid of the yoke that binds them through different and useless attempts to kill each other. At some point the end up  escaping death together and Will, full of doubts and consumed by a deep discomfort, allows Hannibal to flee. He asks Hannibal never to look for him again and assures that he would do the same. This is Hannibal's equivalent to a terrible defeat, another painful rejection that drives him to a drastic decision: he lets himself being captured so that Will will always know where to find him.

The yoke is still there, around their throats, more lush but equally heavy.

Will tries his best to lead a normal life, he marries a nice woman and even takes the role of the perfect foster parent, but after three years of relative tranquility, the great red dragon makes its appearance and the fragile veil of stability is torn from its sharp claws. The great red dragon is a formidable catalyst: it symbolizes passion and raw nature, eroticism, primordial impulses that  express themselves freely, away from the inquisitive eye of the Christian God.

Francis Dolarhyde physically drags Will to a point of no return, he forces Will to decide who should be saved and Will chooses: the last fig leaf rushes to the ground leaving him completely naked and finally free. Will kills the great red dragon that was an almost perfect work of personality construction and by doing so, he acquires enough power to finally abandon the "idea of ​​duty", the preconceived dimension of right and wrong. He embraces both Hannibal and himself at the same time, he forgives and fully understans the indomabile force of his feelings for Hannibal: by loving him he truly loves himself.

"It's beautiful": Will whispers full of emotion, soaked in blood, dark like the night, clinging to freedom and new awareness. He finds his peace after a terrible journey, he finds it in Hannibal and in the stormy waters of the Atlantic Ocean.

I don't think it's possible to write a more poetic death for this two fatal lovers... Hannibal finally reaches Will with the power of his endless, loving stare and Will accepts it as an anchor of salvation that drags him into a place of absolute spontaneity and security, the true paradise on earth.

[thesimplyluxuriouslife]

211: How to Stay Relevant in Our Ever-Changing World & Embrace Each Year More than the Last

~The Simple Sophisticate, episode #211

~Subscribe to The Simple Sophisticate: iTunes | Stitcher | iHeartRadio | YouTube

In America we have the story that ... your sex drive evaporates. ... Nobody wants to sleep with you, but you don't want to sleep with them either. ... And it turns out that that is really much more of a cultural story than a biological story, and ... people's behavior responds to this cultural story. ...

In France there's a slightly different narrative. ... Women in their 50s and 60s in France are much more sexually active than women in America are. So I don't think you can ... snap your fingers and switch cultural narratives. But just knowing that it's not biologically inevitable I think gives you some power over it." —Pamela Druckerman, author of the new book There Are No Grown-Ups: A Midlife Coming-of-Age Story (read the entire NPR interview here)

Over the past four or five years I have taken notice of how women step into each year of their life after forty. Whether women who are in my inner circle or women in the media spotlight, I listen to how they speak about their physical capabilities, their physical beauty, their curiosities, their chapters in life, the roles and careers they wish to stay or become a part of. As someone who is 39 and has truly let my age just be a number, not centering my identity around my age as it is one detail I cannot control (sometimes I forget my age, does that happen to anyone else?), I am intrigued in the shift in what is expected of women by women - and thus society -  as they age through the decades. Because our message to each other has power, and that message in large part tells the world what will be accepted or ignored. As someone bringing up the tail-end of Generation X and partially straddling into the Millennial Generation, I certainly have seen a shift in the knowledge and thus attention to good health when it comes to fitness and well-being as opposed to my grandmother's generation. A tremendous shift in society in the late 20th century brought to our attention what our bodies and minds are truly capable of so long as we care for them well. I think of Ruth Bader Ginsburg and her whip-smart, savvy prowess on the Highest Court in the country at the age of 85. I think of Dame Helen Mirren who at the age of 72 continues to playfully immerse herself in her acting career and her life as she explores the world. I think of 52-year old Oscar winning actress Viola Davis and her determination and talent on the big screen and small screen, as well as her physical good health and Sandra Bullock as well as Cate Blanchett and Michelle Obama and Diane Keaton and and and and . . . the list goes on. Each one of these women marries knowledge with curiosity and applies it to their mental as well as physical health. Physical maladies can certainly befall us due to genetics, but there is far more health obstacles that are avoidable so long as we provide ourselves with the information and live in such a way to be preventative. Two situations happened over the past couple of years that found me responding in frustration internally, but saying nothing in the moment. The first was a situation with my own mother and my young pre-teen niece in which my mother said something about what was physically inevitable when you hit "her age". In actuality, what she shared was false, and I later did say something in private to my mom as I am someone who has heard such "untruths" from older women when I was young. I know now that what they shared was their ignorance regarding how the body grows and ages, but I didn't want my niece to have to navigate toward to the truth when the knowledge was readily available. The second situation is an ongoing one as I have a dear friend who refuses to say her age or acknowledge her birthday as her husband told me she is "sensitive about her age". While I respected this wish, I also want her to know how much I want to celebrate her because I think she is absolutely amazing, talented and uber intelligent. The truth is if we as women will let go of identifying ourselves with our age, then half of the world will stop seeing us through the narrow lens of assumption regarding what "should be" happening at a particular point. We all know that with different people, different things happen at different periods of our lives. Case in point, actress Rachel Weisz is pregnant at 48, yet press in the U.K. is fearful it may be nearly too late for Meghan Markle to conceive. Are you kidding me? What we consume or accept as a culture can either limit us or liberate us. What we allow to be accepted because we do not contradict it when we know it is utterly false will continue to be perpetuated. We can either speak up or act in such a way that demonstrates the falsehoods are indeed false. Each of us will choose what is most comfortable for us - speaking or acting, but I implore you to not shrink to fit inside the limiting box that society would have women at any age stay within. Part of the difficulty with staying relevant, man or woman, is staying apprised of the dynamic world we live in. With each year we are layering more information on top of what we already know and in so doing we become acutely aware of how much we still have to learn. It can become overwhelming. It happened this year as a teacher who began teaching at 22 and knew how to relate culturally with the students - the music, the films, the colloquialisms, each far simpler to grasp and understand because I was partially still in their bubble - that I acknowledged and took note that I could be considered two generations removed from my students. While I still understood some of the references made by students, there were cultural allusions that no more my students grasped (the 80s hit sitcom Cheers, for example). While some cult classics are returning and being devoured by teenagers thanks to Netflix and YouTube - FRIENDS, The Joy of Painting with Bob Ross on PBS, etc. - but after listening to different podcasts my students will bring my attention to or music my students will mention in class, I am reminded that we all live and will always live in a dynamic world. And the key is to understand how to remain involved, knowledgable and curious instead of quailing, shrinking or removing ourselves due to fear or confusion or exhaustion.

How to remain a part of the ever-changing world:

1. Build a social network of all ages

One of the benefits of teaching is that there is youth everywhere each and every year. While yes, it's kind of like Groundhog's Day (the film), the benefits far outweigh the negatives as I am reminded that learning is always available if we choose to seize the knowledge and therefore change is perpetually constant. Progress is always possible and staying the same is never a good idea if we wish to reach our full potential. And so why not build friendships, acquaintances, mentor or mentee relationships with individuals of all ages? When we do and do so with an open mind, our perspective is broaden, our understanding deepens and we come to appreciate where we've been, how far we've come or become even more excited about where we are heading.

2. Refrain from ageist comments (younger or older) 

The quickest way to shut-down an opportunity to get to know someone is to make assumptions about what is expected at a certain age. When we do this, instead of seeing the individual and being patient enough to get to know the individual, we are telling them (consciously or unconsciously), who they truly are and who they are capable of becoming is not all that important to us. As well, when we make ageist comments we perpetuate limitations that we ourselves will eventually be subjected to. In other words, we have the power with the words we do or do not utter to change how society views anyone at any age.

3. Master your mind and cultivate a positive mindset

“When it comes to staying young, a mind-lift beats a face-lift any day.” ~Marty Buccella

Providence, St. Joseph Health shares, "Negativity saps vitality and creates stress, which affects your health and well-being." So literally, by being cynical, negative or close-minded, we are exacerbating the aging process and making ourselves physically older unnecessarily.

4. Let go of the word "should"

Whether speaking to others and expressing what you think they "should" be doing or the internal dialogue that runs through your head saying you "should" be doing something in your life at any given point, stop. Nobody wants to hear what they should be doing. Instead inspire others to do something with how you live your life or simply let them navigate their way in their own way.

5. Seek out diverse experiences that stretch you

Whether with the places you travel to, the food you eat, the books you read, the podcasts you listen to or the people you engage with in conversation, let your curiosity be fed. Often the reason individuals regress into what they've known and the "way it has always been" or "when I was younger" constructs and wish to stay there is because they are fearful of the unknown. What they know is comfortable, and we all somewhere along the continuum want comfort. However, too often, when we don't know about a particular culture, a particular way of life that becomes more prevalent in society due to news coverage or a change in economic structure, until we explore, prompts people to make limiting assumptions that shrink our world. The world is big, vast, amazing and from my experience here on the blog and in my own travels meeting people from around the world, the majority of us are seeking contentment, love and peace. This may sound over-simplified, but truly, our general goal is the same, it is a matter of having the courage to keep asking questions, keep making ourselves vulnerable and recognize that we do not have all the answers and respecting all people as they too are trying to figure it out.

How to enjoy each passing year more than the last:

1. Learn something new regularly

“For the unlearned, old age is winter; for the learned, it is the season of the harvest.”   ~Hasidic saying

I have seen the deterioration of one's mind in late age when a particular octogenarian who prided himself on having only read one book in his life gradually sees the quality of his life diminish. Knowledge is power in not only understanding how to live, but in keeping ourselves vibrant and able to engage with the world fully. Studies have recently been shared that regular cognitive challenges - problem-solving, learning a new skills, in other words brain exercises - are good for brain health. It is something we keep alive or by not giving it "homework" passively let wither away. Once we have the knowledge and understand how to continue to acquire it as we move through life, then we can apply it and see the benefits of the efforts we've made - thus the harvest. So keep planting seeds and continue to see your harvest become richer and richer with each passing year.

2. Choose to understand the world

Providing context as to why events happened, why people made the decisions they made and why people reacted as they did deepens not only our understanding of the world but also how to move and live successfully in it so as to live a life we are proud to share with the world as well as reflect upon.  Never settle for one person's version of events, explore, ask questions, pick up a biography of someone else who lived in that time, read a historical account from multiple perspectives and come to understand that the world isn't simple, events aren't a singular cause and effect, but more often a confluence of causes that create the outcome that after some time has passed becomes simplified into a singular soundbite. As well, come to understand the social sciences - psychology and sociology and how people interact with others, how our minds work, how our bodies work regarding hormones, endorphins, adrenaline, etc. Choosing to understand the full human experience paired with the events of the world that led us to where we as a world are today is empowering and can assist us as we figure out how we wish to move forward.

3. Contribute to the world 

In another study, it demonstrated that we must live in such a way that goes beyond giving, or "feeling useful"; we must take action so as to do something that leaves the world better than when we found it. Taking action will be different for each of us, but just giving of our time to help the next generation isn't enough (it's a start). Sometimes taking action will not be comfortable for those around us. Sometimes it will not be comfortable to us as we will have to push ourselves to learn something new, shift our views and understanding about something we had become accustomed to but now we realize we were wrong, misled or misinformed. But when we find a purpose that fuels us, that we truly have a passion for, we will find the fuel to push forward. And in pushing forward, the example we share with the world will potentially alter how society comes to understand what is possible at any given age. 4. Let go of negative stereotypes and stop perpetuating them regardless of your age

“Age is no barrier. It’s a limitation you put on your mind.” ~Jackie Joyner-Kersee

A study conducted at Yale revealed that "older adults who held more positive age stereotypes lived 7.5 years longer than their peers who held negative age-related stereotypes". Not only should we shift away from negative age stereotypes we should stop burdening others with these beliefs as well. Whether it is our observation and commentary about strangers on the street, in the store or mere acquaintances, refrain from defaulting to ageist remarks (about those older or younger than you). When we assume, we limit what we are willing to explore as we get to know people, and I am confident none of us would want to be limited.

5. Revel in each year

“The trouble is, when a number—your age—becomes your identity, you’ve given away your power to choose your future.”  ~Richard J. Leider

Right now I am soaking up all that the remainder of my third decade on this glorious planet will share with me. As well, I am excited to enter into my fourth. When we choose to be present in our lives, we create memories that will always be with us. No we cannot go back and relive them literally, but we can in our memories and that is a gift we can take with us for any age we reach down the road. Each year has the opportunity to be your singular definition of what it is to be [pick a number]. And it is important to remember that that is your definition and yours alone. To place it on someone else and expect them to live the same as you is to limit what they may be curious about. On the flip side, embrace what you are curious about each year. Embrace what the universe has given to you in this particular year and drink it up like it was water in the desert. When you revel, you enliven your being and you share with the world your exuberance. That is how we shift age stereotypes.

6. Take the risk

Maybe you've had a dream in your mind for years, but you have never known anyone who took such a risk. At least not anyone in what you perceive to be your "situation". Let go of needed a model to follow. Let go of thinking the dream shall remain a dream and instead take the risk. Do the necessary homework and then give yourself permission to get so absolutely excited about living the life you have dreamed about. Yes, you can live that life. And that will enliven you like you never could have imagined. From time to time I will catch myself pushing back against progress when it finds me quite comfortable with where I am in my life (a state that is not always easy to attain for any one of us as we strive toward goals), and then I poke myself. It is at that moment that I remind myself that progress is good as it demonstrates to all of us that we are alive, the world is alive and has the capability of improving. Even when we think we are comfortable (as I have felt in those moments), we often are limiting what we understand to be possible in the quality of our lives. Often I do think part of the push back to progress is exhaustion (which is why it is imperative to get a regular night's sleep - I kid only slightly). Perhaps not physical, but emotional exhaustion as we have seen and experienced and worked for so much and we don't know if we have the energy to continue to strive, shift and improve like we have in the past. But that is when we need to seek out others who see the world and all of its potential as we do, and then we can find the energy we think has been lost. Thus another reason to build a social network of all ages. The world is greater with more diverse voices, lives and experiences. And with each year of our lives we deepen what we bring to the world so long as we continue to truly live each year we are given. ~SIMILAR POSTS FROM THE ARCHIVES YOU MIGHT ENJOY:

~Learn How to Truly Savor Everyday Moments & Watch It Elevate Your Life, episode #163

~26 Ways to Create the Life You Want

~Why Not . . . Extinguish Self-Doubt?

Petit Plaisir:

~fresh seasonal fruit, in my case most recently - Oregon strawberries

Recipes to try:

A fresh strawberry tart

Strawberry & Rhubarb Tartlet (or tart)

Homemade Ricotta Mousse with fresh strawberries (or your berry of choice)

~SPONSORS of Today’s Episode:

Troos skincare & apothecary – www.troosskin.com

promo code: SIMPLE for 30% off your purchase

Images: TSLL's Instagram

Tune in to the latest episode of The Simple Sophisticate podcast

[shinyalternatives]

Q&A with Simon Rose of Libidex

1)  Can you provide a short bio of your background in fashion?

I am Simon Rose, Libidex owner and creative director and co-founder. I have a Psychology degree from Lancaster University. I am an avid reader, world traveler and latex fashion trendsetter.

2)  How did you discover latex as a material to use in fashion?  Did you have a personal interest in wearing latex or what it just a material that you found interesting?

I grew up in a military family and from birth I was surrounded by uniforms, rubberized chemical warfare suits and gas masks (one of my favorite toys).  From there I discovered Atomage and early Skin Two magazine and everything fell into place.

3)   At what point did you decide to take your personal interest in latex and transition it to a vocation?

In 1994 I was working with English latex designer pioneer Helen Saffery at Libidex in London. The label was still in its infancy and earlier on I spotted a huge opportunity to take Libidex to the next level making it the fetish powerhouse that it is today.  

My inspiration came from the idea of offering customers, both fetish and fashion latex clothes in one place.

4)  A business has a number of things that one must deal with that sometimes dim one's passion.  You have rent, insurance, utilities, materials, employee salaries etc.  Is the market for latex adequate to balance the pressures of business?  What end of the market absorbs more time - the celebrity couture or the consumer market? How do you balance your passion for creativity with the need to be profitable?

Most certainly the consumer market.Celebrity endorsement doesn’t pay our bills in fact we turn away quite a few celebrity requests, from stylists, photographers etc. We just make sure we design popular items that are also creative, fresh and new.

5)  Latex can be described as a "Fetish," a "kink," "Alternative fashion" or simply "fashion" Do you prefer one description over another?

Whatever name people are comfortable with. I like Fetish better. Because that is what it is after all.

6)  It seems many latex outfits are designed to be body hugging.  I've heard latex referred to as a "Second Skin."  Do you agree that latex should be used for tight outfits or does it lend itself to "loose" outfits? If it's a "second skin" does it mean it needs to be worn without "undergarments"?  Does that intimidate people from wearing it?

Not necessarily as many designs in our range are loose fitting. For example, our Swing Circle Skirt or Rebelle Dress as well as our Pyjamas to name but a few. Not everyone like to be squeezed in on tight latex.

There are no rules and if there are, I live by the motto the rules are only there to be broken. If you feel freer wearing your latex with nothing underneath that is your own personal choice. The Scottish have done that for centuries. But if you prefer to have pants and bras under your latex garment and that makes you feel good, go for it!

7)  In your experience, how concerned are people concerned about body image when considering fashion choices.  Does latex, as a material, help or hinder these decisions?

Do you feel latex tend to express one's body with honesty as if is was no different than a "second skin" or is it more of a fashionable type of shapewear that fixes a person's perceived "flaws."

We have customer of all sizes and we cater for them offering a size range that goes from XXS to 6XL so you will always find something that will suit you. Everyone is different and some people prefer tight fitting catsuits and corsets and other want to be able to breath and be comfortable while wearing latex, so they should do whatever they feel the most comfortable with. Some people wear it for fetish and some for Fashion

8)  How do you find the market for latex wear distributed between men, women, cross-dressers (men or women), celebrity couture?

We probably sell a bit more for our male customers, but women buy a lot from us too as do the transgender community. We cater for everyone.

9)  What is your favorite piece of latex that you've created in your career for a man and for a woman?

Ummm that’s a hard one but one my most fun was My Black Betty catsuit which is for all sexes and trans.

10)  People can state that they don't like latex because of the smell, or   because the material doesn't breathe and they sweat to much, or because it's too tight or it makes them look like they're selling sex.   How do you address those concerns?

Latex is like marmite you either love or hate it. You can be converted into it by a loved one or a friend but mostly it like a fire that burns you up inside, an uncontrollable desire to dress head to toe in shiny latex.

11) What is your design philosophy?  What drives your creativity?

I have many different sources of inspiration, from classic literature, to films, music, art, period costumes, contemporary fashion.  The fetish scene in Europe and its many clubs and events is an endless font of inspiration. Seeing what people are wearing is a fun and fabulous way to come up with new designs and ideas.

12)  Less or More?  Do you prefer designing a latex outfit which is more on the revealing side or leaning towards full coverage.

It depends of the occasion, what collection I am working on. More is definitely more.

11) How do you feel is the best way to integrate latex into an everyday   "public" outfit.  How would you mix it with other materials?

Latex leggings can be beautifully paired with jackets, or a latex skirt with fabric blouse.  Guys can have a classic latex jenas in some funky colour with a cotton T-shirt.

12) What are your goals for your future in latex design?

To keep bringing, affordable,  exciting and innovative collections to our customers.

13)  What is your favorite part of being a latex fashion designer?

Designing new collections. The research process is very exciting.

14)  What is your “Blue Sky” accomplishment to achieve in the world of latex clothing or fashion in general?

From gluing my first suspender belt in 1990 to the present day, Libidex has had to overcome a huge number of challenges and obstacles. Every collection photographed and each of our fashion shows are always memorable moments. The fact that we are still here, bigger and better and appreciated by rubberists the world over, over 25 years later is what gets me out of bed with a smile on my face.

15)  President Franklin D. Roosevelt stated that "We have nothing to fear but fear itself."  People tend to be fearful of things that are different.  They express that fear thru aggressive or  demeaning behavior towards others to express that their position is superior.  Even without external pressure, a person can be fearful due to internal thoughts over how people will react.

This brings us to fashion.  You can say the more different something is from the norm, the more people will react negatively.

Do you agree with this?  Is latex "too different" from what is accepted fashion to be common place.  How much more extreme is it than wearing leather?  Women often wear leather to corporate jobs.  Is latex that   much more extreme?  Is men's latex wear more "extreme" than women's wear?

What do you say to someone who deep down would want to wear latex in Public settings?

This is 2017 and latex fashion is everywhere, Pop videos, TV, commercials, youtube, Instagram, social media have done wonders to remove the stigma associated to latex. And it all depends how you present it. Of course if you turn up in full Dominatrix gear you will raise the wrong kind of attention but if you wear something more fashion orientated, you could be fine even at your work place. Society is changing and so is people’s perception of latex wear.

No I don’t think men’s wear is more extreme than women’s at all.

Go for it, start with something bright and colourful, mix it up with something quirky and you will be fine.

16)  Women's clothing seems to have such variety.  Can men's latex be as interesting?  What are your thoughts on men's latex fashion?

Yes 100% men clothes can be exciting, varied and colourful.  The new Male fashion collection we are working on at the moment is a testament of that.

17) You have expanded your line greatly.  What drives the expansion?

Demand, our customers always want new styles and designs and as long as there is interest from them we will be more than willing to oblige.

All photos are copyright of Libidex Ltd.

[pastorofnone]

Becoming more radical in 2018

***Long post but includes things I just haven't had the time or energy to write out on social media

New Years is coming up and I just wanted to touch on some thoughts and notes that I gathered from this week's VWPA podcast. These ladies have been so incredibly influential for me this year, and I wanted to make a master post of some points that were made in this year's podcasts that were kind of summed in an episode talking about what we can do in 2018. A lot of these tie in to each other in several ways but here we go, Here's the princess' list of tips for becoming more radicalized in 2018: 1. Reject all diet talk. Just. Say. No! It's all bullshit. Body talk, fat shaming/body shaming... this time of year it is so prevalent. Media and advertisers have been pushing consumers to eat like crap for 3 months, and now they're gonna make you feel shitty, and ~make new resolutions~ and ~lose the weight~ and it's New Years, everyone wants a fresh start, etc. There's this constant "waiting" period for people, putting your life on hold until you are the person you want to be, the new you, tying your body to a certain quality of life and it's all bullshit. And as for disabled people of all types, don't worry about not looking or behaving in a certain way that society expects you to. All of it is a scam and decide that you're already the person you want to be, and go up from there. For some disabled people (mental illness included) you may never get better, and don't hold yourself from what you CAN do. Dating and relationships are hard when you don't like your body. Not liking having adventures or being vulnerable because you don't like your body is sad and you should never deprive yourself of experiences because of feelings surrounding how you look. Be mindful of where your goals are coming from. Try to make your goals come from a place of self love in regards to everything, including lifestyle changes that affect your body. 2. Resist. This revolution is becoming watered down and commercialized, but... in big ways, in small ways, taking days off, chasing a passion, anything you do can be a form of resisting. Resist. You have to be in a good place to continue to keep going. All the systems we operate under that oppress human and non-human animals totally break us down, and resting in and of itself is resisting. This is the second year of the Trump presidency. We're exhausted and burnt out and everyone needs a reminder, I think, that it's a marathon-- not a sprint. Challenge all the pressures that make you feel uncomfortable. Push back. Shut down your TV, read books, self soothe. Anything that makes you feel like you're reclaiming yourself and escaping this... capitalist trap we're in. Any time you can intentionally do something, without external expectation, is resistance. A day where you don't experience micro-aggressions is a huge form of activism. Lets stop giving our thoughts and energy to the oppressor. 3. Be kind to yourself. It sucks that we all have to remind each other of this. Self forgiveness is important. Not to say don't learn from your mistakes... but we aren't gonna get through this if we don't take care of ourselves. We need to stop the self deprecation. In revolutionary spaces, I feel like everyone is like "we're not activists if we're not sad and down all the time". There is an unhealthy amount of negativity and self hatred. You can be part of the group and make mistakes. The kinder you can be to yourself, the kinder you can be to other people. This heavily ties into resisting. Use that seemingly silly trick to apply how you'd treat a loved one to yourself. Allow yourself the same compassion. You deserve the same things everyone else does. Not to mention, when you don't apply these standards to yourself, it seriously strains your relationships in your life. Self hatred drives sooooo many of your actions that you're not even aware of. It's definitely a lifelong process to filter these actions, but it's well worth it. 4. Be mindful in and of your relationships. Let's be mindful OF the relationships we have and IN the relationships we have. Are your relationships adding to your life? Enriching your life? You have ups and downs in every relationship, but I think it's important we really evaluate our relationships because they heavily affect our energy and ability to cultivate a good life. Lets look at how we're showing up in our relationship. Are you acting out of insecurity? Are you expecting others to take risk first? Do you expect reassurance because of insecurities you're feeling? Can we be more honest with each other? Lets be real! Lets stop dancing around eachother, (ex: "Do you want the last slice?" "No, I'm good!" "You sure?" "Yeah!.... I mean, yeah, no I'm fine!" or... "Do you need a ride?" "Ummm, no I'll walk! It's okay!") You should be honest with what you want and say. And other people should be, too. And if they're not being honest about what they want, they will learn. Everyones trying to meet social expectations and be polite, we're not saying what we mean, and it's teaching us that honesty is not okay and it creates this whole culture that it's not polite to communicate fully and that you have to lie or cut corners to maintain relationships and that's simply not true and also super backwards and weird. It makes it so we can never tell and we have to try and mind read and it's exhausting! Especially for us introverts out there. Practice in small ways if this seems hard, say "yes I want that". Girls! We're taught to not like... take the thing. Take the thing! Fuckin' take it! Operate in a way where you're not pretending to not be hungry or not want a thing. Trust your friends' word. It will enrich your relationships so much. It's so incredible to be in relationships where you can say what you want and trust that they are saying what they want. It clears up mental space where you're not like "Uh I think they really want this but are saying _____" or "What do they want me to say", etc. It's okay to have this conversation, too! If there's a person you always do these mental dances with: sit down and just be like "Aren't you tired? I wanna be more honest. Wanna join me?" It will alleviate so much anxiety around translating things and trying to please people and build so much trust and communication, and hopefully it will spread to larger circles! It's not impolite to not question every social exchange. Let people be advocates for themselves. If you can be an advocate for yourself about small things, it will be easier to be an advocate for yourself with the big things. Get what you want and need, in a safe space, and hopefully someday we can do that out in the world, which is not a very safe space right now. These are are closest relationships and we're just lying to each other. I don't have the energy to do it anymore, and I have a feeling most people don't, either. A.k.a: Don't say it's fine if it's not, say what you mean, mean what you say. Expect that from the people in your life, too. If you have resentments, it's your responsibility to express them. There are so many misunderstandings that should be non-issues. How do you feel? Does anybody know that you feel that way? 5. Boundaries, boundaries, boundaries! Boundaries in relationships are so! Incredibly! Important! Welcome to Boundaryville. Lets not give more than we're able or let others take more than we are willing to give. A lot of us don't have them or even know what they are but they're kind of... the most important thing to have in a relationship. Do the people in your life respect your boundaries? How do you reinforce the boundaries you've tried to set? It's truly just assessing what you are and are not okay with and feeling confident enough in your needs to communicate these needs. Also, allowing others to set boundaries with us. I'd love to see everyone allowing our relationships to be THAT open. Regardless of being a people pleaser, let's try to not expect certain dialogue to occur or expect anything from one another based on our needs when we haven't communicated them. Boundaries are really scary! People feel impolite and cold when they set them, but in reality, if you're being manipulative to get the responses you need, it's just cutting corners to get what we want. Manipulative isn't always this evil adjective, either, we all become manipulative in some sense when we don't feel comfortable communicating and asking for what we want and need. Manipulation can be a survival tool, a shitty coping mechanism coming from awful childhoods that weren't safe or secure or supportive. The much easier, healthier, kinder thing to do is communicate your boundaries. It can be hard to deal with others' boundaries or a "no", but dealing with the reality of our feelings is so much better than building a collection of unresolved issues and feelings towards one another. Go forth and be brave. Have good relationships in your life and model that by having boundaries. 6. Call shit out. Not every situation is going to be safe and of course take that into account, know the potential consequences are of calling shit out, but I think especially white people: we need to do more than we're doing. We need to keep a constant awareness that there's a lot we ignore, we try to be too polite, we hear inappropriate jokes, we have problematic people in our lives that we give a free pass to. The stakes are real. We have to stamp out bigotry in all it's forms. It flourishes in these small spaces. People aren't simply monsters, they're probably normal, maybe well respected, loved people. There's someone, maybe you, that's choosing to not make the situation a little uncomfy by not saying "Hey, that's not okay. It's not okay to say it and it's not okay to think it and I do not agree with you." Not saying anything makes it come across that we don't disagree with what they're saying. Racism, ableism, transphobia, body shaming, cis sexist comments... they are still so invisible. Jokes around rape culture and anti-consent culture. I'm sick of people acting like it's not a problem. These small comments add up to bigger social constructs. Let's stop being all, "They're normies... they can't help it, I won't say anything... I'll just make a blog post about it." People don't understand why it's bad, especially when it comes to fat-shaming and transphobic comments, I think. Also, stigma around mental illness is still a thing. It's okay to say that you feel that they are being inconsiderate, and problematic, or that maybe they are not educated on things that affect a LOT of people. We really need to step up and attack all forms of oppression. There are humans being left out of a lot of conversations within intersectional oppression. When you can, be a little brave. Spread awareness. You may not see the transition of their thought patterns after a conversation, but often times these confrontations are the beginning of a domino effect and that is the least we can ask for. Racist Uncle Bob may always be racist, he may never change... but maybe Aunt Sally will. Maybe someone else at the dinner table will be like "someone gets it". We get closer to the end goal by doing this, and we find allies this way. I mean conservatives are like, not at ALL shy about their beliefs, so why as leftists are so many of us so nervous as if we're in the wrong when we're the ones trying to ensure the protection of lives of MORE people? Republicans aren't concerned with being polite or quiet. Like we're here, too. Silence is a sign of siding with the oppressors, not the victims. 7. Fight call-out culture. Our anger is justified, but we don't need to lead with it. Call-out culture via the internet has become like... so bullyish? So toxic? Shuts so many conversations down? And I am NOT talking about arguing with nazis, I'm talking about rejecting people and assuming ill intent with everyone and treating everyone like an adversary. I'm tired of seeing so many people looking for one missed word and looking for one misstep and discounting the entire discussion when people are LEARNING. I feel like in everyone's SJW journey everyone goes through periods of anger, but I think staying in this place is doing us nothing and is making us lose our compassion which is the point in the first place. It takes away our ability to educate. It's frustrating to see so many people demonizing allies or victims themselves instead of oppressors and bigots. 8. Embrace nuance. Getting beyond our initial reactions behind things and getting to the core of feelings and issues: having conversations, going deeper than the surface level, fighting defensive reactions. Not every issue is meme-able or summed up in 30 seconds, you can't summarize huge issues that could be centuries old or something that has so so many layers to it. Allies, if you're going to step into an Ally Role, it's your job to have nuance conversation. Yes it's your job to call stuff out, but in a way that facilitates conversation, in a way that is understanding and builds connection. That then frees up the victims to have that healing anger they need to have. Ally anger is not really a healing solution to oppression, and using anger as a weapon is a really easy way to just turn the discussion into ~Ally Theatre~. I understand that when you're first informed of injustice, you're angry, but when you're an Ally on ten about something and shaming everyone, it's prohibitive to anything constructive happening. You're not really doing your job. You should be taking on emotional labor that someone else shouldn't need to. If you're a victim experiencing this, you're pretty much like "I can't hear this anymore!!!" and they shouldn't need to. If you're an Ally, to the point that you can, please try to explain to someone something instead of just shutting it all down. Unless they're being violent or racist, ____phobic, etc in a way that is obvious, yeah shut that shit down and it's pretty much totally acceptable to be like "you're being fucking racist" but there are things that aren't always so apparent. Example: hearing "All Lives Matter", for a lot of us we're like "Shut the fuck up you're being ignorant" but a lot of the time they don't understand why it's wrong and problematic and harmful, it's possible they aren't totally hateful individuals and they do not understand the situation. Ignorant, yes. But probs not actively hating POC. So as an Ally, it's our job to explain why they're being incredibly ignorant and POC can have whatever reaction they need to have. It's almost like in this ~Ally Theatre~ people are like giving themselves cookies for being harsh and reactionary when it's just unnecessary. Victims need support and advocates. Not everything is this elevator pitch explained in 30 seconds and activism is about building community, building understanding. SJWs have just started cannibalizing each other. We can see these big things controlling these issues and we're all frustrated (understandably) and taking it out on each other and policing each other and telling each other to shut up and it's concerning. This isn't where the real work needs to happen! Of course my heart is heavy and the anger is real, but I just want us to like, be more loving. Be. More. Loving. We make mistakes, we respond in ways we regret, we're learning and growing. That being said, not all days you have the energy but when we are doing this work, we're trying to humanize a group or groups of people, and we're not going to get that by dehumanizing others. We're treating people in our SJW space as we would some highly offensive & awful thing on like a Reddit thread. You can be firm and direct about things that are problematic but not be rude and shameful. Educate, don't shame. Give people space to be better. You don't need to coddle them and be syrupy sweet, but speak with respect, allow them to step forward. The best way to learn is usually by making mistakes. It's chaos out there, just be kind. That's all we can do. You don't have to always be nice, just be kind. A lot of us are on the wrong path because of the way we grew up, and we're all just trying to reach each other. OKAY PHEW. I hope everyone has an awesome New Years celebration if you're celebrating it, and I hope this upcoming year brings you happiness and excitement. I hope this post was helpful and that it inspired forward movement. I love you all and I can't wait to see you next year! <3

[yeoldontknow]

As Still As Sound: Prologue

Author’s Note: i really didn’t think i’d start another series so soon, really i didn’t. but this came to me one night, and i feel like i’m going to scream if i don’t write it. this story is basically a love note from me to a lot of different things; some of it is personal, some of it is fictional, a lot of it is me doing something i never do and writing real, true love story. i hope you enjoy this prologue!

Summary: Two years after soulmate bonds are formed in our universe, and still the world is reeling from the connections. Everyone seems to be affected, except you. You seem to think you’ve been left out and forgotten, though you don’t really want a soulmate at all. All you really want is to be alone with your music…

O/C’s Spotify song this chapter: Blow - Ghinzu (music for each chapter will be the song the reader/oc/you is listening to)

Pairing: Chanyeol x Reader (oc; female)

Genre: Soulmate!AU; fluff; angst; drama; sci-fi; eventual smut

Rating (this chapter): PG

Warnings (this chapter): references to threats of self-harm

Word Count: 5,024

METRO UK      APRIL 8, 2013

EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEW! FIRST UK SOULMATE PAIR DISCOVERED: TWO YEARS ON 

Anita and Wesley Goulding made history on this day in 2011 as the first couple in the UK to find their soulmate after the Era Shift. They’ve sat down with us today to discuss how they met, the struggles they endured in the early days of finding one another, and why they think the new soulmate process is a double edged sword.

Q: Congratulations on two years!

Anita: Thank you! It really doesn’t feel like it. I wake up every morning and see him, and I somehow fall more in love with him.

Wesley: I honestly don’t know what I was doing in my life before I met her. It’s been the most magical two years.

Q: Finding your soulmate is different for everyone. Tell us what happened to you both, as the first.

A: Well, I don’t think we were technically the first [laughs], but I think we were the first to find each other and document it in some way, or at least reach out on a national level to alert people that this was happening? But, for me, I woke up one morning knowing I wasn’t alone in my mind. I know that sounds terrifying or awful, but it actually felt comforting. I could feel him there, sort of at the side, all day until I was able to hear his thoughts.

W: Yes, I woke up that day feeling like I was warm. Warm sounds like a silly way to describe it, but I could feel her presence and it just made me feel good, like down to the core.

A: I think we went about two days before we could talk to one another. It was a constant inner monologue. I wanted to tell him everything the second I heard his voice.

Q: How did you end up meeting or finding each other?

A: We were quite lucky that we only lived about an hour away from each other. We suggested meeting in Bristol for the day because it meant we’d have things to do, and we could leave whenever we wanted if it went badly. He waited for me at the train station and when I saw him by the platform it felt like seeing the sun for the first time.

W: I was quite nervous meeting her because already I knew that I was in quite deep. To be honest, I wasn’t even thinking about if I’d find her attractive because I already knew I would. Everything about her felt right, and when she came off the platform it was like having my breath stolen from me but paradoxically, I could breathe easier knowing she was there and she was mine. 

Q: Had you been in a relationship during your time discovering one another?

W: No, and I think again we were lucky in that regard. We’ve all heard stories about people already being married, engaged, or in serious relationships learning that they aren’t soulmates. We were both single and I think that’s why we were able to surrender to the magic of it.

A: I don’t know how we would have handled it had we already been committed to other people. The pull towards him is irresistible and I have great respect for those who are going through that tough situation right now.

[…]

THE SCIENCE OF SOULMATES

Natasha Waters - Edited for Metro UK by Miles Kuyer

Before we begin, it is critical that some discussion on the historical context regarding the Era Shift is initiated as to better understand the complexities arising within the studies of Soul Searching, and the concept of the soulmate bonding itself. Furthermore, I would like to point out that this paper exists only as a method of summarising and categorizing what is known, confirmed, and defined in Soul Searching. New discoveries are being made daily given the tumultuous and varying nature of the science, and so I make no attempt to tangentially comment on, or speak to, what may still be considered hypothetical or theory as these are wholly outside of my qualifications. While there is little progress in the study of how soulmate bonding came into fruition (i.e. the direct connection between ion proportion and pheromone detection), there are many things within scientific circles considered to be true and founded, and my hope is to present these to the public to act as a definitive guide on the subject.

In July of 2010, two separate sunspots were discovered on the Sun’s photosphere, each with a diameter of approximately 75,000km in what was eventually discerned to be opposite magnetic polarity. Each spot traveled at the same velocity and propulsion for two days before converging on the photosphere as one critical mass event with a spot diameter of 160,000km. While it is normal for sunspots of this size to endure for a timeframe that varies between two to seven days, this spot endured for three weeks before resulting in a coronal loop. This became the first of many small solar flares across a six month period.

In September of 2010, two other sunspots were discovered in the exact same positions, however these only had diameters of 50,000km. They followed the same trajectory before converging into a single spot with a diameter of 110,000km. The single spot endured for one week before resulting in yet another coronal loop. 

In March of 2011, a coronal mass ejection of 1 × 10^25 joules was released in the position where the two sunspots had converged and decayed. This coronal mass ejection resulted in possibly the largest solar flare we had seen in three decades and reached Earth’s atmosphere in the early hours of March 27th.

Four days later, the first soulmate couple was reported on American local broadcast station Channel 5 in the state of Maryland.

Scientific circles have been able to connect the events of the solar flare to the discovery of soul mate bonding, and Soul Searching, due to the processes through which the electrons and ions were able to restructure neurological responses within the human brain. Through various methods of MRI and X-Ray technologies, we are able to state with absolute certainty that the amygdala has seemingly adapted to respond to pheromone triggers across long distances.

While it is still difficult to accurately discern which other parts of the brain have been affected, as the case study for this issue could undoubtedly be humanity itself - especially with each soul bond differing from case to case - there is confidence that the Reticular Activation System, Temporal lobes, and Limbic systems have all evolved or adapted since the solar flare of 2011. 

[…]

HE STOLE HER CAR AFTER SHE LEFT HIM FOR HER SOUL MATE

[…]

Tune in TONIGHT on Channel 4 to watch The Bond, the latest reality show from the makers -

[…] 

Two years after the Era Shift, many adults are still trying to adapt to the ways in which their soul bond will take effect. Not least of which are a group of individuals from Manchester who have come together as a support group after the loss of major senses.

‘I thought I was terminally ill,’ says Catherine Fisher, 30. ‘You really can’t imagine what it’s like to wake up in the morning and suddenly…everything is so grey. I’m still not used to it, really. My memories are all in colour, and I have pictures of events that I know are in colour but I can’t see them that way.’

Within the group, there are many, underlying feelings regarding the concept of the soul mate as a whole. 

‘We thought it was supposed to be for the betterment of humanity, you know?’ says Daniel Goddard, 36. ‘I was married to a woman I really did love and we have a beautiful daughter, but how do you tell her mommy and daddy aren’t meant to be together? And how do you explain to your wife that you love her, but it’s not enough? And how can you tell me it’s ok I can’t hear music until I meet the person I’m supposed to be with? I know people have it worse off, really I do, but it’s sh**.’

You shut the paper with a huff and rest your head against the wall of the tube carriage, turning the volume of your music up to drown out the roar. Once again, no Sudoku puzzles. The usual page overrun by redundant soul bond news.

Two years on and still the Era Shift seemed to consume the media, the public, the world. As if this was the only thing to care about. As if love was the only newsworthy event because the lack of choice suddenly made it exciting or mysterious. People falling in and out of love made the front page just as often as a world leader or the start of a new war, and both topics make you feel uneasy and uncomfortable in equal measures.

Love has become an irresistible force and consequently, the heart is now an immovable object. Logically, neither can truly exist. Logically, a love like this should be impossible. Choice of partner has been eradicated, replaced instead with a forced paradox of biblical proportions and you can’t find it in your heart to be pleased.

Some days, admittedly, you feel you may be too ungrateful or scornful. You’ve heard the stories of those who’ve lost colour vision, the ability to hear music, the doom clock on the arm that is constantly counting down, and you know, in some way, you’ve been blessed. Ever since the flare, you’ve felt no discernible or ominous change. Your body and your mind have belonged completely to you, always, never intruded on by someone else’s thoughts or feelings and for this you are thankful.

But you feel the same. Unchanged and unmoved, you’ve yet to feel any sort of connection to humanity beyond the basic framework of how things worked before, and you almost feel as though you are the only one who’s been left behind. 

You think you’re supposed to feel part of a grand design. Perhaps, you should feel an anxious sort of excitement that washes over you at whim, whenever you think about prospect or opportunity or fate. Instead, you feel nothing but a tepid neutrality that leaves you feeling bored and, truthfully, bitterly disinterested.

Your thoughts are interrupted by the sensation of being watched…admired. The hairs on your arms start to rise in knowledge and slight discomfort, and you release a quiet sigh.

You remember when tube journeys were an anonymous, rather stoic affair. Not long ago, you felt like you could fade into the sea of faces in a tube carriage, enjoying the comfortable silence that came with the ride. Now, even with your eyes closed, you can feel eyes scanning your face, searching for some kind of trigger or shock that says she’s the one. Two years ago, this kind of scrutiny would have been impolite and in poor etiquette. Lately, you’ve grown used to it and occasionally welcome it. You’re starting feel comfortable in the disappointment and distraction, sometimes luxuriating in gladness that others are just as lost as you.

As the train comes to a halt, you open your eyes and stand to depart. It’s now that you see who was looking at you, studying you with a quizzical and fascinated stare. You smile brightly, though you know this will have little result. He’s handsome, handsome in all the right ways with broad shoulders and long fingers - a musician with kind eyes, you think, and you know you’d call him your type. He smiles back, but it’s sad - for both you and him.

In another life, you’d call this a meet cute. In another life, maybe you would have slipped him your number. Today, you are strangers and today you are not soulmates, neither of you belonging to the other for any substantial amount of time. And while he will forget you, moving on to the next pretty face to find the right curves and teeth and hair, you will remember him only because he was wrong, a mistake you could have made. And you know that you would have picked him, picked him and relished the disaster of it, had you only been given the chance.

Hesitantly, you depart the train as your heart says goodbye to a man who could have been yours, in another life.

The walk to the pub from Angel station is quick, drenched in uncharacteristic sunshine and tucked away from the busy high street. It helps you recenter yourself, finding joy in the smallness and simplicity of things. Life continues on around you and in the heart of the city, you almost feel as though nothing has changed. There’s comfort here, in the obscurity of city streets and you relish the sensation of being alone with yourself.

When you arrive, Kate is already waiting for you in a corner booth near the back, and she waves at you with an awkward enthusiasm, childlike in its nature. She’s radiating joy, it’s brimming out and over from her smile and into the room, and you’re blinded on impact; she’s even ordered you a cider. 

Immediately, you’re wary. 

‘Hiya,’ you say, shrugging your bag off and onto the cushion between you and the wall. ‘What’s all this about, then?’

‘What do you mean?’ she asks, airily. ‘Can’t I buy you drink?’

‘Kate, you’ve literally never bought me a drink unless it was my birthday.’

She looks down at her own glass, smiling with a warm sort of shyness you haven’t seen since you first met her. It’s unlike her to be so reserved or bashful. Usually, she’s rather frank, even to the point of sometimes catching you off guard with her seemingly absent sense of tact. This is unlike her. She has something she wants to tell you, but she’s afraid of your reaction. She’s afraid of you. 

‘I have some news,’ she begins, lightly. 

‘Of course you do,’ you say, softly, trying to ease her into the conversation. ‘What’s so important it couldn’t wait until after my shift?’ 

‘I bonded last night.’ 

‘Oh…’ 

Words live in your mind and die on your tongue, dissolving before you can birth them into the atmosphere. A slight chill has wandered down your spine, settling in your bones and dropping your stomach with disappointment. For a whole minute, you forget that your surprised sigh is the only sound you’ve made.

‘Wow, that’s incredible!’ You hope this exclamation sounds excited; you’re sure that it doesn’t. 

‘You don’t sound terribly enthusiastic,’ she laughs.

Anyone else, and you know they would have been upset at your reaction. Bonding is meant to be treated like engagement announcements of the past, and your lukewarm response would be considered hurtful and rude. But Kate knows you, knows everything about you down to your core, and she already expected this from you. 

‘No I am, really!’ you backtrack with a laugh. ‘I just…you were like, the one friend, you know? We had the shit end of things. And now I’ve got no one to complain to.’

You’re trying to keep the mood light, lacing your tone with a playfulness you think might have been found on single women before the flare.

As usual, she cuts your words down to the heart of your sentiments.

‘You have a soulmate,’ she presses. ‘I know you do.’

This really isn’t what you wanted, changing her announcement into a debate about you and your seemingly absent soul bond. Truthfully, you’re not in the mood to discuss all the ways you seem to be excluded from a newfound sense of completeness, so you change the subject to something that interests you more. 

‘Whatever,’ you say, dismissively. ‘Let me see the clock.’ 

Resting her right arm on the table with an awed expression, you lean forward to admire the purple-white numbers just below her skin.

23:04:16:17:04:22

Twenty-three years, four months, sixteen days, seventeen hours, four minutes, and twenty-two seconds. That’s how long it took her to find her soulmate.

Unlike many people who were fortunate enough to have a clock that counts down to finding their soulmate, Kate had received a clock that tracked how long it would take. You both found this to be one of the least helpful gifts of the solar flare, and, while it isn’t a major sensory loss, for a time you both considered this to be one of the most traumatizing. 

The morning she woke up and discovered a clock beneath her skin was the first time you ever heard her cry. She’d called in a panic, her breaths falling in quick, shallow succession as her words became mangled in her sobs. Initially, she thought she had been dreaming, but the burn along her flesh was far to tangible to be fiction of the mind. Then, she thought it was a tattoo and, for a brief moment, she felt comforted. But soon, she realized she hadn’t been out the night before and, probably most horrifying of all, the numbers were moving.

They were counting, upwards and towards something, and for days all she did was watch the clock. She’d skipped classes, sat in her bathtub and watched the way the numbers made the water drops glow. After about a week of trying to figure out what it could possibly be counting to, she threatened to cut the numbers out with a kitchen knife. Screaming over the phone, she said they were driving her crazy, that the numbers haunted her even behind her eyes. She was trapped and consumed by time, and if this was what it took to find true love then she didn’t want it at all.

This was her lowest point, her lowest, darkest point, and it’s difficult to have this memory, so visceral and clear in your mind, as you watch her smile at the thing she once so deeply hated.

In the grand scheme of things, you find this to be an incredibly short period of time: to change your mind about the clock, to change your mind about your soulmate - to find your soulmate at all. It’s all happened so fast, and you’re starting to feel left behind.

Shaking your head to clear your head, you lean back and take a large drink of cider. ‘So, tell me how it happened.’

‘It was in Covent Garden actually.’

Your laugh comes out as an unsurprised bark, accidental in the magnitude of its volume. Covent Garden is her favourite part of London. This story almost sounds romanticized and predictable. ‘Of course it was.’ 

‘Ha ha,’ she mocks. ‘He was actually coming out of Whittard’s as I was going down to watch the string quartet, and when I saw him it was…it was like seeing stars.’

‘Stars are just lights in the sky,’ you casually remark with a shrug. ‘They aren’t really that special.’

‘I don’t mean like a standard city night sky,’ she retorts with a roll of her eyes. ‘I mean…imagine whole galaxies blooming in front of you.’

Eyes wide at this statement, you almost choke on your drink. ‘Oh, so suddenly you’re a poet?’ 

‘Maybe I am, now!’ she laughs.

‘So when are you seeing him?’

Her response is terribly quick.

‘Tonight actually.’

Now you do choke on your drink. ‘To-tonight? That’s so soon.’

‘I know,’ she giggles. ‘But within minutes I just wanted to do absolutely everything with him. Like, even right now I’m anxious being away from him.’ 

Everything about this sounds like it’s moving impossibly fast. There’s no courting, no collection of texts to prelude an actual date, no time to actually get to know one another. Perhaps because you’re the only one without the tension and anticipation of emotional connection, it makes you terribly nervous.

‘Please be careful,’ you say, seriously.

‘He’s my soulmate, not a stranger,’ she sighs.

‘I mean he kind of is.’ Your voice is colder than you intended, so you soften yourself before continuing. ‘You’ve known him, what, twenty-four hours and you’re already in this deep?’

She narrows her eyes at you, and you can feel her frankness before she even opens her mouth.

‘You know,’ she says, voice warm but stern. ‘Not long ago we would have considered this standard excitement over a cute guy. I feel like you think it’s different now because we just know we’re meant to be together.’

‘I’d still be telling you to be careful,’ you reply. ‘Especially if he was just some guy and not your soulmate.’

She takes a long sip of her drink and furrows her brow. ‘Yeah, but he is my soulmate, so I don’t think he’s going to hurt me.’

‘I just have to say it, okay?’ It almost sounds like a plea, and perhaps it is.

Her features relax into an expression of gentle understanding, her lips pulled into a sympathetic smile. Today is not the day for arguing.

‘Sometimes I don’t know why you’re so hard on the soulmate thing,’ she says, changing the subject. ‘You know, considering your parents.’

After the Era Shift, most marriages began to dissolve and shatter as nearly everyone had somehow wound up with the wrong partner. There really wasn’t a single person you knew whose family wasn’t broken because of this, except your own. Somehow, when your parents woke up affected by the solar flare, they faced each other in bed and found The One, the one they had shared a bed with for 35 years. They’d spent the morning laughing, touching, and rediscovering each other, the bond only magnifying their love for one another. This was how it was meant to be, you thought, an awakening and discovery of what was already there. It rarely worked out this way. 

‘They were the minority,’ you clarify. ‘And their fate really has nothing to do with mine, you know? They had each other. You have a soulmate. I’m not even sure what I have.’

Kate sips her drink and regards you with a cool stare. She knows there’s more you want to say, and you know she’s already slightly exasperated with you. None of this is new. It’s a discussion you’ve had with her, and many of your other friends, for the past two years and you keep coming back to it like a crutch. You don’t really feel passionate about love, because you’ve been excluded from it for so long. Nor are you passionate about people, but you feel very passionately about free will and you can’t help but feel like it’s been taken from you.

‘Love is complicated,’ you concede. ‘It’s so complex and difficult, and people are always making promises to each other they can barely keep -’

‘That’s why soulmates are a thing now,’ she interjects, smoothly. 

‘Okay, but it tripled divorce rates because suddenly these people weren’t meant to be together.’ 

‘There’s every chance those marriages would have failed along the way, regardless.’ She tries to say it as gently as she can, but it still comes out a little bit callous.

‘Yeah, but not all of them,’ you say, voice rising. ‘Those people entered into a marriage because they loved each other, and some of them would have worked through their issues or weathered that storm because they chose to. That to me is more beautiful than just knowing things are going to be ok because some kind of fate tells you it’s going to be.’

‘I get that, really I do,’ she asserts in hushed tones, trying to coax you back down. ‘But I don’t think you’re counting the fact that you’ll want to choose your soulmate. At every turn, you’ll want to choose them. And no one is saying the problems are gone. You can’t have a relationship that never, ever has an argument, but it makes it easier to forgive.’

‘You’ve literally known yours for a day and you’re already lecturing me,’ you groan, though you can’t seem to hide your laughter.

‘It comes from a place of love,’ she says dryly, reaching out to touch your hand.

You regard each other in silence for a long while, and mentally you’re already preparing for yet another loss. Soon, her time will be entirely taken up with her soulmate. If you do spend time together, it will include a person who effectively turns you into the third-wheel of a nine year friendship. It pains you to see things this way, but you’ve lived through it enough to know this is how it starts and, though you are aware of it, you’re never quite prepared for how it ends. Several of your friends and family have coupled off, their days spent in a marital bliss unlike anything you’d ever witnessed. You know that Kate will always be your friend, but you know, deep down, things will never feel like this again.

Pensive and just a little bit sad, you glance at the clock on your phone and begrudgingly start to gather your things.  

‘I’ve got to head to the shop,’ you say, coming to stand and downing the last of your cider. ‘Tell me how everything goes, yeah?’

‘Will do,’ she replies, standing with you to offer you a hug.

Her embrace is warm and comforting, connected in a way you know you will soon miss. Pulling away from it is almost painful, but you give her a kiss on the cheek and tell her that everything is going to be just fine. You will be just fine. 

The walk to the record shop is short and what would have been a peaceful stroll is now consumed with thoughts of Kate’s bond. You don’t like to consider yourself envious, you don’t envy her clock and you don’t really envy the fact that she’s found her soulmate, but you think you envy her ability to surrender into the dream of it all. She makes it sound and feel easy, makes it sound like something beautiful and wondrous. Sometimes you think with your guard so high and impenetrable, it’s no wonder you haven’t felt any sort of change. 

Pushing open the door to Flashback Records, you’re relieved to see your favourite coworker standing behind the counter cleaning a record. You don’t often get to work with him, seeing as the market for second hand records is rather small. There’s been a slight influx of customers over the years, the advent of soul bonding seeming to make people nostalgic for the romance of tangible, physical music played from a turntable. Still, business is never busy enough to require more than one person on the till. 

‘How long are you here?’ you ask, sliding behind him to get to the employees only closet. 

‘Until about half-six,’ comes his reply, though he doesn’t both to look up from the record he’s cleaning. His blonde hair has fallen into his eyes, and he’s so focused on his task he doesn’t both to brush it away.

‘Nice. Looks like you’re stuck with me for three hours,’ you tease, nudging him with your hip.

‘Don’t!’ he hisses. ‘You’ll make my hand slip and scratch it.’

Rolling your eyes, you start to clock in on the till computer but you briefly become distracted. On the turntable in the back of the store, Chris has chosen to play something that sounds vaguely familiar to you. You know you’ve heard it before, perhaps with a different guitar effect or voice, but you know that you’ve heard it and you know that, at some point, it meant something very dear to you. 

Part of this doesn’t feel like a memory that belongs to you, but you’re fond of the song and the way it tells a story. All at once, you think you’ve figured it out.  

‘Hey, Chris, wasn’t this in Pulp Fiction?’ you ask, frozen in place at the counter. 

Even as you suggest it, it feels wrong. You know it was used in the film, you’re sure of it, but this doesn’t feel like the question you want to be asking or should be asking. The song feels heavier than a soundtrack, heavier than a memory of cinema or cult fan-boy connection.

‘This is Neil Diamond,’ he snorts. ‘How do you not know this song?’

‘I know the song,’ you say quickly, frustrated. ‘Can you just answer my question.’

‘This is the original version,’ he explains, though he doesn’t sound terribly interested. ‘Urge Overkill did a cover of it that was used in Pulp Fiction.’

‘Where’s the sleeve?’ you demand.

He nods in the direction of the end of the counter, and you eagerly reach for the album sleeve. With it in your hands, you get the passing sensation of slipping, like you’ve held this exact item in your hands before, or heard this precise version or sang it to someone important. You know that you haven’t, and think maybe what you’re experiencing is a prosthetic sort of nostalgia, a nostalgia brought on by a wish for a life you could have lived.

Closing your eyes and taking a deep inhale of breath, you center yourself and, as quickly as it came, the moment passes. You decide then that you need this song in some way, need it to be close to you always, so you pull out your phone and add the album to your Spotify. Truthfully, you don’t think anything has ever been as important as this song is, right here, right now.

It’s important that you have this song with you, tonight and for every tomorrow. Important that you make it yours.

[webgottmilk]

~ Heard It Through the Grapevine ~

This fic is a gift for the lovely and patient @ciarlapanics; the fic rec is coming, I promise! In the meantime, enjoy some Bradray feels, since I’m a sucker, and you can never have too many in our little fandom. Enjoy <3

Summary: This is not quite how Ray imagined he’d become Internet famous.

Rating: E

Word Count: 5,237

This is not the way that Ray wanted to become Internet famous - in his mind, rock stardom comes from carefully crafted albums and hours spent in recording booths. Of course his fame is the wretched lovechild of his overactive imagination and (admittedly) poor planning skills.

And yes, perhaps literally jumping into Brad Colbert’s arms upon his arrival back to the States wasn’t the sanest of ideas, but even that he can let his best friend chalk up to his rather poor upbringing. (“If you had any less brain cells Ray, you’d be a drooling vegetable. In fact, the drooling part isn’t far off”). To be fair however, flying directly to Nevada,Missouri after finishing up serving with the Royal Marine Commandos - fucking English frogs in his mind - is no small feat to Ray, and deserves at least a small gesture of gay love on his part.

Ok, yes, Ray may have regretted the action as soon as he tackled Brad since holy shit the fucking Viking can hold on to a lot of weight and god damn those arms. But properly non heterosexual thoughts aside, it’s not really an intelligent idea to display affection in public for any Marine, lest civilians catch on to the idea that they’re actually human beings too! At least, Ray chooses to believe that that’s Brad’s reasoning for his usually reserved nature upon being body slammed at the Joplin Municipal Airport.

Surprisingly, Brad plays along with the reunion, twirling Ray around like some sparkly gay ass princess from Disney’s latest money making gambit, and laughs quietly into his ear.

“I knew you loved me, Iceman!”, Ray crows back - give him an inch and he’ll take a mile…

Brad is obviously thinking along those lines, dropping him faster than Encino Man called danger close strikes on his own men back in Iraq.

“I would question your actions, Ray”, he says, stepping back and lazily drawling, “but I know that there’s barely room for a thought that’s not involving incest or NASCAR in that fucked up head of yours.”

Ray tilts his head upwards to peer at Brad - who is still standing close enough that he can smell the sweat and dirt on his fatigues - and winks lecherously.

“I just couldn’t wait to get my hands back on those Viking arms of yours, homes. They’re irresistible”, Ray draws the last word out in an overexaggerated attempt to mimic Walt’s slow country accent. He blows the bemused Brad a kiss before striking off towards the baggage claim. Brad follows closely, always watching his six, as he crosses the terminal and heads towards carousel four.

“Eat any English sausages?”, Ray asks innocently as they idle side by side, waiting for Brad’s single camo coloured duffle to appear on the conveyor belt.

Brad only snorts, shoving Ray hard enough that he has to struggle the slightest amount to regain his balance, and dignity.

“Civilian life has made you soft, Ray. You’re a goddamn disgrace to every Marine in Nevada”, Brad shoots back, clearly not missing the shorter man’s attempt at recovery. “Don’t worry, you can join me on my six mile run tomorrow, early bird catches the worm, or the sausage, I suppose.” Brad laughs openly at his distress, then nudges Ray again suggestively.

“Homes, if I needed birds to help me find sausage, I would have checked myself into a hospice long before your giant white ass landed back on US soil.” He is obviously teasing, so Brad obliges with a soft huff, then quickly steps forward to grab his bag off the belt.

“Let’s go home, Ray. You clearly need a nap and a bottle before your infantile brain is able to comprehend even the simplest of metaphorical phrases”. With that, Brad marches in the direction of the Parking Area signs, Ray trailing behind him.

The ride home, in Ray’s ancient pickup truck (“Ray, this piece of junk is going to fall apart right out from under us, before I’ve had a chance to consume one of your shitty Coors Lights”.) (“Oh Bradley, you know I bought gay microbrew just for you - no Coors Light for your delicate sensibility”.) is non eventful, even with the occasional jibe about Ray’s Elvis sunglasses - “we pimpin, homes,” he recites with a wry smile, as they coast along the highway, still going a good ten miles over the speed limit.

The night is spent drinking too many shitty beers, and consuming too much shitty media. (“Ray, no matter what you say, Inception is a B+ movie with poor editing and no plot”) and (“Bradley Colbert, your mother raised you better than to insult the good name of Christopher Nolan, shame on you!). Brad passes out on the couch around two am, clearly succumbing to the exhaustion of a day spent airplane hopping. Ray covers him with a blanket, heroically ignoring the strip of pale skin that his ridden up fatigues expose. He gulps, making a mental note to stay far, FAR away from the thought.

Ray sleeps fitfully, mostly because, “goddammit Brad, pineapple on pizza is not only the gayest thing you have ever suggested to me, but also the most disgusting, which coming from me, should shame you.” Pineapple and Coors Light do not a friendly bedfellow make, so he spends his hours gravitating between the kitchen, where he can just make out the fine blonde hairs of Brad’s head, and his cold, messy bed. Ray knows how pathetic it is to stare longingly over the counter at your best friend, so he actively avoids the kitchen and living room after a couple of passes.  

Around six, he checks his Twitter, since if it’s good enough for Donald Trump, it’s good enough for him. (At least that’s how he defended his usage when Brad raised a judgmental eyebrow at him between scenes of The Usual Suspects.) He smothers his laughter when he sees the number one trending tag, because “planking” is literally the dumbest fad since swallowing goldfish. He passes the “Don’t Ask Don’t Tell Repeal” tag with much less amusement, but makes a mental note to read up on it at a slightly later date. However, it’s trending tag number three that stops him half way through a drink of water; the sheer absurdity of the tag “Marinesinlove” is so substantial that he isn’t sure whether to laugh, or hide his face in his grubby pillow. Marines, displaying emotions? That’s the most retarded fucking thing he’s seen in the last twelve hours, and Brad Colbert’s lustful gaze at a pineapple covered pizza was one of them.

In the end, curiosity kills the cat (fuck you Brad, he can understand simple metaphors, or whatever), so Ray bites the bullet and clicks the tag. And nearly drenches his lap in ice cold fridge water. The first image to appear is a gif of Brad twirling him, HIM, around in a circle, with the tag, “Marine boyfriends in love”, and the addition of three heart eye emojis. The post has over six hundred retweets, with comments such as the disgusting “awwww”, and “this is what true love looks like”, though with a suspicious lack of grammar so common to Twitter.

Numb, Ray continues scrolling - it doesn’t just stop at the gif. There are multiple picture sets of Brad staring into Ray’s eyes - hold on, he swears that they weren’t standing THAT close at the airport - and gif upon gif of him rolling his eyes at Ray’s ridiculous antics. But what Ray can’t help but continuously notice is the overwhelming amount of grammatically incorrect tweets praising the “anonymous” Marines for their candid display of affection. They extol their bravery in openly revealing a “passionate and sweet love” (if Ray rolls his eyes anymore, he’s sure he’s going to contract brain damage, which according to Brad, he can’t really afford to contract).

Seriously, it’s just two guys really excited to see each other, after months and oceans apart - at least that’s what Ray tells himself over and over. Shit. Motherfucking son of a bitch, what is he going to say to Brad? “Hey Brad, I know you just got home from dealing with horrible beer and worse accents for months, but the entire Internet thinks that we’re in love, so I don’t think it’s a good idea if you go outside just yet.”

Oh god, he’s dead. He is so, so, unbelievably dead.

Since the gods are cruel, and just when Ray’s life has taken a u-turn towards ‘your best friend / one who you harbor secret feelings of not so friendship for is about to kill you’, the very object of his thoughts appears in the doorway, strangely lacking any coverage in the torso area. Fuck Ray’s life.

“You’re up!” Brad says, fake joviality clearly meant to annoy Ray, “which means that you can join me for my hard core Marine six mile run, unless of course, your pussy civilian lifestyle has coddled you into comfort and diabetes already.”

Ray blinks at him, still trying to look past the obvious tan lines that mar Brad’s pale skin, and perhaps stop eyeing the toned planes of his stomach quite so obviously.

“Ray…?” Brad’s voice cuts through his thoughts, sending his nerves tumbling around his stomach. “Is your whiskey tango head so fucked up that you can’t even form a coherent thought before seven am? This is a truly desolate day, my friend, truly sad.” Brad is clearly trying to cheer him up through the usual jabs at his upbringing and civilian status, but it’s not really doing anything to ease his thoughts. Mostly because Brad is standing there SHIRTLESS, which is a goddamn distraction in itself.

Finally, he regains his voice: “Seriously homes? It’s day one, and you can’t even let your Ray-Ray have a little bit of a lie in? Come give me a morning kiss and we’ll go from there”. He musters up all the bravado he can, and throws his arms out, head tilted upwards,  lips pursing in supposed anticipation.

Instead of replying, Brad huffs and shoves Ray back onto the bed, sprawling himself across the other half, with his hand absently lying on Ray’s chest.

“Ray, if I knew you pussied out so easily, I would have woken you up at four, just to have the satisfaction of seeing you struggle to tie your shoes at ass o’clock in the morning. As it is, this bed is marginally more comfortable than the abominable piece of furniture you call a couch, so I am going back to sleep. But when I wake up, you best be ready to run, or I will throw you out the door naked and laugh as you struggle to walk up a hill without developing blisters on your delicate civi feet.” Brad says all of this whilst staring at Ray’s collar bone, the only thing in his line of sight. Ray is still actively staring at the ceiling, forcing himself not to imagine waking up to a half naked Brad Colbert in his bed everyday. With this speech over, Brad steals the pillow out from underneath Ray’s head, effectively trapping him, with one arm wrapped up in the two now resting under his pillow. He closes his eyes, and is almost immediately asleep.

Fuck his life. Really, fuck his life.

                                                <GK>

When Ray manages to extract himself from the BradRay pile that had been forced on him, his first thought is COFFEE. Everything in the world, his mother taught him, can be solved by a cup of black coffee. She always joked that the blacker the soul, the blacker the coffee, though Ray was never sure how much of it was jest, considering there was never any cream or sugar in sight the few times his absent father appeared.

Shaking his head, Ray bullies his French press (“When did you get married, Ray? The only place you can find those metal fuckers are at fucking Crate + Barrel during wedding season.”) (“Of course I’ll marry you, Brad! How could I refuse, with a proposal like that?”) into spouting the foulest, blackest coffee it can muster.

Game plan, he needs a game plan. Ideally, one which ends with Brad and him managing to have an adult conversation about their feelings and all that bullshit. He snorts coffee all over the counter, and down the front of his shirt at the thought. The very idea is both colossally retarded and completely unrealistic. While this thought marinates in his head, Ray hunts for another shirt. Blindly, he reaches for one hanging off of the end of the couch, and, throwing the coffee defiled one on the carpeted floor, pulls the other over his head. Feeling refreshed, Ray walks back across the living room into the kitchen, where he pours himself a third cup of caffeinated murder water.

Ok, so then, how? Perhaps it’s just better to show Brad - he is a visual kind of motherfucker. And, demonstrating that the entirety of Twitter believes he and Ray to be in some kind of idealistic gay love seems like the best way to pound the idea into his neanderthal thick skull. Maybe it’ll even dissuade Brad from clobbering Ray long enough for him to make for higher ground. Apologizing has never been one of Ray’s tactics - he is unapologetic in all that he says and does, a perfect Marine trait - so he doesn’t believe that it will get him anywhere. Resigned, he pours himself another cup of fortification, and hunkers down on a stool to wait out the impending storm.

Blessedly, he doesn’t have to suffer with his own damning thoughts for too long; a shirtless and sleepy Viking clambers from his bedroom about ten minutes later. By now, Ray is starting to feel the effects of his fifth cup of coffee - it’s not unlike the familiar buzz of Ripped Fuel.

“How do you feel about free trade coffee, Brad? In the opinion of this ex-Marine, I think it’s complete bullshit. Like seriously, Starbucks? All of your beans are “ethically sourced”, he makes finger quotes here, “yet your customers throw away more than four million cups every year? And your, ‘one tree for every bag of coffee sales pitch’? Utter shit - if you could even plant trees at that rate, we’d call you fucking Captain Planet and put you in a Marvel comic book.” Ray’s knee won’t stop bouncing off the underneath of the counter and he really needs to get a grip RIGHT NOW.

“Good morning to you too, Ray, and Jesus, I thought you’d detoxed from the Ripped Fuel. The fact that you know specific figures on the waste that Starbucks produces just proves that you’re more of a frappuccino bloated prepubescent teenage girl than I feared. Nevertheless , a six mile run will quickly cure you of this pussiness. Look sharp.” Brad says this lot as he crosses the kitchen, pours himself a cup of steaming coffee, and leans across the counter to examine Ray for signs of Ripped Fuel ingestion. Ray stares back, noticing an almost imperceptible tightnesses that briefly overrules Brad’s expression. He has no idea what that’s about.

“Brad”, Ray begins, and winses, picking at the peeling paint on the side of the counter. He hates that he has to have this conversation, and even more, he hates how terrified he is to have this conversation. If it goes badly, he might very well lose Brad. “I really don’t think that the run is going to happen.” He quickly slips on an impish smile to cover his discomfort, and then adds, “you haven’t even tried my famous caffeinated bean water yet! It’s the best on the block! I swear to god, if you can’t take one day off, I’m FedExing you to Doc Brian for a psych eval, and don’t think I won’t make sure you fail it, even to give you one day of true R&R.”

Brad, who had been contemplatively sipping his coffee and staring into the living room, looks at Ray with an exasperated glance.

“Knew you’d pussy out; fine, I agree to forgo the run, IF, and only if I am allowed to force feed you more pineapple pizza before our run tomorrow morning.” His glance becomes an evil smirk, fully knowing that whether or not allowance is given, he’ll do it anyways.

And goddamnit if Ray wouldn’t willingly allow him to - he is so fucked. Instead of replying, he rolls his eyes and crosses to the living room, where he flops down on the couch. Brad joins him a minute later, coffee cup in one hand, and a plate of toast in another. He  silently offers Ray a slice, who happily crunches on it, spraying crumbs and spite everywhere.

“Ray, sometimes I wonder how you managed to survive Iraq without being slaughtered by Q-Tip and eaten as bacon. The way you eat, I’m honestly surprised no one mistook you for livestock.” Brad doesn’t even glance at Ray’s overly obnoxious chewing, instead choosing to flip the TV on, where CNN blares obnoxiously.

“Thank you, Jeff. And in other news, the Don’t Ask Don’t Tell Repeal of 2010 has finally been fully implemented. President Obama will host a press conference to celebrate this historical event later this evening. It just so happens that we have a heartwarming clip taken at the Joplin Regional Airport yesterday  which I think really demonstrates just what this repeal means for many LBTQ+ servicemen.”

Ray’s stomach drops, but there’s not time to run before the clip is rolled.

The footage is clearly taken on an iPhone, and is slightly blurry, but not enough to obscure the obvious faces in front of him. In the clip, the short, dark haired man drops his backpack on the terminal floor and runs full tilt towards a tall, Viking looking man, jumping practically into his arms, and wrapping his legs around the taller man’s waist. The blonde man laughs quietly and smiles fondly down at the smaller man, but spins him in a circle anyways, Marine fatigues clear, even in the video.

Beside him, Brad goes absolutely still.

The news anchor is talking again, something about the heartwarming affection that can be seen, the obvious love between the two men. “I mean, just look at the way they look at each other,” interrupts a second news anchor, “it’s clear that they share a special bond.” The rest is drowned out by a rushing sound in Ray’s ears, who glances over to gauge Brad’s reaction, only to find him already looking at Ray.

“Brad, I…”, It’s not often that Ray Person is at a loss for words; not a comforting thought in this moment. Instead, Ray shakes his head, and bolts, leaving before he can fuck this up anymore.

“Ray! Ray! Goddamnit, you sister fucking idiot! Stop, Jesus fucking Christ!”, he can hear Brad yelling behind him, but does his best to ignore him; he certainly has practice at it.

Next time he glances at his surroundings, he’s driving ninety down the highway in his truck.

Eventually, he stops to check Google Maps, and realizes that he’s left his phone on the counter, probably in a puddle of black coffee. Miserably, he recalls that it’s probably the last time he’ll listen to Brad’s voice for a long time. He can’t even call him in a drunken haze to hear him rant, that is, if he picks up. The Iceman isn’t really one for words.

Ray finds himself at Walton Lake, where he used to swim as a kid - even when he’s not conscious, he ends up near landmarks that remind him of Brad. He laughs bitterly.

Since it’s only ten in the morning, he hunts around for a beer in the cab of his truck, and slouches down to the lake, laying underneath a tree. He figures that sleeping is his only hope of passing enough time to forget how colossally he has fucked up his life. He skips rocks for a while, and ends up watching the local kids push each other into the water. It only makes him feel worse. He suddenly recalls all the times Brad had given him that wry smile in the Humvee rolling through desolate wasteland after desolate wasteland. He was always checking in on him, “easy on the Ripped Fuel, Ray”, or an (almost) gently phrased “stay frosty, gents.” Ray drops his head between his legs; god, he is so fucked. He knows that he loves Brad, and that’s what terrifies him. It’s so much easier to throw insults back and forth, antagonize him with Avril Lavigne and Ripped Fuel Rants - he knows how Brad will react to those quirks. This… this is uncharted territory.

Finally, Ray decides that wallowing in self pity won’t accomplish anything further - going home to a Brad free house is going to hurt either way, might as well get it over with.

                                                     <GK>

He opens the door cautiously, not ready to be confronted with an empty house. He sucks in a breathe when his eyes are immediately drawn to the straight back figure sitting at the kitchen counter. Brad’s eyes meet his, and Ray is suddenly reminded that his demeanor isn’t the only reason they call him the Iceman. Quietly, he closes the door, and makes for his bedroom, hoping for as clean a confrontation as possible, but Brad is off his stool and pinning (?) him against the wall of his bedroom hall.

“No, Ray. We are going to talk about this. Like the semi-adults that the Corpse raised us to be. Do you think your disease ridden brain can handle a simple five minute conversation?” Brad says it calmly, ice laced in his voice, but the grip that he has around Ray’s wrists communicates something entirely different. He nods in response. Still, Brad makes not attempt to move them, only pinning Ray further into the wall.

“Did you know about the media coverage this morning? Is that why you refused to go on a run like a pussy bitch?” Clearly, the interrogation has begun.

Ray avoids Brad’s eyes as best he can: “What do you think, Bradley? That I was just going to drop that kind of bomb on you first thing in the morning? Oh, by the way, the Internet thinks that we’re in love, and it’s trending on Twitter and all the other god forsaken social medias that tween girls consume these days. I know you think you’re some sort of demolitions expert, but not even you’re qualified to diffuse that kind of ammunition, Brad. So fuck you, yes, I knew. And no, I didn’t say anything.”

Brad forces Ray’s chin up with one hand, while the other pins both of his wrists above his head. “Why?”, he asks simply, his eyes like chips of hard sapphire.

“Fuck you, Brad. You wanna know why? You dying to know that fucking badly? Because I knew that you finding out would ruin this,” - he jerks his chin to indicate the two of them. “But, if the Internet found out, then I guess it’s pretty fucking obvious”. Ray laughs again, a caustic sound.

“What’s obvious?”, Brad’s voice is almost a growl now, clearly beyond pissed off with Ray. “Ray?”

“That I’m fucking in love with you, that’s what.” Ray practically spits it in his face; he’s so tired of holding it in. Fuck it, if Brad wants him to ruin this with the truth, then so be it.

Brad steps back so suddenly that Ray is slammed against the wall, his head cracking painfully. He closes his eyes against the sensation, waiting for Brad to walk away, to walk out - it’s the only ending to this unfortunate series of events.

“You’re what?” The softness of Brad’s tone is the most startling aspect of the phrase to Ray - why hasn’t he walked away yet? “You’re what?”, Brad repeats, blinking almost owlishly as Ray finally looks at him.

“I’m in love with you”, Ray says flatly. What does Brad want out of this? To rub in the satisfaction that he’s managed to force his biggest secret out of him?

“Say it again”, Brad steps closer, effectively repinning Ray, who is frankly getting tired of his internal organs being punished over five treacherous words.

“I’m in love with you?” The end comes up in a question like inflection, seriously Brad, what is going on…?

Brad laughs out loud, probably the strangest turn of events in an already bizarre day; Ray is too exhausted to fight any longer, so he just rests his head against the wall.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for you to tell me”, Ray’s head snaps back up. “Seriously?”

It’s Brad’s turn to nod. “You jumped out of our Humvee screaming at Batista to back the fuck up, since apparently your mother gave you barely enough braincells to eat fucking toast, toast, Ray. That’s when I knew.” The confession is quiet, splitting the air, since Brad is only inches now from Ray’s face.

“You love me?”, the questions is hedged in hesitation, but goddamnit if Ray doesn’t want to hear it back.

The Iceman nods, but it’s all the confirmation that Ray needs. It would be easy, so easy, to bridge the gap. All Ray would have to do is lean in. Fuck it. So he does.

Brad reacts immediately, pinning both of Ray’s wrists against the wall with one massive hand, and cupping his face with the other. The kiss isn’t by any means gentle, nor is it coordinated. It’s wet, and messy, and (cliched as it might be) everything Ray imagined it would be. Ray stretches upwards to tug Brad’s lower lip into his mouth, and Brad lets out an imperceptible moan. He shoves at Ray’s t-shirt until he musters up enough coordination to lift it over his head.

“I couldn’t concentrate this morning, with you in my t-shirt”, Brad mutters against his neck. “I couldn’t stop thinking about how many ways I could think of getting it off you”. Ray groans and tilts his neck, giving Brad better access with which to suck marks along the column of his throat. When Brad scrapes his teeth along his Adam’s apple, he practically whimpers - self-respect has just hit an all time low.

Ray’s hands, which have found their way to Brad’s waist dip lower, and squeeze. He growls against Ray’s throat, and sets them on his shoulders. Ray uses the leverage to wrap his legs around Brad’s waist, laughing internally at the familiar position. “Bedroom?”, he mutters to Brad. The jerk of breathe that he takes from the query seems to be answer enough, as he bodily carries Ray to his bed, dumping him on it in the process. Brad shucks off his sweatpants and crawls up the bed, intent on getting Ray out of his jeans as quickly and (ideally) with as little finesse as possible, or so it seems to him.

As Brad curses up a small storm, fighting with the buttons like they’re grenades, Ray deftly unbuttons them, squirming indelicately out of them, and making Brad snort with laughter. Ray grins back at him, “if the early bird gets the worm, does that mean I get the sausage?”. The fond and bemused smile that Brad gives him is worth the blow to his pride that the joke costs him. Without warning, Ray flips them, positioning himself firmly between Brad’s thighs, and begins sucking at his clavicle.

He trails kisses trails down to one nipple, and scrapes his teeth across it, eliciting a moan from Brad. “Didn’t know you were a nipple man, Brad”, Ray jibes softly, choosing to divert his attention to the other aforementioned object.

“Shut up, Ray”, Brad’s words come out stilted, through clenched teeth, as he attempts to keep himself from making too much noise.

Ray merely hums, and continues his oratory exploration.

He finds that tonguing over Brad’s abs make them jump in succession, and that his belly button is surrounded by a delicate trail of white blonde hair that disappears into his navy boxers. (“Navy, Brad? What kind of Marine are you? You don’t want your nuts to be disguised in camo? It’s so sad, that I show more priority to them than you do!”)

Ray bites at Brad’s left hipbone, watching for the way his entire body jumps with pleasure at the pain. Before he can continue though, Brad has flipped them again, and beginning biting his way down Ray’s chest.

“Dude, whoa, Jesus, it’s going to look like I was attack by a wolf. Fuck Brad, fuck, fuck”, Ray can’t seem to make his mouth stop, watching Brad suck marks onto his abdomen and hip bones. He noses his way further down, pulling Ray’s boxers down with his teeth. Ray wants to make a snarky comment about the coordination that that must take, but is currently lacking the brain cells to even think, let alone speak.

It now appears Brad has pulled his boxers down far enough to bite at his inner thighs, making Ray’s cock jump, and littering his legs with messy bites. “Jesus Brad, are you some kind of fucking vampire? Fuck.” He starts to move lower, but Ray grabs his wrist before he can move. “Whoa there, Lone Ranger, we don’t have to do it all in one night, we can take it slow. Seriously. C’mere, Bradley. Come cuddle your Ray-Ray.”

“Ray, I swear you were dropped on the head as a child. No, I guarantee that if I asked your mother, she would tell me she purposely dropped you, thinking it might improve that face.” Brad seems slightly disgruntled at being interrupted from his task, but complies nonetheless. Effectively, he wraps his body around Ray’s in a pseudo cuddle position, crushing him. “Happy?”

Ray squirms and shoves until he’s pushed Brad onto his back, and is sprawled on Brad’s chest, chin propped up so he can look at him.

“We have all the time in the world, Brad. Seriously, we could not move for the next six days, and the world wouldn’t notice. Plus, who else is going to force feed me pineapple pizza?”

“Ray, if you eat anymore pizza, you’re going to gain ten pounds, develop diabetes, and then be rushed to the hospital for a coronary heart transplant. Now go to sleep, or I’ll knock you out myself.”

“You’d still hold my hand during the ambulance ride, though.” Ray Person, finally getting the guy, and the last word.

And, when the alarm clock blares at six the next morning, and Brad forces Ray to run five miles to make up for the loss of yesterday, they’ll both laugh and shove each other, and it will feel like nothing has changed. The after workout shower might now involve two bodies instead of one, but who would notice, except for them?

And, when an official invite to attend the Obama’s annual Easter Egg Hunt arrives in April, Ray will just laugh and claim that they’re Jewish and cannot attend (“bullshit Ray, we’re both atheists, stop using my parents as an excuse”), and Brad will call them exactly what they are, the poster children of DADT, big fucking stereotypes, and to many, big fucking heroes. And no, Ray is still not a rock star, but he is Internet famous, thanks to his hyper active brain, and a ten foot tall Jewish Viking. But you just heard it through the grapevine, didn’t you…?

[thedailychalkboard]

Into the Unknown

Donald Rumsfeld, former United States Secretary of Defense made a statement on February 12th, 2002 during a news briefing. When asked a question about intelligence gathering he said; “… there are things we know we know. … there are some things we do not know. But there are also unknown unknowns …if one looks throughout the history of our country and other free countries; it is the latter category that tend to be the difficult ones.”   No kidding.

As ridiculous as this statement may seem at first glance it bears contemplation, especially given the vitriolic and seething politically charged climate that I consider the world to be in at present. Let’s be honest here. We are influenced by the events and voices surrounding us at all times. We each have opinions that we either choose to keep to our self, share within our circle of influence or display on a visual, written or verbal pedestal in hopes that the whole world will see and marvel at it.

It’s never been easier in the history of mankind for an individual to share their thoughts, actions or personal experience with a worldwide audience. Social media makes this possible in absolutely unprecedented ways. Who could have imagined a mere handful of decades ago that one person with a device small enough to fit in their pocket could so easily influence the thoughts and incite to action tens of millions of other people?  Today truly is a brave new world down on the farm and the day has dawned on one of humanity’s greatest unknown unknowns. What we do know, and what is widely accepted, is that this ability to share with the rest of the world in an instant is a double edged sword that has begun to cut deeply into the fabric of society.

At the risk of losing some readers to boredom let me give you a short rundown on my perception of the root cause of the current problem.  Humanity is voyeuristic by nature. We are hard wired at birth to watch and listen to what our environment is doing. Our powers of observation are absorbed through our senses of hearing, sight, touch, taste and smell.  This sensory input is then analyzed by our on board computer we call a brain. Then, through the process of deduction and reason, we make decisions about how to think about and respond to what we hear, see, feel, smell and taste.  Of these five senses the two most basic and influential are our hearing and sight which control the most rudimentary of our survival instincts. Do we run away or stand and fight? It’s that simple.

Our immediate response to outside stimuli is first and foremost influenced by what we see and hear even if not supported by truth or fact. How we choose to initially approach this outside stimuli is often pretty basic. Are we faced with friend, foe, happiness, comfort, fear, love, acceptance, ignorance, hate, belonging or isolation? The problem is as the level of social sophistication has increased over the ages our fight or flight reflexes have not always kept pace. We often open ourselves up to situations where our first impressions and reactions are incorrect and based on incomplete or faulty facts.  Given our present day technological ability to tune in and turn on to nearly anything we wish, whenever and wherever, and a voyeuristic infatuation spurred on by powerful marketing forces pushing immediate gratification, we find ourselves willing participants in emotional manipulation and group think. But don’t take my word for it.

 Go to any sporting event and observe the actions and reactions of the spectators in the stands as much as what happens on the sporting field of battle.  It’s fight or flight. It’s either human nature at its finest or its worst depending upon how you choose to view it. Our views will always be skewed towards what we know, what we fear, what we like and what we are willing to accept. It’s what we don’t know, but think we do, that muddies the waters and creates the problem. This is the ultimate “unknown unknown”.

Remember the movie King Kong? Actually, you might remember quite a few King Kong movies if you’ve been around as long as I have. Regardless, the story remains the same. The big bad, misunderstood monster is perceived as a threat to mankind. The first instinct is to run away. The second instinct is to dominate and eliminate the threat. Finally, it takes cooler heads and keener observation to finally understand that the monster, with all its negative qualities, just wants to be left alone and has as much right to exist as anyone or anything else. Critical thinking finally kicks in but it’s too late. The misunderstood monster dies in the end, but at least the allegory in the movie has shown us the ugly errors of prejudice and intolerance and the importance of coming together to fight and right a common wrong, right? Thus, we walk out of the theater or turn off our smart viewing device and settle back to contemplate how this newfound information can make us more understanding and tolerant humans, right? Ah that this were so.

The reason most of our first impressions and reactions are wrong is because more often than not in today’s world we are relying on our less than perfect, faulty, hearing and sight. It’s less than perfect and faulty not by nature, but instead, due to being filtered through the selective sieve of those whose goal is to manipulate us into thinking and feeling in a way that is beneficial to their cause, purpose or agenda, and we love it! In fact we just cannot get enough of it! We eat it up, day in and day out, not thinking for our self, or of specific and calculated consequences to ourselves or others.  We choose instead to let someone else do the thinking for us. It’s just easier, and more entertaining, that way. We don’t know what’s going to happen next and, yes, we are truly into the unknown. In fact the more unknown and unreliable the more we appear to enjoy it! Let’s prod the monster with our digital electronic stick and see what happens next. Let’s not think about consequences or reactions or whether it’s a good, honorable, respectful or right thing to do. Let’s just do it and see what happens next. We are the “unknown unknown” that Donald Rumsfeld spoke of nearly two decades ago. Indeed it is our very nature to predictably act this way. However we don’t have to be. We simply choose to be.

My instinct tells me that often when confronted with things we find objectionable and not to our liking we are shining the light in the wrong direction. The monster of the dark isn’t under the bed, hiding in the closet, on some fictional island, or in another part of town or the world at all. The monster dwells within each of us. Like the pod people of a B rated science fiction flick we’ve been consumed by a pervasive veil of darkness and therefore don’t recognize it as such. We fail to see it for what it is even when it’s literally staring back at us in the mirror, force fed to us on the nightly news or in the palm of our hand as we tap out tiny messages to people, sight unseen, who we hope to influence in 140 characters or less. We are the unrelenting and unforgiving unknown.

I used to hear and believe that one of the primary reasons for attending college or university was to learn how to exercise critical thinking. I’m not sure this is the case any longer. There appears to be a lack of desire to accept understanding, critical thinking, free speech or diverse opinion within many of our hallowed halls of higher education. Critical thinking seems to have been replaced instead with an emotionally charged response to critically manipulate and codify special interests and pit one against the other like some great universal spectator sporting event. I don’t know about you but the way I see it if one side is unceremoniously eliminated from attending this engagement then we all eventually suffer by losing the whole ballgame.

The good news is there are ways through this mess. In order to do so it’s going to take honest effort, genuine acceptance and a willingness to put aside pet prejudices and perceptions and truly listen to one another. This means taking an intellectual stance of critical thinking and admittance that we will really not know a damned thing about one another until we are ready and willing to accept the fact that each of us, individually, not as some group ethnically, physically, socially or spiritually, is as genuinely different and unique from one another as the scientific and social truth and facts point out we are. Agreement to this one fact alone will go a long way to helping begin to put so many of these hot button issues on a level playing field of understanding. Personally I won’t allow myself to be categorized or placed in anyone’s restrictive hypothetical box and neither should you.

The next time you sit at or pick up your “smart device” realize that the “smart” in that device starts with you. Don’t get sucked into divisive or negative conversations and lines of reasoning. Use some judgment and exercise that individuality you’ve been telling everyone else you have ever since you were telling everyone about it back in junior high school. You’re not required to accept what you see and hear just because it comes from a so called trusted source, even if that source is one you’ve previously found to be trustworthy or that you’ve appreciated, looked up to and admired in the past. Think for yourself. You are the unknown that makes life for the rest of us a beautiful mystery. So, let the rest of us get to truly know who you are in a constructive and meaningful way. Stand up, stand out and when you let your voice be heard, let it be a voice of reason, acceptance and understanding. You don’t have to run and you don’t have to fight.  You just have to be known as someone who cares not just for them self but someone who truly cares for all others as well. It’s only a battle if you choose to make it one. I care. No kidding.

#michaelddavis

©2017 Michael D. Davis   All Rights Reserved

Michael D. Davis is a communicator by vocation, a mentor by avocation and a social media maven by choice. His work can be found on popular channels on the web and on his blog at http://thedailychalkboard.tumblr.com/   Michael welcomes your comments and invites you to join him. Just Google #michaelddavis or #thedailychalkboard to find him and request to connect.

[xcaptainhannax]

By Your Side (Jasper Hale x Reader)

Prompt: “I'm sorry this is kinda an odd request but could you please write something were the reader is Jasper's human mate and she hasn't been sleeping for several days due to nightmares that wouldn't go away so she gave up on sleeping and one day she's out with the whole Cullen fam and she faints and Jasper confront and comforts her about the issues?” (requested)

Word Count: 1,488

A/N: I’m slowly catching up to my requests, still I have a couple and more on my ask, so be patient, please! I’m still without wifi but at my mother’s house. Anyway, enjoy!

They didn’t stop; they just came back haunting me at night, keeping me awake for countless hours and it started to be unhealthy, the 8 hours that an average human is supposed to sleep I could only get 1 or 2 If I was lucky enough, the rest it was all caffeine, nothing else could keep me through the day. There was only one exception, and it was Jasper. Whenever he was around me I could finally sleep but I couldn’t ask him to come into my house every night just to help me sleep, even if he would agree, it was too much, or it seemed too much for me.

I sighed deeply brushing my hands against my face in frustration; I turned my head to look at my nightstand and stared at the clock.

6:45 a.m.

I moaned, I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep again so I just stood up and made my way to the bathroom. Once I was ready I headed to the kitchen with my phone on my hands, luckily today it was Saturday so I wouldn’t have to deal with exhaustion and maths, also, today it was supposed to rain and that meant thunders which also meant that the Cullen were going to play baseball, and of course, Jasper invited me.

I pour myself some coffee and sat down on the couch pulling my phone out again and going through my social media trying to get my head away from the nightmares, I knew that they appeared only when I was asleep but the past few days I started to get absolutely afraid that something will trigger me and the nightmares would appear in front of me

My life was a complete mess.

At 10:35 I received a text from Jasper letting me know that he was coming for me and thank God I got ready beforehand knowing how fast he gets to my house, I had enough time to put make up on, concealing my dark circles, of course, they didn’t disappear but they didn’t look that bad, it was just the normal “I don’t sleep, I’m a teenager that spends the nights online” look.

And just as I imagined five minutes later Jasper was outside my house, with his usual charming smile that sent shivers down my spine and his mesmerizing golden eyes that I could look into all my life if I could.

“Hey, babe, ready for the game?” he asked raising one eyebrow and smirking at me, I laughed softly. “I’m winning today, just letting you know” he got closer and hugged me tightly.

“Stop lying to her, Jasper, please stop embarrassing yourself!” Emmett screamed from behind us making me laugh. I grabbed Jasper’s cold hand and gripped it tightly, at this he looked straight into my eyes and smiled again.

“Let’s go” he whispered and we started to walk to the field.

I couldn’t put into words how much I enjoyed watching the Cullen play, they just seemed so much relaxed when they were playing that made me relax as well, and the men would always end up fighting about silly things, even though Rosalie would take part on those fights too, they were extremely competitive and it was funny to watch that.

During the game, I could feel myself getting tired, keeping my eyes open became to be a struggle and I had to readjust myself from my sitting position on the ground, and Alice, who was sitting next to me, could notice that too.

“Are you okay, (Y/N)?” she asked softly caressing my arm with her hand and I nodded.

“Yes, just a little tired, that’s all, Al” It wasn’t a lie, I was tired as hell and there was nothing else in my mind that the thought of me going to sleep but I easily shrugged those thoughts off when the nightmares appeared on my mind again.

“(Y/N), come here! We need your help” Emmett’s voice interrupted us and I turned my head to look at him, he was grinning like mad and I had no idea what they wanted from me.

“Fuck off, Emmett, you cheated, get over it” Edward pushed him playfully and but Emmett didn’t even move an inch.

“Shut up, please, I’m talking to her” he responded looking at him but he turned quickly to look at me again almost with a pleading look in his eyes.

I groaned but got up anyway brushing my clothes trying to clean myself a little.

“Okay, I’m going” I answered but the second I started moving I had to stop, my head began to pound and everything around me looked blurry, dizziness took over me like a crashing wave and I was difficult to keep myself steady.

“(Y/N), what happens?” I could barely hear Alice’s voice behind me but before I could even answer I fell to the ground and closed my eyes before drifting into darkness Jasper’s voice was the last thing that I heard.

“(Y/N)!”

I slowly tried to open my eyes, which was rather difficult, there was something on the back of my mind that kept telling me to go back and let sleep consume me, but I didn’t want to.

Once I opened my eyes successfully I met those golden eyes that make my heart flutter, but this time the only thing that I could see in them was pain and concern.

I moved my body from the bed that I suspected Jasper had placed me and sat with my back placed on the headboard, Jasper made his way from the spot that he was standing and sat down next to me, he grabbed my hand and squeezed it a little.

“I know something is wrong and I want you to tell me what’s happening so I know how I can help you” he tilted his head smiling at me; I knew he was trying to soothe me with his powers and it was certainly working.

I closed my eyes and sighed before opening them again and looked at him straight into his eyes.

“It’s…it’s nothing really” I couldn’t help but to stumble through my words, I was starting to feel embarrassed about confessing to him.

The grip on my hand tightened a little bit making me wince, it didn’t hurt a lot but he surely was strong.

“I thought we trusted each other, love, tell me” he paused and rose an eyebrow at me “what’s wrong?”

I knew he wasn’t doing this on purpose to hurt me, he would never even try to harm me in any way, I knew this was his way of protecting me and showing that he cared. I shifted uncomfortably and tried to reassure myself that everything was okay.

“I’ve been having nightmares the past few days” I finally let out “they are extremely bad and I haven’t been able to sleep well so I just ditched the idea of sleeping because they always came back a-and “I sniffed and the tears were moving down from my eyes to my face almost instantly. I took a deep breath and continued “Every time I close my eyes I just see the same thing and it’s driving me crazy”

Jasper immediately pulled me into his arms hugging me close to his strong body as I let the tears fall freely down my face, sobbing uncontrollably. I could hear Jasper’s voice through my ear whispering sweet things to me and eventually, I calmed down, thankful for Jasper’s ability to make me relax enough so I wasn’t a sobbing mess.

He pulled away a little so he could see my face and moved a strand of hair out of the way before he pressed his lips onto mine, giving me a little peck and pressed our foreheads together.

“You should have told me before, (Y/N),” he whispered as his caressed my face with his thumb “I would have done anything to make those nightmares go away”

He then pulled away completely and stood up walking to the other side of the bed lying down next to me, and pulling me closer to his body, I instantly put my arms around his torso and his arms found their way to my waist; he place his chin on top of my head and I pressed my head on his chest.

I tried to force myself to stay awake afraid that the nightmares would come back, but, I knew that having Jasper by my side they probably won’t.

“Try to sleep a little, (Y/N), I know you are tired” he whispered and kiss the top of my head, letting his lips linger a little bit longer “I will be here, I will always be here”

And with that I let myself drift to sleep with his body still pressed against mine, holding him as tight as I could, knowing that for once I could have a decent sleep.  

[shirlleycoyle]

Keep your distance from COVID-19 misinformation

This is the first blog post by student science writer Mary Magnuson.

It’s easy for anyone monitoring the pandemic through months of 24-hour news cycles to pick up on false information or conspiracy theories.

We talked to University of Wisconsin–Madison experts to figure out why global events like the COVID-19 pandemic might give rise to this on social media – and how to avoid sharing false information.

As the pandemic continues to affect people around the globe, conspiracy theories about the virus have spread through social media and the internet — the notable one a 26-minute long video called “Plandemic.”

In this video, a discredited scientist shares debunked conspiracies about how a group of elites used the virus and potential vaccines for profit. The information in the video was deemed markedly false by experts, and sites like YouTube, Facebook and others worked to take down every iteration of the video.

A protestor in Ohio wields a sign referring to at least one common COVID-19 conspiracy theory and a popular source of misinformation. Source: Flickr user Becker1999

But questions remain. How do conspiracies like this spread, especially in times of uncertainty, like a pandemic? And what can we do to stop them?

Two UW–Madison professors, Dietram Scheufele and Ajay Sethi, helped provide some answers. Scheufele works in the Department of Life Sciences Communication (LSC), where he studies public attitudes around science and science policy. Sethi works in the School of Medicine and Public Health, where he studies the spread of infectious diseases.

How does what you typically study inform your expertise during the pandemic?

Scheufele: A lot of our work with the scimep group here in LSC tries to figure out how we all make sense of complex emerging science that we — in most cases — know little about. COVID-19 is exactly that. Not only are most of us not experts in virology, epidemiology or public health, but the science on COVID-19 is very much in flux, with new findings constantly proving yesterday’s science wrong.

Sethi: I’m an infectious disease epidemiologist. My research focuses on factors associated with the transmission and natural history of infectious diseases, including HIV and healthcare associated infections. Although I have not previously studied coronaviruses, common methods used in infectious disease epidemiology can be applied to the study of most if not all pathogens.

How do I know if the information I’m reading about COVID-19 is accurate and trustworthy?

Scheufele: The fact that much of the science on COVID-19 is far from conclusive at this point doesn’t mean that there is not good expert advice to go by. The CDC (Centers for Disease Control and Prevention), WHO (World Health Organization) and many other organizations are maintaining websites devoted to COVID-19. Those include advice and best practices related to wearing masks, social distancing, if it’s safe to get takeout, etc.

In spite of the bad rap they sometimes get, social media are also a great tool for learning from some of the best experts on COVID-19. Journalists like Helen Branswell or Maryn McKenna (who have actually been both science writers in residence here at UW) have spent their careers writing on and researching infectious diseases and routinely share their work on Twitter. I follow them there not just for their own work, but also because they do a great job vetting and contextualizing the constant stream of information that’s coming our way on corona.

Ajay Sethi

Sethi: First, it is important to recognize that there is a lot of new information about COVID-19 coming out all the time. New knowledge learned is subject to change as the science and study of COVID-19 advances. So, what we thought was true yesterday is not necessarily so tomorrow. That can make it challenging to know whether what you are reading about COVID-19 is accurate. It’s important to evaluate the source to be sure it is reputable and unbiased. Look for peer-reviewed information when possible. When reading information found on a website, I suggest evaluating the website for its credibility, and there are a number of checklists and tools available to do that.

What determines what information people are drawn to consuming and sharing?

Scheufele: That’s a complicated question. We live in a time that is very paradoxical when it comes to the information we all receive. On the one hand, the internet has made it easier than ever before to find the best information quickly, no matter where we are and with little effort. What would have required a trip to the Library of Congress even just 25 years ago, is now one click and a couple of swipes away on our smartphones. On the other hand, apps and algorithms have also made it easier than ever before to avoid any information we don’t want to see or that doesn’t fit our worldview.

Sethi: We are all susceptible to living in bubbles, and getting comfortable in our echo chambers. It can be human nature to surround ourselves with people and ideas that confirm what we believe to be true about the world, which in turn makes us feel good about ourselves and reinforces our worldview.

Are outbreaks like this especially ripe for conspiracy theories?

Scheufele: There’s little systematic evidence that we’re seeing more or fewer conspiracy theories on COVID-19 that we normally do. Of course, it seems like they’re everywhere, but we also need to realize that there is very little news other than COVID-19 right now, and we’re all spending a lot more time online and on our phones than we usually do. But looney ideas like the idea that the Gates Foundation is promoting vaccines for population control or economic gain have been around for years. COVID-19 has just given them new visibility.

But it’s also important to keep in mind that this is a time with almost unprecedented uncertainty and unpredictability for most of us. We have little control over the emergence of viruses like COVID-19. We don’t know what our future holds. And there is no good way out of the crisis that doesn’t require disruptions to our way of life. As a result, it is not particularly surprising that many of us are trying to find ways of making sense of this highly uncertain and deeply unpredictable situation. In the 1940s, social psychologists Fritz Heider and Marianne Simmel showed clips of animated geometric shapes to participants, only to find that many of them attributed human characteristics, motivations and intentions to what were randomly moving circles and triangles. That human tendency to attribute structure and meaning to fairly random sets of events is also what explains the intuitive appeal of movies like “Plandemic”: They give the appearance of meaning and convey a sense of control during a deadly pandemic which likely emerged somewhat randomly, and that has left us with limited control over the spread of a deadly virus.

Sethi: Yes, and there are many examples in history. During times of uncertainty and fear, we can have feelings of losing control. Denialism can also be a reaction. To make sense of stressful situations that develop suddenly with no signs of going away, like the COVID-19 crisis, we may be drawn to explanations to help us feel better about the realities of what we are facing.

I am not a psychologist by any means, but I read research related to the psychology of adopting and perpetuating conspiracies to include in my course, Conspiracies in Public Health. I also find it is useful to read the literature to keep myself from adopting misinformed views.

Why does misinformation about the virus spread so quickly?

Scheufele: There’s little social science that suggests that misinformation about COVID-19 spreads any faster or slower than correct information. In fact, I think we need to be very careful about how we talk about misinformation.

Of course there are things that are clearly wrong. Neither snorting cocaine nor injecting bleach will cure or prevent corona. And they were debunked pretty quickly on both social and legacy media.

What makes things more complicated for science during the current pandemic is what I would call the corona Catch-22: In the public arena, we can only get predictive modeling or mitigation right, but not both. The more successful we are at mitigation, the more inaccurate initial models will appear in hindsight. In other words, looking back people will think that initial models of how COVID-19 would spread had it wrong, precisely because those models encouraged the right policies that helped us avoid worst case scenarios.

The second problem is that there is little settled science on COVID-19. Much of the scientific work on the virus, its spread, and the effectiveness of different interventions is in flux, to say the least. New science constantly proves previous findings wrong. And that’s the way science is supposed to work. It’s supposed to self-correct and iterate toward the best possible explanations. During normal times, that’s just fine. Science plays out over long periods of time, with policy following in due course. For COVID-19, science and policy are emerging at the same time and with breakneck speed. This raises two problems: (a) The uncertainties surrounding science and policy end up overlapping in public perception, and science gets blamed for the inevitable missteps of public policy. (b) Battling misinformation on COVID-19 with science that itself might turn out to be wrong is not a winning proposition for the scientific community. We wrote about that here.

What should I do if someone I know shares or promotes misinformation or a conspiracy theory about the virus?

Scheufele: Debunking is a double-edged sword. It typically requires repeating and — especially on social media — giving additional visibility to misinformation. Some research suggests that this can reinforce rather than debunk inaccurate beliefs or even conspiracy thinking. This doesn’t mean that there is no value in pointing your friends or social media contacts to Snopes.com or any credible resource that debunks misinformation. The idea is to do it in a way that’s constructive, and to keep in mind that we’ve all shared misinformation at some point, even if we don’t remember it.

Twitter post with false (but kind of believable) information

But all of that is based on the assumption that we’re sharing misinformation because we cannot tell that it’s fake. And sometimes that is true. But often, we share information without checking because it fits what we already believe. If I don’t like Trump, I am motivated to find information that makes him look bad. There was a Tweet about President Trump saying that “HUNDREDS of Governors” were calling him that made the rounds on my social media feeds recently, and was retweeted by many of my academic friends. It was fake of course, and a 3-second Google search would have shown that. So, it’s not that people couldn’t tell it was fake. They didn’t care, because it so perfectly fit their expectations and prior attitudes on Trump. One of our doctoral students and I wrote about many of those motivations that often make us believe in misinformation on an open-access article in PNAS (Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences).

  Sethi: I think it depends on your comfort level and how well you know the person. Some people might choose to avoid confrontation, which is understandable. If their actions cause your blood pressure to go up, it would be best to calm yourself down before saying anything. I also think it’s important to re-visit why you disagree with what they shared just to make sure you have your own facts straight. Things are rarely clear-cut.

So, after all that, if you decide to engage with them, I think it starts with active listening. As an aside, for a while after college (a long time ago!), I was a volunteer crisis counselor. So, my own instincts were formed from that training and experience. I’m no expert, but again, I know listening is important. So is asking questions. And then listening some more. Understand where they are coming from. Identify shared interests and emotions. You may or may not choose to volunteer your own views on the subject. It depends if you are asked for them and if you have established trust with them. That can take time to build, maybe many conversations. Avoid launching into explanations or proving how knowledgeable you are. It causes people to stop listening.

Science is filled with uncertainty, while misinformation often promotes concrete “facts” and “solutions.” Is there a way responsible science communication can achieve both?

Sethi: Understand your audience each time and start by asking what people want to learn from you. Go from there. Always be honest about what you know and what you don’t know. Be consistent, and don’t overstate findings. Learn to communicate nuance artfully. Avoid “dumping” information on people.

What can governments or corporations do to halt misinformation or conspiracies? In an ideal society, what should their respective roles be to curb conspiracies?

Sethi: All institutions have to decide when the spread of misinformed opinions and conspiracies require intervention. It’s important to respect people’s autonomy and rights to express themselves, but we should not tolerate the proverbial “shouting fire in a crowded theater.” I have my ideas as to where to draw the line and what institutions could do, but when I begin to apply them situation-to-situation, I realize it’s not an easy problem to solve.

What role does higher education play in creating citizens equipped to evaluate information? How will the pandemic inform your teaching going forward?

Scheufele: My colleague Dominique Brossard has written extensively on the idea of deference toward scientific authority. Why do we have faith in experts? What is it about science as a way of producing knowledge that makes us follow it more than other ways of knowing? Is it peer review? The scientific process? Her work shows nicely that our faith in scientific institutions is strongly related to K-12 and even K-16 schooling. In other words, education is partly about learning facts, but those facts change over time, especially for COVID-19. Instead, the power of education comes from building faith in science as our best way of knowing.

We actually talk about that in my large undergraduate lecture course in Science, Media and Society. It enrolls students from five or six different colleges at UW who major in genetics, politics, business, engineering, and communication, to just name a few. And COVID-19 already ended up being a large part of this past semester, even before we shifted to online teaching after spring break. How do we all make sense of this global pandemic? How can societies navigate very difficult trade-offs between economic considerations, public health, and individual rights as we’re trying to contain its spread? And what does it mean for Google to work with government and academia to track citizens’ cell phones to model and monitor new infections? LSC 251 going to be offered again this summer and the fall, and I am pretty sure that COVID-19 will be a permanent and probably growing part of what we’ll be talking about.

Sethi: Institutions of higher education are places where ideas and knowledge are learned and exchanged. It’s where “sifting and winnowing” occurs. It begins with teaching and reminding ourselves how to be objective, curious learners.

I began teaching Conspiracies in Public Health three years ago because I grew increasingly concerned about the unraveling of longstanding public health achievements and how previously innocuous topics suddenly became hot button issues. Learning about popular and less popular conspiracies is not the focus of the course. I created the class so that students could explore the psycho-social basis for conspiracy thinking and develop or refine their skills in listening and talking to people with differing views on health and public health topics. Misinformation and conspiracies about COVID-19 provide opportunities for me to fortify the class with contemporary material and opportunities for students to draw connections between course content with what we are reading in the news every day.

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