#it wasn’t in the main church area so I was able to discuss it with my siblings without getting weird looks. it was awesome

[hana-bobo-finch]

I should probably just go to bed because I’m on the verge of posting every single thought I’ve had this past week eeggegeheheheh me when I don’t have my outlet to scream into the void

[chelsfic]

The Hot List, in which the NYC Familiar Discord Ranks their Masters - Nandor x Guillermo Fanfic (one-shot, crack!)

Summary: The familiars of New York City use Discord to connect and blow off steam...and also to rank their masters’ hotness. Nandor discovers this impertinence and throws an internet fit.

Tags: Crack with a touch of angst

A/N: I don’t know. 

---

NYC Familiar Chat #thirsty

Celeste-is-Best: nngh, have you guys seen Mr. 50ss’s’s’ss instagram story????

Celeste-is-Best: He’s so pretty! it’s like turn me, already!

Imurdad | colby: I know, right? I can’t believe he’s only 7 on the hot list…

[Gigi the great and sam teh pretty like this]

Gigi the great: Don’t forget to vote on this month’s poll!!

Best Hair!

We’re the ones who make them look pretty--but who’s the prettiest one of all? This month we’re voting on the NYC vampire with the best hair. Cast your vote!

A. Simon the Devious

B. Nandor the Relentless

C. Tilda

D. Evan

E. Houston

F. Nancy the Relentless

---

Guillermo locked his phone with a little smile. If he could he’d vote a hundred times for Nandor’s hair. It was unlikely that his master would win against the likes of Evan, Tilda and Nancy. He’d thrown Simon on there as a joke and was kind of horrified by how many familiars seemed to be into the limp mullet look. To each their own, he guessed.

On that note, it was almost nightfall and Nandor’s hair wasn’t going to brush itself. Guillermo made his way into the crypt, lighting candles and gathering the soft brush, comb, detangler spray and hair oils. Nandor was what he lovingly referred to as “high maintenance.” He was also surprisingly pitiful for a 750-year old warlord. It took Guillermo ages every night to carefully tease out and brush the knots from his hair without hurting him. It should’ve been annoying after so many years, but the chore remained one of the highlights of Guillermo’s day. 

For one thing, he got to touch his master without being scolded or hissed at. So that was nice. For another thing, Nandor’s hair was as soft as his personality was prickly. Guillermo would often drag out the task, running his fingers through the silky strands and lightly touching Nandor’s jaw to get him to tilt his head this way or that. 

He was doing just that, as well as admiring the expanse of cream and bronze skin revealed by the open collar of Nandor’s loose shirt, when the vampire opened his mouth. 

“Guillermooo...Did you happen to get any virgins for tonight?”

Guillermo’s fingers momentarily tightened around a hank of his master’s hair. He imagined giving it a sharp tug. He forced himself to loosen his grip and replied, “No, master, I’m sorry. Virgins are getting pretty thin on the ground lately. I managed to pick up a couple people from a bible study class, though. They should taste pretty innocent, right?”

Nandor made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat before answering, “You’d be surprised.”

---

NYC Familiar Chat #the-struggle

Gigi the great: I know we all jealously guard our sources, but I’ve been in a dry spell for a few weeks and my master is going to lose it and drink me one of these nights. Anyone have any new leads on virgins in the area?

Gigi the great: I’ve tried the usual stuff...LARPers, church socials, chastity clubs (surprisingly unhelpful…). I’m kinda desperate!

Direct Messages

Celeste-is-Best: only because you had my back last month when I ran out of burial sites…

Gigi the great: OMG! Celeste, please!! 🙏 🥺

Celeste-is-Best: there’s a magic the gathering tournament in brighton heights this weekend...😈

Gigi the great: You are like the virgin whisperer, Celeste. Thank you!

Celeste-is-Best: np

Celeste-is-Best: hey! Are you posting the poll results soon? I voted for Tilda--don’t tell Houston!! LOL

#main

Gigi the great: The results are in! The vampire with the best hair in NYC is……..EVAN!

Check out the Google Form for the full results...

docs.google.com...best_hair

Evan (26%)

Tilda (22%)

Nancy the Relentless (17%)

Simon the Devious (16%)

Nandor the Relentless (13%)

Houston (6%)

---

“What are you typing over there on your intelligent phone?”

Guillermo hurriedly tucked his phone away and looked up to find his master mopping blood from his mouth with a lace-trimmed handkerchief. They were in an alleyway a few buildings down from the comic shop. The limp body of Nandor’s victim lay discarded on the dirty ground. Guillermo smiled affectionately at Nandor trying and failing to clean himself. He took the hanky from him and set about doing the job himself. The snow white fabric was quickly drenched in dark red arterial blood. 

“I was just, um...checking on another potential virgin source,” he lied. 

The familiar Discord was strictly secret. If any of their masters ever found it and saw their human servants’ uncensored discussions... The thought sent a panicked tremor down Guillermo’s spine and he thought--for the thousandth time--that he should delete the app and not look back. But the idea of continuing with this emotionally draining, thankless job without his little support system was just as disturbing. Besides, the server had really come through for him tonight.

“Well done, Guillermo!” Nandor praised him and Guillermo’s heart swelled pathetically. A small, shameful part of him imagined Nandor patting him on the head and he didn’t hate it. “That was the most delicious virgin I’ve had in months!”

“Thank you, master,” Guillermo smiled sweetly, his cheeks dimpling. Nandor watched him for a long moment and he could swear he saw his master’s eyes linger on his mouth. He shut that thought down before it could bloom into a hope that was only doomed for disappointment. 

“Well…I’ll see you back at the house.” Nandor vanished before his eyes, taking his bat form and darting out of the alley with a high-pitched squeak and a furious flap of his leathery wings.

Guillermo sighed, looked at the broken body and wondered if he’d be able to fit his car down the narrow alley or if he’d have to drag the corpse to the opening. He fished out his keys and started the short walk back to his parking spot. All the while thinking, with distracted horror, Simon the Devious beat out Nandor for best hair?!? Really?

---

Direct Messages

Gigi the great: Hey, thanks! The Magic tournament was a hit!

Celeste-is-Best: i do live to serve…

Gigi the great: Har har.

#bitch-session

mish-bish: Ugh!!! Pretty sure my asshole master is hypnotizing me again.

call-me-karen: That’s rough, Misha! You wanna talk about it? My master lets me take the car whenever I want. I can come pick you up…

mish-bish: Yeah, like...I definitely have a huge black hole in my memories from last night. Fuck.

mish-bish: Oh, that’s ok Karen. Thanks.

Gigi the great: Hey @mish-bish. Sorry you’re having a hard time. If you feel up to it, check out the #support channel. A lot of other familiars have gone through this and talked about it there. Sometimes it helps to hear how others cope!

---

“Guillermo! Guillermoooo!”

Nandor’s panicked bellow reached him all the way in the basement where he was checking his lye supply. Guillermo huffed it up the stairs and raced into the fancy room where he found his master staring aghast at his laptop.

“Wh-what is it, master?” he asked, bent over and catching his breath.

“Someone named...Rap4Unlyfe has sent me a fake news!” Nandor wailed, gesturing to the laptop as if the device was personally responsible. 

Guillermo suppressed an eyeroll and walked over to sit beside his master. He watched in dismay as Nandor scooched farther down the couch but he tried not to let it sting too much. 

The browser was open to Nandor’s Hotmail account. He leaned forward to read the open message, unsure what to expect. The blood drained from his face as he read.

from: rap4unlyfe@sassycat.com

cc:  devious@sassycat.com; nandortherelentless@hotmail.com; travelbug54@aol.com ...

subject: rofl bahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahhahahahahahahahahahah

yooooooooooooooooOO!

Has ne1 else seen there familiars on this site??? I hypnotized mine last nite to give me his phone password and...👀 

Mierda. There were two screenshots attached. One was the survey results page from the “best hair” poll. The other was an excerpt from the chat, specifically Guillermo posting the winner of the poll and the link to the results. 

Guillermo’s face fell into an adorably distressed frown. He darted a glance at Nandor but the vampire just looked confused. It wasn’t clear if he yet suspected that his own familiar might be “Gigi the great.”

“Huh…” Guillermo leaned back and smoothed his expression into one of untroubled amusement. “You’re right, looks like fake news. You should probably just ignore it.”

Nandor punched his fist into his thigh and snapped, “But Guillermo! I cannot let this go unanswered! This...this...ludicrous insult! Imagine...me losing a hair contest. Everyone knows I have the most beautiful hair!”

Guillermo blushed magnificently, “Of course, master! This is just...a prank. Someone playing a mean trick on you. You shouldn’t give them the satisfaction--”

The laptop chimed. Guillermo dove to prevent Nandor from reaching it but the vampire simply slapped him away with a petulant whine, “Give me that! Fucking guy…”

Nandor’s lips curled into a snarl as his eyes scanned over the screen. 

“Oh, no! Now they are making a mockery of me on the ether net!”

from: devious@sassycat.com 

cc: nandortherelentless@hotmail.com; travelbug54@aol.com; rap4unlyfe@sassycat.com… 

subject: RE: rofl bahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahhahahahahahahahahahah

Oh! That is too delicious! Suck it, Houston and Nandor! 

It gets even better. Have you seen this, yet?

vamp_hot_list.doc 

“Guillermo, what is a hot list?” Nandor asked with a worried frown, clicking on the attachment. 

“No, master! Don’t--”

It was too late. He watched as his master’s eyes lit with understanding and then intrigue and finally outrage.

“29?! I am number 29 on your dirty hot vampire list!? What is the meaning of this?” Nandor bristled like an angry porcupine, his eyes shooting metaphorical quills into Guillermo’s soft flesh.

“It’s not my list, master!” he insisted and then, guiltily, “Not only mine…”

“Guillermo!” Nandor gasped, his eyes returning to the screen for a moment before pinning him with outraged accusation. “So, it is you!? You are...Gigi the great? Well, I do not think you are so great, little guy! In fact I think you’re pretty un-great right now! And disrespectful!”

Guillermo sank into the couch cushions, melting under his master’s ire and replying miserably, “It’s not as bad as it looks!”

Nandor turned back to the screen and began reading off names from the top of the list, “Viago! Nancy the Relentless! Evan! I suppose these are all vampires you’ve been dreaming of doing the hanky panky with! Putting them on the top of your list above your own master! That’s two demerits, Guillermo!”

“What!? No! Master, I didn’t make the list! We vote on it! Everyone gets a say. If I made the list of course you’d be at the top--”

Guillermo snapped his mouth shut. His face was on fire and he felt like crying. Nandor must have some inkling of his crush, right? After ten years of service? This couldn’t really be the life-ending mortification that it felt like. He waited, wide-eyed, for his master’s reaction. Nandor stared at him, his huge, dark eyes filled with shock and anger. After a long minute he turned back to the laptop, waving a hand dismissively in Guillermo’s face.

“Go to your room now, Guillermo! I need to think of how to punish this impertinence!”

Guillermo stood, barely holding in humiliated tears. He gestured to the device in Nandor’s lap, “My laptop…”

Nandor held it out of Guillermo’s reach and hissed, “No! Vampire only computer time, Guillermo!”

Guillermo left, trudging out of the room with a sinking feeling in his stomach as the sound of Nandor’s flop-wristed typing followed him out the door.

---

#main

Gigi the great: Is everyone okay?

call-me-karen: not fukcing great!

Imurdad | colby: Seriously! WTF!!?

Gigi the great is typing…

Guillermo lay on his little cot with the crocheted blanket his amá made for him pulled up to his chin. Tears streaked down his cheeks and the phone’s glare reflected in his glasses. He thought back to every off handed complaint, every silly photo turned into a “master-shaming” meme, every confession, every joke. All of them laid bare to the world. The Discord server started out as goofy, harmless fun. The hot list was the perfect embodiment of that. But it became so much more. Being a familiar could be lonely. You were isolated from other humans and surrounded by cold, uncaring monsters all the time. Guillermo loved Nandor. Everyone knew this...there were even memes about it on the server! But sometimes his master’s aloofness got to be too much and he needed to reach out to other humans who understood him! 

He threw his phone down onto the mattress, angrily pawing at his teary eyes and wondering if this was it. Not just the end of NYC Familiar Chat, but the end of Guillermo the Great, his long-dreamed-of vampire alias. There was no way Nandor would keep him as a familiar after this…

---

Direct Messages

Celeste-is-Best: OMG! Guillermo, have you seen this?

Celeste-is-Best: http://familiar-hot-list.colinrobinson.net

Celeste-is-Best: hey, if this is Nandor’s big revenge scheme I think you’re going to be ok

Celeste-is-Best: we miss you! 

---

Guillermo heard his master calling him and cringed. It had been a week since the hot list incident and Nandor had spent every waking moment making little jabs at his familiar and grousing about how he’d been betrayed on the internet. But to Guillermo’s surprisingly intense relief, he hadn’t been fired. After ten years of disappointment and hopeless pining, Guillermo half-expected to welcome the prospect of finally being put out of his misery, so to speak. He was kind of shocked, therefore, to feel happiness and gratitude that his master had decided to keep him around, even if only as a verbal punching bag.

He found Nandor in the library, smugly brandishing the purloined laptop. 

“Come have a look at your punishment, Guillermo,” Nandor patted the couch beside him. “This is what happens when you disrespect vampires on the ether net.”

Guillermo swallowed the lump in his throat and collapsed beside Nandor feeling like a man condemned. Their thighs pressed together but for once Nandor didn’t move away. He shoved the laptop at Guillermo and handed him a yellow sticky note with Colin Robinson’s handwriting on it.

“Colin Robinson has assisted in creating a webpage for your disgrace. We have done our own hot list! A familiar hot list. All of the New York vampires voted. So, now you can see how not nice it feels to have your hotness besmirched for all the world to see.”

Guillermo typed in the URL and blinked as the neon green background scorched his retinas. The page was a hideous callback to the internet of the late 1990s right down to the hit counter at the bottom. There was a border of pixelated dancing Draculas surrounding bright orange text.

NYC Familiar Hotness Ranking

1. Guillermo (Nandor the Relentless) - 19%

Guillermo looked at the screen, then over at Nandor, then back to the screen again.

“Master? Have you looked at the results yet?”

Nandor’s brow knit with confusion, “No, why? What does it say?”

He grabbed the laptop and squinted against the garish colors. Guillermo watched Nandor’s face carefully as he read the results. He looked surprised and almost...pleased at first, before giving in to his patented aggravation.

“Fucking Colin Robinson!”

---

New NYC Familiars Group! #welcome

Imurdad | colby: Hey @everyone! Welcome to the new Discord server. Guillermo has stepped down as a mod but he’ll still be around. We don’t have a perfect solution for the security problems we had with the last server. We’re asking everyone to be vigilant about hypnosis and if you feel like you’re losing time, please be sure to secure your phones/computers away from your masters….

---

to: nandortherelentless@hotmail.com

from: travelbug54@aol.com

subject: Something you might want to see…

Hey Nandoorman! How’s it hangin’?  

Listen, I’m sorry that your revenge didn’t go as planned. I noticed you’ve been a little short with Gizmo ever since this whole thing started. As someone who cares about my roomie, I want to advise you to knock it the hell off. Also, I don’t relish the thought of returning to the days before Gizmo came along. Do you even remember what the house used to look like? Pools of blood everywhere. Dead bodies. Melted candles all over the place...

I digress… I managed to snag this screenshot from Count Rapula. I think you may find it interesting.

Your pal,

Colin Robinson 

discord_gizmo.jpg

#confessions

Gigithegreat: Hey guys. This isn’t easy for me to share but I know I’m not the only one who’s dealt with this and if I can help one of you feel less alone then I’ll be glad. As most of you know, I recently “celebrated” my 10th anniversary as Nandor’s familiar. I was convinced, absolutely convinced, that my master was going to make me into a vampire. Well, once again it didn’t happen. He made me this weird portrait out of glitter instead. And the thing is...like, I should leave, right? He’s never going to turn me and that’s the basis for our whole arrangement. I serve him faithfully, he turns me into a vampire. It’s simple, right? So why am I still here? Why am I still burying bodies for him and making human sacrifices? Dressing and feeding him? Treating him like he’s some kind of god and not an ancient cranky baby?  It’s because I’m in love with him. Hopelessly, stupidly, self-destructively in love with my vampire master who thinks of me as nothing more than a really well-trained poodle who can talk. Why? WHY? Because he makes me laugh. Because he’s fiercely protective of his vampire family and (sometimes) that includes me. Because when we’re alone he can be so adorably, painfully vulnerable and it feels like a privilege that I get to witness that side of him. Because he does ridiculously stupid but considerate things like spending hours making me a glitter portrait. When he’s happy with me I feel like I could float and when he’s disappointed I feel like being swallowed up by a sinkhole. And, yeah, he’s also man-of-my-dreams outrageously hot and I cannot believe you cretins have him ranked #29 on the hot list. It’s a crime. 

Gigithegreat: So, yeah. That’s why I stay. I’m no longer hoping for a bite that will never happen. Now it’s a kiss, a hug, a touch, a look. Anything he’s willing to give me I’ll gladly hoard in my little closet-room along with my glitter portrait. Because I’m pathetic. That’s it. That’s the confession.

Imurdad | colby: Brave words, Guillermo. Hang in there, friend.

blood_princess: this is a mood

sam teh pretty: Sending you healing head scritches ❤️

Celeste-is-Best: look, i think i speak for us all when i say we need to see this glitter portrait!!!

[You’re Viewing Older Messages … Jump To Present? ￬]

---

Nandor looked uncharacteristically thoughtful while Guillermo readied him for sleep. The familiar guessed he was still angry that his little revenge plot had backfired. He couldn’t help but feel a little smug about his position as the hottest NYC familiar. Even if he was pretty sure it was mostly due to the other vampires messing with Nandor. Guillermo couldn’t really enjoy his victory, though, not with Nandor’s feelings of betrayal still weighing on his heart.

Nandor’s face was a stoic mask as Guillermo helped him undress. He cooperated listlessly, picking up his feet for Guillermo to remove his heavy boots, lifting his arms up over his head as Guillermo took off his brocade tunic. Finally, he placed his giant hand in Guillermo’s soft, small one and stepped up into his coffin. Guillermo stood by the side of the coffin as he always did, watching over Nandor with affection choking his throat. Nandor smoothed his hair down and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Sweet dreams, master,” Guillermo whispered, leaning across him to catch the lid of the coffin.

“Wait, Guillermo,” Nandor spoke without looking at him, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. “I wish to say something to you.”

Guillermo’s heart sank in his chest. Oh no...his stupid middle schooler revenge didn’t work and now he’s going to send me away… Tears pricked his eyes and he choked, “C-can’t it wait until tomorrow, master?”

“No. I must say this now,” Nandor responded, oblivious to his familiar’s internal drama. “I want to say to you that--and I think I’m being extremely gracious and lenient here--it is fine for you to have your little, pathetic familiar group on the dark internet.”

“O-oh,” Guillermo quickly swiped the tears from his eyes, “thank you, master…”

“But no more mee-mees, Guillermo! Master-shaming...very disrespectful!”

“Of course!” Guillermo laughed, delirious with relief. 

Nandor looked up at him with a final warning glance before softening, “Alright, then. As long as we are clear on that…”

There was a long beat of silence during which Guillermo found himself locked inside his master’s gaze. Nandor’s eyes were like pools of rich, melted chocolate. Guillermo imagined himself as the German kid from Willy Wonka and for a second he was in danger of breaking down into giggles. But then his master spoke in that soft, uncertain tone he only used when they were alone and he was feeling fragile.

“Guillermo...did you really vote for me to be the number one hottest vampire?” Nandor toyed with the buttons on his shirt and looked up at his familiar with a shy, open expression.

Guillermo’s cheeks burned and he wanted to laugh and hide and kiss his master on the mouth all at once.

“Yes, master, I did. You’re…” he cleared his throat and tightened his grip on the lip of the coffin, “so handsome, master. So beautiful...”

He watched his master’s chest expand with pride and his lips twitch into a haughty smirk. 

“That’s true, Guillermo. Good job for noticing,” Nandor praised him in a voice that was a little too loud. It rang with a false sense of self-assurance. After a few seconds he went on in a quieter tone, “Do you know, I--this is very silly, Guillermo, you mustn't tell anyone this--I voted for you, too. As the hottest familiar…”

Guillermo’s stomach did a little swoop and his lips curved into a blinding smile. His dumb, beautiful master thought he was attractive? Guillermo tried to reel himself in; he tried to remind himself that Nandor probably only voted for him to boost his own reputation. But--wait?--hadn’t the list been meant as a revenge against Guillermo? God, what a handsome idiot.

“Thank you, master,” Guillermo gushed and now he was certain that Nandor’s eyes strayed too long on his smiling lips and red, dimpled cheeks. 

“Alright then!” Nandor pulled the emergency break on the moment. “Time for my evil slumber. Night night, Guillermo!”

And in a slow motion moment that would feature in Guillermo’s dreams that night, Nandor reached up and put his hand over his. Nandor’s cool, smooth palm rubbed over the back of Guillermo’s warm hand and his fingers squeezed slightly. The breath rushed from Guillermo’s lungs and he could only squeak in reply, shutting his master into his coffin and moving away with a dazed smile on his face.

A muffled sound came from the coffin just as Guillermo reached the door to the crypt.

“...And I don’t think of you as a poodle…”

“What was that, master?” Guillermo called.

“Nothing, Guillermo!”

Guillermo shuffled off to his little room feeling like he was carrying a happy little flame inside his chest. For once he gave himself permission to hope without fearing disappointment.

---

New NYC Familiars Group! #thirsty

Celest-is-Best: SORRY NOT SORRY!!!! Simon can get it…

blood_princess: ummmm thirst after your own master, Celeste. Oops sorry she’s 12.

mish-bish: Lmaooo. Gross Celeste!

Celeste-is-Best: listen.

Celeste-is-Best: ...i got nothin. I want his evil dick.

…

Gigi the great: Please look respectfully at this photo I snuck of my master the other night. Do I really need to explain myself further???

Celeste-is-Best: that’s it. guillermo, ask nandor if he needs another familiar. my body is ready!

Gigi the great: Back off, bitch!!!!

Gigi the great: jk love u

Gigi the great: but srsly back off

#master-shaming

mish-bish: submitted without comment

[Imurdad | colby, Gigi the great, Sam teh Cat, and 6 others like this]

...

Gigi the great: 🙄🙄🙄

Gigi the great: I hate him I love him

#main

black-peterrr: ohohoho, has anyone talked to Guillermo lately…..?

black-peterrr: a little raven told me he and Nandor were seen HOLDING HANDS in the park the other night…

call-me-karen: WHATTTTTTTT

Celeste-is-Best: @Gigi the great, CONFIRM OR DENY!! GIIIIIGIIII!

Gigi the great: ……...I don’t kiss and tell 😉

Imurdad | colby pinned a post

Imurdad | colby: This is momentous.

#memes

Gigi the great: hot take…

Imurdad | colby: bahahaha, okay…

Imurdad | colby: 

Gigi the great: But have you considered…

Imurdad | colby: lol compelling

Call-me-karen: I mean…..👀

Celeste-is-Best: Ha...ha...ha…*sob*

Direct Messages

Celeste-is-Best: Gigi! we miss you! ur never online lately... 

Celeste-is-Best: too busy getting that ottoman empire dick, huhhh??

Gigi the great: OMG Celeste! You’re out of control!

Celeste-is-Best: that wasn’t a denial…

#main

Gigi the great: Hey guys...sorry I haven’t been active lately

Gigi the great: Quick update though....

GIgi the great:

blood_princess: OSDFJweoiflkdfaf omgggggg gggggiiiiiiigiigigig!!!!!!

Jameson: Holy shit, man. Congrats.

Celeste-is-Best: GuillerrrrrrrrrrrmmmmmmooooooOooooO!O my baby! you look amazing!

call-me-karen: DO YOU NEED A FAMILIAR!!?!?!?!?

Celeste-is-Best: jesus, karen lol

blood_princess: my master is having an orgy right now. I just locked myself in the bathroom--I’M FREAKING OUT!! What is it like? IS that blood on your collar??? OMG how was ur first feeding?

Imurdad | colby: FAMILIARS ONLY, GUILLERMO!!

Imurdad | colby: I’m kidding. OMG I’m so happy for you! (And burning with jealous rage)

Celeste-is-Best: look how fucking happy Nandor is

Celeste-is-Best: i’ve been shipping you two from the beginning, Gigi!

Celeste-is-Best: …..hope you’re not going to forget who helped you out with those virgins last month…

---

“Guillermo!” Nandor’s voice was half whine, half growl. “It’s very difficult to sleep with that light filling the coffin! What are you doing anyway?”

The screen illuminated Guillermo’s grin as he answered, “Just posted that selfie we took to the familiar chat. They’re freaking out.”

Nandor turned onto his side, nuzzling his face into Guillermo’s neck and tickling him with his beard, “That’s nice. Sleepy time now, Guillermo.” 

“Yes, master,” Guillermo breathed and Nandor purred low in his chest. Some things had changed since becoming a vampire and others had stayed the same. Calling Nandor “master” had taken on a new, thrilling subtext.

Nandor’s arms snaked around Guillermo, tugging the smaller vampire into his chest. He let out a contented sigh and his body went still as he began to fall asleep.

“I guess I should probably leave the group,” Guillermo yawned--force of habit. “Since I’m not a familiar anymore.”

Nandor wrenched himself from sleep with the power of his own petulance, “Hey! What do you mean ‘not a familiar anymore’? Just because a guy gives his boyfriend the gift of eternal life he thinks he can quit being his familiar!? Who’s going to brush my hair?! ‘Not a familiar anymore’...fucking guy…”

[imagineredwood]

Request: Imagine the Sons learn that a new patch is on the Autism Spectrum.

Pairing: Sons x Male reader (platonic)

Warnings/author’s note: I sat on this request forever. I tried to keep it relatively simple because those who are on the Spectrum can be so different and never fit a mold and I worried it would be easy to accidentally go off in a direction not where the reader actually was. I never got specifics from the person who requested so I used my own judgment and figured that he would likely have less severe manifestations that would be clear as to what he has or would’ve possibly prevented him from being patched in in the first place. I’ve dealt with people on the spectrum that you don’t know until they tell you and then there’s my cousin who basically ticks every box of what society sees as a stereotypical autistic person down to the hand/arm flailing. So I tried to make this one with a common manifestation in hopes that it was more inclusive. 

Huge thanks to the precious @breanime who gave me the plot for this because I really was struggling with this one. Thanks again mama ❤️

Word count:1.4k

 “Alright. If we’re all in agreement, let's get this shit on the road.”

Jax grabbed the gavel and raised it up, your shoulders quickly tensing in anticipation as the hammer was held high. Jax began to bring it down and as much as you tried to prepare for it, tried to control your face and not let the discomfort show, it was to no avail. As the harsh hit sounded, you flinched as if you hadn’t been ready for it. You recovered quickly, clearing your throat and trying to shake it off, your eyes catching Juice and Chibs from across the table. Chibs looked away back to the president but Juice stayed. His eyes were on you, a curious look on his face that was quickly erased and replaced with a smile once he saw you looking at him. You returned the smile, Juice being one of the Sons you were closer to. 

Even if he didn’t know about your disorder, you had always been able to relate with him more. You knew about his OCD, pretty much everyone in the club did. It was just a part of who he and it was never a topic for discussion. It was just an aspect of a member that made him a little different than everyone else. It wasn’t seen as a bad thing and you could only hope that when you finally came out and told them you were on the spectrum, they would view it and you the same. You were a good Son and had earned your patch just like anyone else. You had overcome cleaning toilets and kitchens, doing grunt work while everyone else got to enjoy their time. You had overcome that all and had earned your patch. Now the last hurdle was overcoming that godforsaken gavel and the hellish noise that came with it.

Everyone scooted back their chairs and stood from the table, starting to file out of the chapel and back into the main area of the clubhouse. Juice came up behind you and clapped you on the back, tossing an arm around your shoulders. Even if Jax was your sponsor, Juice was the one that had made you feel like a brother before everyone else.

“How you doing man? You good?”

You grinned and nodded, throwing your own arm around him.

“Good as ever, brother.”

Juice nodded once again and patted your back twice before pulling away.

“Jax said he wants you to ride down to Lodi with him and Chibs.”

“Got it.”

You nodded in acknowledgment and started to head out of the clubhouse. Chibs and Juice walked slowly, purposefully falling behind so that they could speak. Once they know you were far enough out of earshot, Juice spoke.

“Did you see it?”

The older Son nodding and looking over at Juice.

“Aye. He hates that gavel like Tiggy hates dolls.”

Juice nodded, happy that Chibs had paid attention like he had asked. Juice had noticed two weeks ago about your aversion to the gavel slamming but he knew that no one else had. Ever the observer, Juice had made it a point to pay even closer attention after and had verified that the sound of the gavel was something that got under the new patched skin like nothing else. There was such discomfort in his face for that split second after that it almost appeared like he was in physical pain. Juice had asked Chibs to pay attention in church next time and now he had seen it too.

“The lad looks like he wishes he could just up and leave the chapel. Maybe he’s got PTSD or something and those noises get under his skin.”

Chibs and Juice continued to walk, getting closer to their bikes and Chibs pushed his shoulder into Juice’s.

“I’ll talk to Jackie boy, see if I can get him to ease up on the gavel. Lord knows that shite gives me a headache as it is.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

Later that day, Chibs had spoken to Jax as he’s said he would and run their observations by the Pres. As the week went on, Jax had remembered to bring it down much more softly. It wasn’t nearly as loud as it usually was, but Jax had made it a point to watch and sure enough, even with the much lighter approach you still flinched. Afterward, both Chibs and Juice had agreed that it had been much less intense, the look of panic not as pronounced. Jax took note and the next time they’d had church, he had basically tapped the stand as if he was just trying to squish an ant. The truth was, it was more the motion and action of bringing down the gavel that held the importance, not the loudness. Jax was much gentler and he kept watch that time, pleased that there was only the tiniest squint of your eyes. Practically unnoticeable unless you were looking for it. You caught his eyes, realizing what he was doing and gave a half-smile, the President returning it.

As time went on, the Sons made it a point to change what they could. They adjusted as necessary so that there wasn’t as much sensory input. Unnecessary slamming of doors stopped, the strobe light in the corner that they sometimes put on during parties was taken to storage, and they were careful to step in whenever too many people wanted to approach you and talk at once. They did what they could to help you, never once showing any irritation and never asking you about why you reacted to things the way that you did. They simply adjusted to make sure that their new brother was comfortable and comfortable you were. You hadn’t experienced any sensory overload the entire month and with the reminder about church tonight, you had pulled Jax to the side and asked if you could speak to everyone once church was over. Jax had agreed and now here you were, sitting in your chair at the table.

“Now before we wrap up, our newest member has something he wants to say.”

Their eyes all turned to you and suddenly you wondered if this was a bad idea. You hadn’t accounted for how it would feel being the complete center of attention and you stumbled.

“Uh, yeah. I uh…I just wanted to,”

You swallowed and looked to Juice who gave you a strong nod and smile. He didn’t know what it was that you were going to say but he offered you strength anyway and you took it.

“I assume you all have talked to each other about how I don’t like loud sudden noises. I can tell that you’ve all tried to bring it to a minimum.”

The members around the table all nodded, no judgment on their faces, simply curiosity.

“I appreciate it. I do, really. Loud noises and light changes just mess with me and I know that you guys have gotten a handle on it for me, but you don’t really know why.”

You looked around and your eyes landed on Jax who had his brows furrowed, equally as curious about what you were going to say as any of his other men sitting around him.

“You can tell us.”

You gave a nod and figured it would be easier to just get it out rather than continuing your preamble.

“I have Autism Spectrum Disorder. It’s a developmental thing. I won’t get all into it but that’s why I can’t stand sudden changes in my senses. It just throws me off. But that’s why.  Its…it’s the Autism.”

All the Sons at the table nodded, looks of understanding on their faces now as they were able to put a reason to the behavior. Looking over, you saw Juice with a smile, offering a small thumbs up. You chuckled and gave him a thumbs up yourself, looking back over at Jax when he began to speak.

“Well thank you for telling us. It doesn’t matter to us, we just wanted to make sure you felt as comfortable here as the rest of us. Knowing this now, we can figure out what works and what doesn’t to make things easier. You’re our brother and a damn good Son. We’re gonna look out for you no matter what.”

There were smiles all around the table as Jax gently banged the gavel and everyone stood, offering you strong hugs. They welcomed you in your entirety into their club, lives, and hearts and made sure you knew that you were up to par with the rest of them. They loved you as a brother not despite your disorder, but because it made you who you were, the newest member of the family.

[mzenvs3000]

So does this make me an interpreter now?

If I am honest, I feel I have had a love hate relationship with this course over this semester. Coming from a more scientific background, I have found it slightly difficult to find the motivation to write and put together “my thoughts” on the topics we discuss in class. I am so used to having explicit facts and having to write about those from a scientific approach, so trying to put together a post about my thoughts with such freedom has been a challenge. I have appreciated though throughout the semester how writing got a bit easier, and that we were able to talk on subjects that were interesting to us. I will definitely be taking some skills away from my time in this course.

One of many photos taken of water and rocks (Lake Ontario) as it is another huge love of mine. Photo taken by myself.

Like many who are taking part in this class have a love for nature, and are probably coming from a major with some type of nature encompassed in it. This is true in my case, as I am a wildlife biology and conservation student. Wildlife biology and conservation is just one side of my love for nature. Others include marine studies, geology, and  geography/landforms. This would open up so many doors in the nature interpretation field for me. I also have passion for the care and protection of animals, species at risk, climate change, plastic pollution, and how humans interact with nature in their everyday lives, similar to Jacob Rodenburg who wrote the article, “Why Environmental Educators Shouldn’t Give up Hope.”

A shell fossil found in a rock at the Elora Gorge while on a field trip with my geography class in third year. We were trying to interpret the history of the area, guessing it was a marine environment from all of the marine fossils found in the rocks. Photo taken by myself. 

As an interpreter, I feel there is a certain responsibility I have when working with an audience. The first responsibility being the need to deliver creditable information that your audience can trust. This struck me as important when we were learning about nature interpretation in history. This is something I always seek out when learning about different things because I want to make sure what I’m learning is true and has some merit behind it.

I took my Alberta friend on a Hamilton waterfall tour as she did not believe me when I told her Hamilton was the waterfall capital of the world. An example of one of my first “interpretation tours.” (She was impressed). Photo taken by Jenna Stetz.

Another important responsibility is for the interpreter to put their own spin on their presentation and make it personal. I have lost count of the number of presentations I’ve had to listen to when someone is just reading off of a slide or a card. I don’t know about you, but I feel like when I hear these kinds of presentations, the presenter doesn’t really care too much and doesn’t seem to care if their audience gets a good experience or not. I always learn better and pay attention the most if someone shares a personal story that relates to the content. An example of this was recently I was in a course that was preparing me to apply to be a fire ranger this summer. I could instantly tell that my instructor was passionate about his job as a fire ranger with the number of stories he would tell. One story was to emphasize the importance of safety. He told the story about him and two other crew members messing around while chopping down some small trees to kill time, and they made a competition around it. His crew leader decided to take part and wasn’t paying attention and ended up getting an axe in his shin. He made this boring 2 hour long safety module more interesting and engaging by telling this story. When putting your own spin on it, it allows the audience to engage much more, as well as being relatable.

One last responsibility I feel is of importance is that as interpreters we have almost like a duty to pass on knowledge of certain things, not allowing them to be forgotten about. I take great pride in this, knowing that I might have an influence on the future “me’s” one day to share this information with others. We have to remember we are not just passing on knowledge of the environment and nature, but also cultural beliefs and practices too. I mentioned in a previous post about how it is important to learn from the past, and we cannot do this unless we actually know what happened in the past. I personally love just even sharing my scientific and nature knowledge with my friends and family who do not have this as a background, and take pride in the fact that I am able to help educate them on this subject.

Photo of my mom and I at the cottage, as she is making sure I was exposed to the outdoors as early as possible. Photo taken by my dad, Dave Zarnke.

An approach that I would make sure to include in my interpretation is to be able to share with a diverse audience. This would include different age categories, different cultural backgrounds, different knowledge backgrounds and understanding on the subject, as well as learning styles that people possess. This is important to consider because knowing these different factors would affect how you would conduct the presentation to make it the most effective. With different ages there is a different level of understanding so when I would present something to a younger audience, I would make sure to use lots of examples and simple terms they could easily understand, compared to an older audience where I could potentially use more complex terms and concepts. Knowing the cultural and knowledge backgrounds may also determine the content you wish to speak on and the approach you take.

Personally I am a visual and tactile learner, and find it easiest to teach and interpret in this way. During an interpretation I would probably include many visual aids such as photos, videos, and live models to share with the audience. I would encourage the audience to take part in demonstrations and actively participate throughout the presentation. I have also found that through my school life I learn best when examples are given, or thought provoking questions are asked. When information is presented in this way it helps me to compare an example to real life and make those connections, and the thought provoking questions challenge me to take time to digest and organize all that I have learned to put it all together.

Something I think that may set me a part from many interpreters is what I believe and my faith. I am a christian (and like to think of myself as a christian scientist) which can be quite difficult at some times trying to study my major in a secular setting due to different beliefs. The main one would be how the world was created. I believe that there is one true God who created this world, everything in it, and the species we see today are the same and looked the same when the world was created 6000 years ago. This belief and faith of mine plays a huge role in my life, influencing most and if not all of my decisions, so it would be important to me to include this in my interpretations. I would not share or teach others something that I don’t believe in. This would probably lead to me interpreting to a different audience or have a different approach in my interpretations as these beliefs are not the same as what secular science believes and teaches, as well as most organizations. If this were to be a career of mine I would have to work for an organization whose beliefs are the same.

Photo of the Oakville waterfront taken from a walk with friends one afternoon after church. Photo taken by myself. 

I believe that as an interpreter, I would ensure to create programs specifically directed towards kids because I have experienced the benefits of taking part in these programs personally. We have learned a bit about how technology is a double edged sword. On one hand, it can be a great tool for nature interpretation, playing sounds, videos, or even in our case currently creating podcasts we can share over the internet. The downfall is that they are also causing people and especially kids to be very disconnected these days. I have lost count the number of times I will see kids with their parents just out and about, completely ignoring their parents just fully consumed in what is on their screen, and these kids are as young as even four years old. I didn’t know what a computer was til I was way older than that, and never received one myself until even later. I think it is so important to raise awareness of these environmental issues to kids and get them involved so they gain interest early in life and can be a part of the solution for their generation.

Before this course I really never pictured myself ever leading an interpretation or even writing about nature as I am more of a research oriented person and not so much as a writer. Taking the time I have to write this post and reflect on what this could look like for me really opened my eyes and allowed me to picture myself actually do this. I reflected back to many memories when I was growing up and took part in nature interpretations as a kid (and honestly never made the connection that I was taking part in an interpretation), just emphasizing one of my points about the importance of getting kids involved. I think nature interpretation can be for anyone to take part in, either leading or listening as we all see things differently with a different lens. This has been a great opportunity and I will definitely be taking these skills I’ve learned with me as I continue in my own nature interpretation.

[lazywitchling]

You know what’s scary? I came to tumblr in the height of fandom blog vs hipster blog, when superwholock was first getting started, before Disney had a choke hold on the entertainment industry, back when it was fun to get really really into tv shows and base our whole personality on what media we consumed. Looking back on it, it was... not a great way to be, but goddamn did it save me.

Not like in a dramatic “saved my life” way, but I mean.

I could go back on my main blog and find my pro-republican posts. I could find my anti-trans posts and my “well okay, gay people can be gay at home, but I don’t want them out where I can see them.” I could find those. They’re back there, years ago in my archive. Because that’s all I knew. That’s all I heard. My community - I mean my real life one, my local area, my friends, my church group, everything around me - is very... monoculture. There aren’t a lot of people around here who don’t look like me, have the same economic background as me, raised in the same beliefs I was... it’s just a whole lot of carbon copies of me. So I thought... “ew, how can someone be gay? That’s gross. They’re going to go to hell.” Because what the hell else would I think? That’s all I knew! And I thought “that boy wants to be a girl? What’s wrong with him? He should see a doctor.” And I thought “why do some people not go to work and the government just pays for them to eat? That’s not right. They shouldn’t be lazy like that.”

And then fuckin’ fandom. It wasn’t fandom directly, but when I got really into a show, I’d follow so many blogs that posted about it. Fan art, discussions, gifs, episode recaps, ask blogs... and inevitably, some of those blogs would drop the occasional political post. Mostly about how we needed marriage equality in the USA. And I thought “well. I don’t agree with that, but their fandom content is good, so I won’t unfollow them.”

It’s how I got exposed to more and more people. People who didn’t think like me. People who didn’t think like my parents. And they weren’t just political posts, sometimes it was just blogging. An artist I like would post about finally getting started on T. He was so happy that he was finally getting T. And I started to think things like “well, she— I mean, he sounds happy. So I’m happy for... him.”

More people. More stories. And I slowly stopped thinking about other people as political issues or religious problems, but as just... people who were trying to live their lives.

It was slow, and it was rocky. I still participated in church discussions that involved phrases like “hate the sin but love the sinner”. It made sense... until college, when I was face to face with people who weren’t like me. Looking at the man in my theatre troupe who was talking about his partner, I couldn’t make the “hate the sin, love the sinner” mentality work. I just couldn’t. I knew I was supposed to, but I just knew that trying to say “he’s a good person, but he just needs to stop being gay” didn’t work at all. I couldn’t hate what he was without hating who he was. And I just couldn’t, because he was my friend, dammit!

Marriage equality passed. My Facebook feed turned into the proverbial wailing and clothes-tearing from my church friends. And I very slowly... very quietly... started to post the “let’s remember that we shouldn’t hate other people” stuff. The very subtle nudging, still Christian-focused stuff that was juuuuust starting to lean left. Not too over the top, not overtly in support, because I was supposed to be one of them, a member of the church, I had to play along with the mentality.

Playing along got exhausting. Someone would deadname Caitlyn Jenner, and I’d consider for a moment that I should just let it go, that I should just pretend that it was fine. But... what about my artist friend? Would I be okay with someone deadnaming him? No, I would not. And if I was pretending I was onboard with deadnaming Caitlyn, would I have played along with deadnaming my friend? Just so I could fit in and be comfortable? So I corrected them. Her name is Caitlyn.

I learned to listen to more people. I learned why “I don’t see color” wasn’t as good a mentality to have as I thought. I learned that “feminist” wasn’t a dirty word, and it also didn’t mean what I thought it meant. I slowly learned that I was one. I slowly learned, and still learn, how to further expand all the things that covers. I learned about intersectional feminism. I learned about white privilege. I learned about so much and so many people because I was actively listening to them, I was hearing their stories, and I cared about them, wanted them to have good lives, wanted them to be able to make choices about their own lives without people like me saying “I know better.”

I learned about myself, too. At twenty-six years old, I figured out exactly why I was always so baffled when my friends talked about sex like it was this big important thing. Surprise: asexual. A second surprise a few years later: somewhere on the aromantic spectrum as well. (Where? Idk. I’ll tell you when I figure it out myself.)

The point is... it was less than a decade ago that I was exactly the type of bigot that gets chased off everyone’s blogs. I was the everything-phobe, the one who would specifically vote against any type of aid, because bootstraps, amiright? I was a whole-ass bigot. Bitch, I owned a confederate flag ring, and I’ve never lived in the south. (It’s in a landfill somewhere now.) I only learned because I first heard from people not like me, and then I learned to listen. I participated in communities that were diverse, not because I wanted the diversity, but because I wanted the content. The diversity was a side effect. And it’s what saved me.

And it fucking terrifies me how close I could have been to being some alt-right and/or terf radical new-nazi or whatever. Because if I had got on this site about two years later than I did, I’d have been caught right in that echo chamber of radfems and nazis preying on anyone they can get their talons in. I was so close. And now I see these radfems pop up in my notes, and it’s like... that could have been me. That was me at one point. I had the ideology, I just missed the identity of it all by a few years.

I don’t have a “byf” list on my blog for a reason. I don’t go through my followers and weed out the terfs and the nazis and the bigots. If they’re in there, fine. I want them to see my words. I want them to hear from someone who doesn’t think like them. I want them to hear from someone who used to be like them, but then learned (and is always learning) to be better.

And yet when I see them in my notes, I’m obliged to weed them out. I feel guilty when it’s a young girl who has clearly been targeted by the radfems on this site, teaching her that she’ll be stronger if she hates everyone they tell her to. Of all the people on this site, she’s the one who I most want to keep out of the echo chamber. But I also have a responsibility to make sure the people who follow me, the people who I follow and reblog from, don’t get caught by the shrapnel. A radfem liking my post just means I have to pay closer attention to what I say and make sure I don’t fall back on old mentalities. It keeps me accountable. But a radfem in my notes means she’s in the notes of my friends, in my reblog chains. And it is my responsibility not to turn a blind eye when people around me can get hurt.

But goddamn, if ever there was someone who needed a community outside of that circle of bigotry, it’s that fourteen year old girl who proudly calls herself a terf. And I really hope she finds one. I really do.

[potatocrab]

Salvation is a Last Minute Business (14/18)

Chapter 14: A Face and a Number

After a few weeks of preparation, Nick, Madelyn, and Deacon make their way to Fort Hagen undercover, searching for information on their suspect. At the agency, the group is joined by Piper and Hancock to discuss their findings. Madelyn makes a solo, impromptu visit to Concord. Later, at her apartment, Madelyn is faced with the realization that this time, she may have dug too deep.

“To me, you're a face and a number, and let's keep it that way.” - Cody Jarrett as played by James Cagney (White Heat, 1949)

[read on Ao3] x  [chapter masterpost] 

Just south of Concord, situated between the highway to the east and the hills to the west, was Fort Hagen, a sprawling command center for the United States Armed Forces. The military base was a township in itself—amongst the soldier’s barracks and administration buildings was a gas station, medical clinic, corner grocer, preschool and playground. But this wasn’t like any other town or city in Boston that could be visited while on a scenic drive-by. The satellite arrays, relay towers and other military equipment required the upmost of security measures. One did not simply walk into Fort Hagen.

As much as Nick wanted to storm the gates and follow-up on the lead they had discovered while snooping around Kellogg’s apartment, that was a sure-fire way to find himself locked up in a military prison. No amount of Madelyn’s charm or connections at city-hall would get the detective out of a court martial. And so, the two spent nearly two weeks carefully researching and organizing, coming up with the perfect plan that would get them onto the well-fortified base. A few weeks was nothing in comparison to how long the Eddie Winter investigation dragged on—they knew how to be patient.

Piper was still busy hunting down anything and everything she could about the Institute, so Madelyn and Nick made use of the rest of their resources and contacts throughout the city. MacCready had sweet-talked his way to receiving blueprints of the fort from the registrar’s office downtown. Like most of the files they had, it was heavily redacted, but still provided some clarity on what the two might find inside—if they ever got a chance. Preston and his so-called Minutemen monitored the Parkview Apartments in case Kellogg decided to make an impromptu visit. It was a longshot, but Nick didn’t want to take the risk in allowing the elusive man to slip through anybody’s fingers if there was even the slightest chance he could be caught.

Meanwhile, Madelyn and Nick poured over their case-notes and files, working in tandem with Tinker Tom who had continued to decode and reconfigure redacted report from Railroad cache sights. It was a slow process that ultimately yielded nothing the agency didn’t already know about Fort Hagen or their investigation. A breakthrough didn’t come through until Deacon revealed he’d gone through the old Switchboard files and discovered long-forgotten Defense Intelligence Agency clearances. At first the credentials seemed too good to be true—tucked away in some catacomb just waiting to be found at the opportune time—but Madelyn wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. They had their saving grace—all the more fitting that it was found in the basement of a (mostly) abandoned church.

That’s when the real planning started.

Even though the DIA wasn’t technically part of the military, they still belonged to the Department of Defense—the credentials were sure to get them past the security checkpoints at Fort Hagen. All they needed was a plausible reason for being there. Seeing that he was a master of disguise and skilled in the art of lying, Deacon was tasked in creating their personas and cover-stories, while Tinker Tom worked on updating the clearances to match their profiles. It was collectively decided that the best time for their visit would be right before Decoration Day, with the theory the base would be scant of soldiers, the top brass busy with coordinating celebrations elsewhere. The entire operation was full of unknowns and would require a healthy mix of luck and skill to navigate the variables. But this was their only shot if they wanted answers—only time would tell if their plan would work.

May 29th, 1958

Madelyn could tell from her spot in the backseat of Nick’s Cadillac that the detective wasn’t entirely pleased with his role in what Deacon had dubbed Operation ‘Lapins de la Mort’—jaw set tight and gloved hands gripping the steering wheel tight as he drove the trio west towards Fort Hagen.

“Remind me again,” he began in a measured tone. “Why I’m being ousted from my own investigation?”

Perhaps Nick was being a little over dramatic—he wasn’t being removed from the case, but he didn’t necessarily have a starring part in the grand scheme of their undercover operation. Simply put—he was the driver—the go man in the getaway car, on standby in case anything went awry. Safe to say he wasn’t happy about being resigned to wait around while Madelyn and Deacon snooped around inside the facility.

“No offense Valentine,” the Railroad spy mused from the passenger seat. “But since you won’t even try to wear a disguise, you’ll only stick out like a sore thumb.”

Deacon wasn’t wrong. Madelyn glanced up through the rearview mirror to observe Nick’s appearance—his stubble had grown out in the last week and a half, and for once, he’d swapped his tattered fedora and trench coat for a newer, cleaner set. But any Bostonian with a brain and a recent copy of the Boston Bugle or Publick Occurrences would likely be able to recognize him as the hardboiled detective that took Eddie Winter down. Not to say Madelyn hadn’t had her fair share of recognition lately, but it had always been easier for her to blend into the background as Nick’s nameless partner—the broad—she only hoped it would benefit her that day. That, and the long, brunette wig and glasses would help disguise her features.

She was also trying to settle into her undercover identity, chosen to play the part of a DIA investigator, who travelled between military sites to inspect operations and ensure they were running smoothly. Deacon—with a differently styled wig and his signature shades—would act as her second-hand-man. At first, she thought it would be better if their roles were reversed—he was the better liar and showman by far. She was reminded then, that she possessed what neither of her partners did—female persuasion. Madelyn would need to rely on all her skills in order to be successful—litigation, intrigue, investigation, and a whole lot of charm.

“This plan of yours better work,” Nick muttered as he turned down the private road towards the Fort Hagen security checkpoint.

“Our plan,” Deacon corrected, reaching up to adjust his tie. “Little late to start having doubts. I had you pegged as a man of faith.”

“I used to be.”

While Nick’s somber tone worried Madelyn, she didn’t have time to console him the Cadillac slowed, compelled to stop as they were flagged down by an approaching soldier. Another watched the exchange from a small, but well-fortified building, and his expression made it clear he had no intention on raising the barricade—not without knowing their business first.

“This is a secure area,” the armed soldier expressed as soon as Nick rolled down his window. Madelyn peered through the glass to see the name-patch and insignia on his uniform—Specialist Rhys. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to turn around and leave. Immediately.”

Deacon leaned over to address the man on the driver’s side. “Don’t you recognize a DIA agent when you see one?”

He wiggled his badge for the soldier, who bent in to try to get a better look at both his and Nick’s credentials. Madelyn straightened in her spot, attempting to look as dignified and important as she thought a government agent should.

“Just got in from DC this morning,” Deacon continued. “Hagen is our first stop today, best not to keep us waiting. Miss Kitty doesn’t like to be late.”

Madelyn gave Specialist Rhys a pointed look for good measure when he glanced to the back seat, and just as quickly diverted his gaze away. Still, the soldier didn’t look wholly convinced.

“We don’t have any scheduled visits for today, on account of the Decoration Day preparations,” he explained, looking over a logbook on a clipboard. “Are you sure you’re at the right facility?”

“Are we at the right facility, he says…” Deacon mumbled, lightly tapping Nick on the shoulder in mock amusement, though the detective was clearly on edge, eager to get moving. “That’s the thing about the DIA, we like our secrets and surprises. Like to keep the rest of you army types on your toes—”

Nick made an uncomfortable sound—something between clearing his throat and a groan—hinting that he was growing increasingly frustrated by Deacon’s posturing. Madelyn remained silent, only wishing he’d had the chance to see the spy in action prior to this little excursion—maybe then he wouldn’t be so anxious. The Railroad didn’t call him the best for nothing. Before anybody could speak, Specialist Rhys signaled back to the man standing guard in the building, and the road gate lifted.

“Sorry about the confusion, sir,” he nodded, pointing up the path. “We’ll radio ahead to have a delegation meet you at the command post in front of the main building.”

Deacon flashed a beaming grin. “Thank you kindly! I’ll be sure to put in a good word back at—”

The car lurched forward as Nick pressed on the gas, causing Deacon to tumble back to the passenger side. The detective let out a soft chuckle, and Madelyn had to hide her own amusement. “Don’t want Miss Kitty to be late.”

The streets and buildings of the Fort Hagen military base were already lined with Decoration Day fanfare—banners of red, white, and blue, flags waving on every lawn and from every storefront post. Between the many ribbons, streamers and balloons, however, was a noticeable lack of military personnel—dismissed for the holiday weekend or sent to other sites in preparation for the next day’s events. Madelyn knew it was tradition for soldiers to plant flags on the gravesites of former soldiers, and she couldn’t help but wonder if they’d leave one for Nate. A sobering feeling washed over her as she thought about finally visiting the Concord cemetery where he was buried, but the idea fell away as quickly as it materialized. She didn’t have time to be melancholy when they had a job to do.

As they pulled up to the command post outside the main building, it was clear that delegation meant two, well dressed, uniformed men. Their attire and insignia signified that they weren’t the average enlisted private, either. Nick pulled up to the designated spot along the curbside and released a sigh.

“Here goes nothing.”

Deacon and Nick exited the car in near synchronization, the detective rounding the vehicle to meet the spy as he opened the back door for Madelyn to step out. She silently thanked the two with a polite nod, steadying her composure as she approached the waiting soldiers, gripping the briefcase in her hand tightly as if to ground herself. There was a slight hesitation, as she nearly defaulted to a handshake before remembering to salute.

“Special Agent Catherine James of the Defense Intelligence Agency,” she flashed a demure smile. “Gentlemen.”

“Colonel Kells,” the man in dress uniform introduced himself, extending his arm for a handshake—finally a gesture something she was used to. He politely motioned to the taller man standing to his left. “This is Lieutenant Colonel Danse. To what do we owe the pleasure of such a visit?”

Madelyn could sense the tension in his tone, but it was filled with more irritation than suspicion as he eyed both her and the men she’d arrived with. She continued to smile, not wanting to waver or show weakness. “You know as well as I do that the government doesn’t hand out grants without proper inspection. We like our ducks shiny and all in a row, so to speak. And what better way to ensure everything is running smoothly than to show up when you least suspect it?”

“In war, the enemy never gives you a fair warning,” she added, with a wink.

While the Lieutenant seemed taken aback, nervously glancing away from her face, Colonel Kells appeared impressed. “Right you are.”

“As you can tell, we are in the middle of Decoration Day preparations,” he further explained. “You’ll have to forgive my absence, but I’m needed elsewhere. Lieutenant Danse will escort you through the premises and answer any questions you may have.”

Without further clarification, Colonel Kells saluted the Lieutenant. “Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir,” he answered, copying his superior’s actions.

The Colonel silently nodded to Madelyn before walking away to his own escort, and she didn’t dare to move or say anything until the officer’s vehicle was moving away from the outpost. She turned to face Lieutenant Danse, offering her hand in greeting. The man was tall, husky—built like a damn wall—fitting for the United States Army. With dark hair and dark eyes, he was handsome too, all the more easy to charm. But with the Colonel gone, his expression had shifted, and he eyed her with much more skepticism than before—she’d need to change that, fast.

“Agent James was it?” he asked, one eyebrow arced high. He reluctantly shook her hand, as to not appear rude, but she could tell he wasn’t completely comfortable with the action. Madelyn wondered if it had to do with her sex rather than her presence—something she could use to her advantage. What was it with military men and being unable to act rational around women?

“You can call me Kitty,” she grinned, letting his hand go as she noted the subtle flush of embarrassment on his face. She turned towards the waiting duo just a few feet away. “Agent Johnson will join us,” she gestured to Deacon, who was already hiding his amusement at the names he had chosen. She almost dared to go off script, just to spite him for being so smug.  “Agent Johnson will monitor the perimeter.”

Nick barely maintained his composure, sighing at the Lieutenant’s brief confusion. “No relation.”

“Right,” Lieutenant Danse answered, clearing his throat. “If you’ll follow me. We’ll make our way through the visitor’s center to the main offices.”

Madelyn shared once last glance with Nick, who stared back, expression stuck between a pout and a scowl—he wouldn’t be happy until she returned, evidence in hand. She only hoped the fort actually held the secrets they were after.

The interior of Fort Hagen was not unlike the Switchboard—a state of the art government facility, technology tailored for the times and to their specific branch of the military, albeit functioning and filled with a moderate amount of personnel, even with the approaching holiday. As Lieutenant Danse led Madelyn and Deacon through the halls of desks and offices, she kept a careful eye out for anything out of the ordinary, or anybody familiar. A shiver ran up her spine as she thought about the probability of running into Kellogg himself.

“Is there anything in particular you wish to observe during your visit?” Lieutenant Danse asked, his voice pulling her back to reality.

She scanned the room, pretending to observe the military staff with a keen eye, silently nodding to Deacon as if it was part of their secret code. It was and wasn’t at the same time, mostly used to confuse their guide. Madelyn knew they needed to play their cards carefully. Ask for the goods too soon, and the jig was up—she didn’t want to think of the consequences.

“Can you give me an update on daily operations?” she questioned, looking back to the Lieutenant. He was carefully watching her movements, hands clasped behind his back. “Our last report showed this facility was performing live training with protectrons in accordance to military contracts with RobCo.”

“That is still accurate, ma’am,” he answered with a firm nod. “The robots Mister House provided may move slower than your average soldier, but they certainly pack a harder punch.”

Madelyn raised a curious brow at his phrasing. “Concerned about being replaced by technology, Lieutenant?”

“N—no, ma’am,” he hesitated in answering, turning away as he led on through the offices to an observatory area. Below, army specialists were hunched over a spread of diagrams and blueprints, the charts too far away to discern.

She tilted her head, thinking back to the dossier Tinker Tom had compiled based on all the information he’d been able to drudge up on the fort’s activities. “And here I thought we’d stopped production on MK-1 turrets.”

“We have,” Lieutenant Danse confirmed, his eyes darting across the various people through the tinted glass. “Truth be told, I’m not privilege to everything that occurs within these walls. You’d have to speak with General Maxon, and I’m afraid he’s currently off-site.”

Madelyn wondered if he was holding something back, eyeing the soldier’s body language for any tell-tale signs. Not that she felt comfortable interrogating him for more information, but if there was even the slightest hint something sinister was occurring behind the scenes, she wanted to know. But whatever anxiety the Lieutenant appeared to be showing was more indicative of her close proximity and not some big secret he was trying to hide about Fort Hagen’s operations. With a disappointed sigh, she gave another nod to Deacon, who tapped his nose in return.

“Director Gould was explicit that we inspect the records room,” she spoke, driving the conversation and tour forward. “She has quite the reputation as being the most organized member of the DOD. Her demands aren’t to be trifled with.”

“Yes, of course,” Lieutenant Danse agreed, motioning with his hand towards a long hallway. “This way.”

In the next corridor, there was a secure door that required a keycode for entry. She was polite enough to look away as the Lieutenant entered the passcode, but she knew Deacon snuck a peak, unable to resist the forbidden knowledge. The room itself was enormous, akin to a library with tall shelves of books and binders, metal cabinets filled with files and paperwork.

“We’ve been following Director Gould’s suggested methods ever since she sent out the new directives two years ago,” Lieutenant Danse explained, walking them past the front desk where a lone clerk flashed a curt salute. “Every piece of intelligence is properly archived within these walls. Only authorized personnel are permitted to remove records, and all requests must be logged with the clerk.”

As she looked around, listening to his explanation, it started to sound and feel more like Fort Knox than Fort Hagen. “Would we permitted to perform an audit?”

The Lieutenant’s stern expression hadn’t changed much, but even then she felt like she might have crossed the line, shown their hand too soon.  After a few moments of silence, he slowly nodded.

“I believe that would be…permissible,” he agreed. “What would you like to assess?”

Madelyn paused, even though she had her answer long before they’d made their trip that day. “K—for Kitty.”

The three navigated through the rows of shelves and cabinets until they reached a section, little flags with black lettering blocking off every few feet. Ka—Ke—Yes, that would do. She set her briefcase down by her feet and pointed to the cabinet she wanted to inspect. “This may take a while.”

Lieutenant Danse didn’t seem phased at first, content to watch her as she clicked open the drawer and began filtering through the various files. Under his watch, she had to at least pretend to be slowly inspecting that the paperwork was in order, humming under her breath and smiling to herself as if she enjoyed playing secretary.

Deacon decided it was time for him to shine. “Catch the game last night?”

“Excuse me?”

“The game,” Deacon clarified, earning the Lieutenant’s attention. “Baseball. Ya’ know, America’s pastime. I swear, it was a close one—”

Madelyn tuned them out as soon as she confirmed her partner had managed to engage the soldier fully, rambling on about player statistics and the next day’s game against Baltimore. A part of her was humored, imagining Deacon studying up on the Red Sox players before wondering if he was actually, secretly a fan of the sport. God willing he never dragged her to a game. She quickened her pace, lest she become distracted by whatever the hell Vito’s save was.

The entire infiltration of Fort Hagen was a long shot. So, as Madelyn skimmed through the folders, she didn’t expect to find much, if anything of consequence. But then, right as she reached the back of the drawer, she saw lettering typed out in a bold font, displaying a familiar name—C, Kellogg. She almost gave herself a papercut yanking it out to inspect, refraining from opening the folder at the last moment when she thought about how to get the file into her briefcase. Deacon’s distraction wouldn’t be enough.

The idea struck her instantly and without a second to overthink her next movements, she tugged on the metal cabinet, shouting dramatically as the entire structure came toppling over. As hundreds of papers flied out, she swiftly captured the one she had been searching for, tucking in with a few others as she knelt to the floor, feigning collapse. Lieutenant Danse and Deacon were by her side in an instant, the two quickly lifting the cabinet back into place. Madelyn took the opportunity to stuff the handful of files into her briefcase, clicking open and shutting it closed again like a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it magic trick. By the time Deacon leaned to assist her, the job was done. Her hand in his, she gave him one last signal—three quick squeezes.

“Agent James, ma’am,” the Lieutenant’s concern was evident, even if he also appeared worried about the mess of files. “Are you alright?”

“While your files are organized Lieutenant,” Madelyn explained, breathing a sigh of relief—genuine, but only because their real task was complete. Well—so far. “They don’t appear to be structurally sound.”

The soldier frowned. “I apologize.”

“I appreciate it,” she answered, with a broad smile. “I will be kind in my report. You may lead on.”

For the following hour Madelyn and Deacon continued to follow Lieutenant Danse through the fort, her hand squeezing the handle of her briefcase so tightly she thought her fingers would snap in two. As confident as she had felt about securing supposed evidence on Kellogg, it was quickly dwindling the longer she was subjected to a farce of a tour. She didn’t know how much longer she could keep the façade up, pretending to be interested in what constituted as military secrets. Thankfully, Deacon appeared to be engaged and as collected as ever, silencing maintaining their cover.

When they were finally back outside, Nick was still standing by the Cadillac where they’d left him, left foot twitching as he tapped it against the sidewalk impatiently. When the group was close enough, she flashed him a wink, twitching her nose as she subtly glanced to what she was holding. The detective was barely able to hide his surprise, eyeing them as he eagerly awaited their return. Madelyn wouldn’t share in the excitement until they were far away from the military base, certain they had completed their operation without detection.

Lieutenant Danse turned to them near the curbside, never relaxing from his rigid military posture. “Agent James, Agent Johnson,” he nodded to both of them. “I hope your visit to Fort Hagen was satisfactory.”

“Very,” she answered, glancing to Deacon. “Johnny boy and I have a few more stops before we return to D.C, but I believe you’ve set a precedent.”

The Lieutenant, for once, showed the slightest bit of reaction—pride. He offered a salute, and parting words. “Ad Victoriam.”

“Defendam hoc,” she replied, copying his gesture. “Until we meet again.” 

It shouldn’t have been surprising that Piper was waiting for the trio when they returned to the agency that afternoon, as the reporter had a knack for occupying the space even though she had a perfectly suitable office on the second floor. Madelyn hadn’t visited the Publick Occurrences suite in a long while, but assumed it was just as cluttered as the last time she saw it, covered in newsprint, photos and paperwork. That day, Piper wasn’t alone.  

“Nicky boy, good to see you.”

It had been over a month since Madelyn last saw Hancock, when she paid him a visit at the Old State House during Nick’s hospitalization. He hadn’t changed much, not that she expected him to, still wearing his red coat and golden pin—of the people, for the people. He was leaned back in Nick’s chair, ankles crossed with his feet on the desk, flashing a lazy grin.

“Been a while,” he mused.

The detective was less than enthused by the sight, walking over to shove Hancock’s boots back to the floor, hovering intimidatingly until the other man finally moved. This time, he perched himself in an armchair, lounging back without much decency or care that there were others in the room. Even though Madelyn barely knew him, she understood the behavior aligned with his reputation. She crossed through the room to sit opposite of their guest, while Deacon followed to settle into his usual spot against the back wall.

He smiled at her, offering a low whistle. “Love the look, dollface.”

She returned the expression but couldn’t wait to slip into her office and remove the wig and return to her usual self. How did the saying go? Gentlemen prefer blondes—well, so did Madelyn, at least when it came to her own hair.

“What do you want, John?” Nick finally asked, removing his hat and coat before practically collapsing into his seat. Within seconds, he struck a match and lit a fresh cigarette, ignoring Hancock’s request for a spare. After a long day at the military base, it was to be expected—especially if they were about to reconvene on what they’d discovered.

“Miss Wright and I were just discussing the fascinating attributes of one, Mayor McDonough,” Hancock answered. “Otherwise known as my sleazy, good-for-nothing brother.”

Piper had never agreed with the mayor’s policies, or ethics—read any article she’d written on the subject and you’d get a clear understanding of her stance within seconds. She had McDonough pegged as corrupt before half the city knew what corruption was, only learning it was possible after Eddie Winter’s dirty laundry was left hung out to dry in the papers after his death. But that investigation hadn’t been able to link the mayor to anything nefarious. It seemed now that Piper was after the Institute, she was determined to root out McDonough’s secrets once and for all.

“He hasn’t been seen since the MIT demonstration,” she noted, and even Madelyn had to admit that was strange for a government official. The mayor of Boston couldn’t just disappear for two weeks without suspicion—thank God for intrepid reporters. “Even Hancock can’t get an audience.”

“Shut out by my own flesh and blood,” he mocked offense, holding a hand over his heart. “Guy has always been a pain in the ass, but hell, even on our worst days he’d still call me up on holidays and birthdays. Shake my hand in public. And on rare days, join me for a scotch in the Old State House.”

Nick was listening, but his focus was clearly on the briefcase Madelyn had situated on her lap. Piper sighed, resigned to the fact that the detective had his priorities. Until the Shaun Perlman case was solved, his interest in her investigation was limited. With all eyes on her, Madelyn took the cue to click open the case.

“I might have grabbed more than necessary,” she said, shuffling through the extra files before leaning over to place one on Nick’s desk. He read over the typewritten name, confirming it matched their suspect—Conrad Kellogg.

The group continued to sit in relative silence as Nick skimmed through the paperwork, tracing his finger across redacted lines and mumbling under his breath with a furrowed brow. “Most of this reads like any military dossier.”

“So your man really is a soldier,” Hancock suggested, inferring he’d been brought up to speed on their cold-case.

“Looks like it,” Nick muttered, but his eyes continued to scan, flipping through page after page of information. Suddenly, he blanched, and momentarily flicked his gaze to Piper as his mouth twitched. “MIT is mentioned.”

“What?” the reporter yelped, rushing to the desk and practically yanking the file from Nick’s hands. He didn’t resist, leaning back in his chair as he thoughtfully rubbed at his chin. Piper gasped as she read over the text. “This is his medical history. It says that in 1945, after returning home from the war in Europe, he received experimental brain augmentation in an attempt to cure a traumatic head injury.”

Her voice was shaky, clearly alarmed by what she’d recited. Madelyn sat in stunned silence, unable to believe was she was hearing—could it be possible Kellogg was linked to the Institute after all? “As far as these reports indicate, MIT considered the operation a success.”

“I’ll say,” Nick muttered, shaking his head. “This goes back to your theory on Institute experiments. Who’s to say they didn’t implant something while rooting around, only for it to backfire?”

Piper reluctantly nodded. “That means we were right. MIT has been hiding secrets for years. Decades even.”

An eerie silence filled the room as Nick stared down at his right hand—the prosthetic that he’d received after returning from the war, courtesy of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. Similar circumstances to Kellogg, and yet set on entirely different paths. Madelyn knew there was little she could do to settle the questions that were likely running through his mind.

“Could this explain his crimes?” she asked in a hushed tone. “Any of his actions?”

Nick didn’t answer, so Piper took the initiative. “Anything is possible. The Institute has made that much clear.”

“Maybe they put one in Guy’s brain too,” Hancock joked.

At first, his statement didn’t resonate with the others, but Piper’s expression quickly shifted, her interest piqued. “That—that would make sense. It would explain everything about his actions.”

“Gives a new meaning to government puppet,” Hancock muttered.

Madelyn focused on her partner, and his continued silence. “What do you want to do, Nick?”

The detective didn’t answer for a long time, still focused on his hand, studying the hard lines of his palm. Only when his cigarette was burned down to the filter did he let out a deep sigh. “Only one thing left to do.”

He lifted his head to stare at the others. “We go after MIT.”

They’d managed to infiltrate Fort Hagen—how hard could sneaking into the Institute be?

There was something to be said about the dangers of women walking the Boston streets alone at night. Even though Eddie Winter and his crime syndicate had been shut down, and the corruption within the police department and government had been culled, there was always an underlying threat when living in the city. Between rumors of a so-called Fens Phantom and the Cola-Killer, or worries of running into a crazed, scarred gunman—there was always the possibility of running into something sinister behind every dark corner.

Madelyn wasn’t afraid, and it wasn’t because of the pistol strapped to her thigh-holster under her dress, or the backup stored in her purse for good measure. For all the potential danger lurking about after sunset, nothing was more terrifying than the idea of what she was about to do. Since the visit to Fort Hagen and subsequent discovery of evidence linking Kellogg’s involvement with the Institute, she’d had the overwhelming desire to return to Concord. Not with Nick to follow-up on their investigation, but to visit a place she thought she’d never come back to—the church. Perhaps something within her snapped when the connection had been made at the agency. Nick would sort out their leads, coordinate with Preston’s Minutemen on surveillance for the university. Piper would work with Hancock on locating Mayor McDonough in an attempt to shake him down for answers. Deacon would return to Railroad headquarters so Tinker Tom could mine the redacted information from the smuggled Fort Hagen files. Madelyn would rendezvous with the others in the afternoon, after she paid a visit to city hall to research caselaw and any court documents on file for the Institute. Their plans were set into motion without a moment to lose—the totality of it all, frightening.

Then again, she’d been delaying the visit for months—years—best not to fool herself into thinking some wild event had finally pushed her over the edge. If trauma was what she needed, Madelyn had plenty of opportunities in recent memory to travel north to Concord, and to the little church cemetery in which her husband had been laid to rest for all eternity. It was better late than never. If ghosts, spirits—guardian angels, were real—she hoped he could forgive her for the delay.

Madelyn stood at the gates for a long time, before musing to herself that if anybody were watching her, how strange it must be for a young woman to be staring longingly into a graveyard. Even then, her movements were slow as she navigated the tombstones and tiny monuments, paying them no attention. Underneath a shady tree near the back corner was her husband’s grave, the inscription easy to read thanks to the dedicated groundskeeper who worked to maintain the site, even when nobody visited.

Nathaniel James—Devoted Son, Husband, and Soldier

Madelyn swallowed back the flood of emotions that threatened to knock her down to her knees and released a shaky breath. “Hi honey.”

What? She shut her eyes tight, groaning at her own frustration. A year and a half, and all she could think to say was that? Instead of flowers, she fumbled with the most expensive bottle of whiskey she could find at the corner store and turned it in her hands, showing off the label as if he could see.

“I brought the good hooch,” she attempted to tease, but the words felt forced. Finally, with a defeated sigh, she slumped. “I—I don’t know how to do this.”

Tears prickled her vision and she gripped the bottle in one hand, reaching up with her other to wipe at her eyes. “I don’t know a lot of things. How to feel about you being gone, for starters. Guilty for the slightest bit of happiness? Sad and wallowing in self-pity? Nick doesn’t think so.”

A breeze shook the branches of the tree, startling her. She glanced around in the darkness before deciding to sit down on the ground, uncaring of the dirt and grass that would likely stain her dress—Codsworth would have words with her on laundry day. After some consideration, she unscrewed the bottle of whiskey and carefully poured a little out onto the ground in front of his headstone.

“Is Heaven a dry county?” she joked, smirking as the liquid disappeared into the earth. “They don’t teach such blasphemy in Catholic school.”

She took a sip straight from the bottle, wincing at the smooth burn as it travelled down her throat and radiated through her chest and gut. “Everybody always wants to offer unsolicited advice,” she lamented. “I know Nick means well, he always has. And maybe I shouldn’t give him such grief after—”

Madelyn broke off when she thought about her partner’s own, recent loss. “At least you and Jenny have each other now.”

The only sound—or response—were the rustling of the leaves in the oak tree. She sat in the quiet for a while, alternating between pouring more whiskey onto the ground and into her mouth until her skin felt tingly.

“All I know is—” she steadied herself as the tears clouded her vision again. “Damnit Nate, I miss you.”

“I have Nick, and Piper and—” her breath hitched, unable to prevent herself from crying. “I activated Codsworth. He’s such a sweetheart, for a robot with artificial intelligence. Worries so damn much. I—we—have a dog too,” she softly laughed, thinking off all the times she’d seen the Mister Handy walking Dogmeat outside her Cambridge apartment, much to the confusion and wonderment of her neighbors. “But I miss our house, I miss our life. Our plans. I miss dates at Shelly’s—they tore it down last summer—”

Madelyn stopped cold, realizing she’d gone on an emotional rant to an inanimate object, admitting more to empty air than she had to any living person. Remorse trickled through her mind as she realized there was one name she’d omitted, perhaps purposefully. She wasn’t lying about the way she felt—not in the slightest—but her feelings went beyond that of her late husband.

“I have more bad news,” she hushed, side-eyeing the grave like it could come to life and take his form at any moment. Maybe she’d taken too many sips of the whiskey. “I—I met someone. Maybe. Still trying to figure out the circumstances of our paths crossing. He might’ve stalked me. Might be stalking me now.”

She glanced up to the nearby church steeple window, looking for a looming shadow. “Despite the warning signs, and odds, and…cons list, I—”

Madelyn’s face felt warm, and it wasn’t from the alcohol. Why was she unable to admit how she felt, even though she’d made peace with the realization time and time again? Maybe it was the absurdity of expressing it aloud, to her deceased husband’s grave—I’m in love with somebody else.

“I’m a fool,” she sighed, tipping the whiskey bottle so more amber liquid spilt onto the ground. A little moved to dampen the edge of her dress, but she was beyond caring. “To want something after all the death and destruction—not to mention explosions—it’s new and exciting and terrifying.”

“And I’m still carrying around all this guilt and shame,” she tossed her head back, grimacing when her skull thumped the hard stone. “We’ve been busy with this case, but I’m afraid my apprehension is obvious. Even if I started it.”

“Was I always this stubborn?”

Madelyn shook her head. “Don’t—I know you can’t, but—don’t answer that.”

“I don’t know why I’m telling you all this,” she continued, quietly. “I don’t know why I finally decided to come see you. Like I said—I don’t know a lot right now, but I’m trying. Waiting for the next big break—though, I guess that’s already happened. Don’t suppose you can tell me if Nick and I are on the right track?”

Silence. Well—what did she expect?

“I need a sign,” she mumbled, gesturing to her surroundings. “Something a little louder than the wind in the trees. You know I’m not a fan of subtlety.”

Madelyn wasn’t sure if she was asking for divine intervention on the agency’s investigation, or for something else. Maybe both. Regardless, it didn’t hurt in asking for assistance from the other side. Unable to drink anymore, she capped the bottle of whiskey and tucked it safely against Nate’s gravestone, digging it into the soft dirt so it wouldn’t topple over so easily.

“There,” she sighed. “Now you can get shitfaced with the apostles.”

A sad little smile pulled at her lips as she wondered if her husband would’ve found the joke in poor taste. Somebody else she knew would’ve laughed like she was Lenny Bruce performing in New York. She pushed away the thoughts of another man and the associated guilt that ensued, focusing as she ran her fingers across Nate’s engraved name.

“I love you,” she whispered, closing her eyes for a brief moment. “No matter what happens next.”

Madelyn didn’t linger for long, unsure if she wanted to know what could possibly occur in a cemetery after midnight. However, as she left the Concord graveyard and stood on the sidewalk to hail a cab, she couldn’t shake the sense that she was being watched. 

It was late when Madelyn managed to haul herself up the seven flights to her apartment door, the hallway quiet and dark save for one flickering, fluorescent light near the stairwell. She wondered, as she fished the keys from her purse, if her neighbors were fed up with her late-night escapades or were suspicious of her line of work. If they hadn’t seen the fruit of her labors plastered across the newspapers, she was sure they’d probably think of her as some kind of floozie. Maybe when the Shaun Perlman case was closed, and Kellogg was captured, she could settle down and return to practicing law at the District Attorney’s office downtown.

Laughter bubbled in her throat—first at the assumption there would be no more cases to solve, that the work would ever truly be gone. Second, that she’d ever leave the agency and Nick behind. Or anybody behind. To finally be part of something larger than oneself as she assisted not one, but two organizations—Nick’s partner with the agency by day, Deacon’s partner with the Railroad at night. Settle down? Never.

Deacon’s parting words at the office suddenly echoed in her mind and she turned on her heel to face Drummer Boy’s door. She hesitated before knocking, not wanting to disturb him at such an odd hour. But Railroad agents were habitual night-owls, and not a moment after tapping, the lock clicked open and she was greeted by a familiar, kind smile.

“Just checking in. Doctor’s orders,” she pursed her lips in thought. “Not Carrington, but—”

“Deacon called ahead,” he explained, cutting her off.

While Drummer Boy would never come out and interrogate her, the way he was eyeing her with one raised brow told her he’d been listening for her return. She liked having the Railroad agent nearby, but she didn’t need to be on surveillance—something she’d need to remind her partner of the next time she saw him. It was bad enough she had a Mister Handy unit that was likely ready to report her missing if she didn’t walk through the door in the next ten minutes. The last thing she needed was a babysitter.

“Late night?” he simply questioned.

“You don’t know the half of it,” she sighed, cutting him some slack—he was just doing his job. Madelyn’s head still felt dizzy from drinking all that whiskey at Nate’s grave, and exerting herself on so many stairs didn’t help the unsettling feeling in her stomach. Maybe some food would help. “Did you have dinner yet? Thursday…I’m sure Codsworth has some kind of casserole in the oven.”

“Rain check,” he grinned, even as he shook his head. She was remined that despite his duties to the underground organization, they had managed to form a good friendship. It was only natural, seeing as they were neighbors. “I’ve got a stack of dead drops to sort through and run to their next location before dawn.”

Madelyn didn’t take offense to his rejection, understanding that his Railroad obligations came first. “I’ll save a piece for you,” she said. “Well, if Dogmeat doesn’t lick the pan clean.”

The two shared a laugh before bidding each other goodnight. Keys in hand, she stepped through her door to find her apartment unusually dark. She tossed her purse and coat over the back of her couch and reached to turn on the lamp on the table, but even after a few tugs on the chord, no light shined through the bulb.

“Codsworth?” she called for the robot, and heard his buzzing from the hallway, but only Dogmeat came bounding out into the living room to greet her. “Hey boy, is the power out?”

She patted his head and looked around the room, trying to remember where she’d last stashed a flashlight or some candles. Curiosity filled her mind when she thought about the fact she’d seen light coming through Drummer Boy’s door—had she forgotten to pay her electric bill amid the chaos of recent investigations? Dogmeat barked, and Codsworth finally appeared from the hallway.

“Miss Madelyn, you’re finally home.”

She moved to meet him halfway near the kitchen island, ready to crack a self-depreciating joke about the circumstances when something shot through the nearby window, whizzing so fast in front of her that she barely had a chance to react or realize what it was—a bullet. A second shot caused the glass of the window to shatter and Madelyn was unable to hold back a frightened shriek. A third flew by, ricocheting off the kitchen counter and into Codsworth’s chassis. The Mister Handy didn’t seemed phased, brushing off the attack as he rambled off threating phrases to the phantom assailant, hovering closer towards the window.

In the next second, Drummer Boy burst through her front door, gun drawn. With quick strides he was at her side, colliding with her body as another bullet whistled by. They fell to the floor in a heap, Drummer Boy scooting them out of sight from the window and behind the kitchen counter to best of his abilities. Muted gunshots continued to echo through her apartment until finally—there was silence. Madelyn’s adrenaline continued to rush for a long while, and neither her or Drummer Boy dared to move, unsure if it was really safe. Judging by the way Codsworth was moving around the room, celebrating their survival, the coast was clear—for now.

It was only when she felt a dampness seeping against her chest that panic started to bloom and she thought to move—had she been injured? Her thoughts shifted as Drummer Boy flashed her a pained expression, breathing out through gritted teeth as he pulled away if only to collapse flat against the tiled floor.

“Robby?” Madelyn knelt over him, uncaring of Railroad protocol on codenames. Blood soaked through the side of his shirt where he’d obviously been shot. “Jesus, you’re—”

He shook his head and forced a smirk. “I’m fine.”

“Just a flesh wound,” he assured in a hushed tone.

Madelyn had a hard time believing it, considering the painful expression he was struggling to hide. He slowly gestured to her arm, and she realized she really had been injured—blood trickling down her arm from a tear in the shoulder of her dress. It was a small graze, as far as she could tell. Considering the wound could be worse—and that she’d suffered worse before—she wasn’t fazed. The shock would likely catch up to her later, as it typically did. All she cared about in that moment was finding out why she’d been shot at in her own home—who wanted her dead? Her sense of security was shattered, all over again.  

“On second thought,” Drummer Boy mumbled, catching her attention. Madelyn found his hand and gripped it tightly, listening as the sound of police sirens wailed outside the apartment building and filtered in through the busted window. At least somebody had the decency to call for help. Tears began their silent roll down her cheeks as she wondered, how much more harm would come to those she cared about?

He barely squeezed her fingers in return. “I’ll take that slice of casserole now.”

[96thdayofrage]

A Georgia man who professed a passion for guns and God was in custody on Tuesday night after a string of shootings that police said appeared to target Asian women at massage parlors and left eight people dead.

Robert Aaron Long, 21, of Woodstock, Georgia, was caught on video at the crime scenes and later nabbed on a highway two hours south of Atlanta following a police chase, authorities said.

Police stressed that it was too early to announce a motive—but at least four of those killed were of Korean descent, and the horrific attacks come amid a wave of targeted violence against the Asian-American community.

A trickle of details about the suspect, who went by his middle name, offered few clues.

“Pizza, guns, drums, music, family, and God. This pretty much sums up my life. It’s a pretty good life,” read the tagline on an Instagram account that appeared to belong to Long.

A student who graduated from Sequoyah High with Long in 2017 who spoke on the condition of anonymity told The Daily Beast, “He was very innocent seeming and wouldn’t even cuss. He was sorta nerdy and didn’t seem violent from what I remember. He was a hunter and his father was a youth minister or pastor. He was big into religion.”

The rampage began at Young’s Asian Massage in Acworth in Cherokee County, where two people were killed, one other person succumbed to their injuries en route to a nearby hospital, and one died while in treatment, according to the sheriff’s office. The victims were two Asian women, a white woman, and a white man, according to the Atlanta Journal-Constitution. A Hispanic man was also injured in the shooting and was rushed to a hospital for medical treatment, a spokesman for the sheriff said.

About an hour later and 30 miles away, two spas on the same Atlanta street—Gold Spa and one in Aroma Therapy Spa—were targeted by gunfire, and four Asian women were killed.

Officers had just arrived at one of the spas to find the victims when they were summoned to the second.

“While at [the first location] we received another call across the street of shots fired, and responded to find another individual shot at that location,” Atlanta Police Chief Rodney N. Bryant told reporters.

While no details about the Acworth victims were given, Bryant said that “it appears that all the [Atlanta] victims are female” and “it appears that they may be Asian.”

Shootings at two massage parlors in Atlanta and one in the suburbs have left multiple people dead, many of them women of Asian descent, authorities said Tuesday.

Two men who live just across from Gold Massage Spa who refused to give their names said their neighbors started asking them about the incident around 6:15 p.m. They said the area was very diverse, but that the spa was known to be an Asian-owned business.

“This is the worst shooting since ‘99 I think,” one of the men told The Daily Beast. “There was a shooting then where a guy went through his office and killed a bunch of people and he killed his family. That was 12 people I think, so this is the worst one since I’ve been here.”

Bryant has declined to say whether police believe the shootings in Georgia Tuesday amounted to a hate crime, saying, “We can’t make that determination just yet.”

Cherokee County Sheriff ’s Capt. Jay Baker told reporters: “Nothing is going to be ruled out. Wherever the investigation leads us, that’s where we are going to go.” Atlanta police said video surveillance of Long’s car at all three massage parlors captured Tuesday night made it “extremely likely” he was the main suspect in all three shootings.

Baker said that Long was arrested by Crisp County Sheriff’s officers who performed a PIT maneuver, or a pursuit intervention technique, in which police force another car to plow sideways and stop.

Long’s family did not respond to calls for comment. His youth pastor at the Crabapple First Baptist Church confirmed he was the suspect and said elders would be releasing a statement.

A 2018 video on the Crabapple Facebook page features Long discussing his Christian journey toward baptism.

“As many of you may remember, when I was 8 years old I thought I was becoming a Christian, and got baptized during that time. And I remember a lot of the reason for that is a lot of my friends in my Sunday school class were doing that,” Long says in the clip.

“And after that time, there wasn’t any fruit from the root that is our salvation.”

He goes on to say that when he was in seventh grade he attended a youth group and a speaker was discussing the biblical story of the prodigal son.

“The son goes off and squanders all that he has and lives completely for himself and then, when he finds he’s wanting to eat pig food, he realized there’s something wrong and he goes back to his father and his father runs back to him and embraces him. And by the grace of God I was able to draw the connection there and realize this is a story between what happened with me and God. I ran away living completely for myself, and he still wants me, and so that’s when I was saved.”

The FBI joined the investigation late Tuesday, and President Biden was also briefed on the massacres. Secretary of State Antony Blinken, who is in South Korea, mentioned the killings before a meeting with officials said.

“We are horrified by this violence which has no place in America or anywhere,” he said, according to the Associated Press.

President Joe Biden recently condemned the surge in crimes of hate, which have included a brazen, deadly assault on an 84-year-old from Thailand who was killed on a morning stroll in the San Francisco Bay Area.

The Congressional Asian Pacific American Caucus said it was “horrified” by news of the shooting “at a time when we’re already seeing a spike in anti-Asian violence.”

The legal advocacy nonprofit Asian Americans Advancing Justice - Atlanta released a statement saying the group was “shaken” by the shootings. “Now is the time to hold the victims and their families in our hearts and with light.”

[mywalkintofreedom]

Life at west Main Street- part 5

When I think about the first months of Ezra’s life, I look at it as a time where we learned some of the most valuable lessons in life. When he came into our lives we were no longer living just for ourselves, I guess is how I could describe it.

I remember a lot of things just became less important, or didn’t seem like they were that big of a deal anymore. I remember Micah saying “I feel so small now, and like I know so little about life”. It might be hard to believe, but the season we were in, living where we were living, there couldn’t have been a better time for us to have our first son enter into our world.

When I look back, our circumstances, our finances, our living environment, I’m glad they were the way they were. Why in the world would I say that? Because it was these things that caused us to make life changing decisions at the most important stage of our journey, when we had a newborn, and that we learned things that we otherwise wouldn’t have. Never ever despise small beginnings, it was our foundation. It also made that we learned to depend on God for our every need, not just for ourselves, also with our child. I didn’t know what it was like to be statistically poor, or to have to wait to buy a piece of meat, to not be able to buy new clothes. I’m saying “statistically” poor, because if you looked at our income, we were poor. BUT, we weren’t poor in spirit, we were richer than we had ever been. I remember food never tasting as good as it did in that season. We bought good food, and it was just enough for what we needed. We would often look at each other and say “I feel so rich”. We lived in our apartment for about a year and a half, and because we lived here for so long, living “primitive”, I guess is how I could describe it, became a part of our mindset and foundation that we built our family on. Watching how God took care of our needs, gave me great hope that He would help us take care of our son.

Some of my dearest memories at west Main Street were probably the early hours of the morning. I treasured every second I got to spend with Micah, and honestly still do. Maybe it’s because we had a long distance relationship before we got married, that was definitely part of it. But to be in the company of one another was and just is the best, especially in that time. Micah and I would get up early every day and he would make us coffee and we would sit down and read the Word together. We had been reading together every morning since the day we got married. I’m sure many know this, but proverbs has 31 chapters, so it’s perfect for reading “the chapter of the day”. We did this for years.

We would read while we had Ezra in his squeaky rocker that Micah would rock back and forth with his foot. Often this was at 5:00am after his first feeding. Ezra would listen and eventually fall asleep to us taking turns reading out loud. I can still hear the squeaking of that rocker like it was yesterday in the early morning hours as the sun rose through the trees.

There had been many months of reading together where I just sat through it and wasn’t feeling anything and wasn’t getting any revelations and often didn’t even feel like reading, until then. It wasn’t until the first months of Ezra’s life that the Word of God started to explode. I was having so many revelations in this time, and Micah did as well. It’s like all of a sudden I understood parts of scripture that I had read my whole life or was seeing things I never saw before. I remember craving the Word, wanting to be in it. We had bible studies together and we made decisions on how we were going to raise our family, and how we were going to keep our home spiritually clean.

Micah was 19 when we got married, and I had just turned 20. I don’t think I had ever shared our age in my other blogs, so there ya have it. We knew we were for each other. I knew before he was even my boyfriend, and so did Micah.

By the time Ezra was born, Micah was 20 and I was 21. So yeah, we were still young chickens. I still felt like a teenager in a lot of ways. Still immature in a lot of areas of our life. But we had the privilege of growing up together, which we still are, and I don’t regret being that young at that time. We might not have always made the right decisions, but does anyone always make the right decisions? We may or may not have bought pizza with our last pennies too many times than I can count, and then had to eat plain bread in the following days until pay day. But we did always learn from them. (except for the pizza situation, we never seemed to learn from that one.) We always wanted to do Gods will for our life. I honestly don’t know where we would be today if God hadn’t been the One guiding us.

I remember getting to the point where I felt like life was starting to settle down a little, or so I thought. I think it was late July, but I don’t remember exactly. One afternoon, Micah came home for lunch and he had an interesting look on his face. I could tell, like I always can, that there was something he needed to tell me. Lunch hour had nearly passed, I think, when he finally said “well, I quit my job” (!) My brain couldn’t really comprehend what it had just heard. In full surprise I said “you did WHAT!?” He quit his job. I thought maybe he meant he decided he wanted to, or was planning to, but no, he had already gone to his boss and done the deed. His job was our only income, by the way. He explained to me all the reasons why he had quit, and that he felt it was time to move on to something else... and the entire time all I could think was “you didn’t discuss this with me”. I was furious about it, actually. I mean I was upset that he gave up our income, of course, but I was more upset that he made the decision without me.

In fact, I was so upset that I didn’t talk to him for nearly two days. I wasn’t trying to give him the silent treatment, I just knew that if I would open my mouth I would probably end up getting really angry, and say things I shouldn’t (I had a good amount of experience with this). After two days when I felt my anger had cooled off, some, I told him exactly what I thought, but calmly. I told him that I thought it was not a good idea. I told him that I thought that he needed to have something else lined up before he could quit. And most of all, I told him that he hurt my feelings by not involving me in that decision before he went and made that decision by himself. Then I told him that I would support him in his decision and walk beside him, and help him in any way I could, because he is after all my husband, but that I most certainly was not in agreement. He repented to me for not including me in the decision and said he saw that that was wrong. This was actually a big learning moment for both him and me, for me, because I had to make a choice not to let that anger take root in my life which would then create a breech.

But he didn’t change his mind, which I hoped he would. We shared it with several friends, and I stood beside him and did not share with anyone that I didn’t agree. He had one more week of work and then he would be done. There was a goodbye party at work and everything. They had made him a cake and cards, the whole shebang. I remember thinking, “oh my word if he does change his mind this will be interesting”.

Please know that Micah’s heart was never to do the wrong thing. He had been faithfully working at a job that didn’t fulfill him for almost a year at this point. He often talked about wanting to do something different, but the open door just hadn’t come yet. It’s a journey, learning to hear God and His will for your life. It’s not always easy. Micah was learning, and he had an open heart, always.

We searched for different work for him, but we didn’t have any success. I prayed that God would show him the right thing to do every day. I firmly believed his time wasn’t done yet at his old job, but also had to be open to trusting God if it was. After some council on his decision with friends, and conversations between him and I, he eventually humbly went back to his boss and asked him if he could have his job back. This definitely wasn’t easy, but he did feel it was the right thing to do. I was so proud of him. He recognized he had made the wrong decision and had gotten ahead of God. His boss had already hired someone else on, so he wasn’t able to take Micah back full time. In a way this was okay, and a consequence that we had to accept, it gave Micah an opportunity to do some other work on the side that he’d enjoy more.

So between that summer and January of 2016 he worked several days a week at the car dealership, and then the other days he did odd jobs. God still provided for us. You know, even if you make a mistake, you repent and you move on, it doesn’t mean God abandons you.

One event that really made an impression on both of us happened at the Ingles supermarket. We were really tight this week. Like really tight. We had to pay something that set us back, I don’t exactly remember what, I wish I did. I remember we really didn’t know how we were going to eat this week. We needed a miracle. We had $10, and decided that we would get a few essential food items and that Micah would walk to work. Micah was always the optimist, he would tell me “don’t worry, God WILL provide”. Sometimes his optimism would irritate me, and I would say “how the heck can you be calm about this!?” But, the reality is, his trust in God has truly taught me a lot. We decided “okay let’s pray and ask God”, we had prayed that God would provide for us, and make a way for us to be able to buy ALL the essential food we needed for that week and put gas in our car.

It was a Sunday afternoon after church. We always took the mini cart at Ingles, because we wouldn’t buy a lot. We had Ezra’s car seat on the mini cart, and we would put our groceries in the section below. We were only getting like three things. While we were there we saw someone we knew. This person jokingly bumped into Micah “on accident” to say hi. We chatted for a bit, and Micah said “yeah just doing some groceries for the week”. This person looked at our cart, and then he looked at us, and said “in that?” We were like “yeah we don’t need too much, we put everything down there at the bottom, it works great”. He then looked at me and said “why don’t you go get a bigger cart”. I was like.. uhh.. ok.. sure. When I got the cart, this person started filling up our cart with all sorts of groceries, and told me to pick out everything we needed. I still get emotional even writing this down. I was very hesitant putting things in, we had been calculating everything so long, just throwing things in the cart was not something I was used to. This was one of the most meaningful things I personally ever encountered. His wife was there too, and also asked me questions, like what I liked to eat, and things like that, and she then would put it in the cart. I remember he put a bottle of fancy sparkling grape juice in the cart, and different extras that we never bought, but would think about buying sometimes. Micah always wanted to do special things for me but we just couldn’t afford it, he always told me that’s why this meant so much to him. He put expensive cheese in the cart, he put a jar of Nutella in the cart (🙂). And meat, wow meat for every day of the week, plus extra. A lot of things that I really liked that he didn’t know I did. I remember really just not knowing what to do, and he kept nudging me saying things along the lines of “come on, is that all?” “What else?”

We went to the checkout, and even there I was thinking “what’s going to happen now?” Is he going to leave and let us pay for it?😂 We had never filled up a belt with this much stuff. They paid for everything.

We walked out of the grocery store and said bye, and of course THANK YOU. We went to the car, and when we got the groceries loaded we sat down and looked at each other. “What just happened?!” Like seriously, “WHAT JUST HAPPENED?” I remember Micah raising up his hands and praising God, thanking Him. Our miracle happened, God provided, the same day, not just the necessities, more than what we needed for that week. We headed to the gas station and used the money we were going to get those few groceries with, and filled up our car.

I had a routine, every day I would take a long walk with Ezra to Micah’s work and then we would all drive back home for his lunch hour. This walk took me about 45 minutes the first time I did it, but I got faster and I remember the last time I took that walk it took me 35 minutes. Often people would stop and ask if I needed a ride, and they always were very surprised when I’d say that we were just taking a walk. During my pregnancy my feet had grown half a size, I had no idea this was even a thing, but it can happen, and happened to me. This meant that all my shoes were too small, and would make my legs hurt and knees. One time we had extra money so we went to Goodwill to look for shoes for me. We found these tan Toms for the exact money we had, they looked brand new. I wore these Toms every day until it had holes in both front and back, I loved them.

My walk was my favorite part of the day, it made the morning go by faster. The outside air was necessary for me to keep my spirt lifted, and it did. The stroller I used was the stroller we had gotten from our babyshower. I remember the wheels were starting to peel by the time we moved out of west Main Street, because of how many miles I had walked with this stroller. I also walked up the hill to the library every day.

My spirit had never felt more alive. I still didn’t have any distractions in my life, and the main thing I noticed when I didn’t have a phone for more than a year is that my brain was much less occupied with other things. It was very quiet and peaceful, I guess I could say. I had space in my head, if that makes any sense. We were gifted a gift card to Hobby Lobby by a family member, so we bought paint brushes, canvasses and paint and yarn. I set up this little corner in our apartment where I would paint almost every day while Ezra took his naps. I really enjoyed doing it, although I really don’t think I was any good at it😂 I also learned how to crochet and would make hats and scarves for Ezra. I also crocheted scarves for different family members.

In that September we went to Kentucky for three weeks for Micah to work with his dad. Ezra was 4/5 months old at this time. I would say that the breastfeeding struggles were at its peak in this time I think. I can’t tell you how many times I wanted to throw in the towel and exclaimed to Micah that I was done, (even though I never really meant it), that I couldn’t do it anymore. He was having major blowouts and rashes and screaming fits, Ezra that is, not Micah. That’s honestly what I remember the most of that trip. But I was getting close to my breakthrough even though I didn’t know this of course. While we were in Kentucky, we planned a trip for me to go to The Netherlands with Ezra. I’m pretty sure my parents provided a ticket for me and Ezra (infants fly for free). Micah wasn’t able to come. A ticket was booked and after the three weeks in Kentucky were over, we headed back home.

Not too long, maybe a few days after we had gotten back home from Kentucky, we were headed to the airport. I so wanted Micah to be able to come with me, but that just wasn’t an option. I moved to the United States when I was 14 weeks pregnant on November 4th of 2014. It was now late October of 2015, so it had been a year since I had been back and since I’d seen most of my family. Most had never met Ezra.

I remember being very nervous about flying alone with Ezra for 9 hours, and about nursing sitting next to other people. (I mean you basically sit on each other’s lap in an airplane) They allowed Micah to escort me all the way to the gate, they gave him a special pass, it was so special. Goodbye at the gate was hard, we hadn’t ever been separated from each other since we had been married. I was going to be gone for three weeks.

When I got in the airplane the flight attendant saw I had Ezra and said she wanted to find me a good spot. (Before I had left Micah had prayed for people to step in and help me when I needed it) I had an entire row to myself. A nice guy also offered to carry all my luggage. Ezra did phenomenal on the plane, he didn’t cry once. He slept well and nursed well, and stole all the flight attendants’ hearts. It really felt like a God-thing. They said they had never had a baby do that well on a flight, it made me feel good, but I thought they probably said that to every mother😄

My time in the Netherlands was good. It was very very strange to be back. I felt like a different person, and like I was looking at what I’d known my whole life through different eyes. I wasn’t the same person I was when I had left, while pregnant, a year ago. A lot had happened. It was also when I was back, that I realized how primitive our life really was. I also remember unpacking my suitcase, and for the first time in months I smelled the real smell of our apartment again. I hadn’t smelled that smell since I had prayed that one time, and all of a sudden I realized that that was what our stuff smelled like. Still the muffy cigarette smoke smell.

After three weeks it was time to go back home. It was hard to leave, but I was leaving home to go back home. Both felt like home, so I had my peace about it, and was excited to see Micah again. On the flight back, I also ended up in an empty row with Ezra.

It was the Sunday morning after I had gotten back from Europe. We were getting ready to go to church. I was still having issues nursing, and this morning things were not going well again either. I was just so upset. I told Micah I wasn’t going. I really had rarely missed a service but the enemy was really resisting this morning. Micah eventually convinced me to go and God knew I was supposed to be there, and so did the enemy, so the enemy really tried hard that morning to keep me home.

When we got there, we sat down all the way in the back where we always sat. I remember holding back tears because I was just struggling this morning and so done with my nursing journey and feeling like such a failure. I honestly wasn’t hearing anything that was being said.

All of a sudden our pastor stopped talking. He started walking through the rows, and we were all following to see what he was doing and where he was going. Next thing I know, he is walking straight towards me all the way in the back. He stops in front of me, and he looks at me in my eyes and says “I love you, I am so proud of you, you are a good daughter” and then he gave me a hug, a long hug. I broke, I completely broke, how did he know? How did he know I was feeling like a failure? How did he know I was struggling? How did he know I needed to hear this? How did he even see me all the way in the back of the church? I cried, I couldn’t help it, it all came out. He cried with me. We looked into each other’s eyes crying.

It was a life changing experience. I received a piece of God’s love that day. I received a piece of confidence. I honestly don’t even know what happened, but it changed me, and it changed my journey. I wouldn’t even be able to explain exactly what changed and what happened. My nursing journey changed after this too. I figured out what was causing my struggles and had a peaceful journey from then on and never struggled again. But even before I figured it out, it changed. It was a night and day difference.

At the end of the year Micah was hired back on full time at the car dealership. Before he got his job back full time, he was doing a side job for someone. It was around Christmas time. The fun thing about side jobs was that I often was able to come with him with Ezra. I remember this particular time he had finished the job and we were saying goodbye. Right before we left, this person paid Micah and said “merry Christmas,” and put 100 dollars in his hands. This was much more than what had been promised!

It was the beginning of the year now, 2016. The apartment was still as cold as it was the winter before. We were sharing a room with Ezra, he was 8ish months old by now. We decided to move our bed into the dining room (which was about the same size as our bed) and let Ezra have the bedroom. It was mainly because he would wake up often when we’d come in at night, and I didn’t like not being able to to talk before bedtime. It honestly changed everything. We loved having the bed there, and it made it feel so cozy. We would put the space heater in his room at night and it would stay decently okay. We had a lot of blankets covering his windows and it was a smaller space so that helped. Whenever we’d put the space heater back into our main space where our bed was in the morning, I remember it always showing crazy low temperatures. It was like we were camping in our own house, in the winter. I slept in my bathrobe with lots of blankets and it honestly wasn’t that bad, but do remember my nose getting cold😂. I remember thinking, “I’ll look back on this one day”. With Georgia being Georgia, the difference in temperature between day and night was always big, so the day time was much better. Eventually we had two space heaters, and different curtains, really thick and long curtains, which helped a ton to keep it steady around 60-65 degrees. I think the windows were the main issue, they were really old and you could feel the wind come through them when you’d sit next to them. That’s why the different curtains made such a big difference.

It was around this same time that we were asked to house sit for some people which was a huge blessing, because it meant that we would sleep in a heated house. God knew. We would house sit a week, maybe once a month. I do remember it being harder to go back to the apartment in the day time, because the difference in temperature was so big between their house and our apartment.

It was also in this time that I finally got a phone! My dad had given me his old phone while I was in The Netherlands, and we were able to finally get it to work with Straighttalk. This of course changed a lot for me. Where before I had needed to walk to the library to ask Micah something, I now could just text him. It was wild. I hadn’t had a phone for a year and a half. I also had more opportunities for fellowship because it was easier to text people. At the same time it also conflicted me, because phones can be such a distraction.

Micah was working full time at the car dealership, and he was also working on Saturdays for someone else at this point. Often he made over hours at the dealership. I remember the last few months being rough. He was gone a lot. We were starting to think about moving, and I was starting to really want to move. Ezra was moving around now and there wasn’t a lot of space for him. We also wanted to have more children. It was towards the very end of our season at West Main Street that we were having a little extra money here and there, because Micah was working a lot but also, because we were getting finished paying off our midwife, our loan and my greencard. Micah and I made a deal, that every Saturday after he got done working, we would eat out somewhere cheap, while getting our groceries. We would turn grocery shopping into a date. It was the absolute highlight of my week.

I was working through discontentment, and I continued to be reminded to be faithful with the little things. My prayer always was for God to help me take good care of what we had. I remember thinking “how can He entrust me with more, if I’m not taking care of the little that I have”. “How can he entrust me with better, if I’m not thanking Him and grateful for what I have right now”. And I would actively thank him for our home when I felt discontent and ungrateful, sometimes against everything I was feeling. Our neighbors would often wake up Ezra from his naps, they would stand right next to his window and holler at one an other and I would feel so done. Ambulances woke him up frequently as well. I hadn’t ever imagined living there still at this point, and did struggle with it. I prayed for months that God would bring us to a different place and provide a different place for us to live and grow our family.

The neighbors who lived in the basement, with the grandparents upstairs, in the house next to us had moved out. There was a sign that it was up for rent. We went to go look at it. When we walked in, it was the most filthy space I had ever encountered. There were hundreds of dead cockroaches (and I’m not even exaggerating), and the carpet was so gross, there was still some furniture left with rips everywhere. We also looked at the basement where they had lived and we both just couldn’t believe that an entire family had lived there in those conditions. I thought to myself “and here I thought I had it bad”. It was unreal, and so sad and so dark. We prayed that they had found a better place, and it was a realization that a lot of people in our town in this neighborhood lived in these kind of conditions.

In april of 2016 we had been searching for a house for awhile. We had paid everything off (which was an absolute miracle!) and were now able to afford a bigger place. After a long search we found a little two bedroom house in our price range. We had done all the calculations and came to the conclusion that we could do it. We had family help us get enough for the down payment, and we moved into this little house mid April. Our season at West Main Street came to an end, and a new season had begun, and this was just the beginning of our journey. In the months and years to come we realized how much of an impact this season had on our life, and how it really set the tone for our future.

Pic 1: Ezra on one of our many walks

Pic2: our bedroom before we moved our bed into dining room

Pic3: doing our morning bible time outside

Pic4: the way our apartment looked just weeks before we moved. It was home.

Pic5: Corey aka “the toothless wonder”

Pic6: our little kitchen.

Pic 7: our side of the apartment

Pic8: Micah always making us the best food

Last pic: family selfie

[fuwafuwamedb]

A Church Visit (GilHaku)

“Christianity…” Hakuno stared at the requested topic for her report, her mind running over her options for getting the paper done.

To be fair, she’d had time. There was no reason that she hadn’t been able to do it except for the fact that she had made an elective decision to not succumb to the great narcolepsy that consumed her as soon as she cracked open the Bible. She’d gone to train with a handful of mages instead, staying up late into the night and going to school and even earning an extension on the paper she needed to turn in because of “family reasons”.

Her self-created family wasn’t going to be able to avoid a visit in the future if she tried that again. She’d need to get the paper done.

Reading was no longer an option though. Even if she did manage to break that bad boy open, there was no way she was going to be devouring hymns and stories enough by dawn to even begin the paper. She’d be writing all the way to the classroom and being caught finishing up her paper by the teacher.

Playing sick wouldn’t work either.

Which left- She was going to have to go and talk to a priest.

A one on one interview.

She’d ask questions about a few stories that had seemed at least semi-interesting and then she’d book it for the door to crank out a half-assed paper. It got turned in, she got her good grade.

Her continuation in a decent class continued.

Entering the church, she eyed the perspectives.

A couple members of the place were scrubbing the floors, interesting people to interview. She had no doubt that they’d be more than happy to stop their work…

The tattoos had her hesitating though. The scars that zigzagged over their hands and the way they seemed to move had her hesitating as well. There was something going on with that. They looked more like they were hiding out.

The red on one’s arm, which the other quickly pointed out and began to help him quickly clean up had her moving away quickly.

Very unsavory.

Another was standing at the front of the church, his back turned.

Vibes alone had her avoiding that man.

He seemed to almost radiate an aura of, ‘if you get close, you will realize I am nothing more than a snake in the guise of a man.’ Or maybe he just said, ‘remember the snake in the garden of Eden? Welcome Eve, come have a visit with me. Apples available on request.’

Again, she skirted that man.

The blond that came up the stairs had her relieved.

True, he looked out of place, but he was wearing priest robes.

Foreigner by looks alone, she could probably get a good spiel about Christianity and God and be on her merry way with this guy thinking he had possibly made a new Christian out of her.

It was perfect.

“Excuse me!”

She was going to use the most basic Japanese that she knew with this guy.

The man glanced back at her, stopping as he caught sight of her.

She didn’t even pause.

“Hello, Father.” She told him. “I am here to ask about Christianity. Can I ask you questions?”

He raised an eyebrow at her.

She pointed at his cross. “You’re Christian. Can I ask about Jesus?”

That was like the main god in Christianity, right?

The man smirked a little, motioning her along with him. “What is your name?”

Oh, he sounded fluent.

Perhaps she had judged him too quickly.

“My name is Kishinami Hakuno,” Hakuno told him. She smiled a little more, following him down further and further into the depths of the church. “Have you been a priest long?”

“You could say I have only just begun to learn about it.”

Not good, but-

“So you’ve read the stories,” Hakuno offered.

“From the first to the last page.”

This man was her ticket to success. Her arm went around his, a relieved smile coming to her face as she held onto him.

“You have no idea how nice that is to hear. I have to write a report for school and get it in to my teacher and I haven’t managed to learn a thing about the religion.”

He seemed offputting, but it was probably just the fact that she was going into the bowels of what felt like a big hole with him.

“What do you need to know?”

“Anything interesting. The writing was…” Boring. Awful. Written by someone impossibly longwinded. “Ambiguous.”

“You mean boring.”

This man was amazing.

Hakuno stumbled a bit on the last few stairs, being caught by the blond.

“Sorry,” she told him.

“Let me make something for you and I to drink and we can discuss your questions and perhaps get your report finished.”

He would help with the paper?!

Oh man.

Hakuno couldn’t help but beam at him.

Her hand was in his, squeezing it a little as they moved to a sitting room and the man began to make some tea in the countered area of the room.

A cup of wine for himself, a cup of tea before her; they began.

He was patient. He was elaborate in his explanations. She typed his answers in and slowly built in some transitional nonsense here and there as the man brewed her a second cup of tea and excused himself to keep others from the room.

The paper was actually done.

She stared at the finished product, feeling a little dizzy from the relief.

Actually, she forwarded the report to her teacher in an email to be safe.

She wasn’t going to miss points just because she forgot to print it at home or anything. No, if the paper was with her teacher, then she would be fine.

“Is it done?”

“It is.” Hakuno smiled at him, finishing that second cup of tea and smiling his way. “Thank you so much… Um…”

“Gilgamesh.”

Gilgamesh?

His parents must have hated him to name him a mouthload like that.

“Ah, I see.” The man set his wineglass down, grinning a little. “You are before all of it. You are the original, without the pains or the stress. I had been curious as to why you had not recognized me from the start. Actually inquiring with me about something as mundane as religion.”

He was snorting.

Why did she feel lethargic?

“What?”

“Naturally, you are tired,” Gilgamesh comforted, moving over to her side and wrapping an arm around her waist. “You came just when you were needed. Impeccable timing.”

She could feel her vision blurring a little.

“Rest a moment,” he told her. “I can prepare things.”

Prepare…

She could feel herself being carried, voices murmuring in the distance.

For a time, all she could hear was the sound of a heart pounding near her ear. She could hear her breathing and feel movement around her.

What had happened?

Had it been the tea that had had something in it?

Was she even safe?

Opening her eyes, she looked around at the room, finding herself in the sitting area from before.

Perhaps, she’d dozed off?

That would have been awkward. Maybe she’d just been set off by the people upstairs and had dozed off at one point while the man had been getting her something more to drink.

She was probably just-

Her mind stopped at the feel of the fabrics against her person. There was so much satin, the skirts thick and with golden markings near the bottom. The sleeves were billowy, with the same markings of gold along the hem of the sleeves. She reached up, feeling the lace veil.

Was…

Was she in a wedding dress?

It was time to go.

Grabbing the skirts, she hoisted them up enough and found her feet wobbling a bit in the heels underneath. She could feel the slight tug of a set of hooks holding up stockings. A pair of white and gold heels poking out from beneath her dress.

This was not a place to be.

She had class tomorrow, for starters.

She had class tomorrow, as a main point.

Her feet were wobbling a little more as she tried to hurry up the stairs.

She had to go, she needed to-

A wave of exhaustion took over again as she felt an arm wrap around her waist.

“Would you look at that?” The blond from before purred, “a runaway bride.”

She wasn’t a runaway anything. She was a student who-

The man leaned himself close, his hand going to her cheek.

Data streams.

Labyrinths and monsters.

The mocking laugh of an enemy in the distance.

Deletion.

She pressed closer to the man holding her, trying to breathe through what she was seeing. She wasn’t sure what was going on and she didn’t like it.

“It confuses me too,” the blond confessed. “Do you see us though? You are important. It must be from when I win the grail,” he murmured. “You are the one that I decided upon. I did not think that you would simply stroll into the church to find me so soon.”

She wasn’t…

Why had she reached out to him in those visions?

“You will be a fine bride,” the man purred, pulling her along with him. She felt like she was being pulled into the tides of a great river, further and further away from the shore and land that she knew so well. She could feel him pulling her through a selection of rooms, taking her by the hand and calling forth to another in the church.

The man she’d avoided on pure aura alone was before her, frowning at her.

“King Gilgamesh,” the man started.

“If you will not, I will find another.”

“…It is not that.”

A hand was around her waist still as she felt the man open his book and begin to recite the passage.

The jargon was always so long. Why was the nonsense so long? She couldn’t pay attention to this to save her life, especially right now. She had seen things, memories of a sort. It had felt like a whisper of mana that had gone through her mind. Had the man really transferred memory to her?

Her eyes drifted over to the blond, finding herself leaning against him more for support.

He glanced over at her, agreeing to something.

The priest called her name out.

She stared at him, listening to the words but thinking only about how disturbing the man looked. He was someone that she really didn’t want to be around right now.

He was just plain creepy.

“Hakuno?”

“Hmm?” She blinked.

“Do you agree?”

“Ah- Yes, I do.”

Leaving, right?

No, that must not have been it. He was prattling on again. A sermon of a thing going on now as she felt her mind drifting off again.

Her eyes drifted back over to the blond at her side only to find his arm around her pulling her closer.

“You may kiss your bride and take her from my church, Gilgamesh.”

Bride?

Wait!

A pair of lips pressed against hers, the taste of wine and bitter things on his lips. The air was gone, her mind was too weak for this right now.

Her hand pressed against his chest, but she was trapped.

There was so little air that her head was spinning when he pulled back.

“I am taking my woman home.”

“I will expect a better explanation than threats tomorrow.”

“I will be busy,” the blond told him.

“Explain within a week.”

The man waved the priest off, leaving Hakuno to gasp as she was lifted up into Gilgamesh’s arms. Then there was cold air against her face. There was a world of night around her and the stairs in the heavens above all but hiding away.

“Ah, this will be ours soon,” the king told her. “Everything you see before you will be wiped away, leaving the survivors of my plans to rebuild Uruk.”

She had no idea what he was talking about.

Her face pressed against his chest as she closed her eyes once more.

“Hakuno?”

No, she didn’t want to move.

Enough confusion.

“I’m surprised. I expected your accommodations to be smaller,” a voice told her from the depths of the darkness around her.

She could feel herself laid down on a soft mattress.

She could feel a pair of lips pressing to hers again, gentler this time.

“Tomorrow I will partake in what is mine. For tonight, you need to sleep off the priest’s tea.”

Tea?

Right. The tea…

Her eyes closed a moment.

They opened to the sun streaming through her window. Her moved quietly, wiping at her eyes a little before she glanced down.

The white dress from before was still in place.

Her eyes drifted back to the man slumbering away in her bed, wearing a suit without a tie. His blond hair was in disarray. His body was stretched out, inching a little in her direction as though he had sensed her leave.

She couldn’t really get up.

The dress was heavier than she remembered. Well, that and she was just plain tired.

“Hakuno?”

She looked over at him, finding the blond reaching over and pulling her slowly to himself. His lips teased kisses with her.

“Rest. You will need your strength.”

“What happened to my clothes?”

“They were pitiful and I had a woman to secure. Thankfully you had an interest in Christianity already and were more than happy to willingly say ‘I do’ to me last night.”

Oh no.

She hadn’t-

Her body was pulled closer, a gentle shushing coming from the man as she felt a kiss against her neck.

“You will be a fine queen for the future. I shall groom you to be so myself.

God help her.

If he did exist.

[mediaeval-muse]

Video Game Review: GreedFall (Spiders, 2018)

Genres: action RPG, fantasy

Premise: Players assume the role of De Sardet, a human noble who arrives on the recently-discovered island of Teer Fradee. Able to ally with either the natives who inhabit the land and/or any of the foreign nations competing to colonize it, De Sardet seeks out a cure for the mysterious illness that plagues their family, while also battling monsters and magic.

Platform Played On: PC (Windows)

Rating: 3/5 stars

Disclaimer: My rating is in response to multiple aspects of the game, not just its politics. If I were evaluating solely on politics and gave the developers the benefit of the doubt that they were trying to make something with a good message, my rating would be around the 1 to 2-star range, depending on player choices.

***Full review under the cut.***

I am evaluating this game based on four key aspects: story, characters, gameplay, and visuals.

Story: I’m immediately wary of any pop culture item that tries to tell a story about colonialism and Indigeneity because it usually ends up indulging in colonialist fantasies rather than critiquing them. Complex, morally-grey stories are great and all, but when it comes to tales about colonialism, “both sides” narratives tend to look a little insensitive. So, I can’t tell you why I decided to play GreedFall, other than I heard that it filled the Dragon Age-sized hole in people’s hearts. Since I’d rather use my own judgment than read video game reviews, I bought this game on sale and gave it a go. If nothing else, I told myself, I could use my history and literary analysis chops to say something intelligent about it.

In terms of politics, I don’t think GreedFall was as terrible as games where the goal in itself is colonization, but I also don’t think it achieved a narrative that was critical enough of colonization. De Sardet’s primary goal is to achieve balance between all the nations (which I’m calling factions because they’re mostly that). While I can admire that GreedFall really pushed for peaceful relationships, as well as pushed back against abuse and racism, I ultimately thought the developers didn’t consider how the struggle for balance actually facilitates colonialism. This game presents colonialism a diplomatic issue, so as a result, Teer Fradee is kind of a fantasy where colonists can settle on native land while maintaining friendly relationships with Indigenous peoples (at least, if you play it that way - at worst, you can seize absolute power). The experience was similar to the one I had playing BioShock Infinite, whose politics involve a “both sides” argument - the difference is that BioShock Infinite made explicitly clear by the end of the game that Booker was the true villain. With de Sardet, it’s a bit more ambiguous, depending on how you play, but I do think the game pushes you to be diplomatic rather than power-hungry. As a whole, it brings up the very valid question of whether or not colonialism should be in media period, or if there’s some value to be derived from consuming problematic media that tries to do good and talking about it.

Still, I have to give credit where credit is due. GreedFall had the guts to actually try to tackle little-discussed themes in this game, such as forced conversion, abuse within the sciences, and institutionalized bullying. While the missions associated with these big themes were accomplished with varying degrees of success, many of them added emotional depth to the game. Companions would have emotional reactions to these quests that tugged at my heartstrings, and there were never any shots of graphic violence or mutilated bodies, so it didn’t feel like I was playing the game for an edgy thrill. All of the side quests had a lot of bearing on the main plot and the worldbuilding - I don’t think I encountered any “fetch quests,” so most of the things I was doing actually related to enhancing my understanding of the world and its social dynamics.

The game also did a good job of presenting players with factions that were constantly in conflict with one another, lending an added layer of complexity to all the political aspects of the plot. Character’s personal quests were also very well done and had emotional depth. Vasco’s arc about learning about his true family was a nice exploration of birth family vs found family (he’s a sailor whose birth family gave him to the naval faction, the Nauts). Kurt’s quest was also a good one about the bonds between military recruits and really showed his commitment to people over institutions (he’s de Sardet’s commander at arms). Siora’s quests were more about staying true to her culture (she’s a native and daughter of one of a now-deceased tribe leader), while Aphra’s were about learning to be open minded when learning about a different culture (she’s a scientist interested in plants). Petrus’ were a mix of taking down the head of his Church and helping your character find their roots (he’s something of a pastor who also wields magic to fight). You can tell that the developers were inspired by Bioware games in that you can cultivate reputations with your companions and eventually romance them. Many of these romances are available to both male and female PCs, so there’s potential for a queer ship.

I will say that by the end of game, I was emotionally wrecked, despite all the political problems. So, I do think the developers of this game have a good sense of storytelling - I just wish they had done better politically.

Characters: Similar to Mass Effect or Dragon Age, GreedFall gives players a player-controlled character (PC) and a host of companions to take on an adventuring party. De Sardet, the PC, doesn’t have much personality when they’re being diplomatic, but I did enjoy the moments when they were confronted with information that impacted them emotionally. I played a female de Sardet, and the voice actress did a good job of balancing emotion with the facade that’s required of a diplomat. Constantin, de Sardet’s cousin and governor of New Serene (one of a few colonial settlements on Teer Fradee), is also carefully written as a charismatic, sympathetic nobleman’s son who wants to prove his worth. He and de Sardet share a close bond, which made moral decisions a bit more personal and emotionally difficult. I do think he became a scapegoat for all the evils of colonization, though, and I wish more was done with him to implicate every colonizer on the island. The companions are likewise very likable and fairly unique. Each of them had personal quests and stories that were compelling and sympathetic. I do wish there had been more opportunities to chat with them, or that they talked to each other during exploration (like Bioware companions do). I also appreciated that the Teer Fradee natives weren’t one, homogeneous group. I think too often we see pop culture try to write Indigenous peoples as having the same culture and goals, but with this game, there was some variety regarding what the best course of action would be against an invading force. I’m sure, however, that the depiction of the natives overall was problematic, but I’m not well-versed enough in native representation in pop culture to articulate the issues. While they weren’t portrayed as primitive or child-like (at least, I didn’t think so), I don’t doubt that there were tropes in there that I just couldn’t recognize (for example, Siora maybe a Chief’s Daughter/Indian Princess trope - it’s complicated). I suggest finding and reading an Indigenous critique of the game. (There’s also this one, which is valid, and I do think the game’s efforts and failures are worth talking about.)

Gameplay: This RPG mainly relies on balancing skills, talents, and attributes. Skills define what weapons you can use and how (one-handed blades, two-handed blades, firearms, magic, etc). Talents are things like charisma, science, or lockpicking - stuff which will affect the way you interact with the world. Attributes are mental and physical abilities like strength or willpower which affect how you wield weapons. Overall, the process of leveling up and gaining points to spend in these areas was pretty straight-forward, and I enjoyed the mental challenge of building a character that fit my play style.

Combat was a little clunky; basic attacks ran just fine for me, but there wasn’t much grace in the way characters dodged or rolled. I also kept getting thrown off by the fact that you can’t press space to jump! But in all, it wasn’t the worst experience. Enemies had helpful health bars, and I enjoyed the combination of a pistol and a rapier to finish off my foes. The diplomatic elements were by far the best part of gameplay for me. If players assign their skill points well, de Sardet can use a number of different tactics and choose from multiple dialogue options, from intimidation to taking advantage of intuition to laying on the charisma. It was fun to figure out which tactic would work on which characters, and how my skill sets translated into consequences for my decisions. I do think, however, that more options could have been presented to players in terms of dialogue choices and role-playing elements. While players make important choices regarding how to handle any given situation, there was little opportunity to purely role play. More opportunities to influence the direction or tone of the dialogue in non-crucial situations, I think, would have helped and made my De Sardet feel more unique.

Visuals: Aesthetically, I very much appreciated that we were given a fantasy game that wasn’t set in the faux Middle Ages. I loved the 18th century vibe to all the clothing and town layouts, and each of the maps were distinct and fully-realized, from the urban settings to the natural ones. There was a bit of repetition in the urban layouts; the palaces, for example, were the same, and some houses were recycled, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as Dragon Age II. I also appreciated that there were people of various races and genders in all positions and all social circles. There were women in the guard, women working on ships, and so on, without any hint that it was unusual. There was also a fairly wide variety of skin tones, with people of color being included in higher social classes and not relegated to lowly servant roles. There are some problems in that “diversity washing” detracts from the racial conflicts that were very present in the 18th century. I don’t think the developers thought through the implications of putting POC in positions of power where they could commit violent colonial acts against the natives. The creatures on the island were interesting to look at. Their designs frequently combined natural imagery (such as vines and wood) with horror to create foes with an eldritch, elemental vibe. The same creepiness was reflected in the fictional disease that afflicts the colonists; the afflicted had black, vine-like tendrils running through the skin, and there was an impending sense of dread whenever I looked at someone who was infected. Despite all the things I liked, GreedFall’s biggest problem is its animation. For a game that was made in 2019, facial expressions and combat are quite clunky, to the point where the characters felt robotic. I understand that not every video game needs to have top-tier level animation, but playing GreedFall was similar to my experiences playing the first Witcher game or the first Mass Effect or Dragon Age: Origins games. Still technically playable, but it feels very outdated.

In-Game Triggers: violence (especially racial violence), colonialism, racism, religious zealotry, torture, 

I feel the need to point out that while I don’t think this game is gory or explicit in any way (PG-13 would be my rating), there are some scenes that people may find triggering. There’s also one where a Native is killed by a religious zealot, and I found it extremely upsetting (it happens when you first enter San Matheus, if you need a heads up). Other than that, you never actually see characters torture native peoples, but you do hear about it later.

Recommendations: I would recommend this game if you’re interested in the 18th century, the age of imperialism, role-playing games, and fantasy. You might also like this game if you’re a fan of Bioware RPGs.

[lailelizabeth]

Not too long after we shot actress Elizabeth Lail for a fashion story and on location in very very cold New York City, we got cozy at our HQ to record this podcast. 

Eloquent + fully present...talented, beautiful, and smart Elizabeth embodies all the qualities of a big star. She’s an actors actor, and, well, just a wonderful person. She’s rapidly built a loyal fan base, due to the cult following of Netflix series You and her character on the series, Beck.

And so we decided on this podcast to include some truly terrific questions from those very fans. We discuss her reverence for her craft, what to expect from You Season 2, her character, Leah, in beautiful indie film Unintended, and what it’s like to work on the set of a horror film. We talk her commitment to sustainability, her footwear of choice, her favorite books on acting, recommendations for what to catch on broadway, how she preps her skin before shooting, her idea of a perfect date night, and more. Listen in to hear the answers to all of your fan questions! 

Podcast link

Tamara Rappa: So you studied acting in North Carolina. What's it like being in school for acting, and were there ever plans to come to New York for school?

Elizabeth Lail: I went to University of North Carolina School of the Arts for high school my senior year, and that molded my whole trajectory because, all of a sudden, I was surrounded by fellow artists. I was surrounded by my people. I didn't really know what the possibilities were in my small town. There aren't very many actors coming out of it. I fell in love with the school, so I wanted to go to college there. I drank all the Kool-Aid. I think I applied to maybe one school in New York, but the dream was to continue at the School of the Arts, and then move to New York or LA---I wasn't sure which.

TR: What do your friends do? Are they other actors? Other creatives?

EL: I would say it's split down the middle. You know, some people are really anti-actor…

TR: They are? Like friends from home, from a long time ago?

EL: I know people who are like, "Oh, I try to be around normal people."

TR: You're very normal.

EL: Oh, thank you. I love actors and I love artists. And then I love dentists and business people....

TR: You have a mixed group of friends.

EL: Totally.

TR: How does acting feed your soul?

EL: It's probably my number one source of food. It demands the truth from me, and so it's this really intense bullshit meter for me as a person, and as an instrument. It provides intense catharsis, I'm always questioning and challenging myself. It also demands that I be fully present.

TR: That's beautiful. Have you always wanted to act? I mean, were you a small child dreaming of this? What's your first memory of "I want to be a performer?"

EL: I didn't, again, know what the possibilities were at such a young age, but my sister and I were making home movies, and I would play every character in the movie. We had the board game Clue, and we loved that movie. So I played every character in Clue along with the board game. I'd be the Professor, and then Miss Scarlet. I wore a big sheet. So I guess I've been doing it forever, and I didn't realize until maybe I was 14 that that it could be a career path.

TR: What other things do you do to exercise your creativity, or is all your focus on acting these days? You've got a lot going on.

EL: Well I do take acting class, and I love it. It depends on the class, but if you find a teacher that you really love, it feels like going to church for your artistic spirit. But I feel like everything feeds my acting. Even just riding the subway. The more present I am in my real life, the more inspiration I'm taking in. I like to see theater. I like to be inspired by watching other things. I journal a lot, and also any kind of emotional response or anything I'm inspired by---I write down. I find later that it will tend to tie in with something I need for a character, or you just never know. So the world is so inspirational to me. Travel…everything feeds the actor's spirit, I think.

TR: How do you journal? Do you literally write things down? It's not in a Notes app on your phone? It's a book that you keep by your bedside?

EL: It's a book. I've got one in my bag. I have a light one for walking around, but I have a big, big, heavy one at home. Usually I journal first thing in the morning. It's usually stream of consciousness.

TR: Morning pages?

EL:Yeah. It's a little bit like The Artist's Way, morning pages, but I don't necessarily follow any strict kind of order. And sometimes, it's gratitude. Sometimes it's stream of consciousness, and then sometimes I feel like something is trying to speak to me.

TR: Ideas.

EL: Ideas, yeah. That's why it's always kind of worth going back to the page because you never really know what's going to reveal itself to you. And even sometimes if I'm working on a scene in the morning during that writing time, it just comes.

TR: Wow. That's powerful.

EL: It's what is wanting to be worked on, in my unconscious brain.

TR: A powerful tool. What does the book look like? Where do you get this book? This big, beautiful, heavy book?

EL: You know what's interesting about that one, it was a gift from Ferragamo, so it actually is really beautiful. But normally, journals find you. They're given to you or you buy one and you forget to use it, and then you're like, ‘oh, I have this great journal.’ They are untapped potential.

TR: Describe how your fame came on. What was it like hitting a million followers and acquiring a fan base? What is it like? Do you detach from it in some way?

EL: Oh boy, you know. I'm a little detached from it.

TR: You have to just keep being you, and doing the work.

EL: Yes. I think I was more excited when I got like 500,000 followers. That was a big milestone. And then after that you're like, ‘I'm still figuring this out, how am I going to use Instagram? What does it mean to me? How is this going to be a part of my work?’ I’m a little conflicted, because there's a school of thought where the more people know about you, the more exposure you have, the less believable you are as a character. All of a sudden your mystique goes away.

TR: Right. There are some actors that could never do certain roles, because they're so known for ...

EL: ...for something. And they certainly can do those roles. But it might take the audience a minute to readjust their brains.

EL: But obviously I have Instagram, and mostly I'm just really grateful. I think kind of hitting the million mark, in a way, could be really wonderful for my career. But I don't know that yet. You know, the hope is that people cast you based off of your work. And if you can serve the project with any kind of like following ...

TR: 100%. And, visibility.

EL: Visibility. Yes. Then it’s a great thing. That's always a great thing. Especially if you're making something smaller that really means something to you, that maybe needs a platform to get the word out. So it's exciting.

TR: Well, I will say, you have some lovely fans. And they've got some wonderful questions for you that we’re going to get to.

EL: I do. Oh, exciting!

TR: How are we seeing Beck in season two of You? And how is the series different this season?

EL: I mean, she’s back-ish. Right? Beck is back-ish. What was really cool about shooting season two though, is that we were in LA, which is very different than New York. And I would be in full Beck gear.

TR: Let’s talk about that. What is full Beck gear? What is Beck's look?

EL: Excellent question. Beck has curled hair that's meant to be kind of like undone, yet done. It's a little shorter than mine at the moment, and she always wears lots of jewelry. She has a staple necklace that's beautiful.

TR: What is the staple necklace exactly?

EL: It is a half moon with a diamond in it. It's made by Melissa Joy Manning.

TR: I love Melissa Joy Manning. She's a friend of mine. I love her jewelry.

EL: She's amazing. No way. I’ve become such a fan.

TR: We should go meet her. I could use a new piece from her!

EL: Yes we should go to her shop in Brooklyn. I've never been and I've been wanting to go, and I have really beautiful pieces from her. And obviously Beck would not be able to have a Melissa Joy Manning necklace, but in the world of television, she does! Beck is very much jeans. She likes a French tuck, and some kind of jacket. She's a little bit more small-town-dresser, I think, for someone who lives in New York. Keeping it pretty simple and as affordable as possible is Beck's look. And then boots, she's a boot girl. I would be in LA in the Beck getup, and people would recognize me as her and they would get so excited. That's something that's really different. Obviously when we were shooting season one, people were, you know, ‘what are you making? What's happening here?’

TR: In which parts of LA would you shoot?

EL: We were in Los Feliz, when we would go out in the world. And then in the Atwater village area.

TR: So that's a main difference between season one and season two, location.

EL: Yeah. And those are pretty defining. New York and LA are very defining cities, experience-wise. Have you spent a lot of time in LA? I have. I feel like I've lived there.

TR: I'm a native New Yorker and I lived in LA for years.

EL: My thoughts are that in LA, they have great food. Because I'm a vegan, and it's lovely to eat there.

TR: You can find fantastic food in LA.

EL: Healthy food everywhere. But I prefer New York. I'm much more inspired by New York.

TR: Everyone can watch you in the wonderful indie film, Unintended. It's currently on cable, Direct TV, Prime Video, iTunes, Google play.[Everyone] should see this film. It's terrific. Was it draining playing someone so mentally tormented and well, drug addicted? She was sort of addicted to her medication.

EL: Yes. It is draining, but I think acting is draining in general because you are giving so much of yourself. And that aspect, yes, because she is kind of always in this state of distress.

TR: That's what it is. It's more than being mentally tortured. Your character Leah is in a state of distress.

EL: She’s kind of figuring out her life. I would really have to go home and just do absolutely nothing every day.

TR: Is that right?

EL: That's the key. You just go home, you shower, you eat a little dinner and then you read, you do something else. Something nice for yourself.

TR: The production itself is beautiful, and I love how it contrasts with some of the difficult subject matter like physical abuse, alcoholism, painful divorce. Where did you shoot? It was beautiful.

EL: We were in Kingston, in and around Kingston, in upstate New York, in Minnewaska State Park. I love it up there. Since we've shot there, I go visit that area twice a year.

TR: It's a magical location.

EL: It's beautiful and all those little towns, you know, Woodstock, and Kingston---they all have cute restaurants. And then there's nature. I think when you live in New York you forget that.

TR: All of it is...

EL: ...so close by.

TR: In Unintended, Leah travels upstate with her father at one point in the film, but ends up spending her days there with longtime friend, Sam. How did she explain that to her father? We see her traveling upstate with her father, and he's going off to do a conference of some sort, and then she ends up spending a few days with Sam. Does she just decide that that's how she's going to spend her time upstate, because she needs some questions answered?

EL: Exactly. I think that her relationship with Sam is maybe closer to an actual father than her relationship with her dad. Sam was a little bit older. He was always kind of around, almost like a babysitter at times for her when she was young.

TR: And he was nurturing to her in some ways. He would feed her.

EL: He nurtured that wild and uninhibited spirit. And not that her parents weren't there. I just think that once the divorce happened, that was her breaking point, and she kind of shut down. That's the beginning of the shut-down, as early as their divorce when she's 11, or I guess she's 13. She's young. I think her relationship with her dad is strained. With her mom there's not a whole lot of communication going on, especially from her side, reasoning-wise.

TR: Did Leah shoot Bill? I wasn't sure.

EL: She didn’t. She did shoot the gun. I think it's meant to be unclear, but my understanding is that she didn't actually shoot him. It was just the fall that was so harsh for him, and so was being stuck down there. He basically was scared by the sound of the gun, and fell back into this cavern.

TR: What became of Leah's mother? Do we know?

EL: No she doesn't come up.

TR: I found that to be intriguing.

EL: I think it speaks to her current state. Her mother is somewhat villainized in the beginning, because she's the one having the affair. So she is essentially the one who breaks the family. And so I think that from Leah's perspective, her mom is not someone she wants to be close with. It’s such a painful break, especially if you felt like things were so stable for most of your life. So, yeah. We don't really know.

TR: What happens to Leah, do you think, after she finally understands this devastating time in her past and makes peace with Bill, what does she become? What does she go off and do in life?

EL: My hope is that she becomes an author of a novel. My hope is that she goes to therapy and moves back to nature, moves out of New York, becomes an author, and writes this story.

TR: Do she and Bill become a couple?

EL: I don't know. That's wishful movie magic thinking. Because he's got some issues. If they do become a couple, there are some struggles coming their way.

TR: And does she reconcile with her father?

EL: I hope so, I hope so. Sometimes I feel like the people we love the most are the last ones to get our grace and forgiveness and patience, so who knows?

TR: You also star in Countdown, recently in theaters. The horror film genre is hugely popular with people. What's the set of a horror film like?

EL: It's so fun. This one was so fun. It was exciting for me, because horror isn't necessarily my genre---I get really easily scared. And so if I'm going to watch a horror movie, it's got to be at home, where I can turn the sound off and block my eyes. But making one is really exciting because you get to do a lot of stunts, and there's all this incredible hair and makeup. Everyone was just so happy and grateful to be there. That's always the best set to be on, in any genre. To be with people who just love making movies.

TR: You were also a series regular on Video Syncrasy from David Fincher, based on the music industry and music videos in the eighties. Your character is a stylist’s assistant.

EL: But my character wanted to be a singer. She wanted to be Stevie Nicks.

TR: How did that project with David Fincher, a genius, come about?

EL: The show never saw the light of day. Sorry guys! You can't watch this.

TR: I watched a scene where you were unpacking garment bags and there's a garment rack behind you. I was like, ‘look at Elizabeth, living the story of my life’.

EL: I was so sore that day.

TR: The schlep of the fashion editor and the stylist...

EL: My shoulders were in pain. I think I got a massage therapist on that show, because it was so painful, carrying all the garment bags. And now when I see that in New York, I have a newfound respect.

TR: How did you first get interested in sustainability, and what do you do in your day to day life to create change?

EL: I became a vegan first and foremost almost four years ago, and that was really when I realized the environmental impact of animal agriculture. I was already vegetarian, because I love animals, and I thought, ‘I can do this, this can be my contribution’.

TR: Is there something specific that made you go from vegetarian to vegan?

EL: I saw Cowspiracy. It's a documentary.

TR: That's on my list. I haven't seen it yet.

EL: And of course everyone who watches says, ‘I'm going to become vegan.’ And maybe they do it for a week. It can be very difficult to do. And everyone I watched it with were like, ‘we're all going to do it’. I think I'm still the only one doing it. That was my beginning of living a more mindful life. It immediately requires you to be more mindful about what you're eating, which before, was a pretty mindless practice for me.

TR: For a lot of people I think.

EL: All of a sudden you become a little more mindful about, ‘What am I buying? How much waste am I creating? What am I only using once? What am I doing with my clothes?’ The whole world opens up, and all these questions come at you.

EL: On my Obsixed list, is the Package Free store. It opened in my neighborhood and I walked in, I was like, ‘this is amazing’. You start picking things up and you're like, ‘I didn't realize there was another option for cotton swabs, for taking off my makeup’. I didn't realize how much waste I was creating in my beauty routine. That's a huge thing. I'm definitely a victim of the skincare obsession. The good news is, like anything, you just do little things at a time. I think the first thing I got was a reusable mug and I love it. I have a KeepCup. Aesthetically, it's very pretty. And I have a S’well water bottle. Those are the easiest changes to make because, especially in New York, you just put them in your tote bag and the coffee shop remembers you. They know your order, they're like, ‘here's the girl with her own cup’. You'd be surprised, everyone is very down to make those kinds of changes. You just start saying no to moments of single use plastic or straws. I'm at the beginning of that journey and that's why I'm obsessed with it right now, because I'm exploring. I'm becoming very aware, and hoping to do so much more.

TR: We have your Obsixed list of current obsessions [listed below], but let’s also do a lighting round of favorites. Favorite food?

EL: Enchiladas.

TR: Favorite way to spend date night?

EL: Reading on the couch by a fireplace.

TR: Favorite way to prepare for a first day of shooting on set?

EL: Eye masks. I use a lot of Skyn Iceland

TR: Favorite movie? Can you even pick?

EL: In Bruges or The Road to El Dorado.

TR: Favorite skincare item?

EL: I love Dr. Hauschka's Rose Day Cream. I love the way that it smells. It makes me happy. You have to press it into your skin, so you have to go slow, and you're like, 'oh, this is a moment for me'.

TR: Favorite type of shoe to wear?

EL: Flat. My initial instinct is flat, but really comfortable. Comfort boots probably, that you can just slide on.

TR: Go-to dress up look?

EL: High waisted pants and some black pretty shirt and boots.

EL: Favorite holiday tradition?

EL: I make cookies with my grandmother. We make sugar cookies with decorative icing. It's actually really hard, because we make hundreds of cookies.

TR: Now we're onto some fan questions. From @kpaoletti19: “What's something you're proud of, that's happened this past year?”

EL:Those questions are so hard for me. Someone recently asked me what I was proud of and I didn't have an answer, but I realized they were asking me specifically about work, and it's because I can be my worst critic. But I will say, what I'm realizing is there are moments in every job where I have real moments of truth; where lightning strikes. I'm always proudest of those, because I think ‘you were there, and you were available to be worked through’.

TR: Also from @kpaoletti19, “Do you have advice when it comes to relationships? “

EL: I would say the best thing you can do is be super true to yourself and advocate for yourself really early on, so they know what they're working with. As opposed to, you know, when we first start dating someone, we want to be really pleasing and the perfect girlfriend. We just want to be easy. Maybe you are easy, but you're not always going to be easy.

TR: Be who you are.

EL: Have your opinions, have your likes, have your dislikes, and have them without shame.

TR: @elizabethlailfans asks: “Which of the characters that you've played, do you think most closely relates to you, and why?” I mean you've played some pretty intense characters. Maybe the answer is, none of them? Are there any who have a personality trait that you feel is like one of your own?

EL: They're all pretty different from me. I want to say Beck from You is the closest, but she's not really. Her choices are not really my choices. The things we have in common are age, that we’re artists, New York--- the really basic things. But when my mom was watching it, she was like, this isn't the woman I raised. She was like, ‘get some self esteem!’

TR: Another one, “What's your favorite memory from any set you've worked on?”

EL: Oh, I have so many. It's always the people. I create such joyful moments with all these incredible people and then they become your close friends. So I don't know if I can name a single one. There was a moment on Countdown where we came onto the set, this is kind of funny and gross, and it smelled like fish and we were like, what is going on here? Why does it smell like fish? Someone had used a set toilet, a fake toilet.

TR: That’s a really funny story. @elizabethlailfans also says “take care of yourself. We love you, and are proud of you always”.

EL: Aw right back at you, right back.

TR: @elizabethlailbr had a ton of great questions for you, including "Any new projects you can hint at?”

EL: Yeah, she's great. I don't know if I'm allowed to hint at them yet. But yes, don't worry, they're coming.

TR: One from me now: why did you change your Instagram handle?

EL: Everyone's upset! So my team was afraid that people weren't able to find me, because I had a random handle. [@elizaboon] And I will say, sometimes when someone contacts me on Instagram, they end up calling me Eliza, which is totally fine. That's like a nickname. They’d assume my name is Eliza, which was kind of fun. That's fine, I'm open. As long as it's not Beth, I'll respond to it.

TR: Do you have any nicknames?

EL: Some people call me Lizzy, Liz. Most people call me Lail, especially on a set; they go to sporting last name vibes. And then my best friend calls me Bell. It started out as Liz Bell and now it's just Bell. And then E Lib is the new one that's catching on.

TR: @elizabethlailbr asks: “How was it shooting with Story + Rain?”

EL: So fun.

TR: Fun and cold.

EL: Very cold, but it's much colder today, so I'm grateful for the day we had. It was cold but it was sunny.

TR: "Can you recommend theater to see or books on acting?” Also from @elizabethlailbr.

EL: Yes. Books on acting. I would read Uta Hagen's Respect for Acting. I would read Larry Moss, The Intent to Live, those are two incredible ones. They’re kind of old school and new school. Theater to see: I would see Jagged Little Pill on Broadway if you can. And then The Sound Inside, with Mary Louise Parker and Will Hochman. That's a wonderful play. And Sing Street, at New York Theater Workshop. I haven't seen it yet, but I really want to see it, and a friend of mine is in it. So that's on my list.

TR: One more: “Are you working with any new organizations within sustainability, or otherwise?”

EL: I’m working with the New York City Department of Sanitation. It’s cool because these are the real deal people. They want to make sure everyone knows how to get rid of waste, how to dispose of compost and garbage correctly, what is actually recyclable--- and all those sorts of things. And they're doing a Refashion week in February. They do upcycling fashion shows and have designers create sustainable looks.

TR: How do you feel about fashion in general?

EL: I am a fashion appreciator. I’m not necessarily that knowledgeable about the inside of the world of fashion, but every time I go to a fashion show I'm always blown away.

TR: Which shows have you seen?

EL: Self-Portrait. That one was so good. And then last year I got to go to Vogue CFDA. That was incredible. I just love being at the shows. I like the performance. It’s not surprising that, of course what I respond to is the performance of fashion.

TR: How do you feel about your costumes, how important are they?

EL: Very important.

TR: When you put on a costume as a character, even as Beck, in jeans and a sweater, or like Leah, do you transform instantly?

EL: 100% yeah. What your character decides to wear is, I think, very informative. So I think fashion in that sense is extremely important.

TR: Last question, still from @eilzabethlailbr: “What do you still feel like you need to accomplish in your career?” You have a huge career ahead of you, but is there something on your immediate list that you're thinking about these days?

EL: I've been thinking about these things because it's almost the new year, and it's time to write out a manifestation list.

TR: Do you put it in that big notebook, or is there a separate manifestation bible?

EL: I used to just rip it out of the notebook and put it away in my little box. And this year, I read that you should burn it. You should trust that your desires have been heard and are being met in the best way. So that's my plan this year. We'll see how it goes. There are a thousand things that I still want to do in my career, so I'm hoping this is just the beginning. I want to be an actor until I'm 89.

TR: How do you feel about film versus television? Things have changed so much in terms of TV.

EL: I really love both of them. I will say there's nothing like being in a movie theater; it changes the experience. It demands a little bit more of your attention, for better or for worse.

TR: There's ceremony attached to it, ritual.

EL: I like ritual, so I like that. But I love being a part of all of it: film, television, and theater. They're all worthwhile.

[mecharina]

Tales from Outer Nexus p.2 - The Dominion

A continuation from this post. As some peeps know, I love me some Dommies (so much I mained them) and it’s a bit sad that I wasn’t able to rp these alts as I did with my main three. Anyway, enjoy readin’ o/

Here’s p.1 w/ my Exiles

Aarium Kantivex - As a member of the Coalition of Galactic Scientists, Aarium was one of the first of its members to set foot on Nexus. Undoubtedly knowledgable of many areas of study, his focus and joy stem in ichthyology. It was no surprised then that he was stationed miles away from Malgrave’s southern coasts on a tiny little island he dubbed “The Watchtower,” to study the virtually untouched sea-life of Nexus’s seas. He’s happily married to a granok woman named Rhoda for the past three centuries. age: 868 h: 9′9″ (297cm) w: 555 lb (251kg)

Cecilia Sharp - Born to a noble family of lower stature that serves one of the higher houses, Cecilia’s life was pretty much laid out for her when she came into the world- groomed and educated for the specific purpose of marrying into another household or to serve dutifully into the Dominion Church. Because of that, she’s very shy and soft-spoken, and rarely does she speak her mind even in the company of friends and family. Cici very much wishes she could leave the life of nobility and strict dogmas, and that wish has grown stronger, especially since her family came to settle in Illium. age: 25 h: 5′3″ (160cm) w: 127lb (57kg)

Kaun Bloodgrip - A soldier on reserve, choice of weapon are stalker claws, adept in reconnaissance and assassination, presently works as a customs worker between Illium and Auroria’s borders. Kaun is your typical traditional draken in terms of his belief and values, though isn’t closed minded as people may first perceive. Considered cool-headed and stern, as he makes others believe him to be, keeps order (for the most part) in his work place, despite the constant pile of never ending paperwork. He is very close friends with Kalua Mons and Bongo Mcongo, who both work with him at customs. age: 26 h: 7′6″ (w/o horns) (228cm) w: 345lb (155kg)

Sabine Alpharion - Known far and wide for her exceptional acting prowess, none on either faction are unknown to her theatrical prowess, whether on stage or on the silver screen. Sabine, in person seems to be very reserved, her fronts practiced to a t in terms of reflecting unwanted inquiries. But really, she’s just a lonely soul living her immortal life day by day. The one thing that makes her life bearable are her plant children- she’s quite the fan of succulents. age: 653 h: 9′3″ (281cm) w: 455 lb (231kg)

Yajiro Ano - A patrol guard on Illium’s streets, Yajiro is a low-born cassian to a farmer’s family in Auroria. He’s the second oldest of seven siblings, thus some of his paycheck goes to help his family financially. He’s somewhat reserved, taking his day to day job with dutiful awareness, though does take the occasional nap standing at his post, since no one can see his face because of his helmet. He’s friends with Kalua, as she often walks by his post every morning and treats him with a light home made snack to keep his energy throughout the day. He’s very fond of peaches. age: 28 h: 5′8″ (176cm) w: 157lb (71kg)

Bongo Mcongo - A chill chua that likes to spend his days watching movies and discussing them, eating veggie chips, and relaxing in bed. After a failed apprenticeship under Mondo that nearly cost him his life- Bongo opted for a  less threatening occupation: sorting out documents, writing out mail orders, and conversing with friends at Illium’s border customs. The real threat he faces nowadays are papercuts. He’s good friends with Kaun Bloodgrip and Kalua Mons and often is the one planning out trips for all three of them to hang. His favorite flavor of popsicle is sea-salt. age: 23 h: 3′5″ (104cm) w: 70lb (31kg)

[yourclonazepamgeneric-blog]

You Are Going to Do Bad Things to Children

I watch her. I watch her. Advise my sibling and sister to watch out of the other vehicle window. I think they are playing some game. I believe that they think this is a game. They're too youthful to even consider understanding. My mom is on a crucial. She is searching for my dad. She thinks he is having an unsanctioned romance. She faces him in the parking area. He says nothing. It isn't as though he doesn't have a clue where to look yet I realize that it isn't valid. Not father. Not my dad. She is shouting at Clonazepam Generic him now. I don't realize whether individuals are looking presently, taking a gander at both of them, at this scene being happened before their eyes or turning away. I pulverize my youth journal when we get at home. I am a youngster. I am injured now forever. I don't have a clue what to do. So this is my main event. I remove page by page. I fix passages. You don't see the amount I cherished this book, this diary however I don't see yet how to communicate my sentiments, my creative mind. My dad gave me this book. Consistently he has given me a journal in January. 'This is yours. This is your diary.' And I grin up at him, and with this book in my grasp I can compose anything I need. Who do I accept? I am my dad's girl. I appear as though him. I don't look anything like her, my mom. I realize she despises me. Maybe they will isolate. Maybe they will get a separation. They commute home in isolated vehicles. I am numb, struck stupid. I don't utter a word. My mom is driving excessively quick. It is not normal for her. Her dress is over her knees. Is this what love is? Human instinct is human instinct. 'Daddy,' I state later. 'I don't believe she's your perfect partner. I don't believe you're intended for one another.' But he says nothing, he just winks.

 Sex, that exchange, lovemaking for me was constantly messy. I needed to stay a virgin everlastingly, unadulterated. I needed to be a sister. I realized I must be rebuffed since the beginning, make penances, consistently sport dark, and bow when I needed to supplicate however I was not Catholic. Be that as it may, my mom set that thought on the right track out of my head. She revealed to me that there were no nuns any longer and afterward I needed to be a cleric however everyone knows how degenerate church pioneers are. I realized that I felt harmed, deprived, and forlorn even as a youngster so I discovered solace in books. In any event, when I became more established and watched films where young ladies would evacuate their pieces of clothing viewed by a stirred more seasoned man I would feel nothing. Literally nothing. Possibly it originated from adolescence. The climax in both the male and the female disturbed me possibly it originated from the way that I despised my mom who I thought had been so off-base, so inconsistent with my dad (whatever had they spoken about when he charmed her I surely don't have a clue. He was refined and taught, he had a degree and she could type thirty-five words per moment and she had a confirmation) yet I cherished my dad and venerated him. What's more, for my entire life I have needed an ideal love and not a physical love. For my entire life I have needed to be shielded from the entirety of life's tempests, other ladies, more youthful ladies, young ladies, I needed to be given a haven to compose and as a grown-up I would watch the glinting pictures of erotic entertainment quietly shouting with chuckling inside. So this is the thing that people would do to consider kids, their brilliant holy messengers, and beneficiaries to positions of authority of fixation, substance misuse and abusive behavior at home. There would be practically zero exchange. I would get either madly envious of their idiotic voices despite the fact that I knew each seemingly insignificant detail from the props to the bed was phony. For what reason would I be able? What was so amiss with me? After all they were just on-screen characters acting, doing what they were advised to do, presented, coordinated, and anticipating. I was exhausted with everything and pondered where my head was at. Of affection and sex I knew literally nothing by any stretch of the imagination. It exhausted me however not the romantic tale, not the misfortune, the reject or dismissal, the darling male or female leaving. Little skank, little prostitute, those weren't words that exhausted me, that annoyed me. What's more, as I grew up the young lady in me kicked the bucket when my mom mentioned to me what occurs right now, is said right now in the house. I grew up rapidly. Misuse will do that to you. Maltreatment on account of your mom, aunties (her sisters, her sister-in-law) the Johannesburg individuals, menaces on the play area, pompous male educators, and your first sweetheart when you are away from home, ten years more seasoned than you. Did he drive me to do things I would not like to do? It hurt. They state it generally does the first run through round. I kept in touch with him letters however I was not in affection with him. The picture I had of my folks watching two exposed young ladies swimming, kissing with tongue, feeling each astonishingly out of the water, contacting one another, finishing each other here and there, stroking their arms, their bodies. They sunbathed naked. It was the first occasion when I had seen bosoms, the curve of a lady's figure and full frontal nakedness. What's more, something within me, a little voice said that my future life as a girl who adored both her mom and father and a future life as spouse, darling and mother had not exclusively been disrupted at the end of the day decimated until the end of time. I was only a kid who ought to have been sleeping in bed dreaming. Endeavored suicide is finished with the two eyes shut. This isn't my time. No passage of white light. Sylvia Plath and Anne Sexton. The confession booth writers. Sylvia, Abigail the invigorated crazies. Take a gander at me. The South African repulsiveness story. A scene made of bars at the window, specialists, and therapists.

 The mental meltdown, bipolar, dysfunctional behavior, insane, crazy, lunacy isn't composed on the body except if you tattoo it on your arm with an extremely sharp edge or cutting. You can be the ideal kid yet can your mom splendidly love you in an imperfect world, in her defective world. She didn't need me with my easy merits, my stage plays and practices, my accounts, God help us, she particularly would not like to peruse my accounts. 'Leave it alongside my bed.' She said. 'I'll peruse it before I nod off.' And I did yet she had progressively significant work to do. Shower, dress, make morning meals, and go to work. 'Gracious, I'll read it later.' She said at whatever point I stood up to her about it. She was doing even considerably more significant work at that point. Watching her drama with her stockinged feet up on the couch seat, her impact points by it with her eyes half-shut, marvelous, Hitler however without the mustache and the mass of oppression. 'Kiss me.' She requested from my asthmatic sibling wearing his cowhand cap pulling his wagon around the family room. Also, I made unlimited cups of tea. Also, as I made each cup my heart would load up with trust that she would state, 'My shrewd young lady. You're growing up so quick.' But obviously she never did. We were foragers. We ate what we could discover in the kitchen and if daddy wasn't meditative he would go out and get us something to eat for dinner. My dad would cry a great deal and I would put my arm around his shoulder, scarcely arrive at it however and ask him, 'Would you like to discuss it?' yet that simply made him cry more diligently and it was much increasingly hard to make him stop. I was constantly close to the highest point of my group however there were issues, harms. They were continually battling.

 'Great night mummy. Rest tight. Sweet dreams. I love you.' No answer consequently and it skips off dividers. I am turning thirty-five verging on thirty-six. It will be my birthday in two months. Valium close by (in every case close), Letters to a Young Poet by Rainer Maria Rilke beside my bed, Poems by Sylvia Plath Chosen via Carol Ann Duffy, Poet Laureate. Untainted in a grown-up world. The main world where I have a place is media, that and the nearby Olympic-sized pool. Stopped up in a confined youth proceeded, sentences butchered by chuckling, hacking, a closeted assortment of books (course books, verse and short story compilations, a string of J.M. Coetzee's books line a rack, The Childhood of Jesus the most recent), obscurity, traffic fills within me that was consistently the trade. I can just nod off with a bunch of resting pills. I take long snoozes toward the evening and wake up in close murkiness. Pills. Pills. Pills. Pax. Epilizine. Eltroxin. Melatonin. Clonazepam Generic. Ativan. I have no tendency to go to Paris. Rilke abhorred it there however then again Hemingway appeared to have taken to it like water away from a duck. In any case I experience the ill effects of vertigo. For the most part individuals go to Paris since it is sentimental. Isn't the Eiffel tower sentimental? You won't get me up there. I am a masochist and become restless as damnation when I am acquainted with novel individuals and spots. It alarms me. What a snicker? Did she applaud? Is it true that she was applauding? Is it accurate to say that she is glad for the way that I am a storyteller and an artist, not a government official, not a legislator's significant other or anyone's better half so far as that is concerned and not the writer or narrative movie producer I needed to be in secondary school? At the point when she sat down in the auditorium was she pleased, was she radiating from ear to ear like the Cheshire feline. Gloom is exhausting. Be that as it may, I'm utilized to it now. Like clockwork I'm transported off for a week or so to a clinic to recuperate from psychosis, mind flights. What an outing for my conscience? I can't rest. I can't eat. My sister never drops by. She doesn't live here right now, this hellhole any longer. She lives in Johannesburg. My magnificence days are finished. I'm apprehensive they've gone dead simply like all the men throughout my life. The main thing that is waited is my continuous flow composing, my journaling and my easy chair voyaging and the individuals that I love the most on the planet kicking the bucket on me when I wouldn't dare hoping anymore disregarding me to now hit the dance floor with the bold, swim with the fishes, eat dangerous sardines on toast that have an aftertaste like salt and light. The rooms are vaporous in the house. I need to make sure to take in when I return home from the emergency clinic. There's not a lot of they can accomplish for me there but rather hang tight for the fantasies, the psychosis to pass however the a sleeping disorder remains with me, winter's unresolved issue me home. I'm a claustrophobe in the word related room. They leave m

[paladin-andric]

Character Bio: Lexius, Priest of the Order

Lexius stood silently, staring the soldiers down as they turned the monastery inside out. Relics overturned, incense on the floor, cloth torn and tossed about...the entire scene shook the priest. How could they do this?

This was the house of God.

This lovely, radiant temple dedicated to the Lord was nearly being desecrated. It looked as though a raiding party had swept through the place! Every room, every floor...all was in tatters.

And all because of their paranoia! Their disbelief that only humans resided in this monastery. They just HAD to search every nook and cranny in the hopes of finding a non-human stowaway.

...well, to be fair, they WERE correct. The servant was well concealed, however. Lexius could only watch in silence and hope they didn’t find the-

The priest felt his heart sink as a soldier pulled a rug away, revealing a trapdoor. The man smirked at the priest.

“Gotcha.”

Lexius quickly recovered, maintaining his emotionless mask of a face as he replied. “Just a storage room. Hasn’t been used in years.”

“Hah, we’ll see about that.”

While outwardly he was the essence of stoicism, inside the priest was in a panic. They were going to find him! Oh Lord, the little thing would give himself away, squealing in terror when he heard the soldiers...

Lexius slowly followed the soldier, climbing down the ladder even has he heard the other priests shouting at the rest of the soldiers. They were most enraged at the treatment the levies were giving this place. Of course Lexius was as well, but he had to maintain his calm facade...for HIS sake.

Lexius stood by the ladder, arms folded in front of him as he coolly eyed the soldier. The basement was small, musty, dark, and full of dust. It was quite true that no one ever used this room; the attic was far more appealing with its many candles, stairwell and larger size. This room was filled with old shelves, sacks and crates no one ever found any need to come and use.

The soldier quickly began opening boxes and knocking bags over, scouring the room for hiding spots. He went through the area feverishly, quickly going from one place to the next.

Lexius could feel his heart pounding in his chest. If he found the stowaway, no doubt the priests would be in just as much trouble as the servant.

Lexius gritted his teeth. It felt like hours had passed! How much longer would he be at it?!

The priest’s eyes widened as the soldier found a barrel in the corner of the room, having tossed all the junk in front of it aside.

“End of the line...” Lexius thought to himself.

The man opened the barrel, looking inside of the container...and then tossed the lid aside and turned around, eyes gazing back and forth.

“Satisfied?” Lexius asked, hands on his hips. The soldier walked up to the priest and leaned in close, staring into the priest’s eyes, face scrunched up in thought.

This strange standoff was driving Lexius mad with worry, but still he held his deadpan gaze.

“...hmph.” The soldier turned and climbed back up the ladder.

Lexius broke his cover for the first time since the soldiers had arrived, widening his eyes and wiping his forehead. How terribly close that was!

He followed the man back up to the main floor, putting his “mask” back on as he climbed out of the basement.

“All clear here, lads!” The soldier shouted, “We done?”

“Yeah, move out!” Another soldier replied, “We’ve still got more places to hit!”

Lexius crossed his arms as the men marched out of the monastery, other priests walking up to the door to watch.

As the soldiers got back on their horses and raced away, the priests approached Lexius.

“Lexius!” A woman cried, “Is he...?”

The priest smiled for the first time today. “Still tucked away safely.”

“Oh, thank the Lord.” One of the men muttered.

The group descended back into the basement. Lexius quickly grabbed the barrel the soldier had searched and pulled it away from the wall.

The priest was met with a terrified meep from the crevice under the wall.

“Whoops, probably should have made myself known...” Lexius thought, grimacing.

“Hey, it’s all right, Rascal. It’s me.” The priest smiled and crouched down, looking into the crevice.

A terrified looking kobold gazed back up at Lexius, eyes lighting up as he recognized the man. The little creature quickly scuttled out of his hiding spot, latching onto the priest’s robes.

“Haha, it’s alright, Rascal. They’re gone. They don’t know about you.”

“Can’t believe they got that close, though...” One of the priests chimed in.

The kobold made a distressed trilling noise, pulling the priest’s robes tighter.

“Hey, hey, don’t worry,” Lexius cooed, “Everything is okay! You’re safe now.” He patted the small servant on the back, eliciting a smile from the creature.

“Now than!” The priest said, standing up, “We’ve got some work to do. I know you usually just tidy up, but those men left this place a pigsty. You’re going to be busy today, as we all are!”

The kobold nodded and started walking, continuing to clutch onto Lexius’ robes as he and the other priests began walking away, ready to repair the devastated monastery.

Lexius’ life started off quite differently than how he lives today. The man was originally the son of a wealthy merchant, his father used his great wealth to marry into a poor noble house, effectively raising him from a lowborn commoner into low nobility. Lexius was raised with all the comforts a well-off son of a noble could expect. He was well educated, well trained, and lived rather comfortably.

All this changed once Lexius began reading the Holy Texts. He quickly became fascinated with God and the tales of the holy men of old at a young age. He read every last page of the Texts from front to back. Proverbs, the story of creation, the first faithful on Earth, the commandments and tales of heaven...it was all so terribly fascinating.

After convincing his father, Lexius shifted his studies towards theology, becoming more and more familiar with the scriptures and their meanings. He attended church regularly, and enrolled in many discussion groups and volunteer missions.

When he became an adult, Lexius decided he wanted to officially join the Order as an ordained priest. After a few classes and tests, the Order welcomed him as Brother Lexius. He was assigned to work at the Godwin Monastery, deep in the wild forests of Southern Geralthin.

Lexius excelled in holy arts. Blessing, healing, sanctifying and calling forth God’s power...he was quite skilled, though he rarely found use for these abilities in the monastery. It was very quiet and peaceful, with not much to occupy his time with.

While staying in the monastery and getting accustomed to life as a priest, some rustling in the attic woke some of the priests up one night. Fearing the worst, the group discussed what should be done. Lexius volunteered to go up into the attic, armed with nothing but a candlestick.

Shaking in fear, the priest quietly stalked the attic, flashes of lightning illuminating the pitch black room.

It was during one of these flashes of lightning that he was met with the face of a kobold, rifling through one of the sacks of supplies they kept in the attic.

It gazed up at him, its fear mirroring the priest’s own. For a moment, time seemed to freeze at they stared at each other.

Both of them screamed in terror, the kobold tripping and falling over while Lexius stumbled backwards and clutched onto the candlestick with all his might.

After regaining his senses, Lexius moved forward, ready to attack the monster that was desecrating the Lord’s house.

The beast, however, simply cowered in fear, holding his hands over his head and whimpering.

While he could very well have fought the creature, Lexius didn’t exactly feel comfortable with beating a helpless, cowering person to death with a candlestick.

After some time talking with the rest of the priests while the creature hid in one of the sacks, Lexius attempted to talk with the kobold. It didn’t appear to be able to speak, although it DID seem to be able to understand them. Strange, it knew the tongue of man, yet couldn’t speak it...

After some time hanging around the monastery, the kobold started visiting it frequently, hiding out in the attic during rain and approaching Lexius while he went about his duties. The little thing seemed to have formed some attachment to the priest.

Eventually, he stopped leaving altogether, slowly becoming more and more comfortable around the priests, as they stopped becoming alarmed when he made himself known around them. He began to watch the priests tend to the monastery, mimicking them. He started sweeping the floors, dusting the artifacts, and moving supplies to and from where they needed to go.

The priests dubbed the kobold “Rascal”, and let him do whatever chores he decided on doing each day. It was less work for them, at least.

Through all of this, he never spoke, even in his native tongue. Lexius had the creeping suspicion that he was mute, either physically or through choice.

Carrying along like this, Lexius became quite close with the tiny, easily frightened beast. He sat down with Rascal during supper, read the Holy Scriptures to him, and simply vented from time to time, the kobold always answering with a silent stare and a nod.

When the Exile happened, the monastery was lucky enough to be warned ahead of time. They hid Rascal away when the soldiers came, luckily managing to keep him concealed while the soldiers turned the place inside out. This close call was celebrated, and all were quite happy.

A couple of years later, the news of Palethorn came. Fog blanketed the city in darkness, rumors of demons roaming the city floated around. Whispers of the end times were heard...

Lexius made a choice. He couldn’t let this happen. By God’s will, the demonic darkness must be destroyed. Even though he had never fought a battle in his life, he couldn’t just sit around and hope the demonic fog went away. It wasn’t the right thing to do.

In the dead of night, Lexius slipped away from the monastery. Even the kobold was asleep, snoring loudly under Lexius’ bed. He left a note on his bedside, apologizing for leaving his brothers and sisters like this, but noting that this had to be done.

He took the small savings from his father with him, ordering a shortsword, wooden shield, and a suit of chainmail from a smithy in town.

Quivering with fear, Lexius took a deep breath and stepped into the darkness.

After reaching Palethorn, the devastation and emptiness of the city fueled his resolve. His cause was most righteous! After some time wandering, he came across some survivors who ushered him to the Citadel, the last bastion of life in the city.

With a small group of determined adventurers at his side, and zeal in his heart, Lexius seeks to destroy God’s most vile enemies once and for all.

Although, he isn’t thrilled about it. He has no experience in battle, and is clearly outmatched. And although he isn’t afraid to die, he DOES want to make it through this in one piece...

...after all, what would Rascal do without him?

Tag list: @thereisnothingwrongwithbeingmad, @candy-m-s, @lady-redshield-writes, @paper-shield-and-wooden-sword, @sheralynnramsey, @the-true-shadowmaster, @tawnywrites, @writer-on-time, @oceanwriter, @zwergis-spilledink

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[the-christian-walk]

REFOCUSING ON GOD

Can I pray for you in any way?

Send any prayer requests to Gods4all@aol.com In Christ, Mark

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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The scriptures. May God bless the reading of His holy word.

After much discussion, Peter got up and addressed them:

“Brothers, you know that some time ago God made a choice among you that the Gentiles might hear from my lips the message of the gospel and believe. God, who knows the heart, showed that He accepted them by giving the Holy Spirit to them, just as He did to us. He did not discriminate between us and them, for He purified their hearts by faith.”

“Now then, why do you try to test God by putting on the necks of Gentiles a yoke that neither we nor our ancestors have been able to bear? No! We believe it is through the grace of our Lord Jesus that we are saved, just as they are.”

Acts 15:7-11

This ends today’s reading from God's holy word. Thanks be to God.

“…it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God—not by works, so that no one can boast.” Ephesians 2:8-9

These words were written by the Apostle Paul to the church in Ephesus as a reminder that salvation is not earned by accomplishing tasks. There isn’t some checklist that prospective believers need to complete before they could be saved. No, salvation is a gift from God. He is the divine Giver of every good and perfect gift from above (James 1:17).

Note here that Paul is placing the focus on God and God alone. He is to be the One who gets the glory when it comes to the matter of being saved from sin. After all, didn’t Jesus say this?

“For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.” John 3:16

Salvation started with God, just like everything else in creation. He loved the world, not just some of it but all of it, that He offered up His Son Jesus so that anyone who believed in Him would not perish but live forever.

God did that. He is central to all things and He is in total control of all things.

God does what He wants, when He wants. No man dictates the way things should be.

This was obviously a concept that was lost by some of the Pharisees for in yesterday’s message, we saw where they demanded that all new Gentile Christians “be circumcised and required to keep the law of Moses” (Acts 15:5). These Pharisees were still living in the past and unwilling to consider that God had decided to enact a new covenant with His people, a new covenant that only required a prospective Christian, Jew or Gentile, to believe in Jesus as Savior to gain everlasting life. As we move on in our study of Acts 15, we find Paul surgically attack the flaw in the Pharisaical argument and he did so by refocusing the Jewish believers on their God. His rebuttal after much discussion contained these main points:

1. God made the choice to extend salvation to the Gentiles.

Paul was just an apostle who was carrying on the work of Jesus to make new disciples and that work didn’t discriminate between Jews and non-Jews. God had deemed that Gentiles might hear the Gospel, believe and be saved, and that’s exactly what was taking place. Things happened just like God said they would.

2. God accepted the Gentiles as much He did the Jews.

God chose to save the Gentiles along with the Jews and with that came immediate acceptance. He was the God of all, no matter a person’s national origin. It was true in New Testament times and it has been true ever since.

3. God imparted the Holy Spirit on the Gentiles.

Up to now in Acts, we have seen this happen on more than one occasion. You may recall how Peter was in Joppa when a Roman centurion named Cornelius had a vision from God, commanding him to send for Peter. At the same time, Peter was experiencing a vision of his own while on Simon’s rooftop in Joppa which provided him guidance from God on what was clean and unclean. You’ll remember that it was centered on eating certain animals but the point made in the vision was much broader than that. Peter was told that only God had the right to deem something unclean and He had decided to grant salvation to the Gentiles. Ultimately, God had the authority and right to do what He wanted to do and Peter realized that he had to adjust his thinking to align with God’s changing salvation policy. And so, he went to Caesarea and shared the Gospel with Cornelius as well as his family and friends. The household believed and received the Holy Spirit (Acts 10).

This was what Paul was getting at. God had shown already that the Gentiles could receive the Holy Spirit from Him just like everyone else. No one group had special privilege with God over another in this regard.

4. God purified the hearts of the Gentiles by faith.

To purify something was to make it holy. The Jews had treated all Gentiles (essentially anyone not a Jew) as being anything but holy. Gentiles weren’t even allowed into the temple courts in Jerusalem. An area of prayer was set up outside the temple for anyone that wasn’t a Jew and the message sent was clear. The Jews wanted the Gentiles to know they were outsiders when it came to relations with God. They would always be in line after the Jews, that was the attitude, so Paul sought to attack that assertion in his address.

Like a skilled lawyer, Paul had built up main points to set up his closing words to the Pharisees, and as our passage concludes, we see him finish off the argument. Look again at those words here:

“Now then, why do you try to test God by putting on the necks of Gentiles a yoke that neither we nor our ancestors have been able to bear? No! We believe it is through the grace of our Lord Jesus that we are saved, just as they are.”

Here, we see Paul go right back to refocusing everyone on God. His question should have cut to the heart of the Pharisees raising objection. For we see Paul asking a simple question:

“Why do you put God to the test?”

Indeed, why? Who has the right to do that to an almighty, sovereign God?

Certainly, no one, not even Jews who were at one time God’s specifically chosen people.

In the end translation, the Pharisees had no place imposing their own beliefs on what should happen with the Gentiles. Their only concern should have been making sure that God’s will was done, no matter what that will was, no matter if they agreed with it or not. If God said it was to be, then it was to be. End of discussion.

Friends, today we need to avoid repeating the mistakes of the past. We can’t allow ourselves to be modern day Pharisees, misguiding people by sharing how we think they should live in lieu of focusing our attention on God and what He desires. In other words, none of us has the right to trump God when it comes to what He deems should happen. His will and way is to always reign supreme.

How would the Pharisees respond to Paul’s words?

As we’re going to see in tomorrow’s message, Paul, along with Barnabas, still had much to say. I hope you’ll join me to see what they had to say.

Amen.

In Christ,

Mark

PS: Feel free to leave a comment and please share this with anyone you feel might be blessed by it. Send any prayer requests to Gods4all@aol.com

[180abroad]

Day 45: Provence (Wine, Hill Towns, and Roman Ruins)

Today we went on our “All Provence in a Day” day tour, which we had managed to reschedule yesterday. Provence is filled with historic sights and quaint towns spread all over, so the only way to see it is by either renting a car yourself or booking a spot on a day tour. Given our recent luck with trying to rent, I’m glad we'd decided on the tour.

It was definitely a whistle-stop tour, but it was really cool getting to at least see so many famous sites in a single day. And in this case, I think we all preferred getting to see a bit of everything than spending longer in just a few. The next time we come to Avignon, hopefully we’ll have time to linger a bit longer at our favorites.

Our first stop was the ancient city of Orange. Originally a Celtic settlement, the city was taken by Romans in 35 BC and transformed into a regional capital. Provence was a popular home for Roman military veterans, and some of the best-preserved Roman constructs outside of Rome are found here. The two main Roman sights in Orange are the Arc de Triomphe and amphitheater.

The arch was built to span the grand Roman highway at the north entrance of town. (At the time, straight paved roads were as unmistakeably Roman as arches.) The faces of the arch are covered in carvings showing various Roman military victories in the area. Everyone who entered the city would be inescapably reminded of the Empire’s military and technological dominance.

You can also see traces from when the arch was merged with the city’s medieval walls. After some debate, Victorian-era archeologists decided to sacrifice the walls in favor of restoring the arch to its original design.

After the arch, we visited the amphitheater.

While the theater’s original roof and outbuildings have been lost over the millennia, the essential structure is remarkably well-preserved. According to the audioguide, the rear wall of the stage in its heyday would have been decorated with dozens of columns and statues, all of which would have been brightly painted.

In the center of the wall is a niche with a statue of a Roman emperor. Instead of replacing the entire statue every time there was a new emperor, the statue’s head would be popped off and replaced with one of the new emperor.

Leaving Orange, we next headed to one of the most famous winemaking regions in the world: Chateauneuf-du-Pape. During the 14th century, a series of popes ruled the Catholic church from Avignon instead of Rome, which they considered too dangerous at the time. A country retreat was built for the popes in a nearby village that became known as Chateauneuf-du-Pape (”the pope’s new castle”). The popes didn’t use the castle much, but they certainly made use of the vineyards. Since then, the region has been known for its highly desireable-and highly priced-wines.

We visited the Ogier winery, where an employee showed us around the cellar (where her spike heels almost fell through a drain grate), then gave us a tasting alongside a demonstration of the region’s distinctive soil types.

The tasting was light on guidance or discussion of the wines themselves, but they tasted good enough. We chalked it up as just a bonus--we had a full wine-tasting tour scheduled for tomorrow, and today’s visit hadn’t even been part of the original itinerary. But I think we were all secretly hoping for a better experience on our actual wine-tasting tour. (Spoiler alert: we totally did.)

After the wine tasting, we headed back to Avignon for a quick lunch break and change of touring companions. We had been sharing the tour with one couple that had booked a morning tour, and we would be spending the afternoon with a different couple that had booked the other half-day tour.

As we pulled into town, we passed by the broken bridge of Avignon, a local landmark and subject of a famous French nursery rhyme. When I first saw it, I wasn’t sure why it was so famous. But our guide explained: when it was built, the bridge didn’t just cross the short river visible from the road. The land on the other side is actually one of several large islands breaking up the Rhone river near Avignon. When it was built the Avignon bridge spanned over half a mile across the entire width of the Rhone, connecting the city to a nearby castle. The bridge was destroyed and rebuilt multiple times--sometimes by war, sometimes by flooding--and eventually the powers that be gave up on repairing it.

Once we were back in Avignon, a nice, relaxing lunch proved to be a casualty of our speedy tour schedule. We were given twenty minutes to hop out of the van and grab some takeout sandwiches before being picked up again.

Our afternoon started with a visit to another famous Roman sight: the Pont du Gard--a magnificent aqueduct spanning the Gardon river and the tallest aqueduct the Romans ever built.

A footbridge made to match the Pont’s appearance runs along the top of the first tier of arches. Walking on the bridge, we could really appreciate the immense scale and extraordinary quality of the Pont’s construction.

On the way back to our tour van, Jessica and Donna picked up some very mediocre coffee from the on-site cafe. Not recommended.

Our next sight was Les Baux, a striking hill town surrounded by stony ridges that could have come straight from the Sierra Nevadas.

We didn’t get nearly enough time in the town--we didn’t even get to really see the ruined castle on top--but we were able to stroll through a lot of the lower town and pop into several shops. We all bought some very nice scented Provencal soaps from one shop.

After leaving Les Baux, we drove briefly through the town of St. Remy, where Van Gogh spent a year in a psychiatric ward and painted Starry Night.

Our next whistle-stop was on a ridge overlooking the picturesque hill town of Gordes. It is a stunningly beautiful town, but we don’t have much to say about it. According to our guide, the town suffered severe population loss during the Industrial Revolution--when the bulk of jobs moved from the fields into the cities. But after World War II, it was rediscovered by French society, becoming an artist enclave and then a tourist destination.

We only got to see Gordes, not explore it. But we did get to explore our last destination--Roussillon.

Called the Grand Canyon of France, Roussillon stands on a mountain of bright red and orange ochre. It is the largest such ochre deposit in all of Europe. I had mainly associated ochre with painting, but textiles were actually the biggest consumer of ochre pigments by far. Roussillon was a major mining town from the late 1700s (when the Industrial Revolution began to consolidate and boost the textile industry) to the early 1900s (when conservationism and the use of artificial pigments were both on the rise.)

Ochre clay is also used in building--including virtually all of the homes in Roussillon itself. Apparently, it provides excellent insulation and weather resistance.

While wandering the town for an hour or so, I was able to pick up some small bottles of local red ochre pigment for some artist friends of mine.

Finally, after a very long day of riding around the countryside, we headed back home to Avignon, where we walked by the Palace of the Popes and picked up some food for dinner at the Carrefour supermarket on the way to our flat.

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