#i hate to say it but i wonder if they might beat poland?

[vierschanzentournee]

The 8 teams for today's team competition in Bischofshofen

#ski jumping #i think it's cool that russia actually has a few semi-decent jumpers rn #sadreev's been doing pretty well; mankov does alright when he's in the mood; and klimov's had at least some points lately #i hate to say it but i wonder if they might beat poland? #depends on whether zyla and kubacki show up or not

[mikkomacko]

Dear Daisy 5

Daisy never realized how big the house is until Harry's not there. Without his large personality sitting at the table, or his lanky legs kicked up on the coffee table while he works, or his broad body moving around the kitchen, Daisy feels like she's living in an empty palace. It's gotten to the point that she hates being at the house, but going to visit her family is just as depressing with them now crying over Sterling's departure. Her father's taken up more work with Thomas, hoping to make up for the usual revenue Sterling brings into the family. It's not much seeing as most of her brother's earnings goes into his personal savings so he can afford to marry Stella and take care of her. Daisy tried spending time with her future sister too, but that ended up being even more depressing then staring at Harry's empty couch cushion. So she goes on walks now. She's been putting off walking through the park because it reminds her of Harry now, and she stays as far away from the beach as possible. That really only leaves the town for her to walk through, but she likes the shops so she doesn't mind. She hardly buys anything, but the browsing keeps her mind off of Harry and how much she misses him and if he's okay. Her favorite shop to go in is the local bakery, owned a ran by a man named Robin and his kids. It's nice to sit at one of the tables, picking at a scone or mini pie and watch Robin teach his son's to roll out dough correctly and cut shapes into the pies. The three men are always so happy and carefree, and the feeling rubs off on her after sitting there for a bit.

Today, however, is different.

The bell above the door chimes as she pushes it open, stepping into the little shop and expecting a smile from Richard who's usually behind the counter. He's not there today, and walking up to the counter she realizes that Sam isn't either. It's just Robin, lips drooping down in the corners as he dusts some flower onto his apron. Daisy's smile falls, confused by the unusual gloomy mood in the bakery.

"Oh, hello Daisy." Robin greets when he notices her, offering her a pathetic smile. Daisy rests her elbows on the counter, holding her chin up.

"Is everything okay Robin?"

The man shrugs, shaking his head with a sad chuckle. "My boys left today," he mumbles, "one of them to the Poland, the other Germany."

Her heart falls to her stomach, and she thinks of Harry again. She's so worried knowing he's in France, she can't imagine how upsetting it'd be if he were sent to the front lines. "I'm sorry," she sympathizes, pausing a brief second before deciding what the hell, "my fiance shipped out a few weeks ago."

Robin looks up, a bit surprised as he moves to stand across from her. "Mr. Styles was called out?"

She shifts uncomfortably, scratching her fingernail across the wooden counter to keep her mind off of the war as much as possible. "To France for training and then assignment. I haven't gotten a letter yet informing me of where he's heading afterwards."

One of Robin's hands move over the counter, patting the top of Daisy's comfortingly. "It's tough, but I can't think of a greater man than Harry Styles fighting."

Daisy pauses, looking up at him curiously. She's never heard anyone say anything remotely kind about Harry before. He's always whispered about, gossiped about, but they're all tells of his rudeness or his harsh words. Daisy, having been privy to both, never really questioned anyone's dislike for Harry. But she'll definitely question their compliments for him.

"You know Harry really well?"

Robin nods, moving to untie his apron. "Grew up with his father. When he passed away I tried to keep an eye on Harryand Gemma. Of course that uncle of his stepped in, tried to raise Harry to be a prick like him-" Daisy giggles, never having heard Robin curse, "but good always beats bad."

He hangs his apron up, reaching under the counter for a small basket of oatmeal cookies. He places them on the counter in front of Daisy. "Free of charge, for Harry." He says, smiling softly. Daisy watches him for a moment, thinking that Robin must be a great father. He's kind, compassionate, but also tough. And judging by the two boys she's met in here before, he knows how to raise a good son. It's then that she realizes he's the only one running the bakery now, and while rations for the war have started, bread is always in demand. He'll be getting busy, busier than usual, and he might need help.

"Mr. Robin," she murmurs carefully, waiting for him to look at her expectantly, "if you'd like company or help around the shop while you're boys are away, I'd be happy to do so. Don't have to pay me or anything, I'd just like to get out of the empty house."

Robin's smile is warm and grateful, and he looks around the kitchen as if trying to picture Daisy back there helping him. Finally, he nods. "I'd love to have you Daisy, and I'd be happy to let you take home the tips for the day."

"No that's-"

"It's the least I could do," Robin interrupts, "owe it to Harry and his father."

She knows by the firmness of his voice that there's no room for arguing, and she knows tips aren't very much right now anyway so she won't feel bad for taking money from him. Plus the holidays are coming up, and she'd really like to get gifts from everyone without having to use Harry's money. It doesn't feel right to use it without him there, but then again, nothing really feels right while he's gone anyway.

~

Dear Daisy,

My training has been completed and I've received my assignment. Luckily for us, I'm staying in France, patrolling Paris in case Germany attacks. I'm sorry I didn't write sooner, it was difficult to find time during the first couple weeks, but you should know that not a day has gone by where I haven't thought of you. I ache for you, long for you so much it makes me dizzy. Patrolling Paris is wonderful, I've been here a few times, but I can't help but find you on ever corner. In the flower shops, laying among the soft petals. In the warmth of the bakeries and restaurant, beckoning me. Swirling in the air around me, shining in the stars above me. It's not the first city I've found you in and I'm certain it won't be the last.

I know I have so much to say to you. Secrets and truths that have been on the tip of my tongue since the night we met, pleading to be told. Oh how desperate I was on our last night together, aching to tell you everything. Again, I'm sorry, for I'm making you wait. I know you hate me, enough to cry for me, enough to marry me. I was once told my parents hated each other as well, and I had never seen love like theirs.

I hope you're staying warm as the days get colder, maybe planting vegetables in your garden in the back. Pumpkins grow well against the wall of the house and my mum has a wonderful pumpkin soup recipe. I'll dream of you tonight, and maybe every night, in our kitchen with the pretty blue apron around your hips, filling our house with a warmth only you could bring. My radio playing in the background, I'll wish to be sat there with you, argue over how you under-cooked the pumpkin just because I like the color of your pink cheeks when we fight.

Stay safe for me Daisy for I need a home to come home to.

-The Harry Styles x

~

Cold winds come with fall, blowing into the bakery every time the door is even slightly cracked. Daisy's lucky enough to be on oven duty, staying warm in the back while Robin works the counter. She's been working with him for almost a month now, finally skilled enough to help decorate the Halloween cookies and package them. Robin does most of the baking, but she always helps, and every time she finds a recipe of interest he goes out of his way to teach her to make it. Daisy finds working at the bakery to be quite wonderful. It's a good way to spend her time and she's never been good at cooking despite her mother's hard efforts to teach her. Meredith isn't much of a baker either so Daisy never learned that growing up either. It's exciting, working here. Like she's got a new hidden talent or secret that only her and Robin know.

It's only a matter of time before her mother or Summer starts questioning what she's been doing during the days, and she's dreading having to answer. Some may it find it silly but if she tells them about her new hobby she's afraid it'll lose its appeal. When she's here, everything is simple. She bakes and laughs with Robin, forgetting that men are fighting a few countries over. And if she's feeling particularly lonely, she can imagine that Harry's just at work, that she'll finish her goodies for the day and take them home in a box wrapped with pretty ribbon, body flushing when her husband praises her.

Even if it makes going home even more disappointing, Daisy will enjoy her time in the bakery. She's nearly curling the ribbon on a package of croissants for the girl on the other side of the counter when Robin says he's going to take the trash out back real quick. They were starting to close up when the lady came in, a Mrs. Weathers as Robin had greeted her, and he instructed y/n to quickly wrap her order. She carries the package over, smiling politely at Mrs. Weathers and charging her.

"You're Mr. Styles' fiancee aren't you?" She asks, counting out the coins in her purse. Her green eyes look Daisy up and down (as much as possible with the counter between them) but she looks more curious than judging.

"Yes ma'am."

Mrs. Weathers hums, accepting her change from Daisy. "Never thought I'd see the day he'd find a wife." Her tone is amused, mixed with a little bit of surprise, and her eyes shine at Daisy with a newfound respect.

"Why's that?" Daisy questions. She knows Harry's not well liked. He's not really liked at all, but everyone has their person. Maybe she's not Harry's person but her family made it so she is. And it turned out to be better than expected. So maybe she actually is his person and she never knew.

"I had a bit of a crush on him myself a few years ago." Mrs. Weathers admits, looking sheepish. "Tried to talk to him on the beach once, maybe get him to take me on a date in that pretty car of his. Barely spoke to me though. Ignored my flirting, even went as far as telling me I was desperate." Daisy cringes at the word. Harry used to hint at her being desperate too, but he never outright said it to her. If he had she thinks she would've hit him.

"I'm sorry," she apologizes, feeling the need to make up for Harry's rudeness. "He's got a sharp tongue and an ego big enough to keep his mouth flapping."

Mrs. Weathers laughs, waving her hand. "Don't apologize! It hurt at the time but I'm grateful he's the way he is. I probably would've married him and that would be awful. My husband Terry is the greatest love I've ever known."

Daisy smiles at the dreamy look in Mrs. Weathers eyes, but her chest aches for Harry. He may be rough on the edges, but she knows deep down he's sweet. He has a reason for all his actions, and maybe that's why he's terrible to everyone. A sort of test, wanting to see who cares enough to stick around. Or it could just be him knowing what he wants and being careless. Either way she's proud, knowing she was the one to turn him.

"It just takes him a bit to warm up." Daisy defends, "But I'm the lucky one that stuck around, I suppose."

Mrs. Weathers chuckles, picking up the package and nestling it in the crook of her elbow. "If you say so." She hums, adjusting her scarf and then she's heading out into the chilly air. Daisy stares at the door for a moment, thinking that Harry's actually a lot kinder than Mrs. Weathers and any other person that something bad to say about him.

~

Daisy's crouched on the lowest porch step, fingers begin to burn as she lights the last of the Jack-O-lanters her and Summer had carved yesterday. Harry had been right about the pumpkins, she grew so many that they were able to save two for soup, leave three on the steps here, and take two back to Summer's house.

Tossing the match to the side, Daisy watches the candle flicker through it's smile. She can't help but notice that this particular face has the same little bunny teeth as Harry, even if it's big smile is nothing like Harry's. Her heart sinks, eyes stinging as she pathetically imagines him. Not exactly sure how long she watches the flame dance, wishing it were Harry's eyes in front of her, she practically jumps out of skin when two hands jab her shoulders. "Boo!"

She almost falls off the porch steps as she leaps to her full height, the hands of Gemma being the one thing to steady her. "You scared me." Daisy says sheepishly, holding a hand to her racing heart.

"That was the point," Gemma teases, "it's Halloween." Her eyes look over Daisy, smiling falling. "And you're not dressed up at all."

Blushing, Daisy picks at the bow around her waist. "I was gonna be a kitten but I haven't had time to draw my nose and whiskers on. What are you?"

Gemma adjust the sleeves of the button up, tugging down the too-small sweater vest and holding her arms open. Her hip pops out sassily, "I'm Harry!" Daisy examines her again, realizing she's wearing her version of the outfit they mocked Harry about when wedding shopping. "I figured you could use a little Harry today, and I'm as close as it gets right now."

Daisy's glad she hadn't done her makeup yet, because Gemma's words send her to tears.

~

Dear Harry,

I've never been to Paris but I can't help but find comfort in the city knowing you're there. I'm sure it's not exactly what you were expecting for assignment; you've always been a front line man, but I'm grateful the universe is on my side this time.

I grew pumpkins like you suggested and your mother made the best soup for us after Halloween. I wish you could have been at the house with me. A girl came dressed up as a fighter pilot and I thought of how much you'd enjoy that. Gemma came over to hand out candy and stay the night, which was nice. The house is to big without you in it, but for some reason it made me miss you more.

While your secrets make me nervous, I respect your choice to wait to spill them. At first it drove me mad and I spent days like a tornado in the house. I've found a distraction though, one I think you'll be proud of. An old friend of you father's, Robin, has been teaching me to bake. His son's shipped out as well and we've found company in each other's presence. I don't like cooking, as you very much know, but I really enjoy baking. Maybe one day that'll be our routine. You'll come back from the war, safe and sound, and I'll bake lots of desserts for us to devour while you cook our meals. And of course your radio will be on, and maybe I'll make you dance with me. I happen to be a very good dancer when you're my partner, and no matter how much I try to fight it, you'll always be my greatest partner.

Stay safe for me Harry or I'll have no husband to bake for. With all my heart, Daisy o

~

Rain pelts against her umbrella, ice cold in the November air. It far too late for her to be out here, but at least it's a nice neighborhood. Not as nice as Harry's or Thomas', but still better than the one she grew up in. She doesn't dwell on that thought too long though, because she's still trying to figure out why she came here. Shivering, the red door stares back at her tear filled eyes, daring her to step forward and knock. She wants to, she really does. Wants to go inside, sit next to the wood burning stove she'd sat by with Harry that one time he brought her here. Maybe drink some tea. Maybe wrap a blanket around her frame and cry. It felt too empty to cry in their house. Her sobs echoed and rattled, reminding her she was alone.

Still in her pajamas, she'd thrown on one of Harry's peacoats and grabbed the umbrella from the coat closet, running through two streets worth of puddles. Her soaked socks remind her of that.

Sniffling, Daisy wipes her eyes with the cuffs of the coat, finally stepping onto the welcome mat. Inhaling shakily, she knocks before she can duck out and spend all night crying in the street. Harry would be so upset with her if he found out she was even out right now. He told her not to worry, yet here she was.

It takes minute for the door to be answered, lights flicking on upstairs, and then on the staircase, and then in the living room. Daisy wills herself to calm down, bouncing anxiously as the door swings open.

"Daisy?"

Anne has wrapped her robe around her nightgown, rollers mussed in her hair, and eyes bleary but her eyes widen when she meets Daisy's red rimmed ones. "Oh dear, come in! Get out of the rain!"

She waves her in, Daisy's umbrella dripping water on the rug as she closes it and places it in the rack. Anne shuts and locks the door behind her, immediately reaching to help Daisy out of her son's coat. "I'm sorry," Daisy mumbles, shaking off the damp fabric. Helpless, she watches Anne hang it by the door, bottom lip trembling with surpressed cries.

"What's wrong sweetheart?" Anne coos gently, reaching forward to push back her wet hair. Daisy crumbles under the affection, chest aching so bad she thinks it might crack open to reveal her longing heart to the cruel world. "Are you hurt?"

She shakes her head, finally breaking down. Her body shakes against Anne, shoulders hunching as her mother-in-law wraps her arms around Daisy. Anne shushes her, rubbing her hand in soothing circles over her back. "It's okay darling. You can talk to me."

Somehow, Daisy manages to choke out the one thought swirling through her brain. "I miss him so much." It's simple, but the words make her cry even more after finally admitting it. She didn't realize how much she enjoyed being around Harry, how much better he made her days. Being without him is like missing the broth in the soup, the flour in a loaf of bread, the roots of a plant. Nothing feels right and she hates it.

"Oh darling, I know." Anne coos, stroking her soggy hair tenderly. Daisy feels small in her arms, cradled like a girl as small as Kitty even though her feet are on the ground and not around Anne's waist. She thinks back on when she wishes she were as tiny as her sister, innocent to this kind of hurt, and she can't help but think this night was born out of that wish. Maybe the universe started a war, drafted the one boy she may one day love, just because she was being sad and petty. It's stupid, Hitler's not invading previous German land because she wished to be little again. But it does feel nice to have Anne hold her, tell her she understands. All Meredith’s ever done is tell her to grow up, act her age, learn to cook, get married, have kids. Everything she always felt like she could never do.

“He’s really irritating but I want him back.” Daisy murmurs around trembling breaths, beginning to calm down. Anne laughs, whispering an agreement before pulling back enough to see her face. She strokes her cheeks tenderly, motherly.

“Let’s her you dry clothes and a cup of tea, yeah?” Daisy nods shyly, letting Anne guide her up the stairs and into a random bedroom. She digs through the dresser, pulling out a cotton tee and striped pajama bottoms. The same pajama bottoms Harry owns multiple pairs of. “These were his favorites as a boy. Don’t fit him now but I can’t get rid of them.”

Daisy changes into them in the bathroom, recognizing the scent of Harry immediate. He still smells the same today but more manly. Maybe it's that nice cologne he wears that makes him smell older, more mature. But his teen scent is comforting too. The two of them, feeling small but together. It makes her ache a bit more, but she smiles at it. Maybe Harry's thinking about her, smirking as he fall asleep and imagining her crying. Soulmates maybe, reaching out to jab at her throbbing heart. It's a very Harry thing to do, she thinks.

And she continues to think of him when she crawls into his childhood bed, an old record player playing an album he loved as a kid, with her mug of tea on his old nightstand. Buried in his sheets, it almost feels like he's there too. That's how it should be, husband and wife, buried next to each other forever.

#dear daisy #harry styles #fanfic #fanfiction #fluff #one direction #harry styles au #ww2 harry #soldier harry #arranged marriage au #1930s harry

[pannazsinihkvetak]

The Heavy Burdens of Time   fic

The golden gilt sun of early autumn hung in the clear blue sky overhead a dappled forest bright with splashes of red, yellow, and orange as leaves quaked cheerily in a light breeze.

In the light of the autumn afternoon Belarus crawled around on her gloved hands and stocking clad knees looking for mushrooms. It was one of her favorite pastimes every fall and nothing could dissuade her from it. Her light pink dress flowed behind her and her blue ribbon fluttered in the breeze as she continued to look, completely absorbed in her task.

The sight made Lithuania catch his breath and he blessed his good luck in deciding to wander Poland, and now Belarus’s woods after that meeting with him was done. Normally a silent forest walker, distraction made him careless and as he edged closer he stepped on a number of dry twigs.

She stood up, her eyes rapidly looking for the source of that noise and her hands gathering into fists as she clutched the folds of her dress. He stopped ad she spotted him.

“Tch, and what the fuck are you doing here?” she asked, more annoyed than anything else and clearly sounding so. But she was not totally displeased and this bothered her even more. She just couldn't understand it.

“Ah,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was just taking a walk. It’s a nice day after all. I didn’t expect to see you here. “

“Liar,” she said harshly. “You know this is my part of the woods, yet you wandered in, you idiot. Like a fucking pervert or stalker, I bet you’re both.” She crossed her arms and glared at him.

“Well I suppose I could leave you alone if you wish.” He was rather crestfallen though and it showed on his already melancholy face. Really he would rather stay with her.

At the sight she felt something stir within her heart, something she could not name, place, or understand, but it made her say, “Öh no you don’t you dick sucker. As punishment now you have to help me as long as I wish.” She stomped her foot upon the dirt.

‘O what a wonderful punishment’, he thought. He tried not to look too happy as he said aloud, “”I guess since this is your home I really have no choice”

”That’s right, you don’t you asswipe. Now get down and help me pick mushrooms.”

Now he was even more delighted. He loved picking mushrooms and so he nodded resolutely, “understood” and did just that.

Several hours of this passed, mostly in silence but a few times they spoke amongst themselves.. Industrious and focused they gathered many mushrooms and as they gathered up their quary Belarus lifted her head up and looked at him.

Her thoughts wandered across years and centuries and she remembered a similar scene ages ago when both were younger in the days of the duchy. Life was harsher then, but things between them, though always complex, were also so much more simple and warm.

She remembered is wolf brown hair and forest green eyes, present still but also so far away and how she puzzled at yet permitted his pagan ways and he did the same for her orthodox faith, and so they lived in tandem.

She remembered how that slowly began to change when the commonwealth was formed and Poland arrived. For a moment it felt like it was happening all over once more.

A small slight pale girl feeling her breath and fists tighten as one by one, no love from them, her nobility flocked to the more fashionable, more politically advantageous Poland, with only a few hold outs and the simple peasantry keeping her in their hearts.

Of course none of this was forced, but perhaps that made the pain even more terrible and of course that didn’t mean there was no pressure. So it was simply easier to speak Polish during the rare times she was summoned to court, to dress in Polish ways while there too, and even to become Catholic like Poland as well. It was easier to bow her head down and take what was given to her. But still these were not her ways and that was one of the things that kept her alive, the knowledge of that.

She also remembered Lithuania and as she did her heart was burdened with pain and anguish. She could almost see before her eyes how it seemed so suddenly he no longer spent as much time with her and even seemed to forget his old self, taking up Poland's ways more and more. Her companion was gone, he abandoned her, and it was then in her rage and resentment she realized how dear he was to her.

It was all Poland's fault, and yet even that was not the end of it, Poland would not let it end here, since even decades later, his fight with her brother over her and ripping her and her people in two was still fresh in her mind. Russia was at fault here too, but of course she refused to see this. Instead she chose to remember how Poland tried to take what little she even had, stealing her language and her people from her western lands, always wanting more and more, and using his own suffering to justify it. And Lithuania, had he even noticed or cared? She thought not, after all he had been so willing to discard her for politics long ago.

Her thoughts continued to swirl in her mind and in the physical world her hands began to shake.

Lithuania noticed, and with concern in his eyes he shook her gently, “”Natasha, Natasha, are you alright?”

Her eyes darted up to rest on him, and gripping his hand harshly she blurted out, “’I fucking hate you.”

Lithuania stared at her, surprised but not really hurt or dismayed. “Did you have a bad thought or memory?” He hadn’t done anything, so it couldn’t be that.

She looked at his face, full of concern and notice the lack of fear or anger in his voice and body. She had no idea what to do. She half wanted to run off yelling, but merely sat there instead and looked down at her still clenched fists. She had no idea what to say so she merely said, “Shut up.” Then she crawled on her hands and knees over to him and drew closer.

Lithuania's heart began beating rapidly and he felt himself grow hot, but he tried to remain calm, since he had no idea what she might do. Even that was a little exciting though..

Then frowning, she took his face between her hands and drew it even closer. She looked right into his eyes for moment, then let his face go and began to rub the long sides of his hair between her hands. they were so soft and silky, how nice and calming it was to feel them.

Lithuania merely smiled, for he was rather used to this and found it endearing. “Do you feel better?” he asked.

“None of your fucking business,”she said, but her voice and face were a good deal calmer and more tranquil and finally she sighted softly, her eyes growing more serene.

Notes:

Mushroom hunting is widely done in Belarus, in fact one year many posted instagrams of the many huge loads they collected. I headcanon Belarus as a nature loving girl, who isn't worried about getting dirty.

During the Duchy of Lithuania the country was pagan, only becoming Catholic after uniting with Poland. However there were many Orthodox from the acquisition of Polotsk who I headcanon Belarus as. During this time the Ruthenian culture also became influential and politically powerful, with Ruthenian being used in court and official documents.

During the Polish Lithuanian Commonweath Polish superseded Ruthenian as the language and culture of influence. Many Baltic and Ruthenian nobility willingly became Polanized due to the social and political benefits. However some Ruthenian nobles resisted this and kept their Slavic identity and Orthodox faith, as did much of the Ruthenian peasantry. Some of these peasants, especially those in modern day Ukraine turned to the Cossaks as they undertook violent resistance to Polish influence. During the Second Polish Republic from 1918 to 1939 and after the Polish Soviet war' Polonization became more coercive with authorities closing Belarusian schools (before 1921 there were 514 and in 1928 only 69. All were gone by 1939) and outlawing use of Belarusian in state institutions, and refusing to let priests hold mass in Belarusian. Some even saw Belarusian language as lesser than that of Polish denigrating it as shabby and simple. "They want to switch from the rich Polish Language to one the people themselves call simple and shabby" - 1921 Assimilation was seen by some to be key to unifying the state.

Polish official Leopold Skulski - "I assure you that in some ten years you won't be able to find a single Belarusian (in West Belarus). West Belarus was seen as a land needed for colonization.

During the republic various protests were held by Belarusian partisans against these measures, to no avail

During the Polish Soviet war Belarus was divided between Poland getting west Belarus and the USSR getting the east with no say from the Belarusians.

#lietbel #hetalia #aph belarus #aph lithuania #hws belatus

[jlf23tumble]

1D Day, Hour One

God only knows what this hellscape will look like on December 18, so if I’m gonna recap each hour of 1D Day, I might as well do it now, eh?? 1D Day is a gift that none of us really deserved, and yeah, it has a ton of shitty moments, but much like X Factor itself, the true gem is Louis Tomlinson and how much he runs this entire show (and lbr, the band itself), Jesus, god, do I love him.

Anyway, 1D Day aired 7 hours of live content on November 23, 2013 to promote Midnight Memories, and yes, yes, we’ve all seen the gifsets, but like anything else with this band, it’s tremendously better in context. I watched this whole thing a couple of years ago, when I first got into this fandom, but I didn’t know all of the dynamics then, so it’s extra fascinating to me now. We’ve all binged worse shit than this that took way longer, and I promise you won’t regret an hour a night for a week--but if you’d rather read my hot take, here you go, under the cut! Note: these are really shitty screengrabs, and for that, I am truly sorry.

A horrible announcer introduces the D by saying they weigh in at a collective 792 pounds, and all I can wonder is does this mean they have daily weigh-ins, why is it that specific? This focus on their weight is just gross to me. C’mon, writers, you’re better than this (j/k, you aren’t).

The three-foot bubble between Louis and Harry is established pretty early on, with Harry doing the prettiest sitting in all the land before bolting to his feet immediately because Louis happened to walk by his couch. A very real question: Was this bubble a requirement that Ben Winston constantly whispers into their headpieces, or did sbb decide, hey, let’s make it obvious that we have to CONSTANTLY adjust where we stand, even if it’s two feet away because that’s not enough room for Jesus?

There are some truly hilarious guest “stars” to announce, the first being the giant video head of David Beckham, which pops up and immediately starts speaking, so we're already off to the races with a) fuckups and b) Louis’s annoyance at said fuckups.

Liam takes a good hard look at his future:

Harry isn’t allowed to gaze at Becks, he’s off by the listening booth, which is a giant red call box because they’re Briddish, pip pip, cheerio. Unrelated, but I low-key feel like Harry's coked up or else really taking the piss with all his “LIVE BANDDDDDDD,” JERRY! JERRY! JERRY!,” etc., not to mention how fast he’s speaking, the way he grinds on the guitarist’s lap while Louis fonds at the sky, and all the yelling with arms aloft.

The best part of the rundown of the guest “stars” (or breast stars, if you’re Niall) is that we’re only in the first 10 minutes, so everyone’s giving it a go, but then we get to Mr. Simon Cowell, and Niall claps five times to stony silence (me as Harry constantly staring at Louis from three feet away):

Piers Morgan comes out to describe the “grilling” he’s going to give them later, all angry—genuinely angry—that they’re trending on twitter because they keep saying that he smells. And they don’t stop, even here, they keep yelling, “What’s that smell? You stink, etc.,” and he’s such a dick that I want to bottle this moment and spritz it around my house daily.

This mild trash talking continues, with Piers promising “tears from Piers,” but Slytherin Niall pulls the fingernail out of his mouth, smiles that sneaky smile, and says, “Yeah, but this isn’t Piers Morgan Day, is it, this is 1D Day,” and I want a transcript because there’s so much talking, but all of it trashes Piers, and god, I love my sons.

Anyway, they keep winding Piers up (Piers: “I’m going to find out what you’re most embarrassed about,” Liam: “The way you smell,” Piers, genuinely in a rage: “Don’t say that”), and he keeps talking about how he’s interviewed heads of state, etc., the implication being that this is below him, but Niall counters that Oprah and Barbara Walters have, too, and they would have much preferred Oprah, to the point where Piers admits they couldn’t afford Oprah (lmaooooooo). 

We move on to Harry, spinning a twitter wheel that means they’ll follow whoever it lands on, which seems like a cute idea. I’m guessing it’s the official twitter handle?? I don’t know or actually care!

Louis can’t read the teleprompter, and he mutters later that it’s because it makes no sense rather than being too hard to actually see, but me as Niall, already yawning at the 25-minute mark (the bubble is preserved, though, whew):

I’m guessing Scott Mills is the “host” of this show because he comes out with a stick (??) and an agenda (Scott’s no Dermot…he has a face for radio, as they used to say back in the day). This whole section just features a lot of Harry and his pinned sleeves staring at Louis, and honestly relatable:

The next task is toilet paper roll stacking, with two judges from the Guinness Book of World Records on hand to see if this band of hyenas can beat the current world record and stack 28 (!!!!) rolls in 30 seconds. Two reasons to love Louis: he interrupts this idiocy to ask, “How did you two get into this, is this a full-time job you do every day?” (I was wondering the exact same thing), and this is his face for this challenge:

Sadly, they fail, and Harry’s the one who has to tell the judges, “Well, sorry for wasting your time!” with a cheery wave from the ladder. Uh oh, though, the bubble, we’re at two feet:

Much better!

This is still too close for Ben Winston’s comfort, so we split up the teams in what feels like a college course with a lot of money to run fake broadcasting drills. Zouis gets to report from the field, with some tweet rapping; the weather guy, sports guy, and lead broadcaster experience some technical difficulties, prompting Harry’s infamous, “SOMETHING’S GONE WRONG,” and we’re off to Poland:

For a production company that seems hell bent on “no homo,” there are lots of things that raise my brows, like this big “handsome” (Harry’s words) he-man who’s going to pull a “boohs” full of 1D fans over a line, so the boys have to guess how long it’s going to take him…by writing all over his mostly nude body (I’m the eye contact that Harry and Louis maintain during this):

Dude pulls the boohs successfully, so yay! Next up is Wrong Direction, the world’s worst lookalikes (HONESTLY, I’m embarrassed for everyone in this segment on Hollywood Blvd: the idiots who are “fooled” by this, the guys themselves and the low-key insult of it all, myself because this went on for way too long):

I’ll spare everyone the individual matchups because yike, but the real Wrong Direction comes to the studio, with all the guys dressed up like their matches, and the real D is polite, albeit mildly “wtf are we supposed to do about this” (me, too, Zayn). Points to Harry for at least trying to strike up some conversation: “Did you have foon, acting like us?” We’re supposed to vote for the best one on Google+ (lolololololol).

Scott takes two girls who look like they’re legit about to pass out into the red call box so they can be the first people to listen to the new album. While they listen to something none of us can hear, we get some VT (that’s “videotape,” god, I hate the whole lingo lesson we got earlier) of Spain and some fans, all of which feels like lengthy filler. I feel for the people Scott mentions as being asleep during this because there is a LOT of fill. Maybe make this shit shorter, just a suggestion!

Next up is Jamie Scott from his home somewhere in the middle of the night; he wrote most of Midnight Memories along with Louis and Liam, and he gives them an 8.5 in terms of how they did on a scale of 1-10 (and that’s AFTER Louis insults his pillows with the alphabet on them, “In case you forget”). There’s a lot of Lilo hand-shaking in celebration, and some enthusiastic clapping from Harry (a little too enthusiastic…I’m gonna imagine that someone tells him to tone it down in his earpiece because he looks around quite a bit):

A few things happen that don’t really interest me: the first listen of “Through the Dark” (this is skipped in the vid), a remote report from Radio Disney (Harry: “HOLLYWOODDDDDD!”) and a fan who wins the chance to come visit them later in the day, and then we’re back to Scott, who looks exhausted, and it’s only been 40 minutes.

All is not lost, because the next VT is the totally unnecessary yet extremely vital coverage of the D’s exercise regime. I’ve seen so many gifsets of hottttt and sweaty Lirry, but you haven’t lived until you’ve heard Niall’s American accent while he stretches: “Welcome to my workout dvd! I’ll be with you for the next 45 minutes to  give you the lowdown of how I stay in shape.” PLEASE @ NIALL, DO THIS.

I really WANT to be Harry and effortlessly pump out pushups, but in reality I’m Zouis, popping some robot dance moves and drinking Red Bull. The weird shorthand throughout this is that Liam is an animal (Ziam + a whip = fire), Harry’s into flirty sexercise, Niall wants an arse like Kim K’s, Zayn’s a slender boxer, and Louis…just fucks around? Missed opp for footie Louis.

The first performance is “Story of My Life,” and we’ve all seen it before, but godDAMN, Zayn sings like an angel. Lots of technical problems in the audio, prompting quite a few Louis/Harry hand gestures, but still, in spite of it all, they sound amazing individually and together.

Even local asshole Piers Morgan is impressed, as he comes out to tell them that they were surprisingly good, along with a bunch of other neg bullshit. This is another one of those segments that it pays to watch the whole clip of, and Jesus, do I want a transcript. They head over to the couches, and Piers points at Louis and says, “You have the most reason to be nervous,” but Louis’s like, “Yeah, but I’m not,” and wow, #goals.

Everyone gets a couch, and the upshot is that Piers is a terrible egoist who thinks he’s a fantastic interviewer, but he really isn’t…all the questions are shit, and these five eat him alive. Everything he asks falls flat, and it’s so masterfully, subversively handled, from Louis’s iconic “define girlfriends” (and the underappreciated attempt by Harry to define it for Piers later: “Like in primary school, if you hold hands with a girl and you're eight, is that a girlfriend?”) to the obsession with smells (Piers asking Niall, “Why do you always smell,” claiming it’s a fan’s question, and Niall answering that it’s because he had colic as a child, so can only fart; Piers asking Zayn, “Who stinks the worst,” and Zayn saying that they all smell quite good, actually) to Piers demanding to see Zayn’s tattoo and relentlessly attacking him for it being a gun (Louis keeps interjecting that it’s a watergun, but go off I guess, paraphrasing).

But the best is always Louis. “What’s the weirdest thing a girl has done to impress you?” “Tweeted Piers Morgan.” Later, he says pointblank to Piers, “You do stink.” But then…but THEN, it’s the Four interview 1.0, only instead of Ben trying to get Louis to deny gay rumors, it’s Piers, who does it twice: “What’s the one rumor you wouldn’t want to hear about yourself?” Louis’s answer: “That I’m not good at football.” “Are you good?” “No….I just wouldn’t want it confirmed.” Piers tries AGAIN: “What’s the worst thing you’ve had to read about yourself?” but Louis turns it around and says he hates reading about one of the other boys being dead (!).

Because he’s the worst, Piers takes it to the ladies and asks how many girlfriends they’ve had and how many times they’ve kissed a girl. Harry says he’s kissed 8 ladies (which prompts a good scoff out of Zayn), and everyone else says 5 or 6, 3 or 4, etc., with Louis declaring he’s only had one proper relationship (no genders mentioned), so maybe 2 (lmaooooo). Piers gets all excited that he’s kissed more girls than this hot boyband has, and I wanna say, you’re almost there, “friend”…keep working it through.

There’s more antics w/r/t Piers, like his poor 2YO daughter crying, and him trying to blame it on Harry Styles not answering her dad’s sex questions or stupid questions about embarrassing things they’ve caught the others doing, and yeah, I don’t think they’ll get into the big ot5 gang bang on live TV, but ask anyway, I guess?

The last person to suffer sitting next to Piers is Liam, and I love him always, but especially for saying, “How’s it going there, stinky?” when Piers takes a seat to ask him why he’s so sexy. Piers tries to “joke” that the sexy question is for him, but nobody says anything, and then he asks Liam AGAIN before admitting that it’s a shitty question, so then he asks about them all wearing tight jeans, and godddddd, why does anyone let him interview anyone?? 

The good news is that Piers can tell he lost, so as he tells them that he thinks they’re pretty okay, actually, but, “You’ve gotta stop calling me stinky,” and you know they never will.

Scott says it might feel like much longer, but it’s only been an hour, and Zayn’s lookalike won, so we can all rest easy. This hour closes with a review of the highlights, and it’s ham-fisted and awful. Shocking!!!!

I can’t do one of these every single day, but I’ll do hour two sometime soon! Hope you enjoyed this, @justlarried, lol!

#recap #1d day #hour one #it really did feel like a full day

[sprnklersplashes]

Truth Of His Dreams (9/?)

AO3

Charlie sees her right away. Anyone would, of course, even from their seats on the other side of the theatre. With her sweeping purple gown and diamond studded tiara she still wears even now that her kingdom is gone, the Queen Mother isn’t one you’d skip over easily. He watches as she, along with Countess Oswald, takes her seat in the upper box, seats which probably cost more than their entire journey from Rhodia to where they are sitting right now cost them. She doesn’t notice him, of course she doesn’t, but he can’t take his eyes off her. Far away as he is, he tries to find some resemblance in her. Tries to catch a good glance of her eyes or chin, searching for some trace of himself in her. He still thinks he’s dreaming, and he’ll wake up back in the orphanage to work a shift at the factory, briefly wondering who they’ve given that job to now that he’s gone.

He can’t sit still, even though his fidgeting has already drawn dirty looks from other people who came to view the ballet. He can’t even focus on the dancers, whirling around the stage in their dazzling costumes. Despite how wonderful the theatre must be, and that it’s the first real, fully furnished working theatre he can remember seeing, he can’t appreciate it. Everything else seems so trivial and useless when his whole future could be sitting up there. He calms himself down just enough to check his watch. Eight thirty. Everything he’s ever wanted is so near now. Just an hour and a half away.

                                                                                               ******

Alia’s old heart nearly gives out when she sees him; she almost wonders if this is it, and she is simply seeing her Charles one last time before she goes. Instead, she finds herself still breathing, her heart still beating, albeit far rapidly than it has been in years. Her hand trembles as she holds her binoculars, making everything go out of focus except that one boy.

“Your Majesty?” Clara asks beside her, taking her shaking arm. “Your Majesty what is it? Are you too cold? I have your fur wrap here in case you need it.”

“No, Clara,” she says. Even if she were cold, she’d never admit to it. Never let it be said that the Queen Mother of Rhodia is susceptible to cold. “I simply thought I saw someone I might have known.” Clara looks in her direction. She’s smiling and she thinks she’s doing it discreetly. Her lady in waiting is many wonderful things, but discreet has never been one of them. She would ask what she finds so amusing, if she wasn’t finding it hard to breathe herself.

The boy pushes his blonde hair out of his eyes, a gesture so similar to Charles it pains her. He mutters something to the boy sitting next to him, she assumes it’s his lover, for their knees touch, and he takes his hand gently. She can even see a faint blush on the boy’s cheeks. Either they are lovers or he wishes they were. Despite her better judgement, she adjusts her binoculars and gets a better look.

It takes everything in her not to gasp; the chin is almost an exact replica of her daughter in law’s. From what she can see, the nose is the double of her son’s. The suit he wears, the blue, that shade, it’s exactly what she had always thought Charles looked best in. When she sees him clasping his hands between his knees and scratching at the back of his hand with his thumb, she almost wails; Charles used to do the same when he was afraid. She wishes he’d look up at her and she could finally put this silly fantasy to rest.

“Stop it,” she mutters to herself, not realising for a moment that she had spoken aloud, thankful she was quiet enough and Clara was distracted by champagne and Lady Ashildr to notice. Her head knows she should stop believing that she’ll ever find him, but she finds that the heart is not so easily persuaded.

                                                                                    ******

Quill’s fingers trace over the bulge of the gun in her pocket, a vile taste sitting in her mouth as she sits in the gods. The seats are hardly practical for watching the show as a gold rail obscures the view of the stage, but for scouting the audience, it works quite well, even if people behind her hiss at her to sit down.

She spies him just before the lights go down, sitting in a box of his own near the front. Along with his friends from Rhodia, the little group of street rats. Decked out in all their finery, they hardly look like the children they are. He certainly looks older than he is. Even the youngest one, the one who looks like her daughter, looks older than she is, dressed in a red suit.

Her stomach clenches when she sees her, tiny as she looks down there. Kat herself is hopefully asleep by now, likely star fished across the bed, maybe drooling. Hopefully having gone to the toilet before she slept. Out of sight, but never out of mind, not since she was born and now that this girl is here, she can’t even put her aside for a moment.

But when she looks at the would-be Prince, something else takes over her mind. No, he doesn’t look like a child, but he also doesn’t look like a commoner. He looks like a Prince. Like someone who takes and takes from his people and never gives them anything else. Someone who sends good, hard working people off to fight his wars for him because he could never get his dainty little hands dirty. Someone who can come strolling back into Rhodia at a moment’s notice to tear down everything that her father died for.

With a slight snarl on her face, she lets her hand drift back to the gun. Times have to change, and the world change with it. The whole world, not just the Republic of Rhodia. And as her father knew well, sentimentality has no place in revolutions.

                          ��                                                                    *****

All the way through the show, Charlie sits so rigidly it’s unnatural. After the lights go down, he barely moves except for his thumb, which continuously picks and scratches at the back of his hand until it’s red. If he doesn’t stop, he might draw blood.

“Hey,” Matteusz whispers, gently prying his hands apart and holding onto it himself. His hands are freezing, his fingers like icicles, but he doesn’t complain. He just hopes he can warm him up. He supposes it would never do to meet your long lost grandmother with hands like ice. Charlie manages a small smile, but Matteusz isn’t sure if it’s genuine or just a reflex. He just keeps his eyes trained on the Queen Mother’s box.

If he’s honest, Matteusz is having trouble keeping his own nerve. When they started planning this so long ago, in an abandoned theatre when they were loving day to day, wondering how they’d scam their next meal, he had half thought (or hoped) that this was all a game they would get tired of when they realised no one could impersonate the Prince and they’d move onto another, less frightening con.

Well, technically, no one is impersonating the Prince, because he’s right here.

He can still hardly believe it. The little boy he helped through a servant’s passageway is sitting right beside him. The boy he could never take his eyes off when he was eight was now making his heart flutter at eighteen.

He’s always been religious. He’s not sure if it’s because of his upbringing or something inside him, but he’s held onto his faith. The regime back in Rhodia would hate him if they knew, a gay practicing Catholic, and he dreads to think what might have happened to him, but he’s become good at hiding his faith and heart. His grandmother back in Poland had been the most faithful person he had known. She had given him rosary beads every birthday since he was five, read him stories from the Bible, made him pray every night. He remembers her saying to him that God had a plan for everyone, big or small.

Maybe this was his. Maybe he and Charlie were meant to find each other. Maybe God sent him to Charlie to protect him, to save him from the rebels back them and now to hand him over to his grandmother. Give him back everything he lost, home, love, family. Maybe God’s plan was always meant to end like this, with Matteusz helping Charlie find his way back.

As far as grand purposes go, it’s not so bad. He just wonders if falling for him was meant to happen too.

                                                                                               *****

The show ends sooner than they thought, but Matteusz also wouldn’t have minded if they added on an extra hour or five. As they wait outside in the hall for Countess Oswald, his breath gets shorter and shorter, his hands sweating. Just less than an hour, surely until it’s finally over. April is visibly resisting the temptation to chew on her perfectly manicured nails, Tanya presses her fist into her hand. But no matter how nervous he, or any of them, are Charlie is far worse. He stands pressed against the wall, his face as white as the wall itself, his eyes far away from here. A few kind looking women give him concerned looks, but none stop to ask if he’s all right, too busy pushing past each other to get out to their cars and back to their homes.

The Countess emerges from the crowd, wringing her white-gloved hands together. Her concern only grows when her eyes land on Charlie. He doesn’t look like he did at the hotel. Back then, he had looked radiant and confident. Born to step into the high-class world of ballet visits and soft suits. Now he looks like he’s shrunk to half his original size and is in danger of throwing up.

The Countess steps in front of him and takes his shoulders, bringing him back to reality slightly. His hand twitches to grab her arm but he stops himself at the last minute. He’s not royalty yet.

“Are you ready?” she asks him gently.

“As I’ll ever be,” he confesses, his voice shaking. He gives her a half-hearted smile.

“Follow me,” she orders. She leads them, taking Charlie by the shoulder, down the hallway and up a flight of carpeted steps, a gold railing running along the wall. They arrive in a smaller hallway, dark wooden walls instead of the white painted ones along the rest of the theatre, a matching side table with a jug of water and glasses on it and a red velvet door with “Box 2” written on a gold plaque.

“That’s her?” Charlie whispers, his voice high. “She’s in there?”

“Yes,” the Countess answers, looking concerned. “Here, let me get you some water.” She pours him a glass and he accepts it with trembling hands. “I think I must tell you to expect that she might… I don’t want to get your hopes up, young man.” He nods, handing her back the glass. He closes his eyes and takes deep breaths, the muttering of ‘one, two, three, four, five’ barely audible.

The transformation is amazing. The colour seems to rush back into his cheeks, he holds himself with more composure, his chin higher, his shoulders straight. When he turns back to the rest of them, even his eyes seem to be brighter, the same shade of blue and bright shine to them that was said to be a royal heirloom, passed down through the generations. He nods firmly, to himself more than anyone else.

Then he smiles at them, and underneath it all, he’s still the same boy he met in the theatre and stood on top of an apartment tower with.

“I survived a palace being stormed,” he jokes. “How bad could this be?”

“That’s the spirit,” Tanya says, but she’s biting her lip enough to draw blood.

“Good luck,” April adds, slipping her hand into Ram’s.

“We can celebrate in your grandma’s apartment later,” Ram says, smirking.

Charlie laughs and looks at Matteusz, his eyes wide.

“Matteusz?” he asks softly. Matteusz moves over to him, careful not to mess any part of his hair or suit.

“You can do this,” he tells him. “I know you can. It’s no one else but you.” He looks at the Countess over his shoulder. “You will introduce Prince Charles of Rhodia.”

The Countess nods at him with a smile and opens the door slightly. Charlie’s hand shoots out and grabs his. His face is utterly composed and cool, but his hand is shaking like a leaf. Like he expelled all of his fear into that one hand. Hopefully, the Queen Mother won’t ask to shake his hand.

“Your Majesty, you have a visitor,” the Countess says. She turns back to Charlie and motions for him to come in.

He doesn’t look back at them as his hand slips out of Matteusz’s and he follows Clara into the room, the door clicking shut behind them.

“Jesus Christ,” Tanya says, leaning against the wall like a ragdoll. She claps her hands over her mouth, hoping the Queen Mother didn’t hear her.

“I can’t be here,” Ram says. “This is way too much for me. I wonder if the bar’s still open.” He goes down the hall and April sighs and follows, but not before sharing a quick look with Matteusz. She’s the only one other than him who knows the truth about Charlie. She hasn’t told a soul, but she still knows.

“I need the loo,” Tanya says. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

Matteusz nods and watches her go, leaving him alone in the hallway. Apart from them, the theatre is almost completely empty, there’s probably more staff than customers in the building. In their part anyway, it’s completely quiet. Far too quiet.

He rushes to the door and presses against it, listening intently over the sound of his frantic heart, straining his ears. Nothing but silence. That could only be bad, couldn’t it? Or he should assume it’s good.

The whole plan is fool proof, really. He could recite the history of Rhodia’s royal family in his sleep. And even if he couldn’t, he is the real thing. He has an airtight cover story for getting out of the palace. The odds are entirely in their favour.

Who is he kidding, nothing is fool proof! He knocks on the wooden table quickly. He leans against the door, pressing his hands to his mouth.

At the end of the day, they’re all getting what they wanted. Himself, Ram, April and Tanya are getting rich. Charlie is getting a family. And they’re all free now, for better or worse. Tanya had said long ago that they were building a fairy-tale, but he hadn’t realised it would be in part his own fairy-tale. One with a spin.

They can’t fail.

He wonders insanely if his and Charlie’s paths will ever cross again, like they did when he was nine and Matteusz was ten. Meeting him once was a privilege, but twice seems more like fate. He had thought it was goodbye after tonight, but he also thought that eight years ago. They never know what the world will throw at them after this. Maybe this is just wishful thinking, or maybe he’ll end up staying around London and they’ll wave at each other from opposite side of the river.

He should be happy. He should be happy that he’s free and soon to be rich, happy that Charlie is where he belongs. But he isn’t, despite everything. Con man and Prince get their wish, and fairy-tale comes true. But there was one thing he didn’t count on.

With everything to win, there’s just one thing he loses. Him.

The door opens suddenly and he nearly falls to the floor. He must have been thinking for longer than he thought. Or the Queen Mother made up her mind about Charlie quickly. Charlie stumbles out slowly, his face pale, his mouth opening and closing with no sound coming out except for slight, small squeaks.

“Charlie?” he asks softly, moving towards him. His eyes are shining with unshed tears. Matteusz goes to take his shoulder, for he looks like he’s about to collapse, but Charlie flinches away from him, still looking at the floor.

“She wouldn’t even look at me,” he says flatly. “She said, ‘Tell this imposter I know his kind, Clara. He wants money and will break an old woman’s heart to get it’.”

“No.” They were too late, it seemed. He should have known, they should have known, that dozens of other people would have had the same idea they did and gotten to London before them.

But none of those people had the real Prince. Or the boy who helped him escape.

“Look, I wasn’t going to tell you this,” he begins. “But-”

“That I was a pawn in a scheme of yours?” he asks, his voice trembling. He gasps and the tears run down his face. “You made me believe I could be someone I wasn’t? That you trained me to trick an old woman so you could collect the reward money?”

Matteusz feels his world crumble around him. He thought he felt it eight years ago, when the sky was red and the streets were littered with bodies, but that doesn’t come close to this. Maybe because he couldn’t understand what was happening back then, or maybe it’s not just sadness and grief and confusion he’s feeling this time. Those are all there too, stirring around in his heart like a poisonous cocktail, but guilt is the main ingredient here. Blooming out and flooding his chest. At least if they had taken any old street rat looking for fame and fortune, they’d have only broken one heart. But he’s broken two.

“Matteusz?” Charlie asks. “Is it true? Is what she said about you true?”

“Yes.”

For a moment, Charlie doesn’t react. It seems that even the tears on his face freeze in place. He keeps his eyes on Matteusz, heartbroken and confused and betrayed. Then his face twists into a snarl and despite how upset he is, and how much smaller he is than Matteusz, he fears he’s going to attack him right there and then.

“Charlie, please,” he begs. “It’s different this time, you’re different, because you’re-”

“Stop!” he shouts. There’s so much force in his voice that Matteusz has to step back from him. “When I met you, Matteusz, I was cold and hungry and scared, but I was always honest with you! I trusted you, I gave you my diamond…” He covers his mouth for a moment, his shoulders shaking. “I told you things I never told anyone else! I thought you were-I thought we were… I was wrong.” He pushes past him quickly, squeezing his eyes shut.

“No, Charlie, please!” He grabs his hand just as he passes him, his mind racing. “Charlie, just listen-”

“I’m done listening to you!” he exclaims, ripping his hand from Matteusz’s hand. “I travelled across a continent with you. I let you convince me that I could be something, I belonged somewhere when really… I’m nothing. I’m no one.”

You’re a Prince, he thinks, you’re a survivor, you’re brave, you’re brilliant. But he’s too scared to say it.

“Thank you for reminding me of that, Matteusz,” he spits at him, and he turns and runs down the hall. Matteusz stands and watches numbly as he gets smaller and smaller, disappearing down the stairs, his footsteps fading until he’s disappeared entirely.

This was all his fault. He should have stood up to Tanya more, should have told Charlie the truth about then last night, should have done something to stop this. Or should have never agreed to this in the first place.

“Is he gone?” a voice asks, older, slower, with the poise and grace of someone raised in nobility. A Queen dignity even though she doesn’t have a Kingdom any more.

When he turns around, Countess Oswald is standing with an apologetic expression behind the Queen Mother. Despite his guilt and shame, Matteusz is mesmerised by her. Even when he worked in the palace, he never laid eyes on her. Despite her old age, she carries herself well, her head held high without a second thought, her silver hair spun back into a low bun, her black evening gown embroidered with small black diamonds, trailing up the long skirt in an elegant spiral, silver and black, heavy looking jewels around her neck and dangling from her ears. But even underneath the make-up, she looks tired, and angry. The tight grip on her black cane confirmed this.

“Your Majesty,” he greets, bowing low, remembering every etiquette his father drilled into him. He has one last chance to fix the mess he’s created.

“Who is this?” she asks.

“Charlie does not want your money,” he explains, seeing there is no time for formalities. At Charlie’s name, the Queen Mother glares daggers and his stomach clenches. It’s ironic that he’s jumped off a train while being chased by gunmen, but he’s more afraid of one old woman. “I take full responsibility for bringing him to London.”

“Then you’re the one who wished to con me out of the reward money,” she says dryly.

“I believe with all my heart he is the Crown Prince,” he insists. He takes a step closer to her, but when Countess Oswald raises her eyebrows he shuffles backwards. “Let me explain, my name is Matteusz Andrzjewski, I used to work at the palace-”

“Well,” she scoffs, an empty smile on her face. “That’s one I haven’t heard before, I must say.” She moves past him, scowling as she does so, while a nervous Countess Oswald follows. “I will not stay to listen to this any longer. Have you nothing better to do than to torture an old woman?”

Matteusz feels something inside him snap. The sight of her walking away, while her one surviving relative sits thinking he’s a nobody, flips a switch inside him. Everything else he felt is gone. Now he’s just angry. At her, the rebels who did this, Rhodia itself.

“Charlie only wants what is rightfully his!” he exclaims. “Your recognition and your loving embrace!”

As she keeps walking away from him, he feels as though he loses all control of his body. Rationality and reason abandon him, and before he can even think, he runs towards her and stamps his foot on the train of her gown, stopping her in her tracks.

When she turns back to him, her expression utterly horrified, her mouth hanging open, there’s a small spark of triumph in him. Soon drowned out by the dawning realisation of what he’s just done.

“Shit,” he mutters. He lifts his foot off her dress, but he’s come too far now. He has nothing to lose. “Try to imagine his life since his parents, friends, everyone he has ever known was murdered-”

“I do not need reminding what happened to my own family!” she snaps back. “I lost everything I loved that day.”

“So did he,” he reminds her. “Charlie survived for a reason, to heal what happened those years ago. Rhodia is a wound that will never heal!” In her face, he sees Charlie, the stony glare, the anger blazing the eyes, the set of her jaw. Like grandmother, like grandson, it seemed.

“That is no longer my concern,” she hisses. “Rhodia has damned itself for what it has done!”

“You’re tiring her!” Countess Oswald objects. He knows that, he sees the strain in her old hands, but he’s past caring. She can be tired all she wants. But he hopes she feels ashamed too.

“I hope that God will judge you harshly for what you’ve done tonight,” he tells her firmly. “History already has.”

He doesn’t bow before leaving. He knows he turns his back to her, but he can’t find it in him to care. His words hang in the air between them. Selfishly, he hopes that if Charlie never forgives him, she never forgives herself.

                                                                                               ******

Charlie’s friends-or former friends, if they ever were his friends to begin with-stand lined up against the wall of their hotel room. The room is beautiful-deep red walls with a white trim, soft red carpeting, a crystal chandelier, a dark oak wardrobe with gold handles. The door of said wardrobe is open now, Charlie pulling his clothes out of it and stuffing them into his bag. He’s leaving. He hasn’t decided if he’s leaving London but he is certainly leaving them.

“It was my life you played with,” he tells them. “Making me think I could be someone I never was. Letting me think I could have people who cared for me.” He hastily wipes the tears from his cheeks but they keep coming, stinging his eyes and blurring his vision. “Making me think I had friends.”

“Charlie,” April says softly. “Look, we are your friends-”

“No, you’re not,” he replies bitterly. “If you were my friends you never would have set me up like this. You never would have lied to me. I don’t have much experience with friends, but I know they don’t lie to each other, they don’t treat each other like chess pieces.” He looks down at the nightstand beside his bed, seeing a small teddy with impossibly soft pale brown fur and a blue bow. It’s sweet but he’s also never seen it before. “What is this?”

“I bought it for you,” Matteusz confesses. “When we were in Oxford Street, I know you were looking at them-”

“I don’t want it.” He throws the bear across the room and it hits the wall, falling pathetically to the floor. Matteusz looks like he’s on the verge of tears himself, and Charlie is both sad to see it and happy. He should be upset. They all should be.

Of course, he partially blames himself for falling for it. Falling for the promise of a new life and a family and a chance in London, falling for jokes and smiles and friendly hugs and pretty eyes. He makes a silent promise never to fall for anyone so easily again.

“I admired the way you were, Matteusz,” he admits, turning back to his packing. “Despite where you came from, you were proud. And you taught me to be the same. And the whole time you were tricking me!” He closes the suitcase, shutting his eyes tightly against the flow of tears, taking in a gulp of air. He shakes his head wildly. “I don’t care anymore. Save it for your next Prince Charles-”

He turns suddenly, ready to tell their sad apologetic faces (fake, he knows they must be fake) where exactly they can shove their excuses, but all four of them are gone, and they even took Dash with them. In their place is the Queen Mother, frowning at him in his state, leaning on her cane.

“Your Majesty,” he says quickly, bowing.

“I think history demands we play this game to the end,” she explains.

“Please, sit.”

“There’s no need.” She stalks over to him, looking him up and down. He only got a seconds long glimpse of her back at the theatre before she had him thrown out. She is barely taller than him but he feels as though she’s towering over him in her evening gown, her eyes cold and hard as ice, but the same colour as his. Despite the wrinkles in her face and the tremble of her hand, he doesn’t think she might be soft. Part of him wonders if she really needs the cane to walk or if she plans on beating him with it. “I will be brief, who are you?”

“I think I am the sole son and heir of-”

“I didn’t ask for a title!” she snaps. “It’s in any history book along the Thames, anyone can read it! I asked who you are?”

“I… I don’t know,” he confesses. “I’m no one.” He wanders over to the small sofa and sits down on it. “I’ve spent my whole life being a no one wondering if-”

“How dare you sit without my permission!” He jumps up suddenly. The Queen Mother waves her hand dismissively. “All right sit you have my permission. And in that case…” She comes to the sofa, wiping away imaginary dirt. “I will also sit.”

“What made you like this?” he asks her.

“I beg your pardon?”

“My grand mother was the loveliest, kindest woman I’d ever known,” he explains. She scoffs, but he continues, bits and pieces, fragments of memories coming back to him. “She bought me presents every time she went away, she never got cross with me, she always smelt like orange blossom when she hugged me-”

“It’s a common enough scent!”

“Not hers,” he replies. “Not yours. One of the Dukes had it made specially for you, ordered the blossom all the way from Sicily.” He grabs the edge of the sofa. “And she was never this cruel. She never snapped.”

“That was before they murdered everyone I loved,” she says. Her voice is steady, but her hand curls into a fist. “Do you understand what that’s like, to not even be there when it happens? Hearing over a letter that my son, his wife, his child, all gone and for what? The good of Rhodia?”

“Why did you come here?” he asks, desperate to change the subject. He can’t think of Rhodia as it is right now.

“Your young man said you weren’t part of his plan. He thinks you may well be my grandson. He says you’ve come to believe it yourself.”

“I believe it with all my heart,” he agrees. “But I can’t be him unless you recognise me.”

“You can’t be anyone unless you first recognise yourself,” she tells him. She studies his face and he tries to keep as still as possible. “Who was my favourite lady in waiting?”

“You didn’t have one, you kept dismissing them,” he says.

“It was a trick question, you’re clever, I’ll give you that,” she sighs. She narrows her eyes as she peers at him, her cold hand pushing his hair away from his face, tilting his chin up. “I’m trying to see the resemblance. I don’t trust my old eyes.”

“Didn’t Father tell you to get spectacles?” he asks without thinking, recalling what looked like a taller, sturdier version of himself laughing at a happier, freer-looking Alia as they reclined on soft blue chairs. Memories were like that since the other day, coming without warning, just tangible and unique enough for him to believe they were real. He’d remember sights and sounds and smells, but feelings more than anything. He turns to see her with her mouth open in shock and covers his hand with his mouth. “I’m sorry.”

Except now the memory goes on, moving forward in his mind, not just a blurry snapshot. His father warning his mother that her eyesight won’t last forever, and her replying sharply that neither will his reign. Silence settling uncomfortably into the room while he watches from the door, holding a colouring book in his hand. His mother noticing him and calling him in. Him showing the picture off to his grandmother, who pulls him onto her knee and kisses his cheek. Her hair is loose, her laugh is easy. His mother laughs too and hands him a cupcake.

“What was your mother’s full title?” she asks him, bringing him back to the present.

“I don’t know,” he confesses. “I never knew, she was just Mama to me.” All he knows is that the title was far too long to remember. As strict as his mother could be with him, she was never his Queen. Now she’s no one’s Queen. His vision blurs as hot tears prick his eyes and he forgets that she is even beside him as sobs wreck through his body.

“You all cry at some point,” she remarks without an ounce of sympathy. “Your tears will get you nowhere.”

“If you don’t want me to be him you can leave!” he snaps without thinking. “Why don’t you want me to be him?”

“Eight years,” she replies. He thought she’d be angry at him for asking, but she just seems defeated. “I have had eight years of false hope. Every morning I’d look at the young boys and then the young men coming through the door. I’d wake up believing today was the day I’d finally find my Charles again. Do you have any idea what it means to lose that? To be tricked every day like a common street rat? I was a Queen; my family was respected. People bowed as we passed. Now people play the part of my grandson for fun, to trick me out of my love.” She dabs at her eyes with a delicate handkerchief. “I know they want my money and I can’t make myself care anymore. But they will take my love and I will never let anyone fool me into giving that away.” She buries her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking. “I want this fearful journey to be over. One way or another!”

“Do you remember the last time you saw Charles?” Charlie asks.

“I didn’t know it would be the last time,” she replies. “We never know which goodbye is the last. How can we? When I left, I thought-”

“You’d see him again,” he finishes. “See me again. You promised.” He gets up from the sofa and runs over to the dresser. The jewellery box is still there. Together In London written on the side. Just like she promised. “You gave me a music box. So that when you were away I could listen to our song.” He winds up the box as he comes over to her. She eyes the box as though it’s a wild animal. Eleven, twelve, thirteen. He lifts the lid, revealing the boy and woman dancing inside. Long ago, on a street in Rhodia, standing with Matteusz he had opened the box and heard the melody before, but there were no words to put to it. Now he can. “On the wind, cross the sea, hear this song and remember….”

“Soon you’ll be home with me,” Alia sings gently, her voice shaking.

“Once upon a December,” he finishes. He looks up at Alia. Tears run down her wrinkled face, her mouth opening and closing, unsure if she is happy or sad. “I said I wouldn’t stop missing you. You said you’d take me to London with you.”

“I wish I’d taken you with me when I left,” she confesses. “We could have avoided all this heartache. You could have stayed safe here.” Her hand reaches out to him but recoils away again. “What took you so long?”

“I’m here now, Nana,” he pleads, taking her hand. “I forgot everything. I forgot myself and you and Mama and Father, but I remember it all now. Please, I’m here with you now, doesn’t that count?”

“You’re too late,” she protests, shaking her head. “You’re too late. I promised myself no more.”

“It’s never too late to come home, Nana,” he tells her. She caresses his cheek, gently, oh so gently. Touching his cheekbone with the tip of her finger, testing if he’s real. “Please, please don’t leave me alone. Please don’t shut me out, please.”

“Oh… Charles.” She takes his face with both hands and kisses his forehead. “Oh my beautiful Charles.” He’s pulled against her chest and she wraps his arms tightly around him, running her hands up and down his back. He does the same, burying his face in her shoulder, clinging to her like she might disappear on him again. He allows himself to cry, wetting the shoulder of her gown with his tears, but they’re happy tears this time, as he relaxes into her. “My little Prince.” He breathes in the familiar scent on her clothes and skin. Orange blossom, just like she used to be. If this is a dream, he hopes he never has to wake up. But she kisses his cheek and he knows it isn’t. This is real. He’s home. He’s not alone and he never will be again. He’s really, truly home.

#class ff #marlie ff #matteusz andrzejewski #charlie smith #marlie #class bbc #fic: truth of his dreams

[tvwriteups]

Notes as they happened.  I might do more general commentary later. (Might also not.)

France, Italy, and Spain in the last group. Hmm.

I watched the SFs on my laptop. I’m watching the grand final on a large screen TV with surround sound.

Malta

Well, getting the party started. I don’t think she’s a particularly strong singer.

Albania

A much, much, much better performance here than in the SF.

My only criticism is her walk to the front of the stage - needed more direction for that. It kind of felt like she did that too casually.

Czech Republic

This song just bores me.

I give them credit for vibrant colors.

But I take that away because I hate camera tricks. I’m more annoyed the second time around.

Germany

I’m expecting this to suck.

Not sure “I’m tired” are the best words to start with.

I don’t like the start but...it kind of gets better. The bridge of the song is awkward.

Ugh, the “sister” part is awful. The music builds to try to make this song more dramatic but...

I mean, not Lithuania-bad but almost. I haven’t heard four of the songs but I’m already predicting this for last.

Russia

I really don’t like this song at all. It tries too hard.

It doesn’t help that all I’m thinking of is when Sergey competed last time.

I wonder how many people watching this right now are thinking the same thing.

Denmark

Is it makeup or is she not getting enough sleep? Not as fun as the first time.

San Marino

Says a lot about this year that this is a middle-of-the-pack song.

I actually love that these guys love being here. They’re having fun.

North Macedonia

I’m just not a fan of this song. It gets repetitive very quickly. (I can’t believe that’s a criticism I’m lobbing at it after watching the “na na na” song.)

She does better with the belting than the lower register stuff.

Sweden

He started really well. I was loving his voice. But...

I don’t know. I like parts of the song but not altogether? It just kind of gets too busy for me at the end.

Slovenia

I really like the chorus of the song. It’s weird that it holds my attention for how little is happening on the stage.

Cyprus

Either they’re better in the final or this just plays different on a big screen.

You know, I think it’s that I don’t like it being played sexy. I think it would’ve worked better for me if it was played for “fun.”

The Netherlands

I hate the staging so much. Would’ve worked better with him standing at a microphone. Does he not have stage presence? Is that why he has to hide behind a piano that they don’t even show him mime-playing?

Light ball of randomness. Not really a fan of sad songs winning...if this wins.

Greece

This song feels like someone Frankensteined pieces of three different songs together. This song is weird, the presentation weirder but it’s holding my attention.

I’m laughing.

Those ribbons. Those strong, indifferent ribbons.

Israel

Don’t care for the video screen presentation.

Don’t care for the song.

Is the crowd singing along?

Bored.

That ending is just weird to me.

Norway

Ha ha!

Seriously, no way this guy is straight.

This is the most Eurovision song of the year. The beat carries the song and the singers just go for it. It’s admirable. I love them!

UK

Even your postcard is lame.

Not sure that light is even synced right.

I don’t like his voice on the verses.

Swedish guy took the better song for himself. So repetitive.

One of the backing singers has more charisma.

This is as bad as the Belgian entry.

Gosh, North Macedonia chick’s eyes look weary.

Serhat is a dentist?!

Iceland

I don’t understand how something can be this weird and not hold my attention.

Estonia

I hate the chorus.

Oops, camerawork.

So many leather jackets this year.

I hate the visual effects.

Belarus

They really brought the dancers.

I spent this second watch more or less watching the dancers. More enjoyable that way.

Azerbaijan

Crowd likes this for some reason.

Hate the lyrics.

This vocalizing part is ... ugh, effects.

France

This was a lot better than I was expecting. Good performance. (Granted, I had low expectations.)

Italy

You sure got the crappiest location for your dance.  Yeah, shipping container port.

I can’t really follow the song. It’s not bad. It’s just very different.

Sincere.

Kind of reminds me of that time Hungary sent that domestic violence song.

Not sure it’s a one-listen song.

Serbia

I forgot this song had made it through.

She can’t go near an MRI machine.

Switzerland

Crowd just roared for this one.

Oh, this is also a very Eurovision song.

There’s nothing about their dancing that’s remotely dirty.

I don’t really think he’s all that compelling dancing in isolation. He needs those backing dancers to make him look good

Australia

Time for this weirdness.

Can’t wait to see the discrepancy between jury votes and televoting.

I still hate this. The only part of this song I like is the bridge.

Maybe I’d be more impressed if I didn’t know someone who sings opera.

Spain

I love that Spain is trying.

This is a good performance.

This song is too fast though.

Former Eurovision Contestants

Conchita Wurst performing “Heroes”

I adore Mans but I think I prefer Conchita singing his song.

Mans performing Fuego; not a fan of this rendition

Eleni gets “Dancing Lasha Tumbai” (or whatever the hell it is)

There’s more dirty dancing here than the Swiss song.

Verka gets “Toy”

The gold and silver lame!

Those backing dancers in those outfits really make this act for me.

I think this was a good way of getting these songs back in while not feeling too familiar and repetitive.

Hallelujah!

This year:

No really good song.

No outstanding voice.

No ridiculously charismatic performer.

Madonna Interview:

Awkward interview with Madonna.

Madonna totally comes off like a mom.

I mean that mom when you’re a pre-teen and you’re trying to distance yourself.

The Idan Raichel Project

Just not my kind of music

Eh.

Cuervo interview

Guy don’t know what ESC is

They need to cut this interview before he backs himself into a corner

The mentalist again

This has to be rehearsed. Seriously.

Netta

Not into this.

Now I understand bringing in Madonna

Norway made me smile the most. I’d vote for Norway.

I think the crowd really loved Switzerland.

Madonna’s Performance:

I’m so used to Madonna lip-syncing so this is weird for me.

I’m underwhelmed by Madonna.  First time I’ve ever written that in my life.

This is why she lip-syncs. But, like, why the eye-patch? That can’t be good for the depth perception.

And now they’re closing voting.

I don’t think pre-recorded Gal Gadot should qualify as having Gal Gadot on your show.

Does Gal Godot need lighting this soft?

Jan Ola Sand

I wonder if Russia hacked the televoting.

Juries

Portugal gives 12 points to the Netherlands

Azerbaijan -> Russia

Malta goes for Italy

North Macedonia -> Italy (this one surprised me)

San Marino -> Italy

Nederlands -> Sweden

Montenegro -> Serbia (duh)

Estonia ->r Sweden

Poland -> Australia 

Norway (Alex Rybak) -> Czech Republic? Really?

Spain -> Sweden

Austria -> North Macedonia

UK -> North Macedonia

Italy -> Denmark

Albania -> North Macedonia

Hungary -> Czech Republic

Moldova -> North Macedonia

Ireland -> Sweden

Belarus -> Israel

Armenia (Aram! He has way more Personality here than when he performed.) -> Sweden

Romania -> Australia

Cyprus -> Greece and cue the groaning

Green room

Back to juries:

Australia (Not the old Asian lady) -> Sweden (Another reason why I want Australia kicked out)

Russia -> Azerbaijan (duh)

Germany -> Italy. Oh good.

Can’t wait to see how many public votes Iceland gets.

Belgium -> Italy

Sweden (Eric Saade) -> Netherlands

Croatia -> Italy

Lithuania -> the Netherlands

Serbia -> North Macedonia

Iceland -> Sweden

Georgia -> Czech Republic

Greece -> Cyprus. Boos. LOL

Latvia -> the Netherlands

Czech Republic -> Sweden

Denmark (Rasmussen) -> Sweden

France -> The Netherlands

Finland -> Sweden

Switzerland -> North Macedonia

Slovenia -> Czech Republic

Israel -> the Netherlands

How do juries work? Is there lobbying that goes on behind the scenes? Are people just happy that FYROM got a real name now? Is the singer just a really nice and lovely person who built up a lot of goodwill the first time she competed? Was the jury presentation THAT MUCH BETTER than either performance I saw?

Now time for public vote where we see Norway cleanup LOL

I actually want Sweden to win because Petra.

This show feels so long.

Sweden green room.  More Jan Ola Sand

Reverse order points:

Oh, this is different reveal order. Usually they did least to most.

Ouch UK.  Ouch!

Predicted that with Germany! I’d rather be UK in last with getting at least 3 public votes than finishing where Germany did with ZERO from the public.

Norway gets 291 points!!!  In the lead!!!

Iceland with 186 points!

France gets 38 points.

Russia got 244 points and the lead.

Switzerland got 212 points

Czech Republic got 7 points ...... totally opposite the jury. muahahaha

Australia 131 points

Azerbaijan gets 100

Italy gets 253 and the lead

Netherlands 261 points and the lead.

North Macedonia 58 points. Not surprising.

Sweden 93

#tvw watches the esc

[gilbertgeilschmidt]

LietBel week - prompt amber day 2

I used the prompt to examine and explore their relationship though the years

They grow beside one another like two trees entangled together, both different and alike and despite all suffering endured and enduring they’ve remained in each other’s histories like the amber tears of the sea-goddess remaining in the baltic sea.

The Duchy of Lithuania

Sometime during the year 1243, soon after he took over Polotsk and while she was still resentful and angry, the Duchy of Lithuania took Polotsk aside and suggested going on an outing with him. Polotsk crossed her small thin arms and stared at him, then turned away silently. He repeated his invitation and said, “We could even go all the way to the sea.”

Polotsk only muttered, “Go away you bastard, I don’t want to.” In her view he had taken her independence and helped end her time of freedom and glory. However that was only partly true, and the glorious 11th century of her past was long gone even before him. Still, in her anger and hurt she refused to see that and was only looking for someone to blame.

She bit her lip and clenched her fists, continuing to look away from him as the Duchy looked sadly at her, crestfallen. He did not think he had been so harsh, and in his view he was only helping her. Besides, she had ruled over him before so it was only fair now. However Polotsk was a proud creature and did not suffer such things lightly.

“Are you going to stand there forever?” he asked.

“Maybe,” she muttered again.

There was more silence, broken only by lonely birds crying in the distance and as they did he sadly looked at the stones of amber he had wanted to give her, found a few hours ago on the shores of the Baltic sea.

-

Time mellowed many wounds and Polotsk found she had more power ad freedom than she thought she would have after becoming part of the Duchy. It was not the same as being independent, nor was it the  same as the days of her beloved Vseslav, but she enjoyed the amount of influence she had in the court. She also enjoyed that Ruthenian was spoken and written by so many, even the Duchy himself. She found too that while he was sometimes annoying, he could also be very kind and so her feelings osculated from resentment and anger to tender feelings of affection she did not quite understand.

One day years later they were both sitting along the shores of the Baltic watching the waves lap in and out of the shoreline. All was silent as the gentle breeze blew her flaxen hair and his wood-brown locks, ruffling them slightly. White clouds moved lazily across the sky and birds flew before them. Only the sound of the waves broke the stillness of the moment as they both took in one another’s company, the Duchy and Polotsk.

“I don’t know how the hell you managed to make me come out here with you,” she grumbled, but there was no malice in her words.

Lithuania merely smiled at her and said, “But it’s good that you did.” There was more silence, then he carefully and gently placed some stones of amber in her small hands. She looked at them for a moment and then  held them up to the sun, making them like flame solidified.

“They’re pretty like you. I  found them on the shore washed up by the sea, they say that they’re tears of Jūratė weeping for her lost love. I wanted to give them to you a long time ago.” She said nothing but contained to look at the amber,  then gathered the stones up in her apron and began humming. Lithuania smiled once more, content. For a moment in time, she too was happy.

The Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth, early 1700′s

She never came to the Baltic these days, but merely stayed inland. It had been a long time since she had seen those small stones of amber. Now they were shoved in a box stored under her bed. Instead she was sitting in flat fields of rye in the east staring at the sky as white storks flew overhead. Suddenly she heard a step and she turned her head rapidly to look for the source. It was Lithuania and a wan smile was on his pale but youthful face.

She scoffed and said, “What the  fuck are you doing here? Lonely since that bastard Poland is away?”

His smile faded and he said, “Yes, I mean no. I mean…what I mean is…I simply wondered where you were.” He shrugged his shoulders, looking slightly deflated, but went over to her side. She did not move.

“When he comes back, you’ll forget me again. Not that I give a shit,  I might be a peasant but I’d rather be a peasant any day than spend on more minute in that stupid Polish speaking court. I’m fine on my own.”

“I-” he did not know what to say though, and his words halted. The silence was present again, he hated it, she expected it. “I-I wanted to give this to you. It’s mine but I thought it might suit you better,” and as he spoke he held out a necklace made of amber.

She stared at it, then at him, then back at the necklace again. “Keep your shitty necklace. You’re fucking wrong, it doesn’t and never will suit anyone like me. Nothing will change and I don’t matter, you helped him take so much from me. That stupid necklace is a worthless replacement.” With that she walked off into the distance, anger and rage stirring in her heart.  Lithuania meanwhile was left crestfallen, with the necklace dangling by his side.

The Russian Empire, early 1800′s.

Things did change however and Poland was no longer in their lives after a time. Instead it was just the two of them, and Russia of course. This was something Lithuania resented far more than she  did. Her feelings on the matter were much more ambiguous and muted. It was something he did not understand and it angered him. On the other hand she didn’t care if he understood or not, it was her own affair. Not his.  

Russia made sure they saw little of each other as well and while she accepted this  he did not, and made pains to see her secretly when he could, though he could never quite tell if she would tell on him or not. To her credit she never did. One such excursion however gave him a surprise that was both unpleasant and pleasant.

She was a simple rustic girl who often dressed in the dress of peasants and kept the countryside around her and her people, but that day he found her adorned with a beautiful dress of deep blue, one of the same fashionable European kinds the Moscow or St Petersburg court ladies wore. She was lovely and his heart beat furiously, but he still did not understand why she was dressed like this.

He knocked on her window and whispered, “What are you wearing?” She gave him a venomous glare but he went on talking, “I mean you look lovely…it’s just so unexpected.”

She scoffed, but did not tell him to leave, she did not know why. “Vanya has told me to go to one of his balls…in Piter, so I shall. He’ll be here any minute you bastard, leave if you know what’s good for you.”

“But-”’

She wasn’t listening, instead she was going though her belongings in a frenzied hurry and growing in frustration at each moment. “Fuck, I can’t find any jewelry. shit!”

Lithuania managed to hear her and at that moment thanked his foresight, for he had brought the necklace once more just to see if time had softened her as it had before. “I still have this, I’ll let you wear it.” he said, holding up the amber necklace. By now he was in her room, sitting on the window ledge.

“Get out! Vanya will-” and at that moment there was a heavy knock on her door.

“Natasha, are you decent?” It was Russia.

She quickly glanced at it, then at Lithuania and the necklace, and snatching it from him she said, “In a moment Vanya.” She turned again to tell Lithuania to leave but he had already gone as if he were one of the spirits of the forests themselves. She looked sadly out the window for a moment, but then carefully put the necklace on and said, “I’m ready now.”

In St Petersburg at the Winter Palace she wandered it’s gilded halls and came across the amber room, which an annoying man had given her brother almost a century ago, and she thought of her own annoying man. Amber was in his blood and whenever she saw it she thought of him and his wild wolf heart. Her own heart felt a pang of pain, but she said and showed nothing. she simply felt it in silence.

The Lithuanian-Byelorussian Soviet Socialist Republic or Litbel,  1919

Their wedding was not Catholic, it was not Orthodox. It was a state wedding,for religion was not allowed in this new world order, but both  believed anyways keeping God secret in their hearts. In that moment despite all the pain and suffering they were going experiencing Lithuania thanked him as he slipped an amber ring on Belarus’s long and bony finger.

Meanwhile she asked God why, despite knowing there might be no response. He had suffered and so did she now, he had asked his own Father to be spared and he was not. Why should she expect better?

She was angry, she did not want to be married to him, she did not want herself consumed once more after she had suffered so much to be her own state. There was little she could do however, even Russia had allowed it to be and he had never been fond of Lithuania’s advances towards her.

Late at night as she lay beside him in the dark she looked at the ring on her finger, stroking it and feeling the smooth golden stone. She liked it, it felt nice and calming to touch, and so she did it again and again. As she did so she thought how nothing she liked or wanted really mattered and it had never mattered, not now, not ever. She was always at the whims of someone else, always thrown about, subject to their desires ad there was nothing she could do about it. All she had to do was to survive the best  way she knew how. Yet even now as she looked at the amber she still did not hate Lithuania. Instead inside her heart was this mix of bitter resentment and tender affection. She hated it. It would have been far  far easier if she had hated him.

The Lithuanian Soviet Socialist Republic and the Byelorussian Soviet Socialist Republic  1953

After coming back from Siberia Lithuania soon met Belarus in the woods in his own homeland. “What are you doing here?”

“None of your damn business, you shit,” she snarled, her pale thin face glaring at him with eyes ringed with dark circles. He didn’t look much better himself for that matter, but he couldn’t help his concern.

She didn’t say it, not even to herself, but she had been concerned as well, and was happy to see him back. However the years had been filled with horrors, forgetting, and repression. She no longer knew her own self, or her own heart anymore, and could not really say why she was here. It bothered her.

“I just wondered….it’s nice to see you again Natasha.” She did not rebuke him for using her diminutive but said nothing in return.

He smiled sadly and then she whispered, “He’s dead now.”

He could not tell if she was happy or horrified or both at Stalin’s death but he did not dare find out. She couldn’t tell herself either. Then he noticed her bandaged hands and for the first time, he didn’t know why he hadn’t noticed before, he noticed she no longer wore her amber wedding ring. They had only been married a few months years ago, but still his heart felt sorrow and his stomach felt sick. He did not know she had not thrown it away though. It was hidden, lying in the forest, protected by the trees that belonged to them.

The Republic of Belarus and the Republic of Lithuania 1991

Everything had been moving so quickly, however despite that he was still surprised when he saw Belarus lugging a suitcase behind her, clearly heading towards the nearest airport.

“Natasha!” he called out and went up to her. “I’ve been so busy lately I haven’t had time to see you. So much has been happening, it’s wonderful,” he said as a smile graced his usually melancholy face.

She did not smile however, her mood was unreadable. She simply said, “You’re right, so much shit is changing it’s hard to keep one’s head and now…now I’m on my own, for the first time I can truly say I’m on my own.”

Lithuania  noticed that she looked almost lost, unsure, and even a little frightened, but he still said, “I know, isn’t it wonderful? We can both  finally-”

“I’m leaving,” she said.

There was a silence between them both after she spoke as they started into one another’s eyes. Lithuania was the first to break it saying, “What? Where? Why?”

“America, where everyone  goes to start fresh. It’s better this way, I’m no good to him and he’s no good to me. I see that now.” Despite her words and her impassive face there was a pain in her heart however, she did not want those facts to be so, yet they were and there was nothing she could do about it.

There was another heavy silence and Lithuania ended it once more. He took her scarred hands and she did not refuse him, nor did she try to break his fingers this time. “I’m so happy for you Natasha. We’ll both work hard to make things better, yes? This can be a new start for us both.” There was also a forbidden hope in his heart, that perhaps he had another chance with her, but that was for later. They needed to focus on themselves now. “When you come back please see me. I’ll be right here waiting.”

She did not refuse or assent but merely said a noncommittal, “Hm.”

“Oh! I want to give you this too. I wanted to give it to you the day the union ended but I thought it’d be better to wait so I just held onto it.” He slipped a bracelet made of amber into her thin pallid hand and she took it, placing it on her wrist. His heart felt joy at that and there was a certain kind of pride at seeing her wear it.

Then she merely said, “I must go now,” and left, vanishing from his sight as if she had never existed at all.

1995 Lukashenko becomes president of Belarus

The next time he saw her again was four years later and again much had changed. In appearance she was the same, still freshly 19. However she was not wearing the amber bracelet, nor the necklace, still lying in her home, nor the ring, still buried in the forest. She was also not really dressed as a westerner, still favoring her long and frilly skirts, but Lithuania thought she looked beautiful that way.

“Natasha!” he called out, smiling at her. She quickly turned her head to look at him, but then kept walking. Lithuania frowned and then went up to her. “I didn’t know you were back.”

She scoffed, “Tch, I know.”

He continued to walk beside her. “How was America? You were there for about five years after all. I’ve missed you.” She stared again and merely mumbled, “A shitty sham, I was sorely disappointed. Then again I’m not even sure what the fuck I was expecting.”

He paused. surprised at her words. “Oh. I’m sorry.” There was more silence and then he said, “Are you going back home?”

She nodded and said, “To see my new boss, Alexander Lukashenko and there I shall remain, where I belong. After that I shall see my dear Vanya, I have been so needlessly cruel to him.” Little did Lithuania know that old feelings were re-awkeneing in Belarus yet again.

Her words filled him with a nauseous feeling in the pit of his stomach which began to hurt and he angrily said, “Didn’t you say you were better off without him? Didn’t you learn? What happened to you?”

At that Belarus turned around sharply and glared at him “Exactly you bastard. You have no real idea of who I am and what the fuck I think so quit assuming shit for me! What the fuck is there to learn?! Only that the west is filled with lies and can only disappoint, only that it’s all untrue. How the fuck can I be better off without him?! He’s my fellow Slav, my heart burns, he’s right next to me! So just shut the fuck up and leave me be!” She quickly walked away after that, leaving him stunned and finally noticing she no longer wore the amber bracelet he gave her.

modern day

Things between them were still strange and uneasy for various reasons, however perhaps it had been that way for one reason or another for a very long long time.

Lithuania hated her love for Russia and how she seemingly obeyed her boss. She hated his seeming need to ‘save’ her as well as his criticism of her. She also hated the strange feelings she had in her heart for him, feelings she had never truly examined. It was why she had never thrown out the wedding ring but buried it in a forest between their borders, it was why she had stowed away the bracelet and necklace, never returning them as she would have if she wholly hated him. It was why, after all these centuries and all these years she still, in a worn out bag grown old with time, kept the little stones of amber he had given her long ago when they were both children by the Baltic sea.

Even now from time to time she took it out and looked at them, playing with the stones in her hands and looking at the sun light them up, making solid fire once more as she sat there mingling memory with forgetfulness.

#historical hetalia collective #lietbela #posting here too

[tkmedia]

Will England have failed if they lose to Denmark?

It’s England v Denmark time. And the mailbox is here to ask whether defeat would be seen as failure. Send your mails to [email protected] Forza Italia Itza coming Rome! Calvino …Cometh the hour, cometh the Mancini. Chris Hardy (sorry, not sorry) …What a game. Was watching thinking England are going to struggle against either of these if we make it to the final. I expect Italy to win now to be honest. So looking forward to thisevening. I really hope we make it to the final. Also to the guy who was talking about co-commentators… I much prefer Jenas to Murphy. I really can’t stand listening to him. James EFC …Credit to Italy for making it to the final. They gave up so much of the ball in the first half but barely gave up chances on goal. I think it was always their intention to let Spain have the hall and I think they had the confidence that they could contain whatever came their way. In some respects they possibly should’ve done better because Spain should be knackered having already played 120 minutes twice in the past week. I actually thought Italy would look much worse without Spinazola and Emerson definitely took away some of their flexibility in terms of what positions he took up when Italy were on the ball but they were still threatening. Chiesa and Barella are stand out players. Unai Simon clearly hadn’t done his homework for the shoot out because he fell for Jorginho’s hop thing. I’ve literally never seen a keeper fall for that and the only explanation is that he didn’t know it was coming. Italy are probably the worst opponent for England to face in the final, should England qualify. Tactically so astute, some wise old heads and some really attacking quality. Minty, LFC Scouting report Just on my way back from the match; we can take ‘em! Come on England! Andrew, Banbury If we lose to Denmark… If we lose to Denmark tonight, would it be seen as a failure? When we went out of the World Cup to Croatia in the semi-finals of the World Cup three years ago we missed a great chance to get to our first final since 1966 but it wasn’t viewed as a failure because we had gotten further in the tournament than we were expected to and done better than fans and pundits thought we would. But this time with ‘home advantage’ at Wembley and playing a team we are apparently fancied to beat if we were to lose in a semi-final would it be seen as a failure? Dan Factor, London Fanmail for Andy Andy starts his dismal grunt of an email by claiming he doesn’t want to piss on anyone’s chips. Andy, why lie? The only thing you set out to do was exactly that, I’m not sure why you want to pretend otherwise. However if you genuinely do not want to soak the collective tatties may I suggest you f**k off with your rubbish opinions and keep them to your grim self? Thanks. Jesus, I thought I was a miserable c**t. Well, I know I am. I just didn’t realise that I’m also a ray of sunshine piercing through the grey world of Andy. thayden Fanmail for Paul I read your e-mail regarding the Euros and England. Its true you must be Irish because that e-mail was dripping the colour green. I was going to write some classy comeback but then I thought, why bother. Instead… GO F*** YOURSELF!!! Paul Norris …Paul (Dublin) in the afternoon mailbox is just one of many who has made the claim that England have had the easiest run to the semi-finals. Is this really true? For starters Spain had an easier group – Sweden, Slovakia and Poland is a much easier set of opponents than England had in their group and then had Croatia and Switzerland to dispatch on their way to the semi-finals. Am I going crazy or is that a much easier route to the semi-final? Denmark had a group with one titan but also had Finland and Russia and then faced Wales and Czech Republic in the knockout stages- is that really a tougher set of fixtures than England have had? Italy did have a tough quarter-final but had an easier set of opponents in the group stages and had Austria in the round of 16 while England was facing Germany. Hmm, I wonder which team had a tougher assignment. What am I missing here? Turiyo Damascene (PS: I hate the use of the word ‘easy’ in this context but it’s the only way I can properly engage with the people making this argument), Kigali, Rwanda Easy draw? Really? Mailers are consistently using the ‘easiest draw ever’ argument to quash any shred of optimism around the England team’s route to the semi-finals – but I have to wonder the point of this criticism. In sports like football, once you’ve actually won something people – specifically fans – rarely seem to linger much on how you’ve done it. In this spirit – are any tournament wins generally rated above others due to the quality of opposition faced? In Euro 2016, Portugal surely had an unbelievably easy run until meeting France in the final – with group stage draws against Hungary, Austria and Iceland, then knockout games against Croatia, Poland and Wales. All teams that, on paper, they should have beaten easily – and only scraped by in the majority. Not sure if they care. The ‘easiest draw ever’ argument is proactively critical of England in case they do win the Euros. It seems based on the expectation that people will assume that a team that wins a tournament is the best team at that tournament. This is of course not always the case. From my perspective football is as much a celebration of luck as it is of prowess – about narrative and emotion rather than a process to find out the objectively best team in the tournament. CR7 would probably punch me in the head for saying this but maybe winning isn’t necessarily about being the best. Portugal could barely beat a team in Euro 2016 and would unlikely be considered a particularly good side from that era. Wigan wasn’t the best team in England because of their FA Cup win – playing Bournemouth/Macclesfield/Huddersfield/Everton and Millwall on the way to the final. These wins are more about things going right at the right moments – quality and fortune in the right measure. Celebration of victory isn’t necessarily celebration of dominance/prowess – it’s just about being happy to be there at the end with a nice shiny bit of metal to take home with you. Basically, if England lose to Denmark these criticisms don’t matter – because they lost anyway – if they win the tournament then who cares – because they’ve won. I don’t know if I’d prefer England to win by steamrollering the seven top-ranked teams in the tournament 5-0 each (I definitely would) – but there’s something about that which seems a bit joyless.

I don’t consume a massive array of media but the sense I get is that not much of the optimism around England’s performance in this tournament is based on them being objectively the best team in Europe. Hoping you can win a tournament and liking a team isn’t necessarily the same as thinking you’re better than everyone else. I get how pretty harmless things like the emotion around winning a football match can be used/exploited by more nefarious forces – and would cringe at the prospect of a gloating British establishment on the off chance that England does go all the way. But it seems pretty innocuous at this point. (Anon) Just chill out F365 weirdos Wow some of the recent mailboxes have been strange. From being torn about wanting England to win in case Boris does something annoying, to the group of people complaining about English arrogance, it’s all very weird. Aside from the fact that people are just having a laugh as our team is performing vaguely well for once, have these people considered that the fans chanting might not actually think it’s necessarily coming home, but they actually just enjoy singing the song? Nobody was complaining at fans claiming Will Grigg was on fire and I’m pretty sure about 20 different clubs sing ‘we’re by far the greatest team the world has ever seen’. Just chill out and enjoy the scintillating show of attacking football England are providing us all… Louis (I thought football was meant to be fun?) A message from Germany My name is Nik and I am writing to you all to say, just enjoy it. The negativity, as well as the positivity have both been brought to the fore, but it is now time to just enjoy yourselves. A semi-final of a European Championship or a World Cup does not come around too often. Take it from a German who before 2018 and 2021 thought a semi-final was more of a formality, it is not. I am already looking forward to our next (whenever that may be). Southgate, the Players, the media, everyone just needs to enjoy this game. Win or lose. No one is to blame for failure. Everyone to laude for success. Enjoy it. Us Germans have not been able to enjoy one for five years. Nik (Hansi Flick is going to win in Qatar though isn’t he? won everything else…), Munich Spotting the w**kers You know that action film you really like, that one someone told you was crap and not as good as the 1970s black and white French masterpiece they liked? You know that album you said you like but someone insisted you were an idiot because it wasn’t as good as their first one when only they liked them? You know when you thought that someone was a wanker? They are the same people who are trying to argue that England aren’t any good and cant be enjoyed because they aren’t 1970s Brazil. And you were right, they were a wanker then and they still are now and you can enjoy this England, this manager and this team as you please. Sykes Read the full article

[eternal-night-owl]

Reunion

Fandom: Hetalia

Pairings: Slight LietPol

Genre: Drama/Angst

Rating: T

Word Count: 1812

Summary: Years after gaining his independence, Lithuania receives a strange phone call from Russia asking to meet with him. Hesitantly, he agrees.

Read on: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12735112/1/Reunion

Comments: So, here’s the fic about Russia and Lithuania I mentioned a few days ago. I tried very hard to keep Russia in character, so if he’s not, then please let me know. Thanks to @phantomhivemast3r for being my beta reader!

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Poland asked for the hundredth time.

Lithuania understood his trepidation well and had asked himself many times if this was a smart decision. It has been a while since he had a real conversation with Russia, and he wasn't looking forward to it.

"Poland, I will be fine," he reassured the blonde. "From what I've heard, Russia has changed since the last time we were… acquainted."

The Polish man let out a huff, his breath visible in the cold mid-winter air. Together they stood outside one of Lithuania's favorite restaurants where the Russian man would be waiting. Lithuania insisted on meeting at a public location on his own land.

Ugh, why did I ever agree to this? Lithuania asked himself yet again. He couldn't believe his ears when Russia called him a few days ago and asked if he wanted to meet up to "talk about some things from the past." But despite his fear, he was curious about what Russia had to say.

"I still think you're totally insane for wanting to do this, Liet. It could be a trap, or maybe he'll try to manipulate you into going back with him-"

"Trust me Po, there is nothing he could say to ever convince me to do that. And part of the agreement was that he come alone; no soldiers, government officials, or weapons allowed. If I notice anything that looks suspicious, I'm out."

The Polish man sighed in defeat. "My number is in your contact list, right?"

"The very first one," Liet said with a grin. The tiny blonde threw his arms around Lithuania's torso with enough strength to make the brunet stumble.

"Just... be safe, okay? I love you and I don't know what I'd do if anything ever happened to you. I couldn't survive you getting taken away from me again."

"P-Poland!" Lithuania said in surprise. He wrapped his arms around his boyfriend and ran his fingers through his hair, murmuring: "I promise I'll be safe." After a few minutes, the two men disentangled themselves and exchanged a look.

"I'll wait outside in the car for a few minutes after you go in. If you see anything that makes you uncomfortable…"

"I'll leave," the Lithuanian finished. "Thank you for your support, Poland. I know you don't agree with this, but I want answers."

Poland looked like he was about to argue, but instead sighed and kissed the taller man on the cheek.

"Good luck," he mumbled. Lithuania gave him one last smile before opening the door to see his former tormentor after all these years.

It didn't take long for the Lithuanian to find Russia, his tall, bulky frame coming almost immediately into view. Lithuania reluctantly took a seat on the opposite side of the booth he was at.

"Hello Litv- Lietuva. It has been quite a long time, yes?" Russia was smiling, but his tone was quieter and more cautious than Lithuania was used to hearing it. Hesitantly, the brunet nodded his head in agreement.

Lithuania noticed how the Russian man drummed his fingers on the table, a habit he had when nervous or impatient. He couldn't help but find it strange how well he remembered Russia's mannerisms after all these years.

"Have you ordered already?" Lithuania asked to break the silence.

"Ah, no. I thought it would be impolite to order before you got here. Might I ask what you would recommend?"

"Their cepelinai is quite good. I usually get that when I come here."

"Then that is what I will get as well," the Russian man smiled. "As soon as Estonia and Latvia get here, then we will enjoy-"

"They aren't coming," Lithuania answered, perhaps too curtly. After telling his brothers about Russia's sudden phone call, he found out that they received similar calls themselves, and were both shaken at the prospect of seeing Russia again. They even called him crazy for agreeing to the meeting.

"Oh, that's too bad," Russia said, disappointment clear in his eyes. Lithuania let out a sigh. Despite himself, he felt guilty for hurting the sensitive man's feelings.

"Russia, I'm sorry I snapped, but you have to understand…"

"No, no, I do understand," Russia cut him off. He put on that innocent smile that Lithuania knew he used to cover up his real emotions. "I should be grateful that even one of you agreed to see me."

"Why did you call us?" The words flew out of the Lithuanian's mouth. "I mean, why after all this time? Why now?"

"I know this may seem out of the blue, but it has been something I've wanted to do for a long time now," Russia explained. "I know I treated you and your friends horribly during those years, and I have regretted it ever since.

"I know I have no right to ask, but... do you think you could forgive me?"

Lithuania had a feeling that this is what Russia wanted to talk about, but it still felt shocking to hear after so long. Russia would occasionally apologize to him and his brothers after giving a beating that would go too far, but his remorse was always short-lived, falling back into his old ways before they knew it. Memories of those times caused centuries worth of resentment to bubble up in his stomach.

"You hurt me," Lithuania said, his words coming out in a whisper. "You hurt my brothers. Did you know we all still have nightmares of the times we lived with you?"

"Lietuva, I am sorry, but you need to understand-"

"Raivis broke down into tears when he told me you called him," Lithuania said, anger in his tone. "You hurt him so much he can't even stand to hear your voice without panicking. Estonia kept a brave face, but I could tell by the look in his eyes he was shaken."

Russia was taken aback by Lithuania's outburst, but he wasn't done.

"I still have the scars on my back. For years it hurt every single time I took a shower, or laid down in bed. I never take my shirt off in public, out of fear that someone will see and wonder what's wrong with me. I know Estonia and Latvia do the same with theirs."

"Lietuva…" Russia said, speechless for a moment. "I am sorry for hurting you and your brothers in the past, but you must understand that I didn't have a choice. My bosses… they never let me catch a break. They told me that if I didn't have absolute control over my household, the Soviet Union would fall and it would be all my fault. They threatened to do such awful things…"

"Russia, you always had a choice. Your bosses may have been harsh, but they never stuck a gun to your head and forced you to beat me unconscious for protecting my brothers. You made that choice all on your own."

"I wasn't trying to be cruel!" said Russia defensively, his hand curled up into a fist. "If maybe you would've just minded your own business and your brothers knew how to behave-"

"Don't you dare talk about them like that!" Lithuania exclaimed. "They were little more than children at the time, of course they were going to break things by accident or say inappropriate things sometimes! That doesn't give you an excuse to treat us like sh-"

"Enough, Litva!" Russia shouted, banging his fist on the table. It was loud enough that everyone in the restaurant turned to face the two arguing men. Lithuania himself, blushing and frightened, bowed his head low like a servant.

"I'm sorry, Russia. I was out of line," Lithuania whispered, trembling. It was an all too familiar sight to the Russian, one he had seen almost everyday for centuries. And yet for perhaps the first time ever, he saw himself through Lithuania's eyes.

"I-I am so sorry, Lietuva. I never meant to-" Russia stuttered, interrupted by his own tears. "Oh God, you're right, you're absolutely right. I'm a monster."

As he heard Russia's sobs, Lithuania got the courage to look up and see the broken man.

"Russia...," Lithuania whispered, speechless.

"I was so terrible to you, wasn't I? I always justified it in my mind somehow, but… do you think you could ever possibly forgive me?"

After a few minutes of Lithuania's silence, Russia sniffed and stood up, grabbing his things.

"I'm sorry I have asked you to meet me here, it was selfish. I should have left you and your brothers be. I promise I'll leave you alone from now on."

"Wait," Just as he was about to leave, Lithuania called him back. Russia turned around to face the brunet.

"To answer your question, I don't know. You hurt me and my friends and it will take a long time to get over that. I don't know if I can get over it."

"Ah, I understand," Russia said, looking dangerously close to tears again, until Lithuania added to his statement.

"However, I have been alive long enough to know with enough time, almost anything is possible. When I was married to Poland, I thought our Commonwealth would have lasted forever, and yet it did not. When I was under your control, I thought I would never taste freedom again until the day I died. And yet here I am."

"You have always been one of the strongest people I've known," Russia sniffed. "I hope what you say is true. I hope one day you won't hate me anymore and we will be friends."

"I don't hate you, Russia," the Lithuanian corrected the larger man, getting up from the booth. "I hate what you did, and I hate the person you used to be. But I know there is good inside you somewhere, even if it's hard for me to see right now. I can't promise we will ever be friends, but I don't see you as my enemy. At least, not anymore."

At this, Russia gave the brunet a genuine smile for once. "Thank you, Lietuva, for believing in me. You might be one of the few people left who does. If and when that day comes when you would like to be friends, I will be waiting for you."

Lithuania gave his former tormentor- and possible future ally- a nod. "I wish you well, Russia."

"And I as well, Lietuva."

And both men turned and left, heading off in opposite directions.

#aph lithuania #aph russia #hetalia fanfiction

[theartone]

A Study in Miscommunication - Chapter 13

<<Chapter 1 <Chapter 12

----Sherlock's POV----

"Taxi. Stopped. Nobody getting in, nobody getting out. Why a taxi?" The lighting made it clear there was someone sitting in the back. Did the man offer to split fares with people? Prey on the drunk? The out of towners? People who didn't quite know where they were? "Oh, that's clever. Is it clever? Why's that clever?" There's something I was missing. Taxi. Obvious. But a puzzle piece was out of place. The friend. The boy was in a familiar part of town. Just running home for an umbrella. I was missing something. Something important, something obvious. But I didn't know what that was. Didn't matter, I could use this to cure John's limp. "Don't stare," I ordered when John turned his whole body to look out the window. The move would be completely obvious to anyone observing us. Clearly, John wasn't one for subtlety.

John made a noise in his throat. "You're staring."

"We can't both stare," I responded. I left out the part that he probably wouldn't notice anything so I should be the one doing the staring. I was far more likely to notice something useful. That would probably be rude. I grabbed my coat before I said something unforgivable and ruined my plan. I left quickly trusting John to follow.

The man in the cab was looking around. Looking for his next victim? He was sitting in a patch of light; it was easy to see his face but not light enough to see details. I got the licence plate and taxi number just in case I needed to talk to the cabbie but I doubted I would, I was interested in his suspicious-looking passenger. How did he lure them in? The man sat back and the cab started to move. I needed to follow before they got away. I ran into the street.

A car honked and I jumped; going limp so I wouldn't get injured. This happened occasionally, I got too focused and lost track of my surroundings. It was pure reflex at this point and I vaulted off the bonnet across the street.

"I've got the cab number," John announced from behind me when I stopped to think.

Not important. He probably couldn't remember it correctly. Most people couldn't. I pulled up my map of this part of London. Soho... "Right turn one-way roadwork traffic lights pass light pedestrian crossing left hand only traffic lights..." That'd put him on Dean Street near Carlisle.

Perfect.

I started running, hearing John's footsteps close behind.

----John's POV----

"I've got the cab number," I said when Sherlock stopped. The taxi had taken off. Sherlock needed to get out of the street. He'd be hit again.

"Good for you." He said dismissively before putting his hands to his forehead and muttering about traffic lights and road work and other such things. His head snapped up and he took off, coat flapping behind him dramatically like some sort of cape.

I followed, of course. Who knew what kind of trouble Sherlock was about to get himself into?

The madman shoved someone roughly out of his way and I apologized, checking quickly to make sure Sherlock hadn't injured him. We ran inside a shop, ignoring the shopkeeper and sprinted up a narrow flight of stairs.

Sherlock didn't stop there. He found a metal spiral staircase and I wondered what in the hell he thought he was doing but didn't have the breath to ask.

"C'mon, John."

I smiled, he hadn't forgotten about me this time. I doubled my efforts to keep up. Down another spiral staircase and over a ledge onto the rooftops.

Then Sherlock leapt over a gap between buildings that gave me pause. If I fell from this height I would be seriously injured. The alley below was littered with bin bags that might have broken my fall but they were too far away. I reeled backwards.

"Come on John! We're losing him!"

Damnit! Sherlock must think it's dangerous. He needed backup. He needed me. I took two steps back and jumped.

Sherlock was waiting on the other side. He took off running as soon as I landed.

----Sherlock's POV----

I took the most convoluted route across the rooftops as I could while still keeping the time so that we wouldn't lose the cab. If we weren't there before the cab reached Carlisle Street I wouldn't know which way the cabbie went for sure and we might lose him.

Despite the many staircases and difficult jumps, John did a good job keeping up. I only had to tell him to hurry twice and I was quite proud of him and myself for this idea. Then there was a gap between roofs and John baulked. We didn't have time for him to suddenly get his limp back. "Come on, John!" I ordered. "We're losing him!" I demanded to keep the pressure on. We were losing him. If John didn't jump now at our current pace we wouldn't make it. I couldn't just abandon him though. If his limp came back he might need help getting back down to the ground. If he fell he could be seriously injured. Maybe this wasn't such a great idea after all...

John made the jump and landed safely on my side.

I breathed a sigh of relief and decided it was time to get off the roofs and back onto the streets.

When we exited the alley the cab passed us by. I was hoping I could jump in front of it and force it to stop there but John's little panic had cost us the opportunity. We weren't beat yet though. The cabbie was going down Poland. We could continue up Berwick and catch him. I knew where they were headed now. "This way."

John, of course, ran in a path that followed the cab. There was no way he'd catch him.

"No, this way!" I shouted without stopping.

I heard John's footfalls slide and pick up again.

We were too late to intercept him at Noel but if we took the alley... I leapt into the road and mistimed it. I hit into the bumper instead of up on the bonnet. But it worked! The cabbie stopped.

"Police!" I shouted. "Open her up!" I yanked the passenger door open and got a good look.

No, no, "no!" The "teeth, tan," Botox, hair dye. "What, Californian?" I confirmed this by checking his luggage. "LA, Santa Monica. Just arrived."

"How could you possibly know that?" John demanded breathlessly.

"The luggage." LAX to LHR 125-12HR-6307/1 clearly printed on the tag. How disappointing! I confirmed with him that he'd never been here before and hinted that the cabbie was scamming him but he seemed too dim-witted to pick up on that.

"Sorry, are you guys the police?"

"Yeah." I flashed one of Lestrade's warrant cards as proof. "Everything alright?" I asked. Maybe he wasn't as stupid as I'd thought because he didn't seem to be buying it. "Welcome to London," I said with a smile for lack of anything else to say. The drugs were wearing off and I was feeling funny.

"Any problems just let us know," John said before slamming the cab's door shut.

I walked away and even though the chase was over John followed me without too much of an issue. He was limping slightly but didn't seem to realize it yet. It'd almost worked! This whole night was turning out to be a disaster.

"Basically just a cab that happened to slow down."

"Basically." There was something about it though. I wish I'd never given in and... Urgh! What was I missing?! I couldn't think!

"Not the murderer."

"Not the murderer, no." Oh, no. Now I was repeating things. I hated when I did this.

"Wrong country, good alibi."

"As they go." John reached toward me and I tensed up. I needed space to think. He was so distracting! Why was he like this? So different! No one liked touching me.

"Where-" He was still rather out of breath. "-where did you get this? Here." John took the warrant card from my hand without thought. "Detective Inspector Lestrade," he read.

"Yeah." I didn't need John going all judgemental on me right now. "I pickpocket him when he's annoying." If you're not careful you'll be next. No, I was upset about the case. "You can keep that one." It will come in handy if you stay. "You can keep that one; I've got plenty at the flat."

Then John did something amazing. Instead of lecturing me on proper behaviour he started laughing. Breathlessly giggling! It was adorable!

"What?" I didn't understand his reaction. I didn't understand my reaction.

"Nothing," John said. "Just, 'Welcome to London.'" John was clearly riding some sort of high.

His laughter made me chuckle. Too involved! I'd thought that once I'd figured John out he'd become boring but John was just getting more and more interesting.

The cab was stopped and the man was talking to a PC.

"Got your breath back?" I asked.

"Ready when you are." John nearly purred the words.

I bee-lined for the flat. This could be very interesting. Very interesting indeed.

----John's POV----

Sherlock ran us down a fire escape and off a short ledge. The man had stupidly long legs and I had to really focus to keep up. I had to keep my eyes down too, I didn't want to trip on a crack or slip. I kept Sherlock's coat in my peripheral. When he slowed I looked up to see where we were. The cabbie turned and Sherlock took off in the wrong direction. I followed the cab but Sherlock yelled to follow him. I muttered an apology not having the breath to shout. It didn't matter that he wouldn't hear me. I doubted he'd care if he could.

Sherlock smacked into a wall as he careened around a corner. I was starting to get the feeling that having a doctor for a flatmate was going to be very helpful to him. I was glad he was wearing gloves otherwise he'd have scratched his palms on the brick. On an intersection, Sherlock started sprinting and I realized he was running slowly so I could keep up. It wasn't a good feeling.

Suddenly he dove forward and jumped onto the cab.

I winced in sympathy. He'd have a nasty bruise later. "Police!" Sherlock said, reaching for something in his pocket. "Open her up."

I had no idea how he was going to get out of this one. This was incredibly illegal. He opened the passenger door and I stood behind him, ready in case the suspect fled on foot.

Sherlock started muttering finally stating the man was American.

"How can you possibly know that?" I knew he was observant but that? How did he know the man wasn't just back from vacation?

Sherlock explained it was the luggage. After a short exchange, Sherlock flashed the thing from his pocket at the man and said, "Welcome to London."

Incredible.

The cabbie was running the meter so it was time to send him on his way. I decided to play along and told the man to let us know if he had any problems before shutting the door for him. I got a good look at his luggage by doing so and it did indeed have a tag.

Sherlock had stepped away and I went over to him. I was still catching my breath. I needed to work out more if we were going to do this on a regular basis. Maybe I should start jogging. I confirmed that the man was not the murder with Sherlock. I wanted to make sure he wasn't just letting him go to gather more evidence but Sherlock confirmed he was as he appeared. Sherlock didn't seem too impressed with his alibi. I would have thought it was airtight.

I wanted a better look at the thing in his hand. I wouldn't have been surprised if it was some sort of psychic paper like from Dr Who.  I was starting to feel like I'd fallen down a rabbit hole.

It was Detective Inspector Lestrade's warrant card.

"Yeah, I pickpocket him when he's annoying," Sherlock grumbled. He told me I could keep that one that he had plenty of others at the flat and that made me laugh. The DI and he must think it some sort of game otherwise Lestrade surely would have put a stop to it.

I replayed the last few minutes in my head, wanting to cement the memory forever. The entire situation was absolutely ridiculous! I couldn't help a laugh.

"What?" Sherlock asked defensively.

I made sure he knew I wasn't laughing at him. "Nothing, it's just...'Welcome to London.'"

Sherlock chuckled deeply and I knew I had to make him laugh for real. That voice...

A look down the street showed that the American had found a PC so Sherlock and I ran off before we could get into any real trouble.

I hadn't felt this alive in ages!

Chapter 14>

#chapter 13 #asim #a study in miscommunication #asip fic #moved from ao3

[justanothercinemaniac]

Epic Movie (Re)Watch #171 - X-Men: First Class

Spoilers Below

Have I seen it before: Yes

Did I like it then: Yes.

Do I remember it: Yes.

Did I see it in theaters: Yes.

Was it a movie I saw since August 22nd, 2009: Yes. #104

Format: Blu-ray

1) Poland, 1944

This film hemmed so close to the opening scene of the original X-Men film that producer Bryan Singer thought he was actually looking at the old footage. It is a smart and effective opening to the prequel, as it not only re-establishes a character who has been absent from the series for five years but also sets up his key conflict with the film. Erik is still dealing with the pain from this event in a much more key way than he is during Ian McKellen’s tenure; what he went through in the concentration camp is the driving motivation behind his actions in the film. Making this first scene all the better.

2) Young Charles & Raven.

Raven [upon first meeting Charles]: “You’re not scared of me?”

The adoptive brother/sister relationship between Charles and Raven might be totally invented for this film (as in: has no source in comic book canon which I am aware of) but I freaking love it. I’m a sucker for platonic male/female relationships and the connection these two have is in a lot of ways the beating heart of this film. Which makes it all the more tragic that they drift apart in the future (something I’m hoping will be remedied in X-Men: Dark Phoenix). The key to their relationship is that they feel safe around each other. This is the first time that either of them has realized they’re not truly alone in the world. That someone hasn’t pushed Raven away for her natural form and that Charles realizes his ability to read minds does not make him a freak. There’s a sense of ease, comfort, and community they have with each other that was totally foreign to them up until that moment. A strong foundation to a strong relationship.

3) Kevin Bacon as Sebastian Shaw.

Bacon’s Shaw was all but glossed over in most promotional materials, making his presence in the film a pleasant surprise for first time viewers. And pleasant it is because Shaw is an absolutely wonderful villain. Bacon brings a refreshing and engaging amount of charisma/fun to the part. He’s the bad guy you love to hate with a little bit of Bond villain in him. The first thing he does when we meet him in murder Erik’s mother in front of her 12ish year old son. And then he reacts with unadulterated GLEE when that murder allows Erik to tap into his mutant powers. He’s downright giddy! In a series filled with classic bad guys like Magneto and William Stryker, Shaw is able to hold up with the best of them.

Shaw [after murdering Erik’s mom]: “We’re going to have a lot of fun together.”

4) James McAvoy as Charles Xavier.

McAvoy’s Xavier is delightfully more flawed than Stewart’s. He is much more of a cad. He is more arrogant, a bit more green, a bit more cocky, and a lot more naive. BUT he’s not just that. He’s not some douche bag who learns to be a great man. You see the greatness in him still. He is still Charles Xavier after all. When things get serious, he gets serious. He lets Moira know how important this is to him, he has hope for the future of his people and he is able to put away the womanizer we meet early on when it comes to helping people. There’s still that naivety a little but, the belief that everything will be alright after they save the world. That fear will just stop. But it’s mixed in with Xavier’s trademark hope. McAvoy is great as the character and a joy to watch.

5) Jennifer Lawrence as Raven/Mystique.

Raven is in a much different place than Rebecca Romijn’s Mystique was in the original X-Men trilogy and it’s a lot of fun to watch. There is this humor and warmth to the character that we don’t often get to see. A smile, a playfulness with Charles, but we see her develop into the more jaded warrior of Magneto’s crew. Watching that transformation is great and heartbreaking, especially as it shakes up her relationship with adopted brother Xavier. And Lawrence is great in the part. A pre Hunger Games role, I think it’s one of my favorites that she has under her belt. Many of her characters are so serious and dower these days when the actress has a wonderful heart/sense of humor she gets to show off her. It’s lost in the future installments, but that makes sense considering the path the character goes down. It’s a tragedy, but one that’s good to watch.

6) Oh Charles...

Raven: “Would you date me?”

Charles: “Of course I would. Any man would be lucky to have you, you are stunning.”

Raven: “Looking like this?”

[Charles stutters for a second then looks at Raven.]

Charles: “Blue? [Beat.] You’re my oldest friend...I’m incapable of thinking of you that way. I feel responsible for you.”

He changes from, “oh absolutely,” to, “I could never think of you like that,” REALLY fast when he realizes she’s talking about her natural form. And that’s where his naivety comes into play. He doesn’t understand what it’s like hiding who you really are in such a basic and obvious way. Not telling someone you can read their minds is fundamentally harder than having to wear a skin that isn’t your’s because you think people will reject your natural form. And that’s the key to her conflict in this film. Being mutant and proud.

7) McAvoy and Lawrence have such a wonderful natural chemistry as adopted brother & sister, must obvious in the scene above when Raven asks Charles if he’d date her. Her snuggling up to her brother while he reads her his thesis makes my heart melt.

8) Michael Fassbender as Erik/Magneto.

Honestly the casting of Erik & Charles could have been royally screwed up. This film does it perfectly. Fassbender brings a single determination and focus to his character. He is ruthless, brutal, violent, intimidating, but you still sympathize with him. Hell, you are ROOTING for him. In a lot of ways he’s even more sympathetic than Charles is. Fassbender is able to play the pain Erik has been though with much more relevance than McKellen ever got the chance to because the story allows it. He is in anger mode, with a bit of self loathing (he is what he is because a man murdered his mother, in his mind) but more with a taste for vengeance.  Fassbender is absolutely beautiful in the part and I wouldn’t ask for a different actor to play him.

9) Of course within one minute of meeting Rose Byrne’s character she is strips into her underwear because, hey, sexy women get objectified in film!

(GIF originally posted by @chirrutimwae)

Yes, I understand that the Hellfire club is like a sexy lingerie strip club thing. Yes I understand that Moira is a determined CIA agent who will do her job no matter what. And yes this is the only time Moira does this and she’s actually a pretty great character. But you know what? The Hellfire club did not NEED to be a sexy lingerie strip club. It could’ve been some elegant hoity-toity how do you do thing. And Moira didn’t need to strip down to her lingerie at all in the film. It was not needed. It does not tell us anything about her character or the story.

Ugh, living in a post Wonder Woman world is going to be a lot harder than I thought. I mean, I wasn’t exactly blind before. But I definitely needed glasses to see through the haze which is the male gaze and now I do with Wonder Woman. And now it’s just...oh boy.

10) Rose Byrne as Moira is a solidly written character that the actress plays well. The filmmakers don’t spend much time focusing on the, “Moira in her underwear,” stuff and she turns into pretty much the best government agent in the film. She is intelligent, more focused on the job than any of her coworkers (who are dogged down by fear, bigotry, and male ego), and she forms this nice relationship with Charles which yes ends up romantic but is also more based on mutual respect. I love couples with mutual respect for each other. Rose Byrne plays the part wonderfully. I love the actress now BECAUSE I was introduced to her in this film. She is capable, strong, but not pigheaded or egotistical. She’s good at her job and she knows it so she continues to be good at her job.

11) January Jones as Emma Frost.

So I know there is a lot of hate out there for January Jones as Frost, but I don’t really mind her. But I’m not going to like strongly defend her either. I put more blame on the writing than her as she works with what she is given. Emma Frost is this badass in the comics who - yes - dresses in a VERY sexual manor (because she likes to, I believe) but she is also wonderfully complex. She usually has an intense rivalry with Jean Grey, is often romantically linked to Scott Summers, is an extremely powerful telepath, reformed bad guy who is often not so reformed, and over all fascinating read. But the filmmakers sorta just latched onto the, “sexy female bad guy with diamond skin and telepathic powers.” Which would’ve been fine is Emma had been developed a bit more but she never really goes beyond that/Shaw’s hench woman.

And again, the power of Wonder Woman has me asking: why is she dressing so sexually? I mean if there’s like a legitimate reason, like the character is more comfortable with that or confident in her body, than go for it! But a reason is never given she just does that and it seems to be for the sake of the male gaze. Which is disappointing to say the least.

12) The scene which I (and Henry Jackman’s score) refers to as Frankenstein’s Monster.

This is Erik at his most brutal. He finds those two “former” Nazis (can you ever really be a former Nazi if you’re not repenting for your sins?) in a bar and engages in conversation with them. It’s incredible tense in the most wonderful sense, because Erik is enjoying screwing with these Nazis. And then he cuts them down in the most brutal and badass way possible in a wonderful (and wonderfully simple) moment of action supported by Henry Jackman’s incredible score. I am very much enjoying any and all forms of media where Nazis are absolutely wrecked so this has is even more enjoyable now than it was in 2011.

13) The blonde Charles with looked familiar to me...

Then I realized she’s Annabelle Wallis, who is in The Mummy with Tom Cruise.

As of writing I have yet to see the new Mummy film so I don’t like or dislike this actress. Just noticed it.

14) When I first saw this it took a second to sink in.

Charles [to the CIA agent who accused him of doing a magic trick]: “No agent Stryker. Although I could tell you about your son William...”

15) Oliver Platt as the Man in Black.

I enjoy Platt’s performance in this film. He’s not your typical government stooge to keep the heroes in line. He’s like a kid at Christmas. All these years he thought the impossible wasn’t so impossible and now he has proof. And he’s super excited about that and helpful because of it. He’s just a wonderful addition to the film.

16) According to IMDb:

A telepathic battle between Professor X and Emma Frost was going to be in the film, but upon the release of Inception (2010) the concept was scrapped. This was then used in X-Men: Apocalypse (2016), between Professor X and Apocalypse.

17) So let’s consider Charles and Erik’s first encounter, shall we:

Charles jumps in to save the life of a man he doesn’t know.

Charles helps Erik to calm down and find peace because he doesn’t like him to be upset.

And of course, this:

Erik: “I thought I was alone!”

Charles: “You’re not alone, Erik. You’re not alone.”

Yes this is a strong first interaction between what will be the bromantic frenemy relationship of the century, but more so than that it plays into some strong conscious gay subtext feature in the film. Like in X2 when Bobby came out to his family as a mutant, there are small but important lines between being a mutant and being gay. Two lines stand out in particular: the one above and then...

Hank [when he’s outed as a mutant]: “You didn’t ask so I didn’t tell.”

X-Men have traditional been used as a parable for those fighting for their rights in those world (specifically America). When they were first being published there was a strong line between Professor X & Martin Luther King Jr. as well as Magneto & Malcolm X. But as times have evolved, so have the X-Men. With a number of LGBTQIA actors and characters in the franchise, in the 21st century X-Men has at times strongly paralleled the issues gay people face in this world. Particularly through Hank’s, “don’t ask don’t tell,” line and Erik’s, “I thought I was alone.” Gay visibility was not as much of a thing in the 50s as it is in 2017, and it was in the 60s when things like the Stonewall Riots occurred giving gay people much more visibility. This film is set in the 60s.

18) Nicholas Hoult as Hank McCoy/Beast.

Hoult brings a lot of heart to the character originated brilliantly by Kelsey Grammer in The Last Stand (Hoult even watched early episodes of “Frasier” to see if he couldn’t emulate Grammer in any way). He features the same intellect as Grammers’ Beast but is a lot more soft spoken. He has not made peace with the animal side of himself yet or who he really is. Like Raven, he needs to learn to take pride in his status as a mutant. He just gets there in a different way than she does. This was the first film I saw with Hoult and I have to say I’m glad for it. Because I think he’s a talented actor who was able to make the role of Hank McCoy remarkably memorable.

19) There is also a notably strong chemistry between Nicholas Hoult and Jennifer Lawrence. It isn’t like Emma Stone & Andrew Garfield in Amazing Spider-Man where you can see them getting hot just by being near each other, but it’s incredibly cute and adorable. There’s a natural back and forth between the pair, a natural trust which means we as the audience are invested in their blossoming relationship as well.

20) While I personally think the relationship between Charles and Raven gives the life its heart, that is not to undersell the intense importance Charles/Erik’s relationship is.

Erik: “What do you know about me?”

Charles: “Everything.”

There is this immediate vulnerability Erik has with Charles which he is NOT comfortable with (since in the past he’s been vulnerable under the worst possible of situations), but Charles doesn’t manipulate Erik with the knowledge he has. There’s an immediate depth of feeling the future Professor X has for his new ally. He wants to make sure he’s okay and the fact that he doesn’t take advantage of Erik’s vulnerability is something Erik is not used to. Meaning Erik trusts Charles more than he has trusted anyone ever before and Charles is able to help Erik reach his full potential as Magneto.

21) I laughed SO hard at this line the first time I saw the film.

Hank [when he hooks up Charles to Cerebro]: “Are you sure we can’t shave your head?”

(GIF source is unknown [if this is your GIF please let me know].)

22) The montage where Erik and Charles find all the mutants to make up the first X-Men team is a slick way of covering a sequence which could have easily dogged down the pacing of the film. Instead, “okay, we need to find Angel and Havok and Darwin and Banshee...” they just cover it in about five minutes with upbeat music and clever pacing/editing.

23) The gay subtext in this film COULD have been much more obvious if they had kept this deleted (where Charles shows off his powers to angel):

24) This is beautiful.

(GIF originally posted by @littlerebelrabbit)

According to IMDb:

Hugh Jackman accepted the opportunity to cameo as Wolverine, when he learned he would be the only character in the film to use the word 'fuck'. He improvised the line, "Go fuck yourself," after using seven other takes to say, "Fuck off". The reaction from James McAvoy and Michael Fassbender to the different line was authentic.

My entire process while watching this scene the first time was, “Hey, that guy looks familiar. Huh, he kinda looks like Hugh Jackman. Hey wait, that IS Hugh Jackman!” This is by far one of my favorite cameos in a film EVER and his appearance makes Hugh Jackman the only actor (to date) to appear in every film with the words X-Men in the title (he didn’t appear in Deadpool so he hasn’t appeared in every X-Men universe ever).

25) I mentioned in my recap for The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen that Jason Flemyng is one of my favorite character actors because of that film. Well he fills out Azazel’s red skin quite nicely.

26) Charles and Erik’s scene at the Lincoln Memorial is very telling of their future rivalry.

Erik: “Identification: that’s how it starts.”

This is where Erik’s naivety truly shines through. He actually believes he can convince humans to not be afraid of what they don’t understand, collectively. While Erik’s output might be a little more dower it’s also a little more realistic.

27) The bonding scene between the young X-Men is great.

I’m a sucker for superheroes screwing around with their powers as a way to bond with each other (see: the party seen in Age of Ultron). There is strong humor throughout, each character is developed in simple yet unique ways and we begin to understand their relationships with each other. And it’s just a lot of fun to watch!

Note: I really like Zoe Kravitz in this film, but I think that speaks to her natural charisma more than anything else.

28) Professor Xavier is a jerk.

Charles [after he finds his new mutants comfortable with their powers, screwing around like the young people they are]: “I expected more from you.”

29) The way Erik tears through the Russian guard to get to Frost (and, by extension, Shaw eventually) shows how determined he is. He is ruthless and if anyone actively stands in his way he will tear them apart. It’s simple but powerful. The way he handles Emma also shows off this dedication, as well as the dissonance between how far he’ll go versus how far Charles WON’T go.

30) The “Children of the Atom” scene which showcases Shaw’s plan is nicely effective. It has a unique and impactful visual style and its simple enough that the audience isn’t dogged down by unnecessary exposition.

31) Shaw’s attack on the CIA is an incredibly strong turning point for the film. Outside of what’s been going on with Erik, the darkness of previous X-Men films has pretty much taken a backseat in this film. Until this moment. It’s when everything turns to shit, giving an unfortunate end to Oliver Platt’s character and showcasing Shaw’s powers in a unique and threatening way. The few issues I have with this scene are:

I wish we got more in Angel’s head about her decision to join up with Shaw; she does so then her character kind of disappears. It’s like she’s his new Emma.

Even in 2011, the black guy dies first.

32) My brother and I both made this joke the first time we saw this film, so thanks to @jakegyllenhaal for putting it in GIF form.

33) Okay, I might be about to get philosophical here.

Stryker: “In times like this, SECURITY is more important than liberty.”

(GIF source unknown [if this is your GIF please let me know].)

This is an issue in today’s modern age, but here’s the thing: liberty is more important than safety. Above all. “Give me liberty or give me death,” is a famous line that is basically one of the things this country is built on. So no, Security is NOT more important than liberty. Liberty and freedom above all. And if you have to compromise on security to do so than you should. At least, in my opinion.

34) X-Training.

This is - in a lot of ways - what I’ve missed from the X-Men series. Charles actually being a teacher. Actually seeing the X-School in work and seeing students learn to master their powers. You know why Harry Potter is so cool? In part, it’s because we like to imagine taking all the classes. And now we’ve finally get that. It shows Charles being more of a teacher and growing into his role of Professor X more which is wonderful. Also - like the recruitment scene - the montage format is great. The editing and music keep it from dragging down the film. We could easily have spent like, “okay, two minutes on Beast now two minutes on Havok now two minutes on Banshee,” etc. But the montage makes it like a music video. Easily digestible, supported by Henry Jackman’s score, and just a lot of fun. Each character’s development is also continued, making them unique individuals who’s relationships with each other and personalities we understand. It’s just really great.

35) Glad to see they’re trying to maintain SOME continuity with the series.

Hank [about Raven]: “When you’re 40 you’ll still have the looks and sights of a teenager.”

36) Rage and serenity.

This is the moment of greatest trust and vulnerability Erik has with Charles. Erik trusts Charles enough to let him go through his mind and find his most intimate memory with his mother. It’s a holiday I assume (that’s a menorah so I’m thinking Hanukkah as Erik IS Jewish) and it’s this beautiful memory of someone he misses more than anything else. And it shows Charles who Erik is. It is the strongest moment in their entire relationship and defines it’s better qualities in a lot of ways. It’s pure character and I love it for that.

37) Hank and the cure.

(GIF source unknown [if this is your GIF please let me know].)

There’s a strong juxtaposition between where Hank is with his self worth and Raven. Magneto has convinced Raven that she should be mutant and proud, that she should embrace her natural form. And she tries to do the same. It doesn’t exactly work though.

Hank: “My feet and your natural blue form will never be deemed beautiful. [Raven changes her skin back.] You’re beautiful now.”

Dude, you just said the girl you like will never be beautiful unless she looks like someone else. And I get that you’re projecting your own issues onto her, but also you’re words hurt her so much that she instinctively goes back into hiding.

Aka: the moment Hank and Raven would not get together (as of now).

38) Charles and Erik playing one last chess game before going to stop Shaw.

It is widely foreshadowing of the conflict to come between the pair and an unfortunate piece of dramatic irony for us as the audience. It is the showcase of the dissonance in their relationship at its most basic.

Charles: “Killing Shaw will not bring you peace.”

Erik: “Peace was never an option.”

That is just not applicable to Shaw for Erik, but humans as well. He’s not interested in peace with humanity, he’s interested in supremacy. As we saw in 2000′s X-Men.

39) Mystique seducing Erik always felt a little off to me. I know she’s mad at Hank and that Erik is the only guy in her life right now to make her feel totally comfortable with who she is (along with helping her be mutant and proud) but it feels a little unearned. I don’t get any sexual chemistry between them. I see a nice relationship but not a sexual one. Maybe it’s just me. But the Rebecca Romijn cameo is appreciated!

40) Hank’s gone into Beast mode.

The practical makeup to get Hoult looking like the blue beast is incredible, because it IS largely practical with a bit of CGI to help enhance some areas. You begin to see a bit more of Kelsey Grammer in Beast now which is fun, but Hoult still makes the role his own. This is what helps him accept the animalistic instincts in him and reach the status of mutant and proud. It’s a great part of the film.

41) Now I’m just thinking about the first X-Men...

42) The climax of the film not only shows the team working well together but has some nice surprises in it (mainly when the Russians blow up their own ship). It’s best seen when the team find Shaw’s submarine and Erik says he’s going in. Charles does not question or second guess his teammate’s decision but works with it and sends him back up. It’s a lot of fun to watch this team in action.

43) Erik and Shaw’s final encounter.

For most of this scene Erik is silent, just letting Shaw rail on him because it allows Erik’s telepathy to feed through. He says nothing until he’s about to be in control which takes a lot of self discipline.

Erik: “Everything you did made me stronger...That’s the truth. I’ve known it all along.”

And then what Erik says right before he kills Shaw is INCREDIBLY powerful especially when you think of the path Magneto goes down.

Erik: “I agree with every word you’ve said. We are the future. But unfortunately, you killed my mother.”

The way Erik ends up killing Shaw is so cruel and dramatic then, with the mirrored cinematography on Charles’ head (as he’s in Shaw’s mind) just driving the point home. He’s not just killing Shaw. He’s killing any kind of platonic relationship he could have with Charles too.

44) And so Erik’s transformation to Magneto is complete.

He is now the mutant leader we know from the first film, with his powers under full control. Now that he’s done with revenge he can move on to freeing his mutant brothers and sisters. He’s embraced not just his powers but his role as a leader of mutants and an enemy of mankind. And he’s tired of being vulnerable.

Charles [about the US and Russians Erik is about to kill]: “They’re just following orders!”

Erik: “I’ve been at the mercy of men just following orders.”

(GIF source unknown [if this is your GIF please let me know].)

45) The ensuing fist fight between Charles and Erik could have easily been based around powers. Charles could have used his telepathy to control Azazel or Angel or someone and send them in to fight Erik with him using his metal manipulation to throw them off. But you know what? Seeing this too just get in a freaking fist fight is much more realistic for their relationship, a lot more raw, and a lot more entertaining.

46) Well, if this isn’t a declaration of platonic (???) love I don’t know what is.

(GIF originally posted by @marveladdicts)

47) It’s nice to see Mystique not go straight for Erik to join him but to make sure that the person who is practically her brother is alright. And then Charles encourages her to go with Erik! It’s still a strong relationship even if it is in tatters.

48) Charles likes to fuck with people’s minds without consent. What he did to Jean in The Last Stand and now getting rid of Moira’s memories without even asking.

49) Oh man.

Moira [talking about things she half remembers]: “A kiss.”

[Room full of male CIA agents groan.]

CIA Agent: “Gentlemen, this is why the CIA is no place for a woman.”

(GIF originally posted by @manofsteel)

50) The ending to this film is very solid, with Erik not only embracing his role as Magneto but also the fashion choice.

(GIF originally posted by @wonho-kihyun)

X-Men: First Class is an incredible amount of fun. Matthew Vaughn’s directing style gives the series a boost of adrenaline it desperately needed. Supported by memorable characters, a strong story with strong themes, and absolutely amazing performances almost across the board, this is the reason we still have X-Men films today. An absolute treat for first time viewers and old fans alike, you all should watch it.

#X Men First Class #X Men #Michael Fassbender #James McAvoy #Jennifer Lawrence #Epic Movie (Re)Watch #Zoe Kravitz #Oliver Platt #January Jones #Rose Byrne #Nicholas Hoult #Hugh Jackman #Matthew Vaughn #Kevin Bacon #Rebecca Romijn #Jason Flemyng #Annabelle Wallis #I See What You Did There #Loading

[settingtrends]

yes hello i would love some sterek fic recs please? 👀 what have you been reading lately 👀

*screams* i've been reading so much!!!!!!!!!!! my brain feels like it’s been through a sterek crash course!!!!!!!!! and i hate doing fic recs because i always find more fics i wanna read!!!!!!!!! *screams louder* here are some fics for you!!!! sorry for answering so late!!!! love you A Lot!!!!!!!

you’ve got notes by the_gramophone

Stiles Stilinski has wanted star basketball player Derek Hale forever, but what are the odds of that ever happening? A love story of letters, prom, and the healing power of milkshakes.

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14,817 words

can i get your (call) number, baby? by lielabell

Thing is, for the most part, Stiles's loves his job.  He loves the quiet hush of the library, the way it smells like must and old books.  He likes walking through the stacks, collecting books to be shelved.  Likes sitting at the reference desk, hell, he even likes the fact that they still have a card catalog, even though no one ever uses it.  Everything about the job is amazing.  

Except...

Except for the music majors.

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4,946 words

territorial by anxiety_baker02

Stiles managed to get himself in the middle of his pack’s turf war.He gets injured, and Derek turns him in order to save him.

Or:

In Which Derek ignores Stiles because he thinks Stiles is mad at him, Stiles thinks Derek is ignoring him because he’s pissed that Stiles is now a werewolf, and they’re both oblivious idiots.

-

4,652 words

stiles, 5+1 things by anxiety_baker02 

Five times Stiles wanted to know what was wrong with Derek, and the one time he figured it out.

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4,208 words

blood is (not) thicker than water by anxiety_baker02

Stiles hasn’t seen his extended family in years- mostly because they’re assholes. His cousins bully him relentlessly, and his aunts and uncles aren’t much better. So when he hears that they’re coming out for a family reunion, he’s understandably upset. He knows the next week is going to be hell, and it’s made worse when a new pack shows up, vowing revenge on their pack.

-

75,113 words (wip)(it’s on the epilogue so it’s almost done)

kidnapped! (again, stiles?) by anxiety_baker02

When you fall in love with your soulmate, a soulmark appears on your arm. Stiles’ soulmark has been appearing for over six months, which just means he’s falling in love slowly. But there’s one problem- he doesn’t know who it is!

Or:

Everyone except Stiles (and who he’s in love with) knows who it is.

Also, Stiles gets kidnapped once or twice, but whatever.

-

24,753 words

worlds apart by siny (*screams about this fic in multiple octaves bc LOVE her*)

Derek Hale, Heir Prince of Betonia and Italy, meets Stiles Stilinski, college boy.

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92,506 words

we should just kiss (like real people do) by i_am_girlfriday

Stiles is the social zero of the sophomore class. Derek is the much cooler junior who befriends Stiles anyway.

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9,483 words

where others fade away by pr1nc3ssp34ch (dallisons)

When the name Grzegorz tattoos itself across Derek's wrist in neat, thin strokes, his mother pats him on the head in sympathy and Laura laughs so hard she has to go to her room, the sound echoing down the hall as she goes. When it stays there for six years and no such Grzegorz appears, Derek seriously considers moving to Poland.

Meanwhile, on Stiles' eighteenth birthday when Derek crawls onto his skin, untidy and volatile, Lydia shrieks in sudden realization, and Jackson looks so entirely offended that even Danny can't kiss him back to normal.

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9,054 words

then you’ll get along by scepticallyopenminded

“Stiles, stop hitting on my deputies and bring me dinner, would you?” The Sheriff sticks his head out of his office then, and Stiles blushes as amusement settle on Derek’s face. He watches as Stiles glares at him with a “shut it”, but Derek just gives him a wink. Stiles trips a little as he starts walking away, but looks back at Derek with wide eyes before smirking again.

-

650 words

love, physics and post-it notes by inessa_caliburn

A Lit student's awkward attempts at wooing an Astrophysics student with cheesy pick-up lines with a (vaguely) scientific tone.

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3,533 words

baking my way into your heart by thesilence (the love I have for this fic wow)

Derek is an uptight college student, all work and no play. His carefully scheduled life is thrown kilter when his regular barista is replaced with someone new.

-

178,360 words

let’s not fake this by foxerica (ericismeg)

Two idiots in love who think having a fake relationship and a fake breakup is the way to handle clearing the air when some people assume they’re dating... because that’s what they told them.

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5,650 words

diamond by ericaismeg

Allison and Lydia own an wedding planning company called, Allydia Diamond Events. Stiles has been working for them for four years as their caterer. Their latest client? Erica Reyes from high school. She brings in Derek Hale with her.

Derek used to hate Stiles in high school, and he clearly still does. That doesn't stop Stiles from crushing on his client - knowing he's getting married doesn't stop him.

Only Derek's not getting married to Erica. He's just lost his ability to speak around Stiles. Again.

-

8,926 words

haze by ericaismeg

BASED ON THIS TUMBLR POST: i really want an “i accidentally broke into your house/apartment because my friend lives next door to you and i was in the area, drunk, and i thought i was climbing into the right window and falling asleep on the right couch (and i did wonder when my friend got two cats but i didn’t question it) so now i’m hungover and shirtless in your living room so um hi howya doin” au

* * *

In Stiles' drunken haze, he breaks into the wrong dorm room. But then Derek's making him breakfast, and he thinks he should do this more often.

-

4,817 words

simple by ericaismeg

Stiles' ex-boyfriend, Jackson, is at the same bar. With Stiles' longtime crush, Lydia Martin. Stiles needs a fake boyfriend yesterday. Who better than Mr. Grumpy Pants who he'd almost spilled his drink on earlier?

Not to mention, damn, Mr. Grumpy Pants is hot. And that's why Jackson's not buying the fact that they're dating.

-

4,460 words

knowledge by ericaismeg

Stiles crashes in Lydia's bedroom during one of her parties, and Derek comes in to hide there.

He learns some stuff about the popular jock - like the fact that he's fun to flirt with.

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3,383 words

pretty words by ericaismeg

“Anything for my favourite wolf.”“I beat Scott?” Derek's surprised.Stiles snorts. “Dude, no one beats Scott. That's like a given.”Derek rolls his eyes. “And for a second there, I thought that you might be a romantic.”“You want romance? Oh, hell yes, I can romance the fuck out of you, wolfie. Just wait.”“I'm dying in anticipation,” Derek deadpans.

OR: The one where Stiles and Derek try to out-romance each other, and Derek realizes that he has feelings for none other than Stiles Stilinski.

- 

8,321 words

denial by ericaismeg

Scott thinks they're flirting. Isaac's betting on Derek sniffing him. The Sheriff thinks they're dating. Erica and Boyd are rooting for them. Derek's waiting for him to figure it out.

Stiles is the only one in denial.

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4,924 words

outside by ericaismeg

Stiles just kind of barges into Derek's life, and falls down more than one should. That's okay though, because Derek invests in a great First Aid kit, and patches Stiles up.

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4,593 words

114% hotter than usual by ericaismeg

Stiles has a crush on the local weatherman, and then they meet at a party.

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3,081 words

i have a fiancé by lemnerd

“I can’t wait to marry you.” the man says.

“Okay, but I already have a fiancé. His name is Derek.” Stiles hears himself saying.

Wherein Stiles is extremely drunk and makes out with his fiancé, without knowing that his fiancé is his fiancé. It’s all very confusing.

-

1,999 words

are you bored yet? by lemnerd

Derek's date isn't going to show up anytime soon, so he figures he might as well just get going. He wants to go home and curl up on the couch and read Hemmingway. It's Friday, anyway. He doesn't want to spend his valuable Friday in a restaurant being stood up.He's just going to go home, and have a nice, quiet evening.

Then someone sits down across from him. It's definitely not his date, it's a boy who looks fearful.

"Hey! Thanks for waiting for me," he says. Except Derek's sure he's never met the kid in his life.

"Uh." Derek responds, eloquently.

The boy holds his phone up in Derek's face. The screen doesn't have a picture of a puppy, though. It has the following words:

PLEASE HELP ME, I'M BEING FOLLOWED BY SOME CREEPY GUY.

or the one where Derek gets stood up by his actual date, and a stranger needs him to be his pretend date.

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1,564 words

until i stayed away too long by melofttroll

NY Times bestseller Derek Hale hates a lot of things about being a modern author.  Like being recognized, like needing a social media presence, like not being able to buy his own boxed spaghetti noodles without being asked for a selfie.  Facing writer's block, he escapes to his old hometown of Beacon Hills, at his sister's insistence, for some reprieve and hopefully motivation.  It's there his attention is captured by a gangly, socially awkward teacher, and the tiny little toddler at his side who know him only as that one basketball player who fled town at fifteen after his girlfriend burnt his house down.

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14,847 words

awful, wonderful you by stilinkskisparkles

Truth be told, Derek was suffering from the mild delusion he lived in all summer wherein he actually thought this year might be different, and he might, perhaps, be able to bury the hatchet with Stiles and start over.

The superglue that’s destroyed a ninety dollar pair of pants, however, says otherwise. Derek knows how this play goes down; eventually, he’s going to have to climb out of the pants and trudge back to his dorm half naked. Stiles will gloat for a damn week; Derek will have to put up with constant remarks about Stiles getting him out of his pants... Dammit, he’s actually going to get Derek out of his pants, and it’s not even close to the way he pictured it happening.

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16,925 words

celebrity crush by rarepairenabler 

Stiles wasn’t expecting to meet his favourite actor when Scott helped him land an internship on the set of Jackson’s new film, and he certainly wasn’t expecting Derek to fall in love with him. Not that Stiles was complaining.

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30,307 words

a nice ring to it by jomouse (ziam/sterek crossover brooooooo!!!!!!)

Stiles and Derek are in England to visit Jackson and the Windsor Pack. While there, they meet a powerful magic-user and his protector.

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11,011 words

like a flower bending in the breeze (you have a way with me) 

by awaitthemorrow

The thing is that Stiles and Derek are kind of pretty good friends now. They watch baseball together, talk about their lives (and their friends) over take-out, they exchange texts all the time about stupid, non-supernatural stuff. Just last week they saw some arty-farty indie film that they both hated.

So what if Stiles has a tiny, minuscule crush on the guy? It's not worth rocking the boat over.

-

5,640 words

driving mr. stilinski by literaryoblivion

Out of breath and a little sweaty, Stiles says, “That was close.”

His driver looks at him through the rearview mirror, an eyebrow raised. “Where to, Mr. Stilinski?” he asks.

Stiles runs a hand through his hair and sighs. “Derek, how many times do I have to tell you, please call me Stiles. Every time you say Mr. Stilinski, I think of my dad and just no.”

Derek shrugs and looks in the mirror, expectant. Stiles stares back at him in the mirror, just as expectant, lifting his brow a little until Derek huffs and rolls his eyes. “Stiles, where would you like me to drive you?”

-

2,428 words

starstruck (or not) by literaryoblivion

Derek takes his daughter Lia to a convention of her favorite TV show because he's a good dad (and can't seem to tell his daughter no) and ends up meeting a special someone.

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4,158 words

a lifetime (with you) by charlesdk

If you ask him, Derek will tell you he's doing fine. He's raising his five year old daughter, Erica, on his own, he has his family and a book series published that's pretty popular and sold well. Under a pseudonym, sure, but it counts.

He'll tell you he's doing pretty alright – right up until Stiles Stilinski stumbles into his and Erica's lives and never really leaves again.

Derek's world gets shaken up, but things get better. Slowly, for all of them.

-

30,793 words

i’ll stop the world and dance with you by im2old4thisotp

Stiles Stilinski is a widow and a single father, navigating the world the best he can with his 8-year-old daughter Emilie.

Parent's Night at her ballet school is the problem.

A rainbow tutu is the solution.

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10,300 words

parent volunteering by charwright5

Derek is battling a crush on his young daughter's third grade teacher, so naturally, he's stuck as the parent volunteer during the school's Polar Express event the last half-day of school before Christmas break.

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10,217 words

last lovesong of a dying lemon by wldnst

Stiles' Jeep keeps breaking down. Derek is a mechanic.

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10,424 words

the best men by grimmypuff

Planning a wedding? Not really something Stiles ever wanted to do, thanks. But when best bro duty calls, you answer. Luckily, another best bro has been called up as well. Enter Derek Hale.

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12,939 words

for goodness cakes by yodasyoyo

Derek owns a bakery and Stiles comes in wanting something for a broken heart (very over-dramatic about it) but he gets so distracted by the cake (muscles) that he totally forgets alllll about it.

OR: Stiles eats a lot of cake. Derek's communication skills are lacking. And they bitch and snark their way to a happy ending.

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3,462 words

good intentions by yodasyoyo

In which Stiles thought he fake wolf-married Derek twenty-six years previously. Turns out it wasn't as fake as he thought.

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4,023 words

#I have...……..so many new fics to read now...……….I will be providing y'all with #an updated list within the next week - whether you want it or not thank you good byE #ADLFJADLFJD #love you ems love love love you thANKS BYE

[niuniente]

If it's not too private, what were your past lives like? Love your work niu :)

WHICH ONE OF THEM ALL WHICH I CAN REMEMBER LOL? :’DDD

I list here shortly the ones I can currently remember. Some I remember very well and detailed, some are just small glimpses.- Viking warrior, a very tall blond man. I died in a battle, bleeding to death. It was winter and crows were circling on the sky while I laid on my back and waited for death.- Young Japanese man, very arrogant asshole. I had a few years younger girlfriend/wife who I treated like filth. She got fed up with me and left, so I had a revenge on her by killing myself in my rage when I was 23. I was an idiot. My suicide affected her life in a negative way and I was ashamed of it after my death.- Wandering Japanese swordman. I had a student, a younger man, following me. I was in late 20 or early 30′s. I died in a battle when some arrogant swordman wanted to duel with me and I accepted it, thinking I could beat him. My student was devastated and enraged by my sudden death.- Japanese woman, who was taken to brothel ran by a criminal gang at the age of 16. My family was poor and my old father was in dept for the criminals and couldn’t pay back. As he was too old and weak to work for the criminals to pay the dept, they took me. I stayed in the brothel till my early 30′s, had a son which was given to monastery in the same time right after birth, and finally got free. The life started bad but ended up well. I climbed up to the highest level in the brothel’s hierarchy and the criminals and the other girls became my family.-  A mother of 5 children and wonderful husband, somewhere in Europe in 1000-1100. My husband got into a quarrel with a drunken man and was stabbed to death. He bleed to death in my arms and I never recovered from the loss. I married his friend, because he wanted to help me out for my husband’s sake, but I never smiled again after my husband died.- A high class woman, most likely from Poland, in 1600-something. I was married to a German count. It was a shock to move to this isolated small mansion to a country with foreign language I didn’t understand. I was lonely though my husband was kind. I was attacked and raped in this life by two men and I got pregnant. I worried husband is going to throw me away but he supported me and we grew my son as our own. We had our own kids, too. I still have love-hate relationship to German language!- A small girl, drown into a small bond at age of 4. My sister was my mother back then.- A young girl, raised by a single father in a military school fortress, most likely in Scotland in 1300-something. I had 4 older brothers and my father was a knight, who ran a military school for young men. I was a tomboy and wanted to do same things as my brothers. My nanny didn’t like it when I wasn’t girly. I often ran away from her and went to play out among the soldiers and dad’s right hand men. I ended up into a horrible marriage when my father remarried (bc others pushed him into) a woman who was my age. My brothers resisted both dad’s new marriage and my marriage. After 2 years I returned back home from the miserable, violent marriage. I had, however, lost my servant girl, who had been with me since I was 12 or similar. She was my best friend. She couldn’t follow me to my new home, because my husband forbid it, so she was had to go to another family for work.- A young, very handsome and muscular man somewhere in Middle-East A VERY LONG TIME AGO. I was suspected for a crime I did not do. When I refused to confess this assumed crime, I was tortured by pulling me teeth out. A few days later the real culprit was caught and I was let out, but I had only 3 teeth left. I was so ashamed of my looks and talking that I got depressed. There was a woman who truly loved me and didn’t care of my loss of teeth, but I didn’t believe her, so we drifted apart because of my depression.- A very sadistic man somewhere in Russia. My joy was to capture enemy men and torture them violently. I’m pretty sure it had also some sexual sadism there, though I never touched the men sexually. As long as they kept screaming in agony, they were fun toys. When they lost too much blood and couldn’t scream anymore, I tossed them somewhere; along a road, into forest, into ditch ect. and left them there to die. - A nurse around Middle-Ages. I took care of war patients, who had lost limps. Many of them where dying. I made sure that if someone was dying and aware of it, I stayed next to his bed, holding his hand and soothing him so that he didn’t need to die alone.- A rich business’ man’s daughter in Middle-East, long time ago. I was married to a lot older man, who was my father’s close business partner. I was witty and full of fire, and my husband couldn’t stand me. I had this room full of pillow, pretty fabrics and books, where I spend my time and to where my husband send me as a punishment if I was too difficult. I had a bodyguard who was supposed to look after me and keep me in check, but he was my friend. Only friend. My husband was actually gay and had a partner. They were together for many decades and he came to mourn into our house when my husband was dying of old age. We stayed married all those years, but had nothing to do with each other.- An old granny, living somewhere in the woods with a cat. I enjoyed my isolated life. It was very peaceful life. My mother had knowledge of spells and she could read, she she had taught me those skills,too.- A young woman, who knew lots of about herbs and such. I was hung on a tree by villagers as a witch and I was super angry about it.- A 17 year old girl who gave a birth to a dead baby, somewhere in the Middle-Age or something. It was my first pregnancy and both me and my young husband were happy about it. I had a funny feeling that something’s not right a few days before the birth, and when the time for birth arrived I started to panic and repeat that we need to get the baby out quick, right now, we have to get the baby out! Older midwifes didn’t believe me and they actually got angry when I didn’t shut up but kept freaking out that there’s something wrong with the baby. The baby was born dead (baby had been alive but strangled to an umbilical cord) and I got really depressed. I was afraid of second pregnancy, but that went fine.- A man in Laos, when Vietnam’s War started. I refused to fight Americans with other men, so we were hiding in the jungle. Our enemies were Americans and also our owns, as we were seen as traitors who should be killed. Americans ambushed one of our hiding places and I got shot to death. I had a white, round scar like birth mark, like from bullet, on my stomach, all the way to early 20′s. I still dislike natural places with lots of grass and bushes and bad visibility, because in this man’s life those places hid traps.

- A melancholic woman in 1800-something. I was engaged to a clock smith and I always dressed black and never smiled. My mother (who is my mom in this current life again) and my father arranged to me and my fiance a wedding day, but I ran away in a wedding dress before I got to the altar. While I loved my fiance, I didn’t want to marry him. The idea freaked me out and I couldn’t tell why. I cried my eyes out when mom and dad found me and apologized that everything had been arranged for me and all in vain; all the food, all the work, all the money they had used on me... My mom soothed me saying that “You know, it’s your uncle’s birthday so let’s celebrate it!” So we did. I sat depressed and sorry in the room where the food serving was hold while other were merry. My fiance tried to soothe me by sitting next to me and asking if I wanted to have cake. 

- I suspect I have been a man during Ice Age and gotten killed by a mammoth during a hunt, because mammoths freak me out big time. They make me feel super uneasy.

I might have forgotten some and there are lives I’m not aware of yet.As I’m past-live oracle, too, my past live readings are open for ordering (100 euro, detailed information of 3-4 lives. These above are just tiny glimpses, nothing like the orders are!) Drop me a note if you want the order! :3

#oracle stuff #past life #past lives #Anonymous #ask niu

[feckin-zicons]

Just Thinking of You

Fandom: Dunkirk (2017) Pairing: Collins/Farrier Words: 1k

AO3

"Come on then," Farrier said, and held his hand out to Finn, giving him that smirk that never failed to convince Collins into following his daft schemes.

He looked up at Farrier suspiciously, and asked, "what're you up to now, William Farrier?"

Farrier shrugged, and cocked his brow. "Well, you're never going to figure it out sat on your ass."

It was nearly twilight and Bing Crosby was crooning on the radio, singing ‘Pennies from Heaven' to the tired masses. Despite the war going on for several months already, the Royal Airfield Warmwell was quiet that night; a brief respite from the next battle, the next mission, the next fight that would pit them between killing or being killed. Collins and Farrier had taken out their deck of cards, a flask of bootleg rum, and a packet of cigarettes to what was quickly becoming known as their corner of the airfield. Unlike the other quiet corners they had found, this one wasn’t fully hidden from prying eyes. Just a couple of boxes in a shadowy corner between hangars three and four, that roughly made a table and several chairs. Farrier brought their tube radio with them that evening, as he did most, and tuned it to the nearest station that would take their mind off the war.

Just yesterday they received word that four of their mates didn't come back from a reconnaissance mission in Poland. The Nazi's were gaining more ground by the hour, their side unable to keep up with Hitler's armies.

"Your turn," Farrier's voice came shaking Collins out of the reverie he had fallen into.

"Sorry?" Collins responded, looking up to see Farrier smiling softly at him from across the table, face softly illuminated by the light they brought with them.

"I said your turn. Where did you go on me this time?" Farrier teased him, shaking the ash off his cigarette, and leaning in closer.

"Oi, off the box you lump! You're going de collapse dem again" Collins scolded, shooing Farrier back across the box to his side.

"Now, now darling," Farrier said, leaning back to his position against the wall, and spreading his legs provocatively. "That wasn't all my fault if I'm remembering correctly. Had you not given me that kiss just as the Marshall was walking by, I wouldn't have lost my balance."

"Sure" Collins responded, grabbing at the nearly empty flask in an attempt to hide the red flush working its way up his cheeks. So maybe it was his fault after all, not that he'd ever actually admit as such to Farrier; he was cocky enough being known as one of the RAF's best fliers. He had enough issues just calming Farrier down when he got another stupid idea in his head. Like the time he convinced him and several others to shuck off their clothes and go swimming in a freezing river on an unseasonably warm spring day; of course, it might have been so that Farrier had an excuse to accidentally grope him when no one was paying attention. Not that he didn't respond ten-fold in response of course.

Farrier frowned as he watched Collins stifle a sputter, whatever concoction Parrish traded him for twelve cigarettes wasn't fit for human consumption. It tasted of diesel and felt like thick burning oil going down. It was worse going back up. Rum wasn't meant to do that, but if terrible grog was the only thing Farrier could complain about these days he'd take it. "But I'm serious, my darling, where did you go on me?"

"Nothin', it's fine."

"Finley."

Collins sighed heavily, taking another swing from the flask. "S'just... O'Reilly was younger 'an me an' left behind a pretty young lass back home" he said, giving Farrier a meaningful look. "Guess I was just thinkin' 'bout what it might be like for 'er that's all."

Farrier caught his eye and gave him a measuring look and said, in his typically blunt manner, "War is hell".

Collins laughed at that and said "oh fuck off, and 'ere I thought you might've said something else 'fer a change"

"We'll it's true innit it?" Farrier responded, joining in with Collins. His own Estuary accent slipping through from the drinking, and spending time with his favourite person.

They quieted down as they heard voices coming past them. Collins quickly passed their ill gotten alcohol to Farrier, who hid it in the small space between his chair and the hangar wall, and picked up his cards, flicking away the butt of the cigarette he had forgotten about.

"Ey, Collins, Farrier," came the thickly accented teasing voice from one of the men. "I'm surprised yer still out 'ere Farrier. I'da figured you losing yer clothing to pay Collins back by now."

"Ramsey" Collins greeted, throwing the man a smile and a wave.

"Oh fuck off Ramsey, just because you can't gamble worth shite" Farrier yelled back incensed, straightening up in his chair.

"Like you can either mate! Collins, if you want an actual challenge you know where to find me" Ramsey called back, turning to finish his patrol.

Collins laughed, and said, "Ta mate, but Farrier's good enough fer me."

Farrier slumped back down against the wall and hissed out, "I fucking hate him".

"Don't be jealous love, I'm 'ere with you, yeah?"

"Not fucking jealous Finn, I just hate 'im."

"Yeah? Should I jus' call 'im back 'ere den?" Collins asked with a laugh.

Farrier slumped further down the wall and said, "only if you plan on taking everything he's worth". Making Collins laugh louder at his expense, but it didn't take long for Farrier to join him. Collins laughing would always be his favourite sound in the world.

They fell into companionable silence once more, when Fred Astaire started to croon on the radio, singing to Ginger Rogers 'Cheek to Cheek'. Noticing the faint smile on Collins' lips, Farrier got an idea. He stood up, brushed his cards to the side, and turned the dial on the radio louder.

"Come on then," Farrier said, and held his hand out to his Finn while giving him that smirk that never failed to convince the other man into following his daft schemes.

He looked up at Farrier suspiciously, and asked, "what're you up to now, William Farrier?"

Farrier shrugged and cocked his brow. "Well, you're never going to figure it out sat on your arse there. Come on, up."

Collins sat back for a beat -he wasn't a dog to be commanded- before he gave in, firmly grabbing hold of the hand Farrier extended to him. "Where to now Liam?" he asked with a teasing smile.

Farrier beamed back, and moved them several feet further into the shadows and said, "well I figured with the melancholy mood from earlier we need something to distract us."

"Melancholy mood? Did you mean Ramsey?" Collins teased.

Farrier snorted and turned to face Collins, "no, though God knows the man wouldn't exactly be out of place at a funeral. He always sounds as though he's got one foot already in the grave." Collins laughed, in agreement. "Now, as I was saying," Farrier continued. "I think that we should make the most of our little break from the war."

"Oh? Are you plannin' on havin' us strip to our skivvies an' run through de base again?"

"No, though, you should know by now I'll take every chance I can to get you out of your uniform. What I was thinking..."

"Yes?" asked Collins as he moved closer to Farrier, and let their lips to brush together ever so slightly.

"Hm?" mumbled Farrier, falling into the kiss.

"You had an idea," breathed Collins, as he broke their kiss, and looked up into Farrier's hazy gaze.

"Oh?" wondered Farrier "maybe this was my plan."

"I like this plan," Collins teasingly said, moving his arms around his Liam, and leaning into another kiss.

Clearing his throat Farrier teased with a smirk, "however, my darling, this wasn't my plan."

"Oh?" asked Collins, a bit miffed at being denied.

Noticing the small pout on his Finn's lips Farrier leaned down to give him another kiss before admitting, "No, but I was hoping it would lead to this." He pulled his love closer to him and wound one arm behind Finn's back, and with the other took one of his darlings hands into his.

"You wanna dance wid me, Liam?" Collins teased, eyes shining, and a bright red blush moving across his cheeks.

"Of course I want to dance with you, Finn," Farrier said, swaying them to the radio. "Calm night, clear sky, brilliant company, 'oh, and you're lovely, with your smile so warm, and your cheeks so soft. there is nothing for me but to love you, just the way you look tonight'."

When Farrier stopped singing along, Collins' face was flushed bright, his jaw hanging open adorably. "You never told me you could sing Liam!" he accused.

"I still can't" Farrier laughed, placing a kiss on Finn's crunched nose- cutting off whatever rebuttal he could think up.

Collins huffed in response but drew himself closer to Liam's warm body. "Fine, say wad you will, but you're lying."

Spinning slowly under the bright October moon, exchanging soft kisses, to the sounds of a sleepy Dorset country side, the radio, and his own Liam singing softly in his ear Collins whispers, "I love you."

"I love you too."

There is nothing for me but to love you And the way you look tonight

#Farrier #Collins #Dunkirk #collins x farrier #fanfic #mine #oh god its been so long since I posted anything #I'M SHAKING #dunkirk has taken over my soul #pilot babies

[imaginemycroftholmes]

Mycroft Submission Form

Name: Char

Nationality: English & Irish

Age (note that if you below 21 your scores may be lower until age of legality): 25

Personality Type: Happy go lucky, loyal, adventurous, quiet, optimistic, excitable, empathetic

Level of Education: Bachelor’s Degree in Chemistry

Best Subject: Sciences

Worst Subject: Physical education (hockey was a traumatic experience)

Favorite Subject: Languages and philosophy

5 Hobbies (if applicable): Travelling, dancing, cooking, climbing, singing

Favorite Genre of Music/Movies/Books: Folk-pop/comedy/mystery

Last song you listened to on repeat: ‘Shape of You’ by Ed Sheeran. It’s got a great beat for salsa, so we’ve been working out a routine. Lots of hip-work and spins!

Last phrase you said to another living person: “Cuppa?”

How many blankets do you sleep with: 2

7 note worthy skills: Perfumery (This is also my job – I own my own business), negotiating, problem-solving, very good listener, I’m creative and artistically minded, I’m a great cook and I’m very determined – it takes a lot to get me to give up on something.

7 noticeable sins: I can get very emotional, I’m a workaholic and take on too much to the point of burn out, I take failure badly, I’m reckless, I can be quite flirty, I have a very low pain threshold and I will ramble for ages on a topic and go off on all sorts of tangents in a stream of consciousness.

Allergies/impairments/illnesses: Terrible hayfever, serious claustrophobia

Level of Intelligence on a scale of 1 to 5 (1 being dumb, 2 being below average, 3 being average, 4 being above average and 5 being genius): 3 to 4, depending on the subject

Level of Fitness on a scale of 1 to 5( 1 being obese, 2 being overweight, 3 being average, 4 being fit and 5 being skinny): 4

Level of Attractiveness on a scale of 1 to 5 (1 being Anderson, 2 being below average, 3 being average, 4 being above average and 5 being Mycroft): 2 first thing in the morning, approaching 4 when dressed up, so let’s say 3.

Feline, canine or both: Canine

Confidence Level on a scale from 1 to 5 (1 being nonexistent, 2 low, 3 average, 4 above average and 5 Sherlock): 3

Position in the Family (oldest, youngest, middle): Middle (to be specific, the second of five siblings by 43 minutes)

Eye Color: Brown

Hair Color and Length: Blonde, just below my shoulders

Height: 5’2”

Combat level on a scale 1 to 5 (1 being useless, 2 being somewhat capable, 3 being average, 4 being more than capable and 5 being expert): 3.5

Your normal dress: For work it’s either a shift dress and heels or a white coat depending on whether I’m representing the company or in the lab at that time. At home it’s mostly soft, chunky knit cardigans in autumnal colours and thick socks.

How well you take rejection on a scale of 1 to 5 (1 being temper tantrum, 2 being vindictive, 3 being average, 4 being can take it like a man, and 5 being like water off of a duck’s back): 3. Of course I’ll be upset and I might need a bit of a cry and a tub of ice cream, but I’m pretty good at going through that part in private and getting over it after that. I can hardly blame someone else for not being interested in me, that’s not fair.

Languages known: English, French, Italian and some Irish. I can usually make myself understood (sort of) in other Romance and Germanic languages, but my attempts might get a few laughs. I want to venture beyond Europe next and teach myself some Mandarin or Hindi.

Cleanliness of your bathroom on a scale of 1 to 5 (1 being a crime scene, 2 being messy, 3 being average, 4 being pretty clean and 5 being perfectly spotless): 4.5. I hate a messy bathroom or kitchen, but they’re used daily so aren’t usually completely spotless!

How big is your circle of friends on a scale of 1 to 5 (1 being nonexistent, 2 being very small, 3 being average, 4 being large, and 5 being a massive social network): 2.5. I prefer to have a few very close friends.

How would you rate your mental health on a scale of 1 to 5 (1 being very poor, 2 being poor, 3 being average, 4 being good, and 5 being prefect): 4

Opinions on the current Holmes family members ( Siger Holmes, Violet Holmes, Sherlock Holmes and Eurus Holmes):

Oh boy.

Well, I have to admit that I have very little patience for the Holmes parents, particularly Violet. The combination of apparent neglect and disdain Violet shows towards her children, Mycroft in particular, is awful and while Siger appears to be a little kinder and easier to get on with, he is a very passive father.

As for the siblings, Eurus makes me very uneasy given her past actions and the fact that she doesn’t  appear to feel any remorse for them. Sherlock has a wonderfully kind heart and I admire his dedication.

Please bold the following below that applies toward your submission:

Friendship

Mentorship

Relationship

Partnership

The Question portion:

(I spent far too long on this and had way too much fun!)

 1) Stumbled upon while doodling and trying to avoid using trigonometry…

The base of the green triangle is twice the height. The same can be said for the blue triangle, so we know that B = D.

Obviously A + D = C, so that means that A + B = C too.

2) I’m going to have to give up on this one for now six numbers in. To be finished later!

3) July 16th

4) First of all, ‘truel’ is a wonderful word.

My first thought was that he should just run. By the rules of the problem, Mr Gray can’t shoot until Mr Black has, so if Mr Black never shoots, he can’t be shot at. Not in the real world! That did lead me to think Mr Black should miss deliberately though. Mr Gray will shoot at Mr White and vice versa as they are each other’s biggest threat and one of them will definitely die, leaving only one opponent for Mr Black.

5) First answer: 5 + 5 + 5 + 5 ≠ 555

More satisfying answer after actually thinking (for a while): 5 + 5 + 545 = 555

6) A very Mycroftian question. As he might say, the usefulness of a good brolly should never be underestimated, particularly for those who may lack a little in the height department.

7) Turn the Switch 1 on and wait a few minutes. Turn it off and turn Switch 2 on. Go into the room. The bulb connected to Switch 2 is on. Feel the other two. The bulb connected to Switch 1 will be off, but warm. The bulb connected to Switch 3 will be off and cold.

8) Pass. I think I might be grappling with this one for a while…

9) John locks the package with a padlock and sends it to Mary, who can’t open it. She adds a padlock and sends it back. John removes his own padlock and returns the package to Mary, who can unlock her padlock and open the package.

10) 87

11) The one who owns the fish tank. (This one stumped me.)

12) Burrowing underground. (I don’t usually recommend strategic arson, but that could be another solution.)

13) Yes

14) 679 was the smallest I found after spending a long time on it, but I doubt that’s the smallest that exists.

15) 50

16)

P(two orange) = 1/3 = (6/n) x (5/(n-1))

1/3 = 30/(n(n-1))

1 = 90/(n(n-1))

n(n-1) = 90

n^2 – n = 90

n^2 – n – 90 = 0

17) Vince

18) Where does the English horn (Cor Anglais) come from? Poland (This was one of the odd little facts my school orchestra conductor’s liked to throw out now and then, along with titbits about Mozart’s filthy sense of humour.)

19) What is brass composed of? Copper and zinc

20) Who was the FIRST great artist that contributed to the Italian Renaissance? A couple of great artists come to mind, but I’m pretty sure they were a bit later into the Renaissance, so I’m going guess Botticelli.

21) I’m going to have to pass on this one!

22) 12

23) 2

24) White and gold?

25) This has an odd solution, as you will know. At first it looks wholly ordinary, but it is not and you will find that this short paragraph is similar. For a bit of clarity as to what is so curious about it, just think about what is common in most writing.

Mycroft’s answer:

I must say that I am impressed Char (or perhaps its short for Charlene but nevertheless a very striking one) with your application. You own your own business, have a degree in Chemistry, and answer a great deal of the questions with more accuracy than I have seen thus far. Bravo. Also I find it refreshing that you have such an upbeat attitude toward things including misgivings but still maintain a professional state given circumstances. Its a very desirable trait to see things from more than one perspective and even more so to find someone that wishes to continue to learn despite their success. Your work ethic is admirable regardless of those potential 'burnouts' as most of today's workforce tend to be a bit lazy however I hardly see your gift for babble as a bad thing as many of my potential partners both in and out of business  seem to run out of things to say. I look forward to our first meeting and hope that you will bring enough stories to keep us both entertained well through the second date.

Friendship: 10/10

Mentorship: 10/10

Relationship: 8/10

Partnership: 9/10

#Mycroft form 2.0 #submission #mycroft holmes

[paler-than-thou]

a’ight so

you just want

everything

welp

here we go (under a read more to save dashes)

1. Do you ever doubt the existence of others than you? In the real sense or in the alien/gods/etc sense? XD Nah, I’m aware there’s things other than humans to this world. I don’t doubt, because hell, I know.

2. On a scale of 1-5, how afraid of the dark are you? I’d say about a 2, headed into 4-5 depending on mood, people I’m with and if I’m in an unfamiliar place.

3. The person you would never want to meet? I don’t really know? Can’t think of any one person, tbh. There’s plenty I’d hate (like Trump etc) but yeah...

4. What is your favorite word? Oh fuck, I don’t know. It’s more of a phrase but ‘Damn straight’ I guess? There’s a few I like the sound/feel of saying, and a lot of Polish I like (’przyjaciel’ being no 1 for sound and meaning) but yeah.

5. If you were a type of tree, what would you be? Uh. Prehistoric and smelly.

6. When you looked in the mirror this morning what was the first thing you thought? Good god why.

7. What shirt are you wearing? Nada, clothes are for heretics.

8. What do you label yourself as? Different and weird. But I think this might mean more sexuality-wise? I’m an quoiromantic asexual transman with a beard and I’m not afraid to use it.

9. Bright room or dark room? Dark room, every time. Prefer low lights.

10. What were you doing at midnight last night? Playing Doom and cackling.

11. Favorite age you’ve been so far? This age, until I’m the next one.

12. Who told you they loved you last? @koto056 by a narrow margin ^^

13. Your worst enemy? Myself, honestly.

14. What is your current desktop picture? Hah, I go to take a screenshot and welp, story time. I have a two-screen setup, one smaller than the other, and the one on the left is uh...when I first came on the internet as a wee artist I didn’t really know/care about tracing/editing other people’s work. I found one I liked of @anndr‘s pieces and edited it without permission, and I have never put it up for people to see because it was a shit thing to do. I keep it as a reminder of not to be a shitheel and because it was done so I could better visualise a character, and I never will either, so yeah. No desktop pic here.

15. Do you like someone? Well, I got two partners, so I assume so.

16. The last song you listened to? Twenty One Pilots - Heathens

17. You can press a button that will make any one person explode. Who would you blow up? There are too many people for this one to be answered. ¬¬

18. Who would you really like to just punch in the face? Again, too many people. 

19. If anyone could be your slave for a day, who would it be and what would they have to do? Nooooot comfortable with this question (though @koto056 will probably know the first thing that came to mind)

20. What is your best physical attribute? (showing said attribute is optional) I’d say my eyes. I mean

look at this cute motherfucker

21. If you were the opposite sex for one day, what would you look like and what would you do? Loaded question. Honestly, I’d cry and then hide until the day was over.

22. Do you have a secret talent? If yes, what is it? I dunno, possibly to be as annoying as humanely possible? Heh, that’s the shitty inner voice talking. I guess the fact I can make people smile no matter what and feel genuinely cared for?

23. What is one unique thing you’re afraid of? I’m not sure I have unique fears. Heights, claustrophobia, arachnophobia, eye stuff, dentists...

24. You can only have one kind of sandwich. Every sandwich ingredient known to humankind is at your disposal. I’ll make it in a minute.

25. You just found $100! How are you going to spend it? Art supplies or straight to bank for MCM monies.

26. You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere in the world, but you have to leave immediately. Where are you going to go? Ireland, maybe Poland, not sure.

27. An angel appears out of Heaven and offers you a lifetime supply of the alcoholic beverage of your choice. “Be brand-specific” it says. Man! What are you gonna say about that? Even if you don’t drink booze there’s something you can figure out… so what’s it gonna be? Well, I can’t drink thanks to my pills, so I’d probably just ask for tea as it’s brewed. :3

28. You discover a beautiful island upon which you may build your own society. You make the rules. What is the first rule you put into place? Don’t Be A Dick.

29. What is your favorite expletive? Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.

30. Your house is on fire, holy shit! You have just enough time to run in there and grab ONE inanimate object. Don’t worry, your loved ones and pets have already made it out safely. So what’s the one thing you’re going to save from that blazing inferno? My computer. That shit cost nearly £2k, I am not letting it burn.

31. You can erase any horrible experience from your past. What will it be? Loaded question there. Honestly, I wouldn’t erase the years of abuse and bullshit because it’d be erasing a fundamental part of my development into this wonderful human being I can stand to be now. But if I could do so without it affecting me? Yeah, that’s a no-brainer.

32. You got kicked out of the country for being a time-traveling heathen who sleeps with celebrities and has super-powers. But check out this cool shit… you can move to anywhere else in the world! Ireland 8D

33. The Celestial Gates Of Beyond have opened, much to your surprise because you didn’t think such a thing existed. Death appears. As it turns out, Death is actually a pretty cool entity, and happens to be in a fantastic mood. Death offers to return the friend/family-member/person/etc. of your choice to the living world. Who will you bring back? Yeah, no. I wouldn’t. I mean there’s plenty about the whole ‘gone too soon’ but...no, I wouldn’t.

34. What was your last dream about? Nothing good 8D woo for nightmares and flashbacks huh.

35. Are you a good….[insert anything you’d like here]? I dunno, am I?

36. Have you ever been admitted to the hospital? Yuuuup. More times than I’d like. Latest was this January after having an internal stitch go necrotic and cause me to lose 2 pints+ of blood.

37. Have you ever built a snowman? Once ^^

38. What is the color of your socks? Bare Naked Beans

39. What type of music do you like? Anything that isn’t obnoxious to my ears, mostly things with good bass/beats as I can hear them a bit better.

40. Do you prefer sunrises or sunsets? Both are just as beautiful.

41. What is your favorite milkshake flavor? Banananananananananana.

42. What football team do you support? (I will answer in terms of American football as well as soccer) Hand Egg and Leg Ball bores me to tears so...none.

43. Do you have any scars? Too many.

44. What do you want to be when you graduate? Well, I ain’t in college/uni so...

45. If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be? The chronic pain.

46. Are you reliable? Depends on how. In communication/getting shit done? Probably not. In being there when needed? Absolutely.

47. If you could ask your future self one question, what would it be? Lottery numbers.

48. Do you hold grudges? Nah. Too much energy. I get angry, it burns out, I let it go.

49. If you could breed two animals together to defy the laws of nature, what new animal would you create? Snekbirb!

50. What is the most unusual conversation you’ve ever had? Holy shit, what sort of question is this? So many holy fuck

51. Are you a good liar? Yup. Incredibly so. At one point I was almost pathological - lying even when I didn’t need to - though now it comes out rarely as embellishing. Means I’m a great storyteller, but I used to be very manipulative/unknowingly gaslighty with it. Thankfully I grew out of it and got better.

52. How long could you go without talking? Hours, really. I sit with the fiancee for a long time without really saying anything other than the odd request for tea. Other than that? Yeah, I talk for days.

53. What has been you worst haircut/style? Buzzcut. I don’t suit it.

54. Have you ever baked your own cake? Yup, with varying degrees of success XD

55. Can you do any accents other than your own? Plenty.

56. What do you like on your toast? Honey, jam, peanut butter, fish...

57. What is the last thing you drew a picture of? A wolf! With wings! On fire!

58. What would be you dream car? Chauffeur-driven.

59. Do you sing in the shower? Or do anything unusual in the shower? Explain. Sing, talk to myself, act out rps/conversations...

60. Do you believe in aliens? It’s a statistical impossibility that we’re alone, but also very very fucking unlikely we’ll ever be contacted simply through sheer numbers.

61. Do you often read your horoscope? If only to laugh at it/swear at the fact I’m a fucking typical Scorpio yeah...

62. What is your favorite letter of the alphabet? ...Whut. Um. Well. I don’t know? X maybe?

63. Which is cooler: dinosaurs or dragons? Oh come on, dragons.

64. What do you think about babies? Nice. Soft. Good smell, unless not. Squidge.

65. Freebie! Ask anything interesting you can think of.  No one put in a q for this so...w/e 8D

#more than you ever wanted to know about me