#inspired by him stepping on FOUR consecutive mines

[neon-tigre95]

i am so normal about him i swear

[an-agender-disaster]

Whumptober Days 9-12  (Shackled, Unconscious, Stitches, “Don’t Move”)

I rolled all of these into one long work that was inspired by @aromanticandaromatic‘s awesome post here! I would highly recommend it! If this gets enough love, I would defiantly consider making it a series! 

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Word Count- 1929

Characters- Unsympathetic Logan Sanders, Virgil Sanders, Sympathetic Remus, Sympathetic Deceit (Eden)

Ships- Platonic/Familial Anxcitmus 

Warnings- Unsympathetic/Abusive Logan, Sympathetic Dark Sides, Blood, Medical Descriptions of Gore, Gore, Dehumanization, Minor Swearing

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    Logan pulls at the creature’s wings. No longer was it Virgil, nor was it his friend. No, it was an experiment. Y731*2A. That was all it would ever be to him now.

    Placing the unconscious subject Y731*2A onto the lab table, wings facing the ceiling, he gingerly moved it’s wrists into the shackles, as to not injure it any further. Just capturing the thing after it unveiled it’s wings proved to be enough of a challenge. The bruises and cuts along Logan and itself were enough of a testament to that.

    Locking the cuffs into place, Logan flips open his notebook. He already has the preliminary data from E793*4C and T132*3D, the Kraken and the basilisk respectively, so this would not be too difficult, so long as he stuck to the procedure. Pulling on a lab coat and a pair of latex gloves, Logan begins his prodding. 

    Knowing the creature would not be “asleep” for much longer, he started testing vital signs. Heart rate was slow, but that was to be expected with the condition it was in. The temperature that was recorded is 97.8 degrees Fahrenheit, or 36.56 degrees Celsius, a little low compared to Vi- subject Y731*2A’s normally observed temperature, but it is most likely nothing to worry about. It’s blood pressure is 120/80, a healthy level to be at. Finally, it’s respiratory rate is 16 breaths per minute, and slowly speeding up, an indicator that the subject is stirring. Logan would have to record height and weight later.  

    While still recording each statistic in the notebook, the experiment begins to regain consciousness. It pulls up it’s arms, likely an attempt to sit up, and when it finds itself unable to do so, begins panicking, its heart rate and respiratory rate increasing. It’s wings flare out, perhaps an attempt to fly away, perhaps because it is afraid, though it is interesting all the same. Logan will have to run more tests with a similar stimulus.

    “I must ask that you calm yourself,” Logan tells it, voice indifferent to the matter. He finishes jotting down his thoughts and looks across the wingspan, curious as to just how wide they really were.

    “Logan! Let me out or I swear, I’ll-” the subject’s sentence is cut off as a jolt of electricity is sent through the cuffs to the experiment. It screams out in pain as 100 mA travels through it’s body, not enough to kill, but more than enough to severely injure it.

    When the subject stops, Logan begins, “I would not recommend doing that.” He adjusts his glasses. “If you put too much tension on the cuffs, I have them rigged up to release a sudden electrical pulse, hopefully effectively calming you down.”

    “Why are you doing this? This isn’t like you!” it cries out, wrists covered in burns. Logan chooses to ignore Y731*2A, and instead looks down at the next part of the procedure. Incision. 

    Gathering the needed supplies: a scapple, suture, and a needle, Logan looks back to the experiment on the lab table. It is laying mostly still, seemingly defeated by it’s own eagerness to escape. With all of his supplies on a tray, Logan lifts it off the counter, puts it onto a cart, and rolls it back to the table. He only wishes he had painkillers, just to slightly numb the test subject, but Logan knows he will just have to make do without.

    When he and the cart arrive, he pushes down the wings, trying to get the best view of where the wing’s humerus connects to the spine. “Don’t move.” With one last look at Y731*2A, Logan makes the incision into the wing. 

    He cuts down, deep into the muscle, until he hits a bone. Y731*2A screams out in agony as nerves are cut through. Logan accidentally slices through an artery, causing blood to spurt out onto his gloves and the creature’s bareback. It’s preteen ebony wings grow darker with the stain.

    Logan sighs, “You really do need to calm yourself, as I have formerly stated. This was a minor incision. It will get worse as we progress.” The experiment doesn’t respond and only begins to pull up his arms again. Stepping back before the shock, Logan grabs the needle and satire and puts down the scalpel. 

    He waits for the electroshock to end, then walks back up to the table, where the creature has gone mostly limp. “I hope you are willing to cooperate now. All of you test subjects have the same reaction. It is quite tiresome.”

    It only takes a few minutes for Logan to sew up the wound and wrap the wing up in bandages, but when he’s done, the subject seems anxious to get away, and he resorted to trying yet again to pull his wrists out of the cuffs. 

“Are you really so eager to injure yourself?” Logan questions after the third wave of pain floods through Y731*2A. Sighing after receiving no response, Logan wheels the table out of the primary testing room and into the white-tiled hallway. His shoes clack against the floor and echo down the hall and into the main housing unit of the experiments, where he was heading.

    Logan unlocks the door and wheels in the subject, but only after ensuring the other two are still locked in the secondary containment facility. After he locks the door behind him, Logan walks over to the cameras and waits for the third stage to begin. 

…

    Virgil was in pure agony. Three times he hoped he could free himself, and three times the electricity pulsed into his arms and through his body. His right wing was on fire when it was cut open, which was only amplified by the second bout of energy. After the third shock, he chose to keep his eyes shut, and was wheeled out of the cramped room and into the hallway, then kept them shut when he heard another door unlock, and finally when he felt the table get pushed into another room.

    Only then he lets his eyes slowly open at the sound of two doors consecutively unlocking. Logan wouldn’t let two doors open at the same time if he would only be able to get into one. Virgil still knew enough about the logical side to know his habits. Or, he thought he did, before now.

    The cuffs were still locked when two familiar faces entered the room.

    “Virgil!” Remus shouted, running up to his friend.

    “So he got to you, too…” Eden slithers to the table, stroking his ungloved hands through Virgil’s hair. Peering down at Virgil’s wrists, he questions, “Just how many times did you try to break the cuffs?” Virgil only groans in response, leaning into the cool touch of his friend.

    “He’ll unlock the shackles soon. He did for both of us, anyways.” Remus holds onto his friend’s cuffed hands like a lifeline, his warm touch like a fireplace on a cold winter's night. “For now, we should clean up some of this blood.”

    “And get you a shirt,” Eden adds, noting Virgil’s bare chest.

    Remus nods, “And a shirt. But we’ll need to cut a hole into it…”

    “Give him one of yours. You’re both closer to the same size, and yours have holes already, to accommodate the tentacles.”

    Remus peers at his tall, well-built frame compared to Virgil’s short, petite frame, then nods. “Yeah. I’ll get him one of mine.” Remus walks into one of the four conjoined rooms as Eden slithers to a nearby foldable table, grabs a rag, and dips a small portion of it into water. Moving back to Virgil’s side, he slowly ebbs away the bloodstains, working from Virgil’s spine to his wings, where he takes more precaution to get it all off. 

    Relaxing at the touch of the naga, Virgil can almost forget about the situation he is in. Almost forget that one of his best friends took him in for experiments. Almost forget all of the pain in the last few minutes.

    Almost.

    Remus soon returns with a clean white shirt, many sizes too large for Virgil’s small frame. As he was walking up to his winged friend, the shackles released Virgil from their grasp, allowing the two others to truly see just how badly his wrists were injured. They both stop what they were doing to look at the burns.

    “Oh, Virgil…” Remus whispers in sympathy, hands fluttering around Virgil’s, unsure of what to do.

    “How many times did that bastard shock you!” Eden literally hisses, anger apparent on his face. His hands clenched into fists as he thinks about how much his friend just went through, and he was powerless to help. He was between punching a wall or himself. 

    “We don’t have anything for that, do we?” Remus asks, looking to Eden as Virgil props himself onto his elbows.

    “No. No, we don’t.” Eden responds through clenched teeth. He reaches out for the shirt from Remus, then pulls Virgil close, his tone immediately changing, “Can you put your arms up? Did he cut off circulation at all?”

    Virgil takes the shirt from Eden and swings his legs off the table. Now sitting down, he responds, “I’m fine. It’s not all that bad, you know.” Pulling the shirt over his head, he slips it on. There is plenty of room for his wings to come out the back, thanks to the height difference between himself and Remus.

    “I’m pretty sure this should be a bigger deal, you know.” Eden hisses, taking one of Virgil’s wrists in his hands. The scaled fingers on his left-hand brush against the wrist’s charred flesh. Virgil shrugs in response, apathetic to the garden of problems that are sprouting up. 

    Remus yawns as he looks around the room, “What time is it?” His tentacles droop behind him, slick with their natural slime.

    “Late.” Eden helps Virgil to his feet as the sound of another door unlocking rings through the air. The lights flash twice in succession, a telltale sign of the coming night. “I suppose we should show you to your room, then?” Eden offers his non scaled hand to his friend, and, when he accepts, they move further into the hallway. 

On each side, there were two sliding glass doors, three of which were open to another white-tiled room, these with a small cot and cabinet. “Remus and I usually rotate around these rooms, but we don’t have to if that makes you uncomfortable,” Eden explains, “But your stuff will be put in here-” he gestures to one of the rooms, “-when he sends it in.” Virgil nods along, looking into the room. It was an identical copy of the other three, with the same white-tiled floors and walls, grey cot with a dark grey spread, and light grey cabinet.

The lights start to flash again, a copy of the previous pattern. “When that happens, we need to be in our rooms. It’s like a late bell in school.” Remus steps into the door nearest to him, as does Eden. Virgil quickly enters his, and all of the doors slide shut and are remotely locked.

The lights both inside and outside the room turn off, and the glass door tints until it is nearly opaque. Looking once more around the room, Virgil settles onto the bed, back and wings to the ceiling. He let his eyes settle shut, the terrors of the day fading into dreams.

[fanaticwritings]

His Secret - CHAPTER 1

Sam Winchester x Reader [AU]

A/N: This series was lowkey inspired by a book I read and also another favorite character of mine. (Bonus points to those who can guess which character I’m talking about XD) Thanks to @dancing-the-hellfire-rumba for being kind enough to brainstorm and lay the story line out with me. Couldn’t have done this without your help <3 The aesthetic was made by me, pictures courtesy of pinterest.�� I am really really excited about this series and hope you guys like it too.

my masterlist

word count: 1.9k

warnings: implied smut and loads of backstory

S A M

Sam Winchester twisted the key and the car whirred to life. The steering wheel felt smooth under his hand, spinning at the lightest touch. The XXW Mary sped out of the parking lot and Sam pushed down on the accelerator. The car roared and lurched forward. In the matter of a few seconds it was breaking lightning speed. It screeched as Sam made turn after turn, testing the limits of the beautiful black vehicle.

The car was the newest product of his brother’s, Dean Winchester's company and equipped with technology from his own. Sam made another swift turn at the next corner, as the road widened out ahead of him. He was almost there. The sky grew darker as night settled in, the tall buildings almost camouflaging into the velvet of the obsidian sky. He pulled to a stop in front of the hall, heart thudding against his chest. In spite of having done this for four consecutive years, he hadn't gotten used to it. He stepped out onto the red carpet and was instantly greeted by shouts and blinding camera flashes. Sam stood there for a heartbeat, letting the cameras capture his dazzling smile and then handed the car keys to the valet. The paparazzi followed him, as he made his way up the stairs of the hall. "The car looks new, Mr. Winchester. New item the Winchester Mobile Ltd. bringing out this year?" "Yeah. It's equipped with some of the latest Winchester Tech and is easy on the eyes," he answered, flashing a brilliant smile. He could see the headlines tomorrow. Sam Winchester confirms launch of the XXW Mary. He continued to talk about the car for the next few minutes, letting the cameras and microphones record his words. It was all he had to do for publicity. Draw them in and hype it up. He made his way up the stairs, determined to get away from the swarm of paparazzi. "What's the next big thing for Winchester Corp?" "Who are you dating?" They quizzed him mercilessly but he didn't take the bait- Only smiled and winked at them. He was thankful when he reached the top and walked into the hall, leaving the wave of cameras behind him. He was immediately greeted by Dean, his brother and also the most important person in his life. "Hiya, Sammy," Dean said, embracing him. He smiled at him appreciatively and for a moment Sam was whisked back in time. Jo Harvelle, Dean’s girlfriend, stood beside him, smiling. Sam embraced her too. Guests continued to pour in behind him. Associates of the corps, big names in the city and a few family members. Media partners were present too and were walking around, talking to the guests. Every year, the Winchester brothers held a benefit in the memory of their loving mother on her birthday. The proceeds of the benefit would all be donated to “Wings“- a charitable foundation, which looked after orphaned/abandoned children and underprivileged mothers-to-be. Sam spotted Castiel Novak standing with Mr. Azel, one of the oldest associates of the corporation. Cas was one of the most senior members of the company and also happened to be Sam and Dean's best friend. His blue eyes instantly lit up at the sight of his tall friend. Sam greeted Mr. Azel too, extending a polite hand. Mr. Azel shook his hand firmly. He had a very unsettling smile but one that Sam was used to, having had to do business with him for the longest time. He excused himself politely and ran into yet another associate. He was getting desperate now. He was listening to the elderly associate intently but his hazel eyes darted around the hall, in search for someone else. There she was, leaning against an ivory pillar, drinking champagne from a delicate glass. His nerves calmed on their own accord. He made his way to her quickly and before she could even say anything, pulled her into a warm embrace. "Heya to you too, handsome," she said when he finally pulled away from her. Y/N. The love of his life. She looked resplendent in the silver gown that shimmered into gold when she moved. The delicate rings of diamond that looped through her ears, accentuated her features perfectly. Her hair was in an up do, a few loose curls making look even more enticing. It was mesmerising, but nothing compared to the beauty that she herself was. Y/N grounded him and understood him like no one else. It hadn't taken him long to fall for her. "Late to your own event, Mr. Winchester?," she teased, glancing at an imaginary watch on her hand. "Yup," he said, winking at her. "Finished with the meet and greet?" She asked again. He wanted to kiss her but it was too crowded for it to be possible. Besides, news reporters were around. "Sadly, no. Don't you see the crowd?" he replied, gesturing at the public. She made a face at that and he fell even more in love with her in that instant, if that was even possible. "You go finish with that and come back to me soon," she commanded. He would incline to her request at this very instant if he could. He nodded his head in acknowledgement before kissing her cheek lightly, unable to resist the urge and then walked away. He had to talk a lot throughout the evening, something he grew easily tired of. It was in his job description to do so, but he couldn't for the life of him, ever get used to it. Running such a giant company was no piece of cake. He loved his company, there was no doubt about it. He poured his heart and soul into the work he did and never questioned it. However, there were certain aspects to it that he couldn’t help but dislike. Winchester Corp was founded and owned by John Winchester, Sam and Dean's father, until the great tragedy that befell them. Everybody had heard the story one too many times. On the fateful night of November 2nd, 1985, the Winchester House caught on fire. Both Mary and John Winchester, did not make it. John had escorted Dean and Sam outside, who were six and two years old at the time, respectively. The fire had consumed half of the house by then and John had rushed in to rescue an unconscious Mary. 

He never made it back. 

The police had confirmed that it had been an accident. The power lines had short circuited somehow and that was it. Winchester Corp saw it's downfall after the tragedy, with nobody to man it. None of the associates owned enough share in the company to become the next owner. All the beneficiaries were passed down to Sam and Dean, according to the company policy, but they were not of age. Until either of the sons became of age, the organisation was ruled to be in charge of their uncle Bobby Singer. He couldn’t help the company much, having had to deal with his own issues at the time. Winchester Corp was almost on the verge of bankruptcy, having managed on the shoulders of a few faithful associates, until Sam and Dean who were just 19 and 15, took the wheel into their own hands. They then began to restore the company back to its full glory. Ten years later, Winchester Tech- lead by Sam and Winchester Automobile Pt. Ltd.- lead by Dean, united under the Winchester Corp brand, became two of the biggest companies in the world. The brothers seem to have moved on with their lives, to the world. But only their closest knew that their past still haunted them. The benefit came to an end after Sam declared the final funds they had managed to raised, with Dean clapping by his side cheerfully. The cheque was handed over to the representative from the charity and after a few drinks, the crowd parted. "Finally," Y/N said as she walked over to Sam, the gown shimmering at her every step. Sam was in awe. It was only them, Dean and Jo now.   Sam smiled down at her as she looped her arm through his and they walked outside, along with Dean and Jo. Sam and Dean talked alone for a while, immersed deep in the conversation while Y/N and Jo chatted with each other. Sam was still distracted by her, he had barely seen her all week and hadn’t been able to spend any time with her today either. Their timings rarely matched. She would be called for work randomly and he had a company to man. How they still managed to love each other, was something neither of them knew. Maybe, some things were just meant to be. Finally, Sam and Dean broke apart and made their way to their respective cars. "Come home with me?" Sam whispered to her when they were finally alone by the car, brushing his lips against her ear. She nodded a yes, clearly having missed him too. She wanted to say something, it shone in her eyes but she chose not to. Sam didn’t press her. The city blurred around them as they drove by. Y/N looked out the window the entire time, barely saying anything. Sam stole occasional glances at her and she looked beautiful then too. If he could, he'd stop the car right now and show her just how much he had missed her. "Look at the road, Winchester," she murmured, not sparing him a glance. Sam smiled as he pulled into the parking lot. The moment they were at the two storey house, Sam slammed himself against Y/n and sealed her lips with a kiss. Frantic hands found her waist and he pulled her close until not even a hair width of distance separated them. God, he had missed her so much. Later, they lay in bed, holding each other.

"You okay?" she asked him, pulling herself to him. Y/N knew all too well how being social took a toll on him. It was tiring, pretending to be someone he wasn't- all smiles and perfect posture. There was no way around it though and he tried his best to get used to it. It was slow and painful but he tried. There was also something else on his mind, however. "Yeah, I'm fine. Go to sleep, baby. You have to wake up early tomorrow," he said, curling her hair behind her ear. "I’m proud of you," she murmured, sighing deeply. Sam smiled at her and pecked her forehead. Her words had assured him, somehow. A moment later, she was fast asleep. Sam waited an hour, listening to her rhythmic breathing and soft snores. He smiled internally. How he had gotten so lucky, he'd never know. If two months ago someone would've told him that he was going to meet the love of his life, he would've laughed at them. He got up gingerly, shifting incredibly slowly so as to not wake her up. She mumbled something in her sleep as he placed her back on the bed. She shifted a little and then stilled again. Making sure that she was still asleep, Sam put on a t-shirt, a jacket and a pair of tracks. He pocketed his phone and a wad of cash that he carefully took out of his safe. He closed the door slowly, watching Y/N all the while. He watched the slow rise and fall of her chest. He almost didn't want to leave her; it was a feeling he had to push away every time. He locked the door behind him with a soft click. Soon, he was out the door and past the gates of the large villa. The security guards didn’t stop him. They were used to this. He pulled his hoodie over his head in a way that shadowed his face completely and trudged off into the night. // Feedback is my elixir, people! Please please let me know what you think of this fic!! It’s what keeps me going. Leave a comment/ ask <33 //

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[its-jujumanankil]

✨ post 22nd bday feels ✨

My mind, body and spirit have been in a funk. A long, exhausting, quicksand-kind of funk. I’ve been caught up with reality. Emotionally drained to the highest degree only to repeat itself over and over again. I’ve lost a bit of sight and inspiration when opening my third creative eye to the many ideas worth talking about. The last time I had “creative writer’s” block was for five consecutive years. When unpleasant things happen to me, I fall into the following 4-step routine: a deepening sadness, an abundance of self-pity, sudden realization of opportunity and change, acceptance then happiness in moving forward. I am currently between stages three and four. Like I’ve mentioned in my previous postings on here or speakfreelyjules.wordpress.com, things happen and life is confusing. You never know what path or obstacle life challenges you with but with every step of it lies a bigger meaning to life. A friend of mine came by today after I had spent the day with a lovely individual, and explained his recent successes within his career. The passion and optimism I felt from his energy was so exhilarating the only way I can appropriately react was with a genuine hug congratulating him. His story opened the Pandora’s box of appreciation, challenges and ambition in creating my own “success story”.

[marionbagenwell]

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[karenngdance]

Old Way with Archie

I loooooove Archie so much, he is like the ultimate dance father in NYC. I’ve taken his class only a handful of times - he’s always at the same time as Danielle so you have to make a choice. Tonight my friend Rich James (WHO JUST PERFORMED AT THE GRAMMYS!) was there, so it was nice to take class with him and Archie is so wonderfully supportive of all of us. 

TODAY WE LEARNT: 

- Side to side step touch : hips sway and dip, with bounce, with shimmy

- Catwalk:  To prepare: Rise up to releve, bend the knees, hand on hip. Technique: Walk L foot cross over = photograph, walk right foot front = travel. Detail: Hip sways out on the foot you are stepping on. Do not bounce, keep the upper body still and height while catwalking.  Variations: (1) Photograph Photograph. (2) Double Up! (3) Sideways Suzie Q - keeping knees together, but continue to tip hips and keeping upper body still. 

Creep - body hunched forward while cat-walking in parallel, still popping hip out - often while serving face or with hands on hips. Back in the day they called it creeping before cat-walking. 

-  Serving Face: What’s do you serve on a plate? There’s nothing tastier than your face! Hands flatten like a plate, palms face up, wrists close to chin. (1) Sliding parallel from chin out. (2) Criss Cross.  (3) Sliding forward in an arc out.  Giving Face: Styling hands like holding wine glass and offering your “mask” by extending from your chin straight out to your opponent. “Honey I don’t know what happened to your face, but use mine instead”. 

- Cut Throat - Style hand into flat blade and cut throat in a flat line under chin. Variation: (1) Use 1 finger and turn head upon nail sliding to a certain point, still in a straight line. (2) The Colombian Necktie - drug cartel/drug lords would kill by slitting someone’s throat ear to ear, then pulling their tongue out from the bottom of their neck. Slide your finger from ear to ear, and pull out from neck with fist while looking head back. 

- Old Way is influenced by: Martial Arts, Military, and Lines/Models. Blades, Spears, Knives (and plates). Fingers may be pointed straight out and flat, thumbs tucked (martial arts), or out to create a frame. 

- Arm Exercises | Lines: (1) V, T, Parallel forward, Parallel up (above head, pull them back to be in line from side angle). (2) Four Right Angle Boxes - Front R, Front L, Overhead L, Overhead R ; Variation - move in 3 instead of 4s. (3) Pull from behind, strike diagonally, and cut out. 4) Pushing palms out front, or to the side, or above. 

- Hand performance - is more of a new way / vogue femme element. Telling a story with your hands. Note this is different with arm performance, and while they may be mixed together frequently, some stricter judges will cut you if you put arm performance (e.g flexing etc) in a hand performance category. 

Butterfly over the head - keep the elbows up and pressed back to create a diamond overhead. One hand palm up, other hand palm down. Swivel at the wrist to flap down down (over forehead) and back back (behind the head) When hands swivel back, they should be as far back as to when hands swivel front. Glide the base of the hand along your head to keep it smooth. Variation: One handed butterflies. 

- Military Walks: Marching while styling shoulders (1) Bouncing both shoulders up and down on quarter beats (2) Alternating shoulders on quarter beats; variation knocking chin up to walk backwards, head knocking shoulder back down to walk forwards again. (3) Sideways walks:  With body facing L side, front foot R, back foot behind L, front foot R, back foot L swings front to change sides, body faces R side. Continue doing with arms and blades. (4) High Knee March with angled arms - one hand on hip, other hand resting on front knee cap. Swivel head side to side. 

- Side to side angles:  Facing front in A frame, one hand on hip, other hand cradling head like pin up pose. Switch to other side. Give profile of face while looking up slightly. Switch sides. Detail: be sure to keep body flat to front, elbows pressed out to create sharp angles. Variation: Change levels while switching sides consecutively to end in a wide 2nd position plie (squat). 

- Pivot on one foot to turn. Heel toe to swivel around while staying in one pose. Knee slide to move forward. Get up by straigtening back leg into A frame and standing up straight. 

- Banji Style: When the gay voguers spotted a hood guy  / bboy they were into, and used the code word to express they were into him. Banji style is voguing with a hip hop / hood / bboy feel - baseball cap, stylized as if a hood guy was voguing. Using cap to turn the head, arms variation, more hunched over, gun signs. This is an old style that not many people do anymore but the OG’s will recognize it. 

- Pop Vogue existed! Extending arms in front, then in back and turning body then head, like a twist-o-flex. Popping old way lines, or tutting patterns. 

- Runway: To look as tall as possible. Different walks vary with the stride, height of picking up feet, and how arms rest or sway.  Naomi Campbell sways arms in front. Evening gown use hands sway at sides to keep dress moving and out of the way, keeping body still. European keep arms behind. Sportswear, can have a bit of bounce. 

GENERAL THINGS TO KEEP IN MIND

- Everything is for the camera, keep that in mind so you don’t look crazy transitioning and caught awkward movement mid snap. Be Exact.  

- Get there and pose perfect. No extra movement is needed. Know where the movement ends and don’t do extra jiggle or unnecessary things. 

- Better to wait than be late. Move to every second beat, rather than rushing. 

- Know the inspiration, the rule to create your own. Martial Arts & Military Lines. 

[type2diabetestreatments-blog]

Carrying the Olympic Torch... with Diabetes!

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Carrying the Olympic Torch... with Diabetes!

Living with diabetes can be a lot to deal with every day, and some of us have joked that navigating our daily D-routines can sometimes feel like an Olympic sport in itself! The Diabetes Olympics, one might say.

Of course, most of us don't really have any insight into both living with diabetes and being a part of the actual Olympics. But some fellow PWDs can claim that, and not just the elite athletes striving for medals and record-breaking wins at the world championship level...

This year, at least two dozen fellow D-Community members are carrying the symbolic Olympic Torch as it makes its way to London for the start of the 2012 Summer Olympics, between July 27 and August 12!

As you may know, the Olympic Torch Relay is a ritual tradition in which the "sacred flame" marking the Olympic Games is carried by foot to the host country, transferred from one torchbearer to another. This year's relay was a 70-day journey to the UK, where 8,000 individuals are transporting the torch through 1,018 villages, cities and towns toward London after its arrival from Greece on May 18. A search of the Torchbearer online profiles shows that 20 teens and adult PWDs are carrying the torch at some point, as well as four others with a personal or professional connection to diabetes.

Odds are there are more. The online database isn't searchable by keywords such as "diabetes" but can be only be examined by name, location and date. Plus, who knows how many PWDs might just not have listed the fact that they have diabetes? So, without spending weeks of dedicated time on this, we are relying on Google searches, the London 2012 Organizing Committee's Press Office, and organizations like the JDRF UK to help us break down the numbers down and pinpoint the D-peeps.

A specific request from the 'Mine unfortunately went unanswered this week by the Olympic Press Office in London — not surprising, given we're in mid-July just before the Olympics begin.

Phil Buckley, head of media for JDRF UK, says the organization has been directly involved with publicity for 13 torchbearers and they've helped develop press coverage on that. He says the feedback so far is that those who've participated have found the experience "absolutely phenomenal."

Since there's no centralized list of who all these torchbearers are, we've compiled a list here; as mentioned, it's by no means comprehensive.

But seriously: if you want to be inspired by the amazing things people are doing while living with diabetes, I highly encourage you to scan through some of these profiles! I did, and am very moved, and proud of each and every person. And for a country that has an estimated 2.5 million diagnosed PWDs with many not receiving adequate care , these individuals' stories are all the more inspiring!

The PWDs who've already carried the torch in May, June and early July include:

Amy James, 24, diagnosed in 2000

Toby Goodyear, 13, dx'd at age 10

Melanie Stephenson, 24, dx'd at 13

Hannah Jarrett, 15, dx'd in February 2009

Chloe Gillum, 18, dx'd at age nine

Calum "Chancy" Macleod, 48, a type 1 who also has a 4-year old daughter dx'd in 2009.

Blair Mcclymont, 18, diagnosed at five

Cairon Berry, 38, dx'd more than 17 years ago

Paul Hagreen, 18, dx'd at age four

Emma Register, 14, dx'd at 12 months

Tom Brennan, 23, who lives with Downs syndrome and type 1

Christian Dowen, 14, dx'd at four

Fraser Hart, 13, diagnosed at three

There's also 43-year old D-Dad Trevor Griffiths, whose son Jack was diagnosed at age three; 40-year old Keith Bray, who's participated in JDRF UK events to raise money for diabetes for his friend Chancy Macleod who has type 1; and Dr. Badr Alshibani from Saudi Arabia, who focuses his practice and advocacy on patients living with diabetes.

Just this week, four more with a diabetes connection have carried the torch:

Andy Macklin, 56, who was diagnosed a half-century ago at age six

Ryan Hodd Jarvis, 15, whose parents are both living with diabetes

Amy Wilton, 17, dx'd at age five and a fellow D-Blogger in the UK (!)

Steve Mcmenami, 45, who was diagnosed "some years ago"

Today, two other PWDs are handling the torch:

William Chanter, 15, dx'd at age six

Gavin Griffiths, a 20-year old who was diagnosed at age eight and is now another DOC'er on Twitter as @Diathlete and writes his own D-blog called Diathlete

Another PWD-torchbearer initially listed was Cara Dartnell-Steinberg, a 13-year old diagnosed at six. She was originally scheduled to carry the torch through Westminster on July 26, just a day before the torch arrives in London and the Opening Ceremonies begin. But as of July 25, her name was sadly no longer listed as a torchbearer on the London Olympics site. 🙁

Just because the Torch Relay comes to a close doesn't mean the D-Community's representation is finished... there's a good chance one of the most visible roles — the person lighting the flame at the Opening Ceremonies — could be a fellow type 1!

Sir Steve Redgrave

Sir Steve Redgrave, who actually is a star Olympic athlete himself and carried the torch on July 10, is in the running to light the cauldron in London. Nominated by the British Olympic Association, Steve is hailed as Britain's greatest Olympian because of his unprecedented five consecutive gold medals in rowing. This year, he was one of 111 individuals to carry the torch on Day 53 (July 10), holding it up while in a boat (he's a rower, after all!) for a little more than a half-hour through the town of Henley-on-Thames in the South Oxfordshire area of England.

Apparently, Steve's up against against retired rower and former teammate Daley Thompson for the cauldron lighting honor, pitting him against someone dubbed by many to be "the greatest decathlete of all time."

Sounds pretty intense, in that Olympic sports politics sort of way...

Well, whether Sir Steve gets the chance won't be known until the Opening Ceremonies, as they keep that stuff close to the chest until the final moments. But we can hope! If nothing else, he's a contender and has already carried the torch!

And that's something anyone can be proud of, says Gary Hall, Jr., a fellow type 1 PWD who's a three-time Olympic swimmer with 10 medals to his name. He was recently inducted into the U.S. Olympics Hall of Fame, and took some time earlier this week to chat with the 'Mine about his thoughts on what this D-Community representation means to him.

"To carry the torch is a connection to the Olympic movement and tradition, and those who have that opportunity partake in the tradition and are a part of everything it symbolizes," he said. "(Carrying the torch) is the strongest bond between the public and the Olympic movement. They represent the diversity of humanity, and it's really neat to see the diabetes community represented."

While Gary has never carried the torch himself, his dad (Olympic swimmer Gary Hall, Sr.) had the shared experience of being both an Olympic athlete and a torchbearer. The younger Gary, who retired as an Olympic swimmer in 2008 and now only swim for recreation, says he'd be honored to carry the torch if that opportunity ever came his way. He's now following the Olympic trials, supporting the Olympic movement, and supporting diabetes advocacy — taking on public roles such as being a national JDRF advocate and leader. In that personal role, he's heading to London to not only watch the games, but be a part of the D-Community's representation at the Olympics.

"There are several individuals with diabetes representing our community on the Olympic stage either as athletes or as torchbearers. That's important stuff, and I think it brings us one step closer to seeing how the Olympics represent all of us," Gary told me during our phone interview.

He's also hoping to meet Sir Steve Redgrave, who he describes as one of Great Britain's most accomplished athletes.

"I know firsthand what it takes to succeed at the Olympic level while living with diabetes, so just having him as a candidate is an incredible accomplishment," Gary said. "As a member of Team Diabetes, I'm cheering for him! He's got my vote, as worthless as it may be in the selection process," he chuckles.

Looks like those of us in the D-Community have some exciting things to watch for in the next week or so, where fellow PWDs are playing their part in the Olympic Games. Not only carrying the Olympic flame, but helping to shine a light on all the great things that we CAN do despite diabetes!

In short, we'd like to say: Go, Team Diabetes!!!

Disclaimer: Content created by the Diabetes Mine team. For more details click here.

Disclaimer

This content is created for Diabetes Mine, a consumer health blog focused on the diabetes community. The content is not medically reviewed and doesn't adhere to Healthline's editorial guidelines. For more information about Healthline's partnership with Diabetes Mine, please click here.

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