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hermannsthumb · 2 years

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I have seen a lot of coffee shop au where Newton is the flirty bartender, but i'd like to Read one where Hermann is making coffee and At odd hours this stupidly attractive hipster with not At all sexy tattoo happens to pass by and implore for the most sugary and caffainated beverage ever. Of corse banter, biology Vs maths discussions and geeky lines totally not Read on the web. Could you do that, pls?

you know i’ve never actually written a coffee shop AU but ksci and I were talking about a concept for one a few months back soooooo….!!! a college AU because I love thinking about how annoying they must’ve been in college, and also because I have been spending too much time ordering from my campus coffee bar and its put me in the mood. FIRST PROMPT FILL OF 2022, WOW

——

If Hermann had more choice in the matter of picking his campus job when he was accepted into the university three years ago, he’s not sure—actually, no, he’s very sure—barista would have been very high up on his list. But there was the business of his student visa, and figuring out the legality of employment, and of course the long and frustrating relocation overseas and search for proper housing, and by the time his plane landed and unpacked his ragged suitcases in his dorm room his options had grown severely limited. It was either joining the staff at one of the campus bookstores or making overpriced lattes at the STEM building coffee bar, with its twee menu of drinks named after famous scientists, perfectly-arranged collection of grey couches and grey armchairs, and $2 upcharge for non-dairy milk. Because the latter offered him more perks with which to help him stretch his paltry student’s budget (one free drink per shift, twenty-percent discounts on everything else, and as many teabags and mildly stale pastries as he can shove in his pockets without his colleagues noticing on nights he closes up shop), he settled easily into that one.

Hermann signed up to work the latest shifts possible under the impression that there would not be nearly as many customers as there would be otherwise. Who on earth wants an espresso or some other such nonsense between ten PM to two AM? It was naive of him, really, because it turns out many people do, and the students that stop by at that time range from generally irritable to visibly exhausted, and compensate for it by behaving either uncomfortably and energetically friendly or outright rude. Oddly enough, Hermann prefers the rude ones, because it means he will not be expected to make small talk or pretend to care about any pleasantries offered to him, and it gives him more leeway to be rude in return without facing as many repercussions.

Despite his best efforts, he does have one repeated customer who seems to think them friends of a sort, and has since Hermann’s first week on the job. It’s especially unfortunate because Hermann cannot imagine willingly befriending him under any circumstances: a dreadful combination of short, loud, and energetic, even when he staggers up to the counter with dark circles under his eyes and orders four shots of espresso in a single drink, with hair invariably either gelled to stiff peaks or sticking up in all directions anyway and two bright sleeves of tattoos that make Hermann wonder exactly how much of the fellow’s financial aid was spent solely on school expenses, a stupid nickname (Newt) that makes Hermann frown every time he has to write it on the side of one of his prefered sugar-laden nightmares. Often he has a sticker-laden acoustic guitar strapped to his back, and he’s worn the same ragged and unlaced pair of black Doc Martens every time Hermann has seen him. The only pleasant things about Newt are his glasses (which are thick, cracked across the edge of the left lens, and make him look rather sweet) and, though Hermann would admit this only under extreme duress, his skinny jeans, which accentuate the, er, final pleasant thing about him. Well, he does tip Hermann rather nicely too.

Not that Hermann goes out of his way to catalogue and memorize things about Newt. He’s merely observant. When someone orders the same drink (an iced caramel macchiato with oatmilk and extra caramel and extra espresso) twice a week (Monday and Wednesday—well, technically, Hermann supposes the clock has inched into Tuesday and Thursday at that point during his shift) at one in the morning, you learn to be observant of them, and you learn to stop wondering what on earth could drive someone to order an iced caramel macchiato with extra caramel and extra espresso at one in the morning twice a week, rain, shine, or snow.

And anyway, it’s easy to be observant when Newt refuses to stop his attempts to make small talk with Hermann. Always it’s a hey, dude, followed up by some inane comment about the weather (wow, it was so hot today, or did you hear we’re supposed to get snow tomorrow?), then some sort of personal question directed at Hermann (do you have any plans for the weekend, are you doing anything cool for break, did you see X new movie or read X new book, how are your classes) that Hermann will never devote more than one word in answer to, before he finally places his order, lingers at the pickup counter, watches Hermann awkwardly while Hermann makes his drink, and then (clutching his iced macchiato to his chest) scurries off like a little squirrel with a peanut. Hermann wishes he could figure out what Newt’s bloody game is—he must think Hermann gets lonely or bored sitting there for hours and is attempting to be nice. Dreadful. And deeply unnecessary.

Tonight is the first night in the entirety of Hermann’s near three years working at the coffee bar that he has changed that routine. When (as usual) he sees familiar head of pointy hair and large glasses swaggering in through the front doors of the building, rather than resigning himself to the uncomfortable conversation sure to follow, he’s possessed by some strange urge he himself can’t understand: he pulls a large cup down from the stack and begins Newt’s drink. He’s finished in seconds, and thrusting it out at Newt before Newt can so much as open his mouth to order. Newt, clearly taken aback, blinks at him. “Uh,” he says. “What’s this?”

“Your macchiato,” Hermann says.

“But. I haven’t... ordered, yet,” Newt says.

“You get the same thing every day, Newt,” Hermann sighs. He’s seen Newt stumble through a snowstorm for his stupid little iced macchiato. “Please, just take it. Are you paying with your campus dollars?”

Newt nods. “Um,” he says. “Yeah.”

He’s carrying his guitar today, which he hefts back up onto his shoulder as he fumbles around in his pockets for his wallet. Hermann punches in the total on their register system while he waits. The same strange urge as before grips him, and he finds himself leaving off the $2 surcharge for oatmilk. He wonders if Newt will even notice. Probably not. “Here!” Newt declares, and swipes his student ID through the card reader. His student photo pops up briefly on Hermann’s screen—it’s quite a cute one, really. “Thanks, dude.”

“Mmhmm,” Hermann says.

But Newt does not take his coffee and leave. Of course—he’ll still want his one-sided game of twenty questions. Part of Hermann thinks Newt has his work schedule tacked up on a bulletin board or calendar somewhere. “You’re Gottlieb, right?” Newt says. “Hermann Gottlieb?”

This is surprising, but unsurprising; if Newt has his work schedule, he would likely have his name too, even if Hermann’s required name tag only says Hermann in very neat cursive. Hermann narrows his eyes anyway. “How do you know my last name?”

“You’re on the course roster for an engineering seminar I’m also in next semester,” Newt says. “I recognized your picture. Are you an engineering major? I was thinking about doing that for one of my majors too, but my advisor didn’t think I’d have enough room for it, so I’m just doing the minor, but that’s still pretty cool, I think. I wonder why we haven’t been in any classes together before now! You’re also a junior, right?”

“Mm,” Hermann says.

“That’s cool,” Newt says. “I’m really excited for the class. Are you? I bet you’re really good at engineering stuff. You seem sooo smart.”

“Mm,” Hermann says.

“I might bother you if I have any questions about the homework for the class or something,” Newt says. “I mean, ha, not bother, you know what I mean. I don’t want to be annoying or anything. But I was just thinking, since you’d probably know what you’re doing. How did you know my name?”

“Mm,” Hermann says, and then shakes his head. He tends to tune Newt out during his visits to the coffee bar. “Er—I beg your pardon?”

“You knew I was named Newt,” Newt says.

“You order the same thing every day,” Hermann repeats.

“Still,” Newt says. “You remembered my name. That’s cool.”

He grins at Hermann, and Hermann, to his supreme mortification, finds himself flushing. He ducks his head and pretends to be interested in restacking a tower of medium hot coffee cups so Newt doesn’t notice. “I’m playing a show with my band this weekend,” Newt offers, peeking at him between two stacks of cups. “That’s why I’m up so late. We just finished practice, and I still have a shit ton of homework to do for tomorrow.”

He’s in a band—of course he is. Hermann supposes that explains the guitar. “Do you like, uh,” Newt waves his hand—which happens to be the one holding his drink—around vaguely, spilling a decent amount of coffee on the floor in the process. He doesn’t seem to notice. Hermann decides to pretend he doesn’t notice either, so he won’t be responsible for cleaning it up. “…Music? And music…bands? Like, live music?”

“I’m not entirely averse to the general concept of music,” Hermann says.

Newt looks embarrassed. He coughs before withdrawing a crumpled flier from a pocket inside his leather jacket. “Um. Okay. Well, if you were interested, this is the show my band is doing,” he says. He hands the flier to Hermann. It’s actually quite charming in its messy simplicity: Newt has either cut the letters out of a magazine and created a sort of collage or messed about on a photo editing software to make it look that way, and the logo (a rabbit of some sort) is clearly hand-drawn and photocopied. “It’s Saturday. At that weird bar off campus with the tie-dye sign. Are you twenty-one yet?” Hermann nods. “Okay, sweet. Then you should be able to get in without a problem. They’ve been kind of annoying to me before, since I’m short and it makes me look younger or whatever, and I guess I technically used a fake ID the first time we tried to do a show there but that was two years ago. I mean—that’s only if you wanted to come.”

The display is a bit pathetic, really, and Newt rushes through his sentences like he can’t get them out fast enough, but it makes Hermann’s mouth twitch into a hint of a smile nonetheless. He folds the flier delicately and slips it into his trouser pocket. Newt perks up with excitement. “I will consider it,” Hermann says. “I may as well, really, since I suppose I haven’t anything else to do this weekend. You play guitar?”

Newt nods frantically. “And sing! And I’m not doing anything else if you wanted to get dinner after my show. Or before.”

“I will consider that as well,” Hermann says. Then— “Actually—yes, we ought to do dinner. That sounds nice.” Well, Hermann thinks, look at this; here he is making friends. Doing the bloody impossible. He doubts Newt’s band will be any good, but it might be nice to have a chat with someone about something other than how many vanilla flavor shots they want in their drink or if they can get the answers for last night’s homework off Hermann. It will certainly be a change of pace. Maybe Hermann will even have someone to sit with at the dining hall. He thinks he could put up with Newt’s chatter if it means he won’t be expected to say anything in return.

“Hey,” Newt says, “can I see that?” He’s pointing at the Sharpie Hermann uses to write names of customers on cups. Hermann hands it over, and Newt uses it to quickly scrawl a series of numbers out on a paper napkin. He slides the napkin to Hermann. “Here’s my phone number,” he says, and Hermann notices—with a twinge of embarrassment—that he’s signed his name (newt!) with a heart and an xoxo. Perhaps Hermann misread the whole, ah, friends thing. Newt all but confirms this when he says, with an even broader grin, “Dude, that was so much easier than I thought it would be. You have noooo idea how long I’ve wanted to ask you out! No offense or anything, but you make really bad coffee, and it’s kinda been killing me.”

Hermann preens very slightly—because Newt, that annoying fellow with the tattoos and guitar and silly revealing trousers, is asking him out, and has wanted to ask him out for a while, and Hermann hasn’t just made a friend, but has gained a potential boyfriend—before the smile slips from his face entirely. “Wait,” he says. “I make...?”

“Yeah, your coffee totally sucks,” Newt says. “See you Saturday!”

He leaves his iced macchiato on the counter.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #Anonymous

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of-toussaint · 2 years

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Notes From Corvo Bianco

Chapter: 2/5

Rating: M (implied/offscreen smut)

Words: 2k (chapter) /5k (total)

Relationships: Regis/Dettlaff/Geralt/Jaskier/Yennefer

Summary: The retired life of Geralt and his family, as told through notes, transcripts, and found correspondences.

(read chapter 2 below, or on AO3)

Formal correspondence found on the desk of the chamberlain of Beauclair Palace:

“To Her Ladyship Anna Henrietta, Duchess of Toussaint, and honored servant of His Highness Emperor Emhyr var Emreis, Deithwen Addan yn Carn aep Morvudd,

It is with the utmost gratitude that I must thank you for the continued hospitality of your lands and people. My time in your duchy has been a delight beyond words. Thus, I would ask to be allowed to partake of the hospitality you have so warmly extended a while longer. I declare to you that my intention is to remain within your lands for the duration of the savaed, in company with messere Geralt and his gracious family.

If it pleases you, perhaps we might meet over a meal and a drink, and discuss matters of trade? The continued partnership between our nations is a matter most dear to my heart, as I am certain it must be to your own. I anticipate your response with eagerness.

Cerys an Craite, Queen of the Skellige Isles”

(a note is attached atop the letter, in a cultured and flowing hand:)

Sebastian,

You needn’t bother equivocating to me. I have known Cerys since we were children, and there is simply no conceiving of her having written this letter. Among other things, she would sooner spit than refer to the Emperor by title. No doubt the penning of it was the toil of some unfortunate scribe—I can only imagine the effort required to wrangle her words into something that might pass for diplomacy. It is of little import. Tell the Queen she is to stay as long as she likes, and that I will gladly consent to share a bottle with her... providing she leaves my palace in the same number of pieces as she finds it.

- Annarietta

Majordomo’s journal:

III Blathe 1277

I must admit that, of the many hazards I anticipated when I was first employed by messere Geralt, duels with foreign nobility were not among that list.

An overabundance of enthusiasm within a group of such vibrant individuals is perhaps to be expected, and I suppose I must only be glad that we ended the night of madama Yennefer’s birthday festivities without any damage more serious than a collapsed fence. And, it must be said, everyone did seem to enjoy themselves tremendously. Though it has been a year since her last visit, the lady Cirilla has slipped effortlessly back into place among us, and of course Queen Cerys is a woman at home wherever she finds herself.

That the revelries evolved into good-spirited competition over the course of the evening would have been a source solely of delight, had the forces brought to bear in a fit of high spirits by messere Regis and madama Yennefer not resulted in a visit from the ducal guard. These good gentlemen had, alas, never had prior opportunity to visit our little enclave. Thus the sight with which they were greeted appears to have rather overwhelmed and agitated them—a situation which was remedied only by their escort under duress from the premises by messere Dettlaff. Under the best of circumstances, he has little tolerance for either strangers or unexpected guests. As it stood, his patience rapidly reached a breaking point and he removed the pair of guards bodily from the vineyard, by means I shudder to put pen to paper to describe. Suffice it to say that I am grateful never to have given him cause to direct his ire at me; it makes for quite an alarming sight.

Aside from these matters, there is little enough to report. I received a response from the workmen in the city today regarding my request for an estimate to have the main bedchamber furniture refitted. My previous instincts were accurate with regards to my lady’s opinions of the furnishings. She has made a series of very particular requests for a second armoire, a few commissioned pieces of art, and, as suspected, a larger bed. She assures me that she has discussed these changes to the extent necessary with the gentlemen of the house, and that, as the work pertains not only to her own comfort but theirs as well, she would be pleased to see it made a priority.

The only other direct contribution to our conversation came in the form of commentary from messere Jaskier. Upon overhearing the exchange, he only added (and here I paraphrase) that he would gladly brave the most cramped of accommodations for the opportunity to sleep by her side.

Were his exact words not quite so ribald, the sentiment would have been almost intolerably sweet.

A letter bearing the ducal seal, addressed from the captain of the guard to the estate of Corvo Bianco:

VII Blathe 1277

“Messere Geralt,

As regards the domestic disturbance reported to the ducal guard on the eve of Belleteyn, please be advised that we have declined to pursue further investigation into the matter. This decision is contingent upon the incident going unrepeated. While it is your prerogative to behave as you see fit on your lands, it must be reiterated that the guard is honor-bound to respond to the complaints of all members of the duchy. This includes your neighbors. We would ask that in any future bouts of dueling (magical, martial, or otherwise), all parties involved strive to limit the incidence and volume of both shouting and explosions. This remains true regardless of the number of foreign dignitaries involved, or the degree of enthusiasm of the provocation offered by any such esteemed personages. With utmost respect intended, of course, to both yourself and Queen an Craite.

In service to Her Enlightened Ladyship,

Damien de la Tour”

A missive on the letterhead of the camerlengo of Beauclair:

“ON BEHALF of Her Grace Anna Henrietta, the duchy of Toussaint requests and requires the services of the Witcher SIR GERALT OF RIVIA, in aid of the removal of a blight from Her lands. Apropos of the recent complaint of a BEAST, which did impart molestation most grave upon the persons of two of Her Ladyship’s ducal guardsmen, Her Ladyship demands that this threat be investigated and rendered harmless. Your humble servant has been authorized to make payment for this noble endeavor, enumerable at FIVE HUNDRED CROWNS.”

Fragment of a reply tucked inside a ledger of accounts in the office of the camerlengo:

“... about the report of the large, batlike creature picking up and carrying off your guardsmen, you can cancel the contract. You have my word that no such creature remains a threat to the area.

And just this once, keep the reward. Consider it a donation to the city.”

A note scrawled in impatient hand, delivered by courier in the small hours of the morning to the private home of the guard-captain:

“Damien. Next time, warn your junior guards what they’re walking into before they come out to the vineyard. It’s not their fault they had to trek out to investigate a noise complaint (I am sorry about that, dammit). It is your fault they didn’t know exactly who lives out here, and panicked at the sight of a vampire and a sorceress doing a little friendly sparring.

You and I both know that Dettlaff could’ve done something far more inconvenient to those men than just flying them back into town and dropping them on the roof of the guardsmen’s barracks. I have reminded him of his oath to stay outside the city limits, and asked the camerlengo to drop the contract.

Train your people. I’d prefer not to do this again.

Geralt.”

Transcript of a conversation overheard outside the pantry:

Malka: … and a queen, too! I’ve never seen so much of royalty.

Ida: (leaning arms on a bucket, into which she allows potato peelings to fall) Nor me. Saw old Foltest once, passing through Maribor. What a parade! (pensive) For all he were such a queer man, we could’ve done worse. Gods rest his soul.

M: Aye. Could’ve done better, though, too. Just think of what life must be like, out on the Isles. With a woman like that at the fore!

I: And the Princess at her side. They do make quite the match, don’t they? Gods, how they dote on each other. To have someone like that!

M: Seems Ettore dotes on you like that plenty, as though it’d somehow escaped your notice.

I: (grinning) He’s no highborn lady, but he does all right. Suppose I’ve no complaints.

M: Out training in the courtyard again this morning, they were. Lovey eyes at each other even over top o’ their swords.

I: (snorts) No wonders about where the lady Cirilla learned that one. She might not have his blood, but she has more than a little of the witcher about her.

M: (giggling) Oh, they’re of a pair, that’s certain. Father and daughter, just alike.

I: I tell you, Malks, the ladies being here has been a boon and no mistake. Even for all the commotion. The smiles on them all. Never seen the whole lot of them so pleased as these past weeks.

M: (lowering her voice) I saw madama laugh the other day. Laugh! Nothing coy about it, none of her usual reserve. Smiled, too, with all her teeth. When I tell you I nearly died of shock on the spot.

I: A boon, Malks. Keep a secret?

M: (delighted) To my grave! What d’you have?

I: Well, as it happens I was bringing in the washing t’other afternoon with Jean and Eto.

M: I recall. You spent all morning doing everybody’s linens. Mum says to thank you, by the by, that being a real help to her.

I: She’s welcome as ever to pay me back with dinner. But to the point, getting all that cloth back indoors took a right age. There was so much of it! Even the lads were struggling with their baskets. And then, neat as you please, who should sidle up to us and take up the spare bundles but the Queen herself?

M: (laughing) Truly?

I: On me da’s headstone. Simply strolled along beside us and wouldn’t accept a word to the contrary. She said when you see a task needs a hand lent to it, you lend that hand, whether it be your task or not.

M: Now that’s a Queen.

I: That’s what I thought! But that isn’t the secret.

M: Go on, then.

I: While we were walking, Jean—the twit—let it slip that we play cards a’nights, out in the loft. I didn’t think much on it at the time, but last night we was out there playing and guess who turned up at full dark, bottle in hand and a grin on her face like a fox in a henhouse?

M: (staring, openmouthed) She didn’t.

I: Oh, but she very much did. Cleaned Jean out of ten crowns, because that man was born without a speck of sense in his fool head. Malka, it was the most fun we’ve had in ages. Said she’d be back out tonight, with her lady-love in tow.

M: In all my days, Ida, I would never have pictured it. Sitting at table being beaten at cards by royalty.

I: You needn’t simply picture it. Join us tonight.

M: You know? I think I just may.

An unsigned letter, the parchment stained in one corner by what looks suspiciously like blood:

XXI Blathe 1277

“Wolf. Been a while.

Hear you’re still doing well for yourself down there in the South, so clear a patch of floor for a couple of bedrolls. We’ll be passing your way in just under a week. Lambert thinks it’s high time we availed ourselves of your hospitality (and your kitchen), and his lady friend seems to be in agreement. I’m due to meet up with them soon on the Cintran border, and then we’re riding for you. Hope you’re in the mood for houseguests. The last couple of jobs have treated me well... so I think we deserve to put our feet up for a spell.

E.”

One of several identical announcements in the topmost post bag, delivered from the palace and addressed to the local nobility:

XXXI Blathe 1277

"ON BEHALF of Her Gracious Ladyship Annarietta, you are cordially invited to the Palace of Beauclair to celebrate the eve of Midaëte. A feast will be held in honor of the Queen of Skellige, to close her stay in our fair lands and wish her safe roads and swift winds on her travels home. Festivities to commence at sundown. Formal attire, suitable for dancing, is requested.”

#geralt of rivia #jaskier #yennefer of vengerberg #dettlaff van der eretein #emiel regis #the witcher #witcher 3 #fanfic #cirilla of cintra #cerys an craite

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probablyevilrpgideas · 2 years

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Saw this on Reddit when I was googling to see what deeper lore, or more varieties of Inevitables I could come up with for a character backstory.

Iunno if 5e uses Inevitables, but, basically, Inevitables are ...kinda cosmic justice robots. They come from Mechanus/whatever place represents Lawful Neutrality in a given setting, they're constructs, and there are a handful of canon types who each are tasked with enforcing law in some way. Zelekhuts enforce literal justice, think bounty hunters, maruts enforce the law that everything dies, there are inevitables who enforce causality and the sanctity of divinity, and the Kolyarut exists to punish those who break oaths and agreements.

Here's what the 3.5 SRD says about Kolyaruts-

Kolyaruts mete out punishment to those who break bargains and oaths.

Before beginning a mission against a deal-breaker, a kolyarut learns as much about the contract or oath as possible. It’s not interested in those who break deals accidentally or against their will— only those who willingly break contracts violate the principle that kolyaruts are created to uphold. If a written contract was broken, the kolyarut typically carries a copy of the contract with it.

Kolyaruts are the most talkative of the inevitables, making credible attempts at social niceties such as proper greetings before getting down to the matter at hand. They can use disguise self to appear as almost any kind of humanoid—useful if they need to go undercover to catch their quarry.

So.

First of all, the Reddit OP's "friends" are dicks. They would be fully justified in flipping them the double deuces and giving them a huge stink eye as they walk backwards out the door.

But, assuming someone were to find themselves in this position (and contrary to what some responders on the reddit post claim, wish can in fact force someone to agree to a deal, that's just duplicating the effects of dominate person), ...well, honestly, they should probably just leave, because that DM is not being reasonable, so it will come down to the PC fighting something seven levels above them.

*BUT*, assuming a reasonable DM, this could be a really interesting plot, assuming everyone was on board in the interest of telling cool stories.

Here's what we know-

-OP's character was magically compelled to accept a bad deal.

-Despite that compulsion, somehow, they broke the oath, and now a Kolyarut is on their trail.

-Kolyaruts, despite being, basically, contract lawyers from Hell, or perhaps because they are basically actually extreme contract lawyers, they are interested in having as complete a picture of the circumstances of the broken oath as possible.

-Kolyaruts are not interested in enforcing people who broke an oath against their own will, or otherwise did not voluntarily break their oath.

So, the thing for the player to do would be to reason with the kolyarut. This is an interesting case that will come down to judgement, because, technically, it seems, the PC broke the oath voluntarily. But they didn't make it voluntarily.

In real law, so far as I'm aware, generally, a contract signed, or oath sworn, under duress is considered void, invalid. It's going to vary by locality, but I believe that's fairly universal.

Of course, D&D doesn't necessarily operate on real law standards. But absent a DM telling you how the law, and especially cosmic ideals of law, work in their setting, it's a basis to work from.

Therefore, what the PC should do is, basically, sit and wait for the kolyarut to come to them, and then present the case that they were forced to make that oath. In real law, it is incumbent on the person who breached contract/oath that they were under duress when it was made. The PC would want to have some kind of evidence that they were magically compelled. They may only have witnesses, and those witnesses are probably just the other PCs involved, meaning they won't want to give honest testimony.

Unfortunately, kolyaruts cannot use zone of truth or the like, but they can use mark of justice. It would be reasonable for the kolyarut to put a mark of justice on the witnesses, with the trigger being "providing false witness when I ask you for testimony." This won't prevent the witnesses from lying, but it will cause them to suffer a bestow curse effect if they give false testimony, the kolyarut would know it triggered, and therefore, the kolyarut will know the witnesses gave false testimony. There is a slight problem here that a kolyarut can only use mark of justice once per day, which means multiple witnesses would need be handled over multiple days, but, eh, that's fine.

Now, this is where judgement comes in. By the SRD description of the kolyarut, they only disregard oaths that were broken unwillingly, not made. But, honestly, if people can be held to binding contracts and oaths made under duress, then the entire idea of lawful contracts falls apart, and therefore, personally, I feel a kolyarut, provided with compelling evidence that an oath was made under duress, would abandon their pursuit of the one who broke it. I also feel that the kolyarut would then consult with whoever the superiors of inevitables are about whether those who coerce others into making oaths are under their purpose's jurisdiction--and then show up again pursuing the person who made the wish and the one who took advantage of it. Possibly one or two zelekhuts in tow.

(now, I also wouldn't have this happen between PCs. The wisher and the one who took advantage of it would be recurring NPCs, but...)

#D&D #Dungeons and Dragons #Inevitables #DM Shop

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thesinpolice · 3 years

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we're finally in london, b

fryecest: CROOKED HEARTBEAT, pt.VI

first time here? start from the beginning

word count - 3.304

total word count - 13.419

‘I arrived at Sir David's laboratory too late to recover the Piece of Eden. I did not get a good look at it, but he had it hooked up to some sort of machine, which exploded under duress.’

Evie wrote into her notebook absent-mindedly, never failing to document any and all information on anything Assassin-related she deemed important.

‘For his part, Jacob believes I found some ancient pottery that cracked when exposed to an electrical charge. Ancient pottery! Unfortunately for me, the subsequent explosion of the laboratory means that I cannot disprove the hypothesis.’

He carefully studied her expression as the candlelight gently bounced around the soft features of her face, the way she scrunched her nose as she concentrated, the way her brows pulled together, lips pursed, every detail, every inch of her, he tried to burn into his memory as if in fear that any moment spent with her could be his last.

‘If we had timed our mission even a few hours sooner, I would be holding the proof in my hands even now! But I know what I saw.’

“We didn’t pack.” He stated plainly, standing up from one of the beds brandishing their modest hotel room.

His gaze travelled from her lips as he approached her, along the arch of her jawline, down her neck, as he observed the tenseness in her muscles all the way down to her hands, he couldn’t miss the slight pause of her fingers before she hastily resumed her writing, pointedly ignoring his words.

‘I also had the opportunity to observe the famed Miss Lucy Thorne. She was more interested in speedy results than the actual object they'd found. I suppose it is to be expected of a Templar that she would focus more on gaining power than gaining information. Still, she does not seem to be a woman to be trifled with. I'll need to proceed carefully.’

Afraid to look away, it was as though Jacob feared she might just up and vanish were he to look elsewhere. The amount of times she graced his drunken dreams, only for him to be cruelly awoken into his lonely, miserable reality had been one too many in the past month.

“Hmpf.” He grunted, trying to garner her attention yet again, hands now placed on the edge of the table she was sitting at.

‘If what Sir David told me as he died is true, Miss Thorne is either in possession of another Piece of Eden or knows where one is. Jacob and I-‘

“Real mature.” Was her only comment, arms crossed defensively as she stared down her brother, the latter brandishing his signature smirk.

“I said, we didn’t get the chance to pack.”

He played with the stolen notebook, swaying it in front of her, his mind toying with the idea of opening it and reading its contents out of mere boredom and curiosity.

“Yes, we did not.” Evie heavily exhaled.

Making no intention to obtain the taken item, Jacob dared to flip the pages, as if to challenge her, only to be met with an apathetic expression.

He rolled his eyes. “Meaning you still carry this damn notebook with you everywhere you go.” He mocked, recalling all the times he’d see her carrying it around, never letting it out of her sight. He teased her then, when they were mere children, and he’d tease her still. Jacob was never the studious type anyway. And he’d deny it to himself if he said he didn’t enjoy seeing her cheeks turn red in embarrassment either.

“Writing things down is smart. You should try it sometime. Maybe you’re actually not such an idiot under all that forgetfulness.” She prodded, tone annoyed though carrying a familiar hint of playfulness.

Hands still crossed over her chest, she remained seated, answering his provocation with a pointed stare.

“You wound me, dear sister.” His tone purposefully theatric, he held her gaze, a moment too long as his sister ended up being the one to look away, awkwardly biting her lip.

He shook his head in silence, eyes studying the written words. “’Jacob and I’ what hmm?” The sentence had gone unfinished, an ugly speck of ink laying on the empty page underneath her latest entry. She merely scoffed, rolling her eyes.

“Whatever you hope to find - it’s not there. I told you a thousand times before, this isn’t a diary.”

Jacob paused, catching her gaze. “Are you done? Can I have it back?” Looking away, she merely extended a hand, avoiding his wandering eyes.

“No.”

“Stop acting like a child. Give it back please.”

“I do like being the centre of your attention.”

“Jacob!” She seethed, in a moment of annoyance and anger, her tired state did nothing to aid her critical thinking, as Evie stood up and marched towards him. Jacob looked at her intently as he let her back him against the wall on the opposite side of the room.

She grunted, searching his eyes as he merely raised his hands as though he’d just been caught by the police, trying to do his best to look as pointedly innocent as he could.

Evie snatched the stolen object from his hand, though at that point they’d been standing so close she could swear she could hear the pounding of her brother’s heart. In a split second of hesitation she choked, as his eyes jumped down to her lips, and almost instinctively, so did hers to his, making her jump away feeling as though for a second, she couldn’t breathe.

She meant to yell at him, feeling like he did that on purpose, to provoke her, whatever it was, but his words caught her by surprise.

“Well, I’m going to… leave.” Jacob broke the sudden silence, voice hoarse. “It’s the middle of the night?” She found herself protesting, though unable to look him in the eye, her voice was laced with abrupt panicked worry.

“It’s been a long day…” His tone was strained, voice not really making sense as he looked her over, once, twice, though she refused to face him still.

“Please don’t leave me again.”

Her voice was but a whisper, hands balled into fists as her exhausted brain worked in overdrive. She watched him leave once, and she wouldn’t – couldn’t – do it again. Not after she finally got him back after so long. She told him to leave then and she wouldn’t do it again. Or, couldn’t find it in herself to.

He exhaled, his shoulders slouched as he bridged the gap between them and enveloped her in a tight embrace without a second thought.

And she relished in it, the anger in her dissipating just as quickly as it appeared, she returned the hug with equal intense emotion.

“I missed you so much. I don’t want to be alone again.” She managed to squeeze out, feeling as though her lungs were unable to catch air. “Evie… I missed you more.”

It was the year of 1868 when the Frye twins first set foot in the big city of London, more precisely, the borough of Whitechapel. The ghost of the great Industrial Revolution clung it's poisonous claws into all of its inhabitants, the most afflicted being Whitechapel itself. With a shadow from the past casted over the poor and chaos inflicted district, many people, desperate for a better chance at life, resorted to thievery, begging, murder and even prostitution.

"I've never seen so many people at once." Jacob's admiring eyes, almost intimidated, flew across the tall buildings and crowds of people running around. "'The churning seas of London.'" Evie quoted as the twins stepped onto the lively London streets. "It's just as Father described." She couldn't help but admit it to herself that despite her fears, she was content with her decision to come to London. It would take time, but she was sure they could accomplish their goal. With Jacob by her side, she felt like everything was possible.

"Now, to find Henry Green and formulate a plan of attack against the Templars." Evie reminded with a stern voice, though the same curiosity and excitement that lit her brother's eyes rose inside her as well.

"Hm." He grunted, his brows furrowing in deep thought. "Who’s Mister Green again?”

Evie frowned in response. “The Assassin watching over London. Did you not listen the first three times?” She scoffed, though Jacob seemed to have no retort. She’d been babbling all morning, but all he could think about was the way she looked at him before she retrieved the notebook from his hands.

She laughed, giggled almost, at the way he seemed to completely lose himself in his thoughts. “Jacob.” She lightly punched his shoulder. “I’ve always been the quicker climber, haven’t I?”

“Not since we were two.” He smirked, waking up from his fantasies as he looked at her from the corner of his eye.

“Race you to the highest vantage point!”

And with that, she was gone, already running through the crowd with intense speed, trying to locate the best opportunity to ascend.

And so she did, with her brother hot on her heels as they climbed, higher and higher, further and further, onto the rooftop of the nearby factory. Jacob lagged behind, his steps rigid and chopped, unfocused, as his eyes followed her elegant movements, the gentle smile on her lips, the rosy flush in her cheeks that, unbeknownst to him, mirrored his.

“Ha!” She exclaimed her victory, letting out a carefree laugh as adrenaline filled her veins. He was enamoured by her, completely taken off guard by her blithe visage, the liveliness to her stance, as he was unable to pay attention to anything but her.

Their chests heaved as he caught her gaze, completely speechless. Like she had done a complete turn around, from the tired, stressed woman standing before him a mere day ago, the stark contrast in the person standing before him now was abrupt – though in all the right ways.

And Jacob felt the same too, having held her in his arms for the first time in so long, having slept in the same room, despite his subconscious fears, knowing she’d be there when he wakes up was enough to breathe life back into him.

“You must be the Frye twins.”

They jumped, the voice of the new arrival a sharpness that cut through the air around them. “And you are...?” Evie spun on her heels, the warm tension dissipating as they both faced the gentleman standing in front of them.

“Henry Green, at your service. I was sorry to learn about your Father's passing.”

Evie could swear she felt the temperature drop, if judging by the mere way Jacob looked at the young man… who was intently looking at her.

“Thank you...” She mumbled, feeling, dare she say, enchanted by his politeness and respectful manner, the way he looked at her, how he carried himself in huge contrast with, well, anything Jacob ever did.

“What can you tell us about Crawford Starrick?” Jacob’s bitterness cut through them, the strained tone in his voice an obvious indication of his sudden irritation, as his gaze finally moved from his sister towards the new face.

“I suppose the Council desires news?” The twins looked at each other awkwardly, Evie mumbled a half-assed heroic comment about the liberation of London, hoping more than anything the Assassin standing in front of them wouldn’t bat an eye at their unannounced arrival. Or write to George about it, for that matter. Though he was bound to find out sooner rather than later anyway.

A worry she’d save for another time. And why was she comparing Henry to Jacob anyway?

Henry aimed to update them on the horrific state of London’s inhabitants, the future certainly painted bleak. Jacob studied the sea of people beneath them, the familiar red coats apparent of the truth in the Assassin’s words. Evie tried her best to look determined yet surprised, even though she’d already read those same concerns in the stolen letter addressed to George.

“I've always thought of myself as a gang leader.” Jacob spoke nonchalantly. The more he looked, rather, the more he saw, the more sure he was that a venture like that could perhaps be worth his time. “Firm, but fair. We'll have uniforms. And I'll unite a mix of disenfranchised outsiders under one name. That's it, Evie! We can rally them to our side.” Couldn’t sound more ridiculous if he tried, if judged by how Evie looked at him, but… Perhaps, if he played his cards right.

“Oh, like the way that you rallied those card players at the Oakbrook Tavern into the river?” In turn, her voice was laced with equal surprise, playfulness and yet, utter disbelief. Her gaze jumped from her brother to Henry, a hint of embarrassment creeping up her cheeks, as though she feared the impression they’d leave on the older Assassin with Jacob’s odd tantrums.

“That was different, they beat me at whist. I can see it now! We'll call ourselves the Rooks.” He exclaimed, hands raised theatrically.

“You were never good at chess, either.”

Henry stood there awkwardly, unsure of what to say as the siblings bickered in front of him.

“Have you got a better plan?” Jacob’s brows furrowed in challenge, seeing the flickering of her eyes, which did nothing but provoke him. “Find the Piece of Eden.” She stated plainly, the disbelief in her face mirrored onto her brother’s almost perfectly. The idea of having his own gang didn’t seem so far-fetched if his sister’s only viable plan was finding an ancient artifact.

Henry broke through their dialogue with a simple offer of showing them around.

Well rested, Evie threw herself at the task at hand, trying to think away the troubles that hung between her brother and herself. She listened intently, thankful for the distraction, and drank up any information Henry provided them with, trying to be as prepared as she could possibly be for whatever the future might throw at them.

Jacob on the other hand didn’t pay much attention, his mind going a mile a minute as he visualised how he’d make Rooks his reality. Whatever Henry said went in one ear and out the other, or the majority at least.

"You know, if it were up to me, we'd be out there, bringing the fight to Starrick's doorstep." Jacob pulled on Evie’s hand, falling in step with her, pointedly putting visible space between them and one Mister Green. His voice was unruffled as his fingers pointed towards the endless streets of London. "Not sitting around, chit-chatting about it all day long." Brushing his hand through his hair, his eyes glanced to his sister.

"And that is why you are not in charge." She was only half paying attention, pulling away to present Henry some more inquiries from her endless ocean of questions about certain arcane research.

"We'll see who's in charge after I kill Starrick and George appoints me a Master Assassin." He gently nudged her shoulder with a smirk, desperately intended to keep her attention on him any way he could. "George would do nothing of the sort. Whatever would be left of the Creed would perish under your control." She caught his surprised eyes and gave him a smirk, just like the one he gave her so many times before.

"Harsh words, dear sister."

The two Assassins followed Henry as he stepped into the cosy Curiosity Shop, Mr. Green's main operative base in London, appearing like a small souvenir place. Jacob was not impressed by the shop's aesthetics, while Evie seemed excited to be there.

“Can we get to the point?” Jacob said through his teeth. Evie's death glare was enough for him to control his already prepared spiteful words. There was something about Henry that clearly bothered him immensely. And having to follow them around like a puppy, forced to listen to their chit-chatting about the damn Piece of Eden did him no good either. Or the way Evie went all soft around Henry either, for that matter.

Clear, that there was not a single ounce of friendliness for Henry from the younger twin, Mr. Green turned to his books. "Well, I suppose we'll talk about your Piece of Eden some other time then." He nodded to Evie.

Jacob didn’t fail to notice the saddened slouch in her shoulders as soon as Henry uttered the words, his hands balling into fists. Dealing with whatever was happening between them was strenuous enough, but what Jacob never foresaw coming was competition of the romantic kind. Especially not one presented in such contrast to how he carried himself and clearly already liked by the very person of his interest.

What was his thought back then?

It was as though the universe was laughing at him.

In all its irony, it truly seemed like it was.

“Who are all these people?” Evie asked, breaking through the cloud forming over his head. “Over the years, I have established a number of connections across the city.”

Henry pulled up various sketches, different people he deemed of interest to aid their common goal. It was almost as though he had been preparing for Assassins to come to his aid for quite some time.

“Splendid! We'll need focused aid-“

“Focused aid? Pf. We take over Starrick's gangs, we cripple his control.” He cut her off, brushing her ideas aside.

“You're not aiming high enough. Starrick has influence in every branch of society, we need to match him.” Evie turned Henry's attention to her, much to Jacob's dislike.

“I see what you're saying, Evie. We need the Rooks.” He prodded as he grabbed her shoulder, fully intending to irritate her further. “You are not starting a gang called the Rooks.” She hissed, wanting to shut down her brother's words, that seemed like one of his momentary reckless attempts at a decent plan. Meticulous as she was when it came to her missions, she wouldn’t give the thought of Jacob being an actual gang leader a second thought.

"I believe I might have an idea of my own." Henry stepped in, his hands signalling for them to calm down. He waved them over and showed them the sketches and books he put on the counter.

He explained his plan as if he had rehearsed it many times before. Important alliances, influential people, high-profile targets, anything that could be of help, and Evie made a mental note of every single one of Henry’s tips, cherished his advice and remained of the opinion that proceeding carefully is of their best interest.

Her brother of course, was not of the same opinion, the determination to from a gang to fight Starrick’s Bligthers already fully formed in his mind.

The only thing that grabbed his attention was the mention of Clinkers – a small group of people opposing the red coats. It was as good start as any to make his Rooks a reality.

Well, that and one fellow named Rexford Kaylock.

"Just be cautious. It's rough out there." Henry said calmly, his attention back on his books. "Oh, don't worry about me Greenie. I can handle a few thugs." He threw a glare at the man, ignoring the one Evie was aiming at him.

“Excuse my brother.” She fumbled with her words as Jacob merely spun on his feet, intending to leave the confined space, leaving the two in awkward silence.

He was set on a goal. He got his target. And that was all he needed, lest Henry’s skull would be the one he crushed instead. Just as he thought things might make a turn for the better, just as they stepped into the right direction, Henry came and took them five steps backwards. Back to fighting, to disagreeing, to falling out.

credit: evie's first notebook entry, meeting henry green & the in-game description of whitechapel

read pt.VII here

|| this fanfiction was written by me. you can also read it here, if you prefer. ||

#assassinscreed #assassins creed #assassinscreedsyndicate #ac syndicate #fanfic #fanfiction #assassin's creed #assassin's creed fanfiction #jacob frye #evie frye #frye twins #fryecest #jacob x evie #crookedheartbeat

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consumedkings-archive · 3 years

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🌲🌼💦 for Arden, Isolde, Helmi, Santi, and Varya please ☺️💜

LICI thank u for spoiling me as u have done always!!!!! so happy to share the bebes with u <3 partially under the cut for length & eds, infertility, prev trauma etc!

i am breaking this up into two parts because it is SO MANY my love for u is endless lici

soft oc asks!

🌲 how deeply does your oc feel? are they typically empathetic or do they have a hard time connecting with others in this way? what are they like when offering support and comfort to someone they care for?

this one is a bit of a tricky one! ade's brain tends to run on different frequencies a lot; things that most people would consider important are often written off as non-crucial and left to the wayside to leave room in her brain for what she thinks is "need-to-know". that being said, arden is exceptionally perceptive! she spends a lot of time reading people and seeing people and gauging their reactions, so even though something she says might come across as callous or unfeleing, rest assured she is cataloguing someone's response to it all the same. i think she can be empathetic, a lot of the time, but almost exclusively for the people that she has tabbed or bookmarked as "important" in her brain--and that number is quite small.

when it comes to comforting those few folks who make it through the 9 circles of hell layers of vetting her brain does to prioritize information, ade tries her hardest to be a place of safety. more than anything, she thinks it's important that people have that--a place of no judgment, a place where someone can listen. all of those people watching skills kick in full force and use when someone she loves is under duress. that being said, she's still going to be painfully straightforward, but that's better than not being listened to at all!

🌼 who are this character's friends and found family? how did they meet, how long have they been friends for, could they ever be something more than just friends? what do they look for in a friend or a romantic partner?

arden's friends tend to be few and far between. not for any reason other than that the woman is just plain busy. if she's not at work at the clinic, she's going to (or sometimes hosting) virtual and in-person lectures, working on her third degree, spending time with her dogs. she's got a lot on her plate and that doesn't leave a lot of room for friends. i wouldn't even go so far as to say that arden is really friends with any of jacob's siblings, except for maybe faith; joseph she regards as a hard-to-measure variable, and john--in the gentlest way possible--she almost never thinks about at all.

pre-reaping, i would say the closest person she had to a friend that wasn't jacob would have been either dutch or sharky. dutch, because they just vibe, and sharky because the man is such a lovable idiot, how could you not? the amount of times sharky would ask her about medical issues or injuries he'd sustained and she'd have to remind him she's an "animal doctor" are boundless.

💦 if you as the writer could erase one traumatic event from this oc’s life what would it be and why?

definitely would be the years that arden spent battling her eating disorder. if not for the grief it caused her, also because the extensive amount of damage it did and the resulting infertility. as fun as it is for arden to "schedule" sex with jacob for when she's "most fertile" (lmao), the infertility treatments are painful and each time she realizes it didn't take is another blow to her emotions.

isolde would like to say that she feels nothing at all, at any point in time, unless she absolutely wants to, but we all know that's wrong. girlfriend has GOT to be in control of literally anything she is involved with and this is because she has pretty potent emotions. i would say, though, that soli is quite adept at keeping herself in check when it comes to anything that isn't like, telling john to eat shit. she doesn't like getting rattled. in that vein i think she has a hard time connecting with people who openly wear their emotions--she struggles to do that so it's hard for her to empathize with that. and boy HOWDY is this girl UNCOMFY!!! when someone confides in her or needs comforting. lmao.

you know, soli is actually on really good terms with her family. her parents are in love, and loving; her sister is her best friend in every sense of the word. even though isolde works hard to keep people at arm's length, i think she's (begrudgingly) a loving person and that means that by proximity she ends up making friends. also, she would argue that she's quite hilarious and thus everyone should want to be her friend! outside of her family i think she's closest with john and jacob, even over joseph--john, because they went to uni together and business together and she made him get clean before he went back to hope county, and jacob because they just vibe well. they have an understanding and they get each other's sense of humor. unfortunately for john, isolde would not fuck him if someone offered her a million dollars.

@vasiktomis is convinced jacob and isolde want to bang it out i will leave that up for speculation

💦 if you as the writer could erase one traumatic event from this oc’s life what would it be and why?

this kind of goes without saying but you know, her entire marriage with alec. not even specifically like, the parts of them where he put his hands on her--but the emotional duress of the entire thing. dragging his ass through court. smashing his face with a face. taking him for half of his networth. but mostly, explaining to her parents that the man she'd been with for almost 15 years had been getting physical with her almost the entire time.

#ask games #ch: isolde khan #ch: arden hale #far cry 5 oc #fc5 oc #1love1hope #LICI I LOVE U #I JUST WANT TO MAKE SURE I DON'T LOSE THIS POST FOREVER BY BREAKING IT UP LOL #ash.txt

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texaslawinformation · 5 years

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Non-Marital Conjugal Cohabitation Agreements for the Unmarried Couple in Texas

If you have need a best Law service, You can get better suggestions from Non-Marital Conjugal Cohabitation Agreements for the Unmarried Couple in Texas with the great process!c

Houston Family Law Lawyers: Over the past 6 months, I have met with several potential clients who decided to make some major financial decisions with their boyfriend or girlfriend and unfortunately the relationship did not work out.

In one case I met with a lady who she and her boyfriend had purchased a house and had a child together. Both were named on the deed. In that case, the boyfriend was refusing to help support the child or contribute to any bills related to the house. He was very happy letting his girlfriend support him while he sat at home playing video games. The woman I met with wanted out and wanted to get some orders regarding the child.

In another case a woman again purchased a house with her boyfriend, however, in that case, she was not listed on the deed but had contributed a large amount of money to the house. In this case, he kicked her out of the house and told her not to come back and that she would not see a penny of the money she had paid to the purchase of the house.

In both cases, I hoped that there would be enough evidence to support a claim of common law marriage. If there was a common-law marriage that would be the easiest way to untangle the couple from each other financially and otherwise. Unfortunately, aside from them having lived together, there was no other evidence. Both women were adamant in that they had never intended to be married and had never held out to anyone that they were married.

This was disappointing because it meant that things would be more complicated and expensive if we were going to be able to help. Her situation is one the reasons divorce exists. However, divorce is not available to unmarried couples.

In the first scenario, we would be able to help get orders in place in regards to the child. The woman was also protected because she was on the deed however we would have to bring a separate lawsuit in regards to that property. In the second scenario, the woman might be out of luck all together we would have to dig in deeper to see what we could do.

What rights do unmarried couples have?

Both women wanted to know doesn’t living together provide them with any sort of rights or protection? In short, the answer is no.

This is especially true with respect to property acquired during a relationship. Marital property laws and other family laws were designed to protect married couples and do not apply to unmarried couples. This is true no matter how long the relationship was.

Palimony is not a legal concept. Rather, it is a popular term used to describe the division of property or periodic support payments paid to one partner in an unmarried couple by the other after the couple breaks up.

The Texas Family Code does not provide for "palimony.” This means you cannot gain rights under the Texas Family Code because you lived with someone absent a valid marriage.

Can an unmarried couple establish rights as a couple?

However, it is possible to draft an agreement which might provide for some of the things that could be obtained with a valid marriage.

The Texas Family Code Section 1.08 states that:

“A promise or agreement made on consideration of marriage or nonmarital conjugal cohabitation is not enforceable unless the promise or agreement or a memorandum of the promise or agreement is in writing and signed by the person obligated by the promise or agreement.”

The Texas Business Code, allows parties to enter agreements in consideration of "nonmarital conjugal cohabitation". To be enforceable, these contracts or agreements must be:

> in writing and > signed by those who are affected by the agreement.

The Texas Legislature specifically stated that this provision was enacted to curb the number of palimony cases entering the family courts.

Oral agreements will likely not be upheld. At least one court has held that an oral agreement is not enforceable, Zaremba v. Cilburn.

Why a Cohabitation Agreement Maybe a Good Idea

Family Law Attorneys Houston: As illustrated in the two examples I gave above when you are living with someone else and are NOT planning to be married sometimes lines blur and the couple starts making financial decisions as if they were married.

Then if the relationship does not work out the couple is left with questions regarding who is responsible for any joint debts and who owns the assets. If not careful someone might be significantly hurt financially.

The problem is partly because the characterization of property acquired by unmarried cohabitants is less clear than that of married couples. Married couple’s ownership of property is governed by marital and community property laws.

Under community property laws it does not matter whose name is on the property in most cases it is still owned by both parties in the marital relationship. This is not true for an unmarried couple.

One solution is a written cohabitation agreement that is signed and meets all the formalities of a regular contract. A cohabitation agreement allows an unmarried couple to legally spell out their rights and obligations toward each other.

Cohabitation agreements can be useful when:

> one of the parties dies > if the cohabitants decide to end their relationship > in governing the affairs of the couple while living together

Generally, a cohabitation can be used to:

> State the couple is not married and should not be considered married > How expenses are to be paid > Who is responsible for what during the living arrangement? > Who pays the lease or the mortgage? > Will the couple share any financial accounts such as a joint checking account? > Identifies assets and debts, and who owns them > What property is separate property or jointly owned? > how the property will be distributed, should the couple split up > Support Payments

What about Medical Decisions and Estate Planning?

Couples also sometimes have concerns regarding estate planning and medical care. Generally, someone who lives with another is not considered an heir under the law and they do not have any rights to make medical decisions the way a legal spouse would.

If this is a concern, then you may want to consider in addition to a cohabitation agreement obtaining:

> estate planning and > power of attorneys

Defenses to Cohabitation Agreements

Family Lawyers in Houston: The defenses to cohabitation agreements are those available under general contract law rather than the limited defenses available against premarital and postmarital agreements under the Family Code.

Common law defenses include:

> fraud, > repudiation, > duress, > mistake, > unconscionability and > ratification.

If you are considering moving in together with your Paramore or loved one, then you should think seriously about entering into a cohabitation agreement to protect yourself and eliminate uncertainty regarding your rights and duties to each other. A cohabitation can also provide a measure of security in the event the relationship terminates ... Continue Reading

#divorce #Divorce Attorney #family #Family Law #attorney #attorneys #law #lawyer #lawyers #Houston #Texas

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mild-lunacy · 5 years

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Between the Rational, the Good and the Sentimental

Have you noticed how many times the 'good' character (often the female) is portrayed as 'good' by way of making irrational choices that seem selfless? That is to say, for ex., we have no resources to spare, but let's share them anyway! It's the right thing to do, so surely a good, rational person would want to do it, even if it puts everyone else's survival more at risk. Or, the oldie but goodie: we can save the world/the lives of hundreds or thousands later, or we can save these people right in front of us now. Guess which one 'good' people are inevitably drawn to? Regardless of which choice is made, you're clearly supposed to be very tempted to just rescue the first person who needs it, even or especially in an extreme, apocalyptic situation where all resources are limited. Which is fine. Maybe it's how most well-meaning people are, even. It just extra annoys me when this attitude is applied equally to rational/intellectual characters as to the bold, idealistic or naive ones. Like to do otherwise would be to go into 'gritty dark' territory rather than basic realism for rational thinking people's behavior.

Not like I'm against helping others, or disagree that being 'good' means acting out of concern for them, though I do believe that it should be a balance between selflessness and selfish behavior in a realistic character. You don't have to stop being rational to be good, though, even though that's usually what happens. The character inevitably suspends their critical thinking skills and rushes off half-cocked in honor of some ideal. Impulsivity and bravado is pretty much par the course for Gryffindors, for example, while the more rational types in Ravenclaw or Slytherin stay on the sidelines and barely seem to contribute (if the Slytherins aren't actually fighting the heroes). Any sort of calculation happening where other people's lives are on the line is overwhelmingly considered suspicious. This is fine-- it's just annoying how this translates into inevitable unrealistic breaks in the established persona for rational character types. I mean, a tendency towards calculation isn't really something that just... turns off when important or emotionally weighty decisions are to be made. Quite the opposite: we can know the things that drive a given character by how they make difficult decisions. If a person is primarily driven by rational thought, it would be *most* obvious under duress.

Inevitably, I believe part of this is genre, part gender. For example, I consider Sherlock (at least, in BBC Sherlock) to be both rational and good, but he certainly doesn't generally rush in without a plan where fools fear to tread. This is a somewhat Noir mystery with the protagonist's unsentimentality a huge part of the plot, though. Part of this is probably gender-related, too. A male rational type character could get away with a lot more insensitive behavior-- especially Sherlock, who gets extra leeway as an eccentric genius. Inevitably, it's the female character who's going to bring up doing the sentimental 'good' thing, such as rescuing extra people that could not be supported on a ship. With Sherlock, there was John to poke him about being 'a machine', but I'm not sure John wanted Sherlock to do anything irrational. Though I suppose you could argue that checking on Mrs. Hudson in TRF was irrational, since Sherlock knew this was a diversion and she was fine. However, I believe John wouldn't have left if Sherlock told him so. It is in part because Sherlock kept so many of his plans (let alone his feelings) to himself that John defaulted to acting on instinct.

I think what annoys me most is the seeming knee-jerk nature behind the sentimentality of female characters, especially the rational ones. It inevitably throws me out of the story and makes me wonder why this is always so. I also think this about how goodness and/or ethical behavior is widely perceived, and/or how it's gendered. A lot of books have ethics depicted as being about a sort of mindless selflessness. The only reason for selfishness usually present in women (outside of villains) is self-preservation, if then. I particularly think selflessness is gendered, because even in the most naive good guy character, I've never seen one who so *instinctively* cares for others without a care for himself as your average 'good' female protagonist, especially while blaming himself for others' issues. It just doesn't happen. I find it annoying, and it turns maddening when it appears male characters have room to be selfish or rational-- or both-- while remaining fundamentally good.

Even the 'not-so-good' or bitchy female protagonist will generally succumb to the writer's need to show goodness through sentimentality, though it may not be as overt. Like I said, this also depends on genre. In a more action-centric or literary narrative and/or one that's not written by a woman to start with, things tend to be different. If the whole shtick is that the female character is tough and capable, she may still choose the sentimental thing, but she'd make it work even if it shouldn't. That's really what makes it palatable to me when Aelin inevitably tries to take everything on her own shoulders and save others in the Throne of Glass YA series. That's fine, because she *plans*, she works for it, fights for it. Additionally, she's not selfless on a purely interpersonal level. She's a happy bitch who can be trusted to look out for her own survival, not to mention her creature comforts if at all possible. She's also judgey and frequently harsh. She tries to do the right thing, but it's impressive rather than pathetic or irrational, because she backs it up through hard work and strong problem-solving skills. Not to mention her magic and pure martial arts power. She's someone who has the wherewithal to back up almost any claims she makes. If she says she'll save someone (or everyone, as the case may be), the lack of resources or other apparent limits wouldn't matter, because you know she'll simply fix it. Or if not, then she'll organize the friends who will. First though, she'll be 100% *familiar* with those limits to overcome.

This is at least in part because it's epic fantasy, though. The protagonist is thus very strong, gifted and unusual. Like with Sherlock, you could (but probably wouldn't) call Aelin an eccentric genius. She has a different field of expertise, but they both have strengths well beyond the average human. In a genre romance, you're dealing with the same old righteously sentimental female protagonist but without the superhuman abilities. Those tend to be reserved for the male love interest. Sometimes, of course, the female protagonist has some special skills or powers, like being a xenobiologist, a hacker or an empath/telepath (or all of the above, even). But these skills aren't on a superhuman level, so limits certainly exist. The character just blithely ignores them, often leaving the rational, unsentimental thinking to the man whenever he's around. This is particularly maddening to me because the rational thinking often emerges alone, or in the company of other women. That said, the tendency to blame herself for others' issues remains consistent. I can't even claim it's unrealistic, though that doesn't make it any easier to tolerate, unfortunately.

#pointless rambles #me myself and i #characterization #writing #sherlock feels #reichenbach feels #feminism #throne of glass #aelin #ethics

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theworldoffostering · 6 years

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Home

The babysitter was super sweet when we arrived home. She and her fiancé were cleaning the kitchen. Things are okay. There has definitely been some fallout because trauma.

We arrived to find Ms. 6 walking around with her pant leg pulled up to her thigh and an ace bandage haphazardly wrapped around her leg. She immediately complained that her knee was hurting SO bad. She told me that she didn’t play at her volleyball tournament this weekend because of her hurt knee. I sent her to her room.

After I calmed down a little and had unpacked a bit, I went upstairs to talk to her and asked DH to come up soon after so I didn’t lose my cool. I had arranged for another mom that I hardly know to transport Ms. 6 to the tournament this weekend. The mom showed up to pick her up and Ms. 6 wasn’t at the house. The babysitter relied on Ms. 6 for the pick up time information. Me. 6 is not reliable and I had written that information down and gave the babysitter the information. I’m embarrassed and angry. The babysitter then drove Ms. 6 home from the pumpkin patch and then 30 minutes to her game and then back home and all of the kids had to go with for the ride. Then Ms. 6 decided her knee was too hurt to play. What this really means is that Ms. 6 had feelings that she needed to talk about, but talking about her feelings is hard for her. Instead, she makes up an injury and then draws a lot of attention to herself for the pretend injury. This allows her to get the attention she wants in a way that makes her feel cared for, but doesn’t force her to have to talk about how she feels. Stick a fork in me. These kinds of behaviors do me in. Repeat, repeat, repeat. This is a years long pattern at this point. She had no issue going to the pumpkin farm and running all over the place. Go figure.

As we were conversing about all of this in the bedroom she shares with DD, DH started picking up their room a bit. As he did, he came across a receipt for an e-cigarette that DD apparently purchased last week at her grocery store job. I don’t know what’s going on with her. She’s having an identity crisis of sorts I guess. Feeling all of the pressure of graduating high school with no idea of where to go after that. We are certainly not pushing her out of the nest, but it is clear that there is not a lot of logical thought/rational brain processing right now. I know intellectually that a lot of adopted kids find the transition from high school challenging. Unfortunately, that’s not providing me with a lot of empathy. I’m just trying to get her through graduation and another round of the ACTs, as well as preventing her from making decisions that have a life long impact (i.e. don’t meet strangers online, don’t lie to your parents about everything, don’t try drugs when you’re predisposed to addiction, don’t enter into relationships because you feel like you have to save the other person).

After that “talk,” I then talked with DS who was obviously under duress. After a lot of creative questioning, he finally told me he was angry but didn’t know why. After more questioning, it appears that he ate off diet. Not on purpose, but I think that and anxiety over us being away has caused him to feel off, and that’s okay. I told him it was great that he could talk to me about it, and that it was controlled enough that he wasn’t raging.

I came into H’s room with him because he was screaming and has been irritable since we got home. It smelled like pee. Turns out he wet the bed and the sheets never got changed. They smell awful. He’s currently in the bath. I stripped his bed and his sheets are in the wash. Baby was in his crib because we needed a moment, and he took off his clothes and peed in his bed so sheets are getting changed there too.

E asked to go to bed at 5:30. She looks exhausted. She’s currently in bed but not asleep. It’s not even 6pm. Baby is a mess as he didn’t nap all weekend. H spent a lot of he afternoon screaming and completely disregulated.

I still need to grocery shop at the four stores that are open tonight. I’m saving the fifth for tomorrow because it’s closed, and grade about 25 speeches. I also need to plan the homeschool curriculum for the week. E’s birthday is this month and she wants her first friend party so I’m going to try to make that happen for her too.

Maybe this is why we don’t leave town overnight. I don’t know. It was super great to be with DH, but is it worth it? Would it get better if we did this a few times a year?

#respite #this is foster care #trauma #post adoption #all the abandonment triggers

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tenken · 5 years

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Over the years I’ve seen Soujirou called emotionless or a psychopath, but never a child soldier. I think the enduring perception of Soujirou as lacking emotion or somehow inhuman is perpetuated by what we hear of Soujirou from Shishio. He is incapable of feeling. He is violence incarnate. The thing is, I don’t think we are meant to take Shishio literally. Shishio brags that he’s raised the perfect killer because that is the Soujirou who is useful to him.

It’s clear that there’s something abnormal about Soujirou from his first appearance assassinating Okubo with a smile. His cheerfulness is out of place and his comfort with violence disquieting. Yet as Soujirou’s story unfolds, it’s also clear that he suffered abuse and repressed his emotions to cope. I’ve always written Soujirou from the place of a child soldier, and I want to talk more about that.

If there is one sign that dismisses the psychopath interpretations of Soujirou, it’s that as a child he displayed compassion and empathy. In fact, it’s probably due to his gentle nature that he had to break his emotions to be comfortable doing what he does. His initiation to violence, the act of killing his abusive family, was committed under duress and encouraged by a man who armed him with a weapon and the wrong ideas. Shishio told 8 year-old Soujirou that might makes right, and took him in and trained him to be his assassin. Souijrou’s story is not dissimilar to that of child soldiers who are misled or coerced into committing acts of violence and find themselves with no other path.

What made Soujirou especially susceptible is that he was already alone and accustomed to physical and emotional abuse. Violence has always been a part of his life, and traveling with Shishio only exposed him to the worst of it while depriving him of a caring environment and any normalcy. I’m sure there were times growing up where Soujirou felt uncomfortable following an order, but the desire to be useful to Shishio and the fear of disapproval overwrote how he felt. The longer he spent working for Shishio, the more desensitized he became. What separates a soldier from a psychopath is that he won’t go out of his way to hurt people who have nothing to do with the cause, and certainly not out of impulse or pleasure.

Soujirou smiling while taking lives doesn’t indicate cheerfulness or amusement. Rather, it’s the opposite. As a child, he learned that if he got angry or cried, he would be beaten harder. If he put on a smile, his family would find it strange, get tired of beating him and leave him alone. Smiling became his way of enduring pain. It became a switch to disengage his emotions. A smile is then perhaps the least useful indicator of how he is feeling on the inside.

Humans employ defense mechanisms in traumatic circumstances. When Shishio meets him, Soujirou is a child who can quietly accept everything that happens to him without complaint. He tries to deny and minimalize his own pain. Where it’s not enough, he’s rewritten the narrative in his head. The act of killing his family was so traumatic that he falsely recalled the event as something he was fine with. It’s only when he was shown another path to the life he’s lived that the feelings of guilt he buried came back. When he remembered the truth -- “in the rain I smiled, but I was actually crying” -- it opened the floodgate to the emotional devastation he had repressed.

The reason why Soujirou clung to Shishio’s mantra of “the strong live, the weak die”, kill or be killed, is because this framing absolves himself of blame, and to free himself of blame is to free himself of pain. It means there’s no good or bad, just winners and losers. If the alternative is to be hurt, he would rather hurt others. That isn’t how the world is, but it’s easy to believe when the world he’s lived in was so cruel. Soujirou’s grown up with a confusing set of rules. A kid wants the world to make sense, and Shishio was the first to provide him clarity. Unfortunately Shishio did more harm than good by telling him the reason why his family abused him was because he was weak. While it’s a devastating thing to tell a child, to Soujirou it meant there was a way out. Strength promised safety. Becoming strong meant that he would never have to feel powerless, never be hurt again. He took Shishio’s path and suppressed his misgivings.

To complicate things, being an assassin for Shishio included many positive experiences. Soujirou adores Shishio and is grateful to him. Shishio didn’t coerce him or threaten him. He didn’t need to, Soujirou was an obedient child who was starved of affection and easy to manipulate. Not all child soliders are coerced. Some willingly volunteer, misled by promises and a sense of purpose. Shishio indoctrinated Soujirou and elevated him to his right-hand man. Their relationship has been described as that of a cult leader and cult follower, and it’s quite apt. Souijrou believed in Shishio, sought comfort in his words and ignored his own confusion and pain. His own family treated him so terribly that Shishio looked like a saint in comparison. While committing crimes for Shishio brought Soujirou a lot of regret, it also brought him praise and belonging, the closest he’s ever known to love. Is it a wonder that Soujirou turned out so confused?

Soujirou is human, and so he will have feelings. He is good at denying them because hiding them was the safer thing to do, and then became what he had to do to keep himself from falling apart. Through it all, he is never self-aware of how traumatized he is. Shishio’s description of him is ironic in retrospect. The Soujirou that exists in Shishio’s mind is one that would have followed him to hell without question, not the Soujirou who broke down in confusion. If Soujirou truly was without remorse, even Kenshin couldn’t have reached him. That he couldn’t become the perfect soldier speaks everything to his humanity.

#ooc #headcanon #I finally..finished writing the meta I said I would 2 years ago

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picardonhealth · 5 years

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Expert panel on assisted dying has left us with many questions, but no solutions

ANDRÉ PICARD, The Globe and Mail

DECEMBER 13, 2018

If you hire an expert to tackle a problem, should you not expect them to come up with a solution?

For example, if you hire an architect, you don’t just want a catalogue of the possible homes you could build, and the pros and cons of each – you want a blueprint for a home that meets your needs.

Yet, when the federal government commissioned the Council of Canadian Academies to study some thorny outstanding issues related to medical assistance in dying, the blue-ribbon panel’s explicit mandate was to not make any recommendations.

The experts spent 18 months studying three issues related to assisted death: whether mature minors should have the same right to end their life as adults; how to handle advance requests for medical assistance in dying (MAiD), particularly from people with dementia; and how to legislate MAiD for people suffering from mental illness.

Now we have the result: 798 pages of thoughtful and mercilessly detailed analysis of these legal and ethical quandaries, but no solutions.

Under existing legislation, patients under 18 are not eligible for assisted death. That age cut-off is arbitrary and likely will be challenged in court, especially that minors can make other medical decisions, such as discontinuing life support.

Yet, there is no legal definition of “mature minor”; treatment decisions are made based on circumstances related to the medical condition and the maturity of the individual. Will that approach work with assisted death? Will parents/guardians have to be involved?

Canada’s law requires express consent immediately prior to a patient receiving a lethal injection. Practically, that means people cannot give advance consent to MAiD. For example, a person cannot say that once their dementia becomes advanced and they are bedridden, they want an assisted death, because they will lack the capacity for that final consent.

Is written prior consent sufficient? Do you allow substitute decision-makers to make that call, the way they do with ending life support or discontinuing eating and drinking?

Under Canadian law, people with mental illness are not explicitly excluded from seeking a medically assisted death, but they are unlikely to satisfy the eligibility criteria, notably that their condition be “grievous and irremediable” and death “reasonably foreseeable.” These restrictions are already being challenged in lawsuits.

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As the panel noted, it can be difficult to distinguish between an autonomous decision to choose MAiD and a pathological desire to die that can be a symptom of severe mental illness, and it is even more difficult to make a prognosis of how illness will evolve.

All three of the issues that were studied by the panels have a common trait: They involve vulnerable groups that need to be simultaneously protected from exploitation and protected from exclusion. In other words, we need to find the balance between protecting them from harm and respecting their rights.

In each of these cases – mature minors, patients making advanced requests and people with mental illnesses – there are three key questions that have to be answered to determine if they should be able to request MAiD: 1. do they have capacity to make a medical decision? 2. can they be provided with adequate information on which to make a decision? 3. can they make a voluntary choice free of duress or coercion?

Those are tough questions and, unfortunately, 18 months of study and three weighty volumes of reflection has brought us no closer to answers, no closer to resolution.

This is not a knock on the panels who did yeoman’s work to produce the reports; they did precisely what they were asked to do – “fill in the gaps in knowledge.”

Today, two-and-half-years after the medical assistance in dying law took effect, a fundamental problem remains: Certain people, because of their age, their underlying condition and the uncertainty about how their illness will evolve, are being denied a right to choose assisted death.

That’s wrong. It needs to be fixed.

The panels have left us with a lot of questions, many of which have no right or wrong answer. But sooner rather than later, politicians – principally the federal government, but there are many provincial issues well – will have to make tough decisions.

We need a law that respects the desire of people – all people – to maintain control over their lives and their wish for a dignified death, all the while safeguarding them from potential abuse.

Politicians and policy-makers cannot continue to keep punting the MAiD ball from committee to expert committee, and ultimately leaving it to the courts to make Solomonesque decisions.

#MAiD

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scripttorture · 6 years

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(Sci Fi) My character was part of a group trying to pull down an organization performing some non-ethical experiments on her species, in order to fit in and not be discovered she had to help with the experiments, as well as spread and repeat hateful propganda against her own kind. The first trial killed all the inital victims, so she gave up information that would refine the procedure and make it non-lethal. Eventually she gets in over her head and is discovered 1/2

sci fi) she is then blackmailed by the human discoverer to further the experiments. I don't want to seem like I'm sympathizing with a torturer, but is she also a victim in this? She shows a lot of guilt and regret over what happened, to the point of thinking she doesn't deserve to live when so many suffered because of what she did. 2/3 (I misjudged sorry!)(sci fi) I also don't want to seem like the message of this character is 'torture is ok', so I'm not sure whether it's ok for her to be forgiven in the end. I've done some reading of my own, but I'm getting conflicting information. Thank you so much for this! 3/3

I spent an hour and a half writing a 1K word response this morning andthen realised I’d possibly misinterpreted the question.

I’m unclear on whether you’re asking about one character or two andsince I’ve already written out a response to one of those scenarios- I thinkI’m going to write a response to other as well and post both.

The first response is assuming that the ask is focused on a secondcharacter blackmailing but later working with the non-human victim.

The second response is assuming that the victim here is the non-humancharacter and that she later complies with torturers and assists them underthreat.

From what you’ve said I don’t think that this story is going to end upsuggesting torture is OK.

You’ve got a victim complying, partly because she’s under pressure butpartly because she has a way to prevent others around her dying. You’ve alsogot a torturer coming to regret her actions. I don’t think there’s anythingwrong or apologist in either circumstance.

As for forgiveness and who ‘deserves’ it- I think that’s a very personal thing.

I don’t think victims should ever be pressured to forgive their abusersbut that doesn’t mean some of them wouldn’t anyway.

You’re probably aware that much of the Middle East has the deathpenalty. You might not be aware that in many of those countries there’s also alegal provision for the death penalty to be commuted if the victims or thevictims’ families forgive the criminal. A few years ago there was a video fromIran that went round of a convicted murderer who was literally just about to behanged. The mother of his victim stormed up to the scaffold and tore the nooseoff his neck.

She also slapped him.

These laws have been abused and they’re not always applied in fair ways.But I’ve always rather liked the idea of forgiveness being written into thelaw.

I’m trying to focus on the victim here because really I don’t think itmatters if we forgive a torturer. Ifyou weren’t their victim then the idea of ‘forgiving’ a torturer seems rathernonsensical to me.

And I think that’s the best way to approach it in the story. Set theoverall narrative aside for the moment: does the victim forgive her?

Because that is possible. I’ve never seen a statistical analysis of itbut my instinct from the anecdotal accounts I’ve read is that it’s rare.

But it is possible. At leastone of the survivors interviewed in Monroe’s A Darkling Plain forgave the people who’d tormented her and herfamily. This stood in pretty stark contrast to the account of another womanwho’d survived the same atrocity and very much didn’t forgive anyone.

There are a couple of things I’d caution about when writing this. One isthat I think you should be very careful not to imply that victims must forgive their abusers. That’s anunfortunately common message and it isn’t particularly helpful to survivors,whether they want to forgive someone or not.

The other is that I think it would be very easy to accidentally implythis is a common response when it isn’t. I’d suggest working in the opinions ofother survivors if you can. They don’t have to be shown as aggressive orantagonistic towards the former torturer, in fact I’d say the most commonresponse is simply not wanting to be anywhere near them.

But I think the narrative would probably benefit if you showed that notevery victim is going to be forgiving and thatthat’s OK.

Which leaves me with the question of victimhood and sympathy.

Honestly? It sounds like you aresympathising with this torturer character a lot. I don’t think there’s anythingwrong with that because as a writer you’re probably pretty deep inside herhead. There’s a degree to which it’s natural that we sympathise with ourcharacters however horrible they are.

Don’t feel guilty for understanding a character deeply. That’s part ofwhat makes good writing.

I don’t think she’s a victimthough.

From everything you’ve said here this character had a pretty clearchoice. There’s no indication she was under threat or duress. As far as I cantell from what you’ve said she took a job that at some point changed so thatshe was required to torture other sentient beings.

She could have quit. She could have left. She could have transferred.She could have done dozens of things to take herself out of that situation.

Instead she chose to torture.

And it sounds as if she did so simply because she was told to and itwould have been personally inconvenient to resist.

That says rather a lot about her character.

Have you heard of Chiune Sugihara? He was vice-consul at the JapaneseConsulate in Lithuania during the lead up to World War 2.

Jewish people from Poland fled into Lithuania and, with Lithuania’sconsiderable Jewish population that meant quite a lot of people in the countrydesperately trying to leave ahead of an invading force that wanted them dead.

Sugihara contacted his superiors in Tokyo and they told him prettyfirmly that most of the refugees didn’t meet visa requirements. Sugihara gavethem visas anyway.

He hand wrote official documents for up to 20 hours a day and reportedlythrew blank (but signed) visa papers from the window of his departing trainwhen his superiors ordered him to leave.

This was career suicide. Sugihara lost his job and ended up doing menialwork to support his family.

He saved an estimated six thousand people.

We always have a choice.

Some torturers are also victims of torture. Butif we’re going down that route then a hugenumber of violent far right terrorists were victims of child abuse. Theresearch in that New Scientist article strongly suggests that these people wereviolent before joining hate groups.The ‘ideology’ provides a handy excuse for violent behaviour that was alreadythere.

Abuse doesn’t make people violent and it doesn’t excuse violence. Thefact that so many of these people werevictims does not absolve them from blame when they victimise others. Suggestingthat it does undermines the agency of survivors and supports the unfortunatestereotype of abuse making victims violent.

To be honest even if you’d told me that this torturer character wasthreatened with torture and death unless she complied I’d still have emphasised that she chose to comply.

Much of what I’ve said before still applies if the ask is only about onecharacter.

I still don’t think there’sanything in the scenario to suggest torture is OK.

There’s also quite a lot of scope to highlight the way torture doesn’t produce obedience even thoughthe character is complying with torturers. That’s because she seems to beprimarily motivated by saving the lives of others. The one major incident ofcompliance you’ve told me about saves a lot of people.

I think so long as you emphasise her motivations you should be alright.Because initially at least she isn’tstrongly motivated by the threat of torture, she’s motivated by how she can useher position close to the torturers to assist their victims.

And this does leave a prettycomplex situation where you have someone who was in some ways a victim and inothers an abuser.

I think much of what I’ve said about forgiveness and choice in theprevious answer still applies. She couldhave chosen to refuse or resist even when afraid for her life. People have anddo refuse or resist in similar situations, even when it means their death.

I think that once again comes back to the concept of a strongly heldbelief.

If you’ve been following the blog for a while you’ll know I’m fond ofstressing the fact that torture can’tchange strongly held beliefs or force people to act against them.

But the definition of what’s ‘strongly held’ is nebulous. What someoneis actually willing to die for isn’t always…necessarily what culture andsociety tells us we ‘should’ sacrifice for.

It’s obvious why the character feels guilty. I think it would be normalfor her to want the forgiveness ofthe people around her, and for her to feel suicidal. But it’s also important torealise that most of the people who were victimised probably won’t forgive her.And that isn’t a flaw on their part, it’s part of the antagonism torturenaturally produces.

I think that when we’re writing complex situations like this the idea ofhow we apportion or assign blame isn’t always helpful.

It’s possible for someone in real life to be a victim in some contextsand an abuser in others. One doesn’t negate the other and I think we do a verypoor job of accepting the reality of both.

That means that trying to work out these complicated situations infiction is incredibly important.

I’ve made a couple of attempts myself. The way I tend to approach it is,again, very much on an individual level. Because I think when we write a narrative suggesting a particularoutcome or attitude is best that sends a very particular message to a reader.Whereas if you have a narrative that shows you how different people see thischaracter the reader ends up with several versions of her and they need tothink through which interpretation they agree with.

I wrote an exchange recently between two characters of similar ages. Inthe setting the older generation had an extremely bloody civil war and both ofthese characters had grown up very close to adults who were responsible foratrocities. They talked about the difficult they felt balancing the awfulthings they knew their parental figures had done with the fact that bothparental figures had been very good to them as individuals.

It’s an important conversation, one that I think we’re sorely lackingright now. The way we deal with the idea that people who were good to us personally may have been absolutelyawful to other people.

This character probably feels helpless and trapped. She probablyjustifies her actions to herself by saying she had to, she was forced to. Andthe flip side is she’s also saved lives.

There’s more than one way to handle this. Letting the characters individuallyweigh up her actions is how I would do it, but it’s not necessarily ‘the rightway’, just one of several.

I think so long as you show both sides of what she does, withoutglossing over the good or the bad aspects you should be alright. Readers candecide for themselves whether they want to sympathise with her or not andwhether they want to see her forgiven or not.

And I think I’m going to leave that there.

I hope it helps. :)

Disclaimer

#tw torture #unethical experimentation #consent #compliance #writing victims #writing torturers #forgiveness #Anonymous

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chanoyu-to-wa · 6 years

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Nampō Roku, Book 1 (33b): the Mind of Wabi-Chanoyu in Poetry (part 2): the Poem Discovered by Rikyū.

33b) And again, Sōeki, because he had found one more poem, always wrote the two verses down together, believing them [to reveal the true mind of wabi-chanoyu]¹.

From the same collection², Ietaka's [家隆]³ verse⁴:

hana wo nomi matsuran hito ni yamazato no, yukima-no-kusa no haru wo mise-ba ya

[花をのミ待らん人に山ざとの、雪間の草の春を見せばや]⁵.

This [poem] should [always] be added [to the one selected by Jōō].

The people of this world [are always wondering]: “on that mountain over there, in yonder grove, the flowers -- when, oh when will they begin to bloom?⁶”

Morning and evening they search [for these flowers and colored leaves] outside [of themselves]⁷, while failing to understand that those flowers and colored leaves are also within their own hearts⁸: [they] are only taking pleasure in the [fleeting] colors⁹ that appear before their eyes.

In the mountain village, as also in the tomaya by the bay, is [found] the same quiet abode⁹. [At the end of] last year, the whole of the year's flowers and the colored leaves, both¹¹ were completely buried by the snow [and so we can now start anew]. Coming to the empty mountain village, we can finally live in quietude: this is the same idea as the tomaya by the bay.

Besides this [opportunity to live in serenity], it is from that place where nothing exists that a feeling of spontaneity will appear in everything one does as host¹³ -- naturally and continuously¹⁴. It is like [the dormant landscape] buried under snow, from which the yang energy arises as spring advances -- so that surely, within the snow here and there, pale-green herbs begin to grow, pushing their two leaves and three leaves upward [through the snow]: without [needing to] exert [any external] force, [we] are [naturally] able to arrive at the authentic [expression of our samadhi] -- this is the way we should understand the example [described in this poem].

As for the Way of Poetry, it [surely] has its own [way of understanding the] details [of such things]. But with respect to this pair of poems, the [impressions] that have been carefully set down here accord with what was heard regarding the way [these poems] were understood in Jōō's and Rikyū's Way of Tea¹⁶.

[Considered] like this, [Jōō’s and Rikyū’s interpretations] reveal a deep aspiration for the Way¹⁶, and an enlightenment that surpasses all others¹⁷. The foolish monks [of the present day]¹⁸ are unable to equal [the samadhi achieved by these two tea masters]. Truly, we must venerate and appreciate such men of the Way¹⁹. We must wonder if this so-called “Way of Tea” might really be just another name for the Way of Enlightenment of the Patriarchs and the Buddhas?²⁰

How truly, marvelously commendable!²¹

_________________________

◎ A nineteenth century rendition of the poem quoted in the text of this entry, written on a pair of miniature shikishi [色紙]* cut from a piece of Chinese paper (kara-kami [唐紙]). This kind of arrangement is called tsugi-shikishi [繼色紙].

The calligrapher has not been identified. ___________ *Each of which measures 4-sun by 3-sun. The way a piece of ryōshi [料紙] was cut into standard-sized pieces for use as a medium on which poems might be inscribed was explained in the previous post. These tsugi-shikishi illustrate the way that a poem is traditionally divided across the two pieces of paper (with the kami-no-ku [上の句], which consists of three lines of 5-7-5 syllables, is usually written on one piece, while the shmo-no-ku [下の句], two lines of 7-7 syllables, is written on the other).

¹Shinzerareshi nari [信ゼラレシ也].

Shinzuru [信ずる] means to believe in (something). It is being used in the sense of “believe in God.” In other words, have an unshakeable faith that something is true.

Since the topic of this entry is wabi-chanoyu no kokoro [ワビ茶の湯のこころ], it was not necessary to repeat it here.

The statement means that Rikyū believed that the two poems (perhaps taken together) revealed the secrets of the mind of wabi-chanoyu.

²Dō-shū [同集].

This means “(from) the same collection,” and refers to the Shin Kokin Wakashū [新古今和歌集], where the first poem (by Fujiwara no Sadaie) is found.

However, and oddly, this poem is not included in the Shin Kokin Shu. Rather, the “published version*” is found in a private collection of Ietaka's poetry, the Mi-ni Shū [壬二集] (more will be said about this in the next footnote)†. ___________ *This refers to the final version of the poem, the one that was circulated among Ietaka’s contemporaries, and handed down to future generations (usually in hand-copied manuscript editions, rather than printed books). Occasionally there are minor differences between the “printed” version and the original -- since the original version was produced (under a certain amount of duress) during a poetry competition, which the poet sometimes “cleaned up” afterward (if the poem was received positively by the judges and critics, making it worthy of giving to a wider audience, and preserved for posterity).

†The poem was originally composed as one of Ietaka’s entries during an uta-awase [歌合] competition, and was probably first circulated in the minutes of that gathering.

³Ietaka [家隆].

This refers to Fujiwara no Ietaka [藤原家隆; 1158 ~ 1237]*, a contemporary and relative of Fujiwara no Sadaie, and a respected poet†.

Ietaka held the junior grade of the Second Rank (ju-ni-i [従二位]), and served as the minister who oversaw the management of the Imperial Household (ku-nai kyō [宮内卿]). __________ *The portrait of Ietaka shown above comes from a Meiji period book, and so is highly stylized. It does not appear as if any contemporaneous portraits of Ietaka have survived.

†Together with Sadaie, Ietaka was one of the compilers of the Shin Kokin Wakashū [新古今和歌集] -- though none of Ietaka’s poems were included in that anthology.

As I mentioned in the previous note, it seems that this particular poem was originally submitted as one of Ietaka’s entries during a poetry competition held in Kenkyū 3 [建久三年] (1192), a gathering that has come to be immortalized as the Roppyaku-ban Uta-awase [六百番歌合] (“the Poetry Competition in Six-hundred Innings”). During this poetry meet Ietaka competed on the side of the Right (u-hō [右方]), while Sadaie also participated, but on the side of the Left (sa-hō [左方]).

The poem was also subsequently included in a private (3-volume) collection of Ietaka’s best verses (works in this genre are referred to as shi-ka shū [私家集]), usually known as the Mi-ni Shū [壬二集] (the name comes from one of Ietaka's nicknames: Mibu ni-i [壬生二位]). (This collection is also sometimes referred to as the Gyoku-gin Shū [玉吟集].)

⁴Uta [哥].

The kanji* ka [哥], which can also be pronounced uta, means “elder brother.” It was apparently used as a shorthand form of the kanji ka, uta [歌], which means “poem” (literally, the kanji means a song or chant: the types of poems originally described by this word -- the tan-ka [短歌]† -- were intended to be chanted, never just read silently -- it is said that their true meaning can only be fully appreciated when they are changed out loud). ___________ *In fact, this kanji has rarely been employed in Japan for its literal meaning. It has historically been used as an abbreviation for the homophonous ka, uta [歌], which means “poem,” “song.”

†Tan-ka [短歌] (which means “short verse”) are poems composed of 31 syllables (in the format 5-7-5 7-7). Tanka is another name for the wa-ka [和歌] (which means “Japanese-style poem,” and was originally a generic term for all styles of Japanese poetry).

⁵Hana wo nomi matsuran-hito ni yamazato no, yukima-no-kusa no haru wo mise-ba ya [花をのミ待らん人に山ざとの、雪間の草の春を見せばや].

The poem may be translated: “to those people who are waiting only for the [cherry] blossoms: the herbs [flowering] within the snow in a mountain village -- that is the place to look for ‘Spring.’”

Hana wo nomi matsuran-hito ni [花をのミ待らん人に]: hana [花], in classical Japanese literature*, is a reference to the cherry blossoms†; nomi [のみ] is the literary equivalent of dake [だけ] or bakari [ばかり], and means “just (this),” “nothing other than (this),” “nothing but (this);” matsuran-hito [待らん人] means a person who is waiting (for something), and in classical poetry the word often implied a state of impatient longing (as of a woman‡ waiting for her lover to arrive); and ni [に], which means “to,” refers to the object (introduced by the particle wo [を]) of the second phrase, mise-ba [見せ場].

Yamazato no yukima-no-kusa no haru [山ざとの雪間の草の春]: yamazato [山里] means a mountain village; yukima-no-kusa no haru [雪間の草の春] means “the spring of the plants-within-the-snow.” According to poetic scholars, Ietaka’s intended mental image was what is conveyed by the above photo**.

Mise-ba ya [見せばや]: miseba [見せ場] means “a/the place to look” (and so the expression is often used idiomatically in modern Japanese†† to mean a highlight, in the sense of a decisive scene or climactic moment -- something that must be looked at); ya [や] functions as a sort of exclamation point, since the argument (that the people waiting for the cherry blossoms should rather look at the plants buried in the snow) is unexpected and startling. ___________ *In Japanese poetry, the word hana [花] usually implies the cherry blossom. In Chinese poetry, however, it usually means the tree-peony.

†The cherry blossoms flower from late spring into early summer (hence the occasional complaints regarding the late-flowering varieties that are found in Heian literature, since these late blossoms contravened the ingrained cultural sensibilities).

In fact, the cherry blossoms generally begin to bloom two weeks after the buds of the hana-suou [花蘇芳], the Oriental Red-bud tree (Cercis chinensis), change color (which indicated the time when the ro should be closed, and the furo brought back into use).

‡Unfortunately (for modern feminist sensibilities), in ancient times women generally remained in their own homes (even after they were married), with their lover or husband coming for amorous/conjugal visits when circumstances permitted (or the pangs of passion demanded). This remained a poetic convention even after it became common for a woman to move into her husband’s residence after marriage.

**The flowers generate heat as they elongate and begin to bloom, thus melting the snow around them enough to allow them to flower more or less unmolested. Note that the snow is compacted and “old,” which is another indication of the advent of Spring.

This plant, known as fuku-ju-sō [福壽草] (Adonis amurensis) -- which means “the herb of good fortune and long life,” another indication of its intimate connection with the New Year -- always begins to flower around the time of the Lunar New Year (and then blooms again, on much-elongated stems, after the snow has melted away). It, thus, is a better harbinger of Spring than is the cherry blossom, which flowers at the end of the season. This poem seems to turn on the idea that it is better to appreciate things when they are nascent (anticipation), rather than at their end (regret).

Furthermore, the fuku-ju-sō presents an image of strength, perseverance, and ultimate victory, while the cherry blossoms have always been considered fickle, inconstant, and weak (since their petals begin to fall while they are blooming, even when prodded by nothing more than a gentle spring breeze), and Ietaka’s poem also seems to be comparing these attributes as well, leading to his ultimate preference for the former.

††Care must always be taken by the modern reader not to apply contemporary usages to the words in classical writings. In pre-Edo times, the kanji were generally used much more literally: miseru [見せる] means to show, indicate, point out (something); ba [場] means a field, a spot (as in “this is the spot”), a place.

⁶Sejō no hito-bito soko no yama ・ kashiko no mori no hana ga, itsu-itsu saku-beki kado [世上の人々そこの山・かしこの森の花が、いつ〰さくべきかど].

Seijō no hito-bito [世上の人々]: seojō [世上] means “in the world,” “in society,” and refers to the mundane world (the world that Buddhism recommends that we eschew); hito-bito [人々] means the people. Thus, “ordinary people,” people who have not been enlightened. Such people are always obsessed with ephemeral matters that are inherently insignificant and meaningless.

Kashiko no mori no hana ga [かしこの森の花が]: kashiko [かしこ] means there (especially when pointing with the finger), over there, yonder; mori [森] is usually translated “forest,” but here does not necessarily mean anything so extensive, hence grove; and once again, hana [花] refers to "cherry blossoms" -- with ga [が] indicating that it is the subject of the whole compound phrase -- the subject not only of “kashiko no mori,” but also of “soko no yama” (that mountain over there) as well*.

Itsu-itsu sakubeki kado [いつ〰さくべきかど]: itsu [何時] means “at what time(?),” so doubling it makes their query emphatic, or possibly introduces a sense of urgency; saku [咲くべき] means to bloom, so saku-beki [咲くべき] means should open; kado [かど] is a colloquialism which indicates doubt.

The “worldly people” are concerned about when the cherries will bloom because this will give them the opportunity to go on a hana-mi [花見] outing, where they can eat and drink and enjoy themselves (usually to the point of excess). __________ *Grammatically, the grove is not on the mountain to which the second half of the phrase refers. They are two different places where the cherry blossoms might be found. This is the reason for the interpunct (“・”).

⁷Ake-kure soto ni motomete [あけ暮外にもとめて].

Ake-kure [明け暮れ] literally means “when it is getting light, when it is growing dark,” and means “morning and evening” (and, by extension, “day and night” -- in other words, “constantly”).

Soto ni motomete [外にもとめて]: soto ni [外に] means externally, outside of (oneself); motomeru [求める] means look for, search for.

⁸Iro [色].

The word iro [色] (“color”) is frequently employed as a metaphor for worldly phenomena, especially things of a sensual nature (which are frowned upon by Buddhist monks).

⁹Kano hana-momiji mo waga-kokoro ni aru koto wo shirazu [かの花紅葉も我心にある事をしらず].

Kano [かの]* means “that,” “(over) there,” “those.”

Waga-kokoro ni [我心に] literally means “within my own heart.”

Shirazu [知らず] means “not knowing about (something);” “to be ignorant of (something).” ___________ *In the modern language, the pronunciation ano [あの] seems to be preferred.

¹⁰Sabita jūkyo [サビタ住居].

Sabitaru [寂びたる] means quiet, soundless, still, silent; and has the nuance of being free of turmoil, uproar, or confusion (and what these ideas mean in a Buddhist sense).

Jūkyo [住居] is a residence, house, dwelling, abode.

¹¹Kyonen hito-tose no hana mo momiji mo [去年一トセノ花モ紅葉モ].

Hito-tose no hana mo momiji mo [一年の花も紅葉も] means one year's (flowers and colored leaves), the whole year's (flowers and colored leaves).

The meaning is (while attempting to use the imagery provided by the poem) that the past has buried the past. The past is past.

¹²Sabi-sumashita made ha [サビスマシタマデハ].

There is an omission in this line. It should read sabi-sumashitaru made ha [寂び住ましたるまでは] which means “until one can live quietly....”

¹³Onozukara-kan wo moyōsu-yō-naru shosa [ヲノヅカラ感ヲモヨホスヤウナル所作].

Onozukara-kan [自ずから感] means spontaneous feelings.

Moyōsu-yō-naru shosa [催す様なる所作]: moyōsu [催す] means to host (a gathering), to hold (a gathering), to throw (a party); yō [様] means “like that” (referring to whatever word it follows); naru [成る] means “to do;” and shosa [所作] means gestures, behavior. So, this expression means “the things one does when hosting (a gathering).”

¹⁴Ten-nen to ha tsure-zure aru ha [天然トハヅレ〰ニアルハ].

Ten-nen [天然] means naturally.

Zure-zure [連々]* means “successively,” “continuously,” “in an uninterrupted stream.” __________ *Tanaka Senshō's text has soba-soba [端々] here, which means “here and there,” “scattered.”

“Things arising spontaneously, here and there” certainly is a valid Zen sentiment that is the topic of many well-known kōan [公案].

¹⁵Chikara wo kuwaezu ni shin-naru-tokoro no aru dō-ri ni torare-shi nari [力ヲ加ヘズニ真ナル所ノアル道理ニトラレシ也].

Chikara wo kuwaezu [力を加えず] means “force is not added” -- in other words, “without applying (any external) force.”

Shin-naru-tokoro [真成る所] means “the place of truth;” “the place where the truth is found.”

Aru dō-ri ni [有る道理に] means “there is a/the reason.”

Torare-suru [取られする] means “to take (something a certain way;” “take hold of (an idea).”

Thus, without adding any external force*, we naturally arrive at the place where the truth is able to expresses itself -- this is how we should understand the example of the green herbs pushing their way upward through the snow. __________ *The “yang energy” appears spontaneously from within the earth.

¹⁶Kayo ni michi ni kokorozashi-fukaku [かやうに道に心ざしふかく].

Michi ni kokorozashi-fukaku [道に志深く]* means “to harbor a deep aspiration for the Way.” __________ *Kokorozashi [心ざし] is an erroneous (or possibly phonetic) rendering of the word kokorozashi [志].

¹⁷This assessment is usually interpreted (by modern-day scholars) as referring to Rikyū alone. However, from the context, it would appear that Sōkei (or whoever wrote this passage) is saying that both Jōō's and Rikyū's apparent state of insight (enlightenment) might be so described.

In fact (the propaganda narrative written and directed by the Senke aside), this would tend to agree with early Edo ideas, especially those held by members of the governing class, where (relying on machi-shū narratives that arose in the immediate aftermath of Rikyū's seppuku) the chanoyu of Jōō's middle period was revered as highly as anything attributed to Rikyū (and where most of such attributions were borrowed from things actually done by Jōō or Furuta Sōshitsu, and only credited to Rikyū).

The fact that Katagiri Sadamasa (Sekishū), whose original lineage took him back to Rikyū (through Kuwayama Sōzen, who was Sen no Dōan's principal disciple), chose to devote the last years of his life studying Jōō's chanoyu is significant -- and revealing of the sensibilities of that age.

¹⁸Gu-bō tō ga oyobu-beki ni arazu [愚坊等が及ぶべきにあらず].

Gu-bō tō [愚坊等]: gu-bō [愚坊] means “foolish monk,” as we have seen before in Book One of the Nampō Roku, and Nambō Sōkei used it when referring to himself. Adding tō [等] to a noun essentially makes it plural*. Thus, gu-bō tō [愚坊等] means something like “the foolish monks (of the present day).”

Sōkei was the shuso [首座] (the monk who is in charge of controlling the monks in the temple system) of the Nanshū-ji, and so he would have been a reliable judge of the abilities and attainments of those of his contemporaries who were under his charge (and thus would be able to make a reasonable extrapolation to the monks of his generation more generally).

Oyobu-beki [及ぶべき] means “should be equal (to),” “should be the same (as).”

Arazu [有らず] means “(this kind) does not exist,” “there are none (such).” ___________ *Tō [等] actually designates a class or group of closely related (or identical) things. Thus, gu-bō tō [愚坊等] literally means foolish monks of this class. The kanji is also pronounced -nado [など = 等], where it literally means “and the like,” “and things of that sort.”

¹⁹Makoto ni tattobu-beku arigataki dō-jin [まことに尊ふべくありがたき道人].

Makoto ni [誠に] means truly, honestly, truthfully speaking.

Tattobu-beku [尊ぶべく]: tattobu [尊ぶ] means to respect, to revere, to venerate, to honor; -beku [べく] means should.

Arigataki dō-jin [有り難き道人] (or arigatai [有り難い道人], in the modern language) means things like “kind,” “favorable,” “blessed,” “welcome;” dō-jin [道人] means a Man of the Way. Thus, “a wonderful Man of the Way;” or possibly something like “a Man of the Way for whom we are deeply thankful.”

²⁰Cha no michi kado omoeba sunawachi, soshi-futsu no go-dō nari [茶ノ道カトヲモへバ則、祖師佛ノ悟道也].

Cha no michi kado omoeba [茶の道かど思えば]: cha-no-michi [茶の道] means the Way of Tea; kado [かど] is a colloquialism which indicates doubt; omoeba [思えば] means “if I think (something),” “I wonder if....” Thus “when I think about the Way of Tea....”

Sunawachi [則ち] means “namely,” “that is to say” -- in other words, “another name for....”

Soshi [祖師] means “the patriarchs” -- the founders of the different schools and sects of Buddhism.

Futsu [佛] means “the Buddha,” or “the Buddhas” (depending on how one understands the nature of the Buddhist deities*).

Go-dō [悟道] means the Way of Satori; the Path of Enlightenment†. __________ *Some Buddhist scholars consider the various named Buddhas and Bodhisattvas to represent different aspects of Siddhartha Gautama's mind.

And many would argue that there are no such entities as “deities” in Buddhism.

†Satori [悟り] means enlightenment.

²¹Shushō-shushō [殊勝〰].

Shushō [殊勝] means commendable. Doubling the word amplifies the complement.

———————————————————————————————————

This second part of the entry 31 clearly betrays the influence of the ideas that were eventually codified in the Zen-Cha Roku [禪茶録] -- which is also true for other portions of Book One of the Nampō Roku that are linguistically similar to this one*.

The language is also consistent with previous entries that have been judged spurious (for example, large sections of the post, entitled Nampō Roku, Book 1 (31): No-gake [野懸け]¹ (part 1) -- the Daizen-ji Mountain Chakai), despite the fact that this is one of the best known (and most beloved) entries in the Nampō Roku.

Furthermore, and contrary to the assertions made in the present entry, no copies of either of these poems have ever been attributed to Rikyū in any of the kaiki from the late sixteenth century down to the present†. This would not, in and of itself, prove that such copies never existed. But when taken together with the fact that a number of kakemono featuring one or the other of these poems -- written by important political or tea figures over the course of the Edo period -- appear with a certain regularity in the kaiki, the absence of even one instance where the writing is attributed to Rikyū (even when the honshi [本紙] is not actually signed -- as was usually the case with shikishi [本紙]) is certainly disturbing.

This all begs an answer to the question of why such a spurious essay has garnered (and sustained) the recognition that it has‡. And the only possible answer is that it filled a philosophical void -- a void that exists in Rikyū’s actual writings -- and which can be expressed as a desire for information that shows the practitioners of chanoyu what and how they are supposed to think. The absence of such modi operandi was, at least on Rikyū’s part, apparently quite deliberate -- since, for him, chanoyu seems to have been intended as a vehicle through which the practitioner’s own nature was expressed (a revelation of the state of his samadhi), which was to be governed by as few exogenous rules as possible. This, of course, was bound to come into conflict with the Edo period’s social conventions, where everybody was told everything that they were supposed to believe, and say, and do, and where dissenters and nonconformists were usually punished severely.

This entry conforms closely to certain machi-shū strains of thought, which eventually took their final form from the teachings of Takuan Sōhō (best known to us as they were ultimately expounded in the Zen-Cha Roku); and, since it was this same group of machi-shū practitioners that the Tokugawa bakufu set up as the official heritors of Rikyū’s chanoyu, it was perhaps necessary to have a strongly worded passage present in this collection of writings that were supposed to reflect and reveal the secrets of Rikyū’s own chanoyu.

That this section came to be regarded as (and remains) one of the most influential essays in the Nampō Roku appears, then, to have been by deliberate and calculated design. Even as it remains at odds with the usual inclination toward luxury and ostentatious display (and the secret teachings and money) that were (and remain) its counterpoint in the version of chanoyu that has been handed down to us from the Edo period. ___________ *Which suggests that they were authored by the same person, or at the behest of the same organization -- who, due to the obvious and inherent differences in the idiom of the language, can not reasonably be identified with either Sen no Rikyū or Nambō Sōkei (even when we allow that such authentic sections were also reworked, often extensively, by Tachibana Jitsuzan -- whose purpose appears to have been, at least for the most part, to modernize the language in which the entries were written).

†Which contrasts with other kinds of things written by (or attributed to) Rikyū -- some of which are certainly authentic, while others are clearly forged copies (that strove to reproduce his writings faithfully), and others that are completely fraudulent. This includes several complete copies of the Chanoyu Hyaku Shu [茶湯百首] -- enough, in fact, to have given rise to the assertion that these poems were composed by Rikyū (rather than Jōō -- even though Jōō’s authorship can be verified historically by referring to the earliest manuscript collections).

‡This is especially disturbing when we consider that, during this same period, Rikyū’s own authentic writings and teachings were subject to unrelenting attacks asserting that they were fraudulent -- charges from which they have never been fully rehabilitated.

———————————————————————————————————

◎ This is the end of Book One of the Nampō Roku.

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violetsystems · 4 years

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#personal

I think everyone these days is going through a crisis of validation. Nobody knows isolation better than an only child. I’m the kind that grew up an outcast for the most part. My mom always tells me how smart and well behaved I was. I was always quiet. Never in my thoughts. That never went away. To this day people I don’t even know are used to me being comfortable enough to sit down and share my thoughts every weekend. I attend all these corporate webinars where they talk about companies controlling their “own narrative” in uncertain times. There is a lot of reaching out and face to face regardless of distance. Telepresence is such a real thing now because of the situation we are in. Business keeps happening. So does life. I’ve graduated four steps in my cloth mask adventure. Stepping up from sewing one back together left for me in the alley to finding a 3 pack of black cotton PPE’s online. Being able to read the situations around us gives you some flexibility. I’ve been up against the wall and under duress so many times in the last five years. I’ve written about the feeling. Being isolated and alone. Under inspection and violated without any judgement ever materializing from it. A trail by fire on whether or not I deserve to be left alone to live my life. I finally got that wish I guess. There’s a point when you want to curl up into a ball and sleep. Having your office in your home is a blessing and a curse that way. I’ve stuck to the same schedule I was always on. I roll out of bed regardless at five. I crawl back into bed around nine thirty. Nobody told me how to do what I needed to do. But I had some ideas from observing over the years. Working from home every day means that my kitchen is my physical office. My connection to the internet and my reliability to maintain office hours is another layer. I spent a good portion last week massaging my internet’s router and modem. Even when it goes down for an hour like on Friday, I have to run seamlessly off my phone’s LTE. The difference in speed and ping has grown to have some meaning. Just like cloud based virtual desktops and subnet math have been haunting me more than the plague. My ping from my home is under ten milliseconds. My response time to cases as they flow into my inbox is a little slower. I spent Friday evening running a virtual happy hour and going away party for one of my employees. I’m down two positions now. I’m constantly barraged with people’s feelings on the internet about employment, disease, and what they think is fair. And then there’s the work. I know a lot about work. I donated twenty dollars to the Jacobins in Brooklyn. I also bought a watch. I know what time it is usually. It was 10:56 am CST when I got that Bronze 56k drop. No masks unfortunately. Just a logo’d sweatshirt. The stussy sweater from Dover Street Market was a good look on Zoom for work. My hair is growing back to a charming style as well. I feel good about myself. That comes from self care. A process demonstrated weekly in my journal I write for you here.

Isolation doesn’t produce a lot of feedback from others. It can be an echo chamber for the things that bother you about yourself. For me the last month has really been a crisis of organization. When I close my eyes and think of everything in my apartment I can account for most of everything. If I scry back five years ago and overlay my apartment over the past it’s a way different narrative. I was messy and chaotic. I still am in spirit. I was plagued by confrontations I didn’t face. But I’ve made a lot of room for that poltergeist to dance wildly through the glass house I live in. I answered to things in my life. My health was a big one. The virtual happy hour I hosted encouraged employees to drink. I don’t drink anymore. What makes me happy these days is maintaining a moderate degree of fiscal responsibility. I can tell you how much money I wasted trying to cover up my unhappiness with myself. That’s a big motivator these days. Running makes me happy. So does staying healthy. Nurturing a culture of normality at work keeps things chill too. Everything I’ve learned from working in this situation hasn’t made me feel unsure of myself or my skills. It has made me feel overworked and drained. Appearing on camera all day doesn’t bother me. I still kind of fade into the background in large conversations. But work is work. I get tired of having to both justify my livelihood and be hidden and irrelevant at the same time. It gets harder to know in isolation when it’s time to shut the office door. For me it’s pretty easy. Because I’ve been shutting the office door and setting up boundaries slowly for years. Privacy is a mother fucker. I’ve also been fighting battles and secret wars in this city for longer than I care to remember. When I’m alone with my own thoughts its quiet and restful. So the time has helped me understanding I’m still in a process of healing. When you can sit and stare at the wall and smile to yourself without thinking anything. Nothing creeps up behind you to ruin your mood. That is the state my apartment is in at the moment. I worry less about the world and more about access to my physical record collection. If I suddenly think of an artist like Walt SImonson or John Byrne I want to be able to effortlessly remove it from the shelf. I have time to alphabetize. I have calendar reminders to sort. And once all that is done I can sit and stare at the wall even more and have room to think of more. There’s space in my mind and my heart that isn’t seeking validation from half assed sources. I have time to reflect. Time to know what’s working and what isn’t. I spend less time worrying and more time doing. Sometimes it feels like nobody is watching. Nobody is paying attention to how I live my life. Like I don’t matter to them. That doesn’t really matter when you have self confidence. It matters to me how I choose to live. What sacrifices I made and their value to me. And everything I spend my time and thoughts on matters to me as well. I don’t have to say that out loud. I project it how I live my life. I’m a leader. And most importantly I’ve had to lead myself out of darker places. Alone.

How long have I been alone? It’s a fucking mind blowing amount of time. An amount of time no one ever recognizes or listens to. Nobody has ever asked how it fucking feels. I’ve said it here. Just like I’ve transparently bore a hole in my heart for everyone to read. Has it changed things? Yes and no. Has the world changed despite of that? Yes. How hard have I been hit by these dark times? I mean if you want me to be blunt... These dark times have nothing on the depths of human shit I have witnessed. And all I can do is shrug and live them. Alone again. Ignored except by phantom accounts with strange content. Catfished by a million bots. Some of which is probably a smokescreen for some genuine reals emotion under contract of duress. Some people are just now realizing that online means something. That people are more than just flesh and bone to touch, scar and warp. Then there’s me. You know me. You know how I have felt. You know for how long. And you know nothing has changed. That I am still right here feeling like I’m wasting and rotting away. And yet I look around me and all I see is death and worry. Why the long face? Why so sad? How long have I really been alone? How psychologically emaciated am I from never being touched tenderly or told how easy I am to love? How dark can it feel to be abandoned, talked and hunted by invisible predators? To have your financial accounts prodded by hackers and scammers every week. To have your packages targeted and stolen for months. How do you think all this feels to live with and carry on your shoulders? And worse to have no one acknowledge this weight you carry in your heart. I don’t carry it alone if that’s what you are wondering. I never have. For years now, I’ve been typing away at a ghost in the machine. Hoping someone was listening to what I said. Hoping for a validation and connection. And what I realized years ago. Is that I had made a connection to something. I was alone and yet not. I looked around me and saw the old me in other people. A sadder Tim desperately trying to claw for some sort of self esteem out of every moment. Pointing the camera at myself and subjecting myself to public judgement. Years later I’ve graduated to being completely ignored. I just don’t register. I’ll never be anything more than myself. And here I am again. Another week. Same Tim. Cleaner apartment. Cooler gear. Still just as much in love with this situation as I was February 14th. Nobody is going anywhere for awhile. Including me. Which means I’m right where you want me as always. Alone in my thoughts of you. It’s a good place to be for the record. I know I’m not the only one who thinks that way. <3 Tim

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misssophiachase · 7 years

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So, I've decided to pair this next chapter of my story with an inspired prompt by the awesome @supremeuppityone. "Witches are much more dry - they pair best with a crisp Chardonnay." It actually fit so well with my already written content, so thanks, luv!

Thanks talented Paula for the amazeballs cover @howeverlongs

Part 9: Superstition

"Very superstitious, writings on the wall."

The Old Absinthe House, Bourbon St French Quarter - Friday PM

"I think I can guess whose face you're imagining on that target," Enzo whistled. Caroline regarded her sixth straight bullseye proudly before turning to face him.

"I asked if I could attach a picture for better accuracy but, given his King of New Orleans status, that sort of activity is frowned upon around here apparently," she growled, taking a shot of absinthe from the bar. Caroline felt a little woozy but wasn't surprised given she'd lost count of her alcohol intake.

"He's always had this annoying way of taking the fun out of everything," Enzo said knowingly, gesturing the barman for a drink. "Want to talk about it, gorgeous?"

"Not really," she muttered, taking a seat next to him at the bar. "I have no intention of making the same mistake as I did the first time we met."

"Oh, you mean when you bad mouthed Niklaus not knowing my identity? I don't know what you're talking about, I enjoyed myself immensely."

"I could tell," she drawled. "It doesn't matter anyway, I have no intention of wasting my time or energy on that arrogant, manipulative ass that seems to think honesty is beneath him."

"To be fair he was terrorised as a child," Enzo said, his somewhat serious tone telling her he was only half joking. "And most probably dropped on his head a few dozen times. Plus he did have to go through life with Kol, Elijah and Rebekah as siblings."

"You do realise she's your girlfriend, right?"

"We have a love hate relationship," he admitted. "Plus, it makes the sex so much more intense."

"I think I'm going to need another drink," she groaned.

"Stop changing the subject."

"I really don't want to discuss your sex life," she shot back, knocking back her drink in one go.

"As much as I'd love to boast about my sexual prowess, you know what I'm talking about, darling," he chided. "You might as well talk about it because, between you and me, all the absinthe in the world isn't going to make it go away."

"Yeah, if you believe Klaus unfortunately I'm stuck with him, forever."

Caroline was pissed, in fact she'd been pretty unbearable since escaping Celeste's clutches a fortnight ago and it wasn't just because she hated that evil cow. Klaus had lied to her, not once but twice. First, being under some love spell and now about the whole mates' bombshell. She'd gone through a gambit of emotions beginning with denial, then onto shock and back to denial. It hadn't helped matters when Bonnie and Katherine had mentioned how distressed he'd been upon finding out she was missing and that it was his mental flashes that had brought him to her rescue.

"The mating bond isn't quite so black and white." Caroline looked at him curiously. As much as she wanted to hide away from all things mate themed, she also needed to know how it worked. Caroline decided to blame that on her ignorance too because she might have been a little confused feelings wise. "You can choose to reject the bond, it isn't a compulsory attachment."

"You mean?"

"Just because Klaus has accepted it doesn't mean you have to, Caroline." Rather than be buoyed by Enzo's statement and the fact she had an exit strategy, she was far too distracted by his confirmation that Klaus had embraced their bond.

"You must be mistaken," she said dismissively, thinking the absinthe was messing with her head. "Klaus doesn't feel that way, I mean he pretended to be under a love spell..."

"He may of been acting then but that didn't mean his feelings weren't real," Enzo shared. "I'll admit, Klaus is a grumpy, impulsive bastard a lot of the time most recently while you were missing but he cares for his family and as much as you don't believe it, he cares for you too. Maybe more than you'll ever know." Caroline was silent, she wasn't sure how long for but she needed to let his words sink in properly. He loved her? He wanted to be her mate? It was all too much to comprehend, especially after so many drinks.

"He deceived me," she managed to finally bite out. "He's lied and manipulated this whole situation to his benefit at my expense. I know what kind of man he is Enzo and nothing, not even a mating bond, will ever erase that fact. We are nothing alike. He kills and schemes and makes people suffer. I can't love someone like that, I'd never let myself."

"Maybe if you spoke to him then you'd..."

"What? So he can feed me more lies?" She baulked, standing up abruptly. "I may be blonde but I'm not stupid, Enzo."

"Trust me Klaus isn't that bad a liar," he countered before realising what he'd implied. "I didn't mean you..." Caroline didn't respond, just held up a spare dart and aimed it squarely at his face. "No need to be so unfriendly, gorgeous, I was only trying to help." She threw the dart, missing his face by mere inches and watching as it sailed through the air and landed on the bullseye.

"And here I thought your witchy powers weren't quite in sync yet," he complimented her perfect aim.

"Oh, that's just me, no witchcraft required," she confirmed, puffing her chest out proudly.

"Care to teach me, darling? This could be a really neat party trick."

"Maybe another time," she answered. "I have a date with an Original Hybrid."

"Why doesn't it sound like a warm, fuzzy kind of date?"

"If he's lucky I'll bring that white oak stake..."

"Caroline."

"I'm not stupid Enzo," she growled. "I know that's the only reason you came here. Wouldn't want me killing Rebekah's brother, right? I imagine it would make things pretty awkward relationship wise."

"Believe it or not, I was telling the truth." Caroline groaned sarcastically by way of response. "Klaus is a big boy and I'm pretty sure he can take care of himself but if not just know that it will be his weakness that may well kill him."

"Weakness?"

"His mate..." She felt a sharp stabbing pain in her chest and Caroline knew she needed to leave before she betrayed any emotions. If Enzo continued she wouldn't have heard it she was gone that fast. Why did that world have to mess with her so much? All Caroline knew was that Klaus was going to pay.

Spellbound, French Quarter, Saturday AM

"So, you just kiss and leave? You're many things Bonnie Bennett but I didn't think kiss 'em and leave 'em was your style, darling," Kol chided, carefully reading the potion labels stacked neatly on the shelf. Why he couldn't just buy something instead of persusing the merchandise she'd never understand.

"I was under duress."

"Most people cry or freak out not assault the nearest warm body."

"Assault?" She baulked, unable to keep her composure from his smug ass. Inventory was well and truly on the back burner for now. "You certainly weren't complaining from memory, Mikaelson."

"I was in shock," he scoffed, rifling through the incense and picking up selected sticks to smell. The dimples he was flashing slyly in her direction were telling Bonnie the last state he was in was shock.

"I'm going to have to start an incense tab if you insist on stealing it every time," she growled. "Now, does this little visit have a purpose?"

"I'm worried about the witch."

"You're going to have to be more specific, after all there are a few of us in these parts."

"Your little friend Caroline," he huffed impatiently. "I'm concerned about her state of mind and given certain complications..."

"That's an interesting way to describe a white oak stake," Bonnie chuckled.

"So you know about it?"

"I'm not at all interested in playing this game."

"Sounds familiar," he drawled, dropping the incense.

"I'm so sick of the Mikaelson family using manipulation to further their causes at the expense of everyone else. Quite frankly it's getting old Kol and I have no intention of playing anymore. To be honest, I'm just too exhausted."

"That's rich," he accused. "You played games the moment you abandoned me because I was a Mikaelson and wasn't good enough." Bonnie inhaled sharply, doing all she could to keep her composure, even if her frazzled insides were telling another story.

"You have a funny rendition of history. And given the way you're acting right now it was probably the best decision I've ever made." It was cruel yes, she noticed him wince slightly before maintaining his usual steeley composure.

"And you are a bad liar."

"Excuse me?"

"Your heart betrays you everytime Bonnie."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"I can hear you," he murmured, his brown eyes searching hers. She didn't respond immediately, too worked up and confused by his comment. He moved closer, his gaze never faltering. "I can hear everything." Before she could question him further, he placed his hand on her racing heart gently. She was fairly certain that the world stopped at that very moment. She loved the evil bastard and there was nothing she could do about it.

"We have an emergency."

"You always did have impeccable timing big brother," Kol growled, moving his hand away awkwardly.

"I specifically said wait for the right moment," Katherine chided, giving Elijah an annoyed eyeroll for extra effect. "That right there is cliffhanger territory and now I'm going to have to wait for the next episode."

"I'm sorry if we have more pressing issues right now, Miss Pierce," Elijah scowled. "If your friend succeeds in her revenge, that white oak stake could wipe out a whole blood line of vampires. The repercussions will be immense."

"And like I said that effects us how exactly?" Katherine baulked.

"Ms Bennett might like to explain the logistics further..." Katherine's gaze flew to Bonnie, so too Kol. She'd never imagined the truth would come out like this but knowing what Bonnie knew she needed to stop her friend from something they would all regret for different reasons.

Couturie Forrest, New Orleans - Saturday PM

"I'm actually surprised you agreed to see me after what transpired..."

"Oh you mean after you lied for the second time." Caroline cut him off tersely, pulling out the variety of foods she'd prepared in a flurry of nerves, denial and shock from the picnic basket, the white oak stake hidden safely in the corner.

"I was wrong," he conceded, his blue eyes pleading with hers silently. "I may have walked this earth for over a thousand years but still don't have the ability to deal with unexpected emotions."

"Like being mates?"

"Exactly like that.."

"I assumed you knew all along," Caroline murmured.

"I'll admit, it wasn't until we kissed at the cemetery that it all fell into place," he promised. "I'd been drawn to you for a while before that though.."

"Was that during your whole stalking phase?"

"I don't blame you for being hostile, this was a shock to me at the time and I'll admit I haven't handled things in the best possible way but I'm willing to address these matters now."

"Wine?" She mumbled, shoving the glass bottle into his chest before he could continue. Caroline had no intention of entertaining any unexpected and unwanted emotions. Klaus Mikaelson had already done enough damage. He didn't respond immediately, just poured the golden liquid equally into the two glasses.

"I didn't take you for the chardonnay type, love."

"Witches are much more dry, they pair best with a crisp Chardonnay."

"Now it all makes perfect sense," he teased, holding up his glass and clinking it with hers. "Do you think that's a rightful toast?" Caroline was struggling to concentrate, his blue eyes were boring into hers, his spicy scent was infiltrating her nostrils unwelcomingly and the walls she'd built were close to crashing into a million pieces. She decided then and there that the mating bond was pure evil.

"How about we drink to honesty," she offered, noticing his eyes downcast. Someone was obviously feeling a little guilty.

"You want honesty?" He asked, placing his glass on the ground. Caroline silently cursed his actions given they interfered with her ultimate plan. "I don't know much about love and I was an idiot and went about this the wrong way but it's only because I.."

"Cheers," Caroline intervened, clinking her glass with his, the L word would have well and truly thrown her off course and that was the last thing she needed. "I'll drink to that." He didn't respond at first just regarded her dubiously then lifted the glass and took a sip.

"I had that vision of us being in Couturie Forest when you were missing and then you suggested this outing today so I knew we were on the same wavelength."

"What?" Caroline squeaked, suddenly annoyed he'd fallen into her trap so swiftly. "You saw us here?"

"We were having a picnic but I don't recall the chardonnay, hence my surprise," he chuckled. She wanted to steal his glass and continue with the conversation but given the truth serum she'd used and its potency, Caroline knew it would soon be too late. What had she gotten herself into?

xxxx

"If I'd known we were going cross country, I would have worn more appropriate footwear," Katherine whined.

"And I would have gone to the gym a few more times," Kol complained. "What the hell are we doing in the middle of nowhere?"

"You invited her," Bonnie accused at the same time Elijah chimed into the conversation.

"You invited him and given your history I assumed you'd know his physical limitations." Bonnie was tempted to react defensively but it was obvious the Mikaelson family gossip had gone full circle and she figured this was extra ammunition to torture the unfortunately loveable idiot senseless afterwards.

xxxx

"I love you," he murmured, squeezing her hand affectionately, his blue eyes staring earnestly into hers. She'd asked him multiple questions hoping that she was right and he would be the heartless bastard she expected. At least then she could move on freely.

"You what?" Caroline squeaked, pulling her hand away shakily. It was one thing when he was pretending to be in love with her but now the truth serum she'd secretly administered in revenge had well and truly set in, the results were more frightening than she'd ever imagined.

"You're my mate..."

"And that's why you love me?"

"No," he insisted. "I loved you before I even knew you were my mate."

"Why?"

"I related to your life experiences," he began. "You felt like an outcast, so did I, every day of my life. My father killed my pet horse on my birthday without an apology and you may have been scared of the dark but it was the light that taunted me as a young boy."

"I..." she was paralysed with something resembling shock and fear. The way he was swaying slightly, his words beginning to slur, Caroline knew she'd gone too far in pursuit of the truth.

"When the world seems to shine like you've had to much wine..." he sang loudly, breaking into a loud chuckle before he could finish the lyrics. Obviously truth serum plus alcohol was a pretty potent combination unbeknownst to the young and inexperienced witch. Caroline was madly trying to fix the situation when a familiar voice interrupted.

"You spiked the wine!" Elijah drawled. "You sneaky..."

"Witch?" Kol finished.

"Not helping."

"Well, between you and me I'm rather enjoying this little display," Kol offered. "Niklaus is always so bloody highly strung."

"I am fun with a capital F," he interrupted drunkenly, sending a wink in his sibling's direction. "Now, can someone please pass me more wine?"

"I think you've had enough," Elijah shot back, rolling his eyes as she did it.

"You're no fun, dad," he teased, attempting to reach for the bottle but failing clumsily.

"Yeah Elijah, let him have more wine. I for one am enjoying this immensely," Kol teased. "I'm just waiting for him to start dancing badly so I can take incriminating pictures for blackmailing purposes."

"Has anyone suggested some serious family therapy?" Katherine interrupted. "Because from what I can see there's ample cause for it."

"Sweet Caroline," Klaus sang, badly off key. "Good times never seemed so good..."

"This isn't finished Ms Forbes," Elijah grunted, his arm linking with his brothers and guiding him away, Kol at his side. Bonnie and Katherine held her hands comfortingly but at that moment she was far too confused. One because of what she'd done and two because her whole body ached now Klaus was gone.

On FF HERE

#superstition #spellbound #part 9 #thanks paula #howeverlongs #for the beautiful cover #mwah #only two chapters to go

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