#warden molly would be so fun

[flashhwing]

suddenly had a vision of warden molly and now I’m sad there’s no tieflings in dragon age

[thegoldenreport]

MENTAL KINETIC

“...are you recording?”

“Yeah.”

“Lyness was telling me he saw lights in the window, north wall I think.”

“Lyness sees all sorts of things…”

-

“Did you hear the song?”

“Who hasn’t?”

“I’d have expected more.”

-

“Which entrance?”

“I’m not sure.”

“What?! How we ‘sposed to get in here?”

“This place’s been abandoned for years, all the doors are probably locked anyways. I guess I’m just looking for an opportunity!”

“...get down!”

-

“Go, go, go!”

“Hold on, wait up!”

-

 “What were you thinking?!”

“I saw an opportunity and I took it.”

“It’s so cold in here.”

“Observant.”

“Shut up.”

“Come on, I think they went this way.”

“Ah yes, follow the hooded children, I love that.”

-

“You, the uninitiated, the uninformed. Do you have the elasticity to see what is beyond and bend the very nature of this physical realm?”

“They aren’t real, Miss Scorvo.”

“Yeah, we caught them lost in the third apex”

“I’ll be the one who decides. If they are lost, they will learn. Relinquish your holds.”

“Aghh! …shit!”

“Get up.”

-

“The basics of mentalism lie in the power to operate form. Please watch closely.”

“How are there so many of you?”

“The light brings, whom the light brings.”

“Woah. Hey! Please, you don’t need to do that.”

“Then do not interrupt me...”

-

“This is absolutely batshit insane.”

“I’ve been planning our escape.”

“Why would you do that for?”

“I-uh…um. I wasn’t talking to you.”

“I mean you can leave when school’s out.”

“When is that?”

“Tomorrow. Are you gonna use that scrap? I’d like to practice my lifting.”

-

“You’re trying too hard, that’s why nothing’s happening.”

“I don’t think I’m psychic.”

“Psychics don’t exist, at least not the ones you think of. Get that word out of your brain. This is something different. Something everyone can tap into.”

“Mentalism…right.”

“Think without thinking.”

-

“So how did you guys…get started?”

“We heard the song. They were the first.”

“You mean the song that hasn’t stopped playing.”

“That’s the one. It’s a great reminder to stay focused on what’s important.”

“And what’s that?”

“Terrace is changing his face again. Would you like to come see?”

-

“I can teach you to be your own glitch. An insult to reality.”

“That’s…cool.”

-

“Where’s the exit? How long has it been?!”

“Woah, woah, woah, now what is the matter? I can’t have you wandering the halls alone like this. You’ll miss your next class.”

“The song…won’t…stop. What are you doing to us?”

“Darling, I am your teacher. Not your warden. There is a difference.”

“Come on, Molly. Levitation’s gonna be so much fun!

-

“I’ve never felt so light. I…I…think I did this in a dream once.”

“You probably did. There are strange truths in dreams.”

“This is incredible.”

“Don’t go too high now.”

-

“Thank you for being so willing.”

“It’s been hard, but we’ve learned so much.”

“Yeah, my brain is definitely…unlocked or something.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Will I see you both tomorrow?”

“Of course! Of course.”

“Of course!”

“...of course.”

[thessalian]

Thess vs Screenshare Chat

Last night, as we were not having shenanigans (though at least two out of three have now provided me with all the information I need to run a short bit of session, which is good), I needed the following:

Something engaging enough to be fun but not fiddly enough to be painful

To talk to a human being that wasn’t a colleague or the guy at my local corner shop

So Meep!Warden was out (too fiddly, and not good for conversational background). Which meant the next option was to start my first Molly!Hawke playthrough with a full, 100%, all-DLC completion Warden to import to form the world state. So I could get through Lothering and talk to @true0neutral more or less at the same time, which is what I generally do when I need human companionship because I lost the knack of just talking without something else to do ages ago. I dislike being on the phone or any kind of voice chat without something to do with my hands. Also I screenshare so @true0neutral gets to watch me stab darkspawns’ spines out through their abdomens.

Anyway, discussion went to cover the Dragon Age franchise from the point of view of “writer with a tendency to dissect everything” and “someone studying game development”. Which was fun.

Disappointment in the progression of darkspawn model design largely explained with, “They keep saying how the DA franchise is about the world rather than the specific characters and focus on the darkspawn died with the Blight, especially if you killed the Architect”. Then the realisation that you only really had a Blight in the first place to make Corypheus a bit more comprehensible, and Corypheus himself was only there to usher in Solas / Fen’harel.

Armour and clothing design, and how sometimes it gets deeply, deeply stupid (I mean, I get that you need to hide neck seams because those are the worst in development, but in which case maybe don’t have so many of your NPCs wear off-the-shoulder shit that involves having this stupid leather neckpiece? And the design of Templar armour, if you look at it closely, is just stupid.)

That whole thing derived from, “I get they want to make it really obvious that Wesley got injured but a slash from waist to shoulder along the back of someone in full armour is probably not going to do that much damage, as the blade would get bound up on straps, metal, or both. You can make a stab obvious enough to get by but please stop pretending armour isn’t a thing!” (See also: Aveline putting a dagger through an armour chest plate to mercy-kill Wesley. I get that we’re going for drama but common fucking sense would be nice too.)

How honestly this does feel like a bit of a disconnect between the writers and the dev team as much as anything else, and how there should be regular weekly meetings before they get very far past the pitch stage just to make sure that art and writer expectations mesh well. Same with dev team and concept artists; regular checks of things like, “Can we do this?” “We’ve tried to do this and it looks horrific; where can we adjust expectations?” etc.

How despite all of this, Dragon Age 2 is a great game that did a lot better with subverting the traditional Hero’s Journey expectations of a game than, say, the ending of Mass Effect 3. I’d rather have the anticlimax of whittling down Meredith’s health bar only to have her red lyrium sword shatter and turn her to lyrium, thereby denying me the killing blow, than end up with the last bit of combat being Marauder Shields before ten minutes of slow limping and transhumanist rambling that never once takes into account the notion of getting the rest of the galaxy’s consent for the whole “synthetics and organics become one” thing.

(For the record, I can see the advantages; it’s not like I’m against transhumanism in general. My issue with all of that was consent. Killing or controlling the Reapers? That’s between you and the Reapers. Modifying the genetics of every member of every sapient species in the galaxy? I want informed and enthusiastic consent before I do that to, like, septillions of people. But we don’t get a dialogue option for that.)

Anyway, also, “Warrior or Rogue Hawke answers the Call to Adventure by going to Ostagar, flees the Call to Adventure screaming NOPE when Loghain’s forces withdrew, and then found that the Call to Adventure followed them across the Waking Sea and keeps banging on their door like they owe it money” being our jam as far as subverting the traditional Hero’s Journey.

The writing potential inherent in Hawke, on the way to Weisshaupt or wherever, trying to explain this whole mess to an interested third party (possibly, like, Finn from Witch Hunt).

And finally, the realisation that, particularly with the lead writing role passing to Patrick Weekes, and the general necessity to cram in whatever possible from ancillary media (books, comics, etc), it’s highly likely that if we ever do get any kinds of answers to any of the mysteries that Thedas has to offer ... they’re going to contradict each other in some way. Hell, enough of the lore does already that I still kind of want to shake people (how the Dalish treat mage-talented clan members, for instance ... and honestly anything to do with elves).

I still hurt, but mentally and emotionally I feel a bit better. Honestly, I’d probably have felt better even if we hadn’t had such an interesting conversation. It’s the cat thing; I’m happy just having someone share my space, virtually or otherwise, not doing much of anything but maybe making the occasional comment. Which is a lot of how it happens when we do that sort of thing but I was having a thinky sort of day yesterday, I guess, so hey.

[myths-of-fantasy]

Snippet 7 - A Place to Call Home Pt. 2

For a group of cats that live mostly separate, they sure group up a lot, Rusty mused to himself looking at the large collection of cats.

Myna had groaned and whined when Rusty had announced that they would be leaving to meet other cats upon her return but had eaten her prey and walked with them. They didn’t see any other cats as Willow led them in a seemingly random direction into the middle of the forest, but Rusty smelled a lot of them. He felt eyes on his pelt and concluded that they were being followed to this place where the paws dwelled.

“There are a lot of paw places,” said Willow. “But this is where the paws of the Kindra Sector and the Sector of Typhus usually meet. Cats from the Zephyr Sector and cats from the Umber Sector join them sometimes but we haven’t seen any umbers since Raggedstar was named Overseer.”

“Is that unusual?” Myna asked.

“A bit yes,” said Willow. “We older cats tend to keep our friends within the sectors unless we’re planning to move, but the paws are usually very friendly.”

“Oh joy,” said Kite dryly.

“Don’t mind her,” said Myna rolling her eyes. “Kite would spend everyday curled in a hole if we left her.”

“And I do wish you’d let me,” Kite said with a wistful sigh.

Gray snickered at her while Willow gestured with her tail to the clearing ahead. There were a collection of smooth gray rocks laying in what Rusty thinks might be the only sky visible section of the forest, soaking up sunlight with cats sprawled on every available surface.

“These are the Sunningrocks,” said Willow. “Bluestar and Stormstar negotiated an agreement near the beginning of their leaderships and it’s been neutral ground ever since. “

“There was a huge uproar when it was announced at the Gathering,” Gray said with a mischievous grin. “If you can find the elder’s district, you should ask them about it. Dappleri always tells the story so dramatically.”

“Let the elders have their fun,” chuckled Willow. “Sunningrocks has been a point of tension between Typhus and Kindra since the river tentatively rerouted - before The Separation, we used to fight each other over these stones.”

“Over some rocks?” said Kite, unimpressed.

“It was more of a boundary dispute,” Willow informed. “The area around Sunningrocks gave Kindra a significant amount more hunting territory - but the Typhus lost that territory. Kindra argued that the river was Typhus’ territory and the only reason they had Sunningrocks before was because it was surrounded by water. Typhus said that Sunningrocks had always belonged to them and therefore, they should keep it even though the river changed.”

“Seems silly but then again, I didn’t live through it,” Kite decided, flicking her ear.

“I’m certainly glad that Bluestar and Stormstar put a stop to all that,” Willow agreed. “Lives have been lost over Sunningrocks.”

Their conversation carried them the last few legs of the distance to Sunningrocks where cats glanced up at them curiously.

“I’m going to go sit with the adults,” Willow said, flicking her tail to a collection of cats near the river. “Stay within sight Gray.”

“Yes mom,” he agreed and started up the rocks.

“Hey Grayir,” purred a silver molly, lounging on her back.

“Hey Silverir,” he responded.

“Who are your friends?”

“I’m Rusty,” he spoke up. “And those are my sisters - Kite and Myna.”

“Odd one out with that name,” Silver giggled. ��Two birds and a tarnished metal?”

“Two birds and a color,” Rusty corrected as Kite slumped down onto the warm rocks.

“Mmm…” she hummed. “Alright, I can see why wars were waged over these rocks.”

“They do feel nice,” agreed Rusty, settling beside her.

He purred lightly, enjoying the sun seeping into his pelt without the threat of a farcreature attacking him. Rusty had honestly taken their home sanctuary for granted when he was a young kit, naive and ignorant to the struggles of those who walk the world without magical borders and border wardens to protect them.

“Hey guys, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

Rusty cracked open one eye, “Does it require me getting up?”

“No.”

“Then I’m willing to meet him.”

Gray laughed prodding him into opening both of his eyes. Rusty at least gave him that respect, wincing when the sun hit his previously covered eye. As soon as his vision cleared, he noted a lanky brown tom with pale violet eyes and a white tipped tail.

“...he’s cute,” slipped out of Rusty’s mouth making the new tom yelp and hide his face in Gray’s pelt.

“He is, isn’t he?” Gray laughed. “This is Raven - he’s my best friend.  Raven these are my new friends - the tura I got in trouble for.”

“Woah,” said Silver, quickly sitting up. “You didn’t tell me you brought a few tura - can they do anything cool?”

“I don’t know,” admitted Gray. “I assume so - Bluestar seemed really angry so they must be strong in some capacity.”

“There will be no magic demonstrations today,” said Kite. “It’s way more peaceful here than out there and we have no intentions of getting kicked out if we can avoid it.”

“That’s fair,” Gray admitted.

“Well if you don’t want to do magic, but Raven is here, who’s up for a swim?” said Silver, grinning brightly.

“Ew,” said Myna even as Kite clambered to her paws.

“Sure,” she purred. “Rusty? You coming?”

“And leave these warm rocks? No way.”

“Alright, have fun!”

Rusty watched from his position laying down as Kite darted off after Silver towards the river, quickly beginning to splash about in the shallows and giggling loudly. Raven and Gray settled beside him and Myna, starting up a conversation.

He sighed happily and thanked his family’s sacrifice. It seemed now they had a place to rest.

[wickedsrest-rp-archive]

Welcome to this week’s roundup! We do these every week to provide plot drops, highlight starters posted that week, and share other information about the setting. Anyone is welcome to use these bullet points in starters, plots, anons etc. Also let us know if you want us to include one of your setting-related plots in here for next week by sending us a bullet point!

We just wanted to let you know that due to busy-ness, we skipped the WCW last week and won’t be having one next week. However, we’ll be back to regular schedule after that. Thank you!

What’s new in town?:

Something fishy is going on with time in our new POTW. Astral and dimensional madness are still in full swing as well.

Molly Teller is cheerfully selling goods from her farm at Nightshade Farmer’s Market. The eggs are extra tasty, just be sure not to let them hatch. 

A string of bodies are being found along the main roads downtown. A few witnesses have spoke of seeing seven foot tall people seemingly drop from the sky and attacking.

Local vegetarians and residents who just happen to appreciate the cuisine are up in arms. Veggie Tables location is prone to rewinding a few decades every so often... which would be fine if it was still a vegetarian restaurant with an 80s theme, but steak house is not the vibe Veggie Tables clientele is going for. 

Starters: 

Does anyone have experience with velvet worms? Sage could use a helping hand! 

Are you hiring or know of someone who is? Help Crow find a job. 

Baz needs a pick me up. Join them at Central Station to “help” all the lost travelers.

Levi is dealing with some giant pests thanks to the lighthouse light being pranked. Help it get rid of a giant moth. 

Mateo says when in Maine, eat the giant lobsters. Who wants to help catch one and have the biggest lobster roll ever? 

Rhett needs a boat so he can scope out the ghost boats. Help a warden out! 

Correy needs to know how to permanently break a light. For some reason, he’s not too big on lights or lanterns?

Bees? Ulfric needs them up outta his stove while he’s working. Any tips for humanely getting them to go away is appreciated. 

After finishing up a ton of paperwork, Portia can’t even enjoy the outdoors with the fishy smell. Anyone got any idea what’s going down or good indoor activities? 

Feeling artsy? Reach out to Metzli to have your work featured at the gallery! 

Ren Faire or literal blast to the past? Ari isn’t here for her TikToks being interrupted. Give her a heads up on how to avoid the past pockets.

Know someone who forges weapons? Send Marina their way so she can get a dope custom made knife for her new bestie.

Lil’s phone is back and she’s ready to get out of the house. Someone should show her some demon-free fun. Or demon-filled. 

Winn is back and has some friendly advice, just skip the beach. The lobstrocities aren’t worth it. 

Meanwhile Caoihme is recruiting plucky, hockey-stick wielding volunteers to fight some lobstrocities. 

[winterladymolly]

The young warden rubbed his head gently where a goose egg of a lump was forming before reaching down to grab his stetson off the ground, fixing the dent caused by the falling sign. "Yeah, you're very smart, now shut up. Nothin' worse'n 'I tol' you so's."

The look that Molly gave him relayed that she’d been thinking exactly that. The faint smile on her lips was almost mocking in her effort to not say something snarky and slightly offensive. That she’d been right was bad enough, and any input to any degree was likely not going to be taken well. Instead, she sighed a bit. Reorganized her thoughts, and asked, “Would you like an ice pack or something? Maybe a bag of frozen peas? At the very least some Advil, because the headache that’s going to kick in soon isn’t going to be fun.”

[greensconnor]

i’m asking about your dragon age characters

molly i would KILL for u im ur personal hitman now

anyway i said my city now because the entire bioware writing team sucks shit xoxo and i’m so much smarter than all of them but also fully incapable of having a normal amount of ocs for anything (see: the time i made 20 rwby ocs in less than two weeks) so i have. five worldstates here r some assorted thoughts

uhhh so the worldstates r as follows

eira mahariel (two-handed berserk/champ spec), rhett hawke (two-handed berserk spec), alas lavellan (mage knight enchanter spec), romanced alistair/fenris/dorian respectively

shiv tabris (dual wield duelist/assassin spec), radella “rads” hawke (mage spirit healer spec), kat adaar (two-handed reaver spec), romanced morrigan/isabela/cassandra respectively because im a pc gamer and i think i should be able to date whatever video game woman i like because im infinitely better than cishet men

this world state said yeah i respect mens rights. mens rights to shut the fuck up

twins bronson (sword/shield reaver spec) & bryant cousland (archer ranger spec), carmine hawke (archer assassin spec), syracuse trevelyan (dual wield tempest spec), romanced zevran/anora/josephine/bull. if ur wondering how that works my city now and the warden, hawke and the inquisitor should all meet and so they do because i Said So

riva amell (mage arcane warrior/battlemage spec), graham “gray” hawke (mage force spec), hellathen “hela” lavellan (archer assassin spec); romanced cullen/anders and later blackwall because hawke only likes men who will break his heart. hela doesn’t have a romance because she’s literally 20. who let her lead the inquisition (me it was me). also it should be noted the version of cullen i have in my head only vaguely resembles actual cullen because i write better than dragon age writers ever could and i gave him an Actual Cohesive Narrative and he gets bullied relentlessly for being scrawnier than his mage boyfriend

malien “mal” surana (mage spirit healer/keeper spec), jules hawke (sword/shield reaver spec), ash adaar (mage rift spec), romanced leliana/merrill/krem because i should have been able to kiss krem and its a Crime that i am not allowed to

knight enchanter is a Very op specialization and by Very op i mean it makes a mage with their built-in low constitution stats able to solo the biggest baddest dragon in the game on nightmare mode in under five minutes so like. alas lavellan fist fights dragons for fun send tweet

i think lavellans should be able to hit ppl with bricks for all the shit they endure. thus solas gets pranked by mahariel and alas by which i mean they just tip buckets of water onto him from the rookery

kat might be my only competent inquisitor but she did also try to knock out the right hand of the divine and attempt to gap even tho there’s fucky magic burning up her hand so does she have a brain cell? you decide

also its fantasy land and i do what i want so kat has blue/gold sectoral heterochromia

gray “mage rights” hawke is best friends with fenris which surprises literally everyone. their friendship started because they got into a fist fight and then they were like okay i respect u now. hawke is like hey fenris give me ur sword i have a fun trick to show u [uses his sword as a foci to zap carver in the ass with lightning]

i am Always thinking abt like how cullen could have been one man anti-chantry propaganda machine if he hadn’t so blatantly been shoehorned into every game past origins so anyway bioware forgot about a wholeass moon i can write what i like. [holds up cullen by the scruff of his stupid armor] not only are you bisexual you are also a bottom

i also Hate the whole uwu mage haters get fixed by romancing a mage

unlocked secret dialogue option where my inquisitors verbally cuss out dorian’s dad instead of whatever sympathetic narrative the writers were going for cuz its bullshit.

riva is a showoff and a Menace about being as good as he is because he unabashedly loves being a mage and hes like oooh look at me im sexy i dont need to use my hands to cast magic because i’m just that good ;)) and you know what. hes right.

gray, on the other hand, does Not want to be mage. he wants to be a druffalo farmer and retire in the hinterlands and be left the fuck alone. unfortunately he is gay and has one brain cell and terrible, terrible taste in men. ribbed relentlessly for this by riva (altho does he have room to talk hes been hung up on cullen since he was like 13)

shiv is trans n kieran is the result of doing the dark ritual with her wife and he looks a Lot like shiv (dark skin pointed ears, shock-white hair) and morrigan always just Assumed she dyed it or did something magic with it so seeing their kid come out like that was a WEIRD time for her

leliana almost Murdered by cassandra in worldstate 5 because the warden is Actually There The Whole Time, but its been 10 years, mal’s cut off all her hair and gotten full facial tattoos and she’s like “no one will know its me its fine” and she’s right. she gets away with it. only cullen like, Knows, because he knew her before the blight but he doesnt have a death wish n he like. will Not piss her off

shes dalish by birth n she was stolen from her clan by templars and thus is vehemently anti-circle and anti-chantry in general

uhhh the vallaslin (elf face tattoos) of my 4 dalish characters are:

eira = ghilan’nain (chose em cuz shes rlly interested in the navigation aspect of the goddess)

alas = falon’din (god of the dead n he picked them because he’s Also the god of fortune and alas is like tee hee fun but also he can and will kill u if u fuck with him so yk its fitting)

hela = june (god of the craft bc she likes to Make things but june is also the god who taught the elves 2 hunt and hela is. a hunter.)

mal = elgar’nan (allfather/god of vengeance bc. she is Vengeful. she is Angry. but yk fucking with shem politics and fucking their divine is like. mal may have little a retribution. as a treat.) yes she has the full half-face solid colour tattoo she does NOT fuck around.

bronson and bryant r not genetically identical but they Look similar enough 2 anyone who doesn’t know them well enough 2 play spot the distance. anora and bronson think this is a super fun game to play, especially when nobles realize they’ve swapped out the king but they’re too nervous to say anything

eira mahariel has two hands. one is for holding hands with alistair and the other is for throttling elven gods, apparently. she’s killed one before so solas she’s coming for your bitch ass next. watch urself.

speaking of eira and alistair are married thru dalish tradition and humans don’t recognize it n alistair loves 2 re-propose to her with random things. he’ll just pick up like. a bit of cheese and be like “marry me ;)” and she’s like GASP but whatever will the chantry say!!!! all of their friends r sick of them

“vhenan if you love me bring me a sword” “you think i could do better than a sword made out of space rock?” “:)”

eira is my youngest hero at 18 at the start of her game and kat is my oldest at 32 at the start of her game.

none of my hawkes are under six foot. rhett is the tallest (6′8″) and rads is the shortest (6′2″).

syracuse trevelyan would have been the Perfect inquisitor if he were not a pretty boy himbo and a gay bastard who does Most Things just to spite his parents.

[corypheus pointing at syracuse’s visage in his crystal orb thingo] i want that twink obliterated

i love the companions from older games return thing i truly do so i make it a point for Every companion to return in inquisition so the gang rlly is all here because i am a Slutte for found family

i lie in my keep worldstates because i dont want to choose between hawke and alistair during here lies the abyss but i never make him king and every time i play inquisition and cole has the wicked grace line it makes me Scream. alistair baby im so sorry i did this to you but i didnt actually do this to you

yes this is my everyone lives au but like. all the time. i have never left hawke in the fade and i do not intend to.

fuck whatever nonsense about wardens not being able 2 have kids. by sheer divine power (me) anora and bryant have three daughters; eleanor, sabina & cecelia n both bronson and zevran make Excellent uncles because i think anora deserves good things because i’m tired of bioware being like women bad, actually,

so like most of the time i have the warden & hawke turning up after the move to skyhold n then staying on, with the exception of bryant, carmine & mal. mal is as mentioned previously just There the whole time with her girlfriend. bryant steps in as king of ferelden w/ interests in closing the big hole in the sky spewing demons in2 his kingdom yk. carmine shows up because she wants to help & she wants protection for bethany but she outright says she’d rather die than be inquisitor so cassandra is shit out of luck.

“CHANGE HER MIND VARRIC” “she once doubled down on insisting amaranth was a shade of blue because she didn’t want to admit to being wrong. no one’s changing her mind seeker”

alas is the middle child of eight and is thus very good with children and also bossing around people older than him. 2 of his older siblings come to the inquisition when stuff in wycome has been settled

i left ash with the basic canon background with Some variation (he grew up under the qun and left of his own free will when his magic was discovered n he realized he couldn’t take living as a saarebas

kat on the other hand was raised tal-vashoth and has bounced around basically all over thedas and leads her own merc company when the conclave blows up. she also speaks multiple languages. is there a language she doesn’t speak? probably not

just realized how long this got so im gonna like. stop my general rambling now but lmao yeah theres some basics. waves hands.

[asgardian--angels]

Calling All LOTR fans! Why aren’t you on LOTRO yet??

Hey everyone! It’s Molly here - aka, Sauron’s #1 fan lmao. 

Now, we’re a big fandom, between LOTR and the Hobbit and the Silm, there’s millions of us out there, and thousands on Tumblr! And we’re always looking for new ways to experience and interact with Tolkien’s legendarium. Plus, many of us have an overlapping interest in gaming, of any sort. But even if you don’t - read on, I implore you! 

There’s an incredibly awesome free MMORPG out there, one that I’ve been playing for years. It’s called LOTRO - Lord of the Rings Online - and it’s gotta be my absolute favorite interpretation of Middle-Earth ever. 

For those not aware, an MMORPG is a massively multiplayer online roleplaying game, basically an open world PC game that has thousands of other users you can interact with within the confines of the game’s universe. And in this case, that’s Middle-Earth! 

Everything you know and love about Tolkien’s world is brought to life in stunning thoughtful detail, from the rolling hills of the Shire to the eaves of Fangorn and beyond. You become an integral part of the story of Middle-Earth, assisting the Fellowship both directly and in the littler ways that count most of all - staving off the forces of darkness by doing good deeds and helping the folk of Eriador, Rhovanion, and Gondor. Everything you do ripples outwards to influence the fate of Arda itself! Without you, there would be no hope for the Fellowship to succeed in its dire quest. Traveling from land to land, you become beloved and treasured as a hero by all the free peoples of Middle-Earth, royal and common folk alike. While you may start out small, soon your path will bring you to the feet of great lords and kings, and onto the very doorstep of Mordor itself, where the Dark Lord awaits. Fight the fell beasts of Sauron, skip through the Old Forest with Tom Bombadil, and ride your warsteed across the vast open plains of Rohan - the world is yours to explore, and to save, if you can. Middle-Earth depends on you.

I truly can’t overstate how much I love LOTRO. I’ve been playing for five years now and I am just as much in love with it as the day I first started. It’s always a little dicey, as a Tolkien fan, especially if you’re a highly devoted one, trying to judge and decide if an interpretation of his work will enhance your experience or ruin it - you just want to see justice done by him and everything he stood for. Trust me, I’m like that too (there’s no need to talk about a certain upcoming Amazon series...). So believe me when I tell you that the spirit of Tolkien comes alive in this game. The creators, writers, and designers of LOTRO have put so much thought and care, and heart, into staying true to Tolkien’s vision and messages. Great attention and care is paid with respect to accuracy to the lore and languages Tolkien created as well, something that cements the authenticity of LOTRO for diehard fans. You just feel good playing it (and honestly, I feel like it’s helped my self-esteem?? Those little virtual hobbits are so grateful for everything you do). Warm fuzzies all around. With a fair helping of angst, can’t forget that. Not all stories can have happy endings, but with your help, a whole lot of them can. 

So... maybe you’ve read this far, and are a teensy bit interested? Or at least intrigued. This is a chance to expand the world of Tolkien to something you can actually immerse yourself in, be a part of, explore like never before! Wander the cobblestone streets of Bree, smell the pipe-smoke in the Prancing Pony, feel the chill winds of the icy wastes of Forochel upon your face. Do you have the guts to face the Witch-King himself? 

LOTRO has so much to offer! Whether you are interested from a gaming perspective, or a story perspective, it’s endless fun. Before LOTRO I’d never played an MMO, and I certainly would not consider myself a gamer. I came from a love of Middle-Earth, and came for a chance to see that story brought to life. So don’t count it out if you think you’re not up for some hardcore gaming lifestyle - this game has the pace that you set for it. Whether you join a social kinship and roleplay, a raid group to do skirmishes, or go it alone and fish the day away, the possibilities are endless. 

Plus, I feel like it’s worth stating that the scenery in LOTRO is astoundingly beautiful. It’s not uncommon for my friends and I to ride around just for the view. And you know what else? The music, guys. Just, the music. LOTRO has been blessed these many years with composer Chance Thomas, who has crafted some of the best soundtracks I’ve ever heard - comparable to those of the Lord of the Rings films themselves. He truly encapsulates the emotions, the grandeur, the coziness, the uneasiness, the dread and the joy, of every corner of Middle-Earth. (It’s so well-loved by players that TWO official soundtracks were even put out, and I play them in my car all the time, ngl. Check out one of the Rohan tracks here!)

So, for the nitty gritty that you may be wondering about! This is a great time to join LOTRO. Over the years, the game has grown tremendously, adding more regions of Middle-Earth to quest in, building more storylines, and expanding the characters you can have, the clothes you can wear, and the activities you can do! Currently, you can play several races - Man, Dwarf, Elf, High Elf, Hobbit, and Beorning - as well as a wide variety of classes - hunter, lore-master, rune-keeper, burglar, champion, minstrel, captain, guardian, and warden- each with their own unique stories and abilities. Multiple characters can be created for free on one account. There’s a wide customization capability for characters and cosmetic items, for housing, steeds, emotes, pets, and more. That’s part of what makes LOTRO so fun! Most expansions can be purchased in-game using points earned by completing deeds, making LOTRO affordable and FTP (free to play) for a large proportion of its content. Additionally, we have an incredibly thorough and comprehensive Wiki-style website for all LOTRO-related information. This is an incredibly knowledgeable and welcoming community.

...Did I add that there’s maiar in the game too? If you have a keen eye you’ll spot them.

Molly why are really you making this post?

Now, earlier I mentioned kinships. Traveling Middle-Earth can often be more fun with others, and having friends can help you learn the game and offer advice and insight. They can be roleplay partners, band members (yes, you can play instruments in the game!), or just buddies to talk to. Many LOTRO players are in kinships, and each is different, depending on what you want to get out of the experience. You can find a kinship within the game, or on social media - in fact, I found my kinship, the one I’ve been in all these years, right here on Tumblr! I want to extend that hand in friendship to potential new players that are in the position I was all those years ago. 

Our humble kinship is called Dwarrowdam. You may recall this is the name for a lady-dwarf! While many of our members are dwarrowdams, that is by no means a prerequisite. We welcome players of all races and classes. Dwarrowdam is a casual social kinship, where we enjoy helping others out, from learning the ropes to festival activities, deeding, raids, concerts, and much more. We host weekly kin nights, where we get together and have fun for a couple of hours. This kinship has been going almost since the start of LOTRO itself, and we are eager to meet new people! A few of our higher-ranking members have had to depart after many years, due to real life commitments, and we hope to build our ranks again. We all thoroughly enjoy mentoring new players, myself included. Dwarrowdam would be a great choice for kinship for any player just starting out, or a continuing player looking for a relaxed social atmosphere as part of their gameplay experience! We are located on the Landroval server, which itself is known for its friendliness and its roleplay opportunities. It is our hope that gaining a solid handful of new, active members will allow our kinship to return to its former glory. Kinships can fizzle out and dissolve if too many players leave, and that is the last thing we want to happen to Dwarrowdam. It’s been like a home for me and many others, and I believe we can restore it.

I am an officer in the Dwarrowdam kinship, along with Badari and Daerhovan. We strongly encourage you to contact us with any questions you might have, about the kinship or LOTRO itself, or if you would like to join Dwarrowdam. 

Anyone who loves Tolkien and Middle-Earth should give LOTRO a try. For me, finding it was like filling a hole in my life I never knew existed. It’s thrilling, peaceful, emotional, hopeful, all in one - basically, everything that the stories we know and love already are, but brought to life in front of us. I’d like to think that if you tried it, you’d love it as much as I do. And if you’re in need of a kinship, please consider Dwarrowdam. 

And besides, look at Gandalf and his bushy eyebrows. You can’t say no to that.

[conceptstage]

A Marriage of Convenience {Chapter Twelve}

“I've figured it out,” Beau said sitting down at the kitchen nook table later that day. The table was situated by the window and was intended for servants to take their meals but right now Molly and Caleb were sitting across from one another with Jester sitting in the third chair across from Beau. Molly and Yasha had been hiding out in the kitchen all day since it was the only room Beau could think of that her parents didn't give a shit about. Everyone looked up at her when she sat down.

“Our new jobs?” Molly asked.

“My book issue?” asked Caleb next.

“The Gentleman and your parents?” suggested Jester.

Beau groaned and pressed her fingers to her forehead. “Fuck. I've got so much to do. You jackasses will be the death of me, the most complicated thing in my life used to be fucking with my suitors enough to make them leave without killing them accidentally.” She took a deep breath in through her nose and pointed at Molly. “You. My mother has been trying to convince me to hire a personal assistant. Congratulations, you got the job.”

Molly took a bite of his food and looked intrigued. “What's it pay?”

“Not enough to make it worth it.”

“I'll take it.”

“Yasha will be my personal bodyguard. I'll tell my mother that the kidnapping shook me and I wanted extra protection. I might throw in a couple crocodile tears just to make her uncomfortable enough not to ask too many questions.” She paused and looked around the otherwise empty kitchen. “Speaking of, where the fuck is she?”

“Caduceus mentioned a garden and Yasha wanted to pick some flowers.”

“I told you not to go wandering off.”

“She's fine, we can see her from here.”

Beau frowned but leaned over Molly's shoulder to look out the window. Sure enough, she had a clear view of Yasha and Caduceus puttering around the garden, talking quietly.

“Alright, well, I need to introduce you both to my mother.”

Jester frowned at her. “You've been so stressed. We need to do something fun tomorrow.”

“I'm fine.”

Molly clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “You're not fine. You're getting a wrinkle, right here.” He reached out to touch her forehead right between her eyebrows and she smacked his hand away. “As your personal assistant I suggest you take a break.”

“I can't take a break, there's no time.”

Molly gave her a considering look. “We could just get drunk. That's a good start. There's always time to get drunk.”

Jester frowned. “I don't think we should be using alcohol to solve our problems.”

“Alcohol isn't for solving problems,” Molly agreed. “It's for forgetting about them.”

Suddenly, Jester gasped and clapped her hands excitedly. “We could go to the hot springs! There’s a beautiful hot spring in the hills at the back of the estate. Oh, come on come on, Beau, we haven’t been since your fourteenth birthday!”

Beau frowned. “That was your fourteenth birthday. For mine we sledded down the stairs in boxes and I got a concussion.”

Jester waved dismissively. “Whichever, not the point.”

“Besides, it’s the middle of summer, it’s eighty degrees out. This isn’t exactly hot springs weather.”

“We should go anyway. Oh, it’s so relaxing, it’s perfect. Plus, now we’re old enough we don’t need to wear our bathing suits anymore.”

Molly got a glint in his eye that chilled Beau to the bone. “Are you suggesting skinny dipping in a hot spring? My, Jester, you’ve got a bit of a wild streak, haven’t you?”

She smirked back at him and giggled playfully. “You’ve got no idea.”

Caleb grimaced. “Nott won’t like that.”

“Well, she doesn't have to go in the water if she doesn’t want.”

Molly turned back to Beau. “As your personal assistant I am ordering you to go to the hot springs.”

Beau gave him a bewildered look. “Hey, you don’t give me orders. I’m the boss here.”

“That remains to be seen.”

“Fuck you.” She made the mistake of looking at Jester and got caught in her puppy dog eyes.

“Please?” Jester asked, clasping her hands in front of her as her bottom lip wobbled.

Beau looked away and hid her face. “Fine.”

“Woot!” Jester cheered, dropping the act right away. “I’ll invite Fjord.”

Beau huffed in annoyance and got to her feet. “I’ll go get Yasha and then you,” she pointed at Molly and he pointed back because he’s a little shit. “-and her and I are all going to meet my mother.”

“Sounds like fun.”

“Oh, it’ll be a blast, for sure. Come on, obnoxious one, we’ve got shit to do.” She left out the exit door with Mollymauk trailing behind her, strutting like he had no worries in the world. Yasha tensed and looked up when they got near but her shoulders relaxed when she saw them. She held up a fist full of flowers and Mollymauk gave her a kind smile.

“They’re lovely, dear.”

Yasha pulled a small book out of her pocket and started setting the flowers inside as Beau started to tell her what they’d discussed.

“Molly is gonna be my personal assistant. My mother has been hounding me to get one since I was sixteen. I’m going to tell her that the kidnapping attempt scared me and that I hired you to be my personal bodyguard.”

“Will she believe that something like that would scare you?” Molly asked. “Because you didn’t seem scared at all, you challenged the guards to an arm wrestling match no more than two minutes after they locked us in.”

Beau shrugged. “She doesn’t know shit about me, she’d believe I farted rainbows if I said it seriously enough. That okay with you Yasha?”

Yasha nodded and got to her feet, all of her new flowers carefully pressed. “I like it actually,” she said. “It’s like my job at the carnival, I get to protect people.”

Beau blushed slightly and cleared her throat. “Yep, it’s just like that. Come on, I need to introduce you to my mother.” She lead the carnival duo back inside through the infirmary door and up the stairs of the south wing to her mother’s office. Inside the office, it was a flurry of reds and pinks and white carpet that she wasn’t allowed to track mud on on pain of death. She paused in the threshold and wiped off her bare feet on the darker hall carpet before taking a step inside. Molly and Yasha exchanged a glance but removed their shoes, sitting them beside the door. “Mother,” Beau called.

“In here!” her mother’s voice called through the curtained archway on the opposite wall.

Beau lead her new friends farther into the office and pulled back the curtain to reveal her mother sitting at a large writing desk, delicately signing Beau’s signature on gold leafed wedding invitations.

Beau held in the distressed noise she wanted to make and just shook her head. “Mother, this is my new personal assistant and bodyguard. I just hired them and I wanted to introduce them to you.”

Her mother looked up suddenly and the excitement on her face dulled as she looked Molly and Yasha over. Her scorn was particularly trained on Molly. “Personal assistant, you say? What experience do you have? Give me your references.”

Molly opened his mouth to speak but Beau stepped forward with her hands on her hips. “No, I already vetted and hired them, I’m only bringing them here as a formality so that you don’t think they’re thieves when they’re walking around the estate and have them arrested.” Have them arrested again, but she didn’t say that. “I’ll be taking more responsibility with the business and the estate and these are my first hires.”

Her mother frowned and got to her feet. “Well, I certainly appreciate that you’re taking more interest in the business, darling, but is now really the time to be jumping in head first? You have a wedding coming up in a few weeks, perhaps you can make your first hires after that.”

“Caleb is supportive of my choices,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “He said that he’d be happy to take over my responsibilities with wedding prep if I wanted to focus on the winery.” Sorry Caleb, though not that sorry.

Her mother raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow. “Your fiance wants to look at flower arrangements and taste wedding cakes?”

Well, no, but Beau didn’t want to do that either but her mother hadn’t bothered to ask her that question. “He can’t wait.”

Georgina sighed and waved her hand as she walked around the desk. “Very well. But I do have an issue with you hiring a bodyguard, all security hires have to go through the head of guard. She’ll need to be vetted by Kassandra.”

“Mother, four members of the family guard betrayed me, or have you forgotten?” She did what she could to bring tears to her eyes. Think about Jester crying. Water started spilling down her cheeks. “I was kidnapped. I think that I will feel far safer with a personal bodyguard who is loyal only to me.”

At the first sign of tears her mother took a large step back and her nose scrunched up in distaste. “Very well. But the first time either of them causes trouble your hiring privileges are revoked indefinitely.”

“My good lady,” Molly started, smiling charmingly. “All that we want is to serve dear Beauregard to the best of our abilities so that she can become the winery mogul that she’s clearly destined to be.”

Beau looked back at him. “Laying it on a little thick there,” she whispered to him.

He shrugged. “You’re one to talk. I thought you said crocodile tears? You were nearly full on sobbing.”

“Fuck you, Molly.”

“Go fuck yourself, Beau.”

Her mother sighed and turned to walk back to her desk. “Well, as long as you all understand that there will be consequences should you bring disorder on this house. Dismissed.”

Beau didn’t bother trying to say anything more and ushered them all out of the room. She sighed in relief when they were finally back out in the hall and paused to let them both put their shoes back on.

“What exactly does being a personal assistant entail?” Molly asked, zipping up his knee high boots.

Beau shrugged. “Fuck if I know. My mother has a personal assistant named Helena and if looking at her is any indication, a personal assistant is some kind of mix between a gopher, an event planner, a phyciatrist, and a prison warden.”

Molly smirked. “This is the job I was born for.”

-

“All packed?” Molly asked as he stepped into the kitchen.

Jester grinned and nodded. “Yep! We’ve got plenty of food and drinks to last the whole day at the springs!”

Molly picked up one of the bottles that she had sitting delicately on top of the picnic basket. “Dear, this is sparkling grape juice, not wine.”

“So? What’s the difference?”

“This is nonalcoholic.”

“Well, I like it.”

He nodded and sat it back in the basket. “Then you can have that. I’ll grab something for the rest of us.” He reached up and grabbed two bottles of wine to join her juice. “There we go.” He wasn’t wearing his usual coat, just a light, nearly see through white top and lace up slacks that could removed and put on with ease, the perfect outfit for skinny dipping. Jester was wearing a light, summery blue dress, her blue hair pulled up in a bun on top of her head, and (Molly was pretty sure) nothing underneath. Caleb walked in next, wearing his usual clothes.

Jester pouted. “Caleb! Are you nervous about being naked? Is that why you’re wearing all those layers?”

Caleb cleared his throat. “No, I have no qualms about being undressed in front of you all. I needed something to hide Nott in.”

“Are we alone?” Asked a voice from inside Caleb’s coat.

“It’s just us, Nott, come on out,” Molly called, closed up the basket and securing the clasp.

Nott’s head poked up out of the back of Caleb’s coat and she grinned at them. “Hello! Is that booze?”

Fjord entered the kitchen through the backdoor and Jester grinned at him, blushing slightly since he wasn’t wearing a shirt. “Fjord! You made it!”

Molly nodded at Nott, ignoring the new arrival for the moment. “Only the finest.”

“You’re gonna need to grab one more. My flask is nearly empty.” Caduceus entered next, wearing his usual clothes as well but his usual clothes were already light and easy to move in, unlike Caleb’s, so no one mentioned it.

Molly put in a third bottle as Yasha left the pantry with arms full of leftover chicken from last night’s dinner. “As you wish. Where’s the Boss Lady?”

Jester looked confusedly around the kitchen. “She’s not here yet? I just saw her upstairs and she said she was coming right down after she changed.”

Beau entered the kitchen last wearing a loose blue tank top and blue shorts with a large towel thrown over her shoulder. She grinned. “Ready to go? Then let’s head out.”

Jester cheered and threw up her arms. “Hot springs skinny dip party!”

“Shhh!” someone hissed, she wasn’t sure who.

“Oh yeah,” she said quietly. She cheered in a stage whisper. “Woooh. Hot springs skinny dip party.”

[darnedchild]

Molly Hooper Appreciation Week Summer 2017 - Day 1

On FFdotNet and Ao3

Molly Hooper Appreciation Week Summer 2017 - Day 1 - A Ros(i)e By Any Other Name (Fanworks focusing on Molly & Rosie's relationship)

Happy Birthday, Rosie

On Rosie’s first birthday, Molly wept at the unfairness of it.

She woke up in the morning and tried not to feel down.  There was a birthday party to attend, after all; and Rosie would need her Aunty Molly to be full of cheerful smiles and comforting words in a room full of less familiar faces and loud voices.

John had been a little overwhelmed with trying to plan a party for a one-year old. Sherlock had been no help at all.

(“She’s one.  She won’t remember a cake and a bunch of grown-ups standing around in stupid party hats.  Why even bother?”)

So it had fallen to Mrs Hudson and Molly to plan a small gathering, more for family and friends than for Rosie herself.

It had been fun at first, planning and giggling over pretty invitations and smash cakes.  Picking a dress for the tiny girl, and a matching shirt for her Daddy.

That’s when it stopped being fun for Molly.

John had grumbled but agreed to wear a button down in the same lavender shade as his daughter’s frilly outfit.  Molly found herself thinking “Mary should have a matching dress.  Or perhaps a ribbon in her hair.” and that was all it took.

Still, Molly pushed through and hid her sadness.  The only one who noticed kept his observations to himself, although she did feel the weight of Sherlock’s gaze following her out the door when she left that evening.

She managed to keep it all inside until the cab ride home after the party.

And then the tears came because Mary Watson should have been there to see her daughter’s first birthday.  Rosie Watson should have been able to feel her mother’s loving kisses and hugs every single day of her childhood.  And someone had taken that away from them both.

இڿڰۣ-ڰۣ—

On Rosie’s second birthday, Molly laughed and giggled as the little girl toddled across the floor straight into Uncle Sherlock’s legs.  

Rosie loved her Mowwy, but Sirlok was her favourite (second only to Daddy, of course).

Molly had read all of the child development books, and loaned most of them to Sherlock. As far as she was concerned, Rosie was far more advanced than the average two-year old.  John, Sherlock, and Mrs Hudson agreed, but Molly was willing to allow that they might all be just a tiny bit biased.  

The toddler had only been talking for a few months, but she was already identifying all sorts of things that a two-year old probably shouldn’t have been familiar with. John taught her everything a parent should teach their daughter.  Molly routinely added the anatomical names for body parts whenever they played “Where is your nose?  Where is your belly button?” types of games.  Sherlock spent hours explaining the little observational clues that held him to his deductions (but only on the tamer cases, and absolutely nothing that involved a corpse).  When would Molly wonder what Mrs Hudson was teaching the little girl, the older woman would only give her a secretive smile and say that there were certain skills that every woman should know.  Molly suspected those skills had nothing to do with the stereotypical baking or brewing a proper cup of tea and more to do with setting up an off-shore banking account and picking out prime pieces of real-estate.

Rosie’s birthday party was smaller affair; just the Godparents, John, and a cake at Baker Street.

இڿڰۣ-ڰۣ—

On Rosie’s fifth birthday, Molly gasped.

Rosie had wanted a pony, and by golly that’s what Uncle Sherlock made sure she got.

Or as close as possible when one was a five-year old living in a basement flat in London.  

Which meant Sherlock had somehow called in a favour (Via Mycroft, most likely; although it could have been Mrs Hudson.) and arranged for an entire day at a ranch owned by someone very rich and very important.  A day of pony rides for Rosie and her best friend, fairy cakes and champagne (for the adults only), and fifteen minutes Molly being led around on an old mare on a lead (After two glasses of champagne and the promise that no one would film the misadventure.  John lied, much to Molly’s annoyance.)

While John and Sherlock took out a pair of younger horses for an afternoon ride, Molly cuddled up on a blanket under a tree with the girls.  Rosie put her head in Molly’s lap and both children took a nap Molly enjoyed being outside, far away from the city.

The only thing that made the day even better was Sherlock reappearing as the sun began to set and asking if Molly would like to take a walk with him.

இڿڰۣ-ڰۣ—

On Rosie’s tenth birthday, Molly agreed to host a sleepover for Rosie and five of her closest friends.  

John had seemed rather relieved when she offered.  Apparently, the thought of chaperoning half a dozen giggling ten-year olds was more intimidating that chasing down a suspected murder through the streets of London.  

The coward.

There were experiments with make-up and hairstyles, ghost stories and a scary movie while huddled in a circle in the darkened sitting room, sleeping bags and sugary treats in the middle of the night.

The next morning, an exhausted Molly waved goodbye to the girls and their parents as each was picked up.  The last to leave was the guest of honour, who rushed back at the last moment to give Molly a heartfelt “I love you, Aunt Molly” and a crushing hug.

இڿڰۣ-ڰۣ—

On Rosie’s sixteenth birthday, Molly fidgeted and worried along with John, Sherlock, and Mrs Hudson (although none of them would admit to worrying as they hovered about Baker Street) while Rosie spent the evening ‘hanging out’ with a few of her friends.  Some of which were boys.  

“It’s not a date,” she had been quick to reassure her dad.  “Well, Michelle is dating Rashad, but the rest of us are just friends.”

Molly made a mental note to speak with John later about the fact that Rosie was sixteen and while her night out with friends might not have been a ‘date’, there was a very good chance that would change in the near future.  

She also made a mental note to speak with Rosie about the very real possibility that anyone she dated would be vetted by an overprotective father, an uncle who worked for Scotland Yard, the British Government, and an uncle who knew seventeen different ways to ruin someone’s life with just a few pointed words.  

Oddly, Sherlock had no cases to work on; almost as if he wanted to make sure he and John were available at a moment’s notice.

For her part, Molly had slipped Rosie a tenner and made her promise that if anything made her the least bit uncomfortable, she would find the nearest cab and call as soon as she had a chance.  Regardless, Molly wanted a detailed recap of the entire evening, and she especially wanted to know if Jared was really as dreamy as Rosie had hoped.

இڿڰۣ-ڰۣ—

On Rosie’s eighteenth birthday, Molly stood next to her husband and John and Teresa (John’s second wife), and waved goodbye to her Goddaughter as she climbed into her boyfriend’s car.  

The two couples regularly met for dinner and board games at least twice a month; a chance for the men to reminisce about their younger years, when leaping from rooftop to rooftop without a thought to their safety was a much more common occurrence. Sherlock still took plenty of cases, and still called on John for assistance on a regular basis, but now they occasionally brought Archie along when they thought they might need a bit of extra muscle or speed.

“She’ll be fine,” Teresa reassured her husband.  “It’s just a few days.”

“You know how much she’s been looking forward to this.  Simon’s a good boy.  And Rosie has been camping plenty of times, she’ll know what to do if anything happens,” Molly took her turn at trying to offer reassurance.  “Which it won’t, so I don’t know why I even mentioned it.”  

“Oh for God’s sake, John.  She’s eighteen.  Everyone on the trip has been screened by Mycroft’s people.  They’ll be staying at a well-known, popular camping park. There will be other people within shouting distance at all times.  She’ll be fine,” Sherlock huffed.

“You’re right.  You’re right. It’s not often we’ve got an empty house for four whole days.”  John reached for Teresa’s hand and brought it up to his lips.  “Let’s make the most of it, shall we?”

The Watsons headed into the kitchen to start dinner preparations, leaving Molly and Sherlock to look out at the empty street where Simon’s car had been.  She leaned her head against Sherlock’s arm.  “You arranged for the Park Warden to check in on them every night, right?”

“Mmmhmm. And I’ve got a pair of hikers who will set up camp next to them, equipped with a satellite phone and a first-rate med kit.”  

Molly grinned and pressed a kiss against his cheek.  “She’ll kill us if she finds out, you know.”

“We’ll blame it on Mycroft.”  

இڿڰۣ-ڰۣ—

On Rosie’s twenty-first birthday, Molly cried.  Again.

Rosie had come home from university for the weekend, Simon in tow and a diamond ring on her finger.    

“We’re planning to wait until we graduate to get married, so there’s ages before we need to start planning anything; but we wanted to tell you all as soon as possible.”

After several rounds of congratulations and a large lunch, Molly found herself in the small attic of the Watson house with Rosie and Teresa.  The three women dug through dusty boxes and cobwebs, until Teresa found the case they were looking for.  

They drug it into the circle of light from the bare overhead bulb and Rosie reverently opened the case to find the items that had been so lovingly packed away more than two decades before.

Rosie held her mother’s wedding dress to her chest, and Molly carefully arranged the veil over Rosie’s hair.  

Teresa clasped her hands together and gave Rosie a watery smile.  “It’s beautiful.  You’re beautiful.”  

“Do you think Mum would mind?” Rosie asked with a waver in her voice.

“I think she’d be delighted, my love.”  Molly sniffled and wiped her hand across her eyes.  

[blackrigante]

Secrets in the Titles

I decided that I wanted to see how the title of each book fits the story. This is a huge spoiler in the novels so do not read if you are not ready. I warned you!

Storm Front

This title fits very well with the story though you do not see it till the end. The death magic that killed Tommy Tom and everyone involved is connected to the storms.  I love how obvious it is when you go back and see the truth see the raw power of the storm.

Fool Moon

Fool Moon is another great misleading story title, you hear about the werewolves in the first chapter and think about how the story and the title of the book are connected because of the werewolves. Unfortunately Butcher fools (ha ha get it fools) us with how the loup-garou is set up by the FBI werewolves.

Grave Peril

With the dangers of the ghosts coming up and terrorizing the people of Chicago and opening up the way for the nightmare. There is two additional things that I think about that are also a bonus to this story title. First Charity’s life is put into great peril in the graveyard, she was hospitalized and little Harry is in ICU. The second one is Harry brings the dead that Bianca and her kind have killed in her house, the graves gave up the dead.

Summer Knight

Harry has to find who stole the power of the Summer Knight, play on words this story is also leading up to the Summer Solstice.  Harry is sent to find who stole the Summer Knights power in his search he ultimately has to find the Knight and save the power. This one is a large play on words, knight is also night, and the story ends finding the summer knight on mid-summer night. This makes it double fun for me.

Death Masks

This one I tried to connect the title with the story, besides the obvious Shroud of Turin being the Mask of a dead man. I remember that the priest is dead and one of the Denarian is impersonating the man to get Harry to work on the case. Once more a twist in the last part of novel. Another reveal of the true title in the last part of the story.

Blood Rites

The blood rites performed to evoke an entropy curse gives the grounds for an obvious title in the story, but I think this like Summer Knight has a second meaning. Rites is also a homophone of rights, writes, and wrights. If we go with Blood Rights then I find we have a second story meaning. Thomas we learn is Harry’s older half-brother on his mother’s side. It is our right to know who our family is, blood or other side. Learning who his brother is answers to his right and an answer to something he is missing and wanting.

Dead Beat

Drummers are needed to carry the heartbeat of the dead and with 3 different necromancers in town that means we have 3 different dead beats. I would also like to comment that Grevane’s drummer is kind of a deadbeat guy.  The dead have a few extra twists in this, we meet Malcolm Dresden who has been dead for what I would assume is over 2 decades. The best dead beat is in the end of the story with POLKA WILL NEVER DIE.

Proven Guilty

This is hard, besides the first chapter of the young kid who is killed there is also Molly being found guilty and giving herself to the council for judgement. Charity also has something to confess and is proven guilty for hiding her secret it has made molly fall down the wrong path.

White Night

The white court of vampires are making an internal power play in this story. Harry is a catspaw for the house of Raith and is not getting any help from his brother. The white night can refer to the night harry confronts the white court as the catspaw, but like Summer Knight it could also be the white knight. As a warden of the white council he fights on the front line to defend those of magical talent. Women of magical talent are being hunted down and he challenges those responsible in a duel, just like a knight would.

Small Favor

This is an interesting because what Mab is asking is no small favor, after all he fights Gruffs, Denarians and calls in the archive getting her kidnapped and having to rescue her too. Well if that’s a small favor to Mab then I don’t want to know what a large favor is, oh wait there is Cold Days… I wanted to see what else is a small favor is this book. Could it be the gift of Soul Fire, Amoraccius, rescuing Marcone, or could it be returning the broach given to him and getting a donut? Honestly the donut is the smallest favor in the book.

Turn Coat

Everyone thinks that Morgan is a turn coat, Harry is hired by Morgan, pro bono that is to find the true traitor. Harry finds a turn coat in the White Court as well as the White Council. Thomas is also a turn coat in the story, He has turned from trying to protect his humanity to being more Incubus then before.

Changes

Let’s see how many changes are there in this book, Destruction of the Red Court, Susan changing into a vampire, learning about Maggie, Becoming the White Knight, The balance of power in the magical world, Murphy no longer working for CPD, The loss of his home, car, staff, everything he ever owned. There is a lot of changes in the story but the biggest change is at the very end of the story when Harry is shot, and he changes from life to dying maybe even dead.

Ghost Story

Harry is in the afterlife, or maybe the Chicago between life and death. He is a Ghost, he talks to Morty to get help since he is a ghost, Corpsetaker is a ghost now, and there is ghosts everywhere. I honestly don’t see how Ghost Story is hinting to anything special here so idk how to help.

Cold Days

Harry lives in Arctis Tor while doing physio therapy those would be very cold indeed. He learns the power of the Winter Knight and is finding the powers to be hard. What I find to be a surprise twist is how cold Mab is in allowing Murphy to kill her daughter so she can replace her, choosing Molly and forcing her into the role makes it colder still.

Skin Game

Harry is playing a con game, with shape shifters, Denarians, and a big foot. Playing a con you have to have your cards close to your chest so no one can see what you have. Playing against the Denarians is playing with your life. The title fits very well. The end of Skin Games there was one last discovery that Goodman Grey is a Skin Walker. Another good twist.

Peace Talks (Not yet released)

We know next to nothing about this book so far. I would like to speculate that while there is talks about having peace with the different factions of magical society. I feel like it’s a trap, while discussing peace the Fomor will stage an attack on all the representatives, if this is true, then they have to have enough power to take on the Queens of Fey, The White Council, House of Raith, and who knows how many others, showing that they only want to talk about peace.

Mirror, Mirror (not yet released)

On the wall who is the fairest one of all. Mirrors let things look in, or to travel in. Mirrors reflect into our souls. What if Harry and Evil Harry somehow switch places? This is hard to find out because Mirrors have so many possibilities.

[thessalian]

Molly!Warden vs Kinloch Hold, Again

Molly: Okay, this is one of those things where you built on an old ruin, right?

Sentinels: *silent attack*

Molly: ...There aren’t any people in these. Why are they moving?

Finn: Magic, that’s how! Also a tear in the Veil, so possibly demons!

Molly: Just making sure we weren’t dealing with more golem stuff. So ... stabbing will still work?

Finn: Perhaps try it and find out?!?

Molly: *stabs tear in the Veil*

Veil Tear: *seals*

Molly: ...That is the most counterintuitive bit of nugshit I have ever seen. But then again, I shouldn’t be surprised. It worked in Blackmarsh.

Ariane; Finn: ...wut.

Molly: Never mind, just ... chatty statue.

Statue: Horrible Things!

Finn: Um ... looks like we won’t get answers until we seal the rest of the Veil tears.

Molly: So ... did you guys consider maybe not building your mage school / prison hybrid on top of a weak spot in the Veil that sprouts more holes than my old socks for no good reason?

Finn: Actually ... that’s by design. Some of the magic we use works best when near thin places in the Veil, so...

Molly: So ... you have your mage school on top of a spot that could just randomly leak demons at you, and then you get Templars using that as an excuse to be shitlords. No wonder those twits in the library said that things in Kirkwall are getting dicey.

Finn: Oh, Kirkwall. That whole place is built on more blood magic than--

Ariane: WE. HAVE. A. MISSION.

A few more stabbed Veil tears later

Molly: ...This is an actual, literal dungeon. And there’s bones in here.

Finn: .........Fr-from dinner, I’m sure.

Molly: And that last room looked like it contained torture implements.

Finn: I ... have no response to that.

Molly: Dude, no wonder Anders wanted out so bad. Also ... you used to keep your phylacteries in the same space as your dungeons? You know, where you kept mages for trying to escape?!?

Finn: Funny you should say that; they apparently moved them when one of our people went a bit ... erm ... blood magic on the Templars after destroying his phylactery.

Molly: ...His name wouldn’t have been Jowan, would it?

Finn: Well, yes. How did--?

Molly: You should know he went on to try to hide Connor Guerrin’s magic from everybody - failed, by the way, and his lack of decent training got him demon-possessed, and that led to a fun night of beating back undead - and poison Redcliffe’s arl. He got locked up and then kinda executed.

Finn: Oh. No wonder they moved the phylacteries.

Ariane: I’m sure it’s fun dissecting your coincidences one at a time but the armour is coming for us again.

Several stabnations later...

Statue: You’re looking for the Lights of Arlathan, and possibly Cadash Thaig.

Molly: ......Oh, fuck a nug.

Ariane; Finn: What?

Molly: I’ve been to Cadash Thaig. At least we won’t be wandering into unknown territory. Shale ... my golem friend, she was from there. A very long time ago. Back in the Ancient Age. Shayle, of House Cadash. I’d like to see her old monument again anyway.

Ariane: So we go to dur’genlen ruins before we go to elven ones? When looking for an eluvian?

Molly: Statue said they were hidden there, from Tevinter. The Deep Roads is a great place to hide things. And since I already have a map of the place, it’ll be a fairly quick search. C’mon. Thanks, statue-lady. Hope you’re feeling better.

Finn: You have inordinate concern for things made of stone, it seems. Is that a dwarven thing?

Ariane: Are you always this racist?

Finn: ...Possibly I’m a bit sheltered and need to expand my education. Farewell, Eleni Zinovia. We’ll speak again soon.

Statue: Nuh-uh.

Finn: ...waitwut.

Molly: How about parsing the cryptic nugshit while we’re on the road?

Finn: You want me with you?

Molly: I want anybody who can kill a magic-user with their own mana. Last time I went without a mage in a travel group, I got Misdirection Hexed into next Tuesday and had to resort to the kerboom. Oh. Which reminds me. Hey, Sandal! Got any corrupter agent? I found a great recipe for magic-dispelling boom.

Sandal: Enchantment!

Ariane: ...I suppose you’ll do. Just ... don’t ask me if my name means anything in elven, alright?

Finn: Well ... I won’t now...

[nobelmemories]

                    SLIDING ROCK NOBEL CONSOLIDATED SCHOOL

          More Nobel Memories – Along The Nobel Road

                                       Part III

       The photograph I have attached to this post was only taken a couple of years ago, and most likely will only be recognized by someone who has attended Nobel Consolidated School. It represents a school time activity that we all enjoyed in the winter time back in the 1940’s. Can you remember or guess what it was?

       Today's first story is about Oscar Mace. He was married to Winnie Philips the daughter of Bob and Charlotte Phillips who had lived up the McDougall Rd. I only remember going to the Phillips farm once with the Mace’s when I was very Young. Oscar”s Story is as he told me was one of the most interesting I have ever heard. It is about the love and great length grandparents will go to for their grandchildren. It kind of reminds me of the Hatfields and the McCoys. Oscar was born and raised in the Mountains around Sutton West Virginia. I have traveled through Sutton West Virginia several times. The mountains seem to be an average of 2 to 3 thousand feet. Many places you can see little houses away up on the mountainside; that look like they are glued to the side of the mountain. The majority of people I have met from that area are built like Oscar was tall and long-limbed. They have a sort of drawl to their speech. This fits Oscar and he could tell the most interesting stories which were accentuated with his accent. His mother had married to Oscar’s stepfather and he had other siblings, but for some reason, his stepfather was exceptionally abusive to him. When Oscar was about 14yrs it had come to a point where something was going to happen. In 1927 his grandfather and grandmother Foley took Oscar and I believe their youngest boy Mose and traveled by train to Parry Sound from Sutton W.V. to get Oscar away from his Stepfather.  They bought a farm in Carling Twp. on the then Snug Harbour Road now Hwy. 559. It was located off the highway on the west side between the Billy Ramsay’s and the Hailstone farms. Oscar grew up in Carling and was well known throughout the township. Around 1935 he married Winnie and they bought property on the corner of Nobel Road and Portage Lake Road (now Pineridge Drive) from Dave Lumsden and became our next door neighbors. I believe it was In 1937 that the Foley grandparents then sold their farm in Carling and moved back to Sutton where they lived the remainder of their lives and are buried there. Now anyone who knew Oscar, new that he was an avid hunter, fisherman, trapper, and hunter. He sometimes bent the rules a little. He survived the thirties and liked the taste of venison and found he could make a little extra money trapping beaver etc. I remember him making his own leg hold beaver traps out of steel barrels. Most of the old timers have heard of Neil MacNaughton. He was good Game Warden. I got to know him when I first started to work for the old Lands & Forests. He was the head Game Warden in Parry Sound District and took down many old-time poachers, but he never caught Oscar. I think it was because he never could catch him with the fur. I remember at a very young age knowing that Oscar kept his beaver pelts stored in Dave Lumsden’s attic.  My Uncle Harry Calow was also raised in Carling Twp and was of like character. He was also a good friend of Oscar’s. It turned out that through my life I spent many a hunting season hunting with the two of them. The best part of all those hunts were the stories told by Oscar during the evenings. He had that special way of telling a story that had you sitting on the edge of your seat waiting for the punch line. He was mischievous to a fault. We always had the rule in the hunt camp that the first one who complained about the cooking would have to take it over. I can still remember one night we were hunting out of Van Wagner’s cottage on Deep Bay up in Carling. Norm Knechtel was cooking and had really salted the potatoes. Oscar said: Boy there sure is a lot of salt in those potatoes, but before Norm could take off his apron, Oscar added but its just the way I like them.

     Oscar loved to tease and I remember another night in the camp the boys were playing cribbage. Oscar was winning as usual and suspected of cheating. One of the guys got ticked off and wouldn’t play anymore so he went to bed. I was being entertained by it all, and just laid in the top bunk and watched and listened. It finally dawned on me what he was doing. It was his count. He would say 15 -2, 15-4 and a pair is 7 and he would peg 7 points.

     Oscar and Winnie had five children. I remember he had pet names for them. Marilyn (Molly), Gary (Guy), Louise, Ted (Jimmy) and Terry.  Everyone pretty well burned wood in those days and it would be dumped in a pile in our yards and then split and piled in our wood sheds. We had a beaten trail across the field between our house and Mace’s. One night we had all made a hole in the woodpile at Mace’s and got down in the hole telling each other ghost stories. It was pretty much dark when I left to go home. It was kind of a spooky evening, especially after all of those stories and with the shadows and what not. I must have been between eight and ten years old. I was running pretty well full tilt, about halfway across our field was a big maple tree with a cluster of cherry brush growing at the base of it. My brother Deane had heard me coming and hid in the brush. Just as I got there he jumped out of the brush in front of me and gave a big growl. He scared the dickens out of me. I ran into him full tilt fists flying, knocked him down and kept right on running. I knew it was him, but he scared me so bad that I could not stop. He could have affected me the rest of my life and probably did. It took me years to get him back, but I did again and again and again.

     Another story that I remember was that Oscar owned a 1936 blue sloped backed Ford car. One night I was standing at the kitchen sink helping mother with the dishes. I would probably be about twelve so that would make Guy about eleven. Oscar was trying to teach Guy to drive. The car was not going fast, but it came down the Side Road, Hammill Ave to the end and where they should have turned right to their driveway, the car came over the end of the road, as it was turning right it dropped onto the old roadbed and rolled over onto its roof. I saw Oscar’s passenger car door open quickly.  He looked back made sure Guy was alright then continued to the house, where he stopped at a pile of wood, grabbed the axe and started splitting wood as fast as he could. It was their family car which did not come too cheap in those days.  I guess he was just frustrated.  The tires were still turning in the air. I don’t think Guy stopped to help him. The car disappeared for a while and the next time I saw it, The body had been all stripped off. Leaving the chassis with the seats dash and windshield, I guess it was the first homemade dune buggy I had ever seen. Oscar would drive all over the ice of the Bay with it. One weekend he took a whole group of us kids ice fishing out to Kill Bear Point.  It sure was a lot of fun.

     Oscars mind remained sharp well into his senior years. He was in his ninety-second or third year when he was coming out of Parry Sound on church street one day. He stopped at the 3 way light at Church and Rosetta St. Years ago it had been a flashing red light and before that, it was just a stop sign. Oscar seeing the red light stopped, couldn’t see anything approaching so he drove on. Unfortunately, an OPP officer saw what happened and stopped Oscar. He asked Oscar if he knew what had happened and Oscar’s response was: I stopped, checked for oncoming traffic and there was none, so I drove on. The officer said would you do that if that happened again. His response was; of course not l would wait till the light changed next time. The officer let him go with a warning

      Winnie had been sick for several years and Oscar was her caregiver. It finally got to a point where it was just too much for him and he finally consented to have her put in a home where she could be better cared for.  She eventually died and Oscar spent a few years on his own. He eventually had a foot problem and was in the hospital waiting for an opening in a Long care facility.  He died like a true mountain man. First, he anticipated that his death was imminent and said his goodbyes to his family. That night he started experiencing chest pains and the nurse called the doctor. I was told he got halfway through one of his stories to one of the nurses when he suddenly passed on.

     We went to his funeral and he is buried under a cedar tree in the Carling Cemetery. I found it appropriate that a mountain boy from the mountains of West Virginia should spend his years in Carling and be buried there under a cedar tree. Not only was he my brother's father in law, but he was a good friend to many of our family and a pioneer who died along the Nobel Road.

     If you cross the road from the Mace’s driveway in my early years, you would have found the home of Stella and Tuck Ryder. They were a very friendly couple.  I don’t remember them having any children. Tuck had an injury to one his arms. I believe he had been shot in a hunting accident and the bullet had traveled through the arm effecting the elbow and the wrist. He had worked in the bush as a young man and loved to tell the old stories. It seemed whenever he had an audience of young kids around he would have another story. Some probably true and some not so much, but we sure did enjoy listening. Stella was a kind person and as I remember was a pretty good cook. I seem to remember them having an old rust-colored pickup truck.

     During the winter of 1943,  the next house heading east on Portage Lake Road on the south side was the home of Harry and Olga Calow. My Aunt and Uncle and their two children, five-year-old Ronnie and two-year-old Betty. It was my first year at school and I was home sick with the flu. I can remember it like it was yesterday, looking out the window and seeing flames coming out of the house. My mother was wading snow halfway up the field heading for the house. I learned later that the two children, my cousins had perished in the fire. The funeral was held at our house. I can still see that little white coffin In the corner of the living room. It was a very hard time for the whole family, especially my aunt and uncle. Somehow they continued on and had two more beautiful daughters Sandra and Nancy. Harry was working at the D.I.L. during the war. After the war, the family moved to Espanola where Harry worked as a welder at the Paper Mill the rest of his working career. I and my family spent many holidays with them and they still have a special spot in our hearts. I always felt that I was especially lucky, it was like having a second mother and father. Harry passed on in 1985, Olga in 1993.

     Continuing on east on Portage Lake Road on the north side was Floyd Godfrey and his wife. Her name escapes me now, I do remember their son’s Dale and Alwyn. Dale was close to my age and Alwyn was a few years older. Dale and I spent many hours playing together. I especially remember one time we found some paint in one of the dumps. We had it hid inside a hollow pine log back of some cedar trees on our property. It seemed that summer about once a week we would dig out the paint and paint something. I remember because I was always a messy painter and every time we got into it. I got some on me or my clothes. Mother would have a fit. I always had some kind of an excuse. She never did find the paint. I imagine that hollow log is long gone back to the soil from over 70 yrs of decay, and there are a couple of rusty paint cans laying in it. Another memory I have, happened up at up at Godfrey’s. They had a fairly long driveway that ran at an angle from the road to the house. One day Dale and I got hold of Alwyn’s bike that was at the back of their house. We were practicing learning to ride. We were taking turns getting on the bike while the other held it, gave it a push, then we would see how far we went before we fell off. It was my turn and I was heading out the driveway. There was a flat rock about ¾ of the way to the road that formed part of the driveway then dropped off at the edge about six feet to a field. I had balanced the bike for about 20’ when I suddenly lost it, turned across the rock and went head over heal down the drop into the field. When we got the bike back up, the handlebars were in line with the crossbar. I think there were probably a few missing spokes too. Dale and I pushed the bike back to the house and leaned it up where we had found it. I never did hear what happened when Alwyn went to use it again. I hope you had a good story Dale. Thanks for the lessons.

      Another memory I have of the Godfrey’s happened a little later. I had climbed a large white pine at the back side of our property. Alwyn was standing on top of a rock behind where Herb Pilgrim’s house was eventually built on the old Art Wright property.   He had a BB gun. I san him aiming at me and the next thing I knew I felt a sharp pain on my chest. The BB did not go in, but left a little red welt. I guess Alwyn must have found out who damaged his bicycle. Lol.

    My final memory concerned a generator. The old wall telephones use to have a crank on them. It allowed you to crank out a number. Now how you did it was controlled by the crank on the phone. It was made with a series of horse shoe shaped magnets. A wire winding on a shaft spun inside the magnets. The shaft was attached to the crank. The process produced electricity which caused the others connected to your line to have their bell ring. If their number was three long rings, then you cranked out three long rings. If it was two short rings and one long ring you cranked out likewise. The idea being if it was not your ring you would not answer it. How ever it got to be the Unacceptable (acceptable) practice to listen in. That was how the people kept track of what was going on in your community. I remember when I first started courting my wife, her grandmother was a sweet old lady. She was quite short and had a little stool to stand on when she used the crank wall phone. The phone would ring and she would hurry over get on her stool and listen in. One day I phoned Rhoda’s aunt for something, She lived next door to Gramma. I could hear Grandma come on the phone, she breathed very loud. She was listening and I just said Hello Grandma. The phone went clank. The extra funny thing was that every once and a while you would hear her say: I HEARD ON THE PHONE THE OTHER DAY THAT SUCH AND SUCH HAD HAPPENED. You knew it was not a message meant for her.

     To get back to the crank phone at the Godfrey’s, They had one that was taken out of its box. Everything else was working. Floyd,  Alwyn and Dale would take turns holding onto two wires connected to the output and see how long the could hold on while the other was cranking. At times their whole body would shake when the electricity came through. Dale was average size until he got to be 15 or 16 and then he just sprouted. I often wondered if the electricity had anything to do with his growing so tall. Lol. Going east from the Godfrey Driveway you would come to what was the original Nobel Road at the top of the hill. It crossed Portage Lake Road the left side (north)  went down and connected to Nobel Road now Hammill Avenue just west of the old Claudney house,  later Collison property. There was a house on the right side just east of where Greg Lubbelinkhof has built. I do not remember the name and it was torn down after the war. The right branch of the old Nobel Road, went down past the McDougall office. In the early years the left side was an open field. I think it was after the war that Herb Pilgrim and his wife built a house in the middle of that field. Their two sons Bob and Harold was a well known fiddle player. Their daughter married Iris married Vaughn McCoubrey and built a house on the north end of the field facing Portage Lake Road.

     The next house was just past the first little hill on the left. It was built about 1946 by Peter Johnston and his wife Dorreen. I remember going back and helping him to cut wood in the lot behind the house. I was only about ten years old. Peter told me a story just a few years before he died. He could remember me helping him and cutting my finger with an axe. He said he couldn’t get over the fact that I would calmly take a band-aid out of my wallet, patch my finger and go on helping him. Peter was a well known trapper in the area and he always had good stories to tell. I remember going to Marsh Lake on the 4 wheeler a few years ago. Peter was on the plus side of 85 yrs. then and I met him on the trail. He had a little spot between Marsh and Wolf Lake where he had a bit of a tree house. He would get his deer almost every year out of that tree house. He had a little roof on it and stove. He would simply put on a pot of tea and wait for the deer to come to him.

     Peter has passed on now and is often spoken of. He was a thoughtful person and trapped that area for over 70 yrs.  He lived to be a year or two past 90, much of the meat he ate was wild game, it certainly did not affect his longevity.  

      Continuing on east the next house was also on the north side during the war, but the occupants escape my memory. It was on top of the next hill past Peter’s. I believe it was abandoned and tore down after the war. The next house was a small cottage owned and lived in by Merle Sly Holtby while Joe was overseas during the war. My memories of visiting this house were of the kindness and the welcome us kids always received from cousin Merle. I have spoken in a previous posting about visits to the next place. Uncle Elmer Sly and Aunt Olive’s farm. I know it is hard for some readers to believe me when I tell of some of the mischief that went on at the Sly farm. My cousin Florence Sly Mortson would lead you to believe that she never got into any mischief with me. I will admit to being a leader in that category, but there are times I was egged on. She just pointed the way.

     As you travel past the Sly farm you came to the road into Portage Lake Cottages. There were two older ladies who owned and ran these cottages.  Louise Holland and Cora Puckett. They were very good to us kids. We had a very large vegetable garden in the 40’s and mother and I would pick the vegetables, wash them and brush them clean. Then bundle them into little bundles or bag them in brown paper bags. I had racks on my wagon and we would load it to the top. Mother would give me a list of the prices and I would haul the wagon load back to the Portage Lake Cottages. I was always made welcome by the two ladies and their guests. I don’t remember ever coming home with any leftover vegetables. Sometimes I would get other things given to me as tips for my efforts.

     Getting back on the Portage Lake Road heading east again there was a long driveway that went in at an angle to the Bert Brookland farm. The house was first and in front of the farm building. This farm was where I first saw a Guinea hen or Guineau fowl. They are interesting as an exotic bird, but have a very loud and annoying call. They have a pecking order within the flock and are quite protective. They really like to wander. At the back of their field was a bridge that crossed Scott’s Creek that drains Nine Mile Lake. That bridge was our favorite place to catch chub and other minnows.  The next driveway east was the Charles and Ena Hammel’s Farm. I remember visiting there often as a kid with the old people. They had a grown family. Gord and Jim Hammel were two of their boys. As was the case in a lot of the old farmhouses, the basement walls were often built leaving a stone, block or poured wall with a dirt floor. I was pretty small but I remember visiting there with my parents the night they finished pouring the basement floor. It was the first time I saw how they use to finish a floor, using a wooden float with a handle on it and a hand trowel. There were no gasoline finishing trowels in those days. It was hard work on your knees with the float and finishing trowel.

     Continuing on down the hill and crossing the bridge over Scott’s creek you came to the road into Alexander Browns’s cottage  and property. I remember him as being more of a reclusive person. I don’t remember ever meeting any of his children, but many years later in 2001. I met a  young lady at an auction sale we were having after my mother passed. I believe she was Alexander’s granddaughter.  We had an old green recliner rocker that had been my father’s favorite. The girl was about 11, I seen her admiring the chair and told her how it had been my father’s favorite chair and that he would have been so happy to know that a young beautiful girl was enjoying it. Her mother reluctantly agreed to let her buy it for $10 to put in their cottage. I have since often thought about how that turned out. I must admit I had a little chuckle from time to time.

     As you passed the Alexander Brown driveway the Portage Lake Road took a sharp turn to the North for approximately a quarter of a mile running along open fields then turned due west into the Henry and Mable Scott farm. We also visited this farm many time over my younger years. Henry’s family had pretty well all grown up and were on their own too, but I do remember Jim who was just finishing up school when I started and Ken who was a mechanic at Uncle Sarnie’s garage and also one of his bus drivers for years. Ken was married to Rita. I chummed with Allan in grade school and I think his younger sisters name was Sharron. The buses I remember Ken driving were the old homemade ones. Many a time one of us would displease the drive with something we said or did. We would be ordered off the bus to walk the 2 plus miles to home. The worse thing was for our parents to find out, then we would probably end up with a licking too. Sometimes Uncle Sarnie would drive the bus although he usually drove the north bus that brought the kids down from Shebishekong Lake way. Ivan Hunt also drove part of the time. It was easy to get back on the bus at a later date, we just had to do a hat in the hand apology and we better sound like we meant it too. The other thing I remember is we had very few snow days in those years.  The bus always seemed to get through.  

     I hope by reading these writings it has helped to stimulate some of your own. I also hope you treasure and appreciate yours as I do mine.  Great memories, great people.  Garry                                        

[winterladymolly]

Christmas ship meme with bill?

Sure thing! 

who spends hours putting up lights only to get tangled in them and storm off? - Molly. Let’s face it, she doesn’t have the patience for that and would be likely to just make everyone see what she wanted them to see anyway. 

who accidentally eats a whole box of Christmas chocolates in one sitting? - Again, probably Molly. But was it really “accidental”...? The world may never know....

who insists on watching the cheesy Hallmark Christmas movies? - Bill. Definitely Bill. 

who insists on playing nothing but Michael Buble in the few days running up to Christmas? - Neither of them. Bill seems more like a country guy, and pretty sure Molly’s tastes tend to run towards punk / goth / metal.

who gets their presents wrapped at the mall so the other cant go snooping - Bill. Though it wouldn’t matter much as Molly tends to spend much of the season elsewhere. (Yay Winter!)

who insists on making snow angels? - Molly. Old habits die hard and fresh snow is so much fun! 

who put Christmas outfits on all the pets? - There are pets involved???

Do they go to family’s or have a quiet day in? - Some time is probably spent with the Carpenters, though not enough to overload anyone. 

who insists on wearing matching ugly Christmas jumpers? - Molly. Mostly because the look on Bill’s face at the suggestion is priceless.

Who waits up until midnight to give the other their present? - Neither. Being an early riser is a thing of necessity. Not of choice.

Who insists on hand-made presents only one year? - Neither. Realistically, neither of them have the time to truly craft something amazing. However, if something hand-made is created and given, it’s that much more special. 

Who puts mistletoe on every door frame? - Bill. Definitely Bill. 

Who gets too drunk at the work Christmas party and has to be picked up at 9:15pm? - Wardens have Christmas work parties?? Winter certainly doesn’t.... 

Who gets angry and almost tells kids that Santa isn’t real? - Haha yeah.... unless something drastically changes for Molly sometime in the near future, kids are probably not a thing that’ll be happening. However, if Bill happens to have kids, it’s probably something that he’d do. With as many siblings as Molly has and the crap hand she’s been dealt, killing that sense of innocence wouldn’t be a thing she’d do, intentionally or unintentionally. Cranky parents, on the other hand.... 

[beckywatcheswrestling]

I have no theories! Everything is wrapped up perfectly! I have no need to explain anything! Is all beautiful! Steven and Mark out did themselves this time! It was perfect! I love Eurus as a character, I think she maybe my favourite villian of all, put of everything! She is so well executed, everything she did had justification as to why she was doing it, she never did anything just got fun, it made an impact, she got everything she wanted! And I fucking knew there was four siblings! I knew it! One for each wind, "everyone always stops after three"! I knew it but I didn't think it was fucking Redbeard!? I didn't think that the dog in the well was a child! And Molly! My poor baby Molly Hooper! My sweet little innocent Molly Hooper! How dare they, how dare they even attempt to touch a hair in her head? I worked out it was Molly as soon as I knew the coffin was for a single woman! It was at that point I started to cry and I haven't stopped yet! I'm still over emotional! It still amazes me how stupid Mycroft Holnes is! Why would he ever think that putting Jim Moriarty and Eurus together would ever be a good thing? Why wouldn't be tell Sherlock about Eurus, about Nemo? Why would he lie to his mother and father about her? All that girl wanted was to be loved! She killed Nemo because Sherlock liked him more, she killed her guards and wardens because she was locked up away from her family for over 20 years! That would send anyone mad, who knows what it would do to the already insane? Yes, she is still a murderous cow and she deserves punishment but she was a scared little girl too! A little girl who only wanted her family! The metaphor of the plane tied everything together perfectly! Eurus was the plane, flying high about everyone else, her inteligence! The smartest of he's three siblings she flew far above them all! However, no matter how smart she is, she is on her own up there, everyone else is dead, my brothers caring about each other more than her, her parents not visiting her, Sherlock repressing who she is! She is scared and alone and plummeting to the ground and she will crash and burn! She is a beautiful, beautiful character!

[mrmichaelchadler]

The Best Films of the 2019 Sundance Film Festival

Another Sundance Film Festival is in the books, leading critics around the world to look into their crystal ball and predict how this year’s line-up will be received when these films come down from the Utah mountains. The general consensus seems to be that this was a down year for Sundance. Everyone loved the increased representation behind the camera in the program, but critics felt a lack of stand-out films. Of course, there were some excellent films but don’t expect a Call Me By Your Name, Brooklyn, or Manchester by the Sea from this crop. However, our team of intrepid, sleep-deprived critics did see a number of works that you should put on your watchlist now. You don’t want to miss these twelve:

“Animals”

How odd that female friendship—real female friendship that is; not the kind about backstabbing or rivalry—is still a scarcity in cinema. For attempting to fill that gaping hole alone, Sophie Hyde’s “Animals” (an adaptation of Emma Jane Unsworth’s novel with the same title) deserves all the praise it can get. But thankfully, “Animals” doesn’t stop there and pushes things even further than “Frances Ha”. Refreshingly frank and unautocratic about sex, drugs and the uniquely female desire to be free of judgment, “Animals” dares to love the pair of imperfect friends that lead the way into their messy and undeniably fun world of consequence-free hard-partying where men can be disposable and things will just work out. Shout out to the exceptional duo Holliday Grainger and Alia Shawkat, as well as the costume designer Renate Henschke, who rightfully runs away with some autership claim on the film. (TL)

“Clemency”

I am still a bit shocked that “Clemency” won the highly coveted U.S. Dramatic Competition award, given that it’s a character study about a prison warden and the death penalty, but I hope that further expands the chances of it being seen by a large audience outside of Park City. The script by Chinonye Chukwu is a true marvel, using a select amount of characters, a gentle tone and reoccurring themes to highlight the major elements that populate the world around the death penalty. This leads to incredible, pained performances from its actors, especially Alfre Woodard as the warden and Aldis Hodge as a death row inmate desperately waiting on a life-changing call from a governor. “Clemency” declares an incredible ambition—you can see so many ways this could have fallen apart—but it displays the work of a master dramatist, who remains in control of every filmmaking element of her challenging story. (NA)

“The Farewell”

It may not have won the U.S. Dramatic Competition award with the jury members, but the critical darling from that program was clearly Lulu Wang’s poignant and personal story of a young lady (Awkafina) dealing with the imminent death of her grandmother, who doesn’t know she’s dying. It premiered early in this year’s Sundance, and critics all weekend were comparing it to masterful filmmakers like Ang Lee, Edward Yang, and even Yasuhiro Ozu in the way it blends cultural specificity with universal emotions. It was also this year’s “ugly cry” of the Sundance film festival, but it earns that title by never once feeling manipulative or melodramatic. It’s a true empathy machine of a movie, a film that tells a very specific story that’s not your own but allows you to see yourself within it. (BT)

“Jawline”

Step into a world of teen live broadcast stars for a different look at fandom and online culture as director Liza Mandelup follows Austyn Tester, an aspiring social media star, as he dreams of using his fame to escape his small town. Mandelup captures the rapid rise and crash of what it’s like to be plucked out of obscurity, put on tour in front of hundreds of screaming girls and the isolation that sets in when the show’s over. But Mandelup doesn’t just stop with Austyn’s story. She also interviews numerous young girls who adore these young social media heartthrobs and gets some insight of a manager staking his claim in this new digital gold rush and provide some insight into this new incarnation of Beatlemania-like fan culture. (MC)

“Knock Down the House”

With a renewed activist spirit, numerous women and people from underrepresented communities took to the polls in record numbers for the 2018 midterm elections. One of the shining stars of the new wave of elected officials is Alexandria Ocasio Cortez of New York, and she’s one of four women profiled in Rachel Lears’ inspirational documentary, “Knock Down the House.” The film documents the grassroots campaigns behind Ocasio Cortez, Cori Bush, Paula Jean Swearingen and Amy Vivela, giving an all-too-rare look at the scrappier side of American politics as they challenge the established powers in their states. It’s a film that’s deeply personal and moving, pieced together over the course of less than a year leading up to the frenzy of the 2018 election season. (MC)

“The Last Black Man in San Francisco”

A lyrical elegy on a city’s vanishing character, “The Last Black Man in San Francisco” raises urgent questions around racism, gentrification and humankind’s deteriorating values through its offbeat rhythms and vivid cinematography as warm as the friendship at its heart. But to merely praise Joe Talbot’s artful film for its timeliness would do it disservice. With his directorial debut (co-written by Rob Richert and co-lead/Talbot’s childhood friend Jimmie Fails), Talbot has made an ageless film as dignified and dependable as its central character Jimmie; one that is proudly in touch with its roots and history and spiritually undefeated by the ceaseless injustices that aim for what one holds dear. This is bound to go down as one of the all-time-great San Francisco films. (TL)

“Late Night”

While this movie has earned some comparisons to “The Devil Wears Prada,” I believe that “Late Night” is in a category of its own. Mindy Kaling plays Molly, an aspiring comedy writer who’s earnest to a fault. Although she works for another woman (a marvelous Emma Thompson), Molly’s writers’ room is made up entirely of white men who see her feminist jokes and her diversity as a threat. It’s one of the few comedies I’ve seen that so smartly tackles what it’s like to be called the “diversity hire” around the office. Kaling, who also wrote the script, and director Nisha Ganatra find humor in these awkward workplace situations by playing on generational differences and the experiences of working in male-dominated world of late-night comedy shows. (MC)

“Luce”

The conversation starter of Sundance was Julius Onah’s brilliant dissection of privilege and expectation at a prestigious high school. The incredible Kelvin Harrison Jr. plays the title character, a star student whose life is turned upside down after a teacher suspects he may not be exactly what he seems. Harrison leads one of Sundance’s best ensembles, including one of Octavia Spencer’s best performances. Ultimately, this is a film designed to get people talking about its themes, and I can’t wait to be able to talk about it more when it comes out, courtesy of Neon. (BT)

“Midnight Family”

One of the best documentaries that played Sundance this year concerned Mexico City’s economy of freelance ambulances, following around a family in their vehicle as they race from one life or death scenario to the next, in order to make their payday. Director/editor/cinematographer Luke Lorentzen appropriately was given a special award this year for his cinematography—his on-the-fly framing is impeccable—but the editing is also incredible, capturing the ebb and flow of a few nights in the Ochoa’s business. “Midnight Family” is the kind of documentary that feels fully realized as the camera is rolling, making the movie all the more thrilling and heartbreaking with its cinema verité presentation. (NA)

“The Report”

I’m kind of a sucker for ensemble-driven government procedurals like “All the President’s Men” and this is the best film in that subgenre in years. Amazon has picked it up for a likely awards season run, and it’s easy to see how this could become the biggest hit out of Sundance 2019. Adam Driver gives one of his best performances as Daniel Jones, the Senate staffer assigned with determining exactly what happened with the EIT program – you know, the one that said it was OK to torture if it stopped a terrorist attack. What’s so great about Scott Z. Burns’ film is how tightly wound the whole film is, cinematically representing its protagonist’s increasing outrage at what he discovers. Even in just the ten days since I saw this, I keep reading stories of questionable governmental activity and hearing Maura Tierney’s CIA character in my head, shouting, “It’s only legal if it works!” People are going to be outraged, enlightened, and angered by this movie. I can’t wait for it to drop into the national conversation. (BT)

“The Souvenir”

It’s time for British auteur Joanna Hogg to be better-known stateside—with films like “Exhibition” and “Archipelago”, she has been cinematically untangling domestic knots for quite sometime now. With the gorgeously shot, delicate period piece “The Souvenir”, her best film yet, she brings a fictionalized version of her own story onto the screen, giving it the signature Hogg treatment: precisely composed, patient and poetic. Her Julie (soulfully played by Tilda Swinton’s daughter Honor Swinton-Byrne), whose artistic awakening gets hampered by a dysfunctional, increasingly toxic relationship, is heartbreaker of a character. You will weep by her side, thinking of that one person who broke you, but also enabled you to rise again with strength and a renewed sense of self. (TL)

“Wounds”

Babak Anvari fashioned himself as a classic horror director with his 2016 film “Under the Shadow,” which mixed a nightmarish force with a political story of Iran under attack. But he’s become a mad scientist with his sophomore effort “Wounds,” a Lovecraftian thrill-machine designed to jostle and challenge horror nuts. Anvari uses a story that might sound familiar of jump scares but focuses it around the moral misadventures of a cranky bartender played by Armie Hammer. “Wounds” is a great showcase for his comedic side, especially as his dopey character essentially finds himself in the middle of plot straight out of “The Ring,” as if he were a shit-out-of-luck innocent bystander looking through a dorm room window when a bunch of Millennials fired up that fateful VHS. A parody of jump scare lunacy that stands on its own, Anvari creates infectious fun out of the deliciously nasty and surprising events that come his way. The last shot is pure lunacy, but in the emotional and playful sense of “Wounds,” it makes perfect sense. (NA)

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