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#as it does trigger a sort of... past history with height differences with partners
greendaleshistorian · 5 years
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So... I have a lot of feelings about the scene in CAOS P3E7 between Lilith and Lucifer. The one in Mary's cottage. A lot of indiscernible, chaotic feelings, mind you. But one of them pertained to Lilith and Lucifer's height difference. And in the spirit of science (and spite), I decided to conduct an experiment.
Thanks to @its-a-goode-day for the knowledge that Gillian Anderson stood on a box during the X-Files and to both @its-a-goode-day and @paradox-n-bedrock for the support.
So for some references. I'm... almost exactly Lilith/Michelle's height without heels (1.61m, or 5'3"). Luke Cook is 6'5". So with that in mind... the mission starts.
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Please forgive my messy kitchen, this is for science...
I used sticky notes as height place holders.
‐orange is the top of Lucifer's head
- pink would be his nose
- yellow would be his lips
- blue is the top of my/lilith's head without heels
- green, which I add later, would be about Lucifer's eye level
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I started out trying to recreate the "wide shot." This involved putting down my closet step stool and standing on it. And even then? It wasn't working. So I put some books on top of those. The orange sticky is a bit above the frame in the picture above, but I did get it in the picture below.
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I eventually settle on this (above) for the wide shot. Also, apologies these pictures are not the clearest. I debated getting my camera but I was afraid to drop it. I had to kind of assess the clips, because none of the shots had both actors standing upright AND a straight on angle. So things was the best approximation I had, seeing as my forehead was about at the nose level.
I called it a day for this wide shot and then got more books to try to simulate the height difference shown here...
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Where there's a far smaller distance between their general sort of visual, height alignment. So, my forehead at approximate nose level? I understand this visual is heavily skewed but we're rolling with it. Lucifer is leaning down, Lilith is looking up.
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At this point, I'm this many books deep. And risking my ankle for this.
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So we're getting closer... and I did sort of settle for this seeing as, again, that scene is skewed. I am another inch and a half or so higher in this one than the last, which I'm sure is hard to see.
But the BIG takeaway is...
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This blue sticky note has not changed places. It is still about half a foot above the light switch. And it is down by my hand since I'm standing on a step stool with 2-3 books on it and about 1.5-2 inch heels.
Which is... a little ridiculous? And funny in an awkward way.
Final Results?
So to say how tall a crate Lilith/Michelle would have to stand on...?
Wide Shot? About 9.25 inches and 1.75 inch heels.
Close Up? About 10.5 inches and 1.75 inch heels.
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motherhenna · 5 years
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Writers Rants: Backstory
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How to Smoothly Integrate a Character’s Past into the Narrative
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If you are even remotely interested in the process of writing, then you’ve probably heard this phrase at least a hundred times over: show, don’t tell.  Such a vague sentiment, but hell if it doesn’t pack a punch. In fact, it’s probably one of the only “rules” of storytelling that ought to be followed as closely as possible and as often as possible—at least in my opinion. But what, exactly, does it mean? In layman’s terms, show don’t tell is a simple recommendation: that authors should actively illustrate a concept rather than passively explain it. Why? Simple. One leaves the reader more room for interpretation and draws them deeper into the action at hand, and the other just…well, tells them what to see and what to feel in the same way a set of DIY instructions describe how to make a quirky set of kitchen lights out of mason jars. While yes, you got a straightforward idea of what to expect, did you actually have fun reading it?
These basic concepts are important to understand if you consider yourself a writer of any kind, as they function as the foundation for a) improving your prose, b) strengthening your characters, and c) forming a flowing narrative that will catch and keep readers’ attention.  And naturally, this also applies to the art of exposition.
Most people with even a cursory knowledge of telling a story know that characters should never be blank slates. If you have any desire to portray even a facsimile of real life, you have to put at least some effort into fleshing out the main characters. And when I say ‘flesh out’, I mean do more than just describing what they look like, a laundry list of personality traits, and what they’re wearing. I’m not going to go into this process deeply, as that’s a matter for another think-piece entirely, but it’s a starting point for the more convoluted parts to come. What I’m building up to is that your characters need a backstory, especially if they’re the one(s) through whom we, as readers, experience the story, i.e., the point of view (POV) character. This applies to both first- and third-person limited narratives, unless you’re going for a more anonymous / incidental narrator, like Mr. Lockwood in Wuthering Heights.
Now, these backstories don’t have to be a strict, detailed, chronological transcription of every year in that character’s life (though doing so certainly doesn’t hurt!) Rather, you should write it much like you would describe your own life if you had to plot it out on a timeline. At first, just stick with the most essential elements: where and when in history they were born, whether they have siblings or present family, and a simple list of significant events from various periods in their life. What specific things have most influenced who they are as a person, for good or ill? Next, it’s time to look at the family, since nothing impacts an individual more than how they were raised and how they were treated during their formative years. Were their parents present during their childhood? What was their parents’ relationship like before and after your character’s birth? Are they natives of the country in which the story is set, or did they immigrate—and if they immigrated, why did they do so? All of these and more are, to me at least, vital to developing a well-rounded and realistic character. I’ve even gone so far as to type out entire timelines for each character as well as their parents. Personalities, quirks, trauma—these are all just as hereditary as one’s genes, though this doesn’t mean that this inheritance has to be through blood. Nature vs. Nurture: they’re both equally important in the formation of an individual.
…So, what to do when you’ve finished all that? Do you dutifully transcribe it into the first chapter of your story? Absolutely not. Copy it into a separate document window and keep it there. A large chunk of this is for your benefit: most likely, less than half of it will make it into the written canon of the novel, and for good reason. All of that detailed history isn’t for the reader, it’s for you to use as a framework. Some of the most powerful elements to realistic characters are the unseen, the implied: all the hidden little things that lie just under the surface, but are never fully visible to the naked eye.
What a lot of inexperienced writers may not realize is that everything doesn’t always have to be stated unequivocally through dialogue or info-dumps. How often, in real life, do acquaintances explain upfront that this specific behavior they often exhibit is a result of how they were abandoned by their father and raised by an emotionally distant mother? Most people don’t psychoanalyze everything, nor do we ourselves do it to others—at least not often! Plus, it’s boring. Getting to know characters over the course of a story should be comparable to meeting a new friend. You find out the surface things at first, but pick up bits and pieces along the way that hint at what lies deeper inside. Little by little, you learn about their family, their hopes, dreams, fears…not always directly, and sometimes even in spite of their desire to keep up a front of normalcy.
With all this said, I think it’s become clear where I stand on backstory: it should be subtle, woven gradually into the narrative rather than stated by the character themselves or described by an omniscient narrator. Not only does this make the process of reading about it flow better and progress more naturally, it’s also far more interactive. Instead of being told why a character acts the way they do, the reader can catalogue said character’s actions, motivations, dialogue, and the way they interact with their surroundings, gradually putting the puzzle pieces together for themselves. In a sense, it’s almost a reward for those who read with a careful, inquisitive eye, and can be just as satisfying as solving a mystery before the detective does in a murder mystery.
I’ve used—and will continue to use—a lot of metaphors in this section because it’s the most thorough way I can to explain this process and why it’s so important. That being said, I approach backstory in the same way I might organize a scavenger hunt. It’s not about a treasure map, but rather an ongoing set of little discoveries without which the ultimate prize can never be found. But in keeping with this analogy, why would anyone want to take part in this if a) they’re just given the prize’s location outright, or b) don’t really care about the prize anyway?
When you’re straight-up told about character’s backstory within the first few chapters, there’s no groundwork for investment. Why should I care about this character’s history if I don’t even know them yet? Investment is a gradual process, and ought to be an interactive process too. One of the best strategies of implying backstory without stating it directly is illustrating how a character reacts to specific triggers. Yes, you can tell the reader in the character’s introductory paragraph that he was almost killed in a house fire as a child, which still haunts him to this day—but how else can you impart this information more effectively and poignantly? For some examples, he might…
Be too frightened to turn on the stove.
Avoid any type of matches or aerosol at all costs.
Get anxious when filling up his car at gas stations.
Constantly check and re-check the smoke detectors throughout his apartment
Panic when he smells her neighbor’s lit fireplace.
Why would we need to explain to readers what made him this way when we have all the evidence we need to figure it out for ourselves? Of course, there’s nothing wrong with, later on down the line, this character actively opening up about this trauma to a friend or therapist, as this is only natural and also supplies us with details we would have never known otherwise. This just shouldn’t be the first way we find it out.
Another efficient and interesting approach to gradual backstory incorporation is through dialogue. The way a character responds to nosy questions, criticisms, or simple observations tell a lot about the kind of people they are and how they’re coping (or not coping) with potentially painful parts of their personal histories / insecurities. For example, Character A can ask Character B, “Why don’t you want to go out tonight?” In truth, B is trying to back out of these plans because she can’t fit into a dress she was supposed to wear for the party, and is trying desperately not fall back into the pit dug by the various eating disorders she has suffered from since adolescence. She is afraid her friends will want to take group pictures, or remark on what’s she’s eating or not eating, or notice the extra pudge in her stomach. She remembers how her mother would chide her for eating second helpings when she was young, or all the times her ex called her fat. But B is not going to be capable of explaining all of this to her partner. So how does she respond?
1.     “I just…feel tired all of a sudden…but don’t let me keep you from going.  I don’t want to spoil your night.” Implication: saving face—she doesn’t want to reveal her real insecurities, so she uses a physical illness as a cover story.
2.      “What’s it to you? If this stupid party so important to you, then you can just go without me!”  Implication: defensiveness—she is uncomfortable being vulnerable, and lashes out instead.
Now obviously these are just two examples of a plethora of different responses a person might have to a question like this. But what matters is that each answer should give the reader some sort of information as to why said character reacts the way they do. And these reactions don’t have to have traumatic roots, either! Perhaps, because Character C’s older sister always encouraged them to stick up for and respect themselves, C is able to take that positive reinforcement and pay it forward, inspired to protect others who may not know how to protect themselves.  Positive change ripples and spreads just as much as negativity, and should never be discounted just because a character has gone through their fair share of tragedy, too.
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In short, there is nothing simple or easy about creative writing—there is so much nuance involved in every aspect, though that shouldn’t discourage newcomers from experimenting and taking everything step by step. There are no absolutes in writing, and every rule can be challenged, so take what I say with a grain of salt. But still, I cannot emphasize enough the importance of backstory when developing strong characters, nor how much more natural a narrative will feel when these things are integrated with subtlety and grace. Your characters should never be objects, concepts, or a means to an end: if you want to make them seem real to your readers, then they must first seem real to you.
...And real people all have their own stories: to find them, all you have to do is watch and listen.    
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nuray-ffxiv · 5 years
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LFRP- Crystal - Ayşe Nuray
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BASICS.
full name: Ayşe Nuray
pronunciation: [ ai-sha nur-ay ]
nicknames: Ays [ ice ]
race: Miqote - Mixed: Keeper & Seeker
gender: Female
sexuality: Pansexual, panromantic.
height: 4′9
age: Mid-twenties
birthday: 13th Sun of the 2nd Umbral Moon
zodiac: Nymeia [ Aries ]
languages: Common, Eorzean sign language, and Ayla’sebnem, the name and language of her clan (Derived from Turkish & Arabic).
[ Ayse can understand all language spoken or written due to possessing a variation of the Echo, but she cannot inherently speak or write them all. ]
PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS.
hair colour: Light grey.
eye colour: Silver, with slitted pupils.
skin tone: Warm Ivory
body type: Slender hourglass
accent: The occasional rolled/purred ‘r’, though only when she’s distracted.
dominant hand: Left
posture: Good posture, often relaxed but rarely slouched, unless at her desk. She can often be found hunched over her desk for worrying amounts of time.
scars: Little ones here and there from her travels. Two symmetrically on each side of her face. Once, whip scars could be found on the back of her legs and shoulders, but they’ve long been removed.
tattoos/markings: White markings on her face, hands, ribs, chest, and thighs. Some are curving lines, and others are circular. A black underline on her lower lashline.
most noticeable features:  The white markings on her face, alongside the symmetrical scars.
CHILDHOOD.
place of birth:  Abalathia's spine
hometown: Abalathia's spine, with the Ayla’Sebnem clan. [ Ayla’sebnem means Moonlight Dew. ]
birth weight/height: Smaller than average
manner of birth: Delivered by clan healers, born right after her twin sister. Both born healthy, if small.
first words: “Ma!”
siblings: Azmi Nuray, twin sister, missing. Cemre’a Nuray, older brother, alive.
parents: Cemre Nuray & an unknown seeker male. an unplanned pregnancy from a tryst, but one her mother was more than happy with as she returned to her clan grounds, alongside her mate and Cemre’a’s father. Her mother is currently missing.
parental involvement: high involvement from her mother’s side, as a single mother within a very loving clan, at least until the scourge that found nearly all of them enslaved. It has only been recently that Ayse discovered her father’s tribe, since it’s burgeoning connections to her clan.
ADULT LIFE.
occupation: Clan archivist and healer.
current residence: The Ayla’Sebnem clan grounds.
close friends: Simi and Basim’a Jinkjahl.
relationship status: Single, polyamorous.
financial status: Moderately wealthy.
vices: The occasional recreational drug. Does not drink.
SEX & ROMANCE.
sexual orientation:  Pansexual.
romantic orientation:  Panromantic.
preferred emotional role: submissive | dominant | switch |  unsure
preferred sexual role:  submissive | dominant | switch |  sex repulsed [ Ayse is very open to love - and loving - in all of its many forms, and will often defer to whatever position her partner is most comfortable with. ]
turn on’s: Wittiness, compassion, like-minded interests, boldness, physical intimacy, and certain voices.
turn off’s: Ignorance, cruelty, superiority, laziness, unprovoked rudeness, unsanitary/unclean appearances.
love language: Ayse is complimentary to most everyone she meets, but when true feelings begin to develop, this becomes more physical. The desire to be close, touching even if it’s simply innocent grazes or hand-holding, becomes far more prevalent.
relationship tendencies: While an unrepentant flirt, Ayse enters into relationships slowly. The archivist likes to take her time, and fully court potential romantic interests before entering into anything serious. Plentiful dates and time spent getting to know one another, and for the Miqo’te to truly gauge the person’s intent. She is remarkably cautious, for one so coquettish.
MISCELLANEOUS.
hobbies to pass the time: Research, research, research. Ayse loves her job, and there is always something to do - Be it a relic to study or a ruin to excavate or clan history to peruse, Ayse affords herself little down time because she enjoys what she does so deeply. Often, it can take the combined force of others to make her take a break and really relax, in which case she will find people to socialize with.
mental illnesses: Has some remnants of post-traumatic stress disorder due to her past, and very rarely will be triggered into a panic attack. She is very good at avoiding her triggers, but they can occasionally blindside her.
physical illnesses: None to speak of, though she has a sensitivity to bright light, and hates being surprised by touch.
left or right brained: Left.
fears:  Ayse deeply fears she will never find her mother and sister again, no matter that she hasn’t given up. Following that, she fears losing the family she has since regained since escaping slavery herself, as well as being enslaved once more.
self-confidence level: Overall quite healthy, with the exception being during and after a panic attack, where it dips quite severely.
vulnerabilities: Moodiness, tendency to run herself ragged, occasional melancholy, and the penchant to use flirtation as a shield.
HOOKS
She’s the shimmer on the water, in a river of moonlight.
Ayse is very attuned with the elements of water and ice, and uses both in healing practices for those inside of her clan and out. She would take no issue with aiding a passerby if they seemed wounded, though is also not above using the talent for trade when it comes to information. 
Injured PCs looking for help without judgement, or else those looking to barter information for occasional medical services would find a good companion in her. 
Your eyes are hollow, your heart is shallow, and your words mean nothing to me.
There are very, very few things on Hydaelyn that Ayse hates more than slavers, and the practice of human(oid) trafficking. There are no lengths the woman will not go to stifle the abhorrent practice, and as an ex-slave she is honour-bound to try and free any and all slaves she comes in contact with. 
Any runaway or current slave PCs looking for help to free themselves would find a wonderful ally in her, and all slaver PCs a chilling enemy. There is no shade of grey in this to her. 
She had a mischevious smile, a curious heart, and an affinity for running wild.
An archivist for the Ayla’sebnem, Ayse has an interest in nearly all historic sights and artifacts. She records any that may be related to her clan, or even general Keeper heritage, but she is fascinated by ruins and tales of all lands and cultures. This is in part due to having the Echo, which manifests in visions of the past when she comes into contact with highly spiritual artifacts, or places. 
It is not uncommon to stumble upon the Miqo’te wandering ruins, or meditating within them. Adventurous types could very well happen upon her by chance, or she them.  
Her revenge was silent, as growth cannot be heard.
A pacifist by choice, the historian will do whatever it takes to avoid harming another soul ( exception: slavers ) and will use her talents with magic to stop an attack, render her opponent unconscious, or try to bind them so she can escape. This was not always the case, however. 
In her youth, the Keeper-Seeker mix was quite fond of duelling with a crystalline rapier. On occasion, Ayse can be found staring a bit wistfully at such weapons, and would not decline the chance for some friendly duelling partners. 
LOOKING FOR
On a character level, I am looking for all sorts of different interactions for Ayse, be they friendly or antagonistic. People that may have met her during her time as a slave, or else people who are just meeting her now. Friendships and rivalries are both welcome, though I am very hesitant on romantic relations, and will require much IC and OOC communication before committing to a romantic ship. I’m open to scenes with violence, matures themes, gore, etc...
On an OOC level, I am looking for people who know the difference between IC and OOC. I do not tolerate blending, metagaming, or godmodding. Open communication is very important for me, especially if our characters are going to obtain a relationship of any kind of depth. 
If you’re interested, you can contact me here, or in-game on Ayse Nuray or Rhysa Verkoh (main). I can give out my discord on request as well! ♥
@crystalxivrp 
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grindskull · 5 years
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Shit that fucks me up #1 - Toxic Masculinity and being a “man”
Gotta have some way to organize my random thoughts here. I’m going with the obvious thing - Shit that fucks me up (STFMU). This is about me and my experiences. It is not my intention to discredit or question other human experiences. Sharing in the hopes of connecting with others who may have feel similar in their own skin. There are things here that others may define as triggers so read at your own risk (rape, abuse, and this fucking world). ---
Here is me being vulnerable.  I am putting myself out there by discussing masculinity and how I often do not identify with the larger concept of “being a man” in any positive way. You can call it toxic masculinity if you prefer. It’s acceptable shorthand for something that is just as nuanced and difficult to wade through as anything gender related.  I read this article on The Atlantic yesterday and there were some things that really resonated with me and my experience as a man/male (he/his/him). You can read it here (sorry there is a pay wall if you read more than 4 articles a month) but I will also be quoting some of the article below.  If you have time to read the article I’ll wait. It’s a bit long (many articles on The Atlantic are) and kind of academic at times. It’s okay if you don’t agree with everything in the article. Just read it.  Done? Okay let me set the stage a bit for how this shit fucks me up. ---
I’m male. I have always identified as a male/boy/man in my life. Unfortunately my experience with other males/boys/men has been mostly negative. It started at an early age when I had a hard time connecting with other boys my age. I was not interested in typical “male” interests like sports, violence, competition, and achievement. I had few (usually 1 or 2) friends at any one time and they typically had some kind of unhealthy power dynamic over me where I was subservient to my “friend” in some way.  I have some thoughts on reasons why this happened. The short version is I lived in poverty (often extreme) and I was searching for help and support in order to survive. At home I had abuse (mental, physical, verbal), drugs, addiction, and neglect. It was not a safe place to be so I did whatever I could to not be there. It was not unusual for me to eat maybe one meal during the day (typically what I could get from others at school or their home). Winter was the worst as we often did not have heat. Some of my “friends” used this as a way to hold power over me and make demands of my personality, time, and attention. Imagine finding yourself in this situation - you have to actively work to not be yourself in order to appease others for your very survival. Of course as a youth I didn’t identify it this way - my “friends” were just bossy or demanding. All of my male role models were basically assholes who did not give a fuck about anyone except themselves. This was a huge part of the 80′s zeitgeist in popular culture at the time as well. In some ways nothing has really changed. “... when asked to describe the attributes of “the ideal guy,” those same boys appeared to be harking back to 1955. Dominance. Aggression. Rugged good looks (with an emphasis on height). Sexual prowess. Stoicism. Athleticism. Wealth (at least some day).“ Under this common definition of “masculinity” I do not see myself. I am loyal, honest, caring, and sweet (to those I love). I love my body though I am non-athletic and have been most of my life. I am an attentive and talented lover but I have had very few sexual partners in my life and never saw them as moments of “conquest”. I was dirt poor most of my life but now live comfortably in my own home with my long term partner. So while not “wealthy” it is far beyond anything I could have imagined I would have in my life as a boy. Stoicism I have down. That one was easy. For me it’s just a nice way of saying “I have completely disconnected from my emotions and not having feelings or emotions is the best way to be a man”. I believed that for a very long time - it’s only in the past 2-3 years I have begun the work of breaking that down and reconnecting with my own emotions. It’s all tied up in trauma, depression, and anxiety so it takes a bit of fucking work but it’s very much worth it. If you are a man/male who thinks it is normal to not have emotions (or that emotions make you feminine/weak) please listen to me - THAT IS BULLSHIT. YOU OWE IT TO YOURSELF TO HAVE EMOTIONS.
“... young men described just one narrow route to successful masculinity. One-third said they felt compelled to suppress their feelings, to “suck it up” or “be a man” when they were sad or scared, and more than 40 percent said that when they were angry, society expected them to be combative.“
Emotions are not weakness. You are not weak for having them, feeling them, or connecting with them. There is great strength in connecting with yourself and understanding your emotions. Don’t let anyone tell you different. They are delusional at best and actively trying to harm you at worst.
“While following the conventional script may still bring social and professional rewards to boys and men, research shows that those who rigidly adhere to certain masculine norms are not only more likely to harass and bully others but to themselves be victims of verbal or physical violence. They’re more prone to binge-drinking, risky sexual behavior, and getting in car accidents. They are also less happy than other guys, with higher depression rates and fewer friends in whom they can confide.”
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How did we get here!? Have men always been this way? What about the good ole masculinity of ye olden times? It was a simple time where men were men right? A man’s man? “According to Andrew Smiler, a psychologist who has studied the history of Western masculinity, the ideal late-19th-century man was compassionate, a caretaker, but such qualities lost favor as paid labor moved from homes to factories during industrialization. In fact, the Boy Scouts, whose creed urges its members to be loyal, friendly, courteous, and kind, was founded in 1910 in part to counter that dehumanizing trend. Smiler attributes further distortions in masculinity to a century-long backlash against women’s rights. During World War I, women proved that they could keep the economy humming on their own, and soon afterward they secured the vote. Instead of embracing gender equality, he says, the country’s leaders “doubled down” on the inalienable male right to power, emphasizing men’s supposedly more logical and less emotional nature as a prerequisite for leadership.”
Take a minute to read that and really take it in. Like many things in the US (and the world) the effects of industrialization and war shaped our current version of accepted masculinity. More specifically the leaders of this country (and leaders in other countries) used their positions of power to strengthen men and this new masculinity in our institutions. Then we were taught that this was the “right way” to “be a man”. FUCK. THIS. SHIT.
“Today many parents are unsure of how to raise a boy, what sort of masculinity to encourage in their sons. But as I learned from talking with boys themselves, the culture of adolescence, which fuses hyper-rationality with domination, sexual conquest, and a glorification of male violence, fills the void.“
Here we have the core of what I experience as a man when it comes to the current socially accepted version of masculinity and why it fucks me up. I don’t identify with any of this shit! It does not feed me. It does not make me feel fulfilled and happy. It doesn’t make the world better for anyone it simply dehumanizes us all. 
“In a classic study, adults shown a video of an infant startled by a jack-in-the-box were more likely to presume the baby was “angry” if they were first told the child was male. Mothers of young children have repeatedly been found to talk more to their girls and to employ a broader, richer emotional vocabulary with them; with their sons, again, they tend to linger on anger. As for fathers, they speak with less emotional nuance than mothers regardless of their child’s sex. Despite that, according to Judy Y. Chu, a human-biology lecturer at Stanford who conducted a study of boys from pre-K through first grade, little boys have a keen understanding of emotions and a desire for close relationships. But by age 5 or 6, they’ve learned to knock that stuff off, at least in public: to disconnect from feelings of weakness, reject friendships with girls (or take them underground, outside of school), and become more hierarchical in their behavior.“
I’m not going to get into the topic of my own father (that’s another post in this series for sure) too deeply but I will say I completely identify with these ideas. Emotional distance, only expressing anger, telling me having emotions was weak. This was reinforced societal norms throughout my youth through today. Don’t talk about your problems or feelings. Ball them up inside. Wall yourself off from the world. Connections = weakness that others will exploit. You must control every situation and hold power over others. FUCK. THIS. SHIT.
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So when did I wake up? When did I start to see through this shit in some way? When my younger sister was born. It was really obvious to me that she was treated in a different way and expectations of her as a girl/woman were not the same as the expectations others had for me. Mostly I just saw the negatives in this. It took me time (and lots of communication and experiences with my partner and others) to recognize the root of this was more fucked up socialization. 
“Girlfriends, mothers, and in some cases sisters were the most common confidants of the boys I met. While it’s wonderful to know they have someone to talk to—and I’m sure mothers, in particular, savor the role—teaching boys that women are responsible for emotional labor, for processing men’s emotional lives in ways that would be emasculating for them to do themselves, comes at a price for both sexes. Among other things, that dependence can leave men unable to identify or express their own emotions, and ill-equipped to form caring, lasting adult relationships.”
Read this carefully. Nobody is responsible for your emotional well being but you. If you are a male/man this is especially true - females/women are not responsible for managing your emotions and your reliance on them to take care of this is a form of abuse. They are not responsible for your emotions. YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN EMOTIONS.
It can be really hard to see this. It was a blind spot for me for way too long. Don’t let it be one for you. Connecting with and taking responsibility for your emotions is one of the biggest things you can do to improve yourself as a human being. If you are sad you can cry. If you are happy you can laugh. You have a wide range of emotions and they don’t all lead to frustration or anger.
“As someone who, by virtue of my sex, has always had permission to weep, I didn’t initially understand this. Only after multiple interviews did I realize that when boys confided in me about crying—or, even more so, when they teared up right in front of me—they were taking a risk, trusting me with something private and precious: evidence of vulnerability, or a desire for it.“
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Okay so putting aside all of the reinforcement we get from our parents and institutions and our lack of emotional vulnerability why do we all buy into this dumb shit? Who convinced us all this is what masculinity is? And why do we listen?
“What the longtime sportswriter Robert Lipsyte calls “jock culture” (or what the boys I talked with more often referred to as “bro culture”) is the dark underbelly of male-dominated enclaves, whether or not they formally involve athletics: all-boys’ schools, fraternity houses, Wall Street, Silicon Valley, Hollywood, the military. Even as such groups promote bonding, even as they preach honor, pride, and integrity, they tend to condition young men to treat anyone who is not “on the team” as the enemy (the only women who ordinarily make the cut are blood relatives— bros before hos!), justifying any hostility toward them. Loyalty is paramount, and masculinity is habitually established through misogynist language and homophobia.”
Sounds familiar right guys? Don’t kid yourself. This is what being a man looks like in almost all situations in which we feel “safe” to express our self right? You are either with us or against us. Anything different or anyone questioning this behavior must be “othered” as they are clearly not “on the team”. FUCK. THIS. SHIT.
This was my entire experience as a youth. As someone who did not fit into this group (nor wanted to) I was immediately “othered” and deemed a “pussy” or “fag” or “homo” or “weirdo”. My friend group reflected this - mostly others who also were “not on the team” like women, gays and lesbians, and men who also did not identify with this version of masculinity. Which just made it easier to group us all together and identify us as the enemy. 
“Just because some young men now draw the line at referring to someone who is openly gay as a fag doesn’t mean, by the way, that gay men (or men with traits that read as gay) are suddenly safe. If anything, the gay guys I met were more conscious of the rules of manhood than their straight peers were. They had to be—and because of that, they were like spies in the house of hypermasculinity.” Without the ability to connect with and express my emotions I often reacted in anger. I started fights. I got violent (with words and writing mostly). I returned this “othering” and treated them all as the enemy. I had other reasons for this (being abused by men as a boy) but at the crux of the issue I had no trust for men. This helped me connect with women and my gay friends as they also experienced this distrust in similar (and different) ways. 
Years later I found myself in a job where I managed a group of men (100 or more at any time) working as a team (video game industry) and totally unable to connect with any of them as a human let alone a man. It was at this time that I realized this was a problem beyond my own experiences and when I started to understand my own participation in this system. 
I tried to question things as they came up. I tried to hear my teammates and help them navigate this murky sea of masculinity to find their own place in it. Most people didn’t want to participate. They learned to keep their mouth shut if I was within earshot of their typical “bro talk”. They learned to act differently around me so as not to incur my wrath (using my anger and position of power to punish them for being sexist, racist, or intolerant). I felt powerful and I tricked myself into thinking I was making a difference. I was wrong. 
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“Recently, Pascoe turned her attention to no homo, a phrase that gained traction in the 1990s. She sifted through more than 1,000 tweets, primarily by young men, that included the phrase. Most were expressing a positive emotion, sometimes as innocuous as “I love chocolate ice cream, #nohomo” or “I loved the movie The Day After Tomorrow, #nohomo.” “A lot of times they were saying things like ‘I miss you’ to a friend or ‘We should hang out soon,’ ” she said. “Just normal expressions of joy or connection.” No homo is a form of inoculation against insults from other guys, Pascoe concluded, a “shield that allows boys to be fully human.”
It wasn’t long before my “making a difference” spread into our hiring, training, and management of the team. I brought in women who wanted to work in the game industry. I tried to shut down any of the bro culture bullshit that came up and used it as an opportunity to teach other men why it was fucked up. It worked for some (maybe 5-6 people out of hundreds) but the majority either quit or tried to get me fired. Most did not change their behavior in any way. 
The women said they knew what they were getting into. I don’t believe they knew what it was like to actually be in the middle of the situation. I assume women in the military probably have a lot of experience like this. In short - it’s fucking toxic and disgusting. Like other males/men they too have to fall in line and “become one of the boys” or risk being antagonized and ostracized for being “different”. It’s Lord of the Flies. It’s fucking mob mentality. It’s masculinity at it’s absolute worst. And this was in a “progressive” creative city working for a small company with a woman CEO. Men simply don’t give a fuck and it’s almost always easier to go with the flow. FUCK. THIS. SHIT.
My first experience with a trans individual in a work setting occurred was while I was managing this team. One of our long term employees made the transition and I had to watch how they were treated by the “bros’. Jokes were made, memes were shared, snickering and fucked up behavior was rampant. I had to talk to, discipline, and fire many individuals. These were men I thought were “on the team” and working to be good examples of masculinity. I should have known that was just part of the act - their way of surviving and showing subservience to me as a man in a position of power over them. My trust was further eroded in masculinity. 
Putting yourself over others is not power. It is dehumanization and it stems from hate. We can be different without being better or worse than someone else regardless of who they are. Not everything has to be a competition. It took me way too long to undo the damage done to me by these ideal of toxic masculinity. You can do it too - you just have to start today. 
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Beyond the negative effects this version of masculinity has on us as males/men it also fucks up our interaction with women and sexual partners and it’s certainly done so to me. I’m actively working on unfucking my fucking and aware that many of my heterosexual ideals of sex stem from the same shit I have been actively fighting against most of my life. Connecting emotionally with your sexual partner takes things to a completely different level.
“It’s not like I imagined boys would gush about making sweet, sweet love to the ladies, but why was their language so weaponized ? The answer, I came to believe, was that locker-room talk isn’t about sex at all, which is why guys were ashamed to discuss it openly with me. The (often clearly exaggerated) stories boys tell are really about power: using aggression toward women to connect and to validate one another as heterosexual, or to claim top spots in the adolescent sexual hierarchy. Dismissing that as “banter” denies the ways that language can desensitize—abrade boys’ ability to see girls as people deserving of respect and dignity in sexual encounters.”  
This is the first thing that comes to my mind when I hear the term “rape culture”. As men we are taught that to be masculine is to claim “wins” in sexual conquest. Sex is property and we can collect it. Even if it’s with our long term partners or spouses. Ever tried talking to men about this? Ever questioned others on how it’s fucked up? You probably heard about how it’s all in jest. Just a joke! I’m just joking!  “When called out, boys typically claim that they thought they were just being “funny.” And in a way that makes sense—when left unexamined, such “humor” may seem like an extension of the gross-out comedy of childhood. Little boys are famous for their fart jokes, booger jokes, poop jokes. It’s how they test boundaries, understand the human body, gain a little cred among their peers. But, as can happen with sports, their glee in that can both enable and camouflage sexism. The boy who, at age 10, asks his friends the difference between a dead baby and a bowling ball may or may not find it equally uproarious, at 16, to share what a woman and a bowling ball have in common (you can Google it). He may or may not post ever-escalating “jokes” about women, or African Americans, or homosexuals, or disabled people on a group Snapchat. He may or may not send “funny” texts to friends about “girls who need to be raped,” or think it’s hysterical to surprise a buddy with a meme in which a woman is being gagged by a penis, her mascara mixed with her tears. He may or may not, at 18, scrawl the names of his hookups on a wall in his all-male dorm, as part of a year-long competition to see who can “pull” the most. Perfectly nice, bright, polite boys I interviewed had done one or another of these things.”
Let me be clear in case you are confused. This shit isn’t funny. Laughing at other people’s misfortune is a long standing human tradition yes - and it still dehumanizes everyone involved. That doesn’t make me laugh but maybe you are still amused? Why?
“At the most disturbing end of the continuum, “funny” and “hilarious” become a defense against charges of sexual harassment or assault. To cite just one example, a boy from Steubenville, Ohio, was captured on video joking about the repeated violation of an unconscious girl at a party by a couple of high-school football players. “She is so raped,” he said, laughing. “They raped her quicker than Mike Tyson.” When someone off camera suggested that rape wasn’t funny, he retorted, “It isn’t funny—it’s hilarious!”
The classic toxic masculinity force field present in my life has been the “just joking” phrase with the ultimate no consequence phrase “it’s hilarious!”. Say something you don’t want to manage the consequences for? Just a joke! People still question you or your morals after saying some heinous shit? No.. it’s cool... it’s hilarious! You just gotta laugh! FUCK. THIS. SHIT.
“Hilarious” is another way, under the pretext of horseplay or group bonding, that boys learn to disregard others’ feelings as well as their own. “Hilarious” is a haven, offering distance when something is inappropriate, confusing, depressing, unnerving, or horrifying; when something defies boys’ ethics. It allows them to subvert a more compassionate response that could be read as unmasculine—and makes sexism and misogyny feel transgressive rather than supportive of an age-old status quo. Boys may know when something is wrong; they may even know that true manhood—or maybe just common decency—compels them to speak up. Yet, too often, they fear that if they do, they’ll be marginalized or, worse, themselves become the target of derision from other boys. Masculinity, then, becomes not only about what boys do say, but about what they don’t—or won’t, or can’t—say, even when they wish they could. The psychologists Dan Kindlon and Michael Thompson, the authors of Raising Cain: Protecting the Emotional Life of Boys, have pointed out that silence in the face of cruelty or sexism is how too many boys become men. 
I feel like I may have already gone too far into this dark hole of shit that fucks me up around toxic masculinity. I hope I didn’t lose you. I hope you have questions and thoughts about how this impacts your life. Perhaps ways that you make a change today to fight against this bullshit. You may be asking yourself “what can we do!?” At the end of the day its up to males/men to change this culture. It’s not about self-hate or self-abuse. We gotta name this and own it. We need more men to step up and say ‘It doesn’t have to be like this”. Our collective mental health requires us to be more flexible and connected to ourselves and emotions. We need to find ways to deal with our anger, frustration, and desires in ways that don’t hurt ourselves and others. We need to teach ourselves (especially youth) that it isn’t enough to only talk about things we shouldn’t (and hopefully won’t) do. 
If this shit fucks you too you can do something about it. Start with yourself. Question these things when they come up. And not only when you feel “safe” to do so. Do it consistently in ways that are non-confrontational (they will probably lead to confrontations with most men anyway - sorry). Be okay with not always “winning’ in these situations. You’ll be surprised who you might connect with in the process. Hopefully one of those people will be yourself. 
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Breaking through Time
The world has gone to hell and yet I’m still here. That’s got to say something about perseverance right?  No, I didn’t think so; it just shows my stubbornness goes to epic lengths and proportions to outdo itself.  How often does one get to say that they survived the end of the world because of sheer stubbornness?  Now, not very many people at all. 
You remember that old song that used to play all the time? Where the lyrics stated, “It’s the end of the world as we know it, and I feel fine” it’s actually true for the most part, for I do feel fine.  Not in the good way, no that would just be lying and that’s not the point I’m trying to make.  When you are alone long enough, you get to the point where you just feel fine.  It’s almost a sort of empty feeling, yet extremely selfish (at least that’s what I’ve been telling myself) because you are pushing away your pain instead of coming to terms with your losses.  Ignoring the fact that everything you once held near and dear were ripped viciously from you.
                There were so many dead, so many gone.  You may think those are the same terms but no, there is a massive difference in this universe.  We call the ones that are simply gone faders.  Got at least have a badass name for the thing that’s trying to kill you.  They just faded from existence right before your very eyes.  I don’t know which would classify as worse, but both were traumatizing for the one person closest to the fader.  I know how it feels for my immediate family is all dead, they were killed by a fader while he was going through the insanity of his fade. 
                Faders go through phases before they become completely gone.  They consist of amnesia, loss of basic motor skills, insanity and violence, until finally the actual fade itself.  There really is no stopping them when they get violent, the only possible thing you can do is run, and hope that they catch someone else besides you. I know sacrificing someone else to save yourself so selfish blah blah blah, but you eventually just go to certain ends to keep yourself alive when there are no other options.
                My name is Charlie Parks, and I am totally completely alone.  Normalcy?  Gone, like my family.  They didn’t last long at all, for they trusted way too much.  They wanted to help the raving lunatic that was about to kill them and they got too close.  I was too far away to help them, their deaths are my fault and I will forever suffer under that knowledge that I let them down.  Everyone else fading I couldn’t claim as my fault because I don’t even know why or even how it happens.  I just know the signs and when to get moving. I liked being alone, I tried the whole partner thing in surviving the end of the world but that has failed rather spectacularly in both attempts.
                It’s also a strange feeling being alone.  You realize just how lonely one can get when there is no one left.  But the pain of losing someone is much worse than the pain of loneliness, so it is quite obvious that I chose the lonely rout instead of even more emotional trauma than the amount I’ve been given.  Little did I know, I didn’t really have a choice in the matter at all.
                                                                                                                                                                                                                      *************************************
  They had found out the reason behind the fadings. It was the weirdest thing, people who should have seemed insignificant in the long run never put in their mark to the world.  Some actors never became famous, some youtubers never made videos, and some never got together or even met.  There were so many influential people in the history of the internet, it actually seems believable that them not making their mark upon the permanence that is the internet could cause a disrupt in time or whatever this is called.  What even happened to cause absolutely all of them to stray off of their path?  I even recognized many of these people.
                They have been calling in for people to help them clean up the mess, why not give it a go it’s not like I have anything left to lose in this world.  Least that’s to paraphrase their message of wanting people with no connections left to volunteer.  Wow, pathetic honestly it’s like if I mope long enough I can classify as one of those old emo kids on myspace.  Since the abundance of people in past years have dwindled to minimal numbers, the streets that would have been packed three years ago was so empty that the term ghost town almost wasn’t enough to describe it.
                All the buildings were dark, grungy, and dreary.  Doors were jammed shut after others barricading themselves from faded.  Other humans were few and far between, and no one wanted to chance any bad interactions with a possible fader so everyone tended to keep to themselves.  It’s surprising how close the building was from my place of hiding, really it was only about five blocks.  It was a small building in retrospect with the older office buildings.  It almost looked like they decided to morph the old DMV into a building that they could use for their purposes. In fact it actually was the DMV, the letters ripped off the side of the building leaving only a weathered ghost of their presence in the brick. 
                Apparently their waiting time is exactly like in a DMV.  Long, boring, and absolutely no reason for it to be lasting this long.  Seriously there were no other people here!  Maybe five others at the absolute most were in here!  Ah well, it certainly gave me enough time to observe my surroundings.   The few people in here that weren’t mulling about like I was were filling in paperwork.  I was too far away to see just how much they were being made to fill out, but I really didn’t want to know.  It might just put me off from going through with this in the first place. 
                Twenty and a half million years later, they called me up to the counter.  “Please fill out this paperwork.”  Jesus Christ is this paperwork or a freaking novel?  I struggled to carry it all to a nearby seat really just wondering how they had enough electricity to print this many pages.  Many of these questions were easy.  Hair color, red (dyed), eye color, green, height, 5’6.  Yes I would sure hope I was Caucasian or else my vampire skin would be some genetic anomaly that you would most likely want to study.  Or poke and prod with needles, god I hate needles.
                Then the questions became subtly more personal.  Have you ever moved as a child, how many people are in your family, how often do you share information with strangers… are they for real?  Favorite television shows why on earth do they want to know that? Is this a dating profile or was this paperwork to fix my reality?  These questions were getting absolutely ridiculous the further on I went, even asking some that I wouldn’t feel comfortable with if my mom asked me.  Once absolutely every bit of paper was filled out, I felt like keeling over and taking a well-deserved nap. 
                Once every little tiny bit of paper had every bit of my life on it, and then some that I didn’t even know how to answer, I was made to hand over the filled in novel and once again sit back down in the really uncomfortable chair for a few more million years to come.  I’m pretty sure I had become a fossil before they called my name to finally see where the heck this was going.
The receptionist had me follow a tired looking man into a secluded room to go over the paperwork in case I missed anything… great. He looked to be about in his late forties, but with huge age lines and a lot of gray hair taking over his head.  Obviously the times have not been kind to him the past few years.  Once he had me sat down in a rather surprisingly comfy chair the onslaught of questioning began.
                “You stated on here that you have no family or friends left, is this true?” well that’s a rather rude way to start.
                “Not exactly something I would lie about, especially seeing as I witnessed most of their murders and fadings.”  I snap.  I don’t think snapping at them was exactly smart but when was I ever known for being a good social person?
                “Alright just making absolutly sure, already you are a prime candidate to help.”  I don’t think he was trying to be insulting by the way he was raising his hands as if I were a wild animal, but still I didn’t like him much.
                “So prime candidate, what exactly am I going to be doing?”  This honestly had to be the most legitimate question, for I had no idea on what my job would be.
                “We are going to be assigning you two people who never made youtube videos together.  They never met and one therefore never made videos himself.  Millions of lives perished one by one after getting triggered by the event of the first getting hit by a bus.  Just glancing over your sheet we already got the match for you.  Being paired with them, will also heal you from your own emotional traumas and give you a new life to live.”
                “Right like I totally need healing.” I have no idea if he caught on to the sarcasm, “Now come on who is it that has to suffer my presence?”
                Tired man gave me a reproachful look before reading from his list, “Daniel James Howell and Phillip Michael Lester are your assignments.  Already you have a hard job because you have two people to watch over, though you will get practice with one before needing to handle both of them.”
                I am so confused, how am I going to be watching them and helping them?  Dan and Phil got together back in 2009 any fan would know that for a fact and it being 2017 now doesn’t add the puzzle pieces together.  “How exactly am I going to be with Dan and Phil?  If you haven’t noticed it has been many, many years since the time when they were fist supposed to be introduced to each other. ”  I then recalled something he said before, “Wait Phil got hit by a bus?!”
                “Good on you for noticing that.”  Is he being sarcastic?  He is being a sarcastic little twat!  Oh I think I might actually have the chance of getting along better with him now.  “We have figured out a way to send you back to a younger version of your body but being able to keep your mind as it is right now.”
                My eyebrows rose in surprise, whatever answer I was expecting him to give me, that certainly wasn’t it.  “Ok that sounds like bogus science fiction crap.  How do you honestly expect me to believe that this is going to work?”  This honestly was pissing me off, did they really think I was going to fall for this?  I have been through way too much to blindly follow whatever anyone that even remotely looks like authority says to me. 
                He seems surprised at my outburst, I had been falsely calm before and now he was seeing the consequences.  I need answers and I need them now.
                “Alright, it will be much too difficult to explain to you right in this very moment but if you just follow me.”  He left his sentence hanging, luring me in to just follow him and see the wonders behind the magic screen. 
                The machine he led me to certainly was a strange looking one.  Well strange because it looks like they took an MRI machine and added onto it.  Really just a bunch of bits and bobs that shouldn’t be there in the first place are stuck onto it.  “This is your wondrous machine meant to send me into the past?  Oy vey!”
                He scowled at the slight against his glorified MRI machine.  “We can prove that it actually works you know.”  He reached inside of the only opening to the thing and pulled out a bit of paper… with my handwriting on it.  He clears his throat and states in a smug tone, “’My first pet was a guinea pig named Fosie Bear, I love British shows and my two favorite youtubers are Dan and Phil, and no one knows about my absolute love for balsamic vinegar-‘ vinegar are you actually kidding me?”  I can only stare, stunned that he even has that information.  I haven’t told anybody that last scrap of information since my best friend passed.  
                He looks so pleased with himself, the little toe-rag.  “How the hell did you get this?  Any of this!”  My voice was shaking, trembling with rage.  I didn’t like when people knew too much about me, if they know everything about you then you have no defense to stand behind in case they were a bad egg. 
                “Because you will write it in about five minutes, and I will send it back.”
“Oh when you put it that way! Sure! Why not?!?  I’ll play right into this insanity I mean the world has gone to crap but I’m here playing pretend with a bunch of Bill Nye wannabee’s!!”  Yep called it, full freak out mode has commenced.  Although my freak out was short lived as he lifted a syringe and said cooly, “We will sedate you if you force us too.  Are you going to calm down Ms. Parks?”  I glare at him but forcefully nod.  There is no way in hell I am being sedated and being left to their devises.
“Good, now this is the plan.” He states like he didn’t just threaten to sedate me, “The reason we make sure you have no loved ones left, to put it frank, is to make sure there will be no one who will miss you. We only have the tech to send you there, but not bring you back.”
I stare open mouthed, this is so much more than they were saying it would be in the call to action. “Gee thanks glad to know my lack of important people to my life is so necessary for you.”  Ever find yourself in an uncomfortable situation?  Use sarcasm!  Not only will it make you look like someone who never takes things seriously, but it will also make the person you are talking to want to leave!  You get two for the price of one, kiddos.
“Anyway, we are going to be sending you back to about 2004 when you should have been six years old. Before Phil starts his channel, we need you to infiltrate and befriend him.  Get close enough to become influential, but not taking the “best friend” spot, that needs to be reserved for Dan.  You are going to have to get Phil to notice Dan’s excessive stalker tweets and have them both start filming like they were supposed to.”
“Okay let me get this straight, you are essentially ripping me from my timeline, planting me in theirs, and through this process I will never be able to come home and see my family again even though they will be alive.”
“Yes that would be correct!” Why does he sound so happy upon hearing my pain?  Are they all just sadists?  This sacrifice would bring everyone I love back, but they would be living without me.  Which is better me living in absolute misery and them still being dead, or them being able to live the rest of their days happily and without me?  I’m not cruel, if it means that I get to save them, then this is a sacrifice I am willing to make for my family.
I let out a shuddering breath, and nodded resigning myself to my fate. “Good now since we plan for you to be going back to 2009 we won’t need you to be younger, it is actually imperative that you are still twenty in order to be able to click with Phil.  Also write out that note for me.” 
“If this was the case why did you even mention that it could send me back to my younger body? It doesn’t seem like information that’s that important for my circumstances.” I ask while scribbling the note and shoving it into his hand. He only glanced at a technician before avoiding meeting my gaze.  Well!  So glad I agreed to this shit! That’s just Awesome!  With awesome capitalized for emphasis!
Yep, I am definitely regretting this decision the longer I stay in here. Being shut into their machine of death is not helping with my claustrophobia.  My breathing exercises start to shake as I lose focus on calming my heartbeat.  Suddenly the hatch opened and he handed down a piece of paper. 
“This paper will help you in any situation you may fall into.” The piece of paper is… absolutely blank. 
“Are you actually kidding me? Are you pulling my leg?”  I am now very doubtful that this is real, they are a bunch of creepy people that are about to kill me. 
“This is the twenty first century, just trust the letter.” Oh my god I am dead I am going to die.  What have I done?  What on earth have I done?
Before I could verbally react, he slams the hatch shut and I can hear his muffled voice order for the machine to be started up. “No wait!”
But it was too late. Something was happening and it was happening very fast. Everything was suddenly lit up, the inside of the machine now kind of looked like a bad tanning bed.  I shrieked at the sudden blinding white light that was filling my vision. 
That was when the pain began for real, it felt as if my head was being ripped away from my body and exploding at the same time. The agony was ripping through me!  God the pain was too much!
I am pretty sure my screams could be heard from Ipswich because I could taste the blood in my throat. I was screaming myself raw and still it wasn’t ending.  With one last ripping tear of agony, everything went black.
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