#this was the last time I will spend all my resources to get a Barb card

[misc-obeyme]

I am speechless. Is this what angel!Barbatos would look like?

[inklessletter]

I don’t know if this makes any sense to you, but I’ve been having thoughts about Steve and Eddie, as characters, (I mean who am I kidding, they live rent free in my mind now) and I’ve noticed a conceptual parallel between both of them that I can’t unsee now.

I’ve read several analyses and opinions about how Eddie was created and inserted in the story as some sort of substitute for Steve because they needed his death for Dustin’s arch, but they didn’t really want to kill Steve because he’s one of the series’ icons now. This has been used in the show several times now, with Barb’s death, and Bob’s, and Billy’s, so I buy it (if I think that it’s a lazy resource to make your characters evolve or if it’s lacking originality when you do it four times now, is something I won’t approach here, ahem). It fucked me up because I rewatched the last season a couple times now and I see it. I can’t not see it anymore. I can see the conceptual similarities (the age, the fact that he’s some sort of outsider to the group, the reputation, Dustin’s undeniable affection and respect…) but there is a particular feature that I noticed recently that has broken me, because it’s so fucking meta.

Speaking in general terms of course, most people I know that have watched the show like Steve, but they didn’t like him in S1, which, understandable; the writing in S1 didn’t make it easy for the audience to stand by him. Steve’s got several characters against him (Barb is the sweet victim, Mike is a clear protagonist, Jonathan is the direct rival as a love interest for Nancy), and if those characters, that are written and shown to be reliable, you instantly believe them, that he’s King Steve, that he’s a jerk. He goes with Carol and Tommy that are straight up bullies, he makes questionable decisions about how to face certain situations (such as breaking Jonathan’s camera [that I know it’s controversial, but personally, I totally, totally get why he did it], the slut thing in the cinema board, the fist fight…) so yeah, it’s easy that you go along with the thinking that he’s sort of not worth it. But here’s the thing, Steve spends the whole season trying to make up for his mistakes, trying to fix what he broke. He buys Jonathan a brand new camera, he confronts and ditches his so-called friends and actually goes to apologize to Jonathan, and then to Nancy. So what we have here is what it is said about Steve vs. what Steve really does. Even at last, when he had the chance to run for his life, he came back to the house to do the right thing. Steve is a great guy, but he’s written for the audience not to think so.

They changed their minds in S2, apparently, when the writers made him more layered, more likable, and the audience lost their minds. He was absolutely loved now, a favorite. A sweetheart. A romantic tragedy. And they kept all those features in S3, but giving him tons of lines and screen time, and an iconic outfit, and making him the biggest ally in the whole show, and now you’re trapped because you love him.

But you see, loving him was a journey. The audience went from finding him kind of annoying, or straight not liking him to fall head over heels for Steve.

And the writers, bless their souls/fuck all of them, mimicked that affection journey in S4 with Eddie Munson, using Steve Harrington as a catalyst.

You see, Eddie has this very same dichotomy of what people think of him vs what he really does, the only difference here, the major one, is that the people who speak ill of him are not protected by the writing. So you, as a member of an audience, embrace the fact that what the whole town says about him is not true, and that he’s a good guy. They fast forward the whole process by setting Mike and Dustin by their side, that the whole Eddie tragedy is a simple wrong time, wrong place. I mean, there’s no way you can go wrong about judging Eddie’s character.

And here’s where it gets interesting.

Steve rejects the blind trust. 

Steve doesn’t like him. 

Steve listens to the rumors. 

Steve calls him the freak. 

But the season goes on and bless his soul he starts paying attention to what Eddie does, to who Eddie is, and ends up pretty easily rejecting what the whole town feels towards him. Because he sees him now. 

Because he’s been there.

It is such a wholesome phenomenon when you realize that Steve, who at first was reluctant to find him, gets protective of him, out of mere empathy. He never gets angry at him, or mistreats him in any way; if so, he brings him beer and cigarettes, he worries about him leaving Skull Rock since all Hawkins is after his ass now. 

He cares.

And god, he even thanks him at the Upside Down woods. He doesn’t thank Nancy, or Robin. He thanks Eddie, because he knew that back in the boat, Eddie didn’t have to jump into the water for him, the same way he didn’t have to go back to the Byers’ house once he saw the Christmas lights violently flickering, because in any way that was his business.

So he thanks Eddie, probably because Steve thinks that it would have been nice that someone actually thanked him to save Nancy and Jonathan’s asses instead of getting a relationship out of pity that ended up with him dumped a year later and a bunch of issues.

The season goes on and they talk it out, they both admit having believed what people said of them, but now that they know each other, they can actually see how wrong they were. They make a fresh start, and the story seems to get to the right point, the way it should have been between them if it weren’t for the absurd jealousy pretext. 

Now they both align with how the audience is feeling.

So, you see the parallelism here. Steve’s behavior towards Eddie was a straight up reflection of the emotional journey the audience had towards Steve. 

And this probably wasn’t intentional, since the writers didn’t know for sure how much love and admiration Eddie was gonna get before s4 was released, but the fun part here is that it is quite difficult to find someone who loves Eddie Munson that hasn’t loved Steve Harrington before. The process of falling for those two is exactly the same, and most fans probably are not aware that they have gone through the same emotional journey twice. And it makes sense, because it is familiar. But whether or not you are aware of this, after they enter the Upside Down, Eddie and Steve are linked together, and that you know, even if you really don’t know why. They are impossible to untangle.

So yeah, absolutely, beyond the screen time together and the undeniably flirty behaviors, their chemistry, their journey and their young history, steddie makes sense.

So, when they make Steve a vulnerable mess, expressing that his only wish as a character is to love and be loved in return, and have a future, they go and kill Eddie. And it’s heartbreaking, because he’s a character with orphan needs and desires, and he didn’t even get the chance to fight for himself, and no, I don’t mean the demobats. 

And in a deep part of our brains we fear for Steve, because they’re in an unfinished war, and Eddie’s fate could easily be Steve’s in s5.

But you see, what is absolutely mindblowing about this fandom is the fact that here is where they picked up and made something incredible. For months we have been rewriting, consuming and creating thousands of universes in which Eddie gets what he deserves, that is, a happy ending, not only that he lives, but that he ends up being happy.

If this is too much of a projection about the fear of Steve getting killed in s5, that I don’t know; what I know is that I’m not at all worried.

I know we can make it better.

[fiftheditionflipkicks]

why silvery barbs is broken

The Power

The crit-cancelling is a red herring - most single attacks don't do that much damage - and the advantage-granting is just a cherry on top. The actual strongest part of Silvery Barbs is in forcing enemies to reroll saves, as save-or-suck spells are just incredibly powerful in this game and Silvery Barbs makes them even better.

Consider a basic case:

Cast a strong save-or-suck spell, eg. Polymorph or Hypnotic Pattern.

Suppose the enemy saves. Then you cast Silvery Barbs and force them to reroll.

Let's really look at the resource expenditure here. The original cast cost a 3rd or 4th level slot (or higher! Disintegrate!) and an action. Silvery Barbs essentially lets you do that again, except you only have to pay a 1st level slot and a reaction. That's both massively cheaper and great action economy.

Compare and contrast Heighten Spell metamagic. A sorcerer with Heighten Spell has to pay 3 sorcery points to impose disadvantage when an enemy saves against one of their spells. Definitely more expensive than a 1st level slot, no matter which way you slice it.

Now, Heighten Spell has a single advantage in that it doesn't need any additional reactions. However, Silvery Barbs has a bigger advantage in that you only choose to spend it after observing that an enemy succeeded on the save. This is - again - massively cheaper.

So overall Silvery Barbs just feels straight better than Heighten Spell. (Poor sorcerers.) This should indicate that this spell is strong.

The Ease

The thing that really amplifies the issue is that Silvery Barbs is just very accessible. For a start, it's on the Bard, Sorcerer and Wizard lists by default, all of which can definitely find use for it.

But even beyond that, Silvery Barbs is a 1st level Enchantment spell, which means that literally anyone can just get a free daily use of it with Fey Touched. Any casting class will be able to use their own slots for more uses after that. And, last but not least, it's a 1st level spell - extremely spammable.

All this can lead to some really awful scenarios - suppose you're an enemy and you're fighting the party. What can you do against:

The wizard tries to Polymorph you into a frog so they can drop you into a volcano.

You make the save, but the wizard casts Silvery Barbs as a reaction to force you to reroll.

You manage to make the second save, but the bard now casts Silvery Barbs, forcing you to do it again.

By sheer luck you manage to pass a third time - so the ranger who took Fey Touched now casts Silvery Barbs a third time.

You fail the fourth save, are turned into a frog and get dropped into a volcano.

I have a cool name for this combo. I call it 'bullying'.

This isn't even trying super hard yet - it's a pretty plausible party composition - and already you would have to make four (4) consecutive successful saves to not immediately perish. This is a problem!

Of course, Legendary Resistance trumps all of this and is almost the only way for a boss to avoid an expedited death. But it's still not ideal - burning LRs is usually pretty expensive and often not viable, but Silvery Barbs provides a much cheaper way to force an enemy to make lots and lots of saves.

The Solution

So, what's the fix?

Many people propose just increasing the spell's level to, say, 2 or 3. I was in this camp at first, but I soon realised it doesn't suffice.

After all, no matter what level you make it, it's almost always worth it to use Silvery Barbs to essentially recast a higher level save-or-suck spell for just a reaction. Spells go all the way up to level 9, so even casting it at 5th level is a no-brainer if you're using it to reproduce a spell like Imprisonment.

My current proposal is simple. Add this clause:

If the trigger was a successful save against a spell and that spell's level is greater than the level of the spell slot you used, the creature does not have to reroll.

So you can't just use a level 1 slot to force a reroll against a level 9 True Polymorph. This isn't perfect - it doesn't account for strong save-or-suck non-spell abilities, such as Quivering Palm - but it's an acceptable minimal solution to me.

Either that, or just ban it.

(back to index)

[mypoisonedvine]

Hungry Like The Wolf | soft!dark!Ari Levinson x reader

summary: when you need ari’s help for a secret mission with the CIA, he expects gratitude from you— and he wants a lot more than just a thank you card.

word count: nearly 6.5k

warnings: smut (dub con/coercion/sex as bartering tool), oral sex (f receiving) and vaginal sex, overstimulation, possessiveness/very very slight yandere vibes?, some violence and gun use, mentions of human trafficking/warfare, religious discussions and traditions but not particularly orthodox ones, vague discussions of sexism and misogyny with implied religious background, overall just lots of global politics and all that fun stuff

(a/n: I went ahead and wrote the hebrew and arabic in english lettering because tumblr doesn’t support right to left text so just a heads up.  my arabic is very weak so I apologize if there are any errors.)

Taking a deep breath, you ran through your pitch in your head again.  Sure, you’d had plenty of time to go over it on the plane, but one last recitation couldn’t hurt, right?  Unable to stall any longer, you turned the knob and entered Ari Levinson’s office.

You’d heard he was good-looking but his appearance still surprised you; his long hair and thick beard made him look like he’d fit in with a rock band better than an intelligence agency, and his half-buttoned shirt put his Star of David necklace and muscled, hairy chest on display.

He must have caught your gaze trailing down because he smirked at you, making your cheeks feel a bit warm.

“Mr. Levinson,” you greeted as you looked up to his face again.

He greeted you as ‘Ms.’ instead of ‘Agent,’ but you let it slide since you were about to ask him for quite the favor.  When he motioned for you to take a seat across from him, you did so with a nod and a quick smoothing of your skirt.

“So, what can I help you with?” he prompted. 

This was the easy part; this was the part you’d rehearsed a thousand times.  “There is a group of trafficked women and girls who have been rescued from all over— Saudi Arabia, Yemen, Kuwait— and gathered in Riyadh.  We are working on a plan to move them to Cyprus and, eventually, Greece where they will be accepted into a camp there.  Maybe they’ll end up in the States at some point, if we can swing it, but… Cyprus is step one.”

Ari nodded, listening to your story with more patience than anyone else had so far.

“As you can imagine, it would be a lot easier to move through Jordan and Israel and use your ports, rather than go around through Egypt or Syria…”  He stared at you expectantly as you trailed off, and you cleared your throat before finishing:  "The CIA would greatly appreciate Mossad's cooperation in the movement of these refugees."

"How much would they appreciate it?"

You paused, unsure what he meant.  "Um, quite a lot, I'm sure…"

"I just mean that we have missions the CIA could be a useful assist for, too,” he clarified, interlacing his fingers and resting his hands on his lap.  “You guys have a lot more resources than we do.  If we help you out, is this going to be an allyship we can rely on?"

You swallowed dryly, pondering if there was a way to get out of this before you sighed and slumped down in your chair, leaning a little closer to him.  "Alright, I have to be honest with you: it's not really the CIA that's asking for your help."

"Then who is?"

"Me.  Just me.  I'm the only one who believes in this mission; I'm the only one fighting for these people.  The CIA won't help you because they won't even help me and I work for them."

He slumped his shoulders a little bit.  "Then I'm not sure if I can afford to say yes to you."

"Please," you implored, "I know I can't offer you as much as they can, but I'll do whatever I can to make this work.  Please," you repeated as you laid your hand over his, noticing the way his expression shifted a bit, "help me."

"I've been the one person fighting for a mission before," he remembered, voice a little softer.  "I know how hard it is to go it alone."

You smiled gently at him.

"And, I know how far I would've gone to get my people to safety." 

His hand flipped around suddenly and grabbed yours tightly, pulling you closer as you gasped.

"How far will you go?"

You shivered, the darkness in his eyes burning right through you even when you tried to look away.  "Mr. Levinson, I—"

"Call me Ari," he instructed gruffly, grip tightening around your wrist until you yelped softly.

"Ari," you corrected, "I have money—"

"Don't want it."

"I can offer you my assistance in—"

"Don't need it."

"Tell me what you need,” you requested softly.

"I need to know you're gonna show me this 'great appreciation' you promised,” he answered quickly.  “I need to know that if I take care of you, then you'll take care of me."

You gulped but nodded.  "O-of course…"

"Good."

He released you from his grip and stood up, smiling at you like nothing had even happened.

"Pleasure doing business with you, madam."

You stood up and left his office in a haze, unsure if what had just happened was a dream or reality.  But, sure enough, he showed up the next day where you’d told him to meet you, and brought some money and fake passports that you desperately needed.  Frankly, just having a man around was going to make things smoother for you, even if it was a white man who didn’t exactly blend in by any stretch of the imagination.  Seeing him again the next day only reminded you how big he was, tall but moreso heavy with muscle; he looked pretty cramped in his tiny coach seat on the plane to Dubai (your connecting stop where you’d spend the night before flying out to Riyadh).

“Bloody mary, please,” he requested from the stewardess with a gentle nod, turning to you.

“Uh, just water, thanks,” you ordered quickly with a tilted smile.  You had brought a book to read, but Ari insisted on barraging you with personal questions about your job, your personal life, your favorite things— he seemed fascinated by the most mundane things, and disinterested in giving his own backstory.  

Of course you considered that it wasn’t a great idea to tell him so much about yourself, let him in your head and under your skin.  But then again, you’d put your trust in him enough for the mission, so you ought to trust him completely, right?  

So why did his stare send shivers up your spine?

//  

There was room for you and Ari at a CIA safehouse outside Dubai; it wasn’t exactly luxurious or anything, but at least you weren’t going to have to share a room… or a bed.

Normally staying in a safehouse meant sharing common areas with a random assortment of other agents, but it being a Friday night in Dubai meant they were all out enjoying the local nightlife while you two stayed in.  Hoping to review a game plan for the mission with him, you found Ari’s door open, peeking around to see him on his knees on the floor, a candle burning before him, and his hands raised to cover his eyes and face.

“Shema Yisrael,” he sung to himself below his breath, “Adonai Eloheinu, Adonai Ehad…”

He jumped a little when he uncovered and opened his eyes only to find you standing there.  “Shabbat Shalom,” you greeted.

“Shabbat Shalom,” he nodded back.  

“I’m sorry you’re forced to take your Shabbat alone,” you apologized, “and that there’s nobody other than me to appreciate your vocal chops.”

His cheeks tinged pink at that.  “It’s all part of the sacrifices we make for our missions, eh?”

“Then I suppose you don’t mind that you’ll be doing plenty of work tomorrow,” you presumed.

“You probably realized by now that I’m not actually so traditional,” he chuckled, extinguishing the candle and standing up.  “I work on the sabbath quite a lot.”

“I hear work is permitted if it is needed to save a life.”

He smiled, but he looked a little sad; maybe not sad, but tired.  “With me, it always is.”

The silence was thick as you tried to reconcile that this was the same man that had grabbed and threatened you— was it a threat?  You couldn’t even tell anymore.  Apparently he wasn’t going to take whatever it was that he wanted until you’d finished the mission, and that should’ve made it easier to procrastinate your worry, but the extra time to ponder what it was actually going to be only brought further anxiety.

Of course, you had an idea of what he was going to ask of you, but the fact that nothing too untoward had happened in his office when you first met him was throwing you off.  In that moment, you were just waiting for him to tell you to get on your knees and show him how bad you wanted these women rescued, but he didn’t.  Wouldn’t have been the first time somebody tried to bribe you into sex; it would’ve been the first time, however, that you actually considered doing it.

Now, the anticipation just made it worse; you were working with him every day and he always acted normal, as if there wasn’t this looming threat of whatever favor he was going to ask from you in return.

Once you actually got to work the next day, it was easier not to think about that.  You barely had any extra brainpower to think about anything except survival and extraction.  Still, each time you looked at him only to find him already looking at you, your hands shook a little.

//

“You’ve been driving for 10 hours, you’re sure you don’t want me to take the wheel?” you offered, watching him blink a few times to clear his vision.

“Not worth getting arrested,” he frowned.

“We’ll only get arrested if we get caught.”

“Not worth the risk of getting caught.  And I don’t know about you, but if I get arrested here, I’ll probably be killed, too.”

You chewed your lip as you appreciated that it was probably worth avoiding as much trouble as possible.  It’s not like the CIA was popular in these parts, either, and for good reason.

“What’s that up ahead?” he asked, leaning further forward against the steering wheel and squinting.

“Um,” you stalled as you unfolded the paper map in your lap, “I’m… not sure.”

“Looks like a barricade,” he announced, and it did; a gate with two guards and barbed wire on either side.

“There isn’t supposed to be a stop here,” you reminded him as you frantically shuffled around the map, making sure you were where you thought you were and that there wasn’t a mark indicating a vehicle stop on the road.

“What do we do?” he asked, looking around as if he was considering veering off the path even though that would be equally dangerous.

“There isn’t supposed to be a stop here,” you repeated, more anxiously.

“Well, there is,” he replied, his own agitation clearly increasing, “so we’ll have to go through it.”

“They’re going to pull us over.”

“Probably,” he admitted.

“And they will search the back of the truck.”

“I’d be surprised if they didn’t.  How well do you think they’re gonna take it when they see eighty-something women packed like sardines?”

You chuckled a little even though you were anything but amused.  “Um, not good.”

As the men at the stop waved to signal your car to slow down, Ari sighed a little.  "I'll ask once again: what do we do?"

"Act natural," you suggested quickly as you lifted the scarf draped around your head to cover your nose and mouth.

Ari slowed down to a stop, lowering the window to talk to the officer outside and putting on a fake English accent.  “How can I help you, sir?”

“Identification please,” he requested sternly.  Ari smiled as he grabbed his and your passports, handing them over through the window.  It was a long, awkward moment as he flipped through the thick papers slowly, his partner leaning down to look through your window but never taking his hands off his gun.  “What brings you out here?” the man finally asked.

“My wife and I operate a restaurant in Jordan, and we get most of our equipment here because the workmanship is better,” Ari explained.  “Just passing through with our new stoves and oven hood.”

The officer glanced back over your truck, his expression mostly unreadable but overall not necessarily friendly-looking.  “Could you step out of the vehicle please?”

“Hal hdha daruri?” you asked quickly; Is this necessary?

“Alsamt,” he replied in a hiss; Silence.

Ari looked around like he was thinking but nodded and reached for the handle to his door.  You did the same, the second guard stepping out of your way so you could swing open the rusted metal and step out.

The men guided for you to circle the car with them, stopping at the back and staring at the metal sliding door that was latched shut.

Turning to address Ari, the guard’s face dropped completely as he got a bit more serious.  “What am I going to find in your vehicle?”

“Kitchen supplies, like I said,” Ari insisted.

As the officer reached for the latch on the back of the truck, Ari shot you a wide-eyed look and you gave him a quick nod.  He lunged at the second guard, wrestling him for his gun while you went after the first, who was much easier to take down with him being distracted by trying to unlock the back of the truck.  Your CIA instincts told you to shoot him once you’d grabbed his weapon, but thankfully you knocked him out with the butt of it instead.

Loud pops of gunfire beside you made you fear the worst, but Ari had managed to push the gun toward the sky before pulling it out of the officer’s grasp, swinging it wildly until it made contact with his head and he fell to the ground.

Gun in hand and panting heavily, Ari looked back at you with a grin.  “That wasn’t so bad.”

“You almost got shot,” you reminded him.

“A little more than almost,” he corrected, showing you a gash where a bullet had grazed arm.

“Shit, Ari!” you yelped, running over to him and inspecting the wound.  The way he looked down at you as you clutched him made you sort of regret it, though.

“It’s fine,” he assured you, but he made no effort to push you away.

“I… should check on the girls,” you decided, a little bit distracted but making your way back to the truck to roll up the metal back and examine the women inside, who looked scared at first but relaxed when they saw you.

“Kli shay' ealaa ma yaram,” you assured them that everything was fine, “nahn taqribaan 'iilaa al'urduni, wasawf nasil 'iilaa alsafinat allaylat.”  We're almost to Jordan and will arrive at the ship tonight.

They relaxed a bit and smiled at you, a few muttered ‘shukraan jazilaan’s (meaning ‘thank you’) echoing from inside.  You hated to shut the back and plunge them into darkness again, but they had assured you before that they would brave any conditions for a chance at freedom.  You hoped they meant it.

“Please, let me drive, you’re injured,” you offered to Ari as he started to make his way toward the driver’s side door.

“It’s not even that bad, and we’ve had enough run-ins with the law today,” he dismissed.

“Then let me patch you up first, okay?  Is that so terrible?”

He smiled a little.  “No, I guess not.”

And that was how you ended up leaning on him in the passenger seat, supergluing his arm shut, trying not to think about how his bicep was probably bigger than your head.

“You’re a pretty good medic,” he observed, speaking quietly since you were so close.

“When you’re as clumsy as I am, you have to be,” you responded, sounding monotone due to focusing mostly on your work.  “It shouldn’t scar too—”

You stopped when you looked up at him, because the way he was staring back down at you made you completely devoid of the ability to speak or even conjure words in your mind.  You’d never seen him so close before and those piercing blue eyes made your head spin.

“What were you gonna say?” he asked softly, 

“It… shouldn’t scar too bad,” you finished, “as long as you keep it clean and dry.”

“I generally aim to keep my entire body clean and dry,” Ari chuckled.

“Right, yeah, well— keep up the good work, then,” you stammered as you wrapped some gauze around his arm and rolled his sleeve back down over it.

“Let’s hit the road before we waste any more time,” he suggested, and with a nod you leaned back into your seat.

//

The radio blasting was the only thing keeping both of you awake as you drove through the dark.  The border to Jordan was easy enough, and both of you sighed with relief as you crossed into Israel.  It was by far the biggest blockade you’d seen so far, but of course, Ari got you in faster than you’d moved through anything else.

“Good to be home?” you asked when you saw Ari smiling as he looked around at the streetlights through the windshield.

“You could say that,” he answered.  “Think we have time to stop for falafel before we get to the port?”

“Not unless you plan on buying for all your passengers,” you laughed, motioning toward the back.  “If they have to wait until we reach the ship, so do we.”

“Yeah, that’s fair,” he relented.  “Besides, probably better to be seen by as few people as possible.  Even if we’re in friendly territory, it’s still a covert operation and all.”

“Wow, so you do have some desire to play by the rules,” you gasped in faux shock.  He smiled and shrugged a bit.

“More like the rules and my desires occasionally overlap.”

It was past midnight when you pulled into the port, surrounded by ships so big that you couldn’t see the tops of them from inside the car.  A cargo ship was waiting for you, along with some Navy men who helped you escort the women onto the vessel.

Since it wasn’t meant to accommodate this many people, the refugees occupied extra crew space while you and Ari were given sleeping bags in an unused office; you were so tired, though, that it actually looked enticing.

As soon as you’d set your pack down and shut the door, you heard a distant horn and felt the ship begin to move.  You let out a long sigh as you leaned against the desk, watching Ari take a seat in the chair and start laughing exhaustedly.

“We did it,” you smiled, “we fucking did it.”

“We’ve still got a long boat ride ahead of us,” Ari mitigated, “but yeah… we should be in the clear, and tomorrow afternoon we’ll be in sunny Cyprus.”

You were so elated from the high of a successful mission that you forgot to worry about Ari’s vague request all those weeks ago; it was probably the first time you hadn’t thought about it since then, truthfully.  That changed when his smile fell as he looked up at you, eyes darkening a little and scanning your body.

“You’re a great agent,” he nodded slowly, “and an incredible woman.  You saved a lot of people tonight.”

You shifted nervously under the weight of his stare, but tried to hide your discomfort.  “I… couldn’t have done it without you.”

“I know,” he informed you coldly, standing up and approaching you.  “I think I’ve gone above and beyond on my end of our deal.”

A pit formed in your stomach, growing with each step he took towards you.  His eyes stayed trained on you except for when he glanced to the side to flip on the radio, American music suddenly piping through the speakers.

— discord and rhyme, I’m on the hunt, I’m after you…

You looked to the radio as well but his hand gently guided your jaw until you looked back at him; he was closer than ever, and you had to look up to meet his gaze, shivering as he ran his thumb over your bottom lip slowly.

“Are you good for your end of the deal?” he asked lowly.

And I’m hungry like the wolf…

You swallowed, hoping it would somehow ease the ache in your gut as you realized what was about to happen, before nodding meekly.

He smirked a little.  “Good girl,” he praised, only a bit louder than a whisper, as his hand moved to cradle your face.  “You want me, don’t you?”

Your brow furrowed as you tried to figure out how you were supposed to answer that.  “I want to repay you, for all you’ve done for me.”

“No, not just that,” he disagreed, “you want me.  I know you do.  You don’t need to hide it, we’re alone…”

Hesitant but catching on to his desires, you nodded a little.

“Say it.”

“I want you, Ari,” you whispered.  

It felt like forever waiting for him to kiss you as he leaned in slowly, eyes half-lidded and dark but never leaving you.  As his lips brushed against yours, you finally let your eyes flutter shut and reciprocated his kiss.  His hands felt especially big as one slipped behind your neck and the other rested on your waist; in fact, with the way you had to crane your head up to kiss him back, all of him felt big.  Including the part you were pretty sure just bumped against the inside of your thigh.

His kiss was soft and patient but determined, slow but somehow still moving faster than you were ready for.  You gingerly reached up and rested your hands on his shoulders; they were strong and warm beneath your touch, even through his shirt.  You couldn’t think of the last time you’d been kissed like this, or held so tenderly like this, but then again, you were also sure that nobody had scared you like this in a long time, either.  For a woman who always knew what to do in a dangerous situation, you couldn’t seem to get a read on Ari Levinson— mostly because you didn’t truly believe he was dangerous.  But maybe you should.

When his hands reached up to start unbuttoning your blouse, you pushed him back a little.

"N-not here," you protested, "someone could hear, or walk in."

"There's nowhere else to go, and I'm not waiting 'til Cyprus.  I need you now."

He kissed you again before you could respond, more forceful and desperate.  You let him work open your shirt this time, his fingers dancing over your skin as he pulled it off your shoulders and tossed it aside.  The feeling of him working your bra open made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, but his tongue slipping into your mouth distracted you and before you knew it, it was gone as well.  Your nipples hardened in the cold air— or maybe they’d been that way already, for whatever reason— but they reacted even stronger to his thick fingers gently pinching them as his palms cupped your breasts.

You gasped against his mouth a bit, your breathing getting heavier as he moved his hands down to your trousers.  The idea of being naked when he was still fully-dressed scared you, but you didn’t have time to think about that anymore when he pulled back to drop to his knees, taking your pants and underwear to the floor with him.

He looked back up at you with a mischievous grin as you cautiously stepped out of them.  After guiding you to sit up on the table, neither of you stopping to consider how rude it was to put your bare ass on somebody’s desk in a borrowed ship, he slowly parted your legs.  As he kissed a trail inside your thigh, you felt your hands clutch the edge of the table tightly with anticipation.  You felt so exposed with his face right there, to the point that your cheeks were burning with embarrassment, and yet you couldn't manage to tear your eyes away from his as he leaned in to lick you teasingly with the tip of his tongue.

"Fuck," you shivered, feeling your inner walls quiver as he moved so delicately.  You kept waiting for him to really get into it but he was determined to stay gentle and slow, circling your bud for one glorious moment before stopping again.  "Ari, please," you whispered without even realizing you’d said it.

"What do you want, baby?" he asked darkly, his voice deep and gravelly as he ran his hands up the back of your legs.

Your begging whimper was so pathetic you could hardly believe you were hearing yourself.  "More, please…"

He dove right in after that, suddenly latching onto your clit and letting his tongue explore every fold, every wrinkle, every sensitive spot with thick, wide licks.  Your head fell back and your hands jumped to weave into his hair— that gorgeous fucking hair that had driven you halfway insane.  It was soft between your fingers, and in this light you could see the touches of red, blonde, and maybe even grey scattered into the brunette.  Better yet was the way he moaned against you when you accidentally pulled it, your hands clenching into fists against his scalp each time he sucked on your clit just right.

"Ari, baby, fuck," you groaned, feeling your hips shift a little as if to try to get more of yourself in his mouth.

Sensation was sparking under your skin faster than you knew what to do with it, faster than you had ever figured out on your own, and definitely faster than anybody else had ever managed.  You felt your body shaking and couldn’t suppress it at all, every part of you (inside and out) quivering uncontrollably.  It would’ve been embarrassing except that he seemed to be enjoying it quite a bit, egging you on with his tight grip on your thighs, and his deep moans that reverberated over your body, and the way his brow furrowed like it almost pained him to see you like this.  Your back arched so dramatically that he had to hold onto your hips tight to keep you in his mouth, but he managed to maintain what he'd been doing— in fact, he didn't stop even when you started to whine and cry, feet digging into his back as you tried not to explode from the overstimulation on your sensitive clit.  

"S-stop, s'too much, can't take it," you pleaded, looking down at him.

He looked back up at you with dark, dilated eyes that said 'you're gonna take it.'  His tongue lapped at you with renewed vigor, sending you tumbling over the edge again and again and again.

Tears were streaming down your face when he finally relented, standing up slowly and staring you down as he wiped his face with the back of his hand; your arousal had coated his mouth and most of his beard, too.  You bit down on your lip to stop it from shaking as he slotted himself between your legs again, slowly unbuttoning his shirt and smiling as he watched your gaze trail down every inch of newly-exposed skin.

You knew he was in good shape, because it was always obvious, but you still shivered a little when you were greeted with chiseled muscles, dusty-blonde hair, a few stray freckles and scars, and last but not least, the gauze wrapping on his arm where you’d patched him up before.  It was nice to see a piece of your handiwork on something so flawless, like how it must feel to design the frame that holds a Monet.  Your mouth was even watering as you followed the trail of hair down to where it was interrupted by his jeans, which were misshapen with the unmistakable outline of his neglected cock.  Either you could actually hear it throbbing, or that was just your heartbeat in your ears as he made a show of undoing his buckle and fly slowly.  

A breath caught in your throat as he slid the jeans down and kicked them off with his boots, his cock bouncing up against the bottom of his abs once he’d freed it.  You hoped to hide your intimidation, but you must have failed from the way he smirked and licked his lips as he stepped forward and pressed it against your stomach; you felt a little dizzy seeing the head of it reach past your bellybutton.  "That's how deep I'm gonna be in you, baby."

For all his delicacy and tenderness in everything before now, he must have had a change of heart; with a little growl, he pushed all the way into you with one brutal thrust, watching darkly as your head fell back in a choked scream.  He didn’t stop for very long, either, setting up a pace that was slow but unyielding, his length filling every part of you and then some with each slam of his hips into yours.

He grabbed your hair tightly and suddenly, pulling your head back to expose your neck to him.  He licked and sucked along your pulse until you were shaking against him, nails accidentally digging into his shoulders a little bit as you held onto him.

His lips trailed up to pull you into a frenzied, sloppy kiss, your mouth slack wide for him to explore however he wanted.

"Tell me how it feels," he growled against your lips.

It feels like my body is on fire but I like it.  It feels like you're shaping my insides to fit you exactly how you want.  It feels like you might split me in half before you're done with me, but if you stop now I'll fall apart even worse.

His grip on your hair tightened at your lack of response.  "Gettin' fucked too good to answer me, huh?  So full of my cock you can't even speak.  Is that right, pretty baby?"

You nodded as you buried your face in the crook of his neck, your hoarse moans and sobs muffled by his skin.  

"Aw, poor thing," he purred, wrapping his arms around your back.  His lips brushed against your ear as he spoke to you in a deep mumble, the bass of his voice sending shivers down your spine with each word.  "You don't have to tell me, I know how it feels… you're so wet that you're fucking dripping, your needy little pussy is clamping down on me like it's the end of the fucking world, and you're screaming for me so loud I bet half the ship can hear you.  I know how it feels, baby; it feels so good that you're already about to come for me."

You gasped as he pushed you to lay back on the table, hoisting your legs up over his shoulders; you felt a bit whorish seeing your legs up in the air like that, especially when he leaned to the side to plant a wet kiss on your calf.

Soon he was letting your legs slip back down to his hips, leaning over you and caging you in with his thick arms, watching your face as he started to fuck you harder.  His long hair was at risk of tickling you as it fell down beside your face, but it was that Star of David necklace that was dangling from his neck and swinging right in your face with every thrust.  Slightly annoyed by it hitting your face from time to time, you stuck out your tongue to catch it, holding it between your teeth and finding that biting down on it helped you cope with the slight pain of him so deep inside you anyways.

"Baby," he moaned, inspired by the sight to grab your hips even tighter and slam into you even harder.  "Fuck, I'm close," he hissed.  "Gonna fill you up so good, baby, gonna ruin you for anybody else, huh?"

"Yes, Ari," you whimpered.  "I'm close, too…"

"Go ahead, pretty girl, wanna feel how tight you get when you come— when I make you come."

Trying to hold it back only made it hit you harder, and as your moans grew louder and your body began to shake, you felt your walls flutter and flex intensely.  He pulled his necklace out of your mouth and kissed you suddenly; it kept you grounded as you feared that the rest of you would float away, lost in pleasure so thoroughly that you'd never come back to reality.  His moans mixed with yours as they moved between your tongues, and just when you thought you'd break into pieces if he didn't slow down, you felt his movements stutter and his cock pump inside you.  You couldn't feel the warmth of it because you were already so hot all over, but the way his cock swelled as he came was unmistakable and overwhelmingly erotic.

He broke the kiss but didn't pull away, catching his breath while he stayed inside you, resting his forehead against yours.  

After cooling off for a moment, he scooped your limp body into his arms and lifted you into his chest; you wrapped around him and let him carry you to the other side of the room where he set you down on the pallet sleeping bags and blankets.  You whimpered as he pulled out, his softening cock still big enough to make you wince.  The gush of warm, sticky come made your cheeks burn even if it also sent a dulled tingle of arousal up your spine.  He was gentlemanly enough to wipe you off with a towel, mumbling something about how pretty you looked stuffed with his come, but you couldn't really focus on any of that because you were still waiting for sensation to return to your numbed extremities— brain included.

He turned his head and laid it on your chest, and you found yourself absent-mindedly scratching his scalp with your nails.

"That's nice," he whispered, but you could tell that already by the way his skin was erupting into goosebumps, and the way he held you tighter.

You must've laid like that for hours, or maybe it was just a few minutes, but it was one of those moments that felt like a piece of forever.  He lifted his head to look up at you, pulling you down a bit so his face hovered over yours.

"What's next for you after you get these women to Greece?" he asked quietly.

You chewed your lip as you thought about that.  "Back to DC, I figure, and then wherever they send me next.  I hear they might want me undercover in Cuba or Russia…"

"How often do you end up in Jerusalem?"

You squirmed a little beneath him, but he slipped his arm under your neck and pulled you closer; how were you supposed to think with his bicep right by your face like that?  "Uh, not often, but if I'm in town I'll give you a call—"

"Come with me," he requested softly.  "Get to Cyprus, go to Greece, and then meet me in Tel Aviv."

"Ari, I can't—"

"Why not?"

You laughed a little, but he clearly wasn’t joking.  "Because I have a job?"

"You won't need a job," he shrugged, "I make good money and you can just live with me."

Your throat went dry as you stammered, trying to figure out if he had seriously just asked you to quit your job and move in with him.

"You'll like Israel.  You speak some Hebrew don't you?"

"Uhh, yeah but—"

"Then what's stopping you?"

You couldn't answer because you didn't even know where to start with all the things that were stopping you.  Your mouth opened and closed silently like a fish out of water, and he laughed at you lightly.  

"Just say yes," he encouraged gently, and your heart twisted as you wondered if this was part of the deal, if you needed to do everything he wanted to keep him on your side.  You were on an Israeli ship, sailing international waters; if he changed his mind now, he could still sell you out and have these people arrested or worse.  But he wouldn't do that, right?

Perhaps the more important question was not 'would he do that?' but rather 'are you willing to find out?'

"Yes," you heard yourself answer before you even realized you were considering it.  

He grinned, hugging you tightly.  He was already rambling about how great it was going to be and how he would spoil you all the time and maybe find a way to get you hired as a contractor at Mossad so he could bring you along on missions, but you couldn't hear it past the ringing in your ears. You desperately needed sleep, and his arms were warm and welcoming as you drifted off.  He kissed your forehead before letting his eyes fall shut as well, joining you in unconsciousness.  

The swaying of the ship was like being rocked to sleep, so much so that you slept for an uncharacteristically long time: you were just a few hours out from your destination when you awoke, in fact.

Instead of getting up and attempting to acquire some food, you laid there staring up at the ceiling as his heavy arm draped over your chest.   Even in his sleep he had power over you, refused to let you go.  You tried to remember how you'd ended up in this situation but instead you found yourself fantasizing about a chance at love.  After running around the world for so long, there weren't many good men left to settle down with.  And Ari was maybe not an entirely good man, but you believed him when he said he would treat you well.  You'd shacked up with a lot worse in your time, when you were young and reckless and thought the worst thing you could be was alone.  Still, a long-suppressed desire for companionship was awakening in your mind and you weren't going to swallow it back down this time.  Smiling, you lifted his hand to your lips and kissed his knuckles.  If what he wanted in exchange for his cooperation was your affection, you could do that.

[noblecrumpet-dorkvision]

Gamifying D&D Encounters

Encounters in Dungeons and Dragons can be fun, but how do you make it so the battle isn’t just taking turns repeatedly taking the attack action? How can you encourage players to move around and make meaningful, tactical decisions? My solution is to think about how to gamify your encounters.

What exactly does it mean to make an encounter more “game-like?” D&D IS a game, so isn’t it game-like by default? Well, yes. But here, I’m talking about turning encounters into puzzles or riddles for the players to figure out, or making players think about when to use certain actions and where to best position themselves. If players “solve” the encounter and “play” their strategies effectively, they will be able to more easily tip the encounter in their favor.

The way a gamified encounter should go is thus:

Creatures in the encounter take actions

Players identify threats or weaknesses based on those actions

Players take steps to mitigate threats or take advantage of weaknesses they have identified on their turns.

Creatures continue to fight, but are now less effective.

Players feel accomplished for their cleverness.

(Optional) Enemies then change up their tactics, learning from the players and increasing the encounter’s complexity. Repeat.

There are several ways to go about gamifying your encounters. You don’t have to give your encounters every single one of these traits, but adding two or three will help push the encounter’s depth.

Several of these use examples from two boss battles I posted, which can be found here: Ilesstra and Kormak.

Creating Patterns

Give your creatures, particularly single-monster encounters, some sort of consistent pattern for players to recognize. This way, the players will get stymied the first time, but then the next round will be able to react appropriately. Keep in mind that Medium encounters typically last 3-4 rounds, which means the pattern needs to be pretty obvious that it will repeat. Players may not even realize it repeats until the second round, which means they only have a few rounds left to seize the advantage!

Samples:

Ilesstra: Ilesstra’s lanes in her lair’s battle map can fill with poison from obvious pipes on the map. Once players realize their significance and effect, they can work out a strategy to avoid them.

Kormak: Powering up his crystal takes a noticeable cause and effect by taking an action to charge (making it glow) by powering down once its charge is spent (so it’s no longer glowing). Players can visually see when Kormak is hard to hit and about to hit hard and conversely when his abilities and defenses are weak.

Synergizing Abilities

Your encounter can involve synergy. This can be between two creatures and their abilities, a creature and its environment, or between a creature’s own abilities. Players should be able to pick up on this synergy so they can attempt to disrupt it to their advantage. Often, synergy involves one part of the encounter being in a sometimes-state, then another part of the encounter gets more powerful when the other is in that state. 

In fact, the encounter could actually synergize to the players’ benefit.  Perhaps a creature could freeze players in ice while another creature’s thunder attack can shatter the ice thunder damage. Players could try to coerce the thunder creature into freeing their trapped companions.

Samples:

Ilesstra: Poisoned creatures take additional damage from her, and her actions can poison creatures in her lair. Her pet can drag away creatures attacking her.

Kormak: His crystal enhances his minor abilities when it’s charged. His minions jump in front of attacks with reactions.

Alternative Targets

If you have meaningful targets in the encounter other than the creatures, players will be tempted to use their actions to deal with those rather than the creatures, which can create a dilemma. Players only have so many actions, so using them on a different target has to be worth it for them; it should give them a meaningful advantage to do so.

Putting an innocent life in danger or having a target that is making a boss monster superpowered is a valid excuse to change focus. The idea is to split the players’ attention between at least two things so that they need to evaluate allocating their resources or action economy.

Samples

Ilesstra: If a pipe in her lair is destroyed or plugged, it will create a permanent safe zone for the players that won’t fill with poison gas. Her pet crocodile is actively trying to drag people into the water below, which can prove bothersome.

Kormak: If Kormak’s crystal is destroyed, he can no longer gain temporary HP or empower his attacks. If his allies are slain, he can no longer defer the damage he takes.

Alternative Victory Conditions

Adding a new way to “win” the encounter will make players need to decide between attacking the enemies or trying to achieve victory through the other means provided. Types of alternate victories might include:

Escaping the Lair

Grabbing the Macguffin

Disabling the Doomsday Device

Rescuing the Hostages

Stopping the Ritual

Completing the Ritual

Defending the Payload

Destroying the Villain’s Power Source

Racing to the Finish

Solving the Puzzle

The circumstances will always depend on your campaign, but you can always provide a miniature goal inside of an isolated encounter.

Ilesstra: Destroying the pipes that emit poison gas will put an end to her main form of attack, possibly forcing her to retreat.

Kormak: Destroying his crystal will severely weaken him, potentially causing him to retreat.

Hotspots and Safezones

Everyone knows adding environmental factors to a battle map will make it more interesting. It gives players ways to hide, cover for arrowfire, and hazards they must avoid and use to their advantage. When designing an encounter, particularly for boss battles, try adding some areas that are harmful for the players. Perhaps there are lava pits with trapdoor grates above them that the enemy can open, or maybe the enemy has an area attack that the players can work around. 

The goal is to give players areas that they are aware are dangerous and areas they know are safe so that they can take advantage of it or plan their actions around it. Bonus points if the areas move in a regular pattern.

Samples

Ilesstra: Her lair has three lanes that can be filled with poison gas using her action. Players can hide in the small space between the lanes or in the water below the grates. An alternative strategy for players is to spread out and limit the maximum number of targets since she can only affect one “lane” at a time.

Kormak: His crystal is trapped by the magic circle surrounding it, and his minions can attempt to push PCs into it.

Vary Enemies

An easy way to make an encounter require more thinking is to use different types of enemies with different abilities. Players will have to consider strategies for each different creature separately, which makes things different. Perhaps certain players will be better at facing one enemy, but not the others, forcing them to adjust their focus.

Samples

Ilesstra: She has a giant crocodile companion that is inoculated and immune to poisons. While Ilesstra is more of a glass cannon with low hit points and AC but high damage thanks to poison, the crocodile is a brute that can grapple creatures away from its master and hold them in a hotspot area.

Kormak: Kormak is a spellcaster and controller while his Barbed Devil minions are brutes.

Additional Phases

Give your encounters multiple, distinct phases that they enter once circumstances are met. These might be when a certain number of enemies are defeated, when the boss drops to half their hit point maximum, or when an alternative victory condition is met. Once this triggers, the encounter changes in a fundamental way to force players to change their tactics. Essentially, you’ve added a mechanical twist instead of a narrative. The best examples are from World of Warcraft raids where the bosses will have different phases.

Discoverable Vulnerability or Strength

The creatures have something obviously strong or weak about them that the players can easily identify in one round. Once players identify it, they can attempt to take advantage of a vulnerability or dampen/avoid the enemy’s strength. 

A vulnerability might be taking damage from a unique damage type, a character flaw that can be goaded into a bad decision, a macguffin that holds all their power, or perhaps they simply have certain targets on their body that can be hit at +5 AC but for double damage.

Meanwhile an enemy’s strengths should hopefully be visible right away. Players should have a good idea what a given creature is good at or what its abilities are as soon as a fight starts, whether this means it was foreshadowed earlier or is revealed in their appearance or attack methods. Players know what to do against a glass cannon rogue and a tanky bruiser warrior or a controlling mage. Likewise, if they find an unknown creature surrounded by petrified humanoid statues, they will know to keep their distance in case they befall the same fate. Their insights should be rewarded and should influence their thinking. Players should never feel totally unprepared.

Samples:

Ilesstra: Her strength is primarily using poison damage, but she is physically weak. Meanwhile, her companion giant crocodile is mentally weak but physically strong. These are both readily-apparent.

Kormak: His crystal visibly charges to empower his abilities and protect him; destroying it will hinder his powers. His strength lies in fire magic, which he and his minions are both immune to.

Moral Quandary

Adding a question of morality to an encounter is a good way to make it not only impactful but also create more decisions for players to make. Perhaps there are innocent lives in danger. Do players risk their lives and spend their valuable action economy to save them? Or do they let them perish to optimize their mechanics and defeat their foe?

Simply adding a hostage or bystanders can do the trick for the average encounter. For boss battles, though, you can increase the stakes even further. Perhaps killing the villain will somehow make things worse for the greater good, giving the players pause mid-combat. Maybe the villain is related to one of the players, or has charmed someone the players love into fighting them to the death. Maybe destroying the boss will take more time than it will to stop their cultists from finishing their spell to open a gate to Hell, so players will have to ignore them and stop their minions instead.

Morality can make fights much more interesting because it forces players not just to consider their strategy, but also their values.

Summary

Basically, the thesis of gamifying encounters is to force players to change their tactics each round, but in a way that makes players feel cunning and smart. Take all these tips into consideration and try and make your homebrew boss battles and encounters special:

Create Patterns

Synergize Abilities

Provide Alternative Targets

Provide Alternative Victory Conditions

Make Hotspots and Safezones

Vary the Enemies

Additional Phases

Discoverable Vulnerabilities or Strengths

Create a Moral Quandary

[twdbegins]

could I possibly get Simon x fem!reader angst where Simon and her are in love but she doesn’t know the extent of what the saviors do to other groups and when she finds out she considers running away from the sanctuary and she feels guilty because she loves him so much but she’s horrified at the thought of what the saviors are capable of? thank u I’m in love with your blog so much

Of course! Thank you so much! :) Thanks for requesting!

__

How Fast It Can Change

Simon x Fem. Reader

Warnings: Language, Sexual implications.

Word Count: 2,582

“It doesn’t matter. You still did it.”

__

The Sanctuary was perfect. Too perfect. They had endless supplies, food, basic survival resources. Everything was well put together for the most part, and things usually ran smoothly. You had grown to love living here. You had made friends and acquaintances, as well as gained a lover along the way. You weren’t shy to admit that Simon sealed the deal for you.

The thought of spending everyday with him was enough for you to accept a full time commitment to this place. You had a nice bedroom, plenty of food, a steady job, and a social life of sorts. Having Simon as a boyfriend was the cherry on top. 

You had become quite the item around the Sanctuary. If someone saw Simon, odds were that you were close by, and vice versa. In a way, you were kind of like that one high school couple always running around. Everyone knew you were together, and no one dared to try and break it up. You fell in love quickly, and you were convinced there was nothing in the world that would’ve changed your mind.

His kisses were warm on your skin as he peppered your neck, stirring you from your deep sleep. You inhaled deeply, pushing him away for waking you so early. He had always been more of a morning person than you, so your response wasn’t surprising. His kisses stopped, and you almost fell back asleep before you felt him pulling you back to him and nibbling on your ear. 

You let out an annoyed groan, burying your head into the crook of his neck. He chuckled in a groggy voice. 

“Good morning to you too, baby.” He said sarcastically.

You huffed, wincing at the feel of his facial hair on your cheek.

“It’s so early.” You complained. 

“It’s 6:30.” He replied. 

“I concur.” You sneered.

He laughed again, turning to face the other way, but stopped when you whined in protest. 

“Oh, now you want me?” He asked as if he hadn’t just tried to shower you with attention. 

He brought you into his arms once more, content that you weren’t squirming away anymore. His nose was buried in your hair, and he was really beginning to dread having to get up soon.

“When will you be back?” You asked.

Simon was leaving with Negan and a few other Saviors for a “run of sorts” as Simon had explained it. Something felt fishy about it, but you tried not to ask too many questions. Negan didn’t really go on runs unless it was something major.

“Probably Thursday.” Simon replied.

Your eyes opened wider at that. It was currently Tuesday, which meant they’d only be gone for two days. Something was definitely up.

“That’s all?” You questioned, leaning up on your elbow to look at him better.

He scoffed.

“Well don’t sound so disappointed about it.” He joked.

“No, I mean that runs usually take a lot longer.” You pointed out.

Simon shrugged. Truth was, Simon wasn’t really 100% sure of what they were going to be doing. Although, he had a pretty good idea, and he thought it would be best to leave you out of it.

“It’s just a short run I guess. I don’t really know what to tell you.” He said, hoping you wouldn’t keep dwelling on this conversation.

There was a lot that went on around the Sanctuary that you didn’t know about. Simon saw all the ins and outs of how Negan ran this place, and had become very desensitized to it all. Simon didn’t really have a great radar between what was right and what was wrong anymore. Ever since getting involved with Negan, things had become pretty blurred. 

“You gonna stay busy while I’m gone?” He queried, changing the subject himself.

“Aren’t I always?” You wondered.

“When you’re not late.” He declared.

You laughed out loud, feeling much more awake now.

“Okay, so I’m late MAYBE once a week. If you didn’t keep me up so late then I wouldn’t sleep in.” You argued.

He smirked at that, sitting up to be level with you.

“This is the first time I’ve heard you complain about that.” He said, leaning to kiss you.

You kissed him back before he pulled away.

“Things change, you know.” You said with a nod.

“That they do, darlin’.” 

His alarm clock went off finally, signaling that it was really time for him to get up. He let out a growl, reaching to silence the screaming clock. He looked at you again, a devious smile playing across his features. 

“How about a quickie before I go to work?” He suggested coyly.

You hummed thoughtfully.

“Now who’s gonna be late for work?”

He laughed at your cheekiness, tackling you back onto the mattress, earning an excited shriek from you. He kissed you wildly, your hands roaming over his toned midriff. He hovered over you, stopping only for a moment to look into your eyes.

“I love you.” He purred.

“I love you, Si.” You replied before kissing him again and starting his morning off right.

Simon went to join Negan and his selected crew not long after, prepared for the next couple days ahead. You couldn’t pinpoint it, but the entire time that Simon was gone, you had a weird feeling in your chest. You felt like something horrible was going on, but you couldn’t identify what it was. Everything was business as usual around the Sanctuary, but something in the air was bugging you. 

It wasn’t until they returned on Thursday night that you discovered what it was. And it almost made you physically sick. A group of Saviors had passed you in the hall when you caught the tail end of their conversation.

“Negan apparently obliterated the guy. His brains were squashed out all over the place,” The first Savior claimed; “Right next to his wife too.”

“No kidding! I heard the first guy didn’t even make a sound when Negan “Lucilled” him.” 

You had heard that term before. Everyone knew about Negan’s famous weapon of choice. A baseball bat adorned with barbed wire. It was a nasty weapon that could do some serious damage. You had only heard people refer to it when talking about walkers, but you had a bad feeling that they weren’t talking about the dead. 

You stopped in your tracks. Surely...Negan hadn’t done that to a person. What did they mean by “the first guy”? How many people were involved with this? You did a full 360 and went back the direction you had come from, suddenly not interested in seeing Simon anymore. Your mind was reeling, and you caught yet another conversation from a different set of Saviors.

“It was brutal. My stomach almost couldn’t take it.” A voice that you knew to be Arat spoke out.

“At least it wasn’t another Oceanside situation. Simon was fucking nuts for pulling that stunt.” The older man she was talking to piped up.

You felt your blood run cold. What the hell was Oceanside? What did Simon have to do with it? You knew there was one person you could get some straight answers from. Richie was a pretty laid back guy. Never really got in the way, but was loyal to Negan. One thing you liked about him was that he always told it to you straight. 

As much as you loved that, it made the news so much harder. 

Turns out the “run” wasn’t really a run at all. Negan was scoping out a group in a little community called Alexandria. Negan had rounded them up execution style and brutally killed two of their members. Apparently, they had even taken one of them prisoner. Negan was going to start taking a portion of their resources for the Sanctuary and was planning on stripping them of all their weapons. Negan had even tried to get one of them to cut off his own son’s arm.

As gruesome as that was to hear, that wasn’t the worst of it. 

You asked Richie about Oceanside, and for the first time, Richie was apprehensive to answer. He almost seemed...sympathetic. Eventually, you squeezed it out of him. Part of you wished you hadn’t said anything. 

Richie said it was more of a rumor than anything, but that a few years ago, Simon had apparently wiped out an entire community in one go. People of all ages and backgrounds. Just completely disposed of them all. Negan had seriously considered throwing Simon out on his ass after that, but ultimately decided he was worth a second chance. 

You weren’t sure what was worse. The fact that he had killed an entire community or the fact that he did it without being told to. 

You left Richie in a fog, taking short and shallow breaths because you felt as if you were about to puke up everything you had eaten in the last three weeks. You needed time to process this, and you wanted to be as far away from Simon as possible. 

You returned to your room. You’d be sleeping on your own for the first time in forever. The moment your door was closed, you slid down the back of it and let out a gut wrenching sob, burying your head in between your knees. 

Could the man you loved so much really not be who you thought he was?

You didn’t sleep for the next three days. Words and disturbing images flashing through your head on an endless loop. You stayed away from Simon, Negan, Arat, or anyone that had been there. This was killing you to think that you were involved with a place that did these kinds of things. 

You didn’t want to be involved with that. That was so far from your moral compass that it gave you a headache. The thought of leaving crossed your mind in passing the first time. You could just get up and leave without a trace. No one would ever know when or why. Negan could find someone to replace your job. Someone who had more of a stomach for this sort of thing. There was only one thing keeping you from walking out right that second.

Simon. 

Despite how horribly you felt about this, you still loved him. Undeniably, you’d love him until you couldn’t anymore. He was the greatest thing that had ever happened to you...but you didn’t know if you could live knowing he had such a hand in the way Negan ran this place. You would never be able to justify the way Simon killed all those people. You wouldn’t be able to feel his touch the same again without thinking about what other horrid things he had done with his hands. You couldn’t look into his eyes anymore without wondering how many people he had seen take their last breath.

You’d never see him the same again.

It was hurting you. The thought of leaving him without saying anything. Knowing him, he’d go out looking for you the moment he knew you were gone. So, you decided to tell him, even if it hurt 100x more. Turns out, you didn’t have to go far to find him.

A knock on your door sounded out about midnight. You knew it was him before you even opened the door. You hadn’t seen him in days, and you hadn’t spent a day apart since you had arrived a year ago. It was only a matter of time before he came to find you. You took a breath before opening the door, to reveal a very worried Simon. 

You felt your heart sink into your shoes. This was going to be the hardest thing you had ever done. He looked at you through bleary, red eyes. He had been crying, and his demeanor told you everything he needed to know. 

He knew that you knew.

“[Y/N]...” He breathed out. 

You didn’t say anything. You fought the tears that were threatening to fill your eyes, you didn’t want to cry anymore. 

“I can’t stay here anymore.” You confessed, just above a whisper.

His fears had turned out to be correct. Every neuron in his body shut off and restarted it felt like. He was going to use everything in him, every nerve, cell, vessel, and fiber to fight for you. He couldn’t let you just leave.

“Let me explain.” He said, entering your room.

You closed the door slowly. You weren’t in the mood for excuses.

“You murdered them, Si,” You sighed; “You wiped them out like they were nothing.” 

He let out a shaky breath. He had no way to defend himself. Even he couldn’t defend what he had done.

“That was a long time ago.” He said truthfully.

You shook your head.

“It doesn’t matter. You still did it.” You said calmly. You couldn’t have screamed even if you wanted to.

He was at a loss. He really knew that this was probably it. He couldn’t even blame you for it. 

“And then you just watched...and let Negan kill two innocent people? And then allowed Negan to further traumatize that boy?” You asked incredulously; “He’s a kid, Simon.” 

Tears were streaming both of your faces now. You weren’t looking at him. Your head was lowered and you stared at the tips of your shoes. Your heart was beginning to crack. The more you spoke, the deeper it went. Your voice cracked in sorrow, and your head ached.

“The worst part is even after all that...I still fucking love you,” You admitted; “Do you know how messed up that is?”

He almost chuckled, but he knew better than to. It wasn’t an amused laugh by any means, but he knew what you meant. He walked carefully towards you, standing just a foot or so in front of you. You refused to look at him still.

“We can move past this.” He said, in a final attempt to get you to stay.

You looked at him finally, because you really wanted to read his expression for this.

Your heart panged in your chest

“Can we?” You asked seriously.

His hesitation and lack of an answer told you that he really didn’t know. The fact that there was any question at all was enough for you. You had to leave. You brushed past him to grab your backpack. 

Your heart cracked a little more.

You slung it on your shoulders. He wasn’t putting up a fight, because he knew it was over. You stopped in front of him once more, looking into his watery eyes. If nothing else, you wanted to give him a proper goodbye. Even if he didn’t deserve it.

You kissed him. 

It was deep and slow and full of hurt. It was the most painful kiss you had ever had. He knew it was the last time. He’d likely never see you again. Never feel your skin or wake you up in the mornings by leaving kisses on your neck. 

This was it.

You pulled away first. Not looking at him again. You had to leave now before you were tempted to stay. You walked past him and out your bedroom door, leaving behind your greatest and only love you’d ever know. The door closed with a loud echo. 

Your heart completely broke. 

You cried and cried as you walked out of the Sanctuary. One single thought running through your mind over and over. 

Things really could change.

[rainydawgradioblog]

a covidsation with mary claire

For the first Covidsation for autumn quarter, here is an interview I did back in May with Mary Claire, my dear friend and one of my favorite local artists. Mary Claire is a singer-songwriter based here in Seattle who makes “sad girl rock” (see: Mitski, Angel Olsen, etc.). I first met them through the DIY scene and was lucky enough to book them at the finale Red Room show, a house venue I used to live at and help run. As evidenced by the picture below taken that very night, seeing Mary Claire play live is a magical, mesmerizing, captivating experience. Often accompanied with minimal, but tonally-rich instrumentals, their powerful and hauntingly stunning voice paired with visceral, poetic lyrics transport you into another realm. I *highly* recommend listening to their album Phantom Limb, which you can find on your streaming platform of choice or you can snag a physical copy at Everyday Music on the Hill like I did! Last month, they also just released an incredible stop-motion music video for their song off PL called “I Don’t Like Drinking”, directed, edited, and animated by Barb Hoffman, which you can find here! Thank you Mary Claire for these thoughtful responses and for creating such vulnerable, beautiful art <3

Lola Gil: Tell me about your project. How has it evolved? Which artists are you most inspired by? How would you describe your sound?

Mary Claire: Hi hi I’m Mary Claire. I was never someone who was playing music since they were a little kiddo, it was something I picked up my senior year of high school. But pretty much everyone in my family has some amazing and weirdly specific aptitude for music, so I think being surrounded by that kind of allowed me to gather an eclectic, personal understanding, appreciation, and internalized feeling for music, so I never really took lessons or anything like that. I enjoyed and still enjoy that from the start, I was okay with the fact that I didn’t know “academic” theory and I just played with what feels and sounds right. And I still do that. So I played around with all those youthful punk feelings and had an angsty band in high school that was not bad for small town Sacramento. I think I learned so much from that and it gave me a flood of unhindered and unhinged confidence for recording, performing, maneuvering stage mechanics and technicalities, etc. Also it introduced me into the world of songwriting that I did for that band and for myself that just immediately poured out of me, which led me to what I’m doing now. I am extremely lyrically-focused and write mostly about lived personal experience that I surrender to and make extremely overly-wordy. I went from a solo act, to a bigger full piece crunchier band, to me and a piano player, back to a solo set, so I’m really just kind of evolving with my resources, the songs I’m currently living in and playing, and with what would bring everything to life most fully. 

I’m inspired by everyone, even if I don’t necessarily sound like them or listen to them all the time. Like, my adoration for incredibly angry punk music is what got me started in the creation of my own music, so that foundation will never leave me. Even though I won’t sound like IDLES or Shame or Pissed Jeans, their point of view and their devotion to cramming so many words into one breath is a place I also come from. We execute similar feelings in different ways. And though I currently am not anything like Yves Tumor, King Krule, or FKA Twigs, the layers in their stuff sends me so far. But I think lyrically and melodically, I pull inspiration from and sink most into Mitski, Sasami, Angel Olsen, Palehound, Big Thief, Bella Porter, Darci Phenix, Fiona Apple, Sufjan Stevens, Izumi, and Weyes Blood. 

Someone once said my tunes are “sad girl rock” and I think that sticks in a fun, quick way, so that’s what I tell people. But more recently, the stuff on my upcoming album I think is like a sad, fucked up, incredibly fast-paced nursery rhyme book (lol). I’m really excited for this album I wrote, more than anything ever. Also my good friend and twin flame Francis is helping me record it and is giving me a lot of knowledge and challenges and affirmations and inspiration. I owe a lot of this second album’s production and complexity him. There are a lot more people involved in the recording of this one, so it’s a lot fuller in a new and exciting and scary way.

LG: As an artist, how have you been affected by the pandemic? I saw most of your tour you had booked was unfortunately cancelled-- are you planning on rescheduling?

MC: Rescheduling feels so completely beyond me right now, so I am just considering it to be cancelled until things in the world really start to settle down to some degree of safety and responsibility. However, the silver lining in all of this ‘rona stuff is that it has given me a ton of time to recenter myself with my music and devote my own energy into recording and feeling the core of my upcoming album. I think when the world is moving so fast, it’s easy for me to feel like I’m behind, like other people are getting shit done faster and in a more “impressive way”, in a way that matters more or has more inherent value. So when we are all forced to stay at home with ourselves, not only does it remind me that all of those insecurities are completely not real and are in fact a delusion borne from a capitalistic-productivity-equals-artistic-worth-framework, but I also get time to actually enjoy and fine tune what I otherwise might have just thrown out into the ether desperately and prematurely in hopes to be current and up to date and ~with it~.

LG: Have you been working on writing any new tunes? Have you been involved in any other creative projects recently?

MC: When I was recording Phantom Limb, I wrote the majority of my next upcoming album, so while those songs don’t feel incredibly new, there is a ton of stuff I have yet to share and that I am so eager to scream to the world. It feels like some of the stuff I am most proud of making in my entire life. 

But since I left for Berlin to study abroad last fall to when I came back to Seattle this January, I really hadn’t written anything new. I think I had been going through a lot of personal and immense change and hard growth that wasn’t particularly inspiring, it just sucked and was intense and necessary, but sometimes all that bad stuff is not something you can just make art out of. Plus I had to just do something totally different and invest and surrender to techno and being a gross city Eurotrash gremlin and let that out cathartically. But recently, I wrote my first super new song in what feels like ages, and I’m so happy. I was afraid maybe I’d forgotten how to do it, but it’s pouring out of me again and I feel like me again. I have also been working a bit back and forth with a friend from the project World Peace. We just keep sending clips back and forth and weaving our separate projects together a bit, which is something I’ve never done and I’m having a ton of fun, especially because our music is so different. Besides that, I have some plans to work with another good friend Izumi after having adored them the moment I moved here. 

LG: How have you personally been dealing with the pandemic and the craziness that is 2020? What has your quarantine experience been like so far?

MC: I went home to Sacramento for a month and watched more TV than I had probably in my entire life. It was really good to see my family and siblings who I miss so much. But I came back to Seattle in April and since then have just been spending my days in a limbo of online school weirdness. But I’m so fortunate that I live with so many people who are all so unique, all of whom I feel are my best friends. So I definitely don’t get too bored:)

LG: What music have you been listening to during quarantine? What has been your go-to isolation album?

MC: Okay to be honest, when I begin to think of my next album and what it feels like inside of me, I make one single playlist with like hours and hours of songs on it and it’s the only thing I listen to for like a year. So I’m prone to listening to the same stuff perpetually forever and always, but I think I’ve always sort of been like that. It makes the feeling familiar. But since I’ve felt close to the sounds of my upcoming album for a long while now, I’ve actually pretty much been listening to what is my ~album 3~ inspo playlist, because I already feel that beast growing inside of me. I’m a planner. 

Most of the artists on those playlists are the ones I listed above in regards to who I feel are my biggest inspirations. But right when quarantine started though I would pretty much only play Man Alive!, I would just go through the whole thing and then restart immediately. When I was in Sacramento, my family had a rule I could only play it with headphones because it was literally nonstop, that’s just how I consume things; I take a bath in them until I feel every single part of what was made. But other than that, I’ve been bumping Peter Campanelli’s Pesto Baby and crying a lot about it, Darci Phenix’s (my best bud from Sac) Juniper Street which is some of the best songwriting literally ever, and Francis Farmer’s Bruised Fruit which is SO expertly recorded and thought out, I am so lucky he is my friend and wants to record my upcoming album with me.

LG: Arethere any spring shows that you were particularly looking forward to attending that got cancelled?

MC: Pretty much all of them imaginable. 

LG: How do you think the Seattle music scene is going to be like post-COVID?

MC: Hopefully, this can recenter us and remind us we’re all really really and truly in this together. It’s up to us to lift each other up and get each other on bills and spread the word and create community for those who need it most and for those whose lives rely on this art. Seattle seems like it is really good at that on a small scale, but once it gets to a little bit larger stage, it’s easy for people to forget where they came from, who supported them, and what should be at the forefront of our radars. I think shedding this cool guy persona and getting back to why this shit is so important and listening to/PROMOTING smaller artists who are making The Best stuff is something everyone could be reminded to do. 

LG: In this funky era of social distancing, how do you think artists can support each other during these weird and difficult times? How do you think social media is facilitating and/or inhibiting connection within Seattle’s overall creative community?

MC: I think people’s ability to make what seemed like such an immediate switch to social media music promotion and shows was really amazing. However, it makes me feel a bit hopeless and dystopian and sci-fi in a weird way. That being said, trying to resist the change has only proven to be detrimental to me and kind has come back to kick me in the ass. Like, I should not be turning down opportunities just because livestreams kind of freak me out in how foreign and disconnected they can appear to be. I’m no better than them, and it’s important I think to accept things where they’re at instead of pretending they’re not happening. 

That being said, I think everyone has been maneuvering with such grace and empathy and compassion for others in a way that I can really feel, and I hope that sticks around forever. 

- Lola Gil

[dailyaudiobible]

11/28/2020 DAB Transcript

Daniel 5:1-31, 2 Peter 2:1-22, Psalms 119:113-128, Proverbs 28:19-20

Today is the 28th day of November welcome to the Daily Audio Bible I’m Brian it is great to be here with you today as we bring another one of our weeks together to a close and then make the final push through the end of this month and into the next month, which is the last month of the year. But we’re here and we’re here now and our next step forward will lead us back into the book of Daniel. We’re reading from the New International Version this week. Daniel chapter 5.

Prayer:

Father, we thank You for Your word and once again we find ourselves closing down a week and looking forward. And once again in that practice, looking back, looking forward and being right here where we are, we get a glimpse of this thread of redemption that has always been a part of our story. You have always been here, and You are at work in our lives. Sometimes we want You to be at work in our lives and want some sort of instantaneous thing to happen when Your work in our lives is the work of transformation, of remaking us, of sanctifying us. And this is a process that takes place over time. And, so, we find ourselves at little places that mark time, like the end of a week or the beginning of a week and we take the time to acknowledge this, that things are happening. When we look back to the beginning of the year and we zoom forward until this present moment things are happening, You are at work in our lives. This is how it works. And, so, we open our hearts and say continue the work. Continue the good work that You have begun in us. Transform us so that our will, aligns with Your will, so that our desires are things that You desire. And, so, often when we say things like that it's about big things that we’re fighting, maybe lust, or greed, or envy, or whatever we’re fighting, but to have our desires be aligned with Your desires is that we look through the eyes of love at everyone that we encounter. Come Holy Spirit, help us to be Your image bearers on this earth we pray. In the name of Jesus, we ask. Amen.

Announcements:

dailyaudiobible.com is home base, it is the website, it’s where you find out what's going on around here.

And it's…I guess its officially Christmas time around here, the holiday shopping season, all of the stuff that goes into…into the season itself is upon us. And, so, it's the same here. I mentioned yesterday the Daily Audio Bible Shop is definitely full of items for the journey that we are on and there’s wonderful items there to give away and there’s wonderful items there to hold onto for yourself. And normally we have a Christmas box but with Covid and everything this year we decided it's better that we don't try to do that because it wasn't clear we could do it excellently. But we have the Daily Audio Bible ornament, the Christmas ornament that we make each year with the words of the year on in the year that it represents, and we’ve been doing that for a bunch years now and we didn’t want to not have that. So, we do. And it's just, make your own Christmas box this year. If you spend $40 or more in the Daily Audio Bible Shop, we will send you the 2020 Christmas ornament along with your order. So, check that out. That is going on right now while supplies last.

If you want to partner with the Daily Audio Bible in this season you can do that at dailyaudiobible.com as well. There’s a link on the homepage. If you’re using the app you can press the Give button in the upper right-hand corner, or the mailing address is PO Box 1996 Spring Hill Tennessee 37174.

And, as always, if you have a prayer request or encouragement 877-942-4253 is number to dial or just hit the Hotline button in the app, it’s the little red button up at the top and you can share from there no matter where you are in the world.

And that's it for today. I’m Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Community Prayer and Praise:

Good morning everyone from Budapest this is John, John in Budapest and the many of the longtime listeners will know me as Paul in Barcelona. I know we all have our fun nick names and mine is rather boring, but Paul in Barcelona has moved to Budapest and taken his middle name of John as his nickname. So, I’m John and Budapest now. Okay? And doing quite well with my Hungarian by the way. So, you know, also if anyone wants to follow me on Facebook look for John Ransom in Budapest. So, John Ransom. So anyway, that’s not the cause of this message, the cause of this message is to just ask for special prayer for both Brian and Jill but also the entire staff during these very frenetic holiday season days. And I also want to kinda do a shout out for someone many of the new listeners will not know – SJ, SarahJane in Colorado in the DAB warehouse. And they’re gonna be going through just craziness starting from now. And, so, I just want us all to lift them up in prayer, you know, that they would have all the resources they need. They’re shipping out all those goodies to all of us and…but they’re…it’s not just what they do, it’s who they are. And they’re just pillars of the DAB from the very beginning. SJ has, you know, was in the UK, formerly organized some of the first European meetings. I could go on and on. So, we just pray for you. I also want to give a shout out to Victoria Soldier. Victoria I was praying for you this morning as I had breakfast with Abba and I just love your sweet spirit and your powerful prayers. Blind Tony and so so many others I send you much love and it’s a pleasure to be on the pod waves again with you. God bless.

Hey this is the Prodigal calling in. Just listened to the pain and the heartbreak of Terry the trucker. He’s back out in his truck again because of this plague and I just beg God to let the devil take his foot off…off Terry’s neck and give him some peace, he and his wife. They’ve been together 32 years, a lot longer than me and mine. And he needs some comfort. And only you Holy Spirit and the Lord Jesus Christ can give him that comfort. So, please God I beg that You…sorry I just worked out…You give him some peace, some release, some grace. Shine Your light on him. Let him rise up and get back in with his wife and with all the losses and everything lead as normal life as possible. We’re all challenged, we’re all plagued. It’s part of the human condition these days and it doesn’t look like it’s gonna get better for a while. So, please just…I beg You’d help everybody who calls in with cancer and MS and divorces and loneliness and depression. Unfortunately, I’ve had all those simultaneously and it sucks. So, Terry I know how you feel brother and it broke my heart dude. So, I’m praying for you. Always love to hear your calls. And you keep on drivin’ keep on truckin’ brother and God’s there with you. He’s riddin’ with you in the truck. He’ll heal ya. He’ll help ya. He’ll lift you up. Praying. And only …

This is I am Blessed from Canada and I don’t call in very often, but God is prompting me so often to call in and I don’t know why I don’t. So, in the midst of doing my dishes right now listening to the prayers I thought, “here it comes again. God’s prompting.” And I’m not gonna ignore this time. I just want to let God’s Yellow Flower know that you are in my heart, my thoughts, my prayers. Praying for Keith. Love you and can only imagine how difficult this is. You bring a smile to my face. The talk about the pounding of the concrete. I wonder whether that’s on Cordon Avenue or Pembina Highway or I don’t know I’ve driven by so much construction lately and I think of my other fellow Winnipeggers like Nave. Where you these days? And I’m just so thankful that there is community out there. And I think so often as I drive down, “I wonder if anyone out here is a DABber?” And it’s just such a big part of my life and I just thank you Brian for that. And I thank You Lord for everything for You have done and that You’ve called Brian to do and his faithfulness and for the faithfulness of others that call in. It’s just so valuable. Thank you, Jesus for these people.

Hey there Daily Audio Bible family this is John from Bethlehem Pennsylvania I hope you are doing awesome. I wanted to say first of all happy Thanksgiving to everybody it is Tuesday the 24th November, hard to believe. But happy Thanksgiving. Happy Thanksgiving week. There’s so much to be thankful for. Family if you would be so kind as to keep a couple people in mind for me. We’ve got a good friend her name’s Jill and she’s on our worship team for our church in Easton Pennsylvania and she’s having some complications after having surgery…and…with some infection. If you can keep Jill in mind, that God’s amazing power and healing and mighty touch would be on her for healing and wholeness and health and peace and comfort and bring her through that, I…I’d greatly appreciate it. And then, if you could keep Pastor Randy and Maribel Landis in mind as well, they…they tragically lost…they’re the senior pastors for our church, Life Church here in the Lehigh Valley in Pennsylvania…and they tragically lost their son Randall who’s in his 30s last week. Pastor Randy and Randal, his son were doing mission work in the Dominican and his son got a mosquito bite and tragically died two days later of dengue. So, it’s a tragic time as it is for so, so many. I love you guys and covet your prayers over all these folks in Jesus’ name. Thank you.

Hello, my dear Daily Audio Bible family. How are you? I am so thankful for you for the Hardin family, thankful for technology that we can go through the Bible together in community during this pandemic in this crazy year. I am so thankful for all of you who prayed for our coworker Barb. The surgery to remove the tumor that was behind her ear in her skull was a complete success. They didn’t think that they would get all of the tumor, but they did, 100%. Not only that, her nerves in her face all the things that she was concerned about were totally protected and she has complete use, function of her nerves. Thank you, Lord we are so grateful. Today Brian read the passage about spouses with…well…with Christians with unbelieving spouses. I want to pray for some of those people. Lord, I want to lift up Radiant Rachel to You and Joe and all of the people in our Daily Audio  Bible community who love You and seek You, who worship You and whose spouses are not walking with You. Father, I just pray that You would do mighty work through these brothers and sisters of ours, that You would help them to be Jesus to their spouses and that You would be convicting the hearts of their unbelieving spouses so that they would see Your love and their sin and their need to…need to bend the knee before Your Father. Also, for our friends who are in that same boat Lord, please just touch the hearts of the spouses. Happy Thanksgiving Daily Audio Bible. Talk to you later. We love you.

[farareusis]

The therapist sat across the table from Aisha, a legal pad in front of her, one hand holding a pen and the other a glowing cigarette. Aisha glanced up at the ceiling, squinting in the harsh light. No smoke detector. Unusual.

“So,” the therapist began with a smile, tapping the legal pad with her pen. “How have you been this week, Miss Daring?”

“Mm.”

The therapist waited for elaboration, but when none was forthcoming, she smiled again. It looked somehow out of place on her. “Any highs or lows you want to talk about?” she prodded. “Good days? Bad days? Things you’d like a second opinion on?”

Once again, Aisha declined to answer. The really odd thing, now that Aisha noticed, was that the room didn’t seem to have any doors or windows. How had she gotten in? And, more importantly, how would she get out?

Almost before the thought had entered her mind, the left wall revealed a door, as if it had always been there. The therapist didn’t look at it, but her dark eyes narrowed and grew colder. “Miss Daring,” she tried once more.

“Who are you?” Aisha interrupted. “Where are we?”

The therapist let out a light sigh. “My dear woman,” she said, her voice growing thick with sugary condescension. “I would have thought you, of all people, would recognise me.”

Aisha tried to focus on the woman’s face. Her skin was dark, her nose wide and straight, her long hair thinly dreaded. She looked extraordinarily familiar, painfully so, but the last tumbler of recognition refused to fall into place. Then, before her eyes, everything Aisha saw began to peel like charring paper. The woman’s professional pencil skirt and cardigan burned away to reveal an elaborate formal gown of black and gold. The table between them crumbled to nothing. The blank walls of the room vanished, replaced with a flat, white void that cast no shadows, leaving Aisha with a vertiginous feeling of two-dimensionality.

“Better?” asked the woman, lounging as if supported by an invisible lawn chair.

Aisha stared at her, brow furrowed.

The woman took a drag from her cigarette. “Not much of a conversationalist, are you?” she said. The smoke blew towards Aisha, a cloud of menthol and cherry flavor. It reminded her more of Ben than Piper. “Well, that’s alright. I’m quite used to entertaining myself at the expense of others.” She tapped ash into the air, and it disappeared. “Although I’m sure you know all about that.”

Aisha felt the barb like a physical sting in her gut. “Who are you?” she repeated.

“You and I are already quite well acquainted,” said the woman, her smile becoming an insincere pout. “I knew your friends wouldn’t get it until later, but I thought for sure you would see. I’m almost a little hurt.”

It wasn’t anyone she’d worked with. Aisha had a very good memory for the faces of her contacts and clients, anyone who could be a future problem. Unless it was someone from her childhood - perhaps a relative? Aisha’s scalp prickled, growing warm. This woman could be her mother and Aisha still wouldn’t trust herself to have the slightest clue.

The woman let out a sudden, lilting laugh, touching her hand to her mouth. “Oh, you should have seen your face!” she said. “I’d recreate it for you, but it wouldn’t be as good without twenty-nine years of stoicism behind it.”

“I don’t… understand,” Aisha mumbled. She couldn’t seem to get her bearings, in the conversation or in the surroundings. The stranger didn’t seem to intend her harm, or if she did, it was in a way too obscure for Aisha to predict.

“No, we’ve established that already,” said the woman, flowing to her feet. She crossed the distance between them without seeming to have moved at all. Aisha was well used to others towering over her, but this was different.

“Now, what I’ve done with your cohorts is,” she continued, “I created a hypothetical scenario perfectly tailored to their heart of hearts and watched as their irrational subconscious did the rest.” She straightened one of Aisha’s dreadlocks over her forehead with an almost motherly touch. “But that won’t work with you, will it? You’re much too… self-aware.”

Aisha opened her mouth to respond, but all that came to mind was another I don’t understand. She closed her mouth again.

“And so, here’s what we’ll do, my dear,” the woman went on, clapping once. “We’ll simply go on a little trip, you and I. Back through our shared history. How does that sound?”

“Shared history,” Aisha repeated.

“Yes,” she said. “Do try to keep up, darling — you’ll remember me soon enough.” She took Aisha’s face in her hands, and before Aisha could react, everything shifted.

Her pet rat crawled slowly over the treadmill of her circling hands. Stacks of books stood around her in the dusty debris, all closed save for the one she kept just to the side of her crossed legs. It was little more than a folder of loose papers torn from a handful of different volumes, a distillation of the only information she felt she could trust, and she still couldn’t be sure it would work.

The rat ran over her palm, and she took it by the throat, her thumb pinching its jaw so it couldn’t turn its teeth on her. It felt so large in her young fingers. Her father’s pocketknife clicked open in her other hand. Oh, she thought. I understand, now.

The rat’s blood cooled quickly as it ran over her hand and onto the decrepit barn floor with a dull splash. She watched as if it were happening to someone else. Slowly, she knelt on the cement. Pressed her knuckles to the small pool of blood, rat’s body still in hand.

The blood shot out in a series of ever-entangling designs like a thicket of brambles, darkening as it went until it seemed to suck the light from the air around her. The temperature began to fall. Her rapid breath clouded in an almost constant stream. She hadn’t known, back then, what was coming. Not really.

Night-black smoke erupted from the spell, enveloping her in a cylinder of darkness. She choked, sharp ozone heavy in her lungs, her blood thundering in her ears. No, she hadn’t known what she was doing. What she would do. But if she had… would it have made any difference?

Another sudden shift put her heart in her mouth. Her hair was rough and matted against her neck and shoulders, threaded with old braids and half-formed dreadlocks. It was cold, the dead of winter, but it didn’t bother Aisha. She was perched on a streetlight like a cat on a fencepost, staring down at the road. Her entire body felt hollow, the sensation of months without food or sleep still horribly familiar - it was almost comforting, in a twisted sort of way. Like bones popping back out of place after adjustment.

No, she thought. A man stumbled down the sidewalk below. No. No. No. Not again. Not again.

The man was tall and corpse-thin, middle-aged, and smelled like wood alcohol. Aisha knew long before he got within a hundred feet of her. She’d told Piper once that it was impossible to remember everyone she’d killed, and it had been mostly honest - but only as far as the ones whose faces she’d never seen.

She dismounted. A hundred and seventy pounds dropped on him from two dozen feet above had the man as good as dead even before his head hit the cement with a sickening thunk. Just to make sure, Aisha turned him over with her foot, touched her fingers lightly to the side of his neck. The skin opened up in a perfectly straight, laser-thin line to the other side, and blood seeped out to join the already considerable puddle under his skull.

Aisha sensed an alien satisfaction from the darkness around her. She, herself, felt absolutely nothing.

Another shift set her head spinning. She held a large pair of shears in one hand and a three-foot-long clump of black hair in the other, blood still drying on both it and the hand that held it. Red streaked the filthy sink in front of her - she’d tried to wash it off, to no avail. The lights of the bathroom were bright around her, casting stark shadows that made her double take at every creak. The smell of gasoline and mildew permeated the air.

With hands that shivered so much she could barely operate the shears, she chopped up the hair into tiny pieces and flushed it down the toilet. No more, she thought. No more.

She sat down on the toilet seat. Without them, she’d have to start living like a normal person again. Eating, sleeping, talking. She’d have to work, and learn, and meet people — she tried to remember the last time she’d actually spoken to a human being. Months. Years, probably. She wasn’t sure she even remembered how to do it. She did remember enough to know that, if she tried, everyone would be able to tell that something was very wrong with her. Humans were supposed to be good at that sort of thing.

Her breath came out in an unsteady sigh. Her stomach suddenly seized up with four years’ worth of suppressed hunger, and when she managed to come back to her senses, she knew the exhaustion couldn’t be far behind. She needed to get out of the bathroom, find somewhere safe to spend the night, decide on a plan of action. She couldn’t go back home. She’d missed most of middle and high school, and she had no resources. She’d have to find a life outside of the system, at least until she was old enough to—

The tears came came so unexpectedly, she didn’t have any breath to spare for them, and her body forced out a hoarse wheeze before sucking in air for a bout of soul-wracking sobs. She hadn’t cried for longer even than she hadn’t eaten, and the depth of her sudden suffering terrified her.

“I can’t,” she gasped, her voice an atrophied croak. She muttered it again and again until the letters scrambled and lost their meaning.

She couldn’t face life like this. A shambling, blood-clotted teenager with a sixth grade education and the social skills of a praying mantis. No money. No family. No future.

The lights flickered, and she startled, looking around so fast her neck protested. Nothing. They still hadn’t found her. The only thing moving in the room was her reflection, and—

She froze.

The girl in the mirror smirked, waving her fingers.

Aisha’s knife was in her hand before her eyes were fully open, bedsheets pulled off and feet halfway off the mattress. She stared into the moonlit shadows, her breath coming in ragged heaves, until she convinced herself that it had only been a dream. One more vivid than anything she had ever experienced before, even in her worst flashbacks — but only a dream. She was twenty-nine. She’d been a real person for over a decade. That was her real life.

She dissolved into the darkness and reappeared in the kitchen, poured herself a glass of water. It would all seem, if not silly, at least less material in the morning.

The knife shot back out as she saw something in the kitchen window. The dark glass reflected the room back to itself, a ghost of a face hovering near the edge. One she’d recognised only in the last moment before waking, and couldn’t understand why it had taken so long.

The nightmare woman was herself. 

Of course.

[misc-obeyme]

Oh that would be so hard... like what the hell of course the answer to a question like that would be a Barbatos essay??? There's so much to say about him! Plus, don't they want you to be honest? Well, I dunno, maybe they don't lol. But if I was a teacher and my students answered questions like that with fictional characters, it would fill me with happiness.

it's a religious school too😭 the fact that I am still not excuted yet is hard to believe. but sometimes people get lucky🙇...... they're like: K-Kian are you.. QUEER?😦GAY?😱 Ssimp for a DEMON💀💀 in MY ISLAMIC😇 School??? 😡👿👿

that didn't stop me though. you can't stop me, even god can't-

I'm finding the new birthday event to be very interesting. I'm not used to having to wait to read the story. Like maybe I could unlock the whole thing in a night, but the AP regeneration kinda requires you to do it a bit at a time. I don't hate it or anything, actually it's kinda nice. But I'm not sure how I feel about the story yet 'cause I haven't unlocked it all.

My advice is to not read it till last. skip it and read it when you've fully unlocked it.. I once made a mistake of reading a Barb's devilgram and while I could've gotten the card in the next three days. well, let's say I spent about 1000 dps to get him earlier. 💚💚💚 not regreting anything

You have a counter for Barb's bday? I love it! We still have some time, but it draws ever closer!! I'm always prepared to lose my mind over his cards lol. I'm excited to see what his birthday event is like!

I just hope it's not his usual artist I Simeon's artist to draw him pleaase😭😭😭 + we share the same BD so it helps me keep track of time because i tend to forget it. I want to treat myself this year after ignoring it for so long....... so I need to track the days lol.

It's a religious school?!!? I'm sorry, but that makes the whole thing even more entertaining lol.

OH of COURSE how did I not think to just skip the story parts and then read them all at once when it's fully unlocked?? That's how I do lessons. I always do all the battles first and then go back and read the story parts so I don't have to be interrupted!! LOL duh. I do events like that sometimes, too, but that just depends on how much time I have. Anyway for some reason that did not occur to me with this new format of thing, so thank you for the suggestion as I have now begun doing it that way! Still working on unlocking it all, but I think I'm gonna make it.

If Barb's card looks anything like Asmo's or Simeon's this year, you can say good bye to any and all resources I have saved up at that point. Not that I wouldn't spend them all to get a Barb bday card anyway, but I fear it'd be much worse.

YO you have the same birthday too?!?! Wow, that's a sign of fate right there~ it was meant to be~

I always use my birthday as an excuse to take the day off from work. I'll get myself something tasty to eat, too. Nothing fancy, but I think it's really important to do nice things for yourself sometimes. And since it's easy to forget, a birthday is a good reason to do it. So I hope you do treat yourself this year, you deserve it!

[bornpariah-a]

                                     SIGNIFICANT PEOPLE

A thought ran through my mind recently: we know some of Dorian’s backstory, but what about the SPECIFICS? He had no actual friends apart from Felix for the bulk of his life, but there really must be some significant people who had had an impact on his life. Naturally, I already have plenty of thoughts regarding these people and who they could be and the effect that they have on Dorian’s life, and I suppose you could call them NPCs. For the most part these are based on people that have been mentioned in-game who I have decided to expand upon, simply just to give further insight on Dorian’s life pre-game. Do note that, apart from names and basic information, none of the information in this post should be considered canon. This is all entirely based on MY OWN HEADCANONS, and bear in mind that the pictures shown above are just representations for these characters. That being said, below the cut is some more information!!

RILIENUS TALVAS. ( quiet, academic, rational, hopeless romantic. ) So, anyone who plays the game with Dorian and Cole in your party a great majority of the time know some about Rilienus. Rilienus, skin tan like fine whiskey, cheekbones shaded, lips curl when he smiles. —— He would have said yes. In my headcanons, Rilienus is a Laetan who attended the Vyrantium Circle whilst Dorian attended when he was around the age of fifteen/sixteen. When they met they hit if off, in some ways, mostly by way of the fact that they were both scholarly and enjoyed academic pursuits. They would often spend time with each other in the circle library, combing over various books. There were a great many times that Dorian tutored him when Rilienus was lagging in one aspect of magic or another. They spent a great amount of time together and became something like friends, though Dorian doesn’t really CONSIDER IT friendship in hindsight. At that point in time, Dorian was still determined to make his father proud ( this pursuit was strengthened by the fact that he had moved through many of the circles in tevinter, already ) and he did not personally view Rilienus as a friend. He was motivated by Rilienus’s beauty to show him kindness and Dorian fostered something of a HOPELESS CRUSH ON HIM, not that he acknowledged it at the time. Rilienus likely also fostered something of a crush on Dorian, in return, Something tender intermingled with a brand of hero worship, due to Dorian’s talents. Shortly before Dorian had been EXPELLED from the Vyrantium Circle for getting into yet another fight, the sudden question of “may i kiss you?” popped into his mind unbidden when he had been spending an afternoon with Rilienus in the library. Shortly thereafter, Dorian had a minor breakdown and fled the library and they were never alone again before he was expelled. In present time, insofar as canon goes, he has married and has a small family and is an Enchanter of the Vyrantium Circle and is generally happy.

LIVIA HERATHINOS. ( cut-throat, intelligent, stubborn, cunning ) Dorian mentions to Varric that his parents very much wanted him to marry a woman named Livia Herathinos. Obviously, their parents wanted them to be betrothed to be married and imagined the two of them having a very, very powerful mage baby. To elaborate: in my mind, Livia is an Altus whose father is a Magister, and she has magical skill which is essentially on par with Dorian’s. Given their respective magical abilities and the fact that they stood out from their peers as a result, the Pavus and Herathinos family were VERY INTERESTED in the child that they would breed together. Livia and Dorian spent some time together when they were children, wherein they got into an excessive amount of trouble together. Blowing things up for the sake of blowing things up sort of trouble. They both attended the Carastes Circle when they were children and, at the time, somewhat tolerated each other. For the most part they argued and competed against each other. Livia stayed in the Carastes Circle throughout all of her studies, whilst Dorian was, naturally, transported through pretty much all the Circles in Tevinter. Their parents often tried to push them together at just about any and every party that they attended, to which they were consistently horrible to each other, which got worse as they got older. Livia tried to have Dorian killed multiple times, though clearly no attempts succeeded. He did the same to her, quite frankly. Honestly, they made an attempt to get along when they were younger, albeit a weak one, but it just failed as they got older. They actually admired each other, deep down, for their respective magical abilities and for their personalities, and likely would have made TERRIFYINGLY GOOD FRIENDS if things had worked out differently. The type of friends that no one ever wanted to see together, because nothing good would come of it. Their last point of contact was at a party whilst Dorian was Alexius’s apprentice, wherein they exchanged barbs. Not even thinly veiled. Nonetheless, these days Livia is already married and has given birth to a daughter, who is definitely a mage, whom she loves deeply. She doesn’t care much for her husband.

SERAPHUS ABREXIS. ( resentful, insecure, focused, resourceful ) Son of Ulio Abrexis, whose estate Dorian was abducted from in canon due to a scandalous affair between himself and his son, who I named Seraphus. Dorian and he studied together at the smaller Circle in Minrathous, ran by the Order of Argent. The two of them had very little contact when they were younger, but Seraphus deeply envied Dorian for his magical talents, as he had slightly below average talent when it came to magic. In general, he hated the circle that he had to attend due to its strict adherence to the Chantry and often found himself frustrated because of his status. He was the first person who tried to kill Dorian, a decision that he made purely due to his irritation, and because he had his assassin mention his name when trying to kill Dorian, by the time that he arrived at the Circle at the age of seventeen/eighteen he had already hyper-focused on Seraphus. Their relationship was one of INTENSE RIVALRY, at least on Seraphus’s part. On Dorian’s part he was mostly just amused by Seraphus. Which served to anger Seraphus even more. Just before Dorian fled the Circle, Seraphus demanded that they meet and have a duel, to which Dorian showed up to. And soundly beat Seraphus. They ended up fucking that night, and Seraphus was the first man that Dorian ever fully slept with. They had no contact for several years thereafter. The next time that they met, Dorian was about twenty-five and in the midst of grieving over the Alexius family, and was generally drunk at the time. All the time. Seraphus was to be married soon, yet he and Dorian began an illicit affair that went on ( and went probably too far ) until Dorian was abducted by his family’s men and put under house arrest. The scandal reflected badly on Seraphus, as well, and nearly jeopardized his eventual marriage. The relationship between Seraphus and Dorian wasn’t particularly simple nor healthy, considering the premise and the fact that Seraphus CONTINUED TO RESENT DORIAN in spite of being attracted to him. In return, Dorian just didn’t think very much of Seraphus, apart from him being attractive and a good lay. To say they hate each other is a stretch, honestly. Nowadays Seraphus is unhappily married and to whom his father’s seat in the Magisterium is going to is unknown, to his despair.

SORREL. ( realistic, determined, sly, enigmatic ) This is a character of my own creation with no technical basis in canon. A male elven prostitute with whom Dorian spent a significant amount of time with, and not purely just to sleep with him. Though that definitely happened. In the time after he ran away from the Order of Argent’s Circle, Dorian spent a majority of his time with Sorrel, because they were —— SOMETHING LIKE FRIENDS. Not quite, given the nature of their relationship, but they got along well enough. Being incredibly attractive, Dorian enjoyed sleeping with the man, but Sorrel also offered a great source of conversation, and they talked often nearly as much as they fucked. Sorrel is charismatic and intelligent and Dorian would often default to spending the night with him whenever possible, paying him handsomely. They never properly breached any PERSONAL TOPICS, but Dorian supposes that he came to care for Sorrel and for the place that he worked. Enough so that he defended it multiple times against people who wanted to take advantage of any of the employees. Dorian became affectionately known as their resident mage and Sorrel was just about as fond of Dorian as Dorian was of him. Their relationship was not anything beyond platonic with rather frequent sexual trysts, as they had no romantic interest in each other. Dorian had been with Sorrel the night that Gereon Alexius came across him, and returned to visit him on a more or less low key basis after he had been taken into the Alexius family’s fold. After his fall out with Alexius, Dorian returned to Sorrel, though they did not sleep together. The last time they slept together was some time during Dorian’s time as Alexius’s apprentice. When he was fleeing Tevinter, Dorian considered seeing Sorrel one last time, but he dismissed the idea rather quickly. He has WRITTEN HIM, a few times, but does not consider them friends, by and large because of their power imbalance. These days, Sorrel is still a sex worker, but after Dorian returns to Tevinter he gets a mysterious benefactor who never sees him nor visits the house, any longer.

[sweet-christabel]

A Trusted Friend In Science

FF.net: (x) AO3: (x)

Chapter Thirty-Seven - 2036. Living With It.

The sun was hot on the back of Chell’s neck; once a welcome heat, now an annoyance. She wiped a hand across her forehead, adjusting her hat. She’d made it herself, weaving strands of straw together until it vaguely resembled a wide-brimmed fedora. It was the most hideous-looking thing she’d ever seen, and she wore it with pride.

She moved into the shade of the house, swinging her basket to the ground. Sitting on the blissful coolness that was the porch, she set to work washing her morning’s haul in a bucket, sighing as she dipped her hot hands into the water. She appraised each potato as she scrubbed it, searching for imperfections. It was with some irony that she reflected on her thriving potato crop. It was by far the best-growing food product in the garden. Although she was grateful to have a thriving crop of anything, Chell couldn’t help but wish for greater success with the tomatoes, beans, wheat or any of the fruit trees. Anything but potatoes. She ate them, of course, but it was still disconcerting to cook something that had once spent considerable time talking to her.

“Not the same potato,” she reminded herself, as she had done countless times since.

A chicken rounded the corner of the house, beady eyes appraising her with a suspiciously judging expression.

“Oh, don’t you sass me, madam,” Chell addressed it sternly, gesturing with the potato she happened to have in hand. “Start laying again and maybe you’ll have earned the right to look so snooty.”

The chicken nonchalantly stared at her for a moment, before pecking at the grain that littered the ground. Chell watched it and its companions while she worked, amused by the way they fussed around the yard, their world reduced to the haphazard wire fencing that she had constructed around the borders of her garden. The house was a comfortable size that she had built herself, (with a lot of help from kind volunteers), and the garden was her livelihood. She’d designed it mostly for function, with the vegetable beds, fruit trees, and hen houses taking up much of the space, but she’d left room for flowers and a bench, and a modest memorial spot in one corner. Since it was the only house and garden for several miles, there was plenty of room for expansion if it was needed.

She was just rinsing off the last potato when a noise caught her attention. Glancing sideways, she heard the rattle of a key, then the door to the tiny outbuilding opened and a scientist stepped through. Her scientist, to be exact. She felt a smile break out on her face.

Doug looked stressed, his hair sticking up in wild spikes, but he returned her smile when he saw her, weaving his way through the chickens to sit beside her on the porch steps.

“Hi,” he greeted, ducking under the brim of her terrible hat to kiss her.

Chell obligingly pushed it up out of the way, tasting coffee on his lips, inhaling the faint, unchanged scent of the labs that hung about him like a cloud.

“How’s your day going?” she asked when he sat back.

“Slowly,” he replied at once. “The device is fighting back at every turn. The calibration needs tweaking. Again. I can’t seem to get it quite right.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” she told him, gently chiding. “You’re building a country-wide – potentially world-wide – travel network. It was never going to be straightforward.”

“I know,” he said, folding his arms over his knees. “It will come together eventually, I’m sure. It’s just sometimes…I kind of wish that Caroline had dreamed slightly smaller.”

She tried and failed to hide her amusement. “I’m sorry, but she was right. It’s stupid to have working portal technology and confine it to puzzle-solving. It should be used to cross long distances, especially now that the world is how it is.”

“I know that,” Doug said with a sigh, running a hand through his hair. “I think she’s right too. I just have a headache. I want to get on with the work, not be tied up reporting to the damn president. I’m a terrible frontman for this project.”

“I disagree,” Chell countered, setting the potato down and drying her hands on the legs of her jeans. “The only reason I want you to step down from that position is because you don’t want to be there. But otherwise, you’re actually pretty good at it.”

“The only reason I’m staying put is because I don’t trust Kleiner with it,” he confided.

“Kleiner seems happy tinkering with the robots. And Angela’s keeping an eye on him.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “He’s good at running that department, I have to admit. But still…he’d have the right to get in on this, especially as one of the founders of this new Aperture. I think…I think I’m going to hand over to GLaDOS.”

Chell raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Will President James deal with an A.I.?”

“Once I introduce her to him, she’ll probably make a convincing case for herself without my help, but I’ll try and persuade him. How’s your day going?”

“Not bad,” Chell reported, nudging the basket with the toe of her boot. “I got a lot of potatoes again. You can take them back with you if you want. Gerry can use them in the cafeteria.”

Once again, Aperture ran alongside their lives, engulfing almost everyone they knew. But this time, it didn’t feel oppressive. Perhaps it was the state of the war-torn world they lived in, and the fact that the lab’s resources were being used responsibly for the first time in years – possibly ever – but Chell knew that neither one of them felt tied to it this time around.

After they had returned from their initial conversation with GLaDOS, both had formed set opinions about the propositions she had laid at their feet. Sitting in the back of Gordon’s car, they had shared those opinions and made plans for the future. Chell had admitted how returning to Aperture had made her feel safe, and Doug had said the same, confirming her suspicions that they were united in the realisation that escaping had done nothing to sever their ties to the place. It was there that their feelings differed.

Chell had resolutely decided not to take GLaDOS up on her offer. She had been tempted. The thought of resuming her old job, assisting with the running of the facility, and the familiar and new challenges it would throw up had looked appealing. It would have meant a place and purpose, an answer to the uncertainties she’d been worrying about ever since they had re-joined society. But it would have been the easy way forward, and Chell had never done anything the easy way. Instead, she’d set herself the task of becoming self-sufficient, of building a place to live not far from Julie and Angela, so that Doug could spend time with his sister when he wanted. It was the toughest challenge she’d ever faced, but she’d weathered it and emerged triumphant, providing not only for herself and Doug, but adding to the food supplies of the city of Wyoming and Aperture’s cafeteria. Compared to some of the farms, what she contributed was tiny, but it was all helpful, it was all needed, and it gave her more satisfaction than she’d anticipated upon starting up.

By contrast, Doug had become an Aperture scientist once more. For him, it was not about taking the easy route, but a desperate need to go back and fix what had gone wrong. There was no way to undo the past, of course, but Chell knew how much he needed to turn his work there into something more positive than it had been. He wanted to help move the company forward, to contribute to making the world better. She understood his reasoning, even if she couldn’t do it herself. He was trying to change his own perception of the place, so that it held no power over him. He could never forget that GLaDOS had killed his co-workers, just as Chell could never forget what had happened to her father, but they both knew it worked the other way too: GLaDOS would never forget how they had worked to bring her down twice. Tentative trust began to build up, bizarrely based on a foundation of mutual distrust. From there, they were all able to move forward.

Doug was working closely with GLaDOS to put portal technology to the more practical use that Caroline had first envisioned. It enabled him to live in Wyoming and commute to Ishpeming in a single footstep. Chell had built him a small outbuilding, where he had installed one of the panels that she remembered from tests, the ones that had supported the pre-placed portals. It linked to a similar small room inside his lab. Both were kept securely locked, for safety and privacy reasons, and they had proved a successful first application of the technology. Now they were thinking bigger, finding ways to cross states, even continents, as Chell’s shot to the moon had already proved that range wasn’t an issue. Doug was busy developing different portal frequencies so that there wouldn’t be any mishaps with destinations, working on the back of the techniques GLaDOS had developed when building the co-operative testing initiative, which allowed for four portals within the same puzzle.

New Aperture, as they had nicknamed it, had changed many of the lives around them. Chell sometimes went in with Doug, running through a few test chambers for old time’s sake. GLaDOS seemed to enjoy the opportunity to be spiky with her again, and Chell didn’t mind it so much now that she’d ensured the proper safety features were in place. Without deadly lasers, toxic goo, or lethal turret rounds to deal with on top of the barbed comments, the comments alone seemed much easier to brush off. Secretly, she knew it would have felt very strange to test without hearing them. She’d always enjoyed the challenge of the tests, somewhere deeply buried under the stress, anger and fear. Sometimes she relished the chance to set her garden aside and focus her mind.

Kleiner had happily accepted a job in the labs, and he was working on a series of non-sentient robots to aid with manual labour, dabbling in artificial intelligence on the side. Doug’s niece, Angela, had joined as his assistant, and to ensure that he didn’t get too carried away. Gordon had been offered a post, but had politely refused on grounds of enjoying his retirement. He had, however, taken on the task of distributing some of GLaDOS’s cures, which had only served to heighten his hero status, despite his adamant claims that he had had nothing to do with their development. He quickly gave that up, not just because of the attention, but also due to the fact that he and Alyx had their hands full following the birth of Eliza, their daughter. Occasionally, he would take some time out to visit and join Chell in running a few co-operative tests, and the two often engaged in friendly competition, despite the fact that the tests called for teamwork.

The citizens of Ishpeming had benefitted from Aperture’s re-emergence. Many of them got jobs there, as office clerks or test subjects, (again, with proper safety protocols in place), and Gerry had happily taken over the cafeteria. Chell had learned that he’d shown an interest in cooking before the war, and she was pleased that he’d managed to find a way to integrate it into his life. Trevor, like her, opted to stay aboveground, but he had his hands full growing produce for the sudden influx of residents in the town, mostly scientists who came to join Aperture’s new ventures.

Chell had a pleasing balance of solitude and company between her garden and the labs, and she could escape to either one as she wished. She didn’t even have to worry about Wheatley, as Angela had fallen head over heels as soon as she had been introduced to the talkative core, and had offered to look after him, instantly fascinated in his construction. Although GLaDOS had not relented on her decision to keep him away from Aperture, Angela still learned enough in her spare time to start developing new cores, albeit ones without the combination of ambition, selfishness and resentment that had led to Wheatley’s disastrous time in charge. Wheatley, in return, seemed to enjoy her company without the edge of guilt that would always taint his relationships with Chell and Doug, and the two of them muddled along well together, although Julie found his presence in her house trying, to say the least.

“You know what the hardest thing has been?” Chell spoke up, all the introspection making her want to share some of her reflections.

Doug blinked, momentarily taken aback by the change of topic, unaware of Chell’s lengthy thought process. “What?”

“Learning that we were going about things all wrong by running away from Aperture. We spent so long trying to escape. It was so jarring when it didn’t really solve anything.”

“I know what you mean,” he said with a nod. “The solution to our peace of mind wasn’t escaping Aperture but finding a way to live with it.”

“We couldn’t have figured that out any faster than we did, though,” Chell added with certainty. “We had to spend the time doing what we did in order to come to that conclusion.”

“GLaDOS had to reach it too,” Doug said quietly. “Do you think you can ever forgive her? Truly forgive her, I mean?”

Chell was silent for a long while before answering. She’d asked herself the same question many times before.

“I don’t know. It’s hard. It feels…impossible. But even if I don’t forgive, I do understand. I get why she reacted the way she did. So that’s a start, I guess.” She shrugged. “That’s more than I expected, given our history.”

A comfortable silence fell between them as they sat in the shade, looking out over their garden. Chell never forgot how lucky they’d been, how close they’d come – on multiple occasions – to never having a life like the one they’d built.

“I should get back,” Doug said at length, stretching his legs out.

“You haven’t eaten,” Chell reprimanded.

“I had a sandwich before I left. I just wanted to see you.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Rattmann,” she said with a grin.

“I’ll hold you to that!”

She stood up to give him a hug, sending him off to the outbuilding that housed the portal with her usual parting words.

“Go make the world better.”

Holding the basket of potatoes in one hand, he turned to awkwardly give her a salute before disappearing through the door. She watched him go with a fond smile. Another unlikely hero, like Gordon. Like herself. She knew Doug would never accept the label, but she’d given it to him in the privacy of her own thoughts. The war had made unlikely heroes of many people. Secluded from it in Aperture, they’d faced their own.

Left alone, Chell sat back down on the top step, watching the chickens peck. Wheatley had developed a strange sort of fearful fascination with them the last time he and Angela had visited. He was terrified of them because they were birds, but somewhat mollified by the fact that they couldn’t fly. After pushing past his initial alarm, he’d taken to making brash observations about them, bolstered by the bravado of being propped safely out of reach on the porch steps. He still wasn’t sure what to make of the cockerel.

Chell glanced towards the memorial in the corner of the garden, pondering what she’d said to Doug. She’d been honest with him about how she felt about forgiving GLaDOS. She didn’t know if she ever could, and she had no answers for whether that was fair or not. It seemed utterly unthinkable, if she was brutally honest, and she knew it had played a small part in her refusal to work at new Aperture. But once upon a time, understanding the reasons why GLaDOS had done what she’d done had seemed impossible too, and yet Chell did understand, and even felt a tiny measure of sympathy. That was a step towards forgiveness for sure. The problem was, Chell didn’t know if she wanted to forgive, whether it would feel like a betrayal to her father and all the others that had lost their lives to tests and neurotoxin.

She tried to think about what her father would say, what kind of advice he’d give, but the harsh truth was that she just didn’t know. He’d closed himself off from her in later years, to the point that she was forced to accept that she hadn’t known him very well. At the end, at least. She hoped that he’d have told her to be true to herself, because her own judgement was all she had to go on.

Perhaps she would forgive. One day. And when that day came, perhaps she’d be okay with it.

“Time will tell,” she said aloud. “You can’t force it.”

When she’d first started to develop a friendship with Doug, what she’d appreciated most about him was the way they could bounce opinions off each other, and argue their points in a fair debate. That hadn’t changed, even if everything else had, but their conversations often made her face things she’d rather not. She knew it was good for her, but it wasn’t always welcome. Still, it was a small price to pay to have him in her life.

Her life was good. It wasn’t what she’d expected after everything she’d been through, and she was grateful for every part of it. She’d lived so long on a knife’s edge, with the weight of tension pressing down on her, and then in an adrenaline-fuelled nightmare. There was nothing in her new life that ever surprised her, and she found it refreshing. Eventually, she suspected she’d tire of it and seek out something to keep her more challenged, but for now she relished just how reliable everything was. Nothing changed unless she gave it express permission, and she was more than happy with the feeling. She didn’t want to be surprised by a single thing for a good long while yet.

Much later in the afternoon, while she was elbow-deep in the vegetable patch, there came the rattling of the lock on the outbuilding, and Doug’s head appeared around the door, his expression preoccupied and apologetic.

“Uh…” he said.

Chell stood up, old fragments of alarm starting to uncurl in the pit of her stomach, and she cursed herself for tempting fate with her earlier thoughts. “Oh god, what?”

“I may have accidentally…” He took a deep breath, and Chell braced herself. “…agreed to watch over a toddler,” he spat out, words hurrying over each other after his initial hesitation.

Chell blinked at him.

“She…Gerry found her. In the wheat field, next to the body of her mother. They were starving. I mean…well, the girl had had food, but obviously the mother hadn’t, and…she’s all alone, I figured we could look after her for a bit. We have the space. I know I should have asked you, but…it’s literally just happened and GLaDOS has just invented a no-children policy. Gerry and Trevor don’t have room to take on a child, I don’t want to ask Julie, so I just thought…” He trailed off again and shrugged.

Chell took in his anxious demeanour, taken aback by his obvious desire to help. She’d never really labelled him as the paternal sort. In fact, his own words to her had spoken of his concerns about whether he was even suited to childcare. Of course that had been before, back when he’d still been coping with his condition, not giving himself enough credit for his control over it. Now he was free of it, but barring a residual, outward sense of calmness that he’d never allowed himself before, he was largely unchanged.

She debated whether she could handle taking care of an orphaned toddler, and whether she really felt up to it, but she was already moving towards the outdoor water pump, rinsing the soil off her hands.

“Lead the way,” she said.

“You don’t mind?”

“I was an orphan once too, remember?” she told him, joining him in the outbuilding and locking the door behind them. In a single step, she was standing on the Aperture-standard carpet tiles of his lab. “We should help where we can until we can come up with a long-term solution.”

He met her gaze, nodding firmly. “Agreed.”

Feeling strangely nervous, she added, “She shouldn’t stay too long, though. I wouldn’t want her to get attached.”

“No, nor me.”

“And someone should do something about the poor mother.”

“Gerry’s taken care of it.” He let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. “If only she’d been able to make it into town.”

Chell reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze. “She still might not have survived,” she said gently. “You know as well as I do that it’s a harsh world out there now.”

He nodded. “That’s why I wanted to help. The girl…she’s not old enough to understand what’s happened. She only knows a few words, but one of them is ‘Mom’…or some variation of it, at least.”

She squeezed his hand again. “So let’s go help.”

Doug looked down at her, and she saw her own nervousness reflected in his face. Briefly, she wondered why they were putting themselves through it, but she knew how desperate he was to help people, to atone for those he couldn’t help before. It was the right thing to do.

Together, they left the small room that the portal was locked away in, walking Aperture’s familiar corridors on the way to their mercy mission. It was simple: they would look after the girl, find her a place to live, someone to love her, then, when she was ready, she would leave. They could handle a short period of responsibility, Chell was sure. It was the simplest plan in the world.

It happened exactly as she’d intended it would. Almost.

They did look after the girl, and when she was ready, she did leave…at the age of twenty-three, when she wanted her own space.

In hindsight, Chell wasn’t surprised that their daughter had come from Aperture. Their lives had always been tied to it. They’d just needed to find a way to live with it in peace, and peace was a luxury they’d finally earned. She could live with that.

The End.

A/N: That’s it, guys, final chapter. Thanks to everyone who came along for the ride. It’s been fun :D

[epochxp]

Tactics Talk – Urban Combat

Storm of Steel Website 

Introduction

We have a certain view of urban combat. One of gritty close quarters, no-mercy, warfare with snipers at every turn, and every building a veritable fortress. War in such built-up areas has long been a nightmare, but it wasn’t a fixture of warfare until the last century, at least not in the severity and seriousness one sees in more recent times. Cities are being increasingly fought over now, as the urban population on the planet explodes, and the concept of “three-block war” is becoming more, not less common. But, like anything in history, there have been exceptions. See Tenochtitlan in 1521, Monterrey in 1846, or Fredericksburg in 1862. It’s just it wasn’t very common. Now, not it’s almost uncommon for cities not to be battlegrounds. 

 But to a wargamer, urban combat provides many of the same difficulties one finds in reality. So how does your average wargamer a) take a building away from a determined enemy and b) hold said building against said determined enemy? There are lots of ways, I don’t know them all, but I am going to share as many as I can with you, with the help of Osprey’s Elite Vol. 168 World War II Street Fighting Tactics and Stephen Bull’s “Second World War Infantry Tactics,” as well as some other online resources. So, let’s get started.

The Urban Jungle and You, A Bit of History

Urban combat is one of the nastiest forms of combat there is. Many armies are more than satisfied to bypass a city and leave the defenders to die on the vine. And there’s a good reason. Cities are three-dimensional. 

Ask the Russians in Grozny in 1995 during the First Chechen War. The Russian Army used textbook Soviet tactics of making “thunder runs” into a city to seize key points and then reduce the city’s defenders into smaller and more manageable pockets. It’s a technique that worked for them in World War II. The problem was, many of the Chechen defenders were Soviet army veterans and thus, knew the playbook. The Chechens sucked the Russians deep into Grozny, where their supporting air and artillery could not help them. The next step was to lure the Russians into blind alleys and other places where they could be easily boxed in, and then the killing began. Chechen guerillas sniped tanks from rooftops and upper floors with RPGs at close range. The Russian infantry was pinned down with automatic weapons fire from above, and the Russians were caught in the street below, with no cover or place to run. The Chechens then used the sewers to move between the various kill zones. By the time it was all over? 400 Russian AFVs had been lost, and Russian morale hit a nadir. The Russians took two months to finally force the Chechens out of Grozny, despite outnumbering them 5-1. 

So, yes, a city is a dangerous place for any army. Rates of advance when it’s done right will be slow and costly, and you’ll probably need tons of direct firepower to smash an enemy position to the point where you can assault it. Or, at the very least, engineers to pave the way?

Wikimedia Commons

Too Fat Lardies

So, what are the things to keep in mind when wargaming in an urban environment?

Cut the Position Off – Before you assault any strong point, cut it off from mutual support. This can be done in a variety of ways; Supporting fires     covering avenues of approach or smoke are two of the better ways. The British had a technique where they would drop smoke beyond the targeted house to make sure any mutual support from surrounding houses was blind. And in your planning, always assume the other guy has positions overwatching the one you’re trying to grab?

Firepower, Lots of It! – Urban combat is a brutal thing, and it will probably come down to whatever rules your game has for close combat, but if you can get a flamethrower or satchel charge to pave your way into a building and at the very least, stun the defenders, take that opportunity. Direct fire from tanks or anti-tank guns also works well. Keep in mind most games, when it gets to close combat, give the defenders in a building bennies to the dice modifiers for a good reason, so have the means to absorb losses and still make the attack work. The normal 3-1 attacker to defender ratio should be increased to 4 or 5-1 at least when making an assault on a building bigger than a farmhouse.

Have a Reserve and Bring it Up Quick – The other side is waiting for you to bleed your assault elements white while you reduce that position. There is nothing quite so frustrating as taking a building and pulling up the enemy’s counters or figures and then watching your opponent hit you with a massive counterattack that he knows will succeed. Be ready to reinforce the position you just took. 

Time is always a factor – Time is always a factor in wargaming—length of the scenario, rates of movement versus the number of turns, etc. Keep in mind, urban fighting and reducing a building is a slow process. You have to work to keep the enemy pinned down and then smash him with a final assault, but that’s going to take a few turns to do right.

What About Defending a Building?

Don’t Let them Cut You Off – The worst thing that can happen to one of your positions is for it to be cut off. If it’s about to be? Withdraw the     troops to another position, preferably one that covers the one you’re     leaving.  Remember, you can always cut the building off again and hit     him with the tips I just gave you?

Trip him Up  –  Mines are great for this, even some barbed wire obstacles that will trip up a final assault, hang him up while you have him under fire. A  particularly sneaky trick is to place your obstacles so they’re not just     covered by the position they’re protecting but by the positions that are     supporting the one you’re protecting.

Support, It’s Key! – Repeat after me: Never, ever leave a position unsupported by itself. Always have a couple of fallback positions in mind for any of your defenders (that’s good advice in any defensive situation).

A Little Goes a Long Way – You can do a lot with a small group of units defending a building, so try to keep in mind not to over-defend one position and under-defend another. And always, always keep a reserve! 

Conclusion

Historical wargaming in an urban environment is a fun and interesting wargame challenge, but remember, it’s going to be rough on both sides. I’ve run and played a lot of urban games, and the number one thing that defeats players in such games? Their own “wargamer morale.” Or as one of the rules of Murphy’s Law of Combat once put it? “When both sides are convinced they are losing, they are both right.” Always have what some professionals call a GOTH (Go To Hell) plan or a plan for when all your other plans fail. It need not be complicated, but as a wargamer, I will admit I’ve reached for it when my other plans went awry more than once.

We’ll talk more later! Ta Ta for now!

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At Epoch Xperience, we specialize in creating compelling narratives and provide research to give your game the kind of details that engage your players and create a resonant world they want to spend time in. If you are interested in learning more about our gaming research services, you can browse Epoch Xperience’s service on our parent site, SJR Research.

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(This article is credited to Jason Weiser. Jason is a long-time wargamer with published works in the Journal of the Society of Twentieth Century Wargamers; Miniature Wargames Magazine; and Wargames, Strategy, and Soldier.)

[unicornsandcharlie2]

1. What is one thing that brings a smile to your face, no matter the time of day?

David playing around, my baby cousins.

2. What’s is one thing that you’re proud of?

Being a good sister, a communicative daughter and keeping a diary for 11 years.

3. What makes you laugh?

My best friend Marina, she’s hilarious. The Receipts podcast, stan twitter, Real Housewives fight compilations, Dance Moms 

4. When you’re feeling super lazy, what’s your guilty-pleasure Netflix show?

I’ve only begun watching it recently, The Thick Of It, but I haven’t watched it enough for it to be my go to.

5. What’s the scariest thing you’ve ever done?

Telling my parents I was sexually abused as a child and who had done it.

6. What is one memory you have from childhood?

Going to the toilet in my kindergarten in Kenya and wearing the blue uniform.

7. What’s the best thing about your life right now?

Not sure. My health maybe.

8. What is one thing that you’re thankful for?

A loving and supportive family.

9. What’s one thing that you fear?

Losing my friends.

10. If you could only watch one movie for the rest of your life, what would it be?

Angus, Thongs and Perfect Snogging

11. Can you tell me one thing, big or small, that you’ve never told anyone else?

I get blisters on my feet

12. If you were forced to leave your home and move to a county you’ve never been before, what are three things that you’d take with you?

My diary, laptop and my bank card. 

13. What’s a favorite memory with a pet/animal?

Walking ralph and stroking him to sleep.

14. Who are you closest to in your family?

My brothers. But my mum knows the  most about me.

15. What’s your family like?

Loving, invasive, safe, ever growing, loud and Eritrean

16. What’s your favorite flavor of ice cream?

Salted Caramel but I love a cheeky chocolate cornetto 

17. What’s your favorite joke?

The Gregg joke

18. What’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever done?

Stapled my finger 

19. If you could rewrite your past, what’s one thing you’d change?

I would kiss him back.

20. What do you think your best physical feature is?

My smile

21. What’s one thing about yourself, personality-wise, that you like?

I am an Optimist

22. When you’re feeling down, who or what is your biggest go-to person or activity?

Listening to my favourite podcasts, and talking to my best mates.

23. If you could only eat one food for the rest of your life, what would it be?

Old me would have said chocolate digestives, but I am trying to be healthy so no idea mate.

24. What’s one thing you’re super passionate about?

Reading.

25. If you had to lose one of your five senses, which would you give up and why?

Sense of smell, everything else is essential.

26. What’s the hardest thing, physically, you’ve ever done?

Surviving Masawa heat in a car with 6 other people, sitting on leather seats 

27. What’s the hardest thing, mentally, you’ve ever done or been through?

Coming to terms with my childhood trauma, and the latent issues it caused and manifested itself in destructive behavioural patterns.

28. What’s the best part about your job?

I do not work currently.

29. What’s one thing that defines who you are?

Reading and being a big sister.

30. If tomorrow was your last day on earth, what would you do in your last 24 hours?

Spending time with all my family, kissing my cousins incessantly, calling back to Eritrea, eating my favourite foods, swimming, go for a run, see my best friends .

31. What do you believe in, generally or faith-wise?

I believe in myself, I believe in being kind to people, I believe in being critical when necessary. I haven’t quite figured the rest out yet.

32. If you had to describe yourself in three words, what would they be?

I’m a Sagittarius. 

33. Where’s the coolest place you’ve ever been/traveled to?

Eritrea

34. What’s one thing people would never know about you just by looking at you?

I love X men and used to read the comics a lot.

35. What’s one thing about the opposite sex that you’re attracted to?

Their backs.

36. What are three qualities you look for in a potential date?

Communicative

Compatible

Beautiful

37. What’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever done for a girl?

I got the bus all the way to the practical outskirts of London when I was like 12 to give her a lock in the shape of a heart to let her know she was still my best friends even though we went to different schools.

38. How would others describe you?

Smart, funny a little bit crazy.

39. What’s your all-time favorite memory?

Floating in a river in Turkey looking up at the sky, waking up in the morning to have breakfast with my family in Eritrea, when David says my name, my brothers giving me a hug and a kiss everytime we say goodnight.

40. What are your parents/step-parents/guardians/people who raised you like?

Eritrean, one is a Libra, the other a Scorpio. Nuff said.

41. What’s your go-to alcoholic drink?

Disarrano and coke

42. What would be your ideal first date?

Bonfire night, huddled up together to get warm, in our cute but warm winter clothes. I am drinking dairyfree hot chocolate, November has just begun, the air is crisp and cool. We look at each other, our faces illuminated by the fireworks above us, amongst all these people I know I will be safe with them. We kiss.

43. If you could have three wishes, what would they be?

1) Return back to 2016 and start life again

2)Redistribute wealth and resources to the global south and reparations to the colonised countries

3) Protect all my cousins and brothers from ever being abused.

44. If you could a full 24 hours without any work or obligations, a day to just do whatever you wanted, what would you do?

I did try this and fell into a depressive episode so..

45. What is the best compliment you’ve ever received?

When Ali told me he liked my smile.

46. What is something you’re talented at?

Finding books when I have forgotten the name of the book, name of the author and really only know the obscure details of it.

47. What’s your favourite college memory?

Did not enjoy it enough to have a favourite experience.

48. What is your best friend like?

Funny, a Pisces, irreverent, kind, intelligent, athletic, adaptable, mysterious.

49. If you could live anywhere in the world, where would you live?

North London.

50. What’s one thing you want to do before you die?

Go to Antarctica.

51. If someone gave you a million dollars right now, what would you spend it on?

Put it all in savings and buy plane tickets for my WHOLE family to visit Eritrea one year so we can all see each other before my grandparents die.

52. Have you ever made a decision that changed your entire life? If so, what was it?

Telling my teachers I was having suicidal thoughts.

53. What’s your favourite thing to do on the weekends?

Read and drink tea

54. What’s your zodiac sign? And do you think it describes you?

Sag sun, Cap moon and Venus, Gemini rising. To a T.

55. What’s your biggest regret?

Too many to count.

56. What can always put you in a good mood?

A good cup of tea and Beyonce.

57. What’s your guilty pleasure snack, drink, or junk food?

Being a Barb and Chocolate digestives.

58. If you were forced to eat fast food for your every meal, what would be your top two places?

Five Guys.

59. What’s one thing you wish you could change about yourself?

I wish I was better being focused and also a billionaire. And to stop dwelling on the past.

60. If you had the option to hit restart and begin life all over again, would you?

YES

61. Have you ever lost someone close to you? What were they like?

In regards to death, yes my Grandfather. He loved me a lot but I couldn’t tell you anything about his personality, stoic I guess. In a broader sense of course I went to 4 different schools, so I have lost friends that way.

62. What’s your favorite social media profile?

My secret twitter, I am very wholesome on there.

63. What’s one thing that totally relaxes you when you’re stressed?

That one day everybody is going to be dead and none of this will matter eventually because our bodies are temporary things which will decay.

64. What’s a random hobby you’ve always wanted to try but never have?

Ballet.

65. When was the last time you cried, and why did you?

Cannot remember, probably a few days ago because of my academic obligations.

66. What scares you the most about the future?

Climate change and my career and my family’s health.

67. Do you want to have children someday?

Yes.

68. What do you imagine your future family will be like?

Healthy and Eritrean.

69. Have you ever done or accomplished something you never thought you could? What was it?

Yes.Telling people about my abuse.

70. What’s one thing you could never live without?

Pen and paper

71. Who is one person you could never live without?

Myself, literally.

72. What’s your favourite vacation place?

Eritrea.

73. Would you rather go out or stay in on a Saturday night?

Go out ( but I don’t very often )

74. What’s your favourite quote, line of poetry, or sentence?

“You don’t have to change, you just have to learn how to live with yourself”

75. What’s your favorite family memory?

I don’t know.

76. What’s one thing that helps you decide you can trust someone?

If they are measured, if I can relax around them.

77. Have you been in love before?

No.

78. How would you explain what ‘love’ is?

Still loving them and wanting the best for them when you are extremely angry.

79. Have you ever gotten your heart broken?

Yes.

80. What’s one thing you’ve learned about yourself from a past relationship?

I am not as slick as I think I am and physical affection makes me feel nervous.

81. What’s your biggest pet peeve?

People moving my shit and not telling me where it is,

82. What’s one thing that’s a total turn off?

Ignorance.

83. What’s one thing that’s a total turn on?

A nice voice.

84. What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done for a girl?

I don’t fucking know?!

85. What’s your go-to drink/food/activity when you’re sick and in bed?

Tea and biscuits and spicy noodles.

86. What’s the scariest thing that ever happened to you as a kid?

Watching Taken and having very vivid nightmares about it afterward.

87. Who in your family, immediate or extended, are you the most similar to?

Henok.

88. Where do you see yourself in five years?

Happy, and thriving.

89. What’s your favorite song or artist?

Fast Car- Tracy Chapman.

90. What would be your dream job?

Getting paid to read the books I want.

91. If you were writing a book about your life, what would the title be?

I don’t know what’s going on either

92. What’s your favorite word?

Sefanit. It used to be unrealistic.

93. What keeps you up at night?

My academic obligations, trauma, the idea of never being happy and the internet.

94. What’s your go-to phrase?

Good for her.

95. What’s one silly, little-kid item that you still have somewhere hidden in your room?

My unicorn pet pillow, Hayley.

96. Who is someone that’s impacted your life or helped you become who you are?

Myrto- my therapist.

97. What’s one thing you want to achieve before you die?

Go to Antarctica.

98. What’s your favorite book?

This book will save your life by AM Homes.

99. What’s one thing, silly or serious, that you’re guilty of?

Swearing a lot.

100. What makes you blissfully, completely, smile-from-ear-to-ear happy?

Reading, a good cup of tea with chocolate digestives, my best friends jokes, when David says my name, having fun with my mum, my dad calling me sweetie, hearing the right playlist at the right time and clean sheets

[carasueachterberg]

Happy New Year, friends! With the puppies launched and Bell in the process of being launched, I’ve got a little breathing room to focus on a few upcoming projects for 2020.

The first of those projects is one I’ve mentioned on the blog and been hinting about for the last few months. It’s a nonprofit initiative of Operation Paws for Homes called, Who Will Let the Dogs Out. Photographer Nancy Slattery and I created it so we could formally fundraise and work to raise awareness and resources for shelters and rescues in our rural south in the hopes of ending the senseless killing of so many good dogs.

The idea first began to take shape as I sat on a patch of gravel with a terrified pitbull named Hazel outside a South Carolina shelter last spring. We’d just escaped the deafening noise of the shelter—a metal pole building where the pounding sound of over one hundred dogs frantic with fear and excitement erupted with every visitor, employee, or new dog. Basically, all day and night.

Hazel was shaking as I coaxed her outside. I’d intended to take her for a walk or throw a ball with her in the playyard, but it had taken so long just to get outside, that instead we sat in the sunshine. She wouldn’t meet my eye or lie down, but she sat tentatively on the gravel and stared at the building as I petted her and talked to her.

I’d seen the statistics of that shelter, had interviewed the director, and knew that the odds for this terrified, shut-down dog were not good. It was likely Hazel would eventually be euthanized after suffering for weeks in the windowless, noisy building, lying on a concrete floor with no bedding or toys or comfort of any kind. There was nothing I could do and that fact simply ate at me. It motivated me to return to the shelters two more times last year, each time the conviction that I had to do something grew.

So many of the shelters I visited on my trips were doing all they could to save animals, but the need was endless. There was never enough time, help, or money, and certainly not enough adopters. Rescues made a huge difference, but I know now that we cannot rescue our way out of this problem. If we could, we would have– the people I know in rescue are some of the most convicted, determined, passionate people. They want to save dogs, but no matter how many they do, the desperate need continues.

We have to find local solutions, change attitudes, create smart laws, and support the people doing the real work at shelters and rescues, not just in the cities or at the well-funded county shelters, but in the tiny towns, down the forgotten roads where the local shelter might be in someone’s backyard or a shack inside the municipal dump.

One thing I know is that if I want to help, I’ve got to get off my little hill here in Pennsylvania and travel south. Listen to the people who are living this and then tell their stories, share what I learn, and find ways to connect the knowledge, resources, ideas, and people with the shelters and rescues that need them. I can’t simply take their dogs and move them north, yes this saves lives and yes it is critical but all it does is put a bandaid on a gaping wound that is endlessly oozing lives. We have to find a way to heal that wound.

I know that if you were sitting with Hazel on that sunny patch of gravel, if you’d seen what I saw down the dirt roads and behind chainlink fences ringed with barbed wire, you too would want to do something. It’s easy to forget where they came from when I’m cuddling puppies in my mudroom or throwing a ball for my latest foster at the dogpark. It’s easy to feel good that I’ve done something and to push aside the fact that there are so many more still suffering, so many that won’t be so lucky. And while, yes, our country has come a long way, it is not far enough. I won’t settle for better. Better certainly didn’t help Hazel.

So Who Will Let the Dogs Out intends to do just that – find a way to let the dogs out. I don’t have the solution and don’t believe there is a single solution. But I do know this is fixable.

We’ve visited shelters with tiny budgets that were bright, cheerful places where dogs lounged on raised beds and chewed filled kong toys between multiple daily walks and visits from volunteers while they awaited rescue or adoption. I met directors who work hard to connect with their community, helping to teach them the value of an animal. Where they partner with people to educate and equip them to care for their animals, having them spayed or neutered, microchipped, and give them preventatives and vaccines. I’ve encountered Humane Societies or Associations where they are working to change regulations, nurture partnerships, and create progressive facilities. Places where the tide is slowly turning.

But we’ve visited too many places where they are drowning. Where the shelter director or animal control officer or volunteers simply cannot keep up. They spend their days in an unending shell game moving dogs and shuffling cats, trying to keep as many as they can alive. There is no time or money or people to do much more than clean the kennels and fill the food bowls, and some can’t even do that. Dogs suffering? At least they’re alive. But what kind of life is it spent for months or even years in a cement kennel, bombarded with noise and neglect?

The first step to any kind of change is awareness. So that’s where we have to begin. By traveling south, Nancy and I, along with any other volunteers we take south, will start by sharing the stories. We’ll help people to know about Hazel and all the other dogs waiting and wishing, and we’ll introduce them to the heroes who work every day to save them. We’ll do our best to try to understand the problems–those unique to an individual shelter or rescue and those universal throughout the rural south. It’s not possible to fix a problem you don’t understand. (That was always my problem with geometry.)

Our next trip in March will take us to western Tennessee to the rural dog pounds and private rescues that have cropped up in the absence of county shelters, and then down to Mississippi to meet our OPH partners and other rescues. If you’d like to support us, you can do so in many, many ways.

Because undoubtedly I’ll have a new foster dog to write about soon on this blog, most of what we’re up to can be found on the blog, Who Will Let the Dogs Out, and on our Facebook page or Instagram by the same name. I hope you’ll subscribe to the blog and follow us on social media, but what I really hope is that you’ll share the posts far and wide to help us reach as large an audience as we can.

Nancy and I are more than willing to travel (a reasonable distance) to give presentations on the situation in our southern shelters. If you know of a group who would like to hear our stories and see the pictures, please don’t hesitate to reach out to me. I am desperately in search of a bigger microphone to share this message.

If you’d like to support us financially, there are lots of ways. The fundraiser for our trip is up and running on our Facebook page—all donations are tax-deductible. You can also send a check to OPH or donate through the website, just be sure to designate it for ‘Who Will Let the Dogs Out’ so it finds its way to us.

We still have Another Good Dog PA Pups calendars available for sale. Email me (cara.achterberg@rocketmail.com) to get yours. They are $20 ($25 with shipping) and feature the beautiful photography of Nancy Slattery, all the dog holidays noted, and the last page tells the story of the PA Pups;; best of all, the proceeds go to Who Will Let the Dogs Out (Waldo for short).

The last way you can help is by dropping off donations for the shelters. We will take everything donated with us to hand out on our travels. Most needed: high quality dog and puppy food (dry and canned), treats, tough-chewer toys, collars/harnesses/slip leads, flea/tick preventatives, dewormers, and Amazon, Chewy, or Tractor Supply gift cards. I updated our Who Will Let the Dogs Out amazon wishlist which makes it easy to send donations for the trip.  Otherwise, email me for address and to set up a time to drop off (carasueachterberg@gmail.com)

Bell has been enjoying her last weeks with us. She is getting healthy and strong and will soon be spayed so that her new life can begin. I’ll tell you all about that next week!

Reports are that the puppies are growing fast and settling into their new homes. There have been quite a few updates on the Another Good Dog facebook group, if you want to see for yourself.

Thanks for your support!

Cara

If you’d like regular updates all my foster dogs past and present, plus regular videos of the PA pups, be sure to join the Facebook group, Another Good Dog.

For information on me, my writing, and my upcoming book, One Hundred Dogs and Counting: One  Woman, Ten Thousand Miles, and a Journey into the Heart of Shelters and Rescues, visit CaraWrites.com.

Our family fosters through the all-breed rescue, Operation Paws for Homes, a network of foster homes in Virginia, Maryland, D.C., and south-central PA.

Recently released from Pegasus Books and available anywhere books are sold: Another Good Dog: One Family and Fifty Foster Dogs.

I love to hear from readers and dog-hearted people! Email me at carasueachterberg@gmail.com.

  It's time to bring it - awareness equal change. #nomoregooddogsdying #whowillletthedogsout #bethechange Happy New Year, friends! With the puppies launched and Bell in the process of being launched, I’ve got a little breathing room to focus on a few upcoming projects for 2020.

[fencingipswichguide-blog]

Rumored Buzz on Fences Springfield Lakes

In the event you’re in the marketplace for a brand new fence at your home, there's a chance you're thinking of a matter or two: What variety of fence Are you interested in? What top fence do you want? What materials fence Are you interested in? The 1st and most vital detail, in my humble impression, is usually to take a minute to examine your Angle concerning the fence job. Do you truly “get” the opportunity a new fence offers? Or are you presently Fencing Forest Lake stuck in a very “let’s just get this overwith” mentality? It’s fairly prevalent for your fence to become regarded when it comes to utility only. We predict of what we want to preserve within the garden, what we wish to keep out in the lawn, and perhaps what traces of sight we wish to block for privateness or to hide a little something we don’t want to see. Fencing is usually a large chance for excellent design All those are all significant, nevertheless it’s also imperative that you bear in mind a fence is a big design opportunity. A fence is essentially a wall out during the yard and thus a crucial and very obvious surface. Even generally see-by way of fences, for instance you would possibly see all around a pool spot, are still greatly a part of the landscape layout. (consequently the term “hardscape”) Maintain the design implications in mind when pondering fence options. The exciting chance to develop a beautiful outdoor Place is wonderful. What Material is Very best for Fencing? The last dilemma previously mentioned… what content should the new fence be made of?… is usually a bit sophisticated since the selections are numerous. Let’s try out and type as a result of it together. To acquire a to start with-hand think about the most current and biggest choices in fencing, I rode around the corner to The Home Depot to view the things they had to supply. I’m practically a Home Depot indigenous so not A lot surprises me, however the fencing alternatives accessible have been a lot more numerous than even I expected. Fortunately, Kenny, the Office manager in control of the fencing area was quickly at my aspect featuring help. Becoming all “Transforming Person” I didn’t think I necessary any enable, but Kenny was really a wealth of information and identified some merchandise I wasn’t mindful of and pointed me towards the practical fencing and deck section of HomeDepot.com which is an excellent useful resource. I looked at wood fencing, metal fencing, pvc fencing, and in some cases some truly amazing composite fence panels and I'm able to’t seriously say Anybody is “the ideal”. The truth is usually that it will depend on The work you’re attempting to do along with the priorities within your specific venture. So I’ll run from the listing of the most well-liked options and point out what type of task it’s ideal for. Wooden Fencing Readily available in time-preserving pre-assembled panels or by picking the sections and creating the whole fence from scratch, wood fencing has many good pros over the other available choices. Wood is much easier to work with Wood is usually more affordable than other options Wood is usually painted or stained For additional shade selections Wood could be shaped and simply Slash for Innovative design explanations or to suit odd circumstances for instance slope Over the draw back, wood has some drawbacks at the same time, most notably that Wooden is at risk of rot and insect damage. To reduce the chance of most of these injury, almost all wood fences are created away from weather conditions and insect resistant woods, for example: Pressure Dealt with Lumber – Ordinarily pine (occasionally often called SYP or Southern Yellow Pine), stress treated lumber has actually been dealt with with substances which soak in to the Wooden and make it far more resistant to rot and bugs. Pressure handled lumber is available in numerous grades as well as the grade applied for many fencing is long lasting, but not entirely impervious to regular publicity to the outdoors. By natural means Resistant Lumber – Some species of wood are Obviously proof against the perils of outdoor everyday living. These woods are normally to some degree regional, indicating you may perhaps see just one species common in a single Element of the state and rarely obtainable in other components. 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Environmentally speaking, force dealt with lumber is considered the most renewable useful resource since it’s sourced from speedy growing pine lumber plantations. To my information, most of the other Wooden options are from old-development lumber which suggests logging might have some unfavorable environmental impact. Stress Dealt with Fencing is available in many pre-assembled panel variations. The Home Depot had a massive collection of tension addressed fence elements. A variety of variations of panels, pieces, and straight lumber were being available and the type of fence you can make with them ranges from entry amount privacy fence every one of the way to a best-end custom development. Total force treated is ideal to suit your needs for those who: Like to operate with Wooden, are at ease with woodworking instruments, and so on. 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Typically marketed in panels along with crucial elements for example posts, put up caps, gates, and hardware, Vinyl fencing is offered in a wide range of pre-assembled styles. My most loved may be the reliable panels with about one foot of open up lattice on best (also Vinyl). Most of the Vinyl fencing you’ll see is reliable white in colour, which fits every one of the way by way of the fabric encouraging it survive dings and scrapes, but can also be available in other hues. Vinyl fencing is ideal in your case in case you: Desire the clean up white appear of Vinyl Don’t want to worry about portray or other maintenance Don’t want to worry about bug damage or rot (Vinyl is impervious to both)

Are cozy which has a tape measure and location posts in concrete (submit placement is important) Have a little bit of more money to spend Vinyl_Fencing_1 Composite Fencing As has occurred in the world of Wooden decking, special artificial products, aka ‘composites’, are a increasing selection in the fencing globe. Not like vinyl which is usually restricted to easy surfaces, composites could be shaped into exclusive shapes and styles including the 1 revealed in the image beneath, accessible being a Particular buy through the House Depot. Composite Fencing is Available in Colors and Designs other supplies are unable to match Composite fencing is ideal to suit your needs in the event you: Are cozy with a higher-finish funds Want a unique glance that blends an improved While using the landscape compared to PVC (Vinyl) Involve a completely routine maintenance cost-free and very long-time period kind finished item Can have Experienced installers or are a relatively experienced DIYer (the posts in the fence like revealed higher than needs to be exactly spaced, plumb, and square) Metallic Fencing Very last although not the very least is the huge number of metallic fencing possibilities offered. Chain Backlink Fence Wire Fence (hen wire, farm wire, barbed wire, and many others) Aluminum Fence Wrought Iron Metal fencing, In particular aluminum, can be quite a fantastic household selection in places in which durability and weather resistance is vital. Frequently observed all over pools and outside residing parts like courtyards, aluminum is mostly only available as a professionally installed selection. wire_fencing_2Other different types of metal fencing, On the flip side, which include chain-url and wire fencing possibilities are wonderful Do-it-yourself tasks which shouldn’t be counted out without thought. If you’re Innovative, a combination of wood and metallic wire may result in an incredible hunting fence that’s special, long lasting, useful, and cheap. Everything Is determined by You! If absolutely nothing else, I hope this information opens up your brain a little bit to the chances available to you when creating a fence. The choices are wide plus the prospective to build a lovely and inspiring outside Room may be very true. I’d recommend you are doing like I did… head out to The house Depot and Have a look at what they may have. Maintain an open up intellect and Believe creatively. You’re certain to think of anything magnificent!