#ww1 mentions

[huffle-dork]

Etwas Peilen (Swapboys AU)

Continuation of Welcome to the Show exploring Alt and Henny’s relationship!

Masterpost | More Swapboys

Before the new friends parted ways, the good doctor Jackson rounded them all up to get their scratches and wounds tended to. Bro and Jackie were already helped, with Bro giving a detailed report to the police and Jackie icing his aching nose.

Dr. J had Alt up on the bar stools with him, lightly dabbing antiseptic on the cuts on his cheek. Alt hissed and was trying not to glitch away as Jameson held him still.

Henrik watched anxiously, wringing his fingers back and forth. He… can’t believe Magnificent just… let them go. Guess they proved themselves? Maybe… but- Henrik was scared the puppetmaster was only biding his time. And until now… he had no one who he could confide in.

Until… Alt.

As the good doctor started to gather his supplies and finished up with Alt, popping a clean white bandage on his cheek- Henrik hesitated before slowly approaching. The normally charismatic actor felt nerves in his throat but he tapped the glitch on the shoulder.

Alt looked back and raised an eyebrow at him, “Schneep? Uh… wassup?”

Henrik tapped his legs as he tried to find his voice, “T-Today was… long day. But- we… we have found ourselves in a uh… similar position, yes? And so I… I was wanting to invite you to make the drinkings with me?”

Alt’s eyebrows furrow in slight concern, “Are you suggesting alcohol to wash our troubles away? Cuz I don’t think the doc would approve of that-“ He glanced back towards Jameson as he went to join the others.

The gentleman laughs and shakes his head, “No no! Not in that way… I- just think it would be nice to… get to know each other better? Since well… you know.” Henrik messes with the back of his head anxiously, trying to give an award winning smile to Alt.

The younger man stared at Henrik with an unreadable expression for a couple beats. Then, he sighs and stuffs his hands in his pockets, going to pull his mask up out of habit but stopping himself to look back at the actor.

“…I should warn you I’m not an open person so… I dunno how much getting to know each other they’ll be… but, sure. Tomorrow night… meet me at Insomnia.”

Henrik tilts his head slightly, “Not tonight?”

Alt laughs, though, it looks kinda pained. “Nah I… I got a gig tonight.” He laughs some more and pushes his bangs back then tugs on them, “god… I have a gig… I… I should get ready for that…”

Henrik frowns in sympathy and hesitates before putting a hand on Alt’s shoulder. “Please… do not push yourself too hard my friend… and you… you are injured…”

Alt blinks in surprise at the gesture and then glitches back to his feet, looking at the actor warily. Henrik blinks and holds up a hand and Alt attempts to give a forced smile. “I-I would cancel but… I need money for drinks now.”

Henrik steps back and wildly waves his hands, half signing out of habit. “No no! You will not pay! It will be on me!”

The glitch seems surprised by this too. But, now he smiles more genuinely. “Well… all the more motivation then, huh?”

He lightly hits Henrik on the shoulder as he starts to walk away, turning so the gentleman can still read his lips. “…see you tomorrow then, Schneep. You know how to reach me.”

He then pauses and fully turns back towards Henrik, something dawning on his face. “Wait… you Do know how to text right? U-Use a phone?”

Henrik laughs and nods, “Ja I know the telefon! I’m not as fresh from the past as you think, my friend. I have learned very much!”

“Oh… okay- good then…” Alt nods then sends a two finger salute Henrik’s way, glitching away into that night. “See ya.”

Turns out Henrik did know how to text but… not… well-

Around 7 pm the next day Alt’s phone buzzed with:

Schneep

🍺🙏☑️❓❓❓

Alt

…Yeah man- how’s 9 sound?

Schneep

😁🥰❗️❗️❗️

Alt

U kno u don’t have to use only emojis to text right?

Schneep

👍

Welp- guess that answered that. (Asking Jackie about it- apparently after Dr. J helped Henrik get his phone, the teal gentleman accidently got stuck in the emoji menu for a couple days and now is like- addicted to them. Alt wasnt sure if that was better or worse than old man texting-)

A little after 9, Alt glitched in front of the small pub downtown called Insomnia. He liked it here- good place for a drink after some of his shows.

He walks in, nodding towards the bartender that recognized his mask. Then, it was surprisingly easy to find Schneep- cuz he barreled right towards Alt with his arms open.

“Hallo, Alt!! My friend!!” He shouted.

Alt quickly stumbled back, his shoulders buzzing as he tried to keep out of Henrik’s grip. He hurried to take off his mask and hold up his hands. “Uh- hi Schneep- sorry just- not good with… contact-”

Henrik tilted his head in confusion but then got the memo and nodded, a bright smile back on his face. “Oh yes! Not to worry- I will save huggings for later!”

“Y…yeah- sure-” Alt muttered as he rubbed the back of his neck. Damn- this guy was too sweet. It was kinda intimidating…

A furry head peaked out from Henrik’s leg and Alt recognized Schneep’s dog, Sahne. He felt himself bristle a bit like an offended cat. But, she just blinked at him, her tail slightly wagging. She had her vest on- guess she was working. So, Alt tried his best to ignore her.

Henrik led them towards a quieter part of the bar where he had already set himself up with a small book. Though, once Alt got closer he recognized it as something more than just a paperback novel- it was a small moleskin sketchbook. Henrik plopped into the seat and Alt hesitated before sitting down and gesturing towards the book.

“You… draw?”

The gentleman’s eyes sparkled as he eagerly nodded. “Oh yes! I quite like making art in my spare time! Normally, I like to paint… but when I wait for friends I like to draw portraits!”

He shows Alt his sketches- quick gestures of other patrons- mostly anyone with a very striking appearance. Henrik smiles as he looks at them. “I think… learning people is helping me to understand more and more about how people work now. Sometimes- it helps it feel not too different.” He pats Sahne’s head as she sits down next to him. She licks his fingers then settles down to rest under his barstool.

Alt listens and nods to his words. He then flushes and fumbles for his backpack. They were trying to get to know each other and… well- this was something most people don’t know about him. But, artists liked showing off to other artists. It couldn’t hurt… He pulls out a thin tablet and then turns on the screen, flipping to show it to Henrik. On the screen are designs he’s done for his illusions and shows- and concepts of graffiti tags, most featuring a green eyeball with red x’s and a stitched smiley face over its iris. Alt’s face turns very red as he stammers out, “I uh… I draw too. And, um… i also like- painting but… not in the way you do.”

The German actor looks beyond pleased, sparkles practically coming off his body as he grabs Alt’s hands and holds them close. Alt yelps and pulls himself away and Henrik apologizes quickly, “Oh yes sorry! But Alt! You are good! Such fun colors!! I wondered if it was bright paint on your clothes! Someday you must show me more of your work!”

The glitch turns even more red and hides a bit in his hoodie, “Um… yeah- if I can… find one that’s uh- in a good spot… I can show you.”

Alt had been trying to find more free spaces lately but- doesn’t mean he doesn’t still tag where he’s not supposed to. Not that anyone could catch him- he had quite the streak for heaven spots around the area. Couldn’t take Henrik to see those though- well, at least up close.

Alt flagged down the bartender and ordered some Irish whiskey, watching as Henrik got what looked like his 3rd pint of beer. He smirked and sipped at the drink, taking a second to appreciate it before he sighs and looks back at Henrik.

“Alright, you had something on your mind, right? Or were you serious about getting to ‘know me’?” Alt added the air quotes to make sure his sarcasm wasn’t lost on Schneep.

Henrik blinked and then played with the pages of his sketchbook. “Oh ah… I do- want to get to know you… I think you seem- well… very rough around edges- but… sympathetic too. I think I would very much like to be friends.” He tried to smile at Alt. But, then he sighs and takes a sip of his drink before continuing.

“But- if you want to skip pleasantries then- we can talk about the elephant in the air-”

“...do you mean ‘elephant in the room’?”

Henrik flushed and then laughed, “Oh is that how that is called? But… ja- let’s talk about this elephant.”

He then gets quiet and looks down, tracing the lines in the table.

“...Magnificent-” He eventually whispers, suppressing a shudder. “I… I could not help but notice… that he treated you and me… very different from each other.”

He looks to meet Alt’s eyes now, “I do not know how it works for you… maybe it is different… but when I am ah- puppet… I see it all. I remember. Not right away but… it comes to me in my dreams…” He grips one of his hands into a fist and closes his eyes as he takes a shaky breath. Sahne seems to sense his distress and reaches up to rest her head on his leg. He continues, “I cannot control what my body does. I cannot form my own thoughts- but I still… see it. I am forced to take in what awful things I am made to do…”

Henrik hesitates again before meeting Alt’s gaze. “in the warehouse, when he gave you his power… did you mean it? That you wanted all that or… was that his ah- thinking forced in you?”

Alt frowns. Wow- that was… immediately very deep. He takes a long sip of his whiskey before he responds, but his voice is quiet. He almost forgets he needs to turn enough for Henrik to read his lips.

“I… I was definitely influenced but… I guess. I do.. kinda want that?” He grips at his head slightly, “It’s… complicated… and goes wayyy into my backstory that I’m not sure you’re at a level to unlock yet.”

Henrik looks confused.

Alt shakes his head.

“Sorry video game joke uh- im not sure we’re… close enough yet… to explain why… but-”

“Then, can I share some of me?”

The glitch blinks at the actor. “Huh?”

“If you know me better then- we would be closer. And you can explain better, ja?” Henrik smiles.

Alt looks confused by this but eventually laughs and knocks back some more of his drink. “Alright, shoot.”

Henrik hums and looks up, “Oh… where to begin…?”

“Oh!” He grins at Alt, “I know is hard to believe because of my accent but- did you know I am not full German? Actually, I am a full British citizen!”

Alt’s eyebrows shot up, “...that is hard to believe.”

The gentleman laughs lightly, “I know my accent is everywhere- but I spent many of my early years only speaking German- and sometimes French!” He gets a dreamy look on his face, “My father was a British doctor- he learned in France where he met my mother. She was full German but was trying to study with some artists there. They met… fell in love and then moved to London and had their 5 kids.”

“5 kids?!”

“Yes! I was the baby!” Henrik added with glee. “I had 4 older siblings- two brothers, Peter and Fritz… and my sisters, Gabi and Ilse.” He smiles sadly for a second and pauses to take another drink before sharing more.

“Father used to say when he grew up he hated German because he was expected to learn it. But then, he met my mother and it was suddenly the most beautiful language to him. We loved speaking it- even while in England. I wouldn’t even see Germany until I was grown.”

He then frowns and leans more on the table, absent-mindedly petting Sahne’s fur back. “... that changed with the war. The great war… Then, our accents and our language was suddenly not to be spoken. People would get angry with us for sounding too German. We made sure to hide our German sounding names… Father was on the lines, as were my brothers.

So… they were… somewhat safe when the Zeppelins came. Safer than we were…”

Alt’s heart and stomach dropped.

“No one was prepared… we were out shopping and… and-” Henrk clenched his glass tight with both hands, his fingers shaking. He squeezed his eyes shut and took a stuttering breath. Sahne whined and leaned more on his leg. Alt didn’t know what to say-

“... Mama, Ilse and Gabi didn’t have to suffer. But, I never saw them again-”

“...Schneep-” Alt tried to interrupt. But, Henrik was lost in his re-telling.

“That’s how my deafness started, I was… 11, I think? Peter found me, he was working in a hospital nearby. He took care of me. Some kind soldiers taught me sign while I recovered- then... Then father was-”

“Schneep!” Alt exclaimed and gripped onto Henrik’s shoulder. The gentleman looked up with slightly misty eyes. Alt was quick to pull away but he held up his hands. “Dude… you… you more than earned your level- I… I can answer your question now… if you want.”

Henrik blinks and then laughs, looking a bit embarrassed as he rubbed at his eyes. “O-oh ja… I forgot that was the point… we are not here to hear such sad story!” He tried to smile it off but Alt could tell it was forced.

Alt swallowed and then knocked down the rest of his drink, the alcohol burning his throat. He quickly ordered another one, shaking himself out. “Need a bit more liquid courage for this…” He muttered.

Once the new drink is gotten, Alt holds it in his hands for a second before sighing and turning enough for Henrik to understand but not enough to look in his eyes. Pixels vibrate around his head and shoulders in a way that’s hard to see in the dim light of the pub.

“… I dunno if you met anyone like me in your time. And not just.. cuz of the glitches and magic but… I was… born… wrong.” He clenched his teeth slightly and tried to ignore the feeling that was screaming at him- telling him that every eye was on him. “…And I grew up… constantly thinking about it… how I wanted to be something… better. Stronger… because I didn’t feel like I was… as I am.”

He traces the rim of his cup in thought. Henrik watched him very patiently. Alt felt like that was more than he deserved.

“I know Mag was spitting fucking bullshit- but… some part of me… wants to believe him. And I’m not sure if that’s his mind tricks or… the part of me that wants to be… something more. I.. I want to be stronger… but I don’t know how to get there… and for just a little bit… I did believe him. That he could… make me stronger. And… things would get… easier.”

He leans his head on the table, starting to feel the alcohol in his cheeks. Schneep leans closer to make sure he can still understand. Alt angles his head a bit better as he mumbles in defeat.

“I’m sorry… I know you want to find some good in me but… my life has royally sucked. And… sometimes what Mag purrs out sounds… argh!”

He suddenly grips at his head, a headache blooming alongside his conflicted mind. Purple seems to spark weakly in his eyes.

“I dunno! I’m confused! I… I can still hear his stupid smug voice in my head…! I don’t know what I want…! I just- I just… I’m so fucking tired…! Of all of this-! I’m tired of being hungry and- and- powerless and a-scared… I don’t want to feel so lost anymore…!”

He starts to cry but hides his face and he hiccups “I want all of this to stop…!”

Henrik almost misses the last part but- his eyebrows crinkle with sympathy. Alt starts to come back to himself and then shoots up, looking at Henrik with wide eyes and red ears.

“Fuck I- I didn’t… I didn’t want to-“

The gentleman hesitates, going to reach out like he wants to touch Alt’s hand, but then stops to just loop his pinky around Alt’s own. Alt almost pulls away but- that’s… that’s not so bad.

“I understand,” He says softly, “He whispers siren songs- into your head. But… he will only tell you things you want to hear. He does not care… he only wants control. His promises are… empty.”

He sighs and looks down, shrugging. “That is how he got me. He used my confusion and promised to help me… he did not. He is nothing but ein lügnerischer Bastard.”

Alt looks away but- he’s afraid to tell Henrik how little he cared. Before, he met the others. Before he even thought he could become friends with them… with anyone. He didn’t care who he hurt- if he got hurt. Because- he’d finally be somewhere better…. Someone better. ….right?

Henrik lets go of Alt’s pinky and then waves a hand, giving a nervous smile.

“This is getting too of the serious! We should… talk about other things!”

Alt looked down at the table and sighs. “ I… I think… I need to go home…”

“No!” Henrik suddenly yells, startling the glitch and Sahne, who bumped her head on his leg. The actor then pleads to Alt. “We do not need to talk anymore if that is what you want! We can just… do the hangings out! We could… draw together and drink! No more serious talk!”

This gives Alt pause. Actually… that sounded like it could be fun. The pickpocket slowly smiled, bringing back his tablet. “You know what Schneep… I’ll bite. But it’s on your wallet-“

Schneep beamed brightly.

The two spent a while just drawing together. Alt tried to copy Henrik’s idea of drawing others around him. But- he wasn’t nearly as good as Schneep. So, he went back to what he knew- he even tried making bubble tags of the others' names. Just for fun. It was nice to just- doodle for a change.

He glanced at Schneep who had paused in his drawing to stare at someone across the way. He had a somewhat lovestruck look on his face.

Alt tried to follow his gaze- and saw what looked like a man- but honestly their gender was pretty ambiguous. They had tan copper skin and wavy brown hair. They were dressed in shiny silks with celestial patterns on them- even Alt had to admit they were very pretty. Maybe they were a model.

Henrik seemed to think so too- cuz as Alt looked at Henrik’s sketchbook- the whole page was filled with studies of that one person.

The glitch smirked and then bumped Henrik enough to get his attention. “Like something you see?”

“Hm? Oh! Ja… very much-“ Henrik sighed as he looked back. “He is… so pretty- I cannot stop looking…”

Alt rolled his eyes and waved a hand in front of his face. “Careful- you don’t want to creep them out-“

Then Alt frowns, realizing something.

“Wait… Schneep- are you… gay?” Alt makes a face and thinks, “wasn’t that like- a sin back then or something?”

Henrik’s face turns bright red with embarrassment and alarm. He holds his cheeks and ducks down, whispering, “ah yes right I- I cannot think such things!”

Alt wasn’t expecting such a response- so he hurries to correct him “no no it’s okay! it’s… not like it was anymore. It’s okay now- no laws against it!” Alt hurried to look around then gestures vaguely at a cluster of gay couples on another side of the pub. “Like see there’s a couple guys over there too- you’re fine…”

The actor seems to calm slightly at this and nods. Alt hesitates before adding, “I just- didn’t expect someone from your time to even be into that…”

Henrik laughs “Well it was- against the law. Very strictly for a longtime… but it does not mean the thoughts are not there.” He looks back to study the pretty person again as he swirls his drink in his glass. “Though… I think I like just- pretty people in general. I do not care what sex they are, you know?”

“Well- if it helps, I think they’re non-binary- from what I can tell at least.” Alt shrugs.

“Ah yes… that is- neither girl nor boy… yes?”

“It gets… complicated but- yeah basically.” Alt answers. He makes a face and takes a long sip of his drink. “Gender is weird.”

He then starts to think about this too. Maybe he was having too much to drink by now but- he finds himself muttering. “I get it… the pretty people thing. I- think I’m the same…? Though… I dunno- I don’t… crush on anyone. But I think if I knew someone for long enough… maybe-” Alt sighs dramatically and falls back against the table, squishing his cheek against it. “feelings are weird too…”

Henrik smiles and shakes his head with a laugh, “They are indeed…”

“Fucking hate them-“ the glitch muttered. Henrik shakes his head with a quiet giggle.

“You know- I had many chances to visit Berlin once I started acting. And it was such a sight…! It was… more okay there- to be queer. Even here in Brighton, it was becoming better and better! It made me feel… so happy. Like I could be understood- eventually.”

He looks to Alt and smiles, “Even when I was younger… I think I heard of people like you, Alt.” Alt’s eyebrows raised in surprise.

He grips his glass and looks down at the table. “However…It all started to change… right before I- I was brought…“ He pressed his lips together and suppressed a shudder.

Alt’s face creases in sympathy. He knocks back the rest of his drink then adds quietly. “…you dodged something really awful, Schneep…”

“I know…” Henrik’s voice cracks. “…I am… grateful in some ways… that I did not have to suffer another war… but…” He bites his lip to keep from crying.

Alt can tell there’s a lot left unsaid in the silence but he can read it well enough. No need to draw out this pain for the poor guy. Alt’s been pretty sensitive to touch tonight but- he leans his shoulder against Hen and flags down the bartender for another round. “…it’s okay, Schneep. I get it… let’s talk about something else, alright?”

Henrik quietly nods.

There’s quiet for a second before Alt asks, “uh… I don’t know- a lot of sign yet… wanna try to teach me? Something simple though.”

Schneep’s face instantly lights up with excitement and nods. “Oh yes!! I have the perfect thing!!”

Turns out- in sign, you can either finger spell a name or whoever’s signing can make up a sign that’s faster for someone they know. So, Henrik made quick work of teaching Alt the signs he used for their little group.

Bro Fantastic was the letter B then the sign for hero. Jackie was J then the sign for tired. Dr. J was easy- it was two J’s then the sign for doctor, naturally. And Sahne was cream, dog. Because Sahne in German meant Cream. Not the most creative name but- Alt had to admit it suited her.

Eventually Henrik starts to sign something that starts with A- then he makes a jagged motion in the air. Alt tilts his head.

“What’s that one?”

“It’s you! A- then lightning! Alt!” Henrik adds cheerily.

Alt feels his face heat up slightly. He then grins and laughs, “heh- awesome. Got any others?”

Henrik thinks- and Alt can see his cheeks getting flushed and warm like he feels on his own. So everything was a bit harder to slug through- but it was definitely more fun.

Finally, Henrik laughs and then starts a sign that looks like he’s drawing whiskers on his face. Then he taps his hand on his forehead, holding it straight up and touching the thumb to his skin.

Alt narrows his eyes. “Mmmm what’s that mean-“

Henrik grins real wide as he shows again, this time explaining. “Cat, bitch!”

The glitch’s eyes widen and then he barks out a laughs nearly spilling his drink. “Magnificent!”

“Yes! You got it!”

They both erupt into drunken laughter and giggles, falling over on each other.

The night wears on for a bit longer before the two admit they’ve had enough to drink. Alt feels it a bit more than his German counterpart and ends up stumbling into him as he attempts to stand up, nearly running into Sahne.

“Oops… s’rry pubby-“ Alt mumbles. Sahne wags her tail vigorously in response.

Henrik laughs then asks, “Can I help you outside, or?”

Alt grumbles and waves his hand. “Yeh ye- do wh’ev’r ya want…” He then pushes his face somewhat against Henrik’s side and the taller man quietly giggles at the sight.

Henrik leads the two outside and then tries to flag down a cab. He helps hold Alt up with one arm, while Sahne guards his other side, alerting him to any sounds he needs to watch out for.

He feels Alt shift and looks down to see the tired glitch try to find his eyes.

“…hen?” Alt slurs out.

It takes a second for Henrik to process that but his eyebrows shoot up. Alt hasn’t attempted to use his first name yet- it still wasn’t it fully, but it was close enough to make Henrik’s chest feel light.

The glitch looks away at first but then looks back to mumble out, “…it was nice. To not drink… alone.”

Henrik smiles and nods, “…I thought so too! It was very funny! …Perhaps we can… do it again sometime?”

Alt can’t help but feel himself smile. “…yeah… I think I’d like that…”

[akascow]

that time travel joke like "oh good ww2 hasnt happened yet" 'there was a 2nd one???" but with charles and edwin

[infactilovetea]

nah I'm totally not thinking about the fact that Siegfried Sassoon waited for several months after the armistice for a letter from Wilfred Owen because he wasn't informed about his death.

[tennessoui]

I'm begging on my hands and knees for more Twilight au, and those are words I never thought I'd say! Anakin being able to resist compulsion, and Obi-Wan seeming instantly obsessed, and poor Shmi! Pretty please 🥺🙏

hey!! sure! here's some more!

(2.5k)

Having a sheriff for a mom sucked a lot when he was a kid growing up in a small town. There was probably nothing Anakin was rebelling against more at eleven, at thirteen, at seventeen than the rule of law his mother represented. 

All things considered, she was pretty good at separating her home life from her worklife. It was Anakin who was bad at respecting the separation, Anakin who couldn’t keep son out of delinquent.  There’s only so many times he could be pulled out of wreckage and bars and buildings with Keep Out No Trespassing signs on them before he got The Sheriff at home and out in public.

He’d hated it growing up and had come to grudgingly respect it later and in fits and starts. His dad dying had, terribly and ironically, helped a lot. His mother had had a stroke just before and then Anakin had been faced with the possibility of being an orphan, and the terror of that had mellowed him out.

Sorta.

He still hates a lot of things about his mother’s job. Especially the fact that she’s the sheriff of a very small town.

And when people talk, she listens.

The thing about small towns is that everyone’s always fucking talking. And other people are always fucking lsitening so they can talk later. One big fucking community, which means when Anakin comes home from his weird doctor’s appointment with Dr. Kenobi, a few hours later because he took a detour biking along the edge of the seaside cliffs just to spit in the good doctor’s metaphorical face, Shmi Skywalker already knows more than Anakin ever planned to tell her.

Like, for instance, “Sheila says that Dr. Kenobi thought it would behoove you to spend some time at the local library volunteering.”

Anakin pauses, backpack half-slung off his shoulders. He hangs his stuff up slowly, careful to keep his tone very light. “Did Sheila say what I told him after he said that?” 

His mom’s silence is very loud.

“I don’t want to do i—”

“I asked the new librarian about it on my way home from the station. She thinks it’s a wonderful idea. Apparently we used to have a program like that in the forties but it died out during the war.”

“Mom, come on—”

“It’ll look good on resumes, saying you created and supported a local reading program.”

“Yeah, but I’m a bit too old to be applying for babysitting positio—”

“It’ll look good for me as well,” Shmi says in her sheriff voice. “Elections are coming up soon. It’ll be good, if my kid was involved in the community.”

Anakin’s glad that his back is still turned to the living room, where his mom is sitting. “Are you gonna run again?” he asks, paying special attention to his tone this time.

“Why wouldn’t I?” his mom replies. “I’ve been sheriff for a decade and a half.”

Anakin lets his eyes fall closed for a second, knowing that his face can’t be seen. This is how they end up half the time: Shmi’s ardent belief that she is invincible, going up against Anakin’s desperate desire for her to be so.

And they just don’t talk about it. As if they’re actually in agreement.

He knows how this is going to shake out.

“Do you have any plans tomorrow?” His mother asks.

Anakin’s eyes remain closed. “I guess so,” he says.

—--------

Mrs. Kenobi—call me Satine—is sort of scary up close. She’s tall. She glides between bookshelves. Anakin’s never met someone who glides before. And she’s so intensely, incredibly, blindingly perfect that Anakin would rather be anywhere but in her vicinity. There’s something incredibly unnerving about the symmetry of her face, the sharpness of her cheekbones. She’s obviously an absolute knock-out, just drop-dead gorgeous, but it makes Anakin’s skin crawl and his heart beat fast, but not in a good way or a normal teenage boy way.

Anakin tries to keep the unease off his face as Satine leads him through a tour of the library, a gentle hand on his forearm. That’s another thing Anakin doesn’t really like. She’s wearing satin gloves. He doesn’t know anyone who wears gloves anymore.

It’s just all a bit…unsettling.

“I put in a few words around the school yesterday afternoon,” Satine tells him. They pass by the mystery section, the fantasy section, and take a hard right into the young adult section. The shelves are smaller here, and Anakin feels rather stupidly gigantic as he and Satine walk through them. “To some parents picking their children up after school. They agreed it would be good exposure to bring them to the library for an hour or so of reading before supper.”

Anakin highly doubts it will be, but Satine hasn’t really asked him.

She sweeps past his figure and pushes open a pair of double doors with a flourish better suited for a Russian tsarina hosting an elaborate ball than a small town librarian showing off a small, cramped, and dusty room filled with padded seats and threadbare rugs.

And then, as if she has been waiting to put the last nail in the proverbial coffin, Satine adds, “A few students from the local high school will be here as well.”

“Sorry,” Anakin says, “are you saying I’m going to be reading to high school students? Can’t they do that themselves?”

After all, Anakin went to high school here. Academics hadn’t been too rigorously challenging, but they’d taught the fucking basics.

Satine raises one perfectly plucked eyebrow in his direction. “They’ll be volunteering as well.”

Oh. Right.

“It looks good on their college applications,” Satine waves a hand through the air and the words linger there. Anakin looks out the rather dirty window, jaw clenching. “I’ve already chosen a handful of books I think the young ones will enjoy.”

Anakin, committed to his fate, pads over to the titles placed carefully ontop of a short, stout side table. 

“Peter the Rabbit,” he reads off the top. “Peter Pan. Alice in Wonderland. Treasure Island. The Prince and the Pauper—look, you’re the librarian here, but don’t you have anything written this century maybe? Harry Potter, even.”

“These are classics,” Satine tells him, her nose raised into the air as if she has encountered something particularly foul-smelling. She turns away, presumably to return to the front desk so she can welcome half the fucking town inside the library so Anakin can read them fucking Anne of Green Gables and become a better person.

“These are fucking boring,” he mutters to himself, flicking the cover of the first book, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz open. Publication date: 1900. “I’d rather be in Kenobi’s office getting lectured at.”

There’s a sharp noise of disapproval from the doorway, and Anakin’s head snaps up to see the tail end of a very heated look from the librarian before the door closes behind her.

He shivers, alone in the emply room, and it takes several long minutes for his heart to settle back into its normal pace. 

—----------

After the fourth kid sneezes, Anakin closes his book with a snap and stands from the very small chair they’ve got him sitting on. “Come on,” he tells the cluster of children he’s been assigned to. “We’re getting out of here.”

“Are you kidnapping us?” One of them, a snot-nosed kid who’d started the sneezing says, rubbing at her cheek beneath her glasses. “Cause mommy says that’s not allowed.”

“I’m not kidnapping you,” Anakin snaps back, barely holding in his natural follow-up to the sentence which is of course, I don’t want to be around any of you in the first place. “Also, just for future reference, you shouldn’t ask if someone’s kidnapping you after you already start following them.”

The girl scowls and reaches up her hand to hold onto Anakin’s. 

For the love of Christ.

“We’re just going to go into the main part of the library,” Anakin tells his children, all six of them. “They have windows out there.”

They have windows out there and they also have parents. Parents who absolutely should be doing other things with their lives and precious hour of extra freetime.

Parents who are clustered instead around the library’s front desk as the town’s newest librarian holds court.

“Is reading time over?” one of the kids asks him, turning his head to look up at Anakin.

Anakin thinks about it. “Do you want reading time to be over?”

The kid thinks about it back. “Yeah,” he decides. “You don’t do the voices good.”

“It’s a boring book,” Anakin tells the kid. “Voices aren’t going to make it better.”

“Voices always make it better,” another kid says. “They make everything better.”

“Oh look,” Anakin says. “Is that your father?”

He gestures vaguely towards the cluster of drooling middle-aged somethings focused on Satine.

The kid peeks around his thigh and then shakes his head. “No,” he says. “That’s Dr. Obi.”

“Dr. Obi!” The kid holding Anakin’s hand says, and she lets go.

Anakin gets a bad feeling about this, a feeling that only doubles when he turns around to see Dr. Kenobi sauntering towards him, hands tucked into the pockets of a long dark jacket that makes him look even more pale than he already is.

He scowls automatically as the man gets closer. “Dr. Obi.”

Dr. Kenobi spares him a look that’s far too amused for Anakin’s pleasure before he crouches down to the level of the kids. “Hello there, young ones,” he says, opening his arms to accept a hug from the traitor of a girl Anakin’s just spent thirty minutes reading to. “Are you eating all your vegetables? Even the brussel sprouts?”

“I like brussel sprouts,” one of the kids reports sounding proud, and that starts a cacophony of opinions about brussel sprouts from all around Anakin.

“Wow! One of mine just absolutely hates them,” Dr. Kenobi says. “She refuses to eat them, so you’re very brave, Michele.” He lets go of the girl and turns his golden-brown gaze up to Anakin. “And what does Mr. Skywalker think?” he asks, raising a hand for Anakin to take. It’s very obvious he’s asking for a hand up and Anakin is obeying before he thinks about it. He snatches his hand free almost too soon, but Dr. Kenobi doesn’t even have the grace to lose his balance and fall over. 

His hand is like ice in Anakin’s, and Anakin stuffs his fingers into the pocket of his jacket automatically a second later.

“Do brussel sprouts help with circulation?” he’s biting out before he can stop himself. “Cause you may need some then.”

Kenobi’s head tilts very slightly to the side as his eyes catch and hold onto Anakin’s. “Oh?” he asks lightly. 

“You’re cold,” is all Anakin mutters in return. He swipes his other hand against the back of his neck. “”S poor circlutation, isn’t it? Something in your diet maybe?” Dr. Kenobi blinks at him and then breaks into a wide smile. “I can assure my diet is very…circulation-mindful,” he says. “Blood health positive.”

Anakin’s mouth thins into a line. He guesses that’s what he gets for trying to give health advice to a doctor, especially a doctor like Kenobi who just so happens to be devastatingly attractive and also smart.

And also an asshole. And also married.

Speaking of which. “Are you here to fend off your wife’s admirers with a scalpel?” Kenobi’s eyebrows raise. “Young ones,” he turns his head away from Anakin, down to the children.

The strangest feeling breaks of Anakin the second Kenobi looks away, almost as if a strange pressure he hadn’t even realized had been building was suddenly dissolved.

The very small beginnings of a headache begin to thrum in his temples.

“Young ones, it’s time to find your parents, isn’t it?” Kenobi says, and like fucking magic, the crowd of six children around Anakin disperse, children swarming away from him towards the group of adults surrounding the front desk.

“Can you teach me how to do that?” Anakin blurts out, even though he’d meant to ignore Kenobi now that he doesn’t have to make nice in front of small kids. Not that he was really making nice in the first place. But now he definitely doesn’t have to.

Kenobi gives him a half-smile, eyes heavy-lidded. “It’s a special sort of skill that takes, above all else, much practice.”

Anakin scowls. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Does Kenobi think he can’t commit himself to something even as mundane as a fucking commanding persona? Does he think he doesn’t have it in him to be–-

Kenobi’s eyebrows go up again. “Has anyone ever told you that you are exceedingly defensive?” 

“You’re extremely nosey,” Anakin snaps back, crossing his arms over his chest. “Don’t you have better things to focus on right now anyway?”

He gestures loosely towards Satine, who has started playing with one of the mother’s bracelets as the other woman stands and looks at her rather dumbfounded.

Kenobi follows his gaze and then lets out a huff of laughter. “Satine can take care of herself,” he says, even though it hadn’t really been Satine that Anakin was worried about.

He’s about to open his mouth to say so when Kenobi turns back to him. His eyes are piercing, a dark, captivating sort of gold. 

“Do you find my wife beautiful, Anakin?” he asks.

Anakin blinks. His headache is getting worse, which is probably down to what can only be a trick-question fashioned to look like a grenade lobbed at his feet. “I don’t think there’s a good answer to that,” he mutters, rubbing absently at his forehead. “What the fuck.”

“An honest answer is a good one,” Kenobi says lightly. “Tell me honestly.”

The words feel pulled from Anakin’s stomach, and he’s opening his mouth before he realizes it. “No,” he says. 

Kenobi’s eyebrows crinkle together. “No?”

Anakin curses his stupid impulse control. “She’s beautiful,” he adds quickly. “Really. But…it makes me uncomfortable.”

Kenobi’s lips purse, and then there’s something like disappointment in his eyes as he examines Anakin. “Ah yes,” he murmurs. “I’ve been told my wife can make countless young men feel rather uncomfortable. It’s normal in men your age, Anakin. Sexual ar—”

“Uncanny,” Anakin blurts out. He doesn’t mean to, but he also doesn’t want to listen to  Kenobi trying to lecture him on fucking arousal in the public library. When it’s not even relevant. “She’s so beautiful, it’s uncanny.”

“Uncanny.”

“Yeah, like. Monstrous.”

Kenobi’s mouth falls open, pink lips parted in what looks like honest surprise.

Anakin’s own eyes widen as it hits him that he’s just called Kenobi’s wife a monster to Kenobi’s face.

“Shit,” he says. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that. I’m going to go.” 

He throws a look at Kenobi, whose eyes are lit with something a lot like interest and then across the library to where Satine’s head is turned, cocked, and eyebrows up high on her forehead, as if she’s just heard everything he’s said.

He decides rather immediately that he’s going to take the backdoor exit.

[deepfriedpaddymayne]

girls when they remember that wilfred owen was killed in action A WEEK before the armistice was signed

[saturrnsoul]

WW1 German Solider Painting

idk, had a vision of making more anti-war art

Art before details under cut

[reddorkredemption]

* spoilers for rdr1 since a bunch of people are playing for the first time x

Since the rdr1 port came out, I've been seeing an increase in people talking about Jack Marston's fate after killing Ross. Which is great! He's a very interesting character, and he deserves a lot more attention!

However... it seems like almost every time, people talk about how Jack would definitely fight in WW1, and I just... die a little bit inside.

I don't like to rock the boat, but c'mon dude. Jack Marston? Fighting in WW1? In what universe? We can't be thinking of the same person.

There's no way that Jack would voluntarily join the army. The army stormed his ranch and killed his family while they were just minding their own business doing nothing wrong. As far as he's concerned, the army and the government are monsters. He would see nothing honorable about fighting for them.

So people will then say that yes, he wouldn't want to join, but he wouldn't have a choice because he'd be drafted and thus required by law to do so. But I have to ask-- what about Jack Marston makes you think that he gives half a shit what the law is?

This kid hunted down and killed a federal agent-- and didn't really make that much of an effort to hide it either. I don't think he cares that much about the law or the consequences of breaking it. He'd laugh in the face of anyone telling him he HAS to sign up for the draft because iT's tHE LaW.

I've also seen people suggest the idea that he'd agree to fight in the war in exchange for being pardoned for Ross's murder. Which also doesn't make any sense to me, given Jack's history. He would never agree to that.

Why would he trust the government to make good on that promise after what they did to his dad? They promised John he'd be forgiven for all his crimes if he helped them capture his old gang members, and Jack saw how that turned out. He wouldn't let them repeat history with him.

I just do not see it. I cannot see it. So if you can, please explain it to me. I am lost.

( Aside from all that, I also just don't understand why people want him to fight in ww1 so bad anyway??? Like leave that poor boy alone, has he not suffered enough? :( )

[furorsopher]

hey! do you find yourself typing out an “austrian painter” joke? do you feel the itch to mention hitler any time you hear austria or germany? i have the solution! :D

1. don’t fucking joke abt that it’s not funny you’re just being an asshole

2. joke about frittatensuppe (or flädle as its called in germany) instead! :3

frittatensuppe is a very common starter soup in austria. its basically just palatschinken (a thin, savoury or sweet pancake that’s very popular in central europe) cut into strips (how wide they are varies greatly from cook to cook and from how many fucks are left to give) and tossed into beef or vegetable broth.

it’s fucking pancake soup.

pls joke abt this. this is funny. and you will look smart when you know stuff about a country’s culture not many ppl outside know about.

PANCAKE SOUP. I AM BEGGING YOU. ITS PANCAKE SOUP AND ITS AN ACTUAL PART OF OUR CULINARY CULTURE 😭😭 ITS RIDICULOUS(ly delicious. it’s actually so fucking good ngl i eat it every time we go to a restaurant or wirtshaus and its so easy to make with left over palatschinken)

looks like this btw ⬆️

[comfortabletogether]

Haruhiko Kobashikawa died for the girl he loved surrounded by the subject he loved

Rip Haruhiko Kobashikawa, you would’ve loved Fokker Dr. I 😔✊

[marietheran]

No, you don't get it: the most tragic thing to ever happen in any of Lucy Maud Montgomery's books is that Anne would have been around 90 by the time The Lord of the Rings was published - and she would have loved it so...

And she absolutely did live to read it (look, I get to make the rules; it's canon from now on) but imagine her having access to it as a teen! Then, she definitely wasn't there to read The Silmarillion and these books were just written for her, you know...

(sad noises)

[everett-fornow]

GORETOBER DAY 13: HEADACHE

[xxxcany0us33m3xxx]

DAY TWO(2):PRO-MEDIA-LITERACY

Theoretical physics and quantum mechanics is leaving me EXHAUSTED but here thee go, more cartoony art for day 2!

[blueshistorysims]

Late August 1915, Newcrest, England

Before Alexander returned to France, he decided to see Edith. He didn’t know why he went to see her—perhaps it was the idea that he might die at any moment, the disillusionment that nothing mattered in the face of war. He loved Edith and by God, he didn’t care if she was married.

Mr. Clayton, the man she’d left him for (and deserved) was also off in France, drafted and fighting. No one was home other than her. 

“Alexander.” She breathed, opening the door. 

“Hello, Edith.”

“What… what are you doing here?”

“I wanted to call before I returned to France.”

“When do you leave?”

“Tomorrow.”

She sighed. She looked drained, her bun disheveled, her dress wrinkled. “Why are you here?”

“Because I’m not sure if I’ll be dead by next week, Edith. I don’t care anymore. Life is too short to care about the stupid things.”

She let him into the house, against her better judgment. “Are you asking for something that is considered a sin?”

“Yes,” he confessed, stepping closer to her. 

“You rejected me before. I left you.”

“I cheated. I deserved it.” He closed the gap until they could feel each other’s breath. “I still love you.”

“I’m married,” she whispered.

He touched her arm. “Then why aren’t you saying no, Mrs. Clayton?”

Edith grabbed his face and kissed him harshly, and all of a sudden, nothing mattered other than this.

[radioactivesodabottle]

oh to be a WW1 soldier- too young to join but eager to serve for his country because of rampant nationalism and peer pressure, excited to "fight the good fight" and get justice for his homeland, wearing a uniform two sizes too big, quickly thrown into basic combat training where he makes his lifelong friends (If they don't die in battle) and they get along like a house on fire,soon after he's shown the horror and terror that was trench warfare with friends dying off like flies but there's too little time to mourn, and even with the comfort of starry nights and his bestfriend there is fear in his very bones, on and on and on until he sits on a rumbling car that he knows is going towards his doom, driving past piles of coffins he knows is meant for them, but his bestfriend looks him in the eye and he knows he'll be okay, he knows that he and his bestftiend (and maybe a little bit more, if they had enough time, but there never would be) would be togther and that would be enough, and it was enough untill the last thing he see's is the gloom and utter dread that was no mans land, with spots in his eyes and slow breathing and the last thing on his mind was smog, gunpowder and the fading thought that he and his bestfriend would make it out of the great war alive

[umbranocturnes]

Shelby Vickers

Character introduction below! Shelby is one of my side characters from my historical-fiction story set in World War Two. I absolutely love him, he has become one of my favorite characters recently and I want to draw him more. This is the first thing I have drawn since December of last year so I am rusty and my art style is a mess but of well I am trying to improve!

This is a long post below! It contains all his background I have so far, he's not a completed character yet though since I am still developing the story.

TW for some heavy content: abusive family, homophobia, biphobia, and general bigoted time period views, not from Shelby but his parents! There's also a small amount of 'bury your gays' trope in Shelby's story or at least 'bury your bisexuals' but it's a war novel. I am a LGBTQIA+ creator and I have plenty of LGBT+ characters that live in my stories so take it for what you will.

Shelby Vickers was born 27th of January 1899, in a rural lakeside village near the coast of Ireland to an Irish father and a French-Scottish mother. He has two older brothers, Anthony and Sean Vickers.

He was raised in a predominantly Catholic household, his father being Catholic while his mother was protestant. They often ended up quarreling with each other while the children are off playing and can't hear. Their family lives off the land trading and buying from locals in their small town where almost everyone knows each other. Shelby was always an outdoorsy kid, he loves going hunting and fishing with his father and brothers. He also enjoys going into the town's center with his brothers often finding himself getting into mischief with them. He loves both his older brothers dearly especially Anthony who he learns a lot from and looks up to. His favorite activities are swimming and fishing at the lake, their home being so close to the lakeside. He attended the local school and Catholic Church where he was a choir boy. His mother started teaching him French from a young age on top of traditional Gaelic and English he was being taught in school so he could understand his French relatives. Even as a youngster Shelby could tell not everything was perfect in their family home and that there was tension between his eldest brother Anthony and their father despite their family being close. Whenever he would ask his older brother about why he would always kindly be told, "I'll tell you when you're older".

When Shelby was around 14 years old he began to realize he wasn't just attracted to local girls his age and started taking an interest in some of his fellow choir boys a few years his senior. Around this time his tight knit family was also beginning to fall apart when it was discovered Shelby's eldest brother Anthony was gay he started facing more abuse from their father despite his mother's pleading. Their relationships became strained but Shelby never lost his closeness with his brother in fact growing closer to him after Anthony discovered Shelby secretly kissing one of the local choir boys. Eventually despite his eldest brother's protection, their father found out about Shelby's bisexuality from a local busy body gossiping about how he always hangs out with the choir boys and had a "queer demeanor" about him. Shelby's father caught him and a young man hiding out together in an old fishing shack along one of the lake tributaries and grew enraged. He sent the boy away and shouted at Shelby leaving him to walk home crying and when his mother found out what happened she got into a screaming match with his father pissed at how her sons were being treated. From then on their family wasn't the same. Shelby's father became an alcoholic after his sons "destroyed their family's reputation" and grew more abusive and distant. Their mother began living in fear of his abuse, her sons having to step up to fight off their father an help take care of her and the home.

--WWI--

At the outbreak of WWI Anthony is drafted into the British army along with his boyfriend Hugh and is sent off to war. A year into the war their family receives a letter that Shelby's eldest brother was killed in action. This did little to phase their father but devastated their mother causing further conflict. Shelby is heartbroken by the news and retreats further into himself becoming closer to his brother Sean in their grief. Only a few months following the death of his older brother Sean is also called off to fight, leaving Shelby and his mother at the mercy of his father. His father continued to be abusive towards the both of them, berating Shelby telling him he and Anthony made their family a disgrace to the whole town due to how they turned out.

Things kept growing worse and Shelby finally had enough running away from home and enlisting in the British Army at age 16 to fight in the Great War. He lies about his age to join alongside some of his friends and the other boys from their small town. His mother flees to live with her sister back in Scotland, his father dying a few months later from alcohol poisoning. Shelby would eventually get word that his mother died from illness in 1917, weakened by stress. His remaining brother Sean would never make it home from the war. In WWI Shelby is placed in a unit alongside Arthur Steel, William Dinsmore, Francis Rothwell, and Alfred Hackett who he would grow close to, along with some other men including an odd foreign vampire named Valerius. Shelby is thoroughly traumatized from the Great War being subjected to horrific conditions, terrifying weapons, and seeing many of his friends die including William.

-- The Interwar Years --

Following the end of the Great War Shelby becomes displaced not truly having a home to go back to in Ireland. He decides to leave traveling to visit his aunt in Scotland for a while then using the last of his money to get onboard a ship and head for France. There he goes to live with his grandparents for a change of scenery but falling in love with the French countryside he decides to stay permanently. He finds work at a local vineyard eventually saving up enough money to get an apartment. Quickly he developed quite a reputation for being a flirt hooking up with locals he meets late at night in the bars he frequently hops between. The relationships never last long often fleeting one-night stands though gossip has it he tends to keep the company of men longer. He becomes a well known local heart breaker and womanizer it is also no secret he sleeps around with men. Shelby lives a relatively normal life albeit a reckless carefree one, until the growing rise of Fascism takes hold of Europe.

--WWII--

When France falls to the Nazis between May and June of 1940 Shelby takes up arms with the French resistance heading underground to fight the Nazis. Throughout WWII Shelby works with French resistance networks and would later on be reconnected with on of his old service buddies from the Great War now head of a splinter branch of the Special Operations Executive in Britain, Alfred Hackett. Alfred sends for the SOE to recruit Shelby into the French section, the Prosper Network. Being a polyglot, resourceful, and quick thinking his skills are very valuable. He works with the Prosper Network and helps to fight with and aid local French Resistance. Later on when potential turncoats in the Prosper Network lead to the Gestapo capturing most of its agents Shelby narrowly escapes with his life.

He tries to rally the scattered remains of the network and the French Resistance but to no avail. He ends up being captured by the Gestapo in a raid trying to assist other resistance leaders in escaping. While being transported in a truck it is attacked seemingly by two German commanders who kill the surrounding nazis and assist in getting them to safety. When they make it to the underground the man tells Shelby his name is Setheroth and he's a SOE agent, he warns him to leave while he still can and quickly leaves the area himself. Shelby helps the others escape but does not follow them to safety instead deciding to join up with the Free French Forces under De Gaulle.

He fights alongside the Free French Army in the Sicily campaign and after a particularly brutal battle against the Germans when his whole unit is nearly wiped out he links up with he British troops bumping into another old war friend Arthur now ranked Captain. Arthur and his lieutenant Walter are called back to Britain as part of the preparations for Operation Overlord and they bring Shelby along. Once back in Britain Arthur helps to reinstate Shelby's position within the British army now Captain rank. Arthur and Shelby are given the task of helping prepare for Operation Overlord by training troops and Arthur is promoted to Major, he then tasks Shelby with helping to train and run a base full of recruits. There he meets a young charismatic troublesome private named Wesley Sharpe who is beloved by his fellow soldiers.

During his time helping Arthur train the recruits his reputation and history follows him back to Britain bringing him into trouble with fellow commissioned officers and facing more discrimination for being openly bisexual. Many officers refuse to work with Shelby some even refusing to shake hands not wanting to be seen with him. While on base training recruits, private Sharpe also takes an interest in him and keeps inserting himself into his daily tasks and routines. It's clear he is flirting with Shelby and is a lot like him when he first moved to France so he tries to keep a professional distance between them given their ranks. However, Wesley makes it difficult and eventually weasels his way into his life and he ends up falling in love with him and tries to keep the affair a secret not wanting to endanger Wesley's military career or his own despite Wesley's tendency towards not being very discrete. Arthur ends up finding out but covers for them despite thinking it a terrible idea and breaking military laws on multiple levels.

During Operation Overlord Shelby is part of the invasion force with Wesley and Arthur. They fight their way up through France where they are pinned down in really heavy fighting and during one of the skirmishes Wesley is shot by a sniper dropping dead. This rattles Shelby to the core and makes him completely lose his focus having not felt such horrible loss since he lost his brothers. In an almost suicidal move he runs closer to enemy lines throwing grenades into the German positions allowing the allies to advance. During the fighting he's shot through the right lung and it collapses. Arthur and the unit's medic Bram Faulkner barely save his life and he's taken to a medical tent where Arthur visits him later when he's conscious. He thanks him for his efforts but knows they were spurred on by a nothing left to lose mentality. This instability combined with his injuries and age leads Arthur to make the choice to send Shelby back to Britain where he will be suspended from active duty for the foreseeable future until he recovers. This sends Shelby flying into a grief driven rage demanding he be allowed to keep fighting and after shouting at each other Arthur leaves him no choice.

Shelby returns to Britain parting with Arthur on a slightly uneven note, and Shelby takes with him a couple of Wesley's old things he left to him. Back in Britain Shelby spirals becoming a heavy smoker and a alcoholic just like his father who he tried hard not to become. At his lowest point he's found by Hugh his eldest brother Anthony's old boyfriend who promised he would look after him if Anthony were to ever be killed. He tries to support Shelby however he can offering him to stay in his flat with him for a while and they catch up reliving memories about Shelby's brother. Shelby goes on one last mission towards the end of the war along with some of his friends as part of a recovery unit to save the man who saved several of them as a SOE spy now trapped in Germany. With the help of his friends old and new Shelby slowly learns how to live with grief and all the trauma that comes with living through two wars and manages to turn his life around towards the better becoming more stable after the end of the war.

------

Trivia:

Shelby has been arrested several times over the years, 3 times on "indecency charges" where twice he was given a slap on the wrist and the 3rd time he spent 10 days in jail before Arthur could post his bail. He also spent a night in jail after the war for punching a constable for making a snide remark about him being Irish. He is let go the next morning having claimed to be 'drunk out of his mind'.

Shelby loves fancy confectioner chocolates especially different types of truffles.

Shelby is a great singer and can also dance pretty well. He occasionally tap dances getting a laugh out of his friends.

[flash56-chase05]

P.I.G.S

—Dulce y salvaje Hibernia (& El Cid irlandés): (1588-1589; 1602).

Inglaterra tiene un objetivo claro; Irlanda está más que dispuesta a interponerse en su camino.

—El retrato de una Dama Irlandesa: (1845-1848).

Irlanda ya está demasiado cansada como para algo así.

—En la cuarta planta de Palacio (& Lo que concluyó en Compiègne): (1916-1917; 1919).

Bélgica llega a Madrid desde Londres con una misiva que debe poner en manos de su homólogo español.

—??? (& Entrevista trascendental): (1937-1939; 1942).

.

—EXTRAS: Soldado inmortal.

Había mucha literatura en torno a él y a sus semejantes. Se decían fieles a sus señores, fieros guerreros que apenas se inmutaban al ser atravesados por el acero y, cuando sus enemigos lograban hacerlos sucumbir, volvían de entre los muertos para atormentarlos. Sin embargo, España a veces dudaba de las lealtades de sus semejantes, además de las suyas.

Víctimas del silencio: (1792).

Punto de fricción: (1796-1812).

Piezas cortas.

Señora mía, o vuestra: (1885).