#i also wrote this paper on april 2nd

[outfoxt]

Another Käärijä Research Project

aka: käärijä style-shifting project

as a preface, here are my (non) qualifications for this project and the circumstances under which it happened:

I am a linguistics student, and this past semester I took a course on sociolinguistics. the goal of this project was to become familiar with the concept of and analyze style-shifting (it's more commonly known as code-switching online but theres a difference and this is style-shifting), specifically by analyzing the speech of one person. We had the option to study oprah or to have someone else approved by my prof, so you know I had to ask my prof if I could study jere. This project is solely my intellectual property; even though I had a tutor help me a lot, everything written in this paper and on this post was my work alone.

now, on to the actual findings! the full paper and transcripts will be linked at the end :D

the actual variables (words or sounds) that I studied were the pronunciation of r, and use of the word "the".

to make things a lot easier from the get-go, i'm going to introduce you all to one of my favorite websites, ipachart.com (the international phonetic alphabet [ipa] chart is a big chart with an entry for every sound that exists in a language. this handy dandy website has an audio recording for each one of those sounds).

go to this website, and then scroll down to the table. go to the column labeled "post alveolar" and then click on ɾ and ɹ. those are the sounds i studied in this paper! ɾ is the finnish r and ɹ is the american r :)

so basically what i did to find instances of my variable was i just looked up a bunch of esc interviews and listened out for use of the different r sounds. i also transcribed the entire dinner date live because i love torture apparently :) the specific interviews and lives/stories are in the bibliography of the paper :p

after i transcribed all the interviews and lives/stories i went through and highlighted every instance of the r sound. then i calculated the ratios of ɾ to ɹ based on the context they were spoken in. the two contexts i looked for were formal contexts (sit-down interviews) and informal contexts (literally anything else).

i found that jere uses ɹ WAY more often in formal contexts than he does in informal contexts, and the same in reverse with ɾ.

i then went back to the transcripts and looked for all instances of the word "the". i also looked for instances where i thought it should be present, but was omitted. i calculated the ratio of present vs omitted "the"s in formal vs informal contexts and made some charts.

the graph with the smaller black section is "use of 'the' in formal settings" and the one with the smaller green section is "use of 'the' in informal settings" (the images are transparent, sorry)

i found that jere uses "the" WAY more often when in formal settings! there were also some instances where he added a "the" where it was unnecessary, which is studied at length in this wonderful paper by @alien-girl-21

something i also noticed that i elected not to study because this paper took enough energy on its own was that in formal contexts, whenever the "or" sound came in the middle or at the end of a word, jere wouldn't pronounce the r. it stuck out to me mostly because i heard words like "performance" turning into "perfomance", which i thought was an interesting quirk.

unfortunately i was somewhat limited by both my brainpower and capacity to do more work on this paper in the relatively short timeframe i was given (2 weeks) and the fact that i was given a 5 page MAX for this paper (not including a bibliography). i had a lot of fun doing this though and am definitely planning on studying jere for for academic credit again in the future if given the chance!

also i would like it to be known that i spent an hour searching for that 5 second clip of the urheilucast where jere said that he used to sell kitchens and understands english better than he can speak it.

link to a google drive folder with the actual paper i wrote and the transcripts of the interviews with notation:

please feel free to send me asks and dms with questions or comments about this paper! i absolutely love rambling about linguistics :3!!

[longeyelashedtragedy]

oooo... deeply curious about 'she may not remember me (but I remember her)'

so much to say about this!!!! this fic is my greatest point of sadness because...i wrote the first chapter and think it's fabulous, though have never been courageous enough to post it here for some reason, and wrote part of a later chapter and i also think it's fabulous. i posted it here! however, i also set up a structure that's difficult (for me) to work with and i am completely stuck because what i had planned was sort of too exhausting. now i'm just waiting for like, divine inspiration to strike. i stayed up till like 7am writing this when inspiration struck (oh...the things you do in late march early april) so clearly when i figure out what to do with it, words will flow out like endless rain into a paper cup, but i just...have not in any way been able to figure out what to do.

this fic is a franko, jamie, louise, christine fic set in summer 2010, mostly narrated by louise but with some franko POV parts as well. louise is very unhappy in her marriage at this point, while in contrast, this is christine and frank's first summer together as a couple. they go to a weird house on a private island empty but for the 4 of them, and there's awkward tension. also 3/4ths of the folks on this island are secretly gay. on their 2nd day, Something Happens to shift, well, either the reality, or frank and louise's perception of reality, and the ladies wind up trapped outside the house while the men are trapped inside, and on each day, their reality and memories become more shattered as they sink into weird debauchery and isolation. at the end--what is the truth? what really happened? will we ever know?

this was inspired by many things but largely by the idea that this curse hangs over the lampardfamily, infecting everyone in its wake, and also what happens when someone new joins in--how are they affected? you can see influences of "dumb kids in their forties" and "enable camera 4" (regrettably) in it.

i also wrote most of the epilogue and it went pretty hard :( i wish i could figure out how to continue!

the title is just me being a huge phantom of the opera gay and being a little too delighted about the fact that i can perfectly deploy a phantom lyric here-

"can it be? can it be christine? (bravo!) long ago, it seems so long ago, how young and innocent we were, she may not remember me--but i remember her"

it's PERFECT considering"remembering" is the central theme of this--what do they and don't they remember, and what is even real? i think it also ties in well with the final line of the epilogue.

sorry for the like 99 theses i just nailed to the door here. thank you for your ask!

[suekreandtheidiots]

Yes, I drew a mid-2000s teenager line up, featuring some of Hallie and Lance's dearest peers. No, I don't regret a single thing. 😂

***

I know I posted some short descriptions before but II brushed them up a little and want to have them all in one place, so here we go!

From left to right:

Mark McGrath (*February 7th 1987, in London/England, 5'8 ft) had to repeat 8th grade and somehow started hanging out with the cool kids of the year. Went to a fancy English boarding school as a kid... and somehow ended up at a random public school in Scotland as a pre-teen. No one ever found out what made him into the person he was... and no one really dared to just ask him either. A certain mystery surrounded Mark, which was fairly entertaining all by itself. Mark was a cool, calm and collected fella, easygoing and pleasant to be around, never as loud and obnoxious as some others but well, how do they say? Still waters run deep. And dirty. Mark was the one to ask for "special favours", such as getting weed/speed/acid/whatnot. Mark knew everyone and everything. Mark was the guy one would call if they had to get rid of a body. Mark never judged. Mark just did what had to be done. (Liked Hallie a lot, in a very innocent and friendly way, and even though the two never got to know each other on a deeper level, they always got along well and were able to communicate very naturally.)

Calum Hamish Fitzgibbons (*November 6th 1987, in Aberdeen/Scotland, 6'7 ft) was a nice kid, actually. A teenager of his time, with the appropriate brush of occasional overconfidence, because he had the looks and the wit. A lot of his peers looked up to him... quite literally, because, at seventeen, Cal was already 6'7 ft tall. Cal wasn't bad, he was just spoiled. His parents were pretty wealthy and he was used to getting whatever he wanted, without asking or having to put in any effort. That being said, when he was pining for Hallie, he kinda just expected that she would see the light one day, but he never dared to make an actual move to try and win her over. Partly because he didn't see the necessity, and also because romantic feelings for a friend are an awkward thing sometimes. When Hallie didn't just fall for him like he had hoped, and even picked his best friend over him during his absence, he was raging for several reasons. Being a bad person isn't one of them... but a male (teenage) ego is often a fragile one.

Hallie Henderson (*April 2nd 1988 in Aberdeen/Scotland, 5'7 ft) has loved writing all kinds of things ever since she was a wee lass... and being at school only fuelled that particular love! She was a very sweet and clever girl, with interest in pretty much anything, but most of all music, world affairs and also pop and rock culture, as well as clothes and boys (oooh!). Hallie decided to relaunch the school paper (with fellow writing enthusiast Lucy Dunn and the help of a few older students) at the tender age of thirteen, and had a carefully curated (and actually quite popular) web blog ("Hendersonic!") as well, in which she wrote about all the subjects and things that moved her. Hallie grew up with Type 1 diabetes, which always had the potential to put a damper on her generally happy attitude, and she was also afraid of being perceived as "plain" and "boring", and once it became cool to be "not like other girls", Hallie decided to jump right into that and became a bit of a Pick-Me, but she never lost her heart of gold (even though she tried to cover that up with the occasional *edgyness*). Cultural trends come and go, but being kind-hearted is always in style after all!

Lancelot Malcolm "Lance" Abbott (*July 27th 1988 in Aberdeen/Scotland, 5'3 ft) was an incredibly smart and headstrong prodigy; bold, clever, persistent and outspoken. It always seemed like there was nothing that Lance Abbott couldn't do... which was true, in a way, but also got to his head, unfortunately. Lance may have been kind at heart, but that wasn't exactly the part of his personality that he decided to flaunt - Lance was arrogant, on the brink of being very insensitive and plain rude at times. Despite his short and slight build, he had a very striking and intimidating presence; even people older than him preferred to not get into discussions and arguments with the little Abbott. Aside from his academic pursuit, Lance was also very musically gifted. He has played drums from an early age on, taught by his legendary dad, Craig, and had a great understanding for music in general.

Diana "Di" Ballantyne (*December 5th 1987, in Aberdeen/Scotland, 5'6 ft) was a stunning and headstrong Femme Fatale in training, with a passion for make up and clothes, and a strong disdain for Hallie and Lucy... and anyone else she deemed weird and/or boring. There was no rhyme and reason to what and whom Diana deemed boring, though, she just wanted to vibe and refused to put up with people and things she had no desire to put up with. Used to date Lance for a few months until she realised that the wee Abbott is just as much as a pain in the arse as she is, and broke up with him when things became too much of a hassle. (Met Lance again while he was in med school, and both hooked up every now and then over the years, despite not actually being into each other. Honestly, don't ask. 🤣)

It's hard to sum up Lowell "Fozzy" Foster (* September 17th 1987, in Inverness/Scotland, 6'5 ft) in just a few sentences... he was an experience. Not at all a bad kid either, but, uhm... well, let's just say that Fozzy's loyalty and integrity had limits, namely any time he sensed that there could be something in for him, when there was a lass he liked involved, or when doing the right thing was simply too much of a hassle. Aside from all this, Fozzy was a music freak, too, which is what always brought him and Lance back together, despite their various quarrels. Fozzy came from a very musically gifted family - he is the son of Andrew Foster, a well-known concert pianist, and Fionnula Graham-Foster, an opera singer. Being taught by his dad from an early age on, Fozzy was an outstanding piano player himself but he never bragged about that and rather half-arsed his way into playing other instruments instead, so he'd appear cooler to his peers. Fozzy was fun company, up for anything and an entertaining fella all around, for sure... it was just better to watch one's back when getting involved with him.

Lucille "Lucy" Dunn (* February 21st 1988) relaunched the school paper together with Hallie (and a few others) when both were thirteen and she became one of Hallie's closest friends over the years. Lucy was sweet in nature, but also quite blunt and never really cared about what others thought of her. She often spoke out what the sensitive Hallie didn't dare to say. She was also a childhood friend of Fozzy and secretly liked him a lot more than she ever cared to admit. Lucy was pretty badass overall and a true friend to anyone who managed to gain her trust, and she would not take crap from anyone, not even her teachers. When she punched a fellow student in the face after he groped her, and she was about to get detention, Lucy made it very clear to the headmaster what she thought of that - she threatened to take the incident to the paper and the police... and managed to get away with a warning. She still wrote about sexual harrassment in the school paper and dropped names, which was a scandal all on its own, but that's a different story. That being said, it was better not to mess with the young Miss Dunn - no matter what, she would strike back.

Timothy "Tim" Irvine (*March 3rd 1988) was the good soul of the gang. Outspoken and eloquent and not at all shy to voice his opinions, but where others of the same age just blurted out with whatever came to their minds at the moment, Tim actually thought about what he said. He was true friend material, always eager to understand both sides in an argument and staying respectful, even when he was mad or didn't agree with something. Tim didn't love what Lance started something with Hallie while knowing that his friend had been into her for an eternity, while they were away on vacation, but he was very willing to cut his friend some slack because he also saw what he had gone through. He was definitely not okay with the way Cal, Fozzy and Mark wanted to pay Lance back and eventually had a fall out with them as well. Tim was the last person of the former gang that Lance sent a text message to ("I'm alright, thanks. Take care, mate!"), after the blow up, and before they all went their separate ways in late Summer 2006.

***

Some closes ups, the lineart and the sketch:

[jessicur]

Rashid Khalid's The Hundred Years' War on Palestine Notable Sources

Upon gathering sources from Rashid Khalidi’s “The Hundred Years’ War on Palestine”, and connecting their significance to the chapter, I realized that Palestine was doomed from the start. No matter how many pledges or promises that were made to preserve the Palestine culture and land, it never really followed through. The chapter made an amazing point toward the Alexandria Protocol, in which five Arab countries gathered and “stressed the importance of the cause of Arabs of Palestine,” and regretted what the Jews of Europe inflicted on the country (62). They stated this under the section “Special Resolution Concerning Palestine”, which at the time these five countries were not fully independent of their “previous colonial masters” (62). How could they have pledged for the preservation of Palestine when they themselves are not free of destruction from colonialism? They work so hard on supporting each other as a whole, that they cannot stand as an individual country.  

This brings on another piece of evidence from the book. Yusif Sayigh, a Palestinian politician, wrote in his excerpts of how ill-fated the Arab High Committee had been once its leaders had been sent to prison or exiled. Sayigh quoted that “the Arab Higher Committee realized it didn’t have the intellectual skills among its members. Indeed it had no structure at all” (65). The committee had been disbanded by the British a year after being formed. It was also the British’ doing that chased the leaders into jail and out of the country. If its leaders had taught other members such intellectual skills, then maybe there would still be hope that the AHC would come back again. Like all concepts, they don’t die. This is especially true when Palestine was first brought up as a country to house Jewish people. 

Like the Alexandria Protocol, we have President Roosevelt’s letter confirming pledges to place the American Government as a respectable country toward Palestine. The letter was made for King Ibn Saud, in which Roosevelt confirms the continuing interest and concern toward Palestine and Arabs (70). However, President Roosevelt did not account for his successor, Harry Truman, to disregard such promises, and the King knew this. He knew, yet him and his six sons who succeeded him did not speak out against it as Saudi Arabia heavily depended on the United States for its economy and military. The message that good things never last have a consistency in Palestine’s history.  

To top it off, Palestinians were furious about the lack of assertiveness the Arab countries and its leaders had toward the mistreatment from Britain, as they continued to be “the primary enabler of Zionism” (81). The Palestinians saw failure and fault within the Arab states. This anger created a sort of opportunity for artists and poets to express their feelings. Khalid included a poem about Arab rulers from Palestinian poet ‘Isa al-’Isa, which read: 

Oh little kings of Arabs, by the grace of God 

Enough feebleness and infighting 

Once upon a time our hopes were on you 

But all our hopes were dashed. 

The term “little kings” refer the height of the Arab kings. Along with the mention of weak stances in political activities and false hope, it brings about how deeply they have failed Palestine and its people.  

Resources 

13. “The Alexandria Protocol,” October 7, 1944, Department of State Bulletin, XVI, 411, May 1947, http://avalon.law.yale.edu/20th_century/alex.asp. 

23. Sayigh, “Desperately Nationalist,” 69–70. 

33. For Roosevelt’s letter confirming these pledges, dated April 5, 1945, see United States Department of State, Foreign Relations of the United States: Diplomatic Papers [hereafter FRUS], 1945. The Near East and Africa, vol. 8 (1945), http://avalon.law.yale.edu/20th_century/decad161.asp. 

56. The poem is reproduced in Ya’qub ‘Awadat, Min a‘lam al-fikr wal-adab fi Filastin [Leading literary and intellectual figures in Palestine], 2nd ed. (Jerusalem: Dar al-Isra’, 1992). 

[xtruss]

More Than 10 Years Later, The Senate Torture Report Is Still Secret

I Filed A Lawsuit To Obtain The 6,700-Page Report with “Excruciating Detail” About The CIA’s Abuses.

— Shawn Musgrave | June 27 2024

The Control Tower is seen through the razor wire inside the Camp VI Detention Facility in Guantánamo Bay Naval Base, Cuba, in 2019. AP

The Senate Select Committee on Intelligence submitted its 6,700-page “torture report” about the CIA to the White House in April 2014. More than 10 years later, the full report remains secret after a federal appellate court dismissed a lawsuit I filed in the hopes of forcing its release.

The document “includes comprehensive and excruciating detail” about the CIA’s “program of indefinite secret detention and the use of brutal interrogation techniques,” the late Sen. Dianne Feinstein, who chaired the Senate intelligence committee at the time, wrote in a 2014 summary.

For years, there have been calls to release the full report, including from human rights watchdogs, one of its authors, and even Feinstein and some high-ranking Democrats on the Senate intelligence committee.

“The full report details how the CIA lied to the public, the Congress, the president, and to itself about the information produced by the torture program,” said Tom Blanton, director of the National Security Archive at George Washington University, which has fought to obtain CIA records. “We need to know our real history so we don’t repeat its crimes.”

So far, efforts to obtain the torture report using the federal Freedom of Information Act have been unsuccessful. In late 2016, despite the CIA director’s objections, former President Barack Obama placed a copy in his presidential papers. But that copy is not subject to FOIA until 2029 — 12 years after Obama left office.

The CIA and a handful of federal agencies also have copies of the torture report, although the Trump administration returned several of these to the Senate intelligence committee vaults in 2017.

The Obama, Trump, and Biden administrations all fought strenuously against FOIA requests for these agencies’ copies. In 2017, the Supreme Court declined to consider a challenge from the American Civil Liberties Union. A law professor’s attempt to obtain the report under FOIA is currently pending before the U.S. 2nd Circuit Court of Appeals, following oral argument last fall.

In 2021, my lawyer, Kel McClanahan of National Security Counselors, tried a different tack. We sued the Senate intelligence committee itself and its current chair, Sen. Mark Warner, D-Va., for a copy of the full torture report.

FOIA explicitly does not apply to Congress. Instead, McClanahan argued that the public is entitled to the committee’s copy of the torture report under the common law right of access, a doctrine that is well developed when it comes to court records but less so regarding the records of Congress.

“It is high time that this critical piece of American history is made public,” McClanahan said.

The district court rejected this argument in 2022, ruling that it had no jurisdiction to order the committee to disclose the report because of the U.S. Constitution’s Speech or Debate Clause, which protects members of Congress from being sued for legislative activities. Last week, the D.C. Circuit Court of Appeals upheld that ruling.

“In sum, we conclude that the report is a legislative document, and that the Speech or Debate Clause therefore protects it from compelled disclosure,” wrote Judge Cornelia Pillard for the unanimous panel.

If courts continue declining to wade into the matter, Congress could also take steps to make the torture report available before 2029. Sen. Ron Wyden, D-Ore., who still sits on the intelligence committee, has previously called for it to be declassified.

“I’m not holding my breath,” Blanton said.

[peaamlipoetrydoctor]

The First Year After The Nearly Nineteen Years Before

Yesterday - 2nd June 2023 -

I guess, a sort-of milestone anniversary

[full disclosure NOW - this is a set of fragments not a poem]

We had dinner in town with a friend to mark the occasion - and we got there early - and sat, chilly, by a beer-barrel table at the Market Porter - wondering which of the other drinkers were Something In The City - seemed like quite a diverse crowd - more so than I was expecting - more so than I'd expect to see if I were there during market-porter hours, 6am in the morning - this made me happy...

Last summer is a desert - we did things - I guess we went to Wales - I know we went to Goodwood - I started back at college - full-time, this time - full-time in college terms is considerably more part-time-feeling compared to full-time, financial services style - I don't know why this surprised me...

My favourite writing exercise was the one where we wrote a first person account of going to a birthday party (while not revealing that the viewpoint character had just come back from a warzone - not revealing it - but finding ways to let that experience seep through) - and then rewrote it - in third person - and paid attention to which details disappeared or had to change to support the new perspective

That was a fun mindgame. And revealing.

Weekends every few weeks I have been zoom-poetry-writing with my friend Marna who lives on the other side of the world. How marvellous that we can enter a shared online bubble-place and create there, partly alone and partly in the flow of our conversation.

Christmas was a fracture.

January was a chance to present at the International Symposium on Autoethnography and Narrative - with my friend Joan - zoom again but this time with the extra element of pre-recorded videos - we learned as much from the process of prepping and making the video as from attending - but we also learned things in attending - and again in looping back into the work afterwards in pitching a paper for the conference proceedings...

In there somewhere, I made some poetry pamphlets - some with my work and a couple for my dad, with his.

Somewhere in there I hosted calls for the doctorate alumni - and present participants - a gesture of ongoing optimism about the capacity for inquiry to reignite, to stay alive, to re-become vital.

Somewhere in there I took classes and started to get to know some time travellers on a far-away world.

And other things too.

I joined in NaPoWriMo for the third time - and for the first time, crashed out before the end. Just - woke up on April 27th and thought NON - non, enough, cannot.

It gives me great happiness to see that my last little poem-collage-image, from April 26th, expresses precisely the same sentiment.

Non.

No thank you.

Enough. Cannot.

All of which / by which / to say -

Thank you, Universe. It's been a good year.

[morgandwyer]

meet morgan!

Welcome to Aurora Bay, [MORGAN DWYER]! I couldn’t help but notice you look an awful lot like [LAURA HARRIER]. You must be the [TWENTY-EIGHT] year old [FLOWER SHOP OWNER]. Word is you’re [HARD-WORKING] but can also be a bit [STERN] and your favorite song is [WORKING BITCH BY ASHNIKKO]. I also heard you’ll be staying in [OCEAN CREST APARTMENTS]. I’m sure you’ll love it!

Full name: Morgan Rose Dwyer

Age/DOB: 28 / April 2nd, 1994

Hometown: Aurora Bay, CA

Gender/pronouns: cisfemale, she/her

Positive traits: hard working, dedicated, smart

Negative traits: stern, stubborn, inpatient

Hobbies/interests: gardening, cooking

Family: Amelia Dwyer Evans (mother), Rick Evans (step-father), unknown father, older half brother (wc), younger half sibling (wc), and Journey Evans (13, half-sister)

tw neglect, tw parental abuse (very very minor mention)

Morgan's life didn't start in the most wonderful of circumstances. Her mother didn't know who the father was, which by itself wasn't a bad thing on paper by any means. However, for a young woman that preferred to be out partying rather than being home with her children, it was certainly a shame to only have one parent. Morgan primarily had to rely on her older brother for any support or help throughout her young life. Amelia Dwyer much preferred to be out on the town. Even when they gained a new sibling when Morgan was five, their mother wasn't very present.

Without the very greatest example to follow, Morgan grew up a bit wild. She acted out in class, she caused trouble and started fights, she ignored her assignments. Her mother got called often, but that usually just resulted in Morgan getting screamed at once they got home and a double helping of chores for that night. Her brother was the one that would sit her down, gently ask what was going on, and try to help. He believed in Morgan more than anyone else ever had, and she looked to him for everything, even if her wild child days didn't cease quite yet.

When Morgan was eleven, her mother married a man she'd met only six months before. The equally unhinged, equally avoidant Rick Evans. For the most part, he was entirely uninvolved in the lives of the kids, except for playing a part in creating another one when Morgan was fifteen. Morgan naturally never formed a very tight bond with this man, despite Amelia's increasing irritation at her three older children refusing to call him 'dad,' and chose to ignore him. The sentiment was mutual by far.

It wasn't until her final year of high school that Morgan really decided to shape up. She'd been wild her entire life, always coming in at the bottom of her classes and skipping as many as she possibly could, but she wanted one thing and one thing alone. To escape. She was terrified of winding up like her mother, a woman she'd grown to hate, and acknowledged that she'd set up no prospects for herself whatsoever. So she worked hard, scraping by in the top half of her grade for her senior, and secured a spot in the local community college. With a lot of hard work and determination, something she'd never had before in her life, she finished getting her basics and enrolled in university to get her business degree. The day she walked the stage and accepted her diploma was, and still is, the proudest day of her life.

Throughout her education, she worked whatever odd jobs she could find, just to eventually get a job at Flora and Fauna Florist, where she found herself happily setting in. She rented the cheapest apartment she could find and worked her ass off to save whatever money she could with the ultimate goal of purchasing a local business one day. But, towards the very end of 2021, when the original owners of the flower shop were tragically coming to the conclusion that they were ready to retire, she realized she didn't want to go anywhere else. So they sat down, wrote up all the plans, and Morgan bought her beloved flower shop off of them in December of 2021. It's been in her hands ever since.

Morgan is incredibly proud of herself and how far she's come, all on her own. She takes herself incredibly seriously and expects the same of the people in her life. Of course she can relax and have fun... but really, it isn't common. She likes her structure and her discipline, and she's very happy that way.

A few connections I would love are

A roommate! Ideally someone she's lived with in Ocean Crest for a long while

Friends from school please! They would have known Morgan as a little troublemaker, always going on and causing mayhem, and got to see her grow into the straight-edge baddie she is now

I'd love an ex that Morgan broke the heart of, lmao. She has her personal goals and that's it, so maybe she was with someone for a while and then broke things off when they wanted to get more serious? It's just not her vibe man!

I'll be putting in WCs for two of her siblings, so if anyone is looking to pick up some new characters....

Anything tbh! Come at me!

[toomanyrobins2]

I'm A Beast

Summary: An orphan all her life, Y/N is simply too old to remain at The Bowery Home any longer. That is where an anonymous patron has swooped in to send her off to college and all he requires…a monthly letter of her academic progress.

Based off the book and musical “Daddy Long Legs”

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Reader

last part // series masterlist // next part

2nd April 

Dear Batman, 

I am a BEAST. Please forget about that dreadful letter I sent you last week--I was feeling terribly lonely and miserable and sore-throaty the night I wrote. I didn't know it, but I was just sickening for tonsillitis and grippe, and lots of things mixed. I'm in the infirmary now, and have been here for six days; this is the first time they would let me sit up and have a pen and paper. The head nurse is very bossy. But I've been thinking about it all the time and I shan't get well until you forgive me. 

I have a bandage tied around my head in rabbit's ears. It’s thoroughly pitiful looking. Doesn't that arouse your sympathy? I am having sublingual gland swelling. And I've been studying physiology all the year without ever hearing of sublingual glands. How futile a thing is education! I can't write anymore; I get rather shaky when I sit up too long. Please forgive me for being impertinent and ungrateful.

Yours with love and many, many apologies, 

Y/N

THE INFIRMARY  

4th April 

Dearest Batman,

I don’t think it's possible to feel more guilty than I do now that I am on the mend. I have written the harshest words to the man who I owe everything. And now, on my bedside table, sit the most beautiful bouquet I have never set my eyes on! 

And not only did I receive flowers, but a note as well! You are not bald! The joy I feel may eclipse my guilt entirely!

Yesterday evening just towards dark, when I was sitting up in bed looking out at the rain and feeling awfully bored with life in a great institution, the nurse appeared with a long white box addressed to me, and filled with the most beautiful, colorful bouquet. And much nicer still, it contained a card with a message written in a funny little uphill backhand (but one which shows a great deal of character). Thank you a thousand times. Your flowers make the first real, true present I ever received in my life. If you want to know what a baby I am I lay down and cried because I was so happy.

Now that I am sure you read my letters, I'll make them much more interesting, so they'll be worth keeping in a safe with red tape around them--only please take out that dreadful one and burn it up. I'd hate to think that you ever read it over. Thank you for making a very sick, cross, miserable Freshman cheerful. Probably you have lots of loving family and friends, and you don't know what it feels like to be alone. But I do. To make up for my behavior, I have a secret I've been keeping from you. I hope you won’t take everything away from me, but I feel so awful I must find a way to make it right. 

Goodbye--I'll promise never to be horrid again because now I know you're a real person; also I'll promise never to bother you with any more questions. Do you still hate girls? 

Yours forever, 

Y/N

Bruce felt a weight lift from his chest as he read the letter. As soon as he saw the sign offs and her sending him love, it was a relief after a week of headaches. Y/N must have written the first letter before the flowers had reached her, because if there was one thing Bruce knew, she would have gushed���or at least he hoped she would. Instead of sending Alfred out to fetch them, he found himself at a flower shop. He had studied the language of flowers and had carefully crafted a message to her. Purple hyacinths for regret and blue for making peace. The lily of the valley was symbolic of his humility and hope that Y/N would return to happiness. Yellow roses showed his hope of friendship and the one flower he was nervous about: pink carnation. The message was never forget you and Bruce was worried it was too intimate a message. While Y/N may not know what he was saying or that he was even communicating, Bruce was reaching out in all of his stunted emotional intelligence.

8th hour, Monday

Dear Batman,

I hope you aren't the Trustee who sat on the toad? It went off—I was told—with quite a pop, so probably he was a fatter Trustee. 

Do you remember the little dugout places with gratings over them by the laundry windows in the Bowery Home? Every spring when the frog season opened, we used to form a collection of toads and keep them in those window holes; and occasionally they would spill over into the laundry, causing a very pleasurable commotion on wash days. We were severely punished for our activities in this direction, but in spite of all discouragement the toads would collect.

And one day—well, I won't bore you with particulars—but somehow, one of the fattest, biggest, juiciest toads got into one of those big leather arm chairs in the Trustees' room, and that afternoon at the Trustees' meeting—But I dare say you were there and recall the rest?

Looking back dispassionately after a period of time, I will say that punishment was merited, and—if I remember rightly—adequate. I don't know why I am in such a reminiscent mood except that spring and the reappearance of toads always awakens the old acquisitive instinct. The only thing that keeps me from starting a collection is the fact that no rule exists against it.

Bruce remembered that particular incident fondly. Thankfully, the trustee had not been he. It had been Thomas Elliot who had the misfortune of the toad. Knowing that Y/N had been part in that attack on the odious man had a massive smile growing on Bruce’s face. He returned to the letter, hoping to hear more about her day. 

After chapel, Thursday

What do you think is my favorite book? Just now, I mean; I change every three days. Wuthering Heights. Emily Bronte was quite young when she wrote it, and had never been outside of Haworth churchyard. She had never known any men in her life; how could she imagine a man like Heathcliffe?

I couldn't do it, and I'm quite young and never outside the John Grier Asylum—I've had every chance in the world. Sometimes a dreadful fear comes over me that I'm not a genius. Will you be awfully disappointed, if I don't turn out to be a great author? In the spring when everything is so beautiful and green and budding, I feel like turning my back on lessons, and running away to play with the weather. There are such lots of adventures out in the fields! It's much more entertaining to live books than to write them.

“AHHHHHH!”

That was a shriek which brought Harriet and Babs and (for a disgusted moment) the Senior from across the hall. It was caused by a massivecentipede. Just as I had finished the last sentence and was thinking what to say next, it fell off the ceiling and landed at my side. I tipped two cups off the tea table in trying to get away. Barbs whacked it with the back of my hair brush—which I shall never be able to use again—and killed the front end, but the rear fifty feet ran under the bureau and escaped. This dormitory, owing to its age and ivy-covered walls, is full of centipedes. They are dreadful creatures. I'd rather find a tiger under the bed.

Friday, 9.30 p.m.

Such a lot of troubles! I didn't hear the rising bell this morning, then I broke my shoestring while I was hurrying to dress and dropped my collar button down my neck. I was late for breakfast and also for the first-hour recitation. I forgot to take any blotting paper and my fountain pen leaked. 

In trigonometry the Professor and I had a disagreement touching a little matter of logarithms. On looking it up, I find that she was right. We had mutton stew and pie-plant for lunch—hate 'em both; they taste like the asylum. The post brought me nothing but bills (though I must say that I never do get anything else; my family are not the kind that write). In English class this afternoon we had an unexpected written lesson. This was it:

I asked no other thing, No other was denied. I offered being for it; The mighty merchant smiled.

Brazil? He twirled a button Without a glance my way: “But, madam, is there nothing else That we can show today?”

That is a poem. I don't know who wrote it or what it means. It was simply printed out on the blackboard when we arrived and we were ordered to comment upon it. When I read the first verse I thought I had an idea—The Mighty Merchant was a divinity who distributes blessings in return for virtuous deeds—but when I got to the second verse and found him twirling a button, it seemed a blasphemous supposition, and I hastily changed my mind. The rest of the class was in the same predicament; and there we sat for three-quarters of an hour with blank paper and equally blank minds. Getting an education is an awfully wearing process!

But this didn't end the day. There's worse to come.

It rained so we couldn't play golf, but had to go to the gymnasium instead. The girl next to me banged my elbow with an club. I got home to find that the box with my new blue spring dress had come, and the skirt was so tight that I couldn't sit down. Friday is sweeping day, and the maid had mixed all the papers on my desk. We had “tombstone'' for dessert (milk and gelatin flavored with vanilla). We were kept in the chapel twenty minutes later than usual to listen to a speech about feminine women. And then—just as I was settling down with a sigh of well-earned relief to The Portrait of a Lady, a girl named Ackerly, a dough-faced, deadly, unintermittently stupid girl, who sits next to me in Latin because her name begins with A (I wish Mother Waller had named me Zabriski), came to ask if Monday's lesson commenced at paragraph 69 or 70, and stayed ONE HOUR. She has just gone.

Did you ever hear of such a discouraging series of events? It isn't the big troubles in life that require character. Anybody can rise to a crisis and face a crushing tragedy with courage, but to meet the petty hazards of the day with a laugh—I really think that requires spirit.

It's the kind of character that I am going to develop. I am going to pretend that all life is just a game which I must play as skilfully and fairly as I can. If I lose, I am going to shrug my shoulders and laugh—also if I win. Anyway, I am going to be a sport. You will never hear me complain again, Batsy dear, because Harriett wears silk stockings and centipedes drop off the wall.

Yours ever,

Y/N

P.s. Answer soon. How am I to know what to read if I don’t know your favorite book?

@inluvwithladybug

@pierres-new-spectacles

@kity-k4t

[the---hermit]

02|03|2022

This morning I struggled quite a bit to keep my focus. I still managed to finish my second reading of chapter I have to write a paper on. With this second reading I also took some notes, and I have a clearer idea of the subject. Other than this I practiced Irish on duolingo, I continued reading Gone Girl by G. Flynn, I edited the short story I wrote for February, and then in the afternoon I catched up with a friend.

Tranquil's study challenge 2022 // Day Fifteen: What makes you feel at home within yourself? It can be a physical object or activity, or just something you tell yourself to make you feel more accepted and loved in your own skin.

This may sound weird, but ever since I started getting tattoos I have grown more and more comfortable in my skin. It's a weird thing cause I often forget that I even have ink on my skin, but then I either move my arms or see myself reflected in a mirror, and I have this rush of evergy of like " I am slowly reaching my final form". Every single one of them was meant to be on my skin, and getting them is almost like finding an image under a scratch ticket (am I making sense? probably not).

March productivity challenge // 1st March: What are your goals for this month? What's something you're looking forward to?

This month I have to study all the material for my philosophy of science exam in April. It's a lot of stuff. I also have a yearly goal of writing a short story each month, so that's another think I plan on doing this month, and I have a good idea already, so I'm really excited for that.

2nd March: Do you consider yourself a workaholic? What times do you feel most productive?

I don't really like the word, but I'm pretty sure it fits with the person I am. I am the most productive in the morning, and it slowly wears off the day.

[not-all-dead]

angstpril day twenty: the silent treatment

CW: mentions of a breakup but that’s pretty much the worst of it

fic under the cut

November 3rd, 142

Lin,

Mom made me promise I’d write to you, so here’s me doing that. Grandma and Grandpa say hi, and they want you to visit soon. School’s boring as ever and I have no friends here which is just great. Thanks for that. At least they have good food here, the chef is pretty amazing. Still, I think I’m going to run away soon, just for the sake of it. Maybe I’ll find a family actually worth keeping. Anyway, I don’t miss you or mom, have fun arresting people or whatever.

Su

February 7th, 143

Lin,

Heard you’re chief now. Congrats I guess. Does mom finally pay attention to you? Who am I kidding, of course she doesn’t. Anyway, I left Grandma and Grandpa’s. I’m part of this cool travelling circus right now, but I think I’m going to try something new soon. It’s been fun though, lots of flying through the air above lava pits and other super dangerous things. I bet I’m having a better time than you are, stuck in the stupid city.

I call Grandma every week or two to keep her updated on what I’m doing, otherwise she’ll freak out and think I’m dead or something. She told me today that mom called her yesterday. Mom said she was going to Gaoling to drop off her things before travelling wherever just like I’m doing. Guess I have more in common with her than I thought. I also guess that means you’ve got the apartment to yourself now, must be nice.

How’s Tenzin? You two still madly in love? Actually, don’t tell me, I don’t really care. Not that you’re going to respond to this at all. Whatever. I’ve got a performance to get to, so bye.

Su

December 19th, 145

Lin,

I wish you’d write back. I’m much older now, and I’d be happy to talk things out with you if you’d respond. But I guess that’s something you have to want too, and clearly you still hate me, so I won’t count on it.

I know I haven’t written in a while. I was on a pirate ship for a while, learning to sail and such, and we didn’t dock often. Any paper we had on board was constantly damp, too, so I didn’t see the point. After that I live in a sandbender commune. It was really interesting to see how different people lived, especially different earthbenders. I tried learning to sandbend but it didn’t go so well.

But that’s all past now. I’m building a city now, a city entirely of metal. I’ve got this wonderful architect named Baatar helping me with it, and thank goodness I do. I honestly don’t know how I’d execute my plans without him. I think I might ask him to marry me. I mean, I really do like him, and the idea of a family sounds so nice. If I did I’d really like for you to be there.

I hope everything in the city is alright. Last time I spoke to mom, a couple years ago now, she said you were still going steady with Tenzin. I don’t know how you two have stayed together this long already, you always seemed so different from one another to me. I guess opposites really do attract, as they always say. I’ll write again soon.

Su

April 2nd, 146

Lin,

It would mean the world to me if you could make it. Please come if you can, I’d really like to see you again.

Su

March 27th, 147

Lin,

You have a nephew! I was bummed that you didn’t come to the wedding, but it’s alright. Maybe you’d like to come and meet Baatar Jr. sometime this year… we’d welcome you here in Zaofu if you did. We’re still working on building up the outer cities, but the central hub where our house is is fully operational. I’d love to show you how it all works, we have metalbender staff in training to operate practically every part of the city. It’s a busy time, with the new baby and all the construction.

Please tell me you and your airhead of a boyfriend are getting married soon. I mean, come on! It’s been ten years already, I don’t see how you can possibly still be “taking it slow”. You make no sense to me sometimes, Lin. But then again, I’m sure you feel the same about me.

Mom’s been visiting Zaofu pretty regularly. She’s coming in next week to meet Baatar Jr. for the first time. She still seems to be holding a grudge against me. You two really are cut from the same cloth, you know. I might try to talk things out with her when she comes this time, or at least set a time sometime soon for us to flush things over. It would be great if you’d come too so we could put all this family drama nonsense behind us.

Su

May 30th, 150

Lin,

I’m disappointed that you still refuse to answer. Honestly, mom and I have spent two years talking and figuring things out. We’re good now, and there were plenty of opportunities we gave you to join us. I’m sorry you’re still so bitter.

Baatar Jr. is three now, you’d know if you ever cared to visit. He hasn’t shown any signs of bending yet, but Baatar is a non-bender and I started bending late so that’s not too surprising. We’ve got another one on the way, due in a couple weeks actually. I think if it’s a boy we’ll name him Huan, and if it’s a girl probably Hei-Ran. Again, I wish you’d come and actually be a part of my kids’ lives, but you seem dead set against it.

Kya actually dropped by not too long ago. I hadn’t seen her in ages, so it was a nice surprise. She says her travels have been going well, and she’d visited practically every place on the planet! I loved my time travelling, but ultimately family life is what suited me best. She said she was heading back to Republic City soon, so maybe she’ll drop in on you, too. Anyway, hope the triads aren’t causing too too much havoc for you, Chief.

Su

January 16th, 151

Lin,

Look, I don’t know what your problem is, but I’ve given up. If you’re really that set on giving me the cold shoulder, so be it. I’ll stop writing at all.

Sorry you’re not mature enough to handle this like an adult.

If you were wondering, Huan is very healthy and strong. Baatar Jr. too. Baatar Sr. took ill a while back, but he’s alright now.

I don’t know why I’m telling you any of this when I know you don’t care. Well. Sorry I’m such a bother to you.

Su

August 4th, 156

Lin,

Mom told me what happened with you and Tenzin. He’s an asshole, good on you for wrecking the island. You were always too good for him anyway. I know I haven’t written in a long time, I just didn’t see the point if you kept ignoring me. Maybe now you’ll come and see your family, it might be nice after losing Tenzin.

You’ve got a niece, now, too. And four nephews, the youngest being the twins. They’re only just over a year old now, and Opal recently turned three. I tell them stories about their Aunt Lin, you know. The older boys would really like to meet you, and I’m sure Opal and the twins will too when they’re a little bit more grown up. I want to see you again too, Lin, and I wish you’d at least try to let go of the past. Even just a letter back would make my day.

Hope you’re holding up as Chief there, not too much trouble with the triads or whomever else is committing crime these days.

Su

November 7th, 158

Lin,

Baatar Jr. is now eleven, and seems to be quite the budding architect just like his father. Huan has taken up metalbending little sculptures, so for his eighth birthday he got a little studio just for his art. Opal is five now, and growing up fast. I’ve never seen a five year old read as well as she does. Wing and Wei are still just three, but they seem to enjoy throwing pebbles at one another. I think they’ll be strong benders when they're older.

Mom and I finally made up properly. It’s nice to see her with the kids. She said she wrote to you asking you to come and chat too, but you ignored her. No surprises there. I might stop writing again if you keep this up, so don’t act shocked.

Su

October 21st, 160

Lin,

Mom’s here for a few weeks. Opal turned seven this year, Baatar Jr. thirteen, Huan ten, and the twins five. Wing and Wei invented a game for themselves to help with their metalbending training, they call it “power disk”.

I’m not sure what else to say to you anymore. I’m not sure why I’m even writing this now, after eighteen years. Eighteen years, Lin, and you haven’t even bothered to write back. At least I’ve tried to reach out. But now, I’m done. For real this time. Write if you want, I don’t care. I’m not going to keep sending these anymore.

Su

December 6th, 170

Lin,

Are you alright?! Mom had to tell me about you losing your bending, and she only found out through Katara! I can’t imagine what that must’ve been like. All I can say is that it would undoubtedly be awful.

I miss you, you know. It’s been almost thirty years since we last spoke. I know mom misses you too, and my kids would really like to meet their Aunt. It makes me sad that you’re still so sour about what happened, even after so much time has passed. We’ve both grown and changed as people, and I don’t understand why you can’t see that. Maybe I’m wrong, maybe it’s only me who’s changed at all. Even so, I do miss you, and I wish you’d write. Or visit.

I hope you’re alright, Lin, I really do.

Su

[whatdoesshedotothem]

Wednesday 23 March 1836

8 10

11 ¾

no kiss A- very low till I accidentally told her I had no fear nor had Doctor B- of her going really wrong (in her mind) she then cheered up and seemed better - fine morning ready in ¾ hour - F41° at 9 - went out to the Rockwork - Robert Mann + 3 and Mr. Freeman’s men and ditto getting stones + 6 horses bringing stone from Whiskum quarry as yesterday - Mr. Freeman did not arrive till about 9 ½ - breakfast at 10 in about ¾ hour - had had Mawson to beg the use of my trestles and of one of my 12ft. lengths of pit-piping - found Mr. Freeman had a friend (late professor of surveying and map-making at the Woolwich academy) and his son and nephew just come to see what we were about - I very civil to them - about 11 ½ Mr. Harper came - had not time to take him into the house, so settled my business with him as we stood near the rockwork  he thinks the magistrates would have no right to take away the Northgate hotel licence even if we did not sell any ale etc before the next licence day, but says we had better try and make some profit by opening the tap-room which will be ready by the end of May as also the coach office stabling for 30 horses, and the near line of coach houses, with granary brewhouse etc - the kitchens will be ready by the end of July - much talk about a tenant - if I do not get one by the end of May to advertise in the London papers in June, and try to get the hotel let by the next licence day (in September) - Mr. Harper in good spirits about it - thinks the hotel will pay very well eventually - gave me the drawings of the conery wood cottage and the garden cottage - the latter to be done this summer - had been over to Sowerby bridge and seen Mr. George Bates yesterday afternoon - had agreed to the last estimate - the levelling of Messrs. Oates and Husband (had examined it yesterday) right and Washington wrong by 3ft. - all to be settled about the wheel-race etc when Mr. Harper comes over in about a fortnight or 3 weeks hence - Booth should not have dressed the key stone of the Lodge arch - should never be dressed till all has settled down as much as it will do - the Lodge will be finished by the end of April - the alterations the N-s are making in their house in York will be done for £350 - they told me at 1st they did not wish to exceed £150 and this made him say much at the cost of things - I told him I had prepared them for £500 expense - Mr. Harper will be in London the 1st or 2nd week in May - said I should probably be there about that time - he went away (to return to York this afternoon) about 12 - the men went to dinner about 12 ¼ - I came in to A- and walked with her out for near an hour to the Lodge and by the Lower brea road and Wellroyde and the walk home –

  SH:7/ML/E/19/0016

 with the men again before 2 - Mr. Freeman came back about 2 ½  from Hx where he went at 12 ¼ and staid till the men went home at 6 25 - Mr. Freeman came in and had 3 glasses of port as yesterday and staid till after 7 - dinner at 7 ¼ - coffee A- said vocabulary French but did not read - with my aunt from 8 ¾ A- for ¼ hour and I for ½ hour - much as last night - Note from Mr. Parker this evening to say he advised something being sold (ale or wine spirits or something) at the Northgate hotel before the next licence day - as speaking of the magistrates ‘their worships are a little capricious’ - A- had Throp between 2 and 3 this afternoon and I saw him and speaking of Mr. Rawson’s conduct in stirring up the mob against A-‘s water lane mill well, said it was a blackguard piece of business to which Throp very heartily assented - from 10 to 10 20 wrote the above of today - fine day tho’ a few drops of rain about (before and after) 2 - F43° at 10 pm.

[moriartysheadspace]

CATCH UP POST \\ #aprilstudychallenge and #wilstudiesapril

April 1st

What do you have going on this month?

Probably a lot, if i have to do catch up posts at the really beginning of this challenge… the semester start was so busy and i also am struggling with my mental health at this moment. This month will be filled up with organising my lectures, starting to study for my lectures and connecting with people from university.

What are you looking forward to this month?

Mostly i’m looking forward to reading books, spring finally arriving, visiting my family and spending time with friends. Also I’ll start a daily yoga challenge on the 4th. Hopefully i can stick to it.

April 2nd

Favourite teacher/professor and why?

It was definitely my history professor during my a-levels. She was just so kind and helpful and so keen of her subject. She really had a passion about teaching history.

Three goals for April?

Stick to habits. Build habits. Getting more focused.

April 3rd

One time where studying paid off

I don’t think there was a time where it specially paid of… i mean it’s studying.. it always kind of pays of. Every percent or point you gain, because you studied pays of.

Reflect on march

Just two words; chaotic and difficult. It was just so exhausting an I’m still trying to recover and sort things out.

April 4th

Why did you make a studyblr?

Because i really like the community. Mostly everybody is just so kind and supportive. Everyone tries to share helpful tips and hacks for everybody and no one is jealous or something.

How are you finding your subjects at the moment?

I cannot say much about my subjects at this point… the semester just started and we didn’t dive into the topics by now… think i have to postpone this question to an other later day…

April 5th

Handwritten or typed notes?

Most of the time handwritten. It helps me more to remember the things i studied. But unfortunately my handwriting is so chaotic that sometimes i can’t decipher anything i wrote before. Maybe i should become a doctor not a lawyer.

What initially sparked your interest in the subjects you take?

Unfortunately nothing. This semester all subjects i take are subjects i have to take, according to our university. There is one subject that is really interesting. It’s constitutional law, and i really like it.

April 6th

Your bujo spread this week

I do not have a bujo…

How do you plan your time? Bullet journal, phone memos etc.

I use a paper calendar and lots of to do lists. I block time in my calendar and write down my daily to dos. Then i try to do everything, but without any schedule or something. Just task by task.

I’m quite looking forward to April in general, and hopefully i can stick to my habits and build up new. The semester just started and its the first time that i study as a full time student, so i do have to learn to organise myself. Need urgently to find coping strategies, so that I’m independent from others, that i can calm myself and learn to listen more to my gut, my feelings and my needs. Hopefully this will work.

[truecrimesstuff]

The only judge in India who was hanged:

This heinous crime dates back to the early 70s and in its entirety jolted the whole of Assam, India. Upendra Nath Rajkhowa was posted as a District and Sessions Judge in Dhuburi, Assam in 1969. Due to his rank and service, he was given many facilities and even a bungalow for accommodation. His family consisted of his wife Mrs. Putuli Rajkhowa and three daughters namely Miss Nirmali Rajkhowa, Miss Jonali Rajkhowa, and Miss Rupali Rajkhowa.

Upendra Nath Rajkhowa and his family.

Rajkhowa initially arrived alone in Dhuburi and stayed up in the Circuit House and later on shifted to the bungalow given by the government. Around October 1969 during the Durga Puja holidays his family arrived in Dhuburi and started staying with him. After the holidays were over his youngest daughters Jonali Rajkhowa and Rupali Rajkhowa went back to resume their college studies in Guwahati.

In January 1970, Rajkhowa told Bigan Prosad Rout, a helper in his court to uproot a stump that was standing near his bathroom. Rout did what was asked of him with the help of another helper in the court Md. Sahid Ali and the gardener Radha Nath Mali. As the stump was removed a pit was left behind in the same location. Rajkhowa didn't allow the helpers to fill up the pit stating that he wanted to grow some flowers there. He again advised Md. Sahid Ali to dig up another pit at the East side of the compound where he said he would plant some lotuses which will be brought from Coochbehar.

Rajkhowa retired from his services on 2nd February, 1970, but he didn't immediately vacate the bungalow. 10th February being Saraswati Puja, Rajkhowa sent all his house helps to go out and celebrate. Bigan later recalled that at about 8:30 P.M when he returned he saw Rajkhowa coming back from somewhere with his wife and eldest daughter Nirmali and all three were seen sitting around the fire and talking. Sadly, it was the last day Putuli Rajkhowa and Nirmali Rajkhowa were seen alive.

On 11th February, when Bigan came to the Rajkhowa residence he was shocked to learn from Mr. Rajkhowa that his wife and eldest daughter had gone back to Guwahati, Assam and that Mr.Rajkhowa had himself gone to drop them at the bus stop. When he further questioned about why they had gone back since there were no plans even till the previous evening Rajkhowa told him that they had decided on moving back as he was already retired. Rajkhowa then sent Bigan to the market and when he returned he saw Rajkhowa washing some clothes in the bathroom and the disposal water coming out had a red tinge. Later, that day a plumber who had come to the Rajkhowa residence to repair a water pump saw Rajkhowa leveling a pit near the kitchen. When Rajkhowa saw the plumber he ran away inside and instead sent a helper to tell the plumber that the owner of the house wasn't there.

Upendra Nath Rajkhowa's two younger daughters Jonali and Rupali were studying in Guwahati at that time and were staying in the house of Barada Charan Sarma, the brother-in-law of Upendra Nath Rajkhowa. On 14th February 1970 Rajkhowa gave a call to Sarma asking him to send Jonali and Rupali to Dhuburi as he had planned a Darjeeling trip with the family. Sarma informed Rajkhowa about their impending exams but Rajkhowa was adamant so, he sent Jonali and Rupali to Dhuburi by the afternoon bus that day itself. Rajkhowa himself went to the bus stand to pick them up and when they asked about the whereabouts of their mother and elder sister they were informed by Rajkhowa to be visiting a relative name Lakhi Goswami in Kokrajhar. Jonali and Rupali were last seen alive by Bigan on 25th February 1970 at about 10:00 A.M. At 2:30 P.M Bigan saw Rajkhowa talking to a man in a black car and at about 4:30 P.M when Rajkhowa came back into the house he instead told Bigan that he had sent back his two daughters to Guwahati in a friend's car as they were having some study issues. On 26th February, Rajkhowa got the second pit which was dug in the East side of his compound filled up by his accomplice in the crime Umesh Baishya, who was also the house help. The pit was later leveled up by an unaware Md. Sahid Ali.

Rajkhowa's accomplice in the crime, Umesh Baishya.

On 13th April 1970 Rajkhowa sent two letters to Barada Sarma stating that his wife hasn't come back, that he received a phone call on Saturday and he would be traveling to Delhi on Tuesday night. He also informed him that Jonali and Rupali won't be appearing for the exams and would return to Guwahati in June. On 15th April, he left Dhuburi by the Siliguri Express after leaving some of his belongings in the hands of Mr. Golok Sarma and Mr. Joy Prakash Chakravarty. His accomplice in the crime Umesh Baishya stayed in the bungalow after he left, until June 1970.

After his departure, his further whereabouts were unknown until June 1970 when Rajkhowa visited Mr. Satya Prakash Chakravarty, father in Gauripur where he ended up staying for three days. He was asked about his family members but he said they were in Delhi. When he was getting ready to leave, Rajkhowa pleaded with the Chakravarty's to keep his visit and his further plan to go to Siliguri a secret. After this visit, Rajkhowa departed to Savoy Hotel in Siliguri.

In June, when after repeated attempts to contact Upendra Nath Rajkhowa failed, Barada Sarma started a frenzied search to get hold of him to enquire about his sister and nieces. Barada came to Dhuburi and was informed by Joy Prakash Chakravarty and Golok Sarma, who were close friends of Rajkhowa that he was at Room no 3 in Savoy Hotel, Siliguri. On 25th July 1970 Barada Sarma left with Apurba Barua, brother-in-law of Rajkhowa and D.N Kahali, the then officer-in-charge of Dhuburi Police Station, to Siliguri Savoy Hotel. They got hold of Rajkhowa in the aforementioned location. The men started questioning Rajkhowa who later told them that the whereabouts of his wife and daughters can be said only in writing. He was given a piece of paper whete ajkhowa wrote in Assamese that Putuli, Nirmali, Jonali, and Rupali weren't anymore in this world. When further pressed about their exact whereabouts, he later said that his wife had one evening seriously injured herself in a fall that led to her death and that Nirmali had also died due to an overdose of sleeping tablets. On their tragic death he wasn't in a sane mind and didn't know what to do so he called some people who disposed of the bodies by throwing them in the Brahmaputra river for a sum of Rs. 500. Rajkhowa further stated that the news of their mother and elder sister's death was too much to handle for his younger daughters and they committed suicide one evening by jumping into the Brahmaputra river. After he wrote this statement, Barada Sarma told him to accompany them to the police station to issue the same statement. They then went out of the room so that Rajkhowa can change his clothes. After some time they heard a sound and all of them barged inside and found that Rajkhowa attempted suicide by assaulting himself with a knife.

Rajkhowa was immediately taken to the hospital and a case was registered by Apurba Barua in the Siliguri police station. But when Barada didn't receive any additional information from the Siliguri police station he registered a case in Dhuburi Police Station on 4th August, 1970 and atlast on 9th August after twodays of continuous questioning, Rajkhowa confessed to killing his wife and daughters and burying their bodies within the official compound of the district judge with the help of the house help Umesh Baishya. He also further stated that that the crimes were committed on the nights of 10th February and 25th February, 1970. The Police then examined the pits where Rajkhowa had confessed burying the bodies of his family members. A pair of skeletons was found in both the pits and as a result Umesh Baishya was arrested immediately in 11th August, 1970, for helping Rajkhowa in committing the crime and in 13th August Upendra Nath Rajkhowa was arrested from Siliguri Hospital.

The then District and Sessions Judge's residence in Dhuburi where Rajkhowa buried his wife and daughters. This house is now infamously known in Assam as "Bhoot-Bangla" or "Ghosthouse".

Soon, the trial began and it went on for a year and the lower court sentenced Upendra Nath Rajkhowa to death and his accomplice in the crime Umesh Baishya to lifetime imprisonment. Upendra Nath Rajkhowa further appealed at the High Court against the death sentence, but the High Court upheld the decision of the Lower Court. Rajkhowa again appealed at the Supreme Court, but here too the previous sentences of the High Court and Lower Court were upheld. Rajkhowa also appealed to the President for mercy petition, but it was turned down. On 14 February 1976, the former judge Upendra Nath Rajkhowa was hanged in Jorhat jail for the murder of his four family members. But one big mystery still surrounds the case, Rajkhowa never told anyone even after numerous questioning the reason behind murdering his own wife and daughters and it still to this day remains a mystery.

Note: As this case dates back to the 70s I didn't find any good pictures of the victims and the criminals. The above given pictures are screenshots taken from some old youtube videos.

[mcwriting]

The Marriage Project (1)

Omg I can’t believe it’s taken me THIS long to post this. I wrote this chapter probably in like April or May and it freaks me out to finally post but here it is!

My slow burn (American) High School AU with Tom Holland!

All the general info for this series is on the story masterlist, but I’ll list warnings and word counts on every chapter. Chapters will be much longer than my typical 2000 or less babies

Warnings: This will become a mature story in the future (no smut; more info on masterlist). Some profanity in this chapter

Word Count: 4140 (I told you!)

% approximately the 2nd week of August %

Ah, senior year. One last year of high school, one last year of seeing the people you’ve grown up with every day.

You’ve been told it’s easy. The best year ever. And yeah, maybe it will be. It’s not like you’re taking too many hard classes or overloading yourself with extracurriculars, aside from volleyball, soccer, the National Honors Society, and quiz bowl.

(Okay maybe it was a little much, but you loved it anyways)

The only real problem was the certified thorn in your side, Tom Holland. 

He’d essentially been your mortal enemy since the sixth grade when he beat your mile time by only a few seconds. 

Now, it’s not that he was a bully or anything, he was just so insufferable to be around. And yes, everyone always says boys pick on girls when they like them, but rest assured that wasn’t the case. You’d both always hated each other, nothing more. 

You were always competing, and because of that ended up in the same place a lot.

He was in all your honors classes, in NHS, played boys soccer, and did quiz bowl. The only thing you had to yourself was volleyball except, oh wait, his younger brother’s girlfriend was on the team and Tom was his ride home every day.

All these thoughts raced through your head as you walked in on the first day, sitting down in AP calculus as soon as you finished up at your locker. 

Everyone did the “how was your summer?” and “long time no see!” as students filed in. Eventually walked in Tom, and you shot each other a glare as he sat down right next to you.

“Holland.”

“Y/l/n.”

Everyone around you groaned. They all knew you two were forces to be reckoned with and probably dreaded spending another year listening to the two of you bicker everyday.

Though you were often in close proximity, you never really talked much, except to argue. Rarely did you agree unless it was on basic facts, and even then was it hard to admit sometimes.

Because of this, you typically resigned yourselves to only speaking when it came to grades so you could keep a mental tally of who was in the lead. You were both in the running for valedictorian at the end of the year, and you were not about to let Tom win.

%

The week was almost over and things had gone smoothly for the most part. 

Sure, you and Tom had had a couple of spats, but nothing that wasn’t handled quickly. 

He’d been to all of your volleyball games so far, even the summer ones, which meant he was forced to watch you dominate the court as both a setter and right side hitter.

It was a nice little satisfaction. 

Especially because you’d watched him throw some horrendous passes in the preseason football game last week that led to a loss by one touchdown. (Okay, he’d had some good passes too, but they were lucky shots).

You settled into your seat in senior home economics Friday before lunch. The class was your school’s attempt at teaching some life skills for rising adults. For the most part however, it was a glorified cooking and sewing class. You didn’t mind per say, since you could cook up a pre-snack lunch sometimes.

Most of your friends were in there, including your best friend Alexis, whom you hadn’t seen all morning.

You, Alexis, and two other girls stood around a mixing bowl with the ingredients to make chocolate chip cookies since it was a Friday, which Mrs. Flynn called “dessert day.”

“Oh! Before I forget,” your teacher, Mrs. Flynn, started getting everyone’s attention. “This year we’re doing something new for this class! Next week I’ll have you all split into pairs for a semester long marriage project! I will be drawing names out of a hat, so don’t get too comfortable yet. Anyways, be thinking on what kinds of careers you might want and things of that nature! Okay, now get back to your desserts!”

The whole room broke out into chatter the last part of the hour-and-a-half class, people speculating who might end up with who and what jobs they’ll get.

“Oh my God, wouldn’t it be funny if y/n got Tom?” Alexis stated as you stirred chocolate chips into the dough. The other girls laughed as you just snorted.

“Yeah, I’d rather lick the inside of the microwave than be paired up with him for a semester,” you replied, earning more laughter from your friends.

You assumed Tom’s friends were saying the same however, because when you looked over to see how bad their dough looked, he was rolling his eyes as his group pointed in your direction.

%

The next week came and went, and it was once again Friday. Or, as Mrs. Flynn was calling it, Wedding Day.

Every time she’d pull a couple’s name, she was going to make you both come to the front of the class and exchange plastic wedding rings and sign a fake marriage license.

Yay.

Everyone chattered excitedly as she tore up the strips with your names and mixed them around. Finally the time came for her to start the drawing.

“Okay, friends. First up we have...” she drew the first name. “Katherine and... drumroll please?” 

The class drummed their hands over their thighs.

“Chris! Come on down folks, let’s get this marriage on!”

She “married” the first couple, and then continued to draw. You had to admit that you were a little nervous, but still eager to see who you’d get.

Two couples later, she pulled Tom’s name.

You shot him an eyebrow raise to which he returned a discreet middle finger. You rolled your eyes as you prepared a drumroll for Mrs. Flynn.

“And his lucky partner is... y/n!”

“What!” you both exclaimed simultaneously.

Almost the entire class burst into laughter.

“Mrs. Flynn, this has to be a mistake,” you said.

“Yeah, can’t we have a redraw?” Tom asked. 

You hated that he was agreeing with you.

“Nope! You get who you get and you don’t throw a fit! And if it doesn’t work out in a few weeks we can discuss divorce plans.”

“How about annulments,” you stated dryly, earning a chuckle from her.

“That… kinda depends on if you have kids,” she trailed awkwardly before perking back up. “Now come on down! They always say your first marriage is the most memorable!”

“Who has ever said that?” Tom asked.

“You know. They. Now just get up here and do the ring thing!” she commanded.

You both sulked up to the front of the room.

“Okay, now stand here facing each other and hold hands.”

“Do we have to?” Tom whined.

“Yes, now do it and it’ll be over with faster.”

He groaned, rolled his eyes, and grabbed your hands, holding them loosely.

“May I have the rings please!” Mrs. Flynn asked Caroline, the girl whose desk was closest that she’d asked to be designated ring bearer. She handed over the basket to let you both choose from the mix.

You took a silver colored ring with a faux white diamond in the shape of a star. Tom chose one with an oval “ruby.” You couldn’t help but notice how every single person was on edge watching the two of you.

“Okay now Tom, repeat after me. I, Tom Holland, take thee, y/n y/l/n, to be my wedded wife to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part.”

He mumbled through the vow, avoiding eye contact, and slipped your star ring onto your finger. You were surprised at how gentle he was, carefully caressing your hand and making sure the ring faced straight up once it was on your finger.

You, too, said the lines and placed the ring onto his left hand.

“Alright. It is with the power vested in me by this very school that I am proud to now pronounce you husband and wife! You may now air kiss!”

You took a deep sigh and pretended to kiss each other's cheeks. 

“Class, I’d like to introduce you all to Mr. and Mrs. Holland!”

They began to cheer and clap and laugh when you interjected.

“Uh, no. It’s Mr. and Mrs. y/l/n.”

Tom began to argue with you when Mrs. Flynn stopped you both.

“Alright fine, we’ll do a combined name. How’s the y/l/n-Holland family sound?” she asked, writing your names on the fake marriage certificate.

With reluctance, Tom agreed to having your name first and you both signed the paper.

Finally you were able to sit back down where your friends were waiting.

“So what was that about licking the microwave?” Alexis asked.

“Oh shut up.”

%

After your volleyball game (another win!), you and Alexis conversed over cheese fries at your favorite diner.

“Still not ready to talk about today?” she asked. You shook your head.

Alexis had been paired up with Caroline. They were both straight, but you had both been friends with her since freshman year and they got along well.

Today had just been the marriages, and next week you’d be learning more about your family dynamics.

“I’m just so pissed at him. This afternoon in senior art he told all the guys in there that he was going to make it as hard as possible for me. I mean jokes on him, he’s going to want to get an A too, but he was just so smug about it. He also strung his stupid ring on that necklace he’s always wearing. What’s that all about?”

“I mean you’re still wearing your ring. But yeah, that is a little weird.”

“I’m wearing mine because compared to some of the others, the star is actually cute.”

“True. I got unlucky with the selection,” Alexis admitted, digging hers out of her purse to show you a big square blue gem.

“I just wish there was a way to get back at him after all these years. I mean, we’ve been at each other’s throats for almost six years but nothing has ever seemed to really hit hard. This is the last year I’ve got to really make it count.”

Alexis gave you a look, one you knew to be quite mischievous. 

“You know what’s the best way to get revenge on a guy?” Alexis asked.

“Uh, no, but by the look you’re giving me it seems to fall under Carrie Underwood ’before he cheats’ directive.”

“No, dumbass. You make his family fall in love with you.”

It took a second to process what she said before you could give a decent reply.

“You’re kidding right? His family already knows who I am because of all the stuff we’re in together. They probably also know about our rivalry. I mean, he’s told his brothers to never become friends with me.”

“And you know that, how?”

“The libero is Sam’s girlfriend. She’s been spilling tea for me for the past year.”

There was a break in the conversation as the waiter brought your meals out. Once he was gone, you spoke up again.

“Look, do you really think that would work? I mean sure I’d get under his skin, but it doesn’t really constitute revenge, does it?”

“Look at it this way,” Alexis put down her burger so she could splay her hands out in front of her. “If you can get on everyone else's good side, they’ll all talk about how much they love you and he’ll be forced to listen. If he really hates you, it’ll drive him crazy.”

You thought on it for a minute as you chomped on a chicken tender. 

“Alright, I’m in. If it doesn’t end up working, I still have all of next semester to mess with him anyways. Now if I can just figure out how to really get to know his family…”

%

By the time Monday rolled around, you and Alexis had done some more scheming, but your plan wouldn’t even begin to be put in action until your volleyball games Wednesday and Friday, when you’d try to talk to Sam.

You sat down in home ec, where today you’d be picking careers. The catch, however, was that your family unit would have a set income, so each couple had to decide how it would be split up.

“Y/l/n-Holland family, you’ll be making $200k a year,” Mrs. Flynn announced, handing you the slip of paper. “Get together and decide who’s getting what jobs.”

“At least we’ll be rich,” you thought as Tom plopped into the seat next to you unhappily.

“So I’ll be the doctor and you’ll be the trophy wife, right?” he asked immediately.

“Hah, good one. I think we all know that I’m the smarter one here and wayyyy more likely to get into med school than you. And don’t call me trophy wife. I mean, what, you think I’m hot now? Can’t wait to tell everyone that little number.”

His ears turned beet red and he balled a fist.

“I don’t think you’re hot, except maybe hot shit. It’s a figure of speech.” he spat.

“Oh get over yourself. I know I’m hot anyways. Let’s just both pick jobs that earn $100k so we can be equal. How’s that sound?” 

“Fine.”

He played with the plastic ring on his necklace as you looked up jobs on the computer. After a half hour of searching, Tom and you decided that to be fully equal, you’d both take the same job as physician’s assistants.

“Just so you know, I’ll never actually be anyone’s assistant,” he said.

“Oh yeah? Ten years time if you’re lucky I’ll hire you as mine.”

He rolled his eyes. 

“Hey everyone, since class is almost over, we’re gonna wait to draw how many kids you’ll have and other financial things Wednesday. See you then!” Mrs. Flynn called out as students packed their things.

“We have to have kids, too?” Tom asked incredulously.

“Good thing it’s fake. I’d hate to see you as a parent,” you shot smugly, earning another middle finger from him that left you laughing.

%

Wednesday came kids, and thankfully all you got were twin girls, age 9. The project didn’t make you carry around flour babies or anything like that, you just had to account for them in your weekly budgets. 

There goes the annulment plan, though.

Each week, Mrs. Flynn would be drawing something new for you all that would either be good or bad for your budgets, and it was up to you to figure out what to with the funding, or lack thereof. You also had to come up with a story each week that explained why money was put somewhere or what your “family” did that week. 

 She would also be doing progress checks, so you couldn’t wait until the end of the semester to do all the work. By the end, each couple would have to give a presentation over what they did and learned.

“Okay, so we each get to name one. That’s pretty equal,” you stated, thinking up baby names.

“Well I like Elizabeth,” he almost immediately replied, writing it down on one of the “birth certificates” you’d been handed by Mrs. Flynn.

“That’s… surprisingly good. I’ll go with Francesca. What about middle names? I like Rose.”

“Hm. How about Opal? Then they’ll have the same number of letters in their names.”

You were surprised at how much though he put into this, but let it go as you wrote your child’s name down.

“By the way, we need to plan time to get together and write a budget and find a house this weekend. I have a volleyball game Friday so how about Saturday?”

“I have football practice Saturday.”

“Well yeah but only until like 10 right? We could just meet at like 1. We’re doing construction at my house right now so could we do it at yours?” 

You spoke sweetly in an attempt to receive a yes and put your plan into motion. Tom sighed and thought about it.

“I mean I guess. But you’re only going to be there to work on the project and then leave right?”

“Uh, duh. The less time with you the better.”

“Likewise.”

%

Tom and Sam weren’t at the volleyball game Wednesday, so you had to wait until Friday’s.

Friday was muffin day in home ec, so you thankfully didn’t have to talk to Tom. Instead, you and Alexis discussed the plan of getting Tom’s family on your side as you mixed up batter.

Later that afternoon, you watched from afar as Sam and his girlfriend, Julia, sat on the bleachers speaking. It was still an hour until game time and coach had asked you to round up the girls for stretching.

“Hey, Jules!” you called, jogging over to where she was. “Oh, hey Sam!” He looked at you like you were crazy before responding.

“Uh, hey y/n.” He gave a slight head nod.

“Anyways, coach wants us to start warming up. Wanna be my partner today?” 

“Um yeah. Sure. See ya later babe,” she said, giving Sam a quick peck on the cheek before standing up to follow you.

After another win, you were helping take down the net and noticed Julia once again talking to Sam while Tom stood a few feet away looking bored. 

“Hey, could you wrap up the net? I need to do something real quick,” you said to another teammate as you headed over.

“Hey, Jules! Solid digs today! You were making my job way too easy,” you joked.

You could see from the corner of your eye Tom look up at you in annoyance.

“Ahaha thanks girl. But I can’t take all the credit. You were on fire tonight. What was that like 15 aces? And your hits? Incredible,” she replied.

“Yeah, you were amazing tonight,” Sam added. 

“Ohhhkay we can stop the compliment parade on y/n now. We need to go anyways, Sam, mom wants us home,” Tom interjected, putting an arm out in front of his brother, who was rolling his eyes.

“Alright fine. We still on for dinner tomorrow?” Sam asked his girlfriend. She nodded and they exchanged a quick hug and kiss.

“I’ll see you tomorrow too, Tom,” you said. “I’ll bring my laptop.” 

Sam looked at him in confusion.

“Yeah whatever,” was all Tom could say to you as you strutted off to the locker room.

%

You stood nervously on the front porch of Tom’s suburban home. You had texted him when you parked but now dreaded actually going inside. 

After shifting back and forth for a minute, you finally rang the doorbell. 

It was only a few seconds later that the door opened, revealing Sam’s twin Harry. He looked confused.

“Y/n? What are you doing here?” 

“Hey Harry. Tom and I are supposed to be working on a school project today and he said to come over at this time so...” You awkwardly shifted your backpack straps and looked down.

“Tom! Someone’s here to see you!” he yelled out, making you snort.

He appeared shirtless in the doorway and looked at you blankly.

“Oh. It’s just you.”

“Just me? What did you just forget that we have to work on our project today,” you replied, holding up your left hand to point to the plastic ring on it.

“You’re still wearing that? Why?”

“Firstly, the little star is cute. And secondly, you don’t have a lot of room to speak, Tom. Yours is still on your necklace,” you pointed to the chain around his neck, to which he instinctively reached up and grabbed the ring, twisting it between his fingers. 

“Touche. Now come on, let’s just get this over with.” He opened the door wider and let you in, locking it behind you. 

As he led you down a hall covered in photos towards the stairs, his mom stepped out, almost running into her son.

“Oh, sorry.” she looked at you, “Y/n? What are you doing here? It’s nice to see you.”

“Nice to see you too, Mrs. Holland. Tom and I have to work on our home ec project and we couldn’t do it at my house.”

“Oh dear just call me Nikki. And I do remember him mentioning something about a project. Are you the one he’s married to? I never thought I’d see the day.”

Tom tensed up and clenched his jaw while you gave a light chuckle, holding up your left hand again.

“I hate to say it, but yeah. You’ll probably be seeing a lot more of me throughout the semester.”

“Well you kids have fun. And Tom, honey, would it kill you to put on a shirt?”

He went red again and you had to stifle your laughter.

“I was just on my way to do that, mom. Come on y/n,” he mumbled, grabbing your wrist and dragging you up the stairs.

You turned and waved at Nikki one last time as she called up behind him,

“And make sure to keep the door open!”

He was totally embarrassed by that, and made it a point to shut the door behind him once you made it to his room. Finally you could let out a hearty laugh at his expense as he dug through his drawers and pulled out a simple black t-shirt.

“Finally. I was getting tired of looking at your man boobs,” you quipped, looking around the room.

“Ha ha. Good one,” he shot back dryly. 

You were surprised at what his room looked like, though you didn’t know what you’d expected. It was very neat with sleek grey walls. His blue and grey bedding was made up with decorative pillows laid out. On his desk were a few random school papers and a computer, and one shelf held some Spider-Man paraphernalia while another contained medals and ribbons and trophies. 

You dropped your backpack to the ground and pointed up at one figurine.

“Hey, that’s pretty cool,” you said sincerely.

“Yeah, I’m sure you think so,” he replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

“Uh, no. I’m serious. It’s actually really dope.” 

He looked taken aback at your compliment, and even to you it felt weird to be saying that out loud about Tom of all people.

“Oh. Well uh. Thanks. Spider-Man was my favorite growing up. But let’s just get to work.”

After an hour of sitting on his carpet searching for a house and arguing over general money allocations,

“Yes Tom, tampons actually cost like $7 for 30 of them and most girls need at least one box a month. And that’s just one factor of personal hygiene. Do you even condition your hair?”

“I’ll have you know my hair is well moisturized. I just don’t ever have to pay for it.”

You finally came to an agreement on the week’s budget. 

Packing up your things, you looked up at Tom who was now sitting on the side of his bed scrolling through social media.

“So next week. Your first game of the season, yeah?” you said, remembering that September was already almost here. 

“Oh yeah. You coming? I’d hate for you to see just how incredible I am.”

“Psh whatever. I saw your throws at preseason. But yeah, I’ll probably just rinse off after my volleyball game and head to the field. Gotta see what cuties they’ve got on the other team.”

“Ugh gross. You know you’ll regret saying that when half the school is swooning over me in the stands.”

“The only thing you’d ever see me swoon from is dehydration. And that’s a pretty weak excuse already.”

You stood and Tom got up to lead you back out.

“Oh, I think I know the way. You don’t have to take me.”

“Yeah I do. Gotta keep my eyes on those grubby little fingers of yours. Who knows what you’d do unsupervised.”

Before you reached the door, Nikki spotted you from the living room.

“Done so soon? Wow, good job guys. Come back any time y/n!”

“Thanks, Nikki,” you called back to her, then turned to Tom. “So same time next week? We can do it at my place if you want.”

“Nah let’s just do it here. I’m always exhausted the day after a game and I don’t really want to get up.”

Okay then

“Well, see ya Monday then. Bye.”

You were halfway down the sidewalk when Tom called out, “Be safe,” before shutting the door. You stopped in your tracks in shock, but eventually got into your car.

What really mattered, though, was that you were already on Nikki’s good side.

1 down, 4 to go.

%

Yay! It’s finished! I really hope you guys enjoy this new series because I’m so excited to share it with you all! Once again, future chapters will have some mature content (s*xual harassment and mentions of assault; underaged alcohol consumption) but those chapters will be explicitly labeled with warnings.

Anyways, thanks for reading and please send an ask or message if you’d like to join my story or permanent tag list!

Tag List: @jackiehollanderr, @one-big-fangirl,

[transparenttriumphzombie]

Lili Elbe (born December 28, 1882 in Vejle , Denmark as Einar Mogens Andreas Wegener [1] ; † September 12, 1931 in Dresden , Germany ) was a Danish painter . She was probably one of the first intersex people to undergo gender reassignment surgery in 1930/31 . Lili Elbe had operations first in Berlin and then three more times in Dresden. 

The writer Niels Hoyer writes in his book A Man Changes His Sex: A Life Confession that Lili Elbe was born with both male and female organs. 

Gerda Wegener

: Lili Elbe, ca.1928

Lili Elbe and Gerda Gottlieb met as students at the Royal Danish Academy of Art in Copenhagen and married in 1904. Elbe specialized in landscape and architectural painting, while Gottlieb opted for illustration and fashion graphics. In order to expand their sphere of activity, they moved to Paris in 1912 , where Gerda could also live out her lesbian orientation and Lili could live out her female identity more freely.

Around 1913 it became known that the model for Gerda's fashionable figurines was a phenotypic man who called himself Lili Elbe. Only the closest friends knew that Lili Elbe was identical to Einar Wegener; Gerda Wegener introduced Lili to strangers as her husband's sister. In 1930 Lili Elbe decided to finally make the physical adjustment to the perceived gender . In February 1930 she followed Kurt Warnekros' instructions and went to Berlin. The Institute of Sexology of Magnus Hirschfeld in Berlin led the gender reassignment surgeryby. The first operation took place in a practice in Berlin. Then Elbe went to the Dresden women's clinic. On May 26, 1930, Kurt Warnekros performed a second operation.

As a result of the sex reassignment operations, the marriage was annulled by the Danish king; Elbe received papers in its new name.

A few months after the fourth operation in 1931, complications arose, probably due to transplant rejection , from which Lili Elbe died. [4] [5] She was buried on the Dresden Trinity Cemetery in Dresden-Johannstadt in the IIC field.

New tombstone 2016. Lili Elbe's grave, which was leveled in the 1960s, was restored in 2016. The new tombstone was funded by Focus Features , the production company for The Danish Girl . 

Lili Elbe's life story Fra mand til kvinde (From man to woman) first appeared in Danish in 1931, was translated into German, published in Dresden in 1932 and then in London in 1933 in English in a translation from the German version . In 1953 a second unabridged edition was published in New York; the most recent edition in English is from 2004. The book by Niels Hoyer (d. i. Ernst Harthern ) was published in German in 1954 by the Tauchnitz-Verlag under the title "Change - a life confession" 

For Jan Morris , the book she discovered in a bookstore in Ludlow was "the first confirmation that there were other people in the world who were in exactly the same position as me." 

In 2000 David Ebershoff wrote a novel about Lili Elbe and Gerda Wegener (in the book as American painter Greta Waud) with the title The Danish Girl (original title The Danish Girl ). It has been translated into a dozen languages ​​and has been an international bestseller.

The film adaptation of the same name by Tom Hooper premiered on September 5, 2015 at the Venice International Film Festival . Eddie Redmayne plays Lili and Alicia Vikander plays Gerda. At the 2016 Academy Awards , Redmayne was nominated for Best Actor , and Vikander was named Best Supporting Actress.

In November 2013 the Lili Elbe Archive was founded in Berlin as an "independent place for the transmission of one's own history of non-normative gender"; worn by an association of the same name. 

Fra mand til kvinde , 1931

A person changes his gender: a life confession, edited from papers left behind by Niels Hoyer . Translated from the Danish original Fra Mand til Kvinde by Ernst Narthern-Jacobson. DNB entry Reissner, Dresden 1932

Man into woman: the first sex change, a portrait of Lili Elbe: the true and remarkable transformation of the painter Einar Wegener / edited by Niels Hoyer , translated from the German by HJ Stenning. 1933

Man into woman: An authentic record of a change of sex; The true story of the Danish painter Einar Wegener (Andreas Sparre) / [Lili Elbe] , edited by Niels Hoyer, from the German version A man changes his gender into English translated by HJ Stenning. Popular Library, New York 1953 (2nd unabridged edition)

Change - a life confession , edited by Niels Hoyer, Tauchnitz Stuttgart 1954.

Man into woman: the first sex change, a portrait of Lili Elbe: the true and remarkable transformation of the painter Einar Wegener . Blue Boat Books, London 2004, ISBN 978-0-9547072-0-0 .

David Ebershoff (2000): The Danish Girl , Weidenfeld & Nicolson, London 2000, German: The Danish Girl , Goldmann, Munich 2000, ISBN 978-3-442-30843-9 .

Literature [ Edit | Edit source ]

Susanne Kailitz (2012): The Experiment. In 1930 the Dresden gynecologist Kurt Warnekros carried out one of the world's first sex reassignments. Now this is the material for a feature film - with Nicole Kidman . In: Die Zeit , January 12, 2012.

Sabine Meyer (2010): With the doll's pram into normative femininity. Lili Elbe and the journalistic staging of transsexuality in Denmark . In: Northern Europe Forum . 20 (2010: 1-2), pp. 33-61.

Rainer Herrn (2005): Patterns of the sex. Transvestism and Transsexuality in Early Sexology . Psychosozial Verlag, Gießen (Lahn) 2005, ISBN 3-89806-463-8 , page 204 ff.

Harald Neckelmann : The story of Lili Elbe. A person changes his gender. Bebra Verlag, Berlin 2019, ISBN 978-3-89809-163-3

 - Collection of images, videos and audio files

Biography of Lili Elbe at the Federal Magnus Hirschfeld Foundation

Gerda Wegener - a photo album ( Memento from October 5, 2013 in the Internet Archive ) (in English)

Article about Gerda Wegener and Lili Elbe in the New York Times (in English)

Einar Wegener on artnet

Review of the English version of Lili Elbe's autobiography , oiiaustralia.com , April 17, 2009 (in English)

Lili Elbe (Einar Wegener) 1882–1931 , danmarkshistorien.dk (in Danish)

[harperhug]

In case the article gets paywalled:

What Good Is 'Raising Awareness?'

Just being educated about diseases isn't enough to make people healthier.

In 2010, a strange meme spread across Facebook. People’s feeds were suddenly filled with one-word statuses saying the name of a color, nothing more. And most of these posts were from women.

The women had received messages from their Facebook friends that were some variation on this, according to The Washington Post: "Some fun is going on ... just write the color of your bra in your status. Just the color, nothing else. It will be neat to see if this will spread the wings of breast cancer awareness. It will be fun to see how long it takes before people wonder why all the girls have a color in their status. Haha."

Oh, okay. It was for breast cancer awareness. Except, no, wait—how? The Susan G. Komen Foundation had nothing to do with it, though it did get them some Facebook fans, according to the Post story. It wasn’t clear at all who started it. There was no fundraising component to the campaign. And the posts weren’t informative at all. In fact, their whole point was to be mysterious. Maybe people asked their friends what they meant by just posting “beige” or “green lace” and then they had a meaningful conversation about breast-cancer screenings and risk factors, but I’d guess that happened rarely, if at all.

This incident is just one example of the nebulous phenomenon of “raising awareness” for diseases. Days, weeks, months are dedicated to the awareness of different health conditions, often without a clear definition of what “awareness” means, or what, exactly, is supposed to come of it.

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According to a commentary published this month in the American Journal of Public Health, the United States has almost 200 official “health awareness days.” (The U.S. Department of Health and Human Services lists all national health observances on its website.) And that’s not counting all the unofficial ones, sponsored by organizations.

The paper was an attempt to begin to investigate whether awareness days actually improve people’s health. Jonathan Purtle, an assistant professor at Drexel University’s School of Public Health, teamed up with Leah Roman, a public-health consultant, to see whether awareness could even be quantified.

“We both kind of anecdotally observed that there seem to be more [awareness days] than ever,” Purtle says. “In public health, and in medicine, we’re putting more and more emphasis on evidence-based practices. Everything should be informed by science in some way. We asked ourselves, has anybody ever evaluated these things, do we know if they’re effective at all?”

The answer: Not many people have, and we really don’t.

Awareness days do seem to be on the rise, by at least a couple measures—the researchers found that more than 145 bills including the words “awareness day” have been introduced in U.S. Congress since 2005, a huge leap compared with previous years. Articles that reference "awareness day"  in the PubMed database have followed a similar, but less extreme, upward trajectory.

Trends in Attention to Awareness Days in U.S. Congress and Health Science Literature

But most of the articles Purtle and Roman found in their search (which was just preliminary, not a systematic metareview) were editorials or commentaries announcing or discussing awareness days. Only five studies empirically evaluated the effects of an awareness day, “but the designs weren’t that rigorous,” Purtle says. The best one, according to Purtle, found that on “No Smoking Day” in the U.K., five times more people called a quit smoking hotline than the daily average. “But that was about it,” Purtle says.

So evidence really is lacking on what good these awareness days do.

Liz Feld, president of the nonprofit advocacy organization Autism Speaks, says she has seen results from World Autism Awareness Day, which was April 2, and Autism Awareness Month, which goes on for all of April. The organization has raised more than $10 million so far in April, more than 50,000 people registered on Autism Speaks’ website, and more than 18,000 buildings around the world illuminated with blue lights on April 2 as part of the “Light it Up Blue” campaign. A spokesperson also told me that “Light it Up Blue” was a trending topic on Facebook and Twitter on April 2.

The money is something concrete that came out of the awareness month, but what about the rest?

“One-third of people who live with autism are nonverbal,” Feld says. “The power of a global blue-light movement is very strong. On that day, that is the collective voice of the autism community. That’s a show of power. The blue lights are really a voice.”

Here, "awareness" seems to mean sending a message, getting attention, and getting people to talk about the issue, at the very least on social media. During the week of the most recent World AIDS Day, December 1, 2014, AIDS.gov got the most engagement and new followers of the entire year, Miguel Gomez, the director of AIDS.gov, told me in an email. Perhaps not coincidentally, the organization’s HIV Testing and Care Service Locator got nearly triple its average traffic on December 1.

Social-media activism gets a lot of criticism, some of it deserved, some of it less so. (There's even a somewhat pejorative term for it: slacktivism.) On one hand, it’s an easy way to reach a lot of people, and it often amplifies the voices of the marginalized. On the other hand, changing your profile picture for an awareness day (something Autism Speaks asked people to do for Light It Up Blue) might just be the smallest possible unit of support for a cause. If not backed up by money or deed, it’s little more than lip service. But lip service is not nothing—if enough people do it, it could help shift cultural norms, as Melanie Tannenbaum wrote in Scientific American, about people supporting marriage equality by making equals signs their profile pictures.

“Based on everything that we know about our brains and their bafflingly strong desires to fit in with the crowd, the best way to convince people that they should care about an issue and get involved in its advocacy isn’t to tell people what they should do—it’s to tell them what other people actually do,” Tannenbaum writes. “And you know what will accomplish that? That’s right. Everyone on Facebook making their opinions on the issue immediately, graphically, demonstrably obvious.”

With a controversial issue like marriage equality, enough equals signs on Facebook pages could send the message that this is a common cause to support, and just maybe, gather more support, in a snowball-rolling-down-a-hill sort of way. The thing is, though, that with diseases, everybody’s pretty much already on the same side. There aren’t pro-cancer people who need convincing to come around.

“The question I would ask Autism Speaks or someone who's doing some sort of initiative like ‘Make your picture blue,’ is how they think that will trickle down into some sort of positive outcome for people with autism,” Purtle says.

So I asked.

“First of all, anyone who takes the time to change their picture, they feel invested, like they’re part of something,” Feld says. “That’s the culture we live in now. It’s a way for them to participate. It creates a sense of a community, it really goes back to that. People like to be part of something, look at the ALS ice-bucket challenge. They wanted to be part of something that was bigger than themselves. It’s free, it makes you happy, it makes you feel like you're doing something.”

But Feld recognizes that this isn’t enough.

“You’ve got to follow it up with something else,” she says. “What comes with raising awareness is a responsibility to do something about what you’re aware of. I always say to people, ‘April 2nd is great but what happens April 3rd?’”

When so much is vying for people’s attention, especially online, including the couple hundred other awareness days, even if you get people to listen, how do you get them to do more than just post a status?

There is a sociological theory called narcotizing dysfunction, which proposes that the more people learn about an issue from the media, the less likely they are to do something about it. Purtle and Roman posit that this might be an unintended effect of awareness days, that people might “conflate being knowledgeable about a health issue with taking action to address it.” It’s not enough to just say “this is a problem, and we need to do something about it.” There are a lot of problems in the world that need doing something about.

So in addition to awareness-raising, to try to get people to do something, Autism Speaks fundraises and asks people to sign petitions. “[When we try] to get corporate sponsors, I always tell people here, you can’t just go pitch this as a moral imperative,” Feld says. “There are a lot of moral imperatives. An effective awareness day has got to give people a window into what a real person who's living with autism is going through. My goal is for people to see the face of someone with autism on Autism Awareness Day, so that they carry that with them on April 3rd, April 4th, April 5th.”

Awareness days wouldn’t be so popular if there weren’t an appetite to address health problems. “People want to do something, which is good,” Purtle says. What he worries is that awareness campaigns’ focus on the individual—what you need to know, what you can do—could reinforce existing troublesome ideas about the origins of health, especially with conditions like obesity and heart disease, where lifestyle is a big risk factor.

A lot of people believe, he says, that “it’s really people’s choices that determine their health outcomes and if they’re unhealthy it's either: 1. They made bad choices, or 2. They’re just unlucky and have some genetic thing. These awareness [days] seem to be reinforcing that if you’re aware of the health issue, it’s a good step, and it might be even sufficient to address the health issue. That really flies in the face of the complexity of the various forces that influence a person’s health and a population’s health.”

Those forces include environmental, societal, and economic factors—things that can’t be fixed with knowledge alone. “I think if more people understood that, perhaps we’d see awareness days looking a little bit different,” Purtle says. A better awareness day, he thinks, would spread information about the prevalence of a condition and its risk factors, as well as policy changes that could lessen disparities or help people living with the condition.

“Neither Leah nor I think awareness days are necessarily a bad thing, nor is awareness a bad thing,” Purtle says. “Awareness can be a first step toward changing behavior, but in my opinion, more importantly it would be a first step to positively address the policies that impact a population's health.”