I Defiantly See Wrinkles as Evidence of Shared Joy.

I never expected to be stood here today. Deep inside, I think I believed Granny would live forever. Of course, it would be unfair to wish immortality on another person, but Granny wasn’t just any other person: she was a force of life, an avatar of kindness, love and compassion. Cultures around the world have concepts of deities of life and as far as I can find, none take the form of an elderly lady, yet what greater celebration of the glory of life is there than the elderly matriarch with the family she loves?

I felt her love wrapped tight around me as she held me close when homesickness had induced a meltdown in me (I was 4 and staying away from home for the first time and Grandad had given me Ribena in the wrong cup and the world ended – and instead of being cross or impatient, she wrapped my in herself until I was ok again). I taste it every time I drink sweet, weak, milky tea – the cure she gave me for the shock of falling in an icy puddle. I watched it flowing from her, filling the room, the house, the whole world as she held my son for the first time, gazed at his little baby face. Her great-grandchild, and far from her first but still given that same awe-filled adoration as if he were her only child, a glowing protection he will carry with him always, even if he doesn’t know it.

She taught me a lot about how to move through a world that can feel unbearably hard at times. I remember her telling me you grow into the face you deserve: if you face the world with a smile, your face will reflect that. It is a hard lesson, but I think of it whenever I find myself struggling through a hard time. I remember that Granny, too, faced difficulties, faced incredibly painful things, and that she did so with love. I remind myself I want to earn my wrinkles, my kind face, and so I set myself to finding the small, shared joys. Whenever I think of her, I think of the smiles drawn deep into her face.

 

I read this at my Granny's funeral. I waited outside with a few other family as the hearse came round. Pink roses were strewn over the wicker coffin - beautiful and just right, yet how could my kind, vibrant Granny be in there? She was carried in, and we followed. 

I don't have words for the ceremony, but hearing how full her life was, and seeing people nod to my words has helped start me healing.

My husband and son didn't come to the ceremony, but instead spent time with my cousins' wives and children. They joined us at the pub after, the kids running around at everyone's feet, laughing and playing. The older generations, we talked and ate and reminisced - and smiled at the children.

The flowers were brought over, with the thought everyone could take some home. Pink roses, to match her favourite plant in her garden. The children used them as wands, casting silly spells on us all. Full of joy and life, like Granny. She'd have loved that.

 

Rambles

It feels strange to write here, like I have to pretend I'm not in mourning when I am, or like I have to pretend I'm so deep in mourning that nothing else exists.

And neither's true. Both are true. It's never as simple as black and white; when we think that way, we don't just miss the shades of grey, but a full spectrum of colour.

Going through this bereavement with an understanding that I am autistic and have ADHD helps me understand a lot more about how I have handled (and not handled) grief in the past. It's still a tangled mess in my head; I might find the words one day but at the moment I'm still getting the sense and shape of it.

And this isn't where I wanted to go with my writing here today.

I've been rediscovering my tactile creative side: Ziggy (who now prefers Zigzag as a nickname. He says Zigzag is his Blood Bowl name, and his real name has been relegated to his "other name") let me play with his air-dry clay and I can see that becoming a real hyperfixation if I let it. It was pleasurable to mold the clay, and the ways it shaped surprised me. Waiting for our projects to dry so we can decorate them.

The anthology I'm published in is out in paperback here. I don't get royalties or commission or anything, but I am excited to share it.

What did I want to talk about today? I want to share my joy in the Exalted I'm playing in. I'm back in Second Age Exalted as envisiged by Rich, playing Taji alongside Bells as her twin brother, Kito. I love the relationship between the twins - I really enjoy having a close relationship with another PC. And there's wonderful relationships with the NPC's too, and they are different for each twin. Kito is terrified of Taji's lunar mate, for instance, yet Taji is utterly and deeply in love with him. She knows he's dangerous, but sees him as guardian rather than threat. Then there's the Emissary, a character from the meta but taken into his own by our GM, a friend and mentor - even a father figure - for the twins, supporting them individually as well as guiding them together. I really enjoy the depth of character Rich has created for each of the major NPC's, whether entirely his creation, or inspired by characters named in the book. The love, the fear, the laughter. It's an important part of TTRPG campaigns for me: it's the relationships that keep bringing me back.

I want to offer that to my Hunter group, help them build the bonds between the PC's and give them friendships, meaningful relationships outside as well. I want to give them the ties to make them fight harder...

I'm not sure how to do this, and I won't know what I need to learn until I've tried.

First session hopefully in Feb. Got to confirm and finalise a date.

Wish me luck!

Ru Rainbow

My Granny died on New Year's Eve. I have so much I want to say, but right now the grief is too huge so all I can manage is a photo.

Hunter getting nearer...

I've got the eariest sketch of an idea for metaplot for the Hunter game I want to run. It's not going to be as incredible as the meetaplots my GM creates, but that's ok: I'm learning, my players are learning, and it doesn't need to be so beautifully detailed and twisting as that.

At least one of my players is aware of my blog, which makes me feel like I shouldn't talk about it here, but then again I like talking about it and I'm excited about it and a huge part of the purpose of this blog is to talk about things I find exciting (without having to see the look of glazed-eye boredom I'm normally faced with). So Sophie (or other players) if you're reading: you're welcome to continue, but I trust you not to metagame (which means to use out of game knowledge about the game in the game; like having a map for a maze that I'm asking you to ignore and enjoy the exploration instead).

This is probably inspired by playing in Scion, combined up with Husbit rewatching Supernatural and I'm watching Lucifer, but I think I'd like to slowly involve my players in a war between gods. I'm undecided whether it'll be a conflict within a pantheon, or involving multiple pantheons. It's set in Wales, so looking at Cletic, Roman and Christian mythology. I don't need to decide straigtaway because this is something to creep in, for them to slowly realise some of the messages are coming from gods (or their Scions), until eventually they realise they're pawns in someone else's war.

I'm really excited about this game. I've ordered dice for my players, because they're new, and I've picked up some cheap notebooks for them. It feels welcoming to me to do this: I want to bring new people into one of my favourite things and I want them to feel happy in it. I've got three people, all aerialists, tentatively lined up. I want to start in January, run a session maybe monthly and hopefully on Saturday evenings. It feels a bit stupid, but I almost don't want to tell them in case they don't actually want to play or they aren't free, and then my dream is burst. It's like with writing: part of what frightened me before was the sense that it couldn't work, so it was better to enjoy the dream than actually try. Because I have achieved something with writing, I'm trying to fight the fear of losing the dream and actually get my group together.

Writing that was enough of a prompt. I've set up a little chat with my prospective players. Am psyched!

Busy Writing

Cloaked Press have released the cover art for the anthology my story is being included in.

Isn't that beautiful? I'm really excited about it. The kindle version is already available for pre-order. I'll keep you posted regarding the physical copy too.

And also about their next anthology, Depths of Love: My Enemy. I'm not a fan of the "enemies to lovers" trope (although one of my favourite love stories in any TTRPG I've played in is probably Taji and Fury, and it's definitely got enemies to lovers vibes), so it was challenging to try and write for it, and the first idea I had, I just couldn't find an entry point that worked for me (it's an idea I'm going to keep in the back of my mind, though, because I still think it's got potential). The story I eventually submitted arrived in a rush and includes a poem, a playground-rhyme style, which is also way out of my comfort zone. And they accepted it, and that made me really happy.

And then I wrote another piece for their Spring into Sci Fi collection, and I think it's the first piece I've written where I've felt as though, if it isn't accepted it's not because it's bad writing, its because it's not right for this collection. It's a decent bit of writing, and someone will want it. That's a really good feeling.

I'm working on a short story about a small group of orcs. As I write, I'm realising so much about them. Did you know orcs are blue blooded, and that across all orc culture it is taboo to eat other blue blooded creatures? It means they feel that all red bloods - the humans, the dwarves etc - are kinda dirty because they eat other red blooded creatures. This makes me think I'll write more in their world.

Things are going well in my writing world at the moment. That's not to say things are easy in general, but I'm glad to have one area where things feel good. I've got a lot of ideas and the fact I can find dedicated writing time means so much.

Fiction Friday: Moments of Connection

It’s cold. I play with my breath, fogging in the air, pretending I can make smoke rings. The cold air burns my nostrils as I inhale, warms my mouth as I exhale. My hands are shoved firmly into the front pocket of my hoodie and my cheeks sting against the chill.

I pop into the shop, pick up the few pieces I need. It’s quiet; the few other patrons carefully ignore me and each other. The shop assistant looks directly at me and smiles without managing to hide their boredom. I return the smile, hoping to show sympathy. Pay, stuff the items into the small tote bag, and leave. Tote bag over my shoulder, I secure my hands back in my pocket and start back down the hill.

Silently, a jackdaw flies over my head to perch in a tree. I dodge the shit that falls from it as I step under the bough, and it flies away again.

There’s not as many cars on the road as normal, but enough I have to wait a moment. A white car slows; the driver lifts her hand from the wheel to indicate I can cross. I wave a thanks back, and our eyes meet. We share a smile that feels deep and genuine. Something inside me makes me feel as though she needed it as much as I did. It’s fleeting, gone as soon as I’m across the road and walking on the other pavement. The cold still stings my cheeks, but the warmth of connection stays in my chest.

The road ahead glides out of the fog as fast as the road behind falls into it. The smile stays with me until the looming delivery van’s door opens into my path. The driver steps out and brushes past me as though he didn’t see me, as though I wasn’t even there. I sigh, breath briefly obscuring my view, but keep walking.

Home. Put the things away. Put my favourite mug by the kettle, then head back to the front door to put away my hat and shoes.

There’s that sudden sense of sparkling presence that interrupts me here sometimes; a flash of colour, an exclamation as though shouted through water. It’s gone again by the time I get back to the kitchen, but I’m not surprised to find my mug is back in the cupboard.

There’s another presence here, and I’m not sure if they’re the ghost

or I.

Building My Hunter Setting

I'm really excited to run Hunter. I've got a few of my aerial friends interested now. I'm hoping we'll find an evening we're all free so we can play. I'm figuring to start early next year.

Here's an issue I have though, and a reason I've struggled with Hunter in the past: having played various of the WoD supernatural creatures, I have great sympathy with them that means it's hard for me to make them the bad guys. Especially werewolves. I really loved playing Werewolf.

My setting is my take on Aberrheidol, a dark version of my uni town and used in various games run by my friends from there. My version has a few places from my home town as well, the library I grew up with, the pub/club where I had one of my first jobs (and that was a significant place in the Buffy game I played in that was my very first exposure to TTRPG's), and probably the climbing centre that holds our aerial circus school. I might attach it to the swimming pool; I'm not likely to put it on campus.

I don't know what sort of characters I'll have among my players. I'm going to give them support and freedom; I'm excited about it. Also, my usual GM has agreed to show up occasionally. I will run it by him, but I'd like him to play an experienced Hunter who can sometimes drag them along when he needs backup, or something like that.

Among the major NPC's, I've a few ideas. I need to read the book in a bit more depth, though. 

For antagonists, I think they'll start with a degree of ghostbusting before we move onto more fearsome foes. I've been listening to The Witch Farm (and other Danny Robins ghostly podcasts), and this is giving me lots of inspiration.

I'd like some kind of metaplot/end game/bigger bad so that maybe they need to befriend or at least work with supernatural creatures from time to time, but I don't know what that could be yet, so maybe we'll just run monster of the week for a while until I have a better idea.

Wish me (and them!) luck!