#I thought I should go with a post where he thinks in German

[chevvy-ryder]

[NC_RES]-31102049-EUR-GER scharfenberg_g_portraits_030_HW.file ///core:_ryder_von_scharfenberg.file\\\

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⚠️ READ: Please do not repost/reupload any of my art here or to any other platform, or I will be forced to do anything to get it annihilated.

Paul Night Suit by @breezypunk.

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I hc that Ryder often still thinks in German when he doesn't have to respond to anyone. After all it is his first language. So here he is, Ryder having to attend a corpo event because of a job and he's bored and the people are annoying. He went to a quieter space a bit afar from the main gala and watches from there. Sadly they do not serve any beer at all. It's full of champagner but beer? what is that?

another under the cut.

[ccccatttta]

hello ladies and gentlemen, i am here to show my marauders fancasts. this post will be long as fuck im afraid, but i have stuff to say. cheers!

james potter as michael cimino

PAPIIIIIRRHAWWWRWWGRA i mean ha. he's cute. mi gente latino

regulus black as choi beomgyu (txt)

my baby star candy, my sunshine, my everything. also! his voice is one of the prettiest things on earth and i totally think regulus would sing like that

sirius black as hwang hyunjin (stray kids)

he's so androgynous,,,, like if a man and a woman had a baby.

remus lupin as esteban kukurickza (actor)

these low quality ahh photos, this man is hard to catch fr. he IS remus lupin you can't change my mind on this + the actor knows we see him as remus and embraces it, god bless you kuku esteban

peter pettigrew as cooper hoffman (actor)

you guys have no idea how much my peter fc changes, it used to be lewis capaldi but i think i have finally managed to find the one for me.

lily evans as chapell roan (soloist)

she's unreal, she's the moment, she's everything. nobody other than her could be the icon lily evans is

pandora lovegood/rosier as namephyra on ig (model)

i say lovegood/rosier bc i like the hc where she's evan's twin, but at the same time i also like when she's a lovegood or a lestrange. elle fanning used to be my fc for sooo long (and i still kinda see it) but she has all the vibes i picture in pandora, and she's honestly so pretty i wanna cry

dorcas meadowes as nia sondaya (actress)

LOOK AT HER OH MY GOD LOOK AT HER, it took me so long to find someone who gives me dorcas vibes, like my girl isn't easy to find, but nia has this aura about her and it was love at first sight

marlene mckinnon as beabadoobee (soloist)

this is one of the og's (or it was when i came to the fandom) and till this day i can't picture anyone else, she's put a spell on me or something

mary mcdonald as bcsais_ (ig)

i don't know much about her, but every time i see another mirror selfie my heart stops for a bit, and that's the only way mary mcdonald should be perceived

evan rosier as casper von bülow (actor)

i know a great chunk of the fandom hcs evan (and dora too) as poc, and i totally see it too, however this little german boy.... oh the grip he has on me is out of this world, it also has to do with the fact he's on germany's skam (druck) and that immediately means i'm emotionally attached

barty crouch jr. as hayden (ig) or marlon noah (ig)

this is a tricky one, they are both so different but they feel like barty to me. lately i've been using hayden more but i do think marlon can make a comeback any of these days.

[extra] the black sisters <333

andromeda black as hwang yeji (itzy)

it's not a coincidence i chose yeji for andromeda and hyunjin for sirius (if u don't know, these two are by no means related in real life but they look so much alike and they even share the same last name, so they could be lost siblings). i do think that andy and sirius looked alike and that's what made them even more fond of each other, the fcs were sent by the gods themselves

bellatrix black as kim hyeong seo (bibi ; soloist)

i support women's rights and i support women's wrongs. hate her or love her, bellatrix has always been THAT girl and bibi is also THAT girl

narcissa black as kim minjeong (winter ; aespa)

i do believe that winter looks a bit similar to beomgyu and i do believe that narcissa looked similar to regulus, it's the genes guys, they are strong. she's so gorgeous i wanna sob in my hands till i die

these are all my fcs!, i haven't really thought about any other characters for now, these are my main guys and pretty much the only ones i read about.

this was exhausting lord, imma go take a nap, toodles!!!

[sunshine-and-moonshine]

Did it hurt?

Requested: Yes [Can I please please please get König with a very flirty reader? Like, big boy is blushing all over but still flirting back like he's got nothing to lose, getting close and showing off those muscles like nobody's business. Until reader tells him that if he's planning on sleeping in his own bed he better shut up, and he just grins wildly and keeps going. Please, I'm willing to beg]

Warnings: None

A/N: Yes, hello, I know I’ve been quiet for a while now. Between health problems, hyper fixations, and the death of a cat I loved dearly, let’s just say I’ve been having a tough time lately. But I’m back! Hopefully I’ll get back to regularly posting soon.

Pretty.

It had all started by you calling him pretty. It was meant to be joking, as you had never actually seen his face, but that genuinely surprised and bashful look in his eyes prevented you from taking it back. His hands fidgeting in front of him as you tried to find the words to apologize for perhaps making him uncomfortable or awkward when he suddenly spoke.

“Tat es weh, als du vom Himmel gefallen bist?” He asked in his native tongue, scratching at his cheek through the thick fabric of his mask, his eyes meeting yours, and you could just barely make out the fact that his pupils were blown wide when he looked at you.

“What?” You asked dumbly. Even if ypu understood German, you were too dumbfounded by his sudden words that you didn’t even understand what he said.

“Tat es weh, als du vom Himmel gefallen bist?” He asks again, leaning in, invading your personal space so he could get a closer look at your eyes. “Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?”

A shocked laugh left you, but you regretted it when you saw his head lower a bit, averting his eyes from your face. He thought you were laughing at him.

“Sorry, but I crawled my way up from hell.” You tell him, giving a wink when he seems to straighten, his body signaling that he’s nervous yet excited as he fidgets with his thick gloves, picking at the frayed seams of them.

“Explains why you’re so hot.” He says, his voice dropping a few octaves, a pleasant rumble in your ears. “Speaking of heat, is it hot in here or is it just you?”

That one earned him another chuckle and you could tell he was smiling now by the way the creases around his eyes crinkled, almost making it look like he was squinting.

“I think it’s actually just you.” You tell him, boldly poking the center of his chest, not expecting him to scoop up your hand with his own, gently cradling it as he brings it up to where his lips should be, kissing your knuckles through the fabric of his mask.

“No, it’s definitely you.” He says, pleased by the way you start to crumble at the edges, becoming a bit flustered by his words. It was all so cheesy but…..you kinda liked it when it was coming from him.

“Listen here, big guy. If you’re planning on sleeping alone tonight then you better stop now.” You playfully warn, feeling a shiver run down your spine at the way his eyes widen and narrow, a determination setting in them as he reaches out to brush his hand along yours, linking your pinkies on top of the bar.

“It’s cold out tonight, maybe we should huddle together to keep warm.” He practically purrs, leaning in closer, amused when you push at his face, then tug him outside by the hood of his jacket.

[judesmoonbeauty]

Only Look At Me CE: Nica Schwartz

*Nica is calling Kate “robin” in German. Hence, each time he uses German, I will use quotation marks to denote that going forward in the story.

** Nica is calling Kate (robin) in English for this specific line. In other words, he is using the normal (komadori).

***The translation says "opposite" of him, but context suggests Kate is sitting next to him. That's how I interpreted it anyway.

This is a fan translation only. Not 100% accurate, so please expect grammatical errors. Cybird owns everything. Re-blogs are appreciated, but please do not post my translations elsewhere. Dividers: @/adornedwithlight. Thank you for your support! ☾.

On my way home from submitting my report, I was stopped by an unexpected person.

Nica: Hey there, Miss.

One of the Vogel twins stood in front of me.

Kate: Is something wrong?

Nica: Actually, I got lost, would you mind showing me around?

As I nodded in surprise, his almond-shaped eyes narrowed.

Nica: Thanks. 

Kate: No problem, so where are you headed?

Nica: The chambers we’re staying in, you know the way right?

Kate: Of course, it’s this way!

I pointed down the hallway and started walking, with him chuckling as he followed from behind.

Nica: Meeting you here, seems like I’ve still got it. 

(I’m little wary because of what Harrison said.)

(He’s easy to talk and doesn’t seem like a bad person.)

Even though I know they’re lying somehow, I still don’t know if it’s a bad lie.

(It’s not good to judge someone before you know them.)

We arrived in no time as I walked and thought this.

Nica: Thank you for your help, “Robin.”*

Kate: “Robin”?

Nica: It means “Robin” in German.

Nica: Doesn’t Crown call you, robin?**

Nica: Hence, “robin”.

He sat down and looked at the empty seat opposite to him.***

Nica: Won’t you have a seat?

Kate: Huh?

Nica: Let’s have a chat while you’re here. I’d like to ask you about work and other things.

Despite my being nervous that we were alone, he propped his chin on his hand.

Nica: Besides, I’m interested in you.

Even though he was smiling, his eyes pierced me like someone who’d caught his prey.

As I slowly sat down, he smiled in satisfaction while calling a maid for some tea.

Nica: Well then, should I introduce myself again?

Kate: Oh, please do.

Nica: I’m Nica Schwartz, the staff officer of Vogel, an organization under the direct command of the Emperor of Germany. 

Kate: What exactly does a staff officer do?

Nica: I gather information, and support Dari in various ways by using my brains.

Nica: Details are a confidential.

Nica: Oh, by the way. You can call me Nica. There’s no need to call me ‘Mister’.

Kate: Okay then, Nica.

His smile deepened as I called his name, and then he pointed at me.

Nica: Right, now it’s your turn.

Kate: I’m Kate, a Fairytale Keeper. There’s several reasons why I got this job, but I used to work as a postwoman.

Nica: Hmm, then you’re well-informed about the roadways?

Kate: That’s right! We delivered all over London, so I could even guide you.

Nica: That’s great, next time I’ll ask you to show me around the city.

His words interrupted me as I reached for my teacup.

Nica: What kinds of things do you do as a Fairytale Keeper?

Kate: My job entails accompanying Crown activities and recording what happens.

(In reality, there’s a lot more to it than that…..)

I don’t want to say anymore than that because I don’t think it’s a good idea to talk in detail.

Nica: But you’re just an ordinary person aren’t you? Isn’t it dangerous?

Kate: The Crown members have promised to protect me.

Nica: Really….

He seemed to be thinking about something while listening to me speak, which made me feel a bit uncomfortable, but that feeling disappeared when his expression suddenly brightened.

Nica: You’re the verrry cute “robin” of Crown.

Nica: You’re cherished.

Kate: That’s n….

(It’s true that they treat me with respect but……)

It all started only because I witnessed them conquering evil with evil,

(I desperately didn’t want to die, which led me to where I am now.)

If I hadn’t said anything then, I might not be in this world now.

Nica: Dari probably wouldn’t like it, but it might be fun if Vogel had a Fairytale Keeper back home.

Nica: Oh, but Ring wouldn’t do well.

Kate: Wouldn’t do well?

Nica: Ring’s my twin brother, but unlike me, he’s doesn’t socialize with others too well.

(It’s true, the first time we met, he gave off a cold impression….)

While I was thinking of our first encounter, Nica looked into my face.

Nica: What, are you curious about Ring?

Kate: No, that’s not it…..

Nica: My - that’s. Don’t do that.

He put his finger to my lips, and he smiled with extreme charm. 

Then we talked about trivial everyday life, and before I knew it, the sky had turned deep red.

(It’s already that time….)

When he looked at the clock, his eyes widened in exaggeration.

Nica: Wow, it’s already this late. I guess it’s time to part ways.

Kate: Well, it’s was nice chatting with you.

Nica: Same here, let’s do it again.

I stood up, thanked him for opening the door, and was about to leave the room.

Kate: What?

He grabs a lock of my hair and places his lips upon its tips.

Nica: Until next time.

Even when my lips parted I was speechless.

Nica: Oh, did you forget your way home? 

Or do you want to stay locked up with me and not go home?

His inciting tone made me realize that I had been taken lightly.

(For Nica, this conversation was a wait-and-see thing, and if he got serious -)

-Then he could easily steal my heart.

Kate: Please, excuse me.

With my cheeks suddenly becoming hot, I started to run not caring if there were other people around.

Nica: Bis Dann (Later), “Robin”.

Before my heart is stolen by him.

As I lay on the sofa, my younger brother entered with a gaunt face.

Nica: What is it, did you get lost again?

Ring: Yeah….it’s so large that I couldn’t tell where I was.

Ring sat on a chair and sighed.

Ring: I wish I could memorize the layouts of buildings as quickly as you do Nica……

I laugh at his words.

Nica: It’s possible to get lost on “purpose.”

Tag List: @theimaginativelyreticent @sapphire-323 @sh0jun @letter-from-afar

Dividers: @/natimiles [Master List]

Can't wait to tear this MF up /aff. GIMME!

[salford-blues]

The origins

A/n: It's been a couple weeks since I last wrote anything. I've been really busy and I'm burnt out :( Also this is my first proper written fic. I've mainly posted SMAU's, so if it's not good... I'm sorry. Would love to hear your critiques etc! Pairing: f1 x driver!reader Summary: The origins of our driver!reader - snippets of her growing up Warnings: butchered german??? Italics are the thoughts!

2008 - 5 years old

GROSSER PREIS SANTANDER VON DEUTSCHLAND 2008

The stands were crowded with energetic fans waiting for their favourite drivers to come out. Roars of laughter between friends and families. Piercing screams of devoted fans. In the middle of it all, a 5-year-old girl wrapped in the arms of her father with her hands over her ears trying to block out the deafening noise.

''It's too loud Papi. When's it home time?'' the girl pouted.

''Not just yet Spatzi (little sparrow). The drivers should be out any minute now.'' her father sighed. The child frowned and buried her head into his shoulder and neck.

Instantaneously, the crowd began to yell. Names were shrieked left, right, and centre. People pushing and shoving trying to get a picture or an autograph with their favourite driver. Luckily, the child and her father had managed to make it to the front without too much effort. They now had a perfect view of the track.

One by one the cars came out of the paddocks and lined up at the starting line.

''Who do you like Papi?'' the girl questioned, intrigued by the cars and their colours.

''I like Williams, do you see the navy blue and white car over there?'' her father pointed towards the middle of the grid.

''Uhhuh,'' she nodded, eyes lighting up at the car.

''That's the one that I really like. Which one do you like Schatz (treasure)?'' he questioned the child.

''Hmmm, I liikkeee... I think I like Williams too! Just like you Papi. I think I like the red car too.'' the girl's eyes shone as she spoke. Excitement now lacing her voice. There was a look of adoration on her father's face. Oh, how he loved his little bundle of joy.

''You can like whoever you want. The red car is a Ferrari.'' her father exclaimed.

''F-Fir-aa-r-ee? Ferrari! Yeah, I like that one too, but that one goes second!'' she said adamantly.

Suddenly, the cars were off, speeding down the track.

There was a glisten in the youngster's eyes. The screaming of the crowd was long forgotten. All she could hear was the vrooming of the cars. Wow, they're really fast. I want to do that.

''I want to be a race car driver when I'm older Papi! I'm gonna go really fast like vrrrrooomm." she held out her hands and acted as if she was driving a car.

2009 - 6 years old

''Alles Gute zum Geburtstag, Spatzi! (Happy Birthday, little sparrow!)''

The young girl stirred in her bed.

''Wakey wakey sleepy head... you don't want to miss out on opening presents do you.''

At that comment, the girl shot up in bed. Her wide eyes glanced up at her father, excitement running through her body.

''Please can I have waffles for breakfast? Can we go see Oma? Can we see Mami? Oooh can we make those doughnuts with the sugar on top for dessert? Plleeaassee?'' she gave her father her best puppy dog eyes.

''Okay, okay. How about we open your presents first and then see where the day takes us? How does that sound?'' her father queried.

A swift nod of the head gave her father all the conformation he needed and with that, he scooped her up into his arms and carried her down into the living room. The room was decorated with brightly coloured banners, balloons stuck to the wall via sellotape and streamers hung from the ceiling. On the living room table, 6 presents stood tall and were screaming to be opened by a certain birthday girl.

Once set down on the ground, the birthday girl ran over to the presents. She picked the first one up, inspecting its size before placing it down and ripping open the wrapping paper. Inside a box of Lego with an image of a Ferrari. The girl giggled with excitement moving on to her next present.

The small child was down to her last two presents. Both were small and sat on the corner of the table. Small hands picked up the thin present that sat on top, tearing open the wrapping paper. A signed driver's card sat inside. Shock spread across the young girl's face. A signed piece by Kimi Raikkonen. This just might be the best present ever!

''Oh wooooow! Danke Papi! This is the best present ever.'' She ran over wrapping her small arms around the man's neck.

''You're very welcome. But how about opening up your last one.'' he smiled at her.

She curiously looked back and took the present into her arms. The present was squishy under her touch. Possibly clothes? Carefully, the wrappers ripped open. A blue and white race suit sat inside.

''Do you like it, Schatz?''

''I love it! I love it! I love it!'' the girl twirled around with the race suit in hand.

2015 - 11 years old

''Hallo Logan!'' The girl ran up to the young lad. ''Do you want to get ice cream after the race? I'll ask Oscar if he wants to come too."

The blonde boy nodded his head and smiled. ''Yeah, I'd like that.''

''Okay, bye Logan.'' The girl waved before heading in the direction of her Aussie friend.

''Hallo Oscar! Do you want to come and get ice cream after the race with me and Logan?''

''Sure. Let me ask my parents.'' He ran off towards his parents.

Alone she stood listening to her surroundings. Loud chatter coming from children and parents. Birds chirping in the trees.

Hearing the latter she skipped towards the trees before noticing a small bird hopping around. Approaching the bird slowly, she scooped the animal into her hands and held it against her chest.

''I will help you little birdie! Papi, Papi look what I found. Can we help it get better?''

''Sure, we'll take it home with us.'' he smiled.

Strolling over were Oscar and Logan.

''What'cha got there N/n?'' Logan asked curiously.

''It's a bird... We're gonna take it home and look after it.'' She exclaimed.

''We are still up for ice cream though aren't we Birdie?'' Oscar peered a the girl.

''Of course we are Osc... birdie?? Why that??''

''Oh y'know... you've got a bird in your hand, so your new nickname is birdie,'' he uttered as if it was obvious.

''Ahh okie.'' A blush spread across her cheeks in embarrassment.

A whilst blew signalling that the race was about to begin.

''Papi, will you take care of it whilst I race?'' She turned back.

''Of course I will Spatzi. Now run along. The quicker you go the quicker you can get ice cream.''

yourusername

landonorris, georgerussell63, liamlawson30 & others liked

Ice cream dates just like old times. @oscarpiastri @logansargeant

View all comments

oscarpiastri Birdie delete this. This makes it out like we're all dating

> yourusername WAIT... WE ARENT????

>> logansargeant now look what you've done, you've made her cry...

>>> oscarpiastri We're not dating though???

user.1 why is Logan acting like a third wheel??

user.2 are they dating though? or is it two of them and then the third just tags along?

> user.3 I think they're just really weird friends

>> user.2 yhhh checks out

liamlawson30 annnd where was my invite?

> yourusername you weren't invited because you beat me at connect 4

>> user4 lmaaooo. Didn't realise y/n was a sore loser

>>> liamlawson30 you should see her when she plays monopoly

[sansaorgana]

I had an idea earlier about buck x reader, where after buck and the other 2 escaped and left bucky behind in part 9, they stumble upon a house near the forest (after the german kid soliders attacked them).

The reader lives there and she basically helps them hiding for a bit and also returning to the english base. She is against the war (which is the reason she helps them) and maybe a little angst where buck needs to protect her at the base bc she is still a german citizen.

What do you think?

hi! thank you for your request! 💞 honestly, I think it's the first 100% angst piece I have written for Buck because even the ones with sad events that I have posted so far had happy endings... but not this one 😅 since I have already written a similar fic and didn't want to repeat the same ending... I couldn't think of anything else how they could have their happily ever after 😪 I hope you can forgive me 💔

I had to currently close the requests because I got so many so I'm working on them atm 🙏🏻

In the heart of the enemy’s territory, he felt like a chased wild animal. Even though he was still human enough not to pull a trigger at a brainwashed German kid, Buck Cleven felt like a prey with nothing but survival on his mind. The forest was dark, muddy and unfriendly. A never ending maze with predators hiding all around. A thought of his dead friend and a thought of Bucky left behind were what kept him sane. The sun was going down slowly and he had no idea where to go. His other friend, Bill, was right behind him.

“Buck,” he hissed and waved his hand to make them both freeze in place. “There’s a house,” he pointed at the dark and old building by the country road behind the trees. “We’re close to town.”

“The lights are off. Maybe it’s inhabited,” Buck pointed out. “If it’s the case, we can find some supplies there.”

“Shall I go and check?” Bill asked.

“No, I will go,” Buck nodded and clutched on the gun in his hand hidden under the coat.

He walked carefully and slowly, making sure not to make too much noise, with his back hunched and breath steady. His blue eyes scanned the garden behind the house. It had herbs growing there but it was messy and the windows were dirty. Everything looked as if it was abandoned.

Encouraged by the looks of it, Buck walked to the front of the house and tried to push the door open but they were locked. However, the door was wooden and old, all it took was another, stronger push to open them wide with a loud squeak that made him wince.

He waited for a while to make sure there were no footsteps approaching him but when he heard nothing but silence, he entered the house and walked around curiously as the last rays of the sun going down lit the walls and the pictures hung on them. There were mostly family portraits and religious images – everything cosy and very cottage-like. There was only one portrait of a young soldier in a Wehrmacht uniform but his face was so friendly and sad that Buck didn’t even feel any hatred looking at it.

Focused on the picture, he lost his focus for a while. And then he heard a small noise and turned around with widened eyes as he spotted a young, scared woman in the corner of the room. She had a gun, too. Her hands were shaking and her pupils were huge out of fear but she was pointing the gun at him. He didn’t know if he should raise his hands and give up or point the gun at her in return – it was very doubtful she would actually pull the trigger.

He trusted no one. When he took a small step ahead to test her, she startled but she didn’t unload the pistol. So he pointed his own weapon at her and in that moment she dropped her gun and lifted her hands up while sobbing.

“P-Please, no,” she pleaded in English. “Please, don’t kill me,” her whispers were broken and shaky and Buck felt bad for her. Did she live in that house? 

“Do you live here alone?” He asked, trying not to sound too nice. She nodded. “How so?”

“I lived here with my brother and my papa,” she explained and pointed her finger at the portrait on the wall carefully. “They took my brother away. In the beginning of the war. He didn’t come back. My papa, he was old now. But they took him too a few weeks ago. Because they need more men,” she was looking for the right words with her limited vocabulary.

“How do you know English?” Buck raised an eyebrow at her.

“Papa taught us. He was a soldier in the last war. He met the English and the Americans. He was a captive,” she explained and sniffled her tears. “Please, don’t kill me,” she begged once more and Buck felt stupid for still pointing his gun at her. He lowered his hand and she sighed out of relief.

“Do you need help?” He asked. Something about her and the state of this house made him forget about his own tragic situation at the moment. She was a young woman left alone in the middle of nowhere in a country that was on the verge of losing the war. It was not safe for her and she looked weakened as if she had not had any proper meal in a long while.

“Do you?” She asked.

“Me and my friend… He’s inside the forest… We ran away from the camp, too. We are American pilots. We need to get to the American soldiers. Do you know where we can find them?” Buck asked.

“They are in town,” the girl nodded. “I can take you to them tomorrow,” she offered.

“Why not now?”

“Because it’s dark already. And you need rest,” she pointed out. Buck squinted his eyes at her. “I don’t have a phone here. And German police are not here anymore. You are safe,” she assured him. “Tell your friend to come here,” the girl crouched down and picked up her gun again. Buck clutched on his but she hid hers into the pocket of her patched dress. “It’s not loaded,” she revealed to him with a sad smile. “I lost all my bullets two weeks ago when a few strange men came here and I had to scare them off.”

Buck nodded and slowly walked out of the house. He still was not sure if she was trustworthy but he craved nothing but rest. He came back for Bill and told him about the situation they had found themselves in.

“I’m not sure, Buck,” he shook his head. “Listen, what if I go there and scare her, steal some food and we run to that town on our own?” He proposed.

Buck understood where his friend was coming from. And he did not judge him. However, he did not agree to his plan.

“No,” he only said. “It’s just a girl.”

“They’re all just girls and boys. Like the kids back there in the forest,” Bill reminded him.

“I know. But she’s not like them.”

“How do you know that?” Bill requested an explanation.

“I just know,” was all Buck could say as he nodded at his friend to follow him.

Reluctantly, Bill went to the house after Buck. The girl was sitting by the round kitchen table and lighting a few candles. She looked up, giving them a doe-eyed look.

“I don’t have electricity here anymore,” she confessed. “But the candles are fine,” she added. “Here, I collected some of my brother’s and papa’s clothes for you to change. When I take you to town tomorrow, I don’t want anyone to know who you are. In the forest… There are a lot of people you can’t trust,” she explained.

“And you?” Bill asked, still not convinced. “Why can we trust you?”

“You have to,” she looked at him and then she turned around to point at the kitchen cabinet. “I don’t have much food left. And the fridge doesn’t work without electricity. I have some cans and a few wild berries I picked in the forest. Some cheese they gave me in town out of mercy.”

“We don’t want to eat your food,” Buck assured her. “Only a little bit.”

“I’m hungry,” Bill added and Buck shot him an unpleasant glance.

“So is she. And the food is hers. She doesn’t have to help us, you know?”

Bill went silent and took a pile of clothes to the living room where he began to change. Buck was left alone with the girl in the kitchen. She was looking down nervously, focusing on his hands to avoid his eyes.

“And what is your name?” He asked her out of courtesy.

“It’s (Y/N),” she whispered. “And yours?”

“I’m Major Gale Cleven,” he reached his hand out and she hesitantly shook it. She also dared to look up and meet his gaze. Buck felt his heart skipping a beat at the sight of how sad and broken those young eyes were.

Back where he was from, young girls were not affected by the war like this. Sure, they were worried about their husbands, fathers and brothers. But they were still drinking coke, danced at the parties, whined at the shortage of nylon and drew the lines on their calves to imitate the tights. They were slowly getting used to wearing jeans as they overtook the factories, they were poster girls and had their hair done up in victory rolls. They were marking the letters with red and pink lipsticks and perfumes. And this young girl in front of him already had the eyes of a very old and wise woman. It shouldn’t be like this.

“Major Gale Cleven,” she repeated. “Sounds like from a movie.”

He was just Buck. Nothing special at all. He was not even from Hollywood or New York. But to her he was already unrealistic enough. She batted her eyelashes and looked away, shyly.

“Not really,” Buck tried to convince her and she gave him a sad smile.

Bill came back in new clothes. It was Buck’s turn now but he was afraid of leaving (Y/N) alone with his friend, so he kept staring at them awkwardly.

“Go,” Bill rolled his eyes. “I won’t hurt her,” he promised.

So Buck grabbed a pile of clothes preparead for him and went to the living room to change as fast as possible. When he came back to the kitchen, Bill was already eating some canned food with a slice of cheese and a few wild berries. A similar meal was waiting for Buck, too. (Y/N) was sitting by the table but she had no food in front of her.

“And you?” He asked her as he sat down.

“I already ate,” she told him but he had a feeling she lied so he pretended to be full already after eating a half of the plate. He offered her the rest and she eagerly took it from him as her eyes sparkled. It was probably her first “proper” meal on that day.

After they ate, (Y/N) showed them to their rooms. One belonged to her father and it was downstairs. Upstairs there were two tiny bedrooms. One was hers and one was her brother’s. She wanted Buck to sleep in it. She didn’t have to say it out loud but he knew that she trusted him more than she trusted his friend. Bill was not complaining because the room downstairs was bigger and had a nicer bed.

When Bill was already in the bedroom given to him, (Y/N) was helping Buck to put the sheets on. He was insisting there was no need but she tried her best to be a good host even in such gruesome circumstances.

“When I do this… It’s a bit like… It’s still normal, you know?” She tried to explain the best she could. He nodded at her. He understood. “There you go,” she fixed the sheets for the last time and looked down proudly at the made up bed.

“Thank you,” Buck nodded and sat on the edge of the bed. He looked up at the poster on her brother’s wall. It was very old and the colours were faded away now but he could recognise it. It was a movie poster of Charlie Chaplin’s movie City Lights.

“My brother liked Charlie Chaplin,” (Y/N) smiled. “And the films. Especially American ones. He didn’t get to see many but he liked the posters,” she explained. “When he was able to see a film, he would come back home and tell me everything about it.”

“I hope he’s alright,” Buck tried to cheer her up.

“He died,” she explained and he felt a stinging pain in his heart.

“You only said he hadn’t come back…”

“They sent us a medal and all. He’s dead,” she explained. “But papa threw the medal away. It’s in the river now.”

“Why?”

“Because he didn’t like Hitler. And my brother didn’t like him either,” she nodded. “I wish he was here, my brother. He would like you,” she added before finally approaching the door to leave him alone for the night. “Good night,” she walked away and closed the door quietly.

Buck was exhausted but he couldn’t sleep that night. He couldn’t stop thinking about the girl. What would happen tomorrow? She would take them to town, drop them off with the Americans and then what? She would just go back here? To that awful house in the middle of nowhere where she was starving and not safe? He hated to even think of such a possibility.

The walk to town was stressful and everyone kept giving them funny and suspicious looks. However, (Y/N)’s poker face and determination managed to take them to the town centre safely. It looked awful and empty – like a ghost town. She pointed at one of the soldiers patrolling the street and told them he was an American.

“Go to him,” she only said and turned around to walk away but Buck grabbed her by the sleeve of her coat and Bill hissed at him. Buck didn’t listen to that.

“What about you?” Buck asked her and her eyes widened.

“What do you mean? I don’t want him to see me,” she explained.

“You’re just going back home now?”

“Yes,” she nodded.

“No,” Buck shook his head. “You’re coming with us.”

“What are you doing, Gale?” Bill asked, irritated.

“She deserves a warm meal at least,” Buck insisted and kept a tight grip on (Y/N)’s sleeve as they all approached the suspicious soldier.

They lifted their hands up and explained who they were. Their accents and believable numbers of their units made the patrolling soldier less hostile. But then he laid his eyes on the girl.

“And her?” He asked.

“She’s with us. She helped us,” Buck told him.

“I know her. She lives in this town,” the soldier squinted his eyes at (Y/N) and she took a deep breath in. “She’s German.”

“Yes, she helped us last night. We wouldn’t be here if it was not for her,” Buck repeated. “Listen, I just want her to eat something warm, alright?”

The soldier called for a few other men who came quickly after and had a short and quiet discussion. Eventually they nodded their heads at them and led them inside of a building full of soldiers. They all looked up curiously and suspiciously.

Bill left Buck’s side quickly to talk to the men stationed there. But Buck didn’t leave (Y/N)’s side as he felt he had to look after her in this place. They were given a proper, warm meal and they sat by the table in the corner. She was eating fast and with shaky hands like a starving child given food after a long while. Buck’s heart broke and he reached his hand out to hold one of her cold ones. She looked up, scared, and he smiled softly.

“Slow down,” he only whispered.

“The women here are nothing special,” one of the men sitting by the table nearby commented. “You should have seen the French ones,” he whistled.

Buck didn’t react to that as his jaw clenched. (Y/N) ignored that comment, too, but her eyes were saddened.

When she was done with her meal, Buck approached the man in charge of the unit and asked if they could give her a few cans of food and some other supplies. The man did not want to agree.

“We’re short on them ourselves, Major Cleven,” he explained.

“Yes, sir, I understand, sir. But she lives alone in the middle of nowhere. Her brother is dead, her father most likely, too. She helped us. She’s a good woman, sir,” Buck tried to convince him.

“There is no doubt about that, son. I’m sorry. She’s not the first and not the last good woman suffering in this war.”

Buck felt defeated and helpless when he approached (Y/N) who was already preparing to leave.

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t convince him to give you supplies,” he admitted, ashamed of himself.

“It’s fine. I’ll be fine,” she tried to assure him and squeezed his arm. “You’re a good man,” she added. “Thank you for the meal… And the kindness.”

“I should be the one thanking you more,” he couldn’t help himself and he fixed her ruffled hair. Everything about her was screaming inside of him to help her, to take care of her. But he couldn’t and it was killing him. “I will never forget you, German girl.”

“And I will never forget you, Major Cleven,” she smiled and he could only watch her walk away, approaching the small road leading back to the forest.

If Bill hadn’t been there with him, he would have started thinking that she was nothing but a forest fairy he had imagined. After all he was in a land of fairytales.

MASTERLIST || BUCK MASTERLIST

[sarafangirlart]

Long post so not sure wheter or not you will read it, but there's a retelling of the myth of Perseus for kids by Imme Dros: De huiveringwekkende mythe van Perseu. The book is in german, so I will point put some bits from it that I liked and some rough translations of the fragments by me.

1) Here it's said that Acrisius thought Perseus is the son of his twin brother, not of Zeus. This is the first time for me when I see a book aimed for kids about Perseus that mentions Proteus too. Also, it is mentioned that Acrisius imprisoned Danaë back when she was only 13.

"King Akrisios heard him crying under his feet. Furious, he had Danaë taken from her prison.

'Who is that child? Whose child is that and who is the father?'

'This is Perseus, I am his mother and Zeus is his father.'

'Zeus the father? You must mean my twin brother. Of course he seduced you. To take my land! He is not satisfied with his own area, he wants everything. He has sons and now he is also claiming my grandson.'

(King Akrisios and his brother were born fighting, already fought in their mother's womb, already hated each other before they saw the light and they didn't trust each other for a fathom.)"

2) Danaë wants to educate child Perseus, but all he thinks about is fishing. She wants him to know about the gods, to which Perseus tells her that the only god he has to know about is Poseidon. Danaë then tells him that he will be the King of Argos one day so he must know about the gods too. Little Perseus's favorite god is Hermes, so he constantly asks his mom to tell him more about him:

"Diktys taught young Perseus all about ships, sails and oars and everything he needed to know about water, wind and current to become a decent fisherman. Danaë wanted to teach him everything about the gods. Perseus had no patience for that. He protested:

'I go to sea and I only need to know Poseidon, that is the god of the sea, that is the god of fishermen.'

'But you will not remain a fisherman, Perseus. You will be a king! King of Argos. Kings should know the gods.'

'Well, then tell me the adventures of Hermes. Hermes is also a god and he always wins, that's exciting,' Perseus demanded, but his mother kept trying.

'Soon from Hermes. Listen now, Perseus. First there was Chaos. Everything came from Chaos... Say, are you listening, Perseus?'

'Yes, I hear it. But now from Hermes. Now from Hermes again.'

'Soon from Hermes. This is important. You need to know this. Everything comes from the great, fierce, dark Chaos...'

3) When Polydectes saw Danaë for the first time he thought she's Artemis and started to worship her for a moment:

"A powerful king ruled on the island of Serifos who oppressed and sucked his people, Polydectes. He was Diktys' brother and just as bad as he was good. About the time Perseus became a man came Polydectes meets the lovely Danaë during a hunt through the forest. At first he thought she was Artemis, the goddess of hunters, and he fell down before her. When he noticed she was human, he demanded that she become his lawful wife.  Danaë didn't want to."

4) At the beginning of his journey Perseus arrives for the first time in Athens, where he starts crying because of how beautiful the city was:

"Who stood shouting loudly in the middle of Athens could just reach a man near the walls with his voice. So the city was not allowed to get any bigger, that would be a danger. Perseus cried his eyes out. What a square, what houses, what a beautiful temple, what a mighty theater. That such a thing could exist. And oh, what people. He would get an answer to his question here, that was certain. But in the busy market of Athens no one could help him.

'Did you say Gorgons?'

'Gorgons? No, I wouldn't know.'

'No, you shouldn't be with us.'

'Go ask that in Delfi. Everyone goes there and that's why it must be good. Anyone who has a question and wants an answer always goes to Delfi.'

'Delfi, go to Delfi.'

5) They go by the version where Medusa was a beautiful mortal woman once. The difference is that here she willingly has sex with Poseidon in Athena's temple, and when she asks her how dare she do such thing Medusa tells her that Poseidon loves her and wants to marry her and she will soon become her aunt, so she should be nice with her from now on. This is the moments when Athena gets angry and turns her into a gorgon.

"[Medusa] made no apologies and bragged about her affair.

'If Poseidon marries me then I will be your aunt, Athena. He has more power than you, so don't worry about that temple.'

Pride comes before a fall, let people realize this very well! No matter how one excels, modesty is always required. They will never become gods, they just don't want to understand that. [...] A single bad trait can undo all the good that a mortal received. Gods hate pride and it was for her pride that Medusa had to pay, even though she was a nymph and the daughter of Forkys, the sea god."

6) We get to see the moments where Athena teaches Perseus how to fight while looking and his shield, whereas Hermes teaches him how to fly with those sandals:

"With the shield in her hands, Athena came to Perseus and she said to him, the goddess with the sea-green eyes:

'Never look directly at a Gorgon, look into this shield and look for her image, just remember that the right is the left in it.'

Perseus practiced diligently for the battle with Medusa, aimed in the shining shield at trees and rocks. Hard enough, it took him days to hit anything. He also had to learn to fly. With trial and error. Hermes held his hand and it took a while before he managed to keep his balance during take off and descent, before it flew straight and could make a quick turn. Flying seemed so easy when you saw birds flying,

but Perseus would never become a swift or a seagull. When he became more confident in floating and not every nymph anymore was crooked with laughter as he sailed past, Hermes announced that it was time to leave. And the merry nymphs wept loudly at parting."

7) The Perseus and Andromeda moments are sweet but cute. Also, here Andromeda and her family live in Joppa:

"Now Joppa was in charge because Perseus demanded the bride, but the man with the oldest rights came with an army.

To make a long story short: Medusa's head

served well again because every enemy petrified. Perseus and Andromeda were married that same day. He loved her and she loved him so they were happy The celebration of the great wedding in Joppa lasted ten days."

"King Cepheus made the cupbearer go round again, then each guest left for his own house to sleep. But the king slept in the palace next to Kasiopeia, and Andromeda shared her bed with her bridegroom Perseus."

8) Perseus also traveled in the Underworld before arriving in Joppa. At his wedding he tells the quest about what he saw in the realm of Hades and even tells the myth of the seasons at one point for some reason (but I won't include it as well because it's too long):

"Nowhere is the water as deep as where the water is separates the living from the dead. Five rivers flow between us and the poor, unfortunate shadows. When I looked at the grave lily meadows it seemed as if I

just like the Gorgons looked into a mirrored shield, but outside that shield was none of what was reflected. I saw the

images of people, but the people themselves were nowhere. And I saw those shadows of people nowhere present stagger across the meadows and report to the entrance where the Dog sat.  He let the shadows pass, but when one wanted to go out he shook his three heads. Whether they were old, whether they were young, inside was inside. There in the depths Haides and Persefoneia rule."

"On the edge of Tartaros, that is the deepest depth, houses the goddesses of revenge, who continue to persecute people if they have committed crimes. Their faces and claws, horrible to see, something I will never be able to forget. The Harpies are also monstrously ugly, fast as the storm wind they fly about to torment the dead, to provoke the people. They have heads like women, bodies and wings like birds, claws like tigers. When a man has insulted a god come the cruel Harpies. They pollute his food, shit on his plate and piss in his cup.

Until he dies of hunger at crowded, smelly tables. And I saw Sleep and his brother Death far away walking at the gates where all dreams come through."

"...daughters of my father Danaus, bear water to a great and bottomless barrel in leaking jars.These women killed their husbands the night after the wedding day. When I saw the poor shadows dragging the leaky jars my eyes became blind with tears, I couldn't bear it. And I became afraid of everything that could happen to myself. Suddenly I wanted to leave and I would prefer to forget everything what I saw there under the dark earth."

9) There's a short moment where, turning back to Argos, Danaë visits the chamber where she was imprisoned years ago:

"King Akrisios heard the news and his bad conscience drove him away from Argos to a city in the north. He had friends there in Larissa, he was safe there. So when Perseus arrived with his wife and his mother, he found in Argos an empty palace and no one could say where old king Akrisios had gone, whether he was alive or perhaps dead and under the earth. Danaë showed her son the underground dungeon,

dark and gloomy with bronze doors and no windows. And she visited the places where she had played as a girl. When they were on the beach of the sea just like a long time ago laid flowers of pebbles, she cried bitter tears. Because her life had turned out differently than she had hoped."

Why are all the interesting Perseus adaptations not available in English?

[jumpingwjoy]

another watercolor painting!! im going through my pokemon sun playthrough as ricky, and this outfit is what i dressed her up in ^_^ i tried to match her band au fashion as much as possible 🫡

i’ve got game screenshots and long ass ramble under the cut 😭

realizing tumblr can let me ramble continuously as much as i want so i could talk about my thoughts and my previous pokemon runs too woaw...maybe i’ll post pics of those playthroughs one day, but probably on my main blog instead 🤔

here's ricky's current team where i’m at and what she looks like in game!! i was sooo peeved that twin tails are locked in post game, even if they don’t even look like ricky’s hairstyle at all, i just think she needs some kind of ponytail…i used to have her with straight bangs to imitate her three bangs style, but it kinda looked ugly af… :V

i’m just before vast poni canyon so gummy will soon be the rail gun beetle that ricky deserves ^_^ i decided on a sweets/dessert nickname theme, tho i did consider a norse mythology theme, but i thought she’d be more cutesy in a pokémon au/world where she is not in life threatening stakes.

i want to write out my reasonings for each pokémon pick too, this team isn’t exactly what i had in mind since it’s limited to the sun pokédex, but i’m pretty fond of them!! mostly, i thought she could have a non-dex rotom (but since it’s like this, her rotom dex is definitely named mike), and i also thought she’d have a porygon - but u can only get it post-game and i’d have to deal with trade evolutions o<-<

i also chose pokémon sun as ricky’s game since i headcanon her to be wasian HAHA specifically japanese and american/german - since hawaii is known for its japanese immigrant population (which is also reflected in the game itself), i liked the idea of her having an actual game background of immigrating from kanto

1. alolan raichu - pikachu is the iconic mascot, just like ricky XD alolan raichu shares her love of sweets, and i think lets her identify with being alolan too

2. vikavolt - he’s a rail gun!! ricky should always have fun with guns. i think ricky has an affinity with machines, and vikavolt has gundam aesthetics hehe. his pre evolutions are cute too, which i think ricky would like. notably he’s another electric type, a remnant from when i used to have ricky as an electric type specific trainer, before i decided to diversify types for eo teams. rotom also would’ve been another electric type…😅

3. metagross - another association with machines—it reminds me of gladsheim as well. i like the juxtaposition of this hulking creature made of metal next to ricky too. showing off her cute and cool sides...

its name is ike as a companion to mike, making them fit into the sweets theme LOL

4. wigglytuff - i headcanon that ricky enjoys singing (and is the lead singer in band au) so i wanted a music related pokémon. maybe in universe, she would stay as a jigglypuff?

5. toucannon - also because of gun. i actually hunted a shiny version, bc it looks like the bi pride flag aghdjshfd. i think ricky can be prone to have a temper, matching toucannon's angry look

6. alolan ninetales - ok so i was conflicted bc i wanted an ice type, as a reference to ricky’s cryo sleep lol, and i was also considering vanillite bc ice cream… but its moveset sucks ass!!! sorry!!!! i do like ninetales as an additional reference to her heritage though…i have vanillite in rosa’s hypothetical team too so it wasn’t really meant for ricky in the first place :P

honorable mentions:

i chose litten as her starter since i think she’s a cat person, and also someone who likes buff people……….

vanillite like i mentioned—harder to catch than i thought cause it needs to be snowing for this guy to show up as an sos helper >:0

alolan exeggutor - long long yggdrasil

this turned out a lot longer than i thought im not used to writing down so much even in tweet threads but it was fun to spill out some of the very specific things i think about in my day to day lol...if you somehow read all of this, thank you for your time wakjhsdg 🙇🏻‍♀️

[technicolorfamiliar]

The Spy in Black Dir. Michael Powell 1939

I was going to combine this and Dark Journey in one post, but I ended up writing way more about The Spy in Black than I thought I would. I'm so, so glad I came back to this film. Rereading my initial thoughts after my first viewing, I realize clearly missed a lot because I was too hyperfocused on Connie being the way he is. But I did rewatch Dark Journey recently, and ended up liking that movie a whole lot less the second time around, so I'm not really in any hurry to post about it.

...

The Spy in Black feels worlds away from the grand, technicolor masterpieces of Powell and Pressburger. Despite the whole final act taking place at sea with the U-boats and battleships firing at one another, the film doesn't come close to the opulence of what are perhaps The Archers' most well-known and beloved films. The Spy in Black is minimalist by comparison, and yet it doesn’t feel out of place when considered among their other works.

Set mostly in the Orkney Islands, a damp and cold feeling permeates the film. That's something The Archers are exceptionally good at as filmmakers -- creating a multisensory experience for the viewer just through their visuals and sound design. Whether it's their wind battered Himalayan monastery in Black Narcissus, or the ever present rain and closeness of the sea to the little schoolhouse in The Spy in Black, Powell and Pressburger films are undeniably immersive. Atmosphere and a sense of place are key defining factors in their films even in this, their earliest work together.

The filmmakers also of course were aware of Conrad Veidt's prestige and wanted to make sure the look of the film paid homage to Connie's past work. There are scenes with deep, angular shadows for Hardt to disappear into and creep out of like in Caligari or Orlac. The title of the film has been bugging me, but now I think it's not so much about what Hardt wears as it is about him lurking in the shadows. (There's also a cute story about Michael Powell and Connie's first meeting where Powell was more than a little star struck; I believe he went on and on about Connie's deep blue eyes and his purring voice, which is understandable.)

The writing suits their actors so perfectly. Compared to Dark Journey where everyone is so painfully British when they aren't supposed to be, there's something in the writing and direction that differentiates the nationalities in The Spy in Black. So even Marius Goring, who is British as can be, when playing a German naval officer isn't quite AS British as Sebastian Shaw and Valerie Hobson, if that makes any sense. It's a subtle difference, but there's something about the performances in this film compared to Dark Journey that allow for a greater suspension of disbelief.

And it's funny! Maybe not as obviously funny as Contraband, but The Spy in Black has some really finely crafted comedic moments that don't feel out of step with the rest of the film. It's not a comedy by any means; it's a drama with room for humor, kind of like real life… just with better looking people. When Hardt is wrestling his motorbike up a hill and is startled by a bunch of sheep, he baas back at them! It's a little moment that feels random at the same time it feels relatable. And it humanize Hardt, who doesn't really need the help -- he's already at this point in the movie completely endeared to the audience (or should be if you have a heart and eyes to see him). Most of the humor in the movie comes from Hardt being put in Situations.

The whole butter thing is so delightfully stupid. They establish Hardt early on as a foodie and a glutton, if only because he's been deprived of good food for great lengths of time. So when he arrives at the schoolhouse rendezvous and is checking each room to make sure it's safe, when the camera catches him in closeup staring with extreme intensity at something off screen. We're to think he suddenly sees something dangerous. The camera cuts to Miss Burnett/Fräulein Thiel/Mrs Blacklock looking confused and concerned. The music builds dramatically as they cut back to Hardt who is creeping towards the table. He reaches down, grabs something, the music crescendos, he lifts the thing to his face -- it's a giant block of butter.

It's delightful, it speaks to anyone who loves food, or at least just to me. Hardt then proceeds to eat most of the butter and, like, half a ham before collapsing but not without first lighting what are clearly supposed to be post-coitalesque cigarettes for himself and Thiel. Even though they spend most of the middle of the film flirting like goddamn pros, sharing a decadent meal is the closest they get to anything explicitly sexual.

Production began towards the end of 1938 and the film was released in the spring of 1939. While England didn't officially enter the war until the following fall, one would have to imagine the threat of conflict was making the general population anxious. The Spy in Black is a WWI film, set in 1917, but unlike other cinematic narratives of the 1930s centered around past wars, this film doesn’t really go out of its way to glorify the military or present a particularly nationalistic story. All the characters are heroic, all the characters are flawed, none more so than the man at the center of the film, Captain Ernst Hardt, a German U-boat captain. The balls they had to make a film with this kind of protagonist at this time. Yet the film doesn't claim to make any kind of sweeping judgement, positive or negative, about Germans. It seems more likely that with the war looming, Hardt is less of a statement about Germans in general and more like Dark Journey's Von Marwitz: both characters seem to be informing the British audience that this outsider, Conrad Veidt, this man you mainly know as a screen villain, is a good man. He's one of us, it seems to suggest.

This film, perhaps uniquely for its time, focuses on the individuals rather than the nations they represent. It seems more focused on how each of the main characters are personally affected by their actions. While the acts of espionage are played out with slick intrigue, by the end of the movie Hardt and Mrs Blacklock are both full of regret. Everything they've done has done little more than lead to the deaths of people who had lives, families, people who loved them. No amount of honor and devotion to one's country in wartime can wash the blood from their hands. In Mrs Blacklock's case, I don't believe her heart was really in it. She breaks down on the captured ferry and says, "You’re in the hands of a man who cares nothing for his life or yours. And it's all my fault. I forgot we were at war, forgot that war means that it kills every fine, decent human feeling." And Hardt himself, for all his good intentions and humanity extended to his prisoners on the ferry, loses every one of his crew, men who may have been the only people he truly cared about in the entire world. And having lost them, having not been able to protect them from the fatal depth charge that struck their U-boat, he has nothing left to live for. The machine of war, or more accurately the psychology of war, claims Hardt as yet another victim. The real villain of The Spy in Black is not the German naval captain nor his men, but rather the war itself. The Spy in Black is at its heart, under all the sexually suggestive dialogue and clever cinematography, an anti-war movie masquerading as a standard espionage thriller.

Valerie Hobson apparently was hired to replace Vivien Leigh and, honestly, thank god. A hundred thousand Vivien Leigh fans would swarm my house with torches and pitchforks if they ever read this, but Valerie Hobson is a better actor and more charismatic, SORRY. She has more range and better comedic timing than Leigh (who went on to do Gone With The Wind anyway, so good for her I guess). Val is maybe more fun in Contraband, but I love that she and Connie got on so well, on screen and off, with each other and with Powell and Pressburger that they all got back together to make a second film. Watching The Spy in Black again, Contraband definitely feels like the more self-indulgent film, but I don't care. And here we get to see the beginning of that collaboration, see the sparks fly as Val and Connie expertly handle the dialogue and direction. I love their dynamic on screen; Hardt deferring to this woman that he thinks is his superior, the way she corrects his English (which was something Val did to Connie in real life that adorably carried over into the film), the way she barks at him to pick up his motorbike and go to bed, the way she looks at him at the end of the film with heartbreak in her eyes but can't bring herself to apologize or say anything at all. UGH. UUUUUGGHHHH. She and Connie have so many great moments together in this film, it's impossible to pick a favorite.

(Powell and Pressburger dared to put Connie and Val nose to nose and have him say to her, "It is evening and I am grown up, " knowing full well what this would do to unsuspecting audiences, only to -- just one year later -- go "hold my beer" and make give him even worse lines in Contraband. GOATed.)

Connie genuinely seems like he's having 10x more fun on this film than Dark Journey. For one thing, he's welcomed back to England after a couple flops and a stopover in France with a more interesting, more fully realized character, one where he's allowed to bring in more of his own opinions and creative choices. Captain Hardt feels more like a real guy, he's less perfect than Von Marwitz. On this rewatch, I realized I'd forgotten how gruff and grumpy Hardt is (which, like Andersen in Contraband, I chalk up to him being hangry). As captain, he's no-bullshit but endures lighthearted teasing from his shipmates. He's allowed to have a friend! Schuster and Hardt clearly have history, they aren't new to one another, they speak (comedically) in unison, after all. I mean, Hardt brings Schuster a block of butter later in the film! That's real friendship.

Hardt makes it known that he loves food, even simple things like bread and butter. This may have more to do with the military rations being beyond bad than a pre-existing character trait of Hardt's, but it gives him color and humanity. And Hardt is just as smooth as the Von Marwitz; when the fiancé of the real Miss Burnett shows up and sees the medal ribbon on his uniform, Hardt slyly and proudly states that it's the "Iron Cross, second class." And when Miss Burnett's fiancé assumes Hardt must be a prisoner of war, the Captain replies, slowly drawling his pistol, "No… you are." And all with the most perfect, calm confidence. He's a Bad MF, no lie.

So many interesting little things get revealed about Hardt pretty early on in the film. There are multiple exchanges about cigarettes being unavailable and someone offering him a pipe to which he says, "I never smoke a pipe." (As far as I see it, and I'm not complaining, but one of the only character differences between Hardt and Captain Andersen in Contraband is that Andersen does smoke a pipe lol) There are a handful of possibly queer coded things they throw in too: Schuster finds it humorous that Hardt would be reciting poetry in the dark to the lady spy he's to meet, to which Hardt says, "You think it's so funny, you know what you can do with it!" And earlier, when someone is looking for the captain, they're told, perhaps with an implied wink, that he might be found at the Turkish baths. Then there's the whole thing with Hardt literally pulling the cigar away from Schuster's mouth. I'm not saying definitively that Hardt is bi… but isn't he, though??

He is ultimately a reluctant spy; when he receives his orders to meet the German agent in Scotland, he's more annoyed than excited. He grumpily accepts his orders, but as a decorated military officer, doing spy stuff is beneath him. He insists on wearing his uniform even at the schoolhouse when he's supposed to be in hiding, because if he should die in service of his duties, he'd rather meet his end as Captain Hardt, not as an assumed identity.

Hardt is so wrapped up in his identity as a military officer that it ends up killing him. His end is tragic, nearly Shakespearean. He is not without honor, in fact he's positively full of it. He seems born and bred to follow orders, to whatever end they may have. And yet he is not a bad man. He commands authority but does not wield it with cruelty. He tells his crew to shoot any of the prisoners on the captured ferry who make noise, "with one exception" for a crying infant, and he allows the prisoners to escape on the lifeboats when the ship is sinking. Hardt cannot stop his own men from firing on the ferry, what they think is an enemy ship -- they have no way of knowing Hardt's taken over command of the ferry. Even his desperate and helpless cries and signals can't carry over the water to reach them in time. As the ship slowly sinks and everyone, including the ferry's original captain and crew, disembarks, Hardt elects to stay behind -- as his U-boat's commanding officer and with his entire crew lost and his captured ship sunk, Hardt makes the decision, in his mind the only decision, to die a captain's death at sea. The last time we see Hardt in closeup, he has tears in his eyes. We don’t see him drown, but we watch as an abandoned lifejacket floats across the frame. It's heartbreakingly tragic; we've gotten to know him, maybe even love him, over the course of the film.

I know I'm going on and on about this one, and I'm almost done, but I have a few more things to say.

People loved to get on Connie's case for his English pronunciation and his supposedly heavy German accent, but he sounds amazing in this film. He plays up some German pronunciation of certain words for comedic effect (Exhibit A: "Bütter"), but his natural accent is so inoffensive here (not that it's ever that bad, even in Rome Express or FP1 imo), and it sounds like he even tried to play it down even more than usual. And if I've said it once I've said it a hundred times, he's such a fucking master of vocal delivery. Hardt's voice sits almost in the same pocket that Von Marwitz's does but Hardt is allowed to be more expressive in his range. I feel like I have a whole separate post in me strictly about Connie's use of his voice. He's a master technician vocally, and yet for as studied as his film speaking voice in English may have been, it never sounds to my ears anything other than effortless and natural.

To wrap things up: Powell, Pressburger, Connie and Val Hobson really are the dream team. The Spy in Black is yet another movie I immediately wanted to watch again the second it was over. It's a 10.

[wordstome]

Shrike pt. 3 - who we are

König x high school sweetheart reader

2nd person, she/her pronouns, reader is Austrian/has lived in Austria and speaks German for most of the story, romance, pining, friends to lovers, reader's nickname is Thorn, König's first name is Alexander, absolute tooth rotting fluff, corny as hell towards the end

2.8k words

tw: physical and emotional abuse, violence (chokehold, stabbing, throat slitting)

Hello to everyone reading this from my main blog! In case you haven't seen the pinned post on bucca2, this is my new writing blog. Everything I publish will be here on wordstome now. Please feel free to unfollow bucca2 and follow me here!

also PARIS PALOMA TEASED HER NEW SONG "DRYWALL" JUST FOR SHRIKE CHAPTER 3 SPREAD THE WORD

[PART 1] [PART 2 (PREV)] [MASTERLIST]

What I had left here I just held it tight So someone with your eyes Might come in time To hold me like water Or Christ, hold me like a knife

When you’re in total darkness, your eyes adjust. You can see everything around you, but it’s all devoid of color. Then when the light turns on, it blinds you, but it’s better to be blinded momentarily than to live in the dark forever.

That’s how it feels as you prepare to travel home. To escape. You’re antsy, excited and petrified at the same time. Before, it felt like the days flew past in a murky haze. Now, even the seconds crawl.

It feels like moving in a dream, like you’ll wake up any day now and it will all be taken away from you. Your hope, your new dreams for the future, your König.

A shiver runs through you. Where did “your König” come from?

When you’re not occupied with the anxiety of keeping such a huge secret from your husband, all you think about is König. You’ve spent the past few weeks in a haze, like he’s put some sort of spell on you. You do get a kick out of imagining him as a witch with a hat and cauldron.

But you know it’s something simpler than that. All the feelings you used to have for him have returned.  It’s different than the heady rush you used to get with your husband. It feels sweeter, like you really are a teenage girl with a crush all over again.

It feels naïve, but you also don’t care. You feel safe despite the situation you’re still in, for the first time in a long time. You never would have expected to see König again—even less so for him to become your saving grace.

It seems silly in hindsight that you had been so frightened of him. Sure, the mask was a lot. But it had been something about his energy. It was different than you had ever felt from him, before or after your reunion. If he was that way on the battlefield, then no wonder he had earned the nickname König. You’re not sure if it scares or awes you.

You’re about to find out.

An anxiety attack is the worst feeling in the world.

You dry heave. Your chest feels like a roiling ball of angry carrion birds hollowing you out. You shake like a leaf in the wind. You fall down a long, dark pit of despair as your stomach seizes with nausea.

The train’s delayed. There’s been an issue with the tracks leading out of the city. No trains will be leaving for 12 hours.

You should have just sat in the terminal and waited, or tried to contact König, but you’re not thinking straight. All of your thoughts are focused on your husband, and what he’ll do if he comes home and finds you gone. You decide, somehow, that it would be wiser to throw yourself back into the lion’s den and pretend everything’s alright instead of waiting for him to come raging into the train station and pull you out by the hair. The thought of that is the only thing that gets you up off the wall you were hyperventilating against and back towards home.

The plan is to get home before he does and hide your suitcases. He’s usually not home by this time, anyway. You chalk the rising sense of dread in the pit of your stomach up to your anxiety and turn the handle to go in.

Fuck.

He’s standing in the kitchen.

The years have not been kind to him. He’s far from the charming young man you married. He’s wretched, unkempt, angry. It’s clear he’s been drinking, maybe even before he left work. The shadows etch themselves into the lines of his face as his expression twists into something awful, inhuman. You stand, frozen, as he approaches you.

“Planning a trip without me?” he asks with an awful grin.

You can still salvage this. “Yes. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything, but I just received word. My mother’s not doing well. I have to go see her.”

“You lie like a whore,” he snarls. “Don’t think I haven’t been paying attention. You’re different nowadays. Not the nice obedient woman I married.”

Your fear turns to anger in an instant. Years and years of this horseshit, waiting on him hand and foot, placing his smallest whims before your own needs and wants—it rushes up through you like hot steam. His nice obedient woman. And the worst thing is, you hate that he’s not wrong. That is what you’ve become.

“Yesterday I came home and you hadn’t even started dinner. Where were you, huh? Running around on me behind my back?” It’s difficult to describe, but his smile is oily: sleazy, untrustworthy, dangerous. “With that big fuck in a hood that came here with the mercenaries, perhaps?”

Your blood runs cold at that. Has he seen you with König? When? Why hasn’t he said anything? It feels like you’re stepping into a trap, but you must move forward if you want to get out.

“He’s going to get what’s coming to him, alright. My manager has a direct line to his boss. One word from him will get that fucker deployed to the middle of nowhere on a suicide mission.”

It’s an absurd threat, and you know it. This drunken idiot has no idea what he’s talking about—as if some middle-management bureaucrat could persuade a PMC to dispose of a soldier like König. But it’s the audacity that irks you. You’ve lived your life serving this man for too long, and now he thinks the world will bend to his whims. There’s absolutely no way he can touch König, but an old and familiar anger rises in you.

A long overdue revelation dawns on you now. He’s a bully. The same as Andreas: little boys with petty insults and empty threats. Pushing people around because their own lives are empty and unsatisfying.

An eerie calm breaks through you like the sky cutting through a storm. The man before you is just a feral animal, snarling and snapping in desperation. You’re not afraid of him anymore.

You reach behind you and slowly roll open the knife drawer, grabbing the first one your fingers land on.

“I’m leaving. I’m leaving this house, this country, and this marriage,” you say, gripping the knife in a defensive position. Your father taught you how to hold a knife like this: backwards, with the blade along your arm, sharp edge facing outwards.

“This way, it’s much more difficult for someone to turn the blade against you,” he had told you, demonstrating the motion by moving your arm towards your chest. The memory makes you smile. At the time, you’d been indulging your old man—he had always said that violence was a last resort, but that the world was unkind and one day you may have to defend yourself. He was right, just as he was when he told you he had reservations about your marriage.

You’re going home. You’re going to see your father again. And you’ll never have to tolerate the loathsome toad before you again.

The beast laughs. “What do you think you’re going to do with that? Stab me?” He’s up against you before you can react, the breath leaving your lungs in a gasp as he pins you against a wall by the throat.

“You. Are. Mine. You will never raise a hand against me because I own you,” he hisses, his alcohol-laced breath foul against your face. “And it’s high time you remembered that.” His grip tightens like an iron vice around your throat, but you’re not afraid. Even as your vision begins to blur and blacken, you stare directly into his eyes. They’re like red-hot coals of fury, but you see what’s behind them now. The fear. The cowardice of a desperate man who has no recourse but to lay his hands on someone who can’t fight back.

“You’re pathetic,” you rasp, lips tugging into a smile. The coals burn brighter. The hand squeezes tighter. The adrenaline surges through you like a tide—and your body acts to protect itself, in a way that you haven’t allowed it to in a long time. A feeling as sweet and familiar as an old friend.

The knife makes its home right between his ribs.

He staggers away from you, as if you had slightly winded him instead of stabbed him in the heart. Your hands instantly go to your throat as you cough and sputter, lightheaded and dizzy but alive, so alive. You’ve never felt so alive as you do right now, watching the demon of your own personal hell look down at the blade sticking out of him.

“You stupid little bitch—” He makes as if to lunge at you, but time slows. Your eyes widen as the shadows behind him melt and solidify into a figure. Tall and hooded. No knight in shining armor, but an assassin of deepest night.

König slashes through your husband’s throat in one deadly, beautiful motion.

Your husband falls to the ground like dead weight, gasping and choking on his own blood. Your eyes are fixed on him, a strange sensation bubbling through you. You’re making some kind of noise, loud and cacophonous, as König steps over the dying animal who has controlled you your whole adult life.

His arms find their way around you as you slowly sink to the ground, howling and wailing. He’s so patient, you think numbly with some corner of your mind that remains untouched by the mania seizing the rest of you. The two of you sit there, his body warm and solid against yours, as your body slowly exits fight or flight mode.

“Alex?” you say hoarsely once you’re in your right mind again.

“I’m here,” he rumbles.

You turn to look at him as he pulls the hood off his head. There he is, your Alexander, all grown up. He’s rugged, with nasty-looking white scars streaked across his face, but so, so handsome. His eyes are still the same as he looks at you with something akin to rapturous adoration. Your green-eyed boy.

“You’re back, rosethorn,” he says with a wide grin. There’s a touch of madness to it, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

“Was I…” Exhaustion sets in, seeping through your whole body. “Was I crying or laughing just now?”

He shifts you onto his lap, cradling you like a baby as you look up at him.

“I think you were laughing.”

The police release you after just over half an hour of questioning.

You aren’t going anywhere, of course. They’re leaving you, exiting your hospital room with murmurs of well-wishes for your health. They’ve hardly left the room when König comes striding in, instantly moving to your bedside and holding your hand in his.

He looks tired too, his eyes soft as he takes in your small smile. You’re sure he was being interrogated for much longer than you, but it looks like he passed muster as well. Not as if you had anything to worry about—what could the local police have done to the commander of the mercenaries taking down their local terrorist cell anyway?

“Are you alright? Did they clear you?” His expression hardens as he glances at your neck. You nod weakly. Your throat is going to be bruised for a while, but your attacker hadn’t done any lasting damage.

Attacker. Husband. Corpse. All of these words describe the same thing now.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there sooner,” he says mournfully. “He shouldn’t have had the chance to attack you like that.”

You shake your head at him. He didn’t know that you weren’t on the train heading home, after all. The room is quiet for a few moments, save for the distant beeping of a heart monitor.

“Why…” you manage to ask. He knows what you’re trying to say.

“Why was I there?” He glances around to make sure nobody’s listening, and leans in to whisper in your ear.

“I was there to kill him, of course.”

You shudder a little. He admits it so casually, that he was in your house because he was there to commit a murder. You should be afraid of him, but you feel around in your brain and come up empty-handed.

Instead, you find yourself worried. For him. “What if you had gotten in trouble?”

He snorts. “You underestimate me, rosethorn. I would have just framed it as a robbery.”

You nod. Oh God…does that mean he had planned this? Why doesn’t that horrify or disgust you? You’re just going to have to dissect that later. Right now, you only feel a warm affection towards the man stroking his thumb along your hand in a soothing motion.

“So…what comes next?”

“You’re asking me? We can do whatever you like. I can take you home.”

Home. Where is that, now? It’s certainly not in the house you’ve left behind, where the ghost of the man you were married to settles in every nook and cranny. It doesn’t feel like your childhood home where your parents are, either.

It’s such a corny saying, “home is where the heart is”. But home feels like it’s already here, sitting next to your hospital bed with the fondest look in his eyes.

“I’d like to travel,” you whisper. The with you goes unspoken.

“I have plenty of leave time saved up.”

You flip your hand so you can hold his. It’s huge next to yours. This is the hand that slit your husband’s throat, a hand that has killed countless people.

You’re not sentimental enough to pretend that’s not an issue. You’re not entirely sure this is happily ever after: that all of your problems are solved because you’ve replaced one violent man with another. But another part of you yearns to be the one who gets protected. You’ll take care of König, and you know he’ll take care of you. In his own way.

You can ask the questions later. Right now, you have lost time to make up for.

“Are you sure you should be wearing that scarf?”

The air is cold, but the wind is soft instead of feeling like tiny blades against your face. You tug said scarf down from your face and take in a lungful of crisp, icy air.

“I’ll be fine,” you reassure König as he hauls himself up the last ridge to where you’re standing. “It’s loose enough. And it’s chilly.”

“If you say so.” He tugs his neck gaiter further up his nose. “What a view, hm?”

You’re standing on Mont Blanc, blanketed by serene white snow just as the name promised. Further below you, the skiing slopes are crawling with tourists, but here in this little outcropping, the only sound is the occasional rush of wind and your voices.

“I think I can see Salzburg from here,” you say, pointing off into gorgeous landscape spread out before you.

“That is most certainly still Switzerland,” König says, amused. You turn to look at him instead and are rewarded with his shining green eyes looking right back at you.

“Whatever!” You let out a dissatisfied hmph, which draws a hearty laugh from him.

“You came all the way to Chamonix just so you could look at Austria again?”

“It’s a very tall mountain,” you argue.

“It’s one of many very tall mountains. We could have just gone to Großglockner.”

“That’s boring. I’ve always wanted to visit France.”

“You wanted to visit a very expensive ski chalet.”

“Bite me.”

“I just might!” You giggle and squeal as he grabs you, chasing your face with his as you squirm around.

“It is beautiful,” he concedes as he holds a hand above his eyes to keep off the sun. “Almost as beautiful as you.”

“I should push you off this peak right now.”

“You couldn’t move me an inch.” He grabs you by the waist and holds you tight to emphasize his point. You can’t even shift his arms off you, no matter how hard you push.

“Ok, fine, you win.” You pout at him, but he doesn’t let you go.

The dynamic the two of you share is so easygoing and relaxed, it’s like you had a rhythm all along that both of you just fell back into. But of course, there are some things you’ve never done together. Like travel together.

Or kiss.

“Are you going to do it this time?” you ask him, smiling.

His nose wrinkles up, uncharacteristically cute for someone like him. “Well, I was going to, but then you had to open your mouth.”

You cackle. “Go on then.”

“Can I?”

“I just said yes!”

“I forgot how much you like to talk,” he complains. Before you can say another word, he captures your lips in his.

The sky is vivid and blue as the whole world stretches out before you.

#RIPBOZO

Here we are! We're at the end of this little story I started writing on a whim. Honestly, this means a lot to me personally: I wrote a lot when I was younger, but high school and university were very difficult times for me, and I stopped writing fanfiction. I tried to get back into it during the pandemic, but I was never able to finish anything beyond a long-ish drabble. I'm quite proud of this.

Even still, I feel like there are a lot of stories that I still want to tell about this couple. There's quite a lot that I decided to cut from these main 3 chapters for the sake of pacing and time. There's a little bit of dissatisfaction at not having crammed in every little detail that I wanted, but if there's one thing that writing university papers has taught me, it's that perfectionism will keep you from getting anything done. So you will be getting more from Alex and Thorn in the future!

I know a lot of you were anticipating what delicious revenge König was going to exact on Thorn's husband, so I hope you weren't too disappointed ;; While I personally would have loved to have König strap him to a chair in the basement and do some morbid things with a knife, I think it was important for Thorn's character that she's involved in it. While of course the main focus of this story is König, Shrike is also about his beloved Thorn. I hope to explore König and the darker (and pervier) aspects of his character more in subsequent stories. But for now, they're getting a well-deserved happy ending.

One last thing before I go: Chamonix is a resort town in central/southeast France, not far from Lyon. (Sorry, I don't know whether Lyon is south enough to be considered southern France lol). Mont Blanc is Chamonix's main peak of the Alps, and is known for how pretty it is and being at the border of France, Switzerland, and Italy. As König said, if you wanted to visit a mountain as an Austrian, there are several of them at home you could visit, but since I visited it a few years ago, Chamonix has a special place in my heart. I just had to cram it in!

As usual, I'm excited to see your comments and feedback. I've read every single thing everybody has commented about this fic, even if I couldn't respond to you all, and I appreciate it so deeply. Whenever I get feedback I literally feel like kicking my feet and giggling. And if you want to ask questions or request specific scenarios with Thorn and Alex, please do send me an ask!

@crowbird @poohkie90 @cumikering @iytatsworld @papaver-decervicatus @anxietyrain @riotakire @ax0lotly @kneelingshadowsalome @cookiepie111 @kacchasu @no1runawaymilkdad @chthonian-spectre @backwards-readings @yxllowtxpe @garbau @hexqueensupreme @queenthorin1 @violetstyless @her-majesty-theking @vegan-peppermint @peonytarian @ghostslittlegf @euuuuuuun @e1x03 @kokonoiwife @deaddainish @dragonfang @teehee-47 @catluvwr @fireballoveraltanta

psst. to my tag list people while I have you here: naturally I will continue tagging you in other Shrike stories, but I'll also be using this same tag list for every other König fic I write. If you'd like to opt out of that, let me know. (No hard feelings, of course :3)

[lil-melody-moon]

Okay, I think there has to be at least one post that sums up this year for me *hits my fist against an open palm of a hand* LET'S START THE COMPLAINING OF A POLE

Trigger warning: swearing, suicide mention, death mention, mental health being shattered to pieces

First of all, fuck this year.

I started it with a major breakdown at January/February. Start of it was at one night when I felt lonely. Decided to lay down in bed and listen to "Quadrophenia". I think this was the day that kinda created a bond with this album. The story of it was always speaking to me, not once nor twice did I think about running away from the life I have and start anew in a place where nobody knows me. Same goes with the feeling of being left out while trying to fit in to be betrayed by what I believed in in the end.

The album played until midnight and I came to conclusion that everything's useless and when I hit 31/32 and still be lonely, this is where I should draw a line. First suicide thought of that cursed year. Dad had timing, he came to my room at that exact moment i thought of it, telling me that he's worried because there's no sound coming from my room and it's late. Kinda saving me there while I was crying.

Then came the walk I took with parents, seeing all the couples so happy at early spring. The walk back took an hour, I was crying in public for an hour because of how left out I felt.

Skip ahead a few weeks later, Anja deletes her blog and a few weeks later I get a mail from her friend that she died in her sleep. That started everything.

I kept myself busy with university, even if the semester fucking sucked. I also dived right into obsessive reading, just to keep my thoughts busy and to not let the grief take over me, but skipping ahead to August that helped only so far.

I have to admit, if not "His Sweet Candy" I would go fucking crazy during summer. I had nothing to do besides writing the story and just sitting and doing nothing was out of the question. My thoughts would simply wander to the empty space Anja left and I would cry each day - even tv shows didn't bring me any happiness, I was literally hanging on the last thread of the single thing that kept me happy.

Sure, I kicked myself even more reading Keith's biography, but that book kept me busy as well, but I also look found on the days when I read it.

Come September and another mental breakdown (second and third suicide thought) that carried itself until December - arguments with parents one of which caused me to cry for two days, feeling useless and empty, crying at university, feeling left out by my classmates, PMS kicking me each month, you name it.

And then comes December that makes me so stressed because suddenly every fucking professor wants essays while I have dissertation on my head? Like, excuse fucking you - one of the professors wants a useless 5 pages essay and she wants full reference list on it on 9th of January. You think I started it? HAH, NO! This bitch can go fuck herself. I won't spend my free days on her stupid assignment because she's afraid of the board coming and checking our assignments. OH ALSO, there's one professor that we have an exam with (economy, haha) and she only did two lectures :) I also have the upcoming semester with the worst professors imaginable (and fucking German language because I need to know the words in library profession in German for some reason? Literally, fuck that).

I will fucking kill myself if I have to do Master's Degree. I do not want it, I want to go to a fucking job and forget all about this - and I KNOW that it's possible to work in a library with just a bachelor.

So among all this, here are the only positive things:

writing "His Sweet Candy"

becoming besties with Laura, Sarah, Savannah, Julie

another Julie (bestie) finally visiting me

watching Star Wars

The Who (Keith Moon)

his biography

job practices

writing a lot of fics for Laura and getting a lot of them

seeing Sarah getting better and slowly healing

discovering The Beach Boys, The Jam and The Clash

In big conclusion, fuck this year. I want to move on and hopefully have a better next year.

[timetobeaghost]

The Noah hate mob is so much worse than I thought. Finally saw the story pic going through someone's blog. Cluelessly I had kinda figured a "sticker" is something you can add to your pic, like a filter. And I thought he might have made a dumb sexy pose maybe with a hot dude and put "zionism is sexy" on it. I thought he might have been somewhat douchy and insensitive, because that seemed IC to me, making a dumb post in a serious situation.

But no. He is making a selfie with a friend who seems to be involved in anti-antisemitism activism and wears a (literal, yeah everyone but me knows what a sticker is, I guess) "Hamas is ISIS" sticker, which is a very important message (because people did not use to like islamists cutting off people's heads and raping girls back when it wasn't happening in Israel, maybe they could remember that feeling) and holding Stickers in her hand that apparently read "Zionism is sexy", which is meant to proudly support Israel and Israeli jews, which is healthy and understandable considering it is a reaction to a horrible terror attack on Israel and to a reminder that its very existence in in danger. No, Zionism does NOT mean war! Zionism does NOT mean ethnic cleansing. To say this is antisemitic trash. Jews wanting the tiniest bit of land to live in peace and thrive is the farthest thing from evil. Do you know how many Jews used to live in the Middle East. Do you know where their offspring is now? ISRAEL. And nowhere else because they were ethnically cleansed out of everywhere else.

And no Israel is not perfect, radical settlers and a right wing government supporting them and all that. That needs to be solved. That in no way means Israel's existence and with that Zionism is evil.

Now still those ZiS stickers could be criticized as dumb, I guess. As flippant in a serious matter, but any hate boner can only be explained by antisemitism, and Noah really didn't do shit to deserve anything. And then he was told he should be put in a blender by Hamas. Hamas being a terror organization who really does specialize in slaughtering jews in creative ways. For context.

The only proper reaction is 💯 support for Noah!

If you are part of a hate mob you are those people, oh they had good reasons for their spontaneous anger, I am told. Spoiler alert: history has already decided you suck. And I can guarantee you the Duffer brothers deepest revulsion. No one dreams of appeasing you people! Leave ST fandom and enjoy your jihadism fandom, if that's where your priorities lie.

If you are on the side of: "Yes I know he kinda deserves criticism, but lets not overdo it. Bullying is not nice either", congratulations for being human, but you are the majority Germans in the mid 1930s and you can do better.

Because someone asked me what I say to a 6-year -old Palestinian being murdered in the US, I say this is utterly VILE. It was a crazy, violent murderer's reaction to the terror attack and it is endlessly tragic that this happened. It was not a reaction to solidarity with Israel's people. The pos was reacting to the actual event. Peaceful, loving support for the victims is the antitheses to that. I wanna ask back what you think of hundreds of children being brutally murdered or kidnapped in Israel on October 7th. Can we agree that this shit is utterly vile as well? Can we agree THOSE HOSTAGES NEED TO BE BROUGHT HOME? Btw?

[dootznbootz]

A bit of a weird rant but I feel like people have to stop erasing Odysseus and Penelope's European roots. I'm tired of these extremely americanized versions of GREEK people. Don't get me wrong, I love my Americans! I've got so many got friends over there and there are genuinely great people over there. But in general I've seen Americans, and definitely not just white Americans, are most guilty of this. Europeans are just as culture-filled and beautiful people as Asians and Americans and Africans are, so why is their culture being erased for "representation" purposes? Why is European culture just a blank slate for representation of other cultures. It feels so invaliding, especially with the "White people have no culture trend". Oh, in that case the Italians, Greeks, Slavs, Germanic people, Northern Europeans and so many more just don't matter?? And I'm not talking about casting people of color in films about Greek mythology, no no no, I think that's fine! I'm just saying when adapting Greek Mythology, people should be more thoughtful of Greek culture, traditions, names, and they should have respect for it. At least enough respect to not bash their gods and their history and call it "just a copy of other mythologies" or to call their religious figures stupid names. But nooooo, people don't care because europeans BAD they did everything WRONG their cultures are INVALID and they have plague carrying rats carrying in their dumpsters 🤦 Okay the plague carrying rats joke is actually kinda funny imo but I've seen people making really racist claims about Europeans along those lines. Like holy they're not to blame for something people did 400 years ago?? Tf??

It's absolutely not a weird rant at all, I'm American and even I get frustrated and annoyed by it, I can't imagine how frustrating it is as someone who is Greek and seeing something you hold so dear and love so much becoming something completely different and taking what makes it Greek Mythology no longer feel Greek. ｡:ﾟ(;´∩`;)ﾟ:｡

Like, I literally just saw a post recently (which, ofc, people can post and create what they want... but I also get to complain :3 ) about how they would love to see a Bacchae horror movie done in modern day, (which hgoly shit, yes??? please??) but then talked about it being in RURAL AMERICA!!!

Like, I'm from rural America and I genuinely love it so so much, I love my woods, my rivers, my valleys, my small AF towns, etc. BUT IF SOMETHING IS BASED ON THE BACCHAE, IT SHOULD BE DONE IN GREECE!!! (in my opinion) Greece has plenty of Rural areas where such a film could take place!

Greek Mythology, and many other religion/mythologies as well for that matter, aren't something where I feel like it's necessarily "fine" if you change the background/culture of where it takes place, because that is most likely going to change the entire story! It's not like it's Legend of Zelda or Lord of the Rings where the setting is vaguely medieval and fantasy in nature and therefore one can change it's background/setting and it's not going to change the story too much. These myths are very central to a lot of Greece's history and culture! Changing the culture honestly WILL change the story quite a bit!

And just in general, I hate the whole joke of "The amount of misogyny here is on the level of the Ancient Greeks" and/or the stereotypes and/or just... cruelty?? that some folks have for Greek Mythology?? Or like the fact that it seems that folks will always take any sort of nuanced/complex situation and always assume the worst. ("Agamemon happily killed Iphigenia! Horrible bloodthirsty father!" when y'all, he was a MESS!) Or then making a big deal about affection and touch in Greek Texts, when that's just... that? Affection and touch. Stop looking at these texts with an American Lens!

And even just, like, researching culture and history. ;~; I've literally never been outside the US (money :') ) and while it's hard to research sometimes (I find a lot of shit that's for the perspectives of tourists, which is not what I wannttttt) it's not like it's incredibly hard to add Greek culture and life to retellings/fics!!!

Even some modern stuff and/or stuff that wasn't around during that specific era of History (can't find EVERYTHING if it's over 3000+ years old lol :') ) but slang, mannerisms, dances, etc. can be added! Even if folks DO take liberties with their stories and such, (I do!) you can add lil bits that like, "This is Greece!". It's my goal that if someone who is Greek happens to come across my Fics/headcanons, I hope to at least try to have as often as possible where they can have a "Hey! :D That's something I do!" moment.

And yes! It's sometimes hard with like, what is natural and instinctive to me as an American from rural Wisconsin. I say "y'all" a lot, it's an everyday word for me, (not normal for most Wisconsinites but it's what I personally grew up around) but Greeks don't say that and so I refrain from using it when I have characters talk to one another. BECAUSE IT'S NOT MIDWESTERN AMERICA! IT'S GREECE!!! slkdjfdslk Even if I'm writing in English, it just feels wrong to have them say that! I can't speak or read Greek but I'm still gonna try and stay with what feels true to Greek!

(I once saw a headcanon that started off good, and that I agree with as well, for Odysseus having a different accent from many of his fellow kings as he's from Ithaca (all having different accents based on where they're from but you get the gist) and with him being from small, rural island, people assume him to less well spoken like Antenor did in Book 3 of the Iliad but soon realizing that despite his rural accent that he's incredibly intelligent and cunning. Which yes!!! super fun! But then they said that he'd speak like a Cajun or an Appalachian. He's Ithacan! And would have an Ithacan accent! Rural accents exist in every languageeeee lskdjflj

Like I tend to get silly with historical context and getting subversive with characters and such. I definitely am not historically accurate in many ways and nor do I claim to be. I also tend to play around with the characters in ways that I don't think many others do (whether people enjoy it or not, I'm having fun. You'll have to rip my Water Wife away from my cold, dead hands 😤) but I think it's SUPER important to still have it feel at least a LITTLE like Greece! I'm definitely not perfect in my representation of Greek culture in my characterization and story but I think it's important to at least TRY.

Penelope telling a young Telemachus, "To have his eyes fourteen" as he goes out to play, characters moving hands around a lot when talking (something that's really fun for me as I naturally do that haha), etc. It IS possible to have these little snippets of Greek Culture in stories while still writing your own story and having fun with it!

Small things such as Telemachus, Odysseus, and Laertes doing a Nisiotika together (possibly Odyssseus and Telemachus helping support and steady old man Laertes a bit) as a lil bit of a soft "Three generations finally dancing together"

Did Mycenaean Greece have the same instruments that are often used for these traditional dances nowadays? Nope! They also wouldn't be wearing foustanellas and such, probably tunics or skirts. But it's still something that shows a lil love to GREECE. Something that is showing a little love to its history and current culture in a way. (Yes, I could do it with what is known with the dances of the Mycenaean Era, but the image of all three of them holding hands in a line, Laertes in the center as his son and grandson help support him, all of them smiling and happy. Laertes doing the footwork a little slower but Odysseus and Telemachus don't mind. Penelope laughing as she watches her family being silly together again. like?? lsdkfj It just melts my heart, okay???)

In my opinion, it's kind of like how some folks draw Penelope in a Chiton even though the Odyssey takes place in the Mycenaean era. While she would've had a layered skirt and most likely would have worn her breasts out and painted suns on her cheeks, Penelope is still Penelope even in Chiton because it's still GREEK in nature. She just got with the new fashion trends of later eras💃😂

And okay, I DID read Percy Jackson as a kid and I was really obsessed with it. I know better now (In all honesty, I was mostly attached to the KIDS and the humor) and now I'm like, frustrated with Rick Riordan. He says that he has everything take place in New York because he loves where he grew up so much, when like... THIS IS STILL GREEK! The story mostly emphasizes the whole demigod aspect than the GREEK demigod aspect ;~;

And I'm sorry to say, but Athens exists xD A BIG CITY WITH LOTS OF PEOPLE. Sure, it's still different from New York, as every city has its own culture and stuff but big cities are still big cities! Why couldn't Percy have grown up there??

I mean, I know that I for sure am having fun with putting my own experiences with my writing (Penelope being the youngest sister with so many big brothers (and Iphithime :3 ), I am very much using my own grandpa as some inspiration for Laertes (short, stocky, quiet, stubborn, loves plants, loves his wife and family, etc), I'm making Hector's Horse, Xanthos, a cremello because my horse is a cremello, etc.). I mean, I play a lot with the fact that Penelope has a lot of possible Naiad ancestry as I live near so many rivers, fishing is big in my family, playing in creeks as a kid, and just really loving freshwater settings. It's really fun and self-indulgent for me to have a small Penelope playing the creek and hanging out with her family in the rivers. BUT GREECE HAS RIVERS TOO! The Eurotas River isn't the Mississippi river, but I know that plenty of Greek folks have probably had some of the same experiences that I've had 🥹 And I've genuinely been having a lot of fun researching the natural flora and fauna of Greece for this! :D

I'm all over the place and rambley but lskdjf dsklj I almost feel like some Americans feel like it being ancient Greece makes it as though it is a completely different world and there is no way to still keep it at least somewhat Greek in nature and make it relatable. As though it's impossible for an audience to relate to cultures that aren't their own and time periods from long ago. It's so baffling to me.

[papaver-decervicatus]

Cat/Mouse/Den: Pt. 1, Cat

Alone on wilderness patrol, König’s radio intercepts an enemy transmission meant for a SpecGru sniper. Within a beautiful and capable woman’s crosshair, something electric and treacherous takes root in his heart, and he decides to tempt his doom. It’s a game of cat and mouse, and it’s been far too long since he has had anything worth hunting.

CW: Obsession, stalking, canon typical violence, intrusive thoughts, unsanitary wound care

Authors Note: Huge shout-outs to @kneelingshadowsalome and @sprout-fics for writing some really great fics that inspired me to write this and for being such kind beta readers!

This work is inteded to pass as x reader or x OC in third person POV, German is from google translate, feel free to correct me if you can!

This project started out very small and has definitely spiraled out of control. To all readers, please enjoy and let me know what you think!~ Caedis

Pt. 1, Cat | 1.3k words | König POV | NEXT

“They call you… Maus?” König says into his radio. 

It’s a mistake. That he’s heard the transmission. That he found her position. He’s sure that she sees him, he knows he’s good as dead. 

He’d seen her file in a briefing. Some SpecGru sniper, relatively new to the force. Accolades nothing short of damn impressive but with a general disposition against war. She’s a good rule follower unless she hates the rule and then she tends to do her own thing. Overall, mixed bag, but too useful to refuse. She wouldn’t be on the force if she weren’t some sort of useful. 

Most of what he’d thought was, “Wow, really? That many targets? Seems temperamental. Wish I could’ve been a sniper. Seems much more peaceful.” And then a much quieter, general, passing: “She’s pretty.” 

And that was it, really. When he got moved to solo wilderness patrol, it was Klaus’s idea to give him intel on who he thought would be most likely to be on patrols alone. As the resident wilderness expedition expert, he thought it most reasonable to give König and a few others on similar patrols the basics on her and a few of her comrades. Quite mundane for his line of work, all things considered. 

The irony isn’t lost on him, that him doing the very thing her file warns his upper command about, “doing his own thing,” is what will kill him. He’s out about five miles from where he should be, dangerously far. But, he always had a weakness for the mountains. When he realized his route to do shipment surveillance was close to a ravine, there was no question in his mind that he was going to check it out. 

And it’s got him in a good-looking lady’s sniper scope, right as the sun sets behind her. She’s got a perfect shot. 

What's that silly English phrase? Curiosity killed the cat? 

He smiles about it, though. He’s happy it’s a sniper. Happy it’s a pretty one. 

“You’re not my target.” Is her response. She shouldn’t be able to radio back to him. 

Strange. 

“Not an answer. And who is then?” He quips back into the static, still not quite sure he believes she’s there. Even at every possible disadvantage, this is still his territory, he’s still the king of his little domain, of this minuscule set of battle strip. It’s pathetic, the only place he feels any sort of peace is at war. 

“Negative to both.” 

“Playing hard to get. That’s fine with me.”

He hears her chuckle before she shuts off her end. 

This is… most exhilarating. 

He finds her in the tree line, and he smiles. She’s across the 80-yard-long ravine. There’s a creek at the bottom, and interesting flora marks the cliffs all the way down. He wonders what wildlife drinks from the stream down there and if there are any decent caves he could find an opening to. If any could fit him, that would be. She’s found a good post, in the branches of an inconspicuous tree. That’s right, she specialized in tree climbing and tracking if he remembers her file well enough. It’s a pretty perch, no wonder she chose it. 

A younger part of him is jealous. The older part smothers that part down as he takes in the view. 

The sun is setting behind her. She’s very far away, but his skin prickles to life knowing that he’s being watched. The exposed rock of the ravine flames to life with amazing browns and reds, and the stone sparkles like rubies and tiger’s eye stones as the sun's rays catch it. 

It’s a beautiful place, really. It’s not such a bad place to die, he thinks. She’s a good shot. She’ll do it quickly. Nothing to fret about, really. It’s his own fault, anyways. 

He knows if he runs to or from her, he’s dead. So he stands still. 

Waiting. 

For what?

He doesn’t know. A fairy tale? An Angel? A sign from God? His own comms? The common sense to radio his own and tell them about the fucking sniper in the tree?

He doesn’t know. 

So he waits for her to make the first move. 

“If you turn tail,” She warns, his radio crackling to life, “I won’t shoot.”

He’s going to die, might as well have some fun at it. 

“I will- if you tell me why they call you Maus.” His accent lingers on the word, just about the same in Deutsch as it is in English. Maybe that’s where the Brits got the word from in the first place? Some Germanic mountain peoples from long, long, long ago? 

He can’t see her in detail, she’s much too far. But with his hazy memory of her file, he imagines her face contorted in with the effort of deciding what to do. He thinks of her blowing a loose strand of hair out of her face. He thinks about her flexing her fingers around, but not squeezing, the trigger. 

She seems to chew her lip on this one. He already knows her code name, it’ll do very little good or bad for him to know just why. 

“I’ll bite, soldier.” She says, hurriedly, like someone might walk in on their little game. Like the teacher is about to find the two kissing in a supply closet at the school. Like she knows this is bordering dangerously close to bloody. 

“Quid pro quo?” She asks. 

It’s not a no. 

He smiles. His cheeks get red as they flick upwards in a grin of pure giddiness. What a fun way to die. Playing a silly little game like this? Fantastic!

“I think you know.”

“König?”

“Ja.” To his delight, her accent scraping its way around his call sign, the only name he cares about at this point, isn’t half bad. Being so seen on the battlefield should make his chest tighten, but not quite like this. It’s wrong, but then again he actually enjoys war so maybe he’s never quite been right, either. 

“Why?”

It’s his turn to laugh and rush out a response. He sits down on the ground and opens his legs as wide as they’ll comfortably go and rests his cheek in his hand propped on his thigh. If he’s going to die, he’s going to give her a pretty show. He’s going to die comfortably lazing around like a cat on a windowsill, taunting the stray tabby outside who so desperately wants to claw him to death. 

“You first, Schatz,” he downright purrs into his mic. He’s no fool, if he could see her up close, he would not be flirting with disaster like he is currently. 

He can’t see her, she’s much too far away, but he imagines her chest constricting beautifully and her biting her lip. He imagines her lips pressed into a thin line while she claws into her upper arm, trying to regain control. Like it’s all a silly game. And, maybe it is.

Cat and mouse. 

He likes the sound of that. 

Her voice returns to him, low and slow like she’s dragging her tongue over every syllable like she’s trying honest-to-goodness to taste him. 

“Maybe next time, König.” 

He can hear the smile in her voice. Maybe she’s enjoying the game, too?

A shot rings out, and his blood whistles and boils. It hits the tree 6 feet to his left at exact head height. His ears start to ring, but he’s entirely unharmed as birch bark splinters around him. 

“Position compromised, moving.” Is what she radios to her command. 

“Rog, Mouse.” Command calls back. 

He sees movement from her position, but he knows she’s much too far for him to get to her in time. He laughs bright and loud and gets himself up off the ground. 

“Nächests mal, kleine Mäuschen.” Next time, little mouse. He says, to no one in particular. It’s been a long while since König has had so much fun like this on the battlefield. At a genuine disadvantage, put into a position that size and strength alone won’t remedy. And he’s sure as hell not ruining it by telling anyone, no matter how dangerous that is. 

A game of cat and mouse? 

Good. 

It’s been far too long since he had something worth hunting.

[practicedvmm13fullofpotatoes]

Uhm. Have a note I made whilst sleep deprived a few like.. weeks ago

Yes, I did edit it. A lot

Favorite longform characters because I can't sleep

(LONG POST!! ↓)

Father Andrews

A Christian with Buddhist beliefs? Normal AJ shenanigans. No but tell me a time where he hasn't mixed two things together, confusing the crowd and the other guys.

I'll wait.

Alexa

Look, Tom characters always have my heart, soul and wallet, okay? Alexa is just so :) I love her :)

Don Cicicio

Was torn between the two Tom characters. I absolutely adore Jimmy but ough Don Cicicio my beloved... He's so morally wrong but he's so silly I love him. Fucking indirectly liked AJ's head.. So silly.. So evil..

André Betroot (+ his tutu wearing assistant)

The only reccuring character I can think of. He's so iconic that he just materialized into a different play. I'm his biggest fan I adore him so much!! (Somerset Beetroots! & Bobsleigh Bobsleigh! have been stuck in my brain to the point where I have to blurt it out every time I remember it and I blame Luke for that)

Witch Finder General

I don't make the rules. The one with the most lines that end up stuck in my brain becomes my favorite. I love WFG so so so much he's so so so silly yet so so so morally questionable.

Inga

Became my favorite because she knows what to do with wolves and is the only character I can think of that isn't German in this play. Her different accent gave me mild whiplash and I love that.

Mary

WOMEN IN STEM!! LOOK I DON'T MAKE THE RULES. THE MOMENT A CHARACTER IS MY TYPE IS THE MOMENT THEY BECOME MY FAVORITE (+ she also has the most lines I have ingrained in my brain). I LOVE MARY SO SO SO SOOOO MUCH!!

Mario The Sheep

Again, the moment a character has the most lines stuck in my brain is the favorite. Mario has me baa-ing almost every time I talk. I blame him for all the weird looks my mom gives me when I go "🐑Inbred?🐑"

Philip + Derek

Philip spoke one time, never appeared again. I love other assistant Philip so much. That one audience member has my wallet because I willingly gave it to them. But of course, assistant Derek has my heart. Love the Woodmans so so much.

Troll Mother

Obvious pick was Troll Son BUT I love Troll Mother purely because she appeared twice and only spoke in one of those appearances.

Juliet

Obvious pick. I love homocidal women who are pretty :) She's just so :)

Sherlock Holmes

Shirley Houses is my favorite detective!! Or was it Sherry Lots? Uh... BASTA!! THEM!! MY FAVORITE!! That's all :)

Priscilla's Mother

I forgot her name but I love her so much. DO NOT INSULT HER STAGECRAFT!! She's doing her best :) But anyways, most lines remembered = favorite :)

Marty jr.

First character that I've thought about for hours after watching the play, probably because TEMAWK is the first play I finished. So so chaotic and so so homicidal. I love that little bastard :)

Derek

The way I went "DEREK SPOTTED!!" when he was introduced should be concerning. No but he's so silly and I love him. We love a man that isn't toxic like his best mate is :)

Justin Willoughby

I already put André so!! More Tom characters!! Justin is coping terribly and I want to give him a hug for it. He's just so :( I love him so so so much :( My poor boy :(

Peter Steven

This is the 10th Tom character on the list. There are currently 16 characters as of writing this. I'm not sure if I just love Tom or just really love Tom. Anyways, FREE MY MANS!!! HE JJST WANTS TO PLAY OUTSIDE AND BE A HEALTHY CHILD :((

Johnny + Janae

Look, I know this is supposed to be favorite character and not favorite characterS but.. I love both of them so so so much they're my bebes.. You cannot have one without the other and you cannot convince me otherwise. They're just so me-core I lav them :)

Mrs. Xavier

Certified 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴 seven days a week </3 She just put the thought of her child fucking her other child's husband in her mind, let the chaos happen, and then just took the thought back in her own because "it's good".

James James

He's like. The only character I genuinely remember from The Prime Minister's First Day (I definitely need to rewatch this one) but he's just so sillaye I love him.

Theresa May

Important character that knows how to defeat the antagonist, dies immediately. I don't know why but a character being introduced as important but then dies almost immediately is so funny to me and bumps them up to favorite character status.

That one person who scrum

Genuinely the only thing I remembered from The Ingredients is the scene where Sam just SCREAMS.

Marie-Claire

Was only mentioned, but Cliff and Chip talking about her death immediately shot her up to favorite character status. No but the idea of her just going "wee!!" when she threw herself off a cliff, while depressing, is incredibly funny to me.

Persephone

ANOTHER Tom character. I'm so so sorry but I love Tom so so much he's just so good at any role he assumes and just.... Persephone is not an exception to this.

Fullset O'Hands (+ Caravan Hutch... Or is his name Lots?)

Okay. These two freaks are just so :3 I'M SORRY BUT YOU CAN'T JUST GIVE ME TWO WEIRDOS AND EXPECT ME TO BE NORMAL ABOUT THEM. THEY'RE SO ME-CORE I LOVE THEM SO SO MUCH.

Andrew

SAVE MY BOY!!! HE DID NOTHING WRONG!!! HE WAS JUST A BIT EAGER!!! FREE HIM!!!

Magnus O'puss

Don't give me Tom playing a character like THIS and expect me to act normally. I'm sorry but sometimes I can't tell if I want to be them or if I want them. Tom playing the fandom's queer icon definitely makes it harder for me to decide.

Pointy

Again, you cannot give me a weirdo and expect me to be okay about it. He's just so :) I lav him :)

Scottish Batman

YOU DON'T TELL SCOTTISH BATMAN TO FUCK OFF!! HE IS THE NIGHT!!! HE IS VENGEANCE INCARNATE!!!!

That fucking kid

I'm sorry but that little "Rapier!! :D" got me. WHY ARE TOM'S KID CHARACTERS SO :3 YET SO D: I'M SOBBING ON THE FLOOR HE CAN'T DO THIS TO ME

The barkeep

"Be careful™". That's. That's all. That's all you need to know (PS. The way he fucking fell omfg)

The French kraken

It's uh. The only character I can remember at the moment so uh. Half-mime half-giant octopus my beloved 🛐

The blond dog

Again, only "character" I can rember atm. Luke was 100% going for horse. Nooo noo, that's blond dog 👍 (was this even in this play? i don't know)

D.I Mannering

You can't just give me a character that goes against their sibling and ends up killing them because they're on opposing sides and expect me NOT to imagine terrible tragedies happening

The witches

Fucking freaks. Absolute weirdos. I love them mfs </3

Amanda

I don't really remember this play but I remember really liking Amanda for some reason

Don Juan's wife

I forgot her name but I LOVE HER SO MUCH RGHHSSGHD. She just slays so much ough.......

Xavier

The obvious choice. 19th Tom character on the list btw. Anyways. C'est Xavier!! C'est Xavier!! Aaaaaah!! *fains cutely*

[velvetures]

May I RQ a reader who is trying to learn their language to help them feel more comfortable, but feels insecure due to them not really being fluent? They mispronounce and misuse the slangs in context, but hopes they can make the boys see the effort they are trying to go through for them.

Lessons In Miscommunication

A/N: Hi doll, I hope you don't mind me using König for this one. I've got a lot of experience with Spanish irl, but that's not super applicable here, haha. To anyone who's German... please forgive me. 🤍 Summary: You're on comms during a mission getting a small lesson in König's language while waiting for your next orders from HQ. Things get complicated, and there's a language and culture barrier that makes things... challenging. T/W: canonical warfare, cursing, non-fluent use of German, flirting, feelings, and some other stuff probably. Not proofread, as always.

To put it simply, you didn't expect just how difficult it would be to learn a new language in your twenties. Sure the science spoke to the provable trouble you would have compared to a much younger version of yourself, but for all meaningful purposes, you really didn't think it would be this nuanced. And while Spanish, French, and other languages were of great importance, there wasn't anyone who could teach you those. The one person around was König, and he spoke German.

When you'd approached the topic nearly eight months ago, he'd been honestly shocked and surprised that you'd come to him in the first place and secondly that you thought he would be a good teacher. He was often thought of as reliable as a Colonel, but giving you suitable enough tutoring in German to be conversational was nothing short of uncharted territory for the pair of you. This made for very interesting moments in and outside of missions as well as a few times where it would've been better if you'd used an online app or something to keep from unintentionally embarrassing yourself.

Posted almost two miles away from the Colonel on a rocky outcropping overlooking a small encampment of a radical terrorist group, you laid on the hillside with a rifle and radio trying to pass the time between now and when you'd get the call to secure the site. The men and women down below were only one small stop-off point for a far larger caravan of armored trucks and a few tanks carrying supplies and weaponry toward the closest city of Almazra. It was a threat that couldn't come to fruition if the buildings and people still living there were to be left standing by the end of the week.

On the other end of the two-mile distance was König and a selected squad of men who were waiting just as impatiently as you were to not only get this mission over with but to get out of the damn desert heat. For security's sake, you knew you should be keeping the airways clear for any kind of information about the insurgent's movements, but König had insisted that this would be a perfect opportunity for you to get some practice in without losing focus of the task at hand. Your job at the moment was to keep eyes on the encampment through the lens of your sniper rifle and report anything that looked to be of importance.

König's definition of what was important could be easily debatable, yet it did ensure that you could make simple connections between real-world objects and the German words or phrases that matched. Whether or not the Colonel realized it or not, both of you had slightly gotten off the target of what you were supposed to be talking about and wandered into the more... personal aspects of things. Specifically just how bad you wanted to be home after nearly a full month away from American soil and your personal home.

"Ich habe für immer Fernweh," Your accent was certainly progressing, at least in the Colonel's mind, but he wasn't quite sure exactly what you meant by that.

"Was meinst du damit? Kannst du es dieses Mal auf Englisch sagen?"

His voice sounded a little confused and more than a tinge humored at the way you'd sounded so... formal. Even diplomatic to a degree. It was one of the more difficult parts of teaching you. Dialects, slang, and even simple English-to-German translations didn't always have a very direct or clear answer. Often it meant that you would say something with full intention and innocent honesty, and König would have to keep himself from chuckling. Most of the men he worked alongside didn't speak for one reason or another, so getting to hear at least one person -especially you- made the near and far miscommunication more than worth the effort.

Looking through your scope at a group of five sitting around a small fire, you sigh a bit, trying to think of how to explain yourself.

"I meant I'm feeling homesick," You mutter a little more quietly than necessary, almost as if saying it in English was broadcasting your secret while German somehow kept it from being found out. "What did you hear me say?"

König chuckled, his laugh vibrating in the speakers of your comm quite nicely. "You said you have wanderlust forever," You could hear him smiling from the other end. "It's okay, sometimes the words don't always mean exactly what you think they do. I had the same problem when I learned English." For a moment he paused, laughing softly again. "I still can't say Squirrel... properly."

"Vielleicht habe ich doch Lust auf etwas..." You mutter a bit frustrated and somewhat skarkily under your breath, making a small jab at wordplay not thinking that König could hear you over the radio or that he'd be more shocked to hear you say such a thing.

The radio stays silent for a long few minutes, almost tricking you into believing that you'd been safe in making your comment under your breath without any audible witnesses. Only on the other end, the Colonel was struggling between the actual meaning behind your words, the way it sounded so damn sexy... and how he was supposed to actually answer you without sounding too affected by something as simple as your voice.

"Se-Sergeant..." His voice sounded a little weak, much in the same way it did when he was in an uncomfortable social situation. "What did you just say?"

Instantly your body tensed up from fingers to toes and you felt a shock of heat roll through you. König heard you. Right away you assumed by the growl in his question that you were going to be in for some kind of punishment. Maybe even a good ass-chewing in front of the rest of the squad for saying something so easily considered lewd and totally unprofessional to utter in the presence of a superior officer. Your best bet was apologizing, and hoping he'd just let it go...

"I'm sorry, I was just frustrated and-"

His voice deepens over the radio, almost like he's got it pressed right up against his mouth. "Say it again." The command felt heavy in your stomach. "Now."

You repeated the phrase, staring through the lens of your scope with bated breath. waiting to hear what the Colonel would say in response. And the last thing you expected was to hear an almost pained sort of growling sound vibrating in your ears. It made you shiver and despite König being almost two miles away, it felt like he was breathing down your neck.

"Du klingst so hübsch, wenn du das sagst..." A noticeable static over the radio took your attention, but when it didn't get worse you had the mental capacity to translate what König said word by word until you had the full sentence running through your head.

The time between his praise and your response was nearly indistinguishable between seconds and years. Had it not been for you watching your targets moving in real-time through your scope, you would've thought the whole world had come to a stuttering halt in anticipation of your response. Yet it seemed that the world still had to do other important things which included bringing the key turning point of this mission right to your front door with the sudden sound of an approaching squad tailing the convoy of insurgents giving information and callouts for how to proceed forward. Of those, orders for König and his men to begin working down the side of the mountain to intercept the meeting of the convoy and the small ground sitting in tents around a high-burning fire.

"Ich werde später herausfinden, wie hübsch man klingen kann, wenn man schmutzige Dinge auf Deutsch sagt." The Colonel's voice growled lowly, almost threatening in a sense.

There was no telling what would happen after the mission ended and there wasn't a threat of being shot or failing to secure Almazra. What you could count on was König finding you and testing out his theory of all the things you could say in his language they may or may not have been provocative - on purpose or not. Something in your body shivered in delightful nervousness and anticipation of just how he planned on getting that kind of information out of you. A couple of ideas swirled in your mind, but the movement of the incoming convoy didn't allow you the luxury of daydreaming about your Colonel or how your mistaken words and German lessons had landed you here.

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