#having previously accepted that she would have to write such prescriptions

[esoanem]

Gothmog clearly understands that Someone has Done Some Bullshit to me and I require Affection from her, but sadly does not understand that in doing so is preventing me from taking the necessary response

[softlittleheartsandsparkles]

what do you mean by wait time? I thought you were canadian? Don't you guys have free healthcare?

So, unfortunately in canada, Free healthcare doesn't mean "timely" health care, or getting whatever care whenever you want it. Its sadly not like poppin' in for a hair cut, or showing up for dental work. (dental is private still. I'm fairly sure. ) Like health care in canada is very very VERY backed up. It was like that prior to covid but it covid defs I feel like exhausted existing gaps. Like in BC - because I lived there for awhile, and I feel comfortable speaking about BC. there's areas were people don't have access to GPS/family drs and no walkins. (Or didn't in 2022) Like Canada also has health care deserts. Interior of BC is like that. (Outside of the vancouver/greater vancouver area. Anything outside of there, its very spotty depending on areas.) Which means too people sadly have to go to hospitals. (And this sucks because people need prescriptions.) Like it wasn't uncommon to see questioned posed on fb groups aimed for the city I lived in for 9ish months. About does that city have a walk-in/gp/family dr. And are waitlists being taken, etc. I heard this question even at a pharmacy, a lady came in with her small child, who had what she believed is a ear infection& wanted drops. She was told they can't give drops, she needs a prescription. So she asked are there clinics in the area? She was told there's no clinics local - and she'd have to take her wee one to the hospital. This is the same message fb groups would have. No clinicals locally, hospital. I couldn't even get breast imaging done in that town. you can't self referral. You need a gp/family dr/ walk in to give you the paperwork/do referral. ^^;' Which is one of the things I had to wait for. Until I moved again, to Alberta. & in alberta, my GP isn't close to me. He's almost 2 hours away. But he was also the only one accepting patients when we moved. And this is closer than my previously dr in bc. I do see some work towards offering more options that are in person. (everyone constantly pushes people to telus and there telehealth. Telus is a phone/internet/cable company. For americans this would be like AT&T getting into the health market.) I've noticed pharmacys now can write scripts for mild health issues, or for things like diabetes. (YAY) I do see some family drs opening up now, collecting lists of patients, and some walkins. (also some walkins are ran by pharmacists, so they are again for "mild" causes. Like probably could go in with a rash from your squashes and be like 'this itchy, i touched squash leafs' pharmacist be like 'new to gardening huh? alright well uh. here." - Squash leafs can cause rashes. just so folks know lol. ) But yeah. I also don't think this is all of canada. I can only speak about what I see locally. But health care in canada is extremely backed up, and depending on service and severity medical professionals believe you are, (I.e. they believe your moderate/mild vs severe) you could be waiting. I've been waiting on my referral since March this year. Even with the rectum bleeding i'm still counted as "mild/moderate". & I won't be able to "see" my specialist until late sept. (And what I mean by "see" I mean, we have a phone call aptoment scheduled... from there hopefully I get referral for colonoscopy, and for follow up that can be in person. but I honestly don't know.)

[voltage-vixen]

Kidnapped by the Kings (Request)

The Epilogue to the Epilogue? *I apologize if I misunderstood, but I interpreted this request to write about what happened to the MC and Taki after they returned home after their wedding and the kidnapping situation was finally put behind him. This is a continuation from the series Kidnapped by the Kings, and you can find the previous epilogue HERE.

*Also, the ending is not smutty, but suggestive. 

 One month after the wedding:

“Yosuke, I can’t find her anywhere,” Taki barked into the phone, “And don’t tell me to calm down! In case you didn’t quite understand me the first time, my pregnant wife is MISSING just shortly after being kidnapped not too long ago!”

Taki had left work and returned home to their new house a few hours earlier than normal, only to find MC wasn’t there. He tried calling her phone several times, but kept repeatedly getting sent to voicemail. Flashbacks of that awful period of her being taken crept into his mind, which led him to frantically call Yosuke for assistance in finding MC.

“For once can you not be an idiot and listen to me?” Taki rebuked to Yosuke’s urges to remain calm.

He was about to take his frustrations and let loose on the carefree investor, when the sound of the front door caused him to toss his phone out of his hand, and race over in a hopeful anticipation that his wife was the one returning.

“Taki? Are you already home?” MC’s sweet voice called out, as she stood in the doorway removing her jacket and shoes.

Taki let out a huge sigh of relief, when he saw that MC indeed was safely standing in front of him, appearing to be calm and unharmed.

“Oh, thank god!” Taki muttered, while running over to wrap her into a tight hug.  

“Oof! Taki, stop squishing me!” MC grumbled, as she gently pushed him away. “I ran out of the prescription the doctor had prescribed to me, so I had to make an emergency trip to the pharmacy.”

Now that Taki was assured that MC was free from harm, anger began to boil within him. How dare she act that irresponsibility given what had previously happened to her?! He should have walked away to give himself sometime to cool off, but MC’s lackadaisical attitude about the well being of herself and their child proved to be too much for Taki to ignore.

“And given everything that has happened, it’s astonishing to me that you would think going out in public by yourself was an intelligent idea,” Taki scolded, and pointed to her swollen stomach. “Especially considering how vulnerable you are in your current condition.”

Taken aback by the atypical harshness that Taki was spouting, MC tried to blink back the tears that were now forming but was unsuccessful. A whimper escaped her lips, and MC loudly sniffled as she scurried into their bedroom.

“Sorry for that fact that picking up my medication classifies me as a total idiot in your eyes,” she snapped.

Taki attempted to chase after MC, but she slammed the door before he could make it over, clicking the lock shut behind her. The sounds of her sobs caused Taki to frantically try and shake the knob loose, yet despite his efforts the door refused to budge open.  

“MC, if you don’t let me in, I’m going to be forced to take extreme measures to get this door open,” Taki called out.

MC still didn’t bother to respond back. Fortunately, Taki suddenly remembered the lock opener Yosuke gifted him that he stowed away in one of the kitchen cabinets. Taki never actually thought there would come a time he would grateful for one of Yosuke’s gifts. Today he was so overjoyed, he would have gone as far as hugging Yosuke if he was standing in front of him.

After a few moments of fiddling around with the lock, Taki successfully opened the door and immediately raced over to MC who was lying on the bed, tightly clutching a pillow to her chest.

“Hey, are you alright?” Taki whispered, while he climbed into the bed to lie next to her. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so, so sorry. I’m the only one that’s an idiot here.”

Remaining silent, MC snuggled up closer to Taki, who graciously accepted this as a sign to softly stroke her head, and massage small circles on her back.

“I overreacted and I took it out on you,” Taki confessed, “When you were taken from me, my whole word stopped dead. My life was meaningless without you in it, and when I thought you and our baby were gone today, my heart shattered into millions of pieces. This still doesn’t justify the manner I spoke to you in, and I deeply regret my poor actions. I’m begging you, MC…..please forgive me? I’ll do anything to make things right with you.”

MC could hear the true sincerity in his pleading voice and flipped over to smile at him. She giggled when she saw the hopeful look in his eyes and offered her assurance by planting a kiss on his lips.

“I forgive you. I hated being kept away from you for so long, so I understand the feelings behind your freak you. Don’t let it happen again though,” MC honestly responded.

MC climbed on top of Taki to straddle him, and was now looking down at her husband.

“Will you really do anything to make it up to me?” MC purred, grinding her hips down into him.

Taki exhaled sharply and held back a groan. Since the progression of her pregnancy, MC normally felt self-conscious about taking the lead on top, so this was a glorious surprise for the now turned on man.

“Hmm, anything for you,” Taki moaned, “Please keep doing that.”

“Only if you make sweet love to me then.”

Taki desperately nodded and MC leaned down to kiss him. The passionate tension between them had begun to intensify, until MC pulled away.

“Oh, and I want ice cream afterwards. Lots of it, so you better not hold out on me!”

Taki burst into laughter, admiring MC’s ability to be able to think of food at a time like this.

“You drive a hard bargain, but you got yourself a deal!”

They gazed at each other with adoration and thanked the lucky stars for their reconciliation. Taki didn’t quite understand what he did in life to deserve this type of happiness, but he couldn’t wait to see what was in store for them, and the newest addition of their family.

“No matter what happens, I’ll never allow anything to ever come between us again.” Taki solemnly vowed.

Wanting to catch MC off guard, he tickled her thighs and pulled her into an embrace, ready to fulfill the first part of his promise for the evening.

L365 Masterlist

@agustd54, @kageseirelle, @joanneshiba

[scripttorture]

Do you have any advice for a character who was tortured well before the story begins, who's already done a lot of recovery? I'm thinking current symptoms are forgetfulness, chronic pain, and occasional nightmares; previously, had issues with depression, self-harm, pain-killer addiction, and more frequent nightmares/insomnia, but these are under control now. I don't want to suggest the recovery was easy or fast, but also don't want to spend a lot of time on it instead of on what's happening now.

Youknow I think this is actually a really nice place to start. When somany stories seem to focus on torture itself and the hugedebilitating effect it has on people- it’s nice to see a storythat’s more focused on life afterwards.

There’sa lot of quick, short things you could do to make sure you’ve shownrecovery isn’t fast or easy while still showing it’s possible.You may not want to use all of these and I don’t you’ll have to.I’m going to put as many ideas out as I can so that you can choosea combination that works best for you.

Forstarters you could have the character state how long ago they weretortured. Presumably the fact they were tortured comes up in thestory at some point? Adding a few more words to give an approximatedate instantly shows readers this wasn’t quick.

Ifit’s a modern setting I’d say brief references to medication arealso appropriate.

Ina historical setting the character might be using herbal medicines,many of which are easy to grow. It’s probably not a good idea tohave the character taking some of the old herbal medicines in amodern setting (because they interact badly with common modernmedicines) but they might still grow the plants simply from interest.St John’s Wort is one of the common plants associated with treatingdepression in Europe. It’s a pretty and easy to grow little shrubwith pretty yellow flowers.

Havingthe character mention or think about people who have supported themand treated their mental health issues would also work. This doesn’tnecessarily have to be a therapist, religious leaders often playedthis sort of role in the past.

Thecombination of chronic pain and a pain killer addiction that’s nowunder control gives you an opportunity to discuss the recoveryprocess. Because a lot of people who don’thave chronic pain will automatically suggest pain killers whensomeone mentions they’re in pain. And I think a lot of people arestill quite unaware of the scale of the opioid epidemic in thewestern world*.

Thiskind of interaction wouldn’t necessarily lead to the characteropening up about their experience of addiction. But it’s definitelysomething they could complain to a close friend about or somethingthat could bring up bad memories if you’re writing from their pointof view.

Ifyou’re writing the character as still having the occasionalnightmare then that’s another symptom that can be used to promptdiscussion of their past. Both in the positive sense of how farthey’ve come (this doesn’t happen often any more) and in thenegative sense that this does still have a marked effect on theirlife.

Dependingon the kind of self harming behaviour your character could haveobvious scars.

Alot of people who’ve self harmed are ashamed of their scars andcover them up. Which effects the kinds of clothing they feelcomfortable in and the situations they feel comfortable in.

Somepeople tattoo over their scars. Depending on the design and the skillof the artist someone looking closely at the tattoo might be able tosee the scar. This can be used in a story to prompt conversations orsimply a realisation.

Somepeople will straight up ask about scars. Some people will stare.Whether the character is hiding scars, reclaiming them or justcomfortable showing them, you can use their behaviour to show howthings have changed for them, how they’ve improved.

Andof course self harming behaviour can include a lot of non scarringactivities. It can mean things like going to the gym and overexercising without eating, creating a state of pain and exhaustion.

Behaviourlike this can be harder for other characters to spot evidence of andsomething like that is probably best brought up in terms of the stepsthe character is taking to avoid those behaviours. To extend theexample I used, may be the character stops going to the gym, resolvesnot to buy memberships and tries to allocate time for relaxing andnot doing anything physically active. All of these behaviours mightlook unusual to other characters and that can be used to bring up theprogress the character has made.

Itmay sound like a strange thing but one of the common things I’vefound difficult with my own mental health is the common conversationstarter ‘How are you?’ Because if someone is having a bad mentalhealth day then it’s often not socially acceptable to answerhonestly.

Thecharacter is still going to have bad days. It’s clear to me thatyou understand that from the way you’ve set out their symptoms andhow they’ve recovered. There are going to be points in the storywhere they’ll struggle. Having other characters point out how muchbetter they are at those points is another way to reference theprogress they’ve made.

Becausesometimes any kind of struggle can feel like failure. Having someonesay ‘actually you handled that so much better then you would havelast year’ shows the reader that the character was worse before andhelps build up the relationships between two characters.

Selfdepreciating and dark humour seems to be very common among survivors.It can be used to reference the character’s past problems and showa little of the character’s personality.

Ialso like using anecdotes. Giving a character a story around one ormore of their symptoms. I like using them because they can functionon multiple levels within a story, doing a lot of different jobs atonce. It doesn’t just establish the character’s symptoms andtheir past, it’s part of a conversation with someone else. So itcan be used to tell us a little about the relationship the charactershave and build that relationship.

Itcan even prompt characters to change the way they act and hence thecourse of the plot.

Thefirst example that’s springing to mind from my own writing didn’tinvolve a torture survivor but I think it might help show you what Imean.

Thesetwo characters have spent most of the book not really interacting inany meaningful way. The main character recently lost someone she wasvery close to, a family friend. However this friend was a torturerunder the old regime and as a result she doesn’t feel like she canreally express her grief. She’s been angry and closed off.

Whenshe finally manages to speak civilly to the second character she’ssurprised to find that he’s understanding and instantly links herbehaviour to her loss. A loss that most of the people around herhaven’t acknowledged as a loss.

Andhe tells her a story about his grandmother, a soldier under the oldregime who took part in atrocities. It’s not a long story, or aparticularly long conversation. But it’s doing a lot of narrativework, telling the reader’s about the back story of a new characterwhile building a stronger relationship with an existing character.

Whateverthe details of your character’s backstory you can do the samething.

Thefinal thing that springs to mind is using coping strategies to showhow things have changed for your character over time.

Yourcharacter probably has a lot of strategies in place for dealing withforgetfulness and pain. Those strategies are going to be prettydifferent to the ones that helped the character with depression,addiction and self harm.

Youcan have characters comment on changing behaviour but you can alsouse changes in the way the character has structured their environmentor changes in the types of things they consider essential.

Sofor instance one of the common things that comes to my mind fordealing with forgetfulness is lists, post it notes and writing onhands. The character might have taken to carrying pens and bits ofpaper or moved things around at home so there’s more space to putnotes in visible places.

Whereasthe strategies someone might use to deal with addiction could be-keeping really busy and staying away from the places/things that theyassociate with their addiction.

Andthat means to an outsider it could look as though the character has‘suddenly’ become a lot more scatter brained. Because suddenlythey’re not rushing about all the time and referring to bits ofpaper every few minutes.

Italso means their living space might have gone from very sparse and‘neat’ (as a lot of reminders were removed) to ‘cluttered’and full of bits of paper.

Someof these observations would need to be spelled out for readers tounderstand all of what they convey. But describing these things earlycan be used to foreshadow an explicit discussion later.

That’sa lot of potential suggestions and I’m sure it’s not everythingyou could possibly do. But the story doesn’t need absolutelyeverything, it just needs enough to get the point across.

Choosethe strategies that appeal to you and that you think could add toyour story. Focus on the discussions that you think are essential tounderstanding the character and the plot.

Andtry not to worry to much. It sounds like you’ve done a lot of workso far and a lot of reading.

Ihope that helps. :)

*Thisis a term used to refer to the over prescription of addictive opioidpain killers. Now for a lot of people who live with intense painthese medicines are essential. Opioids remain the best pain killerswe have. But they are also incredibly dangerous. Over prescriptioncan (and in the west has) result in a high death rate from drugoverdoses.

Availableon Wordpress.

Disclaimer

[wolfpawn]

When Ghosts Come For Us

Chapter 16

NOTE This is based on the movie Crimson Peak, so if any of the subject matter in that was uncomfortable for you, you will find this similar. I will *NOT* be describing incest in this, it will only be implied, same as the movie.WARNING None.

Also, I do not own any image or gif used in this story.

It was not easy, dealing with an impaired person, but Charlotte was diligent in her work and ensured to spend hours a cleaning, grooming, dressing and caring for Lucille. She spoke of utterly mundane matters, to the extent that she one day simply stated what the workmen used to plaster the walls, just to irk her. She fed her, ensuring she was well cared for, though adding foods she knew Lucille was not overly fond of from time to time, and most importantly, she instructed Thomas to spend time with her also. It soon came to Charlotte’s attention that though Thomas would spend time with his sister, it was more often Charlotte’s company he sought when possible. He spoke with her on any subject he could think of, or on occasion, they did not speak at all, but the silences were comfortable. The one concern was, Charlotte rarely had much time before she had to do something else for Lucille or the house. Feeling guilty, Thomas watched as she kept the house going, tended to Lucille and in many areas, tended to him.

With Lucille no longer able for particular things, he also found his evenings to include more reading, engineering, or as had happened on two of the nights, he went to bed with Charlotte, finding himself looking at her as she gently fell asleep, yearning to be closer to her. With Lucille no longer forcing him to remain aloof, he wanted nothing more than to be closer to Charlotte in every manner.

It had been two weeks since he returned from Newcastle-Upon-Tyne to his sister’s ill health when Thomas looked at his workroom door, having heard Charlotte knock gently on his door. When he opened it, she was looked at him apologetically. ‘Lottie, is everything alright?’

‘Yes, I just did not want to disturb you.’

‘No, please. You are always welcome to come here and talk with me.’ He opened the door fully and made room for her to walk in. ‘It is not much.’

‘It is important to you.’ She stated. ‘Ergo, it is most important.’ She looked around at the old worn murals on the wall. ‘This was your nursery.’

‘It was.’ He stood watching her.

‘Were you confined here?’

‘For our entire childhoods, even when a tutor came, it was here I was taught.’

‘Our house was never so grand, but there were a few rooms we were permitted and many we were not, my parents usually ensured they remained in the ones we were not permitted in.’ She nodded. ‘Daughters were not worthy of tuition.’

‘But you read and write?’

‘Nancy, the housekeeper believed every woman should know how to keep her home. I am also proficient at keeping a ledger.’ She smiled. ‘One thing about ensuring the only time they saw us was to hurt us meant that we had plenty of hours to learn such things.’

‘How do you keep smiling, after everything you have endured?’

‘If I am honest, part of the reason I smile is because I know it will anger the begrudgers more.’ She stated. ‘There is a reason I came up to bother you.’ Thomas looked at her curiously. ‘I am going to town for a short time. There are a few things that we ordered that should be in for Lucille and I need to get her a few more things.’

‘You are going by yourself?’ Thomas asked, shocked.

‘You are welcome, of course. But we also have to consider Lucille, she would be so scared here by herself, I think. It is only a few things for Lucille, unless you require anything?’ She smiled. ‘I will also call on the doctor, that medicine to assist her swallowing food is running low, of all of them, I fear that one running out most.’

Thomas gave her a loving look. ‘Lottie, you are so caring.’

She smiled genuinely at him. ‘I think you wrong, but I know Lucille is everything to you, so I will endeavour to assist her however necessary.’

‘I love my sister, and she is dear to me, but she is not my everything.’ He looked at her nervously. I...I love you, most ardently, Charlotte.’ He confessed. ‘I find every day that passes, I yearn more to be around you.’

Charlotte smiled before kissing him. Thomas immediately reciprocated before becoming more passionate, his hands going immediately to her waist and pulling her to him, her chest to his, his kisses becoming hungrier as his eagerness increased.

‘Lady Sharpe?’ The coachman called up the stairwell loudly, though his voice was a mere echo when it reached them.

Moaning slightly as she pulled away from Thomas, Charlotte looked lovingly at him. ‘I guess I am leaving.’ She sighed. ‘I have fed Lucille, she is cleaned, her hair is done and she will be fine until I return. I left the book I got her in the town beside the bed. I have it marked as to where we are, continue if you wish.’ She leant up and kissed him again. ‘Do you require anything?’

‘No.’

‘Then I will be back not long after lunch. There is food readied, all you need do is reheat it. Or more likely, you will get sidetracked and I will do so on my return’ She smiled, kissing him again before leaving his side and heading to the stairwell.

* Charlotte acquired everything on her list quite quickly, bar what she needed for Lucille’s prescriptions. The carriage headed towards the beautiful house Edward was living in. She looked at it in slight envy, it was, in her opinion, a dream home. Not too big, not to small, a lovely little garden and some vines growing on it. There were no words for how much it pleased her that her previously poor half-brother was able to now have such a home for himself. She hoped the day would come he would have the family he yearned for to reside there with him.

She disembarked her carriage and walked to the door, smiling at the cat leisurely licking its paw before grooming its ear as she did so. Seeing a human, it rushed over with purpose and rubbed into her leg.

‘Well, hello to you too.’ She beamed as it began to purr. ‘Aren’t you beautiful?’

‘He’s a fat useless git is what he is.’ An older woman grumbled. ‘What can I do for you Ms…?’

‘Charlotte Sharpe.’ She smiled.

‘Lady...:Lady Sharpe, please, forgive my lack of propriety.’

‘Please, there is no need to worry yourself. I was just wondering if Dr Thompson is around. I need to speak with him regarding Lady Lucille.’

‘He has just gone to deal with something small, he should be back in a few minutes, please, have a cup of tea while he is waiting.’ The lady offered, opening the front door. ‘And you can stay outside, Rupert.’

It took Charlotte a moment to realise the woman was referencing the cat before she chuckled slightly to herself and walked into the house. ‘I do not wish to be an imposition.’

‘Not at all, your Ladyship, please.’

‘Very well, but only on condition you cease the Ladyship speak, I was not born to such, please, I implore that you simply call me Charlotte.’

‘It is somewhat unconventional, but considering most of those with titles cannot see past them, I respect a woman that rather not be interested in such. How do you like your tea?’

‘With a sugar and a slice of lemon, please, missis….Sorry, I did not get your name.’

‘Mary, Mary Davies. I am the housekeeper for Dr Thompson. He has his tea as you do, actually.’

‘Great minds often think alike.’ She beamed brightly.

‘Indeed.’ Mrs Davies smiled. ‘What is your opinion on shortbread, Charlotte?’

‘Terribly evil stuff, it tests my self-control more than is healthy.’ The older woman laughed. ‘I have none around it. I once ate an entire tray in one afternoon, then to add to it, I drank the most of a day’s milking from a cow with it.’

‘Oh goodness.’ Mrs Davies winced.

‘I was actually fine. I always could eat a lot. It was fine when I was younger, but I fear now I could not do the same.’ She confessed.

‘You are a wonderful change from what I see coming to see the doctor.’

‘Are you working for him long?’

‘I came with the house, so the day he came to these parts.’

‘Is he an easy man to work for?’

‘He is wonderful, polite, courteous, considerate. Not like the last one, oh he was a wicked horrid man, far too fond of the drink, not the least bit fond of the care of his patients.’

‘Oh, that is not right.’ Charlotte shook her head.

‘That, my dear, is the greatest understatement of the century.’ Mrs Davies commented. ‘And how is life on Crimson Peak?’

‘Crimson.’ Charlotte stated. ‘To see red come through the snow is most peculiar, it is somewhat unsettling when I look out in the morning.’

‘I dare say. We all thought that place would crumble. Many thought that Sir Sharpe was not all there when he tried reopening it.’

‘It was very much an uphill struggle for him.’ Charlotte nodded.

‘Then that American wife of his, to run off with that Yankee doctor, terrible altogether.’

‘I...I was not aware of that.’ Charlotte stated.

Mrs Davies looked at her. ‘I should have said nothing.’

‘No, please. I have heard Thomas mention an Edith...That is her, correct?’

‘Aye, that’s her. The trollop, doing that to the man.’

‘I had wondered.’ Charlotte commented. ‘I knew he was previously wed, of course, but I never knew…one does not ask such things. What happened exactly?’

‘Of course not. Well, that doctor came, one night, demanding someone to take him to Allerdale Hall, no one would, the weather was abysmal, so he went off by himself, refusing to accept a night longer, saying he had to see Lady Edith, he had to speak with her, confess something to her. The next thing, Sir Sharpe began returning to town again alone and very lost looking. Those two having rushed off back to America.’

‘That is terrible.’

‘It was.’ The sound of the door opening put an end to their conversation.

A moment later, someone walked through the hallway. ’Mary, my dear, would you be so kind as to...Lady Charlotte.’  

‘Doctor.’ She smiled.

‘Is everything alright, M’Lady?’

‘Yes, I merely need to get a new prescription for poor Lucille, that medicine for her throat is about to run out.’

‘Of course. I have some in my office. As soon as you are finished your tea, you can come with me and get some.’ He sat on the chair beside the women. ‘But first, tea.’ He smiled. ‘Mary, I was speaking with Mrs Wiggins, she expects to see you at the Fete on Tuesday bright and early.’

‘I’ll give her bright and early, she would not know early if the cockerel was next to her.’

Charlotte looked at Edward, who rolled his eyes while Mrs Davies was not looking.

‘And did you see Ms Joanne up the town?’ Edward’s face went bright and he swallowed, causing Charlotte to look at him with a raised brow. ‘Dr Thompson here has a terrible liking for a Ms Joanne Carson, lovely girl, wonderful girl altogether, but he will do nothing about it.’

‘Mary…’ Edward pleaded.

‘Really?’ Charlotte looked at her brother with keen interest. ‘Is there reason the good doctor would do such a thing if he finds this lady to be so alluring?’

‘It is somewhat complicated.’ Edward explained.

‘How so, is she wed?’

‘No.’

‘Uninterested?’

‘She seems to be.’

‘Being courted?’ He gave an odd face. ‘Well, if I may be so bold as to ask what it is that is his profession to make you think you do not even stand a chance in his wake?’

‘He is the son of the undertaker.’

‘Well, I rather the man that saves people to the one that buries them, myself personally.’ Mrs Davies laughed again. ‘Doctor, perhaps were you to make yourself known to this lady, she may reconsider her options. A woman with options would rather know if she had them.’

‘Listen to the Lady Charlotte, Edward, she is a wise young lady.’ Mary urged.

Edward was about to contradict her when there was a knock at the door. Mary went to check who it was while Edward looked at his sister. ‘How long have you been here?’

‘Twenty minutes or so.’

‘Does he know you are in town?’

‘Thomas? Of course.’

‘He let you come alone?’

‘He is looking after Lucille.’

‘I really am not happy with this Charlotte.’

‘What?’

‘You and him, you are too close, you are blinded by affection for him and I think him to be nowhere in a vicinity of good for you.’

‘Edward, do not start that now.’ Charlotte pleaded.

A moment later, the door opened and a man walked in. Edward rose to his feet. ‘Mr Carson, how are you today?’

‘Wonderful doctor. I am just here about those pups I was speaking to you about. The bitch will be ready in two weeks for you.’

‘Excellent.’ Edward smiled. ‘Where are my manners, Lady Sharpe, this is Mr Carson, the finest butcher in these parts. Mr Carson, Lady Sharpe of Allerdale Hall.’

‘M’Lady.’ The man bowed.

‘Sir.’ She smiled. ‘Would it be possible perhaps to book a fine duck and a goose from you for the coming holidays?’

‘I...both, your Ladyship?’ The man looked at her shocked.

‘Please, and perhaps some good beef. I can arrange payment for you now if you would wish?’

‘I...Yes of course. For the meat, I mean and well, if you rather?’

‘Please, I do not like the idea of owing to any, my coachman is outside, he will settle it with you today.’ she beamed. ‘Are you getting a dog, doctor?’

‘Aye, Mr Carson has some purebred Cocker Spaniels.’

‘Oh, beautiful dogs, great intelligence in those eyes.’ Charlotte smiled.

‘Are you a dog lover, Lady Sharpe?’

‘I am an animal lover in general. I met your cat at the door I might add Doctor, he is mighty friendly.’

‘Rupert, friendly? I fear you met the wrong cat.’

Charlotte frowned. ‘No, Mrs Davies stated that to be his name, he was over purring at my leg and everything.’

‘Well, by God.’ The butcher laughed, causing Charlotte to look at him curiously. ‘M’Lady, that cat is as old as the hills and has been in this town with a decade or so and not one person would ever agree with you regarding it being of such a nature.’

‘Odd.’ Charlotte commented. ‘I had better let you get back to your day, Doctor. If I could just have that medicine for Lucille?’

‘Of course, Mr Carson, just give me a moment. This way, Lady Sharpe.’ He walked her into his consultation room. ‘It’s just over here.’

‘This place is wonderful.’

‘It is nice.’

‘I am envious.’ Edward looked at her. ‘I wish I could have married a man that had a home like this.’

‘You didn’t like Foxgrove Park?’

‘Too big, as is Allerdale, this would have suited me.’ She smiled.

‘Charlotte, I...I am really worried about you.’ She looked at her brother. ‘You...you cannot be thinking clearly in the current situation.’

‘Edward…’

‘If he finds out, if you have to do it, can you? If he grabs you and tries to kill you, could you fight him, or will him calling you “Lottie” for the past few months have you killed? I cannot lose you, Charlotte. You are my little sister. I am supposed to protect you.’

‘Then make sure those drugs work, because if she gets out of this, she would, in an instant.’ Charlotte commented, taking the medicine.

‘You are playing a dangerous game. Edward commented. ‘You need to win.’

Tags

@sigridlaufeyson @wolfsmom1 @ilovekingt  @lokilover9 @whovianwookie86-captainxev @texmexdarling @lokiloveheart

[canaryatlaw]

okay, so today was a train wreck. to fully explain, as my day post technically begins right after I write the one from the previous day, I have to start at 3:45 am last night/morning. I think I mentioned that I had a very slight cough after a few days of sore throat and congestion, but I didn’t think anything would come of it. I fell asleep at some point after 12, I don’t remember exactly, but when I woke up briefly at 3:45 am I was in a very different state, and it was immediately apparent to me that I was going to be having an asthmatic bronchitis episode today. Dammit. Not only is it super annoying and painful to be coughing up my lungs all day, but because it’s not a very common condition getting the medicine to treat it can be a big hassle (see the last episode in April 2017 when the urgent care and two doctors offices dismissed me before I finally found one who was actually willing to listen to me and help). Well, not much I could do about it at 3:45 am, so I tried to fall asleep, which I did eventually, but it took a while. I honestly don’t remember when I woke up, I wanna say some time after 10. My cough situation was the same and at this point I’ve had like 6 episodes of this happen, so I know right away what’s going on. Now, the tricky part was going to be getting to a doctor because guess what, it’s Saturday, and getting sick on Saturday is super inconvenient (and as mentioned above, I’ve attempted walk in clinics and they refused to listen to me). I did have a bit of a choice to make, whether I wanted to call my pulmonologist back in NY or if I wanted to call the doctor out here that ended up helping my last episode. They have very different approaches and thoughts on what’s causing it, but they’ve both been able to successfully treat it, so it’s hard to tell. I did reconnect with my NY doctor after the last episode and I’ve seen him several times since then, most recently in December I think, where the doctor out here I haven’t seen in about a year or so. I ended up deciding on the NY doctor mostly because I thought it was more likely that I would be able to reach someone from that office because they are pretty large and well-established I felt like it was more likely they’d have some coverage as opposed to a single practitioner who was probably not in on the weekend. So I call, get the office is closed message, but if it’s an “urgent medical issue” (but not an actual emergency, because they already said if it’s that hang up and call 911) stay on the line and get transferred to their answering service who can get messages to the on call doctor. So I talked to the lady and she took down the info, and said I should get a call back from a doctor shortly. Alright, sounds good, I guess I’ll do some bar prep while I’m waiting, so I did that while awaiting the call, but it didn’t come, and around 3 it was like, 4 hours after I called, so I felt like it was reasonable to call back at this point. So I did, there were some issues with the message getting passed along, they said they’d try again but if I heard nothing don’t wait so long to call back. So when another hour past with no call I called back yet again (I have to be the most annoying phone caller over all the ones I’ve done over the past week) and the lady said she’d pass it on to her supervisor to expedite the request and I was like OH THANK GOD at this point, lol. So I think some time around 4:30 I got the call from the on call doctor. I explained to him that my doctor has been treating me for asthmatic bronchitis since my original episode in March 2013, and there have been about 5 or 6 reoccurrences since then, but if I get the meds I can control it fairly quickly. Fortunately he was able to view all my medical info and what my doctor had previously prescribed, and he believed me, which is always big lol and he called in several prescriptions for me, prednisone along with an inhaler and a recommendation to get some OTC allergy meds. He was like “are you on something regular for your asthma?” and I was just like oh boy this is not a good time to go down that rabbit hole so I was just like “I don’t get normal symptoms, just this” which he seemed to accept as an answer lol. So he called it in, and I pretty much immediately headed over to Target. It was only at this point that I called my parents to let them know what was going on but I had it totally handled and they didn't need to worry about anything, because they flipped the fuck out last time this happened and it was super unhelpful honestly! So I was basically just like “yeah I’m having an episode but I already got the meds called in and I’m going to pick them up now so you don’t have to do anything and have nothing to worry about” lol, so I’d say that was pretty successful. I still felt like shit and didn’t want to walk so I ubered over, and actually stopped at a beauty supply right down the street because I need to cut a wig I got for a cosplay I’m gonna do coming up soon and needed some supplies. The store was super ghetto, which I mostly expected because I know it’s not a super great part of town, but there are no Sally’s near me at all so I’d have to go really out of my way to go there. I had a list of a few things, but I ended up only getting some hair cutting scissors, only to find out they were actually thinning scissors, which will actually be helpful with this style but not for normal cutting purposes, lol. Oh well. So I headed over to Target and went to check in on the prescriptions and to my surprise they had already filled them, so I got those and then did a short grocery run based on a few things I’d written down, more or less my weekly groceries, pretzels and fruit and lemonade, and some snacks. So that didn’t take long, I checked out and ubered back home because again still felt shitty. Got home, unpacked my groceries, then checked out the medicines. There were 3, the prednisone, an inhaler, and some albuterol but it was in the form that you would need a nebulizer to access it and I don’t have one of those, so we’ll see how I’m feeling and if necessary I’ll call on Monday and see if I can get it in inhaler form (or get a nebulizer). So I took the meds, then did some bar prep before trying to prepare to cut the wig. I had a youtube tutorial of the exactly style I was doing so I figured it couldn’t be that bad?? But like every artistic pursuit I’ve ever undertaken I’ve vastly overestimated my ability to do anything that involved even the smallest amount of creative talent. welp. One of the big issues was I didn’t have wig head to put it on which is pretty essential, so I ended up balancing it on an upside down (empty) apple juice bottle, but it kept slipping out of place. I tried to just cut most of the ends off because it was super long and the look I’m doing is pretty short, but of course it still came out super choppy and like, that’s kind of okay because it’s supposed to be kind of choppy but like, in a way that looks good, not like this lol. I was worried about cutting it too short, and there were definitely a few pieces that were, but for the most part they were good. The next step though was the layering and I couldn’t get the wig to stay in place on the bottle, so after many attempts I finally said fuck it because there was no way I could get it down like this. So I guess that project is on hold until I can get something (hopefully a wig head) that I can pin the wig to so I can cut it without it moving. So with that no longer an option I headed back to my con law lecture which was of course 4 hours long, so that took up the rest of my night of course. I object to them scheduling long lectures for the weekend, but it’s not like I can do anything about it. Tomorrow’s schedule is probably going to be an issue, because they have two 4 hour lectures and I have church, and by the time I get home it’s like 3 pm, so that would be a LOT. but we’ll see. I’ll see how I’m doing in the morning. I hope I’m doing better, I kind of pulled in the rationale of the other doctor I saw last year since he treated it by increasing my acid reflux meds, so I grabbed some OTC ones I had and added them to my pill box (I’m not gonna overdose on a fucking antacid, calm down) so maybe that will help because it did the trick pretty quickly last year. I’m supposed to be in the nursery and like, obviously this is an issue with my body, not something that would be contagious but like, I’m still going to feel bad if I’m holding a small child and coughing, I mean I don’t think I’d want a coughing nursery worker holding my kid, so if it’s bad I might have to bail on them, but idk how many people are signed up. So we’ll have to see how that goes. I just remembered how when this coughing happened last year there were numerous strangers that offered my cough drops just based on hearing me cough in public. And like, I had cough drops in my purse, but I just thought it was such a sweet and compassionate gesture, and it really touched me. That will always be a happy memory of Chicago for me, if I end up staying or not- Chicago has always taken care of its own. Alright, it’s 1:30 am, I gotta wake up early for church, so I’m getting off of here now. Goodnight dearies. Hope you had a kickass Saturday (and definitely were not sick). 

[rockhoochie]

No Apologies

(*Edit, previously titled “He Brings Me Sugar”)

Pairing: Dean/OFC

Warnings: Adult Content, Smut, Slow Burn, Somewhat Dubious Consent, Angst, Prescription Drug Abuse, Drinking, Knife play (very brief), Minor OC (sibling) Death, Language, Oral Sex (M/F receiving).

Summary: After losing her sister Anna to a demon, the Winchesters have taken Lexi under their wing. She studies and trains with them, tense friction quickly growing between her and Dean. When Sam and Castiel leave to take care of the demon that killed Anna without her, the levee of tension amidst Lexi and Dean breaks, flowing into something neither of them expected.

A/N: This is an edit of a fic I’ve posted previously. I meant to write a brief smutty one-shot and ended up developing the OFC a bit. Since the word count is 10K+, I decided to chapter it out. There may still be some errors, so please forgive me as I haven’t had this beta’d yet. Thank you for reading and as always, if you’d like to be tagged just send an ask!

**My work is not to be copied, altered, posted on other sites or otherwise used without my express written permission**

 Chapter 3

I had been living with Sam and Dean for about six months no, ever since my life had been turned completely and insanely upside down. Ever since my house had been burned down by a demon. Ever since that same demon had possessed my sister Anna and made her snap her own neck…

It had just been Anna and me. Our parents were gone, killed in a car accident almost two years ago. Anna had resolved to stay home with me after our parents’ funeral. They had left the house to us in their will – rather than try to deal with selling it, we moved in. Although sometimes painful, living in our childhood home again, surrounded by our parents’ possessions and essence was comforting in its own bittersweet way.

Sam had been only halfway through the exorcism when Anna was killed. Dean had been holding me from behind as I simply cried and screamed for my sister. I watched, helpless and confused and terrified as the demon glared me with eyes black as obsidian. It cackled with Anna’s voice, and unceremoniously twisted her head almost the whole way around. The demon left her then, in a thick black vine of smoke that reeked of sulfur, and making the most wretched squealing sound I had ever heard. Dean’s grip loosened on me as her body hit the floor. I had run over to Anna and held her, stroking her hair as my tears fell into her open, dead eyes, not caring that the flames licking the walls were gaining more and more strength. Sam had yelled repeatedly at Dean to get me out; Dean had to coax and scream and pry me away from my little sister. He had dragged me out of the burning house – literally kicking and screaming – as I watched Sam pour a copious amount of rock salt over Anna’s corpse.

Once Dean had gotten us a safe distance away and Sam had run out of the burning house, everything I had left in me vanished as I collapsed on the street. The brothers stayed with me the entire time, through the police and fireman interrogations, through the paramedic examination. The EMT’s kept telling me how lucky I was. I kept silently telling them to go fuck themselves.

Once the fire was out and Anna’s body had been wheeled away, all I could do was tremble, and repeatedly ask Sam and Dean what hell happened, what’s going on, what was that thing. They tried their best to calm me and explain. My head swam along with my tears as they told me that monsters were real, that they were hunters – the kind of hunters that kill the things that everyone else dismissed as fairy tales. They told me were demons real, angels were too, but God had left the building…and vampires and werewolves and even dragons absolutely existed outside of nightmares. At first, I thought they were insane, or that everything that had happened had caused me to go off the deep end.

They took me to their car, a black ’67 Impala, and showed me the contents of the trunk. Guns, knives, bullets, a goddamn machete. Dean reached for and opened a leather-bound journal, and flipping the pages slowly as I peered at them. They were full of hand drawn pictures of awful creatures, of handwritten information about each one – what is was, where it came from, and how to kill it.

Despite the obvious proof, I maintained the position that either I was losing my mind or they were certifiable lunatics.

Deep down I knew it was all true - nothing else could explain it. The weight of accepting that truth crushed anything that remained of my heart that night.

That demon had destroyed the only home and family had left. The only thing I was able to walk away with were the clothes on my back and the necklace I wore – a heart-shaped silver pendant with a single diamond embedded near the top, a single silver angel wing decorating the right side, and the words “Big Sister” engraved in simple print. Anna had one that matched – the only difference was the angel wing on the left side, and the engraved phrase “Little Sister”. We had found them in our mother’s closet, already wrapped in Christmas paper, tucked away amongst other gifts and boxes. Mom had always called us her angels on earth.

One of the EMTs had slipped Anna’s necklace into my hand. I slid the pendant off the chain, and joined it with my own. I silently promised my sister retribution. Whatever it took, wherever I had to go, I was going to destroy the thing that murdered her or die trying.

When Sam asked me if I had someone to call or someone I could stay with, I had shaken my head ‘no’. I had some friends out of state I could’ve called, but I couldn’t even bring myself to consider leaving. I needed answers about what had happened to Anna, and I was hellbent on revenge. I had told them I’d get a hotel for now, but Sam said he didn’t feel comfortable just leaving me alone. That demon was still out there somewhere, and chances were it was going to come after me.

That night they brought me to the bunker.

I sat at the library table in silence, watching Dean unpack his gear while Sam got a room ready for me.

“Hey,” Dean had said, “When’s the last time you ate anything?”

“Not hungry,” I mumbled.

“Not what I asked you.”

“I don’t know, sometime yesterday…”

Dean walked into the kitchen, leaving me to stare at the strange arsenal he had laid out in front of me - a sawed-off shotgun, several knives, bloody clothes and flasks – either full of holy water or whiskey.

He returned with a small plate and a fork, setting a piece of cherry pie in front of me.

“I’d rather have a drink,” I mumbled.

“Pie first.”

I cut a small piece, forcing myself to take one small bite after another until I finished it, trying to at least find some comfort in its sweetness. I licked the last of the thick filling off of my fork, and ran my finger along the sides of my lips to clean off any trace that may have remained.

When I looked up, I found Dean staring at me, his lips parted, his green eyes fixed on me.

“What is it?” I asked. “Is there some on my face?”

He blinked with a slight shake of his head and leaned back in his chair.

“No,” he said. “I just…I’m sorry for everything you went through tonight. I know how it is to lose family, and…”

“Thanks,” I whispered.

“Here,” he said, handing me a silver flask. “You can have that drink now”.

***

I had stayed in my room for three days after I got there, only leaving to use the bathroom. For the most part, Sam and Dean gave me my space. Sam would knock twice a day, come in and bring me food. Sometimes we would make small talk. Sometimes we would just sit there in silence, until he would put a movie on for me. He’d hold me while I cried, listen calmly when I screamed.

Dean had been present, but had kept himself fairly distant. On the morning of my third day at the bunker, I woke to find a pint of Jack Daniels and slice of cherry pie on my night stand. I knew that was from him. As great as Sam was about being attentive to my emotions, Dean knew what I didn’t know I really needed – sugar and booze. I washed down the pie with the whiskey, and spent the rest of the day getting blissfully drunk while watching old western movies.

On the fourth day, I finally came out of my room with a staggering hangover. That was the day I met Castiel, and experienced the glorious magic that was angelic healing. Cas had simply touched two fingers to my forehead, erasing the lingering physical pain I had from the night Anna died, healing the cuts and bruises covering my body. Even my hangover was gone. It was also the day I asked Sam and Dean to teach me everything they knew.

Sam read through lore and research with me, quizzing me on what the most common creatures were and how to kill them. He showed me the best places to look for the rare, odd things, and told me to who to call if I got stuck on something. I studied symbols, warding, summoning spells and credit card fraud. Sam was patient and warmhearted while he taught me, leading me to correct my own wrong answers and guiding me step-by-step as I practiced sketching Devil’s Traps. Sam quickly became like a big brother to me – that was the reason I picked him to take me to get the anti-possession tattoo on the back of my neck.

Dean led me in the more hands-on aspects of hunting. He taught me how to handle the guns, how to clean them, how to put them back together. He showed me the different bullets, the rock salt shells and the witch killers. He gave me a hunting knife, a lock-pick kit, and finally my own Glock.

We also spent time sparring, practicing hand to hand fighting. He never held back with me, saying that if I was going to have his or his little brother’s six, I’d better damn well know how to fight.

Dean was tough on me, critical, demanding perfection from everything he was trying to teach me. It only took about two weeks before started grating on each other. The more comfortable I got around him, the more he learned that not only could I take it, but I could dish it right back to him. That seemed to piss him off, and I found myself secretly enjoying it.

One particular day in the shooting range we really had it out. I was holding my Glock, trying to aim at the target and he would just not shut up. My stance was wrong, I wasn’t holding the gun the right way, what did I think this was, the goddamn movies? I finally cracked that day, screaming at him to get the fuck out of my face and back the hell off. I had stormed off, hiding myself in an archive room for the next several hours. When I finally returned to my room, there was a pint of Jack Daniels and a slice of pie sitting on my nightstand. By that time, I had learned how high pie was on Dean’s list of priorities. So, with a smile, I took the gesture as an apology and forgave him.

After a couple of months, I went out on some simple hunts with them – a spirit here, a poltergeist there. Sam was proud of me. Dean was impressed. I wanted to do more. Despite my insistence and protestations, they left me behind on the more difficult hunts - vampire nests, werewolf packs, things that hunted in twos, or anything demon-related.

Whenever they left me behind, I resigned myself to trying to track down the demon that killed Anna. I looked for patterns, strange sightings, any hint that the thing was still around. Sam and Dean tortured any demon they came across to get information before destroying or exoring them. Not one of them knew anything, or if they did, they weren’t talking. Dean had even summoned Crowley to interrogate him. After Crowley spent an eternity talking in circles and flirting with me, he insisted he knew nothing about my sister, or which one of his minions may have killed her. He did however, offer to make finding it out for me his top priority in exchange for my soul. Dean had cursed at him for that, charging at him with Ruby’s knife. Crowley vanished with a snap of his fingers before Dean could even get close to him.

I kept hunting, kept researching, kept hoping. I made it extremely clear to Sam and Dean that I was going to be the one to destroy that demon once it dared to show up again. They never protested, but never seemed too thrilled with the idea either.

It was comforting knowing I had people who had my back – hell, it was comforting to know that an actual angel had my back. Any time they left and hunted without me it filled me with dread. The Winchesters were the best at what they did, but if anything ever happened to them I’d be lost. I couldn’t imagine life without Sam, the brother I never had. I couldn’t even imagine life without Dean…the Dean I never had.

[hero-israel]

Historian Thomas Cahill, author of The Gifts of the Jews (Knopf, 1999) claimed that the Jews invented the very concept of history. They were the first, he said, to perceive time not as an endless circle of life, death and rebirth, but as the flight of an arrow, on a linear path to somewhere from somewhere.

However, what if time is not one arrow, but a volley of arrows? What if there are other timelines, other histories, other Jews? Would they still have a covenant with the one God? What would have become of their triumphs? Their defeats? Their suffering and their successes?

Award-winning author/editors Andrea D. Lobel and Mark Shainblum propose to answer this question in Other Covenants, the first-ever anthology of Jewish alternate history, to be published by ChiZine Publications in Fall 2019!

SUBMISSION GUIDELINES

Submission window: August 28, 2017 at 12:01 AM Eastern Time to Sunday, Feb. 4, 2018, at 11:59 PM Eastern Time.

Open to submissions by authors of all backgrounds, from anywhere in the world.

Please do not submit by email. We will accept digital submissions only via the Moksha submissions system at https://chizinepub.moksha.io/publication/other-covenants.

Stories must be in the alternate history genre and must be clearly relevant to the theme of the anthology.

Length: 500–15,000 words. There are relatively few spots for stories at the high end, so please query first if you think your story will go long.

Preference will be given to stories previously unpublished in English, however, we will consider previously published stories on a case-by-case basis.

NEW: Also open to poetry submissions. Original poems on theme. No more than 2 pages (8.5 x 11) in length. (Maximum word count set arbitrarily to 2,000 words as system won’t allow max lines or pages.) No need to double-space.

Submissions may be made in English or French. Author is responsible for translations into English after acceptance.

English-language translations of stories from other languages (published or unpublished) are welcome, but we can only accept submissions in English or French.

Multiple submissions welcome; up to two stories maximum per author, sent under separate cover.

We prefer no simultaneous submissions, please (we promise to respond promptly).

Initial responses (rejections, holds, and rewrite requests) within 30 days of submission; final responses no later than 30 days after the deadline.

Payment is 8 cents per word in Canadian funds. (SFWA qualifying after exchange to US funds).

File formats accepted: .docx, .doc, or .rtf.

Formatting: indented paragraphs; italics in italics (not underlined); Canadian spelling; use # (or other unambiguous symbol) to indicate scene breaks; no headers, footers, or pagination; no outlandish formatting, please; full contact info (name, street address, email, phone number) and word count on the first page. That said, don’t fret too much about formatting; good fiction is what’s most important. (Correct spelling also counts.)

Please include a cover letter with a brief author bio, title of story, and full contact info, including street address.

Please do not summarize or describe the story in the cover letter.

To be published by ChiZine Publications in Fall 2019.

Rights: First World Rights, including audio and translation rights. (NOTE: CZP has a foreign rights agent who will be presenting the anthology in foreign markets.)

NOTE ON PSEUDONYMS: we will only publish one story per author, even if you write under several names; please use your real name on all correspondence and indicate your pseudonym in the cover letter and on the byline of the story itself.

NOTE ON SUBJECT MATTER: Any book dealing with the Jewish people, Jewish history and Israel will, by definition, be controversial. We welcome controversy and politics, but don’t forget that this is a fiction anthology. Telling good stories takes first, second and third place. Submissions that grind axes loud enough to drown out the story are unlikely to be accepted.

Questions or queries: othercovenants@gmail.com. Please don’t submit stories via email, as noted above.

A WORD ABOUT THE ALTERNATE HISTORY GENRE

Other Covenants is open to authors of every background, and for those of you who may not be familiar with alternate history, here’s a quick thumbnail sketch of the genre.

A popular sub-genre of speculative fiction, alternative history weaves fictional narratives into the “what-if”s of the past, and explores the infinite number of historical roads not taken in the past, present or future.

The Collins English Dictionary defines alternative history as “a genre of fiction in which the author speculates on how the course of history might have been altered if a particular historical event had had a different outcome.” According to Steven H. Silver, an American science fiction editor, alternate history requires three things:

1. A point of divergence from the history of our world prior to the time at which the author is writing 2. A change that would alter history as it is known 3. An examination of the ramifications of that change

Although alternate history is related to counterfactual history, it is distinct from it. The latter term is used by historians to refer to the academic, non-literary, question “what could have happened if . . .”.

Now please don’t take the above as prescriptive or proscriptive. We understand that boundaries are vague, definitions are fuzzy, and the distinction between an alternate history and a counterfactual may be entirely in the eye of the beholder. But whatever voice you write in, please keep in mind that first and foremost we are looking for stories about characters.

Also, though alternate history originated as a sub-genre of science fiction and fantasy and may incorporate tropes like the many-worlds theory, parallel universes, time travel, mysticism and magic, these are not requirements. Use them if you want to, don’t use them if you don’t. The only speculative element required is the break from history as we know it, and the effect of that break on the Jewish people.

THE KIND OF THEMES WE MIGHT EXPLORE:

Please don’t take these as prescriptive or proscriptive either, the whole canvas of Jewish history is open to you—Biblical, historical and mythological:

What if • the Holocaust had never happened? What if • Joseph’s brothers had not sold him into slavery in Egypt? What if • The State of Israel had been established in Uganda? Or Germany? What if • Jesus’ followers had not broken with Judaism? What if • The Jews had proselytized their faith door-to-door for a thousand years? What if • The Romans had not destroyed Jerusalem and the Second Temple? What if • Judaism became the dominant Western religion, but was riven by conflicts between the Temple priesthood and reformist rabbis who put the Torah and prayer before Temple ritual and sacrifice? What if • The Spanish Inquisition had never occurred? What if • Napoleon had not smashed down Europe’s ghetto walls? What if • The Protocols of the Elders of Zion were reality . . . in some other universe?

ABOUT THE EDITORS

Andrea D. Lobel has been a writer and editor for over a decade, winning two awards for her work.

An ordained rabbi and university lecturer, she holds an M.A. in Religious Studies (McGill University), and a Ph.D. in Religion (Concordia University), specializing in the history of religion and science, astronomy and religion, celestial mythologies, calendars, magic, and religious authority in Judaism, as well as in the Hebrew Bible and its ancient Near Eastern context.

Her book, Under a Censored Sky: Astronomy and Rabbinic Authority in the Talmud Bavli and Related Literature, is forthcoming from Brill Publishers in 2018–19.

Mark Shainblum was born and raised in Montreal, where he and illustrator Gabriel Morrissette co-created the acclaimed comics series Northguard and Angloman with Gabriel Morrissette. Northguard has recently been revived by Chapterhouse Comics in Toronto.

In addition to writing comics, Mark has published science fiction in various magazine and anthology markets including On Spec and Island Dreams: Montreal Writers of the Fantastic. As an editor, he co-edited Arrowdreams: An Anthology of Alternate Canadas with John Dupuis in 1998 and Superhero Universe: Tesseracts Nineteen in 2016 with Claude Lalumière.

Mark shared an Aurora Award with John Dupuis in 1999 for Arrowdreams, and in 2016 he was inducted into the Joe Shuster Awards Canadian Comic Book Creator Hall of Fame.

Mark and Andrea live in Ottawa with their daughter.

[cutsliceddiced]

New top story from Time: How Photographer Gordon Parks Examined the Racism Embedded in the Criminal Justice System

In the fight for Black liberation, African-American photographer, filmmaker, author and composer Gordon Parks (1912-2006) transformed storytelling into activism. “Finally, after a long search to find weapons to fight off the oppression of my adolescence, I found two powerful ones, the camera and the pen,” Parks wrote in 1997’s Half Past Autumn: A Retrospective. He avowed, “Racism is still around, but I am not about to let it destroy me.”

This was a lesson in survival gleaned in his youth. Born on Fort Scott, Kans., Parks weathered a childhood marked by abject poverty during one of the most violent eras of homegrown terrorism: Between 1877 and 1950, more than 4,440 lynchings occurred in the United States. At 11, Parks nearly met the same fate when three white boys threw him into the Marmaton River knowing he could not swim.

Parks rarely shared his harrowing history with those closest to him; instead he channeled his experiences into his art—including work that examined the role of the criminal-justice system in Black American life.

© Courtesy The Gordon Parks Foundation/SteidlInterior of Gordon Parks: The Atmosphere of Crime showing the original layouts as it appeared in LIFE magazine.

© Courtesy The Gordon Parks Foundation/SteidlInterior view of Gordon Parks: The Atmosphere of Crime.

“Uncle Gordon wrote about his childhood in The Learning Tree, which became the movie that made him the first Black director in Hollywood,” says Robin Hickman-Winfield, Parks’ great-niece and founder of the Gordon Parks Legacy Educational Experience at Gordon Parks High School in St. Paul, Minn. “While he wasn’t on the picket lines, he shared it in his work so we would know our story. Black lives mattered to him.”

After his mother died, Parks, then 14, moved to St. Paul to live with his sister—but ended up on the streets where he learned to fend for himself. At 25, Parks discovered photography, getting his start at local Black-owned newspapers and the Farm Security Administration before becoming the first Black photographer to shoot for Vogue. In 1948, Parks pitched a story on Leonard “Red” Jackson, the teen leader of a Harlem gang, to LIFE magazine, creating a tender portrait of race, poverty and crime that won him a staff job.

By the 1950s, as white America embraced rock ‘n’ roll and the “rebel without a cause” attitude of disaffected youth, the mainstream media seized upon many white readers’ fears of a coming wave of crime. LIFE magazine was on the case, announcing a major six-part series on crime in the U.S., which would explore the police, criminals, courts, punishments, prisons and parole, along with a psychological profile of crime itself.

© Courtesy The Gordon Parks FoundationUntitled, Chicago, Illinois, 1957

© Courtesy The Gordon Parks FoundationUntitled, New York, New York, 1957

For the first installment, in the Sept. 9, 1957 issue of LIFE, Gordon Parks and reporter Henry Suydam collaborated on “The Atmosphere of Crime,” an eight-page photo essay documenting the police and prison systems in New York City, Chicago, San Francisco and Los Angeles. The new book, Gordon Parks: The Atmosphere of Crime, 1957 (Gordon Parks Foundation/Steidl), provides an in-depth study of this historic body of work.

Robert Wallace, a senior staff writer who had previously written about Parks’ 1956 story on segregation in the South, wrote the text that accompanied the “Atmosphere of Crime” story, setting an foreboding tone in the opening sentences: “The nation in the fall of 1957 appears to be threatened by a catastrophic wave of crime. From almost every major city in the past year have come frightening reports showing not merely an increase in the number of crimes but a dreadful shift, it seems, in their nature.”

© Courtesy The Gordon Parks FoundationRaiding Detectives, Chicago, Illinois, 1957

© Courtesy The Gordon Parks FoundationUntitled, Chicago, Illinois, 1957

© Courtesy The Gordon Parks FoundationCrime Suspect with Gun, Chicago, Illinois, 1957

© Courtesy The Gordon Parks FoundationDrug search, Chicago, Illinois, 1957

Adopting the framework of politicians, law-enforcement officials and criminologists, Wallace’s perspective was bleak, steeped in a vocabulary of menace and threat, citing reports that claimed “Negroes” and “juvenile delinquents” were responsible for the majority of crimes committed—but never investigating the system itself. While Wallace argued that the higher percentage of Black crime was a result of racism, he failed to explore the role of criminal justice in these systems of power.

Parks’ photographs told a different story, one that examined the underlying suffering, despair and fear of marginalized groups further exacerbated by police and prisons.

Parks trained his lens on law enforcement, documenting officers on patrol, interrogating suspects, kicking down doors, knocking people down and searching for needle marks on addicts’ arms. Though the suspects Parks photographed came from different racial backgrounds, one constant remains: the law enforcement agents were predominantly white.

© Courtesy The Gordon Parks FoundationUntitled, San Quentin, California, 1957

© Courtesy The Gordon Parks FoundationFingerprinting Addicts for Forging Prescriptions, Chicago, Illinois, 1957

  Forgoing the dazzling aesthetics of film noir, which he had often turned to for other stories, Parks shot this series in color, in somber muted tones that prefigure the gritty mood of 1970s films like his blockbuster Shaft. In place of sharp crisp edges and sharply defined black and white, everything in Parks’ photos is met with blur and haze, suggesting an air of ambiguity and doubt. In 1990’s Voices in the Mirror: An Autobiography, Parks wrote, “With the publication of that essay came invitations to speak before groups concerned with the problems of crime and ways to fight them. Against a mature judgment I accepted a few. But I had no reassuring answers; I too was begging the questions, eating the same despair.”

Parks found other ways to reckon with the issues he confronted in his work. In the 1970s, he accompanied his nephew, Robert “Bobby” Hickman, to Minnesota’s Stillwater Correctional Facility to visit inmates. “Uncle Gordon served as a vision of possibilities and hope. He wanted those brothers to see him as a vision of possibility, telling them, ‘You brothers can write, write about your experience,’” says Parks’ great-niece Hickman-Winfield, who launched the CHOICE of Weapons Fellowship at the Redwing Juvenile State Correctional Facility in 2004. “I remember seeing Uncle Gordon standing in his kitchen, crying as he read a letter from a young Black man who was not wasting his time while doing time,” she says of one their final visits before his death in 2006.

Hickman-Winfield fights back tears as she speaks, just hours after Gordon Parks High School hosted its graduation ceremony in the parking lot due to COVID-19 on June 5. Although they weren’t able to have their prom, students were able to celebrate earlier this year at the opening of Choice of Weapons: Honor and Dignity, The Visions of Gordon Parks, curated by Hickman-Winfield at the Minneapolis Museum of American Art. “We’re in a Black moment right now,” she says. “I can hear Uncle Gordon say ‘Let’s do it, baby!’”

© Courtesy The Gordon Parks FoundationUntitled, Illinois, 1957

    via https://cutslicedanddiced.wordpress.com/2018/01/24/how-to-prevent-food-from-going-to-waste

[renegadepharmacist]

By ANDREW JOSEPH and SHRADDHA CHAKRADHAR JANUARY 9, 2020 PIKEVILLE, Ky. — A year and a half after the opioid painkiller OxyContin went on the market, a Purdue Pharma sales representative documented a physician’s concern about the burgeoning drug that would come up again and again.“Dr worried re addiction w/ Oxy,” the sales rep wrote in a memo summarizing a visit with a Kentucky physician on Aug. 12, 1997.The representative had a ready message to deflect such concerns: “Oxy is long-acting, has fewer peaks than other oxycodone combos, less addictive value.”More than two dozen other notes from sales agents show they delivered a similar message to doctors as OxyContin was becoming a best-seller in the late 1990s and early 2000s. “Pushed hard on no buzz, less abuse,” one from the following day said. “Seemed to hear the Oxy mesage [sic] better on no buzz potential,” another note from the following week read.Together, the selection of memos make clear that when some prescribers raised fears of OxyContin misuse, including in the early days of its availability as the drug was gaining a foothold in the market, the sales force consistently batted those concerns away with misleading assertions that the drug would cause less euphoria and was less prone to misuse than competing opioids.

Excerpts of a handful of sales memos were read during a deposition of Dr. Richard Sackler, a onetime Purdue president and member of the family that built and controls the company, that was reported on last year by ProPublica and STAT. But the memos themselves were recently obtained by STAT following a yearslong legal battle.The sales reps’ claims about OxyContin’s safety profile were in many cases false — assertions that in part led to the company pleading guilty in 2007 in federal court to understating the risk of addiction to OxyContin, a “controlled-release” drug designed to last longer than immediate-release opioids. The drug’s label at its launch, as approved by the Food and Drug Administration, said that “delayed absorption, as provided by OxyContin tablets, is believed to reduce the abuse liability of a drug.” But Purdue at the time did not have any studies “demonstrating that OxyContin was less addictive, less subject to abuse and diversion, or less likely to cause tolerance and withdrawal than other pain medications,” according to a statement of facts from the 2007 plea.The sales team’s messaging was crucial to ensuring a smooth takeoff for OxyContin in its first years on the market. Another newly obtained document, Purdue’s 83-page launch plan for OxyContin, describes the 351-person sales force as “our most valuable resource.” Dated Sept. 27, 1995, it details how Purdue had prepared a full court press to blast OxyContin onto the market. The company had sweeping plans to reach hospitals, doctors, nurses, patients, distributors, pharmacy benefit managers, and pharmacists: Upon OxyContin’s approval, Purdue intended to send a fax “to every retail pharmacy in the United States” that would “list the reasons why pharmacies will profit by stocking this new product.”The documents were gathered as part of a lawsuit by the state of Kentucky against Purdue over its marketing of OxyContin. They were sealed as part of a 2015 settlement between the state and the company, but STAT filed a motion to make them public in March 2016 — initiating a case that ultimately went to the Kentucky Supreme Court and resulted in the release of the records late last year. STAT previously reported on the contents of many of the unsealed files, but recently discovered these additional records.The 26 sales call notes contained in the Kentucky documents, stretching from 1997 to 2001, provide in-their-own-words examples of Purdue’s selling of OxyContin that it admitted in 2007 was done “with the intent to defraud or mislead.” The 2007 court document states that sales representatives were trained to “tell health providers that OxyContin potentially creates less chance for addiction than immediate-release opioids” and that “patients who took OxyContin would not develop tolerance to the drug,” which, sales representatives told prescribers, “had less abuse potential [and] was less likely to be diverted than immediate-release opioids.”

Purdue paid $600 million in fines and penalties as part of the 2007 plea agreement. Three executives also pleaded guilty to related charges.In a statement this week, Purdue said: “The call notes in question were written over 18 years ago and represent an exceedingly small sample compared to the millions of notes written during this period that aligned with FDA-approved materials. Even so, we deeply regret any misstatements that were made and we accepted responsibility for these actions as part of the Agreed Statement of Facts in our 2007 settlement.”Other documents included in the Kentucky cache and previously reported on by STAT include the 2015 deposition of Sackler and emails that showed Sackler proposed Purdue executives aggressively push back against concerns about the misuse potential of OxyContin.During the deposition, when Sackler was asked about the memos from the company’s sales representatives and their messages about OxyContin’s safety profile, he said: “They are fragments of fragments of fragments of a conversation that are designed to remind the rep of a conversation that he or she had two, three, four, five, six weeks prior. So they mean a lot, but without asking the person who wrote them what it meant, we don’t, sitting here, have any idea what it means.”At varying points during the deposition, Sackler defended the comments made by sales representatives to minimize the euphoric qualities of OxyContin, but he also acknowledged that excerpts read to him during the questioning were “inappropriate.”Purdue is now working to settle more than 2,000 lawsuits from states, local governments, and tribes accusing it and other companies in the opioid supply chain of overwhelming communities with opioids while misleading the public about the risks and benefits of the drugs. Members of the Sackler family are also named as defendants in some of those lawsuits, most of which have been bundled into a federal multidistrict litigation.The family and the company have broadly denied the allegations. Purdue has filed for bankruptcy protection as it works to reach a resolution of the lawsuits. OxyContin was meant to provide longer pain relief than other opioid medications by packing into each pill more oxycodone — a type of opioid — that would be released over 12 hours. But the drugs were able to be crushed and snorted or dissolved in liquid and injected. According to experts, Purdue’s alleged aggressive promotion of high-dose opioids in large numbers contributed to the opioid crisis by funneling more pills into communities that could be misused or diverted. Stronger doses are also associated with an increased risk of addiction and overdose.

From 1999 to 2017, more than 200,000 people in the United States died from overdoses tied to all prescription opioids, according to federal data.In the call notes, when physicians cited specific cases of misuse, the sales representatives stressed the purported safety of OxyContin and sometimes took a blame-the-user approach.In January 2000, one doctor during a visit from a sales rep “discussed that some of her pts may be crushing tablet to inject or snort the oxycodone.” The representative in turn told the doctor that “Oxy is less likely to be abused than Percocet or Vicodin,” which are other pain medications.And when a different doctor in 1997 raised concerns about the potential misuse of pain medications, another sales rep “talked about Oxy less abusive potential. Helps weed out the addicts.” As for patients who were misusing OxyContin, one sales rep offered the idea of “removing abusive patients” from that prescriber’s practice.According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, “anyone who takes prescription opioids can become addicted to them.” Studies have found that from about 8% to up to 25% of pain patients on opioids become addicted.Meanwhile, Purdue rewarded top sales representatives with trips to Bermuda and London, according to the deposition of Sackler.Some Kentucky doctors embraced OxyContin, according to the memos. One, Dr. Harry Kennedy, “enthusiasticly [sic] told me that he would use Oxy for all pain patients,” a sales representative wrote in a 1997 memo, after noting he told Kennedy that OxyContin came with “less euphoria, less abuse, and fewer side effects.” A Walmart pharmacist, according to another sales rep’s memo, said Kennedy “is writing Oxy with both hands” and then “rolled her eyes.”Messages left at Kennedy’s office were not returned.The OxyContin launch plan shows how Purdue, while initially intending the drug as a treatment for cancer pain, was already looking beyond that to the much larger “chronic non-malignant pain market.” That meant reaching the clinicians most inclined to prescribe the drug. As the launch plan says, “oncology/hematology represents the primary target for promoting OxyContin. The primary care physicians, however, must also be considered a primary target, and physician-prescribing information by decile must be used to target the highest potential physicians.”Purdue had ambitious goals for its new drug. It saw the audience for its promotional efforts as “all 1,200 cancer centers, all 1,200 major teaching institutions, all 2,500 community hospitals” with at least 100 beds.The plan states that “one of the major strategies in launching OxyContin will be to replace all prescriptions for MS Contin,” an earlier Purdue product that was set to face generic competition. “Overall, the $462 million Class II opioid market presents an excellent opportunity for the introduction of OxyContin tablets,” the plan says.

According to the statement of facts from the 2007 plea agreement, Purdue made about $2.8 billion in revenue from OxyContin from January 1996 to the middle of 2001. Bankruptcy filings from last year show members of the Sackler family have made $12 to $13 billion from Purdue.The large majority of launch plans for new medicines would look broadly similar to the OxyContin report, with market analyses and detailed promotional plans, said Erik Gordon of University of Michigan’s Ross School of Business, who studies the pharmaceutical industry. But in hindsight, a few points stood out to Gordon as ground for critics to use against the company. One of the objectives listed, for example, is “to increase the number of prescriptions for strong opioids by 10%.”“If it was a new statin, it would say to increase the number of prescriptions for this class of statins by X%,” Gordon said. “But in light of the opioid crisis, I think this language could be interpreted in a way that hurts them looking backward.”Other details from the OxyContin launch plan include: Purdue recognized the influence nurses had, despite not being able to prescribe drugs themselves. “They are the people who rate the patients’ pain and make a recommendation on the type of opioid and dosage for pain control,” the plan says.The company intended to reach patients directly. It proposed “a consumer awareness program … to educate consumers about the tragedy of needless suffering that occurs in millions of cancer patients every year.” It raised the idea of partnering with a group like the American Cancer Society for such a campaign. A spokeswoman for the society said it had no record of such a partnership ever happening.Purdue planned to target — and incentivize — consultant pharmacists, who would then teach providers at long-term care facilities about pain treatment. “Pricing to the consultant pharmacist should be offered at a discount off the wholesale acquisition price. This will allow them to increase their profit margin, commonly referred to as the spread, thereby encouraging them to recommend OxyContin as the drug of choice in the long-term care market.”

Andrew Joseph reported from Boston, and Shraddha Chakradhar from Pikeville.  

[lastsonlost]

AN SJW ALMOST CAME CLOSE TO SELF AWARENESS.

There is a particularly aggressive strand of social justice activism weaving in and out of my Seattle community that has troubled me, silenced my loved ones, and turned away potential allies. I believe in justice. I believe in liberation. I believe it is our duty to obliterate white supremacy, anti-blackness, cisheteropatriarchy, ableism, capitalism, and imperialism. And I also believe there should be openness around the tactics we use and ways our commitments are manifested over time. Beliefs and actions are too often conflated with each other, yet questioning the latter should not renege the former. As a Cultural Studies scholar, I am interested in the ways that culture does the work of power. What then, is the culture of activism, and in what ways are activists restrained by it? To be clear, I’m only one person who is trying to figure things out, and I’m open to revisions and learning. But as someone who has spent the last decade recovering from a forced conversion to evangelical Christianity, I’m seeing a disturbing parallel between religion and activism in the presence of dogma:

1. Seeking purity

There is an underlying current of fear in my activist communities, and it is separate from the daily fear of police brutality, eviction, discrimination, and street harassment. It is the fear of appearing impure. Social death follows when being labeled a “bad” activist or simply “problematic” enough times. I’ve had countless hushed conversations with friends about this anxiety, and how it has led us to refrain from participation in activist events, conversations, and spaces because we feel inadequately radical. I actually don’t prefer to call myself an activist, because I don’t fit the traditional mold of the public figure marching in the streets and interrupting business as usual. When I was a Christian, all I could think about was being good, showing goodness, and proving to my parents and my spiritual leaders that I was on the right path to God. All the while, I believed I would never be good enough, so I had to strain for the rest of my life towards an impossible destination of perfection.

I feel compelled to do the same things as an activist a decade later. I self-police what I say in activist spaces. I stopped commenting on social media with questions or pushback on leftist opinions for fear of being called out. I am always ready to apologize for anything I do that a community member deems wrong, oppressive, or inappropriate- no questions asked. The amount of energy I spend demonstrating purity in order to stay in the good graces of fast-moving activist community is enormous. Activists are some of the judgiest people I’ve ever met, myself included. There’s so much wrongdoing in the world that we work to expose. And yet, grace and forgiveness are hard to come by in these circles. At times, I have found myself performing activism more than doing activism. I’m exhausted, and I’m not even doing the real work I am committed to do. It is a terrible thing to be afraid of my own community members, and know they’re probably just as afraid of me. Ultimately, the quest for political purity is a treacherous distraction for well-intentioned activists.

2. Reproducing colonialist logics

Postcolonialist black Caribbean philosopher Frantz Fanon in his 1961 book Wretched of the Earth writes about the volatile relationship between the colonizer and the colonized, and the conditions of decolonization. In it, he sharply warns the colonized against reproducing and maintaining the oppressive systems of colonization by replacing those at top by those previously at the bottom after a successful revolution.

As a QTPOC (queer, trans person of color), I have experienced discrimination and rejection due to who I am. I have sought out QTPOC-only spaces to heal, find others like me, and celebrate our differences. Those spaces and relationships have saved me from despair time and time again. And yet, I reject QTPOC supremacy, the idea that QTPOCs or any other marginalized groups deserve to dominate society. The experiences of oppression do not grant supremacy, in the same way that being a powerful colonizer does not. Justice will never look like supremacy. I wish for a new societal order that does not revolve around relations of power and domination.

3. Preaching/Punishments

Telling people what to do and how to live out their lives is endemic to dogmatic religion and activism. It’s not that my comrades are the bosses of me, but that dogmatic activism creates an environment that encourages people to tell other people what to do. This is especially prominent on Facebook. Scrolling through my news feed sometimes feels Iike sliding into a pew to be blasted by a fragmented, frenzied sermon. I know that much of the media posted there means to discipline me to be a better activist and community member. But when dictates aren’t followed, a common procedure of punishment ensues. Punishments for saying/doing/believing the wrong thing include shaming, scolding, calling out, isolating, or eviscerating someone’s social standing. Discipline and punishment has been used for all of history to control and destroy people. Why is it being used in movements meant to liberate all of us? We all have made serious mistakes and hurt other people, intentionally or not. We get a chance to learn from them when those around us respond with kindness and patience. Where is our humility when examining the mistakes of others? Why do we position ourselves as morally superior to the un-woke? Who of us came into the world fully awake?

4. Sacred texts

There are also some online publications of dogmatic activism that could be considered sacred texts. For example, the intersectional site Everyday Feminismreceives millions of views a month. It features more than 40 talented writers who pen essays on a wide range of anti-oppression topics, zeroing in on ones that haven’t yet broached larger activist conversations online. When Everyday Feminism articles are shared among my friends, I feel both grateful that the conversation is sparking and also very belittled. Nearly all of their articles follow a standard structure: an instructive title, list of problematic or suggested behaviors, and a final statement of hard opinion. The titles, the educational tone, and the prescriptive checklists contribute to creating the idea that there is only one way to think about and do activism. And it’s a swiftly moving target that is always just out of reach. In trying to liberate readers from the legitimately oppressive structures, I worry that sites like Everyday Feminism are replacing them with equally restrictive orthodoxy on the other end of the political spectrum.

Have I extricated myself from a church to find myself confined in another?

At this year’s Allied Media Conference, BLM co-founder Alicia Garza gave an explosive speech to a theatre full of brilliant and passionate organizers. She urged us to set aside our distrust and critique of newer activists and accept that they will hurt and disappoint us. Don’t shut them out because their politics are outdated or they don’t wield the same language. If we are interested in building the mass movements needed to destroy mass oppression, our movements must include people not like us, people with whom we will never fully agree, and people with whom we have conflict. That’s a much higher calling than railing at people from a distance and labeling them as wrong. Ultimately, according to Garza, building a movement is about restoring humanity to all of us, even to those of us who have been inhumane. Movements are where people are called to be transformed in service of liberation of themselves and others.

I want to spend less time antagonizing and more time crafting alternative futures where we don’t have to fight each other for resources and care. For an introvert like me, that may look like shifting my activism towards small scale projects and recognizing personal relationships as locations of mutual transformation. It might mean carefully choosing whether I want to be part of public disruptions or protests, and giving myself full permission to refrain at times. It may mean drawing attention to the ways in which other people outside of movements have been living out activism, even if no one has ever called it that. It might mean checking in with myself about how I have let my heart grow hard. It may mean admitting that speaking my truth isn’t justification for being mean. It might mean directly dealing with my religious hangups so that I can come to a place where the resonant aspects of theology or spirituality become part of my toolkit. It means cultivating long-term relationships with those outside my (not that) safe and exclusive community, understanding I will learn so much from them. It means ceasing to “other” people and leave them behind. It means honoring their humanity, in spite of their hurtful political beliefs and violent actions. It means seeing them as individuals, not ideologies or systems. It means acknowledging their agency to act justly. It means inviting them to be with us in love, and pushing through repeated rejection. Otherwise, I’m not sure how I can sustain this work for the rest of my life

[bestmedicalsurgery5-blog]

Why the Biggest "Myths" About Best Medical Surgery May Actually Be Right

Cosmetic treatment has gotten enough appeal with an increasing number of individuals from all throughout the globe indulging in it for invigorating external appearance, escalating levels of confidence, and getting long-term relief from numerous health conditions. Now before going under knife, top-notch cosmetic surgeons generally ask their clients to totally stop consuming Vitamin E supplements, consuming veggies and fruits , drinking alcohol, and smoking cigarettes. Are you wondering why? If yes, have a look at the following write-up instantly.

Why not take in Vitamin E supplements?

According to effectively skilled and highly skilled physician bring out cosmetic surgery facelift with maximum accuracy for an budget friendly price, practically all modern-day people treasure a misconception that Vitamin E can allow skin to recover rapidly from trauma caused by a specific procedure. But in reality, the stated supplements trigger tremendous bruising and bleeding.

Why not eat vegetables and fruits ?

Although fruits and vegetables are generally thought about healthy and often integrated when a balanced diet chart is produced, they should be prevented if a individual is planning to go through a cosmetic treatment. Due to the fact that veggies and fruits take a extended duration to digest and it is essential to have little food in system on the big day, this is. Entire grains having high fiber material is also prohibited for the exact same factor. Concentrate on consuming fermented dairy items, lean protein, oysters, etc

. Why not consume alcohol?

Alcohol thins blood excessively. During a surgery, skin and muscular tissues are cut, undoubtedly resulting in bleeding, but if a person's blood is already thin, she or he may lose a larger amount.

Alcohol can dry out skin preventing a professional from dealing with it in a seamless manner. Dry body parts would be agonizing to stitch and develop more visible scars. The healing procedure is likewise jeopardized. Thus, avoiding consuming even periodically a minimum of two weeks prior is suggested.

Why not smoke cigarettes?

The adverse impacts of cigarette smoking is recorded exceptionally however when it concerns surgeries, this specific bad routine can slow down healing procedure by restricting or obstructing blood circulation. Throughout a cosmetic treatment, the professional cuts or relocations tissues lying underneath skin for improving visual appeal or function however do so with enormous caution so that healing occurs. In case of a smoker, the tissues would not get sufficient blood, is damaged, and she or he might struggle with necrosis.

From the above conversation, we can conclude that taking in Vitamin E supplements, drinking alcohol, and cigarette smoking cigarettes prior to undertaking a cosmetic treatment, be it rhinoplasty, liposuction, b, or blepharoplasty There is definitely no reason to question why the introduction of advanced innovation has brought up something that is simply as fantastic as plastic and cosmetic surgery. While lots of see it amongst the most appropriate techniques to difficulties that any average specific truly ought to deal with, there may be still some who ignore the total procedure and who will not trouble to know what should be done prior to after cosmetic surgery.

Any individual, who is interested to endure a plastic or cosmetic surgery, is more than needed to discourse his medical record with his doc. It is vital if he preferred to know the important things which he has got to do previously and after plastic surgery.

He should inform his Dr. if he or any one of his family members has actually experienced a condition that discourages the illness battling capability from working properly. Because a plastic and or cosmetic surgery would indicate the implantation of a foreign material to his torso, it is essential to inform a MD on this subject problem. The implantation would probably provoke an swelling that may even end up being deadly if the individual has a not working illness battling ability.

Prior to a cosmetic surgery, it might also help needs to the individual would discourse about the recent prescribed medication that he has actually had. It is needed to inform a MD on that subject due to the fact that he would need to identify if there could perhaps be compounds that may make a damaging chemical reaction with the chemicals that the patient would need to take throughout the surgery.

After the surgery is completed, it could possibly also be required needs to the client would ask the physician about the narcotics that he must take. Probably, the physician would ask the patient to take in some dosages of prescription antibiotics. The antibiotic would safeguard the body from the dysfunctions that might occur as the human body reacts to the extraneous material that would be placed in your body.

Aside from considering the narcotics that would be utilized from the patient, your medical professional might furthermore require to monitor the response of the body as it tries to reply to the modifications that would be made by the surgery. He would do this by arranging a traditional check-up with the client.

Anybody can merely state that plastic surgery is one of the very best technological developments that scientific discipline has to provide. Males and women must still consider the truth that it is more needed to know the things which truly need to be done before and after cosmetic surgery. Doing this would help them secure the wealth that appeal could not alter, their health. reast augmentation, can regrettably hinder total result to a great level along with trigger a large range of unneeded problems. Consuming veggies and fruits right on the day of the surgery is likewise adverse.

Even though vegetables and fruits are normally considered healthy and often incorporated when a balanced Article source diet plan chart is fabricated, they need to be avoided if a person is preparing to go through a cosmetic treatment. There is definitely no factor to question why the development of innovative technology has brought up something that is simply as terrific as plastic and cosmetic surgery. While numerous see it amongst the most acceptable approaches to problems that any typical individual truly ought to face, there might be still some who ignore the total treatment and who will not bother to understand what must be done prior to after cosmetic surgery.

It is crucial to notify a MD on this subject issue since a plastic and or cosmetic surgery would imply the implantation of a foreign product to his upper body. Males and women must still consider the reality that it is more required to understand the things which truly should be done before and after cosmetic surgery.

[spottedtoad]

Freud, in the only book of his I’ve read, The Interpretation of Dreams, argues that every dream, no matter how unpleasant, represents an unarticulated desire. This has always struck me as more convincing (and useful) as a description of fictions like books and movies than for interpreting my own dreams. Whose unarticulated desire is being represented is a matter for debate of course- the protagonist’s, the author or director or performer’s, the audience’s? Hard to say.  Karl Popper said of Freudianism that it wasn’t science because you couldn’t prove it wrong, but literary criticism isn’t astrophysics and a certain malleability goes a long way.

But accept for the moment that movies represent desires (not always unarticulated: I’ve heard multiple four-year-olds say they want to be Iron Man.) What kind of desire is represented by the new movie Joker, comic book in origins but resolutely art house in style? This question was taken to have some social import even before the film was in wide release. A story in which a man (the appellation “young” often added by critics beforehand, though more about that later) finds actualization through psychopathic violence was warned to be a potential instigation to more real life instances of nihilistic violence, of the mass shooter type we’ve seen with great regularity over the last several years. This fear was not, I thought, entirely groundless: a showing of an earlier Batman-related movie, The Dark Knight Rises,  was the scene of a 2012 mass shooting, and while as it turned out that killer had not intended his dyed hair to mark himself as “the Joker,” the rumor that he had has persisted. The earlier incarnation of this character by Heath Ledger, in the 2010 The Dark Knight, seemed indeed to embody exactly what makes mass shootings a potent source of terror, in spite of their low aggregate frequency and body count relative to other forms of homicide: The Dark Knight‘s Joker was motivated by chaos for its own sake, often contradicting himself in discussing his motivations and “how I got these scars.” Heath Ledger’s death at 28 prior to The Dark Knight‘s release from a cocktail of abused prescription drugs put a seal on an indelible performance, suggesting the darkness of the character (in a movie that, to be honest, I find kind of a slog whenever Ledger’s Joker is not on screen) came at least in part from real life internal torment as well as the actor, director, and screenwriters’ craft.

If this backstory gave some cause for concern, media outlets were eager to magnify it, with dozens of articles warning that the Joker movie could set off copycat (copying off of real or fictional violence unclear) killings, to the point where it became ambiguous whether these articles were intended to forestall violence, use its threat to boost ticket sales, or, for the benefit of an ideological narrative, call it into existence. Fortunately, we have been spared any accompanying violence related to the film; even last night, there were two uniformed local policy prominently standing at the entrance to my local megaplex when my wife and I went to see the 9:45.

The genre which Joker forms a part of is both an unusual one- the art house homage to Taxi Driver and King of Comedy that is also a comic book movie- while it is also immediately adjacent to the preeminent commercial production of our time, the superhero origin story. Almost every superhero franchise and reboot now begins with a portrayal of how the hero gained his or her powers, how he or she became- by magic or mutation or training montage- a god sent to live among men. The origin story is, it would appear, the audience’s entry-point into identification with the superhero; it is not enough that the great ones of the earth have our interest at heart, but that we learn how they were once weak and helpless like us, whether as babies saved from Krypton or as young orphaned billionaire heirs.

More precisely analogous to Joker is 2011’s X-Men: First Class, which sought to portray the origin not of an individual superhero (though it is really antihero Magneto’s film) but of the broader social world of the other X-Men films, of Professor X’s School for mutants as well as Magneto’s competing band of outlaws. What was distinctive about First Class was its temporal setting: casting backwards before the era of the earlier movies of the series, it sets itself in a mythic Kennedy Era of Cold War intrigue (unleashed in the film by mutants rather than ideology) and of mutants’ Civil Rights struggles substituting for black Americans’. While to me one of the most artistically successful of recent superhero movies, First Class is notable in how comfortable its alternative history feels to us; we are used to viewing the era immediately before the 60s counterculture as an ancien regime both glorious and unjust, as Mad Men was fond of showing- we are eager both to revel in the aesthetics and grandiosity of the world of the Baby Boomers’ childhood and deplore its moral failures and unequal civic ethics.

Joker is more unfamiliar and unsettling in its setting. The disintegration of urban America prior to its partial rebirth in the last 30 years is easily remembered, and in the case of New York, where Joker is more-or-less explicitly set, is often if incompletely discussed. But it is an ambiguous and incompletely mythologized portion of our collective narrative. What exactly led to American cities being riddled with garbage, graffiti and crime, near abandoned by middle class families, aesthetically blighted and seemingly spiritually bereft? Why were there over 2,000 murders a year in New York City (when there have been under 300 per year in a larger city in the last few years)? My precinct in my last neighborhood in Brooklyn had 99 rapes in a single year in the early 90s, and only one the year I lived there, 2006. To say that this descent into Tartarus was due to lead poisoning, or white flight, are clearly incomplete; to say this was due to a collapse of civic authority and popular morality begs the question.

Joker is, in its own way, eager to answer this question. The Gotham of Joker is not Tim Burton’s cartoonish 1940s Gothic of his Batman movies, or Christopher Nolan’s Bloombergian circle of shiny glass and steel from the Dark Knight trilogy. It is, instead, an exaggeratedly decayed, almost shattered, version of the 1970s pimps-and-pushers New York of Taxi Driver, with an endless garbage strike reminiscent of several from 1968 to 1977 piling refuse in every exterior shot, over which giant rats crawl, and the filming locations drawn from the sadder and more austere corners of the Outer Boroughs. The movie’s most deliberately iconic image, of Joaquin Phoenix’s Joker dancing on the steps leading to his apartment building, is a real staircase in the Bronx several blocks from the school where I taught and which I described in 13 Ways of Going on a Field Trip.

In fact, in an ill-fated field trip that didn’t make it into the book, I led my students to and from Crotona Park past those exact stairs to dig up and observe grubs and earthworms. (On the way back, a boy was accused of slapping a girl’s butt, leading to hours of recrimination, between me and the students and between the principal and me). I lived at the time next to a similar, if slightly less filmic set of stairs in Washington Heights, and spent a lot of time in apartment buildings identical in design if slightly less poorly maintained to the one where Joaquin’s character Arthur Fleck, lives. The subway stations and trains are similarly familiar to anyone who has lived in New York, even if the names are changed.

All of which is to say that Joker wants itself to be set in a real-seeming, if mythically nightmarish, New York-turned-Gotham, a 1970s megalopolis collapsing under its own refuse and under the burden of hatred and collective ill will. The first image of the film is a faded, deliberately dated version of the Warner Brothers’ logo, flickering and faltering. The human elements of Gotham are, in general, shown through a similarly harsh lens; while many reviewers describe the Arthur Fleck character as an alienated young man, Joaquin Phoenix is shown as anything but; his face, on screen for practically every shot, is made to seem every minute of his 44 years:

His wasted torso, for which the actor lost over 50 pounds, is similarly contorted, abandoned, presumptively worn down by the character’s nonexistent diet, constant chainsmoking, and cocktail of pharmaceutical meds. There’s something interesting about this visual emphasis on the character and actor’s age. Compare, for example, to Robert De Niro’s Travis Bickle in Taxi Driver, a youthful 32 playing 26:

De Niro’s Travis Bickle is, implicitly, the “all American kid from New York City,” explaining other characters’ frequent positive affect towards him, and his own social incapacity and descent into violence is, visually at least, the result of the fallen world impinging upon him rather than his own intrinsic corruption. He amiably convinces Cybil Shephard to go out with him on a date, before his incomprehension of the world leads him to take her to an X-rated film.  Joaquin Phoenix’s Arthur Fleck on the other hand, is not only visibly aged and incapable of ordinary conversation, passing into peals of barking laughter and incoherence, but evidently has an inner life constructed only of darkness and destructive images, as shown by the ink-scribbled journal and alleged joke diary he writes in, into which pornographic images are taped and from which inopportunely fall out.

What exactly is Arthur Fleck- or Joaquin Phoenix- doing in this 1970s world, we might ask? While X Men: First Class substituted youthful James McAvoy and Michael Fassbender in telling the origin of the characters previously inhabited by Patrick Stewart and Ian McKellen, Joker is about a middle aged man trapped in perpetual boyhood, searching pathetically for father figures, resentful of his mother’s injuries to him, yearning for women with whom he cannot speak. It seems not coincidental that both Phoenix and director/screenwriter Todd Phillips are of an age to have been born roughly at the time of the film’s setting, and that the film’s central axis finds Fleck trying to understand the mystery of his birth, becoming the Joker only when this question is revealed to be unanswerable. In other words, Joker is a Generation X origin story, an attempt to find, in the inscrutable dirt of urban blight, the origin of an inconvenient and extraneous generation like Fleck’s inconvenient and extraneous man.

If the viewer is cast backwards into the past to find their own origins amid 1970s decay, Fleck is equally out of temporal step with his world. A clown is intrinsically a dated persona, even in a 1970s milieu, and much of the film emphasizes that Arthur’s world is itself locked in an inaccessible and unrealized past. Arthur first appears dancing to a ragtime piece, watches Fred Astaire on TV, and the songs referenced up until his transformation into the Joker are either old (“Slap That Bass,” “That’s Life,” Jimmy Durante’s “Smile” ) or deliberately dated despite their 1970s provenance, like “Send in the Clowns.” When Arthur tails Thomas Wayne to the theatre, it is Charlie Chaplin’s 1936 Modern Times that they- and the rest of the city’s fat cats- are watching and laughing to; just as we as viewers are caught off from the mystery and dishonor of our origins amid 1970s decay, Arthur cannot come to understand his origins in the forgotten and unlearnable disgraces of the 30s.

At the same time, Arthur is, like Charlie Chaplin’s tramp, incapable of speech, but expressive in movement.  While Travis Bickle’s social missteps are mitigated by his youth and external amiability and the measured tone of his voiceovers, Arthur Fleck is redeemed only in a few moments of physical performance- in the moments before a gang of kids intercedes to attack him or a gun falls out of his pocket, he is clearly a gifted physical performer when in make-up as a clown. While the film concludes with him becoming the Joker, his acts of violence having merged the darkness of his inner verbal life with the grace and self-possession of his clown performance, self-actualized in psychopathy.  Suddenly, the film’s dissonance between temporal setting and cultural signifiers disappear- the Joker dances to Gary Glitter’s 1973 “Rock and Roll (Part 2)” on the stairs, and as Gotham descends into the fire and chaos that delights the Joker’s heart, that universal cliche of unchained liberation, Cream’s “White Room” plays a few distorted guitar bars of freedom.

A hidden tension in our culture- starting to become less hidden- is that once Baby Boomers took over the culture, historical consciousness became somewhat fixed and recent eras have been mostly exempt from the myth-making and revisionism that dominate our views of the world before Watergate. My guess is that both MeToo and some of the media controversy over Joker are partly driven by this closed book starting to open and people angling to grab control over what can be written in it and what cannot. For now, it seems telling the story of the costs of post-Sixties liberation and urban blight is allowable, as long as these costs are presented as result of empowering the rich, white, male, and straight to indulge temptations, not a broader breakdown of order that encompassed multiple types of culprit and victims. This creation of historical myth is perhaps what distinguishes the prominent generational cohorts from the marginal ones.

The supposed political controversy over Joker is at one level strange; the film takes a basically left-sympathetic view of the horror of Gotham, with canceled social services and rich, sadistic or narcissistic businessmen primarily to blame, and the racial dynamics of Joker are at least at a surface level politically correct. While Arthur is assaulted by a mixed-race group of young hoodlums at the movie’s onset, he explicitly forgives them, in a way he doesn’t the three rich white men who attack him later. The riots by which Gotham is consumed at the film’s end is shown as outsider white men rising up against insider, rich white men. The four main black characters- his social worker, his next door love interest, a clerk at the insane asylum he convinces to share his mother’s file, and a psychiatrist he meets with at the end of the film- are not only sympathetic and kind. They are essentially the only characters, apart from a colleague with dwarfism, to show Arthur attention and concern, and with whom he finds himself eager to express himself in humane terms and show himself to be sane. Not coincidentally, they are filmed in a forgiving and gracious light, at odds with the washed-out and unforgiving appearance of almost all the other (white) characters.

  If there is a racial subtext to Joker– and this is America, how could there not be- it is likely that it is, in fact, the desire to sideline racial conflict from the paroxysms of post-60s urban life, to present black Americans as patient, sane, wisely enduring bystanders to class and civic conflict and crime rather than primary participants and victims.  Arthur’s visible fantasies- or hallucinations- of a love affair with his next door neighbor are exaggeratedly chaste, in spite of the cutout pictures of naked black women in his notebook. While 1970s films themselves often wished to juggle the social role of blacks and whites in collective consciousness (as Rocky did), or to offer white men a role as instruments of reactionary vengeance without explicitly invoking racial revenge (as Taxi Driver  did by making the main target of Travis Bickle’s bloodshed the white pimp played by Harvey Keitel), Joker takes place in a different kind of dream-like world- there is a reason Arthur’s six-shooter revolver shoots nine bullets in his first burst of violence. The dream desire I would guess it seeks is to find an origin story for our own incoherences, inequalities, injustices, that does not make race determinative of whether one is inside or outside the circle of privilege, in the present and in the past. If fictions are defined by pretending to be someone else, perhaps Joker is an attempt by middle aged white guys, to be sure to say that, while they may be- perhaps definitively are- the villain, they can at least choose what kind of villain they wish to be.  This choice amounts, according to many in media, and an increasing segment of our most prominent institutions,  to the Joker dancing on concrete steps following bloody deeds, an ornamentation of psychopathy that does not and cannot change its character, whether we used to think our story a comedy, but now realize it is a tragedy, or the other way around.

The Generation X Origin Story Freud, in the only book of his I've read, The Interpretation of Dreams, argues that every dream, no matter how unpleasant, represents an unarticulated desire.

[crossyourminds]

You Want 2 Know My Story?

Well, if this is my story being told to you, I would like to write it in a format more fitting for my persona. I just never really liked the whole, “limit your imagination to five paragraphs and two hundred and fifty words,” kind of thing. My name, is Adrey Arroyo. I am not your average 19 year old with daddy’s money or dreams of being a doctor. I, just like any other being on this Earth, have come across many different obstacles that have brought me to where I am today. And today, I’m sitting in front of a computer screen expressing that change.

Going to school as an obese, Mexican, child in the predominantly white world I call Santa Clarita, I was never really considered accepted or cool enough to talk to. Previously living in East Palmdale, the “hood,” was no different. I was constantly bullied verbally and physically. I was “that kid.” The fat kid. Not having many friends or anyone that wanted to play handball with a handball, I resorted to writing. I figured if I couldn’t have any friends, than I could create them with my mind using a piece of paper and pencil. I began to write and draw. I always enjoyed comparing things to reality. Like colors to emotions or pictures to sounds. Just being able to understand one thing more than once truly fascinated me.

Just like life at school, life at home was no different. Constantly looked upon as a self image, my father considered himself a failure when he would see the public point or laugh at me. My father, was my biggest bully. He was the voice inside my head. “Don’t eat this,” or “you can’t do that,” is pretty much what I grew up with. My mother was the more caring soft spoken one, at times. Although caring and being spoken to softly was nice from time to time, my mother had trouble staying happy. See my mom flipped her emotions faster than a coin toss at a football game.

Not having anyone to truly rely on or consider a true friend, I feared school. I was terrified of what occurred behind the walls of Saugus High school. I didn’t wanna go. But I had reached a point in my life of pure exhaustion. I had grown with so much anger and no way to release it, I was bound to explode. I was tired of the name calling. I was tired of the laughing. I was tired of the exclusion. I was tired of the bullshit. So I lost it.

I lost 65 pounds that summer going into my freshman year. I started school as a completely different person. Although that difference was merely physical, I was still an awkward kid and feared talking to someone other than my reflection. I was no longer pointed at for the rolls on my sides. Shit. I wasn’t  even acknowledged anymore. I went from creating so much attention among the student body to nothing but a ghost that walked the campus. Invisible. A nobody.

At this point, I had never been more confused in my entire life. I did what they all wanted me to do. I lost weight. I lost the fat they all knew me for and now they didn’t even have the decency to say hi to me. I was more mad now than fat. I gave up again. Except this time, it wasn’t physical. This, is when it hit me. I gave up trying to be accepted. To me, this was my fate. I let go.

I no longer cared. If you wanted to talk to me I would talk back, and if not than I didn’t. I figured I owed it to myself to be happy and if I couldn’t be happy than I could at least create something that would. My words of imagination throughout the years were still piling up. But paper just couldn’t capture it anymore. I was no longer satisfied with letters on a sheet of a dead tree. I needed life. I needed images. I needed to create these words to reality. I wanted us, to understand us. I need the world to understand our one world more than once. So I joined my video production class as a freshman in high school.

They say comfort brings out the best in you, and I think that’s what Mr. Williams’ video class taught me that year. I had never been more comfortable with a crowd. I finally felt accepted with being myself. (Who woulda known that it would have ever been in from of the camera?) I found myself heavily into the film community at school, both in front and behind the camera. I became (somewhat) the face of my school’s news (SNN : Saugus News Network). I became the popular kid. I became the exact, social, opposite of what I was just  a few years ago.

Life as a high school, ignorant, popular kid always disgusted me. I hated the bullying and the put downs, so I made sure I connected and socialized with all personalities. I was an awkward person. But the only popular one. I reached out to those going through personal issues like that of myself. I was referred to the safe school ambassadors club and later referred to a students mentor training. After 6 months of after school psychological training, I was certified as one of my high schools student mentors (student psychologist). So in a way I guess I have the mind of a psychologist. The mind and it’s constant flips truly attracted me.

Again, needing a new form of releasing my understandings of the mind, I needed a new form of “preaching” if you will. I was introduced to music after a relentless breakup. The typical high school sweet heart heartbreak. She cheated on me. This being the cutest girl I’ve ever spoken to, let alone the only girlfriend I’ve ever had, I was unprepared for the dark times my mind was about to go through. I reached a stage of pure confusion and depression where I just became hungry with my thoughts and could not keep them in any longer.

The following morning, I skated my ass over to best buy and bought myself a keyboard with the money I was gonna use for her christmas present. This by far was the best investment I have ever made. I locked myself in my room and literally taught myself to play by sound. Hungry for release, I poured my little heart out on these keys. This wack breakup story is literally what brought me into the world of sounds and their power behind what those words can really do to someone.

Although a lot of my songs were soft as fuck, my anger about the situation started making it’s appearance a lot more comfortable around me. I think just being so secluded with nothing but your pissed heart broke ass you tend to go a little crazy. This, is when “dre.” was born. I found comfort releasing my anger almost literal as another persona. Someone much darker that was nothing of my real personality. A form of diary, if you will. I guess that’s when my boy Javier made a remix beat to System of a Down’s Lonely Day, and the hate letter I had wrote to my ex (never intended to send to her) started to just flow over the beat.

This song is what created my music outlook today. To tell the truth and help you understand that there is more than one way of understanding something, and that’s completely okay. You’re not crazy, there’s other people out there experiencing the same shit you are. You are not alone. The ironic beauty, Lonely Day, is what established me as an artist in the LA area. The utter truth. Who woulda known so many would be so inspired by it?

Losing a best friend and 17 years old was also quite a stir in my personality, but after months of retaliation and personal obstacles, I found myself at ease with Nutmeg. Feeling loss and truly experiencing it will fuck you up, but it’s whether or not you get yourself out of it to acknowledge what exactly it was that you lost. Now admiring what I still have, I cherish those moments with those around me who helped me change and grow into the artist I am today.

Graduating without the presence of my father, made it pretty obvious that both he and I never really had a relationship. I moved out days after the ceremony and began my job as a production assistant for a production company in hollywood. I had to grow up. Fast.

Life won’t ever hit you harder than when you first realize you have bills and food to buy. Without meeting those standards, you ain’t getting no where. I think that same stress just being piled on me, along with my fathers, is what really fucked up my body. That december, I was diagnosed with osteoporosis and possible osteosarcoma, leading to several prescription drugs and labs. Mysecond home was now the hospital. Living at my own expense and stubbornness, I kept the whole cancer ordeal to myself. I didn’t let any body know, including my family. I received radiation treatment on my cranium to loosen and release any cells and liquids within my brain. So, let’s just say I got part of the idea of being a patient.

After months of bipolar doctors, giving me one hope and shooting it down with a lab, I gave in. I told my mom and she pleaded that I moved in. Again being a stubborn fuck, I asked my mom that she kept it to herself and that the only way I’m moving back home, is if I don’t live in the house. (I could not live under the same roof as my pops) So we began the studio building process. After a few weeks of construction my backyard studio and lounge was built. The Tabernacle was born. I moved into my studio and spend almost all of my time just vibing in there. I had it built with a recording booth along with a two way mirror into it. The other half of the studio is a blank wall I use for shooting my films n photos.

A year later, I’m finally able to start physical activity and work again. I’ve been without a job for months now because I couldn’t stand for over ten minutes without creating too much pressure on my spine and cranium. Funny story is that I also just lost my newest girl to it. I guess seeing me become a loser due to medical shit just wasn’t attractive to her anymore. It’s a beautiful thing to hear a doctor tell you you’re good. Not just, fine, but YOU GOOD. Losing people in this road to recovery has only opened my eyes to a broader audience. Getting through a bone disease without the support of my father has made my bones brittle but stronger. I got through this shit. I really got through this shit, and I didn’t become a disabled young adult, I really did get through this shit. On myown.

To help mesh why I wrote this big of an entry to my music link, is to help you understand what your listening to. To know not only the story behind the sound, but the building of it also. This is my diary to you. And as any individual who pertains to any higher being, keep that aside. Growing up as a strict catholic active in my church, I’ve had to learn how to put all that aside to help youunderstand more than once. Not only in your perspective, but those of your neighbors, your class mates, your annoyances and obsessions. This sound cloud page is a story being untold to you. You take your perspective on it. All I’m doing is reassuring you in what you might believe is right.

The choice is yours.

I am Adrey.

22 years old.

Alive.

And fucking breathing.

-dre.

(click on the music tab)

or

soundcloud.com/adreyarroyo

[cbd-biz-blog]

What it's like running a CBD company as a one-woman show

In nine short months, Alexis Rosenbaum has successfully broken into the CBD industry single-handedly, writes Zachary Zane. Her company Rosebud is already bringing in six figures monthly and is on track to hit over $1 million in revenue by its one-year mark. Not wanting others to have a hand in her business, the 32-year-old entrepreneur created her company without a dime from investors. As Rosenbaum approaches the end of her first year in the cannabis industry, Civilizedcaught up with the “one-woman show” to not only find out what she’s learned, but how she found herself involved in CBD, after spending the first three decades of her life living in the Ohio boondoc Alexis, tell us about how you first discovered CBD. I actually didn’t start using cannabis until my 29th birthday. Once I started experimenting with cannabis and saw how it positively impacted my life, I wanted to find a way to use it medicinally every day. At the time, I struggled finding a way to microdose THC. The only way to alleviate my anxiety was to hit a bowl or smoke a joint, but then I was high, which sometimes became an issue when I was trying to work during the day. Then I tried CBD, since it’s all the rage. It helped with my debilitating anxiety, which was both physical and metal. I had anxiety from a racing mind. Shortness of breath. Increased heart rate. Lack of sleep. Zero appetite. I was running a business I previously owned while sick, and was barely getting through. My stress was so bad. I desperately needed a way to self-medicate and relax in the evening. CBD worked. It dramatically changed my life, and was something I could also use during the day. Why did you decide to switch from being a consumer to a seller? As someone who’s very health-oriented, I struggled to find a company that was transparent about where and how they were growing, as well as what was actually in the product. Most of the stuff I found was filled with other fillers, essential oils and flavoring. The CBD companies I researched also didn’t speak to what I was looking for with branding and messaging. I had sold my previous business in October of 2017 and wanted to get into something new. Cannabis was something I had spent the majority of my life against, but then experimenting with it, and seeing how much it impacted my life positively, I thought who better to adequately communicate this amazing beautiful plant than myself? Then I spent a lot of time researching, networking, and trying to find farms that I could have a direct relationship with and that I could have a call with weekly. I then took it from there. In addition to transparency, how else does your business model differ from other CBD brands? A lot of what’s on the market today is very scientific and very cold, which has some validity. Of course, research is very important, but I think a lot of companies in the CBD industry are not connecting their product to a real user. At Rosebud, we do. We also really try hard to sell a service first and then a product second. So we have very thorough customer service. We’re on DMs and emails all day. If we don’t have answers – we direct people in the right direction. What also separates Rosebud is our organic growing processes on our farms, which are unlike anything I’ve ever heard of. Our farmers really believe in restoring the land first, nurturing our plants organically, and providing what they can from the earth alone. Our farm was recently awarded the USDA Organic certification and it applies to this year. Come April, our products moving forward will be certified organic. Could you go into all the big and little things you personally do as CEO? I don’t think everyone is aware of all the work it takes to start and run a cannabis company. The day-to-day operation is intense and sometimes I show that on my Instagram.  I have a funny video on there of me on a call, while labeling boxes and doing a number of other tasks simultaneously. I honestly like doing everything myself at the moment, because it gives me an opportunity to perfect every aspect of the business before handing off certain functions to others. But the reason I’m still here is that I truly love every minute of it. I’m passionate about the product and the opportunity to build a life for myself. I love receiving testimonials from customers saying that their tremors have been significantly reduced or that their insomnia has gone away after having tried every over-the-counter or prescription medication on the market and then finally discovering Rosebud. And currently, you’re a one-woman-show, correct? You’re doing all this work single-handedly? That’s right, but is it a goal of mine to have every single piece of the company on my mind and my plate? It is not. I have three words, which define my goals for 2019: scale, refine, and expand. So I want to work hard on refining our place and who we are. And we’re looking to scale and bring on some team members and then hopefully expand. Today, everyone wants to be a CEO. Everyone raises funds and hires various teams to help, and people begin to lose control of their own company and their original sight and mission. They sell off shares in exchange for raising capital. While that model can be helpful to accelerate business, it’s never been an interest of mine. Running my own business is an extension of who I am and what I’m truly passionate about. I feel like when we launched, things took off a lot faster than I could have ever imagined, which is why it’s a been one-woman show at this time, but it’s wearing and tearing on me for sure. So definitely looking to hire people this year. Luckily you have Rosebud CBD to help with your anxiety. Speaking of which, tell us about some of Rosebud’s products. Everything we make at Rosebud is clean, pure, simple, and versatile. We have three strengths of CBD at 350mg, 700mg, and 1,000mg. Each batch of hemp at each formula by bottle size is put through a third-party controlled study, where we test 32+ more units each. Recently we launched our CBD salve at 350mg. The salve is made of certified organic ingredients in partnership with Lauren’s All Purpose Salve. What major lessons have you learned in the past nine months? First, I would advise people looking to break into the cannabis industry to not be as naïve as I was. While cannabis is all about friendliness, acceptance, and being open – it’s truly a peace offering at the end of the day – I went into this space thinking that everyone operated around those same values. Unfortunately, it’s an extremely greedy industry. Not every person within the industry adequately represents what cannabis stands for and that was a really hard lesson for me to learn. Second, I learned to button up Rosebud’s interactions with a strong legal team, to create strong agreements and contracts, and, unfortunately, to not meet with anyone until they sign an NDA. Third, I learned that it is OK to say no to people, events, and opportunities. It is really important to me that I remain in control of when, where, and how the brand of Rosebud is represented. Anything new and exciting planned for 2019? We have a lot of exciting plans and goals in 2019, which include brand refinement, elevating and updating our website, relaunching our subscription service, and a handful of new products that I am really excited to bring to market. You can expect more video content, more storytelling, and some really exciting Rosebud events and activations! (Rights of the text go to 420intel.com. Image is from shutterstock) Read the full article

[cripthevoteuk-blog]

Disabled in Theresa May’s Britain #34: Lauren [CW: suicide]

From West Midlands

In 2016 I was receiving okay (not great, but okay) treatment from Birmingham MH services for Bipolar Disorder whilst studying at university. I had regular appointments with a psychiatrist, I could always get my medication and I had somewhere to call/go in MH emergencies. 

In June 2016, I was informed that I would be immediately discharged from the adult services as everyone under 25 was to be moved to the new extended child and adolescent services 'Forward Thinking Birmingham'. I was told that I'd get a letter from FTB soon. My psychiatrist gave me prescriptions covering a much greater period of time than he had ever been comfortable doing before, I suspect because he knew I would not actually be hearing from them any time soon. He stressed to me that if I needed help in an emergency before FTB picked me up I could contact him there. I heard nothing from FTB until October. 

I called daily for months. My parents called daily. The most we ever got was an assurance that someone would phone us. I had an emergency in the summer. I tried to contact my old psychiatrist and was told by other staff that as I wasn't an adult patient anymore they couldn't let me speak to him. I ran out of medication. GPs wouldn't give me prescriptions without speaking to a current psychiatrist- which I didn't have. 

In September I went back for my third year of university pretty unwell. My university offered specialist mentoring for students with serious MH problems. I hadn't needed it before but now, receiving no treatment whatsoever and only able to get meds through a family friend with prescribing powers, I needed the help. To get that mentoring I needed a current psychiatrist. My university GP changed and that saved me. He started calling/writing to FTB about my case and others similar. He was visibly angry at them in our conversations and said they were totally unequipped to deal with the influx of patients but had lied and said they were. He said no one checked this. Through his efforts, I finally got an appointment in October. 

Instead of a hospital, I went to a dirty community centre in Selly Oak full of screaming children. They had none of my records or information. I had to go through my entire history again with my 'core worker', who told me that they were having trouble finding psychiatrists to see new 18-25 patients because all their previous psychiatrists were child and adolescent ones not suited to adult patients. He said they had to 'borrow' adult psychiatrists when they could find them and afford them and then hire extra space in random buildings around Birmingham, when possible, because their existing buildings were obviously used by their existing 0-18 work. I asked for a prescription and he told me he couldn't do that. He said he could ask the duty doctor but he "wouldn't like it". I started to cry so he agreed to do it so I would leave. 

I had to come back the next day for my prescription and when I did it was wrong. My mood stabiliser dose had changed and the type of antidepressant I was on changed totally. I challenged this and was told that the doctor 'thought it would be better'. I refused to accept it because no one with any medical credentials had seen me before making this change. I had to come back the next day. They had forgotten. The next day the drugs were right but the doses were wrong. Fortunately I already had a GP appointment that day too and I explained everything to him in tears. He wrote me a correct prescription and said he'd be speaking to them about this. 

I was offered a psychiatrist appointment in November, my first since June (I had previously been seeing or speaking to my psychiatrist once a month). My core worker was supposed to be there but didn't show up. The psychiatrist I saw tried to persuade me to change mood stabilisers and arranged blood tests to prepare for this. He talked a lot about talking therapies I could try which I agreed to. He said 'someone' would contact me about them. This didn't happen. I chased it up but I was just told someone would call me. They didn't. I had the blood tests but nothing happened. I didn't hear anything from FTB until January when my GP again stepped in. I'd been calling them as often as I could but I was at Uni 9-6 most days and the number was open 9-4. Even then they mostly didn't pick up and when they did they took my number and told me someone would get back to me. 

My cousin died in November. By January I was the sickest I'd been in years. When they got in contact in January they told my GP via letter they had seen me in December. This is either a mix up on their part or a complete lie. They later told my GP about two other appointments that didn't happen. When I challenged them on this they admitted that there hadn't been appointments and blamed admin. They offered me an appointment in February with my temporary core worker (as mine was on annual leave). He made me fill in a flow diagram about 'how I came to be this way' that I assume was designed for children as it had cute cartoons on it. I wrote "I have bipolar disorder" in every box. He laughed. I cried. That was the whole session. I'd given up on getting meds from them at this point and fortunately my amazing GP was seeing me regularly. 

At the end of February I got so ill I had to take time out of uni. I knew from past experience I was going to seriously hurt myself if I stayed. The University were amazing with this. I had to get extensions on several assignments including my dissertation and my mental health advisor from student support, personal tutor and project supervisor fought my corner to ensure that a GP letter was enough proof for the extensions- because I couldn't get one from a psychiatrist. My GP changed my antidepressant dosage. He wasn't comfortable doing it, but he wanted to help and knew that FTB weren't doing anything. The change sent me manic for a couple of weeks. I hurt myself accidentally during the mania and then intentionally during the depressive period that followed. I came back to uni eventually and had to defer my summer exams because I was now so behind. Having hurt myself was enough to get me another psychiatrist appointment. This time the core worker standing in for my original core worker did show up. They talked a lot between themselves and asked me something occasionally. They didn't have any of my information so we had to do my entire history again, but we ran out of time because of their conversation. I asked about the blood tests I had and the psychiatrist told me he had records of arranging the tests but hadn't received the results. He said he wouldn't arrange any more tests because I was nearly finished with university and probably wouldn't be around long enough for it to be worthwhile. He gave me a prescription (the first correct one I'd had from MH services since June the previous year) and also a prescription for sleeping pills (that I didn't want or need) "to make things easier". I don't know what he meant by that. 

Then nothing until April. I asked to speak to either of the core workers I'd seen and was told that they had both left the service weeks ago. (Since then receptionists had been telling me that one of them would call me back, despite them no longer working there). I asked if I had been assigned to anyone else. The receptionist sighed and asked if I really thought I needed to be. I said yes and she said that someone would call me back. I'm still waiting and calling. 

Within my university I know 4 other people who were moved from Birmingham adult services to Forward Thinking Birmingham. 2 have dropped out entirely since their treatment and safety nets disappeared. 1 has taken a year of medical leave. 1 killed himself. 

From online forums I've heard loads more stories like this from young people who've had their support/services/access to medications taken away. Some of them haven't posted anything in a long time now. I hope they're okay. I think they probably aren't. 

The overwhelming feeling we've all had is that the child services are totally unable to deal with us, unable to admit that, and just want us to go away. They want us to just disappear. So they ignore us and brush us off again and again because eventually that will work. We don't have it in us to keep fighting with them forever. 

The only reason I've fought this long is because of my GP and family's support. Most people simply do not have the support I've had. Often we just want to disappear too, so to hear that from the services that are supposed to help us is unbearable. 

It is active encouragement to kill yourself. I've been habitually suicidal since my late teens. Since my support evaporated because I was suddenly the wrong age I think about killing myself daily. I have no hope that things will get better- other than the vague idea that if I get to 25 the adult services will be better again. I suspect they probably won't be. And I'm not sure I'll manage to hold on that long. 

We are dying. Yes, we are killing ourselves, but we would not be doing this if basic services weren't being withheld. We are dying because we are being killed.