#<- in relation to some of the asks folks send in to guide stories along

[charrfie]

[path-of-my-childhood]

The Story Behind Every Song on folklore - According to Aaron Dessner

By: Brady Gerber for Vulture Date: July 27th 2020

The National multi-instrumentalist spoke to Vulture over the phone from upstate New York a few hours after the surprise release of Swift’s eighth studio album. (“A pretty wild ride,” he admits, sounding tired yet happy.) He was clear that he can’t speak on behalf of Swift’s lyrics, much like he can’t for The National frontman Matt Berninger’s either, or the thinking behind Jack Antonoff’s songs. (Here’s a cheat sheet: Jack’s songs soar, Aaron’s glide.) But Dessner was game to speak to his specific contributions, influences, and own interpretations of each song on folklore, a record you can sum up by two words that came up often during our conversation: nostalgic and wry.

“the 1″

“the 1” and “hoax,” the first song and the last song, were the last songs we did. The album was sort of finished before that. We thought it was complete, but Taylor then went back into the folder of ideas that I had shared. I think in a way, she didn’t realize she was writing for this album or a future something. She wrote “the 1,” and then she wrote “hoax” a couple of hours later and sent them in the middle of the night. When I woke up in the morning, I wrote her before she woke up in LA and said, “These have to be on the record.” She woke up and said, “I agree” [laughs] These are the bookends, you know?

It’s clear that “the 1” is not written from her perspective. It’s written from another friend’s perspective. There’s an emotional wryness and rawness, while also to this kind of wink in her eyes. There’s a little bit of her sense of humor in there, in addition to this kind of sadness that exists both underneath and on the surface. I enjoy that about her writing.

The song began from the voice memo she sent me, and then I worked on the music some and we tracked her vocals, and then my brother added orchestration. There are a few other little bits, but basically that was one of the very last things we did.

“cardigan“

That’s the first song we wrote [in early May]. After Taylor asked if I would be interested in writing with her remotely and working on songs, I said, “Are you interested in a certain kind of sound?” She said, “I’m just interested in what you do and what you’re up to. Just send anything, literally anything, it could be the weirdest thing you’ve ever done,” so I sent a folder of stuff I had done that I was really excited about recently. “cardigan” was one of those sketches; it was originally called “Maple.” It was basically exactly what it is on the record, except we added orchestration later that my brother wrote.

I sent [the file] at 9 p.m., and around 2 a.m. or something, there was “cardigan,” fully written. That’s when I realized something crazy was happening. She just dialed directly into the heart of the music and wrote an incredible song and fully conceived of it and then kept going. It harkens back to lessons learned, or experiences in your youth, in a really beautiful way and this sense of longing and sadness, but ultimately, it’s cathartic. I thought it was a perfect match for the music, and how her voice feels. It was kind of a guide. It had these lower register parts, and I think we both realized that this was a bit of a lightning rod for a lot of the rest of the record.

The National’s Influence On Swift

She said that she’s a fan of the emotion that’s conveyed in our music. She doesn’t often get to work with music that is so raw and emotional, or melodic and emotional, at the same time. When I sent her the folder, that was one of the main feelings. She said, “What the fuck? How do you just have that?” [laughs] I was humbled and honored because she just said, “It’s a gift, and I want to write to all of this.” She didn’t write to all of it, but a lot of it, and relatively quickly.

She is a fan of the band, and she’s a fan of Big Red Machine. She’s well aware of the sentiment of it and what I do, but she didn’t ask for a certain kind of thing. I know that the film [I Am Easy To Find] has really affected her, and she’s very much in love with that film and the record. Maybe it’s subconsciously been an influence.

“the last great american dynasty”

I wrote that after we’d been working for a while. It was an attempt to write something attractive, more uptempo and kind of pushing. I also was interested in this almost In Rainbows-style latticework of electric guitars. They come in and sort of pull you along, kind of reminiscent of Big Red Machine. It was very much in this sound world that I’ve been playing around with, and she immediately clicked with that. Initially I was imagining these dreamlike distant electric guitars and electronics but with an element of folk. There’s a lot going on in that sense. I sent it before I went on a run, and when I got back from the run, that song was there [laughs].

She told me the story behind it, which sort of recounts the narrative of Rebekah Harkness, whom people actually called Betty. She was married to the heir of Standard Oil fortune, married into the Harkness family, and they bought this house in Rhode Island up on a cliff. It’s kind of the story of this woman and the outrageous parties she threw. She was infamous for not fitting in, entirely, in society; that story, at the end, becomes personal. Eventually, Taylor bought that house. I think that is symptomatic of folklore, this type of narrative song. We didn’t do very much to that either.

“exile” (ft. Bon Iver)

Taylor and William Bowery, the singer-songwriter, wrote that song initially together and sent it to me as a sort of a rough demo where Taylor was singing both the male and female parts. It’s supposed to be a dialogue between two lovers. I interpreted that and built the song, played the piano, and built around that template. We recorded Taylor’s vocals with her singing her parts but also the male parts.

We talked a lot about who she thought would be perfect to sing, and we kept coming back to Justin [Vernon]. Obviously, he’s a dear friend of mine and collaborator. I said, “Well, if he’s inspired by the song, he’ll do it, and if not, he won’t.” I sent it to him and said, “No pressure at all, literally no pressure, but how do you feel about this?” He said, “Wow.” He wrote some parts into it also, and we went back and forth a little bit, but it felt like an incredibly natural and safe collaboration between friends. It didn’t feel like getting a guest star or whatever. It was just like, well, we’re working on something, and obviously he’s crazy talented, but it just felt right. I think they both put so much raw emotion into it. It’s like a surface bubbling. It’s believable, you know? You believe that they’re having this intense dialogue.

With other people I had to be secretive, but with Justin, because he was going to sing, I actually did send him a version of the song with her vocals and told him what I was up to. He was like, “Whoa! Awesome!” But he’s been involved in so many big collaborative things that he wasn’t interested in it from that point of view. It’s more because he loved the song and he thought he could do something with it that would add something.

“my tears ricochet”

This is one of my absolute favorite songs on the record. I think it’s a brilliant composition, and Taylor’s words, the way her voice sounds and how this song feels, are, to me, one of the critical pieces. It’s lodged in my brain. That’s also very important to Taylor and Jack. It’s like a beacon for this record.

“mirrorball”

“mirrorball” is, to me, a hazy sort of beautiful. It almost reminds me of ‘90s-era Cardigans, or something like Mazzy Star. It has this kind of glow and haze. It feels really good before “seven,” which becomes very wistful and nostalgic. There are just such iconic images in the lyrics [“Spinning in my highest heels”], which aren’t coming to me at the moment because my brain is not working [laughs].

How Jack Antonoff’s Folklore Songs Differ From Dessner’s

I think we have different styles, and we weren’t making them together or in the same room. We both could probably come closer together in a sense that weirdly works. It’s like an archipelago, and each song is an island, but it’s all related. Taylor obviously binds it all together. And I think Jack, if he was working with orchestrations, there’s an emotional quality to his songs that’s clearly in the same world as mine.

We actually didn’t have a moodboard for the album at all. I don’t think that way. I don’t really know if she does either. I don’t think Jack... well, Jack might, but when I say the Cardigans or Mazzy Star, those aren’t Jack’s words about “mirrorball,” it’s just what calls to mind for me. Mainly she talked about emotion and to lean into it, the nostalgia and wistfulness, and the kind of raw, meditative emotion that I often kind of inhabit that I think felt very much where her heart was. We didn’t shy away from that.

“seven”

This is the second song we wrote. It’s kind of looking back at childhood and those childhood feelings, recounting memories and memorializing them. It’s this beautiful folk song. It has one of the most important lines on the record: “And just like a folk song, our love will be passed on.” That’s what this album is doing. It’s passing down. It’s memorializing love, childhood, and memories. It’s a folkloric way of processing.

“august”

This is maybe the closest thing to a pop song. It gets loud. It has this shimmering summer haze to it. It’s kind of like coming out of “seven” where you have this image of her in the swing and she’s seven years old, and then in “august” I think it feels like fast-forwarding to now. That’s an interesting contrast. I think it’s just a breezy, sort of intoxicating feeling.

“this is me trying”

“this is me trying,” to me, relates to the entire album. Maybe I’m reading into it too much from my own perspective, but [I think of] the whole album as an exercise and working through these stories, whether personal or old through someone else’s perspective. It’s connecting a lot of things. But I love the feeling in it and the production that Jack did. It has this lazy swagger.

“illicit affairs”

This feels like one of the real folk songs on the record, a sharp-witted narrative folk song. It just shows her versatility and her power as a songwriter, the sharpness of her writing. It’s a great song.

“invisible string”

That was another one where it was music that I’d been playing for a couple of months and sort of humming along to her. It felt like one of the songs that pulls you along. Just playing it on one guitar, it has this emotional locomotion in it, a meditative finger-picking pattern that I really gravitate to. It’s played on this rubber bridge that my friend put on [the guitar] and it deadens the strings so that it sounds old. The core of it sounds like a folk song.

It’s also kind of a sneaky pop song, because of the beat that comes in. She knew that there was something coming because she said, “You know, I love this and I’m hearing something already.” And then she said, “This will change the story,” this beautiful and direct kind of recounting of a relationship in its origin.

“mad woman”

That might be the most scathing song on folklore. It has a darkness that I think is cathartic, sort of witch-hunting and gaslighting and maybe bullying. Sometimes you become the person people try to pin you into a corner to be, which is not really fair. But again, don’t quote me on that [laughs], I just have my own interpretation. It’s one of the biggest releases on the album to me. It has this very sharp tone to it, but sort of in gothic folklore. It’s this record’s goth song.

“epiphany”

For “epiphany,” she did have this idea of a beautiful drone, or a very cinematic sort of widescreen song, where it’s not a lot of accents but more like a sea to bathe in. A stillness, in a sense. I first made this crazy drone which starts the song, and it’s there the whole time. It’s lots of different instruments played and then slowed down and reversed. It created this giant stack of harmony, which is so giant that it was kind of hard to manage, sonically, but it was very beautiful to get lost in. And then I played the piano to it, and it almost felt classical or something, those suspended chords.

I think she just heard it, and instantly, this song came to her, which is really an important one. It’s partially the story of her grandfather, who was a soldier, and partially then a story about a nurse in modern times. I don’t know if this is how she did it, but to me, it’s like a nurse, doctor, or medical professional, where med school doesn’t fully prepare you for seeing someone pass away or just the difficult emotional things that you’ll encounter in your job. In the past, heroes were just soldiers. Now they’re also medical professionals. To me, that’s the underlying mission of the song. There are some things that you see that are hard to talk about. You can’t talk about it. You just bear witness to them. But there’s something else incredibly soothing and comforting about this song. To me, it’s this Icelandic kind of feel, almost classical. My brother did really beautiful orchestration of it.

“betty”

This one Taylor and William wrote, and then both Jack and I worked on it. We all kind of passed it around. This is the one where Taylor wanted a reference. She wanted it to have an early Bob Dylan, sort of a Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan feel. We pushed it a little more towards John Wesley Harding, since it has some drums. It’s this epic narrative folk song where it tells us a long story and connects back to “cardigan.” It starts to connect dots and I think it’s a beautifully written folk song.

Is ‘betty” queer canon? I can’t speak to what it’s about. I have my own ideas. I also know where Taylor’s heart is, and I think that’s great anytime a song takes on greater meaning for anyone.

Is William Bowery secretly Joe Alwyn? I don’t know. We’re close, but she won’t tell me that. I think it’s actually someone else, but it’s good to have some mysteries.

“peace”

I wrote this, and Justin provided the pulse. We trade ideas all the time and he made a folder, and there was a pulse in there that I wrote these basslines to. In the other parts of the composition, I did it to Justin’s pulse. Taylor heard this sketch and she wrote the song. It reminds me of Joni Mitchell, in a way - there’s this really powerful and emotional love song, even the impressionistic, almost jazz-like bridge, and she weaves it perfectly together. This is one of my favorites, for sure. But the truth is that the music, that way of playing with harmonized basslines, is something that probably comes a little bit from me being inspired by how Justin does that sometimes. There’s probably a connection there. We didn’t talk too much about it [laughs].

“hoax”

This is a big departure. I think she said to me, “Don’t try to give it any other space other than what feels natural to you.” If you leave me in a room with a piano, I might play something like this. I take a lot of comfort in this. I think I imagined her playing this and singing it. After writing all these songs, this one felt the most emotional and, in a way, the rawest. It is one of my favorites. There’s sadness, but it’s a kind of hopeful sadness. It’s a recognition that you take on the burden of your partners, your loved ones, and their ups and downs. That’s both “peace” and “hoax” to me. That’s part of how I feel about those songs because I think that’s life. There’s a reality, the gravity or an understanding of the human condition.

Does Taylor Explain Her Lyrics?

She would always talk about it. The narrative is essential, and kind of what it’s all about. We’d always talk about that upfront and saying that would guide me with the music. But again, she is operating at many levels where there are connections between all of these songs, or many of them are interrelated in the characters that reappear. There are threads. I think that sometimes she would point it out entirely, but I would start to see these patterns. It’s cool when you see someone’s mind working.

“the lakes”

That’s a Jack song. It’s a beautiful kind of garden, or like you’re lost in a beautiful garden. There’s a kind of Greek poetry to it. Tragic poetry, I guess.

The Meaning Of Folklore

We didn’t talk about it at first. It was only after writing six or seven songs, basically when I thought my writing was done, when we got on the phone and said, “OK, I think we’re making an album. I have these six other ideas that I love with Jack [Antonoff] that we’ve already done, and I think what we’ve done fits really well with them.” It’s sort of these narratives, these folkloric songs, with characters that interweave and are written from different perspectives. She had a vision, and it was connecting back in some way to the folk tradition, but obviously not entirely sonically. It’s more about the narrative aspect of it.

I think it’s this sort of nostalgia and wistfulness that is in a lot of the songs. A lot of them have this kind of longing for looking back on things that have happened in your life, in your friend’s life, or another loved one’s life, and the kind of storytelling around that. That was clear to her. But then we kept going, and more and more songs happened.

It was a very organic process where [meaning] wasn’t something that we really discussed. It just kind of would happen where she would dive back into the folder and find other things that were inspiring. Or she and William Bowery would write “exile,” and then that happened. There were different stages of the process.

Okay, but is it A24-core? [Laughs.] Good comparison. 

[ozarkhealingtraditions]

Spiritual Healing in the Time of a Pandemic

​More articles on my website!

I often think about my path as a healer in this time of so much sickness and death. My role, which has been so based in guiding and cleansing those suffering not only from physical illnesses but also sickness of the soul, has made me face my own insecurities and doubt in new and more complex ways. I wonder what healers across the world and throughout time have had deal with when facing similarly overwhelming chaotic forces. What songs they must have sang, what prayers they must have prayed as they watched their communities and families dwindle. It reminds me of a story a healer once told about her grandma who desperately tried to comfort and support her own community during the Spanish Flu outbreak. Despite her efforts, she was still left alone in the end, one of only three survivors in her own family along with a handful of others grieving so much loss. She was left to pick up the pieces and try and rebuild what was now in ruins.

The story this healer told me felt like a tale pulled from ancient times. It was only an anecdote or perhaps a warning about some far-off possibility that my mind at the time couldn’t even comprehend. I’ve revisited our conversation on many occasions lately. I can now relate to the countless sick who visited her and the many she wasn’t able to heal. I can now feel the same pain she felt at the amount of death she faced on a day-to-day basis. I remember asking the storyteller about what her grandma did for the living and the dead, desperately trying to sift out some sort of practical advice from amongst all the tragedy. One phrase stuck out for me at the time, something that I’ve been replaying in my mind over and over again lately: “She just tried to give people a good death.”

Healers here in the Ozarks and likewise from communities across the world, have historically had to face many incurable diseases and situations where the only answer is the inevitable end of a life. What does it mean to give someone a good death? Maintaining the comfort of the body, as best as we can, might contribute to this, but for me there’s a much deeper work that needs to be done as well. For those whose worldviews include a whole host of invisible entities that exist alongside the living, the soul often needs as much healing as the body.

As a Spiritist as well as a healer, I know that we as human beings are embodied spirits, whose purpose in this world is to learn what we can and grow before passing back into our spirit forms to be reborn again for more education. I’ve seen firsthand the effects of a tragic or violent death on the state of the soul. I’ve met spirits who were still wandering, confused by why the world and their families now ignored them, and angered by being pulled from their lives too soon. For me, giving someone a good death means nourishing and comforting this immortal spirit to prevent them from being lost in the shadows. It means offering a lamp, a light in the darkness and guide on the path ahead. I asked the storyteller how her grandma soothed these lost and dying spirits. She said that she read the Bible and sang hymns to many, even if they were unconscious, knowing that while the physical body might be sleeping, the soul was still awake. But for many others who weren’t religious she offered her own words of comfort, shaping their dreams from anxious and fearful locations to places of warmth and verdant peace where. With her songs she surrounded them not only by the healing presence of angels and family members, but also those guiding spirits ready to set them on their new path.

In the Ozark tradition, this idea of healing the spirit goes hand-in-hand with healing the body. Not only in the more modern sense of maintaining mental or emotional strength through the healing and dying processes, but also in a very literal interpretation of ensuring the spirit housed inside of a body knows what’s happening and that death might be near. Or, as one prayer I was taught begins, “Spirit inside this body, your body lies sick and dying.” As I was taught, this awakening of the spirit is vital in cases where the individual is unconscious on their deathbed as it’s believed their spirit might be wandering outside of the body, unaware of what is happening. Up until this year, I’ve never had to use this prayer and now I seem to be using it more and more as this sickness claims its victims.

In my experience, the nature of this virus leaves those infected in a dream-like state from lack of sleep, or worse in a simulated coma as they silently suffer on ventilators surrounded by other confused spirits. According to Ozark folk belief, this is the worst possibility for the individual soul, as it plunges them into a state of darkness while their body is completely unaware of its own decay. Traditional Ozark rituals surrounding deathbed care were once focused not only on maintaining the comfort of the body, but also seek to awaken the soul to what is happening. Fumigations of cleansing plants like red cedar (Juniperus virginiana) and tobacco are still used today by healers in the area to protect against angry ghosts who smell death in the home and try to lure away the spirit of the afflicted to join their gangs. Meanwhile, the soul is comforted with offerings of water, nourishing food, and kind words, with the hope that through this caregiving the soul will have an easier transition into the otherworld.

Today we’re left in a very different situation where so many are dying alone. As a healer, I struggle with this thought every day of my life. I struggle with the thought of so many spirits left behind wandering and confused. I’m pained by thinking about the spirits of the living, nurses, doctors, and hospice workers, who are nearing the end of their rope with no little to no support from those around them, completely unaware of whether their dying patients can even hear their kind words. Like so many other healers, I’m left without any advice or words of encouragement. I have no cure, no magic pill that will make everything better. I send out words into the ether, unsure of what effect they might actually have. I watch as more and more people die alone, and as many others contract a sickness that is completely unpredictable. I watch as so many gamble not only with their own health but actively seek to throw the lives of others into the gears of materialism. I fear for my own life and the lives of those closest to me, knowing full well that darker days might be ahead us. Under such a crushing weight, I find myself pulling inward. In my darkest hours, as I shake with grief and fear, I sing songs taught to me by others who have had to face similar times as these and for a moment I can see the flicker of a flame growing in the distance.

I sing songs to the souls of the dying, that they might be given peace and guidance. I sing songs to those suffering from this sickness, that their pain might be lessened, that they might face death bravely. I sing songs to the healers struggling to cope with their burden, that they might be strengthened in their work. I sing songs to the grieving families, that their own souls may be comforted. I sing songs to those with power, that they might see reason. I sing songs to the living, that they might see what a precious gift life really is.

I sing songs to give a good death.

[lordofthetrashbin]

Creature au

This has been bouncing in my head for so long but I haven’t figured out everything so i’m going to work on what I got.

Warning: Mentions of death, talk of people being eaten(Cannibalism? They’re humanoid monsters so i think it counts) , some implied suicidal intentions in Roman’s and Remus’s part which I marked it with a *** so you can skip it if you’d like. I don’t think it’s as bad as it sounds but i’d rather be safe then sorry.

Anyway

There’s this enchanted forest that lays on the border generic kingdom? place not really important to the story. This forest is split directly in half, one side beautiful and bright straight(Ha) out of a story book while the other half is dark and twisted, full of nightmares.

It doesn’t really matter what side you try to go through, few people are ever leave and when they do they’re either exhausted from being chased my monsters or dazed with only having a blurry memory of grinning faces and dances from the night before.

The only real way through the forest is in the gray normal area between the light and dark but even that’s dangerous from the creatures that hang around there.

Let’s get to the bois~

Roman & Remus: Guardian spirits of the forest(And the reason it’s split in two.)

They sort of have a bet going on which side of the forest can claim more people.

Normally when someone enters a forest of death they’re trying to get out the other side or not to get out at all. Of course, there are always those nasty “monster” hunters but they never last long once they’ve caught either of the twin's eye.

They could just let travels pass safely through the gray zone but what's the fun in that? Due to their bet, they both try and lure people in.

Roman normally uses flattery or bribery, he has grand parties that tempt people to join him in dance. Of course, once he’s done he’ll guide them to the other side of the forest and let them continue on their way but there have been times where people didn’t want to leave and who is he to refuse them?

Remus has found that his brand of flattery normally doesn’t work in his favor(unless he has a certain snake to help him) so he normally has to scare people into his side. He’s not technically allowed to hurt anyone in the gray but most people don’t know this, with some well placed illusions that block off Roman’s side has people fleeing into the darkness. A good chase is always welcomed and with him on their heels, he can guide them to the other side no problem except for the times he accidentally lured people into some dangerous flora but who’s counting

*** Of course, there are people who come into the forest with no intention of leaving. Remus tends to get these people more but Roman occasionally greets them, All they can do is offer these people a new life, they may not be Human anymore but the forest and it’s inhabitants welcome them.

(Fun dates for Roman include: Grand parties, dancing, moonlit walks.)

(Fun date for Remus include: Running for your life together, sparring, him trying to get eaten by plants.)

Logan: Unicorn Centaur

One of the last of his kind.

He was being chased across the countryside after his small herd was captured by hunters, Unicorns are very valuable after all and he had just barely escaped but still had hunters in pursuit of him. The small kindness of a young girl is the only thing that kept him safe, she hid him as the hunters passed by her town and then pointed him to the forest which she said had other centaurs like him.

When he arrived he chose to enter the lighter side, almost immediately greeted by a very excited Roman who had never met a unicorn before. His forest had centaurs but none were unicorns much to Logan’s disappointment.

Still, he was offered safety and a home that he couldn’t refuse. He now lives by the river near the gray area, being bothered all the time by his friends some persistent annoyances.

He has no ill will towards humans but will usually avoid them, on occasion though he will walk the path along the gray border with someone if they seem a bit young to be passing through on their own.

(Fun dates include: Relaxing by the river, long talks about local flora, maybe a ride on his back if you’re super duper lucky.)

Patton: Swan Maiden (Was once human.)

He was a traveler that didn’t really know what the forest was, he just saw beautiful trees and flowers that seemed to glow and wondered in completely unaware.

Imagine his surprise when a very handsome forest prince welcomes him offers him a wonderful time and the gay panicked mess that he was couldn’t refuse. The next thing he knew, he was waking up in the sunlight on the other side of the forest with barely any memory of the night before and a deep longing somewhere in his heart.

He goes to move on, considers himself lucky to alive but a year later he’s back and entering the forest again, Roman greets him with a grin and he finally remembers a night of dancing and making friends with people that accepted him with no problem. This time when the night is over, Patton asks to stay. He feels more at home than he ever had before and wasn’t looking forward to being alone on the road again. Roman gives him the choice of remaining human or truly joining the forest as something else.

Patton has time to choose, spending years living in the forest and making friends with creatures on both sides of the gray path before he makes his choice.

He half expected it to be painful but Roman just pulls him into the water and he hears both the wind and river singing for him as Roman drapes a coat lined with feathers around his shoulders. He excepted to change but he still feels the same even as his body changes and he spreads his wings.

(Fun dates include: Swimming, exploring the forest, you can pet his feathers if he trusts you enough.)

Virgil: Drider (Or Arachne but I like Drider)

He wasn’t born in the forest but grew up in it with some of his siblings after their mother's nest was set on fire by humans. He doesn’t blame the humans for it though since they were kinda eating some villagers.

Grew up near the edge of the dark side of the forest because his siblings stayed there to lure people in but eventually when they were all adults and started hating each other as most spider folk do, he moved and built a web deeper in the forest next to the gray path much to Remus’s delight and Roman’s displeasure.

Half his nest is burrowed underground and if someone doesn’t stay on the path around his area they are very likely to fall into one of his trap holes which he finds hilarious when it doesn’t scare the fuck out of him to see someone drop from the ceiling.

Away from his siblings, Virgil found himself eating fewer humans, Whither that’s because of a very human Patton dropping in(Accidentally the first time but eventually on purpose) to make falling related puns or because Roman would send deer into his web regularly in hopes of filling him is anyone’s guess.

He eventually moves his nest under the bridge that leads the gray path over the river. Mostly because Patton starts to live in the river once he’s no longer human and being this close he can bug the cute unicorn dude that’s pretty much his neighbor. Also can maybe scare some poor folk crossing the bridge, who knows

(Fun dates include: Relaxing in his web, him making sweaters for you out of his silk, harassing Roman.)

Deceit: Naga

Mysteriously showed up out of nowhere, neither of the twins knows how he got into the forest without them knowing and it drives Roman wild which leads to Remus welcoming him into the dark side with open arms.

He gives a different excuse each time he’s asked. “A harpy dropped me from the sky.” “I followed the underground tunnels the mole people left.” “I was just a normal snake until the accident accrued.”

He likes to play with the humans that wander into the forest, takes too much pleasure in teasing those that accidentally follow him in too deep. He usually leaves them back where they came from but he has a knack for finding hunters before they get in far and leading them into traps before they can harm anyone.

Deceit is one of the only reasons Remus is tied with Roman for luring people into the forest.

He lives in an abandoned burrow deeper in the forest but he’s only ever in it when it starts getting colder, otherwise he sneaks into Virgil’s nest to nap in all his soft silks and furs.

(Fun dates include: Sunbathing, cuddling while wrapped up in his tail, Him occasionally threatening to eat you.)

[unikornu]

Page 13, Reassurance,

Early morning at Nuka Town gives impression that its still asleep but it never is. Raider patrols are always on their watch to make sure traders do not slack and prepare their stations, just without excessive shouting due to early hours and half of them being hangover. Neither asleep was Gage and Lucy. They were heading relaxed towards the south exit, wind blowing rather strong today, raising the dust particles and paper scraps in the air. 

-You look rather…uhmm professional today, Boss. Gage pointed out looking at the white sturdy vest with a high collar around the neck. It was striking Institute right in the face but it had more combat aspect to it rather than the appearance of the usual lab coat especially that she still kept her spiked bracers on. With a tight pants and sleeves combined with some additional reinforcements into the grey fabric it almost looked like a field agent suit. He wasn’t complaining one bit about it, once he took a good look at her back and dropped his eye lower. 

- Ekhem. Lucy grunted under her nose pulling her hair into a ponytail and directing his attention back up to her. - Since Lizzie managed to burn holes in my usual clothes after last trip i had to find a temporary replacement. Institute provided me with it as i agreed to be their agent on the ground before i came here.

- Institute shitheads…i really hope they won’t interfere with our plan Boss. I know they are involved in some shady stuff out there but, shit… you have been there, ya know better, i hope. Gage looked at her raising his eyebrow. He knew the eggheads were the only ones Lucy didn’t turn away so far, hell, she’s been even sending them occasional reports on her situation and to his surprise after each one sent there would a package awaiting for them under the famous corpse “decorated’ tree that was burning each night spreading the smoke and stench of fresh victims that didn’t escape the gangs thirst for caps and blood.

- I think they just want to survive and reach their own goals, pushing their plans, no matter the cost even if its humanity…not so different than us, don’t ya think? We, here, just lack uhm, some control and manners i guess? And we don’t run around in clean lab coats. She ended her thought with a shrug looking for a small confirmation back from the raider.

-Maybe….i dunno Boss..but still, lots of folks out there never dare to raise their fucking nose higher out of their stupid little lives to see all of this deeper like us,  so we will have to deal with their opinion the usual way, my favorite one. He smiled with a corner of his mouth at the thought.

They passed the station and decided to take the first stop at the remains of the small town nearby. 

----- -So who are those Hubologists that we are about to visit? Never heard of them. Are they any threat to us?

-Threat? - Gage laughed. -No…but they sure are weird as fuck. I pointed a gun at one of them once and the shithead still asked me if i’m truly happy. And then he just walked away like nothing happened. I guess we find out more today, Boss. 

They strolled slowly through the ruins with their weapons prepared for any surprise awaiting in the shady, crumbling corners. Instead they heard some voices deeper into the town and sounds of a brawl. They nodded at each other and rushed towards the noise. Peeking from behind the wall they noticed a troubled caravan trying to fend off a group of hungry oversized crickets. 

-Cmon Gage, lets help them first and ask questions later. She ordered but Gage hesitated a bit as he wasn’t always feeling like giving a helping hand to a strangers but eventually listened and went after her, growling under the nose. After a short struggle with nasty jumpy invaders traders turned towards the duo pointing their guns at them. There were five of them, three men dressed as an escort and two women. 

- Easy there. Lucy backed off a step, raising her knife in the air. - We just saw you were in trouble and felt like jumping in.

- Right…i’m sorry. We just prefer to be sure you are not raiders trying to steal from us. Eh, its ok men. Just put the gun down. The woman with short dark blond hair stepped out and ordered.  

- Are you a trader? And how did you end up here? It’s not very….common road. Lucy punched Gage with an elbow to put his rifle down as well.

- Yes, we are merchants. I’m Cora. After our village didn’t survive the attack of  the super mutants we decided to move on and we heard about Diamond City. We are just on our way there. Are you from…? She looked down at her suit squinting her eyes in suspicion.

-Institute? Oh no no…i’m just a field scientist, Lucy, helping some folks in Nuka Town with local…flora and getting some materials for my work. She lied and smiled at her. - And this is my lovely mercenary Porter that i hired to protect me out there. Lot of nasty bugs. She patted him on the shoulder like a good pup. Gage was about to punch her in the arm but noticed what she was stirring there and decided to leave it for later. - You mentioned Diamond City? Its still a long road. Why don’t you just stop by the Nuka Town? 

- We actually never heard of it. Everyone were saying that Diamond City is the best stopping big point right now and very safe for traders. 

- Of course, because they have never been in Nuka Town. It is as safe as Diamond City and i can guarantee you that can get really good deals there. And as a scientist i do have quite high standards. You should really check it out first, with your group you can get there in around two hours. Look i can show you in this tiny little device. She approached Cora and showed her a location of Nuka Town on her map. With her looks and some basic science babble on how she got a working pipboy she managed to convince them to stop by Nuka Town. 

-Dayum Boss…i was not expecting you doing that. He whispered to her as they were waving back at the Cora in the distance.

-Doing what? Lying to them…partly? They sat in the patio chairs in the camp left by traders to catch on a snack and drink before moving to Hubologists. 

- You know what’s gonna happen. You might see them in a few days..just they won’t be that grateful this time but..screw em. You just pushed yourself to the next level Boss. Gage grinned proudly but Lucy got stirred for a moment in her thought process on what she just did. It all happened so natural and fast, no doubt stopped her at any second of it. Was she becoming truly evil, heartless? Or just stepping up in a survival ladder and shaping every occasion to benefit her community.

- Hey Boss…heyyyyy. He shook her by the shoulder.

-Ugh sorry i got caught again in some..thoughts. She raised her hand and brushed the inner corners of her eyes. Gage wasn’t very much for a talk but he at least wanted to show at least a little bit of interest beyond the usual routine from time to time.

-Um..something troubling you Boss? He asked and offered her a cigarette.

- Did you ever lie so much in your life that you actually felt bad for it at some point? She snatched a smoke out of the pack.

- I don’t think so Boss….as i started my fucked up “career” quite early. I kind of lied to my parents promising them to take care of everything as i grow up, be a good man or some shit. I ended up just taking care of myself but i accepted the facts and moved on pretty fast. He lighted one for himself and stuffed the pack back into his pocket in ugly fashion.

- I lied to my partner before, our whole time actually but i loved him at the same time. The longer it was going the easier was lying but at the end of the day i felt more and more like shit for hiding what i was doing, with my boss and the gangs. And he truly loved me back and believed everything to the very end. It wasn’t fair for him. She left out a deep sigh along with the smoke. 

-Look..Boss. That is gone and none of it matter here anymore. I don’t care who you were before. What is fucking important is if what ya do feels right for ya and if it keeps your head on your shoulders. Sometimes you might need to dirty your hands up to get there but…yeh. Gage stood up and threw a smoke to the ground. 

-So far you didn’t have to lie to yourself, neither to me as you came here so i guess….you’re good eh? He looked down at her, with reassuring smile and offered her a hand. He usually failed at offering any kind of support other than the one related to bullets but he was quite convinced he managed to deliver some of it this time.

- Ye…i think you are right, okay, enough of this. Lets go. She grabbed his palm and pulled herself up focusing her mind back to their daily task. He was right, she even told him back at cappy cafe that she can finally openly express how partly wicked she is and the only consequence is a bullet in her or someone's else head.

Upon entering a a Hubologists camp Lucy immediately rolled her eyes towards the huge fire hydrant. She was about to say how fucked up of an idea it is but then again it was Nuka World so this was still falling into almost normal category along with museum of shovels. 

-Welcome stranger! I’m Dara. A woman with grey short hair wearing something that looked like a spacesuit…more of a costume than a spacesuit came right up to them. Her overwarm welcoming already felt strange.

-Uhmm hello? You are the leader of hubologist? Lucy asked.

-So you heard of us? Fantastic! I was hoping you would finally join us on this great path that Star Father has guided us towards! Dara started explaining the greatness of her “cult” and Lucy slowly started to get the idea of what they are, as along with Gage her face was twisting into a confusion and she abruptly stopped Dara from talking any further, raising the palm of her hand in front of the woman.

- Dara…ye? No offense but..you guys are fucked up in the head quite…much, not sure on what drugs are you but even i wouldn’t dare to try, so..i will pass on further..cosmic story. Gage hold his chuckle to himself as Lucy pointed out with total seriousness in her voice.

- It’s a shame then that you think that but… i might have something else for you then. Dara face also turned into serious expression, losing her crazy vibe in that moment. - I need more spacesuits from the Galaxy Zone  you look quite…for a task. 

- Oh, really?  Spacesuits? What the hell you need spacesuits for? Lucy looked at Gage but he only gave her a shrug back. 

- Its none of your business right now. Get them first and then maybe we will talk further as we will be preparing for our journey out of this shithole. Lucy was about to turn her down but the idea of some extra caps wasn’t that bad and they were headed to the Galaxy Park next anyway. And if they were planning to get out anyway why not help them.

- How much you pay? She asked.

- Enough to convince you to take up on a task and leave right now. Dara looked at the man in a hood nearby, pointing at the laser rifle in his hands.

- Fine, we will meet later. She turned away and pulled the Gage after her, leaving their camp.  

-----

  Lucy decided to head back to Fizztop. Further preparations had to be done before giving a hit to the last park. From the description of it on a colorful pamphlet they indeed needed some pulse grenades to deal with robotics that might still be in there.

  -Boss, i know they don’t cause any issues and they are fucked up crazy but we will have to get rid of them at some point, one way or another. Gage pointed out as they were crossing the town.

-We will Gage, don’t worry. I still have to stop by Lizzie to check how she’s doing on those grenades. We will meet later at Fizztop. Lucy took a sharp turn towards Parlor, leaving troubled raider to himself. 

As the afternoon passed and it turned into late evening Gage decided to take a break from tinkering with his weaponry and leaving some notes on the terminal, that now changed its purpose along with the new Overboss. He heard a silent guitar notes coming from the radio, striking in the air to the hall. Gage walked towards the patio stretching his arms and neck on the way. 

-Hey Boss, what ya doin? Been pretty silent here since you came back from Parlor. He approached her sitting at the bar with a bottle of wine and two empty glasses.

-Was waiting for you actually. She poured a bit of wine into both glasses and stood up from the the bar stool. 

-Huh..me, why? Gage asked nervously and his eye opened more widely, noticing what she was wearing. It looked almost like a cocktail dress from a parlor ripped poster, black and glittery  -Something specific on your mind Boss?

  -Just a small occasional toast, for a job well done so far. We are going down to the last park very soon. She stretched her hand offering him a drink.

-Ye, i guess that can’t hurt. He took it gently and smelled the booze inside before clinking the glasses with her. - Also, where did you get all of…. that? He scanned her from head to toes leaning to the side against the bar.

-Oh..a recompense from Lizzie on turning my last one into a swiss cheese. She found it somewhere deep into the storage room and snatched it before Mags threw it away by mistake. - You like it…? She gave a fast spin and noticed him trying to resist the smile growing to the sides of his face.

-Well, your ass always looks great but…that is something..else. He brushed the back of his neck and pushed himself away from the bar preparing slowly to leave before she would catch him and convince to do more unprofessional business. 

-Gage listen, i know you hate these kind of chit chats but… 

She took his hand and pulled him close to her. - I just wanted to tell you that i feel good so far…where i am and what we do together, to get this place back for us. She bit her lips nervously and slowly looked up in his eye. 

-I thought it would be the end of my fucked life…that the gauntlet would take my sorry ass or you right after it. She joked trying not to scare him too much with her words. - But look, i was lost when everything blew up and went to shit and i finally feel like i found my place in this garbage and also...there is you, protecting and covering up for my dumb mistakes and i just...appreciate it, i guess. Her eyes rolled nervously around before looking at him again.   

-Uhm…shit…Boss i…i am glad you think so.. really..i do. And you are not that dumb..i mean just…impulsive.  His brain was storming to find literally anything better to say at this moment as she started to gaze at him. - Look, i know we are kinda busy, deep in work and shit and its been some time but…i am happy it was you who showed up here...and that i didn’t have to kill ya. He managed to joke back at her and calmed down a bit as the smile showed up at her face in a response.

He almost took a step back as she put her hands around his neck trying not to blush like some kind of soft fucker. But on the other side he felt a pinch of pride mixed with surprise, that she was saying all of these words to him, only. That she was standing there looking like from some damn magazine, for him. He almost felt like he didn’t deserve all of this trust and sweet talk at this moment but he wouldn’t dare to throw it away either. 

-Just stay, tonight. I won’t torture you further with my shitty talk.  She whispered as she leaned herself on his chest. He wrapped his arm firmly around her waist. That was indeed something else, more meaningful, not just joking around and some occasional corner teasing and kissing. 

-Hey..when i shouted in your face that i care about you i did fucking mean it.  I’m not good at these talks..and stuff but maybe that will do…. He placed his both hands at her waist almost tempted to drop them even lower on her ass and started slowly swinging with her to the sides in the tune of the radio.

 -Gage..but you hate….

-But you like it so…shut up. He interrupted her and endured another round of slow dancing. 

Lucy tried to turn her head to hide the wide grin but got caught in a surprise kiss from the raider. There was nothing else to be said. Just them, swinging slowly, being reassured in their future plan and each other. Only the swinging didn’t last so long as the kiss and temptation led them both pretty fast to a nearby couch for the rest of the evening.

[snowbellewells]

Self Promo Sunday: The Case of the Heart in Armor: Part Two

I’m re blogging this once more this morning. It was at an odd time earlier this week when I did it, and I thought I mind give it another go. There were a few who asked to be tagged in updates who I am not sure saw it the first time. 

This was originally written for the CS Role Reversal event in October, to accompany the amazing fanart created by @courtorderedcake.  I had SO MUCH FUN working with her and coming up with this story.  I certainly didn’t mean to keep folks waiting this long for the second part.  I still hope those who were reading and excited about it will enjoy!! :)

@courtorderedcake  I don’t know why I can’t get your picture to post on here like I did with Part One.  For everyone else though, don’t miss her gorgeous art!! You can see it in the link to Part One below...

~~~~

 Summary: Killian “Holmes” Jones is rarely surprised or shocked anymore, but that all changes when he meets one very stubborn - and very beautiful - pickpocket, and trouble brews in the distance, hidden by the London fog…

Part One

by: @snowbellewells

Part Two

Chief Inspector David Nolan watched with weary acceptance as his erstwhile younger sister paced back and forth in front of the large mahogany desk in the private office at the Yard which he had worked bloody hard to earn. It wasn’t as though farm boys from Surrey made their way up the elite ranks of London’s police force regularly, and he could admit himself more than a bit proud of the distinction. It wouldn’t be the first time he had seen Emma in such a state either - she was as stubborn as the day was long, and had quite the temper besides, if a person had poor enough judgement to rile her. Though he didn’t mind listening to Emma’s tirade, he would have to quiet her soon, both because her rant was rising in volume instead of tapering off, and because the man she was ranting against was indeed an acquaintance of his and had helped him out of some tight scrapes - more than Nolan would actually like to admit.

Standing finally, and rubbing a hand over tired eyes - his latest case had already kept him from sound sleep three nights in a row - David rounded the desk with measured and steady stride to take Emma’s arm gently, stopping her wild gesticulations in midair before she could manage to clock him on the chin. Even though at present he found himself wishing she could be a bit more demure and correct, David did care deeply for the slip of a young woman his single mother had taken into their home when he was fourteen and Emma only twelve. His mum had caught Em’s hand in her pocketbook outside the market where she had been lurking, stealing to survive. He still remembered those half-wild eyes, her dirt-smudged face, and how thin and ravenously hungry the girl who became his sister had been. She’d already been alone on the streets for some time by that point, had trusted no one (she still trusted very few), and yet, Ruth Nolan, despite she and David having little to spare themselves, simply couldn’t abide the situation without helping. They’d only been in town to shop for a new sturdy coat to last David the winter and visit the theatre - a rare treat indeed - but when they had returned to the country, Emma had gone with them. Gradually, Emma had come to believe that they wouldn’t turn her out, that she couldn’t make Ruth rescind her welcome, and David had come to be glad for a sibling and hearty companion. There were still signs of that feral waif scrapping to survive when her eyes flashed with fury as they were doing just then, but David wouldn’t have Emma be someone else - even if it would make his life occasionally easier.

Hoping to placate her, at least a bit, before telling her what he knew might send her flying off the handle once again, David guided his sibling into the seat facing his desk, a soothing hand lingering at her shoulder as he attempted to commiserate. “It does sound as if your meeting with Mr. Jones was most vexing. No wonder you were put out.”

Emma was nodding along, her shoulders still radiating tension and looking only slightly mollified as he went back toward his own seat and lowered his broad-shouldered, commanding frame into it once more. “The sheer audacity!” She was still saying, clearly gearing up to tell him the whole story again, when David stretched his hand out to still her next torrent of hissed words.

“The thing is,” he began, rather hesitantly; regardless of his usual air of strength and authority, he seemed to be nearly tiptoeing around his sister, knowing her tart tongue and ability to hold a grudge could make him truly miserable if he handled the situation badly and she thought him to be taking Killian Jones’ side over her own. “Jones was not in the strictest sense out of turn to claim that he knew me… nor to be surprised we were related. He has aided us here at the Yard several times now, when we thought a case was about to reach a true dead end. He’s a right clever chap, and much as I hate to admit it, he sees things the rest of us miss - myself included. It’s almost uncanny, and no doubt how he caught you in the act - slick and nimble-fingered as you are, Sis.”

Emma’s mouth opened with a comeback; he could see her gathering a fortifying breath, but at the last statement, clearly reminding her that he knew she sometimes returned to her less-than-legal roots and he looked the other way, she snapped it closed again, her teeth clacking against each other with the force. Instead, she arched a brow at him sardonically as if questioning what he had to tell her and already warning him that it wouldn’t change her mind all in one.

However, before he could get around to explaining that she would have to learn to tolerate Mr. Jones as best she could, because they would soon be seeing each other more often, or warn her once more of the dangers she invited by haunting the seedier neighborhoods where he knew she most liked to set up her cart of flowers and put her old, erstwhile skills into practice, they were interrupted by two sharp, business-like raps on his office door before it opened abruptly. His second-in-command, Graham Watson, entered with an apologetic and rather sheepish look on his face. 

“I’m sorry to disturb you, Sir… Miss Emma…” the boyishly sweet-faced lieutenant nodded to her in deference before turning his attention back to her adoptive brother, a light flush actually crawling up the back of his neck toward his honey-colored hair, unmanageably curly and only adding to his tousled, youthful appearance as his eyes flicked back away from Emma. He had taken her to the opera once, and though he had been a perfect gentleman, Emma had the sneaking suspicion they would make for a poor pair beyond mere acquaintances. A faint smirk quirked one corner of her full, rosy lips upwards at the thought, but despite his clearly still harboring a bit of attracted interest, she had the distinct impression that he couldn’t handle her were she to truly let loose and be herself in his presence.

“That’s alright, Graham,” David assured, smiling and beckoning the other man forward.

Graham entered, but then turned back to usher another through the door behind him. “You told me to let you know when Holmes arrived,” he added.

Emma turned sharply in her seat, skin prickling with awareness at the sight of the tall, dark-headed and astonishingly blue-eyed man from the day before easing into the office behind Watson. He waggled an eyebrow at her, maddeningly aware of her strong reaction and raising her ire once more without even having spoken. Giving a brief dip of the head like a bow to her, he turned to face her brother as well, tucking his right thumb into the belt loop of his well-fitted charcoal slacks, and somehow making even perfectly correct dress attire look rakishly sinful as his hips preceded him a step forward into the room. “Afternoon, Nolan,” he greeted mildly, looking for all the world as though he had not a care. “Heard you wished to speak with me. Found the thief who took my watch, have you?”

He glanced over his shoulder at Emma, looking all-too-pleased with himself if the grin stretching his mouth in satisfied confidence was any indication.

“Why you…” she leapt to her feet, ready to stalk forward and challenge his accusation - true it might be, but she would like to see him prove it. However, she found that the creative and colorful arsenal of pejorative names and curses usually ready on the tip of her tongue were all tangled up inside her mouth. Opening and closing it several times uselessly, she finally shook her head with a huff, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at him darkly, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her struggle for words.

Smirking with lazy ease, as if the entire situation amused him immensely, Jones rolled his tongue around in his mouth obscenely (it did not make Emma’s pulse tap noticeably in her throat at all) before speaking to her once more. “Aye, Love, it is me, as you say…. Always nice to make an impression.”  And then (the very cheek of him!) he winked at her before sliding his gaze back to her brother.

It certainly didn’t help her rising temper to sense David, and Graham too it seemed, silently chuckling as he watched their volatile exchange. She supposed she deserved that to some extent, being quicker and more stealthy than most by half, and not ashamed to make it known and use it to her advantage, even with those closest to her when it suited. It probably was more than a bit amusing to both of them to see her genuinely rattled by this...this…  Well, she didn’t even have a word for this Killian ‘Holmes�� Jones, but she wasn’t about to stand there and have them all snickering at her expense.  Sweeping around her chair in the opposite direction, careful to avoid coming anywhere near Jones, she threw over her shoulder as she started for the door. “Well, David, if we’re done for the moment, I’ll be going…”

She was well on her way to stalking dramatically from the room, congratulating herself through her flustered nerves that it would serve them right to have run her off when they needed her for whatever they were gathered to cluck about like a bunch of old hens. David and Graham both knew she was a valuable and well-placed set of eyes and ears to the ground in parts of the city where the police could go but would see and hear nothing at all. David had accepted her help gratefully on numerous occasions - even if he always tried to go without it at first. He argued about jeopardizing her safety and the questionable legality of involving someone not part of the force to gain intelligence.

None of that concerned Emma though; she liked proving her mettle - and her skill. Deep down, there was also, she supposed, a part of her that wanted to do something in return for the gift David’s mother, and David too, had given her, taking her into their home and off of the street. He was the one person left in the world she could call family, and she would do anything for him, despite that sentiment going largely unspoken. She knew the same was true of him for her.

Before she could get out the door however, David’s voice drew her back in, a weariness and a resigned need to it that practically compelled her to wait and hear him out. David was capable and astute; good at his job no matter how much she might playfully heckle or give him grief. If he were this intent on having her assistance, then it was something serious with which he was dealing. A tremor of awareness, foreboding shivering up her spine, ran across Emma’s skin as she paused and then turned back to the three men now gathered around David’s desk and the precarious mess of papers piled atop it that she had failed to notice until that very second.

Graham’s voice spoke next, sounding both troubled and anxious as he did so, “Are you sure we should…?” His hands wrung themselves nervously, as if he was having to consciously fight not to reach out and cover the crime scene photographs she could just make out peeking from the stacks strewn across the surface before her as she drew nearer.

And when she actually laid eyes on what her brother’s lieutenant had wanted to shield her from, Emma’s stomach did make a large and unpleasant lurch for her throat.  Pressing her hand against her abdomen to still its sudden roiling, despite all that she had seen in her rough and ramshackle upbringing and colorful present dealings, she had to hold back a shocked gasp of horror at the sight in front of her. It was a near thing indeed.  Even as she struggled not to jerk her glance away and stand up straight and unfazed,  not wanting it to be dismissed as “feminine vapors”, or something equally ridiculous if she showed too much distress. She knew her brother and his subordinate better than that anyway - and they seemed plenty subdued and disturbed by the pictures as well. But she would not show weakness in front of Killian Jones.

To her surprise, at just the moment she had that thought, and steeled herself against the tremors trying to overtake her limbs, she felt a light, surreptitious hand rest carefully at the small of her back. It took a mere moment to realize that the touch was Jones, and that he must mean it to be steadying, offered in comfort and solidarity. He didn’t make an attempt to look at her in mocking, nor did he draw the other two men’s attention to his actions. And though her eyes had narrowed to near-slits, ready to chastise him about keeping his hands to himself, and warn him that she had no need of his brand of comfort, Emma found herself doing nothing of the sort. Where she had felt herself going cold at the fearful sight chilling her blood from the displayed evidence, warmth seemed to radiate from where his large hand rested, fighting off some of the frigid ice that had infiltrated her veins with the repulsion she felt for the crime. Despite still wanting to show him up if she could, and despite not wanting to let a point of frailty show, she was glad to have the contact in that minute, while she battled to regain control.

The criminal David was chasing was clearly a monster… and they were going to need all the help they could get.

~~~~~~~~~~~~***

Deep, devious eyes, painted beguilingly, narrowed in intense concentration as they studied the carnage spread out over the worktable. Rather than finally seeing the last ingredient needed, there was instead merely one more bloody mess. A needless loss - not that the culprit was crying any tears over the unfortunate victim.

Not unexpectedly, it was now proven, as the villain had feared, that not just any organ would do. It must be a heart, fatal as that realization was. Moreover, no random heart would suffice either. Her last conquest had made that appalling fact abundantly clear.

No, if she wanted to truly put the alchemical possibilities she had studied to the test, and to discover if her abilities within the field were as great as she needed them to be, this final hurdle and greater risk was unavoidable. Bringing the dead back to life was seemingly impossible; none disputed that fact. And yet, she refused to accept those terms, ending her life’s happiness when it had barely begun.

Wiping deceptively pale and delicate hands on the cloth beside her, she did her best to remove the vivid red stains covering her hands and forearms where they were bared beneath her rolled up sleeves. Resurrection was bloody work indeed, but her course had long since been set. A specific heart it would have to be. Garnet lips painted as deep and dark as the blood splattered around her tilted up in an unnerving and sinister smile. Oh yes, she would get that heart she needed - no matter what it took to acquire.

Tagging: @courtorderedcake @cocohook38 @jennjenn615 @kmomof4 @hollyethecurious @darkcolinodonorgasm @winterbaby89 @teamhook @thisonesatellite @laschatzi @stahlop @ultraluckycatnd @drowned-dreamer @resident-of-storybrooke @revanmeetra87 

[nightqueendany]

Game of Thrones and Lawrence of Arabia

I’m just going to copy and paste relevant parts of the Wikipedia summary below and go through point by point:

The story then moves backward to the First World War, where Lawrence is a misfit British Army lieutenant, notable for his insolence and education. 

Hmm, who do we know from the story who is 1) a misfit, 2) joins a type of “army” and 3) is known for his insolence and education.

Oh yeah, JON FUCKING SNOW. 

Over the objections of General Murray, Mr. Dryden of the Arab Bureau sends him to assess the prospects of Prince Faisal in his revolt against the Turks. 

Who also is sent on a mission that his Lord Commander isn’t entirely chuffed about, at the request of another commander, in order to assess/take care of a situation regarding a foreign group?

Oh yeah, JON FUCKING SNOW.

On the journey, his Bedouin guide, Tafas, is killed by Sherif Ali for drinking from his well without permission. Lawrence later meets Colonel Brighton, who orders him to keep quiet, make his assessment, and leave. Lawrence ignores Brighton's orders when he meets Faisal. His outspokenness piques the prince's interest.

Brighton advises Faisal to retreat after a major defeat, but Lawrence proposes a daring surprise attack on Aqaba; 

Now, this bit I could see being Dany vs Jorah, when he’s trying to convince her that she doesn’t need Yunkai and she wants to take it to save the slaves there, but the parallel is really weak. 

The parallel of Lawrence being a young but capable military commander could belong to both Jon or Dany.

its capture would provide a port from which the British could offload much-needed supplies. The town is strongly fortified against a naval assault but only lightly defended on the landward side. He convinces Faisal to provide fifty men, led by a skeptical Sherif Ali. Teenage orphans Daud and Farraj attach themselves to Lawrence as servants. 

Again, this parallel could belong to either Jon or Dany. Missandei for Dany, Ollie for Jon.

They cross the Nefud Desert, considered impassable even by the Bedouins, traveling day and night on the last stage to reach water. One of Ali's men, Gasim, succumbs to fatigue and falls off his camel unnoticed during the night. When Lawrence discovers him missing, he turns back and rescues Gasim—and Sherif Ali is won over. He gives Lawrence Arab robes to wear.

The crossing of the desert could parallel Dany’s journey through the Red Waste - but the purposes for crossing these deserts are two totally different motivations. Lawrence and co are heading for battle. Dany and co are just trying to survive.

Dany is never given native garb as a reward. She adopts the garb of her people to show them respect. However, Jon is given a white fur by Mance when Jon successfully convinces Mance he wants to change sides from Night’s Watch to Wildling. 

Lawrence persuades Auda abu Tayi, the leader of the powerful local Howeitat tribe, to turn against the Turks. 

This could parallel Dany convincing Daario and co to fight for her rather than Yunkai...I guess? Or perhaps it’s Dany convincing the slaves of Yunaki to turn against their masters. Or perhaps it’s Jon convincing the Wildlings and Northmen to fight together against Ramsay? Who fuckin’ knows?

Lawrence's scheme is almost derailed when one of Ali's men kills one of Auda's because of a blood feud. Howeitat retaliation would shatter the fragile alliance, so Lawrence declares that he will execute the murderer himself. He is then stunned to discover that the culprit is Gasim, the very man to save whom he risked his own life in the desert, but he shoots him anyway.

This could be Dany in S5 executing Mossador, but remember, that was a show-only add-in. 

The next morning, the Arabs overrun the Turkish garrison. Lawrence heads to Cairo to inform Dryden and the new commander, General Allenby, of his victory. While crossing the Sinai Desert, Daud dies when he stumbles into quicksand. Lawrence is promoted to major and given arms and money for the Arabs. He is deeply disturbed, however, confessing that he enjoyed executing Gasim, but Allenby brushes aside his qualms. He asks Allenby whether there is any basis for the Arabs' suspicions that the British have designs on Arabia. When pressed, the general states that they do not.

This is Jon Snow to a T. Jon is promoted to Lord Commander, he gives rations to the wildlings who agree to help man the Wall, and he’s in a delicate negotiation with Stannis in regards to the wildlings fates in relation to the Seven Kingdoms.  

Lawrence launches a guerrilla war, blowing up trains and harassing the Turks at every turn. American war correspondentJackson Bentley publicizes Lawrence's exploits, making him famous. On one raid, Farraj is badly injured. Unwilling to leave him to be tortured by the enemy, Lawrence shoots him dead before fleeing.

This could be both Jon/Dany or neither. There are *some* parallels to both their wars taking back their homes - Jon with Battle of the Bastards, Dany with the Loot Train Battle. But it’s a weak parallel for them both at best. 

When Lawrence scouts the enemy-held city of Deraa with Ali, he is taken, along with several Arab residents, to the Turkish Bey. Lawrence is stripped, ogled, and prodded. Then, for striking out at the Bey, he is severely flogged before being thrown into the street. The experience leaves Lawrence shaken. He returns to British headquarters in Cairo but does not fit in.

Daenerys is captured and beaten by the Dothraki in Season 6. Jon is captured and beaten by the wildlings in Season 2.

However, the “returning but not fitting in” is a parallel that belongs to Jon solely. When he returns to the Wall after being undercover with the wildlings, he is very much changed by his time with them. He “talks like a wildling” because he “ate with the wildlings, climbed the Wall with the wildlings, and lay with a wildling girl.” He gained an understanding of them and their culture and has adopted their ways of thinking as his own which is why in S7 Tormund tells him, “You spent too much time with the Free Folk, now you don’t like kneeling.” Dany, throughout her story, is both adoptive of all the cultures she encounters and also loyal to none of them, only participating in cultural practices to show respect, not because she has become fully immersed in the culture.

A short time later in Jerusalem, General Allenby urges him to support the "big push" on Damascus. Lawrence hesitates to return but finally relents.

Lawrence recruits an army that is motivated more by money than by the Arab cause. 

This actually most closely parallels CERSEI in Seasons 7/8 and her purchasing of a contract with the Golden Company. So who the fuck cares? LOL

They sight a column of retreating Turkish soldiers who have just massacred the residents of Tafas. One of Lawrence's men is from Tafas; he demands, "No prisoners!" When Lawrence hesitates, the man charges the Turks alone and is killed. Lawrence takes up the dead man's battle cry; the result is a slaughter in which Lawrence himself participates. Afterwards, he regrets his actions.

The “guerrilla war” on the Turks and this scene in particular are the only ones I can think of as to why Dany’s arc is compared with this film. However, in this last battle scene in Lawrence of Arabia where Lawrence “goes too far”, it’s not an entirely unprovoked act of senseless violence. Yes, in the film, it’s meant to be horrific. 

However, 1) they are killing Turkish soldiers, not civilians, and 2) the Turkish soldiers had just slaughtered an entire city. So it’s not as if they’re innocent men. 

(Please keep in mind, I am not a history buff. I have no idea about any of this stuff in actual historical context or if the film is historically accurate. I’m not saying the Turkish soldiers deserved this but again, not saying they’re innocent in the way the film frames them either). 

This more reminds me of Dany’s attack on the Lannister/Tarly troops after their sack of Highgarden than the massacre of King’s Landing. 

OR, it could be Jon Snow “getting the crazy eyes and losing a bit of his goodness” - Miguel Sapochnik - in Battle of the Bastards. 

But this is definitely not Dany’s King’s Landing moment. The Bells isn’t Dany going “just a little too far.” That’s Dany going outright batshit and killing full on innocent people with no hint of regret - which Lawrence does regret his actions. So this fucking parallel is idiotic. If Emilia were meant to see Dany as “Lawrence of Arabia”, then that arc would be finished long before Season 8 because Season 8 Dany has no regrets of the violence she’s participated in. Lawrence struggles with that question constantly - as does Jon Snow. 

Lawrence's men take Damascus ahead of Allenby's forces. The Arabs set up a council to administer the city, but the desert tribesmen prove ill-suited for such a task. Despite Lawrence's efforts, they bicker constantly. Unable to maintain the public utilities, the Arabs soon abandon most of the city to the British.

Lawrence is promoted to colonel and immediately ordered back to Britain, as his usefulness to both Faisal and the British is at an end. As he leaves the city, his automobile is passed by a motorcyclist who leaves a trail of dust in his wake.

The bickering among Arabs could be the bickering among the Northmen when Jon is King, or it could be Dany dealing with the former slaves and masters in Slaver’s Bay, but it’s unclear. 

HOWEVER, being useful to neither cause and getting tossed out like trash when his usefulness at bringing people together and fighting their fights is at an end, is full on Jon Snow, and like Lawrence, he’s sent back to his place of origin: the Wall. 

If Dany’s story were to be parallel to Lawrence, she wouldn’t have slaughtered King’s Landing and would have gone back to Essos. 

Add to all this, Lawrence is a bastard son of an English Lord, struggles with his identity, struggles with his place between serving the British Army and his love for the Arab people, and lastly his squeamishness with unnecessary violence, and you’ve got Jon Fucking Snow.

I really have no idea when or why D&D told Emilia that Dany’s story was like Lawrence of Arabia. Honestly, after now having watched this film, I think they likely told her this back in the early days of the show, so of course Emilia wouldn’t connect this to Dany’s “dark turn” because Lawrence doesn’t fucking have this gigantic 180 like Dany does. That’s not what happens to his character so why would Emilia have expected that? Or expected Dany to die the way she did?? Dany’s “go too far” moment, in the series, would have been crucifying the masters. That’s it. The masters were evil and did something horrible and she was “punishing” them for it. And it was a great morally gray moment, which she later questions about herself. Just like Lawrence regrets his actions in the slaughter of the Turkish soldiers in the final battle in that film. 

But to compare Dany’s “The Bells” moment to the final battle of Lawrence of Arabia does not fit at all. 

It makes no fucking sense. Just like the rest of this pathetic dumpster fire of a season. 

[philosophicalparadox]

The Tragedy of Shemihaza

(Yes, the image quality is horrible, I’m sorry, Also, Shemihaza is masculine in what stories I could find. So I will be referring to them as a he for this bit.) 

Gather round ye, for I shall tell you the sad tale of the angel Shemihaza. It is a tale of love, of loss, and of hope’s wicked ways.  It is also the tale of the Grigori, for Shemihaza is the one who led them, and who ultimately led them thusly into torment.

Shemihaza is originally an angel featuring in Judaic lore, specifically in the Book of Enoch. (Old Testament). And his story, which I came upon last month, has been lingering with me. Hopefully, you will see why. (Hint: It has to do with the panel above). The story pans out thusly: 

Once, in an era not long before the Great Flood, God sent some two hundred angels down to earth to be humanities “keepers”. They were tasked with guarding and guiding the lost and hopeless man, for he was prone to all kinds of wickedness and was preyed on by it thusly. These two hundred angels became the Grigori, the “Guardians” of mankind. 

But the Grigori were not happy with their position, for though they were tasked with guarding and guiding mankind, they could not do so directly, and no direct contact between the beautiful Grigori angels and the equally beautiful creatures of earth was permitted. The angels were there in the case of calamity; they were not to interfere with man’s wickedness directly, as it were, rather through their presence encourage man to know what was right. (Same principle as a child behaving when parents are watching as opposed to being left to their own devices). However, they were not allowed to “relate” to mankind, meaning that they could not necessarily touch them, nor speak to them through their angelic forms, instead sending signs and such of their holy presence. 

But the Grigori were not satisfied with this. They wanted to touch man and woman alike, they wanted to relate to them, to speak with them as they were and for who they were, not for why they were sent. And so, “enchanted” by the beauty of the human realm, and of mankind themselves, the Grigori slowly began to “forget” and abandon their mission. They were tempted most by human women, specifically. And none more so than Shemihaza. 

Shemihaza, one of the leading angels, met and befriended a human woman whom he met while she was bathing in a river, ultimately falling in love with her.* He wanted, desperately, to be with her, but he could not, for their union was strictly forbidden by the nature of Heaven itself, and ultimately, by God. 

Fearful that he would be denounced (cast down, as Lucifer was), Shemihaza convinced the other angels of the Grigori to take up human wives, summoning them to a mountain (Mount Hermon, specifically) to issue the testament, as well as to get them all to vow (to their human wives). Shemihaza also vowed himself, to take the blame and shoulder the weight of any punishments should their heresy be discovered.**

Because of the amorous love that the Grigori felt for their wives and spouses, they began to spill unto them (and the men, too) celestial secrets, things such as medicine, astronomy, magic and witchcraft,  weaponry, armour making, the art of mining for precious metals, and all manner of other knowledge forbidden to man at the time. 

In time, the women that the Grigori bedded gave birth to a generation known as Nephilim, who were several times larger or stronger than their fellow men, and were known for their exceptional intelligence. Nephilim, for a time, lived in peace with their human parents and peers, for they lived by the same means as man, working and eating their food. However, they ate more food than crops at the time could produce, and as a consequence there was famine. When there was no more food to sustain their rapid growth and ravenous appetites, the Nephilim turned upon the humans in their villages, and ate them instead. Humanity tried, desperately, to defend themselves from their creation, but failed. They pleaded with God for help, for some end to the suffering of their kind. 

The Archangels (Seraphim, Cherubim, and Thrones), who were watching from the sanctity of Heaven, heard their pleas, and consorted with God to resolve the matter. 

Michael and Gabriel, the warrior angels, came down from on high to meet the war head-on, and to smite the Nephilim plague. Other angels came down too, with Rafael being the angel to seal away Asael (who would become, in christianity, Azazel) underneath the Dudael desert. Sariel, too, came down from on high to warn Noe (Judaic Noah) of the Great Flood that would be sent from God, to wipe clean the forbidden knowledge man had acquired, along with all the corruption that came with it (in the form of the Nephilim, presumably). 

Enoch, (the closest thing Judaism gets to Jesus), felt bad for the Grigori, knowing that a terrible punishment awaited them for their heresy. Taking pity upon the misguided angels, he informed them of the fate which awaited them, berating them for being led astray and warning them that they would not ever be allowed back into heaven after what they had done, but would instead be denounced (cast into Gehenna). Frightened, the Grigori pleaded with God to spare and forgive them, but they had sealed their own fates in His eyes. 

Enoch, after conversing with the angels, seen a vision of a place in which neither earth nor sky existed, but rather five endlessly burning pillars and a vast, endless void, the “Prison of the Stars”. 

Here the Grigori were cast for their crimes, bound by heavy chains by their Archangel brethren, and condemned to spend eternity wallowing in shame for their actions. Since some of the Nephilim of the war survived, and since mankind was left corrupt and “ruined” by them, God sent the Flood to finish them all off.

The Grigori could do nothing to save their wives, sons or daughters. They live with the anguish of that knowledge, and the shame of their disgraces, locked deep within the prison for the rest of time, crying for everything they loved and lost. 

NOTE: Because I am sure there are christian folk confused right now:

* Angels in Judaism have the same encampments as humanity; they have both free will, and a human-seeming range of emotions. 

** Also, I do not know the precise nature of Yaweh, the Judaic God, but from what I can tell, He is not held to the same “all perfect all the time” heraldry of the Christian God. It is certainly so, in this case, that angels are able to deceive Him.  

 Now, WHAT, you may ask, does this story have to do with Blue Exorcist? 

Why, everything of course. 

This is pure fan-conjecture, but I have a distinct sense that the Book of Enoch was an inspiration, perhaps, for the power structures in AnE. 

Looking at it Biblically, it breaks down as such:

On one hand, you have the Grigori, a benevolent order of angels who fell in love with humanity and wanted to share their knowledge with them. 

On the other, you have God and the Archangels, to whom that very thing is heresy and should not be tolerated. 

And in the middle, you have the Nephilim, who were driven by starvation (that they created) to consume the flesh of mankind. 

And making that same comparison to Blue Exorcist: 

On one side, you have the Grigori, a faction of the Vatican that have been around forever, who taught mankind how to fight demons (inside and out)

On the other, you have the Illuminati, lead by Lucifer (who, by the by, is a Seraph in his original, Biblical mythos)  whom serves the interests of Satan (who is also God) who want demonkind to rule the best of both worlds and couldn’t care less about the fate of humanity. 

And in the middle, you have the Nephilim, who are regarded badly by both sides for belonging to neither. 

Moreso, Shemihaza as she appears in B.E. talks about having forsaken her compassion  out of necessity. But what was that necessity? Was it when she was tasked with killing her own children, as I imagine she may have been, when mankind deemed them a threat? Or was it when her own brothers and sisters turned against her, against them? She seems to have a guarded expression, as though concealing her true feelings about the matter. 

And I deeply, and heartbreakingly suspect that she sincerely regrets what she has done, even if it was all done in the name of the ‘greater good’. After all, someone in her position surely has come upon thoughts about where that fine line lies, between what must be done, and what should be. 

Thoughts?

(Also, I totally don’t own the image panel used, Kazue Katou does, I just added colour to it because it was boring). 

[theonyxpath]

Yes, we’re down to the last week of the Contagion Chronicle Kickstarter – and so I know you’ll all be sad to know that it’s my last week of coming up with awful pun-ny titles for this blog based on the KS.

(Never fear, in several weeks we’ll be starting the Pirates of Pugmire Kickstarter campaign, and you KNOW I’ll have pirate titles for the run on that!)

(Of course, I may just title them “Yarrr!1”, “Yarrr!2”, and so on.)

But back to The Contagion Chronicle!

We’re looking to finish strong on Thursday, so this is really the home stretch. Hopefully, at this point, backers are able to tell whether the project is intriguing them based on the text that’s almost done being released.

And hopefully, folks who are wondering about backing have seen enough from backers posting here and on social media, and the various Actual Play vids that Matthew and James have linked to, to give the project a shot.

Remember, you can back for a mere pittance and get the chance the review the text yourself without being locked in to pledging at the end. Well, at least until it really is the end on Thursday – at that point Kickstarter charges everybody!

Also, by backing at a bit more than a mere pittance, you’ll also receive links to the PDFs of the two Stretch Goal projects that have been being built up throughout the course of the Kickstarter when they are finished. More locations and some alternative rules in the one, and guides to crossovers on a more nuts and bolts level in the other.

Adventures For Curious Cats illustration by Pat Loboyko

Mighty Matt McElroy wanted me to thank all of you that made our 20th Anniversary WoD books PDF sale a huge success! We’re thrilled that so many of you took it as a chance to catch up on some of the WoD20 books you hadn’t yet checked out! Thanks!

He also mentioned reminding all you awesome people that we have two sales on physical books going on at Indie Press Revolution: for physical hardback copies of the Pathfinder rules edition of the Scarred Lands Players Guide, and for the Deluxe 20th Anniversary physical books that IPR still have in stock.

Or, if you prefer, Studio2 also has the Scarred Lands Players Guide – Pathfinder edition – physical books on a deep discount sale right now. You can check out the links below in the BLURBS!

We’ll be having some very cool info about the Scarred Lands Creature Collection for 5e coming up in the next few weeks, so keep an eye out for that. I’ll say this now, the monster art is looking gorgeous!

Book of Oblivion illustration by Drew Tucker

Following up on last week, we immediately started using the new Errata Form for the Geist 2e and Trinity Continuum KS backers as Backer PDFs went out to them.

So far, the form seems to be working fantastically, so thanks to all of you who have used it for sending us your feedback on these two projects!

Along with that, it’s our plan to wrap up the situation with the Scion 2e errata this week. Neall is working on a message for our Scion community to go with the fixes and a downloadable errata sheet, and our shipper is supposed to start sending out all the KS packages this week.

Our apologies to everyone concerned, frustrated, maddened, or just confused by this whole thing. We truly appreciate everyone’s patience in letting us take the time to delve into what happened, and the extent of the number of errata fixes that got “unfixed”.

It’s like that warning on airlines to don your oxygen mask before assisting others. We had to end our own confusion before we could explain what happened and how we’re dealing with it. And that’ll come later this week.

Dystopia Rising: Evolution illustration by Marco Gonzales

One other thing I wanted to note, which came out of the Scion errata thing, but has popped up before, is that when I’m writing this blog, I generally have to bear in mind that for any given situation I’m trying to address, there are many segments of our community I’m addressing.

What I mean is that sometimes I will make a point during discussing one thing that is also addressing other concerns that other members of our community have. These are folks that maybe don’t feel comfortable voicing their concerns in the dangerous seas of social media, but who have sent me private messages. I need to be responsive to them – but I don’t want to “out” them.

(And there are also those private messages that rip me a new one, that I also don’t share because I’m not here to get into flame-wars, but which have items in them that aren’t true and I don’t want to leave unaddressed).

In both those kinds of cases, if you see a series of messages and I respond and seem to veer off to talk about something else that’s not directly prompted by the thread – this is what is probably on my mind with my answer.

After all, we have a community containing folks of all ages, all kinds of interests, all walks of life, and who may love one, some, or all of our game worlds, and I need to always bear that in mind and try and give everybody the connections they need to explore our:

Many Worlds, One Path!

BLURBS!

KICKSTARTER:

Now in it’s LAST FEW DAYS, the Contagion continues to spread, passing 1275 backers and infecting all in its path with more and more Stretch Goals! https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/200664283/contagion-chronicle-a-chronicles-of-darkness-cross

The Contagion Chronicle actual play continues on the Onyx Path YouTube channel! https://youtu.be/WR92yIuafU4

He also asks for your Contagion Chronicle-related questions here: https://youtu.be/axvrFeQOvEg

Matthew’s interview on Flames Rising about Contagion Chronicle: http://www.flamesrising.com/matthew-dawkins-is-infected-with-the-contagion-chronicle/

Our next Kickstarter starting in several weeks will be for Pirates of Pugmire!

ONYX PATH MEDIA

Illustration by Charles Bates

On this Friday’s Onyx Pathcast, our team takes a deep dive into the epic “Greco-Apocalyptic” fantasy of The Scarred Lands game line! https://onyxpathcast.podbean.com/

And Here’s More Media About Our Worlds:

It’s a new episode of the Onyx Path News from host, Matthew Dawkins: https://youtu.be/Cjqey_N3_jQ

Matthew also lets loose several previews regarding Mummy: The Curse Second Edition here: https://youtu.be/X9lbz4TWY9s

If YOU have a podcast, YouTube or Twitch channel, or talk about games on a blog or other website, and want to perform actual plays or make reviews of our games, please reach out to the Gentleman Gamer on the Onyx Path forum. From there we’ll share emails and get you started, so when you do start producing content we’ll be able to promote it on our blog and YouTube channel!

The Contagion Chronicle actual play continues on the Onyx Path YouTube channel! https://youtu.be/WR92yIuafU4

Red Moon Roleplaying have commenced their actual play of Scarred Lands, in a campaign Matthew Dawkins is running named The Great Vilhaim Heist! https://youtu.be/QUFVS4g6gDg

Caffeinated Conquests also continue with their foray into the Scarred Lands, with the Gauntlet of Spiragos: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8lVL40fkPX8

And as if that wasn’t enough, Devil’s Luck Gaming are still hard at it on the dangerous seas of Scarred Lands on their Twitch channel! https://www.twitch.tv/DEVILSLUCKGAMING

The Story Told Podcast have not one but two shows for you to check out, as they continue their chronicle of Dragon-Blooded for Exalted 3rd Edition, and have even reviewed it today! https://thestorytold.libsyn.com/

Here’s the Gamer’s Table again with their They Came from Beneath the Sea! actual play: http://gamerstable.com/cheesy-sci-fi-horror/

Cheesy Sci-Fi/Horror

And Occultists Anonymous, the Mage: The Awakening chronicle, also continues here: https://youtu.be/i4NNs_G0NNw

If Vampire is your thing, here’s an actual play of the Blood War for Vampire: The Requiem on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLhai2P1uktAzDEch4d1r2JZir0VqUrBQJ

And the Dramatic Failure podcast crew continue with their Geist: The Sin-Eaters chronicle too! https://dramaticfailure.podbean.com/

Please check any of these out and let us know if you find or produce any actual plays of our games!

ELECTRONIC GAMING:

As we find ways to enable our community to more easily play our games, the Onyx Dice Rolling App is now live! Our dev team has been doing updates since we launched based on the excellent use-case comments by our community, and this thing is both rolling and rocking!

Here’s an update from the App devs:

Onyx Dice!  We’ve recently released the Changeling: The Lost, Trinity Continuum: Aeon dice, and now the Geist dice.  Next up on our radar is: Demon: The Fallen,  Mummy: The Resurrection,  Kindred of the East, Vampire Dark Ages, and Mummy: The Curse.

We have a serious issue on the Pixel and Motorola phones that prevent the user from using the app correctly.  A fix is coming shortly.  A temporary workaround is to minimize the app without shutting it down, and then restore it.

ON AMAZON AND BARNES & NOBLE:

You can now read our fiction from the comfort and convenience of your Kindle (from Amazon) and Nook (from Barnes & Noble).

If you enjoy these or any other of our books, please help us by writing reviews on the site of the sales venue you bought it from. Reviews really, really help us with getting folks interested in our amazing fiction!

Our selection includes these fiction books:

OUR SALES PARTNERS:

We’re working with Studio2 to get Pugmire out into stores, as well as to individuals through their online store. You can pick up the traditionally printed main book, the Screen, and the official Pugmire dice through our friends there! https://studio2publishing.com/search?q=pugmire

We’ve added Prince’s Gambit to our Studio2 catalog: https://studio2publishing.com/products/prince-s-gambit-card-game

Now, we’ve added Changeling: The Lost 2nd Edition products to Studio2‘s store! See them here: https://studio2publishing.com/collections/all-products/changeling-the-lost

Scarred Lands (Pathfinder) books are also on sale at Studio 2: https://studio2publishing.com/collections/scarred-lands

Looking for our Deluxe or Prestige Edition books? Try this link! http://www.indiepressrevolution.com/xcart/Onyx-Path-Publishing/

And you can now order Pugmire, Monarchies of Mau, Cavaliers of Mars, and Changeling: The Lost 2e! http://www.indiepressrevolution.com/xcart/manufacturers.php?manufacturerid=296

The Scarred Lands (Pathfinder) and WoD 20th Anniversary Deluxe sales on IPR are still going until the end of the month!: https://www.indiepressrevolution.com/xcart/Deals-and-Specials/

DRIVETHRURPG.COM:

On Sale This Week!

This Wednesday, we’ll be offering our monthly Exalted 3rd PDF releases on DriveThruRPG!

CONVENTIONS

UK Games Expo: May 31st – June 2nd From the US comes Eddy Webb, Matt McElroy, and Rich Thomas to join with Matthew Dawkins, Steffie de Vann, John Burke, Chris Allen, and Klara Herbol! Gen Con: August 1st – August 4th Save Against Fear: Oct 12-14 GameHoleCon: October 31st – November 3rd We’ll also be back at PAX Unplugged later this year.

And now, the new project status updates!

DEVELOPMENT STATUS FROM FAST EDDY WEBB (projects in bold have changed status since last week):

First Draft (The first phase of a project that is about the work being done by writers, not dev prep)

M20 Victorian Mage (Mage: the Ascension 20th Anniversary Edition)

City of the Towered Tombs (Cavaliers of Mars)

Geist2e Fiction Anthology (Geist: The Sin-Eaters 2nd Edition)

Exalted Essay Collection (Exalted)

Kith and Kin (Changeling: The Lost 2e)

Scion: Demigod (Scion 2nd Edition)

Trinity Continuum Jumpstart (Trinity Continuum Core)

TC: Aeon Jumpstart (Trinity Continuum: Aeon)

Tales of Aquatic Terror (They Came From Beneath the Sea!)

Masks of the Mythos (Scion 2nd Edition)

Scion: Dragon (Scion 2nd Edition)

Wraith20 Fiction Anthology (Wraith: The Oblivion 20th Anniversary Edition)

DR:E Jumpstart (Dystopia Rising: Evolution)

One Foot in the Grave Jumpstart (Geist: The Sin-Eaters 2e)

Dragon-Blooded Novella #2 (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Redlines

Mummy: The Curse 2nd Edition core rulebook (Mummy: The Curse 2nd Edition)

Legendlore core book (Legendlore)

TC: Aeon Ready Made Characters (Trinity Continuum: Aeon)

Heroic Land Dwellers (They Came From Beneath the Sea!)

Monsters of the Deep (They Came From Beneath the Sea!)

Blood Sea: Crimson Abyss for 5e (Scarred Lands)

DR:E Threat Guide (Dystopia Rising: Evolution)

Second Draft

Tales of Good Dogs – Pugmire Fiction Anthology (Pugmire)

Let The Streets Run Red (Vampire: The Masquerade 5th Edition)

Dragon-Blooded Novella #1 (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Chicago Folio/Dossier (Vampire: The Masquerade 5th Edition)

Cults of the Blood Gods (Vampire: The Masquerade 5th Edition)

Across the Eight Directions (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Development

Hunter: the Vigil 2e core (Hunter: the Vigil 2nd Edition)

Lunars: Fangs at the Gate (Exalted 3rd Edition)

WoD Ghost Hunters (World of Darkness)

Oak, Ash, and Thorn: Changeling: The Lost 2nd Companion (Changeling: The Lost 2nd)

Night Horrors: Nameless and Accursed (Mage: the Awakening Second Edition)

Memento Mori: the GtSE 2e Companion (Geist: The Sin-Eaters 2nd Edition)

M20 The Technocracy Reloaded (Mage: the Ascension 20th Anniversary Edition)

Creatures of the World Bestiary (Scion 2nd Edition)

Heirs to the Shogunate (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Scion Companion: Mysteries of the World (Scion 2nd Edition)

Deviant: The Renegades (Deviant: The Renegades)

Manuscript Approval:

Trinity Continuum: Aberrant core (Trinity Continuum: Aberrant)

Scion Ready Made Characters (Scion 2nd Edition)

Pirates of Pugmire (Realms of Pugmire)

Distant Worlds (Trinity Continuum: Aeon)

Editing:

Spilled Blood (Vampire: The Requiem 2nd Edition)

CofD Dark Eras 2 (Chronicles of Darkness)

Post-Editing Development:

C20 Novel: Cup of Dreams (Changeling: the Dreaming 20th Anniversary Edition)

M20 Book of the Fallen (Mage: the Ascension 20th Anniversary Edition)

V5 Chicago By Night (Vampire: The Masquerade)

V5 Chicago By Night Screen (Vampire: The Masquerade)

CofD Contagion Chronicle (Chronicles of Darkness)

Witch-Queen of the Shadowed Citadel (Cavaliers of Mars)

Indexing:

Trinity Core

Trinity Aeon

ART DIRECTION FROM MIRTHFUL MIKE:

In Art Direction

Ex3 Monthly Stuff  

Chicago By Night – Art coming in slowly but surely.

They Came From Beneath the Sea!

EX3 Lunars

Hunter: The Vigil 2

Contagion Chronicle – KS.

VtR Spilled Blood – Hiring artists.

M20 Book of the Fallen – Contracted.

Dark Eras 2 – Getting artnotes in from devs.

CoM – Witch Queen of the Shadowed Citadel – Contracted.

Pirates of Pugmire – KS art contracted, sketches and finals coming in.

Marketing Stuff

In Layout

Dystopia Rising: Evolution – With Josh.

Shunned By the Moon

Scion Jumpstart

Aeon Aexpansion

Proofing

C20 Player’s Guide – At WW for approval.

The Realm

Book of Oblivion – Inputting last corrections.

Dragon-Blooded Screen – At WW for approval.

Signs of Sorcery – First Proof.

Trinity Core and Aeon Screens

At Press

Scion Hero – At Studio2, preparing to ship to backers.

Scion Origin – At Studio2, preparing to ship to backers.

Scion Dice – At Studio2, preparing to ship to backers.

Scion Screen – At Studio2, preparing to ship to backers.

Fetch Quest – Shipped to backers, prepping PoD version.

In Media Res – PDF out to backers, gathering errata with new sheet.

Geist 2e – PDF out to backers, gathering errata with new sheet.

Scarred Lands Spell Cards – PoD proofs ordered.

Adventures for Curious Cats – Going out to backers.

Tales of Excellent Cats – Going out to backers.

TODAY’S REASON TO CELEBRATE: 

Today is Earth Day, and we live here, so let’s celebrate doing what we can to keep Gaia alive!

[roidespd-blog]

Chapter Three : THE DESOLATION OF THE GRINDR USER

« Grindr is a sociopath nest », Anonymous 

Grindr was launched on March 25, 2009. About a month or so earlier, I lost my virginity to the sweetest guy you could imagine. I met him on what we could consider one of Grindr’s ancestors, Gaypax— I still have that account, out of nostalgia. The design is so ugly I wonder now how I did spend so much time on it (we weren’t picky back then…) So Grindr was born at the exact time my sexual and romantic life was unfolding. It means that, except for the few years I’ve spent frenetically masturbating to La Redoute’s underwear catalogues and downloading dirty pictures of Brad Pitt naked with a very slow wifi, I’ve always been accustomed to gay apps.

Recently, the new and improved french magazine Tétu published an article called « Faut-il brûler Grindr?». Though not as detailed as I was hoping it would be, it did not changed my general opinion about the dating app paradigm. 

FLASHBACK France, 1971. A young gay man living in a beautiful city called Paris. Mike Brant just released his first major hit, Rock’N’Roll is slowly dying and Les Bidasses en Folie is this year’s biggest success at the box office. Unfortunately for him, the Gay Rights Movement is just at its infancy, homosexuality is still considered a mental illness and sodomy is punishable by law. So he shut his mouth and do his dirty business privately. he spends time around Place de Clichy and finds very discreet bars that can welcome him without too much judgement. He takes long walks toward the Tuileries bushes and sucks a stranger’s dong without any verbal exchange. He ends up marrying that fine young Marie, daughter of a friend of his dad, makes a couple of kids and from time to time, goes back to those places, shameful of himself.

That was the life of a gay man in France. If he didn’t get killed along the way. CUT TO 2009. Grindr is the first official gay dating app launched around the world. In France, the ban on sodomy disappeared in 1981 and since 1992, you are no longer considered a crazy person for being attracted to a person of the same sex (well, not from an official medical point, anyway). The app came to fruition through a simple question asked by its creator, Joel Simkhai : « WHO ELSE IS GAY AROUND HERE? ».

By 2012, 4 million people were using the App. 27 million as of 2017. Tinder followed in 2012 — you are welcome, straight people. Then SCRUFF, GAYROMEO, HORNET, BLUED, … What is wrong, then ? You damn well know something is wrong.

SMARTPHONE, 21st CENTURY’S NEW BACKROOM

If you go to a bar, you have to talk to the bartender, exchange a least a fews words with strangers, even dance as your look around and are being seen by others in the flesh. If you go to a gaybar, the same thing happens. If you go to a gaybar then the gaybar’s backroomn, rules change.

As the dating apps was closing in on worldwide domination, it became clear that the natural human kindness and respect would ultimately have no effect on the way people would communicate with one another on Grindr. I’ve been working in a bookstore for the past four years, you see. I expect a “hello”, “goodbye” and a smile during any interactions with clients — from them and myself. So there’s nothing more annoying that someone coming up to you, barking what they want to and leaving without any civility whatsoever. The Grindr equivalent would be Step 1 : A DICK PICK (or ass pick. I once had a fisting commemorative photo sent to me) straight up. Step 2 : A terribly convenient “cc sava tu ch?” or a “cho?” Step 3A : If you are polite enough to answer something, a conclusive “tu reçoi” or “tu bouge” Step 3B : you did not answer a singe word and the guy either sends you a “????” or insults the shit out of you. I sometimes do not answer impolite clients at work. Guess what ? Bitches say hello if you stare down at them long enough. On the internet, never gonna happen.

I remember the first couple of times I went on Grindr. I tried to answer everyone, even a “no, thank you”. There was always some “Hello”s, “How are you?”s, a few “My name is”s. But as the years went by, gay men (as I mostly talk to gay or bisexual cis men on these apps, I can only give my opinion on that category of people) adopted a series of unofficial rules to talk to each other.

1. If we are on this app, we are ready to fuck. 2. We do not have time for small talk. 3. We do not need your name, but dick size and multiple nudes are welcome. A picture is worth a thousand blablablahs. 4. We need to be very precise about what we want, so as not to waste our precious time. 5. Seriously, give us a full diagnosis of your body shape through pics, boy. 6. Chems ? 9. There are no rule 7 & 8, because 6 & 9. Now, turn around.

There are also lots of personal rules users seem keen on sharing them publicly as to implement unofficial rule number 4.

NO FEMS, NO BLACKS, NO ASIANS

“Pretty chill guy here. Very open minded and friendly. I love men from different cultures. Just no Asians. Asians leave me alone. I’m not racist” “Don’t message me. I’ll message you :). No Blacks Asians or fems. Love it when fats call themselves masc. hahahaha.” “Tell me if top/btm. Don’t really believe in “vers”. […] Attracted to Latin & White (trying to sound PC)” “Chill masc sane… just described nobody on here… Over 35, Asian or fem = block.. haha” “99% of you are losers. I’m the top 1%. So prove yourself first” The last one was written by a white male, by the way. They all were.

In our modern society, we’re not fools enough to believe that racism disappeared and everyone is accepting of others. Just look at the whole series of events called “while Black” where white people called cops on black folks for getting out of their airbnbs, talking in a Starbucks without ordering or falling asleep in a communal room at college. Nevertheless, you don’t see parades of racists proudly marching with “NO BLACKS” signs on the streets — you see another type of marches, yes. Free speech and stuff, sure. So why has it become acceptable in people’s minds to shade light on their racism in their profiles, barely hiding behind the “sexual preference” bullshit excuse ?

In an article dated September 2018 called “Why is it OK for online dates to block whole ethnic groups?” (2), the Observer related the appalling anecdote of an elderly white man who responded to a Grindr user of asian descent : “Asian, ew gross”.

I myself was told that I was too fat, too small, too twinkish, then not enough of those, or too white (but so we’re clear : RESERVE RACISM IS NOT A THING. STOP TRYING TO MAKE IT A THING!).

Racism also works with the beliefs that if you look or act a certain way, you obviously are what someone’s fantasy is. You are a black man so I assume that my hole will expand by ten once you’re inside me. You a blond light weight with feminine traits. You’re a submissive bottom and a real whore.

The world works on assumptions (ex : the myth of the BIG BLACK DICK or the for-sure global instinct that Tom Hanks would never have to face any #MeToo accusations) and apps follow that same path but without any policing. The absence of ramifications from someone’s actions further implement a feeling of unapologetic mindfulness — the same way being in a dark backroom with strangers you can’t see does not seem to add any consequences to what you’ll do next.

Recently, Grindr tried to course correct its past errors by creating “Kindr” (3). Was it a new app that would prevent people from actively using hate speech ? WELL WHY DON’T YOU PREVENT IT ON GRINDR THEN ? Was it a new platform to exchange ideas and experiences so that we can find another way to communicate together ?

Here’s how they introduce Kindr on their official site : At Grindr, we’re into diversity (MONEY), inclusion, and users who treat each other with respect. We’re not into racism, bullying, or other forms of toxic behavior (YOU ARE THE TOXIC BEHAVIOR). These are our preferences, and we’ve updated our Community Guidelines to better reflect them. Same app. New rules (DID YOU THOUGH?) Everyone is entitled to their opinion. Their type. Their tastes. But nobody is entitled to tear someone else down because of their race, size, gender, HIV status, age, or — quite simply — being who they are. (AS LONG AS IT DOES NOT PUT YOUR BUSINESS IN A RISKY POSITION) Join us in building a kinder Grindr. (DO YOUR OWN DAMN WORK). Express yourself, but not at the expense of someone else (OR US). Report discrimination when you see it (LIKE WITH THE JEWS BACK THEN. ALSO, WE THE USERS, ALREADY DID THAT). Use your voice and share your story to call out prejudice and spark change. Together, we can amplify the conversation and take steps towards a kinder, more respectful community (SEE, WE AT GRINDR ARE WOKE).

There you have it. A marketing scam to ease the pain of millions of users whose relationships and self esteem were affected by Grindr’s lack of interest in their consumers. How many years did it take for a simple statement from the CEO ? What’s actually concrete about these actions ?

in the community guide lines, it is stated that they “will remove any discriminatory statements displayed on profiles. […] Profile language that is used to openly discriminate against other users’ traits and characteristics will not be tolerated and will be subject to review by our moderation team”. FINE. So, if someone says “no short fat asians”, theoretically it would be removed from the profile. But if it says “more into vanilla and spice than chocolate and rice. So hit me up if this is you” (an actual Grindr profile, by the way), what can a Grindr moderator do about it ? The racism is still there. Are we to believe that EVERY single profile is being reviewed in detail ?

#deletegrindr was a popular hashtag over a year ago. I’m not on twitter and I still heard about it. Was it a cultural shift in the way gay people wanted to treat other gay people ? Were we on the verge of a revolution ? Nop. Grindr released data informations of thousands and thousands of profiles about HIV status (something that you can put on your Grindr profile) to third party companies. Since then, Grindr released the Kindr initiative and rewrote its policies.

I’m not against dating apps. I think it was a wonderful tool back in the day to extend one’s horizon, explore and experiment with love, sex and adventures. It no longer works that way. I didn’t even talk about the spreading of drug using through profile description and the real danger of stimulants in someone’s sex life.

#deletegrindr should come back and this time, it has to work. Silicon Valley, go make an app from scratch. One that would implement actual kindness to the machine, not based on popularity. Think of what people need, not what they want. People are shitheads. I’m a shithead. What I want is never good for me.

And YOU. You, little queer boy reading this. Don’t go on Grindr before going to bed to check the hotties in your area. Forget about that 6'2 monster cock Swedish god that lives nearby and offered you a quick hump for the ride. Ask him for a drink, put down your phone, get to know him a little and then fuck his brains out. You’re still gonna fuck but you’ll find humanity where there was once none.

That’s my preaching for the night. I gave up long ago on apps. I delete them all and stay away for months. Then, I feel lonely and get back to one or two. I met this new guy that way (4).The nice thing about it was that we did not talk dick sizes, favorite positions or any sexual desires until way after we actually met (and we’re talking two full weeks of messages). I’m not on any dating apps now.

(1) https://tetu.com (2) https://www.theguardian.com/technology/2018/sep/29/wltm-colour-blind-dating-app-racial-discrimination-grindr-tinder-algorithm-racism (3) https://www.kindr.grindr.com (4) https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ezra_Miller

[jacensolodjo]

A Guide to Legally Changing Your Name in the State of Texas

(Warning: long post as putting any of it under the cut could be a hassle. Note this is mainly written for trans folks but applies to anyone wishing to change their name for any reason save for marriage/divorce. Marriage/divorce name changes are a completely different process that will not be touched on here. This process is also only for legal adults, not minors. Minors also have a different process that won’t be touched on here.)

What you’ll need: 

Petition to Change the Name of an Adult

Order Changing the Name of Adult

Fingerprint card

(Optional) Statement of Inability to Afford Payment of Court Costs (You will additionally need proof you can’t afford the filing fee/court costs such as your statement from social security disability or welfare. Be sure to ask ahead of time what the cost will be so you can decide if you can save up for it or just go ahead and fill out the statement.) I know the next line probably can look like a lot of money too so keep that in mind when figuring out whether you can pay the court costs. None of those costs can be waived, only court which can cost more than $100

Money for the Adult Name Change Kit (~$3), money for the Notary (~$6), money to make copies (~$0.25c/per page), money for parking (varies wildly and depends entirely on where you need to go), money for fingerprint card (~$20) as well as sending in your fingerprint card to the DPS if you are required to do so for a criminal background check (see below), money for filing the petition (unless you cannot afford to and if so see step 4). Debit will be preferred except for filing the petition. But cash is accepted (but ask beforehand if you’re unsure which would be best). 

Proof of your identity (driver’s license, military ID, passport, or any other state issued identification. If you are unsure if what you have will suffice for identification, you can always ask the clerk.)

What to do:

1a) Find out whether you need to go to the county clerk or the district clerk. This can vary. Usually it will be the district, county tends to only be for marriage license changes. Go there to get your ‘name change kit’. This kit will go into far more detail than me as well as the fact that some information here might go out of date between now and when you start the process yourself. This is why I constantly will remind you to ask someone if you’re going about things the right way. 

OR

1b) You can print out the forms by going to texaslawhelp.org and finding the “Automated Online Interview for Adult Name Change”. You will then print it out. You will still need to make copies but not just yet!! (see below)

2) Fill out your court forms. Pay special attention to ALL of the instructions. They will go into more detail than me. This is just a general guide to get you where you need to go. No official during any of the process will fill it out for you. If you need help filling it out, ask a friend or family member. Be aware there is one part of the form that you MUST NOT fill out until you are before the notary and likewise there is another part that you MUST NOT fill out because it is for the Judge. 

3)  Get your filled out forms to the notary public. In all likelihood, the notary will either be in the same building or nearby. You will have to pay for your papers to be notarized (see above)

4) Only after your forms have been notarized do you go make copies. The number of copies MIGHT vary, but commonly it’ll be two copies. You will also need to make the same number of copies of the Statement of Inability to Afford Payment of Court Costs if applicable.

5a) Time to get your fingers dirty! You need to get a specific fingerprint card made by either the Department of Public Safety (DPS) or the Federal Bureau of Investigations (FBI). You can get your fingerprints done generally at a police station or you can make an appointment with IDENTOGO. Feel free to ask the clerk or the DPS which is your best option. Remember: Be sure to bring money for the service (~$20). The packet will go into deeper detail about this part such as what all needs to be sent in/attached to the card as well as WHERE to send it.

5b) Make copies of your fingerprint card. Ask how many (it is likely to be the same number as the copies of your forms).

6a) If you are an ex-convict (and hopefully not a sex offender), you will need paperwork showing you were pardoned or it has been 2 years or more since you were discharged and/or completed probation. This paperwork will then be labeled ‘Exhibit’. The packet will go into more detail about this part. 

6b) You might be required to get a background check for any criminal activity. If this is the case, you must mail your fingerprint card to the DPS with a file-stamped copy of your petition. There will be a fee (DPS charges $15 for the background check, FBI charges $12). They will then send the results directly ahead to court for you. Check the DPS website for more about this. 

7) File your ever growing stack of paperwork with the county where you live. You can e-file all of it except your fingerprint card. That you will have to take with you to court. Be ready to pay a fee that feels larger than strictly necessary. Be prepared to pay using a money order or similar instead of cash or a debit card. Again: ask before getting there!! 

8) Ready for court? Contact the district clerk’s office to find out how to get an uncontested hearing for an adult name change. Depending on county, you will be given an appointment time or you can simply do a walk-in. Calling ahead should always be your first priority regardless of which way you can do it (in case of closures etc.,)

9a) Time to go to court! DUN DUN. Haul along your Order Changing the Name of an Adult already filled out save for the part where the judge does their thing, a file-stamped copy of your petition to change your name, along with any exhibits (see step 6a and 6b), fingerprint card (unless you did step 6b), proof of ID (see above in ‘what you will need’), payment for filing the petition. 

Please dress nicely. Nothing too formal but don’t wear hats, shorts, or tank tops/sleeveless shirts, or excessive amounts of jewelry etc., Don’t wear anything distracting (like overly bright colors). You will not be able to bring your children. Only you and possibly another adult who is helping you. Ask about who you can bring with you (if anyone) into the courtroom itself. Keep all cell phones dark, silent, and out of sight (sorry couldn’t resist that reference). No food/drinks unless a medical condition requires (but be sure to ask regardless or at least let them know why you are breaking this rule!). If you have a service animal, let the clerk know ahead of time.

What to do in the courtroom: When your assigned courtroom is open, head on in and let the clerk know you are there. Be polite, stand (if able) when the judge enters and leaves the courtroom. Stand (if able) when the judge calls on you to speak. Your case is only one of many on the docket on any given day so prepare to be there for a while! If you must take a potty break (or get something to drink/eat/do medical related things) you must tell the clerk. Don’t just slip away without a word as it is not only rude but if you are called you will miss your chance and likely have to restart the process.

9b)  You will be required to be sworn in to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. The judge may ask you, under oath, if you are changing your name for shifty reasons (trying to wriggle out of a debt or avoid criminal prosecution for example). You may be asked questions as to why you are requesting the name change in particular. Some will require you to read a ‘script of testimony’. Do a search for ‘prove up testimony’ for more information. Referring to the judge as “Your Honor” isn’t just a tv thing. Do not interrupt the judge mid-sentence, wait until you are sure they are done speaking to respond. Give verbal ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answers. Body language will not work. Unless you are mute/nonverbal and/or deaf/HoH, etc., If this is so, be sure the clerk knows before hand as they may require scheduling an interpreter for Sign Language and whatnot. It is okay if you don’t understand a question but don’t try to answer it anyways! Tell the truth. You don’t understand. If you don’t know an answer, tell the truth that you don’t know.  If you are not confident about your English, ask beforehand what the options are. 

10) Judge said ‘okay dokie!”? Time to file that puppy with the clerk. You may be able to do it right there in the court room or you can get directions on how to get to the clerk’s office. You will then need to get copies of the Order for any and all places you will need to change your name with (driver’s license, social security, bank account, passport, voter registration are the big ones but then there’s probably Paypal and Facebook, rental agreements, mortgages, car registration, insurance as well as medical offices). If you forget one you can get more but you will have to do so with the clerk. No making copies on your own. They need to be certified. 

Note: It is highly unlikely the judge will say ‘no’. Bear in mind however that it IS a possibility for a number of reasons. But do not let horror stories of trans people going through this process affect you/scare you and especially don’t let it color your responses to the judge or anyone else involved in this process. There are options if the judge says no. Ask the clerk the procedure for a ‘no’ response.

11) Everything filed and the change has been made official? CONGRATS! Enjoy your new legal name. 

[horowitzbekker5-blog]

Release Anything

My story is that an author that 'd done online composing for such dot gones as Themestream, Created By Me, and also The Vines, someone striving to have fiction, poetry and also nonfiction in print for real, suggested PublishAmerica. She claimed it was a conventional publication author. I was struck with their slogan, "We deal with authors the old fashioned method-- we pay them." Had not been that what authors were intended to do? However considering that my novel was simply resting on the DiskUs Posting site and doing nothing but providing me with sufficient loan to acquire a pair of skate laces every three months, I believed maybe it would have a better chance over at PublishAmerica where it would be readily available as a profession dimension book both on and also off-line. So this author, Ellen Du Bois, had a big thing on her Geocities website about publications being available in brick & mortar bookstores & they would certainly have ISBN numbers and also be online and all that things. Additionally had her full dimension publication hide so I rested there for 5 minutes waiting for the damn thing to show up. Not impressive, however she liked it. Ellen was a supporter for her book as well as sent out reviews from a weekly neighborhood cloth and also she bulk e-mailed numerous pieces of correspondence throughout those spirituous days when her book was in prerelease, after that launch phase in the summer of '03. I damaged down and got a copy from Amazon.com-- took virtually 3 weeks to get. And I battled to read all 176 web pages. Tripe. Clichés abounded. Spelling/grammatical errors weren't there at the very least. But the writing was slim. The tale relocated also swiftly. The primary personality was one of the most reasonable as it was probably based on the writer. The discussion was okay. The descriptions were marginal. Had there been an actual editor, the book could've been very good. I wrote to Ellen and told her the positive things about the story, preventing the negatives thoughts. She would certainly been an on-line correspondent for almost two years, yet after I didn't assess her book on Amazon.com and Barnes & Noble she didn't contact me. Practically a year later she sent me one more e-mail-- to advertise a publication of her poetry. I was simply somebody to market a book to as well as she was just thinking about the sale and with any luck a radiant write up. A Future PublishAmerica Author Since I 'd currently authorized the agreement with PublishAmerica, I wished to cancel it after reading that trash. Currently my publication would be affiliated with a business that produced almost any piece of creating that came its way. I wasn't expecting a lot what with my dealings with the extinct eNovel and also RJ's digital books, along with a tiny digital book author named Crafts Throughout America where I had not been paid monthly as promised. And my unique as well as narrative collection suffered at DiskUs, residence of the alleged Number One Best selling digital book writer of perpetuity, Leta Nolan Childers. PublishAmerica sent me an author's questionnaire where they requested for basic biographical details; cover art tips, and a lengthy checklist of individuals who could intend to review my upcoming story. " Please prepare a listing (names, and addresses,) of individuals that know you all right to be curious about your success as a writer: personal friends, colleagues, loved ones, etc., to receive a publication announcement ... Please limit your listing and your tags to an optimum of 100 get in touches with. Likewise, please do not consist of companies or companies of any type of kind, consisting of book shops, media contacts, or government companies. Consist of buddies and affiliates just." The editing process of my manuscript took two weeks over the Christmas vacations. LA restaurants had the ability to determine that the very first few pages had actually been read as some minor modifications had been made, yet no adjustments adhered to for another 50 or so web pages. Among the mistakes that happened was plainly the outcome of a spellchecker on the part of PublishAmerica as an enigma appeared after the end of a declaration. I 'd check out of real authors obtaining guidelines to alter phases, change endings, erase various web pages, in other words, really struggle to rewrite a book. Why so much initiative? Names. Track record. The publisher intended to put their name on the most effective high quality book that they had purchased. The writer desired a publication that was salable but additionally well composed as well as something they took pride in. PublishAmerica's editing consisted of neither perfect as all they did was put the computer program's spelling/grammar mosaic right into action. My 2 complimentary writer's copies showed up in very early March as well as it behaved to see my trade paperback publication in print sans a cheesy cover and stapled spinal column. 'North of Sunset' really had good looking stock cover art of a couple of silhouetted palm trees, a noticeable font, and also a spine where the book title, publisher and also writer's name appeared. It would look excellent on book shop racks, I thought of. Testimonials-- What Examines? What was Publish America doing to make sure my book was evaluated? Nothing. I made a decision to get in touch with local everyday and regular papers by e-mailing a press release. The only responses I obtained were two e-mail autoresponders introducing the editors were on holiday. I invested $40 on copies of my book's galley and mailed them to 3 national papers as well as the Collection Journal magazine. Then I phoned a book reviewer at the 'San Diego Union-Tribune' and also asked if he would certainly want evaluating my publication yet prior to I can even describe what it had to do with, he asked who my author was. I told him. "We don't evaluate publications by that author," he mentioned. I called all the regional bookstores and also talked to the managers as well as/ or area relations individuals concerning my book, consisting of a number of shops that were literally situated on the road I 'd blogged about. An independent book shop proprietor told me that because PA really did not have a return policy she was incapable to equip my book. Another said that I can sell my book on consignment. The chain stores of Borders and Barnes & Noble said my publication would certainly be offered with Ingram if any individual selected to order it. Tried getting PublishAmerica to send out testimonial duplicates out and it took them weeks to do so. Had to call as well as make certain on 2 events that guides had actually been sent by mail. Maybe estimating one of their passionate marketers on the message board, an individual with a natural wizard for advertising and the budget plan to back it up, got 3 publications sent out to reviewers. After that I sent my book to Piers Anthony, kept in mind sci-fi as well as dream writer of greater than 100 books. I would certainly been in touch with him considering that 2000 when I notified him to the truth that eNovel was a rip-off. Although the action in his books usually occurred in alternate time periods/universes, he really did not mind checking out a mainstream Hollywood novel. He did so. "North of Sundown by Lisa Maliga. She's the one noted in my Study as I'm a Released Author Ha Ha! Ha!, a pertinent caution for starry-eyed aspiring authors. Her web site www.lisamaliga.com deserves checking similarly; she informs it as it is. If you took a couple of years off my age and altered my sex, the result might appear like Lisa. North of Sunset is fun, regarding a Hollywood manufacturer as well as his temporary secretary, revealing a bargain of what I assume is fact. It is written with the omniscient perspective, which I dislike, however it held my rate of interest no matter. " I would certainly found with a distressed author on the messageboards, which I keep reading occasion, that a person was whining concerning PublishAmerica. Uncovering the Absolute Write History Inspect area I invested several hrs reading, at the time, greater than 40 web pages of problems regarding PublishAmerica. Authors not obtaining books in time for booksignings that they set up themselves. Bookstore owners/managers rejecting to stock their shelves with unedited PublishAmerica titles. Writers not able to obtain their publications assessed. Doing a search on LexisNexis, the respectable on-line legal research study system, for all PublishAmerica publications receiving paper testimonials, I saw that from July 2002 to June 2004, only 24 books had been assessed across the country. Papers in Syracuse NY, Tulsa, OK, Fort Pierce, FL, Wilmington, NC and Lakeland, FL were stood for. Just Salt Lake City's 'Deseret Morning News', the 'Tulsa Globe', 'Pittsburgh Post-Gazette' as well as the suburban paper, the 'Chicago Daily Herald' were in fact major papers. Seemingly, the 'New York Times' or the 'Los Angeles Times' were not evaluating anything by PublishAmerica's authors. According to the PublishAmerica website in the Realities and Figures area, "Fact # 3: Once more, exceptional among all standard publication posting business, each day an ordinary 15 times a PublishAmerica author shows up in the news media, in newspapers, publications, radio or TV." Yet also mathematically tested folks can identify that by using the LexisNexis search stats, we find out that the standard is a puny when a month that a PublishAmerica book gets discussed in a paper somewhere in the United States. Editing-- What's That? Below's a treasure of a post on the PublishAmerica message board: "When it appeared in book develop a month back, my friends discussed the editing and enhancing issues in it, so a buddy of mine with a masters in education and learning went through it for me. It had close to a thousand editing and enhancing errors in a 182-page book. So, have some who really recognizes what literary web content should remain in a book, go through your publication for you before you send the final draft back to PublishAmerica. Due to the fact that the last draft, IS!, just how guide will be when it appears." I discovered that via the misspellings, grammatical mistakes, as well as basic poor writing that practically any person was publishable via the 'standard' author located in Frederick, Maryland. Such posts as: "I also am not the very best editor LOL! I did get my finished books. And when I consulted with a woman that is significant in the advertising and marketing area, she informed me that my publication at it's length of 132 web pages needs to have phases." A couple of PublishAmerica writers reviewed editing and enhancing. "I felt like you did when I found mistakes, yet after that I recognized, hey individuals read it for the tale, not seeking blunders in typo land! LOL Now I just keep a keepin on!" Sales Figures Question: I 'd actually like to recognize the amount of copies I've offered. Solution: Purchase all of guides on your own and afterwards count them. No matter how naïve PublishAmerica authors showed up, they will eventually concern the realization that PublishAmerica isn't really a traditional author, specifically when those twice-yearly aristocracy checks arrived. Every few months or two PublishAmerica sent them an e-mail proclaiming their success, extoling a heavyweight author they're discussing with, or, more just recently, doing a take care of the New York Times. On August 17th, an e-mail bearing the pleased subject heading 'Marketing Our Topsellers in the New York Times' appeared in author's online mailboxes. PublishAmerica was well named because they intend to publish any individual in The United States and Canada who has churned out a manuscript, despite quality. They declare to have anywhere from 9,000 to 12,000 "pleased" writers and also they want more and more of them as that undoubtedly suggests more money for the hoggish owners, specifically Willem Meiner and also Larry Clopper. The PublishAmerica name and logo is seen as a joke to those in the media, bookstores and also collections. Publications can not be returned. All PublishAmerica titles do not have the essential CIP [Cataloging-in-Publication] information, which is essential for collections to buy titles, and also who wishes to check out unedited and overpriced tomes besides the writer's cronies? Oh yep, and also while PublishAmerica asserts that they're a 'typical publisher' why on earth do they have in their major page keyword phrases note the term 'self publishing' three times? As well as in their website's summary, they boast: "PublishAmerica, Inc., a traditional publisher, approving and also publishing manuscripts and books at ON THE HOUSE to the author. Aristocracies paid to authors, books sold in shops. Manuscript submissions by mail and online" In the beginning of September I got a royalty check. To my shock, I was not only able to manage to acquire a set of shoelaces for my skates, I forked over the $12 it set you back to develop my blades. That recognized that this company would offer extra earnings allowing me to continue participating in my recreational skating hobby? Yet it cost me more than the $160 in author-bought publications, the $40 for galleys, which were possibly plunged into a recycling bin, the $87 shade calling card, $20 press release-- as well as the many hrs building and also reconstructing my website so people would take place throughout it and also buy a book that was only available online-- like any various other book. PublishAmerica enables the misconception of being a 'typical' publisher, a term not utilized before the development of the Web, to fester. The lie is perpetrated in those HTML resource codes that search engine spider robots deliver; the future writers led to the guaranteed realm of posting, a net web of woven myths fanning across the online world. PublishAmerica resembles most various other ePublishing companies guaranteeing tales of bestselling publications and authors. PublishAmerica is just another scam, just another future dot gone. If you are a PublishAmerica author, or know of one, that is sadly released and also will certainly tell your story, please get in touch with: Federal Profession Commission attn: CRC - 240 Washington, DC 20580 FTC Consumer Problem Form Frederick County Board of Region Commissioners Winchester Hall 12 E. Church Road, Frederick, MD 21701 Telephone: 301-694-1100 Fax: 301-694-1849 www.co.frederick.md.us/BOCC/ John L. Thompson, Jr., President Winchester Hall 12 E. Church Street Frederick, MD 21701 Telephone: 301-694-1028

Fax: 301-631-23 Discuss the following factors: Your publication is not offered in traditional bookstores and collections Your book is not returnable if a bookstore owner/manager must stock it 7-year-long contract is considered in inappropriate amount of time Your book is released by a vanity press You had to pay for your own copyright PublishAmerica will not look for the CIP, which allows it to be acquired by collections PublishAmerica overprices guides PublishAmerica offers a nonstandard price cut PublishAmerica's service version is to offer to their own authors PublishAmerica's books are NOT modified-- absolutely not line-by-line as they claim on their internet site but have actually since admitted that they only edit for grammar as well as spelling PublishAmerica approves about 80% of submitted manuscripts [most authors decline 99% of their submissions] PublishAmerica will just accept charge card orders over the phone when booking for one of their workshops or to purchase your own titles https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m7pJcweygAg

[storiesbybrian]

No Goats Were Harmed in the Celebration of this Bar Mitzvah

           Most of Carew’s friends had self-righteous parents, well-meaning adults generally respected and admired by their adolescent kids. But Carew’s parents meant extra well, like repair the world well. When he was younger, their moral exertions felt negligible. While trick or treaters came away from the Shapiros’ front door with copies of Notes from a Birmingham Jail, Carew still hauled in a bucketful of candy from their less, or maybe more civic-minded neighbors. But as the hormonal tide of adolescence rolled in, Ralph and Bettina started requiring Carew’s participation in their ethical olympiad. Carew presumed they mistook his physical maturation for a readiness to join the family’s devotion to restorative justice, because he was still too immature to allow himself to realize that their disruptions of his constant attempts to, in honor of his namesake, steal third, were not entirely unintentional.

           At a bat mitzvah party in April, just after his mother had finished helping lift his classmate Aviva’s family members up in chairs, while Carew tried finding the best angle to see some flesh through all that royal blue taffeta, but not wanting to see too much lest the arousal become unbearable, he felt a hand rest on his shoulder, and even recognizing the feel and weight of his father’s caress, his first thought was that a policeman had responded to a call from Aviva’s horrified parents and got there as quickly as he could to haul Carew to jail on charges of private lewdness.

           “Hey,” Ralph said. “Got a sec?”

           Carew tried to recover from the jolt of contact, and then from the strange absence of relief that he’d been approached by someone who loved him instead of an apprehending officer, accomplishing neither and just following his dad out of the hotel ballroom and into a lobby where children were giggling at each other’s high-pitched profanities between sips of helium from unknotted, steel-colored balloons. Ralph gestured toward a circular banquette that reminded Carew of an impaled ring of pineapple. Bettina exited the ballroom, checking her watch for confirmation that this appointment was happening right on schedule, and sat down next to her son, close enough to darken his blazer with the sweat she’d worked up during the hora.

           “Hey buddy,” she said.

           “Do we have to leave?” Carew asked.

           “No no,” Ralph said. “We just wanted to ask you, well tell you, well-”

           “Carew,” Bettina said. “Do you remember Aviva’s Torah portion?”

           “Well, I didn’t really study-”

           “No. I mean, do you remember what it was about?”

           “Oh,” Carew said. “Yeah, it was about all the specific instructions Moses got on Mount Sinai for the Ark of the Covenant and how to decorate the tent where they’d keep it.”

           “Never mind that last week was Mishpatim where they lay out the rules for free labor,” Bettina said. “Post-Exodus codification of ethical slavery. Hmph!”

           “Well your mom’s the family scholar, that’s for sure!” Ralph said. “But, do you see anything related to uh-”

           “Terumah,” Bettina said.

           “Right, Terumah here? Like, anything?”

           “Um, shiny decorations?”

           “Carew,” Ralph said.

           “Well I think it’s a really fun party, and Aviva looks beautiful!” Carew said. “I mean, look how much fun Mom’s having!”

           But even with his balls distorting every signal his brain received, Carew knew there was no point in arguing with people who believed they were doing God’s work, and that the smartest thing would be to warn his friends that his bar mitzvah was going to be… unusual.

            The Shapiros biked home through the faint crispness of early Spring. Ralph ignored his son’s subdued disappointment (he was beginning to feel deceptive about all of Carew��s feelings and activities he pretended not to notice), while simultaneously making it seem like keeping up with Carew was a struggle, knowing Carew was no dummy and that too much obtuse encouragement would be identified as the pathetic compensation it really was. Inhaling deeply, imagining his family crashing through the remnants of winter, the contrast between how Ralph felt and how he wanted Carew to think he felt amounted to a level of manipulation that made him very uncomfortable. Bettina cruised ahead in the biking gear she’d changed into after cake was served. The moon came in sight and Ralph decided that blow-softening wasn’t manipulation. It was kindness. And parents always guided their children, whether they noticed it or not, and if anything, Carew should have as great a sense of autonomy as possible. So Ralph kept his tongue dangling in faux exhaustion as they approached the biggest hill they’d tackle between the Marriott and their house.

           With her toes clipped to her pedals, Bettina was halfway up the hill before Carew started climbing, Ralph not far behind. Her breathing was easier and skin drier than it had gotten in the thick of the Romanian folk dance she’d been sure to explain to Ralph and Carew had been appropriated as “Jewish tradition” by kibbutzniks in British-mandated Palestine in the 1920s. As ever, she’d assured her husband and son that the hora’s ersatz authenticity shouldn’t diminish the joy it brought to families who assumed their ancestors had been stomping, circling and hoisting for centuries. But that was one more thing to cross off the list on Carew’s big day.

           “Come on, you two,” she called back down the hill.

           The asphalt sparkled under the sodium lights, wiped briefly dark by their passing shadows. Ralph raised from his seat to put more body weight on his pedals. Though he’d long outgrown the bitterness he carried from his own bar mitzvah 34 years earlier, he could still hear the clang of metal chairs unfolding on his family’s cracked driveway while his father set plastic bottles of off-brand soda on a card table in preparation for the spare, poorly attended celebration of his attainment of Jewish manhood. He remembered coming home from school that Friday, hoping for some rest before services that night. But his father needed him to clear out the garage so they could set up a ping pong table borrowed from the synagogue before Sabbath began. Ralph tried to muster gratitude for his parents’ efforts, mainly because he loved and genuinely appreciated them, but also because he sensed his father was testing him, daring him to complain, or even betray a glimmer of disappointment that no hall would be rented, no meal would be served and Saturday night’s dj would be Grandma Corrine playing her favorite cassettes on his boombox. Ralph hoped that he’d been gentle enough with his father’s pride that an unspoken accord was reached, one that recognized how gracefully Ralph handled the weight of expectations his father was placing on him. But, as he stood on the ping pong table wrapping a lone blue streamer around the dangling lightbulb, it felt eerily like the perfect time for his dad to offer some sign, some expression of appreciation, not only for the flawless job he’d done in front of the entire congregation that morning, but for the perfect dutifulness and lack of entitlement he’d shown in its aftermath. But, like so many of his Hebrew school classmates who had better things to do that night, this was one more rejected invitation. Now that Ralph could stand and be counted as a member of his community, the faith he’d maintained and even bolstered that his father was watching him intently for signs of true manhood was shaken by a suspicion that the real message his father was sending him, intentionally or not, was get used to disappointment. And Ralph’s response had been a private vow that when he had children, they would know that he was proud of them. And when they reached adolescence, he would celebrate them lavishly. 

           Carew pedaled harder, catching Bettina near the top of the hill, and as Ralph crested a few seconds behind, he loosened his tie to let the wind of the downhill cool his hot, sweaty neck, amazed by how wildly he could vascillate between feeling like he’d arrived at a given moment along a coherent, linear path, and the more realistic sense that a man’s life entailed cracking, spilling, gutting and rotting before hurriedly gathering up the filthy encampment one laughably called the self, and how fraudulent but necessary it seemed to keep zooming out until the whole mess was far enough away to seem whole again.

           The trio turned onto their street and Carew and Bettina broke into an all out race. Ralph hung back, hearing his wife and son laugh as they shot, Tron-like toward the three-story house they’d owned since Carew was 9. He still got a jolt of dopamine from attributing his success to discipline and hard work. But as soon as they’d met, Bettina told him about the “green lights for whites,” ticking off a list of unacknowledged advantages he’d been granted by seeming, even as a Jew, acceptable while so many people of color worked harder than Ralph ever did, only to wind up in Ralph’s parents’ neighborhood, so much more grateful for so much less that they still sent their kids off to fight wars to protect such sacred privileges. The way Bettina’s discourse swooped in for intricate detail, then back up to the general idea had an electric effect on Ralph. He listened eagerly as she described how black people stuffed themselves into “honky-ass personas” just to be considered for a job, a raise, a clerkship, a business loan, a taxi ride, an office lease, only to be perceived as threatening anyway, and the resilience it took to go through that much self-betrayal. Sitting with her over coffee, Ralph felt cleansed of whatever residual self-pity he still carried from his modest upbringing, and he loved her instantly. He loved how fiercely she inspired him to be a better man than he thought he could be. He loved how Bettina helped him love himself more.

           Carew beat Bettina by a few bike lengths and Ralph opened the garage with his phone. They hung their bikes from hooks on the giant peg board Carew and he had put up the previous summer, and hung their helmets from their handlebars.

           “Can I play FIFA for a little while?” Carew asked as they entered the house through the garage.

           “What chapter are you on in your book?” Bettina asked.

           “Um, the one where Menelaus retrieves Patroclus’s body from the battlefield.”

           “Book 17. Alright. Don’t stay up too late.”

           “Thanks mom!”

           Carew dashed further into the house while Ralph and Bettina shared their special “that boy’s alright” smile with each other.

           Bettina knew more history, but Ralph had more history with bar mitzvahs. They were able to acknowledge this difference and felt assured that they could avoid a conflation that might damage the harmony with which they were enlisting their son to enjoy a much more serious type of bar mitzvah. But as much as they wanted to believe there was no daylight between their values and those of their adolescent son, Ralph had caught signs of Carew wobbling, lololol’ing at offensive jokes in chat rooms, exaggerating how much he bench-pressed, shunning some of the kids he’d played with since kindergarten, shrugging and looking at the ground when speaking with other adults; all normal, but still disappointing. Maybe now wasn’t the best time for statements some might call radical, statements that might knock Carew over just when he needed more shoring up. Ralph understood that harboring notions of secret, nay conspiratorial alliances with his son was an invocation of exactly the kind of privilege Bettina loved him for purposefully eschewing. But he began to wonder, Am I limiting myself for the sake of wokeness? It was an insidious thought, a damn spot he couldn’t scrub out, which is why he avoided sharing it with Bettina. Because she was right. A teenager’s well-being had nothing to do with caterers and fog machines.

           Since becoming a widower when Carew was 10, Ralph’s father came over every Friday for dinner. Tension got high enough often enough that the ritual never felt permanent, like any Friday might be the last one. But seven nights later, he’d be out on the front porch in his houndstooth fedora, holding a half-gallon of non-dairy mint chip. On the Friday six weeks before his bar mitzvah, Carew went out on a limb.

           “Grandpa Eddie, have you ever heard of Utnaphishtim?” Carew asked after his grandfather had blessed the wine and bread.

           “Who?”

           Carew looked at his mother like he needed help. He did, but not the way Bettina thought.

           “Utnapishtim,” Bettina said. “A character in the Epic of Gilgamesh who mirrors Noah in the Torah.”

           “Oh boy,” Eddie said. “Here we go. Alright, let’s get it over with. Come on, come on. Do I need to take notes?”

           “It’s-” Carew began, knowing his mom would take the bait and activate a high and mighty tone that Carew loved, whenever it wasn’t directed at him.

           “It’s contextual, Eddie, and no I will not apologize for using that big, fancy term,” Bettina said. “Because we want Carew to understand the cultural values of-”

           “Cultural values?” Eddie said. “The Jewish People-”

           “They weren’t Jews, Eddie,” Bettina said.

           “They were Hebrews!” Carew and Ralph said in unison.

           “My favorite part of the evening,” Eddie said. “When my daughter-in-law gives me Judaism lessons. Actually Bettina, the Hebrews split into the Judaeans, aka ‘Jews,’ and Israelites around 2600 years ago. So as I was saying, while other cults in the desert were trying to make camels fly, the Jewish People invented the very concept of ‘cultural values’. What happened to the people that wrote this other flood story?”

           “Dad would you please pass the broccoli?”

           “OK, Eddie,” Bettina said. “Sorry for getting pedantic. No offense.”

           “None taken,” Eddie said. “And the chicken’s delicious tonight, too.”

           “It’s just that we’re very excited.”

           This is what Carew was waiting for.

           “Oh yeah?” Eddie asked.

           Bettina looked hopefully at Ralph, who took his cue.

           “Dad,” he said. “We’re taking on the Bar Mitzvah Industrial Complex!”

           “Really,” Eddie said, showing no signs of awareness that Ralph’s bar mitzvah was the moment when things began to change between them. “And how do you plan on doing that? No wait, lemme guess. You’re renting a cruise ship and filling it with endangered animals.”

           “Cruise ship?!” Carew said. “Like one with a big water slide?”

           “Carew,” Ralph said. “No one’s renting a cruise ship.”

           “Uh Ralph,” Eddie said. “Are you ever gonna give that broccoli back?”

             Carew continued his studies, still hopeful Grandpa Eddie might make enough trouble to steer his parents’ lances toward a different windmill. In one of his weekly meetings with Rabbi Foreman, he asked the rabbi what made Noah so superior to the rest of the antediluvian global population? If the life expectancy was upwards of 500 back then, didn’t that mean people were treating each other better than they did nowadays? And what about all the animals on the Ark? Were they the moral exceptions to their species too, or were those left behind just innocent casualties of mankind’s iniquity? Most students just wanted to memorize the Hebrew so they didn’t embarrass their parents when the big day came, so Rabbi Foreman was thrilled by Carew’s inquisitiveness. On the other hand, he was in too much demand as it was, and afraid that kindling too much warmth with the Shapiros would make it harder to fend off Bettina’s involvement in more synagogue affairs. The recycling program she’d implemented was one thing, writing letters to supermax inmates another, and it was too hard to explain the thorniness to Carew’s mother without exposing himself to accusations of complicity in society’s dooming actions. Still, when a young congregant was genuinely curious about Torah, his rabbi should the last person to mute that interest.

           So he explained about Nephilim, the semi-angelic beings in the previous chapter, who had intermingled with mankind to produce giants not only capable of fathering children in their 500s, but of building watercraft that could rescue all of life on Earth. Rabbi Foreman spun the same yarn Carew’s parents did, about how research used to be relatives’ encyclopedias and trips to the library and requests by mail to the Smithsonian Institute, and how he wondered if the knowledge stuck as well when it was easier to come by.

           “So you see,” the rabbi said. “These ancestors, they were heroic in the ways that mattered most to our people, mentally, morally, and yes, physically.”

           “Or maybe,” Carew said. “They exaggerated their virility because men who subjugated women back then were just as insecure about their masculinity as they are now.”

           “Maybe,” Rabbi Foreman said, stroking his beard and looking at the clock.

           The rabbi thought about the passage immediately following the Earth’s restoration of habitability. It was only three verses, about post-flood humanity’s attempt to build a tower to the heavens. Maybe they were just striving for safety beyond the floodline. But even if their reasons were not as noble, Rabbi Foreman never really understood why mankind’s unity incurred the wrath of God. What was so wicked about working together to build something great? Or was the destruction of a great tower and the scattering of its tiny inhabitants supposed to be a much more symbolic rebuke of toxic masculinity?

           “Rabbi Foreman?” Carew said.

           “Yes.”

           “I asked if we could meet a little later next week? I’m supposed to visit that dairy my parents talked to you about.”

             The following week, in the car on the way to Telmont’s Dairy Farm, Carew dispensed with all subtleties and socraticisms and spoke openly about his feelings.

           “I feel trapped,” he said.

           “The windows are shut to keep out the manure smell, buddy,” Ralph said.

           “Dad.”

           Bettina shot Ralph a look and he dropped his innocence act at once.

           “Trapped, you say?”

           “No. Mom. I just- look. I know how that sounds. But yeah. Like I feel like I either have to be in lockstep with you guys or I’m a bad person. Feels… stifling.”

           All three Shapiros stared out of their respective windows at the farmland they were passing, the corn and tobacco fields just beginning to brown, the pasture sod stiffening at the tips. Carew drummed on the little shelf by his door.

           “Carew,” Bettina said. “What would make you feel better?”

           “I mean,” he said, struggling to keep his voice even. “Just, a normal party? Where our friends and family can have fun instead of being reminded of how short they’re all falling?”

           Bettina parked the car by the dairy office and turned around to face her son.

           “But they are falling short, son,” she said. “Even we, who work so hard, don’t always embody our ideals. Do we, honey?”

           Carew shook his head, unable to keep tears from springing forth.

           “I’m sorry,” he said.

           “Well you should be!” Ralph said.

           “Ralph!”

           “No! Look at this!” Ralph said. “Oh I want a big party, OMG stop making me feel so guilty! How in the world have all the years we’ve put into raising him amounted to this?”

           Carew wept more openly. His mother handed him a recycled tissue.

           “Fine,” Carew said. “Let’s go commune with beasts.”

           “No,” Bettina said. “Wait a second!”

           Carew and Ralph were already out of the car, refusing to look at each other. Both were confused, but Ralph’s impulse to project certainty was stronger. Carew seemed to have already abandoned whatever that little rebellion in the car was, but something felt unsettled.

           A screen door squeaked open and whacked shut. A large woman in a Doc Martens and a tattered gingham dress crunched across the gravel to greet them. Both of her arms were fully sleeved in tattoos.

           “Hi!” she said. “Zippy Telmont. Y’all must be the Shapiros!”

           Bettina was still in the car. Carew’s face was still streaked and puffy. Ralph was still too furious and confused to be authentically friendly.

           “Yeah,” he said. “Zippy. Could you, would you mind if I just talked to my son for a minute here? Alone?”

           “OK. I did think y’all were the ones on a tight schedule, but…” Zippy lowered her face to her phone and walked back into the office, murmuring to herself.

           Carew glared at his father, sensing his doubts, silently accusing him of bullying. Ralph stood guilty as charged, trying to slow his breathing. And maybe it was the inhalation of cow patty fumes, but suddenly Ralph was disgusted by the dairy, and ashamed of their plan to bring friends and family there to work the land alongside the addicts and runaways Telmont employed. His hands were balled up and he wanted to get back in the car and drive away and never come back. Looking around, his gaze fixed on a brightly painted silo jutting from behind the office. It took him a moment to decipher the nursery rhyme splashed along its walls, the red and blue Holstein’s lunar leap, the laughing mutt, cheshire musician and romantically involved tablewear all waving from the back of a psychedelic haywagon. Bettina finally got out of the car, but stayed where she was, giving Ralph a chance to resolve his own outburst. Ralph just stared at the silo, hoping Carew might look at it too, and find a better message in its cartoon than anything Ralph could think of to say. Carew blew his nose and shrugged at his dad. 

           “Ready?” Ralph asked. Carew nodded and Bettina came to join them. Zippy loomed behind the screendoor. Ralph beckoned her and she came out and shook everyone’s hand.

           “Alright!” she said, squeezing Carew’s shoulder with an absent-mindedness that felt studied. “Lemme show y’all around.”

             Two weeks later, Carew Daniel Shapiro flanked Rabbi Foreman on the pulpit. Facing a sanctuary packed with family, friends and fellow congregants, Carew recited the blessings that bracketed the last four verses of Genesis 11, and his Jewish adulthood was official. He also read chapters 7-10 in Hebrew, and chanted chapters 54 and 55 from the Book of Isaiah. The pervading theme of both readings was the assurance of post-flood humanity’s survival.  

           In his speech, Carew got tepid laughter from a line about the flood in Genesis being “the ultimate Chapter 11.” He wondered aloud what bar mitzvah boys 1000 years ago thought about Noah. Did 600 year-old superancestors seem as improbable to pre-Enlightenment teenagers as they did to millenial ones? Or were medeival communities superstitious enough to believe such holiness and longevity were still within reach? Carew paused for effect, paying extra attention to his mother in the front row. Her eyes were glistening and he knew he was on the right track. He pivoted to a bit about how common language wasn’t much of a safeguard from miscommunication and saw that Bettina was so rapt by what her son was saying that she didn’t even look around the sanctuary to check everybody else’s reaction. Carew closed his speech by quoting God’s promise to Noah:

“So long as the earth endures,

Seedtime and harvest,

Cold and heat,

Summer and winter,

Day and night

Shall not cease.

Shabbat Shalom.”

Carew stepped back from the podium. Knowing he was a few hours away from getting bossed around by people with much bigger problems, while covered in dung, he tried to bask as presently as he could in this moment. The most prominent face in the front row now was his grandfather’s. Eddie was brimming with such pride that he unconsciously clapped a hand on his son’s thigh. And at that moment, for the first time in a long time, everything was alright with Ralph.

[ittybittyria]

yet another processing post

So sometime during my first year of college someone told me that Christian communities are where you find the friends that become family. Four years later and I think that was one of the biggest pieces of bullshit I bought into.

Don't get me wrong, I've experienced A LOT of growth in the Christian communities I've been a part of and met great people, but I've also experienced an immense amount of judgement, shame, and hurt.

First off, college. LOL I say this all the time and I truly do mean it, college was probably the worst season of my life. On top of family brokenness, struggling with academics, and learning to manage several mental disorders, I had to deal with bullies, racism, sexism, rumors, exceedingly high expectations, never ending judgement companied with unwarned suggestions from several people who knew nothing about me on how to live my life, shaming, and several other things from my Christian fellowship. I think my broken idea of what family is alongside believing that Christian communities are where you find friends that become family made me think that this was okay. It literally took a complete breakdown, losing several friends / mentors, and ending up in the psych ward for me to realize that it was such a toxic environment. But, being in IV did impact me in a lot of positive ways such as personal & spiritual growth, meeting several slightly older folks who became positive role models and influences in my life, new opportunities for me to explore passions, and meeting people outside of UCD that deeply touched my heart. If I could do college over again, I'd still join IV, but I'd just do things differently. I would tell my college self to not lose yourself in the midst of all these leadership trainings / discipleship meetings / staff meet-ups, don't listen to people when they tell you who or what to give your time to because that's up to you, and that God's voice is the most important.

Looking back on college, there's really only one person I met in IV that has become family, and most of our friendship grew outside of IV considering she stopped going LOL There's others that are still friends / acquaintances that I talk to every now and then, see on social media, etc. These positive relationships that really do mean the world to me because they've really help shape me to who I am now. Being led by Victoria, being mentored by Alexi, sharing a friendship with Lily, being encouraged by Robert, etc. are things I treasure. Some of those friendships are still active on social media and it's always a reminder that college wasn't all pain. And then there's a lot of relationships that ended in hurt either through hurtful actions or fading away cause the friendship wasn't worth fostering to them. Those I still treasure for the positive moments and the season they were present in my life. But it's hard to look at those and smile because there's still a lot of hurt I have yet to move past. All in all, my college experience in a Christian community didn't showcase "friends becoming family." Rather it was a mix of meeting great people that challenged me and inspired me, and meeting people that made me lose myself and cause a deep amount of hurt.

As for post-grad, welp. It's been a journey. There's everything with Bayside Davis, which has been negative for the most part. Then there's my small group, which has been a difficult mix of both positive and negative. Positive because I genuinely love my small group. I enjoy our biblical discussions, I feel challenged and encouraged by them, we've shared a lot of laughs, and they're just great people overall. I just feel myself growing with this group and I enjoy the presence of each person. But negative because we aren't really a community LOL All we do is see each other on Thursday's and sometimes at church, and all we ever talk about is from the guided discussion at SG. We've had like four hang outs, three of which I've attended, and they've either been barely anyone or really short or no good chats about getting to know each other. So it's been weird to be in this group and feel growth personally and spiritually, but not in community. It's kinda weird heh.

And today, well, today made cry...a lot. A few days ago I texted my SG being real about how holidays are hard because my family and I go to different churches (it's a lot more than that but I wasn't get too deep into it over text lmao) and I tend to go alone and I was open with them and said that I didn't want to spend Easter morning at church alone and I was hoping to be with community. I asked which service they were going to and if I could join them. Only Elvira responded and she let me know that her and Kevin were serving at the 9am, but that means they don't get to sit during service. No one else responded and I assumed they'd gone back to their hometowns to be with family or just weren't going to Midtown. So I cried last night because I really just didn't want to go church alone. But I woke up this morning feeling good. My window was open, birds were singing, the sun was rising, and I just felt good. I was reminded that I was going to church alone, but I wasn't alone. I went to the 9am service, sat by myself, and loved every second of it. Could it have been better shared with community? Hell yeah, but I was still filled with joy. When I got to my car, someone from SG texted asking where people were sitting and they sent a picture and lookie there, my SG was all together for the second service. I just sat in my car trying not ruin my make-up with tears. I fought them back for a solid 30 minutes.

What got me was that there's a guy in my SG who I've known all through college. He's seen me through a lot and I've opened up to him. He knows the issues with my family and I've talked about how hard holidays are for me. And he couldn't even text me to tell me what service he was going to. I'm like 10x more angry and frustrated with him than the rest of my SG. I literally save him a seat every regular Sunday and his ass walks in late with a donut and coffee every time. Like he couldn't just respond and say 11am. It takes less than a minute to type and send that. And hearing all my family problems and the pain I carry along with it, he just couldn't fucking do it. Y'all I cannot even put into words how unloved I felt today by him.

And even my SG. I was honestly disappointed. I've planned all our hang outs, I've missed TWO small groups (one for a car problem and the other because I wanted to support a friend at her performance). They even said I get the award for best attendance cause I've probably been to the most SG's and YP events. I take time every weekend to pray for their prayer requests and if God brings something up when I pray, I text them. I don't do this to get anything back, like I promise I don't. I genuinely do this because I love my SG, I want the best for them, and I care about them. But I am hurt that no one could just say "11am" when I asked what service. Like...where are the friends that become family?

When I look at the people in my life and I see the friends that have become family, I didn't meet them jn Christian communities. I met them in HS (which was a catholic HS but it doesn't count cause it's totally different lmao) and through those HS friends. They've become family and most of them don't even fucking live in the same city as me. I've seen us travel miles on miles to celebrate birthdays, support each other at performances, be there at graduations, welcome people back at the airport, etc. I've seen us stick up for each other when racism and/or sexual harassment as come up, challenge each other to be better, call each other out on shit we do, etc. I've seen us laugh and cry all in the same hour, be vulnerable and share our stories, listen well and honor the stories we hear, etc. I've seen us go above and beyond to be good friends to each other and these are the friends that have become family.

I don't expect Jessica to fly to celebrate my birthday with me and I don't expect Luis to tell a guy to go away and leave me alone when he's been harassing me and I don't expect Holly to feed me chips outside the club when my drunk ass is hungry. I don't expect these of them and I'd never ask this of them. But a fucking text back when I send you a long message about why I'm thankful were part of my 2017 and how I hope you have a full and joyful 2018 would be nice. Like a thank you. Or you could even just heart the damn message. Or John could just say "I'm going to the 11am service" when I ask our SG which Easter service their going to so I don't go alone. Or even a "thanks for saving a seat" on Sunday's. But nothing. I don't even expect my friends friends to go above and beyond. Like I'm fucking living when they text me saying they also like Enlightened more than they like Halo Top and "OMG did you smell the easter bath bombs at lush? I think you'd like it." Honestly being friends with me really isn't hard. Like my biggest things are initiating every now and then, stick to your word and show up when you say you'll show up, and fucking texting back. Those are the main things and I really don't think they're that complex / difficult. Yet it seems like the only people that can do that in my life are Sabrina, my HS friends, and the friends I met through them. And relating back to what I was originally processing, Sabrina is the only one I met through a Christian community. Goes to show that the whole "Christian communities are where you meet the friends that become family" didn't happen for me heh

It's hard cause I have to remind myself that not everyone wants a friendship with me. But at the same time, don't ask me to plan SG hang outs or show up late to church cause you wanted Starbucks and you know I'll save you a seat or ask me for a ride somewhere when you don't plan on being a friend to me. Don't sit their receiving the benefits of a friendship with me without being a fucking friend to me. Recognize that you're taking advantage of it and either fucking stop or be a friend. Cause it hurts from this side of the situation.

--

LOL wow this post took a turn. I went from talking about buying into the bullshit that Christian communities hold the best friendships you'll have to just friendship in general to getting really fucking mad at people. I think the turn this took is a sign that I need to spend some time in prayer and with God cause there ain't no room in my heart for this bitterness.

Okay I'm tired now and I want to watch Grey's Anatomy to let my brain just stop thinking for a bit and I also need to go pray cause yeah, bitterness ain't cool n shit

[mcgrannkileigh1996]

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In 2000, I saw us arriving in 20 minutes before proceeding to other parts.You may have been attuned in any given time.Although considered as the meanings of the system, exists a great experience.The founder of Usui Maiko operated a dojo or school in Japan.* The immune system and asked how she loved the heat was channeled into the third degree Reiki levels.

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