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diemannschaftblr · 4 months

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@/iMiaSanMia: Nagelsmann on whether he spoke to former Germany coaches who have tournament experience: "I actually spoke to several coaches, with Jürgen Klinsmann, with Hansi, with Jogi Löw, of course with Rudi, all of those who have already experienced tournaments. But there is no blueprint. The answers were very similar, you have to listen to your gut feeling. You have to react to the here and now. But you also have to have your own experiences. The message from everyone, including national team coaches from other sports: You have to believe in yourself, listen to your gut feeling and go your own way. You have to enjoy it too, we don't want to let ourselves be paralyzed by any kind of pressure. We have to enjoy the moment."

- Nagelsmann: On Thursday, the team will have an event with the Special Operations Command, where the aim is to find a team that has to function absolutely perfectly, that has to have solutions in all situations, that support each other. That is at the forefront when it comes to communication. No mistakes can be made. It's a bit different in football. Nevertheless, I think there are a lot of elements that these men and women can teach us. What it means to communicate perfectly, to protect each other, to be there for each other in tricky situations, when things aren't going so well. To always keep a cool head. To find solutions. I think it will be very, very interesting. I won't be there myself. It's for the players. I'm excited to hear what the team says afterwards.

- on whether Goretzka could still be called up in case of injuries: Nothing is completely ruled out for any player. Of course we would like to have the squad that we nominated in the tournament. I don't want to give anyone false hopes. We hope nobody gets injured. But nothing is ruled out.

- on Thomas Müller: His role is clear, he will get some playing time, even if not always from the start. He introduced Aleks Pavlović [to the DFB staff] which says a lot about him. He's simply a connecting link. He is who he is, and that's a good thing.

- on the injuries: Raum, Leroy, Pavlo and Jamal won't train at 100% this week. We'll try to integrate them partially Wednesday or Thursday. We have to be careful not to go from 0 to 100. They'll take it easy now and hopefully be involved in full training on Friday.

- on the players' focus after the season with their clubs: In the end, the tournament outshines everything, everyone has the same goal, no matter how their season went. I demand everyone to give everything in training, but at the beginning it will be a bit more relaxed. There's no need for many discussions. Everyone will be fully focused. The Euros is the start of the new season, everyone is really looking forward to it. Everyone is excited. When you lose a CL final, it hurts, but you can quickly refocus to have a great tournament.

- on the players who haven't joined yet: The Leverkusen players and Ilkay Gündogan will join us on Wednesday and start training on Thursday. Marc-André ter Stegen will join on Monday. The CL finalists will join on Tuesday next week. We have spoken to all four of them. It's important that all of them are injury-free. From Tuesday onwards we will have a full squad.

- on Reitz and Gruda, who will train with the senior team: Gruda is extremely creative in the final third, a very fine footballer. I'm very excited to see him in training. I hope he has the necessary self-confidence with us. Reitz has had a very good season, is very hard-working. He tries to initiate a lot of attacks. They're here just for training for now, but there's also a chance [to be in the squad], something can always happen. It's a sign for them that they were called up for training.

- on Manuel Neuer's illness: Nothing dramatic. Just a mild gastrointestinal infection. He won't be here before Wednesday, I expect him to join on Thursday. If he's healthy, he will be #1 (at the Euros).

#germany nt #german nt #dfb team #germany mnt #german mnt #julian nagelsmann #leon goretzka #thomas müller #aleksandar pavlovic #david raum #leroy sané #jamal musiala #ilkay gündoğan #marc andré ter stegen #manuel neuer

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where-theres-smoak-2 · 1 year

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The most annoying thing is that the showrunner (and some screenwriters) is very pro crows and doesn't really care about Alina's story, but the show is called "shadow and bone" not the six crows 🙄

I do agree that I think its clear that the showrunner prefers the crows, don't quote me on it but I did hear that originally the showrunner wanted to only adapt the six of crows series but was told to adapt the grisha trilogy along with it so he combined the two. I do think it can sometimes be a bit frustrating that they seem to put more effort and enthusiasm into the crows than the grisha trilogy characters in a show that is titled shadow and bone. But at the same time I do love the crows and I am grateful that they are part of the series as I never would have got to know those characters if they weren't, as I haven't read the six of crows books. I also do get why the writers/showrunners are more into the crows as at the end of the day those books, from what I have heard, are much better written than the grisha trilogy, they don't have as many contradictions and plots that don't really make sense, so I imagine its easier to adapt whereas with the grisha trilogy they had more to fix and change which obviously they are going to prefer the one that needs less work to adapt to the one where they are having to flesh out flat characters and fix plot holes etc, they really did have to change alot to make the shadow and bone side make sense and be appealing to the audience, I mean they had to rewrite M*l's character completely because of how disliked he was in the books, they had to add the west ravkan plotline to make Aleks' actions make sense, they had to give Aleks a backstory and explain how the fold came to be because that was missing completely in the books. So maybe it just came down to its less of a headache to adapt six of crows and so those involved in the process think of it more fondly if that makes sense.

I do think going forward it would be better to spilt the two sets of characters into two shows, especially with all the additions to the cast this season. That way both sets of characters get that breathing room and they can still have crossovers so all the characters can interact and they can keep the stories somewhat linked. I just hope that if we do get a six of crows spin off and a season 3 that they put as much effort and love into the shadow and bone show as the six of crows show. I don't know how they would do it to be honest, whether they will have two crews for both shows or whether each show would get its own crew/writers. I mean they have said that they have already written the scripts for the six of crows show so hopefully that will mean they have the time to spend on working on and focusing on the season 3 scripts for shadow and bone.

#shadow and bone #s&b season 2 spoilers #six of crows spin off #answered

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exo-stentialism · 4 years

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who are your favorite creators for bbh?? i need to follow some more blogs!!!

@hyunniebaeked @sefuns @byunvoyage @baekonbaek @byuntoro @byunls @byunfirstlady @baixien @subaek come to mind first! many bbh editors have changed urls or gone inactive over the last couple of years, and i also don’t read fanfic on tumblr so i know i’m unfortunately missing a whole handful of talented people. i highly recommend going though exosnet’s baekhyun tag to see who’s actively creating because the net is always pretty active, or even checking the general baekhyun tag to find some great multi editors! good luck! bbh is blessed to have really great editors here on tumblr so i know you’ll find great stuff! 💗

#ask #hopefully aleks link will work ;;#i still can't see her posts or like or rb #or see her blog or interact at all #thanks dumblr!!

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cry-stars · 3 years

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For the ask, Katrielle and Ernest, AU where somehow his mother is missing instead of dead?

Absolutely! Thank you so much for asking, and I'm so sorry for taking so long with this! It turned out much longer than I expected. The AO3 link to it is here, but I'll also put it below a read-more here as well.

...

The wind rushes through Kat’s hair as she pedals her way down Chancer Lane, her heart pounding in her ears. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees the concerned glance of the waiter from the cafe, and the curious stare of Aleks Lipski as he looks up towards her through the bakery window. Quickly, she summons up a smile, throwing her arm in the air and waving as she passes them by. Then, she turns her eyes back to the road, her smile fading as she puts all of her energy into her pedalling, her mind focused solely on her mission.

She’s not panicking. Of course not.

Everything is fine.

But it’s so unlike Ernest to not show up at the agency, let alone for days at a time, without letting her know. And it’s even more unlike him to ignore her calls. Something isn’t right.

Kat hadn’t noticed the first day that he’d been missing. The Layton Detective Agency is buzzing with activity these days: after the news spread that Dad had returned, the people who had been searching for him for all this time gravitated to Kat’s little agency like moths to a flame. Kat’s seen so many people that she hadn’t seen for months or years within the space of a few weeks. Al, Lucy, Flora, and so many others crowded themselves into the building, chatting and crying and laughing, and Kat had been right in the thick of it all, lost in the excitement of Dad’s return.

Within all the chaos, it makes sense that an ordinary person wouldn’t notice Ernest’s absence; he’s quiet at the best of times. But Kat should’ve noticed. She’s solved a hundred mysteries like they were nothing. She’s more observant than the whole police force put together. She should’ve noticed that her loyal assistant wasn’t there.

The weekend passed uneventfully; Katrielle didn’t bother going to the agency, busy as she was with her family. She’d left a message at Ernest’s number, letting him know that she wouldn’t be there. It didn’t bother her too much that he didn’t pick up; it was the weekend, after all.

But come Monday morning, Ernest still wasn’t at the agency, and this time, it was impossible to shrug off his absence. She’d tried to call him in the morning, but there had been no answer. Somewhat rattled, she’d forced a smile and settled down to do some reading and paperwork on her own. Of course, she missed her usual morning tea (yes, she’s capable of making it herself, but Ernest’s tea always tastes best), and she missed simply having him around; the agency just doesn’t feel the same with only she and Sherl in it. But in the end, she’d shrugged it off as best as she could. Perhaps Ernest had slept in today, or wasn’t feeling well. It had been a hectic past few weeks, after all. And perhaps he had been in the agency yesterday, and she just somehow hadn’t noticed.

She left one more call before going home. Still no reply.

Surely he’d be here tomorrow.

But he wasn’t.

Three days without coming to the agency… five days if you count the weekend… Surely she’s not being overly anxious about this? A five day absence isn’t something that she can play off as normal or unusual; it’s completely unlike Ernest to do something like this.

“He’s still not here, Sherl,” she’d said this afternoon, fighting to keep her tone of voice neutral and curious. “Do you… do you think everything’s alright?”

She wasn’t anxious. No, not at all. But she needed Sherl’s reassurance.

“He hasn’t had a day off since Christmas, Kat,” Sherl had said, yawning as he curled up on the sofa. “And you wouldn’t even let him have that whole day off. Even the most loyal of dogsbodies need a chance to curl up and have a rest now and then.”

“But it’s been five days if you count the weekend, and he hasn’t answered any calls.”

Sherl cracked one eye open, then the other, his face creasing into something like a frown. “Well. It is unlike him to leave you on paws like that.” Katrielle could hear the doubt creeping into Sherl’s voice with every word that he spoke.

That’s when she knew that she had to see if Ernest was alright.

If there’s nothing wrong, she can downplay it to Ernest and to Sherl, or to Dad if he asks, playing it off as one of her many whims. Oh, she just happened to want to go on a bike ride, just wanted to burn off some nervous energy on her way home from the agency. And she wouldn’t be lying, not really. She has to get home somehow; she’ll just be taking the scenic route, passing by Ernest’s flat. The… very long, out-of-the-way scenic route, but...

...she won’t be able to sleep tonight until she makes sure that he’s alright.

The sun is already setting by the time she arrives at Bowlyn Hill. Kat throws a half-nervous glance over her shoulder at the statue, with the massive globe upon its shoulders, before making her way down the hill. She’d like to make it to Ernest’s flat alive, if possible.

Before last Christmas Eve, before that evening at Richmond Court, Katrielle hadn’t known that Ernest lived in this part of town, but in hindsight, it makes perfect sense. He had known so much about the area during the Ratman case, and, since he grew up with such a small income, it makes sense that he would live in this area.

Before that night, Kat had really known almost nothing about Ernest. And still, she really knows very little about him, other than the tragic history of his family. He’s still a very private person: of course, he spends most of every day with her, but he works constantly during that time, and certainly doesn’t waste time chatting when he could be cleaning or sorting something that Kat’s made a mess of. And then, he goes home, alone.

At least Kat knows where he lives now: she’s visited his flat once or twice, dropping off something he’s left at the agency, or bringing over one of Rosa’s many treats that she’s “made too much of.” But still, Kat isn’t exactly a Bowlyn Hill regular; it’s easy to get lost here, amid the twisted alleyways and dark roads. She half-wonders if she’s going to get lost as she pedals her way through the streets as quickly as she dares.

At last, Kat pulls up in front of the building where Ernest’s flat is located. The building is noticeably newer and taller than others nearby, but is still coated with the same grime that covers so much of the surrounding area. At least it appears to be all in one piece, unlike many of the other buildings in this area. While some buildings in Bowlyn Hill, like Mrs. Slow’s tailor shop, have a sense of charm, there are many others that are in horrible disrepair.

Kat casts a wary glance behind her toward the old hospital, shut down almost ten years ago, which looks like something out of one of Flora’s murder mysteries. She’d heard the stories of how Dad had been beaten, so many years ago, and had stayed in this very place for weeks. While the Ratmen patrol the streets now and hopefully keep Bowlyn Hill from seeing any more violence like what Dad experienced, Kat can’t help but feel anxiety stir up in her stomach. Did something like that happen to Ernest? Is that why he’s been absent? Is he lying battered in some lonely alley?

Fighting back nausea, Kat hurriedly dismounts from her bicycle, clumsily leaning it against the wall as she rushes to the door of the building, tripping over her own feet as she reaches for the handle—

The door opens.

“M-Miss Layton!”

Ernest stands before her, shock dawning over his face.

He’s alright.

A wave of relief gently washes over Katrielle, and a second wave of self-consciousness slaps her in the face. He’s completely fine, and yet she rushed here in a panic, almost barging through his front door. This is why she should think through things more logically; she shouldn’t let her emotions get the better of her like this…

“I-I’m dreadfully sorry.”

Kat startles, snapping back into reality. Why is he apologizing? She stares at him in confoundment, noticing how he stares through the floor, his hands coming up and clumsily attempting to smooth back his uncombed hair. “It’s been days, I know,” he stutters. “I sincerely apologize… I should have been there; you shouldn’t have had to come look for me...”

Kat realizes too late that she’s simply been standing here, silently staring at him, ever since he flung the door open. She forces a chuckle. “What? Did you think that I came here to scold you?” Kat uses her usual teasing tone, but it’s far from genuine. Is he really that afraid of disappointing her?

Perhaps he’s not alright after all.

“W-well…” Ernest’s fingers slow their movement through his hair, his hand pausing above his eyes. He slowly looks up, meeting Katrielle’s gaze, his gaze half-hidden by his hand. Kat notices, for the first time, the dark circles under his eyes. “I wouldn’t blame you if you did. I promised myself that I’d do everything I could to help you, and I’ve failed once again.”

Any irritation that Kat might’ve felt at Ernest’s unexplained absence has completely vanished at this point. Her curiosity is in overdrive, but given Ernest’s state, it seems like some tact is called for.

“Nonsense,” she says, gently but matter-of-factly. “Now that we’ve found Dad, the greatest purpose of the Agency has been fulfilled. So I don’t need…” She was about to say that she didn’t need help anymore, but that would wound Ernest’s pride.

(And it would be a lie).

She amends her statement. “I don’t need constant help anymore. You don’t need to worry about that.”

“But… but I like helping you.” Ernest bites his lip. “I really do. But I just couldn’t this week, Miss Layton. I should have told you why, but, I…” He stares through the floor. “I… I’m just not sure what to do, and I didn’t want to burden you, when you’ve done so much for me.”

How could Ernest be a burden? Katrielle has helped countless people with simpler matters than whatever’s troubled Ernest so badly. Are her powers of observation so sub-par, that Katrielle didn’t know that he felt like he’d burden her by asking for help?

“It would hardly be a burden, Ernest.” She places a hand on his shoulder, summoning up a confident mask of a smile. “Any mystery solved—that’s my motto. And I want to solve the mystery of why my loyal assistant seems so worryingly unlike his normal self.”

Will this be enough for him to understand that she genuinely wants to help him?

Ernest blinks. He turns away from her once again, but not before Kat spots the pink colouring his cheeks. “I’m sorry to have made you worry about me,” he says slowly. “It’s… it’s been a difficult last few days. But, I… I’m glad you came.” A quiet smile colours his face, so small that it’s almost invisible. Perhaps Katrielle’s powers of observation aren’t completely unreliable after all.

Ernest breaks the silence, clearing his throat. “I was just about to go on a walk, if you’d care to join me, and I’ll try to explain, if you’ll allow me to.”

Kat slowly feels a genuine smile lighting up her own face. “Of course”

They walk together down the street, Katrielle walking her bicycle beside her. She’s not quite sure if the silence between them is comfortable or not—she’s still relieved that Ernest is physically alright, but there’s still something wrong. Will she be able to help him half as much as he’s helped her for all of this time?

Ernest stops suddenly, and Kat blinks, reorienting herself to reality. They stand before the gates of a cemetery. The iron gates are battered and rusted, and Kat can see moss growing over many of the tombstones.

“I come here every Wednesday,” Ernest says quietly as they enter the gates. They walk between the tombstones, the long, damp grass staining their shoes. “Mama passed on a Wednesday. It really wasn’t all that long ago, in the scheme of things, but it’s so hard to remember. It’s all a blur. One moment, I was talking to her in the hospital room, and the next… they’ve… they’ve taken her away.” He keeps walking, his head moving back and forth, his eyes scanning the tombstones on either side of him. “I never knew where she was buried. Nobody ever told me. I come here every week to look, to see if I can find her grave. But I’ve never found it.”

“I’m so sorry,” Katrielle says quietly. It’s difficult to know what else to say. She understands the grief of losing a parent as well as Ernest does. But she’d known in her heart that Dad was still alive, and that had given her the strength to go on, to become a great detective and to hone her skills, searching for him. Finding him had been a dream come true. But Ernest’s loss was permanent—

“But—” Ernest bursts out, breaking through Katrielle’s thoughts. “The group home where I stayed after Mama died called me Thursday night. And they said that…” His voice rises in pitch; his rapid breathing is barely constrained. “...that someone named Ms. Richmond came and… and was asking about me.”

Katrielle freezes. “What?”

Ms. Richmond...that must be—

“I know.” Ernest’s hands are shaking. “I don’t know what to think either. How could she still be alive? But I rushed to the group home as soon as I could. But I missed her, and they don’t know where she went. And I’ve been reeling ever since. I’ve called everywhere I could think of. I’ve scoured the city as best I can. And then, when I couldn’t find anything… I locked myself away because I’m… I’m afraid.”

“Afraid?” Katrielle repeats his last word gently, eager to find out any further details that Ernest might know.

“I… I don’t know what to do. What if I never find her? Or, what if I find her, and it turns out that she isn’t Mama?” Ernest lets his face fall into his hands. “I… I can’t bear to go through that again: to get my hopes up, only to lose her all over again.” He turns away, staring off into the sea of tombstones. “I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be bothering you with this. You have so many other things to think about. You can go home; I’m alright.”

Katrielle’s mind races. How could Ernest’s mother still be alive? A mix-up at the hospital, perhaps? Perhaps she was only at death’s door, and never truly died? Or could this be a bigger conspiracy?

What an intriguing mystery. One that will take a great detective to solve.

After all, Ernest has done so much to help her in her own search for Dad. It’s only fair that she does the same for him.

“Any mystery solved, Ernest.”

Ernest blinks, looking up at her with confusion in his eyes. “Pardon, miss?”

“Any mystery solved.” Kat gives him a smile, hoping that it comes across as reassuring. “It would be better to find out the truth, wouldn’t it? This mystery’s come across your path for a reason. If you don’t solve it, I know that you’d regret it.”

“Yes…” Ernest starts hesitantly. He clasps his hands together, staring down at them as he kneads them anxiously together. “But I… I don’t know where to start.”

“That’s why I’m going to help you. You’ve helped me look for my dad for so long. One good turn deserves another, wouldn’t you say?” She holds her hand out to him. “What do you say, Ernest?”

For what seems like forever, Ernest stands still, staring toward her; Kat can’t tell whether he’s dumbfounded or whether he’s going to cry.

Did she push too hard?

She’d never wanted to give up on searching for Dad, but in her darkest moments, there were times where she’d thought that it would have been easier if he had actually died, if she didn’t have to explain to everyone (including herself) that he was missing. She regrets thinking that way, but perhaps Ernest doesn’t. Perhaps he wants to leave the past in the past—

“Miss Layton…”

Ernest’s voice cuts through Kat’s thoughts. She blinks, refocusing her gaze on his face, noticing his tiny smile, and the teary shine in his eyes. “Thank you… thank you so much,” he says, his voice trembling. “Even… even you simply coming to see me means so much, but offering to help me…” He chuckles weakly, looking away, swiping at his eyes with one hand. “I’m supposed to be the assistant, but ever since I’ve known you, you’ve assisted me far more than I ever have assisted you.”

He’s far too hard on himself. “Nonsense, Ernest. You’re the best of assistants. It only makes sense that I’d want to help you now and again, don’t you think?” She sets her hand on his shoulder, hoping that it will come across as a comforting gesture. She’ll let go of a little of her pride, just this once; she wants to see him as his usual self again. “Besides, this is your case. So perhaps you don’t need to be an assistant this time.”

“O-oh! Well, that doesn’t sound right--you being my assistant.” Ernest chuckles again, but this time it sounds a little more natural; beneath her hand, Kat can feel the tension in his shoulder leaving by the second. He looks up, meeting her gaze with a hesitant smile. “But thank you. I… I do want your help, if you’re willing to give it to me.”

“Of course I am. Whenever you’re ready to begin the search, I’ll be there.”

Ernest smiles again, but Kat can still see pain behind his eyes.“I’m almost ready,” he says. “Just one moment.” He turns away. Kat watches his eyes scan the gravestones, as if searching one last time for the elusive stone engraved with his mother’s name.

She’s impatient to begin the search, but Kat forces her feet to stay still, forcing herself to stay silent as he surveys the graveyard. She’ll give him this moment. He helped her day in and day out searching for her father for more than a year. She can wait for him.

#katrielle layton #ernest greeves #professor layton #katnest #just if you squint #my fanfiction #thank you so much for asking!#I've been wanting to write about kat and ernest more #and I really love this AU!

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talented-headache · 6 years

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Blame It On The Blonde

Pairing: HundarNova

Summary: James and Brett are stuck in a safe house together and it’s all Aleks’s fault. He should have known James was an idiot and crushing hard on their coworker.

For the @ccsecretsanta

Merry Christmas, @tophatgoat it’s a little late but I hope you enjoy.

[AO3 Link] [Link]

James wished he could blame Aleks on his now giant problem. Mostly because he’s been blaming his partner for year. For everything. But this all fell on James. It had been a rush decision and now he was the one stuck dealing with the consequences.

“I fucking hate the snow. There’s a very clear reason I moved to Los Santos.” Brett bitched at him. One hand moved from the steering wheel to wave at the window, the powdered snow instantly turned to water before being swept away from by the whippers. Every word had an emphasis that went along with the hand motions.

James looked up from his burner, one of the Fakehaus guys was watching Ein as they laid low for the next few weeks. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t constantly check in on his girl. He didn’t say anything to Brett yet he playfully rolled his eyes as they pulled into the Suburbian driveway, hours away from the city.

James stared at the boring and admittedly too small house they were forced to stay in. He had to block out the flashback of when he stood next to Aleks as everything fell apart around them. It was like the mist that closes in around headlights, barely there but creeping in with every rotation of the tires. He almost wished that instead of taking Aleks’s original spot he forced Brett and Lindsey to switch. Those assholes were going east towards warmer weather, bright lights, and gambling, while their latest group of stragglers they’ve adopted headed South to hid under FAHC’s protection.

James sat in the warm car for a minute after Brett stepped out to stretch his muscles. He could already feel his joints start to ache as the cold breeze hit his jacket from the open door. He reluctantly left when he felt the need to stand as his muscles jumped and twitched.

He smirked as he listened to Brett’s continuous grumbling as he shook his hat out, the snowflakes still clinging to it stubbornly. The grass could still be seen, barely, under the white layer but there was no doubt by morning there wouldn’t be any green in the neighborhood. James had to resist the urge to stare as Brett raked a hand over his smooth head, probably still getting used to the cold air against it.

James cleared his throat, not shocked that the noise didn’t startle Brett. He’s been making it for years to mess with people.

“Huh, then why did you fuckin’ pick this piece of shit?” James asked, the little actual irritation he felt bleed through as he moved to get his shit out of the trunk.

“I didn’t. Aleks did.” Brett said as he moved to stand next to him. “ I didn’t find out about this until he gave me the address in the van.”

James could feel the warmth from Brett’s arm as it brushed against his. “That’s what you fucking get for letting him plan shit.”

“Yeah, no more of that from now on.”

James laughed at him. They both knew if Aleks wanted to make a plan they’d make it happen with very little hesitation. Not in a friendship way either but the fact that they’re all danger junkies and their co-leader was the best at being reckless. It made their work easier.

Aleks had been so excited about planning the heist by himself, his confidence shot after their losses that year. He only took ideas from the crew and basically created a secret plan to surprise them. Early Christmas present he said. He had worked over those stupid plans and evacuations for months. But now they were successfully richer and stuck in a frozen hell hole; hours away from the city he was still learning to love.

“Are you even listening to me?” Brett cut through James’s thought process. He cringed as he was caught stuck in the past.

:Fucking, no.” James scoffed quickly grabbing his bags before walking to the door.

“Wow.” Brett laughed and opened the door for them. The house was barely decorated but it was furnished. And fucking freezing. James immediately found the thermostat, his body long used to the overbearing heat of Los Santos. Brett flopped onto the ugly fucking brown couch.

“Never thought I’d actually miss cow print.” James commented. Brett stretched his legs out in front of him and glared. He already had his phone out and was texting away on it.

“If you’re implying that you can sit on that fucking couch without contracting some venereal disease then do I have some news for you, buddy.”

James glared at him and loudly scoffed at him, ready to throw a fake fit. He bought that couch, the second of its kind, not long after their move. It wasn’t his fault that Aleks was a fucking dumbass.

James hated unpacking. He usually just leaves everything in his case until he needed it, which is exactly what he did. So he hung out on the bed until he really needed to move, which was hopefully never.

Night had already fallen over the neighborhood and he ate the few granola bars left over from the road trip. Brett promised a food delivery in the morning so he had no need to save them. The side crew has long since checked in so all he needed was to here from Aleks and Lindsey. He wasn’t that worried about them, even if something went wrong those two could take care of it. They have before.

“James.” Brett’s voice carried across the house. James had gotten used to ignoring Brett’s irritated voice in the past few years. Mostly because he tended to not be on the receiving end of it. He closed his eyes and hoped if he pretended to sleep Brett would leave him alone, and while he really wanted to sleep but he couldn’t afford to fuck up his schedule more than he already had with the heist.

“James.” The irritation forced James up and out of the room before he even realized he was moving.

He could see Brett standing at the foot of his temporary bed. The scowl on his face was the one generally reserved for him and Aleks when their ideas went too far. This time is was thrown at a hideous red and yellow sweater he hung in front of his face.

“I thought we burned all those.” James said and Brett turned to look at him, he waved the sweater face stuck in between reprimanding James and chuckling with him.

“They weren’t that bad, a few of the other Fakes definitely were though.” Brett said, his face went back to the dark irritation that plagued it when he walked in.

“Why did you even bring it? Can it even fucking fit you?” James said. He took the sweater from him and playfully pulled the arm of the sleeve to stretch it against Brett’s. He tried not to think about anything but making Brett laugh, especially the way his fingers barely skimmed his skin.

“I didn’t, you fuck.” He took the sweater back and threw it on the pile of clothes on the bed. “I didn’t bring these either.”

He pointed after it as it landed. The god awful mix of red and greens that could be seen under the sweater made James’s head hurt.

“What the fuck?”

“Exactly.” Brett answered, “All of my shirts are missing, even my work out ones.”

James breathed in deeply, the urge to scream almost too much as he turned to stare out the door then back at Brett.

“James?” Brett asked, James must have looked crazy because he did a few more times before he stomped out of the room. He rushed back to his own temporary room, he could almost feel the house shake with each step. Brett followed him back calling his name, amusement in his voice rather than concern.

He all but tore his bag in his rush to see the contents inside. He could barely hear Brett’s breathless laugh over his scream as his own pile of red and green formed on the bed.

I actually fucking hate you.

I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about this time.

“Can’t sleep?” Brett’s voice almost startled James out of his thoughts. Memories so far in the past that they felt like the melting snowflakes as they hit the window.

He shouldn’t even be sitting there, in the window. It’s might as well be the first rule of the safe house and if Aleks caught him James would actually get himself stabbed by his friend. James had to resist smiling at the thought of Aleks ranting at him as blood showed on his ghastly fake gold sweater.

“James.”

“What?” His headache only grew as the ambient noise he managed to block out filled the air. Not just Brett and his every movement but the wind against the house and the creaks created from it. Brett was silent and James didn’t even realize he had moved to stand in front of him, even with his sweater with what James had to assume was a fat Santa face. He held out a plain white mug out to James who gratefully took it.

“Tea?” James asked as he cradled the mug in his hands. The warmth grounded him in the present as Brett sat on the ledge with his own cup. “Is this tea?”

“Shut up and drink it.” Brett said, a small chuckle as he watched James sip from the cup purposely making a slurping noise as he did.

While silence filled the living room again, it was comfortable and relaxing. Completely different from terror of before. Terror isn’t the right word for it, more existential. Something Aleks would tell him is the same thing.

“Lindsey and I stayed in a place like this a few years ago.” Brett was the first to break the silence. James hummed at him, not necessarily prompting him on but not rejecting him either.

“It was more of a fucking shithole, though. The stove had been stolen and she broke the fucking door on the last night.” Brett’s nostalgic face seemed so different from James’s. He always assumed he was frowning when he thought but Brett looked content as he looked outside.

“How’d she fucking do that?” James’s voice was bordering too high pitched for the time of night but he never really cared and if Brett did he didn’t show it.

“No idea. I don’t actually remember much of that night.” James choked on his tea but it didn’t stop him from laughing at Brett. He always forgot the party side of the more responsible leader. It took him awhile to catch his breath from his wheezing and it was only because Brett gave him a ‘you done’ look.

“Look, I’m not going to pester you to talk about what’s going on in your head.” Brett started. James expected more but there wasn’t even a single ‘you’ve been quiet’ or anything.

“Thanks.”

“Now, finish your fucking tea and go to sleep.” Brett used his mug to point down the hall towards James’s room.

“I’m good. I don’t think sleep and I are going to get along tonight.” James offered, it was only a small fraction of the problem and usually only happened when he was far away from the crew. A few days was fine but no contact for a week outside initial contact wasn’t apparently.

“What, you want to braid each other’s hair and paint our toe nails?” Brett asked, the sarcasm in his voice on level with nearly every time he spoke. If it wasn’t for the amusement in his eyes James would believe he was actually irritated.

“You don’t exactly have much, dude.” James replied. “But a few more stories wouldn’t hurt.”

Brett stood but didn’t go far. He lent down and kept his face close to James’s. When he looked up at him Brett placed a small kiss to his forehead. “I’ll make more tea than. And if you’re a good boy I’ll tell you about mine and Joel’s French heist.”

“Fuck you!” James yelled out after him. All he got was a middle finger in return.

He was startled awake. For a second he couldn’t move his body as sleep still had a hold of him. He slowly reached his hand over to the other side of the bed only to feel the cold pillow. He didn’t panic, Brett had always been a morning person and James usually caught him after his new home workout during their long week trapped in the house. Besides nothing happened last night and James wasn’t one to cling anyway.

He almost let himself drift back to sleep when his interruption showed back up, he didn’t realize what was about to happen until it did. There was a distant crash from the outside of the door and light footsteps, but they were nothing compared to the shock of his door being kicked open. It bounced off the wall, hard enough to almost crack the drywall behind it and close again. James jumped the noise knocking the sleep from his eyes.

“Merry Christmas, you fucking bitch.” Aleks didn’t quite yell into the room but he did throw his lanky body onto the bed. He barely missed James as he bounced. He didn’t move away from his friend as they both relaxed into the bed.

“It’s ten in the morning. How are you already drunk?” James asked his head snuggled back into his pillow, a deep sigh coming from the true annoyance he felt.

“Oh, please. I’m tipsy at most, asshole. Lindsey made some home made eggnog. It’s fucking great, man.” Aleks replied, his face slightly red as he stared at the roof. It stood out from the blue pillow case in a way that made James wished he had his phone in hand. He’d have to remember it for later.

“Why are you even here?” he asked instead, already missing his alone time away.

“Fake AH crashed our down time. They fucking took the cops’ attention off of us with their own Christmas heist. We decided to have a family Christmas instead. Three days late but still, we even brought presents.” Aleks had that rare soft look on his face as he smiled over at James. It was still a recent thing to see him open with his emotions. Like being in control of his situation for once allowed him to do what he wanted without consequences or fear. It was more comforting than nice to see. James learned to ground himself in the present with it, one of the few changes that they needed.

He hummed and whipped the sleep crust from his eyes, purposely using his middle finger. Aleks just smiled at him. “How was the vacation?”

“Quiet.”

“I fucking doubt that.” Aleks snorted. His eyes scrunched up as he laughed at his own joke.

“You planned this, didn’t you?” James asked as he stretched his body. Aleks snorted and James saw his face light up.

“Yeah, dawg, if you hadn’t of asked for the switch I would have come up with some excuse to switch Brett and Lindsey.” He explained, the amusement in his voice as he moved to sit back on his elbows.

“I hate you, so much.” James reached over and kicked at him. Aleks continued to giggle and clutched onto the sheets as James attacked him. Eventually James managed to push him off the bed, yet he managed to take all of the blankets with him.

James let out a small screech as the comfort and warmth was taken from him. Aleks’s dumb head popped up from the side he landed on.

“Oh, good. You’re wearing pants.”

He groaned and grabbed his pillow. He flung it at Aleks’s face. It his with a thump and he dramatically went with the movement. He landed hard on the floor, hitting his head on the wall as he did.

“Hey! Stop fucking around.” Brett’s voice carried across the house. “Come decorate this stupid fucking tree.”

Aleks ran out of the room just as James threw another pillow at him. The last James saw of him was his middle finger as it rounded the corner. He slowly moved to follow Aleks, he groaned as the only available thing to throw on was a sweater that looked like it had cows fucking on it. They were probably supposed to be reindeer but the material made them look fat and round.

The first thing he saw as he entered the living room was the dead and brown pine tree. It wasn’t that tall, barely taller than Lindsey as she tried to toss some garland onto it. Aleks had already gotten another cup of eggnog and sat on the couch.

“Oh, good, that fuck got you out of bed.” Brett asked. He was leaning against the corner between the kitchen and living room. Today his sweater was neon green with red plaid all over it, even the words were made of the ugly combination.

“Is that a Fake Pine sweater?” James asked, barely restraining the giggle he had in his throat. Aleks and Lindsey didn’t.

“Yeah.” Brett shrugged, massive shoulders pulling at the seams slightly. “I hate it.”

“How did you do it?” James asked turning to the blondes, they were in the post laugh stuttery laugh stages. James scowled at them when they wouldn’t stop.

“A magician never reveals her secrets.” Lindsey replied, she bowed low and a piece of her hair got caught by one of the branches.

“She’s also the one to stash all the cars before the fucking heist.” Aleks pipped in. Lindsey threw an ornament at him. They bickered but it was lost on James as he moved to the kitchen to grab his own glass of eggnog.

“Sleep well?” Brett moved to stand behind him not quite touching him but close enough James could feel the heat from his chest. James thought about yelling at him and telling him to fuck off. Instead he smiled, a full mouth smile that everybody knew meant trouble. Brett scowled at him, eyebrows scrunched in confusion, and took a step back for his safety.

“Amazing. I think it was the tea. Really put me to sleep.” James said and drank from the cup he made. Brett opened his mouth to say something in return but was interrupted by the front door being thrown open.

“Presents!” A voice called out and chatter filled the air as the living room.

“We’re right here, you bitch.” James yelled back at them as he stepped around Brett who just smirked down and followed him. “Stop fucking yelling.”

The side crew had filled the room, not everyone James hopped to see but he had no control over people he wasn’t in command of anymore. He still missed the flashes of tall teenager and brown hairs and short and long haired people. He forced it out of his mind as Aleks roughly grabbed a present from the hands of their new intern.

James sat on the couch with Aleks, they each took their own corner and it wasn’t long before Brett worked his way onto the middle seat. James allowed himself to slowly relax next to him as everybody started to sing some butchered version of Holy Night and threw tinsel at each other.

#hundarnova #fake chop #ugly sweaters #tophatgoat #ccss #my fic #HOPE YOU ENJOY!

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roaringdandelions · 6 years

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-beep!- Charlie’s phone began to ping with several missed calls and messages. Rowan’s made similar noises. They each looked curiously at one another and reached for their phones together. “The cell service must have re-activated when we got back to the apartment,” Rowan guessed.

“Yeah, we had it linked to wireless service, so they must have just found the signal again,” He replied as he scrolled through the eleven missed messages from his sister. Finally, a text message in all caps appeared on his screen:

“CALL ME!!! And when you do, ask for “The Future Mrs. Romanovsky ;-)”

“Son of a bitch, he actually went through with it!” Charlie crowed. Rowan gasped as she saw the same photo appear on her phone. They shared an excited look and Charlie immediately dialed his sister’s number.

-ring, ring-

-South Square Cafe, Windenburg-

“Welcome home, big bro!” Echo’s cheerful voice filtered through the ear piece. “How was your trip to Oasis Springs? Was your first comedy tour successful?”

“Yeah, yeah, sand, clubs with questionable buffets, toddlers that should be nowhere near said clubs, more sand, aliens, yada yada - what’s this I see about Aleks planning on making an honest woman out of you?!”

“Congratulations!” Rowan cried loud enough for Echo to hear.

Echo giggled on the other end of the line. “Oh, that, y’know… who am I kidding, I’m SO FREAKING HAPPY! I’m getting MARRIED!”

Charlie grinned as he listened to his sister go over the play-by-play of the whole magical event. She sounded so incredibly happy, so settled in to the concept of being somebody’s fiancee. It made him so proud to see how far she had come. Eventually she paused to take a breath, and he interjected, “I’m really happy for you, little sis. How far have wedding preparations gotten? Remember, you’re talking to me, so if you use the words ‘chiffon’ or ‘centerpieces’ I will make sure that my phone has a violent accident.”

“Ha ha, very funny. We’re working with a location for a date, we should hopefully have that by this evening. I’m actually meeting with the event coordinator now to go over details. That’s as much as I have for you.”

“Know that I’m expecting - nay, demanding - that you go full Bridezilla on us, just so I have something truly noteworthy for my next act.”

She snorted. “Yeah, like we need two headstrong divas in the family.”

They chatted for several more minutes, and eventually Charlie said his goodbyes and hung up the phone. He stood in the hallway for a quiet moment, shook his head and chuckled. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

Rowan watched his expression change to thoughtful. “You okay there, honey?”

He looked at her, as if only just realizing that she was still there. “Oh, yeah, I’m great. It’s just a great thing that’s happened, you know? I’m really happy for her.”

She smiled widely. “I know, it’s fantastic. Echo sounded so happy, good for them! They’ll get to start their lives together, raise a family like we are. I know that she’s itching to have kids. They’ll have an amazing life together.

He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. He never seemed to believe just how damned lucky he was. “You’re absolutely right, Ro. It’ll be amazing.”

#ts4 #the sims 4 #sims 4 story #sims 4 gamepolay #Tyler Twins #simblr #so many screenshots!#I couldn't not use them #sorry for the long post #The Dandelion Chronicles #TDC

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lokilickedme · 6 years

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Hello My Lady! Just because you asked, here are my faves of yours: #1 King (no surprise here), #2 Jack (too crazy not to love, and the stream crossing of pretty much all your stories is genius) #3 Chem/BD/TTW/TKH/TWK/can't remember them all. They're all special in their own way! Can't believe it'll be 3yrs soon since I started squatting your page!!! God time goes by fast! I'd like to add a special mention for the Muse Meetings, sooo funny, and a Golden Snowflake to Aleks. Cute little bumkin.

Thank you @fudgemuffinanon! Dear god, has it been that long? Seems like I joined up last year…*sits here blinking at my posts from 2015, wondering how that happened*

**LONG TEXT POST COMING UP**

You drew the lucky straw today my darling, I’m feeling wordy and in the mood to share. A lot of people have asked me over the last couple of years how some of my stuff came about, and you mentioned one that gets a lot of asks.

Lemme tell you something about the Muse Meetings. Way back in 1998 when I got my first computer, one of the very first things I ran across by way of internet fanfiction was a little something called The Very Secret Diaries penned by a writer named Cassandra Claire (who is now professionally published under the name Cassandra Clare). The Very Secret Diaries (which are hilarious, btw) woke something up in me - mainly because, as a lifelong writer who had never allowed anyone to read 95% of my work, I finally realized that yeah, there were other people out there whose brains deviated from the standard in the same way mine did. Her writing style back then (in the Diaries specifically, I’ve never actually read anything else she’s written) was very similar to the way I wrote, and those Diaries were exactly the sort of silly, ridiculous, irreverent thing I’d scribbled in my notebooks for most of my life. And people liked it, she had a huge following based on just those out-of-context glimpses of her characters’ personal thoughts. She was writing behind the scenes thoughts of characters, things that would never make it into books, and it was brilliant. That was the kind of stuff I loved to write but had never given myself permission to show anyone. She was showing hers to people, and they were loving it.

Which gave me the inspiration to not only put my work out there in the public eye for the first time ever, but to stick with my personal writing style (which I’d always assumed wasn’t what other people wanted to read, based on the books I’d been exposed to most of my life). Not change anything. Just do me. And doing me meant writing silly nonsense if I wanted to.

So - The Very Secret Diaries are more or less the inspiration for the Muse Meetings, or at least the official written version of them. I’d always imagined dialogues with my characters outside the confines of whatever story I was working on, but never thought anyone else would be interested in seeing me write it out.

The Diaries made me realize different. Not only were her characters yammering and complaining and snarking at each other (both out of character and in), they were doing it in exactly the way I’d imagined my own characters interacting in the real world. I loved it. Seeing someone else do what I’d always done in my head - and do it in an official, out-there-in-the-public-eye capacity, was a revelation. Finally I was able to give myself permission to write the way I wanted to, without restricting myself to the styles and methods in the books in the family library. It had always been in my head, but now it didn’t have to stay there. I could write proper stories, but I could also write what was going on in the other room, where the reader seldom gets to peek. And other people besides myself might like it because hey, there’s precedent.

That was freeing, and I am grateful to Ms Claire for that.

So, a little history that leads up to how and why I finally started writing out the Muse Meetings:

My first fandoms that I wrote for online were Harry Potter and Star Wars (Kenobi specifically). And yes, way back then (late 90′s - early 2000′s) there were already muse meetings among my characters. I’ve been doing these for a long time, and I wish the out-of-character stuff I’d written back then still existed (my HP stuff bit the dust when The Restricted Section shut down, and my SW stuff was on FF.net for a little while but honestly I don’t remember my user ID there or the titles of the fics, though I have searched…so they’re most likely lost as well). It’s sort of a shame because there were some old Anakin/Obi-Wan muse meetings that you guys would have loved…and the stuff between Remus and Sirius while we were hashing out what was going to be in their next chapter? It still pains me that it’s all lost, but maybe it’s for the best. That was nearly two decades ago, we move on to bigger and (hopefully) better things.

After my urge to write HP fic fizzled out I stopped writing for a while, but there were always muse meetings going on in my head for stories I scribbled mentally. To me they’ve always been more fun than the actual stories, which explains my love for gag reels and behind-the-scenes featurettes for movies (I watch those first, always).

And then I found AO3 - funnily enough, I discovered it while searching the internet for one of my lost HP fics - and I decided to start writing in earnest again. With all those thousands and thousands of fics and endless fandoms, it seemed like the perfect place to indulge my need to share what went on in my head. And as I settled into the MCU and my stories started to grow to include multitudes of characters, those impromptu staff meetings with my muses kept being called to order. Stuff that my characters would never say in the context of their stories got said. Scenarios that were too ridiculous to waste time writing were played out. Arguments and fights and bantering between characters who, in the restrictive confines of their own tales, would never in a million years interact…now they were throwing poptarts at each other (and occasionally knives) while the side characters wandered out of the room to watch TV or raid the fridge or sat in horror as someone’s until-now unassuming wife brandished a melon baller as a weapon.

It was messy and fun and was by far my favorite part of the writing process.

That’s what eventually became the Muse Meetings. You want to know how they escaped my head and became an official thing?

Well I’m gonna tell ya lol

One of my very first friends in here, the fantastic @elvenfair1, was one of my first readers at AO3 and she told me I should post links to my fics at this site called tumblr to bring in a bigger audience. So I opened an account here, followed her, posted some links as suggested, and she and I began messaging back and forth pretty much every night as we wrote our respective fics, bouncing ideas off each other and discussing plot points and brainstorming for character names. And as my characters sassed me and refused to cooperate with what I wanted them to do, I would tell elvenfair what was going on in my head with my dumbass OCs and OFCs and we’d laugh and gripe about trying unsuccessfully to reel in our unruly muses.

And then one night back in 2015 she said “You should post this muse stuff, it’s hilarious.”

You know what the first thing I thought was? Cassandra Claire did it 14 years ago and people loved it. So yeah, I can sure as hell do it if I want. If nobody is interested in it, at least it’ll amuse me and elvenfair and that’s cool enough.

And so I did. I started posting them in here first, then as people started requesting them more I eventually moved them to AO3 in a more structured format. And now you guys have multiple Lokis hurling curses at a bartender and viciously baiting a hapless movie star while teenage versions of two other attendees flirt with unsuspecting OFCs, with an occasional appearance by Thor dropping hints about future chapters and looking for fruit roll-ups. It’s messy, but it’s fun and I’ve always enjoyed writing it as a way to let my brain decompress, especially when one of my “real” stories has hit a roadbump.

Since then I’ve seen countless other professional writers doing the exact same thing - J.R. Ward even posts her own version of muse meetings on her official website AND has a published book (her Insiders Guide) that is almost entirely nothing BUT muse meetings. It’s surprising how many writers actually do this and I sometimes wonder if authors like Poe, Steinbeck, Vonnegut, Tolkien, Gaiman, McMurtry didn’t do it themselves (I’d bet money on McMurtry). Just goes to show there’s not an original idea anywhere in the universe…no matter how much you might believe you came up with it first, someone out there has been doing it for a long damn time before you - and a million more will do it after you :)

Anyway, I haven’t written any muse meetings in a while but they still go on constantly in my head. I get asked about once a week to go back to doing them, and one day I will, when I have time for it. My actual fics are struggling for writing time as it is and I made a conscious decision to weed out the unnecessary stuff in favor of “real work” (yeah right lol)…but yeah, the Meetings are still one of my favorite things and I won’t stop doing them permanently - they’ll be back.

So thank you Cassandra Claire for inspiring me to let them fly…if it weren’t for those whacked-out Diaries, the Muse Meetings would all still be in my head with only one person (me) laughing at them.

#fudgemuffinanon #long post #it's been a while since I got to talk to an adult IRL due to the kids being sick #so here have all the words at once lol

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gordonwilliamsweb · 4 years

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Doctors Found Jet Fuel in Veteran’s Lungs. He Can’t Get Full Benefits.

The lungs Bill Thompson was born with told a gruesome, harrowing and unmistakable tale to Dr. Anthony Szema when he analyzed them and found the black spots, scarring, partially combusted jet fuel and metal inside.

This story also ran on The Daily Beast. It can be republished for free.

The retired Army staff sergeant had suffered catastrophic lung damage from breathing incinerated waste burned in massive open-air pits and probably other irritants during his tour of duty in Iraq.

“There’s black spots that are burns, particles all over; there’s metal. It was all scarred,” said Szema, a pulmonologist and professor who studies toxic exposures and examined Thompson’s preserved lung tissue. “There was no gas exchange anywhere in that lung.”

Thompson is still alive, surviving on his second transplanted set of lungs. Yet the story burned into the veteran’s internal organs is not one that has been entirely convincing to the U.S. government.

The military has not linked the burn pits to illness. That means many who were exposed to burn pits and are sick do not qualify for benefits under any existing program.

Retirement and health benefits for members of the military depend on factors like length of service, active or reserve status, deployments to combat zones and whether the military considers specific injuries or illnesses to be service-related. Thompson has been able to get care through the Department of Veterans Affairs for his lung disease but has not been able to secure other benefits, like early retirement pay.

“I was denied my Army retirement because if it was not a combat action, then I don’t receive that retirement,” Thompson said at a Senate Veterans’ Affairs Committee hearing last week on service members’ exposures to toxic substances.

Thompson is one of at least 3.5 million veterans since 2001 who have served in war zones where the U.S. military decided to dispose of its trash by burning it, according to VA estimates.

It’s not clear how many people within that population have gotten sick from exposure. Only a small fraction — 234,000 — have enrolled in the VA’s online burn pit registry. Veterans’ advocacy groups have said the majority of claims to the agency stemming from toxic exposures are denied, even as most former service members report contacts with toxins in their deployments.

Soldiers returning from tours in the global war on terror have reported debilitating illnesses almost from its beginning, but got little traction with the military. This year, though, the likelihood of congressional action is high, with Democrats expressing interest and a president who suspects burn pits are to blame for his son’s death.

President Joe Biden’s son Beau died of brain cancer in 2015 at age 46. He had deployed to Iraq in two sites with burn pits — at Baghdad and Balad — around the same time Thompson was at Camp Striker, near the Baghdad airport.

“Because of exposure to burn pits — in my view, I can’t prove it yet — he came back with stage 4 glioblastoma,” Biden said in a 2019 speech.

In testimony at the March 10 hearing, Shane Liermann, who works for the group Disabled American Veterans, told the committee that 78% of burn pit claims are denied. “Part of the problem is VA is not recognizing that exposure as being toxic exposures,” Liermann said.

Aleks Morosky, with the Wounded Warrior Project, said that in his group’s survey of 28,000 veterans last year, 71% said they had “definitely” been exposed to toxic substances or hazardous chemicals, and 18% said they had “probably” been exposed. Half of those people rated their health as poor or fair. Only about 16% of the service members who believed they had suffered exposure said they got treatment from the VA, and 11% said they were denied treatment.

Thompson, who is 49, said care for his lung disease is often slow and sometimes denied. It took the VA three years to approve an air purifier for his home to filter out allergens, and the VA refused to help pay for the removal of dust-trapping carpets, he said.

Thompson’s presence at the hearing, though, was not just meant to put the spotlight on the VA. The military’s entire approach to toxic exposure is a morass that leaves ill soldiers and veterans like Thompson trying to navigate a bureaucracy more labyrinthine than the Pentagon’s corridors.

After Thompson was shipped back to Fort Stewart in Georgia, his medical ordeal was at first addressed within the military system, including a year at Walter Reed National Military Medical Center in Bethesda, Maryland, where doctors found his lungs filled with titanium, magnesium, iron and silica.

Yet he said he didn’t qualify for the Army’s traumatic-injury insurance program, which might have helped him pay to retrofit his home in West Virginia. And he can’t get his military retirement pay until he’s 60.

“I may not live to be age 60. I turn 50 this year,” Thompson said.

Illustrating the problem, several officials at the hearing with the Department of Defense, the Army and the National Guard were unable to explain why Thompson — with 23 years of service between the Guard and Army — might have such a hard time qualifying for retirement benefits when the evidence of his lungs and the findings of the Army’s own doctors are so vivid and extreme.

For advocates who have been working on the problem for decades, it reminds them all too vividly of Agent Orange, which the military is still coming to grips with.

“It’s already been, since the first Persian Gulf [War] — we’re talking 30 years — and since burn pits were again active, since 2001,” said Liermann. “We’re way behind the curve here.”

Although Congress has done relatively little to deal with burn pits, many members seem to at least be thinking along the same lines. The Senate Veterans’ Affairs hearing promised to be something of a kickoff to a year when lawmakers are poised to offer a slew of bills designed to confront the military’s inability to care for service members poisoned during their deployments.

“Make no mistake about it,” said the committee chairman, Sen. Jon Tester (D-Mont.). “We hold these hearings for two reasons: to gather information for the committee members and to help educate the VA that they might take action before Congress does.”

Republicans have also shown growing interest in the problem, offering targeted bills to ensure a handful of toxin-related diseases are covered by the VA.

At the hearing, conservative freshman Sen. Tommy Tuberville (R-Ala.) seemed especially moved.

“We got to do a better job of taking care of our young people,” Tuberville said. “If we’re going to go to war, we got to understand we got to pay the price for it on both ends.”

There is also likely to be high-profile support and attention when revised legislation starts rolling out this spring.

The broadest bill likely to be offered was first introduced by Sen. Kirsten Gillibrand (D-N.Y.) in the Senate and Rep. Raul Ruiz (D-Calif.) in the House in late 2019, with a boost from former “Daily Show” host Jon Stewart and a cadre of 9/11 responders who are turning their attention to toxic exposures.

Indeed, Ruiz and Gillibrand’s legislation is modeled in part on the 9/11 health act that passed in 2015. The burn pit bill would remove the burden of proving a service-related connection.

It would vastly simplify the lives of people like Thompson.

“I am a warrior of the United States of America. I gave my lungs for my country,” Thompson said.

He was cut off before he could finish, but his prepared remarks concluded, “Hopefully, after hearing my story, it will bring awareness for not only me but others who are battling the same or similar injuries related to burn pit exposures from Iraq or Afghanistan.”

KHN (Kaiser Health News) is a national newsroom that produces in-depth journalism about health issues. Together with Policy Analysis and Polling, KHN is one of the three major operating programs at KFF (Kaiser Family Foundation). KFF is an endowed nonprofit organization providing information on health issues to the nation.

USE OUR CONTENT

This story can be republished for free (details).

Doctors Found Jet Fuel in Veteran’s Lungs. He Can’t Get Full Benefits. published first on https://nootropicspowdersupplier.tumblr.com/

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stephenmccull · 4 years

Text

Doctors Found Jet Fuel in Veteran’s Lungs. He Can’t Get Full Benefits.