#are you still here? did you go to poland?

[comradesnufkin]

.

[gremlingottoosilly]

Lovefool [dark!Konig x fem!Reader]

Konig gets to secure a little trophy from the battlefield. Hope you're in for a ride.

!TW! Kidnapping, Yandere themes, Dub-con, dark!Konig

Tags: Yandere, Dark Romance, colonel!Konig, dark!Konig, Size kink, Age gap(Konig in his thirties and Reader is in her twenties), Stockholm syndrome speedrun, Konig is a huge pervert, submissive Reader

You never knew who he was before he attacked.

Your teammates did – whisperers about KorTac getting on their tails, stories about their crazy psycho commander who could barely pass a word to his subordinates while smacking heads off trained men in full armor. Spooky tails for the recruits who refuse to train in their free time – something about “If you aren’t getting in shape by the end of the month, König is going to get you”.

You never knew who he was – you barely knew the organization you worked in.

Cyber security, lowly private military. They are hiring based on CV alone and didn’t ask for a fancy college and a few degrees in hacking that you could never get. They wanted experience, and you had at least a bit of it – you passed through basic training, never serving in the military before, but fine with promises of never actually going out in the field since you would be giving them intel and cyber support from the sidelines.

Well, they never told you that “the sidelines” would be 100 meters away from the actual battlefield.

You don’t even remember what the mission was about – something important, you guess, because they asked you to be here, on sight, computer in hand, and your comrades, with whom you barely talked outside of work, alongside you. Something about weapon smuggling, though you never actually understood if you were stopping it or doing it. Working in the middle of the European Union pays a lot, and it sort of counts as free travel – you’re somewhere in Germany, maybe on the border with Poland or Austria or Czech Republic. Nothing but fields of grass and occasional mountains. They gave you a riffle, a sidearm, and instructions to try not to get too wounded since they wouldn’t be dragging your body out of the field. S[read sheet with intel opened on your computer – you’re not their secretary, but at least they don’t want you to hack the Pentagon.

You heard screams from your tent: “KorTac”, “Compromised”

“König”

What was the weirdest thing – he was alone. A single man shouldn’t be able to take on a team of trained mercs, even as lowly as your company was. You all had weapons, armor, and means of at least taking him down as a group – and you were like a bunch of babies with toy guns on the playground when a pitbull came in.

Your leader fell first – you saw his head explode with a perfect shot right between his eyes. no one screamed sniper, but you still ducked under the field table, hoping that it would save you a few minutes of peace before you’d manage to delete all of the important files from your laptop. This was the protocol – if you are in the middle of dying, you need to first make sure that the enemy won’t get a hold of precious company correspondence and deeply personal photos of your cat.

You leaned forward to see what was happening on the field – you heard screams, you heard gunshots, you heard…

Laugh.

Deep, loud, the laugh that sounded both malicious and cheerful at the same time. It sounded like the man had a field day of breaking necks and stabbing his teammates. You've never seen so much blood on someone. You wish you never had.

Your teammates are falling like porcelain dolls when the elephant hits the kitchen, and you are trying your best to be a good little hacker and not let your company down before your inevitable demise. Turning on your laptop, waiting for whatever ancient version of Windows you had since the budget was mostly going into flashy guns and cool night vision headsets, you are getting ready to format all the disks when….

“The Windows update is in the process. Please, wait approximately 9 hours to complete”

Oh, hell no. You are not going to wait another 9 hours, you could barely survive for the next 9 minutes! Of course, naturally, obviously, you can just turn off the computer and get it off work because the files will get fried up and it won’t turn on again, ever. Which would still complete your goals, so…

— Come on, please…f-fuck, please, just let me…

“As a method of complete data loss prevention, Windows has disabled the ability to manually turn off your computer. Please, wait approximately 9 hours to complete”

— Found you, Maus.

Something – a hand, big, covered in the type of protection you never saw on your fellow soldiers – yanked your ankle, dragging you from under the table you were hiding under. The air stinks of blood and you involuntarily whimper, hands are going to grab the laptop. You need to smash it, destroy it, maybe just drop it hard enough on the floor, push it against the wall, and try your best to kick it enough to damage the disk and prevent KorTac from accessing the files.

The guy steps on your hand, taking the laptop away. You swear to god you hear a crack – you prayed that he would accidentally smash the laptop, but it was your hand under his boot.

— Hurts? Good.

You whimper as he carefully puts the laptop away, checking if it’s still working. He then returns to you – laying on the floor, fingers still shaking in pain, and attempts to grasp for the computer that was snatched away. There is nothing you can do – you have a gun, yes, and he has at least three guns and deadly man-bear hands, so even if you were fast enough to draw a gun before he would, he can just kick you like a puppy.

König – it’s him, it must be him, your teammates were screaming his callsign and talking about a devil who wears a sniper hood and has the height of a not very small tree – kicks you in the ribs, turning you from the side to your back, facing him. If you were stronger, you would do something cool – bite his ankles, for example. Or spit in his face as the last remaining tip of your dignity, before he would kill you or torture you or feast on your flesh.

— Verdammte Feiglinge, can’t even face your death like a man. Look at me, ja?

Crying isn’t a shameful thing to do. So, you cry. Soft little whimpers, sniffles, you are probably looking wet and disgusting, but you hurt, scared, and fucking tired and you want out of here, and you never actually wanted to be a soldier, and they all lied to you while promising to keep you out of the field, and this uniform is horrible, and you feel your tears soaking the half of bandana you were using as a face mask and…

He snatches the mask from your face. Look you in the eyes for long enough to make your whimpers even more audible. You can swear to god that his pupils were dilated. That his hands were shaking. You could see his eyes getting scrunched in that particular way that their owner is smiling – sincerely, openly, from the bottom of his heart.

— Please…p-please, be fast, I don’t know anything, I will…I won’t, I…

Rough, calloused hand goes to cup your face. The material of his glove is tough and soaked in blood as he smears it on your cheek, your fingers are going to wipe away the tears – you don’t understand what’s happening and you are even more scared, and your mouth is twitching in a terrified grimace. He pushes the tip of his finger into your mouth, making you suck on the blood and dirt of the fabric. You think you are going to throw up.

— Quiet.

You don’t understand why he didn’t kill you yet. He is touching your face, slowly, his one hand is enough to cover your entire head and you’re sure that if he’d want to just squish your brain like a rotten cabbage, he could just fine. He pushes his finger even deeper in your mouth and you lick it involuntarily because this is an intrusion and you have the brain of a two-year-old who sees the world through their ability to devour things, and his pupils dilate even more. He looks at your frown, your tears, and your lips wrapped around his finger.

He yanks you on your feet embarrassingly easy.

— You’re a hacker?

You blink a few times. Now, the protocol is that no, you can’t state who you are, If he knows that you are a hacker, he can take you away for interrogation, maybe torture you for passwords and the intel on your company, and being tortured isn’t something on your monthly calendar. Now, the protocol also states that you have to be able to die for your company, and…

He grabs your neck, lifting you – surprisingly gently, softly even, a hand supports your waist so you won’t be able to either kick him or get choked to death because of his grip.

— Answer me, Maus. I might have a reason to let you live.

You do want to live. Maybe not long, definitely not until you’re 100 years old with dozens of grandchildren, but being able to live past the next few hours and then days and then weeks does sound incredible.

— Y…yes. I’m a cyber security specialist.

He squeezes your neck more. Pushes you up, making you cough in your grip. You never experienced anything like this before – never had a guy strong enough to handle you like this. It would look cool from the side, probably – like something from a videogame. It would look hot in the porn, probably, if it was consensual and happening between two passionate lovers.

But you are his enemy, and he is yours – cold blue eyes peering right into yours. He is looking at you like a piece of meat, and not even in the lustful, hungry way. He looks like a butcher in front of a very good beef cut, thinking about where should he sink his knife to get the best steaks. A hunter standing over the wounded deer, thinking if he wants your head above his fireplace or taxidermy your whole body as a wicked trophy.

— Didn’t know they’d allowed someone so fucking small in the field.

You can swear to god that you saw him smile, under this hood. You can’t see his face, obviously, only the blood-soaked fabric and his eyes, but something still tells you that he is smiling. Enjoying your attempts to escape, maybe – you tried to kick him a few times, producing a deep, amused chuckle from his lips. He holds you so easily like you are nothing but a sweet little kitten. You might not be as big as him, but he still shouldn’t be able to lift a grown woman in full gear with just one hand. Right?

— I’m not…not s-small.

You don’t have much fight left in you. You are on the verge of just asking him to kill you, to be honest, your neck hurts and the pain spreading from your fingers pulsates and transforms. You hope they are not broken – even though you understand that your chances to live past these few minutes are very slim. Even your usual snark is lost, forbidden in the hands of a giant who likes to play with his food.

You do feel like a mouse – in a way that you would die under his boot very soon.

He – König, monster, colonel, fucking deadly mercenary – chuckles again. You can get used to this sound. Melodic almost, in a way that most alarms are melodic while telling you about inevitable catastrophe.

— Kleine verfickte Maus. Ich wette, dass du auch ganz eng bist.

He is laughing, again. Laughing and chuckling and you can’t take it anymore because he is so obviously stronger than you, it’s not fair. You want to put your foot on the ground and tap it like a spoiled brat, like a baby on the playground whining for their mom to take them home because other kids don’t want to play by their rules. The difference in skill is so obvious, that you aren’t even able to put on some sort of fight.

— Wh…I don’t speak German.

Your other hand – the one that didn’t get squished under his boot – goes to scratch his arm. Maybe put up enough struggle that he would accidentally let you fall right from his grasp. He doesn’t react and you feel hopeless. Weak, useless, you remember all the times you decided to miss training so you could just chill in the lounge with other rookies or do something on your computer.

— You will, Maus.

Then, there is only darkness.

***

You woke up…somewhere.

Come to think of it, it wasn’t the first time you woke up. You remember opening your eyes, feeling the vibrations under your cheek, hearing the noises of a car or other vehicle moving fast. Too fast for your already spinning head and stomach – you don’t remember if you were coughing or vomiting, but the movement wasn’t stopping to ever let you breathe. You were being transported somewhere, without a chance of knowing where you were heading. At least now, when you get to the final, as you think at least, destination, you’re clean.

As much as someone tied up to a chair somewhere that reminds you of a basement can be.

You’re stripped of your weapons obviously – not like you had a chance to use them anyway. Your hands are tied behind your back, your legs are bound to a chair, and your tragic lack of clothes is…more evident than you wanted it to be. At least you still have your underwear on – it still didn’t make the situation better. He saw you naked, completely, and he might do god knows what with you now.

Although you have some feelings about what he can do with a weak enemy hacker, half-naked and tied up in a secure place.

You would panic, but it requires energy. A resource that you don’t have right now.

— You woke up. Gut. Started to think I went too much again.

His accent is weird, you think. The thought only occurs to you now, when you can hear him more clearly while not being that afraid of getting out of this alive. His voice is weirdly calm for someone of his size – you want to think of gentle giants but this man is far from gentle and is almost too big to even be called a giant. A colossus, you want to say.

— Again?

Your voice is raspy, both from your sleep and from lack of water. When was the last time you drank anything? Probably more than a few hours – your throat is dry as sandpaper, and your head is dizzy from both your trauma – he either strangled you to unconsciousness or beat you hard enough – and the dehydration. You don’t want to spend another minute in this basement – you think this is a basement, at least, the high humidity on the walls and some garbage tossed to the corner is fairly evident. It’s large, too – you never saw anything like this. It might be a KorTac prison, but the remains of a bike and a few shelves of canned foods tossed to the other side of the room tell otherwise.

— We’re allowed to take trophies home. Sometimes I get…impatient.

You’re in his house? Does a monster like him even need a house?

“A trophy”

Funny how you don’t even feel that dehumanized. He didn’t kill you, you don’t feel the evidence of violation on your body – you are clean, neat even, your stomach and private parts aren’t hurting, and, as much as you hate to say this while tied up to a chair, you are as comfortable as a person in your position can be.

— What are you going to do with me?

You shake like a leaf. He finally steps closer to you, coming from the ladder – you can hear the lock and a heavy door being closed, setting your hopes of escape. Not like you could, in your position – the bruises already forming on your legs and hands, a numbed pain in your head and fingers. You feel shitty and comfortable at the same time, trying to tune off the discomfort and just concentrate on talking to him.

He didn’t kill you – this is good, you can work with this.

He left you alive – this is bad, he is going to torture you, he is going to do a million terrible things with you and you are not a part of a regular army, You didn’t get the torture resistance training. Maybe, if it was some of your friends, other girls in the group who got through military school and never missed gym to sit on their computers, they would have survived. You never felt so weak before – not even on the battlefield.

God, you’re scared.

— Your computer. My employer needs the info you had on it.

Oh.

It’s not personal, at least. He is here for the information, not to take advantage of your weak, fragile body. It made you almost feel at peace, almost made you forget about your lack of clothing and the damp basement you’re being put in.

— What sort of info do you need?

You slowly start to wiggle your hands in your binds – he used plastic locks, those stupid unremovable things that are slowly cutting the soft flesh of your wrists. You can’t untie them, but you can try at least tear them on the metal of your chair. You can try to, just to say that you did, and not feel bad about not resisting him at all.

— Your last mission. You were trying to smuggle weapons into the EU border.

— We were trying to stop the smuggling of weapons.

At least, you think you were – your head hurts, your memories are dizzy, and they never actually told you what kind of job you had. Come to think of it, actually, you never asked whether you were the good guys or the bad guys – it was always about money, paychecks, getting your job done and not dying from lack of nutrition because most tech-jokey jobs are already filled with uninspired chatbots and graduates from fancy colleges with a dick between their legs. Not reserved for tired women like you – so you turn to, ironically, paramilitary organizations. How the tables have turned.

— That’s not what our intel says, Maus. Do you want to lie to me?

You don’t. You just don’t know if you are telling the truth or lying because you are too fucking tired to even think straight.

He comes closer, and you whimper involuntarily. His breath hitches.

— Scheisse…they knew who to hire.

He grabs you by the neck again, and you can finally see him fully – towering over you, cold blue eyes staring right into you. You sob, not able to handle your emotions because, oh god, he is going to rape you, torture you, and then put a giant burning stick right in your ass because everyone knows that this is the best way to hack a computer – you just need to find the person who put the password in the first place.

— Can’t you just hack the computer yourself?

He chuckles – you’re getting tired of that sound. You hate that you found his voice attractive, you hate the fact he is keeping you down here. You want to destroy that part of your body that likes the attention – how his eyes are only kept on you. Never had a guy kidnapping you before, and you fight the feeling of disappointment that strikes you when you remember that he is here because he needs the intel. Not because he wants you.

— It wasn’t a…conventional operation. Can’t waste manpower on breaking the walls you installed.

His hand goes to cup your face again – you frown, breathing stops because he is so close and he takes off his gloves, allowing his rough, calloused fingers to linger on your cheeks. He squeezes your face in an almost adorable manner and steps back again. You lick your dry lips again, trying hard to keep at least one part of your body moisturized, and his breath hitches again.

He goes behind you, ruffles through shelves – you can hear something falling, his awkward grunt as he had to pick it up. He is more clumsy than you though – more nervous also, hands are jittering and fingers twitching every time you look at him. Adorable, really, how this huge mess of a man can look so innocent and almost nervous in front of you.

König returns after a minute or two, holding…a water bottle. Closed, lid still on, little plastic wrapping in place. You have half a mind about just drinking it, even though he doesn’t offer it to you. Not like you could open it yourself, with how your hands are still tied up behind your back.

— You don’t speak German.

It’s not a question – it’s a statement. you watch him opening the bottle with ease, large hands are working on something so fragile and delicate. You can’t remember the last time you had sex, not with how fast your head is spinning and memories still foggy, but you think it was a long time ago – because you feel your cheeks heated from the simple actions of his large fingers ripping through soft plastic.

God, you don’t really remember what was happening before you got here, not in detail, but you know that you needed to get laid like, a year ago.

— No.

— You will.

— Wh…what do you mean?

Is he going to make you install Duolingo? Is this what it all was about? Some elaborate prank, a marketing campaign, a tough lesson for silly girls who think that knowing just your native language is enough to live your life and…

— When you want something, Maus, you have to say “bitte”.

If you were a strong and cool soldier, you would use this moment to jump from your chair, using the weight of your body to fall on him and make him lose balance, and then spit in his face as your last remaining blast of human dignity.

But you aren’t a cool and strong soldier, and you really need to drink.

— B…bitte. What does this mean?

— Please.

He is almost whispering, the water bottle tanging in his hands in front of you. You take your time, considering the possibilities – you can play like a good little prisoner and allow him to take your pride and just toss it aside. You can play like an obedient hostage and ask him nicely, hoping that it would be enough.

You don’t know what to do – appearing too shy and soft can give him…ideas. And you don’t want this crazed giant who is keeping you bound in his basement to get ideas. You can…you probably can spend more time without water. Or food. Or shower and change of position.

You take your time answering, and his demeanor seems almost…anxious. His eyes are darting between the water bottle and your face, between his hands and your body – like he can barely keep a calm facade and not force you into doing something nasty. Like he is almost afraid that you are not going to cooperate and he would really have to hurt you in a meaningful way.

— Can I have water, bitte?

— Gutes Kätzchen. Drink, you’ll need it.

In the end, you broke down first. Not because you are this weak, but because being a brat won’t save you in a situation like this. You don’t want to die over something as trivial as your pride.

König seems…at ease. He takes off the bottle cap and brings water to your lips, allowing you to drink as much as you want. You lick the remaining drops from your lips and he puts a half-empty bottle aside.

— I won’t tell you the password.

You mumble under your breath, barely audible. He chuckles.

— I count on it, liebe.

[blekitnyzamek]

Illustrations from "Blue Castle"

In Poland we have 5 translations of "Blue Castle" (and in the 1st one Valancy is not named Valancy but Joanna (Joanne); and I think it's funny enough to dedicate separate post about that in the future) and one of them has such a magical illustrations, that I need to share them <3

All of them are from this edition of "The Blue Castle"/"Błękitny zamek" (which was translated by Jolanta Bartosik) and were drawn by Katarzyna Karina Chmiel. Cover too, just look at it! I love this artstyle.

I will add quotes adjacent to the illustrations above them. That one is on title-page, gorgeous<3

Valancy went home by the short-cut of Lover’s Lane. She did not often go through Lover’s Lane—but it was getting near supper-time and it would never do to be late. Lover’s Lane wound back of the village, under great elms and maples, and deserved its name. It was hard to go there at any time and not find some canoodling couple—or young girls in pairs, arms intertwined, earnestly talking over their little secrets. Valancy didn’t know which made her feel more self-conscious and uncomfortable.

She [Valancy] had flatly refused to take either Purple Pills or Redfern’s Bitters. She had announced coolly that she did not intend to answer to the name of “Doss” any longer. She had told Cousin Stickles that she wished she would give up wearing that brooch with Cousin Artemas Stickles’ hair in it. She had moved her bed in her room to the opposite corner. She had read Magic of Wings Sunday afternoon. When Cousin Stickles had rebuked her Valancy had said indifferently, “Oh, I forgot it was Sunday”—and had gone on reading it.

Cousin Stickles had seen a terrible thing—she had caught Valancy sliding down the bannister. Cousin Stickles did not tell Mrs. Frederick this—poor Amelia was worried enough as it was.

Valancy had walked out to Roaring Abel’s house on the Mistawis road under a sky of purple and amber, with a queer exhilaration and expectancy in her heart. Back there, behind her, her mother and Cousin Stickles were crying—over themselves, not over her. But here the wind was in her face, soft, dew-wet, cool, blowing along the grassy roads. Oh, she loved the wind! The robins were whistling sleepily in the firs along the way and the moist air was fragrant with the tang of balsam. Big cars went purring past in the violet dusk—the stream of summer tourists to Muskoka had already begun—but Valancy did not envy any of their occupants. Muskoka cottages might be charming, but beyond, in the sunset skies, among the spires of the firs, her Blue Castle towered. She brushed the old years and habits and inhibitions away from her like dead leaves. She would not be littered with them.

“We’ll just sit here,” said Barney, “and if we think of anything worth while saying we’ll say it. Otherwise, not. Don’t imagine you’re bound to talk to me.”

“John Foster says,” quoted Valancy, “‘If you can sit in silence with a person for half an hour and yet be entirely comfortable, you and that person can be friends. If you cannot, friends you’ll never be and you need not waste time in trying.’”

“Evidently John Foster says a sensible thing once in a while,” conceded Barney.

“There’s our island,” he said gloatingly.

Valancy looked—and looked—and looked again. There was a diaphanous, lilac mist on the lake, shrouding the island. Through it the two enormous pine-trees that clasped hands over Barney’s shack loomed out like dark turrets. Behind them was a sky still rose-hued in the afterlight, and a pale young moon.

Valancy shivered like a tree the wind stirs suddenly. Something seemed to sweep over her soul.

“My Blue Castle!” she said. “Oh, my Blue Castle!”

Valancy and Barney turned under the mainland pines in the cool dusk of the September night for a farewell look at the Blue Castle. Mistawis was drowned in sunset lilac light, incredibly delicate and elusive. Nip and Tuck were cawing lazily in the old pines. Good Luck and Banjo were mewed and mewing in separate baskets in Barney’s new, dark-green car en route to Cousin Georgiana’s.

[bluetimeombre]

✧˚. ❃ ↷ Call it what you want to, part three

[I'm having way too much fun with these, but i'm gonna try and make the next part the final. i'm so glad you guys are as obssessed as me. and all i can say is i'm sorry to the tom blyth girlies, believe me, i am one of you and i promise i'll make it up to you!]

↶*ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊ-

You are texting ... Timothee Chalamet

Timothee Chalamet is calling... My Daisy &lt;3 [declined]

↶*ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊ-

liked by ... tchalamet, lola.tung, emmalouisecorrin, florenceough, louispartridge_ & others

yourusername: dreams do come true, can't wait to see you later graham norton!!

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user: omg she's such a star

user: my bby moving up in the world

user: no omg cause this is a dream for her

user: ur so pretty

user: I LOVE U

tchalamet: let's go!!! can't wait

yourusername: wait for me at least

tchalamet: waiting...

user: they're so cute!!1

user: i BET he dumped kylie to be with her and she's dating tom

user: my two fave's

user: she looks so good

user: y does timmy only follow one person and it's her

↶*ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊ-

the graham norton show has been a dream since you started acting, you'd hoped to one day make it on and know that if you did, you'd have officially made it.

not only were you on the show with timmy, but cher, julia roberts and tom hanks. to say you were shaking in your boots was an understatement. back stage you were jumping around after spending some time with the guests. that time had been spent mainly at timothee's side and laughing when appropriate, because you just couldn't believe you were there with them. timothee just laughed, trying to ease your nerves even if he to was scared. in the end, he bounced with you.

you sat on the end of the sofa, next to timothee as the guests ran down the other end.

'and some stars we have on the sofa, look at them at the end. world premier of wonka!' celebrated graham.

you and timmy nodded, thanking the applauses.

'but it wasn't just the world premier, you filmed it over here?' he asked.

'yea we made it in leavesden, very close to here, we shot it almost entirely in london and er- as i always say- i feel like an honorary brit now,' said timmy, glancing at you as he called himself a brit.

you bite back something between a grimace and a smile.

'it was about six of seven months,' he continued, 'it was absolutely joyous as an ignorant yankee.'

'you guys drive on the other side of the road,' joked tom hanks.

'and welcome, at the end there being very quiet,' said graham gesturing to you.

'yea, hi!' you grin, taking a sip of your drink as the audience laugh.

'you're from here, aren't you?'

'yes, british. but it was still really nice to film in london and bath for a lot of it.'

'i can imagine and because, is it right, you were filming for the hunger games whilst you were filming wonka?' he asked. a picture of your poster for the hunger games flashed on the screen and timmy led the applause, whooping.

his attention was only focused on you. his eyes watching every movement, his lips curling up, arm around the back of the sofa.

'thank you, thank you. immediately after filming wonka i got a plane to poland to start filming for the hunger games, yea. literally still in costume for wonka on the plane, i-i got some looks.'

the crowd laugh.

'let's talk about that, hunger games, number one movie!' graham celebrated as everyone clapped.

'thank you, thank you- there we are,' you smile at the picture of tom and you in your characters in the zoo scene. you chose not to notice of timothee shifted around and coughed at the picture.

'and, is it true you did your own singing in that?'

'yes, well i do in wonka too, but for the hunger games it was live. you know, i play this character lucy-grey who's part of this covey band and they all sing so i did it all live on set. then recorded it for the soundtrack separately. this is boring to explain, but-' you said, laughing and fiddling with your rings nervously.

'she's fantastic in the movie,' said timothee, putting his attention on graham and his hand on yours to stop the fiddling. 'i remember working with her in wonka, it was just so much fun, she brings a sort of ... breath of fresh air into it, even though it's a light-hearted comedy, she still makes that difference. and i saw the hunger games, its so cool to be able to see her in an element that i'm not familiar with. but i can still see how she plays the role and how she plays it in such her own and charismatic way.'

you turn your head down, blushing as the crowd clap and as timothee rubs your back. he made it impossible to keep it cool, and on live tv.

'and she sang the songs so good in wonka!' he continued. you tried to get him to stop, but he went on. 'on our table read, she was singing the songs there with our music producer, james taylor, and even then she was singing her parts, our co-stars parts, my parts.'

'ok, shush, shush,' you put your hand over timothees mouth.

'you know what, i saw the new hunger games movie,' said tom hanks, breaking in between you. 'and i have to say, you were the best part of the movie.'

your jaw almost dropped. 'oh woah, thank you, thank you mr tom hanks,' you clasp your hands together, thanking him. 'woah, woody just complimented me, that means so much to me.'

the rest of the interview went on, talking about cher's music, pretty women and listen to tom hanks talk about space and science. sometimes, when timmy would take a drink, he'd bring you yours, offering it to you in a sweet move.

it went on to talk about timothee going to play the iconic bob dylan in a movie, so it was your turn to watch in admiration, eyes sparkling with it.

'no i haven't met him, i'd love to meet him but you know, i don't want to put any pressure on him in any way. but er- we just saw him live,' he said, gesturing to you as you nod, holding onto your drink, 'three weeks ago, in new york. sold out, kings theatre. it was brilliant, it was magical. they bag your phone on the way in, obliges you to be present, as hard as that may be,' he said again, glancing to you. because how could he ever be present when standing next to you?

a picture showed of bob dylan with sonny and cher.

'i can see it, there is a passing resemblance,' says graham.

'thank you, that is the biggest compliment. my god, i'm blown away,' he leant back on the sofa, arm brushing yours. 'this whole talk show has been like a trip.'

everyone laughed at that, tom hanks playing along.

'but cher, you're going to be played by someone soon,' prompted graham.

'please say it's me,' said julia roberts.

'well-' graham gestured down to you.

you laugh and sheepishly hold up your hand. 'i'll do it, i'm currently un-employed.

cher looked down at you, 'we've cast nobody, babe.'

'you have now,' you shrug. the audience laugh.

finally, you guys talked about wonka, leading timothee- the leading man- to talk about it.

'you sing and dance in it, don't forget that,' you nudge him.

timothee blushes, nodding. somehow the two of you had snuggled up on the sofa, pushed to the end and bodies pressed close together. 'it's blasphemy to say that on a sofa with cher!'

'no, i saw you on saturday night live, you were great. and you danced and you did that hot-guys, or cool-guys or something like that,' said cher.

the audience clap and you laugh loudly, remembering his saturday night live. you'd been in the audience, having done press for the hunger games. it was the best night.

'baby face!' you cheer.

'i can't believe you watched that,' said timmy to cher.

'do you want to re-fresh us?' invited julia.

the crowd whoop and laugh as you clap along.

'you sing it with me?' asked timmy, looking over at you.

'absolutely not, this is all you babe,' you pat him on the back as he leans forward and re-counts the song. you nod your head along with, mouthing the words and clapping, pretending to bow when he was finished. timmy laughed and held onto you.

'you two do seem very close down there,' said graham.

for a moment, you two pause and there's quiet. before you guys realise he's talking about the fact everyone on the sofa had shuffled down so that you were on the edge.

'timmy's magnetic field,' you say, rubbing his shoulders.

↶*ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊ-

instagram story... tchalamet posted!

caption: graham norton, let's go!!

tagged: yourusername

caption: she's calling

tagged: yourusername

Instagram story … yourusername posted

↶*ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊ-

user: guys, tom was out partying with friends and his ex-gf while yourusername was doing her graham norton interview

user: as he should after yourusername spends all her time with timothee

user: they’re friends

user: img party boy

user: why is this news? do we care

user: noooooo my parents

user: what if there relationship is just all pr for the film 😔😔

user: I love tom, let him do what he wants

user: she’s better with timmy anyway

↶*ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊ-

liked by… tchalamet, sadiesink_, rachelzegler, tomblyth, vanityfair & others

yourusername: thank you so much vanity fair for featuring me and coming to my home town (p.s I’m so sorry about all the sheep poo x)

771k likes 401k comments

user: love!

user: ONG the only one to ever exsist ever!

user: I can’t wait to see what she says about tom and timothee

user: she is her own person

user: OMG TAYLOR SWOFT

user: collab when???

user: I love u!!!!

user: I can’t wait to read and stare at you

tchalamet: let’s go!!!!

yourusername liked tchalamet’s comment

user: parents are interacting

user: anyone notice her and tom been really quiet? they went from making out in streets to barley being seen together

user: reputation era!!!

user: is this a reputation easter egg??

tomblyth: very proud, my dear !

yourusername: thanks bro ;)

user: what!!!!!

user: WHAT HAS HAPPENED

user: he got bro zoned

user: they went from quoting notting hill to calling each other bro 😭😭

yourusername in conversation with VANITY FAIR.

user: so she dating tom or what?

user: did you just not read the article?

user: tomblyth do me a favour and tell her to make up her mind

tomblyth: user do me a favour and get a life

user: HE DID THAT

user: tom so fr

user: tom a real bf

user: i love them!!!!

user: I love her!!!

user: she said what she said and left no crumbs

user: queen shit

user: MOTHER!!

user: the way she talks suggests they are only friends and my heart breaks

user: i'll miss them

↶*ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊ-

:) taglist: @callsignwidow @kodzuvk @dangelnleif @coconut-dreamz @destrolid @hermionelove @popejar @yesimwriting @slytherhoes @peachesandmon @zunin-msty (thank you all for enjoying it!!!!!)

[vscabarca]

polish love - pablo gavi

summary: gavi and you have been seeing each other for a while, but only now does he realize your not Spanish but Polish!

genre: fluff

a/n: for a dear Polish friend of mine!💗 Hope you like it🌟😘

———

„Mamo, nie teraz! Jestem teraz zajęty…“ („Mom not now! I‘m busy…”) You said quite a bit embarrassed, sitting alone in a coffee shop waiting for Gavi.

The footballer and you had been seeing each other for the past few weeks, going on cute little dates every now and then.

At first, you met Gavi through mutual friends, hanging out in groups at each other’s homes. Over time you felt closer to the number six, sharing glances and little inside jokes while your other friends did not seem to notice how you two grew closer.

Now, on a gloomy Wednesday afternoon, you sat in a quiet corner of a local cafe, waiting for the footballer to arrive.

„Ah! Jesteś na randce z uroczym Hiszpanem! Jak on ma na imię? Paul? -“ („Ah! You’re on a date with that cute Spanish guy! What’s his name again? Paul? -“) Your cheeks grew bright red, your eyes widened when you heard your Mom‘s words. You loved her endlessly but she could be shameless when it came to a boy.

„Ma na imię Pablo. Ale o co właściwie chciałeś mnie zapytać?“ („His name is Pablo. But what did you want to ask me again?“)

You tried to switch the topic, feeling a bit too embarrassed to talk about boys with your mom.

„Potrzebuję dowodu tożsamości, aby zarejestrować się w firmie ubezpieczeniowej.“ („I need your identity card to register you with the insurance company.“)

You furrowed your eyebrows, laughing slightly at the random question. After fumbling around in your bag you found the card, ready to send it to her.

What you didn’t realize, Gavi just walked inside, immediately smiling once he saw you sit there.

Though his smile quickly changed into confusion as he heard you talk (for him) gibberish.

„Wyślę ci zdjęcie.“ („I‘ll send you a picture.“) You felt someone walk up beside you, and when you realized it was the footballer you had a crush on, you gave him a soft smile.

„Porozmawiamy później.“ („I‘ll talk to you later.“) Rushed, you hung up, greeting Gavi with a wide smile. He gave you a warm hug, pecking your checks twice. You felt your face heat up and tried to play it off by putting your phone away.

„What was that?“ He grinned, curious about what you were saying just moments ago.

„Oh I was on a call with my mom.“

Baffled he looked at you, making you feel a bit confused.

„Wait so you’re not Spanish?!“ Gavi asked astonished as you shook your head with a grin.

„No actually. My parents are from Poland but we moved here when I was little.“ You explained. You never actually told him, it just never came to that topic so you understood why he was surprised.

„I didn’t know that! That‘s cool though.“

That’s how you immersed in stories of your childhood from Poland, telling him how beautiful and versatile the country was which you moved away from at the age of eight.

„And at home you still only speak Polish?“ It was cute how much Gavi was interested in your origins, it made your stomach flutter when you just thought about it.

„I try to encourage my parents to speak Spanish with me because they always complain theirs isn’t as good as my Spanish, but they answer me in Polish. It‘s bit of a mix.“ You giggled, remembering the cocktail of different languages spoken at home.

„Teach me something.“ He spoke softly, the afternoon sun shining perfectly onto his face, making it hard for you to stay concentrated and not get lost in his eyes.

„Hmm, what do you want me to say?“ You asked, leaning your chin onto the palm of your hand, tilting your head a bit, giving him a small smile.

„How about… I like spending time with you?“ You laughed at his attempt to flirt, his and your laughter resonated through the small cafe, making curious heads turn around.

The vibe between you two became a bit more flirtatious over the last couple of meetings, but both of you were so awkward sometimes that a laugh slipped through once or twice. But, this just made the situation a lot more wholesome, right?

„Lubię spędzać z tobą czas.“ („I like spending time with you.“)

More laughter resonated through the cafe when Gavi looked at you with wide eyes, but tried nevertheless. It took him quite some time to get the pronounciation right, but with laughter and giggles he made it work.

„It sounds so cool, are you kidding me.“ He patted his shoulder proudly as if it didn’t take him at least ten minutes to learn.

„Okay hear me out. I‘m serious, lubię spędzać z tobą czas.“ (I like spending time with you.“) Gavi said more serious, his eyes glistening with affection.

Your cheeks heat up for the nth time this afternoon, but you didn’t hide it this time.

„ja też.“ („Me too.“) You smiled, tucking your hair behind your ears.

Gavi and you decided to slowly head back home as both of you had a tight schedule the next day.

„I go to the bathroom real quick.“ He announced once you two stood up and gave your temple a quick kiss before disappearing in the bathroom. You bit your lip, not believing any of this was real. You hoped in the end everything would work out as you really started to like the midfielder.

The sun was already setting outside once Gavi came back. You two started walking in comfortable silence, enjoying the mild breeze coming from the sea.

It already happened once or twice, your finger brushing against Gavi‘s, your eyes shyly meeting when it happened. The third time it happened, Gavi finally decided to interlock his fingers with yours, giving you a quick glance to see if you were okay with it.

With fingers intertwined, he walked you back home while exchanged quick little anecdotes and already planning the next date.

„That was a really nice cafe you chose for today. I loved it.“ You said once you stood opposite him in front of your porch.

„You choose the next place, okay?“

It felt like time slowed down, Gavi standing there with his hand in yours looking into your eyes while you felt your heart beating in your chest .

Gavi came closer, his hand moving some hair that had fallen into your face behind your ear and cupped your cheek.

„Czy mogę cię pocałować?“ („Can I kiss you?“) He spoke not above a whisper, eyes moving from your yours to your lips.

Without answering you grabbed the back of his neck, pulling him in for a tender kiss.

Everything in that moment was perfect, the sunset, the kiss and Gavi.

You two broke apart with a smile, him still holding your waist.

„How did you learn Polish so fast?“ You laughed, hiding your face in his shoulder.

„I may or may not have gone to the bathroom to learn this sentence by heart?“ He said with a smile, making you laugh even more.

„How do you say I really like you and want to kiss you again?“ Gavi asked, still having both of his arms around your body, his thumb gently stroking your skin.

„Kiss me first, then I‘ll tell you.“ You grinned slyly, already feeling his lips on yours again.

[petermorwood]

Interesting post about costume here.

This paragraph in particular caught my attention...

What we think of as “peasant garb” is actually the product of a game of telephone that travels back from Romantic Revival art, and many of those (urban) artists got their idea of what rural peasants wore from opera costumes. The costumers working at the opera were not going out to the country side to take notes on what farmers actually wore, nor did they want to. Opera is show biz, you want it to be evocative, but not ordinary. Their costumes would have been based on what urban folks were wearing, with extra little touches like a shepherds crook to make it look “rural”.

... because it was Wagner's Ring Cycle that gave us horned helmets.

They didn't originate with the Vikings. They originated with the 1876 costume designs for a bunch of operas, and those designs by Carl Emil Doepler still exist.

For reference, all the horny characters are mortals.

Those helmets were probably based on archaeological finds, even though all Northern European examples are, AFAIK and depending on context, either religious headgear equivalent to a bishop's mitre, or ceremonial headgear equivalent to a crown.

In addition, every single one predates the Viking Age by a period ranging from a couple of centuries to a couple of millennia so - makes vague handwave gesture - they're more appropriate for the sorta-kinda mythic Migration Era setting of the Ring than any Vik who ever inged..

Doepler's designs also feature WINGED helmets, worn by immortals like Wotan...

... and the Valkyries.

Something else I encountered when looking for pics to illustrate this was that other clichéd armour error, the boob-plate.

Here's dramatic soprano Karin Branzell wearing one...

...while here's heroic tenor Fritz Vogelstrom also wearing one.

He's singing the role of Siegfried but wearing the costume of Brunnhilde, at least that's how it looks to an operatic Philistine like me.

Anyway...

Winged helmets are even more historically dodgy - no archaeological evidence at all - yet are actually more feasible as working combat helmets.

The difference is that horns, being heavy, need sturdy mountings so a horned helmet both provides catch-points for incoming blows and handles for an enemy to grapple, while a winged helmet does neither. The wings, being light, wouldn't need solid fixtures so would just shear off under a weapon or come off in an enemy's hands.

I'm well aware that other times, places and cultures - Indo-Persia, Poland, Japan etc. - had helmets with wings, horns and all sorts of other stuff, but this is about how the popular image of Vikings that headgear came from opera.

And went all over the place... :->

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

Hi!! First of all, thank for all your work and still being here!

Second, can I ask for Hale family recs, like they’re alive and well and they’re a big part of the story.

Thank you!!

Hi anon! @kevaaronday made this list for you!

Divided We Stand by KouriArashi (29/29 | 156,742 | Mature | Sterek) Derek is being pressured by his family to pick a mate, and somehow stumbles into a choice that they didn't expect and aren't sure they approve of....

No Homo by orphan_account (12/12 | 84,092 | Explicit | Sterek) Stiles' sophomore year starts something like this:

3 FourLokos

+ 1 peer-pressuring cat

- 1 best bro to end all best bros

= 1 Craigslist ad headline that reads "str8 dude - m4m - strictly platonic".

Derek is the fool who replies.

The Price we Pay by Gia279 (37/37 | 66,603 | Teen | Sterek) Twelve years after inadvertently stopping Kate Argent from burning the Hale pack alive, Stiles is sleepwalking again, dragged unwillingly to witness horrible accidents, floods, house fires, and other disasters. He wakes, confused and blindfolded, at the incidents with power rising sharp and exhilarating in his chest, and he doesn't know how to stop it. Is he the one causing these horrible things or is he just there to witness them?

Derek has been curious about the magic that saved him and his pack for years, and when Stiles's powers manifest again, he's determined to figure it out. With the whole of Beacon Hills being thrown into chaos and Stiles, apparently, just on the edge of that chaos, Derek finds himself being drawn to fix it all and keep Stiles out of the danger that keeps calling to him.

We Met, We Loved, We Made by Fogsy_Feel (3/3 | 56,820 | Explicit | Sterek) The Hales are the real American dynasty. Pinnacles of wealth. A powerful pack fiercely protective of their own, with all the resources to do it. They don't take kind to strangers infiltrating their ranks...Which means they definitely won't take kind to a Polish twenty year old marrying their oldest son. Stiles knew all this for the most part, but when you find the one? Well then all that drama suddenly seems inconsequential.

— Derek doesn't know what he expected from Poland. Maybe some great food and some less great snow? He certainly hadn't expected to meet the most annoying person he'd ever come across. Nor did he expect to fall in love and marry him, not all of a month after meeting the guy. Stiles is strange. He's weird and a little mean. He's probably Derek's soulmate. Who really knows. It's all progressing a little fast. He wouldn't change it for the world

Marking Against Instinct by fullmoontonightt (1/1 | 44,620 | Mature | Sterek) The guy in front of him is looking around the shop with interest, letting his eyes scan over the flash art on the walls. He's beautiful and Derek's wolf purrs in his chest, wanting to get closer. He frowns when he realizes the guy is human.

Derek faces him, eyes serious. “You know this is a wolves only shop right?”

Alpha Derek Hale has had his wolves only tattoo shop for years. Before Stiles Stilinksi walked in, asking him for help with a tattoo, he'd never thought about how a single tattoo could change his life.

One More Again by HelloWhyTheFuckAmIHere (16/16 | 22,238 | Not Rated | Sterek) When a strange man appears in the Hale Pack territory with an unusual proposition for Stiles and Lydia, Stiles is unable to resist going back in time to stop the Hale House fire. 

Even after a few bumps in the road, Stiles finds himself in the past with one nearly-insurmountable goal - getting Talia Hale and the rest of her family to trust him with their lives.

Don't know how to reach you when you get like this (waiting for you to come home) by dearericbittle (1/1 | 21,339 | Teen | Sterek) Senator Talia Hale is going to be the first werewolf president. She is also his mother’s best friend, who’s in desperate need of a friendly mage to help her break the curse on her children. Stiles likes a challenge - and the free vacation in DC for his parents.

Chicken Soup for the Incredibly Fragile Human Soul by aurevell (1/1 | 3,029 | Gen | Sterek) Stiles comes to the Hale house to cram for a test with Cora as planned. Unfortunately, he's definitely coming down with something.

Even more unfortunately, no one in the entire Hale family seems to know what to do with a human who has a cold.

[netflix]

Spotlight: Adam Stockhausen

Production Designer, The Wonderful Story Henry Sugar

Oscar winning production designer Adam Stockhausen (not pictured above, that’s Benedict Cumberbatch), whose work you may know from Wes Anderson films like The Grand Budapest Hotel, Asteroid City, The French Dispatch, Isle of Dogs, and Moonrise Kingdom, as well as titles like Bridge of Spies, and West Side Story (2021), took the time to answer some questions.

Which details from or aspects of The Wonderful Story Henry Sugar did you focus the most on while adapting it to the screen? How did you meld Roald Dahl and Wes’s worlds?

The details on this one started with Dahl’s writing hut! We matched the details pretty carefully and exactly. As soon as we step outside of the hut though we start to move through the world of the story and the world of the stage at the same time. Wes had the idea of how he wanted to do this from the very beginning. My main challenge was trying to figure out how to pull it off—making the parts move and getting each to have the right detail.

What’s a small change you made on a project that ended up having an unexpectedly significant impact? 

Lots of times this happens—where what seems like a small thing at the time becomes a very significant turning point. I’m in Berlin now writing this and remembering being here scouting for East Berlin for Bridge of Spies. We were struggling to find a section of town that still felt old enough to show the early 60s, and decided to take a chance on a quick search in Poland. That quick search changed the whole production plan and ultimately gave us the look of our East Berlin.

How has technology changed the way you approach your work? 

Technology has definitely changed the way we plan the work. We used to model everything in cardboard or sometimes just plan in two dimensions with pencil and paper. We can now plan in 3-dimensional space using modeling programs and see what real lenses will do.  This allows for more accurate planning and makes scenery moves like the casino set in Henry Sugar possible.

Do you have any signature easter eggs you like to leave? Any small details that you are particularly fond of? 

I wouldn’t say there are easter eggs in this one. But there are loads of special details! I think my favorite might be the levitation boxes where we painted a perspective view of the background onto a prop box. The actor sitting on the box appears to be floating in a very special and theatrical way.

Did you talk about reflecting the iconic Quentin Blake illustrations in production design? How would you go about doing that? 

Not really. They are such incredible drawings and I’d say they’ve been inspiring me since I saw them as a child! But for this the starting point was really the machine Wes devised to move us through the story—and pairing that to specific references scene by scene.

There is such an intentionality to the aesthetics of a Wes world. Is there a set or frame that took you a long time to get perfectly right? 

All of them! It’s a very labor-intensive process getting these frames right. Occasionally one will click right away, but usually it’s a process of refining and refining. The jungle for instance went from sketches to models to samples and back again several times before the final look settled.

If you had to present one frame that showcases the best of your work, what would it be? 

Oh my. Maybe the jungle? I really enjoyed making the jungle!

With all the moving sets in the trailer for The Wonderful Story Henry Sugar, it feels reminiscent of a theatre production. Are there distinct differences in approach between film and theatre and how much do you blur the lines between them in your work? 

I think the lines are blurred completely! Or maybe they aren’t even there. I love that Henry Sugar is so incredibly theatrical in its storytelling.  It allows us to show the artifice of the sets all the time which somehow makes them even more satisfying when they finally do line up and create a complete picture. I think the casino set is a perfect example—the pauses where it all lines up for a second are even more enjoyable because we get to see it broken apart and sliding away.

Thanks, Adam!

[simplydnp]

WAD: Cover Art

dan is still working on selling the distribution rights for We're All Doomed! so i decided to make some DVD/Blu-ray disc jacket art!

this is my attempt at a traditional jacket design! none of the images used are mine, but i did create the concept and design:

as i was making the first one for myself, i was struck by the fact that 'well, it's for me, so it doesn't have to look like a stereotypical jacket cover' which led me to be more artsy in my approach for the next one:

i was really enjoying the creativity and space to explore, so i went looking for more inspiration for a third design. this led me to dan's favourite Muse album: Origin of Symmetry, which i paid homage to:

after the first Muse album, i looked at their catalogue to see if there was more inspiration there. i was just thankful dan's favourite was easy stylistically to mimic, unlike say, 2009's The Resistance...

thank you @danielhowell for the inspiration!

nerdy stuff & reference pics below the cut!

General notes

i don't know how to use photoshop! i entirely brute-forced my way through the whole project, and the only tutorial i looked up was for the gradient text in the 4th cover

this wasn't even the original project i was working on! you'll eventually get to see that though

and this one also inspired art for the disc itself so stay tuned 👀

i will do anything for authenticity so these are Full of intentional details

matching fonts is a nightmare

the traditional cover

took the longest, as it was the first.

the barcode numbers are the date of the first video he uploaded on dinof, and the last tour show date (in m/d/y)

i changed 'iceland' to 'poland' on the front cover, as he never actually went to iceland, and poland wasn't ever on the list even though he did go there

the orange may look a little off-center in the front, but these designs need to include space for a spine between the front and back cover, i promise it's right 😂

the black and white cover

inspired by the 'i want to believe' aliens poster

the cover art comes from his metal band merch shirt design

i had to manually shrink the text, line by line, and ensure it all lined up on the back!

i even made the logos on the back greyscale

the Muse: Origin of Symmetry cover

a shockingly perfect style for a WAD cover. i'm so glad i used the cubes, even if they couldn't be orange.

there's some versions of the art online where the sky is even more orange and it baffles me how i haven't seen any parallels like this before

the Muse: The Resistance cover

this cover was never supposed to see the light of day! i meant it when i said i was grateful i didn't have to try to adapt this complex design... and yet, i tried anyway.

i did all the grid lines by hand, including the jagged/broken edge parts, shading each section, and then drawing every star.

the hardest part was getting the gradient on the back text to cooperate. photoshop's gradient settings are surprisingly limited

gotta shout out @amazingphil for being the reason i knew what this cover looked like--it's the only muse album i knew the art of before embarking on this quest!

obligatory sob story:

i've been extremely and suddenly ill for 6 months. it is difficult to function moment to moment, but especially in doing little things just for me. this is the first and only art project i've been able to feel inspired to not only work on, but to finish, and despite the pain and long hours, i enjoyed every minute of it. thank you, dan, for creating this space for me to explore, and thank you, everyone here, for being wonderful support during this time 💞

[gothamite-rambler]

"Let's make some water!"

Stephanie: Let's make some water together! Follow me! First you get your flavor packets! Flavor packets:

Tim: Flavor packets?

Dick: Where's the water?

Jason: How do you make water? What does that even mean? Just go to the faucet.

Stephanie: Silent! Next you get your cup!

Stephanie: You following me, camera guy?

Tim: There's no camera in here.

Bruce: Just let her do her thing.

Stephanie: Thank you, now you fill the cup with lots of ice!

Stephanie slides over the bucket with ease. She scoops the ice in.

Stephanie: Now we-

Jason: We haven't even gotten to the water part.

Stephanie: I'm at that step! I said silence! Next is the agua. Bottled agua!

Stephanie pulls out a giant bottle of Poland springs water, unscrews the top and pours into the cup. Everyone except Bruce and Damian look on confused.

Stephanie: We toss the bottle-

Alfred, appearing and leaving quickly: In the trash.

Stephanie chuckles nervously and tosses the bottle in the trash and not the floor like she had planned.

Stephanie: Right in the trash, not the ground. All right, we get our flavor packet-

Dick (pointing at the cup shaking): But it's already water. You already made water.

Tim: Still confused on that. The ice is water too so you made more water?

Jason: You're not going to put that sugar in the water are you?

Stephanie (her left eye twitching): Bruce.

Bruce: Shut up until she finishes, children. I will lower your allowances if you speak before she does show us this.

Dick: ...

Jason: ...

Tim: I don't even get paid, but whatever.

Stephanie: Thank you. Where was I? Oh, right, flavor packets! One flavor packet? Two flavor packets? No, three! One orange and two purple.

Damian claps in support of Stephanie as she rips open the packets and pours the orange one in first.

Stephanie: Now we do a little stir with our trusty straw.

Stephanie pulls out a hot pink metallic straw.

Tim: I-

Jason slaps his hand over the man's mouth, he wasn't losing that $5,000.

Stephanie: Purple packs. Pour, pour, pour, and I stir a little. Stir, stir. Annnnd, finished!

Stephanie took a sip from her metal pink straw. Stephanie nods satisfied. She makes this gesture 👌🏾

Stephanie: Perfect!

Tim, eyes dart to Bruce.

Bruce: You may talk.

Tim: Where's the water? Where's the water! I ask once more...

Tim (breathing heavy): Where's the water?! Cuz all I see is that you made Kool-Aid!

Stephanie (offended): That's not what I did! It's flavored water.

Tim: It's not even that- Someone else go.

Tim rubs his head frustrated.

Jason: That stopped being water when you put in the "orange and purple packets". Your freaking voice there sounded like a valley girl.

Stephanie: No you are not the type of people that decide to call this not water because I happen to put in flavor packets!

Dick (upset): It's not!

Stephanie: Bruce says it is!

The Wayne boys stare at their father.

Bruce: It's technically still water and it taste good. I'm not going to deny that.

Stephanie: If B agrees with it, then it's officially canon!

Damian: Can I try some then?

Stephanie: Of course you can, because I happened to have a second prepared in the fridge.

Stephanie brings out the second "water" that looks like fruit punch, but it's not because she says it's not! Damian claps again admiring her planning.

Damian took the glass, shrugged and took a sip.

Damian: Hm... Yummy, flavorful, I like it.

Damian and Bruce clap.

Stephanie: Yes! It's low calorie too.

Dick (holding his head down): You stupid... water has no calories you added calories!

Tim: Is this a thing? Did we miss a stupid thing?!

Jason takes the second glass and chugs it without the straw.

Jason: I pretend that it's water, to be nice, but wow that is so sugary!

Stephanie (indignant): Excuse me for not wanting to drink plain water which tastes awful sometimes.

Tim (losing his patience): You- I- You- I can't talk. I actually can't talk. I drink coffee, coffee is not just brown water!

Stephanie (rolling her eyes): Mm, that would be really weird to call it brown water... look who's the idiot now.

She takes a sip from her water while giving the boy a judgemental look

Damian chuckles.

Damian: That's you Tim. She's making fun of you.

Tim: Ha ha I'm leaving. This was a waste of my time.

Tim leaves.

Dick (follows but turns around quickly to say): Also how do you say water tastes bad? It's meant to replenish the body, not have a Kool-Aid flavor! Strange, strange person!

He leaves.

Jason: Hm, well I do drink Vitamin water, so I'll give this a shot.

Bruce: She uses a lot of packets, you might find one that you like the most.

Jason: What's yours?

Bruce: Kiwi strawberry I think.

Damian: I want whatever this is.

Stephanie: Welcome to the good side boys.

[queenshelby]

Chemical Reactions (P. 4)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy as J Robert Oppenheimer x Student Reader

Warning: Smut in later parts, Age-Gap, Infidelity

Words: 2,567

Note: The fic is spoiler free and my own fantasy and imagination. It is not historically and scientifically accurate.

Previous Parts: 1; 2; 3

Two weeks later…

Just over two weeks had passed since you took up your scholarship at Berkley and it has been seven days since you began researching for your thesis about dark matter under the supervision of J Robert Oppenheimer who, unfortunately for you, appeared to be somewhat preoccupied with more important matters these days.

For the weeks and days, he had been visited by a man of statue who appeared to be a general of some sort and, whilst you were curious about this man’s visits to Berkley, you already some idea about what this may be about.

For months there had been some talks in the scientific community about the fission reaction of atoms which ultimately gave rise to the possible creation of a new innovative bomb. It was only a matter of time until the army caught on to this idea and you knew from your time at Harvard that several professors had already been lobbying for an atomic bomb project in this regard.

You thus assumed that, finally, the program was going to implemented, especially since now Germany had just invaded Poland. You knew that, an atomic bomb like this could end the war and your presumption was that the army was recruiting scientists, including J Robert Oppenheimer, to build this powerful nuclear weapon before the Germans did.

As such, you did not bother him much these days with minuscule issues about dark matter and Dr Oppenheimer certainly kept to himself whenever he could until Tuesday evening came around and he finally decided to check on you in the lab.

Your POV

Unlike your very own professor, in the lab, you were an ace and experimenting to prove a theory someone else or yourself has come up with excited you a lot even though the theoretical part of physics was what you desired to be involved in the most.

Unlike many other students in your department at Berkley, you had a high attention to detail when it came to experimental physics and since working with hazardous chemicals at high or low pressures required some planning and special precautions, you enjoyed to use the laboratory after everyone had left.

You often spent hours in the lab following your lectures for the day and today was not any different when, at 7 o’clock at night, you were still occupied by your attempts to create a chemical reaction similar to that of a star exploding.

Thus, when Dr Oppenheimer approached you from behind, just as you put the centrifuge you were using under negative pressure and connected it the exhaust system, you startled.

You were concentrating too hard and did not expect to see anyone at this hour in the laboratory, especially not him, your very own supervisor who had been too busy for your research in the past two weeks.

“Holy shit, you startled me” you thus spat as you dropped one of the glass vials on to the concrete floor which, luckily for you, did not contain anything but some pH solution.

“I don’t believe that I ever heard you swear like this, Miss Y/LN” Dr Oppenheimer said with some amusement in his voice before gathering a small broom and helping you to clean up the mess you made because of him, which was a gesture you appreciated.

“My apologies Dr Oppenheimer. It’s just, you don’t seem to be here often these days and I am behind with my research already, so…” you stammered as, together, you cleaned up the broken glass and, before you realised it, his hand was on top of yours, caressing it gently.

Immediately, you felt that same tingling again on your skin which, just a few weeks ago, you felt on your neck when Dr Oppenheimer adjusted the clip on the back of your necklace. It was an intense and rather pleasurable sensation which, ultimately, made you blush.

“There is no need to apologise. If anyone had to apologise, it should be me, for neglecting my engagement as your thesis supervisor. Unfortunatly, there have been some more pressing matters that required my attention” Dr Oppenheimer then said as he was letting go of your hand and raising back to his feet before helping you up as well by using his right hand.

“I figured” you barely stammered while allowing Dr Oppenheimer to pull you to your feet before, with a slight blush, walking towards the utilities room to dispose of the broken glass vail and to obtain a new one.

“You figured?” Dr Oppenheimer then asked somewhat confused by your statement as he followed you into the utilities room.

“I have seen an army general visiting your office twice last week and my presumption is that you have been recruited to build this goddamn bomb, which every physicist in this country has been talking about for months” you asserted with little to no reluctance before also voicing your concerns about it. “Do you really think that this is a good idea?” you wanted to know, seeing that such bomb could easily be a device of mass destruction and, just as you spoke the words, Robert pushed you further into the corner of the utilities room while closing the door shut behind you.

You then suddenly felt his warm but strong arm pull you against him before covering your mouth with the palm of his other hand.

“Shh” he whispered before shaking his head, indicating for you to stop talking and, by that point, your heart was pounding hard with adrenaline.

He must have thought that someone was listening in on you and presumed that the laboratory was bugged by government officials, but none of this mattered to you now as you felt heat everywhere now while his body was touching yours.

The feeling of his body against yours was so intense that you couldn’t even murmur a response into his palm and thus you simply nodded, which is when he spoke again.

“I don’t know what you are talking about, but you sure have a creative imagination” Dr Oppenheimer said, brushing off what you had alleged while still holding his arms around you and embracing the sparks of electricity emanating from each other's bodies.

“Now, about your research on dark matter, how does Sunday sound for a catch up?” he then asked as you looked up into his bright blue eyes while he looked down at you with a look of concern and a hint of desire.

“Sunday?” you murmured in response as you could not even manage to speak proper words just yet as you stood there like this for what felt like hours, but it could not even have been more than a minute or two.

“Yes. Sunday. I am away until then” Dr Oppenheimer then said as his arms finally fell from around you and he cleared his throat.

“And, I am leaving for a period of two weeks after that for which Dr O���Connell will be taking over as your supervisor. He will be a good mentor for you but I want to see where you are at with your research before he gets involved” Dr Oppenheimer then announced which broke your trance and you quickly stepped back, almost tripping over your own feet.

“Dr O’Connell?” you asked with surprise while you looked down at your feet, trying to avoid those magnetic eyes of J Robert Oppenheimer.

“Yes. I am afraid so” he confirmed, which is when you finally managed to look at his face again. His eyes were clouded with indescribable emotions and, clearly, so were yours.

“I understand” you eventually confirmed nervously. “Sunday it is but, since the university facilities will be closed, we will need to meet somewhere else” you managed to point out while your eyes began to water slightly from the overwhelmingness of everything that just happened, making you look like a fool.

Dr Oppenheimer, of course, noticed and his face changed from indiscernible to concern once more.

“You will do just fine Miss Y/LN. I have no doubt about it” he reassured you before suggesting the library as a meeting place which meant that, unbeknownst to him, you would have had to copy your calculations from your big chalkboard in your room to several pieces of paper.

“How about the Chevalier residence instead?” you thus suggested, causing Robert to furrow his eyebrows.

“I do not consider this to be a good idea Miss Y/LN. It would be highly inappropriate” Dr Oppenheimer pointed out, but you interrupted him.

“Haakon and Barbara are in San Jose for the weekend. You are friend of them both, so I have no doubt that they wouldn’t mind you visiting me in their absence. That is, of course, if your wife allows it” you explained with a little smirk on your face and your sudden sense of confidence surprised Dr Oppenheimer.

“My wife too, is away, staying with her mother for the time being” he explained before agreeing to your suggestion, but you would not just leave it that.

“Did you and your wife have a fight?” you asked out of curiosity, which is when Dr Oppenheimer shook his head and chuckled.

“We always fight, but that is not the reason. She is staying with her mother because I am busy and am travelling a lot these days and she needs help with our son, Peter” he then explained before stepping away from you again, increasing the gap between you.

“Now, I am afraid, I must go. I have another pressing engagement this evening” he told you and you had a sneaky suspicion that your professor was making the most of the time his wife was away.

“No doubt you do, professor. I shall see you on Sunday” you said with a slight chuckle, seeing that you already knew about his numerous affairs, including his on and off relations with Jean Tatlock.

Robert’s POV

It was later that same day, at around 8 o’clock that Robert went to a place that he had not visited in about three weeks, namely the apartment of Jean Tatlock’s in downtown San Francisco.

Ever since meeting you, he avoided her and whilst he did so subconsciously, he gave it some thought after Jean had addressed the fact that he had been ignoring her calls.

After almost three weeks, she now expressed a great desire to see him again and, considering her poor mental state, Robert reluctantly agreed.

As always, Robert brought her flowers which she disposed of rather quickly and just as she asked him inside, Robert began to explain to her that he was not there to see her for the usual reasons.

This was meant to be his final visit and he knew that, by ending their affair, he would likely break her heart. She would be devastated and that was something that concerned him a lot.

“I am not here for that Jean” Robert thus said just as Jean attempted to kiss him in a haste while pulling against his tie and suit jacket.

“And yet, you finally answered my call. Why?” she asked almost angrily, rolling her eyes before pushing Robert aside and pouring herself a drink. Clearly, she was confused and Robert had to provide an explanation to her.

“Because we need to talk Jean. This has been going on for far too long” he told her while adjusting his tie and jacket again. His facial expression was more serious than usual and that, in itself, concerned Jean.

“Oh my god Robert, after all those years you want to end it?” she asked as tears shot into the corners of her eyes. She shook her head in disbelieve and then smashed the glass she was holding onto the hard wooden floor, spilling her drink along with it.

“Jean, please…” Robert said calmly, trying to console her by reaching for her hands, but Jean pulled away.

“There is someone else, isn’t there?” she asked angrily, causing Robert to sigh deeply.

“I am a married man Jean, so yes, there is someone else, my wife” Robert tried to explain but Jean shook her head angrily and pointed her finger at him.

“No Robert! I am not talking about your wife and neither are you” she said sternly as slowly, but surely, her emotions got the better of her. She began to yell at Robert and, seeing that Jean was so upset, he did not know what else to say to her. He was lost for words.

“Who is she?” she then wanted to know and this is when she received yet another response from her lover that both, confused her and made her fume with rage.

“She is a woman who will help me change the world” Robert acknowledged somewhat reluctantly, causing the tears in her eyes to increase rapidly.

“You know that I love you, Robert. In fact, I never stopped loving you even after you married Katherine" she pleaded while trying to comprehend the situation. For years, Robert had maintained his affair to Jean even after he married Kitty and now this was going to be over because of someone else?

"And I have loved you too, but you have destroyed that love for me Jean. You pushed me away repeatedly and now I am finally it. I moved on” Robert said a little too honestly and with a lack of emotion in his voice, causing Jean’s reaction to worsen.

"I have said I was sorry, Robert!” Jean screamed almost hysterically while stepping one step towards Robert and pushing her hands against his chest, forcing him against the wall.

“So am I Jean. I truly am” he told her while cupping her face. Her tears were clouding her eyes and he sealed her faith with one final kiss before leaving her apartment for the last time, until she would call him again several months later.

Note: Unlike in real life, Jean will not kill herself in this fic. In fact, she will reappear in a few later parts, causing some havoc for the reader.

To be continued…

Please comment and engage. I love getting comments and predictions pretty please!

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[sunarots]

so high school ━━━ atsumu miya

10. darlin’ ♡

Using the sleeve of your hoodie, you use the small mirror in an attempt to dry your tears from your eyes before Atsumu came back and caught you. Unfortunately for you, the door flies open with an instant complaint. "Can't do shit here. We need to- What's wrong?"

You bite your lip and try to stop more tears from flooding out at the thought, closing the sun visor and relaxing back into the car seat. Even though you may not be used to the doors yet, you couldn't deny that the seats were almost as comfortable as your bed. "Wakatoshi's moving to Poland." You can't stop your voice from breaking halfway through the sentence, a sign that you were very likely to keep crying about it until you would wake with a headache.

"Is he really? Wow, Adlers are going through it." He turns the key in the ignition and looks back to you when he catches you sniffle. "I'm sorry, it was rough when Shoyo left. Can't believe two of yer friends left. Let's go get KFC, yeah? Cheer ya up. I'll pay."

You look up from your lap, laughing through your tears when you catch him attempting to wiggle his eyebrows are you. "Thanks, Atsumu."

"Here, choose whatever music ya like." He passes you his phone, telling you to keep it unlocked before he carefully pulls out of the parking lot and turns to the main road.

You scroll through some of his Spotify playlists, trying your hardest not to laugh at some of the songs he had hidden among the regular ones. You settle for one of the Fall Out Boy songs in the album, and adding loads of random songs to the queue. "I can't believe he's leaving, too," you mumble, turning the music up a bit louder and settling back into the seat.

Atsumu glances over at you, catching the tear running down your cheek. "Aw, y/n, yer still gonna get to see him. He'll be playing volleyball, so ya can see him when he travels. It's not forever."

You know he's right deep down, but you still can't help but feel hurt that your two closest friends for the last two years have up and left so soon together, and so far away. You were happy for them, you really were, but... Wakatoshi was right, you did feel abandoned. Forcing the tears to stay in your eyes, you look back down at Atsumu's phone and start scrolling through his liked songs on Spotify. And, they were certainly something.

It went from Hollywood Undead, to Taylor Swift, to My Chemical Romance, to MARINA. He really did listen to everything.

"Your music taste is... something. You have Corpse Husband and Sabrina Carpenter in the same playlist." You turn his phone to him even though he can't look at it.

He glances over at you and turns into the gas station, turning his focus back onto the road. "Just means I have fun at any club," he defends himself, stopping the car. "Are ya coming in?"

You nod your head, pulling down the mirror and sighing at your red eyes.

"Here, take these." Atsumu pops open the glove compartment of the car, pulling out a sleek, black case. He removes a pair of gold aviator Ray-Bans, putting them over your eyes. "Problem solved. Can ya run ahead and grab some snacks for the apartment? Just anything, yeah?"

You nod your head, picking up your phone and purse from the floor. "See you in there."

You tuck your phone and purse into the pockets of your sweatpants, fixing the sunglasses over your eyes and walking inside. You lap around the different aisles, grabbing multipacks of crisps and some different types of biscuits. You pick up a packet of chilli crisps and scan over the different drink options waiting for Atsumu.

At the sound of girls squealing behind you catches your attention, turning around to see Atsumu being huddled by a group of four girls around your age. You catch a few words here and there, and Atsumu seems to be bathing in their compliments. You shake your head and turn back to the refrigerator, picking up a bottle of white peach Fanta and slowly walking towards the counter, hoping Atsumu would catch up to you before you were served.

Sure enough, he tapa your shoulder and squeezes in beside you in the queue. "Sorry."

"Oh my god, the Miya Atsumu is talking to me. Can you sign my boobs?" you laugh through your words, unable to keep a straight face. "You love being in the spotlight."

"So what if I do? It's nice having people who appreciate ya," he responds, nudging you forward in the queue towards the empty checkout. "Pump three, and all this."

Before you have a chance to reach for your money, Atsumu lifts his card over the reader. You sigh, picking up some of the snacks to carry them back to the car with him.

“What’s that sigh for?”

“I was gonna pay for that.”

Atsumu laughs. “With what pay check?”

Your jaw drops, a laugh escaping before you can trap it. “Wow, low blow.”

You catch the stares of the fangirls lingering on you and Atsumu, fighting your urge to stick out your tongue at them. Instead, you turn your back and focus your attention fully on the car in front of you. Atsumu dumps the snacks in the backseat, leaving you with your drink and crisps.

“White peach Fanta? Yer disgusting. Don’t drink that in my nice car.” He grimaces at the thought, walking around to climb into the driver’s seat.

“What? It’s nice!”

“Nah, yer gross. But those chilli crisps are nice. Can I get some?” He waits for you to nod your head before reaching over, opening the packet and stuffing a few in his mouth before pulling out of the parking lot and heading towards the nearest KFC. “Thanks, darlin’.”

You raise an eyebrow, side-eyeing him through his sunglasses. “Why’d you do that?”

He hums. “What?”

“You keep calling me darling.” You sit your drink down beside him, taking a couple crisps yourself.

“I call everyone that. Why, d’ya want me to stop?” Concern washes over his expression, taking a fleeting glass at you to see if you were uncomfortable. “I don’t want to make ya uncomfortable, I can stop calling ya darlin’.”

You think for a second, giving him a small smile and leaning back against the seat. “I was just curious. You can keep calling me it.”

masterlist. previous | next

summary. after your best friend reveals he’s moving out of your shared flat, you’re presented with a tough choice: let one of the creeps who are begging you to let them move in with you, or find a cheaper flat in another area of town. a do-over couldn’t have come at a better time for you, but your only option for a place to stay is with someone your best friend knew from high school, and his two teammates.

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[chemblrish]

Maria Skłodowska-Curie. That's it, that's the post.

As per my poll, here's a post on MSC!

This post began as a bit of a messy thing. I wanted to write about MSC because she was a brilliant Polish woman who became one of the most important scientists of modern chemistry and physics and I, as a Polish woman and a science major, admire her greatly. But the whole thing was vague and lacked direction. I received some kindly advice though and decided to focus on this: what was Maria like? Everybody knows she had an exceptional mind, that she had close ties with Paris, that she discovered radium and polonium, that she received the Nobel prize twice… But did you know she was said to have “serious, gray eyes” or that her initial plan was to spend her life working as a teacher or that she loved her homeland deeply? Underneath her doubtlessly exceptional achievements she was a person, and I’d love to take a look at that.

Maria Skłodowska ("skwo-DOV-ska") was born on 7 November 1867 in Warsaw under Russian occupation. Her father was a mathematics and physics teacher, so it may seem natural that little Maria took an interest in science, but as a child she was a phenomenal student in general, no matter the subject; she read a lot of books, and she learnt to read very early. She was considered very gifted. 

Her family wasn’t rich by any means. Maria’s father – a Polish man, a school teacher under the tzar’s merciless reign – knew very well he couldn’t afford to give all his children the education he wanted for them, not to mention neither Maria nor her older sister Bronia were allowed to attend university in occupied Poland. Making their dreams come true – studying at the Sorbonne – depended on the money they didn’t have.

At 17 Maria made a decision: she was going to work as a teacher while Bronia pursued medicine in Paris with the help of the money earned by Maria. After Bronia’s graduation they would switch: Bronia was going to work as a doctor while Maria attended university.

It was by no means an easy task. During the following years Maria had to withstand not only immensely hard work and a longing for learning, but also unfair employers, lack of respect, and heartbreak. But she persisted. She was 24 when finally she was able to pack up and take the train to Paris.

[source]

Soon after taking up her studies at the Sorbonne did Maria realize how far behind the other students she was: they were able to pursue an official education in a free country, something she’d never gotten to experience before. She had been an excellent student back in Poland, a fluent French speaker, but now it turned out her knowledge was lacking. Obviously, this couldn’t discourage her. Bronia’s husband Kazimierz wrote in a letter to her father that Maria would spend entire days at her university, only coming home in the evening. She worked admirably hard to catch up. And she was happy: at long last she could study science and mathematics in depth, the way she had longed to do for so many years.

Of course, money never stopped being an issue. Even with her father’s and sister’s help, she was still poor. She definitely wasn’t eating enough. In winter, she was cold. Other than that, she mostly gave up on her colleagues, refused to waste her time on “insignificant” things: that is, everything but studying, unfolding the secrets of chemistry and physics, practicing her laboratory skills. She was living and breathing science.

[left / right]

Pierre Curie was older, an exceptional physicist, charming and calm, still unmarried at 35 – he wouldn’t love a woman who couldn’t be first and foremost his intellectual partner. But Maria wasn’t looking for love and she certainly wasn’t looking for a marriage. She had a degree in physics, was on her way to get a degree in mathematics as well, all the while working on the magnetism of steel. And indeed, when they met through a professor who thought Pierre might be of help to young Maria, it was mostly curiosity, mutual respect, and primarily a great scientific interest that bloomed between them and brought them closer together.

Maria didn’t give in easily. All along her plan had been to earn her degrees and return to Warsaw, to her elderly father, and remain working as a teacher for the rest of her life. But there’s no doubt that when she eventually agreed to marry Pierre, it was out of genuine, deep love. They had a sincere, precious connection, both emotional and intellectual.

Did you know Maria and Pierre loved to travel the countryside on their bikes? They did. It’s how they spent most of their time together after their wedding. And not for a moment did they forget about their shared passion for science – they discussed it even during their travels. They lived together and they worked together. Their first child Irène – future Nobel prize winner as well! – was born in September 1897, Ève – their younger daughter – seven years later.

Pierre’s family adored Maria, Maria’s family loved Pierre. The two of them would frequently visit Pierre’s parents and they continued their biking trips, but other than that their life was utterly devoted to science. I know, it sounds like I’m exaggerating, but it’s true. Along with the fact they always had very little money, work was all they had.

Radium appeared in Maria’s life when she was working on her doctorate. Her laboratory was cold, damp, and badly equipped, but it seems to me Maria’s determination was inexhaustible. She began by studying uranium, but she soon figured out she had to include other elements in her research as well in order to solve the mystery at hand. It was only after a year of this work that Maria realized she might have discovered an element previously unknown.

Pierre was interested in Maria’s research before, but – save from the occasional advice as an older and more experienced scientist – he mostly left her to do her own thing while he focused on his crystals. At this point however, he was so intrigued he abandoned his research to work with Maria on her project. In 1898 (two years into Maria’s PhD work!) they published a paper together – in it they announced the discovery of a new element: polonium, named after Maria’s beloved homeland. Later that year, they did the same for radium. They coined the term “radioactivity”.

Maria kept a meticulous journal, not only for her laboratory work. She was carefully tracking their spending as well as Irène’s development, the way she learnt to walk and speak and play with their cat.

And so, her life continued: filthy, hard work in the infamous shed, a ton of an ore for less than a gram of product (!), countless papers published with her dearest husband, watching their daughter grow, earning her doctorate degree; then, in 1903, her first Nobel prize (along with her husband and Henri Becquerel).

The Nobel prize brought Maria and Pierre fame – and it was a tragedy. For them, at least. Modest and humble as they were, they couldn’t stand the journalists almost storming their garden, going as far as “describing [their] black and white cat [in the newspapers]” as Pierre said in a letter to a friend. I allowed myself to translate a piece of a letter that Maria sent to her brother in 1904 amid the post-Nobel craze, as it’s both sad and hilarious:

“I wish you health [for your name-day], well-being for all of your family, and for you never to experience the sort of correspondence and assault that we are now subjected to. Ever since that accursed Nobel prize we’ve been unable to do anything, and I’m beginning to ask myself if the money we received will be of any consolation, as, after all, the people who sell me meat, coal, sugar, etc. are richer than me yet they do not experience such sorrows. […] and yesterday some American wrote to me, asking for permission to name a race horse after me.”

Maria’s life took a truly sharp turn when Pierre died in an accident in 1906. Despite the tragedy that irreparably crushed her heart, she never ceased her work. She became a professor, organized classes for her and her friends’ kids, ran the Radium Institute, continued her research, received her second Nobel prize. During World War I it was her mobile X-ray machines that saved countless lives: she was active and involved, operating the machines with her older daughter and teaching others how to do it.

[left / right]

She lived long enough to see her dear, beloved Poland become an independent country once more. To the very end she remained humble and uninterested in fame, hardworking and dedicated entirely to science.

I based this post mostly on Madame Curie by her daughter Ève which I highly recommend!

[study-trash-child]

Nonbinary Characters in Polish Dubbings

It's a very short list, there's a LOT more they/them characters in media but for many, I couldn't find any dubbed scenes of, and I can't afford to purchase every streaming service ever just to watch a short scene with that character so-

Onto the topic

I so stupidly enjoy finding out translation differences between languages, and what better topic that Nonbinary characters translated to a language that genders everything.

In Polish, if you say you did something, you change it depending on the gender

I was reading - czytałem (male) or czytałam (female)

I feel like it is becoming more popular to use "o" as a gender-neutral way to say something (czytałom) but it's still faaaaaaar from being legally(?) recognized by many many other people and dictionaries.

But more on it later (kinda)

Some examples I found throught the years on how different shows handled the gendered words and characters in Polish translations.

RAINE WHISPERS - The owl house

One of probably most popular characters here, Raine Whispers.

It's Disney. I think it answers a lot already.

The show already had one queer couple, why make another, Raine throught the show is using male pronouns but was voiced by a woman.

On my own note, I really was not a fan on how they changed things in the dubbing including many of the names (Amity-Anita, Willow-Witka, Flapjack - Franek)

The Collector's official pronouns are He/They but the They was simply ignored. 'Easy as that'

ANGEL and MEREKID - Craig of the creek

Never properly watched it but when we (aka my sibling and me being a parasite) had HBO I tried to find epsidoes with them to see.

There are 2 nb/agender characters in that show as far as I'm aware (for some reason I though there were 3, so sorry if there are actually 3 of them)

For one (Angel) they just used he/him.

Other episode with nonbinary kid (I believe it was merekid) is completly gone from hbo in my country.

(overall HBO has a strong problem with many episodes of shows missing, like Adventure Time missing around 30 episdoes...)

STEVONNIE and SHEP - Steven Universe

They just refer to Stevonnie as two people (we, for version that includes at least one guy. Since there is difference between polish we for only girls - robiłyśmy - and we for either girls+guys or only guys - robiliśmy - ).

SHEP

Well, uh. I believe there is some kind of dubbing for the "future" series but I don't have prime and so on so I can't confirm it as of now...Sorry :/ UPDAGE: Managed to find an episode with Shep in polish dub. Shep is dubbed by a woman but the whole episode omits any kind of gendered words ("em" "am") by Shep and everyone else.

FRANKIE STEIN (G3) - Monster High

In the new cartoon and movie they are indeed referenced to as they. Even in polish dubbing Frankie uses "o" when doing something instead of just making them a girl (for both animated show and live action movie)

That's also a part of what I mentioned that the nonbinary way of speaking is becoming more 'common' in Poland

DOUBLE TROUBLE - She-Ra

I adore them, honestly

Well, quick note or so on, their polish pronouns is He/Him (since thier body is more male presenting)

Also their name in polish is "Kłopotowski" I had no idea till now and I wish it stayed that way, I laughed

BATTLE KITTY - Battle Kitty

I so, so, soooo love this show/game (the ony interactive options is picking where you want to go next. It changes nothing in the story). It's not so popular because it's an 'interactive game' which means that many people didn't give it a chance or just skipped it but I beg you to watch it. Me and friend had a blast honestly. It's a 'game' so your only chance to see it is to watch it on netflix.

The main character Kitty is Agender and uses they/them pronouns which carries over to polish dubbing!

REVERSED EXAMPLE

Huuuuh, that's honestly unusual.

So-

Nimona, many loved it, it's a giant allegory for transidentity/ and gender fluidity. I watched it with my mom (hence in polish) that's why I even know of the change

In english Nimona refers to herself as a she and others refer to her as such.

!In polish though! (I will use Nimona's english pronouns)

While everyone else refers to Nimona as she (including Balister), Nimona refers to herself as they ("o"). Honestly, unusal, it took me a few takes of Nimona talking to herself to even catch that, not to mention be sure that it's an "o". So yeah, polish made a character even more queer! Honestly unusual.

Hope you enjoyed my little, not really insightful post. It's just something that I'm really interesed in thus decided to make this (albeit) short post. There's a lot of overall different language changes, including how polish really tries not to curse in trasnlation (amazing example would be deadpool 2) or other changes that are really random (spiderverse, the amazing digital circus).

Hey, maybe it will spark some interest in you too. Make check langauge differences as well, have fun! Or suffer. Probably the later one.

If you (somehow) have something you'd like me to check out translation vise, let me know and I'll try to do just that

Cheers!

Edit: Small add on, regarding the analisys.

You could probably figure it out yourself but it seema like big studios like Disney will be the ones pushing for characters to be of she/he pronouns. While smaller studios will have a better chance of character still being referenced to as they/them in other languages.

[blueshistorysims]

September 1st, 1939, Henford-on-Bagley, England

Byron often woke up before Eleora did. She preferred to sleep in and since she rarely ate breakfast, no one bothered to wake her up. She was probably the only duchess in the United Kingdom who did not have a lady’s maid. After living on her own and managing just fine when it came to her fancy jewels and clothes, she didn’t bother hiring one after marrying Byron. The mornings were peaceful, and she was able to self-reflect on the day before she went downstairs and became the Duchess of Feldsbury. 

In the bathtub, she stared at her nude body in the water. She wasn’t old, but her body did not look as it did when she was in her early twenties, a party girl and flapper. She’d gained weight on her sides, and her breasts weren’t as firm after two children. 

Then again, the weight gain wasn’t that surprising, rather only confirming her suspicions. She was over a month late, and the same dizziness she had during Simon-Elliot and Amalia’s first trimesters had returned. Eleora stared at herself in the mirror of her bath and knew she was expecting a child. 

She would call a doctor first before she told Byron. He was so busy and stressed, and she didn’t want to tell him the news until she had medical confirmation. War was imminent, he had told her—he just didn’t know when. 

Today was the children’s last Friday before school started. In an hour or so, she and Byron would take a train to Willow Creek College with Simon-Elliot. She and her son had visited the college in August, but she still wasn’t ready to let go of him. Yes, she knew that every male Walsh boy since when-fucking-ever had attended Willow Creek College, but it was so far south, near Southhampton. At least it was close to London, and Eleora had a feeling Byron would be spending much more time there soon. 

She heard radio chatter coming from the sitting room, and followed its voice, wondering why it was so quiet.

Everyone excluding Byron was in their pajamas, sitting on the couches and staring at the radio. The sight annoyed her. They were leaving for the train station in an hour, why were none of them dressed?

“What’s going on?” She demanded. “We’re leaving for Henford-on-Bagley station in less than an hour. Have all of you forgotten Simon-Elliot starts Willow Creek College on Monday?”

Everyone turned to stare at her, their face completely blank. 

Eleora faltered. “...What’s happened?”

Byron stood up, glancing at the radio. “Germany invaded Poland early this morning. We are at war.”

She stood here in quiet shock.

[therealvinelle]

What does Norway think of the us

Far too many things for me to begin to cover in a tumblr post.

Suffice to say: we arguably owe our welfare and current standing in the world and inarguably our liberty as a nation to the US. This has shaped our domestic and foreign policies for the past 80 years, and we are currently breathing into a paper bag about the fact that Uncle Sam is talking about breaking up with us.

Also beware, there are matters in this post which are a matter of political opinion (rare for this blog, I know), and there are nightmareishly long paragraphs in here, so read at own risk and sorry about the long paragraphs.

Readmore for length and in case I need to make edits.

Norway, the war, and the Marshall Help

Imagine: your country is invaded by Nazis in 1940, and remains occupied for five years. When you are liberated, your country's gold reserve is depleted, many places bombed, and the entirety of Northern Norway is so badly ravaged that the population is evacuated and the region deemed uninhabitable (you'll notice, today, the architecture up north is new. All of it.). To say nothing of the human toll: one third of our Jewish population was slaughtered in Auschwitz, the country is littered in war memorials and tombstones of men shot or otherwise killed by Germans, and every family has at least one wartime story.

(I will take a note to say that it's our own occupation that comes to mind when I see the war and genocide happening in Ukraine. The differences are many, but the shared horror of an invasion, the fact that this happens on European mainland and is perpetrated by a country we share a border with, makes it feel extremely close. More, if Ukraine loses... I'll get into that further below, but suffice to say "Norway's defense budget" these days is labelled "Ukraine aid")

What are you going to do when peace comes, and the time to rebuild is upon you? Well, it so happens the rest of Europe is asking itself that same question, and the United States meanwhile sees an opportunity to both help its allies, strengthen our bonds so that we'll be on the same side for the foreseeable future, and weaken the communist sympathies in Europe. It's a win-win type of deal, and so the Marshall aid is launched: billions of dollars ($13 billion then, $178 adjusted for inflation) are poured into Europe, bolstering the post-war economy and allowing the countries which accepted (all of Western Europe, save Spain and Finland. Eastern Europe and the Soviet Union declined as well.) to get back to their feet much sooner.

It's in this context that Norway's government's plans of a welfare society were possible to realize. Perhaps we would have managed it anyway, but the historically recorded fact is we did it with the help of the USA.

Then there's NATO, that beautiful response to not only the Eastern threat, but to the naivety that had reigned prior to World War II. Hitler had... helped himself... to increasing chunks of Europe, and country leaders kept saying "Well I don't want war, and I'm sure he'll be satisfied after that. Oh no, he invaded Poland?! Oh well I'm sure he'll be satisfied with- oh no, he's entered France!"

NATO means "Invade one, you fight us all", and while it may have come to mean "one invades Afghanistan, so now I guess we're all going" and even "boy Ukraine is having it rough huh. But we can't do anything without getting NATO involved, and that'll launch a new world war :/", and de facto "if NATO ever acts against Russia that will be world war three. Hang on, what's NATO for then?", NATO at its core still means "I am in NATO, so Uncle Sam will protect me. :)"

Which makes countries like Norway feel very safe. And, I cannot overemphasize, is why we've felt safe for the past 70+ years.

Which brings us to the next section.

That border. That border!!

If you look at a map of Norway, you'll see a long and happy border to Sweden. There has been much discourse (and war, war, war) over that border, I for one still think it would be nice if they gave us back Bohuslän, but overall we are very close and good allies.

Look a little further up, however. Yes, past the border to Finland.

Is that...

(photo credit)

Oh no, it's Russia!

This hasn't always been an oh no. We lived peacefully side by side frankly always, and the Soviets liberated Finnmark from the Nazis which was wonderful of them. Then Norway accepted the Marshall Aid, however, and while our governing party had had strong communist sympathies prior to the war (and after...) this cemented our ties to the United States. Our side in the Cold War had been chosen.

Border relations with Russia have been good, they have had to be good, but NATO was our safety and security during a very tense period of time. (This comedy skit is very funny but... kind of true... as does the entire Whaledimir debacle (adorable whale charmed the country, but was Whaledimir a Russian spy? Somehow, the answer appears to be yes.) The Russo-Ukrainian war has made relations historically bad, however. (Norwegian news article on the topic, if you feel like translating.)

Where am I going with this?

Norway has a shared border with Russia. Norway would not be capable of defending Finnmark if Russia invaded from the shared border, and having Sweden and Finland join NATO makes us feel better but the defense strategy has still been (and remains) "we defend what we can until US reinforcements arrive". One of the sexiest things the US has done this year was send a massive war ship sailing into our waters, just to say hello and show off their presence. MUCH APPRECIATED.

And, again, this might seem very remote and like the plot of a bad political thriller to the cursory anon and even to many Norwegians, but we were invaded in the last century, we have a shared border, a strategically important coastline and a lot of natural resources (oil!), and should Ukraine (god forbid) lose the war, the question will be this: what does Russia do next? What, specifically, does NATO and the US do if Putin for instance decides to take Svalbard? Is anyone risking nuclear war over Svalbard? What about Finmark? What about cyber attacks, underwater cable att- oh wait there were two underwater cables cut open yesterday.

Gee, that's not worrying at all.

In summation

America is a very important trade partner, and the cultural and political influence you have on us (on all of Europe, really) is immense. I imagine most asked would focus on that, especially on Norway's thoughts on the election, but you asked me and so you get my answer. Your election was a sports match to us (or at least covered by media and social media like one).

I will say this: Trump's first victory had us worried, and we have spent more on defense since then, but his second victory proves the first was not a fluke and the United States is shifting away from us. This is not something we can influence, as it is the will of the American people (or at the very least what they voted for), what we must do is adapt. I, a lifelong opponent to Norway joining the European Union, now see no other way if Norway is to prosper (though the EU also needs a major makeover to survive now, on our own without the US we are all shaking in our knees here in Europe). Likewise, to paraphrase a very good op-ed, Norway's national security neither can depend on a few undecided voters in Wisconsin who aren't thinking about Europe or Norway at all, nor should it.

We have been too dependent on the United States, this has been mutually beneficial and if it was up to us, this wouldn't change (I am now ignoring a faction on the far left which has been saying "Guys, I have a great idea: we should leave NATO :)" and another faction on the far right which is so eager to please Trump-senpai they think Norway is supporting Ukraine's effort because we're stupid), sadly it seems the US wants it to change.

We shall see what happens.