#faith x bertie

[jomiddlemarch]

That it alone is high fantastical

“Oh, Mother, you’ll never guess! You’ll never guess in century of guessing!” Rilla cried out, sounding so much as she had as a little girl, for a moment, Anne could convince herself the War had never happened and that somewhere in Rainbow Valley, Walter sat writing a crown of sonnets in his leather-bound journal, his face dappled by the light, back braced against the bole of a birch tree, his grey eyes unfocused as he searched for his next word.

There was still a white stone in the graveyard. Shirley was in Toronto, having refused (albeit politely) to return to Glen St. Mary, much to Susan’s dismay, and Jem walked with a pronounced limp, his uneven gait announcing him as much as Mary’s voice.

There was a mystery there, Jem and Mary Vance, but Anne couldn’t see any way through it and Gilbert, lying beside her in bed, both of them tired but sleepless, told her not to try. Jem had seemed less removed, less falsely cheerful lately, and had begun talking about the medical course again, perhaps a specialty in obstetrics, a hospital practice. As far away from men dying in battle as he can get, Gilbert had observed and Anne had recalled Joyce’s little face, white as a mayflower blossom, and held her tongue.

Rilla, remarkably, given her exuberant entrance, had done the same in the absence of Anne’s response. Miss Oliver had left Ingleside some weeks ago, so there was no one to suggest Rilla either elaborate or calm herself, as her likeness to a whistling copper tea-kettle was increasingly pronounced.

“If I’ll never guess, dear, you must tell me,” Anne said. It was a relief that Rilla could still be the young girl she ought to be, for all that she wore Ken Ford’s diamond ring on her finger and was capable of a brisk, warm matronliness when it came to raising Jims, now reserved for the writing of letters to his new British stepmother and clucking over the missives she received.

“Faith Meredith has eloped!”

Anne did admit to herself she would never have guessed that, because for all her imagination, she wouldn’t have guessed something impossible.

“But, Rilla, Jem is with your father today, doing the Lowbridge rounds. Susan and I packed a lunch with plenty of pie for Dad and some of that flapjack Jem took to after being in England,” Anne said. He’d been in hospital in England, recovering from the injuries he’d sustained at the Front, in the prison camp, during his escape, none of which was spoken of. Only flapjack and stewed tea and how no cook in England was a patch on Susan and that you may tie to, uttered with some semblance of his old roguish humor.

“I didn’t say she married Jem, Mother!” Rilla exclaimed. Her cheeks were pink and her eyes were bright. She had a look of Gilbert at his most delighted about him, an expression Anne remembered from their childhood. Anne opened her mouth to speak but Rilla interrupted.

“It’s Bertie Shakespeare Drew! Faith Meredith is Mrs. Bertie Shakespeare!” Rilla said.

If Anne hadn’t already been sitting down, she would have, suddenly and gracelessly. As it was, the shirt she’d been mending fell from her lap.

“That’s—why, Rilla, are you sure?”

“I heard it directly from Mary Vance,” Rilla said, lifting a hand to stop Anne from speaking. “And Miss Cornelia Bryant. You know Miss Cornelia has no taste for gossip. Miss Cornelia’d heard it from Mrs. Meredith—”

“Poor Rosemary,” Anne said, before she could stop herself.

“Why poor Rosemary? I suppose they thought Faith and Jem would make a go of it, at least, perhaps Reverend Meredith and Mrs. Meredith did, but the War’s done funny things to people and Faith and Jem, they just didn’t fit any longer,” Rilla said. Sometimes, Anne felt Rilla reminded her of someone she couldn’t name and realized her youngest daughter spoke with the wisdom Anne’s own mother might have had. Plenty of folks in the Glen would find such a thought eerie, but Anne was comforted, for all that she ought to be the one offering a thoughtful explanation rather than receiving it.

“I suppose I meant the surprise, an elopement—”

“They must not have wanted to wait. Or were afraid someone would try to talk them out of it. Bertie’s mother maybe,” Rilla said.

Rosemary or her father, Anne thought. Jem, if he’d been given the chance, perhaps. Perhaps not, if Rilla was correct.

“Bertie Shakespeare Drew,” Anne said. “I remember when he was born. He’s just Jem’s age.”

“He’s not much like you remember him, Mother. He’s all tall and stalwart now and they say he’s going in for engineering, that he learned quite a bit in France, found he had a talent for that sort of thing. And his ears don’t stick out quite so much anymore,” Rilla said.

“There’re more things on heav’n and earth,” Anne said, mangling the quote a bit, fairly certain Rilla would not correct her. “D’you suppose Faith calls him Bertie? Or his full name—it’s quite a mouthful.”

Queenly Faith Meredith, the undisputed beauty of Glen St. Mary, who had a sense of humor but also a sense of herself as beyond any teasing, now to be Mrs. Bertie Shakespeare Drew. Anne smiled to herself and thought how Mary Vance would find a way to make Jem grin over it all. She’s lucky to get him, Mary would say, reversing the order the Glen would have assumed, and Mary, canny and unexpectedly kind, would have the right of it, perhaps.

Susan would be quite outraged and the pastry of her next pie might suffer for it, but Gilbert had always taken an unchristian glee in Susan’s outrage and wouldn’t mind the pastry being a bit heavier. It was still the best piecrust on Prince Edward Island, now that Mrs. Rachel Lynde was no longer living to give Susan a run for her money.

“Miss Cornelia said Faith was heard to call him Will, when she spoke to her parents. It’s after Shakespeare of course, and because he was so determined they marry,” Rilla said. 

“And because Faith wanted to,” Anne said. She wasn’t sure if she meant the elopement or the name, but it was all of a piece.

“Miss Cornelia said they’d gone to New York for their honeymoon and she hoped Faith didn’t come back with a bunch of silly Yankee airs but Mary and I didn’t think that was likely,” Rilla said, sitting down beside Anne, picking up the shirt and starting to sew.

“She didn’t come back from England any different, after all,” Rilla said.

“Except that she didn’t marry your brother,” Anne replied.

“D’you know, Mother, even without the War, I don’t think they’d ever have gone through with it, Faith and Jem,” Rilla said. “It was, how shall I put it, like a childhood fairy tale, the honorable knight and the maiden fair, all sorts of adventures they had in Rainbow Valley. They were always going to grow up. We all were.”

Not Walter, Anne’s heart said. Not Joyce.

“I’m glad of Ken’s name, anyway. And don’t worry, I wouldn’t elope for anything. I want our families around us, as many as we can get, even if we have to wait. We’re rather good at that,” Rilla said. She’d finished the one shirt and picked up another. She peered at it, frowned. “I can’t think what Dad does to his clothes—”

“I’ve made up a thousand stories to try to explain that and I still don’t think I’ve figured it out,” Anne said. “Some things, my darling girl, are beyond explanation.”

This one's for @freyafrida because I didn't manage to squeeze Faith/Bertie Shakespeare into my Jem/Mary fic...

[nobigneil]

via NeilNewbon on Insta:📷 A very very overdue post and thank you to @cellarsociety @phelper29 #bertiederougemont and everyone past and present at this extraordinary beautiful , world renowned and awesome catering company - without the support of Bertie and Adam and all the team , there would have been literally no way I could have sustained myself as an actor - especially during the hardest of years - myself like so many artists, actors, writers, models, dancers and kids trying to get by in London owe them and the company a heartfelt debt of gratitude 🙏 x they found me in a bar - put their faith and belief in me and asked me to join them as a waiter then a team sergeant- they were kind, fun, transparent and professional they gave me great advice , belief , work and a much needed kick up the ass at the right time - I worked for them for well over a decade and i owe them a very public thank you x Love u folks loads - if you are lucky enough to afford them - this is the team you need to make your wildest event dreams come true x simply Stirling x once again Bertie, Adam thank you sincerely - I got nominated for a @bafta this year and wore my old catering shoes (still polished ha!) in honour of the journey with you all x hope you are grand and flourishing x

[thetempleofthemasaigoddess]

Bellona’s videos masterlist - TV series - part 1 (95)

The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power

“And in an instant I knew… that I’d grow old with you, Marigold”

Elendil’s name meaning

Elendil and Galadriel go to the Hall of Lore

The Harfoots prepare for the migration

The Alfrin seeds

A plea to the stone / Elrond and Durin discuss their fathers

Elrond meets Disa… and stays for dinner

Galadriel’s childhood in Valinor

Míriel faces the Sea Trial

Sauron is betrayed by the Uruk

King Durin faces the Balrog

The Cirdan cut - part one

The Cirdan cut - part two

*****

Hawkeye

Kate helps Clint on the phone

*****

Willow

The Bone Reavers celebrate Jade’s return

“And this time… don’t you dare hold back.”

*****

Prison Break

Sara comforts Lincoln on the eve of his execution

Lincoln prepares for his execution - part one

Lincoln prepares for his execution - part two

Lincoln prepares for his execution - part three

*****

Doctor Who

“Really, Doctor, tell me, who are you?”  

“There is me.”

Bill Potts meets the Doctor

The Doctor’s lecture

Bill enters the TARDIS

John Bishop as Dan Lewis

Tecteun and the Timeless Child

*****

Crossing Lines

The team celebrates Tommy’s birthday

*****

Twin Peaks

The discovery of the body of Laura Palmer

Agent Dale Cooper arrives in town and meets Sheriff Truman

The Black Lodge and Denise Bryson

The Log Lady phones Hawk - part one

The Log Lady phones Hawk - part two

Agent Cooper prepares to leave Twin Peaks… and then he doesn’t

Michael Cera as Wally Brando

Gordon Cole speaks to Denise Bryson

*****

Our Flag Means Death

Stede and Ed’s first meeting

*****

The Sandman

Dream battles Lucifer

*****

What We Do in the Shadows

The Night Market

The Temple of the Blood-Devourers

The Staten Island Lycanthrope-Vampire Agreement of 1993

Dave Bautista as Garrett… the Vampire

Nandor, Laszlo and Nadja face the Vampiric Council - part one

Nandor, Laszlo and Nadja face the Vampiric Council - part two

*****

Fleabag

Fleabag and the Priest sleep together

*****

John Doe

“Did I mention that I know… everything?”

*****

Camelot

Gawain is recuited in Camelot’s army - part one

Gawain is recuited in Camelot’s army - part two

Merlin’s magic

Arthur is crowned King of Britain

Arthur marries Guinevere and Leontes

Gawain trains the King’s men

*****

Big Wolf on Campus

Tommy and Merton discuss The Lost Boys

*****

Almost Human

Kennex meets Dorian

*****

Lost

Jin visits his father

Sun meets Jin’s father

Sayid meets Danielle Rousseau - part one

Sayid meets Danielle Rousseau - part two

Sayid meets Danielle Rousseau - part three

Hurley meets Danielle Rousseau

*****

The Falcon and the Winter Soldier

Zemo escapes from the Raft

Sam and Bucky’s “couple therapy” with dr. Raynor

Bucky brings Sam to meet Isaiah Bradley

Isaiah Bradley’s story

Sam, Bucky and Zemo on the plane

Isaiah’s story at the Smithsonian

Bucky and Zemo make amends (… sort of)

*****

Call the Midwife

Sister Evangelina’s Jubilee

The train accident

The aftermath of the train accident - part one

The aftermath of the train accident - part two

The aftermath of the train accident - part three

The aftermath of the train accident - part four

*****

Sense8

What’s Up? by 4 Non Blondes

The wedding of Amanita and Nomi

*****

Downton Abbey

Edith and Bertie make peace

The wedding of Edith and Bertie

The arrival of baby Bates

*****

The X-Files

Mulder and Scully discuss the Power of faith

Mulder and Scully visit The Lone Gunmen (and Deep Throat) at Arlington Cemetery

*****

Game of Thrones

Arya trains with Syrio Forel

Tyrion and the Night Watch

Robb Stark is declared the King in the North

Jon Snow is declared the King in the North

Brienne tells Podrick the story of how she met Renly

Sam Tarly and Gilly arrive at Horn Hill

Benjen Stark saves Bran and Meera

*****

Moon Knight

Marc and Steven meet Tawaret

*****

The Alienist

“A toast. To the beginning of a fruitful partnership“

*****

Midnight, Texas

Manfred meets Creek and Lemuel

The Rev arrives in Midnight

Olivia and Lemuel get married

*****

Pushing Daisies

The story of young Ned

*****

12 monkeys

Jennifer’s plan to recover The Word of the Witness

*****

Bellona's masterlist

[schrijverr]

Me reflected in your eyes

Since it was so dark on the moon, Tim has no clue what Jonny looks like. When Jonny finds out one of his lovers survived, he is desperate to make sure Tim never finds the link, so that the other can’t become mad at him or blame him. But it is pretty hard to hide such things and Tim never blamed Jonny for a moment.

On AO3.

Ships: Tim x Jonny (x Bertie, but he’s already dead at the start of the fic)

Warnings: grief, low self esteem, mentions of war.

~~~~~~~~~~~

It was dark on the moon, this was not uncommon knowledge, but people sometimes didn’t realize to which extent that fact was true. The soldiers would get vitamin D supplements just to survive and most had no clue what their comrades looked like.

This was also true for Jonny and The Toy Soldier, this was great news for The Toy Soldier, since now less people realized how deeply unsettling the wooden soldier could be, but it was less then ideal for Jonny.

You see, Jonny had fallen in love on the moon.

Yes, the great Jonny d’Ville, known for his emotional constipation had found not one, but two people who loved him despite the ways he found himself to be lacking. Tim and Bertie had held him and told him how much they loved him, even if they’d never even seen his face.

Jonny both loved and hated this. On one hand, he was convinced the two would stop loving him the moment they saw him, but on the other hand, the not seeing made this little bit of joy last longer and prolonged the time before he would be rejected.

He knew he wasn’t that much of a catch, many people had told him his manic eyes could be unsettling and he was on the short side with a baby-face. Jonny never liked the way he looked and his personality also wasn’t winner material, but the two had loved him regardless of that.

It probably wouldn’t have lasted, though. Not that it matter now, the moon was gone and so were Tim and Bertie.

Sighing again he looked out of the window of the observation deck once more. The stars were peaceful and Jonny liked getting lost in them.

A small cough pulled him out of his thoughts and he turned to see Nastya. She looked uncertain, which made worry bubble up in Jonnys chest as he asked: “What’s wrong?”

“Uhm, well, you see, Jonny. Me and Brain were clearing out the docs lab and, uhm, there is a person there.” Nastya said.

“What?” Jonny exclaimed.

“I wouldn't have bothered you with it if he wasn’t halfway to mechanized and it seems unlikely we can reverse the process, but that’s not all…” Nastya trailed off, uncertain.

“What are you not telling me?” Jonny said in a vaguely threatening tone.

Nastya reached into her coat and pulled out a necklace as she said: “He had these hanging around his neck.”

Jonny stepped closer taking the necklace to inspect the dangling pieces of metal only to stumble backwards in shock, eyes wide, fear in his heart. It was not just a necklace, it were dog tags. Dog tags that read: Tim, G.

“It- it can’t be.” he said.

“I’m sorry, Jonny. I thought you would like to know.” Nastya told him, “I can complete the process or he can stay half-mechanized, but I don’t know what that will do to him long term. So far only me and Brian know, who he is and that he’s even here, if you’d like us to not tell the others or something, we will.”

“No one can know about this. Take me to him.” Jonny demanded.

In the lab Brian was organizing stacks of papers and clearing away most of the experiments that had been on display, in the center of the room there was a familiar examination table, with on it a prone form of a young man that Jonny recognized to be Tim from their short introduction at the Moon Kaisers throne.

“Are you okay, Jonny?” Brain asked worriedly, when he came strolling in.

“Do I look like I’m alright?” Jonny snapped at him as he walked over to the table, inspecting Tim closely. He was as pretty as Bertie always said he was, even with his face half open and full of metal. Jonnys heart clenched, Tim didn’t deserve this faith.

He carded a hand through Tims long hair and a small strained smile appeared on his face at the familiar sensation. He could feel Brian and Nastya looking at him, but he couldn't find the strength inside him to snap at them for it.

“How did she find him?” he asked softly instead.

“According to his file, she thought it was you in the little space shuttle, but no other details are known.” Brian answered.

A pang went through Jonnys heart, this was his fault. Carmilla had gotten her hands on Tim in an attempt to find him. It was his fault he would never be able to find Bertie in the afterlife, if that even existed, or find peace if it didn’t.

He swallowed heavily and asked: “Do you think you can successfully fix him up completely?”

“I mean, it would take a while and it might not be as seamless as other mechanizations, but I think I can figure it out with her notes.” Nastya told him.

Jonny thought about it for a moment. He looked at Tims ripped open face, then at the slow rise and fall of his chest.

“Do it, don’t tell the others who he is and don’t mention me to him.” it might be selfish, Jonny knew it was selfish, but seeing Tim, alive, he couldn't find it within himself to leave him like that. Tim might be angry, but that would only be once he made the connection, if Jonny just kept his mouth shut, he would be able to witness this, one of the loves of his life, being there, even if it was just out of reach.

With that Jonny turned around and left, only managing to keep up a strong facade until he was in the comforts of his room where he broke down crying, clutching the dog tags.

He stayed in his room for nearly an entire month. He was sure the others had caught on to the fact that something was wrong with him, but he didn’t care. Jonny had no time for Ashes asking if they needed to burn someone alive for him, or The Toy Soldier asking if he needed some tea or even Ivy asking if she could help him in some way.

What he needed was for Tim to be okay and not mad at him. He needed the other to know everything and tell him it wasn’t his fault. For Tim to hold him, like he had done so many times so that Jonny could just take a breath and not feel like the weight of his decision was crushing him and making him feel like he was going to break in two.

The only person he reacted to was Nastya, who knocked on his door and called out: “If everything goes to plan, he should wake up somewhere this week, I though you’d like to know.”

“Thank you. Have the other said anything?” Jonny asked.

“So far they think it’s the reality of the doc being gone that’s crashing down on you.” Nastya told him, “Me and Brian have not discouraged this.”

Jonny nodded even if Nastya couldn't see it. The silence between them hung heavily, until Nastya said: “I have to go now, please take care of yourself, Jonny. Aurora tells me you died too many times in there, I’m getting worried.”

“Piss off.” Jonny managed to push out of his throat, sinking back onto his mattress willing the world away as Nastyas footsteps disappeared down the hall.

About a month later Ashes was knocking at his door as they yelled: “Jonny, I’m fed up with your bullshit, I know everything sucks right now, but I don’t care that you don’t want to meet another one of her creations or something. This new guy needs everyones support, even your grumpy ass, so you better get out there and at least say hi.”

Jonny was quiet, so Ashes said: “He already knows there is another member he hasn’t met yet and he thinks you already hate him for no reason at all. Please, just push your own issues aside for a second.”

That made Jonny look up, the idea that Tim thought he hated him was enough for him to move. He stank like hell and looked a mess, however, so he knocked three times on the door.

“Alright, you get fifteen minutes, but I’m waiting here for you and I will blow up your door if you aren’t here by then.” Ashes said.

Quickly jumping into the shower and getting himself dressed, Jonny was done in ten. He probably still looked like he’d been beaten by the sandman in a bad way, but that couldn't be helped.

“There you are, I was kind of expecting the octokittens to have eaten you by this point.” Ashes joked, but Jonny wasn’t really in a mood for that, if even one person had slipped up and told Tim his name, he would be fucked.

Ashes seemed to catch on and said: “Brian and Nastya really pressed us to not mention your name to the new guy, I don’t know what happened, but he’s not so bad. I’ll respect it, only because I know you wouldn't fuck with another mech for no reason, but don’t be too hard on him, okay.”

Jonny nodded, lump in his throat. He was mentally prepping himself for what to even do when he met Tim. He couldn't talk or Tim would know, but staying silent would be weird.

Lost in his thoughts as he was, he missed getting to the room Tim was in until he heard Ashes say: “This is the latest guy.”

Then a familiar voice said: “Uhm, hello, I’m Gunpowder Tim, but most just call me Tim. No one mentioned your name yet.”

Looking up Jonny came face to face with Tim, his eyes were horrible, and faintly Jonny remember how Bertie used to wax poetry about them and he was sad he never got to see them, but still the beauty of Tim was overpowering.

Alive and standing he seemed more human. He was taller than Jonny had realized and in perfect proportion and when he smiled a shy smile, he could see that all his perfect teeth had survived his mechanization.

In short, Tim was gorgeous and Jonny had never felt less worthy.

If he had been planning on making any noise, it would have died in his throat. Instead he just stood there as silently as he had intended to be.

When the silent dragged on, Tim got more uncomfortable as Ashes raised a brow at him. They asked: “Are you gonna say anything?”

Jonny swallowed and opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He had no clue what to do, if he were to talk he would have to explain and he- he- he just couldn't right now. His mouth snapped closed and he stumbled backwards.

“Are you okay?” Tim asked and all the times he’d asked that after a battle flitted through Jonnys mind as he collapsed to the floor.

He could hear Tim ask Ashes what had happened, while Ashes sighed: “He’s not always the best mentally, I- I have no clue what set him off, but it’s not your fault. Could you be a dear and go see if you can fetch Nastya? Tell her the idiot is being himself again.”

“Yeah, of course.” and Tim ran off.

Ashes then turned to Jonny and crouched down as they asked: “Wanna tell me what the fuck happened?”

“I- I can’t- voice- it won’t.” Jonny stammered, unable to put in to words what was going on with him, as he broke down crying.

Right at that moment Tim returned with Nastya, if Jonnys vision hadn’t been clouded by tears he would have seen the guilty and concerned expression on Tims face. Nastya took in the scene and sighed: “Goddammit.”

“Come here, cowboy.” she told Jonny as she hoisted him up, “No use in giving Tim a guilt complex or something, you don’t want that right?”

Jonny shook his head and Nastya told Tim: “He’s in a bit of a strange head space right now, but I promise you that he is glad to meet you. Sometimes, words, you know? He will write you an apology when he’s up to it.”

She led Jonny away from Tim, hoping Ashes would be of some help on Tims end. The poor lad hadn’t had it easy since he woke up, with the sudden loss of everything he knew and the patch job of a mechanism shoved into his face. The fact that he was coping as well as he was, was frankly a freaking miracle.

Back in Jonnys room she said: “Okay, I know you probably weren’t there by choice, but he is on the edge of breaking. I feel like denial is what’s keeping him going right now, so you’re going to write a nice letter for him and stay out of his way for a while, alright?”

Mutely Jonny nodded, then he whispered: “Thank you, Nastya. Can you- can you keep an eye on him?”

“What do you think me and Aurora have been doing? I got your back, don’t worry about it, just try to figure out what the fuck you’re gonna do, because you’re not going to be able to hide this for forever. And it is going to be forever.” Nastya told him, before she walked out of the room.

That night Jonny spend hours bent over his little desk, fucking up his back in an attempt to get his messy ‘I-went-to-school-for-only-three-years-or-something-give-me-a-break’ handwriting into a neat and coherent apology/explanation:

Deer Tim,

My apologys for my urlyr behaver. I dont know what the others have told you about the crew before you came aboord, but it changed recently and I have been attemting to just work threw that. This has nothing to do with you, sorry.

I hope your ajusting well to this new life. And I hope we can become friends or at leest akwaintences at some point, because you seem like a okay guy.

I will attemt to carry a notebook with me, so that we can talk, because my voice is kind of fucked right now.

Hope this helps.

That would have to do, Jonny thought. It was both a good excuse not to use his voice and make Tim suspicious and it would hopefully make Tim feel better about everything, which had been the final goal.

The letter was nothing like Jonny wished he could say to Tim, nothing like the thousand of apologies that had played through his mind and the million ways he’d come up with to attempt to make things right again and be able to keep Tim close once more.

Jonny handed the letter to Nastya, who promised to hand it on, before he went on his day. He might be dealing with a lot right now, but so were the others and as First Mate, he should be there for them.

It actually went well, the others were getting by as good as possible and it felt good to have the weight that was Carmilla of their shoulders. Jonny was careful with speaking, always checking to see if Tim was near before opening his mouth, but it worked.

After that weeks passed by. Jonny saw Tim a total of three times and had manages each interaction without speaking or making Tim upset in any way.

Tim himself, however, was not doing so hot after a while. The reality of everything had finally caught up to him and he was using his newfound armory to let out his frustrations and anguish on a bunch of crates.

Jonny wanted nothing more than to go over and hug Tim, tell him that he felt his pain and that he missed Bertie too, but he refrained.

It was better to let Tim work through the grief without adding his own to it. It was better for Tim to not know that one of the people he had loved was responsible for what had happened to him. It was better to let him think Jonny was gone too and not have to come to terms with the betrayal.

Through Carmilla, Jonny knew firsthand how it felt to be betrayed by someone you trusted in this way and he wasn’t about to let Tim go through the same.

For about four months explosions and rage echoed through the halls, before it seemed Tim had worked through the anger stage. In that time Jonny had avoided him as much as possible, knowing he would be unable to stop himself if he were to see him.

Tims process was hard on the other members of the crew as well, but all had similar touches with grief and were used to staying quiet and out of the way of someones wrath.

When the raging stopped all had been walking on eggshells, waiting for the other shoe to drop, but it became clear after a while that Tim was now just lying in his room, not interacting with the world around him.

Aurora reported his first death of starvation a while later and it was decided that Brian should go up and check on him.

The Pilot came back a long while later to report that Tim had not noticed he died and thought he had fallen asleep and that Tim had freaked out a lot, before collapsing and saying he didn’t care anyway and had wrapped himself up in a bunch of blankets again.

It was about a year after Tim had been pulled aboard the Aurora that he had processed most of what had happened to him the best a mech ever would.

He made fast friends with Ashes and was often found in Brians company as well as rekindling his friendship with TS. He also tried to talk with Jonny, but Jonny wasn’t quite ready for that yet and almost always shut down whenever Tim tried, leaving the poor gun-lover confused.

Jonny had come up with an infinite amount of ways to tell Tim it was him and explain what had happened, but none seemed good enough and every scenario he could come up with ended in Tim hating him.

Beside, it seemed like Tim had finally managed to get himself together and Jonny was determined to not be the one to pull him apart again.

But as Nastya had already said, he wasn’t going to be able to hide this forever and soon enough he found himself caught in a reveal.

Tim had obviously caught on to the fact that he didn’t like talking to him and that everyone referred to the First Mate with a moniker instead of his name, almost as if they were trying to hide something from him and he was confused about what.

He had gathered that Nastya and this mysterious guy were closest and had gone to her to ask what he had done wrong.

Jonny on the other hand considered Auroras engine room, also known as Nastyas safe space, as his own safe space. He’d go there to bitch and whine or to sit in silence comfortably, knowing she wouldn't ask and just offer a hug.

Today, he was coming in to annoy her, since she had been holed up for a week and Jonny had deemed that enough lack of social interaction. He threw open her door, not noting that there were two figures in there, and loudly yelled: “A normal person needs interaction and you had enough you-time with Aurora, lets bitch about life.”

Instead of the groan of annoyance he was expecting, he got a small gasp from Nastya, then a loud yell in an achingly familiar voice: “Jonny? It’s you?”

His eyes met Tims as they grew wide and in his momentary panic, he replied: “If I say no, will you believe me?”

“You- you- you survived? You’re- you’re immortal.” Tims voice broke.

Jonny swallowed, completely unequipped to deal with this. He stood frozen in place until Tim got up, at which point he turned around and got the fuck out of there, the whole situation making his head hazy with stress.

He locked his door behind him. Looking around his messy room, he decided that this was his new home for the rest of eternity now, because he didn’t think he was ever going to be ready to deal with that confrontation ever.

Alas he only got a full three seconds of peace before someone was banging on his door. It wasn’t hard to figure out who it was and his suspicions were confirmed when Tim called out: “Love, angel, darling talk to me. I know you’re in there.”

At first Jonny wanted to stay quiet, pretend he wasn’t in there, but the knocking and calling out continued, until it became weaker and weaker and Jonny could hear sobs from the other side of the door.

“Go away, please.” that had not been what he wanted to say, but Tim was still in shock and the moment he thought about it, he would be mad at Jonny and Jonny didn’t think his heart could take that.

Tim gasped, shocked. Then he heard a chocked back cry before Tims footsteps disappeared down the hall.

With Tim gone Jonny allowed himself to fully break down. This was it, Tim knew. Now he was shocked, but then he’d think about it and see how it was Jonnys fault this happened and he’d get mad at Jonny and take back all the times he’d told him he’d loved him, which were the only memories keeping his sane right now.

He would probably tell the others what happened and Tim was a sweetheart and incredibly precious, so who wouldn't be on his side and then they wouldn't want Jonny there and he’d be tossed out and on his own again.

Not that he didn’t deserve it, but it would still hurt.

Jonny didn’t know how long he sat there, but he was pretty sure he died of dehydration a few times and it felt like he had become one with the floor.

A loud knock startled Jonny out of the emotional blocked out trance he had been in and Ashes called out: “Oh my fucking god, Jonny, get you stupid ass out here now and go apologize to Tim and make things right or I swear to everything unpleasant that I will burn all your stuff.”

“What?” Jonny replied, startled.

He of course did not know that Tim had done nearly the same routine of locking himself into his room and crying, however, Tim had been more responsive to outside help and let Ashes in. He had told them everything and they had gotten pissed on his behalf.

You see, Tim had not interpreted everything as Jonny had feared, instead he had assumed that Jonny had never even loved him, but had seen him and Bertie as a little plaything that fell away compared to his immortal lifespan.

When Ashes heard this incredibly stupid explanation of events they had filled the blanks that had confused them about Jonnys behavior the past year and marched to his room to yell at him for being a dumbass.

“He thinks you hate him, go tell him you love him.” Ashes told him.

“What!” Jonny exclaimed, tugging open his door with a shocked face at the same time Tim came running into the hall: “Ashes, no, don’t-”

On the side of his face there was a little blood, it was clear that Ashes had killed him to get a head start to Jonnys room, but he still managed to look breathtakingly beautiful.

For a moment Jonny was speechless, open and closing his mouth helplessly while he waved his arm around meaninglessly. Then he swallowed and brokenly asked: “You really think that?”

“Think what?” Tim replied, sounding so vulnerable.

“Do you really think I hate you?” Jonnys eyes were full of heartbreak and his voice full of disbelief.

“Why are you acting like that’s such a weird conclusion, Jonny?” Tim asked him, “Why are you acting like you didn’t ignore me for a year and desperately tried not to have me find out who you were while I mourned you? While I was alone? I missed you, I needed you and you weren’t there.”

Jonny didn’t know what hurt more, the broken tone of Tims voice or the use of his name. Tim took so much joy in finding the sappiest petnames to use and Jonny had almost forgotten how his own name sounded in that voice.

Tear sprung in his eyes and he hardly noticed Ashes quickly backing away as he answered: “Because you should be hating me right now.”

Tim sighed, all the frustration and anger leaking out of him as he said: “Why do you always think that you’re to blame? We tried so hard to tell you how worthy you are, why do you always do this to yourself?”

The tears now really started to fall as Jonny fell to his knees, sobs tearing from his throat. He didn’t know why he always blamed himself, it just always seemed so logical that he was the thing that messed everything up.

He was just babbling, apologizing over and over again when Tims knees appeared through the watery haze of tears and two arms wrapped around him.

Tim pulled him close and kissed his temple as he rocked him back and forth every so slightly, like all the times Jonny had had a nightmare in the trenches. He whispered into his hair: “It’s okay, it’s alright, love, just let it out. I’m not mad at you, I still love you.”

Jonny was barely able to form words, but his mind clamped onto how important it was that Tim knew how much he loved him as well, so he chocked out: “I love you too, so so much.”

The arms around him squeezed him for a moment and Tim brokenly told him: “I know, dear, I know.”

They could’ve sat there for eternities and not have noticed with how lost they were in one another, just glad to have the other safe in their arms. They might be missing someone, but at least they could bear that heartbreak together, at least they weren’t alone, not again.

Never again.

[teamfreewilllover]

Almost Lover: Part 3 - Xavier Plympton Imagine

Part 1 Part 2

“Are you sure we’re going the right way?” Y/N inquired, holding the map out in front of her.

“Definitely” Xavier replied, trying to make his voice sound convincing.

“Really? Because the directions said to take a left at the phone box” Y/N stated.

“Forget about the map, we have something much more reliable” Xavier told her, as she raised an eyebrow.

“What’s that?” Y/N questioned.

“Instincts, baby” Xavier grinned.

“We’re doomed” Y/N teased, as Xavier shook his head fondly.

Y/N turned her attention to the back of the van, and sniggered when she saw Chet and Ray with their shirts off, seemingly comparing their abs.

“C’mon, Xavier. You next, let’s see what you’ve got” Chet announced, as went to sit behind the pair’s seats.

“I’m driving” Xavier retorted.

“So? I’ll take over for a couple of miles. Let’s see if your jazzexercise has managed to put any meat on those bones” Chet insisted, as he patted his biceps.

“Dude, I’m trying to concentrate on driving here” Xavier rolled his eyes.

“Alright...wouldn’t want you to embarrass yourself in front of the ladies anyways” Chet mocked.

“Well, do you know what the ladies really like Chet? A tall guy. As in 5’10 and over” Y/N smirked.

“Hey, I’m only a centimetre off 5’10” Chet grumbled.

“Well, a centimetre makes all the difference. You should know” Y/N teased, looking down to his crotch.

The group erupted into a fit of laughter at the comment, as Montana practically fell off her seat she was laughing so much.

“Yeah well...whatever” Chet mumbled, crossing his arms.

“Thanks” Xavier smiled at her, feeling less insecure.

“No problem. I’ve always got your back” Y/N grinned, as she reached out to pat his leg.

She meant it in a friendly gesture but she found her hand lingering on his thigh longer than it needed, causing Xavier to turn to her with a questioning look.

“Look out!” Brooke suddenly shouted from the back, as Xavier looked back to the road.

Y/N gasped as they lurched forward, her head almost hitting the dashboard. She slowly sat back up, her eyes widening when she saw the body of a man lying a few metres down the road.

“Oh my God...” Y/N trailed off, as everyone jumped out of the back on the van.

“Hey, are you okay?” Xavier inquired, but Y/N’s attention was solely on the injured man outside the van.

“Y/N! Are you okay?” Xavier insisted, reaching out to touch her face lightly and turn her to face him.

“Yeah...yeah. Are you?” Y/N stuttered, as Xavier nodded.

In the next second, she was rushing out of the van towards the group that had crowded the man, who looked to be in his mid-twenties.

“Stop! What are you doing?” Y/N yelled, when she saw Ray was about to lift the man’s head up.

“I...I was just going to check his airway...” Ray mumbled, sounding unsure of himself.

“He’s clearly breathing, idiot! Are you trying to break his neck?” Y/N scolded, as Ray took his hands away from the man’s head.

All of a sudden the man’s eyes shot open, as he looked around with a terrified expression.

“What’s your name?” Brooke queried.

“I can’t remember” He replied, letting out a shout of pain as he seemed to wake up fully.

“Hey, no, no. Don’t move” Y/N insisted, as she and Chet held him down.

“Look...look at his cuts. The dried blood. He didn’t just get those injuries...he’s been out a long time” Xavier suggested, ushering to his bloody hands.

“It doesn’t matter. We’re in the middle of nowhere. We can’t just leave him!” Brooke exclaimed.

“He’s going to die if we don’t do something, X” Y/N told him, as Xavier sighed.

“We’ll take him back to the camp with us then, but let’s get our stories straight. We didn’t hit him!” Xavier announced, as Y/N glared at him.

“None of that is going to matter if we don’t get him help soon. We need something like a stretcher to move him” Y/N informed them.

“Oh! I have a surfboard in the van” Chet exclaimed, as everyone turned to give him a confused look.

“Why did you bring...nevermind, that’ll work. Go get it” Y/N told him, as Chet hopped up to his feet.

“How’re you so good at this?” Brooke inquired, as Y/N went to check the man’s pulse rate.

“Y/N’s off to college in the fall...leaving all her friends behind” Montana shrugged.

“That’s not going to happen” Y/N scoffed, as she noticed Xavier had turned away from her.

“You guys don’t really think that do you?” Y/N frowned, but no one would meet her eyes.

The drive to the camp was almost unbearably awkward, as Y/N chose to stay in the back with the hurt man, while Chet took her place in the front seat. She couldn’t believe she had been so dumb as to realise that her friends might have been hurt by her leaving for college. Could that be why Xavier had been avoiding her? She was brought out of her thoughts as the Nurse at Camp Redwood, Rita, started to check out the man’s injuries. Y/N frowned when she saw the nurse had set up an IV drip, but seemed to have trouble with putting a cannula in his hand.

“You alright? You look like your about to throw up” Y/N pointed out, seeing Rita’s hands begin to shake.

“I’d be doing better without an audience” Rita retorted.

“Okay, shutting up” Y/N said, holding her hands up in mock defence.

“Come on. I can show you all a tour of the camp” The Camp leader, Margaret suggested, ushering them away.

Y/N started to follow the group, turning around in the doorway and frowning when she saw Rita was having to look away as she tried to once again put the cannula in.

“C’mon” Xavier insisted, placing his arm around her shoulder and dragging her along.

He kept his arm around her as they walked towards the kitchens, as she couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her face.

“This is Chef Bertie, a Camp Redwood veteran” Margaret announced, ushering over to a large, middle aged woman with a cigarette in her mouth.

“Dibs” Xavier leant down to whisper in her ear.

“You wouldn’t know what to do with it if you got it, handsome” Bertie teased, as Y/N’s mouth dropped open, in amusement.

Y/N started to giggle when she saw Xavier’s incredulous expression, as he dropped his arm from her shoulder with a huff.

“Put those scrawny arms to work and help a lady fill her pantry” Bertie ordered, as she handed a shocked Xavier a crate.

“I seriously love you” Y/N exclaimed, as everyone began to laugh.

“Your not the first to say so, sweetie” Bertie grinned.

While the others continued on with the tour, Y/N offered to stay behind with Bertie, thinking the sweaty chef seemed much more fun than their stuck up leader.

“So you worked here when Margaret was a counsellor?” Y/N questioned, as she began stacking the crates up in the kitchen.

“Yes, ma’am. I’ve got many good memories of this place. The minute I heard Margaret was reopening the place I was the first to volunteer” Bertie explained.

“Why’d it close in the first place?” Y/N inquired.

“One bad Apple ruined it for everyone” Bertie shrugged, as Y/N opened her mouth to question the comment.

“So, how long have you and the smart mouth been together?” Bertie asked, lightning up her cigarette.

“Me and Xavier? Ha. No, you’ve got that wrong” Y/N mumbled, as she started emptying the first crate.

“Oh lord, your not one of those pining teenagers are you?” Bertie suggested.

“I pine quietly, don’t worry” Y/N joked, a sad tone to her voice.

“So he’s single then? Maybe I’ll have to bring my old moves out” Bertie grinned.

“Give it your best shot, Chef. I reckon you’ve got more chance than me” Y/N giggled.

“More chance of what?” A familiar voice made Y/N jump, as she turned around.

“Uh...” Y/N trailed off, as she saw it was Xavier and looked to Bertie with pleading eyes.

Thank God he didn’t come by a few seconds earlier, Y/N thought to herself.

“More chance of getting laid” Bertie winked at the blond, as Xavier raised an eyebrow.

“You could definitely get laid, Y/N. Just not with Chet...or Ray...” Xavier shrugged.

“Fine, maybe I’ll have to drive down the road and see if the creepy gas attendant wants a quickie” Y/N rolled her eyes, as she walked past him.

“Ha. Right. Your joking, aren’t you? Y/N?” Xavier exclaimed, rushing after her.

“Kids” Chef Bertie shook her head.

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

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[shesclearlya3]

The Last Time.

pairing: Xavier Plympton x Reader

word count: 2,231 

warnings: sad as shit, references to smut, murder, slightly au.

Ask: You and your boyfriend Xavier go to warn Chef Bertie about what is going on at Camp Redwood. When things take a nasty turn, one of you has to do the unthinkable. Thank you so much to @faith-alons26, I hope I delivered!

You had made a huge mistake.

Your boyfriend, Xavier, held your hand tightly as you and your friends tried to decipher what the hell was going on.

This was supposed to be a fun-filled summer, counseling kids, and making memories. It was rough living in Los Angeles. Things never stopped, everything was continually bustling, and you were excited to get away for a while. Especially with the love of your life beside you. Now you were running from not one, but TWO potential murderers running around camp.

That morning, you were woken up when a firm, muscular arm wound around your waist. You nuzzled the warm pillow beneath you, feeling tiny hairs tickle your neck as Xavier tried to nudge you awake.

“Xavier, stooooooop,” you whined, clasping a hand down on his larger one. You heard a raspy chuckle from behind before your fingers intertwined with his.

“y/n, stooooooop,” he mocked you, before he lazily rolled over you, his head resting on your breasts. You hugged him tightly, already in the process of falling back asleep. The alarm clock said 8, you had a little time before you had to get moving.

“y/n,” he mumbled.

“Xavier,” you answered.

“A quickie before we hit the road?” he whispered.

“Xavierrrr,” you laughed, while somehow simultaneously groaning. You heard him giggle, his nose pressed in the little space between your breasts. “I’m so tired, let me sleep in,”

You felt his firm hands touch your hips, pressing his thumbs into your skin. Xavier was nestled so comfortably between your legs, that his body heat enveloped you in such warmth that you started to wonder if it wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

“Come on, baby,” he sighed. “This might be our last time for a while, we don’t want to corrupt the children, ya know?” He pouted. Xavier pressed kisses along your chest, licking a flat stripe over any freckle he came across. “Babe.”

“Hmm?” Your eyes were still shut. A part of you didn’t mean to fuck with him, but you were so relaxed.

“Please?” He begged, finally causing you to open your eyes. His pale blue ones sparkled at you as he wiggled an eyebrow, his chin pressed to your boob. Xavier placed a hand over your panty line, dipping in a finger to his knuckle.

You adjusted your body, laughing lightly when you felt your back crack. Xavier gasped quietly at the sound, “I felt that babe,” you brought your legs to wrap around his waist, bringing your hands up to scratch his scalp.

“Show me what you got, Plympton,” you teased him. His eyes had shut at your ministrations, then popping open at the sound of your voice. His blue eyes were alight with mischief.

“You got it, babe,” he said before your lips clashed together.

As you followed Xavier to the kitchen to warn Bertie, you wished you were still there with him. Your heart was beating so loud in your chest that it hurt your eyes. You were terrified.

“Xavier, wait!” You hissed quietly, tugging on his hand. He stopped, fear evident on his face as he observed you.

“What’s wrong? Did you see something?” He asked, looking around you with wide eyes. It was dark, the only light coming from the lone flashlight he held in his hand.

“No, but I’m scared, I don’t think we should!”

“We have to save Bertie, y/n!” He whispered. “We can’t leave her, she deserves to know what is going on,” he explained.

“I know, I’m not saying she doesn’t, but- I have a bad feeling, Xav,” you replied. Xavier looked down at you, and you could see how truly scared he was. It broke your heart to see him this way.

You both knew it was too dangerous just standing around, so once again, you took his hand, giving him a look. Xavier leaned down, kissing you with such intensity that you were swept off your feet.

“Whatever happens, y/n, just know I love you so fucking much. You were the best thing to ever happen to me, okay?” Xavier whispered.

“Please don’t talk like that,” you gently scolded, feeling tears well up in your eyes. “Xavier?”

“It needed to be said, y/n,” he took a deep breath, before tugging on your hand. The two of you took off to the dining hall, knowing it was your best shot.

When you arrived, however, it was completely empty.

Xavier looked devastated at this, but you kissed his hand. “Maybe she already knows and is just hiding?” You suggested. A small part of you didn’t believe that, but Xavier was suffering enough as it was.

“I hope you’re right.” He said. Xavier released your hand, the two of you calling for her in hushed whispers. You looked in one of the supply closets, while Xavier shone the flashlight under all the tables.

Your heart nearly stopped when you heard the sound of jingling keys just outside. Your body froze, your head whipping around to see Xavier still giving you the same, doe-eyed stare. Your fight or flight response kicked in, and you shoved yourself in the closet while Xavier dove under the table. The flashlight clicked off, leaving the two of you in partial darkness.

You clasped a hand over your mouth as the door swung open, hitting the wall violently. You choked on a scream, the door cracked open just enough to see Xavier. He was curled into himself, looking where Mr. Jingles stood. It was hard to keep quiet.

Mr. Jingles was tall and menacing. He observed the room quietly before the sound of his clunky boots filled the quiet space. He wandered off towards the kitchen first, temporarily giving you a minute to think of what to do.

You knew he would find you, as the sound of cabinets opening and shutting ricocheted off the walls. Fresh tears fell down your face as you noticed Xavier looking in your direction. You could take your chance and make a run for it, you would rather die trying than sit around like ducks.

The biggest regret you had right now was not being right next to him. You both had a better chance of surviving if you were together. A sob escaped your throat before you could stop it. You dug your nails into your cheek when it grew silent, but then Mr. Jingles kept looking for something. Or someone.

You creaked the door open just a little more, seeing that Xavier had slowly made his way closer to you. He was at the edge of the table, slowly bringing a hand to his lips. You were so terrified that you couldn’t make a sound if you wanted.

Then your worst nightmare came true.

The flashlight Xavier had left knocked over, the cap breaking off and causing the batteries to slide around. Xavier looked back, just as the sound of something slamming shut startled the both of you.

“Y/N, LEAVE!” Xavier screamed at you. You threw open the door the rest of the way, just as Mr. Jingles bounded towards Xavier, swinging the large knife in his hand.

Xavier managed to push a table at Mr.Jingles, causing him to grunt and kneel over. But as quick as it happened, he managed to grab Xavier by his jacket, preparing to stab.

Time seemed to move in slow motion for you. You didn’t bother to think, not a trace of common sense in your brain. Your family and friends would say you were stupid, but you didn’t care. Your first instinct was to save Xavier, even if you died doing it.

You flung yourself at the two men, roughly pushing Xavier out of his grip. He yelled in surprised as he rolled over the table, hitting the floor with a grunt. You realized that it wasn’t the most ideal if he got knocked out, neither would be getting out alive.

Mr.Jingles glared down at you, a large hand coming to your neck. You gasped for air as he lifted you up like you weighed nothing. His eyes shone absolute darkness you had never seen before. You hoped it would be quick, and Xavier would get the hell out of there.

You felt the pain before you realized what was happening. You felt the knife in your stomach before it moved up an inch. Mr. Jingles choking you made it impossible to scream, and that’s when he dropped you like a sack of potatoes.

Xavier suddenly appeared behind Jingles, hitting him with a metal chair. You watched through your tears as he hit the floor. He was such a giant that you were sure it wouldn’t bother him.

Xavier was in shock, as he dropped the chair that was now sprinkled with blood. He stepped over Mr. Jingles, kneeling beside you with tears in his eyes. They slipped down his cheeks uncontrollably.

“y-y/n,” he trembled, “Why would you do that?” He asked. You found it was becoming harder to breathe with each passing minute.

“Because I love you, Xav,” you choked up. He brushed your hair out of your face, before glancing behind him.

“We need to get you out of here,” he began, feeling around your body in an attempt to lift you up. His hands were covered in your blood, the smell assaulting your nose.

“No, no, you need to get out of here,” you cried, pushing his hands from you. “I can’t b-b-breathe. I’m going to die before help comes,”

“Don’t say that!” Xavier snapped, his resolve cracking. You couldn’t be taken back by his shout; he was watching you die. “Goddamn it, y/n, it should have been me!”

“WELL IT’S NOT!” you yelled in pain before you vomited up some blood. The metallic taste made you gag as it dripped onto your shirt. “You need to g-get the fuck out of here, Xavier. I need you to do that for me, okay?” You begged.

Xavier let out a sob, his hands now completely soaked in your blood. He knew you were right. The wound was deep, you were gasping for air, and now…

“I’ve always loved you,” you whispered to him. Your eyes were now struggling to stay shut, your words became slurred. “I’ll love you forever, Xavier Plympton,”

Xavier shook his head, “No, no, you can’t leave me! y/n!” He gently shook you. Your eyes opened before trailing over to the knife that was knocked from your attacker’s hands.

Xavier slowly followed your eyes, before his eyebrows furrowed. “y/n?…”

You mustered your strength, reaching and grabbing it with shaky hands. You stared at your blood coating the blade, thinking of all the times you’ve looked at a knife. You never thought your time would come to an end because of one.

“Please…” you whispered.

Xavier shook his head, a blubbering mess as he half-heartedly took the knife from you. “N-no,”

“Xavier,” you whimpered.

“I won’t do it, y/n!” He growled at you. “I refuse,” he croaked.

“I don’t want to suffer-,”

“If you make me do this-” he interjected, “I’m going to suffer,” he cupped your cheek, his eyes staring into yours. “J-Just let me be here, I won’t let go, y/n,”

“You need to leave before he wakes up! If you don’t do it, I’ll do it myself,” you assured him.

Maybe it was wrong for you to ask this of him. You didn’t want to hurt him. Yet, you knew Xavier witnessing this would be the worst night of his life. The ending of your pain would help get him out of here. Alive.

Xavier gently pressed the blade of the knife over your heart. You both stared at each other, unable to make each other out due to the tears.

“I’ll see you on the other side,” you coughed, more blood seeping out of your mouth.

“I’ll wait for you, y/n, I’ll wait a fucking lifetime if that means we’ll be together again,” he sobbed.

The last of your strength was used to pull him to you, pressing a weak kiss to his lips. Your tears and blood mixed together, and as he pulled away, the reality that this was the end hit you like a wave.

Xavier took a deep breath before putting all his weight on the knife, sending it through your chest.

You screamed in agony, the sound of his own cries creating the most haunting sound. Your lungs gave out next before you collapsed to the floor. Whatever light that was left in your eyes was now gone.

Xavier quickly removed the knife, before cradling your deceased body in his arms. He sobbed heavily into your hair, calling your name as if could bring you back.

The sound of running footsteps startled him. Brooke and Ray stood in the door, their mouths hanging open. Brooke pressed her hands to her mouth, crying at the sight of you.

Xavier pressed a final kiss to your forehead. He gently placed you on the floor before he took the knife, looking at Mr. Jingles as he began to stir.

“Let’s fuck this place up,” he called to Ray and Brooke as they still watched in shock.

Mr. Jingles slowly stood up, unable to keep proper footing. He stared down at you before his eyes landed on Xavier. He was breathing heavily, blood slowly leaking from his eyes.

“You just cooked up your worst nightmare, bitch.”

no-taglist because it ruined me and i won’t intentionally ruin someone else lmao

[vasilibox720]

Music tag game

I was tagged by @reviewing-rebecca like 3 weeks ago, but better late than never :P

Rules: put your whole song library on shuffle and write down the first 10 songs in your list then tag 10 others

Angel on Fire - Halsey, hopeless fountain kingdom (Deluxe), 2017

Whatcha Say - Jason Derulo, Jason Derulo, 2010

I Hate Everything About You - Three Days Grace, Three Days Grace, 2003

St. Elmo’s Fire (Man in Motion) - John Parr, St. Elmo’s Fire, 1985

Don’t Forget to Remember Me - Carrie Underwood, Some Hearts, 2005

For the First Time - The Script, Science & Faith, 2010

It’s Goin’ Down - The X-Ecutioners ft. Mike Shinoda & Mr. Hahn, Built from Scratch, 2002

Giant - Calvin Harris and Rag’n’Bone Man, single, 2019

The Climb - Miley Cyrus, Hannah Montana: The Movie, 2009

I’m Not Alone (2019 Edit) - Calvin Harris, I’m Not Alone, 2019

I’m tagging @tallulalusa @katekarnage7 @glitterhazardhugs @lostitalianxkp @loveinthekeyofx @bertie-renard @impracticalchickensuit @copper-marigolds @thalassakimou @antoniaeleni 

[jeremystrele]

A Magical Alistair Knox-Designed Rental In Eltham!

A Magical Alistair Knox-Designed Rental In Eltham!

Homes

by Lucy Feagins, Editor

Photo – Caitlin Mills for The Design Files. Styling – Annie Portelli

Artwork by Thierry Porter. Pop and Scott Dreamer Couch. Rollin’ Stone Coffee Table by Odditi (formerly Lobo Workshop). Armchair sourced by Curated Spaces. Hay Matin Lamp from Open Room. Photo – Caitlin Mills for The Design Files. Styling – Annie Portelli

Lucienne and Sebastian Van Sebille! Artwork by Thierry Porter. Pop and Scott Rocky Record Sideboard and linen lamp prototype. The Armadillo rug was a gift for Lucienne’s 30th from special friends. Sebastian’s record player and amp bought from a garage sale when he was 17! Woven Sculpture by Lucy Nelson via Tjanpi Desert Weavers. Photo – Caitlin Mills for The Design Files. Styling – Annie Portelli

‘Our living space where we spend a lot of our time in front of the fire or with doors wide open on warm days. It’s a hard space to capture as it is so vast, but being surrounded by windows makes the space feel so light and open,’ says Lucienne. Photo – Caitlin Mills for The Design Files. Styling – Annie Portelli

Artwork on shelf: ‘Bombing of Darwin’ by Pauletta Kerinaiua. Items on shelf: Footed Bowl by Asobimasu Clay. Black Wide Sentinel Vase by Ella Bendrups. Shell collected on the beach in Marion Bay, Tasmania. Photo – Caitlin Mills for The Design Files. Styling – Annie Portelli

Artwork ‘Bombing of Darwin’ by Pauletta Kerinaiua. Painted paper mache bowl made by a friend. Nicolette Johnson blue vase (sadly damaged in transit, but still so beautiful). White chalk vase with handles by Katarina Wells.Photo – Caitlin Mills for The Design Files. Styling – Annie Portelli

‘We love all the built-in shelving in this house and have no problem whatsoever filling them with our bits and bobs,’ says Lucienne. Photo – Caitlin Mills for The Design Files. Styling – Annie Portelli

Drum stools by Pop and Scott. Brass clock from Country Road. Photo – Caitlin Mills for The Design Files. Styling – Annie Portelli

Artwork by Sebastian’s father Casey Van Sebille. Amber Jug and glassware by Maison Balzac. Ceramics by Amy Leeworthy with nasturtium from the veggie garden. Ferm Living Brass Pond Triverts. Blue Glass Decanter from Made in Japan. The frog candle stick holders are much loved engagement gift that receive a lot of comments at dinner parties! Photo – Caitlin Mills for The Design Files. Styling – Annie Portelli

The house’s incredible stained glass window! Snoopy Lamp by Achille & Pier Giacomo Castiglioni for FLOS from Euroluce. Life Interiors shelving housing Sebastian’s ever-increasing cookbook collection and Lucienne’s penchant for timber bowls. Candle stick from a local Eltham maker. Photo – Caitlin Mills for The Design Files. Styling – Annie Portelli

Paper lantern by Pop and Scott. Vase by a ceramist at Montsalvat. Flowers from the local green grocer. Photo – Caitlin Mills for The Design Files. Styling – Annie Portelli

Vintage dining table sourced by Curated Spaces. LaClasica Chairs by Spanish brand Stua from Stylecraft (these were ex sample chairs that are still in great condition that Lucienne picked up while at her previous role). Photo – Caitlin Mills for The Design Files. Styling – Annie Portelli

Artworks up the stairs by Sebastian’s sister Mo, who gave the couple a piece for their 30th birthdays. Artwork on brick by Bobby Clark. Photo – Caitlin Mills for The Design Files. Styling – Annie Portelli

Noren door curtain from Pop and Scott. Photo – Caitlin Mills for The Design Files. Styling – Annie Portelli

Handpainted suns by Thea Skelsey. Japanese Noren by Pop and Scott. Curio Blanket in Wheatgrass. Photo – Caitlin Mills for The Design Files. Styling – Annie Portelli

Vintage tiered travertine side tables used as bedsides. Night Owl Lamp by Fritz Hansen from Cult. I Love Linen bedding. Curio Blanket in Wheatgrass. Pop and Scott pot. Photo – Caitlin Mills for The Design Files. Styling – Annie Portelli

Vintage chair. In Bed x We are Tribe tobacco bedding with In Bed biscuit pillowcases. Photo – Caitlin Mills for The Design Files. Styling – Annie Portelli

Drawers bought off Gumtree. Pop and Scott brass mirror. Vase by Lotte Schwerdtfeger.Photo – Caitlin Mills for The Design Files. Styling – Annie Portelli

Lucienne’s mother’s childhood folk harp. Poppy photograph by Kristoffer Paulsen. Photo – Caitlin Mills for The Design Files. Styling – Annie Portelli

Book shelf from Ikea. Big Stripe floor cushions from Good Space. Couch from Lounge Lovers. Velvet lumbar and throw cushions from Pop and Scott. Dizzie side table by Arper from Stylecraft – another ex sample from Lucienne’s previous job.Photo – Caitlin Mills for The Design Files. Styling – Annie Portelli

Sunday Supply Co umbrella. Palissade table and benches by Hay from Open Room. Photo – Caitlin Mills for The Design Files. Styling – Annie Portelli

Artwork by Bobby Clark. Dreamer Couch by Pop and Scott. On shelves: Alvar Aalto Iittala vase. Items on shelf: Footed Bowl by Asobimasu Clay. Black Wide Sentinel Vase by Ella Bendrups. Shell found on the beach in Marion Bay, Tasmania. Photo – Caitlin Mills for The Design Files. Styling – Annie Portelli

Seasoned renters Lucienne Van Sebille, trade manager at Pop and Scott and stylist, and Sebastian Van Sebille, chef at True North, lived in Melbourne’s inner-north for a decade before making the move to further out to Eltham.

The couple had heard rave reviews about the suburb for years, but thought things surely couldn’t be as amazing as they seem. Turns out, they are!

Even though a potential move out of the city had long been discussed by the pair, it wouldn’t have happened in 2020 if not for the pandemic. Lucienne explains, ‘The owners of our last home sadly had to move back from overseas due to COVID, so it was very tricky for them and us.’ 

Finding a new rental property mid pandemic was hardly ideal, but everything fell into place after Lucienne spotted this Alistair Knox-designed home up for lease. ‘After constant refreshes on my real estate search page, I literally jumped on the spot in excitement when I first saw this listing! ’ she says. ‘I’m so thankful all things fell into place and we landed here.’ 

Melbourne entered its second major lockdown (lasting 16 weeks) just days after Lucienne and Sebastian moved into the home, affording the couple and their English cocker spaniel Bertie plenty of time to get to know their new neighbourhood!

‘We are lucky to have really lovely neighbours who have lived here for over 40 years, and can tell us some of the history of the house and all the people who have lived here,’ Lucienne says. ‘Our house was the first to be built on the street and our neighbours, along with the original owners who built here, brought in electricity to the vacant land together. I love that so much!’

While their previous rental properties have required some personalisation to feel like home, the incredible bones of this place speak for themselves.

‘I’ve always put so much of myself into our rental homes over the years – painting walls, replacing light fittings, scraping glow-in-the-dark stars from the ceiling, planting, and painting again!’ Lucienne says. ‘The space lends itself to our furniture, art and other pieces really well, and I feel like everything found its right spot in the house very naturally.’ 

Some standout furniture items include prototypes and seconds made by Lucienne’s workmates at Pop and Scott, and art by Sebastian’s dad and other loved ones. 

The previous residents of this Knox home lived here for 28 years, and together with the owners, they have ensured it’s been beautifully maintained, and repaired with materials faithful to the original design. 

‘I mean, Knox knew what he was doing! We’re lucky that our landlords really care for the property… we often jokingly say “you’ve done it again Alistair” when something functions perfectly, like all the external glass doors folding neatly out on themselves,’ says Lucienne. ‘We’re lucky it’s now the home of our family, and hope to live plenty of life here too.’

[freezer-bird]

Lukes super long 1.5k recommendations no one asked for

These were bulleted but tumblr is a bitch

Bold is my absolute favourites

Music (Recommending artist)- Muse Panic! At The Disco Regina Spektor Faith Marie Twenty One Pilots The 1975 Ariana Grande Bry Britney Spears Chance The Rapper cupcakKe Daya Dodie Dua Lipa Ed Sheeran Troye Sivan Fall Out Boy Hayley Kiyoko Green Day Laila Mariana And The Diamonds Melanie Martinez The Neighbourhood Young The Giant You Me At Six That Poppy

Soundtracks (Includes movies +mucials)- Dear Evan Hansen Hamilton Wicked Secret Garden Mulan Moana The Little Mermaid Beauty And The Beast (Original, not the new BS) Hercules Pocahontas

Books- Miss Peregrine's Home For Peculiar Children trilogy The Hobbit Hitchhikers Guide To The Galaxy Modern Romance Jump The Cracks Mary Downing Hahn (She’s for a younger audience but I loved her a lot up until around seventh grade) Katie Alender (Same as the last one) The Absolutely True Diary Of A Part Time Indian The Chronicles Of Narnia

Movies- Howl's Moving Castle Kiki's Delivery Service Castle In The Sky The Imitation Game Mulan Pride Boys Star Wars (All of them, watch them rn) X-Men Spirited Away My Neighbour Totoro Devil Free Fall Doctor Strange Captain America: Civil War Miss Peregrine's Home For Peculiar Children (Not as good as the books) Moana The Way He Looks Finding Nemo/Dory Coraline John Mulaney’s Netflix Specials (I don't have a better place to put this but EVERYONE SHOULD WATCH THIS RIGHT NOW) House Of Wax Lilo and Stitch

Shows (Includes Anime and Cartoons)- The OA Erased Bob's Burgers Bill Nye Saves The World Sense8 Bojack Horseman Shameless A Series Of Unfortunate Events Gravity Falls Futurama The Amazing World Of Gumball Chewing Gum Parks And Recreation Food Wars Criminal Minds Master Of None (and Aziz Ansari's specials btw) Stranger Things Steven Universe We Bear Bears Attack On Titan

Games- Undertale Uncharted games Corpse Party (And Book Of Shadows but the first ones the best) Life Is Strange Fahrenheit Stray Cat Crossing

Youtubers- Dan and Phil (All channels) PewDiePie Philip Defranco Bill Wurtz Lisbug Draw With Jazza Jacksfilms Jacksepticeye Super Carlin Brothers Elijah And Christine Cayleigh Elise TheOdd1sOut Echo Gillette PhantomStrider KickThePJ Bertie Gilbert Garrett Watts Dodie Crabstickz Renee Is Creative Mytoecold Jack Edwards Alex Bertie Lukeisnotsexy Ben J Pierce Skellydun

I was going to do blog recs but then decided against it

[freyafrida]

YESSS JEM/MARY FIC AND IT ONLY TOOK 103 YEARS i guess technically 15 years, since we found out they kissed in TBAQ. i left a comment on AO3, but reposting the main gist of it here for the tumblr crowd:

i love so much about this fic -- it really hits on everything i find most fascinating about jem/mary: the tension of their class difference, the suggestion that the blythes are not as accepting as the narration portrays them, the suggestion that the blythe kids are a bit sheltered and naive pre-rilla. i'm really fascinated by the blythes being friends with kids who experience grief and trauma at a far earlier age than they do (both the merediths and mary) and i'm always here for stuff that explores that.

also this writing is so beautiful, very melancholy and raw ❤️ ty @jomiddlemarch for writing this!!

and is there honey still 

Kissing Mary Vance was nothing like kissing Faith.

This realization, occurring a moment after the kiss ended, Jem’s hand still at Mary’s slender waist, her normally pale cheeks as pink as a rare mayflower, was followed immediately by the understanding that he’d never be able to tell anyone. There was no confidant he could trust with such a secret, even if he could bring himself to so violate the rules of gentlemanly behavior. It just wasn’t done and that was before he considered speaking of kissing Mary Vance, who was accepted as Miss Cornelia’s adopted daughter, but whose personal history was never quite forgotten.

Susan, should she ever hear of it, would be scandalized beyond comprehension. 

Jem would never eat another slice of her strawberry pie.

His friends and siblings would be confused, Faith put out, her pique covering any feelings of betrayal, for all that there was nothing binding between them.

Mother would be disappointed and Dad would shake his head.

The expression in Mary’s eyes, those queer eyes he now saw were the color of moonstones, told him she understood it all. 

“It’s nothing to make a fuss about,” she said. Faith would have tossed her head making such a remark, her golden-brown curls shown to advantage, but Mary only looked at him steadily and let the hand that had been on his shoulder drop to her lap.

“You hold yourself too cheap, Mary,” Jem said. 

“That ain’t—that isn’t possible,” she replied. “Anyway, what’s a kiss amount to?”

It was a good question, one Jem had thought he’d known the answer to, just as he thought he’d known the answer to the question she was laboring over at her desk in the empty classroom, a piece of paper scribbled over and crossed-out, grey smudges on the foolscap, on Mary’s white cuffs. She would’ve laundered them herself, being Miss Cornelia’s daughter not relieving her of her housekeeping duties, chores she’d call them though Jem knew none of his sisters had ever helped even pinning clean clothes to the line.

He supposed a kiss could be an ordinary thing, a peck on the cheek or the lips, a greeting, friendly and inconsequential as a wave, a forgettable gesture of a mild affection.

Kissing Mary Vance was nothing like that.

He could say, in all honesty, that he hadn’t planned it. He’d been pointing out something in her writing, a tricky bit she’d gotten tangled up in, and she’d been peering down at the page, trying to make it out. When she’d perceived her mistake, she’d looked up at him, her expression one he’d never seen before, victory and pride and delight all swirled together, altering her face from one he’d recognized without being aware of it into one he’d been startled to discover. Without a word, without a thought, he’d leaned in and kissed her parted lips before she crowed over her achievement or thanked him, the caress impetuous, a whim, irresistible.

She was irresistible. He’d grazed her lips with his own and in the space before the next heartbeat, he’d cupped her jaw with one hand and let the other drop to her waist to draw her close. He felt the most tremendous desire for her possess him, everything else dropped away. She tasted, quite impossibly, of honey, though that was perhaps because he had always liked honey best, and she was warm in his embrace, coming closer when his hand at her waist reached around her back, sighing a little when he stroked her cheek and angled her head to be able to kiss her more deeply. Every second, his desire for her ratcheted sharply upwards and she met him, her hand clutching his shoulder, her sharp tongue sweet in his mouth. She kissed the way a fast girl kissed but there was a terrible innocence to her response that made him know she’d never kissed anyone else, whatever she might have intimated to his sisters and her friends.

He couldn’t say why he’d broken away. 

A sound in the hallway or her sudden stillness when his hand grazed her breast, the need to breathe, the pounding of his heart felt throughout his whole body. 

“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” Mary went on when he was stayed silent.

“Are you sorry?” he blurted out, and hearing the words he became suddenly terrified that he’d transgressed, become that monster Reverend Meredith always warned of in his gentle way, a man consumed by his appetites, greed and lust. “Oh, God, Mary, have I made you do something you didn’t want—”

“As if you could!” she said, wry again, Mary Vance again as he’d ever known her. If she’d wanted to, she would have slapped him, he was sure of that. “There’s no person living who could make me do what I didn’t want and certainly not you, Jem Blythe.”

“That’s good, I suppose,” he said, chastened, still too close to her. Still tasting the honey-sweetness of her lips, feeling the sound of the quiet moan of hers he’d swallowed in his throat.

“We don’t have to talk about it anymore,” she offered. “Or ever again. It could be just something that happened once, like as if you’d knocked over my inkwell, and we can forget about it. If that’s what you’d like. To be easy about it.”

“We don’t have to talk about it anymore,” he repeated, agreeing. An inkwell knocked over would leave a stain, one endless scrubbing would never entirely remove. “But I won’t forget. I shan’t.”

“That’s good, I suppose,” she said, her old tone mixed in with a new softness. He’d mussed her hair and some of the loose strands caught the light, a far cry from the usual trig appearance Miss Cornelia insisted upon. He wasn’t sure he’d ever see this Mary again, but it might be enough, to have seen it this one time. It was more Walter’s way to say he’d carry it as a talisman, but Jem felt it without saying it, that to have this moment might serve him well in the future.

“Mind you turn that paper in,” he said. 

“Mind yourself, then,” she said and turned away.

He wouldn’t see Mary alone for another ten years. 

“Thought I’d find you here,” Mary said, sitting down beside him, facing the water. She tucked her skirt around her and made no effort to conceal her sturdy, scuffed boots. It was a cool evening, cooler by the shore, but she didn’t have a coat or even the old wool shawl she’d refused to give up before he’d left for France. He shrugged off his own coat and offered it to her. He’d be warm enough in his heavy jersey, one the fisherman down at the harbor wore when the wind picked up.

“Not Rainbow Valley?” he said.

“Why would you go there? You’re not a child anymore. Haven’t been for a long time, unless I miss my mark,” she said. 

“No, you’re right,” he said. “Not for a long time.”

“You don’t have to talk to me about anything. Not about the War or Walter or being a prisoner,” she said. She said it without any particular tenderness, which was the most consoling part. He recalled, very dimly, that before she had come to Miss Cornelia, she’d lived through her own horrors, yet spoke of them rarely if at all.

“Don’t have to tell me about any French girls either,” she added and he laughed. 

It was the first time he’d laughed since he came home. Since he came back to the Glen, anyway, and called it home without being able to fully mean it.

“Not much to tell there. I mostly saw nuns and the Red Cross nurses are awfully brisk, whatever their nationality,” he said.

“I’ve always thought Cornelia would make a good nun, for all that she’s married,” Mary said.

“Perhaps,” Jem replied. The waves kept breaking on the sand and it was dusk, romantic if you wanted it to be. Mary had his coat wrapped around her shoulders. Jem felt scoured, raw and empty.

“Why’d you come, if you don’t expect me to talk?” he asked after several minutes of silence.

“I guess because you need someone who doesn’t expect you to talk but who’s willing to sit nearby, without fussing over anything,” she said. “I’ve plenty of handwork and housework to deal with at home. I’m perfectly content to sit and be idle and there’s nothing you can say or not say that can hurt me. I’m not hurt the way you are, I can bear whatever you need—”

“They can’t at home,” he said. Mother, with grief in her grey eyes and grey in her auburn hair, and Rilla, grown into a mother before she was a wife, Dad with something more broken inside him than any of the rest. Susan and Dog Monday and the letters from Di and Nan, blotted and halting. Una, who might as well be one of the French nuns who tended him, all of them mourning Walter and trying to rejoice at his return. Jem, trying to keep them from hearing any of his nightmares, biting his tongue when they spoke at a meal of the future or the past.

“I know,” she said. “Faith Meredith’s married a Brit. Officer, Lord Something Hoity-Toity of Fancy Abbey-on-High.”

“I’m happy for her,” Jem said tiredly. “We were childhood sweethearts, that’s all.”

“I know. Just wanted it said so you’d know I know,” Mary replied.

“If she’d waited, I wouldn’t have wanted her. I wouldn’t want her to have me now, as I am,” he said. “Befouled, diminished—”

“Walter’s dead, Jem. You don’t have to speak in his voice,” Mary said. 

“I wasn’t—”

“Yes, you were. If you don’t think I’d remember, after all those afternoons, those walks and rambles, listening to him, well then. You’d be wrong. I remember,” she said.

“I want Faith to stay as she is. Beautiful, golden, untouched, a lovely memory from my splendid childhood,” Jem said.

“Good Lord, she’d far better off than I thought, even without taking a castle into account,” Mary exclaimed. “Maybe her Lord Gawain-Excalibur-Avalon actually treats her like a women. A person.”

“I didn’t know you liked the Arthurian legends,” Jem replied, taken aback by Mary’s remark, choosing to deflect.

“I liked the sword. And the Lady of the Lake with her own place,” Mary said.

“I thought it would be like that, the War, knights going out,” he said. “I knew there’d be wounds and death, but I thought there’d be honor—"

“You always were a bit of a fool,” Mary said. “Stands to reason though, the way you were raised.”

“We had a—you’re right,” he said, realizing he did not have to defend his parents or Ingleside. “Mother was so careful for us to be well-loved. To live in a world where we might imagine ourselves heroes or able to speak with the fairies—you would have done better than I at the Front, Mary.”

“No one would do better,” she said. He braced himself for her to talk about his medals, his valiant efforts in the prison camp, how he tended those around him with what little he had. How many men had died in his hands, their blood the scent in his nose as terrifying as gas. “You lived.”

“It doesn’t seem like enough.”

“Come here, then,” she said, shifting to kneel facing him. The moon had risen and it suited her, her eyes gleaming like opals, her hair silver, the shadow soft around her bare throat. She reached a hand to touch his cheek, rough with the whiskers he hadn’t shaved for the past few days. “Come here, James,” she said and the sound of his name startled him enough to move closer. To let her draw his face to hers for a kiss.

For a moment, he was seventeen again and Walter was alive, the fields of France green, the chestnut trees in leaf. Then he heard a wave break and felt Mary’s hand move to the nape of his neck, her fingers callused, and he tasted salt mixed with honey. She beckoned him and he put his arms around her, holding her tightly, trying to lose himself in her embrace. Letting her find him.

They were alone with the moon and the sea. There was no hallway and Mary kissed him well enough there were no memories, not of France or Germany or Holland, not of the ship or the train or the graveyard with the stone too white, the wilting mayflowers at its base. There was nothing Mary would not do, no end to the comfort she would offer. His hands were at her waist and her breast, eased beneath her skirts, and she coaxed him on. When he brought both back to cup her face, she’d smiled under his lips. When he lay back against the sand and brought her to lie next to him, her head resting upon his chest, she’d come with him.

“I should have asked, Miller Douglas?”

“He married Ada Parker six months ago. I didn’t shed a tear, except that they should be happy,” she said. “To be honest, I didn’t fancy being a shopkeeper’s wife, but I would have made the best of it.”

“I’m alive, but I don’t know what I have to offer,” Jem said. Mary thumped him on the chest, hard enough to notice, soft enough to be nothing more than a scolding.

“You’ve yourself and I’m myself. You don’t have to offer me anything,” she said.

“That’s the first lie you’ve told,” he said.

“Then remember me. This. How it was, how it might be,” she said. “Grieve and suffer and if you want, I’ll be there for it. Or you can come round in a while, when you’re sorted out. I’m in no hurry. I’ve an idea of how to run a doctor’s house, no offense to your mother or Susan, and I’d like to try it out some time.”

“Will there be much pie?” Jem asked.

“There will be honey-cake, pots and pots of clover honey ready to drizzle. That’s your favorite.”

“Call me James again,” he said.

She propped herself up on his chest so he could see her face, the curve of her lips, her silvery hair hanging loose around her cheeks.

“I believe you meant to say, please, James. Mind yourself, then.”

Tagging @gogandmagog who posted this:

DIANA, teasingly: “You, anyhow. I saw you kissing Faith Meredith in school last week ... and Mary Vance, too.”

JEM:- “For mercy’s sake, don’t let Susan hear you say that. She might forgive it with Faith but never with Mary Vance.” From The Blythes Are Quoted

And @freyafrida who wrote "also want to write jem/mary fic now although i have zero ideas for anything apart from the ship"

[nevillongbottom-blog]

🌸🦄🔮 because they all look cool ~ my name is tom! (also i love your blog sm)

Aww thanks !! That makes me so happy! Your playlist is under the cut x

Tom | Beanies. Naps throughout the day. Black coffee every morning. Cycling everywhere. Stick insects. Chewing gum; Mint. 

URL: ♡  ♡  ♡  ♡  ♡  | SUGAR QUILL Icon:  ♡  ♡   ♡  ♡  ♡ | SHERBET LEMON Theme:  ♡  ♡   ♡  ♡  ♡ | FIZZING WHIZZBEE Content:  ♡  ♡   ♡  ♡  ♡ | LICORICE SNAPS Mobile theme:  ♡  ♡   ♡  ♡  ♡ | CHOCOLATE FROG Overall:  ♡  ♡   ♡  ♡  ♡ | BERTIE BOTT’S EVERY FLAVOUR BEANS

Celebrate 250 300 with me

Playlist for Tom 

Our War - Neon Trees

Can’t Rely On You - Paloma Faith

Back Seat - Atlas Genius

Hurricane - MS MR

Goodnight Moon - Go Radio 

[tuseriesdetv]

Noticias de series de la semana: 'Grace and Frankie' renovada

Renovaciones

Netflix ha renovado Grace and Frankie por una séptima y última temporada

Movistar+ ha renovado Hierro por una segunda temporada

BBC Three ha renovado Jerk por una segunda temporada

Cancelaciones

TBS ha cancelado The Detour tras su cuarta temporada

Noticias cortas

Tucker Albrizzi (Walter) será regular en la segunda temporada de Mr. Iglesias.

La tercera temporada de Westworld tendrá ocho episodios.

Katlynn Simone (Treasure), Meta Golding (Teri), Wood Harris (Damon) y Mario (Devon) serán regulares en la sexta y última temporada de Empire.

Incorporaciones y fichajes

Netflix confirma que Gillian Anderson (The X-Files, Sex Education) será Margaret Thatcher en la cuarta temporada de The Crown.

Milo Ventimiglia (This Is Us, Heroes) interpretará al motorista de acrobacias Evel Knievel en Evel, una limited series de USA Network escrita y producida por Etan Frankel (Sorry For Your Loss).

Darren Criss (Glee, American Crime Story), Patti LuPone (Pose, Penny Dreadful) y Holland Taylor (Two and a Half Men, Mr. Mercedes) protagonizarán Hollywood, de Ryan Murphy para Netflix.

Will Poulter (The Maze Runner, Midsommar) se une a The Lord of the Rings. Se desconocen detalles.

Gary Sinise (CSI: Miami, Forrest Gump) será Robert Ellman, terapeuta familiar que ayudará a Clay (Dylan Minnette) con la ansiedad, en la cuarta y última temporada de 13 Reasons Why.

James Marsden (Westworld, X-Men), Amber Heard (Aquaman, The Danish Girl), Odessa Young (Assassination Nation) y Henry Zaga (13 Reasons Why, Trinkets) protagonizarán The Stand, la adaptación de la novela de Stephen King para CBS All Access. Serán Stu Redman, Nadine Cross, Frannie Goldsmith y Nick Andros. No se ha confirmado la participación de Whoopi Goldberg y Greg Kinnear, que estaban en conversaciones para interpretar a Madre Abigail y Glen Bateman.

Natasha McElhone (Californication, The Truman Show), Bokeem Woodbine (Fargo, Underground), Shabana Azmi (Neerja, Fire), Bentley Kalu, Natasha Culzac y Kate Kennedy se unen al reparto de Halo. McElhone interpretará a Catherine Halsey, creadora de los supersoldados Spartan, y a Cortana, la inteligencia artificial más avanzada de la historia. Woodbine y Azmi serán el corsario Soren-066 y la almirante Margaret Parangosky.

Loretta Devine (The Carmichael Show, Grey's Anatomy) será recurrente en la sexta temporada de Black-ish como Lynette, la nueva prometida de Pop (Laurence Fishburne).

Naomie Ackie (The Bisexual, Lady Macbeth) será Bonnie, una forastera con un pasado problemático y una misteriosa conexión con Alyssa, en la segunda temporada de The End of the F***ing World.

Rochelle Aytes (Mistresses, Designated Survivor) y Danika Yarosh (Heroes Reborn, Shameless) serán recurrentes en la segunda temporada de The Purge.

Tiffany Haddish (Girls Trip), Carmen Ejogo (Selma, True Detective), Blair Underwood (When They See Us), Garrett Morris (2 Broke Girls) y Kevin Carroll (The Leftovers, Snowfall) se unen a Madam C.J. Walker. Serán Lelia, hija de Sarah Breedlove (Octavia Spencer); Addie, peluquera y antigua amiga de Sarah; Chares James Walker, marido de Sarah; Cleophus, padre de Sarah; y Ransom, conserje ferroviario graduado en derecho y patentes por la Universidad de Columbia.

Kali Hawk (New Girl, Bridesmaids) se une como regular a la segunda temporada de Schooled. Será Wilma, profesora de ciencias.

Jason Johnson (The Hate U Give), Ptosha Storey (Empire), Vaughn Hebron (TiTi Do You Love Me?), Teesha Renee, Lodric Collins (Grimm), Ciera Payton (She's Gotta Have It), Taja V. Simpson, Walter Fantleroy (Grey's Anatomy), Brad Benedict (Castle), Travis Cure y Matthew Law (The Paynes) protagonizarán The Oval, la nueva serie de Tyler Perry para OWN, junto a Ed Quinn, Kron Moore, Paige Hurd y Daniel Croix Henderson.

Babou Ceesay (Dark Mon£y, National Treasure), Eve Myles (Keeping Faith, Broadchurch), Dipo Ola (Baghdad Central, Inside No. 9) y Hermione Corfield (The Halcyion) protagonizarán We Hunt Together. Serán dos detectives y dos asesinos.

Daveed Diggs (Hamilton, Snowpiercer), Wyatt Russell (Lodge 49) y Joshua Johnson-Lionel (Ray Meets Helen) protagonizarán Good Lord Bird, adaptación de la novela de James McBride, junto a Ethan Hawke. Serán Frederick Douglass, el antiguo esclavo y líder abolicionista que conoció a John Brown (Hawke) y le aconsejó que no comenzase la redada que acabaría desembocando en una guerra civil; Jeb Stuart, oficial del ejército y enemigo de Brown; y Onion, el esclavo adolescente que se convierte en miembro de la variopinta familia de Brown.

Xosha Roquemore (The Mindy Project, I'm Dying Up Here) y Alano Miller (Underground, Jane the Virgin) protagonizarán Cherish the Day, nueva serie de Ava DuVernay para OWN. Serán Gently James y Evan Fisher, pareja que se conoce y enamora en Los Ángeles.

Deborah Ayorinde (Luke Cage, True Detective) y Ashley Thomas (Salvation, Ice) protagonizarán Them: Covenant, primera temporada de la antología de Lena Waithe. Escrita por Little Marvin y ambientada en 1953, se centra en Lucky y Emory, que deciden mudarse desde North Carolina a un barrio blanco de Los Ángeles, donde fuerzas malvadas tanto reales como sobrenaturales intentarán destruirlos.

Olivia Williams (Counterpart, Dollhouse), James Norton (Grantchester, Happy Valley), Tom Riley (Da Vinci's Demons, Ill Behaviour), Nick Frost (Sick Note, Into the Badlands), Ben Chaplin (Dates, Apple Tree Yard), Ann Skelly (Red Rock, Vikings), Eleanor Tomlinson (Poldark, The White Queen), Denis O'Hare (American Horror Story, Big Little Lies), Kiran Sonia Sawar (Pure, Next of Kin), Elizabeth Berrington (Stella, Sanditon), Ella Smith (Ray & Liz, Hoff the Record), Viola Prettejohn, Anna Devlin (12 Monkeys, All the Money in the World), Pip Torrens (Preacher, The Crown), Zackary Momoh (Seven Seconds, No Offence), Amy Manson (Once Upon a Time, The White Princess), Rochelle Neil (Episodes) y Martyn Ford protagonizarán The Nevers junto a Laura Donnelly.

Ian Hart (Boardwalk Empire, Harry Potter), Tanya Moodie (A Discovery of Witches, Sherlock), Joanne Whalley (The Edge of Darkness, The White Princess) y Kerrie Hayes (Little Boy Blue, The Mill) se unen a la tercera y última temporada de Tin Star.

Anne Ramsey (Lisa) y Jerry Adler (Mr. Wicker) también volverán al revival de Mad About You.

Rufus Sewell (The Man in the High Castle, Victoria) y Kaya Scodelario (Skins, The Maze Runner) protagonizarán The Pale Horse, la adaptación de BBC One de la novela de Agatha Christie (1961). Además, estarán Bertie Carvel (Doctor Foster, Baghdad Central), Sean Pertwee (Gotham), Henry Lloyd-Hughes (Killing Eve, Indian Summers), Poppy Gilbert, Madeleine Bowyer, Ellen Robertson, Sarah Woodward, Georgina Campbell (Broadchurch, Flowers), Claire Skinner (Outnumbered, Next of Kin), Rita Tushingham (In the Flesh), Sheila Atim (Harlots) y Kathy Kiera Clarke (Derry Girls).

Pósters

    Nuevas series

Ewan McGregor (Moulin Rouge, Trainspotting) interpretará al diseñador Halston (1932-1990) en una limited series de Ryan Murphy (American Crime Story, Feud) para Netflix.

Milo Ventimiglia (This Is Us, Heroes) interpretará al motorista de acrobacias Evel Knievel en Evel, una limited series de USA Network escrita y producida por Etan Frankel (Sorry For Your Loss).

Joseph Gordon-Levitt (3rd Rock from the Sun, Inception) protagonizará, escribirá, dirigirá y producirá Mr. Corman, drama en desarrollo para Apple sobre un profesor de escuela de Los Ángeles que lidia con la madurez.

Hulu desarrolla The Testaments, adaptación de la novela secuela de The Handmaid's Tale.

Ryan Murphy (Glee, Pose) prepara una miniserie adaptación del musical A Chorus Line. Diez episodios.

HBO Europa ha encargado seis episodios de Tuff Money, comedia rumana sobre dos perdedores adorables que bromean sobre cometer el robo perfecto y se ven obligados a ejecutarlo. Creada y dirigida por Daniel Sandu (Hackerville, One Step Behind the Seraphim).

AMC trabaja en la adaptación de la novela gráfica Farmhand, de Rob Guillory, con un granjero sureño que creó una planta que es capaz de fabricar órganos humanos y salva muchas vidas. Ahora, algo siniestro ha echado raíces en su granja familiar. Producida por LaToya Morgan (Into the Badlands).

AMC desarrolla Of Two Minds, comedia negra sobre una mujer que sufre una lesión traumática en el cerebro que hace que sus dos hemisferios no se comuniquen y deberá construir una nueva forma de vida con dos cerebros en constante desacuerdo. Producida por Morgan Dover Pearl.

Showtime ha adquirido Three Women, basada en el libro de Lisa Taddeo (2019), que necesitó diez años para investigar los casos y escribir el libro. La propia Taddeo escribirá y producirá la serie, que contará la historia real de tres mujeres americanas que sufrieron reacciones públicas y/o privadas por sus deseos sexuales: Una madre en la treintena que reconecta con un amor del instituto cuando su marido rechaza afecto físico, una veinteañera que denuncia a su antiguo profesor por perseguir una relación sexual cuando ella tenía diecisiete y la dueña de un restaurante cuyo marido y socio elige sus parejas sexuales.

Amy Schumer (Inside Amy Schumer, I Feel Pretty) protagonizará, producirá, escribirá y dirigirá la comedia Love, Beth para Hulu. Diez episodios.

Amazon encarga The Banker's Wife, thriller internacional centrado en el mundo de las finanzas sobre dos mujeres que buscan respuestas tras un misterioso accidente de avión y encuentran cuentas secretas, blanqueo de dinero y una red terrorista. Basada en la novela de Cristina Alger (2018), escrita por Meredith Stiehm, creadora de Cold Case y The Bridge y guionista de Homeland o Beverly Hills, 90210, y dirigida por Lesli Linka Glatter (Homeland, Mad Men). Ocho episodios.

HBO Max encarga Made for Love, basada en la novela de Alissa Nutting (2017). Cristin Milioti (How I Met Your Mother, Fargo) interpretará a Hazel Green, una mujer que se refugia en su pueblo natal, donde viven su padre viudo y su muñeca sexual, escapando de su marido Byron Gogol, un multimillonario sociópata que le ha implantado un chip en la cabeza que le da un acceso sin precedentes a su cerebro. Escrita por Patrick Somerville (The Leftovers, Maniac) y dirigida por S.J. Clarkson (Collateral, Life on Mars).

Apple desarrolla False Flag, remake de la serie israelí. La primera temporada contaba la historia de cinco personas que se ven injustamente implicadas en un secuestro tras la desaparición del Ministro de Defensa iraní. Los boletines no paran de mostrar sus fotos y sus nombres y sus intentos de limpiar su nombre no dan frutos. Incluso el Gobierno los acusa, y están convencidos de que el Mossad, la agencia de inteligencia de su país, está tras la operación.

CBS All Access encarga The Man Who Fell to Earth, adaptación de la novela de Walter Tevis (1963) y la película protagonizada por David Bowie (1976) en la que un alienígena que llega a la Tierra en busca de agua para su planeta deberá enfrentarse a su pasado para determinar nuestro futuro. Escrita y producida por Alex Kurtzman, Jenny Lumet y John Hlavin. Kurtzman dirigirá también.

Amazon adquiere Truth Seekers, comedia sobre dos investigadores de lo paranormal que descubren y graban avistamientos en Reino Unido y los cuelgan en su canal online. Las experiencias sobrenaturales son cada vez más frecuentes y aterradoras cuando empiezan a descubrir una conspiración que podría amenazar a la raza humana. Escrita y protagonizada por Simon Pegg (Shaun of the Dead, The Boys) y Nick Frost (Shaun of the Dead, Sick Note). Ocho episodios.

Danny Trejo (Machete), Franziska Schissler y Dilan Gwyn (Beyond, Da Vinci's Demons) protagonizarán Paragon, serie de ciencia ficción en la que el cielo ha desaparecido y los humanos e incluso la Muerte luchan por entrar en una pequeña parte del más allá, un lugar llamado Elysian. Trejo será Kincaid, el líder semimuerto de un grupo de parcas. Busca cadena. Siete episodios.

Viola Davis desarrolla Fast Color, adaptación de la película de 2018 con tres mujeres con superpoderes, para Amazon. Julia Hart y Jordan Horowitz, guionistas de la película, escribirán el piloto.

Amazon desarrolla la serie adaptación de Event Horizon, película de terror de 1997. Producida y dirigida por Adam Wingard (Blair Witch).

Netflix encarga Into the Night, primera serie original de Bélgica, en el que los pasajeros de un vuelo a Bruselas intentan sobrevivir cuando el Sol empieza a destruir todo lo que se cruza en su camino.

Fechas

Defending the Guilty se estrena en BBC Two el 17 de septiembre

Watchmen se estrena en HBO el 20 de octubre.

La segunda temporada de Jack Ryan llega a Amazon el 1 de noviembre

El revival de Mad About You se estrena en Spectrum el 20 de noviembre

Tráilers y promos

Limetown

The Purge - Temporada 2

Defending the Guilty

Monarca

Criminal

It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia - Temporada 14

World on Fire

[olaabingdon]

Bertram Ratcliffe MC Prisoner of War and Escapee

To commemorate Armistice Day and Remembrance Sunday, for my blog this week I attach an article I wrote some years ago for the school magazine. The article concerns perhaps OLA’s most illustrious former pupil, in whose honour we have named the Senior School library. He was a gallant and daring officer whose devotion to his old school was unwavering.

There is little doubt that Captain Bertram Louis Ratcliffe MC was one of the most remarkable pupils ever to attend what, in later times, was to become Our Lady’s Abingdon. The episode for which he is mainly known is his dramatic escape from a train in northern Germany as a prisoner of war during the First World War, but there is much more to Ratcliffe than this. As well as being a career soldier he was at various times an actor, writer, businessman and benefactor of his old school, dying at the ripe old age of ninety-eight in 1992. His uncle was the great industrialist Lord Brotherton, who himself was a major benefactor of the library at Leeds University that bears his name and in whose collections Ratcliffe’s papers and memorabilia are now gathered. Many of Ratcliffe’s books, including an account of the early life of Napoleon Bonaparte, are still available and provide a fascinating insight into the interests that preoccupied him from the period immediately after the Great War right up to his death. His 1935 novel ‘Idle Warriors’ gives a more or less faithful account of his experiences during the defining period of his life, his three year imprisonment at a camp for officers near the Bavarian town of Ingolstadt.

Ratcliffe was born on 8th March 1893 in what was then the prosperous London suburb of Upton Park, West Ham, an area that had recently been developed as a desirable residential district for employees of the City of London. Ratcliffe’s parents, both Roman Catholics, moved there from their original home in Manchester some time before the birth of their youngest son, perhaps attracted by West Ham’s status as a growing centre of Catholicism with its newly built and impressive church of St Antony of Padua. According to the Census record, by 1901 Ratcliffe’s mother had moved to Hornsey in Middlesex, while his father appears to have emigrated to Australia. A year later young ‘Bertie’ was sent away to Abingdon to board at St. Joseph’s, the preparatory school founded by the Sisters of Mercy in 1883 as a sister establishment to Our Lady’s, the girls’ convent school they had started in the early 1860s. The boys’ school prepared its pupils for the major Catholic public schools such as Downside, Douai and Ampleforth although this was not the route that Ratcliffe was to follow. He remained as a pupil until 1905, saying later in life that it was the only school he attended where he was truly happy. His affection for the school is shown by his many benefactions to it in later years and his frequent visits to events such as the annual Prizegiving.

In the summer of 1907 Ratcliffe started as a boarder in the Head Master’s House at Harrow School, where he was to remain until 1912. After leaving Harrow, he became an officer cadet at the Royal Military College Sandhurst, from where he passed out in July 1913 with a commission in the 14th the Prince of Wales’ Own West Yorkshire Regiment. Not much more than a year later he was to be caught up in the general mobilisation that occurred as the British Expeditionary Force was formed to cross the Channel and prosecute the war against Germany. At 6.15 am on 7th September 1914, along with the officers and 959 men of the regiment’s 1st Battalion, he left Southampton for France on the troop ship Cawdor Castle and by 16th September had reached the Aisne River. This was the period in the war following the Allied victory at the Battle of the Marne, but by the middle of September the Germans had begun a counter-attack. The British line was being heavily bombarded as, on the 19th of the month and in heavy rain, Ratcliffe’s Battalion replaced the Coldstream Guards on the heights of Craonne. Here they held the extreme right of the British line, with the Fifth French Army to their flank. Enemy snipers opened up before they were properly dug in, but they worked on trenches through the night and were able to stand to arms at 3.30 am. These were the very earliest days of the trench warfare that was later to become the defining feature of the Western Front. At 5.00 am the Germans launched a heavy infantry attack on the French who, having suffered heavy casualties, withdrew. Just over an hour later the incident occurred that Ratcliffe later used for the opening lines of ‘Idle Warriors’:

‘Possibly it was the blade of my raised sword that, glinting in the rays of the morning sun, drew the marksman’s bullet. I saw him fling himself upon the ground and take aim, and I pointed my sword at him and at the little groups of grey men that were appearing from among the trees and making alternate rushes towards us down the green slopes. I was not afraid; for there is courage in ignorance, and I was barely twenty years old.

Suddenly a mailed fist struck my right shoulder; an electric shock passed through my body; my sword spun from my hand: I was falling dizzily as one falls in a dream ... down, down at ever increasing speed. Then I found that I had stopped, and, to my astonishment, that I had only reached the bottom of the half-dug pit in which I had been standing a moment before. Blood filled my mouth and a hot stream was spreading over my back.’

Across the day the 1st Battalion suffered heavy casualties and, by its end, only 5 officers and 250 men remained. Seven officers were killed, two were wounded and eight were counted as missing: Ratcliffe, who had been taken prisoner by the Germans at 2.00 pm, was one of these. Unable to walk, he was placed on a cart and by 23rd September found himself in the town of Laon. Throughout this time his wound had remained undressed and he had received no medical attention. Under French administration, he was lodged in the Lycée with a number of other captured British and French officers and here he describes himself as being well looked after by a French doctor. His wound received attention and he was moved, on 8th October, to the Palais de Justice in the same town. Finally, on 10th October, he was packed into a fourth class train carriage along with twenty-four German soldiers and, passing through Cologne and Frankfurt, travelled south. Five days later, the train arrived at Ingolstadt in Bavaria. Here, along with six French officers, he was made to walk ten kilometres to Fort X, one of a ring of forts that had been built around the town by its Bavarian rulers as a redoubt in the nineteenth century. In ‘Idle Warriors’, Fort X is given the name Fort Prinz Heinrich and here, in rather lurid terms, Ratcliffe describes his introduction to what was to be his home for the foreseeable future. ‘I seemed to have travelled far, not only by road and rail, but through time as well. Fort Prinz Heinrich? The great gates swinging on dusty hinges; the screeching bolts; the moat; the piled-up cannon balls; the sentries half seen in the lantern rays; the colossal figure of the commandant; the evil glint in the eye of his secretary, Muller; the sickening blow from the sentry’s rifle.’

In the interview he gave to the British military authorities on his return to England in April 1917, Ratcliffe described the camp and his experiences there in more detail: ‘The fort is surrounded by a moat; all the windows are barred, and the entrance is by means of a tunnel. All the rooms are underground; regular casemates. I was placed in a room with five French officers; we each had a bed, straw mattresses, one sheet, a straw pillow, two blankets, and a stool issued to us. In the room there was also a small table, large enough to accommodate four, at which we had to eat all our meals ... The guards, as a rule, were respectful. We had two roll-calls a day, at 9 a.m. and 4 p.m., and were allowed out until 7 p.m.’ Of the 3,000 or so men at Ingolstadt, only twenty-five were British. Here Ratcliffe remained until 19th April 1915, when he was allowed to go to the military hospital at Ingolstadt for an operation on his right arm, which had been useless since he had been wounded. After the operation, conducted by a nerve specialist named Dr. Funroeher, he regained the use of the arm and was allowed to convalesce for two months.

In April 1916 Ratcliffe was transferred to another of Ingolstadt’s military prisons, Fort VIII, which he describes as more comfortable than his former billet. Throughout his time as a prisoner of war he is conscious of his duty to escape, but the fort’s location in Bavaria made a successful breakout almost an impossibility. Prisoners at the various Ingolstadt forts did try to get away, but the vast majority were recaptured and sometimes transferred to the notorious Fort IX, reserved for really difficult cases. The future General de Gaulle, to be encountered by Ratcliffe in the Second World War, spent some time here after making himself too troublesome to his captors. Ratcliffe himself got into trouble when, in May 1916, he was put in the cells for a week after a map of Bavaria was found in his luggage. The opportunity that was to lead to his escape only came nearly a year later in early April 1917, when he and a number of other British officers were told that they were to be transferred to a new camp in the north western corner of Germany at Krefeld.

Their journey, under armed guard, began on April 6th when they were put on a train travelling to Cologne via Würzburg. The train arrived at Cologne at 5.30 pm on the afternoon of the 7th from where, after a change of trains, Ratcliffe and his fellow prisoners set off again an hour later. In his London interview he recalled the next dramatic steps in surprisingly matter of fact terms: ‘The journey continued, and at about 8 p.m. we arrived at a small junction 2 kilometres south of Crefeld. It being dusk, we five {British officers} left the train as it was drawing out of the station, ran a short way along the line until we came to a crossing, where we divided into three groups.’ In ‘Idle Warriors’ he gave this same episode, the beginning of his daring escape, the value it deserved:

‘Half an hour went by. We were travelling fast and jagged blocks of stone, strewn along the embankment, did not encourage that vital leap. Another ten minutes went by, another five. Featherstone {the name Ratcliffe gives to his fellow escapee, Squadron Commander Briggs} and I searched one another’s eyes. It was time to act. Suddenly the Bavarian officer appeared in the doorway. “In a few minutes we shall be at our destination. You will please prepare your things.”

Then, as he turned away, the opportunity came: it could have come at no better time or place; for the light was fading, and the line was running nearer to the frontier than it had done throughout the journey. The train began to slow up, giving us, as it were, a sign, and putting my head out of the window I had a swift vision of troops leaning from the train and waving to women in houses besides the line; ...Wildly I wrenched at the handle. Why wouldn’t it turn? Damn the thing. Featherstone’s voice was at my ear, impatient, tense: “Quick, for God’s sake ... open the bloody door ... open it ... Hell!”

The handle gave, the door flew open and I leapt, or rather fell out, bounced helplessly, turned head over heels, picked myself up and started to run. Beside me I felt rather than saw Featherstone, running and breathing heavily. Well, we had done it now, we had plunged ... and the train was already out of sight.’

Briggs and Ratcliffe had on them only a map and a compass, now in the Liddle Collection at Leeds University, and some chocolate. They were dressed in full British uniform, Ratcliffe in a knee length coat and puttees. Once off the train they were soon spotted by two men and had to run across some ploughed fields to get away from them: ‘We kept on walking until 4.30 am the following morning, never touching the roads, always going across ploughed fields; then we hid in a small wood by the side of the road until 8.30 p.m., when we started off again on our journey, across more marshes and on until midnight, when we struck into a very big forest, walked for one and a half hours through the forest until we suddenly struck a sentry.’ At this point Ratcliffe and Briggs separated, Ratcliffe being pursued by the sentry until he managed to evade him by lying low in a ditch. At around 2.00 a.m. he set off again and soon saw the line of barbed wire that marked the border with Holland. Unfortunately, he was immediately spotted by another German soldier. ‘I started to run as hard as I could over the frontier, but I had only done about four paces when I caught my foot in a furze bush and fell. The sentry followed me, and when I got up he was standing 2 yards from me.’

The two men now had a conversation in the moonlight, at the conclusion of which Ratcliffe bribed the sentry for 25 marks to let him go. He was then allowed to make a dash for the border, finally arriving in Holland at 5.30 a.m. on the morning of April 9th. Eventually, after reporting to the police and proceeding via Venlo and Rotterdam, he was handed over to the British Consul and by April 12th was back in London. On this day he sent a telegram to relatives in Yorkshire saying that he had escaped and the interview quoted from above took place at his brother Edward’s home in Ealing. This interview, now lodged in the National Archives at Kew, is the main source for the information we have about Ratcliffe’s prison experiences, the details of which were fleshed out so dramatically in ‘Idle Warriors’ eighteen years later. On 18th April King George V invited Ratcliffe, who by this time was staying in Yorkshire, to come back to London to tell him about his escape, an event which duly took place at a lunch at Windsor Castle on the 23rd. For his brave exploits he was awarded the Military Cross.

The later events of Ratcliffe’s long life are also of great interest and will one day provide rich material for a biographer. He spent the period from 1917-19 as ADC to Major-General Sir P. C. Palin in Palestine, retiring from the Army in 1920. In 1924 he married the Belgian pianist, Andrée Marie-Helene Vauthier, and in the Second World War was appointed staff captain on the British military mission to General de Gaulle and the Free French. The dustcover of his 1981 account of the early life of Napoleon gives the following information about how he occupied his time when not serving his country: ‘After the war he took up an apprenticeship with a merchant firm in the City before establishing his own company importing Scandinavian products. He then became a director and later chairman of an industrial chemical firm. After a short period as a professional actor he took up two further chairmanships ... before devoting his time to writing.’ In addition he became a benefactor of his old school in Abingdon, giving a large sum in 1948 to equip the school library that was named after him. He also donated money to fund an annual Ratcliffe History Prize and the Hilaire Belloc Prize, for which he sought and gained the consent of Belloc himself. Ratcliffe was a regular attender of the annual Prizegiving and donated other items to the school, such as footballs and boxing gloves. He also contributed poems to the school magazine.

It is fitting to end by citing the motto of Bertram Ratcliffe’s old regiment, the West Yorkshires: ‘nec aspera terrent’. The harshness of war held no fear for this former pupil of the Sisters of Mercy and, as we continue to commemorate the centenary of the First World War, it is appropriate once again to recall his name.