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handsomelyhiddleston · 3 years

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The Cabin - Tom Hiddleston x Curvy Reader (Part 2/3)

Part 1

You woke up as the movie credits were scrolling. The kiddos were all still asleep strewn about the den. Looking at the clock, you realized it was about lunch time.

Walking into the kitchen, you saw Lisa sorting out the food that needed to go to the grill while one of Chris’ sisters was working on making some side dishes. “Anything I can help with?” You walked to the coffee maker to make a second cup of coffee.

“I think we’ve got everything sorted” Lisa answered. “Can you bring these out to the guys?” She was holding a large tin pan full of hot dogs, hamburgers, and veggie burgers.

“Of course.” You answered, holding your coffee in a way that let you grab the pan. “Do you mind opening the door?”

Chris’ sister hurried to the door, sliding it open.

“Thank you” you said, heading down the wooden deck to where the guys were sat by the grill.

“Look who’s awake” Chris teased, jogging to you to take the pan.

“I have to say, I needed that nap.” You laughed, following Chris to the grill.

“Are the kids still passed out?” Scott asked, watching you take a seat next to Tom. Chris started grilling the food.

“Yup” you answered. “I restarted the movie so they’d have the background noise.”

“Aren’t you cold?” Tom asked, seeing you were still in your fuzzy socks and sweater.

You shrugged, sipping your coffee. “I’m good for now. Anyone know what the plans are for the rest of the day?”

“Food. Probably hit the store in a bit. I think jetlag is gonna hit everyone harder than they think” Chris laughed.

“We should go get stuff for drinks after lunch” Scott suggested.

“I’m in. We should get a list from your mom of anything else she thinks we’ll need right away” you replied.

“Do you mind if I tag along?” Tom asked, looking between you and Scott.

“Of course, not” you answered, shivering a bit as the cold soaked through your sweater.

“Scott, can you go grab a pan for the cooked meat” Chris asked.

“Sure thing” Scott answered, getting up.

“Can you grab the blanket by the door?” you called out as he walked towards the cabin.

“God, do I have to do everything around here” Scott teased in a dramatic voice, making the rest of you laugh.

“Would you like my jacket?” Tom asked as you took another sip of your coffee.

You turned to look at him and shook your head no, a soft smile on your face.

When your gaze lingered a bit longer than one would call socially acceptable, Tom’s cheeks turned pink. “Do I have something on my face?”

You laughed. “No, you’re just…hear me out…like, if I were to write a perfect gentleman into whatever story I’m writing…I think that’s you…you check all of the boxes.”

Tom smiled and cleared his throat. “If I may ask, is that a compliment or are you trying to gently inform me that I’m incredibly boring.”

Chris let out a loud laugh, which prompted both of you to laugh. “I meant it as the highest compliment” you assured him.

“Well, in that case, I’m extremely flattered.” Tom replied, lifting his arm and prompting you to fill the small gap between the two of you. When you’d scooted against his side, he wrapped his arm around your shoulders.

When Scott returned, he tossed the blanket over both of your laps, going to stand by the grill with Chris. By the way they would take turns glancing back at you and Tom, you assumed they were talking about you.

“Chris mentioned that you do some sort of writing or consulting outside of your books.” Tom said, simply wanting to get to know you better.

You laughed, knowing that it drove Chris crazy not knowing what else you did for work. “Well, that’s accurate.”

“Is it safe to assume you won’t tell me what it is?” Tom smirked.

“I mean, never say never” you replied, looking up at Tom.

“Well, if I can’t know what else you do for work, what do you do for fun?” He continued, the two of you chatting until it was time to go inside to eat.

It felt good to have the cabin full of people. Chris’ family and a few of their family friends, including you and Tom, spent the next hour eating, laughing, and telling embarrassing stories about each other as you do when you’ve got the whole family together.

You were banished from the kitchen when you’d tried to help with the dishes. “You and the boys go do your shopping, we’ll clean up” Lisa said, handing you a short list and shooing you away.

“Now I know where Chris gets his stubbornness” you teased, hearing Lisa laugh as you left the kitchen.

You climbed the stairs, stopping at Chris and Tom’s rooms, both of them sitting in Chris’ room with Scott. “You guys ready to go?”

“Just waiting for you” Scott replied.

“Let me grab my jacket and my shoes and I’ll meet you guys’ downstairs.” When you made it outside, Chris already had your SUV started, letting the heating warm up.

“Mind if I drive?” he hollered out the window.

You shook your head no, walking around to the side of the truck and climbing into the back seat next to Tom. Scott was sat up front in the passenger seat. “I’ve got the list from your mom.”

“Then we are ready to rock n roll” Chris said, looking in the various mirrors to make sure it was safe to back-up.

Chris drove around the town for a while. He drove down a few scenic roads showing Tom the beautiful landmarks. When he saw a perfect, untouched patch of snow he insisted the four of you make snow angels. Of course, he made sure to get a picture of everyone laying in their angel.

Next stop was the liquor store. You pushed the cart around with Tom as Scott and Chris added various bottles and pre-made beverages to the cart.

“Y/n!” you heard Scott call from a few aisles over.

“Yes?” you laughed, looking to see if he was going to pop around the corner.

“Do you have a beer pong table?” It was Chris’ voice you heard this time.

You and Tom laughed at the brothers. “No” you answered.

“If I had to bet, I’d say that you’re about to be the proud owner of a brand-new beer pong table.” Tom laughed, walking with you towards the front of the store.

When you rounded the corner, you saw the brothers walking towards you. Scott had a fold-up beer pong table in his hands and Chris had two cases of White Claw and a bag of red solo cups in his.

“White Claw?” you laughed.

“Less calories than beer means that I have to spend less time at the gym while I’m here.” Chris replied, putting everything in the cart. “Speaking of, Tom do you want to work out with me in the mornings?”

“Absolutely” Tom replied. “I was a bit nervous to go running with all of the ice and snow.”

“I’d be more worried about the bears” you said, watching his eyes go wide.

“Now I’m extra glad that I didn’t try to run this morning” Tom said, following you as you pushed your cart to the front of store checkout. Chris pulled his card out before you could even offer to pay.

Next stop was the grocery store.

As Chris and Scott gathered the things on their mother’s shopping list, you took Tom to the baking aisle. “You mentioned that your family bakes when everyone gets together.”

“I did.” Tom smiled as he continued. “My mother and my sisters are usually baking some sort of sweet.”

“Well…” You gestured to the various options laid out in front of you. “What do you want to bake?”

“Really?” Tom asked, looking over at you.

“We can make pretty much anything” you answered. “I mean, unless you don’t want to.”

“No, no. I do.” Tom replied, swallowing back a bit of emotion. “I just…I know we really only just met so you have no way of knowing any of the craziness that has been going on in my life.”

You could sense a bit of hesitation in Tom so you reached out and grabbed one of his hands in yours.

Tom smiled, his eyes watering a touch. “And I’m not complaining, I promise you. I’m grateful that I’ve been afforded so many opportunities. I just…I only got to see my family for 4 days all last year. Home is the one place I feel like I can completely be myself and relax and…Well, when I found out I wasn’t going to see my family on the one break I have for the next three months, I didn’t expect…”

When he stopped talking, you slid your arms around his middle, pulling him into a hug.

“I apologize.” He said, wrapping his arms around you. “I’m sure a simple ‘thank you’ would have been a much more eloquent response.”

You could feel a light laugh rumble in his chest. “Don’t apologize.” You loosened your arms a bit to pull back from the hug.

Tom’s arms held you against himself for a moment before letting you go. “What is your favorite thing to bake?” he asked you.

You thought for a moment before answering. “Cookies.”

“Then I’d love to bake cookies with you” he replied, turning towards the various bags of chocolate chips.

“FYI” you said, grabbing a small bag of sugar and flour.

“Yes?” he put two different types of chocolate chips in the basket.

“I think anything you say in that accent sounds eloquent.” You pushed the cart further down the aisle to grab the oil. You could hear Tom laugh behind you.

“I’ll have to remember that.”

When the four of you got back to the car, Chris recommended picking up pizza for dinner since you guys had been gone a few hours.

“Just text your mom to make sure she isn’t already working on something.” You replied

When Chris got the green light on his pizza plans from Lisa, he placed the order over the phone and you guys picked it up on the way back to the cabin.

As everybody dug into the pizza, you took your baking supplies to the kitchen to tuck them away. You wanted to make sure that no one else used them before you could bake the cookies with Tom. Deciding to catch up on your work emails, you grabbed a slice of pizza and headed upstairs to your room. Sat at your desk with your headphones blasting your favorite music, you started replying to potential project proposals and questions your publishers had about your next works.

Because of your headphones, you didn’t hear Tom walk into your room about a half hour later. As he walked up to your desk, he was calling out your name not realizing you couldn’t hear him.

Standing behind your chair, he glanced at one of your computer screens, understanding what you’d been doing since you’d disappeared. What he didn’t expect, though, was what project you were currently emailing about.

See, most of the people that knew you as an author knew you wrote books in the same category as Hunger Games or Beautiful Creatures…Well, having the ability to hide completely behind an anonymous pen name let you venture into some projects that you deemed a bit more…fun? Maybe spicy is the right word.

Feeling bad for accidentally snooping, Tom put his hand on your shoulder to get your attention, scaring the absolute shit out of you. You threw your headphones off and turned in your chair, your heart going a million miles an hour.

Tom was stood there trying not to laugh. “I’m so sorry.”

“OH, dear god” you laughed, laying your hand over your heart and leaning back in your chair. “You about gave me a heart attack.”

“I was meant to come and tell you the brothers want to play beer pong, but I think they can wait a bit longer.” Tom said with a grin on his face.

You tilted your head to the side, confused as to what Tom meant. “That sounds both ominous and sexy” you laughed.

Tom chuckled and turned your chair back to face your computer. “Mind telling me what project you’ve got coming up?”

“Now it makes more sense” you continued laughing. On your screen was the proposed cover of your new book in an email you were replying to. You leaned your chair back so you were looking at Tom upside down. “You sure you can handle it?”

“I’m a bit offended that you think I can’t” Tom answered.

“You asked for it” you replied, standing up and walking over to your door. Sliding the lock in place, you walked to your closet, turning to Tom. “You coming?”

Tom opened his mouth to speak and paused, choosing to simply nod and follow.

Walking to the back of your closet, you pushed your clothes to the side and opened another door. This was your writing room. Specifically, for your ‘adult’ books.

You’d covered the walls in inspiration, essentially. In addition to your mainstream ‘young adult’ or ‘new adult’ novels, you wrote adult books…erotica…but your books were very inclusive. They featured various orientations, gendered pairings, gender identities, ethnicities, body shapes, body sizes, and various forms of being differently abled. Your walls were covered in artwork that featured real bodies in all of their various forms.

“So, this is your secret career?” Tom asked, looking at all of the various things hung on the walls.

“One of them” you answered, opening a cabinet full of dozens of books.

As Tom sorted through them, he understood your niche. “I think this is brilliant” he said, staring at you with an eye crinkling smile.

“Thanks” you replied, feeling your cheeks warm. “I don’t know how I thought you were going to react, but that definitely wasn’t it.”

“I mean it” he replied, continuing to look at the various books. “I love storytelling. Obviously, it’s a huge reason why I pursued acting. I love literature and music and many other various forms of art but acting has been my passion for so long. It’s only now that I’m realizing how narrow of a range that I’m personally capable of expressing.”

“Hey, that’s not true” you replied.

“That came out wrong” Tom turned to you. “What I meant to say was that as an actor I will never be able to personally tell many of these stories. Sex aside, obviously.” Tom lightly laughed.

“The only reason I was able to tell a lot of them was because I talked to and got to know people that had little to no representation IN these kinds of stories.” You pulled out a box of letters and printed emails. “When I started writing these books, I wrote for women that looked like me. Bigger women are rarely cast as the romantic lead, in literature or on screen. When we are, we have to go through some stupid ‘worthless to worthy’ journey where a ‘special kind of man’ swoops in to complete us and convince us we deserve love. We’re never just allowed to happily exist AND have a happy ever after.”

When you turned to look at Tom, he caught you off guard by roughly pressing his lips against yours as his hands held either side of your face. When he pulled back, his hands lingered a moment longer. “I do apologize. I couldn’t help myself.” He cleared his throat and turned back to the box you had pulled out. “Please, go on.”

You stared at him a moment longer, trying to gather your thoughts before turning back to the letters. “What I was saying before you so delightfully interrupted me…” You glanced at him, seeing him lick his bottom lip as he smiled. “Under my pen name, I run a page online. People send me their personal stories, fantasies, questions, worries…These people come in more than just various shapes and sizes. Some of them are in wheelchairs or are not as able bodied as you and me. I have a woman with Tourette’s who shares stories about her sex life and romantic life with her wife while living with her various tics. I just saw that someone started a new forum for people who have had mastectomies. When I go to write a story that represents something I can’t personally speak to, I talk to those that can. I get permission to even attempt to represent them. Sex is the easiest part of these to write. I feel responsible to do right by them and to translate the truth of their experience into a bit of romantic escapism. If they want to, everyone should be able to find characters they can relate to.”

“I think that what you’ve done is really, quite incredible.” Tom complimented you.

“Thank you” you replied, chuckling. “It’s weird getting compliments for essentially writing porn.”

Tom laughed, turning one of the books over in his hand. “Am I allowed to read any of them?”

“Go for it” you replied. “You just cannot tell Chris about any of this. At all. Pinky promise?” You extended your pinky towards Tom.

With a very serious face, Tom hooked his pinky in yours and answered. “I wouldn’t dare.”

“We should probably go downstairs. Chris and Scott are probably wondering why the hell we’re taking so long” you laughed, walking out of your writing room.

Tom turned to grab a book before following you out, closing the door on his way. “I’m going to tuck this in my bag in my room.”

“I’ll meet you down there.” When you got to the bottom of the stairs, you saw Scott and Chris practicing their aim with no beer in the cups. “Who against who?”

“Us against you two, obviously” Chris answered, Scott switching to stand on the same side of the table as Chris.

“Oh, it’s like that?” you laughed, opening two of the cans and filling your cups.

“You guys don’t stand a chance” Scott added. “Has Tom ever even played beer pong?”

“I have, actually” he answered, coming down the stairs.

“Then let’s see what you got!” Chris teased, acting like a total frat boy.

The four of you played quite a few rounds before your lack of sleep and buzz from the alcohol finally got the better of you.

“I’m calling it quits” you said, covering your mouth as you yawned.

“I should probably go to bed too since I’m setting an alarm for 6 am to go work out” Chris pouted, letting his head fall back.

“I’ll set mine as well” Tom added.

“You guys are so boring” Scott teased, starting to clean up the cups.

You grabbed the cups from yours and Tom’s side as well as all of the empty cans and started walking towards the kitchen to throw them away.

“I’ll grab those” Tom said, taking the cups from Scott and following you into the kitchen.

You dumped the cups and cans in the trash and turned to see Tom walking in with the rest of them. “Thanks.”

Tom dropped the cups into the trash and turned to you. “About earlier…”

“About that…” you smiled, half asleep and tipsy. You loosely wrapped your arms around Tom’s middle. “Want to explain yourself?”

Tom chuckled. “I think my actions were self-explanatory.” He placed one hand on your cheek, the other pushing your hair out of your face.

“I don’t know” you teased. “I think I need further explanation.”

“Explanation or demonstration?” Tom asked, his thumb brushing against your bottom lip.

You pretended to be considering the two options for only a few seconds before his lips were against yours again.

“Y/n!” Scott called. You could hear him and Chris talking just around the corner.

You felt like two teenagers being caught by parents. You and Tom broke apart, both scrambling to be pretending to do something else. He ended up pulling the trash bag out of the bin and tying it up even though it could clearly hold more trash and you ended up unloading the dishwasher.

“What happened to going to bed?” Chris asked, confused as to why you two were doing chores.

“I’m going” you replied. “I just didn’t want your mom to have to do this in the morning.”

“Well then you should have asked for help” Chris replied, helping you finish unloading the dishes. Scott started wiping down the counters and refilled the paper towels. Tom tried to hide the smirk on his face as he took the trash to the outside bin, but he wasn’t doing a very good job of it.

“Okay, that’s it. I’m going to bed for real this time” you said, putting the last glass away.

When you woke up the next morning you could hear someone in your shower. Part of you hoped that maybe Tom had come up to use yours since him and Chris would both want to shower after coming back from the gym.

“Good morning, sunshine.” Chris said, interrupting your short daydream about a very sweaty Tom walking into your room after working out.

“Oh, it’s just you” you teased him, turning over and snuggling back into your bed.

“Damn, someone woke up in a mood” Chris teased back, walking toward your bed with a towel wrapped around his bottom half. “You hoping it was someone else?”

“A girl can dream” you turned over to smirk at him.

“Are you two a thing?” He asked, dropping down to lay in your bed.

“I don’t know” you answered honestly.

“Do you like him?” Chris continued, laughing when you blushed.

“I mean, I haven’t exactly gotten to know everything about him, but I think he’s kind of great.” You replied.

“Well, for what it’s worth I approve” he said, rolling back out of your bed and heading downstairs to get dressed.

Part 3

#tom hiddleston #Tom Hiddleston x reader #Tom Hiddleston x curvy reader #Tom Hiddleston imagine #loki

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bluesylveon2 · 3 years

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My My, I Could Never Let You Go

Summary: Sasha Zoe just wants her dad to walk her down the aisle. There is only one problem: she doesn't know who her dad is! Sasha invites 3 men in hopes of finding out which one is her father. What could possibly go wrong?

Pairings: Levi x Hange, Sasha x Niccolo, and other background relationships

Disclaimer: This is a Levihan Mamma Mia au. This fanfic is inspired by Mamma Mia which is directed by Phyllida Loyd, written by Catherine Johnson, and uses music from the pop group ABBA. Attack on Titan is a manga/anime series written by Hajime Isayama and published by Kondasha

Author’s Note: NOW EDITED! This chapter and maybe the next few will include character background. I know the movie doesn’t include that, but I am! This story will have some added/deleted scenes from the movie. I hope you like it though! Also, the characters are in their Season 4 looks. The 104 group will be 20-21. Niccolo is 23. The adults:

Yes, the adults are mostly in their 40′s, but look young. Let’s just go with it

I will try to keep a weekly or week and a half update depending on school.

Now let’s move to the chapter where we meet a happy and engaged Sasha! 😁

Need to catch up? Catch up here!

Ch 1: Honey, Honey

Kalokairi, Greece

1 day before the wedding

Two passengers walk out of the docked ferry. Mikasa - the tall one with short jet black hair and dark brown eyes - was grabbing the rest of her stuff while her friend Historia - the shorter one with long blonde hair and blue eyes - searched for Sasha. It didn’t take Historia long to find her. Sasha wasn’t hard to find. Despite her wearing her brown hair in a ponytail and wearing casual clothes; she was running towards them at full speed. Sasha also held a small book with her.

“OH MY GOSH! YOU ARE FINALLY HERE!!!!” Sasha screamed as she ran towards her friends on the dock.

Mikasa Ackerman is half Japanese and half German. She originally lived in Rothenburg ob der Tauber in Germany but moved to Kalokairi after her parent’s death when she was a teenager. Mikasa’s parents dreamed of visiting the island one day when Mikasa was older. She used to sit on her mother’s lap as she told her about the island's beauty. After Mikasa’s parents died, her great aunt on her mother’s side reached out to her from Japan and provided Mikasa enough money to move to Kalokairi. Mikasa’s great aunt was unable to take care of Mikasa because of her old age, so Mikasa chose to live in Kalokairi to fulfill her parent’s dream. The only downside was that Mikasa lived alone. Her home is a 2 bedroom, 2 bathroom home. It’s enough for a person, but Mikasa felt alone without her parents. It was where she met Eren Jaeger's family. Eren’s mom, Carla, often invited Mikasa to eat so she wouldn’t get lonely. Eren gave Mikasa a red scarf as she was leaving the Jaeger household. He claimed it was a gift, so she didn’t feel lonely. Mikasa, touched by the gift, started visiting the Jaeger family more, and she even met Eren’s freind, Armin. The Jaeger home became Mikasa’s second home, and Mikasa was not alone anymore. It changed after Historia moved the island.

Historia Reiss came from Munich and ran to Kalokairi to get away from her family. She felt confined in her home when all she wanted was freedom. She had also learned the ugly truth behind her family name a week after moving in with her father, Rod Reiss. Her uncle, Uri, was the CEO of the Fritz company, a conglomerate in Germany with other branches across Europe. The company also did some shady business orchestrated by Rod, but it was hidden from the public. The only plus for Historia staying home was seeing sister, Freida, more often.

The only downside of running away to another country was not knowing the language. Historia was walking around the island when she accidentally bumped into Mikasa. Mikasa noticed how lost Historia looked, so she invited her into her home. Historia spills her entire life story (including her real name) to Mikasa the moment Mikasa sat down in the chair in front of her to eat dinner. Historia was horrified after she finished her story. She just told her story to a stranger who is most likely going to kick her out. Historia flinched when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked up to find Mikasa looking down at her with a smile. Mikasa understands what it is like to be alone, so she invites Historia to stay in her home. The girls eventually lived together as roommates until they had to leave for their modeling careers. Mikasa and Historia have even walked in Milan Fashion Week.

The home is still under Mikasa’s name (originally it was under her great aunt, but it went to Mikasa after her passing). The girls (and everyone in their friend group), use it when they stay on the island. The current inhabitants are Hanami and Mina since they were the first to arrive. Mikasa, Annie, Hitch, and Historia are the only girls from the group staying at the hotel.

Historia also started going by her real name after an incident with the company. Rod went to prison and Freida became the new CEO. She and Freida keep in touch often via mail to make up for the lost time and update each other of their lives. Historia told Freida about her freinds, her new maternal figure (Hange), and her girlfriend, Ymir.

Sasha met Mikasa and Historia on the island in high school. Mikasa was with her friends, Eren and Armin when Sasha met her. They were often paired up for projects and events that their friendship happened naturally over time. Sasha met Historia when she gave her some bread after Sasha was caught eating in class. Mr. Shadis, their teacher, is really a strict man. He made Sasha run laps around the whole school as punishment. Sasha wouldn’t stop thanking Historia after that.

“SASHA!!!!!!” Historia shoved her stuff towards Mikasa and began running towards Sasha.

“MIKASAAAAA!!!! HISTORIA!!!!!!!!!” Sasha continued yelling before glomping Historia. Luckily Historia caught herself without falling into the water.

“And where is my hug?” Sasha heard behind Historia before looking up to see Mikasa smirking at her. Sasha opened one arm out to initiate a group hug.

Mikasa briefly put both her’s and Historia’s stuff down and joined in on the hug.

“Ugh, it’s been so long! I missed you both so much!” Sasha complained dramatically as she let go of the girls. Mikasa and Historia grab their things and start heading towards the beach with Sasha.

Sasha looked at the group and noticed someone was missing.

“Is Ymir not coming, Historia?” Sasha asked while tilting her head to the side.

“No,” Historia says sadly, thinking about her girlfriend as she looks down as she walks. “She has caught up with work lately and won’t be able to attend your wedding.” Historia looked up and smiled “She wanted me to tell you congrats on your engagement though.”

“Well we would have been here earlier, but someone” Mikasa glared at Historia “insisted on being fashionably late” Mikasa grumbled. She gave air quotes on the words fashionably late with her free hand.

“Well are we?” Historia giggled. She waved her hand innocently while ignoring Mikasa’s last statement

“No” Sasha laughed “Aunt Nanaba and Aunt Rico will be here later on today, and Aunt Pieck will be here tomorrow.”

Aunt Pieck is Sasha’s only known family member from her mom’s side.

(Sasha also heard about a grandmother, but her mom never talks about her)

According to Hange, Pieck is Hange’s younger cousin. Hange’s mom and Pieck’s mom are sisters, but they weren’t that close. Hange’s mom was more focused on her singing career, and Pieck’s mom wanted to focus on her daughter. As a result, Hange would often visit Pieck’s house in Santorini. Pieck would tell her stories about Kalokairi during one of Hange’s visits. Pieck’s stories of Kalokairi sparked Hange’s interest in the island. Pieck is currently a photographer who lives in Portugal after marrying Porco Galliard. She met Porco after a photoshoot in Spain.

Porco is a veteran from Portugal. His brother, Marcel, is also a veteran and he was in the same unit as Porco. Both brothers began traveling around Europe after finishing their service before settling down. One day, the brothers were in Valencia, Spain after hearing of the La Tomatina Festival in Bunol. Porco met Pieck during the festival after she threw a squashed tomato straight at his face. Porco had to face her alone (Marcel was somewhere deep in the crowd) and decided to get back at her. It was a battle between speed (Porco) and stamina (Pieck, Porco had no idea how Pieck was not getting tired). According to Aunt Pieck, it was like the others in the crowd didn’t matter to them. It was her vs Porco. The two got to learn more about each other after the festival ended, and they exchanged numbers.

Sasha has not seen her Aunt Pieck since her high school graduation. Her aunt had moved to left Greece after marrying Porco, so her visits were less frequent. Nevertheless, Sasha enjoyed looking at the postcard and photos her aunt sends every year. Seeing her aunt and uncle’s happy faces puts a smile on Sasha’s face. She wishes her mom had a similar experience.

“I knew we should’ve waited longer,” Historia complained to Mikasa and threw her arms up for dramatic effect.

“Yeah me too,” Mikasa says sarcastically and rolls her eyes.

“Speaking of guests, are the other girls here already?” Historia asks Sasha and looks around the beach expecting the others to magically appear before them.

“The other girls are here,” Sasha replies “Mina is hanging out with Marco, Hitch is dragging Marlowe around the island, Annie is on a date with Armin, and Hanami is probably trying not to kill Jean. She has been here longer and is working together with Jean on the wedding”

Hanami is a sweet but oblivious girl they had all met in high school. She is known for making rash decisions, and it worried them. Jean usually reprimands her for being rash, and Hanami would fight back verbally. She and Jean used to not get along before, but their friendship has improved over the years. Nowadays, the both of them just like messing with one another.

“Let’s hope that your wedding does not end in disaster,” Mikasa says with a hint of worry in her voice.

Their friend, Hanami Richter, is Sasha’s maid of honor. She was born in Greece after her parents moved from Cambridge. She is both Japanese and German like Mikasa, but looks more European. Hanami has short dark brown hair, dark brown eyes, and wears glasses. She looks like she could be Sasha’s long lost sister. (The girls switched places once, but Hange figured out ‘Sasha’ was not Sasha. Luckily Hange didn’t get mad, but she was impressed). Hanami is currently attending the University of Vienna to study International Business Administration.

“Oh!” Historia exclaimed in an attempt to change the subject “Show us your ring!”

Sasha laughed before stopping their walk to extend her left hand. She showed Historia the beautiful ring on her ring finger. The ring consisted of a 2-carat diamond glistened from the sunlight. The ring was not too over the top. It was a white gold ring with a diamond placed in the center surrounded by smaller diamonds to form a halo.

Historia let out a whistle “Niccolo did really well! Let me take a picture and send this to Ymir. She was expecting a big diamond”

Niccolo is a young chef with wavy blonde hair and green eyes. Niccolo dreams of working as an executive chef after traveling the world. However, no one appreciated his cooking despite working in a famous restaurant. Sasha met him when she and her girl friends went on a summer trip to Italy. During the trip, the group decided to eat dinner at a well-known restaurant in Rome. Everyone, especially Sasha, was enjoying their meal until Sasha started eating her lobster. The girls will never forget how Sasha couldn’t stop complimenting the lobster that she wanted to meet the chef who made it. Niccolo was shocked when his co-worker mentioned what was going on outside the kitchen. Someone was actually appreciating his cooking and he moved them to tears! Niccolo had no choice but to agree. He wanted to meet this person. Surprisingly to the girls, the restaurant let her meet the chef, but only after closing time. Sasha was in tears as she hugged Niccolo, and Niccolo was shocked to see how his food affected her. (Niccolo never told Sasha, but it was love at first sight for him). They met again months later when Jean invited Niccolo over to Kalokairi to surprise Sasha. Sasha and Niccolo eventually started dating, and Niccolo proposed to her after 2 years of dating.

As Historia took some pics on her phone, Mikasa remembered what Sasha mentioned in their group chat before they arrived.

“Sasha, what’s the big news you mentioned a few days ago?”

“Right!” Sasha exclaimed and covered her mouth with her unoccupied hand “I want you guys to guess before the big reveal.”

Historia was pocketing her phone and let Sasha drop her hand back to the side. Historia let out a gasp. She put one hand on Sasha’s shoulder and the other on her stomach.

“You're pregnant?!?!?!” Historia yelled

“No no no! You're wrong Historia.” Sasha laughed and held up both of her hands in front of her body

(Historia was relieved. Mikasa considered Niccolo lucky because won’t be sporting a black eye on his wedding day. She didn’t say that out loud)

“So what is it then Sasha?” Mikasa after the girls started walking again.

“Weeeellllllll. I invited my dad to my wedding!” Sasha screams with glee

“What?!” “You finally found him” Mikasa and Historia shouted at the same time and looked at Sasha

“Not exactly,” Sasha replied before sitting down on a rock down the beach with the girls. Their spot at least gave them some privacy to talk.

Suddenly, Sasha’s happy expression turned serious. “You also cannot tell anyone what I'm about to say. You have to promise me that and do the salute to it too?”

“Yes ma'am. We promise” Mikasa and Historia said before facing Sasha and doing their salute. They put both of their hands in a fist. They placed their right fist over their heart and their left fist behind their backs. It was the secret salute their friend group came up with in high school. Mikasa and Historia sat down on some rocks across from Sasha after they did the salute.

“You know what my mom says when I ask about my father. It was a summer romance, and he was gone before she realized she was pregnant with me. I would accept it and never ask more questions.”

Historia put a hand on Sasha’s shoulder and gave her an empathetic smile. She understood where Sasha is coming from. Historia didn’t know much about her family as a child since she grew up with only her mom. She met them after her first year in high school, but it was not a pleasant experience, and she would rather choose to forget it (except for Freida).

Mikasa also gave Sasha a smile before motioning with her hand to continue.

Sasha smiled at both of her friends. “Well guess what Hanami and I found while looking through the attic for wedding decorations,” Sasha says before pulling out a leather journal. It was a brown journal that looked worn and had a leather strap to seal the book closed.

“Is that-?” Mikasa asked

“No way-” Historia began

“Yes!” Sasha squealed “It is my mom’s old diary she kept while she was pregnant with me.”

Sasha set the diary on her lap and opened it to one of the bookmarked pages. She began to read a journal entry.

July 17

What a night! Levi took me to a secluded beach here on the island. We danced on the beach. We kissed on the beach and-

“Dot dot dot,” Sasha said

“Dot dot dot?” Mikasa asked with a perplexed look on her face.

“What does that mean?” Historia asked Sasha confused

“Who knows?” Sasha replied with a shrug “It’s from the olden times. They had weird terminology back then. Now let me continue.”

Sasha stood up abruptly and walked off from Mikasa and Historia. The girls quickly grabbed their things as they stood up and followed Sasha.

Levi is such an amazing guy! Yeah, he may be short, is always scowling, has a funny way to drink tea, and tells poop jokes, but he is such a sweetheart. He never shows it to others, but only me. Me! I get dizzy looking at his charm and going on new adventures with him. Is he some sort of a love machine? He's practically everything I want in a guy! I really think he's the one.

“Your mom sounds like she’s really in love with this Levi guy.” Mikasa comments (she also starts questioning Hange’s tastes in men. A guy who scowls and tells poop jokes? That baffled Mikasa.)

“I think it’s cute,” Historia says with hearts in her eyes and turns to Sasha “Is Levi your father?”

“Oh but wait” Sasha stops walking on a cliff that overlooks the sea. She gestures to Mikasa and Historia to sit down before continuing.

All this time Levi tells me he loves me, but I’m doubting that now. He’s been hiding things from me, and I found out about it this morning. He suddenly announced that he was engaged, and had to leave to get married.

How dare he?! I was too blinded by anger to think rationally. I packed Levi’s stuff, dragged Levi out of my house, and threw his stuff (and Levi) to the nearest ferry while demanding him to leave. I didn’t want to see him again, and I didn’t want him to see how heartbroken I was.

“Oh no. Poor Hange” Historia says sadly. Mikasa didn’t say anything, but she scowled instead.

“The plot thickens,” Sasha says and continues reading

I texted Nanaba and Rico to do some snooping for me since the internet can be weak here on the island. I gave them the information I knew about Levi and let them do the rest. Rico managed to find some things about Levi.

How dare he? He lied to me this whole time about his last name, how he is the heir of Ackerman Bank, and possibly his love for me? No wonder he was acting mysterious when we first met. I just want to-

Sasha stops abruptly. She looked at the page again to be sure she was reading it right. The page had her mother’s writing, but there were some scribbles and small crinkles. Sasha knew right away that her mother must have cried while writing the entry.

“There are multiple tear marks and some scribbles here” Sasha comments with a solemn expression on her face.

Historia and Mikasa looked at Sasha with sorrow. It seemed as if her mom went through a lot before she was born.

There was a moment of silence until Historia spoke up in an attempt to lighten up the mood.

“At least your mom didn’t damage the diary, or we wouldn’t have any clue who your father is. Remember that time Eren and Connie accidentally knocked over that old vase at the hotel?”

All 3 girls shivered at the memory

“Well, at least the journal didn’t meet your mom’s wrath. We got lucky there.” Mikasa says with a small smile on her face

“Yeah” Sasha laughed. It’s rare for her mom to get angry. She has only seen her mother really angry once, and it was after the incident. Luckily, her mom never got mad at her. She showered her with love and affection instead.

Sasha turned the page to another bookmarked section and looked to her friends sitting nearby. Historia looked as if she was in deep thought. Her arm was propped up on her knee and she rested her head on her fist.

“Something on your mind Historia?” Sasha asked

Historia perked up at Sasha’s question. She then glanced at Mikasa and then the journal. Historia looked at Sasha.

“You said Levi’s last name is Ackerman, right? What if Mikasa is related to him?”

Historia gasped and turned to Mikasa with a gleeful look on her face “You and Sasha could be related! Wouldn’t that be fun?”

“I would rather not be related to Mr. Poop Jokes. He hurt Hange and he sounds like an asshole.” Mikasa scoffed and dismissed the idea. It would be nice to be related to Sasha, but not through Levi.

Meanwhile, Sasha laughed when Historia’s smile turned into a pout. She and Mikasa are really close friends. It would be nice to at least have one of her friends be blood-related to her.

“Wait until you hear this,” Sasha says before standing up and walking away from their spot on the beach. She started heading towards the stairs along a cliff while reading at the same time. Mikasa and Historia stood up and followed her. They don’t want to miss the rest of the story if they let Sasha walk away.

Both of them sweatdropped as they ran towards Sasha

“I don’t understand why she needs to walk off from us. I get that she needs to guide us to the hotel, but couldn’t we have heard the story all in one sitting?” Historia says to Mikasa

Mikasa shrugs before jogging (and dragging Historia behind her) to catch up to Sasha. Luckily Mikasa is still athletic from high school, so it didn't take her long to catch up.

August 4

I met Erwin Smith - a tall man with blond hair, blue eyes, and the biggest eyebrows I’ve ever seen. He looks like the star of the latest superhero movie - out of the blue when I was walking around town. He looked lost, so I offered to show him around the island. He’s such a sweet and understanding guy. Although I’m still obsessed with Levi, one thing led to another and-

“Dot. Dot. Dot” Sasha says laughing

Mikasa and Historia gasped as the girls made it towards the entrance of Hange’s hotel (aka Sasha’s home)

August 11

Mike Zacharias - a tall man with blonde hair, light green eyes, and has a tendency to sniff people - took me to his yacht for our nightly yacht ride. We spent the night gazing at the stars and telling stories.

The girls climbed up the steps towards the hotel. Once they made it to the top, Sasha stopped and turned around to face Mikasa and Historia before finishing up her story.

Mike is so wild and such a funny guy. One thing led to another and-

“Dot! Dot! Dot!” Sasha and Historia squealed at the same time. Mikasa watched her friends excitement with a smile on her face

A door opens behind the girls. Hange Zoe comes in with her full glory wearing her signature white shirt with overalls while carrying a broom. She sets it off towards a nearby wall.

“Here come the bridesmaids” Hange sang with her arms open for a hug

“Hange!” Mikasa and Historia say with excitement and run to get a hug and a kiss on the cheek from Hange. Sasha quickly hides the diary behind her back. She is thankful that her mom was focused on her friends instead of her.

“Look at you! You’re both so beautiful and you need to start growing” Hange ruffled their hair and laughed

“You look like you’re having fun” Hange smiled and gave them the proud look only a mother would give towards her children

“I used to have fun” she added with some reminiscence in her voice. She thought of the 3 men who impacted her life as she turned around to pick up her broom.

“Oh, we know.” Historia giggles before Mikasa discreetly elbowed her to tell her to shut up.

Hange looked at the girls suspiciously and Sasha smiled before motioning to her friends that they needed to go. Hange shrugged before going back to the door she came from, leaving Sasha and the others alone.

The girls let out a sigh of relief before heading to Sasha’s room. Hopefully, no one else runs into them or it would raise suspicion.

Sasha walked towards her bed and sat down once they made it to her room. Mikasa and Historia set their stuff off to the side and stood in front of Sasha.

“So, who is your dad? Levi, Erwin, or Mike?” Mikasa asked

“I don’t know!” Sasha exclaims

“But which one did you invite?” Historia asked

Sasha didn’t answer and stayed silent. Historia and Mikasa picked up on her silence and immediately knew

“Oh. My. God.” they said while simultaneously stepping back and sitting down on a nearby chest

Sasha squealed as she stood up. A big smile grew on her face

“Do they know?” Historia asked

“Well, would you write to a total stranger ‘Will you come to my wedding? You might be my father?’ No! They think mom sent the invites and no surprise with what’s in here-”

Sasha picks up the diary from her bed

“They said yes!” Sasha squealed causing Historia and Mikasa to jump up with glee

The girls proceed to have an impromptu dance party in Sasha’s room to celebrate. They danced around for a bit but stopped after Sasha decided to head out to her balcony with her mom’s diary. Mikasa and Historia stayed behind and sat down on Sasha’s bed. They wanted to give her space to think about everything so far.

“I’ve heard so much about them, and I want to know more about them too,” Sasha says softly to herself. She glances down at the diary and smiles “Once I do, I can know how much they mean to me.”

Skiathos, Greece

1 day before the wedding

Two taxis were heading to the Skiathos port. Both taxis were trying to reach the ferry before it left for Kalokairi.

Erwin sat calm and composed with his business suit, but he was nervous on the inside. How would Hange react to his sudden appearance? What would she say? Is she still with the other man? He can feel the timer to the meeting counting down in his head. “If only the taxi went a bit faster,” Erwin thought to himself.

Meanwhile, in another taxi, sat Levi. He was starting to get impatient. Levi cursed his luck before putting his pocket watch back in his shirt pocket. He would have been on Kalokairi a lot earlier if the 1 stop of the flight didn’t take too long. Levi leaned forward to tell the driver to speed up, but it seemed as if the ride to the port was too slow (in Levi’s opinion).

As Levi sat back, he dug into the pocket of his slacks for a small blue pouch. He untied the knot and dumped whatever was inside the pouch onto his palm. A simple yellow gold ring with a diamond fell out. Levi bought that ring weeks after coming back from Kalokairi and settling his family drama. It was kind of a dumb purchase if Levi thought really hard into it. He broke Hange’s heart and she kicked him out. It’s simple, really. Hange would not say yes if he had returned to Kalokairi and proposed to her.

Nevertheless, Levi thought yellow gold would look good on Hange’s skin because it reminded him of the yellow shirt she wore when they met. He only kept it because of the memories they had, and Levi will always treasure it. Levi puts the ring back in the pouch and pockets it. He doesn’t see himself opening it again if Hange decides to kick him out for a second time.

Both taxis make it to the port, and both Levi and Erwin run towards the ferry only to see it leaving.

“Damn it!” Levi yells

“I agree,” Erwin calmly says next to him

Levi looks up to find a tall man with blond hair and the biggest eyebrows he had ever seen, He didn’t notice Erwin’s presence until he spoke. Levi looked at him. He internally prayed to himself that he would make it to the wedding on time and see Hange.

“When is the next ferry leaving?” Levi asks Erwin. Levi didn’t know much Greek since Hange was the one who helped him before. He hoped the blonde stranger at least knew something

Erwin walks towards the nearest sign and reads it using basic Greek he learned years prior

“Monday,” Erwin says dejectedly and Levi groans in frustration

“Hey!” they hear from the sea and turn their heads

They both see a tall, blond-haired man with a mustache and a beard waving to them from a yacht. There was another man with him who looked like he was doing last-minute preparations before sailing.

“Are you heading to Kalokairi?” the man asks Levi and Erwin

“How did you know?” Levi yells. The man is a good distance away from him after all.

The man laughs “I could practically smell the desperation off of you” Erwin’s face turns red from embarrassment. Levi scowled

“You can come with me. The name’s Mike Zacharias by the way. That man over there” He points to a guy with brown hair styled in a pompadour “That’s Gelgar. He’s been taking care of my yacht since I was away. He can help bring us to the island.”

“Sure,” Erwin spoke up. “My name is Erwin Smith. He then raised a hand and gestured to Levi

“This is-”

“Levi Ackerman” Levi finishes for Erwin. Levi revealed his last name to them unlike when he first met Hange. Luckily both men didn’t make any connections between him and his family business.

Mike turned to Erwin “Well then, Erwin.” He turned to Levi “and Levi. You better hurry up and board the yacht soon. We are heading to Kalokairi once you are settled.” Mike said and walked off to check on everything with Gelgar

Levi sighed. He had no choice. He might as well go with Erwin and Mike since Mike is his only hope of reaching Kalokairi on time.

Meanwhile, Erwin recognized Mike after many years. He had some physical differences but didn’t look much different overall. Erwin knew that Mike was the man Hange was with when he came back to see her.

There is only one question that kept playing in Erwin’s head. Is Mike still with Hange?

References used/Notes:

Obviously the salute used in the military

Sasha having the girls salute is a nod to OVA 2 where she makes Reiner do it

Some inspiration from both Mikasa and Historia’s backstories

Hanami is my OC from AOT 2 FB (I posted what she looks like on my Tumblr bluesylveon2)

I added more characters because I want Sasha to have more friends in her bridal party

Levi being the heir of Ackerman Bank is based on list I found of big businesses in Germany. Two were based in Frankfurt and were only banking, hence the name

But Levi owns a cafe in the Prologue? Will be explained later

Sasha and Niccolo’s first meeting is from the recent episode

I decided for Porco to be Portuguese because Porco means pig in Portugese

I’ve heard of La Tomatina and it looks like fun

I base the character nationalities on names/some reddit posts. I saw one where Pieck was Greek so I added that to her character

I picked Santorini because it’s a city I want to visit one day. Also Sootopolis (from Pokemon) is based off of there

Hange’s diary is the same journal as the one seen in AOT (Ilse’s notebook and AOT 2 FB)

The ‘Erwin from a superhero movie’ is because of Chris Evans

Hange is canonically the scariest when mad. I tried to portray this with Levi’s backstory and the vase incident

I added the ring scene with Levi for future purpose

#levihan #levi x hange #levihan fanfiction #nicosasha #erwin x hange #mike x hange #aruani #hitch x marlow #mikenana #marco x mina #pokkopikku #snk #attack on titan

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fkingsteverogers · 3 years

Text

Tell Me We’ll Be Just Fine

A/N: A couple points: 1) I made a new blog for these writings to make them easier to find 2) I have a tag list! lmk if you want to be added to it 3) For my non US babes and others, your third amendment rights say you can’t be forced to house soldiers. Long Story Short

Contains TFATWS Episode 5 spoilers

****

With John Walker being Honorably Discharged after an International Incident, you’re stuck under house arrest. (The United States Government would tell you house arrest is too strong of a word, it’s simply Strongly Advised you stay in your apartment.) You want to scream from the rooftops that you had nothing to do with him, that it was all an act, but you’re being Strongly Advised, so that’s not an option. You hope, wherever he is, Bucky is having a better time than you are.

Five Days; Eastern Europe:

Bucky is not having a good time. They’re in a country where everyone wants them dead, holed up in a shitty motel and all he can think of is the absolutely devastated look on your face when he walked out the door. It makes him brood.

“You have to talk about her sometime.”

“Who?”

“Whoever makes you frown like that.”

“‘M not frowning. What do you know about it anyway? You’re single.” So maybe he was being an ass about it. You were so far away, probably cuddled up with John or Steve, and he was here, sitting in a motel room with Sam. John Walker was probably feeling you up right now, running his hand over those beautiful thighs of yours as you kissed him, making soft little noises--he clenches his fist so hard he breaks the bowl he’d been holding, splattering rice and beans all over the floor cracked tile floor.

“Yo, man, what the fuck?!”

Day One; New York City:

Steve’s allowed to visit, because of course he is. He flashes some badge and the guards (who are Strongly Advising you), stand down. “Why are you here, Stevie?” And you hate that you still call him Stevie. Stevie is what you called him on the quiet nights when you two were alone and he was still yours. Steve gives you his sad smile and you want to fall into his arms, to sob into his chest and tell him how you fucked it all up. You don’t.

“Just go, Stevie.”

Four Days; Eastern Europe:

Sam goes to do some surveillance, announcing that he “couldn’t deal with this shit,” leaving Bucky alone in the shitty room they were sharing. Before he’d been deployed, he would’ve spent an afternoon alone in a hotel curled up with a pretty girl or a handsome boy. During the war, he’d spend a quiet day catching up on some sleep or rereading a well loved copy of The Hobbit. During his Hydra days (which he hated thinking about but also couldn’t stop thinking about), there really weren’t days off. There were days where he killed and days where he didn’t. Since then, he’d spent most of his days off trying to remember how to be a human.

You had made those days feel like living again. And now you were John’s girl, dressed all pretty up for him and everything. Bucky’d been fucking stupid to think you’d want someone like him, someone damaged, someone with blood on his hands. You were good and soft and pretty. You spoke four languages and had probably read every book ever written.

You’d been good enough for Steve.

He breaks another bowl and has to lay down after.

Day Three; New York City:

You glare down the solider that’s sitting in your kitchen, eating a sandwich. “This is violating my Third Amendment Rights, you know.”

The smug bastard grins and keeps eating his sandwich.

Two Days; Louisiana:

“That shield’s the closest thing I’ve got left to a family, so when you retired it, I felt like I had nothing left.”

The mission had gone down as well as any of their missions go, they’d been shot at, gotten out by the skin of their teeth. Sam left to go back home as soon as he could, Bucky followed. Where else did he have to go?

“You have her.”

He didn’t, not really.

“I don’t want to talk about her, Sam.” Bucky tosses the shield, scowling deeply.

Sam sighs, catching the shield. He turned to face his friend, were they friends?, and looked him up and down. “Yeah, you do.” So maybe Bucky does want to talk about you, about how betrayed he feels by you choosing Walker over him. The government hadn’t been powerful enough to stop some gossip magazine from publishing a spread of you and Walker, you in a little red sundress that makes you look incredible and his hand on your thigh. There’s some bullshit story about how you met and had been so enamored with him you’d asked him for coffee on the spot.

It makes Bucky physically sick with rage.

Day Four; New York City:

After four days of being Strongly Advised, you’re ready to start pulling out your hair. The news is nonstop coverage of what happened to John Walker, the green beret who had gone crazy and killed a man in a moment of grief induced rage. And to top it all off, People released a spread that makes you want to scream. The whole shoot hadn’t been your idea, some government publicist had insisted it was necessary to sell the story. In reality, it’d been five hours with John’s hands all over you, grinning like the cat that got the cream. During a break, he’d asked you about Steve, his tone suggesting something that was none of his business.

“You don’t get to talk about Steve.” John had smirked at you, running his tongue over his teeth. It clearly annoyed him, someone thinking he wasn’t good enough for something. “What about your wife, John?” A look of surprise crosses his face but it’s gone in a moment, the mask he wears to keep people out back in place.

“Olivia isn’t part of the deal. I thought we could be friends,” he spits the word out like it’s dirty, “but clearly you’re not interested in that, clearly you’re interested in--”

“Be careful how you finish that sentence, John.” Your voice is low, betraying the landmine he’s almost stepped on. Given the chance, you’d stab John Walker in his pretty face. Decades in prison means nothing when the love of your life abandoned you and the man you thought you could count on ran out. (So maybe you were thinking about Bucky, it doesn’t actually matter.)

Bucky had been a solid presence in a sea of uncertainty. He’d made you feel safe and okay. After Steve’s departure and the death of Tony, the only member of your family left, solid and safety had been in short supply. He’d showed up, ate his cold beans in silence in the kitchen, and hadn’t left. He’d made you laugh in a way you hadn’t in months. You’d developed a routine, Bucky would wake up before you and boil water for tea, you’d stumble out and cook something to serve as breakfast, and you’d both go about your days. In the evenings, you’d come together, talk about the stupid shit that had happened during the day, watch a movie on Friday nights, and go to bed. It was nice to have a routine, something and someone you could depend on.

The nights had been quiet since he left.

Twelve Hours; New York City:

Bucky’s plane lands and he breathes a sigh of relief.

It’s raining when he steps out of the airport, a down pour by anyone’s standards. Fine by him, less people to avoid. He manages to make it to the little coffee shop outside your apartment without getting too soaked. Going up there wasn’t an option, not when you were probably angry with him for running out. So he sits, drinks endless cups of coffee and watches.

“She takes it two creams, no sugar, if you want to bring it up to her.” Bucky turns and finds himself face to face with Steve. His friend looks old, but happy, at peace even. There’s so much he wants to say, he wants to ask Steve why he left, what he thought about Walker. He wants to punch him or throttle him or hug him. Bucky wants a long fucking hug.

“I don’t think she wants to see me, punk.” Steve sits, shaking his head.

“I didn’t think she wanted to see me, either. Sometimes she doesn’t know what’s good for her..”

Before Bucky can reply, before he can really process what Steve is saying, he gets a text from Sam and he’s off to save the world again.

Day Five; New York City:

Because the universe hates you, you can’t even use your phone to entertain yourself. Someone leaked your personal number and it hadn’t stopped ringing since. And, since the internet has no nuance, they’re mostly death threats. You’re reading a book when the guards who are Strongly Advising you abandon their posts. There’s something going on, something that no one bothers to inform you about.

You go back to reading your book. Hopefully Bucky’s not being thrown through a wall.

Thirty Minutes; New York City:

Bucky gets thrown through a wall.

It fucking hurts and he’s dizzy after. Like can’t-walk-straight-am-I-actually-drunk-dizzy. Sam, the useless bastard, loads him into a taxi, tells him he’ll be fine, and gives the driver your address. Bucky’s dimly aware of this fact, aware of the fact that this poor man is driving him, a bleeding super solider, to the one place he wanted to be but wasn’t welcome.

Two Minutes; New York City:

The guards aren’t back by the time the downstairs buzzer starts ringing incessantly. You’re in the middle of your book, right at the moment where the head-strong damsel and the Lord she hated are about to kiss. You try to ignore it, With a groan, you stomp down to the doors.

Standing there, half supported by Vasily, the Russian cabbie (who is definitely into some shady business), is Bucky.

Now; New York City:

You thank Vasily, telling him you’ll pay for the cab when you see him on Friday for Shabbat, and take the bleeding Bucky into your arms. Bucky mumbles something, clearly speaking Russian but too lowly for you to actually understand. Vasily glares at him, muttering curses as he stalks away.

Dragging Bucky up to your sixth floor apartment means sharing a run in with Daisy Mae, your elderly neighbor who’s 90% blind and enjoys loitering in the elevator. She seems to take offense to Bucky mumbling Russian children’s songs to himself.

“Speak English dear, not Communism. We’re in the United States.”

“Mind the business that pays you, Daisy Mae.”

She hmphs, but doesn’t say anything else. Bucky, for his part, gives a rousing performance of the Russian alphabet. Finally, you get Bucky into your apartment and unceremoniously drop him on your couch.

It’s not long before he falls asleep, leaving you to stare at him for hours, wondering just what he’s going to say when he wakes up.

When he does wake up, it’s to the scent of your soap, sweet watermelon that always leaves an aching in the pit of his stomach. Waking up on your couch, smelling your soap, and listening to you cook feels like a dream. How many times had he thought about this exact moment while he was with Sam? Soon enough you’d turn the corner from the kitchenette and smile at him, that beautiful smile that never failed to make him feel a little dizzy.

And then he’d wake up in a shitty hotel room, listening to Sam take a shit through the paper thin walls.

He waits, but when you appear, you’re frowning anxiously. And God, you’re so fucking beautiful. You’re wearing a pair of tiny sleep shorts that expose your long legs to his greedy eyes. Your hair is pushed back off your face, exposing the most beautiful eyes he’s ever seen.

Steve was a lucky man, to be able to love you. Maybe one day he’ll find a woman like you to love, if he’s lucky. Has he ever been lucky?

Bucky looks confused when you appear holding tea. “Hi.” He doesn’t say anything back, just frowns back. Your mind races, realizing he probably doesn’t want to see you, that he was dropped off here by some well meaning friend, and he was going to get up and walk out the door again.

“At least let me clean you up before you go.” Bucky nods wordlessly, looking like he’s still a little stunned. He takes a seat at the kitchen table as you pull down the first aid kit you’d put together when Steve was still here. There’s a cut above his eyebrow that’s still oozing a little blood. It’s in such a place you have to situate yourself between his legs in order to get to it.

It’s quiet while you work, Bucky’s never been a man of many words and now he’s probably trying to figure out how to tell you you’re never going to see him again. As soon as he’s cleaned up well enough that you’re satisfied he won’t die sitting at your kitchen table, you step away to admire your handy work. Bucky’s left hand, his metal hand, catches your wrist and pulls you back to him. It holds you there while his right hand comes up to cup your face, running a thumb over your cheekbone.

“You’re so beautiful.”

He’s not sure what possesses him when he pulls you back into him. All he knows is if he doesn’t get you close, if he doesn’t tell you how fucking beautiful you are, he won’t be able to breathe. You make a little noise of exasperation, your gorgeous lips parting. “I mean it.” “Bucky…” You try to pull away but he holds you there, studying every inch of your face and committing it to memory. There’s an electricity between the two of you, it feels like the air is charged enough to light that stupid snail lamp you’d bought from Arrow or whatever that store you loved was called. “Bucky…” You repeat, your voice softer, in a tone he can’t quite describe

Before either of you can move or say anything else, the door swings open to reveal Sam and Torres, flanked by three soldiers. None of them take notice of what feels like a very compromising position.

“Oh good, you’re here, Sargent Barnes. You're all being moved to a safe house. Pack enough for an indeterminate amount of time.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #tfatws #tfatws x reader #tfatws imagine #I hope ya'll like this one as much as the other one!!#these idiots don't realize they're in love and I HATE it #I have all kinds of plans and I'm so excited for this to become a series #marvel imagine #marvel x reader #ls!reader #Sara writes

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mostlysignssomeportents · 3 years

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All the books I reviewed in 2020

I know it's a little late for Xmas shipping, but I'm FINALLY getting around to publishing a roundup of all the books I reviewed in 2019!

Part 1: FICTION FOR ADULTS

I. AGENCY by William Gibson: A sequel to The Peripheral for the Trump years, about seductive bitterness of imagined alternate timelines, filled with cyberpunk cool and action.

https://www.latimes.com/entertainment-arts/books/story/2020-01-24/agency-william-gibson

II. RIOT BABY by Tochi Onyebuchi: An incandescent Afrofuturist novella that connects the Rodney King uprising with contemporary struggle, pitting supernatural powers against dire politics.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/04/23/riot-baby/#Tochi-Onyebuchi

III. OR WHAT YOU WILL by Jo Walton: A metafiction about the desperate attempt of a character to pull his writer into a fictional world to save the both from human mortality.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/07/07/little-bro-with-snowden/#metafiction

IV. A BEAUTIFULLY FOOLISH ENDEAVOR by Hank Green: Sequel to An Absolutely Remarkable Thing - a madcap and sometimes brutal tale of social media influencers, alien invaders, disinformation, and runaway capitalism.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/07/08/absolutely-remarkable-thing/#carls

V. FAILED STATE by Christopher Brown: A legal eco-thriller that imagines the end of capitalism without imagining the end of the world - cyberpunk meets ecotopianism, with anarchist jurisdictions, show-trials, and rewilding.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/08/12/failed-state/#chris-brown

VI. AFTERLAND by Lauren Beukes: Eerily well-timed road-trip novel set after a prostate-cancer plague wipes out nearly every man on Earth, except for the protagonist's teenaged son, who is now being hunted by the (all-female) US government.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/07/28/afterland/#XY

VII. BALLISTIC KISS by Richard Kadrey: Sandman Slim confronts the worst demons of all - his own trauma and self-doubt.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/08/25/anxietypunk/#bk

VIII. SQUEEZE ME by Carl Hiaasen: Hiaasen was writing comedic whodunnits about improbable Florida Man types decades before the memes, and his Mar-a-Lago gator plague novel is a hectic and hilarious tale for our times.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/10/05/florida-man/#disappearing-act

VIII. The Ministry for the Future by Kim Stanley Robinson: KSR says it's his last novel and I say it's the book he's been training to write all his life. If you like your climate fiction wrenching but still uplifting enough to move you to tears...

https://pluralistic.net/2020/12/03/ministry-for-the-future/#ksr

IX. SET MY HEART TO FIVE by Simon Stephenson: An absurdist robot-romp in the mold of Kurt Vonnegut about a robot who catches the disease of emotions and tries to treat it by moving to Hollywood to write screenplays about robots.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/09/01/cant-pay-wont-pay/#robot-rights

Part 2: NONFICTION FOR ADULTS

I. A PUBLIC SERVICE by Tim Schwartz: An incredibly practical, detailed guide for would-be whistleblowers (and journalists who work with them) to staying safe while spilling the beans.

https://memex.craphound.com/2020/01/08/a-public-service-a-comprehensive-comprehensible-guide-to-leaking-documents-to-journalists-and-public-service-groups-without-getting-caught/

II. THE MONSTERS KNOW WHAT THEY'RE DOING by Keith Ammann: A sourcebook for RPG game-masters explaining how different kinds of monsters can use a variety of combat tactics that add depth, texture (and challenge) to your games.

https://memex.craphound.com/2020/01/10/the-monsters-know-what-theyre-doing-an-rpg-sourcebook-for-dms-who-want-to-imbue-monsters-with-deep-smart-tactics/

III. SNOWDEN'S BOX by Jessica Bruder and Dale Maharidge: The incredible, true tale of how trust among friends allowed Snowden's leaks to safely transit from his home in Hawai'i to the hands of Laura Poitras and the journalists who reported the story.

https://memex.craphound.com/2020/03/31/snowdens-box-the-incredible-illuminating-story-of-the-journey-of-snowdens-hard-drive/

III. ABOLISH SILICON VALLEY by Wendy Liu: A personal journey from a fully bought-in believer in Silicon Valley's meritocracy to a ferocious critic who demands tech to serve humanity, not a human race in service to the tech industry.

https://memex.craphound.com/2020/04/14/abolish-silicon-valley-memoir-of-a-driven-startup-founder-who-became-an-anti-capitalist-activist/

IV. THE CASE FOR A JOB GUARANTEE by Pavlina Tcherneva: A fierce little book setting out an economic program to rescue the nation and the planet from a system that insists we can't even hope for a better world.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/06/22/jobs-guarantee/#job-guarantee

VII. SUBPRIME ATTENTION CRISIS by Tim Hwang: What's worse than having our lies destroyed by surveillance to manipulate us with ads? Having our lives destroyed by surveillance in order to fuel a fraudulent market in ad-based manipulation.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/10/05/florida-man/#wannamakers-ghost

VIII. MONOPOLIES SUCK by Sally Hubbard: There are plenty of *great* books about monopolies and the resurgence in antitrust, but Hubbard's is the most practical, providing the reader with excellent advice for actually *doing something* about monopolism.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/10/27/peads-r-us/#sally-hubbard

IX. BREAK 'EM UP by Zephyr Teachout: The most lucid, readable, infuriating, energizing book on the rise of monopolies. Teachout never loses sight of the systemic nature of the problem, even as she uses individual stories to tell the tale.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/07/29/break-em-up/#break-em-up

X. BOUNDLESS REALM by Fox Nolte: There has never been a better book about the Haunted Mansion (indeed, this is one of the best books ever written about environmental design in general). Nolte goes *way* beyond trite wisdom about "storytelling."

https://pluralistic.net/2020/11/09/boundless-realm/#fuxxfur

PART 3: GRAPHIC NOVELS

I. YEAR OF THE RABBIT by Tean Viasna: A graphic memoir of Viasna's harrowing boyhood during the rise of the Khmer Rouge in Cambodia. It's a tale we've rarely seen through the eyes of a child, and brilliantly realized.

https://memex.craphound.com/2020/01/22/year-of-the-rabbit-a-graphic-novel-memoir-of-one-familys-life-under-the-khmer-rouge/

II. FEMALE FURIES by @misscecil: Castellucci uses an obscure and anachronistic all-woman cast of DC Universe b-characters to tell an incredible, smart, pitiless story about #MeToo, comics, solidarity and betrayal.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/06/29/female-furies/#apokolips-now

III. LONELINESS OF THE LONG-DISTANCE CARTOONIST by Adrian Tomine: A memoir of intensely felt impostor syndrome, a forceful reminder that comparison is the thief of joy - and that the traits that keep an artist going at first go toxic over time.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/07/21/the-thief-of-joy/#tomine

IV. CONSTITUTION ILLUSTRATED by R Sikoryak: The Trump years were an unhappy crash-course in Constitutional law, but Sikoryak's genius adaptation of the Constitution in the style of dozens of cartoonists is a pure delight.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/07/27/ip/#r-sikoryak

PART 4: KIDS AND YA

I. SEND PICS by Lauren McLaughlin: A YA novel that's a thrilling revenge-play about "revenge porn," a cyber-heist novel that's also a sneaky and forceful book about teen girls' sexuality.

https://memex.craphound.com/2020/04/21/send-pics-ripping-brutal-amazing-novel-about-teens-sextortion-revenge-and-justice/

II. IMPOSSIBLE MUSIC by Sean Williams: A YA novel about a music-obsessed kid who loses his hearing is the frame for a book about ability, adaptation, music theory, family, Deafness and what dreams are really for.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/06/30/deafhood/#impossible-music

III. HARD WIRED by Len Vlahos: A 15 year old discovers the truth behind bizarre dysfunction of the world around him: he's an AI in a sim, and the guy he thinks of as his long-dead father is actually the research scientists who created him.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/08/31/ai-rights-now/#len-vlahos

IV. ADVENTURES OF A DWERGISH GIRL, by Daniel Pinkwater: Like every Pinkwater novel, it defies description, it is brilliant, and it is his best to date. Ghosts, Revolutionary War fleshbots, papaya juice, and supernatural beings from the Catskills!

https://pluralistic.net/2020/09/25/dwergish-girl/#you-are-a-pickle

V. WITCH by Finbar Hawkins: A beautiful debut novel about a pair of 17th century sisters who avenge themselves against the witchfinders that murdered their mother. A superbly told historical.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/10/01/the-years-of-repair/#witch

FINALLY: I published *four* books in 2020!

I. POESY THE MONSTER SLAYER: My debut picture book, about a little girl who turns her toys into weapons and torments her parents by hunting monsters all night, with wonderful art by Matt Rockefeller:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781626723627

II. LITTLE BROTHER/HOMELAND: My multibestselling YA novels were reissued last summer in a gorgeous package with a (fantastic) new introduction by Snowden.

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250774583

III. ATTACK SURFACE: A standalone, adult sequel to Little Brother and Homeland. The New York Times called it "vocal and unflinching" and "ultimately optimistic"; the Washington Post called it a "riveting techno-thriller."

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250757531

IV. HOW TO DESTROY SURVEILLANCE CAPITALISM: A long pamphlet/short book that makes the case that Big Tech manipulates us and spies on us because they have monopolies - not because they've developed devastating, data-driven mind-control.

https://onezero.medium.com/how-to-destroy-surveillance-capitalism-8135e6744d59

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reachfolk · 3 years

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1, 6, 13, and 16 for Alexi and Ursula and shoot anyone else you wanna answer for

💛 from @korvanjund

thank you sm for the ask darlin!! i decided to also include my little haglet ophelia since i've been adding more to her storyline today, and it's about time i start talking more about my other character lol.

who are they closest to? how did they meet and what do they like to do together?

i already answered this for alexi here!

ursula: she's obviously very close with her wife, bothela. like i said in her chara sheet, the two met when markarth was under reach control and they worked together as healers. they spend most of their day running the hag's cure together and training their apprentice. when they aren't doing that, they mostly focus on their own little projects and research; bothela seems to somehow never tire of alchemy even long after the shop closes, and ursula likes to tinker around with dwemer texts and tech to see what she can find out. then they get back together and discuss whatever interesting things they learned. she's also super close to her niece and nephew! isobel doesn't love having the kids spend time with her, but the few times they are together, they love hearing all her stories from when she was in the uprising and just stories of the reach in general.

ophelia: she'd literally lay down her life for every single person in her coven dklfjskdj, she's very dedicated to them!! but of course, she's closest to her mother, helle. helle was in the forsworn uprising, and she had ophelia not long after markarth was secured. after it all fell apart, she raised filly to continue fighting for the reach, but the rebellion was never the same after madanach was imprisoned. eventually, the two (along with some of ophelia's closest friends from the forsworn) disbanded and formed an independent coven. ophelia supported her mother through the ritual to become a hagraven matriarch, and she's gladly willing to take on the same burden should anything happen to helle. helle taught ophelia a LOT about everything she knows about magic, and she's working on honing her skills as a seer to better guide the coven. although helle is the matriarch, her daughter is her right hand man of sorts and is just as responsible for everything they do. she runs around the coven doing just about anything that needs doing to help the members, whether it's hunting with hypatia, babysitting honey while beatrice is busy, or assisting esmeralda in her expeditions to old ruins.

on an average day, what can they be found doing after dinner?

alexandria: the short answer is: way too much !! the long answer: girlie has the worst case of insomnia ever and she compensates for that by using Way Too Many stamina potions, so it's usually her companions that even have to remind her to stop for dinner at all. even after dinner, she knows she wouldn't be able to sleep unless she majorly tires herself out, so she likes to run around doing more and more stuff. if her companions are too worn out from the day to do that, she likes to restock their potion supply or practice her spells. if after that she still can't quite fall asleep, she'll usually go on a late night hunting trip. there have been a few times when the local blacksmith tries to open shop and just finds her tanning leather at their station lol

ursula: she's quite the scholar, especially when it comes to the history of the reach! this goes beyond just the reachfolk; she also studies the history of the dwarves in the reach, the dragon cult, etc. she's published a few books covering the subjects, and is considered a leading expert on the matter. if she's not having a chill evening with her wife, she likes to continue working on those books, whether she's writing for them or just doing some research. she makes occasional visits to isobel's family, as the kids absolutely adore her, but those are few and far between.

ophelia: she's a little like alexi in that she does way more than anyone has any business doing kdsjfhd. she doesn't have the same ailment of course, but she wants to take off the pressures of managing the coven from her mother's shoulds, at least as best as she can. by the time they finish dinner, she's already thinking about where to go hunting for the next day's meal. she prays at the shrines to the old gods, who often send her visions to guide her. she checks in on each of the members and their individual duties and their work. she'll sometimes read honey a story before bed or sing her to sleep when her mother is away. she takes care of helle when she's in pain (i hc that the hagraven transformation can be pretty painful and draining, not unlike the briarheart transformation). when she does have a moment to relax, she likes to spend it by the river, soaking her feet and watching the stars.

what special abilities or talents do they possess? did they develop through training or were they born with them?

alexandria: she's always had a knack for alchemy, like i said in the other post! it was why her tutor encouraged her to apprentice at the hag's cure, where she built on that natural talent with a lot of hard work. despite her young age (around 22-27 depending on her point in the story), she's practically a master alchemist already. she'll insist she's not a master—"well i don't think anyone could ever know everything there is to know about alchemy. it's an evolving discipline and—" she's the worst lol. but the point is, she's one of the best ones you'll find around!! she's not an expert in things like sword fighting or marksmanship, but she makes up for it with her potions and poisons, making her a formidable foe.

ursula: she's pretty well rounded i think, having been a fighter and a healer for much of her life. she's also fairly good at alchemy herself. a lot of those things weren't really inborn, but she had a lot of great guidance from the other people that were part of the uprising. since it was in the works for many years, and ursula joined in during the early stages of its planning, she had a lot of time to hone her skills. by the time of the main story with lex, she's pretty much a master at restoration magic in particular, as that's the one she's used most in the 30 years since the city was reconquered by the nords. when the temple of dibella is closed, she's looked to as the town's primary healer.

ophelia: like i said before, she's a seer. it was always an inborn gift she's had, but her training with her mother as well as her devout worship of the old gods give her visions a significant boost. she's most devout to vaermina, who shows her visions of omens and looming threats to both her and her people in her dreams. she's actually the one that told alexandria to go to helgen, because she got a vision of what was going to happen and knew alexi was central to it. her visions can sometimes come in the form of metaphors rather than exact tellings of what'll happen, so she thought that alexi being personified as a dragon in these visions was some odd metaphor, as was helgen being burnt to the ground. needless to say, she later realized those visions were more literal than initially thought lol

how do they like their baths/showers? hot/cold, long/short?

alexandria: like absolutely scorching lol. when she bathes, she often uses a flames spell to get the water damn near boiling before she hops in. when it's revealed that she's the dragonborn, she makes a lot of jokes that it's because of her dragon blood, but tbh she's just Like That.

ursula: warm, but not as much as lex. she's still spry and healthy, but she is Old (tm), so she finds a warm bath nice and soothing, yk? especially since most of her work is on her feet.

ophelia: cold or lukewarm at best. she loves bathing in the karth river, and she appreciates it regardless of the weather. the karth is practically sacred to the reachfolk, and she finds the embrace of the cold water bracing and energizing! lord knows she needs that considering how much is on her plate.

#tes #tesblr #skyrim oc #oc: alexandria silver blood #oc: ursula dain #oc: ophelia #cozy answers

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marnz · 3 years

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pausing my “”productive”” evening to be briefly insane with rage at this extremely stupid, imprecise, and ignorant essay about garth greenwell and ocean vuong, holy shit, i guess punching down is quite easy when you don’t even feel the need to make a point.

i haven’t finished On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous so I cannot speak to that aspect of the essay other than to say 1) the prose is amazing 2) writing to reach someone is the main function of a writer, you need to approach an emotional work in an emotionally open and receptive manner, 3) the critiques of the novel come across as jealous and a purposefully mean spirited reading. however,

if you READ What Belongs to You, if you READ Cleanness, you understand WHY these books are so sincere and WHY there is so much “”gay suffering”” and it is because the narrator fucking hates himself. This is not a secret. Greenwell’s primary aesthetic project in these books is tackling the intersections of shame and desire. What causes intense shame? The fact that the narrator’s father treated him horribly for his entire life because the narrator is sexually attracted to men--and so Greenwell explores gay sex and intimacy. I don’t think this could have been made more apparent? In the middle section of What Belongs to You the narrator reflects on his relationship with his dying father, and begins by discussing the innocent and familial intimacy between the two of them that vanished immediately when the father realized the narrator was gay, as a child.

The narrator is “”sincere”” and confessional about everything as a way to convey the intersections of shame and desire using prose that mirrors the looping, sometimes ponderous thought process of the self loathing. He is capable of reflecting on his terrible qualities and unsafe sexual choices, his obsession with self endangerment through sex and his self blame/culpability, because he thinks there is something not only inherently wrong with him, but inherently unlovable. This is something he obsesses about and it is why partially why the book reads as confessional (the other reason is it is the contemporary modern style. Almost every celebrated litfic novelist is doing it nowadays.) Sex is linked danger, shame, and rejection over and over again for the narrator and he struggles to move on from it because it’s all he thinks he deserves! The craft decision to use sex as a way to explore not just shame/desire but the narrator’s character is incredible! More people should do this! In one of the most harrowing chapters of Cleanness, “Gospodar,” the narrator goes to a professional dom and confesses to wanting to become “nothing.” He explicitly engages in humiliation play. Enough said!

The whole “gay suffering gay man sad” thing is NOT done as suffering for shock value or because it’s a sincere belief in what gay people deserve. This was a common critique of What Belongs to You and I agree it’s thankless to read if you went into it expecting gay Pretty Woman or a happy ending, l m a o, especially since one of the other craft projects of the novel is using Mitko to symbolize Bulgaria post iron curtain/””communism.”” Greenwell then uses Cleanness address the gay suffering critiques by exploring the narrator’s relationship with R....and these chapters are absolutely beautiful and moving and healing for the narrator, he finally gets to say shit like:

“Sex had never been joyful for me before, or almost never, it had always been fraught with shame and anxiety and fear, all of which vanished at the sight of his smile, simply vanished, it poured a cleanness over everything we did” and

“I caught my breath at [something R did for him], I felt a weird pressure and heat climb my throat. I felt like my heart would burst, those were the words for it, the hackneyed phrase, and I was grateful for them, they were a container for what I felt, proof of its commonness. I was grateful for that, too, the commonness of my feeling; I felt some stubborn strangeness in me ease, I felt like part of the human race.”

I don’t think it’s ever confirmed that the narrator in What Belongs to You is the same narrator as Cleanness but I think they must be because of the social implications of cleanness as related to gay sex and to aspects of shame, especially because in part 3 of WBTY the narrator learns he has syphilis, which is a very publicly disfiguring disease if not treated. It’s sexual leprosy, it is disfiguring shame. We read all of Cleanness understanding certain actions he takes as being because of what happened to Mitko, like insisting on condoms. I think the choice of it being syphilis as opposed to AIDs is purposeful but that is another post i will not be making.

The relationship with R is doomed to fail partially because R also experiences immense shame connected to being gay for a different reason and because the narrator is predisposed to self sabotage and other various reasons. It does end, the narrator goes back to his dangerous sexual practices, and Greenwell is careful to show that part of the reason the narrator does this is because he finds social as well as sexual gratification from it. With R the narrator did not do any form of kink except body worship, but body worship is not what the narrator craves because he craves humiliation play! I think the thing that is most interesting about Cleanness in particular is the way it explores different avenues of intimacy, different modes, you can be with someone for a very long time and feel felt and loved and understood and then be with someone else and feel felt and loved and understood in different, equally important ways. Every single relationship in your life is a trade off of these and your own prioritization of your own needs. Greenwell shows that the narrator’s sexual practices and his love for kink is an important need just as it is a self destructive one because of the linking of shame and desire. This is all made explicit in “The Little Saint” (which we are given to understand is post-R) narrator acts as a dom for once and explores being on the other side of the coin. He gets into it and later finds it very upsetting because for him all shame and humiliation is linked to being gay, which circles back to his father, and the sub ends up explaining to the narrator that you don’t have to dominate someone by humiliating them like that. Like what’s not clicking here!!!!!!!

My other main frustrations with this essay are:

the linking of sincerity = gay trauma when good art is often about sincerity and sincerity of emotion, either exploring it or eliciting it, even satire, even fucking...marvel movies, lowest common denominator writing wise, try to make their fans feel something

the fact HE CLEARLY DIDN’T READ THE BOOKS. i know Cleanness is set up as a collection of short stories so you have to take it apart line by line but WBTY is not like that. The shame = bad dad aspect could not have been more clear if it was underlined.

The fact that the essay says Ocean Vuong “is an artist of the memorably obtuse one-liner” as a derogatory thing which is SO rude and comes across as incredibly petty and jealous. Ocean Vuong is a fucking genius. Go after Rupi Kaur if you want to critique a poet who is actually over celebrated, damn

the idea of sincerity = cringe and the inability of many modern critics to moderate their response to a piece of work based on the project or any of its other qualities it is doing instead of like, how it made them feel expressed as sarcastically as possible. I am not a critic but I do not think this is difficult to do. What Belongs to You made me incredibly uncomfortable and sad for much of the book but I was still able to appreciate it? Even when I was like “ahhhhh i hate this” I could understand and appreciate aspects of craft/characterization/emotion/prose/whatever. This is basic shit.

the fact this essay doesn’t even explore the craft genius of Cleanness? it is really subversive to use sex like that in litfic, let alone gay sex...like I understand not liking something just based on your personal tastes but I’m like ?????????? so shocked that the whole craft thing and aesthetic project just doesn’t come up???????? At all?????? ALSO YOU WOULD THINK in an essay that tries to cash in on the outrage of ‘all gay art is suffering’ would explore why the wealthy, straight, white publishing industry and literary elite does invest in gay suffering and the homophobia/history behind it but no! this essay doesn’t even do that!

the fact this got published at all

anyway this essay is stupid and i am stupid for typing up basically an essay about it but like! where else can i do this! if you read all the way to the end pls read Garth Greenwell and Ocean Vuong thanks bye

#i really do not get mad on the internet anymore as a rule but this.....#ugh and what drives me even crazier is i know this stupid fucking essay was published for hate clicks AND IT IS WORKING #garth greenwell #cleanness #homophobia tw #if someone comes to me and says these novels are like toxic and not morally pure uwu i am going to unhinge my jaw and swallow them whole #long post

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popculturebuffet · 3 years

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Simpsons Review: Simpsons Comics #102 “Uncle Burn$” or Homercore Nudity!

Whelp out of all the commissions Kev has thrown me this one’s kind of a curveball. I mean it makes sense why cover it: It’s a pastiche of Donald Duck Comics done in the pages of the Simpsons long running comics. I cover duck stuff on here, and not only do I love the Simpsons but I tend to reference it for jokes a LOT. I just genuinely never thought of reviewing it till now, likely because earlier on in my new career of reviewing animated shows, I wasn’t really convinced I could do pure comedies. With my regular reviews of Darkwing Duck and as it comes out coverage of the Loud House (I still need to get around to Band Together), that’s no longer a real issue and I should consider doing the show in the future, especially since I have an unabashed love for the first 10 seasons and a few episodes beyond that.

As you can tell, I love the Simpsons. While I do genuinely wish it would end and have no real intrest in the current seasons, though if you’d like me to take a look i’d be willing to. The show in it’s prime was funny, witty and each episode was crammed with jokes. And refreshingly for an adult cartoon show of it’s time, the show genuinely wasn’t afraid to mix things up: Milhouse’s parents divorced and stayed that way for so long that them apparently getting back together decades later is itself a huge status quo shake up. Lisa went Vegetarian which stuck thanks to sir paul mcartney, and then went Buddhist, both of which have never wavered since and both fit her well. Skinner and Krabbable started dating. Barney went sober for a few seasons. Apu got married. These are minor changes but the show does have things happen occasionally and doesn’t just snap everything back and it adds genuine tension to plots knowing they might stay the status quo They usually don’t but the occasional change gives things stakes. I could go on for days, but I couldn’t go on for 8 weeks, point is the Simpsons are awesome, and deserve the praise they get early on I just wish they’d stop as by this point people really have stopped carring and it’s time to pass the torch and Let Bob’s burgers be the wholesome family comedy that runs forever.. and even then that one should stop at 10 seasons. Or if not at least let the kids age dammit. But that aside, while many of you simpsons fans looking at this probably have at least seen the comics, or a collection of them over the decades, many of you like me are wondering what the hell Bongo Comics is and how they managed to last so long. Bongo was founded by Simpsons Creator Matt Groening in 1993. Matt Groening had noticed that at the time there just weren’t any funny books on the shelves, funny books being comedy based comics primarily targeted for kids, with Archie and Disney being really the only ones left at the time. So he founded Bongo to rectify that, and given Fox naturally liked the sound of more merchandising dollars, the publisher was primarily used to produce simpsons comics, though looking at wikipedia there were one or two that weren’t including, of all things, a Coldplay comic tying into their album. Why did Coldplay publish a comic book at a primarily simpsons comic book company?

Though most series seem to be either short lived or one shots, there were a few exceptions: Naturally the company put out an annual Treehouse of Horror issue, there was a Bart Simpson ongoing focusing on him and the other kids of Springfield, I had a trade for that one once, and once Futurama premiered it too got a comic book that held through both cancelations. But standing above them all was Simpsons Comics, a 245 issue long runner that ran all the way up to the company’s closing, likely due to a combination of a lack of profits and the then upcoming Disney-Fox merger depriving them of the very heart and soul of the company.

Naturally being a Simpsons fan I have a connection to these comics having gotten the trades out of the library multiple times as well as the collection of Bartman’s solo series, which was my favorite and I might cover some day. In addition to the Free Comic Book Day issues i also picked up scattered issues over my life since, much like Archie, Simpsons comics were a mainstay of bookstores and super markets and the decline of both comic markets is likely why the Simpsons comics started to peter out in the first place. The quality and memorability of the stories varied but they were a fun thing to have around and it’s sad to see them go, as well as see Disney not even make a remote attempt to bring them back or at the very least republish the vast library they now have access to. Also finally if your wondering yes, there indeed was a Simpsons/Futurama crossover. And no I have not read it. So with that history, most of which I just learned some of which I already knew, in mind, it is very fitting the comic’s did a tribute to the Uncle Scrooge comics. Though it does feel very weird that I have yet to cover any Donald Duck or Scrooge comics.. yet i’ve already covered one of the Ducktales tie in comics and a Simpsons homage to it. I’m going to have to correct that but until then, join me under the cut as I dive into adventure with the Simpsons.

This issue was written by Ian Boothby and drawn by John Delaney, I feel mentiong the writers and artists should be important in comic reviews and I kick myself for not having done that or gone into them as much before. Boothby was apparently the Ian Flynn of these comics, writing more simpsons comics than any other writer according to wikipedia and winning an Eisner for his work on the comic if sadly not this issue. He was nominated for an outstanding Canadian Writer award for it though so that’s good. Point is the guy is a decorated vetran of this series and it shows in how good this issue is and I felt he deserved some recognition as most Comic Book Readers, myself included up till now, likely weren’t aware he even existed nor took over the comic in the 2000′s.

We open with Burns getting attacked by a mummy! Gotta say wasn’t expecting this as where we started out but the simpsons have started with wonkier premises to end up somewhere. I mean there was the time a bag boy strike ended up with them in Africa. Also i’d say Burns should call the police, being the kind of privileged white guy they actually care about protecting and all, but frankly the Springfield Cops don’t have the best track records with Mummies:

But no it’s just Smithers, who dove in heroically to save the company 15 dollars after Homer took a bet to see how many fire crackers he could jam in his computer’s disk drive. Lenny said 20 but he proved him wrong. And yes those are all actual jokes from the comic, this issue is very funny and feels very much like a Golden Age Simpsons episode. They also all gather to sign Smither’s cast.. which naturally is a legally binding contract. Burns takes his loyal minion to get some quality medical care only to find an arcade because he traded the Medical Bay in for one during an outbreak of Pac Man Fever... again I really can’t top that and there may be a good reason why I haven’t covered the Simpsons till now. But yeah as Buns gives Smithers a roll of Pennies, he wonders who to have replace Smither’s on their annual summer treasure hunt.. which would come out of nowhere but we genuinely don’t know what they do most summers. I assumed Burns just road Smithers like a horse to play cricket while Smithers enjoyed it way too much. But a stray comment from Homer getting a Krusty Doll from a crane machine about being king of the treasure hunters leads to this.

I mean it’s an easy joke but damn if it didn’t get a laugh out of me. So later at the old Simpsons place, because this comic is fantastic, Marge and Homer talk things over, but Homer insists Burns said he’d split the treasure, and Lisa wishes she could come along. And Marge says he should, especially for his own saftey.. and when Bart complains, says all the kids should go, she already packed their bags, she’s heading to Rancho Relaxo byyyyeeeeeee. Once again, this comic is amazing, and I would say this is out of character for Marge, but frankly that’s the whole point. Plus it really isn’t when she has to deal with 4 children on a regular basis, and her sisters, and a town gone mad.. yeah can’t blame her here.

The next day at Burns Office, Homer is wearing his navy outfit.. or rather Donald’s Navy outfit. But given I did a quick google and found him having at least 4 different outfits during his time in the Naval Reserves, it’s not a stretch to assume the Simpsons Version of the Navy gave these out too. Seriously Ian Boothby has put more thought into continuity than most writers on the show proper. Also Simpsons Tide, season 9 episode, still very memorable and hilarious and not due to childhood nostalgia. Just looking up this bit had me laughing hard.

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I now want to watch that episode sometime soon so thanks Kev. Anyway Homer seems to have misplaced his plants. Now I could spare you the image since I don’t do things panel by panel anymore and only use panels from a comic when relevant. Buttttt

This traumatizing of my audience brings me to a point about this issue and why it works. While there are tons of nods to the Donald Duck comics and what their homaging is very clear, the issue doesn’t REQUIRE you know them to enjoy it. Knowing them I obviously enjoy it more, but most of the jokes aren’t reliant on you knowing anything about the barks comics and even someone with a passing knowledge of the Original Ducktales can still get the reference if not why Donald is here. It helps this is less of a parody, with the exception of some jokes, and more of an homage, using stylistic elements of those comics while telling i’ts own story as a loving tribute to it’s predecessors. Speaking of one of those jokes poking fun at the source material, Burns is delighted Homer brought child labor, which kept me laughing for a good minute, and when the kids introduce themselves we get this bit.

Not only am I 100% sure every version of Donald or Della did this to make sure they could tell them apart, very much including the reboot with Donald, but it’s a genuine hilarious bit. Donald’s response as they head off is “there’s somehting hooey Dewey and screwy about this. “ Also I will criticize the fact Bart isn’t the one wearing a blue outfit. For those wondering why, after all Maggie wears blue shouldn’t she get it, who haven’t seen this a LOT of merchandise early on had Bart in a blue shirt, due to early Merch being rushed out pre-show and since he wore one in some earlier concept art, he got to wear blue. He also wore it late into the 90′s.

Sidebar: I just found this and while it isn’t a bad joke given his character it is questionable to have a fourth grade boy tell you to buy him. Just saying. But the reason I bring it up is partly because the show itself referenced it at one point.

As well as it’s sister show Futurama

And you remeber that Bart Simpson solo I mentioned? That one frequently, both in and out of story, had Blue Shirt bart show up for some variety.

Also why yes each issue does have it’s own fun “Superman’s Pal Jimmy Oleson” Esque subtitle. And I love it so. Point is Blue Bart is part of the series legacy and this very comic company, so it’s VERY weird to not have that here. That being said there were a few Green Shirt barts apparently as a printing error, so he could just as easily be 80 steps ahead of me. I just don’t know.

Back at the plot Burns and the Simpsons show up at Frink’s lab, Frink rather obviously filling in for Gyro, with his own version of little bulb named F.L.O. who gladly shakes Lisa’s hand.. and releases a Pterodactyl but hey you can’t win em all. It’s a nice nod, though one only fans of the source matieral will really get, but the pterodactyl bit right after helps distract from it. Frink slotts into the roll well, as Frink has no reall affiliation with anyone and is basically, much like Gyro, there for various characters to go too when the story or joke needs him. Frink has two gadgets for them: Some Scuba suits that can go to any depth and a grappling claw that accidently gets him gripped to the pterodactyl. Also homer accidently switches suits with maggie, so we get an adorable shot of her serenely sleeping in a diving helmet while her daddy chokes to death.

So the next day it’s out to the open seas where The Simpsons are doing all the work while Burns lounges.. which yeah this is a typical uncle scrooge adventure all right. While the man unlike Burns does work hard and do things for himself, he spent most voyages talking about the destination while putting all the hard work on Donald, in case you thought there was at least one universe where Donald isn’t miserable most of the time. Lisa wonders what he’s doing and we get this lovely bit.

I just.. can’t stop finding that hilarious or a nice way to get the Uncle Scrooge bit in there while still fitting the Simpsons, and it at least explains what happened to Herb, whose been mentioned all of once in the 30 seasons since he last showed up. I checked. And yes for those unaware, which is fair, or who just now remembered Homer does indeed have a brother, one his dad had out of an affair who showed up twice, once with Homer unintentionally, and largely due to Herb’s own foolishness, ruining his life, the other time with Maggie helping him get back on top and him and Homer reconciling. He’s also voiced by comedic legend and your friend and mine, Danny Devito, whose still making us all laugh to this day and is a wonderful person from all accounts. Rock on Danny, here’s the only way I can think to honor you.

But yeah it’s a good gag. Burns claims to be watching for a Giant Squid.. and turns out to be right. So it’s up to the simpsons to fight the giant squid, a sentence I genuinely didn’t expect.. I thought like the Griffins they’d just ignore it.

I miss that show.. oh i’m aware Family Guy is still running but much like the Simpsons the show it USED to be is long gone. Anyways Bart tells a worried homer octopus suck out the innards and drink it first quipping “It’s not like you haven’t been drunk in the morning before homer. Homer chokes bart only for the squid to choke him which is easily the second best “Homer getting choked after Choking bart” gag i’ve seen.. the best being this one I found on youtube.

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Though personally my faviorite part of that whole bit is Bart’s proud “THAT’S BECAUSE I SOAKED HIM IN SLIME!” Anyways Lisa figures out a way to beat the squid, painting the likeness of each of them on it’s tentacles and letting the thing devour itself. Lisa lampshades it making no sense PHysics wise but with that she reluctantly accepts calling Mr. Burns, Uncle Burns and we’re off to our next location. Next up is Mt. Donrosa, a very clear nod to Uncle Scrooge maestro Keno “Don” Rosa, an avid fan of Barks work who expanded on it and turned it into a solid continuity, most famously, and what got me into the ducks in the first place, with the epic “Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck” which I proudly own and.. well I did say watch this space didn’t I? Enough hinting at the future as the Simpsons scale the mountain with Homer carrying burns up on a rickshaw. Burns however looses his lucky #1 penny, SUBTLE, and cuts Bart down to get it. We then get the best line of the issue:

Bart thankfully survives and we find out the Penny, much like Scrooge’s Dime is how Burns started his fortune.. for this issue and nowhere else but that’s standard for the Simpsons. Specifically loading it into a gun and threatning to kill Jasper’s grandfather with it during the gold rush, a nice twist. At the top of the mountain they find the fabled key of Strobl, which comes from the Taliaferro tribe.. more refrenes this time though I didn’t know them and had to google. Tony Strobl was an artist on the Duck Comics at one ponit and Al Taliforino id forgotten about. He did the Donald Duck comic strip which I had heard of and weirdly hasn’t been collected yet despite Fantagraphics covering mickey, as well as reprinting barks and rosa’s respective works.

The key is suspended in the air by what Lisa suspects to be magnetics, and while Burns plan is naturally “Have Bart swim in it and see if he surivives”, Bart, still pissed from the penny and not wanting to die today, grabs the Penny and uses his slingshot to fire it at the Key. The bad luck from the penny casues an erruption, but Bart once again saves the day and has them surf down, with naturally tons more great jokes. The family enjoys some steamed Seafood, except Lisa whose eating Seaweed, while Homer enjoys a sting ray “It tastes as good as it stings, Ow, Ow.” ON to Goddfrodson Trench, an odd choice given Floyd Goddfrodson was barks equivalent for the Mickey Mouse Comics and not really a duck writer, but he still deserves the honor regardless. Under the Sea, no accusations just friendly crustaceans here.. our heroes are close to the treasure but loose the map to the Jailbird Boys, aka Snake and his cousins, who found out due to Lisa’s blog. She didn’t want to loose any more readers to Sheri and Teri’s Olson Twin’s Fan Page.. which.. it’s 2004.. weren’t they dead by this point? Nope still alive? Still are today in fact? Alrighty then. Also this bit, and some of the other references are a bit heavy handed, I will admit that, but the jokes are high quality enough otherwise that it just comes off as a bit of an adorable wink more than laziness.

Snake and co cut their air with Starfish used as throwing stars.

The gang tie their air suplies to avoid dying, and Maggie, in a clever bit, talks with the starfish, since they communicate via sucking, to attack the Jailbird Boys. Again..

I genuinely don’t know, but our heroes find the fabled vault of Barks Billion.. named after Bark Barks, that polar bear from the sonic games.. no of course it’s named after Disney Duck God Carl Barks, who created the Duck’s share of Donald and Scrooge’s supporting cast: Uncle Scrooge himself, Daisy Duck, a fact I just learned but given he created her first short “Mr Duck Steps Out, shouldn’t of surprised me, The Beagle Boys, Magica DeSpell, Goldie O Gilt, Flintheart Glomgold, Gyro Gearloose, Gladstone Gander, The Junior Woodchucks as a whole, Neighbor Jones, John D. Rockerduck, The Number One Dime, Gus Goose, April, May, June and Whitewater Duck. Just the sheer impact he’s had on the comics on all continents cannot be overstated. He is also the one who refined Huey Dewey and Louie from hellraising little shits to the good little boys they are today.. well okay they were, thankfully the reboot has created much better versions. Point is what a man, what a man what a mighty good man, he is truly missed. We get two great homer gags in the same page, one where somehow he’s put the giant key on a key ring and still can’t find it.. with Bart helpfully taking it from him, and then we get this, which I missed on my first read through.

Naturally Burns betrays them, using a Gold Magnet, kay, to suck up all the gold and naturally planning to leave the Simpsons for dead to no one’s surprise. But thanks to Bart teaching Maggie how to use the spittoons, Homer gets one stuck on his head.. and starts getting sucked up with the Simpsons using them to escape. Naturally Lisa’s first instinct is obvious.

But Burns weasels his way out by promising them free gold after their free lunch. Naturally the next day this turns out ot be a trick as their lunch came from frinks and thus, for now, their weightless.. but Karma gets Burns when he tries swimming in his new gold vault... only for the natural result of what happens when am an who never exercises and who doctors once described as having so many diseases packed into his body at once they tripped each other off and that a strong wind could kill him, trying to do with a similarly aged but still physically fit and well trained at swimming in money man does on a daily basis.

We then close on a quick gag of weightless homer getting caught on fire and we’re out.

Final Thoughts: This was a really excellent comic. It captured the tone of the Simpsons at their best and while stiff in a place here or there, it’s mostly just really funny, entertaining and a nice and warm tribute to Donald and Scrooge’s long comics history, not really mocking it but instead just homaging it, while still throughly feeling like the Simpsons. It honestly feels like the Treehouse of Horor Segement on the shining, a bit that parodies something, but for the most part the jokes still feel firmly rooted in the simpsons and their cast. This was a treat to review and i’m glad Kev comissoned it and I may take a look at more Simpsons in the future. If you guys like this review, you can follow me on patreon at patreon.com/popculturebuffet, or if there’s a specific simpsons or ducktales episode or a specific comic you want me to review, you can comission your own review for just five bucks. Just send me a direct message on here through Tumblr, or take a look at my ask box or submit. However you want to do it. I take payments through paypal and until next time: Happy Days are Here Again.

#scrooge mcduck #the simpsons #carl barks #simpsons comics #montgomery burns #homer simpson #bart simpson #lisa simpson #maggie simpson #don rosa #professor frink #bongo comics #waylond smithers #reviews #ducktales

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lordpastawrites · 4 years

Text

Correspondence

Pairing: FrUk

Word count: 1954

Classification: Historical one shot (Victorian human AU)

"Uncle, another letter has arrived for you."

Peter, the newsboy that was also Arthur's nephew had come by again like every week to bring him a copy of the newspaper and any correspondences that were sent to him. By doing this, his uncle would pay him a shilling.

"Leave it by my desk, boy."

The Brit replied, walking out of the kitchen holding a cup of tea to his little studio where his living room was too. He lived in a modest house, enough for an unwed and lonesome gentleman. He glanced at the paper and letter left by Peter and recognized the scarlet seal of the envelope, and rolled his eyes, another one of those letters, how many have there been? At least 20 of them in the time of two months.

"You keep getting those letters with the same seal, yet you never reply to them."

The child questioned, staring at the man curiously as Arthur went to pick the card and threw it to the fireplace, just like he did with the other letters. He never even opened them, just threw them into the fire as it were scrap paper. The observant pageboy had been attentive, seeing that his uncle had little to no interest to read the content of those letters and simply got rid of them every single time. Yet week by week, letters with the same seal would come by, whoever was writing to his uncle was definitely very insistent.

"Indeed, because they are filled with nothing but rubbish."

He groaned, going back to his desk where he picked up the paper and opened it up to have a brief morning read before starting to work. The English man was a writer, his writings however were mostly unrecognized and never published. Constantly rejected and believe to be utter nonsense. Arthur was fascinated with technology and how rapid it advanced so he wrote all sorts of short stories imagining how the future might be, but all of them were turned down. The Brit was known for being a stubborn fellow, so he kept writing and he hoped that this project he was working on would finally get approval.

"But how do you know if you never read them?"

Did this boy not want to get paid? Peter was a talker and he knew that but what was this rebellious attitude towards his uncle? Arthur wouldn't tolerate it, taking the newspaper and smacking the child's head softly, without hurting him.

"Don't question your uncle, I'm your elder!"

The child nodded, covering his head when he saw the Brit raise the paper. It was a genuine question however, he never opened the letters and just tossed them to the fire. He had considered opening them up and reading it but his uncle would surely find suspicious if the letter didn't arrive weekly, so he didn't.

"Is it your mother pressuring you into marriage? Although that is not the seal from Madam Kirkland."

Peter still wanted to know, he was a child after all and curiosity was within his nature. He had heard from his mother that Arthur's mother was very concerned about him still being a bachelor and living in London alone, surviving just by writing, which hasn't been prosperous and he had to make several loans here and there. The boy was very aware of the women's gossip, always overhearing conversations or reading letters he shouldn't, he very much enjoyed the family gossip as much as the ladies.

"What? How do you know- I shouldn't even be having this conversation with you. What do you know anyway? You're merely a newsboy!"

The English man frowned, putting away his newspaper as he sat down on his desk and raised his teacup, sipping the steaming beverage. He was only upset because Peter was right, his mother was in fact already arranging a marriage for him with a wealthy family friend from the Netherlands. He knew of his mother's concerns and understood them. The truth was that he was not uninterested in marriage but his mother worried about his stability, marrying him off would not only solve his economic problems but also bring certain relief to his mum. He knew that there was no way of stopping her so the only way she would leave him alone was by proving her that he was fine by himself and to do that, he needed to publish his book.

"What about Lady Abelsson? I heard she would be visiting this summer with her brothers."

This was news for Arthur, he had no idea about that. His mother had definitely invited her and her siblings over, how wonderful, even the newsboy knew about it and not him, he was supposed to be the groom! It was outrageous, he would write a letter to mummy and express his discontent with making decisions without even asking him for his availability and that he was tired of being a puppet that was constantly pushed around. He did not want to marry Lady Abelsson and he did not want to marry any other woman! He was a lone wolf and would remain in that way, an eternal bachelor.

"Get out of here, at once!"

Peter noticed the change in the tone and hurried out of the place, without even asking for his shilling. Perhaps he overstepped his boundaries this time but by the look on his uncle's face, he didn't even have a clue about the news of Lady Abelsson. Arthur would deny it but the boy knew that he was his uncle's right-hand man, always keeping him updated on the rumors and gossips around the city and the Kirkland family.

"Marriage, nothing but a loveless transaction. Absolutely ridiculous."

He said under his breath, opening up a shelf in search of a paper to write to his mother and give her a piece of his mind. He was just looking for his fountain pen, another marvelous invention of the century when he heard a knock on his door, already assuming it was Peter, he shouted:

"Listen to chap, I'm not giving you a single shilling-"

He was speechless when he found Viscount Bonnefoy standing by the door and not his annoying nephew. This was even worse, the devil himself had come all the way from Paris to torment him as if the letters weren't enough to haunt him.

"Non, I don't need you shilling anyways. It's good to see you, sir Kirkland."

The French man sneered, taking off his top hat as he entered the house as if it were his own. The Brit still needed a moment to process everything that was going on. Why was Francis here? Why was he standing in the middle of his studio?

"I was doing just fine before your unwanted visit, monsieur Bonnefoy."

A chuckle came from Francis, that arrogant laugh that the English man hated. He still wasn't understating why this man was in London, if not to only bother him and ruin his day. The Viscount had no business in his city and should, in fact, leave at once.

"I see you're miserable as always, perfectly wretched."

The French man had a smirk across his face as he walked around in circles in the small studio owned by the Brit. The place clearly lacked decorations, it was clean at least but so tasteless. Francis would gladly redecorate the room for his friend if the English man would let him, of course.

"Why are you here? Shouldn't you be in Paris? Doing whatever the hell a Viscount should do?"

Arthur had met this man not long ago when he went to Paris to visit some family members, and he was introduced to the French man in a ball. Then both of them had a few too many drinks and well, regretful events happened that the Brit was still trying to get past by. Yet in that week that he was in France, he had spent almost every day with the Viscount and without a doubt, he could say that he very much despised Francis for numerous reasons. However, he was also in love with the Viscount, but he tried to deny those feelings at all costs.

"To pay you a visit, my dear friend."

Francis purred, picking up Arthur's teacup and having a sip from it. Tea was alright but he rather has wine, although he didn't expect the Brit to have any, judging by the size of his house and the way he was dressing. Not that it mattered, of course, the French man had plenty of money and time to spend in transforming his lover into a wealthy aristocrat without really being one.

"Whatever for?"

The Brit snatched back his teacup and drank what was rest of it. Did the Viscount not have any manners? First, getting inside his house without even asking for permission and then drinking his tea? He really was a stuck up twat.

"You never responded to any of my letters, I thought that you were perhaps ill, or dead!"

Francis was already expecting something like this to happen. After all the fun they had in Paris, he knew that Arthur would try to reject his true feelings and try to forget their past, but no. The Viscount wouldn't let his lover go so easily, he was here to take him back to France with him. Where they could be free, live comfortably and the Brit wouldn't have to worry about money and write whatever futuristic fictions he desired.

"As you can see I'm neither ill nor dead, so order your fine horses and go back to party city where you belong!"

The English man couldn't do this, he was still very much in love with the viscount but whatever was that they had could not possibly be. It was forbidden, it was wrong, it wasn't natural! That's what he was told at least, but his heart raced every time he saw Francis' eyes and he melted with every touch of the man, but they simply could never be. So he burned the letters without reading them in fear of his heart winning against his head.

"I will, but not without you."

Francis persisted, grabbing the Brit by the wrists that immediately produced a blush on Arthur's cheek while those emerald eyes looked at him with despair.

"No, you're out of your mind, now let go of me you git!"

The French man didn't let go, he did the exact opposite. Holding him tighter and pulling him closer as he leaned towards Arthur's face. He could feel Arthur's accelerated breathing and the blood rushing through his veins as they got even closer. He already knew that whatever the Brit had to say was not going to stop him and actions speak louder than words anyway and every reaction that the English man was having was positive.

"Francis, don't, please. You know that I won't be able to reject you and this will bring us nothing but sorrow afterward, let's not do this to us."

They were at the point of no return already, and the French man wouldn't take a step back. He pressed his lips against his lover's, brushing against each other softly and gently, sweetly intoxicating and enjoying the taste of those longed lips.

"You better not regret this, frog."

He fell again, completely succumbed to the viscount's charms once more. Francis simply smiled at him, pulling him into an embrace as the Brit rested his head on the French man's chest. Perhaps this was what destiny had separated for him, an unconventional romance with an unlikely lover. Who would have thought that ignoring correspondences could ever end up in such a joyous encounter?

#fruk #FrUk #aph france #aph england #hetalia england #hetalia france #hetalia #aph #hetalia one shot #aph one shot #hetalia fanfiction #aph fanfiction #historical hetalia #victorian au #human au

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uta-h3m-vcd-tbw · 3 years

Text

Who Am I?

I have attempted to dialogue the events in my life at least 100 times beforehand but probably more but could never bring myself to be completely honest. Call this a personal inventory if you will. I consider myself a better writer than most however when it comes to writing about myself my brain goes blank. I know what I want to say, it’s just how do you go about telling anyone....”I am a Heroin addict.”

I have read a couple books about other addicts & have watched countless documentaries, movies, & shows about addiction. Always paying close attention to how the writer unfolds his/her story trying to translate it to my own with little success. I eventually came to the conclusion that so much has happened in the two decades of drug use that there is no way fathomable to include everything...at least not in your standard literary fashion.

A few days ago I stumbled across a new series on Netflix about a girl that liked to blog on Tumblr & suddenly I felt I may have an outlet to format this timeline of events. Make no mistake about this...everything I write from this moment on is 100% true whether you choose to believe it or not. Hell looking back....I don’t believe it sometimes & constantly find myself asking God why am I still here & why have so many perished before/besides me? What makes me so special?

Most stories I read/watch about addiction are pretty generic. It typically starts with someone who was injured & prescribed pain killers only to get cut off from the doctor & led down the dark & endless path of Heroin addiction. They tell stories about the terrible things they did to maintain their habit & of loved ones they hurt along the way. While I did horrible things as well, hurt & lost too many loved ones to addiction...this story is unlike any of the rest. This is a story of addiction...obviously...but also one of organized crime, corruption, murder, extortion, jail/institutions, & love but mostly death.

Every addiction specialist or rehab I have been to always had the same fault....they try to find some underlying reason as to why I started, “self medicating,�� & attempt to address it. I’ve had numerous heated arguments with councilors & doctors who insisted I was suppressing something deep down & may not even know it! While I have heard of such instances to actually be the case I can very well tell you I am as normal as you are.

I grew up in a child’s utopia in an upper-middle class suburb roughly 20 miles North of Detroit. Think of the famous Tim Allen show, “Home Improvement.” Not only was I raised in Metro Detroit but I also come from a family of two parents, still married, & was the youngest of three boys. I know most people’s perception of Detroit isn’t very high however in the 80′s & 90′s it was a great place to start a family. Before the auto industry tanked most people skipped college to work on the assembly line at one of the, “Big Three,” (Ford, GM, or Chrysler) & lived comfortably. My dad was a, “Safety Restraint Engineer,” for a subsidiary company with several patents still in use today! We spent our days riding bikes through endless trails behind our house, building forts, playing back yard football, & camping in the backyard on warm summer nights. My brothers & I were raised Catholic. Went to Church every Sunday & Catechism on Thursday nights. If I could change one thing about my childhood I wouldn’t. It was that perfect! My Father didn’t fail to raise a man...I failed to be the man he raised.

When someone asks me why I started doing drugs I tell them because it was fun....simple as that. I know it sounds cliche but it’s true, everyone was doing them. My older brothers were way ahead of me, listening to Grateful Dead & dropping acid in middle school! I just liked drugs a lot more than everyone else. My mother knew I had an addictive personality because I would take everything I did to the max & always looked for instant gratification. I never wanted to wait/work for anything. I think my brothers were aware of this as well because they would NEVER sell me pot in these early days. They wouldn’t even talk to me about it. So as far as being as normal as everyone else....maybe that one’s a stretch. On the other hand I was years ahead of my classmates & understood how things worked much easier than the majority of my class.

By the time I reached High School I was selling/smoking pot & hanging out with kids my age but it wasn’t long before I caught the attention of the older guys in the neighborhood. I had already garnished a somewhat questionable reputation through my brothers by default & everyone knew my name from the paper route I had since I was roughly 12 years old. At first they were intimidating & I hated whenever I had to deliver papers on one of their streets...praying they wouldn’t be outside playing basketball or something. They always hung around the same two or three houses depending on who’s parents weren’t home that day. If they saw me coming every one of them would stop what they were doing & aim their attention towards me. All of them except one. I knew his face & heard stories whispered about him in the hallways at school. His name was Franco & he was not just the leader of their group...he was, “Head Fucking Hancho.” You know the scene from mob movies where people from the neighborhood come to sit with the boss & ask him all kinds of favors in return for their loyalty? That was Franco at age 15! He had everyone’s respect....even that of my older brothers who looked up to nobody. If you had a disagreement with Franco it didn’t go far. I’ve seen him hit guys so hard they temporarily lost the ability to speak! After a couple minutes of hazing from the guys he would shout from the porch telling them to leave me alone & they would scatter like roaches!

These encounters would eventually lead up to my first drug deal. Up until that point I had been stealing whatever I could from whichever brother wouldn’t notice at the time & smoking/selling it with & to my friends. They eventually caught me & beat the living shit out of me. I don’t think they were actually mad about the missing weed it was more about not stealing from your brother. The same day I was caught stealing weed I planned on meeting several kids from school at a friends house & of course everyone was expecting me to bring the pot. To this day I don’t know how I got the phone number or the guts to call it but I reached out to Franco’s best friend Mark. I don’t really no why I chose him....any of the older guys could have found me weed.....but I knew Mark sold it regularly & to pretty much anyone. There was no cell phones at this time so I had to call his house. He wasn’t as angry as I expected & told me to wait 5 minutes before riding my bike towards his side of the neighborhood. I did exactly as he instructed me to & before I could get to the end of my street he was pulling up in a dark green Ford Ranger...Frank was with him riding in the passenger seat. Mark got out...threw my bike in the back of his truck telling me to hop in the backseat before getting back behind the wheel & pealing off. The music was so loud I could barely understand the lyrics over the bass let alone what Frank & Mark were saying but it didn’t matter because they weren’t talking to me. At the time I thought Mark must want to get out of the neighborhood before doing the deal but after getting to know him I learned...that was his, “thing”. He loved to drive around, blaring music, & smoking weed with whoever was willing to tag along. He hated driving alone & his truck was like his office. Frank acted as if I wasn’t even there...holding a cool composure looking out the window while nodding his head to the music. Eventually we pulled down a random street, where Mark turned down the music before pulling the truck over. He turned around & asked me how much money I wanted to spend before opening a large grocery bag filled to the top with little, “dime bags,” or roughly a large gram of weed in each bag. I don’t know if it was how he had them bagged up but it was more than I had ever seen in one place at the time & my brothers always had a lot. I had a handful of crinkled five′s & one dollar bills I collected from my friends earlier in the day at school. It came out to around $24. I remember it was less than $25 because Mark insisted that an 8th cost $25 & that I was a dollar short. I didn’t even know what an 8th was or how much it cost but didn't want to screw up my first deal so I pretended it was just an honest mistake & he threw three bags in my lap. Franco asked where I was going & asked if I needed a ride which I humbly excepted.

From that day on things changed little by little with every passing day. I hung out less & less with the kids my age to be around Mark, Frank & the rest of the older guys. They saw me as the kid who could sell a lot of weed since I already had that reputation from my classmates. I saw them as a ticket to popularity. In my mind it was an even trade. My mother had an entirely different opinion.....constantly telling me I should be hanging around with my younger friends. To me it was harmless....choosing to see it as normal for a kid my age. I had no idea where this new found friendship would lead us. I had no idea what I was getting myself into.

As I was saying before....so much has happened since this day that I cannot even begin to piece it all together in a manner in which it flows conveniently into a timeline of events. This is the beginning of my attempt & you will have to stick with me to learn more as I continue to publish. I will warn you upfront that I will be changing some names, maybe even places or be vague as I am still getting death threats to this day & also don’t want to negatively impact any of the families that have already been ripped apart from unimaginable losses. Lastly I am still weary about telling my story in it’s entirety. I am sure those who are close to me will be able to figure out who I am since most of what I am going to tell you has never been a secret save one part. I have never told ANYONE the FULL story other than my parents. I feel it is the main reason I have struggled in all my attempts at telling/writing what actually happened. Please understand that I take absolutely NO pride in the things I have done & only feel I need to document what I went through so maybe the next kid contemplating the path I chose....will rethink the decision. I can tell you now their is no glory or honor in what we did & the end result was nothing but pain & suffering for our victims as well as ourselves. I really hope nobody reads this the wrong way & that I am able to accurately portray the pain/anguish we caused so they realize how brainwashed we were & the impact you can have on others no matter how minor you think it is. You have to stand up against what may seem to be the correct/hard decision at the time or even a harmless one that you know in your heart/gut is questionable & choose to do what you know to be right. The definition of the word, “popular,” is; liked, admired, or enjoyed by many people or by a particular person or group. The groups that are using/selling drugs are the minority & in the end you will find most are not truly your friend. When I go on social media, looking back at all the kids I graduated with, I realize now that those who did well in school & actively participated were actually the, “cool kids.” They are the ones posting pictures of new houses, nice cars & beautiful wives with blossoming families. There is nothing cool about being alone & having nothing to show for the last two decades of your life but scars. It is not romantic in any way shape or form. You will not find comfort.

Stay tuned for more to come!

#addiction #drugs #illegal #heroin

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isslibrary · 4 years

Text

New additions to the Indian Springs School Library May thru August 2020

Bibliography

Sorted by Call Number / Author.

152.4 O

Owens, Lama Rod, 1979- author. Love and rage : the path of liberation through anger. "Reconsidering the power of anger as a positive and necessary tool for achieving spiritual liberation and social change"--.

200.973 M

Manseau, Peter. One nation, under gods : a new American history. First edition.

304.8 K

Keneally, Thomas. The great shame : and the triumph of the Irish in the English-speaking world. 1st ed. New York : Nan A. Talese, 1999.

305.5 V

Vance, J. D., author. Hillbilly elegy : a memoir of a family and culture in crisis. First Harper paperback edition. "Hillbilly Elegy is a passionate and personal analysis of a culture in crisis--that of white working-class Americans. The decline of this group, a demographic of our country that has been slowly disintegrating over forty years, has been reported on with growing frequency and alarm, but has never before been written about as searingly from the inside. J. D. Vance tells the true story of what a social, regional, and class decline feels like when you were born with it hung around your neck. The Vance family story begins hopefully in postwar America. J. D.'s grandparents were "dirt poor and in love," and moved north from Kentucky's Appalachia region to Ohio in the hopes of escaping the dreadful poverty around them. They raised a middle-class family, and eventually their grandchild (the author) would graduate from Yale Law School, a conventional marker of their success in achieving generational upward mobility. But as the family saga of Hillbilly Elegy plays out, we learn that this is only the short, superficial version. Vance's grandparents, aunt, uncle, sister, and, most of all, his mother, struggled profoundly with the demands of their new middle-class life, and were never able to fully escape the legacy of abuse, alcoholism, poverty, and trauma so characteristic of their part of America. Vance piercingly shows how he himself still carries around the demons of their chaotic family history. A deeply moving memoir with its share of humor and vividly colorful figures, Hillbilly Elegy is the story of how upward mobility really feels. And it is an urgent and troubling meditation on the loss of the American dream for a large segment of this country." -- Publisher's description.

305.8 D

DiAngelo, Robin J., author. White fragility : why it's so hard for white people to talk about racism.

305.800973 D

Dyson, Michael Eric, author. Tears we cannot stop : a sermon to white America. First edition. I. Call to worship -- II. Hymns of praise -- III. Invocation -- IV. Scripture reading -- V. Sermon -- Repenting of whiteness -- Inventing whiteness -- The five stages of white grief -- The plague of white innocence -- Being Black in America -- Nigger -- Our own worst enemy? -- Coptopia -- VI. Benediction -- VII. Offering plate -- VIII. Prelude to service -- IX. Closing prayer. "In the wake of yet another set of police killings of black men, Michael Eric Dyson wrote a tell-it-straight, no holds barred piece for the NYT on Sunday July 7: Death in Black and White (It was updated within a day to acknowledge the killing of police officers in Dallas). The response has been overwhelming. Beyoncé and Isabel Wilkerson tweeted it, JJ Abrams, among many other prominent people, wrote him a long fan letter. The NYT closed the comments section after 2,500 responses, and Dyson has been on NPR, BBC, and CNN non-stop since then. Fifty years ago Malcolm X told a white woman who asked what she could do for the cause: Nothing. Dyson believes he was wrong. In Tears We Cannot Stop, he responds to that question. If we are to make real racial progress, we must face difficult truths, including being honest about how black grievance has been ignored, dismissed or discounted. As Dyson writes: At birth you are given a pair of binoculars that see black life from a distance, never with the texture of intimacy. Those binoculars are privilege; they are status, regardless of your class. In fact the greatest privilege that exists is for white folk to get stopped by a cop and not end up dead...The problem is you do not want to know anything different from what you think you know...You think we have been handed everything because we fought your selfish insistence that the world, all of it--all its resources, all its riches, all its bounty, all its grace--should be yours first and foremost, and if there's anything left, why then we can have some, but only if we ask politely and behave gratefully"--Provided by publisher.

305.800973 G

Begin again : James Baldwin's America and its urgent lessons for our own. New York, NY : Crown; an imprint of Random House, 2020.

305.800973 O

Oluo, Ijeoma, author. So you want to talk about race. First trade paperback edition.

320.9 B

Bass, Jack. The transformation of southern politics : social change and political consequence since 1945. New York : Basic Books, c1976.

323.1196 L

Lowery, Lynda Blackmon, 1950- author. Turning 15 on the road to freedom : my story of the 1965 Selma Voting Rights March. Growing up strong and determined -- In the movement -- Jailbirds -- In the sweatbox -- Bloody Sunday -- Headed for Montgomery -- Turning 15 -- Weary and wet -- Montgomery at last -- Why voting rights? -- Discussion guide. As the youngest marcher in the 1965 voting rights march from Selma to Montgomery, Alabama, Lynda Blackmon Lowery proved that young adults can be heroes. Jailed nine times before her fifteenth birthday, Lowery fought alongside Martin Luther King, Jr. for the rights of African-Americans. In this memoir, she shows today's young readers what it means to fight nonviolently (even when the police are using violence, as in the Bloody Sunday protest) and how it felt to be part of changing American history.

364.973 U.S.

U.S. national debate topic, 2020-2021.

420 M

McCrum, Robert. The story of English. 1st American ed. New York, N.Y., U.S.A. : Viking, 1986.

488.2421 A

Balme, M. G., author. Athenaze : an introduction to ancient Greek. Revised Third edition. Book I -- Book II.

510 C

Clegg, Brian. Are numbers real? : the uncanny relationship of mathematics and the physical world.

530.092 F

F©œlsing, Albrecht, 1940-. Albert Einstein : a biography. New York : Viking Penguin: a division of Penguin Books USA, Inc, 1997. Family -- School -- A "child prodigy" -- "Vagabond and loner" : student days in Zurich -- Looking for a job -- Expert III class -- "Herr Doktor Einstein" and the reality of atoms -- The "very revolutionary" light quanta -- Relative movement : "my life for seven years" -- The theory of relativity : "a modification of the theory of space and time" -- Acceptance, opposition, tributes -- Expert II class -- From "bad joke" to "Herr Professor" -- Professor in Zurich -- Full professor in Prague, but not for long -- Toward the general theory of relativity -- From Zurich to Berlin -- "In a madhouse" : a pacifist in Prussia -- "The greatest satisfaction of my life" : the completion of the general theory of relativity -- Wartime in Berlin -- Postwar chaos and revolution -- Confirmation and the deflection of light : "the suddenly famous Dr. Einstein" -- Relativity under the spotlight -- "Traveler in relativity" -- Jewry, Zionism, and a trip to America -- More hustle, long journeys, a lot of politics, and a little physics -- Einstein receives the Nobel Prize and in consequence becomes a Prussian -- "The marble smile of implacable nature" : the search for the unified field theory -- The problems of quantum theory -- Critique of quantum mechanics -- Politics, patents, sickness, and a "wonderful egg" -- Public and private affairs -- Farewell to Berlin -- Exile in liberation -- Princeton -- Physical reality and a paradox, relativity and unified theory -- War, a letter, and the bomb -- Between bomb and equations -- "An old debt. Albert Einstein's achievements are not just milestones in the history of science; decades ago they became an integral part of the twentieth-century world in which we live. Like no other modern physicist he altered and expanded our understanding of nature. Like few other scholars, he stood fully in the public eye. In a world changing with dramatic rapidity, he embodied the role of the scientist by personal example. Albrecht Folsing, relying on previously unknown sources. And letters, brings Einstein's "genius" into focus. Whereas former biographies, written in the tradition of the history of science, seem to describe a heroic Einstein who fell to earth from heaven, Folsing attempts to reconstruct Einstein's thought in the context of the state of research at the turn of the century. Thus, perhaps for the first time, Einstein's surroundings come to light.

530.092 G

Gleick, James. Isaac Newton. 1st ed. New York : Pantheon Books, c2003.

539.7 B

Lise Meitner : Discoverer of Nuclear Fission. Greensboro, NC : Morgan Reynolds, Inc, 2000. A biography of the Austrian scientist whose discoveries in nuclear physics played a major part in developing atomic energy.

598.07 T

Watching birds : reflections on the wing. United States : Ragged Mountain Press, 2000.

811 D

Dabydeen, David. Turner : new and selected poems. 2010. Leeds : Peepal Tree Press, Ltd, 12010.

811.54 J

Jones, Ashley M., 1990- author. Dark // thing. Slurret -- //Side A: 3rd grade birthday party -- //Side B: roebuck is the ghetto -- Harriette Winslow and Aunt Rachel clean -- Collard greens on prime time television -- My grandfather returns as oil -- Elegy for Willie Lee "Murr"Lipscomb -- Proof at the Red Sea -- Sunken place sestina -- Hair -- Antiquing -- The book of Tubman -- Harriet Tubman crosses the Mason Dixon for the first time -- Avian Abecedarian -- Harriet Tubman, beauty queen or ain't I a woman? -- Broken sonnet in which Harriet is the gun -- Recitation -- What flew out of Aunt Hester's scream -- Election year 2016: the motto -- Uncle Remus syrup commemorative lynching postcard #25 -- To the black man popping a wheelie on -- Interstate 59 North on 4th of July weekend -- Red dirt suite -- Love/luv/ -- Summerstina -- Ode to Dwayne Waye, or, I want to be Whitley -- Gilbert when I grow up -- I am not selected for jury duty the week bill -- Cosby's jury selection is underway -- A small, disturbing fact -- Water -- Today, I saw a black man open his arms to the wind -- Xylography -- I see a smear of animal on the road and mistake it for philando castile -- There is a beel at morehouse college -- Dark water -- Who will survive in America? or 2017: a horror film -- In-flight entertainment -- Imitation of life -- Broken sonnet for the decorative cotton for sale at Whole Foods -- Racists in space -- When you tell me I'd be prettier with straight hair -- (Black) hair -- Kindergarten villandelle -- Song of my muhammad -- Ode to Al Jolson -- Hoghead cheese haiku -- Aunties -- Thing of a marvelous thing / It's the same as having wings. A multi-faceted work that explores the darkness/otherness by which the world sees Black people. Ashley M. Jones stares directly into the face of the racism that allows people to be seen as dark things, as objects that can be killed/enslaved/oppressed/devalued. This work, full as it is of slashes of all kinds, ultimately separates darkness from thingness, affirming and celebrating humanity.

814.6 G

Gay, Roxane, author. Bad feminist : essays. First edition. A collection of essays spanning politics, criticism, and feminism from one of the most-watched young cultural observers of her generation, Roxane Gay. "Pink is my favorite color. I used to say my favorite color was black to be cool, but it is pink, all shades of pink. If I have an accessory, it is probably pink. I read Vogue, and I'm not doing it ironically, though it might seem that way. I once live-tweeted the September issue." In these funny and insightful essays, Roxane Gay takes us through the journey of her evolution as a woman (Sweet Valley High) of color (The Help) while also taking readers on a ride through culture of the last few years (Girls, Django in Chains) and commenting on the state of feminism today (abortion, Chris Brown). The portrait that emerges is not only one of an incredibly insightful woman continually growing to understand herself and our society, but also one of our culture. Bad Feminist is a sharp, funny, and spot-on look at the ways in which the culture we consume becomes who we are, and an inspiring call-to-arms of all the ways we still need to do better.

822.3 T

the tragical history of Doctor Faustus : The Elizabethan Play. Annotated & Edited by John D. Harris, 2018. Wabasha, MN : Hungry Point Press, 2018.

822.33 Shakespeare

Major literary characters : Hamlet. New York : Chelsea House Publishers, c. 1990.

822.8 W

Wilde, Oscar, 1854-1900. An ideal husband. Mineola, N.Y. : Dover Publications, 2000.

823.914

Vincenzi, Penny, author. Windfall. 1st U.S. ed. Sensible Cassia Fallon has been married to her doctor husband for seven years when her godmother leaves her a huge fortune. For the first time in her life, she is able to do exactly as she likes, and she starts to question her marriage, her past, her present, and her future. But where did her inheritance really come from and why? Too soon the windfall has become a corrupting force, one that Cassia cannot resist.

843.8 F

Flaubert, Gustave, 1821-1880. Three tales. Oxford ; : Oxford University Press, 2009. A simple heart -- The legend of Saint Julian the Hospitaller -- Herodias.

909 S

Sachs, Jeffrey, author. The ages of globalization : geography, technology, and institutions. "Today's most urgent problems are fundamentally global. They require nothing less than concerted, planetwide action if we are to secure a long-term future. But humanity's story has always been on a global scale, and this history deeply informs the present. In this book, Jeffrey D. Sachs, renowned economist and expert on sustainable development, turns to world history to shed light on how we can meet the challenges and opportunities of the twenty-first century. Sachs takes readers through a series of six distinct waves of technological and ideological change, starting with the very beginnings of our species and ending with reflections on present-day globalization. Along the way, he considers how the interplay of geography, technology, and institutions influenced the Neolithic revolution; the spread of land-based empires; the opening of sea routes from Europe to Asia and the Americas; and the industrial age. The dynamics of these past waves, Sachs contends, give us new perspective on the ongoing processes taking place in our own time-and how we should work to guide the change we need. In light of this new understanding of globalization, Sachs emphasizes the need for new methods of international governance and cooperation to achieve economic, social, and environmental objectives aligned with sustainable development. The Ages of Globalization is a vital book for all readers aiming to make sense of our rapidly changing world"--.

937.002 B

Bing, Stanley. Rome, inc. : the rise and fall of the first multinational corporation. 1st. ed. New York : Norton, c2006.

937.63 L

Laurence, Ray, 1963-. Ancient Rome as it was : exploring the city of Rome in AD 300.

940.3 B

Brooks, Max. The Harlem Hellfighters. First edition. "From bestselling author Max Brooks, the riveting story of the highly decorated, barrier-breaking, historic black regiment--the Harlem Hellfighters. The Harlem Hellfighters is a fictionalized account of the 369th Infantry Regiment--the first African American regiment mustered to fight in World War I. From the enlistment lines in Harlem to the training camp at Spartanburg, South Carolina, to the trenches in France, bestselling author Max Brooks tells the thrilling story of the heroic journey that these soldiers undertook for a chance to fight for America. Despite extraordinary struggles and discrimination, the 369th became one of the most successful--and least celebrated--regiments of the war. The Harlem Hellfighters, as their enemies named them, spent longer than any other American unit in combat and displayed extraordinary valor on the battlefield. Based on true events and featuring artwork from acclaimed illustrator Caanan White, these pages deliver an action-packed and powerful story of courage, honor, and heart"--. "This is a graphic novel about the first African-American regiment to fight in World War One"--.

940.53 B

Browning, Christopher R., author. Ordinary men : Reserve Police Battalion 101 and the final solution in Poland. Revised edition. One morning in Józefów -- The order police -- The order police and the Final solution : Russia 1941 -- The order police and the Final solution : deportation -- Reserve Police Battalion 101 -- Arrival in Poland -- Initiation to mass muder : the Józefów massacre -- Reflections on a massacre -- Łomazy : the descent of Second Company -- The August deportations to Treblinka -- Late-September shootings -- The deportations resume -- The strange health of Captain Hoffmann -- The "Jew hunt" -- The last massacres : "Harvest festival" -- Aftermath -- Germans, Poles, and Jews -- Ordinary men. In the early hours of July 13, 1942, the men of Reserve Police Battalion 101, a unit of the German Order Police, entered the Polish Village of Jozefow. They had arrived in Poland less than three weeks before, most of them recently drafted family men too old for combat service--workers, artisans, salesmen, and clerks. By nightfall, they had rounded up Jozefow's 1,800 Jews, selected several hundred men as "work Jews," and shot the rest--that is, some 1,500 women, children, and old people. Most of these overage, rear-echelon reserve policemen had grown to maturity in the port city of Hamburg in pre-Hitler Germany and were neither committed Nazis nor racial fanatics. Nevertheless, in the sixteen months from the Jozefow massacre to the brutal Erntefest ("harvest festival") slaughter of November 1943, these average men participated in the direct shooting deaths of at least 38,000 Jews and the deportation to Treblinka's gas chambers of 45,000 more--a total body count of 83,000 for a unit of less than 500 men. Drawing on postwar interrogations of 210 former members of the battalion, Christopher Browning lets them speak for themselves about their contribution to the Final Solution--what they did, what they thought, how they rationalized their behavior (one man would shoot only infants and children, to "release" them from their misery). In a sobering conclusion, Browning suggests that these good Germans were acting less out of deference to authority or fear of punishment than from motives as insidious as they are common: careerism and peer pressure. With its unflinching reconstruction of the battalion's murderous record and its painstaking attention to the social background and actions of individual men, this unique account offers some of the most powerful and disturbing evidence to date of the ordinary human capacity for extraordinary inhumanity.

940.54 S

Snyder, Timothy. Bloodlands : Europe between Hitler and Stalin. New York : Basic Books, c2010. Hitler and Stalin -- The Soviet famines -- Class terror -- National terror -- Molotov-Ribbentrop Europe -- The economics of apocalypse -- Final solution -- Holocaust and revenge -- The Nazi death factories -- Resistance and incineration -- Ethnic cleansings -- Stalinist antisemitism -- Humanity.

951.03 S

The search for modern China : a documentary collection. Third edition.

973 M

Meacham, Jon, author. The soul of America : the battle for our better angels. First edition. Introduction : To hope rather than to fear -- The confidence of the whole people : visions of the Presidency, the ideas of progress and prosperity, and "We, the people" -- The long shadow of Appomattox : the Lost Cause, the Ku Klux Klan, and Reconstruction -- With soul of flame and temper of steel : "the melting pot," TR and his "bully pulpit," and the Progressive promise -- A new and good thing in the world : the triumph of women's suffrage, the Red Scare, and a new Klan -- The crisis of the old order : the Great Depression, Huey Long, the New Deal, and America First -- Have you no sense of decency? : "making everyone middle class," the GI Bill, McCarthyism, and modern media -- What the hell is the presidency for? : "segregation forever," King's crusade, and LBJ in the crucible -- Conclusion : The first duty of an American citizen. "We have been here before. In this timely and revealing book, ... author Jon Meacham helps us understand the present moment in American politics and life by looking back at critical times in our history when hope overcame division and fear. With clarity and purpose, Meacham explores contentious periods and how presidents and citizens came together to defeat the forces of anger, intolerance, and extremism. Our current climate of partisan fury is not new, and in The Soul of America Meacham shows us how what Abraham Lincoln called 'the better angels of our nature' have repeatedly won the day. Painting surprising portraits of Lincoln and other presidents, including Ulysses S. Grant, Theodore Roosevelt, Woodrow Wilson, Franklin D. Roosevelt, Harry S. Truman, Dwight Eisenhower, and Lyndon B. Johnson, and illuminating the courage of such influential citizen activists as Martin Luther King, Jr., early suffragettes Alice Paul and Carrie Chapman Catt, civil rights pioneers Rosa Parks and John Lewis, First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt, and Army-McCarthy hearings lawyer Joseph N. Welch, Meacham brings vividly to life turning points in American history. He writes about the Civil War, Reconstruction, and the birth of the Lost Cause; the backlash against immigrants in the First World War and the resurgence of the Ku Klux Klan in the 1920s; the fight for women's rights; the demagoguery of Huey Long and Father Coughlin and the isolationist work of America First in the years before World War II; the anti-Communist witch-hunts led by Senator Joseph McCarthy; and Lyndon Johnson's crusade against Jim Crow. Each of these dramatic hours in our national life has been shaped by the contest to lead the country to look forward rather than back, to assert hope over fear--a struggle that continues even now. While the American story has not always--or even often--been heroic, we have been sustained by a belief in progress even in the gloomiest of times. In this inspiring book, Meacham reassures us, "The good news is that we have come through such darkness before"--as, time and again, Lincoln's better angels have found a way to prevail."--Dust jacket.

976.1 S

Smith, Petric J., 1940-. Long time coming : an insider's story of the Birmingham church bombing that rocked the world. 1st ed. Birmingham, Ala. : Crane Hill, 1994.

F Bir

Birch, Anna, author. I kissed Alice. First. "Fan Girl meets Simon vs. The Homo Sapiens Agenda in this #ownvoices LGBTQ romance about two rivals who fall in love online"--.

F Bra

Bradbury, Ray, 1920-2012, author. Fahrenheit 451. Simon & Schuster trade paperback edition, 60th anniversary edition. Introduction / by Neil Gaiman -- Fahrenheit 451. The hearth and the salamander ; The sieve and the sand ; Burning bright. History, context, and criticism / edited by Jonathan R. Eller. pt. 1. The story of Fahrenheit 451. The story of Fahrenheit 451 / by Jonathan R. Eller ; From The day after tomorrow: why science fiction? (1953) / by Ray Bradbury ; Listening library audio introduction (1976) / by Ray Bradbury ; Investing dimes: Fahrenheit 451 (1982, 1989) / by Ray Bradbury ; Coda (1979) / by Ray Bradbury -- pt. 2. Other voices. The novel. From a letter to Stanley Kauffmann / by Nelson Algren ; Books of the times / by Orville Prescott ; From New wine, old bottles / by Gilbert Highet ; New novels / by Idris Parry ; New fiction / by Sir John Betjeman ; 1984 and all that / by Adrian Mitchell ; From New maps of hell / by Sir Kingsley Amis ; Introduction to Ray Bradbury's Fahrenheit 451 / by Harold Bloom ; Fahrenheit 451 / by Margaret Atwood ; The motion picture. Shades of Orwell / by Arthur Knight ; From The journal of Fahrenheit 451 / by Fran©ʹois Truffaut. In a future totalitarian state where books are banned and destroyed by the government, Guy Montag, a fireman in charge of burning books, meets a revolutionary schoolteacher who dares to read and a girl who tells him of a past when people did not live in fear ... This sixtieth-anniversary edition commemorates Ray Bradbury's masterpiece with a new introduction by Neil Gaiman ; personal essays on the genesis of the novel by the author; a wealth of critical essays and reviews by Nelson Algren, Harold Bloom, Margaret Atwood, and others; rare manuscript pages and sketches from Ray Bradbury's personal archive; and much more ... --- From back cover.

F DeL

White noise. 2009; with an introduction by Richard Powers. New York, NY : Penguin Books, 2009.

F Gri

Grisham, John, author. Camino Island. First edition. Bruce Cable owns a popular bookstore in the sleepy resort town of Santa Rosa on Camino Island in Florida. He makes his real money, though, as a prominent dealer in rare books. Very few people know that he occasionally dabbles in the black market of stolen books and manuscripts. Mercer Mann is a young novelist with a severe case of writer's block who has recently been laid off from her teaching position. She is approached by an elegant, mysterious woman working for an even more mysterious company. A generous offer of money convinces Mercer to go undercover and infiltrate Bruce Cable's circle of literary friends, ideally getting close enough to him to learn his secrets. But eventually Mercer learns far too much.--Adapted from book jacket.

F Hem

Hemingway, Ernest, 1899-1961, author. The sun also rises. The Hemingway library edition. The novel -- Appendix I: Pamplona, July 1923 -- Appendix II: Early drafts -- Appendix III: The discarded first chapters -- Appendix IV: List of possible titles. A profile of the Lost Generation captures life among the expatriates on Paris' Left Bank during the 1920s, the brutality of bullfighting in Spain, and the moral and spiritual dissolution of a generation.

F Hur

Hurston, Zora Neale. Their eyes were watching god. 1st Harper Perennial Modern Classics ed. New York : Harper Perennial Modern Classics, 2006. Foreword / Edwidge Danticat -- Their eyes were watching God -- Afterword / Henry Louis Gates, Jr. -- Selected bibliography -- Chronology. A novel about black Americans in Florida that centers on the life of Janie and her three marriages.

F Kid

Kidd, Sue Monk. The invention of wings. The story follows Hetty "Handful" Grimke, a Charleston slave, and Sarah, the daughter of the wealthy Grimke family. The novel begins on Sarah's eleventh birthday, when she is given ownership over Handful, who is to be her handmaid, and follows the next thirty-five years of their lives. Inspired in part by the historical figure of Sarah Grimke (a feminist, suffragist and, importantly, an abolitionist), the author allows herself to go beyond the record to flesh out the inner lives of all the characters, both real and imagined. -- Provided by publisher. "Hetty 'Handful' Grimke, an urban slave in early nineteenth century Charleston, yearns for life beyond the suffocating walls that enclose her within the wealthy Grimke household. The Grimke's daughter, Sarah, has known from an early age she is meant to do something large in the world, but she is hemmed in by the limits imposed on women. The novel is set in motion on Sarah's eleventh birthday, when she is given ownership of ten year old Handful, who is to be her handmaid. We follow their remarkable journeys over the next thirty five years, as both strive for a life of their own, dramatically shaping each other's destinies and forming a complex relationship marked by guilt, defiance, estrangement and the uneasy ways of love. As the stories build to a riveting climax, Handful will endure loss and sorrow, finding courage and a sense of self in the process. Sarah will experience crushed hopes, betrayal, unrequited love, and ostracism before leaving Charleston to find her place alongside her fearless younger sister, Angelina, as one of the early pioneers in the abolition and women's rights movements. Inspired by the historical figure of Sarah Grimke, the author goes beyond the record to flesh out the rich interior lives of all of her characters, both real and invented, including Handful's cunning mother, Charlotte, who courts danger in her search for something better. This novel looks with unswerving eyes at a devastating wound in American history, through women whose struggles for liberation, empowerment, and expression will leave no reader unmoved. -- Publisher's description.

F Nab

Vladimir Nabokov. Glory. United States : McGraw-Hill International, Inc, 1971.

F Orw

Orwell, George, 1903-1950. 1984. Signet Classics. New York, NY : Berkley: an imprint of Penguin Random House, LLC, c. 1977. "Eternal warfare is the price of bleak prosperity in this satire of totalitarian barbarism."--ARBookFind.

F Sal

Salinger, J. D. (Jerome David), 1919-2010. Nine stories. 1st Back Bay pbk. ed. Boston : Back Bay Books/Little, Brown, 2001, c1991. A perfect day for bananafish -- Uncle wiggily in Connecticut -- Just before the war with the Eskimos -- The laughing man -- Down at the dinghy -- For Esme--with love and squalor -- Pretty mouth and green my eyes -- De Daumier-Smith's blue period -- Teddy. Salinger's classic collection of short stories is now available in trade paperback.

F Tho

Thomas, Angie, author. The hate u give. First edition. "Sixteen-year-old Starr Carter moves between two worlds: the poor neighborhood where she lives and the fancy suburban prep school she attends. The uneasy balance between these worlds is shattered when Starr witnesses the fatal shooting of her childhood best friend Khalil at the hands of a police officer. Khalil was unarmed. Soon afterward, his death is a national headline. Some are calling him a thug, maybe even a drug dealer and a gangbanger. Protesters are taking to the streets in Khalil's name. Some cops and the local drug lord try to intimidate Starr and her family. What everyone wants to know is: what really went down that night? And the only person alive who can answer that is Starr. But what Starr does or does not say could upend her community. It could also endanger her life"--.

F Tho

Thomas, Angie, author. On the come up. First edition. Sixteen-year-old Bri hopes to become a great rapper, and after her first song goes viral for all the wrong reasons, must decide whether to sell out or face eviction with her widowed mother.

F Tol

The Hobbit : or There and Back Again. First U.S. edition; Illus. by Jemima Catlin, 2013. New York, NY : HarperCollins Publishers, 2013.

F Ver

Around the world in 80 days. Classics. Trans. by Geo. M. Towle. Lexington, KY, : October 29. 2019.

F Ver

Around the world in 80 days. Illustrated First Edition. Translated by Geo. M. Towle. Orinda, CA : SeaWolf Press, 2018.

F. Gri

Belfry Holdings, Inc. (Charlottesville, Virginia), author. Camino winds : a novel. Hardcover. "#1 New York Times bestselling author John Grisham returns to Camino Island in this irresistible page-turner that's as refreshing as an island breeze. In Camino Winds, mystery and intrigue once again catch up with novelist Mercer Mann, proving that the suspense never rests-even in paradise"--.

SC A

Alomar, Osama, 1968- author, translator. The teeth of the comb & other stories.

SC Mac

Machado, Carmen Maria, author. Her body and other parties : stories. Contains short stories about the realities of women's lives and the violence visited upon their bodies. "In Her Body and Other Parties, Carmen Maria Machado blithely demolishes the arbitrary borders between psychological realism and science fiction, comedy and horror, fantasy and fabulism. While her work has earned her comparisons to Karen Russell and Kelly Link, she has a voice that is all her own. In this electric and provocative debut, Machado bends genre to shape startling narratives that map the realities of women's lives and the violence visited upon their bodies. A wife refuses her husband's entreaties to remove the green ribbon from around her neck. A woman recounts her sexual encounters as a plague slowly consumes humanity. A salesclerk in a mall makes a horrifying discovery within the seams of the store's prom dresses. One woman's surgery-induced weight loss results in an unwanted houseguest. And in the bravura novella 'Especially Heinous,' Machado reimagines every episode of Law & Order: Special Victims Unit, a show we naïvely assumed had shown it all, generating a phantasmagoric police procedural full of doppelgängers, ghosts, and girls with bells for eyes. Earthy and otherworldly, antic and sexy, queer and caustic, comic and deadly serious, Her Body and Other Parties swings from horrific violence to the most exquisite sentiment. In their explosive originality, these stories enlarge the possibilities of contemporary fiction." -- Publisher's description.

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imagineclaireandjamie · 5 years

Note

Prompt: Cry me a river, I cried a river over you.

Part ONE:

The train northbound was packed, not unusual, but it made Claire feel exposed. She’d begun crying the moment she’d received the phone call and hadn’t stopped since. It was the reason she was using public transport in the first place and not driving - the last thing she needed was to be involved in a car accident because of her impaired vision.

Adorned with inappropriately large sunglasses on a dismal day, with her scarf wrapped tightly around her neck to hide as much of her face as possible, she had boarded at Oxford, her chest tight as it suddenly dawned on her that she was trailing all the way up to Glasgow and she wouldn’t be seeing Lamb alive.

“Christ…” she sighed under her breath, her eyes tingling once more as the tears began to build.

Her uncle, Quentin Lambert, had been settled in Scotland for some time - something quite odd for him, he was definitely more of the travelling sort. He’d started on a memoir that he’d meant to publish and had, on several occasions, asked for Claire’s companionship and assistance. Caught up in her own drama, she had declined and the guilt sat low in her belly making it almost impossible to eat or sleep.

A gentle Irish train guard pulled her from her dark thoughts and she quietly pulled her ticket from the small purse that sat open on the food tray in front of her before going back to staring out of the window.

Parents both dead by the tender age of twelve, Claire had been sent to live with Lamb. His life as a traveling archeologist was not suited to raising a child and he had tried to place Claire in a boarding school - though she had other ideas. Smiling, she thought back to the day she’d finally pushed the headmistress of the school too far causing uncle Lamb to have to cut short a sudden trip to India and return to England to fetch her. She remembered fondly throwing the stupid boater she’d been graced with as part of the uniform into a nearby hedge as they’d driven away down the long drive. Her formative years had been spent in the desert - surrounded by her uncles peers, graduates and students, she had learned to fend for herself.

Though she had good memories of her mother and father, it was Lamb who had raised her through her most difficult teenage years and at the end of his life, when he had so desperately wanted to involve her in his hobbies once more, she had forsaken him for silly follies.

Lost to her guilt and self-loathing, she completely lost track of time and it wasn’t until the young woman sat next to her rose from her seat that she realised the train had come to a grinding halt.

The battle through Glasgow Central train station gave her a moment to focus on something else, her heart racing and her hands clammy as she pulled her rather large suitcase through, nudging and shoving tourists and locals alike in order to make it out onto the street.

Her name shone in bright red ink, the sign hiding the face of the man who held it as she shook her head.

“I h-hadn’t called anyone?” She said, shocked that there was anyone here who would know her.

“Aye, ye did. The other day. I thought it would be easier for ye if someone was here to collect you rather than spend more time on yer own.”

“Oh.” She replied. The word stuck in her throat as she recalled the very short phone call she’d made to the funeral director a few mornings prior when she’d booked her train ticket. A simple nod to the man who’d been emailing her and organising as much as he could with her hundreds of miles away. “Are you with the funeral company then?” Claire found it odd that any of them would be worried enough to come out and collect her personally - but was grateful at the same time. Riding in the comfort of a car without having to hunt down a taxi, make inane conversation and then struggle to find her uncles address made the end of the journey just a little easier.

“Ah,” he replied, finally pulling the sign low enough that she could see the bright mop of red hair that sat proudly above a glowing set of blue eyes, “nah, I’m no’ with them. I’m Jamie,” he continued, holding out his free hand for her to shake. “Jamie Fraser. I was working on the book with yer uncle. I work with the publicist he’d hired. Did he tell ye?”

When she didn’t respond, he simply smiled and continued as if the small twitch of her lips was enough. “I’m a ghost writer. He was struggling to write himself, so he hired me to type whilst he spoke, told me all sorts of stories and I, in turn, edited it, re-worded it sometimes or just added it to the appropriate section of the book.”

Guilt reared its ugly head again, making Claire understand more fully why Lamb might have wanted her company so badly and she bit her lip to contain the tears. Repeating herself, she swallowed audibly and nodded, “oh…good.” Making it sound sincere, she smiled as much as she was able before allowing him to place his arm softly around her waist and guide her towards his waiting car.

The ride itself was quiet and uneventful. Claire needed the time to decompress the situation, her brain going from nought to one hundred in the short twenty minute car journey. They approached the quaint brownstone property on the outskirts of the city with little to no issue. It had its own private garage and Jamie flicked a switch on a small remote to open and close the large grey-brown door. Taking the stairs in a small passage way, they made their way up onto the first floor, Jamie opening and closing everything behind her as well as carrying her heavy case.

“So,” she spoke, her voice husky from her constant sobbing, “how long have you known my uncle?” Though she knew it must have been long enough for him to entrust the lad with a key to his home and his car.

“Nearly three years now, going on for four. We were…” stopping, he wiped his eyes on his sleeve clearly choked up by recent events himself, “well, we were so very close to finishing. Part of me thinks it should be me who writes the ending, ye ken, for his memory. But I dinna even know where to start.”

“Shit.” Cursing, she turned her back on Jamie and held her hand over her mouth. She wanted to scream, to cry, to punch something…mostly she wanted to turn back time and relive all of the times she’d said no to coming up here and turn them into a yes. Just once would have been enough, and she knew it. Just one time, she would have arrived and never left… “I should have been here.”

“He spoke of ye often. Yer in the manuscript, if you want to read it?” Avoiding her self flagellation completely, Jamie placed his hand on her shoulder and offered her an olive branch. Though he couldn’t deny her deprecating words, it wasn’t his place to say what she should or should not have done. He could see the guilt drawn plainly on her face, though he couldn’t see her eyes he knew that they’d be red rimmed and she seemed so incredibly tired that he couldn’t bring himself to add any more blame at her door.

“T-thank you, Jamie. For everything. For clearly being here for him when I wasn’t. I’m sure you were a dear friend.”

Knowing her uncles proclivities - even from a young age - she knew his interest in young men rather than ladies and part of her, in her grief, wondered whether he had become more than just a friend to Lamb. But her instincts told her now was not the time to pry.

“I would really love to read it.”

“We have a few days until the funeral, how about I email you the first draft. It’s open ended, mind, so dinna worry about the sudden stop.”

“Thank you.” She said again, taking his hand, bringing it to her mouth and kissing it softly as she turned to find her way upstairs. Halting at the door she assumed to lead her that way, she turned -removing her glasses as she did so. “I’m so rude, sorry, is there a guest bedroom here? Somewhere I’d be alright staying for a few weeks?”

“Of course! And dinna be daft, ye arena rude at all. Ye’ve just lost someone dear to ye. I’m all over the place too, so I canna imagine how you feel.”

Though she got the distinct feeling that he could.

“Can I ask how long ye intend to stay for Claire? If ye dinna mind?”

Having been a trust fund child living off the money gifted to her from her parents’ death, she’d had no worries in the years after her graduation. The estate had been in the family for hundreds of years, friends of the family the same, and she had finished both her BSc and her Masters in History before going on to complete a few of her own independent research papers whilst living off that inheritance. Oxford, although her home for many years, held little to return to and her heart almost stopped at the realisation as the dread crept along her veins.

“A month, maybe. Once the funeral is done I want to stay and finalise his estate. The lawyers have already been in touch but it might take a while to go through everything that was in his name, notify them and so on. Do you live here, Jamie?” She added her question quietly, as if the asking of it might infer something else.

“Ach, no. I moved in for the last few weeks. I think he kent it was nearing the end and wanted the book finished. He insisted that was the best, so that we could work day and night as we needed. But I have my own place across the city.”

‘I should have been here…’ the statement rattled around in her head once more, the ghost of it returning to haunt her. If she had, things might have been different.

“First on the right as you get to the top of the stairs,” he whispered, seeing her pupils dilate and her lips clench as she lost herself in thought. He could see that she desperately needed some time to herself, to cry and to deliberate on all the things left undone and unsaid between her and Lamb, “it’s got a double bed and an en-suite. He meant for ye to have that room and it’s all been made up for ye.”

Nodding, she held her purse tightly and rushed off up and away from him, leaving her suitcase there. Seeing the room, she let herself in, closed the door and flopped against it - her body feeling boneless as she slumped down and curled herself into a ball, crying as the words of the last song she’d heard on the radio, a Michael Bublè classic to add some irony to the situation, in the kitchen swirled around her crowded mind.

#Anonymous #;Mod MBD #Cry Me A River #Jamie X Claire #Outlander Ficlet

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ladyreapermc · 5 years

Text

Fic: Your racing heart (Julian Mercer x Fem!Reader)

Summary: after fainting, you’re taken to the hospital and Julian is your doctor.

Author’s Notes: It all started when I saw this post and my brain went ‘write this right now!’ Also, I thought Julian deserved a little love since he’s such a great character and canon treated him like crap. Don’t worry baby, I’ve got you! Thank you @caryled for being beta and all around great friend!

Warnings: fluff! Lots and lots of fluff!

You let out a long, annoyed sigh as you watched the big hand of the clock on the wall slowly make its way towards 12. You’ve been in that hospital for two hours and all you wanted was to go home, but your grandma insisted on bringing you there after the little incident this morning.

She said you fainted, but you only remembered feeling dizzy and stumbling on the front steps of her house after a long morning of doing chores under the scalding summer sun. If you did lose consciousness, it wasn’t for more than a few seconds, a minute at most. It wasn’t bad enough to warrant a trip to the hospital, much less getting a specific doctor to come in on his day off just because she didn’t trust anyone else to see you.

You tried to argue, explain that you were fine, that you didn’t need to a doctor, but there was no reasoning with her. No wonder your mother would always say you got your stubborn streak from your father’s side of the family and your grandmother was just proving her point.

After another ten minutes of staring at the wall since you weren’t allowed to use your phone while in the infirmary and your grandmother wasn’t allowed in, the curtain isolating your bed was pulled revealing one of the most gorgeous men you’ve ever seen.

He was tall, with strong broad shoulders, but a slim frame. His hair was dark, curled a little by his nape and framed beautifully his kind brown eyes. When he flashed you a smile as he stepped closer to your bed, you felt butterflies in your belly.

“It’s Y/N, right? Cecily’s granddaughter?” he asked, picking up your chart. “I’m Dr. Julian Mercer.”

“Yes, hi,” you replied, suddenly feeling like there wasn’t enough oxygen in the air around you.

You shifted on the bed, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt, which made you realize you were still wearing the old shorts and oversized t-shirt you had picked for tending to your grandmother garden and lawn. There were dirt and grass stains on your shirt and your hair still sweaty and in a messy ponytail.

Why did you always have the misfortune of meeting cute guys when you were such a mess?

“Nice to meet you.”

“You too.” He settled the chart on the bed and picked a penlight from his whitecoat. “So, you fainted?” Dr. Mercer asked, flashing the light in your eyes.

“Maybe. I don’t think I actually passed out. I just got really dizzy and fell down.”

“Do you know if you hit your head?” He inquired, pocketing the penlight again.

“I caught myself,” you replied, showing the friction burns on your hands and Dr. Mercer winced in sympathy. “It wasn’t that bad. They didn’t have to call you.”

“I don’t mind,” he reassured you. “Cecily’s one of my favorite patients.”

Dr. Mercer smiled at you as he took your wrist, his hand was a little rough and warm against your skin. His touch careful and gentle and your heart sped up. Held held onto your hand for a moment as he checked your pulse, his smile widening a little.

“Your resting heart rate is a little above average, but nothing to worry,” he commented letting go of your hand to pick up the blood pressure monitor.

All you wanted was for the ground to swallow you whole. Not only did he notice how nervous you were, he also knew why.

You avoided his gaze throughout the rest of the exam, replying to his questions monosyllabically, wishing the entire thing to be over so you could die of embarrassment in the safety of your grandmother’s home.

“Y/N, when was the last time you ate?” Dr. Mercer asked and that caught your attention as you thought about it.

The whole reason for you to come to your grandmother’s house this summer was to finish the first draft of your novel. You’ve been working for a publishing house for the last three years and finally got a chance to publish your own stuff, which had been your dream for so long.

So, you packed a bag and headed to the Hamptons to seek some inspiration and to stay with your grandma while your parents traveled Europe for their thirtieth anniversary.

Once you were there, you decided to help out with a few chores around the house: mowing the lawn, repotting some of her flowers, repainting the railing of the front porch…And maybe you skipped breakfast to get an early start and since you had dinner with your grandmother and she was always in bed by nine, the last meal you had must have been around six or seven last night.

“That long, huh?” he commented when you took a little too long to answer. “Give me a sec.”

Dr. Mercer moved away, only to return a few moments later with a wheelchair. He helped you to get on it and wheeled you through the hallways of the hospital until the two of you reached a vending machine.

“Peach or grape?” he asked, pulling out a couple of bills from his wallet.

“Grape,” you replied a little confused until he handed you a purple juice box.

“My favorite too,” he said with a wink that nearly made your heart stop, before grabbing a juice for himself and a package of saltines.

Then, he wheeled you to the hospital garden, parking your chair by a bench. Dr. Mercer took a seat by your side and opened the crackers, offering it to you.

“Low blood sugar and overheating can cause dizzy spells,” he explained. “So, make sure not to skip any meals from now on, ok? Cecily shouldn’t be worrying too much considering her heart.”

“Yeah, I know,” you replied with a sigh, a little ashamed of your behavior.

All of this because you wanted to be done as quickly as possible and return to your book. Not only you gave your grandma quite a scare, you were making Dr. Mercer miss his day off.

“She really shouldn’t have dragged you here for this, Dr. Mercer.”

“Julian,” he corrected with a smile. “Truth is, I was glad for the call. I always feel like I’ve reached a new low whenever I’m watching daytime TV.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his awkward little chuckle. He was handsome and charming. That was an irresistible combination for you.

“That is bad,” you commented. “I’d think a guy like you would have better things to do in his day off.”

“I might’ve been avoiding running into my ex,” he confessed, giving you a sideway glance. “She’s in town with her new husband.”

“Bad breakup?” you asked, sipping your juice. You tried to picture a scenario where anyone would dump a guy like Julian and came up empty.

“No, just…” he sighed and shrugged. “So… Cecily told me you’re a writer?”

“Not officially, but soon. Hopefully,” you replied with a grin. This was the first time anyone called you a writer. In front of you at least. It sounded really good.

“What’s your book about?” Julian asked, turning to face you, resting his elbow on the back of the bench and watching you with soft smile as you babbled about the general idea for your story.

From there the two of you talked some more about favorite books and movies and bands. Julian surprised you by being a fan of both romantic comedies and punk rock, which was a nice contradiction. And he teased you for loving trashy horror movies. It was light, fun and comfortable and both of you lost track of time, too involved on each other.

It wasn’t until one of the orderlies came around looking for you that you realized you and Julian had spent the last half-hour talking, oblivious of your grandma still waiting and other appointments Julian might have.

“I should probably take you back and discharge you,” he said, standing up and maneuvering your chair towards the door. “I bet you’re getting sick of this hospital.”

“I don’t know,” you said, feeling less nervous around him. “It has its perks.”

You smiled at Julian who smiled back as he wheeled you to your bed in the infirmary. He took out his prescription pad and wrote a quick note before handing it to you.

“That’s to avoid another dizzy spell,” He said as you looked over his vitamin suggestions and instructions to eat every three hours.

“And this is for when you need to relax… if you’re interested.” Julian flashed you quick smile as he handed you the second note.

He picked up your chart again and signed your discharge papers.

“Feel better, Y/N,” he said, before walking away.

It wasn’t until you were in the car with your grandma on your way back home that you looked at the second note Julian gave you and grinned at his phone number.

xxx

#something's gotta give #keanu reeves #fanfic #keanu reeves imagine #julian mercer #julian mercer x reader #keanu reeves x reader #julian mercer x you #keanu reeves x you #julian mercer fic #one-shot #prompt fic

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robogreaser · 4 years

Text

This is a Long Time Coming...

It’s been a relatively hard task to sit down and make sense of, well, a lot of things as of late. I could chalk it up to the state of the world, but it’s been troublesome for significantly longer than that.

Long Story Short Version: I’ve been in a hell of a place, mentally, physically, and otherwise.

The proper story is a hell of a lot more involved than that and I know damned right well it’s going to take me a fair bit to explain myself and my various professional and social failings over the past... while. I’m gonna try to contain this under a read more, of course, but I apologize to mobile users if tumblr fucks that up.

Okay. That took a fair more bit of effort to figure out than I remember. Which, I suppose, is a fair enough bit of a segue into one thing that’s happened to me.

Tumblr has been deteriorating.

Whether I like to admit it or not, tumblr has been my go to social media platform since... 2011. Yeah. I’ve spent the vast majority of the decade here. I’ve seen a lot. Sure, I’ve lurked elsewhere, but I really cannot stand the interface and nature of a lot of other social media, especially the likes of twitter. Unfortunately for me, this place has been in constant decline for years now at this point. It extends well beyond the porn ban, but that’s a whole separate discussion.

I’ve lost touch with a lot of people I care about, some vanishing into the ether, some ghosting me, some just drifting into other communities or onto other sites. I’ve come to terms with the majority of this. It’s been happening for a while. It’s the very nature of digital relationships. It hurt, and I do think it’s contributed to a fair bit of stress and depression that has resulted in my... withdrawal from online spaces. It’s not a major factor, but its here, it’s present, it’s a factor in all of this.

I’ll be honest in that, well, I’ve tried to make this post several times over the past several weeks and months. It’s hard. Talking about my issues, using ‘I’ and ‘me’ so much in a post... it’s a bit jarring. But I’ll try to suck it up.

It’s been ten years (god I fucking hate time) since I’ve graduated high school. Yeah. It’s a fair thing to say that, on reflection, that’s incredibly jarring. The vast majority of that time has been... relatively unstable. I spent a fair few years working on my book and my publishing journey, now all but scrubbed clean from this blog (more on that later) and... well... Trying to be an adult. I’ve applied to, gotten accepted, and had to withdrawn from my dream school twice in this time. I’ve had a fair few jobs, nothing worthy of my resume, and lost all of them in one form or another, whether being fired for retaliating to my shitty work conditions, or, well, quitting for the sake of my own health during this pandemic. There has been a lot of family troubles. I’ve been through a lot of... ‘varied’ living situations, some horrendous, some just stressful, some, like now, actually really good compared to the others. And for the past few years in particular, it’s been constantly one thing after another, nonstop.

In short, progress is slow, but it’s happening. I don’t care to delve into a lot of these sorts of personal details lest this get to a ridiculous length, but that’s the short of the stuff I’d rather gloss over.

I’ve been on a health... Let’s call it a journey. I’ve been on a health journey. Over the past few years I’ve gone through the long processes of being diagnosed with ADHD, discussing my options regarding my depression and anxiety, and finally getting myself on a medication regimen that works. And then, because the health care system is a joke, I was without insurance. I had been off my medication, an absolute lifesaver and release of burden on my garbage tier brain, for eighteen months. Until last week. I think it’s fair to say, between my revolving door of living situations, employment, and then being un-medicated in a continually more stressful environment... That this is the main reason I’ve been absent. I’ve had no focus. There were weeks where I had no drive to do anything outside of routine that others depended on. I had not only gone back to how I was before situating my mental health, but in some ways, found a worse state.

Finances have been slowly eating away at me. I had been working a part time retail job until November, which made decent enough money, but not nearly for the amount of work and responsibility I was handling. I got fired. I found work with one of the big, corporate postal services. The pay was phenomenal, but it began to actively destroy my health, mainly physically, but also mentally, especially considering I was working a graveyard shift. Eventually when I began having prolonged health issues there, and then a whole lot of the symptoms of covid-19, on top of them turning me down for an entry-level position outside of the package handling, I had to quit. This was shortly after the lockdowns, in early April, and I refuse to look back despite people like my parents insisting on me trying to get work there again. Sure, the pay was phenomenal compared to anything else I had until then, but I cant continue to sacrifice my health. As of now, I’m unemployed, and... well...

I’m working on my commission queue. It’s art. It’s stuff I’ve owed friends (luckily those who are incredibly understanding and good to me) for an embarrassing amount of time, even before moving to and from Oklahoma at the end of 2016. I’m terrified of being the person who is known for taking commissioners’ money and running.

I know, I’m not good at giving updates. I’m not good at a consistent work schedule. I’ve had numerous tech failings over the past few years that constantly slow my roll on any progress I have made. Hell, I’ve had files corrupt despite being two thirds of the way complete when transferring from one computer to another. I’ve lost my cable for my external hard drive. I’ve had my tablet go to hell and back multiple times. But I am working. I am trying. I am sitting down as often as I can between looking for work and managing family nonsense to try and get my workload tidied up.

Which... brings me to my next point. And one I’m rather... ashamed about.

I have used trello, infrequently, since taking on a large load of commissions, and despite not being faithfully updating it and checking back on it, and using it to it’s fullest potential, I had kept, at the minimum, a list of all the work I did owe people using it. Well. Dumbass me attempted to use a mobile app. In short, in an effort to try and make myself tech literate and allow me easier access to my queue, I ended up deleting it. Somehow.

I’ve gone through and slowly flagged all my paypal notices and various emails concerning my commissions. I’m putting it together again. I’m trying. Granted, I am damned sure I am going to be missing someone, somewhere, somehow. I know it. I’ve got a shit brain, and despite my need for organization and minimalism, I don’t put it past me to have missed something along the way.

If you have commissioned me, please, do not hesitate to reach out and contact me regarding your commission. I owe every last one of you a massive apology for my continued failure to produce what you have paid for.

More likely than not, I have a wip already started somewhere, and if not, I have a slew of reference and thumbnails already compiled together somewhere on my computers. I am not ignoring this work. It’s been painfully, embarrassingly slow. It’s been one obstacle after another. But I have every intention of doing this work, and, likely, upgrading the quality of the finished piece past what my commissioners have paid for simply because I do feel bad about the wait time.

I have been inexcusably unprofessional. I know this and I am working as best I can with the time and resources I have to correct it.

In a similar vein, as I mentioned before, I have slowly been cleaning up my rather unimpressive publishing attempts. I’ve gone through and cleaned this blog recently, deleting reference to my work by name and the process of trying to get myself published. I may have missed a few posts here and there, but for the most part I would like a clean slate in regards to building a social media platform surrounding my written work. And this is the part where... I am probably going to be the most upfront and honest with you reading this than I have been publicly before.

I am not ashamed of who I’ve been online these past ten years or so, but it reflects only a sliver of my personality, a sliver of who I am as a whole. I catered to a very specific subset of who I am in pursuit of finding acceptance in communities much larger than myself. I’ve learned a hell of a lot about myself in that time. I figured out what’s important to me, my health, my sexuality, my relationships and my long term goals. I’ve found a very important group of friends. I’ve found people who understand and empathize with a lot of the things I have been through, experience, and am at my core.

But the fact of the matter is, this hypersexual, sci-fi aesthetic-oriented, very open person is only a singular facet. And it is not nearly enough of a reflection of who I am, or who I want to be as a professional, public adult. Will I always be gay for robots? Yes. Will I, when time permits and creative energies are present, continue to make nsfw art? Absolutely. Will I always have a toe dipped in erotic literature and the like? Most likely.

But a lot of me, a lot of my emotion and strife and feelings regarding most things in the world, are completely separate from this. It’s separate from me liking porn on twitter or having a homestuck roleplay blog. It’s separate from who I am in real life, with my boyfriend or with my family or with my work. And I have been dwelling on this, sincerely, for a while. I need to allocate more energy into my life. The separate life offline and online too, where I am pursuing an actual professional career, because, at the end of the day, I want to be an author. I want to have a career telling stories. And, in my time online, I’ve found a lot of skeletons in authors’ closets, the kind that really put mine to shame, and the kind that will always be a footnote to their work. You know the ones.

I want my creative work to speak for itself. I want people to be able to enjoy what I do without a specter, without my time and energy having to explain to a future audience why it is I had explicit thoughts about x,y, and z. I want to be able to write a book, write many books, and have people enjoy them without a footnote about me, a person with a sexual life and a history exploring it through years of depression and isolation, clouding it. It’s not fair to my work. It’s not fair to a future reader. It’s not fair to me.

I’ve got several social media accounts made and slowly coming to life that I need to spend more time with as I try and pursue this new, second leg of a very long journey into publishing. I’m not going to link those here, now or in the future. It’s likely a few people I know and trust have access to them. But I am, effectively starting over from scratch trying to build a platform as a writer. And it’s hard. Juggling that, alongside all of the things in the world today, alongside family and my relationships, alongside my commission queue? It bears down on me and if I didn’t have experience handling more than one thing at a time, I might trip up more frequently. Hell, I forget to post and use those new accounts regularly.

But I’m trying.

I’m not moving away from my current social circles or hobbies or anything like that. I’m not abandoning any fandom or friends or communities. But I am going to be trying to balance myself more thoughtfully moving forward, past just commissions, past just writing.

I’m here. I’m moving forward, slowly but surely, and I am making an effort to improve.

#jesus christ mike shut up

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kathleen-meyer-lyme-survivor · 4 years

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DISCLAIMER: I have signed a waiver and become a contributor to an upcoming book by a fellow, healed Lyme patient. Some or all of this story may be published in the coming months. I have added and updated some of this information 9.12.2020, so hopefully I will not violate any copyright laws.

NOTE: Do not assume everything I write here or on my Facebook Lyme page will help. Everyone heals differently. Working with a knowledgeable, sincere doctor and finding the right combination of medication, herbs, personal lifestyle and diet changes will help. One size doesn’t fit all for Lyme disease treatments. Don’t be afraid to research and consult with your doctor. Get a notebook and write down EVERYTHING; diet, exercise, symptoms, dates, times, and ANY physical or emotional stress-causing events. Stress seems to be the biggest culprit of all diseases. Hypocrites stated, “All disease begins in the gut”. HE WAS RIGHT!!

NAME: Kathleen Meyer

I live in Northern VA. I am a retired, 60+ year old Grandmother. I am widowed, and I was living alone when Lyme hit. Symptoms began between September 12-14, 2012.

BACKSTORY: September 12, 2012. I felt something prick my lower back. When I reached around to check, the area was very hot to touch. This was in my car in Reston, Virginia, on a 90+ degree day. I had left the car windows open slightly during the work day.

The previous two weeks, I had been on vacation to the Pacific Northwest, to visit my Sister. While there, I visited a national park, which is highly populated by deer and other furry animals; large and small. There was hiking and a few photo ops while sitting on a rock wall. Deer roam around freely in the town where my Sister lives.

After going to my family doctor almost daily between 9/14-10/12 to complain of strange symptoms, I was finally tested for Lyme, West Nile virus and Rocky Mountain Spotted fever. My doctor was skeptical at first, but I kept insisting the symptoms weren’t normal for any flu I had ever had. When I mentioned living by woods and recently spending time in a national park, I was taken more seriously.

I was diagnosed with Lyme on October 12,2012, (clinically by relating symptoms) and blood work. Side note: Because I had Mono at age 18, I was also diagnosed with Mono “exposed”. I was instructed to go home, stay on bedrest and get clearance from an infectious disease doctor, before returning to work. I was on sick leave and coworker’s leave donations between 10/15-11/13/2012. I was also instructed NOT to work or look at work email while out sick; which I now understand completely. The philosophy seems to be, “Being out on sick leave means you’re too sick to be at work, so don’t try to do any work at home”. Never mind that after two weeks of bedrest, going stir crazy and wanting to do something, is very normal.

TREATMENTS: I was immediately placed on Doxycycline 200 mg, by the family doctor, for 20 days. That didn’t work. Then Doxycycline 200 mg for 10 days. When that didn’t work, there was 30 days additional. When I ran out, I waited between prescriptions about a week or two, to see if symptoms would come back. Symptoms kept coming back. I was on/off Doxycycline for a total of 60 days. My insurance company wouldn’t authorize more than 60 days, so I was given Cefuroxime 500 mg for 30 days.

NOTE: At the beginning of the Cefuroxime prescription I doubled the dose for the first 4 days, just to see what would happen. I realize that wasn’t a very smart thing to do, but I wanted to kill what was making me so sick. After the 4 days, I used the prescription correctly. At the end of the 30 days, no symptoms returned.

NOTE: I always eat yogurt in between any oral antibiotic dose. The reason is because all antibiotics kill all bacteria, including the beneficial bacteria we need in our gut, where the main part of the immune system is located. The other part of the immune system is our brain. The brain and gut communicate with each other UNLESS we have an illness like Lyme. The brain is affected and doesn't communicate correctly with the gut during Lyme, and probably during other autoimmune illnesses.

MYSTERIOUS SYMPTOMS BEFORE TREATMENT: High blood pressure, cardiomegaly, chronic bronchitis, prolapsed mitre heart valve, GERD, Barretts esophagus, large hiatal hernia. Other symptoms; short term memory issues, difficulty with vision, floaters, reading, sensitive to bright light and sunshine. Difficulty walking, bumping into walls, problems with grip and dropping things. Insomnia, sometimes several nights in a row. Constant buzzing, tingling, pain throughout my entire body. Chest pain, head and neck pain, difficulty with bowels, difficulty swallowing and anxiety from feeling so ill for no known reason, except Lyme. I was able to swallow correctly again, after an endoscopy and scraping of webbed growth (non-cancerous).

WHAT THE WORLD NEEDS TO KNOW: ALL doctors, nurses including E.R. personnel need to be made aware of how many hundreds of symptoms Lyme can have. It is known to mimic at least 400 other illnesses and syndromes. Millions of people worldwide are being mis-diagnosed or given catch-all diagnosis out of frustration. Doctors have about 15 minutes per patient and don’t have time to research and address everyone’s symptoms. More research is needed and the patient’s symptoms need to be taken more seriously. The phrase “The customer is always right”, needs to apply to patients as well. Haphazard treatment of symptoms and covering up symptoms DOESN’T WORK FOR LYME!!

NOTE: Most medical schools are funded by big pharma. They do not provide enough education to upcoming doctors about Lyme and similar illnesses. They don’t stress enough on nutrition or healthy eating as a benefit to patients. I have asked my doctors and chiropractor about this, and they said the same thing.

Do NOT listen to any doctor who tells you your child has “Growing Pains”. Find a doctor who is knowledgeable about Lyme, preferably a young doctor with a growing family of his/her own. My family doctor diagnosed and treated me correctly, was THAT doctor, not a specialist, a general practitioner.

HOW HAS LYME CHANGED MY LIFE; GOOD AND BAD: Lyme caused me to be bedridden for over 3 weeks, afraid to drive for fear of getting lost, and feeling like I had early onset Alzheimer’s. I now feel that it was an eye-opening experience, which awakened me to how poorly I had been managing my diet and exercise on a daily basis. I also believe the 2012 influenza shot might have been flawed, because I never felt healthy after that, and it possibly weakened my immune system so Lyme and Mono could sneak in.

I went from quick and easy meals and very little exercise to self-improvement. I learned from the Lyme pages on Facebook from reading other people’s stories. It was almost like putting a really large jigsaw puzzle together, very slowly and not having all the pieces in front of me.

SOMETHING I DO NOW THAT I NEVER DID BEFORE LYME: I now pay closer attention to my physical and emotional health, what foods I eat and the amount of daily exercise I get. I also developed pre-diabetes type 2 during the Lyme period. I am now eating real food and watching my weight in order to keep the pre-diabetes under control, without medication.

NOTE: Doctor’s won’t tell you unless you press them, that medication for everything is NOT the best way to control anything, because you’re stuck on the medication for the rest of your life. Our bodies are capable of healing, with help by US.

THE MOST FRUSTRATING PART OF LYME DISEASE: I would have to say, lack of compassion for what patients are going through on the part of medical professionals, insurance companies, news media, and the general public. “Take these pills and you’ll feel better”. This doesn’t work with Lyme disease; trust me. However, I know many people who believe everything their doctor says and I hear, “My doctor says it’s__________. More research is needed and the actual CAUSE should be researched and treated instead of pills to cover up underlying symptoms.

MY BIGGEST SUPPORTER(S): I have a private Facebook page called “Where is Lyme Disease”, which has 249 members. I consider all of them to be my supporters; we support each other. I have been posting there since March, 2015, before any of us realized Lyme is EVERYWHERE!! I HAVE POSTED HOW I TREATED, HEALED AND WHAT I AM DOING NOW TO STAY HEALTHY. Those answers were not readily found using an internet search in 2012. Everything I post on the page is from what I went through. I am trying to help others with Lyme get through it and not give up.

I give all credit to healing to authors of books about Lyme struggles. There are too many to mention, but “Cure Unknown” by Pamela Weintraub was the best one. I read it several times, because the first time I tried to read, the words ran together and blurred because of Lyme. I am now able to read again, and have re-read several books I couldn’t comprehend before. If there’s a diagnosis of ADD or ADHD, suspect Lyme!!

BIGGEST DAILY STRUGGLE: Praying it never comes back and thanking God for every day which I am granted. Experimenting with different diet plans and keeping healthy. Getting away from white sugar, white flour and other overly processed, easy to fix foods and getting real food into my body is a daily challenge.

Continuing to learn about and helping others deal with Lyme. I have helped quite a few people NOT give up. I wish I could help everyone or was a millionaire so I could donate money for a cure.

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