#eddie never talks about his secret love for folk music

[eddiephobic]

eddie finds comfort in old folk / country music bc that’s what wayne listened to a lot while he was growing up so he has a secret soft spot for it.

[heavenforblog1111]

Alive is one of the most significant songs by Pearl Jam. It is their debut single and was released on 7th July 1991 as part of their debut album 'Ten'. Alive is the song that feels like a very cheerful song to listen to, but actually has a very dark backstory to it. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qM0zINtulhM The song mainly tells the story of Eddie Vedder and his childhood experience, but the song's origins actually date further back to when Eddie joined the band. In 1990, Pearl Jam's guitarist Stone Gossard composed the music for the song 'Dollar Short' when he was still part of the band called 'Mother Love Bone'. The lead singer Andrew Wood had even sung on it but died later due to heroin overdose. Stone Gossard, Jeff Ament and Mike McCreedy started playing together intending to start a new band. Dollar Short and 4 other songs were put into a tape and circulated around to find a new singer and drummer for the group. Eddie Vedder found the tape through Jack Irons who was the drummer for Red Hot Chilli Peppers at the time. Eddie wrote the lyrics for it and sent them to the band through mail and was called by the band. They were joined by drummer Dave Krusen and eventually formed and took the name of 'Pearl Jam' after signing with Epic Records. Song Meaning The song is based on Eddie Vedder's real life. His mother Karen Lee Veder had divorced his biological father Edward Louis Severson Jr when Eddie was an infant. She remarried Peter Mueller who Eddie thought of as his biological father. He went by the name Eddie Mueller for a long time. Karen and Peter divorced but Eddie stayed with his father Peter in California so that he didn't have to change schools. After the divorce, Eddie learned the truth that about his biological father. By the time he came to know about it, Edward had already passed away from multiple sclerosis. Edward had met Eddie before but Eddie only thought of him as an old friend of his parents. The original story being told in the song is of a young man being made aware of some shocking truths. And one was that the guy he believed to be his father while growing up was not, and number two was that his real father had passed away a few years before. As if adolescence wasn't tough enough... The guy was me, but I barely knew me then. To be honest I was barely there to be known. So he took this to be a curse, like fine you told me this secret, but I've gotta figure a way to deal with this. And fine the dad's dead but I'm still alive and I've gotta deal with this. So it was a curse. Eddie Vedder Eddie talked about how being alive felt like a curse when he learnt the truth. The fact that his biological father had died and he got to know about it years later made him extremely bitter. However, when the fans heard the song they took it positively and were celebrating when the chorus was being sung during live performances. It felt like they had lifted the curse. So cut to a few years later and we're playing to larger and larger audiences and they're responding to this chorus in a way that you never thought. And folks are jumping up in the aisles, using their bodies to express themselves and singing along 'I'm still alive' en masse. So every night when I look out at this sea of people reacting on their own positive interpretation, it was really incredible. The audience changed the meaning of these words and when they sing 'I'm still alive' it's like they're celebrating. And here's the thing. When they changed the meaning of those words, they lifted the curse. Eddie Vedder There is also an element of her mother having an incestuous relation with her son because he reminds her of his biological father who is no more but that is only a fictional element added to the song. The song is the first part of the 'Momma Son' trilogy followed by Once and Footsteps. Alive is about Eddie learning the truth about his biological father, Once is about becoming disturbed and committing crimes and Footsteps is about ending up in jail.

The band was still broke at the time when they were filming the video. It was made under a budget of $20000, because the band thought it would turn out to be a stupid idea to spend high amount on a video if it didn't sell well. They used a footage of their concert at the club RKCNDY in Seattle on August 3, 1991 because the band despised the idea of lip syncing for their songs. This was the story about the band. Let me know your opinions in the comments below.

[pinetreeshapedtriangle]

I have stranger things brainrot so have some fruity four headcanons (there’s a lot, so sorry)

- Steve’s parents made him learn piano, mostly as a show of wealth. They made him learn classical, but when he started teaching himself songs he liked, they stopped paying for lessons

- Wayne bought Eddie his first guitar (Wayne likes country or folk rock music, so that’s what Eddie learned to play in his early years)

- Robin collects rocks, if she’s out you can bet on her having at least 3 in her pockets at all times. She gifts them to people (Nancy keeps them all in a special Robin box)

- Nancy tells everyone her favourite book genre is mystery, it’s actually romance. She steals books from her mom

- Steve can sing, not insanely well, but good enough to surprise people. His parents never let him though, so he’s self conscious about it. But if he’s drunk enough he’ll sing along to his music

- to add onto the above head cannon, he’ll sing El lullaby’s if she isn’t feeling good

- Nancy gives Eddie hair care tips. She even takes him to get a perm in secret, he forgets he can’t get it wet and ruins it within 5 hours (she took pictures though, somehow Steve gets them all)

- Everyone borrows Nancy’s makeup. She pretends it bothers her, but she starts buying extra so there’s always enough (Steve uses lipgloss for the first time and Eddie snorts pop out his nose when he sees)

- Robin has bad sensory issues (canon) so Nancy finds her clothes that don’t irritate her, and gives her the idea to flip her socks inside out so the seams won’t bother her

- Robin loves listening to Nancy talk about her journalism stories. She always asks about them, and even suggests issues for Nancy to look into

- Nancy hates pickles. They’re not Robins favourite but sometimes she doesn’t mind them. Nancy gets so happy to finally have someone to take her pickles, Robin doesn’t have to heart to tell Nancy she’s getting sick of them

- Dustin gets Steve a mug with ‘best big brother’ written on it. Steve cries

- Eddie makes fun of Steve’s fancy hair care products. But he uses them once and they make his hair feel and look great, so he secretly buys the same products for home. He denies it vehemently

- after the Russian interrogation, getting high gives Steve panic attacks. He tried smoking with Eddie after Vecna, and Eddie held him through the panic attack. Eddie was extra careful with labeling his edible treats after that

- Nancy puts ads for Corroded Coffin concerts in any paper she works for, the crowds are always a little bigger after that

- Robin and Steve make corroded coffin shirt for the fruity four. They’re pretty horrible, but Eddie loves them. Asks for more for the rest of the band

- Eddie LOVES ketchup. Almost to a gross degree

- Robin and Eddie flirt very obnoxiously with each other in public. They think it’s hilarious

- Steve and Robin tell everyone they’re actually cousins just to get the dating rumours to stop. They swear Jason said ‘so what?’ after hearing this

- Eddie and Nancy start hanging out more, at first Nancy was helping him study but they actually got along great. Once Steve asked what they talk about and they both said ‘you’. They call themselves the ‘Steve’s type squad’ (they actually gush over a romance series they both read. Eddie would rather die than admit this)

[skinks]

I would just like to say Bongo Smugglers killed me. I’m sitting in class giggling thinking about a Losers movie night where they have a dramatic showing of the movie. Audra and Richie are less embarrassed then they should be. It becomes an annual tradition to play a bongo smugglers™️ drinking game at Christmas.

AHH this is amazing, I just shoved two words together that I thought were funny and suddenly it’s this whole ugly 2002 sex comedy fully formed in my head. Glad it killed you during class. And yeah, they’re definitely not embarrassed, everyone’s heckling the writing and the early 2000s fashion more than anything else anyway.

Richie happily provides commentary the whole way through even though he’s only in the sex scene, waving his tortilla chip in Eddie’s face because he’s got his arm around his shoulder, hugging him close into Richie’s side. Eddie keeps snapping bites at it so often that Richie just ends up hand feeding him chips.

“Aaaaaaand... that’s the first time I touched a boob, right there!“

“Glad to help,” Audra winks.

“The exact moment I realized I was totally lying to myself. I’m having an entire existential sexuality crisis right there on camera, but can you tell? Does my fratty façade crack an inch?”

“I could tell, because you spent fifteen minutes before the scene pacing around set and chanting you can do this, you can do this, don’t throw up, you like girls, but not too much, because you don’t get paid if you pop a boner, c’mon Richard, c’mon—”

“Like I said,” Richie shouts, over all his stupid friends laughing at him, “no one can tell, ‘cus I’m a pro—”

“You call yourself Richard during pep talks?” Stan’s grinning at him sharp-beaked, like a vulture. Has Richie seen him blink even once since he came back from the dead? Not sure, not sure, make note to ask Patty to spy.

Onscreen Audra is shimmying down her low-rise stone-wash boot-cut jeans, boots with the fur, the whole club was in fact lookin’ at her. What the fuck was anyone thinking back then? Richie privately blames the Bush administration, and continues.

“You’re a great scene partner, Audra-my-deah, and I respect you for cougaring not one but two of our little balding Brady Bunch here, but you were kinda the reason I figured out I’m gay. Like, big time gay. Well, the second reason.” He rubs tortilla-salt fingers through Eddie’s hair and feels his stomach go fuzzy when Eddie kinda thrums out a low noise against him. Oh, he’s purring. Some deep down part of Richie’s caveman psyche, lodged right in the hungry reptilian nub of his central brain wants to bear-hug Eddie to a pulp, wants to Lenny him like a mouse until they both stop breathing at the same exact moment from the pressure.

Yeesh, dark!

He smooches one of Eddie’s Easter Island eyebrows instead, keeps his lips mushed there. Smooches again. “Biiiiiiig time.”

“My wife,” Bill whips around from his seat on the floor at Richie’s feet, cheeks bulging with wontons, “my wife did not cougar me.”

Eddie shushes him. Everyone else is exchanging Looks, including Audra, because she totally did cougar Bill. Good for her!

“My wife,” Richie mimics, all sing-song and bugling. “Who the fuck are you, Borat?” Eddie snorts, hard. “Turn around and watch me make sweet love to ya woman, Bill.”

Onscreen Richie is struggling out of a giant hockey jersey at the sight of Onscreen Audra’s nubile charms. Everything is lit terribly, to a Smash Mouth deep cut.

“Oh man, check out that figure.” Richie whistles at himself, twenty-six years old with muscles like long ropes. “These were the pre-gut days. Even though my diet was just Adderall and instant ramen.”

“I like your gut,” Eddie murmurs, squidging at it with the hand not shoved up the back of Richie’s shirt. He’s already looking pretty tipsy, because he told everyone loudly and at length that he’d have to be what he deemed, shithouse drunk, to cope with whatever 90 minute dick jokeathon he was about to endure for the sake of two minutes of Richie-ass. “You’re hotter than him.”

Richie preens. “I am him, dude.”

Eddie’s hand lands clumsy on his cheek, pulling Richie’s attention away from his own foregrounded bare ass and Onscreen Audra’s shocked expression, to face him. Eddie’s all unfocused, flushed in the cheeks. “You’re both hot. Him and you, I’d fuck you both. I’d let both of you fuck me at once.”

“Um,” says Ben. Mike keeps slorping up noodles, but his eyes are saucering at Bill’s giant TV.

“Hhohkaaay,” Richie breathes.

“Is this when you saw it, Audra?” Bev asks. She waggles her eyebrows at them from the muscular nook of Ben’s arms. “The famous Tower of Tozier? You mentioned in the group chat.”

“What group chat,” Richie croaks, wrenching his eyes from the sight of Eddie’s slick tongue pulsing gently against his lower lip, hanging open like he wants Richie to see inside his mouth. Yowza-yowza-yowza, this is so much better than movie-nights back in the 90s. “I never saw anything about that? And I monitor you all on WhatsApp twenty-four-sevs. I literally have nothing better to do while Eddie’s working.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Beverly dismisses him with a flick of her wrist.

Audra is nodding vigorously while Onscreen Audra tilts her head comically far to the right. “That’s when I saw it,” she says. “They couldn’t find a modesty sock that fit you, Richie, remember? I didn’t have to fake that reaction. And that’s with them blasting the A/C on high so my nips would poke through my shirt.” She nudges Eddie’s shin gently and stage-whispers, “Well done.”

Eddie growls hot miso breath into Richie’s neck. Snarls, really. That’s the only word for it. Richie’s not embarrassed—he’s been telling people about his donkey schlong for years, not his fault nobody ever believes him. It’s a boy who cried wolf situation, perhaps, if the boy was actually telling the truth every time and just wanted to brag to everyone about seeing a really big, thick wolf.

“Honey,” Bill says, visibly distressed, “this is already weird enough for me, please don’t say nips.”

“Nips, nips, nips.” Audra tickles into Bill’s ribs, and Richie joins in the chant, they all do. It’s a hailstorm of sesame toast raining on Big Bill’s protesting head. “Stiff nips! Stiff nips!”

“Shut up, I’m, uh’wanna see Rich fuck!” Eddie roars, wrestling the couch cushions for the remote and stabbing the volume obscenely loud.

Moans fill the air. Rice sprays from Mike’s mouth, between his hasty fingers. Patty is laughing so hard into Stan’s shoulder Richie would be kinda worried about her, if he wasn’t so distracted by the way Eddie’s leaning forward, hand on Richie’s thigh and eyes locked to Onscreen Richie’s bare bucking hips. He remembers this part horrible and clear, preserved behind glass in his mind like the embarrassing ninth grade school photo his mom still won’t remove from the mantelpiece. Braces like train tracks and his eyes squinted up small and moleish because his mom said she wanted to see his handsome face without his glasses for once. Eddie laughed at it for five whole minutes the first time Richie brought him up to visit mom and dad as his—as his, at last, before snapping a careful picture of the photo with his phone and muttering, so cute.

It’s the noises.

“This was the day I learned women really can, uh, fake orgasms,” Richie says. He coughs. Eddie’s fingers tighten on his thigh and he looks back at Richie over his shoulder, eyes all drunk and dark and dilated like a shark’s to the backdrop of Onscreen Richie and Audra’s plastic din. Richie’s head thumps dizzily, sliding his hand secret under Eddie’s shirt to the damp small of his back, watching his neck go pink. This, now this is familiar from 90s movie nights, how sweaty they’d get, tangled together like pocketed earbuds the longer the VHS spun. Always on the same couch by unspoken agreement, kicking and left to do so by the others, like the clubhouse hammock flirting was more RichieandEddie status quo than behaviour tethered to any one location. Feeling your heartbeat in your ears and everywhere your limbs are shoved between another sapling boy-body, and the couch.

Richie can see exactly what Eddie’s thinking, in that darkness. That’s not how you sound in bed with me.

“This is revolting,” says Stan, mildly, but Richie holds up his hand like a stop sign, pulled roughly back to the present.

“Wait, wait, here comes my line!”

“Thought you said it was a non-speaking—”

The camera cuts from Onscreen Audra’s bouncing breasts to Onscreen Richie’s slack-jawed face, his ill-conceived soul patch. He was asked to remove his glasses for the scene, he remembers, and was glad of it, feeling useless and young and stupid and exposed enough already just by virtue of needing the money, he didn’t need to see this perfectly nice and reasonable actress pity him for not even knowing how to pretend at being with a woman. Onscreen Richie tilts his chin up, and Bill’s entire rec room holds its breath. There will be bruises on Richie’s thigh tomorrow.

A grunt, a groan. An unsubtle trumpet fanfare musical cue on the soundtrack, but hey, neither of them ever claimed Bongo Smugglers was a masterpiece. “¡Ay, chihuahua!”

Richie throws his arms up in triumph. “All my own improv, folks! And they kept it in the final cut!”

Eruption. He’s pelted with howls of disgust and prawn crackers. Eddie grabs one of his arms and just shakes him, ragdolls Richie’s laughing body around until he tips over and sprawls into Eddie’s lap, shielded from assault. Eddie chews his insistent teeth into Richie’s shoulder, and finally, the scene ends with Onscreen Richie leaping a naked escape from Onscreen Audra’s balcony.

“Worst,” Eddie mumbles against Richie’s nape. “Worst thing’ve ever seening m’life.”

He’s so drunk, sweet thing. Richie sits back up, still wheezing. He rests his cheek on Eddie’s shoulder and gazes starrily up at his plastered little face. Steel-cut jaw softened with laughter and stubble, un-gelled hair curling around like a chestnut lamb’s. “Worst ever-ever?”

“No,” Eddie says plainly, and that’s true, “but it’s up there. Woulda rented the shit out of this at Blockbuster.”

Richie flings his leg over Eddie’s knees, kicking Bill in the process. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees, gathering up all Richie’s loose ends in a big circling cuddle. “Every week. Woulda worn it out. Broke the disc.”

“Got your ‘Lil ‘Busters membership card revoked for being a creep.”

“Worth it.”

“Aw, Eddie-baby.”

“Would you two stop, you’re making the rest of us look bad,” Bev says, smiling fondly. The movie’s moved on, and none of them are really paying attention now that the main event’s over, but everyone’s still coming down, dismounting from belly-laughter and landing ankle-deep in giggles. “That was inspired.”

“He made me laugh so hard on that take,” Audra sighs, leaning against Bill. “I remember thinking, shame he’s a closet-case. I always knew you were a good guy under all that fake stand-up.” She rolls her head back on her neck to look at Richie, upside down. “D’you remember right after, too?”

“Ah,” says Richie, tensing up. Eddie must feel it, because he makes a lowing noise of concern and turns the volume down.

“What you did to those guys?”

“Ahaha, uh.” Richie struggles to sit upright with hot embarrassment tugging at his stomach. “They don’t need to—Audra, it’s not, anyone would’ve done the same—”

“No, actually, you were the only one who ever did,” Audra says, sharp-eyed, and Richie remembers that too. How much surer and in control of herself she was than him, even back then, when they were both just simple bottom-feeders on L.A.’s sludgy floor.

“What happened?” Patty asks. They’re all looking. Richie stares at the wall beside the TV’s garish over-saturation, scratches at the back of his neck, until Eddie takes his hand softly back to hold in his.

“I was pretty much always the only woman on set,” Audra explains. “Par for the course on a movie like that, it was whatever. It’s nothing like real sex, obviously, you have to stop and wait for lighting changes, new set-ups and stuff, you’re surrounded by crew. But you’re the only ones naked, and pretending to fuck, right? It can be a little.” She pulls a face, tilts her palm back and forth. “Degrading.”

Richie snorts, humorlessly.

“Anyway, that scene wrapped and they called cut, and a few of the guys in the crew said some stuff. About me. The director ignored it, the producer ignored it. I was used to it,” Audra says. Richie can see the edge of Bill’s jaw clench and re-clench like a fist as he watches his wife speak. Audra smiles widely, then, and jerks a thumb at Richie. “But this guy?”

They’re grinning, they’re all grinning, because they know him. Richie squirms under it. He can feel blood pounding behind his ears, across the surface of his scalp in pulsing waves of embarrassed heat, because it’s one thing to spend your life running your big fat Trashmouth to distract the bullies’ attention onto you, but it’s another for people to treat you like some kinda hero for it. Like it’s not just something friends do.

Bev’s eyes go all emerald-shiny with delight, like the quarry in sunlight. She covers her mouth. “Oh, Richie.”

“Knocked the first one out cold,” Audra crows. “You tried your best after that. It was three against one and he had a black eye before the rest of us could separate them, but he had the element of surprise at first. I mean, he flew at them, if you can imagine it—you’re what, six-one, six-two?”

Eddie’s trembling ever-so-slightly against him. Richie screws his eyes shut. “Six-two.”

“No wonder the asshole shit himself, you came at him all six-foot-two naked inches, pissed as hell, with a massive—”

“Alright!” Richie yelps, because if there’s anything more embarrassing than his brief Bongo Smugglers cameo, it’s the fact that he left set that day with a black eye and no money. Who cares. His closest friends are alive and they’re cheering, and Eddie is shoving himself into Richie’s lap just like it’s movie night in 1991 but with 100% more enthusiastic frenching, seating his drunk ass in Richie’s startled hands and hissing god, you’re such a crazy dumbass, I love you so much, Richie, even back then with that soul-patch I’d have loved you so much, god, sexy, Rich, wanna see you with a black eye, can I give you one, can you give me one, Richie, I’m gonna fuck you so good for this later, ay chihuahua—!

[softest-cinnamon-roll]

Okay. Since I have NO CHILL.... But what about a fic where reddie gets together in secret and hides their relationship. But they go away for a weekend after graduation and the losers are already suspicious, but it’s then confirmed when eddie&richie both post a selfie of them kissing in front of like. Idk a sunset or a cute background and is just like “surprise” (but is it really??)

(sorry for the wait Sara but here you go!)

* * * * *

Eddie stepped out of the classroom at the end of sixth period and he headed towards the exit where all the losers met up to walk home. It had become a sort of routine when Mike arrived at the school during Freshman Year. They had decided that since Mike was knew, and thanks to all the bullying, they would be safer in numbers and took turns walking Mike to the Farm to school and then from.

It was during one of these walks that Eddie and Richie merged into EddieandRichie. Since the group had decided to pair up when walking Mike to and from the farm and Ben and Bev had paired up, as well as Bill and Stan, that left Richie and Eddie. Not that the two were complaining, as even before that, they were gravitating towards each other.

Then one winter evening after they dropped Mike off and it was just starting to get dark outside, Richie had laced their fingers together on the path away from the farm. Eddie fought back a smile as his cheeks flushed, hidden by the darkness of the night. By the time they reached Eddie’s house, they were both smiling like idiots and Richie had brought Eddie’s hand to his lips, kissing it softly.

“G’night, Eds.”

Four months later and they were well into a relationship, even if it was being kept a secret from the other losers. Both Richie and Eddie had agreed, mutually, that they would keep their relationship to themselves and not draw any more attention to them or their friends. According to them, the last thing they needed was everyone staring at them for being gay and in love.

Eddie was just about to step outside when a pair of arms were wrapped around his waist and pulled him into the supply closet. The door was closed behind him and Richie’s lips were on Eddie’s kissing him deep and burying his hands into his hair. “Heya, Eds,” he breathed against his lips.

“Rich, what are you doing?” Eddie asked, pulling away just a little. “The others, they’re waiting for us...we don’t want them to catch us.”

Richie shrugged, keeping his arm around Eddie’s waist, “Wanted to see you before,” he mumbled. “I miss you, I miss not being able to see you and kiss you whenever I want.” He ran his free hand through his hair, “Come away with me this weekend, please? My folks, you know that summer house they have just outside Boston? Come with me and we can...be us, together?”

Eddie paused, looking into Richie’s eyes, “Rich...my mom would never let me, you know that,” he whispered. “She barely lets me stay over at Bills on a Friday night. What makes you think she’ll let me disappear for the whole weekend? With you no less.” After the words left his lips, Eddie realised how awful it sounded. “Rich-”

“It’s fine,” Richie shook his head. “I have a plan just...you trust me right?” He asked. “I have a plan. Meet me at the barrens tonight at seven and you won’t have to worry about the rest of the weekend. Your mother won’t even know your gone.”

Of course, Eddie was wary, but he trusted Richie with his life and sure, it would be great to spend a weekend away with his boyfriend without being scared or hiding. “Okay, I’ll be at the barrens tonight, at seven,” he nodded his head. “We need to go now though, before someone comes looking and they find us.”

Although reluctant, Richie agreed and let Eddie leave the closet first, following behind him and swung an arm over his shoulder. It wasn’t out of the ordinary, as Richie was always touching Eddie in some way or the other. The others were all still waiting for them outside, and Bev raised her eyebrows at them, but didn’t say anything, simply moving into step with Ben as they all made their way towards Mike’s farm, something they did every Friday night as it meant spending more time together.

As soon as Eddie stepped into the house after they all parted ways, he moved into the kitchen to see a note from his mother. It was letting him know she had gone to her sisters for the weekend he was to be on his best behaviour in her absence and she would see him on Sunday evening. A smile broke onto Eddie’s face as he realised this was the reason he wouldn’t have a problem sneaking away with Richie for the weekend.

He rushed up the stairs and pulled out his mini-suitcase, packing some overnight clothes for the weekend before making his way out to the barrens where Richie was already waiting for him, his truck parked to the side and ready to go. Eddie didn’t hesitate in throwing his bag into the backseat and wrapping his arms around Richie’s neck in a hug. “How did you know my mother would be gone for the weekend?”

Richie grinned at him, leaning down to steal a quick kiss before pulling back. “My mom overheard her on the phone at the supermarket. She must have been talking to her sister or something. She gave me the heads up. Mags really is our relationship MVP.”

“Yeah, but that’s because she’s the only one who knows about us. You can’t say that Bev wouldn’t be high on the MVP scale if she knew,” Eddie grinned, stepping back and heading to the passenger side of Richie’s truck. Richie just laughed and followed him around, climbing into the driver’s seat and turning the keys in the ignition.

“I tried to convince dad to give me his car this weekend,” Richie mumbled as he pulled away from the barrens and onto the main road. “He said that no amount of begging would let him trust me with his car, so my truck it is, Eds.”

Eddie just rolled his eyes a little and got comfortable in the seat, “You cleaned the truck up for me, that’s the best I could have asked for to be honest.” They fell into a comfortable silence, the music playing from the stereo that was hooked up to Richie’s phone. “Is this my playlist?” Eddie asked after a few songs, all of which featured on Richie’s playlist that he named ‘Eds’.

He watched a flush appear on his boyfriend’s cheeks, but there was no answer, so Eddie picked up his phone from where it sat, logging in to Spotify. Sure enough, it was his ‘Eds’ playlist, and Eddie couldn’t help the smile that broke out onto his face. Richie squawked from his seat, “Don’t laugh at me!”

“I’m not laughing!” Eddie defended himself, shaking his head. “I’m impressed that you know me so well to have all my favourite songs on the one playlist.” He continued to flick through the songs that Richie had on his playlist as he had always known it existed, but only now was he getting the chance to actually see.

“You know, I think Bev knows about us,” Richie muttered about half way through the drive. Eddie looked over at him from where he was lost in thought, looking at the scenery outside the window. “I told her I couldn’t hang out on Sunday with her…because of course I’ll be with you and she just gave me this look…as though she knew that I’d be with you.”

Eddie frowned, tilting his head to the side, “Well, it’s almost graduation and we’ll all be leaving for college soon. They are going to find out sooner or later because I have no plans on ending this with you.” He let out a sigh. “I think we should tell them, when we get back. Get all the losers together and just…come clean. Aren’t you tired of hiding from them?”

Breathing out a sigh of relief, Richie nodded his head and made a turn in, pulling up to a service stop that was by a lake reservoir. The sight was one to behold, as the sun was just beginning to set, casting a warm orange glow over the water. “Why wait until Sunday?” Richie asked and grabbed his phone. Eddie watching him get out of the car and head over to the edge of the lake.

“What do you mean?” Eddie asked as he got out of the car, following him until they were standing side by side. “We’re not going back, Rich. I want to spend this weekend with you.”

Richie nodded, “And we are, I’m not saying we go back. I’m saying we take a really cheesy picture of us kissing in front of the sunset and send it to them in the group chat.” His eyebrows waggled as he pulled up the camera and Eddie relented, nodding his head. Richie grinned and held the phone away from him as he leaned down, catching Eddie’s lips in a kiss as he snapped the picture.

Eddie had to say, he was rather impressed at the turnout of the picture and allowed Richie to send it to all the losers in the chat. Barely five seconds later, both of their phones were blowing up with messages in response.

Bev: I KNEW IT. I FUCKING KNEW IT

Billy: Gross guys, right in front of my salad, really?

Haystack: I’m so happy for you!

Mikey: Congratulations guys!

Stan the Man: You all owe me 5 bucks.

Stan the Man: Congrats.

Both of them just laughed and turned their phones off. They would deal with their friends on Sunday when they got back to Derry. Right now though, they just slipped back into Richie’s truck and continued to the holiday home, happy and in love.

* * * * *

@richietoaster @tozier-boy @eds-trashmouth @bitchbrak @sloppybitchreddie @its-stranger-than-you-think @maximusfraker @jem-carstairs-is-perfection @thejadeazalea @halfway-happy353 @tinyarmedtrex @inthebreadbinwrites @kat-ships-everything @takeourpure @lo-v-ers @that-weird-girls-blog @studpuffin @s-s-georgie @reddie-for-anything @trashmouthtozierr @richietoizer @girasol-eddie @bi-bi-richie @honeybeehanlon @mars-14 @reddiesetandgo @marsisaplanetyall @xandertheundead @sedanleystanley @hawkinsbabe @beepbeeprichiellc @stellarbisexual @oldguybones @stanleuyris @eduardoandale  @purplepoisonedgem @reddie-to-cryy @pink-psychic @violetreddie @toziesque @queen-sock @appojoos @moonlightrichie @rreddies @disneyfan567 @annxmatron @lifesucksheres20bucks @anellope @roobarrtrashmouth @are-you-reddie-for-it @callmechee @nancynwheeler @reddieforlove @twoidiotsinl0ve @madi-artist @tozierking @s-onora @atownofeggs  @wilding-throught-thehallways @no-she-wasnt-reddie @dadbodrichie @thorn-harvester-ven @eddiekasbpark @sparklingrainbowdragon @ransonelovebot @gloire-celeste @derrylosers @3tothe1 @virgo-luthie @sashadrowned @spirited-marvel @losers-gotta-stick-together @rebecca-the-queen @ultrapaninibred

[pigeon-princess]

Edmund Ravenwood’s Backstory

Thank you all for being so patient!! I finally have the comprehensive story of my DnD character Edmund’s life, past experiences, how he met his patron The Winter Prince and right up until he first ran into our dnd party! I’ve also included a lot of of never before seen secret artwork below the cut! 

Some of the backstory content discussed in this has not been shared with the other players in the campaign, so if anyone of you are reading this (Selby I’m looking at you) avert your eyes!! 

EDMUND’S EARLY YEARS

For the full family history of the Ravenwoods, I only know as much as Edmund knows which is not a lot (My DM holds the secrets). As far as it concerns to Edmund, the Ravenwood family have always been renowned for their arcane abilities, holding a strong Elven lineage that dates back centuries. His father, Rykar Ravenwood used be high ranking officer in the Queen’s army before she died and now holds the position of Kings representative for the state of Vela, in the continent of Lunaris. 

During the time of his military service, Edmund’s father left his family to fight for a few years and when he returned, he brought back his illegitimate Half Elven son, much to the dismay of his wife, Selphine Ravenwood. The identity of Edmund’s birth mother is unknown to him (Only my DM knows) and absolutely everyone refuses to talk about it, the only thing he can assume was that she was human. Although not knowing has left Edmund feeling uneasy at times, in order to fit in with his family, he’s never dwelt on who she could be or had any strong desire to seek her out.

Edmund is the middle child of Ravenwood's 5 children. The oldest son, Ambrose is a respected professor at Hansen’s Academy of the Arcane, doing his best to keep himself composed and proper despite Edmund giving him constant headaches. The oldest daughter Leona is the commander of Vela’s current military force, she has a particularly cold and serious attitude towards most things. Corda, who is slightly younger than Edmund, takes after her mother and is a young socialite with an interest in fashion. She hides a particularly cruel personality behind her sweet smile. Erinaya is the youngest of five children, and has always been the one sibling that openly cares for Edmund. She has outward adoration for him and he would often take her out for adventures and play with her throughout their childhood together. 

His parents were distant in his upbringing, his father would occasionally show him slight signs of warmth when the rest of the family was not around. However, his mother held a particular disdain for him as Edmund was a walking, talking reminder of her husband’s infidelity.

Another constant reminder that Edmund did not fit into his family was the fact that he was completely magically inept. Despite countless tutors, he was unable to do any kind of magic properly, either the spells would not work at all or things had a habit of exploding. The crueler members of his family (His mother and Corda) would often say that it’s the filthy blood in his veins (the human half) that stops the magic from coming to him. 

While spending most of his time being raised by the family’s hired nanny Mary, he developed a similar accent to her own, one less posh than the rest of his family which suited him just fine when people commented on it (Eddie’s accent more is East London/Cockney while his family is closer to am upper class English accent. I used to be really bad at speaking in his accent but I’ve gotten a lot better with practice and now I can slip into it no problem!).  

Most of Edmund’s early years were spent playing out in the woods at the back of the Ravenwood's grand estate. It was there that Edmund met his first friends, two human twins by the names of Rosa and Elijah and despite how his parents discouraged him from associating with the common folk, it only urged him to seek them out more. His friends started calling him Eddie, and the nickname stuck as his little band of friends grew over the years. 

Some of his new mates included a chilled out blue Tiefling called Hex, who is the go to guy to get ahold of all your illegal substances (He was also the person that Edmund lost his virginity to in their teenage years), a Half Orc named Zarak (He became the designated Mum friend of the group) and a Gnome girl with a bold personality called Kiplin. 

AURIGA & APOLLO 

By the time Eddie was a teenager, rebellion was deeply rooted into his personality. The next state over from Vela is a place called Auriga, it's known for its loud music and wild parties. Using the family’s teleportation circle, Eddie and his mates would nearly always sneak off for nights out and spring break holidays. 

A lot of those years spent partying in Auriga are still very hazy to Eddie to this day, the copious amounts of alcohol, party drugs and occasional hook ups have all blurred together. However, things took a turn when on one of these wild nights out, his friends dragged him to a concert for a band of bards known as Killer Korpse. 

Watching the lead singer perform, Eddie was absolutely starstruck and fell in love on the spot. Apollo was everything Eddie dreamed of, a rebellious bard full of magic, singing about not giving a shit and as an added bonus he was a human which his parents would hate. Everything to do with Apollo was a world away from his uptight family and a reputation he has no hopes of living up to. 

After stalking the band for several weeks, hanging outside the backstage door and hovering in the taverns they were staying in, surprisingly Apollo actually took notice of him. One night when Eddie was hopelessly loitering near backstage, the door opened and instead of the usual guard telling him to fuck off, Apollo stepped out and right over to him and Eddie stared up at him completely lost for words.

Apollo thought the stalker kid was really funny so he decided to bring him backstage to meet the rest of the band. After Eddie had downed a bunch of drinks he started oversharing about how much he hated his family and it was then that it clicked for Apollo who Eddie actually is, since the Ravenwoods are very well known. When Eddie started a very drunk confession of love to Apollo, he decided he was going to have a lot of fun with this and a few minutes later Apollo had Eddie pinned to the couch in a very drunk make out session.

After that Eddie was caught in a whirlwind of things and over the spring break he was brought along with the band for their tour. He was having the best time of his life, half in a daze because he couldn’t believe he was spending nearly every night in bed with Apollo, the rebellious bard of his dreams. 

Apollo and his bandmates were pretty much just assholes, the fame had really gone to their heads and they would get away with doing pretty much whatever they wanted. Eddie being naive and being in his own happy world never noticed Apollo sneaking off to hook up with other groupies or making fun of Eddie behind his back. Half the time the band was high on a drug known as Sharp Sugar that’s often used to enhance your senses (AKA gives you an advantage on all ability checks) however the come down can be brutal on the body and makes the substance highly addictive. Some of the shine for his relationship with Apollo started to wear off after having some very scary encounters with a drug deprived Apollo. 

Even though Apollo was a dick a lot of the time, there are also some moments where he could be incredibly sweet, and parts where he would share stories of his own life with Eddie and the sincerity of it made Eddie fall deeper and deeper into devotion. 

On the night that Killer Korpse finished their last show for the spring break in Auriga and just before they were about to travel to the capital city to tour again, there was a big party to celebrate. While Apollo was surrounded by his drunk and very high friends, Eddie approached him with all his courage and told him that he had decided he wasn’t going back to his family and he was going to run away with the band so that they could be together. 

Apollo stood there looking at him seriously for a moment before he started to laugh. He was howling with laughter, clutching onto his friends, his eyes snapped back up to Eddie saying “You can't be serious, look this whole thing was fun while it lasted but everyones heard about the black sheep of the Ravenwood’s now and I'm bored of this. Its over Eddie” 

Absolutely humiliated in front of Apollo’s entire backstage entourage, in a daze Eddie ran away as fast as he could and he slowly made his way home to very angry parents.

HANSEN’S & HUDIC 

By the time Eddie returned to Vela the word had gotten out that the bastard son of the Ravenwood’s was sleeping around with a famous bard. 

In order to quickly shut this rumour down and to get Eddie out of the spotlight, his parents paid to send him to Hansen’s school of the Arcane, under the assumption that he would be watched over by his brother Ambrose (much to his dismay), who is currently working there as a professor. They were hoping that with the correct teaching, Eddie might be able to hone some kind of magical ability. 

There are two ways you can get into the academy, you can either take an extremely difficult exam and practical test, or if you have enough money you can pay your way in. Luckily for Edmund’s family, money is not an issue. 

Not being able to use magic while surrounded by a school for talented magic users is not fun. Especially when everyone knows that you didn’t earn your place and your parents paid for you to be there. And it sucks even more if you don’t actually want to be there in the first place but for Eddie he thought that this would be a wonderful opportunity to stir up some shit. 

Edmund was stuck sharing a dorm room with a human boy called Ozwald. Oz wasn’t too bad, he was one of the only people who didn’t actually look down on Eddie because of his family or lack of magical ability. He was also very patient for putting up with all the trouble Eddie was seeming to find himself in. 

It was in his numerous detentions that Eddie met his new band of friends. A feisty fire Genasi sorcerer called Flint who had a habit of setting things on fire when he lost his temper. Miriam Makovski, a human wizard who just wanted to hit things with a sword and not use magic like her wizard family insisted. Rowan Buckley, a sweet Firbolg druid who was only in detention because the teacher had forgotten he was still in the classroom organising the books. And last but not least his right hand man and partner in crime Theron Finchley, A Halfling wild magic sorcerer who enjoyed stirring up shit just as much as Eddie did. The group managed to get up to all sorts of mischief, smuggling in drugs and alcohol with the help of Hex, pranking teachers, and messing with the uptight students. 

Heres a drawing I did of Rowan because I love him and I would die for him. 

Once Edmund was starting to finish off his second year the Academy, his lack of magical ability was starting to get to him, especially seeing the shining talent in his friends, even if they didn’t really care about their own magic much at all. Doing some research for the first time in his life, Edmund went down the path of researching powerful beings that could give power to those who seek it. Thinking that perhaps this could be his opportunity to have the magic that he was so jealous of. Sneaking into the restricted section, Edmund came across a book describing a resurrection ritual involving an old god of Betrayal known as Hudic. 

Gathering the supplies for the ritual was tough, some of the ingredients being very hard to get ahold of (including bones of an innocent person and other strange items) and over the next few months,  Edmund worked on drawing up the summoning sigil under the rug in his shared dorm room, hiding it whenever ozwald returned from his studies. 

On one cold evening, as soon as Ozwald left to study in the library, Edmund began the ritual, pouring his own blood into the center of the sigil and chanting the words from the book. As the shadows started to collect around his feet and a grotesque figure began to pull himself from the inscriptions on the ground, it was then that Ozwald walked back into the dorm room having forgotten something. 

At that point everything went wrong, the demon grabbed Ozwald and dragged him back into the shadows with him, blood covering the floor, and the screams of both Oz and Eddie echoing throughout the halls. There was a huge scene students began to run out of bed, Professors running into the dorm room to stop students looking in. And before anyone could grab him, Eddie used the rest of his strength to climb out of the window. And for the second time in his life, Eddie ran away. 

THE WINTER PRINCE

With nothing but the clothes on his back, Eddie blindly walked south. Since the academy was in the southernmost part of Vela, it wasn’t long before he started nearing the border for the state known as Crusis, a cold and unforgiving territory bordered by an endless winter wasteland. Eddie, snuck through the border patrols by pretending to be one of the hundreds of refugees making their way south, all displaced from the war with the fire giants raging across the South East of Lunaris. 

Huddling for warmth in barns and gathering scraps of food where he could, he overheard a group of travellers discussing a hidden library out in the winter wastelands. He had nothing else to live for? Perhaps a magic library would have the solution to his problems. So with what little supplies he could gather, he set out in search of a Library, in hopes that he could find another book that could help him reverse what he had done. 

The wastelands are absolutely brutal, many experienced travellers die out in the cold, so for Edmund he was barely hanging in there. At one point he even had a run in with a polar bear and fought to avoid a handful of white dragon wyrmlings. He wandered the endless snow fields until his legs gave out, and the snow was too strong. 

Edmund lay in the snow, looking up at the greying sky, frostbite already starting to nip at the exposed skin on his face. It was in this lucid state of consciousness that he barely registered a figure standing over him, he could have sworn that he was being lifted, and the last thing he remembered was strong arms carrying him before he passed out. 

It was the press of something to his lips that woke him up. Delirious, naked and covered in blankets of fur, Eddie gazed up at the face of the most ethereal looking man he had ever seen. Long white hair, pale skin, long elven ears and ice seeming to glitter across his features. At his lips, the man was forcefully pushing berries and fruits into his mouth, looking annoyed and telling him to eat or he would die. 

After a few days, when Edmund was mostly recovered, he took note that he had been brought to some kind of palace seemingly sculpted of ice and stone. The man introduced himself simply as The Winter Prince. He explained that he had been banished from his home in the Winter Court of the Feywild and confined to the mortal realm and specifically this small area of wasteland in Crusis. Ignoring any of Edmund’s questions about why he was banished, The Winter Prince proposed a deal to him. 

“I’m trapped here in my castle, I can’t go anywhere or in fact do anything, so if you are able go out and look for someway to release me from this banishment, in return I will grant you access to my power, but you’ll also have to lend me your eyes and your body on occasion.” 

By accepting the deal The Winter Prince would be able to look through his eyes and take control of Eddie’s body when he sees fit. (As a player I have to roll a wisdom save and if I fail then my DM takes control of Eddie’s actions as the Winter Prince. In the beginning of the campaign the other players had no idea what was happening, and no idea who my patron was at all. This has already lead to some AMAZING in game interactions) 

With promise of magic and nothing else left to lose, Eddie agreed and The Winter Prince stepped forward and sealed the contract with a kiss on the forehead. After spending the next few hours running around in the snow, throwing Eldritch blasts into the sky and wooping for joy the two of them prepared for Eddie’s journey back into civilisation. 

In the throne room lined by a large mirror made of glass, Eddie was shocked to see a vision of his reflection standing motionlessly, behind the prince’s throne. The prince explained that it was another added sign of their contract (Eddie now does not have a reflection and doesn’t show up in mirrors) 

The Winter Prince is always very graceful and elegant in his movements and he usually speaks with a relaxed tone, like many of the fey he is cold and cruel but has somewhat of a mischievous edge. Eddie was reminded of the cruel twist of his personality with how The Winter Prince reminded him that the only reason he was chosen was because all the other people that he had found in the snow were already long dead. 

With a new mission in mind, a resistance to the cold and new power running through his veins, Edmund set out to the capital city of Naos to earn some money and start looking for ways to release The Winter Prince’s banishment. And of course he wouldn’t throw away the opportunity to test out his new found magical abilities along the way, perhaps he would even try to unravel some of the mysteries behind his patron’s cold heart. 

Thank you so much for reading! If you have any questions please let me know because I’d be more than happy to answer! 

[valiantgentle]

HOUSE OF TALK. an ashley adams one-shot. c. touch of fear, multiple chapters.

─ jerome talks about ashley with different people, including his father, poppy, and eddie.

           ( — chapters three and four. )

           Barely three days into the new term and already Jerome was being blackmailed by his devil incarnate little sister. There was a reason why he didn’t want anyone to know she existed and now she was blackmailing him in order to keep her existence a secret (from everyone except Ashley, apparently, who met her by accident and was now keeping the secret as well).

           “I said six.”

           “That’s all they had in the shop,” Jerome retorted, gesturing to the five chocolate bars he’d just given Poppy—one of her requirements for keeping the secret. “Why do you need so many?”

           “To make friends and influence people,” Poppy replied, just like a Clarke. “This stuff is like currency on the inside.”

           “This isn’t Alcatraz.”

           “Oh, and I want half your allowance,” Poppy added. This was one of those times Jerome regretted teaching her his tricks. He looked at her incredulously and she continued, “Unless you want me to blow the whistle. Remember that I’m not the only secret I’m keeping for you, Gerbil.”

           That other secret? Not exactly a secret at all. Poppy was also blackmailing him about his feelings for Ashley, which she figured out over the holiday when she stole his phone. But what Poppy didn’t know was that her telling Ashley wouldn’t do anything, considering the blonde had already been told several times by everyone in Anubis House and she still wasn’t even close to believing it, and given what Ashley knew about Poppy thus far (that she’s basically a younger and female Jerome), she wouldn’t believe it coming from her either. Probably. Hopefully.

           It was the whole ‘Jerome’s-got-a-sister’ thing he didn’t really want to get out. “Okay,” he agreed to her terms. “Okay.”

           “Okay. Pleasure doing business with you, Clarke,” Poppy said, pushing him before leaving.

           Yeah, definitely the devil incarnate.

           Except he trained this girl himself, knew all her tricks because they were his. He’d probably be able to be two steps ahead of her. And he was getting really tired of paying her off, especially when she’s now demanding half of his allowance—not likely. So the next time they met up, he barely gave her a fourth of his allowance.

           “What’s this?” Poppy questioned. “You may as well give me actual peanuts.”

           “Take it or leave it,” Jerome replied.

           “We agreed. Half your allowance.”

           “No, you agreed. I did not.”

           Poppy looked like she’d just accepted a challenge. “Hardball it is, then. Prepare to lose.”

           “I refuse to be blackmailed by you anymore,” Jerome said. “Do your worst.”

           “Fighting talk,” Poppy remarked. “You’ve got sass, Clarke. I like that. I think I’ll start with Ashley,” this brought on by Ashley’s figure passing by the room they were in, eyes on her phone with no notice of the two siblings, “tell her how much you love her.”

           “You can try,” he said, shaking his head and blatantly challenging her now, “she’ll never believe you. Everyone else’s been telling her that for almost three years, she’s not gonna start believing it now.”

           “Oh, I’m sure she’ll think differently coming from your little sister.”

           “You forget that she already knows one Clarke.”

           “Pretty well judging by all those photos you’ve got of her on your phone. See you later, loser.”

           Poppy left before he could get a retort in. She was off to do exactly what he said, her worst, and though by the end of the day his housemates knew he had a sister and had seen several embarrassing childhood photos of him, it turned out that Poppy actually did not speak to Ashley. At least that was a win—Jerome was bluffing when he said Ashley wouldn’t believe her. If it was coming from his sister, despite all the tricks, she might actually start to believe it.

             ( — chapters twenty-three through twenty-five. )

           “Mr. Sweet stopped Ash and I from starting a food fight,” Alfie remarked as he came up to Jerome.

           The masked ball was in full-swing and Jerome was enjoying it majorly until Mara made him give Joy and Nina their money back after selling them the exact same dress. The metal band mix-up was also fun, until they started playing classical rock music. Now he was just people-watching—well, more like Ashley-watching. She was talking to Mara about something when Alfie came up and started saying stuff about a food fight. That definitely would’ve made the night more fun.

           “Shame he did,” Jerome replied. “This party’s getting boring.”

           “Yeah. Do you always have to stare at her like that?”

           “What?”

           “Ashley. Why don’t you just go over and ask her to dance?”

           Jerome looked back at Ashley; she was speaking with Amber and Patricia now. But something just a bit more interesting, in terms of things he could use to his advantage somehow, caught his eye, because Patricia was smiling this way, right at one Eddie Miller—who was smiling back at her. Alfie noticed it, too.

           “Does someone have a little bitty crush?” Jerome remarked nonchalantly. “You have been hanging around her rather a lot lately.”

           Eddie scoffed and corrected, “Her hanging around with me, Jerry. Her hanging around with me.”

           “No way,” Alfie countered. “She hates you, man. I’m willing to bet there’s no way you could get militia Patricia to dance with you.”

           This could be interesting. Jerome looked at Eddie with an expectant smile and Eddie said, “What, are we in kindergarten now?” A little more encouraging should probably work. Jerome and Alfie shrugged and fist-bumped and Eddie added, “Okay, okay. You’re asking for it. What are the term?”

           “If you win,” Alfie started, “Jerome will sing ‘She’ll Be Coming ‘Round the Mountain’ on stage, in the style of a rap artist.”

           That was most certainly not what Jerome was expecting to hear. “What?”

           “But if you lose, you have to give Jerome the rest of your money for the month.”

           That’s more like it. “Yeah, that works,” Jerome agreed. Besides, there was gonna be absolutely no way Eddie would actually get Trixie to dance with him. He wouldn’t have to sing ‘She’ll Be Coming ‘Round the Mountain’ on stage in the style of a rap artist (and what exactly possessed Alfie to come up with that, of all things?)

           “Deal,” Eddie said. “What am I gonna spend it on around here anyway?”

           Eddie and Jerome shook on it; the bet was on. Now all left to do was watch, except it was just Ashley and Amber by the curtain now, and then Fabian went over to talk to them. Patricia was at the refreshments.

           Eddie put his mask on his face and went over to Patricia, and Jerome and Alfie watched amused as he tried and failed to get Patricia to dance. And then, against all odds, she set her mask down and let him take her onto the dance floor. He actually got her to dance with him, and when he spun them around so that Eddie was facing the direction Jerome and Alfie were watching from, he gave them a smug look.

           “Hope you know the words to ‘She’ll Be Coming ‘Round the Mountain,” Alfie remarked as Jerome mouthed several things he couldn’t say out loud to Eddie, who winked at them.  This wasn’t gonna be fun. “Ashley’s gonna have so much fun with it when she sees it.”

           Jerome slowly turned to Alfie, narrowing his eyes and clenching his jaw. Not only did he now apparently have to go rap a folk song on stage, in front of everyone, at some point during the night, but Ashley was going to see it as well. She’s never gonna let him live it down.

           “Oh, by the way, she wants you to ask her to dance,” Alfie added casually.

           “Yeah,” Jerome retorted dryly as he glanced back to where Ashley and Amber had been standing, only to find that neither blonde was there anymore. “‘Cause I’m going to believe that after what just happened.”

           “No, seriously, she does,” he insisted. “She said she was bored and wanted you to ask her to dance. It was right before Fabian’s speech, it’s how we almost started that food fight. So, go find her and ask her to dance. Especially since you apparently turned her down when she asked you to save her a dance. Seriously, why would you do that?”

           “For the record, she took back that offer when she saw me in the stupid mummy costume.”

           “Well, the offer’s back on. So go, ask her to dance before you start rapping.”

           Jerome turned to him. “Tell me, do you see her anywhere? Or Amber or Nina or Fabian?”

           Alfie looked around the room, shrugging. “No.”

           “Exactly. She’s disappeared. Probably off playing hopscotch or whatever those four are up to.”

           --

           Ashley had indeed disappeared somewhere, which meant she wasn’t actually going to be there to watch Jerome completely murder ‘She’ll Be Coming ‘Round the Mountain.’ Fortunately for her, and unfortunately for Jerome, there was this little device called a camera phone and Alfie’s phone just happened to record videos.

           As Jerome reluctantly stepped up to the mic on the stage, Alfie started filming.

           “What’re you doing?” Joy questioned.

           “Making a video of what’s about to happen for Ash,” Alfie replied as Jerome gestured for the music to cut out. “She’s going to be so mad she missed this!”

           Thus, the world’s worst rendition of a folk song began. And it was, as promised, as ridiculous and embarrassing as it sounded like it would be. Alfie happily ended the video when he finished the song and immediately sent it to Ashley’s phone with the all-caps caption ‘JEROME RAPPED SHE’LL BE COMING ROUND THE MOUNTAIN ENJOY!’

           Meanwhile across the room, Mara and Poppy had just discovered that the letter Poppy had snuck onto a tray of drinks that ended up in Trudy’s hands while Jerome was interrogating them about what was going on with them was no longer on the tray at all.

           “There!” Mara exclaimed, pointing at the letter on the floor, but as they went toward it, someone’s foot knocked into it and sent it sliding all the way toward the stage. But before she could get it, Jerome jumped off the stage and unknowingly set his foot on it.

           He figured out something was there when both sets of eyes glanced at his feet. He moved his foot and grabbed the envelope, unfolding it. It was addressed to both Poppy and Jerome Clarke, at Anubis House, and turning it over, there was a sticker on the back that sealed the letter from Huntswood Prison.

           Jerome looked up from the envelope to Poppy, who looked careful but not regretful about what she’d done. Then he looked at Mara, who was standing right beside her. “You went behind my back. I would expect this from her, but you? Did Ashley know, too?”

           “No, she didn’t, I swear—” Mara started.

           “And why should I believe you? I saw you talking tonight. Was it about this?”

           “No! I’m sorry, Jerome—”

           “Spare me!” he retorted, brushing past them.

           Mara grabbed Poppy’s arm as she went to follow. “I think we should wait this one out.”

           --

           Jerome returned to Anubis House, far before the masked ball ended, with the letter in hand and mind only on what could be in it. Poppy wrote a letter to their dad, a man who was literally in prison for God knows what. But he tore the letter open, and he read it, and then he reread it a dozen times, because his dad wanted them to visit.

           When morning came, he’d slept on it, and still didn’t know what to do. But it wasn’t just Poppy who had kept this from him. Mara helped her do it, and maybe Ashley helped her, too. Ashley was the only other person besides Mara who knew that his dad was in prison, and he wouldn’t have expected it from her, either. Maybe last year, just to spite him, but this year? It didn’t seem like her, but it didn’t change the fact that she was close with both Poppy and Mara, especially on the subject of his dad.

           For what it was worth, Ashley didn’t seem too off at breakfast. He didn’t look at her through most of it, which might’ve definitely been unusual, but the few times he did look at her, she looked genuinely confused as to why he was acting like he was. And Mara seemed to have noticed that, because before they left for school, Jerome went back to his room to grab his bag and she knocked on the door and opened it without waiting for a response.

           “She really didn’t know,” Mara repeated what she’d said last night. “We didn’t tell her.”

           “She was the only other person who knew—”

           “The only thing she knows is that there was a delivery for you and Poppy,” Mara interrupted. “That’s only because she was there when it arrived. She asked me what it was last night and I told her that she couldn’t tell you and she stopped me from telling her because she was sure it was something to do with your dad and she didn’t think she could lie to you about it. That’s what she and I were talking about last night.”

           Jerome paused, thinking it over. He put his bag over his shoulder and turned around to face her. “You really didn’t tell her?” he asked cautiously.

           Mara shook her head. “No. Poppy didn’t want to. Ashley has no idea about the letter. Jerome, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to interfere. It just meant so much to Poppy.”

           The letter was sitting on his nightstand. He glanced at it, grabbing it and holding it up. “He wants me to go and visit him.”

           “Is that bad?”

           “No. How could meeting my estranged father in prison be bad? Yeah, I’d say it’s not good.”

           “But—”

           “I need to think about it,” Jerome interrupted, locking the letter in the nightstand. “Maybe. I don’t know. In the meantime, I’d appreciate you not telling any of that to Poppy. I mean it, Mara. You owe me that much.”

           Mara looked at him for a few seconds before nodding. “Will you talk to Ashley about this? She’ll tell you the truth. You can still trust her.”

           “Yeah. I’ll talk to her.”

             ( — chapters twenty-nine and thirty. )

           When his dad said that he wanted him to visit alone next time to tell him something in private, Jerome had no idea what to think of it. He knew that Ashley said it sounded mysterious but she was one of those people who looked for a mystery in everything, which after what happened last term made sense for her. Sort of. But he had stopped speculating and returned this afternoon to the prison—only to find that Poppy was already there, sitting across from their dad.

           Aside from the fact that her being there meant that he wouldn’t find out whatever it was their dad wanted to tell him, Poppy’s presence meant that she read the letter and given that smug smile on her face, she wanted Jerome to know it. So after that and figuring out how she got there, and after their dad stopped them from swatting at each other (and said that was the first time in a long time he’s felt like a real dad, which had them laughing lightly), Poppy had just come back with some sweets from the machine (which gave Jerome’s dad a chance to say that whatever he wanted to discuss would have to wait and he’d have to come alone next time).

           And it was just after that that one blonde Australian came up in conversation.

           “Poppy was telling me about your girlfriend, Jerome,” said John. “She sounds like quite a girl.”

           Even Poppy looked confused. Jerome just asked, “My girlfriend?”

           “Ashley.”

           Poppy seemed to realize what exactly had happened and awkwardly scratched behind her ear before lowering her hand. Jerome turned to her, narrowing his eyes before questioning, “What did you say to him?”

           “Just the truth!” Poppy defended.

           “Oh, yes, she told me all about how Ashley’s been helping her and you with finding me,” John continued, with apparently no notice of the way Jerome was glaring at Poppy. “Poppy’s very fond of her. You should bring her sometime, Jerome. I’d love to meet her.”

           “That’s not happening,” Jerome replied. Aside from the fact that he was most certainly not dating her, he also knew her well enough to know that she wouldn’t want to come. “Ashley’s not my girlfriend.”

           Now John looked confused. “But Poppy said you were in love.”

           Poppy cleared her throat and shook her head. “No, I said that Jerome’s in love with her but refuses to tell her, even though it’s so obvious that her boyfriend even told her—”

           “She has a boyfriend?”

           “No, they broke up,” Jerome answered before turning back to Poppy. “And how did you even know about that?”

           “Everyone heard about it,” Poppy said. “I was in the next hall over and heard it myself. People were looking at me all weird because they know I’m your sister. And anyway, I thought it was really strange how he brought you up when he’s the one that cheated on her—”

           “Do you mind not telling him all of Ashley’s business?”

           “Wait a moment, I’m confused,” John cut in. Both of his children turned back to look at him. “So, this Ashley isn’t your girlfriend? But you love her? Does she love you back?” Jerome said no, Poppy said yes, and Jerome glared at her again. “Well, which is it, yes or no?”

           “No,” Jerome answered definitively. “No, she doesn’t.”

           “Yes, she does,” Poppy argued.

           “Poppy—”

           “Come on, Jerome. The entire school knows it. Why do you think there’s a bet on when you two will get over yourselves and get together?”

           A bet? That was news to him. Jerome turned to his sister again, questioning, “Bet? What are you talking about, a bet?”

           “The bet,” Poppy said again. “I don’t know who started it but it’s spread across the whole school. People have even come to me asking for the inside scoop so they get their money. So, when do you think you’ll tell her you love her? This year or next year?”

           “Which did you bet on?”

           “No way I’m telling you! You’ll just make it so whichever I didn’t bet on happens.”

           Jerome rolled his eyes. John looked between them, now utterly confused as to what was happening, and said, “Wait. Give me a minute to get this straight. So…Ashley isn’t your girlfriend, but you do like her. And she recently broke up with her boyfriend who cheated on her. And there’s a schoolwide bet on when you two will get together, and everyone but you thinks she likes you. Is that right?”

           Poppy nodded. Jerome glared at her again.

           You know, her telling their dad about Ashley was one thing. Her telling him that Jerome’s in love with her, therefore leading their dad to think that Jerome and Ashley are dating, was another, and something told Jerome that when Ashley herself found out, she wouldn’t be too happy. But on the other hand, the fact that his dad heard as much as he did about them and made the leap to them dating was kind of…it kind of felt nice, if irritating.

           But now he finds out that there’s some kind of bet on them? He’d bet money that it was Alfie or Amber that started it.

           “You know, there’s even a nickname for them,” Poppy remarked. “Everyone calls them Jashley.”

           Jerome wished he was unfamiliar with the nickname. He’d heard it from Alfie back when he’d first found out Jerome had feelings for the other half of that equation, apparently it had been coined by Amber. And Alfie really enjoyed using it.

           “You know, all this talk of Ashley,” John said, “and no one’s shown me a photo of her yet.”

           “Oh, I can do that,” Poppy said immediately, taking her phone out of her pocket. After a minute, she handed it across to him. “That’s her and Jerome at prom a few months ago. They went together.”

           “She’s very pretty, Jerome,” John noted.

           “Yeah, I know,” Jerome responded before laying his eyes on Poppy again. “Where did you get that photo?”

           “It’s on her profile,” Poppy explained. “She friended me. I thought Dad might ask. She’s got tons of photos on there.”

           And judging by the way John was clicking on the phone, he was looking at some of the other photos Poppy saved. “You and she make a nice couple—”

           “We’re not a couple,” Jerome interrupted again as he reached for Poppy’s phone, giving it back to her. “And you—stop saving photos from her profile.”

           Poppy shrugged and said, “Okay.” She clicked a few times on her phone before passing it across to their dad again. With a smug smile, she continued, “Here’s one she sent to me.”

           Jerome knew which photo it was before his dad had even had a chance to look at it. There was only one photo he knew Ashley had sent to her—the one she’d taken of them at the opening gala for the exhibition, while he was dressed as a mummy. That was confirmed when John laughed at the photo and said, “Why are you dressed like a mummy?”

           “It was a job,” Jerome replied quickly before taking the phone back. “How often do you and Ashley text?”

           His sister shrugged again. “Sometimes.”

           “Okay, that stops now.”

           “Afraid she’s going to tell me something embarrassing about you?”

           “More like worried you two are going to start conspiring against me together.”

           “Get over it, Gerbil.”

           John interjected before they could start swatting each other again, tapping his fingers on the table and pointing toward the phone Poppy was taking back from Jerome. “Well, if this Ashley isn’t your girlfriend,” he said, “she still seems like a very good friend and I’d still like to meet her. You should bring her sometime.”

           Very good friend.

           That’s all Ashley would ever be, and maybe that was his own fault. The second he realized that his feelings for her were more than he expected, he swore to himself that she’d never know. Mostly because at the time he realized it he’d barely known her a month and he’d accidentally started a less-than-friendly rivalry with her. And things seemed to have gone pretty well with that swear until Alfie figured it out and decided to try and set them up for the next year and a half. Though the first time Ashley did hear him say that she reacted with a scoff and theorized that they were planning something, using that to preoccupy her mind so she didn’t figure it out, and she’d sleep with one eye open.

           Though Jerome would admit, reluctantly of course, that there were more than a few times over the past few months that he caught her looking at him differently than she ever had before, and when he caught that, he let himself forget that swear and wonder what things might be like if he told her and, by some miracle, she felt the same about him.

           But she didn’t, and he knew that, and before he could think too much on it he always pulled himself out of it, forced himself to come back to the real world where she was his best friend and he was nothing more than that to her.

           “She’s not coming,” Jerome responded to his dad’s offer after a moment.

           “Jerome, I think you should let the girl,” John said, “make that decision herself—”

           “I know Ashley, she’s not going to want to come,” Jerome said again. Aside from that, he couldn’t quite figure out what exactly she and her roomies plus Fabian had been up to lately, but whatever it was, she was certainly keeping busy with it. There was also the fact that if on the unlikely chance Ashley did want to come, Jerome was relatively certain his dad would try and suss out if she had feelings for him, and that was something probably better left to Alfie and his wild theories. “And I think she’s got too much on her plate without making the trip out here for an hour.”

           “All right, but I do expect to meet her at some point.”

             ( — chapter fifty-seven. )

           “Eddie, do you have the crib notes for French?”

           Eddie responded with a distant yeah, handing him a plastic-wrapped sandwich from his locker like it was the notes he’d asked for without even glancing Jerome’s way. It was definitely odd, even for Eddie. Seemed like he’s not entirely focused on schoolwork (if he ever was), but this begged for more questions.

           Jerome looked from the sandwich to Eddie, adding, “Something on your mind?” Eddie closed his locker and scoffed. “Oh, come on. I’m not all bad. Try me.”

           He tilted his head at him, and Eddie admitted, “Uh, well, me and Patricia went on this date the other night—”

           “And it was a romantic disaster,” Jerome finished with a laugh, the only plausible ending to that sentence. “Yeah. That’s a surprise.”

           “No, the date was fine,” he corrected. “It’s just after, we didn’t—we didn’t kiss.”

           “Oh,” Jerome said, drawing it out a little. Patricia Williamson—militia Patricia—going on a date with American Eddie Miller was interesting enough on its own. “But I thought you were one of those supercool, uber-confident, piece-of-cake kind of guys.”

           “Uh, thanks,” Eddie replied sarcastically, “but uh…no. It’s—I don’t know. Patricia’s…” Right at that moment, Patricia and Ashley passed by them, the latter talking to her about movies or something. Eddie turned around to look at the subject of the conversation while Jerome watched curiously. There was something to be said about the fact that the girl Eddie liked and the girl Jerome liked were currently down the hall conversing while one of them was the thing they were talking about. “Different. I’ve never felt like this before.”

           Jerome would be lying if he said he couldn’t relate to what he was saying. Ashley was different too, definitely not in the same way, but she was different. A challenge with fire in her eyes and a never-ending storm in her head.

           He regarded her for a moment until she glanced his way, at which point he turned back to Eddie and said, getting back on the Trixie line of thought, “Okay. Then here is what you do, my American friend.” Eddie crossed his arms. “Right, the next time you’re with her, you’re going to plant a big, fat smackeroo right on those luscious lips on hers.”

           Eddie glanced back at Patricia, who was now opening a bag of crisps and offering some to Ashley. Ashley must’ve declined it because Patricia shrugged and put a handful in her mouth. “Think so?”

           “Yeah, everything except luscious.”

           “Huh,” Eddie murmured. “All right, yeah. Pretty good advice, Jerry.” Jerome rolled his eyes at the nickname; Eddie refused to give it up and called him that more than his actual name. But it got under his skin, which is probably what Eddie was aiming for with it. “Should probably take it yourself.”

           “What?”

           “Ashley,” Eddie elaborated, turning back to where both girls were standing. They were going down another hallway now, still talking. Jerome narrowed his eyes. “Yeah, dude, it’s insanely obvious that you like her. I’m pretty sure the only person who doesn’t know is her.”

           “Surprised it took you this long to jump on the bandwagon,” Jerome retorted, neither confirming nor denying. He’d meant to tell her exactly that two days ago, after babysitting Alfie’s surprise little brother, but she’d left before he could, which he briefly considered a good thing because he had no idea what he was going to say to her nor any idea how she’d react. “Those rumors seemed right up your alley to use to your advantage.”

           “Ha, yeah. Actually Joy said if I want to be an official Anubis resident I’ve got to at least pretend to care about you and her being so obviously into each other. Didn’t really see why everyone cared so much ‘til just now.”

           “You’d probably do well not listening to Joy about it anymore.”

           “Yeah, don’t think so. Seriously, dude, just take your own advice,” Eddie said, clapping his hand on Jerome’s shoulder before walking away—the exact opposite direction of both Patricia and French.

           “Where are you going?” Jerome questioned. “French is that way.”

           “Oh, I’ve been to class all morning. It’s Eddie time. See if Ashley’s got those notes you’re looking for,” Eddie said, smugly grinning at him before disappearing around the corner.

           Jerome shook his head, rolling his eyes. See if Ashley’s got those notes—Ashley never has notes for French. And if she does, she probably burns them once she’s finished with them considering how much she hates that class.

             ( — chapters sixty-six and sixty-seven. )

           It was raining.

           And Jerome was hidden behind some tires, his bike near him, waiting for a car to pull up so he could know if Trudy, who had been recently kidnapped, was safe. Jasper was waiting by his own car, a doll that once belonged to Sarah Frobisher-Smythe in hand, with no idea Jerome had followed him out here.

           A car pulled up, and a familiar woman stepped out from the passenger side. “Vera,” he murmured at the sight of her. There was always something off about her and obviously everything Mara had written in her article had been accurate, and somehow Vera made herself seem like the innocent party in the eyes of everyone who didn’t know Mara. “I knew it.” Another figure stepped out of the car, his face hidden beneath the hood he was wearing. “Wait. What?”

           “I don’t see a dollhouse,” said the other figure’s disguised voice. The Anubis dollhouse was initially what Jasper had promised after Jerome caught it lighting up and smoking on its own in Ashley, Amber, and Nina’s room upstairs, but it was too big to get out unnoticed immediately. The doll was the next best thing, creepy riddle and all. “Are you incapable of completing one simple task?”

           “I need an assurance from you that Trudy is unharmed,” Jasper said.

           “She is safe, for now. Where is the dollhouse?”

           “It’s coming, but it takes time. Meanwhile, I’ve brought this.”

           Jasper took the doll out of the bag he had with him. Vera asked, “Where did you get that?”

           “It belonged to Sarah Frobisher-Smythe. And it plays a message. Listen.”

           Before Jasper could play the cryptic riddle the doll hid, the Collector grew angry, grabbing his arm roughly. “I don’t need a doll.” He tossed the doll into the mud and grabbed the front of Jasper’s shirt. “I need a dollhouse!”

           Jerome had stood to get a better view, see if he could see the face beneath the hood, but his foot hit a chain and he was ducking to hide again before he was seen. If Vera found him, there wasn’t any doubt he’d end up kidnapped just as Trudy was, and he really didn’t like the idea of that.

           “What was that?” Vera questioned. “Have you brought someone with you?”

           “You better not have,” said the disguised voice.

           Jerome looked out just enough to see that Vera was coming his way with a torch in her hand, preparing to search the area where the sound was, and the closer she came, the more likely he’d be found. Even hiding the best he could wouldn’t get past her, but he was hoping for the best. Another distraction maybe…

           “We don’t have time for this,” the disguised voice said. Vera stepped away from the tires and went back to him and Jasper. “You have twenty-four hours. After that, Trudy will pay the price. And so will you…” The man turned his head the direction of Vera. “And so will Ashley Adams.”

           “You’ll have her, very soon,” promised Vera.

           “Twenty-four hours!” the voice shouted to Jasper again as he turned.

           “Ashley…” Her name was hardly more than a whisper from Jerome, more from his shock hearing it from a disguised voice than his still hiding. Hearing her name from that voice was like getting punched in the gut, and what Vera followed it up with? That felt like being crushed by the tires he was hiding behind. “No. Not her.”

           --

           Vera knew. Vera knew who Ashley Adams really was. That was the only thing Jerome could get from what she said. Jasper said that The Collector wants anything and everything that belonged to the Frobisher-Smythes. Maybe that even included the one person living who was related to them, even if it wasn’t by blood. Lily Henry had been adopted by them, hadn’t she? He remembered her telling him something like that.

           Jasper left in his car with the doll, with still no idea Jerome had heard all of that. Jerome got on his bike and returned to Anubis House, mind racing the entire night, and yet it was a pair of piercing blue eyes that looked at him all sorts of different ways that kept coming back. The next day, he went back to Frobisher Library, ready to get some answers about what happened last night.

           “Truth time,” Jerome started. Jasper was repairing a mosaic and stopped when he heard his voice. “I know Vera’s involved.”

           “Jerome, what are you—” Jasper said.

           “No more lies,” he interrupted. “I was there. I know she’s involved.”

           Jasper looked back at the mosaic he was working on, some green tacky thing that used to be in Anubis House, before confessing, “Yes, Vera is involved.” At least now he’s telling the truth about one thing. He put the mosaic in the drawer of his desk. “But she’s not the Collector.”

           “Do you know who he is?”

           “No,” Jasper denied. “And there’s nothing I can do about Vera. Not while the Collector’s got Trudy. We need that dollhouse. I’m afraid that if we don’t get it—”

           “You’ll have it,” Jerome said. “Which brings me to my next point. The dollhouse is in Ashley’s room. Ashley Adams. When was the last time you heard that name, Jasper?” The curator’s mouth parted. “That’s what I thought. What does he want with Ashley?”

           “I’ve been trying to figure that out myself.”

           “No more lies.”

           “It’s not a lie, Jerome. I never heard Ashley’s name from neither Vera nor the Collector.”

           “Then what have you heard? What have they said? They had to have said something!”

           Jasper quieted him. Jerome ran a hand over his face, trying to calm himself down, before looking back at him expectantly. After a few seconds of thinking on it, Jasper said, “Well…the Collector wants anything and everything Frobisher. She does live in Anubis House—”

           “So do nine other people, but I only heard her name.”

           “Perhaps he thinks she has a stronger connection to the Frobisher-Smythes than anyone else in that house. Although I don’t understand why he or Vera would think that. She’s Australian, and there’s no Frobisher-Smythe connection to that country.”

           A connection to the Frobisher-Smythes. Always comes back to Robert, doesn’t it? Jerome sighed. “Have you ever heard of Michael and Elizabeth Henry?”

           Jasper nodded. “Of course. They were on the expedition to open Tutankhamun’s tomb in 1922 with Robert and Louisa. Very close friends of the Frobisher-Smythes, though they both went to prison after being convicted of stealing from the tomb. No one ever found what it was they stole, nor what the Frobisher-Smythes were suspected of stealing. What have they got to do with anything?”

           “They had a daughter called Lily who was adopted by the Frobisher-Smythes after they went to prison. Lily Henry is Ashley’s great-grandmother.”

           “I see.”

           “That has to be why this guy wants her, right? And Vera said that he’ll have her—”

           But Jasper interjected, shaking his head as something like remembrance appeared in his eyes, “No. No, I’ve heard Vera say something like that before. She didn’t think I was there, she was on the phone with him. She said that he’ll have the…the Bringer of Death.”

           It was like someone had heard Jerome thinking to himself over and over ‘this couldn’t be any worse’ and said no, let’s make it worse. Jasper was about to figure out what Vera and the Collector must’ve already known.

           “She was talking about Ashley Adams, wasn’t she?” Jasper said. Jerome stayed silent, watching the pieces fall into place in his head. “Of course. Ashley Adams is the Bringer of Death. Michael and Elizabeth’s granddaughter—of course!”

           “What do you know about the Bringer of Death?” Jerome asked cautiously. Every time he said it, the title sounded even more ridiculous and he got flashbacks to that one scene in The Mummy, which wasn’t doing anything to help his nerves at the moment.

           “Well, not much, she’s merely a legend, or—or I thought she was,” Jasper explained. “There have been dozens of women throughout history who have been rumored to be it. But there’s never been any proof she actually existed, just rumors and theories. I thought she was a myth.”

           “Well, she’s not.”

           “You knew who she was. Well, that—that makes sense, I do know that you’re close with her. But so is Fabian,” Jasper said, speaking now of his godson. “Does—does he know about her as well?”

           “Fabian’s the one who figured it out,” Jerome reluctantly confirmed.

           “It’s really Ashley Adams? She’s not who I would have expected.”

           “Jasper, focus. Is Vera going to try and kidnap Ashley like they have Trudy?”

           Jasper let out a heavy sigh. “She might. Unless we bring the dollhouse to them first,” he said. Right. Back to the dollhouse. “He’ll let Trudy go and he might back off Ashley if we bring it to him. Jerome. Do you want to keep Ashley safe?”

           The question had a simple answer. “More than anything.”

           “Then we need that dollhouse.”

             ( — chapter seventy-four. )

           It had been two days since Jerome went to Ashley’s room and confessed that he had romantic feelings for her to her face. He still wasn’t sure why he chose that night to tell her—maybe it had something to do with them being locked in that barn, or to do with the fact that Rufus and Vera were plotting to kidnap her—but he told her, expecting nothing of it. Well, he sort of expected for her to tell him to get out. That was it.

           The one thing he didn’t expect, and the only reaction he didn’t prepare for, was for her to tell him she felt the same way. And that was exactly what happened, and after that he tried out the eyelash trick, which she immediately called him on before kissing him. Which basically means the eyelash trick worked. And honestly, if Amber hadn’t walked in and started freaking out about it, he probably would’ve stayed with Ashley until Victor called curfew.

           But now their relationship had changed—right there between friends and more. He hadn’t had a chance to speak to her the day after they first kissed because she was by Nina’s side all day after that article posted on the Jack Jackal column, but he’d had a chance to talk to her today and more when he pulled her into that classroom (and accidentally scared her into thinking she was about to be kidnapped, but that part wasn’t relevant.)

           And yeah, Jerome was a little disappointed that Ashley didn’t want to come to the prison with him to tell his dad about the gem, but at least she was up for meeting him sometime. Just not today. Although given that he was afraid his dad may have a less-than-stellar reaction to the gem being stolen again, it was probably a good thing she hadn’t come. He’d invited Mara to come on Ashley’s suggestion, since she’d already met him.

           “The gem was right there in the shield,” Jerome explained hesitantly. “And—and then it was gone. I let you down, Dad. I’m sorry.”

           John didn’t look at all disappointed. “At what point did you let me down? You found the missing gem. Then you retrieved it from inside a goose,” he started to recap the gem’s journey back to the shield in the 21st century. “Then you cat-burgled the housekeeper who stole it.” Technically that one was Fabian and Nina but he wasn’t going to correct that. “Then you won a ping-pong championship to get the shield to put it in.”

           “Pretty much,” Jerome confirmed with a light laugh.

           “You’re a true Clarke,” John said, hitting him lightly on the arm as he laughed. “You couldn’t write it.”

           “Someone should. ‘Saved by the Gem: A Tale of Two Clarkes and a Goose.’”

           “What do you reckon, Mara? Would anybody want to read that?”

           Mara thought on it. “Well, actually, yes. Definitely.”

           Jerome had an idea suddenly, taking his phone out of his pocket. “Oh, hey. I can, however, show you a picture of the gem.” He went through the photos on his phone before finding the ones from after the tournament, handing it across to his dad.

           John took the phone, smiling at it. “Ah, there she is. Beautiful.”

           “I will get it back, of course,” Jerome promised. “I will. I just need to figure out how.”

           “I know,” John said. He turned the phone around on one photo; it was the one Ashley had taken of Jerome and Poppy. “This one—this one may be my favorite.”

           “Oh, Ashley took that one,” Mara recalled. “She took tons of photos of the tournament for the school website. She told me that was one she thought you might like.”

           “Jerome, you really should bring her,” John told him as he turned the phone back around, continuing to click through the photos of the gem. Jerome gave a somewhat awkward smile, not about to tell him that he tried to get her to come today. Then John’s entire face changed as he clicked through to a photograph that was taken that very morning. “Oh. Well, this is certainly another reason why I should meet her. I see my boy’s finally got his act together.”

           “What?” Mara asked, eyebrows furrowed.

           John started to turn the phone around but Jerome caught the photo on the screen and scrambled for the phone before Mara could see it. Amber was still the only person who knew that the relationship had shifted and if Alfie found out Mara knew before him, he’d never hear the end of it. “Ah, no,” Jerome said quickly, clicking the screen off. Mara looked at him confused. “No.”

           “Oh, the ping-pong,” Mara said with a tone of realization. “You should be very proud. Jerome told me Ashley was sort of his good luck char—”

           “Right, well, we better be getting back to the house,” Jerome interrupted with a clearing of his throat as he stood up. He definitely regretted mentioning that to Mara now. “Mara?”

           “Uh, sure,” Mara said, still bewildered. “All right.”

           John grabbed Jerome’s sleeve before he could turn around. He lowered his voice as he asked, “Are you sure you and this Ashley aren’t an item? I’ve just seen a photo that says otherwise.”

           “Dad, it’s a bit complicated,” Jerome started.

           “Then keep it simple, stupid,” John retorted. Jerome would admit he was a little taken aback. “Based on everything you and Poppy and now Mara have told me, she seems like a good match for you. And judging by that photo, she seems to like you. Uncomplicate it. Don’t miss your chance, okay?”

           Don’t miss your chance.

           Her schedule seemed to be busier than ever, but he’d managed to catch her alone a few times. Next time he did, he’d make sure he didn’t miss his chance to be with her. “Okay.”

             ( — chapter ninety. )

           All in all, the day Jerome had just had was one of the more unbelievable ones he’d lived.

           First, he spent half the day in Rufus’ creepy barn, waiting for a chance to escape. Then when he finally got a chance, Rufus found him hiding amongst the hay bales and dragged him back inside—only for him to bring a disoriented Eddie into the room a few minutes later, replacing him in the chair and tossing a blanket over Eddie’s head (but it gave Jerome a chance to put the real gem in Eddie’s pocket so Rufus didn’t have it anymore) and dragging him to the car.

           Then he was roughly shoved into Frobisher Library, forced to go into some dark and dusty tunnel through a secret passage behind a bookcase and down to some chamber by Rufus, saw the (fake, as it turned out) Mask of Anubis, figured out that the gem he’d given to Eddie was the thing that completed said Mask, thrown the (fake) Mask to Alfie, and got out of that strange tunnel with Amber into Frobisher Library.

           And then it turns out that Eddie is some kind of—some kind of Osirian or something? Jerome still wasn’t sure what exactly that meant but Nina and Ashley seemed to know, and Ashley seemed pretty shocked. Then Nina put the third eye in the Mask, put it on her face, the thing began to weep gold tears, and then that ghost Mara and Eddie had captured on film was on the second level and possessed Nina or something, shot some lightning bolt at Joy—and was promptly defeated by Ashley and Eddie working together somehow. At that point he still didn’t understand a thing that was happening. Pretty much the only thing he did understand after that was Rufus putting the real Mask of Anubis on, declaring that he was about to be a god, only for a fiery pit to open up in the floor that he must’ve gone down or something.

           All in all, pretty unbelievable day.

           But fortunately, things began to look up when he returned to Anubis House after trying and failing to get a hold of Poppy to see how the hearing went. Mara berated him for missing it, which was about when Alfie came in holding the real gem which he had left behind in the chaos, and it was just after that he turned around and his sister and his father were standing right behind him. He won the hearing, and now he was free. And now that he had the gem back, he could put it back where it belonged, in Frobisher Shield.

           And things certainly began to look up when Ashley called his name, kissed him in front of everyone, and told him that she loved him. And Jerome had kissed her, and he had told her he loved her, too. He’d figured that out a long time ago and it had been on the tip of his tongue every time he’d seen her since. Finally telling her made him feel like despite everything that had happened that day, and despite whatever happened in the library…things had turned out pretty all right.

           Jerome had danced with her a little bit, talked about their new relationship, and told her again he loved her so many times she was probably getting sick of it. Well, probably not, but it was right after that last one that Ashley stopped dancing with him and instead pulled him over to his dad and Poppy to chat. She was probably trying to fix things considering that she’d met his dad literally one minute after their relationship had become official.

           “So, Jerome told me you’re an artist,” John was saying now.

           Ashley was taking a sip of her punch. “Mm. Yeah, I am.”

           “She’s good at it,” Jerome remarked, smiling adoringly at her.

           “And I know it.”

           The not-so-modest comment had all three Clarkes laughing and Ashley, visibly relieved it had gone over well, brought her cup to her mouth again. John said, “She’s got wit. I like her.” And that one had that look of relief returning to her face. “I don’t mean to sound…but have you got anything you think I could see?”

           “Actually…” Now Ashley looked thoughtful and she nodded. “I might. Stay here.” She handed her cup to Jerome and started toward the door, running into Patricia and Eddie on the way. Eddie held his hands up in a somewhat defensive position as she said bluntly, “Out of my way, Edison.”

           Patricia chuckled and said, loud enough that they could hear from where they are, “Wow, she is really not taking it well.”

           “I know,” Eddie said, a devious smile on his face. “I can’t wait until tomorrow.”

           Jerome had absolutely no clue what either of them meant by what they said, but he put it at the top of the list of things he wanted to ask Ashley about. Also on the list: first actual date, when should she meet his mum, is he really willing to meet her sister again but this time as the boyfriend given what happened the last and only time they met (her sister was not his biggest fan, to put things lightly), things like that.

           Ashley came back down about a minute later, and he recognized her sketchbook in her hands. She was flipping through it as she returned to where she was standing. Among the sketches he saw was one of that photo of Lily and Sarah that was in that box Sarah left her, some landscapes, one of an elderly lady and Nina. “Ah…here.” She stopped at one of the sketches, tearing it out and handing it to John. “You can have this one. I finished it last night, couldn’t sleep.”

           The sketch was of the very same photo that his dad had recently seen of Jerome and Poppy, the one from after the tournament when they put the gem back in the shield (for the first time). Like all her other drawings, this one was good as well. Good wasn’t a strong enough word; it was amazing. “You sketched me and Poppy?” Jerome questioned, a light smitten tone accompanying his words.

           “When you’ve got a photo that good,” Ashley replied, “it’d be a crime not to sketch it.”

           “Wow, Ashley,” Poppy said, beaming. “You’re really good.”

           “You are,” John agreed with a nostalgic smile. “Thank you for this, Ashley. I’m glad I’ve finally a chance to talk to you. And thank you for helping my son get the gem back.”

           “Yeah, you would not believe,” Ashley said, “the vendetta I’ve got against that gem.” Jerome chuckled lightly. He was the only one aware of the true history of the gem before his dad stole it all those years ago. The third eye. “I’m just glad everything’s how it should be.”

           She looked at Jerome as she said that. He smiled at her in a way that could only be described as entirely smitten, and his tone was the same as he said, “I really do love you.” She leaned up and kissed him quickly, a peck more than anything, but it meant everything.

           Behind them, Amber said, “Hey, Ashley. So sorry to interrupt. Hi, Poppy, Mr. Clarke.” Poppy waved at her a little. Amber looked at Ashley again. “I need your help with the cake.”

           Jerome told his family, “That’s code for girl talk.”

           “No, it’s code for Amfie talk,” Ashley corrected with a smirk. Amber tilted her head. “Oh, I have to hear this. I’ll be back in a minute.”

           Amber dragged Ashley into the kitchen with the cake, already gossiping about ‘Amfie’ or whatever they were talking about. Jerome turned back, venturing, “So, uh…what do you think of her?”

           “You better not let that girl go, Jerome,” was John’s immediate response, and definitely the one Jerome was hoping for. Poppy nodded to agree. “She is a real gem.”

           Jerome glanced back at Ashley, catching her eye with a soft smile. “I know.”

[thisisheffner]

Best Music Scenes: Portland, Maine - Rolling Stone

In our new series, we look at eight cities where live music has exploded — from legendary hubs like Chicago and Nashville, to rising hot spots like Tulsa, Oklahoma, and Raleigh, North Carolina. The latest is a left-field surprise: Portland, Maine, which is drawing promoters from major cities and ambitious young songwriters.  

Every November, more than a dozen top musicians from Portland, Maine, take over the local State Theatre for an ambitious trip back in time: They play a Beatles album in full. This year, it was the White Album; bandleader Spencer Albee sang “Martha My Dear,” backed by precise orchestration, and even invited friends and crew to act out “Revolution 9.” “It’s a love fest,” says Albee, a songwriter in the “lazy disco” band Bell Systems who started the event in a bar 17 years ago. This year, they packed the 1,700-capacity theater for three nights and employed almost 40 people. “I can’t tell you how many people have had their first concert experience with us,” Albee says. “We’ve even had people propose at our shows.”

Kenya Hall Photo: John Doyle

Beatles Night is just one example of how seriously Portland takes its music. “I’ve never lived in a city with this much talent,” says Lauren Wayne, general manager of the company that owns the State. “I get friggin’ emotional about it.” That talent ranges from the funk-soul singer Kenya Hall to folk harmonizers the Ghost of Paul Revere and the Mallett Brothers Band. There’s also psychedelic trailblazer Jeff Beam, and Zach Jones, a part-time Mainer who regularly releases endearingly catchy songs that find a new spin on the Beach Boys and Motown (full disclosure: this writer is from the area). When Wayne moved to Portland in 2001, the scene was “way smaller.” But now, more than a dozen venues have opened in the past decade (not to mention restaurants: Bon Appétit named it the top food scene in the country in 2018). The industry is paying attention — NYC promoters Bowery Presents chose Portland as its first city outside of New York to operate venues in.

Band members of Spencer & The Walrus, warm up backstage in the Green Room of The State Theater, before the first of three shows in Portland, Maine on Nov 29th 2019. Photo: Ryan David Brown

Best Gig With a View

Thompson’s Point was an abandoned railroad yard overlooking Portland harbor that the State Theatre turned into a gorgeous outdoor spot; Maggie Rogers sold it out twice. “It’s the best place to see the sunset in Portland,” says Wayne, adding that artists love playing there for the free lobster rolls and oysters.

Rustic Overtones’ Dave Gutter and Jon Roods Photo: Lauryn Sophia Photogaphy

Hometown Heroes

Rustic Overtones, the ambitious punk-soul crew — led by gravel-voiced frontman Dave Gutter — have a catalog that locals know by heart. The band was signed to Arista in the late Nineties and even recorded with David Bowie (stream the great “Sector Z”). But after two major-label deals fell apart, they broke up (“It’s a comedy of errors,” says Gutter). Rustic reunited in 2007 and got back to what they do best; check out their excellent first album in six years, and the career-spanning Mood Box.

While Gutter says that Portland is full of “studio lab rats, we collaborate and work with a lot of artists at our studio. After we recorded our first project there, New Way Out with 31 musicians, it kind of set the tone for a community of musicians to always hang out there.”

Best Small Clubs

One Longfellow Square is a 185-capacity “listening room” featuring left-field heroes ranging from Marco Benevento and John Scofield to Robyn Hitchcock and Elizabeth Cook. “With Portland being a smaller touring market compared to the bigger cities like Boston and New York, we get a lot of artists that [usually] play bigger rooms,” say Jeff Beam, an artist who books the venue. “I remember Leo Kottke commented on that intimacy the first time he was here, the rawness caught him off-guard a bit.” Also: check out Port City Blue, a vibe-y room that hosts jazz jams that can run for hours. “You can see a show every night of the week,” says Bill O’Neil, a longtime radio DJ and record store owner.

A Secret Country Past

Maine had one national country star: Dick Curless, an eyepatch-wearing singer who had his biggest hit with 1965’s “Tombstone Every Mile.” Willie Nelson affectionately calls Curless’ songs “toe-tappers.” “The Maine country music tradition goes back to before the first Grand Ole Opry broadcast,” says author and rock & roll historian Peter Guralnick. “Many people know Dick Curless, Maine’s one national country music star, but they’re less aware of the tradition in which his talent was forged, and which he came to influence so strongly by the breadth of his talent and the depth of his feeling. Dick started out on Al Hawkes’ country and rockabilly-based Event label, in Westbrook, Maine, just outside of Portland. In fact, Dick was the start of the label, which also featured the great jazz guitarist Lenny Breau, still in his teens, in a country and rockabilly vein. All over the country there are pockets of talent and creativity like this — but Maine, home to so many Acadians who never made it further south, is second to none.”

Portland is also famous for a show that didn’t happen there. Elvis Presley was supposed to play the Cumberland County Civic Center on August 17, but he died the day he was supposed to travel to Portland for the show. “I actually had his guitar player James Burton lined up for an interview the day he died,” says Bill O’Neil. Elvis had played Augusta several months earlier: “We went to the airport and Colonel Parker is sitting there with his cigar, we talked for an hour and a half about Eddy Arnold and Hank Snow and all these other people he previously worked with,” says O’Neil. “I actually got an Elvis album autographed by the Colonel. That might be rarer than an autograph of Elvis!”

Beatles Night at the State Theatre. Photo by John Doyle

Best After-Show Hang

Portland’s Old Port is full of exciting places to drink, like Novare Res, which has a 300-beer menu. For real local flavor, head to Howie’s Pub, a low-key neighborhood bar with darts and jalapeño poppers. “It’s not a pretentious bar,” says O’Neil. “You have a lot of your good local beers available, as well as your PBRs and your $2 Labatt Blues during the hockey games. You’re not necessarily buying the signature cocktail.”

This content was originally published here.

[sinsiriuslyemo]

Good morning everyone!! Welcome to another episode of Cuba v DR!! Dama gets a little off the rails, luckily she has people in her life that love her and help her through it! Meanwhile Amber gets a call from a would be surprise visitor, and Rafael gets to know his victim on a deeper level...

Stay tuned for episode 22 from @missjennifercole later today!!

EPISODE 21

By the time Rafael arrived, you were awake, looking around the house for something. “Do you think doctor Lindstrom would spy on me?” you asked as you peek into cabinets.

Rafael’s eyes widened slightly as he shared a brief worried glance with Nevada.

“No, hermanita...why would he do that?” he asked you seriously.

“Because he doesn't like me, he's never liked me, he doesn't think I'd be a fit mother. I'm a great mother!” You turned to them for confirmation.

“You are a great mother,” Nevada replied as Rafael nodded.

“Of course you are, why do you think he doesn’t think you’re a fit mother?” your brother asked.

“The way he said congratulations. Like...congratulations.” You said it in a totally normal voice and scowled.

Rafael’s chin slowly tilted upwards in a snail-paced, single nod of his head.

“Okay, he probably just meant congratulations,” he offered softly. “We can talk to him about it, if you want.”

“I gotta go,” Nevada said to you regretfully.

You look at him slowly, a mixture of emotions running over your face before finally settling on mild disappointment.

“Okay,” you said gently.

“Y/N, I have to get to the center, but I’ll be back in a little while. Rafael is gonna keep you company until I get back, okay?” he replied.

You nodded and looked at his lips, licking your own hopefully. He smirked a little and dropped a sweet kiss on your mouth.

“I’ll be back in a little bit,” he promised, kissing you once more.

You smiled kissing back and nodded, pressing your nose against his so you can whisper, “I love you.”

“Me too,” he answered softly, winking at you before he walked to the door, patting Rafael’s shoulder in silent thanks on his way out.

“Come on, chiquita, why don’t we put on a nice, happy comedy?” your brother suggested, pulling off his jacket and hanging it on the hook on the wall.

“In a minute,” you said as you looked through the vases, the flowers, everything that could be hiding a camera or a secret. You frowned when you found nothing, brows furrowed.

“Y/N, you’re not gonna find anything because there’s nothing to find,” Rafael said softly. “Come on, I’ll make you some tea. Let’s do something to take your mind off this nonsense,” he suggested, bringing you into the kitchen.

You sat down at the table and took a deep breath, not able to do anything but bury your face in your hands as you try to calm yourself. Rafael made himself busy heating the water-filled tea kettle on the stove before he came and sat down with you, taking one of your hands in his and placing a firm kiss on the back.

“I’m sorry, I feel as though I let you down...not having been around very much since the twins were born,” he said softly. “Work has been...kind of taking over my life this past week.”

“It's okay,” you said gently. “I know you've been busy,” you smiled softly at him then looked at him seriously. “I'm not crazy, they wait till I'm sleeping to cry. They bite me when I nurse them, they throw up on me, they want me dead.”

“Chiquita, that’s all just things babies do. Cut yourself some slack, don’t forget that you haven’t been through this part of having kids until now. You’re learning, just like Nevada had to learn with Lily,” he offered. “And if it makes you feel any better, he once brought her over to see me and Emmy and forgot to bring diapers. He used one of our good towels to make a diaper after she pooped through her onsie. You’re doing great, you just have to be a little patient...with them and more importantly, with yourself.”

You pressed your face against his shoulder. “Dr. Lindstrom wouldn't bug my house,” you rationalized.

“Of he wouldn’t, hermanita,” he whispered against your hair as the tea kettle whistled loudly.

Dropping a kiss on the top of your head, he moved to pour some of the boiling hot water into a coffee mug with a tea bag inside and set it down in front of you.

“They bite your nipples? Maybe they’re just not latching properly. The way they position their mouths when they eat from a bottle is different that when they get it from the source. You could make an appointment with a lactation consultant,” he offered.

“Maybe,” you whispered, holding the mug as you slowly sipped it. “Tell me about the case?” You asked, wanting a distraction.

“Well, we’ve got some good evidence, but not enough...I want him to be cornered with physical evidence. Things he can’t refute, evidence he can not make go away. I have one of his victim’s diary, I’m gonna take a look and see if there’s something, anything I can use,” he answered, sighing as he made himself a mug and sat back down beside you. “Leila came to me yesterday...she was covered in bruises. Everywhere but her face.”

“Poor girl,” you whispered as you stroked his hair. “I think you need to read that diary, the number one reason to have a diary is to rant about stupid boys.”

He smirked a little, snorting softly. You looked around again, reminding yourself that no one was listening.

“I'm worried I'm not gonna be a good mother to these kids,” you said gently.

“You are,” he assured you with a gentle smile. “You’re already a great mother to Lily...and Eddie...I think you may have saved that kid’s life. Literally and figuratively.”

You sighed and hugged him, “I love you,” you whispered through tears. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too hermanita.”

Amber came storming into the club going straight to the bar. “Alcohol, now.”

“Jesus, what’s with you?” Barry grumbled as he poured her a double scotch.

She pressed play on her voicemail.

“Amber honey, it's Mommy! I heard you're getting married! I got your number from your sister. Anyway, I'll be down to help with the ceremony soon, so I need you to book me a flight and a hotel somewhere...safer. Anyway, I need you to get me a car as well, something not too flashy, where can I get a low key Porsche? Okay, call me back sweetheart. I'm so glad we worked things out!”

Amber rubbed her temples, “We haven't spoken in years, we haven't worked anything out. She just sees a chance to party plan.” Amber chugged the scotch and gestured for another. “Keep em coming.”

Barry’s brows shot up on his forehead as he poured another for her. Omar came out from the backroom, and snorted when he saw Amber at the bar.

“I thought you were going shopping for the bridemaids gifts,” he said, coming to stand beside where she sat.

“I'm taking a break,” she downed glass number three with a shudder.

Omar arched a brow at her. “Okay. Barry, three drink limit during the day,” he said and the bartender nodded, tucking the scotch bottle back on the shelf.

“You're a trader Barry,” she scowled and looked at Omar, playing the voicemail once again for him.

“You don’t sign my paychecks,” Barry answered with a smirk.

“Que clase chusmeria. Just call her back and tell her we don’t need help,” Omar offered with a shrug. “It shouldn’t come as a shock to her, you guys haven’t spoken in years, I thought.”

“I just don't want to be like them, I don't want to shut them out. I want them to be in my life. If I shut her out, I'm not much better than they are,” she sighed, “but also she's a thundercunt.”

“I didn’t say shut her out, just tell her you got the planning under control, but she’s more than welcomed to come and visit,” Omar clarified. “Getting drunk at one o’clock in the afternoon ain’t gonna anything besides give you a hangover, and you know how I am when people have hangovers,” he added with a smirk.

She scowled, “No one likes a hangover aggravator,” she stuck her tongue out and tugged him a little close. “Kiss me so I won't hate you as much when I'm hungover.”

He shook his head, dropping a chaste kiss on her lips. “You’re gonna hate me anyway...I think I’ll be in the mood to listen to folk music later,” he teased, half-serious. She wouldn’t put it past him to play obnoxious music, very loudly just to annoy her hangover.

“Give me a real kiss,” she pleaded, already tipsy. “You're gonna be a dick later, at least do something sweet, romantic, sweep me off my feet. Or spank me and bite my neck. Um...what else… choke me while you name the states alphabetically.” One of Nevada's men laughed, clearly listening from across the room.

“No, why should I reward you for bad behavior?” he replied before he looked up at their eavesdropper and arched a brow. “Y tu, no tienes nada que hacer?” he asked.

“Better than hearing this?” He shook his head.

“This isn't bad behavior,” Amber pouted. “You never kiss me when I want.”

“You get so whiney when you’re drunk,” Omar teased.

“Please?” She cupped his cheek.

“Coño bro, your lady looks that gorgeous shit faced and you don't even kiss her? Aye Mami, you want a good time you know where to find me.”

“There you go,” Omar mumbled to her with a chuckle, jokingly pointing towards Sucio.

“Calmete papi,” she cooed at Sucio. “Your heart would give out if I played with you.”

Sucio chuckled nodding to Omar. “She isn't wrong. You got a good one Omar.”

“Si, yo se,” Omar mumbled, giving her another kiss, a little firmer this time. “Put your big girl pants on and talk to your mom,” he said before he grabbed his jacket from the office and walked towards the door.

She smiled after him, watching him go. She took a deep breath, picking up her phone and dialing.

“Hello...mom? it’s Amber.”

You'd fallen asleep against Rafael, body exhausted from lack of sleep as you curled into your brother's warmth. With one arm protectively around you, he thumbed through Michele’s diary with the other hand. You’d been right. Not only did Michele write about she and Cory’s tumultuous relationship, but she’d recorded every last abusive detail. It almost read the way a novel would, and he could hardly believe how long the abuse had carried on before she finally decided to tell someone. Finally, he got to the last entry, the night she’d lost her life.

...The trial starts next week, and I can hardly believe how much better I feel knowing that Cory will finally have to answer for everything he put me through. I’m still not okay, I’m not sure that I’ll ever be, but it’s a--

The entry stopped mid sentence, and she’d skipped a line before continuing.

Cory just called. He said he wants to talk. I know this is going to sound pathetic but even though I hate what he’s done to me for the last two years, I still love him with everything inside me. He asked to come over, so I said he could, but I asked Rachael to stay in case he gets mad. She said she will only if she can stay in her room. She said if I need her to call the police, to just call her name once.

That’s gotta be him at the door. I’ll let you know how it goes.

Rafael frowned, though part of him was relieved that he at least had something to hold Cory in prison for a little while until he could gather more evidence to charge him with murder. He thought about whether Leila would be willing to press charges against him if he was held on remand. He needed the lab results on that partial glove.

“Any luck?” You mumbled sleepily.

“He was court ordered not to have contact with the victim...and according to her diary, he not only called her, but he went to her apartment. It’s enough to arrest him, but not enough for remand. I would need proof that he killed her to hold him until I can try him for murder,” he answered sadly, shaking his head after a moment. “This girl had so much going for her. The first several entries are so...light-hearted, energetic...like she had the world at her fingertips and couldn’t wait to reach out for it. After she met him the entries just keep getting darker and darker...he killed her spirit long before he murdered her.”

He sighed heavily, closing the diary and pinching the bridge of his nose. Despite having done this as long as he had, despite every win, every hope he’d helped restore, some cases still shook him hard.

“You can darken a spirit but you can't kill it. I've known girls like that, they're fighters in the end, and if I was were, I would have gone down swinging.” You sit up, stretching a bit. “Did anyone ever check her jewelry?”

“I don’t think so. At least it wasn’t in the report...it was ruled an accidental suicide,” he answered as something else occurred to him. “Come to think of it, I don’t remember seeing a blood alcohol level anywhere in there either. There were empty wine and beer bottles in her room but…”

The gloves. Cory must’ve planted those bottles, used the gloves while he set the scene, and then tossed them in the garbage disposal. The kitchen was never part of the crime scene, the police wouldn’t have thought to look in there for any evidence. The bottles, in theory, would still be logged into evidence.

“See if she was wearing any jewelry when she fell, my wedding ring catches on everything and I've scratched Nevada by accident multiple times, it would be easy for her to have gotten some DNA on that.”

“That’s a good idea,” he mumbled, turning his head a little towards you. “Thanks.”

You nodded as the door opened and you smiled to see Nevada. You ran to him, wrapping your arms around his neck and grinning, looking up at him and giving him a tiny peck on the lips. He smirked down at you, one arm wrapping around your waist.

“Te vez mejor,” he said softly, kissing your forehead and looking at Rafael. “Rachael’s good to go. She won’t even know they’re there.”

“Good, thank you. I have to get down to the ME’s office--” Lily came bounding inside, Ella beside her and Chelsea with the stroller following.

“Tio Rafael!!!”

“After I say hello to mi niña tan rica,” Rafael added, picking Lily up and peppering kisses over her face as he hugged her tightly. She giggled against the assault and clutched tightly to his neck.

“Fiona drank that other bottle, but NJ wouldn’t even try. I think he just wanted his momma,” Chelsea said, smiling at you.

You smiled and picked NJ up, pressing your nose against his. “Lo siento,” you whispered to him. “Mami esta loca, pero...te amo mucho,” you whispered and kissed his face.

“Hi, I’m Rafael, Y/N’s brother,” Rafael introduced himself, smiling politely at the dark haired woman.

“Chelsea, nice to meet you,” she replied.

“You too. Excuse me, but I believe there’s another niece I haven’t greeted,” he said, carefully, moving between Chelsea and the stroller and picking up Fiona while you sat on the couch and placed a feeding blanket over yourself, trying to feed NJ.

“Mami, I colored a picture!” Lily exclaimed, holding up her multi colored kids menu as proof.

“Oh baby, that's beautiful! It's one of my favorite you've ever colored! It's going up on the fridge tonight,” you smiled at her as you fed NJ, stroking his hair while he ate.

“Yay!”

“Well, I should probably get Ella home, she has dance in an hour, and she still has to change,” Chelsea said, giving you one last smile as Nevada opened the door for her and kissed her cheek.

“Thanks again for taking them out,” he said, earning a nod from her.

“Sure, anytime.”

“Yeah, thank you Chelsea,” you said softly although his kiss on the cheek made your blood boil. You nodded to Lily, “Dale, upstairs, daddy's gonna give you a bath while I put these two down for bed.”

“I should get going, too,” Rafael said regretfully, handing over Fiona and kissing NJ’s head while you burped him before he took Michele’s diary and his briefcase and headed out.

“No bath!” Lily exclaimed, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Oye, apestosa, vamos,” Nevada replied, pointing Lily upstairs.

Lily stomped the entire way upstairs. You giggled as you grabbed both babies, heading upstairs with Nevada to put the kids in bed. You tucked each baby in, kissing them and holding them close before turning to Nevada.

“Are you...sleeping downstairs?” you asked cautiously. He looked at you expressionless for what seemed to be a lifetime.

“Do you want me to?” he asked softly.

You didn't hesitate to nod. “Yes.” He let out a soft sigh and nodded his head.

“Okay,” he answered. “I’m gonna give Lily a bath and then put her down for her nap,” he added, moving into the bathroom where Lily had thrown all of her clothes into the bathtub.

You giggled, seeing the act of defiance before moving to the bedroom to lay down while you had the chance, turning on the tv and kicking off your jeans and bra, getting comfortable in your thin white tank top.

After giving Lily a scolding, followed by the bath she was trying to avoid, Nevada set her down for a nap before he knocked on the door frame.

“Lindstrom ever call you back?” he asked, leaning against the entryway to your bedroom.

You nodded, “I have an appointment tomorrow,” you said gently as you pulled back the covers as a silent invitation for him to come sit with you. “I'd like the company,” you said with a soft smile.

He looked at the empty space you offered briefly before silently moving into the bedroom and sitting on the bed, legs outstretched over the covers.

“I’m glad,” he replied gently. “And I’m glad you feel better than you did this morning,” he added in just as soft a tone.

You nodded and smiled, lacing your fingers with his as you turned on the tv. You didn't say anything, just smiled, curling up to him.

[theonyxpath]

Repel the Crusade for Prince’s Gambit by Andrew Trabbold

    Kind of feel like our vampiric character pictured above in the Prince’s Gambit Intrigue deck. Crawlin’ through some tough times to get here. But HERE is quite excellent actually.

First, our first foray into Kickstarting a card game is going gangbusters, with our Prince’s Gambit KS funding goal met in the first few hours, and our backers jumping our pledge totals past several Stretch Goals that add to the deck already. There have also been some great ideas talked about for game rules variants: everything from adding rules for Anarchs and the Inconnu to rules for fewer or more players.

Because backers can download the card PDFs and rulebook, we’ve also been getting folks telling us how much fun they’ve been having maneuvering through the Intrigues and trying to discover who’s Sabbat. Which is always so great to hear! You never know if players will enjoy the game as much as you did creating it.

If you haven’t checked it out, please do, and if you like it: spread the word. With this being our first card game, we don’t have as much of a voice in card games circles, so any help letting folks know could be huge for the game!

Also, like I mentioned last week: we’ll be holding an Ask Me (Us) Anything on Reddit this Wednesday the 29th starting around 12 noon EDT. Various developers and Onyx Path folks will be on throughout the day, and Justin Achilli will pop on in the evening after he gets done his day job to talk about Prince’s Gambit. So if you want all the inside info, that’s the place to go next week!

Just want to emphasize that this is not just for Prince’s Gambit, so we’ll answer about anything!

If you can’t make it, feel free to leave any questions you’d like us to ask during the AMA session right here in the comments.

    Elemental Resonance for M20: Book of Secrets by Michael Gorgi

  For those who have asked: we are doing something very special for April Fool’s Day. The only thing I can say, quoting Eddy Webb, is that “On Saturday, discover the latest reason why we fired Neall!”

    Faka from the EX3 Jumpstart: The Tomb of Dreams by Melissa Uran

    Which leads us nicely into a decently big chunk of information for folks concerned about Exalted 3rd Edition as a continuing game line. For weeks I’ve been mentioning that we’ve been working very diligently on putting together a plan for how we’re going to handle EX3‘s releases.

(Seriously, this is a long one).

First off, I’m incredibly happy to announce that Eric Minton and Robert Vance have agreed to become the new developers for Exalted 3rd Edition. Eric and Robert have been all over EX3 in various capacities since writing began, and their involvement and love of Exalted goes further back than that.

(I’m not even sure why I’m introducing them, actually, since our long-time community knows these guys so well).

With their help, we have put together a schedule for releases that starts with getting the Exalted 3rd Jumpstart: Tomb of Dreams out to backers as soon as we can get the finished layout approved by the new White Wolf.

Next, they are finishing up Arms of the Chosen, and we expect to have the Advance PDF ready in three months.

They are also in the process of assigning the remaining writing that needs to be done on the Dragon Blooded and The Realm books. Most of the writing for both books has been completed, so once they get used to our process for hiring writers and contracting and all that, we can nail down expectations on when the text will be done. Which is really important, because we won’t be Kickstarting Dragon Blooded until the text is completely finished.

After a lot of discussion, and a fair bit of soul-searching, we’ve decided that the next two books will be Exigents and Lunars. We love a lot of the books proposed on previous schedules, and think they would really expand and enrich EX3, but we have to start getting our Exalted community the projects they need to play NOW (or close to NOW), rather than multiple years from now.

But even with Eric and Robert revved up and excited to deliver the projects I mention above, we can’t deliver these projects backwards through time. And these new devs need to learn their new jobs.

The remaining Kickstarter Rewards will be coming out in the months to come, with Matt Forbeck telling us that his novel’s finished drafts are on their way, and Aaron Rosenberg hammering away at his novel. The EX3 Essays book is being outlined and writers are being contacted, and composer James Semple has all but one of the Exalted character themes finished. He then has to create the “adventure themes” part of the EX3 Music Suites, but needed to figure out the the character themes so he could include parts of them in the adventure themes.

I’m not a musician, so I’ll have to take his word on the process.

So what we have planned are two projects that we are going to start releasing in April. That’s right, in order to provide our community with playable material now and not waiting until the Arms of the Chosen Advance PDF is released three months from now, we’re going to be releasing a section of each book each month as PDFs.

The first book, EX3: Antagonists, will feature both individual NPCs as well as antagonist groups. Each section will be smaller than a chapter, and we’ll be combining them all together as a PDF and PoD book after we have made a good number of them available monthly.

The second book will be the EX3 Bestiary, and will features creatures of all power levels. Some will be creatures the writers of the core had to hold back on, and others will be new and determined by what gaps we see from the core book that this project can fill. We’ll release these in monthly sections that we’ll combine at some point into a book, as well.

Rather than adding projects to the new devs’ already intimidating plate, both these books will be spearheaded by writers familiar with EX3, and reviewed by Eric and Robert. (Also, both books need to be approved by the new White Wolf Publishing before we officially can go ahead with them.)

Finally, our new devs will be making themselves regularly available on the Onyx Path Exalted forum, and will be releasing excerpts and development notes and text on a regular basis. In fact, here is an excerpt from Arms of the Chosen, and in April we’ll have a look at the Dragon Blooded charms:

http://ift.tt/2nuT153

Obviously, this whole message hasn’t delved into the nitty-gritty of what brought us here, and we really don’t intend to. Instead, we are celebrating a new team of creators, as well as the monumental work that John Morke and Holden Shearer were able to accomplish through some incredibly grueling times for them personally. What glories the future holds!

    BLURBS!

KICKSTARTER!

The Prince’s Gambit casual vampire card game Kickstarter went live last Thursday and funded in about 3 hours! We’ve been passing alternating Stretch Goals for adding the Independent Clans and new art at a rapid clip since then, with more cool rewards yet to come. So please check it out: http://ift.tt/2nj37GG and don’t forget to join us for our Ask Me (Us) Anything on Reddit this Wednesday the 29th starting around 12 noon EDT. Various developers and Onyx Path folks will be on throughout the day, and Justin Achilli will pop on in the evening after he gets done his day job to talk about Prince’s Gambit. So if you want all the inside info, that’s the place to go!

Designed by long-time Vampire: the Masquerade tabletop RPG developer Justin Achilli, Prince’s Gambit is a fast-paced social deduction game set within the world of Vampire, but which requires no special knowledge to play. Players must cooperate to gain the favor of the Prince while deducing who among them are secretly the traitorous Sabbat infiltrators.

Next, the Monarchies of Mau KS is scheduled come after Gambit.

  ON SALE!

    Looking for our Deluxe or Prestige Edition books? Here’s the link to the press release we put out about how Onyx Path is now selling through Indie Press Revolution: http://ift.tt/1ZlTT6z

You can now order wave 2 of our Deluxe and Prestige print overrun books, including Deluxe Mage 20th Anniversary, and Deluxe V20 Dark Ages!

    Beasts are added to Hunter: the Vigil with Tooth and Nail, coming atcha in PDF and physical book Pod versions this Wednesday on DriveThruRPG.com! In conjunction with HtV: Tooth and Nail going on sale, we will also be releasing new TShirts on our RedBubble site featuring the new symbols from the book!

    The Secrets of the Covenants for Vampire: the Requiem 2nd REVEALED this Wednesday on DTRPG! Physical copy PoD version coming to DTRPG: http://ift.tt/2gbQjus

Vampires gather under many banners. But five have endured the tumult of Western history better than any other. The Carthian Movement. The Circle of the Crone. The Invictus. The Lancea et Sanctum. The Ordo Dracul. Each has its fierce devotees, its jealous rivals, and its relentless enemies. Now,for the first time, the covenants speak for themselves.

This book includes:

A variety of stories from each of the covenants, all told in their own words.

Never-before revealed secrets, like the fate of the Prince of New Orleans.

New blood sorcery, oaths, and other hidden powers of the covenants.

    From the massive Chronicles of Darkness: Dark Eras main book, we have pulled this single chapter, Dark Eras: Fallen Blossoms (Hunter 1640-1660 Japan). Japan is moving into the Edo Period. New laws and new ways of thinking wash over the land, and with a new order come new threats to humanity. Take a look at the Vigil in a time where samurai transition from warlords to bureaucrats, Japan massively and lethally rejects outside influence, and when Edo rapidly grows into a world power.

Continuing our individual Dark Eras chapters, we offer you Dark Eras: Fallen Blossoms on in PDF and physical copy PoD versions on DTRPG! http://ift.tt/2mfc1F1

    From the massive Chronicles of Darkness: Dark Eras main book, we have pulled this single chapter, Dark Eras: Doubting Souls (Hunter 1690-1695 Salem). Immigrants and tribes struggled to co-exist on the Eastern Seaboard in the ever-expanding Colonies. Violent clashes, supernatural beliefs, and demonic influences spelled disaster for Salem Village and its surrounding towns, while others fought werewolves and vampires on the frontier. With so much at risk, only god-fearing men and women were deemed innocent — and those were few indeed.

Available in PDF and physical copy PoD versions on DTRPG: http://ift.tt/2kKOrfm

    From the massive Chronicles of Darkness: Dark Eras main book, we have pulled this single chapter, Dark Eras: The Bowery Dogs (Werewolf 1969-1979 NYC). New York City in the 1970s. Crime. Drugs. Gang violence. Vast economic disparity. And werewolves. It’s a lean, ugly time to be alive, and the lone wolf doesn’t stand a chance out there. In the end, all you really have is family.

Available in PDF and physical copy PoD versions on DTRPG: http://ift.tt/2lM0Tzv

    The Locker is open; the Chronicles of Darkness: Hurt Locker, that is! PDF and physical copy PoDs are now available on DTRPG! http://ift.tt/2gbM9me

Hurt Locker features:

Treatment of violence in the Chronicles of Darkness. Lasting trauma, scene framing, and other tools for making your stories hurt.

Many new player options, including Merits, supernatural knacks, and even new character types like psychic vampires and sleeper cell soldiers.

Expanded equipment and equipment rules.

Hurt Locker requires the Chronicles of Darkness Rulebook or any other standalone Chronicles of Darkness rulebook such as Vampire: The Requiem, Werewolf: The Forsaken, or Beast: The Primordial to use.

    From the massive Chronicles of Darkness: Dark Eras main book, we have pulled this single chapter, Dark Eras: Ruins of Empire (Mummy 1893-1924). Perhaps the quintessential era of the mummy in the minds of Westerners, this period saw the decline of the two greatest empires of the age: British and Ottoman. Walk with the Arisen as they bear witness to the death of the Victorian age, to pivotal mortal discoveries in Egypt, and to the horrors of the Great War.

Available in PDF and physical copy PoD versions on DTRPG. http://ift.tt/2k0XDhX

    From the massive Chronicles of Darkness: Dark Eras main book, we have pulled this single chapter, Dark Eras: The Sundered World (Werewolf and Mage 5500-5000 BCE). At the birth of civilization, in the shadow of the Fall, the Awakened stand as champions and protectors of the agricultural villages spread across the Balkans. In a world without a Gauntlet, where Shadow and flesh mingle, the steady taming of the world by humanity conflicts with the half-spirit children of Father Wolf.

Available in PDF and physical copy PoD versions on DTRPG. http://ift.tt/2k16mRj

    Night Horrors: Conquering Heroes for Beast: the Primordial is available now as an Advance PDF: http://ift.tt/2j7p7lO

This book includes: 

An in-depth look at how Heroes hunt and what makes a Hero, with eleven new Heroes to drop into any chronicle.

A brief look at why Beasts may antagonize one another, with seven new Beasts to drop into any chronicle.

Rules for Insatiables, ancient creatures born of the Primordial Dream intent on hunting down Beasts to fill a hunger without end, featuring six examples ready to use in any chronicle.

    The PDF and physical book PoD versions of Reap the Whirlwind, the Vampire: the Requiem 2nd Edition Jumpstart swirls into being on DTRPG! http://ift.tt/2i1WPpD

You are a vampire, a junkie. Every night, you beg and you borrow and you steal just a little more life, just a few more sweet moments. But there’s a guy at the top. The Prince. He’s got everything. The money, the secrets, the blood.

Tonight, you’re going to take it from him. Tomorrow, there’ll be hell to pay.

This updated edition of Reap the Whirlwind features revisions to match the core rulebook for Vampire: the Requiem 2nd Edition. Text edits and rules clarifications have also been updated.

Reap the Whirlwind Revised includes:

Rules for creating and playing vampires in the Chronicles of Darkness

The first two levels of every clan Discipline, the dark powers of the dead

A complete adventure by noted horror author Chuck Wendig

This new revised Reap the Whirlwind Revised includes an updated booklet, 7 condition cards, and the interactive Vampire: the Requiem 2nd Edition character sheet.

      Open the V20 Dark Ages: Tome of Secrets now on DTRPG! Both PDF and physical book PoD versions are now available! http://ift.tt/2i1XOXd

The Tome of Secrets is a treatment of numerous topics about Cainites and stranger things in the Dark Medieval World. It’s about peeling back the curtain, and digging a little deeper. Inside, you’ll find:

• Expanded treatment of Assamite Sorcery, Koldunic Sorcery, Necromancy, and Setite Sorcery

• A look at Cainite knightly orders, faith movements, and even human witchcraft

• Letters and diaries from all over the Dark Medieval World

              CONVENTIONS!

Discussing GenCon plans. August 17th – 20th, Indianapolis. Every chance the booth will actually be 20? x 30? this year that we’ll be sharing with friends. We’re looking at new displays this year, like a back drop and magazine racks for the brochure(s).

In November, we’ll be at Game Hole Con in Madison, WI. More news as we have it, and here’s their website: http://ift.tt/RIm6qP

        And now, the new project status updates!

    DEVELOPMENT STATUS FROM ROLLICKING ROSE (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)

Exalted 3rd Novel by Matt Forbeck (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Trinity Continuum: Aeon Rulebook (The Trinity Continuum)

M20 Gods and Monsters (Mage: the Ascension 20th Anniversary Edition)

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

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

Ex Novel 2 (Aaron Rosenberg) (Exalted 3rd Edition)

C20 Novel (Jackie Cassada) (Changeling: the Dreaming 20th Anniversary Edition)

Pugmire Fiction Anthology (Pugmire)

Monarchies of Mau Early Access (Pugmire)

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

DtD Night Horrors: Enemy Action (Demon: the Descent)

  Redlines

Scion: Origins (Scion 2nd Edition)

Scion: Hero (Scion 2nd Edition)

Kithbook Boggans (Changeling: the Dreaming 20th Anniversary Edition)

WoD Ghost Hunters (World of Darkness)

  Second Draft

The Realm (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Dragon-Blooded (Exalted 3rd Edition)

V20 Dark Ages Jumpstart (Vampire: the Masquerade 20th Anniversary Edition)

GtS Geist 2e core (Geist: the Sin-Eaters Second Edition)

CtD C20 Jumpstart (Changeling: the Dreaming 20th Anniversary Edition)

Pugmire Pan’s Guide for New Pioneers (Pugmire)

VtR Half-Damned (Vampire: the Requiem 2nd Edition)

Trinity Continuum Core Rulebook (The Trinity Continuum)

  Development

W20 Changing Ways (Werewolf: the Apocalypse 20th Anniversary Edition)

Signs of Sorcery (Mage: the Awakening Second Edition)

SL Ring of Spiragos (Pathfinder – Scarred Lands 2nd Edition)

Ring of Spiragos (5e – Scarred Lands 2nd Edition)

SL Dagger of Spiragos (Pathfinder – Scarred Lands 2nd Edition)

Dagger of Spiragos (5e– Scarred Lands 2nd Edition)

Arms of the Chosen (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Changeling: the Lost 2nd Edition, featuring the Huntsmen Chronicle (Changeling: the Lost 2nd Edition)

Book of Freeholds (Changeling: the Dreaming 20th Anniversary Edition)

BtP Beast Player’s Guide (Beast: the Primordial)

  Editing:

CtD C20 Anthology (Changeling: the Dreaming 20th Anniversary Edition)

Wraith: the Oblivion 20th Anniversary Edition

BtP Building a Legend (Beast: the Primordial)

  Post-Editing Development:

CtL fiction anthology (Changeling: the Lost 2nd Edition)

  Indexing:

      ART DIRECTION FROM MIRTHFUL MIKE:

In Art Direction

Beckett’s Jyhad Diary – new stuff AD’dGot some sketches from Sam, finals from Tucker, and a couple more finals from Mark.

W20 Pentex Employee Indoctrination Handbook – Ellis is on it.

Dagger of Spiragos  – Finals in progress… and maps are progressing.

VTR: Thousand Years of Night – Contracted

Cavaliers of Mars – AD’d(ish)

Monarchies of Mau Early Access – 

BtP Building a Legend – Sending out notes to artists…

Wraith 20 – Notes out to KMJ… pinging some of the the old Wraith roster.

M20 Art Book

W20 Changing Ways – Need to read through the notes and figure out my art buy.

  Marketing Stuff

  In Layout

Prince’s Gambit – Making the remainder of graphics this week.

M20 Book of Secrets – Layout in progress. Some art shenanigans fixed… others getting recontracted.

Pugmire Screen – Awaiting new specs from Printer.

Pugmire Cards – Working on these. There are quite a few.

Pugmire – Dropping in index, updating PDFs, and prepping files for press.

April Fool’s thing –

V20 Dark Ages Companion – Recontracting two halfs. Layout is about a third of the way done.

  Proofing

EX3 Tomb of Dreams Jumpstart – going to WW for approval.

C20 – First proof

  At Press

Ex 3 Screen – Shipping almost completed.

Ex 3 core book – Shipping almost completed along with map and bookmarks.

W20 Shattered Dreams – Shipping almost completed.

Shattered Dreams Screen – Shipping almost completed.

Beckett Screen – Shipped to shipper.

Beast Conquering Heroes – PoD proof on the way.

Mortal Remains: Beast- Tooth and Claw – PDF and PoD on sale this Wednesday.

Dark Eras: Beneath the Skin – PoD proof being reviewed.

Dark Eras: Out of the Cold – PoD proof being reviewed.

Necropolis Rio – PoD proof on the way.

V20 Lore of the Bloodlines – PDF out to backers, gathering errata

Dark Eras Companion – PDF out to backers, gathering errata.

W20 Song of Unmaking – Backer PDF going out to W20 KS backers this week.

      TODAY’S REASON TO CELEBRATE: I always heard that “March comes in like a lion, and goes out like a lamb”. Except, now I hear that in the folklore of my wife’s almost-Amish people, their saying reverses the lion and the lamb. Which makes no sense to me. Does your culture have a saying for how March changes in the course of the month? Love to hear it, and meanwhile, Spring is on its way!

[dcnativegal]

I miss Black people

A tall Black man came into the office in Christmas Valley last week to introduce himself as a social services worker for parts of Deschutes County and north Lake County, too.  My door and my fellow therapist’s door were open, and we introduced ourselves and chatted amicably. When he and I discovered we had both lived in DC, I became Chatty Cathy, waxing poetic about Ethiopian Food. It became clear that he wasn’t that familiar with it, couldn’t remember the word ‘injera’… but that was okay. I was talking to a Black man who knew DC.  I’m pretty sure I embarrassed myself. My colleague was friendly and professional. I was irrationally glad to see him out of all proportion to the occasion.

He probably left thinking to himself, white people are weird. Guilty as charged.  

I am one of those white people who study Black people. Their experience, history, personalities, and the systemic, systematic way in which they’ve been imprisoned in one big internment camp called the United States of America. Everything about them, with the possible exception of current music beyond a superficial point. My kids listen to nothing but music made by Black people, so we, as a family, have that covered.

Formative books: I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings. The Color Purple. Beloved. Also, Why do all the Black kids sit together in the Cafeteria, and When Race Became Real. Between the World and Me is the most recent.

Formative movies: Sounder (with music by Taj Mahal).  Anything by Spike Lee (with the possible exception of Inside Job, which is excellent, but not about Black experience.) Moonlight. Daughters of the Dust.  I am Not Your Negro is the most recent. Anything by Ava DuVernay, most recently, 13th. (I dare you, white reader, to watch it, on Netflix, and not have your mind blown.)

Music: Otis Redding. Songs in the Key of Life by Stevie Wonder. Early Michael Jackson and the Jackson Five. Tracy Chapman. India Arie.

I could go on and on… Perhaps I’ll stop with this link to 100 Woke Black women to follow: http://www.essence.com/news/woke-100-women

“Study” does not mean to keep at arms-length. I have been a marshmallow in a sea of cocoa since I can remember being alive. And since, many times, in different schools and neighborhoods, I was one of the few white kids, it behooved me to observe how we are similar and different. When you are the minority, you study the majority.

Little differences, in hygiene practices (Black women are more fastidious), in pronunciation (Andrea is pronounced An DRE uh by Black folks, AN dreeah by white. Darrell is DaRELLE for Black people and DAR rul for white.)  In Happy Birthday songs: Black folks sing the Stevie Wonder version. In mythical secret jokes. Some Black people think that white people smell bad when wet. I’m serious. Based on how stinky the white men were when they came across the Atlantic to kidnap Black people. I mentioned this one day to a church friend, a PhD in Math, descended from Jamaicans, and she gasped! How did I know?! (I read it in a book, silly.)

I notice how much African American Vernacular English is used by white people. “You go, girl.”  “24/7.” “I’m down.” “Word.” White folks don’t necessarily notice. I do. I try not to use AAVE. For fear of being scolded by my daughter. But also, because it is not appropriate. I struggle with this appropriateness thing. Because it’s the right thing to do. I keep learning how much culture has been stolen from Black Americans. Elvis Presley is just the tip of the iceburg. White people have stolen from Black people for millennia, and not just culturally. I look for examples of this, and find it, daily.  I look out of long habit, so that I can give credit where credit is due.

It is absolutely true that Black people have transformed my life again and again. A Black 10th grade English teacher told me I was a good writer and should check out the Urban Journalism Workshop. I did, I applied, I got in, I learned to write, and the article I wrote earned an honorable mention from the Robert Kennedy Journalism awards. It was about the gentrification of Mount Pleasant, a neighborhood in DC. In 1976.  I’m pretty sure I got into Oberlin College because of the Urban Journalism Workshop. Because I had zero extracurriculars besides running away from home. Thank you, Mrs. Feely.

I spent 40 years in the grooviest episcopal church on the planet (IMHO) because of a Black seminarian I almost married. He was 9 years my senior, I was 17, when we met. St Stephen & the Incarnation became my spiritual home because he was assigned there. And after I realized I was too young to marry, it stayed my parish home until I moved to the Oregon Outback in August 2016. Thank you, Eddie.

I miss my Black friends. Gay and straight women, with a few gay Black men in there, too. I know a lot of wonderful straight Black men, but I can’t say I’d call any of them in the middle of the night to take me to the emergency room. (One of my criteria for being a real friend. I’m sure they’d take me; I would just be so embarrassed.)  Each of my friends is amazing. Of course, that is also true of my white friends. I’ve been mulling over the difference between my white and Black friends.

I’m reminded of something I read years ago about being friends across the racial chasm: the Black woman’s advice to her white friend was, “Forget I am Black. And, never forget that I am Black.”  The zen koan of being friends with a Black person.

I feel lucky when a Black person will deign to be my friend. They could so easily reserve their precious energies for other people of color, especially people of the African diaspora. Out of self-care. (deign: verb, do something that one considers to be beneath one's dignity.  "she did not deign to answer the maid's question" Archaic condescend to give [something.]  "He had deigned an apology.")    When I am hanging out with my Black friends who are activists and seemingly tireless in their work for justice in all kinds of situations, I am amazed that they have time for me. I know in fact that they are tired. And I do my best to be someone they can relax with. Even though I am white.

I have a Black friend who grew up in Crown Heights Brooklyn, where my son lives now in an apartment with many roommates. Her parents were from Guyana, an African-Caribbean country. Crown Heights is gentrifying, but it seems to still hold a special mix of Caribbean immigrants and Hasidim. S is a little younger than I am, and also has 2 kids, one in college (same one as my daughter) and the other graduated (as is my son.)  My kids’ dad and I met their family when we each had only one baby in diapers and one parent each were home, and craving adult conversation. Play group in Brookland DC used to meet once a week until the community-organizing father of my children got hold of it, and then it met 3 times a week.

Our oldest boys were friends. We had second children. We developed a tradition of going to the Outer Banks in North Carolina for a week every summer and sharing an old beach house that was right on the water, one family per bedroom. We’d have 4 families give or take, and take turns cooking, looking after munchkins, and going on field trips to the Wright Brothers Museum, Walmart, and movies.

When it was time to figure out where to have the oldest boys go to school, our two families combined forces. In DC, finding a decent public school requires a strategy. We got pretty elaborate: what are our criteria for excellence? How much did each value weigh in the decision?  We teamed up, with S and I spending the night in her car one icy January to get on the list for a popular bilingual Spanish/English immersion school (Oyster Elementary). My kids’ dad and her husband hit a number of schools that were apparently much less popular but still made our list. My kid got into Oyster, and S, who was right after me, did not. We decided that our boys would go to a DC public Montessori program instead of risking separation.  

By the way, S met a nice Jewish young man from Iowa when they both attended Harvard, and married him. After many years, she decided to convert to Judaism, and both boys had bar mitzvahs, which were very cool to attend.

Both families switched to another DC public Montessori program when the original one seemed in steep decline, and enjoyed that community for a while. It became clear that my son wasn’t doing as well in that context, so I got him on a waiting list for a phenomenal charter school that uses the Expeditionary Learning model (affiliated with Outward Bound.)

We remained friends as families, going to the beach, joining the pool just over the DC line that many Brooklanders belonged to. Our boys grew apart, but we still hung out. One amazing bit of fate is that it was S and her son who introduced my boy to film-making at around 6th grade. He now makes his living as a filmmaker and is a Tisch film school graduate.

S is one of those women who is rather butch, and also straight. She is not femme: never wears make up, keeps her hair very short for minimum of fuss, and never wears skirts or dresses (except in her wedding.)  I taught her to knit on one of our beach weeks, and she’s gone on to become expert and imaginative. I figured out at one point that I had a crush on her, but I stomped that out, and we have had a great 20+ year friendship.

When my marriage ended, S and her husband extended dinner invitations to both me and my ex, separately, but only I responded. My ex is introverted, and for some reason he let his connection to these folks wither. I was grateful to hold onto the friendship, and enjoyed coming to their house for amazing food prepared by Ed, the son of the Iowan baker. Lots of far ranging conversation. We’d solve the problems of the world, and then I’d go home. We also share a love of movies. I had to call Ed once to get me to an emergency department, and he did with calm kindness.

Neither S nor her husband are on Facebook much, which is where I keep in touch with most of my social connections from DC. I’ll have to actually write them a letter, which I used to do routinely.  I miss these people very much. Maybe I should just call them up. How novel.

S was my friend first, and Black incidentally.

B became my friend and her Blackness was way more prominent. Whereas S never uses AAVE, B uses it a lot, and with her I feel like I can say “GIIRRRRRLLLL” in greeting.

 B is from a large African-American Catholic family, originally from Florida. Old school Black, which is to say, ancestors enslaved and brought to the mainland United States, then reared here after Emancipation, and always in the minority. Whereas Island folks, from what was formerly known as the West Indies, were also enslaved, they freed themselves from colonial power, and became majority Black countries. B taught me that some Caribbean folks look down on the old school Black folks. I learned a lot about hierarchies within Blackness from Brigette.

We met at a card game for women in our neighborhood. Her son was a year older than mine, and she lived within a block of us. I started to pursue her as a friend; we attended a Black-taught “all sizes welcomed” yoga class in the neighborhood, and would walk there and back every Saturday morning. On those walks we got to know each other.

She is so accomplished; a law degree, an all but dissertation PhD drop out, an author, a management consultant, a philanthropist. I was honored to be the one white person present for a discernment committee she gathered, Quaker style, to help her make a decision.  She influenced me a great deal. I hope I was a good friend to her. She was, probably still is, extremely busy, always, involved in one justice-promoting effort after another. I felt like a slacker in her presence. And she was not judging me. She simply lived every waking moment as an opportunity for social change. I also know there is pain underneath that activity, not just ‘post-traumatic slavery syndrome.’  Our sons are out in the world making art. She is making change. I miss her.

There are many others… Imani, D, Isaiah, Fern, Paulette, Liane…and powerful Facebook friends... Claudia, Alan, Reuben, KM

When I see a Black person out here in Oregon, I am riveted and try not to stare. Black people in white places are used to this, it is the ‘white gaze’, just like women are conscious of the ‘male gaze.’  For the observed, this vigilance is automatic and barely conscious until there is a perceived danger. Is that man (of whatever color) following me down this street? Is that white woman following me in this store?  I regret that I am adding to this vigilance for people of color in Oregon.

In Eugene Oregon at a huge hippy extravaganza called Country Fair, I took to counting Black people. Less than 20. I follow the SURJ-Eugene Chapter on Facebook. It’s the closest chapter to where I live. (Standing up for Racial Justice is a white person’s organization that hopes to support Black Lives Matter efforts. White folks can ask other white folks to call each other out and help each other grow. This is not the job of Black People.)  Oregon is a very white place. 

I am an anti-racist organization of one. Which is not to say I am the only one who cares about racism against Black people, systemic and individualized here in Lake County. I have not yet met anyone as steeped as I am, but it’s always possible. (Where are you?) Anybody out here willing to start a book club to read Witnessing Whiteness? It’s for white people who want to reveal and counteract the racism that lives within all of us.

From the context of my upbringing, and my choice, the collective and multi-hued Black American World is my north star. The Black/white conversation, the current animosity, the centuries-long history, is my cosmology: “noun, the science of the origin and development of the universe.” My social universe. The foundation upon which I build my politics, my theology of justice, my self-image. My corrective. Also, my joy.

I am a white person who works on her racism. Even when there are no Black people in my Oregon Outback world, except a phlebotomist, one former client, and the girlfriend of another. My moral universe is constructed around the fact of the injustice of slavery and its current unjust sequelae. (Noun. se·que·la. a condition that is the consequence of a previous disease or injury.)  Part of the post-slavery curse is the anti-government bias that is ripping further the tattered safety net. It is hard work to help white folks in mostly white contexts to see how anti-Black racism seeps into every bit of politics and also harms them individually. I’m working on this. I find it exhausting when the occasional conversation starts with “I don’t have a racist bone in my body.” I was so spoiled in D.C.

Yes, I believe in reparations. TaNehisi Coates’ work on this in The Atlantic is a paradigm-shifter.  (https://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2014/06/the-case-for-reparations/361631/)

I only recently read a book on the native American experience, Roxanne Dunbar-Ortiz’s epic, “An Indigenous Peoples' History of the United States.” Now I can include the injustice wrought against native peoples into my cosmology. Except I did not grow up as a white person in a majority First Nation context. A whole new arena to familiarize myself with. First Nations are deeply relevant to life out here due to water rights.  (You can watch Roxane Dunbar-Ortiz read from the book here: https://youtu.be/Pn4QTS6S3WU.) And you can read about water rights and the Klamath Nation here: (https://www.rotary.org/en/rotarian-helping-klamath-river-dispute)

I will continue to be a Black-identified white woman living in Whitelandia. I will try not to be obnoxious when I hear something flatly racist, although I will counter it. Someone said something about Black on Black crime early on. I said something, and now she knows I’m a ‘liberal.’  I share about Black experience on Facebook because I rejoice at the artistry and profound accomplishments of people who Overcome, every day. Maybe my new friends in Oregon will have a couple of stereotypes dashed by following my Facebook posts. Maybe not.  Some of the clients at our mental health center are white ex-offenders with Aryan nation tattoos. Lord, make me an instrument of thy peace.

My job is to enlighten white people, somehow, with humility, because i know next to nothing. I need to tell the truth, but tell it slant, as Emily Dickinson wrote, so the truth will dazzle gradually. My job is to live with integrity wherever I am, as inclusively as possible, mining my own deep veins of ignorance (see, Native American History, also, the racist history of Oregon vis a vis Sundown laws, et al.) Counteracting the deep ignorance of the public discourse about the roots of our current politics in my own thinking. And praying to know how to be a bridge builder.

Written on the immensely tall wall of the Lincoln Memorial are words from the 2nd Innaugural address. To quote Wikipedia, “Lincoln suggests that the death and destruction wrought by the [Civil] war was divine retribution to the U.S. for possessing slavery, saying that God may will that the war continue "until every drop of blood drawn with the lash shall be paid by another drawn with the sword", and that the war was the country's "woe due".’  What I believe is that the great Civil War in the USA right now is the price we are paying for the sin of slavery, the divide of have and have not, early white immigrant/imperialist versus newer immigrant especially from South and Central America, the disconnect of white republican voters-for-trump and the fact of their deep dependence on the government. My cousin, President Lincoln, (4th cousin, 5 times removed) was more right than he knew.

I will be an ally no matter where I am, however (deeply) imperfect. I can’t help it.