#and I also get the double meaning. like Ruth is an outsider to everyone and gets no attention

[sodalite-fulll]

Didn’t expect “Nerdy Prudes Must Die” to have a gut-wrenching song about being middle aged in a loveless marriage and craving attention, all sung by a teenager who not even telemarketers want to talk to, but then again I didn’t expect Chorn

[florafey]

The Tipping Point - Snippet 3

This is just 4,336 words of me extrapolating on my characters and their personalities and a little more of the noble, upper-class culture they live in. We get full names, as well. 

For clarity, this scene is set five years before the majority of the story takes place, so the main characters are quite a bit younger in this scene than they “actually” are. In this scene they are teenagers; they are anywhere from 19 to 25 in the “present time”. Let me know what you think! Enjoy!

Five Years Ago : 206 Annum Effugium (A.E)

The sun was shining, therefore the children were excited. 

“Don’t run down the stairs, Wynona. You will trip over your dress and find out how hard that marble is.” Duchess Gallio prided herself on being the epitome of a perfect, well-bred lady of status, and therefore did not raise her voice at her young daughter. Winnie, barely six, did not yet care about being a lady and did not heed her mother. She knew a stronger scolding wouldn’t come, anyways. 

Thea, arm in arm with Iona, was just as happy as Winnie about the weather, though Thea knew better than to run down the palace staircase without first lifting the hem of her dress. She watched with amusement as Winnie’s skirts caught around her ankles and made the girl stumble and slow down. 

It was mid-April and the cold front had just broken. It had been a hard winter. Nearly seven months of snow, frost, blistering wind, and chilly drafts that occasionally seeped through even the palace walls. Thea hated the cold and everything that came with it. She preferred the spring dresses with their loose skirts that didn’t weigh nearly as much as she herself did, she preferred the street festivals she was allowed to attend and even those she wasn’t, and she much preferred day-long picnics spent outside in the sun. While Duke Kaiso spun the most magnificent tales in front of the fire, Thea would still take grass stained knees and bouts of wrestling that made her mother shriek. 

Winnie amazedly reached the bottom of the long staircase without knocking her teeth out. When she spotted Thea, she grinned and didn’t slow her run into the other girl’s arms. Iona cooed at Winnie as Thea propped her on her hip and made her way out into the palace’s sprawling garden. The sun was out and so were the birds, the butterflies, the bugs, and the troublemakers. 

“Now, Winnie, if you eat lemon cakes today, take care not to get any on that gorgeous dress of yours,” Thea said. She knew Winnie would attack the plate of lemon cakes the moment she saw them without any regard for her words, but she said it nonetheless. 

“Momma says I won’t be allowed to eat lemon cakes today.” Winnie sounded distressed. Her little hands were tangled in Thea’s curls. Thea turned a sympathetic look on Winnie and said, “Well, then you’ll just have to spend the whole afternoon with me. How awful.”

Winnie squealed and clapped her hands, simultaneously tugging Thea’s hair. Iona laughed and steered them over to where the rest of the noble families were sitting. 

It was a large picnic. Nearly every member of the seven noble families were there. The first picnic of the year was always the biggest, symbolizing unity between the houses and a celebration of the breaking of winter. 

Thea’s parents, Duke and Duchess Fontaine were seated next to their closest friends and Iona’s parents, Duke and Duchess Tithonius. Iona’s older brother, Cicero, was nowhere to be seen. Judging from how the Duke Kaiso’s only son, Adonias, was also missing, Thea assumed the two were off somewhere beating teeth out of each other. They knew by now to take their arguments far from everyone else. The Tithonius’ cousins, the Anatolious family, sat under a nearby tree with their only daughter, Valerie. Valerie was speaking to Winnie’s older brother, Matthias Gallio, and was giving him a grin almost as sharp as her eyes. Twins Ruth and Wren Dexion were engaged in a playful game with each other and seemed to be trying to convince a young teenage boy to join them. Freiderich Augustus Quintilla was fourteen but looked twelve. He was only a head or two taller than Ruth, who was currently wrapped around his leg, cackling. Freiderich was clutching a book and looked for all the world like he might pass out. His pale skin stood out against his red-blond curls that only added to his youthfulness. 

From besides Thea, Iona gave a shuttered sigh. 

“Where is my brother?” She grumbled. “Father is going to tan him for not being here.”

Thea set down a squirming Winnie, who ran off to join Ruth and Wren in attacking Freiderich. “I’m sure Cicero had every intention of coming, Iona. Adonias probably caught him in the hall and started running that mouth of his.”

Iona couldn’t stop the smile that flickered on her mouth. “For having grown up together, you would think they would have learned how to get along,” she mused, taking a seat on the warm grass. Thea sat and stretched her legs out. 

“I don’t pretend to understand them. Let’s talk about something else.”

“Yes, please. I can’t stand the two of them. Always at each other’s throats. When was the last time you were in town?”

“Not since I went with you last week. Why?”

“Oh, Madame Ahr-Yusa put out the most gorgeous display of dresses a few days ago in time for the new season. They’re to die for, you’re going to melt when you see them!”

The two girls fell into an easy stream of conversation over the next hour concerning the latest fashions arriving in the capitol with the spring season. After Madame Ahr-Yusa’s gowns were discussed it was the hats from Madame Ingrid and then the daggers from Master Quell’s shop, famous for their ability to never dull. Being trained to fight was a lesson the noble families of the Cerulean Isles did not fail to teach their children, for the palace could often be the most dangerous place to live. But while the young boys learned to fight with broadswords and fists, the young ladies were taught to take lives whilst in corsets and heeled shoes. 

Thea, despite her mother’s wishes, had ensured her education was as well-rounded as she could. Upon hearing her wishes to learn how to swordfight, Cicero had handed Thea his broadsword, which she had quickly found to be much too heavy. So she had commissioned a sword to be made to fit her. It was thinner, lighter, and laid in her hand perfectly. It had taken her almost a full month to get even the most basic movements mastered whilst in a gown, but she was making steady progress. She subsequently felt as though she had provided Cicero with four weeks’ entertainment as he watched her struggle with the balance between her dress and sword. If she hadn’t thought his laughter had cracked a few of his ribs, she probably would have attempted to do it herself. 

The girls ate with Valerie and discussed the upcoming festival, the first of the season. Valerie often took advantage of festivals to buy as many unique knives as she could, but Thea found herself drawn more to the entertainment and the music. Thea had seen Valerie’s collection of sharp rings, and was surprised to know that Matthias Gallio was still trying to court her. Val was currently wearing one of her weapons, a thin, strong piece of metal that glinted at her knuckle and exposed a razor-sharp blade when her finger curled  in. 

But for all her danger, Valerie Clementine Anatolious knew how to be a perfect lady. She could dance for hours in a tightly-laced corset and never lose her breath. She could balance a stack of books on her head while walking down the stairs. She could make her voice heard without raising it, and she could make Thea double over in laughter with the slightest quip. Thea liked her very much. 

In the middle of the girls’ conversation about the festival in two weeks, Friederich Quintilla managed to finally slip away from Winnie and the Dexion twins and loped over in time to hear a few words.

“The Vernal Festival? The weather should be good, it seems. Unless we get an unexpected cold front in which case we may have some rain, but…” He was suddenly aware of all three girls staring at him and trailed off self-consciously, “...but it’s highly unlikely…” he swept his red-blond curls off his forehead but they needed a trim and fell back into his eyes. Friederich was three years younger than Thea and Iona, and four years younger than Valerie. Thea didn’t know him all that well; he took all his lessons with the prince and His Majesty’s private tutor. Duchess Quintilla, his mother, was a woman to rival Duchess Gallio. Prim, proper, fragile. Spoiled, overprotective, overbearing. Thea was often distracted whenever Duchess Quintilla was in the same room as her, the diamonds the Duchess wore were cut so sharply that they sparkled even at night. 

To ease Friederich’s embarrassment, Thea inquired, “What book are you reading, Friederich? Let me see.” 

The boy handed it over and sat in the grass next to her. Thea was delighted to see it was written by a man named Isaac Von Hue. A few of his novels sat in her own room. 

“You read Von Hue as well?” She asked. “I only just finished The Paper Lantern. How did you come across him?”

“The prince, actually.” Where anyone else Friederich’s age might have boasted this, Friederich almost lowered his voice to draw less attention to the fact that he was so close with the young heir. “His Grace learned to read using books by Von Hue and Ryner and Pav...Pavlish…”

“Pavilishchev,” Thea supplied. 

“Yes, thank you. Anyways, he suggested this one to me quite a while ago and I’m embarrassed to say that I never read it sooner only because it didn’t seem very intriguing.”

Thea had to laugh. “Just because he is the prince doesn’t mean you have to agree with his literary tastes.”

“Still, I was hesitant. I don’t fancy adventure novels or daring rescues.”

“Well, has Von Hue changed your mind? You’re nearly done with this book so it seems he might have.”

Friederich thought about it, then shrugged. “Perhaps. I’m not quite sure. What book of his did you say you had just finished? Maybe I’ll try that one next.” “The Paper Lantern,” Thea smiled. “It’s my favorite of his so far. There’s a lot to be said for the battling of wills between the ruling patriarchy and the strong minds of the women underneath it. When you’ve read it, I would love to discuss it with you.”

Val, only hearing Thea’s last sentence, leaned over Thea’s lap and said, “Don’t take her up on that, she’ll talk a whole day and night away.”

Thea made an indignant noise and shoved Val away from her. Val tugged on Thea’s hair with a sharp smile and went back to her conversation with Iona. 

“I’m pleasantly surprised to find you read as much as I do,” Friederich said. “I’ll come to you when-”

They were interrupted a second time when two figures strode leisurely into the garden. One had short, fair hair, and a set of bright green eyes. He was tall and broad chested and currently spinning a wooden sparring staff in his left hand. A very familiar smirk was twisting his mouth into something arrogant and borderline rude. Adonias Montague Kaiso. Twenty years old; three years older than Thea and the eldest of all the noble children. Thea’s interactions with Adonias were limited to pleasant greetings in passing or during lessons, and the few times he picked arguments with her to either see how sharp her claws were or for an excuse to take Cicero to the ground again. Adonias had soon learned, however, that picking fights with Thea weren’t worth it; she always knew what he was doing and very rarely rose to the bait. 

The young man behind Adonias was only two years his junior. He contrasted Adonias astoundingly, in both looks and behavior. This man’s hair was a red-brown color and hung in loose waves to his shoulders. Half of it was tied back with a strap of leather. His eyes were amber and his brows dark, his skin dark enough to show that at least one of his parents was not native to the Isles. He was slightly taller than Adonias and just as broad, but strode into the garden with his hands slipped casually inside his pockets. Cicero Caspian Tithonius. The second eldest of all the noble children and the instigator of half of all the fights between him and the eldest. 

Iona seemed relieved to see her brother finally show up. Thea was relieved to see that neither man seemed to have been fighting the other as of late. It was a rare occasion that Cicero and Adonias had a civil conversation, but it did occasionally happen. Perhaps it was due to the formal clothing they currently wore. 

Adonias propped his sparring staff onto his shoulder to bow to his mother and the Duchess Quintilla. He accepted the food they offered and Thea heard him smoothly apologize for his tardiness. Adonias was almost as adept as Valerie in walking the line between being an outright aggressor and a noble. 

Thea heard Cicero acknowledge his father with a perfunctory, “Sir,” before moving to kiss his mother’s cheek and sit besides her. Duchess Tithonius was a stunning woman with bright eyes and dark skin. She had left Tasnia when she had met and married the Duke, and bore his children only months after their marriage. She was very nearly a second mother to Thea. Her accent was much thicker than either Cicero’s or Iona’s and she often sang in her native language, her voice melodic and winding and something Thea knew to be unique to her country’s people. 

Winnie chose this time to get bored with the Dexion twins. “Thea! Come find rocks with me!” Her once-white gown was already grass stained around the hem. Thea didn’t know what Duchess Gallio had expected. 

Thea held up Friederich’s book to show Winnie she was currently occupied. Winnie pouted and called, “But you promised!”

Thea had not, but she returned Friederich his book and went to join Winnie in the warm grass. 

“Where is your puppy, Thea? Can she come play?” Winnie picked up a handful of rocks, deemed them unworthy, and threw them down again. 

“Clover? She’s probably sleeping on my bed right now. There’s a lovely patch of sun that lands right on my pillow around noon.”

Winnie giggled. “She’s sleeping? But it’s not morning anymore.”

“Oh, she’s a lazy thing. Maybe after the picnic you can come with me to wake her up.” 

Thea allowed Winnie to hand her the rocks she wanted to keep, knowing the girl would forget all about them the moment her mother called her over to eat. But it was Matthias who fetched his sister, not the Duchess. 

“Come along, Winnie. Don’t you want lunch?” Matthias held his hand out towards his sister and she grabbed his fingers. Matthias Gallio was only a few months older than Thea and she was under the impression that he was the most proper young noble out of all of them. He was well trained how to fight but not to the indecent extent that Cicero or Adonias had been. He was just as likely to be dancing or reading or making sure his unruly little sister didn’t knock over anything valuable. Which, in the palace, was nearly everything you could touch. 

Thea returned to Iona and Valerie to find they had saved her a few bites of lunch. 

“I was thinking we could walk down to the river,” Iona said, looking that direction and shielding her eyes from the sun. “It isn’t too warm for a walk.”

Thea hummed in agreement around a bite of lemon cake. She understood why Winnie liked them so much. “I’ll go with you. Will you come, Valerie?”

“Oh, perhaps.” Val adjusted her silver skirts. “I doubt my mother would be pleased if I decided to steal Adonias’ sparring staff and go a few rounds with him.”

“I’d give anything to see that,” Thea said honestly. “My coin would be on you, too. Speaking of Adonias, we should ask the boys to come.”

“Let’s not,” Iona protested. “They’ll simply bicker the whole time.” “They aren’t that bad. And besides, it’ll be more fun with them.”

“We aren’t fun enough for you, Thea?” Valerie feigned hurt. 

Thea rolled her eyes and stood up, brushing invisible crumbs from her bodice. “I won’t answer that.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to incriminate myself.” She left the girls and made her way across the lawn to where Cicero was engaged in light conversation with his mother. The Countess’ eyes lit up when she saw Thea. 

“Theadora Dior, precious girl, come to me!” The Countess opened her arms and Thea couldn’t help but smile and run to her. The Countess was sitting on a low stone bench so Thea knelt in the grass and embraced the Countess. She breathed in the woman’s scent of sunshine and perfume, and allowed the Countess to kiss her hair. 

The Countess Tithonius was the only woman apart from Thea’s own mother that sometimes referred to Thea using her middle name as well. But Countess Fontaine only used it when Thea was in trouble; Countess Tithonius called her with melody and happiness. 

“Good afternoon, my lady. I apologize for not greeting you sooner.”

The Countess tsked. “None of that, girl. I need no special respect.”

Thea made a face. “Of course you do.”

From besides them, Cicero laughed softly. “You flatter each other.” He shook his head, smiling. 

Thea ignored him for the time being. The Countess did as well. She ran a bronze hand through Thea’s hair and said, “What are you three troublemakers scheming up over there? I can tell you have something in mind. This warm weather is enough to bring the most out of anyone.”

“Troublemakers?” Thea smiled. She folded her feet more comfortably under her and rested her arms on the Duchess’ knees. 

“My lady, I cause no trouble. You mistake me for your son.”

Cicero had been watching Thea and his mother’s interaction with half-lidded interest until Thea mentioned him. She could practically feel him staring at her.

“Careful,” he warned mildly.

The Duchess tsked again, waving a hand. “As I say. Troublemaker Fontaine, that is your name.”

Laughter bubbled out of Thea and soon the Countess was laughing with her. Her laughter, Thea thought, was one of the most beautiful sounds she had ever heard. 

“We are only going to walk to the river. It won’t take us long. We should be back within the hour.”

“Don’t fall in.”

“No, Countess.” The two were still smiling. 

“You came all the way over here to bid me farewell before leaving for only an hour?” The Countess knew Thea had not.

“I was going to ask your son if he would like to come with us, but I’m sure he would rather stay here with you.”

“I would,” was Cicero’s instant reply. He was spinning a needle-blade between his fingers, and shot Thea a honed smile when she looked at him. 

The Duchess flicked her hair back behind her shoulders and regarded her son with a mix of disdain and disappointment. 

“Son from my womb? Sometimes I wonder. Run along. I know it pains you to sit still for too long.”

Cicero smiled genuinely and the needle-blade vanished with a twitch of his fingers. 

“As you wish, my lady.” He stood, kissed his mother on the head, and held out his hand to help Thea stand. Thea curtseyed to the Countess, who pressed a hand to her heart, and turned away with Cicero.

“It’s a wonder I can make myself leave your mother’s presence,” Thea mused quietly. “She’s a magical woman.”

Cicero made a noise of agreement. He placed her hand on his arm and she took it as a lady would whilst walking with a gentleman. Val and Iona had convinced Adonias to come along, but Matthias would stay with his younger sister and the young twins. Thea and Cicero were a few paces ahead of the other three but Adonias’ voice still rang out clearly from behind them.

“Is that why you two don’t get along?” Thea asked. “He’s loud and you’re so broody.”

“I don’t brood, Thea. And no. Adonias is only loud because he’s deaf in one ear.”

“Firstly, you do brood. And second, how do you know that? Which ear?”

Cicero raised a brow at her.

“See, that’s a brood,” Thea said. “I win. One point for Theadora.”

“You’re a child. And I know Adonias is deaf because he can’t hear shit if you talk on his left side. I asked him about it a few months ago and he seemed surprised I had figured it out. Nobody else has, apparently.”

Thea took in this information with interest. Then she shrugged and turned to more important matters.

“Are you planning on going to the Vernal festival in a few weeks?”

“I’ll decide that the morning of.”

“Ugh, how boring. How will you know what to wear?”

Cicero knew a joke when he heard one but the look of absolute incredulity that he gave Thea was enough to send Thea into a gale of laughter. 

“You’re in a good mood.” He observed dryly. The river was almost in sight; they were picking their way over small stones that lead to the bank. 

“How could I not be, it’s spring. Sometimes I think each winter becomes harder and harder to bear. I could just die from boredom and the awful cold.”

“Find someone to keep you warm.” Cicero’s smile was razor-sharp and simmered with bait. Thea felt her face heat, but she stuck her tongue out and said, “Don’t be lewd.”

“Then don’t ask for it.”

“I did not.” “Like a child asking to be fed.” Thea’s mouth dropped. “I- What does that mean?”

But they had reached the river and Cicero only laughed. Val and Iona had caught up with them, Adonias still spinning his sparring staff. The girls found a part of the river shallow enough to wade in if they held their dresses up but it was only a matter of time before Valerie splashed Iona, soaking her bodice, and Iona retaliated in kind. Thea’s dress was brand new and she didn’t want to spoil a wonderful day by having an argument with her mother, so she fled from the battle well before she could be dragged into it. She was content to place herself on a warm rock next to the boys and yell advice from the sidelines. 

Adonias came to sit next to Thea. His presence was welcome until he looked at the two girls playing in the water, sighed heavily, and said, “That’s hot.”

“You’re a fucking pig, Adonias.”

Cicero let out a startled laugh. “Language, little Fontaine.”

“I’m serious. If there was a rock nearby big enough to kill you with, I would consider it. This is why Iona stopped sleeping with you.”

Cicero dropped the stone he had been sharpening his knife with. “Excuse me?”

Adonias sent Thea a poisonous glare. She simpered back, knowing what she had done. “Oh! I’m terribly sorry. You seem to have some explaining to do. A hasty mouth makes mighty trouble, isn’t that right, Adonias?”

Adonias was about to respond when Cicero seized his collar and hauled him to his feet. His blade winked in his hand. Adonias did not take well to being manhandled and was quick to shove Cicero’s hand off his neck. But Adonias was unarmed and the accused violator of a sister’s propriety. Thea stood, suddenly seeing how bad this could get. 

Val and Iona turned at the disruption, and Iona was the first to call out. “Cicero! Adonias!” This was not Iona’s first or fiftieth time breaking the two apart; she knew how to get their attention with only her voice. She climbed out of the water and onto the riverbank, dripping from her hem but still somehow managing to look regal. 

“None of that. I mean it. If you want to fight, you will go someplace else and not ruin the mood of this afternoon.” Her words were final. 

Val broke the tension when she followed Iona onto the back, wringing out her short hair. “I’ll fight you, Adonias. If you promise to cry when I beat you.”

Thea scoffed out a laugh and was rewarded with Val’s wink. Cicero, thankfully, miraculously, dropped the subject but shoved Adonias hard enough to send him rocking back on his heels. Iona raised an eyebrow but kept silent. 

Cicero came to sit next to Thea, who had taken up her perch on the sunny rock and was smoothing her skirts out and trying to look innocent. He used the pommel of his knife to turn her face to him and said, “What was that about a hasty mouth making trouble?”

Thea removed the knife from his hand and hid it in the folds of her skirt. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Lies sound repulsive coming from your mouth.”

Thea bit back a rather inappropriate quip that would have been more suited to Valerie’s tastes. 

Adonias had fallen into smooth chatter with Val and Iona as the girls tried to figure out how to dry their hair and dresses as quickly as possible. Thea glanced at them and was amused to see Valerie using her skirt to polish her bladed ring. When she looked back at Cicero, he was leaning back on his hands, tilting his face up to the sun, closing his eyes. His hair was glinting a deep red in the sunlight and beginning to curl with the rising humidity. The tension had gone from his face and left in its wake a Cicero that Thea often never saw. His mouth was parted slightly, his breathing steady as he soaked up the warmth. But Thea’s heart had begun to pound so she forced herself to look away before she could notice anything else.

[enter-remiges]

Me: I shall write a small idfic! 

Also me: *accidentally writes 1.8k* 

Anyway, here’s Kris/Flower at a wedding (not their own) + dancing in the rain, enjoy!

Kris' rental breaks down on the side of the road four hours into his trip to the lake house. It's not a big deal—someone's going to tow it, and he's got a car coming to take him to whatever the nearest hotel is. He's not on a schedule, since it's the beginning of summer, but it's just… aggravating. He wishes he had someone around to commiserate with, but everyone he knows in this area is either traveling or training or… wait. 

hey, whats your gate code, he texts Flower. He's pretty sure today is the wedding Flower had been telling him about, one of his cousins or something like that, but it shouldn't be too far to the house he has up here. Flower won't mind him crashing for a while, and Kris doesn't need to be at the lake today, anyway. He'd been planning on stopping to see Flower on his way back, but he's flexible. 

He's just rounding up his stuff when his phone buzzes, and he pulls it out of his pocket to see Flower's calling him. 

"Hey," he answers, surprised. "Sorry, I thought you were at that wedding today?" 

"I am," Flower says, his voice slightly muffled. "What's up?" 

"My rental broke down, I thought I'd hang at your place for a bit. But if you're busy—"

"No, where are you?" Flower interrupts. "The wedding's not that far from my house." 

"Outside of Tamville?" Kris tries. He remembers the town sign, a hideous monstrosity of red and gold, but that's about it. "Tadville? Something like that. But you don't need to come get me, I've got a car coming." 

"No, I'll get you," Flower says. It sounds like someone is yelling in the background. "Near Tamville, you said?" 

"Yeah, just past town, but—" Kris says, only to be greeted by the dead air of a disconnected line. "But of course I expect you to drop everything, including your cousin's wedding when I call, that's obviously how I was going to finish that sentence," he mutters. "Obviously.

He cancels the car and goes to sit on the trunk and wait for Flower, because while it's not that sunny out it is still hot. He'll take the chance of a breeze over sitting in the heat of a car without air conditioning any day. Flower pulls up maybe twenty minutes later and doesn't even get out, just waves. Kris hops off the trunk and makes sure he has his keys and wallet. He throws his bags in the backseat, then gets in. 

"I didn't mean you had to abandon your cousin's wedding and come get me," is the first thing out of his mouth. 

"You're welcome," Flower says, rolling his eyes like Kris is the one behaving strangely. "Seatbelt. And the wedding didn't." 

Kris squints at him, fastening his seatbelt. "Didn't what?" 

"It didn't go," Flower clarifies, putting the car in drive. "At least, I'm pretty sure it didn't. I guess we'll see when we get back." 

Kris watches the scenery speed past outside the window in a green-brown blur, and out of all the questions flooding through his mind, what comes out is, "We?"

Flower's cousin's wedding—and Kris really should have asked what her name is, because now it's just embarrassing—is an outdoors affair, featuring a picturesque red barn, rows of white folding chairs, and an aisle scattered with rose petals. There's a huge sycamore tree to the left that must be great for pictures, as well as catered food under tents and a dirt space that's obviously intended to be a dance floor, judging by the live band. 

There's also a veil lying on the ground near the front. Some of the chairs are overturned. The cake has a chunk out of it, like someone grabbed a handful and threw it at someone else. The bride at the groom, Kris learns from a friend of a cousin of a cousin of the bride. 

"It hit him square on," she enthuses, apparently unconcerned with this turn of events. "Like, pwoosh." Her hands form an explosion of icing and cake, and Kris nods along while trying to keep a straight face. Flower, the asshole, has no such compunctions. He's laughing silently behind her, and seems to share her blasé attitude toward the whole thing. 

"Excuse me," Kris says, as politely as he can. "I just need to…" 

"Oh, of course," the woman says, patting him on the arm. She's apparently as unconcerned with his shorts and t-shirt combo as she is with the lack of vows being exchanged. "The drinks are in that tent, if you want some," she continues, voice conspiratorially low. "I think the bride and groom took some bottles when they left, but there's still some good stuff." Then she winks. 

This is officially the strangest wedding Kris has ever been to. 

"Thanks," he tells her, then heads toward the tent she'd pointed out to see what's still on offer. Flower's disappeared somewhere among the milling guests who are taking advantage of the reception-but-not, but Kris finds him without much trouble. He's sitting at a round table in the tent that dinner would have been served in. The mangled cake lists at the front next to warming pans and baskets of rolls. 

"So," Kris says mildly, hooking a food around a chair and spinning it around before sitting down. "Care to tell me just what the fuck is going on here?" 

Flower rolls his eyes. "Ruth—" and that must be the cousin's name, thank god Kris hadn't led with Priscilla, that had been his first guess, "—and Harry are just like that. Tumultuous, I guess you could say." 

Kris thinks of the chunk taken out of that cake, and barely refrains from snorting his purloined beer out his nose. "You don't say." 

"This is the second wedding I've been invited to for them," Flower confesses. "Not counting the first time they got married, which I wasn't there for."

"They've been married before?" Kris asks. "To each other? And they want to get married again?" 

Flower shrugs. "They're probably eloping right now, if I had to guess. I think they like the drama of it all, don't ask me."  

"Wow," Kris says, leaning back. "I don't know if I've ever told you this before, but your extended family is wild." 

Flower nods, looking unperturbed. "You get used to it." 

They sit in companionable silence for a bit, Kris occasionally stealing macarons off Flower's plate and getting halfheartedly smacked for his troubles, until he hears a trumpet play a riff. A guitar joins in soon after, though it sounds like they have a bit of a disagreement over what song they should be playing before they get it straightened out. 

"Dance?" Flower asks, raising an eyebrow.

Kris nods definitively. "Dance." 

The band sounds like they'd taken the opportunity to start drinking, but the music is still passable. A couple of other people are on the square of dirt as well, the women kicking off their heels and the men loosening their ties. There's an elderly couple swing dancing, two women in matching green dresses and ivory hair. They look like they're having a great time, orbiting each other as various other guests clap. 

"We're not doing that," Kris says, nodding his chin at where the women have finished their song and are bowing to the crowd they've attracted before they start swaying together, arms around each other, even though the next song isn't a slow one.

"Are you sure?" Flower asks, grinning at him. "I've got some moves." 

Kris laughs in his face. "I've seen your moves, you've got no secrets left from me." 

"Oh yeah?" Flower challenges. "Show me how it's done then," and Kris is helpless to turn down a dare like that. They dance their way across the square, trying to one-up each other while at the same time avoiding running into the other dancers. There's a group of teens who must be double-jointed to pull off some of their moves, and Kris only briefly thinks about trying to imitate them. Very briefly. 

A couple of songs pass, and he and Flower settle into a rhythm. The sky is turning dark faster than the approaching dusk should warrant, and Kris looks up at the clouds rolling in. It doesn't take long before it starts to sprinkle, and the other guests start for the cover of the food tents.  

"You said they'd been married before, when you weren't there?" Kris asks making no move to follow them, and Flower nods. "Are you sure it's not you? Because from what you've told me, the only common factor in them not being able to get married at their own wedding is you. You're bad luck." 

"Shut the fuck up," Flower laughs as the rain turns from a sprinkle to actual drops. "And I left to get you, didn't I? If your hypothesis was right, they should have tied the knot while I was picking your sorry ass up." 

"Ah, but you were still here," Kris points out. "The damage had already been done." 

They bicker back and forth for a bit until the rain gets harder and the music cuts out, one instrument at a time.

"Never would have made it on the Titanic," Kris says, watching the band scurry for cover. 

"Do you want to show them how it's done?" Flower asks, and when Kris turns he's right there, bright eyes and mischievous smile, bending the world to his will through the force of his personality. Kris is getting soaked, and the wind is picking up, his socks are going to start squelching pretty soon. He doesn't even think about saying no. 

"Mr. Fleury," Kris says, mock-bowing. 

"Mr. Letang." Flower holds out his arm, and Kris can't even muster up much of a glare at being left to follow instead of lead. Flower doesn't even count them down before his hand on Kris' waist is guiding him into a spin.

Flower's dress shoes slip in the mud, and Kris' shirt is sticking to his back, and together they fumble their way through a franken-waltz that would make a dancer cry. Thunder rumbles in the distance, and the white of Flower's teeth flash in the dim light as he grins. Kris runs his hand up to cup the back of his neck, Flower's skin damp against his palm.

"Come on, you have a house around here somewhere, don't you?" he asks, leaning in closer than he needs to be heard. He's rewarded by the swell of Flower's adam's apple dipping as he swallows. 

"I think something can be arranged," Flower murmurs. Above them, the sky flickers with lightning, distant but moving closer. 

"Well then," Kris says, leaning back and trailing a hand down the damp fabric of Flower's button-up. He thinks he can see a hint of nipple through the sheer material.. "Lead on. You're driving."  

The cake is soaked, but they take a bottle of champagne for the road.

[tippitv]

Recap: “Ouroboros” 14-14

Hey everyone! In an effort to get the recap out in a timely fashion, I'm trying something new. I'm doing it live-blog style and adding gifs already available on Tumblr as I format it for posting. Making pics with captions and photoshopping is super slow and laborious on my ancient computer. Just that part of the recaps usually takes 8-10 hours to do. In a recap that has a LOT of graphics, it might take 12.

THEN!

Ooh I've apparently missed more episodes than I realized. Veronica Cartwright, who's one of my favorite character actresses ever, brought Jack back to life. 

But with like... dire consequences, as per yoozh.

NOW!

Raton, New Mexico. Hey I've been there! I was driving to Colorado when I was 19 and we hit Raton riiiiight before we had to start driving up a narrow mountain road... when an ice storm hit... and I, a Texan who'd never driven over so much as an ice cube, thought I was going to kill us all.

Anyway it's nice to see an episode start somewhere in the Southwest for a change of pace.

This music is super cute. Someone let me know what it is? Also, I don't know who this guy is but he knows how to chop vegetables. I like him already! Oh... oh wait. There's a dead man on his kitchen island and the knife guy is harvesting his organs for dinner. Sorry, my dude, but I only have room in my heart for one cannibal

Oh he's got some lizard eyes on him, too. That's also a deal breaker. Somehow his repto-vision allows him to sense that the Winchesters are coming for him, so he grabs his pet snake Felix and sneaks away.

The episode is titled "Ouroboros," and I can't see that word without thinking of the episode of Red Dwarf where the people found the cardboard box with Lister in it. They misread the word as "Our Rob, or Ross." Shout out to the handful people following me who know what I'm talking about.

The Winchesters show up. Oh hey Castiel and Jack are with them, too! Snake Boy didn't see that. "Oh no," Cas says, despairing at the scene in the kitchen. I know. A wasted pasta dinner! Also a dead body.

Sam and Dean are frustrated that they've failed to catch this guy yet again. How is anyone not barfing at the smell of fried human liver? Have they become inured to it because of all the flaming hunter funerals? That's probably it.

"My money's on witchcraft," Dean grumbles. Rowena walks up behind him like

Oh ho ho why's she so flirtatious with Castiel? What did I miss there? Well he seems as confused as I am, and less titillated. Maybe nothing happened and she's just someone with eyes who happens to see how cute he is.

Everyone wonders why the victim, like all the other victims, appears not to have fought back. I mean, there's a lot of nihilism these days. Maybe it's a case of "fuck it, if this guy doesn't kill me the climate change will." Jack finds a freshly shed snake skin on the floor.

They wonder if the victim had pet snakes but think he doesn't seem the type. Like, I know a stay-at-home suburban mom with multiple snakes so I don't think there's just one type of herp enthusiast. Jack starts coughing and everyone's like

Jack assures them he's not dying again but he probably is.

Rowena notices there's a blackish powder around the victim's lips. The others tell her the other victims had something similar but they ignored it so that Dean and Rowena could look back and forth at each other with their best So Done faces.

As funny as the exchange is, I do so hate plot-necessitated dumbness. There's no way they wouldn't have looked into the black powder on all the victims' faces.

Sam and Rowena do some research in the motel de la nuit, which has a fabulous Missoni-inspired wallpaper. Man I wouldn't mind having some of that! Anyway, she's curious about Jack being not-dead and Dean keeping an archangel locked up in his head somehow. Sam doesn't want to talk about it.

Meanwhile, Jack's in the bathroom having one of those Moulin Rouge coughing fits. Has anyone thought of like... getting the kid some Robitussin? He uses a small amount of power to heal his cough. I think Veronica Cartwright warned against this in the previouslies.  

Dean's growing a mite weary and still thinks their inevitable option is going to be the magic coffin. Cas's face goes

Castiel tiredly explains what the word "liturgical" means when Jack and Dean give him confused looks. I mean I guess Jack might not know, but Dean should sure as heck know.

When they get back to the motel, Rowena says they're dealing with a Gorgon. "Like Medusa!" Dean pipes up. Oh I bet this leads to a Clash of the Titans jok---and there it is. They blah blah blah about how eating human eyes allows a Gorgon to see the future and evade capture. "So even if we use your tracking spell, he'll know," Cas says. Why do they assume it's a man when the Gorgons have always been depicted as shes?

So Snake Boy approaches a guy outside a truck stop and asks for help. "I'd find a way to pay you back." He turns the flirting up about ten notches and the trucker shiftily tells him to get inside. They kiss and the trucker is slowly paralyzed. Oh noooo I have a dozen things to say about queer villainy and victimization but I'm live blogging so remind me to come back to it.

Cas's hair is high as hell today. Remember there was this whole plot a while back about how Heaven is running out of power because there are so few angels? Maybe he's powering Heaven with his hair.

Noah, that's apparently the Gorgon's name, has left a note on the body for Dean. "I see you standing alone reading this note," NUH UH he's standing with Cas. He warns Dean to stop chasing him. "Why doesn't he mention me?" Cas asks. Right?? "Maybe you're not his type," Dean says. Cas rolls his eyes upward but the low-hanging fruit is practically on the ground.

After a confab with Sam and Rowena, they work out a plan for Cas and Jack to go after Noah since they seem to be invisible to him. They just need some anti-venom in case the Gorgon tries to poison them. Or just tell them not to kiss the guy? Maybe they don't know kissing is how he

OH MY FUCKING GOD ROWENA TURNS JACK INTO A VERY TINY DOG AND RUSHES HIM TO THE VET WITH SAM AND HE LOOKS LIKE A MUPPET

Jack the dog gets a thermometer up the butt... Then the vet or tech or whoever she is just... leaves him on the exam table unattended. That's not remotely what happens at clinics but whatever. As soon as Jack is alone, he turns back into a person with all his clothes on. I don't know why that seems more unrealistic to me than him turning into a dog, period.

He finds the anti-venom, makes a joke about his poor butt, and then Sam and Rowena have a conversation in the parking lot about how he was brought back to life. Then the vet runs out and confronts them!

Just kidding, they talk as long as they want without ever being discovered.

Noah's got his latest victim tied up somewhere. He says he finds more men to eat because women are more cautious. True dat. He kept the guy alive long enough to blah blah for a while but now he gives him a smooch on the cheek to paralyze him.

Rowena casts a locator spell... Why wouldn't Noah be able to see her and know something is up? Only the angelic ones are invisible to him. Oh my word Castiel kicks open the door VERY forcefully and I'm like

But wait... first he knocked. Why did he knock first? You know what let's just move on. Castiel goes and de-venomizes the latest victim. For some reason nobody's cutting off Noah's head yet so he just goes on talking. Something about a snake and some chicken eggs. Even Castiel is like, "Why are you telling this story??" And Noah, looking at Jack, goes, "Because I can't tell if he's the chicken or the snake."

Fisticuffs attempt to ensue! Lolol it's briefly a slap fight. Noah kisses Cas on the cheek. This is the most unrealistic part of this episode. Why would you kiss some rando trucker on the mouth and not this guy.

Hm there's still 15 minutes left. For some reason, the anti-venom doesn't work on Cas, so Jack has to use some of his powers. Maybe you should have tried giving him more of it first but whatever.

LOL they drive all the way from New Mexico to Kansas with unconscious Dean and rush him into the med bay. It's at least an eight hour drive! Maggie's like, "I'll get some ice!" It's been at least eight hours! Why didn't they just bring him to a regular hospital?? Nothing supernatural happened to him! He got his head wanged!

Jack is pretty upset about the prospect of Dean dying but Cas seems... philosophical about it. Maybe he knows they got renewed for season 15 and isn't too worried.

Oh Dean's awake and everything's fine! Just kidding he's on a rampage knocking everything over. Someone tell Maggie to forget the ice. He's in a rage because he "let his guard down" and now Michael has left. I mean... you were knocked out by a plot contrivance, my dude. Don't be too hard on yourself.

Oh shiiiit Michael's gone and killed everyone in the bunker. Not any of the main characters, obviously, but everyone else. Oh double shiiiiiit he's got Rowena as a vessel now. Wait. Why would she have said yes to him?

Ah...Michael paid her a little visit in her mind and said he'd kill everyone she cares about. She's loath to admit it but she does care for these people. Well, the main characters, at least.

Oh my gosh I love Ruth Connell. This is my fave version of Michael yet. Too bad it won't last!

Jack decides to use his powers to save everyone even if it means dying! Except he doesn't die because it's only March. He forces Michael out of Rowena, then sucks down the evacuated grace like

Everything goes quiet. Everyone's like... wtf? what?? the fuck??? They wait on pins and needles to see what happened to Jack. Jack's like, "I'm me again!" with the glowing flame eyes and the shadow wings. The music makes this seem very ominous. Maybe it means he doesn't have a soul anymore. Either way he seems very powerful again so good luck getting a rectal thermometer into him now.

Wait... why was this episode called Ouroboros when it was an entirely different snake thing? Ohhh maybe it was Jack eating/using his own powers to help himself? Let's say it's that.

If you enjoyed this recap, and are able, please drop something into my virtual tip jar here: https://www.paypal.me/tippiblevins  Henry the Hound and I could use grocery/vet money so anything is appreciated, including reblogs!

Thank you for reading!

[tisthenightofthewitch]

Tobias Forge of Ghost talks about bringing humanity to Clearwater's Ruth Eckerd Hall

Nothing can humanize a macabre, outspoken, unapologetically flamboyant and possibly undead metal band frontman like a yawn, and that’s exactly what Tobias gave CL when we caught up with Swedish musician and songwriter via phone as he prepped for a show at the Kiva Auditorium in New Mexico on November 8.

“I wouldn’t say that it’s taken its toll, but you can definitely feel it after a few days,” Forge said, alluding to the more than two-hour show he and his band put together every night. No need to crucify the 37-year-old mastermind behind Ghost, however, because he’s had a whirlwind year. Since opening for Iron Maiden at Tampa’s Amalie Arena last summer, Ghost has given fans an ambitious new album (Prequelle, released in June) and embarked on its own journey toward arena-rocker status.

In the months after that Tampa show, four of Ghost’s “Nameless Ghouls” sued Forge for 200,000 krona (approximately $22,000) in unpaid compensation. The foursome received a fixed salary, but argued that it had not received a rightful share of Ghost’s profits during their tenure. The Ghouls lost in November 2017, but Forge, who had enjoyed performing anonymously as different characters in the Ghost story, was forced to reveal his identity.

Since then, he’s diminished the role of Ghost’s anti-Pope, Papa Emeritus, and taken the onstage identity of Cardinal Copia, who is the toastmaster and ringleader of Ghost’s current arena and theater tour, which is coming to Clearwater’s Ruth Eckerd Hall on Sunday. Forge now takes interviews as himself (in the past he’d either come dressed in all black and wearing the menacing, metallic mask of a Nameless Ghoul or appear as Papa, robed with religious miter thurible in hand), but he also has a new devotion to making Ghost the most entertaining thing his fans have ever seen. The physical pain feels good.

“Everybody is working their hardest. Not like we’re breaking apart, but it feels like we’re adding a lot of value to the ticket, which is a good feeling,” Forge said, adding that the crew spends its days off doing very little.

“It’s a strong show, man. Getting better and better all the time.”

Prequelle, Ghost’s fourth album, is arguably its best to date, too. On it, Forge (as Copia) has assembled a new cast of Nameless Ghouls and doubled down on the hook-laden, anthemic hard rock from Ghost’s 2015 breakthrough, Meliora. Forge has admitted to never being an ‘80s or ‘90s kind of shredder who plays a million notes a minute; he actually cops to style that’s more ‘60s and ‘70s. Prequelle’s melodies are almost as catchy as those from another Swedish export, ABBA, but the rest of the big lead guitar lines and soaring singing feel like a mishmash of everything from Def Leppard and Judas Priest to Blue Öyster Cult and Alice Cooper.

All of it, of course, is largely occult, and that’s always drawn the interest of religious groups obsessed with thwarting the devil at every turn. Less than a week ago, community members in Midland, Texas gathered to pray over Ghost’s concert at the Wagner Noël Performing Arts Center. Pastor Larry Long didn’t want to cancel the show and expressed concern for Ghost, but he was more or less wondering why the venue would want to book the act.

“We have a freedom of religion in America, which means a freedom of irreligion and anti-Christian faith,” Long told a program on the city’s 107.1-FM, adding that the show was not healthy for his community.

“I’m not in favor of outlawing the band per se; what I’m in favor is finding out from Wagner Noël what in the world they’re thinking… I’m sure the band believes the devil’s real,” Long said. “I doubt that they’re just doing this as a part of their shtick for music and music they produce and so on. And if you were to read some of the lyrics of their songs, they’re really quite disturbing.”

Forge, for his part, has always maintained that the band uses the imagery because “it looks awesome.” Ghost has no intention of trying to send impressionable young kids to hell, and if Long would listen to the message behind Prequelle highlight “Rats,” then he might even find the message of hope and salvation that Cardinal Copia preaches every night.

“In times of turmoil, in times like these, beliefs contagious — spreading disease. This wretched mischief is now coursing through your souls, never to let go,” he sings. “Into your sanctum, you let them in. Now, all your loved ones, and all your kin, will suffer punishments beneath the wrath of God — never to forgive.”

Forge has been an outspoken critic of bullying and admits to being on both sides of the torment that kids subject each other to. He softens up when talking about friends and acquaintances who’ve taken their own lives after feeling like life was beating them down.

“One thing I thought when I was getting bullied was that this is just part of life. This is not gonna last forever. That’s a hard thing when you are a pre-teen or a teenager — you can’t look beyond it,” he said. “When I look back now, it’s like what a shame that they weren’t given the tools to endure what could’ve been just a few more years before getting new and different experiences.”

Asked whether the characters in Ghost’s albums are meant to be protectors of the fans who are probably are outsiders in their own worlds, Forge offered another enlightening answer.

“I hope so,” he said. “I hope that everyone that comes to a Ghost show with the intention of experiencing something, but I really hope that they leave feeling not only the experience of having a super concert, but feeling like their lives are better, too.”

If that’s not human, then what is?

CLTampa.com

[linoholic]

Poly!Namjin

Requested: anon asked: Hello! Can you do a poly!Namjin (Bts) and Poly relationship with N and Ken (Vixx)?❤️

Pairing: BTS Seokjin x Namjoon x Reader

Genre: poly!au, 1920s!au

Warnings:  drinking, blood and violence, swearing, probably minor historical inaccuracies

I got way off track writing this as I got so distracted just relearning about all the history. So sorry about the mini history lesson. I got a little over excited. I did force myself to not use much of the lingo though, as I doubt many people would understand that. Also thank you Airplane Pt 2 for gifting me with the perfect gif.

(This is almost 6000 words of complete and utter rubbish oops)

America in the 1920s

The Roaring Twenties

The First World War was over, bringing with it much social and politcal change

Women had the vote, jazz music was all the rage, automobiles were starting to fill the streets of more than just cities, mass media was on the rise

Celebrities started being born in Hollywood and on Broadway; names such as Coco Chanel, Josephine Baker, Charlie Chaplin and Babe Ruth were household names

But it was also known as the ‘Prohibition era’ thanks to the Volstead Act that was passed in October 1919 stating that all beverages over 0.5% were illegal; a way the government tried to lower crime rates

Not that it worked out that way of course, as with the prohibition came the rise of speakeasies, underground establishments used to sell alcohol

It was in one of these speakeasies that you worked

Your uncle had owned a bar the decade previous, which went out of business when the act was passed

That didn’t stop him from running his business on the sly though, and he became just one of many owners of speakeasies in Los Angeles

With the cities population more than doubling in size thanks to people immigrating for jobs from the midwest and Mexico, there was plenty of business and clientele

Pretty soon his bar became one of the most popular ones in the suburb, drawing a massive crowd every night

People from all walks of life were attracted to the place; from flappers to actors to mothers to farmers, the basement under the hardware shop saw many faces over the years

Which is how you came to work there

You uncle had been in need of some help due to the growing size of the place, and you had offered yourself up

You had just broken free from the reigns of your parents, moving out of the family home to a tiny apartment shared with three other people and your day job working in a small office filing papers wasn’t paying much

And so as soon as the sun set and the moon rose, you turned from a prim, clean cut office worker to a fashion foward, carefree wait staff

And you loved it

In the room that always stank of smoke, sweat and alcohol, the outside world disappeared

People of all classes and colour mingled, men and women were free to be themselves, showing as much or as little skin as they wanted and dance the night away with all the drinks they could want at their fingertips

Of course, you were well aware of the darkness under the layers of fun and happiness

There was always the fear of the police or agents of the bureau of prohibition knocking at the door to raid the place; and it wasn’t exactly a crime free business, with many gangs and such being involved in the whole culture around speakeasies

But you decided to not worry about it all until that moment was upon you

And the fact that Namjoon worked alongside you made you feel much safer

Kim Namjoon; a bouncer at the bar who was either guarding the door and taking passwords or found standing in one of the corners of the room

He was tall, strong, and absolutely gorgeous

But despite his intimidating appearance, he was a complete softy really

He was kind, thoughtful and intelligent

You knew this from the amount of times he would stand behind the bar with you to make sure nobody tried anything dirty to get more drinks

The two of you would always make small talk, talking about the usual things such as the weather, family and the like

But these conversations quickly turned deeper as you got closer, and you eagerly listened with open ears and an open mind as Namjoon talked to you about everything from politics and music to his childhood and the meaning of life

He had such an advanced mind and perception of the world, especially compared to that of your own parents who still acted like they were living in the 19th century

You loved complimenting him on this, often comparing him to that of Einstein (which often started him off on rants about how he wished he could have attended one of the many lectures the scientist did on his visit to the US)

The two of you had many discussions on various topics that often made the patrons you were serving drinks to raise their eyebrows or tilt their heads in confusion

One person who didn’t act like this when they overheard your conversations was a man by the name of Seokjin

Kim Seokjin: called Jin by everyone, one of two of the singers in the speakeasy, found nursing a drink at the bar or conversing with patrons when not singing his heart out on the small stage

Seokjin was strikingly handsome and had the voice of an angel

Always dressed better than even some of the higher class celebrities that could be found roaming the establishment, he caught the attention of all the guys and gals who visited the speakeasy, and was the object of many a daydream

He was always receiving offers from pretty flappers with perfectly curled short hair and guys with freshly pressed pinstriped suits and oiled hair to join them during his breaks from singing

But much to everyones surprise, despite being so confident and forward, he never once accepted any of those offers

That was because when it was the other singer, Taehyung’s turn to take the stage, Seokjin loved to sit at the very bar you manned, nursing a drink and staring at you all starry eyed as you chatted with customers or wiped down glasses

And he enjoyed it even more when Namjoon joined you behind the bar, as to him it was twice as much eye candy

Because goodness did he find the two of you attractive

He loved seeing Namjoon acting all tough to the patrons, not so subtly rolling ups his sleeves to show of his (very nice) arms when someone started up some trouble, his stern face that could put fear into the hearts of the toughest man or woman, his deep voice that only got deeper when threatening someone

He loved the concentration you had on your face when you were pouring a drink, whether it being the cheap moonshine or the expensive illegally imported liquor, how you became sarcastic when some dude tried to swindle you, how good you looked when wiping sweat from you forward with your shirt

But he absolutely loved it when Jungkook took over at the door and Namjoon joined you behind the bar, as it meant he got to see the other sides of both of you

Because when you and Namjoon were together is when the both of you smiled the widest, and Seokjin had absolutely fallen in love with those smiles

His favourite thing was to just ignore all the smoking and drinking and dancing happening around him and just sit close by and listen into the conversations you would share

It was quite obvious to anyone that payed attention that he had a massive thing for you and Namjoon

He often talked about the both of you to Taehyung the same way most people his age talked about the likes of Louise Brooks or F. Scott Fitzgerald - to which the younger boy would try and convince him to just speak to you

Because yes, he had yet to say a word to either of you

Usually he was known for being outgoing, always talking to anyone and everyone and charming them easily

But for some reason he just couldn’t work up the nerve to even say a hello to either of you

So he just settled with admiring from afar

What he didn’t know is that you and Namjoon were just as aware of him as he was you

Despite the bustling nightlife, playing security could sometimes get a little boring when people decided to behave themselves for once

And during these (admittedly few) moments, his attention was often drawn to the silky voice coming from the man in the silky shirt with a stage presence to match those of the most famous actors and singers, singing along perfectly to the tunes the pianist Yoongi was playing

And there was one time where you almost dropped a glass when you were too busy paying attention to the man and a customer tried to get your attention startling you

Because how could you not get distracted by looking at him?

And that only happened more once you got a glimpse at the man behind the voice

Because you became especially interested in him when you saw him acting completely goofy with Taehyung when the younger boy was obviously not feeling too good, completely shameless with his silly dancing despite all the eyes on him, making you really want to get to know him even even more than you did when you admittedly thought of him as simply a pretty face

Sentiments which were shared by Namjoon which you knew considering the two of you would often talk about him and the new suit he was wearing, or the highnote he hit, or how cute he looked when you caught him sneakily eating some chocolate on his break

But nothing ever really came of it except mutual attraction from a distance thanks to how busy you all were during the open hours of the bar

Well, nothing between Seokjin and you or Seokjin and Namjoon anyway

Because over time and conversations a plenty, the strong attraction you feel towards Seokjin start also appearing towards Namjoon

Not that you ever tried denying how attractive he was or anything - you just thought that it was simply a platonic friendship

But no, now you were fawning over two people

And Namjoon being the smarty pants he is, quickly notices this and all of a sudden the deep conversations and gossip you shared now included flirting amidst it all

Neither of you ever really asked to court the other as such, nor were you particularly exclusive or anything - you didn’t call the other your sweetheart or anything

But anyone with eyes could tell there was something going on

And what do you know, Seokjin has eyes, and he wanted in on this sweet talking that was happening

Not that he could gather up the courage to actually act on that though

Instead poor Yoongi had to listen as the older boy draped himself dramatically over the top of the piano and whine about how love had forsaken him

Eventually, Yoongi had had enough, and while he usually wouldn’t talk back to his elder as Jin would be quick to put him in his place, he just couldn’t take anymore and on one of their breaks he personally dragged Seokjin over to the bar and pushed him down on an empty stool, chucked down a couple dollars from his own wallet and left him alone, simply leaving with a smirk and “good luck”

Despite the many customers you were serving, as soon as you saw Seokjin sitting at your bar you quickly rushed through, trying to serve as many people as quickly as possible to get to the man

“The usual Bee’s Knees for you?” you ask, coming to a halt in front of Jin, leaning on the counter to wait for his reply

“Well, I am the bee’s knees so of course,” he says, half joking and lowkey half serious

“Well, it does suit you. Gin and honey with a lemon twist. It’s you as a drink,” you say, winking at him as you quickly getting to work making the cocktail

Jin had to stop himself from bursting out laughing at the subtle pun, instead settling for smiling widely, both at the joke and the fact he was actually interacting with you

You on the other hand were in very much the same state

Usually you wouldn’t have a chance to even say hello to the singer as he never even had to think about buying his own drinks with there being plenty of admirers willing to do so for him

But now there he was, right in front of you actually talking to you and you knew you should make the most of it before he was off performing again

And that you did

After pouring his drink and handing it over, another bartender came over and finally started tending to patrons allowing you the chance to stay and chat with Jin for a few, just making some small talk and getting to know the guy a bit more

During that time, Namjoon’s break also starts and like clockwork he wonders over to join you behind the bar, squeezing past various people before finally making it

Walking up behind you he grazes a hand across your back, allowing it to settle on your hip as he comes to a stop beside you

And it is then that he finally notices the person you had been in conversation with

Seeing Seokjin, Namjoon’s face lights up with a bright smile, showcasing his dimples for all to see

A smile which immediately turns Seokjin to goo as he takes notice of the new presence

You are quick to include Namjoon in your conversation, which did intimidate Seokjin a little

As not only did he have to interact with one person he carried a torch for; but both of them

Though he quickly discovered that there was nothing to be intimidated about, and as the night went on, he was quick to join either you or Namjoon whenever he wasn’t performing

And so your little duo of you and Namjoon became a trio, with the three of you becoming very good ‘friends’

Because the weird not quite platonic not quite romantic relationship you had going on between you and Namjoon quickly included Seokjin

From then on it wasn’t uncommon to find Namjoon’s arm over your shoulder as the two of you rested on the bar while Seokjin nursed a drink on the other side, leaning in close, the three of you in your own little bubble

The three of you were constantly flirting whenever you had the chance, with you and Namjoon discovering that Seokjin both loved to recieve and dish it out

But once again, nothing ever actually crossed the line, only ever toeing it

This was mainly because you all ever only saw each other at night during your shifts at the speakeasy

You were only a part of each others night life; not once had you seen either of them when the sun was up and you were a mere law abiding citizen

And during the nights your were all so busy; not only were you all helping provide a business, but a dangerous business

At any moment you could be raided, or a gang or the mob could decide to come in and try to take over

And so instead of trying to make something of it, you all simply decided to be content with the relationship you had going instead of complicating life further

So life went on, with you serving illegal alcohol, Namjoon protecting illegal alcohol and Jin consuming illegal alcohol

It all changed when it stopped being just a night time thing though

Your uncle was the one who dealt with the suppliers usually; talking money and all that

And he had his go to person who picked up the shipments from wherever, whenever

But one day, he had turned up on your doorstep in the middle of a Saturday -your day off- asking for a huge favour

He wanted you to join Namjoon in picking up a shipment of moonshine, something you had never done before and you knew Namjoon had never done before

Upon questioning why you two, your uncle had explained that he would would be leaving to go out of town on urgent business as soon as he left your place, and that the person he usually relied on to make pick ups was currently...incapacitated

And that you and Namjoon were his next most trusted employees capable of the job

Not wanting to let down family, off you went to meet Namjoon

It was weird seeing Namjoon in broad daylight and not the dim, smoky basement that was the speakeasy

And apparently it was just as weird for him, as as you walked up to the location your uncle had set up for the two of you to meet, he just kept staring at you with a small smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye

“Your hair looks so different in the sun. And your eyes. They’re so much prettier,” he says with seemingly no shame, forgoing a greeting completely

You find it hard not to blush, especially when you were thinking the exact same thing, but you manage to keep your composure and give a “right back at ya” to him, causing him to chuckle and smile sheepishly

With that you are hopping into the passengers side of a car (that you find out had been borrowed from the original pick up guy)

It is the first time you had driven in a car in a while, usually taking a bus or your bike to various places, and so you make the most of it, leaning on the door and allowing the breeze to ruffle your hair

And though Namjoon had to keep an eye on the streets for stray carts and people, he couldn’t help but take a glance at you every now and then, smiling at the serene look upon your face

But all too soon, you had arrived at your destination

Instead of the abandoned warehouse in the middle of a rundown district of the city like you had expected; the location you had arrived at was in one of the wealthier parts of the city - all nice buildings and nice cars and nicely dressed people

Though, you weren’t exactly in the middle of a normal neighbourhood street thank the stars, as you weren’t exactly dressed the part and didn’t feel like being glared at by snobby rich blokes and their trophy wives

You did turn down a small alleyway though, much more like what you were expecting

It did make sense for them to distil alcohol in the richer places though, as the people doing so probably had more money to protect themselves and bribe various people to keep it all hush

You and Namjoon both stepped out of the car only to be greeted by a pudgier man in his 50s in an expensive looking suit, with two broad men standing behind him (guards - you proposed)

Once more, you expected the worst only to be pleasantly surprised again

“Well well, if it isn’t little y/n! You’re uncle told me all about you! Well, aren’t ya just waterproof!” he basically bellows, pulling you in for a hug with a genuine smile large upon his face which you can’t help but return

“And this fella must be the Namjoon I was told would be coming. Well, I bet you’re a big timer aren’t ya! Come on in, let’s not beat one’s gums!” he continues, and with that you follow the man and his entourage into the building

Business doesn’t take long, and after some talking with Old Billy as the man tells you to call him, the two broad men are helping load some crates into the back of the car, joking around with the seemingly intimidating men

However, letting your guard down was a very bad idea it seems, as out of nowhere a group of seven or so men suddenly stream into the alley

You have barely any time to react to the new presences as one of the helpers is pushing you down into cover just as a gunshot rings off

One of many, as the new men all get out guns and open fire on you all

The men that helped you are quick to fire back, telling you and Namjoon to leave as help from inside comes in the form of allies

You are tucked down by the car with your hands covering your head and your eyes screwed shut when suddenly a hand grabs your forearm

Letting out a startled yelp, you open your eyes and go to shake the person off until you see that it is simply Namjoon

He doesn’t say anything, just quickly pushes you into the open car door and tells you to duck down as he follows, starting up the engine and driving as fast as he can out of the alley and into the street

Very quickly you leave behind the sounds of gunshots, and instead all you hear is the usual busy city outside the car and the heavy breathing of you and Namjoon

You hands are shaking and you aren’t sure whether it is from the adrenaline or from being scared out of your wits

After all, that was the first time you had ever been shot at

While you ha known that it could happen due to the life you live, never once did you actually expect it to happen, especially not in broad daylight

Calming yourself down, you turn to face Namjoon to say something, but all words leave your head when you see him with one hand on the wheel, the other grasping his side with a look of pain on his face

“Namjoon....?” is all you say, too shocked at the sight of blood starting to stain his shirt

“Don’t worry. It’s a graze. Nothing serious,” he says, but you can that although he tries to hide it, he is in pain and losing quite a bit of blood from what you can make out

“It is serious! You got shot! You’re bleeding, badly. We need to go to a hospital or something!”

“No, no hospitals. They’ll ask how it happened and questions are bad for us.”

“Well we can’t do nothing! You’re bleeding out! I-” you say, trying to think of ideas

You can tell that Namjoon is having a hard time controlling both the car and the bleeding, but you can’t exactly reach his wound from your position, nor can you drive

The only option is to stop, but even if you did you had no supplies to help him

That’s when one of the street signs catches your eye, bringing up a memory from a few nights prior

“Hey, didn’t Jin say he lived here? This is his street, isn’t it?”

And true to your word, it is

In a conversation a few nights before, Seokjin had told you about his place of residence; his nice flat he lived in alone on one of the nicer streets in the neighbourhood

In fact, you could even point out the building he lived in thanks to the man’s detailed description

It was like a godsend that you had noticed it, because as soon as you force Namjoon to park and get out, he stumbles out of the drivers side and almost falls to the ground, just managing to catch himself in time

You are quick to run to his aid, using your outerwear to place pressure on the wound before supporting Namjoon as much as you can, helping him into the building and up the stairs

“If I remember rightly.....” you say with your fingers crossed, knocking on the door you hope is Seokjins

And thankfully, you had no reason to doubt yourself, as mere seconds pass before the door is opening to reveal a welcome sight

You have no time to explain to Seokjin as the man catches sight of the bloodstained side of Namjoon, and he is gasping, covering his mouth in shock before stepping the other side of him, helping him into his apartment

“Quick, on the sofa,” he says and you follow his instructions, keeping your coat pressed to Namjoon’s side while Seokjin flits around his flat in worry, gathering materials here and there

He is back by your side before you know it though and you are helping him to take of Namjoon’s shirt for ease of access to the wound, murmuring comforting words as Namjoon groans in pain

If it was any other day, you would have taken the time to admire the smooth lines and curves of his body, but all your attention was diverted to the area covered in red

Seokjin carefully presses a wet cloth to the area, wiping away as much blood as possible to get a clear view of the wound, and both he and you sigh in relief as you see that Namjoon was right, it was just a graze and nothing life threatening at that moment

You and Seokjin work in harmony, cleaning the wound, disinfecting a needle and thread with vodka, steeling each others nerves to actually go through with stitching the wound, and comforting Namjoon when you see he is in discomfort

Thankfully it is all over before you know it, and Seokjin has Namjoon leant against his chest while he wraps a bandage round the younger mans torso as you go about cleaning up all the bloodstained linen and water

After tidying, you join the two men on the couch, only to be brought into the scolding Jin is giving, warning about recklessness and getting into danger

You laugh at the situation, glad that the worst is over and done with

Briefly, you hope that Old Billy and his men are alright, but it is pushed to the back of your mind as you hear Namjoon groan once again

Straight away both you and Seokjin are fussing over him, and Jin is quick to order Namjoon to stay the night so he can keep an eye on the man, and the both of you are helping Namjoon into Jin’s bedroom, forcing him to lie down and get some rest

He quickly does as he is told, the blood loss obviously exhausting him, and you and Jin leave him be, retiring to the living room and falling next to each other on the couch once more

Nothing is said between you two; instead you just lean against each other in relief

The rollercoaster of emotions exhausted you, and you rest your head against Jin’s shoulder as he takes your hand, squeezing it in comfort

“He’s okay. Thank God. He’s okay,” you say and Jin turns to face you as you start speaking

However, what he doesn’t realise is that you are already looking at him, and now you noses are mere centimetres from each other

If he moved forwards just a fraction, your lips would be on one another

And as you stare into each others eyes, reading all the emotions in them, he does just that

It is a short, sweet kiss; a reassurance that you are there and alright, a reassurance of your feelings for each other

As you break away, you both smile softly before going to lean on each other once more

It isn’t long before you fall asleep despite the daylight still outside, the days events having taken a toll on you

Smiling softly down at you, Seokjin carefully manoeuvres you so you are laying down, covering you with a blanket while he gets up to start preparing food you and Namjoon will no doubt want and need when you wake up

When the sky had turned dark outside, it is to the smell of said food that you wake up

Apparently, Jin is a stress cook you find out, as when you get up to investigate the smells you find a variety of dishes on the counter

Clam broth, baked ham, walnut bread, stuffed celery and fried cauliflower among others

However, admist all the food, you find no sign of the cook himself and so you expect that he had taken some to Namjoon

Investigating, you go to Jin’s room and open the door and the sight you see is not what you expected at all

Namjoon is sat up with Jin sitting beside him, a plate of foot long forgotten as the two got caught up in a long kiss

Jin’s hands are barely touching Namjoon, as if afraid to hurt him even more, and Namjoon has his arms wrapped around the older man’s waist

Though as they hear the door open, the two quickly break apart

You can see a worried look on Seokjin’s face, but before he can even think about explaining you are quick to move forward, moving the untouched plate and joining the two on the bed, your eyes scanning Namjoon’s body for any signs of more bleeding

When you see none, your head falls in relief upon his bare chest, and you take one of his hands in yours and one of Seokjin’s in the other

But you quickly pick your head back up with a devious smirk upon your lips, wiggling your eyebrows at Jin

“So, is Namjoon a good kisser? Better than me? Or do you think you need to test more?”

A look of shock crosses Jin’s face, but it is quickly wiped off as you gently bring him in for a kiss, longer than the one you had previously shared

As you pull away, Jin looks at you with hooded eyes

“You know, I think they were both amazing, though that’s probably because it was me kissing both of you,” he says arrogantly, and you take that as a chance to face Namjoon and bring him in for a kiss as well

Pulling away once more, you pretend to think for a while, making a show out of it while Seokjin impatiently groans, Namjoon chuckling at the whining man

“I’m not sure, Namjoon is a pretty great kisser too. It could be that we are the good kissers and you are subpar...” you tease and Jin simply glares at you

And the food is completely forgotten about as the three of you continue to share kisses as you lie snuggled up in Jin’s bed, talking through the night and eventually falling asleep

Needless to say, after that point the three of you officially get together, not that anyone apart from your absolute closest friends actually know that of course

Jin ends up making you and Namjoon stay the night again and again for a week or so, so that he can keep an eye on Namjoon’s wound

When you question while you have to stay too, Jin just shuts you up with a kiss that makes you forget what you asked

You and Jin still spend the nights working at the speakeasy, and you try and convince Namjoon to stay behind and rest, which works only once

He still ends up following along and standing tall and mighty at the door or behind the bar with you

Though at the slightest wince he is forced to sit down, which he doesn’t mind too much as Jin takes this chance to sit him close to the stage so he can serenade him

Something which happens a lot in your relationship

Because Jin will sing to you and Joon all the time, from love songs to lullabies to silly childrens playground rhymes

And if Yoongi thought that getting you all together would shut Seokjin up, he was mighty wrong as now he had to both listen to the mans lovestruck rambles and play sappy songs on the piano for him

And whenever you or Namjoon catch Jin’s eye from across the room, you can count on him sending a flying kiss your way

Which you find hilarious as sometimes men and women around you will think Jin was flirting with them, and so you and Joon have a good laugh when you see him being mobbed after doing so

Namjoon, despite being pretty macho in public, loves affection behind closed doors

He loves laying down with you or Jin on top of him, using his chest as a pillow

Bonus points if it is him in the middle with the two of you either side of him tucked under his arm

Speaking of which, he always has an arm around your shoulders or your waist

Even at the bar he does so, knowing that most people will think it’s platonic or are too drunk to even give a damn

And he loves forehead kisses

When nobody is paying attention or you just meet up, he will greet you and Jin with a dimpled smile and a kiss on your temple

Jin on the other hand prefers backhugs

Giving or receiving, he doesn’t care

Not that you or Namjoon complain because Jin and his wide shoulders make a person feel so safe when being hugged, and seeing Jin flustered when you backhug him is always a delight

Dates aren’t a thing with the three of you

People wouldn’t accept a relationship between Namjoon and Seokjin, let alone three people in a non monogamous relationship

And so it is all on the downlow, spending time with each other at Seokjins place as he is the only one without roommates

You all just spend hours talking, and when you and Seokjin are both 100% sure that Namjoon’s wound has healed, sometimes more than talking

But your are all well versed in the art of secret keeping thanks to your night time lives

And so nobody could ever prove anything; not going against your wit, Namjoons smarts and Jin’s charm

To everyone, you are all just good friend

Which you are....good friends that fuck and say “I love you”

waterproof: attractive (no need for makeup) big timer: a charming/romantic man beat one’s gums: idle chatter speakeasy: a bar selling illegal liquor a good ending: something that I will never accomplish

[smutandfluffohmy]

Halloween with Peter would include. Part 2

From: Smutandfluffohmy Read Part 1 Here: Halloween with Peter would include Character Parings: Peter Pan X Reader Warnings: Spoilers of character deaths (nothing from season 7) Request: No I'm just annoying :) A/N: I’m thinking of making a YouTube channel so uuuhhh I would hella appreciate it if y’all left some suggestions of what it could be about

The clock rang three times indicating that it was now 3 in the morning, Peter and you looked up from your pumpkin pie.

“We should probably get going” You said to Peter as you both got up from the booth and left some money on the table to cover your tab. Linking arms you made your ways out the door, Peter placed his hand on the handled opening the door as the bell jingled over the both of you. You doubled over in pain as you fell over.

“Oh fuck. Fuck. Fucking shit!” You yelled as you tried grabbing every part of your body that felt like it was burning, reaching grabbing from your back to your head and back again.

“You’re okay you’re okay” Peter said as he reached over and rubbed your back. Reaching to your headband you tried yanking it off but you couldn’t.

“Peter I can’t take it off” you said as you dug your fingers into the horns looking up at Peter ,who looked like himself again, as you started to get up. “When did you get those” You pointed at Peter’s wings that were once small and were now seemingly towering over him. He reached back to touch them and his face grew pale.

“I don’t know” Peter said running his fingers through the soft white wings, reaching over to touch something behind you you flinched away his touch felt hot and cold at the same time. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to” He said pulling his arm away and hugging it towards himself.

“I’m going to get some air” You said pushing open the door. “And don’t follow me” you said coldly, your back was turned to Peter so you couldn’t see his hurt face. Twirling the miniature trident in between your fingers as you started pacing away from the restaurant, you almost dropped it when it grew as tall as you. A smile creeped on your face as you walked towards the center of StoryBrooke.

Swinging your trident in a circle over your head waiting for everyone to wake up. “I know what this town needs” you said to yourself as you raised your arms over your face waiting for the sound of footsteps to approach you.

Emma woke up in a cold sweat as she looked around the room and found a bright rays of red lights coming from her window, shaking Hook awake he let out a grown. “What’s wrong?” He said sitting up and rubbing his eye.

“Look” Emma said pointing at the window.

“What the bloody hell” Hook said getting to his feet as Emma got out of bed and going to wake up Henry. As the three of them made their way towards the center of town where various other people were also making their way towards the strange red light.

Peter looked around outside worried because you were gone for a while. His head shot up at the bright red light and made his way towards it as he saw people walking ahead in their pajamas and slippers. The red light went as fast as it came and they were left in the dim sunlight that was coming in through the trees, a certain gray haired man caught Peter’s attention as he made his way to the man.

“My boy” Peter said under his breath as he quickened his pace as tears filled his eyes. “My boy is that you” Peter called out as Rumple turned around with a face filled with confusion and anger.More people started coming towards the three of you, Emma and Hook had the same look Rumple had.

“What are you doing here” Rumple said as he pushed a brown haired woman behind him and extended his arm in front of his body.

“Oh you must be Belle. I can hear your prayers” Peter said as he continued stepping forward”

“Why are you dressed like that? What do you mean you can hear my prayers” Belle said as she looked over Rumples shoulder.

“Well the thing that happened is that me an-” Peter started to say as he was interrupted by a loud voice that boomed through the street.

“Isn’t this sweet. And look everyone came to see the Brady bunch” You said as everyone turned to look at you, unsure if they should be defending themselves against you or Peter.

“What do you want” Emma said coming towards you with a fireball already forming in her hands. Rolling your eyes at her you waited till you heard footsteps growing louder.

“Please don’t. Don’t hurt her” Peter said stepping between you and Emma as he reached and grabbed Emma's forearms as she immediately dropped her arms and stumbled closer to Peter.

“What are you” Emma said looking up at Peter with tears in her eyes as flashes of her best memory and paradise flashed through her eyes. “Are you an actual angel?” Emma said as Peter nodded to her “And she’s the actual devil” Emma said as she looked over at you and again Peter winced as he nodded to her.

“It’s not like you could hurt me anyway” You said tilting your head to the side to try and look at Emma who couldn’t pry her eyes away from Peter. “What are you going to team up with Peter Pan the same man that made your lives sad and oh so hard” You said side stepping to look at everyone around.

“If that’s what we have to do because we have no idea what or who you are” Emma said stepping in front of Peter to face you.

“We’ll I’m Peters girlfriend and now it appears that I’m the devil.Isn’t that funny you would think that Peter would be the devil not me.” You said leaning against your trident as you gave Peter a dopey smile,people looked from you to Peter and then to Emma. Maybe the devil does have a soft spot.Emma made her way closer to you as her hands filled with fireballs once again.

“Emma Swan I want to introduce you to some of my friends” You said flashing Emma a smile as the fire in her hands lit up your face with eerie shadows. “It would just be sinful to keep them to myself” You said as seven people started coming towards you, as the other face light up with different ranges of emotions.

“This is your grandma Ruth” You said as a old woman walked up to them.

“Oh Belle I brought your ex-fiancee here to see you, he was just dying to see you again” you said as Gaston walked up to Belle.

“Regina I couldn’t pick just one for you so I brought you a treat. You remember Robin Hood and Daniel” you said as they both walked up to her and Regina stumbled back as Henry tried grabbing her as she looked pale.

“You guys remember Sheriff Graham don’t you” You said as Graham walked up.

“Why are you doing this” Emma said as she looked at all the familiar faces around her.

“Don’t worry Emma I didn’t forget about you. You remember Baelfire don’t you?” You said smiling at her as she dropped her arms next to her as she came face to face with Baelfire as she looked back at Henry and Rumple whose eyes were filled with joy and tears.

“Y/N you need to stop this” Peter said pushing Emma back as he stepped towards you.

“You really changed haven’t you” Felix said as he stepped next to you, Peter’s face ran white as he came face to face with his dead best friend.

“Have fun love. Oh and have fun in your reunions” You said to Peter blowing him a kiss as you disappeared.

“David it’s so nice to see you” Ruth said as she walked up to David and he walked up to her.

“David stop” Snow called out as she made her way towards him from behind but it was too late as Ruth gently laid a hand against David’s face. His face twisted as his stomach growled.

“Oh my poor boy they aren’t feeding you” Ruth said as she made food appear in front of David as he without a word dug in and stuffed his face as much as he could.

“David! David! What’s happening?” Snow placed her hands on his shoulders as she tried making David look at her.

“I can’t stop Snow” David said as as he grabbed a handful of a cake.

“Robin! Daniel!” Regina yelled as she pushed Henry away and made her way to the two men who were long gone from her life, grabbing them both in a hug they start whispering to her.

“Regina we can run away” Robin said to her. “Maybe you should do it later” Daniel said as he grabbed a strand of her hair, Regina’s legs felt heavy as her eyes started to shut.

“The seven deadly sins” Emma said as she spun around to look at the others as she backed up from Graham and Baelfire.

“Come on Emma come here” Graham said flashing Emma a smile. Without hesitation Emma started walking towards him, Snow turned to look at her and ran away from DAvid as she grabbed a discarded baseball bat and swung it against Grahams head. Graham with a cracked head turned to look at Snow as if nothing happened “Hello Mary Margaret” as soon as Graham looked away from Emma she snapped out of it she made a dagger appear and dug it into his back.

“Emma Swan that wasn’t very nice” Graham turned around as half of his face grew more and more distorted before he collapsed to the ground.

“We have to kill them!” Emma said as she started throwing weapons at people to help. Snow grabbed a sword and swung it at Ruth's head, instead of seeing her face fall to the ground she simply turned around as she reached over and touched Snow as she ran to dig in to the food alongside David.

“Only the people that they were brought here for can kill them” Snow yelled in between mouthfuls of food. Belle began jousting against Gaston “Come on Belle you can’t defeat me I’m the best there is” Gaston yelled in glee as he effortless swung his sword.

“Felix please don’t make me do this” Peter said as he backed away from Felix who grew angier each second.

“Do you mean don’t make you do this AGAIN” Felix yelled as he swung his sword trying to hit Peter. “Come on Pan just one hit” Felix yelled as he swung his sword over his head as it missed Peter’s head and instead cut off a chunk of Peters wing. A bloody piece of a white wing fell to the ground as Peter slumped down to the ground yelling out in pain. Lifting up his hand he pushed Felix as far as he could as he stumbled to get back up as he winced in pain.

Gaston swung his sword as it was about to make contact with Belle’s face he stopped mid air as Rumple held him still. “Do it Belle kill him” Rumple said as he struggled to contain Gaston still. Belle dug her sword into Gaston's stomach as she yelled out a cry of pain as she saw the blood run down the blade and into her hand.

Emma ran to Regina who was struggling to get off the ground as Robin and Daniel filled people with dangerous level of sloth and greed as havok started growing around them.

“Regina you have to get up” Emma said as she tried lifting Regina up off the ground.

“Mom please” Henry said as he helped Emma lift Regina off the ground.

“Regina I know you’re stronger than this” Emma said as she lifted Regina up and looked into her eyes. Regina gave her a weak smile as she pointed her hand towards Robin and Daniel as she blindly twisted one of their heads, hearing a body hit the floor Regina let out a cry as she tried scrambling to look which one had died. Seeing Daniels body on the floor as Robin continued to wreak havoc.

“I killed him again Emma” Regina clung to Emma and Henry as they tried calming her down.

“David you’re going to have to kill her” Snow said as tears streamed down her face as she continued to stuff her face with food. David looked around as many other of his friend where in the same position he was in, as he looked around he saw his mom make his way to Emma and Henry who were concoling Regina. Prying himself away from the table he grabbed a knife next to a turkey and made his way to help his family. His stomach continued to growl and it felt as if his organs were eating at each other, digging the knife into his mother’s thigh as she fell to the ground next to him. With tears in his eyes he shut them close and digged it into her heart as he cried over her body.

“Dad!” Emma shouted as he crawled over to David.

“Grandpa!” Henry said as he reached over to him as Regina shot her head up to see what had just happened.

“Felix stop I really don’t want to so this” Peter said pointing a discarded sword toward Felix as Felix kept walking forward him with a grin.

“Didn’t stop you before” Felix said as he swung at Peter again. Felix sword was about to make contact with his wings but before he could hack off another piece of Peters wings, Peter dug the sword into Felix stomach. As Felix’s body hit the ground Peter’s once snow white wings turned into an ashy gray. Making his way towards Emma he started feeling weird.

“We have to finish this. It won’t stop till all the sins are dead, all the people that have been infected are going to stay infected” Peter said as David was still doubled over in pain.

“Regina you have to kill Robin” Emma said to Regina as Regina's eyes filled with pain.

“I can’t Emma. I can’t lose him again” Regina pleated to Emma.

“That’s not Robin that’s not him” Emma said to Regina who looked as each word killed her inside.

“Emma I never took you the one for murder” Baelfire said from behind her as she spun her head around.

“Neal” Emma said as she got up and faced Neal face to face as she drew her weapon.

“Woah woah woah. No need for that I’m not here to hurt you” Neal said as he threw his hands up in surrender.

“What do you mean” Emma said as she didn't put her weapon down.

“The she devil brought me from where I was and told me I was now “Envy” and I had to pass it to everyone else. She said that every second we pass without infecting someone it was going to feel like we were internally burning” Neal truthfully said as everyone didn’t believe him. Regina slipped away from the group to kill Robin because she couldn’t let him go through that kind of pain.

“You and papa have to kill me Emma I don’t want to hurt anyone” Neal pleaded with her. As she thought it over Neal looked over at Henry who was trying to help David.

“Henry you’re so grown now” Neal said as he slipped away from Emma and crushed Henry in a tight hug.

“Let him go” Emma shouted as she turned to look at Henry and Neal.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I wished I was there to see you grow up.” Neal cried into Henry’s shoulder, Emma looked away from them as tears pricked her eyes.

Regina creeped up from behind Robin as she reached in to crush his heart, grabbing his heart in her hands Robin turned to look at her.

“I love you” Regina said through tears as Robin looked at his heart in her hands and let out a small smile.

“I love you too” He said as Regina crushed his heart in her hand as it fell to the ground in ashes.

Neal continued to cry into Henry’s shoulder as he kept telling him how much he missed him and how he was sorry this was the way they had to see each other. Rumple ran up to them alongside Belle as he crumpled to the ground next to Neal.

“My boy” Rumple cried out as he hugged Neal.

“Papa” Neal said as he hugged him back. “You have to kill me” He said as he grabbed Rumple by the shoulders.

“No I can’t I won’t let you go again” Rumple said as he shook his head.

“You have to everyone will suffer if you don’t” Neal said to him as they all tried to not cry in front of Neal.

“I’ll figure out a way. I’ll figure it all out” Rumple said as he refused to listen to what Neal was saying to him.

“Papa I’m already dead there’s no bringing me back” Neal said as he looked at Rumple then to Emma as he pleaded with his eyes for her to kill him. With shaky hands Emma dug her sword into Neals side, as blood ran down the wound she let out a cry as she fell to the grown next to him.

“Papa please take care of my boy for me” Neal said as he grabbed Rumples hands, placing a dagger in his hands and digging it into his body as Neal started falling limp.

Peter turned away from the sight as he started walking away from all the weeping.

“Y/N!! Come back here!” Peter yelled out as he waited for you to show up.

“Well well aren’t you guys real killers” you smiled as you looked at everyone who were once again mourning the death of their loved ones. “I gave them back to you and this is what you did? A real shame a town filled with killers”

“Stop it!” Peter said stepping closer to you, as you looked over him you let out a snark.

“Well well not so pure anymore are we” You said to Peter as you looked at his wings as you felt a pang in your heart as you saw his bloodied wing.

“I want the real you back” Peter said as he started pleading with you.

“If I turn back to good then you go back to being evil. Were still going to be the devil and an angel” You said as you stepped closer to him.

“But I like being good. Why can’t we both be good” Peter said as he reached over to grab at you.

“That’s not how it works angel face” You said as you stepped back from him. “You’ll go back to being the grim reaper” You said as Peter flinched at that name.

“I really do want to be good” Peter pulled you closer to him and kissed you. You could feel icy fire pour into your body as the evil and good transferred between the both of you. Peter pulled away from you as both of your costume disappeared and went back to your green and brown outfit and Peter went back to his. The old mischievous fire that always danced in Peters eyes was back once again and with a snap of his fingers both of you were back in Neverland.

“I’m so glad to have you back and to be back” Peter said as he planted a soft kiss on your lips.

“You know only a pure white angel can completely counter the devil” You said with a grin as for the first time since Peter had known you the similar fire danced in your eyes that danced in his. “Teach me some magic” You said as you laced your fingers with Peters.

“We’re going to raise hell”

[sincerely-miss-x-blog-blog]

Why the Immigration Issue is Actually a Racial Issue

It’s your average American Thanksgiving dinner, everyone gathers around the table to enjoy turkey, stuffing, and in-depth discussions about the value of human life. No, this isn’t a family of philosophers talking about moral theory; this is 2018, and the issue of immigration is at the forefront of our news, politics, and occasionally religion. Inevitably, it bleeds over into our daily conversations. But what do these conversations look like? Oftentimes, in my own conservative family, its laden with remarks about job-stealing and how we need to be working to support our own citizens first.

So I raise my first question. What group(s) come to mind during this discussion? Is it our large influx of Russian women coming to have their children in America, so their children can be American citizens? Perhaps is it the large Irish immigrant population in Boston? The reality is, you probably haven’t even heard of these immigrants. Why? Because they fit into the racial status of ‘white’. As explained by Ruth Frankenberg in her essay “Whiteness as an ‘Unmarked’ Cultural Category”, being white is the default assumption in our white dominated culture. Anything outside of ‘white’ is deemed as ‘otherness’ and often referred to as ‘cultural’. Those Boston immigrants are able to participate in what is known as the Great American Melting Pot, and can assimilate into the ideal “white” culture that has been dominating this country since its inception. This idea is also discussed in Frankenberg’s essay, when she states the whiteness as a cultural category only serves to mark everyone else’s differences from ‘the norm’. To understand why our perception of immigrant is a Mexican or South American and not someone of European origins, we have to look at who portrays the images of immigrants to us.

News sources are where a large part of the population get their information about what is happening, both at a local and a global level. News papers and other primarily written sources are falling out of favor, and are being replaced by TV, images, and videos of reporting. And these images often do not show the Russian women, all at the end stages of pregnancy, coming to America to guarantee their children’s citizenship.

Instead, images of worn immigrants traveling through dire conditions are shown. Our news sources focus specifically on these immigrants because of their race. It creates controversial and striking news that people want to consume and hear more about. Unfortunately in a white dominated society, it’s not of anyone particular interest to hear about more white people coming. It is hearing about the “brown people” coming from countries that have always been portrayed in our media as unstable and underdeveloped. Our citizens question the ability of immigrants to assimilate, and in what ways the country can benefit from them coming.

Sadly, it is not just our media that views this as a racial issue. Our lawmakers have worked hard to make it clear that they are targeting specific groups, and intentionally leaving others out. 

Initially, it looked like the United States would be a country that would offer a helping hand to those in need. This was seen through the implementation of the Refugee Act of 1980. However, as pointed out by David Haines in his essay, “Safe Haven In America?...”, America was not reaching out to help people seeking asylum, they were simply passively allowing those in who could be beneficial to the U.S. workforce. 

The Sensenbrenner bill was designed specifically to target Mexican and South American immigrants. It was not focused on immigrants from other racial and cultural backgrounds. This is because of specific regulations about border crossings and border security, and criminalizing those types of civil violations.  

Some may argue that the reason we focus so heavily on these immigrants is because they are a majority of who is coming into this country. However, that is not the case. However, a study done in 2014 shows that Hispanic immigrants make up only about 35% of the foreign born population. Asian immigrants are in the U.S. at close to double that rate, and there is not a system specifically designed to target that demographic. 

With all this data and understanding of how diverse our total immigration population is, how can we say that the way the media portrays this issue and how we understand it is not through a racially charged lens. The true issue is not that we have people who are wanting to become U.S. citizens or wanting that privilege for their children; it is that some of these groups do not fit neatly into our white dominated society.

Frankenberg, Ruth. “Whiteness as an ‘Unmarked’ Cultural Category.” The Meaning of Difference, 7th ed., McGraw-Hill Education, 2016, pp. 101-106.

Haines, David W. “Safe Haven In America? Thirty Years after the Refugee Act of 1980.” The Meaning of Difference, 7th ed., McGraw-Hill Education, 2016, pp. 395-398.

https://www.nbcnews.com/nightly-news/video/growing-number-of-russians-are-coming-to-the-u-s-to-give-birth-1133247555963 

https://www.nbcnews.com/news/us-news/birth-tourism-brings-russian-baby-boom-miami-n836121

https://www.google.com/search?rlz=1C1SQJL_enUS777US777&biw=1536&bih=754&ei=obkCXLH2CNX8jwTGiJLACw&q=drug+cartel+movies+&oq=drug+cartel+movies+&gs_l=psy-ab.3..35i39j0l9.791.1672..2119...0.0..0.212.656.5j0j1......0....1..gws-wiz.......0i71.4JEa3dSc71M

http://www.pewresearch.org/fact-tank/2015/03/09/u-s-immigrant-population-projected-to-rise-even-as-share-falls-among-hispanics-asians/

http://www.ncsl.org/research/immigration/summary-of-the-sensenbrenner-immigration-bill.aspx

[burkedeboer]

North to the Abyss

2 F, 1 M.

During the gold rush, a woman travels to the coastal Alaskan town from which her husband sent his last letter. She intends to track him down, but instead finds greater mystery in the nature of his disappearance.

A note on the text: though only her opening monologue is in verse, you may notice that all of Rachel’s dialogue is timed to iambic pentameter. She is the only character that does so, and should help to distinguish her class from the other characters.

This 10 Minute Play was written in spring of 2018. The full text is below the break.

At center stage - RACHEL VASSALL. A well-to-do young woman, educated in turn of the century universities. She reads from a letter.

RACHEL “My dearest Rachel, the light of my life, Our time apart has only just begun And already I long for my return. I remind myself of what’s to be had: How better we shall live with these riches, That is, should this journey north prove fruitful. Yet, though I am confident in myself As I now have arrived in Alaska And look to the next steps of my travels, I would that my feet could now beat southward.

Every night I spend in a lonely bed And awake beside an empty pillow Is another sunset and rise wasted. I know we shall be together quite soon - As soon as the springtime, I’ll come to you. And yet it is not nearly soon enough.

I curse what this world requires of us, That it should require us be apart. But we shall overcome this great distance, As distance only is measured on maps, And there’s no mortal measure for our love. I am yours eternal. All my love, Claude.”

This was the first letter from Alaska. He said he would write whenever he could. I have a letter too from Seattle, where he waited ashore all of one night, a night he spent writing his love to me. That was Claude’s way; he always kept his word. So how, I wonder, did it come to pass that this letter should also be his last?

(Exits)

(A post office in a coastal Alaskan town. The 20th century has barely just begun; this is the sort of town that barely knows it, and won’t catch up with new century for some time. It is minded by the lone clerk and postmaster, BILL SAYER, an older man who stands behind a desk. He groans loudly as RACHEL enters. She looks at him alarmed.)

SAYER Sorry, miss, sorry to growl at ya, it’s just my back. I got them floating kidneys, y’know. Makes the lower back hurt something fierce. I got a balm for it though. But that’s talk for the apothecary not the post office. What can I do for you?

RACHEL What does the name Claude Vassall mean to you?

SAYER Both a lot and not much. From the look about you, I’d say he means more to you.

RACHEL I’d certainly hope so - he’s my husband.

SAYER Is that so? Well. It’s nice to meet you. Though it could have been under nicer circumstances.

RACHEL What do you mean? I haven’t heard from him; not hide nor hair nor whisper since the fall. I’ve no idea or notion how he is.

SAYER Yes, that’s right.

RACHEL Excuse me?

SAYER I’m terribly, awfully sorry, Mrs. Vassall. I didn’t realize, I-... Well. Easiest way to put it is that I know as much as you. Or as little, as it were. Nobody else has seen him either, not in this town. Not on this realm.

RACHEL What do you mean by “realm?” When did he leave?

SAYER In the fall.

RACHEL When he arrived? I have his last letter. I’ve kept it by my heart these last few months.

SAYER I’m sorry. We tried to warn him against staking that claim.

RACHEL Yes-- his claim, on some island in your bay.

SAYER Not just some island. Abaddon Island. That’s what the Russians called it anyway, and we may have changed a lot with this territory but that’s one thing we kept our hands off of. It’s better that way.

RACHEL I’m afraid I don’t understand, Mister-...?

SAYER Oh, of course, where are my manners. Sayer, ma��am. Bill Sayer. I’m the postmaster here. When your husband came and dropped off the letter, I didn’t realize who he was or where he was going or I would have talked to him myself. Maybe I should have gone out of my way to find him afterwards. After I heard from Eliza - she’s the lady what runs the inn he stayed at, and I heard from her that he had the Abaddon claim. And he planned to stake it. Then he was gone.

RACHEL Please don’t say it like that, Mr. Sayer. “Gone,” it just sounds so terribly final.

SAYER I’m sorry Mrs. Vassall, I know he was your husband. But let me-- I’m sorry. There’s something you need to know.

RACHEL I only need to know where to find him.

SAYER No-- I-- Listen. If I may: The man that sold him that claim sold it to him in California.

RACHEL I recall; I did share a house with him.

SAYER I only bring it up because the man who sold it was some sort of swindler.

RACHEL Was he so ignoble? Was the claim false?

SAYER No, the claim was true.

RACHEL Then tell me how my husband was “swindled?”

SAYER It’s just a matter of the fact being that no one around here would sell or advise the sale-of the claim on Abaddon Island. It was first staked back in the day when all the claims around here were getting staked. The old boy who took it up never came back. Things were in such a boom in those days, the town was just starting to spring up, not even platted yet, people coming and going every which way and nobody thought much of anything when a year passed and the claim wasn’t renewed so it defaulted back to the office. They figured he must’ve just left town, like so many others. Sold it again. But this time it was sold to a man who staked the Klondike and the Fortymile and had had himself a whole bunch of success. And he had struck gold outside of town here again, and folks in town knew him, so when spring turned to summer and we hadn’t seen him a search party got rounded up. Then these Chugach came to town, they got some villages down the coast both ways, been here for longer than any white folks, this is their land and their culture. They come out to sell their wares. So the posse asked them about that island, if they had any advice. And they told those men the same thing I’m gonna tell you: stay away.

RACHEL Is there some Native folklore about it?

SAYER Yes ma’am. It’s a forbidden land, in their eyes. I guess way back when the Russians were here, fur trapping expeditions sent attachments there, and it’s the same story. Same story as what happened to the posse too. Same story way back a thousand years. It’s been told too many times and I hate to tell it again. This time about your poor husband. I’m just afraid that when it comes to Abaddon Island, that’s the only way the story gets told.

RACHEL Then how did the rights to such an island, home to only warnings and precautions, come to be in the Lower Forty-Eight? Traded from a swindler to my husband?

SAYER Couldn’t tell ya. Don’t know. After the rights expired for the second time, a man named Chuch Buckford bought it. By that time I was working here. But I wasn’t postmaster yet, or else I would’ve refused to sell it to him. He went on and on about how all of this was only superstition. About how he was a man of reason, and a positivist, and how he would prove to us that there was nothing to fear. He had some sort of plan about it, or so he said. And he said it a lot. But he never went. After Chuch, I don’t know exactly how it changed hands, other than through poker games and maybe barters of some other sort. The state of things came to be that if a man put up a gold claim as part of a bet, then his opponent would demand to read it over and make double sure it wasn’t The Island. Or, if the opponent was a fresh-faced greenhorn, then everyone else around the table would intervene on his behalf and inspect the claim themselves. See, that’s why I say when Mr. Vassall arrived so keen to take on Abaddon Island I knew for a fact that it had been sold to him elsewhere. Every year, through the years, a different face would come into the office and renew the claim before it expired. A different man, every year, with all sorts of plans and ideas about how to get in and get out. One boy said he was gonna just row out there at dawn and back before dusk each day. I don’t know if he did it. It carried on this way for some time.

RACHEL And so it did, ‘til my husband arrived.

SAYER Yes ma’am, so it did.

(Enter RUTH, carrying a hefty bag of postage.)

RUTH Good fuckin’ shit, Bill, they must be thawing out up north, look at this load of postage! Snowbanks still up past your tits though, but looks like them logging camps finally got their shit down here. Good Lord, I’ve packed bears out of the backcountry that were lighter than this. (She slams the bag down. Beat) Who is this, why’s she crying?

RACHEL Oh am I really? Please, I don’t mean to.

SAYER No, there’s no reason to be embarrassed. I apologize for my courier. Ruth.

RUTH Yes Bill?

SAYER I’d like you to meet Mrs. Vassall.

RUTH ...Vassall? That’s not--

SAYER That is.

RUTH Oh hon.

RACHEL There’s been plenty of pity for me now, I’d appreciate it if you spared it.

RUTH Well alright. So Bill gave you the low-down then?

RACHEL He did.

RUTH I’m sorry, Mrs. Vassall. We tried to warn him.

RACHEL And tried to warn me, but I’m undeterred. I intend to travel to your island, and I intend to see it for myself.

SAYER Ma’am-- Nobody’s seen The Island for theirselves and came back to talk about it.

RACHEL I understand.

SAYER Nobody knows what happened to your husband, specifically, but let me tell you, everyone knows the general notion.

RACHEL I cannot believe that unless I see.

RUTH I’d go after my fella if he pulled a similar stunt.

SAYER Ruth… Ma’am, please, have a good think about this idea. Even if it wasn’t Abaddon Island. No offense, but you seem very well educated.

RACHEL I fail to see how that could bring offense.

SAYER It’s just I’m inclined to think you might not have a whole lot of experience in the woods. In the woods, alone, tracking a man. Would I be right?

RACHEL Yes.

SAYER Just consider what this whole undertaking would mean for you.

RACHEL Of course I have already, before I left. I took a ship up from San Francisco; I would not have made this trip hastily, but only after a winter of thought.

RUTH What you’ll wanna do, if you’re gonna head on out there, is pick yourself up a hired gun here in town.

SAYER Don’t tell her that.

RUTH Well she needs some sort of somebody helping her out. And I don’t rightly know, could be you go get a trapper or a mountaineer or some sort of timber fella. Someone that knows the wilderness real well and how to survive in it.

SAYER Nobody knows what The Island holds.

RUTH See, that’s what I’m thinking. Which is why I think of all the burly young bucks wasting their time in our taverns that would be raring to go. Remember that night when Joey Stokes walked down main street with his cap and ball Colt and shot out all the street lights one by one? Sheriff didn’t even arrest him on account of the fact that he was so impressed with Joey popping bulbs from a count of sixty paces.

SAYER Don’t ask her to talk to Joey Stokes.

RUTH Why not? It’s a heroic hunt, I’m sure he’d jump at the invitation.

SAYER Yes he would. And I like Joey Stokes. What you’re suggesting is instead of Mrs. Vassall dying alone, that Joey goes and dies with her.

(Silence)

RACHEL I trust it’s not as dire as all that. If it so worries you, Mr. Sayer, then I resolve to leave on my lonesome. I did not come to our Final Frontier with intent to rob you of your neighbors.

SAYER Much obliged. Much as I can oblige it.

RACHEL But your advice, much as I value it, can not be followed to its last letter. I did not sail north to turn south at port. I only want my husband home and safe, or, failing that, have him home and buried. Whichever fate the good Lord wills it be.

RUTH One way or another you’ll meet again.

RACHEL Yes. And meet in this world; I will find him.

RUTH I believe you when you say it. I just don’t believe me when I think it. Maybe since it’s springtime it’ll be easier. I wish you luck, ma’am.

RACHEL And you as well.

(RUTH exits. SAYER sighs, produces a box from under the desk.)

SAYER You’re set on it then?

RACHEL Yes, Mr. Sayer, I am resolute. In both my decision and intentions.

SAYER (He produces a revolver from the box.) Now I know this isn’t much. It’s just the post office pistol, issued to us should we need to defend ourselves. It’s a Peacemaker. They call it the gun that won the west, and The Island is west of here, technically. Cartographically. It would ease my mind if you had some sort of protection. (He produces a box of ammunition, sets it next to the gun on the table.) Now, legally, I’m not allowed to give this to you. Unless I deputized you a post carrier, I suppose. Not sure I’m allowed to do that either. But what I can do is leave it on the table here and step into the back. And if it was gone by the time I came back, I wouldn’t have a clue who took it. My own fault. Doubt anyone from the government would come checking on it anyway.

RACHEL I appreciate the offer-

SAYER No, now this one I’m firm on. All right, that’s my ultimatum. Either don’t go or take the gun. And I am the postmaster, I carry words and my words carry. Now it was nice meeting you, Mrs. Vassall. You are a determined sort, and that is respectable.

RACHEL And nice to meet you too, Mr. Sayer.

SAYER I just gotta pop into the back real quick. Hope to see you around.

SAYER exits to the back. There is a long silence as RACHEL considers. She then takes the gun and the ammo. She exits.

[momtemplative]

The Long Game

A conversation about schools reopening:                               Part one (uno, un) of presumably many.

There was one year I celebrated the First Day Of School with such vigor and rebelliousness that the moment I got home from the double-drop-off, I stripped down to my undies and ate pesto from the jar, on the couch, like a crazy woman. 

Last year, the first day of school was delayed for four days because of construction and I had a full-on meltdown. Get these kids out of the house!!

Now, here we sit, atop an entirely different perspective. That Holiest of Days means nothing. 

Finish lines and dates-to-look-forward-to-with-certainty during this pandemic are as arbitrary as the outcome of a toddler game of pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey. I’ve been applying a lowered-gaze to these long, long days, a here-and-now approach to get us through to the finish line of school starting. Not thinking about the Long Game has been a survival tactic to avoid an onslaught of overwhelm and to allow more room for joy and sanity. (There are plenty of tough days that happen organically, without the pressure of trying to figure it all out.)

Back in March, I thought, (many of us thought), ok this is crazy, but they’ll surely get back to school in the fall. And what an epic celebration THAT First Day will be! 

Especially after this four+ month stint of no school, no sitters, no public places open (safely), no playdates or kid swaps, no summer camps or extracurriculars, and no travel! I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t holding up the First Day as a beacon of hope, grabbing at it like fruit for a starving soul that hangs way beyond my reach.

Up until last Wednesday, we could still speculate about school as some far-off agenda. Of course there was no way school could start up again as per usual, but I pushed that slippery little thought out of my mind every time it landed.

Now, heavy with reluctance, I am beginning to mourn the loss of the reality I was hoping for—to have Opal back in school and Ruth in preschool three full-days a week! (That was new, for the two years prior, she attended preschool for three half-days, which just barely covered my part-time work load.) The generous portions of un-scheduled time (that far surpass the needs of my job, which I will not be doing for the foreseeable future anyhow, since giving massage to elders with dementia and Alzheimers is such a dangerous gig right now) were joyfully staggering to think about. 

Once the facts came to light, hard and fast on the computer screen, it no longer worked to play dumb about what the fall might look like. They announced this week that BVSD (Boulder Valley School District) would be opening schools for two days a week, a “hybrid model,” starting one week late, end of August. Half the class will attend Tuesday and Wednesday, half will attend Thursday and Friday. On the not-in-person days, kids will do online schooling. (Kids can also opt out of this for fully online, at-home schooling.)

The kids will be required to wear masks and keep their distance. There will be partitions and well-spaced desks and lots of outside time. The precautions will be thorough and lengthy, but necessary.

Joseph G. Allens, assistant professor of exposure assessment science at Harvard says, “On prevention, we are seeing that in many hospitals, the number of infections of front-line doctors and nurses has dropped way down. Why? Strict controls are in place focusing on just three things: mask-wearing, hand-washing and air-cleaning.”

This is positive news for the kids who are old enough to be mindful and take precautions. Luckily, Opal is old enough to be developmentally capable of following all the rules, not only because that is who she is, but because she understands this is what needs to happen for the public’s health. Five years ago, she may have had good intentions, but would’ve been developmentally unable of doing what needed to be done. Five years from now, she may be nursing a rebellious phase—who knows. So, we rejoice at the fact that she is eddying in the safest spot—age and development-wise—that she possibly could. (Not to mention her motivator-of-wise-choices is far more ubiquitous and scary than simply aiming to be a ‘good girl.’)

Ruth, who is four and still taste things from the ground, is another story altogether. And to intensify that reality is that she’d be in a classroom of 11 other small-children-examples. When I imagine a birds-eye-view of her classroom, I see piles of children, not individual bodies, all heaped onto a particular play area like puppies on a teat. The personified opposite of social distancing. 

And because we have grandparents to think about, we have chosen to keep Ruth from the fray of preschool for the time being. (I acknowledge we are fortunate to have this choice.) This is devastating and confusing for her, she is longing for her friends and teachers, the world she cultivated for the prior two years, half her life. She still doesn’t understand why school stopped so abruptly, why she never got to say goodbye to her class, why she can’t see any of them now, except for on a screen. 

(Ruth sometimes refers to The Virus as almost a villain-character. She’ll be lying in bed and suddenly, disgustedly, shout, “THAT VIRUS IS SO RUDE!”)

For the last few days, I’ve been saturating myself in news articles about how schools plan to re-open next month and the safety of it all—for grandparents, for teachers, for us. I vacillate between, this will be weird but fine and yikes and wait, is this the best approach? 

There is a staggering amount to consider, and yet a minuscule amount of certain information out there. Almost every article I read about young kids and COVID—can they spread it??—is filed under the opinion section of the paper. Info feels sparse and mostly speculative. I don’t trust it. At least not on her grandparents’ lives. Schools in Europe reopened months ago, where is the research from that?

Brian P. Gill, senior fellow at Mathematica, (a nonpartisan public-policy research and analysis firm), had some optimistic things to say. He said, “When reopening schools, he’d most recommend a staggered start and to reduce the number of students in schools and classrooms. “We believe this can dramatically slow the spread of COVID-19—even if children are not especially good at wearing masks or maintaining physical distance.”

I really don’t know who or what to believe at this point. I find myself glomming on to the positive bits, sharing a hopeful thought or article with friends, accompanied by a prayer-hands emoji. Then I will read something that troubles me and I turn leaden and sink to the bottom of my mental well. I usually don’t share those articles. It cycles back and forth like this. 

But returning to the bricks-and-mortar plans for Opal’s upcoming school year:

I try to imagine what this will all look like. The rooms will be half-full of socially distanced little bodies, all looking like mini-surgeons in their masks and ranging in age and size and from approximately 5 to 10 years old. Opal is on the older end, and I imagine her classroom to look like theater—where everyone has an excessive personal bubble and the plastic partition creates a glare from every angle and warps the images on either side. Connections will have to be made in code, sideways, or way too loud to overcome the cloth curtains that cover mouths. I imagine the resurgence of note-passing, like when I was a kid and we’d fold them into little origami packages and pass them along to the desired recipient, hopefully out of the teacher’s gaze. But in this case, they’d need to be tossed rather than passed—the closest desk will be six feet away.

Will they be able to see the preposterousness in all of it? Will they be able to share a good laugh about it or will it all seem like dreadful torture? I’m sure perspectives will vacillate from one end of the spectrum to the other, the way they do now. 

I do solemnly wish that everyone enter the first day of school expecting nothing less than chaos and confusion, and because of that, they will offer each other more slack and kindness. This sucks equally for everyone, the whole dang village. There’s got to be some solace in that?

(And can I get a moment of silent mercy for all these teachers, even the grumpiest ones? I cannot fathom the ninja-brainwork required to hold all these pieces together. The effort is heroic.)

We would probably consider kiboshing the whole operation if it were to last any longer than two days. That’s plenty manageable. And Opal wants it so bad. The sense of purpose, of community, of life-beyond-the-walls-of-our-home. She told me she’s dying to see the eyes of all her friends, even above a mask, as long as it’s not on a screen! Preach.

I am well aware that this equation doesn’t help parents who are trying to get back to work, but, again, I appreciate what Brian P. Gill has to say about it:

“As parents ourselves, we would much prefer that our child’s school be open for a predictable two days a week than a highly unpredictable cycle of opening and closing. But more important than our own preferences are these facts: Unpredictably difficult experiences create more stress and more downstream health problems than predictably difficult experiences, even if the experience itself is equivalent in all other respects. And for children, more predictability yields better emotional health, a key predictor of life outcomes.”

SO here we are, bouncing around the map of this pandemic with, what often feels like, no real direction. At the entrance of yet another entirely foreign trail to blaze—with kids, with grandparents, woven into the threads of our decision making more than ever before in our previous lives.

We want to give our kids the moon, but for right now, maybe the best thing we can give them is predictability. 

Joseph Allen said it well, “I wish it was different. We can continue to push for things to get better — and maybe our government will course-correct. Until then, we must forge a path forward with the reality we have, not the one we want.”

[ericvick]

There's no place BUT home. Do you still like your place?

With schools, gyms, and nonessential workplaces shut down to slow the spread of the novel coronavirus, most of us have been spending a lot more quality time in and around our homes the past few weeks. They’ve become our full-time offices, our happy hour bars, our classrooms and playgrounds. Modest backyards are forced to fulfill our need for nature. Our kitchens are doing double or triple duty, playing host to three meals a day for everyone in the household.

And as with any intensifying relationship, the more time you spend in one another’s company, the more you may come to appreciate each other’s quirks… or grow irritated by them. We asked readers whether they’re happy with their homes and past design choices, perhaps grateful for a recent addition, or if confinement has them contemplating a major remodel or move in the near future.

“I’m still in love with my house, but have realized we have way too much stuff,’’ said Jen Osterhout, who blogs at EverydayOldHouse.com. “Toys we don’t use, clothes we don’t wear, unused kitchen gadgets and gizmos collecting dust, old magazines and paperwork lying around.’’ She’s eagerly awaiting the day donation centers reopen.

A more surprising realization, Osterhout added, is how much she loves her neighborhood north of Boston. She’s started developing friendships with neighbors who, before the outbreak, were really just acquaintances. “We smile and wave to each other, stop and talk from our backyards while practicing social distancing, text each other for much-needed support and comic relief,’’ Osterhout said. “This virus has brought our neighborhood together and solidified a sense of community that I believe will continue even after we return to our ‘normal’ lives.’’

As a result, Osterhout and her husband are now rethinking their plans — which had been to purchase a larger home farther outside the city in a few years to accommodate their growing family. “Perhaps undergoing the ‘dreaded’ addition process is worth the price of staying in our neighborhood,’’ she said.

Lexington resident Morra Aarons-Mele also professed a newfound appreciation for her location and community. “Our access to walking trails and nature has never been so valuable,’’ she said. Neighbors, meanwhile, have stayed connected by organizing social-distancing happy hours in a nearby cul-de-sac. And her backyard, where she tends to nine hens and a greenhouse, has provided a welcome refuge — plus a daily supply of fresh eggs.

So Aarons-Mele, who founded Women Online and hosts the Anxious Achiever podcast, has decided to stay put rather than move, and to remodel her mid-century home instead — which she said is in desperate need of an update. “We’d been looking at plans before but dragging our feet,’’ she said. “If I emerge from this with any money or business, a renovation has to happen, stat.’’

Some housebound homeowners aren’t waiting for the pros. Architect Leslie Saul and her husband are using this time to tackle smaller, long-delayed DIY projects and repairs around their Arlington home. “I’m enjoying my ‘new’ light in a guest bath that I should have installed when I bought [the fixture] five years ago,’’ Saul said. She also got around to installing an artsy door knob she discovered sitting in an old box in the basement.

Saul is also embracing her home’s spacious geography, following the morning sun from the dining room to an enclosed porch at midday, and then soaking up afternoon rays on the second floor. As she migrates through the house, she delights in the varied character of each space. “No all-white rooms for me,’’ she said. “I appreciate the change of vibe while I’m in solitary confinement.’’ She’s also second-guessing the idea of downsizing. “I thought that the house was too big for us as empty nesters, but boy, do I appreciate the extra space now!’’ she said.

With a much fuller nest, Ruth DiGiovanni of Taunton can relate. “Being home with a family of five made me realize how grateful I am for two full bathrooms,’’ DiGiovanni said. “It’s also made me realize how badly we need a bigger kitchen. There’s not enough room for three weeks of groceries.’’

Even before the pandemic struck, DiGiovanni and her husband had talked about expanding the kitchen. But their real long-term dream isn’t just a new and bigger kitchen — it’s a home near the ocean in Rhode Island. “We came to the conclusion that if we were to make that kind of investment, it would be better spent on a larger home with a larger yard,’’ she said.

A small kitchen, however, is still preferable to none at all — particularly when you’re stuck at home 24/7.

Danvers homeowners Mike and Holly Irgens had been planning a major remodel of their 1877 Colonial ever since they bought the place eight years ago. In December, their contractor poured the foundation for an addition that would create a larger living room, new bathroom, and deck. The plan was to start the addition first and then break through the exterior wall to connect the new space to the kitchen — which was also slated for a complete overhaul. “It was March 10th when they broke through and demoed our kitchen,’’ Holly said. “And of course, that was the week … everything changed.’’

They had anticipated the challenge of living without a kitchen for a couple of months; they hadn’t planned on being at home 100 percent of that time. “My parents live 10 minutes away, so the plan was to spend a lot of time over there, to have dinner with them or do takeout some nights at our house,’’ Mike said. “[But] we didn’t want to put my parents at any risk.’’

While it means a good portion of their house is totally off-limits, the Irgens are grateful their contractor, Chet Dembowski & Son, has gone through great lengths to continue construction with social distancing precautions in place. When Governor Charlie Baker announced the closure of nonessential businesses on March 23, Holly said Dembowski scrambled to secure the blueboard and other supplies he would need to finish the project.

Mike, who works in human resources at Massachusetts General Hospital, said they consider themselves lucky given everything else going on in the world. But working and schooling from home without a functional kitchen and with tools whirring loudly in the background certainly amplifies the usual stay-at-home inconveniences. Holly, who owns a marketing firm and cofounded Dorchester Brewing Co., has taken to working in the bathroom, where she can sit down at the vanity in relative quiet. “I did actually take a Zoom call, just with my partners at the brewery,’’ she said. “They were like: ‘Where are you? Are you in the bathroom?’’’

Screen-time rules for their two children have gone out the window, Mike added. And aside from home-cooked meals his parents deliver a few times a week, dinners often consist of prepackaged foods they can microwave in their chaotic dining room home base. While they usually try to feed their kids organic foods and plenty of vegetables, Mike said, “Now it’s like, ‘Who wants some Chef Boyardee?’ ’’

Ironically, Mike said, when everything is over — once the pandemic threat has lifted and the home renovation they’ve been planning for so many years is finally complete — his dream is simply to get out of the house. “We’ll have a brand-new kitchen, but I just want to get a baby sitter for the kids and go out to dinner.’’

Jon Gorey blogs about homes at HouseandHammer.com. Send comments to jongorey@gmail.com. Follow him on Twitter at @jongorey. Subscribe to our free real estate newsletter at pages.email.bostonglobe.com/AddressSignUp.

[eksbdan-blog]

New Post has been published on https://passingbynehushtan.com/2020/02/11/when-i-survey-the-wondrous-nace/

When I Survey the Wondrous Nace, part 1: A Prophetic Think Tank

 When I Survey the Wondrous Nace?

You know that old hymn When I survey the Wondrous Cross? Its a standard. It almost represents the Church itself. It’s comfortable and peaceful, like a sit by the fire in an old pair of slippers. Like going home and getting a hug from your mother. The words are also true, that before peace, when you think about the Cross and know what its all about, you get hammered by a Truth, resulting in an essential disconnect from the world and its cares, setting them only on what really matters.

But I take that back. Not when you survey the Cross. The real Cross when surveyed, the symbol of the Church everyone, is only like the song because they both are about a wondrous thing that is also a device of execution for the least deserving Person imaginable. What is a truly wondrous Cross is the only thing you can think about which can take you out of here, the Nace, which is alone wondrous, and alone is capable of setting our sights on our true home where wonders come. The Nace is essentially the historical object of the Cross but turned to a sharply foreign, non-contingent, spiritual and miraculous aspect of view that you will never get by the motivations of pedestrian or historical church culture.

The Cross. That symbol of torture and death.  The altar on which was the Messiah immolated, died and atoned for sin. That innocent and simple shape comprised of one horizontal and one vertical beam, which provokes such revulsion and such reverence. On this site, the insignia of Christianity speaking of its power to divide the human race into those aligned toward a love of spiritual truth and those who only horizontally oriented to the world. 

Only one problem if we love the truth and want to raise a banner for the faith of the Messiah accurately: nix the horizontal beam, leaving only a bare pole.  The word “cross” is not in the Greek New Testament, but “pole” is, leaving us to wonder what the traditional shape of the cross has really stood for all these centuries. Not the shape of a piece of wood, the shape of the real Christian faith motivation.

It is very well known. I am not by any means serving up some new revelation here. And that is what makes it all the more damning of us. Nothing is standing in our way of knowing the answers to the most profound questions of the ages. Our problem is we prefer half-truths because the whole thing is just too much to bear.

Superficial Survey

The word translated “cross” in the Greek is stauros. In every Greek lexicon stauros means, as in Liddell and Scott’s Greek-English Lexicon: 

“Wood cut and ready for use, firewood, timber, etc. . . . piece of wood, log, beam, post . . . cudgel, club . . . stake on which criminals were impaled . . . of live wood, tree.”1

In Acts 5:30 and 10:39, it states that on a tree was hung Jesus. The word “tree” in Greek denotes a simple upright post, as in Strong’s Greek Dictionary:

3586. xulon xulon xoo’-lon

from another form of the base of 3582; timber (as fuel or material); by implication, a stick, club or tree or other wooden article or substance:–staff, stocks, tree, wood.

This word xulon is put for staves or spears, as in:

And while he yet spake, lo, Judas, one of the twelve, came, and with him a great multitude with swords and staves, from the chief priests and elders of the people. (Matthew 26:47 KJV)2

It turns out that there were four basic types of crosses that the Romans used to carry out crucifixion.

The Crux Simplex: a single, upright piece of wood.

The Crux Decussata, or St. Andrew’s cross. This was in the shape of an X and was used extensively in Britain by the Romans during their conquests.

The Crux Commissa, or St. Anthony’s cross. This was a capital T shape, without the beam overhead.

The Crux Immissa, or Latin cross, or traditional t shape. 

It is interesting to read all the objections raised to the notion of Jesus having been crucified on the simple upright stake, or stauros, of which the New Testament speaks. Some maintain that the “sign King of the Jews” could not have been affixed over the head of any type of post other than that of the Immissa. These arguments almost invariably fail to mention the crux simplex as one of the four possibilities. Others say that it would be impossible for a man to survive more than 6 hours nailed to a plain upright post, with both hands nailed together overhead and both feet nailed together below. Yet, I have never read a medical analysis, credible or otherwise, supporting this claim.

Denominational Survey

Interestingly, the traditional cross shape is not described graphically or scripturally by the church much before the time of Constantine, who officially adopted it as the symbol of the new state religion. Historical data is overflowing which details the Roman and Eastern Church’s adoption of pagan thinking and practices leading up to Constantine’s time, which were used quite effectively to bring into the church scores of polytheists by making Christianity less alien to them. Crosses were certainly used in at least two prominent pagan religions at that time.

Although Protestants agree wholeheartedly about the pagan influences that came into the church, they do not even want to consider that the cross might be one of them. It seems that the traditional cross has become such a focus of reverence over the years it’s just not open to discussion, rational or otherwise.

The Jehovah’s Witnesses have claimed for years that the Crux Simplex was the instrument of crucifixion. But don’t blame me because those wacky folks believe this as well. I am not wrong because I happen to agree with one thing with the J.W.’s. As the saying goes, even a stopped clock is right once a day? They have so many anti-biblical doctrines how difficult would it be for them to get one thing right?

Although they never take up the question seriously unless in the oblique, neither the J.W.’s nor the mainstream church has it right about why one type of cross or another best serves the Christian message. What is clear is that one type of cross is not wrong simply because it might be pagan and another wrong simply because it’s not traditional.

Interrogative Survey

OK, then, what does make one type of cross wrong and another right in the most profound and consequential way we can think of?

First, we can use the fact that, beyond trivial historical research, commending to wisdom instead of only extra-biblical historical data, an option does not honestly present itself for Christianity to adopt symbols of their faith based on evidence gleaned primarily from sources other than the text of the bible. One can understand the Catholic apologetic for the Immissa since Catholicism does not use the bible as their sole rule for faith and practice. Their wild doctrines don’t need any biblical backup, as Catholic tradition, they say, has equal authority. The Catholic Church has had its reward. The J.W.’s too since it’s not the bible that is their rule of faith, but gratuitous iconoclasm. But what about all these “protestants” who are supposed to be fiercely Word-centered?  If the symbol for their faith is the Latin cross, it makes one wonder what they were, or are, really protesting.

You might say, “hey, what real difference does it mean whether or not the shape of the cross is accurately represented. It’s just a symbol. The heart of Christianity is its root of truth, not its branches of mere outward expressions in symbolism.” I quite agree. It does not matter a brass farthing whether the cross looked like an Immissa or a Simplex. How is a symbol going to hurt anyone? Except, of course, if there is something biblically profitable to be learned from a plain, upright stake as opposed to an upright cross. Except if the absence of an operational symbol for the essential nature of righteous faith in the Messiah, and atonement through it, is more biblical than the use of any symbol. I think in our time the bible is certainly prophetic about the absence of that symbol in our form of Christianity.

What makes one cross wrong and another right is not its traditional or pagan appearance, but whether or not the substance of that cross as a reason for righteous faith in the Messiah that the church professes is 1st century-traditional or pagan.

Prophetic Survey

Let us first consider the fact that the word “cross” is used to convey a double meaning: one, the actual piece of wood and, two, the atonement of Christ. This is a great expression of the dual streams of scriptural revelation and dual streams of meaning that any symbol is made to convey.

The “p’shat”, as the ancient Rabbi’s called it, was the meaning of a biblical text that presented itself without need for deep meditation. In Ruth, the scene where Ruth obeyed Boaz’s command to dip her bread in the sour wine was simply that: dipping the doughnut in the coffee is a way to get the pleasant taste of your meal and drink in one bite. It makes the meal more interesting, more pleasant. I have also heard that in the case of the Jews this was an invitation to Ruth by Boaz feel welcome and at home, to sit down and enjoy the meal instead of feeling like a starving outsider who is scrambling to gather some leftovers from underneath the masters table.

But the rabbi’s also recognized a “remez” in scripture. This was the meaning under the surface text.

The Midrash Ruth Rabbah states that these verses really mean something prophetic about the coming Messiah: 

“‘Come this way’, refers to King Messiah, ‘Eat from the bread’, means the bread of royalty, and ‘dip your morsel in the sour wine’, refers to the sufferings of the Messiah, as it is written, ‘but he was wounded for our transgressions, bruised for our iniquities.”3

Also:

“It will be with the last deliverer,(the Messiah), as with the first (Moses); as the first deliverer revealed himself first to the Israelites and then withdrew, so also will the last deliverer reveal himself to the Israelites and then withdraw for a while.“4

Please go to the next page…

The bible is a book of stories and exhortations which have all sorts of social, historical and moral import. We can read it like a newspaper or a self-help book and glean great expressions of love, great reasons for justice and peace, great reasons to live a clean life free of the filth and degradation of the world, resulting in greater happiness in this world and a model for spiritual life in another. We can run an honest political campaign on the lessons found there. We can use it as a basis of civil law. We can use it to guide us in knowing how to treat our spouse and children. We can certainly use it to get a good idea of how God expects us to behave if we are His children.

But, most importantly, the bible is a book of prophecy. It exists to certify God’s righteousness in His faithfulness to promise and precisely fulfill. It demonstrates His sovereignty over all time and space, and discredits the claims of other “gods.” It exists to activate and maintain a certain quality of faith propelled by a love for spiritual truth. In this sense, it can’t do a thing for the world, the flesh and the devices of men to benefit them because those things have a limited life span. It works indirectly only as for secondary benefit for societies and individuals to build a world that is at peace and at least tolerant of evangelism, but a primary benefit, a “remez”, to prove the existence and nature of God for those who look at the world primarily as an evidential means to righteously believing in Him, not an end in itself.

The idea of the cross as a dual meaning is one of a simple shape of wood and a theological idea and belief. Jesus hung on a piece of wood with a vertical and horizontal beam and Jesus made atonement. But is this as far as we can understand the cross as a p’shat and a remez, going on without a nagging conscience about the shape of a true cross or the nature of real theology? Or, is both the whole modern plain and theological and understanding of the cross a p’shat awaiting a real remez?

Which is a superior translation of stauros: cross or pole? If we are stubbornly Word-centered, as we should be, we start by looking at the words equivalent in Hebrew. That word that most closely matches stauros is nace. Not only in definition but most importantly in spiritual meaning. Hold on, because this will get very disturbing for those who act like the shape of the cross, its p’shat, is more important to the Christian faith than its remez.

Nace in Hebrew, or נֵס, according to Strong’s Hebrew Lexicon, is: 

a flag; also a sail; by implication, a flagstaff; generally a signal; figuratively, a token:–banner, pole, sail, (en-)sign, standard.

Another word form is:

 nacac (naw-sas) – to gleam from afar, i.e., to be conspicuous as a signal (the idea of a flag as fluttering in the wind); to raise a beacon; lift up as an ensign

The word carries three primary meanings:

A pole, staff, or flagstaff.

The banner raised upon a pole.

A sign, particularly a miraculous, prophetic sign, as we will see, particularly that of the Messiah.

In accord with # 3, nace means “something lifted up.” It means exaltation. Let’s go through the OT and see how the word and meaning are used in a few typical instances when what is lifted up is the prophetic of God’s word. Ultimately, we are asking something like “how is God lifted up.” Then, we are asking, “is this the reason and way we lift Him up today?”  

When used to signify a pole

And the LORD said unto Moses, Make thee a fiery serpent, and set it upon a pole (נֵס): and it shall come to pass, that every one that is bitten, when he looketh upon it, shall live. And Moses made a serpent of brass, and put it upon a pole (on), and it came to pass, that if a serpent had bitten any man, when he beheld the serpent of brass, he lived. (Numbers 21:8-9 KJV)

When used to signify the banner 

How long shall I see the standard (נֵס), [and] hear the sound of the trumpet? For my people [is] foolish, they have not known me; they [are] sottish children, and they have none understanding: they [are] wise to do evil, but to do good they have no knowledge. (Jeremiah 4:21-22 KJV)

Thou hast given a banner (נֵס) to them that fear thee, that it may be displayed because of the truth. Selah. (Psalms 60:4 KJV)

And he will lift up an ensign (נֵס) to the nations from far, and will hiss unto them from the end of the earth: and, behold, they shall come with speed swiftly: (Isaiah 5:26 KJ

When used to signify a prophetic sign, particularly the sign of the Messiah

 And the earth opened her mouth, and swallowed them up together with Korah, when that company died, what time the fire devoured two hundred and fifty men: and they became a sign (נֵס). (Numbers 26:10 KJV)

And in that day there shall be a root of Jesse, which shall stand for an ensign (נֵס) of the people; to it shall the Gentiles seek: and his rest shall be glorious.  (Isaiah 11:10 KJV) 

And he shall set up an ensign (נֵס) for the nations, and shall assemble the outcasts of Israel, and gather together the dispersed of Judah from the four corners of the earth.  (Isaiah 11:12 KJV)

And he shall pass over to his strong hold for fear, and his princes shall be afraid of the ensign (נֵס), saith the LORD, whose fire [is] in Zion, and his furnace in Jerusalem.  (Isaiah 31:9 KJV)

Thus saith the Lord GOD, Behold, I will lift up mine hand to the Gentiles, and set up my standard (נֵס) to the people: and they shall bring thy sons in [their] arms, and thy daughters shall be carried upon [their] shoulders.  (Isaiah 49:22 KJV)

Go through, go through the gates; prepare ye the way of the people; cast up, cast up the highway; gather out the stones; lift up a standard (נֵס) for the people. Behold, the LORD hath proclaimed unto the end of the world, Say ye to the daughter of Zion, Behold, thy salvation cometh; behold, his reward [is] with him, and his work before him.  And they shall call them, The holy people, The redeemed of the LORD: and thou shalt be called, Sought out, A city not forsaken. (Isaiah 62:10-12 KJV)

The word that the LORD spake against Babylon [and] against the land of the Chaldeans by Jeremiah the prophet. Declare ye among the nations, and publish, and set up a standard (נֵס); publish, [and] conceal not: say, Babylon is taken, Bel is confounded, Merodach is broken in pieces; her idols are confounded, her images are broken in pieces. For out of the north there cometh up a nation against her, which shall make her land desolate, and none shall dwell therein: they shall remove, they shall depart, both man and beast. In those days, and in that time, saith the LORD, the children of Israel shall come, they and the children of Judah together, going and weeping: they shall go, and seek the LORD their God. (Jeremiah 50:1-4 KJV)

You can see that if we were to settle on one definition for nace, it would certainly be a prophetic sign. We must also remember that a prophetic sign is not only a prophetic promise but the actual person or event which fulfilled it. The person who speaks in the Bible is put as the equivalent of what he speaks and believes, particularly as a means of certifying that person morally. We do the same thing today when we say “he is a person of His word,” “a man is only as good as his word.” A person’s word is a moral sign. The Messiah is also a sign and the ultimate sign at that! He is prophesied, and his person appearing among men is a fulfillment of the promise, the Word of God. Jesus was Himself called a sign (miracle, sign, token, wonder). Giving one of many examples from the New Testament:

For mine eyes have seen thy salvation, Which thou hast prepared before the face of all people; A light to lighten the Gentiles, and the glory of thy people Israel. And Joseph and his mother marvelled at those things which were spoken of him. And Simeon blessed them, and said unto Mary his mother, Behold, this [child] is set for the fall and rising again of many in Israel; and for a sign which shall be spoken against; (Luke 2:30-34 KJV)

In Jeremiah 4:21-22, you might think that only a flag or banner is indicated, but it’s not. Go back a moment, and we see this:

Then said I, Ah, Lord GOD! surely thou hast greatly deceived this people and Jerusalem, saying, Ye shall have peace; whereas the sword reacheth unto the soul. (Jeremiah 4:10 KJV)

Please go to the next page…

What is the sword that reaches into the soul? The flag is a signal that the prophecy of the Babylonian invasion is underway, and that God’s word is in the process of fulfillment. They don’t want to see the signal because their lives or way of life are set for destruction as God said would happen. In fact, the people of Jerusalem even go so far as to say that God has deceived them for promising peace and giving, or allowing, destruction. They forgot that God promised them that their foot would slide (Deu 32:35, Due 18:18-19) and that all this would come upon them because of their unbelief in his word. Their concern is only for their flesh and the world, and if God does not for any reason give it to them and maintain it, then he has deceived them. In short, the flag and the sound of the trumpet that the people do not want to hear is prophecy itself, and therefore God. This is the reason for their destruction.

In Numbers 26:10, the kind of people under destruction is typified by Korah and his gang. Here, nace is used exclusively for a prophetic sign of those unbelievers whom God said he would destroy.

In Psalms 60:4, what does the banner stand for? “Thou hast made the earth to tremble; thou hast broken it: heal the breaches thereof; for it shaketh. Thou hast shewed thy people hard things: thou hast made us to drink the wine of astonishment. Thou hast given a banner (on) to them that fear thee, that it may be displayed because of the truth.  Selah” (Psalms 60:2-4 KJV). I think this is obvious.

In Isaiah 5:26, are we talking only about a flag, or a person?

Isaiah 11 contains one of the greatest messianic prophecies. It’s clear here that the ensign is Jesus Messiah

In Isaiah 31:9, the ensign that the people will fear is a person.

Isaiah 49:22 has a Standard lifted up to the people. Who or what is it?

Jeremiah 50:2. We have “standard” the parallel of “publish.” The standard that will be displayed is a declaration that God’s prophecy of the destruction of Babylon is headed toward fulfillment.

In Isaiah 62:10-12, the standard is indisputably messianic prophecy: “lift up a standard for the people. Behold, the LORD hath proclaimed unto the end of the world, Say ye to the daughter of Zion, Behold, thy salvation cometh; behold, his reward [is] with him, and his work before him.” But it does not stop there. Who is this Messiah? What is his name? The word for salvation here is none other than a variation on the name Yeshua, or Jesus. Reading this part again, we have: Behold, thy Yeshua cometh; behold, his reward [is] with him, and his work before him.

Survey of Christ

All three meanings come through clearly in Numbers 21:8-9, where Moses lifts up the brass serpent on the Nace. The brass serpent is, of course, a symbol for Satan, sin, and judgment. But this is also a prophecy of the Messiah hung on the cross. It’s a very difficult problem. Most say something like “the Messiah, in the guise of sin, would be lifted up on the pole, and whoever looked upon Him in faith would be not be struck by the serpent and the penalty of sin.” One thing we know for sure, Moses is lifting up a prophetic sign for the people. But I saved this for last because these verses if properly and honestly read, would cause an earthquake to the popular forms and fashions of bible exposition over the previous 1800 years. We are not reading deep enough:

There was a man of the Pharisees, named Nicodemus, a ruler of the Jews: The same came to Jesus by night, and said unto him, Rabbi, we know that thou art a teacher come from God: for no man can do these miracles that thou doest, except God be with him. Jesus answered and said unto him, Verily, verily, I say unto thee, Except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God.  Nicodemus saith unto him, How can a man be born when he is old? can he enter the second time into his mother’s womb, and be born? Jesus answered, Verily, verily, I say unto thee, Except a man be born of water and [of] the Spirit, he cannot enter into the kingdom of God. That which is born of the flesh is flesh; and that which is born of the Spirit is spirit. Marvel not that I said unto thee, Ye must be born again.  The wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it cometh, and whither it goeth: so is every one that is born of the Spirit. Nicodemus answered and said unto him, How can these things be? Jesus answered and said unto him, Art thou a master of Israel, and knowest not these things? Verily, verily, I say unto thee, We speak that we do know, and testify that we have seen; and ye receive not our witness. If I have told you earthly things, and ye believe not, how shall ye believe, if I tell you [of] heavenly things? And no man hath ascended up to heaven, but he that came down from heaven, [even] the Son of man which is in heaven. And as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, even so must the Son of man be lifted up: That whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have eternal life. For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life. For God sent not his Son into the world to condemn the world; but that the world through him might be saved. He that believeth on him is not condemned: but he that believeth not is condemned already, because he hath not believed in the name of the only begotten Son of God. And this is the condemnation, that light is come into the world, and men loved darkness rather than light, because their deeds were evil. For every one that doeth evil hateth the light, neither cometh to the light, lest his deeds should be reproved.  But he that doeth truth cometh to the light, that his deeds may be made manifest, that they are wrought in God. (John 3:1-21 KJV, emphasis mine)

There is a huge amount of information here, but take the italics as words begging for a particular definition as a consequence of the real subject under discussion.

First, let’s remember what Jesus did and said that prompted Nicodemus to approach him.

Then answered the Jews and said unto him, What sign shewest thou unto us, seeing that thou doest these things? Jesus answered and said unto them, Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up. Then said the Jews, Forty and six years was this temple in building, and wilt thou rear it up in three days? But he spake of the temple of his body. When therefore he was risen from the dead, his disciples remembered that he had said this unto them; and they believed the scripture, and the word which Jesus had said. Now when he was in Jerusalem at the passover, in the feast [day], many believed in his name, when they saw the miracles which he did. But Jesus did not commit himself unto them, because he knew all [men], And needed not that any should testify of man: for he knew what was in man. (John 2:18-25 KJV)

Notice the oracular emphasis here. Jesus speaks of a prophecy uttered by the prophets about the crucifixion of the Messiah and gives prophecy himself, saying that his disciples will believe the “scriptures,” the Old Testament testimony about him, after he rises from the dead.  It goes on to say that many believed in his name because of the miracles he performed, but Jesus knew that they are motivated by the show and not the scriptures and did not commit himself to them. This is also the story of Nicodemus and Jesus’ problem with his faith.

I also contend that the appellation Son of Man, from the astounding vision of Daniel 7:13-14, is a symbolic reference to the messianic oracles themselves. Jesus was running the money changers out of the temple. The Jews wanted to know by what authority he was doing these things. If he were Messiah, he would have the right to do what he wanted with his own house. They asked him for a sign, and Jesus gave them one. But Jesus did not give them some flashy miracle. Jesus steadfastly refused to put on a supernatural show for the Pharisees, because expressly because a miracle can be believed for itself without any incorrigible prophetic associations, but messianic prophecy cant, which promises the miracles and is a miracle when its fulfilled. The miracle is the fulfillment of the prophecy, a dependency, and if you don’t know the scriptures, then you will not feel responsible for fundamental spiritual motivation.  It is a belief from and then through the fulfilled prophetic signs that save. He gave them the sign of the temple, which stood for His body. He gave them the sign of the resurrection: They would destroy his body, but in two days, he will rise from the dead. All of this is well established in prophetic scriptures. If they cared about the prophetic signs, they should have known that the Messiah would die by murder, killed by piercing and that his soul would be through this an offering for sin (Isaiah 53, Psalms 22). They should have known that God would not leave His Holy One to see corruption (Psalms 16:10).

The Jews, of course, thought He was talking about the literal temple. They are spiritually blind to the prophetic word of God, both in its letter and importance. So was Nicodemus.

Nicodemus was impressed and motivated by Jesus’s healing power. However, Nicodemus did not even think water into wine at Cana and the other miracles certified Jesus as Messiah, evidenced in the phrase “we know that thou art a teacher come from God: for no man can do these miracles that thou doest, except God be with him.“ The wonders also were not regarded by Nicodemus as prophetic signs of the Messiah. Otherwise, he would not have merely called him a teacher sent by God. And this is from religious leadership! Jesus’ response was that Nicodemus had to be born again to enter the promised Kingdom of God. Nicodemus, just as the unbelieving Jews in the temple, still thought He was speaking only in naturalistic terms and wondered how he could re-enter his mother’s womb.

Now, indeed, being born again refers to a miraculous spiritual rebirth through faith, transforming one in spirit as a little child. But, perhaps, more importantly, are we not also talking here about people going back and starting over in the way they were looking at scripture through the phenomenon of its present fulfillments by Jesus? Going back to a faith built exclusively on a trust that God is faithful in promising and keeping His promises, of which Jesus was the ultimate example? Faith through the signs of scripture?

Jesus rebukes Nicodemus’s unbelief by effectively telling him that he should be ashamed to call himself a religious leader in Israel and did not know or believe in messianic prophecy: Art thou a master of Israel, and knowest not these things? Verily, verily, I say unto thee, We speak that we do know, and testify that we have seen, and ye receive not our witness. If I have told you earthly things, and ye believe not, how shall ye believe, if I tell you [of] heavenly things? The “earthly things’ refer to Jesus speaking of the literal temple and physical birth. The “heavenly things” refer to something about spiritual things gleaned through knowledge (We speak that we do know) and direct experience (and testify that we have seen). Therefore, “heavenly things” are the proofs of Jesus Messiah through the Word confirmed and fulfilled through His miraculous signs, just as the Temple is a sign of the prophesied Messiah.  Jesus is not complaining that Nicodemus or the Jews did not believe that he would build the temple in three days or that one could physically be born again. That would be foolish. He was complaining that these people would not take his miracles and words as pointers to the wonders of fulfilled prophecy in scripture and that his death and resurrection were among them.

Please go to the next page…

If you think I am way off base here, consider Jesus’s next astounding statement: And as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, even so must the Son of man be lifted up. Jesus is again speaking in two senses of lifting up: One, what must lifted and, two, why. What is that part of the nace which is the Messiah, whose sacrifice will atone for sins.

Why it/He should lifted up is that part of the nace upon which supports and displays the What part of the Nace. Why is because of the faithfulness of God’s promises to man, expressed through the prophecies. Yes, Jesus Messiah is set up high as a banner upon the pole of the oracles of God. This is the only pole upon which he can be lifted to be Messiah among the people, to faith, and this is the only reason, the only nace, upon which God accepts faith in Messiah to be supported. The light which Jesus speaks, and from which the unbelievers flee, is the light of the p’shat of scripture and Jesus Himself.

When I survey the Wondrous Nace.

We all know that old song “When I Survey the Wondrous Cross.”

When I survey the wondrous cross On which the Prince of glory died, My richest gain I count but loss, And pour contempt on all my pride.

Exactly. I share these feelings. Big Time. I became dead to the world and the world to me. But you will never get that when you survey the Cross, only a Cross which is a Nace.

What Christ died on and for is not a piece of wood. Not upon anything you can think of that is natural to the world or natural to human sensibilities, intellect and priority. It’s not anything upon which you can divine divinity in which your view of the divine is controlled or created by you. Vertical but meant to be applied horizontally to your spirit. A burden and the only source of illumination that we can put our hands on. It lifts up Christ for the world to see and believe or it’s a specially designed tool of debasement, disrespect, rejection, revulsion, apathy, and ignorance applied to Him. A real Cross is as infinitely a transgression against Transcendence as it a means of infinite forgiveness. For one, nothing, or a whip, or a bludgeon, or a mock laugh, and to the other a reason to live and to die. The Nace is the Revelation of Jesus of Nazareth, Messiah, fulfilled by him and foretold by the prophets. And, yes, it really is a wonder far beyond a hug from your mother.

How would Bible exposition change with the insistence that Messianic prophecy is the only single legitimate reason for faith in Christ and the only ordained content of evangelism?  Upon what scriptural axiom or basis will be the next reformation, the only possible reformation? What is Christianity all about, really?

If there is to be a real reformation, it will not only be by the What of scripture, its p’shat.  Not feelings of sorrow for a man in pain. Not the guilt that one feels that Jesus had to go through so much so that we could live. It’s not a deep commitment to accepting the precepts and moral code of religion. It’s not the personal benefits of riches in heaven or the personal benefits of a prayer object or a belief object. It’s not decisions based upon hunches and feelings about the truth of Christ in the face of an onslaught of all kinds of good reasons not to believe. It’s not “by grace through faith alone” or any other pious theological idol that one can believe fervently in, yet such belief can’t substantially benefit one spiritually. It is not through things about Christianity that show up in any other religion, and therefore not through things upon which a common, unrighteous faith can find nourishment.

It’s the Why of scripture, the remez. The Immissa cross is not an object of faith because it’s too complicated: there is one added horizontal beam that should not be there. It should be a simplex. It should be a nace. It should be messianic prophecy alone as the only path to truth, and the only path to which Truth can reach the heart of those who love the truth and want more of it.

Not that the Immissa cross has no meaning at all. It’s is full of meaning:

“I have declared the former things from the beginning; and they went forth out of my mouth, and I shewed them; I did [them] suddenly, and they came to pass. Because I knew that thou [art] obstinate, and thy neck [is] an iron sinew, and thy brow brass;  I have even from the beginning declared [it] to thee; before it came to pass I shewed [it] thee: lest thou shouldest say, Mine idol hath done them, and my graven image, and my molten image, hath commanded them. Thou hast heard, see all this; and will not ye declare [it]? I have shewed thee new things from this time, even hidden things, and thou didst not know them. They are created now, and not from the beginning; even before the day when thou heardest them not; lest thou shouldest say, Behold, I knew them. Yea, thou heardest not; yea, thou knewest not; yea, from that time [that] thine ear was not opened: for I knew that thou wouldest deal very treacherously, and wast called a transgressor from the womb.” (Isaiah 48:3-8 KJV)

It symbolizes the hard-heartedness of man.

Well, it really doesn’t matter what the real shape of the Cross was. The only thing that matters is what the wood that Christ was lifted up on ultimately means.

It’s like the ten commandments monument controversy in Alabama. This battle over only a symbol has itself come to symbolize, even among the combatants, the essential disagreements that Christianity has with the world: one group wants the monument to stay because it represents Christian values. Another wants it to go because it represents Christian values. The substance of Christian values, not the symbol, is that God has proven to Man that Jesus of Nazareth is the divine Messiah through the prophecies and is the preeminent reason for righteous faith in Him and the preeminent reason by which God would accept his faith to salvation, has been lost to those who place symbols above it.

When You Survey the Wondrous Nace?

When I survey the Wondrous Cross? Take up a survey of that which has the first purpose not of proving your own fitness for heaven, but to prove the only way that God’s morally exists to faith. Only then can you say that you surveyed the Wondrous Cross and know God, not just some song.

Here is the next article in this series: The Meaning of the Cross and the Lord’s Prayer, part 2: Passing by Nehushtan

What is the Word of God?: Passing by Nehushtan

An Analysis of the Brazen Serpent Imagery: Passing by Nehushtan

Oxford, 1968, pp. 1191, 1192 ↩

https://www.bibletools.org/index.cfm/fuseaction/Lexicon.show/ID/G3586/xulon.htm ↩

https://www.amazon.com/Servant-Jehovah-Sufferings-Messiah-Should ↩

https://www.amazon.com/Moses-Fourth-Gospel-T-Glasson ↩

[whtaft]

1-99 you're doing it too this time

I know I deserve this. But. 

1: 6 of the songs you listen to most?

Sugar Boats by Modest Mouse

These Days by Nico

Sleepyhead by Passion Pit

Sleeping Lessons by The Shins

Up from Below by Edward Sharpe & the Magnetic Zeroes

2: If you could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be?

My ~ one true love ~ or Ruth Bader Ginsberg

3: Grab the book nearest to you, turn to page 23, give me line 17.

“When you fill a page, try drafting that section, because writing out your ideas can improve your thinking at every stage of your project.” This is what I get for having the Chicago Manuel of Style out.

4: What do you think about most?

How worried I am about getting a job

5: What does your latest text message from someone else say?

Oh god this is weird without context: “The strange thing is that she somehow thinks that some cat lady's crafts belong in a museum. What makes them significant?”

6: Do you sleep with or without clothes on?

With, but not a lot of them

7: What’s your strangest talent?

I have double jointed thumbs

8: Girls… (finish the sentence); Boys… (finish the sentence)

Girls are all amazing

Boys need to work harder

9: Ever had a poem or song written about you?

I... don’t believe so? My high school crush once told me that I’m “not the sort of girl people write songs about” which was great for my self-esteem

10: When is the last time you played the air guitar?

I genuinely don’t know

11: Do you have any strange phobias?

YUP

12: Ever stuck a foreign object up your nose?

NOPE, IT’S ONE OF MY PHOBIAS

13: What’s your religion?

Judaism

14: If you are outside, what are you most likely doing?

Walking my dog

15: Do you prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it?

Behind

16: Simple but extremely complex. Favorite band?

The Shins

17: What was the last lie you told?

That I was feeling okay

18: Do you believe in karma?

Not really

19: What does your URL mean?

William Howard Taft

20: What is your greatest weakness; your greatest strength?

Weakness: I’m very sensitive

Strength: I’m a good writer

21: Who is your celebrity crush?

Right now? Travis McElroy

22: Have you ever gone skinny dipping?

Nope

23: How do you vent your anger?

I cry and write something shitty on Tumblr about it

24: Do you have a collection of anything?

Tsum tsum!

25: Do you prefer talking on the phone or video chatting online?

Video chatting

26: Are you happy with the person you’ve become?

Yes and no; overall, I’m more okay than not okay

27: What’s a sound you hate; sound you love?

Hate the sound of my upstairs neighbors clomping around; love the sound of Monty’s tail whacking something as it wags

28: What’s your biggest “what if”?

What if I went to a different college where I was happier

29: Do you believe in ghosts? How about aliens?

Yes and yes

30: Stick your right arm out; what do you touch first? Do the same with your left arm.

Right: pillow

Left: PUPPY DOG

31: Smell the air. What do you smell?

I can’t smell anything because allergies

32: What’s the worst place you have ever been to?

@stevebarnacles​‘ blog

Just kidding

This very creepy bed and breakfast in Ohio

33: Choose: East Coast or West Coast?

East Coast because I’ve never been to West

34: Most attractive singer of your opposite gender?

I don’t like that I’m this way, but Marcus Mumford

35: To you, what is the meaning of life?

Dogs

36: Define Art.

Do you like it? Then it’s art.

37: Do you believe in luck?

Ehhh sort of

38: What’s the weather like right now?

Getting colder

39: What time is it?

9:03

40: Do you drive? If so, have you ever crashed?

Yes and no

41: What was the last book you read?

Don’t call me out like this

42: Do you like the smell of gasoline?

No???

43: Do you have any nicknames?

Unless you count whtaft or mambo, then no

44: What was the last film you saw?

Labyrinth!

45: What’s the worst injury you’ve ever had?

My ear drums rupture every couple years and it’s awful

46: Have you ever caught a butterfly?

Yes, the scary mother fuckers

47: Do you have any obsessions right now?

TAZ and MBMBAM

48: What’s your sexual orientation?

Bi

49: Ever had a rumour spread about you?

Ofc

50: Do you believe in magic?

Yes, to an extent

51: Do you tend to hold grudges against people who have done you wrong?

Y U P

52: What is your astrological sign?

Capricorn

53: Do you save money or spend it?

Spend

54: What’s the last thing you purchased?

A movie ticket to see Labyrinth

55: Love or lust?

Love

56: In a relationship?

In my dreams

57: How many relationships have you had?

Classified

58: Can you touch your nose with your tongue?

No

59: Where were you yesterday?

Home and the movie theater

60: Is there anything pink within 10 feet of you?

I am sitting on a blanket that has pink on it

61: Are you wearing socks right now?

Hell no

62: What’s your favourite animal?

MONTY

63: What is your secret weapon to get someone to like you?

... Is this a thing that people have? Because I don’t have any

64: Where is your best friend?

Canada

65: Give me your top 5 favourite blogs on Tumblr.

@biblionerd07

@hakunahistata

@stevebarnacles

@relenafanel

@n0tdrunk

66: What is your heritage?

Eastern European Jewish/German Catholic

67: What were you doing last night at 12AM?

Just falling asleep

68: What do you think is Satan’s last name?

He doesn’t have one

69: Be honest. Ever gotten yourself off?

Um. Yes. Why is this phrased this way? It’d be a lot better if it asked if I’d gotten myself off today, which is also yes.

70: Are you the kind of friend you would want to have as a friend?

No

71: You are walking down the street on your way to work. There is a dog drowning in the canal on the side of the street. Your boss has told you if you are late one more time you get fired. What do you do?

Get the dog, bring him to the office, and take care of him there until your boss gets annoyed but doesn’t fire you

72: You are at the doctor’s office and she has just informed you that you have approximately one month to live. a) Do you tell anyone/everyone you are going to die? b) What do you do with your remaining days? c) Would you be afraid?

TELL EVERYONE

Go to Disney World

FUCK YEAH

73: You can only have one of these things; trust or love.

Love

74: What’s a song that always makes you happy when you hear it?

Hot Patootie from Rocky Horror

75: What are the last four digits in your cell phone number?

Classified

76: In your opinion, what makes a great relationship?

Ummm I’ve never been in one, so I’m not an expert, but I think you gotta be on the same level

77: How can I win your heart?

Like, just be nice to me and I’ll probably fall in love with you

78: Can insanity bring on more creativity?

No, and it’s a dangerous myth to propagate

79: What is the single best decision you have made in your life so far?

Getting Monty

80: What size shoes do you wear?

6-7

81: What would you want to be written on your tombstone?

Probably just my name; I don’t really know of anything else that I want to carry with me like that

82: What is your favourite word?

Monty

83: Give me the first thing that comes to mind when you hear the word; heart.

Monty

84: What is a saying you say a lot?

Fuck a duck

85: What’s the last song you listened to?

Sugar Boats by Modest Mouse

86: Basic question; what’s your favourite colour/colours?

Dark green/black/maroon

87: What is your current desktop picture?

It’s of Sora, Pooh, Piglet and Tigger from Kingdom Hearts

88: If you could press a button and make anyone in the world instantaneously explode, who would it be?

The Cheeto 

89: What would be a question you’d be afraid to tell the truth on?

Who my crush is

90: One night you wake up because you heard a noise. You turn on the light to find that you are surrounded by MUMMIES. The mummies aren’t really doing anything, they’re just standing around your bed. What do you do?

I’d probably just die, let’s be real

91: You accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what’s even cooler is that they endow you with the super-power of your choice! What is that power?

Teleportation

92: You can re-live any point of time in your life. The time-span can only be a half-hour, though. What half-hour of your past would you like to experience again?

I’d like to go back to when I met Sebastian Stan again and wear something different this time

93: You can erase any horrible experience from your past. What will it be?

The night where I almost committed suicide

94: You have the opportunity to sleep with the music-celebrity of your choice. Who would it be?

Yo-Yo Ma

95: You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere. You have to depart right now. Where are you gonna go?

I’m gonna go to NYC to visit @hakunahistata

96: Do you have any relatives in jail?

Yes

97: Have you ever thrown up in the car?

I can’t remember an instance but I was also a baby, so maybe then

98: Ever been on a plane?

Yup

99: If the whole world were listening to you right now, what would you say?

CHILL THE FUCK OUT

[spotlightsaga]

Kevin Cage of @spotlightsaga reviews... GLOW (S01E08) Maybe It's All the Disco Airdate: June 23, 2017 Ratings: @netflix Original/Privatized Ratings Score: 9.75/10 TVTime/FB/Twitter/Tumblr/Path: @SpotlightSaga **********SPOILERS BELOW********** I don't like to start reviews or articles at the end of an episode and backtrack... And if we did that here it would start everything on such a dark tone, which would make it extremely hard to recover. One of our biggest priorities is to match what we write in these articles to the emotion that is evoked from the screen. 'GLOW's 'Maybe It's All the Disco' literally bounces through a myriad of emotions, each one felt with an incredible intensity. We just got through the last episode literally fawning over the writing of Rachel Shukert, even nominating her work as a writer for our end of the year Spotlight Saga Awards that we'll be polling across TV Time and other social media outlets (obviously TV Timers' votes will weigh the heaviest 💯)... But here we are again, just one episode later, doing the exact same type of fawning over 'GLOW's 8th episodic entry, not only with Award Worthy writing by Nick Jones, who made our list last year with OITNB S4E07 'People Persons', but also powerhouse, natural director Sian Heder, who literally captures everything that Jones has written and is able to find the perfect way to funnel each emotional bullet-point from scene to scene... Leaving the audience feeling the exact way that Ruth must feel as the credits role. It's brilliant. It's 'GLOW' showing that it's only going to continue to get better & better... And for that, Nick Jones is the first writer to make back to back yearly SS nominations for Achievement in Writing and Sian Heder gets her first Achievement in Direction nom from us, directly after an episode of 'GLOW' that we didn't think could be topped. Tanya Sterling, don't think we've forgotten about you. You're editing here was a marvel. As far as 30-Minute 'dramadies' this year, 'GLOW' and FX's 'Baskets' are taking the cake. Each series has done phenomenal work capturing as much of these characters and their growth, both in life's often tricky timeline and existentially... As well as giving us solid story arcs to sink our teeth into, all in such a short period of time & low number of episodes. See, Big 4 Networks, you don't need 22-25 episodes to make such a monstrous impact! Netflix and FX are literally schooling those fools! The camaraderie of these women is really taking center stage. At first it was like a hodgepodge of diverse misfits, none of which complimented the other in any way. Now, here they are breaking Sheila the She-Wolf (Gayle Rankin) out of her shell by celebrating the birthday that Sheila never wanted to celebrate in the first place. All of this is spearheaded by Jenny aka Fortune Cookie (Ellen Wong), who nabs a huge chunk of the episode's spotlight by taking us through her family's past in Cambodia 🇰🇭, and showing us exactly why she's so desperate to hang on to any part of American Culture that she can, having been deprived of things like birthday parties herself. It all suddenly makes sense, and it was so heartwarming to see just how much Sheila has warmed up to Ruth (Alison Brie), even looking to her for a 'way out' and clutching to her for dear life at the beginning of their amazing scene in the roller rink. Sheila has been so 'stone-faced' and comically dry, that seeing the women ban together and make her feel important, putting a smile on her face, even getting her on roller skates and participating with everyone was one of my favorite scenes of the series so far. Rankin is very close to clinching a piece of my heart forever as Sheila in this series. Obviously, not all is peachy and smiles & skates. Rhonda (Kate Nash) and Sam (Marc Maron) are on the fritz. Sam is embarrassed that their relationship has gone public and in true Sam Sylvia fashion, he treats her like shit after a friendly conversation about Bond films... One that goes a little awry when 'A View to Kill' & the pigeon double take in 'Moonraker' come up. Sam even makes her wait outside so they don't walk in together, even tho all of them are already very much in the know that they are screwing. The cherry on top is when Sam then scolds her for coming in late. He plans on breaking up with her, and goes out venue shopping with Ruth when Bash (Chris Lowell) goes MIA, for reasons only Carmen (Britney Young) knows at the time... Leave it to Cherry Bang (Sydelle Noel) to pull it out of her, though. Should be interesting to see just how she uses this newfound information in the very near future. As Ruth tags along with Sam, while he venue shops with the likes of a space owner played by Brooke Hogan (yes, the infamous daughter of Hulk Hogan and star of the VH1 show that you probably don't remember), Rhonda is doing exactly what her character Brittanica would do... Think things through. This gives her the home court advantage and she breaks up with him upon his return to the hotel. Sam is left stunned & ironically vulnerable as she breaks it off while he's completely nude, dropping the bombshell that she DID actually like him. Upon hearing this news Sam attempts to salvage the relationship, but Rhonda is ahead of him... And she's right. Sam doesn't like Rhonda, not the way she deserves to be liked & loved, anyway. His sudden change of heart is brought on by the terrifying idea of infinite loneliness, so shouting out that he had 'period sex' with her, in an attempt to prove some sort of love or loyalty, simply won't cut it. The great part about seeing all this asshole-ish behavior from Sam through most of the episode? It doesn't last. Sam IS an asshole, don't get me wrong, but that doesn't mean he's a completely unlikable one. One of the biggest 'drama bombs' of the season is dropped when Ruth discovers she's pregnant after literally setting up a chemistry set in her bathroom just to find out, positive or negative. It's a gut-wrenching moment, an impossible one. We've seen Ruth slowly mend things with her former best friend and main event opponent, Debbie (Betty Gilpin)... As we have also seen Debbie patching things up with Mark (Rich Sommer), sort-of anyway, at least making something we could refer to as progress throughout this episode. Imagine destroying all of that and more by adding the extra slap in the face that not only has Ruth slept with Debbie's husband, she's also now carrying his baby. Just as Ruth accompanied Sam on his venue hunt, Sam accompanies Ruth on a mission so distressing & so polarizing among the human race that we can only look at Sam in a different light. Ruth is terrified, but very sure... She's having an abortion. Sam adds some much needed levity to the situation and improvises as Ruth's husband at the abortion clinic. In turn, Ruth faces her traumatic experience and swivels back & gives Sam a 'Zoya The Destroya' line as she heads to the procedural area... "In Soviet Union, abortion is the only thing there is no line for." Her fading smile, sad doe eyes, & nervous laughter provides one of the most poignant & affective scenes in the entire series. She heads back, lays down, assures the doctors, assures herself, and fades into the blue-skied nothingness painted onto a single tile of the clinic's grid, dropped ceiling.

[poketin]

@ellieofmidnight i was listening to tenacious d throughout the entirety of writing this

enjoy being old enough to drink and vape in the land of burgerbeachland, usa

also hint = clue (the game)

“Ian!”

The guy in question turned in his crappy seat on the crappy school lunch benches to stare at his musical friend, who was jogging towards him with a suspiciously large grin on his chiseled jaw.

Not as chiseled as Paul, the jaw god, but close enough. Maybe. If jaw classifications were baseball leagues, Paul would definitely be in the major leagues. Hard to beat Babe Ruth at jaw chiseling.

Ian blinked. Something about Luke really got him rambling, it seemed.

“What?” He declared irritably, stabbing at his plate with a strange utensil one could only describe as a sporkife.“I was in the middle of important pasta matters.”

Unfortunately, Luke hadn’t heard his half-sarcasm as he had only then removed his blasting headphones and hung them rather stylishly off his neck. Ian cocked his head as he caught some snippets of the song before Luke switched everything off.

Something about squeezing and saying please…?

Ian raised an eyebrow, taking careful note of the action so he could keep it suspended for the appropriate amount of time for skepticism and intrigue. Possible music shaming would have commenced had Luke not plopped down next to him and immediately shoved a question into his ears.

“Forget the awful and boring school food,” Luke purred as he snaked an arm around Ian’s shoulder. “How about we go back to my place? I’ve got board games.”

Ian leaned back so Luke could get the full blast of his neutral expression. Unfazed, that’s how he rolled.

“Is that some kind of euphemism?”

Ian had to duck to avoid the spray of musician spit from the hat wearing funkman as he blew a derisive raspberry.

“I thought moose lived in Alaska or something, not in the gutter.” He boomed out a laugh at his dumb joke before continuing. “I have loads of cool stuff, like Hint.” Luke wiggled his eyebrows. “You like Hint, don’t you Ian?”

Ian grumbled but his growing smile betrayed him. “I like Hint.”

“You like those thinky games, the ones where you have to sleuth stuff. The moose of intrigue, they should call you.” Luke’s eyes lit up and Ian forced down the urge to headbutt him and run. “They should call you...Iantriguing.”

Ian frothed at the mouth, his allergies to horrible wordplay threatening to dissolve his insides like acid. His suppressed sarcasm was becoming a poison, one that melted the crap out of everything he loved, but he endured, lest he turn that poison on the things he loved in the outside world.

He’d let acid destroy him from the inside out as long as Luke’s smile could be preserved, loathe as he was to admit it.

“You know, I’m killing myself for you.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Do you have Good Rodents?”

Luke yanked his hat over his eyes jokingly, nearly stumbling into a wall as Ian watched on. “No one has that horrifying nightmarefest except for you, my friend.”

“It’s a complete masterpiece. Sorry you doubt its glory.”

“That’s not even a board game.” Luke swatted at Ian with his trusty hat. “Let’s just hurry to my dorm, okay? Before I have to sit through your weird gaming experiences.”

A pause.

“That was an invite to invite me to your dorm so I can totally sit through your weird gaming experiences. Please.”

Ian waved a hand.

“We’ll see.”

Ian stood in front of Luke’s dorm door as the latter unlocked his door.

Luke threw open his door with a flourish and a bow, jumping back in fear as it banged against the door stop with such a force that it slammed shut again from the rebound force. His bravado and enthusiasm were doused as he fished out his key again, blushing and apologizing to a few people who poked their heads out in the hall, angry at the loud noise.

Ian smiled as he was ushered inside, happiness flooding his senses for no discernible reason. He turned towards Luke to see a similar expression on his face, albeit with more obvious adoration.

“There’s something stuck in your teeth, Luke.”

Luke’s smile fell for but a moment before it returned. He held his arms bashfully behind his back as he shimmied in place. His specialty shimmy. This couldn’t be good, thought the intelligent and beautiful mooseman.

“Do you think...you could get it out for me?”

Ian dug through that sentence before Luke had even finished, taking the words “get” and “out” and putting them into action as he speed walked to the other end of the room.

“Wait!” After attempting to parkour off the wall, Luke, covered in dirt, scratches, and bad decisions, skidded to a halt in front of Ian. “Okay, okay, no team exercises. Let’s just get to investigating alright?”

He reached below his bed and pulled out Hint’s box. Unfortunately, a silver fish had been on the top and Luke dropped it like a stone, the box exploding open and the contents falling every which way.

They both sighed and began picking everything up, Luke throwing a piece at Ian.

A fatal mistake that soon turned into more piece flinging.

The chosen sport of true champions.

“This is kind of a mess of a first date, isn’t it?” Luke said as rolled the only remaining dice left.

“Don’t worry, everyone and everything’s a mess all the time. Messes can be great.”

“A motivational speaker, you ain’t.”

“Shut up and guess the murder weapon, before it turns into this game board. With the victim being you.”

Luke fell back dramatically. “The horror!” He threw an arm in the air as he bent backwards like a gymnast. Like someone who grinds at 4 am.“It was Ian, in the dorm with the game board.” He sat back up and pulled down the shirt that had began to creep up his stomach, giving someone who may have been watching an excellent view.

“Coincidentally, that may or may not be the title of my next hit single.”

Ian hurriedly switched his attention back to the game. “Be sure to pay me 70/30 of the profits then. You can’t use my likeness without paying me royally.”

“It’s worth it.”

Ian swallowed hard at his sincerity and leaned against Luke’s shoulder. “Let me see your

“Double detectives!” Luke placed a well-coordinated smooch on Ian’s lips before jumping up and sweeping up the board and all its pieces in his arms. “Watch this—!”

With a shout, he threw the bundle of game against his bedroom wall with muscles practically bursting forth with effort, the pieces smacking against the cheap drywall and flying all over the room. The cards fell into an anticlimactic pile as the board hit the wall and frisbeed right to Ian, the sharp rotating deathtrap cutting off a snippet or two of hair before falling onto the floor with a loud slap.

Ian stared at this mess of pieces and cards and simply gently fell backwards onto the hardwood.

A snort escaped him before he could stop it and he covered his face with his hands. He closed his eyes and curled into a ball, laughing into his knees at the absurdity of it all with tears pricking at his eyes.

He heard helpless laughter and heard a dull thump as Luke fell onto the floor beside him. Ian dared to raise his face to wipe away his tears of mirth, stealing a glance at the ball of sunshine beside him.

Luke’s face was flushed pink and his eyes were screwed tight as his mouth froze in choked laughter.

Ian would only admit it after 12 cups of coffee, about the point where he forgot the meaning of the word filter, but it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

[tabernacleheart]

Pop-culture images of Easter surround me: wicker baskets, dyed eggs, super-cute children, bunnies galore (both varieties: stuffed and chocolate), and pastel everything. I started researching something else and ended up following a link to read the history of marshmallow Peeps! It is easy to get caught up in the illusion. I think this reflects our all-too-human desire to focus on what is easy, comfortable, traditional, known. Often our Easter worship follows this same path, speeding along a direct highway from the “Alleluia!” of Palm Sunday to the “He is risen!” of Easter without risking the dodgy neighborhoods or Holy Week’s harrowing curves and valleys. As much as I delight in the jubilant squeals of my nephews and niece scampering around the lawn looking for colored eggs, this is not where Easter hope is born. Indeed, crucifixion is all around us. Terrorist attacks and grave environmental degradation continue around the globe. White supremacists march, and thousands die in seemingly daily mass shootings in the USA. The #MeToo movement reveals the pervasiveness of sexual harassment, abuse, and rape in our culture. The indigenous, people of color, LGBTQIA+, and women continue to experience oppression and marginalization. And the poor continue to suffer on our periphery. We cannot deny the reality of crucifixion in our world. How can we celebrate Easter in light of all the needless suffering? I propose that we can celebrate resurrection only in light of the crucifixion—that this is the only Easter observance, an observance in full view of the cross, that means anything. How then shall we live this resurrection in meaningful ways? There once was a world where church held a place of honor in society, and all we had to do was open our doors, provide faithful worship, and wait for (or maybe attract) people to come. But that world no longer is the one in which we live. We can look at this change as a problem or an opportunity. Regardless of the volume or velocity of change, the God of Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Sarah, Rachel, and Ruth is the God who has been active in our past and will be active in our future. As Peter L. Steinke declares in his book, A Door Set Open: 'I believe the paradigm shift of rapid change constitutes a rich opportunity for the church. God has set the door open to the future. God’s future arrives in the person of Jesus Christ.' Albert Einstein remarked that imagination is more important than knowledge, for while knowledge points to what is, imagination points to what will be. My congregation, Norton Heights, sometimes struggles to discern God’s preferred future for us. Our church is in a beautiful, historic, diverse neighborhood in northeast Kansas City, Missouri, that is plagued by poverty and violence. One of our members, Leon Berg, had been living downtown, but he recently moved back into the area, just blocks from the church. This helped him see the neighborhood through the eyes of its residents, rather than as a commuter. Last year Kansas City suffered a record 149 homicides, several in the Norton Heights/Northeast vicinity. Instead of experiencing them as detached numbers on a computer screen or in a newscast, Leon experienced them as the neighborhood does—hearing gunshots and sirens, double-checking locks on doors and windows, dreading the news. Leon began to imagine what the congregation’s response might be. Many of those murdered had no funeral or memorial service. How could the Norton Heights Congregation stand with the neighborhood to Pursue Peace on Earth and the Worth of All Persons? As he thought and prayed, he received a response. The words, “Remember them,” came forcefully to mind, accompanied by an image of a field of white crosses. Leon shared his hope with the congregation, and we agreed to go where we felt Christ was calling us—further into the neighborhood to stand in solidarity in grief over the violence and death in our midst and in hope for a day when people will live to their potential, and peace will reign. Hope is a funny thing. It invites us to act in ways that are concrete and adventurous. Shared hope can get people past “we can’t.” We decided to hold an outdoor sunset vigil for the slain. The congregation bought wood and cut, constructed, painted, and planted 136 crosses with 136 names (the number of murders for the year in Kansas City at the time). Everyone participated, from the Tuesday-night neighborhood youth group to the Thursday-night spirituality group to a special Sunday hands-on worship service that included information gathering; silent prayer for the victims, perpetrators, and their families; poetry composition; and cross-painting as worship elements. We also walked the neighborhood, explaining and inviting—a cold day filled with images of locked doors, barred windows, broken sidewalks, conversations with youth hanging around steps, and children of all colors and ethnicities peeking at us from behind legs as we knocked on doors and talked to parents and grandparents. As we walked the neighborhood, talking with neighbors and local businesses, I found myself thinking a lot about what it means to be Easter people in a Good Friday world—this particular Good Friday neighborhood and my responsibility to be a disciple for these families and children in the face of the likely future of poverty and violence they face. God’s preferred future looks very different. As Peruvian theologian and Dominican priest, Father Gustavo Gutiérrez reminds us, resurrection hope isn’t synonymous with sitting around and waiting for something good to happen. It implies concrete effort in daily life to generate reasons for that hope. “Hope is a gift, but you don’t receive that gift if you’re not creating resources for it,” he says. “Reasons for hope don’t just drop from the sky. They come from below, from what people are doing or not doing.” While the neighborhood responded positively, the reactions from church members outside the congregation were mixed. We received encouragement, but also questions and criticism. How will sticking 136 crosses in the ground advance Christ’s mission? How will anything be different the day after the vigil? These are reasonable questions. All we know is that scripture writers from Isaiah to Matthew assure us God is powerfully present precisely when people feel helpless and bereft, and God rejoices in each faithful step taken. Jesus lived among the downtrodden and disenfranchised, so it seemed to us that this might be the right place for us as disciples as well. Our action was not transactional. We did not expect to “get” anything from it. We simply responded the best we knew how, in faith. As Walter Brueggemann reminds us, in a broken world, hope and lament are partners. Peter Steinke, again from A Door Set Open, uses the well-known story of the elephant and the blind seekers. Each one touches a different part of the animal and assumes something completely different about what the entire elephant must be like. Mission, says Steinke, is like that. No congregation has to cover every part of the elephant. Touch whatever aspect of mission is within reach. Touch the mission where it appears. Norton Heights touched the mission where it appeared, and the vacant lot next door was transformed into a place where the real lives of neighborhood people and church people began to overlap, a “door set open” so that relationship and even community might form. For though the world shows ample evidence of the crucifixion, we know the story of resurrection, for those with hope to tell it. We know that, even standing in a field of 136 crosses, death does not have the last say, and suffering love ultimately is more powerful than money, power, and appearances. In response to Christ’s way, crucifixion is the world’s no, but resurrection is God’s resounding yes! We are a church that believes in Continuing Revelation. What God reveals in the resurrection is that the unexpected gift of the empty tomb cannot be separated from the words and actions of Jesus. Resurrection is not some fluffy ideal made of marshmallow Peeps and bunny ears, unconnected to the real world. Resurrection is an invitation to live as Jesus lived, both difficult and joyful, a doorway into a life where meals are shared with the stranger among us, captives are set free, healing is offered to the hopeless, and prophetic challenge is issued to the powerful. Only now it is not Jesus who does these things; it is we ourselves who do them—seeing at last the signs of new life springing up all around us. It is we ourselves who see the incredible hope and subversive power of the resurrection in order to live it in our own lives. But it simply won’t work if we pause for others to come to us, sitting in our comfortable pews, waiting for them to listen patiently and politely. They will have to see resurrection in us. The resurrected Christ is in our communities, waiting for us to meet him there. Step forward in faith. Touch the mission where it appears. Let your hope become action this Easter season!

Michele McGrath