#Less Queue Queue more pew pew

[wiredelta]

we're playing pathfinder but it doesn't really have anything to do with the clip lmao

Recorded 2/23/24

[maximuswolf]

Every multiplayer game is team-based and that's bad. Here's why.

Every multiplayer game is team-based, and that's bad. Here's why. Why does OP hate teamwork in MP games?I don't! I hate when it's in EVERY multiplayer. And that's how they currently are, and not for good reasons.Some of them are excellent! PvE games like Deeprock and Helldivers are team games done right. The team-based aspect is actually used to its fullest potential for cooperation to be fun, not toxic.But the PvP genre is oversaturated with team games. It's always soloqueueing into random squads of three, four, or five.The last big solo game was Fortnite in 2018, and before that... Bedwars, I guess? Amogus??? Why aren't there any more?Designing your game around teams is pretty malicious, actually.Why is Apex squads of three? Why did they remove solos? Why is LoL 5V5, instead of 1V1V1V1? In these games, you're getting insulted by your team more often than cooperating with them in creative ways, so why not just add solo modes?Because then you'll stop convincing your friends to play with you.Imagine Apex was solo. You install the game, play solo for three months. You drop in, get a couple of kills, die. You're satisfied, and you bid the game goodbye after three months of playing it.But Apex isn't solo.So, the player has a choice - either play with shitty randoms without a mic 80% of the time...Or they can invite their friends.Remember Hakita's post about spreading good word about the game being as beneficial to the creator as buying it, because then someone might buy it because of you?Team-based games exploit that factor to take away a player's ability to play solo, meaning they'll feel inclined to convince their friends to play with them - and those friends might get sucked in and spend. Exposure is key for F2P freemium games, because the more people try them, the bigger the chance they'll get sucked in and spend.Plus - how are you gonna stop playing a game that all of your friends are playing? Without you, they have no healer! No tank! How could you do this to them? See the FOMO working its way into your brain?Every time you LFG, you are literally being used as an advertisement for their game."But why would you even want a solo game over one with teams?"There's a lot of benefits to those, actually!-Zero toxicity. No team, no problem! Literally every MP game nowadays tells you "don't be toxic". So what if the outcome of half your games is thrown by people you have no control over? Just don't be toxic! Accept your undeserved loss with a big smile!-No having to choose between playing with shitty randoms, and waiting for your friends to queue with you!-No need for teamwork, which can feel like a burden and responsibility for people who just play the game because they want to pew pew with enemies. Mind you, there's still room for strategy, but that strategy can be fully determined by you and does not have to revolve around coordination with other people.-More freedom! What do you mean, my team wants to go that way? I have no team!-No blaming - if you win, it's your feat, if you lose, it's your fault.-Full control over the match's outcome, decided only by your own skill."But I like playing with my friends!"That's fine! You have a lot of team-based games to do that in!But for people who prefer soloing, there's way less options to pick from. And I wish that would change.If you think there's no demand for solo MP games, then why do you think support characters - the class that interacts with teammates - are always the least popular class in every game, and DPS ones - the class that interacts with enemies - are the most popular?It's fun to have actual, tangible impact on the outcome of your match.But can't have that in any game ever, I guess. Because we gotta FOMO players into inviting their friends or else they have to deal with muted randoms.Do you agree we need more solo games? Or would you rather have everything stay team-based? Submitted July 06, 2024 at 07:13AM by alekdmcfly https://ift.tt/4fuXHNc via /r/gaming

[probablygayattorneys]

Blog update

For the past year or so, this blog has posted twice a day. Once at a random time between 6:30-7:30 AM MST and once at a random time between 11:30 AM-12:30 PM MST.

Starting tomorrow, this blog will post once a day at noon MST exactly.

I am going to explain why below but before I do, I'm going to TW for really, really serious mental health issues so... just stop reading if you're not up for that.

I am not well.

It is probably obvious from how absolutely off the wall some of my posts have been that my brain doesn't work like most people but I don't think anyone understands the full extent of just how broken my brain is.

Even my doctors don't agree. Give me a mental disorder, I've probably been diagnosed with it at least once. Autism. Depression. Bipolar. ADHD. BPD. CRSD. GAD. I've got the whole fucking can of alphabet soup in my bowl, but nobody really knows.

What we do know is that during June, at the same time my dad got diagnosed with cancer (don't worry, I didn't even know stage 0 cancer was a thing but apparently they caught it so early they just did a tiny little surgery and now they think he's completely cancer free) my depression hit hard. Legitimately, so bad that I was officially declared disabled by it to keep me on my parents' insurance since I turned 26 in August.

The only song that I can even think of that comes close to trying to describe how I feel is the song Autoclave, by The Mountain Goats. Embedded below if you'd like to listen.

We've done everything. I have a therapist I see weekly. I did a sleep study. I have a psychopharmacologist who has prescribed me enough medications that I could probably not just tranquilize an elephant but also cure the tiger's depression, stabilize the lion's mood, and hook up the ringmaster with some real good shit. We spent 5000 dollars to try an experimental ketamine treatment that insurance didn't cover at all. I've done ECT. I got desperate enough that I tried to turn to religion, I went to a Catholic church just because it was the only denomination open at 3 PM on a Tuesday and I sat in that pew and I prayed for an hour that God would send me someone, just that someone would sit down and say "you seem troubled, child" and nobody fucking came. Then one night I prayed so hard I literally cried, begging God to send me something, some kind of sign, literally anything, to keep going, and the next day my cat knocked over one of my decks of tarot cards and every single card fell face down except the death one. So. There's that. That's only one thing left that I haven't tried, and that's where they're going to take my blood and then sequence my DNA and try and figure out what medication my body would react best to, and I hope that it works because I've been struggling with suicidal ideation since I was 6 and... even if I am a phoenix, I'm getting real fucking tired of rising from the ashes. Everything we've tried is just a fucking cul-de-sac of misery. I have fallen into this rut and I can't get unstuck and this is the worst I've ever felt in my entire life, I'm upset and angry at everything from my grandpa, for dying before I was before so I never got any memories of him, to my cat for not letting me eat in peace, but none moreso than at myself for feeling this way when it is absolutely no one's fault that any of this is happening. The only peace I know is when I'm in a heavily medicated sleep and I can dream all night of freedom but then I wake up but I never wake up free. If you cannot relate to this, then I sure hope you pick a deity and thank them for your luck.

So, what does any of that have to do with the format of this blog changing?

Well, it's simple. I'm not funny anymore. There were times I had 200+ posts in my queue. Right now I have less than 80.

Sometimes, I still have some spark of inspiration (though most of the time it's really more my brother just made another stupid video edit) but the fact of the matter is that I'm just... I'm not producing anything worth a damn thing at the rate things have been posting. This is the only thing I can try to do to make it last a little bit longer while I hope for a miracle because every second of every day I am in pain, it hurts just being awake, like, I am in an agony that most of you probably can't even fathom.

And, well, if it gets to eighty days from now, and there's no more posts, and no more updates... Well, you'll know what happened. I hope you also know that I'm sorry that I couldn't step out of the shadow of my great catastrophe, but I also hope you know that I really, really did try my goddamn hardest.

[phalangemedes]

100%, I think we can start at the bottom of the 'humanity has issues' hill and die about 2/3's up it still plumbing the metaphoric depths, and it's not that the Houses are better or worse, it's just a different hill at the other end of the solar system.

Ohh you get the feeling Cohort propaganda would absolutely push the luxury space communism angle though. Littering it through the BoE strongholds to sew dissent before the kindly 'how about we strike a deal...' that invariably ends in genocide.

I do wonder with Gideon, specifically, how much of her robustness is from John. Not simply because she didn't die but because by all accounts Ortus was a big strapping lad but never particularly healthy. Which isn't to say that is a lack of nutrition thing, because it could be Pluto’s barely heated climate, genetics or any number of things, but it's a concept I hadn't really put a lot of thought into before this. How much of that House was Harrow actually keeping upright, because we know she arterially scraped the oldies, but there's so many more finicky processes unwell people require. I'm put in mind of Pal flushing out Judith's renal system. Was a tiny baby nunlet, freshly burdened with her parents suicide, having to.. march around pews of aging devotees Online Doctoring them?!

Oh I getcha! I don't think either of us are saying there's any salvaging for how these literal teenager babies have been treated, but that there is a spectrum between a lack of care via ignorance and purposeful, antagonist abuse.

It is wild that the least bad thing they did was try to murder her as a baby... Christ, poor Griddle. There has been a literal queue to murder her, from mummy dearest upwards.

It's less a fight for who's the worse House in terms of humane care and more 'these are all different categories that go in the same tupperware at different dilutions! wow! john wtf! could you not have tried a bit harder, babe!'

I want Tor to completely lose control of her, I know she has piles and piles of short stories just gagging to be put into the most glorious and incoherent edition of lore haha. But until then... you don't need new stuff to go insane, AS IS DEMONSTRATED BELOW..

The Sixth are happy, I think you can stop at that. They are part of a mostly functioning system, where they were able to pursue their desire for knowledge to the fullest and most importantly happily and together. What isn't to envy, honestly?! Give me a safe haven and a person who wont shy away from me even at my worst and I’d probably join a cult too.

Yes! Unwanted Guest was so delightful and the complexity of their relationship as a group was so sweet, even in the barest hinting. She was so tender with them, even in that strange, half hallucinatory prison of River edge and death.

I don't really think the Tomb does MINOR characters, but the ones that are on a linear plot beside, not within, the main one are so tantalising. What do you mean we don't get to spend 400 pages with beautiful terminally disabled gremlin of a woman?!

It's a.. next step thing, isn't it. The leap into the void that could either be the making or the breaking, but the risk of betterment is better than the decay of stasis. I think I probably read it as more despairing because I am, at heart, a massive cynic. Which doesn't lessen how beautiful it was! But I have no doubt my own mourning for Pal and Cam will have coloured the overarching feeling of transition. (when I tell you I s o b b e d. I've read it twice now and it fucks me up a bit more each time, I am a terminal romantic, I fear)

Me too! And no apologies, it's great to hear from you and honestly, pretty rad that we're both having to percolate before getting back to it. It has the chill, thoughtful undertones of snail mail penpals

I have such a big beef with the way that the TLT fandom talks about Cam and Pal being codependent. I have not seen any word of god quotes that talk about them that way, but it seems to be this widely accepted truth that just doesn't click with my reading of the characters.

Certainly by NtN Pal has a dependent relationship with Cam, as they are sharing a body. There are even some parallels to codependency with how their use of necromancy in Cam's body causes her harm.

What I just don't get about the codependent label is that I don't see Cam and Pal enabling one or the other in destructive behavior. Certainly they partake in risky behavior that Pyrrah criticizes them for, but it seems to be a mutual decision. Cam is just as reckless as Pal is, and possibly moreso.

(And also Pyrrah is a huge projecting hypocrite. Love her tho I may, it's true.)

Pal's quotes about how grand lysis wasn't their inevitable end, but was the best and kindest option left to them complements the discussions we overhear in their recordings. Pal's pursuit of Cam's consent and her enthusiasm in giving it just doesn't match the codependent relationship that fans keep referencing.

[ofcyberhunting-blog]

@ofreverentia liked for a thing.

Birds sung loudly throughout the forest while beams of light shone down from within the gaps of the treetops. It’d been quite some time since Levi had been out in the woodlands and honestly he’d missed it dearly. Staying out in the forest always reminded him of his father regardless of who exactly his mother was. A long time ago it used to put a strain on his metal state to keep all the wild animals at bay and keep them from being drawn to him but now it was easy after having had so much practice. Needless to say, he didn't want to scare the shit out of Tobias by having a random bear or wolf pack come by to greet him - especially when he was about to give him archery lessons. Glancing over at his boyfriend, he finds himself quirking an amused eyebrow up at him as he finishes setting up the tent. “Are you still surprised I asked you out camping?” It wasn't a secret that Levi was super nerdy - he did after all play video games for a living. However, there was a part of him that loved the outdoors too and he wanted to show that to the other male.  

[kitcat992]

Your selfie vs when you open the front face camera

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 152

I’m not going to jinx it, I’m not going to jinx it, I’m not going to jinx it...

Okay, maybe I am. I managed to queue up the chapters I had in the barrel! Yay!! Which also means that I have a super duper exciting chapter coming up, which I can’t wait to write and can’t wait for y’all to read. I just need it to be perfect.

That said, thank you to @baelpenrose and @charlylimph-blog for your help with this particular chapter.  I love when we are all three in one of these sessions and just descending into chaos in the chat. Also, @mamayoda (who I can’t tag but I do want you to know I see your likes in my notes!) for love-bombing my notes recently.

“Is it just me or is everyone really jumpy?” Charly asked as I set my food down across from her.  It was our thrice-weekly lunch dates in one of the public mess halls, and she definitely had a point.  I had already noticed three people scowl distrustfully at the food consoles, hugging closely to the prepared food side of the room instead.

I sighed. “It has to have been Derek’s stress test.  It wasn’t supposed to impact systems we didn’t design, but…”

She snorted loudly. “Tell that to the week I spent taking cold showers again.  At least this time, the doors didn’t play any music when I walked through them.”

“Did your doors at least open consistently? I was stuck in my quarters for a whole day until we figured out that I could walk through if I had an escort.”  I laughed and shook my head before digging in to my food. “And, come to find out, we actually do manage the water systems, thanks to BioLab 2.”

Contrary to myself, Charly was entirely unperturbed at this revelation beyond sniffing her hoodie and shrugging. “My doors worked fine as far as I know, but Coffey and I tend to work the same hours, so… Maybe that was it.  Oo!” Her cheer of enthusiasm caught me off guard as she started bouncing in her seat. “OOOOO! I bet he activated the routine Xiomara had running when you and Jokul weren’t friends yet!”

“There was a routine!?” I asked, exasperated. “I behaved, thank you. It wasn’t necessary.”

“Meh. Just in case. What do you think her deal is?” She tilted her head to the side, at a table near us.

Sure enough, the woman at that table was darting glances around the room, her shoulders hunched, elbows close to her body, eyes wide.  I could practically feel her shaking from where I was. “I can’t tell if she looks suspicious or afraid,” I murmured, hoping the woman couldn’t hear me. “But the fact that I’ve met mice and chihuahuas who shook less, I’m going to go with afraid.”

As I watched the woman, weighing whether or not a stranger trying to comfort her would make it better or worse, Mona’s familiar face approached her instead.  She was speaking softly enough that I couldn’t make out words, but the woman clearly recognized her and only jumped slightly.

I was so focused on the sight of Mona comforting the woman that I nearly hit the ceiling when Parvati’s voice came from entirely too close to my right shoulder. “Rebecca.  She lost her family twice, first her parents, some cousins, and an uncle when the hack happened, and then her partner and children in the After.  It’s understandable that she’s terrified right now, after the stress test. Too many bad memories.”

My face flushed in humiliation. “Pranav and Zach sent a ship-wide alert that the stress test was happening - “

A perfectly manicured hand clapped over my mouth, one dark eyebrow arched in eloquent disbelief. “Sophia. You of all people know that mental scars do not heed logic.”

Charly’s hair flew around her face as she nodded enthusiastically. “After day three of cold showers, I flinched every time I went through a door in case that stupid song started playing again, no matter how many times I reminded myself that it was a stress test and I had decidedly not given Derek boba tea again.”

Both my hands flew up in surrender. “I stand corrected, I just feel awful to see people react like that.” Gazing around the room, I was suddenly much more aware of all the darting eyes, protective postures, seats turned so that backs were against walls.

Charly had obviously seen the same thing. “We may need to talk to Pranav about limiting the tests to one or two systems at a time.”

“I wish we could,” I admitted, stabbing a potato out of my pie slightly harder than necessary. “His department was passing the tests with flying colors when Derek was limited to one or two systems at a time.  But they failed this last test miserably, it turns out.  As soon as they would react to one thing, Derek would switch to another system, and they couldn’t be everywhere at once as well as they convinced themselves that they could.  And they can’t just be good at small scale attacks: the revolt that happened before the End brought everything down at once, from multiple access points. It was… kind of elegant, in a terrible way.  Very clean.”

Charly squinted at me and Parvati in suspicion. “Are you supposed to know that they crashed and burned in the test.”

I rocked my hand back and forth while I chewed on a mouthful of crust.  It had way too much butter in it, but at least it was actually crust this time. A week ago it had been something pretty close to paper mache. “Technically we don’t officially know that.  Officially, all we know is that Pranav has requisitioned enough additional staff to increase his team of programmers by seventy percent.”

“Asses handed to them, got it,” Charly nodded in understanding.

“We also officially know that Pranav currently owes Hannah quite the enormous favor,” Parvati confided.

“How big?” Charly ventured slowly.

“Big enough that his grandchildren may be indebted to hers,” came the laughing response.

Charly shook her head and clucked her tongue. “He should know better than to bet against Derek.  He breaks the systems for fun, and they asked him to really go for it. What did they expect?”

“Apparently to put up a better fight at least.” I forced a smile, but guilt weighed on my heart as I studied the room again, fully seeing the microexpressions of anxiety, fear, and anger.  It felt like the entire Ark was constantly swinging between hope and fear. The random drills weren’t really helping, either.

“They aren’t,” Parvati agreed, letting me know that I had been thinking out loud. “Everyone is sleep deprived, on high alert, and then all of a sudden all the computer systems went on the fritz for a week.”

I sighed and rubbed my forehead, pushing what was left of my pot pie away from me, appetite gone. “We need to talk to Grey and Antoine about getting counselling for everyone, seeing as how Xiomara and Pranav pretty much just triggered the entire ship. I mean, everyone knows counselling is available, but I think allocating training and resources to the therapy teams is going to take priority over Pranav’s request for the moment.”

Charly tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Do we have the space for some quiet rooms, like you set up for the Food Festival a few years back? That may be a good idea.”

Snapping into work-mode, Parvati flicked her datapad open, bangles clattering as she started making notes. “The quarters left by those who relocated closer to the Archives are still uninhabited, those can be used.  We may be able to convince some people to relocate so we can spread the rooms out more evenly, but even if we can’t, just having those rooms available will help.”

“Make a note to add in the proposal for Grey: possibility of having specific vendors permitted to serve food in BioLab 2.  Encourage mental health days and picnics.”

Parvati nodded in acknowledgement of my request, before adding her own spin. “As a contingency plan, find vendors who will pre-package picnics.  Between the current distrust of the consoles and the fact it will remind everyone of the annual Festival, the good emotions will help.”

“I like it,” I confirmed. “What else?”

“Paintball tag day in the corridors,” Charly announced, without preamble or warning. “Make it a holiday, everyone is off work, limit it to one end of the Ark.”

I shook my head. “Guns, not the best idea.”

“Ew, no. No pew-pew.” She wrinkled her nose. “I was thinking more paint-soaked splash bombs.”

Finger guns deployed, dual wielding. “I am so here for a paintball tag day in that case.  The flavored paint?”

“Not the scotch bonnet please,” Parvati begged. “I just know someone will get that in the face, I don’t care how much Else likes it.”

“Got it, no more pepper spraying people,” Charly agreed seriously. “OOO! I could test the new arrows out!  With something like buttered popcorn paint, obviously. Maybe kiwi on the other team.”

“Just limit the pull on the bows, okay? I don’t want anyone getting hurt.”

“Fiiiiine…”

Parvati smiled and added to her notes. “So, we probably want someone to correlate the current date to whatever the date would be on Earth… Just in case we need to get a consultant for Holi.”

“Good point. Conor is alarmingly good at that, so I can ask him.  It would be a nice cultural event if we could do that. If not, we can totally work on celebrating Holi when it comes around.”

“Final suggestion for right now, because I have to get back to work,” I sighed happily. “This is going to be the biggest ask, and the smallest at the same time…” Both nodded at me to continue. “Care packages, for everyone. And I mean everyone on the Ark.”

“Sophia,” Parvati scolded me. “That’s almost ten thousand people and sixteen animal companions.”

“Well aware,” I forged on, “We’ll talk to Sam about the bows, I can wrap them. Commission some of those really nice chocolates, or maybe some taffy from Simon. And something salty.  I know there is someone on the Ark who makes aromatherapy candles, Tyche is bananas about them.”

Shaking her head, she added it to the list. “If you insist on that, I insist on a celebration for the drop out of FTL.  Hannah and I can use some of the plans from the Food Festival, include Charly’s paint tag - “

“And Kink Night!”

“- and Kink Night, apparently… have several events going on across the Ark, since we already discussed declaring a holiday.”

“Get Bash’s permission to use the Undine again, and I won’t object,” I surrendered before standing. “On that note, I really do have to get back to work.  Come on, Vati, we have work to do apparently.”

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[litniche]

For as Long as We Both Shall Live

Damie Fic, Read on ao3   

From a few pews back on the bride’s side of the aisle, Flora didn’t look at all splendid. She looked perfect. She was beaming. Her eyes shone and her grin split her features as the groom recited his portion of the vows.

 “I take you to be my lawful wife.” 

 Jamie balanced too many things in her hands as she tried to unlock the door upon arriving home. Like her, the thing was stubborn. Ultimately, she gave up and jammed the manila envelope she held in one hand into her mouth, holding it gingerly between her lips as she finally managed to twist the key and the knob at the same time--the trick to it. 

 “Well the queue was shite!” she called into the home, knowing Dani will have been home by now, “but I’ve got it. Our union is officially civil.” The gardener smiled at the notion, and tossed the documentation onto the catch-all by the door. 

 “To have and to hold,”

 Dani had put on that movie again--the one Jamie couldn’t remember the name of, but knew had Audrey Hepburn. Dani couldn’t seem to get enough of the woman. Jamie might be jealous, but she wasn't the possessive type. Besides, as she curled up next to Dani, weaving their legs together as she opened a book, it turned out she needn't be. Audrey was good, but she couldn’t make Dani laugh the way Jamie could. As Dani grinned and chuckled at the movie, Jamie felt a small smile find its way to her lips. She planted a gentle kiss to the former au pair’s chest before leaning further into the woman to rest her head there. She felt Dani’s head rest atop hers. Dani’s heartbeat was strong and steady, and at peace.

 “From this day forth,”

 Jamie shook her head. She was already halfway home from the Manor. There was no point in turning around to go back now. She’d see Dani tomorrow or soon enough. Why go back now? Besides, the woman was clearly not ready to start anything. Though, if Jamie were being honest with herself, she knew that wasn’t true. The au pair was haunted--literally haunted. Her ex was taking up space in her life that he no longer had claim to. That wasn’t Dani’s fault. Jamie found herself thinking she would gladly chase away his dark shadow. Because Dani was ready. Every brush of Dani’s hand, every smile, every laugh, every mind-blowing kiss, and every tangential remark about a certain pub located just below a certain flat, was a gesture. Dani was ready. She’d made it pretty clear, in more ways than the gardener could count. 

The problem remained: was the gardener ready? Up until now, Jamie fancied herself a lone wolf of sorts. People simply weren’t worth it. Plants took your devotion, your time, and they showed you something for it. From leafling to bloom, they rewarded your every effort. People, on the other hand, were more likely to punish you for it. Right now, her life was good. Boring. Dull. Of little consequence. But good.

So why turn around? Why go back to Bly Manor? Why ask Owen to stick around (because, let’s face it, Hannah was less and less there these days and someone needed to watch the kids if Jamie was going to steal Dani away)? 

At last, the gardener paused on the road, because she finally knew the answer to her questions. Why go back? It was simple: it had been a rough day. Maybe Jamie’s life was good because it was boring, but what about Dani? The au pair could use a bit of boredom-- a break from far too much excitement that life was determined to send her way. From this day forth, Jamie had a strange feeling she’d fancy being that bit of boredom. 

  “For better,”

  “‘I’ll have no problem setting up the bed, Dani!’” the former au pair quoted the gardener, eyeing her with accusatory daggers and gesturing toward the very-much-unfinished bed setup.

The gardener was busted. She had zero excuses. Quite simply, she’d forgotten to set up the bed, distracted by the far more interesting needs of their new shop, The Leafling.  By the time she’d remembered the bed, and read the paltry leaflet of instructions, she’d discovered the bed's setup was more of a two-man job. Or, two-woman job, as it were. 

“I’m sorry,” she started, giving Dani a sheepish, pleading look. She stepped forward, encircling the blonde in her arms and going for that spot on Dani’s neck that she knew Dani couldn’t resist. Before long, Dani giggled and the gardener could practically feel Dani’s eyes rolling, but her arms wrapped around Jamie’s shoulders as she laughed. The gardener held the woman even closer, slipping one leg between the other woman’s as one of Dani’s hooked around her hip. 

 “I’m sorry!” Jamie said again, chuckling. 

 “Better be,” Dani laughed out the empty threat. 

  “For worse,”

  Something was wrong. Something had been wrong for a while, but Dani wasn’t telling her what it was. Here they were, about to be ‘officially civil,’ and Dani was pulling away. Jamie could feel it. She could feel every inch of Dani slipping away from her, but the woman wouldn’t tell her what was happening. And Jamie was afraid to ask. But that wouldn’t do, would it?

“ Are we going to talk?” Jamie finally managed to say, drying a pan Dani had handed her as the blonde scrubbed at a plate. 

 Dani was silent, scrubbing harder and refusing to look at Jamie. 

 Jamie closed her eyes for the briefest of seconds, disallowing the hurt to sink in. “I’ll take that as a ‘no’,” she said, and turned to put away the dish. 

 The gardener turned back to look at Dani, but the blonde didn’t appear to be staring at the water to ignore her--she looked possessed. Suddenly, Dani gasped and stood back, dropping the plate so that it shattered all over the kitchen.

 “Jesus!” Jamie stepped toward the blonde, her brows furrowed with worry. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

 Dani was still staring at the sink; her breathing was irregular and heavy, like she was running from something, and tears trailed down her cheeks. “I saw-- I saw her,” she whispered. “She’s there.”

 No. Not yet. No.

Jamie checked the sink and then looked back at Dani. “What did you see?” she asked. 

 “Her,” Dani whispered still. “I keep seeing her.” 

 “Okay,” Jamie nodded slightly. “Right.” She stepped over the larger shards of the plate and hurried to turn off the sink, letting the water drain. “Okay, it’s gone,” she said, hoping to reassure Dani. Everything would be fine. It had to be. 

 “Is it?”

 “It’s okay.”

 Dani just shook her head as she finally made eye contact with Jamie, a horrible expression of fear written all over her beautiful face. 

 Jamie shook her head, too. She refused to let this happen--to stand idly by. “You’re going to be okay,” she said. “You can’t think the worst, all right? Okay?”

“Jamie,” Dani whispered, unconvinced, and her gaze drifted once more.

 “We don’t know what this means!” Jamie said with desperation now. “We--We could have so many more years together.” She held Dani’s face, trying to regain eye contact. “Dani,” she scanned the woman’s face, “we could have so many more years.” 

 The gardener didn’t know whether she was trying to convince Dani or herself at this point, but at last, Dani nodded. 

“Okay? We’ll keep an eye on it,” Jamie said lamely, “and it’ll be fine.”

 Dani breathed more easily now, and watched Jamie’s words form on her lips, as if concentrating on them would make them true. 

 “Okay? It’s going to be okay,” Jamie reassured her. She held Dani’s face in both hands, then rubbed her shoulders in an attempt to soothe away her fears. “I’ll do the washing up from now on. Yeah?” She cocked her head, saying “You’re shit at it anyway.” 

 Dani laughed. She laughed, and it was as if the air returned to the room. It would be okay, just like Jamie had told her. It had to be. They could have so many more years.

  “For richer or for poorer”

  Dani was biting her lip and carding her fingers through her bangs as she bent over receipts and invoices atop the counter in The Leafling . Her eyes - one brown, one blue - scanned her notepad as she double-checked her work and a smirk started to tease at her lips. “I can feel you watching me.”

 Jamie’s brows arched as she played with a bit of baby’s breath, not really doing anything. “Oh you can, can you?”

 Dani made a final swipe at their bank book with her pen before closing it, evidently finished. “Yep,” she said with a pop at the end. Her smirk was fully on display now and was downright devious. Jamie might have to figure out a way to wipe it off that beautiful face. For the moment, she watched as Dani crossed one leg over the other on her stool, her legs on full display beneath a little black velvet skirt. 

 Jamie’s eyes trailed their way from those far-too-tempting limbs up Dani’s form until their eyes met each other. Dani was practically grinning now. The Yank knew exactly what she was doing to the poor gardener. “And what if I like staring at you?” Jamie asked. 

 Dani’s grin disappeared beneath her teeth as she bit her lip in response. Anyone save Jamie might not have noticed that her eyes became darker and her chest moved up and down a little quicker as her breathing sped up. 

 It was the middle of the day and though things hadn’t picked up in the shop just yet, Jamie was expecting a rush. It was Valentine’s Day, after all, and Americans loved spending their money to show each other how much they care. At any moment, they might have been interrupted, and that was the only reason Jamie was still only staring. She could feel her own breath quicken and she made a conscious effort to remind herself that as soon as they closed, it was her and Dani’s Valentine’s Day, too. 

 “You seem in good sorts,” Jamie said and flailed to change the subject, “are the books looking good?”

 Dani sighed, carding her fingers through her hair before leaning onto the counter. “They’re fine. We’re not poor, but we’re not rich.”

 The gardener shrugged. “I’ll take it,” she said, turning back to one of their ready-to-go Valentine’s Day bouquets of red roses and baby’s breath to fiddle with its arrangement for the eighteenth time. Idle hands. 

 Jamie shiverred when a pair of arms wrap around her waist from behind. Dani caught one of her ears between her teeth gently before she whispered, “I’ll take you,” in a teasing manner.

Laughing and scrunching her nose in mock disapproval of the lame word play, Jamie stopped to hold Dani’s arms in place. They rocked back and forth, and Dani sprinkled soft kisses across Jamie’s shoulders. “I love you,” she whispered.

 They could have watered the entire shop’s worth of flowers from the puddle those words had just made Jamie. “I love you, too, Poppins.”

 “In sickness and in health,”

 Dani looked ready for war. Upon returning from the drug store and banging around in the kitchen, she appeared armed with vapor rub, cough drops, nasal spray, warm wash cloths, honey and citrus tea (made under strict instructions Jamie had once left on a note on the fridge), tissues, and most of all, very big and very worried eyes. Jamie almost felt more sorry for Dani than for herself. 

 “You know, it’s just a cold, Poppins,” she said from the bed.

 “You don’t get sick,” Dani said, and she frowned. She sat beside Jamie on the edge of the bed. “We’ve had The Leafling for years and I don’t think I remember you skipping one day of work before this.” She worried her lip as she looked down at the warm wash cloth she was folding.

 Humoring her, Jamie closed her eyes and let the woman dampen her forehead. Then she let Dani apply the pungent vapor rub to her chest--that bit wasn’t so bad. Pillows were fluffed and her temperature was taken. Jamie drew the line, though, when Dani made as if to apply a tissue to Jamie’s nose for her to blow. 

 “I’m fine, Poppins. Honestly. I just need a day taking it easy. I’ll be back down in the shop tomorrow, love.”

 The former au pair shook her head. “Only if you’re better.”

 “I’ll be better,” Jamie assured her. She reached for Dani’s hand and linked their pinkies before bringing them to her lips so she could kiss her own thumb in a promise. 

 “Well, it’s a Tuesday. The shop shouldn't be that busy anyway, so I’ve left a note with our number in case anyone needs something. Meantime, I’ll keep you company.” She smiled and tucked a strand of Jamie’s hair behind an ear. “Can I get you anything else?”

 The gardener nodded her head and curled a finger to direct the woman to come closer. Concern in her eyes, Dani hovered above Jamie as she waited for instructions. Instead, Jamie pulled her down on top of her, grinning when she heard Dani giggle with an “oof!” It made her laugh and that caused a bit of a coughing fit that made Dani spring back as if she’d scorched the gardener with a hot fire-poker. “I’m so sorry!”

 “Oh baby, come here,” Jamie managed. She patted the spot next to her. “I swear to you, I’m fine.”

 “Well, I think you should rest.” “Good, you’re my favorite pillow. Don’t make a sick woman ask again.”

 Dani rolled her eyes, but climbed into bed after removing her shoes. After settling against the headboard, she guided Jamie to rest on her chest. “Do you want me to put something on? A movie?”

 Jamie nodded as she nuzzled further into the woman, closing her eyes. “You pick.” 

 “I’ve already got a good one in. I’ll just play that one?”

“Sounds perfect,” Jamie said in a haze. She could feel herself drifting. 

 At some point, Jamie woke up, but it was dark out. She couldn’t tell if it was late evening or the middle of the night. She looked up to see that Dani was still awake. “How long was I out?”

“A few hours. You hungry?”

 “A girl could get used to this,” Jamie smiled. She kissed Dani’s chest. “A bit of pasta with butter would sit right, I think.”

“I’ll go make it,” Dani said eagerly. She kissed the top of Jamie’s head and gently extricated herself. 

 “Dani?” Jamie called.

Dani stopped just before leaving the room. “Hmm?” 

 “Thank you.” 

 Dani’s expression softened. She leaned against the doorframe of their bedroom as she smiled at Jamie. “Anytime.” 

  “...for as long as we both shall live.”

  The groom finished his vows and Flora’s grin was still brilliant. It was her turn now, and Jamie remembered all those years ago at Bly Manor--how Flora so enjoyed reciting her own lines. She was surprised Flora hadn’t written her own vows, in fact, but then again it had been many years since the budding theatre artist had written and performed anything as far as the gardener knew. 

 “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” Jamie imagined saying to Dani. “Doesn’t she look happy?”

“Like us,” Jamie imagined Dani saying in return. Then she would have weaved their arms together as she leaned in close to her side. 

 “Like us,” Jamie nodded in agreement with the phantom Dani. She caught Owen’s tear-glistened eye and smiled fondly. The poor sap. 

 “He’s such a romantic . Always has been ,” Dani would have told her. Jamie could almost imagine the feel of Dani squeezing her hand. “Such as shame he never found anyone again,” Dani might have said.

Jamie disagreed with that. “The vows are ‘for as long as we both shall live,’ love. I don’t think anyone would measure up to Hannah for him. No one could ever measure up to you.” 

Dani would have tsked and told her she hadn’t really tried. In truth, Jamie hadn’t. People were exhaustive. Every great once in a while, you might find the walking personification of a moonflower, but she’d already done that. She had experienced so many years of beauty and devotion and love. It hadn’t been enough, but it had been more than she ever thought possible. 

 The rest of the day blurred from one aspect of ceremony to the next. Before she knew it, Jamie was back in her hotel room. She checked the mirror, then the sink, and even the tub, but knew she would only see herself. With a crack in the door and the lights turned off, she was ready for bed. Or, rather, she was ready for a nap in the chair facing the door. On the off chance Dani might decide to join her, she would be waiting and ready. For as long as she lived. 

[wiredelta]

Recorded 2/15/24

[khalilhumam]

Federal breakdowns are accelerating

New Post has been published on http://khalilhumam.com/federal-breakdowns-are-accelerating/

Federal breakdowns are accelerating

By Paul C. Light The Trump administration has made little effort to honor the president’s promises to make government work. Employee morale is down, public distrust is up, and the swamp has never been so vibrant. Americans know trust in the federal government has declined, believe it is affecting government’s ability to act, blame government performance for a substantial share of the decline, and even say it should be repaired. At the same time, Americans say the federal government gets the respect it deserves.[1] The failure to address the need for government reform feeds the cycle of disappointment that threatens the nation. As my colleagues, Will Howell and Terry Moe argue in Presidents, Populism, and the Crisis of Democracy, Trump’s rise to power is more a symptom than a cause of the current populist crisis. New policies for economic and social renewal would help stem the threat, but such renewal would only succeed with a return to the faithful execution of the laws. Hence, Howell and Moe’s call to reform includes a long list of standard bureaucratic reforms such as reducing the number of political appointees and strengthening the civil service.[2] Trust in government is also related to demographic, economic, and social change, but appears to be highly responsive to government breakdowns. Even if an occasional breakdown can be justified as the price of ambition, the recent acceleration creates a sense that the federal government cannot be trusted to meet minimal expectations for reliability and care. The sluggish response to COVID-19 will long be remembered as one of the federal government’s greatest breakdowns, but it also triggered a cascade of smaller breakdowns as beleaguered agencies struggled to perform seemingly simple tasks such as printing and mailing stimulus checks to people. Moreover, breakdowns often return to the front page when blue-ribbon investigations, court cases, histories, and even books about the government’s greatest failures reach the news again. Past breakdowns and the failures to fix the underlying problems are also relitigated when new breakdowns are triggered by the same or similar causes. (Read through the 70 post-2001 breakdowns here and the COVID-19 crisis becomes a failure foretold by previous failures.[3]) These include the failure of imagination that led to the 9/11 attacks, the depleted supply-chain that undermined the response to Hurricanes Katrina and Maria, the “pervasive permissiveness” toward risky financial industry behaviors that sparked the Great Recession, the denial that preceded the Challenger and Columbia tragedies, and the overpromising that turned what should have been the agile launch of the Obamacare website into a nightmare of frozen screens. The total number of highly-visible breakdowns may seem small, but it accelerated as the federal bureaucracy strained to do more with less, with aging government systems and political turmoil. The pre-2001 administrations averaged just 1.4 breakdowns per year from 1986-2000, while the post-2001 administrations have averaged 3.5 to date. Compared administration-to-administration, the Trump administration has more than tripled the number of breakdowns in George H.W. Bush’s first and only term, while the three post-2001 presidents have more than doubled their predecessors. Figure 1 shows the number of breakdowns by presidential administration. The rising number of highly-visible breakdowns is almost certainly tied to media polarization.  Government breakdowns under Democratic control may have produced higher ratings at Fox, just as breakdowns under Republican control may have been a boon for MSNBC and CNN, both of which could be fueling greater public interest in stories about failure. Notwithstanding the partisan incentives that might underpin the pursuit of visibility at CNN, Fox, or MSNBC, there is good reason to blame decades of neglect for the increase, be it in the failure to upgrade government management systems, the desperate need for civil service reform, the death of government reorganization as a tool for increasing efficiency, the budgetary cliff-diving that led to shutdowns and annual uncertainty, and the bureaucratic layers discussed in the fourth piece of this series. As Figure 1 shows, the same data tell a different story when they are divided into breakdowns per year. Suddenly, what looks like a peak during the Obama administration turns into an steady rise from 1.6 breakdowns per year during Reagan’s second term to 4.3 breakdowns per year under Trump. Democratic nominee Joe Biden and his team would be well advised to note the recent acceleration in the number of breakdowns per year—and be reminded of those that occurred during his tenure as vice president. The acceleration makes the Trump administration more vulnerable to criticism, but also should raise warnings about overpromising in the absence of a government reform agenda—something Mr. Trump did during the 2016 campaign and as president and Mr. Biden is doing in the 2020 campaign. President Trump has himself to blame for any backlash against his long list of first-term government breakdowns. Having reassured his party in 2016 that he “alone could fix it,” Trump showed little interest in doing so. Administrative experts may disagree on how Trump set a record in first-term breakdowns, but he alone must claim it. Absent action to repair the underlying causes of failure that each president inherits, the blame goes to the incumbent.

[1] Seventy-five percent of the Americans interviewed by the Pew Research Center in December, 2018, 64% said low trust in the federal government made it harder to solve problems, 36% volunteered in written open-ended answers that the federal government’s performance, or the lack thereof was to blame for the decline, and 68% said it was very important to repair the decline. See Lee Rainie and Andrew Perrin, “Key findings about Americans declining trust in government and each other,” Pew Research Center, July 22, 2019. [2] William G. Howell, and Terry M. Moe, Presidents, Populism, and the Crisis of Democracy, Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2020; see also the 2019 Knight Commission on Trust, Media and Democracy for a review of the data and effects, [3] In my list of highly visible government breakdowns, I build on the defunct Pew Research Center News Interest Index. Launched in 1986, the original index was designed to track public attention to “stories in the news” over time. Respondents were read a list of stories covered by news organizations in a specific period and asked whether they followed each of the stories on the list very closely, fairly closely, not closely, or not at all closely. The question was first used by the Times Mirror Center for the People & the Press in July 1986 and remained in the queue when the Times Mirror Center became the Pew Research Center in 1996 and remained in the inventory until a three-year hiatus began in late summer 2015. The current question asks respondents “How much, if anything, have you heard or read about each of the following stories that have been in the news recently?” I used the 1986-2015 data in my 2015 Volcker Alliance report, Vision + Execution = Faithful Execution. I reconstructed the Pew survey question to the extent I could by compiling lists of major news stories such as the AP’s annual survey of U.S. editors and news directors. I then searched for polling data on each story and selected the most visible stories for further review. The Volkswagen emissions-testing scandal was the first news story that showed up on my list after the Pew Research Center suspended the news interest question. I began adding to the index on my own in 2010 by following high-visibility new stories that involved a federal government breakdown that was being followed very or fairly closely by at least 30 percent of respondents. I made the judgment about whether a given story revealed a significant federal government failure based on news stories, congressional investigations, and other available information about the federal role in the event. Readers should note that the recent list of breakdowns is solely based on my judgment about what constitutes a breakdown. I define a breakdown as a time-specific event that reveals an administrative failure in how the federal government executed a law. I readily accepted poorly crafted policy as a cause of such failures, but focused on execution as I read stories in the news. For example, the Federal Aviation Administration (FAA) did not cause the Boeing 737 Max accidents—the design flaws, cost-cutting, and regulatory evasion belongs to Boeing. However, as the House Transportation and Infrastructure Committee recently reported, the two crashes that killed 346 people reflected a “horrific combination” of failure that included the FAA’s weak oversight and improper regulatory delegation. See Niraj Chokshi, “House Report Condemns Boeing and F.A.A. in 737 Max Disasters,” New York Times, September 16, 2020.

[feelssogoodinmyarms]

Opinions Needed!!!

Hey guys!! So I’m working on a new fic and I need help. There’s a song called “Son of a Preacher Man” and it was originally sung by Dusty Springfield. A few years ago Tom Goss redid it and donated the proceeds to an LGBT organization. So I’ve become obsessed with the music video (that you can find here) and it really reminded me of Melchior and Moritz. So I started thinking and I kind of hashed out an AU where Melchior is the son of the preacher (even though he hates it and gets into fights with his dad all the time) and some stuff happens. I wrote the first chapter and I don’t really know where to go with it but I wanted some feedback if you’re interested. I haven’t made it exclusively obc or dwsa. It’s set in modern au right now but I can change that. I also wanted to make a prequel eventually with Wendla? I hate her and Melchior together but I think it could be interesting. But right now I’m just focusing on this piece. So please give me your thoughts!! You can message me or leave comments or repost? Idk, just tel me what you think because nobody I know irl is interested in my writing hahaha

Words: 1624

TW: Like two curses I think? Moritz is a little suicidal, Ilse has an abusive home life, internalized homophobia

Moritz Stiefel groaned and rolled out of bed. He hadn’t slept all night. For once, it wasn't because of his “special dreams”. There was homework he had to do, his father was angry at him, the whole weight of the world seemed to rest on his shoulders. He had felt that way most of his life, no matter how much he was told it wasn't true. Moritz was a wreck more often than not. More recently he had started to wonder what the point was. Why did he keep getting up and going to school just to fail at everything? He couldn't do anything right, he heard that a lot from his father and teachers enough. He told it to himself often enough, he didn't need to hear it from them. Thank god for Ilse, she was the only person who emed to care. Ilse was the only person who could convince him he was worth it. For all the shit she had gone through, it was crazy that she stayed so positive. She had to be some kind of angel. He only wished he could do more to help her. Moritz would probably have killed himself by now if it weren't for Ilse.

Today, he had to go to another one of his least-favorite places: church. The older he got the less church made sense. It was just another place that told him how much of a failure he was. He prayed every night, he hoped that life would get better, but it seemed God wasn’t there. It was ridiculous, his dad would probably crucify him if he found out. Church just seemed like another chore.

Moritz looked in the bathroom mirror. He had dark circles under his eyes and his hair was sticking out at ten different angles. Not much different from his normal demeanor.

“Son!!” Moritz heard his father yell from downstairs.

“Yes?” Moritz answered in a groggy voice

“We’re leaving in 10 minutes!! Look decent!!”

“Yes sir” Moritz responded monotonously.

Moritz’s dad was his least favorite person. Moritz couldn’t help but chuckle every time he thought that. How pathetic was it, to have your own father be the person you hate most? Well Ilse must hate her father after all he did to her, but that was different. Mr. Stiefel was just cruel and reasonable. Moritz always seemed to let his father down no matter how hard he tried. After awhile it was just ridiculous to keep trying. Moritz just tried to steer clear of his dad, the less contact hey had the better.

Moritz checked his phone. Two texts from Ilse and one from Ernst.  

Forest Nymph: it’s a nice morning

Forest Nymph: suns really bright wtf

That was Ilse’s way of checking in with him. If she needed to come stay with him because things got out of hand at home she would just climb in through his window. He kept it unlocked for her. With texts like these she was possibly high or just excited about the day.

Fuzzy Boi: yeah it is

Fuzzy Boi: do you want to meet up later?

The text from Ernst was something different. He and Ernst weren’t really friends, more like acquaintances. Not that Ernst wasn’t nice and all, he just had friends and Moritz had virtually none.

Ernst Robel: Good morning Moritz! What are you doing after church today?

Did Ernst Robel really want to hang out with him, Moritz Stiefel? Moritz was just such a loser in his mind, and Ernst was far cooler. No one at school wanted anything to do with Moritz. He really didn’t blame them, but this was strange. Moritz decided to respond.

Moritz Stiefel: Good morning Ernst. I have some homework to finish but that’s it. Why do you ask?

“Son, five minutes!!” Mr. Stiefel yelled form downstairs.

Shit!! Moritz thought as he hastily threw some clothes on.

Moritz sat in the pews with his parents as he waited for the sermon to start. He wished Ilse still came to church, it would be much more fun with her. Moritz willed himself not to doze off. It hadn’t even started and he was already slipping. Someone walked in that perked him up immediately.

“Welcome to God’s house” The preacher said once he had reached the podium.

“Amen” everyone responded. This was the new preacher, he came in the spring. There was a new preacher this year, as Farther [insert german name] had retired last year. The new preacher invited his wife and son to stand with him at the podium.

“My name is Father Gabor, this is my wife and son. We are very honored to be teaching you of God for the next few months”

Father Gabor continues to go on but Moritz wasn’t listening. He was staring at Father Gabor’s son. He looked like he’d rather be anywhere else in the world but here. In fact, he looked so annoyed that he might burst into flames any second. He continually shot his father dirty looks, especially at mentions of god. Moritz wondered why the boy was so angry. Sure, church was boring but it was nothing to get so upset about.

It seemed the anger on his features only made him more handsome. Father Gabor’s son was very handsome, like he was out of a painting or something. Even though he was angry, there was the hint of a smirk on his pink lips. It made Moritz’s heart beat faster than it ever had in church.

After church Moritz found himself walking with Ernst Robel. The two boys were walking back to the Robel house, talking of school and friends and other ordinary things. Moritz tried to focus on what Ernst was saying but he found his mind wandering back to the handsome preacher’s son.

Moritz wished he had gotten to speak to him after the service. The Gabors were talking to various adults and introducing themselves. Father Gabor’s son shook hands with everyone but did not smile. It made him all the more mysterious.

“Moritz? Moritz are you alright?” Ernst asked.

Shit, I zoned out

“Uhm, yeah I’m fine. I was just thinking”

“Was it about the preacher’s son?”

Moritz began coughing.

“H-How did you know?” Moritz asked in disbelief. Ernst giggled.

“I saw you looking at him during the service. He’s pretty cute, I don’t blame you” Moritz felt a blush creep up his neck.

“Why did you want to see me anyway?” Moritz asked.

“A few reasons. Firstly, I noticed you sitting alone at lunch”

Moritz couldn’t help but scoff.

“What?”

“Oh it’s just I’ve been sitting alone ever since I moved here last year. I don’t know why you care all of the sudden”

Ernst looked heart broken. Moritz almost felt bad for him.

“I, uh, guess I didn’t realize until now. How lonely you are I mean” Ernst stared at his shoes as they walked.

“Um, why else?” Moritz asked, desperate to change the subject.

“I was wondering if you’d like to have lunch with me sometime. You don’t have to, it’s just an offer”

“Sure” Moritz responded. This made no sense but if Ernst wanted to be friends, why not?

“Great!! This is my house, I know you had homework to do”

“Right, homework. I guess I’ll see you?”

“Yeah, see you!” Ernst hugged Moritz quickly before running into his house.

Moritz broke into a sprint as he left the town behind. He let his jacket fall off behind him as he entered the forest. He was going to Ilse and his place in the forest to meet. Since the boys and girls went to different schools he only saw her on the weekends. Going to the forest with her was a total escape from everything. Not a total escape, but still an escape, Moritz kept running until he got to the clearing with the stream and the tall tree where he and Ilse always talked.

There she was, right on queue. She was sitting in their tree, staring off in the distance like a forest nymph.

“Ilse!!” He called up. She looked down and smiled when she saw him. She swung down to greet him with a hug. When she pulled away he saw her eyes were puffy.

“Hey, were you crying?” he asked.

“I had a rough morning” she said, trying her best to be chipper.

“What happened?”

“I woke up at four am to screaming coming from downstairs. I just ran and ended up sleeping here”

“In the forest? Why didn’t you come to my place?”

“I didn’t want to wake you up”

“I was up all night, I didn’t sleep. You should have come. You worry me with that shit”

“Next time. Sorry”

“Nah, don’t be”

The two say at the edge of the river and talked.

“So there was a new preacher to church today” Moritz started. 

“Yeah? Is he hot?”

“No but his son is” Moritz blurted out and immediately regretted it. Ilse started laughing. 

“Really? What’s his name?”

“I don’t know” Moritz felt the blush coming back. 

“I ship it!! You should ask him out!!” Ilse squealed. 

“I can’t do that!” Moritz hid his face in his hands. 

“Aww you love him!!”

“Ilse!!” Ilse giggled again.

“It’s cute. I thank you guys would be cute together” 

“I’d just… hate to see how my dad would react” Moritz said with dread. 

“To the fact that you like boys?” Moritz cringed.

“Yeah”

“Who gives a rat’s ass? If he’s not gonna be supportive then screw him. You deserve better”Moritz smiled. 

“Thanks Ilse”

“Don’t mention it”

“You wanna grab lunch?”

“I don’t have any money”

“Pshh, I’m paying” Ilse grinned at that. 

“If you insist” Ilse said as the two walked out of the forest.

[interested-in-history]

Why was cinema so popular in the inter-war years?

In inter-war years cinema became an incredibly popular leisure activity especially with working classes and women. It was a cheap leisure activity that was available to all. The films themselves were “only part of the total experience”, especially in the 1920s when purpose built cinemas were emerging as places of splendour exuding luxury. People admired the actors and actresses on screen especially Gracie Fields who is most famous for the film ‘Sing as We Go’. The controversy within the popularity of cinema comes down to the censorship of this medium - it was the most censored within this period. Censorship implies that messages within films were being controlled therefore restricting what people see however, there is evidence that this wasn't the case.

Class and gender played an important role in the increasing popularity of cinema. The cheap films were “consumed as necessity among poorest members” of societies especially working classes as they had the freedom to “take advantage of new opportunities” like the cinema. This meant that for “no more than a few coppers” people no matter what background could “purchase ready-made dreams”. The cinema was “indisputably the most popular form of entertainment”. 1930s cinema was popular among the unemployed too, surveys across the nation showed that the cinema was the “most important leisure activity” for the unemployed. The cinema gave the unemployed an escape to a ‘wish-fulfilment’ world away from the hum-drum lives they lead. Under unemployed married women made up a large proportion and Rowntree found also made up “75% of adult cinema goers”. Women could fit in the cinema around their domestic duties and early on in the inter-war years it was a time for socialising as well as a leisure pursuit. Younger married couples were also more likely to attend the cinema as a pastime compared to older married couples, because the younger generation had the funds necessary as well as more free time due to a reduction in the working week. However cinema was just as important to those in employment, mainly being the young generations who grabbed hold of this “inexpensive form of entertainment” which was also suitable for courting. Some police force members were often heard commenting on how the “cinema performed valuable functions like keeping working class youths off the streets”. Annual admission rates show just how popular in the inter-war years cinema was: from “903 million in 1934” to “1,027 million in 1940” with a weekly average in 1939 of “23 million”. The cinema “gradually acquired a substantial middle class audience” after the cinemas outshone music halls that were originally the source of leisure for the middle classes. These middle classes, “their tastes are almost exactly opposite” to working classes as they attended the cinema for the “film first and foremost” where as to the working classes it was more of a “regular habit”. Middle classes found much of the films and stars to be aimed at the working classes so found some of themes not as engaging. Overall audiences were mainly drawn from “the working class, women, and the young”, these were the inter war cinema enthusiasts that encouraged the vastly popular source of entertainment.

The films themselves were vital to the increased popularity of cinema - they were an exciting and mind-broadening leisure pursuit available to all. The 1920s saw the creation of purpose built cinemas with names such as The Palace and Empress creating an “atmosphere of luxury”. The buildings had marble staircases, fountains, uniformed staff and ushers, and even some cafes. They were built to become part of the fantasy and to allow people to “enter a palace of dreams” and further the film experience.

American films were preferred due to the better quality within the film and more action involved in storylines compared to British films that had too much dialogue and were often poorly made. American films were “opening up a new world” for audiences, as the Daily Express wrote in an edition in 1927 cinema-goers became “‘temporary US citizens’”. Left-wing politicians also described Hollywood films like they were the “‘opiate’ for the masses”. This ‘opiate’ provided the ritualistic element of the films - queueing to enter the places for dreams, sitting in silence and seeing a world of glamour, almost similar to the habit of churchgoing. The cinema can be compared to a cathedral how people flock to it and knew the shape of the building, the seats can be the pews where people sit and listen, and the stars represent the deities that were worshipped within stories. These American films were also allegedly undermining respect for British institutions such as family and marriage as well as “glamourising crime” within “‘gangster’ films”.Within British films there were big names that rose to fame during the inter-war period such as Gracie Fields, Alfred Hitchcock and Charlie Chaplin. Hitchcock became known as the master of suspense, Chaplin was the key in most comedy films and Gracie was known as ‘Our Gracie’. The genres that were most popular were “melodrama, comedy, musicals, and drama” especially some of the thrillers released by Hitchcock.

Sound and colour were also being introduced during the inter-war period with The Jazz Singer being the first feature length ‘talkie’ in 1927 and The Wizard of Oz merging black and white scenes with the technicolour of Oz in 1939. Cinema was making huge strides and this contributed to the popularity as it intrigued audiences. These new advances strengthened the “escapist fantasies” the audience craved. However these inter-war films were criticised for little realistic depiction. To address these criticisms John Grierson introduced the documentary film movement operating within Empire Marketing Board with more emphasis on ordinary, real life themes such as Night Mail (1936) that depicted the operation of a Royal Mail train service experimenting with sound, visuals and narration. This piece portrayed a theme of modernity juxtaposed with tradition and put forward the reliance Britain had developed on the postal system. This type of film would have been shown as an opening act or in schools; however tensions developed within audiences over the educational standpoint and their desire for escapism within the films.

The films were also being censored during the inter-war years more than any other medium at this time. The Censorship Act of 1927 introduced the films that people nicknamed “quota quickies”. This act established a quota for British films to meet so to boost the industry against the strong competition of Hollywood, but it had mixed results. American films were less censored as it was assumed that the public would not translate any social messages through the film, suggesting people were lost in the glamour rather than understanding the messages within. Love on the Dole was a film rejected by the BBFC in 1936 due to the bad language and fights with police - it was eventually filmed in 1940 when the historical setting was more acceptable for the controversial themes. According to Orwell these censored movies “averted revolution” in Britain by controlling the messages that were put through in film. Fielding writes about this controversy between the control or reflection of values in British society. Within his journal piece Fielding argues that cinema “cannot overturn fundamental beliefs and values” but also states later on that the films “shaped popular perceptions”. Here the controversy is clearly a difficult subject; even a historian can’t fully give a true answer. The argument that the films were reflecting views that many of the audience agreed with and created a form of “social control” is evident. Film did not, as some higher classes thought, “‘dope’ the working classes”. These empowering films would include the film ‘Sing as We Go’ that starred the widely loved actress Gracie Fields. This film promoted no class conflict and meeting unemployment with optimism. Higher classes used films as a tool to make profits and distract working classes yet the film’s workers gave genuine optimism and represented Britishness. Films were seen to be encouraging social myths and furthering moral values within classes such as optimism, no class conflicts and sustaining themselves. Films were reflecting themes that the audiences wanted because they kept coming back for more, clearly the themes that were being represented were popular. Popularity continued to rise over the years due to the public’s enjoyment and fascination with the films.

Cinema was growing increasingly popular in the interwar years due to being a cheap pastime which was available to all. It was especially popular with women and youths over this period, mainly because of the themes of the films and characters such as the nation’s favourite Gracie Fields. The films were only a small part of what people loved about the cinema - the surrounding atmosphere and buildings which were built full of grandeur and to imply luxury. US films were more positively received compared to British films because the public grew a want for glamour, thrills and a better quality. Overall cinema was a past-time that all could afford and gave something new to the public that was exciting and widely received through all ages.

Bibliography

Davies, Andrew, ‘Cinema and Broadcasting’, in 20th Century Britain, Economic, Social and Cultural change ed. by Paul Johnson (Longman, London, 1994)

Fielding, Steven, ‘British politics and cinema’s historical dramas, 1929-1938’, The Historical Journal, 56,2 (2013)

Higson, Andrew, Waving the Flag: constructing a national cinema in Britain (Clarendon Press, Oxford, 1995)

McKibbin, Ross, Classes and Cultures England 1918-1951 (Oxford University Press Inc., New York, 1998)

Richards, Jeffery, Age of the Dream Palace Cinema and Society in 1930s Britain (I.B.Tauris & Co Ltd, London, 2009)

Richards, Jeffery, Films and British national identity: from Dickens to Dad’s army, (Manchester University Press, New York, 1997)

Richards, Jeffery, ‘The British Board of Film Censors and content control in the 1930s: images of Britain’, Historical Journal of Film, 1,2 (1981)

Sedgwick, John, ‘Cinema-going Preferences in Britain in the 1930s’, in The Unknown 1930s, an alternative history of the British cinema 1929-1939 ed. by Jeffrey Richards (I.B.Tauris & Co Ldt., London, 2000)

Sedgwick, John, Popular filmgoing in 1930s Britain: a choice of pleasures, (University of Exeter Press, Exeter, 2000)

http://www.screenonline.org.uk/film/id/451833/

[ericfruits]

With face-masks, Britain imported an American culture war

Made in the USA With face-masks, Britain imported an American culture war

The coverings should be uncontroversial—they are not

BRITONS LIKE to think of themselves as a fair-minded bunch who play by the rules. The national character, in theory, involves standing in queues, getting in a round at the pub and “walking” before being given out in cricket. The wearing of face-masks, then, ought to be uncontroversial: it is a public-spirited act that benefits all. From August 8th, the mandatory use of masks will be extended to more indoor spaces in England, and police will be more vigorous in enforcing the rules.

Yet the use of masks in Britain, which rallies around its health service, is lower than it is in America, a country now synonymous with weirdly aggressive anti-mask sentiment. In part that is because the government has put out confusing public-health messages. Usage surged after it became compulsory on public transport and in shops.

But a new study by King’s College London and Ipsos MORI, a pollster, found that 13% of Britons believe that “the government only wants us to wear face masks as a way of controlling us”, and that 18% are “more focused on protecting civil liberties” than controlling the coronavirus. The Daily Telegraph, a conservative broadsheet, has run several pieces decrying their use, arguing that masks destroy public confidence, make their wearers feel “less human” and prove that Britain is “the scaredy-cat of Europe”. A letter-writer to the paper called mandatory mask-use “a massive infringement of my personal liberty”. Toby Young, founder of the Free Speech Union, calls the decision to require people to wear masks “very disappointing”.

The British controversy mirrors a trend in America where, says Bobby Duffy of the Policy Institute at King’s College, “your views on a range of issues can be predicted knowing your party identity through a process called ‘conflict extension’, where you start with things like abortion and slowly more and more issues are rolled into this identity.” More than twice as many Democrats as Republicans say masks should always be worn in public places.

In Britain the gap between Labour voters and Conservatives who say they have recently worn a mask is just 9%. But identities related to Brexit have in some ways supplanted party affiliation. A review by the Royal Society of academic literature on the use of masks noted the difficulty “for co-ordinated action due to political polarisation—which is notable in countries such as the US, UK and Brazil, which in turn results in distrust of the opposing party and beliefs in false information that can undermine public-health messages.”

That suggests the importance of a second finding by Kings College: people who get most of their news from social media are much likelier than the general public to hold anti-mask views. Just 10% of Britons think wearing a mask is bad for health, but among those who get their news from WhatsApp, the proportion rises to 27%. More than a third of those who get their news from WhatsApp, and just under a third of those who get their news from YouTube, believe that mandatory masks are a form of government control. A new study by Pew, an American pollster, finds that “those who rely on social media for news are less likely to get the facts right about the coronavirus and politics and more likely to hear some unproven claims.”

Melinda Mills, an Oxford sociologist who co-wrote the Royal Society report, says she has received vicious abuse on Twitter for her research: for instance, calls for her to be jailed for “criminal deception and accomplice to murder”. (They were eventually deleted after she complained to Twitter.) “People are going into rabbit holes of information,” says Ms Mills.

As Brexit gets done, the issue’s political salience, and thus its power to polarise the population, is fading. But conspiracy theories and political sentiment originating in America and elsewhere easily make their way to Britain through social-media streams. “We do have a polluted information environment and it’s much easier to spread that type of disinformation than it was in the past, and it is much more difficult for people to sort the trustworthy information from the untrustworthy information,” says Mr Duffy. So far, Britain’s political leaders have not taken much advantage of it; Britons must hope it stays that way.■

Editor’s note: Some of our covid-19 coverage is free for readers of The Economist Today, our daily newsletter. For more stories and our pandemic tracker, see our hub

This article appeared in the Britain section of the print edition under the headline "Made in the USA"

https://ift.tt/3gCIZrG

[calummwhatchasay]

I Think We Have a Connection (C.H.)

College sucks. Everyone says that but like, college really fucking sucks. The university you’re at is great, no really, it is, but it only guarantees housing for freshmen and sophomores. So you’ve been forced to move into an overpriced apartment that’s overcrowded with college kids, way too many of whom like to party when you’re trying to write because, like the idiot you are, you decided to major in English. Yes, you love to write, and read, and study the English language, but trying to go through the creative process is really hard when all you can focus on is trying to figure out whether the pounding in your skull is the bass from the floor above you or your headache.

One upside of living around college students, though, is that everyone in your building is in your age range, meaning cute people aren’t always so hard to come by. And there was this one guy... Calum.

Maybe two weeks after you moved in, your next door neighbor moved out, which was a relief. The guy was a creep and an ass. He would come over early in the morning and ask for the randomest crap, just to see you in your pajamas. The other reason his departure was so nice was that the newest denizen was Calum. And well, Calum was something else. By something else, you mean a god. (And he’s a music major. How hot is that?) If only could get your head out of your ass long enough to form a coherent sentence around him.

-

It’s around seven in the evening and you’re working on your latest Creative Writing assignment. A song. You’re not exactly a rhyming genius. To be honest, you hated creative writing until someone told you not every poem has to rhyme. But songs, songs do. Songs rhyme. You sit at your computer, staring at the word document in front of you. So far you’ve got six lines:

‘I once saw a cat Eating its scat It was nast -Y and blast That Nasty cat’

Not your best work. At all. Ever. If you could burn your computer without being out nearly a thousand dollars, you would be poking a burning log with a stick.

You’re having trouble with rhyming, right? Okay, what’s a word that has a lot of rhymes. Blue. Pew. Ew. New. Glue. Shoe. Cue. Queue. ‘Queue’ is such a dumb word. Why are there so many ‘ue’s. You only need one. You don’t even need one. Just the letter works. Both are pronounced “Q”. It’s like the ‘ay’ in ‘okay’. Useless.

Like your brain, apparently.

You just, you need a nap. A long nap. Or a break. You could go for a 3 month nap. That’s why summer vacation exists, though. Oh, vacation. How you love vacation. No frustrations, just rest. Hey, wait. Vacation, frustration. Um, motivation. Elation. Imitation. Corporation. Migration. Collectivization. Oh hell yeah, this is it.

‘Collectivization In our nation Isn’t good for Future generations

No corporations Just calculations One advantage Is no inflation

Emigration Deportation Were the same ‘Cos of Stalin’s regulations

Imitation In other nations The reason for the USSR’s creation’

That is simultaneously the worst and best thing you have ever written. You also have literally no tune for it, but the cadence didn’t suck and it rhymed, so you were going to print it out. If you didn’t come up with anything better, you were going to turn it in too. You print the document, but, as per usual, it doesn’t fucking print. Why does your printer never work? You think it might be the connection between the printer and the computer. You knew you shouldn’t have gotten a wireless one but the stupid salesman convinced you it would ‘work better in the long run’ and ‘all the biggest corporations use them’. You sigh and try printing again, to no avail. You figure you’ll just go to bed and try again in the morning.

The next morning you wake, feeling much better. Until you remember your Creative Writing assignment. Well, those thirty seconds were quite possibly the best thirty seconds of your life. You rummage around your kitchen, looking for some eggs or something to cook up. You quickly come across some old boxed pancake mix, and figure, why the hell not? As you finish cooking and realize that goddamit you’re out of paper plates again, you hear strumming from next door. You sigh quietly, listening to Calum hum a tune.

After a couple of minutes, he strums the guitar again. He pauses, and then begins to strum in earnest.

“Collectivization In our nation”

Your eyes widen and you nearly drop your pancakes as you sprint across the room, faster than someone in slippery socks ought to on a tile floor. Your hands grapple with the lock for a second before you’re standing in the hall pounding a nervous beat into Calum’s door.

He opens the door, and for just a second you’re taken aback by the fact that he looks absolutely gorgeous in a t-shirt and basketball shorts.

“Um, Y/N? Did you need something?” He prompts, eyeing your pancakes suspiciously.

“What? Oh, er, yea.” Blood makes its way to your cheeks in an embarrassing beet-red blush. “Yea, about that. Where did you get that?”

“Get what?”

“That, well, song, for lack of a better word.”

“Oh! The one about Stalin. Can you hear my music through the wall? I’m sorry about that. I didn’t disturb you, did I?”

“No, no. I was cooking.” You hold up the four pancakes your’re holding. Without a plate. Buddha, Mary, and Allah, you look like a fool. Oh well. “But, uh, the song.”

“Right. Is it yours? My printer printed it.”

“Oh my god.” You groan. “I’m so sorry you had to read that.”

“It’s really not that bad.”

“You don’t have to say that. It really is.”

He bites his lip before conceding, “Yea, it’s not the greatest. So, wait, is all that random shit that’s been printing to my printer been yours?”

“Like what?”

“Lots of short stories.”

“You haven’t been reading those, have you?”

“Maybe just a few?”

“God.”

“They’re good!”

“You said that about my, er, song.”

“But those are actually good!” You just sigh deeply. “Do you want to come in?” He asks.

“Yea. Yea, sure.”

“So why are you even writing songs?”

“Creative Writing class.”

“Right. Do you want a plate?”

“Yea, that would be nice. I’m out.” You follow him to the kitchen.

He rummages through the cabinet before pulling out a (not paper! wow, classy) plate and handing it to you. “So... Stalin.”

“Always a conversation starter.” Calum laughs at your comment, and you look down, hiding your blush under the ruse of putting your pancakes on your plate. Your heart flutters, knowing you made this adorable boy laugh like that. “But yea. I can’t really, like, rhyme? And then I started thinking about how I just want to go on like, a fucking vacation, you know? Sorry, don’t mind my language. But, yea, I was just rhyming with the word vacation, and uh, collectivization popped into my head, and apparently I don’t actually care about my Creative Writing grade.”

“It’s unique, undoubtedly.”

“I’m just going to pretend that’s a compliment.”

“No, I’m not insulting you, I swear. Do you want me to help you, maybe? I’m a music major.” (which you definitely didn’t already know that from stalking all of his social media)

“I think I could use the help.”

The two of you spend the morning hunched over various notebooks, music sheets, and his guitar trying to find something that doesn’t suck.

“Okay, are you ready?” He looks up at you from one of the many lyric sheets sprawled about his table.

“Frustration, desperation They say I need some sort of medication Situation, no motivation Destination, permanent vacation”

“Holy shit, I think I love you.” You stare at him in awe, before your mind catches up with your mouth. “In a totally platonic, neighbor kind of way.” You mumble to your chest.

“Hey, they were your ideas, I just put them to music.” He’s not wrong, per se, the pair of you had spent the majority of the morning discussing where the idea had stemmed from - how you wanted a vacation. Still...

“No, my idea was talking about Stalin and the creation of the USSR.”

“Hey! Don’t discount educational music.” You just kind of raise your eyebrows at him and he concedes, “Okay, so it wasn’t great. But this is as much your work as mine!”

“Thanks Calum. I appreciate it. I was thinking though - not that I don’t love it as it is - but what if we changed a couple of the lyrics, just for fluidity.”

“Please.” Calum hands you the lyric sheet he’s been reading off of, and you shouldn’t care half as much as you do when your hands brush.

“Um, what about ‘They say I need some kind of medication’?” You bring your upper lip into your mouth, thinking. “Er- this is an idea.” You look up at him. “If I’ve learned nothing in my Creative Writing class, I’ve learned that people are more engaged when you address them directly. ‘You say I need some kind of medication / Situation, no motivation / Destination, permanent vacation.” You smile up at him.

“I like that, yea. It gives it a rebellious edge, sort of. What if we, like, almost counter-argued that for the next bit?”

“What do you mean?” You ask.

“Keep the rebellion but sort of go with the classic, ‘I feel like I’m dying, but I’m fine.’”

“Alright, hit me.” You nod. Calum cocks his head, thinking.

“What if we just... go for it.

Hey, I’m doin’ fine”

“Okay, and the rebellion, a sort of ‘I-know-I’m-pissing-you-off-and-I-couldn’t-care-less.” You prompt.

“And, I’m out of line?” He says it more like a question than a statement.

“That has a bit of an awkward cadence...” You trail off.

“Hey, I’m doin’ fine And I know I’m out of line”

“Yes, perfect!” He exclaims.

“And, okay, a call to action is good in like an essay so, why not?

Let’s sing this one more time”

“It goes Destination, permanent vacation”

“Yes, oh my god, I could kiss you.” You grin.

He pauses a second, and then, “Why don’t you?”

“What?”

“Kiss me. Why don’t you?”

“Um... I guess...” You look down, fiddling with your hands, “I could?” When you look back up, he’s feet closer than he was a moment ago.

“Would you?”

“Yea. Yea, I would.” And you press your lips to his, but you can’t get a proper kiss in because the both of you are grinning like fools.

“You’re really cute, you know?” He smiles at you. 

You hum in response, and then, before you can stop it, “I’ve wanted to do this since I saw you move in.” And you put a hand on his cheek and lock your lips with his.

(Oh, and you got an A.)

MASTERLIST

[rigel126]

Tips for writing about French-speaking characters speaking in English

Here are some tips that nobody asked for on how to write French-speaking characters speaking in English. Please fill free to add more information and/or provide feedback and corrections. Please note that a number of these are also based on some linguistics stereotypes and not ALL Francophone communities and individuals across the planet speak the same way, but these tips simply serve to help you get started.

1. French and English share a shockingly large amount of vocabulary, and unfortunately many of those words are false friends or have slightly different meanings in either language. I’m not going to give a language lesson, but here are a few common words that French-speakers tend to use more when speaking in English due to the false-friends/semantics drift issue:

- ‘to demand’ (from French demander, ‘to request’) rather than ‘to ask’ or ‘to request’

- ‘not/less expensive’ instead of ‘cheap’ (there is no French equivalent for the word, they just say pas cher, ‘not expensive’)

- ‘superficial’ or ‘not deep’ rather than ‘shallow’

- for less fluent speakers, ‘to precise’ (from French préciser) to mean ‘to specify’ or ‘to state’ (a fact or information such as in official forms etc.)

- ‘good’ rather than ‘right’ or ‘correct’; conversely, ‘not good’ rather than ‘wrong’

2. French speakers tend to follow the American standard of English due to historical relations and the popularity of American TV and pop culture. Hence, they say ‘pants’ instead of ‘trousers’ and spell the word as ‘color’ instead of ‘colour’.

3. Certain phrases are said a little differently.

- ‘What age have you? I have XX years’ (of age).

- ‘What hour is it?’ to mean ‘What time is it?’

- ‘It is two (o’clock) in the afternoon’. They rarely ever say ‘It is 2 PM.’

- ‘I/You do not have the right to....’ to mean ‘I/You are not allowed to/not supposed to/forbidden from...’

- ‘I can’t do nothing.’ to mean ‘I can’t do anything.’

- ‘to pose a question’ instead of ‘to ask a question.’

- ‘to go up’ or ‘to get down from’ a car rather than ‘to get in/to get out of’ said car.

- French speakers use possessives with nouns/noun phrases differently. They usually say ‘the life of your father’ or ‘the bag of Annie’ and rarely ‘your father’s life’ or ‘Annie’s bag’.

4. French speakers use expletives and swear words more liberally than native English speakers, especially in southern France. Even a prim French grandma may be tempted to spit out an f-bomb or five! Have fun learning some common French cuss-words!

- Merde (rhymes with ‘weird’): shit; the most commonly used swear word especially up in northern France and the Paris region)

- Putain (pew-tang): ’whore’; same effect as ‘fuck’, harsher and less common than merde, used often in southern France. Used as an expletive rather than an insult.

- Pute (pewt): whore/bitch; used to insult a woman

- Fils de pute (fees-duh-pewt): son of a whore/bitch, used to insult a man or as an expletive

- Enculé (on-queue-lay): literally ’ass-fucked’; same effect as ‘fucker’, use only when you want to challenge someone to a legit fist-fight

- Connard (con-are): asshole

- Connasse (con-arse): bitch; sometimes used humorously on a woman with similar effect as the English ‘you lucky dog/bitch’

- Salope (sa-low-p): bitch

- Salaud (sa-low): bastard; sometimes used humorously on a guy with similar effect as the English ‘you lucky dog’

- Con (kong): idiot (male)

- Conne (con, but with strongly-stressed N): idiot (female)

- Niques ta mère (nick-tar-mare): ‘fuck your mother’. DO NOT use unless you’re ready for a legit fist-fight. Really, don’t.

5. Some common French-speaker habits:

- Say ‘aïe!’ (rhymes with ‘buy’ and the Spanish ay!) instead of ‘ouch!’

- When stumped by a question or organizing their thoughts, they do one of the following: (a) shrug, (b) let out a long ‘uuuuuuh’ or (c) blow air through closed lips, making a sound like a motorcycle engine. I don’t know what this action is called so please somebody let me know, but for now I’ll call it the French sigh.

- Do the ‘French sigh’ as described above in place of a regular sigh in similar situations: when one is tired, frustrated, sad or disappointed.

- Say ‘bless you’ when someone sneezes, regardless if either one is Christian or not. (In French it would be à tes/vos souhaits, literally ‘to your wishes’, implying that may your wishes come true). On the other hand, they hardly ever say ‘bless you’ as a way of showing gratitude someone.

- Say ‘happy holidays’ (bonnes fêtes, bon-fat) on Christmas to friends and outsiders, especially to non-Christians or if their religion is not known. Otherwise, they use the more traditional greeting ‘Merry Christmas’ (Joyeux Noël, jou-wah-yeuh no-el).

6. Some bad stereotypes of French citizens/speakers to get rid off.

- ‘French speakers are all white.’ WRONG-O. French speakers are racially diverse even within the birth country of the language. Remember that French is also a common language or even an official or co-official language in various countries in the Arab World (Morocco, Tunisia and Lebanon to name a few), western and central Africa, Madagascar, Mauritius, French Guiana in South America, Haiti, the Caribbean, and several French overseas territories in the Pacific. It is also the language of the educated elites in former French Indochina in Asia (Cambodia, Laos and Vietnam).

- ‘French speakers are too proud of their language to speak English’. Perhaps so in Napoleon’s time, but modern native French speakers understand and appreciate the special position of English as the de facto international language and the language of business and STEM fields. Most are trying to pick up English in school, college or evening classes. Many in fact understand English, but are simply shy when forced to speak English themselves, and they might be embarrassed by their less-than-perfect fluency or unusual accent. Be encouraging and generous with compliments, they respond well to help and praise!

- ‘The French hate England and America’. Hoo boy you could not be more wrong. The French LOVE American TV and pop-culture. Going to America or the UK to study/vacation/work is something to brag about, as is having a British or American partner. Plus they love your charming accents when you try to speak in French! However, the French might complain that you guys don’t know how to make good coffee!

- ‘Champagne is cheaper than water in France’. Mm-hmm, and that’s why champagne flows out of kitchen faucets in Paris and you can get sloshed just by taking a dip in a public pool. Seriously, people.

[wiredelta]

I'm being bullied

Recorded 7/14/23