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aro-paladin-pidge · 2 years ago

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Music hcs for the paladins cuz I’m bored + the inevitable Klance Music war. (I know next to nothing about music, so most of it’ll be the various stages of my music taste + some of the stuff my family likes.)

Keith likes pretty much anything 90s alternative. Grunge, hardcore, alt rock, all of it. Nirvana, Chili Peppers, Green Day. His favorite song is Brain Stew by Green Day. Lance makes fun of him for being mainstream, and thus begins The Music War. All paladins are drafted. Fierce battles are fought in the castle hallways. The casualties number in the dozens of speakers, drones, rigged headphones/earbuds, and one giant Altean super-stereo. It only end when Shiro tries to get them into MCR (he had an emo phase) and they unite against the common enemy. Keith will die before he says anything, but he falls in love with Danger Days.

Lance is very passionate about his 90s skate punk. The Offspring, Authority Zero, Rancid, all that stuff. His favorite song is Time Bomb by Rancid. He has an extensive collection of vintage cassettes back on earth, knows all the lyrics, and absolutely loathes every band Keith has ever expressed a passing interest in. He kicks off one of the most furious battles when he insists that Green Day sold out (he’ll never admit that he used to rock out to American Idiot), and later on, Shiro nearly restarts The War when he says that The Offspring are almost as mainstream as Green Day.

Pidge is absolutely into, like, 2010s pop punk. All Time Low, Good Charlotte, The Cab, probably some Green Day even though they’re punk rock. They don’t have a favorite song, but I can totally see Pidge rocking out to Revolution Radio. They’re loud and obnoxious about it, blasting their music at 2 in the morning when they can’t sleep (the castle’s walls are soundproofed, but after… Matt totally begs for rooms on the other side of the Atlas.) When the war comes, they serve as Lance’s second, though he makes them swear to never play any Green Day. They sneak a Foxboro Hottubs song into one of his playlists, and it almost results in civil war.

Rounding off Lance’s side in The War is Shiro. (which is why Lance was so betrayed by his Offspring comment + the MCR schism) No one believes it at first, but he’s actually a diehard punk. Subgenres be damned, if it’s got the word ‘punk’ slapped somewhere on it, Shiro loves it. Death, Sex Pistols, Anti-Flag, everything. His favorite song is definitely Brandenburg Gate by Anti-Flag (he used to sing it to Adam all the damn time-“Hey, honey, I want to share something with you.” “Aw, go ahead.” “I LOST MY BABY TO A FOREIGN WAR/SHE HE WAS CUT DOWN IN THE GUNFIRE OF THE WESTERN WORLD-” “I’m not fucking dead you asshole!”)

When Allura learns about human music, she falls in love with 2010s indie/pop rock. American Authors, The Score, X Ambassadors, that kind of thing. Her favorite song is Paint the Town Green by The Score. Once drafted into The Music War, she fights for Team Mainstream/Keith. On her most daring mission (replacing the intercom speakers in Shiro’s and Lance’s rooms with ones rigged to play a constant loop of Green Day’s Welcome to Paradise) she is captured and forced to listen to actually good music, Allura (Lance’s playlist) and it is here that the Foxboro Hottubs treachery is discovered. She manages to escape during the resulting argument.

Hunk does not particularly care about music, but he is drafted nonetheless. When he (very rarely) listens to music, it’s that singer-songwriter folk rock shit you get on the radio. Mumford & Sons, The Lumineers, The Strumbellas, that kind of thing. Naturally, he sides with Team Mainstream, causing a rift within the Garrison Trio. Lance insists that Hunk is dead to him, Shiro gives him his best Disappointed Dad Look™, and Pidge goes on a Hunk-food hunger strike for 2 days before they can’t stomach the food goo anymore. It is Hunk who manages to destroy the giant Altean super-stereo Team Punk/Lance hides in a closet behind their base of operations (empty castle bedroom #426). His favorite song (and only example of good taste) is Mr. Brightside by The Killers.

Coran is the only neutral party in The Music War, as he listens to Irish folk music (Shiro tries to get him into Flogging Molly, but tragically fails) and is neutral about everything else. He provides necessary relief supplies (earplugs and noise-cancelling headphones) to both sides, and calls cease-fires for missions. He single-handedly prevented The Second Music War.

#Voltron #paladins #voltron headcanons #music headcanons #headcanons #Pidge #Coran #Allura #Shiro #Hunk #Lance #Keith

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littlebookreader · 3 years ago

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Ego ne hic quidem

This has two parts: Information and the fic itself. For slightly easier accessibility, I will put both in this post itself.

Some information first:

Summary: Fleet looks for a missing cat. (For the Tueday prompt ‘Favourite Main Character’ of the Victoriocity Appreciation Week 2021. Takes place a week after ‘SMS Brandenburg’. )

Fandoms: Victoriocity(Podcast)

Rating: General Audiences

Relationships: Gen, F/M

Word count: 912 words

Characters: Inspector Archibald Fleet , John Balmoral, Edward Sandringham, Clara Entwhistle, Mrs. Pomligan (mentioned)

Additional Tags: Missing kitty, tumblr info makes its way into this(for some reason), Sanmoral being actually useful in this, the wheel and paper becoming friend will also pop up later, shipping if you use a fine tooth comb, can’t really think of much else, author regrets everything, no beta we goose chase like Fleetwhistle, here you go

@victoriocity-appreciation for the Favourite Main Character.

Part 2 of Love, Actually.

This was the information. For the rest of the fic, it’s all under the cut.

Fic:

Running a new detective agency with your partner can be quite the task, as Fleet was slowly beginning to learn. Over the course of the last week, he’d been dragged all across London to find the owner of brooch, more or less reduced his inhibitions about the Flying Circus, been switched off and kidnapped subsequently, and succeeded in taking down a nationwide spy ring. There was another little(major) worry he’d had, but he didn’t quite wish to think about it, right then.

Right then, he was a machination, a true marvel of science, set off to go find a missing cat.

He had made it something of a habit to reach the offices early, in case something truly threatening should cross his desk. Clara, surprisingly, had turned out to be something of a night light, and stayed the evenings, even wandering the area till as late as three in the morning.

Right then, this had actually worked out in her favour, so Fleet was left all alone hunting for a miniscule cat in a city that he could only describe as being larger than life.

“Come on, Archie, you can find a cat. Surely.”

“And I have no doubt, that you can.”

He jumped back, surprised, only to find that it was the team who’d dragged him into the mess that was the previous week, in the first place.

“Aren’t you supposed to be off doing secret missions for the Queen and suchlike?”

Balmoral, was it, rolled his eyes, while Sandringham(Vidocq’s twin child, if he remembered correctly) smiled cryptically. “That’s for us to know, and you to never find out.”

“Hopefully,” he muttered. “Then if it isn’t for a mission, what EXACTLY are you doing here?”

“Oh, we just thought we’d say goodbye.”

“Goodbye.”

“Yes, goodbye.”

“So, why do you have to find a cat?”

He shrugged. “For a client. It’s almost relaxing in a way, not having to deal with some nationwide conspiracy for once.”

The partners laughed, following which Balmoral added: “That’s there. I almost envy your simplicity, detective.”

“And your stupidity,” Sandringham snarked.

“I will have you know; I have almost found the cat.”

“Have you now?”

Fleet may have learned how to keep secrets over the years, but everyone he ever spoke to, generally agreed that he was a terrible liar.

“No, not really. I do not even know where to start!”

“Well, I used to own a tabby at university once-“ Sandringham nodded in agreement, as if remembering something fondly. “and she went missing for a bit, when I was in my final year. As if on a wild impulse, one day, I left out an old jumper that she loved sleeping in and some water in a bowl, where I’d seen her last. Three days later, I found her, sleeping in it, as if nothing had ever happened!”

Fleet gaped; he had to admit, this had never really struck him as a possible solution. Now that Balmoral had described it, practically pointed it out, really, he knew exactly where to start.

“That-that actually makes sense, thank you!”

“Happy to help, detective.”

With that, the two left, while Fleet rushed off towards what had been the former location of the Tower, and made the preparations accordingly. As he began laying out the owner’s clothing, he heard footsteps approaching.

“Hello, I’m sorry I’m late, Augusta had this whole incredible assignment about a wheel and a paper becoming friends- What are you doing?”

“Oh, we had a client today who lost her cat. This is how I plan to find her.”

“Looks fascinating, let’s hope it works!” She paused, then added, “I thought I’d find you here actually.”

“Oh, and why is that?”

“Well, it’s where the Tower used to be. I would understand if….” She trailed off, letting her concerns hang in the air.

“Ah, don’t worry too much about it.” He continued to work, while he talked, though there was something about Clara’s very presence that seemed to speed the entire process along. He couldn’t quite explain what, but it wasn’t…….unpleasant, exactly.

He finished the set-up, looked up at her and asked, “Should we leave?”

“Absolutely.”

Neither quite had the heart to hire a cab, so they walked back to the coffeehouse, where they would resume their work.

“There’s actually a reason why I went looking for you.”

He raised an eyebrow, confused. Clara hadn’t seemed all that worried when she first arrived….or had he simply failed to notice? “What was it?”

“Er, I think it’s best if you just saw for yourself.”

She flipped through her notebook, a new acquisition, and pulled out a small piece of paper, neatly folded in the pages. “I found this slipped under our door when I reached the offices. What do you think it means?”

He blinked at the words, scrawled across in a neat cursive. Ego ne hic quidem. “I-I’m afraid my Latin is rather poor, Clara.”

She looked back at him, unimpressed. “I know what the phrase means, Fleet. I’m not even here. It’s what I said to you when we visited the crime scene and you didn’t want me to keep interrupting. How would they know?”

He pursed his lips, realization slowly dawning on him. “Someone is watching us. If we don’t find out who, and fast, it could mean trouble.”

They looked at each other, then quickly raced back downstairs to ask Mrs. Pomligan what she knew about the note, and who might have delivered it.

#victoriocity #Victoriocity appreciation week 2021 #inspector fleet #inspector Archibald fleet #Archibald fleet #fleetwhistle #clara entwhistle #balmoral #sandringham #kinda #sanmoral #sandmoral #mrs pomligan #(mentioned)#prompt answer #here you go #yikes for a fic #little book writing

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helianskies · 3 years ago

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Oooh I'm interested in most of them, but since I still have some sense of shame I'm not going to ask about all of them (I'll do that another day) XD

And you are absolutely right, you shouldn't be sorry, most of them are Engspa and they are wonderful

I am gonna ask about the poly ones then, so 4 and 11, pretty please ♡

well luckily for you i am shameLESS and i love that you've picked these ones! <3 i'm going to do here what i did with the last ask, which is write one now, and then share the other as a separate post later on down the line.

so this time i'm starting of with numero 4! which is, fun fact, a sequel to a soulmate au work i wrote for aph rarepair week this year! you can find the original work here on AO3, but for now, here's a fluffy (and somewhat suggestive 👀) snippet from a potential sequel!

4. how to cope with a long-distance relationship (PrUKSpa)

Gilbert had not expected a text from his brother that morning asking him to meet him at Brandenburg, of all places. Seriously, he thought to himself as he snaked his way through all the other people coming up from the U-Bahn station, who the heck picks a tourist spot to meet? It’s not like he doesn’t know where I live! But even if he disliked it, it was for Ludwig, and he wasn’t going to question it. If it was easier for him, then Gilbert would of course accommodate him.

Even if he really, really hated having to walk amongst tourists.

At least they never bothered him too much when he was commuting to work. That was something...

As he approached the famed Brandenburg Gate, he saw the swarms of people and bit his tongue. The odd bright sign advertised guided tours around the square. The cafés in the area were flooded, as was the tourist office. The embassies to the left were noticeably less busy. He wondered what it was like to work in them (dull, he imagined, before moving his attention elsewhere). In the distance, the Victory Column stood tall and proud and no doubt just as infested—stop being so damn negative, they’re here to enjoy your culture, not shit all over it!—and with that, Ludwig fell into view just beyond the Gate’s columns.

(The reason Gilbert was extra prickly that afternoon was unfortunately due to a message he’d received at about six o’clock in the morning (German time!) that had come all the way from England: ‘Hey Gil, we won’t be able to go ahead with tonight’s date plan, something’s come up and both of us have somewhere important we need to be… sorry xx’. Antonio had sent it. Gilbert had been surprised he was awake at such a time of day, but the contents of the text had naturally been more surprising. And disappointing. They'd never cancelled before, not in all the six months they’d been seeing each other…)

With a figurative kick up his own ass, he picked up the pace and passed by the lurkers, tourists, and locals in the area. When Ludwig finally spotted him, he gave a single, firm wave, which was half-heartedly matched by his brother. He got closer, closer, closer still—and as he walked under the Gate to where Ludwig stood by one of the area signs, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He’d check it in a moment, he decided—it couldn’t have been as important as whatever he’d been summoned there for.

“Sorry if I interrupted any plans you had,” Ludwig remarked, “this shouldn’t take long, this just seemed like a… fairly convenient place to meet you.”

“What, better than my own apartment?” Gilbert said with a scoff, though it was in jest. “It’s fine, honestly. Luckily for you, my plans today have all been canc—… postponed.” Or at least, that’s what he hoped, he hadn’t yet received a response to the text he’d sent about rescheduling…

Still, Ludwig seemed just as surprised as Gilbert had been. Thank God, it’s not just me! “That’s unusual,” he mused. “What were you going to do together?”

“Dinner and movie night,” he responded. Gilbert had been looking forward to it all week—he’d even bought wine specially! “It’s alright though, it sounded kinda important, whatever it is they need to do this evening. ‘S not for me to say yes or no, you know?”

Ludwig gave a hum and a slow nod. “Well, with any luck, you’ll see them both soon enough to make up for it.”

God, I hope so. He may have even said it aloud, with an exhale that screamed how much he truly wanted it to be the case.

It had already been, what, three days since the three of them had last done a video call? Sure, they’d had a normal phone call, but it wasn’t the same as being able to see them—seeing Antonio smile and gush over his latest purchase, or a recipe he’d found, and seeing Arthur next to him looking as enamoured and incredulity, because he’d no doubt already heard it all already, but nevertheless enjoyed the other’s voice as much as Gilbert did.

He was lucky to have both of them. He trusted them both. Missed them both. Wished he could call them up and talk to them both, though he figured that they’d be busy, right? With work, or… something else. Maybe I should text them, just to check in—

There was a tap on his shoulder. Gilbert jumped out of his skin and turned to see who the Hell had done that, but there was no one there. He continued to turn, round and round, until he felt another tap on his back, so he turned back the other way, until he was left faced with Ludwig again, who looked highly amused by something, and Gilbert gained a frown.

“Are you messing with me?” he accused his brother, who put his hands up in mock surrender. “I didn’t come all this way for you to have a laugh, you know!”

“Maybe not, but I did.”

That wasn’t Ludwig. The German was a bit off—a bit broken and accented, but in a… rather familiar way that made his breath catch in his throat, because there was… there was no way, surely… There’s seriously no way… But Gilbert’s frown instantly vanished and he turned around again—slower, this time—until the Brandenburg Gate was back in view, and right in front of him, somehow, what the fuck—

“Tadaaa,” Antonio smiled at him, giving a little wave. Gilbert was lost for words, mouth hanging open, finding himself in a dream—and that made the brunette laugh, switching them to English: “Sorry to cancel our date tonight, Toto, but like I said: we had somewhere important we needed to be. I… hope you don’t mind.”

Gilbert felt like he was simultaneously going to explode, cry, fall over, and scream. He wanted to say, ‘as if I would!’ or ‘this beats a film night by a mile’ or even ‘am I dreaming because this feels so goddamn freaking impossible’ but no such words came from him. Instead, he made a strange, strangled noise, and more or less threw himself at Antonio, trapping the other in his arms and nearly toppling them over at the same time.

It had been six months since he’d been able to hug him. In that time, his love and appreciation had grown exponentially, and culminated in this: a bear hug, and a ferocious desire to never let go. When Antonio started to hug him back, buried against Gilbert’s shoulder, that feeling only cemented itself.

That was, until:

“Is there room for one more, or…?”

Gilbert pulled back from Antonio slightly, who he glimpsed smiling away, eyes welling with his own emotions, too, and turned slightly to find—

“Arthur…?”

“No need to sound so unsure; that is my name, yeah,” the blonde joked, rolling his eyes.

He walked from where he had been standing with Ludwig (who promptly excused himself to continue with his day, and promised to call Gilbert that evening) (I think I need to have a few words with my brother…) and joined the pair, not needing an invitation; he was absorbed into the hug by Antonio, whom he then kissed on the cheek, which was a gesture he then also extended to Gilbert, whose shock only deepened. Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God— They were already making him lose his mind and it had been all of thirty seconds!

“This feels good,” Antonio mused quietly as the circle closed, and the three of them huddled close, all holding each other as close as seemed appropriate for such a public space (Gilbert was not familiar at all with PDA, what can I say?), before they parted only slightly, perhaps in fear of being stared at for too long (at least in Gilbert’s case). “It feels good to have both of you here at once.”

“Tell me about it,” Gilbert remarked with an incredulous laugh. This was still so insane to him—so impossible! “I really can’t believe you actually flew out here without telling me, and got Ludwig in on it, too. I think I might actually hate you, you know!”

“Mmh, yeah, for the next two minutes you will,” the brunette agreed with a shrug, his hand finding the nape of Gilbert’s neck and playing with his hair—an entirely foreign but somehow soothing gesture, “but we’ve got a week to make it up to you, if you’re up for it?”

“In what world wouldn’t I be up for it?”

“Online is quite different to in-person,” Arthur reminded him. “You might not find it, or us, as fun.”

“Speak for yourself, Turrón! If that’s how you feel, I’ll steal Gilbert, we’ll go find a bar somewhere, and we’ll have a good time without you!”

“Oh no, no no no, I don’t think so!” the blonde said. “If that's how it's going to be, then I reckon Gilbert and I can go out for a drink, you can chill out in the hotel room, call your brother, relax a bit, and then we’ll come back and then make a mess that’ll really piss off housekeeping in the morning.” He grinned. “Sounds like a nice plan to me.”

That succeeded in keeping Antonio quiet (and a bit more rosy than before) but that was far from what suddenly bothered Gilbert. He felt offended, in fact, by something that had just been said. So, before Antonio could bite back with his trademark pout, and before Arthur could start laughing at his little victory, he interrupted them:

“If you two seriously think I am going to stand here and let you stay in a hotel for an entire week, you’ve got another thing coming,” he stated. “Any mess you want to make, you’re making in my apartment so you’re not pissing off the local population, and then I can make us breakfast in the morning. Are we clear?”

Antonio seemed to bite back a chuckle, though his smile grew. “Oh, sir, yes sir!” he responded, whilst Gilbert was now the one suddenly embarrassed by his own words (gottverdammt!). “Hear that Arthur? Now that is how a gentleman should behave. Breakfast in bed sounds so good…”

“...but you don’t like it gentle, sweetheart.”

The brunette’s face fell, he abruptly smacked Arthur on the arm, and Gilbert laughed all the while as Arthur began to apologise and laugh at the same time as the not-that-brutal attack continued, and Antonio seemed to be cursing him out in violent Spanish. ‘Cabrón’ this, ‘pendejo’ that, and even a rather fruitful ‘que te folle un pez!’ (which was a new one that Gilbert would have to look up a translation for, though he just knew it was one to add to his collection…).

As Antonio eventually calmed down (his Spanish tirade not quite over, however), Gilbert knew that these two idiots really were what brought him a unique, bizarre, but all-encomapssing happiness. He still couldn’t believe they were there. He couldn’t believe that they’d… gone to such lengths, just for him. For him!

Really, the pair of them were a mess; they were chaotic, they were thoughtful, they were sweet, they were… his. It had only been months, but he couldn’t doubt it: they truly were his soulmates, whether they had the marks to prove it or not. Arthur felt like his, just as much as Antonio was. They were all each others’. And while they were in Berlin—while they had this precious time together—he wanted to make it the best week possible—one to remember—something they could cherish forever, and hopefully look back on in years’ time with a wistful smile and air of nostalgia…

But first:

“Alright, children,” he said, clapping his hands together and bringing the conflict to a firm end. “Who fancies a tour?”

“Of your flat?” Antonio suggested.

“Or your bedroom?” Arthur chimed in.

Gilbert blinked. He breathed in. He slowly smiled and suggested: “How about both?”

He’d have to save the city tour for the rest of the week…

#hws prussia #hws england #hws spain #hws prukspa #helia answers #they're gonna have a LOT of fun together heheh #i love this trio so much i just. asldjngxva #thank you for requesting this one!#the next one should be out towards the end of the week ;)#i did not intend to write 2000 words but uh i get carried away we should all know this by now

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grahamxsahi · 4 years ago

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Task 4: Family Ties

Eva Sahi (Brandenburg): Graham’s mother wanted to pursue the life of a ballerina, traveling the world and performing under the lights for adoring crowds. While there was an attraction between his parents, the marriage was encouraged in particular by the Brandenburgs to ensure equal stakes in the merger of two shipping companies. However, Eva settled into the idea of marriage once Graham was born and developed a deep love for her husband. She speaks measured and precisely, never saying more than is absolutely necessary. She is considered the most diplomatic of the family.

The family business is currently being run by Graham’s uncle, with succession based on Graham marrying and starting a family of his own. His mother is extremely eager for Graham to step into this role, as she does not approve of certain business dealings continued by her husband’s brother who is in charge at the moment.

Siddhartha ‘Sid” Sahi: Graham’s father, now deceased, was known for being tough as nails in business. This attribute translated to home, although he was very often away on business trips. Expectations were set high for all the Sahi children, but Sid set the highest for Graham. In turn, Graham often butted heads with Sid, leading his mother and sister to play peacemaker. Graham inherited the title of Duke of Sussex from his father upon his death several years ago.

Sid Sahi often walked a thin line between solid deals benefitting the crown and more secretive, unsavory business dealings benefitting himself. This is unknown to anyone participating in the Season.

Damon Sahi: Graham’s younger brother. Once close, the Sahi brothers had a falling out many years ago, with rumors arising it was over the shared affections of a West country woman. Damon is impulsive, flighty, and Graham is often expected to clean up his messes. The brothers are not on speaking terms.

Rosemary Sahi: The youngest Sahi child and Graham’s sister. She can do no wrong in Graham’s eyes. Rosemary can be as direct as her parents but often cushions it with a tact her mother and father lack. If he trusts one person in his family, it is Rosemary.

*Graham would consider friends and acquaintances closer than family, however for the sake of the task the focus is on his relatives.

#x: about graham #theseason;task #x: task4 #tw death

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bluecastleinthesky · 4 years ago

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please ignore this if the topic makes you uncomfortable.

lots of ww2 stuff in this fandom but no ww1.

so ww1 proto prucan. prussia/canada's interactions over the brutality of the war years. canadas first war to one of prussia's last. their increasing illness as the years pass. what does prussia think of this war and of seeing essentially a child nation fall in line with the brutality of the war? and to adapt to it so well when canada's nature seemed so different from this wars environment?

Okay i’m going to be real here. There is going to be more. So much more. This is going to be long. This may end up being my NaNoWrMo project because my GOD i love WW1. (i’m actually doing my phd centered on it) so here is a snippet. there will be more. Wait for me prompt asker <3

The ending

Canada looked over the silent destruction. The dead had passed and the silence except for the hum of the earth and flies rang in his ears. Picking his way across the field the no longer hostile land permitting his passage he looked for white among the bodies. In the back of his mind he hoped Austria and Germany were feeling every bit of the weariness he felt. But Prussia…he hoped Prussia had ceased to feel at all. He remembered when his mother. Alfred’s mother had begun to fade. How her sense of pain had dulled after decades of incursions by England and others before she finally disappeared ghostlike after France and England officially named America and him as avatars of the land. He wondered if the same would happen to Prussia as Prussian military and governmental power diminished. He hoped it was quick unlike the long slow decay of Rome.

The beginning

Prussia looked glumly over the plans on his desk while he supported William he could not help but wish Fredrick could have kept his shit together another few years. William had been fantastic at the military school he helped at but was absolutely terrible at diplomacy. Not that Prussia was much better. He winced thinking of the last shouting match he had had with Russia the previous week. Still, if William wanted to burn bridges with his cousins that’s what Prussia was going to do he picked up his desk putting the files and letters in his bag every pen and item in its exact spot. Walking through the corridors of the place he looked out the window to the clear April sky. He would have to see if Ludwig wanted to go with him next week to visit Austria and Hungary. While still growing into being a nation his brother had a much better relationship with the two than Prussia did. Ironic really Prussia mused weaving his way around quiet conversations in the hall. Getting to the room he was looking for Prussia straightened himself out again lifting his head high and pushing the doors open.

“Hello Britain” he said coolly moving around to the head of the table receiving a soft humph in response. As he settled in his seat, he looked over the entourage that had come with his British counterpart. Normally Wales or more recently India came along as a secretary and flunky this pale shadow of a nation was a different companion. Prussia let his diplomat and Britain’s conduct their business as he sized up Britain’s companion. Canadia? Canada? It must be as Prussia ran down his list of commonwealth and colonies that Britain owned. Internally Prussia was surprised at the difference between American and Canada. While America was tall and brash and into Prussia’s universities and Austria’s science, Canada seemed smaller, younger. Prussia realized the word he was looking for was ‘colonial’. Still it was not often a different face came to a meeting he would have to formally introduce himself after they finished holding their Admirals hands.

Tuning back into the matter at hand Prussia handed the documents outlining ship and navel changes to Von Tirpitz. Fading back into the background to watch. Things had changed since the unification. Over the last 80 years somehow their kind had slipped from conducting things on their own with the support of their leader to subtly pulling strings and forming connections in the background. The glance Britain gave Prussia was met with a nod to a side door which they both moved to as the meeting moved to business and their bosses sat. The adjoining room was set up with a settee and refreshments which Prussia moved to immediately. “Glass of scotch Britain”

“Of course” the other nation said wandering over to the nearby window.

Pouring the glass under the watchful eye of Canada Prussia handed the drink off to the other nation to take to his master “Did you want something to or…” Prussia asked

“No thank you” the other nation replied taking the drink over to Britain and attempting in Prussia’s eyes quite successfully to fade into the background.

“I can’t believe they’ve tamed you like this” Britain commented as he took a sip.

“We’ve both been tamed” Prussia said resisting the urge to bare his teeth.

“It’s a pity” murmured Britain.

Prussia did not bother responding to that pouring his own drink instead. “I saw America the other day” he finally said “he was harassing the scientists over in Brandenburg again. It’s always a delight when he comes over”

“He doesn’t call does he” Britain said glancing over.

“Never. It’s always a shock to feel him arrive”

“I keep telling him one day he is going to wander onto Switz’s land and be shot”

“It would serve him right” Prussia said with an eyeroll “still nice to have the colonies over” he nodded at the vague shape of Canada (how did he almost literally disappear?).

Britain took the opening “I thought since Canada is becoming more federated it would be useful to begin to meet others. Besides it’s been a while.”

Prussia nodded sitting the settee in a way that would make both his boss’s wife and Ludwig grit their teeth. But honestly if a nation couldn’t lounge tiger like on furniture in their own governmental halls, where could they? Prussia honestly thought that half of his brother’s idea’s of manners and propriety were a result of Austrian and Williams’s wife’s ridiculous standards.

Britain must have read his mind “How’s Germany doing?”

Prussia shrugged “Well he’s gotten tall”

“You should keep an eye on that” Britain warned

The sweet alcohol in Prussia’s glass suddenly soured “I don’t know what you mean” he said derisively looking at the smaller man.

“You know exactly what I mean” Britain said meeting his gaze unflinchingly. “On a lighter note how is Augusta?”

“Charming as ever and off in the countryside for the fresh air”

“She was always such a good child” England said wistfully “She loved the roses at Kent house”

“I remember” Prussia said thinking of how small Ludwig had been when he had gone to pay his respects to Britain’s queen and the heavy rose bushes surrounding the garden as the children played.

Britain interrupted Prussia’s musings pushing Canada forward with a nudge “I know you used to enjoy the snow Canada has begun setting up ‘ski’ retreats in his territory I heard Austria and your brother were doing the same”

Prussia took the opening “Have you been meeting with Norway then?” He asked the younger nation curiously.

Canada nodded his carefully demure but confident façade slightly shifting as Prussia got up to circle him.

“Hmm” Prussia said coming back to the front “You should talk to Finland or Russia and then Finland”

“You know that wouldn’t be wise” Britain cut in.

Prussia ignored him “Finny is built like you and has been building racing tracks with Norway I’m sure he’d have advice”

Canada nodded “Do you ski?” he asked tentatively

Prussia shrugged “it gets you places but I haven’t found it more than a useful way to get places my brother finds it ‘fun’ though”

“Oh” Canada blinked “Well we would welcome a visit once we have established it as an industry” he glanced back at Britain who gave him an improving nod.

Prussia rolled his eyes “I would enjoy that the last time I went to the America’s I was helping your brother out it would be nice to just relax” he smiled at the stiffing of Britain’s shoulders.

Canada faded a bit before coming back into focus “I look forward to it then”

With that the door creaked open and another lacky peeked in. “Sirs?”

“We will be right there” Prussia said with a nod.

“See you soon Britain, Canada” he said ushering them back to their masters.

“Likewise” Britain replied steering his colony back to their side of the table.

#prucan #ww1 fiction #writing #my writing #i love you anon

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mauerfrau · 5 years ago

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❤️ + ircnkingdom

Meme || Accepting

@ircnkingdom

Eyyyyy! :D I love this blog and the double trouble muses here. ^w^ First off, it’s super cool that they have a Brandenburg. Probably the only one I’ve ever seen, and I’ve been here for 8 years, always trying to find more German muses to follow. And I love Reiner. I really want to develop him and Lily more at some point through rp. But I absolutely adore Gil. He’s quite the unique take on Prussia, probably the only one I’ve seen. I love how he has such a big heart, and just a true love for everyone he cares for, which must be hard given some of their actions (*side eyes Lily hard*). And the mun is super sweet. I love talking hcs in the IMs when we can. ^w^ So glad we started following and rping together!

#ircnkingdom #meme #ooc meme #positivity meme #greyfaces

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miairviin · 5 years ago

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Icb liebe dich, Berlin

Happy Belated Valentine’s Day to all! Yesterday was the start of my second intra-European adventure: Berlin, Germany!

I arrived later last night and met up with a couple of my friends from Greece who had arrived earlier that day. After successfully navigating Berlin’s public transportation system, we headed to the hostel. From there, we went just a few doors down to a restaurant called Aufsturz for some authentic German food. My first meal was jägerschnitzel and Berlin truly came out swinging in regard to its culinary wonders. The jägerschnitzel was thin breaded pork with a mushroom cream sauce over a bed of German noodles. It was the perfect meal for someone who had just gotten off of an airplane.

The next day, the four other girls who came to Berlin with me woke up at 9 am for a free walking tour the hostel helped set up for us and some of its other guests. We began our tour in the city center of Mitte at the beautiful Brandenburg Gate, a place I had been looking forward to visiting since I first booked my flight. This gate has had a very long and very tumultuous past. It has come to represent a changing Berlin. The gate was one of many just like it, and they were all commissioned by the Prussian King Frederick William the II in an attempt to make Berlin “the Athens along the spree.” This explains why so there are so many elements of Greek architecture throughout the city. There have been two world wars, including Hitler’s dictatorship, bombings, battles, and political demonstrations galore. All of the other gates have since collapsed, but not the Brandenburg Gate. Though it has undergone a few alterations, the Brandenburg Gate stands tall, a symbol of pride and resilience which has come to define Berlin.

Our next stop was the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe. I knew that Berlin was a city that was rich in history, but I was not prepared for the beautiful ambiguity of this particular site. The artist who designed the memorial refused to give an explanation as to what the meaning of the 2,711 cement blocks of varying heights set up in a grid could be. In fact, the memorial takes up an entire city block downtown. That is how much importance the German government has placed on educating the world on its history. Our tour guide encouraged us to walk through and draw our own conclusions, to decide what message it was trying to send to us. As I meandered through the blocks, I felt so many different things. The blocks began short, just below my waist. There was even a humble bouquet of flowers resting on one of the first few blocks a visitor must have left. But within a few seconds, the blocks were high above my head and I could not see to my left or to my right, only forward. You were always visible from the outside of the memorial to the passing foot traffic, but in the memorial I felt anxious. Within a few minutes, I lost my group and it was just me and the seemingly endless rows of cement blocks. Though terrifying and at times frustrating, this really gave me time to consider my tour guide’s challenge to decipher the meaning for ourselves. I decided that the memorial was trying to tell us about the Jewish people during the Holocaust. Even if the lesson only lasted a few minutes and came nowhere near the intensity of the real Jewish experience. Much like the memorial’s blocks did not begin tall, the Holocaust did not happen over night. It was a gradual process of dehumanization beginning with boycotting jewish shops and ending with genocide. Though at times it felt like the Jewish struggle was invisible, it wasn’t. Other Germans knew, other countries knew, and other people knew of the atrocities being committed against the Jewish people and yet no one ventured into the grid to help. When you’re in the memorial, it’s easy to get lost, to lose your friends, to lose your bearings, to feel anxious. I cannot pretend I am able to even imagine the anxiety and fear that was felt by sisters separated from brothers, children from parents, and wives from husbands during this incredibly dark and irrationally evil time period. Our tour guide added to my analysis by saying that there was a quote describing the Holocaust as a bureaucratic duty rather than a truly insidious endeavor carried out by insidious people. Perhaps it is harder to rationalize this idea of someone being so brainwashed by their government they are willing to sentence millions to death in the name of patriotism. Either way, I felt as though it was an interesting point to include, especially in today’s growing political unrest. The memorial is just one of the many ways Berlin has refused to let its dark past define the city. Rather, history is embraced alongside the present and the two combine to form the ever changing Berlin.

Our next stop was a perfect example of how Berlin has handpicked what history it has decided to preserve and what to ignore. In a humble car park, about eight meters below our feet was the bunker where Hitler killed himself after realizing the war was lost. Just outside the bunker, children and old men fought to protect a dying Germany but not because they still believed in it; because they were literally fighting for their lives. Conversely, Hitler, who was on a wild cocktail of drugs, was busy committing suicide because he knew, like everyone else, the Germany he was fighting for was long gone. It was interesting to see the Berlin reaction to dealing with this bunker was to turn it into a functional space: a car park. Again, this is one way Berlin has selected the history they want to breathe life into and remember forever versus the history that deserves nothing from us. If not nothing, than a car park.

We continued on to places like Checkpoint Charlie, where West Berliners were eventually granted access to the East. There was a part of the Berlin Wall standing outside a cafe we stopped at. Berlin has a subtle tribute to the old wall in the form of a narrow strip of cobblestones running across the city along the same line where the Berlin Wall once stood. Another example of a memorial in plain sight are the golden stumbling stones that make appearances all over Germany. These stumbling stones became a part of Berlin when a citizen independently began installing golden plaques in between cobble stones on the sidewalk. The stones are meant to signify the last known residence of Jewish families that were taken away during the Holocaust. Each stone is engraved with a name, a year of birth, and if known and applicable, the location and year of their death. The head rabbi of Munich refused the installment of these stumbling stones. Her rationale is that people will step on them and that would be incredibly disrespectful. Our tour guide offered the interpretation that they force you to stop, and bow your head to not only to read the information on the stone, but also in reverence. It’s chilling and disorienting to think that today I was walking the same street as someone who decades ago, was being torn from a life they knew intimately and thrust into a world of terror and uncertainty. It’s impossible. Absolutely impossible.

We ended our tour, and stopped in for some more authentic German food. I dined on a sausage in curry ketchup and for dessert, apple strudel, a Berlin experience just as high on my list as the Brandenburg Gate. It was DELIGHTFUL. The cream was sweet, the apples were crisp, and the dough was soft. I know I will think of that dessert often. I can only hope I can find something like it back home when I return to the states.

We ended our night with a stroll along the East Side Gallery which displays murals commenting on social and political themes on what was once the east side of the wall. If it wasn’t for the cold, I could have spent hours walking along this open-air art gallery. Each mural had so much to say, and I felt so lucky to listen to whatever message the artist was trying to deliver. I also felt grateful they were able to share it with me. For so long, east Berlin had been subjected to communist rule where any misstep outside the party norms could mean death. Here, artists were able to express so many things from love to the disdain of racism to history to female empowerment to intersectionality to the need for environmental consciousness. The East Side Gallery had no shortage of conversation pieces or thought provoking images.

I close this entry with icb liebe dich, Berlin because there are no other words. I love you, Berlin is the only thing on my mind as I write this. The energy of the city is so youthful, so vibrant, so bold. Just like it’s food, people, architecture, and history. The energy is tangible here, racing through the streets like a pulse and heartbeat. Everyone seems to be moving, but moving towards something great importance. There’s a purpose. They’re here for a reason. I cannot wait to see what tomorrow brings in this truly mythical place.

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comicreliefmorlock · 6 years ago

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So here's a fun game. What are, let's say...10-15 pieces of media (books, tv, movies, whatever) that seem to have been made JUST for you? why?

*cracks knuckles*

Surprisingly, not all of these will be Tanith Lee.

…however…

{And this goes under a cut because this is going to be a very long, verbose post. A really long, verbose post.}

1. “Tales from the Flat Earth” by Tanith Lee

These books are essentially like sitting by a crackling fire on a cool summer night beneath the glimmering night sky while a smiling crone cards wool and tells you the stories that come from a time aeons before your birth. I have never in my life found a quartet of books–let alone one book–that have so completely and absolutely captivated me. From the first page of “Night’s Master,” I was gone.

Not only the language–breaking the fourth wall and referring to “words lost when the world reformed itself in the chaos”–but the characters… Azhrarn, the personification of Wickedness who saves humanity with love. Uhlume, the personification of Death who faces a form of mortality and is forever changed by it. Chuz, the walking embodiment of Madness, who is gentle to those under his domain and understands that he cannot understand why he does what he does.

Ferazhin and Narasen and Sivesh and Simmu and Jornadesh and Kassafeh and Zhirem and Azhriaz and Dunziel… Names I have never forgotten because they all but sang to me. A flat earth that holds the best and worst of humanity, often balled into a single person, with Underearth and Innerearth and Upperearth holding gods that have grown so distant they no longer recall humans were their creation at all.

I have always loved mythology and these books? These are myth.

2. Pan’s Labyrinth -dir. by Guillermo del Toro

I’m not from Spain or know Spanish. I knew nothing about the Spanish Civil War when I first saw this movie. And this was the first film I saw that cemented del Toro for me as the only man I would ever trust to turn Tanith Lee’s books into cinema.

I love fairy tales, mythology and folklore. And when you read enough of it, you see how bloody it actually is. How terrifying it is to realize that you’re not the only one in the world, humans aren’t the only ones, there are creatures on the midnight side of reality that share space with you.

And I never really liked the Disney version of fairy tales with “happily ever after” and weddings.

This movie was literally like watching something I’d imagined for myself. The acting was fucking phenomenal, the sets and costumes were off the hook and the comparison of “fairy tale horror” and “real horror” that overlapped just blew me the hell away.

And Doug Jones… Doug Fucking Jones. I never respected mimes until him and now I give all the respect. Being able to act, to breathe real life into a concept and a costume until it becomes a character you could picture walking through a forest or peering around a corner while not being able to use your own voice OR your own facial expressions is a kind of magic I think does not get enough appreciation.

DOUG FUCKING JONES, LADIES, GENTS AND GENDER REBELS.

3. Fatal Frame - Tecmo

I’m a writer/reader, not a gamer. When I have downtime or I want to relax, I almost always gravitate towards a book instead of a video game. The few games I’ve played purely for my own enjoyment have usually been MMOs and involve roleplaying.

Except for the Fatal Frame series.

Survival horror is my favorite game genre and I lamented when Resident Evil became more “survival action” than survival horror. (Fuckin’ lickers in the original Resident Evil game oh my god.) I wanted a survival horror game that had some meat to it, had something really compelling about it.

And I found Fatal Frame.

I love Japanese mythology. I especially love Japanese ghosts. For some reason–maybe out of sheer novelty because I, being an ignorant American raised near the US-Mexico border, have had little exposure to it–Japanese ghosts are my absolute favorites. Yurei (and the other subclassifications) just have something to them that I haven’t found in other mythologies. I’ve read and reread Oiwa and Okiku’s stories, been fascinated by the concept of the Hyakumonogatari Kaidankai and wanted more of what I found.

Which Fatal Frame provided.

Not only do the game mechanics work beautifully for someone as easily startled as I am, but the story behind each individual game is achingly intense. The intricacy of the interwoven histories, the rituals, the underlying question of “was all this really necessary or was this a priesthood trying to stay in power”… I love absolutely everything about these games.

4. “The Blue Sword” by Robin McKinley

I’m not going to lie–this book took me forever to actually read. The first two pages were so achingly boring that I had no fucking clue why my mother had recommended it to me.

And then one day, bereft of anything else to read, I flipped through it. I still distinctly remember the line that made me stop and go “wait, what?” – “…your horse tells me where you’ve been…”

me: wait what horses can talk in this? wtf? *flips to the beginning and sits down to fuckin’ read it*

Slogging through those first few pages? Worth it. Because Harry/Hari/Harimad was the first heroine I’d ever encountered that I could imagine myself being. She was too gangly and not particularly pretty and kind of clumsy. She didn’t draw admiring eyes everywhere she went, spent a lot of time going ‘I can’t do this wtf’ and had aches and saddlesores.

Meeting Harry felt like seeing myself on a page for the first time in my life. And seeing someone with flaws like me going through adventure and fighting and succeeding and failing and getting a happily ever after felt like a warm blanket. Like someone had written a book just to tell me: “It’s okay that you’re not beautiful or graceful or soft-spoken and elegant. It’s okay that you’re clumsy and a goof and your hair is fuzzy as fuck because you can be a heroine, too.”

5. “Whoever Fights Monsters” by Robert K. Ressler

No, I’m not a serial killer. :D Nor am I an FBI profiler.

However, after reading “The Silence of the Lambs” by Thomas Harris for the first time in ninth grade, I was fascinated by serial killers. Like… how did they do it? How did they get away with it? WHY did they do it? What kind of person did things like this? I wanted to know so much more and I started grabbing every book on serial killers that I possibly could find.

And the reaction of classmates and teachers who saw my reading material was… less than stellar. Even my mother was vaguely worried about what I was getting out of reading all…that.

It felt like my fascination with serial killer psychology was a flaw in my character that no one else seemed to share. Until I read “Whoever Fights Monsters” and saw Robert K. Ressler talking about the exact same thing. He wasn’t a “sicko” or a “freak” or a “lunatic” or a “killer-in-training” for being fascinated by the psychology of humans who could treat other humans like a moment’s disposable entertainment.

And suddenly, neither was I.

6. American Horror Story: Hotel - FX

‘American Horror Story’ is entirely my thing. Interwoven narratives of fascinating (and often awful) people combining “American horror history” with interpersonal storylines? Yes, thank you, I’ll take a dozen.

This season in particular, however, is just more for me than any other.

Maybe it’s the vampires that are self-obsessed and not particularly powerful but end up with petty grudges and complaints. Or the ghosts that bitch and whine at each other, find consolation together, use Twitter and spend their long, long days doing little more than drinking, smoking and obsessing over their lives and deaths. Maybe it’s the single location with so many years of history weaving together like a book of short stories.

I love ‘Hotel’ because it feels like Brandenburg to me. I could so easily see the entire season taking place in my fictional city and mentally insert my own characters into the show without losing a single step.

Also Kathy Bates is absolutely glorious and I desperately wish to be a tenth as glamorous as Liz Taylor.

7. “The Butterfly Garden” by Dot Hutchinson

Books about serial killers? Yes, please.

Books about serial killers told by a victim who barely survived and understands what trauma really means? Yes, please.

What especially got me about this book is my thing for dioramas. The first one I ever remember seeing was in the El Paso Museum of Archaeology (yes, I’m from El Paso, Texas) and it always both frightened and fascinated me.

^ This one in particular would keep me motionless for ten or twenty minutes at a time, kind of terrified at a house within a building and then absolutely enthralled at a house inside a building.

And the dioramas mentioned in “The Butterfly Garden” were akin to those in “The Cell” –some terrible, awful glimpse into someone’s mind that was visualized and externalized in a permanent way.

8. “War for the Oaks” by Emma Bull

I love the fae.

And I also have read enough to know that those sprightly little fucks are terrifying and humans are rarely left unscathed by them.

This book was my introduction to “urban fantasy,” much as Charles de Lint was my introduction to what I consider “mythic fantasy” and a city that felt so much like my own.

And what was so quintessentially, absolutely me about this book–other than the main love interest being the Phouka :D :D :D–was the underlying theme about creativity.

It’s a driving force, a magic that humans have. It’s uniquely human (as far as we know) and often the only talisman against the dark that we’ve got. With creativity, there’s magic. There’s a spark of something beyond the mundane realities of survival. Creativity is a sword and shield all in one, complete with a lure to bring others along with you.

Whether it’s through music, art, poetry or graphic design, creativity is the actual drive for immortality that pushes us to reach beyond ourselves and touch those we have no possibility of seeing or speaking to in our own short, real lives.

9. Good Omens - Neil Gaiman/BBC

I loved the book when it came out. I didn’t expect to love the mini-series. I especially didn’t expect to love the mini-series for the #IneffableHusbands.

I won’t belabor the point about why this is on my list. The #IneffableHusbands tag on my OOC blog is enough. :D

10. What We Do in the Shadows - Jemaine Clement, Taika Waititi

Vampires who are as absurd, incapable and oblivious as me? Yes. All of my yes.

Having played the old World of Darkness tabletop games for years--and absolutely fallen in love with them--I found this movie and was in absolute heaven. These are vampires I can actually imagine hanging out with. These are vampires (and werewolves) I can envision walking around a city.

Noble creatures of the night don’t seem real to me (aside from the obvious reasons.) The supernaturals in this movie? They felt like people I knew. Like people I could meet or characters I’d written myself.

I like the fantastical being put into the mundane--which is why my genre is ‘urban fantasy’ although I have such an eye-twitch about it being all supernatural detectives chasing various pieces of ass now--and I especially love it when the fantastical doesn’t outweigh the mundane.

Imagining vampires vacuuming and riding the bus fits in nicely with my desperate belief (and hope) that the fantastical isn’t JUST imaginary but actually exists.

{And there, I’m restricting this to 10 or we’ll be here all NIGHT.}

#Asks #Writing is life #Books are life #Here are Angel's specific likes and dislikes #as shown through visual aid

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trainthief · 6 years ago

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Hey I was wondering if you'd ever consider doing like a top 20 fav classical music albums or composers list or something. Obviously if that just sounds stressful disregard this but I know you are like, into classical music & I grew up with my parents playing it & recently got, like, into the classical station but aside from like 3 artists I like I don't know where to start & I like your blog and would be interested in hearing about like, your taste

Sorry for responding to this so late, I’ve had a real week and I wanted to make sure I had time to put some thought into answering this ask. I’d definitely love to help, I always like recc’ing classical stuff to people! The idea of 20 absolute all time favorites is a difficult one for me because I love so much stuff and it’s really difficult to compare like… Caroline Shaw’s modern experimental chorale stuff to Bach’s Brandenburg Concertos. Anyway, instead I will give you some full length pieces in different styles that I think are great for new listeners, and explain a little about what each one is doing and what I love about it, and some more pieces I recommend if you enjoy what you’re hearing. Hopefully that will help!

In no particular order:

Appalachian Spring by Copland: Let’s just get this one out of the way up front. If you’ve been following me for any amount of time at all, you know I’m deeply in love with Copland. He essentially invented the American compositional style by adding jazz elements to the established practices, which caused an absolute uproar at the beginning of his career as people then considered it an unholy mix of high and low culture. He doubled down on this concept when he wrote “Fanfare For The Common Man” which essentially stands as a celebration of the working class and those who couldn’t afford to see the symphony anyway. He was, I should also note, both gay and Jewish. A real icon. Anyhow, although I love so much of his work and could go on forever, I consider listening to Appalachian Spring in its entirety a spiritual experience, no exaggeration. Take it on a hike, listen to it while you look at the trees and think about whatever crosses your mind, and by the time the Coda hits you… well I personally can’t tell you what experience to have, but I feel for a second like I can see and be seen. Anyway, aside from that, just good music, very pretty. If you’d like similar music that incorporated jazz effectively into classical work, I’d of course recommend another favorite of mine: Rhapsody in Blue by Gershwin.

Russian Easter Festival by Rimsky-Korsakov: As a general rule of thumb, Russian composers are ALWAYS good for some drama. This piece in particular is great because it’s not only fanfare and excitement, there’s a touch of pastoral calmness that I really love (more on that as a concept later) at the beginning, but we still get plenty of wildness. There’s a frantic octave part the violins play around minute 5 that always makes me want to scream. If you like this, I’d also recommend checking out Rimsky-Korsakov’s Capriccio Espagnol. The man knows how to write sexy.

Romance in D by Berkey: I recommend this partially because it’s a lesser known and very beautiful piece, and also because it’s a good lead-in to a whole subset of classical called Furniture Music. Essentially called that - originally by the composer Satie - because it’s nice to put on in the background. Don’t get me wrong, it’s still fun to listen to, and from a compositional and performance standpoint it can still be very impressive. But it’s just good and calming and you could certainly sip tea to it in the restaurant area of a ritzy 1920’s hotel while you read a novel and ignore your rich husband asking if you’d like any marmalade. A good example of the same effect is the soundtrack to Phantom Thread. It’s also good for studying. If you like that conceptually, I’ve got a whole playlist here.

Pictures at an Exhibition by Mussorgsky: A really excellent intro to classical and one of my favorite works, AND like the last one, also a lead-in to an informal format. Pictures was written with the idea that each song was a separate painting that the listener could imagine they were looking at in a museum. For that reason, each one has a different style and personality, and feels very descriptive and exciting. A collection of small related pieces is called a suite, but I haven’t yet been able to find a technical name for that specific kind of storytelling structure within a suite. It’s not uncommon though, and in that same vein I’d also recommend The Planets by Holst (about the planets, as you might assume), and Carnival of the Animals by Saint Saens (about… yeah you get it).

Spem in Alium by Tallis: We’re taking a wild left turn now and veering into the Christian choral tradition dating back to the 1500s. Like anyone else who isn’t even a Christian, there’s a few things about Catholicism that I’m obsessed with. Namely the hymns and the stained glass. Focusing only on the hymns, Tallis is one of the best examples of polyphonic hymnal work. Polyphonic, essentially, means that the different voices in the piece are moving around each other and will frequently change their notes in a way that will compliment - but is not necessarily in line with - the direction of the piece as a whole. It makes more sense if you just listen. The style, however, was developed in an attempt to capture the idea of the stars and planets circling each other in their own independent orbits, because at the time people had just started to turn their gaze to the sky for answers about their own lives. Aside from that very cool background, I just find the really human side of the choir format in particular paired with the elevation of music being this untouchable but powerful thing paired with the holiness of the concept paired with how awesome the acoustics of a chapel can be…. It’s just a lot. If you like this I’d also recommend Miserere Mei by Allegri, Ave Maris Stella by Dufay, and O Magnum Mysterium by Lauridsen

Peter Grimes by Britten: Classical music is so rooted in every musical tradition, and visa versa, that it’s almost impossible to separate it conceptually from a lot of genres. Technically, “classical” refers to a period of time more than it does a genre anyway, but let’s not get pretentious about it. While we’re pushing the boundaries of what can and can’t be included in this list, let’s talk Opera, and specifically Peter Grimes. When asked to describe it, Britten said it was “a subject very close to my heart—the struggle of the individual against the masses. The more vicious the society, the more vicious the individual.” More specifically the struggle was an allegory for gay oppression, and ironically Britten wrote the lead role with his lifelong partner Peter Pears - an opera singer - in mind. To give a taste without giving too much away, the Prologue establishes that Grimes, a fisherman, is being questioned over the death of his apprentice. The townspeople are all convinced before the questioning even begins that he must have done it, but the coroner decides the death was accidental. Grimes is let free and advised not to get another apprentice, but he of course ignores this…. If the vocal side of opera doesn’t do it for you, there are 4 Sea Interludes from this work that are really great independently. If you want even more opera with even more drama, I’d recommend looking at Tosca or Turandot both by Pucccini. If you think classic opera is too high brow and you want something a little sillier, try Mozart’s Magic Flute. If you want something more new age and weird, try listening to Two Boys by Muhly or selections from Einstein on the Beach by Glass (but probably not all 5 hours, Knee Play 5 and Spaceship would be my top 2).

Symphony No. 6 “Pastoral” by Beethoven: I mentioned earlier when describing the Russian Easter Festival that I love a piece with pastoral calmness. Getting back to that point, I haven’t ever seen one word that’s commonly used to describe this particular sense in a piece, but I personally call it a Pastoral after Beethoven’s 6th. In general, the symphony is one of my favorites as a composer and listener, especially given that it’s really just about taking a walk in nature which is one of only 3 themes music should have anyway in my opinion. A good amount of my music is written with this feeling in mind. Aside from all that context, the first movement in particular is very nice, passionate but not sensational, and is just about being excited to be outside. Nothing wrong with that. This subset of music is probably the most informal of all the ones I’ve listed so far, but if you’d like more “Pastorals,” or pieces that have a nice calm passion to them, I’d also highly recommend Enigma Variations: Nimrod by Elgar, Fantasia on a Theme of Tallis by Vaughan Williams, Once Upon A Time In America by Morricone, Musica Celestis by Kernis, and of course again Appalachian Spring by Copland. (I would also be legally sent to jail if I didn’t mention that while we’re on the subject of Beethoven, his 9th Symphony is generally considered one of the greatest achievements in classical music).

Rite of Spring by Stravinsky: A lot of these pieces have been good jumping off points into different musical concepts, but with this one I’m sticking my description to the initial piece itself. I got the chance to email with a composer I admire and he at one point described composition not in the sense of writing something “smart”, but in writing something “detailed”. The Rite of Spring is a really great example of detailed composition. It’s extremely experimental with its time changes - essentially the way that you should be counting your notes as a musician constantly changes and always into a pattern that’s difficult to keep track of - and also with its chord structure. The music itself can be jarring and odd to listen to but the composition wasn’t random and when studied shows an obsessive elbows-deep involvement in the work that I really admire. It might not surprise you to hear, however, that at the initial performance the audience was so furious that the lighting technician had to continually flash the lights to confuse them, out of fear of a riot. If you’d like something a bit more fun to listen to by the same composer, however, Firebird is a good one. And if you’d like another great piece that was completely booed off the stage at its premier, I’d recommend Grand Pianola by Adams.

Romeo and Juliet by Prokofiev: While we’re in the general vicinity of ballet, I should get into that deeper. Ballets can have some of the most fun music to listen to because the timing is required to be so much more specific. Romeo and Juliet is a lot of fun, particularly the “Montagues and Capulets” and “Masks” sections. Another great ballet is, of course, The Nutcracker by Tchaikovsky. I’d also recommend Don Quixote by Minkus, and Rodeo by Copland…. I know I know

Violin Concerto in D by Tchaikovsky: I said Russians bring the drama, and it’s doubly so when it’s a gay Russian. This piece is a classic example of the solo concerto format, which is a staple of classical as a whole. The setup is a single player on whatever instrument the piece is written for accompanied by an orchestra, and is usually a showcase of technical skill by the soloist. This one in particular is basically THE turning point in a violinist’s studies and just about every violinist learns it as soon as they’re capable of taking it on. Personally I still vividly remember when my teacher finally gave it to me, it’s a very specific sense of accomplishment. Similar examples of the solo concerto format on different instruments would be Piano Concerto in F by Rachmaninoff, and Oboe Concerto in C by Mozart, both of which I absolutely love.

The Revd Mustard His Installation Prelude by Muhly: I’ve gone on forever so I’m trying to be quick. Nico Muhly is one of my favorite modern composers and Revd Mustard combines his classic ecstatic and constantly moving style with an organ, which I’m a sucker for. Contemporary classical in his style can be difficult to listen to because it’s gotten very experimental and as a result, very complicated. But if you don’t go into it with the expectation that you’re going to hear a structured and logical Mozart-like piece and you instead surrender your opinion until the whole thing has come together for you, it can be really interesting at the very least. As a side note, Nico has collaborated with Sufjan, Bjork, Jonsi, Teitur…. lots of people. You’ve certainly heard him before even if you didn’t know it. For more classical from the last few decades I’d recommend Partita for 8 Singers by Shaw, Tissue No. 7 by Glass, Different Trains by Reich, the Red Violin Concerto by Corigliano (especially because I just saw it live a few days ago and am still reeling), Perpetuum Mobile by Penguin Cafe Orchestra, and Cantus in Memoriam Benjamin Britten by Part. Each of which is vastly different, stylistically speaking, but all of which I really love. And for more organ listen to one of my favorite pieces of all time, Symphony 3 by Saint Saens.

Ok, you know what? I’m cutting myself off because I’ve gone on forever. If you haven’t been put off of asking me questions entirely by now, please feel free if you want even more recommendations in a specific style, or want to know more about something you enjoy. Clearly I love talking about this. Hope that helped!

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littlebookreader · 3 years ago

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Lunae lumen ipsum

This has two parts: Information and the fic itself. For slightly easier accessibility, I will put both in this post itself.

Some information first:

Summary: Olwin Keller receives a distress call, mush to Margaret’s chagrin. (For the Wednesday prompt ‘Favourite Relationship’ of the Victoriocity Appreciation Week 2021. Takes place a week after ‘SMS Brandenburg’, a day after Ego ne hic quidem.)

Fandoms: Victoriocity(Podcast)

Rating: Teen and Above Audiences

Relationships: F/M, Gen

Word count: 666 words(yes, I know)

Characters: Chief Inspector Olwin Keller/ Margaret Keller, Chief Inspector Olwin Keller, Margaret Keller, Mrs. Pomligan, Timmy Keller, Inspector Archibald Fleet(mentioned).

Additional Tags: Domestic, established relationship, realistically married couple, absolutely adore these two, ghosts aren’t real(are they?), crack treated seriously as crack, can’t really think of much else, author regrets everything, no beta we shout like Mrs. Pomligan, here you go

@victoriocity-appreciation for the Favourite Relationship.

Part 4 of Love, Actually.

This was the information. For the rest of the fic, it’s all under the cut.

Fic:

A locution glass can be a powerful, useful thing, carrying all sorts of messages across while loosely maintaining your facial features, helping to convey the expression of the message. Right then, the Kellers only saw them as a menace, ruining their night’s sleep, which was, already, a rare occurrence.

“Olwin, could you please turn it off?”

“Can’t, Margaret, duty calls.”

“And what about your family?”

“Oh, again with this? I told you-”

As one might expect, the late-night calls grew both in length and in frequency, mostly civilians calling in to claim they’d found a member of the spy network loitering around nearby or ‘watching them’, whatever the hell that was supposed to mean.

The latest one reported a sighting near the coffeehouse, by the owner herself, Mrs. Pomligan, who for whatever godforsaken reason, insisted on staying up the whole night. Well, it wasn’t that he COULDN’t tell what her reasons were, though keeping awake to ‘look for ghosts loitering about near the place that poor man was killed’ wasn’t exactly what he would call ‘a plausible statement’.

“I’ve seen ‘im again, Inspector, and you KNOW that he’s real.”

Keller could tell that Margaret had had just about enough of all this and snarked, “That’s what coffee does to you brain, it does.”

“Could be the stale ‘Archie buns’ they serve too, who knows?” He muttered.

“I will have you know, good sir, my buns are NOT stale!”

He sighed. “Couldn’t you just report your observations to the nearest available constabulary?”

“Inspector-“

“That’s CHIEF Inspector to you, Mrs. Pomligan-“

In the pale, not-quite-accurate image of the glass, it’s looked like she was dismissing it. Keller shrugged, it could just as easily have been a trick of the light. “Right, right. Could you please look into it? He’s scaring off my customers, and you know how much they love my coffee, the poor dears.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, while Margaret remarked: “I’m sure it isn’t the spectre that’s scaring them off, Mrs. Pomligan.”

Keller respected few people, and feared even fewer. Mrs. Pomligan, to no one’s surprise, fell in the latter category, with her booming voice and sudden exclamations. Part of him just wanted to run away screeching like a little girl, and hide under the covers, though whether it was to protect his ear drums, or his dignity, he wasn’t quite sure.

“Very well, but does it have to be done NOW?”

The face in the mercury faltered. “Well, no….But it would be appreciated if you could. There was also something else, though I think little Archie would want to tell you about it.”

“Come morning, I mean, when the sun rises, I mean, I will send my best to look into it.”

“Thank you, Inspector!” With that, the liquid settled back into its traditionally inert stance, while Margaret mimicked. “Thank you, inspector, you know how much they love my coffee, inspector. Ugh, doesn’t she realise the stuff is inedible?”

Keller stood by, lost in thought as his wife rambled. Something else? Ask Fleet about it? Why would she say THAT in the end? Margaret seemed to notice this, as she joked, “I know my impressions aren’t the best, Olwin, but surely they’d get a laugh?”

“You’re absolutely right, dear,” he muttered, still lost in his reverie. What happened at that coffeehouse?

“Olwin, is something the matter?”

“Yes, yes, I’m sorry, it’s just something she said.”

“Ah, yes, about Fleet. You should talk to him, try to find out exactly what she was insinuating.”

“Margaret-”

“But not now. Now, just go back to sleep. Whatever it is, I’m sure it can wait.”

Despite his general mood and growing desire to get back to sleep, Keller knew that it couldn’t be further from the truth. They walked back to their bedroom, only stopping by Timmy’s room once, only to find him sleeping there peacefully.

They smiled at each other, briefly forgetting all their concerns. After all, whatever it was could wait till morning.

Couldn’t it?

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sarahtaylortraveladventures · 6 years ago

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Week 12 (March 25 - April 2)

Gutentag!

This blog post is the week my mom was here in Berlin after Munich (last Monday - Friday) and then a long weekend (Friday night - Tuesday) with her in Vienna! We had the longer break because our classes/internship period switched, so I have another 6 weeks in Berlin and 12 have past. Crazy!!!!

I had the most fun showing my mom around Berlin. She stayed in an airbnb in the neighborhood I live in, so I got to take her to all my favorite spots.

On Monday, I unfortunately had my internship during the day, so we couldn’t do a lot of sightseeing. But I did get to have lunch with her - we met at one of my favorite spots. It’s been featured in the blog before so I didn’t take a picture. After work, we had dinner at an Italian place. I don’t think I took a picture because I was so hungry!

On Tuesday, we had breakfast at my favorite cafe where I write most of my blogs!

That day we also went to the main area in Berlin and walked around. We had beautiful weather! We also went to the Alte National Gallery, which has a lot of Impressionist paintings so I wanted to take my mom there. It was a beautiful building, too!

I took this outside the museum - I love seeing the trees starting to bloom in Berlin!!

These are from the museum:

We also went to an area called Kurfurstendam, which has a lot of stores and shopping. I took my mom to the Christmas store since she couldn’t see a German Christmas Market.

On Wednesday, I took the day off from my internship so we could do more exploring! We started the day off at the Brandenburg Gate. And then we walked around the main part of Berlin a little.

Next, we went to the Berliner Dom, which is the big church in Berlin. I think it’s so cool and I’m so glad I got to show my mom!

The view from the top:

Afterwards, we walked over to the Berlin Wall. For some reason I didn’t take a picture this time, but I do have pictures of it in my first blog post! Afterwards we went to Sheer’s Schnitzel, which I think has the best in Berlin so I obviously had to take my mom!

After that, I had to go to a class for my program. For dinner, my mom took some of my friends from my program out to dinner. I’m so happy she got to meet them and we had a great time together!

On Thursday I had my internship again so we couldn’t do much together during the day, but we did go to a cute coffeeshop near my mom’s airbnb!

Vienna, Austria

We left for Vienna later on Friday because we were waiting for my passport to come back from the Embassy with my residence permit, so we explored my neighborhood in Berlin a little! We went to a couple cute stores and got sandwiches from a local bakery.

This is a picture from the plane because we flew out during sunset!

We got to Vienna late at night, but our Airbnb was very nice and we had dinner at a really cool local restaurant.

On Saturday morning, we went to the Naschmarkt, which is a huge outdoor market a street over from our airbnb. There were outdoor cafes, vendors with all kinds of fresh foods, and even a flea market!

We also saw this gorgeous building with flowers painted on the sides.

Next, we walked around Vienna. It was an absolutely beautiful day!

We found the Hofburg Palace, which is huge and all the carriages walk in front of it!

Afterwards, we went to the Kunsthistorisches Museum, an art museum in Vienna. I was so excited because they happened to be showing an exhibit on one of my favorite artists (Mark Rothko) and we got to see it! It was so cool! The buildings around the area were also beautiful.

We had a little lunch in the cafe in the museum, which had a gorgeous ceiling!!

The inside is also really pretty!

These are some of Rothko’s pieces. I know they aren’t for everyone, but these actually have a really cool story behind them. They were supposed to be a part of a commission for The Four Seasons hotel in NYC, but when Rothko visited the restaurant where they were going to be hung, he thought it was too stuffy and pretentious so he donated them to the Tate in London because he thought the public should be able to experience them.

Next we walked around more and saw St. Stephen’s Cathedral, which is in the last photo.

Afterwards, we found a really cool park. We went toa little cart selling drinks and enjoyed one by the lake! It was the perfect end to the day.

For dinner that night, our airbnb hosts recommended a Mexican restaurant. We were a little skeptical about going to a Mexican place in Austria, but one can only eat so much schnitzel. It ended up being delicious!

On Sunday, we went to the Belvedere museum. I was so so excited! The museum is in the Belvedere Palace, which was beautiful too!

Gustav Klimt is from Austria, so his famous painting The Kiss is in this museum. There are also a lot of other great works by him and other artists!

The inside of the museum is also beautiful and there were great views of the garden from upstairs.

After, we found a really cool street of colorful buildings where we had lunch.

We walked around Vienna more. It was such a beautiful day!

Next, we went to the Austrian National Library. It was really beautiful

That afternoon, we also went to this cool rooftop restaurant and did a tasting of some Austrian wines.

For dinner that night, we found a really cool restaurant and got to sit outside for dinner!

On Monday, we went back to the market and got breakfast. It was so good!

Next, we went to the Albertina Museum. It was also gorgeous on the inside.

This was the view from outside the museum. We couldn’t get over how beautiful all the architecture was in Vienna!

Afterwards we got some gelato too! Yum!

That afternoon, we went to Schönbrunn Palace. We took a little train around the gardens that stopped at the top of a hill where you could see the palace and gardens below. There was also a cool little building at the top.

We also watched a presentation where they showed us how to make strudel! It was so cool and at the end they gave us the recipe. I don't know that I’ll take the time to make it, but they even gave us a “strudel hotline” to call if we can’t figure it out :)

After, we went to this passageway where there are a bunch of shops. It was really beautiful.

For dinner, we went to an Asian restaurant. Again, wouldn’t have thought Asian food would be do good in Austria but is was delicious!!

On Tuesday morning, we took a carriage ride around Vienna! I love carriage rides and it was so cool to see more sights in Vienna!!

The horses wear cute little hats on their ears to block out the street noise :)

Afterwards we went to the airport and went back to Berlin. My mom stayed in a hotel for the night and then flew out early Wednesday.

We had so so so much fun in Vienna! It was one of my favorite cities I’ve visited so far and I’m so glad I got to be there with my mom.

Miss you!!

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maddie-grove · 6 years ago

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Bi-Monthly Reading Round-Up: November/December

Playlist

“When I’m Gone” by Brenda Holloway (Gone Girl)

“I Will Always Love You” by Whitney Houston (At the Queen’s Summons)

“Doctor My Eyes” by Jackson Browne (The Ask and the Answer)

“I Can Love You Better” by the Dixie Chicks (Sun and Moon, Ice and Snow)

“The Bad Touch” by Bloodhound Gang (Storm)

“Suspicion” by Terry Stafford (Trapped at the Altar)

“Smokey Places” by the Corsairs (The Diamond Slipper)

“You’re My Best Friend” by Queen (Someone to Trust)

“Praying” by Kesha (The Hostage)

“Castle Rock” by Barnaby Bright (Bledding Sorrow)

“The Circle of Life” from The Lion King (Monsters of Men)

“Disturbia” by Rihanna (I’ll Be Gone in the Dark)

“It’s All in the Game” by Tommy Edwards (Doomed Queen Anne)

“Locking Up My Heart” by the Marvelettes (Beware, Princess Elizabeth)

Best of the Bi-Month

The Hostage by Susan Wiggs (2000): In the chaos of the Great Chicago Fire of 1871, backwoods trader Tom Silver kidnaps heiress Deborah Sinclair, hoping to make her industrialist father compensate the victims of his greed and negligence. Nothing goes according to plan, however, and these two people who should be enemies become anything but. I absolutely loved this book; the combination of slow-burn romance and action-packed non-romantic plot was perfect, and Deborah’s arc is just beautiful.

Worst of the Bi-Month

Bledding Sorrow by Marilyn Harris (1976): The cash-strapped heir of an ancient Yorkshire estate, his improperly medicated American wife, and a working-class coach driver are forced to reenact a Tudor-era tragedy, because of...reasons, I guess. I wasn’t too disappointed when I realized that this was Gothic horror instead of Gothic romance--I like scary stories, too--but this isn’t so much a novel as a long parade of pointlessly dismaying incidents. The characters are generally powerless to avoid their fates and, what’s more, they don’t have the opportunity or inclination to struggle very hard. Their helplessness might work if there were a compelling explanation for it, but Harris only makes a few vague suggestions (i.e., “Reincarnation?” or “House evil?”). Also, one of the supporting characters is such an egregiously offensive gay stereotype that he would probably make Jack Chick exclaim, “Whoa, tone it down!” The style was decent, though, and I had a few good laughs along the way.

Rest of the Bi-Month

I’ll Be Gone in the Dark by Michelle McNamara (2018): In this posthumously published true-crime book, McNamara details a series of burglaries, rapes, and murders that plagued Sacramento and Southern California during the 1970s-1980s, believed by her and many others to be the work of one man, dubbed the Golden State Killer. McNamara does a wonderful job capturing the strange false tranquility of Californian suburbia circa 1980, and she presents the (often convoluted) facts clearly but never salaciously. The good taste and empathy of her style kind of undercuts any passages along the lines of “perhaps researching serial killers is deeply unsavory,” but that was my only issue with the book.

The Ask and the Answer by Patrick Ness (2009): In the first sequel to The Knife of Never Letting Go, young Todd Hewitt, having left behind the world he knew forever, deals with increasingly morally complex and traumatic situations. Meanwhile, his new friend, [redacted], wrestles with similarly thorny and upsetting issues. This is a worthy sequel to one of my favorite books I read this year. I missed the road narrative of the first installment, but the complicated ethical dilemmas and the ever-switching power dynamics very nearly made up for its loss.

Monsters of Men by Patrick Ness (2010): In the final book of Ness’s trilogy, [redacted]. This was the weakest installment, but only because of some fairly minor structural issues, such as some initial narrative choppiness, that I probably wouldn’t have noticed if the first two books hadn’t been so well-structured as well as thematically fascinating. The payoff is pretty fantastic, in any event. Also, Todd’s whole...thing with the Mayor is one of the most gloriously weird, fascinating relationships I’ve seen in a YA novel.

Someone to Trust by Mary Balogh (2018): In Regency England, twenty-six-year-old Lord Hodges decides to do the proper thing and get himself wed; however, his narcissistic mother, not content with the significant emotional damage she’s dealt him over the years, keeps interfering with his search because she’s worried he’ll marry someone who’s not hot enough by her standards. Meanwhile, his thirty-five-year-old BFF, Lady Overfield, has resolved to accept the suit of a staid but pleasant acquaintance...but something just doesn’t feel right. You know what does feel right, though? Waltzing and talking about deep shit with Lord Hodges...and the feeling is mutual!!! This isn’t the most action-packed romance, but it’s super-cute and I was 1000% sold on Lady Overfield’s subtle awesomeness.

Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn (2012): Unhappily married and resignedly living in his Missouri hometown, Nick Dunne suddenly finds himself as the prime suspect in his wife’s disappearance and apparent murder. What the fuck is going on? I spent like five years of my life debating with myself whether to read this book, and I’m glad I did (long after its relevancy had peaked, of course). It’s easily the weakest of Flynn’s three novels--its sense of place isn’t as strong as Sharp Objects or Dark Places, although I understand that’s somewhat intentional, and neither main character works as a representation of an actual person--but it’s a propulsive read and it’s pretty damn funny.

The Diamond Slipper by Jane Feather (1997): Lady Cordelia Brandenburg travels with her BFF, a teenage Marie Antoinette, so they can get hitched to the Austrian ambassador to France and the Dauphin, respectively. Two problems: Cordelia’s new husband is a fucking monster, and she’s fallen in love with the grieving brother of the husband’s mysteriously dead first wife. This novel probably isn’t to everyone’s taste; it kind of zigzags between a semi-cutesy fairy-tale feel and depictions of horrific abuse, and the effect is somewhat jarring. I enjoyed its use of historical details, though, and I liked the heroine a lot.

Beware, Princess Elizabeth by Carolyn Meyer (2002): In this historical YA novel, Elizabeth I narrates several incidents in her life from cradle to throne, focusing on all the times that her half-sister Mary came super-close to having her executed. Although I found the structure of the novel somewhat choppy, I really liked the portrayal of Elizabeth’s complicated relationships with her pious, increasingly suspicious half-siblings, plus the plot had plenty of action.

Doomed Queen Anne by Carolyn Meyer (2001): In another installment of Meyer’s Young Royals series, Anne Boleyn explains her journey from awkward child to unconventional, controversial courtier to VICTIM OF TOTAL RAILROADING. This novel was even choppier than Beware, Princess Elizabeth, mostly because Elizabeth’s story is better-suited to the episodic plot structure, but I have to say I love this portrayal of Anne Boleyn as much as (if not more than) I did at twelve. Her motivations aren’t high-minded or altruistic, but she’s got feelings, damn it, and she has a right to fight against being treated like shit! Also, Meyer gives her a sixth finger on one hand, which was probably not the case historically, but it’s cool that Anne is portrayed sympathetically while also having a body that’s stigmatized by society.

Trapped at the Altar by Jane Feather (2014): In the early 1680s, Catholic Lady Ariadne Daunt and Protestant Sir Ivor Chalfont live in Daunt Valley, a makeshift community of loosely related lawless aristocrats who lost their lands in the English Civil War. Ariadne and Ivor are force to wed by the community “elders,” who hope to send them to the royal court as a religiously flexible power couple. This already-tense situation is made more awkward by the fact that Ariadne is in love with another man, while Ivor is in love with Ariadne. This novel is part of a small subset of romances that would be better as historical fiction. I loved the unique (albeit nightmarish) setting of Daunt Valley, the exciting journey to London, and the well-portrayed court intrigue. I even quite liked Ariadne. However, Ivor was such a shit. Ariadne is upfront with him about her love for another, but, because Ivor “loves” her, he acts like she’s morally obligated to go along with the whole thing. He never really forgives her for not being a virgin on their wedding night, and his reaction when he finds out she’s been using birth control is bloodcurdling. Also, Feather throws away an interesting dynamic where Ariadne has genuine feelings for two complex men in favor of making Ivor’s rival a creepy stalker (but also an embarrassingly ineffectual sissy).

Sun and Moon, Ice and Snow by Jessica Day George (2008): A nameless Norwegian girl who can talk to animals agrees to live with an enchanted polar bear for one year in exchange for her family’s deliverance from poverty, secretly hoping to find the answer to her beloved brother’s sadness as well. She finds herself way in over her head, though, with a curse that goes back centuries or longer. I enjoyed this retelling of “East of the Sun, West of the Moon,” and I thought a lot of the concepts were really clever (hint: this is neither the first girl nor the first polar bear). In execution, though, I didn’t like it as much as Edith Pattou’s retelling, East, which has a stronger sense of place and better-developed minor characters.

Storm by Donna Jo Napoli (2014): Sebah, a sixteen-year-old Canaanite girl, loses her home, her family, and her entire way of life in a sudden deluge that drowns the whole world...almost. After weeks of surviving in trees and on rafts, she manages to stow away on Noah’s Ark, where she rooms with some bonobos and learns way too much about Ham’s marital problems. I thought this was a very creative book with some delightfully weird earthiness, but it becomes somewhat static once Sebah boards the ark and meets a character who kills too much of the tension.

At the Queen’s Summons by Susan Wiggs (2009 update of 1995 original): Pippa, a street performer in Elizabethan England, claims the patronage of Aidan O Donoghue, a minor Irish king, in order to save herself from arrest. Aidan, a goodhearted fellow, goes along with it. This was a pleasant story, but I can remember almost nothing about it. I love Susan Wiggs, but her Tudor Rose trilogy is kind of a snore.

#books #reading

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inkstaineddove · 6 years ago

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A Boy and His Fritz

Pairing: Prussia/Frederick the Great

Characters: Prussia, Frederick the Great

Summary: Someone corners Prussia about his relationship with Frederick the Great. Prussia repeats their sorry history confronting many emotions he would've preferred to keep in the past.

He was always obnoxious, arrogant, way too prideful and stubborn. He was a prince. He was my prince. I should've expected as much, but he still found new ways to surprise me. Like that bullshit with von Katte, but that's later. We gotta get to the early stuff. He pissed me off. God, I couldn't stand him for the longest time. His dad was my boss so that had something to do with it, for sure. Frederick William only wanted compliance. I was the first person he got it so completely from, never questioning what he demanded of me. Vader, Germania, he died when I was pretty young. I was always eager to please my kings to get one of them to see me as their own son. Frederick William was easiest to imagine it happening with cause he hated his kids so much. He was so hard on them. Beating them with canes and calling them things I can't repeat even now...my God. It was a mess. I’ve got no room to judge. I can’t claim any moral superiority. I participated, I helped, I believed he was in the right at the time. Especially with Fritz. It hurts when the heir to the throne only speaks French, only wants to dress French, read French, and pretty much wants to be French. It hurts when he rejects everything that your nation represents. The only thing I had then was the military. He rejected that, thought it was unimportant when the arts and literature and playing his fucking flute were more important. Heh, maybe I'd still be around if he'd stuck to his guns on that principle. Then again, I'd be like Bavaria or some shit and I don't think I could handle that.

I remember when he tried sneaking away to England with his boyfriend. It was the only thing he’d done until then that I’d respected. The kid had balls to get that many people to disobey the king and help him sneak off. Especially cause he managed to make it so they didn't even get their hands dirty. Ja, I was furious because it felt like he was running away from me instead of just the king. It was real personal. When he got back, I hit him. I hit him and I cursed him out. The look in his eyes then. He didn't see me as any different than his father. I was an extension of him, the embodiment of everything he'd wanted to escape from. It was disgusting. I was disgusting. I never apologized to him for that. For how I treated him for his entire princedom. I always meant to. I always found a reason to pussy out. Funny, huh? I'll run head-on towards an army that'll crush mine without fear, but I'll always chicken out whenever it comes to people. Guess I'm a bit of a coward. Ya'know what it was like watching his boyfriend die? Katte, he didn’t do anything wrong. We knew back then he had tried to stop Fritz. It was all for show. If Frederick William couldn’t kill his son then he needed to kill somebody. Katte happened to be the death that would hurt the most. The poor guy, even his last words were for Fritz. How much he loved him, how loyal he was, how he'd die like this a thousand times. It was so sappy. Wish someone would say that for me when I go. I don't know which image haunts me more - the actual beheading or the aftermath. Seeing Fritz starve himself, lock himself in his cell for days, refusing to talk to anyone or respond to letters. It was scary. He didn’t want anyone to look after him. Frederick wanted to die and, even worse, the king would’ve been fine with it. Later on - years later, close to his death - I told Fritz what I'd done. I confessed to him how I'd been in the camp encouraging the execution of Katte. I had been double dealing, going back and forth and telling Frederick William what wasn’t mentioned in official reports. I collapsed at his feet, clinging tightly to Fritz's hand as I begged for forgiveness. He didn't respond for the longest time. I was pretty sure he hated me again. If he did, I don't think I could've handled that. I looked up, saw a few tears running down his cheeks. He pulled me up and held me close. He told me I'm a bastard, that of course he forgives me, told me I was the only one he had left and made me promise to never mention the event again. Shit, I feel like his ghost is gonna haunt me now for this. Should I mention his wife? He sure as well never did. Poor Elisabeth. I kept trying to get her to go back to her family in Brunswick. Go someplace where she was wanted and where she was loved. That woman was the epitome of stand by your man. She refused. She actually loved him. She cherished the few times she would see him, the few letters he'd send her. None of it was romantic. He was always really formal around her, but who was I to burst her bubble. The marriage made Fritz somewhat happy and the king very happy. I was content cause my job was easier and how gay he was would get around soon enough. Voltaire really did an awesome job with that. There was such a buzz when he became king. I found myself dragged into it as well, despite technically mourning Frederick William still. I know he denounced Machiavelli a few months before, but that was bullshit. This was an exciting time for us. He’d study our armies with such frantic energy, continiously reforming and expanding them. War was coming. Of course, I was gonna win! It's me! I don't lose when I've got a great leader. I'm too awesome for that shit. The Silesian Wars. What started it all. Meeting Austria face-to-face in the field kept me alive for centuries. From then till the Seven Year’s War, that was the climax of our little rivalry. People can claim the Austro-Prussian War as it, but what do they know? They weren't alive then, they weren't alive for any of it. Only him and I know when it was. And it was in our fights for Silesia, for more than Silesia. That was just a front. It was always about who'd become the dominant force among the rest of our family. Who’d control the Germanic states. Ya'know, sometimes I wish he would've won it all. I wish that he'd kicked me out of unification. Maybe I'd still be on a map. Maybe I'd be allowed at these meetings and would have my contributions to history be seen as a positive thing instead of a thing leading up to...well, you know. It's the most pointless fantasy, but I always slip into it. Can you really blame me? Dammit, I keep getting sidetracked. There's so much in this shit, it’s impossible to not think about everything. This was the best time of my life, but it’s all so bittersweet. Sometimes I’m not sure if I’d wished they’d gone on longer or if they’d never happened. Shit, that's unawesome to confess to. I'll go on. France and Saxony were absolutely useless in the Silesian Wars. It was all me. Ja, they were technically there, but what did they do? I carried the weight. I was the true hero of the day. I don't mind. It's my name that goes down for the win. The recognitions all that matters in the end, right? Fritz was in the limelight. He was the talk of Europe and he knew it. Everyone was intrigued by us, trying to guess our next move. We were a powerful team. I'm not surprised Napoleon studied us so much. I would too if I were him. We had courtiers from France, Britain, even fucking Russia knocking on our door! You know what was awesome about Fritz? He told them all to fuck off. Didn't want anything to do with them. He just wanted to be left alone with his friends, his dogs, and his flute. I think that's where I got that from. The period between the Silesian Wars and the Seven Years War, that was the good time. He wasn't a paternalistic man in the slightest. He had no desire for kids and wasn’t always sure what to do with them. But he regarded me like I'd imagine a father treats his son. Hell, he let me start calling him ‘dad’ around this time. I really only started calling him ‘Old Fritz’ when he was gone. Figured everyone would find it weird if I was still calling my old boss my dad. We lived without a care then. He taught me flute, we composed together, wrote together. He would take me to the opera and theater every chance he could. He always made time for me. I don't think I left his side during this time except to shit and sleep. He was proud of my terrible poetry. God, it was awful. It’s hidden somewhere in West’s basement. It’s too painful to look at. He taught me French - against my will, but it was the royal language so he made it mandatory even for me - and English. He'd sit out in the gardens to read and watch me hunt. Fritz thought it was a dumb thing to enjoy, but he always managed to act proud of what I caught. Then war hit again. We had a minor disagreement in perspective on that. Some would say I was overconfident in my chances, but others would say he was incredibly pessimistic and a bit rude about ours. Maybe he realized the threat of Russia, Sweden, France, and Austria against us better than I did originally, but at least I had gusto. Despite that, we were both going to fight it whether it killed us and everyone really wanted to kill us. The Miracle of the House of Brandenburg is the only thing that saved us. Again, historians don't know jack shit when they define it. They claim it was the death of the Tzarina and the rise of her nephew that was obsessed with me. I'm not kidding, I swear he had a crush on me. I don’t blame him, but it was a different time. He should’ve been more discreet. The real miracle was that Fritz didn't kill himself or abdicate like he kept promising to do. With anyone else on the throne, even with her death we would've lost. Taking on France and a vengeful, bloodthirsty Austria required skill back then that only Fritz and I had. We won by the skin of our teeth. Fritz had to carry me back to Potsdam after treaty negotiations. I was barely conscious. For weeks after that I was knocked out. Apparently I kept hallucinating and thought I was a kid again. Healing was a slow process since my entire body took so much damage, including Berlin. It took a month for the heartburn to go away. When I finally came to, I never left his side. We shared a bedroom. He'd lost so much of his family during that war. He was afraid of being alone. He clung to me and Voltaire, which I didn’t approve of. Voltaire was a gossip and a prick, always in the pocket of France’s court if Francis could cough up enough money. He was a shit spy anyway, but when have the French been known for their intelligence? Anyways, I did whatever he wanted. His fingers became too swollen and stiff and he was losing all his teeth, so I would play the flute for him. I'd run through his favorites or create new things on the spot. I'd play for hours on end if he wanted. I just wanted to make him happy again. I'd missed seeing him smile. We'd walk around the gardens at lunch. That was always when he reflected on his life to me. At the time, I thought it was really fucking weird. I'd been through everything with him. I knew it all and I'd seen it all. Made more sense for him to tell his biographers this shit. Not like I could go out and immortalize it in some book other than my diaries. I didn't appreciate it until Bismarck started making a name for himself. Then I finally understood the appeal. It's hard to explain why exactly. I just do. It gives me more of him to think about. It's more than having one of his hats or walking sticks or still being allowed to live in Sans Soucci. It's him. It's how he saw things. A person's perspective is more valuable than any material object. Fuck, I've really turned into a sentimental old man, haven't I? I used to say his death was the worst thing that ever happened to me. Dissolution beats it, but only by a small amount. The mythos is true, by the way. The clock in his room did stop at the exact time he died. I've got no fucking idea what he was doing up that early, but that’s how he was. Maybe he knew he was dying and wanted to meet his last adversary ready. That's how I like to think about it. I like to think it was painless. I know he was smiling. He looked so relaxed, like he finally got what he wanted all along. I woke up to the body. Sometimes I fall asleep still seeing it. They had to pull me away from him. I was sobbing, hugging him close. Maybe if I prayed hard enough, one of our Gods would give him some of my immortality. I think my prayer backfired. Seems like I'm starting to get some of his mortality, huh? Ain't the world funny. No, fuck you, I'm not crying. There's just some shit in my eye. Mind your own business. Do you think he'd be proud of me? I'm not talking about me as Prussia. I know he wouldn’t cause all his hard work went to shit. All his hard won land is now apart of a German state he didn't want, Austria, a country he helped remove from the map, Russia, and Lithuania. So that's definitely a disappointment. I want to know if he's proud of me, Gilbert. From 1740 onward, I always tried to make him proud. I only wanted to do what he would think is best, make him smile from beyond the grave. Do you think he is? I think so. I have to. Sometimes, that thought is the only one that keeps me going.

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