#and its all like. folks my dad’s age and older.

[thumpersdae]

I Am once again asking for season 3 Dndads to be about adults <PLEASE>

specifically my adults here that i have already made!

WELCOME, Folks!!! to my Cyber Punk Nursing home Dndads Pitch!!!

DNDADS PRIDE

(pride is a brand of a motorized wheel chair)

[straps activate on you chair you are stuck here you must read!]

So the idea is that Grandkid's (Scary, Link, Normal, Taylor) Grandkids (shown above) are the playable characters, but there are all seniors who have been placed in a Long Term Care Facility (a better name for "nursing homes" btw). But the world has progressed enough that things are cyberpunk!

maybe all of the PCs loved one's all stop showing up on the same visit day. The PCs combine their efforts to try to find out why, and then they run into a big mystery or conspiracy through that.

themes that could be in season 3 just because we set it in a care facility and have senior Characters.

Normalizing a variety of disabilities and dreaming of how accessibility devices can advance

humanizing people over 50, [Please please please, we've done it to the middle aged, we sexualized the heck outta those dads. ive seen what people have done with Omega Daddies in certain circles (my circles) we have the Power to let retired people be more than a punchline. i want something to look forward to in my older years! let them be silly complex sexual full people PLEASE!!!]

community building!!! alot of care facilities in my area Have social and communal activities they do because their residents get together and demand/them. groups -just like the one ive drawn- get together, out of boredom and loneliness (often people who have better mobility and memory) and then make it their job to work with staff and people who have a harder time advocating for them selves. to make sure social needs and wants are being fulfilled. and now that we have (what i perceive to be) a younger audience. it would be great to show them how that sort of work is done and how it can make a big change to quality of life. [the 3rd character (who i designed for Will) seemed like the type to start one of these groups. just look at her with that big purse and cool jacket. thats a move maker folks!]

the way that older/disabled people are often overlooked, and therefore people often forget to keep secrets away from them. [the second character (i designed for Matt) i wanted him to look as unassuming as possible, for this exact reason]

Interesting Villains and Problems that aren't often shown because people font write about older folks.

an exploration on how technology can help people (and how corporations will make people have to pay for medically necessary things)

the way nurses and care staff can be very helpful and empathetic. and how others are assholes who are at best just here for a paycheck, and at worse actively hurting people for amusement.

Elderly abuse, not just actively hitting people. there are countless examples of people taking advantage of people who are disenfranchised (like an older people or people with disabilities). often we see and talk about financial abuse. [my idea of the first character (hopefully played by Freddie), was someone who seemed oblivious to a deadbeat family member using them for money maybe because of a memory issue. (potentially there could be a twist about the PC knowing the whole time, and deciding to go along because they think its funny that their kid has to sit threw a marathon of daytime television to get 50$ a week instead of just outright asking for a lump sum)]

#dndads #my art #dndads season 3 #please please please #let them be adults at least #dndads Pride #dungeons and daddies

[saucy-sassy-sparkly]

Moments: One

Note: It's here (and about an hour later than I expected to get it up... my toddler did NOT want to go to bed)!

I'm so excited for this little story; it'll likely be 6 parts total, but I have 4 drafted now. I have a general timeline, some of the pictures I use won't be accurate, I'll get things wrong, and I'll omit things that should've been part of the narrative. I hope you can just embrace some fiction and enjoy it with me.

Reader is female, but I've tried to keep her description as vague and I'm trying to be sure to use a variety of types of women in the picture inserts.

Pairings: Chris Evans x Female Reader

Word Count: ~5.5k

Please leave me some feedback, I'd love your thoughts! Happy Thursday!

Moment's Masterlist

One 1997: Killington Ski Resort

They say that you encounter your soulmate three times before you meet them. It may be a short conversation while waiting for a sandwich at a deli down the street.  Or perhaps it is as children, playing in a hotel pool on a “once-in-a-lifetime vacation”.  It may be a blind date gone horribly wrong, only to have the evening salvaged by a stranger at a bar.  

In other instances, the encounters involve no contact: passing strangers on a sidewalk, concert goers in the same row, children at the same playground, and passengers on a train platform.  

For some people, those moments are spaced a lifetime apart.  For others, mere hours.  And for some lonely folks, the introduction never happens; they’re never introduced, they never take the risk, or their circumstances don’t allow for the universe to do its job and put these two souls together. 

Those three moments, be they brief moments or a whole evening, can link a couple together forever.  

When the sun was up, it had been a balmy 29 degrees today, but now that the sun was quickly dipping below the mountain, the wind picked up and the temperatures were dropping. Chris pulled his goggles off his head and waited for Scott to get to the bottom of the trail. It was Scott’s first outing on a snowboard and it was taking all of Chris’s energy to be a good, supportive coach. In reality, Chris wanted to take off and leave him behind; he could’ve done at least twice as many runs if he hadn’t been waiting on Scott all day.

He saw his dad outside the lodge waving him over and got to him just as Scott appeared over the last ridge. “You guys want to do one more?”  

Chris nodded, “I do, I’m not sure what Scott’ll want, but can I go one more time?”

“Sure, we’re going to head back on the shuttle. I expect you both back at the condo in the next 45 minutes.”

Chris agreed and watched his dad and sisters shuffle towards the shuttle that would take them back to the condos. He turned and saw Scott scooting towards him and couldn’t help but laugh. “One more run?”

“Yeah, I think I’ve finally got it.”

Rolling his eyes, he dragged Scott to the lift line. With the sun almost entirely gone now, the line was much shorter than it had been all day. It was the Saturday of President’s Day weekend; an annual tradition for the Evans crew to hit the slopes for the weekend, but they always knew going into it that it would be a crowded weekend with long lines. It didn’t matter though, Chris just loved being outside. At 16, he was also invincible and full of energy. He’d stay out here all day if his parents would let him.  

In line, he mostly ignored Scott babbling about what dinner might be waiting for them at the condo; he was too focused on trying to see the girl in front of them. She was around his age, with long hair poking out from under her helmet. Her pink ski jacket and black snow pants left more than a lot to his imagination but with his “sexually active” card newly stamped, girls were just about all he could think about. Her laugh had caught his attention when they got into line; she was giggling at a joke the older man with her had made and since then, Chris hadn’t torn his eyes away from her. He watched the way she threw her head back to laugh loudly, he watched the way she was constantly moving, checking out her surroundings, pointing things out to the man with her; she talked with her hands and Chris found himself straining to try to hear her conversation.  

“Chris?” Scott shoved him, making him slide a few feet forward and bump into the man in front of him.  

“Sorry,” Chris muttered when both he and the girl turned around. The girl smiled shyly while the man eyed the boys; Chris shot a glare at Scott. 

Scott mumbled his own apology and they both turned back around just as Chris punched Scott in the arm, “asshole.”

“I said I was sorry!” Scott yelped, rubbing his arm, “You weren’t paying attention to me, you were just staring at her!”

“SCOTT!” Chris groaned through gritted teeth, glancing to see if she’d heard.  

She had.  Damn it.  She was glancing over her shoulder at the brothers, hiding a smile and blushing in the most adorable way Chris had ever seen. He gave her an embarrassed wave while he felt himself turning red. The second she turned back around, he punched Scott again.  

“Ow,” Scott whined, rubbing his arm again. Chris ignored him and returned his mission to staring at the back of her head and hoping that his powers of telekinesis were finally working and he could get her to look at him again. 

Up until that moment, when she found out the cute boy behind her was staring at her, all Y/N could think about was how annoyed she was that her cousins and parents had bailed on her and left her with Uncle Chuck. Not that he was bad, he was actually super fun and she had to admit, she was having a good time joking with him. Y/N was the youngest of the cousins but the best skier. She was also the most empathetic. Chuck’s wife had asked for a separation just days before the annual Y/L/N ski trip so he was here with his two teenagers who just wanted to try to steal from the mini bar and try to get drunk without the adults noticing. Chuck was taking his angst out on the slopes and for a while, Y/N hadn’t minded. But now that everyone else was back in the lodge, showered, and probably eating, she couldn’t help but pout.  

But here she was, in line at the lift, listening to the boys behind her bicker and trying to keep things light for her uncle. They’d been joking about her dad, Chuck’s brother, for a while– he was an easy target with his bad dad jokes and weird obsession with restaurants that offered more than one style of BBQ sauce. When one of the boys had jostled Chuck, he whipped his head around looking more intimidating than he was. At 6’5”, her uncle’s lumberjack appearance was all show. He was just a teddy bear, but these boys didn’t know that. She was sure he looked terrifying.

Chuck had shot them both a glare and turned back to the front of the line while she kept glancing over her shoulder. The boys were both cute, probably somewhere around her age, maybe a little older. The taller one– the one who’d bumped into Chuck– had been blatantly staring at her during this interaction. She knew she was blushing, but she didn’t care. She liked his attention. 

She was still getting used to attention like this. In middle school, she’d been in the smart classes but was always afraid to raise her hand in class. She liked getting lost in a book as much as she liked getting outside and moving. Her body was in constant motion, even when she was reading she was tapping her foot, fidgeting with her hair, or twisting her ring around her finger over and over again. She had her small group of friends who stayed to themselves and had the same Friday every week: Blockbuster, ice cream, and sleepovers.  

But now that she was in high school, Y/N was a good little basketball player– good enough to have schools already interested in her as a freshman– and somewhere between the first day of high school and now, she’d noticed boys… and sometimes girls… staring at her. Groups of people she hardly knew came to her basketball games and waited to talk to her after. She was the only freshman on the varsity team and was already a starter; the older girls on the team had taken to her fairly quickly and adopted her into their groups of friends. She wasn’t sure what to do with the attention, but she knew she liked getting it from this cute boy behind her.

Y/N and Chuck boarded the lift, the brothers behind them still squabbling as she and Chuck left the platform. Y/N pulled her gaiter up around her nose and ears to protect her from the rush of cold air on the lift. They rode in silence, both of them lost in thought and at the top of the mountain, they disembarked and headed towards The Jug– both of their favorite trails.  

Uncle Chuck slowed, clicking his boot out, “You go ahead, I’ll meet you in the lodge. My sock is all bunched up.”

Y/N nodded and took off, enjoying a moment to herself. She’d been with her brothers, her cousins, or her uncle all day. Everyone wanted to parallel ski or talk on the lift. It was kind of nice to have a minute alone to enjoy the sunset over the mountain. She was in no particular rush, staying off to the side and thinking that Uncle Chuck might catch up to her.

Not far behind her, Chris and Scott were disembarking the lift, headed in the same direction. 

“I’ve got this,” Scott assured Chris, “I can do The Jug.”

“Scott, it's a black trail, are you sure? You’re still new.”

Scott was emphatic, “absolutely, I’ve definitely got the hang of it now. This is our last one tonight; tomorrow will be too crowded again. Let’s go!”

“If you’re sure…”

“I’m positive!” Scott whooshed by Chris to the top of the path and around a turn. Chris trailed him, keeping a close eye on him. He watched as Scott took the start of the trail smoothly, crisply moving around a group. He was about 100 yards ahead of Chris and the mountain was getting steep quickly.  

“Slow down, Scott!” Chris called, leaning in to pick up speed to be ready to help, “Scott!”

“I’m fine,” Scott yelled over his shoulder, half turning to find Chris. It was in that half turn that he started to wobble. He found his balance fairly quickly but was also picking up speed.  

“Scott!” Chris yelled again, moving between people. Scott was starting to flail and struggle to regain control. Chris could see Scott pointed towards the edge of the trail and the woods; he knew that he’d told his brother to drop on his ass if he was out of control, but Scott wasn’t dropping. Chris also couldn’t see the pink ski jacket he’d been staring at was directly in Scott’s path.

“LOOK OUT!” He heard his brother yell; Scott was now leaning backward, trying to fall on his butt but clearly nervous about the impact. It was then that Chris could see her. Panic coursed through him. This was going to be his fault. He’d taught Scott to snowboard, he’d let him go on this difficult slope, he’d gotten lazy and tired of being in charge of Scott so he’d let him go ahead, and now he was going to be the reason she got hurt. Chris started yelling too as he willed himself to pick up more speed.

Her head turned too late; a snowboarder was plowing down the mountain right towards her. Her brain didn’t work fast enough; he was flailing and yelling, trying to slow himself down the steep incline. He dropped to his butt just feet in front of her, “Ohmygodohmygodohmyoooodddddd,” he yelled when he collided with her. He took her out by the ankles, she felt pain slice up her leg as she landed directly on top of him; they slid a few more feet, thankfully going slower due to all of the things they were dragging through the snow, and his snowboard took the impact of a tree at the edge of the trail. They bounced slightly, both of them jostled and tangled.  

“Oh fuck, oh my god, oh shit, are you okay? I’m so sorry. Oh god,” it was one of the brothers from the lift line; he kept pushing at her, trying to get them untangled. He kept repeating, “I’m so sorry, I’ve never snowboarded before.” If it wasn’t so painful, it would’ve been funny: they were a pile of neon fleece and polyester unable to fully move their limbs because of the thickness of their snow clothes. Every time one of them moved, it shoved the other, so every time one of them successfully untangled one part of their clump, another thing got stuck together.  

“Hold on,” she muttered to him, unable to get up to unclip her boots and therefore unable to get to her feet, “I can’t reach my boots.”

“Here, let me see if I can,” he said, trying to reach around her; she yelped and he immediately stopped. “Oh god, are you hurt?”

Before Y/N could answer she heard, “Scott, you idiot,” the other brother called as he came to a stop beside them. He immediately reached down and unclipped her boots from her skis before offering her a hand, “are you okay?” he asked as he pulled her to her feet and held her shoulders as she tried to regain her balance. She was about to nod when she finally got her feet under her and pain shot through her ankle as it gave out. “Shit,” he said, grabbing her by the waist and holding her. “What’s wrong?”

“It's my ankle. I’m sure it’s fine,” she waved him off before she tried to pull away from him to stand on her own. She winced again and slumped again, his arm quickly tightening around her. 

“Way to go, Scott,” he snapped at his brother, who was still now on his knees and trying to stand. “Take her skis,” he said to his brother before turning to her, “I’ll get you down the mountain.”

“What?” Y/N asked and shook her head, “no, I’m fine, I can get down.”

He paused and dropped his head so he could make eye contact with her, “What’s your name?”

“Y/N,” she replied, watching his blue eyes as a smile crept on his face.

“Well, Y/N, I’m Chris. The asshole who tried to kill you is my brother Scott. I’d really like it if you let me take you to the bottom of the mountain and get you checked out with the medics.”

“Seriously, I’m fine, I can just walk down or something,” she waved him off again and started to pull away from him, “thank you though.”

Scott piped up, now standing again next to her and holding her skis and poles, “please? I don’t want you to get more injured. Who are you here with? I can go get them and bring them to you. Or I can get a ski patrol.”

“Or,” Chris offered, “I can put you on my board and have you at the bottom of the mountain safely in no time. I promise you won’t get hurt with me. Do you trust me?” He held out his hand. 

Y/N giggled, “Did you just quote Aladdin?”

Even in the fading light, she could see his blush, “maybe.”

“Fine.”

“Really? That worked?” She couldn't help noticing how genuinely surprised he seemed.

“Get me to the bottom safely, please,” Y/N gingerly stepped her good foot onto his snowboard and let him take her weight against him as he pulled her the rest of the way. It took them a minute to get into a comfortable position with her back against him; she was so much shorter he could see over her head easily. He tightened his grip on her, trying to calm his nerves. He’d promised to get her down safely, and now he had to deliver. He took off carefully, holding her waist to keep the weight off her leg and moving them very slowly down the side of the trail. His legs burned from the effort of keeping them slow, holding her upright, and trying to appear much more cavalier than he felt. It took far longer than normal to reach the bottom, and every bounce pushed them into each other making them both tense. By the time they were at the bottom, they were both flustered and blushing from the proximity.  

When he was unattached from his snowboard, he turned to her, “why don’t you get on my back. I’ll take you to the first aid station.”

Y/N hesitated. It was one thing to be pressed up against him for the sake of getting to the bottom of the mountain. It was another to climb up on his back, in public, and parade through the lodge. “No, no, no, I can walk.”

He already had his back to her, reaching his arms around behind him. He looked over his shoulder, “we made it this far, let’s get all the way to the finish.”

Y/N was glad his back was to her because she was blushing furiously. She could hardly breathe. His arms around her waist the whole way down, his breath in her ear, his chest in her back… she’d been overwhelmed by his closeness and his touch. He had to be at least 16, a few years older than her, with the most adorable smile she’d ever seen and the brightest blue eyes. This sweet gesture was the most romantic thing she’d ever experienced and she had no idea how to act. She was trying not to let him see how nervous he made her.  

He was still waiting for her, his back to her with his arms outstretched, and she heard him call her name softly. She nodded and reached for him while he bent down and she put her arms around his neck. “On three,” he said, leaning down further, “one… two…”

“Three,” Chris said, wrapping his fingers around her thighs as she hopped onto his back. He was sweating profusely from the exertion of a day on the slopes and now from having a cute girl pressed up against him for the last 15 minutes. It was impossible not to notice her little dimples or her blushes every time he made eye contact with her. 

Thank God Scott can’t snowboard… Chris didn’t want her to be hurt, but he was excited for a chance to spend a few minutes away from his dumbass brother while he helped Y/N.

“Here we go!” Chris started to gallop into the lodge towards the first aid station. 

Oh my God… I started to gallop… like a horse… shit.  Chris thought to himself. This is so embarrassing. Oh, God. Oh, but she’s giggling. Okay, I guess I’m galloping now… 

The first aid station was at the back of the lodge; he got her there and held tightly onto her legs, not allowing her to slide down his back, “I’m not putting you down until you’re with a medical professional. You’re not walking around on that ankle.”

“Chris,” she meant to whine but hearing her say his name like that made Chris’s heart thump harder. 

“I’m serious, Y/N. Not until you’re with someone.”

She huffed a sigh but dropped her chin on his shoulder. He wasn’t sure if he was on the brink of melting into the floor from the overstimulation of cuteness she radiated or if he was grateful for the many layers of protection his snow suit provided from anyone seeing his growing hard-on.

They got her checked in and Chis finally let her slide off his back and onto a cot, but he sat down next to her. “Thanks,” she said quietly, catching his eye and giving him another delicious blush. He noticed she was a little teary-eyed; she must’ve been in more pain than she let on.

“How are you feeling?”

Y/N shrugged, “not great, I’m hoping it isn’t broken.”

“That would suck,” Chris agreed, trying and failing to think of anything to say to her. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t come up with a joke or anything remotely witty. He thought about reaching out to take her hand, but his own were sweating too much. He settled for nervously rubbing his hands along his thighs and glancing back at her. She averted her eyes quickly and they both nervously giggled.  

“You really don’t have to stay with me,” she forced herself to make eye contact with him. Out loud, she’d told him to go, but in her head, she prayed he’d stay next to her a little longer. His presence made her feel comfortable. 

“Are you trying to get rid of me?”

“NO!” she answered too quickly and recalibrated, “no, I just don’t want you to feel like you have to stay. I’ll be okay. Is Scott okay?”

Chris turned his body to face her squarely, “I’m happy right where I am. Scott is fine.”

“Okay,” she whispered, twisting her hands in her lap and willing herself to say more. God, she was so nervous. The way he looked at her made her pulse race. For as much as her ankle hurt, all she could think about was how dry her mouth was and how much she hoped he’d hold her hand, put his arm around her, or do anything to initiate contact again.

“So, uh,” Chris tapped his fingers on his legs, trying to channel his nervous energy. “Are you from Vermont?”

“No, I live in Maryland.” She said quickly and forced herself to continue the conversation, “What about you?”

“Massachusetts. We come up to ski on President's Day weekend every year.”

Y/N nodded, “we usually stay closer to home but my parents wanted to do something different this year.”

They were both silent for a few seconds, each of them anxiously racking their brains for how to prolong this moment. The door to the examination room opened at that moment and a nurse practitioner came in, “well, Miss Y/N, I hear you took a tumble? Let’s take a look.” She started to pull out her stool and move towards Y/N, “I’m going to take your boot off, okay?”

Y/N sat up straighter and nodded to the NP while Chris jumped off the cot, rubbing the back of his neck. “Can I get your parents? Are they in the lodge somewhere?”

“I think my parents took the shuttle back to the hotel, but my uncle was behind me. I’m sure he’s waiting for me by now.” She winced when the boot slid off, clenching her teeth. Tears formed in her eyes again and Chris returned to his spot next to her. He tentatively put an arm around her; without another thought, Y/N leaned into him and whimpered quietly while the practitioner manipulated her ankle. She looked up at Y/N sympathetically and then at Chris, “were you getting her uncle?”

“Oh, right,” Chris slid his arm away from Y/N. Tears were tracking down her face and he didn’t want to leave her. This girl he’d known less than an hour was now his only concern. 

“The guy you were in line with is your uncle, right? What’s his name?” 

“Chuck Y/L/N. He’s a really tall guy in a red snow jacket and–” she cut herself off when he came storming into the room with Scott hot on his heels.

“Y/N,” he barked, “are you alright? I heard what happened. This one–” he pointed behind him at Scott, “ –found me.”

“I’m okay, we just got started.” She gestured to the nurse practitioner who was still gently moving her foot and ankle, each time making Y/N wince or yelp.

“Damn snowboarders,” he glared at Chris and Scott before he pushed by Chris and sat down next to Y/N, “think they own the whole mountain. Goodbye, boys.”

“Uncle Chuck–,” Y/N started, looking up at Chris but Chuck cut her off with a stern, “goodbye,” before he started talking to the practitioner and asking questions.  

Chris gave Y/N one last look and a wink; Scott apologized for the millionth time and waved half-heartedly before heading to gather their belongings and go to the shuttle. On the short ride from one side of the Killington property to the other, Scott talked the whole way, lamenting and then complaining of his own injury. Chris tried to sympathize with him, and he tried to listen, but he kept thinking about Y/N. 

He thought about her all the way through dinner and a round of video games after dinner. He thought about her as he got ready for bed, and he was still thinking about her when he fell asleep. Maybe he’d come back from this long weekend to find that a new student was enrolled at school… Y/N. In his daydream, he was of course the one the guidance counselor called to show her around campus, which led to inviting her to eat lunch with him and his buddies, which led to asking her to go to the mall after school, which led to going to the movies that weekend, which led to kissing her goodnight, which led to… 

Y/N however, had spent the rest of the day and well into the evening at the local hospital. The nurse practitioner had determined her ankle was likely broken and had advised her to be taken for X-rays. The emergency room staff confirmed it after several hours in the ER, and by the time it was set and she was in a cast with crutches, it was almost midnight. She was emotionally and physically exhausted. She’d begged and pleaded with her parents not to try to find the boy who’d done it; that it was an accident and they didn’t need to contact his parents and try to “decide how to deal with it.” After a very tearful conversation, her mother had finally convinced her father to drop the subject and let them get on with their weekend.  

By the next morning, her mother had profusely offered to stay with her, rent movies and hang out in the condo with her, or take her shopping, but she’d decided to stay in the lodge and read her book with hot chocolate and the roaring fire. Her family left to ski for the day, her parents promising to come back and check on her at lunch. She was trying not to mope and moan, particularly because her dad and Uncle Chuck were still discussing the idea of talking to Scott and Chris’s parents. God, the last thing she needed was them to threaten to sue them. She knew it was all out of care, but both men could be a little overzealous. Y/N was certainly disappointed that Chris lived in Massachusetts and she was in Maryland, but she didn’t want them to stay in touch over a lawsuit.  

She’d hobbled to the lobby and settled in front of the fire, and was about a chapter into her book when she felt the couch cushion beside her dip with the weight of a new body. They were way too close; who does that? Who sits down directly next to someone when there are multiple couches and oversized chairs? She peaked out of the corner of her eye and couldn’t help the grin that slid on her face. Chris was next to her, his own book open, and he was casually reading with a giant smirk on his face. He didn’t look at her immediately, instead, he continued to read and flipped the page dramatically.  

Y/N continued to grin, knowing she was also blushing and feeling her whole body start to sweat, but she turned back to her book and forced herself to read. Another page in, and she felt his eyes on her. She continued her charade just as he had, and continued to read. He huffed a sigh and dropped his book in his lap to cross his arms. She picked up a piece of hair on her shoulder and twirled it around her finger, hoping it seemed casual and cool, while she finished her chapter. When she was done, she quietly put her book in her lap, picked up her hot chocolate, took a sip, and looked at him over the rim of the mug. 

“Oh hey,” she whispered, hoping she sounded cooler than she felt.

“Hey yourself. Good book?”  

She nodded and stared at him for a minute, taking in his perfectly gelled hair, his big handsome smile, and his captivating blue eyes. “Why aren’t you out there?” She gestured towards the huge windows next to them. 

“I saw you when we left breakfast downstairs. I thought you might need some company today. You know, since Scott tried to kill you. I feel responsible for you.”

“Shouldn’t Scott feel responsible for me?”

“He’s proven that he can’t be trusted,” Chris pointed to her ankle, which was propped on the coffee table. There was a lull in conversation; Y/N was tapping her fingers on the cover of her book. Chris started to reach out to her and pulled his hand back; after taking a deep breath, he tried again and covered her hand with his. “I was also hoping you’d want to hang out with me.”

Words, Y/N. Any words right now. Say anything, you have to say something, oh my god he wants to hang out with you SAY SOMETHING. Y/N’s whole body froze as she stared at his hand on hers and his eyes fixed hard on her face. She had to be the color of a tomato right now. She had to be sweating. Could he feel that? Could he tell she was sweating? Were the tops of her hands as sweaty as her palms? 

She settled for a shy nod and another lull settled over them, this one was more comfortable. She spilled her hot chocolate and they traded a few lines back and forth about the snow and how nice the fire felt. Finally, Y/N said, “let’s play 20 questions.”

“Isn’t that the game where you try to guess an object or something? You know like ‘is it bigger than a bread box?’”

She rolled her eyes, “I guess that’s the wrong name, but how about this: we each ask a question and both of us have to answer.”

“I’ll go first,” he agreed, looking around the room before he settled on his first question, “when’s your birthday?”

“April 2. You?”

“June 13. Your turn.” They went back and forth, moving into books and tv shows they watched, how they spent time with friends, and what their hobbies were. Y/N was fidgeting constantly, entirely unable to get comfortable and Chris kept jumping up to help her adjust her propped-up leg.  

After Y/N finished telling a story about a time her social studies teacher split his pants during class, Chris’s laughter subsided and he smirked, “who was your first kiss?”

She bit her lip and dropped her eyes, “Kyle Brown. We were in 4th grade. It was the last day of school, he spent all day literally pulling my ponytail, then he kissed me on the bus, got off, and moved away. I never saw him again.”

Chris cackled, “what a chicken. If I was going to kiss you, I’d make sure I’d see you again every day.”

Y/N felt herself redden from the tips of her toes all the way to her hair; at the same time, her heart dropped. He said if he was going to kiss her. Meaning it was a hypothetical statement... Meaning he wasn’t going to kiss her. In this afternoon spent together on this sofa, she’d been convinced he was flirting and was convinced he’d kiss her. She stared down at her hands, trying to force a smile while she listened to his answer.  

“Y/N?” He asked after she’d been quiet for a moment. She looked up and pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. “You’ve been quiet for like a whole minute,” he laughed, “you okay?”

“I’m fine, I should just go back to the condo, I need to take some painkillers,” she started to stand up, reaching for her crutches that Chris thrust at her. 

“Let me walk you back, I can help you get your meds and get you settled. Will you be alone?”

“It’s okay, I can get back on my own,” her voice was quiet while she tried to be sure she had everything. “Thanks for sitting with me today.”

“But I–” 

She had already started to move away from him and he followed her, navigating around furniture and people; she tried to pick up her pace. She was embarrassed and sad that she’d misinterpreted the time together and even more embarrassed that she’d gotten her hopes up that a boy from Massachusetts would kiss her. It’s not like anything could come of it. 

“Bye, Chris,” she glanced over her shoulder and said it as firmly as possible before starting to move again. He stopped in his tracks and just stared at her, watching her walk out of the lobby and into the wind. 

#chris evans fanfic #chris evans #chris evans fan fiction #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fic #chris evans series #cevans #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x female reader #chris evans fluff #chris evans drabble #christopher robert evans #chrisevans

[blackadamschefter]

I'll try to be brief and avoid rambling as I like to do lol.

So, I was on twitter for something else and then saw in my lil "what's happening" that "Tutsi" was trending and so it got my attention right away and so I clicked it and saw that it was #Kwibuka30. So then it kinda brought alot of thoughts that I've had for about the past week or so rush straight to the front of my brain.

Its #Kwibuka30, and its essentially a day of remembrance of the 1994 Genocide in Rwanda. Its a day that I don't particularly think about often but I think of that year and period as a whole more often. Its kinda two fold where as in the past I didn't know of it (the specific day not the cause) and now that I have actively chosen to learn, read and fully immerse myself in it vs. just listening to convos and stories through my family members. I'm also close to the end of a book "Do Not Disturb" by Michela Wrong that is focused on the murder of a former high ranking RPF (Rwandan Patriotic Front) member but for me touches on the subject of the things that contributed to and reaction of the '94 genocide. Other books I finished that also touch on the subject. With that I also am a smarter & more informed just based on who I was around and listening to and I'm older, better educated (more educated??) anyways. I saw all that to get to this bit that made me feel like putting this and these thoughts out (so I can come back to and see).

I was personally affected by the '94 genocide and my family as a whole was affected by it. My life would be completely different if what led to it and it happening never happened. So I feel a certain level of pain/hurt when I think of the number of uncles I never got to meet, or cousins I didn't get to know.. I feel for my mom who lost brothers, uncles, friends & my grandma who lost her kids, siblings, nieces/nephews, etc. So it does that to me and to those who I have no relation with I think of more now than then because no one deserves to lose their life like that esp. innocent people who knew nothing and were taken. Its political and a longstanding thing that folks were gonna get their lick back but damn. Knowing now what I know I think its important to clarify that if this were to ever be seen by a person who.. idk just wants to start something or call me or consider me a génocidaire (genocide denier... in french for a reason) for what I'm about to say.. its actually far from it.

I understand that #Kwibuka30 is more or less reserved for "commemoration of the 1994 Genocide Against the Tutsi" I believe its also important that families of innocent Hutus should also be taken into consideration and remembered. Because the bigger play here is fully political in how its handled but its inhumane (to me) to make people feel less than or not be allowed to openly mourn for there own because others who did something so horrific shared the same tribe and that means they don't deserve the same sympathy... fuck that because its not fair. So as I think about my family and everyone who was affected. God Bless to all the lost souls that died, survived and many who feel guilty for being around. I pray for yall & hope you find a second to mourn, celebrate and feel free even if its just for a second.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

This takes me to Gaza & the Palestinian people because it was for them who made me relive things that happened more so when i was younger and knew nothing. I'm glad I was able to get off what I needed in the first part but this was more due to the images I was seeing. I feel for all those impacted by what's happening because at one point that was my reality, and I listen to the people in my family and close friends talk about the periods where we were on the move from refugee camp to refugee camp, walking for ages, just the blur of it all. Its brings you down but my mom and I have convos about it and I see why our bond is so strong and we struggled together to get to where we are. My dad too! Out there put in the frontlines and making it back to check on me or having his men guard where I laid my head in many cases. Owing the chance I got to my uncle who was also in the military like my dad and he & his wife protecting my mom and I and so many stories where God was there for me and mine. Lucky to make it out fr. So I see the images of kids eating, playing, in their parents arms and I feel and get a jolt of emotion that reminds me I was once just like them. So how its imperative to show love, give, pray and what I can to help. Life is unpredictable and my heart goes out to each and everyone impacted by it all.

Idk man.. I had to get that one off my chest and put it somewhere.

#personal

[redfish-blu]

“Newsie’s Dispatch is a collection of excerpts from the prolific Analog War correspondent News-a-go-go’s personal journal. Containing interviews, photographs, and first-hand descriptions of Battery City and its surrounding zones which have never before been published.”

Unnamed Jet Star interview transcript

Go-go: I understand you an’ your crew go way back?

Jet Star: Sure we do. I’ve known Party Poison and their brother since I was fifteen.

G: Gosh! You must know em’ (Party Poison) pretty well then?

J: Well I like to think so, but they surprise me.

(both laugh)

G: Tell us a bit about them. What was scrappy-teenager Party Poison like?

J: Scrappy is an understatement. They’re an Alumni (slang-term for a person who used to stay at Gravel Gertie’s).

G: No kidding! You heard it here folks.

J: They’re not embarrassed about it. Or anything else, really. They’re special like that.

G: Aww.

J: No, really, Party was always special to me. I think in general as well. They always seemed way beyond their years, older than me even though we’re the same age.

Maybe because they’ve seen a lot. Even as a kid, or because they never had anyone taking care of them like I did with my dad. They raised Kobra since he was eight. That shit takes major guts out here, you have to be fucking tough. I ran the zones since I was twelve with my dad and I know first hand how hard it is to keep a kid alive. Let alone when you are a kid yourself.

But Party was always able to do things I couldn’t. Or that I hadn’t. And it’s special, it would be to anybody. But to me it’s even more than that.

Party raised their brother, cared for him, then they cared for me, and then Ghoul way down the line. They’re the one who was able to build our family, keep them alive all these years. And I protected them. Because even back then when I was fifteen without a real clue in the world, I wasn’t dumb enough to not see how much they mattered.

So I held on to them. We both did, we kinda latched onto each other and just refused to let go for anything. You ever met someone like that? Someone who, if they were ever separated from you, you’d be lost without them? Yeah. Party would survive without me, of that I’m certain. You’d have to pry them from my dead fingers first, though.

- Newsie’s Dispatch, 2042.

#the jetpoison feels got me bro #2 character studies at once yo #danger days #jet star #party poison #neswagogo #killjoys #danger days fic #mcr #jetpoison

[everlywindex]

my headcanon for how robin and finney met!

bonus character analysis/rant under the cut

when robin was 7 years old, before he properly met finney, he'd just lost his dad and was a lot more stressed out and emotionally volatile. as a result, bullies liked to take advantage of his temper in order to rile him up and get him to attack them, that way he'd get in trouble even though they were the ones who started it.

one day, one of these kids got robin to shove them during recess, but as they ran off to tell the teacher, he bolted and hid underneath the slide. finney had been noticing this happening and felt bad for his classmate, so when the teacher came near, he went over and lied to the teacher about where robin was hiding, sending them in a completely different direction.

once the teacher was gone, finney made his way to robin's hiding spot under the slide. he sat next to him and they started to chat. finney revealed that he'd lied to the teacher, and thanked robin for finally standing up to those bullies even though it got him in trouble so often.

finney couldn't help but look up to the other boy for being so recklessly determined to stand up for himself, as well as for others less fortunate (whether it be another kid being targeted by older students, or a random spider that one of the other kids was threatening to squish) and that's why finney did what he did.

but robin, meanwhile... in that moment, even if finney didn't think that highly of himself, robin was awestruck at this kid who'd just lied to a teacher for someone he didn't even know. it was a sign of pure boldness, bravery, and compassion, the likes of which were pretty uncommon, especially among their peers.

and yet here finney was, acting like it was no big deal.

that's when they became best friends. decided to look out for each other and have each other's backs, no matter what. this was going to be the start of something special, that was for certain.

(granted they both got found under the slide before recess ended and they were put in detention the rest of the day but they just spent the whole time passing notes to each other with silly doodles on them so it was okay)

☆

prepare for an essay folks. it might even be my longest one yet.

okay. so. i get. SOOO FUCKING ANNOYED BY INTERPRETATIONS OF FINBIN THAT ACT LIKE THEY WERE FRIENDS BECAUSE ROBIN JUST FELT BAD FOR FINNEY AND WANTED TO PROTECT HIM OUT OF PITY OR BECAUSE HE JUST THOUGHT HE WAS "CUTE" OR WHATEVER!!! IT MAKES MY BLOOD BOIL!!!!!!

here's the thing. Guys. this may come as a shocker but robin explicitly states:

"you've always been a fighter, finn! that's what we had in common. why we were friends. you were always afraid to throw a punch, but you always knew how to take one. and you always got back up, every time."

finney never was the type to beat the shit out of those who challenged him or intimidate others with his mere presence. finney is shy. he's conflict avoidant. he'd rather run from his fears than face them head on. but finney is not weak. and robin knows this.

that's why their dynamic is so special! robin understands finney's situation. he knows that finney has a terrible home life and he can't just fight back against that due to the power imbalance between him and his dad. robin knows that all of the relentless bullying that finney had faced has given him issues with his self esteem and confidence.

robin understands that strength does not equal invulnerability.

finney had to practically raise his little sister on his own for what's likely to be nearly half his life due to abuse and neglect while shouldering all this trauma that no kid his age should ever have to deal with. it's fucked up. of course that takes its toll on someone, of course they won't come out of it unscathed and unbothered.

but in robin's eyes, that's what makes finney's strength so obvious. he was forced into being the strong one, he didn't ask to be the strong one, and yet he's still here. even after everything terrible he's suffered through, he still always gets back up.

finney doesn't recognize it, but robin does. robin tells finney that he needs to stand up for himself someday because robin knows he already has it in him, even if finney doesn't recognize that himself.

so when i see an interpretation of finbin becoming friends that states that robin wanted to be finney's friend just because finney needed protection... it feels. so weird and wrong. because it completely takes away that respect and admiration on robin's end that was so present in the original movie

i think you guys forget sometimes that robin does admire finney and not just in the shippy "he's so pretty/nice/cute/sweet!!" way. no. robin thinks finney is just straight up really awesome and strong and cool. and he wants finney to have as much faith in himself as robin has in him!

it's so frustrating how people see this extremely sweet dynamic between an abused bullied kid who has low self esteem and considers himself to be weak despite the fact that he's shouldering more trauma and responsibility than anyone his age should ever have to deal with & his best friend who sees him for who he truly is, thinks he's SO fucking awesome, and wants him to see how awesome he is as well... and then those people just proceed to make it a flat "soft uwu boy x strong tough protector boy" with absolutely none of that incredibly engaging nuance

it just makes me... sad. y'know? i hope one day more people in this fandom can come to appreciate these guys for their actual dynamic instead of shaving off everything about their dynamic that's unique and just leaving us with a pair of cookie cutter generic Gay Boys™ that can be easily molded into any incorrect quotes template that shows up on their dash

because that's just not finney and robin.

and i will die melodramatically in a magnificent blaze of glory on this hill if there is even a slim chance my martyrdom will inspire a change in this cursed hellscape of a fandom /lh. i just want justice for my boys!!! but these weird boring one dimensional interpretations of them are so common!! it drives me insane

anyways i'd love to hear your guys' takes on this. mostly because i just want more excuses to talk about finbin. please talk to me about finbin pl

#tw for a bit of discussion involving abuse under the cut #the black phone #robin arellano #finney blake #finbin #rinney #headcanons #character analysis #rant #it is almost 3am and i am going rabid over fanon characterizations of horror movie middle schoolers right now #help me #everly speaks

[dollarbin]

Dollar Bin #19:

Tom Petty's You're Gonna Get It!

Imagine a new Tom Petty record.

I don't mean some new archive set like the expanded/alternative versions of Wildflowers or She's the One. I mean a record that is entirely unheard of; one that no one even knew to long for.

I'm disappointed it hasn't happened yet. I hoped Petty's and, for that matter, Prince's, estates would provide a much needed balm to us all after each of their tragic passings by gifting us a miracle, a great white whale we did not even know was lurking beneath us all these years, on the order of Neil Young's Homegrown or Dylan's Complete Basement Tapes.

Sure, we got to hear Prince alone at the microphone, but I feel like he probably made recordings like that, effortlessly, once a week in 80's. And yes, there's a single, previously unknown, piece of pop greatness to be found on the posthumous Petty box set, 1982's Keep a Little Soul.

But where's Petty's Black Eyed Dog? Where's his Hundred Highways? It's not enough for us to miss Tom; we want to hear his voice reach out and comfort us once again from his untimely grave.

I know exactly what I'm asking for here because I've already experienced it. That's right: at age 13 I was sure I'd discovered an entirely-lost-to-history Petty album.

Let's start at the beginning. My two buddies - both named Matt - and I reacted to Full Moon Fever by going Tom Petty crazy. Tom checked every box a few geeky, unpopular and yearning-for-the-ladies white kids needed checked: he wasn't already property of the cool kids, he was counter-cultural in obtuse, safely-white man ways, his songs were as often as funny as Weird Al's, he rocked, and his middle name was Earl.

So for Christmas / Hanukkah that year we embraced communism's concept of collective ownership in an effort to get our hands on the entire Petty catalog. As the beloved leader of our oligarchy over none, I directed Matt 1 to ask for Let Me Up and Damn the Torpedoes and Matt 2 to get the self-titled debut album and Hard Promises (which, based on its cover, looked like the lamest record), leaving me to squeeze my own stocking with confidence that Southern Accents and Long After Dark were in there on tape, waiting to change my life for the better.

What else, you ask, did we ask for that holiday? Blank tapes of course: it was our standing and too-obvious-to-speak-about agreement that by dinner time on the 25th everyone would have copied both their new albums twice and delivered the copies to one another by bike.

That's right folks: none of us asked for You're Gonna Get It! There was a simple reason: the record was utterly out of print, had never been released on CD and was nowhere to be found in any local Dollar Bin. To three 13 year olds in 1989 who were busy exploring music without knowledgeable parents or older siblings in an era long before the internet, it was as if Petty's sophomore album had never been made. We didn't ask for it because we didn't know it existed.

And so when we rolled up with my dad to the Fabulous Forum on March 1, 1990 for our first ever popular music concert the three of us believed we had the entire Petty catalog memorized.

Ah, what a glorious night....

After buying Petty shirts and promptly putting them on we took our seats and saw the cringy but sorta awesome opening act, Lenny Kravitz. Lenny tried to lead the entire indifferent audience in a sing along to a song no one had heard at that point, Let Love Rule. This was long, long before he got a marketing clue and traded in his second-fiddle-to-Liza-Bonnet role and became a peddler of planet destroying SUVs.

The night also marked our first brush with rock and roll royalty as both Dylan and Bruce Springsteen joined Petty and the boys for the encore. And, although the internet tells me it's not possible because of the concept known as death, I feel like Roy Orbison appeared as well. I guess it must have been his ghost that appeared behind those famous shades...

But to us 13 year olds none of that compared to the women directly in front of us getting into an all out, beer flinging and fake nails in the eyeballs, brawl in the middle of Freefallin'. My father, lord of the bon mot, instantaneously summed up the crazy scene by yelling "they're slamming boys!" All hail my father.

Is it any wonder that I wound up with a lifelong love of music after such a night? And I haven't even told you the best part: Benmont Tench hitting the opening riff of Love is a Long Road in the full dark as the show dramatically opened is one of the top 10 moments of my entire life.

There was just one unsettling moment all night. Mid-show Petty played a song we didn't know, all about listening to your heart. That wasn't too upsetting; there were plenty of songs he played that we didn't know. We figured they were covers, or coming out of the next record, because no one else in the audience knew them either. But when Petty told us about a ladyfriend resisting some dude's money and his cocaine everyone else all around us sang along.

We were a smart group of kids but we didn't put two and two together that night: take the fact that we were the youngest people there by a decade, add in the fact that everyone else there new the song and you wind up with an obvious conclusion: we were missing a Petty record. And so I went home with a nagging worry: what explained that one song?

The answer came from Saint Cross's Quaintance Shop a month or three later. Picture a fading church thrift store 35 years ago. Wigs and berets on white, styrofoam heads, mismatched golf clubs, iron-on izod patches for dressing up second hand kids shirts filled the front room; even less desirable items could be found in the back. A rotation of women born in the 20s manned the counter, clucking about whatever whenever my busy mother stopped by to pick up the shop's meager taking in her role as vestry treasurer.

I was still too young to have an excuse not to join her on these errands, and thank god for that because I wandered into the back room, thumbed through their quarter bin - that's right, in 1990 there was no such thing as the dollar bin; rather every record cost a quarter - and had my universe rocked when I saw Tom Petty standing in blue light with Stan (check out his handmade, drawstring hot pants!), Mike (pensive as always, deferring to the Tom as the boss), Ron (looking like he already has one foot out the door and is working up to his managerial role at an eighties bikini shop) and Benmont (forever a teenager) on the cover of a previously unknown record. Had the sun exploded in the sky at that moment I would have shrugged: the Holy Grail was in my hands and a moment before I had not known there was a God.

"Mom, please can I buy this? I just found it and I really need it."

"Sure you can, honey. Where's your money?"

"I mean, mom can you buy it for me? I don't have a quarter. But I'll pay you back, I promise." (This wasn't a case of not having my wallet; I literally did not own a cent at that moment. Every cent of my weekly $2 allowance would instantly go towards tapes. I did not yet own a turntable of my own and the recently discovered player in my parents cabinet still had a needle that had needed replacing in '74. I was forever broke and I remember borrowing money to buy Sergeant Pepper for a quarter from a different thrift store soon after.)

My glorious mother sighed and made a look that said "children these days..." Then she produced the precious quarter and I took home the arc of the covenant.

My glory was strong but short lived. Yes, the Matts were both blown away to discover a hithertofore unknown Petty record. But the only working turntables we knew belonged to Matt 1's formidable aerospace stepfather, and only Brahms was allowed on that one, and Matt 2's parents, and listening to a record in their living room necessitated dealing with Mickey, a truly insane golden retriever who weighed way more than me and was an incessant licker of his own formidable balls.

So it wasn't until high school that I really got into the greatness of You're Gonna Get It!

First, let's pause to consider the greatness that is an album that ends in an explanation point. We've already discussed Jonathan Sings! at length in these pages but there are plenty of other amazing albums made by brilliant artists who are goofy enough to add a ! to the end of their album title. Consider Get Happy!! And Henry the Human Fly! And what about Help!? These Are All Great Records! For that matter, wouldn't If I Could Only Remember My Name and Wild Tales be even better if Crosby and Nash had affixed explanation points to their titles? Man, I wish it was called Blood on the Tracks!

(Dear Stephen Stills, I know you're reading this so please pay attention: yes, we see that you tried to jump on the explanation point bandwagon in '05 by putting out a record entitled Man Alive! Good try Stevieboy, but to this day no one has ever listened to that record, and no one ever will. And don't try reissuing your 70's back catalog as Stills 1! Stills 2! Stills! and Illegal Stills! It will not change anything; those records will still forever suck.)

By ninth grade I had a turntable of my own and my first real appreciation of Your Gonna Get It! was getting way into Magnolia. I ask you, what better song is there for a horny heterosexual male ninth grader? I guarantee you I'm not the only boy who spent a whole lot of time visualizing themselves as Petty's first person protagonist:

From a table across the room

She was signalling me with her eyes

I walked over to be introduced,

I said hello, she just smiled

And said I know a place not too far from here,

We could get away for while.

Yeah that's when she kissed me and told me her name

I never did tell her mine...

Magnolia...

There's a lot to say about this track even after 24 years of blissful marriage. This song, and all of Your Gonna Get It!, features a complexly layered, full band vibe. Petty didn't just put everyone on the cover, he also gave them equal sonic billing; an approach he increasingly abandoned at the eighties increasingly set in and he got tempted by all the money and the cocaine. Hear the thick, bending bass stepping forward like a bold and reckless Romeo, driven by the tiptoeing lead piano riff. Petty's not the only one who gets lucky during this track. Everyone does.

Indeed, all of Side 1 is stone cold classic material, too rich and dense to have initially grabbed hold of me in eighth, then ninth, grade. The album opens with When the Time Comes. Tell me, please, why this elegant, powerful pop song is not more famous than everything on Wildflowers? When the Time Comes views every song on that overrated record with withering pity.

Tench's organ swells, the bridge spans mammoth depths, the drums and guitar carry us relentlessly forward up to a hollered fade. And then it's suddenly over and before we know it we're already kneeling down before Petty's declarative, white man soul in the title track.

Do you hear that guitar solo give way to the spaced out Dead vibes and then back into the chorus of chasing vocals? How the hell did this album ever get overlooked, forgotten and dropped out of print? Why are we ever listening to anything else in our lives?

On the back of my original 25 cent thrift shop copy of the LP there's the obligatory encouragement to reach out to the Official Tom Petty And The Heartbreakers Fan Club at 890 Tennessee Street in 'Frisco. I say that if we all send them self addressed stamped envelopes right now and demand a reissue of this record complete with bonus tracks then they'll do it and they'll also release, after all these years, Petty and Co's previously recorded, utterly forgotten and never before issued 77 lost album.

Come on people, lick those stamps. We're Gonna Get It!

#Youtube #tom petty and the heartbreakers #the basement tapes #stephen stills still sucks #neil young

[asexual-means-no-attraction]

Hey just curious but is there any point in trying to go on T after a certain age? I'm almost 30 and still haven't been able to see someone for a diagnosis and start medically transitioning and I've been told that if I haven't gone on T by 23 then it's too late for me but since you're a guy who's had to go through that process I wanted to ask if you know anything about that and how legit the claim is?

Don't get me wrong, transitioning later in life does come with its own unique challenges. One of the big one being the social issues that come up. By the time your 30 you might have a more stable job, kids, a spouse, etc. Coming out by itself can be difficult by itself let alone trying to explain to your straight husband that you're also a man. Depending on where you work you might risk your job. Most support groups seem to focus on young adults, and said young adults can be very mean to older folk (and vise versa).

That said, 30 isn't old. It's not. I know we all like to think it is, and as someone who's not there yet it still feels like some far off number. But 30 really isn't that old, and it's certainly not too old to medically transition. I think there's more health risks when you start later (this is a guess, I have no evidence to back this up). But that reasoning being because you are more at risk for certain health conditions in general as you age. Plus the specific risks hrt can bring. But none of those risks would be any different than the risks as someone who starts hrt at 20 once they get close to 30 or 40. So it's really a mute point.

It can also be a little more frustrating since hrt is basically like puberty. Imagine being a teenage boy but at the age of 35. It's a little awkward. But that phase doesn't late that long, and you'll have the rest of your life (a good 40 years if you live to 75) to enjoy being who you truly are. I'd say that's worth it.

Transitioning later in life has it's challenges. But so does everything in life. It's never too late to transition. I've seen transmen transition after 30 and be just fine. I've seen trans women transition at 60. You can do it at any age. Your journey is yours alone. Whether you discover yourself at 20, 30, or even 60 that's ok. You always have time take steps into being your real self. Into becoming more comfortable as yourself. Into doing what'll make you happy. Don't worry. You can do it.

I think a lot of the misconception comes from the fact that most stories we see are of younger adults. And we consider that age range to be a traditional period regardless of gender (it's when you're supposed to figure yourself out). But you can discover yourself at any age. My dad is 50 and only says that he's only now feels like he's figuring out what kind of person he wants to be. My gf's mom is going on a hippie road trip around the USA in her minivan at 50. My grandmother at 65 is only now getting a chance to learn about herself after being stuck in an abusive marriage. My 80 year old grandmother tells me about new things she's figured out every other month. You have so many more years ahead of you. 20 isn't nearly as impactful of a time for self discovery as we like to claim. It's important don't get me wrong. But I've seen more impactful self discovery journeys from people over 40 than anything I've seen from people in their 20s. You got time. It's never too late.

#answered #ask #not discourse #advice #transgender advice

[theresnohopelivinghere]

The Journal of Emme Walker, May 2019

If you walk the streets at night in Hope, there will be no hope for you.

My grandparents used to tell me that all the time when I was a little girl.  Even from a young age, I never took it seriously.  I was a prideful child.  I thought I was invincible and that nothing could take me down.  That’s probably why my mom, bless her heart, had such a hard time coming to terms with my rampant curiosity and my thirst for adventure.  But my grandparents would not be deterred from scaring some sense into me.

The thing about rural towns is that people love to make up stories about them to make them seem more interesting or just to pass the time.  Hope is no different.  It was once an out-of-the-way town out by the sea, in the middle of nowhere.  I’m talking about dusty roads, ample farming, spotty local transportation, stores that looked like they came straight out of a black-and-white film, and older residents living the last of their lives in the one place they’ve always called “home”.  

It used to be that I’d just spend my summers there with my grandparents, helping out with their garden while partaking of the harvest.  But after my dad died, my mom moved back there and I went to school there from grades 4 to 6.  We moved before the development push.  She was offered a cushy job in a city she'd always wanted to live in that would allow the two of us to live comfortably into the foreseeable future.  A get-out-of-rural-jail card, if you will.

Seriously. According to her, it was our one escape out of a town that had proven itself to be anything but idyllic. If she hadn't taken it...well, things would be very different.

She's not a fan of me going back there to interview people for my dissertation. Which is funny because growing up, she'd tell off my grandparents whenever they'd tell me all the stories about all the terrible monsters that lurked within the town of Hope. All the old folks in town had their own stories about what happened to children if they stayed out too late at night or didn't trust their intuition.  Mom didn't believe in using scary stories to ensure that kids behaved themselves.  She told me that if she wanted me to behave myself and be a good girl, she’d just say so.  But my grandparents wouldn’t listen.  They insisted on me telling me these tales so that I could protect myself. Because there were too many instances of children who disappeared because they weren't warned properly.

I'm glad they did. Mom won't admit it, but she's glad, too. And yet here I am, on my way back to that town, ready to hear the stories of the children who didn't escape from the elders that still remain. Hope may be different now - young families moved in to take their place and brought with them the promise for gentrification. Shopping, entertainment, the town holds its own.  The local elementary school is top notch and so is the high school. There’s train service that links up to the other parts of town as well as the bigger cities, and paved roads that get you to the highway system.  You can go everywhere now.

And yet...

I know studying modern folklore and urban legends in the town of her birth won't get me a cushy job in a corporate office but this is something I want to do. Have to do, even. The tale of a seaside town plagued with paranormal activity, rumored to be once started by and controlled by a mysterious cult who swore allegiance to malicious entity who has been around since time immemorial until one they just disappeared - it's all very juicy stuff.

I’m not sure what I'm doing with all this. Why I'm going back. Everyone says if you brush against the shadows of Hope and survive, you should never come back. But that's why I have to. Come back. If there’s one thing that living in Hope has taught me, it’s that old habits die hard and old legends never die. I can feel the shadows stirring again, unhappy that they've been forgotten. They want the people to remember...to fear their power. I can feel the chill in my bones, and the terror squeezes my heart like a vice. I don't know what I'm trying accomplish, but I know I have to do something. For my mother and my grandparents. And for the children who couldn't escape the shadows.

Including the boy I loved.

#creative writing #prologue #abandonxhope #my fic #horror fiction #web series

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

Hey, did I ever tell you people about that time my friend died, and for the next few weeks, for some reason the only music I could listen to was Nirvana, The Clash, and Lucinda Williams? I’m really not sure why it was those three, but they were the only things I could listen to that didn’t immediately make me want to cry. Specifically, the albums Nevermind (obviously), London Calling, and Car Wheels on a Gravel Road.

I think The Clash and Nirvana may have occurred because I was just finishing Never Mind the Buzzcocks at the time, and those were featured at some point, reminding me that those bands existed so I decided to start listening to them again. Not sure why Lucinda Williams came into it. She was just there.

I saw her live for the first time ever last summer, which is a bit surprising given all the time I’ve spent at folk festivals throughout my life. But I’d never been at a festival when Lucinda Williams was also there. She came to town last June, and I saw her with my father, and it was awesome.

I know it was June because it was the weekend after they overturned Roe v Wade, and I was so depressed about everything that I almost didn’t bother going. I often don’t like how much American politics affect the general mindset in Canada. How something big can happen in the States and the next day everyone here is talking about it, while big things happen in Canadian politics and people barely notice. I don’t want my mental state to be tied to American things, I try not to be.

But this was marked out because it was so monumental. A massive, incredibly difficult to overturn shift that will touch everything and everyone there. I don’t like the way Canadians tend to care more about what happens in America than what happens here, but that doesn’t mean I have no empathy. I have friends and family in the States, not to mention the ability to care about people even if I don’t know them. Also, all the toxic stuff that happens in America makes its way up here. When I saw Russell Howard live and he discussed the trucker protests, he asked us if it was a “wave of stupidity” that blew north from America, and he was joking, but yes. Yes that is what happened, if by “wave of stupidity” you mean “lots of American money and disinformation campaigns to spread their dangerous rhetoric here”. Canada tends to pretty consistently five or six years behind the States that way, though that one was accelerated. So yeah, even selfishly, Canadians have reason to be worried about the Roe v Wade thing.

Lucinda Williams acknowledged it a bit in her set, as it had just happened, and was on everyone’s minds. She declared “This song is for the U.S. Supreme Court” before playing You Can’t Rule Me, which was a nice sentiment even if it’s demonstrably untrue; she’s an American citizen and they 100% rule her.

At the end, she left the stage, and then came back amid giant cheers. I went through which of her best songs she hadn’t played, trying to guess at her encore. She didn’t play of her own songs, she played Neil Young’s Keep on Rocking in the Free World. Something that fairly clearly made a point, given its verse about the young woman who gives birth to a baby she can’t care for.

The crowd, up to that point, had been fairly subdued. This is because while we weren’t technically at a folk festival, it was a folk festival crowd. My dad, at age 64, was one of the youngest people there. Folk festivals are populated almost entirely by people older than my father, who were hippies in the 60s and 70s and now they sit in fields and listen to the sort of music that used to represent this. They don’t tend to do a lot of physically demonstrating their enjoyment, because they’re tired.

But something genuinely cool happened during that last Lucinda Williams song. The whole crowd got really into it. All around me, people stood up. Men and women with long grey hair – nothing says “folk festival” like a man with a tie-dye shirt and a grey ponytail, the aging hippie – started dancing. People were raising fists in the air like that probably meant something once. And I’m pretty sure every single person in the field was singing along.

I did not stand up, because I can talk a lot on here about loving things like that, but have difficult actually expressing these things in in-person situations. Also, I was next to my father, to whom what I just said applies tenfold. He is not the stereotypical “emotionless father”, because he’s quite liberal in his political views. He was, in fact, a hippie in the 70s. He has stories about seeing both Neil Young individually, and Crosby/Stills/Nash/Young, in their heyday, and it sounds awesome. But he doesn’t have long grey hair now. He grew up to be a pragmatic government worker.

I think he did sing along a bit to Keep on Rocking in the Free World, but only at a reasonable volume, from his lawn chair. So I followed his lead. To be honest, I had a lump in my throat from the outpouring of expression around me, all these people with hands in the air and yelling along to this song and just looking for something good, after everything. I think I saw tears in the eyes of a few people around me. I had to make sure I did not follow suit, what with being in public and my father and everything.

At the end of the song, Lucinda Williams yelled, “The people have the power!” before leaving the stage for good. The crowd erupted in renewed cheers at that, and my father just muttered, “No they don’t.” He didn’t mean the people shouldn’t have the power. He just meant, you know, they don’t. Like how the U.S. Supreme Court can, in fact, rule its citizens. Of course it can. Grow up.

I told my dad that maybe these people just want to feel some power for a few moments, in this field where it doesn’t mean anything. And wasn’t he one of those people out there, “rocking in the free world” to Neil Young songs back in the day? “Exactly,” he said. “Back in the day. Come on, what are these people doing? They haven’t rocked in years.” My dad has one hell of an ability to ruin a moment.

Anyway, whether or not we agree that the people have the power, my dad and I did agree that it was a fantastic concert. For me, the encore was the highlight, but I was disappointed that she didn’t play Metal Firecracker, which was the main song I played over and over for three weeks, two years ago, when my friend had died and there were only a few things I could stand to hear.

Someday, I am going to get my life together enough so I can afford to fly to the UK and see things. In person. When that happens, I am going to play that last song on repeat for the entire flight, even though I am aware that taking a tourist trip to London to see comedy and comedy-related locations was not exactly what The Clash were writing about when they crafted this song.

[twowivestwoknives]

getting back on here so ig i should give the new followers a rundown cuz it seems like everyones in the same boat:

identity shit -

sup i’m kit and/or seb. i’m a nonbinary dyke, im a lesbian, im trans, im butch, im emo. im biracial (black + white). im mentally ill with the “scary” disorders which i talk about pretty openly. i got that good ol AuDHD, im physically disabled. im 27 and live in the PNW in BC. im super outgoing and a taurus sun/aries rising/aquarius moon.

activity shit -

im a poet and singer and my day job is being a peer mental health worker. i spend a lot of free time helping youth in my community and being on the frontlines if i can, aside from that i hang out with my cat and my partner. pre pandemic i rly loved going to shows and slams and concernts and house parties. i know a lot about astrology and abnormal psychology and structural oppression. i get tattoos, i wear n95s indoors, i dont fuck with eugenics and i mostly hang out with other folks for who respectibility politics work only to throw us under the bus. dykes, fags, cunts, ya know. but in the way that we grit teeth fight for each other and are super loving and kind, we’re just also mean.

blog content -

uhhh ive had this blog for over a decade so if you scroll real far back its not great but not horrible, as are we all. youll see a lot of mcr on here, prolly social justice/calls to action, paramore, dragon age, life is strange, uhhhhhh funny little memes pictures i like and whatever im hyperfixating on. i’ll talk in the tags and kinda use it as a public diary. you can ask me anything but if i dont wanna answer i’ll say no, often what i post is what im comfy posting and anything beyond that i didnt post for a reason.

DNI -

lol these are fucking ridiculous these days but tldr i dont fuck with TERFs, Nazis, SWERFs, racist especially those of yall who r antiblack, and eugenicists which includes antivaxxers n those assholes who just stopped masking. oh and if u shit on PDs or other super stigmatized MH shit and this includes using 'narcissistic abuse' just pls fuck off tyvm

ANYHOW if u want a weird cripple dyke dad or older bro im game.

#life and times #i also have an about page somewhere on here i think #prolly my url /about ? #anyway

[teddyosborne]

Chat, Meet People

Hift is just not only a dating app, it is usually a fantastic place to make friends and build a support system that can assist you and others. Once you determine the timing, you need to establish the parameters round when the introductions take place. נערות ליווי בחיפהOr appetizers and dessert at your place featuring a recipe you whipped up from one of Rachael Ray's books? There isn't any higher recipe for an perception into toxic behaviours in fashionable dating than placing a bunch of single men and women in a villa together for eight weeks. An older lady is aware of tips on how to be sexy as a result of, other than young ladies who've a rocking look, but little information on learn how to be sexy, older ladies have mastered this science. We've former thief Aladdin who some would like to go on a magic carpet experience with. I'm by no means stubborn on the subject of love. Sometimes, it comes all the way down to sheer chemistry.

It will forestall dinner being shut down earlier than the entrée is served. Which of the many handsome characters from the Disney universe might be your soul mate? Whether it's their animated classics or their reside-action function films, Disney is understood for creating unique and, in some cases, very good trying characters. If you are in search of a protected and nondiscriminatory online dating community to begin "herpes talk" with hundreds of singles with herpes, it is your preferred selection. It wasn’t till 10 days before the start of the National Women’s Soccer League’s sixth season. In case your mother and father are divorced, you might want even more time to play musical chairs. It may not be a good suggestion to introduce them to the brand new guy you simply met at your girlfriend's house social gathering last week. At a wine bar for one drink and a fast "hello" or dinner at your home so everyone can actually get to know one another higher? A fast "howdy" at a espresso house or local bakery will just do effective. It's going to always be good as a way to make a listing of all prices of the services related to matchmaking sites that you’re fascinated by becoming a member of.

Our Indian dating websites are stuffed with members looking for friendship, a casual dating and love. With its insights as to your relationship strengths, your love persona kind will make it easier to navigate friction in your relationships and love others more deeply. Meeting the dad and mom is a good move to make for couples who plan to take their relationship to the following level. So take the time to speak to him about his feelings and expectations. If you don't wish to spend numerous time together for the primary meeting, make it quick and candy. There are many choices which are applicable for the first meeting, like dinner at your favorite sushi spot or brunch at the new Italian restaurant. There are good occasions in life that come with first getting over the disease barrier and having a supportive accomplice. There in all probability can be one million questions swirling around in your head: "What if my dad and mom don't love him?", "Should he call them by their first names?", "What if my mother makes another smart comment in regards to the age of my dad's new wife?" Don't stress your self out about these "what-ifs," but do acknowledge your feelings and apprehensions. Some go on to proceed their common lives, like Brad Womack.

Dianne talked about what it was prefer to be the sole ethnic character in the present. While some people find it a bit disturbing to be drawn to a cartoon character or speaking animal, when it comes to these motion pictures, something is possible so be at liberty to hop aboard the bizarre train. Dr. While some folks discover it a bit disturbing to be attracted to a cartoon character or speaking animal, when it comes to those films, something is possible so be happy to hop aboard the weird train. You must discover a way that makes everybody snug and finally opens the door for future interactions. If you realize one another well sufficient and suppose there is a possibility that you have a future together, it could be a good suggestion to introduce your people to him. He might discover it helpful to know that your mother is the "Jeopardy" champion of your family or that your dad is the one with the green thumb. Maybe, if it takes me some time to find love. To seek out your excellent accomplice, you need to grasp your character.

[brokensunsets]

Alright then let's see what happens this week on keeping with the Targaryens. Episode 7

I dont know if I have ever said this but i love how the intro has the blood-flowing sound in too. its the small stuff folks

Laena :( you died too soon

yay we are going to have the same Lucas and Jace from last week. little babies

I am gonna need daemon not to act unhinged today

daemon has now lost two wives. man needs to change something up

all them dragons look really pretty also hella imitating

Rhaenyra is like get the fuck out the way i need to see my son

JACE MISS HIS BIO DAD. LITTLE BBY

Laena girls and Jace being besties. i hope nothing fucks that up

THE KIDS ARE NOT OKAY LADIES AND GENTS

Daemon and Rhaenyra speaking in English and not high valerian feels wrong

ahhh i see aemond is really got his crazy from his mother

gives less than zero shits about aemond but that was beautiful

listen as an older sibling it always always our fault. no matter if it is broken lamps or lost eyes

rhaenyra is a milf and protective as all hell

i see alicent is full crazy now

DAEMON BEING PROECtive over the boys and rhaenyra

ahahahahah fuck you alicent and crispin

if aemond even touches luke I will personally go full mental

eww more screen time for otto

I literally loved laenor and was so on his side but these last two episodes he has just let me down. well shit nevermind he is apologizing

Dear god please don't kill laenor. I was kidding Jesus christ what the fuck is happening

laenor death - no no nope no no nope absolutely the fuck not HE WAS TRYING TO BE BETTER. I know he was a bit of drunk douche but no. fuck i liked him. he was so hot and what about SEASMOKE. has someone checked on seasmoke. fuck this is shit. this show is literally making me age like the fucking characters

oh thank god they did not murder the boys or else I would have stopped watching this show

ohhh well that meltdown about laenor was not necessary. they are running away together well now I feel stupid.

Alright time to go back and enjoy daemon and rhaenyra weeding without feeling horrible

Dear god what is hell is going to happen next week? hopefully Jace and luke and laena girls are going to be okay

#house of the dragon spoilers #house of the dragon

[xtrablak674]

Arbitrary Death Notifications

Clicking on an Instagram notification of someone I possibly knew, according to the wording, I discovered this person was in fact a friend of a former curator of mine, not actually anyone I knew. I don't usually click on those things, but the thumbnail looked like a cute guy and I couldn't resist. It took seconds to discover they they had a photo of her posted and something in the comments about how she had passed suddenly. #WTF

My head spun for a while cause, I thought I could recall seeing her logged in on Facebook recently, I remember thinking how nice she looked in her bangs and darker coloured hair, I love a sharp bang. I clicked over to her IG and there was no clear indication of her passing. Someone had even commented that they DM'd her and didn't get a response.

Finally, I followed some of the people she followed to someone I knew she knew from the gallery, she was the former director of. He/they had posted about their dear friend passing, and their post was dated in August. I logged into my late grandmothers memorial FB account. I put in her name and saw the post on her wall to her obituary, I clicked, she had died seventeen days after her forty-first birthday. #WellDamn

This had me fucked up. Because first I thought she was older than me, and second they said it was natural causes. I had my own suspicions that it may have been indeed natural causes related to some long-term illness or disease she had, because albeit she was very sweet I could tell from her physical appearance that something was a little off. I was too discreet to inquire what it was exactly.

The bigger issue for me is this is all too common, I have gotten to a place in my life where folks are just dead or dying. As my girlfriend pointed out, you have a lot of folks who have passed in their forties, and she was right. My moms died at forty-four, my father short of his forty-fourth birthday, his son my youngest brother died at forty-three the same age as our dad. My friend from my activism days, died in his forties. Forty is the new eighties...

It puts it all into context when I was on the internets a few months ago, looking to see if folks were still alive. Not to reconnect, but just to see if they were still breathing. I was a little disturbed that this was even a thing. Its an aspect of our society that I really don't like, that people pass from this world, and unless they have accomplished something significant they don't get much more than a paragraph or two on some obscure funeral home's website obituary.

A friend, and I can use that word with confidence, who was a former co-worker died and him I was looking to reconnect with and found that he had passed. I am not saying I was devastated, but I was shocked. And for a few years after his passing I did consciously seek to remember him every year around his going home.

I want to do something different for myself, my estate planning which I was supposed to accomplish this year has still eluded me. But on my mental list is a contact sheet for my attorney to attempt to fulfill to the best of their ability, let folks know I am no longer here.

Mind you I don't think a lot of folks are even really thinking of me, but I hold them in my thoughts, and want folks to be well whether I speak to them or not. I think its important to let folks know, so if even for a moment they can take the time to hold you in their thoughts and maybe pray for your soul. I have to wonder though am I alone in these kind of thoughts...

[Photo by Brown Estate]

#death notification #journal entry #death notice #death #obituary #how will I know #mortality #friends and family #check on your friends #instagram #facebook #adulting #death sex and money #funeral #memorial #those left behind #charlotte mouquin #rush arts

[ogsimer2380411]

The Role of Modern Technology in My Life

I could only imagine myself getting by my day-to-day life with technology. In fact, most of my talent and identity are poured into whatever I make on a computer. It may sound like an exaggeration, but part of me believes this is true. Since I was little, I remember having this curiosity about what I could do with the screen in front of me. As a result of years of discovery, these amateur questions of mine turned into a craft not a lot of people can replicate. To give you an example, I want to introduce you to the world of Blender art. 

Blender is a software that specializes in making 3D art. Specifically, it is responsible for modeling 3D meshes, sculpting hard surface models, UV editing different types of topologies, and many more under the 3D workflow apart from making dynamic content like video games. Compared to other forms of art, digital 3D art is a medium that strives to apply complex mathematical equations and understand computer diction that may sound like random noise to common folk. Talent in this craft relies less on skill and more on an individual’s knowledge and patience in absorbing information. It is boring sitting through so many tutorials and reading populated pages in the blender manual, but as a result, we get pictures like the one I made below for my YouTube channel, TheVanillaLog. A collection of artwork made by me in this medium can also be found in this so-called channel, and it has given me an anonymous persona on the internet that people would follow to watch Blender tutorials that involve a toon shader style. Not a lot of people showcase this “2.5D” aesthetic on the internet, so my content covers this niche demand that is only growing much larger as films like “Spiderman: Across the Spiderverse” get more mainstream attention.

In addition to this being a hobby of mine, 3D art has actually been helpful in making some of my presentations in school. If ever I want to insert a cool graphic in a slide, I would make a quick render in Blender using the Cycles engine. Compared to traditional forms of art, it still takes a lot of time and effort. However, it is all worth it just to impress my professor for that class. I even get requests to make something in 3D up to this day from my old teachers no matter how impossible it may be to sculpt it in a 3D medium.

3D art has also been the gateway for me to understand a special field in dentistry known as CAD-CAM. In contrast to traditional practices in medicine, Computer-Aided Manufacturing (CAM) involves the use of 3D software, printers, and technology in making common dental products like casts, dentures, and bridges. I studied this under the supervision of my dad who is a dentist himself, and his help was the reason why I feel that I am ahead of some of my classmates in terms of expertise. This is not being taught by my teachers at university, so it always comes as no surprise when a professor suddenly comes up to me and asks about how common dental software like Blue Sky Bio works. The picture below is a cast I printed in Blender with my name on it. It was a very simple print, but people were impressed with the result, let alone that it came from someone who is my age and has not yet graduated from college.

To summarize, I do not think that I would have the connections and the skill that I have today if it was not for the advent of modern technology. The older generation would be quick to dismiss computers and say that it is rotting the youth, but a part of me thinks that this is going to be the new normal. Just like how normal it is to drive cars to work instead of using horses, computers have become a staple item in people’s households. Its presence does not echo a future to come as much as its absence shouts a sign of someone who is behind the times. We have evolved into something that strays away from past norms, and whether we like it or not, this change is here to stay for a very long time.

[kamreadsandrecs]

My DAD AND I agree on most things: Bloody Marys are vastly superior to mimosas. On YouTube, “Yoga with Kassandra” beats “Yoga with Adriene.” The Yankees over…is there even a question? (This season, maybe.)

But we can’t seem to settle one debate: Are e-readers superior to physical books? I, a millennial, can’t get enough of hard copies, while my baby boomer dad is enamored with his Kindle Paperwhite (from $140), which uses a unique no-glare lighting system to replicate a traditional reading experience more closely than a phone or tablet. It’s tough to operate at first, he said, but you soon get the hang of it. He also likes that it lets him control the font and its size, as well as brightness. “And you can stop wherever you want—you don’t have to put a bookmark in it—and it’ll take you back there.”

I was surprised to learn that many in his generation seem to be on the same page. Amazon says more than one-third of Kindle customers are 55 or older.

Vicki Strull, a brand strategist and packaging designer in Atlanta in her early 50s, is a Kindle evangelist. She initially bought hers in 2012, as a gift for her middle-school-aged children. After the device had collected dust for two years, Strull brought it to the beach on a whim. She was hooked, especially since the Kindle’s waterproof “pages” wouldn’t disintegrate if her soggy kids dripped on them.

Once Strull became a Kindle convert, she purchased one for her parents, now in their mid-eighties, who she says love it and heavily rely on it. “When my mother wakes up in the middle of the night, she uses her e-reader,” Strull said. Since it lights itself, the Kindle doesn’t disturb her father’s sleep.

Her kids don’t understand. “To this day,” she said, her now-high school- and college-age children “refuse to read a book on an e-reader.”

I can relate. I’ve tried a Kindle, but always miss the tactility of hardcovers or paperbacks. I love being able to scribble notes in the margins or fold over particularly captivating pages so I can revisit them later. Call me a Luddite, but the thought of my great-great-grandchild picking up my dog-eared and marked-up copy of Anne Morrow Lindbergh’s “Gift from the Sea” brings me great joy.

I don’t think that kid will ever find my equally loved copy of Heather Lende’s “Find the Good: Unexpected Life Lessons from a Small-Town Obituary Writer” in the magnetic dust of my long-dead Kindle.

Devin Smith, 26, a marketing and public relations manager in Brooklyn, N.Y., knows the appeal of print all too well, with more than 100 books crammed into her “tiny” apartment. “I love to collect all the books I have read as a tangible memento of the stories they represent,” she said.

Though reading is a solitary act, Smith says physical books invite connection with others. She likes reading on the subway and in parks and being stopped by those eager to know whether she’s enjoying the story or shares their (often strong) feelings about the author. “There’s something about the visual of a physical book that immediately opens you up to conversation with strangers.”

For other younger readers, a physical book offers a blessed break from a digitized life. Christopher Lee, 32, a health tech strategist in San Diego, finds reading e-books too much like work. “I try to consume and apply the information quickly,” he said. Hardcovers signal leisure and let him relax.

“Easier on my eyes” is Erica Riley’s verdict on real books. The 29-year-old public relations professional in Morocco, Ind., also says she finds the motion of turning a page so much more satisfying than yet more tapping on yet another screen.

Interestingly, the option to tap, not page-turn, is what sold Frances Spillane, 57, a Boston mental health counselor, on e-books. With arthritis in her hands, hard copies trigger pain; she can read a book on her iPad’s Kindle app more comfortably. And the e-reader app lets Spillane quickly search and access the large collection of therapy books she needs for work wherever she happens to be.

Still, Spillane experiences pangs for the printed tome. “I miss the feel of turning pages,” she said. “I sometimes buy a physical copy of my favorite books, just to hold it in my hands.”

Even my e-book-devoted dad, who has kept a hard copy of “The Catcher in the Rye” handy as long as I can remember, would understand that.



#books #technology #reading

[kammartinez]

My DAD AND I agree on most things: Bloody Marys are vastly superior to mimosas. On YouTube, “Yoga with Kassandra” beats “Yoga with Adriene.” The Yankees over…is there even a question? (This season, maybe.)

But we can’t seem to settle one debate: Are e-readers superior to physical books? I, a millennial, can’t get enough of hard copies, while my baby boomer dad is enamored with his Kindle Paperwhite (from $140), which uses a unique no-glare lighting system to replicate a traditional reading experience more closely than a phone or tablet. It’s tough to operate at first, he said, but you soon get the hang of it. He also likes that it lets him control the font and its size, as well as brightness. “And you can stop wherever you want—you don’t have to put a bookmark in it—and it’ll take you back there.”

I was surprised to learn that many in his generation seem to be on the same page. Amazon says more than one-third of Kindle customers are 55 or older.

Vicki Strull, a brand strategist and packaging designer in Atlanta in her early 50s, is a Kindle evangelist. She initially bought hers in 2012, as a gift for her middle-school-aged children. After the device had collected dust for two years, Strull brought it to the beach on a whim. She was hooked, especially since the Kindle’s waterproof “pages” wouldn’t disintegrate if her soggy kids dripped on them.

Once Strull became a Kindle convert, she purchased one for her parents, now in their mid-eighties, who she says love it and heavily rely on it. “When my mother wakes up in the middle of the night, she uses her e-reader,” Strull said. Since it lights itself, the Kindle doesn’t disturb her father’s sleep.

Her kids don’t understand. “To this day,” she said, her now-high school- and college-age children “refuse to read a book on an e-reader.”

I can relate. I’ve tried a Kindle, but always miss the tactility of hardcovers or paperbacks. I love being able to scribble notes in the margins or fold over particularly captivating pages so I can revisit them later. Call me a Luddite, but the thought of my great-great-grandchild picking up my dog-eared and marked-up copy of Anne Morrow Lindbergh’s “Gift from the Sea” brings me great joy.

I don’t think that kid will ever find my equally loved copy of Heather Lende’s “Find the Good: Unexpected Life Lessons from a Small-Town Obituary Writer” in the magnetic dust of my long-dead Kindle.

Devin Smith, 26, a marketing and public relations manager in Brooklyn, N.Y., knows the appeal of print all too well, with more than 100 books crammed into her “tiny” apartment. “I love to collect all the books I have read as a tangible memento of the stories they represent,” she said.

Though reading is a solitary act, Smith says physical books invite connection with others. She likes reading on the subway and in parks and being stopped by those eager to know whether she’s enjoying the story or shares their (often strong) feelings about the author. “There’s something about the visual of a physical book that immediately opens you up to conversation with strangers.”

For other younger readers, a physical book offers a blessed break from a digitized life. Christopher Lee, 32, a health tech strategist in San Diego, finds reading e-books too much like work. “I try to consume and apply the information quickly,” he said. Hardcovers signal leisure and let him relax.

“Easier on my eyes” is Erica Riley’s verdict on real books. The 29-year-old public relations professional in Morocco, Ind., also says she finds the motion of turning a page so much more satisfying than yet more tapping on yet another screen.

Interestingly, the option to tap, not page-turn, is what sold Frances Spillane, 57, a Boston mental health counselor, on e-books. With arthritis in her hands, hard copies trigger pain; she can read a book on her iPad’s Kindle app more comfortably. And the e-reader app lets Spillane quickly search and access the large collection of therapy books she needs for work wherever she happens to be.

Still, Spillane experiences pangs for the printed tome. “I miss the feel of turning pages,” she said. “I sometimes buy a physical copy of my favorite books, just to hold it in my hands.”

Even my e-book-devoted dad, who has kept a hard copy of “The Catcher in the Rye” handy as long as I can remember, would understand that.

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