#c: julie van acker | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

starlingsrps · 4 hours ago

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no peace that i’ve found so far.

julie wakes up crying at the same time mama wakes up coughing. anneliese, who sleeps like this dead and snores like a drunk, remains fast asleep next to her.

she pushes her face into the pillow and tries to stop them by sheer force of will. she’s come to find over the last few weeks that her tears are like a leaky pipe - slow at first and then all at once when it bursts. it makes her feel weak and foolish. she had been dry eyed as the british left, calm through the shelling and then the sight of a stray cat made her burst into tears thinking of miette. she hadn’t been able to stop since.

it had been a dream tonight, one of the long and meandering ones that seem to plague her. she and ari, trying to find miette and coming up empty. eventually, his footsteps had faded and then he had disappeared too.

“julie?”

she lifts her head from the pillow at her mother’s voice. they sleep in one room now. julie and anneliese had dragged their mattresses into their mother’s room when they had emerged from the cellar three weeks ago. it feels safer this way but she’s still thinking about digging up joseph’s pistol from the war to keep at hand just in case. none of them have ever shot it and she isn’t sure if any of them even could if they had to but it might make her feel better to have it near. anneliese is whiny and bored with being confined to the house and back garden but she’s young and lacks self preservation - it’s for the best.

julie has taken over the managing of it all. she got their ration cards and made anneliese help her bury the silver and jewelry under the cellar floor. she had put her engagement ring in the velvet bag at the last minute and regretted it ever since. she misses the weight of it on her finger, how rubbing the setting always made her feel settled. mama is out of cough syrup and though she keeps saying that she’ll be fine, julie knows that she’ll have to work something out, though the pharmacist had fled when the british did. she’s had just about all she can handle and knows it will only get worse.

“it’s nothing, mama,” she says, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. “go back to sleep.”

she wheezes again and flips back the corner of her quilt to pat the mattress. julie almost protests that she’s too old for it and she needs the rest but the part of her that’s screaming for some comfort leaves her spot on the floor to climb in next to her mother. her earliest memories are this, burrowed against her mother on sleepless nights. they had spent the first few years of her life sleeping on couches or spare beds of family members until joseph had come along. he saved them both in his own quiet way and julie wishes he hadn’t died every single day. joseph would know what to do.

she’s much bigger now and her mother somehow much smaller but julie still curls herself under her arm. mama smells the same as ever, like violet dusting powder and church incense, though she can’t have been to mass in months. “what’s wrong?” she asks after a few minutes when julie has settled.

“a little homesick,” she admits, letting her mother’s fingers on her back soothe her.

mama hums, a tone that says she knows julie is barely scraping the surface. “have you had word from ari?”

julie stiffens. it’s been weeks since she had a letter from him and she has no way of knowing if hers have even left leuven. the news is unreliable and nothing coming from france makes her feel any better. lyon is under fire and she has to console herself with feeling as though she would know if anything happened to him. “no, but i imagine the post is…not a priority right now.”

mama kisses her on top of the head. “he’ll be alright,” she murmurs. “he’s clever enough to stay safe.”

julie mumbles in agreement because she’s afraid that she’ll start crying again if she talks.

“he’s very like your father,” she says sleepily.

julie knits her brow. there are no similarities between ari and joseph van acker that she can think of beyond that they’re both men who speak french. god rest him but she’d seen her stepfather tuck a sweater into his belt far too many times. “joseph?”

mama snorts, as though she’s thinking the same thing. “no, your father.” her intonation changes and julie knows who she means now. “max. he used to write me poems.”

“you said he could take you for a coffee when he learned to spell transcendent,” julie says, completing the story. she’s heard it a million times and would be content to hear it a million more. she had been a baby when max was killed and all knows from the photos is that she has his fair hair and mouth and from the stories that he was dashing and kind and loved beautiful things the way she does. she has no memories of her own and borrows her mother’s. she would have liked to have him as a father, she thinks, but joseph had been more than enough.

she laughs softly but warmly at the thirty year old memory. “and so he did or you would not be here. your ari seems to know how to spell.”

“he’s a very good speller. not much of a poet.”

“and you miss him.”

julie nods, too tired to soften it. she misses him with every fiber of her being, from the way he reaches for her in his sleep to how he talks to miette when she meows at him. her body misses his, like there are hollows where his hand belongs. she misses tracking down where he left his glasses and how he takes care of her as she takes care of him. the ache of longing weighs her down.

mama sighs again. no wheeze, which julie takes as a good sign. “i should have sent you home.”

“hush, this is home. you need me.”

“i think you know where home is, love.”

#s: julie x ari #but mostly just #c: julie van acker #verse: at the end of the world #type: writing

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bdscuatui · 5 years ago

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starlingsrps · 2 months ago

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juliana “julie” van acker/code name jeanne, thirty, forger

julie was still an infant and unaware of anything when the great war started. her father was killed in the sacking of the city, trying to defend the bookshop he owned and she’s never asked her mother about what happened to her during the sacking and occupation. her aunts always just said that mathilde has been delicate ever since and julie doesn’t need to know more details than that. they survived the war on the kindness of friends and family, barely limping to armistice like the rest of belgium. even as a small child, julie’s moods were in tune with her mother’s - up when mathilde was up, curled under her chin when she was down. they were all the other had for a long time and though julie was able to untangle her moods from mathilde's over time, there's nothing she wouldn't do for her mother.

things improved, slowly but surely. mathilde married again when julie was seven, to a polite dentist named joseph who treated them both kindly. julie learned that her mother could laugh and it didn’t take long before she was calling joseph her father. through this marriage, julie has a younger sister, anneliese (12-18). the van ackers (julie took joseph’s last name when he married her mother) lived comfortably and quietly in the leuven suburbs. they had a series of cats and a garden and julie was top of her class. when she showed a talent for painting and drawing, she had lessons as long as she kept up with school. she was no great artist but was decent enough to study art at university in brussels.

after graduation, julie moved to lyon to work at the museum of fine arts as an assistant curator. it wasn’t glamorous by any means and most of her first year was spent getting the curator she was assigned to coffee, learning that right now meant ten minutes ago, and that if she ever wanted credit for anything, she was going to need to speak up. she was desperately homesick for the first year and once a week phone calls weren't enough. frankly, she was considering moving back home when she met ari.

she remembers it all perfectly - that it was an exhibition of eighteenth century portraits where she had done a majority of the curating while her boss took the credit, that they left early to talk, and she was home so late that her cat, miette, chewed her out like a furious parent. he’s been the love of her life ever since. over time, they moved into a house together and miette adjusted. he wrote while she continued to work at the musem, finally moving to a department where she finally started getting some credit for her work. it felt as easy and natural as breathing to be with him and to be building a life and future together.

then of course, because there’s no such thing as good timing: the war.

joseph died of a fast moving stomach cancer in january of 1940. julie’s plan was to go home for two weeks for the funeral and to get her family organized to come back to lyon. the worst seemed inevitable but if she could get them to lyon, they could at least get through the inevitable together. mathilde, never sturdy, had a difficult time processing the death of her husband and the stress of the war. julie’s two weeks away became two months and then it was suddenly spring and too late to leave. leuven fell in may, the van ackers hunkered down in the cellar until the shelling ended. without being asked and without questioning it, julie took over the managing of the family. she got the ration cards and enlisted anneliese in burying the good silver and her engagement ring in the cellar floor. she made the friends she had to to make sure her mother had the medicine she needed for her nerves and then for the cough she couldn’t seem to shake.

with these new friends, julie turned her skill at restoration and minute detail into assisting with forging prescriptions for the black market. it got them what they needed and that was reason enough. the irony of her chastising anneliese to keep quiet and not draw attention while she worked on her forgeries late at night didn’t escape her.

it was almost enough to keep her mind off of ari but also absolutely wasn’t. there had to be a way to get back to lyon. there had to be a pass or identification she was missing but the simple truth was that as long as her mother was sick and she had anneliese to worry about, she wasn’t going anywhere. it took months for the mail to resume, through an enterprising neighbor named mrs. clewes who is almost certainly in the resistance but will never tell, and as soon as ari’s letters started coming again, she was thrown a lifeline.

shortly before christmas in 1940, mathilde’s cough turned into pneumonia and she slipped away on new year’s day. julie was angry afterwards in a way that she didn’t usually allow herself to be. there was no way to not feel like she had lost everything that she loved or that had made her happy. she kicked the garbage can about it a few times, buried her mother the best as she could, and dragged herself onward.

with anneliese to support, julie let her contacts on the underground market know that she was open to take on more forgeries. one thing led to another and she was soon making identification for downed airmen being escorted to spain and any other little thing the cell may need. having friends in wartime is foolish but camille, her contact in the escape line, is the closest thing she’s had to one in years and they don’t even know each other’s real names. for the resistance, she’s jeanne and if she stops for one second to think about the kind of danger she’s put herself and anneliese in, she’ll fall apart so she simply doesn’t.

julie has always been an optimistic, sunny side of life person but even she admits that she’s starting to run on fumes. she worries all the time - about keeping anneliese safe, about ari between letters, if she's doing the right thing. she misses her life and she’s tired, pure and simple. if she could curl up and wait for it to be over, she would.

however, she’s incapable of quitting on anything. julie is a kind, caring soul but she is stubborn. she doesn’t wait to be asked to offer assistance, she just does. in addition to anneliese and those she works with in the resistance, julie also has a mental list of neighbors she checks in on regularly. she’s a big believer in doing all the good she’s capable of doing for as long as she can so she just will.

#c: julie van acker #verse: at the end of the world

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bdscuatui · 5 years ago

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