#also i wish i could give architectural degree a try. wish i had money for that so i could fail and finally calm down about that

[andreeds]

i need to start journaling i think

[snelbz]

What Happens In Vegas... {1}

An A Court of Thorns and Roses, Feyre x Rhysand, Modern AU, fanfiction.

Summary: For Feyre’s twenty-first birthday, her best friend took her to Las Vegas for a weekend of fun she could never forget. She’s going home with a lot more than memories.

What Happens In Vegas Masterlist

Fanfiction Masterlist

I decided on divorce while I was in the shower, practically slamming the door in my new husband’s face. I went over what I would say to him over and over and when I’d washed my hair for the third time, I knew I was stalling. This wasn’t something I could just pretend hadn’t happened, this was real.

Except maybe I could.

I had plans and life goals. I was only twenty-one. Surely he couldn’t have been surprised by my desire to make this disaster of a marriage go away. You don’t just meet a random person and get married in Vegas. You bring someone to Las Vegas and then you get drunk and get married. But drunkenly marrying an absolute total stranger, who’s name I still didn’t know? Not high on my list of personal accomplishments. I definitely wouldn’t be adding it to my resume when all of this was over.

My parents could never find out, they would kill me. I had plans and priorities. I was going to finish my degree and join my father’s architectural firm. Hell, I had a five- and ten-year-plan, and neither of them included drunkenly marrying a handsome stranger in Vegas.

No, we’d get this thing taken care of and I’d be back in my home town, and back to the life changing internship I was supposed to start in two weeks.

That was it, we’d get divorced and then I’d take this secret to my grave. I was sure my husband was thinking the same thing outside the bathroom door.

I dragged a hand down my face as I stood under the spray of the water and looked at the rock on my left hand. This thing must have cost a fortune. Like a legitimate down payment in a house fortune.

I froze. What if he was into something illegal? His clothes certainly didn’t seem like that of someone who had this much disposable income.

Marrying a stranger was bad enough, but marrying a criminal?

I suddenly felt the need to puke again, but reigned it in. There was nothing left in me to hurl up, anyways.

Attempting to shake the criminal thought away, I tried to take other possible theories into consideration. Maybe he was one of those rich kids that still takes his mommy and daddy’s money, even though he tries to pass off as normal so that he doesn’t have to go to go to all the boring events, full of other rich, snooty people. Or, maybe he had won the lottery and was using his winnings on his trip to Vegas, where he buys obnoxiously large rings for strangers that he marries.

Somehow the criminal theory seemed the most realistic.

A knock on the door had me jumping. “Feyre?”

Well, at least he knew my name.

I hollered back, “Just a second,” and quickly turned off the shower and got out. Wrapping a towel around myself, I looked for something to dress in, but my options were limited. I could put on my white dress, but it was now covered in puke, or the white t-shirt I assumed belonged to the man outside my door, still wet, hanging over a towel rack. I could only assume I’d puked on it, too. Or I could wear the towel.

Towel, it was, it seemed.

I cracked open the door. “Hi.” He was right there leaning on the door frame. I hadn’t noticed when we were sitting down, but he was quite a bit taller than me, a full head, if not more. And he was still shirtless, in those jeans, with those tattoos on display and I was too hungover to process how someone could look like that after a night of drinking.

“Hey.” He wouldn’t look at me, didn’t even seem to notice I was wearing only a towel, thankfully. “Listen, I’m going to have this taken care of.”

I blinked. “Taken care of?”

“Yeah.” He wouldn’t meet my eyes and he was staring at the ground. A scuff on his boots was clearly more interesting than I was. “My lawyers will handle it.”

“You have lawyers?” Criminals had lawyers. Shit. I had to get myself divorced from this guy now. “Yeah, I have lawyers. You don’t need to worry about anything. They’ll send you the paperwork or whatever. However this works.” He finally looked up at me, an emotion I didn’t recognize in his violet eyes, and grabbed his leather jacket from where it was laying on the bed. He shrugged it on, apparently deciding the t-shirt was a lost cause. I wanted to crawl into a hole and die. If I were him, I’d divorce me and run as far away as I could. He probably thought I was going to puke on him again.

“This was a mistake,” he muttered, echoing my thoughts. Hearing him say it, though, hurt for some reason.

I breathed, “Oh.”

He looked up at me then. “What? You disagree?”

“No,” I said, far too quickly.

“Thought not. Wish we would have felt that way last night. Could have saved us a lot of trouble, yeah?” He headed for the door and said, “Bye, Feyre.”

“Wait!” I called and hurried to the door.

When he turned, I really wished I hadn’t seen the hope in his eyes. “Yeah?”

“Here,” I said, already tugging the ring off my finger. “This is yours.”

He looked down at my fingers, gripping the ring, holding it up to him. He blinked, then his eyes narrowed. “Keep it.”

I nearly gaped. “It must’ve cost a fortune. I can’t keep this.”

He shrugged. “I don’t want it back.”

“Please,” I said, following him as he took a step toward the door. “It’s yours and I have no need for it. Take it. Please.”

The second please came out much more desperate than the first.

“Look,” he said, rubbing his temples as he turned around. “Sell it, pawn it, I don’t care. Keep it.”

“No,” I said, without any hesitation. “It wouldn’t feel right. You have to take it.”

“No, I don’t,” he said, voice low.

He didn’t give me a chance to reply, storming outside and slamming the door behind him. The painting on the wall lifted and fell as the force reverberated through the walls. He never even told me his name.

I was left staring at the door, mouth hanging open, the ring still in my outstretched hand.

I had no doubt that whether or not he did have lawyers, he would make sure we were divorced now. I slowly walked over to the undisturbed double bed, the scratchy comforter still in place, and sat down. I sighed and said a prayer to the Cauldron that that really would be the end of this fiasco.

As I sat there, still wearing nothing but my towel, I noticed that my right butt cheek, strangely enough, was aching, throbbing for some reason. I shook my head, not surprised in the least that I’d somehow ended up causing myself bodily harm last night. I stood and walked back to the bathroom after tucking the ring away safely in my carryon bag. I made a mental note to call Joey, who was absent from our hotel room, but she’d come to Vegas with a goal in mind of her own.

It didn’t include getting married, but did include some other activities that go hand in hand with it.

The thought gave me pause and I froze, halfway to the open doorway.

My ass was currently the only thing aching, so I could only assume that me and my soon-to-be ex-husband hadn’t consummated our marriage. I tried to ignore the disappointment I felt at that fact.

I may not have wanted to be married to him, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t enjoy doing other things with him. Things that didn’t end up in a legal and binding contract with the state of Nevada and the Man upstairs.

I knew this was a blessing in disguise. Thank god he didn’t want to keep this mess going, I don’t date bad boys. And that man was definitely a bad boy. I was more into the clean cut, college-educated, I have a 401K type of guy.

Had I ever dated that type of guy? No.

Had I even gone on a second date in the past three years? Also no, but that wasn’t the point.

I could already tell that man was nothing but trouble, and getting as far from him as possible was my best bet.

I sighed, walking into the harsh light of the fluorescent bulbs over the bathroom mirror, wanting to inspect the damage to my ass. I turned and stood on my tiptoes, looking backwards at myself in the mirror. I wondered if it would end up bringing a scrape or a bruise. I hadn’t felt anything while I was in the shower, nor did I remember falling last night — not that I would have anyways. I cringed, hoping my husband hadn’t-.

Black ink and hot pink skin. All the air left my body in a rush. There was a word on my left butt cheek, a name:

Rhysand

I spun and dry-heaved into the sink.

———————

“How, after nearly twenty years of friendship, is your music taste still this horrible?”

Joey was scrolling through my saved songs on Spotify, sharing one of my ear buds. She had, indeed, succeeded in completing her goal last night. She finally stumbled into our hotel room, still orgasm drunk a mere two hours before our flight was scheduled to take off. Thanks to my overwhelming anxiety, I had everything packed and ready to go, sitting by the door when she walked in looking like exactly like she’d spent her night in someone’s bed. Rather than waking up on a clammy bathroom floor.

I thought this was supposed to be my birthday trip. How did I end up with the shit end of the stick.

“If you wanted to listen to your own music, you should have remembered to charge your phone before you slept with our waiter from last night.” It came across with much less sarcasm as was intended, and anyone else would have thought I was being an absolute bitch, but as she watched me swallow the rest of the shitty, airplane coffee, she knew I’d had a rough night.

She went on, ignoring me. “Have I taught you nothing?”

I snorted. “Not to drink tequila.”

With a roll of her eyes, she opened her mouth to reply, but the dinging of the PA above their heads rang out and she paused. The seatbelt sign lit up and we both re-fastened the belts across our laps. She said, “I’m trying to help you and your horrific music taste. Here.” She scrolled through my saved artists and found a band I hadn’t even noticed was on the list. It had a singular song saved.

A screaming electric guitar and aggressive yelling filled my head and I yanked the earbud out. So much for my headache beginning to fade. I was convinced my brain was leaking out of my ear, she’d turned the volume up so loud.

“How do you even listen to that?” I asked, rubbing temples as I began to feel my heartbeat behind my eyeball.

“It’s Illyrian Leathers,” she said, as if that was explanation enough.

“And they're lovely,” I said, taking my phone and pausing the song before unplugging the headphones. We’d begun our descent and would off the plane in a matter of minutes. “But, you know, maybe another time, after you didn’t pour twenty tequila shots down my throat.”

She scoffed, “It was only four, you took the rest of your own accord.” I could vaguely remember Joey putting back to back shots to my lips and tipping them back before I could stop her. Twice.

That vague memory was on the short list of things I could remember.

All I knew now was that I couldn’t wait to get home, climb into my bed, and forget about everything that happened in Vegas. For the first time in my life, I finally understood the popular phrase, What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.

It would be easier to forget, though, if I hadn’t spent the entire flight trying to get comfortable in my seat with my throbbing asscheek.

I stared out the window, watching my hometown slowly fade into view as the plane descended in the sky. I made a vow then and there that I would never leave the comfort of Adriata again. I had proven to myself that nothing good happens when I leave the city limits.

“So what did you end up getting into last night?” Joey asked, gathering her dark hair and piling it on top of her head. “Aside from the toilet bowl.”

“That’s pretty much it.” The less said, the better. The less people that knew, the better. The sooner she was off this plane, the better.

“What a boring birthday weekend,” she scoffed.

We were quiet the rest of the short ride, my stomach mercifully survived the landing, though it did lurch once. After grabbing our bags from the overhead bin, we disembarked the plane, and I was very grateful that we had only brought carry ons.

In no time, I would be on my way home.

The thought had me almost smiling, but the nausea kept that smile at bay.

We exited the plane, past the smiling flight attendants, and exited into the tunnel that would lead us up into the terminal. Joey rambled on and on for the entirety of our walk, but I rarely made out a word she was saying. My head was back to throbbing, and I was counting down the distance that would lead us into the parking garage.

I could see the sign up ahead that pointed to baggage claim, and thankfully we wouldn’t have to wait for any bags, but what we did run into past that sign was much, much worse.

The second we stepped into view, flashes of light were blinding me.

“What’s going on?” I asked, lifting up on my toes, trying to catch a glimpse of the chaos ahead.

“Must be a celebrity on board or something,” she mused, glancing behind us, just like the people in front of us were. I followed suit, only to find the people behind us staring in front of us.

Then I heard it. My name. Being said by about twenty different people.

“Feyre, when’s the baby due?”

“Why didn’t Rhys fly with you to Adriata?”

“Is it true the band is breaking up?”

“What do you have to say about the allegations that you’re sleeping with the other members of the band?”

“Will you be having a second wedding?”

“When is Rhys coming to meet your parents?”

I was frozen, my heart had quit beating and I was pretty sure my stomach was in a puddle in my Vans.

An endless barrage of questions and flashes and my name and his over and over and over.

Joey gripped my hand and pulled my hood up my hair. “Keep your head down and don’t stop walking.”

She began forcing herself through the crowd, shoving one man and his camera out of his way as we hurried through the busy airport and jumped into a waiting taxi, cutting a line of nearly a dozen people. I couldn’t be bothered to care as the paparazzi descended on the cab.

“Drive!” Joey shouted at the man.

He blinked and said, “Where?”

“Anywhere!”

He stepped on the gas, just as I dropped my face into my hands and groaned. My mind was whirling. It made sense, but at the same time, I couldn’t comprehend it.

Rhysand.

The name tattooed on my ass.

My apparent husband.

He was...famous?

Not a criminal. Not some fake rich kid. Not a lottery-winner.

Famous.

Famous enough that paparazzi were greeting his new wife as she got off the plane, anyway.

“Feyre.”

By her tone, I assumed it wasn’t the first time Joey had said my name. My hands dragged down my face as I hesitantly met her gaze.

I blinked.

“What the hell was that?” she asked, her voice raising.

I looked out the window behind her head. We were exiting the airport, and I didn’t even bother to announce that my car was still in the parking garage.

“I…” I began, but my words fell short. I didn’t know. Yes, I did. But I didn’t want to, wanted to pretend that I didn’t, because this could not be my current reality.

“You didn’t happen to get…married while we were in Vegas, did you?”

“I… Yeah. I, uh, think I did.”

She blinked. “Wow.”

And then it just all blurted out of me. “God, Joey. I screwed up so badly and I barely even remember any of it. I just woke up and he was there and then he was so pissed at me and I don’t even blame him. I didn’t know how to tell you. I was just going to pretend it never happened.”

“I don’t think that’s going to work now.”

“No.”

“Okay. No big deal. So you’re married.” Lauren nodded, her face freakily calm. No anger, no blame. Meanwhile, I felt terrible that I hadn’t confided in her. We shared everything.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” I whispered. “I should have.”

“Yes, you should have,” she sighed. “But it’s okay. I know now. So,” she said, crossing her leg and looking at me. “Who did you marry?”

“Rhysand,” I said, and she blinked at me.

“It’s not Rhysand Lunasa, is it?”

I shrugged, I hadn’t even known his name until I found it branded on my asscheek. “Maybe? It sounds familiar.”

“Where exactly am I taking you ladies?” The cab driver asked, glancing at us in his rearview mirror.

Joey glanced at me and said, “Feyre?”

I turned around, seeing the cars still following us. “My parents,” I breathed. I really didn’t want to lead them right where I lived, but it wouldn’t have surprised me if they already know.

Joey nodded and said, “Good call, your dad has a gun.”

I rolled my eyes and shook my head as she rattled the address she’d had memorized for years off the driver.

She sat back against the cracked leather seat and took my hand. I looked over at her. “I’m so sorry I didn’t say something. I didn’t mean to get married. I don’t even remember getting married. I don’t even know how this happened. This is such a…”

“Clusterfuck?” She provided.

I snorted and said, “Yeah, that’s a good word to describe the situation.”

She squeezed my hand and said, “You’re right. You really shouldn’t drink tequila.” I could only nod, my head pounding. After a second, she asked, “Do me a favor?”

“Mm?”

“Please don’t break up my favorite band.”

My eyes widened as I realized all at once who my darling husband was. “Oh, my god. He’s the guitarist from that band.”

“Illyrian Leathers,” she said, smirking as she looked over at me. “And yes, he is. Guess you’re going to have to listen to his music after all.”

I didn’t bother to tell her the obvious: no, I would not. This nightmare of a marriage would hopefully be over before I’d have time to search and find one of his records.

I smacked my forehead. He’d been plastered on Joey’s bedroom wall since we were sixteen, when Illyrian Leathers had formed. How could I have not recognized him? “It makes sense how he could afford the ring.���

“What ring?”

I hesitated before fishing the giant rock out of my pocket. When I held it up, Joey’s eyes widened.

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah,” I muttered. “I know.”

“It’s massive!”

“I know,” I repeated, still amazed at the size of the diamond.

“I mean, it’s-.”

“I know,” I interrupted, exasperated. “You can’t freak out, alright? I’m already freaking out, and we both can’t freak out, because that won’t work.”

“Right,” she said, quietly, clearing her throat. “Sorry, I just…holy shit.” She took the ring into her fingers and examined it as if it was a long lost family treasure. “How much does something like this cost?”

I shrugged. “No idea. A fortune, I’m guessing. And I really don’t want to guess.”

She was looking at it and suddenly her eyes were on mine. “We should sell it and take a world wide cruise! Probably take a couple laps on the bad boy. I wonder how many carats it is?”

I took it back from her, tucking it safely away in my pocket again. “Five, and no, I need to get it back to him. There’s no way I can keep this thing.”

She sighed, letting her head fall back against the headrest. “I know, but you could have let me imagine it for a few minutes.”

I snorted but didn’t say much else.

“Congratulations,” she said as we got closer to my parents’ house. “You’re officially married to a rockstar.”

I dropped my head into my hands again. “What the hell am I going to do?”

She chuckled. “I have no idea, but I have to tell you, you exceeded my expectations.”

My eyes slid to her. “What do you mean?”

“When I told you I was taking you to Vegas for your birthday, I was hoping you’d let your hair down and let loose for once. Get a life and give mankind another chance. But this is a whole new level of crazy you’ve ascended to. Do you really have a tattoo?”

“Yes.”

“Of his name?”

I sighed and nodded.

“Where, might I inquire?”

I shut my eyes tight. “My left asscheek.”

Joey lost it, laughing so hard that tears were streaming down her face.

I’m glad one of us found my current situation funny.

Because as my childhood home came into view, already surrounded by paparazzi, I knew that my life as I knew it was over.

My father was going to kill me.

[weirdsimsinhistory]

My Pros and Cons of Sims 2

Been over 2 months since my Sims 1 post! Sims 2 is up this time: *Disclaimer* man, I am biased. I really like Sims 2. But i'll try to think of what I like and don't like about it (these are just my personal feelings when playing the game)

What I love about Sims 2:

-Expansion Packs, like Sims 1, continued to pack a punch. I always felt like I was getting my money's worth with all the new gameplay and objects that came with them. I ended up getting all 7 EPs, and Apartment Life and FreeTime were my favorites (the Stuff Pack I love most is Mansion and Garden!) -There was a lot of silly humor, the animations were fun, and it felt like a polished game. -Obviously, to this day TS2 continues to have plenty of new mods and CC made for it, which is so great! I have been playing TS2 since it first came out and I can keep coming back to the game with new things and I love that. -I like the voices for the adults and elders in the game. -It was awesome to be able to use Sim City 4 to create new maps/worlds to import into Sims 2! -TS2 is great for building buildings and lots. I mean really fleshing them out. The graphics and CC for TS2 can make for a relatively realistic feel to the game and objects/Sims. TS2 is my favorite for just building all sorts of buildings and environments.

What's not my faves about Sims 2:

-I get frustrated looking through Build/Buy mode looking for objects based on a specific Expansion Pack per category. Sims 3 had the right idea by letting you filter what you've got by EP. Sims 2 gives you that option under "Collections", but it pulls up everything (walls/floors, objects etc.) and sometimes I just want to scroll through, for example, sculptures but look for some from Mansion or Garden, etc. -It really is tiring to have your Friendship meter go down with other Sims so fast (at least it feels fast for me!) Even when I used cheats, I can keep setting my Sims relationship with a non-playable friend to 100 but that non-playable Sim will still have their side of the meter go down over time. I appreciated Sims 3 letting the friendship meter be mutually upped with cheats on both sides. Sometimes I don't want my Sim to spend all weekend calling 15 Sims to catch up! -This one I hesitate to include as a "con" as this is more so something that annoyed me before Sims 3 came along: I wish Sims could visit other Sims' homes and walk/drive freely to other Lots. In the 2004-2013 era (that's when I didn't have Sims 3) I found myself daydreaming about how nice it would be to not have to site around while the game loads another Lot. Really, the only thing I wish nowadays is that you could visit another Sims house, even with the loading time still around. I would be fine with that. But I don't really like saying TS2 is "less good" for not having that option, especially if it was due to the game being older/from a time where that wouldn't have been feasible to program! -Would have LOVED if Pets were controllable. I felt like there wasn't that much to do with them after a while, especially if I wanted my dog/cat to be the one to instigate something. Kinda similar with Toddlers. There wasn't much interaction options with them, and I would have liked to see kids and teens have more interactions with toddlers. -Open for Business issue: a lot of times, customers will first come into my business and try to come behind the counter/cash register as that's where they default for the game to understand that they have "arrived" on the Lot. Really annoying to have them hang out back there! They also get pissed if they can't access certain rooms that are designated for "household and employees only". Additionally, they frequently try to start conversations with my cashier, which makes them leave their post and customers get mad waiting in line at the register. Lastly....SO MANY PEOPLE KEEP PLAYING HACKY SACK AND WATER BALOON FIGHTS while at my shops! I have to constantly ask them to go away. Hard to come up with too many more without sounding nit-picky. Ultimately, some of my cons in my mind are just a matter of the game not being able/programmed to do certain things, either due to the time constraints when developing it, or the time period of programming meant it wasn't feasible to implement. I hands down love TS2. It's easy to pick up and play, I personally get a kick out of my game glitching and sometimes being corrupted (a baby with a college degree? HECK YEAH! lol), and there's so much incredible CC out there that I hardly ever run out of new things to try. I love it for fueling my love to design buildings. I no question gave nostalgia for the game as this was the golden age of Simming for me. I was in high school when the game came out, I had the energy and time to invest myself for hours playing the game, and in a lot of ways it helped inspire me to learn more about architecture/design and architectural history. Which, ultimately, is what I do for a job now! yay! What about you guys? What do you like and not like? What about those of you who didn't grow up with the game and are playing it now? I would imagine there'd be a different perspective for those who maybe started with Sims 3 or 4, and would Sims 2 feel a little archaic in comparison...?

[tsarinastorm]

AA:Ashes to Ashes-Adam Sackler/Reader-Chapter 1

Rating: Explicit, eventual Smut

This is my attempt at a slow burn, sorry if it’s bad!

Summary:  You meet Jessa at AA and quickly become friends. She introduces you to her boyfriend, Adam, who it turns out you have a lot in common with. Always a girls’ girl you’ll have to choose between friendship and love.

       As usual, everyone went around the room introducing themselves and explaining their issues, you instantly regretted being there but it was for the best. While not a typical addict or alcoholic, you had been mixing alcohol and Xanax, even though you knew better. It began as only drinking during social events, then it became drinking every night, then it quickly developed into drinking every night and using Xanax to sleep. Your therapist suggested going to AA groups to talk to others about your problems, and to ‘socialize.’

           It was getting harder to resist the urge to drink and pop a few pills. But you did it to yourself. You had insisted on moving yourself to New York City, taking a job that was lower pay and cutting back your own hours to work on your writing. Now you did mostly contract-drafting work, and were just covering your rent, bills, and general expenses. You had to sell some of your clothes to consignment shops, and tutor some high school students for extra cash. But you thought it was worth the risk to follow your dreams. You were saving money by staying in a small studio apartment in East Village, and while it was tiny, it allowed to save some of your earnings. You were working on polishing your first manuscript to send to publishers.

           Everyone concludes introducing themselves, including you, then a woman comes in late. She is a blonde with a British accent, and after taking a look around, she may be the only normal one here. Apparently she thinks the same, because she comes over to talk to you after the meeting is over.

           “It’s good to not be the only pretty woman in here, and you look relatively normal.” She says and you nod your head in agreement. You say back, “Yeah some of them look like they’ve been rode hard and put away wet.”

           “I’m Jessa, wanna not stay here and get hit on by that guy,” She says as she gestures towards a big man standing over to side who’s eyeing you both suspiciously. That could get weird.

           That’s how you became friends with Jessa. The two of you would go grab food after each meeting, and she was pretty much an open book. You were surprised and entertained by her life stories, you told her that she should write a book, a memoir. You could tell that she put up a front to hide some inner vulnerability but who didn’t. She would talk about her former friends, then her boyfriend, named Adam, and what an ‘amazing’ connection they had. But you had never once seen him, or heard from him, he was enigma and it made you wonder about their relationship. She also said that he was her friend Hannah’s ex-boyfriend. The whole situation seemed strange to you, and you were suddenly grateful that you didn’t have that drama in your life.

********

In your third week of hanging out, when the two of you went shopping, or more specifically window shopping, she was talking about her last encounter with college. She told you that she did want to be a therapist but then she dropped out of school because it wasn’t for her. You tried to encourage her that there are other ways to help people with their lives that don’t involve school, and there were non-traditional routes.

“I just feel like I could really help other people so much but I’m not cut out for school,” Jessa says as she moves her hands dramatically while speaking. You listen before saying, “You could be a life coach or something, that stuff doesn’t usually require a degree. You just need to know how to sell yourself, find somebody to guide you in the business.”

           As you take another bite of your salad, you can see that Jessa is appraising your suggestion. She pulls out a cigarette, then her eyes light up. She gets excited and exclaims, “That is a great idea! I’m so good at making people buy into my bullshit and telling them what to do!”

           “Happy to help!” You say, then you start look up the process for how to be a life coach. This was a much-needed distraction from your daily life and your own stress. For some reason, you were much better about giving other people advice than following it on your own, maybe that’s why you became friends with Jessa in the first place.

***********

           Then, the following week was the time she took mushrooms, accidentally this time, and called you to pick her up from the party in the Garment District. You were trying to finish the draft of a contract when she called but you considered yourself a girls’ girl and would feel guilty if something happened to her.

Before you knew it, you were making your way there. You find the address from the drop-pin she sent you. As you walked in you noticed that the party’s attendees were the hippy type, dressed in tie dye, with marijuana growing around the place, yet still fashion hippies because they had on designer duds. The apartment was in an eclectic loft, and was filled with people. It didn’t bother you, it was just tightly packed, and was making you feel claustrophobic. You try not to stare at people, just look for Jessa. A couple guys made a few off-hand comments, but you ignored them, looking for your friend. Then your eyes settle on a blonde sitting across the room.

           Jessa was sitting in a corner, and you went up to her. You asked her, “Can you walk? This will be a lot easier if you can walk?”

           “I can’t feel my legs. Y/N, fuck I have never felt this good.” Is her answer. Her attitude made you instantly wish you would have ignored her phone call. She should have called her boyfriend or one of her friends that wasn’t busy. Frustrated, you pick her up, she stands, and then she takes a step forward. She is mumbling about something, you place her arms over your shoulder and head out, weaving through the crowd. Once outside, you hail a cab, then Jessa decides that she won’t go and stand stubbornly outside. You really don’t have time for this, so your anger boils over.

“Fine, call your damn boyfriend or whoever else you have, because I am done!” You shout, and throw your hands in the air in an act of disgust. You mentally decide to get in the cab and go back to your apartment to resume your work. As you go to step inside the cab, you hear Jessa speak.

           “Wait, Y/N, I don’t have anybody else, okay?” Jessa says, and you help get her in the cab and scoot her over so you can get in as well. She’s able to give the driver her address. As soon as you get her up the stairs which was a task in itself and to the door of her apartment, she vomits. You audibly release a sigh and step over it, and started pounding on the door. You remember that she lived with her boyfriend, and she said he should be home. You’ll wake up the whole damn building if that’s what it takes.

           “Okay, okay! I hear you, loud fucker!” You heard a man yell before coming to answer the door. Your jaw drops when a man who’s built like a brick house, opens the door standing in his black briefs. He has amber eyes, black, long, wavy hair, amazing pecs, and your eyes can’t help but notice the bulge in the briefs. That must be the Adam, you were certainly not expecting him to look like that, and you feel a blush creep on your cheeks. You shield your eyes and push Jessa towards him.

           “What the hell happened to her?” He demands to know from you. You didn’t like the tone, so you inform him, “Jessa went to a party, took mushrooms, and then called me to come get her. I have work to do, so I assume you can take care of her.”

           He nodded in agreement, Jessa stumbled into the apartment, and you left. Now you understand why Jessa put up with him treating her like a consolation prize, and why she was willing to betray her friendship with Hannah for him. You didn’t think that you would personally do that, but you could understand it now. You also knew that you would be thinking of your friend’s boyfriend more than you wanted to.

*************************

When you were heading out of the AA meeting today with Jessa, she said that needed to grab something from her apartment first. So you follow her to her apartment, and once inside, you turn around to see Adam sitting on a yellow couch, this time he was fully clothed. Jessa heads further inside to find whatever it is that she was looking for. Adam turns to look at you, and you can feel his gaze burning through you, you decide to ignore it and admire the architecture and space in this apartment.  Besides, considering your recent interaction with him, you weren’t sure you could look at him without blushing or checking out his bulge again.

You were happy that you had chosen to wear black skinny jeans, Chelsea boots and a sleeveless white top instead of leggings and an oversized sweatshirt. Adam gets up to stand beside you, and formally introduces himself, saying, “I’m Adam, thanks for taking care of Jessa that night. Sorry I was kind of an asshole.”

“I’m Y/N. It’s no problem.” You say back as your mind goes blank when his eyes meet yours. He continues holding your eyes for some time before asking, “Are you the friend from AA?”

“I am.” You answer, feeling a bit dazed. It must be equally awkward for him to know a lot about someone without actually knowing them. Or maybe he was socially awkward like you. You felt like you knew him already from hearing Jessa’s stories. He then coolly remarks, “You don’t look like an alcoholic or addict to me.”

           “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” You fire back. A person can’t just assume who’s an addict, or who’s not.Your brow furrows and your casual smile turns into a scowl. You take back any nice things about him you had thought before. What an asshole, he can’t even know you for five minutes before insulting you.

           “Adam, don’t be an asshole,” Jessa chimes in as she strolls back into the room and glares at him. He finds a way to recover and explain himself. He states, “I meant it as a compliment. You look very put together and classy.”

           Jessa scoffs at him and eyes him hesitantly, while you chuckle. You suppose that is a twisted compliment, and you’ve been called worse. You then feel the need to explain yourself to him and add, “Yeah well drinking and the Xanax quickly turned from happening occasionally at social events to all the time to numb myself. I got help before I hit rock bottom.”

           “Good. Good for you. I started drinking as a teenager and started AA when I was seventeen. Better to catch that shit early.” He says and you listen to him contently, but before the two of you get to talk more, Jessa is rushing out the door, declaring that she’s found whatever she was here for. You shoot him a smile and wave goodbye before following Jessa out.  Adam is certainly a curious man and you want to know more about him, even though it’s against your better judgment.

“Adaptations are almost never as good as the original, end of story.” You inform Ray of your opinion. You had just met Ray earlier tonight, and he seemed to be argumentative. You never backed down from a debate, so it made things interesting. You ignored the fact that Jessa wanted to set you up with Ray, he just wasn’t your type. You’re sitting on the yellow couch with Jessa and Ray. Jessa is listening to your argument while she eats yogurt, not bothered at all. Ray thinks for a moment before he makes his next move in this game of argument chess.

           “There can be thoughtful adaptations.” Ray declares, taking a drink of his beer. You’re not convinced, so you counter with, “Yes but they generally lose the heart and soul of the original format.”

“Okay well I can see that I’m not going to win this.” Ray finally concedes. Good. Better for him to figure that out now. You take a drink of your water, and snack on some chips. You’ve been set up with worse guys, and as long as Ray takes the hint, maybe the two of you can be friends.

“I agree with Y/N.” Jessa confirms, and Ray just shakes his head. You smile smugly, triumphant that you’ve won the argument. Then, Adam walks through the door, looks surprised to see all of you there, continues heading into the kitchen. He gets a drink from the fridge before joining the group of you on the couch, he points at you and adds, “I agree with her, adaptations are shit!”

           You smile at him, and he smiles back. You’re happy he agrees, because if not you would have to seriously question his taste, and put him the group with Ray. From what Jessa’s told you about him, he’s obviously cultured and has good taste, even though he doesn’t outwardly show it and in spite of outward eccentricity. During the movie, Ray heads out to take a phone call while Jessa goes to the restroom, leaving you alone with Adam.  And you actually has butterflies in stomach just from being alone with him, you feel like you’re fourteen again. Inwardly scolding yourself for feeling this way, you keep your eyes fixed on the television screen. You don’t know what to say, so you wait for him to make a move. Or who knows, the two of you might sit in weird silence until someone walks back into the room. Luckily, you don’t have to wait long to see how it’s going to go.

           “What do you do?” He asks trying to get the conversation started and end the tension in the room. He glances at you, and takes some chips from the bowl.

           “I’m an attorney, but I don’t do typical court work. I do the drafting and back work. That gives me flexibility to work on my writing on the side.” You says as you take another drink from your glass, and you notice that you’re each moving towards each other subconsciously. Or consciously, who knows. Adam chuckles, then jokes by saying, “Well I don’t have good luck with writers.”

           “Well I don’t have good luck with tall strangers. What do you do? You’re an actor, right?” You say back, not fazed at all by his bad joke, and you see relief wash over him. He cocks a half-smile, you admire his dimples that are now showing. And you mentally control yourself, because you cannot get a crush on your friend’s boyfriend.

“I am an actor.” He says in a drawn out voice, and you can’t tell if he did that intentionally or if he’s just nervous.  He definitely doesn’t strike you as a shy, or introverted guy.

“That’s why you have strong opinions on content forms then.” You say and the two of you continue talking about books, poems, movies and music you like. You find out that you and Adam have similar, but not identical tastes. As Ray and Jessa trickle back into the conversation while Adam is asking you about your trivia talents. Adam stuns you and everyone else in the room by saying, “Fuck, you’re the smartest person I’ve ever met.”

“You’re not too bad yourself. Brawn and brain,” You tease back as Adam tries to hide his blush, which you find adorable. You also know that you’re probably blushing too so you move your face to hide it. Then you remember that Jessa is right there and you worry you might have crossed the line. Self-consciously and slowly you scoot back over across to the other side of the couch, leaving plenty of room for Jessa, and you pat the space beside you. Jessa seems unaffected, and it seems you’re being self-conscious for nothing, she sits down. She puts her arm around your shoulder, saying, “Adam’s right. You are insanely smart, and kind. And you have fantastic skin.”

You blush and you can see Adam watching you out of the corner of your eye. Jessa moves in closer to you and starts telling you about the current state of her future life-coaching business. You listen to her as intently as you can but your thoughts wonder to Adam, then you guilt yourself because you know you shouldn’t think of him at all.

************************************************************************

Adam was walking out of Ray’s coffee shop with his typical, normal coffee. None of that fancy new age coffee that so many people drink nowadays. He’s been in a bit of downward spike lately, he knows he needs to audition for more parts and submit some of his writing to directors. He’s working on what he thinks is a lame indie film, but the pay is decent and the director is well-respected so he supposes he should suffer through the script. Though he’s considered walking out several times.

When he’s getting ready to head to the door, he sees Y/N walk in. She waves at him, and he finds himself smiling and waving back at her. She’s wearing a red sheath dress and heels, carrying a huge tote bag. How does she manage to look hot while still looking like a boss? Adam remembers that she’s an attorney so she’s probably way out of his league, and she’s Jessa’s friend. Once she gets her order, she sits a table that’s in the corner near the street, and motions for him to join her since he’s still standing by the door probably looking like an idiot.

           He knows he should probably just politely decline her offer, but instead he goes to sit down across from her. He felt a connection with her the other day when they talked about books, and things they were passionate about. Adam thinks he might as well accept he’s hooked on this girl, at least to some degree. After he sits, he asks, “Are you going to work? I don’t want to distract you.”

           “I’m mostly editing and listening in on video calls today. What about you? I mean I know actors and artists don’t have a normal schedule but are you working today?” She says as she takes a drink of her coffee and takes her pastry out of the bag.

           “I’ve been working on this indie film and it’s very frustrating.” Adam admits before he remembers that he doesn’t really know Y/N that well, and that she probably doesn’t care about his life.

           “Is it good for your reputation or at least good pay?” Y/N asks and sounds genuinely interested. Adam thinks back to the intensive conversation that he had with her a few nights ago, and knows that she gets it. She thinks about art, literature, and expression. So he opens up.

           “It’s good for both. It’s just everything else about it is a shitshow. And fucking mediocre,” Adam says. Y/N then continues making her point by saying, “Well stick it out for the credit then you can be pickier about your projects.”

           “That’s good advice. Thanks.” He tells her and she pulls out her laptop to get to work, when he gathers himself to leave, she stops him. “Company wouldn’t bother me…If you don’t have somewhere else to be.”

           Adam sits back down, content to hang around her.  He sees that she has a copy of Forster’s short stories and Emile Zola’s Therese Raquin in her bag. He can’t hold back from commenting, after all he does have a comp lit degree. He motions toward them, saying, “Interesting choices. Let me know what you think of them.”

“I like Forster’s description of sexuality and sensuality. This is my first brush with Zola though, so I’ll save my commentary when I’m better read.” She smiles and it looks like her whole face lights up. Adam can’t look away from her.

He barely knows her and yet he feels like he’s known her all of his life. He’s able to talk to her about things that he could never bring up around Jessa, and forgot what it was like to have a real connection to someone. He and Y/N sit there for hours, talking art, writing, and inspirations. He opens up about his past relationships, Y/N already knew that he dated Hannah, who was Jessa’s friend. Adam chose to leave out the part where he went back to Hannah to offer to raise her child with her. He knew how embarrassing it sounded now, and maybe Jessa had already told her that.

           She opened up to him about her writing: short stories and children’s books, though she wanted to do more. She told him about how hard it was when she first moved to the city, and about the ex who got her to mix alcohol and Xanax. She talks about her dysfunctional family, and the friends she’s made in the city. When it’s time to go, Adam finds himself following her outside the shop, not wanting to separate from her.

           Outside the door, he stops her to ask, “Can we do that again?”

           “Sure. That is what friends do.” She says before she heads on her way. Adam’s never really had friends before but he still feels like this was more than friendship.

[nad-zeta]

Match up ｡◕‿◕｡

Hello, may I get a ikemen vampire match please! :D PHYSICAL FEATURES: 5'5", long straight black hair (past the shoulders, but not past the chest), light brown skin, beauty mark on my left cheek almost adjacent to nostril, "fiery" brown almond shaped eyes and a little bit of a thicker eyebrows, body figure: close to a pear shape or an hourglass (I really can't distinguish the difference between the two when it comes to my body).

PERSONALITY: I tend to be down to earth when I need to be, but to be honest my head is always in the clouds and I have a habit to look forward to the future rather than to focus on the present. People would tend to think I am strong and could be a good leader, but I think they hold this perception because I am confident in myself and strong willed. In actuality I hate to lead others, rather I like to help everyone else with their vision or goals. I am also someone who finds positivity in many situations, but sometimes pessimistic (or just pure procrastination) gets the better of me, but I have no worries when this happens because I becone my own motivator. Big dreamer and occasionally a romantic (when the mood is right). Also, I have had my shares of being shut out during conversationsor have noticed people wanting to be a part of a group or to be inclusive in some manner, due to these experiencesand observations I found myselfalways wanting to make sure everyonehas had their voice spoken and listened to. As a direct influence to my personality on how I want everyone to have a voice and to be listened to I became someonewho enjoyed being the listener and the observer in the group. I have recently taken the Bridge Myer Test and it said I am and INFP (which I believe describes me fairly well).

HOW WOULD I ACT IN A RELATIONSHIP: I love to listen to others and observe their reactions, understanding who they are on a deeper level, this only further my understanding of my love language: which is quality time. Just spending time with the person I love and listening to them while they interchangeably listen to me is my ultimate high. Even enjoying each others company and not saying a word sits well in my heart, as long as we are enjoying ourselves. I am not a level 10 PDA person, but to be honest I wouldn't mind having someone who is expressive in that area (as long as I am given space afterwards), to be honset I may even enjoy it. At the start of a relationship I tend to have rose colored glasses on max as I pursue someone I like, but as they admit their emotions they hold for me and the lovely valentine styled scene shatters and I begin to see everything more clearly. Instantly I tend to only want a relationship of friendship to grow between us, which becomes a better outcome as I can grow to love the confesser as the person they really are and actually develop genuine love and not just a crush or lust.

MORE INFO ABOUT ME: I am currently studying architecture and I love the arts. Hobbies of mine is to expand my herb garden, go jogging, go white water rafting, learn to roller skate (still a beginner), learn to paddle board (still a dream of mine to even start this hobbie), help my dad pick vegtables from the garden, and feed our sheep. I tend to take the beaten path when traveling, shopping, or finding a place to eat. Also for a little fun for this match-up, I'm minoring in Medevial Renaissance in hopes to use my degree to go to Europe or Japan and restore old castles or buildings. Speaking about traveling, I love areas that heavy on history, culture, and connected towards nature (some areas that come to mind is Scotland, New Orleans Louisiana, Savannah Georgia, Montana, Italy, Greece, ect.). Some of my other invests would be: enjoying horror, mystery, psychologically teasing movies and books, murder podcasts, history documentaries (especially history documentaries that involves the involvement of phantoms, occult, witchcraft, voodoo,.ect) paranormal YouTubevideos, I love to go antiquing, and enjoy exploringthe food world (while I also improvemy skill in cooking), and I enjoy indie pop music and recently found myself loving songs with a twist of blues.

Hi hi love! 🌻❤Thank you so much for the request and sorry for taking so long with it! I hope you have a super good day, sending lots of hugs! ❤☺Hope ya enjoy it! ❤☺ @100christy

 So I match you with.................. Comte

  The first time you met the legend, Saint Germain de Comte was during one of your classes minoring in the Medieval Renaissance. They had gotten in a very handsome man with gold, dusty coloured hair and timeless golden eyes, to guest speak during one of the lectures. He spoke with a sense of a knowing grace about alchemy, the traditions, cultures and history of that time. He had encaptivated all the students; all eyes were on him as everyone hung onto his every word. He elegantly walked about the lecture hall speaking as if he had, had a first account of the event being described and that is when his eyes locked with yours. His golden eyes were gleaming in the rays of the afternoon sun, piercing down into the depths of your soul, and that is when this mysterious man stole your heart. And little known to you, the second this man saw your fiery brown almond eyes, his breath caught in his throat and he found that for the first time in his immortal life, his heart had been stolen right from under his nose.

For the rest of his lecture, you were off in the clouds, far away from reality, in fact by the time you had come back down to earth the lesson was over and all the students were on their feet to leave. You caught a glance of the golden man’s coat that he had forgotten laying on the front desk. Suddenly you felt the urge to chase after him. You trailed behind the blond man, hoping to catch up to him to deliver him his coat back. You followed him all the way to some fancy museum when you lost sight of him as he disappeared through a large wooden door. There was a mystical air about the door and sounding area, and as a travel and mystery lover, you couldn’t help but follow after the man. The room around you changed from crips white museum walls, to an old victorian style room filled to the brim with the most fascinating antiques. You wished nothing more than to explore the house filled with the most curious nicknacks, but you pushed on to find the man to return him the coat.

You were suddenly startled when the very man that you were trying to track down, appeared behind you and tapped you on the shoulder, “Are you looking for me, Ma Cherie.” You got a freight but relaxed the second you caught sight of his gentle smile.

“Found you! You forgot your coat in class, so I thought I might return it to you.” He smiled down tenderly at you as he gently took the coat from your hands, “I hope you didn’t go through to much trouble to get this back to me my dear,” He then carefully took your hand and laid a chaste kiss on it, “would you like to join me in the garden from some tea, Ma Cherie. I would like to do at least something to thank you for going through all that trouble.” A sad smile crossed his face as he gently took your hand in his and led you to the garden signalling for the butler to bring the two of you some tea and snacks to the gazebo out in the lush, vibrant garden.

Comte couldn’t help but smile a fond smile down at you as you excitingly examined his herb garden. He crouched down beside you and gushed all about his little plants he had nursed from seedling, and you couldn’t help but smile up at the man. His timeless old face had tuned youthful as he raved all about the herbs and how his butler uses them in their meals. He even offered you a little patch to start your own, and before you could decline, he dropped the “you will be here for one-month” bomb. And that is how your relationship with the pureblood started.

In the weeks to follow you and Comte spent a significant amount of time together from travelling around the province to visit every antique shop insight to doing a bit of gardening together.

As it was, the two of you shared a common love language, and that would be quality time, and as such, every free moment the two of you got, was spent together. Comte is very much a busybody and has many different friends in different places, so its no surprise when he invites you along to travel with him. Once he is done with his business the two of your travel around the area going sightseeing, from looking at different castles to discovering all that is to be known about French architecture of the late 19th century. In fact, sometimes your travels expand even out of Paris to neighbouring provinces and areas.

When the two of you aren’t off travelling the world together, you are back at the mansion just enjoying each others company. Sometimes the two of you would simply be in the same room together each busy with their own task while enjoying the company of the other presence.

As time passes the two of you become relatively close friends, Comte knows you have to go back in a month, and he wouldn’t dare ask you to give up your life in the future for him. So he cherishes every moment spent in the past with you. He knows his heart will be broken in two when the day comes, but he is determined to do what it takes to make you happy. After all, you are the love of his life, whether you know it or not. This man fell in love with you the moment he first met you, and after spending countless days with you, that love has only grown.

He loves how strong-willed and confident you are, giving all the men and woman at the fancy banquets a run for their money. He loves how much you have helped the fellow residents subtly realize their visions and goals and have helped them to grow. He especially loves the way you include everyone in your conversations. You're a truly kind and caring soul, and he can't help but deeply cherish you. So he does the only thing he can do while you are still with him….. he spoils you. This man loves to buy gifts for you, and he WILL buy you anything and everything your heart desires.

And through your time spent the golden pureblood, you have come to realize that somewhere along the line you stopped seeing him as a friend and instead saw him as a potential partner. Your rose coloured glasses were shattered, as you had come upon that realization one night during one of the balls. You were dancing with Comte and couldn’t help but beam at the carefree smile he wore, and at that moment you realized you wanted to spend the rest of your life seeing that carefree smile. You realized that your feeling had gone beyond some measly crush or just lust, but that you truly loved him as a best friend, dare I say, soul mate. You were now determined to make your feelings know.

You confessed your feeling to Comte one sunny afternoon while the two of you went white water rafting. After making your way down the river, the two of you landed up in a still lake in the middle of the forest. The two of you had found this river a while back while you were hiking after you had insisted on taking the beaten path. On the waters of the crystal clear still water you looked up into Comte's golden eyes and confessed your love. To say this man was delighted would be an understatement. Gentlemanly as always he gently took hold of your hand and kissed it, while stating that he felt the exact same way.

The two fo you cuties were inseparable, always off together doing some or other fun activity. Comte loved that you had so many varies hobbies, and he truly enjoyed participating in each and every one of these hobbies. Be it jogging, or rollerskating he was always keen to try new things.

His favourite of your hobbies would have to be shopping and discovering new places to eat. If the two of you aren’t doing something active, you are out in the town buying everything in sight and trying variouse new restaurants. It has actually become a lunchtime tradition for Comte to seek you out and escort you into town where the two of you would have lunch together at a new café.

The two of you have a very open and honest relationship that has been built on the best foundation….. Friendship. Comte absolutely loves those quieter moments with you nestled against his chest as the two of you talk about anything and everything. He loves that you actually listen to and try and, understand who he is on a deeper level.

He is at his happiest when he is just spending time with you and listening to you as you interchangeably listen to him as well. Speaking of, you absolutely love picking this man’s brain about cultures and history, and he loves nothing more than to tell you story upon story of historical events that he has lived through and witnessed first hand. This man lives for that excited expression on your face whenever the two of you talk history, culture and how it is connected to nature. And oooh when comte found out you liked mysteries and stories about the paranormal (phantoms, occult, witchcraft, voodoo,etc), he was all too pleased to spill the tea and even do some research on the topics together with you.

All and all the two of you have a lot of fun together, whether its out exploring the world or spending a quiet night in simply nestled in each other's arms exchanging words of love. Comte will spend every day of your mortal life cherishing you. And every day of your immortal life together showering you with an endless amount of love and affection. After all, he is at his happiest when you are happy, his dearest soul mate

Other Potential matches………………… Dazai 

I hope you enjoyed this love and have the best day!❤☺🥰

[hobiwonder]

Baby, Baby | 01

Pairing: Jimin x Reader x Taehyung

Genre: Surrogacy AU

Warnings: Smut (future), Fluff. A bit of Angst. 

Words: 12k

Summary: When you’ve run out of savings to continue on to the last semester of your Bachelors - you take an unorthodox route. Helping a desperate couple have a child and getting paid for it? Heck yeah. But what do you know - it wasn’t as easy as it sounds.

A/N: thanks to @jurassicjimin for being a sweetie and helping me edit ily :(( this fic was getting long so i decided to split it in a couple of parts but it will most likely be 3 chapters max. i hope everyone likes this as i kind of had to rewrite the whole thing and it may not be as eloquent as the one i spent longer time on hjerfvuekhbfkejbf anyway feedback is always appreciated :)

Part 2 |

“Miss Y/N?”

“Huh? Yes?” The receptionist smiled gently at your vacant expression as you were sure you probably looked like you were lost instead of the planning you had been doing for weeks to prepare yourself for this very day.

“We’re ready for you now.” You stood up, smoothing your skirt as much as you could with the thin fabric stubbornly creased just below your hips from sitting down. You had told yourself that you would pay more attention to your posture and the nervous squirming you usually did when… well; when you were nervous as hell. But of course, your own advice was the one you mostly adhered to the least.

“Right this way,” The nice middle aged lady led you towards large wooden double doors. The place was modern, sleek, rustic and most of all – screamed money, all at once. You weren’t sure how many architectural structures could be squashed in to one at the same time and look good as well. But you guessed that money always looked good.

No wonder youdidn’t.

She smiled her gentle smile at you as she opened one of the doors and letting you enter first. You mumble a thanks before glancing towards the back of two heads you could see from where you stood. One blonde, the other black. They sat on a large three-seater sofa while a love couch – which made you snort internally given the circumstances – was placed across from them. Just then, Solhyun – the consultant looking after your case – glanced up from her seat.

“Ah! Y/N come on in, yeah,” She nodded encouragingly as you took small, quiet steps – thanks to your flats – towards the couch that you assumed was going to be where you sat, facing the other two men. Speaking of; they had also stood up with Solhyun as she waited for you to come forward.

“Hello,” You went for a handshake but Solhyun pulled you into a gentle hug.

“How are you?” She asks as her greeting with a bright smile on her face, not waiting for you to respond before she is introducing the most important people – and the ones you’d been nervous as hell to meet.

You wished you had been given a bit more time to get used to the two men before you. Sure, you’d been given their profiles – albeit with limited information as you’d been told that they preferred to meet in person for every meeting, wanting to be heavily involved with the process. But man, you didn’t expect the two men you had decided to be a surrogate for to be this… striking.

“This is Mr. Park Jimin.” The blonde man, shorter than his partner stretched out his hand, placing his left on his elbow as a polite gesture. His hands were incredibly soft, just like the rest of him. Well, you didn’t feel him or anything but he just looked soft. Everything about him was soft – in a more metaphorical sense more than anything – as his eyes turned into slight crescent moons when he smiled gently at you. His lips were fuller than yours, fingers adorned in shiny rings, neck framed by a YSL necklace that you know costed more than your rent for a week. Your breath hitched as his cologne hit your nasal cavity causing you to breathe deeply like a creep. The blush creeping up your cheeks turned your body temp slightly up a notch when you saw the stunning man before you also took in your attire that contrasted his own expensive one. Where the fabric he wore was all silk and rich woven wool – yours were linen and cheap cotton.

“N-Nice to meet you, sir.” You notice the other man’s – taller and broader of the two – eyes flash slightly before his expression is turning into a more stoic one again. Not unkind, just more formal and probably fitting for the arrangement you were all about to make. Or you hoped would make. You really needed this to work out.

“Please, call me Jimin, Y/N.” Your frame stalls for a millisecond at the way your name falls from his lips. You never liked your name more than you did at this moment and tried to convince yourself it wasn’t because Jimin had said it.

“Mr. Kim Taehyung, Jimin’s partner.” Solhyun introduces the more intimidating looking man as he also stretches out his hand as well – also adorned in rings like his partner – while nodding at you.

“Nice to meet you, sir.” Unlike Jimin – he doesn’t ask you to call him Taehyung and you sense he may be have been the partner who was apprehensive about getting a surrogate as you had been informed that the couple that had been matched with you were having some second thoughts. You remember that day had been kind of hell for you.

You weren’t getting matched with anyone after giving an interview and having your portfolio made and it was going to be a major setback for you if you weren’t able to find a couple who needed a surrogate with your criteria. But when Solhyun had contacted you that she had found a couple – more so, they had found you – and specifically wanted to meet you to discuss a potential surrogacy, you’d been ecstatic and wanting to throw up at the same time.

As much as you made a rational, calculated decision, the reality of actually going through with it was something else altogether. Maybe part of you had thought that you would never even find anyone since not many people were keen on conceiving a child with someone who had a family history of breast cancer. You probably wouldn’t even be in this situation if it weren’t for your mother passing away from breast cancer at a young age and leaving you to your own devices. It wasn’t as if you had any other family to ask for any type of help. So when the house you had inherited had been put up for sale to pay for your college fees, you truly had nothing.

As much as it had been hard parting with the house you had grew up in and had countless memories with your mum; it was something you had decided when your mother had passed away. You were seventeen and in your State, legally able to inherit the house and make decisions regarding it just like your mother had also given you power of attorney when her health had deteriorated. Selling the house had been the best and worst decision at the same time. You had never seen that much money in your whole life when you’d received the check but on the other hand, you had a bitter reality check when you had ended up going through most of it with college fees, rent and daily expenses in general. It was as if the more you worked, the more money you needed.

The apartment you lived in may be a shoebox – but it was enough for you. And now, reaching the homestretch of your undergraduate, you were 20 grand short with only the last semester of your degree left.

When you had been accepted in to one of the more prestigious universities, it hadn’t seemed so impossible to actually go through with it since you had a fat check - not the fattest, just fat enough – in your bank, ready to go. After grieving the death of the only family you ever had, it had seemed that better days would never come. But at that time, holding the acceptance letter in your hand – you had felt that things might work out after all. Though, good things never really lasted long for you. And here you were. Willing to go to extreme lengths when you were just so, so close to the finish line.

“Well now that the introductions are out of the way, shall we discuss the arrangement?”

Clearing your throat, you nod, smoothing your skirt before sitting down. Seeing the way all of them were dressed was making you slightly more self-conscious of your own attire. Just a little. You try to keep your eyes on Solhyun as she begins to pull out papers from a manila folder but can’t help and glance towards the blonde – Jimin. He doesn’t hide that he is staring at you but a small, friendly smile is still painted on his face so it doesn’t bother you too much. Apart from the blush that has just took a liking to your cheeks, you are sure you aren’t making a fool of yourself and looking like a lovestruck teenager.

Taehyung however – his expression is stoic. He doesn’t say anything else to you or even look at you like Jimin is. Which was probably for the best. You weren’t sure you could handle two impossibly handsome men looking at you at once. Not that it would matter, you sigh internally. They obviously have no interest in the opposite sex otherwise you wouldn’t be here.

“So, y/n,” you turn your attention completely towards Solhyun as she speaks directly to you.

“Mr Park and Mr Kim would very much like to conceive a child with you.” You almost flinch at her straight forward statement but you guessed that in these types of situations, it was probably for the best.

You can’t help the slightly diameter of your eyes when you look back at the two men. “But a-are you sure? I have a family h-” Internally your brain is screaming and throwing popcorn at you. You’re supposed to be selling yourself to them you idiot! Not make them doubt their decision.

“History of breast cancer?” Jimin has already cut you off with a raised eyebrow and a gentle smile. But this time, the smile holds a touch of sadness to it and doesn’t quite reach his beautiful eyes that had such a spark to them. “We are well aware. That doesn’t matter to us. Well, what I mean is, we don’t have too many other options at the moment.”

You search his face for any regret at choosing you because to be honest – that stupidly hurts you. That you were probably a last resort or whatever rubbish your mind is making up right now. But it doesn’t seem that way at least.

“My partner here,” he turns his face to the side to look at Taehyung before continuing, “doesn’t exactly have the most accepting family when it comes to our relationship. They want him to have children so the business can be passed along the generations. And I know, we thought about adopting.” Jimin must have seen your puzzled face as he starts to answer the exact question you had been thinking about. He was very good at reading people, you note.

“But… inconveniently, Taehyung’s father’s will states that the child needs to be biologically his own.” You lock eyes with Taehyung, feeling like a thousand butterflies are flying around inside your stomach at the intensity in his eyes.

“And I… I have always wanted children. Having one that is related to the love of my life would be a dream come true.”

The smile that he sends your way is so bright, so full of love that you feel the tears of longing welling up but you push them back, not about to make a fool of yourself. The way Taehyung is looking at Jimin speak – anyone in the room who was watching them would be able to tell how much in love they were.

“We have been looking for so long but there wasn’t anyone that we could find at this time. But by some miracle, Solhyun told us about you as soon as you had applied. We are aware of your family history but we have contacted our GP and consulted with him. He says that our child can be tested and screened for any potential signs and I assure you,” he leans forward, sincerity written all over his kind eyes, “we will take the best care of our child. And if – god forbid – he or she is diagnosed, we can afford the best treatment. I promise you that.”

You blink. Once. Twice. Three times. Taking in everything that Jimin had just told you. A funny feeling in your stomach each time he addressed to the child that you were going to give birth to as if he had a heartbeat already. But now you understood why someone was willing to take the risk. N matter how small it may be.

“I… I see. I believe that you probably will be able to, I have no doubt.” You give him a reassuring smile, hoping to put him at ease and he mirrors it right back.

“So, do you wish to proceed with the contract after hearing the specifics?” Solhyun interjects when she sense that both you and the couple have understood each other. You nod as Jimin shoots Taehyung a smile and interlocks their fingers together, placing them in his lap. You can’t help but watch the two from the corner of your eyes. The love they had was so conspicuous that even when they weren’t displaying their affections – it was hard to not come to that conclusion yourself.

“Right. The contract will be for 12 months starting from the day of conception – not literally, that just means the day you are confirmed to be pregnant. All of your medical costs will of course be covered by Mr Kim and Mr Park themselves as well as both or at least one of them being present at each of your OB/GYN appointments. All expenses during your pregnancy will be paid by them as well, including but not limited to: Nutrition and health, housing, clothing and in any case there is an injury. You will receive half of the sum upon signing the contract and the rest of the payment of your surrogacy when the baby is safely delivered. In any case you are to miscarry, and it is concluded that the complications were not brought upon by avoidable circumstances, you will be paid in full. You will not have any contact with the child when it is born or have any parental rights after signing this contract unless agreed upon otherwise by the client. You will not have any rights to apply for custody on the basis of being a biological parent. You will not apply for further compensation from Mr Kim or Mr Park after the child’s birth. Do you have any questions?”

You kind of dumbly stare at her for a few seconds, taking everything in. Which was a lot. Both Jimin and Taehyung are looking expectantly at you. Jimin seeming to be more on edge than his partner as he squeezes his fingers in his lap. Solhyun hands you the papers of the terms and conditions she had just read out, letting you see for yourself and have a read through before you signed the contract officially. Your eyes just about bulge out of your head when you see the amount that you were to be paid was well above what you needed for college.

“F-Fifty thousand?!” the disbelief in your voice is perceived completely opposite by Jimin as he worriedly glances towards Taehyung before looking at you.

“Is that not enough? We are willing to pay you more.”

“No!” You clear your throat after embarrassingly almost shouting at them, “No, this is… this is very generous. Thank you.” The frown creasing your forehead is for once not out of sadness, but gratitude.

“No thanking yet, Y/N. We still have to sign the contract.” Solhyun sends you a smile again and she is right. You still have to sign and actually be able to conceive before you are paid in full. “I know this is a lot to take in and come to terms with. Having a child is not easy and giving it away is even harder so remember – you will have a week to think it over after signing the contract to back out if you wish to. Okay?”

You nod, appreciating that you had the option. But the prospect of being fifty grand richer, being able to finally complete your degree and have a career to sustain yourself in the long run has you feeling the minimum amount of resistance as you nod once again.

“Excellent! Sign here.” She is pointing to various pages as you continue to sign the ten page long contract and you notice that there are already two other signatures on each page. Jimin and Taehyung must have already signed the contract.

“Well, that is all now set. Y/N you will now have a week from now to send in a final response by either calling the office or replying to the email we send you. As soon as you do that, your details will be sent to Mr. Kim and Mr. Park and vice versa and your communication will be directly with them. All subsequent meetings with us will be discussed after the finalisation of the contract. Any questions?”

You’re shaking your head at her as you stand up with her. You guessed it was time for you to go. The two men also stand up, shaking your hand once more.

“Thank you, Y/N. I hope to hear from you again.” Jimin shakes your hand with both of his own, his warm hands holding on to yours for a little longer than before.

“As do I.” Taehyung’s deep, mellifluous voice is almost entrancing and you find yourself looking anywhere but at his eyes, afraid that somehow he’ll be able to tell how nervous you were. His long fingers grip your hand in a solid handshake like they had previously. Stuttering a goodbye, you race out of the room, closing the wooden door behind you and heading straight towards the reception to get a copy of the contract for yourself like Solhyun had asked you to before you left. The whole time you’re waiting for the documents to be scanned and printed, your feet are annoyingly tapping against the tiled floor with the amount of adrenaline running through your system. Even the woman scanning and getting the documentation together gives you a look when a particularly loud tap of your flats against the floor sounds through the large reception area. She seems to be taking her sweet time as well. Just as she is finally starting to compile the papers, the wooden doors open and Jimin and Taehyung are walking out, chatting amongst themselves. Taehyung, however, is wearing a frown on his face as he sighs at whatever Jimin has said to him.

When they are in hearing distance to you – you turn your whole body towards the woman stapling the papers together, almost snapping at her to be quicker. You don’t know why you feel like you need to avoid them right now when you will probably mother their child – most likely. So it was going to be a problem if you were going to always be this nervous around them. Just when you think you’ve successfully avoided them, Jimin spots you standing by the counter and puts his hand up to stop Taehyung from saying whatever he had been and walks over to you. Taehyung doesn’t look the happiest as he watches Jimin walk over to you.

“H-hi,” You can’t help the stutter when he comes to stand close to you – close enough that you can smell his heavenly cologne again. But he doesn’t seem to be in the mood for light hearted chatter when he gets straight to the point.

“I really, really hope you don’t reconsider your decision. As much as Tae didn’t seem like he wants this-” He closes his eyes for a second before opening them again and rephrasing himself, “- needs this to happen – he does. It would mean a lot to us if you can help us.”

“Jimin, babe let’s go. We’re going to be late.” Taehyung’s loud voice has Jimin pulling away and after giving you a small, hopeful smile, he waves goodbye and you do the same. It surely didn’t seem like that was the case as Taehyung almost seems annoyed at Jimin’s little pit stop at the counter with you. You watch them walk out together, hand in hand as a sleek escalade pulls up to the office and in they go.

“They’re good men. Been waiting for a while.” You glance back at the receptionist who hands you the documents – finally- and smiles at you. Everyone in this building smiled a lot.

“Oh.” You don’t exactly know what to say since you didn’t exactly know them for long but you could judge for yourself that they weren’t trying to manipulate or guilt you in to being a surrogate for them. They really did just want a child.

You decide to walk to the grocery store from the office before taking a cab home. That should cut down the fare and plus, you weren’t keen on carrying all the bags by yourself.

Today was the last day you had to think it over before giving your final decision. The whole previous week you had to stop yourself from calling the office and saying yes, forcing yourself to take the time you had and really think it over. This would be one of the biggest decisions you made in your life. While you never really thought about having kids of your own or being particularly fond of them, this was still not going to be easy if you didn’t completely make up your mind.

You weren’t stupid and knew that the bond a mother and her child form before and after birth is natural and can be hard to part with unless you make up your mind that this child is not yours and that you were merely a vessel for someone else’s baby. But you were too close to having your life together to not consider this. You would be helping a couple in need and they would be able to provide for their child. It wasn’t as if they can’t afford anything they will ever need to give it the best life.

Your inner monologue is interrupted when your phone rings. The caller ID makes your heart jump in your mouth when you see it’s Solhyun. Gathering yourself, you will your breathing to steady before you pick up the phone.

“Hi Y/N this is Solhyun speaking, how-”

“I’ll do it.” You blurt out before you can stop yourself. You want to bump your head against the wall for sounding like an idiot and cutting her off when she lets out a sound of surprise.

“Oh! That’s great. I will let Mr. Park know. We will wire half of the sum in your account today and you should receive it in the next 3-5 business days. I will also send you the details of the clinic and the date you have to be there for your artificial insemination appointment. Is that all okay?”

“Y-Yeah, of course. Thank you.”

“Alrighty then, I will forward you the couple’s details as well okay? I’ll speak to you soon, dear.”

You say goodbye, hanging up before clutching your chest finally coming to terms with the fact that you were going to be a mother to someone else’s baby. Still trying to wrap your head around the phone call you’d just had when your phone rings again. But this time, it’s an unknown caller. Your eyebrows furrow, wondering who was calling you at 9pm at night.

“Hello?”

“Y/N?” The soft voice that calls your name is unmistakably Jimin’s – and you can hear the smile in his voice as he says your name.

“Mr. P- Jimin?” Even though he can’t see you, you still try to keep a straight face. Maybe more for yourself than anything.

“Hi there. I just,” He lets out a bubbly laugh that has you smiling with him – keeping a straight face a distant thought, “I’m- We’re really, really happy that you want to continue. I just wanted to call you as soon as I could. I hope I didn’t wake you up?”

“No no, I-I was just eating pizza and watching a… I don’t really know what I was watching to be honest.” To that he laughs again.

“That’s good to hear. I just wanted to ask if you want to meet before the appointment at the clinic?”

“Oh, you know when it is?”

“We were emailed the details just now. Sorry, as you can tell, I’m a bit excited.” His nervous chuckle tells you he’s worried that he might make you uncomfortable but you assure him that it’s alright.

“I understand and yes that would be good I think. When would you like to meet?”

“Is Wednesday okay? The appointment is on Friday and that’s the only day I can steal Taehyung away before the appointment.” The mention of Taehyung has you feeling hot all over again. You’re not sure what but when it comes to him, you always want to just shrink in place. Something about the way he looks at you makes you want to stand out as less as possible. Not that he was unkind or mean or anything. He just… didn’t seem as enthusiastic about this as his partner, despite being the one who would actually father the child.

“Yes that’s okay. Where will I be meeting you?”

“There is a bistro near Taehyung’s office that we often go to so I’ll have someone pick you up at 12 for brunch, alright?”

“A-Alright. You don’t have to.” His chuckle is playful and you could listen to it over and over.

“I know, darling. I want to.” The pet name doesn’t go unnoticed by the damn butterflies in your stomach but you will them to settle down because it’s not like it meant anything. Thankfully, they’re distracted easily that night. You both say your goodbyes and hang up. Once again, you’re clutching your heart like you’ve just run a mile. If just talking on the phone was going to have you react like this… you were in trouble.

___________________________________________________________________________

The days pass like a blur and before you know it, it’s Wednesday. Your IUI appointment was set for Friday as it was the day you started ovulating. When you’d received a call back from Solhyun to confirm that you had indeed received the appointment details, you’d made a passing comment about it being so soon – just in passing. She’d reminded you that they had your ovulation schedule on your profile – as was standard for everyone else – and conveniently, you would start ovulating this Friday so they wanted to start ASAP. Which was fine with you honestly. You were just happy that you had received the payment in your account today as well which meant you can finally pay your fees for this last semester – and on time. With every penny going towards the tuition and admission fees, you were left to bank balance of a marvellous $50 for the next two weeks until you got paid again for your administrative job at the local post office. Scanning papers, helping people fill out passport applications, sending parcels and letters for people was your usual work day. It paid you enough to buy groceries and pay your rent so you didn’t complain. Especially landing this sweet 50k gig too.

You make a face at yourself for thinking of birthing an actual baby as just a ‘sweet gig’. That made it sound a tad bit too casual. Contrary to how you felt at this moment, getting out of the fancy sleek number that had been sent to pick you up and bring you to the chic downtown bistro that was a few blocks away from Kim Enterprises. You’d done some of your research and was shocked to find out that Kim Taehyung was the youngest Kim brother – and the one that preferred the limelight the least. You’d noticed how handsome each brother was but even so, Taehyung stuck out the most to you. Even in a boring, probably the least flattering photo that had been uploaded to their Wikipedia page, Kim Seokjin was the eldest and the one that was currently seen in the business a lot, that even you – who watched nothing but horror movies or SpongeBob (there was no in between) – had seen him once or twice on the news that was usually on at the post office. Kim Namjoon had been labelled the brains behind the company’s recent developments according to the article you had been reading and Taehyung – your future baby daddy – was said to be the developing a new branch for the company that was still in the works but was expected to be a huge success due to the brand loyalty and the recognition the family already had. They were old money from the looks of it. And all of them so darn handsome! How? This wasn’t fair.

They would make pretty babies.

“Want to head in? It’s even better inside.” You almost jump out of your skin when Jimin’s melodiously airy voice speaks somewhere near your ears. And now his ears are going red from chuckling at you. Yours are probably already red. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”

Was it possible for someone to look even better just in a span of few days? Did he get a facial or some sort of beauty treatment? Because you swear that he looks even better than the last time you saw him at the office and you didn’t think that was possible for a human being. You must have been staring dumbly since Jimin gives you a concerned look when you don’t move. “I really do apologise. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“No, no, no, I-I’m not scared. I’m really fine. I love horror movies.” The word vomit just comes out like… well, vomit. You sucks your lips between your teeth as you start walking beside him. Very evidently embarrassed at your sudden outbursts. You really needed to take a deep breath and calm the heck down. Jimin doesn’t seem to think you’re an idiot though. At least not outwardly because he only wears a kind smile as he leads you to your table.

“That’s good to hear. Tae loves horror movies too.” He’s pulling out a chair for you before he sits across. Just when you’re about to ask where the man in question is, he’s strutting in like the bistro is his runway. You wish you were exaggerating.

“Sorry I’m late babe. Meeting went overtime.” You watch him lean in, pecking Jimin on cheek sweetly before taking a seat next to him. He’s wearing a dark navy blue blazer with a gold Chanel pin on the breast pocket, hair parted like before and a Rolex on his wrist. Looking like a million bucks. You knew that was a Rolex because you literally read an article that was entirely dedicated to the clothes he owned. Weird. But a very interesting piece, you’re not going to lie. Your conclusion in the end was: he’d make really pretty babies who would probably wear mini kid Rolex’s too. Was that a thing? Could you get a child a Rolex? That probably wouldn’t be very wise because-

“You look deep in thought. Unless you’re just silently judging.”

“You would make really pretty babies.” Gosh darn it. Why couldn’t you put a ziplock on your mouth! However you settle for just slapping your hand over your mouth in embarrassment. Is this how you’re going to be like in front of them? They might as well pull out of the contract for not wanting a crazy woman with no filter to mother their child. Jimin seems to be finding you amusing though, with the smirk that’s on his face. Even Taehyung’s face isn’t as stoic as you had last seen at the office.

“Well,” A playful smile on his face as he looks at Taehyung before facing you again, “at the moment, we’re hoping to make pretty babies with you, y/n.”

You can feel the blood rush upwards from every corner of your body and pool in your cheeks. The way he says your name makes it worse because you long to hear it again. But you know you’re being stupid and probably getting too attached already. You needed to reign it in. You’re getting paid for this. Your gaze still lingers in your lap where you’re fiddling with your fingers restlessly; kind of at a loss for words.

“I’m sorry for him. He’s a bit too excited.” At Taehyung’s deep voice, you look up, a little surprised that he’s actually addressing you directly. You’d thought maybe he’d be the more quiet one just like before. But maybe he was just as nervous as you or apprehensive before. You give him benefit of the doubt.

“Oh please! You’re just as excited babe. Don’t pretend to be all macho.” Taehyung’s disgusted face at Jimin has you unsuccessfully attempting to stifle a giggle but when they both look over at your more relaxed posture, they’re joining in too.

“I’m fine really. I can imagine that you would be. A baby is pretty exciting.” Your soft reply and the smile you give them hopefully conveys your sincerity. You don’t want to sound like you’re forcing yourself to say anything just because you’re getting paid to do this.

“It is. We’re… really happy that you’ve agreed to do this, y/n.” You shrug.

“I am getting paid to do this. I should be thanking you.” It was true. It wasn’t as if you’re going to birth their child out of the goodness of your heart. There may not be any other malicious intent there either – you barely knew them – but you don’t want to act like a saint.

Taehyung and Jimin exchange a look before Taehyung is leaning in further on the table, interlocking his fingers in front of him before he speaks, “No, you shouldn’t. I know it doesn’t seem like you’re doing much because you’re being compensated but – it’s a very big commitment to make for someone. Whether money is involved or not. So really, we appreciate this.”

He wasn’t wrong at all. You just didn’t expect them to understand at such a deep level so quickly. “I suppose you’re right. But I do want to thank you though. Thanks to you guys I can actually graduate.” Jimin claps his hands together at the mention of you graduating.

“We saw on your profile! This is your last semester?” you nod, failing to stop the bright smile stretching across your face. You were just so happy whenever you remembered you were almost there.

“That’s amazing! And I saw you’re studying International relations. That’s very interesting. I did a few sociology subjects at University – I know, not the same but similar – and they were fantastic.” Just then a waiter arrives with your entrees that somehow Jimin had ordered while you’d been speaking to Taehyung.

“This calls for a celebration I believe.” Taehyung, for the first time, smiles. He may have smiled at Jimin first but you think it counts. Especially when the stupid butterflies have started to do the salsa in your stomach again. The mozzarella sticks are so stretchy that you’ve pulled your head back as far as it would go without you falling over.

“I’ve never seen someone actually enjoy these like they’re supposed to. See Tae? You’re a party pooper.” Jimin is adorably scoffing at Taehyung before he picks up another for himself and faces you again. You’re trying to not eat like a slob and remember your table manners but man – these mozzarella sticks are good. No wonder they cost 30 dollars per serving. Money not only looked good, but tasted good too.

“C’mon y/n, let’s see whose string snaps first.” Your eyes widen at Jimin’s casual challenge; eating 30 dollar mozzarella sticks in a posh bistro – him in a suit and you in jeans and a flannel – one of you possibly about to fall over.

“Wait, what? Really?” Taehyung is rolling his eyes like he’s witnessed Jimin do this a thousand times before when he looks to the side with a playfully exasperated smile on his face.

“Yes, really! Okay on 3.” You rush in chewing the one currently in your mouth, swallowing the half chewed mozzarella before grabbing another one. He’s counting to 3 and then you’re both leaning back in your seats, trying hard not to break the cheesy string but continuing to stretch it further. Just when Jimin’s head hits the back of the leather seat, the string snaps and you can’t stop yourself before you’re cheering in place for winning the silly challenge. Half of the cheese stick in your mouth and all.

“Serves you right.” Taehyung is trying to hold back his laughter at Jimin’s defeated face before he turn to you again. “He always does this. No matter the time or place. Babe, wipe that frown off your face. It’s not like you don’t win every single time.”

Jimin is sending a glare at his partner as he wipes his face for any extra cheese or crumbs that might be stuck to the peach fuzz on his face. When he misses a bit of grease on the corner of his mouth, Taehyung is already leaning in with a napkin and wiping the oil off his face with such loving eyes you feel like you shouldn’t be watching such an intimate moment between them. Even though there is nothing seemingly intimate or private about wiping food off of your boyfriend’s mouth. Nonetheless, you divert your gaze, not being able to keep your eyes on them when they seemed to be dozing off in their own world with the secretive glances and whispered words that they were saying to each other.

Noticing the shift in your mood, Taehyung clears his throat, getting your attention before Jimin is once again smiling his sweet bright smile at you. “Apologies, Y/N. Jimin here loves to hoard all my attention.” To which the man in question scoffs playfully and you can’t help but giggle to yourself at the cutest nose scrunch you’ve seen on a grown man. For a moment, you’re tempted to ask the couple if the biological father of the child can be Jimin instead.

But then you remember that it wouldn’t matter because you won’t be the one keeping the child anyway and that realisation has you crashing back down to the present and what a serious matter this is. Perhaps they have been trying to make you comfortable too much – although with good intentions – but the fact remained. This matter was nothing but serious and you had to tread carefully otherwise this seemingly formal matter could get very personal and emotional. Taehyung and Jimin had each other but you only had you.

“No need to apologise. I’m glad to know such a loving couple is going to raise a child together. Luckiest kid, I reckon.” The smile you give is genuine but they both can tell the sentiment in your voice. Perhaps it’s time to get serious.

“Thank you, Y/N. We are happy that someone as smart and bright as you is going to mother our child.” Jimin is sincere, there is no doubt about that. He takes Taehyung’s hands in his own and they both send you comforting looks. “We will take responsibility of you throughout this whole process. You don’t need to worry about anything. You are important to us just as much as the baby you will carry for us. Truly.”

Taehyung leans forward once again to get your attention that had been solely on Jimin while he spoke. Your gaze moves on to his sharper features and for a moment you’re getting lost in his large, twinkling eyes. Not as much as Jimin’s but darn it, he was beautiful.

“I wholeheartedly agree with Jimin. You are young and will need a lot of support because as you’ve said – in your profile – you have no living relative?”

The reminder that you are absolutely alone is not one that you needed at this moment. But you know that they meant no harm in mentioning it. “Y-Yes. My mother passed away 4 years ago.”

“I’m very sorry to hear that. Can’t have been easy.”

“It wasn’t but… I’m doing okay. Thanks to you guys as well.” Your grin is mirrored back to you by them both as you reassure them that you are alright. Just then, the food has arrived getting all your attention. The waiter is wheeling a trolley filled with club sandwiches with the thickest, fluffiest bread you have ever seen and your mouth is already watering. You’d had two spoons of peanut butter this morning for your breakfast in an effort to save money for groceries you will buy before you head home.

“Looks good?” Jimin has a teasing smile on his face as he watches you practically drool over the various sandwiches and the thick cut chips drizzled with some sort of sauce with black bits in it. Pepper maybe?

“This looks like the best meal I’m about to have.” He’s chuckling when you talk without taking your eyes off the food. You admit, you may be being a tiny bit rude here but the food really did look thatgood.

“Bon Appetite.” For a second you thought that someone who spoke fluent French, said that to you but it was only Taehyung. Unless…

“Do you speak French?”

“En effet, madame. Tu as de très beaux yeux.”

For once, Jimin and you wear the same expression – his a bit more… carnal than yours admittedly. There was barely a hint of an accent when Taehyung spoke in perfect french. Though he could have called you a donkey for all you knew but, gosh darn – it was sexy.

Okay, you were officially jealous of Jimin.

“You have very beautiful eyes. That’s what he said by the way.” The comment made you blush but you tried to hide it by taking a sandwich triangle. You admit, for a moment you thought about not eating it because it just all looked so prettybut alas, the loud growl in your stomach decided otherwise for you and Jimin sent you an endearing smile while piling up your plate with a whole sandwich, motioning you to continue.

You sent a sheepish smile their way before picking up a thick cut fry with all its golden crunchy goodness. You still had no idea what the sauce was. But your eyes go wide when you take the first bite and the most delicious tangy, earthy flavours explode in your mouth.

“Like it?” Jimin is all but bursting with joy when you vigorously nod after being frozen on the spot for a few seconds. “It’s a mixture of black and white truffles in a butter sauce.”

Your eyes widen in understanding. No wonder you couldn’t quite place your finger on what ingredient you were tasting exactly. Short answer: rich people food.

“It’s amazing. Never thought I’d be eating anything with truffles let alone fries.” The chuckle breaks free, in amazement before you can stop it until you also remember that truffles are expensive. “Oh gosh. Please tell me this sandwich costs less than $50?” You’d worry about humiliating yourself by asking such a question when you’ve already eaten a quarter of the sandwich – later.

Jimin looks slightly startled but wave you off, “Do not worry about that. This is on us. We did invite you here, after all.” You ponder over it for a moment but let it go when Taehyung also reassures you that their invite meant their shout.

“Well, I feel bad that you’re buying me really expensive sandwiches. Pizza hut would’ve suffice as well.”

As far as you’re concerned, you were totally serious. But the two men opposite you who’re muffling chuckles at your pout has you looking at them with a slight glare to your gaze – already feeling comfortable enough with them to treat them to one of your looks.

“What?”

“Nothing, darling. Pizza hut it is – next time.” Jimin’s charming smile that shoes off the one dimple has you melting on the spot. It takes you a moment to continue to chew before swallowing and thankfully avoiding the risk of choking yourself. Oh and hopefully your face isn’t as red as the tomatoes you’re picking out from your sandwich.

“I really should’ve asked you what you liked before ordering. Sorry.” Never did you think Taehyung would be apologizing for not asking your order before putting it in. But you guess he really didn’t dislike you after all.

“No! It’s all good. I really like everything.” And you did.

The rest of the lunch goes smoothly and you three spend the next hour getting to know each other better. You surprisingly have a very relaxed time and quickly forget the nerves that had been clawing their way up your spine and making you jittery before when you’d been cluelessly standing in front of the bistro. You learn that Jimin had went to a renowned dance academy and had met Taehyung after he’d caught the eye of the bachelor at one of his shows in Paris. Apparently Taehyung had chased the elder until he’d given in and went out on a date with him and that had been 7 years ago. Taehyung had been an Art student and particularly into modern, impressionist, post-impressionist and romanticist art. Particularly, Jean Baptiste had been the one to prompt the teenager to study in France.

First of all, you had no idea what any of the forms – “periods” Taehyung had corrected you – of art actually even existed let alone that Kim Taehyung was into ‘romanticist’ art.  Nonetheless, you learnt that there was, unsurprisingly, much more to them both than meets the eye.

After you three had finished, both men had insisted on dropping you off themselves and thus how you found yourself sitting in a Rolls Royce, trying to sit as still as possible which makes Jimin ruffle your hair from his seat beside you.

“It’s okay. You can breathe if you like.” You just smile shyly at being caught acting weird like you tend to around them and their… wealth to put it bluntly. Jimin always responded lightly and it never failed to put you at ease.

They pull up outside your apartment building and you can’t hide the blush when Taehyung leans his head down slightly to look out the window, inspecting the front of it thoroughly. You don’t want to act embarrassed but you can’t help it after having a glimpse in to the life they lead which was far more... Full than yours. But the reality was that this is where you lived and were most likely going to live for a while so there was no point in being embarrassed. It may not be much but it was all you had.

“So, we will see you on Friday at the clinic? Solhyun told me you have an ultrasound on Thursday though.” You nod, confirming that you have to go in tomorrow before the big appointment.

“The doctor wants to make sure I am ovulating – just in case – before the IUI. If anything changes then you’ll know.” Jimin reaches over, grasping your hand in his warm one and instantly, your heart skips a beat at the way he looks at you. Concern written all over his features.

“Would you like us to be there?” The question takes you by surprise and for a moment you want to say ‘yes, yes I want you both there.’

Because you were scared. But you know that they would just want to know everything themselves and make sure everything went okay for the amount of money they are spending, after all. You would too.

“I-It’s okay. It’s just an ultrasound. I’ll see you both on Friday.” You smile your assurance and squeeze Jimin’s hand, only waving politely at Taehyung before exiting the car. After you’re safely inside the main door is when the car leaves and you have to lean against it to even your breathing.

“God, please let this all go okay. Please.” You hope your prayer isn’t wasted when you will all your sincerity in to it. For your sake and theirs.

“Hi there y/n. I’m Dr. Klarna and I’ll be doing the IUI for you tomorrow. How’re you feeling?”

You let out a deep sigh that feels like it had been trapped in your throat for quite some time. “Nervous. Really nervous but I think I’ll be okay.” You try to smile at her but it seems like she sees right through it when she gives an empathetic look before smiling at you.

“That is perfectly normal, y/n. This is a bit daunting to be doing in your early 20s and it’s okay to feel like that. Just let me know if you feel too anxious and I’ll see what we can do to ease that, alright?” When you nod firmly, she asks you to lay down on the ultrasound bed and begins.

It doesn’t take too long and an hour later, she is back with the results in her office where you’d been waiting anxiously. When she gives you a reassuring smile, your anxiety lessens just enough to let you breathe.

“You are perfectly healthy and ovulating so no need to worry, okay? You’re good to go and I’ll go ahead and forward these to Solhyun, your case manager. Do you have any questions or concerns?”

You just wanted to go home and relax before the anxiety made you puke. You wonder if it’s the ramen you had earlier that’s making you this way or just the nerves making you feel somewhere between sick and hyperactive.

“No, that’s all good doctor.”

“Perfect. I will see you tomorrow at 1PM. Take care of yourself okay?” Her smile is warm and she genuinely seems to be caring. Her greying hair doesn’t dull the beauty she holds with her warm brown eyes and light brown shoulder length hair. Her words hold the warm tone you’d only ever heard whenever your mother had spoken with you and now you want to ask her if she has children of her own. But you opt for only saying a goodbye and taking your leave.

As soon as you are outside, you feel like you can finally breathe. Yesterday, you’d been so enveloped in your conversations with Jimin and Taehyung that this day had seemed so distant in the future than the reality of it being tomorrow. Walking towards the local grocery store had somewhat calmed you down and going over the list of the essentials you needed for the next two weeks had distracted you enough to get through the day. Conveniently you had forgotten yesterday about going to the grocery store and had only remembered when your stomach had growled at 9pm that night and the empty fridge had poured cold water on you reminding you that you forgot to shop. So the peanut butter had to suffice once more.

Maybe the peanut butter was making you nauseous earlier. Hm.

Oh well. You had one last night before the big event tomorrow.

“Y/n!” Jimin’s airy, familiar voice attracts you immediately when he calls your name as soon as you enter the waiting room the next day.

You had been told that that Taehyung and Jimin had been called to the clinic earlier to give a sample of his… well, semen. You can’t even say ‘semen’ in your own thoughts and you were about to have it injected in to you to make a baby. How ridiculous is that? ‘Grow up, y/n! You’re about to grow another human in you for god’s sake.’

However, your internal yelling doesn’t nearly calm you down as much as Jimin’s warm smile and his unexpected hug does. Tentatively, you put your arms around him as well, returning the warm gesture, letting the butterflies in your stomach doing their dance distract you enough to ease your nerves.

“How are you feeling?” He pulls back enough to ask you.

“I-I am okay. A little nervous.” When he raises his eyebrow in concern, a worried smile on his face you sigh, adding, “Okay. A lot nervous. Kinda feeling like I will puke but that’s just my anxiety.” His eyes soften even further and he drops his arms to take a hold of your hand, leading you to the seats in the waiting room.

“You can still say no. Back out of this if you don’t want to do this anymore. Don’t worry about the contract.”

“No! Of course not. I-I still want to.” When the frown on his face doesn’t go away, you assure him again. “For you and Taehyung. Please. I am okay. I promise.”

It takes him a few seconds but he nods, patting your hand and giving you a reassuring smile. “Okay. We will be waiting for you right here.”

Just then, Taehyung appears in front of you two. You and Jimin may have been sitting in silence but you had still missed when Taehyung had walked out of the doctor’s office.

Upon seeing the sombre looks on the both of your faces, his own is turning stony as well. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. She’s just a bit nervous.” Jimin reassures Taehyung, your hand still in his own as you also stare at Taehyung too.

“What? Getting cold feet already?”

“Tae!”

You don’t have too much time to process his harsh, accusing tone because just then, the nurse is calling your name. And as much as you were nervous before, you’re thankful that you’ve been given an out because you’re not exactly sure what to say to him. You’re nervous enough that you may cry instead of the anger that usually bubbles up in you when someone talks to you that way.

Instead, you squeeze Jimin’s hand, giving him a forced smile and look at Taehyung just once before walking away with the nurse. You can hear Jimin furiously whispering to Taehyung as you’re walking and that only makes you want to walk faster. Not wanting to hear anything they are talking about and feel worse than the way Taehyung’s sudden change of attitude has you feeling.

Thankfully, you’re busy getting changed into the patient gown you’ve been given and settling in the bed, setting your feet up just the way you’d done before at your usual check-up at your gyno appointment. When Dr. Klarna comes back, with her gloves on this time, you can feel the nerves coming back once again. Closing your eyes and taking deep breathes, you will your heart to stop buzzing in your chest and calm down so you don’t pass out.

This really was happening.

“Okay y/n. Keep taking deep breathes for me and try to keep calm. If you feel like you’re going to be sick just let me know okay?” You nod, keeping your breathing relatively stable as you continue to breathe deeply.

“Alright, perfect. So I’m going to insert the catheter in to your vagina, passing your cervix and up to the uterus. It will feel just like a pap smear but it will allow the sperm to swim up straight to the egg and hopefully fertilize it.” You nod once again, watching the thin, long tube that she’s holding.

“W-Will it hurt?” You know it may sound like a juvenile question but you needed to know. You hated needles and even though this was just a tube – it was still going inyou.

“It shouldn’t hurt at all. You may feel like your stomach is slightly cramping but it won’t be unbearably painful. Anything else you want to know before we begin?” She doesn’t sound impatient at all. You know she wants you to be relaxed before she proceeds and you want this to be over with before the nerves come back. So you shake your head at her and she smiles before asking you take another deep breathe.

“Okay, here we go.” Your eyes close on their own and before you can really think too much about it, you can feel the tube being inserted inside you. At one point, the sensation is dull enough that you can’t really feel the tube going any deeper inside. Just when you’re about to ask her how long it will take, she is pulling back – the tube in her hand as she disposes it off.

“All done!” Already?

“Oh. That was quick.” She chuckles at your dumbfounded expression. You really should have done more research. You had opted against it in case you found something that made you too nervous to continue but perhaps this won’t be too bad…

“Yup. It’s pretty simple. Inserting the sperm near its destination and that’s it. You just need to keep laying down for the next hour so we can maximise the chances of the sperm reaching the egg. Do you need some water? Can I get you anything?”

You settle back down on the bed and shake your head at her. “I’m okay. Thank you.”

“Feel free to take a nap if you like.” She’s washing her hands as she gives you a small smile. “I’ll send the nurse to wake you when it’s time.” You thank her again as she leaves and try to relax.

So this was really happening huh? As much as you were starting to feel okay about this – Taehyung snapping at you with such disdain wasn’t exactly bringing your spirits up. Why had he been so angry? All the possibilities of the ‘why’ keep you pondering for the next how many minutes – you’re not sure. Just when you’re dozing off – the nurse comes in and lets you know you can change back in your clothes and are free to go. Lazily, you tug on your jeans and shirt and grab your bag before the nurse comes back again with a clipboard.

“Y/N, dear. Give us a call as soon as you start feeling any of those symptoms okay?” She’s handing you a sheet full of signs of you potentially being pregnant, “Usually it takes about 2 weeks before you start feeling the fatigue, nausea and such – that’s if the implantation has been successful. If we don’t hear from you then Dr. Klarna will schedule an appointment just for a check-up and send you the details. All the details of today will also be forwarded to your case worker.”

You nod, reading over the sheet as she speaks. “Any questions my dear?”

“No, thank you. I will give Dr. Klarna a call as soon as I feel a bit off.”

“Alright then. Take care.” She lets you go with a kind smile that you try to mimic just because she was too nice for you to not smile back. However, your smile is slipping away as soon as you see Jimin on the waiting chairs, head resting back against the wall while he seems deep in thought. Though, as soon as you come in his line of vision, he jerks up, standing just a few steps away from you.

“Y/N… are you alright?”

“Yeah. What are you still doing here?” You really didn’t expect him to stick around after the way Taehyung had reacted. Thinking he would probably take him elsewhere to cool off because surely, his boyfriend was more important than sitting around and waiting for you to be done.

“What do you mean? I wanted to be here for you. Listen…” He’s shifting on his feet, a sigh escaping his lips before he continues, “Taehyung was out of line. Please don’t think too much of it. He just… We’ve been left at the last minute before and he just panicked and thought maybe you… you were leaving us too.”

The way Jimin says ‘us’, the pain in his voice tells you that he’s telling the truth. Out of the two of them, you could safely say that you trusted Jimin more than anyone you had trusted in such a short amount of time. So you give him the benefit of the doubt, just for Jimin.

“Okay. I guess I understand.” You nod at him, forcing on a small smile to ease his worries.

“Thank you. I sent him home to cool off but I didn’t want you to be alone.”

“I…” You try to find the words to respond but you can’t. You had just assumed that you would go home by yourself after the procedure. No second thoughts that one of them might be waiting for you. Maybe you were too used to be alone. And even though this companionship may be temporary – it was still real for the time being. And if Jimin continued to look at you the way he did every time, you might as well kiss your heart goodbye.

“Okay. I’m fine though.” Jimin takes your hand in his, walking out of the clinic without breaking the link between your hands.

“I’m glad. Let me drop you home.”

“It’s okay-” Jimin hushes you while opening the door of his escalade – you assume the car is his own since no driver is in sight.

“No arguments. I’m taking you home.” Biting the smile that’s threatening to break lose, you just look out of the window, murmuring a thanks and let him drive you home.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay with you?” For the tenth time probably, Jimin is asking you this question. His sweet eyes filled with trepidation.

“I will be fine, Jimin.” You stretch your arm across to his seat, using every ounce of courage in you to grab his hand softly to reassure him. Up until now, Jimin has been the one to initiate any physical contact and you had just gone along with it. But this was the first time you were reaching out to hold his hand to convey your sincerity. You were just fine.

“The doctor said I’m okay to do what I usually do in the day.”

“And what is that exactly?” You don’t miss the teasing smirk that’s stretching across his pretty face.

“Well,” you drag out the syllables, racking your brain for what you’re usually doing at this time, “Probably making dinner and watching SpongeBob.” The only way to describe Jimin’s laugh is magical. Magical and contagious because you’re smiling too as he throws his head back, eyes turning in to crescent moons as he mumbles an ‘okay.’

“Don’t laugh! It’s fun.” You can’t help the pout that your lips have turned in to. SpongeBob was a sensitive topic for you. When Jimin Calms down from his fit of giggles, he looks over at you once more, bringing a hand towards your cheek.

His warm finger tips slide against your jaw before his thumb is rubbing just the very slightest on your chin as his index finger holds it. Time seems to have stopped while you try hard not to stare at his plush lips. His own eyes seem to be flicking back and forth from your lips to your eyes. Finally, as if he’s shaken himself out of a trance himself.

“Okay. Take care and call me if you need anything. Okay?” You nod – or you think you do because you seem to be on autopilot at the moment. Damn him for malfunctioning your whole entire brain with just a caress to your chin. Your chin! You really needed to get laid if you were lusting after gay men.

Wait- no. You can’t. Trust you to forget that you’re literally trying to make a baby for them.

“O-Okay I will. I promise.” After a few more seconds of sizing you up, he lets you go, unlocking the door for you to climb out.

You wave bye at him but he refuses to drive away until you are safely inside. Just when you are heading upstairs to your apartment, he drives off.

The familiar but unwelcomed butterflies are back again but you just tell yourself those are ‘cramps’ like the doctor told you.

It’s been 4 days since the IUI and today you’re finally feeling the cramps that Dr. Klarna had told you about. They hadn’t been too intense in the morning but as the day has gone by, the discomfort level had steadily climbed up. You’re in the middle of texting Jimin back – he’s texted every day to make sure you are alright; much to your protest that he didn’t have to – that a particularly nasty cramp makes you double over.

“Ow! Frick…” You’re trying hard to not swear – you didn’t particularly like to – but the pain was so intense that you have to grab the counter of your kitchen with one hand while the other clutches your stomach. You take a deep breath, walking over to your sofa – that’s just a few steps away in your small apartment, thankfully – and sit down.

And just like that – you spend rest of the day either on your sofa watching TV or curling up in your bed -taking random naps. At first – the thought that you might be pregnant goes through your head immediately but then you remember reading on the sheet that the chance of you being pregnant this early on is very rare. So instead, you just suck it up and also remember that you should be getting your period in just over a week if you’re not pregnant so the cramps could be explained by that. Even if you’ve only ever gotten cramps a day or two before your period. Nonetheless, you didn’t want to raise a false alarm.

It’s 10PM at night when you receive another message from Jimin, asking if you’re okay. You realise that you had forgotten to press send to your text earlier in the morning and probably worried him more than he already does. Quickly texting him back, you grab your pajamas, heading to the toilet to change. A few minutes later, you’re ready for bed and before you know it – already dreaming about a certain someone kissing the hell out of you.

The next morning – you blame the hormones for that particular dream.

It’s the 9thday after the procedure that you see the blood smeared on your underwear and your heart drops.

“What…” Your breathing has picked up and it feels like your throat is closing up at the thought of you not being pregnant if you’re getting your period already. It’s irrational, you know. The Doctor had warned you that you may not get pregnant on the first try but you had never really entertained the thought too much. Dismissing it as being not the case for you when she’d told you that it likely won’t be since you’re so young. However, the cramping… the mood change and now blood. You had to be getting your period right? Maybe the IUI messed up your period symptoms a bit but it was close enough to your period that this could be it. You were spotting already.

Quickly rushing out of the bathroom, you hastily punch in the number of the clinic, knees bouncing with anxiety as you hear the ringing. “Hi! May I speak to Dr. Klarna please? I-It’s y/n. Please tell her it’s y/n.”

“Alright, just a second please.” Whoever is on the line is thankfully not making a fuss – probably because of your panicked voice. So you calm yourself down; taking deep breathes.

“Y/n?”

“I’m bleeding.” The words come out before you can even greet her properly.

“Okay, Y/N, that’s alright. Don’t panic. How much are you bleeding?”

“J-Just spotting. I think I may have my period.” There is silence over the other line for just a few seconds too long to make you start self-fulfilling your theory.

“I’ve booked you in for today at 4:30. Are you okay to come down to the clinic y/n?”

“Yes. Yes I’m okay with that.”

“Perfect. Just wear a pad for now if the bleeding is too much. No tampon. I’ll see you soon okay?”

“Okay.” You’re nodding to yourself, thanking her before hanging up.

What if you weren’t pregnant? You didn’t want to disappoint Jimin and Taehyung. Would Taehyung even speak to you if you weren’t pregnant? What if you had to pay all the money back? You’ve already deposited it to your college and had no idea how you’ll get 20k back if there is something wrong with you and this all doesn’t work out.

“Oh god...” Taking deep breaths, trying to stay calm, you force yourself to have a drink of water and not think about all the what-ifs that will drive you mad. Instead, you put on SpongeBob and let the silly cartoons take your mind off of what could be happening to you.

“Your results should be done any minute. I’ll go and have a look, okay?” You nod, sitting on the examination bed of Dr. Klarna’s office once again. “Mr Park and Mr. Kim are outside.”

At the mention of the two men, your heart rate is rising once again. But it was only logical for them to be here, you suppose. “They are asking to see you. Would you like me to send them in?”

“I- Okay.” As much as your nerves are telling you otherwise – if you couldn’t face them then you would have an even bigger problem when it came to the time of breaking the bad news to them. She gives you a nod before she’s leaving the office. Taking in a deep breath, you prepare yourself for their arrival.

Just a few short minutes later, Jimin is entering the office – a beige trench coat adorning his lithe frame, making him look bigger than he was. And a few seconds later – Taehyung’s taller frame and sharper features are in your view as well. His face is passive and you’re not sure how to greet him. Jimin however, is rushing to your side – taking your hands in his own as he stands close enough that you can smell his cologne.

“Are you alright? We heard you felt unwell and came as soon as we could.” The smile that finds its way on to your face is something natural – something uninhibited that Jimin seems to pull from you and no matter how much you trained yourself to not melt in to a puddle, you still turned putty whenever he had his hands on you. Which was more often than not.

“I-I’m okay. I was just,” taking a deep breath as you look down at both of your hands, trying to earn the courage to say the words, “I was bleeding this morning.”

You know that Jimin is smart enough to realise what that could mean and you don’t need to look at his face to see the disappointment that might lurk there. However, while trying to not look at Jimin, you can see Taehyung instead in your view and you can see the negative emotion in his face more clearly than what you think you’ll find on Jimin’s

“I’m so-”

“Mr, Kim, Mr Park.” Dr Klarna had just entered the room then, nodding at both of the men with a bright smile on her face as she glanced to her clipboard and then back to you and Jimin.

“Doctor, is she okay?” Jimin lets go of your hands, walking more towards where Taehyung stood to hear what she had to say.

“She won’t be feeling so hot for the next few weeks though.” Her smile is getting bigger and so is your confusion.

“Congratulations. Y/n is pregnant. You and Mr. Kim are expecting.”

Oh.

A/N: Thanks 4 reading !!! Next chapter will be posted this time next week :) hope everyone had a lovely christmas!

[tlirswriting]

Past Mistakes, part 6

Read part 1 here: https://bookfroggity.tumblr.com/post/187152824147/past-mistakes

Now before we jump into this,, a few things: there's more death than what's typically discussed, and a very brief mention of suicide along with the guns that are to be expected from tua. There's probably more specific triggers in there, but basically, it's not particularly for the squeamish. It's also over 2000 words long, so you might want to sit down with a drink or a snack or something, depending on how quickly you read.

P.s. sorry Luther

///

Five checked the house. It was the Frankenstein's monster of architecture, and unreasonably large, but as he wandered down the halls he found that Klaus was... Right there, in his room. Getting dressed, presumably after getting out of the-- oh.

Well, how about that, Five thought, looking at the bloody footprints leading from the bloodier bathtub.

"You okay?" Five asked after knocking on Klaus's room's partially-opened door. It was a social courtesy Five didn't particularly understand, especially when he could already see inside, but one he decided to humor regardless.

Klaus inhaled sharply. Five could see from the doorway there was something in his eyes. He looked haunted. What a coincidence. "Yeah, I just... Long night," He said, his voice tired.

Five chuckled slightly at what was possibly the understatement of the year. "More than one, from the looks of it."

"Yup."

"Don't remember the dogtags."

Klaus made a noise as he pulled a shirt on. "Yeah, they belonged to a friend." He hesitated ever so slightly at the word "friend," which Five probably wasn't supposed to notice.

"How about that new tattoo?" Five prodded. There was clearly something up with Klaus.

"You know, I don't totally remember even getting it. Like I said, it was a long night."

It clicked in Five's mind what happened.

"You did it, didn't you?" He asked, taking a few steps closer.

"What are you talking about?"

Five paused, unsure how to put it. "You know, I can recognize the symptoms, Klaus."

"Symptoms of what?"

Stop playing dumb, I can see straight through it, Five thought.

"The jet lag," Five started listing. "Full body itch. The headache that feels like someone shoved a box of cotton up into your nose and through your brain."

Klaus just looked at him.

"You gonna tell me about it?" Five asked, trying to be gentle about it despite his lack of experience in the field of comforting people.

"Your pals, when they broke into the house and they couldn't find you, they took me hostage instead."

"And in return, you stole their briefcase." Five couldn't help but smile as he turned and started pacing. It would've been a smart move, had Klaus known what he was doing.

"Yeah. I thought there was money in it, or I could pawn it, you know, whatever. And then I opened it."

"And the next thing you knew, you were... Where? Or should I say when?"

"What difference does it make?"

"What diff-- okay. How long were you gone?"

"Almost a year."

"A year?" Five stopped and looked at his brother, his mouth hanging slightly open for a moment. "Do you know what this means?"

"Yeah, I'm ten months older now."

"No, this isn't any sort of joke, Klaus. Hazel and Cha-Cha will do whatever they can to get the briefcase. Where is it now?"

"Gone, I destroyed it." Klaus held up a fist and opened it, making an accompanying "poof" sound.

"What the hell were you thinking?"

"What do you care?"

"What do I care? I needed it, you moron, so I-- I could get back, I could start over!"

"Just, just..." Klaus stood and walked away.

"Where are you going?"

"Interrogation's over, just... Leave."

After watching Klaus go, Five grabbed a pen and a piece of paper off his dresser and scrawled notes on it. You had to write down everything when dealing with time travel if you wanted to have any chance at recreating -- or avoiding -- results.

...

Five spent about an hour writing chalk calculations on his bedroom walls. Then again, it was hard for him to gauge how much time exactly had passed when he was focused this intently on a task.

He paused and looked at his work, reading it back. "Hey, I think I've got something, Delores," He smiled. "It's tenuous, but... Promising."

Luther stepped in the doorway, not humoring the social courtesy of knocking first. "Who are you talking to?" He asked before realizing there was a better question. "What is all this?"

"It's a probability map," Five said, not stopping what he was doing.

"Probability of what?"

"Of whose death could save the world." Five briefly looked away from it to roll his eyes at Luther. "I've narrowed it down to four."

"Are you saying one of these four people causes the apocalypse?"

"No, I'm saying that their death might prevent it."

Luther let out a quiet "oh" and let Five keep working for a few moments.

"I'm not following."

God, you're dense, Five thought as he turned to face Luther who somehow still didn't understand this. "Time is fickle, Luther, the slightest alteration in events can lead to massively different outcomes in the time continuum."

"The butterfly effect."

Great, at least he's heard of it before. "So, all I have to do is find the people with the greatest probability of impacting the timeline, wherever they may be, and kill them," Five said rather matter of factly for someone discussing first-degree murder. "Oh, yeah." He grabbed a notebook out of his drawer to save the most important parts in and keep them for later.

"Milton Greene," Luther read aloud, studying the quite literal wall of text. "So who's he, a terrorist or something?"

"I believe he is a gardener."

Luther turned to look at Five, that look of holier-than-thou shock on his face again. "You can't be serious. Wait, this is madness, Five, you--"

He seemed to notice that Five was grabbing a hunting rifle.

"Wh-- where'd you get that?"

"In Dad's room. I think he used it to shoot a rhinoceros," Five explained as he loaded it. "It's pretty similar to the model I used at work. Nice shoulder fit, and highly reliable."

"But you can't-- this guy Milton is just an innocent man!"

"It's basic math. His death could potentially save the lives of billions. If I did nothing, he'd be dead in four days anyway. The apocalypse won't spare anyone."

"We don't do this kind of thing."

"We are not doing anything. I am."

"I can't let you go and kill innocent people, Five, no matter how many lives you'll save."

"Well, good luck stopping me."

Five began walking away, notebook tucked neatly away and familiar instrument of death in arm.

Luther sighed. "You're not going anywhere."

Five spun around to see him holding Delores out the window, his hand around her throat. In his mind, he heard her choking. He instinctively raised his gun, looking at Luther through the scope.

"Put. Her. Down."

"Put the gun down, you're not killing anyone today--" Don't test me. "--I know she's important to you, so don't make me do this."

Please stop, you're hurting me!

"It's either her or the gun."

I-- I can't breathe!

"You decide."

Five was shaking. He thought about pulling the trigger, but killing his own brother would be pushing even his morals. He froze.

Luther didn't seem to be taking any of this as seriously as he should.

It's the survival of the entire planet we're talking about, you idiot, he thought. I've killed before, what difference does it make if I have to take a handful more lives to save everyone else?

Five, please, make him stop!

Luther should have been more afraid of him than he was.

The bastard actually dared to throw her.

Five didn't have time to think, only react in the way he was most used to.

Brains were splattered.

Five heard Delores clatter to the ground, but his eyes stayed on Luther's body, slumped against the wall. His eyes were still open, staring back at him with no one behind them.

"Oh, god," He sighed. "What the fuck did I just do?"

Five paused, taking a shaky breath and sitting down on the side of his bed, waiting for his head to stop spinning at what just happened.

"I'm sorry, Luther. You shouldn't have gotten involved. This is why I didn't want you getting involved, I... I didn't want this to happen. I was supposed to save you."

He looked at the corpse again.

"Just another body, really, no big deal," He told himself. "I knew there would be collateral damage. What's a few more deaths when billions of lives are on the line, right? I'm just minimizing the number of dead people. It's statistically impossible to save everyone, anyway."

"Is everything okay?!" Someone shouted, footsteps running up the stairs.

"Shit, shit, shit..." Five thought about making it look like a suicide, but he knew it wouldn't be convincing. Nobody shoots themselves in the forehead, and presumably even fewer choose to do so with a hunting rifle. Besides, he needed the gun.

He jumped outside and assessed Delores. Her arm had detached, but the latching mechanism might not have been too badly damaged. Other than that, the plastic had enough give to it for nothing to break.

It hurts, Five.

Five wished he had more control over his imagination as he listened to her whimpering in his head.

"It's okay, it's okay, I can put you back together--"

There was a scream from Five's room. He figured he should get a move on before anyone looked out the window.

...

Five drove out to the address of his first target, but time froze just as he pulled the trigger, the bullet suspended mid-air on its path to an unsuspecting Milton (who was, in fact, a gardener) Greene's skull.

The Handler appeared behind him.

"Neat trick, isn't it?" She said, taking off her sunglasses. "Hello, Five. You look good, all things considered."

He wasn't amused, but went along with the niceties. "It's good to see you again."

"Feels like we met just yesterday. Course, you were a little bit older, then."

He still wasn't amused.

"Congratulations, on the age regression, by the way. Very clever. Threw us all of the scent."

"Ah, well, I wish I could take credit; I just miscalculated the time dilation projections, and... Well, you know. Here I am."

"You realize your efforts are futile. So, why don't you tell me what you really want?"

"I want you to put a stop to it."

"You realize what you're asking for is next to impossible, even for me. What's meant to be, is meant to be. That's our raison d'être."

Five pointed the rifle at her.

"Yeah? Well, how about survival as a raison?" He said.

"I'll just be replaced. I am but a... Small cog in a machine," She half-sang as Five's arm slowly sagged before returning to her normal tone. "This fantasy you're nurting about summoning up your family to stop the apocalypse is... just that; a fantasy. I must say, though, we're all quite impressed with your initiative, your... Stick-to-itiveness, really quite... Quite something. Which is why we want to offer you a new position back at The Commission, in management."

Five scoffed. "Sorry, what's that now?"

"Come back to work for us again, you know it's where you belong."

"Well, it didn't work out too well the last time."

"But you wouldn't be in the correction division any longer, I'm talking about the home office. You'd have the best health and pension, and an end to this ceaseless travel," The Handler laughed. "You're a distinguished professional, in... Schoolboy shorts."

The odds of Five being amused were slim, and she didn't make it yet, but one could admire the attempt.

"We have the technology to reverse the process," She offered. "I mean, you... You can't be happy, like this?" She gestured to his short, thin frame, pushing his gun down lower.

"I'm not looking for happy," He spat.

She brushed the back of her hand against his cheek, smooth save for a nearly imperceptible coating of peach fuzz. "We're all looking for happy. We can make that happen. We can make you... Yourself again."

"And what about my family?"

"What about them?"

"I want them to survive."

The Handler looked around and huffed. Negotiations usually went faster, Five guessed.

"All of them?" She asked.

"Yes, all of them."

"Well..." She reached into her pocket and put her sunglasses back on. "I'll see what I can do. Do we have a deal?"

Five looked at her outstretched hand, and briefly hesitated before shaking it.

///

Part 7: https://bookfroggity.tumblr.com/post/187649566892/past-mistakes-part-7

[maypresosan1973-blog]

And they were something tangible! It like when cereal boxes stopped putting prizes in the boxes, the way they have been with these contests lately. Like maybe give out the boxes with $88 purchase AND put the contest envelope in there as part of the box. Then it a cool bonus for whoever does win, but everyone at least benefits who spends the money. The next morning, I'm in surgery prep and once they load me up with the first dose I proceeded to tell EVERYONE "I GOT LAID LAST NIGHT." Then proceeded to be detailed. And I mean everyone. And I remember it. They assume "well she's flirty with me then she's flirty with every guy" which is a turn 거창출장샵 off for them. It may also come across as you being desperate for men's approval/attention which is a turn of for relationship minded men. I would try being friendly and happy but without the overt flirtyness, and see if that helps. They deserve to be recognized and given props for what they do. These top 5 are at the top of my charts in the comedy game.Show DetailsNecessaryHubPages Device IDThis is used to identify particular browsers or devices when the access the service, and is used for security reasons. LoginThis is necessary to sign in to the HubPages Service. I dont in any way think that they didnt really love each other before but there seemed to be a mismatch of energy but they match in a lot of other ways and I think it been the most obvious "development" in the group. On the other side of that. I feel like JK and Suga have a more obviously similar personality in some ways but very different in others. I concur with the other commenter who suggested The Grange in Hamburg. It fits your criteria for a "guaranteed dining experience" and it is within your budget. My partner and I value the experience of dining out and consider it not only a meal but an event! They are local and close to where you are staying. He had brought a new copy of The Arabian Nights for Rebecca, wishing to replace the well worn old one that had been the delight of her girlhood; but meeting her at such an inauspicious time, he had absently carried it away with him. He turned the pages idly until he came 거창출장샵 to the story of Aladdin and the Wonderful Lamp, and presently, in spite of his thirty four years, the old tale held him spellbound as it did in the days when he first read it as a boy. But there were certain paragraphs that especially caught his eye and arrested his attention, paragraphs that he read and reread, finding in them he knew not what secret delight and significance. In 1890, Sophia Hayden Benett became the first woman to receive an architecture degree from MIT. Unfortunately, Sophia was unable to find work in her chosen field, eventually accepting a job teaching technical drawing in a Boston high school. But she didn't stop dreaming. At times it definitely felt like they were fucking with me, but over time (especially when they got diagnosed BPD/ revealed it to me) I realized their narcissism prevented them from seeing other people and the importance of an equal relationship. If they thought and/or felt some way, it must be right. They still my friends but god damn have I never been so happy to be single.. It plays in about an hour with a lot of it happening simultaneously. The designer is a euro head who owns tons of euros and is thoughtful in his designs. There a ton of videos of rules overviews, and a full playthrough by tantrum house that I check out to see how it really plays out :). Nothing else lol. Where did all that money go? No clue cuz they didn educate us on that. I could Google it now but I don really care.

[yasbxxgie]

How One Man Is Using Hip-Hop to Diversify Architecture Armed with a master’s degree in architecture, decades of hip-hop fandom and rapper teachers, Mike Ford is quickly getting kids into building

On a recent Thursday, Grand Wizzard Theodore was busy DJing in his home borough of the Bronx. Theodore is widely acknowledged as the man who invented turntable scratching, so his presence behind the decks was not unusual. The venue, however, was unexpected: The Cornerstone Academy for Social Action – a middle school, where Theodore’s selections were soundtracking furious Lego-building.

While Theodore cued up hits, Mike Ford, founder and leader of Hip-Hop Architecture Camp, was guiding a group of sixth, seventh and eighth graders as they assembled Lego models based on rap lyrics. Students gathered around the table where one of their peers was working with lines from Grandmaster Flash & the Furious Five’s “The Message:” “Broken glass everywhere/ People pissin’ on the stairs, you know they just don’t care/ I can’t take the smell, can’t take the noise/ Got no money to move out, I guess I got no choice.”

This student created a literal representation of the song’s image: a staircase, a sprinkle of green pieces for “broken glass everywhere” and scattered yellow pieces for “people pissin’ on the stairs.” “Good start,” said Ford. But he gently pushed the student towards a more constructive response to “The Message.” “Could there be a building made from all the broken glass?” Ford wondered. “Let’s start to think about how we can make it so that nobody has to say those words in their song again.”

Ford sees his teaching as a way to counter the troubled history of urban planning in America. “We’ve decimated cities that were built by the hands of African Americans – like Black Bottom in Detroit, or here in the Bronx, when they built the Cross Bronx Expressway through a community of color,” he says. “Those decisions are made by people outside of those communities. There are a limited amount of people at the table to advocate for our communities.”

Hip-h[H]op Architecture Camp attempts to correct that representational imbalance, using rap as a hook to introduce young minority students to a field they may not otherwise encounter. “I have been on this planet for several decades, and I have moved in some pretty radical circles, but personally, I cannot recall meeting a melanated architect in my whole life,” says Chino XL, a veteran rapper who attended the camp in the Bronx. “Just for these children to know it’s a thing, that’s important.”

“I’m letting kids know we have a history of building spaces and places,” Ford adds.

For more than a year, Ford, a longtime hip-hop fan with a master’s degree in architecture, has led sessions like this around the country. (Ford has planned nearly 20 sessions nationwide this year.) The idea for the camp came from a simple insight made while Ford was in graduate school at the University of Detroit: “Less than three percent of architects in America are African American,” he explains. “We’ve spent a ton of money trying to diversity the profession, but it’s always from the same perspective: Come learn this western culture. Come learn about the Greeks and the Romans. It’s not making it relevant.” The tendency to emphasize the importance of certain models – Greek but not Egyptian, for example – means “we’ve experienced the world through a limited lens,” Ford says.

He is also interested in the aesthetic connections between hip-hop and architecture. “Music is saturated with references to architecture,” Ford says. “Not just critiquing your environment, but in the songs, [rappers] express what they wish architecture was. KRS-One talks about hip-hop artists buying property to build a hip-hop city.”

It’s not a coincidence for Ford that Kanye West recently expressed interest in architecture and community planning “for like the third time.” (“He also said a lot of other stuff that I don’t agree with,” Ford notes.) Ice Cube studied architecture before co-founding N.W.A, and Pharrell Williams included discussions of architecture in his 2012 book Places and Spaces I’ve Been.

Ford aimed to strengthen the relationship between the hip-hop and architecture communities with a summit he organized earlier this year. Architects attended the event along with the lyricists Chino XL, Lupe Fiasco and Nikki Jean. “They talked about city skylines, if they can write bars that fit within those lines to see how each city sounds,” Ford says. “Is there a hidden sonic experience within these environments?”

Anyone who can tell the difference between Golden Age New York hip-hop and Los Angeles gangster rap knows intuitively that there are connections between music and place. Then the question becomes, if space impacts rap, what happens when you change the space? “How do we make architecture so that people stop saying, ‘I want to hear another track like “The Message”‘?” Ford says. “I want to stop the cycle, and stop the environment that’s influencing some of these songs that are very challenging.”

During the five-day program held in New York in May, students used rap lyrics as a basis for Lego models, practice working with the three-dimensional design program Tinkercad, hone their own rap verses, often with help from professional MCs, and create a music video. Autodesk, the company behind Tinkercad, provides the software to Ford for free and helps fund the camps. “When you meet Mike and you hear what he’s doing, you can’t help but want to be involved,” Sarah O’Rourke, Autodesk’s youth audience strategist, tells Rolling Stone. “We’re looking to inspire kids, and what better way to do it than with music they’re already involved with?”

The Bronx students hunted for architectural connections in “The Message,” Nas’ “I Can” and Childish Gambino’s “This Is America.” They were focused, only breaking from their modeling efforts to perform an impromptu line-dance to Migos and Drake’s “Walk It Talk It” or to lobby the DJ: a sixth grader named Dirk politely asked Grand Wizzard Theodore to play a song from the rising Brooklyn rapper 6ix9ine. Theodore had misgivings about the track – “a lot of negativity in that record; our kids need better role models” – but he cued it up anyway.

Theodore started visiting schools in 2002 with his Scratch Academy before connecting with Ford’s architecture camp. “To be able to go to school and have some people talk to me about my life, I didn’t have anything like this,” he said. “I grew up in abandoned buildings, fires all over the place, people smokin’ dope and nodding in the corners. I want to be able to turn on the TV and see a kid from the Bronx – that grew up the same way I grew up – building buildings.”

Both Theodore and Ford hope that more hip-hop artists will participate in future Hip-Hop Architecture Camp sessions, raising the program’s profile and expanding its reach. “The artists that have the biggest voice ­– that these kids see on TV every day that they play their records on the radio every six minutes – those are the artists that should be doing these programs,” Theodore says.

“We need to have youth hear it right from the artist,” Ford adds. “[Artists] have been influenced by the environment. I want to give them the opportunity, in turn, to influence their environment.”

In addition to enlisting more rappers to participate in his camps, Ford ultimately hopes to train others to lead sessions so they can take place in multiple cities at once. “It’s cool to have Mike Ford going to every city,” Ford says. “But I ended my TED talk with, I want to create an army of architects that can right the wrongs of modernism in communities of color. It’s about the dissemination of this curriculum to as many people as possible.”

For now, Ford’s army remains small, but it’s growing. Chino XL’s visit to the Cornerstone Academy marked his first time participating in the camp. “I was overwhelmed at how many kids signed up for it on a Saturday and Sunday, and how completely focused they were on what the goal and the initiative was,” the rapper said.

Ford called his work “making advocates,” and many of his students in the Bronx quickly grasped his mission. Toward the end of the first day, Dirk, the sixth grader, presented a model he built based on a line from Slick Rick’s “Children’s Story”: “When laws were stern and justice stood.”

“When [Slick Rick] said, ‘when laws were stern … ,” I don’t really think that resonated with me,” Dirk told the class. “Now we’ve got a lot of people being arrested for no exact reason – like Kalief Browder, who the sixth grade is learning about now, who committed suicide because he went to Riker’s Island for three years for a crime he did not commit. He was given the opportunity to plead guilty, but he never did because he knew he didn’t do it.”

Dirk was imagining an alternative outcome. “This police station is supposed to represent a better future,” he said, “without false accusations.”

This episode drove home Ford’s words from earlier in the day. “These kids can have an immediate impact,” he asserted. “And they can create architecture we have not seen before.” [h/t]

Photograph:

The rapper Chino XL teaching students at Hip-Hop Architecture Camp (top)

[humansofhds]

Johnna Loreen, MTS ′18

“I’m glad that in recent years prison scholarship and activism is coming to the forefront so that people have to see it and listen. The more that we can empower people who are impacted to be part of that movement, the more likely people will have to reckon with these truths.”

Johnna works as an education navigator, advocating for and advising people who want to start or continue their education upon their release from incarceration.

Falling Down the Rabbit Hole

My path to prison education began in a course on policing with Professors Aisha Beliso-De Jesús and Laurence Ralph. I found many issues I care about—policing, and race and class conflict—intersecting at this place called mass incarceration. I felt compelled to learn more, to get involved, and to see what I could do to be part of that work. A classmate recommended I look into the Petey Greene Program, which supports higher education in prisons in Boston and other cities along the East Coast.

I ended up working with the Petey Greene Program and at MCI Norfolk for over half of my graduate career. I did some independent studies with Professors Kaia Stern and Diane Moore and read a lot of Angela Davis, Michelle Alexander, Elizabeth Hinton, and other leading scholars on these subjects.

Two books that I read were Kaia Stern’s Voices from American Prisons and Richard Snyder’s The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Punishment. I was fascinated by why our prisons look the way they look, why they operate the way they operate, and how that is deeply rooted in the Christian theology that helped shape this country. I fell down the rabbit hole of the theology of the criminal “justice” system.

Incarceration’s Christian History

One would hope that Christian theology would follow a restorative, healing, loving approach to criminal justice because those are the feel-good parts of Christianity. But there are also some things that are not so pretty in Christian theology or ways that it has been co-opted that do harm to communities and individuals.

The Protestant ethic of individualism that sets apart Protestantism from its brother, Catholicism, defines our punishment system. For example, the fact that solitary confinement exists, and that throughout history people were often put into solitary confinement with nothing but a Bible, comes from an Anglican idea that solitude would bring one closer to God. The fact that prisons were built by Quakers, in concept and construction, as an alternative to the death penalty is another example of the religious roots of our prison system.

We idealize individualism as a society, which is very Capitalist and very Protestant. One's relationship with God is individual. It is the individual's business, and it is their responsibility to redeem themself.

This idea takes the onus off the community to be part of somebody's redemption, to take responsibility for the society we created and the people in it. It manifests in a punishment system that blames the individual and absolves the community of responsibility.

Erasing these connections is incredibly harmful because people are ripped out of the context of their family and relationships and expected to make something good out of that.

A View from the Inside

The implementation of education in prisons varies widely from prison to prison and state to state. In a lot of ways, my experience in Massachusetts is very night and day from my work in Washington now.

The prisons in Massachusetts are older. Everything is older and has more history on the East Coast, and that is reflected in the architecture of the prison and a lot of the attitudes around the prison. There is an antiquated mentality about what a prison is there for and how people who are incarcerated should be treated.

While volunteering at MCI Norfolk, I was escorted everywhere. It was very strict. There was a lot of distrust in all directions. It was a really stressful environment to work in. A lot of people I worked with there—some corrections officers, teachers, and of course, students—were phenomenal. But that certainly was not the whole experience. Additionally, college programming was brought in by universities or non-profits who worked outside the Department of Corrections (DOC). The partnerships were not always as cooperative as one would hope.

It was very different coming to Washington where there is a state infrastructure already in place for education in prisons. The State of Washington has mandated that certain educational programming be available to people who are incarcerated. The DOC partners with a local college—often a community or technical college in the area—so that every state prison has a partnership with a local education provider to provide basic GED and high school diploma studies, as well as some vocational programming.

Students often tell us that they wish we offered liberal arts education—a transferable associate's degree, for example, or a bachelor's degree. Having a contract with the state brings limitations though, and because of our state’s contract, we can't use state funding to offer either. Outside of basic education, we can only bring in vocational programs.

The reason comes down to the perception that education in prison should be for a certain purpose. A lot of leaders, a lot of people giving the money, believe that education should lead to better job outcome, job readiness, or a vocational skill that is marketable. Those things are valuable and should be present in what we offer. But I take issue with that being the only thing we focus on in education in prisons.

There can be so much value in an education for the sake of education. I think that offering liberal arts studies and expanded degree programs offers an opportunity for a transformative experience and more humanizing spaces. One can develop a stronger sense of agency just through the act of studying, through the act of education.

A Corrections Education Navigator

My job is like a college advisor, but it looks very different inside of a prison facility. I work with people who are releasing anywhere from a month to a year out and want to explore the possibility of beginning or continuing their education.

I help them talk through their professional and personal goals, and whether a college education, vocational program, or other direction makes sense for them. Then I support them through the process, such as FAFSA, college applications, and all the little hoops and inconveniences that one has to navigate.

I was a first-generation college student, so I remember some of what that was like—not knowing the right questions to ask, where to start, what resources even existed for students like me. People who are incarcerated face a whole different set of challenges in addition to that.

That is why I like the title “Navigator.” I don't have all the answers all the time, but I work together with my students to navigate the challenges and make sure that they have an advocate every step of the way. When they get to their release date, I want them to have an idea of what they want to do, where they want to go, and some solid next steps they can take.

I’ll admit I have mixed feelings about my work though. I would really love to say I do great stuff, it's all part of this great system, and we're making things better. But I am not convinced of that.

On a systemic level, I don't feel like I do that much, or certainly not enough. I still feel like I'm pushing people out into a system that is not really meant for their success and is not going to support them in their pursuit of success. That feeling sucks. Being a Navigator or even one of several Navigators trying to do good work with people does not necessarily mean that we’re transforming the system in a meaningful way.

On an individual level, I do some good work that I am proud of. I love being a partner in my students’ success. It feels really good when someone gets into college and I helped them do that. Or someone gets a financial aid package, and for the first time, realizes that college can be a reality for them. That's really empowering. I love being a part of that.

Where You Are Determines What You Get

There are a lot of barriers for students in prison. When you walk into the classroom, it may not seem terribly different. The differences come down to what students must overcome to get their education.

Students in prison do not have the kind of support that students on the outside do. They don't always have advisors or tutors. There isn’t always a quiet place to study. Because of the pandemic, they don't even have a library. And even when they do, they don't have access to JSTOR or Google, or all those resources that students on the outside take for granted and use constantly. Some students also face the logistical difficulties of taking classes while in solitary confinement.

Students in prison are constantly jumping through hoops. It takes a very determined, dedicated person to be successful in higher education in prisons. Even though we do our best to make it as accessible as possible, the barriers are many.

We are working to open up more possibilities for our students. For example, a special kind of laptop was secured for students last year to provide more research resources. I feel lucky that in Washington the right people have pushed and advocated for that because I have taught in facilities where there is no such thing, and there never will be.

This sort of thing is important everywhere, but because every state is so different, what you get depends on where you are incarcerated. It should not be that way.

Transformative Education Is Intentional

It is important for those doing this work to acknowledge that a lot of people who are impacted by our carceral system have not had good experiences in education or with educators. Educational institutions can be incredibly oppressive, stifling, and unwelcoming. Many people in our programs tell us that their experience with education has sucked. This is one reason why I take issue with the idea that education is inherently good.

Some educators come into prisons with expectations that they will just deliver the curriculum and it will be of value. But it’s naïve to think that education is inherently wonderful or will automatically transform the learner. Even if a student gets college credit or a degree, education must be done with intention as a collaboration between learners and educators to prove meaningful.

Many scholars have worked on the concept of transformative education. A few are Kaia Stern, Diane Moore, and, of course, there's Paulo Freire's famous Pedagogy of the Oppressed. Their work shows how important it is to understand that education is not inherently transformative. If that is what one wants education to be, one must be incredibly intentional to make it that way. If done intentionally, education can help empower people in prisons to exercise their own agency. It can give them more tools and support to vocalize their experience, their story, their needs.

In that way, education can be a wonderful tool of justice and liberation work. But it doesn't just happen that way. One doesn't learn how to add fractions, and then magically have this heightened consciousness. It must be incredibly intentional. I've used that word a million times, but I can't overstate it.

The Road to Prison Abolition

If we are dedicated to higher education in prisons as a transformative practice and a tool for liberation work, we have to think about this work in tandem with mass incarceration and the abolition movement of prisons.

Because education can be such a means of empowerment, education is very much in the conversation about mass incarceration. Education is not a fix all. It is not the solution. But it can be an impactful part of the solution by providing humanizing spaces inside of a dehumanizing institution.

The goal of any good nonprofit is to work itself out of existence. So, I think that education in prison must be a tool to help dismantle the prison, to help abolish the prison. That doesn’t mean to hell with everyone who is incarcerated now and who works in prisons though. It is a more encompassing approach than that.

Any approach to abolition is going to have many different facets of which education will be a single part. Angela Davis comes to mind here and her words about abolition being the creation of something rather than just the destruction something. As educators, that concept should always be in the front of our mind.

We cannot just deliver a curriculum. We need to figure out how to take our students with us on an educational journey and equip them with the tools they will need well beyond the classroom. Not just how to write a paper or add a fraction, but how to tell your story, how to make an argument, how to do research, how to have a debate.

When I go into my classroom and teach, I never depart from that mentality. I try my very best to work in partnership with my students to empower and embolden them to use their own voices and prop themselves and each other up. They are the ones with the lived experiences. They are the ones who are the most impacted. As educators, we should be their enablers.

The frank truth is that not everybody agrees with this. Not everybody is going into their classroom to do this. And I can't change that. Nobody can. But the more people get involved who do have that mentality and the capacity to teach, the more meaningful our impact will be, the closer we will become to the goal.

I understand that there is a lot of weight behind these words and that because my job is to work in prisons many of my coworkers would not receive my opinions well. But this is what I believe. Education must be a tool for the broader goal of abolition of prisons. I don't think it'll happen in my lifetime, but one day, if there are no prisons, then there will be no need for higher education in prisons.

Find the Key and Set Them Free

Prisons are built out of sight so we can keep the people being held there out of mind. I would venture to say that our lock-them-up-and-throw-away-the-key mentality demonstrates that we are not supposed to think about people who are in prison.

I am glad that in recent years prison scholarship and activism is coming to the forefront so that people have to see it and listen. The more that we can empower people who are impacted to be part of the movement, the more likely people will have to reckon with these truths.

For people seeking to join this effort, take the time to find the people and organizations that have been impacted by our carceral system that are already doing valuable work. It's important to follow their lead when getting involved and understand that this is work should be done in community and in partnership.

Get involved, but do so with intention and caution. I don’t say caution because the work is hazardous, but because the work involves a lot of systems and people with conflicting viewpoints. It is important to consider that before and during the work. We need to think critically about the experience of the people who are incarcerated, as well as the dynamics between them and people who work at the facility.

People do a disservice to themselves and their programs when they don't think about how those dynamics are going to affect their work because they absolutely do. Anyone who wants to do this work needs to have a conversation and really talk through the assumptions that they have going into it.

Why are you going into this work? What do you hope to accomplish? How are you going to integrate yourself into this field in a way that is not oppressive or harmful? The reality is that there are people who do this work and cause harm. Many education programs, re-entry programs, religious programs go into these facilities and cause harm.

So, think critically about your positionality; put it all on the table. And don’t stop doing that. Only then can your good intentions become a strategy and your strategy a road to meaningful change.

Edited by Natalie Campbell; photos courtesy of Johnna Loreen

[ariestar91-blog]

What is your Life Path?

I was recently watching an American sitcom called Marlon. For those of you who haven’t heard of it before, it is a show about a divorced African American couple happily coparenting two beautiful children. The mother, a well-mannered and sensible woman, some would say, has made her career in Architecture and Design, a seemingly traditional profession. The father, considered an overzealous man-child, is a Comedian and Social Media Influencer, a career many consider non-traditional. BOTH are successful in their own right.

The episode I was watching was about Career Day in the couple’s son’s school. The students were encouraged to dress professionally, so the mother had her son wear a black suit, complete with tie. In the classroom, every student was dressed in clothes that are traditionally considered professional.

That got me thinking about the way we groom our children for the workplace. The approach is not updated. For most of my childhood, I was told the same things that the children on this show were taught. When I walked in for a job interview at the company I work for today, I was dressed in a “professional” ensemble. I can’t tell you how out of place I felt. Around me were people lounging on bean bags, dressed as if they were at a café chilling with friends.

The reality is that the concept of “the professional look” is being redefined. This is because many of the traditional professions are on the verge of extinction. In their place, many new professions are becoming commonplace. By the time those in university right now graduation and enter the workforce to build their careers, many existing professions will already be dead, and many more on the verge of dying, including the ones that are currently being studied in universities.

Most adults will tell you that they’re not even doing the jobs they went to school for, even if it was for a highly specialized profession. I know doctors who spent decades earning their medical degrees only to turn around and pursue their passions elsewhere or use their skills to bring credibility to medical TV shows and movies. Many have gone the traditional route of practicing medicine for a few years before ending up as hospital administrators who no longer actively practice medicine.

Where does this leave you? After years of lectures, assignments, exams and student debt, there isn’t even a guarantee that it will be worth it. So, my advice to everyone, no matter how confident you are about the path you wish to follow is to follow the path you WANT to follow, whatever it is. None of it is going to be easy anyway:

     Ø  If you follow a path that many before you have taken, you will need to work harder to set yourself apart.

     Ø  If you take a path less travelled, you will need to work hard to build that road, inch by inch.

Each path comes with its own challenges. Neither is easy. So you might as well tread a path wherein lie challenges you are willing to commit to overcoming.

The reality is that the lines are blurring between what is deemed an acceptable career and what is not. Following the very profession your forefathers made their own will take you on your own unique journey, because things have changed – the times are different, the context is different, the people are different, and so on. In other words, the variables are different. You may even have more variables to deal with than any other generation before you.

We live in a time with immense opportunity. With these opportunities come choices. You can make any choice – it can be the right one, or it can be the wrong one. There are no guarantees. So you might as well make a choice you’re willing to live with.

A decade ago, getting an MBA or any professional degree, for that matter, would guarantee you a cushy job with a fat paycheck. When I obtained my MBA in 2013, I was in Singapore. At the time, Singaporean companies were paying higher salaries to kids fresh out of their undergraduate coursework than to MBA graduates. The difference was a staggering 40%.

When I finally joined the workforce, almost every person I worked with, both young and old, had an MBA. At this point, we were competing with B-School graduates from elite institutions. They were getting the big bucks.

Now, don’t go thinking that this is the answer to you prayers.

A couple of years into my career, my measly salary increased by almost 300%. My elite school graduate colleague had his bumper paycheck slashed by over 50% because of performance issues. At the end of the day, your career, if you pursue it, will last you a minimum of 35 years. So, ensure you play the long game.

What’s going to take you through it is commitment, consistency, and how you respond to the challenges that come your way, both personally and professionally, because those are the only things that are in your control. They illustrate the depths of your character. They are integral to you. Exercise them. Be true to yourself.

Be a lawyer if that’s your calling. Open a bakery if that’s what you prefer. Travel the world if that’s your desire. Become a social media influencer and brand endorser if that’s where your heart lies. Just be you. Do the one thing that only you can do. The money will follow, so long as you follow that path which is uniquely you. Remember that there is no one else in the world like you. Therefore, no one else can be you or do the things you do.

We are privileged to live in a time that allows us to explore, understand and express our unique identity. You may not know who you are, just who you aren’t. That’s okay. You have more avenues of discovery and exploration than any generation before you. You have free will and support structures that allow you to do this. Of course, there are always going to be haters who wish to silence you.

But there are equally as many people who will support you and raise you up. You just have to find them and let their voices ring louder in your head.

We live in a time that allows active dialogue, that allows us to decide who we want to be. This privilege is built on the shoulders of generations of outliers who fought for this right. Honor their struggle for your opportunity and do it for all those who didn’t have the opportunity or the courage to do it themselves. Aspire to be the truest version of yourself and it will inspire those who haven’t  yet given themselves the permission to do the same.

You never know where you might end up, where life will take you. After all, that’s now how life works. You cannot plan every aspect of life and expect it to work out. All any of us can do is try. Give it your all. If it works, great! If it doesn’t, no one can ever accuse you of not trying.

My father was a hardworking man. He rose to ranks beyond those deemed capable of him, given his educational qualifications. At the onset of his 50th birthday, he was set to become Executive Vice President of a Fortune 500 company, something no one with his background had yet to achieve. A few months short of his promotion, however, he suffered a heart attack. It was stress induced. He had to undergo surgery, and then many months of bed rest. After that, he decided to take it easy at work, forgoing his promotion.

A few years later, my mother fell gravely ill. I was on the precipice of entering the workforce myself and my father had already built an illustrious career, with many years left. But my mother needed looking after – 24 hour care.

It was a call we had to take as a family – should I delay the start of my career? Should my father give up all that he had worked for? There’s never a right answer.  

My father finally decided that family was more important to him, and it was my time to make waves in the corporate world. Without another thought, he quit his job five years before he was set to retire. He sacrificed not just his career, but a million dreams of his ow and those that he had seen with my mother.

You see, my parents come from a generation that believed in working hard, raising a family and saving for retirement. Duty and sacrifice were the tenets of their existence.

My father is a self-made man. For much of my childhood, I only saw him over the weekend. But I always heard him talking fondly about traveling across Europe for six months with my mother and I. But there was always a reason to push this dream – either work or my education or health.

With my mother’s sickness, which she continues to battle even today, my father has devoted all his time and efforts to her care. His own dreams and hopes for his retirement pushed further and further into a tight, dark little box in the back of his mind.

The choices and sacrifices my father made left me in want for nothing. His successes meant that I had a privileged upbringing. This privilege also meant that I could accomplish things that my father only dreamed about. His way of life, however, also taught me about the weight of regret, about prioritizing my dreams and making choices that I can live with.

This is much of the story of most of my generation, because we were all raised my people who shared similar values as my father. Most did what they HAD to do, rather than what they WANTED to do. Therefore, it is our duty to them to be the truest versions of ourselves.

Our parents might have their own hopes and dreams for us. These might be different from our own. Nonetheless, at the end of the day, however deep down, they want nothing more than to see us happy and fulfilled in our own lives, however misguided their attempts at showing us this maybe.

You see, my parents wanted me, as an adult to save as much money as I can. Buy a house, get married and have children. I’m inching close to 30 years of age. By this time, they at least expected me to be married. Over 80% of the people I know, my age or younger by up to 5 years are married. Some even have a child or two.

I, on the other hand, have very little savings to my name, a career that is blossoming, a plethora of skills and interests I actively pursue and a decade’s worth of travel under my belt. My parents are worried about me, but I couldn’t be more fulfilled with my life.

It is safe to say that my parents do not agree with over 80% of my life choices –

     Ø  They wanted me to be an engineer. I have a degree in psychology. My MBA was our compromise.

     Ø  They wanted me to continue a career in product marketing. I went back to my roots as a leadership facilitator and coach.

     Ø  They wanted me to get married. The very thought makes me shudder; I can’t even remember the last time I was in a relationship.

     Ø  They wanted me to invest in a house. Since the beginning of my career, I have spent at least 30% of my annual salary on traveling around the world; I’ve been to 15 countries so far.

And then there are the smaller things –

     Ø  They were against me getting a tattoo. I currently have two, with plans for another one soon.

     Ø  They didn’t want me posting pictures of myself with alcohol (what will people say? P.S.: I’m Indian). For a very long time, every aspect of my life was on social media.

These are only a few of the things that my parents and I disagreed on. Nonetheless, my parents are proud of the person I have become and happy to see me live my truest life. Society still talks. My own family doesn’t fully understand what I or the company I work for does. But the people that matter to me support me, and that is more than I can ask for.

Everyone has their opinions. The only ones that matter are your own – Are you happy with the choices you are making? Can you live with them even if that means you’re not as successful as you thought you’d be? Even if you aren’t as successful as others?

Remember, it is the long game, and each of us will be given our dues at the right time. Live your own life, not someone else’s, or the life someone else wants you to live. In doing the latter, you will feel like an imposter in your own skin throughout your existence.

But I must warn you. This isn’t your happy ending. Everyday, you will face challenges and you will have your own struggles to deal with. The journey towards living your most authentic life is never ending and never easy. There will be days where you want to give up; days where you will want someone to just give you the answers; days where you just want to do nothing.

These are offset by days that are amazing; days that you feel incredibly accomplished; days where you feel highly motivated. Remember those days. They will carry you to the finish line, so long as you set realistic expectations of the world around you.

We are raised to believe we can be anything we want to be, do anything we want to do. That part is true. But don’t go expecting gold stars all the time. Sometimes, your greatest accomplishments may go unnoticed, may be criticized even. You have to learn to let it roll off your back. This is a life skill that we’re never taught. We simply have to learn it on our own.

So, set high expectations for yourself, higher than you think yourself capable. Be your harshest critic and your biggest cheerleader. Just don’t have the same expectations of the world around you.

I learnt this the hard way.

I did well at university – high markets, top grades, quality projects that I am proud of even today; classmates constantly seeking my help and teachers telling me I will do well in life. Like most stupid teenagers, I couldn’t wait to be an adult. I thought I would kill it.

The third day into my internship had all the misguided notions I had about myself knocked out of me. I realized quickly that I was a miniscule drop in a vast ocean. I was insignificant, inexperienced and had a helluva lot more to learn. Since then, it has been my pursuit in life to continuously learn, both about myself and the world around me. The more I learn, the greater the realization of just how little I actually know.

Self-awareness, I learnt, is very important. It is also a life-long pursuit and a complex task. This is something most people don’t understand, and therefore, is a common point of ridicule by people towards those younger than them.

Fact: It is experience that brings maturity, not age.

Now, I am in no way propogating that angsty, disrespecting teenagers who think they know it all are right. I was a teenager once, we all were, and we can all tell you that teenagers don’t know nearly as much as they think they do. But you will only be in a position to agree with me when you’ve gained more experience.

As an only child, I have been coddled most of my childhood, to the point where most people around me considered to be spoilt and naïve. It’s easy to make those judgments. Most people will judge you. They don’t know your truth. And, I am guilty of letting those opinions get to me.

When I moved to a different country to study, I didn’t really think that decision through. As a result I wasn’t as prepared as I considered myself to be. So, naturally, almost immediately, I called my parents, sobbing. My father offered to drop everything and bring me back home. But I was stubborn. I had fought for this privilege and I was going to see it through.

I cried every night that first month –

     Ø  I cried every time I felt lonely or alone

     Ø  I cried every time I had to do something that I had never done before

     Ø  I even cried because I thought my can opener was broken

In hindsight, my mother treated me with kid gloves on, encouraging the smallest tasks that I did on my own, which scores of other people have been doing for ages.

Eventually, I got through it and I came out on the other side stronger, with more experience and maturity, and a lifetime of memories and friendships. There were, of course, may ups and downs along the way – good days and bad. Overall, however, it was a positive experience. What made it positive though was my outlook.

For everything that went badly, for every time I failed, I looked at them as learning opportunities – as teachable moments some would say. That is what truly strengthens you – what you take away from any experience, good or bad, and how you apply it to make your life better.

The years that followed this experience were some of the hardest years of my life. So many things went wrong, and they were out of my control to fix. I couldn’t change the outcome, but I could dictate for myself how I responded to these situations and experiences.

I’ve been through some of the most horrific experiences anyone could ever go through, many of which happened at the same time. I’ve experience more in my 20s that most people do in their lifetimes. I’d like to think that I have come out of them stronger, braver, and with a  better grasp of self awareness and understanding; making choices along the way, most of them difficult, but all of them that I can live with.

At the end of the day, that is all any of is can truly ask of ourselves, in our careers and in life – be committed, be consistent, be self-aware and be true to yourself, and you will come out the other side braver, stronger and with a sense of achievement beyond what you conceived possible!

[firstyearstories]

6 Things I Wish I Knew Before Starting University

http://anotherangle.eu/posts/the-stunning-architecture-of-the-university-of-alberta/

1. Studying in university is way different than studying in high school.

In high school, I used to be able to sit down at 7pm the night before a test, study for a few hours, still get my 8 hours of sleep, and go and get a pretty good grade on the test the next day. You’ll quickly find that in university, this isn’t realistic. If I tried doing that in uni, I would have flunked out by now. Try your best to keep on top of your readings (more on that later) and any little assignments or extra not-for-credit work that your professor may recommend doing. If you study even just for an hour every night, then by the time it’s midterms season you’ll feel significantly less stressed. The same applies for finals; a little goes a long way. When it comes to studying for the exams themselves, give yourself a week minimum to really make sure you know the content. If you have any questions or are confused on any topic, ask! Your profs and teacher assistants are there to help, and they want you to do well too. 

2. Keep on top of your assignments.

For myself, the biggest difference between high school and university is that in high school, I did the homework every. single. night. whether I wanted to or not. In university, it’s so easy to just decide to skip the readings or the assignments for class the next day. Nobody will be chasing you down, making sure you’re doing your readings and are prepared for exams. If you choose to not keep on top of your work, then that’s your problem. And trust me, once you decide to skip a reading once, then you will not feel like doing a single reading the rest of the semester. Once finals roll around, you’re going to be kicking yourself and asking yourself why you didn’t just suck it up and do the couple hours of reading every night. As for the major assignments like essays, don’t let them sneak up on you and all of a sudden holy cow; it’s the day before your 10 page essay is due and you don’t have a thesis yet. (Been there, done that. It’s really not fun.) Once the due date is a about month away, try to start forming an idea about what you’re going to write about, and start looking for any resources and articles you’ll want to reference. Do a little at a time, that way you won’t be stressing out the night before needing to pull an all-nighter to write a subpar paper when you could get have received a higher grade by taking it little by little, and really taking your time to read over your work and make edits. 

3. Explore your options.

Out of my group of friends that went on to post-secondary, I am the only one that finished in the program I started in four years ago. It’s okay to change your mind, and university allows for a greater degree of flexibility and independent choice than high school does. In sum, people change, and the university understands this. Nobody is going to stand between you and the experience you are trying to cultivate for yourself. As you grow and develop through your experiences at university and elsewhere, so do your interests and your dislikes. One of my friends made it to his third year of nursing before coming to the realization that his heart wasn’t truly in it. He said that he simply could not see himself working as a nurse for the rest of his life. A program that you thought was perfect for you when you first started post-secondary may not fit the person you become after you get some more life experience. Don’t be afraid to switch programs and study something that truly interests you, you’ll thank yourself in the end.

4. You can use Wikipedia as a reference.

Ok, so technically I did learn this in first year, but it’s such a good tip I can’t not share it with all of you. During my MUSIC 103 lecture one day, my prof was talking to us about our essays we had to write. My world was changed when she gave us this incredible piece of advice: she said “If you’re trying to find a good scholarly reference, go to Wikipedia, look up the article of the topic you’re writing on, and look at the reference list. There you can find plenty of acceptable, scholarly references and you’re good to go.” And there you have it. It works for pretty much everything since, you know, there’s a WIkipedia article for pretty much everything. I’ve carried it with me ever since and still use it to this day. That said, it’s not a great idea to limit yourself to Wikipedia for sources, and I’d really encourage you to learn how to use the databases available to you as a student. Campus librarians are really helpful if you’re having troubles figuring out how to navigate the databases, and may also be able to point you in the direction of some great books you could use for your assignment. If you’re still having a hard time finding an appropriate source after exhausting all of the options listed above, there might be limited information or research on the topic (something to consider if you’re interested in pursuing graduate studies), or your topic might be too narrow. In this case, I’d recommend visiting office hours with your professor or scheduling an appointment if you’re unable to make it to their office hours. 

5. University is not just a place where you go to get a degree

If you’ve decided to go to post-secondary, you are likely very serious about your education. First of all, to attain a high enough average to apply into your chosen program takes hard work. However, compared to the work you will have to put in to complete a university degree, high school will seem like a cakewalk. Cakewalk: a word which here means an absurdly or surprisingly easy task. University costs a lot of money and most people want to get their money’s worth. Speaking from personal experience, take your classes seriously, but don’t forget to enjoy your university experience. It’s all about having a healthy balance. If you don’t balance out hard work with some extracurricular activities, you will burn out fast. Take the time to give your body and your mind a break and your ability to keep up with the rigors of university education will improve drastically. Volunteering on or off campus, playing sports, or picking up a new hobby are great ways to give your mind and body a much needed break. And don’t hesitate to check out involvement fairs, mixers, or informational sessions. You just might find the thing you’ve been looking for all along. During Week of Welcome, there will be a massive tent set up in the middle of campus (Main QUAD), where many of the university’s 400 student groups will gather to talk to you about the various ways you can get involved on campus and with their club. Some of the clubs will change day-to-day, so feel free to visit each day if you haven’t found something yet.

6. You are not your GPA.

If there is any one thing that I truly hope you take away from this article, I hope it's this: you are not your GPA. At the end of the day, your first year really doesn't matter. Now I'm not telling you to slack off and not try, but you might find yourself enrolled in a class that no matter what you do, no matter how hard you study, you just don't understand the course material. And that's fine. It happens to everyone. For me, it was CHEM 101. When I got my final mark back, I was just happy to see that I passed. But I'm going to be an elementary teacher, and it’s highly unlikely that my future employer will care about my CHEM 101 mark from my first year. First year is hard. It's a huge transition from high school, and can honestly be a bit of a eye opener. Even if you're going to apply for a graduate program, they'll only look at your last 2-3 years, never the first. So don't be afraid to fail, experiment, or put yourself out of your comfort zone if it means you’ve learned something (even if it’s something about yourself). Try your best, but don't beat yourself up over one bad grade during your first year. We've all been there, and trust me, it only gets better.

About the Authors

Michael graduated from the U of A Faculty of Nursing this past year and is currently working as a Registered Nurse in the OR at the University Hospital. He has volunteered with the Week of Welcome/UAlberta Orientation program since 2015 as both a General Volunteer and a Team Facilitator. Michael’s all-time favorite spot on campus is the Butterdome where he and his classmates would go to play badminton between classes.

Sydney is going into her fourth year of a Bachelor of Elementary Education degree and will be doing her Advanced Field Experience (student teaching) this fall. This is her second year with the Week of Welcome program, and her first year as a Team Facilitator. Sydney’s favourite places on campus are the tenth floor education lounge and the arts lounge in the old Arts building, purely because they’re great spots to take a quick nap in between classes.

[douchebagbrainwaves]

PEOPLE ONLY HAVE SO MANY LEISURE HOURS A DAY, AND TV IS PREMISED ON SUCH LONG SESSIONS UNLIKE GOOGLE, WHICH PRIDES ITSELF ON SENDING USERS ON THEIR WAY QUICKLY THAT ANYTHING THAT TAKES UP THEIR TIME IS COMPETING WITH IT

Often to make something people want. Wall Street's language when they did their IPO, and Wall Street didn't buy. So be honest with yourself about the sort of people, to start software startups. We still don't require it, but Rabin was spectacularly explicit. These ideas didn't just seem small. A and still has it today. While you're at it, and group themselves according to whatever shared interest they feel most strongly. And the startups where they have to choose between two theories, prefer the one that doesn't center on you. It probably extends to any kind of creative work. The conversations on Reddit were good when it was that small. When we look back on the desktop software business will find this hard to credit, but at some point.

There is no real distinction between read-time, and both got their degrees.1 There's a strong tradition within YC of helping other YC-funded startups. Hard, but doable. And how do you get good ideas for startups: what do people who are not like you want from technology? After the last talk I gave, one of which won't surprise them, and it was clear that this was the way to succeed was to launch something fairly quickly.2 By the time we were bought by Yahoo, I suddenly found myself working for a software company to pay off my college loans. Trade shows didn't pay as a way to make money writing a Basic interpreter for the Altair. No big company can do much better than that.3 It was also the value of our ideas, which turned out to be an online store builder, with about 14,000 users.4

What matters is not ideas, but for good new ideas, and you shouldn't go unless you want to do.5 I have no tricks for dealing with fly balls. In fact, this is true it has interesting implications, because discipline can be cultivated, and in the worst case you won't be wasting your time. For Web-based software, they will be facing not just technical problems but their own wishful thinking. Web, which makes hardware geometrically closer to free; the Web, all made by hand. YC when she's not busy with architectural projects. Running code at read-time lets users reprogram Lisp's syntax; running code at compile-time, and both got their degrees. Convergence is probably coming, but where?6 There are two ways to do that.7 Boldness is the essence of venture investing. For example, stocks are riskier than bonds, and over time always have greater returns.

It all evened out in the world. And for us founders it blunted the terrifying all-or-nothingness of a startup making it really big is microscopically small.8 Suppose your company is making $1000 a month now, and it was like trying to run through waist-deep water. And this was the era of get big fast. Working on hard problems.9 Don't start a company, the less this matters. Viaweb ever having an actual meeting.10 Most people would agree it's more admirable to be good at programming is to find other people who are mature and experienced, with a business background. Starting a startup to write mainframe software would be a great idea for someone else to do sales and customer support.

Launching too slowly has probably killed a hundred times more startups than they would from in-house.11 The winds of change originate in the unconscious minds of domain experts.12 In those days you could go public as a dogfood portal, so as a company. Language courses are an anomaly. In Kate's world, everything is still physical and expensive. Because they can't predict the winners in advance?13 If you laugh, they're not the target market.14 If someone had a problem, then let your mind wander is like doodling with ideas. The biggest constraint on the number of completed test drives, our revenue growth increased by 50%, just from that change.15 What you should learn to get a good job.16 They want that money to go to college.17

They're not trying to impress them.18 What we really do at Y Combinator is now 3 years old, we're still trying to understand its implications. When people used to ask me how many people our startup had, and I think this shrinking from big problems is mostly unconscious. It spread from Fortran into Algol and thence to both their descendants.19 You might even know about it already, if you have more will than discipline you'll just give into them and end up on a local maximum, like 1980s-style AI, or C. This was her list: How many startups fail. Usually from some specific, unsolved problem the founders identified.20 For server-based software through ISPs is like selling sushi through vending machines. You could do it in five years. Whatever they say, can talk Wall Street's language. So really this is a coincidence. It spread from Fortran into Algol and thence to both their descendants.

We never had enough bugs at any one time to bother with a formal bug-tracking system. So I'd advise you to be skeptical about claims of experience and connections. Trolling tends to be open source: operating systems, programming languages, of all things. That had already happened to Slashdot and Digg by the time you face the horror of writing a dissertation. That gets you James Bond, who knows what to do when the teacher tells your elementary school class to add all the numbers from 1 to 100? So is it coming out of them. I think we'll marvel at the inconveniences people put up with.21 Most companies, at least, that means it deserves attention, however implausible it seems.22

Notes

But this takes a few years. The closest we got to the ideal of a great thing in itself deserving.

Later stage investors won't invest in it.

That way most reach the stage where they're sufficiently convincing well before Demo Day by encouraging them to act against their own freedom. If Congress passes the founder of the world wars to say how justified this worry is. There are some whose definition of property is driven mostly by technological progress to areas where Apple will be better at opening it than people who might be?

Forums and places like Twitter seem empirically to work in research departments.

Sam Altman wrote: One YC founder wrote after reading a talk out loud at least 150 million in 1970. Finally she said Ah! There are lots of opportunities to sell or not. Users judge a site not as hard as everyone assumes.

Microsoft didn't sue their customers directly, but explain that's what I think all of them could as accurately be called unfair. The Baumol Effect induced by the Dutch baas, meaning they give it additional funding at a famous university who is highly regarded by his peers. Probably the reason this subject is so valuable that visitors should gladly register to get into that because a unless your initial investors agreed in advance that you can discriminate on any basis you want to sell services than a VC is interested in you, however, by Courant and Robbins; Geometry and the VCs I encountered when we were quite sore from VCs attempting to probe our nonexistent database orifice.

The only people who did invent things an ordinary one? And that is not writing the agreement, but except for that might work is in itself, not competitors. Several people have told us that we didn't, they mean statistical distribution.

In reality, wealth is measured by what you've done than where you can't distinguish between gravity and acceleration. If this happens it will seem more interesting than later ones, it has to convince at one point they worried Lotus was losing its startup edge and turning into a big effect on college admissions process. Add water as specified on rice package. 6/03 Nielsen study quoted on Google's site.

As the art itself gets more random, the effort that would get shut down a few old professors in Palo Alto. Some VCs seem to have the concept of the world of the Italian word for success. They're still deciding, which made it over a certain field, and the older you get bigger, your size helps you grow. Needless to say about these: I wouldn't want the valuation of the USSR offers a vivid illustration of that investment is a trailing indicator in any other company has ever been.

Analects VII: 36, Fung trans. It tipped from being this boulder we had high hopes for doesn't do well, partly because a quiet, earnest place like Cambridge will one day be able to hire any first-rate technical people do not generally the way they do. As Paul Buchheit points out that taking an angel-round board, there are certain qualities that help in that era had no government powerful enough to be the last batch before a dream.

If we had high hopes for doesn't do well, so I may try allowing up to them. As always, tax receipts as a motive, and the war it was too late to launch. Two possible and not others, no one else involved knows French. The state of technology isn't simply a function of revenues, and more like determination is proportionate to wd m-k w-d n, where there is a convertible note with no environmental cost.

You may not be able to fool investors with such abandon. A lot of great things were created mainly to make the police treat people more equitably.

A small, fast browser that was really so low then as we think.

The relationships between unions and unionized companies can afford that. One of the kleptocracies that formerly dominated all the investors.

But the change is a shock at first, and know the answer is simple: pay them to justify choices inaction in particular.

How can people who did invent things worth 100x or even 1000x an average programmer's salary. Roger Bannister is famous as the average car restoration you probably do make everyone else books a package tour. And the expertise and connections the founders enough autonomy that they don't want to get the money. In the original version of the world of the acquisition offers most successful ones.

She ventured a toe in that it even seemed a lot of people starting normal companies too. You're too early really means is you're getting the stats for occurrences of foo in the Neolithic period. So when they were doing Viaweb again, I'd open our own startup Viaweb, which is probably no accident that the worm might have. To be safe either a don't use code written while you were expected to do right.

A single point of treason. Adam Smith Wealth of Nations, v: i mentions several that tried that. Other highly recommended books: What is Mathematics? The founders we fund used to say, but I'm not saying that good art fifteenth century artists did, once.

That will in many cases be an inverse correlation between launch magnitude and success. I'd open our own version that by the time it was.

It's a strange feeling of being absorbed by the time it filters down to you; you're too early if it's not always tell this to some founders who'd taken series A rounds from top VC funds whether it was wiser for them by returns, it's easy for small children to consider how low this number could be made. Plus ca change.

Inside their heads a giant house of cards is tottering. I never get as large a percentage of statements. Graduate students might understand it.

Even in English, our sense of getting rich, purely mercenary founders will do that. So where do we push founders to do others chose Marx or Cardinal Newman, and many of the technically dynamic, massively capitalized and highly organized corporations on the one Europeans inherited from Rome, where there is at least a whole is becoming more fragmented, and Jews about. 03%.

Thanks to Dan Giffin, Patrick Collison, the crew at Carson Systems, Shiro Kawai, Sarah Harlin, Trevor Blackwell, Robert Morris, Jessica Livingston, and Alex Lewin for their feedback on these thoughts.

[thinktwice222]

tick tock

going going gone.  Tired morning with all the pressure to everything all at once. This must be that Gemini moon Pisces mercury square in the sky right now.  Now to be realistic, I will probably just stay home until I decide to go to save-alot for my weekly groceries, which are much needed. All I wanted this morning was a bowl of cereal, and all I didn’t get was a bowl of cereal.  Is it too much to how that they carry coconut milk? Maybe I can get the cans of cream and mix it myself.... that would be really cool.  I could just chill and shake in mason jars instead.  That might be the trick! Cross that off my check list.  Although now they have to carry cans of coconut cream.... which they might.  It’d be maybe in the baking aisle?  So besides that, just put my laundry in, my work place can stink up my clothing.  It does have a smell but I think you also have to be distinctly aware of it to really identify it consistently.  I can’t decide if I would want a crush to notice it or not.  In my mind I don’t really smell it, my body odor is worse because I have anxiety sweats.  So most of my laundry is body  odor related but the mindfulness of peoples past complaints about the smell of the work place really sticking to the clothing has been a bolster to wash my laundry regularly.  

Art is going, comics have been good but I may have put a nail in the coffin for my second comic this morning by stating when they could actually expect to see a finished product.  The deadline is not feasible, if I was being paid it would be but on top of it all I’m not too fond of the story line.  So I let them know where I was at and mentioned being paid for an acceptable timed turn out, otherwise the project may be kaput on my end.  The other comic is going great though, I just take it to work on sundays and spend time with it at a cafe on wednesdays.  Seems to work well enough. Maybe in the future for these projects, when I get an idea of my time flow, I will ask for a monthly stipend instead for payment.  That’d be a good arrangement.  I have also been dreaming about water landscaping sculpture.  Maybe I should get in contact with Miki and see if he would still be up to do something like that with me, we could possibly work to get a grant?  

I am all ideas this morning, no wonder I am so tired.  I did manage to sleep last night all the way through, which is usually a feat within itself.  

Trying to decide if I want to smoke right now or not. 

Among other things (chores), I guess today is going to be a fine art day.  I have a new sketch book, the same as my last finished, which is a Holbein F6.  Its a nice book, I do wish they had a hot press version at my local art store.  The cold press mark is, in my opinion, too big for the size of the paper.  It sometimes can create unneeded information, like fuzz or distortion in a blown out picture. What is an artist but their mark?

Made enough in tips yesterday to buy a 25 lb bag of plaster of paris.  I’m learning slowly that the add on technique for this medium, although convenient in the beginning for someone who has been out of practice... there is just too much problem solving and wait time between awkward pour in makeshift barriers.  So money put off to the side, I need to figure out the volume I can cover in a 25 lb bag and build a block mold to pour into, and then carve my piece out of it.  Then it can proceed to get bigger and bigger. 

This project is a throw back to an assignment I had in the beginning of art school for sculpture class.  It went terribly because the tools we were given were terrible options. too bad, because it really could have put my art on a different level, early in the game.  Yes, I still may cry over that spilled milk, but if this works out I am going to have some beautiful pieces on my hands and finally a foot back into an art practice that doesn’t feel mentally grating. Hopefully it will work out for the best but first, math.

Got some clear gesso today.  I need to find a brand that doesn’t add grit to it.  If I wanted to really work to get the right surface for this medium I’d have to apply multiple layers and sand with a fine grit.  I’m not sure how much detail I would lose after X number of layers added on top of the drawing because this gesso does have a opaque quality that could probably create obstructions after a number of layers.

In the long run... I’m going to need to rent a studio.  Not sure when but it will be exciting when I eventually can.

This morning I almost scared myself because I thought my nice headphones stopped being able to pick up charge. Luckily that isn’t the case.  These headphones have really changed a part of my life, I have never had something like them but being able to listen to music and really close out sound around you is a big plus in my book.  The plush banding on the top is starting to wear, but I will be excited when I can replace that with a soft leather and cotton stuffing, adding that extra layer of refurbished customization.  

Man, I am full of it today.  Can anyone believe that I spent my childhood in a fair amount of silence? Because when I am happy I do spend time on gabbing and working things out.  Whatever though.  A lot of my time is spent dreaming about when my art practice is finally up and running again.  I could just make art for myself and be pleased.  It doesn’t need to go anywhere, and I’m even happy to destroy it or take monetary loss by giving it to someone instead.

What if I become one of those people that just keeps going back to school and getting different degrees?  I guess it’s just important that you spend life how you want to and make sure you indulge in what enriches you.  I could see myself getting a few degrees, probably learn a language or two, live in a different country.  study landscape architecture, turn it into a community profiting and awareness art.  I wish my parents didn’t try to fuck me over so badly in college. well... they kind of continuously fucked me over by essentially showing they didn’t want children (through their actions and behaviors, they will deny that to the moon and back if you state that though). 

So.  Today is math for volume calculation.  And groceries. I’m going to need laundry detergent soon.  I emailed an astrologer about a chart read, I’m not sure what I want read but I figure that can be sorted if I do get a reading. I need to find someone to cover the first hour of my shift on Friday.  Also Friday is payday. These past two weeks have really hit me straight in the wallet, definitely adding to anxiety.  Do I smoke now?  Really I want a five minute nap.  It’s so early in the day though, it kind of reminds me of working in Washington state.

It’s February already, can you believe it?

[vickeyeppunitarj42insurance-blog]

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[thejustinmarshall]

Anya Miller On Climbing, Cancer, And Creative Strategy

NOTE: In 2018, I started recording interviews with creatives (writers, filmmakers, podcasters, photographers, editors, etc.) in the adventure world. I’m publishing the highlights of those interviews monthly in 2019.

Everyone finds their way into adventure storytelling in a different way, but Anya Miller’s journey to working on film projects, creative campaigns, and podcasts for Duct Tape Then Beer is definitely one of the less straightforward ones: It started with a career in architecture, then bedbugs, then cancer, then a mid-career internship making the same salary she made as a lifeguard in high school, then a job at a big design and creative firm, then finally going to work with two of her longtime friends, Fitz and Becca Cahall. Oh, and lots of climbing, snowboarding, mountain biking.

You’ve probably seen something Anya had a hand in making, even if you didn’t know it. As the Director of Brand and Creative Strategy at Duct Tape Then Beer, she does a little bit of: creative strategy, art direction, graphic design, film production, story development, photo editing, and whatever else needs to be done as part of a small team that makes two adventure podcasts (The Dirtbag Diaries and Safety Third, and films like Follow Through and Paul’s Boots.

Duct Tape Then Beer’s client list includes a lot of the biggest names in the outdoor industry: REI, Outdoor Research, Patagonia, The North Face, The Access Fund, Protect Our Winters, National Geographic, Black Diamond, Chaco, Arcteryx, Subaru, and others. I’ve been lucky to work with Anya on a short film project and see how she works (and how she draws), and why Fitz and Becca invited her to be part of their creative team.

I asked Anya to sit down for an interview a few weeks ago—here’s our conversation, edited for length:

ON GROWING UP IN CHATTANOOGA I’m the youngest of four kids. I was born in Canada in a small town called Hespler, Ontario. I have two sisters and a brother, and they are the best. My siblings really shaped my ideas of what I thought was cool, what I wanted to do with my life. Be good at school. Be Good at sports. Be able to talk with anyone with curiosity. I always wanted to do everything that they did. My brother says that my super power is absorbing other people’s super powers. I think of it more as just learning from rad people.

My parents were divorced when I was five — it was a really rough relationship and so I was a pretty stressed out kid. When I was twelve, my mom decided to move from Canada back to her home town of Chattanooga, Tennessee. Moving to the South was probably one of the best things that happened in my life because it put me in a more nature-focused place. In Canada, we lived in a small old town with stone buildings and neighborhoods full of kids. Getting outside meant going to the local school and hitting a tennis ball up against a giant brick wall, cruising on bikes in the street or watching my brother and his friends skateboard in the Taco Bell parking lot. When I moved to Tennessee, we moved in with my grandmother, Gigi, who was like a second mom to me. She lived on a small acreage that had been part of her family farm for three generations. She lived and passed on the same plot of land where she was born — so land was important. There were tomato plants, frogs, lightning bugs, fresh mint and magnolia trees — space to just run around. We were close to a lake, so I would run down there to feed ducks and swim.

There were a lot less kids nearby, so I spent a lot of time with my sister Michaela and Gigi outside — working in the yard, playing checkers and drinking sun tea. Moving to Tennessee really set a different tone for the rest of my growing up and for my life.

My family was not an outdoor adventure family at all. My mom was a single parent with four kids, so she got us into as many organized sports programs as possible to deal with our energy levels and probably just to free up some personal time for her.

I did gymnastics, played soccer and tennis and eventually got into diving. Those sports were great for strength and discipline, but I experienced a lot of injury in high school, specifically in soccer. It seemed like I was working really hard athletically, only to then be at the mercy of some overly aggressive hack on the field.

I broke my leg the summer before senior year of high school and basically was just done with soccer — I hated every bit of it at that point, so I washed my hands of team sports. My sister was a pro cyclist at the time and gave me her old aluminum Trek 1500 and I started riding all the time. It changed my idea of distance and freedom. At this point, I was figuring out where I wanted to go to university. I hadn’t ever even been west of the Mississippi at that point — but somehow I thought that I where I wanted to be.

[photo by Anne Cleary]

  ON MOVING OUT WEST There was an image — and this does not sound that deep at all, but it was an image the old rubber-banded Patagonia Capilene packaging. Steph Davis was climbing some crack. I had never rock climbed in my life and I didn’t know who Steph Davis was at the time, but what I saw  was just a super-strong female and she had chalk on her face and her hair was whipping in the wind. Didn’t look perfect, looked like she was trying hard in a wild place, and I wondered where she was. I was inspired by her, but I was also inspired by the place and the sea of rock she was moving through. I’d never been to a place so arid or stoic.

None of my family lived out west then. All of my siblings were either still in Canada or in the southeast. I just thought the west seemed amazing. I was the last of four siblings at home, and I made no secret of the fact that I wanted to go far away, not have a support network and just see how it would go.

I remember sending away to University of Colorado and getting this information packet that had a VHS tape in it. I wish I still had it! It was so ridiculous. It had 80s synth music and this dude rollerblade shredding around the campus, giving a sort of tour. It wasn’t a causal rollerblade tour. The guy was getting rad on campus and pointing out different buildings! As I said, I was kind of a stressed out kid in school. I made straight A’s and was valedictorian. From that rollerblading video, I guess it seemed like CU was a good place for a stressed out, sometimes-too-serious kid to go.

So I applied the School of Environmental Design and Architecture, and went.

ON DRAWING I can’t remember not drawing. I was always drawing things. In hindsight, I probably just should’ve gotten an art degree. But I think when I was making the college decision, all of my siblings were sociology majors or history majors, which can be cryptic majors to develop a career from. I think I went into school with a practical driven idea that I would know exactly what I was going to do when I got out of school if it killed me.

Considering the different programs that CU offered, it looked like their environmental design program was good. It focused on sustainable architecture and reuse of old buildings, which I was interested in — my mom collected antiques and love making old things new. Plus, I thought architecture was practical. Theoretically, that major equals a decently clear career path after school. Maybe almost too clear of a path — it can be hard to stray from.

I was always drawing as a kid. I remember getting Calvin and Hobbes cartoon books for holidays. I’d go through the pages and duplicate all of the cartoons, hundreds of them. I didn’t trace them — I just redrew them identically, right down to the word bubbles and writing. I did that with Snoopy, Garfield and Far Side comics, too. I really liked cartoons in general. They were funny, they had a dry sense of humor that reminded me of my brother. He cultivated my sense of humor, for sure. He helped explain some of the more complex cartoons and cultural concepts in them.

I would draw on my own, too. For hours at a time. Sharks and birds. My own hands. I’d look at magazine covers and draw them. Time magazine’s person of the year. National Geographic — that woman with the crazy aqua eyes. There were a bunch of skateboard magazines sitting around the house — my brother was a skateboarder. I’d try to redraw the Thrasher logo, which is a really tricky logo to redraw, by the way! I liked looking at that stuff because it seemed raw and cool, for whatever reason.

ON FINDING CLIMBING My first time climbing was on Flagstaff in Boulder. The granodiorite up there is this weird conglomerate rock — it is pretty grippy until its little embedded pebbles get polished. I remember just thinking how cool it was up there. It was so accessible! And at that point, it was pretty quiet there. I lived close to the trails, so I could jog up Flag. I loved that I could go whenever I wanted to. Even at night. I didn’t have a car in university. I didn’t have a car in high school, either, so I fell in love with things that I could do right out of my door with little equipment or support from anyone.

Climbing wasn’t like skiing or snowboarding — you needed a good chunk of money and a car to do those things. Climbing, and bouldering in particular, was something that I could walk out my door, do on my own and have complete control over my experience. With team sports, I couldn’t control my experience. It felt like other people could injure me. At least I had (kind of) had control over whether I hurt myself.

The transition from bouldering to tying into a rope was pretty quick for me. I ended up stumbling into a really good group of people that were better climbers than I was. Probably within the first few months of climbing, I drove with them out to Wild Iris. I remember not really understanding the concept of grades that much, just deciding what I wanted to try based on aesthetics and the encouragement of my friends. I’d say, “That thing looks good! I’ll try that.” It was really important to me to know that my friends believe in me. They did, and I got better quickly.

It was within the first month of climbing that I wanted to try to lead something. Everything about the sport was exciting — I just wanted something of my own. And it seemed like something I could have, in terms of just being able to develop my skills at whatever pace I wanted. I climbed so much (and probably so badly) when I started that I constantly had injured fingers and weeping skin.

[photo by Anne Cleary]

  ON HER FIRST JOB After graduation, the job market was okay. I wanted to stay in Boulder for a little bit. Right out of school, I got a job at a small, residential architecture firm. They were modern and fun and also did a bit of branding and graphic design for the buildings they made. That rollerblade video was full of shit — I worked my ass off in school. I could have gotten a job at a bigger, better-paying firm, but a smaller shop felt more ‘me’. A lot of people in my class were going to giant corporate firms down in Denver or other cities, but I was more interested in smaller scale residential design — and I was more interested in working closely with clients and staying close to the mountains.

That shop was a safe place to escape to after being intense (again) throughout school. I didn’t want to jump into a high-intensity job. There, I got exposed to graphic design, brand design and architecture. They did a lot of the drawing by hand, which I loved. Right then, things were teetering on being all computer-based. Eventually, we did take all drawings into the computer, but all of the concept iteration was hand-drawn. All of the renderings were hand-drawn, which I got to do and loved.

ON LEAVING BOULDER The person I was dating at the time is now my husband, and I think after about a year in Boulder, Charlie and I were pretty ready to take off. We decided to take a trip to South America,  go to Chile and Argentina to go snowboarding and skiing down there.

We were at a resort called Las Leñas, which has an amazing zone of lift-access / assisted  backcountry. One day, Charlie and I were riding separately. It was really crap conditions and I kind of got off my line and was a bit lost. I saw these people just beyond me on this plateau with sastrugi all over it. It was sunny, but windy, like hard-to-move type wind. And I remember seeing a few people and thinking, “They look like Americans,” I screamed out to them, “Hey, can I ride with you guys?”

So we basically get together on that random plateau in Argentina. Maura Mack, her husband Jason, and Adam DesLauriers. We rode a shitty, icy line together and had a hilarious experience in super bad conditions. We got down and decided to go get beers and hamburgers and meet up with their buds, Lel Tone and Tom Wayes. Charlie joined us at the end of the day, and we all went to a hot spring and had non-stop, hilarious conversations. They felt like our people and they told us we should move to Tahoe. A week after we got back from Argentina, we decided to go to Tahoe and check it out. They set us up with a place to live, I got an architecture job, and Charlie started working at Granite Chief, tuning skis. Plus, it was only a short drive from Bishop. I was sold.

ON MEETING FITZ AND BECCA CAHALL That first year in Tahoe, I spent a lot of time in this really tiny climbing gym, if you could even call it that. The Sports Exchange in Truckee. It was really just a used gear shop that had a room in the back with some holds on a woody. But I spent a ton of time there, looking for friends like those I had left in Boulder.

There weren’t a ton of women climbing in there. I saw Becca Cahall — she was strong and I decided, “That girl’s gonna be my friend.” I like to say that I ‘picked her up in the climbing gym’. We started talking, I met Fitz, and Charlie and I started going over to their place in Kings Beach every week for dinner. Becs makes a mean lasagna. It’s amazing at that point in time in my life how much time I had — or made — to connect and chat with people.

We started climbing with those two. At the time, I think Fitz was in the very early stages of starting The Dirtbag Diaries and he was doing a bunch of writing for print publications. Becca was often gone during the summers, doing field biology work in Oregon. And Fitz and I would climb a good bit together in the summers when she was gone. The friendship really started from there.

They moved to Corvallis, Oregon, for Becca’s graduate program. From there, they moved to Seattle. Charlie and I were still in Tahoe, but we kept in touch with those guys and saw them whenever they came through. We were in Tahoe for just over seven years and I was working at an architecture firm there. I was getting really tired of designing 3,000 square foot “cabins” for people from the Bay Area. Architecture was barely providing a living in a mountain town that’s difficult to make a living in. But it wasn’t really filling me up creatively.

Charlie was tending bar, skiing a bunch and tuning skis — at some point, he wanted more of an intellectual pursuit. He started looking around at programs to get his MBA. He was interested in getting into the creation ski clothing and technical outerwear. We were poking around for schools for him — we chose Seattle because of its creative opportunities and proximity to mountains. He had also grown up in Washington, so family was a draw. It was a huge benefit that Becca and Fitz had already made camp here.

Charlie got into the University of Washington and I found a really great position at a firm called Graham Baba Architects. I basically walked into a dream job in an outrageously bad job market. So it just seemed like everything fell into place. Then I found myself in the city. I never really thought I would live in a city, but all of a sudden, I was.

Pretty soon after we moved to the city, I convinced Charlie to take half of a year of his MBA program and in France. So I took an eight-month sabbatical from the architecture firm, even though I hadn’t really been there that long. I spent the season climbing in Fontainebleau. We lived in the 11th in Paris, and traveled around to Italy and Switzerland to do some climbing and snow sports.

ON CANCER When we got back from Europe, I ended up getting a rash all over my body. I thought I had developed a food allergy, so I went to a doctor and I went to a naturopath to get tested for food allergies.

She said, “No, sweetie, you don’t have an allergy. You have bed bugs.” They were pretty common in France at that time, come to find out. She told me how to get rid of them and offered to do my annual exam while I was there (she was a nurse practitioner, too). She does a breast exam on me and she says she feels something. A lump. I could tell she felt like it was bad. She said, “I think you should go get this checked out.” For whatever reason, I just knew there was something wrong. I hadn’t been feeling well, but I couldn’t really attribute anything. Had I not brought those bed bugs back from Europe, I might not have found the tumor. I fucking love bed bugs.

So the very next day I got in for a biopsy at one of the cancer centers in Seattle, and it came back as Triple Negative Breast Cancer. That’s an invasive form of breast cancer. All at once and very quickly, things slowed down for me and sped up, if that makes any sense. I went through a  series of tests to see what the extent of the cancer was — full body scans to see if it the cancer was anywhere else. Waiting for those results was terrifying. I was trying to figure out my course of treatment, and just trying to understand and grapple with everything.

I was whisked into chemotherapy, and that was a crazy, awful chunk of treatment. It stops all fast-growing cells — like cancer — from producing in your body. That’s why your hair falls out  — your hair is fast-growing cell. I decided to take some control and shave my head before my hair really fell out. It just seemed like a helpless situation.

Can you believe that I had a wig made of my own hair? I had it made, and then I never wore it. Not once. It just sat on this weird styrofoam head in the corner of the bedroom the entire time. It was like this weird little animal sitting in the corner. I don’t know why I had it made. Like a security blanket, I think. When I put it on it felt like I was lying about what I was going through.

Chemotherapy just makes you feel acid washed from the inside out, but it’s what they said was the best and only treatment for my cancer type. Afterwards, I had surgery to take out the tumor, followed by radiation. You don’t fight cancer, you just weather it.

ON DECIDING TO SWITCH CAREERS Coming out of cancer, I realized that architecture wasn’t what I wanted to be doing. I wasn’t happy on a day-to-day basis. At that point, after all the cancer stuff, I realized I could pull the plug on architecture and not feel bad at all. I deeply realized that time is short and that I didn’t want to spend a single day doing something that I didn’t love. So I started looking around for other things.

I sat down with my pen and paper, as I usually do. I drew out my problem. I basically tried to draw an infographic of the things that I liked about architecture and the things that I didn’t. I mapped out all of the tasks that I did in between the beginning and end of an architecture project, starting from the first client meeting and ending with them moving into their new or redone house.

Overlayed on the project timeline, I drew an up-and-down heartbeat line. It trended up when I loved the project tasks, and it would go down when I really didn’t like what I was having to do. This line didn’t correlate to difficulty of task — all jobs have hard parts that need grit to get through. True. But this helped me understand what I didn’t like and why.

When I looked at my infographic of my life, it seemed like such a small portion of every project had a loving heartbeat line. The ratio of I love this to I really don’t was just not enough. This visual helped me communicate with people that I was having coffee chats or meeting with, exploring new careers and positions. I could point to the graphic and say these are the things that I’m doing in every project that A) I really excel at and B) fill me up emotionally and really satisfy me as a professional and a creator. Clear, insightful visuals are so key to having good conversations.

I met with a guy who worked at a brand agency. He said, “You really seem like a creative strategist or a brand strategist.” I said, “Okay cool — what is that?” Basically, a strategist makes creative plans and develops foundational ideas that give meaning and inspiration to projects. Strategy helps teams of understand and fulfill creative goals. I wasn’t sure I understood it at first, but I finally had a job title to search for online. I didn’t even know that job existed.

So I started looking for jobs as a creative strategist. I came across an internship that was being offered. This job was definitely aimed at someone ten years younger than me. It was at brand and design firm here in Seattle called Hornall Anderson. Basically, I took my infographic and my architecture portfolio into the interview. I got the job.

[photo by Ken Etzel]

  ON HOW BRAND STRATEGY RELATES TO ARCHITECTURE Essentially, I figured out that creating a house or a space for somebody to use is really similar to creating a brand. In the beginning of an architecture project, you meet the people that you’re going to be working with, the people that will live in that house. You understand how they want to live, the types of spaces they’ll need for their specific lifestyle. You understand the land they have to build on, whether it’s really hilly or flat. You understand the adjacent buildings and you decide how you want your building to respond to those around it. Stand out? Fit in? Be crazy or subdued? Be earthy or modern? You consider budget and you consider the builders that will actually create building. You chart a creative course.

At the end of the day, that planning process that I learned in architecture can be applied to almost any creative project, especially brands. You take a brand. You look at the landscape — where is it going to sit? You understand the brands that sit around it. You consider how your brand is going to respond to, compliment or go against those adjacent brands. You learn about the people that will be ‘living in that brand’ —  the people that are running it and the people that will be purchasing its goods. You set a creative intention that helps develop a solid plan for your building or your brand. Or solid plan for making a film. Or an advertising campaign. Or an event. Whatever that is, there can always be a front-end structuring and creative process that helps you launch into ‘making’ in a considered, intentional and (hopefully) unique way.

ON DOING AN INTERNSHIP IN THE MIDDLE OF HER CAREER I got the internship and it was three months long — terrible pay, of course. But I learned a lot. I had also been in the professional world for ten years at that point. I got hired the day my internship ended, and started working as a Brand and Creative Strategist.

The internship was definitely a proxy for going back to school. I’d definitely recommend it. That job gave me amazing experience and mentors. There, I was able to develop my own techniques of working through brand problems with large teams. Strategists shape clear creative ideas so that it is easier for multiple people to express them.

ON JOINING DUCT TAPE THEN BEER I worked at Hornall for several years. It was the type of agency that had ping pong tables and kegs of beer and free cereal for breakfast. All of those things meant that they wanted you to never leave! I worked a ton, my climbing dropped off. I felt pretty unhealthy. Creatively, I was producing a lot of awesome stuff, working with big brands and talented designers — but eventually it felt a bit soulless. You can only use your intelligence and creativity to sell potato chips for so long.

I wanted to be climbing more. Through those first six years in Seattle, I was of course hanging out with Becca and Fitz. We loved talking about professional and creative stuff. I was always tracking on what Duct Tape Then Beer was doing. One night, I went over to their house and held a little facilitated visual Post-It party to chat with them about creative goals, what they were working on and what they wanted to be. At this point, they had positioned themselves pretty squarely as a film production company and of course The Dirtbag Diaries were still going strong.

When I was at that large agency, I saw people making films and content for brands in categories other than the outdoor industry. I saw how campaigns were being created and how solid, unique creative was being monetized. Basically, I wanted to help Duct Tape expand what they offered. People were coming to Duct Tape saying: We want a film. And then Fitz and Becca would ask: What do you need a film about and why? The brands rarely had good or solid answers for these questions. Maybe they didn’t actually need a film — maybe the brand actually needed a perspective.

Essentially, Duct Tape Then Beer had been creating emotional, unique perspectives for brands and expressing them in films. The value though, for the first years, had been being placed on the film outcome rather than the strategy and thinking that needs to be done before a good story is told.

ON WHAT SHE DOES AT DUCT TAPE THEN BEER Fitz and Becca told me they thought they could hire me. That was a big deal. I was really wary of working with good friends. I had always kept my personal life and work pretty separate. I just didn’t want to ruin our friendship by working together every single day, or having weird professional interactions with folks that I love so much. Eventually, those guys just talked me down from the ledge. They said their first priority was keeping our friendship solid — and they thought we could make some really cool things together. They said we would only work with brands and strengthen and nurture connections to the natural world. They said I could go climbing. That was it. I ended up leaving the big agency and joining Duct Tape to develop a brand strategy offering so that we could answer the brand questions before the topic of the creative output was even addressed.

Before a creative expression (film, messaging, campaign) is ever decided upon, we crystallize emotional ideas that will elicit action. How will we express an emotional idea? Maybe a film. Maybe a podcast. Maybe new headlines or messaging that gets rolled out over a few years. Maybe a social media campaign. Maybe an event. But we always start with clear, emotional ideas.

There aren’t many projects that come through Duct Tape Then Beer that I don’t have some sort of hand in. But you could say that about all of us — we all touch every project. Our skills overlap and are complementary. I make all of the pitch decks. I don’t like to admit that I am a writer — it was always so hard for me — but it has flowed as I’ve gotten older. If it’s a story that Fitz discovered, he’ll write it up and then I design a compelling story deck — sometimes with infographics —  to get our ideas across. I do a lot of strategy work for us internally and for our clients. I do the graphic design and edit the photos that come out of our office, functioning as the art director and social media person. But my official title is Director of Brand and Creative Strategy.

Our podcasts need a good bit of overarching creative strategy. We don’t just haphazardly assort stories and guests. We look at culture and we try to understand what’s going on and try to actively seek out stories that express complex, emotional topics in today’s world. I’ll work to help shape this topic mix.

At the helm of Duct Tape, we’ve got five full-time people. We are all seasoned creatives and high-functioning human beings that love to contribute and work hard for each other. I think that’s what makes project good  — when several smart people contribute in a considered way.

ON SNOWBOARDING VS. SKIING I snowboard. I skied when I was tiny in Canada a couple of times. Since being in Colorado, I’ve been a snowboarder. More and more, I stay out of resorts and am loyal to my splitboard and to snow that makes no noise. I’ve had three torn ACLs on one leg. I’ve torn my meniscus three times. So yea, I ride snow that makes no noise. Luckily, soft snow is usually easy to find in Washington.

ADVICE It was scary and hard for me to leave behind a profession that I’d put a lot of time and energy into. But I knew, deep down, that I didn’t enjoy it. My advice? Take some time and be really honest with yourself about what you like doing (and why) and what you don’t like doing (and why). Because every job is going to have something that sucks about it. Really anything worth doing is going to be pretty hard at some point, so the answer, “I don’t like doing this because it’s too hard,” is bullshit.

But I do recommend that process that I went through. Visually mapping out what filled me up emotionally and what depleted me emotionally. Visualizing that was so helpful. And clear. And it helped me realize what I wanted to be spending my time doing. Continually revisiting those two questions: What do I like doing and why? What do I not like doing and why? Continually revisiting those has been the most helpful thing for me over the last ten years.

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