#ontario phone numbers

[qppmips]

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Read more: https://qppmips.com/medical-billing-services-benefit-small-practices/

Phone number: (888) 902-1035

Address: Ontario, California, Ontario, CA 91761, USA

website:https://qppmips.com/

[floodkiss]

Say "NO" to Genocide - Call, email, mail your reps (Canada)

Me and my friend spent some time today writing letters to the House of Commons, plus we have been calling MPs daily. I haven't seen too many resources for this floating around on tumblr, so here's a lengthy guide on how to do this plus some sample scripts! Long post ahead since I think it will be most helpful to dump everything in one spot to reference. On desktop, use CTR F/CMD F to search for the topic -> Phone / Email / Letter Mail / Contacts / Demands / Scripts / Fax

Update 1 - Nov 23: Updated emails with "mailto" hyperlinks, edited demands, added fax section, added scotiabank pres fax number.

On the PHONE / General Tips

Introduce yourself and identify yourself as a constituent by providing your postal code or address.

Ask to speak to the MP directly, but do not be surprised if you must speak to the MP’s staff instead. Staff can help move your issue forward.

Give the reason for your call and explain your concern.

Focus on one or two main concerns per phone call. Do not unload on the MP or their staff with all of your political concerns at one time.

Ask clear and pointed questions that require some explanation.

Ask for a commitment to action.

KEEP IN MIND Tips for Calling MPs:

Tell the MP that this issue will matter to you in the next election.

Avoid revealing party affiliation or sympathies. If you show that your vote is already cast for a certain party, the MP may not have the incentive to respond to your requests.

Be as brief as possible while outlining concerns.  Show that you respect their time.

Remain calm and respectful in dialogue. Be willing to work with them.

Follow up: Find out what actions were taken as a result of your call, and respond appropriately.

(Source: CPJ.ca)

CJPME Call Tool - Fill in the form, there will be suggested talking point. The tool will call your phone and then patch you through to your MP. If voicemail, state your concerns in 30 seconds. No address input will default you to call Foreign Affairs Minister Melanie Joly.

EMAIL

Be sure you sign your email with your name and mailing address so they know you are a part of their riding.

You will most likely receive a PR-type response or no response at all, but please still send these. It disrupts operations, and it still contributes to pressuring your MP to act on behalf of your riding.

LETTER MAIL

Mail may be sent postage-free to any member of Parliament at the House of Commons address. You just need to use an MP's full title if they are Cabinet members. Cabinet mebers have "The Honourable" attached to their names.

Postcards are efficient in that they are small pieces of card stock and can be a short message plus demands, no need to get use envelopes.

The Right Honourable Justin Trudeau House of Commons Ottawa, Ontario, Canada K1A 0A6

CONTACTS

Find your MP - ourcommons.ca - Contact the MP of your riding, any of the contacts below, as well as any cabinet members in your city or province.

Prime Minister (613) 992-4211 / justin.trudeau@parl.gc.ca *FAX: 613-941-6900 /*If faxes are closed at the House of Commons line, try their local offices! (See below under "FAX" for fax guide!)

Deputy Prime Minister - Chrystia Freeland (613) 992-5254 / chrystia.freeland@parl.gc.ca FAX: 416-928-2377

Minister of Foreign Affairs - Mélanie Joly (613) 992-0983 / melanie.joly@parl.gc.ca FAX: 613-992-1932

Minister of International Development - Ahmed Hussein (613) 995-0777 / ahmed.hussen@parl.gc.ca FAX: 613-995-0777

Minister of National Defence - Bill Blair (416) 261-8613 / bill.blair@parl.gc.ca FAX: 416-261-5286

Canada-Israel Interparliamentary Group (CAIL) Stéphane Bergeron (*he's not a chair or vice chair of this group, but i want to warn that stephane WILL argue with you, so call after hours if you are scared of confrontation 😭☠️) (450) 922-2562 / Stephane.Bergeron@parl.gc.ca Anthony House-father (Chair) (514) 283-0171 / anthony.housefather@parl.gc.ca Randall Garrison (VC) (250) 405-6550 / randall.garrison@parl.gc.ca Marty Morantz (VC) (204) 984-6432 / Marty.Morantz@parl.gc.ca The Honourable Ya’ara Saks (VC) (416) 638-3700 / yaara.saks@parl.gc.ca

Embassy of Israel (613)567-6450 / FAX: 613-750-7555

DEMANDS

Summarized from resistance groups such as H/mas, H/zbollah, PFLP (Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine), DFLP (Marxist Democratic Front got the Liberation of Palestine), CJPME (Canadians for justice and peace in the middle east), and other anti-war, anti-imperialist, IRL Palestinians.

Canada needs to...

Call an immediate PERMANENT ceasefire to end bloodshed

Send humanitarian aid to Gaza.

Institute embargo on all military exports to Israel

Close the embassies, and sanction Israel diplomatically and economically.

SCRIPTS

Use these as scripts for calling, emailing, and mailing. I suggest adding some of your own sentences and changing the subject lines (for email) so they don't end up in spam.

Example from Canada: Stop Arming Israel - World BEYOND War 

As we mourn the thousands of people in Israel and Palestine who have been killed in the past few weeks we refuse to stand by and allow the only true winners in war — the weapons manufacturers — to continue to arm and profit off of it.

Canada exported over $21 million in military goods to Israel in 2022, including over $3 million in bombs, torpedoes, missiles, and other explosives. - 2022 Exports of Military Goods 

Weapons companies across Canada are making a fortune off of the carnage in Gaza and the occupation of Palestine.

This is a call to action. It's time to stop letting these weapons companies profit off of the massacre of thousands of Palestinians. Find a location near you, get friends and allies together, and interrupt their business as usual to demand they stop selling arms and military technology to Israel.

Send an urgent message to demand Canada stop arming Israel and push for an immediate ceasefire to your Member of Parliament, the Prime Minister, and the Ministers of Foreign Affairs, International Trade, and Defense.

Dear [recipient's full name goes here], We are witnessing genocidal violence playing out in Gaza right now. Thousands of Palestinians have been killed, nearly half of them children. With a blockade on water, electricity, fuel and food, a quarter of all buildings razed to the ground, and over a million people displaced, UN experts have denounced Israel's actions as crimes against humanity. Meanwhile, weapons companies across Canada are arming -- and making a fortune off of -- the carnage in Gaza and the massacre of thousands of Palestinians by selling weapons and military technology to Israel. I am calling on you to do two things: to take immediate action to institute an arms embargo on Israel and to ensure Canada pushes for de-escalation and a ceasefire in Gaza. Sincerely,

Script Sample 2 from Palestinian Youth Movement

^This will open up a pre-written email in your chosen email app or site. Fill in the recipient line with the emails of MPs you wish to contact.

Script Sample 3 from CJPME's Email Campaign

^Complete the form to send an email to Prime Minister Trudeau, your local MP, and the leaders of the NDP, Convervatives and Greens. Canada must OPPOSE A SECOND NAKBA and dispossession of the Palestinians in Gaza by pushing for a ceasefire.

Script Sample 3 for mail:

(a mix of mine and a friend's)

I am writing to ask you to take immediate action to stop the genocide Israel is committing against Palestinians in Gaza as well as the onslaught of those in West Bank.

There is blockade on food, water, electricity, fuel, and the use of internationally banned white phosphorus to exterminate Palestinians. Aid is not able to enter Gaza because of this blockade. UN experts have named Israel’s actions as genocide citing numerous war crimes they continually commit.

While over 10k civilians have been martyr’d (4.2k of which are children), Canada has not even been able to NAME such crimes as genocide or call for an official ceasefire. This is not enough.

Canada needs to:

Call an immediate ceasefire to end bloodshed

Send humanitarian aid to Gaza.

Institute embargo on all military exports to Israel

Close the embassies, and sanction Israel diplomatically and economically.

FAX (NEW!)

Using faxzero.com is simple, just follow up the steps on the website. No fax machine required! Tell officials your demands and customize your letter by noting their complicity based on their role as a politician or gov official. Or keep it brief and simple, in large legible letters. 

Demands could include:

That you are a “Canadian” constituent That you are demanding an IMMEDIATE AND PERMANENT CEASEFIRE IN GAZA; That you demand a total withdrawal of financial (taxpayer) and commercial support and arms for continued occupation in Israel’s 70+ year occupation in Palestine; That it is shameful that [X] is choosing not to speak up for the deaths of more than 11,000 Palestinians, half of whom are children and thousands of others displaced; That Palestinians like all people, deserve life, dignity and justice; That Israel is breaking multiple international laws daily and Canada MUST meet its international commitment to promote and defend human rights under the Geneva Convention; That not putting these actions in place will harm constituents and undo acts of reconciliation with Indigenous peoples and other marginalized communities in Canada by not protecting the Indigenous peoples of Palestine; That unless there is concrete and everlasting action taken place, that there will be no peace until Palestine is free, and subsequently that you will not be voting for them (if applicable) in the next election.

Sign off with your name, address and postal code (if applicable, furthering that you are a resident on the stolen Indigenous lands otherwise known as “Canada”) Extended fax list: Scott thomson (president of scotiabank) - 416-866-5929 joe biden / whitehouse - 202-456-2461

(source: @/harlo.gif on IG)

[slafkovskys]

Can I do “I really need you right now” with Luca pls!

did i take inspo from need you now by lady a? maybe

warnings: sad luca, kinda angsty?

“ugh, why did the music stop?” kendra grunts, pausing her work on your face to rest her hands on top of your head. she looks out towards the kitchen and when she doesn’t get a response, she repeats her question louder, “why did the music stop?”

“because y/n is getting a phone call,” lila sings as she prances into your bedroom with your phone in her hand. you raise an eyebrow in question and she looks at the screen, “i don’t know. someone from ontario.”

it’s like your world stops spinning when she utters those words. you knew two people from ontario and one of those numbers was still saved in your phone though you hadn’t looked at it in months. you hold your hand out and she passes you the phone. your eyes scan over the number and you swallow the lump that had formed in your throat, “can you um, could you give me a second?”

they share an uncertain look before backing out of the room and you finally answer the phone, “hel-hello?”

“i didn’t think that you would answer,” he sounds both relieved and nervous at the same time.

“why are you calling me, luca?”

“it’s been almost a year,” he mumbles, his voice shaky. “i did good for almost a year, y/n, not thinking about you, but now i- i can’t do it anymore.”

“luc,” you sigh, “talk to me. what’s going on?”

“we lost.”

the way that he says it, you can practically hear the knife twisting further into his heart. you nod your head and once you remember that he couldn’t see you, you clear your throat, “i know. i’m sorry.”

“i really need you right now,” he says and you bite your lip, “i know that we said that we were done with us, but i need you more than ever. please.”

“where are you right now?”

“tampa. we fly back to michigan tomorrow night.”

you take a deep breath, tilting your head back as the words leave your mouth, “i’ll be there, okay? just send me an address of where i need to go and i’ll book the first flight that i can.”

you hear a sniffle on the other end and you were so glad that you couldn’t see him, “i- thank you, y/n. i love you.”

your stomach twists into a knot, “call me if you need me. okay? my phone’s on loud. i’ll hear it.”

a minute later you throw your phone to the ground when the call disconnects, dropping your head into your hands, cursing yourself for how easily you have into him. you hear footsteps and your eyes connect with kendra’s through the mirror and she looks worried, “what was that about?”

you shake your head, “i have to go to ann arbor.”

send in your request for spring fling!

[liminalweirdo]

So according to this article, the Premier of Ontario, Doug Ford wants to end the wastewater surveillance program.

Having no information on the spread or prevalence of COVID 19 significantly impacts disabled, immunocompromised, and COVID-vulnerable people, including the elderly, those who have undergone organ transplants, people with intellectual and/or neurological disabilities, asthma, heart conditions, and those with autoimmune conditions, as well as BIPOC, trans and queer people, the homeless population, as well as people who are struggling financially or are in public-facing jobs with high customer overturn such as food services and sales.

Please spread this message or contact the Premier of Ontario here or email him at Premier@ontario.ca

The phone number is 416-325-1941 and TTY is 1-800-387-5559

[natlacentral]

The Actress Who Waited a Lifetime to Become Katara

Kiawentiio talks joining the cast of Avatar: The Last Airbender and playing a character that means so much to so many

The 17-year-old actress Kiawentiio (pronounced gya-wuhn-dee-yo) can’t remember a time when Avatar: The Last Airbenderwasn’t part of her childhood in some way. Growing up on the Akwesasne Mohawk reservation in Ontario known as Kawehno:ke (or Cornwall Island), Kiawentiio—who was born in 2006, a full year after the beloved animated series debuted on Nickelodeon—recalls having older siblings who would have the cartoon regularly playing in the background of their house. Years later, when all three seasons began streaming on Netflix, she revisited the series and developed a newfound appreciation for its narrative ambition.

So, when Netflix first announced that it was developing a live-action adaptation of Avatar in 2018, Kiawentiio told her team to get her an audition for Katara, the 14-year-old girl who is trying to fulfill her potential as the last Waterbender of the Southern Water Tribe after her mother was killed by the ruthless Fire Nation.

“By the time they actually did start casting, I got the call from my manager that was like, ‘Don't freak out, but we think we have the Avataraudition.’ And obviously, I freaked out,” Kiawentiio tells Harper’s Bazaarwith a laugh in a recent phone interview. Of all the roles she had auditioned for, this one was at the top of her bucket list, because she knew that it could have the same impact on the next generation of Indigenous children that it had on her. “Katara was one of the only people that I could really see myself in. With the role model that she is for young Indigenous women, it's hard not to be drawn to her, especially when the representation is so scarce.”

Kiawentiio got her wish in the spring of 2021. After undergoing an intensive audition process, complete with a seemingly never-ending number of Zooms and chemistry reads, she got the news that would change her life. “They sat me down for another Zoom call, and I was expecting them to tell me it might take a while, but [creator and showrunner] Albert Kim ended up telling me what the project was, who I was auditioning for, and then I landed the role, and I was crying,” she recalls.

Every diehard Avatar fan can recite the basic premise by heart: Long ago, the four nations—Water, Earth, Fire, Air—once lived in harmony, with the Avatar, the master of all four elements, keeping the peace between them. But everything changed when the Fire Nation attacked and wiped out the Air Nomads. A century later, Aang (Gordon Cormier), a 12-year-old Air Nomad who has been frozen and suspended in time in an iceberg, reawakens to take his place as the next Avatar. Feeling responsible for the destruction he was unable to prevent, Aang sets out on a quest with his newfound friends, Katara and her Water Tribe leader brother Sokka (Ian Ousley), to save the world from the onslaught of the power-hungry Fire Lord Ozai (Daniel Dae Kim), who is determined to place all the nations under his authoritarian rule.

Katara, as Kiawentiio puts it, is the heart of the Avatar crew tasked with using their bending powers to restore peace in the divided world. “I think the core factors that make Katara [who she is] are her hopefulness and her optimism, and she's the person in the group that can keep them moving forward in a positive direction, and I think without that, team Avatar wouldn't be able to see the light,” she says.

Below, Kiawentiio reflects on the defining moments of Katara’s arc in the first season (which was shot two years ago in Vancouver), how she has grown alongside her character, and why she feels a new day has come for Indigenous representation in Hollywood.

A lot of the dramatic tension of the first season boils down to Aang’s internal conflict: Does the Avatar need to act alone, or can they afford to have people who help them along the way? In Aang’s case, he doesn’t just want people in his life; he needsthem to help save the world. Why do you think Katara is immediately drawn to Aang and his mission? How do you think that relationship evolves over the course of the season?

I think the reason that she was drawn to him in the first place was this energy of bender to bender, honestly, and I feel like that type of energy [bonds them] not only physically, but just spiritually. It's really intertwined in who they are because Aang plays a huge part in Katara's growth physically with her bending, and I feel like it was just this calling of fate and where you're supposed to be. But in terms of how the relationship has grown, I think it really is just blossoming into a family. Team Avatar is a family in our show. They're not going to leave each other's side; they're always there for each other.

Midway through the season, Koh, the face stealer of the spirit world, temporarily imprisons Katara and her brother Sokka and traps them with some of their darkest memories, which allows us to see, rather than hear about, their backstories. In Katara’s case, she is forced to relive the day she lost her mother. How do you think that loss has affected her in the present day?

It's just painful and that is the point of Koh, right? It is to weaken his prey with their own pain and their own memories. The way I see it is she probably feels helpless. She can't do anything, and that's really what has held her back. What has stuck in her mind is the fact that she couldn't do anything [to save her mom], and to be stuck in that painful loop definitely puts a damper on her confidence that she's been working up this entire season.

That memory of the loss that she went through is a roadblock, and that's something that she has to try and overcome as we go through the series because it really is the main reason that she can't get to that next level [of waterbending]. In the episode with Jett, after he shifted her perspective on how she was thinking and how her memories were acting up, she really unlocks that good energy that her mom was trying to leave her with.

It's impressive how together Katara actually is, especially in our season, because the flashbacks and her memories are so brutal that it's like, "Wow, I can't believe you are still normal." [Laughs.] But that goes to show how resilient she is and how strong she is. I think that was one of the things I took away from her while playing her. I tried to implement her message in my life more to be more optimistic and to have that hope and strength.

When she arrives in the Northern Water Tribe, Katara realizes that the women of this tribe aren’t allowed to fight, which comes as a bit of a culture shock for her. But it’s moving to see how she is able to mobilize the women of all ages when the tribe is under siege by the Fire Nation. At the end of the day, they are the ones who helped defeat the enemy.

Arriving at the Northern Water Tribe was something that she was looking forward to all season, and I think in her mind she had this image of like, "I'm going to get there. I'm going to meet a master, and he's going to teach me everything I need to know, and I’ll finally be able to reach that next step [as a Waterbender]." And getting there and being told basically all your work is not going to be paid off [because you’re a woman] was, in my opinion, devastating. That devastation leads straight into anger, which I relate to. I feel like I get the same waves of emotions, and then that leads to wanting to prove them wrong, wanting to change things [like Katara does]. Honestly, that scene with the women [Waterbenders] is just so beautiful, and it was one of my favorites to film. But I think in her mind, she was just reality checking Master Paku: "We are literally in a war. We are not going to make it. Just use your resources." And not only was that the realistic thing that needed to happen, but the change that she's been fighting for [all season].

I read that you trained for six months ahead of production to commit Katara’s waterbending motions to muscle memory. You spent that time going over forms of tai chi and getting strong enough to handle the action sequences.

Boot camp was intense for me personally, just because I'd never really gone through that before and I don't have as much or any experience outside of the show with martial arts. But it was really helpful to be in the same boat as my character, training-wise. At the start of the show, she really doesn't know that much about bending. As we go along through the episodes, we could see her get more comfortable and more confident in her bending. As we watch Katara gain her confidence, I feel like off-screen I was also gaining confidence with those movements, getting stronger as we go and just getting more comfortable in general.

With the critical success of many Indigenous projects in recent years—Reservation Dogs, Rutherford Falls, Killers of the Flower Moon, The English, Dark Winds—it feels like we have reached an inflection point when it comes to accurate depictions of Native American communities. As someone who is part of this growing movement, what is your take on the state of diversity and inclusion for Indigenous communities? And what do you think is the next step that needs to be taken to move the needle even further?

I think we are making huge steps in the industry. I love being able to look around more and more and see more of our faces, and I do think that there's places that we could improve on for sure. But thinking of how far we've come, even from when I was younger, Katara was one of the only brown people that I saw on my TV, so it's really special to be a part of this generation that's being able to do these things.

I think the next step could be just normalizing things, like it doesn't always have to be an Indigenous story to have Indigenous actors, writers or directors. I think that's one of the things that can get touchy in this industry because we want to include everybody of course, but it doesn't have to be so specific. Why does the doctor have to be [only] the Indigenous doctor that came from [this tribe]? Why can't he just be a doctor that happens to be Indigenous?

Indigenous people or actors can be the main character. Obviously, our culture is always a part of who we are, but it doesn't have to be that the reason we are in this role is because we are Indigenous. We can tell our story as a person and still value and venerate our culture without that being the only reason that we're in the story to begin with.

With big blockbusters, I feel like it ends up being like, "Oh, the lead is white, the other lead is white, and then everybody else is a person of color." I feel like that's a theme that we end up seeing a lot. But another really good way to improve [on that] is supporting Indigenous storytellers. We have so many stories, and [telling them] is one of the things that is keeping our cultures alive, and there are so many stories that could be told from our perspective.

[housesunstone]

tell me about the person you went on 1 date with and hit it off but kept losing contact until rematching on hinge and tinder

Okay! When i tell you this is romcom levels of bs I mean it.

So it's 2015, and this kid, I'll call him C, met for the first time when our high schools were doing a thing. We get thrown into the same group chat for a bit throughout the day, and we hit it off. I don't use Snapchat, and Instagram wasn't a thing I used either back then, so we just drifted apart at the end of that day.

Flash forward to June 2018 and I did a victory lap in high school (I graduated in 2017 but deferred my acceptance into uni until the 2018 fall semester) I just got out of a really shitty relationship with this girl named H. H was a really bad person and I ignored those red flags for wayyyy to long (fun fact H still stalks me and after she dumped me she immediately got into a relationship with another girl who looked like me...) Anyways... H was a year younger than me, so while we were together, I became friends with some of her friends, and some of those friends chose me at the end of the relationship and not her. So as a joke my one friend K went to prom together with our other friend J, and my other friend M was at our table and her date N he went to a different highschool. The night of prom N and I were chatting since that was the first time I ever met him and he said something along the lines of "My friend met someone with the same name as you and had a huge crush on them isn't that funny" mind you we are all between the ages of 17-18 and fully not sober. So it never crossed my mind that this friend of his may be C even though I have a very unique name and no one else in my city has this name.

After prom N goes and tells C about this person who went to the same highschool and has the same name of this person he had a thing for. It took them some time to connect the dots and once they did it was too late I had left my city to go to uni.

Flash forward to March 2019, I dropped out of uni because I didn't like what I was doing. I loved where I was and the friends I made but didn't want to keep wasting money. So I move back home. September 2019 rolls around, and I start at my local college's film program. The film program is right by the IT and Pilot classes so we see them briefly all the time. EVERY SINGLE DAY UNTIL COVID C AND I SAW EACH OTHER AND NEVER REALIZED THAT IT WAS US.

Its now March 2021 we are doing classes fully online and I get hired in my field before I graduate. Still, in class, my teachers just gave me a pass since I had already been hired, and I then actually graduated in April in an online thing and never got a proper graduation. (sad but moving on)

Okay, so it's November 2021, and I decided to redownload Tinder since its been since 2018 that I've had a relationship, and I am one of those people who can't do one-night stands. The first person that pops up is C. We match. We chatted on Tinder for a bit, then moved to texting. December 2021 rolls around, we go on a coffee date. He got the location wrong (since there are two that are in our city), and I stood out in the freezing Northern Ontario winter waiting. He shows up, and we decide instead to get a coffee to go and take a ride in his car.

The date lasted four hours, and we talked the whole time; it was great. After the date, we texted more, but then the holidays rolled around, and we drifted.

In March 2022, I needed to get a new number since my ex was stalking me once more, and I also got a new phone this time and lost all my contacts... I lose C's number.

In June 2022, we match on hinge. We are talking at a great time. We don't go straight to texting this time. He gets an internship out of town, and in July, I leave my city to stand up in a wedding.

In December 2022, we match on hinge again. As we were about to set up a date for the new year, my grandma broke her ankle. Since my grandpa has heart problems and can't take care of her by himself, and I can work from home, I take care of her. Between then and March 2023, we chat on and off before both of us leave hinge around the middle of March.

In May 2023, we met again on Tinder. Again, talking is great. We joke that we keep missing each other. On July 3rd, I left my city for 2.5 months for work reasons.

October 2023, we match again... he has a death in the family, and we lose touch.

AUGUST 13 2024 WE MATCH ON BOTH HINGE AND TINDER. HIS OPENING LINE ON HINGE IS "Remember me?" AND HIS OPENING LINE ON TINDER IS "Because I didn't forget you"

Fucking rom-com bs

[sugalaritae]

the safety zone (jhs) 1/?

summary: it's been exactly 15 years since you saw jung hoseok, your brother's high school best friend and the one who's virginity you took; you don't expect to have anything in common with him least of all a list of things like: living in the same city, enjoying sex (some might say a little too much... judgemental bastards), music, and fashion (amongst so many other things). you definitely don't expect a friendship to bloom or how complicated that friendship could be.

pairing: jung hoseok x f! reader (with background jeon jungkook x the same reader)

genre: the big three: (eventual) smut, fluff, and angst

au: brothers best friend, friends to lovers, based off the movie sleeping with other people, aged up characters (everyone is in their thirties)

rating: 18+

word count: 2.6k

warnings: another fic taking place in canada (this time ontario...which sort of needs a warning), slight mention of anxiety about returning to the town you grew up in, also anxiety over driving, talk of virginity (it's a social construct and absolutely stupid!!), drinking, legal drug use (marijuana), high school reunions (*shudders*), discussion of teenage sex, indigo namjoon and this fucking devastating hoseok

author’s note: oh look griddle has decided to start another drabble series!! this time for our dear jung hoseok because fucking hell i miss him already. i watched sleeping with other people today and i have been wanting to write a hoseok romance (heat waves pt2 is coming don't worry), so this idea slid into my head and then i decided to make it a drabble series and here we are. some of the chapters might just be texting or phone calls, some of it might actually be things that happen, some of them will just be smut (mostly hoseok fucking randos and reader fucking jungkook) i'm sorry for whatever this is. i hope you enjoy it just as much as i do. this is only LIGHTLY edited bc ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

The road ahead of you is full of small hills. You’re fine with driving up and down them now but you remember what it was like to learn how to drive on these roads; the forest around you on either side, the long road down and then the seemingly longer road upward. It’s surprising how now, even years later, you can feel the slight bubble of anxiety in your chest. You can hear your brother’s voice from the backseat tell you that you’re being stupid for being anxious.

”Nothing is going to happen.”

”You do not know that!”

Still, you check the breaks as you’re going down the first hill and they’re working. So you take a breath and you remind yourself that you’re going to be okay.

You know the anxiety is also there because you’re returning home. For a stupid high school reunion, you can’t really believe that you let Namjoon talk you into this. Fifteen years is actually a stupid number that makes you feel old but still, you’re driving the three hours and you’re going to this stupid thing for at least an hour even if you don’t want to and even if you think it’s the dumbest fucking thing to do on a Saturday night.

Instead of concentrating on the anxiety you concentrate on the road ahead of you and the view that you have from the top of each hill. Slowly the town you grew up in begins to appear closer and closer.

You haven’t missed the town itself but you’ve missed the view.

Your phone beeps and for a brief moment you look down at it hoping that you’ll see a certain name flash across it but it’s only your Namjoon’s name. First a text and then the worst picture of him filling your screen. You press the green button on your car’s console.

“Hey.”

“How far out are you?” he asks.

“Like twenty minutes, why? You said the thing wasn’t starting until seven.”

“It’s not but there’s a few of us that are getting together for supper beforehand and I thought maybe, since you’ve been driving you would be hungry.”

This is your brother, kind and considerate while also being an incredible pain in the ass for dragging you to a place that you swore you would never go back to.

“Who is a few of us? Because I’m not super interested in eating with a bunch of guys that all thought playing on the high school soccer team was the best years of their lives like a fucking Bruce Springsteen song.”

“Springsteen never wrote about soccer players only baseball players.”

You groan, “whatever.”

“It’s a few from the team but I thought you’d want to come because Hobi will be there.”

Hobi. Hoseok Jung, the man who’s virginity you took (who also took yours but that’s irrelevant) the night of your prom night. The man who you left still sleeping in the hotel room he had paid for before you flew across the country to study art history. The man who you haven’t spoken to since that night.

Even though, sometimes, you still masturbate to the thought of him. Fifteen years later.

“Hello?? You still there.”

Your brother does not know that there was ever a you and Hobi and you hope that he never will. He’s not protective, just one of those things that you would rather keep to yourself because Namjoon has never really been great at not involving himself in your life (that goes two ways but again, not relevant).

“Yeah, sorry. I guess I’ll come. However, I want it on record that I’m still pissed off you convinced me to come to this thing.”

You hear him clear his throat as he puts on what you like to refer to as his professional voice, “Noted.”

“Thank you. Can I at least shower and change before I meet up with you guys?”

“Umma has your room ready and waiting.”

You sigh, “that’s the only good thing about this whole weekend, Umma and Appa.”

You miss dinner with Namjoon and his friends mostly because you don’t want to visit a restaurant that had been your regular hangout spot when you were a teenager, and you missed your father’s cooking; but now you regret it because instead of being in one of Namjoon’s friend’s car you are in being driven by your father to the school that you had sworn you would never return to. The whole situation makes you feel like a teen again. Well, except that you are dressed better than you had ever imagined you would be at 34.

“Have fun tonight. If you and Joon need a ride home because you’ve had too much to drink don’t be scared to wake Umma and I,” your father said with a smile on his face.

The whole situation is surreal and you laugh a little, nodding.

“Appa, if that happens then we’re going to walk home. I’m not going to wake you and umma up especially after she just said that you haven’t been sleeping well.”

Your father shakes his head and brushes the air with his hand.

“Don’t listen to her.”

“Appa!”

He gives you a smile that he shares with Joon as he returns his hand to the steering wheel and nods.

“Have fun,” your father says with a softness in his eyes that make you feel guilty for not coming home to visit more. They’re good people, your parents, and you are the daughter who can’t return home because she’s too busy.

“Thank you, Appa.” you say as you grip the car’s doorhandle.

You open the door and step out into the night air. Walking a few steps before you fix your blazer and wonder if maybe you should have worn a dress instead of a suit. Looking down at your heels you remind yourself that you look like the badass bitch that you are and whisper the mantra that your therapist had told you to say.

“I can do this, I am capable and I can do this,” you whisper feeling just a little ridiculous.

“You can do this,” a deep voice says behind you.

You turn around with a smirk already playing on your face knowing just who will be standing behind you. Sure enough, Hoseok Jung stands in front of you, one hand in his trouser pocket while the other one holds a joint and you watch as he brings it to his lips and takes a long toke.

“At least I don’t need drugs to calm me down,” you say and you watch as he meets your smirk with one of his own.

“You sure?” he asks with an arched brow and then holds out the joint and chuckles as you take it carefully.

You take a smaller toke at first but then follow up with another slightly longer one before slowly blowing it out. You’re not entirely sure if you should be concerned you don’t cough because that only means that your lungs are used to it and you don’t really want that.

“How you been?” he asks as you hand back the joint.

“Oh you know… busy.” It’s such a lame answer but it’s all you have. “You?”

He nods in response, then slowly rips off the lit end of the joint and closes off the end before tucking it into his blazer pocket.

“You look good. We missed you at the restaurant,” he says as his gaze lazily drifts over your body an action that makes you feel just that except it italics — good.

“Your shirt is ugly,” you say playfully because you do think it is actually a little hideous even though he’s pulling it off in a way that makes you just a little furious.

He chuckles and shakes his head, “it isn’t though. You like it.”

There’s a buzz already between the two of you and you know that it’s not just the weed. It’s a feeling that has been waiting for fifteen years. It’s mature now, a little more subdued, but still makes you feel excited at the possibilities.

“Come on, let’s go inside. Joon is waiting for us.”

You feel the pressure of his hand on your lower back and you step away from it as you slap at his arm.

“Okay Jung, I think I need a few drinks in me before you get to do that.”

He chuckles again and you’re suddenly aware that it’s not the laugh you remember him having, this one is deeper like it’s coming from his chest instead of his head where the higher, excited laughter you remember came from. You know it’s still there and you hope you get to hear it again. You always liked that laugh of his; it made you feel bright from the inside out like he was pulling happiness through the anxiety and settling all of your teenage hormones.

Hoseok and Namjoon met when all three of you were sixteen years old. Hoseok, a transfer from Vancouver, had joined the soccer team and become instant friends with your twin brother and his soccer buddies. You had hated them a little because they were loud and always kicked you out of the living room to watch bad movies teen-boy movies. Except you got to know them because Namjoon was your other half and you tended to meld your friend groups together.

You hadn’t really noticed Hoseok until the night of your prom, in the school gymnasium, and suddenly it was like you both became aware of the other at the same time. Your eyes locked on the dance floor and half an hour later you were pulled into the darkened hallway and being pushed against a locker as his mouth found yours. You had to pretend that nothing had happened as you all packed into the limousine and while everyone was getting progressively more drunk in one hotel room, Hoseok fumbled with your dress in another.

It should have been more awkward than it was. He was gentle and checked in with you and used his hands more than you thought he would.

“You know Hobi is moving to Toronto next month,” Namjoon says as the three of you walk in the general direction of your parent’s house.

Your system is still processing the mixture of alcohol with the weed even though it’s been three hours and you do not like the feeling that ricochets around your head with each step. Also your feet hurt. Heels are the devil’s creation.

You’re happy to be out in the fresh air though. Everything about the reunion was horrible, even though you only spent time at the table with your old friends, there were people there that you had never wanted to see again let alone make small talk with. You didn’t care how many children they had or how they had married their high school sweetheart.

“Oh? Really?” you ask turning to look at Hobi who is standing between you and your brother.

“Yeah,” he says with a wide grin, his gaze drifting just a little to your lips before he meets your gaze again. “I got a job there and I’m excited I think it will be a nice change from out west.”

You bump his shoulder with yours. “Congratulations. You’re going to have to take my number then because you need to know at least more than Yoongi, and Joon isn’t moving back for another two months.”

“I have other friends there,” Hoseok chuckles.

“No one as cool as me though,” you respond with another shoulder bump.

There’s a comfortable silence that settles over the three of you for a moment before Namjoon perks up and imitates Jessica Brookwood (one of the many annoying blonde girls you had gone to school with, who, at the reunion seemed just a bit too excited to have everyone together again) as he shouts, “OH MY GOD! The four of us all together in Toronto?! It will be just like high school!!”

The three of you burst into laughter and there it is — the laugh that lights you up. You grin wide as you watch Hoseok pause and bend backward as he laughs and gripping Joon’s elbow.

You’re surprised to realize that you missed him.

Your head has finally synced back up with the rest of your body by the time you change out of your suit and into your pajamas. You need water though and so you wander down into the kitchen only to find Hoseok also doing the same thing, except he’s only in boxers and a plain white t-shirt. Namjoon had insisted he stay at your family house instead of at the hotel because he had walked you home and the hotel was five blocks away. Hoseok had agreed but you hadn’t expected to have a run-in with him.

“Hey,” you whisper as you open up the cupboard and grab a glass out from it. “Couldn’t sleep?”

He shakes his head, “cotton mouth.”

He hands you the glass he just filled from the brita jug.

“I haven’t drunk from it, promise.”

“Thanks.”

You settle against the counter as you take a sip and watch him.

“I mean it,” you start as you tap your fingers gently against the glass. “We need to get together. I know some pretty great places to eat.”

He smiles and nods as he puts the water jug back into the fridge.

“I would really like that,” he says softly as he moves to stand in front of you and holds out his glass to you. “To reconnecting.”

“To reconnecting,” you say as you tap your glass gently to his.

That familiar buzz slips between you and up your legs. You know that you could kiss him here, that he could press you against the counter and lift you up onto it so you could wrap your legs around his waist and pull him closer. You think about how he could slip his fingers into your cotton pajama pants and make you wet; and for a moment you think it might happen until your phone buzzes on the counter beside you breaking the eye contact you shared.

“Goodnight,” he whispers and gives you a nod before he slips out of the kitchen and down toward Joon’s room.

You take a deep breath to centre yourself before you look beside you and grab your phone. This time, the name you had hoped to appear on your screen all night is there.

Jungkook Jeon: Miss you. Can I see you?

Your palms are suddenly sweaty and you take a deep breath trying to calm down the excitement that he’s texted you for the first time instead of the other way around. You hated that you had followed your friend’s advice and had waited for him to text you before you texted him.

You: I’m out of town.

Jungkook Jeon: When are you back, baby? I miss your taste. I fucking miss you under me

You look around the room and listen for any movement that might surprise you, but the house around you is silent.

You: Tomorrow evening.

Jungkook Jeon: Can I see you? Fuck baby! It’s been too long and I need you

You let the mixture of self-loathing and desire you’ve long made friends with back into your chest as you type out your response.

You: I’ve missed you so much Kook. I need you more than you realize.

Jungkook Jeon: Good. Come back to my place before anywhere else

You: Ok!

Jungkook Jeon: Goodnight, baby. I’ll be thinking of you before I fall asleep

You: Tell me what you’re thinking.

©sugalaritae. Do NOT repost, edit, or translate any of my work. I only post on ao3 and tumblr

[eretzyisrael]

by Dion J. Pierre

A famous theater in the Ontario province of Canada is facing widespread criticism over its “postponement” of the upcoming Hamilton Jewish Film Festival, a decision that many observers have interpreted as a cancelation motivated by anti-Israel animus.

“After receiving numerous security and safety related emails, phone calls, and social media messages, the Playhouse Cinema reached a difficult decision to postpone the Hamilton Jewish Federation’s venue rental,” the Playhouse Cinema, located in the city of Hamilton, said in a statement posted to X/Twitter on Tuesday. “On Saturday, March 16, our decision to postpone this venue rental was reached amid security and safety concerns at this particularly sensitive time.”

Organized by the Hamilton Jewish Federation, the event was slated to feature six films across three days, April 7-9, with each exploring different eras of Jewish history, from life in modern day kibbutzim bordering the Gaza strip to Poland during the communist purges of Jews in the 1960s. Several of the films were written and produced in Israel by Israeli creators.

On Wednesday, the Hamilton Jewish Federation said that Playhouse Cinema, in canceling the festival, has acted dishonorably and adhered to the wishes of antisemites.

“The Hamilton Jewish Federation is outraged by the recent decision made by the Playhouse Cinema to backtrack on its commitment to host the 2024 Hamilton Jewish Film Festival after the theatre received a small number of complaints and threatening emails objecting to the fact that Israeli films are included in this year’s line-up,” the group said. “The decision, coming just weeks before the scheduled event, is a lost opportunity to engage the Greater Hamilton community in a Jewish cultural event during the highest rise of antisemitism we’ve seen in recent history, and in the aftermath of the bloodiest day in Jewish history since the Holocaust.”

Antisemitism has skyrocketed in Canada since the Hamas terror group’s onslaught across southern Israel on Oct. 7.

The Hamilton Jewish Federation added that the films that would have been screened are culturally relevant and valuable for portraying the past and “contemporary Jewish experience,” as well as the “reality of co-existence” between Jews and Arabs living in Israel as neighbors and citizens. One of them, it noted, is the final project of a filmmaker Hamas murdered during its Oct. 7 massacre, a tragedy that has left an indelible scar on Jewish communities throughout the world.

Jewish nonprofits commented on the matter on Tuesday and Wednesday, describing the festival’s scrapping as an injustice and calling on lawmakers to intervene and restore the original agreement between both parities.

“Unacceptable and appalling,” tweeted HonestReporting Canada, a nonprofit that promotes fair media coverage of Israel. “Silencing Jewish voices in a time when Jews are the #1 targeted religious group for hate crimes in Canada is a dangerous precedent and only gives more ammunition to those who hide their antisemitism under the guise of ‘anti-Zionism.'”

Friends of Simon Wiesenthal Center, whose mission is to combat antisemitism and spread awareness of the Holocaust, added, “We denounce Playhouse Cinema’s decision to reverse its commitment to host the Hamilton Jewish Film Festival this year, in the latest example of an organization yielding to threats and intimidation from anti-Israel activists.”

[christinescupofcoffee]

dead man walking

it was three years ago when I wrote this fic. time to bring it out into the open 🔥

Chapter One: the needle and the damage done

It had been two weeks since he had collapsed from the dirty needle, and she still reeled from the news of it. Those words had crept over her like the icy cold fingers of death herself right across her skin. The man of her dreams and the one whom she believed to be the one for her, gone forever, all by the swipe of something that she didn't understand. What made no sense to her was the fact that she did everything she could to keep him away from the black rain.

Krista had met Joey in Kansas City when they came through on their tour for that bright and sunny yellow album with the red spiral on the cover: she had run into him during breakfast there in the hotel lobby. One thing led to another, and the next thing she knew, the man had given her his phone number to back home in upstate New York. All the date nights and the days she sneaked out of the house or after a display of fashion over the course of two years, and it all had come down to that moment where he took her by the hand and then slid down on one knee before her. He showed her the ring and she was overwhelmed with love for him.

A brand new cute little house near the shores of the lake, taken care of by a New Zealander who only went by Mrs. Jones and a mysterious man from New York City.

Everything seemed to fall in place for the two of them, until he got the tearful phone call from Charlie.

He was out. Gone. They had made the unanimous decision to rid of him, and they had their eyes set on either Mark of Death Angel or John of Armored Saint, and they had their eyes on those two men for some time at that point of the phone ringing, but Krista took him by the hand and she held him close to her.

They were to do more than merely pitch a tent. A house. A roost and a place to call their own after such a time of turmoil.

She knew it would be far more difficult given a fashion model could only do so much for herself, and on top of that, she had a wedding to plan out for them. Guests to invite. A dress to try on. So much to do with the clock over their heads and yet every day, when she woke up, she gave Joey a kiss to reassure of him of their future together.

They were bound to be husband and wife, like something she had sworn to be real and right out of the movies: she wanted to have it all planned out, all the way down to what cufflings he would wear on that big day. Because of the sudden cut to their income, they had to push back the wedding to the following summer, but Krista assured him that things would look up at that point. A lot could in fact happen within a year, as they so realized.

Even while she nestled down next to him, right by his side every single night, she still kept her eye on those brown eyes, once sparkling and bright with life and love, now as cold as the earth which comprised the shores of Lake Ontario. His thin body seemed far thinner than she had remembered, the same body she had fallen in love with over and over again when they lay down together.

Every caress of his skin and he seemed less present each and every time. His sun kissed skin dried out and turned as cold as ice some nights, even when he cuddled underneath the blankets to keep warm. That first winter right after the news was the hardest. Each lake effect blizzard seemed worse than the last: the house seemed colder and colder every single night the snows fell over them.

But Krista kept her head up. She knew that love would keep them together. She knew that there was no way she could glue his broken heart together unless he found the courage within him, and thus she kept her patience with him. Before either of them knew it, the snows melted away and the first colorful blooms of springtime emerged from the cold earth.

On the summer nights before the wedding, she stroked his back and his shoulder when he lay on his side and shivered from the feeling within him.

His brown eyes washed out with the red of blood and his body barely stood up on his own two feet. His coarse dark hair wilted and withered despite the blooms all around them and within the yard, and the nourishing warmth of the daylight. She still kissed him and touched him, however.

She was going to love him no matter what happened to either of them.

She was going to love him all over no matter what happened. Her vow rang true against all odds, until the odds finally caught up with his emeciated body and his flagging energy. He withered with the impending autumn and the transformation of colors out in the yard and around the shores of the lake.

All summer long, she advised him to sit out on the porch within the sunshine, at least to feel some genuine warmth because if her body couldn't do it, then the caress of the sun held the power for him. He did and he coughed and choked on the otherwise humid air from the lake, as if he had been cut and dried out like a thin strip of meat.

The last thing she heard from him before she called up the medics was the sound of his own voice.

“Krista! Krista, I'm dying!”

His lips as blue as the sky overhead and his skin as cold as the depths of the lake.

The medics came within a bright flash and a glimpse. She pressed her lips to his own before they swept him away to his fate.

She may as well have been caked in his own blood. The blood of the love of her life. The blood of the Iroquois nation on her hands. Anthrax needed to know about it and perhaps they could have the fear of god themself put into their hearts.

At that point, they had released their first album with John, the royally violet tinged Sound of White Noise, back in the middle of May. How appropriately named, she figured, given the sheer amount of impenetrable white noise that surrounded their ears as if to bestow them oblivion to what had happened to their former brother.

One night. One night was all it took for everything to shut down.

When the head nurse called her, she told Krista that the cause was obstruction of the lungs as well of the kidneys. What brought it all on was unknown at the moment. But nothing could keep the tears at bay for her.

The tears and the intense wave of emotion deep within her. He was so close to her not long before then. She swore she had seen a glimmer of life within those tired eyes the night before. A glimmer of life and rapture, the Joey she had fallen in love with a few years before.

The money she had put up for the wedding returned to her and in turn, she gave it to the mortuary for his cremation. The beautiful royal blue urn filled with his ashes, and with a lid which sealed shut. Though she wished she could scatter him over the shores of the lake and he would nourish the earth with his love, she needed his spirit around for when the time came.

One afternoon, two weeks following the cremation ceremony, Krista was met with a bouquet of pearly pink and white lilies on her front step, courtesy of Frankie. Next to the flowers came a hand written note in black ink:

Krista—

The five of us are stunned, shocked, and beyond words for the loss. I am, especially. I hope you can forgive us: we didn't want to be that hard on him, and now we wish we never were.

I should probably also tell you that Charlie was wiping away tears when he first called Joey and told him he was out. Charlie and I especially didn't want him to leave, and I can tell you right now that Scott regretted it almost immediately, even before Joey passed, but we're in business. We had to get serious, and we had to make a decision. If it's any comfort to you at all, new presses of White Noise will be dedicated in his memory.

We love you to the moon and back, and we hope to see you soon,

Frank, Charlie, Scott, Dan, and John

She nodded her head and smiled at that.

No way she could hold it against them, especially after all of that. She took a whiff of the lilies and closed her eyes to better take in the aroma.

“Krista?” A big voice behind her caught her attention. She turned her attention to the sidewalk behind her: there stood a tall slender boy wrapped in all black, his jet black hair pinned back over the crown of his head to stay out of his handsome face and his deep set steely eyes. If she had no idea about him, she swore he was a vampire who walked amongst the daylight. He struck her as familiar, but she never knew where she had seen him before.

He showed her a little smile and those deep eyes sparkled with life.

“Alex?” he said as he pressed a hand to his chest. “Alex Skolnick?”

She gasped.

“Ohhhh, the kid from—” She paused for a second. “Testament, is it?”

“Yes'm!”

“I thought you looked familiar,” she greeted him as she descended the steps: even though she was rather tall herself, he stood before her akin to a radio tower. “How are you?”

“Eh,” he shrugged his shoulders and ran a hand over the right side of his forehead, “today's been better than most, I'd say. How are you, though?”

“I just got some flowers from Frank—Frank Bello,” she said as she showed him the bouquet.

“Ooh, yes, lovely! That was sweet of him, too.”

“You want to come inside for something to drink?” she offered him. “You look rather road weary.”

“I came up here just to see how you were doing because I just got news of it myself,” he explained, “I was down in the city yesterday when I caught wind of it. And so—yes, I'd love to!”

Krista led him into the little house there on the side of the street, surrounded by tall oak trees which were in the process of shedding their lush orange leaves. As she held the door for him and then walked into the house after him, a strange sensation crept up inside of her. It had been there for some time at that point, and a feeling which she knew and remained in the dark about, and a feeling she had no idea she would feel before. She set the flowers down on the coffee table and she thought about a brand new ceramic vase just for them as she made her way into the kitchen.

Alex took his seat at the kitchen table and his long narrow legs spread out before him. Just like how Joey used to sit there: he ran his fingers through his black hair, as black as Joey's ringlets. For a young man, he seemed so serious, especially when she poured him a glass of root beer straight out of the fridge. She set it down before him and he glanced up at her with bit of a grimace on his face.

“Are you okay?” she asked him as she took her seat next to him. “You look like something is—upsetting you. Like, you're distracted by something.”

Alex paused, and he held his glass of root beer close to his chest. Even with the jet black hair, she could see it over the right of his brow: the glimmer of gray upon his head which appeared more prominent than the last time she had seen him live with Testament. The last time she had seen him, he also had more pep in his step. He had traveled there to upstate New York for a reason, and not because he wanted to see her. He nibbled on his bottom lip and he flexed those lanky fingers on the glass' side.

“Well, it's two things,” he began in a low voice, “the first thing is I left Testament.”

“Really?” She was stunned, and he slowly nodded, albeit with a frown on his face.

“It was my doing, though,” he explained. “I had been wanting to leave for about a year so I finally did last Halloween. I just want to do something other than metal, you know? There's a lot I like and there's a lot I feel like I can do with my fingers and the strings of a guitar. So—I left.”

“Oh, absolutely. And, what's the other thing?”

“My girlfriend and I broke up. About a week ago.”

“Aww, I'm so sorry,” she declared as she set a hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah, and she was the first person I told about my decision to leave.” He shook his head and closed his eyes. “The first person I told about it and��she didn't even stick around long enough to back me up.” He took a sip of his root beer with a pensive look on his face. “I was in a jazz band called The Urge, but they broke up recently. Where I go from here is—anyone's guess.”

His arrival there at the house felt like a godsend of sorts: a woman who had just lost her groom to be and the love of her life crossed paths with a young man who had found himself in a realm of turmoil. Love from the outside could not save either of them, and she knew this to be true when she glanced down at her body. He turned his attention to her and frowned.

“You okay?” he asked her. Krista pursed her lips at the question. She had no one else to tell it to, but here she was given this gift of another boy.

“Don't tell Mrs. Jones, please,” she whispered to him.

“Of course I won't,” he assured her with a shake of his head.

“Mrs. Jones, by the way, is my caretaker—the owner of this house is a man named Peter.”

“Peter?”

“Peter Steele. He lives down in New York City. If he finds out about this, too, he'll get all over my ass about it. I have to find a way to tell him about it at some point, so don't worry about me.”

“What is it?” he kindly asked her. She shifted her weight and glanced down at the waist band of her denim jeans, still snug against her waist.

“I'm pregnant,” she confessed.

“Seriously?” Alex raised his dark eyebrows and gaped at her, to which she nodded. “When'd you find out?”

“Two days ago,” she continued, “I was feeling a little—sick to my stomach when I woke up that morning, and I just—had the feeling within me.”

“So Joey went two weeks ago...” His voice trailed off, and she nodded her head.

“Yup. I took a test two days ago and it came up positive.”

Alex shrugged his narrow shoulders and took another sip from his glass. “Well, at least you have—something—to remember him by,” he pointed out.

“Oh, absolutely. And I know that Joey would've wanted me to do something for us, even before we got the phone call. We had talked about it—you know, raising children, but nothing had ever stuck in place, though.” She squinted her eyes at him. “How 'bout you? Have you ever thought of having kids yourself?”

“I have somewhat,” he confessed, “like it crossed my mind a little bit when I turned eighteen and again when I was in a relationship, but—I don't really see myself in that position. Never really have, either. I'd rather expand my mind and my playing abilities than build a house. Raising kids is hard, too, like even I can tell you that. Lot of money and patience—you know, things I don't have readily at my disposal. I knew when I left Testament that my income was going to be at zero for a while, completely screwing my chances of procreating, too. Not that I had much of a chance to begin with. Jazz is in a weird spot right now, and has been for some time now.”

“Do whatever your heart tells you,” she advised him. “Play to your heart's desire.”

“Just some sick—la di da di da di da.” He rolled his eyes up into his head and she giggled at him for it.

“Well, what kind of music do you want to play?” she asked him.

“I don't really know. I just want to find myself and be as good as I possibly can be.” She chuckled at that.

“That should be everyone's goal,” she stated.

“Right? I don't want to limit myself—and I know that sort of thing can make it seem like I'm stepping on people's toes, too. When I told Eric I was leaving, he was like 'what? No! You can't go!' and I was like, 'it's my decision, dude. Take it or leave it.'” He took another sip and then his expression turned serious. “I'm a little afraid to ask if it was hard on Joey. I mean, I know it was but I never really knew the full extent of it, though.”

“You have no idea,” Krista said, and the tears welled up again. “I tried to help him. I tried to get him to clean himself up and—he just—” She closed her eyes and bowed her head, and Alex reached out for a comforting touch on her part.

“Clean himself up?”

She raised her head with tears brimmed in her eyes.

“He wasn't hooked to anything when I came into the picture about four years ago,” she assured him. “So I don’t know how he got a hold of it. I don’t know, Alex. I just don’t know.” He knitted his eyebrows together and then he turned to the window before them, to the view of the street and the trees and shrubs right across the way.

“Speaking of weird spots, metal is in such a—strange spot right now,” he noted. And he turned his attention back to her. “Yeah, says the guy who bailed from a metal band.”

She chuckled at that.

“You ought to go to Seattle,” she advised him. “I'm sure the people there will welcome you.”

“Nah—I like New York. My parents both hail from Sheep's Head—down in Brooklyn.” He took another sip of root beer and that time, he closed his eyes. A stray tendril of hair dangled down over his left temple; she eyed the prominent tip of his nose as well as the delicate skin underneath his chin and the rather full shape of his Adam's apple.

“You're a very beautiful boy,” she confessed with a shake of her head. “A very beautiful Libra boy. Joey was a Libra, too.” He set down the glass before him and turned to her again.

“His birthday's two weeks after me,” he noted. “Right? I was born on September twenty ninth and he was born—” He hesitated.

“October thirteenth,” she filled in.

“Gotcha—so, yeah, two weeks apart! I turned twenty five.”

“He had just turned thirty three before he went.”

“God...” He shook his head at that. “It almost feels like losing your big brother. This older entity who just stood over you and you had no choice but to look up to him.”

He downed the rest of his drink and then he ran his fingers through his hair.

“I should probably get going,” he told her in a soft voice, “it's going to be dark soon and I don't really like being in a wide open space like upstate when it's nightfall. It's what I get for growing up in the San Francisco Bay Area where the fog comes in and just settles over everything and makes it all spooky.”

Krista chuckled again and she set a hand on his shoulder. “Well, thank you, Alex. This was very kind of you to come here.”

He ran his tongue over his bottom lip.

“When I heard the news, I just—” He shrugged his shoulders. “I wanted to do something. Just knowing how close Testament is to Anthrax and everything. Things are up in the air for me—and how, that's an understatement—so it just makes sense. I want to find a kindred spirit, if you will.”

She showed him a little smile and cocked her head to the side. “Where you are staying tonight?” she asked him.

“Just a little hotel not too far from here—I walked here so it's—” He gestured behind him. “—within walking distance.”

“You should stay here,” she told him. “I don't really like the idea of you staying in a crappy hotel, especially after everything you've been through lately.”

He flashed her a thoughtful look, but he never said anything.

“Besides I'm—” She set her hands on her stomach.

“Just barely,” Alex said with a little crooked smile.

“But it's my instinct talking, though,” Krista insisted with a serious look on her face. “I'm serious, Alex. I don't want you staying in a place that's less than comforting.”

He paused again, and he gazed down at the rim of his glass. “I'll get my things and I'll be right back,” he told her.

“I'll be here when you get back, too,” she told him.

“I have a feeling you and I will be grinding this axe a long time,” he admitted to her, and she rested her hand on her stomach again, which once more, barely showed any sign that was with child. “'Scuse me—you and—the one to be—will grind the axe for a long time.”

“I'm sure you will, too,” she assured him with a wink.

[deebeeus]

"Hello, you have reached DeeBeeUs™ International Headquarters. We can't come to the phone right now because we are on the road to the @elmiravintageguitars show in Elmira Ontario, Canada, and we are SUPER EXCITED about this because its our first guitar show in FOUR YEARS! "We promise to return with a CF Express card crammed full of gear shots that will be posted in the coming days, but for now, please enjoy these photographs. We have left Douglas 🦫 in charge of headquarters, and he plans to noodle on @tomgibson3783's #Gibson #CustomShop #LesPaul #TVJunior through Deebs' 1966 #Traynor #YGA1 B. "We will be gone all day, but if you care to leave your name, number, and a brief message after the bleep, we will return your call as soon as possible. thank you and happy #GibSunday!" Bleeeeeeeeeep.

[jaimebluesq]

WIP Wednesday 08/30

I think it's been a while since I put up one of these, so here's a taste of something I'm working on - SangCheng, modern day AU set in Ottawa, Ontario, Canada, to hopefully be finished before the end of the year *crosses fingers*

~~~

“There’s my favourite young engineer!” Jiang Fengmian crowed over the noisy crowd.

Wei Wuxian entered the hall – late, of course – with his new boyfriend on his arm, and Jiang Cheng’s father greeted him with a smile and a paternal pat on the shoulder.

Jiang Cheng couldn’t remember the last time his father had greeted him in such a manner.

“We told you he’d be here,” Wei Changze scolded, bringing Wei Wuxian a glass of wine. “I love my son, but punctual he is not.”

“And someone is looking particularly handsome tonight,” Cangse Sanren cooed as she approached Lan Zhan. “Did A-Xian pick out that jacket?”

“Mn,” Lan Zhan nodded.

“A-Niang, be nice,” Wei Wuxian playfully scolded despite the wide grin on his face. His parents loved his boyfriend and were nothing but supportive of him, had been even before he’d come out years ago.

Jiang Cheng was not jealous. Not at all. Not one bit.

There was a huff at Jiang Cheng’s side and he glanced at his mother from the corner of his eye. If looks could kill, Jiang Fengmian and Cangse Sanren would be long dead. He felt his phone buzz, but decided this wasn’t the moment to risk taking it out to see what Nie Huaisang had texted him.

“Jiang Cheng!” Wei Wuxian waved at him, and at the risk of angering his mother, Jiang Cheng left her side to approach his best friend. “You remember Lan Zhan from New Year’s Eve?”

“Of course.” He exchanged nods with his friend’s boyfriend. “It’s good of you to come.”

“Xian’er invited me.”

Wei Wuxian’s face broke out in a huge grin at that proclamation, and the expression on Lan Zhan’s face might as well have had heart-eyes for all to see. Jiang Cheng resisted the urge to retch at the sight.

Suddenly, his phone began to ring, immediately attracting everyone’s attention.

“Ah, excuse me a moment, I should take this.” He pulled out his phone as he stepped away to a quieter corner of the hall. “Huaisang, what’s up?”

“I sent you half a dozen texts that you didn’t reply to, so I figured you just might need a reprieve.”

He lifted a hand to cover his mouth lest his family see the small smile he wore at the sound of Nie Huaisang’s voice. “Admit it, you were worried I’d killed someone.”

“Have you?”

“Of course not!”

“I’m almost disappointed.”

Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes.

“Anyway, I know it’s been a rough night for you,” Nie Huaisang continued, “so this is your chance if you need an out – you can say an emergency came up at work or at your apartment or something.”

“You’re a life saver.” He sighed. “I’d say a night at home is better than this, but fuck, a frontal lobotomy would be better than this.”

“Well, sure, you can go home if you like-” There was a pause as someone laughed in the background on Nie Huaisang’s end. “Or, you can join us. If you’re interested, that is. It’s just the five of us, but we have so much food, and I’m sure Da-ge and A-Niang would be happy to have someone to talk hockey with.”

The sounds of the noisy banquet hall faded as Jiang Cheng focused on Nie Huaisang’s voice. “You’re sure I wouldn’t be in the way?”

“Is that Jiang Cheng?” a woman’s voice could be heard over the line. “You tell him we have some custard buns with his name on them.”

Nie Huaisang chuckled. “You heard Mama, you’re more than welcome. No pressure, though. I just thought it might be a nice way to spend Spring Festival.”

Jiang Cheng looked back into the hall in time to see his mother and father begin an argument over something or other while Wei Changze and Cangse Sanren looked at them with pity. Jin Zixuan looked lost since Jiang Yanli had left with Jin Ling. And a number of aunties had surrounded Wei Wuxian and Lan Zhan offering them red envelopes that they dutifully attempted to refuse.

“Text me the address and I’ll be there as soon as I can get out of here.”

[runwayrunway]

No. 43 - Porter Airlines

I consider myself very lucky to live near enough to an airport, located directly beneath one of the main departure paths, that I can regularly see airplanes flying overhead on their way off to wherever. Depending on the plane, they can pass over my house as low as 3,000 feet! ...which is still way too high for my phone's camera! So while I can see the plane decently, even make out details of the livery, what my camera sees is...this.

Okay, so my planespotting hobby mostly consists of literally spotting them (I am very good at this part! It's the photography that I struggle with!) because I'm unable to shell out for a telephoto lens, but thanks to the magic of flight tracking software I'm able to identify the exact airplane that this is, rather than being forced to base my review off this crunchy "photograph".

So, I'd like to introduce you all to our subject for today, C-GLQR! And, by extension, Porter Airlines - requested by @fungaloids, plus an anon.

First flown in February of 2009 and delivered in December of the same year, C-GLQR has served her entire fourteen-year career with Porter Airlines. She's actually only slightly younger than the airline itself. Porter was founded in 2006, featuring executives who formerly served in similarly high positions in Canadian regional airlines Air Ontario and Canada 3000, American Airlines, and...apparently the former US ambassador to Canada for some reason. They're about as large as you can get while still more or less being a regional airline, and they fly a fleet I'd call medium-sized of Embraer E195-E2 jets and an even larger number of Bombardier Dash 8-Q400 turboprop planes, like the pictured C-GLQR, out of their hub in Toronto.

One interesting thing about Porter (inconsistently stylized as lowercase-p porter, but it lacks the clear intent of something like condor so I'm not going as far as to write it that way myself) is said hub. See, when I say Toronto, you probably think of the worst airport in the entire world, Toronto Lester B. Pearson International Airport. Thankfully for Porter's customers they do not have to go to the labyrinth of human misery which is Toronto Pearson, and are instead corralled into Billy Bishop Toronto City Airport, colloquially known as Toronto Island Airport, potentially because it's changed its name twice and the local population got sick of remembering what it's calling itself now.

image: DXR

The 'island' designator is quite literal. This is a teeny tiny airport, just barely large enough to land the Q400 and definitely too small to land jets. The fact that Porter flies to Chicago-Midway, Washington-Dulles, and Boston-Logan is a testament to the Q400's absolutely wild range rather than an indication that this tiny scrap of land is in any meaningful way an international airport. It has two runways and both are shorter than the ones at the smallest airport I've ever flown into that had an actual terminal, Vieques. I'm surprised they can operate a Q400 there. In fact, they can't - they had to pick a seat configuration smaller than the standard in order to be able to use the runways at Billy Bishop. (Incidentally, this means their seats have a more generous pitch, so I suppose that's a point for them.)

So why would they want to put the biggest passenger turboprop in service in the West onto this tiny airstrip? Well, Porter's...reason for existing, so it seems, is to force the Toronto Port Authority to expand the airport and build a bridge to the mainland despite the fact that nobody who lives in the area wants this. Hilariously, they have been entirely unsuccessful in this venture and now operate a second hub in Pearson. That's where they put the jets - after all, if you tried to land an E195-E2 at Toronto Island you would have a very wet plane and some very mad passengers on your hands very quickly.

I mean, to be fair, getting to not go to Pearson is a selling point.

I don't have any other place to put this but they have an adorable raccoon mascot named Mr. Porter. I'm not sure why a raccoon, but I like him. He doesn't appear on the livery at all - heaven forbid we do something interesting - but he's there and he's cute. I do have to point out, though, that this is one of the worst names for SEO I've seen in a while, given Mr. Porter is the name of the men's department of extremely popular luxury fashion outlet shop Net-a-Porter.

I think raccoons could be a pretty nice source of inspiration for a livery, what with their colorblocking and stripes. You could even make the planes' engine cowlings look like weirdly human little hands. I would hate that, but I would respect it! Instead Porter has taken the approach of making the plane mostly white. Revolutionary for sure.

I'll begin with the good and say that I really like this grey underside with its little outlines - I think this is an absolutely brilliant design for the Dash 8. Unlike the ATR series, which I've talked about a fair few times before on this blog, the Q400 is about as angular as a plane can get. I've never touched on that shape before, but I've discussed how carriers, though I'm sure it's by accident and they never consider this, work with the shape of the ATR to good effect. The curvaceousness of the ventral fairing on the ATR is complemented by long swoops like the ones used by Azul, IndiGo, and Air Astra. The Q400, in contrast, stores its landing gear in the engine cowlings, allowing for a very flat belly and uninterrupted fuselage that looks best with sharp long lines and blocky geometric shapes. If this livery had any other details, this would be such a nice touch - they even hammer the point in with the same design on the bottom of the cowlings.

Unfortunately, it's so light-colored that it's difficult to notice. You could mistake it for shadows settling on natural grooves in the airframe if you didn't know what the bottom of a Q400 is supposed to look like, and it isn't as if you can see it when the plane is parked.

You may well not see the wordmark, either. While the sans-serif font chosen is almost gratingly boring it is at least not hideous, but it's located in such an out-of-the-way location it almost feels like they're ashamed of it. It's so needlessly far back and low-sitting that the wing blocks it from half the possible angles, and it's not like it's accentuated in any way. You could so easily miss it. This wordmark is honestly Lufthansa-tier.

Another thing I don't like is the use of the tail. It's blocked out very Detached Tail Syndrome style, refusing to engage with the large block leading from it to the fuselage. I would understand, though not approve, if this was because they didn't want to redesign the balance of the tail when applying the livery to a new style of plane, but the Q400 is what they started with! The livery was designed for this plane and it seems to want you to just not notice this significant chunk of fuselage! It makes the whole airframe look so desolate and empty. The kindest thing I can say for it is that it looks lazy, but really it looks more unfinished. I just struggle to understand why these choices were made, in all honesty. Surely this isn't the best you can do.

Right, right, okay. There's something I've been dancing around on purpose and I think it's obvious what it is. I just wanted to get in an entire review first because there's sort of no going back once I've mentioned it. Everything I said before, while very important, is subordinate to this one...utterly perplexing choice which turns failure to infamy.

PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER

Grade: Z-

[devsgames]

how hard was it to set up stuff regarding economical/legal side of things for gamedev? (regirestering a company, register trademark, recieve income from steam, pay taxes, etc) i know that its country specific but i would want to hear your side of things

You're right in that it's incredibly specific to your location! I'll go over what I've had to do thus far for specifically living in Ontario, Canada; A lot of how I've gained the following insight has been from thorough Googling, looking on government resources and asking people.

Setting Up A Business

Here in Ontario we have generous small business laws, anyone making money from their own business is by default considered a "Sole Proprietorship". Normally businesses need to charge tax based on every Good or Service sold, however Sole Proprietorships don't need to do this until they reach $30k yearly profits in Ontario.

Currently I'm making maybe 5k a year from my games so I'm safe, and thus technically don't even need to register a business. The tradeoff however is that I'm legally and financially responsible for my own business, so if something happens financially or legally it's my own personal risk and not the business's.

There's a few business types here with different meanings (Partnership, LLC, Co-op, etc). Technically I should register one at some point but since it's just me and I'm broke it won't do much. To register a business in Canada isn't hard (I think it's basically just a 30 minute phone call where they give you a 'business number' for registeration and tax use and say "congrats you're a business now!). You have to come up with a unique business name which I've consistently floundered back and forth on and have never stuck to anything which is why "Dev's Games" is the best "brand" I have at the moment. Good thing I'm not registered yet!

Registering a Trademark

This also depends on your location, and I have never done this. I'm sure in many cases there is reason to if I really cared about exclusively using titles or names of things, but I honestly don't.

I also genuinely don't thinm not having a trademark as a problem! Trademarks strike me as useful for a company trying to build a big business around a name that is aleeady popular and ripe for idea theft (E.g Photoshop, Google, Adobe) and stopping others from using it. Right now, I'm so small that this doesn't matter, and I'd honestly consider someone drawing inspiration from me an honor as opposed to something I'd want to contain. Maybe if one of my titles got like SUPER viral down the road I'd seriously look into it; apparently it's a lot of paperwork and something you'd have to find a lawyer for.

Getting Payments

This is, you guessed it, just paperwork that depends on your operating location!

Established storefronts like Steam have a process for registering your account with them and when I started out this was the part of the process I was the most anxious for, but it's actually super easy (which is why there's so much shovelware on there). Steam as a baseline takes 30% of all your sales on the platform (an absolutely insane amount for what the platform does). You'll fill out some paperwork and based on your operating location to determine how much money Steam automatically sets aside for taxes (VST).

As a Canadian they take 0% because Canada-America has tax exemption treaties which make receiving payments from American companies like this tax-free.

Outside of that there's not much, you give them your bank account number and they send payments one month after month end (e.g. end of December they'll pay you for November's sales). Everything is in USD so be prepared for things to be a bit wonky in that respect, and note it costs $100 USD to add a game to Steam. Setting up store pages for your games is its own kind of busywork I won't get into here, but publishing to Steam on the whole is much more work than something like Itch.io.

All in all I like Steam's process for registering and they make it pretty easy to get onto the platform since it's in their interest to potentially make fat money off of your work for doing very little :)

Managing Income

I struggle with anxiety around finances so this part is long.

I set up my own bank account explicitly for earning/spending on my games - prior to getting laid off I only used it for that, but recently I've been having to pay rent from it now too sometimes.

Get a platform that allows you to track and categorize your expenses and income over time. I've been using Wave to balance my income and expenses, as I find it's pretty simple for my needs and lets me mark what different payments are to avoid losing secret money to things I forget about. It connects directly to your bank account, so it will be the most accurate form of income tracking.

Eventually you will buy things and forget what you bought, or receive money for something you're not sure why, or lose/receive money months after you should have. Steam and Itchio have ways of viewing your payouts and reports, but it's hard jumping through 2-3 websites trying to track down a magic number - viewing this all in one place is invaluable to your sanity and making sure you don't go broke. Having this will be a godsend to you during tax time.

Always have additional "rainy day" money set aside - when I started I put about $100 aside from each paycheque at my full time job into my business. Keep an eye on your income flow and know how much you can anticipate to spend on your work. Know how your business money relates to your personal finances and be ready to take money out of your business for emergencies, and vice versa for business emergencies. Money put aside to pay contractors is money you cannot and should not touch.

Contractors based in the US will often ask you pay them through a certain site, many of which aren't available outside the US. Don't be afraid to ask if they use something like Paypal instead. Keep extra money aside for them so you can tip. Make sure you're aware of how they expect to be paid, at what interval, and how much, and keep that money aside. And expense tracker is also helpful here.

Keep in mind most businesses operate on USD, and be mindful of how your local currency converts over. CDN is usually ~60-70% of USD, so I often have to pay more for things like subscriptions or labour then they're listed. When a contractor tells you their rates always be sure you know what currency they're talking about - sometimes I've expected to pay USD when I've had to pay AUS.

Also do not quit your dayjob. Make money through a stable employment and fund your games as a fun side hobby. Easier said than done, but there is an almost 0% chance you will be able to afford surviving off of making indie games as a full living and be afford to keep a roof over your head. I've shipped 4 games on Steam now and I only make about $100-$300 USD from sales there depending on the month. Minimum wage in Ontario is ~$25k a year, I am currently making like $5k from sales on Steam alone. Working at McDonalds would pay better.

Taxes

Taxes are very regional, so results will vary.

Usually businesses have to set aside sales taxes on goods sold. Since I'm a Sole Proprietorship in Ontario making less than 30k I don't have to. Taxes for me basically consists of saying "I made this much" to the government (good expense tracking REALLY helps here).

One thing to note is that at least here the government has NO IDEA how video games fit into business. Until recently there was no "Game Development" business type, and much of the tax reporting interface is obsessed with physical goods; it'll ask how much your "inventory" is worth, how many "goods" you have sold (games are technically "goods" even though they're not a physical thing). Basically be prepared for your tax system to be used to dealing with physical retailers and farmers, and not with digital-only software developers.

---

I'm sure there's more I can cover but my hands hurt. A lot of this is researching your local laws and/or talking to devs local to your area. It's not hard to do any of this necessarily, it's just a lot of paperwork (which is nevertheless super helpful to put together). Once you learn how it all works everything is way less scary though! :)

[jaydeiswriting]

WIP Intro: What The Water Makes of Us

As long as your heart is worthy, drowning is reversible.

Status: ~6K into the first draft

Genre: adult literary fiction

Setting: small town Ontario, on the lake

Overspecific target audience(s)*: sapphics with complicated relationships with religion, folks who are obsessed with bodies of water and the moon, intellectual agnostics, ruth-and-naomi-as-lovers truthers, unbelongers and misfits & anyone fundamentally changed by the scene in Saved! (2004) where Hilary Faye drives directly into the Jesus figure

Synopsis: A worthy heart always rises.

Despite her marriage to the leader, Vinette never really believed in Lambsong's mantra; it was clearly only an endorsement of the baptism ritual approximating the death and resurrection of Christ. As their son's baptism approaches, Vinette swallows her fear and teaches him how to cheat. After all, ritual drowning can't always end with revival, and she only has one son.

Then, she loses him anyway.

With only a dysfunctional family left outside of Lambsong, Vinette must restrain her grief so as not to shake members' faith and earn herself a shunning. But a sympathetic overture by Nora, the precocious daughter of the newest member, unsettles her careful facade. For a single moment, Vinette doesn't feel as if suspended under the cold weight of the entire lake that drowned her son. 

But it can't last. Vinette's clearly not the only one with doubts. Cary doesn't want her daughter close to the tragedy or Lambsong practices at all.

Vinette must contend with a suspicious death case for her son, while heralding night meetings to settle fearful members and a growing allegiance to Cary and Nora that spikes her anxiety as Nora nears readiness for baptism and Vinette husband's intentions for Cary become clear. If she's going to protect them, Vinette'll have to betray her husband and maybe even herself.

Nora never wanted to leave the rundown city apartment she shared with her mother. Cary's phone number might change every few months, but their apartment number stays the same. Her father would remember it if he ever came back for her. But how would he ever know to look in some middle-of-nowhere beach house?

Lambsong doesn't even offer the quiet better life Cary had promised her daughter anyway. The first ritual Nora witnesses ends in the death of a boy only a few years older than her. But as Nora grows closer to both Vinette and Ezra, the boy who lived on the day that darkened everything, Nora's wariness grows cloudier. Ezra, and the practices and rituals he engages in, pull Nora into the Lambsong orbit, rapidly pulling through the ranks in a devotion she doesn't know whether belongs to the boy or the commune or some belief she can overcome her own depth of guilt and find forgiveness for the mistakes that haunt her. 

But to integrate fully into Lambsong and be washed clean of her sins, Nora needs to expose the non-believers and their attempt at escape, no matter who it hurts.

*inspired by @/kjscottwrites' post here

[workingforitallthetime]

drawn arrows unseen

part 12 / previous installments/tags

That spring, Mason follows U18 worlds closer than he usually would. He holds the time difference between Ontario and Germany in his head. He texts Connor after games. He reads between the lines of every TSN article, twitching every time somebody calls Adam Fantilli a man among boys, the same thing they always say about Mason. Are he and Connor hanging out? Can Adam pick up his scent?

He wants Connor to win. But he hates that Connor’s winning without him, wearing the jersey without him, racking up his own Ws separate from his and Mason’s perfect 9-0 record together. When Canada loses in the quarterfinals, Mason feels a little patriotic indignation, but mostly relief that it’s over.

After the Memorial Cup, Mason’s agent takes him to dinner, asks him about whether he wants to suit up for Canada at the rescheduled world juniors in August.

“Most guys with a shot at the NHL next season are skipping it.” Patrick bisects the asparagus stalks on his plate with one smooth cut of his steak knife. “Guenther, Power.” He forks up an asparagus tip. “Even Wright.” He looks at Mason with caution on his face. “The timing is…”

“I’m going.” Mason cuts him off. It pops out of his mouth on instinct, so fast it surprises him.

“You played all the way through June this year.” Patrick rests his knife carefully on the edge of his plate. “Have you thought about…”

“I’m going.” He can still feel the bruises from the Mem Cup, the twinge in his knee, the strain in his shoulder. He’s got, what, three weeks? Maybe four? He’ll heal. Fuck an offseason.

“I can talk to Anaheim about it,” Patrick says, skeptically.

Mason picks up his knife and slices through his steak. “Make it happen.”

Later that evening he starts second-guessing himself. What if he gets hurt? What if it fucks up training camp for him, and Anaheim sends him down again? It’s stupid to play in the tournament just because he doesn’t want Connor to do it without him. It’s stupid to put himself right back in the torturous position he was in December, right back in range of Connor’s scent.

Well, at least he can do something about that.

He waits until an opportune water break and asks Giroux if there’s a doctor around town, someone guys go to for dynamic stuff.

G side-eyes him. “What are you looking for?”

“Suppressant.” Mason tips his head forward and squirts water over the back of his neck.

“You going to Hulk out this year?” Giroux smirks. That’s why guys usually go on suppressants. Too many fights, too many of the wrong kind of PIMs. Too many dumb decisions.

Mason drops his water bottle behind the bench. “Something like that.”

He gets a text with a contact later that afternoon. Mason saves Claude Giroux’s number in his phone with a brick emoji because that’s what he smells like.

The doctor asks what his concerns are and Mason tells her he’s going to world juniors next month.

“Are you due for a rut?” the doctor asks, typing away.

“Could be.” Mason doesn’t even know what due means or how he’d tell. “More like I don’t want anything to trigger it.”

The doctor nods. She explains how the drug works, pointing her pen at the bar graphs on a slick brochure she unfolds. 

“It’s going to dull your reactions, but it won’t have much effect on your dynamic traits. Nobody with a dynamic is going to mistake you for a beta.” The doctor half-laughs, like it’s an absurd possibility to begin with. “There are some topical products that can help if you’re concerned about masking your scent, but they’re not subtle. Should we talk about that?”

“Nope.” Mason’s not worried about that. Connor can’t smell him. 

The doctor circles various chunks of text on the brochure, asking him about shots and pills and implants. “Gimme the shot,” Mason says immediately, rolling up his sleeve. No evidence, no pills on the counter of their hotel bathroom.His shoulder throbs as the doctor slowly injects the suppressant into his muscle. He cherishes the discomfort. It feels like a little fuck-you to his body. Think you can control me? Sucker. He’s going to go to world juniors and he’s going to win another seven games with Connor and he’s going to sleep peacefully with the scent of ice and cedar all around him.

(next)

[justicemiscarried]

SHERRY SHERRETT-ROBINSON.

Hey everyone!! Sorry for not posting much recently—school has really been kicking my ass. But I’m back today with a brand-new case of justice miscarried for you. The 1990s saw many great advances: the widespread usage of video games, the World Wide Web, mobile phones and cable television; highly individualistic and, thus, iconic youth culture; third-wave feminism; the curbing of HIV. But in Ontario, the forensic science and criminal justice systems were long overdue for a rude awakening…

:･ﾟ☆✧ SUMMARY

Sherry Sherrett-Robinson was arrested and charged with the murder of her four-month-old son, Joshua, on March 27, 1996. A little over three months earlier, Sherrett-Robinson had found her son dead in his playpen. Even though she initially disavowed any involvement in his death, the director of the Ontario Pediatric Forensic Pathology Unit at the time took the stand as the Crown’s star witness, saying that Sherrett-Robinson had smothered her son to death. Sherrett-Robinson later changed her plea, pleading guilty for infanticide. She was convicted on June 2, 1999. Straightforward, right? But maybe not… Before you read any further, ask yourself: What could possibly go wrong? What could possibly complicate such an open-and-shut case as this?

:･ﾟ☆✧ SO, WHAT WENT WRONG?

Particularly astute readers may have used the location & time of this case to correctly deduce that the “star witness” whose “medical opinion” formed the central pillar of the Crown’s case against Sherrett-Robinson was the now infamous Charles Smith. Now, if you are anything like me, the very name of Charles Smith probably causes you to recoil in disgust. That’s because the man was a FRAUD! The very fraudiest of frauds!

Although he was appointed the director of the Ontario Pediatric Forensic Pathology Unit in 1992 and was viewed as a foremost expert, Smith has no formal training in forensic pathology and no certification. Despite this, he continued to be consulted in even the most difficult criminally suspicious pediatric deaths. Below are the claims that Charles Smith made during Sherrett-Robinson’s case, followed by what actually happened:

He said there was swelling of the brain; but actually, formal review found no evidence of this.

He said there was hemorrhaging of the neck tissues; but actually, formal review found that these were caused by Smith himself during the autopsy.

He said that there was a skull fracture; but actually, the review found that this was a normal developing cranial suture.

If these things had been known, Sherrett-Robinson never would have been convicted, prosecuted, or even charged and arrested to begin with.

As a forensic biology student, I also have to note that since the time of this case several reviews have investigated topics of sudden infant deaths, infanticide, and smothering of children while they sleep, and my perusal of this literature only further cements my confidence that Charles Smith was totally out of his depth with the testimony he gave at Sherrett-Robinson’s trial. Even if all the facts upon which he’d based his testimony were true, none of them would have provided compelling evidence that Sherrett-Robinson smothered her child.

One paper found that there are no significant physical indications—like contusions, abrasions, or hemorrhaging—that could differentiate an intentional smothering from an unintentional smothering, so Smith had to go beyond what he could reasonably provide as a professional opinion if he claimed that injury interpretation lent him confidence that Sherrett-Robinson intentionally smothered her son.

Another paper showed that the number of sudden infant deaths that are actually homicides is significantly less than 10%, and that—while it is indisputable that some carers of children can intentionally harm their wards—overestimates of the true rates of homicide are based on uncontrolled, circumstantial, anecdotal, and indirect evidence. This also displays the importance of dispelling noble cause bias and adhering to the scientific method by seeking to disprove a null hypothesis, rather than by trying to prove an alternative hypothesis.

If I, a second-year student, can do a cursory search and find these things, Charles Smith surely could have surveyed the relevant literature at the time and come to the same conclusion. In fact, Charles Smith would have had a legal and ethical obligation to commit himself to continued professional development and revision of his methods. This is required for the level of competence that forensic scientists are expected to display. The trust of an expert is deferral to their authority, so an expert must both be competent and accurately represent their competence. Smith was both incompetent and inaccurately represented his competence.

Later, inquiries into Smith’s failings found that in cases such as and including Sherrett-Robinson’s, Charles Smith repeatedly refused to acknowledge the limits of his expertise or any controversy regarding his evidence, overstated his knowledge, criticized other professionals, reported his personal experience as evidence, and failed to adequately prepare for court, among other ethical issues. He also proclaimed that he had “a thing against people who hurt children,” thus falling short of the standard of neutrality required of him as an expert witness. Sherrett-Robinson, in his mind, was someone who could have hurt a child—and he was out to prove that she did.

Of course, the Court also failed Sherry Sherrett-Robinson by accepting Charles Smith’s evidence on no other basis than the fact that it was "GiVeN bY cHaRLeS sMiTh." As the trier of fact, a judge or juror has the obligation to critically examine why someone is considered an expert, what their field of expertise is, whether their findings can be expressed in a way both precise and easy to understand, and what the limitations of their investigation were. This qualification of the expert’s credentials should be repeated in every case, not just taken for granted because of the expert’s reputation precedes them. Instead, Smith's reputation for excellence allowed him to send numbers of innocent people to jail due to a general lack of oversight and accountability.

Smith’s involvement and the Court’s allowance of his involvement in this case weren’t the only ethical issues, though—let’s talk about the plea deal a little. That’s right—again, attentive readers may note that although Sherrett-Robinson was charged with murder, she pled guilty for—and was convicted of—infanticide. What’s the difference? Well, according to the Criminal Code of Canada, infanticide is when a woman causes the death of her newborn child by willful action or willful omission as a result of the effect of or lack of recovery from childbirth or lactation—and it is a much lesser offence than murder. So, before her trial began, the Crown prosecutor offered Sherrett-Robinson a deal: if she agreed to not argue against the Crown’s allegation that she had not smothered Joshua, the Crown would withdraw the murder charge against her and proceed with a charge of infanticide instead. Now, if she were found guilty of infanticide, Sherrett-Robinson’s sentence would be much lighter than if she were found guilty of murder. Intimidated by Charles Smith’s luminosity and by the weight of the crime she had been charged with—and with the advice of her lawyer, who convinced her that the likelihood of persuading the court to believe her word over Smith’s was low—Sherrett-Robinson accepted the deal. She was imprisoned for a year.

The overarching ethical issue in Sherry Sherrett-Robinson’s case can be boiled down into two words: “confirmation” and “bias,” in that order. Confirmation bias is one of the most deadly weapons against forensic science and against science in general. That's why, on a personal level, scientists strive to analyze cases from an objective perspective instead of immediately accepting the answer that seems easiest or aligns most with the answer we want. It's not hard to see that Charles Smith failed Sherry Sherrett-Robinson. But the deadliness of confirmation bias is also why, on a systemic level, protocols are supposed to be in place to mitigate confirmation bias and prevent the corruption of evidence. By failing to have such protocols in place, the law, science, and the criminal justice system all failed Sherry Sherrett-Robinson.

:･ﾟ☆✧ RESOLUTION

Six years after her conviction, Sherrett-Robinson learned about the Goudge Inquiry, or the Inquiry into pediatric forensic pathology in Ontario, which systematically reviewed and assessed the way pediatric forensic pathology was practiced and overseen in Ontario between 1981 and 2001, especially under Charles Smith. She submitted an application for her case to be formally reviewed, and the subsequent review found that the likely cause of Joshua’s death was accidental asphyxiation, not being smothered to death.

The Court also found that the Court itself failed Sherrett-Robinson by not detecting the faults in Charles Smith’s testimony and methods. Sherrett-Robinson was exonerated by the Ontario Court of Appeal on December 7, 2009, with the Court concluding that she suffered a “profoundly regrettable” miscarriage of justice “due to flaws in pathological evidence”. Smith was stripped of his medical license in 2011.

The Goudge Inquiry was a turning point for the practice of forensic pathology, and especially pediatric forensic pathology, in Ontario. It made 148 recommendations, which can be grouped into roughly 5 groups:

Recommendations 1-11 deal with professionalizing and rebuilding Pediatric Forensic Pathology in Ontario through providing education, training, and certification for pathologists, providing adequate funding for forensic pathologists, and dealing with the shortage of forensic pathologists, among other recommendations.

Recommendations 12-60 deal with the effective organization & oversight of Forensic Pathology in Ontario by creating policies regarding the filing of concerns by hospital pathologists, establishing protocols for criminally suspicious pediatric deaths, and establishing a registry of trained forensic pathologists, among other recommendations.

Recommendations 61-67 deal with transparency and improving the public complaints process.

Recommendations 84-100 deal with effective communication between forensic scientists and the criminal justice system by ensuring that any technical knowledge is understood by laypersons, the scopes & limits of evidence and areas of controversy are clearly communicated, etc.

Recommendations 141-148 deal with pediatric forensic pathology and potential wrongful convictions, affirming that any pathology opinion that can be said to be unreasonable in light of current understanding should be reviewed.

The effects that the Inquiry into Pediatric Forensic Pathology have had on the practice of forensic pathology in Ontario have been examined, and it’s been found that the Inquiry resulted in drastic improvements to the practice of forensic pathology. This bodes an optimistic future for forensic science at a time when some may be discouraged into completely giving up hope in its reliability. Forensic pathology, and forensic science as a whole, has massive potential as a reliable and necessary field if—and only if—it scrupulously adheres to the principles of the scientific method. Forensic scientists must hold themselves to a high standard of professional behaviour to uphold the integrity of the field, and it's important to meticulously study the mistakes of other scientists and identify exactly where they went wrong to prevent ourselves from repeating those mistakes in the future (hey, that's exactly what this blog is all about!).