#americans only find it acceptable to be sitting if you pay for it

[hms-no-fun]

in your view of things right now, with the political climate so hot coming into the election, and companies doing worse than ever in terms of amassing greed and power and fucking us all over... what do you think has to change to find a way out?

oh boy, what a question. i've got a BA in film studies. i pay my bills by making youtube videos and writing homestuck fanfiction. i am not an authority, i only kind of vaguely know what i'm talking about in any given conversation. but i do think about this question a lot, and i've been wanting an excuse to arrange some of my thoughts on the matter. so, you know, don't take my words here as gospel, or as a coherent platform, or whatever. i'm just a goat with some opinions who hasn't read enough theory but means well.

alright. as a communist my answer is always gonna be "proletarian revolution," but that's an endgoal we're currently nowhere near achieving. the path to getting there is impossible to truly know, because of course revolutions are historically contingent on an organized vanguard being prepared to take control in a moment of national crisis. we don't have a leftist vanguard in this country, haven't done since the FBI and state governments went to war with the Black Panthers. my ideal vision of an effective communist party is one unlike any that currently exists on a large scale in the USA, built by organizing communities to coordinate neighborhood needs, as part of city/county organizations coordinating local needs, as part of state organizations that etc. right now political parties are exclusively focused on electoralism. i want a party that can organize eviction blockades, free community daycare, reading groups, high-capacity cafeterias, and all manner of mutual aid. i want a party that can operate with solidarity, as the Panthers did by supporting the 28 day 504 sit-in that resulted in the passage of the Americans with Disabilities Act. an effective vanguard party interfaces directly with the working class and builds its policy platforms based on their needs with no apology, rather than the acceptable liberal half-measures we've grown so accustomed to.

but it's a loooooooong road to get even that far. and you might say such an organization would be offputting, but like. the Panthers won over a lot of moderates over time because they weren't just out on the streets posturing. they took care of people. we only have free school lunch programs at all because of them. this is the thing that drives me nuts about so many leftists today-- you don't win over a moderate or conservative by debating the merit of their ideas. you help improve the material conditions of their day to day life, thanklessly, as you'd do with everyone in that community, because you cannot adopt means testing by another name without selling off an essential part of yourself. slowly, over time, some of those people will be won over. it'll never be everyone, but it doesn't have to be everyone. it doesn't even have to be a majority. you can get a hell of a lot done with even just 30% of people, especially if those people are even mildly-disciplined members of a well-organized party apparatus.

so, okay, that's my sense of the broad strokes. i want a proletarian revolution by way of a militant vanguard party. not saying this is the ONLY way forward, just the one i think would be most likely to succeed under the right circumstances. but again, we're a million miles away from having a communist vanguard in this country. quite frankly, such a thing feels an impossible pipe dream at this exact historic moment. so the question for me then becomes, how do we create the conditions that would allow for such an organization to emerge, claim power, hold it long enough to build a substantial base, then act on it towards a revolutionary goal?

first you've gotta ask why it's so hard to imagine this fanciful 20th century ass operation today. obvious answers: it's fucking impossible for a third party to gain a foothold in the system as it stands, so let's fix that. ranked choice voting would be a good place to start. i'm no electoralist, but if we're presuming that the revolution isn't happening tomorrow then some element of its foundation must be in making our democracy an actual democracy that can reflect people's needs. repeal citizens united. put HUGE limits on campaign donations and make it harder to conceal donations through super PACs. redistricting is another essential piece of the puzzle-- there is precisely one map of every major usamerican city and it's the map of redlined districts where people of color were not allowed to buy property. look at wealth distribution in communities and it'll map 1 to 1 to historic redlining, guaranteed. we gotta fix gerrymandering, loosen restrictions on poll access (such as the ad hoc poll tax that is government ID requirements), and if we're really feeling frisky push for a mandatory federal voting holiday so that no one has to work on election day (which elections count for "election day" is a whole other quagmire of course). less obvious answers: the cops and the FBI are still imprisoning and murdering black, poc, native, and queer activists in broad daylight. the national prison population is an IMMENSE locus of potential revolutionary energy. some goals on that front: abolish prisons, massively defund the cops, and curtail the surveillance state. restore the convicted felon's right to vote, and otherwise remove the many bureaucratic roadblocks that artificially create the cycle of recidivism. put money into nationwide job training programs (NO PUBLIC-PRIVATE PARTNERSHIPS) not just for ex convicts but for everyone, for reasons we'll get to momentarily.

i focus on electoral reform at the start here because i think it's an illustrative example of just how sprawling the task before us is. my goal isn't to overwhelm you or make you feel doomed because "holy shit that's already a lot of stuff that feels totally impossible and you haven't even mentioned healthcare yet," but to hammer home that the class war is being fought on a million fronts. you will go completely numb if you expect any one person or organization to address all of these issues simultaneously and as soon as possible. in an ideal world, there are many many affinity groups working towards these ends all over the place, either as part of or in solidarity with our imagined vanguard. i'm trying to look at ways to materially improve the lives of people in our political economy as it currently exists, rather than just saying "we need revolution" and leaving it there.

alright then, so what about capitalism? another major factor in the systematic disenfranchisement of the working class is the role corporate employers play in maintaining the class war. nobody has time to participate in local political actions because everyone has to work crushing hours, and when they do have days to themselves they still have to personally drive to wherever things are happening and find parking, instead of grocery shopping, taking care of kids, just fucking relaxing, whatever. obvious answers: medicare for all. right now, healthcare access is tied to employment status unless you are COMICALLY poor (i just got kicked off of medicaid a couple months ago because i now make marginally more than the cutoff, which now means i'm paying $200+ more a month on healthcare and am now way more worried about money than when i was on welfare. what a great and functional system!). if you're afraid of losing your health insurance for any reason, then you are disincentivized from expressing any opinions you might have about the conduct of your employer by, say, quitting. just passing universal healthcare alone would cause some major turmoil in the US economy. invest in mass public transit with rigorous local neighborhood access, and now a hell of a lot more people are empowered to participate in civic duty. less obvious answers: get rid of at-will employment! make it much much harder for employers to fire people, and regulate the ability of corporations to do mass layoffs. this would go a long way towards throwing some wrenches into the methods corps use to invent economic prosperity through the creative application of spreadsheets. on top of that, let's nuke the absolute fuck out of means-testing for programs like food stamps, medicaid, social housing, or literally any other form of "charity" that made Reagan shit his pants.

speaking of means testing, let's talk about bullshit jobs. there are a TON of pointless, degrading, wasteful jobs in this country. corps playing middlemen to middlemen. endless state and business bureaucracy using hundreds of systems that rarely if ever communicate with one another, putting a huge administrative burden on working people while the rich beneficiaries of this exploitation get to launder their guilt through the public-facing punching bags of customer service representatives. too many people work at the office factory. there are a lot of industries that need to be massively curtailed if not outright destroyed, a fact that intersects with the threat of climate change when you include coal and oil jobs. it's not enough to get rid of these positions, you also have to have a plan for those displaced workers-- hence the job training program i mentioned before. if we actually want to see a transition into a more egalitarian society that doesn't run exclusively on fossil fuels, then there needs to be a pipeline that gives purpose to the people whose lives will inevitably be radically altered by the kinds of changes we're talking about. there's an important thing, actually-- we all need to be prepared for this line of questioning and have a good answer in the back pocket. there is no shift from pure capitalism to even lite democratic socialism that won't hurt some cohort of people that doesn't deserve it. unless you want them to fall in with the fascists, you're gonna want to have a plan for how to integrate them into the world you're trying to build.

here's a wildcard for you. a lot of folks are on that "break up the monopolies" grind these days, and i appreciate the sentiment. i also think we would be vastly better served in the long run by simply nationalizing the monopolies. obviously there are plenty of worthwhile concerns to be had about any usamerican government gaining that kind of control over anything at this precise moment, but we cannot let that impede the horizons of our imaginary. i don't want market reform, i want the abolition of markets. the internet should be a public utility and ISPs should be government institutions. tech needs UNENDING regulation as we are all aware. social media should be public and interoperable. there needs to be a rolling back of internet surveillance. i've been toying with the idea of a Federal Department of Digital Moderation as an intervention on the current fascist radicalization pipeline that is social media, but that raises so many other concerns that i don't have an answer for. mostly i just think that the profit motive needs to be excised from as many sectors of public life as possible, and nationalization is a pretty good way to get there.

affordable housing! lower rents means fewer hours at work to make ends meet means more time to spend with family & community means more chances for more people to participate in civic action. abolish student debt and make college free! and make it illegal for colleges to invest in shit like fucking israel! a more accessible system of higher education means a more educated proletariat. this wouldn't by any stretch automatically lead to a more leftist proletariat, but conservatives have worked very hard to curtail access to higher education and that alone is more than enough reason to push for it. i've really buried the lede here, honestly. to my mind, medicare for all, mass public transit, free education, and national rent control are THE milestones we ought to be aiming for in terms of domestic policy. it is simply impossible to estimate how seismically and immediately these four policies (if applied equitably and without means-testing) could transform civic life in the USA. any systemic social ill you can name has some connection to one of these four ideas. i personally hold prison abolition & police defunding as equally essential, but these are unfortunately a MUCH harder sell for a lot of folks and will require some solidaristic frog-boiling from the likeable progressives/socialists of the world to naturalize the idea. but then, on that front i'm speaking very much outside my lane, and would defer to the wisdom of actual abolition activists in a scenario where we were talking concrete policy.

then there's foreign policy. this post has gone on a long time and i'm not the person to talk about this at length, but: the united states military needs to be defunded, and its outposts across the world removed. to curtail global climate change, the american imperial project must end. our meddling in foreign affairs is directly responsible for the domination of capital, and so long as this and other western states exist as they do, no communist outpost is safe. then there comes the question of reparations. all those billionaires didn't invent their money, they stole it. in quite a lot of cases they stole it from US citizens, but they've stolen far more from the rest of the world. tax the rich at 99% and distribute billions no-strings-attached to african and pacific island nations? other countries deserve a right to self determination without the threat of foreign interference. our nation's wealth doesn't just need to be taxed and redistributed to working class usamericans (particularly black communities), it ought to be redistributed internationally to all the countries we've fucked with over the last century and a half. but that's a pretty late stage pipe dream.

i guess the last thing that i've been thinking a lot about is more esoteric, and certainly difficult to implement. i believe we need to seriously interrogate "progress" as a concept. right now our society is defined by technological advancements as encouraged by a capitalist economy. if you fuck around with old analog tech at all, you've probably said to yourself more than once "they really don't make em like this anymore." i think about that fucking Hot Ones interview with matt damon about how streaming has stabbed the established profit model in the heart, where he says something like "we had a pretty good thing going before they showed up." i think about small museums closing down in the pandemic because they couldn't turn a profit, small local shops closing down for the same reason. constant newness paired with engineered obsolescence. disruption of the equilibrium in order to steal profit. it's easy to argue that socialized healthcare is good because it's actually more cost efficient than private healthcare. but those are the terms set by capitalists. i believe that healthcare and profit-seeking should be mutually exclusive. i believe that some things are a public good, however small --museums, quirky shops, parks, art spaces, open lots, movies, music, theater, whatever-- and that these things should be protected from the market at all costs. the alternative is corporate consolidation of everything, as every piece of local color cannot compete with economies of scale and asphyxiates to death. i refuse to accept the idea that "progress" means throwing away anyone who specialized in the thing being progressed beyond. i refuse to accept the idea that "progress" is linear and exists beyond the purview of morals, values, and ideology, nor indeed that it is inevitable and in any event an unalloyed good.

i believe that it doesn't matter if making higher-quality clothes at greater cost in unionized factories is "less efficient" than fast fashion. all "efficiency" means is spread everything as thin as possible, just enough just on time regardless of context. it's a mask for robber baron bullshit. it's an attempt by the bourgeoisie to naturalize the laws of economics as if they were on the same level as the laws of gravity, and we just can't accept that anymore. there's that meme, "i want shorter games with worse graphics made by people who are paid more to work less and i’m not kidding." i think we ought to apply that sentiment far more broadly. if we truly believe in the dignity of a self-determined life, then we must agree that some things are above profit, above efficiency, and are worth doing right. i haven't quite nailed down yet how exactly to verbalize this idea in a way that can be easily & quickly understood. but i feel it intensely, and only moreso as time goes on. as we push for these seemingly-impossible policy changes, it's of equal importance that we not lose ourselves to the limitations of the system as it exists under capitalism. to transform the world we must transform ourselves. to save the world we must save ourselves. if we hold a value to be true, then it must be constant and uncompromising. we must agree that our lives are better off when certain things exist even if they aren't efficient or fail to turn a profit, and thus decimate whatever part of us has been raised to believe that efficiency and profit ought ever to enter the equation. of course, in any revolution costs quickly become a huge going concern. there will always be painful compromises in policy along the path, always disappointments and mistakes. no revolution can be perfect. but through all these material challenges, the world that must be needs a place at the table with us. impractical, impossible, unfeasible... necessary.

you will probably not live to see that world, anon, and neither will i. we are all in the long game now, and it can never stop with one good policy, one good politician, one needed win. it's everything or it's nothing. socialism or barbarism. it is this belief which guides me, that no one ought to suffer the indignities i've suffered in my years working for shit wages, struggling to find housing, watching family die from economic abandonment. that there is simply no reason for society to be the way that it is, and that "the world isn't fair" is no excuse when we are the engineers of that "world" in every way that matters.

anyway, those are some of my thoughts on the subject. i hope i haven't made a complete fool of myself here.

[skinnypaleangryperson]

Feeling strange because I'm pretty sure that the next time I sit down to write and work on my stories tomorrow I'm officially going to be done with my 20 million plus or narrative of the BoJack Horseman fanfiction I started writing I think 3 years ago and worked on everyday since, which has been the biggest and most complex spiritual profound in a journey that I think I've ever gone on in my entire life, and I've never discovered so much about myself neither as a creative or as a person until I started writing it after the experience BoJack has a character gave me.

It's strange because an American society if you're just a nobody that's creating things, especially fanfiction, people will either ignore you or insult you, and that goes for literally every platform in existence with no relief from it. I know that the story that I've created will never receive anything but apathy from every person and every community that will ever exist have best, and it deranged morbid insults at worst as has been the case with the entirety of the journey of writing this.

But I'm so happy, and I'm more content and more confident and fulfilled within myself and I've ever been in my entire life, despite the fact that I also feel like I've completely lost my mind from the individuality that I've learned and from the experiences I've had solely from my creativity and the extensions of the worlds I've created.

I know I'm not the only person on here that's creating entire worlds and emotions and feelings only to be completely ignored. It's just the way that things are. I feel like I'm living a completely split identity, one for the people around me (both for real life and online communities), and one for the person that I actually am going the person that I wish that I could be if people cared about it or if people were wired to care about something other than what they've been molded to only care about within the superficiality of the way that people think and are. This goes for both real life and online life, there's no difference, and I'm literally forced to put on a performance between the person that I actually am, a profoundly passionate storyteller, and the person that realizes that those things don't matter to literally anyone on this earth, and having to be able to accept putting on the performance of person people will ever respond to.

It's a profoundly lonely existence, to be a genuine creative person and to write and to create every single day, to have profoundly complex interimagined experiences that cannot be found in officially published consumption. But as lonely and as disorienting as it is I wouldn't trade the experience for anything. Not a single thing. Finding my own inner voice as a creative has changed everything about the way that I view the world and how I navigate the day-to-day life of myself and the people around me. The blackest part about it is that I've developed a disdain for 99% of people because I've realized that they were never care about the true genuine imagination in of who I actually am and I will be forced to put on a mask if I ever want a relationship or a sense of community with anyone, and I'm looking at a very dull disorienting performance of an existence to appease my need for human connection even if it's only fake tolerance at best.

But I can't change the way that people think. I certainly can't change the way that the only respond to things that are officially published for them to consume that they are assumed the only things that are worth paying attention to. If my own family cares more about celebrities and TV shows more than they care about their own daughter's projects, of course I can ever expect a partner, friends, or a community to ever care.

I'll always have my muses themselves, and the profound in our life in and of itself of an experienced, and I will continue to live an entire world that is apparently only for me, that will only exist, as the entirety of my existence has really only been experienced by me in all of its resounding complexity, and magic, and experience and will continue to be so. I will continue to see what nobody else sees, and I will continue to have a rich life for it.

Congratulations to Bojack And His Wife being completed, a 20 million word romantic fantasy philosophical narrative.

[destiny-in-the-universe]

Pride Headcanons

It’s June 1, y’all which means I can write about my silly little blorbos being under the rainbow all I want! Not that the headcanons were somehow different before hahaha but anyway!

I’m going to be using the Secret Quartet because I can- and honestly they are my biggest comfort and hyperfixation right now, so why wouldn’t I write with them?

Danny Phantom;

👻 Danny is trans. I mean look at him- but no, this just fits with his character. Honestly I could talk about this in a completely separate post but genuinely he would be FtM

👻 In canon, he seems to prefer women more than men, but Danny is somewhere in the non-het umbrella. He gives me pan vibes, like it’s genuinely the last thing he cares about and it’s more about chemistry than anything else

👻 Danny’s parents are 100% supportive if he ever chose to come out. There is no homophobia in this household, you cannot convince me otherwise

👻 Overall, Amity Park is accepting. In no universe would they ever turn someone away for being not-cishet

👻 Danny used to bind using ace bandages and completely forget he was wearing them- based on an old comic I found, I like to imagine that if Vlad were to find out, he would immediately pay for Danny to at least have a comfortable binder. You also cannot tell me he wouldn’t try to offer paying for Danny’s bottom surgery (with a price of course)

👻 None of the ghosts would ever deadname Danny. Ever. Not even Dash would-

👻 Much like Danny, Jazz is definitely non-het; she’s bisexual- gender is the least of her concerns when it canes to romance, but she also seems to be a bit more sapphic leaning. I said what I said /lh

👻 Danny would never forget someone’s preferred name. He makes it an entire point to remember them and use it correctly- let alone pronouns

American Dragon: Jake Long;

🐲 Jake is cis- i don’t see him as being anything other than cisgender unfortunately but he’s an ally and I will stand by this until I disappear from this earth-

🐲 He doesn’t really care for labels and will never use them, but Jake isn’t exactly heterosexual. Gender is the last thing on his mind when he’s dating, but he’s only really dated Rose so I think he’s ever so slightly confused at the moment on his preferences

🐲 Jake would attend Pride. 100%

🐲 If Jake ever came out to his family, they would 100% be understanding- they’re many things but assholes isn’t one of them. They would likely sit him down and make sure to know how to most make him feel comfortable but other than that, neither Jonathan nor Susan would ever make Jake unhappy

I honestly don’t have as many headcanons for American Dragon, but- this is the best I could come up with!

Miraculous Ladybug;

🐞 Marinette is more than likely cisgender- she’s still an ally; that would never change. She makes sure to protect trans folk and everyone in between

🐞 I like to think Marinette doesn’t care for labels, and just dates depending on personality and compatibility than attempting to assess it on gender

🐞 She would never forget someone’s pronouns or preferred name. Sometimes there are accidental slip-ups because, well- it’s Marinette with ADHD (I will talk neurodivergent headcanons in a separate post) but she always apologizes if she messes up!

🐞 Marinette has attended Pride events as both her civilian persona and heroine identity to help support those who need it- this is canon now

🐈‍⬛ Adrien is trans. This is not up for negotiation (/lh). There is just something about him that screams trans

🐈‍⬛ He has no idea if he likes men, women, both or anything in between. Adrien is a little bit sheltered, give him time he’ll come around

🐈‍⬛ Honestly, Adrien would be an ally first before realizing he’s trans or non-het. He would be allowed to attend Pride events because Gabriel isn’t that much of a horrible person- at least not with Pride. Gabriel is not the type, in this essay I will-

🐈‍⬛ Adrien finds being Chat Noir completely freeing- it’s almost like binding in a way,

🐈‍⬛ Adrien was given his first binder buy Nino. He eventually received a second one from Marinette, and he cherishes both dearly- but sometimes he forgets to take them off

Randy Cunningham: 9th Grade Ninja;

🧣Randy is trans-coded. I can’t explain why, but there is no way that boy is cis- (Howard likely knew before he did, I was there obviously. I was uh, Randy’s coat /lh)

🧣He’s unlabeled when it comes to sexuality and romantic orientation. Randy doesn’t know because he has only ever crushed on girls so far but he also keeps smiling like an idiot at Howard and gets ridiculously flustered. He doesn’t know what to make of it-

🧣Randy has never attended a Pride event- at least not yet. He hopes to one day

🧣Randy binds- he does use a binder as Howard actually bought one for him as a birthday present; before that he used to wear ace bandages which wasn’t ideal in the slightest but he was dealing with horrible dysphoria at the time and didn’t want to accept he was only a kid

🧣Being the Ninja somehow helps him cope with his dysphoria

🥷 Finja- is he cishet? Hahahah no, absolutely not. Cis? Maybe. Heterosexual? This man gives asexual vibes! This is canon now ~ a fellow ace

🥷 I don’t think Finja would have used labels in his youth. Especially if it wasn’t entirely the norm back then but if he were in present times- he might’ve, though I think he would just vibe

🥷 Finja honestly might be on the aromantic spectrum, but more so demiromantic or grayaromantic than not dating at all!

🥷 Oh you can bet Finja would be completely accepting of Randy being trans

(author’s cut: more will be written for Finja later! I simply have words stuck in my brain that won’t fully come out!)

📕Nomicon - or “Nomi” - is agender! They do not associate themself with a gender and use literally any pronoun- including neopronouns

📕Nomi would be completely accepting of gender and sexuality- and anything in between- they are completely supportive of Randy coming out

📕Nomi is however, asexual! I do think Nomi would be aroace but you can headcanon whatever you want- though when you’re a centuries old sentient book, well, things change

📕If Nomi was human, they would 100% be attending Pride- this is not up for debate. They would

📕Nomi is fiercely protective of Randy- in my human AU’s, it is 100% guaranteed anyone who displayed transphobia or any other form of bigotry toward him would immediately be roundhouse kicked in the face

📕Human! Nomi would give zero fucks and decide to wear dresses- but honestly, they wear outfits that reference the book version of herself. They wear whatever the hell they want, do not care in the slightest

Additional Headcanons;

Howard doesn’t openly seem to care about Pride because he’s a stubborn little shit, but everyone knows better than to mess with Randy- because those who do are met with a fiercely protective, homosexual totally-cis Howard Weinerman

Whatever the fuck McFist and Viceroy have going on isn’t straight-

McFist would host Pride themed events specifically during June and seemingly forget about it for the rest of the year- does he do this to be homophobic? Nope! He just genuinely doesn’t flaunt being not straight that he also isn’t aware of

Viceroy is bi. This is not up for negotiation

Mort is straight but completely supports his children in whatever they want to do with their life

Sam Manson is completely unlabeled. She doesn’t care

Tucker? You can’t tell me that boy is cis

Alya makes blogs in support of Pride and does make them year-round because she is an ally and I will stand by this until the day I cease to exist (which is never)

Gabriel does do Pride events but much like McFist, he doesn’t them 24/7 or year-round- the only difference is I’m pretty sure Gabriel’s cishet

I can’t think of anything else tbh! Enjoy the mess that is these headcanons-

[overleftdown]

angsty farleigh start blurb

hello hi fanfiction! mostly character study with a lot of sad hehehah. what else would one expect from me!

There are things that Farliegh took for granted. 3 months after leaving Saltburn, he realizes that money isn't really one of them.

Instead, he finds himself folded over a mug of lukewarm coffee at 2am, staring down a collection of postcards mounted on the far wall of his local diner. He had just finished working a double, unwilling to decline an offer that would bump both his pay and reputation. Farleigh has 8 hours until his next shift. He's staring at a postcard from Greece, a name hastily penned onto the front; the edges are worn, and the corners bent. He's wondering what's written on the side pressed to the yellowing popcorn walls. Almost absentmindedly, he lifts the rim of his mug to his lips and thinks, I wish I told them how much I wanted to see Mykonos. The coffee is bitter.

It becomes a constant, after that. Walking through the American snack isle and passing his favorite cereal brand, thinking I wish I had told them how good Reece's Puffs were. Catching the eye of a boy around his age with a piercing through his left nostril, thinking I wish I told Felix to get that one. Going, alone, to a movie theater and thinking I wish I told Venetia that I loved Rocky Horror Picture Show. On and on it went. 

I wish I told them I saw the Grand Canyon, and that it was so gorgeous I lost my breath. I wish I told them that I always preferred white wine over red. I wish I told them that my silk bedding was so my hair wouldn't dry out, tangle, or tear. I wish I told them about the friendship bracelets I once made for us; that I kept all three in a box under my bed. I wish I told them I was scared of being insignificant.  I wish I told them that I missed my mom and dad, that I'm farther from myself every day, that I might hate myself despite my arrogance. 

Farleigh has spent his life hiding. There were dinner party invites that didn't extend to his father, yet somehow included him. Farleigh remembers sitting secluded, for once wishing he kept his hair short. Older women who wanted so badly to be young, gravitating towards him with greetings like "You're Frederica's son! I always wondered what you'd look like. I never expected a handsome young man like yourself." And the men; rough yet unworn hands that sometimes gripped the nape of his neck. "You're unique, Farleigh. It's hard to find someone who looks quite like you. You're maturing quickly." On and on it went. Despite the itching, Farleigh never cut his hair short. The Cattons would ask him why he insisted on such messiness, contrary his otherwise sharp fashion. Silk pillowcases. Five shampoo bottles, an array of hair creams--all kept out of eyesight. Better to let them believe his hair was a casual affair, and intentionally so.

The cocaine had been the least of his hidings (and look where that landed him). People are always sequestering the sunburnt, raw-rubbed, defective pieces of themselves. The things they so desperately clung to, bad habits like a bright red blemish on a ledger, or a lifeline. The first time Farleigh saw the inside of a teacher's lounge had been 30 minutes past the final bell, with a head of tangled hair that he had styled perfectly just 7 hours ago. He remembers accepting the offered cup of tea and thinking Felix won't notice I'm gone. He had told Felix what he did that evening, anyways. This, Farleigh had never thought to hide. Better not to. Better to tell Felix, who was so prone to flippancy, that he would do anything for a good grade. 

"What, you're that shit at school, mate? Jesus. You better not tell anyone; you'd get ousted in days." Felix had said, a painful looking blush to his face. They had only been 16, after all. "I mean, seriously! I never took you for a pillock." At that, Farleigh had raised his eyebrows skeptically. There are some things that were abundantly clear. Uncle James had insisted that Farleigh required a higher education than whatever American dumpster he would be learning his times tables in, and the rest of the Cattons had quickly glued themselves to the idea. They liked to think that they were saving him from stupidity.

In the end, it had been Felix who told someone Farleigh's secret. Namely, his new friend that had been sitting in Farleigh's seat for the last 2 weeks. After countless meetings and scoldings, and significant attempts to publicly humiliate him, Farleigh was sent back to Saltburn before his transfer. When Elspeth and James asked, frantically, what Farleigh had been thinking, he had told them that he needed a better grade. They'd just have to try harder to save him. In truth, there were some things that never really went away, like a teachers lounge and a fresh cup of tea. Something secret, something just for him.

The things that Farleigh insisted on hiding were good things, already half-stained by the bad. A family photo album inside of a shoebox inside of a pillowcase inside of a duffel bag under his bed, next to the ornate little chest where he obviously kept his drugs. Photo strips, polaroids from New York City, his mom's peach scented powder blush, his dad's discarded tie clip. If you keep what really matters just far enough to the side of what people consider a secret, they'll never look any harder. Farleigh has always believed that your worst mistakes only marginally define your humanity. Really, it's what someone loves, isn't it? It's who they would change for. It's who they would make bracelets for. 

Back to the diner, back to the present, back to a time and place where nobody really cared to distinguish a secret from a statement. Back to the postcard from Greece that Farleigh wants to rip off the wall, just to read what is obscured. Saltburn was so large of a life that it was impossibly surreal, too many millions of dollars past tangibility. Whatever was written on that postcard was touchable. A small piece of an even smaller existence. Farleigh was terrified of what it meant to be alive. To stash pieces of himself in dark places like stowaways on the Titanic. To carry what was left after the rest capsized.  

I wish I'd given them those bracelets. I made them so they'd think of me, even when I wasn't there. 

[biggest-stupidhead]

Like Real People Do

Photo creds to Pintrest (@katiasbff)

AN: I literally cannot get Wanda out of my head, and I recently saw a tik tok pointing out that Vision had to leave Wanda alone for extended periods of time. Which in turn got me thinking about what she did with her alone time...So here you go :)

Summary: Wanda gets lonely when Vision has to leave her in Scotland, so she tries to find some solace in a dreary cafe.

Word Count: 2.1K

Warnings: mostly fluff and a little bit of angst obvi

It was a dreary day in Scotland, as most days tended to be. Wanda had hated the gloomy spring weather, the stubborn moisture that seemed to hang in the air. She couldn’t open the small bed & breakfast window due to the dampness, which only made her bedroom stuffier. She had only been at the B&B for three days without Vision, but it felt so much longer. Wanda felt like a ghost, roaming through the streets aimlessly, only to return back to her small room to pace there. If she sat alone with her thoughts for too long, all she could think about was the mess her life was.

It was suffocating, the weight of reality was hitting her hard in her solitude. Wanda wanted nothing more than to sink into the floor and disappear. She’d had enough, tired of her own company, she set out for her morning stroll with no particular destination. Wanda allowed her feet to carry her down familiar streets as she tried to focus on the present instead of painful memories. The sun was only just rising by the time she found herself in unfamiliar territory. The buildings around her were an odd collage of businesses and restaurants. A small cafe caught her eye amongst the squat buildings.

It was dimly lit, with dark green paint coating the walls, making the space gloomier. Music played softly in the background, and the seating was mismatched tables and chairs with a few booths tucked away in the back. Lamps were situated in a few corners, serving as lighting as opposed to ceiling lights. The barista was preoccupied, scrolling through her phone, her acrylic nails clicking against the screen. Wanda nearly turned heel and left, craving something warmer, more inviting. But before she could her eyes landed on you, sitting in the far corner, just below an eccentric lamp. Her head cocked to the side as she took you in. You were the lone patron in the cafe, tucked way into the back sporting a pair of reading glasses that reflected the warm glow of the lamp above you. A steaming mug sat in front of you as you squinted at a slew of papers and scribbled on them with a pen. 

Her pause was long enough for the barista to clear her throat expectantly. Wanda jolted in surprise, the vocalization only just loud enough to be heard over the soft music. The woman behind the counter raised a slitted brow, popping her gum with a loud snap. Wanda shot you one last glance before slowly stepping up to the counter. 

“I’ll have a lavender latte with almond milk please.” She reached into her pocket and produced a small leather wallet and retrieved some cash to pay. The barista didn’t bother to hide her disgust when she heard Wanda’s voice, it was something she had gotten used to by now. She wasn’t very good at masking her Sokovian accent, even worse at hiding the slight American accent she had adopted since joining the Avengers. 

“Americans,” The grungy college student grumbled as she accepted the cash, closing the register a bit aggressively. Wanda stepped back but kept a watchful eye on the barista as she prepared her drink, fearful that she would spit in her latte if she turned her back. However, she couldn’t help but let her eyes wander over to you occasionally, she felt this gnawing curiosity as she stared at you. 

“Here, go sit with your fellow scum bag.” The girl slid Wanda’s drink down the counter and Wanda snagged it. Her brows furrowed in confusion, unsure of what the barista meant and how she wanted to deal with the blatant disrespect. 

“Excuse me?” She asked, mounting frustration beginning to cloud her mind. The barista nodded at you in the back, brushing her dyed hair out of her face. 

“That one back there if a fellow American, I figure you’d feel more at home.” The barista’s voice was coated with sarcasm but Wanda still felt some relief. That was until your eyes lifted from your papers to shoot a glare at the barista. 

“Cut it out Gwen” You barely rose your voice, clearly you frequented this place. Wanda went rigid as your eyes found her, even from this distance she saw the not-so-subtle up and down you gave her. She wasn’t sure what to make of it, the slowness felt intimidating but your body language was anything but. You seemed loose and almost inviting, but maybe that was Wanda’s loneliness shining through. 

“Go on, she doesn’t bite.” Gwen shooed Wanda towards the back, towards you. She felt torn now, on one hand, you seemed expectant, watching her keenly. On the other hand, she desperately didn’t want to bother you, and she wasn’t sure she could carry on a conversation. 

“Gwen, leave her alone for the love of God.” You sounded exasperated, dropping your pen you gave Gwen a scathing look, gesturing for Wanda to come over. Panic set in as Wanda forced her feet to carry her towards you, throwing one last look at the door before she stood in front of your booth. You had gathered most of your papers, tucking them off to the side. Wanda hesitated before sitting down and you smiled at her warmly, taking off your glasses and placing them on the table softly. 

“Gwen is right about one thing, I don’t bite.” You laughed and it seemed to warm the room by ten degrees. Wanda shifted, wrapping her hands around her mug and smiling into the frothy coffee. 

“Lucky me,” Wanda said in return, her eyes fluttering from the boring rim of her mug to your face. Your lips curved into a broad smile, showing off pearly white teeth. 

“Yes, well maybe lucky me! It’s been a while since I’ve had company.” You were still smiling as you leaned forwards eagerly, but Wanda noticed a slight cringe cross your features. 

“That sounded sad.” You laughed and Wanda laughed with you, her chest constricting with an odd tightness. 

“No, I totally relate.” Wanda smoothed her hands over her jeans, her trimmed nails scratching at the denim. 

“So, what are you in Scotland for?” You asked, eagerly and Wanda felt her stomach sink. 

“Work.” She said vaguely, sipping her latte so she wouldn’t have to add anything, despite it still being too hot. 

“Ah me too, I’m a teacher. Hence all the papers…” You waved your wrist at the papers stacked haphazardly, some of them nearly slipping off the table as you did so. You scrambled to catch them, tucking them back into the pile. 

“Oh, a teacher that’s wonderful!” Wanda gushed honestly, and you sighed with a roll of your eyes. 

“It can be, but it’s also hell.” You sighed and Wanda nodded in understanding, but she felt something else stirring inside her. A feeling that she certainly hadn’t expected when she stepped into this conversation. 

Jealousy. 

“I’m sure.” Wanda managed to spit the words out past the rim of her mug. She wasn’t sure how well she hid her slight malice. But in true American fashion, you brushed it off if you had noticed and carried on. 

“And what do you do?” You asked as you slowly put your glasses back on, waiting patiently for Wanda to swallow her drink. Wanda cleared her throat, trying to buy herself some time to no avail. 

“Uh, I….am a journalist.” Wanda patted herself on the back for the quick thinking, feeling a small spark of joy as you sighed. 

“I envy you.” You pointed at Wanda playfully and she laughed as you shook your stack of papers. 

“It’s not as glamorous as it seems.” Wanda fought off the last few giggles to get her words out. You smiled and shook your head softly muttering something under your breath. 

“Do you mind if I do some work while we talk?” You asked, and Wanda shook her head. 

“No, of course not, I interrupted you! I can always go.” Wanda nearly jumped out of the booth but you yelped. 

“Oh no, you can stay if you want!” You grabbed your pen and began flipping through your messy pile. Wanda settled back into her seat, trying to maintain her composure. 

“Ok, I won’t leave you then.” She meant it to sound light, but it came out all too sincere. Again, Wanda blamed her inner conscious, regurgitating exactly what she wanted to hear from someone. You looked up from your work, your eyes shined behind your glasses, and a shocked look plastered to your face. 

“Well, if you insist.” You cleared your throat, quickly diving into your work. Your flustered state didn’t escape Wanda, who bit her lip as she pretended to busy herself on her phone. The comforting sound of your pen scratching the paper filled the silence between the two of you. Wanda tried not to stare as you graded your papers, but it was difficult not to. You worked so effortlessly, ticking off one question after the next. Your glasses would slide down your nose and you would diligently push them back into place. Your hair was slipping from the clip that was holding it off your face, and for some reason, the ghastly lamplight made you look so….golden. 

Wanda sat with you in silence for quite some time. You seemed perfectly content with her boring company as you hummed quietly to yourself or grumbled in frustration at the work on the page. Very few patrons dared to come into the cafe, leaving Gwen free to text. Not to say that she wouldn’t touch her phone while taking an order. It was the domesticity that Wanda had been craving, no yearning for. So little was said, and nothing needed to be said. The three of you simply existed, blissfully unaware of whose company you were currently in. 

While this entire interaction was unexpected and pleasant, Wanda still found that jealousy and sadness mixed in her chest. It was a rather unsavory cocktail of emotions and she wished that she could be as carefree as you seemed to be. It had been a full hour before you finished, sighing as you pushed the papers back into a folder, which you shoved into your bag. 

“Good God, I need a drink.” You groaned, stretching your legs and arms while still sitting. Wanda laughed, looking towards Gwen who smirked back. 

“Hey, at least one of us was productive today,” Wanda mumbled as you collected your things, dreading the moment you stood up to leave. You groaned and stood slowly, and Wanda reluctantly did the same. 

“Much to my displeasure.” You quipped as you adjusted your bag on your shoulders. 

“And mine too, I hope that we’ll run into one another again,” Wanda said, once again trying to put a joking tone into her voice, only to come out more serious than intended. You smiled back at her and dug your phone out of your pocket, a grin stuck to your lips as you produced a blank contact page.

"Well thank god for technology then. Here put your information in and we can grab coffee whenever you'd like!" Wanda felt her heart clench in her chest as you passed the phone to her.

She took it with clammy hands, knowing full well that she couldn’t give you her real phone number, that she couldn’t rope you into her messy lifestyle. So she made up a phone number, and she put a small smiley face next to her name. Wanda handed your phone back to you as a rock sank into the pit of her stomach. You beamed at her and pointed at her name on your screen. 

“Wanda.” Her name rolled off of your tongue and Wanda nearly leaped out of her skin. It came as a sudden realization, that was the first time you had said her name. 

“Nearly two whole bloody hours spent together and not once did you idiots exchange names!” Gwen was leaning on the countertop, smacking her palm against it as she howled with laughter. You smiled sheepishly at Wanda, who could feel the redness creeping up her neck and tainting her cheeks. 

“Oh my god.” She buried her face in her hands and groaned as you threw your head back and joined Gwen, bubbly laughter bouncing off the walls. 

“I am so rude! I cannot believe-” 

“It’s fine! I noticed way too late, it would’ve been…awkward to ask once I realized.” You said through a fit of giggles. Wanda groaned and shook her head as she raked a hand through her hair.

"W-What is your name?" Wanda asked as she used both of her hands to pull her hair back off of her heated cheeks. You laughed like the good sport you were.

"It's (Y/n)." You told her and shared a look with Gwen who sighed in contentment and disappeared into a back room, leaving the two of you alone. 

“Anyway, I’ll see you around…Wanda.” You winked at her as you slipped past, giving a gentle squeeze of her arm as you passed. Wanda stood dumbstruck as you left, the soft bell on the door announcing your exit. You waved at her one last time as you passed the front windows and Wanda felt that guilt stir inside of her. She swallowed thickly in an attempt to gather herself before she stepped back into the real world. Before she left the comfort of the dreary cafe in Scotland, and before she tried to wipe the memory of you from her head before you could take up permanent residence there.

[anarchoherbalism]

Some things that drive me up the goddamn wall:

Western medicine is not that old. CHARITABLY its like, 400ish years old, but all the most popular ways of defining western medicine (e.g. based on the modern scientific study) really only apply to information-generating and medicine-distribution practices that started in the late 1800s and were codified in THE TWENTIES. Sure, no ideas come out of nowhere and modern western medicine absolutely has a lineage and if you want you could make a good argument for tracing that lineage back to say, Galen. (Side note: american Doctors love to claim Galen when it makes them sound Storied and Dramatic but foist him off on us stupid herbalists as soon as anything controversial by modern standards comes up). But what's a lot more important to think about is that prior to the past hundred years or so, the diversity of actively-practiced, available medical traditions that existed in "the west" was so much greater than it is today, and if you go back another hundred or more years it's bigger and bigger. For most of human history in most parts of the world medicine has been a great, fluid cultural field (like cuisine! or religion! in fact these three subjects overlap quite a bit!!) that becomes forcibly homogenized and codified as part of nation-building. That has happened and is still happening here in the west as empire seeks to homogenize culture, through, yknow, genocide; and minority medical philosophies are deligitimized, criminalized, and culturally persecuted. Indigenous and folk traditions survive in small bubbles of people desperately trying to keep them alive.

Following from #1, the majority of people on the "left" to postleft & whatever recognize, at least nominally, that this is Bad. However, what most white people seem to be doing with the idea that Cultural Extermination Is Bad is grant some kind of nebulous exception status to their nebulous idea of "Indigenous medicine" while otherwise paying lip service to the western medical progress narrative: What "we" do now is so much better than what "we" "used to" do. First of all, "we" here is an incoherent concept unless you want to buy into the idea that dominant western culture (or civilization more broadly) is an inevitable evolution that all cultures will come to, which is uhm. Social darwinism. Second of all, "used to" is just a straight up lie in most cases unless it's very narrowly referring to any number of practices that were codified in like, 1930 by the still-budding medical establishment and have since been discarded by the extant medical establishment. Diverse, Indigenous & folk medical traditions are still fucking around and alive and being used, adapted and added to. Some are holding on by a thread and plenty are very closed practices now out of defensiveness, while others struggle to be known more widely because of medical licensure laws that claim to be about "safety" but were always about stamping out minority medical traditions. What a lot of motherfuckers miss is that when the western medical establishment tells the story about how everything is so much better now and we know the right way to be, they are telling the same story I told under heading one. The nonviolent story of progress that "we" just "discovered" "new ideas" is conveniently shuffling around the genocide and criminalization that are STILL actively trying to stamp out the """"old"""" ideas.

Does all of this mean that we should just willy nilly accept/use/treat as valid every single thought anyone has ever had about medicine? Fuck no! People have bad ideas sometimes! Medical traditions are LIVING traditions for good reasons. It just means that I wish people would sit down and THINK for a second before making a claim about non-western or historical medical traditions, ask themselves "is my only source for this claim the current western medical establishment?", and if "yes", spend any amount of time trying to find an alternate perspective. If you can't find any source that isn't affiliated with genocide and forced cultural assimilation on the practice you want to talk shit about, ask yourself "why isn't there a proponent of this practice around to defend it?" and like, go from there.

I truly do not care what medical philosophy any given individual person feels most comfortable using for themselves. Your reasons for preferring western medicine might very well be rooted in shit i disagree with/find abhorrent, I might think you could be happier (or more likely to survive climate collapse) if you were at all open to any strategy other than the one that's entirely dependent on empire and extraction, but I am frankly too tired and too busy to be remotely invested in what people I don't know are doing with their bodies. What frustrates me is how little critical thinking is being done when it comes to medicine, how comfortable everyone seems to be with incoherent cognitive dissonance when it comes to criticizing specific instances of oppression/nationalism/racism/etc in western medicine but still buy the overall narrative in a way that renders those critiques superficial, and how successful the project of western medical nationalism has been at claiming a monopoly on the story.

[0and0its0doctor0]

Date Night

David Rossi x OFC Slightly NC-17 Warnings: Heavy kissing, light touching, no actual smut Summary: Bella is new to the FBI and literally runs into David Rossi who she happens to have a massive crush on. He takes her out to dinner and they wind up on his couch.

Word Count: 946

“I mean who would ever want to be with me? Especially someone like David Rossi? I doubt he even knows I exist.” Bella tried explaining to Penelope. She was fresh out of the academy chasing her fathers coattails while trying to pave her own way and David Rossi was well…David Rossi. Bella was just a paper pusher with hopes and dreams of joining the BAU. Thankfully she was weird like Penelope so she quickly became her new best friend. Bella sighed deeply and left her office to get back to work. When she got back to her desk she groaned. Her paperwork pile had doubled during her lunch break. She quickly shuffled through them and knew she needed to make photocopies. Gathering them up she made her way to the file room only to find the copier broken. ‘Use BAU copier.’ The sign said. She frowned but made her way to the next floor up. 

Bella had her hands full and turned a corner cursing as she collided with someone. Paperwork scattered across the floor and she landed on her ass. “You okay kitten?” Oh shit. She knew that voice. She looked up to see David Rossi looking down at her. “I’m so sorry Mr. Rossi. I wasn’t paying attention and I just am not as graceful as I used to be.” She was rambling as she got on her hands and knees to pick up the scattered papers. “No it’s okay it was entirely my fault.” David said, helping her pick up papers. Once she was done she looked up at him while still on her knees, batting her eyelashes. He bit his lip and cleared his throat causing her to blush. “Need a hand kitten?” He asked, holding out a hand helping her up. “It’s Bella. I mean I don’t mind if you call me kitten. But my name is Bella.” She said tucking back a red curl. “I know who you are. Arabella Montgomery. Fresh out of the academy. You help put together our finished files after cases.” He said, causing her to blush. David Rossi actually knew who she was. “I worked with your dad a few times. I was sorry to hear about his accident.” He said, still holding her hand after helping her up. She deflated a little when he brought up her dad. “Would you like to join me for dinner tonight? Fizolies. 8pm.” He asked and she nodded. “See you later kitten.” He said with a smirk and a wink and she quickly ran to tell Penelope what happened.

Bella sighed as she picked at her little black dress and nervously looked at her phone. 825. She frowned and sipped at her wine. She would give it a couple more minutes before accepting the fact she got stood up. Who was she kidding? No one liked her. Especially someone as special as David Rossi. She was about to get the check when the chair across from her pulled out and a handsome man in a suit sat down. “Sorry kitten. Got a case file dropped off right as I was leaving and had to get the team. Looks like we are going to New York tomorrow.” He said ordering himself some wine. “Oh. I’m originally from New York.” She said, sipping at her glass. “What brought you out here?” He asked, sitting back. “Well I had been a ballerina since I took my first steps. I was a ballerina with the American Ballet Company then one performance of Romeo and Juliet…I was Juliet…I blew out my knee. I can no longer dance so I decided to take after my dad.” She explained with a bit of a frown. “Your dad would be proud of the Agent you are becoming.” David said with a reassuring smile. “Just wish he would have lived long enough to see me graduate. Now I’m just a paper pusher.” She said with a bit of a frown as she shrugged her shoulders. 

Bella and David both drank a substantial amount of wine. “I’m only 5 minutes away from here.” He had his hands wrapped around her waist and was brushing his lips against the curve of her neck. “Wanna come over?” He asked and she quickly nodded. David flagged down a taxi and once inside his hands were all over her. But she definitely didn’t mind. Once they arrived at his house she giggled as his beard kept tickling the sensitive skin of her neck. He paused from kissing her just long enough to unlock the door and push her inside. Once inside he quickly shed his jacket and pushed her onto the couch. He pulled off his tie and climbed on top of her biting and kissing along her neck and collar bone. She moaned, tilting her head back to give him more access to her pale skin. He left lots of marks she was going to have to explain the following day but she didn't care. She pushed her hips up against his moaning as she felt the bulge in his slacks. “Tell me how far you wanna go.” He whispered breathlessly into her ear. “All the way.” She moaned back as they both quickly started to undress each other.  His hands dipped down and lightly started to trace up her thigh and he swallowed the sounds she was making. "Easy kitten." He said with a grin before dipping down to place kisses between her cleavage. He was devouring the little sounds that she was making as his fingers pushed the fabric of her dress up her legs till it bunched up around her waist. He couldn’t ask for a better night.

[saratravel]

So let's talk about yesterday. It's a loooong story so sit tight.

The day before as I was resting up from finishing up Vilnius sightseeing, I started looking ahead to the next days. I was to pick up a car at 8 but my hotel breakfast started at 8 and I wasn't going to pass up a free meal so I accepted that I'll get to the car around 9.

Pick up car (was going to take public transit but decided it was easier to grab a Bolt), hit up an ATM, go see castles on the way to Kaunas, see an art collection/sightsee in Kaunas to kill time until 3pm check in. Since it's a Sunday, the place I'm renting from isn't in office, but I am told everything is set up for me. This was the part that was worrying me, plus figuring out what to do with me car. There's street parking, I'm told, but the American in me is iffy about public street parking.

I fret. I fret a lot. I sleep only two hours. But there's no way out than through it, so I start my day with my breakfast and head on out. At 8, I paid the remainder of my hotel charge with my card and pay for my Bolt to the car rental.

At the car rental, I pull out my card to pay. No big deal, I've used it twice before. The guy behind the counter looks at the receipt printed in Lithuanian:

"It says the payment is over the limit?"

I freeze "....what? I have not been told about a limit."

We try again, same thing. My phone starts buzzing, informing me of the blocked charges. Usually, either by text or email, I'm able to respond somehow to say no there are valid and try again. There is no such option this time.

The cashier suggests trying to break the sum in two. The first one goes through- great! The second is blocked "the payment is over limit." So we're thinking there may be a daily limit. A daily limit I have never been informed of.

"And it's the middle of the night in the US..." says the cashier.

"I was given a 24hr number, let me go yell at someone."

I call. Robo-call answer, please give your card number to look up.... Sorry, I can't find it, let me connect you to a representative.

I wait 5 minutes. A tired call center representative picks up. "Can you give me your number...." As robotic as the robo-call machine, he says every 30 seconds, "Please wait one moment....."

Until 5 minutes later, finally, "our systems have not been working. I can try to look up your account via social security number as well...."

I explain my situation. I'm in Europe, I'm trying to rent a car.... "I would be happy to help you, but our system is down. Please call again in 1-2 hours after we have re-set the system."

"But I'm stuck here."

"I would be happy to help you, but-"

I begrudgingly thank him and hang up. I ask the cashier if it's possible to pay for the other half with a card number. It's a little embarrassing calling up Mommy to help when you're a 30 year old woman, but I know she would be happy to do all she can. But, it's about 2am where my family is, and midnight where my husband is. No one answers their phones. At a loss, I contact my friend in Norway, where it is about 8 am, to at least have someone to talk through the situation.

At this point, the worst that would really happen is I sit in a car rental waiting area until the Visa servers work. I have about 10 euros cash on me, plenty for meals here. I had eaten a big breakfast, so I wasn't hungry anyway and still had a few back-up snacks. It's a safe area, and I'm right by the airport, so I could probably find a physical exchange booth for the rest of my US cash. It is an inconvenience, but nothing is risking personal harm. I remind myself of this as I continue to problem solve.

Then, my Norwegian friend sends a life raft. He offers to front the other half. I nearly begin to cry. We have been close friends for a decade and both of us have treated the other to airfare (I had gathered money from our friend group to come visit us in America in 2015 and he and another in that group surprised me with tickets to Reykjavik in 2018). I wish I could fully put into words how much I cherish him as a friend. He demands 400 hugs as payment when we meet in Helsinki. I think I can do that (and also pay him back the money, of course).

Once the car is paid, they hand me a key and. I am on my way. It's castle day, so let's drive to the castles and call my bank again. It also happens to be Father's Day in Lithuania so the castle and outer lake area is packed. I find street parking and sacrifice 2,50 euros for an hour of parking. I use some of the time to call Visa back, as it had been about two hours since the first call. The woman who answers explains again that the servers are down but they are definately working on it. Cards have been declined and no one can access accounts, I'm so sorry for the inconvenience.

I explain my situation again.

"Oh, that is not good."

"No.... no, it's not."

"Please call back in 1-2 hours."

".....Okay, thank you."

I get out of my car and start walking to the castle. The original plan was to go inside, maybe take a tour. There are two castles in the area- one on an island and one in a peninsula. I go to the island one and try to clear my mind to enjoy the view. There are boat rentals, souvenir shops, and some interesting peddlers selling knick-knacks such as wooden bird call whistles. It's much easier to walk past when you have no money, though, so I press forward.

Along with the father's day crowd, it's also just very crowded with tourist groups. I take some pictures of the outside and inside (before the ticket booth) and give a quick walk around the outside. Then, I have an idea. A bit of a crazy one, but it may just work.

My itinerary was to do castles and Kaunas sightseeing. The next day was the big driving trip to The Hill of Crosses, roughly 2hr from Kaunas and 2hr to my next accommodations in Kleipeda. It's way out there, but this is one sight I really did not want to miss. Since the car is paid for and has a full tank of gas, and the Hill of Crosses is free to see, I would likely not need to use my card for hours. It's a 2.5 hour drive from where I was.... that should give Visa plenty of time to sort their shit out.

And this is the nice thing about solo travel. I don't need to confirm this plan with anyone else. I don't need to worry about another person's needs. Don't need to do restroom stops or food runs for anyone but me. And I grew up running up and down I35 in Texas for hours, so I'm more than ready for a spontaneous trip. I can assess myself, balance my resources, and do what I need to do for no one else but me. I hop back in my car and set off....

That's all for this post, it all resolved in the end and I have cash and can use my card again! But I need to start my day so I'll post more about the drive and The Hill of Crosses later.

[medusapelagia]

25 Au-gust: Joker (Western)

Rating: Mature Relationship: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson WT: mention of violence, mention of raping, use of the world Indians to define Native Americans WC: 2665

Eddie sighs, he knew that, as a first job, they would have sent him to some shit place, but god, Hawkins didn’t even seem like a town!

There was a big saloon, a prison, an emporium, and a few houses.

“They are building the railway.” The coach’s man tells him, while helping him with his bag “Stay away from trouble and you’ll be ok.”

Eddie snorts, that’s the very same thing that Wayne told him when he accepted the job.

“Thanks for the advice, man.” he replies, getting his things and walking into what seems like a hotel but it could also be a brothel.

“What do you want?” An angry woman asks him “I need a place to stay, I’m the new teacher.”

The woman laughs loudly “That’s what they sent us? A teacher? We need a fucking sheriff!”

Eddie shrugs “I’m sorry, I don’t know anything about sheriffs, I’m here to teach your sons how to read and write.”

“And you really think we need that? Our sons need to learn how to plow the land or how to take the herd to pasture. The majority of them are working in the mines! We don’t give a fuck about reading!”

Eddie keeps smiling, it’s not the first time that he has had this kind of conversation. These are people who came here, in the middle of nowhere, hoping to find some fortune and find themselves stuck between rocks and Indians.

“Fine. However, I still need a place to sleep. Is this a hotel?” he asks.

The woman studies him for a long time and then he nods.

“Seven dollars a week and you have to pay in advance.”

Shit. He hasn't even started the job and he is already going to spend most of it.

“Is lunch included?”

“Breakfast. And any advanced food from lunch.”

Fuck.

Ok. Ok. It’s not a big problem, as soon as he starts to teach his students will bring him something from their houses. Or at least that’s what Wayne taught him to do when he was young and he really hopes that his new students will do the same because, if not he will die of hunger in this fucking shit hole.

He nods and the woman shows him a little room with a bed, a table, and nothing more.

He sighs, he already misses his home, but he loves to teach and in his hometown,there was no place for him. Maybe his next job will be in a better town.

“Can you show me the school?”

The woman turns toward him and starts to laugh.

***

The school is actually an abandoned barn that still smells like horseshit.

“Are you the new teacher?” a handsome man asks while Eddie is trying to understand if somewhere there are some desks and chairs or if his students will have to sit on the ground.

“No, I’m the new sheriff!” he replies sarcastically.

“For real? I thought… oh… you are joking.” 

Eddie turns toward him, the man seems so sad that all he can do is offer his hand to him “Eddie Munson, teacher, and musician.”

“Steve Harrington, farmer and nothing else.”

“Please tell me, Mr. Harrington, what were you doing in my school?”

“Actually… I wanted to see if it was true that the new teacher has arrived.” he says smiling so sweetly that Eddie feels something warm filling him inside.

“And why is that?”

“My kid, Dust. He is really clever and he deserves an education. You know, I never got one.” he lowers his eyes, playing with the dirt with his boots “My father always said that I was too stupid and he was right. But Dustin is so fucking brilliant! He could do so many great things if given the opportunity! But we only got a teacher for less than a year.” he sighs “Not so many kids here, you know? It is a hard place to live in. But me and Dust, well, we like it here. It’s hard but peaceful. And at sunset, when we sit on the porch smoking, well, I smoke, Dustin just plays pretend but… It’s nice.”

Eddie nods “Seems like that. So I’m going to see your son tomorrow for my first lesson.”

Steve nods, and then he points toward the church “I think you should ask Father Jim if he would let you use the church for your lesson. Much better than this place.”

***

“No, no, no. I will not let the kids play in the house of god!” Father Jim replies, looking deeply offended.

“But the kids need some guidance, spiritual and material! We could join our forces and help them!”

The man shakes his head “You are a nice boy, Eddie, but you know nothing about the people that live here. They don’t care about the tuition of their children, they go to church only because they are scared that if they will not something bad will happen to them. I thought you heard what happened to the Harringtons.”

“Harringtons?” Like Steve Harrington, the cute boy he saw a few hours before?

The priest nods.

“Richard Harrington and his wife, Catherine, were killed in their house. Their son, Steve, escaped death miraculously and came back a few years ago with a child.”

“What happened?"

Father Jim sighs "Nobody knows exactly what happened. Rumors said that Neil Hargrove fell in love with Catherine and tried to kidnap her. Maybe her husband fought back, or maybe Hargrove was looking for blood. In any case, they were both murdered and no one took their farm until their son came back. They live on that farm." the man says, pointing to a big farm far from the town "It used to be the biggest farm we had, but now they have just a couple of cows and some horses."

***

On Monday Eddie starts his first lesson in the barn, and no one is attending.

He has seen some of the boys go to the mine with their fathers and he has tried to convince them to let them go to school, but the fathers refused.

He is sitting, drawing some stupid doddles with a stick, when a curly boy enters the barn.

"I'm sorry for being late! My father needed help with the cows. Well, he said that he did not but he did, so I stayed, and then he had to ride with me to get me here, but everyone hates us so we had to take the long way and... Are you alone?"

Eddie looks at the boy who suddenly stops to talk "Are you Dustin?"

He nods.

"I met your father yesterday."

The boy smiles "I know! I was so excited when I heard that a new teacher was coming, but Steve is really protective of me, so he wanted to make sure that I was in good hands. And I thought he was expecting a lady teacher because he wore his best hat, to hide the scar you know? And then he said that I could come and... oh! He told me to give you this!"

This, Eddie finds out, is an apple a little crushed on the side but that smells delicious.

"You know what? I have a room with a desk and a chair! Why don't we have our lesson there?"

"In your room?"

"It's not the best place in the world but still much better than a barn!"

While he walks toward the hotel with Dustin, he notices how everyone is avoiding them, some of them even cross themselves.

"I can go back home if you don't want to be seen with me."

"Why shouldn't I want that?"

"You know. People talk. And they do not like us. Steve says that they are jealous and envious of my talent, but he loves me too much."

"He told me you are really clever."

"That's because to him anyone who can add two and two is a genius!" he laughs.

Eddie doesn't know what it means exactly, but when he does some little test he easily finds out that Dustin is really clever indeed.

"And you studied with a teacher only for one year, is that correct?"

He nods.

"Miss Nancy was very nice. She gave me many books to read. I read them all but my favorite where about monsters, and knights."

Eddie smiles, he has a couple of those books "Why don't you take this one, and then you tell me what you liked the most?"

The big smile that Dustin gives him it's enough to win him over and he finds himself eager to teach him everything he knows.

***

In a couple of months, he has convinced some of the miners to send their sons to school at least once a week, and Father Jim has finally agreed to give him some space for his lessons while the barn is completely forgotten but Eddie is satisfied, he has a place to teach and he has his students. Especially Dustin, who sits always in the back but is the most brilliant of the class, and when he doesn't see the curly boy for three days in a row he asks for a horse and goes to his farm.

The farm is big and it has a lot of potential, it's obvious that it needs more than one person to deal with the animals, but he can see what a marvelous farm it used to be and how it could return to be.

What he is not expecting is seeing a riffle pointed at him as he gets closer to the farm.

"We don't want any trouble. Go away."

The voice is the same he heard months ago, but the tone is sterner.

"Steve. It's me. Eddie. The new teacher!" he says, removing his hat and letting his dark curls fall on his shoulder.

The man lowers the riffle and looks at him astonished "What are you doing here?"

"Dustin wasn't in class in the last few days and I wanted to know why."

"He is not feeling well." Steve explains to him "But he will come back to school as soon as he gets better.

"Do I have to call the doctor or..."

"No! We are fine! I'm taking care of him! Now you can go back where you came from and thanks for the visit." He replies, not moving from the porch, but Eddie is not going to have any of that.

"I'm not going to leave until I see the boy! You are hiding something and I'll find out what it is!" he replies getting closer.

"Listen, I don't have time...”

"Steve! Steve! They are coming! They are coming!" Dustin screams from inside the farm and Steve turns and runs inside the house, followed by Eddie.

"Hey. Hey. I'm here. No one is coming. Ok? I'm here. You are fine."

The boy is clearly feverish.

"He needs a doctor!" Eddie insists, but Steve shakes his head and takes a strange concoction that is boiling on the fire.

"Can you drink this for me, kid? Just a few sips."

The boy takes a sip, and then he makes a disgusted face.

"I know, I know, it's bitter, but you will feel so much better later, you know that right?" he comforts him, keeping the cup close to his mouth.

The kid nods and takes another couple of sips before falling asleep.

"He needs a doctor Steve." Eddie repeats "If his fever doesn't break soon..."

"It will."

"How do you know that?"

Steve sighs, and then leans on the back of the chair "Do you know why everyone hates us? Dustin and I?"

Eddie shakes his head and Steve continues

"When Neil Hargrove came to our town he killed my parents and left me for dead no one came from the town. No one helped us. They stayed closed in their stupid houses while we were slaughtered.” He closes his eyes for a moment “My father was not the nicest man in the world, but he fought for my mother. Hargrove killed him with a bullet in his head. Then he raped my mother and when he was satisfied, he gave her to his men. But me? He wanted me. More than anything. He raped me and beat me so hard that he broke my skull and thought that I was dead, or dying.

That night the Indians came too." he sighs "Abey told me that she had a dream of a baby deer in peril and when her husband found me she knew I was her baby deer. They nursed me back to health and taught me all I know, but when the railway workers got too close they had to move, and I couldn't go with them because I had a kid who was too white to be an Indian. That's why they hate me. Why they hate us. They consider me a half-Indian, and they know that Dustin is half-Indian too. They would send me away if they could, but the land it's mine and I know things..." he laughs, a dry laugh "You know what the funny thing is? That there is no doctor in this town. If anyone needs medical attention, they come to me. They need me, but they still hate me because I treat them with herbs and the Indians' method." he passes a hand into his hair and Eddie sees the horrible scar on the side of his head. He sighs "That's why I know that Dustin's fever will break." He concludes, getting up and going to the kitchen.

Eddie follows him, like a moth to a flame.

“I will understand if you do not want to teach Dustin, now that you know.” He clears his voice “I’ll tell him that I need him on the farm and he can’t go back to school. He will be made for a while, but it will be ok.”

“Why should you do that? Dustin is a brilliant student, I love to teach him and I don’t care if he is half-Indian or what. He is a good guy. Caring and loving and I’m lucky to have him in my class.”

"He is." Steve agrees, stirring some soup “Would you stay for dinner?”

Eddie nods, getting closer to help him with the plates, and he notices that all the spices have no name but little symbols.

“I could teach you, you know?”

“Uh?”

“To read. And to write. If you want to?”

Steve chuckles “I’m too stupid. Dustin tried to teach me once but it didn’t end well.”

“Because Dustin is very intelligent but he is no teacher. He is a resourceful and clever boy, but he gets too restless. He probably wanted you to learn everything in a day and then got frustrated. But I can teach you. And don’t tell me again that you are stupid because you just told me that you learned how to treat illness with herbs.”

“I… I would like to learn how to write my name. To sign papers you know.” He admits, lowering his eyes.

Eddie doesn’t waste a second, he takes a scrap of paper and charcoal and writes down in big letters STEVE, and then turns the paper toward the other boy “Try to copy that.”

They eat the soup in silence, while Steve keeps writing his name on the piece of paper and the letters become less shaky and more firm. They stop a couple of times when Steve gives Dustin his medicine, and when Dustin’s fever finally breaks, Steve is almost able to write his name.

Outside the sun is rising, and Eddie gets back to his horse “Tell Dustin that I’ll wait for him in class.” He says, and then he whispers to Steve’s ear “And I’m always willing to give you some private lessons, big boy.”

He does not turn to see Steve’s expression but he can almost feel the stern half-Indian boy blush.

[sasuhinasno1fan]

When it all changed - Lukadrien June 2024 Day 1

So I know I technically posted something for Day 1 of @lukadrienmonth but I had written that on my phone, the day of my college reunion when we were all walking around and doing things. I had the hardest time coming up with an idea and I thought the 9-1-1 au would work, but I actually hated it. It didn't have much Lukadrien in it and didn't really feel like it fit the prompt. I thought this went a little better. It's a Legally Blonde au and it's most based off the musical than the movie, which kinda felt fitting. I found the MTV showing of it on the day of my graduation after I got home and this is a fic I'd been working on the day of my reunion. Anyway, Emmett is more present in the musical, helping Elle with tutoring and studying, basically supporting her as she works her way into being a lawyer while also letting her support him in being a good lawyer. I thought since he'd oringally been so focused on making a good impression and doing well enough to work hard for his mom, that Elle's apperance in his life would of been the, well, start of a whole new look on life. Not to mention it being Elle's start on seeing herself as more than just her blonde hair. And as such, we get this. Hopefully you guys like this more. Start of something new

“Welcome to the hallowed halls of Harvard Law. I’m Luka Couffaine, class of the odd 5. I know how hard all of you worked to get here, so why don’t we go around the circle and introduce ourselves?”

Three years ago, Luka was sitting where these guys where, terrified that giving up music was the worst mistake of his life but after hearing how his mom almost made it through law school when she became pregnant with him and watching her stand up for herself against the ticket loving officer in France, Luka wanted to prove himself. People looked at their family, willing to break the rules and supporting each other and thought they’d never amount to anything. Luka was this close to become partner at Barbot’s firm and fully graduating as a lawyer. Being a TA was hard work, not to mention his part time jobs just so his father wouldn’t pay his loans but if he stuck to his routine, it would be ok. Everything would fall into place.

“Hi! Sorry I’m late!” a new voice yelled, interrupting Alya’s long resume of accomplishments – and possible lawsuits, how did she get away with half that stuff?

Americans considered themselves to be contained compared to all the international admissions, but this guy? The wildest thing Luka did was dye his hair blue. The blonde in front of them was dressed, quite fashionably, in pink. Somehow he managed to find a pink Harvard shirt and his newspaper boy hat was a shade of pink plaid Luka hadn’t seen before, not even from Rose. The strangest thing was the long-haired black cat tucked under his arm. Like most cats, he was boneless but not squirming an inch, tail twitching and purring loud enough Luka could hear him from where he sat

Luka didn’t know it then but, that boy was about to change his routine, his constant, his life.

Agreste, Adrien, like most of the students in his orientation group, was from France but he’d been living in the US to attend UCLA. He’d been accepted into top school in France and even Cambridge in England, but Adrien claimed he wanted a different experience. With a fashion designer father and actress mother, no one really told him no. he boasted about being the only male to be allowed in Delta Nu and was president and actually founded a charity for kids to gain an opportunity to go school despite their circumstance called Black Cats. And oh, of course, stopped Mireille Caquet from buying a ‘truly heinous tube top.’ Luka also found out –

“Wait, wait, wait. You caused the campus to close down for half an hour? Security was scrambling all over looking for someone, that was you?”

Adrien shrugged, not looking at all bothered. “Well, I thought my personal essay would be better given in person, instead of my original idea of filming it.”

“And they still let you in?” Alya asked, Prince Ali and even XY looking surprised.

“Well, they didn’t love the singing and dancing,” they didn’t like what? “But! Once I reminded him that getting the whole UCLA marching band and most of the cheer team to come help because of the type of person I saw, they decided to give me a chance. I was homeschooled until I ran away from home enough to just attend school once. I’m stubborn.”

Adrien was, something. A bit ditzy and a little naïve and focused on one girl, Kagami Tsurugi. The teachers had high hopes for her, her own father a famous graduate and when her family weren’t destroying opponents in fencing, they were running Japan as politicians. She could have looked annoyed when she saw Adrien in class with her, more so when he’d been hearing that the girl had a very jealous girlfriend ready to use her claws, but he’d heard the most surprising thing from her.

“Who is he?” Luka asked, after giving Adrien his syllabus for the class.

“My ex. Last I saw him, we were visiting family in France before Spring Break started.”

“Huh.” He said surprised. “he’s either a stalker or determined.”

“He’s actually one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met. The fact my family didn’t like him was I thought the most surprising part, but clearly, I’ve underestimated him. I’m almost looking forward to seeing the look on my mother’s face.”

Most people didn’t look proud of their Exes. Not that it lasted long. Adrien had gotten kicked out of Barbot’s class for not doing the reading, putting him on Marinette’s radar to stay away from her girlfriend, which started a trend. Adrien falling behind, despite how much he seemed to be trying, snarky comments not just from Marinette but everyone who thought the boy who loved pink didn’t belong and the bright smile Adrien had slowly growing dimmer. Plagg, Adrien’s cat, was becoming more of a security blanket than the only animal brave enough to climb onto Barbot’s table and not move after being shoved to go away.

So, Luka didn’t think much of it when he found Adrien crying on a bench on campus after another late night in the library and asked what was wrong. He’ll admit, he was surprised Adrien actually admitted he came to Harvard to follow Kagami, but he was also happy to hear that he wasn’t blind to how his school life had been going.

“So, you came out here to follow a girl and Harvard Law was just part of the plan? What rich romantic planet are you from?” he asked jokingly, pushing the bunny ears further up on Adrien’s head. Luka didn’t want to look in too deep as to why Adrien was dressed as a male Playboy bunny, just thankful he decided to wear a shirt in the East Coast fall weather.

“France? Technically.”

“SO, instead of walking through Parisian streets by the Eiffel Tower, you decide to just follow a girl to an Ivy League school? That’s got to be the weirdest reason-”

“Why’d you come?”

Luka had only ever said it once, during his own orientation. Despite being born in France like Adrien, he’d lived in the States his whole life, so his group had been bigger and most of them had zoned out by the time he spoke.

“Ok.” Luka dropped his bag on the bench and tugged his jacket off, putting it on Adrien’s shoulders. “My mamman was supposed to graduate from law school, but she dropped out to have me. It wasn’t part of my grandparent’s deal with her and when she wouldn’t go back after my first year to finish, they cut her off. So, she moved us here, not wanting anything to do with my dad. She almost got back together with him, but he never changed and he just left her with my sister. Life was hard growing up, but she worked hard to give us what we need, even after my sister’s anxiety got worse and my empathic nature made it hard for me to be around people. Thing was, she’s always been a rebel, so she’s gotten into trouble with the police. Mamman was top of her class though, so she could run rings around them but enough cop cars stopping by and a concerned social worker is enough to start rumours. People thought we wouldn’t amount to anything and I was getting so tired of people saying that to the person who gave everything up to be happy. So, I was going to prove them I could follow in her footsteps and still be better than all of them. when I win my first lucrative trail and can move us back to France so she can get the houseboat she always wanted, that’s when it’ll be worth it. I got through 3 years of law school with two jobs to pay for loans, so you’ll forgive me for not weeping at your tale.”

“Excuse me, just because you have some chip on your shoulder,” Adrien started.

“Yeah, and that chip has been the thing to help me through this and makes me driven as hell. Adrien, you’ve been given a chance most people dream of so don’t waste it. in fact,” he said, standing up and pulling his bag back on his shoulder, “think about getting a chip of your own. I want my jacket back.”

He’d given advice before, helped bolster a bit of encouragement into a student, maybe no one like Adrien, but it felt like routine at this point. Nothing should have changed.

Adrien got into Harvard after dragging a marching band and cheerleaders into the admissions office. Luka was starting to learn it was nearly impossible to not get drawn into what Adrien’s world was. So much so, that he was as surprised as his mother was when he told her what he was doing.

“Did you get my package for thanksgiving?”

Luka unlocked the door to his apartment with said package under his arm, using his foot to shut the door behind him.

“Yeah. I thought you weren’t planning on sending anything.”

“Thank Rose. Got flirted by some rich kid. A prince apparently, but he got so enamoured by her, he didn’t care she was dating your sister. Something about how he’ll be back in his country with armoured cars, so might as well make all the pretty girls happy with whatever they want?”

Luka was sent back to the first day of classes when he heard those words. “What’s his name? the ‘prince’?”

“Alibaba? No, that’s a website.”

“Ali. Prince Ali. Was Rose near campus? He goes here.”

“Oh.” His mother sounded surprised, but Luka was used to Rose doing odd things. She was a ray of sunshine dating his shadow of a sister, taken in by their pirate mother. “She was looking for you actually. Wanted to ask for a book to be held at your job and you almost never answer your phone unless you call first so. Where were you Tuesday? She thought you’d be at the library or grading papers.”

“Ah. I was helping tutor someone.”

“You?”

That wasn’t an insult. Luka was a nice person who gave encouragement but he had little patience for teaching people. He tried with Juleka, who snapped at him as much as he did her and the few times he tried during school to try and get paid for it, it ended up with him being paid to do the work because he’d become short with whoever he was teaching.

“There’s this student, a freshman. He’s…different.”

“Different enough that your tutoring him?”

He hadn’t planned it. Adrien dragged him back into conversation that night by asking for advice on how he managed to do it all during his first years, not that he seemed to listen as his main focus was trying to prove he was serious. He’d been invited back to Adrien’s room – all brightly coloured can slightly covered in black cat hair – and when Adrien admitted to studying magazines more than his text books, he sort of, snapped. He thought dismantling the desk turned vanity would annoy Adrien enough that he wouldn’t even try but even with a bit of groaning, Adrien still unearthed his textbooks and let Luka help him. Instead of heading to the library after Barbot’s classes, he’d find himself with Adrien, either dragging him to the library with him, admitting defeat and going to a coffee shop on occasion or to Adrien’s room. Being at his room meant sharing the new desk space with Plagg, Adrien’s cat and quizzing Adrien as he became as addicted to Redbulls as Adrien was. Whenever Adrien had essays or readings, Luka would still find himself in the dorm room working on his own work for classes or whatever Barbot dropped in his lap for work.

He hadn’t realised he’d fallen into new habits since meeting Adrien. It probably explained why when he went to their next study session, after he convinced Adrien to skip going home for Thanksgiving, that he took the whole package his mother had sent him and pushed back their normal video call where he’d eat the food sent with them.

“What’s this?” Adrien asked pulling out the half-thawed pieces of turkey and artichoke dip.

“I know you wanted to see your friends, so I thought we should at least feast on the classics. Unless you were heading home to France and want foir gros.”

“Gross.” Adrien said, scrunching his nose. He looked a picture, dressed down in an oversized pink UCLA hoodie and pyjama pants covered in anime characters. “I hate foir gros. To be honest, I hadn’t decided where I was going. I just planned on figuring it out when I got to the airport. Oh, don’t look at me like that. We don’t celebrate thanksgiving in France but I have good memories of it. one of my older sorority sisters invited me my first year. It was a massive thing, somehow missing all the trashy drama that happens now, but they let me join in their traditions, we watched the Addams Family movies and just eat the food. France just has my family. Though, dad is paying for me to come here, even after he didn’t think I should. I know most of my family doesn’t think I’m all that serious, even after what I did just to go to school in person with people and I’d like to prove to them I am. But they still believed in me. All I had to do was ace the LSATs and all years were paid. I guess passing my first year would prove to them they made the right choice.”

“You will.” Luka promised. “Now, we can steal the oven in the kitchen to warm the food up while I quiz you on famous cases. Remember, Barbot is going to have you justify your case for your test. Think you can keep up?”

Adrien looked nervous, but like everything else – except for when he’d broken down on that bench that fall night – he looked determined.

“I can do it.”

_____________________

The crush? That started to clue in later. His mother would tease him whenever he mentioned he’d been with Adrien, which was nearly every day when he wasn’t busy. The holidays had thankfully slowed the office as many gave up high profile cases for vacations in warmer weathers but Luka filled the time off he’d been given with more shifts at his jobs, going over Adrien’s work and slowly getting Adrien to realise that his desire to get Kagami’s attention was doing more harm than good.

It had clicked for the blonde when Luka came to drop off his present. It had been a joke, the 2-in-1 shampoo and conditioner, mostly to see the disgusted and horrified look on his face when Luka mentioned he used it.

“you have coloured hair! You recently coloured it too.” Luka hadn’t expected Adrien to dig his hands into his hair, messing up his bangs and causing them to fall into his eyes. “how on earth do you use that stuff and your hair is this soft?” Luka should have picked up on something when he noticed that Adrien’s hands, whenever they passed over his ears, were really soft. “You are joking right? Luka, I swear if this is what you actually use.”

Someone clearing their throat reminded them they weren’t alone. Luka pulled Adrien’s hands away to look at the guy smirking at them from Adrien’s bed. “Don’t mind me, just enjoying the show.”

“Ah. Right. Luka, this is Max. he graduated from MIT early and works at the nail salon I go to.”

“Right. With the miniature horse.”

“He’s a trained therapy animal.” Max reassured. Honestly, Luka was doing criminal and divorce law, that was not his problem. “I was helping Adrien study. I think I’ll head out though. Nice to finally meet you Luka. Adrien mentions you all the time.”

“Nothing bad!” Adrien assured as Max disappeared doing something behind Luka’s head that he barely caught. “But seriously, you were joking right?”

“Adrien?” Kagami asked, knocking on the door. The blonde ripped his wrists from Luka’s hands and smiled at his ex. “have you gotten the email from Barbot yet? I wanted to print off the reading he wants us to do to read on the plane home and I still haven’t seen anything.”

“I, uh,” Adrien giggled. “I…um?”

Luka decided to help him out. “I send the readings out. Barbot hasn’t sent me the original documents he wants. It’ll be out soon.”

Kagami seemed surprised to see him there, glancing at Adrien before nodding to herself. She looked set on something before offering her thanks and leaving, Adrien still as incoherent as he’d been when she walked in. he knew this is why Adrien wasn’t doing so well, focused on getting Kagami’s attention. Why it filled him with such hot rage, he had no clue. Watching Adrien put the pieces together and actually win his practise case was amazing, more so when Barbot seriously accepted Adrien’s resume for his internship, even printed on pink paper and scented. When Adrien was one of the 4 names, Luka couldn’t be prouder.

He could have done without him deciding to be a trustworthy lawyer to their client Clara Nightengale by keeping her alibi secret and not budging for anyone. Not even him. It somehow then evolved into Adrien dragging him shopping.

“I don’t need a new suit.” He tried protesting as the entered the department store.

“Luka,” Adrien turned, looking odd in the black suit he was in. it was the first time he wasn’t in any sort of pink. “I know you’ll find a way of winning this without Clara’s alibi or a plea deal, not to mention doing the one thing you’re trying to avoid.”

“Which is?”

“giving people what they want. Luka, come on, you became a lawyer because everyone thought you’d amount to nothing and that your mother was the same. The same woman who raised you to be a rebel and do the right thing.”

“How is clothes going to help with that?”

Adrien actually giggled and bounced in place at the question. “clothes help paint the picture. I love your jean jackets and ripped jeans and I know you’re an amazing lawyer but looking the part would be a massive help in showing what you can do. I know you’re amazing. Now we just need to show everyone else. Come on! god, I love shopping for guys!”

Since dawning the black suit, Adrien seemed to be hiding but the whole experience made him look like the naive freshman who graduated UCLA to follow a girl he’d moved on from. Silly as it sounded, it was the side of Adrien he loved. He didn’t do this, get so involved with a student that they became his best friend, that he wanted to gain their approval, that they’d be so concerned over him not going back on his morals just to gain the approval of a boss to make his life easier.

“Love? It’s the new scent from Calvin Klein.” A department associated offered.

He didn’t fall in love.

But since that first day, where Adrien rushed over to their group decked in pink and carrying Plagg, full of tales and anecdote, unwilling to give up no matter how hard, Luka’s whole life had changed. There was a new routine, a new path. That first day was the start of something new he was never expecting.

And he wouldn’t change it for the world. The things that almost made him lose him after, that he would, but considering it got Adrien back into his signature pink plus bonus heels – a sight that would never get old – he couldn’t be too upset.

[sponsoredbylaziness]

Romanticizing Loneliness

I'm doing this again. I'm just so bored and I need an outlet.

Sometimes I feel like I don't feel like I belong in both the Philippines or in United States. I don't know. My whole life up to this point, I have a stronger connection with the US than PH. Mainly because I grew up US not in PH. But after spending almost a year here in the PH, I'm starting to gravitate more of being a Filipino than American. I wouldn't say that I am a Filipino even though I was born here, but you know. I'm warming up to the idea. This doesn't mean that I will stay here and work in the Philippines. No sir. Under no circumstances will I stay and work in the Philippines. Fuck their salary, working conditions, and living. I'd rather be single, graduate, and go back to the US to work. I just wish I wouldn't go back to the US single. I'd want a jowa to be with me when I go back.

Another thing that's bothering me is that all of my family and relatives are telling me to watch out for girls here in the PH. They say things like, " be very careful about finding a girlfriend here at the college because you live in the US." My uncle jokingly said to me, "Don't worry Angelo, just have fun. You won't have a problem getting any girls there in the Philippines." My mom before I came back here for my intersem was asking if I was looking at a girl here in the college. She was warning me like, " If you like a girl, be friends with her first." I just agreed, said my goodbyes and walked to the TSA line to get to my flight. What a load of bullshit. To be fair to them, I'm not even trying to get a girl right now and when I did try.... I failed spectacularly. I don't think I've caught a bigger L than that. Looking back at that event, I just laugh at how unbelievably fucked I fucked that up. To think that she liked me back, what was I thinking. I think it's because everyone around me is settling down. Both of my sisters have boyfriends. My friends at the US have their girlfriends or boyfriends. My friends here at the PH have jowas. I think the girl that rejected me is in a relationship. And I'm here 11/11 on rejections and failed relationships. Maybe I'm the problem or something. Do I share too much, or share too little. Do I be flirty or sensitive. People say I need to have an angle or something. I don't know what to believe anymore. Maybe I'm just too nice or maybe too passive. I can't help it. Whenever I see someone I really like, I get nervous, I get shy, I stare at them hoping they're brave enough to start the conversation. But I also need to learn about self respect.

I remember one of the conversations my little sister's boyfriend told me while we were out bar hopping. I was telling them that there was a guy who kept liking all of my posts in instagram and stories all the way back to my first post. He told me, "When I first saw you. I knew you weren't gay. So take it as a compliment." Not that I already wasn't. I was talking to one of my friends one time and we were talking about people who are attracted to me on bumble and I said, "I guess only filipinas would match me" and he said, "and apparently gays too."

I don't know yet whether to share this on twitter or not. I don't know if I'm going to do this regularly or not. I'll just say I posted a thing on twitter and shit idk. This is too intimate for people to see. But it's not like people even follow me so. It is what it is. I'm almost 26 years old. At this point, I'm accepting the fact that I am going to be a virgin for the rest of my life. I'm not desperate enough to pay money for sex. I think it's my morals that is stopping me from having sex. I just want a partner who would like to be a couch potato with me. I fantasized about just having a girl sit by me side-by-side with her head resting on my shoulder while we watch TV shows on my laptop. Then spoon her while we go to sleep. Like how the wind embraces your entire body, I want to hug someone like that. No sex, just that. Cuddling.

I guess that's it for now. Feelings

[twittercomfrnklin2001-blog]

It Should Happen to You

Pauline Kael used to say that screwball comedy was killed by pressure groups that didn’t want to see their demographics held up to ridicule. I don’t know how true that is, but certainly the more serious bent in American life following World War II helped create a world where nobody wanted to see themselves as screwballs. Then along came Judy Holliday. She had no trouble assuming Carole Lombard’s mantle as “the daffy Duse,” even if her films kept making us pay for laughing with her. For most of George Cukor’s IT SHOULD HAPPEN TO YOU (1954, Criterion Channel, Tubi), she’s deliciously demented as a young woman determined to become famous for being famous. Unlike in BORN YESTERDAY (1950), where we’re asked to pay for all the fun by having her learn the error of her ways, this film’s resolution isn’t all that traumatic. In fact, she’s allowed to remain as screwy as she was at the start.

Gladys Glover (Holliday) originally came to New York to make a name for herself. When she loses her job as a girdle model, instead of using her savings to return to Binghamton, NY, to marry the second man who proposes, she rents a billboard on Columbus Circle and plasters her name on it. A big-time soap magnate (Peter Lawford), who wants the sign for his company, trades her six other prominent billboards, and suddenly she’s a celebrity. That doesn’t sit well with her boyfriend (Jack Lemmon, in his first billed film role), a documentarian who finds her thirst for celebrity distasteful, but it lands her an unscrupulous manager (Michael O’Shea) only too happy to make a fortune off her.

Garson Kanin’s screenplay is smart. He takes his potshots at celebrity culture, TV and advertising without lingering over them, and having written three earlier films with Holliday knows exactly the kinds of lines that work for her high-pitched, perpetually surprised delivery. Cukor directs all this gracefully. His tracking shots are almost musical. And he helped Lemmon adapt to film acting by showing him how to keep his performance grounded in reality. The two stars work beautifully (they’d reunite later that year for the very good divorce comedy PHFFFT). His offhand line delivery matches up with her pixilated line readings to give their scenes an improvisatory sense. Most of them feel lighter than air. Even Lawford comes off well, in a mostly thankless role. When he tries to seduce Holliday, his physical grace is sexy but also funny.

It's a curious thing, though. Holliday was typed as dumb blondes, but it’s really grating to hear her called “dumb” on screen. Broderick Crawford had to pay for it big time in BORN YESTERDAY, as do the crooked executives who don’t take her seriously in THE SOLID GOLD CADILLAC (1956). So, when her fight scenes with Lemmon lead to his calling her stupid, it feels wrong. She’s given us too much fun for us to accept that she’s merely stupid, particularly since she’s been smart enough to get what she wanted. It’s a major accomplishment that Kanin and Cukor get the film back on track quickly and regain the buoyancy of Holliday’s earlier scenes. With Connie Gilchrist as a wise-cracking landlady, Whit Bissell as an advertising executive, Jack Benny foil Frank Nelson as, what else, a floorwalker, John Saxon in an early bit as a teen in Central Park, and Constance Bennett, Ilka Chase and Wendy Barrie as themselves. It’s some kind of comment on celebrity that even cast as herself, Barrie can’t play a believable human being.

[hasufin]

Stupid HSA tricks. OR, "Give me my money"

I've had this email sitting in my inbox for a while now, reminding me that I have a balance in my Health Savings Account.

Now, for non-Americans, a Health Savings Account - HSA - is one of those half-assed compromises to make our hellscape of a healthcare system very slightly more tolerable. The idea is, some of your own income is deducted from your paycheck before taxes, and you may use that money exclusively for medical care without paying income tax on it.

Of course, this can't just be handled by the government. No sense in doing that. When this income is deducted from your paycheck, it is graciously held by a private company which will kindly dole it out to you when you submit acceptable requests. In the interim, of course, they will hold onto your money and invest it as they see fit, garner the profits from it.

If this sounds like a scam, it totally is. In fact, when this was first introduced these companies also had "policies" such that if you didn't use your HSA money before the end of the year, they just got to keep anything you had left. I believe the laws were changed to put a stop to THAT.

However, my previous experiences with this scam informed my general feeling on the entire system. One of my previous employers had an HSA such that we had these debit cards with which ostensibly we could make any medical purchase directly. However, if there was a dispute regarding any payment, they would lock the accounts for everyone in our company. And, this HSA denied Every. Single. Claim. No matter how obviously it was qualified, the first couple of times you submitted a claim, it would be denied as unauthorized. Which meant everyone had their accounts locked all the time.

So, anyway. With my current employer there's an HSA. As a matter of personal policy I don't participate - even if they're a legit, ethically-run service, the reality is I'm only saving a pittance in income tax for a huge pain in the ass. But somehow it turns out I have $500 in my HSA, which has rolled over year after year.

I tried to pull it out for some dental work, um, back in 2020. And that never resulted in me getting a check or anything. At the time I was busy and just shrugged and went on with my life.

Today, having blown the cost of a small car on four teeth, I decided to get that $500 out of the account. And thus ensued...

First, I did not recall the password to my account. And I did not write it down, because I had zero intention of using that account once I got my money out. No problem, reset password.

They send me a password link. The link also tells me the text of the security question. I vaguely recall their security questions were off-the-wall stuff I don't have any sort of answer for. (I do not give my mother's actual maiden name for that kind of question, but I do have a specific answer I give for it.) But this was a "Uh, what?". And bear in mind, there was clearly an answer in their system.

So I'm trying to come up with the security question, and figured it out on the third try. So I get the password reset and...

They're sending me an authorization code. Right.

I get the auth code and finally I'm actually in.

First, I look at the old claim and it's just listed as "unpaid". Why was it unpaid? No reason! It just wasn't paid. Not denied, not unauthorized or not qualified. They just didn't pay! Gosh, I wish it worked like that with my own bills!

So, come to find out after much digging, they've got "Request reimbursement" and "Add a claim". The former is - supposedly - the one where you get money from them. The latter is a "courtesy" to help you track your medical bills. So adding a claim has no bearing on the money you have in your HSA, it's just you writing stuff down. In spite of being identical to the reimbursement section.

Okay. Now I think I need to request reimbursement on this claim.

Denied. No authorized account for that claim. They rolled the money over and now I can only get paid for stuff which happens during this calendar year. Fine. I have a current medical bill where I blew WAY more than $500 out of pocket.

I put that in, and request reimbursement. No, wait, I don't. Because first you have to put the request in and save it. THEN you go into the request and tell the system you want paid. Because, apparently, people will put in a request but NOT want paid. Sure, that makes sense.

I request reimbursement. And I want them to mail me a paper check, thank you. Yes, I know it will incur a fee. And no, I will not "pwetty pwease let us have access to your bank account it's faster and easier and we're totally secure and definitely don't use this as a means to collect even more saleable information on you."

I request a check. And within thirty seconds I get an email telling me the funds have been "returned" because they tried to make a payment and it did not work. Which is really fucking fast for delivering a check, let me tell you.

And there is no further guidance on what to do. The website says the request is "not approved" but no information on what that means. I request to contact a representative. Which involved navigating a chatbot and repeatedly telling it that, no, it has not identified my problem and DO NOT redirect me to a page which talks about something else.

I finally get a human on the chat function. Who tells me that from their end everything looks fine, they just need to review the request and I'll get the check in 7-10 business days. Which would be GREAT except i have nothing official to indicate that. The rep claims the system is mistakenly telling people requests are being denied and IT is aware. Which is kind of suspicion in an industry which routinely denies valid requests anyway. So of course their system "mistakenly" says requests are denied.

Since I trust this exactly not at all, I ask for something official, as a chat in the company's website is not a legally actionable record. But of course there's no way to do this. I can download or copy and past the chat, which is equivalent to me writing out a text file.

So, I'm probably not ever getting my money.

[sassypotatoe1]

I read your reblog about your living situation and I'm sorry you're in such dire straits. Have you considered moving to a different town or state? Is there any way I can help?

Hi! That blog was mostly a commentary on the current economic state of the world and a show of solidarity. I also live in one of the cheapest towns in my country, and looking at property in the other cheapest towns in the country according to our state stats body has yielded no luck. The problem here, and in many countries, is that property has been allowed to appreciate according to real estate agencies' whims for upwards of 50 years, but wages have been stagnant for most people for even longer than that. In south africa the unemployment rate, but especially the youth unemployment rate has skyrocketed drastically. However high you think it is, it's higher.

I do really appreciate the sentiment, and I'm glad you sent this ask, but unfortunately the solution isn't really to move somewhere else, because especially here in south africa when the stats are released of which towns are the cheapest to live or own property in, rich people and property developers flock to those places to buy up all the available property for holiday homes or bed and breakfasts, and then they buy the shops and price gouge the fuck out of everything because they know that people will see the stats and come running trying to find a place where they can survive.

Then when they've made their money out of the town they leave and list their property at triple or even quadruple the original value it was listed at just a year before, making it an impossible town to find property in, and leaving long-term residents in a wrecked micro economy. I've seen it happen 27 times in the last 5 years I've been monitoring the national property market. It's happening to my home town right now.

And you'd think it's house flippers and gentrification how Americans experience it, but very often these rich people buy a house for a couple hundred thousand, slap some new paint on it and get a landscaping company to update the garden, and then a year later when their effect has caused the entire town to become more expensive to live in, and their profit off this property is smaller, they leave and list it for a couple million. It doesn't get sold, they get a write-off on it, no one can move into the property, it falls apart. They add no actual value to the property or the area, they're just there to bleed the place dry and move on.

The overall solution for society is to cap property value appreciation at fixed rates. What would it cost to build an identical house and create an identical garden? That's your property value. It's valued at its actual material value. From my more socialist, radicalized perspective I firmly believe that food, Healthcare, education, shelter, clothes, utilities and transport should be completely free. Everything you earn with your work in excess of what you personally get from it* goes to luxury items. Arts, holidays, comfort, entertainment. Voting and lobbying and protesting to get to that point is what's needed.

*my take on this is too nuanced to include in this post I'd have to actually sit down outside of work hours and cite sources and write a bona fide academic dissertation.

Anyway you can help me personally by donating money to my Kofi or buying products from my redbubble, which are both linked over on my mostly dead art blog (I haven't had time to make any art for months) @snowflkedivergent. The money I get through these platforms pay into PayPal, from which I can't transfer money into my bank account because only one bank in the country accepts withdrawals from PayPal and I've been trying to open an account unsuccessfully for 5 years.

Instead I use money I make there to purchase stuff from wish, Amazon etc. To make physical art with, that I can then sell at markets to make more money. This is very slow going because I'm too busy to actually make the art, but when I'm behind on projects and still have a lot of stock to use up like now I use that money to buy clothes as my clothes get worn out or no longer fit.

I say all this so you know what your money would be going towards if you choose to donate, and that I'm not using it irresponsibly. The money I save buying these things with donation money goes directly into my fixed deposit for housing.

Again, thank you for this ask and for caring and wanting to help, I really appreciate it. Find out about housing lobbyists in your area and put pressure on the government to make quality housing accessible again.

[202310271]

"Moving Around"

I feel the people monitoring me in private ruined it for me after with Petra Mullejans making me not able to escape how people in Orlando acted because then the people in Cleveland did.

What they did was make it so I couldn't somehow set myself up in my room or new home finally and somewhat with a kind of luck ... that now I kept thinking I should move back to Florida so people don't always panic in my face while I sit alone in my home that things like computers aren't modern and freak out about food running out the door and money going down the hole "no matter what."

So, I'm from Florida and post online. My family from my dad's side is mostly from Pennsylvania, and I'm nextdoor in Ohio and you know Pennsylvania is notorious for being Amish or "just farmers."

So, back in Florida, everyone is so grateful to every last drop to try to just feel more pleasance and pleasing pleasure in life, respect computers like a god. In Pennsylvania, it's like that with food. I notice Cleveland is the only one taking for granted food from Pennsylvania and computers being modern, not something to slip in the trash, as you exit the door.

I've not been able to unwind in Cleveland like in Orlando, as I said it transferred. Also, the people monitoring me in private "didn't do anything." I was still shit for going to college rather than getting a minimum wage job. My parents died and I couldn't graduate. I did like hundreds of job applications over the more recent years and had 7 jobs from 2019-2023. Anyway. I guess I was just shit. I wanted to get off Social Security Income and was sick from pills I didn't need. I couldn't get a high paying job or work full time on Social Security. Joni kept repeating after Barb not to get off Social Security, and they were supposed to help me but knew they didn't have to, even if they said. Everyone else bothered me for not getting helped, when my parents died without insurance, from losing money from their illnesses. They just knew I went to college. I was at home practicing. I was told by my dad's cousin, my dad's younger sister, and my therapist to find a group home, one they don't have to pay for of course, and most are full. I did it so I could finish college. Oh, Cleveland was excited, especially the girl in charge of the second group home. They were excited, like Orlando, about practicing all the time to catch up with people who started younger. Except, no one focused on not taxing my nerves, illegally threatening me about my needs, etc., and just that I practice violin or else, I'm trashed and hurt. I asked for better and more nutritious food, and Cleveland yelled at me and didn't get in trouble. No one helped me find a new group home. I had to leave in a hurry when police wouldn't collect a dangerous man I lived with for 8 or 9 months. I moved to a $630 apartment per month, and it was so noisy for over a year. I could not concentrate. I managed to block then noise with a noisemaker, earplugs, and YouTube with a speaker I could afford. It is nice it is a complex. I thought you couldn't find or wait for a cheap one, like $100-$200. So, I lost $400 a month. Instead, I have $900 after "bills." Toiletries per month usually is $100 and sometimes other needs. I need to get insurance and a retirement piggy bank or account. So, $800/month for food is not eating out every week if you eat enough? I cold have had $1200, which is a big chunk of a minimum wage worker paycheck. Lots of people who work have families if planning to go to college or maybe in college. They might not even pay for their car, like $100 if used.

I could get "well over a million $" from Lejeune and not sure what to do rather than save ALL of it and just stay here. I only came here temporarily and wanted to be an American in Europe. I wonder about being HALF Chinese half White, as FULL Asians are actually accepted in Germany, Berlin, Paris... If I got a lot, I could do a lot not buy a mansion. I could wait. College is a waste for a smart person like me who does the arts. Europe is drooling with its young adult females. I wanted to fit in and do Business and make lots of money, but I guess I'm in the arts and shouldn't even finish my AA. I am gonna record a singing CD to start and use MIDIs, just want to know if it will sell now since I can't afford to advertise anything if more than like $100. Hollywood seems expensive and no time to dance maybe, but that's another thing I miss in the world.

So, where to live? L.A.? I don't really wanna. The arts, N.Y.C.? London? Italy?

Florida? Just because of the computers and interference Up North from the people monitoring me in private using Petra Mullejans and Andre Rieu as a running excuse in their subconscious still? It's hot in Florida and sorta laid back and not always a high EQ, or emotional intelligence. People Up North are strong and free to roam around. Georgia and the South? Elite but stuck up about family.

[h1myname1sv]

Summary:

AMSTERDAM, 1943. Hanneke spends her days finding and delivering sought-after black market goods to paying customers, nights hiding the true nature of her work from her concerned parents, and every waking moment mourning her boyfriend, who was killed on the Dutch front lines when the German army invaded. Her illegal work keeps her family afloat, and Hanneke also likes to think of it as a small act of rebellion against the Nazis.

On a routine delivery, a client asks Hanneke for help. Expecting to hear that Mrs. Janssen wants her to find meat or kerosene, Hanneke is shocked by the older woman's frantic plea to find a person: a Jewish teenager Mrs. Janssen had been hiding, who has vanished without a trace from a secret room. Hanneke initially wants nothing to do with such a dangerous task but is ultimately drawn into a web of mysteries and stunning revelations—where the only way out is through.

Excerpt:

A long time before Bas died, we had a pretend argument about whose fault it was that he'd fallen in love with me. It's your fault, he told me. Because you're lovable. I told him he was wrong. That it was lazy to blame his falling in love on me. Irresponsible, really.

I remember everything about this conversation. It was in his parents' sitting room, and we were listening to the family's new radio while I quizzed him for a geometry exam neither of us thought was important. The American singer Judy Garland was singing "You Made Me Love You." That was how the conversation began. Bas said I'd made him love me. I made fun of him because I didn't want him to know how fast my heart was pounding to hear him say the words love and you in the same sentence.

Then he said it was my fault, also, that he wanted to kiss me. Then I said it was his fault if I let him. Then his older brother walked in the room and said it was both of our faults if he got sick to his stomach listening to us.

It was only later that day, when I was walking home—back when I could walk home without worrying about being stopped by soldiers or missing curfew or being arrested—that I realized I'd never said it back. The first time he said he loved me, and I forgot to say it back.

I should have. If I'd known what would happen and what I would find out about love and war, I would have made sure to say it then.

That's my fault.

Thoughts:

The first time I read this book, I wasn't too taken by it. I did enjoy it, but it was nothing more than a passing joy of finishing another good book. This time around, I found that it made me a lot more emotional than I was expecting? I finished the majority of it in one day, which is super fast compared to how I've been reading the past few years.

If you've seen the summary, Hanneke is constantly grieving her boyfriend, but for most of the book, it isn't an open or in-your-face kind of grief. It's the type of grief that is quiet and follows her around, even subconsciously affecting her decisions in such a realistic way (not going to spoil how).

I was definitely not alive during the time of the book, but I really loved this glimpse into 'normal' life during that time, and I found myself reading the author's note at the end and marveling at how much effort she put into the accuracy of her story.

I also really loved these little, intermittent few-paragraph passages that serve as glimpses into the past like the excerpt from above. I guess I just really love that kind of writing style? Acknowledging and accepting the past. I don't know. I do know that a lot of you aren't going to read this, but honestly these posts are really just for me, just so that I can remember what I read and how I felt the first/second/however many times around.