#the grandpa in question is Gertrude
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sulumuns-dootah · 1 month ago
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Demon grandma OC :D
(For those who missed it, she came to me while I was writing this :D)
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𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐞: Ergath (While posing as a human: Gertrude) 𝐀𝐠𝐞: A gentleman doesn't ask and lady doesn't tell ;) 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐧: Abaddon
𝐈𝐝𝐢𝐨𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐲: Odaxelagnia, Pyrophilia & Symphorophilia
Ergath is one one the eldest demons in the entirety of Hell. She's so old, she even remembers when Lucifer was the only seraphim.
During her younger days, she was enamoured with humans, just like Asmodeus. She was the typical nightlife party girl with a streak of chaos personified. Through her life, she's been with so many people, she could've possibly fucked multiple generations from one family over time. (I mean, how would they know? Grandpa ain't telling you about the hot chick he had one night stand with, does he?)
Wherever she goes, everybody knows her as Grandma Egath and even the kings acknowledge her. Now that she's over it all and retired, she travels over the whole Hell with her husband, Zolgarun, and their surrogate child - opossum named Rama, following Zolgarun's oddjobs because due to his upbringing he's unable to sit still.
𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐇𝐂'𝐬:
Her and Lucifer regularly get together for a tea
Ergath handles all the demon's questions and problems with feelings/love/relationship
She's one of the rare demons who didn't meet Solomon, because she was on Earth, getting busy
Don't get her wrong - she'll still fuck you up if you mess with her
She calls MC young one/youngling
You can ask her to teach you anything and she'll gladly do that
𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐄𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐡
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(Read more to find out about Zolgarun ^^)
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𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐞: Zolgarun (While posing as a human: Arthur) 𝐀𝐠𝐞: Eh, am too old to count... 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐧: Niflheim
𝐈𝐝𝐢𝐨𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐲: Capnolagnia, Autohemofetishism & Erotophonophilia
One of Beleth's good friends and was one of his highest in command before he retired - that spot is still held in case he changes his mind.
Used to be a really big manwhore but once he met Ergath, that all ended. Not even some demons in Abaddon were able to take him, but she did. So one night, after getting the best head of his life from her, he decided he has to wife her up.
At first he comes off as cold and heartless, but he's actually like that fun grandpa that spoils you and teaches you stuff he probably shouldn't.
𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐇𝐂'𝐬:
He still does spend time with the Niflheim nobles, but not so much anymore
Him and Beleth met right after he left heaven. Zolgarun was about to kill him, when they bonded over their shared enjoyment of cigarettes
He's really popular with the Red Lump family for his gentle nature with small things
Calls MC kiddo/lil guy or gal
𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐙𝐨𝐥𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐮𝐧
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old Ergath picrew young ergath picrew young zolgarun picrew
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mllemaenad · 1 year ago
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The Magnus Protocol: Taking Notes
Okay, well, it sounds very much as though "Freddy" is tattling on Sam. Might not be, of course: once you've assigned a personality to something you head straight down the path of attributing meaning and motive to all its actions. And in the case of Freddy, there might be no intelligence behind it, one intelligence with many voices behind it, or many intelligences with potentially competing motives behind it. Depending on which of those it is, you get a different picture of why it does what it does.
It alerts Alice that Sam has been poking around "The Magnus Protocol". It shouldn't have alerted Alice; it sounds as though Colin was the intended recipient, although it would make sense for it to go to Lena as well. It suggests that it did not want official action taken against him for looking – whatever that might mean – but that it did want someone to know what he was doing.
It's fairly easy to predict that Alice, upon receiving such an alert, will tell Sam to knock it off but not actually take any action against him. The recording Gwen hears at the end of the episode suggests (although does not confirm) that things can in fact go very, very wrong in this job – so this may constitute a protective gesture. On the other hand, if the greatest risk were to just be getting fired, well then that might be for the best.
It's a weird alert, though.
Alice I just received a security notification. Sam About me? Alice Someone was trying to access restricted files. And my money is on you. – The Magnus Protocol: Taking Notes
What do you mean, "someone" is trying to access restricted files? No user ID? Or username? Or even a device ID? What the hell sort of security alert is that? If you were a manager, and you received that, you'd have to go on a witch hunt. Depending on how you look at it, it's either a terrible alert tailored to produce a stressful working experience ... or a whisper that might be meaningful to Alice, and no one else.
The arrival of the third voice, "Augustus" is interesting because he is a complete unknown. To be clear, I'm aware that the prevailing theory is that this is Jonah Magnus. I'm not especially here to dispute that; not at the moment. The man's first name starts with a "J", which fits nicely with ".jmj error" and, well, the name Magnus is right there in the title, which suggests it's at least to some degree relevant. It's as good a theory as any, and while you can absolutely throw out other possible names there's not enough detail yet to prove anything.
But what is interesting is the implication if that is Jonah Magnus. If the voices originated in this world then they might be anybody, of course. No way to tell. But if they came from another world, it suggests that something more than just voices came through. Because, to my knowledge, that voice was never recorded.
It makes sense that you'd hear John's voice leaking between worlds – he's on virtually all the tapes. It makes reasonable sense that you'd hear Martin's: he was on quite a lot. You might also expect "Elias Bouchard", or Basira or Tim or even Gertrude – because if it's just voices then whether they're alive or dead or even confirmed still hanging about in another dimension shouldn't matter. But if it is Magnus, then something came through that wasn't recorded: the voice of an earlier body, or even his original one. Some internal sense of "this is how I sound" that differs from anything recorded on the tapes.
And if it isn't him? Well, all of the above still applies, with the added question of "Who is it, then?"
If it is him – and I will speak as such for now because there's not yet enough thread to follow if it isn't – then his story choice is interesting.
Alice Dear grandpa Augustus does always tell such lovely stories. – The Magnus Protocol: Taking Notes
Alice implies that Augustus's stories are somehow worse than Norris's and Chester's – she didn't remark on any of theirs in quite the same way, except to call Norris's first one "tame". I don't know what metric she's using: they all seem pretty ghoulish. But this story does address a different perspective.
It's a tale of resentment and entitlement. Of someone who was special, but not quite special enough for his own liking – and who fed his soul to something monstrous to increase his own standing. His father seems to have a seat in the House of Lords, and all the wealth and standing that would accompany that position. The letter writer, however, is a bastard: an acknowledged bastard, apparently, whose father has provided for him, but nevertheless a bastard set apart from the legitimate children of the household.
He's also very concerned that people aren't appreciating his talents.
Augustus/Violinist My violin tutor, one Oliver Bardwell by name, nursed a conviction that this honor was purely the fruit of his own skills as an instructor, rather than a product of my talent and endeavor. ... My course was set for Mannheim, a destination where I felt a youthful certainty that my brilliance would at last be acknowledged. – The Magnus Protocol: Taking Notes
This fits very well with Jonah Magnus, who very much played second fiddle, so to speak, in the story that had his name on it. On a meta level: he was the villain of the piece, the one who pretty well had to fall and fail in order for the narrative to reach its conclusion. But even in-universe it's highlighted that he's just ... not that special:
Archivist Right. When I said that I would ‘replace’ Jonah in there, that’s not– That place, the centre of The Eye, i-it’s… It wasn’t made for him. That’s why he’s like that, it’s too much, it’s overwhelmed him, his whole being, just destroyed. Martin Oh yeah? But let me guess, it was made for you? Archivist Yes. – The Magnus Archives: Parting
It's got to be galling: Magnus built an institute and served his god for literal centuries, and eventually remade the world under its power. But does the Eye want him? No, no it does not. It wants the grumpy archivist who does not want to be here at all, and who is in fact actively plotting to kill it. Jonah Magnus is the Eye's acknowledged, but displaced, bastard son.
It's also implied that a sense of ... hm ... aristocratic entitlement, let's say, played a part in the selection of his hosts:
Archivist Elias’ stomach tightened at the memory, the fierce judgement in his father’s eyes. Even laid out in a casket, it was as if he had looked at Elias with disdain. What should he say? That he had no idea why he wanted this job? That he was all alone in the world, no friends, no family, nothing but the deep certainty that he deserved better. That he was destined to be important. That it was in his blood. – The Magnus Archives: A Stern Look
And it is hard not to notice, at this point, that Augustus picked Gwen to hear this tale.
The violinist is "gifted" an instrument by a dubious merchant type reminiscent of Mikaele Salesa (the man was right – the peddler of magical artefacts is indeed a folktale staple), and it did make him a bit more special ... but never, ever quite special enough:
Augustus/Violinist And yet, while admiration rained down upon me, never was I elevated beyond the confines of my origins. The rarefied world of my noble patrons was closed to me. Modest riches adorned me, some small fame clung to my name, but never was I truly allowed to escape the position of my birth. – The Magnus Protocol: Taking Notes
It is also very much the story of a man who learned how to hurt other people for his own gain:
Augustus/Violinist It was not simple philanthropy that led to my taking on positions of tutelage in those bustling cities where I plied my trade, providing a musical education to the poor and the easily forgotten, asking nothing in return. Nothing except the occasional student who would not be missed. – The Magnus Protocol: Taking Notes
That's almost exactly how Magnus operated: employing people who would not be missed and then using them up to serve his own ends. Like Magnus, the violinist feeds people to his malevolent god.
And, not least, there are the sinister implications of the letter itself. The recipient is a "nephew", meaning he is almost certainly the child of one of the violinist's legitimate half-siblings: people he dismisses as "useless". He was not close with the nephew, so his inheritance may be something of a surprise.
Which leads to this:
Augustus/Violinist There has been a great deal of rain here this last fortnight, which has been strangely pleasing to my maudlin mood, and has brought with it some nostalgia for that dreary summer you took residence with me. I flatter myself to think that I might have imprinted upon you some part of myself in that time together, and perhaps in this way I seek to keep hold of my prized violin still. – The Magnus Protocol: Taking Notes
Right. So, yeah, the kid is definitely screwed. For all we know, the violinist lives still.
If Norris's stories are of loss and regret, and Chester's could be called a warning, Augustus's is both an enticement and a trap.
Go on. Play the cursed violin. Feed it blood. What could possibly go wrong?
But you have to wonder, then: why would Magnus tell a story that so neatly reflects what an awful person he was?
We also establish, outside the main story, that Gwen is definitely the kind of person to open weird attachments in her work email. When the OIAR gets hit with a ransomware attack, we'll all know who to blame.
It's hard to state anything definitive about what she heard. I mean – yes, it sounds bad, but, well, Gertrude Robinson once dismembered a man and threw him down a cursed pit. I'm not going to sit here and try to claim Gertrude was nice, but she was very much on the side of the world not ending. What any of this means all hinges on who the guy Lena was talking to was.
And, of course, this one is littered with world-building notes to put aside for later: "Starkwall", "The San Pedro Square Massacre", "The Protocol". Little you can do with any of them immediately.
But ... just for a thought exercise, say it is Jonah Magnus talking.
A protocol can be a lot of things. It may be rules to be followed in a formal occasion. It may be instructions in the event of an emergency. And there are also network protocols, which are about the transfer of information. I suspect in this case it has a double meaning, as Archives did. So it is something practical ... and also something else.
The word is then uttered for the first time in the episode where Magnus first speaks. It is immediately followed by a tale in which a man transfers an instrument – and I think more importantly the music that instrument produced – to someone new, and in doing so hopes to transfer some or all of himself.
The thing is. I'm not going to call Magnus's master plan "bloody stupid" but ... well, let's just say it had some obvious holes. I mean, really. He spent literal years specifically torturing this one guy, then used him very much against his will to end the world, and then just ... let him wander around, being annoyed about that. Obviously John had some moral qualms about the whole apocalypse situation, but even had he not – pretty well anybody would probably put "ruin Jonah's day" quite near the top of their to do list, under the circumstances.
It would hardly take a genius to foresee some retaliation. And self preservation is Magnus's whole deal. It's the reason he gives for destroying the world:
Archivist/Jonah Magnus I began to worry that if one of them successfully attempted their ritual, then I would be as much a victim as any, trapped in the nightmare landscape of a twisted world. At first, I attempted prevention, but the cause seemed hopeless. The only way to ensure I did not suffer the tribulations of what I believed to be an inevitable transformation was to bring it about myself. So what began as an experiment soon became a race. Beyond that, I was getting older, and mortality began to weigh more heavily on my mind. How much in this world is done because we fear death, the last and greatest terror? – The Magnus Archives: The Eye Opens
The apocalypse is just him getting everyone else before they could get him. And I have wondered, a bit, about Magnus's attitude in Last Words:
Archivist It’s over. Jonah/Elias Is it? [sigh] Yes. Yes, I suppose it must be. [TIRED EXHALATION] Where’s Martin? I rather thought he’d be the one to do the deed. … [METALLIC CLINK] Ah, I see. Going it alone, are we? Probably for the best. Empathy only holds you back in the end. Archivist You’ve failed. Jonah/Elias Have I? Archivist Immortality. It’s impossible. Even without me, nothing escapes entropy. Not forever. Not even fear. Jonah/Elias Yes… Pity. I suppose I always knew that, deep down. But it was wonderful while it lasted. I’ve seen more than I could have lived in a thousand lifetimes, and every moment was so – – The Magnus Archives: Last Words
That's all very odd, really. He thought Martin would kill him? In fact, he once bet quite heavily that Martin would not kill him. Of course, he hadn't ruined the whole world at that point, which is a thing that might well adjust a man's attitude to murder. So he thought Martin would come here, and kill him?
He was not especially surprised to see John standing over him with a knife. He seemed mostly bemused at the idea that he had failed, although he did agree that this thing, in which he bathed in the misery of others, was indeed over. There was some begging and screaming, of course, but he put up very little resistance – even though this was a straightforward physical assault. None of John's overwhelming psychic powers here, just a man who never showed much inclination toward violence taking his very first stab, so to speak, at knifing someone to death.
It seems peculiar, that a man who would do literally anything to stay alive – who betrayed his friends, who stole the lives of others, who doomed the whole world – would not have a plan in place to escape the very obvious enemy who was almost certainly going to come after him.
Unless, of course, he did have a plan. And we're listening to it.
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zephyruswrites536 · 1 year ago
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Short short short fic:
The old men avatar trying to get anything done in pairs/groups~!warning cursing!
Jonah: Hey… Peter could you get me some tea?
Peter: No, you haven’t won a bet
Jonah*Had just been trying to relax after Brutal pipe murder*: OH FOR FUCKS SAKE
-
Peter: Simon, I really don’t want to have to do the institutes party, can you host it?
Simon(drinking a blue coffee): No, you haven’t won a bet against me to allow that-
Peter(cringing inside before phasing to the prison): Elias- if I let you out this one time..:
Jonah(laying down on the metal bench looking at his nails): Fuck off, I’m not hosting an institute party just because your sorry ass is Asocial
-
Simon: So, Jonah… I was thinking- what if I tried making one of your employees-
Jonah(putting his pointer finger up): I’m going to stop you right there and say you don’t have a win on me.
-
Continuation of Peter trying to get somebody to host the party~
Peter: Rayner… could you possibly-
Maxwell: Peter. I Will say this one time and one time only, I do not associate with the institute outside of Jonah- and I do not place bets like you dumb fucks.
Peter(giving his best 😀 smile): Thank you for the insight, Rayner.
-
Jonah: Simon, is it true you only really have two avatars under the vast?
Simon(trying to slip away): Jonah, you know I do not answer questions for the watcher.
Jonah(smirking): ah, well, yes. I know that. But I was just wondering if you’d like to tell me. Not the watcher.
Simon(stopping his escape to give the 😃 smile): You know Jonah- you are not the least bit as clever as you try to come off as… maybe a few more centuries will get you there.
Jonah(grasping at straws): Simon… Please.
Simon: How about a bet?
Jonah(sighing-screaming internally): On what exactly, Simon?
Simon(tapping his cane against the ground as he thinks): How about… how much time it will take for Peter to come how with the idea that he doesn’t have to do the institute party?
Jonah(nodding): Sounds fair… How long do you think?
Simon: About a week.
Jonah(laughing): We’ll see about that…
Simon(realizing he’s just made the dumbest bet of his life with the best manipulator he knows): Oh- wait- no- Jonah come back!
-
Everyone respectively drinking their coffee- Simon’s blue one, Peter’s black coffee(with one pump of vanilla and nothing else), Jonah’s Carmel macchiato, and Maxwell’s seasonal black as night coffee-
Maxwell: So- Jonah- how are things with the new Archivist?
Jonah(seeming quizzical): Since when do you- ah- … How’s your little minuscule and ultimately unsuccessful black hole doing?
Maxwell(suddenly angry): Oh well since you asked so kindly-
Simon(leaning over to talk to Peter while Jonah and Maxwell bicker): When you do think Maxwell will first bring up your great great great great grandpa?
Peter(going rigid at the thought of Mordechai): I’m not making a stupid bet with you, Simon.
Simon(tutting, before giving the 😃 smile): Seems I was right anyways.
Maxwell(having set down his coffee minutes ago): Are you going to fuck them like you fuck every avatar and worker in your inner circle?
Jonah(giving a 😀 but one eye-twitching smile): Edmund, do you want to visit the end? Or do you want me to squeeze the information out of you like twisting out a soaked necktie?
-
Annabelle(got invited while Elias was in prison): This seems like an awfully boring event.
Maxwell(sitting as far back in his seat as possible sipping his black coffee that goes cold every time and deadpan staring at her like she’s committed a capital offense): It’s actually quite eventful when Jonah is here.
Simon (reading the same paper that Gertrude had posted to stop Peter’s ritual in physical format as he does every-time the meet for coffee): Why- it is peculiar that you are acting so upset now that Jonah is gone- or is that your hormones from the new body?
Maxwell(looking like a goth but not the good kind- the 12 y/o kind): Oh shut up!
-
Simon(on his way over to the institute but stopping at the prison to say hi): Don’t you look ravishing.
Jonah, bored to death, sitting upside down for the first time in months): Fuck off. What do you want?
Simon(smirking and looking him over before sighing): We both know that Peter is going to fail.
Jonah(nodding and sitting correctly): Yes.
Simon: But we don’t know how badly he’ll fail.
Jonah(stopping for a second): What are you suggesting?
Simon(giving a cheery laugh): I suggest the good captain will die.
Jonah(thinking it over before nodding and leaning back): Most likely.
Simon: The question is when?
Jonah: Placing a bet, are we?
Simon(nodding like a kid on Cotten candy): Exactly, I estimate after the worlds changed.
Jonah(shaking his head): You’re saying he’d give himself over to the end?
Simon: Precisely.
Jonah: Well- I’m sure you’re wrong and Jon will kill him, good luck then.
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vickozone · 1 year ago
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The Magnus Archives
-S4 Notes-
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AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
SOMETHING ABOUT FANART GOES HERE I THINK
<- previous notes
next notes ->
Handwriting translated below:
#121 Oliver. He’s dead and JON! YOU’RE OKAY!
#122 zombies and Jon’s first instinct from waking up from a 6 month coma is to read a statement. Icon.
#123 He just got back and Melanie wants to kill him and something is up with Martin. Also, The Web, I suppose. Coding?
#124 More Simon. What a guy. Also, Jon is… very concerned for Martin…
#125 The Slaughter is back and Melanie! CALM DOWN! MY HEADPHONES ARE ON LIFE SUPPORT AS IT IS!
#126 The Spiral clarity + Martin is being manipulated (SHE STABBED HIM!?)
#127 Another letter to Jonah. AND ELIAS IS JUST CHILLIN IN PRISON. GO OFF, KING!
#128 Breekon is nothing without Hope. The institute and ooo! Jon eye powers!
#129 Guy drowned in grandpa’s house and JON NEEDS AN ANCHOR! Also, very homosexual interaction.
#130 Meat ritual and JON! NO, SELF HARM IS BAD! YOU BETTER NOT DO WHAT I THINK YOU’RE IMPLYING!
#131 AAAA! AAAA! OH. OH NO. Jared is the Boneturner and Helen is an absolute queen <3
#132 Jon saves Daisy!! Yay! She is also The Hunt, but, whatever. The tapes drew him back…
#133 The Hunt ritual, and Basira… has feelingsss. The Hunt is about the chase, not the kill.
#134 The Extinction!? NO. Also Lukas is the worst. Hate that guy.
#135 “Have I ever told you how much I hate the sun?” -Manuela Lol, The Dark, The Vast, and The Lonely funded the space expedition.
#136 Annabelle! Creepy celeb puppet. And Daisy telling Jon he’s not responsible for everything gives hope. Yes! Therapy!
#137 The Slaughter ritual & Gertrude was fond of Gerry :( The Watcher’s Crown??
#138 “And then the sky blinked.” Elias is literally the ‘no need to thank me’ meme and Jonah and Smirke knew about the 14 fears and then he dies or smthn
#139 The life and crimes of Agnes. Jon MAYBE saw Peter’s plan and- PRAISE THE LORD, JON LIKES MARTIN!!
#140 Stupid Maxwell. Also, Santa is working working with the Devine Host (/j) & we’re going on a trip! :D
#141 Salesa statement from boat guy. Oh, Jon, I see why Martin has a crush on you now. 10/10 voice acting on everyone’s part.
#142 JEEZ, JON! You gave this poor woman literal trauma! Goodness…
#143 oh, it’s Manuela! Jon looked AT the darkness and HELEN IS A SAVIOR!
#144 MARTIN! We do NOT talk to people like that! Especially Daisy! This isn’t you! The Extinction is real, I guess, but, come on! Not cool.
#145 Gertrude is COLD. Dude’s head is somewhere in the institute- uh-
#146 5 people? Goodness, Jon. He can’t control it though, can he? Helen got Marcus and Basira is off to meet with Annabelle friggin Cane.
#147 Okay. No, he can control it. I love Anna. I also got Nikola flashbacks. Oh boy.
#148 Not 5 seconds in and Elias gets assaulted. Jon is worried for Martin and he read a statement about The Eye. A.
#149 Concrete Jungle. Oh and Martin is using Lonely powers. Greaaat.
#150 Homophobic endless houses and Melanie really said “nuh uh” to her job
#151 Simon is my new husband. Uhhh. He answered Martin’s questions, yada yada, he has Lonely powers
#152 More of The Buried. Jon and Helen chat more about avatar crap.
#153 Another odd desolation flesh cult, also Trevor and chic is here and he is HUNGRY
#154 Gerry’s dead dad gives a statement. J + M both F bomb, very gay, eye gouging is the only way out. (“It’s pretty drastic.” “What you gotta gouge your eyes out or something?” “…” “…” “…” “Fuck off.” <- funniest conversation in the whole series)
#155 Guy kills others to keep himself alive + MEL IS REMOVING HER EYES- OKAY-
#156 More extinction about an abandoned park and I am very scared for Martin
#157 another extinction- OMG MEL AND GEORGIE! Did… Helen stab Jon?
#158 SO MUCH. Martin played Lukas, Daisy is feral, ELIAS IS JONAH, Not!Sasha is loose, disaster duo is here, Martin is stuck in Lonely, Gertrude wanted ‘Elias’ to kill her. WHAT.
#159 Peter shares his story, is evaporated. “I see you, Jon…”
#160
Look at the sky, Martin. It’s looking back.
I OPEN THE DOOR!
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pagan-stitches · 2 years ago
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Hagging Out: Veneration
Great-Grandma Hazel has been on my mind a lot this Thanksgiving weekend.  We used her china at Mom’s dinner and while tracking down the pattern to answer a question from @hrusewif I started looking for an old photo of my great grandparent’s wedding and stumbled on her recipe for poppy seed torte.  So I decided that since she seemed to be reaching out to me I’d spend some quality time with Great-Gran.  I went ahead and made the poppy seed torte and after lighting a candle and some incense I moved into the other room and had a cozy, informal sit down with her over a cup of tea (this time for real the very last teaspoonful of Russian caravan, I actually threw the packaging away this morning) in one of her old china cups (pattern: Homer Laughlin “ferndale”), and a slice of the torte.
Transcript from an article I wrote over a decade ago:
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John Marlow and Hazel Caldie Marlow on their Wedding Day in 1912
After I got off the phone with Mom and then my maternal grandmother ("Granny") this Mother's Day morning, I was thinking about food--as you know I often do. Go figure! Several years ago I was reading a book about ethnic food traditions in America and the foods we inherit through our mothers. I remember quizzing Mom and Granny to death on the foods that they both grew up on. I have tons of notes somewhere that I took, probably buried with my genealogy stuff that is a come and go hobby, but some of the things I remember them talking about was the huge gardens (Granny was raising twelve kids on Grandpa's small salary) and all the potatoes down in the cellar, about night-time smelt runs, and kolaches, the Friday fish fries at Grandpa Thibodeau's ice cream parlour, and my mom's paternal Grandma Hazel Marlow's frosting--which was evidently something amazing.
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Great-Grandpa Thibodeau's ice cream parlour (in an earlier incarnation as a "confectionary store") in Ashland, WI. Pictured are his brother William and sister Gertrude, circa 1910. My Granny, Lorraine Thibodeau Marlow, grew up in the above apartment.
You may have gathered from the above description that my Mother's family is not from the South! Mom is mostly descended from French Canadians who immigrated to Wisconsin at the turn of the century. Except that my Great-Grandfather married a half Scottish lady (the other half, of course, was Canadian French), Hazel Caldie, whose grandfather Thomas Caldie had hacked their farm out of the wilderness in 1862 near what would become Stiles, Wisconsin.
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The extended Marlow family sometime in the twenties, probably on the farm (I think outside Denmark, Wisconsin). Grandma Hazel Caldie Marlow is circled, one of my great uncles is directly below her, the man above her is my Great-Grandpa John Marlow, and on his lap is another of my great uncles (my Grandpa wasn't born yet). I believe the rather stern looking lady in the top row center is my great-great Grandma Marlow (doesn't she just look like the matriarch of a farm family?), and the graying gentleman with the moustache and white shirt to the left is my great-great Grandpa Marlow.
I never did get the frosting recipe, but Mom managed to track down some of Grandma Hazel's other recipes from my Great Aunt Bev, who still had an old recipe box of Grandma Hazel's. My Aunt Mary requested this recipe, which she had childhood memories of:
Grandma Hazel’s Poppy Seed Torte
Ingredients:
2 cups graham cracker crumbs
3/4 cup brown sugar
1/2 cup butter
1/2 cup poppy seed
1/2 cup sugar
6Tbls. flour
Dash of salt
2 cups milk
3 egg yolks
1t vanilla
3 egg whites
6 TB sugar
Directions:
Mix crumbs sugar & butter. Reserve 1/2 cup for topping.
Mix poppy seed, sugar, flour, salt & 1/2 cup milk to smooth paste.
Scald 1 1/2 cups milk, add the flour mixture slowly.
Boil 5 minutes (turn the heat down if necessary)
Beat egg yolks & vanilla, add slowly to custard white stirring rapidly & cook five more minutes.
Cool.
Put the mixture of crumbs, brown sugar & butter in pyrex pan. Pour custard over. Beat egg whites stiff , add 6Tbls. sugar, beat until thick & holds peaks.
Put over top and sprinkle with crumbs. Bake 15 minutes at 325 degrees.
Like most of the family recipes from Wisconsin, this is not Scottish, or French Candadian, but Eastern European! Which, I always find rather amusing, since it is actually on my Dad's side of the family (Nebraskan pioneers) that I'm descended in part from Moravia (the Tesars, Yuraceks, and Ludvics).  
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One of my favorite pics of my great grandparents--what are they smiling about?
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Great Grandma with one of my mom’s 8 brothers.
End Transcript
Doing research this morning I realized that what we thought was an Eastern European recipe is actually German, however it is very much a regional Midwest, especially Wisconsin, traditional favorite.
I’ve been told I look a lot like my Great-Grandma.  She, my mom, and I are tall ladies and all exactly the same height!
I really enjoyed going down this rabbit hole of memories and spending some time with my Great-Gran.  Thanks for hosting @graveyarddirt​ I know I’m early, but I wanted to get it all down while it was fresh.
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gerrydelano · 3 years ago
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So I just came across your fic and I'm curious, how did you just.. idk.. decide how the effects of replacing Jon with Gerry as Archivist (and also changing how Gertrude died) would manifest? Like do you have mindmap notes?
welcome! i actually answered this forever ago right here! honestly, this response probably needs some updating now that the story itself has grown and changed so much As i continued writing, but! the principle is the same for the very start: 
my first task was figuring out a way to justify gerry taking the archivist position at all when we know for a fact he just wouldn’t. canonly, he said it himself! which means something pretty fucked up would have to happen to result in him even accepting it, much less pursuing it himself. 
so, i set out to reverse engineer one based on what he’d be doing at that time, what might influence the decision (in this case: the protective instinct we know he has, and also Other Deeply Relevant Internal Factors that i dunno if you’ve read yet! so i won’t spoil here), how he actually reacts to it once he’s there, what he does to make himself feel better about it, and how he might push the limits enforced on him from the inside that line up with the core of him that doesn’t just go AWAY because he’s now done something that would be typically seen as out of character. the events change in a butterfly effect after that, based purely on what i think the characters would realistically do with their new situation.
the most important part of it is that they still have to be in character! and so i had to find a way to go with choices that gerry WOULD make with whatever tools and information he was left with, which are things almost entirely determined by gertrude. i actually don’t even think i had her burn mary’s page earlier (like initially planned) but did just rely on her death changing, in conjunction with:
her “contingency plan” (which is explained in full in part 2.3, you said you Just found this so i don’t know if you’ve gotten there! zips lip)
...which was actually only possible because i’d decided to have it so that adelard survived his encounter with amherst! if HE wasn’t around to help her with that plan, it never would have come to fruition and gerry wouldn’t be in the position he’s in here.
so actually wow it comes down to me simply Wanting Adelard To Be Important. you’ve heard of “let’s add one traumatized man to the mix and see how much changes,” now i present you with “add a grandpa you like.”
i didn’t write a lot of that process down because most of my planning is done aloud with ren! we live together and so have many (literal) roundtable discussions about our plot stuff, and it’s more helpful to me to say it aloud than it is to make a flowchart or something. i HAVE notes (a 100 page outline at this point) but it’s pretty outdated in places and not the most coherent. hopefully what i just linked up there is enough to answer your question! thank you for asking :’-)!
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iwishicanbeagoodpianist · 3 years ago
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Crazy Poets Club part 1
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (It's mostly Bucky dealing with his problems and therapy, but there's a bit of romance). There's also a bit of Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers (you know Buck dealing with Steve's absence).
Summary: In one of her therapy sessions, Dr. Rayner recommends Bucky to find a new hobby, at the cultural center (which is open in the evenings, offering an incredible variety of hobbies and activities) Bucky meets some very interesting people and understands that maybe life has moments to live for and to be happy.
Warnings: None for now, but in the future, topics such as anxiety, depression, PTSD, among others, will be discussed.
A/N: I'm not a fanfic writer at all, this story is an original story of mine, I feel that the main character fits very well with Bucky's personality, that's why I decided to adapt it as a fanfic. This could go very well or very badly, we'll have to see. I also apologize in advance because my original story is not written in english, so this is an adaptation and a translation. I will always appreciate corrections and suggestions, just be kind :)
please do not repost my work
Bucky doesn't know which one is worse, the weight of the flyer in his hand, full of vibrant colors, taunting him or the weight of his therapist's gaze waiting for a reaction from him to her latest suggestion. It's time for you to get a hobby James. The words still echoing in the air of the room as, the man in need of a new hobby in question, tries to steady his breathing and his thoughts. Two minutes away from saying one of his typical comments like "beating people unconscious with my metal arm isn't considered a hobby?" but holds back as he looks up and sees Dr. Raynor's eyebrow rise defiantly in anticipation of such a comment. Bucky shuts up just for the pleasure of not giving her the satisfaction of knowing him so well. No one knows me as well as they think they do, no one fully understands what is happening to me.
- "You want me to join a knitting club????" -
- "It's a cultural center James, there's more to it than just knitting, you can find something that allows you to reconnect with reality, your old self, didn't you have any hobbies when you were young, in the 40s?" -
- "killing Nazis?" -
And here we go again, a wry smile from Bucky, an eye roll from the doctor and a whisper that sounds something like "God give me patience because if you give me a bat....." you did it again Buck thinks the one who caused said comment as he mentally pats himself on the back.
- "I understand that your humor is the way you deal with things you don't want to deal with, but this is just a suggestion from me, no one can force you into anything James, things have to come from you" -
But James is already riding the train of cynicism and black humor, which has enough fuel, 100 years of pure spite, to not be easily stopped....
- "...the next step is for me to be put in a nursing home and play Bingo every Wednesday and Saturday with Gertrude and Hans, while we talk about the weather and how our knees hurt because it's going to rain." -
With a sigh of resignation, or relaxation as she saw the time on the clock on the wall and knew that the session had come to an end, Dr. Raynor replied:
- "James, just think about it, our session is over for today". -
Getting up, as he sloppily folds the flyer and tries to bury it in the bottom of his jacket pocket, Bucky decides that today he's going to eat a large pizza with extra pepperoni and cheese crust, from the new pizzeria around the corner from his apartment, because, as the Doc says "no one can make me do anything and things have to come from me, like the fucking dinner I'm going to eat today no matter what", and as he opens the door with a smirking smile he turns to look at Dr. Raynor's face one last time (for this week).
- "well Doc, thanks again for your time, see you next week." -
Sighing, thinking what she did wrong in her old life to get stuck in therapy with what could easily be a 16 year old pubescent boy in the body of a guy who in spirit is over 100 years old but looks like a 30 year old guy living his second mid-life crisis. I guess this is my punishment for being a terrible big sister in my youth. Dr. Raynor replied:
- "see you next week James, please think about the culture center, it's a good place, even I go there sometimes during the week."-
-"wow Doc, I didn't know you liked to knit, and to think that I am the one who is over 100 years old here."-
- "I'm really not going to knit, I'm going to...you know what? Never mind, this is not about me, it's time for you to stop doing this, the world owes you nothing James, none of us are your targets for you to spew your venom filled comments to deal with your problems" over 20 years of career and professionalism thrown away thanks to a grandpa who SHOULD be in a nursing home playing bingo, well done Christina. But his thoughts are cut off by the sound of the door slamming shut. -
- "after I'm done with this patient I'm going to retire and move to Cancun, for good."-
Bucky's only thought as he walks down the office hallway is "well apparently my hobby is draining my therapist's patience, which if I may say so, I'm really good at". He also thinks the new green paint they decided to put on the walls, just last week, is the grossest thing anyone has ever seen, "now it looks like the wall is full of snot and vomit."
"Green conveys peace and tranquility, don't you think James?" says Dr. Raynor in last week's session when he made a comment about the abrupt change in the color of the walls. "Well yes, people will find peace, when they die at the sight of that hideous color."
Let's just say the session did not improve after that comment. "nobody can make a joke anymore because everything is taken badly, what is this twitter????? It's twitter? tuitor? What is that thing called? Well never mind" thought James as he walked out the door while the characteristic jingle of the bell hanging on the door sounded. "my God I hate this thing, everyone HAS to know you are entering or leaving any place" with an annoyed sigh Bucky puts his sunglasses back on even though it's already 5 p.m. and the sun is about to set.
Sunglasses are the best thing ever, no one can see how I roll my eyes every time someone says something stupid, or how I judge them for their crappy life choices. Therapy would be easier if I could do it with my glasses on. "James please, this place is safe for you, you don't need to have your glasses on, could you take them off for our sessions?", somehow, I convinced the doc to keep them on, until I fell asleep with them on in the middle of the session and she noticed after 10 minutes. She looked at me with so much hatred and contempt, after that I decided not to have the glasses on anymore in the sessions, let alone the lady lose her coolness and kill me while I fall asleep again. The Doc really needs a raise in her salary just for having to put up with me.
As he walks through the super-congested streets of New York, stuffing his hands into his jacket, his hand collides with the flyer his therapist very kindly gave him with the idea that Bucky is closer to living in a geriatric home than to solving his personal problems and maybe getting a girlfriend. "I really hate this century" he thinks as he tries to concentrate on the pizza he will have for dinner, well not so much, at least in this century there is cheese crust.
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starkiddreamcasting · 3 years ago
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Starkid Seussical
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Oh, the thinks you can think! Imagine the Starkid dreamcast of the Suessical! I saw this show in middle school and only recently discovered the version very different from the Kids version I watched. Going through the plot and music of the show inspired me to make this, hope you enjoy!
1. Jae Hughes as The Cat in the Hat 2. Kendall Nicole as Jojo 3. Chris Allen as Horton the Elephant 4. Jaime Lyn Beatty as Gertrude McFuzz 5. Jamie Burns as Mayzie LaBird 6. Britney Coleman as Sour Kangaroo 7. Jeff Blim as General Schmitz 8. AJ Holmes as The Mayor of Whoville 9. Meredith Stepien as Mrs. Mayor 10. Nico Ager as Vlad Vladikoff/Ensemble 11. Tyler Brunsman as Wickersham Brother/Ensemble 12. Richard Campbell as Cat’s Helper/Ensemble 13. Denise Donovan as Cat’s Helper/Ensemble 14. Corey Dorris as Judge Yertle the Turtle/Ensemble 15. Mariah Rose Faith as Bird Girl/Ensemble 16. Nick Gage as Grandpa Who/Ensemble 17. Ali Gordon as Cat’s Helper/Ensemble 18. Janaya Mahealani Jones as Bird Girl/Ensemble 19. Lauren Lopez as Cat’s Helper/Ensemble 20. Joe Moses as JoJo’s Principal/Ensemble 21. Joey Richter as Wickersham Brother/Ensemble 22. Brian Rosenthal as Cat’s Helper/Ensemble 23. Rachael Soglin as Marshal of the Court/Ensemble 24. James Tolbert as Wickersham Brother/Ensemble 25. Joe Walker as The Grinch/Ensemble 26. Lauren Walker as Grandma Who/Ensemble 27. Kim Whalen as Bird Girl/Ensemble
Standbys: Brian Holden (The Cat in the Hat)
Swings: Angela Giarratana, Jon Matteson, Alex Paul, Jim Povolo
Understudies: Nico Ager (Cat’s Helper), Mariah Rose Faith (Mayzie LaBird), Nick Gage (Horton the Elephant), Angela Giarratana (Mrs. Mayor, Cat’s Helper, Bird Girl, Grandma Who), Janaya Mahealani Jones (Sour Kangaroo), Lauren Lopez (Mayzie LaBird), Jon Matteson (The Mayor of Whoville, Vlad Vladikoff, Cat’s Helper, Wickersham Brother, JoJo’s Principal), Joe Moses (Horton the Elephant, The Mayor of Whoville), Alex Paul (Gertrude McFuzz, Cat’s Helper, Bird Girl, Marshall of the Court), Jim Povolo (General Schmitz, Wickersham Brother, Judge Yertle the Turtle, Grandpa Who, The Grinch), Rachael Soglin (Gertrude McFuzz, Mrs. Mayor), James Tolbert (The Cat in the Hat), Joe Walker (General Schmitz), Lauren Walker (Sour Kangaroo)
Make sure to leave any show suggestions or any questions on my casting choices so I can explain them.
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nonbinaryeye · 4 years ago
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9, 14, and 16?
9. Most disliked character(s)? Why?
Huh I was doing some thinking and it's actually quite hard to figure out which character I dislike. (On my first listen I hated Elias Bouchard. Oh, I hated him so passionately and so much! How I would my past self enjoy the finale... If I did not dive too deep into fandom... What a fool I am why is he my favorite character now nobody asked him to be!)
But some characters I'm not exactly a fan are:
Helen the Distortion. It's not about her being fake friend or secret tory I really loved this reveal about her I just never managed to find anything interesting or exciting as the rest of the fandom? But it's probably mostly because of how annoyed I was in season four when everyone was criticizing Jon for traumatizing people and completely disregarding Helen trapping people inside her...
Simon Fairchild... I'm sorry I just don't understand the appeal of him... Plus I don't like highs or any open spaces so I feel really bad for all the people he sacrificed yet everyone is like: Haha, funky grandpa. Really how is he from all the avatars the one getting the least of hate? (at least from what I saw)
Maxwell Rainer. I just vibe Beholding too much so I'm naturally opposed to Dark. Also he's body snatching loser he cannot even steal body without his stupid cult. (my apologies to all the Dark avatars out there...)
Gertrude Robinson. Okay she's absolute badass. But whole her life is one long line of very questionable moral choices with the ideology that the end justifies the means. I think she's amazing and interesting character but I still kind of dislike her for her actions.
14. Unpopular opinion about your fandom?
It's first time I'm experiencing some fandom on tumblr so I don't have comparison how much is this tma exclusive but some people are trying to police others people's opinions, ships and headcannons a bit too much (I don't even have that many followers yet I still managed to get some comments explaining to me that lonelyeyes divorce is just a meme and that I'm taking it too far... I won't even talk about trans headcannons discourse)
So yeah, whenever I'm posting anything that might be even just slightly controversial I always rather puts there so many disclaimers about this being only my take or my personal headcannon and that I'm not trying to attack anyone else's opinion or headcannon.
16. If you could change anything in the show, what would you change?
Multidivorce lonelyeyes are now cannon!
There are few things that I would prefer to be done or addressed differently but nothing I would really mund that much.
Maybe just...
I know not everything needs its resolution but I wanted one last proper one on one conversation between Jon and Melanie. They were on several occasions in season five talking about the other but never to each other....
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theradioghost · 5 years ago
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forgive me for what I have done
(to be sung, of course, to the tune of We Didn’t Start the Fire)
Jon Sims, Martin K, Tim Stoker, Sasha James, archiving, organizing, trying not to die Michael Shelley, Mike Crew, Simon says "enjoy sky blue," Magnus Institute, servants of the Eye
Basira and Daisy, YouTube memes of Melanie Anglerfish, shake with Jude, I Do Not Know You tape recorders, Do Not Open, Dekker's table trap is broken, running through the tunnels with the Not!Them right behind you
-
We didn't start the Archives, bet you'd never known ya had this many phobias We didn't start the Archives, make your statement here, it's time to face your fear
-
Breekon, Hope, Annabelle, Peter Lukas go to hell, pipe murder, skin book, What the Ghost? Admiral, Georgie, Gertrude, Gerry Kaey, Maxwell Rayner's People's Church of the Divine Host
Spiral, Desolation, Gerry goes on a vacation, Buried, End and Stranger, kidnapping's a danger evil clowns killed Danny Stoker, cursed Samoan antiques broker static hiss, Prentiss, melt your face off with a kiss
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We didn't start the Archives, bet you'd never known ya had this many phobias We didn't start the Archives, make your statement here, it's time to face your fear
-
Vampires want blood, grandpa's knife can stop a flood Elias has an evil plot, Melanie got ghost-shot Really big evil pig, crazy foreshadow in "Dig" is the Extinction real or not, your boss can read your every thought
Hilltop Road, Binary, eldritch monstrosity, listening to Grifter's Bone, Naomi in the fog alone Schwartzwald, Lightless Flame, cheat Death at a card game Mr. Spider, corpse throne, Jared's gonna steal your bones
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We didn't start the Archives, bet you'd never known ya had this many phobias We didn't start the Archives, make your statement here, it's time to face your fear
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Leitner, Manuela, ringmaster Nikola, groan-worthy title puns, angry Hunters firing guns Milbank prison underneath, anatomy bone apple teeth screw physics, go to space and build an evil sun
Martin has no school diploma, Jon spent six months in a coma tell me what you see, sadness is a guarantee!
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We didn't start the Archives, bet you'd never known ya had this many phobias We didn't start the Archives, make your statement here, it's time to face your fear
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can't quit, you're stuck here now, take solace in a good cow Bouchard, Jon's scarred, apocalypse in the front yard Tim's kayaking, no question, post-season-four depression, Twitter has us all on guard, hiatuses are way too hard
Daisy has gone feral, Distortion Helen's AWOL closed door, no more, Eye ritual encore, looking up into the sky, it looks back cause it's an eye, Jonny haunts, Alex taunts, TELL US WHAT THE SPIDERS WANT
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We didn't start the Archives, bet you'd never known ya had this many phobias We didn't start the Archives, make your statement here, it's time to face your fear
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kimyoonmiauthor · 5 years ago
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I love old cranky white Grandpa Publishing, but he needs to change.
This is an analogy I used to use a lot on the Nanowrimo forums when I was on the Nanowrimo forums. I liked to personify both Publishing and the Movie Industry together as grumpy old white men with houses, I suppose in urban centers. I was actually surprised when I saw Up, because I was like, that’s how I imagined Grandpa Publishing.
I’m fond of extended analogies, especially when talking about social justice or concepts that seem too academic to understand. When I was a kid, I wanted to be an actress. My mom tried her best to dissuade me. Said I’d have to endure racism. Due to things out of my control, I ended up switching to writing. I still suppose if I grew up in Korea, I’d have been an actress. The adoptee part of me, sometimes fantasizes about meeting her--the other me.
I escaped acting to escape being hurt by the industry I loved. But finding no escape, I wandered around, trying to find an industry that couldn’t be racist. But there is no such thing. There is no place on Earth I wouldn’t be discriminated against. I realized I had to fight. But I was tired of fighting and had no tools to do so. Growing up transracially adopted, doesn’t exactly give you tools to deal with racism. Though, I’ve learned there are no good defenses against systemic oppression, whiteness definitely is the opposite of help. I had to learn.
I chose one of my first loves: Stories. And so went the writing industry. I’ve always been a self-determined type. Wanting to learn everything at my pace. I drive people around me crazy with this. “You need foundational skills first.” But then I’d always want to learn in a different way and in a self-directed way. I’d whine to my Dad constantly about the way I wanted to learn. (Maybe a self-entitled brat.)
Settling on stories on the delusion I could make it without being judged on who I was I set out on that quest.
I absorbed as many worldwide stories as I could, classics I liked and hated. stories in all types of media. I asked to connect to French TV which was blurry at the time. I wanted Latinx stories too, and attempted to ask for that in my schooling. In my quest, I decided to learn as much as I could with anything I could about writing. And so, after about 7 years of knowing I was writing crap--I hated the first story I sent out, but it was for a school assignment and I didn’t get to choose, I kept trying. I wrote a story that was well-liked. I edited it a bunch more times. I had it go through several critiques. I sent it out and got a rejection.
The rejection that sticks out the most to me, is one where it reads, “Maybe because I’m not a woman. :)” A few years later, the concept was made into a TV episode written and staring a white man as the protagonist. I know the two aren’t connected, but I still felt burnt. Why was mine which centered around a woman, less worthy than a man doing it, and a white man at that? The story was 90% concept. I’d had it checked by several people. I’d combed it for mistakes. I felt like it was my fault. Maybe I didn’t edit it enough. Maybe I missed some mistakes.
This was my first taste of Grandpa Publishing. I came to know him as grumpy as Grandpa Hollywood--the grandpa everyone assumed was gay and Jewish, even if the things he likes aren’t anything close to this, in actuality. Grandpa Publishing became “get off my lawn” type when I learned who the top executives were. I’ve never judged people for their labels that much. Maybe because I have so many. I still screw up--no doubt. But I’ve also witnessed old people change. My parents would tell me to not even try. And I refused to believe them. Connecting and respecting the core of the person--I try to do that in respect of their labels, not despite it. At their own pace. I imagined he could change, if I could understand him.
Imagining Grandpa Publishing like this, I also imagined myself trying to win his love and praise. Kill the bad grammar, so he’d read my manuscript. Write a really good blurb. Learn his history. I have his history since the first stories were told out loud. I can recite the beginning of almost all genres and debates about them. I was fine with Grandpa Publishing until I understood what he wanted for me to qualify. “Kill the Korean parts of your manuscript.” “Erase the people of color in your life.” “World Lit, where did you get the idea I would read World Lit?” Stab me in the heart--why do you want to forget your own history, Grandpa Publishing?
I asked Grandpa Publishing why he was this way... and it comes down to Grandpa Education. Equally white, often with a sick fetish for French, Roman and Greek men (as long as they don’t say they are gay) and no, he’s not going to talk like he’s really gay because somehow teaching gay history is evil, even if he worships Plato and Aristotle. The second mostly for his hate of women, because worshipping Athens’ scholars who hated women is better than studying Sparta, that upheld women.
So this leaves me with asking why Grandpa Education is this way while thinking he’s liberal. Digging back through education history in Europe is tricky, but it’s mostly down to the Victorians, who were busy conquering the world at the time under Empire for the US. Grandpa Education is wrong. He forgets the contribution of gay, black, hispanic, etc people that shaped his organs. Jane Addams. Do you know her? She made continued education possible. Do you remember her Grandpa Publishing in your push for more straight people and education?
Can you change Grandpa Publishing without Grandpa Education? A bunch of us tried that. But we’re still left with the same questions, camping out on Grandpa Publishing’s lawn while he’s shaking his cane at us--some of us more than others. How much Trauma Porn does Grandpa Publishing want, and what about the adults? What about other demographics? He’s fine with his grandchildren reading. He wants only stories of our hurt, our pain, but rarely of our daily joy or triumphs or just being normal. The coming out story, the tragic gay. Slavery stories from blacks. Korean War from Koreans. Hiroshima bombing. Indigenous people being erased. Where are the whites? Adoptees--memoirs only. He constantly asks. And he snickers with Grandpa Hollywood all the time about this. Grandpa Hollywood that likes to give out rewards to white people for being anything, but hates on minorities. He will give out money and favor his children to get closer to him by ranking them. But unlike in real life, we don’t have intermediaries, or parents to really tell us how to yell at Grandpa Publishing to get better and stop ranking us.
I keep thinking that we need a three way push on Hollywood, Publishing and Education to make an edge in the creative arts. They are more interconnected than most remember. We’ll need an uprising to get there, though because I’m tired of the stupid excuses people make. How can we pioneer our stories on privileged standards that came before it? Especially when a lot of our story telling traditions are older than the White CIS het orthosexed zedsexual land holding privileged that Grandpa has become? When will he recognize our older story telling traditions just as valid as the younger White European mostly told as Shakespearean, but really shaped by Victorian ideals and Gertrude Stein (though people still want to forget her contributions because, you know, lesbian). Argue to me why these older story telling traditions aren’t as valid when they still are used in those countries today. I’m waiting, Grandpa Publishing. What answer have you that’s not racist?
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badgerlock · 6 years ago
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some TMA char impressions now that I'm caught up
Jon: a human-shaped question mark who is Tired, red string meme, fuelled by coffee and cat videos probably. Has never gone a day without saying "well, actually..." Ace legend. A grandpa yellin at them assistants to get off his lawn but is sad when they don’t show up
Martin: baby. Baby boy. If anything makes him sad I will physically fight the sun. Knows everyone's favourite type of tea, bought boxes of each himself and brings it in to work, makes it perfectly every time. Relates to the Christmas tree from Charlie Brown. He writes lukewarm poetry and my heart I just caNT
Tim: leave!! him!!! alone!!! He's just a dude in this awful world, let him surf in peace!! Would take younger cousins out to play Pokemon Go. Thinks Die Hard is a Christmas movie. Would leave flaming bags of dog poop on Elias' porch, wouldn't care that he knows it's him. Has a protein bar holster
Elias: a menace. An absolute fiend. First words were probably "scheduling difficulties". Boss-shaped trickster. Living proof that the line between 'bland, aloof boss' and 'terrible murder ostrich' is possible. Favourite book series is Encyclopedia Britannica. A Bastard
Gerard: there is no power greater than the sheer amount of goth he is. If being goth was an extreme sport. Fav Pokemon is clefairy hands down
Melanie: the Wiley Coyote to Elias' Roadrunner. Let her look for ghosts in peace!! Probably an expert on microwave burritoes. "Fite me"
Basira: the biggest nerd. Thought she was a scary cop? Wrong, buckaroo. She's here to read about weird stuff and gossip. Could still fistfight a swarm of wasps and win
Daisy: eats soup straight from the can, doesn't even cook it first. Crushes fistfuls of sugar glass to freak people out. Thinks people who don't play Diablo on hardcore are babies
The Admiral: the real main character. Probably an absolute unit, maximum fluffy. Unstoppable creature. give scritchies
Gertrude: Honestly??? could nail my heart to a wall and I’d thank her. Cool, badass, terrifying, absolutely ready at all times to destroy anyone with words. The fact she’s voiced by Jon Sims’ irl mum is a m a z i n g. A vocal inspiration. I love her
Michael: horrid memelord. All of those corridors but probably lives in a trashcan. Minor deity of hot takes on twitter. Makes Minecraft music videos
The Beholden: hi welcome to Chili’s can I take everything you know about everything ever; owned one of those locking electronic diaries for kids; an absolute pain to play Clue with
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lynestvstoriesblr · 7 years ago
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THE SAGA OF ELIJAH AND GERTRUD-PARELL LIVES Read. Enjoy.  COMMENT!!!!!!!!!
 Chapter 6 Part B-Baby’s 1st Month
 The bell above the door of Joe’s Sew Shop rang out as usual when Elijah Cobblepot open the door. In one hand, he carried the car seat that held his newborn   son. His wife, Gertrud was right behind him, carrying her over night bag.
“Hello? Anyone here? We’re home” Elijah called out.
It only took a moment for Joe Lawson, Elijah’s boss, their landlord   and the couple’s closest friend to appear in the store door.     “Well, if it isn’t my favourite new family of 3” Joe smiled as he came forward to hug them.  First, he hugged Elijah, them Gertrud, who he hadn’t seen in a few days. “You might not be pregnant anymore, Gertrud, but you’re still glowing.”
“Joe, you flatter.”
As the other 2 chatted, Elijah put down the car seat and carefully freed the baby from the straps and held him up.
“Here’s the guest of honour, my son!” Elijah announced proudly. “Too bad he’s sleeping though his big debut.”
Joe laughed. “No matter. He’ll wake up soon enough. Leave that bag out here in the hall and come in. Would you like some coffee?"
“Coffee sounds lovely.” Gertrud smiled.
They all went into the store, which was messier than they ever saw it.
“Wow! Did a bomb go off in here?” Elijah asked.
Joe laughed.  “Not quite. See you caught me in the middle of doing inventory. It’s always been a part of my spring cleaning.”
“Spring cleaning? In October?” Elijah questioned.
Joe shrugged. “So I’m late this year.”
All 3 laughed at that, as they went round the back to Joe’s office where he poured 3 cups of coffee. They chatted about life for a while then Joe just happened to look down into the car seat.
“Hey, look who’s up! May I?”
The proud parents both nodded in smiling agreement.
Joe leaned in and scooped up the infant. “Hello there, little one. It’s your Uncle Joe!” Suddenly, Joe looked up, worried. “I’m sorry, I should’ve asked first. Do you   mind if he calls me Uncle Joe?”
Elijah exchanged a beaming smile with his wife and squeezed her hand affectionately before turning back to Joe.  “Of course he may call you uncle. In fact, Gertrud and I were hoping you would honour us by agreeing to our son’s godfather.”
“I’ll   be delight too!” Joe exclaimed. “Wow, did you hear that? I’m going to   be your godfather. Would you like that, little um-“ Joe looked up,  “You know, if I’m to be his godfather, I should probably learn the boy’s name.”
Elijah chuckled as he got up to pass Joe the burp cloth. “Of course, how rude of me. Mr.   Joe Lawson, please allow me to introduce Mr. Oswald Elijah Cobblepot.”
The happy threesome chatted a little more before Elijah    and Gertrud decided it was time to go upstairs to their apartment to get the baby settled.  Gertrud took her son
from Joe as Elijah collected the car seat and the overnight bag. Elijah went up the stairs first and was able to hold the door open for Gertrud who was shocked at what she saw.  
“Wow! Would you look at this place? It’s completely spotless!”
Elijah’s smile was now bashful. “After you gave me the miracle of life, I thought that the very least I could do was make sure you and Oswald came home to a clean house. So, after I left you at the hospital last night, I   came back here and did the dishes, vacuumed, dusted and even put fresh sheets on our   bed.”
“Aw, Liebchen, that’s so sweet, thank you.”  Gertrud looked down to see their boy nibbling her coat. “I think I better feed him again.”
Elijah took   the baby so that Gertrud could ready herself by taking off her coat, settling on the couch and   unbuttoning her top. Once she was ready, Elijah gave her the   baby back and sealed the   exchange with a quick kiss. Elijah happily watched his wife and
son for a few moments before he realized he had work to do.
“While you finished up with him, I’m going to go unpack.”
Gertrud smiled back. “Okay.”
After feeding and burping her baby, Gertrud got off the couch and went into the bedroom, but froze in the doorway and gasped for the place was not exactly as she left it. A big, colourful   foil balloon that read IT’S A BOY! was tied to the end of the crib but it was safety blowing the opposite way. Beyond the crib, on the dresser, were two small vases of roses-one vase were yellow, the one was white.
Elijah stopped his unpacking and looked up. “Now, I know that lilies are your favourite, but they were all out so I hope these non-allergic roses will do.”
Her smile made him all but swoon. “Darling, you didn’t need to do all this.”
“But I didn’t” Elijah got up and went to her. “Well, not all of it.  The balloon and 1 crop of roses are actually from Joe. Can you tell which one?”  
Gertrud shook her head. “No. Should I?”
Elijah smiled. “Well, what if I  told you that the colour of a rose means different things. Like yellow means friendship but white is eternal love.  Now do you know who gave you which?”
Gertrud nodded and their lips met in a kiss. “Thank you for my yellow roses.” She teased.
“Wrong answer!” Elijah went to tickle his wife, but she squealed and jumped away. Because of the suddenly movement, the baby squirmed.   Elijah took hold of his   son and held him close. “Now that Oswald has his tummy full, maybe we should wash off the grit and grime of the city a little before we change him for bed.”
“Great idea” Gertrud agreed. “You’re right in front of the bathroom so could you get the facecloth while I get things ready out here?”
Elijah nodded and took Oswald in the bathroom to dampen a cloth while Gertrud picked out a new onsie, a fresh diaper and knelt before the bed after lying down a protective blanket. When he returned, Elijah gently put Oswald on the blanket and sat in the   middle of the bed. The parents worked as a team to sponge bathe their    baby.  Since Elijah was up by the head, he ran the cloth over Oswald’s tiny   head and upper body while Gertrud held the baby down. Then they switched, Elijah held Oswald in place while Gertrud washed his lower body and legs. They both worked to fasten the new diaper in place and once Elijah carefully got his son’s head though   the onsie, Gertrud did up the snaps at the bottom.
“All clean!”   Gertrud announced and picked up her infant and turned back to the crib. As his wife settled Oswald down, Elijah leapt off the bed and grabbed a   stuffed bear. As he neared the crib, he wrapped his arm around Gertrud’s waist and peered down at his yawning boy.
“Mommy and I have a special gift for you, Oswald.” Elijah explained as he placed the teddy in a corner of the crib, safely out of reach of the newborn. “This is Oscar. He’s special because your Grandma and Grandpa Kapelput gave him to Mommy when she was   a baby.”
Gertrud, while deeply touched, said nothing, just put an arm around her husband and rested her head on his shoulder.
After they watched their son drifted off to dreamland, Elijah collected him wife in his arms.  “I don’t mean to bag, Mrs. Cobblepot, but I think we make the most beautiful children together.”
Gertrud beamed. “I completely agree.”
After another quick kiss, Elijah grabbed Gertrud’s hand. “Now that the baby’s settled, let’s get you to bed.”
“You sure I can’t help you with the rest of the unpacking?”
“Nah,” Elijah disagreed.  “I only have a few      more items to put away, besides I read somewhere that when the baby   rest so should the mother. So come on,” He led her to her side of the bed. Gertrud sat down on the bed and before she could stop him, Elijah had already taken off her shoes.
“I won’t lie to you” Gertrud said as she lay down, “After days of laying on lumpy mattresses, this bed feels heavenly.”
“Well, that’s the plan.  After you get the girl of your dreams to marry you, buy her a comfortable bed so she’ll never want to get out of it.”
Gertrud found Elijah’s teasing smile so damn sexy, that if she just     didn’t have a baby, she would’ve jumped him right then and there. But she could do was return the kiss he gave her and say, “I love you.”
 After he finished with the unpacking, Elijah laid down to Gertrud, his brow against her’s, his hand on her hip.
“It’s okay, you can go.” Said a drowsy Gertrud.
“Go?  Go where?”
“Downstairs to   help Joe. I know you what to. I saw your face when we walked into the store.”
It was true, Elijah did feel bad that he hadn’t reported to work in 4 days and no doubt     Joe could use a hand with inventory. On the hand, he wasn’t sure he should leave his family.
“Are you sure you be alright alone?”
Gertrud smiled. “Of course.  Oswald’s asleep and I’m about to join him.  Go help Joe.”
“Okay” Elijah decided “but I’m taking the baby monitor with me.”
“Um.” His wife’s eyes were closed at this point.
Elijah covered her with a blanket and grabbed the monitor on   his way out.
“What are you doing back here?” Joe asked when   he saw Elijah in the store’s doorway.
Elijah smiled. “I got my family all settled in so I decided to give them some space to sleep and you look like you could use some help. Where do you want me, boss?”
“I guess you can start by marking down what’s on the self behind me.”
“Sure.” Elijah went to where Joe pointed and saw there was paper and pencil waiting.
After a few   minutes of working in silence, Joe spoke up. “You know, I’m actually    glad we   got time to talk. So, do you want to tell me why you’re so upset?”
Elijah looked up, confused. “Upset? I’m not upset.”
“Oh really? I heard you knocking your furniture or whatever around your apartment. When you came down this morning, you said you were just cleaning up. I’m not buying it. What’s wrong, Elijah?”
Elijah sighed.   “Oh alright. I suppose I need to talk about it.”
“Is it Gertrud? Did you two have a fight or something?”
“No. Gertrud and I are great.”
“Anxious about the baby? It’s perfectly okay for a new father to be nervous.”
“I’m not nervous about the baby.”
Joe was about to give    up. “Then, what?”
Elijah sighed. “Okay, yesterday   morning at the hospital, Gertrud and I got a uninvited and very, very, unwelcome guest. My father.”
“Your father? But I thought you weren’t in contact with   him.”
“I’m not,” Elijah answered. “We haven’t exchanged a word in 7 months so it was quite a shock to see him there.”
“Judging from the tone of your voice, I’m guessing it wasn’t a happy reunion?”
Elijah gave him a half-smile. “It wasn’t, but what really drives me crazy is he’s the one who made me chose, I chose Gertrud and he’s still interfering!”
“I suppose all fathers worry, no matter where their children are.” Joe said softly.
Elijah laughed bitterly. “Not mine, he only lives to belittle me! He waited for me to step away so he could fling insults at Gertrud. When I told him that I changed my name to get around his stupid ban and I married Gertrud in spite of him, he called me a stupid fool and he called Gertrud a whore.”
Joe closed    his eyes. “Oh Elijah, I’m so sorry.”
“Oh it’s okay” Elijah dismissed. “Personally I think what really made him upset was the fact that this fool outsmarted him. Besides, it was what he said next that really made me angry.”
“Which was?”
“He wanted a DNA test done on Oswald.  Have you ever heard something so absurd? I mean, that’s why we got home so late, my wife and I spent     half the morning in the lab watching our baby getting poked with needles and swaps in his mouth.”
Joe was confused. “So you’re opposed to the DNA test but you went though with it anyway?”
“Only for Gertrud,” Elijah explained. “For some reason, she wasn’t insulted, angry or anything. She just agreed   to my father’s request.”
“Good.”
“Good? You think it’s good that we had to submit our newborn to DNA testing?”
Joe shook his head.  “No, don’t get me wrong here. I only meant that both of your reactions were good.”
Elijah didn’t quite follow.  “Our reactions?”
“Yeah, the very idea of a DNA test sickening you, I can hear it in your voice. You reject this idea because there’s not 1 doubt in your mind that Oswald isn’t yours. This proves that you trust Gertrud.”
“With my life.”    Elijah confirmed.
“Likewise, by agreeing to take the test, Gertrud is proving that she   has nothing to hide.”
“She shouldn’t have   to prove anything! I hate this!” Elijah exploded. “My father tried to ruin one of the happiest day in our lives-our first full day with our son. Well, that’s it! When the lab calls with the results, I’m simply ignore it.”
“I don’t think that’s what Gertrud wants.”
“Why not?” wondered the younger man. “I already said she has nothing to prove, especially to a old jerk like my father.”
“I don’t think it’s that. You know, Gertrud is so happy that she has a family at last but she’s also feels guilty that she had to break yours up to get it.”
“How do you know that?”
“Gertrud told   me, on the night you guys got married. My guess? She agreed because if she can prove   Oswald is yours, she can get   you back in your dad’s good graces.”
Elijah nodded.  “That certainly sounds likes my Gertrud but I’ve told her time and again that this rift is not her fault. Besides, even if we do go in for the results, I know my father, he’ll rant and rave, probably said something insulting, in the end he’ll refuse to accept the results and the whole thing will be a big waste of time.”
“So don’t do it for him” Joe suggested. “Do it for yourself, so you can that you can say at least you tried. Do it for Oswald, for when he get older   and he wonders where his grandparents are, you can tell him that you tried to bring peace to the family.”
Elijah sighed. “I hate to admit it but you’re right.”
  Hours later, Elijah got ready for bed and stopped short just outside the bathroom. The sight of Gertrud, already in her nightdress, swaying in the rocking chair, humming and nursing their son, warmed Elijah’s heart.  “So, this   is a loving, tight-knitted family looks like. I love it!”
With a peaceful smile, Gertrud looked up and giggled. “Remember that when he’s screaming at 3 AM.”
Elijah   returned his wife’s giggle with one of   his own. “Do you want me to change his diaper?”
“Already taken care of.” Gertrud was done feeding him so she got up and walked the floor. When she was close enough, she   gave Elijah a kiss that made his toes curl.
“Not that I’m complaining” Elijah smiled. “But what was that for?”
“For saying that you trust me with your life.”
Elijah blinked. “How did you-“
“The baby monitor, it goes both ways.”
“Oh.” Elijah crossed to the bed as he watched Gertrud put Oswald in his crib. Since his talk with Joe, hadn’t been able to get his father or what he said out of his head. Especially 1 part. “Darling” Elijah began slowly, “I hate myself for even bringing this up, but do you remember when my father stupidly said he might be Oswald’s father?”
Gertrud, who had leaning into the   crib, rose up, froze and then straightened, her eyes wide. “I never slept with him, Elijah, I swear it!”
“Oh but I already knew that, beloved.” Her husband said   gently, rushing to assure her. “Darling, I want to be perfectly clear here. I am not blaming or accusing you of anything. But we both know that my father’s behaviour toward women hadn’t always been …gentlemanly. So, I guess I’m asking um, did he ever try to force himself on you in any way or made unwanted advances?”
Gertrud studied his eyes. There were soft and trusting. His concern for her was genuine and tender. Anger or jealousy had no place in this conversation. He just worried for     her welfare. Gertrud was so touched that she felt safe enough to tell   her husband the truth. “He did ask me to go to bed     with him once.” Gertrud said softly as she went to sit on bed   and took Elijah’s hand. She was overjoyed that he didn’t retract it. “Just once and I refused him, of course. I kept waiting for him to fire me but he never did.  The 2 of us weren’t lovers   yet but I did   have feelings     for you. I never told you because I didn’t want to cause trouble. I never dreamt he let on about it himself. Still, I am proud that in a world full of uncertain relationships, I managed to only give myself heart, mind, body and soul to my 1 true love.”
“As did I.” Elijah whispered and kissed her before they settled in for their first night as a family of 3.
 The lab tech said it would take 2 weeks to get the results and sure enough the call came very early in the morning of the 14th day.  The hospital were forced to make   2 phone calls, 1 to   Van Dahl manor and 1 to the Cobblepots’ private home line, for Elijah refuse to give his father any information about where he and Gertrud now lived.  Elijah got dressed while Gertrud fed Oswald and then took the baby so his wife could get ready.
“I know, I know” Elijah crooned to his screaming son while attempting to get him changed. “Why shouldn’t you be fussy and carry on? This isn’t your fault. Why should you be dragged from your nice, warm crib just because your grandfather can’t or won’t accept what anyone with eyes would know was true.”
“I can hear the wind from in here.”    Gertrud crossed the room to ready the diaper bag.
Elijah sighed. “I don’t think these clothes will keep him warm enough. Do we have more?”
Gertrud frowned. “Not in that size. Why don’t you take a thick blanket and swaddle him? It could calm him down too.” She suggested.
Her husband nodded and did exactly that. Oswald’s little body calmed but he   still screamed.
“Hush, my boy hush” Elijah soothed, rubbed the   baby’ s back and looked up. “Darling, you haven’t seen his pacifier around, haven’t you?”
Gertrud stopped in the middle of buttoning her dress and blinked. “Pacifier?”
“You know, his binky.”
His wife shook her head. “I don’t understand. I’m sorry.”
Then he saw it across the room. “No worries, my love. The soother is there on the nightstand.” He gestured with his chin.
“Oh! That’s a soother!” Gertrud rushed to get it, smiling happily that she finally understood. “Sorry, Oswald. This is what you get with an English as a 2nd language mother.”
“We don’t mind.” Elijah whispered and smiled. Gertrud held the now settling baby as Elijah put on his coat. Just as they about to head out, Elijah stopped, putting a hand on his wife’s    arm. “Wait. Before we go, I just want to say no matter what my father says or does, I love you and I’m 1000% sure that our love made Oswald.”
Gertrud kissed him slow. “I   love you too, Liebchen.”
They left their apartment and went downstairs to see Joe in the hallway unfolding the stroller.
“Joe? What are you doing   up so early? You didn’t have to send us off.”
“I don’t mind, at all.” Joe easily dismissed.  “In fact, if it wasn’t a weekday and I had to open the shop, I have half a mind to go down there with you.”
Elijah put a hand on the other man’s    shoulder. “We already talked about this. I don’t want my father putting you on his hit list just because I work for you.”
Joe nodded reasonably.   “Right.”
“Besides,” Elijah continued, “We’ll probably be  back in time for business   hours. I mean, how long can it take to say I’m you’re father, Luke?”
Joe laughed but Gertrud looked up from tucking in the   baby, confused.
“Who on earth is Luke?”
Elijah couldn’t help but smile. “Nothing, darling. It’s a Star Wars reference.”
This only confused her more. There a war in the stars?”
“Careful, your American is showing.”  Joe whispered to Elijah then disappeared downstairs.
Elijah put an arm around his wife as his other hand pushed the stroller out the door. “Come on, I’ll explain on the way.”
  As he and his family rounded the last corner to the hospital, Elijah saw his father’s   limo come into view. Everything in Elijah tensed up when he saw that his father was not exiting the car alone.
“He brought my mother into this!?” Elijah hissed to himself.
“Maybe she’s eager to meet her new grandson.” Gertrud suggested.
Wordlessly, Elijah looked at her. His poor, sweet angel! Gertrud still believed that getting the DNA results was going to bring about some kind of joyous family reunion. Elijah knew better. Before Elijah could say anything; Elizabeth spotted her son.
“Elijah! Oh, Elijah, are you all right? Are you okay?” She rushed to her son and hugged him, completely ignoring Gertrud and the baby.
With his mother’s arms around him, Elijah swallowed back a sigh but couldn’t stop his eyes from rolling. “I’m fine, Mother, truly. I’ve never been better.”
The ladies went in the hospital because the elder man held Elijah back. “Why did you bring the cook and her baby with you?!” Frederick demanded.
“What do you mean why did I bring them?  Of course I brought them!” Elijah snapped. “This test concerns them as much as it does me.  Will it kill you to be kind to Gertrud just once?”
“I am trying to be kind” Frederick replied. “I’m only thinking of her when I said you shouldn’t have brought her, that way she won’t be publicly shamed when it’s declared that you’re not the father!”
Elijah laughed bitterly and shook his head. “That’s not going to happen because I am the father.”
“If you’re so sure of that then why did you agree to this?”
“I didn’t agree to anything!” Elijah snapped. “My wife did and the fact that she did and so quickly, should tell you everything you need to know.”
“Frederick, get in here!” Elizabeth ordered.
As his father stalked into the hospital, Elijah met his wife’s eyes. There he saw worry, worry for him.
This    won’t take long. Elijah silently reminded himself as he stepped though the door.
 The 2 couples waited in a waiting room in an awkward silence for 15 minutes before    they were shown into a small doctor’s office. Oswald, who had fallen asleep on their way up here, now awoke crying. Gertrud picked him up and swayed with him gently. There were 2 chairs facing the doctor’s desk. Elizabeth sat in one and gestured for her son to sit beside her, but Elijah chose to hang back and help Gertrud with the baby so Frederick took the seat. Soon after, a doctor with a clipboard appeared and closed the door.
“Good morning.” He smiled.
“Do you have the test results?” Frederick demanded, rather rudely.
“Yes, I do.” The doctor moved behind the desk before catching Elijah’s eye. “I’m sorry but you’re not the father.”
Gertrud felt all the blood drain from her face. “What?! No! That’s impossible!” She was on the verge of tears.
“You heard the doctor, slut,” Frederick said roughly. “The jig is up! Come Elijah, let’s go home.”
Elijah said nothing. He just took 2 long strides to the desk and yanked the clipboard out of the     doctor’s hands before anyone could stop him.
He then read what was in front of him and turned his angry eyes to his father. “You son of a bitch!”
Oswald had quiet down so Gertrud gently returned him to the stroller before asking in a whisper “Elijah, what’s going on?”
“Well, I found this attached to the clipboard” Elijah held up a crisp, brand new $1000 dollar bill for everyone to see. “There’s also a note here, in my father’s handwriting, saying and I quote; just say that my son is NOT the father and you will get 9 more of these.” Elijah turned back to the doctor. “Where are the real test results? Did you even bother to do them?” Elijah demanded.
The doctor hung his head, ashamed of what he did. “It’s under the note.” He mumbled.
Elijah tore off the note, balled it up     and dropped it on the ground, not caring where it landed. Then he studied the medical form. “Ah, here it is,” he declared and began to read aloud. “Allowing for 1% for human error, it is confirmed that Elijah Van Dahl, my name is now Cobblepot but whatever, is 99.98% the father of the newborn child, Oswald.” Elijah turned toward his    father and threw the clipboard in his lap. “Read it and weep, old man.” Without a word, Elijah put 1 hand on the stroller and the other on his wife’s hip and guided both out of the office. Yet   both his parents followed them down the hall, calling for him. “Elijah, wait! Elijah, we have to talk.”
“Don’t they ever   know when to quit?” Elijah mumbled, annoyed and angry.
Surprisingly, it was Gertrud who stopped walking.  “I think it’s best that I feed Oswald before we start the walk home.    Maybe you could talk to your parents while I do that.”
Elijah tucked a lock of loose hair around Gertrud’s ear. “You’re far too good a woman to deal with this crap.”
His wife smiled. “I told you before darling, I don’t care what anyone think of me, along as I get to be with you.”
“You’ll always have me.” Elijah gave her a quick kiss   before she took the baby to a quiet corner to nurse. At the same time, his parents were still shouting his name and coming closer. Elijah whirled around to face them. “What?!” He demanded. “What could you possibly have to say now?”
Frederick sighed. “Okay, so you’re the father, all right, I’ll give   you that.”
“How big of you to say that now you have no   choice!”
“Elijah, this didn’t have to ruin your life. You’re not the 1st member of this family to have sex with a servant which led to a mistake.”    
Elijah was so angry he was surprised there wasn’t steam coming out of his ears.  Father,” he began through clothed teeth, “you are so lucky I don’t believe in violence.  As for your dumb comments-“
“Dumb?”
“Yes, dumb! I didn’t merely have sex with a servant as you put it; I fell in love with a woman. And my son is a miracle, not a mistake.”
Frederick wasn’t impressed. “So, now what?”
“Now, nothing. I mean, what’s the point? I feel so sorry for Gertrud; she was convinced that after the results were read, we would have a big family reunion. I knew better. I could take a million tests and you would still never accept   it. But after your little stunt, I finally realized it. You don’t deserve to get to get to know Gertrud or our baby! They’re too good for you!”
“They’re too good for me?! That woman and her baby are nothing but life-low trashy gutter-snipes!” Frederick hissed.
“Then I’m nothing but a life-low trashy gutter-snipe!” Elijah fired back. “Since we both know you don’t associate with people like that, why don’t you do us all a favour and go back to your mansion.  The day I left, you told Mother you could make another child, go do that! Buy a puppy, get a divorce even, but whatever you do, leave me out of it! I mean, this is goodbye. I mean it.  Once I walk out that door, it’s over between us.   That’s means no more bans that effects my life, no more P.I.s following us and if 1 of your friends reports that they saw me, you just let that information go in 1 ear and out the other.”
Frederick blinked. “Is that how you really want it?”
“That is exactly how I want it!”
“Enough!” Elizabeth finally cut in.  “You 2 can argue until the cows come home, but Elijah” she sighed, “the bottom line is that you belong at home with your family.”
“I agree completely, Mother.”
Both his parents stared at him, then Elizabeth smiled, “then, you’ll come home?”
Elijah nodded. “Of course. But I think your meaning of family and home is very different from mine. You see” Elijah pointed to be Gertrud was finishing up with Oswald. “They’re my family now and my home is wherever they are.”
His parents were shocked into silence and Elijah realized he had nothing left to say so he turned to where Gertrud was settling the baby back into the stroller. From behind he wrapped his arms about his wife’s waist and kissed her cheek. “You ready?”
She nodded. “You?”
“Completely.”
They headed for the door, but Frederick and Elizabeth got there first, resulting in an awkward moment. Frederick looked straight ahead but Elizabeth kept her sad eyes on her son. Elijah stared at floor.
Outside, the Van Dahl’s driver, Alan, was there to open and close the car doors for his employers. As Alan moved to        help Elizabeth in, he ran into Elijah and pressed a small, folded piece of paper into the other man’s hand. Read it later, Alan mouthed to his friend. The 2 men parted just as quickly as they bumped into each other.  Alan got behind the wheel and drove the limo away. Elijah waited until he turned a corner before he opened the note.
He brightened as he read. “It says here that Jackson and Alan won’t share a day off until next month, but when they do, they want to see the baby. Isn’t that great?”      
Elijah looked over to see that his wife was silently crying as she pushed the stroller. “Gertrud? Sweetheart, what’s wrong? What is it?”
“Elijah, I know you’re trying to be strong for me and the baby and I love you for it but it’s natural to be hurt by all this fighting with your parents.”
Elijah sighed and passed a hand though his hair.  “You’re right,” Elijah said, letting his guard down. “I knew my parents might disapprove of us, but I never thought they would reject me so completely.”
“But they haven’t rejected you” Gertrud pointed out. “They’d rejected you being with me. And it’s all my fault!”  Gertrud parked the stroller by a nearby bench and sat down, burying her head in her hands.
Elijah sat beside her. “Why do you think anything is your fault?” he asked softly.
His wife looked at him sideways. “Are you kidding? I’ve cost you everything, and I’m not talking about money. I mean, I’ve cost you your parents, your friends, living in the only home you’ve ever known. Maybe the children at the orphanage were right all along, maybe I am a jinx.”
Elijah scoffed. “A jinx? You?! My own real life angel, my wife, my love, my life. I don’t think so. Just look at Oswald, anyone who can make something so beautiful, so perfect cannot be a jinx.”
“Next you’ll tell me that it wouldn’t be nice to be a big, happy family.” Gertrud mumbled.
“It would be nice. It would be a wonderful. And I won’t lie, when I first saw my father from afar in the hospital the day after Oswald was born, I thought we would be. But we can’t make my parents act right. It like Joe said, all we can do is take comfort in the knowledge that we tried.”
Gertrud sniffed. “My poor Elijah, you’re going to lose people you love no matter what you choose.”
“But I’ve already chosen.” Elijah stressed. “It’s funny but I don’t remember you holding a gun to my head forcing me to pick you. In fact, I seem to recall a promise, which I broke to stay at the mansion. So if you’re a jinx, my love, then a case can be made that I’m a stalker.”
In spite of herself, Gertrud smiled. “Okay. You came after me of your own free will. But even you have to admit that it would easier if I was someone else. If I wasn’t me-“
Elijah didn’t even let her finish. “No. Don’t even go there.” Elijah stood up and dragged her up with him, so that they were face to face. “I don’t want to live in a world were you aren’t you. I don’t even want to think about it.”
“I only meant-“
“I know what you meant. You meant that it would be easier if I were in love with someone my parents approve of.”
“Well, it would!” She stressed.
“Not for me. Before I met you, all the girls I knew only thought of themselves or didn’t seem to think at all. I never met anyone like you and I mean that in the best way. Do you know why I married you? It wasn’t the baby, people co-parent everyday without marriage.  I married you before I know that you’re the only one for me. I have 2 goals in life, Gertrud. To be a good father and to wake up next to you every single morning of my life, whether we live in a palace or a landfill. Now, tell me, how can I do that in a world where you aren’t you?”
Speechless, Gertrud starting crying again but only with tears of joy as she hugged him. “Elijah, I love you.”
He hugged her tight. “And I love you, my angel.”
The rest of the walk was blissfully uneventful. It did melt Gertrud’s heart even more even Elijah immediately went to retuck in their   son after a cold wind turned fierce. But the real surprise was on Joe. He   was in his office, working on something at his desk when the family came in to tell him they were home. As soon as Joe saw them, he stashed   whatever he working on a drawer.
“What was that?” Elijah asked.
“What was what?” asked Joe, playing dumb.
Elijah smiled. “Come on Joe, we all saw it. What are you up to?”
Joe gave up. “Oh, alright.” He opened the drawer and took out a small, white, satin and lace gown. “It’s for Sunday, for the christening.” Joe explained. “I can’t let my godson go naked, now can I?”
“It’s beautiful,” Elijah praised. “Isn’t it, love?”
“Lovely.” Gertrud agreed, beaming. “I really like the lacy sleeves. They look so familiar.”
Joe blushed. “It should be.  It’s the same material that I made your wedding veil out of.”
“This is going to be a great christening.” Elijah declared, and 4 days later, it was.
  After the DNA results and the christening, the following days and weeks were normal and uneventful, exactly the way Elijah perferred it. He enjoyed going back to work at his normal hours, sewing, repairing and chatting with Joe. True to their word, Jackson and Alan showed  up when they said would  and finally, there was  joy and happiness. Things were   good at home too. Gertrud and Elijah both adored their baby to bits and   it was challenging, yet fun, learning how to care for him together. In fact, Elijah was humming to himself at work one day when Joe came in. “You know Elijah, it kind of slow in here today. Why don’t you pack it in and go home early?”
“Are you sure? I’d be happy to stay.”
“Sure I’m sure!” Joe smiled. “There’s only 1 hour left. Plus, today is a holiday.”
Elijah raised an eyebrow. “Holiday? Today’s not a holiday.”
“Yes, it is. It’s Halloween.”
Elijah thought for a moment, he knew it was late October, but he had never forgotten Halloween before. Then it hit him. This was the first year he wasn’t making costume after costume for his parents’ gala.  “Heh, I guess it is.”
“You still here?” Joe asked jokingly.
“I’m going. I’m going.” Elijah was out of the shop, upstairs and in his own home in under a minute. He expected to see Gertrud and Oswald on the sofa or somewhere nearby, but entered to a silent living room. After briefly looking around, Elijah frowned as he saw a breast pump on the kitchen island. It wasn’t that Elijah was opposed to bottles; if anything he was looking forward to being able to feed and bond with his son. The problem was that Gertrud was pumping, trying to get Oswald used to a bottle so she could go back to work in 2 weeks. That gave   her a grand total of 6 weeks maternity leave. Not nearly enough in Elijah’s opinion, especially considering all the work hours she put in during her pregnancy.
“Hello?” Elijah called out. “Anyone home?”
“We’re back here.” Gertrud replied.
He   found them in the bathroom, where Gertrud was   bathing their son. Smiling, Elijah knelt down beside his wife. “Well, what’s all this?”
Gertrud smiled back at him. “Oswald and I thought it’d be fun to do something different today.  Using the big tub because he’s such a big boy!”
“I can’t believe he’s   a month old already.”
“Actually, it’s a month and a day.” His   wife corrected.
Elijah watched delighted as Gertrud picked the baby up out of the tub and wrapped him in a big, fluffy towel. “A   beautiful wife and a squeaky clean baby. What more could a man ask for?”
“How about a pack of diapers?” Gertrud suggested. “When I getting ready for this bath, I found out there’s only 1 left. Liebchen, would you mind terribly running down to the corner store for me?”
“Why   don’t you go, love? I mean, you’ve been cooped up in this house with the baby all day. Perhaps the fresh air would do you some good.”
“Right, as always.” Gertrud     kissed him before handing him the baby.
The family exited the bathroom. Elijah and Oswald headed toward the baby’s changing table as Gertrud headed to the front room before remembering.
“Oh, Oswald hasn’t been fed yet. There a bottle in the fridge.”
“Okay.”
Gertrud left as Elijah smiled down at his son. “How’s my little peanut today?” He dried, diapered and dressed the baby in warm jammies before carrying him to the kitchen to collect the bottle.     Then they went into the living room. When Elijah landed on the couch, he sat on the remote, turning on the TV. He grabbed the remote and tossed it on the coffee table. He fed Oswald and paid the TV no mind until he heard;
“We’re live outside the Van Dahl mansion. As you can see behind me, the Van Dahls’ annual Halloween costume gala is in full swing but we have come in search of a bigger story. You see, there has been quite a lot of gossip that the Van Dahl’s son and heir, a young man named Elijah, has gone missing. Sources close to the family say that Elijah has not been seen or heard from in over 8 months. However, we contacted the GCPD and so far, no missing report has been filed.”
“No press! No press!” The shouting came only a moment before Frederick came into the camera’s view. “This is a private party!”
The reporter recovered quickly.   “ Mr. Van   Dahl, I can assure you that we aren’t here to crash your party. But many people are saying that your son has gone missing. Do you know where your son is?”
As Elijah waited eagerly for his father to answer the question, Oswald fussed in his arms. He looked down to discover that the baby had finished his meal. He put the bottle down and transferred his son to his shoulder for a burp. Elijah looked back to the TV. “Come on, now’s your chance. For once, tell the truth!”
Meanwhile, on the TV screen, Frederick laughed.  “My son isn’t missing. Elijah’s in Europe studying the latest fashion trends. In fact, I just got a call from him the other day, saying that he’s going to extend his stay.”
The reporter looked confused. “But what about the rumour that some say Elijah has been spotted right here in Gotham doing odd jobs?”
Frederick shrugged. “Like you said, rumours.”
“And his romance with Constance Van Groot?”
“100% true. Of course, the engagement must pushed back a bit until Elijah’s return.”
“So, there’s a engagement        in the near future?” The reporter seemed excited.
Frederick smiled. “Of course.”
They went on but Elijah had stopped listening.  Bastard! He thought while he rubbed his son’s small back. You lying bastard.
10 minutes later, he had just put Oswald to bed when he heard the door.
“I got the diapers.” Gertrud informed him when they met in the hall.
“Want to tell me why you sound so bummed about it?”
“I saw the news.”
“So did I.”
“Elijah, I’m so sorry.”
He shrugged.  “Don’t be. I’m not the one lying to people and promising an engagement that will never happen.”
“You’re not even upset?”
“Nope. I’m exactly where I need to be.  I’m exactly where I want to be.” He reassured her with a kiss.
It may not have bothered him, but it bothered Gertrud. Later, she cuddled up against him in bed. “I have an idea,” she whispered “how about when Oswald gets a little older, we start our own family Halloween traditions?”
Elijah turned, put an arm around his wife and smiled. “Mrs. Cobblepot, you have a deal.”
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gettinglitpod-blog · 8 years ago
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Episode 10 - The Boxcar Children
It’s a very special episode of Getting Lit!
Our friend Bri comes to visit, and we spend about an hour shitting all over precious childhood memories. Join us, won't you?
We review the Boxcar Children by Gertrude Chandler Warner.
SWEET MONEY GRANDPA, GATHER US IN YOUR STRONG ARMS
Praise us! Haze us! Send us requests for book reviews! Have a question? We’ll answer it on next month’s episode!
Facebook : https://www.facebook.com/gettinglitpodcast/
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Twitter : @GettingLitPod
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courtneytincher · 5 years ago
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What if he dies? &c.
For years now, some of us have said, “It’s amazing he’s still alive.” We’re talking about Alexei Navalny, the leader of the Russian opposition. (The previous such leader, Boris Nemtsov, was murdered within sight of the Kremlin in 2015.) Over and over, Navalny has been attacked -- physically, that is. In the past few days, it is possible he has been the victim of a poison attack.They’re not shy about poisoning, Putin’s guys. (For a story about Navalny, go here.)A question: What if Navalny dies? What will the reaction of the rest of the world be, and of the United States in particular? (Years ago, we enjoyed the designation “Leader of the Free World.”) Will there be a shrug, as in the murder of Jamal Khashoggi? A statement of regret from the State Department? Something a bit sterner, possibly?Will a mouthy, conscientious member of Congress say something?These are things to be thought of, even now.Last year, President Trump was asked who ought to be held accountable for the Khashoggi murder. “Maybe the world should be held accountable,” he answered, “because the world is a vicious place.”Next time, we will do better, I hope.• Here is a report from last week:> A prominent LGBT rights campaigner has been found dead with multiple stab wounds and signs of strangulation in the Russian city of St Petersburg.> > The body of a 41-year-old woman was found in bushes near her home in the city on Sunday, local police said.> > Relatives and friends later named the victim as Yelena Grigoryeva . . .> > Ms Grigoryeva, who had reportedly received death threats, regularly campaigned for human rights in Russia.They are possibly the most careless people in the world, these Russian activists. They keep losing their lives.• In this new era of strongmen, who will defend democracy? Who will stick up for it, even fight for it? Look to the streets of Hong Kong and Moscow, where democracy protesters are being beaten by thugs. I admire them no end -- the protesters, that is, not the thugs. Would I be among those protesters? Would you?For myself, I can’t answer with confidence.I wish someone in the United States would utter a peep for them -- not scribblers and yakkers like me, but an official. If it can’t be the president, how about a congressman, how about anybody? Someone willing to express the solidarity, or at least the best wishes, of the American people?He likes to keep a low profile, following the example of his ex-president father, but I nominate George W. Bush.• According to reports, the Iranian economy is in free fall. Hurray, I guess. But I must tell you something: One reason I prize Magnitsky sanctions is that they target individuals -- wrongdoers, human-rights violators, villains -- not populations at large.Will our sanctions on Iran backfire? Will they cause a pro-American population to turn against us and rally to their oppressive regime? I don’t know.But these are questions that policymakers always have to weigh (and I’m sure ours have).• The temperature is awfully high in America now -- I’m not talking about the weather, although the heat, in some places, has been rough. I’m talking about politics, and race in particular.This is only 2019. How about 2020, when the presidential election is in full swing? How much higher can the temperature go? Will America be able to take it, without combusting?For years, through the Reagan administration, Michael Kinsley predicted “a long hot summer” -- because people would rebel against the depredations of the Reaganites, essentially. The long hot summer never came. Kinsley, to his credit, joked about it.Anyway, I hope the summer of 2020 is on the cool side, but I’m not predicting it (especially having no training in meteorology).• For reasons I could explain, I went back to a book review I wrote in 2017. I covered two books, actually: a collection by Gertrude Himmelfarb and a collection of Kenneth Minogue. In this review, I quoted Roger Scruton, and I think I will do a little pasting -- copying and pasting.Here goes:> Scruton, after Minogue’s passing, wrote an appreciation, saying, “In many ways he was a model of the conservative activist. He was not in the business of destroying things or angering people. He was in the business of defending old-fashioned civility against ideological rage, and he believed this was the real meaning of the freedom that the English-speaking peoples have created and enjoyed.” Scruton also said, “For Ken Minogue, decency was not just a way of doing things, but also the point of doing them.”> > That is an unusual, striking sentence, worth pondering.Yes. I am thinking of David French, my friend and colleague, who has been attacked as -- well, too decent to be a real conservative, and to get things done. David was moved to write a piece called “Decency Is No Barrier to Justice or the Common Good” (here).David is a warrior -- in the courtroom, on the battlefield (the literal one), in journalism, and in still other arenas. But he’s not a jackass, which a lot of people resent.(I understand them, so help me. I touched on this in an article earlier this year, here.)• Look, far be it from me to comment on wine -- I have no standing. (Whines, yes; wines, no.) But President Trump tweeted, “I’ve always said American wine is better than French wine!”My feeling is: Maybe we give them this one. Wine. If we Yanks need to boast -- “where there’s never a boast or brag” -- there are other things . . .• Speaking of tweets, I loved one from Tiana Lowe of the Washington Examiner, formerly of National Review. She was reacting to a story headlined “Is it weird for adults to visit Disney parks without kids? Twitter fiercely debates.” She wrote, “I just cannot imagine having the energy to care if other people minding their own business went to an amusement park.”This reminded me of something George Bush said, a long time ago. (I mean Bush the Elder.) It went something like this: “One reason I’m a conservative is that I don’t toss and turn nights, worried that someone, somewhere, is having a good time.”(I realize that today’s Right does not consider Bush to have been a conservative. During his career, however, he was a right-wing monster, at least in the eyes of the Left.)• Care for a little language? Here’s a golf article from Reuters. The headline: “Koepka dominates one-sided bout with McIlroy in Memphis.” If you have “dominates,” you don’t need “one-sided.” That’s redundant.But I loved a phrase within the article -- one that is new to me: “. . . McIlroy missed a short birdie putt at the third hole from inside four feet and never recovered, his body language the only evidence needed that he was not quite on-song.”On-song. Must be a Britishism. A good one.• Here’s an old-fashioned word: moxie. More and more, I admire this, as one of the best qualities. It came to mind when I was reading this piece by Will E. Young, who was a student journalist at Liberty University. What moxie this kid had, and has. It’ll stand him in good stead as he journeys onward.• Some names? I have a new young colleague named Chris Tremoglie -- Three Wives. I said, “Ah, a bigamist!” This week, I got a letter from a man named Cinquemani. I said, “Thank you, my five-handed friend!” (He replied, “That would have made Grandpa smile.”)As regular readers know, I’m fond of names, and always interested in them, and I bet these two names have very good stories behind them, unknown to us moderns.• Every day, I hear talk of “privilege.” And, almost always, people mean the material. If I were the exhorting type, I would exhort all parents: Make your children “privileged” -- with good books, good music, good games, good humor, sound morals, and, above all, real love.• I saw a photo the other day and thought -- and said -- “Magazine-worthy.” It was snapped by our Molly Powell -- National Review’s Molly Powell -- who lives in New Hampshire. With her permission, I share it with you.A bit of New Hampshire on a late afternoon, with bee balm and daylilies gracing the stage:
from Yahoo News - Latest News & Headlines
For years now, some of us have said, “It’s amazing he’s still alive.” We’re talking about Alexei Navalny, the leader of the Russian opposition. (The previous such leader, Boris Nemtsov, was murdered within sight of the Kremlin in 2015.) Over and over, Navalny has been attacked -- physically, that is. In the past few days, it is possible he has been the victim of a poison attack.They’re not shy about poisoning, Putin’s guys. (For a story about Navalny, go here.)A question: What if Navalny dies? What will the reaction of the rest of the world be, and of the United States in particular? (Years ago, we enjoyed the designation “Leader of the Free World.”) Will there be a shrug, as in the murder of Jamal Khashoggi? A statement of regret from the State Department? Something a bit sterner, possibly?Will a mouthy, conscientious member of Congress say something?These are things to be thought of, even now.Last year, President Trump was asked who ought to be held accountable for the Khashoggi murder. “Maybe the world should be held accountable,” he answered, “because the world is a vicious place.”Next time, we will do better, I hope.• Here is a report from last week:> A prominent LGBT rights campaigner has been found dead with multiple stab wounds and signs of strangulation in the Russian city of St Petersburg.> > The body of a 41-year-old woman was found in bushes near her home in the city on Sunday, local police said.> > Relatives and friends later named the victim as Yelena Grigoryeva . . .> > Ms Grigoryeva, who had reportedly received death threats, regularly campaigned for human rights in Russia.They are possibly the most careless people in the world, these Russian activists. They keep losing their lives.• In this new era of strongmen, who will defend democracy? Who will stick up for it, even fight for it? Look to the streets of Hong Kong and Moscow, where democracy protesters are being beaten by thugs. I admire them no end -- the protesters, that is, not the thugs. Would I be among those protesters? Would you?For myself, I can’t answer with confidence.I wish someone in the United States would utter a peep for them -- not scribblers and yakkers like me, but an official. If it can’t be the president, how about a congressman, how about anybody? Someone willing to express the solidarity, or at least the best wishes, of the American people?He likes to keep a low profile, following the example of his ex-president father, but I nominate George W. Bush.• According to reports, the Iranian economy is in free fall. Hurray, I guess. But I must tell you something: One reason I prize Magnitsky sanctions is that they target individuals -- wrongdoers, human-rights violators, villains -- not populations at large.Will our sanctions on Iran backfire? Will they cause a pro-American population to turn against us and rally to their oppressive regime? I don’t know.But these are questions that policymakers always have to weigh (and I’m sure ours have).• The temperature is awfully high in America now -- I’m not talking about the weather, although the heat, in some places, has been rough. I’m talking about politics, and race in particular.This is only 2019. How about 2020, when the presidential election is in full swing? How much higher can the temperature go? Will America be able to take it, without combusting?For years, through the Reagan administration, Michael Kinsley predicted “a long hot summer” -- because people would rebel against the depredations of the Reaganites, essentially. The long hot summer never came. Kinsley, to his credit, joked about it.Anyway, I hope the summer of 2020 is on the cool side, but I’m not predicting it (especially having no training in meteorology).• For reasons I could explain, I went back to a book review I wrote in 2017. I covered two books, actually: a collection by Gertrude Himmelfarb and a collection of Kenneth Minogue. In this review, I quoted Roger Scruton, and I think I will do a little pasting -- copying and pasting.Here goes:> Scruton, after Minogue’s passing, wrote an appreciation, saying, “In many ways he was a model of the conservative activist. He was not in the business of destroying things or angering people. He was in the business of defending old-fashioned civility against ideological rage, and he believed this was the real meaning of the freedom that the English-speaking peoples have created and enjoyed.” Scruton also said, “For Ken Minogue, decency was not just a way of doing things, but also the point of doing them.”> > That is an unusual, striking sentence, worth pondering.Yes. I am thinking of David French, my friend and colleague, who has been attacked as -- well, too decent to be a real conservative, and to get things done. David was moved to write a piece called “Decency Is No Barrier to Justice or the Common Good” (here).David is a warrior -- in the courtroom, on the battlefield (the literal one), in journalism, and in still other arenas. But he’s not a jackass, which a lot of people resent.(I understand them, so help me. I touched on this in an article earlier this year, here.)• Look, far be it from me to comment on wine -- I have no standing. (Whines, yes; wines, no.) But President Trump tweeted, “I’ve always said American wine is better than French wine!”My feeling is: Maybe we give them this one. Wine. If we Yanks need to boast -- “where there’s never a boast or brag” -- there are other things . . .• Speaking of tweets, I loved one from Tiana Lowe of the Washington Examiner, formerly of National Review. She was reacting to a story headlined “Is it weird for adults to visit Disney parks without kids? Twitter fiercely debates.” She wrote, “I just cannot imagine having the energy to care if other people minding their own business went to an amusement park.”This reminded me of something George Bush said, a long time ago. (I mean Bush the Elder.) It went something like this: “One reason I’m a conservative is that I don’t toss and turn nights, worried that someone, somewhere, is having a good time.”(I realize that today’s Right does not consider Bush to have been a conservative. During his career, however, he was a right-wing monster, at least in the eyes of the Left.)• Care for a little language? Here’s a golf article from Reuters. The headline: “Koepka dominates one-sided bout with McIlroy in Memphis.” If you have “dominates,” you don’t need “one-sided.” That’s redundant.But I loved a phrase within the article -- one that is new to me: “. . . McIlroy missed a short birdie putt at the third hole from inside four feet and never recovered, his body language the only evidence needed that he was not quite on-song.”On-song. Must be a Britishism. A good one.• Here’s an old-fashioned word: moxie. More and more, I admire this, as one of the best qualities. It came to mind when I was reading this piece by Will E. Young, who was a student journalist at Liberty University. What moxie this kid had, and has. It’ll stand him in good stead as he journeys onward.• Some names? I have a new young colleague named Chris Tremoglie -- Three Wives. I said, “Ah, a bigamist!” This week, I got a letter from a man named Cinquemani. I said, “Thank you, my five-handed friend!” (He replied, “That would have made Grandpa smile.”)As regular readers know, I’m fond of names, and always interested in them, and I bet these two names have very good stories behind them, unknown to us moderns.• Every day, I hear talk of “privilege.” And, almost always, people mean the material. If I were the exhorting type, I would exhort all parents: Make your children “privileged” -- with good books, good music, good games, good humor, sound morals, and, above all, real love.• I saw a photo the other day and thought -- and said -- “Magazine-worthy.” It was snapped by our Molly Powell -- National Review’s Molly Powell -- who lives in New Hampshire. With her permission, I share it with you.A bit of New Hampshire on a late afternoon, with bee balm and daylilies gracing the stage:
July 31, 2019 at 11:30AM via IFTTT
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duaneodavila · 6 years ago
Text
My Time In Twitter Jail
It was only a brief stay, and the time of it couldn’t have been better. You see, I go to sleep at exactly the right time for me, but probably somewhat earlier than a lot of other people. I also tend to shut down the computer after dinner and not turn it back on until the following morning, when I awake at around 5 a.m.
That means that there is a period of time during which others are busy defending their feelings idiocy honor on twitter while I’m dreaming of world peace and other happy things. When I finally checked my email, I learned that I had been in twitter jail.
What twits did the twitter gods demand I delete?
The twit was from July 1st, and included a quoted twit of another person gleefully proud of putting two young girls into “fuck Trump” t-shirts. It was sufficiently controversial that Snopes tried to investigate whether it was a real pic. It was of concern to me as it reflected the extreme of anger on the part of certain parents so as to compromise their children by putting them in such a needlessly vulgar shirt.
Twitter demanded I delete the twit, which didn’t concern me. It was already about 6 weeks old, and the lifespan of a twit is a few days at best. I didn’t care, and deleting it raised no problems for me. But what I learned was that I had already served my sentence for being twitter-bad for this TOS violation for reasons that completely elude me. Upon deletion, I was free to twit, having paid my dues to society twitter.
I let my friend Ken know about my brief imprisonment, so brief that I never got to break rocks into stones or even plan to dig a tunnel under the wall. He twitted in support of my freedom.
So Twitter has locked @ScottGreenfield for a rather mild critique of someone putting their kids in “fuck Trump” t-shirts. Remember: this isn’t a public space. You’re in a disturbed person’s house, and they may throw you out for erratic reasons. Good work, @TwitterSafety @Jack
It wasn’t that Ken was a fan of my twit, which he thought was me being my curmudgeonly self, but he similarly found my lock out to be arbitrary and capricious. Not that twitter CEO Jack Dorsey isn’t entitled to be arbitrary on his private platform, but it’s frowned upon by many people.
Ken’s twit was, as his usually are, retwitted by many. He’s got a great many followers on twitter, as he well deserves. He’s informative, illuminating, and far more funny and hip than someone like me. There were also some replies to his twit, which appeared in my timeline.
Scott is a little get-off-my-lawn for my tastes, but if old people are allowed on twitter, some allowance ought to be made for them being old people.
— Filthy Wish Dragon (@wqsaves) August 17, 2018
I’m not entirely clear on what “get-off-my-lawn” means, other than old person sensibilities that aren’t shared by the young set. Maybe someone can explain this to me using words that an old man can understand. I looked it up at Urban Dictionary, but didn’t find the definition helpful.
Then there were the empathetic twits of support.
I follow Scott. Scott’s not always charming. He can be an ass, but who’s perfect? I don’t like his politics. I do like his take on the law, most of the time. I don’t want to live in an echo chamber.
I’ve seen a lot of bad shit on Twitter. Scott hasn’t been part of the problem.
— jozian (@jozian) August 17, 2018
This struck me as more curious. I asked Ken about it, and he explained it to me as nothing more than someone expressing their honest view of another person.
Do you shrink at all from stating forthrightly your view of people?  No.
Well, that’s largely true, and I don’t doubt that Ken has a far better grasp of the sensibilities of digital natives than I do. But it didn’t quite sate my curiosity. While I had no clue who this person is, I didn’t doubt the sincerity of his twit or that he was entitled to his feelings as to my charm, ass-ness, politics* or take on the law, and to express them in a twit. There is no question as to his right to feel as he does and to utter his feelings.
What was curious was the need to Gertrude.** It struck me that as much as people agreed that my being put in twitter jail for a “mild critique,” was wrong, they couldn’t say so without prefacing their condemnation against twitter without first expressing their disapproval, perhaps disavowal, of me?
Perhaps I’m so despised that no support can be expressed without first clarifying their disapproval, lest their following conflate condemnation of the lock out with support for me? Perhaps this was sending me a message that some random person on the twitters feels I’m an ass so I change my entire worldview to seek their approval? Perhaps this is virtue signaling their disapproval?
There has always been a compulsion on the part of some to preface agreement on an assertion with “I don’t always agree with you,” which always struck me as silly, since there’s no reason why anyone should and there’s even less reason why it would matter to me. But this was far a more explicit, if incomprehensible,*** Gertrude.
My curiosity isn’t that someone finds me insufficiently charming, or an ass. That’s bound to happen, as I neither can please everyone nor have any interest in trying. Rather, my curiosity is why young people feel the need to Gertrude. Or, to be more precise, why they fear the absence of their disavowal will bring them disrepute or worse.
As for me, I slept through my twitter jailing, so it ended up not mattering beyond the fact that it happened for such an inexplicable reason. And as most people of my generation will tell you, dear young people, we neither strive to achieve your approval nor give a damn. We hope to pay forward whatever wisdom we’ve managed to accumulate, and leave it to you to decide whether to accept or reject it.
My generation doesn’t need our self-esteem bolstered by other peoples’ “likes.” Your grandpa doesn’t run his thoughts past you for your approval. This curmudgeon sees it disturbing that yours does, and that you feel it necessary to make your generational allegiances clear to your fans at every opportunity, lest they believe you to be of the wrong tribe.
youtube
*It’s unclear to me what anybody means when they refer to my politics. As I see it, my politics are wherever facts and logic take me without regard to political party or ideology. I suspect my refusal to be tribal means that I’m in the “other” tribe to young people, who can’t conceive of anyone guided by principles rather than ideology. I think that’s unfortunate. They may not.
**In classical Gertruding, it’s unnecessary to preface an assertion with caveats because they’re obvious and should not need to be said. It may not be obvious that I’m uncharming and an ass, so this may not fit within the classical Gertruding paradigm.
***Expressions such as “you’re an ass” or “you’re a dick” are prevalent among young people, but have no actual meaning to someone of my generation. Calling a name provides no information. Then again, when they try to explain, they usually fail miserably due to their incapacity to express themselves in rational terms. I’m probably being a dick saying so, but who knows?
My Time In Twitter Jail republished via Simple Justice
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