#they were much more easily able to fit in here than in louisiana. which is a whole different can of worms
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weird 04:00 ark fact: i was raised in a cult !
#not one that one would typically think of but#it does not have an official name but the closest i can get is nazarene + southern baptist combo#it came out of a tiny church in louisiana where my great-grandmother was the preacher#extremely fire + brimstone etc. honestly nothing too buck by modern cult standards#bio family eventually moved from louisiana to kansas ( excluding great-grandmother )#they were much more easily able to fit in here than in louisiana. which is a whole different can of worms#disclaimer i am not religious. there are a couple traditions that i may convert to one day but none of them have traditional monotheism#anyway it is 04:00 and i am somewhat delirious so i felt like prattling a bit#please do not mind it :)#slaps brain / this bad boy can fit so much religious trauma in it#proceeds to cover my blog + space in religious imagery
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Cloak and Dagger
Masterlist
Author’s Note: The fic that no one asked for and took me a month to write 😂 Thank you to @reddead-trash, @toomanystoriessolittletime, @icanbeyourjedi, and @sugarontherims for enduring my ramblings and reading through my MANY drafts. Also I threw straight up shade to my Florida senator Rick Scott in this. *chef’s kiss*
Paring: James ‘Bucky’ Barnes x F!Reader
Words: 2.2k
Warnings: None
Summary: To stop a corrupt politician you and Bucky must go undercover at a campaign fundraiser.
***
It was a warm and humid summer afternoon in Delacroix, Louisiana as Sam Wilson and James 'Bucky' Barnes worked idly on giving the ‘Paul and Darlene’ a fresh paint job. Bucky had come down to visit for the weekend, helping out wherever he could while he and Sam worked on finding new leads about a disturbing rumor they had been hearing. There were whispers of a scientist who was attempting to recreate the super soldier serum, although there had been attempts over the decades it was looking like this one was credible. The shrill ring of Sam's phone cut into the tranquil silence by the water, Bucky watched Sam Wilson with mild interest as he spoke quickly on the phone.
“Well I haven’t heard from you in a while. ” Sam said, an impish smile on his lips as he looked at Bucky. “That’s great news. I think I have the perfect person for you. We’ll be there tomorrow night.”
“... what did you just sign me up for?” Bucky said with a sigh as Sam hung up.
“We’re going to DC to help a friend out. You’re going to need a suit.” Sam replied, entirely too amused for Bucky’s liking.
***
True to his word the next evening Sam was knocking on your apartment door, greeting you with a huge hug and introducing you to his tall, dark, and very handsome friend.
“This is Bucky, he’s the one I mentioned. He’ll be fantastic back up.” Sam said, clearly getting great joy out of the situation.
“What exactly are we doing anyway?” Bucky said with a raised eyebrow.
“Sam told me to keep an ear to the ground about any rumors of someone trying to recreate the super soldier serum, while I was gathering intelligence on a possible corrupt senator from Florida I found out he’s funding it. Tomorrow night is a fundraiser for his reelection campaign, I need to sneak into his office and get the name of the scientist he’s funding so we can squash his reelection and this new attempt at the serum.” You explained as you took a seat in your living room with them.
“Too many people can recognize me on The Hill, I’ll be spotted easily. That’s why she needs you, someone who can go a little more unnoticed when needed.” Sam affirmed.
“And you’re positive this senator is the one masterminding the whole thing?” Bucky queried.
“Absolutely, he bounced the money through several dummy accounts, but we managed to track it back to him. I need you to meet me here tomorrow night, we’ll be going into the event as Mr and Mrs. Sandoval. I had a contact intercept their invitation so we could get in.” You said matter-of-factly. As you studied Bucky you found yourself suddenly looking forward to the event tomorrow night, having a gorgeous man in a suit by your side was definitely a perk. Especially one who you knew could keep up in a fight if needed, from what Sam had told you about him. You had heard of The Winter Soldier, hell who hadn’t, but you were never one to judge someone by their past. If Sam said he was solid, he was solid.
“Sounds like you have this pretty planned out, what if something goes sideways?” Bucky asked
“I think both of us can handle thinking on our feet.” You said with an arched eyebrow. “Unless you’re having cold feet.”
“... I’ll be here at seven.” Bucky said with a small huff, slightly offended by your implication, much to your amusement. Sometimes a kick in the pride was all you need to get a man motivated.
***
You were attempting to zip up your dress when you heard the sharp raps on your apartment door, holding it closed with one hand you opened the door for Bucky with the other. It would be a blatant lie to say that the sight of him in the well-fitted suit didn’t make your mouth water and as you took in the full view of him with greedy eyes you saw he was smiling as he walked into the living room.
“Does the suit pass your inspection?” Bucky mused.
“You clean up well, sir.” You replied with a coy smile. “Can you help me with this zipper, I can’t get it for the life of me.”
“I-... of course.” Bucky stammered, slightly flustered as you turned around, your dress unzipped until right above the swell of your ass. Ever so careful he reached out and slowly dragged the zipper of your dress up, his fingers lightly grazing your back, giving you goosebumps.
“Thank you.” You said, a faint blush creeping across your cheeks, as you turned to face him.
“What’s your plan for tonight?” Bucky asked as he attempted to adjust his tie.
“We need to get into his office, my contact said there is a folder with all the information I need in his desk.” You smirked and arching an eyebrow at Bucky.
“Sounds fairly straightforward. What’s the catch?” He queried.
“He is starting to suspect someone has been poking into his new ‘business venture’ so there is increased security on the office floors.” You gave him a sly grin “We need to get in and out without being seen. Although I’m not opposed to light violence if it comes to that.”
“Duly noted,” Bucky said with a laugh and he offered you his arm. “Are you ready for this?”
“Let’s take this bastard down.” You said, slipping your arm in his and headed out of the apartment.
***
The building had a beautiful conference center was absolutely gorgeous, you had to admit. High vaulted ceilings with the soft glowing light of chandeliers hung overhead as you and Bucky walked arm in arm, the click clack of your stilettos' on the tile echoing in the lobby with each step. A well dressed young man stood just in front of the entrance, taking invitations from the various guests as they entered. Bucky reached into his suit pocket and presented the gold leaf embellished invitation to him.
“Mr and Mrs Sandoval?” He asked as he checked his list.
“Indeed.” You replied and wrapped an arm around Bucky’s waist, tucking yourself into his side. You had to be convincing, or at least that was the excuse you were going to use.
“Senator Scott thanks you for attending, enjoy your evening.” The young man stated as he gestured toward the room and stood to the side.
Bucky led you around the conference room, his hand resting on your lower back, as you both surveyed the room. You gave his side a light squeeze and nodded towards an ‘Employees Only’ door.
“There is supposed to be a stairwell through there. The senator’s office is on the seventh floor.” You said softly and Bucky nodded.
“Security looks light down here, mostly around the Senator, we should be able to slip through easily enough.”
“Famous last words.” You grinned and made your way towards the door, waiting for a moment outside before quietly slipping through. The two of you made your way quickly down the hall and into the stairwell. You quickly regretted your choice in footwear as you climbed the seven flights with Bucky, but managed to keep pace with him. Just as you were about to open the door to the seventh floor corridor Bucky reached out to stop you.
“Someone’s coming.” His voice barely above a whisper, he pulled you close and stepped behind the door. “I can knock him out but it won’t give us much time in the senator’s office before someone finds him”
"You know this is a stupid idea, right?" You said as you peered around him.
"I do." Bucky affirmed
"And that it could fail spectacularly, probably ending in injury?" You pinched the bridge of your nose in frustration.
"More likely his than mine, but yes." Bucky gave you a grin that could only lead to trouble.
"... alright let’s do this." You said, squaring your shoulders as you heard security approach the door. The poor security guard never stood a chance. As soon as the door shut behind him Bucky had him in a choke hold, a hand over his mouth to stop any cries for help. You were impressed, the ease and speed with which Bucky took him down was almost elegant. He lowered the now unconscious guard to the ground, just behind the door, and reached for your hand.
“Ready?” He grinned, clearly pleased with himself.
“Always.” His goofy confidence and glee rubbing off on you as you hurried down the hall hand in hand with him.
“This is his office, cover me.” You said quickly, hiking your dress up to reveal a thigh gun holster and a lock pick set tucked behind the gun against your leg. Bucky’s eyes raked over your body and he felt an expected surge of lust run through him as he turned to block you from view and keep a lookout. Within a minute you had the lock picked and held the door open for him.
“Age before beauty.” You grinned at him and gave a wink, earning an eye roll in return.
The office was large, a wall of books sitting behind the senator’s desk,
“How long do you think we have?” You muttered as you began to pick the lock of the desk.
“Three or four minutes, tops.” He replied, listening closely at the door for any sounds of movement outside the office.
“Good, I only need two.” The lock turned with a click and you quickly riffled through the drawer. “Ah ha! I’ve got it. Let’s get the hell out of here before we get caught.”
The pair of you quickly exited the office, Bucky’s hand lingering on your lower back as you walked out together. You weren’t sure if it was the cool metal of his hand on your lower back giving you goosebumps or being so close to him, but there was no time to sort through that as you heard voices coming from down the hall.
“Have you seen Brady? I didn’t see him on the rounds on the sixth floor.” A male voice said and you felt your heart race. There was no way to sneak out without being seen and you needed to think quickly. You backed up against the wall and tugged Bucky close, his chest bumping lightly against yours as he steadied himself.
“What are you doing?” He whispered as you pulled him tightly against your body.
“Trust me, this is the only way we’re getting out without fighting our way out.” You said quickly and reached for his face, crushing your lips to his. You could feel him stiffen in shock at first but as he wrapped his arms around you he eagerly responded, parting your lips with his tongue to deepen the kiss. For a moment the world around you faded away as you tugged him closer, fingers threading through his hair until you heard security shout.
“HEY! YOU TWO! This is a restricted floor!” The guard shouted, as he stomped his way down the hall towards both of you. You pulled away from Bucky reluctantly, staring up into his blue eyes.
“I’mmmm sorry, We got a bit lost, didn't we baby?” You slurred your words dramatically, slipping into the role of a drunken couple who couldn’t keep their hands off each other.
“Mmm, yes we did.” Bucky pulled you close, pressing a sloppy kiss to your hair. “Let’s go get another drink, honey.”
“I think you both have had more than enough.” The guard rolled his eyes, clearly fooled, and gestured to the elevator. “Come on, I think it’s time for the pair of you to leave.”
“Alriggggght alright, damn man. No need to get in a huff.” Bucky slurred, holding his hands up in ‘defeat’. Wrapping an arm around your shoulders he guided you to the elevator.
“Buzzkill.” You muttered at the guard as the door slid shut. The moment you were alone you rested your head on Bucky’s chest, his heart beating wildly and it wasn’t because of the guard. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
***
“Do you do this a lot?” Bucky murmured as you exited the building, a full moon hanging overhead in the evening sky.
“Break into government officials' offices for dirt or kiss gorgeous men to get out of a sticky situation?” You replied with an impish grin and shivering in the night air.
“Both.” He laughed as he tugged off his suit jacket and draped it over your shoulders.
“I do what I need to to get the job done. As for the second part? You could always give me a call and find out.” You bit your lip, feeling bold.
“Maybe I will.” Bucky grinned and slipped a vibranium arm around your waist.
Bucky called the next night.
***
tagged: @diva-1992, @yespolkadotkitty , @sarahjkl82-blog, @seasonschange-butpeopledont, @mrsparknuts , @disgruntledspacedad, @mrschiltoncat, @giselatropicana , @sugarontherims , @cynic-spirit , @supernaturalgirl, @farfromjustordinary, @buckstaposition , @evelynseventyr, @emesispo, @theamuz , @keeper0fthestars
#Bucky Barnes#james bucky barnes#tfatws#sam wilson#captain america#Bucky x reader#bucky barnes x reader#Sebastian Stan#reader insert#marvel#mcu#the winter soldier#bucky x you#bucky barnes x you#undercover
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They’re All Wax. Everyone.
Summary: Dean and Y/N investigate the disappearance of some college kids in the small town of Ambrose, only for Y/N to be captured and hurt. Dean looks for her and finds unimaginable horrors.
Pairing: Dean X reader
WARNINGS: Canon-typical violence, horror movie scenes
House of Wax (2005) Fusion with Supernatural
1938 words.
Notes: Please note that I changed the plot a bit, because some of it would not make sense if the main character was Dean Winchester. Just saying…Also this isn’t the whole movie.
Do you want a part II? Let me know!
Spoilers for House of Wax (2005) below
Dean was just getting into town as the sun was making its descent. The little town was surrounded by rough terrain and flooded gullies, forcing Dean to park the Impala and walk his way toward town, noting that your Dodge Charger was also parked near the faded ‘Welcome’ sign, the lettering cracked and nonexistent.
You hadn’t been answering your phone and Dean began to get worried, as you had split up to investigate the disappearance of some people in town. A couple of college kids were heading up toward the small town of Ambrose, Louisiana, where people were mysteriously vanishing and you figured you'd try to warn them before something bad happened. You were better with people than Dean and it was decided that you would traverse into town and interview the residents about the disappearances. It was rumored that these kids were camping a few miles south of town, so Dean headed in that direction, where he ran into a beat-up pickup truck parked near a pile of rotted animal corpses, the smell overpowering his senses.
Dean, of course, got stuck talking to the hick in the shitty pickup truck who apparently only chucked dead animal carcasses from the side of the road, and dribbled chew down his face. The hick had nothing interesting to say and when Dean left the guy to his dirty work, he realized he hadn’t heard from you in a few hours.
“Son of a bitch.” He muttered glancing down at his phone and seeing no missed calls or texts, before clicking on your name and listening to the phone ring. The call was quickly forwarded to your answering machine, your bright voice instructing the caller to call Dean or “Sammy.” He huffed out a sigh and hurried back to the car, slamming the door and speeding toward the town.
______________________
Dean required hourly check-ins when he was working a case with you without Sam, and you not following his rule made him anxious. He knew he was being overbearing, but he was really just being cautious. You were a good hunter, great even, but you weren’t his brother and he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if you got hurt while you were with him. Truth was, he felt more responsible for you than you knew, and the fact that he wasn’t with you right now was driving him crazy.
He shook the thoughts roughly from his mind and kept walking, his boot thuds echoing off of the vacant store fronts. None of the stores had lights on and there was one lone streetlight shining brightly onto the wet pavement. The entire scene made Dean uneasy and he walked a little faster toward the only store that looked open.
The service station at least had its lights on, and the sign advertised gas for a $1.19, which was comical, and showed the true colors of the ancient town. As Dean kept approaching the station, he began to hear footsteps behind him, trying their best to stay quiet. He gripped his gun tightly and spun around pointing the barrel right between the eyes of the guy who was sneaking up on him.
“Woah, woah woah!” He yelled raising his hands, clearly not expecting Dean to be carrying a weapon. The guy was dressed modernly in a hoodie and loose fitted jeans and stood out against the ancient store fronts.
“Hey man,” the guy continued raising his hands a little higher. “I’m just looking for my sister and her boyfriend.” Dean raised his eyebrows, but kept his gun raised, pointing instead at the guy’s chest.
“And?” Dean asked gruffly, making sure the kid knew he wasn’t about to back down without some more information.
“And my name’s Nick. My sister Carley and her boyfriend Wade came up here a couple hours ago and I haven’t been able to reach them on their cells.” Dean nodded at him once, sticking his gun back into his belt, recognizing the names from the information he knew already.
“Dean.” He stated nodding over his shoulder so Nick would follow. “I had a friend come up here a few hours ago as well, and I haven’t heard from her.” The two continued to walk toward the service station, when a guy dressed all in black, a cap hanging low over his eyes, walked out of the front entrance and locked the door behind him.
“Hey!” Dean called, glancing at Nick and approaching the guy slowly. The guy turned, shocked, before quickly turning his face into a smirk.
“We’re looking for some people. A young couple and a woman. You seen ‘em around?” The guy turned to walk away stating, “I don’t think I’ve seen ‘em.”
“Well, you don’t even know who they are or what they look like.” Dean wasn’t taking that for an answer, and he walked to stand in the guy’s way when Nick spoke up.
“This is the only gas station in town, right?”
The guy stopped briefly, heading to the open garage door. “That’s right.” He closed the door with a click, leaning on it and putting his hand on his hip, glancing up the street.
Dean sighed, annoyed. “Look man, they were here somewhere. Why don’t you just help us out and make this easy.” Dean was getting agitated by the way the guy was acting and didn’t trust him or his dingy hat as far as he could throw them.
“Like I said. I haven’t seen ‘em. Sorry. Can’t help ya.” The guy lumbered over to us staring down Nick as he walked, before turning around sharply to tie his shoe.
He pointed up the road. “You know what. My brother Vincent was down here a bit ago. He might’ve seen ‘em. He’ll be up at the house.” Dean turned to look where he was pointing, up the dark street. When he turned back around the guy was upright again looking smug.
“Wanna head up to the house?”
"Dean weighed his options before speaking, but Nick beat him to it. “Yeah. Whatever.”
“Yeah,” Dean agreed, looking at Nick, before stating gruffly, “lead the way.”
__________________________
You groaned, picking your head up slowly from the ground, the world quickly coming into focus making your head spin. You gripped it with one hand and pushed yourself to a sitting position with the other, hissing when your weight pressed down on your wrist, which was clearly sprained.
You hadn’t been in the town for more than a few minutes when something heavy hit you in the back of the head and you blacked out falling face first into the dirt.
You moved to open your mouth to take a deep breath and felt your lips resist. It felt like they had been glued shut and moving your finger to try to wrench your mouth open caused your body to shoot with pain. You groaned again and looked around, suddenly meeting the eye of a young girl climbing on top of a chair toward a closed grate in the ceiling.
She looked at you, eyes wide, and you nodded your head encouragingly, standing on wobbly legs, your head pounding. She reached as far as she could, sticking a finger through one of the holes waving at what you realized were muffled voices from outside.
You approached her slowly, when suddenly she wrenched her hand back toward her, blood spurting out wildly from a missing finger on her left hand. Her screams were muffled from her trapped lips, and you rushed toward her helping her stop the bleeding with one hand, while pulling your lips apart roughly with the other, feeling them split and the blood trickle down your lips. You finished tearing your mouth open when you heard a familiar gruff voice.
“Dean!” You screamed as loud as your lungs would allow. “I’m down here!”
_______________________________
Dean spun around wildly, hearing his name called from below. He reached into the back of his pants for his gun but when he turned back the guy had disappeared down the dark street. Dean swore under his breath focusing on the task at hand and headed toward the unlocked garage door, wrenching it open loudly. The wooden door to the room downstairs was locked, but Dean kicked it in easily, seeing Y/N covered in blood holding a young woman as she sobbed quietly. Both women’s faces were bleeding, and Dean rushed forward grabbing Y/N by the shoulders looking into her exploded pupils.
“Are you okay?” He asked gruffly, looking her over. She nodded, gasping quietly, and pointed at the young girl, who Nick was checking over. Dean watched them rip her lips open and he winced seeing them tear to match Y/N’s. Looking around the room quickly, it looked like the guy had super glued their mouths shut before heading upstairs. Dean grabbed Y/N’s hand glancing at her and pulled her up the stairs, Nick and Carley following slowly, Nick bearing much of Carley’s weight.
“The Impala is parked next to your car, let’s get back over there quickly.” Dean stated, hating the idea of leaving that man alive, but recognizing the tell-tale signs of blood loss, as Carley wrapped her missing finger in the torn bottom of the shirt she was wearing. Y/N was staring blankly forward, clearly concussed, and was having trouble standing on her own. Dean inched his arm over her shoulders and held her to him protectively.
“What about the other kids?” Y/N asked weakly, trying not to move her mouth much.
“What about Wade?” Carley suddenly yelled. “What if he turns him to wax?!”
Dean stopped in his tracks looking back at Carley, his arm still gripping around Y/N’s shoulders tightly.
“What do you mean wax?” He asked, furrowing his brow.
“You don’t get it!” She shouted back. “They’re all wax! Everyone.”
She turned roughly and stared out the window.
“No. Wait.” Suddenly she was out the door and down the street, Dean, Y/N, and Nick following her close.
“There was a woman in here,” she stated quietly, checking left and right down the street, before running up to the faded picket fence in front of the dilapidated house. Dean gripped Y/N’s shoulders as she approached, her legs still wobbly from not being used. We approached the picket fence and Nick jumped over it to get close to the curtained windows peering in, the buzz of a TV the only sound heard.
“She pulled back the curtain,” Carley stated, standing back with Dean and you. Nick looked in closely, jumping back startled when a woman suddenly pulled back the curtain. She had white hair pulled up into curlers and her dead eyes stared unseeing out into the distance. Even from this far back Dean could tell the woman wasn’t alive from the unnatural tinge of her skin.
“The whole town is rigged.” Carley said hopelessly.
“That’s impossible.” Nick stated, staring at the woman as she exited view slowly, the curtain falling back into place, dust whispering against the glass. Minutes later, the woman appeared again, gears grinding harshly on the mechanism that pushed her toward the window.
Nick peeked into the house again. “You’re saying that’s a real person…underneath?”
“Yes,” Carley responded anxiously. “At the church they were all like that. 20 people at least.”
Y/N suddenly wobbled under her own weight, her knees giving out. Dean gripped her shoulders harder, yanking her to a standing position.
“Guys,” He started, glancing at Nick and Carley. “We need to get out of here.” Y/N’s eyes started to droop, and Dean looked at her quickly.
“Now.”
Read Part II Here
#spn spoilers#SPN FANDOM#spn fanfiction#spn crack#SPN#supernatural family#supernatural fanfiction#supernatural#dean x reader#protective dean#horror movie#house of wax#house of wax (2005)#chad michael murray#Horror Supernatural AU#Horror supernatural fusion#horror film#horror#violence#fanfic#fanfiction#spn au fanfiction
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Well, in about a year (expecting it to take that long) my blog name is going to get much longer.
Posted a couple days ago that I was looking to move out of Vermont, and now I’ve more or less decided on a place and town I’m looking to move to.
So, it’s looking like my blog name is going to change to “Centrist-Druid-Of-North-Carolina” because that’s where I’m looking to go.
The only downside of it is the fact that I’ll be far away from family. I do have a few friends in that area so I’m not losing out by a ton there, especially because I only have 2 up here. Was debating on South Carolina at first, but NC just happens to have my dream job as a possibility.
The Celtic Polytheist community also seems to be larger in NC than SC, which means I’ll have an easier time joining or starting an order there than SC. That becomes an immediate link if they’re decent people. And while, specifically, my grandmother was worried about the heat, she also doesn’t know that I used to go to Baltimore annually. The heat is intense compared to VT, but it’s also something I get used to in a day or two. And snow ceases to be an issue since the average annual snowfall is about 14 inches in NC, vs 4ft in VT. Sorry to my metric using followers, they didn’t list it in metric units. But basically, over 1 meter in VT and about .3 meters in NC.
So basically the amount of snow we get in 2 snowstorms is their annual snowfall. I know there’s probably going to be a couple of people that want me in their state. But the cost of living, outside of cities, is about what I thought was living in poverty. Yeah, the Northeast US is that expensive to live in. If I was somehow able to warp back and forth from VT to NC, I could work a part time job here for minimum wage and be able to afford rent without issue.
That’s the difference. 90k gets you a better house than I have in NC. Same amount up here won’t get you anything but a beat to shit trailer. But speaking of trailers, 20k will get you a nice trailer with no lot fees. Meaning if I were to do that, give half of the sale of the house to my tenants (which I planned on doing anyway) I’d be able to live comfortably for 3 years not doing shit and buying a nice car, and I mean nice as in a Hellcat, for 30 grand. That was 80k up here. Food prices, utility prices, and damn near everything is cheaper in the south.
And to the people living down there that think anyone moving from other states are going to try to get your laws changed, that’s not what I’m going to even think of doing. I want your laws to be loosened. I love the fact that the cops down there actually do their jobs rather than sitting just off road waiting for someone to go past them 2 mph over the speed limit. Which is what cops do up here. I was going to run for governor, but it’s just not worth it up here. The people up here were only upset about the new gun control laws if they lived outside of the one population center for VT. If I became governor of NC then my policies would be likely to get support from a shitload more people.
That fact alone says I should get the fuck out of here. Everything else I mentioned are really just bonuses. Living somewhere that nobody else knows you outside of a few people is also a bonus. Hell, the only thing that’s going to stick out about me is the fact that I don’t have the same accent. I’ve got a rural Vermont accent. Just for reference, we call soft serve ice cream “creemees” and the cadence is basically a northeastern accent with some vaguely southern drawl mixed in. You wouldn’t be able to tell from a quick sentence because it’s only with certain words. We also use ain’t and y’all in common conversation. In their proper places. Such as “Y’all ain’t doing this right” or “you all aren’t doing this right” for those of you not familiar with the prior conjunctions.
Like, I genuinely believe that in conversation I could fit in well there. With legal and financial thought, I could also easily fit in. The only part that would need some adjustment time would be the actual culture and the heat. But as I said earlier, that’s something I have been able to adjust to before in a short period.
Even moving from upstate NY to VT was a culture change, admittedly not a massive one until I moved to rural VT, that was a pretty massive change. And with me looking to move my way into southern rural life or suburban, that won’t be the case as much. One of the first friends I made up in rural Vermont was a guy from Louisiana who moved up here to take care of his mother. We met, talked a bit, had a smoke and by the end of that we were friends. I’m a social chameleon. That even goes back to high school, I was one of the nerds, when I started playing football I was able to blend in with those kids. Still mostly hung out with the nerds, but had the option to hang out with the popular kids and jocks.
The only things that would make me look out of place are my only visible tattoo on my leg, that of my old order, and the fact that I can speak French.
Anyway, that’s my thoughts on where I plan to move and why I plan to do it.
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Megamind Modern Cowboy AU (Part 1)
@all-these-trees-stealing-mah-o2 cheers for the motivation I did the thing:
NOTE: It was heavily inspired off of a post by the aforementioned person and in the film, it sounds like Megamind is called “Lee”, so I used it as his name. I also found out cowboys still exist in America so there’s that too.
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Usually, it was said that the city was more predictable than the country.
So when Warden John Taylor heard a loud crash coming from the prison courtyard one Christmas morning, he was perplexed. Three prisoners huddled around the foreign object, gawking at whatever was inside.
He expected it to be a bomb, or some failed attempt to smuggle contraband into the prison by some gang member who still had contacts on the outside. Most unexpectedly, though, it turned out to be a rather frightened, and equally confused baby. The shock made him see past the infant’s cerulean blue skin, wide emerald eyes and abnormally large head almost immediately. Why would a child end up here of all places? Not even his brother Shaun, a prison guard, could believe his eyes. Both of them thought they had seen everything down where they grew up in Louisiana, but they were wrong, it so seemed.
The blue infant had a fish, which looked unnervingly like a piranha. Any hand going towards the infant was met with a stern, toothy glare. There was also some sort of pacifier, which glowed with hues of electric blue. John thought it might have been toxic, the way it was glowing, but the infant seemed unharmed when they had it.
Speaking of unharmed, the kid hadn’t managed to come here without a few bruises, much to both John and Shaun’s anger. The infant couldn’t have been more than just a week old, but despite the fact the child appeared bright and well, both feared that they may have suffered some brain damage on their journey here. A long wait in the prison infirmary negated these worries, as well as giving new ones. The infant, (now confirmed to be male), had a strong immune system to the most bizarre of diseases Earth could offer. The more common ones, however, did serious harm. One dose of the common cold wiped him out, leaving John unsure if the kid would even make it to a year old. Luckily, it appeared he would.
Sure enough, John adopted the infant and was very quick to let Shaun know of his new position, which was now Uncle Shaun. The infant, now named Lee, began to grow up into a happy (though not very tall) young boy. For the first four years of his life, he went between staying in the prison and traveling down to the family ranch in Louisiana. John saw it fit that he could grow up alongside the rest of the family, and adopted or not, they were quick to like him. Grandma and Grandpa Taylor were happy to have another grandchild to spoil with treats, and Rodney, his cousin, became his best friend (second to Minion, of course).
There were times where Rodney and Lee could pick up an ice pop, run into the valley and now return for hours, insisting that they were playing cowboys and that they had to go and hunt the thieves. Brandishing their ice pop packets and folding the top, claiming they were ‘guns’. They would dash through the marshes, squealing and laughing as they hid behind trees, clamber up hills, and even go far enough to pet some of the cattle. They would return hours later covered in sweat, boots and their kerchiefs covered in dirt, grinning with traces of sugar around their mouths. They never went very far, only how far their short legs would take them, and Uncle Boe always kept an eye out while they were adventuring.
Lee always began crying when they had to go back to Michigan for the other part of the year.
When they lived at the prison, back in Metro City, John could see that his son was easily influenced by the other prisoners. Most of their “advice” wasn’t too bad, but John didn’t see the need to be telling a young child to hit anyone who got in their face, especially without reason. At least John could be assured that Lee wouldn’t be hurt, given that the prisoners closest to where the kid was were moderately harmless in nature. He didn’t bat an eye when Lee was enrolled in kindergarten the following month and didn’t really think about how the other children would react to his appearance. Not only was he blue, but he had a rather solid Cajun accent, which would be enough to make anyone raise their eyebrows. Now, John himself had that same accent, and he was quite proud of it, but young kids rarely understand how differences work, and this was one of those times they didn’t.
The school was a disaster. Every day John watched his son return to the prison with bruises or cuts, and every dad he came back quieter and quieter. It was odd, really, considering the fact that he had a reputation for being a rowdy child back home. Seeing him barricade himself in his room, without a word to anyone, was incredibly worrying. What was even more worrying, however, was when he returned without the invention he had made that morning, or when a note saying “space-freak cowboy” was taped to his back in what John couldn’t shake looked like the teachers handwriting. Whatever the prisoners had taught him to suddenly came to light, when he was sent home early for punching (or at least trying to) another kid. John was aghast at Lee’s hand because it seemed that his hand had suffered more damage than the other student. The bones were shattered, with multiple breaks and fractures from his wrist to his knuckles. It was almost as if he had punched a brick wall.
The school fiasco went on for four months, with complaints from a parent that Lee was trying to ‘attack’ their child. The complaints only came from one person, and whenever John, or whoever was investigating, asked for proof - the parent never delivered any. They always claimed that it was the ‘emotional’ damage done to her son, who John found out was named Wayne, and not the physical damage, despite teachers reports and the parent originally claiming that Lee had physically attacked him. Whenever John went to speak to his son about this Wayne kid, all he could see was that Lee began to physically tremble, followed by him seething with anger and crying about how horrible Wayne was, but that nobody wanted to see it.
It wasn’t until one day, where Lee set off a blue paint bomb in the school, that John found out everything that had happened. He had been expelled, and through a stream of tears, Lee recited everything that was said and done to him throughout the past number of weeks. This time, it was John, and by extension, Uncle Shaun, who were seething with anger, and remarks that the parents of these monsters of kids were entitled and ignorant. One call back home to the rest of the Taylors sealed it, and a month after his fifth birthday, Lee was told that he, along with Uncle Shaun and his dad, were moving to the Louisiana ranch permanently. John remarked that he had never seen Lee look so eager to go somewhere following going to school, and the sluggish, unwilling attitude that the school had given him had turned into one of excitement. Shaun was worried the kid would fall out of his car seat should he become even more eager.
Once everything was settled, all of Lee’s aunts and uncles were quick to tell him about how he didn’t need to be worried about the ‘dirty rats’ that were the children and teacher of the Lil’ Gifted school, and that the ranch was going to be far more fun. Like Rodney, Lee began to be homeschooled, though his family remarked that they needn’t be bothered given that Lee was exceptional at learning, and could already breeze through physics textbooks intended for college students. This didn’t stop him from teaching Rodney, however, and they would always rush around the ranch afterward. In between the horses, the metalshop, the kitchen, the garage, there weren’t many places where they wouldn’t go.
Rodney, to Lee’s description, looked vaguely similar to Wayne. Though he had more freckles, dotted across his face and arms, and his hair was more wavy and poofy, in comparison to Wayne having rather flat, combed, (“dumb”, as Lee put it) hair. Rodney was two years older than Lee, unlike Wayne only being one year older, and Lee was quick to mention that Rodney was obviously, much cooler and nicer than Wayne could ever be. Rodney took pride in this and said that if he ever saw Wayne, he would deliver him a smack in the face. Lee never mentioned that Wayne was invulnerable, partially because he really did want to see him get slapped across his smug, entitled face, and partially because he didn’t want to bring up what happened to his hand months prior.
As far as Lee was concerned, whatever happened, had happened. It didn’t matter because now he got to stay at the ranch forever and he didn’t have to see his stupid classmates or the loud city or that ugly superman-imitating Wayne again. Still, he missed some of the prison ‘uncles’, and he didn't want to remember how much weight the words that the teacher had said to him held. He wasn’t a monster, nor was he very evil, despite what she insisted. His dad had reassuringly told him that she would lose her ability to teach, and wouldn’t be able to teach anywhere ever again. It had still hurt him, though. Still wounded whatever pride he had. It was the one thing he never mentioned to his dad, even during his outburst. However, that didn’t matter right now. He could do something about that later.
For now, he was going to settle down in front of the (only) television and chow down on the apple pie his grandparents had lovingly made beside Rodney, and watch Tom and Jerry until he could put Minion in his tank, go to his new room and go to bed. As far as he should be concerned, everything was going to be great.
#megamind#megamind fanfic#megamind modern cowboy au#megamind au#cant believe i wrote something#i hope yall like it#cowboy
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❝ the good girl is always a ghost, the body is always a wound. ❞
( katherine mcnamara. 23. she/her. ) we spotted MARIELLA CAULFIELD around toledo today, just another gear in the machine of the apocalypse. i heard she is a MEDIC for CAMP SEROTONIN. i guess it fits, seeing as she is known to be + resilient & + charitable, as well as - impatient & - naïve. they often have fade by lewis capaldi in their head while they work. i wonder if they’re prepared for what’s coming ? ( faye. 22. est. she/her. n/a. )
life as she knew it,
Born to Louise Brodeur and Darby Caulfield in the midst of a very cold winder night in Leavenworth, Washinton, Mariella Caulfield was the product of a unconventional relationship. Despite their new addition, both refused to settle down into an indifferent, loveless marriage and instead agreed they would work to raise their daughter separately. Once she was able to walk she would spend time split equally between Washintong and New Orleans, Louisiana. It was often that her parents fought on what values to instill into her, their core values and expectations never quite lining up.
Her father wanted her to be raised to live life as she pleased, whereas her mother would have preferred she was brought up in a more traditional sense. As a result, Mariella had very different relationships with her parents. To her dad, who she mirrored in more ways than one, she could do no wrong. Her mom on the other hand, she had grown to detest her daughter more and more with every visit. She reminded her too much of her father, a man she loved more than anything to hate.
The friction between she and her mother eventually came to a boiling point at age ten when child protective services were called to their townhouse by a neighbor. The elderly women next door often overheard screaming between the two of them and worried she might be abusing her child. The charges were investigated and eventually dropped, but the memory of being ripped from everything she knew and ( while briefly ) shoved into foster care has always stuck with her. While Louise was technically not guilty of anything, she did very little to prove otherwise once her parental rights were restored.
Even as a young child Mariella was the type who wanted to get out and explore, to meet as many people as possible and learn from them as she went. Being raised by two teachers really set her love for learning into motion. Knowledge above all else was something her childhood was rooted in, and the fever to learn stuck with her well into her time in school. There was no one subject she enjoyed more than the other, but she had a particular penchant for STEM classes. She went through all the changes in potential career growing up; from wanting to be a ballerina, an astronaut, to even considering following in her parents footsteps and becoming a teacher; which is how they met.
On a particularly hot afternoon in the middle of summer, her father began complaining of chest pain and shortness of breath. At first he assured her that it would go away, he would be fine. But as the night persisted and he wasn’t getting any better, she dialed 911 in the hopes that emergency response would make it on time. From the minute she arrived at the hospital she was captivated by the process and found herself asking questions to anyone who would speak to her. Mariella was thirteen then, and everything seemed to have fallen into place. Funny as it was, she found her calling through her father’s heart attack.
It wasn’t until she reached university that she really started experiencing the world for what it was, and she quickly felt like a fish out of water among the masses. As such it was rare you’d find her without at least two books tucked under her arm. Being a medical student took up the majority of her life, the courses work-heavy and requiring immense concentration, but she tried to be as social as she was dedicated to her education. Given she graduated high school at fifteen, the girl pushed herself to mingle with people across the board rather sticking to one fixed set of friends. At her core she believed all people had something more to discover beyond what was shown at face value, thus she made connections wherever she was able.
Graduation from Med school arrived in a whirlwind of emotion, mostly exhaustion and relief. While as happy as she was to be finished with the bulk of her studies and onto the next stage of her impending career, Mariella knew this was one of the last times she’d have to well and truly enjoy being young before fully engulfing herself into the workforce. So, rather than sticking to her typical plan, she decided to celebrate on an impromptu trip to Ireland, setting off with nothing but a quickly packed suitcase and whatever money was left in her bank account.
the start of the outbreak & onward,
September 25th, 2015. Crowded among a group of strangers underneath an airport television, word of the outbreak begins spreading on television. Everyone within the confines of the Louis Armstrong airport in New Orleans were on edge following the story dropping, numerous people began panicking. Rather than feeding into outcry, as nothing around her seemed to be out of the ordinary, she pushed it from her mind as she boarded her connecting flight to Europe. Only, the plane never left the ground.
Ten minutes after their plane finishes boarding, all of the passengers find themselves face-to-face with one of the creatures. Being small and quick on her feet played in her favour as she quickly maneuvered through the plane, narrowly escaping the bloodbath with her life. A good few of them survived the ordeal and decided to stick together, spending the initial night of the outbreak holed up in a supply closet. The group separates the next morning, each hoping to return to their respective families. She, however, blindly decides to make a run for it.
Alone, unarmed, and terrified, she did the best she could for someone in her situation. They—whatever they were—began surrounding the gas station she holed herself up in, making any chance at escape very slim. Convinced she’d die there, whether by starvation or from being attacked when the reinforcements on her door gave way, Mariella began plotting an escape route. She knew very little about the outbreak as it stood, but was observant enough to notice that if they were distracted by a loud noise, she could make her way around without much trouble.
The next week or so is spent coming in and out of abandoned houses and scavenging whatever she can carry. Mostly everything she took was medical supplies, building herself quite the kit should she need to help someone in need. By that point her initial adjustment to the new world went by quite horribly. As time passed she quickly found that the more ‘savage’ way of living was not the one for her.
At first of the mind that the creatures were still people underneath the dirt and decay, Mary refused to kill them. To her, they could still be saved. There would be a cure. There had to be, right? Before she joins a group or finds a solid place to call home, a close encounter with a hoard is what changes her mind. Someone steps in to save her, and she’s felt indebted to them ever since. The near-death experience acted as a wake up call, and from that point on she stopped avoiding the inevitable; to survive, the undead had to be exterminated. The possibility of a cure ( or at the very least a vaccine to help the remaining humans ) still plays in the back of her mind.
The person that rescued her disappeared as quickly as they swooped in to aid her, but she got lucky shortly after and found a few people to travel with. Everyone within her group seemed to be handling the transition with relative ease — whereas she found herself keenly aware that she would not survive long if not for having capable people surrounding her. Though she may not be the greatest in combat or of much use when it comes to scavenging, she knows she’s a valuable asset in other ways, happily putting her medical knowledge to good use.
January 14th, 2016. Catching wind of a camp called Serotonin beginning a slow recruit of people with varying abilities, Mariella is among the first to offer her expertise. Thankfully she’s welcomed with open arms and feels she may have found herself somewhere much more permanent to call home. Trust doesn’t come so easily in their new world, though she’d certainly lay her life on the line if it came to down to protecting her people. Any people, actually, because prioritizing human life above all else is her number one goal. When she’s not tending to the ill or injured, the young woman proudly acts as a morale boost, doing whatever she can to keep everyone around her going. Where most people have seemingly given up hope on there ever being a way out, let alone a real chance of survival to the end, she remains fixed in her belief that there are better days ahead of them.
misc,
Basically, she’s kind, gentle, soft, dedicated, passionate, thoughtful, stubborn.
She’s a certified Mom Friend™ and proud of it.
Would literally go to any length necessary if it means keeping those she cares about safe. She honestly just wants to save people in general !!!
She tends to see the best in people, even those who don’t deserve a moment of her time, and tbh, she’s not to be trusted when it comes to making allies; she’s liable to take in the wrong people and get herself killed.
She’s not helpless, she can get things done when needed, but she can’t fully defend herself. Aka, she ABSOLUTELY needs training.
wanted connections,
I’m not very picky, I’d love any and everything under the sun, but here are a few potential ideas:
Maybe someone she met travelling between baton rouge and the reservoir, who helped keep her alive and she aided them medically
Friends and/or a close/best friend
A good influence, someone who brings out the less tense, more relaxed version of herself
Maybe an ex or a past fling??? idk
Someone to help train her!! homegirl really needs to learn how to use a gun and fight (honestly, bc Kat has good content from Shadowhunters and Arrow and I rly want to use it)
People outside of her camp that she helps, bc honestly she wouldn’t be able to resist doing whatever she can to aid people, especially helping a rouge if they came to her
idk just pls gimmie all the connections/plots AhH!
#toxinintro#temp about tag.#feel free to skim it's a literal bio kjsfbkjbk omg#pls lmk if you wanna plot
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s and s insurance riverdale ga
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new york city renters insurance
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New Orleans: mapping it out.
In some ways, New Orleans is exactly what I thought it would be- but more concentrated than I anticipated. It is so dense with happenings. I imagine it would be a lot/anxiety inducing for the type of tourist that makes up a long list of “must-dos” that they are determined to fit all in one day. I think New Orleans & get along is because I’ve always been a happy wanderer. No one is in a rush here, ever. In fact, it seems the more punctual/timely/quick you try to be about things, the slower you will be met.
The wandering is definitely something that runs in my family. We are like golden retrievers (in fact, we actually have one named Harley, who is also much the same). We are constantly in need of lonnnnng winding walks, or else prone to unspecific sadness. Most people don’t quite have the patience for the marathon-like walks my sisters and I go on (which is another reason I’m so happy to have them as close neighbours). Anyways, in travelling alone, I’ve been able to walk as much as I wish. And I do. Until it practically feels like my legs are going to fall off. New Orleans is really the perfect city for it too- flat, easy to navigate & small enough in sprawl. (I should note though, with it being a very old city, the trees have begun to fully revolt against their concrete prisons & so anyone with mobility issues may struggle in many of these areas). The past few days I’ve wandered through a big chunk of New Orleans, so I’ll break it down in areas.
The 7th Ward:
Definitely a more “sketchy” area, slightly north of the Marginy and where I happen to be staying. As gentrification spreads, this is the next area to be consumed. Walking distance (ten/fifteen) to the French Quarter. Wouldn’t exactly wander around this area alone, as a young woman, but if you are confident enough & know where you are going, you’ll be fine.
Bywater & Marigny & St. Claude:
Two different neighbourhoods edging the 7th ward to the south & the south-east respectively. These neighbourhoods are populated by artists, musicians & other rag-tag dreamers. The houses are colourful, some works of art in their own right. At one point in history, this was apparently a distinctly Creole area. There is definitely an “in-crowd” kind of feel to it- but if you can get in with the the crowd, it hosts all kinds of strange & wonderful DIY-style events. Definitively a “northend” of Halifax, or Leslieville of Toronto kind of feel to it, but distinctly older & much more established than either of those two places (At least Marigny is, Bywater is still in the midst of gentrifying). Marigny is definitely walking distance from the French quarter, running right down the boarder (Frenchman street- which also happens to be where all the best Jazz bars are).
The French Market:
I guess this is technically in the French Quarter, but it’s kinda it’s own thing too. This market for sure Caters largely to tourists- with booths filled with masks & keychains & Crocodile heads (and claws on keychains!), but there are also really awesome unique handcrafted items as well. This is a pretty big- farmer market style event- definitely more of a weekend thing too. (And if you were to go to the French market on the weekend, I’d recommend going to the Frenchman street craft markets too. Confusing, I know, but they are two separate things, that would be equally good to check out). There were a few booths selling soaps & scents, etc. Sculpture work in Stone & wood & tin. Loads of jewlery. There is also a really good opportunity for food- especially if you like seafood & have been wanting to indulge in some Cajun cooking. At the far end (walking away from Frenchman) is the Cafe du Monde- which has some of the most killer beignets. Seriously, I’m already thinking about going back there tomorrow again & I was just there today. (Bonus tip: if the weather is good, take the Beignets to-go and eat them overlooking the Mississippi or Jackson square, which is like steps away. The Cafe can get over-crowded and a little overwhelming at the best of times. It should be noted, I was having weird feelings about the french market while I was there, and I did rather enjoy it. The weird feelings stemming from the fact that it was in these markets that Slaves were bought and sold. Like mega-ultra-big time. New Orleans wasn’t only the biggest slave port in America, it was the biggest slave port in the entire world. That being, I was having a hard time engaging in the space as casually as one might want to enjoying Beignets under the sun.
Garden District:
HOITY_TOITYVILLE, USA. Honestly, by far the fanciest neighbourhood I’ve ever been to. Halifax has maybe one street that may come somewhere near it- but only one! And this is a whole neighbourhood!! Technically two if you count the lower garden district!! It’s insane. Historically, these houses were established after the Louisiana purchase (in which France sold the territory to the Americans). Wealthy Americans moved into the area and built their excessive mini-castles, and there they’ve been since. Seriously. This is the type of old-money area that it wouldn’t even surprise me if the house had been in the same family all those years. I tried to compartmentalize & just enjoy it for what it was, but I was so distracted by my brain shouting “What the fuck do these people do with their lives to afford this kind of excess.” I decided, a good chunk of them must be super-villains, and my brain calmed down enough with that for me to be able to engage objectively again. This place smells like flowers. All the time it seems. If you peep through the fancy-fences, there are some great gardens to be seen too. The houses are Antebellum in style & absolutely sprawling. The trees are huge & swoop over head. Many of them are busting at the brickwork & sidewalk, in a kind of beautifully rebellious way. The Lafayette Cemetery is nestled in this area too- but these days, you need a tour guide to go in most of the cemeteries.
Magazine street:
It’s not really fair to say that Magazine street really belongs in one area- It’s a really long street that changes faces many times. Throughout, however, it remains a vital artery for the city & has restaurants, cafes & retail spots all along the way. The section I found most interesting (especially if you happen to have money to burn) is the section that runs through the Garden district. I didn’t eat there (cause I don’t have that kind of money to burn.) There are lots of cool shops along this stip. Definitely some of the same type of things you’d find in the quarter- like tattoo parlours & palm readers & witchy things, but not as in-your-face about it. Lil’ bougier, but definitely worth a stroll if you are in the area.
It is also notable that in mid-town, just west of the french quarter, Magazine also hosts a few of the bigger museums- Including the Ogden museum of Southern Art which was my favourite thus far.
Canal Street:
Canal street is another vital artery that runs across (okay, about halfway) through the city. Many of the theatres are along this street- so if you were ever to see a bigger show, i’d probably be along here. Blood Orange is playing on February 19th. trying not to let that one tempt me too much.... but it makes me wanna come back.
Gentilly:
Okay, I’ll be honest, the only reason I went to this area was because I needed to get an American SIM card at Walmart. But I’m kind of a “When in Rome” kinda person, so I took some time to get a good ol’ wander in. This is more of a suburban area- but being so, was so distinctly nuclear-family American. I was kinda walking around observing everything as if I were an anthropologist. It’s in this area, that I truly learned about how loose Louisianan liquor laws are- and I’ll tell you, they are scary loose. Like drive-through Daiquari- bar loose. Asa was telling me, that because of that, there are actually specific laws now that say the Daiquiri can be in the cup holder, but the straw must be tilted away from the driver... cause you know, thats the least you can do, right? In the grocery stores, the rum is literally next to the coke. Also- throughout the city you are welcome to carry open liquor- as long as it isn’t in a glass container. Anyways, if you find yourself in Gentilly Woods, the Baptist Seminary College happens to have a really beautiful campus.
French Quarter aka Vieux Carre:
Honestly, everything you’ve heard about the French Quarter is true. It’s pretty freaking great. Yeah sure, it’s the tourist area, but it’s so interesting and full of all the best activities. The architecture of this area is also very distinct from the rest of the city. It’s one of the big legacies of what used to be the spanish colony of “Luisiana”, before the French gained control of it. Anyways, between the Palms & the buildings, you could easily imagine you were in Cuba or Haiti or something, not america. The vintage/antique stores (all more so in the east end of the Quarter) are some of the best ones I’ve ever been to. On a good day, the streets smell like Candied Pralines. The house buildings now host many boutiques and galleries. My favourite part about the area tho, is that there are witchy things all over- Bottom of the cup tea house (est.1929), Madame Laveau’s (east end of Bourbon), Hexes, & all kinds of other stores & booths that will do tarot, palmistry or tea leaves. For jazz- the best spots are all along Frenchman street in the east. The spotted cat was my favourite, but Snug Harbour & the Blue nile also had great music spilling out of them every time I walked by.
I should mention Bourbon street I guess too, it’s the biggest bar scene for sure. So much more hoaky- neon lights- the whole 9. I mean, New Orleans is a fanatastic city to party in. Seeing how I’m not having that kind of trip, I’ve pretty successfuly avoided the most intense part of Bourbon street.
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Tiny chibi people~ .D. I decided to finally make a little family tree for Edgar. Mostly because I got sick of people asking me how he had Moses for a cousin. Quite frankly it should be self explanatory but apparently not. Presented at the age their kids are in the present storyline so forgive them bangin’ 70s fashions on Alma and Jacques.
Forgive any typos this is a loooong fuckin’ read.
SO HERE WE GO.
Mack and Aoibheann (pronounced av-een because Irish is ridiculous) Benoit: Mack is French/Irish and Aoibheann is purely Irish. They were white supremacists and lived boring, hateful lives in the ass crack of Louisiana after immigrating to the United States so we don’t discuss them. They have no baring on the story and died of old age having been kept alive mainly by their spite for the world and each other.
Claire Benoit and Anne Marie Crocker (formerly Benoit): Claire and Anne Marie were identical twins, born and raised on the outskirts of the Honey Island Swamp in Louisiana. While their parents are two of the nastiest people one could meet their daughters tend to be more open to new experiences, largely because they use every advantage presented to avoid going home. Both Claire and Anne Marie spent their childhood roaming the swamps and hitching rides to the French Quarter in New Orleans. Anne Marie considered herself an Atheist while Claire got involved in ‘voodoo culture’ after meeting her future husband. They’re both stanch believers in the Honey Island Swamp monster and claimed to have seen in several times as children. Anne Marie was the less social of the pair, preferring to keep to herself while Claire would go to Jazz clubs and talk to just about anyone willing to have a conversation. Anne Marie passed away in a house fire along with her husband.
Micheal Crocker: Michael was a member of the Mississippi Band of Choctaw. He was a skilled carpenter and spent a lot of time dedicating himself to his work, living with his two dogs in Pearl River, Louisiana and rarely making friends. He and Anne Marie met on a bus to New Orleans when they were both in their early twenties and eloped two years later out of state. He lived in Pearl River with his wife and daughter for seven more years until his death by house fire.
Bertrand Pitch: Bertrand Pitch was a young cook in New Orleans who spent most of his life working in the kitchens of the French Quarter restaurants. He was an incredible hard working man whose family practiced a variety of voodoo and hoodoo throughout his life, a faith that he maintained and practiced regularly. He and Claire met in their teens while she was hitchhiking and the same man -Bertrand’s boss at the time- picked them both up. Claire was kicked out of her home for their eventually relationship but was welcomed into Bertrand’s own home (though reluctantly) by his parents. They had three children by their thirties and would later adopt his niece Raven following the death of her parents, moving to Honey Island Swamp with his wife the following year upon the death of the Benoit parents. While he and Claire were never legally allowed to formally, marry their kids were all registered under the surname ‘Pitch,’ Raven even changing her own surname following Bertrand’s death. He died in a motor vehicle homicide shortly after his eldest son, Jacques, left for college in Baton Rouge. He was a loving father who passed on his faith and skills to his children, adopted and genetic.
Alma Pitch: Bertrand and Claire’s first child, Alma often feels pressured to act tough and take care of everyone around her. Truthfully, she’s the most sensitive of their children and easily overwhelmed, she’s just better at hiding it. She went to college for Entomology and works full time at the Audubon Butterfly Garden and Insectarium. In her twenties she adopted her girlfriend’s infant daughter after she lost a battle with breast cancer.
Jacques LaCroix (Formerly Pitch): Bertrand and Claire’s second child and first born son. Jacques is very much like his father, a gigantic softie who relies on his faith to give him strength. He’s the first person to make a joke in any given situation and the last person to demand silence. He is a civil rights activist in New Orleans and teaches history in Benjamin Franklin High School. He met his wife, Palita, when he was working as a substitute teacher for a class teaching Haitian history. He took his wife’s surname.
Buford Pitch: The youngest of the biological Pitch children, Buford was always the ‘baby’ of the family. He’s extremely shy in most situations and his mother will often claim he got her sister’s ‘antisocial gene’ somehow. He rents land from his mother where he lives in a ‘Tiny House.’ His greatest passion is studying wet lands and he and his mother have had a fair share of arguments about whether or not a ‘humanoid primate’ could even live in the Honey Island Swamp. He is the only family member who maintained their father’s love of cooking.
Palita Beatrice LaCroix: Palita is the daughter of a Haitian man and Brazilian woman and was born in Panama before her family eventually made their way to the states. Incredible quick witted and intelligent, she is the first person to start a discussion and usually the same person who finishes is. She is the head of a small family of Priestesses who practice strictly Haitian Vodou, something she and her husband often have long, casual discussions on, much to their son’s chagrin. She’s extremely supportive of her only son, Moses, and his artistic endeavors, even having him tattoo a Hispaniolan Trogan on her shoulder the first day his shop opened.
Raven Rose Pitch-Galilie: Claire’s niece and adopted daughter, Raven spent the first seven years of her life with her biological parents until a house fire caused by a radiator explosion claimed both their lives. She was adopted by her aunt and lived in the Honey Island Swamp area until she met Seth Gailie and became pregnant at eighteen. Following this she moved with him to Narragansett, RI. Vivacious and clever with a love of Jazz and musical theater, Raven had always enjoyed the nightlife of New Orleans, the throngs of tourists and strange happenings. She’d often claim to have encountered ghosts and spirits, much to her brother Buford’s condemnations and her adopted father’s amusement. Not long after her first son’s own seventh birthday her husband moved her into a mansion in Newport, RI, closer to his work, that was supposed to be her dream home. Sadly, it was close to a nightmare for her and Edgar, as the original owner of the house had been brutally murdered and hidden inside, becoming a vengeful and cruel spirit who lashed out as anyone who tried to maintain ownership of the place, trapping numerous souls inside the building to feed off of and manipulate. Raven was the only one who believed her son about the visions he’d seen within the walls of the home and insisted on leaving. The result was the spirit attacking her, causing permanent brain damage that left her unable to defend her family. She spent more than a decade locked in the same room of the house or paraded about the home as a puppet before she finally took an axe to her husband and threw herself from the Widow’s Walk to her death. Her soul remained trapped with the other’s until the house was burned to the ground. She became deeply enamored with Edgar Allan Poe’s work after her parent’s death, finding solstice in the concept of devotion transcending death. She worked as a music tutor prior to moving and taught her son to play guitar.
Seth Alesio Galilie: Seth was the wealthy son of an Italian and French immigrant couple in New York city but in spite of his wealth managed to be an extremely hard working young man throughout his teens. At nineteen he decided to take a break before college and travel the United States by motorcycle, eventually stopping in New Orleans and meeting Raven Pitch while she was working as a ticket taker at a theater in New Orleans. The pair spent the remaining month together which resulted in the unplanned conception of their first child Lenore. While he intended to return to New York with Raven and start a ‘real family,’ his parents were horrified by his ‘lack of rational thought’ and disowned him, his mother leaving him their summer house and some ‘start up funds,’ but ultimately cutting him off. Seth’s own work ethic kept him family afloat and his charisma would eventually earn him points with those working on the Navy Base with him in Newport. By the time his second child was seven he’d managed to gain footing in a weapons company that worked with the US government and finally bought a mansion in Newport like his wife had dreamed of since moving to the area. Sadly, she and his son both found the place emotionally and spiritually draining, claiming it was filled with negative, even vicious spirits. As Seth had never believed in the supernatural he ignored these claims and demanded they see things rationally as this was the biggest investment he’d ever made. The spirits in the home took full advantage of the man’s desires and stubborn attitude, warping him to their desires, making him obsessed with repairing and maintaining the home, to the point he became belligerent and often drank to cope. When his wife became injured he blamed his son and, rather than keep the now disabled woman at the hospital, took her home and kept her locked in one of the upstairs bedroom. He was easily fooled whenever the house gained control of his wife, something that resulted in her third pregnancy. In the hospital she was able to escape the homes influence over her body briefly, informing her husband the only suitable names for these children was ‘Norman Bates and Hannibal Lecter.’ In a fit of spite towards her, he actually put those names on the birth certificates. He ultimately let his oldest child take both boys with her to California when she moved out to be with her fiance. He was killed by Raven repeatedly driving the blade of an axe through his face. He remained trapped as a spirit in the house until it was burned to the ground. His favorite band was Three Dog Night.
Lenore Atiyeh-Galilie: Lenore was the first Galilie child and only girl and was raised in Narragansett until she was sixteen and her younger brother was seven. Very intelligent and patient, Lenore excelled in school and lacked her father’s stubbornness along with her mother’s ‘dreaminess,’ preferring to kept herself grounded in reality but open to other people’s point of view, especially her younger brother who often claimed to see things she could not. Even still, upon the move to Newport she became very uncomfortable around her family, believing it was not ghosts but her mother’s mental state and her father’s drinking that was causing problems, withdrawing from her brother’s company more and more as the boy would try and claim it was the house. She spent most of her teen years at one friend’s house after another until she moved in with her long term boyfriend, Kiro. Shortly after her youngest brothers were born, she and Kiro were given legal custody of them and they moved together to California, leaving Edgar behind in the family home. Following the death of her parents, Lenore inherited her father’s entire fortune, went to law school and eventually became a District Attorney in LA. She now has a daughter named Annie and lives in Hawaii with her husband who works as a police officer. She and Edgar never fully reconciled their relationship, though she did attend his funeral and oversaw the sale of his home to Moses.
Edgar Allan Galilie: Edgar is the second child and first son of Raven and Seth Gailie and inherited his mother’s deep connection and love for the ‘Otherworldly.’ Unfortunately, it was only his mother who supported this ability and he was often ostracized or accused of outright lies or insanity by his peers, a fact that resulted in him maintaining a spite for most other people throughout his life. At seven he moved with his family from their small, poorly maintained home in Narragansett to a mansion in Newport his mother had loved. He was the first to notice the overall feeling of evil and pain in the house and the first person the spirits within noticed and appeared to. His childhood would become plagued by not only the home’s spectral inhabitants and their capture -the original owner of the home- but by his own family’s descent into dysfunction. He would loss not only his mother’s support, but his sisters, finding himself isolated and trapped in the building that soon learned how easy it was to feed off him, draining him of the will to live and upping that already present teenage angst. While never as bad as his father, he would find himself lashing out, clawing the walls of his bedroom and driving pencils through the wood of his desk, making vain attempts to control the impulsive desires being fed into him by the dozens of souls replaying their own morbid ends or struggling after him trying to find help among the living. At sixteen, he fled the place with only a backpack an his bicycle, not stopping until he could no longer feel the tug of the home’s influence. He managed to get an apartment in a less than savory part of Fall River, MA, and a job working with the family of a on-again-off-again friend from his High School. His parents would be dead by the following year, causing the house to once again fall into disrepair and triggering it to start reaching out for him again is desperation, causing hallucinations and constant fatigue. Desperate to escape, he returned to the building -his only inheritance from his father- and filled the place with gasoline, finally torching it. The relief was almost instantaneous and before he left, several of the grateful spirits within allowed him to find his grandmother’s address in the rubble. He would spend two years learning the practice of Voodoo in New Orleans before returning to Newport to open up a Funeral Home, finding it easy to stay in business when you can speak with the deceased and give them enough energy to change their wills to include your business. During this process he also met a young man named Darion in the process of climbing over the rails of the Mount Hope Bridge, prepared to end it all. He talked Darion down and eventually took him home, teaching him about the dead and the spirit the young man could already see. However, upon finding out Darion’s reason for wanting to end it all was discovering his own brother had been cooking an eating people, Edgar pointed out the only way for that feeling to go away was, most likely, to turn the man in. He even used his spectral friends to help collect evidence of the crimes just for Darion to have a change of heart, not wanting his only brother to die in prison and their parents to find out about his depraved acts. He accidentally strangled Edgar with his own funeral tie when the man wouldn’t simply allow him to leave without an argument, panicking and deciding to make it look like a suicide by stringing him up by his neck from the pipes in the basement. Edgar’s soul remained trapped in his own home for several weeks, giving Darion time to escape, before his body was discovered by one of his neighbors and he was allowed to move on. In a fit of anger, he demanded Baron Samedi give him the ability to get revenge and the Baron, seeing exactly how this would play out, allowed him that. Unfortunately for him, his vengeance was short lived as Darion knew exactly how he would’ve gotten such powers, and called the Baron to defend him, citing the gross misused of power and the fact Edgar couldn’t possibly pay the man back for all the energy he used. Samedi agreed, finding the dispute between both men ‘hilarious.’ In the end, the ‘winner’ was whoever offered the Baron the most as a reward for his power. Edgar had nothing left to give, while Darion had his entire family willing to ‘donate’ for not ratting them out. He won. As a ‘punishment,’ one the Baron planned all along, Edgar was trapped in a mirror realm until he agreed to act as a 'Spiritual Adviser to the Wandering Deceased,’ basically a therapist for the dead to bring lost souls to the afterlife at their own pace. He would refuse until an ally of Darion’s, Jean, would talk him into it, pointing out he was just becoming like the very being that doomed his family in the first place and he’d always liked the dead to begin with. Jean would ultimately contact his cousin Moses and Edgar would return to his home. He now calls himself ‘Edgar LaCroix’ to avoid his family finding out he’s not as dead as they think he is and appears as a living funeral director once more, trying to find some measure of peace. He and Jean attempted to date on and off but, at the end of the day, Edgar already had his heart invested in someone else. Plus, Jean’s closest friend and ally was an even bigger asshole than Darion could hope to be.
Hans Amadeo Galilie: Hans, formerly Hannibal, is the youngest Galilie by two minutes thanks to his twin brother Norman. He’s an incredible stuck up young man. After twenty he moved to Italy, reconnecting with his father’s family there and getting a job as a reporter. He likes to buy lavish gifts for his niece but finds little fulfillment in his family’s company. Upon the death of his older brother he and Norman descended like vultures onto the man’s house, picking through his belongings. He left immediately when he found Edgar had an entire room full of haunted porcelain dolls. He does not believe in ghosts and feels his family just fell apart due to mental illness. His sister changed his name when he was nine and gave him the name Seth intended for him as a middle name.
Norman Salvatore Galilie: Norman is the second youngest Galilie thanks to his twin brother Hans. He’s the most meanspirited and selfish of the siblings, rarely willing to share anything and extremely self important. Norman would eventually go on to take over his father’s position in business, considering himself a self-made-man by his midtwenties even though it was his late father’s influence on the CEO that granted him these advantages. He rarely sees his other family members and has few friends. He was the one accessing the worth of his brother’s possessions upon his death and remained in the house the longest, Moses having to actually throw him out and telling him to ‘respect the dead.’ Norman’s deadpan response was ‘suit yourself, his smell ruined everything in there anyway.’ He dyes his hair brown to further distance himself from his mother and elder brother.
Zadie Evangeline Pitch: Zadie is the only third generation ‘Pitch’ having been adopted by Alma and given the surname following her mother’s death. Gay marriage was still illegal in Louisiana prior to her mother’s death so she considers the name her’s regardless, in homage to their relationship. She’s studying to be a Marine Biologist and while she’s on good terms with her cousins she’s not into ‘the whole voodoo thing’ and prefers to just see them during family parties and the like.
Moses Janjak LaCroix: Moses is a long term Voodoo practitioner and former resident of New Orleans who owns several small tattoo and body mod parlors throughout the city. He was born and raised in New Orleans and learned a wealth of Haitian and American history from his parents who felt he should be as ‘aware of the world’ as possible, while also spiritually educating him on the Ghede and their fellow Lwa families. The Baron considers him direct family and has granted the young man a great deal of skill and favor. Moses is one of the few family members who truly cares for his cousin Edgar, and as such he was one of the first to step in to teach him and all the first to give him an earful for trusting the Baron to let him use his powers for such petty ‘in fighting.’ He’s a very responsibly business man and friend, willingly moving to Newport to oversee his cousin’s behavior and ‘keep him on the straight and narrow.’ Even so, Moses has his own vices and desires, and tends to see much of the world in shades of gray, making him, at times, a bit too forgiving of Edgar’s behavior and decisions. He has ‘Bèl antèman pa vle di paradi’ tattooed on his right leg. His favorite food is fried plantains.
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The Benedict Option Option
After reading an essay by Emma Green in The Atlantic, I resolved to read The Benedict Option, a brand-new book by Rod Dreher published just a few weeks ago. (Readers may be familiar with his 2015 book, How Dante Can Save Your Life, which was very movingly written in the wake of his sister’s untimely death—and which I liked very much—or with his essays for The American Conservative, where he is currently a senior editor and weekly blogger.) Since it’s a book unlikely to land on the night tables of most of the people who read my weekly letters, but more importantly because it inspired me to think about our Jewish world in a new way, I thought I’d use this opportunity to bring the book and its author to your attention and to explain why I found his work so relevant and so personally challenging.
The book is a flawed work in many ways, and not only in terms of the author’s apparent inability to believe that “regular” people (i.e., citizens who are specifically not members of some vast conspiracy devoted to the furtherance of its own secret agenda) could simply believe in marriage equality and in the unambiguous right of gay people to be treated fairly, decently, and equitably in the marketplace and the workplace. That, along with his remarkably harsh view that in vitro fertilization should be outlawed as a version of mass murder no less heinous than abortion itself (the author’s other major bugaboo), would be more than enough to make most of us outside his world want to distance ourselves from the man and from his judgmental, harshly unforgiving worldview. But that would be a mistake, because he has something remarkable to say anyway…and it is something I think we should all feel challenged to consider honestly in terms of our own precarious place in the world.
The basic principle behind The Benedict Option is that the war between traditional Christians and their secularist enemies for America’s future is over and that, because (in the author’s opinion) the good guys lost, American Christians who believe in the principles that underlie their faith—and in the pursuit of a society rooted in its values and its time-honored sense of virtue—should abandon the fantasy that they can influence American social policy at all, and least of all merely by voting for Republican candidates. The author’s estimation of President Trump in this regard is particularly insulting, but what he has to say about the rest of the President’s party is only slightly less disparaging…and the bottom line in both cases is in any event the same: the author believes that the nation has turned decisively and irrevocably away from its Christian roots, the people have abandoned the only kind of Christianity worth preserving (which is, of course, the author’s own), the liberal churches have sold their birthright for a mess of tasteless (in both senses of the word) porridge that can neither sustain nor even really nourish them, and the secular/humanist/pro-LGBT (these are all used as roughly synonymous terms) forces that exist, as far as the author is concerned, in a permanent state of war with the spiritual heritage of “real” Christianity have won the day and will not relinquish their victory easily or, to speak realistically, ever.
It’s a harsh appraisal of our world. And it follows unsurprisingly that the author idolizes the monastic life—and particularly the version of that life connected with the sixth century CE saint, Benedict of Nursia, revered by Christians as the patron saint of Europe and famous both as the founder of a dozen communities for monks in Italy and also as the author of the Rule of Saint Benedict, a work in 73 short chapters about how to live a rich Christian life in retreat from the secular world. Dreher does not, however, think that the real solution to the modern Christian’s problems lies in retreat into secluded monasteries and convents—or at least not for those not personally called to the cloistral life—but rather in a different kind of withdrawal, one that entails a permanent retreat, if not from the entire public square, then at least from those parts of it that make it impossible for the faithful to remain true to their ideals while in it. He takes this idea quite far—strongly recommending that Christians withdraw their children from public schools, that Christians undertake to the greatest extent possible solely to patronize each other’s businesses, that efforts to influence those outside the Church be abandoned while congregations instead work on strengthening their devotion to their own heritage without the risk of pernicious outside influence, that parents severely limit their children’s exposure to television and particularly to the internet, and that, at least ideally, Christians withdraw from the urban nightmare that prevails in America’s godless cities and retreat to smaller towns in out of the way places—just like the author’s home town in rural Louisiana—where the world will just leave them alone and in peace. That, in a nutshell, is the Benedict Option.
From a Jewish point of view, there’s a lot to say. Here and there throughout the book, the author nods to the success of certain communities within the larger world of Jewish Orthodoxy in achieving that kind of separation from the world. And, indeed, we all know of communities in Williamsburg and Crown Heights that function roughly according to Dreher’s plan by avoiding public schools, living in closed communities, doing business solely or at least mostly with each other, denying their children contact with the world via television or the internet, etc. What Rod Dreher would actually make of such communities if he were actually to have to live in one of them for a few months is not hard to imagine. And also amusing is the author’s apparent belief that the specific lifestyle he so admires is how all Orthodox Jews live, not the lifestyle of a mostly marginalized subset within the larger Orthodox community. But those are just details, and the larger, more important challenge laid down at the feet of Jewish readers by The Benedict Option has do with us and our future, not with the author and his or his community’s.
I am not particularly interested in asking how specifically Jewish Americans fit into the author’s plan for the future, although that would surely be an interesting question to hear him attempt to answer without sounding regretful that we even exist in his—our—country. On the other hand, the chances that American Christians are going to embrace the author’s proposal, let alone embrace it holus-bolus and retreat from the world in order to have the time thoughtfully to re-acquaint themselves with the works of the earliest Church fathers are nil. Individuals might well be inspired by reading the works of John Chrysostom, the fourth-century bishop of Constantinople…but we simply do not live in the kind of idea- or principle-driven world in which the author’s idea could conceivably—in my own opinion, at any rate—gain serious traction.
But what does interest me is the kernel of Dreher’s idea: that, instead of endlessly beating their heads against walls they cannot possibly break down, spiritual communities would do better to focus inward and devote themselves to the cultivation of their own gardens. In some ways, we have led the way in doing just that: although I’d be hard pressed to find a way to describe the inclusion of Christmas on the list of federal holidays as anything other than an egregious offense against the separation of church and state, most of us have long since stopped caring or worrying about it. The same could be said of the off-putting presence of Christmas trees in federal post offices and in countless other governmental venues, but we certainly haven’t followed through with the other part of the equation, the part that calls upon us not solely to ignore that which we cannot alter, but also to turn within and work at fostering the kind of Jewish community that would thrive within its own boundaries precisely because it would derive its energy from its own inner life and not by campaigning endlessly for the approval of others.
Like Rod Dreher and the people for whom he’s written his book, we too are not called to the cloistral life. And, indeed, the idea of securing a Jewish future by retreating into closed communities in out-of-the-way hamlets (like Kiryas Yoel, for example, except seriously more remote) would interest almost none of us. But what does appeal to me is seeking the Jewish future not by endlessly campaigning for the approval of the world, but by strengthening the community from within.
In other words, the Jewish version of the Benedict option would have us giving up the endless moaning and groaning about our numbers—and, even more to the point, our ability to manipulate those numbers to get the world’s attention—and instead turning our attention to the propagation of a kind of Jewishness that was once basic and ordinary…and which has, in our day, become—to say the very least—rare. Most of my readers will never have heard of John Chrysostom (just for the record, one of the originators of literary anti-Semitism)…but neither will they have heard of Bahya ibn Pakuda or Joseph Albo, just to name two of our greatest and most profound authors and thinkers almost completely forgotten by “regular” Jewish people outside the world of academe.
The most basic skills of Jewish life—being able to participate easily in Jewish worship, for example, or having enough Hebrew to read and understand basic classical texts…or even to follow along in a Ḥumash when the Torah is read aloud in synagogue—skills that were once the bread-and-butter abilities of any educated Jewish soul have become the province of the especially trained. Nor is this a problem merely of the masses: we have acknowledged leaders in our communities who have more or less no familiarity with the classic works of Jewish literature, no visible allegiance to Jewish ritual, no knowledge of Hebrew…and who don’t seem to feel even slightly burdened by their own ignorance. More to the point, perhaps, we have undercut out own ability to be in awe of our own culture heroes by tolerating a Jewish world in which those heroes are not only not revered in Jewish circles but are almost entirely unknown, their very names familiar to almost none.
If Dreher is right about his world, could he also be right about ours? Could the future of Jewish life in America end up having solely to do with our ability to create a kind of Jewish cultural milieu so rich with meaning, so suggestive of spiritual possibility, and so endlessly alluring both intellectually and emotionally that by ignoring our numbers we paradoxically end up increasing them? Dreher laments the degree to which the most foundational classic works of Christian theology and spirituality are largely ignored even by people who self-define as enthusiastic Christians. The same could surely be said of the Jewish community, but what I took from Dreher’s book is the thought—the siren, endlessly alluring thought—that it doesn’t have to be that way…and that the way forward could well be the way backward, the way out could well be the way in, and the way to grow could surely be, at least in the long run, not to care particularly if we grow at all. Now that would be an innovative approach to the endless questions we never tire of asking about our future but that none of us seems able cogently and convincingly to answer!
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Making Gyms Safer: Why the Virus Is Less Likely to Spread There Than in a Bar
After shutting down in the spring, America’s empty gyms are beckoning a cautious public back for a workout. To reassure wary customers, owners have put in place — and now advertise — a variety of coronavirus control measures. At the same time, the fitness industry is trying to rehabilitate itself by pushing back against what it sees as a misleading narrative that gyms have no place during a pandemic.
In the first months of the coronavirus outbreak, most public health leaders advised closing gyms, erring on the side of caution. As infections exploded across the country, states ordered gyms and fitness centers closed, along with restaurants, movie theaters and bars. State and local officials consistently branded gyms as high-risk venues for infection, akin to bars and nightclubs.
In early August, New York Gov. Andrew Cuomo called gym-going a “dangerous activity,” saying he would keep them shut — only to announce later in the month that most gyms could reopen in September at a third of the capacity and under tight regulations.
New York, New Jersey and North Carolina were among the last state holdouts — only recently allowing fitness facilities to reopen. Many states continue to limit capacity and have instituted new requirements.
The benefits of gyms are clear. Regular exercise staves off depression and improves sleep, and staying fit may be a way to avoid a serious case of COVID-19. But there are clear risks, too: Lots of people moving around indoors, sharing equipment and air, and breathing heavily could be a recipe for easy viral spread. There are scattered reports of coronavirus cases traced back to specific gyms. But gym owners say those are outliers and argue the dominant portrayal overemphasizes potential dangers and ignores their brief but successful track record of safety during the pandemic.
A Seattle gym struggles to comply with new rules and survive
At NW Fitness in Seattle, everything from a set of squats to a run on the treadmill requires a mask. Every other cardio machine is off-limits. The owners have marked up the floor with blue tape to show where each person can work out.
Esmery Corniel, a member, has resumed his workout routine with the punching bag.
“I was honestly just losing my mind,” said Corniel, 27. He said he feels comfortable in the gym with its new safety protocols.
“Everybody wears their mask, everybody socially distances, so it’s no problem here at all,” Corniel said.
There’s no longer the usual morning “rush” of people working out before heading to their jobs.
Under Washington state’s coronavirus rules, only about 10 to 12 people at a time are permitted in this 4,000-square-foot gym.
“It’s drastically reduced our ability to serve our community,” said John Carrico. He and his wife, Jessica, purchased NW Fitness at the end of last year.
Meanwhile, the cost of running the businesses has gone up dramatically. The gym now needs to be staffed round-the-clock to keep up with the frequent cleaning requirements, and to ensure people are wearing masks and following the rules.
Keeping the gym open 24/7 — previously a big selling point for members — is no longer feasible. In the past three months, they’ve lost more than a third of their membership.
“If the trend continues, we won’t be able to stay open,” said Jessica Carrico, who also works as a nurse at a homeless shelter run by Harborview Medical Center.
Given her medical background, Jessica Carrico was initially inclined to trust the public health authorities who ordered all gyms to shut down, but gradually her feelings changed.
“Driving around the city, I’d still see lines outside of pot shops and Baskin-Robbins,” she said. “The arbitrary decision that had been made was very clear, and it became really frustrating.”
Even after gyms in the Seattle area were allowed to reopen, their frustrations continued — especially with the strict cap on operating capacity. The Carricos believe that falls hardest on smaller gyms that don’t have much square footage.
“People want this space to be safe, and will self-regulate,” said John Carrico. He believes he could responsibly operate with twice as many people inside as currently allowed. Public health officials have mischaracterized gyms, he added, and underestimated their potential to operate safely.
“There’s this fear-based propaganda that gyms are a cesspool of coronavirus, which is just super not true,” Carrico said.
Gyms seem less risky than bars. But there’s very little research either way
The fitness industry has begun to push back at the pandemic-driven perceptions and prohibitions. “We should not be lumped with bars and restaurants,” said Helen Durkin, an executive vice president for the International Health, Racquet & Sportsclub Association (IHRSA).
John Carrico called the comparison with bars particularly unfair. “It’s almost laughable. I mean, it’s almost the exact opposite. … People here are investing in their health. They’re coming in, they’re focusing on what they’re trying to do as far as their workout. They’re not socializing, they’re not sitting at a table and laughing and drinking.”
Since the pandemic began, many gyms have overhauled operations and now look very different: Locker rooms are often closed and group classes halted. Many gyms check everyone for symptoms upon arrival. They’ve spaced out equipment and begun intensive cleaning regimes.
Gyms have a big advantage over other retail and entertainment venues, Durkin said, because the membership model means those who may have been exposed in an outbreak can be easily contacted.
A company that sells member databases and software to gyms has been compiling data during the pandemic. (The data, drawn from 2,877 gyms, is by no means comprehensive because it relies on gym owners to self-report incidents in which a positive coronavirus case was detected at the gym, or was somehow connected to the gym.) The resultant report said that the overall “visits to virus” ratio of 0.002% is “statistically irrelevant” because only 1,155 cases of coronavirus were reported among more than 49 million gym visits. Similarly, data collected from gyms in the United Kingdom found only 17 cases out of more than 8 million visits in the weeks after gyms reopened there.
Only a few U.S. states have publicly available information on outbreaks linked to the fitness sector, and those states report very few cases. In Louisiana, for example, the state has identified five clusters originating in “gym/fitness settings,” with a total of 31 cases. None of the people died. By contrast, 15 clusters were traced to “religious services/events,” sickening 78, and killing five of them.
“The whole idea that it’s a risky place to be … around the world, we just aren’t seeing those numbers anywhere,” said IHRSA’s Durkin.
A study from South Korea published by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention is often cited as evidence of the inherent hazards of group fitness activities.
The study traced 112 coronavirus infections to a Feb. 15 training workshop for fitness dance instructors. Those instructors went on to teach classes at 12 sports facilities in February and March, transmitting the virus to students in the dance classes, but also to co-workers and family members.
But defenders of the fitness industry point out that the outbreak began before South Korea instituted social distancing measures.
The study authors note that the classes were crowded and the pace of the dance workouts was fast, and conclude that “intense physical exercise in densely populated sports facilities could increase the risk for infection” and “should be minimized during outbreaks.” They also found that no transmission occurred in classes with fewer than five people, or when an infected instructor taught “lower-intensity” classes such as yoga and Pilates.
Public health experts continue to urge gym members to be cautious
It’s clear that there are many things gym owners — and gym members — can do to lower the risk of infection at a gym, but that doesn’t mean the risk is gone. Infectious disease doctors and public health experts caution that gyms should not downplay their potential for spreading disease, especially if the coronavirus is widespread in the surrounding community.
“There are very few [gyms] that can actually implement all the infection control measures,” said Saskia Popescu, an infectious disease epidemiologist in Phoenix. “That’s really the challenge with gyms: There is so much variety that it makes it hard to put them into a single box.”
Popescu and two colleagues developed a COVID-19 risk chart for various activities. Gyms were classified as “medium high,” on par with eating indoors at a restaurant or getting a haircut, but less risky than going to a bar or riding public transit.
Popescu acknowledges there’s not much recent evidence that gyms are major sources of infection, but that should not give people a false sense of assurance.
“The mistake would be to assume that there is no risk,” she said. “It’s just that a lot of the prevention strategies have been working, and when we start to loosen those, though, is where you’re more likely to see clusters occur.”
Any location that brings people together indoors increases the risk of contracting the coronavirus, and breathing heavily adds another element of risk. Interventions such as increasing the distance between cardio machines might help, but tiny infectious airborne particles can travel farther than 6 feet, Popescu said.
The mechanics of exercising also make it hard to ensure people comply with crucial preventive measures like wearing a mask.
“How effective are masks in that setting? Can they really be effectively worn?” asked Dr. Deverick Anderson, director of the Duke Center for Antimicrobial Stewardship and Infection Prevention. “The combination of sweat and exertion is one unique thing about the gym setting.”
“I do think that, in the big picture, gyms would be riskier than restaurants because of the type of activity and potential for interaction there,” Anderson said.
The primary way people could catch the virus at a gym would be coming close to someone who is releasing respiratory droplets and smaller airborne particles, called “aerosols,” when they breathe, talk or cough, said Dr. Dean Blumberg, chief of pediatric infectious diseases at UC Davis Health.
He’s less worried about people catching the virus from touching a barbell or riding a stationary bike that someone else used. That’s because scientists now think “surface” transmission isn’t driving infection as much as airborne droplets and particles.
“I’m not really worried about transmission that way,” Blumberg said. “There’s too much attention being paid to disinfecting surfaces and ‘deep cleaning,’ spraying things in the air. I think a lot of that’s just for show.”
Blumberg said he believes gyms can manage the risks better than many social settings like bars or informal gatherings.
“A gym where you can adequately social distance and you can limit the number of people there and force mask-wearing, that’s one of the safer activities,” he said.
Adapting to the pandemic’s prohibitions doesn’t come cheap
In Bellevue, Washington, PRO Club is an enormous, upscale gym with spacious workout rooms — and an array of medical services such as physical therapy, hormone treatments, skin care and counseling. PRO Club has managed to keep the gym experience relatively normal for members since reopening, according to employee Linda Rackner. “There is plenty of space for everyone. We are seeing about 1,000 people a day and have capacity for almost 3,000,” Rackner said. “We’d love to have more people in the club.”
The gym uses the same air-cleaning units as hospital ICUs, deploys ultraviolet robots to sanitize the rooms and requires temperature checks to enter. “I feel like we have good compliance,” said Dean Rogers, one of the personal trainers. “For the most part, people who come to a gym are in it for their own health, fitness and wellness.”
But Rogers knows this isn’t the norm everywhere. In fact, his own mother back in Oklahoma believes she contracted the coronavirus at her gym.
“I was upset to find out that her gym had no guidelines they were following, no safety precautions,” he said. “There are always going to be some bad actors.”
This story is part of a partnership that includes NPR and Kaiser Health News. Carrie Feibel, an editor for the NPR-KHN reporting partnership, contributed to this story.
Kaiser Health News (KHN) is a national health policy news service. It is an editorially independent program of the Henry J. Kaiser Family Foundation which is not affiliated with Kaiser Permanente.
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This story can be republished for free (details).
Making Gyms Safer: Why the Virus Is Less Likely to Spread There Than in a Bar published first on https://nootropicspowdersupplier.tumblr.com/
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Making Gyms Safer: Why the Virus Is Less Likely to Spread There Than in a Bar
After shutting down in the spring, America’s empty gyms are beckoning a cautious public back for a workout. To reassure wary customers, owners have put in place — and now advertise — a variety of coronavirus control measures. At the same time, the fitness industry is trying to rehabilitate itself by pushing back against what it sees as a misleading narrative that gyms have no place during a pandemic.
In the first months of the coronavirus outbreak, most public health leaders advised closing gyms, erring on the side of caution. As infections exploded across the country, states ordered gyms and fitness centers closed, along with restaurants, movie theaters and bars. State and local officials consistently branded gyms as high-risk venues for infection, akin to bars and nightclubs.
In early August, New York Gov. Andrew Cuomo called gym-going a “dangerous activity,” saying he would keep them shut — only to announce later in the month that most gyms could reopen in September at a third of the capacity and under tight regulations.
New York, New Jersey and North Carolina were among the last state holdouts — only recently allowing fitness facilities to reopen. Many states continue to limit capacity and have instituted new requirements.
The benefits of gyms are clear. Regular exercise staves off depression and improves sleep, and staying fit may be a way to avoid a serious case of COVID-19. But there are clear risks, too: Lots of people moving around indoors, sharing equipment and air, and breathing heavily could be a recipe for easy viral spread. There are scattered reports of coronavirus cases traced back to specific gyms. But gym owners say those are outliers and argue the dominant portrayal overemphasizes potential dangers and ignores their brief but successful track record of safety during the pandemic.
A Seattle gym struggles to comply with new rules and survive
At NW Fitness in Seattle, everything from a set of squats to a run on the treadmill requires a mask. Every other cardio machine is off-limits. The owners have marked up the floor with blue tape to show where each person can work out.
Esmery Corniel, a member, has resumed his workout routine with the punching bag.
“I was honestly just losing my mind,” said Corniel, 27. He said he feels comfortable in the gym with its new safety protocols.
“Everybody wears their mask, everybody socially distances, so it’s no problem here at all,” Corniel said.
There’s no longer the usual morning “rush” of people working out before heading to their jobs.
Under Washington state’s coronavirus rules, only about 10 to 12 people at a time are permitted in this 4,000-square-foot gym.
“It’s drastically reduced our ability to serve our community,” said John Carrico. He and his wife, Jessica, purchased NW Fitness at the end of last year.
Meanwhile, the cost of running the businesses has gone up dramatically. The gym now needs to be staffed round-the-clock to keep up with the frequent cleaning requirements, and to ensure people are wearing masks and following the rules.
Keeping the gym open 24/7 — previously a big selling point for members — is no longer feasible. In the past three months, they’ve lost more than a third of their membership.
“If the trend continues, we won’t be able to stay open,” said Jessica Carrico, who also works as a nurse at a homeless shelter run by Harborview Medical Center.
Given her medical background, Jessica Carrico was initially inclined to trust the public health authorities who ordered all gyms to shut down, but gradually her feelings changed.
“Driving around the city, I’d still see lines outside of pot shops and Baskin-Robbins,” she said. “The arbitrary decision that had been made was very clear, and it became really frustrating.”
Even after gyms in the Seattle area were allowed to reopen, their frustrations continued — especially with the strict cap on operating capacity. The Carricos believe that falls hardest on smaller gyms that don’t have much square footage.
“People want this space to be safe, and will self-regulate,” said John Carrico. He believes he could responsibly operate with twice as many people inside as currently allowed. Public health officials have mischaracterized gyms, he added, and underestimated their potential to operate safely.
“There’s this fear-based propaganda that gyms are a cesspool of coronavirus, which is just super not true,” Carrico said.
Gyms seem less risky than bars. But there’s very little research either way
The fitness industry has begun to push back at the pandemic-driven perceptions and prohibitions. “We should not be lumped with bars and restaurants,” said Helen Durkin, an executive vice president for the International Health, Racquet & Sportsclub Association (IHRSA).
John Carrico called the comparison with bars particularly unfair. “It’s almost laughable. I mean, it’s almost the exact opposite. … People here are investing in their health. They’re coming in, they’re focusing on what they’re trying to do as far as their workout. They’re not socializing, they’re not sitting at a table and laughing and drinking.”
Since the pandemic began, many gyms have overhauled operations and now look very different: Locker rooms are often closed and group classes halted. Many gyms check everyone for symptoms upon arrival. They’ve spaced out equipment and begun intensive cleaning regimes.
Gyms have a big advantage over other retail and entertainment venues, Durkin said, because the membership model means those who may have been exposed in an outbreak can be easily contacted.
A company that sells member databases and software to gyms has been compiling data during the pandemic. (The data, drawn from 2,877 gyms, is by no means comprehensive because it relies on gym owners to self-report incidents in which a positive coronavirus case was detected at the gym, or was somehow connected to the gym.) The resultant report said that the overall “visits to virus” ratio of 0.002% is “statistically irrelevant” because only 1,155 cases of coronavirus were reported among more than 49 million gym visits. Similarly, data collected from gyms in the United Kingdom found only 17 cases out of more than 8 million visits in the weeks after gyms reopened there.
Only a few U.S. states have publicly available information on outbreaks linked to the fitness sector, and those states report very few cases. In Louisiana, for example, the state has identified five clusters originating in “gym/fitness settings,” with a total of 31 cases. None of the people died. By contrast, 15 clusters were traced to “religious services/events,” sickening 78, and killing five of them.
“The whole idea that it’s a risky place to be … around the world, we just aren’t seeing those numbers anywhere,” said IHRSA’s Durkin.
A study from South Korea published by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention is often cited as evidence of the inherent hazards of group fitness activities.
The study traced 112 coronavirus infections to a Feb. 15 training workshop for fitness dance instructors. Those instructors went on to teach classes at 12 sports facilities in February and March, transmitting the virus to students in the dance classes, but also to co-workers and family members.
But defenders of the fitness industry point out that the outbreak began before South Korea instituted social distancing measures.
The study authors note that the classes were crowded and the pace of the dance workouts was fast, and conclude that “intense physical exercise in densely populated sports facilities could increase the risk for infection” and “should be minimized during outbreaks.” They also found that no transmission occurred in classes with fewer than five people, or when an infected instructor taught “lower-intensity” classes such as yoga and Pilates.
Public health experts continue to urge gym members to be cautious
It’s clear that there are many things gym owners — and gym members — can do to lower the risk of infection at a gym, but that doesn’t mean the risk is gone. Infectious disease doctors and public health experts caution that gyms should not downplay their potential for spreading disease, especially if the coronavirus is widespread in the surrounding community.
“There are very few [gyms] that can actually implement all the infection control measures,” said Saskia Popescu, an infectious disease epidemiologist in Phoenix. “That’s really the challenge with gyms: There is so much variety that it makes it hard to put them into a single box.”
Popescu and two colleagues developed a COVID-19 risk chart for various activities. Gyms were classified as “medium high,” on par with eating indoors at a restaurant or getting a haircut, but less risky than going to a bar or riding public transit.
Popescu acknowledges there’s not much recent evidence that gyms are major sources of infection, but that should not give people a false sense of assurance.
“The mistake would be to assume that there is no risk,” she said. “It’s just that a lot of the prevention strategies have been working, and when we start to loosen those, though, is where you’re more likely to see clusters occur.”
Any location that brings people together indoors increases the risk of contracting the coronavirus, and breathing heavily adds another element of risk. Interventions such as increasing the distance between cardio machines might help, but tiny infectious airborne particles can travel farther than 6 feet, Popescu said.
The mechanics of exercising also make it hard to ensure people comply with crucial preventive measures like wearing a mask.
“How effective are masks in that setting? Can they really be effectively worn?” asked Dr. Deverick Anderson, director of the Duke Center for Antimicrobial Stewardship and Infection Prevention. “The combination of sweat and exertion is one unique thing about the gym setting.”
“I do think that, in the big picture, gyms would be riskier than restaurants because of the type of activity and potential for interaction there,” Anderson said.
The primary way people could catch the virus at a gym would be coming close to someone who is releasing respiratory droplets and smaller airborne particles, called “aerosols,” when they breathe, talk or cough, said Dr. Dean Blumberg, chief of pediatric infectious diseases at UC Davis Health.
He’s less worried about people catching the virus from touching a barbell or riding a stationary bike that someone else used. That’s because scientists now think “surface” transmission isn’t driving infection as much as airborne droplets and particles.
“I’m not really worried about transmission that way,” Blumberg said. “There’s too much attention being paid to disinfecting surfaces and ‘deep cleaning,’ spraying things in the air. I think a lot of that’s just for show.”
Blumberg said he believes gyms can manage the risks better than many social settings like bars or informal gatherings.
“A gym where you can adequately social distance and you can limit the number of people there and force mask-wearing, that’s one of the safer activities,” he said.
Adapting to the pandemic’s prohibitions doesn’t come cheap
In Bellevue, Washington, PRO Club is an enormous, upscale gym with spacious workout rooms — and an array of medical services such as physical therapy, hormone treatments, skin care and counseling. PRO Club has managed to keep the gym experience relatively normal for members since reopening, according to employee Linda Rackner. “There is plenty of space for everyone. We are seeing about 1,000 people a day and have capacity for almost 3,000,” Rackner said. “We’d love to have more people in the club.”
The gym uses the same air-cleaning units as hospital ICUs, deploys ultraviolet robots to sanitize the rooms and requires temperature checks to enter. “I feel like we have good compliance,” said Dean Rogers, one of the personal trainers. “For the most part, people who come to a gym are in it for their own health, fitness and wellness.”
But Rogers knows this isn’t the norm everywhere. In fact, his own mother back in Oklahoma believes she contracted the coronavirus at her gym.
“I was upset to find out that her gym had no guidelines they were following, no safety precautions,” he said. “There are always going to be some bad actors.”
This story is part of a partnership that includes NPR and Kaiser Health News. Carrie Feibel, an editor for the NPR-KHN reporting partnership, contributed to this story.
Kaiser Health News (KHN) is a national health policy news service. It is an editorially independent program of the Henry J. Kaiser Family Foundation which is not affiliated with Kaiser Permanente.
USE OUR CONTENT
This story can be republished for free (details).
Making Gyms Safer: Why the Virus Is Less Likely to Spread There Than in a Bar published first on https://smartdrinkingweb.weebly.com/
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Making Gyms Safer: Why the Virus Is Less Likely to Spread There Than in a Bar
After shutting down in the spring, America’s empty gyms are beckoning a cautious public back for a workout. To reassure wary customers, owners have put in place — and now advertise — a variety of coronavirus control measures. At the same time, the fitness industry is trying to rehabilitate itself by pushing back against what it sees as a misleading narrative that gyms have no place during a pandemic.
In the first months of the coronavirus outbreak, most public health leaders advised closing gyms, erring on the side of caution. As infections exploded across the country, states ordered gyms and fitness centers closed, along with restaurants, movie theaters and bars. State and local officials consistently branded gyms as high-risk venues for infection, akin to bars and nightclubs.
In early August, New York Gov. Andrew Cuomo called gym-going a “dangerous activity,” saying he would keep them shut — only to announce later in the month that most gyms could reopen in September at a third of the capacity and under tight regulations.
New York, New Jersey and North Carolina were among the last state holdouts — only recently allowing fitness facilities to reopen. Many states continue to limit capacity and have instituted new requirements.
The benefits of gyms are clear. Regular exercise staves off depression and improves sleep, and staying fit may be a way to avoid a serious case of COVID-19. But there are clear risks, too: Lots of people moving around indoors, sharing equipment and air, and breathing heavily could be a recipe for easy viral spread. There are scattered reports of coronavirus cases traced back to specific gyms. But gym owners say those are outliers and argue the dominant portrayal overemphasizes potential dangers and ignores their brief but successful track record of safety during the pandemic.
A Seattle gym struggles to comply with new rules and survive
At NW Fitness in Seattle, everything from a set of squats to a run on the treadmill requires a mask. Every other cardio machine is off-limits. The owners have marked up the floor with blue tape to show where each person can work out.
Esmery Corniel, a member, has resumed his workout routine with the punching bag.
“I was honestly just losing my mind,” said Corniel, 27. He said he feels comfortable in the gym with its new safety protocols.
“Everybody wears their mask, everybody socially distances, so it’s no problem here at all,” Corniel said.
There’s no longer the usual morning “rush” of people working out before heading to their jobs.
Under Washington state’s coronavirus rules, only about 10 to 12 people at a time are permitted in this 4,000-square-foot gym.
“It’s drastically reduced our ability to serve our community,” said John Carrico. He and his wife, Jessica, purchased NW Fitness at the end of last year.
Meanwhile, the cost of running the businesses has gone up dramatically. The gym now needs to be staffed round-the-clock to keep up with the frequent cleaning requirements, and to ensure people are wearing masks and following the rules.
Keeping the gym open 24/7 — previously a big selling point for members — is no longer feasible. In the past three months, they’ve lost more than a third of their membership.
“If the trend continues, we won’t be able to stay open,” said Jessica Carrico, who also works as a nurse at a homeless shelter run by Harborview Medical Center.
Given her medical background, Jessica Carrico was initially inclined to trust the public health authorities who ordered all gyms to shut down, but gradually her feelings changed.
“Driving around the city, I’d still see lines outside of pot shops and Baskin-Robbins,” she said. “The arbitrary decision that had been made was very clear, and it became really frustrating.”
Even after gyms in the Seattle area were allowed to reopen, their frustrations continued — especially with the strict cap on operating capacity. The Carricos believe that falls hardest on smaller gyms that don’t have much square footage.
“People want this space to be safe, and will self-regulate,” said John Carrico. He believes he could responsibly operate with twice as many people inside as currently allowed. Public health officials have mischaracterized gyms, he added, and underestimated their potential to operate safely.
“There’s this fear-based propaganda that gyms are a cesspool of coronavirus, which is just super not true,” Carrico said.
Gyms seem less risky than bars. But there’s very little research either way
The fitness industry has begun to push back at the pandemic-driven perceptions and prohibitions. “We should not be lumped with bars and restaurants,” said Helen Durkin, an executive vice president for the International Health, Racquet & Sportsclub Association (IHRSA).
John Carrico called the comparison with bars particularly unfair. “It’s almost laughable. I mean, it’s almost the exact opposite. … People here are investing in their health. They’re coming in, they’re focusing on what they’re trying to do as far as their workout. They’re not socializing, they’re not sitting at a table and laughing and drinking.”
Since the pandemic began, many gyms have overhauled operations and now look very different: Locker rooms are often closed and group classes halted. Many gyms check everyone for symptoms upon arrival. They’ve spaced out equipment and begun intensive cleaning regimes.
Gyms have a big advantage over other retail and entertainment venues, Durkin said, because the membership model means those who may have been exposed in an outbreak can be easily contacted.
A company that sells member databases and software to gyms has been compiling data during the pandemic. (The data, drawn from 2,877 gyms, is by no means comprehensive because it relies on gym owners to self-report incidents in which a positive coronavirus case was detected at the gym, or was somehow connected to the gym.) The resultant report said that the overall “visits to virus” ratio of 0.002% is “statistically irrelevant” because only 1,155 cases of coronavirus were reported among more than 49 million gym visits. Similarly, data collected from gyms in the United Kingdom found only 17 cases out of more than 8 million visits in the weeks after gyms reopened there.
Only a few U.S. states have publicly available information on outbreaks linked to the fitness sector, and those states report very few cases. In Louisiana, for example, the state has identified five clusters originating in “gym/fitness settings,” with a total of 31 cases. None of the people died. By contrast, 15 clusters were traced to “religious services/events,” sickening 78, and killing five of them.
“The whole idea that it’s a risky place to be … around the world, we just aren’t seeing those numbers anywhere,” said IHRSA’s Durkin.
A study from South Korea published by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention is often cited as evidence of the inherent hazards of group fitness activities.
The study traced 112 coronavirus infections to a Feb. 15 training workshop for fitness dance instructors. Those instructors went on to teach classes at 12 sports facilities in February and March, transmitting the virus to students in the dance classes, but also to co-workers and family members.
But defenders of the fitness industry point out that the outbreak began before South Korea instituted social distancing measures.
The study authors note that the classes were crowded and the pace of the dance workouts was fast, and conclude that “intense physical exercise in densely populated sports facilities could increase the risk for infection” and “should be minimized during outbreaks.” They also found that no transmission occurred in classes with fewer than five people, or when an infected instructor taught “lower-intensity” classes such as yoga and Pilates.
Public health experts continue to urge gym members to be cautious
It’s clear that there are many things gym owners — and gym members — can do to lower the risk of infection at a gym, but that doesn’t mean the risk is gone. Infectious disease doctors and public health experts caution that gyms should not downplay their potential for spreading disease, especially if the coronavirus is widespread in the surrounding community.
“There are very few [gyms] that can actually implement all the infection control measures,” said Saskia Popescu, an infectious disease epidemiologist in Phoenix. “That’s really the challenge with gyms: There is so much variety that it makes it hard to put them into a single box.”
Popescu and two colleagues developed a COVID-19 risk chart for various activities. Gyms were classified as “medium high,” on par with eating indoors at a restaurant or getting a haircut, but less risky than going to a bar or riding public transit.
Popescu acknowledges there’s not much recent evidence that gyms are major sources of infection, but that should not give people a false sense of assurance.
“The mistake would be to assume that there is no risk,” she said. “It’s just that a lot of the prevention strategies have been working, and when we start to loosen those, though, is where you’re more likely to see clusters occur.”
Any location that brings people together indoors increases the risk of contracting the coronavirus, and breathing heavily adds another element of risk. Interventions such as increasing the distance between cardio machines might help, but tiny infectious airborne particles can travel farther than 6 feet, Popescu said.
The mechanics of exercising also make it hard to ensure people comply with crucial preventive measures like wearing a mask.
“How effective are masks in that setting? Can they really be effectively worn?” asked Dr. Deverick Anderson, director of the Duke Center for Antimicrobial Stewardship and Infection Prevention. “The combination of sweat and exertion is one unique thing about the gym setting.”
“I do think that, in the big picture, gyms would be riskier than restaurants because of the type of activity and potential for interaction there,” Anderson said.
The primary way people could catch the virus at a gym would be coming close to someone who is releasing respiratory droplets and smaller airborne particles, called “aerosols,” when they breathe, talk or cough, said Dr. Dean Blumberg, chief of pediatric infectious diseases at UC Davis Health.
He’s less worried about people catching the virus from touching a barbell or riding a stationary bike that someone else used. That’s because scientists now think “surface” transmission isn’t driving infection as much as airborne droplets and particles.
“I’m not really worried about transmission that way,” Blumberg said. “There’s too much attention being paid to disinfecting surfaces and ‘deep cleaning,’ spraying things in the air. I think a lot of that’s just for show.”
Blumberg said he believes gyms can manage the risks better than many social settings like bars or informal gatherings.
“A gym where you can adequately social distance and you can limit the number of people there and force mask-wearing, that’s one of the safer activities,” he said.
Adapting to the pandemic’s prohibitions doesn’t come cheap
In Bellevue, Washington, PRO Club is an enormous, upscale gym with spacious workout rooms — and an array of medical services such as physical therapy, hormone treatments, skin care and counseling. PRO Club has managed to keep the gym experience relatively normal for members since reopening, according to employee Linda Rackner. “There is plenty of space for everyone. We are seeing about 1,000 people a day and have capacity for almost 3,000,” Rackner said. “We’d love to have more people in the club.”
The gym uses the same air-cleaning units as hospital ICUs, deploys ultraviolet robots to sanitize the rooms and requires temperature checks to enter. “I feel like we have good compliance,” said Dean Rogers, one of the personal trainers. “For the most part, people who come to a gym are in it for their own health, fitness and wellness.”
But Rogers knows this isn’t the norm everywhere. In fact, his own mother back in Oklahoma believes she contracted the coronavirus at her gym.
“I was upset to find out that her gym had no guidelines they were following, no safety precautions,” he said. “There are always going to be some bad actors.”
This story is part of a partnership that includes NPR and Kaiser Health News. Carrie Feibel, an editor for the NPR-KHN reporting partnership, contributed to this story.
Kaiser Health News (KHN) is a national health policy news service. It is an editorially independent program of the Henry J. Kaiser Family Foundation which is not affiliated with Kaiser Permanente.
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The Walls We Build - chapter 1
“I can fake a smile, I can force a laugh, I can dance and play the part”
- Christina Perri
It wasn’t the atmosphere that was unwelcoming as such. Actually, it was quite the opposite, loud laughs echoed off the walls of whose ever apartment this was and music boomed from the speakers in the corner. Even though an unmistakable, thick stench of alcohol hung in the air like fog, he had gotten used to that after a year or two, people danced on in the cramped living room like the sun wasn’t going to rise tomorrow. No, it wasn’t the atmosphere, it was the sheer amount of people, and they were everywhere. The thing was that Darren just really didn’t want to be here, there were too many people who might judge him. Usually, he would have preferred staying back in his dorm room and just enjoy the feeling of not having another person in the room for once, since his roommate Niall was most likely going to be at the party.
In college, it was hard to find a space you didn’t have to share with another person, whether that be a study table in the library or something as simple as a shower. God, he wished he had been one of the lucky bastards who had gotten a single room, never mind the smaller space, it would be heavenly to be able to close his door and have some privacy from the buzzing campus.
Luckily college also had its perks and this being NYU he could easily find someone to take home if he felt so inclined, and he had grabbed the chance on many occasions over the span of time he had been at NYU. He stood leaned against the white walls just outside the dancing masses. Hot bodies writhed against each other, grinding, touching, the music pounding through the floor filling up the room like oxygen as though it was the only thing they needed to survive the night.
His amber eyes scanned the room taking in all the different people, half of them he had never seen before, however, he did recognize a few people he shared a class with. And more people than not were not able to hold their liquor by a long shot, resulting in a rather messy ordeal of spilt drinks on the couch and on other people. Most of these people were probably going to pass out before one o’clock if the state of the flat was any indication to go by. Every space was occupied if not crammed with happy drunks, even the dark corner where Darren was resting against the wall hosted a couple making out passionately. It was practically impossible to escape people, and in New York of all places, sometimes he regretted his decision to apply to NYU’s music program, but it had been the best, except for Julliard of course, but he wasn’t a prodigy or something. Not because the academics they taught weren’t amazing, because they really were extraordinary, he had learned so much and it was only his junior year, but once again it was due to the masses. One would think he had gotten used to the noise level, having gone to an all-boys school, but Berkshire Boarding School in Louisiana had been different. Berkshire had had this sense of strictness to it, in every form of the word. Here, it was chaos in the halls, in the cafeteria, and people were nowhere near quiet in the library.
And even though he had somewhat adapted to the noise level and amount of students and people surrounding him at all waking hours, it didn’t mean that he liked it a whole lot. There was a world of difference in between the busy, never sleeping, dirty streets of the Big Apple and the quiet neighbourhoods with trimmed lawns and rose bushes in Louisiana, and yet, he wasn’t too keen about spending time there either. It was always too quiet in his parents' big house, they had a tendency to be very spontaneous and would sometimes leave to fly off to the Bahamas or some other destination in the middle of Darren visiting. Therefore, he didn’t really go home during the summer anymore. Or Thanksgiving. Or Christmas. The last time he had gone to spend a holiday with his family it had ended in a shouting match between his father and himself for talking about what he wanted in life, a career in music, a boyfriend, and maybe make him his husband some day. That night Darren had left the house in fury.
He hadn’t been back since then, almost two years ago. His father had never really been very accepting of Darren’s sexuality and Darren had known that his coming out had caused an unmendable rift in their bond, but his father had always tried to act civil around his son, especially around other people.
Other people, oh god, there was a lot to say about other people in his life. He had long since accepted that rejection would be a constant part of his life, from people rejecting him because of his sexuality to people rejecting him in spite of it. The first time that had happened, the first time he had gotten his heart broken, he had been so utterly sombre, that he had refused to ever let it happen again. That promise found Darren sleeping around with a bunch of college dudes, but never more than once. It was always easier to just leave the next morning, to throw them a smile, say it had been fun. It was easier to be in control. Control was this thing you could depend on to allow you to organize your life the way you wanted, down to every last detail, down to every last kiss. But it was also a commitment he had made when he had taken the lead, had not allowed himself to listen to his heart, because all listening to his heart had ever gotten him was heartache and a vile taste of regret in his mouth. Sometimes though, he missed the feeling of giving yourself fully and without restraint to another person, and not just for a night, for a lifetime.
A blur of black hair appeared before him, pulling him out of his mind and an Asian hand tugged him towards the other end of the apartment towards the kitchen which doubled as a bar for the evening. Niall shoved him forward towards the bar and called out to the makeshift bartender over the music that his friend needed a beer. Moments later a beer was placed in Darren’s hand and Niall tugged him over to a couple of chairs lined against the wall and sat him down.
“You really need to loosen up, you know, enjoy yourself a little,” Niall said determinately, gesturing for Darren to take a sip of the untouched beer. He did and felt the alcohol spur through his system, though it didn’t help him loosen up. He followed Niall’s gaze wandering between the dancing bodies, without a doubt trying to find a guy for Darren.
“What if I don’t want to enjoy myself tonight?” Darren placed his hand on Niall’s arm, forcing the Asian boy to look at him. His eyes were tainted with anything but a passion for the night.
“What has gotten you down?” his friend asked giving him a sideways look not used to this more sensitive side of his musically talented friend. “You’re usually the one to kick me out of the dorm room because you need some ‘alone time’.” Niall made air quotes with his finger in the air. Darren shrugged, not ready to have this discussion with Niall quite yet. “I’m gonna go join the beer pong game over there, you seem like you need some time to think.” Niall quietly stated before moving towards the balcony where some unfamiliar students had set up a makeshift beer pong table, Darren watched his friend go, considered joining him for a brief moment, but decided against it.
Niall was right he really needed this time to think right now, and not get wasted. Instead of joining the game outside he let his eyes dart across the crowd once again, observing the drunken forms dancing to a loud, pounding beat while waving their red solo cups around. There was the occasional couple making out, leaned against the wall, and to be honest, some of it looked more like they were trying to eat each other due to the massive amount of alcohol in their systems. But who was he to talk? He had been that guy plenty of times, drunk, miserable, and trying to cover it up by making out with a man he barely knew. The last few times it had happened, it had gotten so bad that he could barely remember the other guys' name when he woke up with a head full of hair next to him.
The realization had been slow, but he was certain that one of those mornings had been the turning point for him, one of those mornings when he had no idea what the hell had gone down the night before. He hadn't wanted that anymore. No more casual hookups, and definitely no more drunken, casual hookups. This didn’t mean losing control, he had convinced himself of that, this was him being smart, and making a grown-up, sensible choice for once. Because, as he had come to realize over these past few months, he was only hiding by not committing himself, he was taking the easy way out. Sex had become like a stress reliever for him, from his father's disappointment and his uncertainty as to whether he would ever find that one person he clicked with. Sleeping around had been easy. Simple as that, an easy way to not commit to anything, and to avoid rejection, because by walking out first thing in the morning he never let anybody in. But that longing of belonging to somebody, to be able to wake up next to the same person every morning, and go to bed with that same person every night, had spurred inside of him for a little while now. He was going to break the mould everybody had assumed he fit so perfectly into. Maybe he wouldn’t find that somebody right this instant, maybe it would be a while, but he was sure as hell that he would be worth waiting for. Whoever he was.
***
Clouds of cigarette smoke hung close to Landon’s head, the puffs of white were clearly visible in the dark night air that surrounded the group of students huddled together on the small balcony. The loud pounding beat shuddered through the house, loud enough to be heard through the thick glass door. The street lights were bright and illuminated the night along with countless head and tail lights from the cars driving down the street. It wasn’t chilly out as it was only early September, just a few weeks into Landon’s junior year as a fashion student. Red solo cups were aligned in a pyramid formation at one end if the table, making a promise of the fun, competitive night that was just getting started. After an intense week of swimming in sketches and designs, Landon couldn’t think of a better way to destress than a game of beer pong.
“Yes!” Niall exclaimed as his little, white ball bounced elegantly and without a hitch into the opposite team's cup.
“Way to go Ong!” somebody praised from the back, clearly happy that Niall's team was winning. The ball was handed to Landon by some blonde girl he didn’t recognize, to be honest, he didn’t recognize a lot of the people here, he rarely attended these sorts of parties. He hadn’t gotten out of his bubble, school, homework, sleep and the occasional shift at The Gap, lately to socialize. Truth be told, he had barely attended any parties or social gatherings of any kind during his sophomore year, and the few he had dragged himself to had been far in-between. All in all, he didn’t go out much, only had a small handful of friends, the majority of which he shared at least one class.
He weighed the small ball in his hand. It was featherlight, barely a ghosting touch on his palm, only by pressing the tips of his fingers to the hard plastic surface was he sure he still held the ball. He bent his knees slightly to be able to aim properly, he measured the distance carefully with his eye, deciding which cup he was most likely to be successful at hitting. Somebody had lit up another cigarette while the wind had picked up a little, blowing all the smoke in Landon’s face. The smoke clouded his vision, making the scene before him blurry. The tobacco smell infiltrated his system like the venom of a poisonous snake, causing him to launch into a coughing fit. The redheaded boy with freckles, holding the responsible cigarette between his middle and index finger shot him a look as though Landon had just choked on air.
A head full of curly dark hair popped out from the living room, and Landon’s attention was shifted from aiming the ball at the red cup furthest at the end of the table to the new presence on the balcony. The new presence had eyes that resembled liquid honey, warm and sweet and his lips were full, yet not in a cushion kind of way. Landon’s eyes raked across the other boys body, from the tight, black jeans that hugged his narrow hips perfectly to the pale, mint green henley, that was draped over the muscled chest. The sleeves were rolled up halfway to the elbow exposing smooth, slightly tanned skin the colour of warm ivory. The boy was gorgeous.
“Niall,” the voice that cut through the haze Landon had been in was fruity and appealing and he was drawn to it like a moth to a lightbulb. Golden, captivating eyes flicked from where they had been looking at Niall to quickly glance at the rest of the group. The boy’s attention didn’t linger on Landom anymore so than it did on the other individuals. That observation dawned on Landon heavily, the boy hadn’t noticed him. Try as Landon might, the tall, slender creature in the doorway was indifferent, to him Landon was just another face in yet another campus crowd, not worth remembering the next morning. Therefore, with that thought in mind, he let his eyes wander once more, across the sturdy chest, the way his long slender neck transformed into a strong, well-defined jaw, holding a, what could only be a hypnotizing smile, but this was only an assumption as the boy had yet to smile. But Landon was certain that if the boy did smile the solar system would shift so abruptly, freezing every thought in the process of becoming an action, every action that never was a thought, every thought that would never become an action, only to let the sun and all the stars move to revolve around what would surely be the kindest, most giving smile known to humanity.
“Dude?” Niall poked his shoulder, yanking him from his thoughts that threatened to wash him away. “Where did you go?” the asian boy followed Landon's eyes to where they were still resting on the spot where the mystery boy had stood just moments ago. Something must have clicked inside Niall’s head. “He was just letting me know he was heading home, and wanted to make sure I had my key.” Landon nodded absentmindedly, more focussed on forcing the muscles in his neck to move his head towards the speaker, or anywhere else for that matter. But how could he, just a minute ago the most gorgeous boy had been standing within reach of Landon’s alabaster fingers, and now he was gone, not even allowing Landon the chance to at least etch his picture into memory. Stalkerish as that sounds.
Only when somebody very roughly shoved his shoulder did he realize that he was still holding the table tennis ball in his hand. He sighed deeply realizing that he was now standing with his back straight, he had lost his winner aim. Adjusting the ball between his fingers, finding that spot where it would easily glide out of his hold, but where he was still able to control it, he bend his knees like he had done before and shifted his hips to take the proper aim. Then, flawlessly he let the ball fly up in a curve. The ball flew through the air, towards the other side of the table and the furthest cup. Closer, so close. Suddenly, as though the ball had singlehandedly decided to change its path, it flew just a tad too far, landing on the edge of the cup and tumbling off the table end, bouncing on the floor with an airy sound. Damn. “What happened man?” Todd, one of the few students Landon actually did know, questioned from his position diagonally behind Niall. Landon shrugged ignoring the disappointed look he received from Todd. He kept his head down while he headed to the other end of the table to pick up the ball. When he stood back up again, ball in hand, he caught a glimpse of a curly haired figure illuminated by the lamppost on the street below them, the figure was walking briskly away from the apartment and Landon, to his own dismay, found himself staring a great deal longer than appropriate.
No, he thought to himself. He needed to get a grip and concentrate on winning this game.
***
Heading back to the dorm room he shared with Niall, Darren willed himself not to think about the insanely attractive guy who had been playing beer pong with Niall, he couldn’t let himself dwell on that face, because he knew that if he did he would have taken the boy home, the exact thing he was trying to avoid. Blinking his eyes rapidly he tried to rid his mind of the picture of the attractive stranger and the way his dirty blonde hair had been coiffed into a perfect, wave-like sweep allowing every passing stranger to admire his radiant features. Stranger. A stranger with a beautiful face, so detailed, so inviting, so appealing, that Darren's finger ached to run across the defined cheekbone. He shouldn’t, he simply couldn’t. Couldn’t let himself linger on those thoughts. The boy was a stranger, another face in the packed crowd in the foreign flat. He would most likely never see him again, with the number of students milling around the halls, Darren felt like he met new people every day, so meeting this boy again was minuscule. All the more reason to enjoy him while you can, his lizard brain screamed.
“Oh, shut up,” he mumbled to himself as he headed down the well-lit road. Cars rushed by in their hurry to get somewhere, see somebody or do something.
Getting somewhere, anywhere, not here, not now, not surrounded by these thoughts. With that, he picked up his pace brushing shoulders with a few people as they passed.
Trudging up the main staircase of his dorm block, he had almost fully managed to push thoughts of the cute beer-pong-boy to the back of his mind, instead choosing to focus on his first big assignment of the year, writing a paper on how the Beatles with their eighteenth album, Sgt Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band, had turned their backs on the qualities that had initially made them famous and how it impacted them. The assignment, or at least the idea of it, as he had not begun yet, ranked high amongst the analysis papers he had completed throughout college.
He slipped into his shared dorm room, dumped the contents of his wool coat onto his desk before quickly changing into a pair of sweatpants and crawling onto the itchy worn out mattress that had probably served its purpose through several decades judging by the stains beneath the fitted, white sheet.
***
A couple of nights later Landon stood running his fingers through his coiffed hair as he checked his appearance in the full body mirror in the corner of his dorm room again. His red skinny jeans accentuated his legs making them look lean and impossibly longer, while hugging his thighs just right. Paired with a navy blue cardigan with white stripes from the chest down, Landon felt ready. Tonight was going to be special, his first date since his parents died.
“What do you think, Del?” he spun around to face his long time best friend sitting crossed legged on his bed, her back against the wall. Her chocolate brown, wavy locks framed her facial features composed of big, hazel eyes, a long, defined nose, and delicate rosy lips. She smiled in appreciation at her her nervously bubbly friend, as he danced around on the tip of his toes.
“You look amazing, Landon, stop doubting yourself,” she said with an undertone of domination in her voice. “So, tell me,” she shifted onto her stomach on the soft bed and swung her legs in the air like a giddy fourth grader. “about this guy you’re meeting with.”
“Well,” he plumped down next to her. “His name is Parker,” his eyes wandered from Adelaide’s, that was her full name, to a dreamy space beyond what was invisible to the naked eye. “He takes my still life arts class, he studies history of art.” the brunette nodded in equal measures of interest and encouragement for Landon to keep sharing the details of his newfound love interest. “He’s sweet, kind and he compliments me,” he blushed profusely as the nice feeling spread through his body. It was lukewarm, and felt appealing, though only slightly like something he really craved for. It didn’t make his heart flutter, nor did it make his toes curl and his nose scrunch up in attempt to dwell in the feeling. It simply was.
The boy with chestnut brown hair was by no means completely inexperienced, he knew that this feeling, with it’s slight flutters, couldn’t compare to the way his heart had raced with his first love back before his parents had died. So far, nothing could compare to what had existed between him and his then boyfriend. It had been fulfilling in an alien way for the teen, some had said it was puppy love, but he had quickly brushed then off in favor of planning out their future together. He had been Landon’s whole world until one night in the middle of September.
At the funeral, some had said it had been the rain, some had said it had been a pile-up, while other simply had acknowledged that it had been a terrible, irreparable accident that had left a seventeen year old an orphan.
Everything had smoldered to dust between Landon and his boyfriend after that, the fairy tale life Landon had planned out in detail burst into flames and left a pathetic wish to rewind the clock in its wake, as the only clue that it had ever existed. His boyfriend had drawn away, more out of desperation than anything else, he couldn’t recognize the boy he had been in love with anymore.
The split had been mutual, or at least that’s what they had told everyone who asked, that Landon needed space to figure things out on his own. In reality it had culminated on a windy afternoon a couple of weeks after the funeral. His boyfriend had confronted Landon, yelled at him in frustration of not being able to understand why he couldn’t reach the blue eyed boy. Landon had cried at the lack of empathy, then yelled back in rage and told him to leave.
“All dreams come to an end. I just feel so stupid I didn’t see this coming sooner. He just doesn’t understand! He doesn’t know what it feels like to lose the people who were supposed to see you grow up. I wanted my dad to walk me down the aisle at my wedding and now that’s all gone.” he had sobbed when he and Adelaide had been alone that night in her room. Her parents had taken him in seeing as both his parents were only children and his grandparents were lone gone.
At first it had been strange, he had no longer felt like a son (a son was someone who had his parents), despite the fact that Adelaide’s dad had taken to calling him son. It was during that time, that he and Del became connected on a deeper level, achieving an understanding beyond the comprehension of her parents and sometimes beyond themselves. She understood him, not because of shared experiences, they had almost nothing in common, but because she listened. She listened, reflected, and understood despite not having suffered the loss.
To this date, she still did and over time they had become inseparable, finishing off highschool together, applying to NYU together, celebrating their acceptance letters into their respective programmes, Landon into Fashion Design and Adelaide into Music, complaining about professors or other students, Adelaide sharing the occasional heartbreak with Landon accompanied by a tub of ice cream. It was like a rhythm, a balance.
“Where are you meeting?”
“At that funky bar a couple of blocks from here,” he responded getting up to pace the limited space while smoothing out a wrinkle in his pants.
“From what I’ve heard that bar has created quite the buzz with the music students, something about open mic night apparently,” she gestured with her hand in a haphazardly manner. Open mic night was certainly not the accompanying theme Landon wished for tonight, something about young people who can’t really sing but jump into it after a few beers anyway had a tendency to kill the mood. He sighed, this night was supposed to go perfectly smooth, preferably not interrupted by a bunch of youngsters bellowing out lyrics off tune. Adelaide quickly sensed the change of the demeanor in her friends posture and hurriedly threw in a suggestion.
“You could always just take him to the campus coffee shop, it’s still open I think.”
“Del,” he turned to face her. “I would saw off my own hand before taking an attractive and sweet guy to the campus coffee shop for our first date.”
“Well then get out that door and go meet your prince charming for a wonderful date.” she insisted jumping to her feet swiftly and nudging LAndon in the direction of the door.
“I will,” he countered slipping his phone, wallet and keys into the pocket of his gray pea coat and opening the door to let himself out.
“Remember, I want every last detail when you get back!” she shouted after him as he headed down the hallway to the stairs.
The club Landon had chosen was indeed buzzing. A thick bass filled the air causing the young man’s heartbeat to feel as though it was synchronized with the all consuming, thrumming beat. A sleek, black counter was placed against one side with several shelves of alcohol behind it. The other side hosted small tables scattered along the wall with chairs framing the tables to either side in a cafe like manner. Gazing at his phone, noticing that he was early he decided to wait for Parker by one of the tables and do some people watching to pass the time.
***
Darren arrived at work ten minutes early, excellent by his own standards, and quickly discarded of his black leather messenger bag and wool coat of the same colour in the break room in the back of the establishment. Kylie, the other bartender on duty, sat on one of the two small stools engraved in her phone, only looking up when Darren very pointedly cleared his throat.
“Oh, hey Dare,” she smiled flirtatiously, her brown eyes giving his body a once over.
“Hey,” he responded too slow to notice that the girl had already gone back to her phone.
He stretched his arms above his head, twisting his wrists to loosen up a little before his shift began. It certainly would be a busy one, the all night ones always were. He busied himself with sorting the different bottles of half used alcohol behind the counter into categories, for easier access when he would have his hands full with orders later in the evening.
The sky was darkening outside, a tell tale sign that soon enough the place would bubble to life and he would be forced to listen to another batch of people belting out karaoke lyrics completely and utterly out of tune. Oh, the perks. Finishing up with the uncountable amount of tall glass cylinders, he wiped the bar counter down with a damp cloth and put the finishing touches on the cut out fruits stacked in boxes under the table.
Soon people were streaming in from the street, eager to relinquish control a little after a long day, most were young, presumably college students, and dressed in articles that would never be seen on campus, whether the clothes sported tonight was too fancy or too daring, it was always interesting to see what his fellow students hid away in the back of their closet. His eyes didn’t catch on anybody particular as the masses entered. Admittedly, despite the disconnection and anonymity the bartender always seemed to receive, if matched up with what he disliked the most - crowds, this job might not have been a smart choice. But the thing was that when you live in a city like New York, Darren had long since reckoned, not everybody cared. Not everybody cared whether you’re straight or gay, white or black, and though judgemental people come in heaps Darren never felt uncomfortable in large crowds outside the campus, where gossip wasn’t a currency.
Everybody always assumed it was some sort of claustrophobia or antisocialness, but the real reason as to why Darren always found himself sitting in the back of the classroom with his face buried in his textbook or studying in his dorm instead of in the library with a group of the other music majors, was actually the rumours. Or rather the fear of them, because no rumours about the curly haired boy had circled the social cliques of NYU during his two, going on three, year stay. Yet, the thought of rumours about his sexuality or his short-lived, but numerous, affairs getting out and spreading to everyone willing to listen was absolutely terrifying. Of course, a lot of students decided to explore the sexual side of themselves while in college, but to be known as the gay guy who sleeps around, was just a bit more exposed than Darren was willing to be.
And so, he had taken the gig as a bartender a couple of times a month to just be the faceless man pouring a drink and getting a tipsy smile in return that wasn’t laced with judgement or old, social rules and etiquettes that he surely already had broken thousand times over. The anonymity it allowed him to have was nice, refreshing from the constant head down, don’t draw attention to yourself lifestyle he had adapted ever since his father had called him a disgrace for coming out.
People came and went to and from his sanctuary behind the black, shiny surface, and as the night went on the orders became more slurred, the crowd larger, the music louder and as he had done countless times before he let himself float in the simple requests for a tall order of alcohol.
Note: Not thoroughly edited for grammatic mistakes, all mistakes are mine.
#story#romance#gay#gay romance#fluff#angst#original#author#writing#slowburn#lgbtq#rumours#insecurity
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how long does it take to get an insurance quote
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how long does it take to get an insurance quote
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i want to get my permit, my mom says no because she said her insurance will go up. she has Geico. i am a Straight A student....how much more money would she have to pay each month? p.s. a number would be great =)""
What is the diffrence between the full tort and limited tort auto insurance?
i have just moved to nj from england and im trying to get insurance on my range rover i have just bought here but your insurance is totally diffrent to ours what is full tort and limited tort (etc) on progressive i can get my range rover insured for $200 a month but then it says recommended $450 and plus package $570 we dont have these diffrent packages i have no idea what bodily injury is and it goes on about all these thousends of dollars on property damage and lawsuits and uninsured its all so confusing can someone please help and break it all down im only 20 but im 21 tomorrow i moved here in april this year so i dunno if it will be cheaper when im 21 tomorrow i know it drops in england when your 21 but im not sure about here any advice would be appreciated thanks p.s love the country :)
How much is average tenant insurance?
I'm doing this project for school and I have to pretend I'm renting a house for the first time so i need to figure out all the costs and stuff. What would be the average price/month for tenant insurance? if it helps, i live in BC, Canada.""
When you buy a used car how many days do u get to put insurance?
How many days can u drive around whit it whitout insurance ? how much time do u get to go the DMV and stuff ?
How much is car insurance a month?
I am a female 21 yrs old that lives in Buffalo,ny. I wanna know how much per month will I have to pay for car insurance and if anyone suggests any car insurance companies for me.""
Plz recommend good/affordable health insurance for 55+?
Looking for a good health insurance for my parents who are 55+. Is there such a thing as good and affordable??? Thanks!
What is the best car insurance company out there today?
I'm gonna get a car soon and I'm having difficulty picking an exact car insurance company to insure my car so I just wanted to read others opinion on what car insurance they think is the best.....if availabe tell me the pros & cons....
Which car would the cheapest insurance (Civic ex (4dr) or Lancer ES)?
?
""What is the best car insurance for a single girl of 20, full-time job, and living in a safe neighborhood?
a price would be cool along with the insurance name
What is the best/cheap dental isurance?
What is the best and cheapest dental insurance in CA for someone who isnt married or have kids is on a tight budget, and needs major exstensive dental work including cosmetic and anestesia?""
Would insurance be high on an impala ss?
I'm 18, I have a safe driving record (so far), I've completed driving school as well as defensive driving (it gives me a discount), if it helps. I'm thinking about buying an impala ss. I can afford it as far as the payments go, and my parents have agreed to pay the insurance if it's reasonable . So what am I looking at, guys?""
""New Driver Insurance question , Help me out if u can.?""
Hi i just passed my test and want to know what Insurance company to go with . Im 25 years old . Just got my self Saxo VTR cheap on Ebay , The issue i have is , I only want insurance for 2 months on the car as im getting better car in 2months Time as the VTR is just temp car for me to start with. Anyone know good Insurance company ? Also Note this is ENGLISH Question. So no Yanks please x x x Thanks""
Who has the cheapest auto insurance policies in Pennsylvania?
I'm purchasing a '97 GTI VR6. I don't have insurance, because I currently own no other vehicles. What would everyone recommend as far as a decent and affordable auto insurance policy? I'm 19 years old. No accidents and no tickets of any sort. Thanks in advance!""
Auto insurance: Found Wawanesa cheaper than Mercury?
Anyone in California find that Wawanesa is much cheaper than Mercury. For our two infiniti family the rates for 1 year was WaWa-$1150 vs Mercury ($1,650) What gives here?? Why the big disparity?""
Do I need gap insurance?
I have an 05 nissan 350z with 30000 miles on it. kept in very good condition. KBB quotes my vehicle trade in value at $18,337. I paid $19,???. I put $5,000 down. so now i have to pay with interest $18,???. I have full coverage insurance, but no gap insurance. If i totaled my car would I be screwed?""
""What is a good insurance company that will insure a just bought, used cell phone?""
What is a good insurance company that will insure a just bought, used cell phone?""
Is it up to age 26 or through age 26 for insurance coverage on parent's plan?
With health care reform, young adults can now stay on their parent's insurance longer. Is it UP TO the day they turn age 26 or through the age 26 that they are able to have the coverage?""
Which car is the cheapest to insure for a newly qualified 17 year old driver ?
My daughter wants her own car but insurance costs seem very high - can anyone sugest a suitable car for a new driver that won't cost her a small fortune to run or maintain ?
""What is the best rate (cheapest) for basic liability car insurance in ontario , primmum insurance told me?""
thier rates is 135.00 / month and i have perfect driving record ,can any one help me plz""
What is the lowest quote that people are getting from this site?
I managed to save 150 p/month. Can anyone find a better quote from this resource? http://www.adrian-flux-cheap-car-insurance.blogspot.com
Car insurance rates depends on Car Makes?
I have a really big issue on my hands, and that is finding a car that doesn't have a high insurance rate. What is the difference in insurance prices with different cars like BMW and Honda/ Toyota and Cadillac? Also, provide a source! plz! thnx!!""
how long does it take to get an insurance quote
how long does it take to get an insurance quote
https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/get-motor-insurance-quote-online-daniel-gonzales/"
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