Tracey Rutledge

I'm nobody, I promise you. I'm a college student out of Missouri, working at a garage to make ends meet. There's a bit more to it than that, yeah, but that's all you need to know. ((RP page, 21+))

[flawed---by---design]

Do You Have the Nerve?

for @thenexusofsouls, the Creature

Tracey had been told that the hike to the cabin would be about an hour and a half long. For her, it took an extra fifteen. There weren't that many of the famous Ozarks in this part of Missouri, but the area around Sedalia had plenty of picturesque hills to keep a girl distracted.

Harland Cabin, that's what the locals called it. It had been abandoned for over a hundred fifty years, just a log cabin that some westward-bound pioneer had built back in the day. She hadn't cared much about the legends, personally. They were pretty standard: last known residents in the 19th Century meeting some vague grisly fate, a few lurid suggestions about daughters to keep things interesting, and Pettis County had itself a ghost story.

The story wasn't the important part. The important part was that the University of Central Missouri's history department had been running a pot since the Seventies, and no one had collected on it. For twenty bucks, you could be driven to the trail that would take you there, and all you had to do was stay alone in the cabin all weekend to win the pot.

No one had made it past the first night yet. The pot was up to five thousand dollars, and a certain physics major was determined to take that home. She moseyed through the woods with a backpack that had seen far scarier adventures than this, armed with a cell phone to call for rescue and enough camping supplies to sleep comfortably for two nights away from the world.

Except... the clearing should have been completely overgrown, and it wasn't. Somehow, the forest hadn't reclaimed this abandoned cabin yet. The roof seemed to be in decent repair, and while the clearing was knee-high in weeds it didn't seem to have so much as a shrub trying to grow. Tracey frowned. How "abandoned" was this place?

[thenexusofsouls]

Adam frowned to hear all of this. What was so grievous that one group of people would hate another for thousands of years? To carry that hate for so long, down through the generations, was one of the saddest things Adam had ever heard of before. When she mentioned that people responded by throwing harmful objects through windows at the sight of a pentacle, his brow furrowed. He had no idea what a pentacle was, other than that he had seen one for the first time just now, and no idea what it symbolized, but he didn't understand why any mere symbol could cause such rage and a desire to hurt one's countrymen. "Why...?" he asked about the rock-throwers, sympathy, sorrow, and confusion seeping through into his tone. Was it worth trying to understand such senseless hate? Yes. Yes, it was. For how else was he to combat it if he knew nothing about it?

There were so many words here that he did not understand. Should he say that? He wanted to understand, but he could tell the girl was so guarded about this topic of conversation that he hesitated to ask. Which... was rare for him, a perpetually curious and knowledge-hungry individual. "I do not know... what a pentacle... or what a spell is... and I have never heard of a Pagan before," he simply said as a statement. If she felt like elaborating, he would be interested to hear, but if not, he would leave that conversation where it rested

"I have learned... about the Bible... but I was not aware... that there were other systems of belief," he shared, though he was lying right now. Not intentionally, and so perhaps that made it less a lie than a true misunderstanding. Nevertheless, he was not being truthful, unbeknownst to him.

In fact, he had heard of Paganism before and had been exposed to other systems of belief. The "Spirit of the Forest," as he'd been called by the old man's family many years ago, had been a pagan belief. The woodcut mask of the Green Man that had hung over the family's door, the offerings they'd left out for him in thanks, the bundles of herbs and little piles of salt they placed here and there to ward off or appease evil spirits, the prayers and practices for an abundant season, the insistence on respect for fairies and other trickster beings that lurked in the deep woods for fear of dire consequence should they be angered... all of these were attributable to Paganism, not Christianity. Adam just... genuinely did not know that. The family had blended together Christianity and Paganism so seamlessly that he had no idea they were practicing two separate systems of belief.

His confusion only deepened as Tracey attempted to explain one word he didn't know with several others. Now he not only had no idea what s'mores were, but he could add marshmallows, graham crackers, and chocolate to his list of unknowns as well. "I... do not know what any of those things are," he said. "Though... by your description of them... may I assume that they are all types of food?" His head canted to the side, his innocent curiosity hanging out in the open once more.

[flawed---by---design]

An eyebrow raised. "Who taught you about the Bible without the whole 'no other gods' part?" Tracey asked, her head canting sideways a bit in her curiosity. "That's where most people start. 'God loves you, but he doesn't like to share, so if you so much as look at any other gods he turns psycho and sends you to Hell, or some shit.'" After a beat, her nose scrunched in thought, and she added, "Actually, a lot of crap can get you sent to hell. They told me my best hope was thanking him for impregnating a teenager and creating a super-special being to torture instead of me... which is kind of fucked up, but none of the Bible guys want to have that discussion."

She pulled her bratwurst out of the fire, reaching for a bun. Tracey didn't see the need for sauces and dressings, she just took a bite as soon at it was safe to do so. After she swallowed, she continued. "My family's been Pagan since forever, though. We prayed to, like, nature spirits and stuff. Grandma was convinced that there were spirits in our garden that kept her plants healthy and made her medicines powerful. I'm pretty sure the comfrey tea she poured on the dirt in thanks was a fertilizer, but whatever."

Another bite. Gods, but she loved these things. Tracey leaned back against the wall, smirking at Adam. "If they didn't teach you against other religions, what DID they teach you?"

[feldfrog]

If a fantasy world has an ancient tree of wisdom, that means it must also have young trees that are dumb as shit. Just giving terrible advice like, "the evil wizard is kinda hot"'

[felawnie]

@marlynnofmany

[marlynnofmany]

#that would be hilarious #you'd have to measure trees to make sure they knew what they were talking about

I can easily see this fantasy world having idioms like "Never take the advice of a tree that's small enough to hug."

(Also, I'll bet some of those young trees give bad advice on purpose, because entertainment is at a premium when you can't move around, and your morality system is very different from that of the meat creatures.) (What do trees know or care about the evil wizard's actual attractiveness? Sending him all these suitors is pretty funny though, so they're probably going to keep doing it.)

[sufficientlylargen]

Consider: Two Pando-style clonal forests that overlap. It appears to be a vast forest, but every single "tree" is actually just a ramet of one or the other clonal organsim. Both are Ancient Trees of Wisdom™, but also they hate each other; you can never be sure which of the two you're talking to, but you can be sure that any advice one of them gives the other will disagree with on principle.

[asmuchasidliketo]

#their root systems are a mess #because they're hopelessly intermingled but adamantly refuse to touch #they don't have strong opinions on the evil wizard's attractiveness #because the evil wizard is only two centuries old and all their Ancient Wisdom™ is from much further in the past #in recent centuries they've pretty much only been paying attention to their (very slow) ongoing turf war #their belligerence affects the rest of the forest as well #e.g. birds born in one of them will go to great lengths to avoid landing on a tree of the other #there are rival gangs of squirrels doing west-side-story posse scurries through the branches tags from above post (of course)

[flawed---by---design]

Aaaaaaand now I'm "enemies-to-lovers" shipping trees. Thank you for that.

[broodsys]

whenever i get to a point where i can comfortably bake, i really want to get into baking cakes with vegetables!

i don't struggle to eat veg, i love it, but vegetables seems to lend a lot to baked goods, and it's like yay i'm getting my veggies here too c:

[flawed---by---design]

I wish I could find my old carrot cake recipe for you.

[broodsys]

ooooh 👀 well it will definitely be an In The Future thing, so no rush, but if u do stumble across it lmk! i love a good carrot cake 🥰

[flawed---by---design]

Dude, if you get into baking, I have a handful of recipes I'll send you copies of. My husband even has one for bacon chocolate chip cookies, it is DECADENT.

[broodsys]

whenever i get to a point where i can comfortably bake, i really want to get into baking cakes with vegetables!

i don't struggle to eat veg, i love it, but vegetables seems to lend a lot to baked goods, and it's like yay i'm getting my veggies here too c:

[flawed---by---design]

I wish I could find my old carrot cake recipe for you.

[broodsys]

weh

[flawed---by---design]

Blurble?

[goryhorroor]

horror sub-genres: gothic

[teashoesandhair]

Something I have been thinking about a fair bit recently is how important it is to know how to talk to people with dementia, and how so many people don't actually have any real awareness of how to do that, so, off the top of my head, here are a few things that might help:

the way you frame your conversations is important! People with dementia are often, particularly at the earlier stages, very much aware that their memory is getting worse. This can make them very anxious, which isn't fun for anyone, least of all them. One of the most common things that people say to people with dementia is "do you remember ___?" as a way to try and prompt their memory. This feels helpful, but it's not. Because hey, in all likelihood, that person does not remember ___, and being confronted with this fact is not going to make them feel great. Remember that they literally have a degenerative brain disease; they're not going to suddenly regain their memories because you tested them. Instead, try talking about your own memories. Tell them what you remember. Tell it like a story. If they remember, then they can join in. If not, then hey, it's a nice story.

don't correct them if they say something wrong. Their version of reality is not going to be the same as yours. That's just a given. My grandma is often convinced that she's just on a very long holiday in a nice hotel, and that her dad is waiting outside in the car. I'm not going to tell her "uh, actually, you're in a care home and your dad died 50 years ago," because who's that going to help? Quite literally no-one. It'll just confuse her more, and she's already confused enough. Even if the person is saying something that's making them anxious - a common one is believing that people are stealing from them, or that someone is being unkind to them - then it's easier to try and distract them by trying to talk about something that you know makes them happy, rather than to outright tell them that they're wrong. Being consistently told that they're wrong can make them react defensively; they're not children, and they (usually) know it. It's just easier not to get into a confrontation.

get used to repetition. Don't get frustrated when you have the same conversation 25 times in two minutes. It's going to happen. For them, it's the first time you've had that conversation; they won't understand why you're angry at them for asking a question. It's completely normal to feel frustrated, but the onus is on you not to make it their problem. My grandma's short term memory is, charitably, about 3 seconds long. A conversation with her at this point is like rehearsing for a play; I know her lines, and I know mine. That's just how it is. She gets just as much joy out of telling me that she likes my cardigan for the 86th time as she did the first time she said it. People with dementia are not able to retain the information or the memory of that previous conversation; reminding them that you've already answered their question is just going to confuse and upset them.

don't take things personally. They might say things that are unkind. They might say completely inappropriate things. Again: their brain is deteriorating. It is a medical condition. They're not becoming bad people, or showing their 'true selves' to be evil and rage-fuelled. It's a combination of the fact that they're living in a perpetual state of confusion, which can lead to frustration and anger, and the fact that their ability to process and respond to information is affected by the dementia itself. If they say something cruel to you, you just have to take it on the chin and recognise it as a symptom of a disease that they're not able to control. Step out of the room for a moment if it gets too much. I've been fortunate in that my grandma has never experienced this symptom, but it's very common, and it's no reflection of you, or them.

don't treat them like children. My grandmother is 92 years old and she will look at you like you're the bane of her life if you try and tell her what to do, or use baby talk. Keep your sentences short and clear to avoid confusion, but don't ask them if they need you to clean their wittle fingies.

try and avoid open-ended questions, especially ones that involve memory recall, like "what did you do on the weekend?". My grandma was an absolute queen at making shit up when people asked her that, because she couldn't remember a damn thing, and she never liked to admit that she couldn't remember, because it made her stressed and anxious. "I picked up leaves" was her personal favourite, for some reason. I used to just tell her about my weekend instead, and sometimes she would joyfully tell me (completely falsely) that she also went to the shops, and that was much less stressful for her; she wasn't actively trying to come up with an answer to cover for her own lack of memory, and instead felt like she was part of the conversation on her own, equal terms.

most importantly: don't try and pull them back to reality. The best way I've learnt to communicate with anyone with dementia is to enter theirs instead. Sometimes, this is referred to as 'validation therapy'. It's about acknowledging that the reality of someone with dementia is as real to them as your reality is to you, and you're not going to be able to 'reorient' them to your version of reality, because they don't have the short term memory or ability to retain information that would enable that. Put simply: if my grandma asks when my uncle is going to come home, I gain nothing from (correctly) informing her that he's dead. This just upsets her, because every time she hears it, she's receiving the news of his death for the first time. That sends her into a spiral of grief and anxiety that remains even after the memory of his death has vanished again. Instead, I just tell her that he'll be home after lunch. She nods, accepts it, and we're both happy. My uncle is still dead, but in her world, he's going to come home soon. It's a way of having empathy for the person with dementia, and acknowledging that your reality, or objective 'truth', is not more important than their wellbeing.

Godspeed, and best of luck to anyone who needs this advice, because I truly wish that no-one did.

[flawed---by---design]

I'd like to add:

If they leave the room, or you leave the room, and come back, greet them with their name/title as if nothing is amiss. "Hey, Grandma, how are you feeling?" It reminds them that you know them, that you have some kind of relationship to them, and that you're not just some stranger.

Also, if you ask how they're feeling, and they bring up their confusion, you can calmly tell them that "Yeah, that's to be expected. Why don't I fill you in?" and explain what's happening to them. I usually say that "You've lived for so long that your brain can't handle all of the memories, so it just started forgetting things. Didn't ask permission, either. Rude."

I also ask at the beginning of the visit what she remembers, telling her that some days are better than others. Whatever she tells me she remembers, I tell her she's having a good memory day. It helps.

[broodsys]

why the hell did I wake up exactly at 9am lmao

[flawed---by---design]

Fun?

[azalea-blooming]

you should care about kids because they’re people, btw. not because they’re “future adults” but because they are people right now and they deserve to be treated like people.

[flawed---by---design]

And give them some freaking grace, because yeah, they're people, but they're NEW at it and should be expected to screw it up now and then.

Every day, they wake up in a different body to what they went to sleep in, because they're growing. So if they're a bit clumsy or awkward... yeah, of course they are.

If you've done your job right, that "minor" inconvenience or scratch might just be the worst thing that's happened to them in months, or potentially in their lives. The tears aren't overreacting, they're just reacting like anyone would to such horror.

Children have all of the feelings of adults, with none of the agency. Yeah, they're gonna throw tantrums sometimes. You would too if you didn't even get to pick out your own socks.

[flawed---by---design]

So every Friday I go hang out with an old family friend who has dementia really bad. Like, her memory is only about 2 minutes or less before it's gone. I sometimes call her "Grandma" to help her when she gets nervous and doesn't know what's going on.

Her next door neighbor is a Deaf man who only speaks ASL, and has dementia just as bad... except no one in the neighborhood speaks ASL and he can't ask for help. "Grandma" saw him wandering around from door to door, and pointed him out.

Me: He's got the same sickness you have, Grandma. Except he can't talk to the people around here.

Grandma: WELL YOU GET A DAMNED NOTEBOOK AND GO HELP HIM!!!

Now, my ASL skills are rusty at best, but I can ask him if he's okay and understand when he frantically asks me to call the cops. I tell Dispatch where I am, what's going on, and that they need to send someone with ASL. Then I make sure Grandma is okay inside, and I sit on the front porch with Old Dude and wait for the cops. Within 10 minutes, Grandma has wrangled up Coca Cola. "I can't talk to him, will you tell him it's gonna be okay?"

In the end, help came and took care of the man. He was fine, just woke up and didn't know where he was. But I'm just gonna sit over here and whimper at an old lady going full Mom on someone she didn't know, just because she could relate to his fear.

[ohvoyager]

[broodsys]

i have accomplished Much today. and so has my mom! she was able to wash her hair today, which is, i'm sure, a huge mood improver lmao. and i also went out to just poke around the garden. kinda nice to go out to do nothing

i did harvest two sorrel leaves, rinse them, and just... ate them 😂 i love sorrel with things, less so alone, but it was fine. and certainly healthy akfjskf like talk about fresh greens

[flawed---by---design]

I went out yesterday and got 2 handfuls of plantain from my front yard. It's drying in the kitchen now, destined to become an experimental salve for mosquito bites.

[broodsys]

ohhh that's neat!!! I'm curious to know how the salve works out for you 👀

[flawed---by---design]

We've mostly used the crushed/moistened leaves in the past, just held to the bite until they dry.

[broodsys]

i have accomplished Much today. and so has my mom! she was able to wash her hair today, which is, i'm sure, a huge mood improver lmao. and i also went out to just poke around the garden. kinda nice to go out to do nothing

i did harvest two sorrel leaves, rinse them, and just... ate them 😂 i love sorrel with things, less so alone, but it was fine. and certainly healthy akfjskf like talk about fresh greens

[flawed---by---design]

I went out yesterday and got 2 handfuls of plantain from my front yard. It's drying in the kitchen now, destined to become an experimental salve for mosquito bites.

[byjove]

So delighted to find out that ‘beware of dog’ signs date back to at least the second century BCE in Ancient Rome.

And this one was an inlayed mosaic.

[flawed---by---design]

Okay, is anyone gonna deal with the fact that the dog is in a play bow, with his tail up and his ears forward? "Beware of dog, he's playful as shit and you look like fun!"

[broodsys]

panties seem... really bad, actually

like, the combination of cheap, non-breathable materials flush against genitals seems like a lovely way to create a whole host of health problems. yeast infections, UTIs, the lot...

like, i wore panties for a huge part of my life. then switched to boxers and briefs, at first for gender reasons, but now whenever i'm running out of nice clothes from really needing to do laundry, i end up going back to panties for a while and fuck. they're personally uncomfortable (physically, not in a gender way) and i do know there are types that would be fine, but a lot are terrible

and cheap panties compared to cheap boxers...? yeah, the "women's" clothing vs. "men's" clothing thing is Known, but it definitely impacts underwear too 💀

[flawed---by---design]

It absolutely does, and women's unders especially are awful.

Underwear is meant to support what needs supporting, and to wick sweat/oil away from your skin for comfort while protecting your outer clothing from said sweat/oil. This polyester lacy nightmare that we have now does none of that.

If I'm wearing a skirt, you can damned well bet that my ciswoman ass is wearing men's cotton boxers beneath. It's just BETTER.

[byjove]

my cowboybrain keeps trying to slip into my knights writings. like, I probably should not refer to the spare horses as the remuda. that is not a word they would use.

[byjove]

retelling of the grail quest as a cattle drive that descended into madness

[tempest-in-diy-earrings]

Okay, but I'd read that.

[flawed---by---design]

I NEED to read this.

[sleepyjump]

there's this guy who works at the convenience store next to my job and every time i come in he tries to upsell me. i'll get a gatorade and he'll say "that's it...? isn't it snacktime?" i'll get a snack and he'll say "just that? don't you want more?"

one time i got a huge pile of stuff and he STILL said it and i said "dude, you would not be satisfied with all the riches of heaven!!" and he said "i don't even get a commission. i just love doing this."

and then i couldnt come in for a while and then i came in again today for just a charger. and i said "that's it today" with a smile. and he looked at me with a gleam in his eye and said "no it isn't. you'll be back later. you'll have to get thirsty eventually, won't you?" with this conniving smile that made me realize i WAS thirsty. i'm out of my depth here. help

[bonniebugsy]

OP I think that might be the Devil

[flawed---by---design]

And I think he's flirting with you, OP.