#but he seems to be taking the position that if mormonism is going to get less hostile to lgbtq+ people

[obstinatecondolement]

Try though I may not to get invested in people who are Perfect Strangers to me just because they have an affable online persona, I do find myself very endeared to Brandon Sanderson. I have read none of his books, but I think his YouTube videos are very enjoyable and I am much relieved that he has both vocally affirmed his support of LGBTQ+ people in general, and trans people specifically, and has apologised (in a way that seems very sincere and earnest to me) for clumsy and unintentionally homophobic things he has said in the past. Which is, like, more than can be said of some fantasy authors.

[everydayyoulovemeless]

I saw the teen post, but what about Arcade, Raul, Vulpes, Ulysses, and our man Joshua Grahm parenting a young (orphan) child in the wasteland?

(Also your post are sooooo good<3)

Arcade, Raul, Vulpes, Ulysses, and Joshua Parenting an Orphan Child

➼ Word Count » 1.1k ➼ Warnings » None ➼ Genre » Platonic ➼ A/N » I love all these teen/child asks! They're so cute!!

Arcade isn't sure what to do when he sees you wandering Freeside alone. He'll stand off to the side and watch you for a minute, contemplating whether or not you're accompanied by someone. He doesn't want to jump in if you already have someone taking care of you, but it is a dangerous place to be in, so the worry never leaves him. Eventually, he'll go up to you to ask you a few questions. He immediately takes you to the Old Mormon Fort when you tell him you don't have any parents. At least someone will have an eye on you there. He's not the greatest with kids, especially when it comes to raising one, so you'll be brought up by all of the Followers there. They'll all pitch in here and there as you grow older. They want the best for you, so they gladly teach you all they know to help you grow into a well-rounded and intelligent individual. Of course, Arcade will still be there, and you're always welcome to go and visit his tent. He just won't be the only one watching over you. It's ironically one of the safest places to grow up in, and you'll pick up a lot of medical knowledge during your time there. The KIngs will even come by sometimes to teach you how to fight (they teach all the kids in Freeside how to throw a punch) for when you inevitably want to leave and explore the Mojave on your own. Even though you're in the slums, it's a generally comfortable way to live. And, at the very least, you'll grow up around people who genuinely care for you're well-being.

Raul sees you all by yourself in a world like this and feels an immediate obligation to take you in or, at the very least, find someone else who can. He's nervous when approaching you. He knows what he looks like, and he's not sure how someone as young as yourself will react when you see him. So, when he does walk up to you, he's careful and as non-threatening as he can manage to be. You remind him of his siblings back in Mexico. Even if he hasn't known you for long, he'll come to see you like a little sibling. It's as if life is giving him a second chance and, this time, he won't mess it up. He'd die before any harm ever came to you, and he promises to keep you as happy as possible until he finally croaks. He'll take you back to his shack, set you up in a corner, and talk to you. He'll talk 'till he feels he knows you well. Then, he'll turn the radio up and try to cheer you up by teaching you old Mexican dances. It's hard to remember the hardships you endured all alone with the corpse doing a funny jig. Raul is great at getting you to forget and is a great father figure to you. He's patient, determined, and always does his best to make you smile. You'll be in good hands with him around.

First off, if you're a girl, Vulpes isn't going to care one lick about you. He has no issue leaving a starving, homeless, orphan kid to die out in the desert. If you're a boy, he'll begrudgingly take you in and train you as a soldier for the Legion. Chances are, he's not going to be the one to raise you, and you're just going to be thrown into a training camp, but maybe if he sees enough potential (or Ceasar orders it), he'll take you under his wing. Honestly, though, you're probably better off just wandering the desert alone. There aren't many positive outcomes that being raised by the Legion will bring you.

Ulysses feels nothing but anger and pity when he sees you. Anger at the world for allowing such a young child to suffer through the destruction of the Divide and pity that you're forced to live in it. It's disappointing at best, and he takes you in immediately. You seem to be one of the only things left of his old home, and he doesn't intend to lose you with it. He'll raise you to be independent and powerful--someone that the other factions will learn to fear sooner or later in your life--but for now, he'll focus on keeping you safe. Ulysses never leaves you by yourself, and, if he does, he makes sure you're at least with the eyebots. You'll grow up in a very isolated and indoctrinating environment, where the only real source of information you get is from the radio or Ulysses himself. He cares deeply for you and brings you up as if you were his own. There's nothing in the wasteland that could ever tear him away, and he'll shield you from the horrors of the Mojave as best he can. No matter how he has to do that. He's never afraid to get his hands a little dirty, especially if it's for your sake.

Joshua is confused, to say the least. Where did you even come from? As far as he's aware, the majority of the societies that were living in Zion had been destroyed, and you're definitely not from any of the tribes. If anything, he's concerned. Concerned about where you came from and what will happen to you if he lets you continue wandering. He thanks God that he found you before anyone else did and will quickly bring you back to the Sorrows camp to have you taken care of. The natives love you and teach you as much as they can about their cultures and way of life. They raise you as if you were one of their own, teaching you how to hunt, throw a spear, start a fire, etc. When he deems you old enough, Joshua will take you out and teach you how to shoot. Making sure you know how to live is his top priority. He'll train you just as he used to train the Legionaries, just with a bit more tolerance and patience than he had before. Joshua's biggest fear is dying too soon. He's old and has given God many reasons to kill him off. He's already made arrangements for you to inherit his gun and his bible when he dies, but that doesn't mean he isn't scared. He wants to be with you as a father for as long as he can and would do anything to keep you away from the Legion or the White Legs.

[brothermouse]

Sunday doodle 8/11/24

Pitched this idea last week and got some positive responses so here’s one part of my new project. You know where it’s a collection of sketches and letters set in a steampunk alternate history world where some guy is traveling through Deseret, drawing cool stuff he sees and trying to convince his friend back home that he’s not going to get murdered by the Mormons.

Letter transcript:

My Dear Friend Victor,

As my previous letter was sent from a rather dubious, yet reliable location, I anticipate that this letter shall outpace it and reach you first. As such, I shall briefly recount its contents.

First you must know that I am well and relatively unscathed. When I arrived in St George I believed all my rough traveling behind me and it would be airships all the way to Salt Lake. Hardly thirty minutes in the sky a band of Confederate Holdouts revealed themselves and took control of the ship, intending to sail it back to one of their secret enclaves in the South to aid in their misguided “war effort”. Fortunately they were foiled by a Deseret Federal Marshal (Lt. Whitterby of the Danite division) who subdued the rebels and orchestrated an emergency landing in the town of Kanab, a good distance east of St George. As I said, the exact details are in my other letter which I sent from the Kenab post office. The postmaster there seemed old as Methusala, leading to my doubt on the speediness of that letter’s delivery. This letter I shall send from the St George post office which is of a more modern fashion.

But I must tell you of the mechanical wonder I encountered in Kanab! After the ordeal the band of Johnny Rebs were locked securely in the Kanab town hall (the town is too small for a proper jailhouse). The other passengers and I were given a little rest and refreshment in the same building (the town is also too small for a hotel). I took this time to write my previous (or possibly forthcoming) letter and send it off. After a while we heard the sound of twin airships approaching. These were the Thunderbird and the Tiancum, which Lt. Whitterby called for. One to return us to St George and the other to take away the villains. He asked us to remain where we were, that we might witness the official arrest and then sign documents witnessing that the correct persons were taken into custody (I swear these Mormons are obsessed with everything being witnessed!)

When the Deseret Marshals marched in they were accompanied by the most peculiar automatons. I was able to make sketches, which I have included. There were four of these contraptions, one for each of the Confederates. They each bore the stern face sculpted from copper or brass, I could not tell. I was told that they bore the face of that wiley old General O.P. Rockwell, who gave our General Sherman and all those Union boys such a rough time in the siege of Echo Canyon.

Each Rockwell was directed by its operator to stand directly behind the hijackers and hold the criminals' hands behind their backs, like a pair of handcuffs. Just as I was wondering why entire automatons were called for what a mere pair of handcuffs could do, one of the scoundrels broke free and made a break for it, rushing as though he would leap out of the window to freedom! But then the Rockwell machine did a strange thing. One of its hands dropped, as if it was on a hinge and a small device extended from the open wrist. With a pop, it shot a tiny harpoon attached with a thin wire at the man. I wondered at this, as the harpoon and wire were both far too small to catch a fish, let alone a desperate criminal. But when the harpoon struck him there came a sound like a deep angry buzzing and the man became stiff as a board and toppled over as if dead!

The foiled escapee was looked over and determined to still be alive, (though with quite a lot less fight in him) and was bound in the same manner as the rest. In asking Lt Whitterby what had just transpired, he told me that the machines “Rockwell Automatons” where based on a design currently being used in both London and Chicago ment to assist local law enforcement in apprehending and holding dangerous criminals. When I brought up how easily the man had been felled, the Lieutenant told me that that particular innovation was of pure Deseret origin. In the Chicago models a simple gun is concealed in the wrist, and the London model is given a club. Both were determined to be far too brutal for the liking of the Deseret Marshals, so an alternative device was created. This deceive, I was told, delivers a small electrical charge to the target, not powerful enough to kill, but just enough to temporarily confuse the nervous system and render the target harmless.

But look! I have been writing and sketching aboard the Thunderbird so long that we have been returned to St George so that I might continue my journey to Salt Lake! I must finish this letter and mail it while I can. As always I shall write to you whenever I am able.

Your friend,

Jacob K. Steinsworth

P.S. Please thank your wife, Isabel for her insistence that I carry a pocket Bible on this trip. It proved quite useful during the ordeal with those Confederate hijackers. Again, the full details are in the other letter.

[kleenexwoman]

I'm finally getting out of my fog and writing again!

Naturally, I'm writing about brain chemicals more. This time it's Steve and Eddie, and there might be a surprise mentally ill guest star I will make you feel unexpectedly bad for. (@thorniest-rose you are literally the mortal inspiration for me writing this all tbh)

Sneak preview:

Billy oozes by Eddie’s locker after lunch, and Eddie expects him to say something about Steve, but he doesn’t.

“Need some white heat,” is Billy’s opening line.

“Dude, your dealer in Los Angeles might know what the fuck you mean, but you gotta be a little more specific with us hicks,” Eddie says. “That could be, like, anything.”

“Nose candy, moron.” Billy rolls his eyes.

“Are you fuckin–” Eddie stuffs his books into his locker and lowers his voice. “What are you, a narc? You can’t just buy cocaine off me in the hallway, idiot!”

“I’m so bored, man,” Billy whines. “What, do I gotta come to your special little goblin rock in the woods or whatever for anything halfway decent?”

“Look,” Eddie says. “It’s pizza day. I have oregano, ‘cause the pizza here is basically grilled cheese, and then I have antacids so you can concentrate in class. And I have some aspirin for girls on their periods. If you want anything more interesting than that, you gotta come to my place.”

“I thought you delivered,” Billy says.

“You can walk to my place,” Eddie points out. “I don’t deliver when I can hear you blasting Speedwagon across the park.”

“There’s nothing wrong with Speedwagon,” Billy says.

“Didn’t say there was,” Eddie says. “I’m just saying, you can walk. Or drive, or whatever.”

“Fine,” Billy says, and points at him. “Five-thirty, sharp.”

“Yeah, whatever, man,” Eddie says as Billy walks off.

Whatever. He’ll be at home or he won’t. It’s not like Billy has that much money, not unless Hagan is sending him to get the drugs, which seems like a reversal of dynamic on their part. But the world has changed, who knows what bright new social order blah blah.

It’s a little more of a surprise when Eddie closes his locker ten seconds later and Nancy Wheeler, of all people, is standing there.

“I don’t sell study pills to bitches,” Eddie says.

“Yeah, I’m fine on the… study pills,” Nancy says, wrinkling up her nose like she’s not going to be slamming Mother’s Little Helpers come her frosh year of U of C or wherever the fuck she thinks she’s headed. “It’s about Steve.”

Eddie points at himself, then at Nancy, then raises his eyebrows.

“Please, please don’t sell him anything,” Nancy says.

Eddie angles his whole body towards the retreating Billy, looks back to Nancy, back to Billy, shakes his head, and then turns back to Nancy.

“That’s Billy over there,” Eddie says, “unless I’m very much mistaken.”

“I saw you sitting with him at lunch,” Nancy says.

“Yeah, well, nobody else was,” Eddie says. “Can I go to class now, hall monitor, or do we need to take this to the interrogation chamber?”

“I’m just saying that he’s been through a really hard time,” Nancy says, and raises her hands defensively, “and yes, I know I was part of that–”

“So you understand the unfeasibility, nay, the pure absurdity of your negotiating position here,” Eddie says.

“–but just because we’re broken up doesn’t mean I don’t care about him,” Nancy says. “I mean, six kids? Who has that many children in one lifetime?”

“Mormons?” Eddie blinks slowly. “I’m sorry. Are you coming to me to ask me not to engage in the commerce that is my trade, or are we discussing birth control now?”

“I’m saying that it’s probably unethical for you to target Steve for, like, drug-selling reasons when he’s just been through a really bad weekend,” Nancy says. “So please? Like, please? I don’t want to have to call his parents and explain why their son is in a straitjacket at Central State Hospital.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have called the guy ‘bullshit’ in front of all his friends then,” Eddie chirps. He opens his locker door, shoves his math book inside, and rattles it around for a few seconds just to make a point. “Seems like anything I’m gonna do after that is just gravy.”

“Look,” Nancy says from behind the locker door. “It wasn’t my best moment.”

“It wasn’t,” Eddie agrees. “Neither is this. But I’m willing to do you a favor and forget it.”

“But I’m really serious,” Nancy says. “You have no idea how much harm it could do–”

“Rule One of the Munson Doctrine.” Eddie slams his locker. “Do not give opinions or advice unless you are asked.”

“What?” Nancy tilts her head forward in that way smart girls do when they’re not sure if they’re hearing you wrong or they just think you’re stupid.

“Ethics,” Eddie says. “You mentioned ethics. I have ethics, and I’m sorry they don’t line up with yours, but that’s a big one. Rule Eight: Do not complain about that which you need not subject yourself.”

“Those are the Satanic Rules of the Earth,” Nancy says slowly. “I saw Anton LaVey on Geraldo too, y’know.”

“Okay, you got me.” Eddie throws up his hands. “Twenty bucks and I won’t sell anything to Steve this week. Are you happy?”

“Fine.” Nancy visibly sets her jaw, like she wasn’t the one just accusing Eddie of preying on the weak-minded for sport and profit, and digs a crumpled twenty out of her purse. “Thank you. I really appreciate this.”

“And I appreciate making a sale without even having to move any product,” Eddie says, stuffing the money into his pocket. “Break up with a few more guys, and I might be able to get into Warhammer.”

[the-unconquered-queen]

I’ve been thinking about a Blades modern college AU a lot lately and I kinda wanna share my HCs of what I’d see everyone doing

(they’d be aged down just a little bit for this one and we’re gonna do a bit of mental gymnastics to believe they’d be at the same place and everything and finally I don’t think the modern AU lives the writers suggested are in-character, so this does not follow that)

Aerin & Baldur: The easiest one for me. In a modern AU I still usually see them being princes so both of them are sent to uni to get political science degrees, but Aerin, who is a massive nerd and also looks forward to the peace and quiet once Baldur graduates, double majors in chemistry, too. As a bonus note, Aerin spends a lot of time in the library studying for his classes, but Baldur (who I cannot reason being an academic underperformer in a modern AU since he does have all eyes on him and a reputation to maintain) is more the kind of student who seemingly does no studying whatsoever but still manages to do reasonably well in his classes. It pisses Aerin off to no end. Also, in no universe is Aerin working at Starbucks if you try to keep the adaptation close to canon because either he's super rich with no reason to work for $14 an hour OR he's in prison for plotting an assassination, no in-between.

Imtura: Maybe she’s also a princess in a modern AU, or at least she’s the daughter of a diplomat or someone with a prominent government position, like a president or PM. She’s also expected to study something that helps her follow in her mother’s footsteps, but she says fuck that and does as she pleases. Goes for something like kinesthetics and also takes up a bunch of sports.

Tyril: Sure, he could be a noble, but I’m also fond of the HC that he’s the heir of a major company, so I could see him being a business major. Possibly takes on a minor that lets him study poetry, too. He also seems like someone who'd even go on to do a Master's, Naturally, he’s a star student even though he ends up deciding that taking over the family business isn’t quite the future he wants.

Mal: Most likely the one that does not actually go to college. Will tell anyone it’s a scam. Makes me wonder if in a modern AU he’d be a tech wiz, since in the 21st century stealing is less about physical theft and more about hacking and scams, which obviously he only pulls on rich people and assholes. Someone bothering you? Hit him up and your problem’s all taken care of. But I really like the idea that a little farther down the line he enrolls in college to study social work, because Mal is still Mal and he still wants to help kids in need.

Nia: Without a doubt she is a theology major. She was raised in a very religious community so she’s always been steered in that direction, even though her views evolve and she does a lot of personal growth as she meets a lot of different people while she’s at college, she still views her faith as a key aspect of her and wants to share it with others the right way. I could also see her taking some first aid classes on the side or in her free time, not because she ever means to practice medicine or anything, but just because she thinks it’s important knowledge. Also, sorry to everyone who thinks she'd be a super preppy influencer, but Nia is def more along the lines of a repressed Mormon kid so irl she can be kind of hard to stomach for some people even though she is incredibly sweet.

Kade: You KNOW this man is a humanities major, maybe without focusing on a specific one so he can study literature, poetry, music, and everything he likes under that umbrella, even though he does lean toward literature. Is currently the only person who can compete with Aerin on most hours spent in the library (they probably both know all the librarians by name and each has to get shooed out at closing time). If he has any of those professors who insist their own interpretation of a piece is the only valid one, then Kade’s about to become their least favorite student because he WILL debate them any day.

MC: MC’s a fun one because everyone can HC something that fits their MC’s personality, either based on the story or just what they would like to see MC doing in the modern world, but some potential majors I’m fond of for a modern MC are zoology (beastmaster), chemistry (alchemy), linguistics (MC can be fluent in at least two animal languages in the book, you can’t tell me they wouldn't be brilliant as a linguist), anything in the medical field (medicine/healing), social work if they want to work with Mal, or even something to become an international diplomat down the line (diplomacy).

[slugbug444]

An Old Friend

A/n: I haven’t written anything in months but I was talking with @skipper-the-cryptic-bastard about their kraken Kyle headcanon and I just had to >:^D

I can’t write g/t to save my life--

__

Stan leaned his head up against the back of his seat, watching mountains pass by as they drove through Utah. He wasn’t sure why they were there, exactly, but in lieu of Spring Break his dad wanted more than anything to take them to a place where he could “Get outdoors”, and “Man up a bit.” 

The car pulled away from the backroad, stopping in a dirt driveway next to a wooden cabin. It was surprisingly nice; God knows where Randy got the money to rent it out. Stan took out his headphones and grabbed his bag as his parents talked away in the front.

“Maybe we’ll catch a sea monster or two.” Randy laughed, throwing open the trunk of the car. He pulled out two fishing rods, dropping them to the ground of the dirt driveway. 

Sharon scoffed. “Don’t say that around Stan, you’ll scare him.” 

Rolling his eyes, Stan got out of the car– leaving his discman in the back seat. “I’m 16. That stuff doesn’t scare me anymore.” He sighed.

“Yeah, yeah.” Randy gave a dismissive wave, “Can you come help me get this cooler out?”

It was just past 9:00 when they made it to the Great Salt Lake, and Stan was already lamenting Shelly for not being there. It’s not like he could’ve used college work as an excuse. Not that it mattered, though, as it was now one of the few times where Stan’s dad actually wanted to spend time with him– however that may be.

Sharon wanted to give the two some alone time, leaving Stan and Randy on the dock positioned just outside of the cabin. It was nice out– Stan sat down on the wooden pier, letting his legs dangle off of the sides above the cool water below. A soft wind blew through his hair as he did so. Meanwhile, his dad pulled up the cooler– leaving it only a few feet away from the ledge before propping it open. 

Inside were a dozen or so beers, along with a jar of worms. Stan cringed as he watched them wriggle and move inside. It made his stomach lurch.

“Now I know you don’t like hunting,” Randy started, taking one of the two fishing rods from Stan’s hands. “But this is different.”

Stan raised an eyebrow at that. “They’re still alive, dad.” 

“Not if you know how to fish. They won’t even know what got them!” Randy popped open the jar of worms, stabbing one onto the tip of the fishing rod. “Now you try.”

Reluctantly, he took out a worm and hooked up his own fishing rod; casting it into the water. He squinted his eyes as he took in the morning Sun’s glare, watching as it reflected down on the lake. For a few minutes they sat in silence, with Randy eventually breaking it. Stan picked up something about sea monsters before zoning out– finding himself lost in his own thoughts. 

When he first told Kyle that he was going to Utah for Spring Break, he seemed nervous– despite the fact that he also wouldn’t be in South Park. 

“My dad wants to take me hunting, I think.” He said.

“And you can’t just do that in Colorado?” Kyle asked; he was supposed to be visiting family over Spring Break. Sbf or not, why would he care where Stan was?

At first, Stan waved it off as something to do with Utah's Mormon population, but now he wasn’t too sure. He felt his eye twitch.

“It was in the pamphlet.” Randy interrupted Stan’s thoughts, “Krakens and all. It’s a curse, I think.” He cracked open a beer from the cooler.

The tip of his fishing rod bobbed in the water, but no fish was there. “Where’s the pamphlet, then?” Stan asked; not that he believed in it, but weirder shit has happened. He could suspend his disbelief for the sake of the trip.

“One second.” Randy got up, pulling his fishing rod out of the water. “I think your mother has it.”

Stan watched as he got up and walked away, half-drunk beer still in hand. 

Once Randy disappeared behind the treeline Stan focused his attention back on the water. Something felt off; he shifted uncomfortably and looked around, but no one met him. The hair on the back of his neck stood up– as if he was being watched. 

Suddenly, something darted past him; slipping under the deck just below his feet. Stan’s breath caught in his throat. Whatever it was, it didn't look like a fish– no, fish don’t have tentacles. 

From the way it moved in the water he could tell that it was at least four to five times bigger than him. And now, whatever it was, he heard it go still; he was being watched. Keeping the fishing rod in one hand he pushed himself back, bringing his legs up from the dock. 

“Just because it’s landlocked doesn’t mean you won't find any.” Randy’s words ran through his head, “They go here when they miss the sea.” 

Stan cursed under his breath, looking through the wooden boards in an attempt to see what was there. Randy hadn’t come back yet, but he doubted he could do anything about it. 

“Who’s there?” Stan choked out. He waited for a few seconds, but a reply never came. “Well no shit…” He muttered bitterly. 

Suddenly, the thing bolted out from under the deck; it was faster than before, hidden by the glare of the sun. All Stan could see were those same tentacles, coloured a sea green– he paled in size to even one of them. 

It made its way to a nearby rock, but stopped in its tracks. Stan felt himself jolt forward, pulled by the fishing rod clasped tightly in his hands. It was hooked onto something– Stan’s heart raced as he looked down. 

It was hooked on a tentacle. 

Stan’s hands shook, but he wasn’t about to back off. The tentacle jerked around in an attempt to get free; blood stained the water where one its suckers had attached onto the metal tip. He raised a hand over his eyes in an attempt to see better, cursing his empathy as he did so.

The other tentacles had splayed out around it, hiding the rest of the creatures form– at least, the parts that couldn’t make it to the rock. Stan squinted as he tried to make it out; a distinctly human torso connected to the tentacles from the hip. They were massive– giant, even.

“What the fuck…?” Stan said, not to anyone in particular; maybe to the sea monster, or kraken, whatever it was– but he wasn’t sure if it could understand him.

Carefully, he pulled up the rod and grabbed the end of the tentacle. It was cold and slick, and almost slipped away as he held it; the jerking stopped as he did so. Stan pulled the tentacle off of the hook before letting it go, watching as it slipped back into the water. 

It started to swim away, albeit awkward and haphazardly, leaving Stan alone again on the dock. 

“Wait!” Stan shouted out, and the kraken stopped for a second time. “Can I have that again? I’ll bandage it.” He was tense, as he could tell that it was, too; why? He didn’t really know. 

To his surprise, it pushed itself back over to the dock; giving him ample time to roll up his sleeves and take grab of the tentacle again, holding it still as he used a free hand to grab the medical kit from the cooler. The final job wasn’t very well done, but he was able to wrap the tentacle in a layer of medical tape; stopping the bleeding. Stan wiped what was left of the mess with gauze, drying it off before dropping it back into the lake.

He didn’t expect the kraken to cooperate, but it stayed still through the ordeal– occupied with covering its face and upper-body. That was until Stan got a glimpse of something in the water; that being curly, orange hair floating out from behind the other tentacles. His heart raced, and his eyes met the kraken’s. 

“...Kyle?”

[bu1410]

Good afternoon TUMBLR - July 8th - 2024

“Mr. Plant has owed me a shoe since July 5, 1971.”

Gazoducto Samalayuca - Sasabe. Mexico - Nuevos Casas Grandes - Chihuahua.

Part 6

M.R.I. Magnetic Resonance Image.

The long flights from London to Bogota, from Bogota to Mexico City, to Chihuahua, had left their mark: a pain in my left knee that left me at no peace!

Doc. Norma prescribed me an MRI at the local NCG Radiology Center.

Beautiful structure, well-kept garden, apparently efficient machines. After a couple of days I went to collect the results, and it was like a bolt from the blue!

Rupture of the right anterior cruciate ligament - left knee

Grade III tear of the posterior horn of the internal meniscus and the posterior horn of the external meniscus.

Bursitis of the patella

Tenosynovitis of the patellar tendon.

Hoffitis of the left patella. My left knee was basically ''gone'' but I didn't know it and I insisted on walking on it!! I took the report to Doc Norma, who - it seemed to me - didn't get too upset (it was characteristic of her not to get upset, perhaps deriving from the religious faith she adhered to: Mormonism). Norma told me that I needed a consultation with a specialist, identified as Dr. Jose' Alvarez Obregon of the Star Medica Clinic in Ciudad Juarez.

I saw him two days later and it was again a great surprise: a young and affable person, who, after having taken a look at the MRI, immediately put me at ease by saying that the report contained a lot of ''inaccuracies' ( not to mention worse). - Listen to me – he told – if you really had all the pathologies described in the report, you would be sitting in a wheelchair by now.

So why did they write all these ''inaccuracies''?

But to do business, right? The patient worried by the first report will want to have counter-proof, and will ask for new tests, always from them. By doing this the laboratory will earn more money!

That's incredible to me Doc.….

This is Mexico, Dear Sir – go ahead, take an anti-inflammatory if you want and you will see that within a few days the pain will be gone. Until we meet again!

And so it was: after 4 days the knee pain was just a bad memory of the intercontinental flights.

Mexican Travel and Holidays.

During the three years of my stay in Mexico, I had the opportunity to take some trips and holidays within the vast Mexican territory. Although, I must admit, I would have liked to visit more places. Like Baja California for example. Cabo San Lucas was a destination on my bucket list, but unfortunately for various reasons I couldn't see it. Chiapas was also a state I would have liked to visit, especially with its ancient evidence of the Mayan civilization in Palenque. However, apart from the recurring trips to Mexico City, I managed to have some nice holidays in Yucatan and Quintana Roo. They are truly enchanting places, with vestiges of their important past, and splendid nature. The Mexican Caribbean is one of the top world destinations. Since my first trip to Cancun, in 1984, much has been done to make the Riviera Maya attractive to high-level international tourism. I particularly appreciated Tulum, where you truly live in a sort of ''magical atmosphere''. The Mayan archaeological site, well cared for by the local authorities, is something grandiose. The only site directly on the shore of the splendid sea of ​​the Gulf of Mexico. Its particular position, on the coast overlooking the sea, meant that it was the first Mayan city to be sighted by the Spaniards on March 3, 1517. Its favorable geographical position had previously made it successful, making it an important trading post for products such as fish, honey, salt, obsidian and quetzal feathers. The most important building in Tulum is undoubtedly El Castillo located near the landing, a small inlet that served as a port. A destination for tourists from all over the world, the charm of Tulum is also given by its beaches of fine sand, typical of the Caribbean coast.

The Mayan city of Chichen Itza is also spectacular, perhaps the most important archaeological site in Mexico. The Castillo or Temple of Kukulcan, dominates the ancient city, which prospered from 600 AD. to about 1200. Graphic stone sculptures survive in structures such as the playing field, the Temple of the Warriors and the Wall of Skulls. The journey from Cancun to Tulum, approximately 300 km, takes place along a modern highway totally immersed in an intricate equatorial forest.

I also had the opportunity to visit Coba', an archaeological site built by the Mayan civilization located 44 km north-west of the Tulum site. Coba' is a relatively ''new'' site where important archaeological discoveries have been found, but which is still being excavated and promises to reveal more hidden treasures. Cobá is located around two lagoons. There are some sacbé («saq′i b′e», white road), it is a typical road of the Mayan civilization that goes eastwards on the Caribbean coast and the longest covers over 100 km of distance going westwards to the Yaxuná site. The site has several large pyramids, the largest of which is in the Nohoch Mul group of pyramids, 42 meters high.

Another great place to visit is the local attraction called ''Xcaret''. It's an enormous natural reserve directly to the sea, where numbers of live animals can be seen.

I had also the opportunity to re-visit ''Isla Mujeres'' where I had my honeymoon in 1984. Lot of changes since, some of them not for good. The once tiny naif island has become a mass tourist destination nowadays.

Anycase its lagoon is still spectacular, and it's pristine waters provide a safe place to swim and snorkel.

Cancun has first-rate hotel facilities and a coastline washed by a beautiful sea. Its colors and shades are among the most beautiful I have ever seen in the world.

Final return from Mexico

The project - after many difficulties, was well underway. We had managed to have a good number of local workers who had been taught to work according to our parameters and specifications. Finally our Client was also convinced of the goodness of our work, and was showing us signs of trust. For example by removing sections of gas pipeline from other small contractors, and assigning them to us. But the unexpected was just around the corner. When I was convinced that I would complete the project, one morning in May, I had just arrived at the office, I got a call from Italy.

Company's owner: what do you think about returning to Italy? We need a Works Director for the project in Abruzzo-Molise. (Central-South Italian region)

When Gino?

Tomorrow.

Ok, tell Franca to send me the plane ticket.

It was like that, a little sad way, I left ''Querido Mexico''. Without the so called ''despedida'' (farewell party).

The next day I board a plane in Chiuhuhua to Mexico city. And than onward to Madrid-Milan.

ADIOS MEXICO!

[phoenixcatch7]

Had a very strange encounter this morning. Knock on the door from a family of four, very Victorian boarding school crossed with 40s housewife, youngish boys looking like they'd rather be anywhere else but there but resigned. All overdressed for the heat.

The father immediately starts talking about society.

For some context, I had been up till 1am moving boxes in my parents attic, which had barely any floor reinforced enough to put weight on and nowhere high enough to properly even sit upright, not to mention all the exposed fiberglass. I hadn't eaten breakfast yet, in fact I hadn't eaten or drank in nearly fifteen hours. I had had a sort of plan for if I was ever in the sort of situation I was suddenly flung into now, but before breakfast is not a time I can use braincells.

So he starts on with some opening spiel I'm genuinely not registering, and out pops the inevitable question.

'Do you think our society now is good or bad? With everything going on, Palestine...'

Now this is a question I know the answer to, I think excitedly! My lone dreg of grey matter is very pleased to be able to contribute to the conversation.

I say, 'Good'. Just one word.

And it completely shuts him down. Him and his wife are taken aback. They don't have a conversation tree for this, that they can push against, commiserate with. They look expectant, they wait for me to elaborate, to say 'well there's some horrific stuff happening, but -' that they can restart the conversation with. Not a single thought passes through my mind.

He tries again, fiddling with his leaflet. 'Well, what do you think is going to happen in the future, with all these awful things going on around us, do you think the people in charge are going to agree -'

And I interrupt him, because that is an awfully long sentence to process when part of my liquified grey matter is finally starting to ring cult, I say 'human rights'.

They look at me in total silence. In the background the toaster pops with a rattle and immediately starts drying out. I am unblinking.

'You think human rights are getting better,' the man says, in the tone of someone who's never put those words in a sentence together before. I look to his wife for a cue, and when she doesn't give it, his kids. They're not looking at me, but they don't seem to really care, either.

'I do,' I say, uncertain but unwilling to give them an inch. My internal script, having finished its if statement, returns null and puts its hands up.

I want my toast. There is a long, long silence as we all seem to grasp that I've set the conversation tree on fire.

Finally, the man presses restart on the entire thing and picks up from where I should have agreed that the world was bad and miserable. He stutters. He glances away. He shifts and restarts his sentence, his paragraph. I am genuinely not processing a single word, and I don't think I blinked then either. I catch a mumbled 'jehovahs witnesses' which is great, because I couldn't decide between that and mormonism. My brain wasn't enough to tell me what it was but it was a similar word.

The dog sprints past. Everyone jumps out of their skin. In the second it takes to step out enough to scruff her, running unexpected animal apology script, the door slams behind me in a sudden wind, loudly enough to make the mother shriek. I have enough brainpower to envision the next ten minutes before I realise with relief the door remained unlocked (it rarely does). I return to Greeting Stranger Position. The dog is banished.

'I'm so sorry,' I say. My toast is definitely stale, and it was the last in the loaf. Not even a crust remains.

The man fumbles. Most of my attention is on the lady, at this point, expecting some polite commiseration, or just some sort of Situation Deescalation noise. I'd take a clearing of the throat at this point, because there's two adults at my door and only one has talked. Neither have checked on their kids once. She stares my doorbell in the ding button. The man continues like this is going anywhere. I can't parse it into words.

Finally, he hands me the leaflet, points out the phone number and a casual 'if you ever feel alone or if you want to call-'. It's not an area code I recognise, but I'm also fairly sure I wasn't processing the written word at this point either.

They make noises of starting to go, and my brain perks up again - script! - and enthusiastically hammers the 'farewell visitors (standard)' button. I spring to life like a freshly animated corpse, a spark in my eyes as I commiserate about the heat and wish them good things for the rest of the day.

Normally the people I talk to respond in kind automatically, but the woman only sort of dips her head when I talk about how nice the unexpected sun is and to be careful not to overheat (a very common farewell this far north in sunny weather lmao). The kids don't know how to react to being addressed (you take care!) and the man keeps unconsciously trying to make eye contact, talking a steady stream of noise in the full assumption that I'm talking solely to him, which is not part of my script - genuinely something I've never encountered before - and thus I don't adapt at all. I admit, I'm used to the mother being in charge in local family units, or at least equal with the man. They turn away - I close the door - the man spins around and finally seems to realise he received a quarter of the farewells and is expecting the closed conversation to shift back to him.

I'm shaking from hunger.

My toast is indeed stale.

I don't know. It surprises me, post meal, that people who gather into these super restricting 'we will give you salvation' outsiders excluded cultish groups are so shocked at the idea of genuine faith in the world. It's what they're hawking. They knock on the door of a stranger who thinks people are generally good, actually, no notes, and that scares them. But well, I suppose that's the point, isn't it? They can't believe that or they'd leave.

Though I suppose my unblinking stare didn't help. I wish I could have been in a state for a smoother interaction, but it is what it is. Nobody got hurt, but I hope the kids get out safe. The whole family was in deep.

[dumbestthingiveeverheard]

Dumbest Thing I've Ever Heard: 8/3/2023

Fifth place: Twitter user @eyeskewer

This is a little older than the stuff I normally cover on this blog, but I feel like this is worth highlighting as it perfectly shows my issue when many who make conspiratorial claims about transgender medical care:

my "informed consent" was my doctor I had just met handing me papers telling me my voice would drop soon, I could freeze my eggs, I might get acne, and whatever else. I probably didn't even hear everything she said, I just told her I wanted the shot. so I got it. I just turned 18

So you were told you wanted something medical done to you, were told about the risks and consequences, and then got it. I really don't see what the big deal is here.

Fourth Place: Marco Rubio

Elon Musk's time as CEO of Twitter has been far from perfect, but easily the best addition he has made is the community notes feature. For just one example, here is a Tweet from Marco Rubio:

Also, those claims about the 2016 Presidential Election were never proven to be fake--just wanted to add that real quick.

Third Place: Scott Lively

The deranged homophobe who wrote an entire book blaming the Nazis on homosexuality wrote a column a couple of days back with the headline "Leftist lawfare and the abuse of power." A decent chunk of it is spent defending Russian President Vladimir Putin, but here are some highlights:

In all my years of watching corporate U.S. news about Russia and Putin, I have never seen a single counter-argument ever being offered in defense of President Putin (coverage of him is even worse than that of Trump). It's been more than a decade since Obama restarted the Cold War to punish the Russians for banning "gay" propaganda to children, when every story began to paint him as a "brutal monster" – to the point that even many conservatives (who have zero reason to trust that same media on anything) seem to agree.

The hatred of Putin on an international scale has nothing to do with the anti-homosexuality laws he has put in place while President of Russia--although, don't get me wrong, that didn't help matters, but several countries with anti-homosexuality laws are still seen in a positive light by the international community (wrongfully so, in my opinion). It was more his imperial ambitions--starting with his invasion of Georgia in 2008--that caused the international community to move away from him.

Second Place: Abby Johnson

I've mostly been ignoring the story about a handful of far-right Christians refusing to support the fringe Presidential candidate Vivek Ramaswamy because of his Hinduism, however given Abby Johnson was sold to us a few years back as a a reasonable anti-abortion activist--an oxymoron if I've ever heard one. And she has decided to take a stance against a Hindu President, saying:

Do not be a victim of Satan’s confusion right now. This is an important time for us to have clarity of mind as we are going into an election cycle. So please discern. Please use discernment right now because God hates those who are willing to put up idols over him, and he will not be mocked.

All I wish to say is that if you really want a President that's a dedicated Christian--can I recommend you a guy named Joe Biden? Oh who am I kidding, if Ramaswamy does get the nomination it's going to be just like when Billy Graham took Mormonism off his list of cults so he and his followers could vote for Mitt Romney in 2012.

Winner: Ben Shapiro

This man, considered by many to be serious political commentator, does not know the difference between eating and drinking:

[Trump] would face a whopping 641 years in prison. Which I assume means he would not survive prison. Although he is 70% preservatives at this point because he eats so much McDonalds and Diet Coke.

He eats Diet Coke? Ben, do you know how Diet Coke works?

Ben Shapiro you've said the dumbest thing I've ever heard.

[deviantartdramahub]

Thought I'd post this here. DADN has a rule against politics so I couldn't post it there. DADN is like the Jehovah's Witnesses to DADH's Mormonism when it comes to politics.

Anywho, it's both amusing and sad at the same time to watch all the hateful people on DA swarm and scramble because Donald Trump won the US elections for a second time. Like, I don't really care that much for Donald Trump (or any of the other candidates, except for RFK, but the Democrats ruined his ability to actually prevent their biggest fear from coming true, so whose fault is this really), but you can tell who is probably supposed to be your comrade or not based on who is saying what about Donald Trump being president again. In a world where the lives of Americans don't really change that much and where the lives of people in other countries certainly don't, you can count on DA of all places to make a mountain out of a molehill, emphasis on mountain because he was the president before and we didn't all die. I can tell from behind the scenes even the person this place calls Liar is running around like a chicken who realized that crossing the road would lead to a KFC.

Everybody, everybody... just relax. Take deep breaths. Did you think having a president so elderly that they had to replace him undemocratically mid-way through the campaigning process by an incredibly uncharismatic and face-turning woman who supports Israel over Palestine wasn't going to make the idea of Donald Trump's return seem appealing, especially considering she scared the third party candidates out of the race? Alas, life is not over. You're not going to die. Candidates get elected that some people don't like. It happens. And it's not like your town, city, and state officials didn't win. What? You don't live in a state, you say? Then why consider yourself in the camp of people who care? United States politics are for people who live in the states. Nobody from the United States is going to care who becomes, for instance, the prime minister of Japan. By caring so much, you all make yourselves look bad in the eyes of those who know how to use it as a litmus test.

What even is the official position of DADH?

As they say here, tell me all about it, my good friend. There is no official position. People can adhere to how they want and speak their mind as long as they're equal-opportunity. I voted third party and always do. "Vote with your heart" as they say.

[ghostlyerlkonig]

Hiii I know you said that you wouldn't answer asks about that anti censorship post but if you'd be willing to answer this I'd be grateful.

Why do you think actors safety on sets would get worse if scenes that required more levels of safety for emotional and sometimes physical protection? Would getting rid of them not get rid of the need?

howdy, im fine answering this, my contempt was related to the people trying to catch me and squash me into a corner for themselves.

so ive talked about it before some but I have a degree in stage management, if you dont know what that is, im so sorry its too vast a position in theatre for me to explain and duties vary from country to country, so ill focus on the relative parts of the job.

im going to try and keep this concise but please understand this is a very vast topic that the lack of care toward in the industry as older people in it are stubborn assholes a lot of the time and my living in Utah (otherwise known as 'most dramaturgs helping create a season here will have to stick to reccing family friendly shows due to the mormon population' capital has soured my want to be in theatre at the moment.

Part of a stage managers job as it has developed in the USA (and from what i glean from the British SM books ive read it is also like this over there) is being a resource for actors. Part of that is also being a safety resource and advocate for actors if need be. Actors do not all get good educations and experiences in "safe spaces"** to learn how intimacy works and how it has developed through really just the last 8 years. Because of this and a sort of not great push back on the idea of intimacy directors/choreographers are a necessary hire on shows where it is needed in the same way a fight choreographer is needed for fights by older vet actors (lost a lot of respect for Sean Bean with his words on that ESPECIALLY with his role as Eddard Stark) a lot of actors dont get them.

It wont be Sean Bean who is hurt emotionally during a challenging sex scene because hes a big enough name to call a stop to it, it WILL be smaller actors who are probably already being taken advantage of on sets or in rehearsal rooms.

It is the moments where I have had to look a Director in the eye as they bitched to me about an actor being scared to use a prop that could genuinely harm them and when I have actors who do not speak as to not cause issues and end up harmed in the process.

One of my directors I worked with last fall said it best when she told our cast of a particularly emotionally heavy show that had scenes that required anger at each other and sexual actions;

"This is a space where I need you to be able to be brave. We [Director and Stage Management team] will do everything we can do to help you get there but that means you have to be brave enough to start talking and let that keep growing. It will be scary and we can take time when you need it but you need to be brave."

the removal of tough scenes rather than continues advocacy to improve upon how these scenes are done technically (as in during the filming or rehearsal/blocking processes) takes away the ability to create better advocacy for safety on sets and to create these needed brave spaces in all types of scenes. Spaces that actors know are safe for them to explore with each other and ask for help when they need it and understand that if help can be given, it will be given.

It makes me sad that so many vet actors push back on this so hard, some of them cite it as a limiter on creativity (bullshit) and others seem to be dealing with it as "I walked on coals, you have to too" issue but that doesn't actually help anyone it just makes more people get hurt.

Conclusion is difficult scenes CAN be done safely. Art should not be stifled to censored safety when it is a matter of if people care enough to make sets/rehearsal rooms safe enough to do daring things in. I do not think attempting to say "NO BAD THINGS IN ART" would actually stop the bad things in art because the hays code ultimately didn't stop shit. It definitely won't stop actors from being hurt in ways making self-advocacy a welcomed and necessary thing would help lessen. You wouldn't take or refuse a harness from/to an actor who has to jump and fall, so why take or refuse them someone who is there to help them in moments of other vulnerabilities? Why are we so upset over the idea of a flesh tone cover for someone vagina or dick when we use floppy knives that retract and fake blood?

Getting rid of difficult scenes is just a bandage over a bullet wound that needs to be addressed and part of addressing that is having better safety measures and advocacy for everything on sets and in rehearsal rooms.

for more information about what can be done in rooms and on sets

Intimacy Directing for Theatre 1st Edition by Dr. Ayshia Mackie-Stephenson (Editor)

Staging Sex: Best Practices, Tools, and Techniques for Theatrical Intimacy Edition 1 by Chelsea Pace

Supporting Staged Intimacy: A Practical Guide for Theatre Creatives, Managers, and Crew By Alexis Black, Tina M. Newhauser

[thenewdeadseascrolls]

Judges 20: 29-32. "The Screw and the Bolt."

The topic of the Ambush, "a surprise attack" comes up quite a lot during discussions of the holocaust, also now after the Mormons and Republicans attacked Israel on October 7, 2023, when things seemed to be going so well. Ambushes work both ways, however.

In the context of Judaism and the Shoftim, an ambush means one must always have a moral code, one that can be used against one's enemies. We worry this means one won't be able to be sexy but we know this is not true. The Moral Code does not state one cannot do what one wants with one's partners, only that they cannot be violate the rules of the Torah.

See where our minds go?

If we saturate ourselves in reality, however, what we are seeing is the US Gov needs to engage in an ambush against the enemies of the State which are also the enemies of Israel. We saw just yesterday how the Supreme Court, which is in very big trouble due to the fact its recent decisions have been illegal and resulted in a large number of fatalities, decided to protect itself from injury by protecting a man without morality, Donald Trump.

The question of how to get rid of this man and the Justices that have helped him is to engage in an ambush. The coconuts, you see did not thoroughly research their positions during their decision to overturn RVW nor to decide he has immunity due to January 6. Neither of these is true because of a Moral Code; a precedent for professional conduct established long before humanity has decided to pretend it is meeting a diabolic personality for the first time, which it is not.

Banning abortions is a Crime Against Humanity and that is the end of it. A public official who supports a siege is no longer an official or non-official as the Supreme Court said yesterday, he is out of a job.

So the key to the ambush is to state the enemy has already been caught, and then kill them. Why President Biden is not standing up for the side of the Light is beyond me, he has all he needs and so do we, the aforementioned persons must die as penance for the evil they have done and then the rest of us need to be on our ways.

In the actual groove of the Shoftim is the struggle of the Israelites, who want to be orthodox and the Benjaminites, who want to do do their own thing. Being hooked up has its advantages as it gives a Jew an insurmountable high ground. Who has the high ground always wins. It is impossible to ambush someone who owns it. An attempt will turn into a rout.

As the story unfolds, the Israelites realize they cannot win because they have to climb up to the level of their enemies, and they try to take the battle to the road. This is what is happening now- President Biden should have ended this fucking shit the day he took office and had Donald Trump and his Republican friends shot, all in a row.

But he didn't. He took the show on the road and now all of us are leaving our houses to watch the nasty parade go by, wondering if we will have a place to return to when it is over.

Allowing Donald Trump, his party, and those Justices to live is a stupid, stupid, stupid thing to do. Israel and the world's remaining Jews are FUCKED if their madness is allowed to persist.

So the current interpretation I offer is every Jew has to fight with all of their might to protect their very lives, for they are surely in grave danger. If Joe Biden grows into his role and kills Donald Trump things will get better. Since the prospect is not optimistic, every Jew is going to have to get ready, join the army or the branch of the service that fits and prepare to kill every Mormon and Evenagelical Christian out there that thinks they can attack Israel using the gumption of the government of the United States of America and get away with it.

The threat is real, it will be real for some time. The enemy is numerous, well prepared, very determined and they are scattered all around the world. We are going to have to do what it takes to live and be victorious.

This war is no longer philosophical, political, or rhetorical, it is live. Every Jewish person has to know in their hearts and souls attacking and killing the Mormons till they are gone is the right thing to do and get it done or we will not exist. Wherever they are, we will find them, ambush them, and kill them and then we alone, not they will exist.

29 Then Israel set an ambush around Gibeah. 30 They went up against the Benjamites on the third day and took up positions against Gibeah as they had done before. 

31 The Benjamites came out to meet them and were drawn away from the city. They began to inflict casualties on the Israelites as before, so that about thirty men fell in the open field and on the roads—the one leading to Bethel and the other to Gibeah. 

32 While the Benjamites were saying, “We are defeating them as before,” the Israelites were saying, “Let’s retreat and draw them away from the city to the roads.”

The Values in Gematria are:

v. 29-30: Israel set up an ambush and took positions. The positions, the moral code are found in the Shema.

v. 31: Thirty men fell in the open field. The Number for these is 3177...גאזז‎‎‎, gas, "justice in any sense."

"The verb ζεω (zeo) means to seethe or boil, originally literally of water and other liquids but secondarily in the sense of becoming impassioned, fervent or getting worked up about something. Note that in Hebrew the verb for to boil is זיד (zid), which has the secondary meaning, not of being passionate but of being proud or insolent. Also note the similarity with the verb ζητεω (zeteo), to search for or endeavor, ζαω (zao), to live, and the noun ζωνη (zone), belt or girdle.

Our verb ζεω (zeo) occurs only twice in the New Testament: in ACTS 18:25, Apollos is called fervent in spirit, and in ROMANS 12:11 Paul likewise declares that every man should be fervent in spirit.

It should be noted that a passion for truth does not result in swinging from the rafters or trying very hard to feel "in love" with the Lord, or even to feel any other way (or, God forbid, persecute "those of other faiths," if such a thing could exist), but rather a diligence toward composure, calmness and self-control, as well as justice in any sense; a soundness of knowledge, a scientific understanding of whatever one discusses, as well as a general street-level fairness, kindness and generosity (see our article on the word πιστις, pistis, meaning faith, for more on this)."

The Number overall is 10604, י‎ו‎אֶפֶסד, "you will lose."

This fight has to conclude. There is no such thing as things looking bad on stage while they are going well backstage. This world is a shit show because this fight is not being fought, and therefore it is not won.

Those fuckups engineered and hatched a plan to attack and kill innocent Jews on Israeli soil and they and the head of their plan, Donald Trump shall not survive to do it again. Joe Biden must ensure this happens and not in November but this very second.

As v. 32 states, the fight is not over until it is won. So we fight to win, we fight fast and we fight with all the cruelty we can muster or the enemy retreats like he did during World War II and shows up again:

v. 32:  While the Benjamites were saying, “We are defeating them as before,” the Israelites were saying, “Let’s retreat and draw them away from the city to the roads.”

The Number is 11423, יאדבג‎ , yadbeg, "kindly screw the bolt in."

I know you're scared, I know it's different and odd, but put the uniform on, go and hate and kill your enemy, make some money, dance on his grave and own his property. God is on the side of Israel, He will not turn His face against us if we fight.

[saberpastel]

I had a dream last night

I was back in highschool and the guy who I had a crush on for 3 years actually liked me back.

Also there's a well cult.

--

I was back living in my childhood home. There was some sort of gathering? I'm unsure if it was family or if it was church related... probably the latter since my crush was there.

I was getting overstimulated with the amount of people inside, so I went out. I don't know if this is important, but I noticed my mom was talking to my crushes mom on my way out.

Outside, in the front yard, my crush was playing a game with one of his friends. I tried just going around them to walk down the road, but my crush yelled out to get my attention.

I assumed he was going to ask where I was going but when I turned around to look at him, he had a look on his face I've never seen before. He looked... almost shy? He was smiling in that awkward way people do when they're about to ask something they think they might get called stupid for.

He asked me to go to a dance with him.

I raised my eyebrows at this, as in the dream I was dressed very masculine. I was wearing a suit, and as far as I know, that guy is not queer in the slightest, meaning either I was wrong about that or he thinks I'm just a very masculine looking woman. Regardless, I wouldn't take either option to be his "type".

I said yes, despite almost immediately regretting it. I've never had a very good time in loud spaces, and I had literally just been trying to leave one. But he smiled at me. So I tried to forget about that for a little while.

--

I'm unsure if the dream cuts here, or if i just forgot this part, but we're timeskipping forward

--

I'm in church on a Sunday, helping clean up afterward. My mother is once again talking to my crush's mom. I wonder for a moment if they are somehow behind this, but the thought quickly leaves my mind as my crush catches up to me in the halls.

He tells me about our date plans. I don't remember most of it, but we weren't going to be spending much time actually at the dance. There was something about getting dinner with his family, and there might have been another date group involved, but he'd also set aside time for us to be alone.

(Which surprises me now, though I didn't think anything of it then. For some context, I grew up Mormon, and one of the rules when it came to dating, at least for youth (16-18), was that we had to go in groups so that there was no "temptation" to... have sex? I guess?)

I was glad he'd planned something a little more tame for me, though I didn't think he would. (IRL, he wouldn't. One of the few conversations I ever had with him, he tried to tell me that I just "hadn't been to the right kind of dance" when I said I didn't like mosh pits... I wonder if he would have asked me to a dance if I had said otherwise...)

We finish talking and I notice our mothers, once again, talking to each other. This time they glance in our direction.

--

Another timeskip, something to do with myself and my little brother going thrift shopping happened during this bit, but I don't remember it well enough to tell you much.

--

I'm once again wearing a suit, which my mother complains about because "it's going to be pretty hot and humid tonight" and she wanted me to wear something lighter. I posited that my crush would be wearing a suit as well, so if I was going to be suffering, I could suffer knowing that we were suffering together. And besides, I could always take off the suit jacket at least. My mother sighed, giving up.

She told me to go find my little brother, or something like that. Which confused me, because I had no time for that at this point. I went outside to meet my crush for the dance.

--

yet another timeskip

--

After going to the dance for a bit, we left and found ourselves walking down a road lined with trees. They seemed to be decorated by bright, colored lights being pointed into their branches, so the color bounced off their leaves. The sky was overcast, so it was dimmer outside than it would have been, making the trees seem brighter. It was beautiful.

That moment got interrupted by someone from church approaching us on the sidewalk and handing us a small flyer for an event happening just down the street. We would have ignored it, but one of the pictures used to advertise the event was a picture of my little brother standing next to a well, smiling, holding up one of the shirts we had gotten while thrift shopping before.

I remembered my mom telling me to find my little brother, and decided to go take a look.

It was like every church potluck I've been to. A table was set up with an assortment of different dishes, people were milling around, catching up with friends. The only thing absent were children running around. Which immediately sent up red flags in my brain. All of the people here were adults I knew from church, but none of their children were here.

We walked towards the largest group of people, gathering around a well. The man who had given us the flyer welcomed us into the crowd, who all turned to look at us. He began rambling on about some initiation, and the well, and how we could really, truly be saved. All we had to do was look into the well.

Now thouroughly uncomfortable, we try to back out of the crowd, but people have moved in behind us and push us slowly closer to the well. The man, seeing our hesitation, decides to prove his point. He sticks his head into the opening of the well, a light shimmering on the water that sits about a foot from the top. (super not how wells work, but dream logic ig)

The man describes the images that appear to him, something about sheep, his wedding, and then... he pulls his face away from the water.

He frowns, a little paler. "I die from a stress induced heart attack at work at the age of 45." (Note: dream brain gave me the information that this man is 41. RIP I guess.)

The crowd takes us by the arms and push my crush's face into the well first. The light shines, and he stops trying to resist. I'm horrified.

When he sits up, he looks deathly pale. I ask him what happened. He mutters something about some future event. "That poor woman."

I look down to the well, terrified of what I might see. Hands push me towards it.

And then I wake up.

--

Something tells me I should've seen the cult thing coming... Oh well.

Hm. maybe should have chosen a different word there.

I don't know if a well cult is the weirdest thing I've dreamed about or not.

[bookoformon]

Ether Chapter 6. 8-11. The Sea Monster.

A sea monster is one's oppressor(s). You have to go to them before they come to you. The outcome of Slavery in Egypt would have been very different if Pharaoh suspected Moses was starting a rebellion and decided to do something about it before Moses opened up a discussion.

8 And it came to pass that the wind did never cease to blow towards the promised land while they were upon the waters; and thus they were driven forth before the wind.

9 And they did sing praises unto the Lord; yea, the brother of Jared did sing praises unto the Lord, and he did thank and praise the Lord all the day long; and when the night came, they did not cease to praise the Lord.

10 And thus they were driven forth; and no monster of the sea could break them, neither whale that could mar them; and they did have light continually, whether it was above the water or under the water.

11 And thus they were driven forth, three hundred and forty and four days upon the water.

To be marred is to be hurt by the things we love. If we are being marred instead of married, we are enslaved to an oppressor and the relationship has to end. The Book of Mormon is hardly advice for the lovelorn but it is quite poignant in its suggestions for persons who are heartbroken.

We are trying to stay married to a government that doesn't know what it is doing nor does it seem like it gives a shit about anyone or anything. Government is a science. The management of the government has objectives, it is supposed to consist of elected and hired persons who know how to do their jobs and get them done. Not only are all the forms of oppression America is a fount of illegal, they are unprofessional, they are obvious, and intolerable.

President Biden is not doing his job by allowing the randomness of an election to decide if oppression or legally mandated standards for human equity are going to rule over us or not. Civil rights are not subject to the whims of the voters. They exist to protect humanity from this very thing, the danger of which during times like these is unmistakable.

We are being marred and need to take the fight to our oppressors the fucking Republicans and get rid of them for good.

The Values in Gematria are:

v. 8: The wind never did cease to blow. Do you assmunchers* think the government is behaving properly? Is it following the Constitution and all the laws of the land which are inflexible and have not changed?

The Value in Gematria is 13989, יגטח‎ט "I cut, you write."

God has revealed how He wants us to behave. We are supposed to write laws the outline the legal requirements outlined in the scripture. This is not happening.

v. 9: They sang praises all day long. The Value in Gematria is 8213, חבאג‎, habag, "the bug." One cannot sing praises all day long. That is silly. One cannot also bring food infected with bugs on a boat because infested food cannot be replaced. Allowing infested politicians into the government and trapping us together in a boat with them for four or six years is a mistake.

I'm still so fucking mad at Marjorie Taylor Green over Ukraine...I just can't believe it.

v. 10: Thus they were driven forth. The Value in Gematria is 14399, ידגט‎ט, idgett, "until the divorce."

Eventually, religion and the state have to separate. Our Constitution says it, the Torah says it, the Gospels say it, it says so in the Quran, and the Gematria for this verse says it.

v. 11: And thus they were driven forth, three hundred and forty and four days upon the water. The Value in Gematria is 6673, ��‎וזג‎ ‎ ‎and zag, "first is the third."

Unity in Judaism is not expressed as one but as three.

1 is not a majority this is tyranny. 2 can fight and agree only to disagree, but 3 either breaks the tie or forms a moral majority, so in Judaism three is unity as it combines the other 2.

Without universal agreement which can only take place until there are three positions, we shall be driven forth, but never arrive at the Third Temple, the Promised Land called Mashiach, "global ethical responsibility."

The American government is a government of one or two, but we need it to be a government of three. It has responsibilities it is not carrying out and the world is slipping away. This sliding has to be stopped. God has prescribed it, secular law requires it, decent people expect and are entitled to it. This is why the Torah and the Law and laws are always unity of three in combat against slavery, delusion, and oppression. Praise of God is not a remedy for this, that is ridiculous.

*=637, "grandsons of the God of Farts."

[steamishot]

setbacks

in my last post, things between matt and i were getting better. however, he since had a 100+ hour work week, one day on days and then 7 days on nights for a consecutive 8 day workweek. he became very irritable/sensitive and impossible to communicate with (imo) which led to bad communication and useless arguments again. 

we had a couples therapy session last friday with a new therapist cindy that we both like and find helpful. she’s a POC (i believe some kind of hispanic) so it seems like she’s more understanding of the immigrant mentality. in summary of the session, i learned that i tend to have a fixer/”how can i solve the problem” mentality before offering emotional support. L has pointed this out to me recently when he was going through a hard time emotionally. he mentioned multiple times that he wants me to empathize and reassure him that everything will be okay, but i just try and ask questions or use logic to help solve what i think is the problem at hand - this makes him feel worse. 

in the case between matt and i, i become a fixer when matt has anxiety/OCD attacks or starts spiraling. i try and remove the stressor (by handling it for him), or try and talk him out of the anxiety using logic (which almost never works when he’s at what cindy calls “cloud 9″ of anxiety). this dynamic has caused me to feel depleted when dealing with matt’s anxiety/OCD and act as an enabler, almost coddling him. he depends on me more to help assuage things, which in turn makes me more irritable/short fused whenever he does have anxious spirals. i overextend myself to try and “solve” his problems, when all i should do is offer emotional support and tell him it’s going to be okay. 

cindy provided a very good analogy that really helped me put things in perspective. when matt has anxiety/OCD crises, it’s equivalent to him drowning. he is only using his reptilian brain at this point to go towards flight or fight. it has been over “small” things such as using the wrong credit card to pay for something (i.e. one would get 2% back vs 5% back as an example). would it work while he’s drowning to use logic and teach him how to get out? or is it more effective to throw a life jacket to help him ground instead? all this time, i’ve been stupidly trying to use logic and explaining to him why X is not probable/not worthy of being anxious over and probably making him feel dumb for feeling certain things. 

she explained the difference between coping and grounding. coping is the consistent activities one takes to manage their stress/anxiety: exercise, yoga, meditation, socializing, etc. grounding is what one does when they realize they their anxiety is reaching a peak. she said it is the time to use one of your 5 senses to help distract your mind from reaching “cloud 9″. this could be something like smelling a perfume you like, watching something calming, listening to something soothing, etc. 

i will need matt to really put in effort in the coping and grounding aspect, and i will also try and stop my fixer tendencies because it makes matters worse. i need to be more emotionally supportive instead of coming off as blaming when someone else is mentally suffering. 

highlights of this week off:

book of mormon BOGO broadway. i watched it in LA with my brother and his friend (coincidentally named matt) back in 2014. they have since rewrote the play. it was hilarious and very liberal. the best performers are really in nyc

my director confidentially reached out to ask if i’m interested in a payroll manager position. i thanked him for considering me and said i’m very interested. it was really happy news because i’ve been at the same position for like 4 years now and itching for a promotion lol. i’ve also been helping my manager and him with faculty payroll the last half a year or so. nothing is confirmed at this point but he and the CAO both think there is a big need for this position. they would still be supportive of my remote schedule. fingers crossed that this will come to fruition. 

autocamp trip in catskills for one night. the trip was too short but it was a super nice glamping experience. we cooked in the dark in 35F weather, got to have a nice hot shower and sleep on a tempurpedic (my fav mattress thus far). this time, we did the manager’s special at hertz and got a gigantic car - the dodge durango. 

booked roundtrip business class flights and hotels (pending 2 nights) to portugal (lisbon and porto) in march. thanks to matt’s travel hacking expertise, the roundtrip flights only cost us $900 out of pocket +220K points that i’ve been hoarding in amex. the cash price of the fights would have been $20K for the two of us. 

we decided to cancel our return stay at the equinox hotel. it would have still been ~$700 so we thought we should use it towards new experiences

loved our autocamp stay in catskills; immediately booked autocamp in cape cod for april 

[wowbright]

Fic: Reid or Romney

Klaine Spring Fling: ballot

Words: ~1700 words

Rating: Teen and up

Summary: Emma introduces some new terminology to the missionaries.

This is part of my Mormon!Klaine universe. It takes place directly after Flash Fire, which I posted yesterday. I am planning to post a follow-up scene to this tomorrow or whenever I get done writing it.

My Mormon!Klaine Masterpost. (More recent posts are in bold.)

––––

Emma and Karl knew how to present a meal. There were entrée platters and salad plates and bread plates of coordinating Rosenthal china, an abundance of specialized flatware, and two wineglasses at each setting—one for water and one for soda. The white tablecloth was starched, and the Belgian lace on its edges matched that on their napkins.

The food was just as pleasant, a mix of German and contemporary dishes with the perfect balance of salt and savory.

Emma cheerfully told the missionaries about her work as a school psychologist, which more like a district-level administrative position than like being a school counselor in the United States. She said she worked one-on-one with students sometimes, but mostly she focused on educating teachers so they could better support their students. She was working on a series of pamphlets that used humor to address issues students commonly faced. “Not that much humor,” she said, “because the administration isn’t ready for that. But just enough to get kids wanting to read.”

Karl, for his part, was more congenial than when Kurt had met him at his dental office. He was more handsome, too, with frequent smiles and civilian clothes that fit more snugly than scrubs. He told stories about his year of military conscription, which sounded similar to missionary service in many ways: strict hours, uncomfortable beds, constantly pushing yourself (including through tedium), and bit of a fraternity aura about things—though with a tad more freedom. Conscripts had more time off, and were free to visit and make phone calls home or go party in the city. Under German law, they couldn't be sent to battle or even out of the country. It wasn't a terrible life.

“I made a lot of friends there,” Karl said. “Maybe because I was the base’s most reliable designated driver! But they didn’t get that my choice not to drink was for real. When your conscription ends, it's traditional to spend the entire weekend getting drunk and asking random girls to kiss you when, and they thought, surely, I would drink for that. I didn’t, and at first, they decided I was a pill. But then, when they realized I had to ask for all those kisses without the benefit of inebriation, they decided I was the cool one!”

Emma slapped Karl’s wrist affectionately. “I'm sure the missionaries don't need to hear about your conquests!”

“Oh, they weren’t conquests. It was a chore. The whole thing was a terrible chore. And then I got mono a few weeks later, so.” Karl shrugged and popped an olive into his mouth. “Besides, I would argue that the end of missionary service isn't that much different. Don’t your missionary presidents tell you to go home, date as many people as you can, and marry the first one who seems like a good fit?”

Elder Anderson nodded. Kurt slapped his knee under the table. Missionaries should never nod their heads to things that sounded ludicrous, even if they were true.

“It seems to me that's far more scandalous,” Karl said. “Jumping from mission to marital bed in no time flat.” He turned to Emma. “Have the sisters broached to the law of chastity lesson with you yet?”

“They've mentioned it.”

“And what have they mentioned?”

Schwester Wilde cleared her throat. “We don't have to talk about that right now. We're still eating dinner.”

“Oh,” said Emma. “I don't mind. It's not like Karl and I have anything to hide from each other in that area.”

That's what Kurt had been afraid of. Moving in together before you got married was dangerous territory. Emma had mentioned it having something to do with her rental term ending before the wedding, but Karl was raised in the church. He should have known better.

“So,” Emma said. “The law of chastity. It's like with the Catholics, right? No sex outside of marriage?”

“Exactly,” said Schwester Rose. She took a sip of her drink. Kurt thought he noticed her coloring go slightly pink.

“Well,” Emma said, “That's not really a problem for me. As long as we're not required to have it when we’re married.”

The sisters looked at Emma like she’d just said something in Chinese. So did Elder Anderson. Kurt, who tried not to let anything an investigator said surprise him, was pretty sure he looked the same way.

Meanwhile, Karl was looking down at his plate, his shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter.

“What?” Emma said. “There are requirements? Do you have some weird sex ceremonies like the Moonies?”

Wait, thought Kurt. The Moonies have weird sex ceremonies?

Schwester Wilde quickly regained her composure. “No. No requirements. It's between husband and wife. I mean, I suppose we would say that the married couple should carefully consider whether they are called to create a home for children, and one shouldn't withhold from their spouse in anger or bitterness, but … no requirements.”

“Oh, I see,” Emma said. “I don't withhold out of bitterness or anger, I'm just not very interested in that sort of thing. I’m asexual. Or maybe graysexual. I’m not completely sure. But, well, I'm not aromantic, obviously, or I wouldn't be in love with Karl! I guess we’ll try it eventually, if we both feel it’s right.”

Once again, the missionaries found it impossible to disguise their shock.    

Karl set his hand on Emma’s. “Dear, I know I told you that Mormons are prudish about sex. But they're also prudish about not having sex.”

“What?” said Kurt. “We're not scandalized.”

“I hope not,” Emma said sympathetically. “I spent so many years being ashamed of sex and my lack of interest in it until I met Karl and he helped me start figuring it out. It's really nothing to be scandalized by. All the feelings are natural, whether you’re a person who's interested in sex or not. Whatever degree you feel—it’s just the way you are. You know, I think I have a pamphlet about it I can give you to look at. Or maybe you can only give pamphlets and not receive them? There seem to be a lot of rules around being a missionary.”

“We’d be happy to take any pamphlets you want to give us,” Elder Anderson said.

Kurt kicked his companion’s foot under the table. Elder Anderson knew very well they shouldn’t be taking pamphlets of any kind, especially ones about sex, or about not having sex, or— well, whatever Emma’s pamphlets were about. His politeness sometimes overruled his common sense.

The topic shifted to other things. Karl was a news junkie, it seemed, and he apprised the missionaries of the top headlines they had missed thanks to their sequestration from media. The European Parliament election was coming up, which led to Karl explaining the entire EU governmental system to the American elders. It was a good distraction from the law of chastity.

“How do elections work for you, elders, when you are in Germany?” Emma asked. “In Germany, we have absentee ballots for people who are traveling abroad. Do you have the same thing in America?”

“Oh,” Elder Anderson said, as if someone had just pinched his toe. “Yes, I think so. But we don’t vote while we’re on a mission.”

Emma set down her fork. “I’m sorry?”

“Well,” interrupted Kurt, because he was worried that Elder Anderson might be one of those missionaries who thought it was literally against the rules to vote while on a mission, “in America, you can get an absentee ballot if you're not in your district when you vote, but since we're on a mission, and we don’t have time to keep up with all the news from home, a lot of missionaries choose not to vote,” Kurt said. “Unless, of course, voting is required by law in their country of origin. We always comply with laws. But voting is optional in the United States.”

Emma frowned. “That's too bad. I think it's the duty of a citizen to participate in government. Religion shouldn't dissuade people from doing so.”

“Oh,” Kurt said. “The church doesn't dissuade us at all. It's a personal choice, really.” He wasn't sure he was being entirely truthful. When he'd asked his bishop back home if he knew where Kurt should have his ballots sent when he was in Germany, his bishop had asked him to reconsider. I didn't vote on my mission, and I think that was part of why my mission went so well. It was a presidential election year, just like it will be for you, and some of my fellow missionaries kept trying to sneak looks at newspapers to find out what the candidates were up to. It was very disruptive.

Kurt had thought that was weird reason. Kurt wouldn’t need to look at newspapers. A Mormon was running for president. He already knew who he should vote for.

But Kurt followed his leader’s counsel because that’s what you were supposed to do. He only found out, while a greenie to Elder Brody, that plenty of missionaries voted while on their mission. “What? Your bishop told you not to vote? That’s ridiculous! That’s disenfrachisement.” And then, pausing to look out the window. “Eh, maybe it’s for the best. You would’ve voted for Romney anyway, like all the other tools in this mission.”

“What’s wrong with Romney?”

“His politics,” Elder Brody said. “If you want a Mormon for president, get Harry Reid on the ballot.”

Elder Brody might have been right. Maybe it was for the best. Truth told, Kurt already liked Obama better than Mitt Romney, anyway. He’d just wanted to vote for Romney because he thought it would make him more righteous.

After dinner came dessert, and after dessert, it was time for Emma’s official discussion. Kurt and Elder Anderson weren’t sticking around for that, though; they had another discussion scheduled for the evening.

Before they left, Emma looked for the sex/not-sex pamphlet in her office, but couldn’t find it. “It must be at work. I can get a copy for the sisters to give to you, Elder Anderson. Or bring a copy to church, maybe?”

“That would be—” Elder Anderson started.

“No,” Kurt interrupted. “Thank you, but we're fine.”