#cemetery field trip!! i guess it also happens

[unproduciblesmackdown]

love this as posted by goosebumps completionist on twitter as a gtm:pota + gts (series (book) (i also saw the episode but it underwhelmed)) pota enjoyer and also to an extent goosebumps generally (i have only read so many & cue the variation within one zillion of them like "oh right i have only just rediscovered i Did read monster blood b/c a couple details Were familiar to me, but overall it was so unmemorable i forgot this")

noting any of the way being Undead works out here lmao like that basically you're alive and having a mostly typical time. but if you're a ghost you do have that ghost quest to get to, which is why you're a ghost. and if you're having a fully corporeal revived time (which ghosts mostly are. or entirely, as far as anyone ever knew or it was ever mentioned with phantom brian colsen out here) it is also just another tuesday....unless it's not! (welcome to dead house (need to kill some people to sustain you)) (a zombie in trouble (will have to attack with all your fury. do they kill people in a required supernatural way? that's their little secret)) also love the written Goosebumps Humor like this is so funny already. a zombie in trouble. i admit it.

[platinumrosetail]

I have a request for you! A Lackadaisy x Pokemon request!

Basically a Espeon!Reader falls into the Lackadaisy universe, let's say during the pilot episode? She has no clue what's going on, but seeing how Rocky, Freckle, and Ivy were in trouble, she uses her psyhic powers to save them and escapes with them. Her actions, along with her exotic looks, ends up catching the attention of a certain glasses wearing black cat called Mordecai.

Lackadaisy is a new fandom that I got in to so I hope I be getting requests for it. Me and the requester talked and we decided to add some things to it so the extra things that weren’t in the request is from us chatting and making sure we got everything all good, just wanted to say that to clear up any confusion you might have! 😁

The requester had also inform me that mordecai is asexual but for this he can be any sexuality as there are many, I know there might be some people not liking when other people change the sexuality of a character and I’m sorry for that but I like modecai romantically and so I made it a au where he has a different sexuality, if you don’t like that then you can leave, plus this is fanfiction so there would most likely be au in some if not most along with how how fanfiction will most likely have different dialogs with the reader, oc, or when someone ships a character with another character and need a way to get them in love with one another so please don’t post hate on this as you can leave it alone if you don’t like it, thank you.

I also don’t know some of the characters accents so i hope i do a acceptable job on it from what i could hear in the pilot and comics, i also don’t know the slang that are from the 1920’s times but I’m hoping to go do some research and hopefully make this come out as almost accurate to the times it’s set place, s wish me luck 😅, though, of course when I do use them it’ll be for the lackadaisy characters that are involved, the reader will most likely have a bit more modern type of outlook as she will be born in the modern times of the Pokémon games we know of.

Warning: noob author, female reader, gang fights, violence, au, and others.

Characters: mordecai, zib, Viktor, nico, one-sided!asa sweet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were just walking down the path to your den after visiting your sisters, who’re the other 8 eevee evolution sept for the youngest who is still an eevee named eve, you decided to take a detour to get to a field that had some beautiful flowers and tasty berries that you can grab for some dinner.

You guess you weren’t paying attention to the ground as you tripped and fallen into the neck length tall grass and tumbled down which made you dizzy.

When you got back up on your feet and noticed how far away the ground is and that the grass doesn’t come to your neck like it usually does when you come here, some occasions a herd of herbivore pokemon would com in and shorten the grass but you know that you didn’t tumble down for that to happen so fast.

You looked down at your paws to only see them more human-like but still have paw like features like claws that seem to not want to retract.

You also have on clothes like a human would, the type of clothes is (c/c) (choice/of/clothes) that is of a past time period, how you know this is because you had came across on one of your adventure to the human territory that is known as cities/towns.

You heard muffled voices behind you which made you look and see through the tree line and see two feline beings that didn’t look like any pokemon you know, one did seem to have a arginine like pattern on their form, the other seemed to have dark fur, at least as dark as a kitten but with out the red details.

You’re guessing that this is a cemetery with how the two seemed to be digging up a coffin from a grave with how many tombstones there is laced out.

You heard a sudden voice which made you jump in surprise as you didn’t expect there to be a third party with the two though that sudden surprise had made you step on a twig which alerted the two that was on the ground.

The two looked in your direction in a frightened state which made you guilty so you slowly came out in the tree line and into the open.

“Sorry to have frightened you, you see, it would seem I’m a bit los-” ……… you had accidentally tripped over what you could guess was a big root.

“What is with me and tripping today~….” You groaned out in embarrassment and defeat at the clumsiness that doesn’t usually come out this frequent, especially around other beings that is watching you.

“Let me help you miss! I’m rocky!! This here is my cousin Calvin but I like to call him freckles and over there is my good friend ivy pepper! What’s your name pretty miss?!” This ‘rocky’ fellow came out of nowhere and introduced himself, his cousin, and his female friend.

“O-oh! Um…. Hello, my name is (Y/n). I’m kinda lost you see and I don’t know where I am or how I can get home from here….” You explained.

“Have no fear dear damsel in distress! We shall help you to beloved abode!”

“ROCKY!” A sudden whisper yell that came from ivy which made both you and rocky look at her in confusion. “If you don’t remember, we’re in a middle of doing something right now!”

“Ahh!~ and we’ll do it after we bring the madame to her home safe as a daisy!”

“I don’t mind waiting until you you get done….. with whatever it was you were doing, I’m not in any rush really.”

“Ok! You can come with us to the little daisy cafe after we’re done! We do need more costumers for miss M so this would be great!” Rocky says upbeat and loud which made the two with him ‘shh’ him.

“What exactly are you doing here? If you don’t mind me asking, maybe I could help you with it.” You questioned them as you haven’t the faintest idea of what their doing here disturbing the dead and hopefully they have a good reason to as you don’t know and don’t want to find out about any ghosts being here like there is in some places as that’s usually where deadly ghost types resides at as it’s their main territory.

“Oh! We’re getting booze from this coffin for the lackadaisy clu-” before he could finish ivy covered his mouth with her hand but you’ve already figured out what their doing with how much he said.

“Lackadaisy club? What’s that?” Ivy sighed and let go of Rocky after you said that already knowing you pieces together the finishing of the word Rocky was about to say.

“It’s a club for allies of little daisy cafe that was founded by atlas may which is now in the hands of his wife after his passing.” Ivy explained while glaring at Rocky for your guessing of giving it away to a complete stranger, aka, you.

“Oh.” Is all you said.

“Well, seeing as you already know this much information, why don’t you join the staff?!”

“You can’t just ask her that, Rocky!” Ivy scolds Rocky.

“Oooh~ what’s the harm? We need more staff for little daisy cafe and lackadaisy, plus she already know what we’re doing here so why not?!” Rocky tries to convince Ivy as both you and the quiet boy who’s name is Calvin look at each other and nervously smile at each other as the other two continue to talk.

“Fine! But don’t drag me and Calvin in with you if you get in trouble for bringing her.” Ivy says while crossing her arms and looking away from Rocky in a mad way.

“Uh, Rocky I think I found-” Rocky came down to where Calvin was interrupting him when he was talking in the process.

“Is that it?” Ivy asks.

“Well, it it isn’t then we’d have an awkward explaining to do to the family of uuuh…. Herman hapfamschfeel?”

You just stayed quiet as you still didn’t fully know what was going on and you also didn’t know how to pronounce that name either so you couldn’t really help at the moment.

(I’m going to speed this along a little right here.)

We are now driving away to save our lives.

The coffin indeed had booze in it and while we were putting the in the container that these three had in their…..car? Whatever they called it back in the day, until one dropped, surprisingly didn’t get destroyed, Rocky and Calvin were trying to find it in the dark until Ivy went and grabbed her flashlight, though some shed of light did come from another car like thing which scared both you and Ivy but the two didn’t notice until you and Ivy yelped and started heading into the car like contraption.

The passenger side car door opened and all of you were now being shot at by whoever got out of that car.

Ivy reversed the car making it go backwards as all four of you panicked as more shots were being fired.

It took a while for Rocky and Calvin to get in but thankfully they got in safely without getting shot.

Ivy was still going in reverse which ended the car close to the water of a not so deep pond.

Ivy was able to turn the car around to the correct way and started driving on the dirt path that was under the bridge before gassing it.

The door to the back was still opened with Calvin hanging onto it though Rocky was able to drag him in and shut the door in the process which made you breath a sigh of relief.

You were still processing all that’s happening so you don’t notice what was going on in back sit with Rocky and Calvin.

Though you tuned back in when Rocky was holding on to the case that had the booze in it.

“What’s going on back there?!” Both you and Ivy asks in worry.

You hear gun shots which made you look back to see Calvin shooting at the car that was attacking you guys.

“I’m going to help them.” You said as you try and get yourself in the backseat.

“What?! Are you crazy?!” Ivy yells but you continue on.

You help Rocky get back in and he turned Calvin to the back door window.

“Breaks!” Ivy hit the breaks as she was told as you hold on to something.

Calvin continues to shoot at the car following you guys as it’s now on the side of the car you’re all in.

Calvin had shot one of their tires which made them get off the road though you saw one of them get out of it.

You get on top of the roof of the car so you can have more room. Hopefully the stores of psychic power you have would be enough to distract them from following you further and would work still in the night even if it’s a little.

You decided to use psybeam as it results in confusion so maybe it will do the same to them even though their not a Pokémon.

Mordecai, the one who got out of his and his colleagues car watch as one of the cats get out of the car he and his colleagues were following wondering what the cat was going to do but was shocked to see a pink beam come out of what would be the cat’s forehead.

Once the beam hit it brought him in confusion and dizziness.

You quickly got back in as Rocky got Ivy to turn left into…. Somewhere, the car crashed into some kind of warehouse that was most likely used for work.

Rocky got out of the car as you make sure Calvin and Ivy were ok and not hurt…. As much.

You watch in confusion and worry as Rocky got up and started laughing for whatever reason you didn’t know before swinging open a door that was apart of the warehouse and exit out of it.

You got out of the care with careful steps as you hadn’t processed what was going on still and only did what you could think of which was sit and calm your breathing and rushing heart so you could focus more on what’s happening and what might happen next and to process all that’s already happened, and while doing that Ivy and Calvin talked which you haven’t focused on yet until Calvin said something about the engine compartment of the car which was making smoke.

You sadly couldn’t help much as you don’t know how to fix anything like a vehicle and you don’t have the moves or typing for it.

You look around for something that might help y’all.

(I’m going to speed things along again as it’s already pretty long and I still need to do get some more stuff typed in for the request.)

Calvin had gone out to throw them away as you and Ivy stayed with the car.

Ivy had spotted a shadow of someone coming closer to where you two were which made you go to the door which had another person in y’all’s path.

“Well, hi cutie.” The guy complimented while greeting which made you blush as you don’t get complimented much but quickly brought back to shut the door with Ivy and hid underneath the car.

The two are now right next to the car as you two try to stay quiet, the female of the two said something that sounded almost kalosian.

Explosions were heard which brought the two’s attention onto that thankfully.

Calvin had found you two as what you could guess Rocky was setting the explosions; you held the two close so as to protect them from any possible sneak attacks that might happen.

Ivy asked what happened as you and her helped hold Calvin up as he held his head which made you focus on the wound you notice he has.

He just said his cousin name as the cat in question passed by laughing like a maniac.

“Here let me help with that wound of yours.” You gestured calvin to get a little closer so you can see the damage more.

“Don’t freak out at what I’m about to do, ok?” Ivy and calvin looked at you in confusion as you get ready to use morning sun, a move that heals.

a soft glow like it would in the day came and the wound is healed as good as new and like it wasn’t there and didn’t happen

“H-how?” Both question as you just smile softly while saying nothing.

More explosions happened as you and Ivy helped Calvin as he’s still recovering from whatever had happened to him while he was away from you two though when y’all looked up y’all see rushing water coming which made y’all hurry back inside to avoid it and not to get wet.

You three got into the car and exit out of the way y’all came through. Ivy came across a muddy rocky and slowed down so he could get in before driving faster to get out of there.

You and Ivy both look back to see one of the ones after y’all until you two see that he wasn’t aiming to shoot anymore.

All of you finally made it to where these three were originally headed to after they had finished their errand.

You see four cats, three male, one female, you were behind Rocky so they couldn’t see you with his tall form in the way.

You awkwardly waited as the four paid attention to Rocky, Calvin, and Ivy as you didn’t exactly know what to do as you’re mostly used to your family and only ever talked to a stranger is if it was necessary plus you thought it might be rude to interrupt now.

It took a while fire the four to notice you as they were paying attention to the booze and the three you came in with.

“Um, before you two start your jazz, do you mind introducing us to your friend over there?”

You were looking at your shows that came with you when you were transported to this world before looking up at what the man with the blue eyes slicked back…. Fur? Hair? You’re just going to go with hair but anyway you awkwardly wave while smiling nervously before greeting in a small voice feeling anxiety creep up you at the attention being on you.”

“Um, h-hello…”

“Who might you be, sweetie?” The she-cat questioned.

“I’m (Y/n), and I was found by those three while they were doing their errand, you see, I had gotten lost somehow when I was in my favorite field and had tumbled down, and the next thing I knew I was somewhere entirely different and had found them doing the errand which leaded me to joining them, if you’d like for me to leave then I’ll leave, sorry to bother you by the way.

After some more talk and a few hours of getting to know them and showing them that what you’ve said was true by doing some of the moves you had learned as you grew and gotten stronger, you finally have a job at the little daisy cafe and at the lackadaisy club.

One night the two out of three that was there when you first came to this world came and snuck into the lackadaisy club to steal some of their stuff but ended up catching you in the midst of singing as it was apart of your new job there.

You waited tables at both lackadaisy and little daisy while sing at the club, you only knew the songs from your world so that brought in some customers which was great for business.

Though what you and the others didn’t know was that two people that works for the marigold was her to steal things for asa sweet the boss of marigold.

“She sure can sing! And isn’t she also the one with those three?” Nico questioned after looking more close at the she-cat after noticing a sense of familiarity of her.

“Hm, yes, indeed she is a good singer and yes she was there with those lackadaisy, but need I remind you what we’re here for?” Mordecai questioned as he shifted his gaze from you to his colleague, nico, who put his paws up in surrender before the two went and begin what they had came there for.

While you were singing to wick’s guest and other costumers that had came and mordecai was stealing from lackadaisy with nico on the look out it would seem some other people decided to follow and attack the car that destroyed their farm that helps them make alcohol for them to sell, they had attacked victor while rocky went to get some help unloading the automobile.

When you were inform about the situation it was already too late to stop viktor from getting his injury though you hurry and went to him as you may be able to heal him even if it’s just the wound and not the pain that had came with the injury.

You had gotten to where Mitzi, ivy, zip and the band, and the doctor was and began using morning sun to heal viktor, they were all shocked to see what you were doing but kept quiet so you could concentrate on the task at hand, though ivy was less shocked but still shocked as she still couldn’t believe you have powers that could heal and possibly do more with it.

Mitzi was astonished at how you have powers and hoped that you would still stay with them as this could help them save money from having to use the doctor that was there with you all right now and you’d be a good ally than a enemy.

Zip was shocked but not as much as you would think as he thought there might be something about you that you were hiding from them but now understood why as this could have anyone with bad intentions use you for their benefits.

Viktor was woozy and couldn’t focus on a thing sept for the red glowing gem that was on your forehead but when he was back at his home and was able to comprehend what had happened he in his own way said thank you though he also made sure you were alone so no one could her him and even if you told anyone no one but maybe mitzi would believe you.

After that happened plus paying some visits to him with ivy Mitzi had called you to come with her, rocky, and freckles to meet with a friend of her late husband and hers.

You, rocky, and freckles were introduced to as a and the other cat named mordecai who reminds of that cat that didn’t shoot at you and your new friends, you been trying to sneak a few glances at different times.

Asa had creeped you out especially with his flirtatious ways and the way he would look at you which brought the protectiveness of rocky, freckles, and surprisingly Mitzi, she had grown to like you as a sister would and rocky, and freckles grown to like as a older sister would and the same goes for ivy as well.

Mordecai had noticed your glance but didn’t question it as he guessed he understand why you were glancing at him at times as it would seem you recognized him or felt a familiarity from him

(A/n: hope you like it!! I’m sorry that the last bit was kind short, i just wanted to hurry and get it done so the requester could finally see it, reason why it’s took so long is because i procrastinated as i was thinking idea for a possible book for this lovely fandom and also cause i was busy with work and i had went and visited my aunt, plus i was trying to draw a oc inspired by this request because it interested me but sadly i couldn’t get the oc how i wanted yet, but anyway hope y’all have a wonderful day/evening/night!!!)

[madmilez]

There is a house, on cemetery rd, that I can only find at night. I suppose I should also point out that, its not really called cemetery road, it is simply referred to as cemetery road by basically everyone who knows it exists. Its legal name is Nobel wray.

The reason its called cemetery road is because, you guessed it, there's a cemetery on it. Who would a thought?

So, the first time I noticed the place, I was coming home, at night, and I spotted it in the middle of a field set among some trees. All around this small area was open field. The house looked creepy as I could really only see the silhouette and, incase you were unaware, creepy old houses is my thing.

This place stood out to me as a place I wanted to explore. It was clearly abamdoned and probably held untold treasures.

I didn't see the place again for awhile. I suppose I'd forgotten about it until, one night I was out on the tractor with my buddy. We were going to check out a different house and happened across the house( the first house) on the way there.

I saw it better that night and told my buddy we would have to stop there on the way back. Well, we never made it back.

So now I've got this place on my mind for awhile. I have, a this point, made a few attempts at finding the place in the day time. Couldn't find it. So, I decided to ride my bike all the way down cemetery road thinking that I couldn't miss the place going that slow.

So here's the thing. The place isn't there in the daylight. Its just not. After the third trip down cemetery road, I finally conceded to this point.

I was able to find it several times when driving by at night. It seemed that my intention could not be to find the place or even at night I had trouble.

So, I ended up looking up and down cemetery rd on Google maps. After a painfully long time, I figured out where it was. On the map it showed what looked like a fallen down metal building and what appeared to be the remnants of house long gone. Yet the house I saw was still standing.

I looked back at old photos of the property and they were all the same, no house, until I reached the oldest photo Google had taken. It was from 15 years prior and showed the house exactly the way I remember seeing it!

The strangest part about this photo was that the sun seemed to be only 50 yards or so away from the house and its rays shined out ward and went on forever....

I can't explain these occurrences, all I can do is tell you what I've been able to record with my senses.

[benefits1986]

Of Deja Vu and Horror Stories

It's the 31st of October and KJMS x Diplomat Hotel x Ed Caluag is trending. I also happen to love Baguio and have been thinking of visiting yet again, just because, why not?

Let this be a rundown of curated horror stories from someone who has overactive imagination. Horror stories even the most ugh ones actually make me scream to the top of my lungs. Umaatras talaga ako e. However, I like ghost hunts in old streets and spaces like Manila and Baguio. LOL. Iba 'yung live experience and for me, there's actually a world in between the living and the dead for such a long time.

I guess this roots back to my first encounter where I saw my Inang Sinta's last breaths. It was a sweltering summer just in time for the our sleepy town's pista ng bayan. I think I was around 8 or 9 years old. I was playing nonchalantly and I was called by my older cousin. I didn't know ina is passing. Days before, she even had her signature red mani and pedi from her suking tagakutkot ng kuko. She had to get a bedrest because she seemed to have a slight fever. Nothing too serious, though I knew she's nursing a stomach trouble for quite some time. So, there I was. I didn't know how to process it but as I saw her breathe her last breath. It was not so much of a struggle and looking back, she looked peaceful.

Not sure if this where some weird things started, but I started to have far and few lucid dreams. I do not generally believe in paranormal stuff then even when mom and my brother would always have their versions of amulets along with their rosaries. LOL. Badtrip nga ako sa mga laway kahit sinasabing nababati ako ng mga lola, tita at strangers. UGH.

At first, it was just random deja vu like field trips, specific moments in class and the like. However, when I was a frosh in nursing, I started to have more lucid dreams like being in an all girls' school. Of course, I laughed it off as I shared to my soul sister. Since she is a fan of the paranormal, she told me that it might be a premonition. I brushed it off because nowhere in my literal and figurative dream that I want to be in an old classroom with all girls in the hood. The blackboard was old and there was a quiz that made me wrinkle my nose. A year after stopping from school, I found myself in an old classroom with all girls downing an accounting exam. I wrinkled my nose and stopped. DAMN. Siguro kaya C+ lang ako sa accounting dahil dito. Hanap sisi lang but, hey. GAAP naman is pretty practical: economic entity, monetary unit, and time period. 'Wag ako. Saka puwede na AI 'yan these days. LELS. I remember kulang ng less than 1 PHP 'yung balance sheet ko. So graphic. It's traumatic. I had two Baguio trips where I had tongue in cheek shit shows. One was a ghost hunt and another is an exclusive solo tour in Diplomat Hotel.

The ghost hunt was actually just something I chanced upon and dahil gusto ko may something new every punta sa Baguio, sige. Naubusan na ako ng ideas PLUS my friends are really up for it. So ayun na nga, wala lang talaga siya sa umpisa pero, as we progressed, ang stress. 'Yung highlight niya is 'yung public cemetery ng Baguio. LERKZZZ. 'Yung mga fetus and babies na graves. Plus 'yung center spot doon is so weird. As in. Doon daw na-corner 'yung mga American soldiers back in the time of war.

Before I talk about the Diplomat Hotel "exclusive" tour, let me share my experience in La Casa Bianca. I chanced upon it from Paula Peralejo's recos. I love its location because it's accessible but not in the bustling side of Baguio. I booked it online and got a good deal. When we arrived, I was welcomed by no less than the Laperal House right across it. Syempre, soul sister ko was so giddy, since she devours horror stories. As in high na high siya. In fairness, I love La Casa Bianca and might spend a night there yet again. LOL.

So ayun na nga. Ginamit ko ang aking angking-galing para makapasok sa Diplomat Hotel kasi by special arrangements lang siya. LOL. My soul sister wanted to check it out and see me chicken out before she flies to SG. So, ayun na nga. Nadali ako ng bata sa may fountain. And of course, my most graphic lucid dream is when I saw how mom died, two weeks before siya madeads. HAYYYYY. Sabi sa church noong may Life in the Spirit Seminar ako na nahatak ako, 'yung gift ko daw is prophecy. HAY. Pinag-take kasi kami ng quiz tapos ayun. Sabi ko nga, okay naman na ako ng ibang gifts, 'wag lang 'yang prophecy na 'yan. LOL. Maging prophet na lang ba ako kesa maging alipin ng AI? Hahahahahahahaha. At least, may choice ako saka in demand naman mga prophets kahit hindi legit. LELS.

Siguro, 'yung pivotal moment ko sa belief ko is when I experienced astral projections. Yes, plural. I would talk about this when I am ready. HUHUHUHUHUHU. Akala ko nga simpleng sleep paralysis lang e. OOOOWEEEEMM. I just cut-pasted the paragraph above kasi ni-move ko and guess what? Ang nag-appear is 'yung last night copy-pasted ko. LOL. First time in history, baby. Baka nanay ko na naman 'tong nanga-agit. Hahahahahaha. Tigilan mo ako, ma. Ang aga-aga. Labyoooo. Sunduin mo na ba ako? Hahahahaha. I think ready naman na ako, hindi ko lang sure kung ready ka ba. 'Wag mo akong subukan. 'Wag mo akong i-trigger with thanks. Paki note. Duly note, please. Syempre, there's the suking PGH and Manila Doctors na ang stress talaga minsan lalo 'pag ako lang mag-isa sa corridors. Pati elevators, mhie. 'Yung Baler na balete tree na I swear may sumusunod sa akin pero hindi creepy. Parang mala-Avatar feels. 'Yung Siquijor and Danjugan encounters na sobrang in my face and up my thicc ass. LOLOLLOL. Plus, Diliman at night. As in, ilang beses na ayoko ng bumalik doon kasi ang lakas nila. I cannot. Kaya pala Diliman name niya. Pakshet. To clarify, 'pag may nararamdaman ako, talagang prayers lang and overthinking ang baon ko. Lagi ko sinasabi sa entities, 'wag magpakita kasi hindi ko talaga kaya. Isa pa lang nakita ko irl. 'Yung babaeng walang face sa jump train ng MRT. HUHUHUHUHUHU. Sabi ko naman nung na Anong dream kong next level ng horror shitshow ko? This is sooo crazy kasi nga libre naman mangarap. Pyramids of Giza. A non-mainstream castle somewhere in EU. Japan's Forbidden Forest. HUY. Hahahahahahah. Shet. Baka cardiac arrest na abutin ko neto, but as I said previously, I get scared easily, but I go for it anyway. Sana 'pag natupad, madocument ko ng photos and vids kasi hindi ko talaga kayang pagsabayin. Can I just say also na mas takot pa rin ako sa commitment, sa unknown, sa mga buhay na buhay at g na g na walang moral compass, at lalo sa mga waking and walking dead. Good morning, WL Tuesday! I love youuuuu pero baka may isundot ako. Hahahahahahaha. Babu for now! Laters!

[boognish-worshipper]

ok so like i had this idea for a while n it took me MONTHS to finish bc i was nvr content w/ my writing n whatnot yadda yadda yadda anyway,, this is basically a what if thing about the triads shooting trevor in ludendorff n michael realizing how dumb he is

(my apologies that it’s so fuckin looooooong but I didn’t wanna leave it on a short note that felt incomplete. hope y’all like it !!!!! sorry for any grammatical errors or if the formatting’s funky)

//

Why didn’t he realize it sooner? Was he stupid? No, no. He was just blind. Blind for the past 10 years. Who knows. Maybe even longer than that. Fucking Michael. It always came back to that venomous shithead, constantly ruining everything for him. Did he just... forget? Was he so focused on that bloodsucker when he was “dying” in front of him he completely forgot Brad got shot first? That Brad died first? He didn’t even really think about him when shit went down. Or care much about Brad in general for that matter. The guy was a dick who just worked with other dicks back in the day, eventually joining their motley crew. A fading memory more than anything. His primary focus had always been Michael, who he thought was his right hand man. Trevor always knew that there was something different about him. As frustrating as Michael could be, it still didn’t change how he felt deep down. Michael wasn’t like the others. Or at least, that’s what he had thought. The night he found out that Michael’s lie ran deeper than he led on was one he wouldn’t forget.

He arrived at Michael’s house in a short amount of time. Hopping up the steps he made his presence known, standing in the entrance of the living room. He plopped down next to Michael, who scooted away from him slightly, still not ready for close contact from Trevor.

“Family ain’t back yet, huh?”

“Nope.”

“She’s a Goddamn fool, man.”

Trevor was never one to hide his jealousy towards Amanda. The two had been going at it for years, and it was always regarding Michael. Catty behavior between two people who had complicated relationships with the man, in their own unique ways. Amanda was scared of Trevor, but was never afraid of talking shit to his face. It was never any serious threats whenever they shot petty quips at one another anyway. She knew Trevor would never kill or harm her, all thanks to Michael, who spoke up again.

“Despite all the chaos of these last few weeks, I think I finally figured it out… I know, it sounds ridiculous-“

To Trevor, the thought wasn’t ridiculous. He knew Michael would never change. He would always be a killer, a man of action through and through. He was wasting away on a couch, rewatching classic Vinewood every night. To him, it only seemed right for Michael to keep taking scores.

“You’re back man!” He proclaimed, emphasizing his next line, “We are back!”

With excitement in his eyes, Trevor went on to boast about the little clique they had formed, and how they only needed to bust Brad out to fully reunite. Michael looked solemn, shaking his head slightly.

“That’s not it. I got money, it just makes you miserable-“ Now it was his turn to have excitement shine in his eyes.

“I wanna make movies.”

“Great. That’s great… and uh, so where exactly does this leave me in the second act of your life?”

He felt his stomach sink somewhat, regretting having asked that question. Michael would always tiptoe around it, avoiding the inevitable. But he couldn’t run from the past anymore. It would always catch up to him.

“This is not a game to me! Alright? This is a fuckin’ way of life.”

“I got a fuckin’ family!”

“Yeah, well, I got nothin’! No one gives a fuck about me!”

There was a pause. A hesitation. Amber eyes looked sorrowfully yet savagely into pale blue ones.

“I do.”

Something in Trevor snapped hearing those words. He couldn’t stand the audacity of Michael saying that to him. Because to him, Michael didn’t seem to give a fuck about what happened to Trevor. No matter how many times he lamented to him about everything he went through.

“Oh… Fuck you.”

Trevor rose from his seat, beginning to pace around the room, stabbing a finger in Michael’s direction. He did nothing but stare between his feet, not bothering to look up at Trevor.

“I saw your grave. I mourned you. And then it turns out that everything I fucking thought about you was wrong. Everything! You’re not dead, and you’re not a man.”

Michael shot up from his seat, cool demeanor abandoned in a fit of anger.

“Well, what the fuck are you?”

“I’m your fucking nightmare!”

“Yeah, enough with your Goddamn threats!”

Trevor did nothing but scoff at him, backing away like he was about to leave the room. Instead, some kind of alarm went off in his head, urging him to stay and ask the question he pushed far into the back of his mind. The inevitable was happening, and he couldn’t ignore the need to ask anymore. If Michael himself stood before him alive as ever, then who the fuck was in Michael Townley’s grave? Then suddenly, and ultimately, it clicked for him. Fucking Brad.

“You treacherous piece of shit! You’re fuckin’ dead! You’re fucking dead!”

As it clicked for Trevor, it clicked for Michael.

“Oh, fuck! Trevor! Hey, T!”

He peeled out of the driveway in Michael’s car. God, it smelled just like that fucking prick. It made him want to cry.

“Fuck!” He screamed out to no one in particular.

He slammed on the gas and wiped away any forming tears. His phone began to ring and he saw an all too familiar photo appear. Michael. What the fuck could he possibly say or want right now?

“Fuck you.” He spat out.

“Hey, come on. Where you going?”

“You know where I’m going, fuck you!”

The fucking nerve of him to ask that. What was wrong with him? The rest of the conversation wasn’t any better. It sounded like some stupid break up between two teens, as if Michael had cheated on him with some hooker instead of lying about the past decade or so.

“Trevor, come on!”

“Fuck you Michael! Soon enough, I will.”

He was on his way to the air field, and dialed up Ron as soon as he could. He needed to get out of here before Michael could stop him.

“Trevor? It’s great to uh..”

“Is there a plane I can use? Get me across country?”

“Sure! Sure. We got one fueled up for a trip south of the border.”

“I’m taking it.”

“Is everything okay, man?”

“Everything is not okay. Nothing has ever been okay but I’m going up there to see it for myself. I’m going to see an old friend alright? If you’re where I think you are buddy...”

Trevor gripped the steering wheel harder until his knuckles turned white. Tears stung his eyes, but he couldn’t bring himself to let it out.

“I don’t know why I didn’t see it. I guess.. I guess I didn’t want to. Fuck!”

He clutched his phone tightly as he spoke, cracking the already shattered screen more. His voice was faltering, and it became harder to speak clearly.

“Maybe I knew all along. I’m gonna find out for sure and I’m gonna... do something about it! God there was always something wrong with that job, what went down after I guess I-“

The tears made their way down his face. His voice trembled and threatened to crack.

“I guess I wanted to believe- Fucking.. Fucking flea circus!”

He couldn’t hold it in any longer. Too many things began to resurface. Seeing red, he just cried out to Ron, still on the phone patiently listening to him rant.

“Idiot! Idiot! Idiot!”

“I’m sorry Trevor...”

He slammed on the gas as he approached the airfield. Running over to the plane, he hopped in and began his journey to Ludendorff. As he left, storm clouds poured in and darkened the sky. A thick rain accompanied by the thunder and lighting combo shook the small plane he was in. He braced himself for the rest of the trip there and kept going.

Ludendorff was just like he remembered. Cold, empty, and super fucking depressing. Why was the midwest like this all the time? Sure, living it up in Sandy Shores wasn’t the most ideal but for fucks sake, at least it was warm. He pulled up to the cemetery shortly after landing, and hurried off to find that God forsaken grave. After glancing at each passing gravestone, there it was. The late great Michael Townley’s place of burial.

“Who you got in here..?”

He scoffed, knowing his answer.

“As if I need to ask...”

It took forever to reach the coffin. The wood was brittle, which meant it would be easy enough to pry open and see who was actually in Michael’s place. He had been so caught up in his digging he didn’t notice a set of steps coming at him.

“You’re wasting your time.”

Trevor was wasting his time? No, he was making perfectly good use of it. Michael was wasting his if anything. Flying all the way out here for what? No, don’t say it... Was it finally gonna happen? Was Michael waiting for the opportunity to finally take a pop at him and leave his carcass for good? To toss him right into the grave with Brad? He didn’t want to believe so but hey, it’s Michael. Who knows what he’ll do. He couldn’t bear to listen to another word that came out of his mouth, and knew he needed to get the jump on him.

“You reptilian motherfucker!”

How did it end up here? Why was he pointing a gun at Michael? What the fuck was he doing? He didn’t want to kill him. He never did, even if he had a million justifiable reasons to.

“I didn’t want it to have to come to this.”

There it was again. The fucking lying. That same exact fucking lying that got them here to begin with.

“Yes you did! You just don’t have the fucking balls to do it! But I do!”

But Trevor was also a hypocrite. He didn’t have it in him to ever go through with killing Michael. No matter what the son of a bitch did to him, he meant too much to Trevor for him to ever consider killing the man himself. He didn’t want to think about being the cause of him dying for good.

“I’ve got more to lose than you!”

“Never a truer word has been spoken, brother.”

He said that with as much malice as he could muster. Michael was the farthest fucking thing from being a brother. This was a man he had loved. Hell, still loved, despite it feeling more and more like a stranger before him with each encounter they had.

“Now.. pull the fucking trigger.”

The air was too still. It was choking him, making him feel frozen. Sure, weather played a part in the feeling but this... was different. His blood felt like ice. He couldn’t do it.

“You ain’t got the guts.”

Neither of them could do it. Even if he fired he knew he’d miss. Michael had the upper hand here.

“Take the fucking shot!”

Wait. Was Michael... crying? No. No way the great Michael fucking Townley was actually crying over this. That motherfucker. He’s such a fucking fraud. A coward. Always running. Running from Trevor, his past, his problems, his family and his fucking emotions.

His train of thought had been interrupted when he heard snow faintly crunching not too far from them.

“What was that?-“

A noise shot through the tense air that surrounded them. Woosh. Fuck. No. It couldn’t be- Ow. No. No fucking way. He looked down in awe and there it was, a distinct bullet hole, pierced through his torso. It nearly missed his heart, but was most certainly in a spot to do enough damage to him. He looked back up at Michael, mouth slightly agape leaking with the blood that began to pool in his mouth. Peaking behind him, he saw two figures lingering far behind. The fucking Triads. Of course, how could he forget? It’s not everyday you slam the head of a Chinese mobster’s son into a post. Fucking shit. If only he hadn’t messed with Tao…

He was fucked, and he didn’t know what to do. All he knew was that he felt himself wanting to collapse on the ground. Michael looked at him in pure disbelief, eyes wide enough to pop from his head. Normally Trevor would giggle at the sight, but any noise from him would be a gurgle of blood in place of it.

“…Trevor?”

That was enough to knock him to the ground.

“Mr. Phillips! Mr. Cheng wants a word with you!”

Michael whipped his head back, and began dragging the two of them to cover. Was that supposed to be a fucking warning shot?? The one who shot Trevor spoke in Chinese to the other gunman, then spoke in English to the duo.

“Phillips! You and your boyfriend cannot hide from us!”

Michael grabbed his gun and started firing back, clipping the two in the front instantly.

“Trevor… what the fuck did you get into?! What are they on about? I… I’m not…”

Trevor couldn’t speak. He could only murmur at the man beside him.

“Trevor, seriously, you better answer me because I’m pretty fucking lost here-“

He angrily turned his head back to find Trevor on the verge of slipping out of consciousness, his face dropping at what was before him.

“Ah, Trevor! Shit!”

Before Michael could help him out, a van burst through the gate to the left, and more yelling ensued.

“Get out the van! Go find them!”

Michael panicked, pushing his gun into Trevor’s limp hands so he could grab the dead Triad henchman’s sturdier gun. He fired and clipped a few more men, trying his best to keep an eye on Trevor. His breathing was shallow, and he attempted to prop himself up so he could fire at them too.

“Trevor, what the fuck is going on? Who are these guys?”

“It’s the fucking,” He winced, pushing himself onto his knees so he could grab the side of the grave they hid behind. He spit out some blood that leaked from his mouth, staining the snow beneath them.

“The God damn Chinese, sugar tits.”

“Why are they-“

“Ask questions later, I’m fucking bleeding out here.”

Trevor forced himself to fully stand, his legs wobbling slightly. He fired a few more rounds, face contorted in pain. Another bullet flew by him, grazing his side.

“Fuck! Ow!” He growled.

“T, what in the hell are you doing?! Get down!”

“Fuck off you fucking leech! I can-“ He spit out more blood.

“I can handle this myself!”

He groaned, keeping his aim as still as he possibly could, which wasn’t very still at all. Stubborn as ever, Trevor went in guns blazing. He used not only the gun Michael had forced into his hands, but also the one he had brought with him. Several more shots fired at him until he felt a hand yank him back to the ground. He fell with a slight thump, and pain jolted through him again.

“You crazy bastard! We’re getting the fuck out of here, but that can’t exactly be accomplished if you’re dead!”

“Oh please! You already want me dead you fat fucking snake!” He wheezed out.

“Jesus Christ- Trevor. I already told you-“

“Shit, Mikey-”

Before either one could do anything about it, a Triad that had snuck up on them pistol whipped Michael in the back of the head. Trevor scrambled backwards and attempted to get on his feet, but to no avail. In a last minute effort, he lifted Michael’s gun and fired. For someone who was labeled a lousy shot by his partner, he felt that Michael would’ve been proud of his aim at that moment in time. A clean shot, right between the fucker’s eyes. He grinned slightly, adrenaline still coursing through him. He barked out a laugh, forgetting how much of a chore it was to allow any noise to escape him. It caused him to break into a coughing fit, spitting up more blood onto the snow. He looked from the small circle of blood that formed in front of him, back to Michael’s limp body. He shoved him slightly, trying to nudge him back into consciousness.

“Mikey. Michael. Get up. We gotta go like you said-“

He heard another van pull up. Then another. Fuck.

“You gotta be shitting me..”

Trevor, disregarding his wounds weakening him to the point his vision grew spotty, swapped his handgun for the gun Michael grabbed. He tried his best to prop the other man up against a grave, well out of the Triad’s line of sight. He pushed through any pain he felt, still riding his adrenaline high, wiping the rest of them out one by one. He rushed back over to Michael, who was stirring awake.

“Michael, for fucks sake get up already! Jesus I’m still fucking bleeding and I have to save your ass right now? Come on!”

He was finally able to stand, and Trevor slung Michael’s arm around his shoulder, helping him regain his balance. They helped one another walk through the mess of snow, blood, and bodies to get to the rental car, which surprisingly was still in alright shape. Across the train tracks, one more van started to pull up, right before the nightly train passed through town.

“Haha! Thank you train for being useful this time!”

He forgot how much it hurt to laugh, clutching his side and muttering curses under his breath as the two raced over to the car. Michael hopped in the driver’s seat after placing Trevor in the passenger’s side. Trevor’s adrenaline rush began to die down along with the rest of him. Michael raced out of the cemetery, narrowly escaping the left over henchmen. Glancing over at Trevor, he realized how shit of a shape he was in. Despite not living in North Yankton in close to 10 years, he still remembered where all the nearby hospitals were. It wasn’t ideal, considering what they were doing up there and who they were and what not, but it was better than having Trevor die on the spot.

“Hey, don’t you fucking die on me right now buddy. There’s no way you ain’t surviving the shit show we just went through, which only happened thanks to you.”

Trevor asked himself why Michael was still giving him snide remarks about his unruliness. He figured now wasn’t the time to really argue, but still tried nonetheless.

“You… fuckin’ snake.. you think you’re so..”

“I’m so what Trevor? No you know what- Don’t speak right now, but try to stay awake, please?”

“Mmph..”

The ride out of Ludendorff was quiet. The radio was off, and neither one chose to speak. Michael of course was driven mad by the silence.

“…Look. Trevor I- I fucked up. There’s nothing I can do now to fix it, no matter how many times I apologize. But you do- You do know that I cared about you then, and I care about you now…”

Trevor did nothing but grunt in response, eyelids heavy. Michael sighed.

“We’re almost to a hospital. They’ll fix you up good, and- and you’re gonna be fine. You ain’t dying on me yet. I mean- you’ve survived worse? You.. I…”

He huffed out a breath, gripping the steering wheel tight. The rest of the ride was silent, save for Michael making sure Trevor was still alive and conscious. They made it to the hospital, with Michael carrying him fireman style, seeing as Trevor was very lanky compared to him. He called out for someone to help, using his gift of lying to say that Trevor was just shot by a random mugger, so the report back wouldn’t seem too suspicious. He patiently waited for word back from a doctor, eventually seeing someone come to him with a clip board.

“Are you… Franklin?”

Michael had been smart enough to give them both fake names, but he just blurted out the first two names that came to mind. Right now, he went by Franklin, and for all they knew Trevor was Lamar.

“Yes, that’s me.”

“Your friend is in critical condition, but you got him here just in time. Any later and he wouldn’t have made it.”

The last sentence caused Michael’s ears to ring.

“He’s going to be out of surgery soon, the bullet wound was pretty deep.” The doctor narrowed their eyes slightly, getting ready to write the report down.

“You said that he was mugged?”

“Yeah. The guy fired at him and ran off. Didn’t get a good look at his face.”

“Hmm… well alright. I’ll let you know when your friend is ready for visitors.”

The rest of the night was painfully slow. By the time Trevor was out of surgery, he was still hopped up on morphine, allowing him to rest properly for the first time in forever. Michael sheepishly walked in, careful not to be too loud. He made his way over to Trevor’s side, sitting in the seat next to his bed. He hadn’t seen Trevor look so content like that in so long. Not since... those days. He spoke to himself, seeing as Trevor was fast asleep.

“You worry me so much you dumbfuck… why do you pull the shit you pull? I mean.. shit. I… I love you, man. I do. But what if you died without ever hearing that from me again? Is that the reason why you get like this? Shit. Right. I’m such a fucking idiot.”

Besides everything about Ludendorff, it angered Trevor to his core that Michael could never admit he loved Trevor unless he was drunk or alone. In this instance, he technically was. Trevor was peacefully dreaming, while Michael felt restless. He proceeded to fumble around for his cellphone to reach out to Franklin, who had been wondering what happened to them. He knew Franklin would probably be up anyway.

Yo Mike, where u at? Trevor too, Lamar n I gotta do one last job wit him.

F

Currently in North Yankton kid. Trev found out about Brad. Some Chinese gangsters rolled on us, T got shot. Be home soon hopefully.

M

Oh shit. Stay safe out there homie. See u soon ig.

F

Michael let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, looking back up at Trevor. He tried to think about what he would do next. Knowing that visiting hours were limited, he felt a twinge of guilt knowing he’d have to leave Trevor alone for a night after what happened. But it was late, and he couldn’t stay there overnight. He figured he’d have to bunk in some cheap motel for the time being. Just until Trevor and him were ready to leave North Yankton. He spoke to the doctor from before to let them know he would come back the next morning. When he arrived at the nearest shit motel, he still couldn’t find it in him to sleep. He was tired, sure, but his mind wouldn’t allow him to drift off. Even if he did, he would find himself jolting awake, the scene of Trevor getting shot playing over and over in his head. He’d almost been responsible for Trevor’s death once, he couldn’t let it happen for real. What would he do anyway if he did die? He quickly brushed the thought off, not wanting to consider the possibilities.

He returned to the hospital the next morning, half awake from the lack of sleep. Visiting hours were early, and he wanted to get them both out of here as fast as he could. Walking to Trevor’s room, he saw the man sitting upright looking out the window. North Yankton may have been cold as a bitch, but from time to time it had real pretty sunrises. He knocked lightly on the door, and Trevor turned to face him.

“Hey, T…”

He couldn’t read the expression on his face.

“I thought you left.”

“Visiting hours are limited, T. You should know that by now.”

He didn’t say anything in response, facing back towards the window instead. Michael sat down in one of the chairs across from him.

“You.. you worried me. I thought-“

“You thought what, cupcake? That I’d just die on the spot, and you could just leave my dead body there-“

“Trevor! For the last time that wasn’t my fucking plan!”

Their voices steadily increased above the normal level it should’ve been for a hospital setting.

“Then why did you have a fucking gun, huh Mikey?”

“I could ask the same for you!”

“Oh of course, turn the situation onto me again-“

“You brought a gun for what, Trevor?!”

“That’s not the issue at hand here!”

“Yes it is!”

A voice chimed into their argument.

“Excuse me. You,” A nurse who walked in pointed at Trevor.

“You need to rest. And sir, I’m not sure who you are, but if you want to stay as a visitor I suggest you lower your voice and behave.”

The two men looked at each other angrily before sitting back down. The nurse exited, most likely wanting to return later so Michael could discuss discharging him. Silence filled the room briefly.

“T… I meant what I said.” His voice had dropped to a whisper.

Trevor didn’t look him in the eye. His arms were crossed, and he just looked out the window.

“I could’ve lost you.”

The other man still said nothing.

“I could’ve lost you and you would’ve died not knowing I..” He trailed off.

Trevor turned back to look at Michael while speaking.

“Knowing what? You hiding something else from me, porkchop?”

“I…”

“Spit it the fuck out Mikey or I swear to God-“

“I love you.”

His felt his stomach twist uncomfortably, and his hands became clammy. He finally forced the words out, sober.

“I love you.” He repeated, shutting his eyes so he wouldn’t have to look at Trevor while saying it. He chose to look at his feet instead.

“I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner. And I just.. kept thinking that you could’ve died not hearing that from me ever again.”

He didn’t notice it at first, but tears brimmed his eyes. Trevor’s scowl fell and his face softened.

“What?” Was all he could choke out.

“Don’t.. don’t make me say it again.” He said, face flushing red.

“You..” Trevor didn’t finish his sentence. He shuddered in his seat, ready to cry himself. He buried his face in his hands, muffling something incoherent.

“What?”

He lifted his head up, tears streaking his cheeks.

“I’m so sorry, Michael.”

“Sorry for what?”

“For.. being like this.”

Trevor was a lot of things. You couldn’t just describe him in only one word. Michael tried sifting through the options of what he meant.

“I pushed you so hard back then I.. I thought I was losing you. I didn’t want to. All it did was make you want to leave even more.” Trevor kept sniffling.

“Trev…”

“Why Michael? Why do you do this to me?”

He wanted to ask him “Do what?”, but they both knew the answer. Michael never let his feelings be more than surface level. He was repressed and Trevor hated it. Trevor continued to cry, and the tears that Michael held in spilled.

“Hey.. don’t… don’t apologize, T. Please.”

“I..” He hiccuped.

“I’ve loved you for so long. Why couldn’t you have done the same?”

Michael kept his head down. He didn’t want to see the heartbroken expression on Trevor’s face. It only made him feel worse.

“You left me.”

“I didn’t want to.”

“But you still did. Telling me that doesn’t change anything. You became another person in my life that I loved and then you left. Same as always for me.”

Everything Trevor loved was always out of his reach. Flying, his mother, Michael, Patricia… He could go on. Nothing was ever gonna be permanent for him.

“But I’m here for you now, T. I’m not going anywhere.”

He finally looked up to see Trevor’s sad eyes burning a hole right through him. His silence told him it’d be a long while before he could believe his words.

“Now.. uh. Let’s get the fuck outta this place.”

It didn’t take long for Trevor to be discharged. The doctors had told him he should stay for another day or so, but only got an irritated response from Trevor. Figuring the duo wouldn’t budge on wanting to leave, he was signed off for clearance. They eventually found the plane Trevor flew in on, and made their way out of the state. Neither one knew if this would change anything between them, but Trevor felt more at ease around him. It would still take time and effort for any left over wounds to heal, but for right now, Trevor was content.

[ex-vengeancedemon]

Averting Disasters and Other Ways to Avoid Your Problems

Chapter 2

Characters from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Mentions of things that occurred in Angel: The Series season 5.

Main Pairing: Buffy x Spike

Characters: Buffy, Spike, Giles, Willow, Xander, Andrew, Faith, Dawn

Summary: Set in 2008, five years after Spike's resurrection at Wolfram & Hart. Buffy is living in Cleveland guarding the hellmouth. Spike has left Angel and company and is hiding out in Chicago. The Scoobies are scattered. When something starts going wrong with the slayers around the world, it's time to get the gang back together.

Masterlist & Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Cleveland, Ohio

Buffy woke up groggy. She was still in her bed. It was still dark outside. Her eyelids felt heavy as she squinted through the dim, struggling to focus. After a disorienting minute, she shook the fog from her head and glanced at her alarm clock resting on the nightstand, its only fixture. She had meant to decorate. She would....eventually.

The segmented, glowing red numbers on her alarm informed her it was four in the morning. That couldn't be right. Could it? Had she really only slept for an hour? Add sleep deprivation to the list. Whatever list that was. List of future problems maybe.

A light patter of rain beat down on the roof and decorated the windows with beads that shimmered with the occasional passing headlights. Buffy couldn't recall forecasting rain that night. It had been still and cloudless all night. Good patrol weather. A distant crack of thunder sounded and the windows vibrated softly. 

Buffy frowned as she swung her legs out of bed. When her bare feet hit the cold wooden floor she was irritated to notice a healthy coating of dirt scattered on the ground and clinging to her soles. She would have to clean it up later. It could wait. No way did she plan on going all vacuum crazy at four a.m. She wasn't that lost to reason.

The house rattled again with a closer shock of thunder as Buffy made her way downstairs. It was kind of nice. The storm. It broke up the quiet. Buffy reached the kitchen and snatched the kettle from the stovetop. She filled it with water without bothering to turn on the lights and switched the burner on. A quick cup of tea and then back to sleep. It was something her mom had done. If she woke up in the middle of the night restless, her mom would somehow know and... what did she say? She would say something. Buffy's hand slipped slightly and the kettle dropped the rest of the way to the burner. She jumped at the sudden noise just as some water that had spilled hissed against the now red hot grills. 

Buffy held a hand to her head and winced as she noticed a fresh bruise she didn't remember getting. She sighed as she rummaged through her cupboards looking for the box of tea bags. She didn't have to look too far. The cupboards were dangerously empty. A grocery run was definitely called for. The joys of living alone.

As she grabbed an old UC Sunnydale mug from the dish rack she noticed the answering machine was flashing green again. Another message. Someone needed to cut back on the caffeine. Then again, maybe it was Giles. Maybe the time was more reasonable in England. Buffy was too tired to think about the exact time difference. 

The tea kettle started whistling and Buffy redirected her attention, pulling the kettle off and fixing her cup of tea. She had never really liked tea. But her mom had drank it and Giles drank it and so it was just something she did now. She let the cup steep while she went to check her messages.

As she reached out her hand she noticed that her sleeve was torn. And it was her favorite shirt. Buffy picked at the ripped seam in the cute white top she had bought for Dawn's graduation. Her brows furrowed. Why had she worn it on patrol? She never wore it on patrol. She didn't wear it last night.

Buffy spun around, suddenly uneasy. But she heard nothing but the light taps of rain. The kitchen was dark and empty without barely even a slinking shadow. Moving quietly and deliberately, she made her way to every door in the house and checked the locks. Everything was locked, bolted, and chained. Just as she had left it. At least, she was pretty sure that was how she had left it. 

What was that thing her mom always said? Something to do with tea. Or had it been coffee? Hot chocolate? Something about tiny marshmallows?

A note a panic started to rise in the back of her mind, but it was impossible to pinpoint why. She made her way back to the answering machine and hit the button.

"Hey B," Faith's voice came through. "Look I-" Her voice cut off, then returned with a waver. "I don't know. There's just- something's wrong. I woke up in the cemetery last night. No idea how I got there. And you never got back to me... it's been a week. I need help. Call me."

Buffy's face paled and she staggered away from the phone. A week? A week since Faith called last. It couldn't be, she- 

She couldn't remember anything.

***

Chicago, Illinois

"Where's Willow?" Spike asked, more than a little irritated. "I'm sorry but your being on the case doesn't exactly strike me as reassuring. Where's the witch?"

Andrew had made himself comfortable on the one chair Spike owned. Bit of a cheeky bastard that one. Barging into someone's home and stealing his chair. Next thing he's gonna start raiding the fridge.

Andrew raised his hands. "Hey now, patience is a virtue."

"Don't have any virtues." Spike pressed off the wall and moved to grab his jacket.

Andrew gave another nervous grin. "Right. Well. She's in Cleveland. You know..." He seemed to struggle for words. "Working on it. It's a bit of a mess right now... well, everywhere."

Spike slung his coat on and began buckling his boots. "Does she know?"

"Willow?"

Spike looked up from what he was doing with a frown. "Buffy."

The name felt strange. He hadn't said it out loud in years. No one to say it to.

"None of them know what's happening," Andrew answered, his face darkening. "We haven't been able to risk informing them. At least, not yet."

Yet. Spike hated that word. Only reason to use it was to put off some horrible thing or another.

"Where's Giles? He have anything in that bookish brain of his that'll... help?" 

Andrew shook his head. "Not yet. But he's-"

"Workin' on it. Right," Spike finished, straightening up. "Guess it's time for a little field trip then."

Andrew's face brightened up. "Oh you're gonna love the car! It's got those special glass windows... you know so you don't turn into powder and all. And," he leaned in conspiratorially, "it's a total chick magnet."

Spike raised an eyebrow at him. "Right. So I guess it's just the burning dash to the car then. Brilliant." 

Spike grabbed Andrew by the collar and tossed him out of the chair towards the door. He stumbled a bit before catching himself on the door and shooting Spike an indignant look.

"Hey! That's Armani!" Andrew protested as he straightened his suit and walked up the stairs.

***

On the drive to Cleveland, Andrew had been able to more or less catch Spike up to speed on what they knew so far. The color commentary on his own life was a bit less than welcome, but Spike had refrained from socking him in the jaw so that was something.

So far, it seemed that slayers all over the world were having strange lapses in memory. It started with small things, forgetting they had called someone, forgetting to meet up for coffee. Small things. But lately, things had been getting significantly worse. Huge blocks of time - days, weeks, for some even months - had been lost. No one was sure why. The girls seemed more or less normal during the blackouts. As far as anyone could tell. But they had been getting more and more reports of the same phenomenon. Slayers were losing time. Andrew seemed cagey to say much more than that on the subject.

Willow was already in Cleveland where both Buffy and Faith were stationed. If something was going wrong with slayers, it seemed only logical that they'd both be feeling the effects. Although no one had been able to reach either of them for days.

Giles was already on a flight from London. Xander was apparently also on his way, not that Spike really gave a damn. Xander was all but useless in most cases. 

"So, anyone told Dawn?" Spike asked, breaking the silence that had fallen after Andrew had suggested a road game.

Andrew shook his head. Spike could almost say there was something like guilt there. 

"Why not?" Spike pressed. "Think she'd want to know if the big sis was in danger."

"Buffy didn't want Dawn involved in any of this stuff," Andrew replied. "We're just respecting her wishes."

"She's already involved," Spike muttered under his breath. "Not like there's an out for any of us now, is there?"

Andrew didn't respond to that last bit. Spike wasn't sure if he was just pretending he hadn't heard or if silence was his answer. Guess it was all the same.

The thought of seeing the gang again was... uncomfortable. He hadn't seen any of them besides Andrew since he had burned to ashes and been buried beneath the rubble of Sunnydale. They didn't know he was alive. She didn't know he was alive.

He had planned on telling her. Eventually. It just... he wasn't sure if fair was the right word. But it just didn't seem fair to barge back into her life. He was dead. They saved the world. He died. End of story. She was free to go off and live a semi-normal life with a normal guy. At least, that was the lie he told himself. The truth was always worse.

[back-and-totheleft]

“The Doors” Turns 30

Oliver Stone, 74, is seated for a Zoom interview at his home office in Los Angeles. He’s just finished reading an email proposing he direct a film about Led Zeppelin. “I don’t know much about them, frankly," Stone admits. "They were never really my band.” The Doors were his band. On March 1, 1991, the universe got its first look at The Doors — Stone's beautifully irrational biopic about the late '60s rock group led by Jim Morrison (played by Val Kilmer, then 31, amid a Method-acting spectacle). The result is an R-rated feast that acts as an extravagant rejection of puritanism and "Just Say No." It is campy, erotic, deeply disturbing and smoldering like a pagan bonfire.

On the occasion of its 30th anniversary, Stone talked to The Hollywood Reporter about the legacy of his film, psychedelics, Bohemian Rhapsody and Val Kilmer's masterclass as Hollywood's first and only Jim Morrison.

The cinematography in this film produces some astonishing eye candy.

We used a lot of filters. We had to go back into the past. We had everyone dressed in period, which was very expensive. We were also taking chances that we normally wouldn’t. We were growing in our boldness. We wanted to challenge all the ideas. We had no rules, no limits, no laws.

At least for my generation, the film has come to symbolize a darkly funny and dizzying parody of the “cock rocker.”

That was never my intention. I’m a little square, perhaps, for your taste, but I worshipped Morrison. I thought he was a great force breaking through to the other side. He was saying things that needed to be said. It was being said by others: Jefferson Airplane, The Beatles, and so on. But he was the only one that was really going into the erotica as much as he was. Of course, he talked about Indians, shamanism, but back then, we were coming out of the '50s. It was a very different time. He was liberated. He was sexy as a man. He felt at ease with himself. And he carried on as if he were a free man. I worshipped a free man. I’m actually one of the people who really likes his lyrics. Some people make fun of them.

The Doors feels like a rebuke of the Bush era and "Just Say No." Was Morrison acting as your mouthpiece when he was screaming at us that we were all "a bunch of slaves?"

Yes. The things I say sometimes don’t go down so well. But I don’t agree with so much of what’s going down. I still don’t. I haven’t changed. If anything, I’m worse. His timing may have been off when he said, “You’re all a bunch of slaves.” He was a philosopher.

Critics focused on the lack of historical realism in this film. But it’s a fantasy. Morrison himself was a kind of myth-maker. What do you think is rooted in the obsession for realism in a film about Jim Morrison?

By this time, I had been taking so much flak. I don’t mean to self-pity, but my God, I had just done Born on the Fourth of July, Talk Radio and Wall Street. I was exhausted by trying to be realistic. This was freedom. It was like tearing your clothes off and breathing. It was about going out and having fucking fun making a movie. After JFK and Heaven & Earth, I did Natural Born Killers. Again, I wanted to be free. I get off on those films.

I first discovered this film as a teenager. It somehow captured rock 'n' roll at its purest.

Thank you. I didn’t really have the connection to music that other people had. A lot of filmmakers study music. I didn’t. I just followed a god that I liked. You see, I heard him in Vietnam for the first time. I was doing LSD on R&R [rest and recuperation] — not in the field — but we were discovering LSD and realizing you really had to pay attention. Morrison had done enough LSD to really understand it. It’s a powerful consciousness journey. I never stopped. I kept going in that direction with all kinds of drugs.

Did you experiment with any psychedelics while you were making this film?

I was high, in a sense, by osmosis, but I had the attitude to just free your ass and your mind will follow. I think people would say I was pretty wild as a director. But I was not getting high on the set. Yeah, the occasional grass here and there, but I wouldn’t do anything on the set. Off the set, I had some fun. I had a friend, Richard [Rutowski], who played Death in the film. I wanted to go back to South Dakota, with the Sioux, and do this peyote ceremony with a very powerful shaman. And we did it. We got to this place on the reservation and got fucking high beyond belief. It was a big trip. A lot of Indians were involved. Strong peyote. And then we flew back. I was dead on Monday morning when we shot the peyote scene. I had no energy as a director.

What were some of the political challenges involved in making this film?

I guess I didn’t know the barriers back then. Paul Rothchild [the band’s producer] was a key figure. He was with us all the way. I never got that from the bandmates. They didn’t seem to know him that well. Certainly Ray Manzarek thought he knew him. Ray did not cooperate in any way. In fact, it was a very disagreeable relationship for me. And of course, when the movie came out, boy, he was tearing it down from the beginning.

I found Ray Manzarek accusing you of “assassinating” the character of Jim Morrison to be pretty remarkable. I honestly don’t think anyone knew the real Jim Morrison (not even Manzarek).

Jerry Hopkins, who wrote the book [No One Here Gets Out Alive, 1980] left me 120 documents of interviews he did with people who knew Morrison in the beginning, from grade school to the very end. And if you read these 120 versions of his life, it’s like Citizen Kane. That’s what he was to this person or that person. In the interviews, there were several women, my God, sexually, he was all over the place. He wasn’t necessarily impotent. Perhaps that occurred later, when there were issues — which did bother him. But you saw in the loft scene with Kathleen Quinlan, when he has an orgasm. And that’s the truth of the matter, he had orgasms with intensity that came from intense situations. That was the only way he could get off — dangling from a window may have worked for him.

Morrison seems like the original “cock rocker.” I think he understood that he was a sex symbol.

Well, they made him a sex symbol. Part of the reason he started drinking was to probably run from that. He was not comfortable with publicity. I do believe he was inherently shy. Girls would come at him, and according to Paul [Rothchild], he ended up talking to them all night. He loved women. He talked them to death. But it wasn’t about sex. It was about something in his mind he had to work out. He was running toward death.

He was a sex symbol who was said to have been impotent. He seemed to be struggling with some kind of imposter syndrome. Was he crucifying himself?

I do believe there was a lot of self-hatred. He’s a deep man. If you really want to know him, look at the lyrics. There’s a lot of depth there that people often miss.

JFK (1991) provides a panorama of possibilities regarding the JFK assassination. With this film, you end with Morrison in a bathtub under a kind of amber glow. We don’t know what has happened to him. He’s just beautiful and dead. Were you trying to leave the cause of his death open to interpretation?

It didn’t make any difference to me if he was on heroin or not. In the movie, you have to assume he was. But he was half in love with death all his life. An American Prayer is filled with images of death. I don’t think Morrison made the normal difference between life and death. It was a boundary that he crossed many times. He was ready for death. I found the scene tranquil. Like the ancient Romans cutting their wrists, I didn’t see the fear of death in him. As a shaman, he saw it as a transition to continue life in another form. I would have loved to see him survive Paris. I think he died by accident. I do feel it was an overdose of something. I do feel like he was doing it to accompany somebody he cared about. I think his plan was to come back and be a writer. I think he would have been a really interesting writer and philosopher for American society into the '80s, '90s and even today. He got robbed early.

Looking back at his phenomenal performance, do you feel Val Kilmer was snubbed for an Oscar nomination that year?

I do feel he was slighted. It was a once-in-a-lifetime kind of performance. I certainly know the pain and the sweat he put into it. But I kind of knew The Doors was doomed because of the hijinks Morrison was going through. In other words, it was a crossing-the-line kind of movie. It’s become more acceptable now. But this is 1991. You gotta look back. Certainly Val deserved it, but also the sound: There were so many sound breakthroughs and editing breakthroughs in that movie. We were using some new methods. The sound work by Paul Rothchild and that group was unbelievable. The fact that Val was singing about 70 percent of his stuff was pretty significant.

I feel like a lot of today’s rock biopics, like Bohemian Rhapsody, are pretty sterile. They feel more like marketing films.

I don’t want to be negative on that. I wish we had made the money Bohemian Rhapsody had made. Look, every film has to be marketable. The Doors was not. We just made an outlaw film because [producer] Mario Kassar was out of his mind. He was willing to gamble. He didn’t give a shit about all that stuff. He was a pirate. He made films against the grain.

In the final shot at Père Lachaise cemetery, we zoom in to a bust of Jim Morrison placed on his gravestone. It’s a beautiful documentary-style shot scored to “A Feast of Friends.” It really takes us to the end. Wasn’t the bust stolen in 1988?

It was. The bust was our creation. It was based on Kilmer and not on Jim. But what the press never seems to understand when they describe it as a “rise and fall” is that he wasn’t falling. He was moving through life as an explorer. Some of his best work is in [1978's posthumously released L.P.] An American Prayer and [1971's] L.A. Woman. I didn’t see the decline. I guess what I’m saying is that you don’t die when you’re Jim Morrison, you just move on.

-Art Tevana, “Oliver Stone Recalls 'Doors' Inspiration as Jim Morrison Biopic Turns 30,” The Hollywood Reporter, Mar 11 2021 [x]

[nobelmemories]

                 More Nobel Memories

                 Along The Nobel Road

                                   Part XI

           Some time has passed since I last contributed any stories or memories for your enjoyment. Recent articles I have read have encouraged me to do so. It must be remembered that my memories are mine and although they might not be totally accurate they are as I remember and perceive them.

           I always have to laugh when I think of my mother’s stories. One thing I always believed was that my mother would not lie. However? She lived to be a month short of 95 years and chose to leave on her terms. In her mind, people had started living forever, and she didn’t like it.  She did not retire from nursing until she was 69 yrs. In her later years she did a lot of travelling. She travelled to England where she was born and visited Buckingham Palace and seen the changing of the guard. She also went to Rome and visited the Vatican square and seen the Pope address his flock from his balcony. She travelled to many other countries as well. I remember one day, after retiring she told me she would really like to travel but did not want to spend her money. My reply to her was: No don’t travel, save your money because when you pass Deane and I are going to have a ball. For some reason she started travelling shortly afterwards. The stories kind of changed in the last year or so of her life. She had particular stories that would be triggered by the time of day of some other daily event. The story about visiting Buckingham Palace became when I met the Queen. The trip to Rome involved an audience with the Pope. Now I have long realized that this is normal and happens as we age and when we change the story slightly this is just normal. It is real and true in this storyteller’s mind. So be forewarned. I will be 85 years in just a few months.

                                    Champlain’s Cup

            Both Nobel and Parry Sound lie within McDougall Township. There are so many historical things that have happened here that we are all part of. One story that my dad first told me about involved the Little family who had a farm in McDougall Township off the Hurdville Road. There are many of their descendants living in McDougall and Mckellar and Carling Townships to this day. The old Little farm was located on Trout Lake. It was part of the old Portage Trails the Natives travelled to and from the Georgian Bay and up the Seguin River System. The story as first told to me by my father was that the Little’s had been clearing land when they discovered a cup in the roots of an upturned tree. He referred to the cup as Champlain’s Cup. In years since then I have been told that Nathaniel Little found the cup in 1870, 23 years before my dad was born. It was in the roots of an up-turned tree. It actually was a bronze French apothecary’s mortar weighing 16 Kg. It bore the date 1636. It would appear that the Mortar was left by some travellers, however I think we can pretty easily rule out Samuel Champlain as he lived between August 17,1567 and December 25, 1635.

            It has never been established for sure, just where this Mortar came from, however the following theories have been suggested. The old explorers were known to leave a marker when they discovered a new place or country. The idea was that they could say they were there and could prove it by telling what they had left and where to find it. Such was the case when the astronauts landed on the moon and left the American Flag. As most people realize a mortar and pestle are used to make medicine. There is a mineral in the area that the natives use to grind up and make an ointment to treat skin disease. They passed on many of their secrets to the missionaries. The Missionaries from the Midland area were known to travel up and down the Georgian Bay exploring. One of these persons was a donne’ (a support person to the missionaries), he was a medical doctor from France. His name was Francois Gendron.

The theory was that he either took the mortar with him when he was exploring or retreating from the Iroquois and placed it where it was found.  It is also a known that Father Bre’beuf travelled this area in 1645 and visited an area called Tangouaen, which means “In site of the falls or rapids. The place where the mortar was found was on a portage around a waterfalls.  NOTE: The forgoing theory was copied from the Internet.

            It is said that the Mortar was subsequently purchased from Nathaniel  Little by William Beatty who kept it in their company vault. The Beatty family subsequently placed the mortar in the Canadian Museum of Civilization, across the river from Ottawa. This is a little bit of local history that kind of affects all of us. If you are not a Little and have been in the area any length of time you at least know a Little.

                                          The Lumsden’s

            James Lumsden was one of the original homesteaders to the Township of McDougall. If one looks at the Guide Book & Atlas of Muskoka and Parry Sound Districts dated 1879 and the maps produced by J. Rogers. You will see that most township maps are laid out having an approximate ¼ mile width, in the Township of McDougall. Those along the shore of Georgian Bay have a broken frontage and are laid out having the length in an East West direction. What became the Lumsden Farm consisted of Lots 3,4,5,6 Concession A. Lot No. 3 bears the name D.L.Corbiere, Lot 4 J. Lumsden, Lot 5 D.E. Corbiere, Lot 6 Jas. Lumsden. The abutting lots to the east run with the length to the north and south. Lots 28 & 29 Concession IX bears the name George Hunt.  When I was a very young boy Lots 3 to 6 Concession A were mostly owned by Dave Lumsden, James’s son. While lots 28 & 29 were mostly owned by Arthur Wright. There were some small parcels that were sold to people to build their homes on.

           There is a small cemetery located off Nobel Road just to the south side of the Esso property. It is referred to as the Lumsden Cemetery. To get an idea how these Lumsden lots ownership eventually evolved you have to view these markers. One marker was for James Lumsden died February 15,1875 age 63 years Husband of Elizabeth Corbiere. One marker was for Elizabeth Corbiere died September 24,1897 62 years. One marker was James Lumsden son of Elizabeth and James Lumsden died 18 July 1875 age 17 years. There was one marker for Mary E. Wright wife of J.D. Lumsden born 1861 died 1948. There was no marker for J.D. Lumsden however I remember both J.D. (Dave) Lumsden and his wife Elizabeth. Dave was another son of James Lumsden and Elizabeth Corbiere. Just going by my memory, I believe Dave died around the late forties. I think he also is buried in this cemetery. I remember Elizabeth as a small frail lady who had a very kind heart.

            I was told that Elizabeth was a sister to Art Wright who owned the farm at the edge of Portage Lake. Art’s house and farm buildings were located to the east of the side road that ran behind the Esso and Tim Horton’s. This was the original road as shown on the old township of McDougall map. Art’s house was approximately where Gary Barager’s house is now. I have faint memories of Art Wright, as being a small wiry man. I don’t remember his wife, although I know my parents talked kindly about her. Art Wright had three fields that he worked. One was between Nobel Road and the old side road where the Esso and Tim Horton’s and the Motel were later situated. One was to the east of the original side road that ran behind the Municipal buildings and Pineridge Drive. It was parallel to the road on the east side down His third field was behind where Gary Barager’s house was a short road towards the water.

           In about 1932 my Dad, Sid Crawford purchased five acres from Dave Lumsden. This parcel of land was bound by the old Nobel Road, which lies behind the Municipal buildings on the east, Pineridge Drive on the north, the extension road that lined up with Hammel Ave on the west and the present road going into the Township Office. Highway 69 now Nobel Road cut across this property at an angle on the front corner. Dad built the house that is presently occupied by Lemore Johnston in 1932. There was a summer kitchen on the back of our house. (A shed that was used to cook in when we had warm summer weather.) The kitchen stove was wood heated and had one of those warming closets on top and a tank you filled with water on the right side, It was a Findlay.

           I remember the stove well due to a life lesson. One time we were having supper in the dining room. We were served blue berry pie for desert. I think I got it in my head that my brother Deane got a bigger piece of pie than I. At any rate I left the table in anger, stormed out of the house and slammed the door. It was obviously too hard, because the 2’x 2’ glass that was in the upper part of the door kept on going and fell in many pieces all over the kitchen floor.

           Now my mother was the disciplinarian in our house. I think I can count on one hand the number of times my father ever laid a hand on me. This time it was a little different. I heard a loud bellow. GARRY GET BACK IN HERE. I walked back into the house, probably a little sheepishly. I had a smirk on my face. I walked right up to Dad and I guess it was a little too much for him. He hit me on the side of the head with an open hand. I did a flip in the air and ended up on the floor in front of the stove. I was a little shook-up, I looked up and all I could see was FINDLAY, which was stamped below the oven.  (I have attached a photo so you can remember this lesson whenever you see an old wood-burning kitchen stove.) It was about that time I got my wits about me and decided I had better leave for a time. I write this with tongue in cheek and take full responsibility. I have nothing but love for my dad.

           There were two items in that summer kitchen that I remember. One was a coal oil or kerosene stove range. It looked just like the picture I have attached, accept the oil container was clear glass in ours. You would fill the container with oil then turn it upside down into the holder. As you can see there was a little door in the front of the blue chimneys, you would open this door and see a circular wick similar to a lamp wick that you would light. There was a control below the chimney that allowed you to control the wick and thus the heat. I have attached a picture of a stove similar to mothers.

           The second thing I remember being in the summer kitchen was an old galvanized rocker washing machine. Mother would usually put the wood stove on to heat the water for washing. She would take the warm water from the copper boiler on the stove and the boiler in the stove for the washing machine. She used Naptha soap, anything that was particularly stained; she would first give a little scrubbing on the washboard. Then put it in the rocker washer. She had a square of bluing that she quite often put in with the white clothes and sometimes boiled them in the copper boiler. Coloured clothes were done separate to whites. Then the handle was rocked until she felt the clothes were well washed. We had an old hand pump in the kitchen from which mother would get the water, pumping it in from the well in our field. She had a stand, which she would put beside the rocker washer and put a large round galvanized tub on. This would be filled with cold water. Once the washing in the rocker washing machine was complete, she would put the clothes through a wooden wringer that attached to the side of the rocker and dropped the clothes into the tub of cold water. They were then rinsed, put back through the wringer again and were ready to be hung on the line. The clothes line was out behind our woodshed and had a 4’ stand she would climb up on. She still liked to use that in the summer time when she was in her 80’s. In the early years she had clothespins that were made out of a single piece of wood, but she eventually had the modern clothespins with a spring in them. I have attached a picture of a rocker washing machine similar to mothers.

           Around 1946 father and mother decided to put an addition on the back of the house to replace the summer kitchen. Dad had been a teamster prior to his marriage. He had started working in the logging camps when he was 14 and had made at least ten seasonal trips out west on the Harvest Train. He loved horses and was a friend of Dave Lumsden who had a couple of teams of horses. Dad would quite often look after these animals. He borrowed one of Dave Lumsden’s teams and a scraper. I have a very clear memory of his digging out a hole for the basement of that addition. I have found a picture of a horse drawn scraper that was similar to the one Dad used and have attached it. The one in the picture is missing the handles, which would be in the round tubes you can see in the picture. The teamster would have the reins to the horses crossed behind his neck, one hand controlling each of the handles. He would have the horses move forward with audio messages. Gidup, ( I don’t remember ever hearing get up.) haw or gee, being left or right. He would lift on the handles causing the scraper to dig in and fill the scrapper. He would then push back down on the handles as they moved forward stopping the scrapper from digging in. The horses would move forward or out of the hole where the teamster would give a lift upwards on the handles causing the scrapper to dig in, flip and dump the load of earth. The teamster would then drive the team around in a circle and take the next load of earth out. Dad eventually completed pouring the basement walls and floor. He was raised on a farm in Hurdville and was a rough carpenter. Dad then proceeded to build a story and a half addition that matched the front part of the house. I remember I was around ten that year. I was helping Dad put the shingles on the roof. The second story had a hip type roof at the ceiling line of the first floor, then a vertical wall and the main roof about four feet above that. I was laying shingles on the top roof and Dad was finishing up the hip about a 4’ drop below me. I suddenly started to slide, fell off the upper roof down to the roof that Dad was working on. I just had a pair of pants on but no shirt. As I slid past Dad and went over the edge, he reached out quickly and locked his fingers into the soft flesh of my lower side. I continued off the roof and he held on. I remember hanging there squealing like a pig, for a second or so before he lifted me back up to the level he was at. Dad calmed me down and we continued laying the shingles. Dad proceeded to finish the house then built a complete set of kitchen cupboards without any power tools. In later years when I thought back I was always so proud of him, you see he only had grade three education. His father passed when he was very young and he had six siblings. He assumed the father figure and was the last to marry. He was able to earn his third class Stationary Engineer’s papers and obtained a job in the Power House at CIL, where he worked for 24 years.  The biggest regret I have to this day is that I never really expressed to him how very proud I was of what he accomplished in his life. He passed in 1967.

           I have attached a picture of my mother and father’s house as it sits today. I am afraid I got a little carried away on my story and will have to continue my memories of the Lumsden’s in my next submission Part XII.

           Anyone wishing to read my previous submissions can find them at the following URL:  <https://nobelmemories.tumblr.com>

>

[peanutbutterisland-blog]

Black Mafia - short story

Black Mafia- also in archives 

This is a fictional story written by Owami Jackson. Leave all assumptions and expectations at the door, welcome to a world inhabited by a few and run by many.

Chapter 1- Welcome to the Mafia

It is said that a city is the representation of its people, the rougher the edges the more connected the people and non could be  truer than the city of Fermount USA. It was a large industrial city, built on the backs of black Americans who had settled on the land after the emancipation act was introduced. The businesses were family owned and the community was forged together by hard labor and a deep engraved mantra for ‘fuck the man’ but this city was not backwards thinking at all,  it was 1970 and the world was changing and so was the city of Fermount. Throughout 1970 to 1975 the city came alive, with buildings being erected everyday, and in time the city lit up with new opportunities, clubs, hotels, stadiums and restaurants grew over night like wild mushrooms and one family struck while the iron was hot.

With every building that was erected in Fermount the Washington family had their hands in its creation. A prominent black family that had its soul engraved in Fermount, the family was so big that they inhabited both the East and West of the city and within the inner city is where they flourished. They owned every club and large property within the inner city or at-least had their hands in it. They grew there money from organized crime in the early 60s and invested it in the city of Fermount, they had close affiliations to the Mayor and governor of Fermount and where respected and feared within the city. With such a large family there had to be a large patriarch and his name was Luis Washington or better known as Father. He was the head of the family and all operations of the family business. He was a large man who had a lot of love and was fierce when he needed too Be. With everything that he had built he was most proud of his family, his eldest son, Rahim Washington was the next in line for the family business and he loved him dearly, he had a second son Sammy Washington who was always eager to learn the business and had his fathers ferocious temper. He also had twin daughters who ran his heart, he was married to his wife Debra for over 34 years and she was the only person who could calm Freddy down, she ran everything associated with the families money, dirty or clean.

It was a night filled with excitement in the Washington family household, uncles filled the air with inappropriate chatter, drinks flowed faster than a cheap bar and all women whether old or young where in the kitchen. Rahim was in his room trying out different leather jackets and awkwardly pacing up and down the room, he was nervous and exited, he sat on the edge of his bed and waited for the call. 5 minutes later his dad knocked on his door and summoned him down stairs, he came down and everyone was waiting for him. He gave his mom and sisters a kiss and was greeted by stern handshakes by his uncles. All the males in the family got in their bus sized Cadillac's and drove in a concubine to the cities oldest cemetery in the outskirts of the city. The cemeteries silence was pierced by a loud ruckus of cars. Out came large bellied men with hard liquor in their hands all jolly which was a contrast to where they where at. They all circled around the largest tombstone in the cemetery, it was the tombstone of the first patriarch of the family, William Washington who started the family business and created a lineage of men who would do great things for the city. Rahim was brought to the front of the tombstone, he said his respects and drinks where spilled on the floor out of respect. His dad came forward with a knife, asked for Rahims right hand. Visibly nervous Rahim put out his hand. “Rahim as you do this you not only represent the family, you not only represent the great men who came before you, you not only pledge with blood your loyalty to the family, you do this for your kids and grand kids and kids after that so they can look back and learn about your bravery. This is the proudest day of my life, I am not a man of many words so I will just say God bless your journey and welcome to the mafia” his father cut his hand and Rahim let the blood drip onto his great great grandfathers tombstone, a loud cheer was heard and the family guns blasted the cold night sky, Rahim was now a member of the most notorious Mafia in the world.

Chapter 2- Family First

Autumn had come with all its orange splendor, the trees had ruffles of hazel and the roads where littered with leaves that had fallen to their death from skyscrapers of oak trees. The city of Fermount was cold all year round, even when seasons changed they really didn’t change and on this chilly day on a lonely road a black Cadillac cruised through the outskirts of the city, Rahim had just gotten his license but he had been driving cars ever since he turned 5. In the passenger seat was his best friend of almost 22 years Owen Rochester. Rahim and Owens mothers meet in the hospital while giving birth to them. They where in the same ward and development a keen friendship. Owens father was a drug addict who would hop in and out of his life. He had not seen him in about ten years and frankly he didn’t even care, Owen and his mother where considered apart of the Washington family and lived a street away from each other, birthdays, graduations, funerals and dinners where all spent together. Owen was a brother to Rahim and as much as he didn’t want to admit it Rahim saw him as a better brother to him than his own younger brother Sammy was.

“So how was the induction?” Asked Owen. “It was good” Rahim answered.

“Just good?”

“Yeah it was good what else do you want me too say”

“I don’t know you’ve been talking about this shit since you where ten years old I don’t know I’m expecting a bigger reaction than just good you know?”

“You know how dad is with this whole family shit”

“Negro I am family”

Silence held the air for a while, Unable to contain the excitement Rahim squeezed the rubber steering wheel and burst into a whole monologue about how the night went and how he was now apart of the family business. Owen knew he wouldn’t be able to keep it away from him, the family kept their business hidden from everyone including old friends but Rahim and Owens bond was so intact they shared everything together.  

“So you really not doing this college thing huh?” Asked Owen.

“Don’t see how’d it help me when I’m already set you feel me?”

“I get you man, I’m not even tripping, guess I’ll have to get all this collage ass by myself “ Owen replied

“Now you know your ugly ass ain’t getting no ass”

They both laughed and talked about their love lives and how they want families in the future. They pulled into a field, everywhere you looked was just filled with green, sheep’s grazed robotically and farmers yoked bulls up and down the green sea, ploughing away harvest for the city. They drove even further into an abounded farm next to a hill, they got out the car and had a smoke

“Gets colder every time we come up here” Owen said

“Get me the fuck outta here I can’t even feel my balls” Rahim said.

“I don’t know man I’d move here” Owen said. Owen always wanted the simple life, he was never in any drama and barely had a temper. This was not to say he was not about to jump into the front lines of war if need but when it came down to it he saw himself retiring as a carpenter on a farm somewhere. Rahim had different prospects, his always been intrigued about how the world works, who had the most power and what that power could do.

“Let’s hurry up maybe if we drop 120 on the way back we’ll make it back in time for the game” Rahim said

“Isn’t Jacky Robinson on the field today?” Owen asked

“Yeap”

“That’s one bad brother, running a mud hole on all those white boys”

They both opened the doors of the back of the car, they grabbed two shovels, went to the trunk of the car, opened it up and a bloody naked man in tears was in the back. They got him out and proceeded to walk him to the top of the hill, when they got there they dug a deep enough hole to fit a man of his size in it, they removed the tape from his mouth and he started begging to be let go and ranted every prayer he could remember

“Please Rahim I’ve known you since you where a kid how can you do this to me”

“This is what happens when you steal from our clubs you fat fuck” Rahim replied

He continued to beg and plead till Owen kicked him into the hole they had dug

“Any last words old man” Owen asked

The man cried and started praying in mumbles and piss ran down his leg.

Rahim and Owen both unloaded shots from their guns, buried him and hit the road to make it back for the game.

Chapter 3- Cindy Jackson

Rahim knew how powerful his family was, every cop, jury and judge where in their pockets, every club was owned or invested by them, they had built schools and grocery stores in every part of the city and they had been apart of the rise of Fermounts industrial complex since its birth. Rahim was greeted with respected every he went whether it be clubs or coffee shops but he truly discovered the power his family held when his father asked him to tag along with him to the mayors office in the early hours of the morning. They both wore their best suits and where driven to the capital to meet the mayor. Mr Luis Washington had been dealing with the mayors of the city of Fermount  ever since he was put in charge of the family business, this was nothing new to him. The mayor knew that the Washington family where involved in some illegal dealings but they kept a pampered hand on the family because of all the money they funded to the city. They got to the Mayors house in the upper scale of Fermount, it was where old money came to retire and still had a prestige to it, the Washington’s,  as wealthy as they where, were still looked down upon by the upper echelon of white American liberals. Rahim sensed this when he was greeted by the mayors butler who almost seemed to refuse to give him a handshake, Rahim being the spiteful type, grabbed his hand, pulled his arm in and gave him a great big hug. The mayors house was big but not as big as the Washington’s, this alone showed the power dynamic between politics and the mafia. They where greeted by the mayor himself coming down a long flight of stairs, an elderly white man, with whisks of grey hair in a brown jersey, work pants and black shoes. Rahim stayed back and watched his father converse to the mayor about everything from family life to sports. His father introduced Rahim to the mayor, pleasantries where made with his wife and children and they all sat around the table and talked about the state of the city, later on into the evening the mayor asked Rahim and his father to join him in his office, he poured both men his prized aged whiskey and they toasted to prosperity and that the Bulldogs winning the state final.

“So Rahim your father tells me you’re apart of the family business now”

“Yessir”

“I thought you’d take a liking to politics”

“No sir, that’s way too gangster for me”

There was a slight silent stand still in the room until it was broken by the Mayors laughter.

“Listen boys we have ourselves a big problem here in the beautiful city of Fermount and we need your families help, our piping systems are beginning to rust out, now with what my team is telling me they will ride us out into late October 1980 but after that, the water will be contaminated by the rust and I don’t need to tell you how much of a mess that is, the government implements new piping every 5 years and basically swap the rusty shit underground with new rusty shit which is a waste of money for them, for us and most importantly for me”

“So what’s your proposal mayor?” Rahim asked

“I see we have a eager one here Lewi, anyways New Guinea has a large steel capital, and these mother fuckers pump out steal day and night, I was thinking you boys can go out there, gather up all that steal and bring it down here with all your connections to ports and what not, we will brand the steal tubes and chuck them underground, now because they are slightly cheaper, and I mean cheap cheap boys, we would be making a large amount of money when the government gives us the grant to put in new steel pipes for the city and even bigger money when we sell those pipes to buyers overseas which you boys have such good connections with”

“I see” Mr Luis said

“ So with all the risk that we will have to carry I’m assuming our cut will be slightly larger than yours and your partners?”

“Well I’ll have to speak to my partners about that My boy” the mayor said

Rahim had not heard anyone call his dad “a boy” and was expecting him to leap over the table and ring the mayors head till he choked out and ran out of oxygen but he knew his dad was calm and could separate business and disrespect.

They left the Mayors house at midnight and spoke about the meeting, Rahims dad told him that he would be responsible for this project and over see everything, this was the most responsibility his dad had ever given him and he did not want to let him down

3 months passed and the project was underway, Rahim, his best friend Owen and his little brother Sammy headed for New Guinea, the minute they hoped out the airport they where meet with the islands warm intense weather, nothing they had ever experienced in the cold old city of Fermount. For the past three weeks they would be delegating with the government of New Guinea and setting plans for the exporting of 67 thousand tons of steel pipes and tubing. In the day Rahim went from meeting to meeting making connections along the way and going to mines with Owen, his brother Sammy spent his time banging different prostitutes in his hotel room and going into the islands club scenes, in his mind he was there for a vacation since he felt that his father didn’t trust him with this project. Rahim and Sammy fought a lot almost on the verge of killing each other but they where family and there was nobody you could trust more than your family. On the 2nd week Rahim had had enough of the meetings and decided to go into the market to witness the vibrant culture of the island, Owen decided to stay in and only God knew where Sammy was, as he was in the fruit aisle he saw a girl with large frizzy dark hair. He walked closer and was meet with the most sculpted face of beauty he had ever seen, he offered to help her with her grocery bags. She refused at first but he persisted until she couldn’t fight anymore. As they walked to her car he asked what she was doing in New Guinea but she was dismissive of the question, when they got to the car she realized that some local criminals where trying to steel her hub caps, Rahim dropped the bag and chased after them, tripped one of the criminals and punched his face in, he was able to get away and Rahim ran back to check on the beautiful women he had left behind.

“Are you crazy you could’ve gotten hurt!” she yelled

Rahim smiled and said “So you where worried about me?”

She smiled and said

“My name is Cindy, Cindy Jackson thank you for your help”

“Nice to meet you Cindy Jackson my name is Rahim Washington”

“I’m sorry I was a bit dismissive back there I don’t really know anyone here so you know, always keep your guard up” she said

“I get that, by the tied hair bun and medical supplies I’m assuming you’re apart of the UNICEF relief aid here in beautiful New Guinea?”

She laughed and answered“yes, yes I am, and I’m assuming your some rich business man here for business purposes”

“You can say something like that, so when you’re not saving kids where do you like to have fun”

“Well I’m going to the beach party at about 7, I don’t know if you’ll be there”

“Trust me, anywhere you are I’ll always be there”

They meet later on that evening at the beach party and Rahim introduced him to Owen. They danced and drank the whole night, the next day they walked around the plaza together and talked about everything

“So I’m leaving next week and you’re pretty busy here so when will I see you again” Rahim asked

“I’m leaving in 5 weeks and going back to school in Texas”

“So we’ll meet in Texas then?”

“Wait you’d actually come to Texas just for lil old me”

“Ma’am where ever you go from this point on I will follow till death”

She gave him her address and phone number and after a successful first meeting in New Guinea the boys jumped onto a flight back to the cold embrace of the city of Fermount. 5 weeks passed and Rahim flew to Texas to meet Cindy, they meet at a cafè and before they could say anything Rahim kissed her infront of the whole café.

“Well that’s one hell of a first kiss Mr Washington”

“It thought we should skip the small talk you know?”

They spent the summer together switching from Texas and Fermount, they meet each others families and in the summer of 1978 Rahim proposed to Cindy in her hometown and they moved to Fermount to start their lives together.

Chapter 4- We own this town

Houston Texas is bigger than the church hats mothers and aunties wear every Sunday in this deeply cultural piece of America. Everything is designed to pull you in like a gravitational force, the word subtle is not known in Houston. The restaurants and diners have food that would feed a whole village, the roads are wider to make way for every 20 year olds pimped out Cadillac. The women are chiseled from Gods personal special chisel, never lacking frame or body, it’s as if They were designed just to be looked at. There are churches in every corner of the town and the sun bullies the sky 20 hours of the day. Rahim always found it weird that Cindy would come from such a bombastic state. She was timid and slender, she never said a lot and when she did her voice was softer than the rustling leaves in the fall but her eyes held all the attitude that the state came with. She could look at you for a second and draw your attention from a mile away, she had the most generous heart it was almost bigger than her frizzy dark hair. Rahim had fallen in love with her all over again when he saw her walk down the aisle. The wedding came with all the dramatics of a church charity function, flights where delayed, uncles came from each direction with tales of their conquest and hard bottles of liquor, The Washington family alone came with about 200 people, each flying down from Fermount or driving. Weddings, baptisms and funerals where compulsory for the family and this was no ordinary wedding, it was the wedding of the future Patriarch of the family. Fermount was too cold to have such a joyous celebration and whether Rahim liked it or not Cindy held all the power of where the wedding was gonna take place. It took 7 months of planning and all the money invested into it you would think they where building a new club but this had to be huge, the Washington’s believed that a man only gets married once. The wedding drew mayors, delegates, owners of banks in both Houston and Fermount, baseball players and mobsters from all around the country. It was a 3 day festival with enough alcohol to fill the Nile and enough food to feed two starving countries. After the wedding Cindy and Rahim headed to Fermount where a 8 room mansion was eating for them, bought of-course by the Washington’s, 3 cars and  even a liltle puppy, life was blissful.

Winter had hit Fermount and it was colder than ever, the lake had frozen over, the trees where naked and everybody was inside. Not the mob though, trucks still moved city to city, clubs still operated and Rahim was busy delegating the implementation of putting in new metal tubes in the city. It was 3 years since Rahim stepped foot in New Guinea and it seemed like the project took years to get started but they where at the final stretch and money flooded in like well.. a flood. It was 7:30 in the evening and Rahim had just got back home. He shouted Cindys name and she answered, she was in the kitchen, Cindy was a genius in the kitchen. She spent her day working as a doctor in Fermounts top ranked private hospital and her nights going on romantic adventures with Rahim, He loved the fact that she was an all round working women. All the women he was used too including his mother had only been housewives. Rahim would get home, change, help Cindy in the kitchen and they would have diner and talk about the day and listen to records near the fire place with a glass of wine. Rahim was planning to do just that but as he was about to give Cindy a kiss he got a call, he went into the living room and picked up the telephone, it was his dad. His father never called unless it was something about business or family. Rahim knew it was important by the sound of his dads voice, he could always tell his dads mood by the sound of his voice and his dad was worried. He grabbed another leather jacket and leather gloves and jumped into his car. The house he grew up in was just a 15 minute drive. He got there in record time , kissed and hugged his mother and sisters, his brother was watching the reruns of the game, he was about to head out as well, they nodded at each other

“Where’s dad?”

“Where he always is”

Rahim went down to the office and found his dad in a dimly lit room smoking on a cigar.

“Hey pops”

“Hey, Rahim”

They gave each other a hug and took a seat

“How’s the wife?”

“You know still giving me orders”

Mr Washington laughed

“I’m waiting for my grandkids Rahim”

“I’m working on it dad”

“You better, I have a lot of spoiling to do before I leave this earth”

“You’ll be here for a long time old man”

They both took a sip of whiskey and with a heavy sigh Mr Washington reveled that his brother has been stealing from the family And selling critical information to the FBI.

“I can’t do it Rah, he’s my brother”

“Have you told anyone else”

“Only your mom knows”

“Fuck! His my uncle pops”

“I know”

“So you want me to off him”

“No! He’s family, he’s my brother, I’ll need you to take those brief cases, they have 500 thousand dollars, tell him to leave this city and never look back, he knows his family will be safe”

“I got you”

Rahim got in the car and decided to do it in the same night so he could get the weight off his shoulders, while driving to his uncles house he couldn’t believe that his uncle would do that, his own flesh and blood. He could see how broken his dad was, while Rahim went to deliver the news and brief cases to his uncle his dad went to the baptist church house, he always went at this time, he would just sit at the back of the church, say a little prayer and go back home, he believed he had done to many evil things to sit any closer. Rahim got to his uncles house greeted all his nephews and asked his uncle if they could take a drive around the block for some liquor cause he felt disrespectful coming into the house with nothing in his hands, he also didn’t want to tell him the news where anybody could get the chance of hearing. They went to the local liquor store, and when they came back into the car, before he could start the car he told him why he came to see him

“You dare accuse me of betraying the family you little shit stick”

“Dad sent me here Unc”

“Tell my fucking brother to come see me himself and not send his little fuck head of a son too send me a message”

“You broke him Unc, you broke us”

The car was silent until Rahims uncle asked

“So is that why you’re here with that briefcase, you want me to leave my family”

“We’ll give you time to say goodbye but you have to leave before the rest of the family hears about this”

“All the shit I did for this fucked up family and this is how you thank me! I gave my heart into this business, before you could even walk I was in the front lines of war and what do I get, FUCKING NOTHING! Your father does deals with presidents and what do I get nothing no appreciation no reward, I just want what’s mine”

A tear dropped from Rahim’s eye, he knew where this was heading,he knew that his Uncle was stubborn and this would end bad. His uncles voice turned raspy and he started crying

“I just wanted my share Rahim, I’m not going anywhere, I rather die than run away like a coward, they got the drop on us Rahim, you think all this fancy shit comes without a price, this car, your house our whole lives are built on the blood of our enemy’s, and I’m not going to go down without a fucking price, I need to go”

As he grabbed the door handle, Rahim held his shoulder and told him he can’t leave

“You think I’m gonna listen to you Rah”

His uncle took out his pistol and pointed it at Rahim

“Let me go Rah”

“Family first unc, family first”

With a quick motion, Rahim drew his gun and shot his uncle in the stomach, his mouth open in shock and tears coming down his face he drove back to his dads house, ran passed the living room and collapsed on the couch in tears, he told his dad what had happened and he burst out in tears. His mom came down and saw her son on the floor drenched in blood and her husband in tears and knew exactly what had happened. Rahim kept on saying he was sorry to his dad, his dad came back to his senses , asked Rahim where the body was and Rahim told him that he was in his trunk, he grabbed his jacket and his mom gave Rahim a kiss and told him it was all going to be okay, they drove to the local bar they owned, it was about to close and the owner, a close family friend was about to lock the door when Rahim and Mr Washington suddenly burst in, they told him the story and without hesitation he agreed to help, they layed his body next to the bar and staged it as a hit. Rahims dad told him to go back home and everything was going to be okay, he could not stop repeating the words “I’m sorry”. He drove back home and fell to his knees at the door, Cindy came down and helped into the shower, washed the blood from his body while Rahim told her what happened , she knew Rahims family was involved in the mob life but this was her first encounter with the seeds that the mob life had sworn, she grabbed his clothes and threw them in a fire and held Rahim the whole night.

As expected the next day the whole family was in awe when they heard the news, retribution had to be delivered, Mr Luis paid a hefty amount of money to another mob family to take responsibility for the hit and to sacrifice one of their men for retribution. For the next few months Rahim had nightmares and held a guilt that took over his days and nights. Cindy was there right by his side throughout the whole way. They decided to take a vacation to Rio and when they came back Rahim seemed to have left his guilt in the warm waters of Rio and came back ready for business

A new mayor had taken seat in Fermount and he had a no nonsense tolerance to crime. He worked with the government in stopping organized crime and had set out an investigation for the new metal pipes in Fermount. This was going to take a lot of money out of a lot of important peoples pockets and the family had no choice but to assassinate the mayor but they had two problems, if they did chose to assassinate the mayor they would start a war with the US government who was on their tale but for the latter part of the years has kept a distant leash on them, the family had the backing of men who only saw money so they could handle a war with the US government but the other problem was financial backing from banks, and even though they had investments in most of the cities banks, the government could stop all that cash flow. After numerous meetings with the family, delegates and dirty politicians they decided to go ahead with the plan. High investors decided to pay the family 20 million each as insurance that if the US did fledge out a war, their investment and money would stay intact, if the US didn’t start a war, which was unlikely, they would give back the money.

Mr Luis gave the job to his son Rahim. Rahim asked if he could take Owen and because Owen knew about the inner dealings of the family his dad agreed agreed, Rahims brother Sammy had left for Paris and did not tell any of his family members, atleast they knew where he was this time. Before he left for the job Rahims dad gave him a hug

“You know you get older everyday I see you Rah”

“Not as old as you old man”

They both smiled

“I wish your brother had as much  love as you do for me”

“Don’t worry dad his just going through a phase”

“I guess so, Rahim never forget that we are not rich because money and jewels alone but we are rich because of knowledge, with the right information we can bring a country to its knees”

He gave him a kiss on his forehead which was weird cause he never showed any affection. He only gave kisses to his wife and daughters.

“Oh pops I have something to tell you, uhm I was gonna save it for the family dinner but..”

“Then save it for the family dinner Rah, we’ve got a job to do”

Rahim and Owen waited outside the country club where the mayor played golf from 2 to 3pm, after that he took a drive to the barbers spot to get a shave and catch up with his father who was the owner of the establishment, after his golfing session they followed him to the barbershop, they took out their ski masks from the glove compartment and AK47s from the trunk of Rahims car and walked towards the window of barber shop and let all rounds go, glass and bloody bodies where on the floor, Rahim walked into the barber shop, looked the mayor in the eyes while he was on the floor trying to clench his fathers body and shot him dead.

They came back home ready to tell the family of the successful mission only to find a large fleet of cars at the family home, Rahim ran into the house and found out his dad had collapsed from a heart attack and had died. Every man and women had tears in their eyes. Rahim had cried out all his tears for a day and knew he needed to be there for his family.

The funeral was the biggest the city had ever seen, bigger than the mayors funeral, the government was on the family’s tale closer than ever before but that had to wait for now, mobsters and gangsters from around the world came to the funeral. If felt as if the president of the United States was being laid to rest. Rahim delegated the whole funeral, every flower in the city was thrown into Mr Luis Washington’s grave, speeches from Delegates and diplomats from around the world pierced the cold air and food was served to feed the whole city. Throughout the whole funeral Cindy stood besides Rahim and his mother, he went to say a few words with his wife Cindy in his hands.

“Goodbye old man, we’ll meet each other again, and I can’t wait for you to meet your grandson, I love you”

A few days after the funeral, Rahim was brought into a room with all the males of the family, all the investors of the family and all the mobsters of the city, he was being inducted to being the new leader of the family and family business. He walked to the head of the family, raised his glass of whiskey and said

“To the family”.

Chapter 5- From Russia with love

It seems every hospital has the same cold air rushing through it, the same bland light blue textiles and blinding florescent lights. It’s a place designed for anxiety and for being uncomfortable, but the Fermount Saint Private hospital was in for a rude awakening. The Washington family flooded the entire top floor maternity ward   With leather jackets, southern brute accents, wails from toddlers, chatter from Aunties and mothers and silent prayers from every grandmother that was there. Every doctor or nurse that walked by was harassed by endless questions that they had no jurisdiction answering. The walls swelled with belly carrying males with expensive clothes and pungent cigar aromas. The top ranked maternity ward in Fermount had now been turnt into the Washington family reunion. Rahim came bursting through the door with a face mask on, blue scrubs and gloves, after a second of silence Uncle Elijah finally asked

“Well boy, spill it”

“It’s a boy” Rahim answered.

Everybody in the ward cheered, mothers sang, and uncles shook hands as if they had broken a new millionaire dollar deal. Rahims mother walked towards him and kissed him on the check and said “Your father would be proud of you Rah” even Rahims brother Sammy came over to give him a handshake and a warm head nod.

It wasn’t minutes till the entire family trickled into Cindy’s hospital room to get a glance of the baby, mothers came in first, then Cindys family and some of Rahims uncles. Owen came in the room kissed Cindy on the forehead and gave his friend who he had grown up with and just watched turn into a dad a great ol hug. They decided to name the child after Rahims dad to honor his name.

The baby was greeted with a convoy of cars all hooting in tune, food was prepared as if it was a wedding or a great fest, in all sense of the matter, it was. After Mr Luis Washington’s death the family needed something new to celebrate, Rahim had taken over fully, only taking delegation from his mother, wife, Owen and Uncle Elijah Uncle Thomas who had guided Rahim into the big seat he had taken over. He had met all the big names he had only heard about in meetings and they all accepted him with warm arms, he knew that as long as he did a good job everyones pockets would be full. Since the government was behind their tail ever since the mayors death they had to operate all legal business only and lease or pause all illegal business but even that didn’t deter the government. They sent sanctions to every Washington owned asset , clubs, houses, cars, banks and new building projects. Rahim knew they couldn’t win a silent financial war. He knew at some point they would need aggression to either scare or hold of the government. So After 3 months of being home with Cindy and the baby. Rahim took Owen, Uncle Elijah and Thomas and his brother Sammy to Russia to negotiate a weapons deal Incase things went sour for the family. When they got there they wasted no time. The President of Russia invited them for dinner. The dining hall was full of deep colored tapestry and wild animal heads. After a dinner with jokes and impromptu Russian lessons they went to the president’s bunker to talk about why they where there. Russia was gearing up for a Cold War with the US and as far as they knew it, if the US could have a civil war it would be better for them but they needed assurance before striking an arms deal with the Washington family so they decided to give the Russians half of their crucial assets, mostly banks and government information they had acquired over the years.

More than ever the war was closer than it had ever been, the US had always had a vendetta with the Washington family and their power but now that envy would be put to the test and Rahim needed to make sure his family was safe, even if they lost.

Chapter 6- Cape of good fear

It is said that while the world sleeps, America watches it sleep. As soon as Rahim, Uncle Elijah and Thomas, Owen and Sammy set foot back on American soil, word had spread that the Washington family had made their way to Russia to negotiate an arms deal. This came to no surprise to Rahim because he knew that they where under immense pressure under the eyes of the government. In fact this is why he chose Russia. There are many countries that would agree to an arms deal but Russia was America’s biggest enemy and with the middle stages of the Cold War, it was bound to ruffle up some feathers. With this move Rahim put The Washington family in the four front of history. The US acted quick, by the end of the week it had already smeared the Washington family name in the press and used the only power it had, money and corruption. They seized all assists the Washington family had with ridiculous warrants and permits. Rahim knew that he was in the end game now. So he set up a meeting with the family delegates, elders and mob bosses from around the word. They all gathered in an underground bunker space in the towns baseball stadium that the Washington family had helped build a few years ago. As far as he knew it everyone’s house was already bugged so they needed somewhere neutral to congregate. The room was full of hazy grey smoke, the atmosphere of the room was heavy, all men in this room had something to loose and they all counted on Rahim to keep that. Rahim walked in the room with a butterscotch trench coat with black leather gloves and heavy winter boots. He took his seat and greeted all the men that where there.

“Gentlemen, as you know we don’t have enough time we need to strike with action, I am not here to waste your time and I am not here to cover my ass”

“Seems like your ass is blasted all over the newspaper every single day Rahim” one of the men shouted. Rahim wanted to respond disrespectfully, in fact he wanted to shoot the man right in-front of everybody but the man who made that jittery statement was the owner of the United States pharmaceutical industry. These men literally funded America and had ties to the mob. This was not a meeting with his drunk uncles or petty criminal bar meetings, every man in this room, with a flick of a button could shut down the United States and Rahim knew the stakes.

“I know that Mr Johnson, this is why we are here to fix that” Rahim him replied

“Now, the United States has a problem with the Washington family, and since you are all tied to the Washington family they have a problem with you. I am here to tell you that this will not end pretty gentlemen. Men will be lost and money will follow. Now my job is making sure that money is not taken out of your pockets, yes this will be a bloody war but it will be a war designed to look bigger than it is”

They whole room perched eagerly to hear Rahims proposition

“We will strike war with the US government, but we will use the backing and power of mother Russia, now if we sell this properly to the media it will seem as if a US family made ties with Russia and decided to take down the government. And since Americans love their country so much and hate Russia and black people it will polarize all the other shit that we are doing on the side, but with this I will need your full cooperation, you have my word that money will return to your pockets and Business will run as usual but I need the word and trust of every man in this room, to stand by this family as we have stood behind you all these years. We will strike as soon as we can so focus is directly on us, the family. Till then I will need you to freeze all assets so that nothing is traced back to you, now obviously we know the government has been following us for years and know who we work with but removing all traceable evidence will make them look like fucking loons when they make these accusations, there will be no hard proof. We will set up mini hot spots where they can catch us and have a field day in the media while they suck each other off, yes we will loose a considerable amount of money but that will give us enough time for the Russian Calvary to strong hold the US and ultimately make a deal with us”

“And you sure this will work?” A heavy built gentleman in the back asked

“Sir this is the only option we have to keep  the United States alive”

To keep a low cover Rahim decided to take Cindy and the baby, Owen and his family, his mother and brother to Cape Town South African. He had a vacation home there and he wanted his family especially his wife to get out of the toxic environment that they had ended up in. Rahim took early walks in the open wine fields with an elderly farmer named Abè who was a family friend, his farm imported 80% of the wine in the United States.

“You know Mr Abè this place is so beautiful I wouldn’t mind living and dying here”

“Mr Washington if I may be frank with you, you will not die here”

“Why do you suppose that Mr Abè, do you think I’m not worthy to die in a beautiful place like this?”

“You are a soldier, your daddy was a soldier and his papa before that, ever since I’ve known your family all the men have died in cold places. This is not because you are not worthy, it is because you are a soldier! You make way for your family to live and die in paradise, this is your calling. You where forged in fire It is a thankless job and an even bitter death but I believe if you where to chose to die in paradise or die in the field of war for your family, you would ask me where the battle field was”

“The battlefield is looking clearer to me every day Mr Abè”

“I know Mr Washington, I know”

Chapter 7- The world needs you Mr Washington.

Rahim had cleansed himself of the guilt of going to war for his family in Cape Town and had come back to American with a clear mind and even clearer intentions. If this was going to be the families time to be introduced into the world, it would be a monumental introduction. When he got back home he received a phone call, he picked it up and it was the one and only, President of the United States. He invited Rahim to the a White House for a meeting. Rahim didn’t know what to say. He knew he was in the big leagues but he didn’t know he would be speaking to the leader of the free world in person. He told his family and they where worried that it was a set up but Rahim knew that if they wanted to make a hit they would have done it already. Later that week he went to his fathers grave with Owen, he stayed in the car as Rahim went to speak to his dad

“Hey pops, I know it’s been a while. Just needed the courage to come see you again. Anyway,  the family is doing good. Your brothers are crazy as usual, ready to die on the sword for the family, mom is doing better. She’s worried about everyone but herself, if you can just let her know that she’s doing the best she can. We have a war in our hands pops. All the greedy men who took opportunities from our people not so long ago are afraid of us now, we have a meeting with the President of the Fucking United States. Look I know things are not gonna end up pretty but I wanted to let you know that everywhere I go I hold the family name high. You’ve done such a good job pops. Thank you, I ask that you guide me as I enter unknown territory. I love you”

The next day Rahim took a private plane to Washington DC to meet the President. He walked into the White House and knew they where in too deep, but he was the first Black man from Fermount to step foot in the White House. He was greeted by the President who had a huge smile when he saw him, it wasn’t warm, he had been around enough gangsters to know when a person wants something from you. They entered the office and began making small talk, after a few minutes the President looked at him and said

“You’re not scared are you?”

“Excuse me?” Rahim asked

“I came into this meeting thinking that you’d see how deep in the water you’ve swam into and would want to forfeit or break a deal but you want this don’t you?”

“Mr President, this is deeper than me, many men before me where stripped of opportunities, land, names and basic human dignity, to build this beautiful country and for me to throw that away now, when we’re at the last quarter would be a shame”

“It is a beautiful country isn’t it Mr Washington? we wouldn’t want the beautiful people in it to worry about it now would we?”

“I said it was a beautiful country, nothing bout its people”

“Be that as it may, you know we have enemies that would like to see this country fall and rumor around the farm is that you’re ur in cahoots with those evil people Mr Washington”

“Well that depends, where  are the rumors coming from Mr President?”

“The chickens are clucking Mr Washington, now this is simple we can go ahead with this in which I guarantee we will win and not only win but make an example out of you and your family or you can relinquish all “power” you have, I give you 2 days to say bye to your family and lock you up for the remainder of your days, and the way I see it, you don’t have that much left”

“Well Mr President I suggest you strap your boots up, it’s about to be a cold winter”.

Rahim came back home took a hot bath, went into his sons play room where Cindy was playing with him. He kneeled down and hugged Them both, Cindy grabbed his head slouched on the floor with him and kissed him, she didn’t need to know how the meeting went. She knew the time had come.

Chapter 8- Too much Power

It was weirdly calm in the Washington household. Mrs Debra was handing out sweets to the kid’s running up and down the house, the wives where gossiping about what they thought was going to happen in the kitchen, and the men of the family where outside the yard around the fire. Rahim came in the house late with Cindy and their son, he had stopped to get more liquor and presents for his mom.

“Sammy can you help Owen with the shit in the car, his outside”

Rahim proceeded to hug and kiss everyone in the kitchen, the living room, the dining room and finally the fireplace. When the food was ready Mrs Debra called everyone in the dining room, Rahim was put at the head of the table. There was so much food it felt like it would fall off the table, when everyone had stuffed food to the rim of their plate Rahim stood up with his whiskey glass to make a toast.

“Family, we’ve Always stood firm against the storm of evil souls that have tried to destroy this family, as I look at you I see the generations that our ancestors helped build, look at us, beautiful as can be, intelligent as can be, wealthy as can be. And all this came with hard work, from each and everyone of you. I just wanted to thank you. For being what you where meant to be, Beautiful, well except for Sammy...I’m just joking”

The rest of the night was filled with laughter and reminiscent chatter, photo albums where open, Motown jams serenaded the atmosphere and children danced for hundred dollar bills. The next day Rahim took Cindy to the hair salon uptown.

“Ayt baby I’m just swinging to the hardware store for the drill and I’ll pick you up in an hour”

“See you soon Mr Washington”

They kissed and Rahim was off to the hardware store, he decided to spend an extra twenty minutes just glancing at things he was not going to buy, this was better than chatting about future baby plans with the ladies of Cindy’s salon. As he turned the corner into the road the salon was in he saw Cindy already outside talking to one of the shop vendors. He also saw a black car across the road from Cindy opening its windows. A silver pistol poked out the window and fired 7 shots, Cindy fell to the floor, opened her bag and fired 3 shots herself. Rahim sped his car but the the car sped across the intersection and had left a trail of cars jumping into the wrong lane. Rahim quickly came out of his car and ran to Where Cindy was. His heart felt like it would beat a hole out of his chest, tears already streamed down his face, he fell to the floor next to her.

“Baby are you okay! Are you hurt! Where did they get you!”

“I’m okay I’m okay”

Rahim helped her up and patted her body like a mad man to check for blood but she was okay. They rushed quickly into the car and sped to get home. Cindy rushed into the house and hugged her son and Rahim held them both. Later that afternoon Rahim sat by the fire with a glass of whiskey and a cigar. He knew that the government would attack but this was sloppy of them, they wouldn’t do it like this and even if they did want to send a message it would be more direct. He figured that one of the mobs had sold out. His head kept on seeing the silver gun that popped out the window of the car. The more he thought about it the more it came to him that he had seen that gun, numerous times, in fact his seen that gun ever since he was 17. He rushed up to his room, put on his trench coat and jumped into his car, he sped to Owens house and told him what had happened, Owen grabbed his gun and jumped in the car with Rahim, they drove to Sammy’s house, Sammy saw Rahim’s car and ran straight into the garage into his car. He backed up the drive way and before he could make a turn to speed off Rahim’s car rammed into his door pushing it against the wall. When the smoke cleared Rahim pulled Sammy out of the car and into his trunk, they drove to the harbor and dumped Sammy into an empty space used for wrecked boat parts and broken cargo containers. Owen  stood behind Sammy pointing a gun at him and Rahim took a chair and sat infront of him.

“Now I know you’re a stupid mother fucker but this stupid Sammy, this fucking stupid! You’d turn your back against the family? Huh!”

“What fucking family Rah? Ever since I was born I’ve been pushed out of this family”

“Shut the fuck up, you chose to do that Sammy, not anyone of us. it was you, you play this wounded dog act to gain sympathy and even when you do get the sympathy you grovel for it’s still never enough”

“Fuck you Rah”

“My wife Sammy, you where the best man in my wedding man”

“I don’t give a fuck about you Rah, your little make shift brother here Owen, this family or that bitch you call a wife”

“You know, as I was driving here I thought of ways of killing you and to be honest, I didn’t have any, I realized I ran out of em, ever since we where young I’ve thought about killing you and I realized I’ve finally ran out of ideas cause I ran through them all, so I’m not gonna kill you Sammy. You’re still my brother. What you gonna do now is hop into that boat, it’s gonna take you to county island where you will hop into an aero plane that will fly you to Spain, to the worlds top ranked disability and injured rehabilitation center where you will spend out the rest of your miserable life, you’ll call mom every week and tell her nothing of what you did or what happened, tell her you couldn’t stand being in the family anymore or whatever pitiful shit you can muster up your ass this time”

“Why the fuck would I go to a disability center in fucking Spain”

“Because Sammy, when we’re done with you, you’d wish that we killed you”

Owen grabbed a chain saw and gave it to Rahim, Owen then singled three men into the room and they rolled a table into the center of room. They pinned a screaming Sammy onto the table.

“So I cut right into the born doc?” Rahim asked one of the men

“Yeap, he’ll feel everything we just have to make sure he doesn’t bleed out and stays conscious”

Sammy cried and pleaded with Rahim, he screamed for help but only heard his own echo and the motor of the chain saw, Rahim cut  Into the flesh of Sammy’s legs, blood splattered in every direction, Sammy’s cries could be heard from the end of the world, Rahim slashed and cut both Sammy’s legs, he put down the chain saw, looked at the agony on his brothers face, looked backed at the chain saw and asked the doctor

“Can we cut his hands aswell?”

Sammy, leg less and armless was then put into a boat with medical equipment to keep him alive. Rahim had taken the one thing that Sammy used his whole life, his freedom and without that he was good as dead. as the boat disappeared into the dark blue waters Rahim gazed on it with tears in his eyes, and a pool of blood drenched on his body. Owen put his hand on Rahims shoulders and said

“It’s time to go home man”

The US governments had sent their first shot and used Rahims own flesh and blood. He knew that they would play dirty but this was a hit he was not expecting. He gathered up all his family members and sent them into different parts of the world, the Washington family had friends in every part of the world, they also had money invested in every part of the world so it wasn’t hard to pack everyone up.  He flew his mother, Cindy and his son, uncle Thomas and Elijah and Owens wife and kids to South Africa in Abè’s estate. He then made a call to Russians to send down fire arms. Within 5 days they where packed and delivered to the Fermount boat harbor. Rahim ordered bombs to be set off in the heart of the United States, Washington DC. On March 2nd 1987 the first civil attack by the Washington family was felt the world over, twelve thousand people in the senate where killed as the US presidency held their annual democratic  state meeting. News traveled fast of how a terrorist family had shaken the very foundations of  the United States. The president called for an immediate call of action to stop the Washington family. Rahim knew that they needed more help from Russia but when he called the president he told Rahim what the US had done, the US government knew that the Washington family was getting backing from Russia so they promised to send a nuclear bomb if they didn’t stop working with the Washington family as they would have grounds to consider Russia as an accomplice to US terrorist attacks.

The US army and Federal Bureau of investigations took to the city of Fermount to find and kill Rahim, he knew that they would eventually catch him so he decided to meet his family in South Africa, and fly with them to Alaska. As he loaded his getaway truck with Owen, US soldiers burst into his yard, they had gotten through the heavy guarded gates and made a B line for the drive way. Rahim and Owen Took the underground get away bunker, a bullet hit Owens legs and he fell to the floor. Rahim tried to pick him up as they made it out the bunker into the exit to the woods. But Owen had lost a lot of blood, He couldn’t continue anymore, with tears in Rahim’s s face he pushed to carry Owen and fell to the floor. Rahim screamed and used all his might to try pick him up but they were slowing down. Owen grabbed his friends hand and said “it’s okay”

“No man I can pick you up don’t fucking give up on me Owen”

“Mate we can’t do this, you need to go, we’ve made it this far man this is where our journey ends”

“No Owen please” tears flowed down Rahim’s face and it felt like he was crying out his soul.

“Listen, tell Elizabeth I love her man, tell my kids about me everyday and tell them that daddy loves them with all his heart, take care of my kids man, take care of my fucking kids Rah, please man”

“You have my word brother, I love you”

Rahim kissed Owens hand, got up, looked back one more, nodded his head and said goodbye to his friend”

Owen took out his gun and put it to the temple of his head.

As Rahim ran through the woods he heard a bang, stopped, looked back for a second and continued to run.

Chapter 8 - let blood run

Rahim had thought that there was no place colder than Fermount, until he spent his first night in Alaska. It was so cold that you would think your thoughts where frozen, it didn’t make it any better that they had a house on top of a mountain but like any good Washington he adapted, his family adapted,  to the conditions, to the constant paranoia, to the inevitability of being caught and to the realization that they would probably never see their families again. Two years had passed since the US government seized every Washington asset known to man. Many of the Washington men had been incarcerated on false chargers and the government paraded the end of organized crime. Rahim’s promise held strong though, none of his business partners where harassed and business continued to run as normal even if it was on a smaller scale. The government realized that Rahim’s plan worked, they had chased the wrong people and because they paraded the end the Washington family in the media they could not go after the real partners of the Washington family. Firstly because they didn’t know where to start without the head of the Washington family. with every Washington man who entered those jail cells not one word was uttered about the families dealings and partners and secondly the public would accuse the US government of wasting money in finding the sole proprietors of organized crime when they had experienced their first recession in 70 years and still had a drug and Cold War to fight. The US President was persistent on finding Rahim and after two years of sniffling him out, the US government made its way to The Alaskan mountains.

Rahim and Cindy walked down the mountain every morning to collect bore water while Mrs Debra and Rah’s sisters set up the table for breakfast. Luis Jr loved the snow and would play in it all day. He had grown so much and looked exactly like Rahim. The morning was colder than usual but the sky was clear, Cindy noticed that Rahim was tense and didn’t talk much during the hike down.

“Baby, you okay?”

“Huh?”

“I said are you okay?”

Rahim looked into her beady eyes, the same eyes he had fallen in love with when he meet her in New Guinea. Her nose was colored with a brush of red, her skin glowed and her hair was full and vibrant. He kissed her and said

“It’s time hunny bunny”

“Time for what Rah?” She replied

He put down the buckets in his hands and grabbed her shoulders.

“They’ve found us”

As if choreographed, one tear dropped down Cindy’s cheek and she asked

“How long do we have”

“How long do you You guys have”

“Wait what, you can’t stay Rah they’re gonna kill you”

“If I leave with you guys you’ll always have a target behind your back, we’ll never grow old and sit on a porch in our big home in Texas and watch our grandkids play in the yard if I don’t do this”

“But babe-“

“Baby listen, what did I tell you in that island bar in New Guinea?”

“That wherever I go you would follow till death”

“And I’m not gonna break that promise, okay”

“Okay”

“Immediately after breakfast a car will come to fetch you, mom, my sisters and Luis Jr. it will drive you to an old military flight school, if you don’t see the military flight school in about 30 mins after you leave from here I want you to shoot that mother fucker clean in the head. You’ll be put in a plane that will fly you guys to New Guinea”

Cindy smiled and kissed him.

“Now I want you to take the black brief case under our bed and give it to Abè, he’ll be waiting for you when you land, and whatever happens-“

Before he could finish what he was about to say Cindy hugged him and said, nothing will happen, we’ll see you soon okay”

“Okay”

Night hit the Alaskan mountains and the fog had masked the house in blinding white snow. Rahim sat alone in the dining room of the small wood house he had made a home for the last two years. He looked around the kitchen and smiled thinking about all the meals they had in here, maybe it was the cold or because the wooden house was so small that they had to be in each others faces but this house reminded him of Fermount, it reminded him of when his dad used to take him and his brother to baseball games, it reminded him of the nights in parking lots he would speed with fast girls and his best friend Owen and it reminded him of waking up 10 minutes earlier just to watch the sun kiss his wife’s face as she woke up. He knew that he would have to sacrifice something if he wanted his families name to live on, he knew the stakes would be high when he drenched his blood on that grave and he knew his dad would be proud of him. As the night lingered he heard commotion and he knew they had arrived. The Alaskan police force together with the US army burst into the property with vehicles going up to the house. Helicopters flew over the mountain with bright lights illuminating the little wooden house. Rahim waited until the vehicles made it close to the house and without warning a huge explosion blew up the house together with the mountain, and an avalanche of fire engulfed every army and police car that was close to the mountain. Alaska was on fire.

In the next few weeks the press was flooded with news of how the US government had killed the terrorist Mob boss Rahim Jackson in Alaska. The New Yorker read

“The Washington’s wicked rain of terror has finally ended.”

Chapter 9 - We multiply

On the noon of August 24th 1991, US government files where leaked to the media. With evidence linking the US government to war crimes, plans to invade Oil countries and civilian surveillance with news of government corruption being leaked on a daily basis. This hit the US government like a shit storm, the public wanted answers, the United Nations condemned the US for its inherent evil human right violations and in every state of the US and every country in the world civilians rioted and protested for answers. The US economy took a hit and trade sanctions were discussed. The White House was frantic and no one had heard anything from the president, he was not answering any calls and he didn’t send out even one press conference. As the president talked to his delegates in his office his secretary burst into his office and said

“Sir you have someone on the phone for you”

“I think it can wait Mika I’m busy with something here”

“Sir, you’re gonna want to take this”

He knew who it was but he didn’t want to believe it, he walked slowly to the white plastic telephone waiting for him on his secretary’s desk, as the delegates, counselors, mayors and military advisors watched, he picked up the phone

“Mr President, I believe I have something you need, I think it’s time we struck a deal don’t you think?.”

The end.

[ifeveristoday]

 [video description: just me yelling for seven minutes straight]

Ok. Am I ready for this?

Every issue of the Boom! Verse has been building up layers of characterizations and the aftermaths of choices. Issue 9 shows us the fallout of two major events - the showdown at Sunnydale Museum, and Xander’s half Vampire state (and what Willow had to do to get him there).

It also touches on the fact that Buffy is in the Hellmouth with no way to contact the surface world.

Yet that isn’t the most pressing matter in this issue.

Relationships are frayed.

Everyone in the Scooby Gang is isolated.

Jenny has a cat.

Sorry, that’s not thematically relevant but I, as a cat person, am legally bound to discuss when there is a cat in media.

JENNY HAS A GREY TABBY WHAT IS THEIR NAME

Spoilers and reactions to issue nine under the cut - we scream and flail like men, who needs a review?

PTSD CLUB PTSD CLUB PTSD CLUB

edited to correct that bit about Willow’s hair and level of evil it indicates

Something that Jordie used early on is the narrator POV (unreliable perhaps) and it returns to this issue. But instead of Xander or Willow, it’s Joyce. And she’s grieving about the world she’s lost but what every parent knows in the back of their mind: the world is tough and scary and so many bad things can happen. And Joyce has survived the attack but there’s no Buffy to commiserate with, to fuss over in person. (Also, what a nod to Joyce’s obliviousness in TV canon - to believe that Buffy would just go on a mandatory field trip with no phone connection.) Luckily, she has Eric, who is supportive and says all the right things. 

Joyce’s disconnect with what she feels and the outside world’s determination to ‘life goes on’ is repeated in the rest of the issue, as our favorite Sunnydale residents deal with both small and large terrors.

Revelations besides Jenny’s cat:

Cordelia works in a clothing shop and there are some Portland looking dudes roaming around Sunnydale. Or maybe it’s Silver Lake. She still has a crush on Spike, because who hasn’t met a mysterious, well-muscled stranger emerging from the forest like a person-shaped Cheshire cat and thought, “Gotta get me some of that?”

I mean, a whole fairytale industry has grown up around that idea.

But despite all normal appearances (and Cordelia is the still most ‘normal’ character) and her Cordy Crew updates, life is not going to her plans. There are fissures erupting in the sidewalk, cracks appearing in walls, people are stressed and Cordelia can’t even play with her dog without falling over said fissures. Oh, and her books are dissolving into ash when she opens her locker.

So shit is horrible.

Willow’s dyed a black streak in her hair (honey, red hair is the hardest color to re-dye to. Your hair is so beautiful and now you’ve got to tone and strip the fuck out of that streak if you want a base to dye it red again - oh wait, magic, I guess) and is being rude and abrupt and just plain Not Willow with Rose and everyone.

Except Willow chafes at the idea of there being a standard for her - why should she be just the smart capable responsible one? While a vampire doppelganger doesn’t burst out of the wall and drawls that she’s bored now, Willow is resentful that Rose and everyone else expects her to be one way when hello, the world is on fire outside.

Rose has found out about the weird shit that goes on in Sunnydale and accuses Willow of keeping things from her, including giant bats and the fact that Buffy was there, and she, Willow’s girlfriend and considerably known her longer than Buffy (imp.)  wasn’t there or told about it.

Willow naturally thinks that Rose being jealous of Buffy is just stupid, because Buffy isn’t even there and honestly she’s not even thinking about it. Which causes Rose to worry why is her empathetic Willow like this?

Which makes Willow lash out that she’s tired of having to be the one who has to consider everyone else’s feelings but her own? Why can’t she have the space to figure out what she wants?

And like that, Rose and Willow are on a break.

Xander, in direct contrast to everyone else around him, is calm and sensitive and just generally being a good bean. He’s concerned about Willow and Buffy, but he’s not crowding Willow. He’s patrolling in Buffy’s absence and making stakes and friends with raccoons - and all of his warm-heartedness and acceptance of ‘everyone’s journey is different’ upsets Giles, who is stubbly and running on presumably zero sleep as he worries about Buffy, and the break in his relationship.

Xander’s facade of handling all the weird crap Sunnydale’s thrown at him gets blown when he encounters a vampire delivery boy in the cemetery. He wins the fight, but the vampire’s words taunting him that they’re just monsters, and not in-between--unfinished like Xander is, resonates with him. Xander’s been doing so well, learning how to live and cope with his depression, being a good friend and responsible evil thwarter - and then to have Giles dismiss him so coldly? And to have one of his worst fears spoken out loud - he’s not human anymore. Not in the way that it used to count. And he’s only half a vampire - and there’s no one else straddling that line so he’s still alone. 

Everyone needs a hug.

Especially Giles and Jenny, because shit, things get incredibly real in the next act. Giles heads over to Jenny’s house to make some kind of amends, but Jenny is understandably Not Having It. Giles disregards all of her reasonable requests, pushes past her and enters her home and then tries to make her understand how really, she’s wrong and he’s right and MAYBE IF SHE HADN’T GIVEN THE DAGGER TO DRUSILLA, THE WORLD WOULDN’T BE ON FIRE.

This is a mess. In so many ways Giles is wrong - he ignored her request to stay away, he invited himself in - and then spent too long trying to make excuses for why it was OK for him to do all of that shit. And he looks a hot mess while doing so - I don’t even think it’s the artwork style, it’s just that Giles is wild-eyed, wrecked, and actually slavering at the mouth as he tries to explain his point of view. He’s feverish and Jenny puts aside her anger for a minute to get him a glass of water. Like, yes, she’s furious with him, but she still loves him, even though this scary man practically foaming at the mouth doesn’t really look like her partner.

Jenny presses him on his attempt to protect them all, asking pointedly, what about her?

Giles automatically assumes she’s talking about Buffy and assures her that he knows Buffy’s capable of fending for herself, which is exactly the Wrong Thing to Say, because as previous issues have shown, Jenny is not cool with children having to save the world, and also, Buffy’s mom? How about her, Fuckhead Watcher Man.

And Giles goes and puts his whole head up his ass as he says that there are sacrifices that come with successes, as in any war - and Jenny loses it. Because Giles rants do you think that it’s easy for him to live to believe that everything in his life is disposable except for Buffy? That nothing else matters?

And Jenny reads the underlining footnote - if nothing matters, where does that leave her in his life?

FOR FUCK’S SAKE GILES YOU’RE DERANGED GO HOME

And Jenny’s cat agrees with me and hisses at him to leave Jenny alone.

Giles exits the house wondering aloud has everyone gone mad, while a suspicious rabbit looks on from the grass.

There’s a Tucker Wells/Andrew shades of who the fuck cares interlude about a lonely kid who stalks his school facebook to read the comments about classmates and I might be callous, but I actually do not care about those type of characters because guess what, lots of lonely kids and people out there and their first thought is not to kill everyone else. Anyway, I suspect this is a side effect of the Hellmouth magnifying negative thoughts.

It lingers on Buffy’s face and the comments - “She’s weird but hot.”

Now imagine that being her epitaph. 

This pans over to the last sequence - Robin is chilling at home, and his dad (!!!) tells him to go to bed, he doesn’t care how much this town is falling apart. Robin’s dad believes in education.

And guess who shows up at his door in the late of night?

KENDRA.

And she hits him with a Star Wars reference. “Aren’t you a little short for a watcher?”

[delicatestar]

Pagan meme 🌲🌳🍁

Tagged by @rosegoldtunic , @thepastelpriestess , and @daughterofthegoldenandthesilver

Do you have a magical/Pagan name?

No, I'm just Skyler or Sky 

How did you find Paganism?

I don't know if I identify with the word "pagan" the way other ppl do. It makes me think of Wicca, which I don't practice. But I guess it started with Catholicism. I was raised non-practicing Catholic, but I always went to church with my grandmother when I'd visit her. And I loved it because country Catholicism in the U.S. Deep South is like doing a ritual. It's not the obligational, dry Catholicism of the "city" (my city had 50,000 ppl lol). It was magical. The people there also believed you had to eat black eyed peas and cabbage or pot liquor for dinner on New Year's Eve. And you had to have your whole house clean before New Year's. And hold your breath as you pass a cemetery. And they spoke of Marie Laveau and the Yazoo Witch in quiet, awed whispers. These weren't great times in my life, but I loved the old tales and the forests I ran around in by myself for hours.

As I grew up, I realized it wasn't the specific god being worshipped in Catholicism that interested me, but the solemnity and beauty of the connection and the marriage of ritual, belief, and history. So I started spending more time in the woods and fields, talking to the spirits, the fairies, and the trees.

That was all squashed, of course, as I was growing up, but it's been nice to rediscover it over the last few years.

How long have you been practicing?

Hm... Probably from ages 2-14, then again over the last few years. Though some of those traditions never really left me, haha.

Are you out of the broom closet?

I...honestly kind of hate this term. I don't know why! Of course, if someone uses it, it's their own thing and that's ok. My beliefs and practices are private outside of this blog.

Solitary or group practitioner?

I'm not really comfortable letting other ppl dictate or influence how I interpret the universe, the gods I worship, etc.

What is your path?

I don't really understand this question. No one defines my path for me. I follow my gut.

D E I T Y

What’s your brand of deism?

Agnostic pantheism. It's expressed outwardly as a mix of Hellenic polytheism (revivalist), Shinto-Buddhism, science, and nature. (I do not talk about the Shinto-Buddhism parts on my blog because I am not Japanese and I feel it would be appropriative. I generally keep those things private.)

Who is your patron God/ess?

I don't actually subscribe to this concept.

What Gods do you worship?

Directly: Tyche/Fortuna, Apollo, Athena, Hermes, Hotei

Indirectly: Hades, The Erotes, Jesus, Hyacinthus

Do you fear darkly aspected Gods/Goddesses, or rather respect them?

No. I generally disregard the "evil" or "darkness" ascribed to certain gods, or choose not to work with them. The world has enough negativity in it. Humans are capable of enough evil without godly intervention.

Do you worship the Christian God?

No, but see my answer to "How did you find Paganism?" I consider Jesus to be an example of good and how doing good can be its own reward. Take care of the poor, feed the hungry, clothe the cold. Do unto others as you'd have them do unto you... These are core things I believe.

Do you worship animals? Or plants?

Not exactly. But I do think everything has a certain energy or life force or spirit. And as a kid, I used to wander the woods alone for hours to commune with them.

N A T U R E

Do you regularly commune with nature?

Not often because living in NYC makes it hard to find nature to commune with. On a recent trip, I found that I still really enjoy being in the forests and on the sea. I love the calm beauty of nature just existing. With no other purpose, no rush. Everything happening when it should, no sooner or later. 

Taken a camping trip just to talk to nature?

I went camping all the time as a kid and probably didn't realize this was why I loved it. I haven't been in a long time.

Describe the moment you felt closest to Mother Earth?

(When I was a kid, around 10 years old.) 

Standing in the middle of a forest in Mississippi, surrounded by green and brown and the smell of pine trees. The ground feels "old" and solid in a way other places don't. It vibrates with energy and certainty. The air is filled with the chattering of birds feeding and squirrels scolding each other. The forest is quiet-loud. I'd pet the wild king snakes and anoles. Climb a big tree and sit in the branches, becoming part of the rhythm of the forest until the animals no longer noticed that I didn't belong there and they'd come out of hiding: raccoons, rabbits, foxes, whole families of deer. I was able to identify every plant, every sound, every smell, even if I didn't have a name for it at the time. I was alone, but never felt lonely. I didn't go home until the cicadas started singing, the mosquitoes started biting, and it was almost too dark to see.

Do you have a familiar?

No, not really. But butterflies tend to come up for me a lot.

Have you ever called upon the powers of an animal in ritual? Or a plant?

No, I do this more organically/innately. It's ingrained in a way I don't notice I'm doing it. For example, if I have to kill a spider in my house (can't get it outside), I apologize to it and try to make its death as painless and instant as possible. I thank animals I eat for their life which will continue supporting mine. Their energy, becoming part of me, means we are now part of something bigger, together. (If I could be vegetarian, I would. It's not an option for me, unfortunately.)

Do you hug trees?

No, but I spent a lot of time sitting in th when I was younger. I do say hi to them when I pass them on the street. I had some big oak trees in my backyard when I was 3 and I loved to talk to them for hours.

Give them gifts?

Not really. As a kid I used to leave daisy chains on their above-ground roots for any fairies or spirits living there, though.

What are your favorite plants to work with?

I don't necessarily work with plants directly. Though I use cayenne pepper, garlic, and sage (all from the spice section at the grocery store), along with honey, to create meals that soothe some of my chronic illnesses. I use tea tree oil and eucalyptus for pain. I'm also particularly drawn to cosmos, chrysanthemums, and irises.

What is your favorite holiday?

New Year's!

What is your least favorite holiday?

The 4th of July.

Have you ever held a ritual on a holiday?

I help my wife prepare things for Day of the Dead. I clean the house before New Year's. And we go to see the first sunrise of the near year together.

Ever taken a day off work to celebrate a Pagan holiday?

No, but my favorite/main holiday is conveniently already a national holiday.

Do you celebrate Yule on the 21st rather than the 25th?

I don't usually celebrate Yule. Instead, I focus on the new year.

Tagging - I'm not going to tag anyone directly. However! If you see this and you want to do it, please tag me so I can see your answers. :D

[ghostladyofwinterfell]

Phases of the Moon

A Jonsa Buffy The Vampire Slayer AU/inspiration

Summary: For some reason unbeknown to Sansa, the old gods had chosen her to be the next girl to have the power to stop the Wights and the Long Night. 

But they shouldn’t have. Not this Stark girl at least. 

No, Sansa just wanted to be on the cheer squad and get into a good college far from the North. This hadn’t come into the equation. 

But neither had Robb’s best friend Jon, whose absentee father had shown up out of blue just shy of his eighteenth birthday and taken off with him. Now he was back and changed. He had come back wrong. 

Chapter One: Changes

It shouldn't be Sansa. He had said that she was the chosen one, the man who was to be her watcher. She was the who would stand alone against the forces of darkness, to keep the long night at bay.

Yer right. They had clearly gotten it wrong somewhere. For she was not who anybody would have picked for this. She was the pampered princess, lips glossed, short skirt smoothed down and not a single curled hair out of place.

She certainly shouldn't be the only one in this generation that was for sure.  Mankind was doomed. 

She was not a fighter. If it had to have been a Stark girl, then it should have been Arya. She feels guilty about how many times she had prayed before going to bed, which was somewhere around three in the morning now, for wanting it to be Arya. 

Let it be her. Not this Stark. Let her be the chosen one and not me. You have it all wrong. 

Sansa was only just seventeen, graveyard patrols, musty books on white walkers, grass stained jeans and hidden scratch marks should not be her life right now.

But then again, Arya was only fourteen years old and Sansa felt the shame burn in her every time she sent a whispered prayer to the old gods in her mind. Let it be her.

Arya was a fighter though, she told herself to provide some comfort. Just looking at her Sansa could tell she was a down in the mud, claws out, snarl on her face, fight to her last breath kind of girl.

Not like her, whose first instinct when she was told she had the power now to kill this creature had wanted to run. She took one look at its vacant ice eyes, to its chomping teeth that kept trying to sink into the flesh of her arm, to its grasping hands that wanted to rip her skin open and had thought about throwing this watcher into its jaws so she could run.

Even now, after doing this for a whole moons turn she had still not taken to it. She felt the power in her, but it felt disjointed, she was not connected to it. Maybe it knew she wasn't worthy.

Davos Seathworth, her watcher, was a firm but gentle man. He reminded her of her father, he was a just man but he also a realist. He said he understood how she must be feeling, she scoff in reply, how in the seven hells could he.

Every time he spoke of her new found powers and that she should be grateful of this gift she wanted to hit him. That would be wrong though, he was quiet old, ten years younger and she might have been tempted. But she likes to picture it though, like now as he babbles on about the origins of the long night and the many mystical mumbo jumbo forces connecting the Wights together to act as one entity, she wanted to sock him in the face.

The way she saw it was that her being the chosen one wasn't a gift, it was an early death.

She who was so full of life before and now she was just a shadow barely keeping it together. Nearly dying on weekly bases, flunking in school and seeing her friends was not something to celebrate and send thanks to the old gods for choosing her.

It was Friday, the last day of school before Christmas break and Davos was getting her prepared for a Wight hunt. For some reason once the dead were laid to rest in the dirt, they rose again to roam as mindless animals.

It was five-thirty and she was still at school in the library, she didn't even know this place existed until she had to report here to meet Davos. What a trainwreck her life was now.

Sansa had already managed to cram in a school day, a quick cheer practice on the field, all before she had head to the library and started her assignments set for the holidays.

The sun was just starting to set early now in fall just before six, when they were finishing their training session, she was about to duck out before she mentioned it.

"I need another weapon", she mumbled quietly hoping he wouldn't hear, but he did. He always did. His head shot around to her from where he was packing away exercise equipment and she cursed at him in her mind, for an old guy his hearing was exceptionally good.

And now five minutes later she was watching a currently red in the face Davos as he armed her with another dragon glass knife and kept repeating the importance of stowing away weapons safely and effectively. Its not her fault she had accidently misplaced her previous one somewhere, she was sure she would find it again.  

"Uh-huh, thanks D. Definitely gonna take on board all those things about taking care of things. Bye." She made a break for it as soon as the black dagger was in her palm.

Just as the door was swinging shut she heard him mumble under his breath. "Gods, the world is in trouble."

Her senses had kicked into overdrive when it all happened. Her enhanced slayer hearing had helped her eavesdrop on many gossiping groups.

Sometimes she wished she couldn't hear everything. Davos could say what he liked she snivelled to herself. He wasn't the one who risked his life.

At the end of the night she bet he climbed into his cosy bed and slept like a baby. He was safe, all he did was tell her which cemetery had any recent burials in the city and sent her on her way. He didn't have to try at not falling behind in school, or keeping up with studying and homework, staying committed to cheer practice and make time for friends and family. He just had to watch.

And then there was him. Somebody who had grown up beside her her whole life, but who she had kept at a distant. Robbs best friend. Aryas hero. Bran and Rickons idol.

He never used to mean anything to her, the lack of any kind of relationship compared to her other Stark siblings had been a constant in her, she guessed even that had changed to.  

Just like her position in the cheerleading team that Arya still scoffed at whenever she said she was going. They were going to drop her soon she was sure of it, she should have been taking over as captain in her senior year.

I mean sure her body had gotten stronger, she could now move it in ways she couldn't before, but she was distracted, turning up late and forgetting routines.  

But back to one of the other thorns in her side. Jon bloody snow.

All she knew was,  in the summer at the end of his senior year of high school, around about the same time this whole destiny crap had happened to her,  his absentee father had shown up out the blue.

Jon had disappeared with him the day before his eighteenth birthday and Robb had been devastated that all their summer plans were ruined. It was as he called it there last hurrah before they went off to college.

Robb was just being dramatic of course, because they were both going to Castle College together up North, that was not even a two hour drive from Winterfell.

Jon had started the semester late and he returned back to Winterfell with Robb a few days ago ready for Christmas, and he had come back changed.

He had gotten taller, had a dark and troubled glint in his eyes now, but the main thing that had caught her attention was the muscles that now wrapped around his body. The other night when she had seen him she had stared a little too hard at his arms and how his t-shirt stretched around them too tightly. And he was, in shock to Sansa as she didn't think it could be possible, even more brooding.

She often daydreamed about that physique and those that penetrating  stare being aimed at her in the middle of calculus class. It wasn't like she was needed to know any of this stuff anymore.  

Whenever he was in the house hanging around with Robb during  the past couple of days, the hairs on the back of her neck would rise and she knew he had walked into the room.

She should have know that it wasn't because she had finally noticed he was now hot and on her radar.

She had arrived home just in time for tea. Which as Stark tradition demands had to be eaten at the family dining table with no phones.

She felt like even in her home she was trying to play catch up, listening to all her siblings stories over their starter on how their days were and trying to give noises as her reply and ask appropriate questions at the end.

She feigned how excited she was at breaking up from school. She tried to pretend to be her old self, who had loved having lazy mornings and meeting friends for coffee and shopping as her only schedule. They would spend hours in the mall wandering aimlessly with not a care in the world.

Now she would have to play catch up on school work she was too tired to pay attention to in class, practice her cheer routines so she wouldn't be to far behind, train more with Davos who demanded more of her time now there was no school and still meet with friends for trips to the mall.

The air shifted when the door opened. Robb and Jon joining them for the main course after just getting back from a movie. At least Robb had thankfully dominated all the conversation to discuss the film, college, football and girls.

Her mind was either on her patrol tonight or how the stubble Jon had grown out suited that sharp jaw of his. She didn't know which thought worried her more.

They were getting to the end of their meal when she knew she had to make her excuses.

"Can I go over to Beth's tonight for a sleepover, so we can practice our new cheer routine?" She tried to make sure her voice was sugary sweet.

Arya laughs cruelly before butting in. Doesn't she know Sansa doesn't care for her opinion. "Its not the routine you all need help with, its the spelling. How hard is it to shout out names?"

That utter horse face, she seethed.

Robb and Jon both chuckle. She feels herself get embarrassed, her face heating up. She never used to be bothered with what Jon thought of her.

Her father, ever the mediator steps in. "You've been spending a lot of nights studying late or having sleepovers at friends lately, is everything okay".

That's funny, Sansa didn't think he even noticed. He of course had gone to several of her cheer performances, but she knew deep down he thought it was silly.

"I've always gone to sleepovers." And it was true. She was a social butterfly like her mother, people were drawn to her and she sometimes craved a crowd of people who hung on her every word. Or at least she used to.

"Not this many". Great her mum and dad were doing that back up thing again, were they ganged up on you.

Great, she was probably going to have to try to quietly sneak out. It was much easier to head straight out after dinner when the sun had set. Otherwise she would have to get her pyjamas on, get under the covers and snuggled down before her mother and father popped their head round the door to say goodnight.

She often nearly dozed off she was that comfy and tired. She often nearly started crying when she had to get of her silk pj's and back into clothes.

Her mother must take pity on her desperate expression and gives a curt agreement that she can go, but she is to be back in the morning early for family breakfast at 10.

She happily nods in reply before dashing off upstairs to fill a bag with what she calls a slayer survival kit. Extra thick jumper and socks, drinks, snacks, magazines and her dagger.

Jon's gaze follows her from the room and she has to try really hard to keep her head focused on getting up the stairs.

She might have taken a little longer to climb the stairs so Jon could get a good look at her long longs, even if she was in a rush to hit two separate cemeteries tonight for the two different burial sites.

She sighs heavily for the sixth time this hour alone. She checks her phone again, 1 o'clock. 1 o'clock in the bloody morning and this stupid corpse hasn't risen up yet. The other body at the grave site nearer the centre of town had risen at 10 sharp.

Obviously some Wights were more concerned with time management than others.

"Hurry up." She says tartly down at the freshly planted grave as though she can command it to rise. Doesn't it know she has better things to do like sleep and dream of a certain boy.

She rises from her squatted position, shoving the magazine she had read from front to back thoroughly two time already back in her bag.

She begins her warm up again, stretching her muscles repeatedly every fifteen minutes to keep herself ready, to help her remain awake and to warm her frozen limbs back up.

Tonight sucked. She left home at seven, instead of heading out she could have suggested a film night and slyly made sure her seat on the sofa was next to Jon's.

Well it was no use pouting over now.

She felt a nervous thrum in her chest. That same sort of hair raising, stomach sinking feeling that was usually an alarm bell sounding from within. Danger. She reached in her bag for the dragon glass because this Wight was sure to rise now.

The light smattering of snow on the ground made everything in here eerily silent. 

As if it absorbed all the noise into it. It wasn't thick enough were it would crunch beneath her boots. Which is why she didn't hear the impact of foot falls behind her. 

It confused her at first, why was the ground coming up to meet her face, it clicked a second later when she felt its ice blocks for arms weighing her down. Its foul and cold breath gave a weird sensation in her ear, as though when it snarled, outpoured snowflakes right into the shell of it and into her head making it heavy.

She hit the floor hard, harder with its body on top of her and an exasperated sound falls from her lips as her weapon tumbles a few feet in front of her. Her arms were trapped. All she could do was try to buck its body off of her as it tried to attack at her neck.

She dislodged it enough that she could use the strength in her thighs to launch it away with her feet. She threw it hard enough to hear a crack as it landed up against a tombstone.

She turned around crawling towards her weapon, but the thing had righted itself and grabbed a hold of her ankle pulling her away.

She cries out as if the world is truly against her as a hand breaks through the soil of the grave and out into the world.

Two of them in one cemetery, she had only ever gone one on one before. She felt a slight betrayal, Davos had only said two would rise tonight but at different sites. She had already taken care of the first one across town.  

The other rose in the same amount of time it took for her to nearly grab at the dagger. They were freakishly fast for dead folk.

Kicking out her feet at the first so it couldn't grab hold of her leg again and pinning it up against the gravestone, leaves her a small chance to deal with the second as it launches itself at her.  She quickly finds purchase gripping a hold of its neck, her muscles begin to feel as though they are on fire at holding back the sheer strength the Wights posses.

But her other arm is free to grab her dagger. Which might be trickier than she first thought as it was still a little out of reach and she couldn't drag herself closer as the snow around them melts in the scuffle and makes the ground slippy.

She feels a tingle in her gut, a tell tale sign of alert for her and see's a shadow approaching them in her peripheral.

Oh gods, its another one. Three of them, I'll surely die.

All three would surround and pin her down, taking turns to bite chunks of her flesh.

Would she turn into one of these things after. Would her family have to go to the morgue to see her mangled, chewed up body. Gods, her family. Her mum, her dad.

Her heart pounded quickly but this thing approached slowly, crouching down just in front of her. What the hell.

Her heart is in her throat as she peels her eyes away from the monsters to stare into blue eyes. Not the ice blue of Wights but a deep, chocolate brown. Jon bloody Snows brown eyes, as they smirk down at her.

"Do you need some help sweet girl?"

Her eyebrows furrowed, was this a trick. Was Jon a bad guy all this time and she didn't know it. Her mind flashed to all the times he had come into a room and she had that feeling in her gut. She was sure it was a nervous flutter because of her huge crush.

She was so stupid. Her senses had been warning her this whole time and she was too distracted by him to realise.  

It was surprising how good he obviously was at hiding this dark part of himself, he was someone who Sansa thought could be read like a book.

But he made no move to kill her though. And she really didn't know how long she could keep these two at bay. Was he really waiting for her to give an answer.

"Erm. Yes... please?".

He smiled down at her, she was courteous even as she was trying to keep deaths jaws pried open to stop it from swallowing her.

He rises up, finally stepping out of the shadows and into the light of moon. He looked less scary bathed in the moons glow.

Maybe he just happened to be in the neighbourhood? Even though he was sleeping at her house and it was 1 o'clock in the morning.

She tried to read his face but it remained blank, she truly didn't know what he was going to do. She had spent years around this man and in this moment she felt like she didn't know him.

He used his foot to nudge the dagger closer to her free arm, she sent a quick prayer to the gods.

Before she could even look to grab it, Wight number two had slipped from her grasp.

She grabs the weapon and tackles it to the floor, as she goes to slam the dagger in its chest a body flies through the air beside her.

The Wight she has a hold of shrieks as it breaks down, as if it was entirely made of ice, she then turns to face the one beside her.

The one that's probably killed Jon. It was all her fault, she was sure if Arya was the slayer she could take on five whole Wights at once. She wanted to lay down at cry. He was dead.

Only, it was brown eyes not blue eyes she looked upon beside her.

"Oh- you're not dead". Well done Sansa, great deduction there. He probably already thinks you're some dumb cheerleader.

His lips quip up in a half smile, but before she can say anything to him again they both turn to the Wight that's screeching a  few graves away. It almost sounded as if it was in pain, and she reprimands herself for being sloppy in forgetting about the thing for even a second.

How did it even get a few gravestones over? She recalls it, a body being flung in the air. She thought it was Jon's though, what with the Wights inhuman strength.

"How did you throw it off that far?" She's swallows nervously, back to being worried about him.

He merely shrugs. She was sure he used to talk more than this, even if it was rarely to her.

She cautiously approaches the Wight, looking as though it was writhing on the ground. She brings her dagger up ready to embed it in its chest, it was grasping at a bite mark on its own neck, screeching out before it turned to ice flakes blowing in the wind.

Why did it have a bite mark on its neck? How did it die without being killed by dragonglass? What was Jon doing here?

She held the pointy end of the dagger towards him. He knew something. Nobody who had just witnessed all this would be okay right now. He clearly knew Wights existed. He wasn't afraid. Sansa even thinks he just killed that one somehow.

She knew that there were other bad things in the world. Other monsters. And maybe he was one. How else could he have thrown that Wight so far.

Was she going to have to kill Robbs best friend?

"What. Are. You". There was no time for niceties, she had too many questions swirling around in her mind.

"I could ask you the same thing. What's Robbs little sister doing in a cemetery fighting monsters in the middle of the night". He takes a step closer to her then, she feels the heat coming off him in waves. Did he always run this hot? Was he sick?

He takes another step towards her approaching her as though she were a skittish doe. She wants to take one back because they're nearly touching, she feels the ghost of his touch brush her arms.

He's too close, he'll muddle her head up because all she know see's is him, all she hears is his heart beating fast, too fast. His scent floods all around her and she can only focus on him.

He puts a finger to her chin and tilts her head up to the sky.

He leans down and whispers in her ear, "Its almost a full moon".

Was that a fact or a warning. She didn't know, he was hard to understand. Boys were hard to understand at the best of times.

She stares at the moon, she never notices its phases, why would she ever need to bother. Looking at it now she could see it was almost there. On the cusp of being round and full.

She looks to him as he takes a step back, his pupils are wide as they gaze up at the sky.

He cuts down to her quick and sharp. The he grins. A wide one showing off pointed teeth that gleam in reflection of the light.

And she just knows again, that her whole world has shifted for a second time in her life, everything she knew would change once more.

[officialjessicajewett]

Short story (although I beg you to read the entire blog): I’m selling a drawing of the Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain house and donating the profits to preservation and restoration efforts.

BUY THE CHAMBERLAIN HOUSE ORIGINAL ART HERE. BUY THE CHAMBERLAIN HOUSE ART PRINTS HERE.

Now, let’s have the whole story. The links will be at the end of the blog again too. I don’t know if my efforts will be successful but my hope is you’ll feel my passion by the end of this blog.

We’re here to talk about something very near and dear to my heart – the Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain house in Brunswick, Maine. The porches that Chamberlain himself built on his home of over fifty years are in structural danger. Together, you and I are going to help. Buildings like this one belong to all of us.

Briefly, Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain was a Union general in the American Civil War who rose to that rank without formal military training (he was a professor before the war). He volunteered for service, and then later became a four-term governor of Maine, followed by president of Bowdoin College.

His wife, Fanny, was a rare example of an independent woman, having a career of her own as a music teacher and an artist before she decided to get married. The two of them were quite liberal in a lot of ways; believing women should be admitted to college wherever they chose, believing in the right to contraception and family planning, believing in racial equality, and so forth.

For a bit of context into the time and place the Chamberlain family lived, they knew Harriet Beecher Stowe, author of Uncle Tom’s Cabin, and attended church with her for years. Stowe sometimes held gatherings of Bowdoin College students in her home where she read chapters of Uncle Tom’s Cabin aloud. Chamberlain took Fanny to some of these readings while they were “dating” (dating wasn’t the term in those days).

National history largely forgot Chamberlain until Ken Burns heavily featured him throughout his documentary series, The Civil War. Then in the early 90s, Jeff Daniels actually played Chamberlain (seen in character on the left) in the film, Gettysburg, followed ten years later by playing him again in Gods and Generals.

His impact reaches far beyond Maine. Even I live in Atlanta and I’m just three miles from both Chamberlain Street and Oakland Cemetery where one of his best friends, General John B. Gordon, is buried.

You’re beginning to see why this family and this house matter to American history. We could sit here discussing Chamberlain’s fascinating life and undeniable affect on Maine history until we write a book. In fact, there are a lot of books about him, his military commands, and his family.

Not only did the family live in this house for over fifty years, but Henry Wadsworth Longfellow rented rooms in the same house before they bought it. Longfellow’s presence in the house is still felt today in the upstairs parlor where a portion of the wallpaper he put up is still there.

This is the house today. Originally, it was only one-and-a-half floors. Chamberlain had the entire structure moved to the corner of Potter and Maine, and then lifted about eleven feet off the ground to build an entirely new first floor addition. He designed most of the first floor himself, including a beautiful curved staircase that greeted guests upon walking through the ruby red foyer. It’s is one of the most architecturally important houses in the state of Maine due to the odd mixture of building and decorating styles blended together from different popular aesthetics in the nineteenth century – Cape Cod, Gothic Revival, and some Art Nouveau influences. Chamberlain wasn’t even a trained architect or interior designer.

The Pejepscot History Center (PHC) rescued the house from demolition in 1983 after decades of being rented out to Bowdoin College students. It had been chopped up into seven apartments and the interior was painted psychedelic colors when they acquired it. Almost 37 years under the careful stewardship of historians and volunteers has seen great strides toward preserving and restoring the home to the way it stood when Chamberlain lived there, but only partially so.

As of my last visit, renters still live in the upper portions of the house in, I believe, three apartments because renting brings in money for upkeep. Many of the unoccupied rooms upstairs haven’t yet been restored either, including all of the Chamberlain family bedrooms. The downstairs bathroom with original fittings and the master bedroom upstairs were being used for storage instead of teaching and tourism. It takes a lot of money to preserve and restore historical buildings. Brunswick is a small town and Maine is a small town state.

Why does the decay of an old house matter to me?

My family name is Jewett. That was, once upon a time, an influential name up in Maine, so much so that if you take a drive over to South Berwick, you can tour my ancestors’ home. I’m related to Sarah Orne Jewett and she left her home to Historic New England when she died. If you click on her name, it’ll take you to the website for that house. There, you’ll see the potential when important places have the resources for full, meticulous restoration and preservation. I have a vision for the Chamberlain home being just as preserved, studied, and restored as the Jewett house.

I’ve had the privilege of visiting the Chamberlain house twice. Tour guides were wonderful and well-informed, the gift shop was better than most battlefield gift shops, and there was a beautiful wheelchair ramp built onto the back porch – a rarity for historical landmarks. In the above photo, you’re looking at my first trip to the house twelve years ago when I was quite sick and underweight compared to now. Sick or not, historical preservation is my passion. So I went to Maine.

I’d like to show you more photos from my trips to the Chamberlain house. I quickly grabbed some from my collection so you can see how special this place is to many of us in the American history, women’s history, and Civil War fields.

In 2018 and 2019, the PHC raised $48,000 for serious restoration work on the exterior of the house. They even got the wheelchair ramp rebuilt on the back porch as a bonus. It was a really spectacular job and it all looks like it belonged on the house from the beginning, although General Chamberlain never had a ramp back there.

The old ramp and porch.

The new ramp and porch.

I’m showing you this because I want you to see what’s possible through the help of donations, foundations, and grants to not only restore historical landmarks but also to make them accessible to more people in the future. Places like this really depend on tourism for cash flow in addition to the few grants that are available. Tourism matters economically to small towns. It pays to have interesting landmarks, speaking in practical terms. We’re American. We understand that money talks.

Take a look at this photo of the house from the 1870s. Do you see the glass porch on the first floor, and then the open air porch above it? Pay attention to those.

I’m letting the Pejepscot History Center explain what happened. This is from their fundraiser page. I’m not sure if the fundraiser page is still open, but if it is, I’ll update this blog with a link.

Thanks to $48,000 raised from foundations and individuals over 2018-2019, we were able to undertake extensive exterior restoration work on the Joshua L. Chamberlain Museum starting in the spring of 2019.

Four faces of the building have now been lovingly restored, but in the process, considerable rot due to deferred maintenance in the past was found and corrected.

This led to fewer funds available for addressing the final part of this Phase I restoration effort: the two historic porches on the southeast corner of the building, which have some of the most interesting architecture on the building, and provide considerable structural support.

Unfortunately, they too have more deterioration than originally anticipated, necessitating additional funds to repair and rebuild the porches correctly.

Chamberlain raised the house 11 feet in the air in 1871 to add the lower story, thereby adding the first floor porch himself. He especially loved these porches. Over the years, he and the family enjoyed sitting on them and raising plants in the ample southern sunshine.

So I decided to make donations interesting. Individually, none of us can afford the $20,000 the PHC needs to raise to save Chamberlain’s porches from decaying and deteriorating. I know I can’t.

But what I can do is use my skills as an artist to draw attention to the house and make it worth your effort to help rescue the house. I’m a portrait artist most of the time, selling commissions of ordinary people as well as portraits set in highly researched historical scenes. To me, the Chamberlain house like all other historical houses are like living things with souls and sets of memories all their own.

The idea occurred to me that if people were willing to buy my portraits of people, perhaps they would be willing to buy a “portrait” of a house. I had already done a Christmas-themed piece of art showcasing the Chamberlain family’s church, First Parish, and I was interested in doing another piece anyway. If I could use my artistic drive to raise awareness for historical preservation, all the better.

So I got to work. Watch the video below to see me in action.

Yes, the manner in which I do my art is a bit different. We’ll go ahead and address the elephant in the room since many of you might be new to my website and my art. If you didn’t guess from my other photos, I’m physically disabled. I was born with a condition called Arthrogryposis and the nature of it means I need to do everything with the tools in my mouth, whether it’s writing, typing, chopping vegetables, sewing, or creating art. I’ve had about nineteen surgeries to date with a high probability of two more surgeries in 2020. Selling art is how I make extra money.

This time, however, I’m not making money from the art. I’ve decided to sell both the original and various sized prints made from the Chamberlain house piece for the benefit of the restoration project. When I sell this piece, I will make a donation from 80% of the profits (I need 20% for shipping, materials, etc.) to the Pejepscot History Center and I will make public all of the pertinent documents. That way everything is crystal clear and there are no questions.

This is the completed piece of art.

It took me about three weeks to complete it. I used a combination of Pentel mechanical pencils with .5 mm lead and Prismacolor Ebony pencils on 11×14-inch mixed media paper. Each detail of the house was researched and replicated to the best of my ability down to the placement of the trees, the curtains from the 1870s photographs, the wrought iron fence design, and the woodwork. If you look up top, you’ll see the famous chimney Chamberlain added after the war with the Maltese cross. He was a Fifth Corps officer and the Maltese cross was their insignia, a symbol found throughout the house.

You’ll be able to purchase this piece of art in my shop.

BUY THE CHAMBERLAIN HOUSE ORIGINAL ART HERE. BUY THE CHAMBERLAIN HOUSE ART PRINTS HERE.

The original, as in the actual piece of art I worked on, is 11×14 inches and costs $385.00 USD. Prints (5×7, 8×10, or 11×17) range in price from $12.00 USD to $24.00 USD and are made on high quality cardstock with a glossy finish.

Orders larger than 8×10 inches are shipped in a tube with the art rolled inside to protect it from rough postal workers. Orders 8×10 and smaller are shipped in flat bubble mailers reinforced with cardboard. All customers are given a tracking number so they can keep an eye on their packages with the postal service as well. Every order within the United States includes free shipping. Shipping for international orders will be calculated at the time of purchase.

Please consider purchasing this piece. It’s such a worthy cause. I realize there is a lot happening in the world, and I’m doing my part for those causes too, but we should care about American history too.  We need to be thinking about what kind of tangible legacy we’re going to leave our children and grandchildren. Wouldn’t you want to teach your descendants to celebrate and honor a man who believed in the qualities of a better world that we’re still fighting to create? What better way to honor him and his family than to help preserve the place they loved and called home for over half a century?

If you’re not interested in buying my art, that’s quite all right. There are choices.

One option is to let me collect the donations at PayPal.me/ArtByJessicaJewett and I’ll get it to the Pejepscot History Center for you. Please specify that you are donating to the Chamberlain house in the notes. I’ll send donations on the 15th of every month (when there are any) and I will give you copies of the receipts.

Or you can make a donation directly to the Pejepscot History Center, but please make sure you specify that your donation is for the Chamberlain house. They don’t have digital donations aside from the annual membership drives. The new 2020 membership drive hasn’t been created yet since they are closed until February 4.

To donate by mail:

Pejepscot History Center 159 Park Row Brunswick, ME 04011

By phone: Call (207) 729-6606 to provide a credit card number. They take all major cards.

In person: Drop by their offices at 159 Park Row during open hours.

The Pejepscot History Center is a non-profit, tax-exempt 501(c)(3) organization. Your gift is tax deductible to the full extent allowed by law.

I’m not affiliated with the Pejepscot History Center in any way, nor do I work for them. My fundraising efforts are as a private citizen.

Donation

Please consider making a donation to help me keep up with the cost of art supplies, living expenses, equipment related to my disability, and so forth. The minimum is set at $10.00. Thank you for your generosity.

$10.00

Follow me on social media!

Buy a piece of art to help with restoration projects on the Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain house. Find out why it's important. Short story (although I beg you to read the entire blog): I'm selling a drawing of the Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain house and donating the profits to preservation and restoration efforts.

[quickwitter]

MBAD-6 What happens when you die?

I grew up going to the Green Street Mortuary with my grandmother. Every visit we’d stop by and peer into the coffins, kneel, say a prayer, and move to the next. At the end of this exercise, after visiting all the viewing rooms,  we’d go shopping. On the way out the door Grandma would announce - “I knew 4 people today!”

I never felt the souls of those people hovering. And I never thought this was perhaps a weird activity for a 7-year old.

This is Evan and I at the prom in 1978. We were first loves which are deep and profound and ultimately painful. We were connected. We were engaged twice, promised I’d guess since there wasn’t a ring, but the intention was marriage, with no hesitation.

We broke up. He got married. He got divorced. We got back together. It was epic. We broke up again. He got married again. Our lives moved on. I owed him money so I found him.

Then…

We became friends. We both spent hours on the road several times a month and often had marathon conversations when boredom was the alternative. It was unstructured time and conversation flowed easily. It was not romantic.

In 2012 he had an accident and died.

This is the weird part - then, he started bugging me. Especially when I was on the road.

There are two parallel freeways that run vertically up through California’s Central Valley, the 5 freeway to the west, which I drove, and the 99 freeway to the east where Evan was buried. They join at the base of the Southern Sierras where the 99 ends, in Bakersfield, about an hour from Los Angeles. I never took the 99 as it winds through small towns and it slow going. The five is faster and closer to my destination which was already 375 miles away.

After Evan died, I’d be driving back to LA, and I’d start feel this nagging to visit the town off the 99 where he was buried. It happened all of the time. My trip door-to-door was already a 5 hour drive, to cut across to the 99 would add over an hour, and from there south, probably 2-3 hours total to the drive home.

I also didn’t know how the highways paired up. Which exit would take me all the way across the valley and then which way to his small town?

I don’t know if this was my projection or not, but it never happened before or since but I’d feel like I was arguing with him as I drove. I’m not going, I’d think, I’m tired and I just want to go home. Sometimes, after awhile, I’d feel like someone was wrapping their arms around me from behind in a hug. There was something comforting about it, so I’d put my hand where their arm would be and I’d keep it there for 20-30 minutes until the feeling would subside.

One day the nagging was strong. And I finally pulled off the freeway at an exit I’d never paid attention to. I had no idea where this road would take me. Would it go all the way across to the 99? Would it drop me off somewhere I didn’t want to be? Dead end? I didn’t have a map program on my phone.

California’s Central Valley is a huge agricultural basin and this road wound through dairy farms, vineyards, fruit orchards and fields of grain. I finally surrendered to the experience, I rolled down the window, turned up the radio and stopped along the way to take pictures.

When I finally did reach the 99 freeway, I had no idea where I was and whether his town was to the north or south of me. I just drove aimlessly south. Within 3 miles I hit the exit for his town. When I reached the town, I pulled off the road in front of a small bakery. I asked the woman at the counter where the cemetery was located and she asked who I was looking for? When I told her, she smiled and nodded saying, we catered his memorial service last fall.

I drove to the outskirts of town and found the cemetery. There was a woman getting into a car, but otherwise no one was around. When I drove up she got out of her car and walked toward me. She worked at the cemetery, I told her who I was looking for and she pointed me in the direction of his grave. She drove off leaving me alone. I wandered around until I located his mother’s grave, and then in an odd little side row, Evan’s. Once I was there I wasn’t really sure what to do. So I just sat down next to it and just spent some time there.

When I was driving home, I felt the hug for what turned out to be the last time.

Though I’m Catholic by birth, I figured when you died that was it. Make this life count. And I don’t know if it was Evan was reaching out to me, or a psychotic episode in my mind. I have no idea what he was hoping for me to do, other than visit, if it was him. But it did at least added a question mark to the possibility of an afterlife. 

I hope wherever Evan is, he’s at peace.

[awed-frog]

About your griffin post, about it being Protoceratops... It's not true. Mark Witton did an in-depth discussion about it.

Yes, about that - as I said in the notes, I’m grateful to the person who posted the link because I’d never heard of any of that, and the more diverse perspectives on stuff, the better. That said, a few things about his rebuttal (and yours):

1. When it comes to religion, mythology and folklore studies, there’s no such thing as ‘true’ and ‘not true’. You can categorize theories with other words, such as ‘likely’, ‘probable’, ‘possible’ and ‘utter troll dung’, but those are not exact sciences, so while it’s possible to follow a rigorous and scientific approach, it’s difficult (or even impossible) to prove anything in a definite way.

2. Adrienne Mayor’s book had an interdisciplinary approach. Mark Witton’s article did not. Now, this is more to Mayor’s credit than to Witton’s demerit, because you’re not going to contact fifteen colleagues for a blog post, but it’s worth noting that the lack of interdisciplinary research is a huge problem in academia, and it’s especially noticeable in ancient history (or maybe I notice it more because it’s my field, I don’t know). Since people tend to be either word-minded or numbers-minded, what you get is a series of extremely well-prepared specialists looking at stuff - while being completely ignorant of 98% of the world they’re examining. An ancient Greek scholar, for instance, will know a lot about linguistic shifts but squat about bread making, and that’s a bad way to understand a whole culture. Mayor, who’s more on the word side of the equation, made an effort to consult with science-oriented colleagues; Witton didn’t do that (although, as I said, that’s perfectly normal for the writing format he was using) and it shows.

3. About his first argument, ie that griffins are found in Near Eastern art: who cares? What you need to do here is not look at how you see the world, but at how a Greek person would see the world. Near Eastern griffins are not relevant - not because they don’t exist (they do) or because they’re not objectively fascinating (they are). They’re not relevant because they’re not mentioned in this context by Greek texts. None of the authors Mayor discusses made a connection between the Central Asia griffins and the Persian griffins. Maybe they didn’t know about the other ones, maybe they saw them as different animals - I honestly don’t know. But if they didn’t draw a connection between the two thing, then neither should we. I know mythology books tend to have categories on ‘monsters’ and offer enthralling images of ‘sirens’, ‘giants’ and ‘demons’ from around the world, but the fact is, how a specific culture understands that monster is likely to differ a lot from what their neighbours think of them. Sphinxes are a good example. There’s the Egyptian sphinx and the Greek sphinx - those are never discussed in the same papers because, despite the fact they do have superficial similarities, they’re very different creatures in what concerns their role in their respective societies’ religious and conceptual landscapes.

4. About his second argument, ie that protoceratops bones are not as widespread as she suggests, and one wouldn’t trip on skulls every two seconds - again, so what? As long as those fossils can be placed in that area at the right time, I’m good. This is not a scientific experiment the Scythians are carrying out: one skull is enough to suggest a story behind it, one trader sharing that story in his travels is enough to make it grow, and one bartender telling Herodotus about it is enough to validate it. The Amazons are a very good example of how that works. The idea of a tribe of women warriors had fascinated the Greek for centuries (they’re mentioned in the Iliad) before Herodotus wrote about them confirming they were real people doing real stuff. Western scholars have been scoffing at him ever since - and they kept scoffing until Soviet archaeologists started finding graves of women who’d been buried with weapons. Now - did archaeologists ever find a cemetery that was 100% badass female warriors? No. Did they find a cemetery that was 50% female warriors? Also no. To the best of our current knowledge, some of those Siberian-based tribes had - occasionally - warrior queens, or high-status women who used weapons. They were not Amazons in the traditional sense of the word, but it’s not that hard to imagine what must have happened there: one foreign delegation headed by an armed queen would have been enough to make any Greek go wtf and ooooohh, because that would have been so exotic - Greek women didn’t use weapons (and neither did Persian women, or Egyptian women - cultures some Greeks would have been familiar with) - so the sight of that must have left quite a deep mark. And since that’s how humans work, one warrior queen can become ‘a whole race of man-hating badass women’ in two seconds flat. I mean, we know that’s how storytelling works, and what happens with dubious or spotty record keeping, but also - how many times has that happened to you? You meet one Korean guy, he’s the only Korean you know and he’s an asshole - before you know it, you start to assume that’s what all Koreans are like. It’s just how we’re wired, and I guess it was supposed to be about protecting us from poisonous plants (‘Sure, that other red berry almost killed my brother, but what about this one?’ - that would have seen us extinct in no time), but it’s also something we need to keep in check, because no - people are not ‘all the same’ just because they belong to the same ‘tribe’. 

5. Another argument he makes is that Central Asia to Greece is rather a long distance for Chinese whispers and legend swapping, and that’s so wrong I don’t even know what to say. This is exactly what I meant when I said people can be experts in their field (in Witton’s case, paleontology) while being pretty ignorant about others, because the ancient world was way more connected than what we imagine it to be. We know that even in prehistoric times, there were crowded trade routes moving from the Baltics to Greece, that people travelled hundreds of miles to go to some sanctuary on a Scottish island, and that yeah - ideas and legends did travel with goods, sometimes in a very lasting way. The traces of Buddhist doctrine, for instance, are all over Greek philosophy. This is a subject that’s only recently been explored because people like to believe Greek culture was born fully-formed without any foreign influences, but the studies on the exchanges between India and Greece - well before Alexander’s times - are fascinating. So no, I’m not disturbed in the slightest by the fact news about ‘griffin skulls’ seem to have travelled from the Gobi to Athens. That stuff happened, and as I mentioned above, all you need is one person - one guy who’s well-spoken enough, convincing enough, or convinced enough - one guy who doesn’t want Greek traders anywhere near his gold-stuffed mountains - talking to a second person. Today we’ve only got about 10% of Greek literature, but Greeks were an inquisitive bunch, and the country was littered with self-styled historians, geographers and anthropologists who spent their time either traveling around or paying drinks to whomever seemed foreign enough to be interesting. That method has limits, by the way - I myself once invented a fair bit of my town’s history because I was sixteen and bored and those tourists had seen me with my Latin textbook and asked me if I knew anything about Roman settlements in the area, so. I mean - half of a Greek historian’s paragraph start with ‘A man in Samos told me’ - God knows who they were even talking to. A local priest keen to increase tourism, the village idiot - anything’s possible.

6. Finally, something else that’s just uh is how Witton says, why single out griffins? What about other monsters? And, well, that’s the whole point of Mayor’s book. We know for sure ancient people found fossils; what we’re trying to figure out is what impact (if any) that had on their worldview. For instance, fossils did not suggest the idea of evolution, but they did mess with (or confirm) some of their religious beliefs. I’m hoping to summarize other chapters of Mayor’s book in more detail, but just a couple of examples: the Greeks, like many other ancient people, believed their ancestors to have been much taller and stronger than themselves -

(This, by the way, it’s another tantalizing way the outside world may - or may not - have influenced thought and belief: did the Greeks believe that because of the monumental architecture older cultures had left behind, or did those staggering things confirm an idea that had sprung from a different source? Like, humans tend to be pessimistic mofos, so it’s plenty possible you’d assume people are becoming smaller and weaker just because, and next the finding of a Daedalic temple just confirms that for you, because how the hell could anyone built that and Jesus Christ? Or maybe you find that temple first, and adjust your theology accordingly. We just don’t know. Hell - we’re struggling to explain contemporary religious phenomena - everything and anything from ISIS to spontaneous lynchings in India to cults - we have zero chance of fully understanding Greek religion in a way that allows us to say, ‘that’s right’ or ‘that’s wrong’.) 

- and they also believed in monstrous giants dying in riverbeds (many Greek rivers are named after giants). Both things are probably related to the giant-ass femurs which kept cropping up in fields and - well - riverbeds, so no - griffins are not the lone exception. We know of people finding stuff they assume to be giant bones, divine cattle, cyclops - if you can think of it, there’s probably a fossil for it.

Ultimately, I just want to say: Mayor does offer some rather sweeping statements, but, then again, her book is aimed at a general audience. Too many conditionals and no one’s buying it (or understanding it). On the other hand, she also never pretends to hold any Universal Truth over the subject she’s exploring, because that’s how (good) academia works: you expect (and encourage) rebuttals, corrections, discussions. That’s how we progress. 

Personally, what attracts me to these theories is that they’re part of a movement that’s arising - bloody finally - acknowledging man is not the centre of the known and unknown universe. 

Until very recently, we were told the physical world has zero influence on what we think and how we feel - because we’re a superior animal, that is, so that stuff doesn’t touch us in the same way it does other (lower) beasts. And while that is true to an extent - if there’s an inconvenient river, we move it - saying that the world around us has no impact on our souls, brains and way of life - that’s just laughably pretentious. We now know something as banal as the weather can completely transform our mood and our decision-making, even on the long term - that trees make us smarter, that urban landscapes are likely to give migraines - there are studies in experimental archaeology in how landscape influences thought (like, you bury someone in a fetal position because the ground is too hard, you make yourself feel better by imagining he’s like a baby in the mother’s womb and will one day be reborn), and a lot of new ideas about folklore and religion. This line of studies on fossils is one example of that; another is how geography impacts theology - I don’t remember who it was, but I know someone suggested the reason human sacrifice is more common in tropical cultures is because in a jungle, death will immediately (and very visibly) feed new life, whereas in colder climates the relation is not that apparent. And again, it may never be possible to prove right and wrong there. Even if we had a time machine, these things are tricky to understand. People think of faith and belief in different ways, approach their religion through their own filter, will pretend to go along with stuff for personal gain. Who knows. The only thing we can be sure of is that those fossils would have been understood differently by different people. To some, that would have been proof of mythical monsters. To others, a way to strengthen their flock’s faith and thus cement social cohesion. And to others still, it was probably just a way to make money - a temple displaying a ‘griffin skull’ would have led to people selling griffin statues and opening griffin-themed restaurants, same as you see today in places like Lourdes or Fatima. Humans are messy. History is messy. That’s what’s beautiful (and infuriating) about both.

[hellagayweird0]

Jay’s Season 14 Episode Chat

Episode 5

Enjoy my random thoughts!

~ Excuse me, what is this girl doing alone?  I love her but WHY IS THERE NO ADULT WITH HER SHE’S SMALL AND FRAGILE

~  Oooooooklahoma, where this girl just runs off on her ooooown

~  I love a nice field trip to a graveyard, someone is coming for Ms. Frizzle’s career 

~ Vlogging hunters, I LOVE THIS.  Also me if I was a hunter 😂

~ I think I’m in love with Maggie.  Can we get some nice JayxMaggie fics please? 😂

~ MAGGIE MY WIFE NOOOO!  Excuse me, whoever just dared to put their hands on her, DON’T HURT HER OR I SWEAR-

~ TEACHER SAM UM YES PLEASE

~ Fuuuuuuuuck he looks good

~ Sam: “Let’s get to work.”  Me: *breaks out into song* “LET’S GET DOWN TO BUSINESS-”

~ SAM’S LITTLE CUP I’M CRYING 😂 Is it just him being a giant of a human or is that cup tiny I NEED ANSWERS

~ Sam with a whistle GIMME

~ Sam creating hunter check-ins is giving me LIFE.  HE’S. A. SMART. BEAN.

~ Hey Dean sass, ima need you to tone yourself down

~ CAS AND JACK ARE ON A NICE FATHER/SON HUNTING TRIP TOGETHER THIS IS WHAT THE SHOW NEEDS AND I SUPPORT IT 100%

~ Sam tippity tappin’ away (have I mentioned I love this man?)

~ Dean’s reaction to this guy in the cemetery is a mood

~ I loooove this guy meeting them at the house 😂

~ OK BOBBY AND MARY I SEE YOU LOOKIN’ LIKE MICHAEL AND CAS, WHAT CHA TRYING TO SAY, HUH?  WRITERS, ANYONE?  ANSWERS?

~ BOBBY SASS YES WE NEED THIS

~ Bobby said idjits I REPEAT BOBBY SAID IDJITS

~ Ok but Maggie shouldn’t have been out there alone in the first place, just saying

~ Jared has forever made “Milk Run” funny (he said stuff at a con) and I can’t stop giggling at Bobby’s line

~ Woah woah, Bobby, I’m gonna need you to stop yelling at my Sammy or I will somehow throw you back into the AU myself

~ Bobby: “She wasn’t ready!”  My mind:

~ “A real leader would’ve seen that a mile away.” THE FUCK BOBBY??  HOW DARE YOU?  SAM IS A REAL LEADER, HE’S DOING HIS BEST, AND HE’S DOING AN AMAZING JOB.  YES OF COURSE MAGGIE SHOULD’VE NEVER BEEN ON HER OWN, BUT DON’T BLAME SAM FOR HER GETTING TAKEN BY THE MONSTER.  AND DON’T SAY HE ISN’T A REAL LEADER.  (I actually got so mad at this part 😂 no one says stuff like that to my boy and gets away with it)

~ YES MARY, THANK YOU!!  LISTEN TO MAMA WINCHESTER!

~ No Sammy, Bobby isn’t right, this isn’t your fault, DON’T PUT YOURSELF DOWN

~ I mean, I agree Mary, BUT, he was honestly born to be hooked on demon blood and use his powers (you know, THE ONES THE SHOW JUST CASUALLY FORGETS) for not so great things BUT OK 😂

~ Welcome to the show/family, no one wants to talk about anything

~ OH HI JOHN NICE FOR THEM TO MENTION YOU 😂 (i still don’t like you a ton but hello)

~ MARY NOW IS NOT THE TIME FOR YOU TO “PUT YOURSELF OUT THERE”, FOCUS ON MICHAEL AND THE OTHER EVILS OF THE WORLD BEFORE YOU DO ANYTHING LIKE THAT

~ I LOVE MARY AND SAM BONDING MOMENTS, CAN WE HAVE MORE IN FUTURE EPISODES PLEASE AND THANK YOU

~ “You think I was too hard on your brother back there.”  Me: 

~ I need a scene where Dean goes off on Bobby for yelling at his baby brother, ANYONE ELSE WITH ME?

~ Dean, so help me, if you insult the Sammy beard ONE MORE TIME

~ Aw Sam respecting his mother and what she wants LOOK AT HIM BEING AN ADORABLE BABY

~ Creepy abandoned shed, great

~ BOBBY WTF DON’T RUN OFF ON YOUR OWN HAVE YOU LEARNED NOTHING??

~ I love when monsters turn into chalk dust

~ “What are you doing in my house?” WHY WASN’T THAT THE FIRST QUESTION OUT OF YOUR MOUTH?

~ How tf did you get cleaned up so quickly and easily, Dean 😂

~ Oh sweetie, anything (besides Destiel apparently *COUGH*) is possible in this universe

~ “I’m not really up for a heart-to-heart.” It’s ok, Dean never is either 

~ This girl 😂 “I don’t want to talk about what’s going on.....but here’s the entire story-”

~ I’M SO PROUD OF DEAN BEING A GREAT LISTENER AND GIVING ADVICE

~ Dean: *gives this speech about letting the past go and stuff*  Girl: “Is that what you do?”  Me: “NO HE BOTTLES UP HIS FEELINGS AND REFUSES TO TALK ABOUT ANYTHING GOING ON-”

~ Ok wait I’m sorry, was Sam just waiting for them to finish talking so he could walk down the hall? 😂 What took him so long?

~ What kind of flashlight has an on/off switch on the bottom?

~ Yay, my husband found my wife 😂

~ SAM YOU GOT THE CHALK DUST TOO

~ Aw no Maggie this isn’t your fault at all, don’t blame yourself

~ WHAT ARE YOU DOING BOBBY

~ I love when AU!Bobby has a kid

~ Oh that’s a lil bit of a stab

~ MARY TO THE RESCUE

~ FFS, WHY DOES NO ONE BACK UP WHEN SOMEONE IS WALKING TOWARDS THEM?  IF THEY DID, THEY WOULDN’T GET HIT.  THESE CHARACTERS HAVE LEARNED NOTHING 😂

~ Close your everything, he’s gonna turn into cha- and there he goes

~ Dean, you motherfucker, you could’ve used any line to get her out of the room, AND YOU CHOSE “Could you go make me a sandwich?” YOU KNOW, ONE OF THE MOST SEXIST LINES OUT THERE 😂 Writers, wtf??

~ YES QUEEN, GET THAT SASS

~ Wait a second, if the djinn is taking blood from this guy, wouldn’t people notice the bags filling up instead of going down??  AM I THE ONLY ONE THINKING ABOUT THIS? 😂

~ Oh Michael, you little fu-

~ Aww Maggie *hugs*

~ WTF HAPPENED WITH THE DJINN, WHY DID HE FREAK OUT WHEN HE WAS DOING HIS THING TO DEAN, WHY DID DEAN GET A BURST OF ENERGY AND BEAT THIS GUY SUDDENLY?  I’M TELLING YOU, MICHAEL ISN’T GONE

~ Ok, so we know now that Michael set up traps for everyone.  AWESOME

~ AW THEY’RE ALL SO HAPPY TO SEE MAGGIE, I’M SCREAMING, I LOVE THIS

~ YES DEAN GIVE YOUR BROTHER THE PRAISE HE DESERVES

~ I’m still mad at Bobby for yelling at Sam, but I want to hug him right now.  I feel so bad for him

~ SHE DID LEARN FROM THE BEST, YES

~ I almost had a heart attack at “Boys, we need to talk.” I THOUGHT THERE WAS GONNA BE A FULL ON RELATIONSHIP CONFESSION

~ DONNA YAY HI MOM, also of course she has a garden gnome 😂 I love her so much

~ THANK YOU FOR TALKING WITH SAM, BOBBY

~ Sam’s lil smile *collapses*

~ MARY STEPPING BACK INTO THAT MOM ROLE IS SO NICE AND I APPRECIATE TF OUT OF THIS

~ GARTH I MISS YOU MY SWEET BOY

~ Lol yes buddy system, I support this 😂

~ WHO WAS SAM CALLING

~”Traps for hunters.  Friggin’ awesome.” My thoughts exactly

~ “From what I- from what we- ....from what he did.” THAT LINE RIGHT THERE IS SO IMPORTANT!  Dean is finally accepting that what Michael (not Dean, not Michael AND Dean, but just Michael) did wasn’t him and he isn’t to blame at all.  This was a needed line, and I appreciate the writers for putting that in.  It means SO MUCH

~ Dean can’t get a fuckin’ break, poor baby.  CAN WE GIVE DEAN A WELL DESERVED BREAK?

~ Yeah, let’s beat this son of a bitch (even though I actually really like Michael 😂)

Alright, well, that’s the episode chat!  I really liked this episode a ton.  I miss Cas and Jack, but they’re off together, so that’s nice.  WE GET CHARLIE NEXT EPISODE, WHICH I’M SO EXCITED FOR!  I’ve missed my AU wife.  I hope we get Rowena back soon.  Ketch too (I guess 😂)