#but that's not something i can do as a student in prague | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wishbonetea · 3 years

Text

it's finally here! after starting this project in 2019, Of Smoke & Bone is now being posted to AO3. to celebrate, i've written a bonus scene (under the cut) to give y'all a taste of what i've been working on for the last couple years...

SUMMARY

In general, Neil Josten managed to keep his two lives in balance. On the one hand, he was a nineteen year old art student in Prague with a part-time job in a mostly-normal coffee shop. On the other, he, Allison, and Renee worked for an inhuman creature, running errands in exchange for wishes. For the most part, these two lives rarely intersect. But it's fair to say that the Foxes bring their own brand of trouble, and Neil's two lives soon start to collide.

[ read the full fic on AO3 ] [ more about Of Smoke & Bone can be found on my writing page ]

By nine o’clock that evening, Neil had written several more paragraphs of his dreaded critical theory essay—who was he kidding? Neil hadn’t a clue what he was talking about and his tutor would easily pick up on Neil’s complete misunderstanding of Dada. But he was reaching the word count and hopefully he could just push it up to a passing grade. He was just about to save the word document and make a cup of ramen noodles when his phone buzzed on the table beside him.

Andrew: Sculpture studio 3

Neil’s heart-rate quickened. The sculpture studios? Did Andrew already have something in mind? Neil didn’t have much experience in three-dimensional work but he was keen to branch out his skill-set. A multi-disciplinary project would be a good addition to his portfolio for both grading at the end of the year and for future commissions. He didn’t bother replying to Andrew’s message and instead gathered his bag. It wasn’t until after he filled his bag with his sketchbook and laptop that he remembered he still needed to save his essay progress, so he then pulled his laptop out again to do so. Grabbing his coat and slinging it over his bag to keep his hands free, Neil headed over to the Sculpture department in the Myslbek building.

Neil managed to find the third Sculpture studio by following a bunch of vague signposts dotted around the department, and swung open the door to an empty and dusty room with desks and chairs pushed to the walls, a grimy sink in the corner, and a series of wheeled-trolleys that students could use for their own materials when jumping from one desk to another.

It didn’t take him long to realise that he wasn’t alone. Even if he wasn’t expecting Andrew, Neil thought that he would have guessed who it was; the intensity of Andrew’s stare on his back set Neil’s nerves on edge.

“Did no one tell you I hate surprises?” Andrew asked from somewhere behind him.

Neil turned slowly to find Andrew sitting on one of the desks, legs crossed in a lotus-style similar to Renee’s yoga position but without the straight-backed posture, and he was staring Neil down.

“What makes you think I care?” Neil asked.

“This is not about whether you care or not,” Andrew said.

“So what is this about?” Neil took off his bag and pulled out his sketchbook, letting his bag and coat fall to the floor. He would have to brush off the dust before Allison let Neil bring either back into their apartment, but he didn’t think there would be a single room in the Sculpture department that wasn’t covered in clay dust or plaster. Neil set his sketchbook on the nearest table, pulled up a chair, and started flicking through it until he found the original sketch of Ztuart. He didn’t want to push too much. If Andrew picked up on Neil’s eagerness, he would likely feign disinterest out of spite. Neil heard Andrew uncrossing his legs and sliding off the desk, and then heard his footsteps as he walked toward Neil. Andrew kept just out of arm’s reach from where Neil was sitting, but not by much. The change from Andrew’s usual way of taking up space made Neil wonder what it was Andrew was suddenly wary of.

“Couldn’t wait until March?” Neil asked. “Did you realise I wasn’t a maths problem to solve or a new toy to break?”

“I’m rather curious, Neil,” Andrew started, putting emphasis on his name and cocking his head at the slight twitch on Neil’s face. “Nicky won’t shut up about your little adventures: skipping classes and turning up several days later with some very far-fetched excuses. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without that coat, as if it’s the only thing you really own. Some things don’t always add up, but I think you do. What are you running from, rabbit?”

“Is it that curious? People have jobs, and my shifts don’t always line up with class schedules.”

“And what exactly is it that you do, Neil?” Andrew hummed. “Customer service?” He shook his head. “Terrible manners. Stocking shelves? Too short. The thing is, I’m starting to believe you work for the Wishmonger.”

If Neil had seen this coming, he would have had time to think of the perfect retort to throw Andrew off his trail, but he hadn’t considered that he was in any immediate danger. All it took was a year and a half of living with Allison and Neil had lost all his survival instincts and his ability to think on his feet. Coaxing air back into his lungs was the hardest thing Neil had ever done. It was a miracle his breath sounded so steady when his throat was closing up.

“Mind your own business,” Neil said, which wasn’t even remotely clever but it was the best he had. He lurched to his feet, but Andrew darted forward to grab him by his hair and slam him back into his seat. A cruel twist pulled his head back at a dangerous angle, and Andrew slammed Neil’s hand flat against the table top before he could reach for the knife in his boot. Neil lifted his other hand to pry Andrew’s fingers off, but Andrew let go of Neil’s hair and caught his wrist with his other hand.

“Tonight is Mind Neil’s Business Night,” Andrew said. “Didn’t you notice? Give me something real or I won’t let you stay here.”

Neil managed to slip one hand free and he reached for the knife at his waistband but Andrew was too close to his body to not see it coming. He easily grabbed the knife off Neil and sent it skidding across the floor.

“Another knife, hm? I figured you’d just try to rip my teeth out with pliers,” Andrew mused.

“Maybe I will and wish for you to leave me alone,” Neil seethed.

“Renee said you wouldn’t like this,” Andrew taunted. Neil froze and Andrew’s smile was a cold and dangerous thing. “She didn’t tell you? She said I should trust you, and yet you just tried to stab me. I think she’s a little delusional about who she should trust.”

Neil raked his memory trying to find any signs of what Andrew was and how he knew Renee; if she had betrayed him after all. And Allison? Had his entire life here been a trap, lulling Neil into a false sense of security only to be finally handed over to his father by an unhinged… whatever Andrew was.

Andrew realised that Neil wasn’t going to respond, so he tried encouraging him to talk by pulling out his own knife from an armband and pressing it to Neil’s throat. “Now, you’re going to explain why you’re here and what you want, and I won’t put this through your throat.”

Neil felt his father’s smile curve his lips. “Do it. I dare you.” After all, if he was to be sent to his father, a slit throat would be a much more pleasant way to die. If he wasn’t, and Renee and Allison were his allies, then Renee would glean his soul and bring him back. Hopefully. She would have to find his body first.

“If I can’t get an answer from you, I’ll get it wherever I can. How about I start with Goldilocks?”

“Good luck with that, she’d set one of her snakes on you before you could get one word out.”

“Sounds messy. How many wishes does it take to clean up after?”

Neil ignored that. “What do you want? I’m not a threat to you.”

“Then correct me. You think it over. Think how badly you want to try my patience right now.”

“You’ve waited this far,” Neil said. “What would you have done if I hadn’t come down here to meet you?”

“There wasn’t a chance you wouldn’t meet me down here. You have a one track mind.” Andrew tapped the tip of his knife against Neil’s pulse-point. “Besides, down here I get to do this.”

Neil paused for a moment, thinking out possible scenarios and how he thought Andrew might react to them. If Andrew really thought Neil was a threat, how far would he go to prove it? Neil didn't want to see what came next, but avoiding that meant compromising. He had to tell Andrew something. The truth was out of the question, but Andrew would smell a lie a mile away. What Neil needed was something in-between, enough for Andrew to back off but not too much that he realised exactly what kind of threat followed Neil’s every breath.

His eventual decision made his blood run cold, but it was the safest option, and the smartest. Neil twisted his hands under Andrew’s grasp until they lay palms up, the black ink of his kezir stark against the paler skin there. To anyone else, they looked like tattoos. To Neil, they were something else entirely. Neil could only hope that Andrew fell into the former category. Tattoos were much easier to explain.

“Truth for truth?”

#wishboneverse: of smoke and bone #aftg #aftg fic #art #animation #my art #my writing

155 notes · View notes

neverthelesstheinvisibleelf-blog · 2 years

Text

Writing about Epilepsy

@silver-stargazing @the-twitchy-life @fuckepilepsy @gomaduck and of course @justepilepsy @the-epileptic-toh-blog @hiimholalate thank you all for your kind answers about my question on absence seizures

It really helped me to actually approach writing something that I myself just never really experienced. (Which at first made me feel pretty uncomfortable.) I still don’t know if I actually managed to achieve it … but well I tried.

I also found the frivolous note about the hotness of the character very interesting and I might try to incorporate it at some point. (The main obstacle is that I myself do not really notice if or when people are physically attractive. I am much more drawn towards character traits that I find interesting. The other thing is that this story and this character is not a new thing it has been growing in my head for … a lot of years now. So, Fred just already exists. I just didn’t know much about his epilepsy before.)

Oh and as a psychology student who has performed testing on someone who was having an inpatient EEG because of suspected epilepsy. Yes, I can thoroughly imagine that that is one of the most boring days ever.

Also, thank you for the thoughts on control. I haven’t yet thought about it much but I will now!

I actually managed to write something! But I am really not sure if I managed to do you justice. So, if you have the time and the inspiration I would very much appreciate your feedback (because I probably fucked up at one point or another)

I hope this scene provides enough context. Because all of the context isn’t written yet. And the stuff that is written is over 40.000 words long… (Context can be found here or here) I just tried to explain it and it sounds way too boring…. just bother me if you want to know more!

The only really important thing is that it is about a group of friends who meet each other in a international exchange programme and lived together in Prague for a few years. This story takes place a few years after. And Ianna is a nickname for Lilli, so they are the same person. As is Rosie and Lynn and Princess Annmarie.

The room was surprisingly nice. The sofa Fred was sitting on reminded him of this one period film set in the Victorian age in England that his mom liked so much and the side table on his left looked like it was made from mahogany. On top of it was a lamp that looked so antique it easily could have been built with candles in mind, not the light bulb it now held and the artwork in golden frames looked like it could also adorn the walls of an art gallery.

Malu hadn’t strayed from his side their entire way to the palace and didn’t say a wuff when they were led into this room. One guard had demanded for the husky to stay behind but Malu had just stared at him so intensely the guard forgot all about his demand. The dog needed to be with Fred, everybody was somehow convinced of that.

Now though, they were alone inside a pretty room, so Malu was investigating the floor-length velvet green curtains by the window. This indicated that he deemed the room safe. A notion Fred couldn’t really agree with yet.

It wasn’t really the holding cell Fred had expected to end up in. Actually, when he rushed to the palace entrance with more panic than a plan he had never once expected to be let in. But there was still no real evidence that this posh, lavish salon wasn’t just a very luxurious mock-up for a holding cell and any minute a policeman would enter holding an arrest warrant. Because the only reason he could imagine as to why he wasn’t sent away yet was also the reason he was pretty sure he would end up in jail by the end of the night.

Malu suddenly abandoned the curtains and came over to lay his head in Fred’s lap and whined. Fred smiled and started to scratch his dog’s ears. It didn’t really ease any of his worries but at least it gave his hands something to do.

He could hear a door opening behind and braced himself for the inevitable.

Fred blinked slowly. He felt a little foggy all of a sudden. In front of him was an undeniably elegant middle-aged woman in a form-fitting dark grey pants-suit who he swore wasn’t there a second ago. The headache behind his forehead was new as well. His brain somehow felt as if it was working at half the speed it normally did.

The woman gazed at him rather suspiciously and Fred slightly shook his head hoping to get rid of at least some of the confusion that had manifested so suddenly. Malu pressed his head into his hands a little more forcefully and the cloudy haze lifted just enough to catch what the woman was saying.

“...-pect a visit from a self-proclaimed friend of my daughters.” It sounded rather like the end of the question than the beginning.

Daughter? Was this Rosie’s mom? Holy Hell! Was this the queen? She surely would have introduce… He was missing a little time. Oh no… This couldn’t be happening!

This couldn’t be happening! He didn’t have a seizure in years! He had his medication and it’s been working… Had he taken his medication today? Did he even pack enough pills? He couldn’t really remember counting them. Ianna had interrupted…

Malu woofed at the same time as the queen asked rather sharply, “Excuse me! Do I need to repeat myself?” Fred couldn’t help himself but kept staring at her without a notable reaction. His mind insisted on only repeating his most unhelpful thoughts. This couldn’t be happening!

Malu whined again and the thoughts retreated for now. They would probably return to torture him at a later time. But even his unhelpful mind seemed to realise that this was not the time for worries. Fred lifted himself up and tried to exude all the professionalism that he might have absorbed in some internship or another.

The queen took a seat across from him and stared at him with calculating grey eyes. And Fred hoped that this meant that she would hear him out despite this less than stellar start to their conversation.

‘Don’t panic, Fred! Everything is going to be fine!’ He tried to tell himself while another - very unhelpful - part of his brain reminded him that hyperventilating was a very common seizure trigger. He couldn’t really do anything right now. And besides, he wasn’t really at a risk of injuring himself when he zoned out a few times now. It would just be even more embarrassing than the situation already was. So, everything was fine. Just continue as planned.

“I’m sorry. I spent the last day arguing with several people on the phone. And the day before I was on several different planes just to get here. My manners are usually better than this.” Fred was proud of himself. That wasn’t even a lie and at the same time a pretty believable excuse!

“My name is Frederic Eric Nyanda. I am a very new human rights lawyer and two days ago I was woken up by a very tearful and desperate call from one of my best friends who I am assuming is your daughter.” He summarised the basic reasons for his being here. (Conveniently leaving out the fact that his other best friend probably already broke into the palace.)

The queen was twirling something between her fingers and Fred recognized it as the ring he’d used to convince the palace guards to let him in. “And because my daughter is apparently such good friends with you - even though she never explicitly mentioned you - she entrusted you with her sigil ring?” The queen continued his train of thought.

“Erm… yes?” It sounded too much like a question to be considered believale. “So… she didn’t exactly give it to me… She forgot it at my place when she was visiting while I was getting my law degree in another city and when I wanted to give it back to her she told me to keep it…” Was that convincing? Or would he be tried for theft in addition to fraud now? Did this even qualify as fraud? He just knew too little about Losikan law!

The queen’s steel grey eyes regarded him closely as if she was deciding whether to throw him in the dungeon or entertain him for a little bit longer. (Did they even have dungeons here?) It felt like an enternity passed before she finally put the ring in her pocket and sat back on her chair.

“Another very intriguing coincidence is that our lawyer, Mrs. LeBlanc - and now you desperately need to speak with us already. Barely two hours after you got off the phone with her. This seems strange, doesn’t it Mr. Nyanda?”

The headache had gotten worse now. And Fred needed to blink a few more times to shake the exhaustion and convince his eyes to stay alert. Malu had put his paws on his legs and whined again. Fred distractedly fondled his ears and tried to convince him to lay down by his feet while he thought about what the queen had just said. The wording was kind of weird…or wait…

Did.. Did he have another seizure? He really should get a full night's sleep and take some medication as soon as possible. At least he didn’t seize while he was talking and he still didn’t miss any crucial information. He could still extrapolate. (At least he hoped so.)

Malu could finally be convinced to lay down his feet. He acted as if he were sleeping even if Fred could tell with one look that he was not. Despite everything the mere presence of the dog gave Fred hope that he would somehow manage to work through his foggy brain.

“Erm… Yes, that is correct. I agree that seems somewhat contradictory. But there were… unforeseen circumstances so -”

Suddenly the doors to the small sitting room burst open and a determined Ianna strutted in followed by two rather disgruntled but ultimately powerless guards. “We… we really couldn’t stop her!”, one of the guards tried to excuse the sudden interruption.

After taking one look at his friend, Fred immediately decided that he wouldn’t say a peep about his seizures. Explaining that he already had two seizures because of all the stress and sleeplessness (and because he might have missed some of his medication), was really not a good idea when Ianna already looked like she was on the warpath.

“What I wanted to say was that I could have waited. But she could not!” He finally explained to the queen, nonchalantly pointing his finger at Ianna. (This way she would hopefully be distracted from his own strange behaviour.)

The queen didn’t really listen to him. She was too distracted by the breach in security that was the entirety of Ianna. “Who are you?” She almost screamed at the intruder.

Lilli just smirked and answered overly friendly, “It’s nice to meet you, too!”. She bent down to pet Malu who merely looked up when he heard her voice. Then she sat down on the sofa beside Fred. “Sorry, Freddie-Boy but I really got bored out of my brain listening to you terrorizing people on the phone!”

Fred just sighed exaggeratedly (in the hopes that Lilli finally noticed how much of a pain she was to deal with) and buried his head in his hands. “Just so you know, I was going to meet with the royal family's lawyer tomorrow morning. But you already decided it was a better idea to break into the palace!”

Fred almost yelled that last part although he was sure that it wouldn’t really impress Ianna. The queen on the other hand raised an eyebrow. “I am guessing that you are another self-proclaimed friend of my daughter’s”, she said in Lilli’s direction.

Ianna just shrugged. “If your daughter is the very tiresome, increasingly annoying best friend I managed to acquire a few years ago then yes!” Then she turned to Fred. “And I was still right to break into this place because that stupid idiotka isn’t here!”

Fred felt like someone had purposely taken the ground from underneath his feet. “What do you mean she isn’t here? She called me and told me to come to Losnik!”

“She called you?” The queen asked, alarmed, suddenly sitting on the edge of her seat.

Lilli answered for him. “She called him crying on the phone two days ago. That’s the reason we came to Losnik in the first place. From what I could gather from her empty room and some notes in the waste bin, she left without thinking and only packed the essentials. I’m assuming you’ve been aware of that as well.”

The queen nodded. “Yes, we realised that morning that not only did she post a picture of her letter of abdication online, she also left the palace and possibly the country as well.” A little quieter she added. “Just when we thought we got her back… she vanished again.”

Ianna looked stoically into the air. “I am going to find her. There are only so many places Lynny would run to. It’s just a few theories that I will have to systematically falsify. Sooner or later, I will find her.”

The queen looked at her with tears in her eyes. Fred wasn’t sure if it was hope or fear glistening in her eyes. “Why would you do that?”

Lilli just shrugged. As always she was uncomfortable with such obvious displays of emotion. “I mean, she’s my best friend. I might not know where she is but she is crazy if she thinks I will stop before I find her.“

Fred turned to Lilli. “So, we’re looking for her. Where do we start?”

To his surprise Lilli just shook her head. “Not ‘we’, Fred. I will find Lynny. You will stay here.”

“What?” Fred was honestly surprised. (And worried. There was a reason for the clammy feeling in his chest. Ianna wasn’t really ok. And knowing the reason for that definitely didn’t make him feel any easier.) “I really can be helpful…”

“Freddie…” Lilli interrupted him calmly but surely. “She asked you to come to Losnik. She wanted you here. And whatever you might think…” She took a deep breath and squeezed his hand reassuringly. “She thought you could help here. You said she sounded desperate. It was important to her that someone she trusted implicitly was here to oversee everything when she decided that she couldn’t be. You have to stay.”

Fred kept his gaze locked on his hands and tried to stop them from shaking. There were only rare moments when he didn’t wish Ianna to be by his side. And leaving her to do something alone was never really something he enjoyed doing. No matter how capable she was. Now, it was even harder after all they went through a little over a year ago.

The queen looked at both of them imploringly. She stayed silent and only a curt nod of her head indicated that she agreed. (Maybe he wouldn’t end up in jail after all.) But her stoic way of surrendering to the fact that these two young people were very good friends of her daughter she never knew about reminded Fred that it was not always necessary to understand everything.

Fred sighed. “You’ve already decided, haven’t you? There’s nothing I could say to change your mind, anyway.”

Ianna smiled in this almost imperceptible way that always warmed Fred’s heart. “You might have been her friend first but whatever trouble she has run into - Lynny is my best friend. And I will not let her suffer alone if I can be there by her side!”, she explained. “And besides, you would only slow me down!”

Fred laughed even though he really didn’t feel like laughing. “But how will I know when you find her?”

The queen raised her eyebrows at that. “Couldn’t you just tell us?” She asked, rather confused by Fred’s obvious apprehension.

Fred laughed again this time more desperate than before. The headache had returned and he needed to blink a few times before he felt steady enough to talk again.

He didn’t let any of that deter him, though. “You would think so, right? The problem is that Ianna and Rosie have this kind of codex. They insist that either of them is still keeping a secret even when they tell the other. And on the flipside, there is no way of knowing what they told each other.”

Ianna was looking at him weirdly when he finished. “Freddie … I will not lie to you. I might not tell you where she is when I found her. But I will tell you that I have or haven’t found her. “

Only now Fred noticed that Malu had sat down in front of Ianna and she was calmly petting his head for a bit before she turned to him again. Then her gaze grew inquistory.

“You should probably call your neurologist and figure out how you can get your medication while you stay here. These seizures can not continue like this.”

(For more context, click here or go on the tag #the archangel programme)

#actually epileptic #epilepsy #writing #human rights lawyer #the archangel programme

19 notes · View notes

capseycartwright · 2 years

Note

Hi! I recently moved from the UK to Prague to study at uni for a year and am struggling with trying to make it feel like 'home'. I know you also live abroad and was wondering if you have any tips as you seem to be loving your time abroad. I've been living here for about 2 months now and don't feel like I'm really making the most of living in such a beautiful city.

Any help you could give would be greatly appreciated! ❤

LISTEN okay i've got you. i did my masters abroad in the netherlands, and those first two months were rough - i definitely went through the oh my god what have i DONE stage and i was super homesick and i wondered if it was the silliest idea i'd ever had. but i think the first thing you've got to remind yourself - and this can be a good and bad thing to think about - but you're only there for a year and a year in the grand scheme of your life is actually so short. like, i look back now and i am convinced my year abroad lasted all of five minutes.

and look - i am totally guilty of this too - but we all love to romanticise our years abroad and be like, wow, so cultured and cool and clever of me. sometimes its just hard and you've got to lean into that and let yourself be a little sad and homesick.

BUT!!! there's lots you can do to make yourself feel better and these are some of the things i did/do

decorate your room. i put off decorating mine for ages and it made me so sad, so i bought silly fairy lights and decorative pillows and printed photos of my friends and family and make it feel like home.

make yourself leave the house at least once a day. that's a life rule, frankly, but just getting outside and getting some fresh air and walking helps so much. call a friend while you walk, or listen to a podcast - or people watch. it's your home city for a year, at least - you're allowed to just exist in it, and not do anything exciting!

make a bucket list of the things you really want to do and see - like, museums or exhibitions or historical places or restaurants or cafes - and visit them. i knew, for me at least, when i left the city i studied in in the netherlands, i was never going to live there again, so i made it my aim to do all the things i wanted to there so i could never regret not doing them.

find a place you want to make your 'local' - be it a coffee shop, or a library, or whatever. it's exciting to find new places but the comfort of having somewhere you know, and you know the menu, and you like the vibe, always helps so much when you're homesick.

join expat groups!! honestly, some of the most interesting people i've met when abroad have been through random meet ups and groups (one of my best friends in the whole world i met because we were both in the city a few weeks before uni started and joined an international student meet up.) and also even if you don't meet anyone cool its something that keeps you busy!

walk around. the best way to get to know a city have it feel like home is walk around it - and don't use a map! let yourself get a bit lost and wander and just be there (and inevitably use a map to get home)

if there's like, a shop that sells your favourite foods from home, indulge every once in a while and buy something from there as a comfort. i may live in whats considered the home of chocolate but sometimes i buy cadburys to feel at home.

i think ultimately - just remember its only for a year, and it goes so quickly, so let yourself enjoy it. and it might not ever feel like home - as much as i loved living in the netherlands and love living in belgium now, neither place feels the same as my home in ireland. home can feel different in different places!

i hope you have a magnificent time!!! my year studying abroad fundamentally changed my life in the very best of ways and four years on people i met there are my best friends (even though we've not lived in the same place in four years) so i am mad jealous of you getting to have this experience!

#in which i ramble #this got long lmao i'm sorry i don't know if this is even helpful #asks #anon

10 notes · View notes

aquamotto · 3 years

Text

Polish School of Magic or what Rowling gets wrong about Poland

In short: many things.

The only mentions of polish wizards come from two instances - some Quidditch team (Grodzisk Goblins) and Hagrid’s visit to Europe (with some goblin mention, again).

Why goblins, anyway? There is no such creature in real polish mythology. Instead, there are much more Harry Potter-esque things such as: Beast of Krakow, Dragon of the Wawel Hill who is the most famous and ferocious creature in all Eastern Europe. The majestic power of this beast can only be matched with majestic power of its city of dwelling - Krakow, to put it simply, is the city of Polish kings.

Below: Krakow, the city of “goblins”, according to JKR:

But let me guess - goblin invokes this image of rudeness and primitivity that probably comes from british understanding of poles as construction workers and such. It is curious that nuanced portrayal of poor people that is reserved for characters like Snape is not allowed to poles. They are “goblins” but Snape is a “working class hero”.

What I will describe below, is my headcanon based on what I imagine Wizarding Poland to really be like, sans goblins and other imperialist fantasies but based on my own observation of Poland as both pole and outsider (because, unfortunately, I am both).

Personality, culture

Quidditch champion image as rude and loud lads couldn’t be farther from the truth. Polish wizards, much like their friends in neighboring Czech Republic, are wise, eccentric, philosophical and brave people. They have been blessed and cursed with difficult history (Such as Partition of Poland and German and Soviet Invasion) and know very well how to operate in secrecy. In fact, they are the most secretive of all european wizards and if muggle were to accuse them of witchcraft, they would deny the fact to their last breath. In the same time, polish wizards love magic and often risk everything to pursue their next magical experiment. They are prone to be idealistic and live with their head in the clouds, sometimes literally, which can lead to both troubles and brilliant inventions.

Some believe that Nicolaus Copernicus, the genius astronomer who placed the Sun at the center of the Universe, was a polish wizard (painting by polish artist Jan Matejko):

This image of genius, sudden discoveries and epiphanies is valued in Poland to the point that students of Polish School of Magic wear stars indicating their year on their uniforms - to honor Copernicus.

However, poles aren’t Ravenclaws in disguise - they are traditional, obedient and lawful people at the core and no polish wizard, even the smallest first year, would dare to cheek their headmaster or teacher the way Harry and co. do.

Teacher - student relationship is sacred in Poland and it’s almost like your second parent - someone to be treated with utmost respect. This can lead to quite harsh hierarchies in Wizarding Poland.

Looks

Polish wizards dress modestly, colorful suits Weasley Twins style are not for them. They can sometimes even look monk-like (or medieval knight-like) in appearance. Since Poland is filled with minor aristocracy called szlachta (and I am proud to belong to it, too*) many polish wizards openly wear their coat of arms on their clothes. (*If you are wondering whether I have a coat of arms - yes, I do).

Polish School of Magic uses dark red monk-like hoods with more normal suit under as an unifroms. Since they want to be the guardians of well respected traditions, it fits them.

This doesn’t mean that poles are somber, though. They can be playful but in their distinct, “I challenge you” way. They can be competitive and fiery to the highest degree, especially when their honor or honor of their school is involved. They are indeed the most patriotic of all wizards, thinking of themselves as separated not only from muggles but from foreigners too.

Relationship with muggles

Polish wizards do not like muggles very much but unlike Britain, it rarely comes in a form of hostility but rather patronizing and light mockery. Rather than valuing pure blood,poles just think of themselves as superior to muggles in intelligence.They are especially suspicious of muggle disrespect of culture and the past which leads to wizards thinking that muggles are morally and spiritually, rather than genetically, impure. However, there was never an attempt to deny muggleborns education - in fact, they are welcomed with open arms and often even relief - “Finally, another one of us!”. This makes them a bit closer to Grindelwald’s idea of superiority than Voldemort’s one.

Music

Anyone knows Chopin, the great french-polish composer and indeed, poles adore music. To the point that Polish School of Magic considers participation in a school choir mandatory. But highest praise is reserved for those who dare and pick up an instrument (be it violin, cello, horn, piano or something else) to join the School Orchestra. If Triwizard Tournament accepted Poland, they would arrive in most curious way possible - operating the giant musical machine which would look like a church organ mixed with piano and other instruments. The headmaster would play it and the students (dressed in cloaks) would accompany him with some strange melody to make the grandest entrance ever.

Polish School of Magic

Pictured below: Frombork

Thanks to Copernicus, magical astronomy and astrology are best subjects to learn in Polish School of Magic. Unlike their colleagues in Prague who are obsessed with alchemy, potions and dark arts, poles are more interested in the spiritual so they also value divination in any forms and defense against the dark arts. Since living in a country as difficult as Poland forces you to always be on your toes, teachers consider it important to teach their students nonverbal magic as soon as possible. They also encourage wandless magic and actually had a lot of luck with it (unlike other european schools). Thanks to a certain WW2 incident, they also offer a superior course of arithmancy (If you know what I am hinting at, well done!)

Pictured: Frombork Cathedral Bell Tower

Since poles are not very practical people, they don’t teach their students about Magical Creatures at all (aside from a side course on dangerous creatures such as dragons in DADA). This just doesn’t fit their heady aesthetics. Being honest and reliable people, they also dislike transfiguration - something about turning things into animals and other things strikes them as unnecessary cruel and even devilish. Being pious at the core, poles want magic to always come from the source of respect and light. That’s why almost all students leave the school with full patronuses - most common of which is a white eagle, of course - the symbol of Poland. Poles are often so patriotic that even their best memories are linked to their national identity!

Poles are also good at charms and make superb magical duellists. In fact, not many nations can best them in this regard, if any. It is thanks to their wandless magic, wordless spells, quickness of reaction and harsh discipline (almost military-like) instilled in them in their school.

Talking about discipline... Polish School of Magic’s discipline is indeed very strict. The school grounds are usually quiet, students know best not to laugh too loud, not to pull pranks or fool around needlessly. Spontanous duels are forbidden. Teachers love their work and always keep an eye on misbehaving individuals. Lazy, incompetent or misanthopic teachers don’t exist in Polish School of Magic. Instead they can be overly strict, demanding, mocking, conservative and overly eccentric. (This one is based on real life experience, everyone.)

Below: Ksiaz castle

Teachers in Polish School of Magic lean old and getting a place there is very difficult and demands tons of connections. They also lean male but not just because of prejudice (although, unfortunately, such prejudice exists - Poland is a country of soldiers in many ways), because DADA course there is especially harsh and physically exhausting. (Some say it’s because they want to best Durmstrang and it comes with knowing your enemy).

Despite the notes of traditionalist gender roles, female teachers are usually well-respected, even more than male ones. And that’s why many female teachers are quite haughty and have queen-like demeanor.

Below: Ksiaz castle room

But when do poles rest from all their strict training? The answer: when holidays come. Holidays are sacred for poles and many missteps are forgiven during them, rules become slightly more relaxed.

One of the curiously LESS regulated things in Polish School of Magic is love. While british and american wizards such as Snape may get into a puritanical rage seeing two students kissing passionately, polish teachers would just smile sweetly at them and leave them alone. Girls sending boys postcards is not considered cringeworthy as it is in Hogwarts (I am looking at you, Harry) but natural and enviable. In fact, teachers encourage students to dance together and on holidays such as Christmas, they even overlook duels related to love triangles (a rare case of them approving non-DADA duels). Poles can dance well and you can often find them waltzing in the school balroom in their festive robes. They also flirt well and all this combined with the fact how good they are at duelling, makes them formidable rivals in love for students from any other school, including Beauxbatons, especially considering that Beauxbatons boys lean narcissistic rather than chivalrous.

In the end, if Poland did participate in Triwizard Tournament, I think it would charm everyone with their quick wit, intelligence, modesty, good manners and passionate spirit.

Quite far from the “Goblin” stuff, isn’t it?

Below: various beautiful views from Poland

139 notes · View notes

jerakeenc · 3 years

Text

many kidfics i’ve read and loved

look who’s reccing a million year old fics now. kidfics, very many. posted to dw for snowflake, thought I’d copy here as well. will be reading most, if not all. if you don’t hear from me again, this list is the culprit.

101 Ways To Get Lucky (In Love) by lenore

18,200 words | SGA, McKay/Sheppard

Rodney McKay is rich, gorgeous and at the top of his game—except someone just moved the goalposts! Now Rodney realizes he is sorely lacking the one status symbol that everybody seems to have…the perfect family. Rodney needs help, so he hires a relationship coach. Single-dad John Sheppard may be an expert, but not when it comes to his own relationships! And every day he spends with Rodney makes him wish that he could be the one to fill the vacancy in Rodney's life…

A Beautiful Lifetime Event by astolat

29,000 words | SGA, McKay/Sheppard

Life is what happens when you're busy making other plans.

An Earlier Heaven by regann

67,400 words | X-Men, Erik/Charles

In the wake of Cuba, Charles and his students are ready to pick up the pieces and work toward achieving Charles's dream of a safe haven for young mutants. Those plans, however, take a surprising turn thanks to a very unexpected complication. As he slowly builds a future for his students and for his child, Charles struggles with the loss of Erik and the secrets he's willing to keep to protect his family, but those strides are shattered when Erik makes a startling reappearance into his life. [mpreg, kidfic, ensemble]

And everything nice by noelia_g

30,200 words | Social Network, Mark/Eduardo

The one where Mark somehow ends up with a child and of course needs a nanny for the amount of time he spends at the office. Only problem is a string of nannys keep trying to get into his pants for what he assumes is his money. Cue Mark's assistant hiring a male nanny, enter Eduardo.

asking to be born by longtime_lurker

26,500 words | Bandom, Pete/Patrick

"Don't worry, it's probably just his big gay freakout," Andy yells cheerfully and unhelpfully into Patrick's ear as they're hustling Pete over to the nearest private clinic.

Better with You by harriet_vane

38,100 words | 1D, Liam/Louis

Based on this prompt at the kinkmeme:

Single parent and solo artist Liam Payne hires Louis Tomlinson to be a full time nanny to his four year old son Sammy. Although the two men don't quite click from the start it's love at first sight between Sammy and Louis. Eventually Louis and Liam warm up to each other and get on like a house on fire, in fact the two become a little too fond of each other.

I refuse to apologize for how sweet this ended up, okay? It's kidfic, I am forever writing kidfic, and this one is even kid-fic-ier than usual.

Can't Get Enough of You (Baby) by eternalbreath

22,100 words | Inception, Arthur/Eames

Eames vanishes from dreamshare and Arthur goes a little crazy looking for him until he stumbles across him -- with a baby.

Chelsea, Chelsea, I Believe by empathapathique

300,800 words | Hockey, Kane/Toews

Patrick meets a girl his rookie year.

Don't You Shake Alone by dsudis

62,180 words | Generation Kill, Brad/Nate

Nate looked exactly like Brad always pictured him: exhausted in the full life-in-a-combat-zone sense of the word.

Dude, what's a bulwark? by kellifer_fic

12,150 words | Teen Wolf, Derek/Stiles

Beacon Hills is the kind of small town where everybody knows everybody, and what everybody knows is that surly diner owner Derek Hale and free spirited single dad Stiles Stilinski have been in love with each other for years. If only they knew it too.

Every Other Beautiful World by rhiannonhero

43,280 words | SGA, McKay/Sheppard

Some things are unexpected but still inevitable in every beautiful world.

Forever, Now by harriet_vane

227,100 words | Bandom, Frank/Gerard, Jon/Spencer, Brendon/Ryan, Brian/Greta

Brian rescues kid!Gerard and Mikey from life on the streets, and eventually everyone finds a family.

here comes the sun by oflights

56,600 words | Social Network, Mark/Eduardo

This is a story about growing up, sad 70's rock songs, too much hair gel, "Maxwell's Silver Hammer", a baby with curly hair, a Geiger counter, a dog that isn't named Max, the Chicken Dance, Cheerios, pepper-spray, drugs, sex, and a stuffed chicken named Cluckerberg, nicknamed Cluck. or: Mark raises Sean's accidental baby, and I write the fluffiest thing ever.

I Got a Love (That Keeps Me Waiting) by svmadelyn

163,700 words | Hockey, Kane/Toews

There's a lot of different ways this summary could go, like:

Patrick Kane gets more than a gold medal in Sochi.

Or, the classic: It's too late to pull out now.

Or: Patrick Kane continues to thrive in high pressure situations.

Or: Patrick Kane gets knocked up, goes to White Castle, and finds love, not necessarily in that order.

But, ultimately, all that really matters is this: Patrick Kane is keeping his baby.

I Would Be by cathalin

20,290 words | American Idol, Kris/Adam

AU. Adam and Kris meet a few years down the road, when down-on-his-luck Kris and his young daughter Katherine show up to rent a room from Adam, who never made it to an Idol audition.

Ice Ice Baby by uraneia

51,340 words | Hockey, Claude/Danny

A gold medal isn't the only souvenir Claude brings home from Prague.

OR: The one where Claude gets drunk, gets pregnant, and gets convinced to move in with Danny, whom he's been secretly in love with for years. What could possibly go wrong?

my heart is bigger than the distance in between us by estrella30

15,000 words | 1D, Nick/Harry

Nick chuckles quietly but grabs the remote and follows Emma, Aimee coming up close behind him. It’s indeed Harry on the telly, singing along to his latest radio hit and smiling slowly into the camera far too seductively for half eight on a Friday morning, if you ask Nick. He presses the volume just in time to catch the crowd’s roaring applause and see the pink flush Harry’s cheeks. Nick watches him duck his head as he gives a small wave to the audience, and it hits Nick that Harry is still the most humble and appreciative billionaire Nick’s ever met.

Good job, popstar, Nick thinks to himself.

or, Nick is a single dad and Harry is his bff and it's a bunch of years into the future and they fall in love

Once Upon a Furry Octopus by skoosiepants

11,270 words | SGA, McKay/Sheppard

He was an intelligent, intuitive pet, but he wasn’t going to start sniffing out ZPMs or hidden Ancient weaponry or detailed instructions on how to kill a Wraith with a common household item. A pen, for instance.

Reconcilable Differences by astolat

40,000 words | Smallville, Clark/Lex

Luthor Family Values.

Shelter by harriet_vane

63,500 words | Social Network, Jesse/Andrew

From the kinkmeme prompt: Some sort of AU vaguely based on Shelter! For whatever reason, Jesse has to take care of Hallie and give up his dream of being an actor. He ends up working in a dead end job when former, now successful friend (Andrew) returns home. They fall in love, etc, only Jesse can't go away with him because he has a responsibility to his family. CUE ANGST.

Show Me The Way Back Home Baby by stilinskisparkles

15,000 words | Teen Wolf, Derek/Stiles

In which Lydia and Jackson produce the world's cutest baby, and the pack goes crazy-- the good kind of crazy. Except for Derek, who is afraid of tiny cute babies and Stiles who plans to be the best Uncle ever. Even if Danny called dibs on Godfather.

Skybird by windsweptfic

33,785 words | Inception/White Collar, Arthur/Eames

Arthur and Eames adopt a kid and raise that kid into Neal Caffrey.

Small Cells and Fibers by sevenfists

7,830 words | Bandom, Frank/Gerard

Tuesdays were finger-painting days. Frank made sure to wear his oldest pair of jeans, because even with his full-length apron and his constant reminders that paint belongs on paper and not on clothing, he always ended up with tiny, multi-colored handprints all over his clothes. There wasn't a thing he could do about it, so he just wore pants from 1995.

Small Primes and Square Roots by liviapenn

12,500 words | SGA, McKay/Sheppard

"I hope you picked someone really intelligent, otherwise it seems like it would be kind of a waste. Of incubation time, if nothing else."

So Wise We Grow by deastar

81,250 words | Star Trek Reboot, Kirk/Spock

"Commander Spock, we have located your son," the Vulcan lady on the screen says, which would be great, except Jim can tell by the look on Spock's face that he's never heard of this kid before in his life. "If it is expedient, the child will be sent to join you on the Enterprise within the week."

Something Better by lovelypoet

18,350 words | Bandom, Frank/Gerard

"We all have to take jobs we don't like sometimes, you know?"

The Next Time You Say Forever by Thistlerose

27,300 words | Star Trek Reboot, Kirk/McCoy

After his ex-wife's death, McCoy is forced to leave the Enterprise to look after his teenage daughter. Under normal circumstances, this would be the end of…whatever it is he has with Kirk that's more than friendship, but less than what he wants. But the universe has other intentions.

The Reeducation of Misters Kane and Toews by jezziejay

15,900 words | Hockey, Kane/Toews

In which Kaner sort of has a kid, and Mr. Toews doesn't know which of them is the bigger brat.

AU featuring teacher!Jon and hockey-player!Kaner. With bonus 'Hawks characters, love notes, pasta jewelry, Be Better Pizzas, pirouettes, a sprinke of angst and guest appearance by Derek Jeter.

The Road Delivered Us Home by keelywolfe

117,430 words | Hobbit, Thorin/Bilbo

In the years since Bilbo left Erebor, he has lost his respectability, gained a nephew, and gotten on with life at Bag End.

He'd left aside adventure for the comforts and peace of his little Hobbit hole, and for the love of a child who needed him. Though perhaps, adventures can yet find him.

This Story Was Brought to You by Our Sponsors by scaramouche

29,500 words | Supernatural, Dean/Castiel

Dean's post-apocalyptic life is a friggin' soap opera. Romance! Angst! Separations! Reunions! Pizza Dinners! A Child Dean Never Knew He Had! It's all very dramatic.

throw a little sparkle all over it by etben

26,000 words | Bandom, Frank/Gerard

"Hey, Ma," Mikey says. "No, everything's fine—well, I mean, Gerard accidentally adopted a baby—no, he's changing her now, he can't talk."

Tiny Houses by ohmyjetsabel

77,130 words | Teen Wolf, Derek/Stiles

"So this is what Stiles does. He lies in Scott’s bed and waits for Melissa to say she’s found someone to get it out of him, to cure him of the wrongness and the bad, and he dreams.

God, he dreams.

He dreams of fire and swollen bellies and that scene in Alien, of giving birth to jackals through his urethra, the whole horrific nine yards. His head is a terrible place to be, he can’t imagine his stomach is much better, why anyone would want to put a thing inside of it."

Tip, Slide, Tumble by j_s_cavalcante

42,900 words | due South, Fraser/Kowalski

Ray knew when he found the body in the alley it was going to change someone's life. He just didn't expect that life would be his.

Turn by saras_girl

306,000 words | Harry Potter, Harry/Draco

One good turn always deserves another. Apparently.

Unless it's lies or it's love by sprat

25,300 words | American Idol, Kris/Adam

In which Adam (a rock star) meets Kris (a single dad) at an Emergency Room in Arkansas at the end of a particularly shitty night. Also features: San Francisco, fresh starts, baked goods, OCs, cameo appearances by Matt and Megan, pirates, monsters with garbage heads and a recording studio.

What Child Is This by lamardeuse

30,150 words | Merlin, Arthur/Merlin

A modern AU with Merlin, Arthur, mayhem, a baby and a jingly elf hat.

What to Expect by arsenic

29,200 words | Bandom, Bob/Mikey

Mikey has his band, and his little girl, and that's enough. Really, it is.

Winter's Children by neery

66,890 words | Marvel, Bucky/Steve

When their attempts to recreate the super soldier serum failed, Hydra started trying to breed Captain America clones from his genetic samples. Unfortunately, the serum's effects aren't passed down genetically, so instead of an army of tiny Captain Americas, they get a bunch of tow-headed, asthmatic, allergic, immuno-compromised little Steves.

And then the Winter Soldier stumbles across Hydra's failed experiment...

With Six You Get Eggroll by speranza

31,000 words | due South, Fraser/Kowalski

"Kick 'em In The Head: A Guide To Parenting."

ETA: Bonus! Because I apparently lost my bookmark for this one but have the memory of an elephant for kidfic, so it came to me eventually. :D

A Farm in Iowa 'Verse by sheafrotherdon

166,000 words | SGA, McKay/Sheppard

John inherits a farm, Rodney ends up entirely out of his element, and there is much ado about baseball.

#kidfic #recs

69 notes · View notes

twdmusicboxmystery · 2 years

Text

@weapon13whitefang:

I’ve been thinking about Judith calling herself Jude and how you thought of the song Hey Jude and the Beetles Apple Record. I don’t know why, but it made me dig my grandma’s records out and play the song. I flipped to side B and had an “Oh” moment because I had forgotten the song on the other side. It’s “Revolution”. Also known as Revolution 1 because there are 3 versions of this song that was written by John Lennon with Paul McCartney.

I’m a big fan of the Beetles so I love spilling some history on them. John Lennon started the song while he was in India. At the time, he was basically pretty detached from everything happening in the world around ‘68. Quick history for ya, but shit was wild. Student demonstrations were happening in Paris and it’s economy was backed into a wall on hold and there was fear of a civil war, Czechoslovakia threatened to destabilize the country and this caused the Soviet Union to send tanks to the streets of Prague, London had anti-Vietnam demonstrators in Grosvenor Square clashing violently with riot police and at least 80+ people were injured, Martin Luther King Jr and Robert Kennedy’s assassinations were still fresh press, and there were anti-war and civil-rights protests that had everyone on edge… The late 60s were tough.

Lennon was over in India, just mostly vibing and unaware of how deep the seeds of chaos were planted around him. He just believed “it will be alright, God will save us all” kinda thing going on. “Revolution 1” was a true show of how conflicted Lennon was. The lyric “Don’t you know that you can count me out/in” shows just how torn he was on his views and where to stand. There’s a secret revolution in TWD in Commonwealth that’s happening. And I think Daryl and Judith and the other ASZ/Hilltop/Kingdom peeps are going to be torn apart from it. Commonwealth has so far done a lot to keep them safe, which is Daryl’s focus for Jude and RJ. Norman even said in an interview that “Daryl’s choices are for the kids” because right now, they need him. He is gonna do what he needs to keep them safe. For Michonne and for Rick’s memory.

There’s cracks in Commonwealth’s set up and they have underground defectors squirming the underbelly. Those cracks are deeper than we know yet. We’ve seen hints, obviously, but what’s caused these cracks and what’s going on with them.

I don’t know, I’m not a connect the dot TDer as you know but something I just couldn’t shake. I’ve noticed TWD likes to use historical moments and outlines to play on their stories. Example with the civil war monuments we’ve seen and Eugene talking about Waterloo. Jude and Beetles just drew me here. Interested to see what you all think of this.

TWDMusicBoxMystery:

Yeah, I really like this. There's definitely a revolution theme that we've talked about before. We think they're using different battles and sequences and heroes from the American Revolution as templates for story lines. Other wars as well, as you mentioned above, but we've specifically noticed a Revolution theme.

So, having the record that references Jude, has a big green apple on it, and has the Revolutions song as well, can't possibly be a coincidence. Obviously that record was released long before TWD was a thing, but once again, I just think Gimple and Kang are using it as symbolism.

You could also connect the apple to New York (the Big Apple) and the fact that Maggie and Negan are headed there eventually. Perhaps the revolution will begin there. No way to know for certain.

I don't have a whole lot to add, but this is very interesting, and something we'll definitely keep an eye on. Thanks so much for your thoughts and for the historical context. Love it! Xoxo! 🍀💝

#submission #the walking dead #beth greene #beth greene lives #beth is alive #beth is coming #td theory #td theories #team delusional #team defiance #beth is almost here #bethyl

3 notes · View notes

kellanswritingblog · 3 years

Text

I’m a day late, but here’s day 4 of @aroaceingtheline! Today I went with the prompt Awareness.

Set on the airship on their way to Prague, Sasha is getting healed by Zolf, but she feels like there’s a bit inside her that is still wrong, even after his magic does its job. After some explaining, Zolf teaches her about aromanticism, and she doesn’t feel quite so broken anymore.

Warnings for internalized arophobia, amatanormativity

Sasha barely even felt Zolf’s magic wash over her as he healed up the scars that reopened every morning. There was something else wrong with her that somehow ran deeper than the marks of an autopsy.

“Okay, you should be all set. Once we get to Prague, we’ll find someone who has a better idea what’s going on.”

“Right. Cheers.”

When Sasha didn’t move to put on her jacket or leave the room, Zolf hesitated.

“Is something wrong?”

She continued to sit on the bunk and examine her hands.

“I think I’m broken.”

“What do you mean?” Zolf stepped back over to her side in an instant. “Did it not heal you all the way?” Sasha couldn’t make out the words, but she heard quiet, angry murmuring escape his lips, cursing Poseidon for not fixing her right.

“No, it’s not that. This is…” She stretched her shoulders. “This is fine. As good as it gets when you’ve got a falcon on your back and cuts all up your front. It’s more… Never mind.”

Despite her dismissal, she still made no attempt to leave the cabin or move on, so Zolf sat down next to her and waited for an explanation. He wouldn’t push her or force her to speak before the thoughts sorted themselves out in her head, and she was grateful for that. Even if she decided to say nothing, Sasha knew that Zolf would listen to the silence as well as her words.

“Earlier in the lounge, Hamid was talking about this girl he used to date, and it got me thinking… I’ve never dated anyone. I’ve never wanted to? It’s like, hugs are good sometimes, in rare occasions, but I don’t like people touching me, and thinking about kissing or any of that stuff… it just feels wrong. But it can’t be wrong, can it? Everybody falls in love eventually, but I don’t want to, and I’ve never even felt close to that.”

Zolf paused for a moment, and then said, “Oh.”

“Yeah, I know. Don’t suppose you have a spell to fix that? To make me normal?”

“No, no, Sasha, it’s not like that. You’re not broken. Look at me.” There was a pleading desperation in his voice, and Sasha couldn’t help but lift her eyes to meet his. “You are not broken. There isn’t a spell to fix this because there is nothing to fix.”

“Then what’s wrong with me?”

“Nothing’s wrong with you. It sounds like you’re aromantic. You don’t experience romantic attraction.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

Zolf took a breath to arrange words and definitions before he continued. “Okay, right. Well, you talk about dating and kissing and falling in love – that’s like romance. Those butterflies in your stomach and wanting to spend your life with someone. Doesn’t have to be romantic, but a lot of times it is, and lots of people think it always is, but…” He gestured with his hands as he spoke, waving them wildly, and Sasha watched them as she tried to sketch out explanations in her mind. “But not everybody wants that. Not everybody feels that way. It’s like, there’s a door, and it’s locked. Seems like everybody else has a key, but you don’t.”

“I pick it open.”

“No, it’s… you can’t. No matter how hard you try, no matter how much you try to force the door, you just keep breaking off your lockpicks, but other people are passing right through, and you’re stuck. It doesn’t mean that you don’t have a whole house to live in; you just can’t get into that one room.”

“But I want to nick – appraise – the stuff in that room.”

“Maybe this wasn’t a good analogy…” Zolf pondered.

“No, I think I get it,” Sasha replied, abandoning her skillset for the sake of the explanation. “It’s not about nicking things. Like, there could be valuable stuff in that room, but I haven’t got the right pieces to get in. So… romance is the room?”

“Exactly. It doesn’t make you a bad thief, a bad person that you can’t get in. It’s weird, and sometimes you might feel like you’re missing out, but you’ve got all sorts of other rooms to wander around in, other parts of your life to experience, maybe other types of love to feel, with family, with friends. You just don’t feel romance, nothing wrong with that. And you might be able to see in through a window or a crack, and want to be in there because that’s where everyone is, but that doesn’t mean you actually want what’s in that room.”

“Hm.”

Sasha went back to looking at her hands, part of her still protesting that there was no door she couldn’t pick open, while the rest of her attempted to look past that for the sake of the metaphor.

“I know it can be hard to wrap your head around,” Zolf said, examining his own hands now. “I’m sort of the same way. Not with romance, so much, but with sexual attraction. Most people can look at a person and think, ‘hey, I could get it on with them,’ but I don’t. I mean, I do sometimes. I think I’ve experienced that sort of attraction twice… three times… two and a half times in my entire life. That’s a form of asexuality, the lack of sexual attraction. What you’re talking about sounds like aromanticism, the lack of romantic attraction. And, listen, it’s not the same thing, I can’t entirely relate to you because I am a hopeless romantic at heart. I want to fall in love and all that, but… I sort of get the whole ‘broken’ part. Sometimes you just want to smash down that damn door and not have to wonder or explain why you can’t get in. But after a while, you get used to it, and you can take pride in the fact that you know every other room in the house better than anyone else ever could.”

After a while, Sasha nodded. It still felt like she had a hole in her chest, but the edges weren’t so sharp anymore.

“Thank you,” she said. “I think… I think I understand.”

“And it might take a bit. When we land, maybe we can find a book or something that can explain it all better than I can. I think I remember a couple titles from when I was trying to sort myself out, years ago. It’s a very worthwhile detour,” he added when he saw Sasha open her mouth to protest at taking time away from their job.

Eventually, Sasha quietly asked, “Do you remember how I said hugs were okay sometimes? Do you think… Can I hug you?”

Zolf chuckled and smiled. “Come here.”

They spun to face each other and fell into an embrace, holding on tight. For a brief moment, Sasha buried her face in the crook of Zolf’s shoulder, and then she retreated in a flash.

“Thanks for taking the time to heal me, boss.” She stood and put on her jacket, making ready to leave the cabin. “And for telling me which parts don’t need to be healed.”

“You’re welcome. Any time, Sasha.”

Zolf left in Prague. Sasha tried not to think about it too much, or wonder if she had driven him off. She would focus on the job.

The halls of the flying University were beyond Sasha’s comprehension; she couldn’t even appraise half of the stuff floating around, so mixed up with magic as it was, but she did know it would be worth a lot in the right hands.

But then there were footsteps coming toward them, and thoughts of appraisal vanished from Sasha’s mind as she ducked behind a nearby ledge and readied her wrist sheaths.

“Mr. al-Tahan! And, uh, Bertie?”

“Sir Bertrand, you pathetic little weasel,” Bertie growled at the student that ran up to the remainder of the group.

Hamid pushed past that. “What’s going on?” He asked the frantic and terrified student.

“I’m looking for a, uh, Sasha Racket?”

Without missing a beat, Hamid replied, “Who’s asking?”

From her hiding place, Sasha smiled at Hamid’s response.

The student stuttered and read over the directions he held in a shaking hand. “I have a package for her, from some grumpy looking dwarf. I was told to track down a halfling of your description and a loud man in gold, since you would be easier to find than she would.”

Sasha perked up at the explanation, then slunk out of her hiding place and over to the group.

“It’s alright, Hamid,” Sasha said. Hamid jumped as she did so since he hadn’t seen her approach.

“You’re Sasha then?” The student asked.

“Yeah… that’s me.” Felt wrong to admit to her own name, but they were far away from London, and that grumpy looking dwarf sounded like someone she trusted.

The student pulled a book from his pack and handed it over. “Here. Alright, bye!”

With that, he ran off, obviously horrified of the ragtag group he addressed.

“What is it?” Hamid questioned. “It’s from Zolf?”

Sasha looked over the book in her hands. What is Romance? A Guide by and for Aromantics was the title, and she smiled to herself.

“Yeah, it’s a… a book he said I might like. He talked about us finding a copy, but obviously he’s not here for that anymore.”

Hamid nodded, then noticed that Bertie and Grizzop were wandering off, so followed after them to catch up before either of them could terrify or threaten any more of the student populace.

Sasha, however, stood a moment longer to open the book and scan the pages. Inside the front cover was a scrawled note in a recognizable hand:

Remember, Sasha, you are not broken, and you are never alone.

Zolf

#rusty quill gaming #rqg #aroaceingtheline2021 #Sasha Racket #Zolf Smith #aromantic character #asexual character #grey asexual character #me writing Zolf and Sasha in anything #what if they hugged????

27 notes · View notes

checkurwindow · 3 years

Text

ten ways

Book: Open Heart

Warning: So sweet your dentist would be concerned Rating: General Pairing: Bryce x F!MC Word count: 6500+ Author’s note: I finally wrote something that isn’t angst and oh god is it long. I spent so much time on this so please please consider reblogging and let me know what you thought of it, and maybe check out my masterlist while you’re at it.

There was truly no better way to start off senior year than arriving late to her first class.

In her defense, she had left the house early. For once in her life, she was actually going to be early to school. She was so proud of herself, and was so certain that she had extra time that she allowed herself to stop at a drive-thru and get a drink as a reward to herself. Everything was going according to plan.

That is, until the lady in the car in front of her decided she wasn’t pleased with her order and made the barista redo it; and to make sure he didn’t mess up her order a second time, the barista was extra careful. And extra slow.

She groaned as she watched the time tick pass minute by minute. Just her luck.

She watched the barista hand the drink to the lady in front and breathed a sigh of relief. Yet, the car didn’t move, not a single inch. The drink was already in her hand, but the lady just had to continue to talk with the barista.

She cursed under her breath and banged her head on the steering wheel in frustration. She must’ve been more aggressive than she was expecting, because her horn went off, and loudly at that.

She jumped back in shock at the noise. The lady poked her head out of her car window and immediately began lecturing her on how rude she was being. At least, that’s what she assumed she was saying, she really couldn’t hear her with her windows rolled up. She bit her lip, gave a little wave, and mouthed an apology.

Eventually, the lady finished her rant and left the drive-thru. She got her drink, no longer a reward and more of a consolation, and sped to school.

There weren’t any other students in the parking lot by the time she got there, only a reminder of just how late she was. Shoving all her things back inside her backpack, she locked the door and hurried into the building.

Of course, her first class just had to be with Mr. Anderson. Any other teacher would have just let her tardiness slide, but not him, never him. She opened the door to his classroom, and any conversation that had been going on stopped.

More than a dozen pairs of eyes turned their attention to her, and she wanted to melt into the floor right then and there.

“Nice of you to finally join us,” Mr. Anderson addressed her. He narrowed his eyes at the nervous student, leaning against his desk as he sized her up, “if you’re done being a distraction to my class, I’d appreciate it if you would take a seat.

She swallowed roughly and nodded. He went back to lecturing the class on how his classes would be conducted, and she did her best to find a seat as quietly as she could. Instinctively, she made her way over to where her friends were sitting.

Bryce moved his backpack off the desk next to him and quietly whispered, “I saved you a seat.”

She gave him a grateful smile and mouthed back a ‘thanks’.

Sienna leaned forward, “Anderson really wasn’t amused with you, huh?”

“I swear he hates me,” she insisted.

Bryce rolled his eyes, “he doesn’t hate you, Boo.”

“Bryce is right,” she said, “everyone knows he just hates women,” she stressed the last part with exaggerated disgust.

Late-night study sessions had evolved to become code for hanging out at Danny’s house and messing around.

Sienna was dating Danny, so naturally, she had become friends with him and his friends by association. Sienna, Aurora, and her were actually trying to study. Danny and Elijah were discussing the school football team’s chances of winning their next game, and Jackie and Bryce were in the kitchen getting snacks and undoubtedly bickering about something completely irrelevant.

“Okay, Sienna,” Aurora held up a flashcard, “what can you tell me about the defenestration of Prague?”

“Uh, people were thrown out of windows for fun?” She replied, barely having read that chapter of the textbook.

“No- well, actually, I suppose you’re technically not completely wrong.”

She let her body fall back against the back of the couch and closed her eyes. If she had to stay there any longer, she would’ve thrown herself out the window.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to hang out with her friends, it was just that after a long day of school, she wasn’t exactly thrilled to spend more time with the people she had already spent most of the day with.

“Sorry I’m late, I just spent the better part of the last hour trying to explain to a group of freshmen that I won’t be dating or teaching “my ways” to any one of them,” he shuddered dramatically as he walked into the living room where everyone was.

“Ah yes, I almost forgot I was friends with the Bryce Lahela,” she said overdramatically.

He rolled his eyes but decided to amuse her nonetheless, “what can I say, I’m just clearly superior.”

She scoffed but refused to dignify him with any further response. Instead, she closed her eyes and pretended she was back at home under her warm, soft covers.

“I brought you food.”

That caught her attention. Cautiously opening an eye to see if he was telling the truth, she was met with the sight of him holding up a bag of fast food that he must have picked up on his way over. She couldn’t help the growing smile on her face as she sat upright.

“For me?” She asked.

“Of course, Munchkin” he handed the bag over to her, “you skipped lunch to finish up the science project you were behind on and I’m certain you haven’t gotten around to eating anything yet,” he said confidently.

She happily pulled an order of large fries out of the bag, “have I ever told you how amazing you are, Bryce?”

He smiled, “not often enough.”

“Well, you are. So amazing.”

She had just finished the fries and was looking through the back to see what else he had gotten her when Danny called out to her.

“What are your thoughts on Rafael?” He asked.

“Aveiro?”

“Yep.”

She tilted her head, “he’s okay, pretty cute. Why?”

“He told me he likes you, even wanted me to ask if you were single?” Danny said nonchalantly.

Sienna immediately got invested and joined in on the conversation, “she is very single, and I for one think they would be a great couple!”

She could feel her cheeks begin to heat up, and suddenly she found the hardwood floors very interesting, “I don’t know…he actually likes me?”

“That’s what he told me,” Danny replied, “can I give him your number?”

She weighed her options before giving a careless shrug, “Yeah, why not?”

“You and Rafael? I knew this day would come,” Aurora commented.

“Okay, we’ve talked about this long enough. We need to study,” she insisted, pulling out her textbook.

“I’d rather not fail this test,” Bryce agreed.

Everyone begrudgingly went back to their previous activities, and Bryce took that opportunity to fill up the space next to her on the couch. She flipped through pages of her textbook before coming to a stop. She passed the textbook to Bryce and pointed to a large picture on the page.

“This one’s my favourite,” she said.

“Wanderer above the Sea of Fog,” he read, “you’re a fan of Caspar David Friedrich?”

She shrugged, “I guess I’m just a fan of the Romantic moment in general. Everything was so creative and beautiful. I just think it’s crazy how this painting holds so much emotion.”

Bryce frowned, looked at the painting, then back at her, “it certainly is romantic.”

She gave the painting one last look before she began flipping through the pages of the textbook again. Bryce watched her curiously as she read over the vocabulary words for that week. After a while, he decided to say what was on his mind.

“So,” he broke the silence, “you and Rafael, huh?”

“Yeah,” suddenly, the furry carpet on the floor looked beyond interesting, “I used to have a crush on him in middle school, remember?”

His mouth broke out into a smile, “Sienna and I used to tease you about it all the time! No wonder you’re so bad at chemistry,” he joked.

“I happen to be pretty extraordinary at chemistry, thank you very much.”

“Hm, I think that botched experiment that nearly killed Mrs. Durnam tells a very different story,” he said, and she playfully punched his arm.

“She’s still alive, isn’t he? Plus, you were the one who didn’t make me double-check!”

He had an amused look on his face, “keep telling that to yourself, babe.”

He was tired, the sheets were too hot. It had been a long day, his body was exhausted. The air in his bedroom was too cold, his mind was tired, too. If he would just close his eyes and stop thinking, he’d be asleep in mere minutes. Now the sheets were hot again, so he kicked them off. Then the air was too cold, so he pulled the sheets over him again. Not thinking ironically proved to be harder than perceived. Go then if you must, but remember, no matter how fooli- damn it, Sophocles, damn your terribly beautiful words.

Bryce threw the covers onto the other side of the bed and sat up. He wasn’t going to get much sleep that night no matter how hard he tried, anyway, no need to lie to himself. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, if there even had been any sleep in the first place.

There was no doubt that he was tired both mentally and physically. But emotionally? His heart was eternally restless when it came that. He crossed his room and sat down at the expensive wooden desk, fully accepting that getting any rest that night was no longer a viable option.

The bright light from his computer was a harsh contrast to the darkness of the room, but his eyes adjusted soon enough. Bryce didn’t even know what he was doing on his computer in the middle of the night.

But his subconscious knew. His fingers opened up the application and started scrolling. No, no, yes. God, no. yes, definitely, perfect. And that went on for an hour or so, though Bryce wasn’t exactly keeping track of time. He’d be near-dead at sunrise, but he wasn’t going to get any sleep until he finished.

When he actually did finish, he smiled contentedly to himself. A wave of calmness washed over him, and before he knew it, he was face down and lost in his dreams asleep.

He looked terrible the next morning. Well, as terrible as Bryce Lahela could look. He still dressed as great as always, even styling his hair with a little more volume than usual. He was still sharp as ever in class, but anyone who really knew him could tell that he was a total mess.

“Hey, you okay?” She asked during lunch in Mr. Jericho’s classroom (He had been kind enough to let a bunch of teenagers spend lunch in his class; the cafeteria just wasn't cool enough for them).

“Huh? Yeah, I’m fine.”

She cocked her head to one side, “no you aren’t, spill.”

“Don’t worry about me. I actually have a little something for you,” Bryce fished his phone out of his pocket.

“You have something for me?”

“Sending it now. Aaaand…...check your phone!”

She raised an eyebrow and cautiously unlocked her phone to look at the text he had sent to her.

“Sophocles and Serotonin,” she read off her phone, “ what is this?”

“I made you a playlist of songs that I thought you’d like.”

“Seriously?” A smile emerged on her lips, and Bryce couldn’t help himself but to reflect it, “When did you even have the time for this?”

He shrugged nonchalantly, “I happened to have free time last night.”

“With Mr. Anderson's early deadlines? I smell a steaming hot pile of bullshit, Lahela,” She looked up at him, a teasing lilt prominent in her tone, “I appreciate the playlist even more now that I know you took the time out of your night to make it. Thank you, Bryce.”

She leaned forward on the desk she was seated on and pressed a kiss to his cheek. He froze like a deer in headlights, and if she noticed, she definitely didn’t say anything. He compiled himself back together before she could notice that his usual smirk wasn’t as smug as it usually was, and leaned back against the desk behind him in an attempt to look cool.

“So, what’re you doing after school?” He asked in his best casual voice.

“Rafael and I are going to see a movie.”

“That’s actually still a thing?”

She shot him a look that made him raise his hands up in surrender, “Yes, it’s still a thing. He’s a good guy, I really like him.”

“But is he good enough for you?” He crossed his arms, eyes not leaving hers. It wasn’t that Bryce didn’t like Rafael. Rafael was great, but no guy would ever be good enough for his best friend.

“He is,” She said with an eye roll, “why do you care anyway?”

“Just looking out for you, Sweetheart.”

“I can take care of myself perfectly fine, Scout.”

His eyebrows shot up his forehead, an impressed look across his face, “trust me, I know.”

Summer felt like an eternity ago, when in reality, it had been less than two months ago The yellow-orange leaves and updated Starbucks menu was enough to convince anyone that it was already October.

It took a lot of sweet-talking and a tiny bit of bribery to convince Bryce to attend the Homecoming football game, but with Sienna’s assistance, she eventually got him to cave. She wanted him there, but more importantly, she wanted him to give her a ride there.

Of course, she could have taken her own car, but she would much rather not waste her own gas when she could take advantage of his instead. It wasn’t like it mattered to him, his parents paid for his car, insurance, and gas anyway. Plus, the seat warming function in his cushy Mercedes Benz was a huge incentive.

She spent most of the ride over to the stadium raving over the seat warmers, and he spent most of the ride making fun of how obsessed she was with said seat warmer. Eventually, they parked outside and paid for the entrance fees.

“It’s kinda co-” before she could even finish her sentence remarking the cold weather, Bryce handed her a comfy looking (and feeling) sweatshirt. She looked down at the maroon sweatshirt, then back at him, her mouth slightly ajar, “You brought an extra sweatshirt for me? I didn’t even ask.”

“You didn’t need to,” he shrugged.

She put on the sweatshirt and stared at him with wide eyes. Bryce glanced at her, bit the inside of his lip, then shook his head, “Don’t go thinking I care about you or anything now, Lovey. I couldn’t have you taking the sweatshirt I’m wearing, then I’d freeze up.

She looked up at him with a smug grin on her face that made him regret bringing her the sweatshirt in the first place, “Yeah? Is that really all it was?”

“Yes, that’s all, Sunshine,” he did his best to act all annoyed by her questioning, but instead found it endearing in the end.

It took him a moment, but eventually, he came up with a half-decent excuse, “besides, you know my grandma would kill me if she knew I let you freeze. I swear, sometimes it seems like she loves you more than she loves me.”

“That’s because she does,” she pointed it out like it was the only possibility, “can you blame her? I’m funny and adorable. You’re just a grumpy old man that I had to drag to this game.”

“That’s it. Take the sweatshirt off, I hope you freeze,” he said with the dirtiest look he could muster and she had the audacity to throw her head back and laugh.

She reached into her bag, and after digging around, she pulled a five-dollar bill out of her wallet. Thrusting the money into Bryce’s hand and pushing him in the direction of the concession stand, “here, go get some popcorn for us. Maybe then you won’t be so irritable once you get some food in you, I’ll find us some good seats.’

Bryce grumbled something about “you’re irritable” but nonetheless ventured off towards the concession stand.

She climbed the steps up the stadium and immediately found Sienna and Danny sitting in the student section, all decked out in their school colours and face paint. Sienna greeted her with a warm hug.

Pulling back, Sienna took note of what she was wearing, “is that Bryce’s?”

She looked down at the Stanford sweatshirt she had wrapped around herself, “Oh yes, it’s pretty comfortable, actually.”

Sienna pursed her lips and mulled over the new information, “What’s going on between the two of you?”

“What do you mean? We’re friends,” she shrugged.

“And Bryce knows that?” She paused, “Do you know that?”

She narrowed her eyes at Sienna, “Yes, of course I know that. I’m dating Rafael now, okay? Bryce and I have always just been friends, and that's all we’ll ever be.” Sienna nodded her head, “Okay, okay. If you say so, I believe you. I just don’t want anyone to get hurt, I care about both of you.”

“There aren’t any feelings between Bryce and I, don’t worry,” she said, but those words didn’t leave her mind for the rest of the night.

Bryce had spent a significant amount of the week dreaming about the coffee and cookie dough ice cream that was waiting for him in the freezer.

It was his favourite flavour, and there was just enough left in the carton for one last bowl of that sweet sweet goodness of a food. He had promised himself that he wouldn’t eat the last of it until he really deserved to. After spending his afternoon being productive and studying for the test he had tomorrow, he decided that he finally earned that delectable bowl of unhealthy but utterly delicious caramel-colored ice cream.

He made his way down to the kitchen, humming an upbeat tune and sliding across the smooth marble floor in his most comfortable pair of socks. Bryce had made it all the way to the freezer, barely moments away from the compartment holding his currently most prized possession when a hasty knock at the front door stopped him in his tracks.

He paused. He was oh so close to getting to his ice cream; maybe it was just a delivery? He debated answering the door or ignoring it and getting the ice cream first. He was starting to lean towards just going for his bowl of ice cream when there was a knock at the door again. With a scowl on his face, he abandoned the freezer and any hope for happiness he had left and made his way to the front door.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” He said in surprise when he saw who was standing at her doorstep.

“I didn’t know who else to go to. Sienna’s out with Danny, and Aurora and Jackie aren’t good in situations like this,” she spoke quietly and sniffled in between sentences, trying not to let any more tears fall down her cheek, “sorry, I just-”

He interrupted her by pulling her into the darkening sky and into his house and arms. She melted into his touch and gripped his shirt tightly as she hugged him back.

“What happened?” he asked softly, rubbing circles into her back with his thumbs.

“Rafael and I broke up.”

Bryce sighed softly and rested his chin on her head. He bit his lip and weighed the options in front of him, before he came to a reluctant conclusion. He pulled away just enough so that he could look her in her teary bloodshot eyes.

“I think this is the part where we break out the ice cream.”

She offered him a slightly trembling smile, “ice cream couldn’t hurt.”

He led her to the kitchen and began digging through the freezer while she hopped onto the counter beside him. He hid a frown from her while in the process of pulling the nearly empty carton of coffee and cookie dough ice cream out of the freezer.

“You wanna tell me what happened?” Bryce asked, retrieving a bowl from one of the cabinets.

“It wasn’t even a bad break up,” Despite her words, she still wiped at her tears using the sleeves of her shirt, “we mutually agreed that it was best for both of us.”

“Yeah?”

She nodded, “he’s just...not the one, I guess.”

Bryce felt something twist and turn in his stomach, and he knew it wasn’t right to be happy when his friend was so miserable, but he was anyway. He did his best to hide the smile that wanted to form at the corners of his mouth, “I’m sorry, Cupcake.”

She laughed, “Cupcake?”

He rolled his eyes, but the grin on his face remained, “I’m trying something new, okay? Running out of nicknames.”

She couldn’t help but match his infectious smile, “you’re not gonna have any ice cream?” she asked as he passed her the bowl.

“Nah, not in the mood for it,” he lied.

“Did you get enough sleep last night, Hon?” She was already in mid-yawn when he had asked the question.

She held a hand over her mouth and nodded, “yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

“You look terrible.”

She scowled at him, “wow, just what a girl wants to hear. Anyone ever tell you you’re one hell of a charmer, Lahela?”

“You’d be surprised, actually,” he gave her a teasing smile, “so who’s the cause for your sleepless night?”

“Napoleon Bonaparte.” She made an emphasis on the textbook in her hands, “Why’d I ever let you convince me to take an AP class with you?”

“Because you so desperately enjoy spending time with me?”

“Nah, that’s not it.”

“Ouch,” Bryce held a hand over his heart, “you really stayed up late studying for the quiz?”

“Some people have to study, okay? Not everyone is as gifted as Bryce flippin’ Lahela.”

“Flippin’? Really?” He stifled a laugh.

“We’re at school, gotta keep it PG,” she shrugged, “so yeah, I stay up and study sometimes. High schoolers aren’t supposed to get a normal amount of sleep, it’s not a big deal.”

“Yeah, well, sometimes I worry about you.”

She tilted her head to the side and gave him a small smile, “you don’t need to worry about me, Bry.”

“Believe me, if I could just shut it off, I would. Look, I’ll make you a stack of flashcards next time so you can get more sleep.”

She was about to say something in response when her phone rang in her pocket, “I should get this.”

She went out into the hallway to answer the call, and Bryce turned back to his lunch, not even bothering to hide his growing smile.

“Bryce.”

He jumped at the sound of a voice and turned to see Sienna sitting at the desk across from him. Had she been listening to them the whole time? He had completely forgotten she was there; a fact he certainly wasn’t about to share with her.

“Yes, Sienna?”

“Do you have a crush on her?”

Bryce blinked a few times, certain that he hadn’t heard Sienna right, “Excuse me?

Sienna rolled her eyes, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, “You heard me right. I’m not blind, Bryce. I see the way you look at her when you think no one is focusing. Do you have a crush on her?”

“That’s ridiculous, where’d you even get the idea from?”” He made a face like he was disgusted by the very thought of it.

“Oh, I dunno, you just do whatever it takes to make her happy. Not to mention that you have a different pet name for her every time I see you two, seems pretty affectionate to me, Bryce.” She did always have a talent for laying out the facts.

“We’ve been friends since before I could remember, of course I care about her. And so what if I have a nickname for her? It doesn’t mean anything.”

“It’s not like you have a nickname for anyone else.”

“I call you...Si...all the time,” he paused to rethink what he just said, “I have a nickname for everyone.”

“We both know that’s a load of B.S, are you really telling me that you don’t like her?”

“I don’t like her,” and it wasn’t an exact lie, because the feelings he had for her had progressed far beyond liking.

“There’s nothing people appreciate more than a hand-made gift, right?” She said and pulled out a ball of azure coloured yarn.

Bryce crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against a wall, “Sure, except maybe a nice Rolex or a new car.”

She gave him a look, “I don’t know what it is about me that makes you think I can afford a Rolex or a new car. I’m an unemployed high school student, my only income comes in the form of birthday cards from my grandparents.”

“Well, I’m sure Sienna will love the scarf you make for her.”

“Yeah, how hard could it be?” She muttered and stared blankly at the mess of strings in her lap.

His eyes widened a little, “Wait, you’re telling me you’ve never crocheted before?”

“I'll get the hang of it soon enough,” she pulled up a beginners guide on YouTube, and five minutes later, she had a knotted pile of yarn in her hands. She huffed in frustration and began to aggressively pull at the yarn.

“Let me help you.”

“You? Know how to knit?” She raised a skeptical eyebrow at him.

Bryce rolled his eyes, sitting next to her and taking the “scarf” out of her hands, “This is crocheting. You don’t even use knitting needles”

“Apologies. And how do you even know how to crochet?”

“I may or may not have taken lessons a couple summers back to impress Alisson Rivers?” He admitted, quickly untangling her “progress” and began to expertly thread the loops of yarn together. He held up his work to her once a pattern had begun to form, “being incredibly sexy has its perks,” he jokingly winked at her.

“I hate that you’re good at everything.”

He snorted and gently began to move the work into her hands for her to finish the rest, “Not everything, maybe just most things.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” She waved him off, now laser-focused on the project in front of her and determined to get it right that time. Bryce gave her tips and advice every once in a while, but for the most part, he let her work on it by herself. She was a fast learner.

“Sweethea-” Bryce cut himself off, remembering the conversation he had with Sienna earlier. He cleared his throat, “you’re never gonna get it like that.”

She looked up at him with furrowed brows, “What?” He swallowed roughly and shook his head, “It’s nothing. Just...you’re going to wanna pull the yarn a little tighter or it’s all going to unravel before you’re even finished.”

“Oh,” She gave him a thankful smile, “thanks, Bryce.”

It was almost 2 in the morning, and she knew that getting any more than four of sleep was out of the equation at that point. She wasn’t exactly trying very hard to sleep. She had tried to refresh her Instagram feed maybe two dozen times now, but it wasn’t as if anyone was going to post in the middle of the night. And even so, Instagram was doing a fairly poor job at keeping her mind distracted.

Sighing out in frustration, she threw her body back onto her bed with a loud sigh. She wrinkled her nose and finally caved in to her temptations, navigating to the facetime app on her phone. Hesitating one last time, she tapped his contact with her thumb. The phone began to hum as she waited for him to pick up.

“Hey, Bry. I know it’s late,” she said when he finally answered the phone. She frowned when he realised he was still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, “sorry, did I wake you up?”

“No, no. I couldn’t sleep anyway,” replied his groggy and raspy voice.

“I know you’re lying, Bryce. Don’t worry about it, go back to sleep”

“I was already up.”

“No, you weren’t. It’s really fine, don’t let me bother you.

He stopped rubbing his eyes and looked at her firmly through the camera, “Maybe I was asleep, but I’m up now, aren’t I? Don’t worry about waking me up. Besides, I’d much rather be talking to you.’

She pursed her lips, giving him a doubtful look. He was too polite to ever tell her if she was bothering him. She couldn’t tell if he genuinely wanted to talk to her, or if he was too courteous to tell her otherwise.

He noticed the look she gave him, “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you don’t believe me. I would’ve stopped being friends with you years ago if I didn’t find all your annoying habits endearing as hell. I promise,” he shot her a smug smile that almost made her wish she hadn’t called him up.

“How kind of you,” she said sarcastically.

“I try,” his grin widened, if that were even possible, “so what did you want to talk to me about?”

She chewed on her bottom lip and shrugged, “I dunno.”

“You don’t?” Bryce narrowed his eyes and leaned closer to the camera. After he had examined her carefully, he leaned back and crossed his arms, “Yeah you do. What is it?”

She shifted uncomfortably by how easy it was for him to see right through her. Once more that night, she caved, “Earlier, when you told me to tighten the yarn. You stopped yourself from calling me ‘sweetheart’.”

He tensed, but she didn’t notice, “I mean, what’s so unusual about that? That's a perfectly normal thing for someone to do.”

“I know,” she nodded, “but you always call me some cheesy pet name. Always. So, did something happen? Are you mad at me?”

He raised an eyebrow and shook his head, “No, of course not. Everything’s fine,” he paused, “that really upset you?”

“It’s just that you’ve always had a nickname for me, I guess I got used to it.”

He laughed through his nose and couldn’t stop the amused smile from spreading across his lips, “Okay, Boo.”

“Am I finally going to get to see your mural?”

Bryce rolled his eyes, “It isn’t my mural, Love. It’s the senior mural, it’s not like I’m painting it.”

“Yeah, but it was your idea,” she gave him a playful nudge, “I don’t know why you haven’t told me what it is yet. I’m sure if the amazing Bryce Lahela designed it, it’ll be the best senior mural this school has ever seen.

“Don’t get your hopes up, Babe. I’d hate to disappoint you.”

“You could never disappoint me,” she said matter-of-factly, “you’re Bryce Lahela.”

They turned the corner to see their fellow senior, Kyra Santana, working on the mural. The previously beige wall was now covered in black, gray, and light blue paint. In the middle of the painting was a figure made up of colourful handprints standing above the blue-gray ocean in front of them.

She stared at the mural with an open mouth. She glanced from Kyra, to Bryce, then back to the artwork in front of her.

“It was my idea to make the figure all colourful with the handprints,” Bryce said, “I thought it would be nice to let our class literally leave a mark on this school.”

Kyra smiled at the mural and set her paintbrush down, “I was a great idea, the splash of colour is just what it needed,” she turned to her, “what do you think?”

“Like it? No, I...I love it, it’s perfect,” she turned to Bryce with wide eyes, “Wanderer above the Sea of Fog, this is my favourite painting.”

“I noticed--don’t give me that look. It’s not like I care that much, you just never shut up about this painting. It’s annoying, really,” he muttered, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck and looking down at his shoes.

She smiled and turned her attention back to the mural, “I can’t even begin to tell you how much I love this. I can’t believe you remembered.”

“Of course. It’s worth it, seeing how much you like it.”

There was a beat of silence.

“You’re the kind of person I could fall in love with, you know that?” She didn’t take her eyes off the wall that the mural proudly sat on, and Bryce was glad.

Maybe if she had looked at him, she would have seen his breath catch in his throat and his eyes widen just a little bit. If he was the kind of person she could fall in love with, then why didn’t she? Bryce was flustered, and if she had noticed his lack of response, she didn’t mention it.

10.

Their high school was filled with rich kids. Their high school also had a debate team with a minimal number of members. These factors resulted in Bryce and her having their own separate hotel rooms when they attended a debate function in Washington D.C.

After a long day of debating and watching other teams debate, she and Bryce walked side by side down the narrow corridor to their respective rooms. Every now and then, they sneaked looks at each other when they thought the other wouldn’t notice.

Bryce cleared his throat, “So that guy in the blue shirt asked me for your number.”

She glanced up at him, “He did? Did you give it to him?”

“No.”

“What? Why not?”

“Thought he was out of your league. I told him you snored like an ogre and gave him Jackie’s number instead,” he said with a careless shrug.

She gasped and shoved his shoulder, “Are you kidding me? You know I don’t snore, he was cute and interested in me!”

“Can’t imagine why.”

She scowled, “For your information, I’m adorable. I’m funny, enjoyable to be around, and have a high tolerance for assholes who shut down opportunities for their friends. And I’m extremely attractive, which is an added plus.”

“You don’t need to sell me on reasons why you’re dateable,” he chuckled softly.

“Oh yeah?”

At that very moment, they turned to face each other. Their teasing banter stopped when they realised that they were only inches apart, able to hear every inhale and exhale of the other. His gaze flickered down to her lips, and it was only for a second, but she hadn’t missed a single bit of it.

Bryce took a step back and cleared his throat, standing rather uncomfortably, “It’s late, we should go to bed. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” she echoed before they both hurriedly turned around and stepped into their own rooms.

Had he almost kissed her? Did that really just happen? Her mind wandered as she leaned against her hotel room door.

Maybe she had just imagined it. She shook the thought out of her head and grabbed a sweatshirt along with a pair of shorts out of her suitcase. Maybe she would stop thinking about it after a good night's rest. She changed, brushed her teeth, and was about to turn the lights off when she felt that nagging feeling bubble up in the pits of her stomach once more.

It was naive to think her mind would stop racing that night if she didn’t confront Bryce about it. She set the covers that were in her hands down and made her way out into the fluorescent-lit hallway. She had made it all the way to his door when she stopped herself.

Was that really what she wanted to do? If she brought up their almost-kiss, would they ever be able to go back to being friends? Did she even want them to go back to being just friends? She bit her lip and glanced back at her own room door. She should’ve just gone to bed, it wasn’t worth putting their entire friendship on the line. But then again, she would always wonder what could have happened if she never followed her gut.

She raised her fist to knock on his door, but before she could make contact, the door swung open. They once more stood face to face, their wide-eyed expressions mirroring each other. For a moment in time, all that stood between them were the accelerated heartbeat and the flutters they felt for one another.

Bryce’s arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her closer to him. Her hand had found its place on the back of his neck and guided his lips to hers. His eyes were half-open, sneaking glances at her to assure himself that he wasn’t dreaming. Her overwhelming scent and the feeling of his hands threaded through her hair were all too real.

He pulled her into his room, kicking the closed door behind him. Placing both hands on his broad chest, she pushed him back onto the bed and climbed on top of him, straddling his hips.

Thoughts were racing in her mind. She tried to put reason to the way he gripped her waist so tightly that there were sure to be bruises there the very next day. She tried to put reason to the way his pupils dilated as she went in for another kiss; she came up empty-handed.

There was no way she felt the same, Bryce told himself. There was no way that she loved him the way he loved her. For as long as he could remember, he had been in love with her, and for as long as he could remember, she had only seen him as her friend.

He missed the warmth of her lips when she pulled away, but he couldn’t help but admire the way her lips were slightly swollen and her hair was a mess. Her eyes were mesmerising, and the way the light highlighted the softness of her skin made him fall even more. He took that moment to memorise every line and curve of her face, forever branding that memory into his head.

She leaned in to kiss him again, but he pushed her away this time and sat up, “Stop. we...we can’t do this. This can’t just be a one-time thing.”

“What?”

He felt his heart twist inside his chest and he clenched his jaw, “Because I love you.”

Her lips curled up in a smile, “I love you too.”

27 notes · View notes

silent-era-of-cinema · 3 years

Text

Hans Walter Conrad Veidt (22 January 1893 – 3 April 1943) was a German actor best remembered for his roles in the films Different from the Others (1919), The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (1920), and The Man Who Laughs (1928). After a successful career in German silent films, where he was one of the best-paid stars of UFA, he and his new Jewish wife Ilona Prager were forced to leave Germany in 1933 after the Nazis came to power. The couple settled in Britain, where he took British citizenship in 1939. He appeared in many British films, including The Thief of Bagdad (1940), before emigrating to the United States around 1941, which led to his being cast as Major Strasser in Casablanca (1942).

Hans Walter Conrad Veidt was born in his parents' home at Tieckstraße 39 in Berlin to Amalie Marie (née Gohtz) and Philipp Heinrich Veidt, a former military man turned civil servant. Veidt would later recall, “Like many fathers, he was affectionately autocratic in his home life, strict, idealistic. He was almost fanatically conservative.” By contrast, Amalie was sensitive and nurturing. Veidt was nicknamed 'Connie' by his family and friends. His family was Lutheran, and Veidt was confirmed in a ceremony at the Protestant Evangelical Church in Alt-Schöneberg, Berlin on 5 March 1908. Veidt's only sibling, an older brother named Karl, died in 1900 of scarlet fever at the age of 9. The family spent their summers in Potsdam.

Two years after Karl's death, Veidt's father fell ill and required heart surgery. Knowing that the family could not afford to pay the lofty fee that accompanied the surgery, the doctor charged only what the family could comfortably pay. Impressed by the surgeon's skill and kindness, Veidt vowed to "model my life on the man that saved my father's life" and he wished to become a surgeon. His hopes for a medical career were thwarted, though, when in 1912 he graduated without a diploma and ranked 13th out of 13 pupils and became discouraged over the amount of study necessary for him to qualify for medical school.

A new career path for Veidt opened up in 1911 during a school Christmas play in which he delivered a long prologue before the curtain rose. The play was badly received, and the audience was heard to mutter, "Too bad the others didn't do as well as Veidt." Veidt began to study all of the actors he could and wanted to pursue a career in acting, much to the disappointment of his father, who called actors 'gypsys' and 'outcasts'.

With the money he raised from odd jobs and the allowance his mother gave him, Veidt began attending Berlin's many theaters. He loitered outside of the Deutsches Theater after every performance, waiting for the actors and hoping to be mistaken for one. In the late summer of 1912 he met a theater porter who introduced him to actor Albert Blumenreich, who agreed to give Veidt acting lessons for six marks. He took ten lessons from him before auditioning for Max Reinhardt, reciting Goethe's Faust. During Veidt's audition, Reinhardt looked out of the window the entire time. He offered Veidt a contract as an extra for one season's work, from September 1913 to August 1914 with a pay of 50 marks a month. During this time, he played bit parts as spear carriers and soldiers. His mother attended almost every performance. His contract with the Deutsches Theater was renewed for a second season, but by this time World War I had begun, and on 28 December 1914, Veidt enlisted in the army.

In 1915, he was sent to the Eastern Front as a non-commissioned officer and took part in the Battle of Warsaw. He contracted jaundice and pneumonia, and had to be evacuated to a hospital on the Baltic Sea. While recuperating, he received a letter from his girlfriend Lucie Mannheim, telling him that she had found work at the Front Theatre in Libau. Intrigued, Veidt applied for the theatre as well. As his condition had not improved, the army allowed him to join the theatre so that he could entertain the troops. While performing at the theatre, his relationship with Mannheim ended. In late 1916, he was re-examined by the Army and deemed unfit for service; he was given a full discharge on 10 January 1917. Veidt returned to Berlin where he was readmitted to the Deutsches Theater. There, he played a small part as a priest that got him his first rave review, the reviewer hoping that "God would keep Veidt from the films." or "God save him from the cinema!"

From 1917 until his death, Veidt appeared in more than 100 films. One of his earliest performances was as the murderous somnambulist Cesare in director Robert Wiene's The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (1920), a classic of German Expressionist cinema, with Werner Krauss and Lil Dagover. His starring role in The Man Who Laughs (1928), as a disfigured circus performer whose face is cut into a permanent grin, provided the (visual) inspiration for the Batman villain the Joker. Veidt starred in other silent horror films such as The Hands of Orlac (1924), also directed by Robert Wiene, The Student of Prague (1926) and Waxworks (1924), in which he played Ivan the Terrible. Veidt also appeared in Magnus Hirschfeld's film Anders als die Andern (Different from the Others, 1919), one of the earliest films to sympathetically portray homosexuality, although the characters in it do not end up happily. He had a leading role in Germany's first talking picture, Das Land ohne Frauen (Land Without Women, 1929).

He moved to Hollywood in the late 1920s and made a few films there, but the advent of talking pictures and his difficulty with speaking English led him to return to Germany. During this period, he lent his expertise to tutoring aspiring performers, one of whom was the later American character actress Lisa Golm.

Veidt fervently opposed the Nazi regime and later donated a major portion of his personal fortune to Britain to assist in the war effort. Soon after the Nazi Party took power in Germany, by March 1933, Joseph Goebbels was purging the film industry of anti-Nazi sympathizers and Jews, and so in April 1933, a week after Veidt's marriage to Ilona Prager, a Jewish woman, the couple emigrated to Britain before any action could be taken against either of them.

Goebbels had imposed a "racial questionnaire" in which everyone employed in the German film industry had to declare their "race" to continue to work. When Veidt was filling in the questionnaire, he answered the question about what his Rasse (race) was by writing that he was a Jude (Jew). Veidt was not Jewish, but his wife was Jewish, and Veidt would not renounce the woman he loved. Additionally, Veidt, who was opposed to antisemitism, wanted to show solidarity with the German Jewish community, who were in the process of being stripped of their rights as German citizens in the spring of 1933. As one of Germany's most prominent actors, Veidt had been informed that if he were prepared to divorce his wife and declare his support for the new regime, he could continue to act in Germany. Several other leading actors who had been opposed to the Nazis before 1933 switched allegiances. In answering the questionnaire by stating he was a Jew, Veidt rendered himself unemployable in Germany, but stated this sacrifice was worth it as there was nothing in the world that would compel him to break with his wife. Upon hearing about what Veidt had done, Goebbels remarked that he would never act in Germany again.

After arriving in Britain, Veidt perfected his English and starred in the title roles of the original anti-Nazi versions of The Wandering Jew (1933) and Jew Süss (1934), the latter film was directed by the exiled German-born director Lothar Mendes and produced by Michael Balcon for Gaumont-British. He naturalised as a British subject on 25 February 1939. By this point multi-lingual, Veidt made films both in French with expatriate French directors and in English, including three of his best-known roles for British director Michael Powell in The Spy in Black (1939), Contraband (1940) and The Thief of Bagdad (1940).

By 1941, he and Ilona had settled in Hollywood to assist in the British effort in making American films that might persuade the then-neutral and still isolationist US to join the war against the Nazis, who at that time controlled all of continental Europe and were bombing the United Kingdom. Before leaving the United Kingdom, Veidt gave his life savings to the British government to help finance the war effort. Realizing that Hollywood would most likely typecast him in Nazi roles, he had his contract mandate that they must always be villains.

He starred in a few films, such as George Cukor's A Woman's Face (1941) where he received billing under Joan Crawford's and Nazi Agent (1942), in which he had a dual role as both an aristocratic German Nazi spy and the man's twin brother, an anti-Nazi American. His best-known Hollywood role was as the sinister Major Heinrich Strasser in Casablanca (1942), a film which began pre-production before the United States entered World War II. Commenting about this well-received role, Veidt noted that it was an ironical twist of that that he was praised "for portraying the kind of character who had forced him to leave his homeland".

Veidt enjoyed sports, gardening, swimming, golfing, classical music, and reading fiction and nonfiction (including occultism; Veidt once considered himself a powerful medium). He was afraid of heights and flying, and disliked interviews and wearing ties.

In a September 1941 interview with Silver Screen, Veidt said,

I see a man who was once for years studying occult things. The science of occult things. I had the feeling there must be – something else. There are things in our world we cannot trace. I wanted to trace them. The power we have to think, to move, to speak, to feel – is it electricity, I wanted to know? Is it magnetism? Is it the heart? Is it the blood? When the body dies, where is all that? Where is the power that made the body live? No one can tell me it is not somewhere. If you believe in waves, which you must believe after you have the radio, why couldn't human beings contact the wave lengths of someone who is dead? ... this is the kind of thing with which I was, for many years, preoccupied. This is what I tried to find, the answer. I did not find it. But in looking for it there was etched, perhaps, on my face, some hint of the strange cabals I kept with unseen and unknown powers. I did not find it, I say. But I found something else. Something better. I found –faith. I found the ability, very peaceful, to accept that which I could neither see, nor hear nor touch. I am a religious man. My belief is that if we could help to make all people a little more religious, we would do a great lot. If we would pray more ... we forget to pray except when we are in a mess. That is too bad. I believe in prayer. Because when we pray, we always pray for something good.

He went on:

I must tell you something that will disappoint you ... far from being one engaged in strangle rituals of thought or action, what I like best to do is sit in this small garden, on this terrace, and – just sit. Sometimes, I confess, I think a lot; about my past. About my parents who are dead. I like to dream, to go away ... At other times, I sit and read. I read, often, a whole day through. I play golf. I used to be a golf fiend. Now I am not a fiend even on the links. Now I play because it is relaxation. I like the beach very much, the sea. I go to the films often, to the neighborhood theater, my wife and I. Sometimes we go to the Palladium, where there is dancing. It is an amazing sight to me to see young people, how they are like they were thirty years ago, how they hold hands, how they enjoy their lives. To me, the most beautiful thing in California is the Hollywood Bowl, the Concerts Under the Stars. For me, it is a terrific experience. I have never seen an audience in my life like that. 30,000 people, simple people, most of them, listening to music under the stars. I have never seen 30,000 people, simple people, so quiet. I like to think of them as a symbol that one day there may be that oneness for all mankind....

On 18 June 1918, Veidt married Gussy Holl, a cabaret entertainer. They had first met at a party in March 1918, and Conrad described her to friends as "very lovely, tall, dignified and somewhat aloof". They separated in 1919 but attempted to reconcile multiple times. Holl and Veidt divorced in 1922.

Veidt said of Holl, "She was as perfect as any wife could be. But I had not learnt how to be a proper husband." and, "I was elated by my success in my work, but shattered over my mother's death, and miserable about the way my marriage seemed to be foundering. And one day when my wife was away, I walked out of the house, and out of her life, trying to escape from something I could put no name to."

After his separation and eventual divorce from Holl, Veidt allegedly dated his co-star Anita Berber.

Veidt's second wife Felizitas Radke was from an aristocratic Austrian family. They met at a party in December 1922 or at a Charleston dance competition in 1923. Radke divorced her husband for him, and they married in April 1923. Their daughter, Vera Viola Maria, nicknamed "Kiki", was born on 10 August 1925. He was not present at her birth due to being in Italy working on The Fiddler of Florence, but upon hearing of her birth, he took the first train to Berlin and flailed and wept as he first met mother and child at the hospital; he was so hysterical from joy they had to sedate him and keep him in the hospital overnight.

Emil Jannings was Viola's godfather and Elisabeth Bergner was her godmother. She was named after one of Bergner's signature characters, Shakespeare's Viola. The birth of his daughter helped Veidt move on from the death of his dearly loved mother, who had died of a heart condition in January 1922.

From September 1926 to 1929 Veidt lived with his wife and daughter in a Spanish-style house in Beverly Hills.

Veidt enjoyed relaxing and playing with his daughter in their home, and enjoyed the company of the immigrant community, including F. W. Murnau, Carl Laemmle, and Greta Garbo, as well as the American Gary Cooper. The family returned to Germany in 1929, and moved several times afterwards, including a temporary relocation to Vienna, Austria, while Veidt participated in a theatrical tour of the continent.

Radke and Veidt divorced in 1932, with Radke citing that the frequent relocations and the separations necessitated by Veidt's acting schedule frayed their marriage. Radke at first granted custody of their daughter to Veidt, but after further consideration he decided that their daughter needed the full-time parent that his work would not allow him to be. Conrad received generous visitation rights, and Viola called her summer vacations with her father "The Happy Times". She stayed with him three or four months of the year until the outbreak of World War II.

He last married Ilona "Lilli" Barta Prager (or Preger), a Hungarian Jew, in Berlin on 30 March 1933; they remained together until his death. The two had met at a club in Berlin. Veidt said of Lilli in an October 1934 interview with The Sunday Dispatch,

Lilli was the woman I had been seeking all my life. For her I was the man. In Lilli I found the miracle of a woman who had all to give that I sought, the perfect crystallisation in one lovely human being, of all my years of searching. Lilli had the mother complex too. But in the reverse ratio to mine. In her, the mother instinct was so powerful that she poured it out, indiscriminately almost, on everyone she knew. She mothers her own mother. Meeting Lilli was like coming home to an enchanted place one had always dreamed of, but never thought to reach. For her it was the same. Our marriage is not only flawless, it is a complete and logical union, as inevitable as daybreak after night, as harmonious and right as the words that exactly fit the music. My search is finished. The picture in my mind of my mother is of a woman great and holy. But it is a picture clear and. distinct, a deep and humble memory of a woman no one could replace; but now it is not blurred by the complex which before had harassed my mind.

Veidt and Lilli arrived from London at Los Angeles on 13 June 1940 and resided in Beverly Hills, where they lived at 617 North Camden Drive.

Even after leaving England, Veidt was concerned over the plight of children cooped up in London air raid shelters, and he decided to try to cheer up their holiday. Through his attorneys in London, Veidt donated enough money to purchase 2,000 one-pound tins of candy, 2,000 large packets of chocolate, and 1,000 wrapped envelopes containing presents of British currency. The gifts went to children of needy families in various air raid shelters in the London area during Christmas 1940. The air raid shelter marshal wrote back to Veidt thanking him for the gifts. Noting Veidt's unusual kindness, he stated in his letter to him, "It is significant to note that, as far as is known to me, you are the only member of the Theatrical Profession who had the thought to send Christmas presents to the London children."

Veidt smuggled his parents-in-law from Austria to neutral Switzerland, and in 1935 he managed to get the Nazi government to let his ex-wife Radke and their daughter move to Switzerland. He also offered to help Felizita's mother, Frau Radke, of whom he was fond, leave Germany. However, she declined. A proud, strong-willed woman who was attached to her home country, she declared that "no damned little Austrian Nazi corporal" was going to make her leave her home. She reportedly survived the war, but none of the Veidts ever saw her again.

Veidt was bisexual and a feminist. In a 1941 interview he said,

There are two different kinds of men. There are the men men, what do you call them, the man's man, who likes men around, who prefers to talk with men, who says the female can never be impersonal, who takes the female lightly, as playthings. I do not see a man like that in my mirror. Perhaps, it is because I think the female and the male attract better than two men, that I prefer to talk with females. I do. I find it quite as stimulating and distinctly more comfortable. I have a theory about this – it all goes back to the mother complex. In every woman, the man who looks may find – his mother. The primary source of all his comfort. I think also that females have become too important just to play with. When men say the female cannot discuss impersonally, that is no longer so. When it is said that females cannot be geniuses, that is no longer so, either. The female is different from the male. Because she was born to be a mother. There is no doubt about that. But that does not mean that, in some cases, she is not also born a genius. Not all males are geniuses either. And among females today there are some very fine actresses, very fine; fine doctors, lawyers, even scientists and industrialists. I see no fault in any female when she wears slacks, smokes (unless it is on the street, one thing, the only thing, which I don't like), when she drives a car ... when men say things like "I bet it is a woman driving" if something is wrong with the car ahead – no, no. These are old, worn out prejudices, they do not belong in today.

In the 1930s, Veidt discovered that he had the same heart condition that his mother had died from. The condition was further aggravated by chain smoking, and Veidt took nitroglycerin tablets.

Veidt died of a massive heart attack on 3 April 1943 while playing golf at the Riviera Country Club in Los Angeles with singer Arthur Fields and his personal physician, Dr. Bergman, who pronounced him dead at the scene. He had suddenly gasped and fallen over after getting to the eighth hole. He was 50 years old. His ex-wife Felizitas and his daughter Viola found out about his death via a radio broadcast in Switzerland.

In 1998, his ashes, along with his wife Lilli's, were placed in a niche of the columbarium at the Golders Green Crematorium in north London.

#conrad veidt #silent era #silent hollywood #silent movie stars #classic hollywood #classic movie stars #golden age of hollywood #1910s movies #1920s hollywood #1930s hollywood #1940s hollywood

19 notes · View notes

the-silvertonguewitch · 3 years

Text

Musings on Lyra’s journey in TSC

I’ve been thinking a lot about Lyra’s journey in the second and (upcoming) third book of the Book of Dust series. Especially about the hints and clues from TSC pointing to some eventual “sacrifice” (to get Pan back, to enter the red building) in the final book. Beware: spoilers for TSC below.

I don’t think that Will and Lyra reunite, or see each other again. Pullman could’ve made it work at some point, but not after TSC. Lyra’s journey there is too dependent on Will not coming back.

Let me explain. Lyra and Will could’ve chosen to stay together. They could’ve made the choice to live a very shortened life together. We know why they didn’t: as Will puts it, one of them would’ve died young, leaving the other grief stricken, and it would’ve meant two lives wasted. On the flipside, they would’ve loved each other deeply and intensely – probably more deeply and more intensely than most, since they would’ve known from the beginning that their years together were counted – and it would’ve been, all in all, two short lives well spent.

Again, they could’ve chosen that. Instead, at the end of TAS, they decide to give a life without each other a chance.

But what’s been life for Lyra so far, eight years later? She’s a student at St-Sophia, a good one, gets good grades, is probably somewhat interested – but doesn’t sound passionate – about what she’s studying. Friends at school? There’s Miriam – more a casual class buddy than a real intimate BFF. Lovers? There’s Dick Orchard, though from the look of it their relationship erred more on the “friends with benefit” side (and at some point, it’s strongly implied that Lyra never touched Dick’s daemon Bindi, contrasting the deep, soul-like connection she had with Will). She forbids herself from getting too close with boys she might fall in love with (coughMalcoughcom) out of fear of being unfaithful to Will’s memory. All in all, it’s exactly like what she tells Farder Coram: “I thought all the danger was over… Everything, the good as well as the bad, it was all over. There was nothing left but learning and… Well, just that, really.” (TSC, p. 280) She adopts the new trendy way of thinking of Brande and Talbot, one of cold rationality, hard facts, a black and white representation of the world, because Brande and Talbot’s philosophy deny the reality itself of every traumatic experience she had to go through between 11 and 13: the knowledge of who her parents were (as well as the lack of closure in her relationship with both of them), being almost separated from Pan in Bolvangar, Roger’s death, coming across soul-eating specters, having Pan ripped out of her heart, loosing Will. If daemons don’t exist, if there’s no land of the dead and no specters, if love is nothing but a fancy of the mind, then Lyra can’t be hurt by these things, unless by deluding herself into believing that they’re real. Her fascination with Brande and Talbot is a coping mechanism, and it could almost work, except that it’s the perfect recipe for a bleh, bland life.

Fact is, TSC’s Lyra probably, consciously or not (but more consciously than not, I’d wager), regret parting from Will. If she had gone with him into his world, she’d be in pretty bad shape by now but so what? She would’ve been happy. Happier, at least. Fulfilled.

I even wonder if that isn’t one of the reasons behind her estrangement with Pan. Going with Will would’ve meant choosing love over life, and what is a person’s daemon, if not that person’s “life”, in animal form? Why else would daemons disappear when their person dies? Why else would they be forbidden from crossing into the land of the dead?

And so, maybe, her journey in the TSC is about discovering that the choice she made in TAS wasn’t a “wrong” one after all. That she can still live a wholesome, fulfilling life, and that she can still love as deeply as she once did with Will. That she can still hope.

This doesn’t mean that Lyra will love Malcolm “more” than Will, nor the other way around (that Malcolm would merely be the “second choice”, the best she could hope for if she can’t be with Will). Pullman pulls tricks like these all the time. He did it with Jim and Sally, and with Ginny in The Broken Bridge, and now he’s doing it with Lyra too: protagonists falling deeply in love with someone, loosing that love, and unexpectedly finding another love. That “other” love is never presented as “more” or “less” than the first, because that’s not the point. The point is that there’s always hope.

Strangely enough, Lyra and Malcolm’s journeys in TSC have quite a few parallels with Lyra and Will in TSK (and somewhat in TAS too, though I expect the third installment of TBoD to have more parallels with TAS specifically). Only this time, Lyra is Will and Malcolm is Lyra. Lyra is the one without a daemon, the odd one out, the one who makes herself invisible, who’s desperately looking for a lost loved one, who can’t return home, who finds comfort in letters written by someone she cares for, who gets her hand badly wounded in a fight. Malcom is the one searching for Dust rose oil, the straight-face liar, the slightly obnoxious, the one who gets out of sticky situations all the time but still ends up drugged and passed out in a train (but not in a suitcase at least). I’m not sure where the story is going with this or what’s the purpose of these parallels, though I’d guess that they contain some hints and clues of what’s gonna happen in the last BoD. Lyra’s journey doesn’t only boil down to romance either. Romantic love, and all other kinds of love, is just a part of Lyra’s lost “shadow”. Or Lyra’s lost “Dust”, as I believe that that’s what the “shadow” refers to in the poem of Jahan and Rukhsana. Malcolm concludes that Rukhsana’s stolen shadow = Lyra’s daemon Pan, but I’m not sure if Pullman isn’t pulling another trick on us, because –

“Nevertheless, that shadow-colored cat on the moonlit lawn…” (TSC, 143)

“As if Gottfried Brande was some kind of enchanter who made you forget everything you used to love, everything mysterious, all the places where the shadows are.” (TSC, 175)

“You’re expecting the sun to describe shadows. The sun has never seen a shadow.”

“But the world is full of shadows.” […] “I came here”, Pan said, “because reading your novel persuaded my Lyra that the things she believed in were false. It made her bitterly unhappy. It was as if you’d stolen her imagination and taken away her hope with it.” (TSC, 360-361)

I could probably quote more, but you get the picture. It seems like what Lyra hopes to find in the red building is Dust/shadow particles – meaning that she, too, knows that *something* was taken from her – and she hopes to find it there, specifically, probably because she’s already unconsciously linked the red building to the world of the Mulefas, where the flow of Dust was so abundant and where she and Will kissed for the first time.

All that to say, Rukhsana’s stolen shadow = Lyra’s stolen imagination/Dust. Or so I believe for now. We’ll see.

It’s complicated, though, because in the poem, Rukhsana must make a great sacrifice to get her shadow back, and likewise Lyra’s told by that alchemist in Prague that she’ll have to make a great sacrifice to get Pan back – and even then, that she’ll get him back, but “not in the way” she’d expect. We also learn from Dr. Strauss’s journal that entering the red building costs a life. Another sacrifice, another place.

For Pan, I have my own guesses. The “sacrifice” will either be 1) Lyra giving up absolute rationality, which means she’ll also have to face all the traumas she’s been repressing and discounting as “not real” so far, or 2) Pan will return to Lyra, but as an invisible part of her or hidden inside of her, like peoples’ “daemons” from Will’s world. They’ll never part again, but Lyra will lose the companionship that she had with an external part of herself. Hence Pan not returning to her “in the way she thinks”.

Actually, I’d think that we could see 1) and 2) both. In TSC, Lyra questions the realness of daemons and it would be almost too easy to deny their existence altogether if they weren’t visible. Obviously TBoD will not end with Lyra now enlightened with the understanding that Pan never existed and was just a “projection of the mind”, so for Pan to disappear inside of her, and for her to truly believe in his existence regardless, would point to some significant change of faith, which is probably what the books are building up to anyway.

The “sacrifice” needed to enter the red building is even murkier. From Strauss’s journal, it’s sort of implied that Strauss and Cariad were the “payment” for the rose specimens given to Hassall, so I’m not sure if the sacrifice “pays” for an entrance into the building, or if it pays for the knowledge of what’s inside it. Besides, Lyra and Malcolm are probably both going in – or, rather, Malcolm was sent there by Oakley Street with the official purpose of gathering information while Lyra is traveling to Karamakan with the intent of entering the building, so they both seem set up to parallel Dr. Hassall (Malcolm) and Dr. Strauss (Lyra), respectively; however, once they reach the place they’ll obviously both go in, so the “life payment” might not be required.

How they’ll trick their way into leaving the red building is another matter. Again, I’d expect some nods and callbacks to TAS, especially the part where Will and Lyra managed against all odds to escape from the world of the dead. Back then they had the knife and Lyra’s imagination (part of the deal was that they’d tell stories to the harpies in exchange for their help at finding the way out). Might be that Lyra’s newly returned talent at storytelling comes in handy this time again. Or maybe – and this is just a very big MAYBE –

The story she will tell in the red building is the poem of Jahan and Rukhsana. Oh, but what if it must be a true story? Well actually, it is, and Lyra and Malcolm are right there to prove it. How “true” the story is, that’s like asking how true to reality a metaphor is. It’s a matter of perception, or rather, imagination.

#HDM metas #his dark materials #the secret commonwealth #lyra silvertongue #lyra belacqua #malcolm polstead #my metas #hdm spoilers

23 notes · View notes