Welcome back to a little more MARRIED Mary Mania before I wrap things up with The Abridged Goblinization. I decided that this bit deserved its own chapter. Some of you seem to be entertained by Mary (or at least entertained by your own loathing of her), so I hope this will prove amusing. In my life, I've encountered an inordinate number of low-key lolcows (probably because I was far too patient and far too passive for far too long), so I might as well throw just enough distortion on the page to protect the good guys and the genuinely reformed beards. But I'm also gonna shine a bright, unflattering spotlight on the lolcows, creeps, weirdos, pervs, and BEARDS, both neck and leg.
And I'll very, very cautiously tiptoe over the bit where I do a bunch of mental gymnastics, squint my eyes, tilt my head, and convince myself that dating Whisky might be a welcome change of pace. I have no delusions when I look back on it. This was a dumb move in retrospect, but all the mental gymnastics in the world can't bring me to a reasonable scenario where I was psychic and thus able to predict what he'd become once he stopped pretending to be a gentleman. Nor can the most elite, Olympic-level mental gymnastics execute a double salto layout with a half-twist perfectly enough to force me to concede the "logical point" that I should have spotted warning signs that I'd never freakin' seen before. Okay, that's enough saltiness for today. Don't worry. This chapter mostly focuses on Mary's mania. Whisky's just kind of... there.
So there I was... dating a guy who called when he said he would, remained constant in his affections, never asked for weird stuff in the sack (in fact, we weren't even intimate at that point), and claimed to be a secular humanist who practiced elements of Hinduism (as opposed to conveniently becoming born-again whenever it suited his needs to wallow in shame). And we seemed to have similar enough tastes in media, which made for pleasant movie nights and enjoyable conversations about nerdy stuff. It felt like a step up. It felt safe. At that point in time, I was content.
But here's a shameful admission for ya. My original intention was to make Whisky the "for now guy." I knew I could do better. I was formally educated, I was in shape, I was normatively attractive, and I tended to be successful in both my theatrical and academic endeavors. Plus, I was super friendly and good with people. Whisky was kind of a bump on a log. Sure, he seemed nice. He was sometimes able to make interesting conversation. But my overall sentiment regarding the relationship was, to quote Whisky's favorite catch phrase, "Meh."
I knew he was mooching off his mysterious "big bro," and he wasn't doing this with the intention of saving up and eventually becoming self-sufficient. He just kicked up a fuss whenever he wanted something, and... it usually appeared. I still thought he was physically unattractive, too. I hate nasty-ass beards, I have a strong preference for shorter guys (they don't need to be as short as Dennis, but I don't exactly love being towered over), and Whisky had whatever the dude version of resting bitch face is. I admonished myself for being shallow and decided to soldier on. Date after date. And I did kind of get used to all the shallow things I objected to.
But, really... Dating Whisky at all was a dick move on my part. Then again, how many Nice Guy (TM)s want girls to do exactly what I did? Not attracted? Think he's kind of a bum? Find him a bit boring? Just give him a chance!!! Go on a crap-ton of dates with him until you like the familiarity enough to settle for him. That's the key to a healthy relationship!!! It never works. You could flip this around and apply it to Nice Girls who want pity dates, too.
Anyway. Lucy knew I was dating Whisky, and she thought it was great. She was honestly just happy to see that I was no longer pining over Dennis and that Whisky was no longer getting relentlessly stalked by Mary. Speaking of Mary... She'd had an imaginary dramatic breakup with Scumbanger not long after she crashed Lucy's brunch. Murky aside... The following summer, I'd do another show with the pervy pest and I'd find out that Mary had given the former Rum Tum Tugger a tug in the parking lot of The Imp and had let him motorboat her. When dozens of lewd messaged filled his inbox the following day, the most indiscriminate playboy I'd ever met in my freakin' life blocked that clingy legbeard's number and never had any further contact with her. But seeing as neither of them are especially reliable sources, my best guess is that the truth is somewhere in between.
After the dramatic "breakup" with Scumbanger, Mary immediately became obsessed with the new tech guy (and his wife). They allegedly had something of a throuple situation going on, but no one ever witnessed any hard evidence of this. And then Mary and Tech Guy's wife allegedly had a catfight in the middle of the fancy restaurant where the three spent their date nights. Mary did have a shiner and a scraped knee for a few weeks, and she intimated to me that Chuckie was actually the one responsible for her looking a little rough...
I believed her because there was something very different about her demeanor when she told me this. When she was in larger groups, she just screeched about how she thought the catfight was foreplay until Tech Guy ghosted her. Yet again, we'll never know the truth. But I err on the side of belief when someone tells me that DV is going on in their home, even if I generally regard that person as a delusional pathological liar. Plus, Mary had never badmouthed Chuckie before and she never made excuses for her philandering. She just felt entitled to any ding-dong she desired. Bottom line, I think there was an unfortunate incident, and I urged her to report it. She didn't; but that doesn't mean it didn't happen.
And, yes. I think we're allowed to show compassion for Mary if Chuckie did indeed do what she was accusing him of. She absolutely deserved to get dumped in a spectacular fashion. No one deserves violence, though. But I think we're also allowed to laugh at Mary when she's acting like a crank-crazed maniac.
Moving on to lighter topics! Mary claimed to be having a hot, steamy affair with the artistic director of The Imp. At first, this seemed outlandish. But he had been the one to hire her. And he repeatedly refused to replace her when she consistently failed to learned her lines, ran around naked, and contributed little more than mukbangs to the comedy (again, I personally found it funny when she did that, but I was in the minority).
Some skullduggery was definitely afoot. Was it "sexy time," as Mary enthusiastically claimed? Who knows. Chuckie might have been paying the dude to give Mary a hobby. But not long after Mary started boasting about boning the artistic director, he suddenly began calling her out on her unprofessional behavior. They "broke up," but Mary managed to avoid getting kicked out of the improv troupe, bragging that she could sue the director for sexual harassment if he fired her.
And then... there was the pièce de résistance of Mary's misadventures in mating. She met a biker dude at Filthy McNasty's. This guys was disgusting. Most of her previous dudes had been questionable, weird, or possibly imaginary. But we all saw this one. He was as fat as a Hutt, he smelled like a grease trap, motor oil, B.O., and a very specific type of cheese... The few teeth that he had were black and green, his fingernails were yellowed and a few of them oozed pus. Finally, the volume and crackly, bubbly properties of his frequent farts indicated to George Gay that he, "definitely had a virgin booty." Mary's lard-ass loverboy called himself "Hogg," which was probably a reference to the two-wheeled vehicle that he was very obviously too large to actually ride. Or it might have just been an obvious nickname for a filthy fat fuck.
But Hogg, like Tech Guy a few loverboys ago, had a wife. And she made frequent appearances at Filthy's as well. Hogg's wife was shockingly... kind of pretty. A little rough around the edges. Didn't smell the greatest. But she stood in stark contrast to her repugnant hubby, even with her fried hair, her sloppily inked tats, and her imprecisely applied eye makeup. Her teeth were free of obvious rot. She had a beautiful figure. And she had a carefree attitude that was probably attractive to a number of people. She'd fart right along with Hogg, she didn't shave her legs, and the profane compound nouns she came up with always cracked me up (lard-tard, smegma-booger, felch-belcher).
And Mary was once again claiming to be in a throuple with The Hoggs. But this time, there was hard evidence. They'd get busy in some corner of the establishment, and even got booted from the dive bar a few times for lewd behavior, offensive odors, and illegal drug use. On one particular night, Mrs. Hogg lit one of her hubby's gargantuan ass-rippers while Mary was doing her thing, completely shrouded by his big belly. The blue flame ignited some spilt booze on the dingy floor, and a small fire erupted. The staff were able to stomp it out, but the nasty throuple was unceremoniously banished.
Alas, management allowed Mary to re-enter the bar because she apparently had some sort of sway with one of the bartenders. Instead of meeting her...uh... "partners" for some more boom-boom, Mary decided to come back inside and gush about Hogg's majestic rooster to all of us. She smelled like D cheese, ammonia, and burnt farts as she plopped down at our table, already screeching about how much bigger her "new boo" was, compared to that vile turd of an artistic director.
George Gay: Fuck me, Mary!!! You reek. Go wash the uncircumcised methhead off your hands and then you can sit with us.
Mary started to protest. Lucy cut her off. "Your whole body is probably a veritable Petri dish from fooling around with those nasty-ass people." She handed Mary some Purell. "Was the junkie junk off, keep the bottle, and don't you fucking touch me when you come back!"
Mary's bottom lip began to quiver and she looked pleadingly at me. "Just wash up," I told her. "You're too pretty to go around smelling like that.”
Off she went to the dingy bathroom. Maybe I wasn't harsh enough, but flattery got results in this instance. And when she returned, she had managed to dilute the stench enough so that we could stand to sit at the same table with her.
Mary took a deep breath in preparation to gush about something that would have undoubtedly been disgusting, but George cut her off this time. "Mare. How do you even BANG someone with a belly like that?"
Mary (speaking a bit more quickly than usual): Oh, it just takes some creative positioning. We get him to lie down. If Mrs. Hogg is taking in the rod, I hold his bowl of jelly up with both arms and stick my cooter in his face. He eats it like his mommy made it! And when it's my turn to get blasted, the missus uses a bunch of yoga straps to hold it up. I have to take it from behind because my own little tiny bit of va-jiggle-jaggle bumps up against his bowl of jelly if why try to smash like vanilla people. It's so much fun, though!!! And then he props his bowl of jelly up on the coffee table and plays with himself while he watches his honey strap on a dil...
George: I so regret asking.
Mary: They're sooo fun to fool around with! I think they might be my forever partners! (Her hands were too shaky to slide down her body in unbridled ecstasy, so she clasped them together and hid them underneath her itty bitty little gunt.)
Lucy: So when are you gonna dump Chuck?
Mary: Well... Hogg and the missus don't have much scratch. And what they do have, they spend on smokeables. When I meet a real sugar daddy, I'll get rid of Chuckle. He pretended to be a baller before we got married. But he's just middle management and he's content to stay there. Pffffftt. No ambition.
Mary launched into another long, unnecessarily graphic gushing about her garbage partners and their nasty-ass boom-boom. So I decided this would be a good time to clear my conscience about dating Whisky. Mary hadn't so much as mentioned him in months. She was inexplicably smitten with The Hoggs. And her ultimate dream man was obviously some filthy rich dude (perhaps a literally filthy dude who was also rich), which took Whisky out of the running. I still think it would have been amusing if Mary had tried to date Mori...
I waited for her adult film star gasp to wind down before I finally interjected, "Wow. Sounds like you've got a fantastic sex life right now!"
Mary: I do! You need to get over that born-again weirdo and find a real man so that you and I can have good girl talk!
Me: Well... I'm not banging anybody, but I am dating somebody. Sort of. It's not really that big of a deal. I'm not even sure that I'm completely into him. But he's been super sweet to me...
Lucy put her arm around me, almost as if she knew I was about to need protection.
Mary: TELL ME!
I hesitated. "Well... It's Whiskers."
In an instant, George jumped up and grabbed Mary by the shoulders, lest she lunge at me.
But Mary got very quiet. Silent tears welled up in her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. She gasped and buried her face in her hands, now emitting one seemingly endless, impossibly high-pitched whine.
George loosened his grip and began to pat her on the back. Lucy's grip tightened on me and she whispered, "Here we go. Overreaction sequence has commenced."
Mary lifted her red, tear-stained face and glared at me. "HOW COULD YOU???"
Me: Mary, I swear. I thought you hated his guts. I haven't heard you talk about him in ages. When he asked, I thought it would be good for me to give him a chance since he's always been really sweet to me.
Mary: But what about the way he treated ME??? He was such an asshole!
Lucy: Was he? Mary, you stalked the guy. If he was rude, it was only because you weren't taking NO for an answer.
Mary: He never told me he wanted to end things. He just kept ghosting me. But whenever I showed up at his house and jumped on him, we always wound up smashing. Eventually.
I didn't have the gumption at that point in my life to suggest to Mary that it's wrong on every imaginable level to coerce someone into intimate activity, regardless of gender. And even knowing what Whiskers would eventually become, he didn't deserve THAT. I should have called her out. Instead I tried to steer the conversation back to her current bedroom bliss and try to get her to resume thinking the disgusting thoughts that delighted her so much.
Me: Who cares what he's doing now?! Aren't you insanely happy with your fun new lovers???
Mary: NO! THEY STINK! HE'S FAT. I want my sexy Whisky-Boo Whiskers back!!! Give him back, Valley! Puh-leeee-eeee-eeeee-eeeease.
Me: I don't "have" him. I'm just seeing him. If he hurt you this much, why don't you try to sit down and have a real conversation with him? It might be good for both of you to clear the air.
Mary: He blocked me on everythi-iiiiiii-iiiii-iiiiiing. Waaaaaaaaaah!
Me: Well, I guess that's your answer. You probably overwhelmed him. He seems like a bit of a softy. Personally, I need a softy right now. But I think you need a manly man.
Mary rose. She gave me an icy stare. And then she cooed in an unnervingly sweet tone. "I love you, Valley-Boo. I know you didn't mean to break my heart."
Me: Thank you, Mary. Really, I wouldn't have even considered his initial invitation if you hadn't been calling him "Satan," and telling us all that you hated him, and dating all these new guys. I didn't do it to spite you, I swear. It just happened.
Mary (still creepily, icily sweet): Yes. We're so alike, you and I. It's perfectly understandable that the same guy would go for both of us. But you owe me. You owe me big.
Me: I'm gonna disagree with that. If you think I slighted you, just tell me to fuck off. If you really do understand that these things happen, then you'll accept that there was no malice on anyone's part.
Mary: Mmmm-hmmmm. We'll see about that.
She jiggled her Jupiters, tossed her hair, and stalked out of the dive bar...

AND THEN SHE BANGED DENNIS.

I feel headachey and tired today but my mood feels better than yesterday so that’s good!
We were in the middle of a conversation last night, he had me utterly soaked and losing my mind and then it went silent and I couldn’t hear him and when I tell you the timing could not have been worse I am not kidding. Except it turns out he could still hear me, which I felt embarrassed about later because I was basically being a little whimpering mess because I assumed he couldn’t hear anything either like he normally can’t. So anyway now he must know he’s baby because I was saying things like baby come back and where are you like an absolute idiot. I think my brain cells lessen even more so when I’m in that frame of mind. Wait and so that means he’d already cum and was over the whole thing and I didn’t know and I kept going, and he kept like… encouraging it with the dirty stuff he was saying. That’s kind of embarrassing that he was just sat there twiddling his thumbs and there I was sounding so stupid. He’s so sweet.
I’ve decided the middle-ish bit of the miss murder song sounds like Jeff Buckley for a little bit, not the voice but the music bit. Only briefly. Anyway my poppunky phase has still returned, I feel 14 again listening to the used and stuff, what a time. I’ve only saved the main big ones to this new playlist though, I know I’m forgetting a bunch of not top 40 kinda ones but whatever these are scratch my lil itch. I’m also just having a lil nostalgic phase with that playlist - it’s wild how much my music taste has changed… but also stayed the same? I loved the klaxons back then, I’m listening to them again and I still like them, and I’m remembering lyrics when I forgot said song even existed. Maybe that’s why I remember nothing from school, because my head is filled with useless lyrics. Good one, brain. Or Simian Mobile Disco? Entirely forgot they existed. I never forgot about the yeah yeah yeahs though, I have succcchhhhhhhh a vivid memory of listening to them while walking around some suburb in Brisbane while we were visiting my aunty and uncle, I think I was 14 or 15, and I was wearing a white tshirt because I remember it started pouring down and it went see through and I felt super embarrassed. But it was night time, or like after dinner time, and I was just going on a stroll cause idk I was a teenager and probably wanted some space to be my angsty self. I remember my uncle had a movie room, not really but he called it that, and it had bean bags and stuff and he had all the HP movies, or at least whatever was out by then. And now I’m day dreaming about how I was a couple cities away from my honey, except what’s the bet he would take one look at 14/15 year old me when he was like 18/19 and be like ew get away from me you little creep. Anyway. Le Tigre were big for me. Xray spex too, the intro to oh bondage up yours still to this day haunts my mind. I listened to that germ free adolescent album a lot at one stage. I’ve just listened to a bunch of it now and I still like it a lot. I have to say the more my mood has dropped and my anxiety increased over the years the more subdued music I listen to, I wonder if it’s connected? Because I used to listen to a lot of… busy music, let’s say. Whereas now it stresses me out sometimes, and I wonder if it’s because there’s too much at once and that doesn’t mesh well with an already hectic head. Omg and MGMT, I had a biggggggg phase of them. I genuinely wanted to marry the curly haired one, I thought everything about him was so dreamy. I want to say his name is Andrew from memory, lucky me getting an even better Andrew! It’s weird to think of Andy as an Andrew, I mean ultimately he’s honeybunny or baby but he’s also Andy. And his friends don’t even call him that? I’m obviously not writing what that name is here. I think it’s so so cute that his friends kid calls him that too, or tries to. Anyway he’s just baby. I think I say the same stuff in these journals all the time.
I feel a lot of relief knowing I have no more things on til July. I’m proud of myself though, it was technically homework for therapy - to do things that make me happy. Outside of the house, around people I mean. And so she asked what I would do if I was “normal” and one of them was go to things like the ballet and plays, things I miss out on because I’m too scared. So we agreed I would go to a couple and I did!! Homework: achieved. She was really proud of me when I said the events I had coming up, I know that sounds so pathetic and stupid but I’m definitely someone that needs to hear that praise and stuff. I can get by without it, but it’s encouraging to hear it, y’know? Idk.
Work is annoying me.
I don’t get why the idea of his friend doesn’t make him jealous. I don’t want it to make him jealous, I don’t want any form of negativity around it, but why doesn’t it? Am I built that differently to him? If he even floated the idea of that to me vice versa I don’t think I would ever recover. I mean that’s dramatic and I would but I would be paranoid about it for a looooooong time. But so why doesn’t he care? It feels like I care more about it than he does, it feels like I’m more concerned about it than he is? I don’t get it. I absolutely don’t want him to be super jealous or anything like that, I know I find the whole territorial thing crazzzzy hot in fiction but in reality I would find it stifling and frustrating. But him having zero ounce of jealousy just idk, it makes me feel like he doesn’t care? If he was to feel jealous, doesn’t that mean he’d want me all to himself? So if he isn’t jealous, then he doesn’t? I know I’m overthinking this so I’ll stop. And also in the past he’s said in reality he doesn’t know if he would actually want me with anyone else, but the idea and fantasy of it all is hot, which I agree with. I mean never say never because idk I guess I kind of do want to experience him and someone else at the same time, like I wouldn’t care in the slightest if it never happened but it is something I think I do properly want. But everything else? Even if we got to the point of finding someone and it eventuating and all of that… I can’t envision me actually going through with it. Even if Andy wanted it. Except maybe I would, but not out of want but out of feeling like I should because I don’t want to let anyone down. I know that isn’t a good reason to say yes but idk. Anyway. None of this matters. I don’t think the fact he doesn’t get jealous as such means he doesn’t care. If he didn’t care then he would end things.
Not to be rude and horrid and hateful but some people have the most god awful voices. There’s a podcast of three women who talk about books and stuff and anyway they’re all American and two of them are fine, if a little grating at times, but one of them has the most disgusting voices I’ve ever heard. It’s HORRIBLE. And she keeps shouting over the others and screeching and it’s just such a gross voice. I feel so mean :(
I worked kinda late, just til 7 or so. And then I had dinner, had chats with M, had a shower, made my bed and showered annnnnd now it’s time with my baby! The sky was very pretty tonight, it was like a glowing rose gold. It kind of made me think of a copper pot on a fire. I feel like suchhhh a lil grub, I only changed my sheets today and it’s Wednesday. That means a week and half of the same sheets! Which I guess isn’t actually so bad compared to others but still. And I also shower right before bed, so in theory I know they’re fine but I like to have fresh sheets every Sunday, it’s just how I am. I can’t wait to make our bed, I wonder if he’d think it was silly to sometimes leave lil lovey notes under his pillow? Just now and then, like a lil post it size note saying something cute. Hm. I do things like that though, and I know it can be seen as super lame and things so idk. I’ll just have to learn what’s okay and what’s not. Hmmm. Anyway.
Night night

It was late November 2015. I was 51 and one year past my divorce (which was not related to cheating) when I became so disgusted with myself that I knew I had to pick myself up. I was alone for the long holiday, and although I wasn't really sad or lonely, I felt empty. However, I had some extra time to consider how does one picks oneself up.
I made a list of potential New Year resolutions that were individually realistic. Some were really easy and stupid like “have your chipped front tooth fixed” and “take & post a selfie”. These smaller tasks fueled my confidence and provided the energy boosts needed to tackle the more challenging resolutions, like starting a weight loss challenge at work.
Skip ahead to March 4th 2016. I had a Friday lunch date with a married client that I met two weeks prior. Of course, it was not a real date, as I wouldn't impose myself on a married woman, nor would I risk my career or my ego, especially if the signals she seemed to be sending were just a product of my wishful thinking, stimulated by checking off some boxes on the list on the fridge dated 1/1/16.
The following is my thank you note to her for a great date as well as for helping me check a lot of boxes over the past few weeks. I sent her a link to it as it is in the form of my first ever online post (one more check box, YAY!).
************************************** We were only 1 minute in the hotel room; her jeans in a ball on the floor. She sat at the foot of the king sized bed and backed her way into the stack of oversized pillows lining the headboard. I followed as If attached by a leash. I landed somewhat awkwardly on my elbows between her legs finding myself squarely face to face with the tattoo. This tattoo, that she so shamelessly revealed just a week ago, the same tattoo that has been scorching my thoughts and the same tattoo that she promised me complete and unlimited access.
It’s been a long time since I have been here or anywhere near as nice as here, between the legs of a beautiful woman 20 years younger and far out of my league....even when I was her age. I took a second to drink in my fortunate situation. I admired her panties. All day I was so hoping she would wear those same panties as before. She didn’t. These were different but similar enough. The delicate lace and silk perfectly framed the tattoo on her hip. She did not disappoint. There is a fruity jasmine scent, intoxicatingly pleasant, and oh so subtle. It is not here. I’ll need to find its source. I want more of that. (I remember being thoroughly impressed and thinking to myself “This girl is good”.)
I briefly forgot that there was someone else here besides myself and the tattoo. How long have I been down here perving out on her? I wondered. I hesitated, and then apologetically looked up half expecting a well-deserved snarky glare. What I found instead was an ear to ear compassionate smile followed by a tilt of her head and an arch of her eyebrow that said “I like that you like that, carry on”.
With confidence restored that we were still in sync, I adjusted myself so that I was in a good position to thoroughly enjoy what I came to do. I kissed the tattoo hard and gave it a good lick. The challenge for today was “Taste the Tattoo” and I won. I did a small celebration gesture that she rolled her eyes to. I continued to kiss and taste all around until every freckle got some personal attention. As I got to the upper most reaches of her inner thighs, I looked up to check in as I was about to cross a new line. For the first time she was not looking back at me but had laid her head back deep into the pillows, her eyes closed. I took that as a yes!
I marveled at the softness of her inner thighs on my cheeks as I gently placed kisses up one and down the other. As I kissed her through her panties, her hips responded by arching her up in anticipation of each next kiss. Before long, those wonderful panties were just getting in the way. I stopped and pondered whether to just slide them aside or remove them or to risk interrupting the mood and attempt a complete wardrobe removal as we were both still fully dressed except for her jeans.
I didn’t have to ponder long as she knew what she wanted and it was not any of the options I was considering. Still lying back with her head semi submerged within the pillows, she held out her arms as if gesturing for a hug. I moved up her body and when I got close enough she pulled me in for a kiss.
Unbelievably, this was our first kiss. I found it odd that we had not kissed yet and was grateful she thought to stop for a moment to have a kiss. We kissed some and then I settled in to thoroughly enjoy it. However, the kiss to come was not the kiss I was expecting or a kiss I was ready for. It was a kiss that could ruin everything.
Technically, there was one kiss before. It was an awkward kiss 5-10 minutes earlier just after we entered the room. All in about the time it took for the hotel door to close behind us, she tossed her bag on the sofa, had her jewelry off and set on the nightstand while I emptied my pockets and silenced my phone.
We approached each other, and as we met I was looking at the place where the tattoo would be under her shirt and behind her jeans. They were higher cut and could not be pulled down that far to get to the tattoo. They would have to come off. To just reach in and do that would be an uncharacteristically bold move for me. But I did have unquestionable permission to have the tattoo in any way that I desired. I reached down with both hands and took hold of the waistband on each side of the button. I didn’t see her simultaneous move in at me at first. Just as I felt the metal of the button, I felt her reaching her arms around my neck and realized that she was tip toeing up for a kiss. It caught me unexpectedly and I think it showed on my face that it did. I tried to recover and moved back in to accept her lips on to mine but it turned into an awkward peck.
I scolded myself for the selfish moment and just as I was trying to formulate a recovery gesture, she, without missing a beat, gently dismissed my fumble and gracefully restored the momentum. “Oh” she said with surprise in her tone, while looking down at my fingers ready to release her button. Then, in a more playfully quizzical tone, she followed with “I guess you want to get right to THAT then” and she stepped back away from me where I lost grip of her jeans. She replaced my fingers on the button with hers, paused, maybe waiting for me to look up to her eyes, which I finally did, then flashed me a devilishly naughty smile and pulled her jeans down to the top of her boots. She then proudly announced, mostly to herself, “You really are going to let me have fun with you, aren’t you!” seemingly shedding any doubts in her mind that I would go through with this. She then sat at the foot of the all white linen king sized bed, removed her boots and jeans and backed her way into the stack of oversized pillows lining the headboard.
Back to our kiss. The kiss that from now on I will reflect on as our first kiss
Responding to her hug gesture, I moved up her body and when I got close enough she pulled me in for a kiss. I didn’t flub it this time, but again, I didn’t know it was coming, and prolly I should have. It took only ten seconds to adjust and synchronize to each other’s kissing form. It was warm and succulent and sweet and was wonderful. I really was surprised at how nice this felt. I don’t recall married kissing being this enjoyable. I remember saying to myself “Damn, this girl can kiss”.
I was on top, in a position that wasn’t going to be comfortable for as long as I wanted this to last, so I backed away to reposition but she held tight indicating she didn’t want me to move. I gestured at the space next to her and she relented. We then settled in facing one another side by side; her smile confirming that this was a nice place. We were hugging and kissing, pulling each other closer and looking into each other’s eyes. Our legs intertwined and our hands were roaming, but not really in a sexual way, more like trying to make as much body contact as possible. I couldn’t get over how I felt so much more familiarity than there was. What I did not recognize at the time was that this was the physical intimacy catching up to match the virtual intimacy we have been sharing online.
Soon the intensity escalated and it was getting very hot very quickly. The intensity and passion that was building was not something I ever expected or planned for. This was the rare kind of making out where accidental hickeys happen and inadvertent “Oh god I love you’s” slip out. Not that either of those was going to happen but my safe, non-committal no emotional strings encounter was getting too hot to not risk introducing emotions into the situation. And that could happen.
At some point I was no longer kissing her lips and mouth but was kissing her.
I broke contact to catch a breath and maybe get some control of the fire. We stopped for a moment to breathe and cool off. She slid herself on top and I rolled over on to my back to accommodate her. She looked at me with eyes that appeared to agree that it was a good time to slow it down. She closed her eyes and she seemed to enjoy that I was rubbing her back with both hands that I slipped up under her shirt. She presented her lips for me to kiss and then her cheek for the same, then neck and ear and lips again. Her long hair had fallen down around us, surrounding our faces like a vail creating a tiny private and even more intimate space. Inside here it was darker and the temperature and humidity rose quickly. We were breathing each other’s breath between kisses. All of a sudden I noticed that Jasmine was back. Not subtle this time, but deep and fulfilling. I loved it.
This fragrance stuff really works. The next morning just after waking up, I caught an unexpected subtle whiff on my skin under my watch and my heart jumped by 20 beats. Who’d a thunk it possible?
The passion was building again but since I was aware and cautious now, I wanted to enjoy and go with it. I thought I could keep it measured and I did for a while as it does take two. The kissing slowed to half and so did the passion. However, the rest of our bodies started to make up for it and the touching evolved into the sexual. She was still on top of me and my hands were exploring and squeezing on her panty covered butt, then under and in those panties. Her body contact became more targeted as she was now very deliberately mashing her fun stuff all over my fun stuff. The kissing subsided but replaced with the audible accompaniment of her squeaks, moans and quicker breathing timed with her mashing I was no longer in control. The passion was under control but being replaced with something intimately erotic.
I abruptly escaped by gently rolling her over on to her back then getting up and knelling between her legs. I took a moment to catch my breath and wanted to say “That is getting WAY too intimate. Can we get naked and have sex now?” However, I tugged at her panties and said something dorky like “can we take these off now?” Yes, we were still both fully dressed except for her jeans
Since I am the kind of guy who doesn’t kiss and tell, (well, only tells about the kisses) and this is not the forum for it, I am not going to talk about the sexy part over the next 30 minutes. I will tell you that we did finally each get ourselves unceremoniously naked and then the sexy part finishes where it started, with me finishing all over that beautiful tattoo. Of course I did a small celebration gesture that she rolled her eyes to.
*************************************************
Cuddle time. Our snapchats leading up to this encounter were heavy on the anticipation and buildup but didn’t contain a lot of detail about or define what stuff would happen during our “fun” time together.
Me: “Ok then, tomorrow lunchtime, I’m in.”
Her: “OMG Are you saying that you are REALLY going to come here and let me have fun with you?
Me: “I’m REALLY going to come there. I am REALLY going to fully inspect that tattoo, as well as the neighborhood where the tattoo lives.
Her: “I so can’t wait to get my hands on you.”
Me: “WOW….Now that this is real and going to happen, my heart is beating so hard that I am afraid that people can see it through my shirt.”
Her: “You have to tell me, are you being SERIOUS right now? You can’t say this and not show up. It’s OK if you are teasing, but you have to say so that you are now….not tomorrow!!!”
Me: “I am SERIOUS and I PROMISE I will be there. You have gotten to me, BAD. All week with the way we have been talking..err..I mean snapchatting; I can’t get you out of my head. Then today with those tattoo snaps you sent; I can’t get up from my desk. LOL…..NOT kidding NOT teasing.”
Her: “I am BAD, and I like having FUN. I am going to have so much fun with you!!!”
************************************************
The only specific things I recall us acknowledging we would do with our “fun” was tattoo inspection and cuddle time. So as soon as cleanup from sexy time was done we both knew what time it was. For me, as good as the inspection was the cuddle was better. Just as during the sexy time we changed things up and we got to cuddle many ways. We started face to face full contact hugging just like our kissing time with some but less kissing and more being in the moment.
We were still hot (temperature hot now) and sweaty so that didn’t last long. She turned over and we spooned some. I was still craving full body contact but it was still so hot that we had to separate a bit. No contact spooning if you will, with just my one hand caressing her exposed shoulder and arm and hip with an occasional butt cheek squeeze.
It was about that time that we had our first ever personal conversation. On the project there were lots of flirty banter and some personal stories but almost always as part of a group. We had many phone calls and a few project meetings with just us two but never did the conversation get personal. Until now the only personal talks (Chats) we have had have been via Snapchat. I don’t recall who asked the first question of the other, but it was like a dam broke and we started filling in the details of our lives, our feelings and all the things we chatted about.
There was a lot to tell and we were giddy like children (child) best friends re-meeting on the first day of school catching each other up on our summer vacations. At one point she had something compelling to say and faster than a fish out of water she flipped back to facing me so she could gesture with her hand and punctuate through her expression. She landed close. Closer that I think she meant to at first and just a bit awkward I felt. But I was wrong. She didn’t back up an inch. I really couldn’t see her hand but I could feel that she was using it in the 2 to 4 inches of space between our chests. Her face was right into mine. She would lean back or up just an inch when she wanted me to see her eyes or smile or frown for emphasis, then settle back into the pillows with our foreheads or noses or cheeks touching. It was the farthest thing in the world from awkward.
If there was a recurring theme for the day it would be HOT; in every sense and synonym of the word. Again, it was getting too sweaty to remain that close. This time she broke contact to catch a breath and escape the heat. We stopped talking for a moment to breathe and cool off. She sat up, crawled to, and grabbed the (sexy time) clean-up towel that was at the far foot of the bed. She turned around so that she was kneeling facing me as she brought the towel up to her chest to absorb the beads and drips of sweat that had accumulated. As I watched, I again thought of my great fortune to be right here right now feeing what I feel and seeing the beauty before me. She pushed the towel down across her belly button and it fell into her lap.
I observed the soft sunlight reflecting off the white sheets, the white towel, and the white pillows bathed her in perfect light creating just a hint of subtle shadows in all of the right places on her angelic white skin. I started consciously taking photos with my mind. I wanted to capture every nuance and note every detail. I don’t know if I will ever be here again.
I don't recall if my next realization was comprehended in a split second, or if it took ten seconds to develop, but a terrible fear washed over me that for the first time in forever, she was beyond my touch and her next action might be to look for her panties or go jump in the shower. We were after all, deep into the second hour of her hour long lunch.
As I was preparing myself for the pain soon to come, I couldn't understand where it was coming from. I had the BEST DAY EVER, but I felt like an exhausted child who just watched the Disney fireworks finally and knows what that means.
What the hell? What is happening in my head? I don't even know this girl, let alone have feelings for her beyond she made my dick feel good at lunchtime.....and, I guess my ego is healthier since I met her. I have not cheated on my diet since she turned on the flattery the week before. I was sure it had to be somehow manipulative, but I hoped that if only a 5% chance it wasn't AND she liked me AND her mom was single, made it easy to keep my snacking to peas & carrots.
My self esteem has been skyrocketing too, as I have been checking a lot of boxes on my refrigerator. LOL, so many in fact, that I have been adding things to the list after they happened that I didn't dare put on it as they seemed pretty unobtainable just two months before. "Get sent a nude selfie, check. Have the confidence to send one back, check. Take a hottie 32 year old client out to lunch and fuck her brains out, check.
Did I just discover that I like girls who make my self esteem feel good more than I like girls who make my dick feel good?
Shit, that wasn't even on my top ten list. Smart, funny, pretty, Kind, whatever is the opposite of bitchy, fun in bed, boobs and/or an age appropriate figure is always nice, curious, someone you can trust to see you at your worst. Before today, "genuinely being a boost & support of my self esteem" was 10th.
Then BAM. I was hit in the face with the towel. Damn girl, I hope you can handle a spanking because I was just on the verge of making an interpersonal discovery of some importance over here, I thought to myself. I noticed the slightest or possibly mock look of concern on her face as she asks "you're not having any regrets or second thoughts over there are you?". I reflexively replied "Oh god no". Then with some emphasys, I continued "today was incredible. I REALLY needed this and you were PERFECT, thank you".
Again she did not disappoint. She crawled to the top of the bed on the far side and then to me over the pillows and laid down at a 90 angle to me on her stomach parallel to the headboard with her head nearly right on top of mine. She propped herself up a bit on her elbows and we kissed deeply. It was nice.
I made a few attempts to shake my internal drama, get out of my head and get back to my goal of picking my self up after my divorce. Oops, I mean back to pleasing a beautiful woman who clearly was not yet done having her fun with me. The emotional rollercoaster ride over the last hours, days & weeks completely blew out my brains ability to generate or absorb endorphins or whatever happens in a situation like this. Shortly after we had joked around while showering together, kissing goodbye (just like when I kissed my endorphin killing ex wife) and going on back to our separate lives.
I drove the hour or so home, brought my dog to the park and had healthiest and happiest cry I ever had. I don't know what I was feeling or why, but I was feeling again and it brought me much relief and contentedness.
We texted a bit that evening confirming that we each enjoyed our time together and agreeing that we should do that again sometime. The next day, Saturday, her husband took their 5 & 8 year old sons somewhere for the day. We checked in with each other again over text and chatted some about our lunch but the spark or excitement we usually had was not the same.
I reached out again that evening and asked if she was in a place that we could talk on the phone. She resisted but did call me (our first personal phone call). It took her 24 hours to let her cry bubble up. It turns out that our emotional experiences were remarkably similar, albeit from different perspectives.
She much later reveals that she felt emotionally dead for her hubby. She evolved to a bad place where she wanted fuck anyone but her hubby but still fucked him twice a week and had to appear happy to do it, killing her brain chemistry.
We rode the best and worst roller coaster in the world for 6 or 8 months....until the the Cocaine eventually wore off or the unobtainable became obtainable and it wasn't the the same rush for either of us any longer. She was the closest thing to a drug addiction that I ever felt. I never wanted anyone or anything like I wanted her.
My hope is that this story helps one person answer the question "Why the hell would he/she risk giving up their wonderful & loving family for an hour with a douchebag or a skank?"

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Cover Art!
Just because you’re transported to another world, doesn’t mean you’ll escape from your pain.
Abused by her parents, thirteen-year-old Frances only wants to be safe and for her life not to hurt so much. And when she and her class are transported to the magical world of Durannon to fight the monsters invading the human kingdoms and defeat the self-titled Demon King, Frances is presented with a golden opportunity. If she succeeds, Frances will have the home she never had. If she fails, Frances will be summoned back to the home she escaped.
Yet, despite her newfound magic and friends, Frances finds that trauma is not so easily lost. She is dogged by her abuse and its physical and invisible scars. Not only does she have to learn magic, she has to survive the nightmares of her past, and wrestle with her feelings of doubt and self-loathing.
If she can heal from her trauma, though, she might be able to defeat the Demon King and maybe, just maybe, she can find a home for herself.
[The Beginning] [<=Chapter 216] [Chapter Index and Blurb] [Chapter 218 May 28 or see the next chapter now on Patreon]
The Fractured Song Index
Discord Channel Just let me know when you arrive in the server that you’re a Patreon so you can access your special channel.
Frances and company catch up before the final battle.
***
“Hold on. How would he win this battle if we outnumber him and surround him?” Ginger asked.
“He could target our leadership. Focus on killing Titania, Antigones, you and Martin,” said Ayax.
“Only, he’d have to kill Sebastian and Megara, as well as Edana and you too, Frances, along with a whole list of targets. I’m not sure how he could pull that off,” said Elizabeth.
Ayax grimaced, brow furrowed, but Frances knew the answer to that question.
“Thorgoth doesn’t need to find half the targets he’s after. Myself, mom, Titania, our strongest mages and the rest of the people that will be on his list have leadership positions. Like it or not we’ll be involved in the battle and he just needs to find us on the battlefield. A well-placed spell and he’d snuff any non-magic person out,” Frances said.
“So what do we do then?” Martin asked.
Frances’ heart was pounding, for she knew the answer, but was afraid to give it life. Yet what could she do but tell what she knew was the truth?
“Take the battle to him. Thorgoth will have to operate by himself with maybe just his Royal Guards. We need to hold him and his escort and defeat him before he hurts everybody else.”
“So, all the Otherworlders, our best mages?” Ayax asked.
“Not all of them. But my mother and I, Jessica and Leila, Dwynalina and Jim and Nicole, with a few Otherworlders holding off his guards,” said Frances.
Elizabeth pursed her lips. “Ayax and I can go after Queen Berengaria. I can’t imagine her going far from her husband.”
“This is assuming we can at least split the attention of the dragons and keep them occupied of course,” said Martin. He touched Ginger’s elbow. “Not that I don’t trust you dear.”
“Oh I know, but it is a consideration.” She swirled the wine in her cup. “That means Martin and I will be directing the battle with Sebastian and Alexander.”
“It’s likely you’ll be the overall commander with Martin. Alexander and Sebastian would then take charge of their own contingents,” said Elizabeth. She bit her lip. “Do you feel up for it?”
Ginger shrugged. “I mean, we have to—”
Elizabeth reached out to pat her friend’s shoulder. “Martin, Ginger, you know we have every faith in both of you, but if you need help, there is no shame in asking for it.”
“Besides I think we’re all scared. I know I am,” Ayax said with a smile. Even so, they could all see how her tail looked like it was trying to twist itself into knots. Frances figured her cousin wasn’t trying to hide her fear, just trying not to alarm or panic them.
Martin sighed. “I think that’s the problem, Liz. Duty compels us. Love binds us. So I know no matter what happens, I know we’ll stand together to face him. Still, we are afraid and while I know I won’t run, I worry that fear may cloud my judgment at a crucial moment.”
Ginger wiped her eyes, but her tears now flowed freely down her cheeks. “How do I know I won’t panic, and make a bad call? How do we know we are all coming back? We can’t. I…I guess we have to accept that, but I don’t want to lose you. Any of you.”
Drawing her friend into a tight hug, Elizabeth gently patted Ginger’s back. “I don’t either. I suppose that for me, I’ve always looked to my faith in God, and in you all. Have we not triumphed in all we’ve faced?””
Frances found herself nodding, her throat unclenching and the tight nervousness in her shoulders and neck fading. What remained was a faint feeling of lightness that lifted her chin.
“You’re right. We should believe in ourselves, and hope. Hope for a future when we win this war. Hope that our good will triumph over Thorgoth’s evil. Hope that in a few days, we’ll be home with our family, and our friends.”
Martin gave Frances a wondering look. “How are you able to hope that?”
Frances smiled. “I think that I have always been good at having hope. I didn’t realize it until now, but even in my darkest moments, I always hoped that I would find a place where I could be me.”
Ayax stood up, raising her glass. “To faith, friendship and hope. May it see us all through our final trial.”
Rising to their feet, the five touched glasses and drank deep. They all were smiling. The pain and fear in their hearts soothed by the hope they held and the determination to see each other once again.
***
“Frances, can I walk with you?”
Frances would never have said no to her best friend, and she could tell that past Elizabeth’s bright smile, her friend was worried. There were just too many small signs learnt from years of friendship. She was scratching behind her ear, and her eyes were narrowed just slightly from the tension in her face.
“Of course,” said Frances, falling in beside the tall Otherworlder. “How are you and Ayax?”
Elizabeth giggled. “We’re great! Fantastic even. She and I are even talking about what we might do after the war. We have so many plans and well, I kind of wanted to talk to you about that.”
Frances waited as Elizabeth continued to walk beside her, lips pursed.
“I know that after the war, I’m choosing to stay here with Ayax, with all of you. I just…” her voice trailed off, and her walk slowed to a crawl.
Taking a slight breath, Frances touched her friend’s hand. “Liz, you know it’s okay for you to doubt that.”
Elizabeth stopped and shook her head. “Oh no, I don’t have any doubts about my decision. At the very least, I’m past the point where my doubts aren’t going to change my decision. I know I’ve changed too much in the past seven years. I’ve come to terms with my sexuality. I’ve fallen head over heels in love with a woman who loves me just as much. I’ve commanded armies, led soldiers into battle and helped to make decisions affecting hundreds of thousands of people. I can’t go back pretending I’m Grade 8 and neither do I want to.” She squeezed Frances’s hand. “My decision is the right one. I know it in my heart and I’ve prayed about it. I can do a lot of good here and me going back? That won’t just hurt the people I love here, but it’ll hurt me and my family at home. I can’t hide who I’ve become and I’m proud of what I’ve grown into.”
Frances closely studied her friend knowing Elizabeth wouldn’t mind her staring.
“So what are you feeling, Liz?”
Closing her eyes, Elizabeth sniffled. “Guilt. It’s stupid. I know I’m making the right choice. I’m sure in my heart that God is encouraging me to make this choice, but I still feel guilty.”
“How could you not? You know your family loves you.”
“And I’m abandoning them. I know I’m doing the right thing but I still feel like I’m doing something wrong,” said the Otherworlder.
Frances hugged her best friend, squeezing her tight, hoping that her warmth and touch could comfort the woman who she’d trusted as much as her own mother.
“Liz, if they are everything you told me, they’re going to be alright. Have faith in them, like your faith in me and your friends.”
Elizabeth let out a sigh, but returned the hug. “Thank you, Frances. If…if the worst comes and you are sent back without me, go to them. Tell them I love them.”
Tears in her eyes, Frances nodded. “I promise. If you are sent back, I will take care of Ayax.”
Elizabeth let out a gurgly hiccup. “Thank you. I know you will.”
***
The historic coronation of King Martin and Queen Ginger would found what would be known as the Congrey dynasty. Con for Conthwaite and Grey for King Jerome’s dynasty.
It was an unusual coronation as King Martin and Queen Ginger were long-betrothed but not married. Yet King Jerome and Queen Forowena’s wills had been clear. Apart from that, the coronation involved as many of Eridale's traditions as possible in light of the circumstances.
Down the parade route attended by all those that could be mustered, King and Queen marched in at the head of an honor guard composed of their closest companions. These included Frances, Elizabeth, and Ayax, who held three poles of a crimson banner that hung over the pair. The fourth corner was held by Martin’s sister Mara, who wore a slightly undignified grin. Yet, nobody could really blame her.
Martin wore a black-white checkered tunic with red-gold trimmings and shoulder epaulets. His trousers were dark gray with again red-gold tassels. Ginger did wear a dress. It was of a dark maroon with silver lacing. A bejeweled gorget studded with emeralds hung from her neck and her ears sparkled with dark blue sapphires.
There was one minor alteration. As the procession marched up to the entrance of the old Goblin Empire palace, on a raised wooden dais dressed with elaborately embroidered carpets stood the attending dignitaries. They included all the other Erisdalian lords and ladies such as Viscountess Katia and Lord Tarquin, dressed in all the finery they could muster. Other notables such as Prince Timur, representing the Kingdom of Alavaria, Grandmaster Edana of the White Order and Alexander and Eloise of Erlenberg stood proudly side by side.
Towards the center of the dais were three figures. King Sebastian and Queen-Consort Megara, and the former Queen Janize. Sebastian and Megara were standing, holding Queen Forowena’s crown, whilst the heavily pregnant Janize sat, holding King Jerome’s crown. Thorgoth may have taken their decorated helmets, but he did not have their ceremonial attire.
Martin and Ginger stepped out from under the awning, giving their bearers a brief nod, before taking the last steps up the dais.
Whistling a spell, Megara touched her throat with her wand. “Who stands before the crowns?”
Martin knelt to one knee. The bearers of the awning followed. “Sir Martin of Conthwaite. A Knight of Erisdale.”
Ginger curtsied low. Frances nearly split her lips as she grinned at her friend’s perfect form. “Ginger. Just Ginger of Erisdale.”
Janize’s expression was unreadable as she rose to her feet. There was a slight archness to her features, and yet that could just be how she lifted her haughty cheeks.
“As witnessed by all, and by the King and Queen of Lapanteria, do you swear to defend Erisdale with all means at your disposal including force of arms?”
“We do.”
“Do you swear to uphold the laws of the land and the rights of Erisdale’s citizens?”
“We do!”
“Do you swear that until your dying breaths, to govern and reign over Erisdale not for your benefit, but for the benefit of the people and for their future generations?”
From her kneeling position, Frances frowned. That wasn’t quite the right oath. The wording was “Do you swear to govern over Erisdale wisely and justly?” She supposed that she might have missed it, or maybe there was a variation.
Yet as she noted her fiance’s face, she noticed his eyes were wide and her mother’s eyebrow was arched.
Not skipping a beat, Martin and Ginger bellowed. “We do!”
“Do you swear that you will do your utmost not to make the same mistakes as your predecessors and do whatever it takes to preserve Erisdale’s peace, even if it may cost you your lives?”
Frances blinked. Janize had gone completely off script. There was no fourth oath.
However, Martin and Ginger only hesitated for a moment as they exchanged a glance and looked up to meet Janize’s gaze.
The blonde woman’s eyes were bright and the hands holding Jerome’s crown were trembling ever so slightly. Frances had wondered why she’d insisted on doing this. Martin and Ginger had wanted to approach her to ask if she was willing, but the enigmatic former queen had surprised them by demanding they allow her to crown them. She now had an idea as to why.
“We do,” said Martin, smiling.
Ginger returned that smile. Blinking back her own tears, she took a breath. “In the name of Queen-consort Forowena and your brother, King Jerome. We solemnly swear.”
Janize closed her eyes, a single tear running down her cheek.
“Then as the last heiress of House Grey, I pass the crown of Erisdale on forever. Long live the Congrey dynasty. Long live Martin the Hero of Erisdale and his queen to be Ginger, whom I dub Erisdale’s Burning Heart.”
Lifting Jerome’s crown high, she set it onto Martin’s head. Swiftly taking Queen Forowena’s crown from Sebastian, she set it on Ginger’s head.
“Hail King Martin and Queen Ginger!” Janize bellowed as Martin and Ginger rose to their feet.
The crowd chanted back, their voices filling the great cavern. “Hail King Martin and Queen Ginger! Hail King Martin and Queen Ginger!” Frances could barely hear her own voice over the crescendo. The call that they all raised. Like the sound carried up into the void, she could feel herself be carried up. It was like she was floating on the power of their united song.
Turning around, Martin and Ginger smiled at Frances. Their eyes were wide, and she could see them clasp each other’s hands tightly.
Frances found herself standing on her feet, the pole to her awning in her hand. Without a second thought, she stabbed the pole’s spike into the ground. As her hand dropped to Alanna, she paused for a moment before her mind caught up with her body, and she nodded as if to herself.
Drawing the estoc, Frances raised her blade high, saluting her two friends.
“Long may they reign! Long may they reign!”
Elizabeth was right behind her, hammer raised high. Ayax followed suit with her staff and Mara and the rest were soon drawing their weapons. From the corner of her eye, Frances even spotted Morgan and Hattie raising their wand and staff.
“Long may they reign! Long may they reign!”
***
Helias glanced over his shoulder toward the accursed city. Despite the distance, there was a tremble in the air of Kairoun-Aoun itself.
“Helias?” Sara asked.
“Sounds like they crowned Martin and Ginger. They’re going to attack soon,” he said.
Sara nodded, her tense jaw the only sign of the worry that had seized the harpy-orc. As gently as he could manage with his rough, scarred hands, he wrapped his arm around her waist.
“Sara. We’re going to be fine.”
“You’re lying,” she said with eyes fixed forward.
The general couldn’t help but wince. “Sorry.”
Slowing in her stride, Sara placed a hand over Helias’s. “I still appreciate you trying to comfort me but I would prefer you to tell me the truth. How bad is it?”
Helias looked around. “Thorgoth may pull off a miracle and get himself and Berengaria out. However, a lot of Alavari are going to die.”
“What are you going to do?” Sara asked.
“I’ll have to attend this meeting and see what Thorgoth is planning. We’ll make a plan after that.”
“You and I know it’s not going to change anything,” Sara said, looking up at her husband, who could not meet her gaze. Yet, she didn’t push him away. Instead put her hand around his waist, drawing him closer.
“I know, but I want to be sure,” said Helias in a low tone.
“I understand. See you soon,” said Sara.
***
Helias found himself exchanging side-long glances with Glowron. The pair sat, both leaning forward toward King Thorgoth and a pacing Queen Berengaria, who’d finished explaining tomorrow’s strategy.
“Do you have anything else to add, my good generals?” Thorgoth asked. The king still smiled easily as he swirled a cup of wine in his hands.
Glowron shook his head. His tone was short but he kept this expression neutral. “No sire.”
The goblin general was Helias’s superior in rank and social class. The fact of the matter was that if Glowron had no objections, then there was no way the tauroll could object.
And still, Helias felt bile rise in the back of his throat. He froze, ever so briefly. Closing his eyes, he shook his head. Nothing mattered, except for Sara and Gwendilia.
“No sir. I’ll have my troops ready for tomorrow.”
That should have been that. They would have been dismissed to prepare for tomorrow’s suicide mission, but the king’s whims had other plans.
King Thorgoth put his cup down and leaned forward. “Oh come on my good generals. Surely you have something to improve on this plan.”
Glowron’s expression remained blank, whilst Helias smiled. “Your Majesty, you were the one who taught me everything I know. I can think of nothing I can add to your strategy.”
Queen Berengaria strode toward him. “You’re usually so talkative, Helias. Are you sure you have no other thoughts?”
“I beg your apologies, but I do not have any further additions to your plan, Your Majesty. My lord Glowron?” Helias asked.
“I do not either, my liege—” Glowron fell silent and Helias’s tail stiffened.
Thorgoth and Berengaria were no longer smiling and with a few more steps, the harpy queen had put herself behind the two generals.
“Let me be plain, we are now not asking you about how to improve the plan. We are asking for your thoughts. Give them.”
The Demon King’s remaining dark eye was narrowed. The other was now covered with a black silk eyepatch, the remains of the scar that Queen Forowen had given him, a discoloration scouring a line along the side of his face and right over his ear. In spite of the king’s injury, Helias felt nothing but cold dread dry his mouth.
“Your Majesty, my only thought is that we have no option but to follow your plan. No matter how we got into this situation, the only thing we can do is go forward and try to win this day,” Glowron said.
“And do you blame me, Glowron?”
Helias watched, eyes wide as somehow the much smaller goblin general continued to meet the king’s eyes. “I would be lying to you if I said I didn’t assign some responsibility to you at all, but I believe we ought to have thought of the possibility of such a trap. So the responsibility is mine as well.”
Thorgoth nodded. Out of the corner of his eye, Helias saw the slightest of nods that Berengaria gave to her husband. Alarm shooting his gaze back toward the Demon King, Helias found the full attention of his sovereign and sometimes uncle directed right at him.
“And you, General Helias?”
Lie and he might not be able to make it convincing enough. Tell the truth about what he thought about this war and he was never seeing Sara and Gwendilia again. Thorgoth hadn’t just been hurt, his pride had been wounded and he was now backed into a corner. It would be unwise to anger him, but what to say? What could he say?
All he could think of, and see was his child and her adoring gaze. All he could feel was the touch of Sara’s hand against his. They’d become closer than he could have imagined and were more than just companions with mutual goals now.
If he was to die, then maybe he could tell this truth.
“I am mostly thinking of my wife and my child, my king. The coming battle has me greatly concerned with how dangerous it shall be.”
Thorgoth narrowed his eyes at Helias for a brief moment. The tauroll, staying very still, waited for the presumed reaction by Berengaria.
Whatever Berengaria did made Thorgoth arch an eyebrow.
“I thought you didn’t consider your wife to be worth much,” said the king in a mild tone.
His mind racing, Helias ran with the idea. “She has responded well to the constraints and discipline I’ve enforced on her. She does nothing but facilitate all my needs and has served me well.”
He could feel Berengaria’s eyes narrow, but Thorgoth was already leaning back onto his chair. “Good for you. You are dismissed.”
“Thank you, sire,” said Helias, almost unable to hide his sigh of relief.
***
Author’s Note: While I wish I could have spent more quality time with Martin, Elizabeth, Ginger and Ayax, I do love the best-friend/team that I created for Frances. This chapter and the last was my little way of giving each of them a bit of time with Frances before the final battle.

Just curious if other parents of children from blended families deal with this issue, or if this is personality dependent. Do your kids ever apologize? Mine simply doesn’t, ever. I’ve exhibited empathy, and remorse, I apologize and talk things through with him. I genuinely cannot think of a time in six years that he’s ever apologized for anything. We’ve been through family therapy, individual therapy, parenting classes, etc. My SS (14) comes from a very violent and angry upbringing, BM and BD only married because of pregnancy, and things only got worse from there, they divorced when SS was 4 because BM cheated and BD ended up stationed in Japan for four years. Insert a string of new abusive husbands, alcohol fueled parties, etc. I entered the picture at 9, and he immediately clung to me. It hasn’t been all roses, but we do our best. I know he’s been through hell, and BM has always been dismissive, demeaning and belittling of him and his needs and feelings. So I don’t expect a lot, but I figure after nearly 6 years of having a good example in me and his dad, there’d be something? This morning I had to take his 21 month old sister and myself to urgent care as she had a fever and I had flu symptoms, I told him we were going to the doctor and he went to school. Her fever spiked to 105.4 so I left him a note saying where we’d be (BD is on work travel out of state) and told him what was up and headed to the ER. When I walked in the door, he greeted us and hadn’t read the note, so I told him what happened. He replied, “Well, you could’ve at least picked me up early and saved me from testing.” (Standardized EOY testing) I paused, looked at him, and replied “I was literally in the hospital with your sister for the last two hours.” He looked at me like I’d wounded him, and how dare I not get his joke, and walked away. I apologized later and explained I’m sick, and exhausted, and that I was sorry for being dismissive of him, testing sucks and I know it’s a tough week. He says, “It’s okay.” Am I wrong for expecting him to exhibit empathy, or an apology in return? And does anyone else experience this? Do I just stay the course and try to be patient with his circumstances? Is it just teenager crap?

By popular demand, I guess...
I was kinda just being a smart-ass, but some of you wanted more so here it is: epilogues for every NPC as if they didn't continue to travel with Gorion's Ward and instead just decided to live their own life. Obviously, there are some implied alignment changes here.
This turned out to be longer than I expected and I kinda just threw it all together while I was working. Please excuse any typos or sloppy writing.
I want to apologize for one thing, though. Viconia's epilogue really only works if GW is a male, so I had to make that assumption for the sake of her story. If it matters any, I easily play just as many female GWs as I do male GWs. In fact, I probably play more female GWs because I don't care for the romances, frequently play the canon party, and want to nip the lame Jah romance in the bud.
But, to have them all in one place, I included my original smart-ass epilogues with the additional ones I created. Now, every character from BG1 and BG2 has an epilogue. I don't have the EE characters, though, because I play the original games and don't really know them.
So, just for funsies, which one is your favorite and why?
"Anomen continued to wait at the Copper Coronet for a party of adventurers willing to travel with him. Maybe it was the grating sound of his voice, or perhaps the way he leered at women, but he continued to remain alone. Eventually, he needed to find work to make ends meet. With Gorion's Ward having disbanded the slave traders and pit fights, Hendak had to find a new form of entertainment for the patrons. As such, he invented an all male review ladies night, and Anomen found work as a 'dancer'. He left the Most Noble Order of the Radiant Heart to join the less noble order of the pole. He also renounced his faith to Helm and instead allied himself with Waukeen because if you wanna see some groin, you gotta have some coin."
"Despite Gorion's Ward clearing the trolls from her keep, Nalia was not able to reclaim her lands and instead lost her estate to Lord Roenall. The lord offered to let her retain residence in her family's ancestral home, but only in exchange for her hand in marriage. Nalia found the proposition to be repugnant. Instead, she salvaged whatever wealth she could from her family's keep and moved to Athkatla to start a new life. She no longer helped the less fortunate, as she was now among their numbers and had her own problems. Nalia's lack of any practical skills combined with her sense of entitlement sent her into a life of failure followed by drinking and debauchery. She now spends more time back at the Copper Coronet than anywhere else. It is hard to say where she squanders her wealth more, the alcohol, or on the dancers during Ladies Night."
"After the incident with the Planar Sphere, Valygar was finally free of his past, could retire to his cabin, and pursue his true passion: writing. Ironically, the only inspiration he found ended up stemming from his family's checkered past. Valygar's only works that even had middling success were 'Tuesdays with Lavok' and 'Dude, Where's My Planar Sphere', with the latter being made into a production at the Five Flagoons Theater."
"Haer'Dalis continued to work as a performer at the Five Flagoons Theater. Unfortunately, it struggled due to poor management. It might have turned out better if an outside agent with fresh ideas had stepped in, but Gorion's Ward had better things to do than be a bard. While the work was generally steady, the returns were not great and the material was a little low-brow for Haer'Dalis' liking. The tiefling realized he reached rock bottom when he was cast as the lead in a play about a buffoon who apparently lost a plane-shifting apparatus the size of a small castle and had to find it before his parents returned from Neverwinter. After the opening night, he took his own life in his dressing room. His body was found the next morning with a note saying, 'Art is dead and I am art, so I shall join art in death.' Biff the Understudy stepped in for Haer'Dalis despite never having an opportunity to read the script. Nevertheless, the production was a resounding success and launched Biff's career to new heights."
“A heartbroken Garrick found work as a character actor at the Five Flagoons Theater, but eventually gained more success as a writer and director. He found it to be a mostly agreeable situation, aside from a tiefling primadonna who would constantly belittle his work and call it ”trite" and “drivel”. Fortunately, that situation worked itself out in time and Garrick found Biff to be much easier to direct. With the tiefling gone, his ideas had room to grow. He invented a new kind of love story, one where the protagonist doesn't always get the girl at the end but the journey to that ending would be quite amusing. He labeled this genre “the Comedy of Romance” and the works were mostly based on his own life. His plays were quite popular among the commoners, with his top selling shows being 'Sleepless in Saradush', 'Silverymoon Linings Playbook', and 'Crazy Rich Aasimars'. He eventually fully transitioned off the stage into the director's chair. By the peak of his fame, he was married to none other than Queen Ellesime."
“Aerie continued to work at the circus and WOULD NOT SHUT UP ABOUT HER DAMN WINGS. Even Quayle eventually grew sick of hearing about it. This put strain on their relationship. Things took a turn for the better when Ribald Barterman acquired a new curiosity for his shop. It was a magical ring which he sold to Quayle at a reduced rate out of sympathy. This ”treasure" was actually a cursed Ring of Deafness, which Quayle found to be anything but a curse and wore it for the rest of his days."
“Xzar and Montaron were both slain at the hands of the Athkatla Harpers, but this is actually where their story begins. Xzar, as he had done so many times before, had a backup plan of an arcane nature should death befall either he or the halfling. Their mortal essences were pulled to a pocket plane he created. There they could be channeled into restored bodies cloned at his estate. With this particular round of ritual, Xzar had incidentally made a slight error in the incantation and the two found themselves in a time suspended state in Xzar's pocket plane. It was only five minutes for the rest of the world, but it was fifty years for them. This turned out to be a pivot point in their relationship. Having only each other's company in this shadowy void, they were finally able to work out their feelings for each other. When they had returned to the prime material plane, they discovered their mutual animosity was replaced with love. Rather than pick up their life where they left off with the Zhentarim, they decided to pack it all in, moved to Bryn Shander, and start a bed and breakfast. Montaron rediscovered his halfling roots and love for the culinary arts while Xzar would perform seances to connect guests with their late loved ones. Scones and Bones became an overnight success and was consistently listed as a “must see” in Volo's travel guides. In their golden years, the couple co-wrote a memoir of their journey, ‘Brokeback Montaron’, which is sold in bookstores everywhere."
“After briefly crossing paths with Gorion's Ward, Mazzy Fentan continued her crusade as a de facto halfling paladin. She eventually found herself petitioning for membership at the Most Noble Order of the Radiant Heart in Athkatla after she had singlehandedly saved a village from an ancient dracolich. Despite the extent of her virtue and accomplishment, her petition was denied on the basis that halflings could not possibly be real paladins. This inspired her next crusade, one to break down vocational barriers for all demihuman races. Why couldn't halflings be paladins or dwarves be wizards? And why did gnomes always have to be illusionists? It simply made no goddamn sense. She began to get traction with her quest when she attended lectures by the wizards of the (sword) coast in Candlekeep. With their help, she ushered Faerun into a new edition era where there would be no vocational barriers for adventurers based on their race. Soon, the world began to see roguish halflings that also venerated Helm, while tending to the wilds as a druid. Half-orc bards also studied as wizards while manifesting natural arcane abilities as sorcerers. Tiefling paladins took their crusades to the wilderness and served as rangers, while sidelining as clergy to Mystra. The world was now a liberated place, free to not make any goddamn sense in a myriad of new ways. At one point, Lady Mazzy Fentan of Trademeet (now formally a paladin) crossed paths with a dwarven shadowdancebard and in that moment she regretted everything. Seriously, just take a moment and picture that. It would look fucking ridiculous.”
“Yeslick's clanhome was flooded once again. Despondent and without options, he took work at a smithy in Baldur's Gate but never stopped dreaming of finding both a clan and a home. He found a way to bring this dream to life after a courageous halfling paladin broke down the barriers for, among other things, dwarves to be wizards. Yeslick had an idea. He studied magic diligently until he was able to cast two spells of great importance: Water Breathing and Permanence. He then searched the lands for other clanless dwarves who would be willing to try something new. With the new clan he formed, Yeslick permanently gave all his fellow clansman the ability to breath underwater. They then moved into the flooded Cloakwood Mines and built the first underwater dwarven stronghold. Using his arcane powers, Yeslick also developed the ability to speak with the marine life that shared this stronghold. And, with that, the clan Aquadwarf was born. At one point, Valygar visited and wrote a play based on Yeslick's story. However, he couldn't even get it to stage at the Five Flagoons Theater. The illustrious director Garrick was quoted as saying, “A hero that can breath underwater and talk to fish? Nobody would go for that!"
“Keldorn finally retired from the Most Noble Order of the Radiant Heart and looked forward to a much simpler life. He rekindled his marriage with Lady Maria and life seemed to improve. It was rather early on when the couple discovered that Maria had become pregnant again. It was also not long after that when Peony, the housekeeper, also became pregnant. Maria started to ask Keldorn about this, but Keldorn started to get defensive and asked, ”Hey, who's the Inquisitor here?" Then Keldorn started to do the math with her to track the conception of Maria's pregnancy. She certainly did not want him to get to the end of that equation, so she quickly changed the subject. She suggested getting a new maid, but Keldorn chastised her for abandoning someone in their time of need who had been like family for years. He forbade Peony's departure claiming that his god, Torm, would not stand for it. Maria then made a passive aggressive comment about Torm being the god of loyalty, but she was mostly just muttering under her breath to get the last word in. Eventually, both children were born and had probably the most awkward upbringing of anyone in Faerun."
“After Gorion's Ward helped Coran take down a wyvern, the rogue brought the beast's head back to the mayor of Beregost for the reward and accolades. He thought this put him in a position to be a hero of great renown and perhaps, just maybe, people would stop mocking him for his flashy attire and completely superfluous eye mask. They didn't. He only gained acceptance when he crossed paths with a ranger who seemed indifferent towards Coran's keen fashion sense. Coran traveled the Sword Coast with his ranger sidekick, righting the wrongs against the ‘little guy’ and taking the law into their own hands when needed. This partnership dissolved when he discovered that the ranger thought Coran was the sidekick. As if! Coran tried to correct the ranger, whose argument was, 'Really, man, if that outfit doesn't scream sidekick then I'm Elminster's twin brother.' The ranger was not related to Elminster and shared no resemblance.
“Kivan never was able to get his revenge on Tazok. Unbeknownst to him, that honor was taken by Gorion's Ward. His thirst for vengeance continued to eat away at him until he found himself in a bat infested cave in the wilderness. It was then he snapped. He turned the cave into his secret hideaway, put together a disguise and started wandering the sword coast looking for evil-doers to punish. He would leave his calling card wherever he saved the day, a token of a bat with longer ears like an elf. And bats already had rather long ears so these bat ears were almost comically obtrusive. Nevertheless, his deeds were generally appreciated and the people stared calling him Bat-elf. For a short spell, another elf tagged along with him and tried to help, but he was so flamboyantly dressed that one could pick his sidekick out of the shadows blindfolded. Kivan eventually had to send him on his way. Unfortunately, his vigilante crusade abruptly ended after receiving a cease and decist order from DC Comics. Kivan could fight both monster and marauder all day, but his 14 Constitution wouldn't hold up against a lawsuit for trademark infringement.”
“Skie was deeply affected by both the death of her brother and the assassination of her father. And yes, her father was actually murdered and didn't lol-jk back to life in some crappy DLC. In any event, through these traumas, she came to realize the puerility of what she thought was her brilliant criminal masterminding. Instead, she decided to settle down and live a more responsible life as an upstanding citizen of Baldur's Gate. She took the reins of her father's estate after his death and rose to prominence as one of the Grand Dukes of the city. She maintained her relationship with Eldoth for quite some time, inexplicably, as he refused to get a job because he didn't want to take attention from his band which he swore was going to make it. However, the bard spent most of the day either lounging at Skie’s estate or gambling away his allowance with games of three-dragon-ante at the Helm and Cloak. Eventually, inspired by the book “Men Are From Menzoberranzan, Women Are From Immilmar," she decided to call it quits with Eldoth and sent him packing. Shortly thereafter, she met a man who was nothing like Eldoth and they settled down together to start a family."
“Eldoth's dreams of being a world-famous musician fronting the greatest band in Faerun never reached fruition. This was partly because he didn't actually have a band and partly because he didn't have the talent to write music. Instead, he just had a lute he purchased at Lucky Aello's Discount Store that only had one A-string and was missing the E-string. Also, Eldoth could only play power chords and he couldn't really sing and play at the same time. Most of the time he would just strum a chord or two and then talk about what the song would do next, often describing a solo and half playing it on an ”air lute" (while he was still holding an actual lute, mind you) to give people the idea as to how the song would sound when it was finally written. Yeah, he was one of those guys. After Skie kicked him to the curb, he bounced between various barmaids who clearly had low self-esteem, but not low enough to keep him around for long. Eventually, he got one of them pregnant and was forced into a shotgun wedding by the barmaid's father. He now works in the kitchen at the same inn as his barmaid wife. She helps the customers up front and he cooks eggs in the back. Eldoth continues to tell himself that this experience will just provide inspiration for his music and that someday he was going to get the band back together."
“After being rescued by Gorion's Ward, Xan made his way to Baldur's Gate to regroup. He spent an inordinate amount of time beating himself up over his failures and trying to muster the gumption to continue his quest to unravel the political turmoil of the region. However, it took him months to get to this point, and by that time, Gorion's Ward already sorted out the problems in the region. Discovering this, he deemed himself a failure yet again and sunk into a deeper depression. He pulled himself out of it when he met a woman who lost most of her family to violent deaths during the iron crisis, yet she still kept herself together and became a local success in a few short years. Xan immediately fell in love with the recently single Skie Silvershield and began to court her. They eventually married and started a family. At Xan's insistence, and inspired by his wife's name, their two daughters were named Sunshine and Rainbow. Xan was a staunch supporter of his wife's career and stayed home to raise the kids. When they were older and needed less attending, he followed a new dream and became a motivational speaker.”
“Korgan had his revenge against his backstabbing crew and employer, but he felt...empty. It was done, but he felt no satisfaction. Disgruntled and disappointed, he decided to lose himself in his cups at the Copper Coronet. Even this did nothing to alleviate his malaise. One night, having passed out drunk in a peasant room at the Copper Coronet, he dreamt of that final fight but something was different. In the background of the battle, there was a glow coming from the door of a shack and he heard the whispering of a language that sounded like it was from Kara-Tur. When he woke the next morning, Korgan returned to the rooftop and found the shack from his dream. He knocked and was greeted by a priest of Illmater. Korgan told the priest of his dream and he was led into the backroom where he found a man from Kara-Tur infirm and huddled over a cup of tea. The priest explained that he had just reincarnated this man of the faith using a heart delivered by a passing adventurer. Korgan took this as a sign, converted to the faith, and the two paired up to help those in suffering as a result of the schemes of others. The tales of Korgan and Yoshimo were not only told in many of a tavern by the bards, but also collected in graphic serials that were popular among the children of Athkatla.”
“Ajantis' death sent him into an afterlife at Everwatch, the realm of Helm. For his honor and diligence, the devout knight was granted an audience with his patron. Ajantis then told Helm what utter bullshit the god was. I mean, c'mon, he's the god of protection, the Vigilant One, and he couldn't protect a group of knights from a dragon's cheap illusion spell that a mage even tried to dispel with True Sight? It was like Helm wasn't even trying. Helm was stunned by the confrontation but also had no valid defense. Ajantis called Helm to a trial that was mediated by Tyr. After careful deliberation, Tyr determined that Helm was sleeping on the job and the judgment was to demote him to a lesser deity. Now, Helm was the patron of guards, but not actual guards that ever see action, just the ceremonial ones whose weapons and armor are super shiny and probably not even real. Ajantis was then granted Helm's old portfolio and became a god that truly protected his followers.”
“Viconia left Athkatla's government district perplexed. She was rescued from burning at the stake by Gorion's Ward and then immediately dismissed. She found this to be unusual behavior for a male. She was accustomed to men either trying to bed her or kill her, but this casual indifference was completely new. Viconia came to be obsessed with Gorion's Ward from a distance. She spiraled into a fantasy where the two of them had a future together. It was pretty bad. There were some extremely embarrassing vision boards involved and that wasn't even the worst of it. When her mania reached critical mass, her obsession actually collapsed and she had an epiphany. She came to realize that she did not need this man, or any for that matter. She started on a journey of self discovery and took a moral inventory of her past relationships. She wrote about it in the book, “Men Are From Menzoberranzan, Women Are From Immilmar”. She then used the revenue from the book sales to open Athkatla's first feminist bookstore. In Her Words became a mecca for women, particularly those who felt trapped in bad relationships. The community that emerged here created the group, Friends of Galia, which strove to free women from abusive relationships. Eventually, the bookstore expanded to include an apartment block above that became a shelter for such women. Occasionally, the partners of these victims would come around to In Her Words in an attempt to drag their partners back home. You can probably guess how a confrontation between a drunken 0-level commoner and a Drow priestess of Shar ends."
“Faldorn was defeated by Jaheira in Trademeet and lost her title of Arch-Druid. In truth, she was relieved to be relieved of the position. Years of pushing forward the Shadow Druid agenda led Faldorn to realize that she had lost touch with the real Faldorn along the way. After some soul-searching, she reinvented herself as a lifestyle guru and developed an entire line of organic health and beauty products under the name, She-Wolf. Both her products and seminars were all the rage in Athkatla, specifically among noblewomen who clearly had too much free time. Faldorn eventually gave up her residence in natural environs for a lavish estate in Athkatla's government district. Her following soon pressured her to petition to join the Council of Six after the fall of the Cowled Wizards left the position open (aside from a short-term replacement). Her petition was a success and she soon found herself on the Council of Six. Under her leadership, she created created the FDAA, the Food and Drink Association of Athkatla. Now, instead of draconian rules governing magic in the city, equally restrictive rules and standards were applied to the food and drink that the people consumed.”
“Barely surviving being gravely wounded by Irenicus, Tiax left Spellhold for Athkatla where he intended to do what he did best: rule. Learning from his past campaign mistakes in Baldur's Gate, he changed his slogan from ”Tiax Rules!" to “Make Athkatla Great Again”. Of course, what he thought would make Athkatla great was putting himself in charge as a despotic leader. But, he toned down that aspect of his platform and instead focused on the history of scheming and backroom dealing of the Cowled Wizards (as if he was any less evil or scheming) and promised the people he would be different than all the other corrupt politicians. Miraculously, despite his obviously apparent character flaws, he succeeded in replacing the Cowled Wizards' representative on the Council of Six. He decided to take their stance on restrictive magic to the next level and banned magic entirely. Since he didn't study the arcane himself, it was no skin of his nose. This move undermined his support base leaving him with only the most backwards and ignorant followers. He was ultimately removed from his position when he insisted the city build a wall around the planar sphere and was expecting that the city's wizards would be the ones to pay for it. After his removal, his few remaining extreme supporters organized an invasion of the main government building under the guise of freedom of assembly. All nine of these “rebels” were rounded up, tried, and sent to prison. Tiax was convicted of treason and reincarnated in Spellhold, which was now just a common prison. After his eventual release, he was prohibited from seeking any position of power in Amn."
"Edwin Odesseiron continued to lay low with the Shadow Thieves for a while. The Cowled Wizards suffered a crippling blow as a side effect of the conflict between Gorion's Ward and Irenicus. Edwin decided to step in and finish the job. His thought was that he could wipe out the Cowled Wizard remnants and then take credit for their defeat, thereby gaining him more clout among the Red Wizards of Thay. After many conspicuous mage battles in the streets of Athkatla, he succeeded. However, the people who noticed his efforts the most were actually the people of Athkatla. They were tired of living under the Cowled Wizards' iron fist and Edwin was lauded as a liberator and hero. He even had a statue in his image raised in Waukeen's Promenade. Edwin was initially nonplussed over people finally giving him the credit he always felt he so rightfully deserved. But, he quickly came to accept their praise and bought in to being a champion for the people. Edwin continued his agenda of liberation when a clearly insane gnome who found his way on the Council of Six tried to ban magic entirely in the city. Edwin and his followers were primarily responsible for having the madman removed from his seat.
“Shar-Teel, Safana, Branwen, and Alora all happened to cross paths with each other at Elfsong one evening. Shar-Teel was looking to fight a man, Safana was looking to shag a man, Branwen was recently petrified by a man, and Alora was just excited to be somewhere new. The four got to talking with each other and, despite having wildly different personalities, seemed to hit it off. Shar-Teel was sarcastic and aggressive, Safana was self-absorbed and man-hungry, Alora was kind and sweet, and Branwen was the matriarch of the group. You wouldn't think this lot would get along, but they actually did, and their differences merely become the fuel for innocuous hi-jinks week after week.”
"With Gorion's Ward's help, Cernd was able to rescue his child that he then abandoned again at the druid grove near Trademeet. He promised that he would return to raise the child, he just needed to run to the general shop in Trademeet for some pipeweed. He never returned, but that was pretty obvious since he didn’t even smoke. Cernd continued to wander Faerun. It came to light in Cormyr that Cernd had actually married, and had children, with numerous women in Cormyr, Amn, the Sword Coast, Tethyr, Calimshan, Turmish, Halruaa, Icewind Dale, Chondath, Sembia, Impiltur, the Silver Marches, and even the Troll Hills (don't ask). Furthermore, it was discovered that Cernd was not actually a druid, just a werewolf that had a Ring of Goodberries. The druid con was so that he could have a reason to abandon his wives and children and move on to a new situation. You would be surprised at how many women could fall for a guy that can conjure an impromptu picnic in the park. Unfortunately for Cernd, Cormyr was not the kind of place to run afoul of the legal system. For the crime of bigamy, he was sentenced to life in prison. He never set foot near a druid grove again, but he was allowed to participate in a work-release program tending to the gardens of nobles.
“Kagain returned to his shop and grew even more bitter, but not over what the death of Entar Silvershield's son had done to his reputation and business. Instead, he resented that even the Enhanced Edition of the game didn't give him a remotely decent companion quest. By Moradin's hammer, Cernd even had a pretty involved companion quest and the story there both starts and ends with a deadbeat dad! Also, Kagain can regenerate! Korgan can't even do that. And another thing! He was sick of people confusing the two of them as if all dwarves look alike or something. Ok, granted, they're both old dwarves with greying beards, but Korgan's beard is tied while Kagain's beard is brushed out. Of course, none of this made sense to anyone, even to Kagain who never actually crossed paths with Cernd or Korgan. However, the dwarf had nothing to do with his time except stand in his shop, isolated and alone, until he was done in by insanity and plantar fasciitis.”
“The death of Khalid shook Jaheira to the core. She convinced herself that she could never love again, certainly not so soon after his death nor with anyone that would be a child in her eyes. That would be absurd and rather tacky. After her escape from Irenicus' prison and deposing Faldorn from the druid grove, she took over as Arch-Druid. Being a Harper just wouldn't be the same without Khalid. However, the grove would allow her to explore a new, but comfortingly familiar, phase of life. She had barely been installed as the Arch-Druid when Cernd dropped off his child and disappeared again. He did not even stay long enough to tell Jaheira the child's name. Knowing he would likely not return, she named the child Khalid after her lost love. Realizing there were other children our there without families to care for them, Jahaeira would send her subordinates to wander nearby lands and bring them to the grove for a better life. Perhaps not surprisingly, many of these children happened to be Cernd's. She eventually renamed the grove to Kinder Garden in honor of the grove's new purpose of giving these children a kinder upbringing. Jaheira's headstrong personality served her well with these lost children, who all loved her as they would any mother. The Kinder Garden became the most thriving druid grove in all of Faerun. Jaheira eventually died in 1547 DR, with hundreds of children haven been rescued in her lifetime, and a memorial was erected in her honor at the grove. The inscription read, 'Nature's Servant Awaits.'"
“After being freed from Irenicus' dungeon, Minsc put his boots on the ground at the Copper Coronet. Being the simple man that he was, he found himself unwittingly recruited into fighting in the gladiator pits (before Gorion's Ward was able to free the slaves). Yet again, Minsc took a blow to the head. But this time, its effects were something completely new. No longer was he the slow-witted evil-slaying ranger, armed to the teeth and packing a hamster. Instead, his intelligence and wisdom started to blossom and he explored, through dissertation, the impact of modern civilization on the overall ecosystem of Faerun. Indeed, before Minsc started his work, the people of Faerun didn't even have the concept of an ”ecosystem". He left Athkatla to pursue a residency at Jaheira's grove where he could study and work in peace. He published works like, “The Intersection of Geopolitics and Biodiversity: Living More but Dying Sooner”, “The Essential Symbiosis Between the Savage and Civilization”, and “Moral Urbanization: Seeking a More Comprehensive Prosperity”. Minsc continued his studies and writing and ultimately produced enough groundbreaking works to have his own annex in Candlekeep. It was shortly after the dedication of this annex that Minsc disappeared from Faerun, never to be seen again."
“Jan Jansen's fate was the most impressive of all as his endeavors shaped the very fabric of Faerun for centuries to come. His story truly serves as a moral lesson for everyone and we should heed its virtue quite seriously. Helping Lissa and Jaella planted a seed of regret in Lissa with regards to her marriage to Vaelag. Speaking of seeds, this reminds Jan of a time when he was helping his Uncle Scratchy with his turnip farm. However, Uncle Scratchy was hoodwinked and the seeds he received were actually purple carrot seeds. You can imagine Uncle Scratchy's surprise when they sprouted and he suddenly had a field of purple carrots. Well, as you probably know, you can't make turnip stew, or turnip casserole, or turnip pie with purple carrots. But it just so happened there was a mage tower nearby and the resident mage needed a vast number of carrots. Apparently, her plan was to animate them as a kind of vegetable army to combat a myconid infestation in cave system rather close to her tower. Of course, animated carrots are quite self-assured and were immune to myconoid's confusion spores. Anyway, Jan had a once-removed cousin, Bobil, that was lost in those caves when he was a young gnome. He had wandered so deep that he found himself in the den of a solitary xvart who was obsessed with a magic ring. Bobil happened to purloin that ring but it turned out to not be magic at all. However, it was still worth enough for Bobil to buy himself a nice cottage in Trademeet. He then started his own turnip farm and had better luck than Uncle Scratchy. Wait, what were we talking about, again?”
“Boo continued his mission to study the sentient life forms of Faerun and determine their potential impact on the metaverse. He preferred the continued company of Minsc due to the ranger's kindness and protectiveness. Boo found this to be quite valuable in his current miniaturized state. Even after Minsc's accident, where his intellect began to expand, Minsc never lost his good heart and inherent kindness and the two remained the best of friends. It was a number of years later that the term of Boo's mission was complete. A team of his fellow people arrived on a spelljammer to collect the giant miniaturized space hamster. Minsc (and Boo) were on a retreat in a remote part of the Neverwinter Wood when a vessel shaped like a giant acorn landed in a nearby clearing. A number of human-sized anthropomorphic hamster-like beings, who called themselves the Ysoki, emerged and met with Boo. One had a strange crystalline device which it used to restore Boo to his proper size. Minsc naturally remained composed while all this was happening. He and Boo talked often and he knew this day would be coming. Boo returned to the spelljammer with his brethren to debrief on the mission. The Ysoki wanted to bring a sample back to their homeworld for further learning and study. Boo offered Minsc for the task, as the exemplar human would fit in nicely with the Ysoki's advanced culture and society. Everyone was in agreement and made the offer to the ranger. Minsc felt like he had made every contribution he could to the people of Faerun, so he accepted and boarded the ship. Boo, excited to finally be on a spelljammer again, took the helm and plotted a course for his homeworld. At his side sat his friend and faithful companion, Minsc.”

Reddit Account: u/stealthship1
Discord Tag: Ben
Name and House: Alaric Stark
Age: 45
Cultural Group: Northman
Appearance: Long hair that has begun to grey, the traditional grey Stark eyes, and a grim expression. The Lord of Winterfell has not given up his northern attire for southern comforts
Trait: Just
Skill(s): Two-Handed Weapons, Tactician, Cunning, Architect, Investigator
Talent(s): Hunting, Brooding, Meditating
Negative Trait(s): N/a
Starting Title(s): Lord Paramount of the North, Lord of Winterfell, Warden of the North, Master of Laws
Starting Location: King's Landing
Alternate Characters: N/a
***********
Born in 20 BC, Alaric Stark was the second son of King Torrhen Stark and his wife Gilliane Mormont. As a Prince of Winterfell, Alaric was raised in the ways of his people. He was raised in the shadow of his older brother Brandon, who was always bigger, faster, stronger, and better at most things. Competition was constant between them, as well with their younger brother Roderick.
Still, the young prince flourished in his own way, preferring to spread his knowledge instead of focusing on a singular thing. He enjoyed hunting in the Wolfswood and helping improve the castle.
When Aegon the Conqueror arrived in Westeros, his father called the banners and the Kingdom of the North marched south to face the Dragonlord. At the Trident, they were met with three dragons and the combined armies of the Trident, West, Reach, Stormlands, and Blackwater. His bastard uncle, Brandon Snow, offered to slay the dragons, while Brandon and Roderick urged an immediate attack, while Alaric was of the mind to retreat back to Moat Cailin. Instead, King Torrhen would negotiate with King Aegon and the following morning, he would bend the knee and suddenly was Lord Torrhen Stark and Alaric and his brothers lost their titles as princes. The Lords of the North were enraged at the idea, but the King would hear none of it as he refused to let his people die to dragonflame.
The following year, Queen Rhaenys Targaryen arranged a betrothal of his sister Serena to the old King of the Vale, now Lord of the Vale, Ronnel Arryn. Alaric himself would marry in 2 AC and his son Benjicot was born near the end of the year. Alaric and his brothers refused to attend the wedding of Serena and Ronnel, their anger about the Dragonlords and their interference.
In 5 AC, Calon Bolton, a son of Lord Bolton, lead a rebellion of nobles against Lord Torrhen for his kneeling to the Targaryens. For all their differences in opinion, the Stark brothers stood behind their father and his loyal bannermen. Tragedy would strike and Brandon was slain in a hail of arrows near the Dreadfort and Lord Torrhen would take Calon's head with Ice after forcing his surrender. Hostages and wards were taken after the rebellion and the North returned to a sense of normalcy, though Alaric would strike out to the south. He blamed the Targaryens for his brother's death and the rebellion as a whole. He would strike out with a small group of companions for King's Landing and would arrive with the intention of killing the King. That was until he actually met King Aegon and spoke with the man. That meeting would change his entire perspective on the man. Aegon was not just doing this for glory and his own power and that day he gained a new ally. He would serve time as a justiciar for the Master of Laws Dannis Darklyn.
Two years later, Aegon would be assassinated by a conspiracy of men and would fall along with six of his seven Kingsguard. House Tully was extinguished by Queen Visenya and Vhagar for their part in the assassination, though it never quite sat right with Alaric that the Tullys were the only ones named in the investigation but there was nothing else he could have done. Orys Baratheon took up the regency of the realm with both of the Queens pregnant with Aegon's children. He would return to Winterfell in 13 AC at the request of his father. It was then he spoke to his children about his wish to choose one of the queens to formally back, having maintained neutrality in the politics of the realm. The next few weeks would be a blur and as the new year dawned, there was a scream in the morning as Lord Torrhen Stark was found dead in his chambers and a catspaw was killed attempting to flee Winterfell. Rumors swirled as Alaric and his family attempted to find the culprit behind them. Some claimed one of the rebels killed him, others stated that a member of the Company of the Rose did it, and others said that one or more of Torrhen's children killed him. The murder case would go cold and leave more questions than answers.
The next year, Lord Regent Orys Baratheon called a grand hunt in the Kingswood. Lord Alaric arrived with his family in tow to partake in the activities. This would end in disaster as bandits would descend upon the hunting parties and kill or carry off many nobles. Lord Alaric and his brother Roderick would defend their families but their brother's oldest son, Gregor Snow, was killed defending his brother Royce and Brandon Snow was also killed as the Starks retreated back towards King's Landing, bleeding out from arrow wounds on the edge of the Kingswood. The disaster in the Kingswood would eventually lead to most of the Starks returning to Winterfell but Lord Alaric remained with a few members of the family to root out the bandits and get revenge for their fallen family. By the following year, Alaric was named Master of Laws, replacing Lord Triston Massey.
From there, he would remain in King's Landing, making the infrequent trip to Winterfell for various occasions. His family would also go between the capital and Winterfell. As the years passed, Alaric has done much to aid the Queens and Lord Regent Orys in the ruling of the realm. Ice was used for countless executions of noble and common criminals alike. Alaric held a respectful rapport with both queens and their sons, but refused to publicly back either one of them, hoping that Aegon's will that Orys spoke of would give a better understanding of the situation. He even replaced his brother as the Stark in Winterfell, when he felt that Roderick's support for Queen Rhaenys would disrupt the politics of the North and installed his son Benjicot instead. That time is approaching, but there is no answer yet.
**********
AC
Name and House: Roderick Stark
Age: 40
Cultural Group: Northman
Appearance: Black of hair just beginning to grey at the roots and the typical grey Stark eyes, Roderick is the quiet wolf of his family
Trait: Hale
Skill(s): Axes, First Man Warrior, Vanguard
Talent(s): Hunting, Woodworking, Writing
Negative Trait(s): N/a
Starting Title(s): Scion of Winterfell
Starting Location: King's Landing
Alternate Characters: N/a
************
Timeline
20 BC: Born to King Torrhen and Queen Gilliane Mormont
1 BC: Travels south with his family to confront Aegon the Conqueror and his father bends the knee.
1 AC: Married to Lady Dustin
2 AC: Son Benjicot born
5 AC: Daughter Jocelyn born amid the rebellion against his father. His brother Brandon is killed and Alaric becomes the Heir of Winterfell. He later travels south to King's Landing and meets King Aegon and stays in the capital.
7 AC: King Aegon is assassinated and Alaric aids in the investigation but fails to uncover any additional information.
8 AC: Son Domeric born
14 AC: Lord Torrhen Stark dies from an assassin but the culprit is unknown.
15 AC: The Kingswood disaster happens, Alaric's nephew and uncle are killed in the chaos.
16 AC: Alaric is named Master of Laws
25 AC: Lord Regent Orys calls another massive hunt to celebrate the birthdays of the sons of the Dragon
************
NPCs
Benjicot Stark - Tourney Knight
Dalton Stark - Huntsman
************
Household
The Stark in Winterfell - Benjicot Stark
Maester - Archibald
Master at Arms - Ser Clarence Whitehill
Captain of the Winterfell Guard - Eddard Cassel
Steward - Rickard Ironsmith
Castellan - Benjen Poole
Master of Horse - Hallis
Captain of the Guards in King's Landing - Torrhen Long

I was forced to marry my sister's ex-boyfriend, and he showed me in every possible way how I would never be loved by him.
"Rose." He spat, his voice was sharp and cold. "Do not compare yourself to your sister." Damian Knight stated. "You will never be her, you will never reach her potential, and you will never own my heart like she does." He took a step back with a resentful expression. "Rose Spencer, you are nothing but your sister's shadow and will never be able to escape from it. This is your curse." He stood up and left the room, leaving my heart crushed and broken into pieces.

TLDR Found husband watching porn without masturbation; I didn't know he watched it without that specific need. I'm feeling weird about it. Am I overthinking?
Little background: I'm in a, what I would consider, healthy relationship. My 25M husband and I 31F live together after being married for 1y and together for 3. We're very caring to each other and are attentive to each other's needs. We're a very cuddly and conversational couple. Each one of us has individual rooms but we sleep next to each other almost every night. We don't argue much, it can get to code Orange once in a long while. We shower each other with love and are basically friends in love as we share most interests.
When it comes to our sex life, it is a little slow for now as my husband is injured. We're pretty opened; we both watch porn individually and respect each other's "masturbation-time" if we ever interrupt the other on accident. Sex is also great (we'll find out if that's true here though); we love talking about it, we're flirty and we try to please each other a lot during the act.
A few days ago, while I was sleeping and he was out on the terrace. I woke up and was looking for him. I checked on the terrace by the window and saw him watching porn. He had headphones and didn't hear me behind. I closed the curtain and went on.
I'm not sure I understand why it bothered me when I know he normally watches when he needs to masturbate. It was a different feeling. So it got me thinking and, after dinner, he caught me in the corridor and we made out to finish in a bed of roses. After that, I was still wondering about it so I thought to turn to Reddit, to possibly shed some light.
I wanted to ask some men if they could just share the possible causes and if I have to do anything? I want my partner to be happy and fulfilled. I know I don't have the greatest body and I wish I was gifted just a little more volume but hey, what can I do.. I know he wishes it too as I don't really receive any compliments about it haha.
Is ignorance bliss here?

MM Romance

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• Her Boss: A Lesbian/Sapphic Romance (The Boss Series #9) by Grace Parkes - Amazon - (FF, contemporary, boss/employee, best friend's little sister, age gap, ice queen/sunshine) - 108 pages
  
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Kobo & Kobo Plus

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"That's a load of bull!" Gus burst out, his laughter bouncing off the cozy walls of the small diner.
"Yeah, Tony. That's not how it went down at all," Vinny chimed in, a grin spreading across his face.
Tony leaned back in his chair, swirling the ice in his glass. "Alright, then spill the beans. What really happened?"
Gus shot Tony a playful glare, trying to stifle his laughter. "Come on, Tony, I'm not playing your game."
Tony chuckled, shaking his head. "You're a real character, Gus. Vinny, what's the scoop?"
"We got ourselves another Rossi problem," Vinny sighed.
Gus sat up straight, a frown creasing his forehead. "Rossi again? How much did he stiff us for this time?"
"The whole damn tab," Vinny replied, his expression grim.
Gus slammed his hand on the table. "The whole thing?"
He glanced around the diner, his mind racing. "Tony, get the car ready."
Tony quickly finished his drink and rose from his seat to fetch the car keys.
"Sammy!" Gus called out over his shoulder.
A tall, sharply dressed man hurried over to their table.
"Gus?"
"You got a smoke?" Gus asked, his voice calm despite the urgency in his demeanor.
Sammy reached into his pocket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. With a nod, he offered it to Gus.
Gus took a cigarette, then hesitated before accepting another. "Thanks," he muttered, tucking them into his shirt pocket.
"You're welcome, Gus," Sammy replied before heading back to the counter.
"Can't stand that guy," Gus murmured. "Talks like he's got a screw loose." Despite his annoyance, he chuckled softly, though a sharp pain shot through his side.
"Let's get moving. Tony's waiting," Gus declared, pushing himself up from the table.
As Gus and Vinny exited the diner, they found Tony waiting by the rear driver's door, already open for Gus. Gus climbed into the car while Vinny walked around to the passenger seat.
"Why can't Rossi just pay what he owes?" Gus grumbled, pulling a cigarette from his shirt pocket and placing it between his lips. "I'm not asking for the world."
Gus patted his pockets, searching for a lighter. "Vinny, got a light?"
Vinny reached behind the seat to retrieve a lighter and flicked it, igniting Gus's cigarette.
"Thanks," Gus muttered, taking a few puffs.
"Maybe business is slow for him?" Tony offered as he pulled away from the curb.
"All year?" Gus shot back, disbelief evident in his tone.
Tony fell silent, his focus on navigating the streets.
"I don't want to have to resort to drastic measures," Gus admitted, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "I've always liked Rossi... but he's not leaving me much choice."
"What else can you do?" Vinny asked, his voice tinged with concern.
Gus remained silent, his gaze fixed on the passing scenery outside the window, lost in thought.
"Remember Beans?" Gus asked the car, his voice carrying a tinge of nostalgia.
"Beans?" Tony echoed, trying to jog his memory.
"Tall guy, slick hair? Used to run with Sonny's crew back in the day..." Gus prompted, eyes fixed on the road ahead.
"Oh yeah, Beans. I remember him now. What about him?" Tony recalled.
"Beans had a brother named Larry," Gus continued, taking a drag from his cigarette. "Larry owes me twenty grand as of yesterday."
Tony's expression softened. "Oh, I see."
"Anyway, Beans fell off a boat a few years back," Gus added casually, his tone belying the gravity of the situation.
"Oh," Tony murmured, understanding the unspoken implications.
"I heard Little Larry moved out to Minnesota or something after Beans passed," Vinny chimed in from the passenger seat.
"Yeah, he did. But he's making a return trip for his sister's wedding," Gus explained.
"Vicky's getting married?" Tony asked, surprised.
"No, not Vicky. The other one," Gus clarified, a hint of amusement in his voice.
Vinny twisted around in his seat to gauge Gus's expression, realizing he wasn't joking.
"Who's the unlucky groom?" Tony inquired, intrigued.
"Some hotshot lawyer from Manhattan," Gus replied, his tone dripping with disdain.
"When's the wedding?" Vinny inquired, breaking the momentary silence.
"Today," Gus replied tersely.
"We're here," Tony announced, pulling the car to a stop in front of a quaint flower shop.
"What's the plan?" Vinny turned to Gus, anticipation evident in his voice.
"First, we deal with this Rossi mess..." Gus began, only to be interrupted by Tony.
"And what's the plan for that?" Tony interjected, his tone expectant.
Gus paused, considering his words carefully.
"Let's go," Gus declared, swinging the car door open and stepping out onto the street, with Tony and Vinny following suit.

"That's a load of bull!" Gus burst out, his laughter bouncing off the cozy walls of the small diner.
"Yeah, Tony. That's not how it went down at all," Vinny chimed in, a grin spreading across his face.
Tony leaned back in his chair, swirling the ice in his glass. "Alright, then spill the beans. What really happened?"
Gus shot Tony a playful glare, trying to stifle his laughter. "Come on, Tony, I'm not playing your game."
Tony chuckled, shaking his head. "You're a real character, Gus. Vinny, what's the scoop?"
"We got ourselves another Rossi problem," Vinny sighed.
Gus sat up straight, a frown creasing his forehead. "Rossi again? How much did he stiff us for this time?"
"The whole damn tab," Vinny replied, his expression grim.
Gus slammed his hand on the table. "The whole thing?"
He glanced around the diner, his mind racing. "Tony, get the car ready."
Tony quickly finished his drink and rose from his seat to fetch the car keys.
"Sammy!" Gus called out over his shoulder.
A tall, sharply dressed man hurried over to their table.
"Gus?"
"You got a smoke?" Gus asked, his voice calm despite the urgency in his demeanor.
Sammy reached into his pocket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. With a nod, he offered it to Gus.
Gus took a cigarette, then hesitated before accepting another. "Thanks," he muttered, tucking them into his shirt pocket.
"You're welcome, Gus," Sammy replied before heading back to the counter.
"Can't stand that guy," Gus murmured. "Talks like he's got a screw loose." Despite his annoyance, he chuckled softly, though a sharp pain shot through his side.
"Let's get moving. Tony's waiting," Gus declared, pushing himself up from the table.
As Gus and Vinny exited the diner, they found Tony waiting by the rear driver's door, already open for Gus. Gus climbed into the car while Vinny walked around to the passenger seat.
"Why can't Rossi just pay what he owes?" Gus grumbled, pulling a cigarette from his shirt pocket and placing it between his lips. "I'm not asking for the world."
Gus patted his pockets, searching for a lighter. "Vinny, got a light?"
Vinny reached behind the seat to retrieve a lighter and flicked it, igniting Gus's cigarette.
"Thanks," Gus muttered, taking a few puffs.
"Maybe business is slow for him?" Tony offered as he pulled away from the curb.
"All year?" Gus shot back, disbelief evident in his tone.
Tony fell silent, his focus on navigating the streets.
"I don't want to have to resort to drastic measures," Gus admitted, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "I've always liked Rossi... but he's not leaving me much choice."
"What else can you do?" Vinny asked, his voice tinged with concern.
Gus remained silent, his gaze fixed on the passing scenery outside the window, lost in thought.
"Remember Beans?" Gus asked the car, his voice carrying a tinge of nostalgia.
"Beans?" Tony echoed, trying to jog his memory.
"Tall guy, slick hair? Used to run with Sonny's crew back in the day..." Gus prompted, eyes fixed on the road ahead.
"Oh yeah, Beans. I remember him now. What about him?" Tony recalled.
"Beans had a brother named Larry," Gus continued, taking a drag from his cigarette. "Larry owes me twenty grand as of yesterday."
Tony's expression softened. "Oh, I see."
"Anyway, Beans fell off a boat a few years back," Gus added casually, his tone belying the gravity of the situation.
"Oh," Tony murmured, understanding the unspoken implications.
"I heard Little Larry moved out to Minnesota or something after Beans passed," Vinny chimed in from the passenger seat.
"Yeah, he did. But he's making a return trip for his sister's wedding," Gus explained.
"Vicky's getting married?" Tony asked, surprised.
"No, not Vicky. The other one," Gus clarified, a hint of amusement in his voice.
Vinny twisted around in his seat to gauge Gus's expression, realizing he wasn't joking.
"Who's the unlucky groom?" Tony inquired, intrigued.
"Some hotshot lawyer from Manhattan," Gus replied, his tone dripping with disdain.
"When's the wedding?" Vinny inquired, breaking the momentary silence.
"Today," Gus replied tersely.
"We're here," Tony announced, pulling the car to a stop in front of a quaint flower shop.
"What's the plan?" Vinny turned to Gus, anticipation evident in his voice.
"First, we deal with this Rossi mess..." Gus began, only to be interrupted by Tony.
"And what's the plan for that?" Tony interjected, his tone expectant.
Gus paused, considering his words carefully.
"Let's go," Gus declared, swinging the car door open and stepping out onto the street, with Tony and Vinny following suit.

I know that the sole reason to marry off Dorothy was because Bea Arthur wanted out thus The Golden Palace exists and not a season 8. But I always thought Rose and Miles should have had the wedding finale. What they did to Rose and Miles in The Golden Palace makes no fucking sense and was just a cruel thing to do to Rose.
Miles was not my favorite but I loved the chemistry between Betty White and Harold Gould it was criminal that they had Miles cheat on Rose for no reason.
​

This all happened last summer shortly after my paternal grandmother died, and I’ve just managed to get everything in order for the judgement of internet strangers. I did my best to provide context were I could.
TL;DR: We found out we have a half sister after our grandmother died and after we were done dealing with a variety of family issues. The Half-sister contacted us against the wishes of our dad and late grandmother. Due to a variety of reasons, we made the family decision to have nothing to do with her.
So for context:
My dad emigrated from Mexico to California with his family to look for work. He and my mom were childhood sweethearts but they were not together when he left Mexico for California. This is confirmed by my parents and my uncles.
While in California, my dad met this woman and they messed around a little bit. He says it wasn’t that serious of a relationship. He was young, got drunk often and she was young and pretty. I believe my dad was in his early twenties as was this girl if my math is right. This girl was also a known flirt and slept around a lot. Naturally, she gets pregnant and claims its my dad’s. He doesn’t believe her despite her insisting its his baby so he dips.
(Based on the info from my dad, and what my sister could gather, my dad was the only one with a stable job so we think she was trying to baby trap him. I’m not trying to make excuses, my dad isnt perfect but he’s honest and loves my mom).
My dad’s family, especially his sister, did NOT like this lady at all due to the aforementioned sleeping around so she helps him get to texas. My mom had just emigrated as well and my dad wanted to be with my mom. So he leaves this girl. Baby Momma threatened with child support, or that she would abort the baby if he left which pissed my dad off. When you’re mexican and catholic, threatening an abortion is a no no. So he leaves her, meets back up with my mom, married her, and I come along. We hear nothing of them for a while and its not like the lady couldnt track him down.
Flashforward to a few years. My mom gets a call from BM’s brother where he yells at her and my dad calling him a piece of shit for leaving BM and the baby. My dad ended up taking the phone and said again, the baby isnt his, and that he wants nothing to do with them and to never contact his family again. My mom was then aware of the other girl and she was mad, but again, they weren’t together and my dad was young drunk and stupid. So they push it down, ignore it, move on and forget.
Then my grandmother died. She knew about the other girl and she believes that it is my dad’s. My grandma would travel between our house and my uncles in california where she would meet with the other girl. Everyone on my dad’s side does think she’s his daughter.
Added context that is important.
For my mom, and only my mom, my dad stopped drinking and was sober for almost 23 years. However, in 2020, being surrounded by other alcoholics and being away for days for a job, he started drinking again. My dad helps build houses and would sometimes go all the way to oklahoma Or lousiana for a job. No he didn’t cheat. His coworkers actually teased him because he called my mom so often just to talk to her. I need y’all to understand that my dad loves my mom. He would move mountains for her. He’s not a perfect person, but he was a good dad and husband. Never hit us. Never raised his voice. We destroyed his model car collection that included some expensive pieces as kids. He didn’t ell he saw we were happy and tried to hide the survivors better. He gave my mom everything.
When she found out, they fought so badly it tore them apart. My dad is also stubborn to a fault and believed he could manage it. In the end, it got bad wnough my mom let me. Have a go at him because he was not listening or doing anything. He was also stressed as my sister was in bootcamp and I was getting married. So i think drinking was just easier for him.
I tore into him that day. I cornered him and confronted him for refusing help even though we offered. I told him how much it was hurting mom and when he refused to listen, I threatened to kick him out of my wedding if he didn’t do something about his drinking. He finally did especially after we think all their bad energy attracted an evil entity. I can elaborate if asked but its not relevant. Quit cold turkey again and he and my mom talked about how they would move forward. They began going to church a lot more often, all is good. My dad is doing better emotionally and is trying to make up with my mom. We have a conversation with my mom about being more patien and communicating more.
In all of this, my mom was dealing with liver issues and the stress of all of this was not helping.
Back to the story.
My grandmother died in march of 2023. I meet my cousins through video chat bc they were in Mexico. They video the service and funeral most of which we paid for. My dad bought a beautiful coffin for her, paid for roses and the gravestone. We paid for mariachi because my grandma always wanted mariachi for her funeral. We mourn, we move on.
My halfsister contacts my dad first to try and talk to him. My dad tells her again to leave us be that we want nothing to do with her. My dad’s number is public because thats how he gets jobs. So thats how she contacted him.
So she contacts us.
No one told us about her. She knew about us because my grandma would tell her about us. But we didn’t know about her. Everyone left it up to my dad to lake that decision and he never did.
My sister and I are both contacted by this girl through facebook. The profile is new and I’d almost gotten scammed once so we’re suspicious. We play along, ask for ID, video, proof. Everything. She provides it all. BC we thought she was a scammer, we weren’t exactly nice. So we’re thinking there might be some truth. We call my dad, he denies it. Call my mom, he denies it. I have my sister call him for me again because she’s better about getting things out of him. I call an uncle that Half Sister says knows about her.
Finally, they tell us everything that y’all just read. My sister and I are reeling, but we don’t tell the other three siblings. My mom is upset wanting to know why this girl is bothering us and that she doesn’t want her bothering us. She and my dad fight and my sister and I head to them (we’d moved out). We talk to our siblings separately.
My sister and I decide we don’t want anything to do with her. She is a stranger to us, and our parents are in a good place right now. They deserve peace. Not to mention, she went against the wishes of our grandma and my mom was still dealing with her liver issues. They could not. Handle another big issue right now.
So we gather everyone. Tell my parents that my sister and I want to tell our siblings together as a family and make a decision as a family. We preemptively talked to our siblings and agreed we wanted nothing to do with her.
I would rather not get into too many details. My mom spiraled. We both have anxiety but only one of us (me) sought a therapist. She was convinced my dad would leave her and that we would hate her or turn against her. (She is not a narcissist. She has anxiety shes finally learning to manage it). I removed my mom and brought her outside to breathe while my sister talked with my dad. Both me and my dad struggle to voice what we want to say and so it was becoming a bad cycle with my mom not being fair to him. My sister helps my dad word what he wants to say. But my sister and I get a handle on the situation. When we planned this, we knew we wanted to make sure mom was good. Dad already made his opinion in the matter clear. We just also knew our mom.
My dad reaffirms that he loves my mom, and us and doesn’t want to leave her. He also tells us that its our decision if we want to talk to this girl. My siblings and us all agree that we don’t want anything to do with her. We spend some time talking, winding down, go to ihop and head home.
Where I feel bad for her:
She wanted to meet us and get to know us. My parents had five of us and we are all very close while she was an only child. So I understand where she's coming from and I have a lot of sympathy from her. She knew parts of our extended family and whatever my grandmother told her about us. You see videos online of adoptees or people who were seperated from their parents who want to reconnect with their families and they are hailed for it. Even a scroll through the comment section people praise them for the attempt and villify the family if they reject them. And I understand why she wants to meet us. We're her siblings, but I can't bring myself to.
My parents just got done dealing with my dad's relapse into drinking. My mom had forgiven him and were trying to move past it. My mom could not handle any more stress due to her liver (or maybe it was her kidneys. The doctors said she needed to watch out for her blood pressure). My sister and I knew that this would be an issue and we did our best to deal with it and act as family counselors. My parents aren't perfect, but they're good parents and raised us well and I know they love each other. They recently had a proper wedding ceremony after twenty six years. Our siblings and I are starting to finally give back to them (taking them out to eat, giving them nice gifts, replacing the model cars we destroyed years ago). We would do just about anything to make them happy.
In my eyes, our half sister (if she is blood related) went against my grandmother's wishes and only contacted us AFTER my grandmother had been dead for a few months. And then, after my dad told her not to bother us, she contacted my sister and I. I loved my grandmother. We were devastated when she died so right as we're starting to recover from that, we get with this and it pissed me off.
I understand she wants to get to know us, but I don't want anything to do with her and my siblings (even after talking with them) agreed. We don't know her. We are happy where we are right now and don't want anything that is going to ruin that. She is a stranger that is going to upend the peace that we finally have. And now, a year later, she is all but forgotten to us because to us, she really isn't anything. And its not like she's not doing well for herself. She's works as a nurse and is living her life.
So Reddit, am I the asshole (or are we the assholes) for wanting nothing to do with our half-sister who we never met and didn't know existed?

Genesis 19:24
24 And Yahweh rained on Sodom and Gomorrah brimstone and fire from Yahweh out of heaven,

This text is used a proof for the trinity. But what does the context say?

Genesis 19:12-14
12 Then the two men said to Lot, “Whom else have you here? A son-in-law, and your sons, and your daughters, and everyone you have in the city, bring them out of the place;
13 for we are about to destroy this place because their outcry has become great before Yahweh, so Yahweh has sent us to destroy it.”
14 And Lot went out and spoke to his sons-in-law, who were to marry his daughters, and said, “Get up, get out of this place, for Yahweh will destroy the city.” But he appeared to his sons-in-law to be jesting.

You see how the angels said they are send to destroy the cities themselves? Then right after they say Yahweh will destroy. The angels are representatives, destroying Sodom in the name of Yahweh who is in heaven. In Genesis 18 we see Yahweh stayed with Abraham while He send his angels to Sodom.

Genesis 18:22
22 Then the men turned away from there and went toward Sodom, while Abraham was still standing before Yahweh.

In Genesis 19:1 we read only the 2 men (angels) appeared in Sodom.

Genesis 19:1
1 Then the two angels came to Sodom in the evening as Lot was sitting in the gate of Sodom. Lot saw them and rose to meet them and bowed down with his face to the ground.
Genesis 18:33
33 And as soon as He had finished speaking to Abraham, Yahweh departed, and Abraham returned to his place.

It says Yahweh departed. It does not say where to. But in 18:22 it clearly says the angels went to Sodom.
Now notice this:

Genesis 19:18-23
18 But Lot said to them, “Oh no, my lords!
19 “Now behold, your servant has found favor in your sight, and you have magnified your lovingkindness, which you have shown me by preserving my life; but I cannot escape to the mountains, lest calamity overtake me and I die;
20 now behold, this town is near enough to flee to, and it is small. Please, let me escape there (is it not small?) that my life may be preserved.”
21 And he said to him, “Behold, I grant you this request also, that I will not overthrow the city of which you have spoken.
22 “Hurry, escape there, for I cannot do anything until you arrive there.” Therefore the name of the city was called Zoar.
23 The sun had risen over the earth when Lot came to Zoar.

Lot asked the angels if he could go to the nearby town (Zoar). One of the angels replied and granted his request, saying "I will not overthrow the city of which you have spoken."
Now notice 19:22, the angel tells Lot to hurry, because "I cannot do anything until you arrive there."
And finally, Lot arrives at the town (Zoar) in verse 23. THEN the infamous verse 19:24 comes.
All in all, the Bible clearly says that the angels were send to destroy the cities, and that they (the angels) will destroy the city. That is a fact (Gen 19:13).
Again, we also have to consider the most logical explanation from the context. Why is this explanation the most logical? Because there being two Yahwehs is in complete contradiction with the rest of the scriptures.
Verse 25, the very next verse. “and HE”. Singular. Not plural. Why does it not say “they” if “they” did it in cooperation?
The answer is that the angels are representatives for Yahweh. If not, 19:13 and 19:14 would contradict each other.

As many of you may have read, there is a case of two missing adopted kids in North Carolina, where remains have been found. The news has reported that their adoptive “mother” is Avantae Deven.
I’m a curious person and started digging up information on Avantae Deven when I first read the story in my news feed and could not believe what I was reading. It seemed like whomever this woman is must have be using an alias; Avantae Deven is not a name like Kim Jones or Mackenzie Smith.
The more I dug, the weirder it seemed to get. I found a property deed to a place in Sedona, Arizona, and figured out that whomever this Avantae person is, she at one point in time had owned a home together with someone named Nicole Adams. So I dug into who Nicole Adams was, and learned that she was the widow of a spiritual leader named Robert Adams. It appeared to me that there would be no way to identify who Avantae really was, unless I could also identify the true identity of Robert Adams.
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I've done investigative work for many years, including skip tracing. I can conclusively state that there was absolutely no person actually named Robert Adams born in New York State on January 21, 1928. This is demonstrated by the New York Birth Index. I have combed the census records for 1930, 1940, and 1950, and cross-checked them against multiple databases, and am confident that nobody with the birth name of Robert Adams was born anywhere in the United States on January 21, 1928.
Moreover, there was absolutely no person with the true name of Robert Adams who died anywhere at all in the United States, let alone Sedona, Arizona, on March 2, 1997. This is demonstrated by the Social Security Death Index.
I began this research largely by performing exhaustive searches on the known addresses that are associated with Robert, his wife Leonie (who used to use the alias Nicole), and Avantae Deven (who turns out to be their daughter Michelle who began using the alias Avantae in the mid-1990’s or so). Most of the addresses are PO boxes. Those that are PO boxes are all *private* PO boxes, not PO boxes that one can rent from the United States Postal Service. To me, that spoke volumes. The family were clearly using aliases.
As I explain further below, I eventually determined that “Robert Adams” was Robert Spiegel, born 21 January 1932 in New York. “Nicole Adams” was actually Aileen Beverly Leonie Maxwell, born February 2, 1929, in Jamaica. “Avantae Deven” is actually their daughter, Michelle K. Spiegel, born on October 1, 1960, in California.
One of Robert’s many false stories about Robert’s life that my research has refuted is Robert’s claim that his mother was Jewish and his father was Catholic. That was a lie. Both of his parents were Jewish. It’s also interesting that he claimed that he was “raised Catholic.” There is absolutely nothing to suggest that. His mother always, in New York, lived in Jewish neighborhoods. Moreover, as will be discussed below, his parents had a Jewish wedding. It’s also downright absurd that he would tell people that he was “half Jewish.” If your mother’s Jewish, you are Jewish, pure and simple. Even if Robert’s father had truly been Catholic (which he wasn’t; his name was Samuel Spiegel and he immigrated to America in 1907, lived with his Jewish, Yiddish-speaking cousins, and spoke Yiddish himself), Robert would have been Jewish because the status of being a Jew comes from the mother. Robert’s mother’s name was Fannie (nee Fleisfeder) Spiegel. Fannie’s parents were Itzik Fleisfeder and Esther Libke (nee Rifkin) Fleisfeder. Esther’s parents were Mendel Rifkin and Sarah whose maiden name is lost to time and the disappearance of the shtetls. Robert’s claim to having had a Catholic father was utterly false, but is part and parcel of his ongoing compulsive daily lying about anything and everything.
Here is the story.
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Kolomyia, formerly known as Kolomea, is a city currently located in the Western Ukraine.
On January 21, 1892 (the same year that Kolomea tallis¹ workers went on strike for better pay and working conditions), Kolomea resident Rachel Katz, wife of Abraham Spiegel, gave birth to a son, who was given the name Schmuel.
On the date that Schmuel Spiegel entered the world, Kolomea was ruled by the Austro-Hungarian Monarchy, and almost half of the city’s residents were Jewish.
In June of 1907, fifteen-year-old Schmuel² boarded the Zeeland, which sailed from Antwerp, Belgium, arriving at New York Harbor on June 18, 1907. The ship’s manifest states that Schmuel’s father had paid for his transport, and that Schmuel intended to reside with his father, Abe, in Brooklyn. Schmuel was granted entrance, and took up residence with his cousin Charles Fetner, who resided at 353 Myrtle Avenue, Brooklyn, in Apartment A with his wife Jennie and their baby daughter Ettie. The sparse record that exists suggests that although Schmuel’s father was, indeed, named Abraham, Abraham lived and died in Europe, without immigrating to America.
The 1910 census describes Samuel’s cousin Charles as a carpenter, who had been married to housewife Jennie for six years, and a father of three children-- Ettie age four, Nathan age two, and baby Jacob, who was not even a year old. Eighteen-year-old Samuel was identified by profession as a “Foreman Sailmaker” in an industry described as “pocket-books.”
Three and a half years after being granted admission, on a bitterly cold winter day, January 4, 1911, Schmuel (now employed as a pocket-book maker, and having Anglicized his name to Samuel) signed and submitted his declaration to become a United States citizen. He stated, in that declaration, that he was born on January 21, 1892.
By 1915, Samuel had left his cousin’s abode and was residing as a lodger in the home of a widow named Rose Hammer, who lived with her two adolescent sons, Meyer and Louis, at 531 E. 5^th Avenue; Samuel was now working as a “driver.”
Two years after the 1915 state census was taken, Samuel had moved back to Myrtle Avenue, but this time at building no. 849. On June 15, 2017, Samuel registered for the draft, and described himself as being a pocketbook maker, working for “A. Shoenfeld,” at 101 Crosby Street, New York. He was single. He stated, in his draft registration, that he was born on January 21, 1892.
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A woman named Fruma Fleisfeder was born in Beltz, Bessarabia, sometime between July 1, 1893, and 1901, to Itzik Fleisfeder and Esther Lieba Rifkin. Fruma (not living up to her pious given name) provided different dates and years of birth to different authorities on different occasions, making it impossible at this point in time to know her true position in the birth order of her family. Regardless, Fruma, who began using the name Fanny upon her entrance to the United States, did have three brothers and a sister who also came to America-- Louis Fleisfeder who was born April 10, 1890, Max Irving Fleisfeder who used October 10, 1892 as his birthdate, Hersch (later known as Harry), whose official birthdate was December 15, 1901, and Sylvia who was born in approximately 1906.
On December 1, 1919, Fruma arrived in New York Harbor on the ship La Touraine, declaring her intention, at entry, to become a United States Citizen. The ship’s manifest describes her as five feet five inches tall, with fair hair, blue eyes, and a fair complexion. The ship’s manifest states that she was, at that time, age 24. If that were correct, she would have been born in 1895.
Fruma (then going by Fanny) took up residence with her cousin Ethel (nee Ruchlin) and Ethel’s husband Samuel Steinberg, on 15^th Street, Brooklyn. Soon thereafter, Ethel gave birth to her first child, a daughter named Theresa. The 1920 census states that Fanny was Russian, didn’t speak English but, rather, spoke Hebrew, and worked as a milliner in a millinery store. The 1920 census also states that Fanny was age 25, which lines up with her being age 24 in the prior year’s ship manifest.
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Sam and Fanny married in Manhattan on January 24, 1925. Their marriage certificate (signed by each of them) identifies Sam as being age 32 (contradicting, by one year, his immigration records which would have placed him at age 33), and identifies Fanny as age 24, the same age that she had claimed to be six years prior, and also contradicting an immigration petition that she would file two decades in the future, which generally placed her birth year at the mid-point of 1893.
If Fanny’s immigration records (which included a petition with her signature on it) were correct, Fanny would also have been age 32 as of her marriage to Samuel, not age 24.
So did Fanny lie in her marriage certificate? Or did she lie in her immigration petition?
The marriage certificate identifies Sam as having been born in Kolomea, Austria, and his father being Abraham, and his mother being Rachel Katz. It identifies Fanny as having been born in Beltz, Russia, to a father named Isaac, and to a mother named Esther Rifkin.
The marriage certificate does not identify Fanny as having any profession, but identifies Sam as being a pocketbook maker.
Sam and Fannie were married at 125 E. 4^th Street, Manhattan, a six-story apartment building with retail units on the ground floor that is now an expensive co-op, with three-bedroom units selling for over $900,000. Present-day real estate advertisements alternatively state that the building was built in 1894, 1903, and 1905.
The first name of the rabbi who officiated was Harry. His surname starts with Reid, but the remaining letters of his signature are illegible. Rabbi Harry identified his residence as 232 Broome Street, which, at the time, was a four-story mixed use building that, among other things, housed Chevrah Ahavath Zedek Anshei Jaskinover.
Witnesses to the marriage were Mayer Budmon and Samuel Steinberg.
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Sam and Fanny’s existence was documented next in the 1925 New York State census by census. They were living at 205 S. 2^nd Street. Samuel was still working as a “pocketbook maker.” Fanny was identified as a “housewife.”
Fanny was identified as age 25. This was in accordance with her age as stated on her marriage certificate, but not in accordance with her immigration documents or the 1920 census.
Sam was identified as being age 28, which conflicted with all prior records.
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In 1930, the couple were again enumerated, this time in the Federal census. The enumerator, whose signature appears to be “Max Krahn” (or something like that) stated that he obtained the information on April 16, 1930.
Sam was identified as a “framer” of pocketbooks. He was identified as being 36 years of age, which conflicts by two years with the age that he provided to immigration authorities. Perhaps the enumerator was simply sloppy; Samuel was also incorrectly identified in the 1930 census as having been born in “Poland,” with parents who were both also born in “Poland,” notwithstanding other governmental records having identified him as being Austrian. The language he spoke? “Jewish,” according to the enumerator. Was that to mean Hebrew? Yiddish? Both?
Fannie was identified as age 30 (directly in conflict with the information she supplied in her immigration petition, which bears her signature) and as being “Russian,” with parents born in “Russia.” The 1930 census enumerator incorrectly wrote that her year of immigration was 1921. Fannie, too, was identified by the enumerator as speaking the “Jewish” language.
Although later records reflected that Sam and Fannie had a son named Irving who was born in 1926, Irving was not recorded in the 1930 census. Was he missed by the enumerator? Or was he a later-adopted son?
The couple also had a boarder, identified by the 1930 enumerator as one Esther “Larson,” age 40, born in Russia, and similarly a speaker of the “Jewish” language.
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The New York Birth Index identifies a baby boy, Robert Spiegel, as one of many babies having been born in the city on January 21, 1932.
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On May 21, 1936, Samuel committed suicide by hanging in the family residence, a tenement apartment located at 1168 Union Avenue, in the Bronx. Although, based upon the date of birth that Samuel used for official governmental purposes he was age 44, the death certificate stated that he was age 43.
Fannie engaged the Gordon Funeral Home to prepare him for burial.
Strangely, although Samuel’s headstone accurately identified him in Hebrew as Schmuel Spiegel, son of Avraham, it inexplicably incorrectly stated that he died at age 40.
Fannie of course knew her husband’s real age; both of them signed the marriage certificate that had Samuel’s correct age listed. Furthermore, Samuel had petitioned for citizenship in 1911, and stated that his date of birth was January 18, 1892.
Why would Fannie commission a headstone with a false age? Perhaps she, like her son, was a compulsive liar. Maybe that’s where Robert got it from.
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The 1940 census has Fannie (identified as age 38), Robert (identified as age 8), and Fannie’s son/Robert’s brother, Irving Spiegel, age 13, as living with Fannie’s 72-year-old mother, Esther Fleisfeder, at 1537 Fulton Avenue, in the Bronx. Fannie and Esther were identified as widows. Esther was identified as “U” (unable to work), while Fannie was identified as engaged in housework. No source of income for the family was identified.
No explanation is obvious regarding where Irving was living in the census taken a decade previously. Was he adopted?
There is no “Irving Spiegel” listed in the New York Birth Index for either 1926 or 1927. There is an “Irving Spiegal” listed, who was born April 29, 1926. But he is not Irving Spiegel.
I initially thought that perhaps Irving might be one of the unnamed Baby Boy Spiegels born in New York in 1926 or 1927, and that he left the hospital unnamed because his parents were waiting for his bris before naming him. However, Robert left the hospital with the name Robert. Why wait until the bris to name one child, but not the other?
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Slightly less than two years after she was enumerated in the 1940 census, Fannie’s mother Esther died, at home, at 1537 Fulton Avenue. The causes of death were “Coronary Thrombosis, Pulmonary Oedema Nephritis, Hypertension, Arteriosclerosis.” Esther left this world on February 6, 1942, the same day that the W. L. Steed was torpedoed, shelled and sunk less than a hundred nautical miles east of the mouth of Delaware River by a German submarine.
She was buried at Mount Moriah Cemetery in Fairview, New Jersey, the same cemetery where her son-in-law Samuel was interred.
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On November 12, 1943, Fannie, now residing at 1985 Bathgate Avenue, in the Bronx, petitioned for citizenship. She claimed, in that document bearing her signature, to be fifty years of age, meaning that if she was telling the truth, she would have been born in approximately 1893.
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On January 19, 1948, Robert (having assumed a false date of birth, that being January 18, 1931), enlisted in the New York National Guard. On paper, he had turned age 17 the day before his enlistment. In reality, he would be turning age 16 two days after his enlistment.
On December 9, 1949, Robert was discharged from the national guard, apparently for having been AWOL.
The discharge document identifies his address as being 1985 Bathgate Avenue, New York City.
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The 1950 census places Robert again at 1985 Bathgate Avenue, New York City. It correctly identifies him as age 18, and states that he worked as a shipping clerk for a newspaper company.
According to the 1950 census, Robert resided at the Bathgate Avenue address with his mother Fannie, who was purportedly still age 50 (seven years after she had previously claimed to immigration authorities to be age 50), and Robert’s brother Irving, age 24.
Irving was listed as unemployed and moreover, according to the census record, had not worked for the prior year. Fannie was employed full-time as a milliner in a hat factory.
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Military records reflect that Irving J. Spiegel, born in 1926 and a resident of 1985 Bathgate Avenue, who had completed two years of high school education, had flown bomber planes over Germany during the war. In his military documents, Irving described himself as single, with two dependents.
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On February 2, 1929, a baby girl given the name Aileen Beverly Leone Maxwell was born in Lucea, Hanover, Jamaica, to William Maxwell and Daisy (nee Tibbits) Maxwell. Her birth was registered by her parents.
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In 1954, Robert Spiegel and Aileen Maxwell were married in New York City. Their marriage license was given License No. 10284.
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The following year, the Kingston, Jamaica, Gleaner reported on June 6, 1955:
Miss Leonie Maxwell, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. W. J. Maxwell, was married recently in New York City to Mr. Robert Spiegel of the U.S.A. Both the bride and groom are students at the New York Institute of Dietetics. The bride left the island nearly two years ago for New York. Her wedding gown was chantilly lace and nylon tulle. The bodice was fashioned with a wide, scalloped neckline and elbow-length sleeves. Her three tier skirt of chantilly lace was over pleated nylon tulle. Her fingertip-length veil was adorned with pearls.
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If the claim regarding the couple studying at the New York Institute of Dietetics was even true, their studies at this institution didn’t last long. In May of 1956, a number of advertisements bearing Robert’s photograph appeared in the Kingston, Jamaica Gleaner. The advertisements described Robert as a psychologist, author, lecturer, and “practitioner in auto suggestion,” and identified him as “Dr. J. Robert Spiegel.” Readers were invited to come meet Robert on May 21, 1956, at Record Plaza, where he would be autographing his “latest” “world-wide” 33 and 1/3 RPM record, “How to Stop Smoking in 7 days by Auto-Suggestion.”
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On May 1, 1959, three residents of 1985 Bathgate Avenue, Bronx, New York, came through customs, having returned from a trip to Jamaica. They identified themselves as “Robert D. Spiegel” born in New York (in addition to giving himself a false middle initial, Robert neglected to complete the I-94-A fully, specifically by leaving his birthdate blank), “Leonie A. Spiegel” born in Jamaica on February 2, 1929, and their minor daughter, and “Sharon S. Spiegel,” born in New York. Someone also neglected to fully complete Sharon’s I-94-A, specifically by leaving her birthdate blank.
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Leonie had taken Sharon to Jamaica two years earlier. There are no publicly available records pertaining to their outbound transport from the United States to Jamaica. There is, however, a record pertaining to their return to the United States. That publicly available record does not provide their address, but Sharon is identified as weighing 1 stone 5 pounds (a total of 19 pounds), and Leonie is identified as weighing six stone 5 pounds (89 pounds). Interestingly, Leonie used the name “Aileen Spiegel,” and the records assert that Aileen has no middle initial. Aileen was / is her true legal first name, but it is a lie to say that she has no middle initial.
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Almost two years later, on January 5, 1958, the Kingston, Jamaica Gleaner reported:
Staying at the Tamarind Hotel are Mr. and Mrs. Bob Spiegel and daughter Sharon of Miami, Florida. Mrs. Spiegel is the former Leonie Maxwell, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. W. J. Maxwell of Lucea and has been in the United States for several years. A welcome party in their honour was given last Saturday night by Messers. Horrace, Ray, and Dennis Maxwell, brothers of Mrs. Spiegel. It was a very enjoyable affair.
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In 1963, roughly five years after their 1958 visit to Jamaica, Leonie petitioned for naturalization, in Louisiana. Although I am in possession of the index showing that she petitioned in 1963, I do not possess the petition itself. However, the fact that she petitioned for naturalization in Louisiana demonstrates that that at least she was residing in Louisiana at the time. Since she stated that she didn’t leave Robert’s side for over 40 years, presumably Robert, young Sharon, and also baby Michelle were living in Louisiana at that time.
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People who knew Robert personally relate that he stated that Leonie was a Cayman Island heiress. She wasn’t. Not only was she not born in the Cayman Islands, Leonie’s father’s estate was litigated (with the judge ruling against her) long before Robert started telling people that his wife was a Cayman Islands heiress.
Leonie’s father did leave an estate, but not to her. On November 9, 1967, the Gleaner reported that the Supreme Court had upheld the will of the late William Josiah Maxwell, the father of Horrace, Ray, Dennis, and Leonie, and the husband of Daisy Maxwell, who had contended that William’s signature was a forgery and that the person to whom his estate had been bequeathed had exercised undue influence. The court disagreed. The article reported:
The estate, which one of the executors described as “a sizeable one,” included 112 acres of land at Paradise and three houses at Lucea, Hanover.
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Robert apparently wasn’t banking on Leonie’s inheritance in any event. In May of 1966, advertisements appeared in the Houston Chronicle with Robert’s photo on them, selling a record that would purportedly assist people in stopping smoking in seven days. He identified himself as “Dr. J. Robert Spiegel.”
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On page 55 of the November 15, 1969, San Antonio, Texas Express and News, was an advertisement stating:
SCIENCE OF THE MIND
Dr. J. Robert Spiegel of Houston, director and founder of the Science of the Mind Foundation there, is conducting Sunday evening meetings at 7:30 p.m. in the Sheraton Inn, 1400 Austin Hwy.
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On page 4 of the July 10, 1970 edition of the Fort Worth Star-Telegram was a photograph of Robert, with a brief local news blurb:
GUEST – Dr. J Robert Spiegel of Houston, Science of Mind Foundation director, will speak at the 10:45 a.m. service tomorrow in First Church of Religious Science, 2001 6^th Ave. His subject is “What Religious Science Teaches.”
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On page 8 of the June 18, 1970 edition of the Houston Daily Cougar was this advertisement:
HOME OF UNIVERSAL LIFE
“Teaching Aquarian Meditation For The New Age
Meets Every Sunday, 11:00 A.M. At The World Trade Center Auditorium
Houston, Texas
DR. J. ROBERT SPIEGEL (BRAHMADANDA) DIRECTOR - FOUNDER
Aquarian Meditation Initiation for the first time offered through correspondence. For those sincere students wishing to bypass evolution and enter the 5th Kingdom. Initiation includes meditation technique, Mantra, how to "live” 24 hours a day, and much more. Write for application today:
P.O. Box 53328 Houston, Texas 052
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From the Galveston Daily News, May 02, 1971, Pg. 31:
AQUARIAN MEDITATION SOCIETY PRESENTS DR. J. ROBERT SPIEGEL AN AUTHOR, LECTURER, TEACHER OF YOGA & SELF DEVELOPMENT WILL SPEAK ON MAN, MIND & THE UNIVERSE WEDNESDAY, MAY 5th AT 7:30 P.M. IN THE RECREATION CENTER HARRIS COUNTY PARK, NASA RD. # 1 ALL WELCOME — DONATION $1.50
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The 1972 Spiritual Community Guide lists Robert twice, in the San Diego area. First, on page 117, using his alias “J. Robert Spiegel”:
THE TEMPLE OF METAPHYSICAL ABUNDANCE. J. Robert Spiegel, 1118 Torrey Pines Rd., 92037. Teaches yoga, nutrition, ESP, metaphysics, psychology, mind control
Second, on page 124, in which he, as one might have predicted, was masquerading as some sort of medical man or scholar:
"AQUARIAN MEDITATION SOCIETY, U. S. Grant Hotel, Attn: Dr. Robert Spiegel, 453-7588"
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Also in 1972, Volume 25 of San Diego Magazine published in November advertised gift certificates for the “Astrology Research Center.” “Give your loved one the gift of love. Only $50” said the advertisement. Where was this entity located? At 1118 Torrey Pines Road, the same address as Robert’s Temple of Metaphysical Abundance. The advertisement purported that person identified as “Lil Canaan” was the director. The telephone number was 459-6400.
In 2013, the San Diego Union Tribune published the obituary for Lillian Mulonas, who founded the La Jolla “Astrology Research Center.” At this point in time, unless Robert Adams’ only surviving daughter, Michelle/ Prentiss/ Avantae knows the answer and talks, we will not know what relationship, if any, existed between Robert’s Temple of Metaphysical Abundance and Lilian’s Astrology Research Center, both of which were located at 1118 Torrey Pines Road in 1972.
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From the July 12, 1973, San Diego Reader:
BRAHMADANDA FOUNDATION
“Teachings of the Cosmic Way” meets Sundays, 11:00 a.m., U.S. Grant Hotel, Crystal Room. Free admission, refreshments served. Call 453-7588 for more information.
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On page 51 of the June 29, 1974 edition of Phoenix’s Arizona Republic was the following advertisement:
Speaker from San Diego
Dr. J. Robert Spiegel from San Diego, a traveler and lecturer, will speak at 8 p.m., Friday in Universal Series Center, 4340 N. Seventh Ave., on the topic “Science of Being.”
He is the founder of the “Aquarian Meditation Society” in Jamaica and is founder and publisher of “Equinox,” a philosophical newspaper.
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The family (Adams or Spiegel, however one might want to refer to them) have resided in (that I know of) New York, Miami, Jamaica, Louisiana, La Jolla, Los Angeles, Houston, New Mexico, Hawaii, Las Vegas, Scottsdale, Sedona, and a number of cities in North Carolina.
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In at least the 1990’s, before he left for Sedona, Robert Adams used the address PO Box 7210, Jordan Avenue, D-30, Canoga Park, CA. He used that address on correspondence he wrote, and on at least one published document. Who else used that address? The data aggregators show that this address was also used by a Michelle K. Spiegel, and a person going by the name Leonie Maxwell. Michelle and Leonie also used other addresses associated with Robert, those being 1815 Willis Avenue Panorama City, and 21551 Burbank Boulevard, Woodland Hills.
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The California Birth Index shows that Michelle K. Spiegel was born on October 1, 1960, in Los Angeles County, to a mother with the maiden name Maxwell.
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In later life, Michelle used the addresses above that are associated with Robert and Leonie, as well as an address of 12004 Vanowen Street #14, North Hollywood. This is the same address at which Denniston Keith Maxwell, one of Leonie’s younger brothers, resided at, after his immigration to the United States. Denniston was one of Michelle’s uncles.
In a recent Facebook posting, Michelle/Avantae stated: “Never knew anything personal about said uncles, etc. Never asked, never cared.” Really? She shared an address with an uncle? Her uncle lived within a few minutes’ drive from her parents, and Michelle/Avantae never knew anything about him?
As an aside, Michelle/Avantae alleged (or admitted) that she “never cared” about anything personal regarding her uncles. If that is true, what does that tell us about Michelle/Avantae’s fundamental character? Antisocial? Psychopathic? Narcissistic in the extreme?
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On August 2, 1996, Michelle, going by the name Avantae E. Deven, married Tyson Ruben Alvarez in Las Vegas. The two had addresses in common in Arizona, Nevada, and Montana.
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Robert “Adams” died on or about March 2, 1997, in Sedona, Arizona.
Shortly after that, in the spring of 1997, “Nicole Adams” and “Avantae Deven” (both aliases; the correct legal names are Aileen Beverly Leonie Spiegel and Michelle K. Spiegel) purchased a home together in Sedona, on Navahopi Road. Shortly after the purchase, “Nicole” quit-claimed her portion to “Avantae.”
On July 17, 2001, Tyson, still married to “Avantae,” quit-claimed any interest in the Navahopi property to “Avantae,” and had the county recorder send the deed to “Avantae” in care of the Infinity Institute, at that time located at 9101 W. Sahara Ave. Suite 105 C29 (in other words, a private post box), in Las Vegas.
Avantae divorced Tyson in 2006. She had, by then, moved to North Carolina. She “served” Tyson via publication summons, claiming that she was unable to find him, despite his information being on multiple data aggregators.
You can go to various Facebook groups, and other sources, to pull up the documents that people have uncovered showing who is associated with the "Infinity Institute," and in what fashion, and also the addresses that they have used over the years.
In any event, this is the information regarding Robert that I think that people need to be aware of.
Why turn to a known liar and con man for spiritual guidance?
1A tallis is a prayer shawl.
2The ship’s manifest states that he was age 14, which conflicts by one year with what Samuel identified as his date of birth. These errors are not uncommon; his fare could have been purchased when he was age 14 and the records not updated.