#Friend shapes is cleared again - a really good batch this time! :D

[sysig]

~

[writingwithcolor]

Gingerbread man as golem

@yaronata asked:

I would like to write a character who is Jewish and uses a Golem. She's based on the D&D class of the artificer which looks magic but isn't, because they produce all their effects with inventions, like the "any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic" quote. Her story is that her very Jewish town was under attack from a terrible monster when she was little. Her Rabbis made a Golem to protect the town, and it succeeded but was torn to pieces in the process. She was fascinated by the Golem and as a kid didn't see a big difference between it's sentience and person's so was really thankful for its sacrifice like you would a person's sacrificing their life for you. They thought all the pieces had been devoured by the monster before it died, but she went looking and found the piece used to animate the Golem, which she, kinda misunderstanding called its "heart". She kept the piece and grew up to be an incredibly skilled cook, specialising as a baker in the town. I imagine she would make a lot of really good food for the Jewish holidays, or to break fasts on ones like Yom Kippur or Tish'abav. But she also made a town specific holiday to honour the Golem's sacrifice and the town still being alive, because I feel "we are not dead woo" is a big theme for Jewish holidays from my research, so it could fit, for which she invented ginger bread men to be the golem, and gave them little "hearts" of fruit or honey, and you're meant to eat them limb by limb like the beast did before eating the heart. This would be the inspiration for using the "heart" piece later to make her own giant gingerbread Golem to help her save the world.

These are my questions 1) would it be considered bad or disrespectful for someone who isn't a Rabbi to make a Golem, or is this method of taking an animating piece someone else made disrespectful? 2) Her journey will take her far from her town and her Jewish family and friends and she will likely travel with gentiles. Would it be disrespectful for a Golem to be used to protect a lot of gentiles and one Jew in the course of saving the world? I don't want to fall into the stereotype of someone putting all their effort into valuing and protecting very specifically the group that in real life is oppressive to them. 3) While she is not using magic and is actually mimicking its effects with technology she invents, is this drawing too close to the line of "magical Jew"? 4) I like to "play test" my characters in ttrpgs to really get a feel for them before I write. Would it be disrespectful to play a Jewish character when I am a gentile, and would it be disrespectful to play a Jewish character in a setting where there are demonstrably real gods other than the one of Judaism?

I really like this character idea and I think it's cute and fun and rooted in Jewish culture but I really want to make sure it's respectful and as good as I, a gentile researching on the internet, thinks it is. Thanks so much! Have a nice day!

My answer to this is very complicated because there are things I both like and do not like about this premise. First of all, I love the idea of a cookie golem, and I'm even imagining the magic word that brings him to life (EMET/truth) would be written in icing. And I'm okay with the part about how she found a piece of the old golem and used it to build a new golem, because that makes sense for a golem made from a baked good when you think about how people use sourdough starter to make a new batch of sourdough.

However, here are the thing that make me cock my head to the side like my little sister's German shepherd:

1. re: "magical Jew" - that's not a trope I've ever heard of. Remember, marginalized groups don't receive identical disrespect across the board. It is indeed a trope to use Black people or disabled people as supernatural plot devices who exist only to further the stories of white main characters or able-bodied main characters. But I can't say as I've ever seen anyone using Jewishness that way. Usually if we are someone's one-dimensional plot device it's as someone's lawyer, fixer, "money guy", etc, not a supernatural force. So this isn't something you have to worry about.

2. I have a certain level of discomfort with you playing as a Jewish character just because playacting as a marginalized culture you're not part of strikes me as off, but I understand that that's how you gain insight into a character you're about to write so it's more of a writing exercise than anything else. (I wonder if D&D regulars from marginalized groups have written about this -- I've only played a few times casually with family so if I did run into this type of discussion in my social justice reading I wouldn't have absorbed it. If anyone is curious I played first as Captain Werewolf, and then switched to playing as Cinnamon Blade because lawful good was too hard. :P )

3. I would prefer you omit the detail about eating the cookies piece by piece symbolically, for two reasons: a. it unintentionally evokes Communion by having appreciative people consume a baked good symbolic of an entity who sacrificed his life for theirs, and b. focusing on the details of flesh consumption reminds me too much of Blood Libel (yes, a gingerbread man is in the shape of a person but how many of us actually think about it literally, the way this act would cause?)

As to your first question: I'm fine with her making a golem even though she's just a rando. Second question: I see what you're saying and maybe it could be more okay if it's really clear how well these gentile folks are treating her? And questions three and four are answered above.

I really do love the idea of a giant gingerbread man golem. Cookie golem T_T <3

--Shira

I would like to second Shira’s point about not ripping apart the gingerbread cookies. I honestly would prefer they were used as decoration, and other cookies eaten instead, since that part just feels so not-Jewish to me, but I don’t have golem-specific issues other than that. It seems like you have already been doing a lot of research, which is appreciated.

As far as the ttrpg/DnD aspect… I bounce back and forth on the topic of playing characters that are so very different from our experiences, other than in fantasy-related ways. However, I am aware that a lot of people will play with, and experiment with gender in game, and learn something about themselves in the process (the number of trans players of ttrpgs who tried out their gender in game before they were out is high). It’s different with Judaism, and even more significantly different when it comes to things you can’t convert into, like various actual, real-world races. But because people do sometimes experience growth from experiences like this, I’m hesitant to dissuade players completely. I do urge you to, at a minimum, bring the same care, research, and willingness to learn, that you brought to this question.

--Dierdra

This sounds like a creative storyline that you could have lots of fun with 😊

At first I was confused by this part:

She also made a town specific holiday to honour the Golem's sacrifice

But then you really got me thinking about different types of Jewish holidays and how they come about, so thank you for that!

Because it’s often the little details that either make a story super powerful or kind of nonsensical, I think it would be a good idea to decide what type of holiday is being created here:

A full-blown chag with restrictions on labour and halachic obligations? These are commanded in Torah and new ones can’t be added.

A minor yom tov with halachic obligations but no restrictions? These were instituted by the rabbis prior to the destruction of the Temple, so again new ones can’t be added.

A public holiday or equivalent? This would usually be declared by the Knesset in Israel, and filter to the rest of the Jewish world from there.

A community-based yom tov with specific customs only for people in the know, such as certain Chasidic groups celebrating the birthdays of their deceased leaders? I asked around, but no one can really tell me how these holidays get started, which is probably a good indication that they arise quite organically from a group of people who all just feel that it should be celebrated. Probably not created by a single person, as such.

Something she runs from her bakery, not religion-based, but more like a day of doing special products and deals the way many small businesses do on their anniversary?

Now, if the people of a modern-day town were actually saved by a real live Golem, that would arguably be the most overt miracle for many generations, so there would be a decent chance of options 3 and/or 4 happening. It’s entirely plausible that there could be special foods for this day that become a tradition, including Golem cookies. People who directly benefited might also return to the site where the Golem fought the monster and recite the prayer, ‘Blessed is Hashem, Master of the Universe, Who performed a miracle for me in this place.’

Alternatively, if it’s important that your MC created the holiday, something like option 5 might be the best. Hopefully this will still fulfil what you need: you describe her as incredibly skilled, so I can imagine the day when she goes all out on the Golem cookies being one of the most exciting events of the year for the townspeople, just because her baking is that good. Plus, they already have a personal stake in the Golem’s sacrifice, so I definitely think it could be a thing without being an official holiday. Also, if she is outside of an all-Jewish environment, don’t forget that she would have to decide whether to commemorate the anniversary in the Hebrew calendar or the local one.

Coming back to the cookies, sorry if we’re getting a little repetitive on this point! But I don’t see the cookies being torn limb from limb as part of a celebration. First of all, this doesn’t sound like a very celebratory thing to do, to say the least. Can you imagine explaining that to a three-year-old on their first Yom HaGolem? They would be terrified! (I don’t read this suggestion as accidental anti-Semitism so much as getting carried away with a metaphor, which I’m sure as writers we have all done!)

But also, it’s worth pointing out that our commemorative foods aren’t usually that literal. If you think about hamantaschen, maror, or apple in honey, they’re all symbols. That’s not to say that having Golem-shaped cookies is a problem, as this sounds like just a bit of fun that the MC is having and not something that is directly at odds with Judaism or Jewish culture. But it’s worth bearing in mind that the more literal you go from there in terms of tying the cookies to the event they commemorate, the less culturally aligned your holiday food becomes.

Finally, about the Golem protecting non-Jewish people: I like this idea! There’s a stereotype that we only use whatever is at our disposal to help ourselves and other Jewish people, so a Golem being created by Jews but helping others as well is a big plus for me. Of course, as has already been pointed out, this would be an odd choice if her Saving The World team were anti-Semitic or otherwise disrespectful to her/her community, but I don’t think you were headed that way!

-Shoshi

I have to come back in here just to squee over the phrase “Yom HaGolem.” Well done :D

--Shira

[litgwritersroom]

The Bobby McKenzie Couple Alphabet

A = Activities. What does he like to do as a couple?

Mario Kart; having friends over; road trips; karaoke. Nights out are his favourite, and he wants to be with a girl who loves his mates and they love her. He's not into sport, but he'll happily go along because it's a social event. Literally anything social; he craves people around him, so hanging out with each other's families is also something he'd love. Board games? Blanket forts? He's certified Uncle Bobby, whether blood or not.

B = Beauty. What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

When he's in love, he's in near constant adoration. From the little things like the way she laughs at his jokes, his heart picking up at seeing her all dressed up, and then again when she's all dressed down in sweatpants and his t-shirt. He'll remember the shape of her birthmark, the trails of her freckles, the exact spots she's ticklish.

He knows it's there. It's like when you have a book you love so much you have it memorised; you keep rereading it and discovering new lines, and different interpretations, making you fall in love with the book again.

C = Comfort. How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

Words of affirmation and plenty of cuddles, really will listen to her to figure out what she needs from him, and will do whatever that is. Everyone's comfort in a situation like this is different, so it's all about figuring out what's right for her. Is it quiet? Is it stillness? Is it someone to hole their hand? He'll do whatever. Once they're somewhere she can feel safe again, he's already planning on baking up a batch of cupcakes.

D = Dreams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

Since probably day three, he's been picking MC as a mum. He's absolutely dreaming about them doing lame family holiday stuff. Without fail, the thought alone makes his heart flutter. That little family dream is complete with him running his own bakery, the kids sitting around one table as they wait for the place to close up, doing their homework, their parents flirting as they tidy up for the end of the day. Together, they all head back home to the nice house with the dog waiting. The dog is called something like Biscuit, Fudge, Cocoa, Jelly, or Pudding.

E = Excitement - How does he express excitment?

He gets loud, excitable, like a kid who's had too much sweets; he can't help himself, but to touch her constantly, can't keep his eyes off of her, always checking in, checking she's looking back at him, laughing along, having a good time around him. He's cracking joke after joke just so she'll look at him as much as he's looking at her.

F = Fights. Would they find it easy to forgive their s/o? How would they fight?

Fight: he sulks for a bit. But also he's flighty. He needs space to clear his head. And he sometimes says and does things he'll regret in order to get that space. Hot Take / Unpopular Opinion: Bobby would have slept on the daybeds post-Dylan. But would have done an Em's Bruno and come to his senses a few hours later.

He probably tries to fix things on his own at first. He hates fighting so he tries to change the conversation/ distract them. Mostly, he'll jump for conclusions and misunderstandings are very common with him. He needs to learn to talk things through first.

G = Gratitude. How grateful are they in general? And if so, how aware are they of what their s/o does for them?

Bakes, bakes, and bakes. He'll give her plenty of tasty treats, and then even really show his gratitude by doing some eating of his own. So long as someone is eating out, he's a happy boy.

H = Honesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

Yes. Bobby feels a real urge to not burden people with his issues. He's forged an identity as 'the fun one' that 'never takes anything too seriously', so when things start to get heavy he starts feeling like people aren't going to want him around. However, as he grows closer to his s/o, those walls will come crumbling down. While he may not broach the subject, he'll certainly let his s/o know that it's there as he gets comfortable enough to open up.

On the flip side, though, he also loves to surprise her. Picture him being way too excited and spoiling her present before she opens it, but also being able to keep a surprise party a secret for weeks because he knows its important. Quote: That's why his hair is so big, its full of secrets.

I = Inspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

Likes to bring out the best in one another. It makes him happy to know he's trying to be a better person for her, and to know she's doing the same back.

He also listens to the little things his s/o says and thinks of ways to turn them into recipes. "You said that you really liked that elderflower and lime cordial they had at that party so I made you an elderflower and lime tart. Can you tell me if its weird?"

J = Jealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

When they begin, he'd get jealous, though he'd never show it, and never admit to it, but as the relationship grows, he learns he's got nothing to fear, and that jealousy would disappear, letting him be the cool and collected Bobby he always wants to be.

K = Kiss. How do they kiss? Who initiated the first kiss?

He initiates first. He likes to hold her by the hips, steady and close. When he kisses, it's one where you can feel him smiling, the warmth just radiating through in touch alone, like he almost can't believe his luck.

His secret weapons for a deeper, more passionate kiss, is biting her lip, softly at first, and adding more oomph as it kicks in; when the tongue slips out, that's when it really gets fiery. He pulls her in close, gripping her by her waist. Every kiss of desire is followed by a second, shorter, sweet peck, leading to a smile, which, with Bobby, could lead into a joke.

Even when he's being serious, he's making her laugh. He kisses to leave an impact.

L = Love - Who says 'I love you' first?

Bobby for sure. He's blurting it out in a fit of love, being entirely overwhelmed by how he's feeling in that moment, like she's a ray of sunshine giving him all the life in the world.

He might regret not making it special and just blurting it out in the moment, but to her, the gesture is genuine and that just makes her love it more.

M = Memory - What's their favourite memory together?

The moment they realised they were falling in love. In moments from catching them with frosting on their nose in the kitchen, dancing and being silly, wearing fuzzy socks with the music turned up too loud, to seeing her meet his family, and the first time he saw her holding a baby and realised that this was it, this was the start of the family he would make for himself, with this person.

And the moment he realised that he'd gone past the the point of falling, and that this was it for him.

N = Nose - Boop?

Boopiest of boops. Boop King, and the requirement of being Mrs Bobby McKenzie is being the Boop Queen. Boop? Boop.

O = Orange. What colour reminds them of their other half?

Orange, like the sunset and the sunrise, that bright glow bleeding into an rainbow of purples, blues, and pinks like a perfect twilight. It brings memories of when they met, of that feeling of being content and not needing anything more than what's in front of you in the moment. Orange in particular glows bright in his mind as the colour of summer, of the breeze, of the challenges, the dates, seeping into each and every memory.

P = Pet Names - What do they call their s/o?

There is no one right answer to this, so we each came up with one favourite each. Lass, Princess, and in the shame corner is Bia, with Daddy (she's Daddy).

Expect a whole array of cute little names at random times. He is not above dropping the occasional baby, bae, or sweetheart, too.

Q = Quirk - Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

Some would consider his baking a quirk. But another weird one? All those years of decorating intricate cupcakes has given him an extremely steady hand. Need someone to thread a needle? Get a splinter out?

Also, canon that he gives great massages. All those hours kneading dough have certainly come through for him.

R = Romance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

Bobby is super romantic but not forced romance. He purely is. Love takes him away and it's a great part of his life. He is both cliché and creative. He doesn’t do it because he has to but because he can’t exist if he’s not making her smile.

S = Support - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

Without a doubt. Bobby is encouraging, supportive, and invested.

T = Thrill - Would they try out new things to spice up the relationship?

Wide open. Receiving. Spread out, even. If she's got a fantasy, he will do it. She doesn't even have to ask. He is up for trying anything once, even if it scares him a little, and if he’s genuinely comfortable, he’d be open to suggesting a few rather risky moves.

He never thought he'd be into spanking a girl, but the first time she sucked in air through her teeth at the pain, he was hooked. He's never felt more powerful. It's addictive to him. And if she's open to exploring that further, he could definitely have a rough side he's willing to let loose. His more dominating side is something that would need to be coaxed out of him by someone he trusts and can be open with.

U = Urgency - What are they like in an emergency that involved their s/o?

During an emergency, Bobby shows his protective side. You might see a Bobby you've never met when his loved one is endangered. He will be raging if she's afraid, stuck or hurt, and he'll straight up carry her princess style to the nearest hospital. If it's something more complex, he'll definitely want to help and will seek more experienced voices to guide him, like an older friend or family member

V = Value - How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

Bobby lives to love. It’s the biggest part of him, and it just pours through without him even meaning to. Does this even really need to be addressed? It is EVERYTHING to him. This is the kind of love he's waited his whole life for, and he knows how lucky he is to have found it. It's the be all and end all for him; he prioritises her above everything else in his life. Some people might think that's excessive, but that's just him. He's all in.

W = Wild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

He has lipbalms all around his apartment, because he keeps seeing new flavours he wants to try. She'll randomly kiss him and one day he tastes like cherries, the next it's mandarin.

X = XOXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

Sends everything and anything. Expect a row of kisses in his send off one day and nothing the next. Random pics with no text? Memes? Garth Brooks eating a bowl of corn on the beach dressed as a pastor? Sure! Can be super cute with his messages, but also very goofy. Just enjoys the thought that whatever he’s messaging will bring a smile to their face.

And if they're spending the night apart, he'll always end with an 'i love you, goodnight', and as soon as he opens his eyes the next morning, he's got his phone in hand ready to be the first person to tell her good morning.

Y = Yearning - How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

Badly. Curls up into a ball and misses her terribly like he did in Casa Amor, completely disappearing from the lives going on around him. The type to message a lot if she doesn't find that sort of thing annoying. On the clingy side for sure. Will check out all her socials for the slightest updates in a regular fashion. May even get in his own head that he's maybe being a tad creepy, so backs off, but then when he gets the first sign of life from her his brain completely melts.

Z = Zeal - Are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

Absolutely. He'll go to the ends of the earth for her. Including moving overseas. He'll be extremely nervous about leaving Scotland, but he's always up for an adventure as long as its with her.

[equalseleventhirds]

Pilgrimage

I made a fun & friendly post about considering all the fates worse than death for a tragedy, and I got to talking to myself about it. Self, I said, if you were asked to write a terrible fate worse than death for these boys, what would it be? Well about that…

 - - -

Georgie hasn’t been to visit Jon since the apocalypse ended. Or, before that probably, she certainly hadn’t been popping in for a cuppa when she was trying to cut him out of her life. But then the world ended, and then unended, and Melanie has been insisting on having him around for dinner, or to go on a shopping trip, or just to visit the Admiral. Because they’re friends. Because this is what friends do: meet up, talk, and make sure their other friends aren’t alone.

Melanie’s been to visit Jon. Georgie hadn’t gone with her.

The… place where he lives is too creepy, she thinks. It was probably creepy back when Smirke built it, it was extra creepy when it was some impossible tower, and it’s still creepy now, even if it’s fallen down to earth. The Eye’s tower.

-

“So this is it? The Panopticon, or whatever?” Georgie felt Melanie’s hand shaking, and tightened her grip.

“…yes. I’m afraid so.”

Martin rolled his eyes. “See what I said about him being ominous?”

-

Jon opens the door before she knocks. It’s either some remnant of power in him, or he’d been watching out the window after Melanie called him. Georgie doesn’t ask.

“Hey, Jon.”

“Georgie. Hi.”

She steps inside, then stops. “Shoes on or off?”

“Oh, er… on. I haven’t quite finished cleaning all the… Shoes are probably better on.”

-

Jon was panting, standing over the nearly-empty chair where Jonah Magnus once sat. Martin laid a hand on his arm. “You did it, Jon. He’s gone.”

“That’s it? All done? You killed the big bad guy, so the apocalypse ends?”

He barely even winced at her tone. “It’s—I don’t think it’s going to be quite that simple—”

“Then why are we here—”

-

“Melanie sends her love, by the way.”

“Does she?”

“Yes.” She holds his gaze as levelly as she can. He just grins at her, holding his hand palm-out until she rolls her eyes and reaches into her bag. “Fine, and she sends her latest batch of halwa.”

“Thank you,” he says, plucking the container out of her hand and immediately popping it open to try a piece. “Mm… you can tell her she’s almost as good as my grandmother now.”

Georgie can’t hold back her laugh at that, short and disbelieving and a laugh, which she wasn’t sure she’d ever accomplish here. “Your grandmother always bought halwa at the store, you told me so—”

“Ah, yes. But I haven’t told Melanie, have I?”

“Jonathan Sims!”

-

It hurt. She’d thought she was immune to fear, to the fears, and maybe she was, to smaller ones. Normal ones. Real ones. But every ounce of impossible, enormous Fear that had clawed its way into their universe was bearing down on the tower at once, and Georgie wasn’t afraid, but it hurt.

“What now? What do we do? Jon, Jon, what happened, what do we do?”

“I…” She could see a trickle of blood coming from his nose… his eye… Hadn’t Martin said Jon couldn’t See anything about the Fears? Was that what he was trying to do? “I think… we can still stop it, maybe, but it’s… the tower, Jonah’s throne…”

“What do we have to do?”

-

They make it through about an hour, sharing out the halwa between them and chatting, about the books Jon finally has time to read, about the podcasts Georgie’s gotten Melanie into, about the really huge rug Jon’s planning to order when he gets everything cleaned up enough. It’s… it isn’t normal, but nothing’s really ever going to be normal again, is it? But it’s almost nice.

Except then she has to go and say the halwa’s made her thirsty (and it is sweet and dense and perfect, Melanie did an amazing job and she’s going to rat Jon out as soon as she gets home, and Georgie really cannot eat something that sweet at her age without something to wash it down). And then Jon gets up to make tea. And stops at the cupboard, and pulls out three mugs.

He doesn’t look at her, keeps his eyes on the kettle, on the mugs, on the tea bags, on his hands. But eventually he says, low but clear: “Whenever I make tea, I. Um. Bring some to him. He can’t really drink it, but it helps me feel better.”

And what can she say to that?

-

Jon stared at the seat, the throne, horror dawning on his face. She could tell—they all could tell—that he Knew what to do. He just had to tell them.

Martin grabbed his arm, shook him, spun him around to look at them. “Jon. I know this is—hard, for you. But what do we need to do?”

“Not us. Me. What I need to do. Someone touched by the eye, and who more than me?” He was biting at his lips, and she recognized the rhythm, from when he was stressed from essay after essay and trying to calm himself. “I have to take his seat. There has to be a king.”

“If there’s a king—” Melanie’s voice was strained, from the fear or the Fear, and Georgie tightened her grip again “—then wouldn’t it just be the same? Someone ruling over this, this ‘ruined world’?”

Jon was already shaking his head. “No, not if it’s now. Not if it’s someone who wants to stop it. Dream logic, remember? Except.”

“Except?” Melanie prompted.

“Except they won’t be able to leave. They’ll be—be trapped in the fear forever. In everyone’s fears, forever. Like I was, with the dreams, but for seven billion people—”

Georgie couldn’t help the gasp at that. “The dreams like we—with you watching all the time—”

“—or, more like our journey here, when we went through all those domains,” he continued, as if he couldn’t hear her. Maybe he couldn’t, with all his attention locked on Martin, drinking him in like it would be the last time he ever saw his face. “Because, because it’s here, and I said—Martin, I told you at the beginning, the eye can’t see inside itself, so I’d be—”

“Alone,” Martin whispered. “Always watching, and alone.”

-

She goes with him. Of course she goes with him. On some level, that’s what this visit has been about—seeing Jon, sure, but also seeing… Martin.

Martin is the whole reason Jon’s here, after all. Living in the ruins of the Panopticon. Living at all.

Georgie doesn’t look away. Doesn’t wait in the other room (the little living space Jon had made with curtains and boxes and a folding divider Melanie found for him), safe and ignorant. She knows Jon wouldn’t blame her. Might encourage her, if she brought it up, even if she said she had to go.

She thinks she might blame herself if she did.

It’s still difficult to stand there and watch without some kind of distraction, though, so she does bring her tea with her.  Bobs the bag up and down (Jon remembers she likes to leave it in even after she adds sugar and milk, like some kind of monster, he’d teased back in uni, before that word became so damn loaded), clinks the spoon against the side.

She’s trying not to stare, but there’s not a lot else to look at, besides… there’s not a lot else to look at. He must have brought that little end table in here pretty soon after moving in, set it up next to the chair with a lamp and a book and… a pillow on the floor next to it.

She doesn’t ask.

Now Jon sets the third mug down and carefully, carefully pries Martin’s hand off the arm of the chair, pushes his fingers to curl around the mug, guides them down together to the table. He keeps one hand on the mug, like he’s afraid Martin will move suddenly and spill it. Maybe it’s happened before.

There’s only so long she can avoid looking, of course. And Martin looks… a lot like the last time she saw him, just after the end of the end of the world. Very, very still, sitting upright, although Jon’s gotten him some cushions and a blanket since then. His eyes are still wide, too wide, and staring at nothing. At everything. At everything but what matters.

And his lips are slowly, slowly moving.

-

“But why does it have to be you! It’s always you! The whole world is touched by the Eye now, isn’t it? Can’t it be—I wanted you to—”

“I’m—I ended the world, Martin, it’s only right I fix it.” He was pleading now. “I just—Martin, please.” Jon reached up, curling his hand around the back of Martin’s neck, and pulled him down until their lips just brushed.

He closed his eyes, and Georgie wanted to look away, leave them this one last moment together. She’d be glad, later, that she didn’t, that she kept watching, watched them kiss, watched their tears, watched Jon break away and head towards the chair. Watched Martin grab him and push him away, taking the seat himself.

“Martin, no—”

Martin turned his head, slow, so slow, smiling one last time at Jon. “When are you going to stop blaming yourself?”

-

“Is he… talking?” She moves closer, squinting. “What… what’s he saying?”

Jon smiles, brushing his thumb over Martin’s slow-moving lips. “The same things he said to people in the apocalypse, of course. No matter how many times I told him they couldn’t hear him.”

And Georgie can see it now, the minute shapes, forming words as familiar as any casual conversation.

Excuse me… Sorry about this… How are you?… You’ll get through this… Just hang on… Hi there…

- - -

End notes: Every once in a while (not every night, bcos he has 7 billion ppl to get through), if someone were to look at the unchanging body of Martin Blackwood, and if they were good at reading lips, that someone might be able to see him talking one Jonathan Sims through his fear dreams. Of course, no one does see that; the only person who’s close enough would be asleep at the time.

[nxrthmizu]

-Lordbug, Robin and Kitty Noir- Chapter Ten: In Which Three Superheroes Becomes Four

---

/Part One//Part Nine/

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[I’m back! With an update1 :D]

Description: 

Warnings: Cursing! Loads of it, actually. 

[As always message me if error spotted! Wasn’t sure if I missed something while proof reading once (1)]

---

Marinette was actually, very surprised. 

She wasn’t panicking at all. The Marinette of a year ago would’ve scrambled everywhere, screeching and breaking down at frightening degrees. Perhaps it was Plagg’s influence and the fact that the black cat miraculous rested on her ring finger. Perhaps that was what calmed her down. Or perhaps it was the knowledge that her two best friends of her life would be next to her no matter what. Or maybe... Just maybe, it was because she had a higher self-confidence. Her designs had been tailored and altered (Within 12 hours, mind you) to perfection and to her level of self-satisfaction, and she had hand-washed, blow-dried, and ironed then all, hanging them up in hangers, waiting for the great moment. 

“Did you hear? Bruce Wayne is coming to Paris!” A student chattered to his friend. “The billionaire, Bruce Wayne!” 

“Woah! I hope we’re lucky enough to catch a glimpse of him.” His friend replied wistfully. 

“He’s done so much charity work!” Rose exclaimed, a wide smile of her face. “I hope I get to meet him!” 

Lila gave Rose a bright grin. “What a coincidence! Bruce Wayne is my godfather- I could ask him to talk to you if you want!” 

Damian rolled his eyes. “I thought Tony Stark was your godfather.” He muttered under his breath. Using his father’s name like that- Honestly, at this point he was physically fighting the urge to prove her wrong. 

“Really? That’s so great!” Rose exclaimed, stars glinting in her eyes. “You really are the best, Lila!” 

The Italian girl brushed it off casually. “I was best friends with his son, David Wayne, in primary. Before I left Gotham, he confessed to me.” Lila sighed dreamily. “Unfortunately, I had to leave Gotham, but he promised that if we ever met again, he would date me. He said it was meant to be.” 

Damian was seconds from vomiting from sheer disgust. 

“Wow!” Alya grinned. “How old were you two when you met?” 

Lila flipped her bangs over her shoulder, a convincing, wistful smile on her lips. “We met when he was five.” She sighed, as if remembering a distant memory. “I used to play with his brothers, along with him. They were all so sweet and so nice to me.” 

Damian made a gagging noise in his throat, which did not go unnoticed by the bluenette next to him, who elbowed him playfully, gesturing for him to keep quiet. She pointed to her phone, which he was delighted to see, had the recording app on. Every word of Lila’s was being recorded, word for word, lie for lie. His lips lit up with a wide grin, a slightly (Only slightly) evil spark in his emerald eyes. Chloe resisted the urge to do her evil laugh. 

“What goes around, comes around.” Chloe sung in a sing-song voice, just loud enough for the three friends (Classmates, Chloe said) to hear. 

---

“Alright, we have everything!” Marinette breathed, checking over all her emergency materials and her backups of backup plans. Plagg hovered over her shoulder, a camembert macaron in his hand. The bluenette had rushed home as soon as school let out, taking the few hours she had before the show preciously. 

“Uh, kid, i think you’re forgetting something.” He said nervously. “Don’t you need a dress?” 

Marinette froze, the gears in her brain realising exactly how correct the chaos god was. “God, you’re right.” Her gaze was fearful as she begin to panic (Habits die hard). 

“Calm down, kid!” Plagg forced out as he swallowed a mouthful of camembert macaron. “Don’t you have that gown that you were working on for Clara Nightingale? You could use that.” 

Her blue hair in between her fingers, Marinette shook her head. “No, I can't do that. She’s my client, I can’t possibly-” The sentence was cut off with the bluenette’s continuous pacing. 

“What about the black dress you were working on a week ago?” Plagg reminded her. “You haven’t finished it yet, but there’s time.” 

Marinette’s eyes lit up. “Yes! I can finish that, yes, yes, yes.” She murmured to herself, shuffling over to her table where stacks of designs and fabrics lay in one giant mess. With a wave of his small paw, Plagg sorted out all the fabrics and made the workspace clear, which earned him an impressed look from his holder. 

“Hey, I can create chaos, but I can solve chaos too, kid. I’m more powerful than you think. And this batch of camembert macarons are really nice!” Plagg shrugged, taking another munch. 

Marinette giggled. “Thanks, kitty.” She kissed him lightly on the cheek, dashing into her closet to dig out her unfinished dress- She had a fashion show to be at, and she needed to look stunning. 

Moments later, Marinette emerged from her closet with a hanger- With a gorgeous- Even half-finished- Dress hanging from it. Black netting- Tinged with silver threads- Formed the collar, dipping into a dark, velvety, black fabric. A heart neckline, perfectly shaped, would show just the perfect amount of the wearer’s collarbone. The top half of the dress was made to hug Marinette’s curves just nicely while the bottom half blossomed into a full, perfect ballgown. The folds of the dress were all evenly distributed. The bluenette had spent hours after school hand-sewing sparkly pearls onto the dress to make it appear like a night sky- Unfortunately, half of dress was still without it’s pearls. 

Marinette bit her lip, looking over the gown. “Alright, I can finish this. I have...” She glanced over at her clock. “Two hours until we have to start preparing for the fashion show...” She nodded steadily to herself. “I got this.” 

“You got this, kid!” Plagg munched approvingly. “Also, I’m just going to discreetly go steal some more of your camembert macarons from downstairs.” This earned him a disapproving look from his holder, but the kwami teleported downstairs anyway. 

---

Ding-a-ling!

A dark-haired boy stepped into the bakery, the familiar, sweet smell of the shop wafting into his nose. He had become accustomed to the sweet scent that came with the Dupain-Cheng’s bakery. 

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Dupain- I mean, Sabine.” He smiled sheepishly as the shorter Chinese woman wagged her finger playfully at him, the playful grin on her lips identical to her daughter’s. 

“Good afternoon, Damian. Would you like some macarons? Recently, Marinette’s been baking a lot of camembert macarons.” Sabine laughed, and Damian, who had no time to protest, could only thank her. The Chinese woman disappeared behind the shop for a while, emerging with a tray of pastel yellow macarons. Damian eyed the tray warily, and in a second, after he blinked, one of the macarons disappeared. He reared back, alarmed, but Sabine, apparently, didn’t notice and only offered him one of the macarons. He took it, looking around carefully. A black blur slammed into the wall, disappearing after that. He could’ve sworn that the black blur held a macaron in it’s hands- Or paws, whatever. 

“Thank... Thank you, Sabine.” Damian said, swallowing the macaron. He coughed, trying to muster up his courage. “Since... Since Marinette’s got her fashion show tonight, I was... I was hoping you could show me how to bake something for her, so I can give it to her.” He was more than embarrassed about his request, and the short, dark-haired woman’s bright beam wasn’t helping the situation. 

The woman nodded. “Ooh, so it’s a surprise? Of course, then! We should make some strawberry cream-puffs- Those are her favourite!” Sabine kept talking animatedly, leading him into the bakery as he filed the new information about his angel in a safe place in his mind. Strawberry cream puffs. Strawberry cream puffs. Strawberry cream puffs. 

“Tom, guess who’s here!” Sabine lead the awkward boy into the bakery kitchen, where the large man Tom Dupain was retrieving a tray of freshly baked bahulu’s (I did my research on pastries okay) from the oven, with a dark blue mitten with a golden MDC embroidery on the side- The trademark of Marinette’s work. 

“Hi.” Damian waved awkwardly, wanting to melt into a puddle right there and then. Maybe he’d been hanging out with Marinette too much- Her habits were rubbing onto him. 

“Well look who it is!” Tom exclaimed with a bright smile, Damian backtracking with a horrified smile as the big man reached for a hug. Damian coughed, being nearly strangled to death as he got bear-hugged until Sabine tapped her husband on his shoulder, gesturing to the pale, oxygen-deprived boy. “Oops.” Tom chuckled, scratching his neck nervously. “Sorry about that.” 

Damian coughed, catching his breath. “It’s- it’s fine. Um, can I learn how to make that...” He waved his hands around awkwardly. “Strawberry cream puff?” 

Tom’s eyes lit up. “Of course! That’s our little Mari’s favourite since she was five.” Tom handed him an apron. “Let’s get started, then!” 

---

“Yum.” Plagg licked his... Lips? Whiskers?- Patting his little paws together to get rid of the flour on them. Marinette was blasting music through her phone as she concentrated on sewing each, individual pearl down onto the ballgown. Each pearl was accompanied by a little spray of luminescent green sequins around it, dusted faintly to give a sort of glow around each pearl. She was about a quarter of the way down through within forty-five minutes. Things weren’t looking that bad. 

But then Hawkmoth just had to be a bitch. 

“Akuma!” The screech of a citizen had Marinette snapping up from her work, wide blue eyes alight with panic. She glanced between her skylight and her ballgown, biting her lip. 

She groaned. “Fuck this, I hate Hawkmoth.” She grumbled, throwing down her needle, pearl, and string. “Plagg, claws out!” 

Damian, on the other hand... 

“Um, do you mind if I take this call for a sec...?” Damian coughed. 

Tom hummed, not having heard the scream of ‘Akuma!’ (Or maybe he just chose to ignore it, he was in his baking zone and nothing would interrupt him). When the big man didn’t reply, Damian just awkwardly shifted out of the backdoor, berating himself for not bringing his backpack with his Robin uniform. With no other choice, he held up the small, faintly spotted ring that he had stringed around his neck with a black chain. “Tikki,” The kwami giggled as her holder sighed in potential regret. “Spots on.” 

---

“Well look who showed up.” Kitty snorted as the spotted hero ran beside her. 

Lordbug didn’t reply but only dashed ahead. He was determined to bake that strawberry cream puff for Marinette- He was determined to finish the entire process by himself. And if he didn’t want his cream puff to burn to bits, he’d better hurry up. “Let’s just get this over with. I’m rushing.” He told her curtly. 

Kitty rolled her eyes. “Yeah, you’re always so busy.” Internally, she thanked him for not taking his own sweet time with the akuma. She needed to get to her dress. 

“Any idea what it is this time?” Queen Bee asked as she joined the other two, flying alongside them. “And where’s bird-boy?” 

Kitty shrugged and Lordbug only coughed. “Maybe he’s busy...?” Kitty said, an unsure tint to her voice. “Pity, kind of hoped to see him today.” 

Queen Bee patted her shoulder reassuringly. “I’m pretty sure he’ll show up to the show.” 

Lordbug’s ears perked up. The show? What show- Wait... The fashion show?

“Let’s just focus on the akuma first. Any plans, Mister Bug?” Kitty asked, and it didn't take a genius to sense how sarcastic she was being. “Since you show up for just about every akuma, you should have a plan, right?” 

He shot her a dirty look. Then, to be fair, he couldn’t blame her. But the only reason he never showed up was because he was busy showing up in his alter-ego! 

“LOLLIPOP!” Just ahead, a purple-green dressed infant stomped down the streets of Paris, causing destruction all around him. 

“Is... That a giant baby?” Queen Bee stuttered as she stopped short, flying in place. “I’m out, guys. I hate babies. They’re utterly horrible.” 

Lordbug squeezed his eyes shut. He wasn’t ready to deal with this shit- Heck, he’d fought so many Gotham villains, but none of them had the unpredictability of an infant! There wasn’t even any reasoning that could be done! 

“We’ll need more of us to bring him down.” Kitty pointed out. “No matter how clever we are, we need as many hands as we can get.” 

“Lucky Charm.” Lordbug murmured under his breath, blinking when a kettle dropped into his hands. 

“Of course! How smart. Let’s all have tea while a baby destroys the city.” The yellow-black dressed superhero said snakily, sarcasm dripping off like venom. “What a wonderful idea, Lord Buggy.” 

“Wait here.” He instructed. “Actually, don’t.” The baby was starting to approach them, if they stayed there they’d be smashed to pieces. “Try to keep him back, I have an idea.” 

Down below on the streets, one man wasn’t running, screaming in fear like everyone else. Bruce Wayne watched the spotted hero with curious eyes, a nagging feeling telling him it was someone familiar. 

---

“Have this.” Damian told Tikki distractedly, walking into Master Fu’s massage shop, handing her a sugar cube that he had bought from the grocery some time ago. They came in huge packs of 500 grams, and it was a great offer, so he had bought about ten packs. “What could possibly-” He caught sight of the large saxophone thing that Master Fu had in the middle of his massage room. “Could I... Recruit other holders?” 

Tikki nodded. “Why not.” She shrugged. 

“Chloe... Marinette.” He murmured. 

Tikki panicked. Not Marinette! “There’s also a miraculous that allows you to, um, multiply yourself. You can go as both Lordbug and Robin!” 

Damian grinned. “Good idea.” 

The kwami of creation gulped. Master Fu was going to kill them both. 

---

“How long do you think he’ll take?” Queen Bee asked, waving to the baby. “Here, you giant baby! C’mere!” 

“Are we assuming he’ll even come back at all?” Kitty Noir scoffed. “And come with me, baby! Here, August!” 

“No, look at me!” Queen Bee hissed. “I don’t know, I sure hope he comes back! Or else we’re going to die, and ‘Killed by giant emotional baby’ does not feel like a good way to die!” 

“Doesn’t look good on a grave, either!” Kitty groaned. “Here, baby! Do you want, um,” She looked around, picking up a large, donut sign that had been hit down by the akuma. “Giant donut?” 

The baby squinted at the black figure, but then concentrated at the giant, pink, circular thing she was holding. 

“LOLLIPOP?” The baby grinned, reaching for it, crashing onto the building that Kitty was on.

“Shit!” Kitty cursed, but she was trapped. The baby’s arms were locked on both sides of her, and the baby’s face was less than three meters away. 

“Kitty!” Queen Bee shrieked, her wings batting quickly to get to her friend, but someone else did before her. 

Not the baby, of course. Thankfully. 

A blur of green, yellow, and red flashed across the baby, who whined as both the black blur and giant donut vanished. 

“I leave you alone for two minutes, and you nearly get yourself killed.” Robin commented, the girl safe in his arms. He set her down at a half-demolished building, Queen Bee buzzing over (See what I did there? hehe) to check on her friend. 

“Alright, here’s the plan.” Lordbug, who swung by after kicking the baby in the eye, instructed. “Kitty, Bee, distract the baby. Robin and I will get the item where the akuma is.” 

Both Kitty and Queen Bee looked a little skeptical of Lordbug’s plan, but neither of them said anything as they ran off to distract baby August. 

“Here, baby!” Kitty whistled. “Come here, sweetheart!” 

“Here, baby!” Queen Bee mimicked. “C’mere and let me sting you!” Kitty shot Queen Bee a dirty look, resulting in the latter to merely shrug. “What?” 

“What, actually, is the plan?” Robin asked, a skeptical eyebrow raised. He had not realised how difficult it would be to deal with another one of him.

“We’ll lead August to the Eiffel Tower, which I can use my yoyo thing to surround, and we’ll make a makeshift play... box? Play something.” Lordbug said, ready-ing his yoyo. “Playpen.” 

“I don’t like you.” Robin stated. “You’re... Weird. Not like me.” 

Lord bug only smirked at his statement. “That’s because I’m your inner voice. The one you never use out loud.” 

“Huh.” This had some raised eyebrows from Robin, but he continued with the plan. He let out a sharp whistle, catching the baby’s attention. “YOU WANT A LOLLIPOP?” He yelled. “Come here, then, you big idiot!” 

Lordbug zipped off the to Eiffel Tower, which was just ahead now. The baby lumbered over towards the two males, a large grin on his face as he reached out for the bright, red... Insect? Doll? 

“Almost there!” Robin ran along the roofs, seeing Bee and Kitty following after the baby, not far behind. “Come on!” He let out another piercing whistle, which the baby clearly did not like. “Shit!” Annoyed, baby August slammed his hand where Robin was, only for Kitty to swerve in, breaking the roof of the building with her cataclysm, causing both of the superheroes- One superhero, one vigilante, actually- To fall into the building. 

“How’s it feel to have a maiden in shining armour save you?” Kitty grinned, a little breathless. 

“Honoured.” Robin replied, picking himself up. “Thanks for the save, but,” He yelped, jumping aside as August’s hand came through the hole in the building, feeling around for the two. “We should probably get going.” 

Kitty smashed a window with her baton (That destructive side coming out), and the two jumped out, careful to avoid to shards. 

“Oh hey, you’re still alive, bird-boy!” Queen Bee grinned, flying quickly as she gestured to the baby with a mirror, which reflected the sun into the baby’s eyes. 

“Bee, I think you’re agitating it.” Robin raised his eyes as the baby squealed angrily, stomping closer and closer to the tower. 

The flying hero didn’t seem to care. “As long as it gets into that tower, it’s fine. Lord Buggy, you ready?” 

A thumbs up from Lordbug was all there was before August stumbled into the area under the tower, Bee still flashing the light from time to time with the mirror. Kitty and Robin kept August busy when Bee wasn’t using the mirror, making sure the baby didn’t get out of the playpen that Lordbug was creating. 

“Get the bracelet!” Lordbug hollered as the baby begin to screech angrily. August thrust his fists angrily at the ‘playpen’ a.k.a his prison, and with a heavy swat, the tower begin going down. 

“Abort, abort! Get out of there, everyone!” Robin yelled, grabbing Kitty as he shot his grappling hook to... There was no near buildings to attach to. 

“Shoot it to me!” Queen Bee yelled, catching the hook with an oomph. “Hold on, both of you!” Robin scooped Kitty up in his arms, the both of them flying just out of August’s reach. “I hate babies!” 

The four superheroes gathered on the roof of a building. “Plan C, anyone?” Lordbug said tiredly. “That cream puff is probably already burnt.” 

“Try your lucky charm one more time.” Kitty suggested. “Maybe-” 

A large wrapper fell from the sky. “Ideas?” Lord bug said dryly. 

Kitty’s eyes twinkled in mischief. “Yep. We’re going to need...” She looked around. “Robin, do you think you could distract August for a while? We’re going to do some wrapping.” Her ring beeped. “Aaaand we’ll have to do this fast. Buggy, help Robin. We’ve got this.” 

The two boys ran off, grumbling while Bee flew Kitty to a lamppost. “This will do.” Kitty grinned. The two women wrapped the paper around the huge round, light of the lamppost, and Queen Bee adjusted the wrapper to look like a little bow at the end. 

“Perfect.” Queen Bee grinned wickedly. “I think I know what you’re doing.” 

Kitty shrugged. “I would cataclysm the bracelet, but I already used it, so...” 

“I get to sting the baby! Utterly wonderful.” Bee clapped her hands in delight. “Boys! We’re ready!” 

Robin swung off, narrowly getting missed. 

Kitty whistled sharply. “LOLLIPOP!” 

August’s head snapped up at the mention of his favourite word. “LOLLIPOP?” 

“Yes, LOLLIPOP!” Queen Bee grinned from her hiding place behind the lamppost. 

The baby stumbled towards them, and Kitty rolled out of the way as Queen Bee yelled, “VENOM!”, stabbing the stinger into August’s arm. “Bug, get the bracelet!” 

Kitty pressed the button that held the bracelet in place with her baton, extending it to get momentum she needed. Robin smashed the bracelet with his bo-staff, and Lordbug caught the butterfly with his yoyo. 

“Miraculous ladybug.” He mumbled, the swarm of magical ladybugs flying through the city to clear the destruction. 

“August!” Kitty sighed, picking up the confused baby on the floor. 

“Lollipop!” August squirmed, and the other three superheroes stepped back in disgust. 

August’s mother ran towards the four, a relieved expression in her eyes. “August!” 

“Here you go.” Kitty sighed tiredly. Her ring beeped for the fifth time- She was seconds from transforming. “Got to go. See you!” 

She jumped off, using her baton to propel her into the air. “I should get going, too.” Robin and Lordbug said simultaneously, glaring at each other once they finished their sentences. 

“Why do the two of you have the same necklace on?” Queen Bee asked, squinting at the mouse miraculous around the two’s necks. 

Cue to the awkward laughter. 

---

Surprisingly, the strawberry cream puffs were not burnt. A little overcooked, sure, but not completely burnt. 

Damian wrapped them up delicately in a box before tying it up in a pink ribbon. 

“Were you wearing that necklace just now?” Sabine asked as she helped him put the finishing touches on the cream puffs. “That silver coin.” 

Damian glanced at his neck, cursing. He forgot to take it off! 

“Yeah.” He said with a forced smile. “It’s a family heirloom.” 

---

/Part Eleven/

---

I’m back with an update! It was super longggg 

Also, side note: If you want to be added to the tag list, please comment on the latest chapter, or else I might miss it due to my forgetful ass :) I’m glad so many of you guys enjoy it~ Love y’all <3

(Tag list! @yin-390 @mysteriouslyswimmingfan-blo-blog@constancetruggle@the-navistar-carol @never-neverland @rayray384 @mystery-5-5 @black-streak@bluerosette23 @seraphichana @you-will-never-know-how-i-think@mikantsume @graduatedmelon @thebookwormfairy@crazylittlemunchkin@shizukiryuu @screamingtofillthevoid @serenacross200@zestyzealot@redscarlet95 @roseinbloom02 @beautym3 @resignedcatservant@sizzling-fairy-oil @tinybrie @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @lunar-wolf-warrior@northernbluetongue @dannyelric301 @daminett4life @loysydark @sparkle9510@erick-rose99-stuff @nataladriana9 @maya-custodios-dionach @myazael @sassakitty @clumsy-owl-4178 @emootaku-666)

[nancypullen]

So Far, So Good

I have no beef with November.  She showed up right on time and brought some lovely chilly weather with her.  She’s sprinkling her colorful magic all over the trees and generally being delightful.  Unfortunately she is also the gateway to holiday food and I’m like a junkie who’s been clean for a year but I’m ready to score a casserole.  I eat a very healthy balance for ten months and then *BOOM*  the Butterball turkeys show up at Kroger and all bets are off.  I wish I could buy willpower.  Sadly, I can’t even say that I fight temptation, oh no, I jump in with both feet and create the temptation.  On Saturday the mister and I were running errands...Lowe’s, Kroger, Tractor Supply for donkey corn to keep the deer in our yard during hunting season, the usual.  I told him that we needed to swing into the library parking lot because I had a couple of books on hold.  Were these volumes to entertain or expand my mind? No. They will only expand my thighs.

Come on.  You can’t tell me that that doesn’t look like fun!  Last week I baked cookies.  I hadn’t baked anything in forever because we don’t need it hanging around the house.  But I had an excuse.  I had swapped cat sitting duties with a neighbor (Willie’s other mom).  They were out of town for a few days in September and I dutifully went over and got the mail, fed her cats twice a day, scooped litter, let them out in the morning and back in for dinner, and gave them love.  In turn, when we went up to Maine she came over and scooped litter, fed our kitties wet food once a day, brought in the mail, etc.  She even took our garbage can to the curb and brought it back in.  They left town again just before we returned from our trip but had a relative house sitting.  They returned last week.   She’d given me a restaurant gift card as a thank you for watching their kitties, so I did the same but also used my gratitude as an excuse to make my favorite fall cookie - gingersnaps!  I figured I’d take a batch over with the gift card so they’d have dinner and dessert. Pulling that bottle of molasses out of the top cupboard felt like a homecoming. I uncovered the ol’ KitchenAid mixer and had one of the best afternoons I’d had in ages.  Playing music, baking cookies, and watching leaves flutter to the ground through the kitchen window - it just doesn’t get much better than that.  Of course I kept a baker’s dozen on a plate for us and they were gone in no time.  The floodgates are open. I did it.  I sabotaged myself.  And I loved every minute of it.  Please do not suggest that I could enjoy the same magical experience by whipping up a batch of bran muffins or tofu brownies.  That’s just crazy talk. Bustling around the kitchen and filling the house with delicious aromas - it’s such simple comfort.  My sister and I have had conversations recently about how, now more than ever, it’s important to keep sweetness and simplicity in our lives.  I actively seek out the whimsical side of life - enchanting art, silly poems, looking for clouds shaped like animals, all of it.  I’m drawn to fairy tales and their illustrations. I love a happy ending.  Remember when I mentioned that I’d picked up a watercolor by Maine artist Marvin Jacobs?  I didn’t choose a seascape or a harbor painting.  I picked this guy.

 It’s so important to keep sweetness in your life, otherwise the daily news will drag you under.  Be aware, be informed, work diligently for change, but leave room for lightness.   I’m saying all of this so that you’ll know why my heart cracked open and I cried when my sister sent a box full of joy straight to my mailbox.  Seems that she caught wind of a woman clearing out some treasures and she picked up a batch of Royal Albert Beatrix Potter figurines for a song!  She picked out three for me as a surprise and I can’t tell you how happy my heart is when I look at my kitchen window sill.

Jemima Puddleduck,  Mrs. Rabbit & Bunnies, and Old Mr. Brown.  Oh, my heart!  My sister told me that she knew I needed the Mrs. Bunny figure because she’s cuddling her two babies - like my two babies! 

Add to that the reminder that my Grandma Ethel called me Cuddlebunny, sewed bunny patches on my jeans during the summer that I chased her sheep and named all of her chickens, and I’m a puddle.  My sister and I love Beatrix Potter’s sweet (there’s that word again) stories and illustrations.  When the mister and I went to London I scoured the stalls on Portobello Road to find an old Beatrix Potter illustration to bring home and frame.  It hangs in the sweetest room in our house, the grandgirl’s room!

Can you imagine what it meant to me to open that box from my sister?  That was a box of love, my friends.  Now I need to add to my collection.  My sister is a fan of Hunca Munca, the busy little mouse.  She kept this figurine and said she identified with it.  I think she’s spot on.  I’ll have to look for more Hunca Munca for her.

I think we both agree that something about these little statues reminds us of time spent in Weiser.  Being at our grandparents little pink house was paradise.  My sister stayed at Grandma’s elbow, watching her sew and cook.  I stuck to her like glue outside learning about her chickens and flowers.  Her gardens were so lush.  Once when I was pretending to be outlaw Belle Starr, western rule-breaker and heartbreaker, I used one of her giant snowball bushes for my hideout.  It was so big and full that I could crawl under the lowest boughs and sit up inside.  It was beautiful and smelled good, just the sort of spot Belle would choose.  We were always so carefree in Weiser - my brother and I taught the sheep to play hide ‘n seek (really!).  If you’ve never seen a sheep hide behind a tree and peek out at you, you haven’t lived.  We named chickens after characters from Robin Hood.  My Grandpa Carl thought I was a hoot.  He spoiled me and I was his favorite.  Turns out that every one of his grandkids could say the same.  We were so safe and loved on their patch of Idaho.   I tried to put plenty of magic and whimsy into my kids’ childhoods.  They probably aren’t even aware that some of their silliest thoughts were planted there early.  I’ll bet when they see birds lined up on a wire and their first thought is “bird meeting” they don’t remember the dialogue I’d make up when we saw things like this -

Bird meeting!  #1 on the agenda is cat location...new orange tabby moved in on corner of Elm and Oak, so be aware.  Worm of the Month award goes to Maurice for the whopper he pulled out of a garden on May 5th. Way to go!  Congratulations to Stanley and Mary on hatching 4 eggs last Wednesday. That’s a lot of mouths to feed, so if anyone has extra bugs, slugs, or worms let them know. You get the idea.  They were little, Mom was just rambling at a red light, but I’ll bet that BIRD MEETING pops into their heads when they a feathered gathering.  Besides, when you anthropomorphize creatures I think kids are less likely to harm them and more likely to empathize. Whimsy with a purpose. Wow.  I apologize.  This blog post is all over the place and as usual I had no plan.  I just sit down at the laptop and empty my brain.  It’s therapy for me and a sleep aid for you. Win-win! On that note I will wrap this up and go dance around the kitchen with a broom.  I used panko when making last night’s eggplant dinner and based on the crunch I heard under my slippers this morning I didn’t sweep it all up.  Your assignment for today is to seek out sweetness.  When you find it, hold on to it.  Take it like a vitamin every day for a healthy soul.   Have a cookie too, can’t hurt might help. XOXO

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I'm A Search And Rescue Officer For The US Forest Service, I Have Some Stories To Tell

by searchandrescuewoods.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 (Final)

Hey guys! I'm back from my training op, and I have a lot of really interesting stories to share with you. I've got enough that I'm going to break them up into two parts, this being the first. I'd love to put them all in one entry, but I just haven't had a chance to write them all down yet. I didn't have anything too crazy happen while I was out there, but we did have one incident with a rookie that I found relevant. Since I'm sure you guys have been waiting for these, I'll just get right into the stories. I'll assign each batch of stories to the person who told them to me.

K.D: K. D is a vet who's been an SAR officer for about fifteen years. She specializes in high elevation mountain rescues, and is widely considered one of the best in her field. She was one of the more enthusiastic storytellers, and since we were together a fair amount during exercises, she ended up telling me about four that really stuck with me.

The first she told me in response to my asking about her most traumatic calls. She shook her head and told me that really bad calls happen more frequently on the mountain, since the potential for nasty accidents is higher. About five years ago, one of the parks she worked at had a string of disappearances. It was a bad year, she said, one of the worst on record as far as weather went. They were getting about a foot of new snow every couple of days, and there were a few avalanches that killed some climbers. They'd warned people about staying on the mapped areas, but of course there's always those who don't listen. In one particularly nasty case, an entire family got wiped out because the father decided he knew better than the officials, and he took them out into an area that wasn't safe. They were snowshoeing, and as best K.D could figure, they'd walked onto a shelf of snow that looked solid, but actually wasn't. It gave way, and this family went ass over teakettle almost three hundred feet down a slope. They landed on the rocks at the bottom, and the parents died instantly. One of the kids did as well, but the other two survived. One had a broken leg and fractured ribs, the other was almost unharmed save for some bruising and a sprained ankle. The uninjured child left his sibling behind and set out to find help. K.D said the kid didn't make it more than half a mile before a storm overtook him. Kid stopped to try and get warm, or maybe just to rest, and ended up freezing to death. They ended up finding the family with the help of some witnesses who saw them heading out into the wilderness, and she was the one to find the kid who'd frozen to death looking for help. She said it had started to snow, just enough to obscure long-distance vision, but not enough to make searching impossible. She saw a figure sitting in the snow up ahead, and she got to it as quickly as possible. She described, in detail, how as she got closer, she realized first that it was a child, second that they were deceased, and third that they had frozen in one of the most pitiful positions she's ever found a corpse in. The kid was sitting upright, with his knees tucked up against his chest. His arms were curled around them, and his head was tucked up in his coat. When she moved the coat to look at his face, she saw that he'd died crying. His face was twisted, and the tears were frozen on his cheeks. She said it was painfully obvious that the kid was terrified when he succumbed to hypothermia, and as a mother, it broke her heart. She told me, repeatedly, that she hopes the father is burning in hell as we speak.

The other traumatic story she told me that stood out, in my mind, was one that happened when she was a rookie. Her team got a report of an experienced climber who hadn't come home the previous day. His wife was convinced that something bad had happened, because he'd never failed to come home on time. They went out looking for him, and had to climb what sounded like some very technically challenging parts of the mountain. They got to a relatively flat area, and K.D started seeing blood in the snow. She followed the trail, and as she went, she started seeing little bits of tissue. She wasn't sure exactly what body part it had come from, but the farther she followed it, the more there was. She follows this blood-and-tissue trail to a sheltered area under a cliff face, and she finds the climber. She said there was so much blood, more than she'd ever seen before. He was lying face down, one arm stretched in front of him, as if he'd died crawling. She looks closer, and sees that he's been partially disemboweled, which is where the tissue she'd seen had come from. The guy has an ice pick tucked into a hip holster, and it's covered in blood. Of course, they'll never be sure exactly what happened, but she said as best she can figure, this is what went down: The guy had been attempting to climb up to the next area, and had been using his ice ax to ascend. He'd probably hit a loose patch, and had fallen. On the way down, or possibly when he landed, he'd gotten impaled by the ax, and it had disemboweled him. He'd drug himself along, tearing pieces of himself out as he went, and had died under the cliff face. She isn't terribly bothered by gore, but I guess a few of the guys who came to help her remove the body threw up when they turned him over and a good portion of his intestines spilled out.

I mentioned to her that I was interested in hearing about any experiences she had with people completely disappearing. Her eyes light up, and she leans in close to me. 'Wanna hear a real doozy?' She asks. She tells me about how, when she first started, there was a case that got a lot of attention in the media. A family had been out berry picking in an area of the forest very close to the entrance of the park. They had two little boys, both under the age of five, and at some point during the day, one of them vanishes. There's an absolutely massive search, and they find absolutely nothing. It's another of those cases where it's like the kid was never there in the first place. The dogs just sit down and don't pick up on anything, no trace of the kid is found. The search goes on for about two months, but is eventually called off. Fast forward to six months later. The family comes back to place flowers at a memorial that's been set up there for the kid. They bring their other son. While they're placing the flowers, they lose sight of the kid for about three seconds, and in that span of time he vanishes into thin air. Now obviously, the parents are beyond devastated. It's awful enough to lose one child, but to lose two is beyond imagining. The search is huge, one of the largest in state history. There are about three hundred volunteers combing every inch of this park, looking for the kid. But again, there's no trace of him. The search goes on for about a week, with people looking miles from the part of the park he vanished from. And then, almost two weeks later, a volunteer almost fifteen miles from the designated search area radios in that he's found the kid. They assumed that the kid was dead, but the volunteer says he's not only alive, he's in good shape. K.D and her team go out to recover the kid, and when they get there, she can't believe that this is the kid that's been missing. His clothes are clean, there's no dirt on him anywhere, and he doesn't appear traumatized. The volunteer says he found the kid sitting on a log, playing with a little twig bundle that's bound together with some old rope. K.D asks him where he's been, who he was with for those two weeks, and the kid tells her that he's been with 'the fuzzy man'. Now K.D firmly believes in Bigfoot, so she gets all excited and asks what he means by fuzzy. Was he hairy? But the kid says no, he wasn't hairy. He was a 'fuzzy man', and he describes a man that's blurry, 'like when you close your eyes but not all the way closed.' He says the man came out of the trees and took the kid with him deep into the woods. The kid says he slept in a hollow tree, and the fuzzy man gave him berries to eat. K.D asks if the man was mean, if he scared the kid, and the kid says 'no, he wasn't scary. but i didn't like how he didn't have eyes.' K.D says they get the kid back to headquarters, and a cop takes him into town to talk to him more about what happened. She's friends with the cop that talked to him, and she said the kid described being kept in this tree by the fuzzy man, and given berries whenever he was hungry. He was allowed to wander around a very specific clearing, but when he tried to go further, the fuzzy man would 'get mad and yell real loud even though he didn't have a mouth'. When the kid got scared at night, the fuzzy man 'made it go brighter' and gave him the twig bundle. He said the fuzzy man was going to keep him, but he had to let him go because the kid wasn't 'the right kind.' He either can't or won't elaborate more on that. The cops are just sort of left scratching their heads, and the search for his brother is renewed with no results. The kid has no idea where his brother might be, and they never find him.

The last story that K.D told me was of something that happened to her when she got separated from her training group when she was a rookie. They were learning the basics of high elevation belaying on a well-mapped side of the mountain, and she had to use the bathroom. She went off about fifty yards from the group during a meal break, and did her business. I'll tell the rest exactly as she told it to me' 'So I go to take a piss, and once I'm done, I start going back to the group. But I've only gotten about five feet when I realize that I have no idea where I am. And this wasn't a 'oh, I got turned around' lost. I mean I had literally no fucking clue where I was. If you'd asked me, I don't even think I'd have been able to tell you what state we were in. It was sort of how I imagine people with amnesia feel, you know? You're completely lost, and you have no idea what to do. So I stood there for a while, just trying to figure out where the fuck I was and what I was supposed to do. But the longer I stand there, the more confused and turned around I get, so I started walking. As I recall, I just picked a random direction and went for it. And as I'm walking, it's just getting worse and worse to the point where I have no concept of why I'm on the mountain in the first place. I'm just trudging through the snow, and then I start hearing this voice. It's kind of inside my head, almost. Like if a frog could talk, all low and croaky. And it's telling me over and over 'it's okay, it's okay, you just need to find something to eat. Find something to eat and you'll be okay, just keep walking and find something to eat. Eat. Eat.' So I start looking around for anything that I can eat, and I swear to god I've never felt that hungry in my whole life. It was bottomless, and I think I'd have eaten just about anything you put in front of me right then. I had no concept of time, so I had no idea how long I'd been out when I hear an actual voice coming toward me. I go toward it and see one of the other SARs, and he looks fucking terrified. He's running toward me, asking if I'm okay and what the hell I'm doing out here. And the scary thing was, as he's running toward me, I kind of see myself reaching into my belt for my hunting knife. I'm not even really thinking about what I'm doing, but what I am thinking is that I have to eat. If I don't eat, I'll never be okay again, so I just have to eat. He sees me doing that and he backs off right away. He yells at me to put my knife away, that he's not gonna hurt me, and that kind of snaps me back. All of a sudden, I know exactly where I am, and I put the knife away. I run to him and ask him how long I've been gone, thinking he'll tell me I've been gone for half an hour or so. But he tells me I've been gone for two fucking days. I've gone over two peaks and ended up almost on the other side of the mountain, and if I'd kept going, I would have ended up wandering into about three hundred miles of wilderness. They'd never have found me. He can't believe I'm not dead, and of course I don't know what the fuck to think. To me, no time has passed at all. I don't say anything, I just go back with him to a rendezvous point and I'm taken back to HQ to be airlifted to the hospital. When I get there, they do all kinds of tests, and try to figure out what happened. As best they can guess, I had some kind of weird fugue state, which is kind of like amnesia, or a weird seizure that knocked my brain out of whack. But the truth is that we really don't know. It's never happened again, but I'll tell you, ever since then I never go out there alone. People rag on me for making them come with me when I have to leave the group, but I just tell 'em that listening to me piss in the snow is better than losing me for two fucking days on a freezing mountain.'

EW: The next person I talked to was E.W, a former trainer who now works as an EMT. He still comes to ops like this to help out, but doesn't work full-time for us anymore. He specialized in finding lost kids, he just seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to knowing where they'd gone. He's a legend among the more senior vets, but he gets embarrassed if you compliment him on his work. He sat down with me at dinner one evening, and we ended up swapping stories. Most of them were just casual, but when we got on the subject of our weirder calls, I mentioned that I'd had a buddy who'd gone up a set of stairs. He got kind of quiet and asked me if I'd heard of a little boy who'd disappeared from his park a few years back. I hadn't, so he told me this story.

They were out looking for this eleven-year-old boy, Joey, who'd gone missing near a river. Of course, the first thought was that he'd fallen in and drowned, but when they brought dogs out, they led SAR officers away from the river and up into a very densely forested area. When we do searches for people, we search in a grid pattern, and we search every 'box' of the grid incredibly thoroughly. What E.W's team noticed right away was that a very strange pattern was emerging. Dogs in alternating boxes were picking up Joey's scent, but losing it when they overlapped with another box. If you think of a checkerboard, Joey's scent was being picked up in random black squares, but never in red. This, of course, didn't make any sense, because how could the kid bounce from area to area without leaving a scent in each place he passed? E.W and his partner pass into a new box of the grid, and E.W notices a set of stairs about fifty yards away. He tells his partner that they need to go check near it, but his partner flat-out refuses. He tells E.W that he's made it a point never to go near any stairs he sees, and that while it may be routine, he's not to pretend that it's normal. He tells E.W that he'll wait in sight while E.W checks. E.W says he was irritated, but he felt for the guy, and didn't push him on the subject. 'I walked over to the stairs. They were small, kind of like stairs into a basement. I don't really feel strongly one way or the other about them, the stairs I mean, so I wasn't scared or anything. I guess I'm like everyone else, and I just prefer not to think about them too much. 'Anyway, I went over and I could see that there was something lying on the bottom step, sort of curled up. My hear sinks, because of course you always hope for the best. And we were confident that we'd find this kid alive, because he'd only been missing for a few hours. But I knew right away that it was him, and that he was dead. He was curled up in a little ball on the step, holding his stomach. It looked like he'd been in horrible pain when he died, but I didn't see any blood, except some on his lips and chin. I radioed in that I'd found him, and we got his body back to command. That poor family, they were devastated. The parents couldn't understand how he'd be dead, 'cause he'd only been gone for such a short amount of time. And on top of that we didn't have any obvious cause of death, which just made it worse. I figured he'd probably eaten something poisonous, since he was holding his stomach when I found him, but I didn't want to guess. It's hard enough to hear that your kid is dead, let alone have some stupid SAR guy guessing about what happened. They took him away, and I went home and tried not to think about it. I hate finding dead kids, man. I loved this job but it's one of the reasons I left. I've got two daughters, and the thought of losing them that way just...' He choked up a little here. I'm not great with emotional stuff like that, and it's always sort of awkward to see a grown man cry, so I didn't really know what to do. He pulled himself together eventually, though, and he kept going. 'We don't always hear back from the coroners about cause of death. It's not really our job to know, I guess, and sometimes if they think it's foul play they won't tell us because of legal bullshit. But I've got a friend who works for the sheriff's department, and he'll usually pass along any interesting info if I ask. In this case, though, I actually got a call from him about a week later. He asks if I remember the kid, and of course I do, and he says some seriously weird shit is going on. He tells me, 'E.W, man, you're gonna think I'm crazy, but the coroner has no idea what happened to this kid. He's never seen anything like it.' My friend goes on to tell me that when the coroner opened the kid up, he couldn't even believe what he was seeing. The kid's organs were like swiss cheese. Quarter-sized holes were punched clean through just about every single organ this kid had, aside from his heart and lungs. But his colon, his stomach, his kidneys and even one of his testicles, were full of these clean holes. My friend said the coroner described it as if someone had taken a hole-punch and punched holes out of everything, they were so neat. But the kid didn't have a scratch on him, no entry or exit wounds. The closest anyone there had ever seen like it was a guy who'd filled himself full of buckshot a year or so back while cleaning his rifle. No one had a clue what could possibly have caused it. My friend asked me if I'd ever heard of anything like it, or if we'd had similar cases in the past. But I'd never even heard of something like that, and I told him I wasn't going to be of any help to him. As far as I know, the coroner determined the cause of death as something like 'massive internal bleeding', but no one knows what really happened. I've never been able to forget that kid. I have nightmares about it sometimes. I don't let my kids go into the woods alone, and when we go together I never let them out of my sight. I used to love it out here. But that case, and a couple others, just sort of ruined it for me.' Dinner was over, so we started to clean up and go back to our cabins. Before we went our separate ways, he put his hand on my shoulder and looked at me really close. He tells me that there's bad things out here. Things that don't care if we have families or lives, or that we can think and feel. He tells me to be careful, and he walks away. I didn't a chance to talk with him again, but that story stuck with me.

PB: By pure coincidence, I got to talk to another vet, P.B who's been in the SAR field for years. We were partnered on a grid sweep during a training exercise, and we were chatting casually about how we liked the job, what kinds of things we'd seen, and the like. At one point, we passed an old set of stairs, though these were probably from an old fire lookout, given the area that we were in. I sort of casually mentioned that I was curious about the stairs, and that I wished I knew more about them. He got kind of quiet and looked like he wanted to tell me something, but wasn't sure if he should. Finally, he told me to turn my radio off. Obviously this is something we are never, ever supposed to do, but I did it, and he did the same.

About seven years ago, he tells me, he was out on a call with a rookie. They were in an area of the park that's had a lot of strange reports and events. Disappearances, stories about lights in the forest, odd noises, things like that. The rookie was totally spooked, kept going on and on about 'things out in the woods'. According to P.B: 'The guy wouldn't stop talking about 'the Goatman'. Just on and on, 'Goatman' this and 'Goatman' that. Finally, I told him that there was plenty else to be afraid of out here that was very real, and that he'd better get over this thing with the Goatman. The rookie wanted to know what kinds of things I was talking about, and I just told him to shut up and walk. We crested a little ridge and there was a staircase about ten yards ahead. The rookie stops dead in his tracks and just stands there looking at them. I tell him, 'See? That's something you should be afraid of.' The rookie asks me what the hell these are doing out here, and for some reason, I just open up and tell him the truth. Or what I've been told is the truth. I could have gotten in a lot of trouble for doing what I did, and I could get in a lot of trouble for repeating it to you. But you're a nice kid, and I want you to stop looking into this. Quit while you're ahead. So I'll tell you what I know, under the condition that you never breathe a word of this to the supes.' I told him I wouldn't say a word, and he double-checks that our radios are off. 'When I first started out, we were a little less tight-lipped about them, and other things that happen out here. We warned people before they were even hired that there was weird shit going on. I guess the Forest Service was tired of having such a massive turnover rate, and they wanted people to know what they were getting into. So they started having people sign these agreements that they wouldn't go to the media about what they were going to see. The FS didn't want to scare people away, so the last thing they needed were spooked rookies running off to the media with stories of ghosts and haunted stairs. But eventually, they found that the agreements weren't necessary. People not only didn't want to talk about what they saw, they wouldn't. A few times, media tried to talk to people when kids or hikers would disappear, and no one would say a word. I can't really explain it. I guess we just... don't really want to admit anything is wrong. This is our job, to be out in the woods every single day. We don't need to be spooked, and the best way to avoid that is to pretend like everything's okay. So I'll tell you everything I can think of, and after that, I'm done talking about it for good. And I expect you not to bring it up around me, ever. 'The stairs have been out here as long as the parks have existed. We have records going back decades describing them. Sometimes people go up them, and nothing happens. Other times... Look, I really don't like talking about this, but sometimes, really bad shit happens. I saw one guy get his hand sliced clean off when he got to the top step. He reached out to touch a tree branch, and it happened so fast. One second his hand was there, and the next it was gone. Completely clean wound. We didn't find his hand, and the guy almost died. Another time, a woman touched one of the stairs, and a blood vessel in her brain exploded. Literally exploded, like a water balloon. She sort of stumbled down and came over to me, and all she got out was 'I think something is wrong with me.' She dropped like a sack of flour, dead before she hit the ground. I'll never forget the way the blood leaked into the inside of her eye. Before she died, I watched it turn red. I watched it happen and there wasn't a single thing I could do to help. 'We warn people not to go anywhere near them but there's always at least one idiot who does. And even if nothing happens to them, something bad always happens. Kids go missing as we're on their trail. Someone dies the next day, cut in half in a completely safe part of the park. I don't know why, but something bad always happens. I don't know exactly why they're out here, but it doesn't matter. They're here, and if we were smart, we'd tell our new officers exactly what they're capable of.' We were both quiet for a little while. I was afraid to talk because I wasn't sure if he was done. He looked like he wanted to say something else. Finally he spoke up again. 'Have you ever noticed how you can't find the same ones twice?' I nodded, expecting him to continue. But he just stayed quiet, walking alongside me, and eventually he started a story about the biggest deer he'd ever seen in the park. I didn't bring up the subject again, and I didn't press him for any more stories. He dropped out of the op the next day. Apparently he left before the sun came up; he said he was sick. None of us have heard from him since he left.

I'm going to stop here for the time being. I'll try and post the next part in the coming days, but what with it being the end of summer, things are pretty busy here. Thanks for the continued interest, guys, you've really awakened this curiosity in me that I didn't know I had!