#converse TX

[hythlodaes]

i thought of some dialogue i really wanted to use on my drive to work today but i didn’t write it down and now. it’s gone. 😔

[cornettotrilogies]

Having deep and meaningful discussions on Discord with my lovely sibling

[atomicqueer]

people who post every single snapchat memory to their story confuse me. idek what this bitch looks like anymore cause every time i try to check in on them their story is just random selfies from 6, 4, 2, & 5 years ago. bro what state do you live in??? do you have a mohawk or not?? u still with that dude? only god knows at this point

[thelightfamilydental]

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[conversesmiles]

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[army-of-bee-assassins]

why the fuck are apartment locators not a thing in every state i feel like i'm going crazy

[hometoursandotherstuff]

This restored 1970 mid-century modern home in Houston, Texas has walls of glass in the back and from front to back at the entrance. It's so exposed, I could never live here. 5bds, 5ba, $3.1M.

Through the front door, smack in the middle of the house, is a conversation pit with a large skylight over it.

There's also a very large dining area.

From the living room in the back of the home you can see up to the 3rd floor. Look at the sofa in a brick niche up in the loft- that's different.

There are 5 baths in house.

The kitchen is minimalist modern and looks like it has its own fireplace but it's just a shelf with a small sitting area.

The primary bedroom is open and consists of more than one room.

This glass enclosure appears to be, maybe, a yoga/meditation room.

The en-suite has a large shower and what looks like a double tub.

And, this is the closet/dressing room. Not liking the minimalist furniture in a house this expensive- it looks like IKEA.

Here's a family room.

Large secondary bedroom.

And, this is a child's room.

One of the other baths.

I don't know if that's book shelving on the right or an art installation.

This is another dining area on one of the upper floors.

There are 2 big decks in the back of the house.

It's only a .92 acre lot, which doesn't give it much seclusion for all that glass, especially if someone decides to build nearby. Plus, there appears to be a road going by along the bayou.

[canonicallyobserving911]

The Buckley Siblings & Buckley Parents: Season 7

Maddie's getting married and Buck’s going to be in the wedding but... don't forget Margaret and Phillip will return to L.A. to attend.

Why is this important?

It's important because EVERY TIME the Buckley parents go to L.A., they're only there because Maddie invited them and EVERY TIME things don't go well for Buck.

Before I get started, I need to preface this for all the people who are going to say, "I thought Maddie's and Chimney's wEdDinG was sUpPoSEd to be about them"; it will be but please remember Buck is Maddie's brother and EVERY TIME the Buckley parents were in Los Angeles, Chimney was there with Maddie and Buck and he witnesssed those $hitshows in person. Also, this post is about the Buckley siblings and their parents and how things always unfold when they show up.

Let's stroll down 9-1-1 memory lane for a minute shall we...

Season 4 - they traveled to L.A. because Maddie was pregnant.

In 4x4, Maddie was pregnant with Jee-Yun and after Buck returned from Austin, TX, she told him that she invited their parents because she wanted her daughter to have a normal family with grandparents who would be involved in her life. But Buck told her she should have gotten knocked up by a guy who had one of those. She responded she was willing to try and after some convincing, he agreed to try too.

Here are the Buckley's arriving at Chimney's and Maddie's apartment and please look at Margaret's face. It's evident she didn't want to be there. They had dinner but it was awkward, especially since Maddie told their parents about Buck being in therapy.

Their second dinner turned into a $hitshow of epic proportions after they gave Maddie a baby box but they didn't have one for Buck.

Before I move on, please take a look at how Margaret scowled at Buck. Her face was filled with a look of digust. I wonder why that is🤔?

Their argument ended with Buck begging them to love him anyway.

At the end of 4x4, Maddie finally told Buck about Daniel and their conversation continued into 4x5.

In 4x5, after Maddie revealed the truth about Daniel's Juvenile Leukemia, Buck was devastated and he stopped talking to her.

Also, he told the 118 he was used for his "defective parts".

At the end of the episode, Buck apologized to them for not being able to save his brother but the audience didn't see them ask him to forgive them and IMO, that was on purpose.

When he arrived at Maddie's and Chimney's he looked like he was all alone. But they talked and made up.

Season 6 - they traveled to L.A. to see Maddie's new house.

In 6x10, Maddie told Josh her parents wanted to see their new house even though it wasn't finished being renovated but reminder, Margaret and Phillip loaned them the money for their down payment and that's why they wanted to see it. (Actually, they wanted to see Jee-Yun but they used the house as an excuse.)

Before Buck, Maragret and Phillip arrived, Maddie said to Chimney, "You're right. We have nothing to worry about. It's not like anybody's going to drop any deep dark family secrets this time". 👀

There has to be a secret, otherwise she wouldn't have said that.

After Buck picked them up from the airport, they only talked about the weather and after they arrived, Maddie went to get Jee-Yun and brought her into the living room. In the photo above, Buck's in the background and even though Maddie's in the foreground, she's partially in the dark about whatever secret Margaret and Phillip are keeping from both of them.

When Margaret saw the sonogram on Buck’s phone, the look on her face was one of disbelief NOT SHOCK.

It was almost like they COULDN'T BELIEVE BUCK GOT SOMEONE PREGNANT. 👀

While they were there, Buck got struck by lightning.

And he died for three minutes and seventeen seconds.

Season 7 - They'll be in L.A. for the third time but it still won't be for Buck because they're going to Maddie's wedding.

It's likely they will be at the hospital to visit Chimney but what kind of chaos will ensue this time since EVERY TIME THEY SHOW UP, SOMETHING BAD HAPPENS TO BUCK?

Reminder, they only go to L.A. when it's for Maddie, i.e., her pregnancy, her new house and in season 7 it will be for her wedding. For whatever reason, in 4x4 they only had a baby box for Maddie 👀. And remember before they leave, something bad ALWAYS happens to Buck.

I have an idea of what might happen and why it will. My theory has EVERYTHING TO DO WITH BUCK’S BIRTH AND THE SPERM DONATION HE DID FOR CONNOR AND KAMERON. (But I'm still debating if I will post it. If I do, I'll post it before the season begins.)

[thatbanditqueen]

Basic Training Chapter 7

Mad love to my alpha @whositmcwhatsit seriously your editing and feedback make this so much better. Also love and special thanks to my lovely elvis coven, @vintageshanny @ellie-24 @be-my-ally @peskybedtime @from-memphis-with-love @missmaywemeetagain @powerofelvis @be-my-ally @shakerattlescroll @lookingforrainbows and to @ab4eva for her sweetness, you were the only person to ask me about Bess on tumblr between now and the last chapter and I was like oh, I guess someone is still reading this. Which is good. Because I am still writing it. ;)

Thanks to everyone who reads this, shares, reblogs, leaves a comment or whatever. I write for myself, but I publish for community, and I don't think I could write with out your support and friendship.

Summary: Bess resigns to get over Elvis and move on, but he has other plans.

Warnings: Not much, depictions of mental illness/delusion.

WC: 6.5 K

If you need to catch up Chapter Six: Guided Missiles or the masterlist here Basic Training

Click here if you prefer to read on A03

Chapter 7: The Minefield

12:15 p.m., Friday,  April 24th, 1958

Commissioned Officer’s Mess

Army Intelligence Training Unit, Fort Hood, TX

“I thought you were applying to law school?”

Bess let her straw drop out of her mouth to meet James’ concerned stare across the mahogany table.

“Um, I changed my mind.” Her eyes dropped back to her chocolate egg cream and she paused for a moment. The sound of glasses clinking and hushed conversations reverberated through the Army Intelligence officer’s club. “I kinda dropped the ball on writing my sample essay. And,ugh, I haven't been able to focus at all on studying for the entrance exam.” Bess trailed her shoe anxiously across the burgundy carpet, she hated admitting that she had given up on lawyer school. “It’s just temporary, a temporary pause.  No, for now, I think a year or two working for the state department is the best next step. I’ve always wanted to spend time in Europe..”

“But Helsinki, Bess?” James reached over to comfort her with a hand squeeze, but she pulled loose and went back to eating her pot roast lunch.

“Finland is a stepping stone.I could be working in Berlin next summer. And Helsinki has a lot of international action. It’s right next to St. Petersburg.”

“This sudden need to go to the coldest burg in Europe wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain tall, dark soldier who’s been doing extra laps around the barracks every day, would it?”

Bess lifted her thick, white cotton napkin to obscure the blush spreading up her cheeks. “I saw that he’s had extra PT, I’ve been wondering what happened.”

“Oh? I thought for sure that was all you and your front office connections, getting back at Presley — “

“Jameson, I would never abuse my position in the Front Office for revenge. You know how basic training is. Drill sergeants use any excuse to tear you apart just so they can build you back up again. He probably was late to inspection, or maybe he tried to protest extra push ups, and now it’s marathon time everyday til he’s learned his lesson.”

“Hmmm, must be. Though I don’t feel even the teensiest twinge of sympathy for him after that stunt he pulled on you? Think it would look suspicious if he got run over by a jeep? In his barracks?” James winked at Bess/

“Ha, just say you made a wrong turn.” Bess chuckled, but her smile quickly faded into a sigh.

She speared a potato with her fork, looking at it as if it had the answer to life’s secrets like a magic eight ball. Maybe all she needed to do was turn potato over and around until it revealed her fate. Sadly, no messages turned up, and she laid it back on her plate. 

“Thing is, I knew he had other girlfriends. I just wished he’d called and canceled our plans instead of leaving me hanging to find out another way. The most humiliating way.”

“Maybe he couldn’t get away to call? Or forgot your number? Have you seen him at all?”

Bess shook her head, sipping her drink again. “Uh uh. But I’ve been avoiding him. What am I supposed to say? It hurt my feelings that you put the kibosh on our night together for a pajama party with one of your steady girlfriends?“ Her eyes met James. “But, uh, he knows my number, though. He called that Monday, after she left town. And several other times.”

“What did he say?”

“I don’t know, I have Kay on switchboard duty. She has strict instructions to inform male callers that I’m not home.”

“You oughta talk to him, honey, let him have it.”

“I’d rather not, I  - I, it was, uh. The whole thing felt so icky, I never want to feel that way again. It took me back to last summer and Be. Except, this time, I’m the other woman and I know all about his girlfriend back in Memphis.” Bess put down her fork, unable to eat anymore.  “I think my picker is broken, James. I’m destined to be alone.”

“But are you supposed to be alone in Helsinki?”

“I’m actually excited to be single in Helsinki.” James raised his eyebrows. “What? The city is is pretty hip!They just hosted the Olympics. Lots of people live there from all over the world. After Berlin, it is one of the top hubs for working with the Ruskies.”

“Ok, ok, I get it, you hussy, you’ll probably be able to play patty cake with an assortment of good looking European men. I just can’t believe you are abandoning me, it’s so selfish. I’m almost ready to swear I’ll never buy another Presley record.”

“I’m not leaving because of him!” Bess huffed at the way James arched his eyebrow higher and straightened her napkin over her skirt. Aggressively. “I swear, how many times do I have to tell you, he’s just helped me get the perspective I needed. The straw that broke the camel’s back. I gotta get out of this place before I wind up like Mabel.”

 James sniffed as he motioned to the waiter. “Mabel seems happy, could be worse.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not. But you might be out of here before me. I only just sent in my application materials, you know how these civilian posts can be. If I make the first cut, I still have to do a round of phone interviews,an in-person one, a thorough background check. Why, I probably won’t head out until the summer. If I get it.”

James quirked his mouth and whistled when they stood to leave and shook his head.

“Seems like such a waste to store all your resources behind a desk. Should be out, serving our country at USO shows.”

Bess slapped James shoulder, then straightened his jacket, smoothing her hand over his medals.

“Jameson, stop. Do you talk to the debutantes back in Rhode Island like this? You know, half the officers in here are probably my father’s spies. Keep whistling at me like that, they’ll convince him we’re an item.” She grabbed her purse and put her gloves back on. “Besides, I am not exactly the type who likes performing or attention.:

He looked her over once again, making an exaggerated show of appreciation for the way that Bess’ smart tweed pencil skirt hugged her hips.

“Oh, but that’s what makes you such a knockout, Bessie Girl. Why don’t we get married, huh? We could travel the world together, life would never be boring. We’d have great looking, smart kids.”

Bess put her finger to James’ lips, looking into the hazel eyes that glimmered below his perfectly coiffed honey blonde hair.

“I wish I could. I can’t marry someone I don’t love, not in the way I love you anyway.It’s no good, we’d end up ruining our friendship.”

James slid his arm through Bess’ as he led them out of the officer’s club. “I suppose you’re right, Schwartz, but if you ever get desperate and want to be married to a dashing officer who’d never leave you for another woman, the offer stands.”

“This is no time to be getting married, Jameson. I’m sure you’ll want to enjoy the local flavor in Heidelberg.”

“Hmm, yeah, no matter the gene pool, it’s gotta be better than this dump.”

Bess smoothed her hair once they were outside and turned to James. He looked so handsome in his dashing officer’s uniform, cap under his arm. He was probably the best looking, wealthiest man to ever propose to her, even in jest. She really would miss him once they left Fort Hood. Bess gripped James arm tighter before they parted, and smiled.

“No kidding, I can’t wait to put Fort Hood and Elvis and everything in my rear view mirror. Get a fresh start in gorgeous, romantic Helsinki-town, city of dreams.”

“I thought that was Paris?”

“Nope, pretty sure it’s Helsinki.  Though I understand why you’re confused, Helsinki is the Paris of the Baltic Sea.”

“No one calls it that.”

“Sure they do, I’m starting it now.”

James smiled, fixing his uniform cap back on his head. “Ha, ok. Well, as they say in Helsinki, au revoir.”

*********************************************

Bess’ fresh start suddenly seemed a million miles away when she glimpsed Elvis Presley running round the base. It had only taken a few minutes after she got into her father’s Oldsmobile before she recognized Elvis’ tall, perspiring figure jogging around the circular track behind the PX. There he was, in his sweat-soaked tee-shirt, dog tags jingling over his chest, running towards them in the dusk of sunset. 

It struck her for a moment how odd it was for the drill sergeants to have him do laps out here on the road near the gate instead of closer to the 37th tank division. They must be making a public example of him, she thought, having him do laps out here as people drive past on a main road out of the base. 

It was working, he looked absolutely miserable and exhausted. The cold grimace he had fixed on his face pulled on Bess’ heartstrings, and she felt a compulsory urge to go comfort him. But then she remembered why she’d cut him loose, and nodded to herself, reaffirming how wise she was protecting herself from further heartache. It wasn’t easy. 

She got so captivated watching him take off his cap and wipe his forehead as they got closer, that she suddenly realized he was about to run by her car and had to quickly duck down flat against the bench seat to avoid being seen.

“Ilsa, whatever are you doing?”

Bess popped up with a squeak, looking over her shoulder at Elvis’ figure running away behind them, then stuttered to her father. “I, um, I dropped my lipstick on the floor is all, Papa.” 

Dinner was pleasant enough. Mama served tuna noodle casserole and followed it with a cherry cream cheese jello mold. It was comforting to Bess to think these were recipes any other family on the block might be eating tonight. Though she doubted whether the other mothers were wearing a matching red dress and explaining the deep meaning behind the color red, and how powerful color it is, one that can provide all the strength and nourishment they needed. Bess did concede that cherry Jell-O tasted like what she thought the color red might taste like. 

And if a lecture on the spiritual nature of red Jell-o was the most occult Mama got tonight, then tonight was a good night. 

After eating, Bess changed into a more comfortable, simple light blue house dress, and was trying to calculate how long it had been since Mama had one of her episodes as she walked downstairs, when she heard Kay on the phone.

“Well, no Rex, I guess I’m not doing anything. Well, sure, gee whiz, yeah, I know a few friends who’d flip their lids at the chance. You bet, meet you there at 8!”

Bess turned the corner at the bottom of the landing, and gripped the polished circular handrail as Kay spun around with a wide, beaming grin. Her sister halted suddenly and tripped forward with a gasp when she caught Bess’s stare.

“Was that Elvis’ bunk mate, Rex?”

Kay gulped. “Mhmmm, I did like you told me, and said you - you weren’t home.”

Bess crossed her arms. “So what, now you’re going out with them?”

“Well, I - he - I heard Elvis tell him to invite me and any other friends to meet them at the movie theatre on post. It’s, it’s, not a date, it’s a group-like thing.”

Bess took a deep sigh. Miles Davis wafted out from behind the closed door of their father’s office at the back of the house, and she could hear her mother doing the dishes. Bess had come down to help clean up, and had planned to spend her Friday evening at home. She thought she might read or watch TV, play a game of gin rummy with Mama. Anything to take her mind off of Elvis. And now here her sister was, running out to go meet him!

“I cannot believe he invited you out.”

“And why is that? You’re not the only charming, good looking girl around here, Bess.”

“That’s not what I was saying, Kay. What kind of guy invites out the sister of a girl - a girl - a girl he’d been riding around with? You aren’t seriously thinking of going? What about Dickie?”

“It’s not like that. Cuz,  - it’s - it’s not a date. Why, they’re getting a gang together. Rex said I should bring some other girls. I’m about to call Carol and Tracy. If you think I’m gonna deprive them of the chance to meet Elvis Presley, you got another thing coming. Why, you always keep him all to yourself.” Kay huffed, and put her hands on her hips. “It’s not a date. You could come if you wanted, you know.”

Bess squeezed her hands into tight fists, squelching her sudden intense desire to slap her sister.

“You know exactly why I won’t be doing that, I told you how things went with him and you are smart enough to know he is probably doing this to upset me. And you’re helping him! My own sister. Kay Brutus Schwartz.”

Kay’s face fell, and she met Bess in the middle of the hallway. “It’s not like that at all. Please don’t be mad, Bess, but me and my friends, we have all his albums. You can’t hold it against me for wanting to go. It’s not like I asked, he - ” 

Bess brushed Kay’s hand from her shoulder and stomped off in a huff, her anger powered her through an incredibly fast cleaning session in the kitchen.

Mama dried the last plate Bess handed her, then put her arms around Bess at the sink. “See, Bessie baby, all that red Jell-o gave you the energy and focus you needed. I’ll get you some red silk underwear for your new job, I saw some in the Montgomery Ward catalog. Or were they red flannel long johns? Well, you’ll need both in Helsinki.” 

*********************************************

Bess had frowned as Kay traipsed out the door to meet her friends when Carol pulled up in her mother’s yellow DeSoto. At first she took her book upstairs and sat at the window, watching for Kay’s return around 10 p.m. 

By 10:30, she had moved to the porch, where she sat up on the bench hugging her knees and trying to read while she waited to catch her sister and pump her for information outside where their parents wouldn’t hear them. 

Yawning, she was just straightening the bows on her white house slippers when she turned to see a car pulling up in front of the house. But this was not Carol’s mother’s yellow DeSoto. It was a white Cadillac. And she made the mistake of looking up long enough to note the row of guys in the back seat and make eye contact with Elvis as he parked.

Fuck, Bess muttered to herself staring back into her book, unable to focus her eyes on any of the words. In her periphery, she watched Elvis jump out and race around the front of his car, loosely putting his arm around a giddy, smiling Kay as he walked her up the path to the front porch. 

Bess took a deep breath, accepting that there was nothing she could do, that she was stuck out here with her hair in a messy bun wearing a house dress and slippers. So, she braced herself and stood to confront the most famous man in the world. 

The cool night air was no comfort to the heated temper rising in her chest as Elvis walked up the stairs in front of her, his fingers now spread over Kay’s shoulder. His eyes narrowed, and a smirk played over his face.

“Hellooooo there Bess, ain’t you sweet, coming out here to greet me.”

“Hmmmm.” Bess nodded, curtly, exhaling at Kay’s sheepish grin.

“Well, I enjoyed our date tonight, Kitty Kat, didju?” He gave Kay’s shoulder a rub and Kay laughed nervously at his nickname, glancing back at Bess as she untangled herself from Elvis’ grip.

“Oh, well, it was a gas to meet you and the whole gang,” Kay made a show of waving at the car, “Tell Rex thanks for the Coke and candy.”

Elvis ran his hand through his hair.“Uh, well, I wudda bought you all the Cokes you wanted, I just -”

Bess interrupted him. “Let me guess, you forgot your wallet?”

 “Yeah, guess that’s happened before.” Elvis chuckled. 

“Ahem, Kitty Kat is it?” Bess raised her eyes at her sister. “Probably time you were in bed, little girl. I have a few words I need to have with your date, here.”

Kay coughed and avoided Bess’ intense look of death as she thanked Elvis for a fun night. He grabbed her hand, making eye contact with Bess over Kay’s shoulder and he hugged her sister and gave her a soft peck on the cheek. Kay hung in his embrace for several beats, then scuttled away to leave Elvis with Bess’s cool stare

“You have some nerve.”

Elvis took a step toward her, “Aw, Bess, now see, when you act like this it makes me think you still like me.”

“Is that ri-ight?” Her voice wavered as he took a step toward her with his shoulders back, head forward, rubbing the back of his neck. She stumbled back a few steps, distracted by the way his eyes pierced her from under his eyebrows.

“See, you actin’ like ya jealous, honey. But you ain’t playin’ fair.“

“Really. I don’t play fair?”

“Uh uh.” Now he was hovering over her, backing her into the front of the house, his lower lip hanging open as he leaned over her. “You play hot one day, then cool the next. Won’t take my calls, but now ya jealous. Playin’ games s’what it is, and I can’t stand chicks who play games.”

“Ha!” Bess had meant her declaration to be a lot more forceful than how it came out as a muffled breath into the dark, red fisherman’s sweater Elvis was wearing. Of course! Of course his sweater was red. It sucked all Bess’ strength right out of her. And her resolve. She tried for dear life to hang on to the painful embarrassment that had punched her in the gut when she met Anita.

“You’re - you’re - you had - you’re the one who -”

Elvis’ hand was at her waist, and his thumb pressed over her belly button.

“Sshhh. I know, I missed our date.”

Bess mumbled toward her shoes. “Well, I wouldn’t call a party in a cheap motel room a date by any me-“

Elvis’ pursed his lips in a grin as he brought his other hand to Bess’ cheek, his eyes gleaming as she shivered in him. He tilted her chin to meet his eyes. Bess tried to shake him off, but couldn’t, she was spellbound by the pair of dark blue eyes above her. 

She reminded herself that there was an audience of grown men watching them from his back seat. Then she thought she saw the curtain at the front window ripple and realized Kay was probably leaning against the wall inside, spying on them. She thought about how Elvis had invited her sister out, at the very least to get her attention, or at worst, to make her jealous. She thought about how she had sworn to her best friend hours ago that she never wanted to see Elvis Presley again. She tried to grasp at all these things and more as Elvis stepped closer to her, and shifted his arm over her against the wall. But suddenly thinking was very difficult. Elvis’ thumb circled the button at the waist of her cotton house dress.

“OK, ok,well, when you say it like that, sounds awful. Definitely weren’t no date. Still, Kitty Kat told me how upset you’ve been. And I know I shudda called you.” Elvis took a deep breath, and coughed. “ And, well, that gal came down and surprised the hell outta me, is what happened. I didn’t invite her, now that’s the god’s honest truth. But, well, put me in an awful bind and I couldn’t get away to call you. Wudda much rather spent the weekend with you, Moo Moo.”

His breath was warm on her neck, and the way he murmured her nickname was like a sultry saxophone solo. Bess closed her eyes as it rolled over her body, giving her goosebumps. His whisper was full of vulnerable need and Bess couldn’t believe that she actually felt bad for him, as if she were to blame for everything.

“I - I - I’m sorry.”

“Nah, honey, I reckon, if I’m honest with ma self,  you have every right to be sore at me. But you havta give a man the chance to defend hisself. Tell me now, don’t a man deserve a chance to splain?”

There was his thumb, gliding over the front of her stomach, rubbing back and forth.

“Really, I wasn’t trying to play games.”

“I know, Moo Moo. I know’d you weren’t really like that, else I wouldn’t be here.” He leaned in, pressing his open lips to the corner of her jaw, soft and delicate as he continued his whispers. “Though I don’t know if I could stay away even if you were the devil, baby. Ain’t been able to stop thinking about you.” His mouth was warm on her neck. “You, and only you.”

His touch sent a wave of feverish heat through her body, and Bess didn’t care if he was lying, all she knew was that she would willingly go back to his motel room with him right now in her flimsy white house slippers and all. However, before she could make that suggestion, she heard the front door open and she jumped up instantly, pushing Elvis away at the sight of her father’s silhouette in the dim porch light.

“Elizabeth, it’s cold out tonight. Why don’t you invite your guest inside?”

Bess swallowed hard, glancing up at Elvis, whose cool demeanor and friendly smile belied the fingers she could see tapping against his thigh through his pocket. She looked out at the car, then up at the dark sky, shaking her head to herself.

“ Hi Papa, this is, uh - ”

Elvis stood up straight and jerked his hand out as he strode to shake her father’s hand.

“Uh, good evening, Sir, I’m Elvis, Elvis Presley.”

“Yes, I’ve been expecting to meet you for some time now.” Bess’ mouth dropped open. Before she could find the words to protest, her father was putting his arm around Elvis and guiding him inside. “I understand you and Ilsa have been spending a lot of time together, jah?”

*********************************************

“Can I pour you a whiskey?” The table lamp flickered as Bess’ father walked by, his calm words trailed behind him on his way to the bar. 

Elvis sat at the edge of the couch patting his hand to a silent rhythm and then bouncing up again to pace over to the hi-fi set.

“Naw, jus a Pepsi - or a Big Red, honey.” Bess glared at him as he looked up at her from where he perched in front of the record player. “Bessie. I mean, Eliz-a-bess.”

Bess frowned as Elvis popped open the concealed door in the sound system’s speakers and proceeded to rifle through her father’s LP collection. Her father arched his eyebrow, muttering in German that the boy seemed to know his way around and feel quite at home, jah? Bess was asking Rex and Lamar what they wanted when Mama floated into the living room, swaying the skirt of her red dress back and forth, a dreamy look in her face. Bess froze, looking around the room, then scuttling over to her mother and latching her arm around Mama’s waist, whispering in her ear.

“Mama - Hi Mama, I thought you went upstairs to relax?”

The boys all stood up as Mama patted Bess on the shoulder. “Bess, you’re making the lamps all buzzy, stop buzzing around and introduce me to your friends.”

Bess sighed and then froze when Elvis walked over and took her mother’s hand, kissing the top.

“Evening, ma’am, I’m Elvis, Elvis Presley, s’a pleasure to meet you, I can see where your daughters get their good looks from, if you don’t mind me saying so.”

Mama giggled and blushed. “Ha, well, you are charming. The faeries told me Bessie had a new beau, but they didn’t say he was handsome.” Bess’ face went white as she tried to guide her mother to the big orange leather chair in the corner, but Mama swatted her hands away. “Bess, I said to quit fussin’. Go get our guests something to drink.”

Every cell in Bess’ body was on high alert, and she rubbed at her throat trying quell the nauseous, tight feeling that now plagued her stomach. Bess had not brought Ben, her former fiancee, home to meet her family until he had asked her to marry him. At that point, they had already been going steady for two months, she had trusted Ben completely and had given him a thorough debriefing on Mama and the family dynamics. She had known Elvis a month. ANd spent the last two weeks hating him.

Elvis returned her mother’s hand and flashed Bess a warm, crooked reassuring smile. Rex and Lamar gathered next to him making their awkward introductions, before Papa walked over and offered Mama his hand, tilting his head at Kay. 

“Come sit with me, Emily, let the boys relax. Katherine, you get the drinks.”

Bess followed Kay into the hall. “I’ll get it, Kay, I -uh - I was gonna make Mama a special cup of tea - “

“I got it, I know how to do it. You go back in there.” Kay winked, and left Bess to sigh as she took a deep breath and resigned herself to face whatever was waiting for her in the living room.

Elvis sat on the edge of the couch trying to stop his knee from bopping up and down with the palm of his hand, already in conversation with Bess’ father.

“Jah, I started off in the German division, but now I oversee all intelligence training.”

Elvis’ eyes widened and he seemed grateful to see Bess walk back into the room and hit Lamar to clear the seat next to him on the couch. Bess shook her head and sat at the piano bench, trying to think of how to change the subject.

“Papa, I imagine the boys are tired after a long week and - “

“Oh Bessie, don’t send them away!” Mama waved her off as she got up and happily plopped into the clear spot next to Lamar, shooting Bess a playful frown. “You never bring friends over any more, it’s a breath of fresh air having young people over. Want any leftover tuna noodle casserole?”

A momentary grimace passed over Elvis’ face as he declined, and Bess' father coughed.

“Too bad we don’t have any meatloaf, perhaps zat would have suited you better.”

“Actually, mister, I’m bout plumb fed up with meatloaf, EP’s been ordering - “ Lamar stopped talking at the sight of Elvis’ eyebrow, arched in warning. 

“Well, Bess makes a great meatloaf, you boys will have to come back for dinner sometime. I’ll get her to cook it up for you.” Mama bowed her head with certainty as she spoke, turning Elvis’ hand over in her lap as if to read his fortune. “Elvis, such an unusual name. What does it mean?”

“Ugh, well, ma’am.” Elvis scooted back against the arm rest, turning in to face Bess’ mother more directly. “I have been told it means someone who is uh, very wise.” He winked over at Bess as she rolled her eyes. Kay returned, and she bounced up to assist in handing out the drinks. 

“I’ve never heard the name Elvis before tonight, is it common where you’re from?”

Lamar gasped. “You never heard ‘a Elvis?”

“No, why, should I? Do you all work with Henry in Intel?” 

Elvis shook his head. “No, no ma’am, Rexadus here and I, well, we’re new recruits, and Lamar right here is jus’ a ole friend of mine, visiting.”

Mama smiled big. “Oh, well, if you think I would have heard of you from Bess, you have another thing coming. She’s a sphinx, that one, never tells me anything about anything.I have to get all my gossip from the wind.”

“Elvis is a famous performer, mama. They’re surprised you’ve never heard of him because he is on the radio. And the movies.”

“Oh, is that true? Would I know any of your music?”

Just then, the phone in Papa’s office began to ring and he stood up to excuse himself, muttering in German that he would hardly call it music. Bess exhaled a chuckle at the curious look on Elvis’ face. 

“I’m guessing that weren’t a rousin’ endorsement from ya daddy,huh ?”

She shook her head, and Mama clucked.

“Oh, Henry didn’t get enough red food tonight, don’t mind him. You know, you’re not the first song and dance man I’ve met. When I was a girl - “

“-I met Eddie Cantor when he sang at Zeyde’s theatre on Coney Island.” Bess and Kay exclaimed in unison with a grin.

Bess relaxed as the room filled with warm laughter and she almost felt like they were a normal family, teasing and chiding each other as they entertained guests.

“Oy, well, it’s true, you boys have heard of Eddie Cantor, haven’t you?” Mama grinned at their nods, and took it as her cue to keep talking between sips of tea. “Well, I was just a kid when he was first making it big in New York. And my father had this vaudeville theater, and we met all sorts of acts working their way up the circuit. Baby Rose Marie, Bert WIlliams, Jimmy Durante, and, of course, a lot of nobodies trying to be somebodies. Eddie was probably the most successful guy to come through our place. Boy, was he handsome! Tall, dark hair, those big gorgeous eyes, like two rounds of chocolate.”

“Mama, zey ton nisht veln tsu hern vegn deyn shule meydl krashiz.”

“Oh, Bess thinks I shouldn’t share these things. She thinks I’m an old lady, that I don’t have blood pulsing in my veins. But I’ve always appreciated a good looking man.” Mama patted Elvis' knee. “Still do.” Then all of a sudden she swayed into Elvis' shoulder, her eyelids fluttering before she slumped on his shoulder.

“Ma’am? Ya ok? I’ve had girls swoon before, though they usually heard a me.”

Bess jumped up and looked over at her sister. “How much did you put in her tea, Kay?”

“Just a tablespoon.”

“It’s supposed to be a teaspoon!” Bess growled through clenched teeth as she felt her mother’s pulse, and tried to unfurl her mother’s arm from around Elvis’ shoulder.

“I’ll take her up - “

“Aw, honey - s’ok, want me to - “

“ - Well, it was an easy mistake.” Kay hovered behind Bess, and stomped her foot.

Mama’s eyelids fluttered back open for a moment and she looked up into Elvis' face. “You know, you have a beautiful aura, Alvis, I can tell you are a good person - Bess, if you don’t marry him, I will.” 

Bess gulped, and looked at Kay. “Help me get her up the stairs?”

Before they could do anything, Elvis lifted Mama and nodded at Bess. “Jus lead the way, ‘k Bess honey? Boys, y’all go on out to the car, and we’ll get outta ya hair ‘fore you say lickety splickety.” 

Lamar sighed with relief and could not get through the hallway fast enough, almost knocking the telephone off the little desk as he passed. Rex, however, hung back, gathering up the bottles of pop and taking them to the kitchen behind Kay, looking back to nod at Elvis in a silent offer to help. Elvis shook his head and followed Bess up the stairs.

“Alright, now, Mrs. Schwartz, ma’am, ya gonna be snug as a bug in a rug, jus you wait.”

Elvis set Mama down in her bed carefully, gently taking her hands and placing them at her sides. Mama opened her eyes and trailed her fingers over the sharp edge of Elvis' crew cut, smiling dreamily as she asked “Almond” if he would marry her.

“Ya so sweet and beautiful, I would, I would  if I could, ma’am.”

Tears welled up behind Bess’ eyes as she watched the tender way Elvis kissed her mother’s cheek and squeezed her hand before she passed out. They exchanged a long look, and Bess blushed.

“I’m sorry you had to see all this, I’m so embarrassed. You didn’t have to stay and help me - “

Elvis rubbed her shoulder. “Honey, I wanted to help, I like helping folks. Ain’t nuthin to be shamed of. Really Moo Moo, wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to. An getting to spend my night with the prettiest lil gal in town, why, that’s just the icing on the cake.” His face scrunched into a big grin as he held her, and bess nodded into the comfy wook of his red sweater.

Elvis stood in the doorway, watching curiously as Bess took off her mother’s shoes and tucked her under the large, homemade victory quilt that they had sewn from old clothes during the war. It was the only blanket Mama would sleep with, and for Bess, it evoked that time in her childhood when Papa was overseas doing things he couldn’t talk about and Mama was the strongest woman she could imagine. 

Now, as she looked down at her mother and smoothed hair out of her face, it was Mama who resembled a little girl, finally relaxed and at ease as she started to snore. Her sleeping face free from the cares and mysteries of the world. Bess kissed her mother on the forehead, and turned to find Elvis waiting for her in the doorway. His blue eyes seemed to penetrate her soul, as his thumb rubbed the side of her shoulder.

“Holdin’ it all together, ain’t ya Moo Moo. I see you. I really do.” 

Bess shuddered at his touch, wiping the side of her eyes.

“I, um, I. Well, you caught us on a bad night, Almond.”

He chuckled, drawing her into his arms and kissing the top of her forehead.

“Nah, ain’t nothing bad about anything.” The sides of his crinkled as he smirked. “Almond, huh. maybe ya mama there is on to sumpin. Might sell more records and movie tickets if I changed my name to Almond instead. Tell you what, wudda made it harder for the Army to find me.”

“Yes.” She took his hand and led him back down the stairs.”Though you would have missed out on your freel vacation here at beautiful Fort Hood.” 

They were back on her porch, and Elvis was clasping her hand tight. He looked out at the darkness, and at his car on the street, then over the garden, before turning back to hover over Bess, hands resting at her waist.

“Wudda missed out on meeting you, honey. Ya my silver lining. Tonight, being here with you, I know it now for certain that fate brought us together.”

Bess turned her head to listen to the crickets, wondering if they had any advice on how to defy fate. Especially when fate distracted you from all common sense by nuzzling your forehead. 

“Elvis - I - “

His lips were at her ear as he drew her closer. “Aw, Moo Moo, I cain’t bear to think I made you cry. I mean it.” His thumbs rolled up and down Bess’ sides. ”I promise, ain’t ever let that happen again. I swear. Cuz I need ya, honey, been thinking ‘bout you all the time.”

Bess couldn’t resist the way his eyes lit up with hopeful vulnerability, it made her feel like she was the one who had wronged him by withdrawing her company from him. 

“I  - I think about you too.” She cupped his cheek. “I’ve seen you doing laps every evening, are you doing okay?”

Elvis huffed and pinched her side. “Oh, yeah, you know me. Every morning, those drill sergeants find a reason to be cross at me, makin’ me do extra PT. But ain’t nothin I can’t handle.”

Bess nodded. Then Elvis’ hands tightened all the way around her, constricting her so tight she almost couldn’t breath, before parting with a soft, chaste farewell kiss and a vague promise to call her the next day.

Bess was humming to herself as she turned off the porch light and locked the door behind her, stopping short when she saw her father come out of his office.

“Everything ok, Papa?’

“Jah, jah. That was just the secure line, a call from D.C.” He straightened his sweater, coughing as he took in the dim quiet of their house. “Ze hound dog has run off, I take it?”

“He’s not so bad, you know.” Bess shifted and looked at her feet, unable to stop the smile at the corner of her mouth. “The drill sergeants have really had it out for him this last week. He’s been running extra PT and they put him on latrine duty. Must have pissed off the wrong person.”

Bess stopped talking, noticing that her father’s face had soured into a tight grimace. She had probably been right not to tell her parents that she had been seeing Elvis. This would be tough, now there was nothing she could do now.

“Jah, that boy did piss off the wrong person. Me. You would be wise to cut your ties with him, Elizabeth, he does not respect women. And you have a bright future ahead of you. I might expect Katherine to be dazzled by this flash of Memphis. But you are too smart for all that. I would hate to see you lose focus on your goals to run around with a boy who brings his hoochie coochie girlfriends to town and flaunts them in your face.” 

Bess was silent as her father pursed his lips, nodding, then said good night. She listened to the sound of his footsteps as he walked up stairs, her mind racing as she tried to figure out how he had found out about Elvis. About the debacle with Anita. About all of it. 

The disappointment she had seen in her father’s eyes crushed her, and Bess tossed and turned in her bed all night trying to figure out how she could make him understand that she could have fun and still go after her goals. It was the thought of Elvis’ long thumbs caressing her body that finally calmed her down. The memory of his touch was like her own personal dose of benzodiazepine, it made her forget all her problems and give herself over to the sandman.

********************************************************************

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[jadagul]

I'm sorry if this is a stupid question. Why is it harder for larger countries to have citizens with a high median level of wealth? What makes it harder for a country with the US population vs, say, Japan? I can imagine obvious challenges, but also reasons why larger countries can make their median citizen wealthier more easily. Economies of scale, more chances for innovation that can later be widely adopted, strong institutions having outsized effects. Can you help me understand the logic more?

It's not a stupid question! It's a common but incredibly counterintuitive thing that comes up in statistical comparisons. The short version is: you get more variance with small samples than with large samples.

To start off, let's point out this isn't just theoretical. According to the IMF, the twelve highest GDPs per capita are in this chart:

(If you use a different source the numbers change somewhat but not dramatically so.)

If you rank countries by population, those are rank 122, 163, 118, 134, 162.5, 95, 99, 115, 3, 191, 169, and 103.5. The US is in position 3 and the next-highest is at 95 (out of about 200).

Conversely let's look at the ten most populous nations:

When ranked by GDP per capita, those come out at ranks 73, 127, 8, 98, 138, 144, 87, 128, 56, and 71.

And notice already this looks different: these numbers are mostly in like the middle half, whereas the others were almost all in the bottom half. And that makes sense based on the theoretical argument I'm about to make.

A big country has a lot of people in it. And more than that, it has a lot of places in it. And while those places all have a bunch of stuff in common (like being part of the same country), they also have a bunch of things different from each other. So you can think of the per capita GDP of a big country as, like, averaging together the per capita GPDs of all the regions in it. (And then the per capita GDP of a region is a weighted average of the incomes of all the people in it.)

If you look at a city-state like Singapore or Hong Kong, you're "averaging" together one city. And for a small country like Ireland or Luxembourg, you're averaging one city with a small amount of hinterlands. That means that if that one city is unusually lucky, the whole country is rich.

(And if that one city is unusually unlucky, the whole country is poor. The ten least populated countries on the list that have IMF data have GDP per capita ranks of 146, 119, 95, 9, 152, 60, 106, 16, 134, 52, which are all over the map. None of them are at the very bottom, and I assume that's because cities are richer than non-cities, in general. And also maybe a city-state that's also dirt poor gets swallowed up.)

And if you look at our list of richest countries, you can really see this effect. Ireland is a tax haven for the EU, and traditionally so is San Marino. Singapore is a weirdly-managed outlier city state, as is San Marino (and Hong Kong used to be). Qatar and the UAE are all drafting off of oil revenue, and for that matter so is Norway.

And to drive the point home, let's look at the list of US metro areas by per capita GDP.

San Jose beats every country in the world hollow. San Francisco is tied with the top entries on the list. And our tenth-richest metro area would place fifth on the list of countries by per capita gdp. (Contrast Paris at €60 and Berlin at like €42k, if my quick googling is right.)

And then to drive the point home, look at the top of the list. The richest metro area in the US isn't San Francisco or New York or Los Angeles (which at 18th and $86k doesn't even show up on that list up there, but would still put it at 8th in the world); the richest metro area in the US is some place called Midland TX. It's a small town that sits in the middle of a giant oil field, and as I understand it it's basically a base camp for all the oil work out there. So it has one thing going on, and that thing is super lucrative, and distributed across relatively few people; so it gets the top spot.

And that's why the richest countries are likely to be small.

[mapsontheweb]

Warmest Day of the Year in the US

The June values in New Mexico, Arizona, and Texas reflect the impact of the North American Monsoon, a period of increased rainfall affecting the U.S. Southwest. Because these areas tend to be cloudier and wetter from July through September, the temperature is highest on average in June. For example, the warmest day of the year in Terlingua, TX is June 11th. Conversely, the persistence of the marine layer along the Pacific Coast leads to cool temperatures in early summer, with the warmest days on average occurring as late as October. In fact, daily high temperature normals peak on October 2 in San Francisco.

[wishcamper]

Gone Baby Gone: birth control and the ethics of risky sex

CW: abortion, sexual violence.

Creds: licensed counselor with expertise in addiction, trauma, and gay stuff. Experience with tx exclusively for pregnant people and young parents with addictions.

Okay class! Today we’ll be talking about abortion oh my god don’t run away I’ll make it worth your while I promise.

Firstly, a disclaimer: I’m not interested in debating whether abortion should be legal/allowed/is moral or immoral. The research bears out, unequivocally, that access to comprehensive reproductive and family planning options improves everyone’s lives (1). And again, not actively anti-SJM or any characters, just exploring themes and what they say about us.

It’s so funny to me that NO one liked the pregnancy plot line in ACOSF, whether they love or hate or are indifferent (me) to Rhysand. And I think that’s because we, the largely femme audience engaging with the material, recognize the strings of violence weaved into it, possibly not even consciously but on a deep, bodily, instinctual level.

The 2007 crime drama Gone Baby Gone centers on a conversation about motherhood, parenting fitness, and what society owes to children. Beneath that though, and I believe unintentionally, is another story about pregnancy-capable people’s autonomy and the cycle of oppression around reproductive rights.

I’m going to spoil the movie for you - I don’t want you to watch it because Casey Affleck is a creep, and it’s not that good anyway. There’s a whole mystery plot, but the basics are: drug addict Helene’s daughter Amanda is kidnapped, then later thought to be killed but they never find her body. Casey Affleck, Boy Detective uncovers a scheme by two rogue cops to fake Amanda’s death and kidnap her because they think Helene isn’t a good mom. And they’re kind of right; once Amanda comes home, Helene is an incredibly neglectful mother, and the movie wants you to go woahhh, maybe those murdering unethical cops were right after all!

Sure, Jan.

The movie ends with the lead character wondering if Helene, for whom he’s literally killed people to bring her child back, is even fit to raise Amanda in the first place, even interested. And here’s where I feel complicated, because on one hand - yes, this is your child, and she’s completely innocent in all this and doesn’t deserve abuse and neglect. AND what were this women’s other options? Does anyone ask? Living in deeply Catholic working class Boston, did she have access to birth control? Could she have gotten an abortion? Would her culture (and her internalization of it) even allow her to entertain that option? Could she perhaps be using substances because of the circumstances of her life over which she has no control? (See Nesta, Interrupted for more on that.)

So I ask myself: what does it mean in our culture, as a person who can become pregnant, to have sex with someone who can impregnate you? What happens when your body becomes the battlefield on which larger conflicts are played out?

I’ve been thinking on these question a lot recently because my IUD is about to expire and my doctor recommended a back up method while I wait to get a new one. This has prompted my husband and me go farther into the kids conversation and consider not just what it would mean for me to get pregnant on purpose or accidentally, but what it would mean for me to get pregnant here. Where we live, abortion is technically legal but functionally impossible to find. Even for a wanted pregnancy, if it became life-threatening I might have extremely limited options.

This makes any sex inherently risky for me. IUDs failure rates range from 0.3% to 2.3%, but that still means as few as 3 in 1000 and as many as 2-3 in 100 users still get pregnant. And IUDs significantly raise the likelihood of medically dangerous pregnancies if a fetus is conceived (2). The long odds are somewhat comforting, but if I were to have an ectopic or other life-threatening pregnancy complication, I can’t trust that my local doctors would be able to save my life, legally. 

And we have talked about how we both feel strongly: it’s my life first. My husband says he would rather have me, and he would rather any children of ours have me, too. And there’s this sort of sick sense of gratitude I feel, because that is, to me, the only answer, but it feels like such a kindness nonetheless.

So we get to ACOSF (you forgot this was about ACOTAR, right? Me too.). When they decided to start trying to get pregnant, Rhys had to know the risk was there. My boy, you are half Illyrian. Even without Feyre being Mystique, get out your punnet square and do the math. Your baby always had a 25% chance of having wings. Conception was always risky. I refuse to believe he didn’t know that, and it was irresponsible of him to not inform her, a person who only entered his world like two years ago.

Then they conceive a baby with wings that, as far as they know, she has no way of safely delivering. If that’s true, why couldn’t Feyre have an abortion? I’m serious. They found out very early the baby had wings. It’s not unlike an ectopic pregnancy, or even a very small person becoming pregnant. Adolescent mothers (age 10-19) (god it feels gross to type that) are at much higher risk for conditions like eclampsia, endometritis, and systemic infections, not to mention fetal complications (3). Regardless of the details, Feyre’s body is not equipped to handle this pregnancy, and yet they never seem to explore the option of terminating it.

Which begs the question: did Feyre even know abortion was an option? Is it an option in Prythian?

In my opinion, probably. If the fae have contraception (let’s not even get into STDs and the ’they have magical healing’ BS), they must have abortion. The first record of an induced abortion was on an Egyption Papyrus around 1600BC, though the practice likely well predates that. The Ancient Greeks drove a plant to extinction for its abortifacient properties (4). And even when banned, people find ways, because they have to. Reproductive health has long been of importance to pregnancy-capable people for reasons of safety, resources, and survival. 

At the end of the day, Feyre is allowed to carry a pregnancy to term that she knows will kill her. That’s her right to bodily autonomy being exercised freely, and I will never begrudge her that. But imagine if abortion were an open option for her, and she knew the birth would kill her, and then Rhys. Knowing that, what do you think she’d choose? To die, bringing her mate along with her, and leave her child parentless, if they even survive? I really struggle to see that. Feyre loves hard, and knows what it’s like to grow up with extreme neglect. I cannot imagine her condemning a child to the same circumstance she found so damaging. But Rhys doesn’t tell her, forbids anyone else to, and possibly robs her of the ability to terminate the pregnancy. And also Madja, I don’t forgive her either for glossing over it. Girl needs to retake her boards.

In the beginning of my career, I worked at an inpatient substance use treatment center that was specifically for pregnant people and mothers with young children. They were allowed to bring two kids under the age of 5. I could write a million words about the flaws in that place, but it was at least something. In working with these people, the same themes came up over and over:

They wanted to get jobs but couldn’t afford childcare. 

Caring for children kept them isolated from support networks and financially strapped.

The daily maintenance and self-focus of sobriety felt at odds with being responsible for children. Ironically, that neglect of self often created the perfect conditions for relapse.

Children kept them tethered, legally and/or personally to abusive partners.

They received extreme judgment, even while seeking help, for “doing this to their children”.

They did not have adequate access to reproductive autonomy, whether financially, from religious beliefs, or otherwise.

This evidence is purely anecdotal, but I do think it speaks to the larger cycle of covert violence and policing of women and pregnancy-capable people’s bodies. It is well-documented that lack of reproductive freedom has a direct negative effect on mental health and wellbeing of people of child -bearing age (5). There is also a much larger intersection to this conversation when it comes to race, class, and the systemic oppression of people of color via reproductive restriction, but Feyre is privileged in the ACOTAR world for the most part so this doesn’t touch her. She doesn’t have to wonder if she can afford a baby, or if her husband is going to be racially profiled and taken to jail or just straight up murdered by law enforcement. (and this is not to downplay the experiences Rhysand have, that Sarah doesn’t give us, being a mixed race man, more so that he is in an extreme position of power.)

I think it’s a shame we didn’t get to explore this in ACOSF with Cassian and Nesta. They jump in the sack even after learning Nesta’s body could not handle an Illyrian baby. No amount of ‘the monthly aid’ justifies not having an honest and thorough conversation about what having sex means before they sleep together. Cassian must feel real confident in the birth control options of Prythian to be spreading his soldiers around so willy nilly. And I just hope, for all their sakes, that he’s right.

Ibis Reproductive Health and Center for Reproductive Rights, “Evaluating Priorities: Measuring Women’s and Children’s Health and Well-being against Abortion Restrictions in the States,” (2017).

Kim SK, Romero R, Kusanovic JP, Erez O, Vaisbuch E, Mazaki-Tovi S, Gotsch F, Mittal P, Chaiworapongsa T, Pacora P, Oggé G, Gomez R, Yoon BH, Yeo L, Lamont RF, Hassan SS. The prognosis of pregnancy conceived despite the presence of an intrauterine device (IUD). J Perinat Med. 2010;38(1):45-53. doi: 10.1515/jpm.2009.133. PMID: 19650756; PMCID: PMC3418877.

World Health Organization: WHO. (2023, June 2). Adolescent pregnancy. https://www.who.int/news-room/fact-sheets/detail/adolescent-pregnancy#:~:text=Adolescent%20mothers%20(aged%2010%E2%80%9319,birth%20and%20severe%20neonatal%20condition.

Muvs - Abtreibung in der Antike. (n.d.). https://muvs.org/en/topics/termination-of-pregnancy/abortion-in-antiquity-en/

Liu SY, Benny C, Grinshteyn E, Ehntholt A, Cook D, Pabayo R. The association between reproductive rights and access to abortion services and mental health among US women. SSM Popul Health. 2023 May 12;23:101428. doi: 10.1016/j.ssmph.2023.101428. PMID: 37215399; PMCID: PMC10199416.

[pansyboybloom]

Real Queer America: LGBT Stories from Red States, by Samantha Allen - A Review (8 out of 10)

"That's precisely the question we asked ourselves on November 9th. To stay, or not to stay? I found my answer at the top of the pride flag: there's no way of course that the color of its first stripe was a commentary on our geographically divided political climate. Red didn't mean Republican and blue didn't mean Democrat until the year 2000 anyway. Red is simply the first color in the rainbow, not a sign from the cosmos for me personally. But back when Gilbert Baker first designed that now ubiquitous emblem of LGBT rights in 1978 he did want that red stripe to signify life."

Samantha Allen, a reporter, wife, and transgender woman who was raised in Utah amidst the heart of the Mormon Church and left the South and its redness behind after beginning her transition, asked herself the questions that many Americans, especially queer ones, asked themselves after Donald Trump's win in the United States Presidential race in 2016. But, instead of moving out to Canada, Samantha decided to move down. Down to Utah, Texas, Indiana, and other red states that had seemingly made it clear that she and people like her weren't wanted, to answer a question that she couldn't shake:

Why weren't the Southern queers leaving?

"What makes an oasis, an oasis?"

In Real Queer America, Allen snakes through the south to pockets of queer safe havens ranging from queer bars in small rural towns, to LGBT shelters across from Mormon temples, to protests in Austin, TX, and places of safety throughout all of red America, no matter how small

As a Southerner, this book called to me. It was written with love, with the respect that only a Southern queer can give to other Southern queers. Allen examines the parts of the queer South that those outside its borders might struggle to understand, like LGBT youth political groups that work with the Mormon church to secure transgender rights in Utah. The chapter on Utah struck me in particular. I won't pretend to have any good opinions of the Mormon establishment, but the fondness Allen has for the community who raised her, even after it hurt her, is mind-blowing. Hearing from people like an ex-Mormon radical who works hand in hand with the church to secure LGBT safety, a mother who is deeply supportive of her transgender son because of her Mormoness, not despite it, a gay youth rights advocate who stated in the heart of Mormonism out of an unshakable faith in the goodness in the people of Utah, and, most remarkable, a trans man who has been told by the church that, should he continue his medical transition, he would be excommunicated, but chooses to love God anyways.

Of course, another favorite chapter was that on Texas. As a Texan, I am all too familiar with names like Paxton and Abbott, but also Wendy Davis and the Briggle family. Allen shows the Briggle family as human, and continues that humanity into her trek into the Rio Grande Valley, an often forgotten part of the state, demonized by both the North for its poverty and the South for its tie to immigration from Mexico. Allen approaches the complexities of race interacting with queerness with attempted grace, but her analysis seems to fall flat-- something she acknowledges later on, in Indiana, in which she has in-depth conversations with a black trans woman on how while Allen may feel safe holding hands with her wife here, her blackness will forever keep the 'queer eutopia' she lives in from truly being safe.

She tells Allen: "There is a difference, it seems, between an oasis and a eutopia. When you're in a desert, an oasis can be a single well of water in the sand, or in this case, one college town with an incredible queer bar. A watering hole doesn't make the desert safe, it just makes it habitable. Even then, when you arrive at the refuge that is Bloomington, so much of your experience here depends on the identities you bring with you. And eutopias? Well, eutopias don't exist. If they did, every LGBT person in the country would move there, and queer making would end."

Allen also carries some of the uncomfortable, if not plain disheartening, pro-veteran beliefs quintessential to the South, spending a long time speaking in depth with veterans surrounding Trump's trans military ban. She repeatedly references a shirt she saw while at an Austin rally: I fought for your right to hate me. The reverence she holds and the anger she feels for veterans was upsetting at times and showed further Allen's privilege.

Still, Allen's beliefs need not be perfect in a book about how the Northern need for perfection leads to the Southern LGBT community being abandoned. This abandonment is mentioned in the Indiana chapter when discussing Mike Pence and his 'return to religious freedom' act, which lead to North wide economic protests and boycotts-- that affected the queers of Indiana far more economically than it did Pence. It was grassroots organizations and local state fighters that pushed back the collection of bills, and many, like the ones Allen interviewed, felt abandoned by blue states that seemed to care more about protesting through inaction than action.

Grassroots education, safety, activism, and community are a recurring theme in Real Queer America, unsurprising to any rural or Southern queer. One such example is the Back Door, a queer bar-- not gay, but specifically queer, an active choice maybe by the "dyke daddy" of the club-- that serves as a bastion of fun and sex in a rural town, but also as a place to come together and practice activism.

"The 'Back Door' is a perfect example of the red state queer ethos-- that being politically active is a responsibility, not a choice."

Allen stresses one thing above all: community. The queer chosen family, and the queering of friendships, she argues, are just as threatening to the average bigot as her sex life or her gender identity, if not more. Together, Southern queers thrive-- something many Northerns don't see. Allen critiques Northern journalism from her own writing background, citing that Northerners only care about Southern queer lives when a politician is passing a bathroom bill, a gunman is shooting up a night club, or a high school has their first trans homecoming king, not out of a desire to share his joy, but to further stress how backward the South is. Amidst the shared meals with bisexuals in Tennessee, watching the dancing queers of the Back Door, the support groups across from Mormon temples, the protests in Austin, and more, Allen asks the reader, is the most radical thing to do as a queer person to simply live and love? Is living, thriving, fighting together, arm in arm-- is all of this what being queer in the South means? She finds answers in each place she goes, and while I will leave her answer up to the reader, I find her comment when meeting with the trans cafe owner of Allen's college youth to shine clear:

"Watching Rachel run her own small business in south central Indiana was my first vision of a future where I turn out okay."

Please, check to see if your local library or bookstores have Real Queer America before buying on Amazon! Let's support local reading!

[tomorrowusa]

Rep. Colin Allred (D-TX-32) is the Democrat running against Sen. Ted "Cancún" Cruz for US Senate this year.

Rep. Allred visited The Daily Show to talk with Desi Lydic this week.

In addition to reminding viewers of what an embarrassment Cruz is, he talked about Texas Republicans' war against reproductive freedom.

It was mentioned in the conversation that Rep. Allred was the first House member ever to take paternity leave.

He also repeated his support for a two-state solution regarding Israel-Palestine. That position has now become standard among Democrats.

For anybody who would like to help Colin Allred defeat Ted Cruz...

Colin Allred for Senate

BONUS TRACK: Remember when Donald Trump was calling Allred's opponent "Lyin' Ted"? It's now ironic in this clip from 2016 that Trump was making fun of Cruz for waving a Bible around.

[aceflorins]

NEW DAWNTRAIL-ER STICKERS! <3

Link below! <3

[conversesmiles]

To start, let’s define tooth extraction. There are two main types: simple extractions and surgical extractions. Simple extractions performed on teeth which are visible within the mouth. This is often an easy procedure with relatively short recovery. On the other hand, surgical extractions are needed for teeth that have not yet erupted or are impacted, meaning t