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#also its been a while since i last draw england or america

if-you-like-pina-colada-s · 1 year

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YO HEY ✨AGAIN✨ BROSKI CAN U SHARE WHO UR HETALIA KINS ARE AND WHY U KIN THEM? I'LL EXPLAIN WHO MINE ARE AND WHY I KIN THEM IN RETURN

ANSKXLKSNSNC HI BESTIE!! YESS ABSOLUTELY!!!

Ok ok, I have 3 Hetalia kins, so:

First we have the one and only Mr. United States of America. Honestly the main reason I kin him, I think, is because I AM American and I swear everytime he does something so painfully American I'm like "damn, lowkey I would've done that too" (my favorite foods are hamburgers I mean cmon). Now I wouldn't say I'm as boisterous as him but I am overly friendly and I love making new friends so I am pretty extroverted! I think we'd have a lot of fun together in real life, we'd share the same level of enthusiasm about the things we like. We'd ramble on and on about things like science and movies and where the best place to get good artisan burgers is at.

Next, we have Mr. Italy (North Italy to be specific). He is very creative and artsy, and so am I!! I adored that part in season 7 where he tried to explain how to make art to England and failed miserably. That's me. He's very bubbly and happy-go-lucky just like me. I bet my ass he's the art kid who gets asked to "draw me next!" To which he just rolls his eyes in response. I also think he's incredibly unhinged and would say the most fucked up shit at random moments and then finish his sentence as if that's completely normal.

Last but not least, Mr. China!! Yall should know, I am a big sister and also the oldest grandchild in the family. So I very much feel like I share the same "eldest sibling" energy with him. He's the responsible older bro who tries to look out for his younger siblings, but isn't exactly the... best sibling all the time. Not exactly parent material, he's just quite literally older brother material. Also, even though he carries a mature, responsible manner, he's still incredibly unhinged at times. He's one of the few characters with actual braincells but he'd still be totally down to commit arson! Its also said he's a huge fan of cute stuff (such as Hello Kitty) and me too!

And of course there's the things the three of 'em have in common:

I feel like all three of them are just silly goofy guys who laugh and joke about the most fucked up shit ever. They're just ever so slightly unhinged.

I also think they're very booksmart, but can't read the room for shit like me.

They're all quite egotistical, while also extremely insecure.

Not to dump my insecurities on yall but... lowkey I suspect these guys have like, MAJOR abandonment issues. They tend to keep their friends and family in a sort of choke hold. It doesn't look like they particularly enjoy being alone or left out. And REALLY take issue with people leaving them.

Again... not to dump things on yall... but they seem a little... idk, maybe a bit adhd to me? Maybe I'm just projecting onto them since I suspect this of myself. (I'm no expert and have never been diagnosed for any sort of neurodivergency. So this is all a "hmm I wonder?" sort of a speculation).

Anyway, they're just so silly goofy.

#hetalia #hws #hws america #aph america #hws china #aph china #hws italy #aph italy #ask #my hetalia kin list #i project onto them so bad #we are on the same wave length #sorry this is a really long post

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xtruss · 1 year

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Former Pakistani President Pervez Musharraf addresses members of Britain's Pakistani community at the New Bingley Hall, in Birmingham in central England Oct. 2, 2010. File photo by Toby Melville/Reuters

Pervez Musharraf, Pakistan’s Ex-president Who Aided U.S. War in Afghanistan, Dies at 79

— World | February 5, 2023 | Associated Press | PBS.Org

Islamabad (AP) — Gen. Pervez Musharraf, who seized power in a bloodless coup and later led a reluctant Pakistan into aiding the U.S. war in Afghanistan against the Taliban, has died, officials said Sunday. He was 79.

Musharraf, a former special forces commando, became president through the last of a string of military coups that roiled Pakistan since its founding amid the bloody 1947 partition of India. He ruled the nuclear-armed state after his 1999 coup through tensions with India, an atomic proliferation scandal and an Islamic extremist insurgency. He stepped down in 2008 while facing possible impeachment.

Later in life, Musharraf lived in self-imposed exile in Dubai to avoid criminal charges, despite attempting a political comeback in 2012. But it wasn’t to be as his poor health plagued his last years. He maintained a soldier’s fatalism after avoiding a violent death that always seemed to be stalking him as Islamic militants twice targeted him for assassination.

“I have confronted death and defied it several times in the past because destiny and fate have always smiled on me,” Musharraf once wrote. “I only pray that I have more than the proverbial nine lives of a cat.”

Musharraf’s family announced in June 2022 that he had been hospitalized for weeks in Dubai while suffering from amyloidosis, an incurable condition that sees proteins build up in the body’s organs. They later said he also needed access to the drug daratumumab, which is used to treat multiple myeloma. That bone marrow cancer can cause amyloidosis.

Shazia Siraj, a spokeswoman for the Pakistani Consulate in Dubai, confirmed his death and said diplomats were providing support to his family.

The Pakistani military also offered its condolences as did Pakistani Prime Minister Shahbaz Sharif, the younger brother of the prime minister Musharraf overthrew in 1999.

“May God give his family the courage to bear this loss,” Sharif said.

Pakistan, a nation nearly twice the size of California along the Arabian Sea, is now home to 220 million people. But it would be its border with Afghanistan that would soon draw the U.S.′s attention and dominate Musharraf’s life a little under two years after he seized power.

President George W. Bush meets his Pakistani counterpart Pervez Musharraf in the Oval Office of the White House in Washington, D.C., Dec. 4, 2004. File photo by Jason Reed/Reuters

Al-Qaida leader Osama bin Laden launched the Sept. 11, 2001, attacks from Afghanistan, sheltered by the country’s Taliban rulers. Musharraf knew what would come next.

“America was sure to react violently, like a wounded bear,” he wrote in his autobiography. “If the perpetrator turned out to be al-Qaida, then that wounded bear would come charging straight toward us.”

By Sept. 12, then-U.S. Secretary of State Colin Powell told Musharraf that Pakistan would either be “with us or against us.” Musharraf said another American official threatened to bomb Pakistan ”back into the Stone Age” if it chose the latter.

Musharraf chose the former. A month later, he stood by then-President George W. Bush at the Waldorf Astoria in New York to declare Pakistan’s unwavering support to fight with the United States against “terrorism in all its forms wherever it exists.”

Pakistan became a crucial transit point for NATO supplies headed to landlocked Afghanistan. That was the case even though Pakistan’s powerful Inter-Services Intelligence agency had backed the Taliban after it swept into power in Afghanistan in 1994. Prior to that, the CIA and others funneled money and arms through the ISI to Islamic fighters battling the 1980s Soviet occupation of Afghanistan.

The U.S.-led invasion of Afghanistan saw Taliban fighters flee over the border back into Pakistan, including bin Laden, whom the U.S. would kill in 2011 at a compound in Abbottabad. They regrouped and the offshoot Pakistani Taliban emerged, beginning a yearslong insurgency in the mountainous border region between Afghanistan and Pakistan.

The CIA began flying armed Predator drones from Pakistan with Musharraf’s blessing, using an airstrip built by the founding president of the United Arab Emirates for falconing in Pakistan’s Balochistan province. The program helped beat back the militants but saw over 400 strikes in Pakistan alone kill at least 2,366 people — including 245 civilians, according to the Washington-based New America Foundation think tank.

Pakistani President Pervez Musharraf’s motorcade is seen after a second assassination attempt in Rawalpindi, Dec. 25, 2003. File photo by Mian Khursheed/Reuters

Though Pakistan under Musharraf launched these operations, the militants still thrived as billions of American dollars flowed into the nation. That led to suspicion that still plagues the U.S. relationship with Pakistan.

“After 9/11, then President Musharraf made a strategic shift to abandon the Taliban and support the U.S. in the war on terror, but neither side believes the other has lived up to expectations flowing from that decision,” a 2009 U.S. cable from then-Ambassador Anne Patterson published by WikiLeaks said, describing what had become the diplomatic equivalent of a loveless marriage.

“The relationship is one of co-dependency we grudgingly admit — Pakistan knows the U.S. cannot afford to walk away; the U.S. knows Pakistan cannot survive without our support.”

But it would be Musharraf’s life on the line. Militants tried to assassinate him twice in 2003 by targeting his convoy, first with a bomb planted on a bridge and then with car bombs. That second attack saw Musharraf’s vehicle lifted into the air by the blast before touching the ground again. It raced to safety on just its rims, Musharraf pulling a Glock pistol in case he needed to fight his way out.

It wasn’t until his wife, Sehba, saw the car covered in gore that the scale of the attack dawned on him.

“She is always calm in the face of danger,” he recounted. But then, “she was screaming uncontrollably, hysterically.”

Born Aug. 11, 1943, in New Delhi, India, Musharraf was the middle son of a diplomat. His family joined millions of other Muslims in fleeing westward when predominantly Hindu India and Islamic Pakistan split during independence from Britain in 1947. The partition saw hundreds of thousands of people killed in riots and fighting.

Musharraf entered the Pakistani army at age 18 and made his career there as Islamabad fought three wars against India. He’d launch his own attempt at capturing territory in the disputed Himalayan region of Kashmir in 1999 just before seizing power from Prime Minister Nawaz Sharif.

Sharif had ordered Musharraf’s dismissal as the army chief flew home from a visit to Sri Lanka and denied his plane landing rights in Pakistan, even as it ran low on fuel. On the ground, the army took control and after he landed Musharraf took charge.

Yet as ruler, Musharraf nearly reached a deal with India on Kashmir, according to U.S. diplomats at the time. He also worked toward a rapprochement with Pakistan’s longtime rival.

Another major scandal emerged under his rule when the world discovered that famed Pakistani nuclear scientist A.Q. Khan, long associated with the country’s atomic bomb, had been selling centrifuge designs and other secrets to countries including Iran, Libya and North Korea, making tens of millions of dollars. Those designs helped Pyongyang to arm itself with a nuclear weapon, while centrifuges from Khan’s designs still spin in Iran amid the collapse of Tehran’s nuclear deal with world powers.

Supporters of former President Pervez Musharraf chant slogans during a protest in Karachi, Pakistan, demanding to remove his name from exit control list so he can travel abroad to visit his ailing mother, April 6, 2014. Musharraf was facing treason charges in a special court in Islamabad at the time. File photo by Akhtar Soomro/Reuters

Musharraf said he suspected Khan but it wasn’t until 2003 when then-CIA director George Tenet showed him detailed plans for a Pakistani centrifuge that the scientist had been selling that he realized the severity of what happened.

Khan would confess on state television in 2004 and Musharraf would pardon him, though he’d be confined to house arrest after that.

“For years, A.Q.’s lavish lifestyle and tales of his wealth, properties, corrupt practices and financial magnanimity at state expense were generally all too well known in Islamabad’s social and government circles,” Musharraf later wrote. “However, these were largely ignored. … In hindsight that neglect was apparently a serious mistake.”

Musharraf’s domestic support eventually eroded. He held flawed elections in late 2002 — only after changing the constitution to give himself sweeping powers to sack the prime minister and parliament. He then reneged on a promise to stand down as army chief by the end of 2004.

Militant anger toward Musharraf increased in 2007 when he ordered a raid against the Red Mosque in downtown Islamabad. It had become a sanctuary for militants opposed to Pakistan’s support of the Afghan war. The weeklong operation killed over 100 people.

Pervez Musharraf addresses the U.N. General Assembly on Nov. 10, 2001, at the United Nations headquarters in New York. An official said Sunday, Feb. 5, 2023, Gen. Pervez Musharraf, Pakistan military ruler who backed US war in Afghanistan after 9/11, has died. Beth Keiser/AP

The incident severely damaged Musharraf’s reputation among everyday citizens and earned him the undying hatred of militants who launched a series of punishing attacks following the raid.

Fearing the judiciary would block his continued rule, Musharraf fired the chief justice of Pakistan’s Supreme Court. That triggered mass demonstrations.

Under pressure at home and abroad to restore civilian rule, Musharraf stepped down as army chief. Though he won another five-year presidential term, Musharraf faced a major crisis following former Prime Minister Benazir Bhutto’s assassination in December 2007 at a campaign rally as she sought to become prime minister for the third time.

The public suspected Musharraf’s hand in the killing, which he denied. A later United Nations report acknowledged the Pakistani Taliban was a main suspect in her slaying but warned that elements of Pakistan’s intelligence services may have been involved.

Musharraf resigned as president in August 2008 after ruling coalition officials threatened to have him impeached for imposing emergency rule and firing judges.

“I hope the nation and the people will forgive my mistakes,” Musharraf, struggling with his emotions, said in an hourlong televised address.

Afterward, he lived abroad in Dubai and London, attempting a political comeback in 2012. But Pakistan instead arrested the former general and put him under house arrest. He faced treason allegations over the Supreme Court debacle and other charges stemming from the Red Mosque raid and Bhutto’s assassination.

The image of Musharraf being treated as a criminal suspect shocked Pakistan, where military generals long have been considered above the law. Pakistan allowed him to leave the country on bail to Dubai in 2016 for medical treatment and he remained there after facing a later-overturned death sentence.

But it suggested Pakistan may be ready to turn a corner in its history of military rule.

“Musharraf’s resignation is a sad yet familiar story of hubris, this time in a soldier who never became a good politician,” wrote Patterson, the U.S. ambassador, at the time.

“The good news is that the demonstrated strength of institutions that brought Musharraf down — the media, free elections and civil society — also provide some hope for Pakistan’s future. It was these institutions that ironically became much stronger under his government.”

— Associated Press writer Rebecca Santana contributed to this report. Gambrell reported from Dubai, United Arab Emirates.

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whatsonmedia · 1 year

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How to watch Qatar 2022 : World Cup Guide

The World Cup's first match between the host country and Ecuador will kick off Qatar 2022 in less than a day. The footballers are putting the last finish on their preparations for a tournament that has generated controversy since it was given to the Gulf nation in 2010. The on-field action is expected to be unexpected and exciting even as off-field topics like the deaths of migrant workers and the conditions many of them faced in Qatar, LGBTQ and social equality, and the fact that alcohol will not be sold in stadiums continue to make headlines. Competition loves Only eight countries—many of which are favorites this time around—have previously won the men's World Cup. Brazil now holds the record for most championships, having won the trophy five times. The new generation has a good chance of adding another title, which would be the first for the nation in 20 years. There is a skill all over the field, not least in defense, where the seasoned Thiago Silva of Chelsea and the talented Marquinhos of Paris Saint-Germain will probably act as a barrier for Allison, the goalkeeper for Liverpool. With 28 of its last 29 games ending in victories or draws and only one loss, against Argentina in the Copa America final in 2021, Brazil too boasts an exceptional record and will be optimistic of progressing to the knockout stages. Its group-stage opponents are Switzerland, Cameroon, and Serbia, all of whom it should easily defeat. France is a necessary component alongside Brazil. The defending champion cruised through qualification without dropping a match, and Kylian Mbappe is developing into a world-renowned athlete. However, several injuries in crucial positions could jeopardize its prospects. On the eve of the competition, star striker Karim Benzema has been ruled out, while midfielders Paul Pogba and N'Golo Kante, who were so important to its success in 2018, are also out. Raphael Varane, a center back, has rejoined the team though, having recovered from an injury. Players to watching The world's top athletes will be on display in Qatar, and for many, it may be their final opportunity to win the coveted trophy. Despite being two of the greatest players to ever play the game, neither Messi nor Cristiano Ronaldo has achieved victory on the largest international platform. Because Ronaldo will be older by the time the next World Cup rolls around—over 40 years old—he has already declared that this will be his final appearance. Both players have a good possibility of doing well in the tournament as they are currently the leading goal scorers in their respective countries. With the majority of its players spending their entire careers in the country's top division, Qatar is a relatively obscure entity in addition to competing in its first World Cup. The attacker, Akram Afif, is the exception. Afif has eight assists in just seven appearances in Qatar's premier league, having made 11 assists during the team's 2019 Asian Cup victory. In the first game, he'll be someone to watch. Japanese player Takefusa Kubo is another emerging star. The playmaker, 21, received his education at some of soccer's most esteemed institutions. Prior to joining Real Madrid in 2019, he spent time in Barcelona's development system. When is that? On November 20, Qatar and Ecuador square off in the tournament opener at the Al Bayt Stadium. The elimination rounds begin the following day, December 3, and the final is on December 18. How do I watch it? Fox Sports Either BBC or ITV SBS Australia Sport TV in Brazil ARD, ZDF, and Deutsche Telekom are in Germany. Bell Media in Canada SABC, South Africa Significant games Here are several crucial dates, including the opening matches of Messi and Ronaldo in the competition and all USMNT group matches. Nov. 20: Ecuador vs. Qatar, 4 p.m., Fox Sports Nov. 21 at 7 p.m., Fox, USMNT vs. Wales Nov. 22: Ten o'clock, Fox Sports 1, Argentina vs. Saudi Arabia Nov. 24: Ghana vs. Portugal, 4 pm, Fox Nov. 25: USMNT vs. England, 7 p.m., Fox Iran vs. USMNT on November 29 at 7 p.m. Dec. 18: 3 pm, Fox, World Cup Final Read the full article

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radioactivepeasant · 3 years

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Fic Prompts: Folklore Friday

Or more precisely, Eldritch Friday, the day when I deliberately retell a Lovecraft story badly.

He’s public domain, he’ll just have to deal with it.

Today’s story: The Unnameable. Let’s see, which unfortunate soul are we reading the statement of today? Annnnnd it’s Randolph Carter again.

Guy didn’t learn his lesson last time, apparently. Statement Begins:

Randolph is, once again, in a cemetery. By his own volition this time, instead of being conned by a “friend”. There’s an old creepy house and some trees nearby that he supposedly used as a setting for a story he wrote at some point. He stares at an old willow and starts waxing poetic about it drawing nutrients from the skeletons below, or some kind of “unnameable” horror. His buddy, Joel Manton, has been putting up with this kind of talk for a while now, evidently, as Carter has become a Weird Fiction author.

I smell a possible Lovecraft expy.

Manton gets on Lovecraft Carter’s case for overusing “unnameable” and “unmentionable” instead of, you know, actually describing your horror. He also bluntly informs Carter that nobody’s been buried there for a very long time -- presumably why nobody minds them chilling on the tombstones -- and the tree just sends its roots into regular old dirt.

Randolph has picked up a bit of an ego, apparently, since his last statement. He disputes Joel’s more Doylist approach to the supernatural, and writes off the admonition as “the futility of imaginative and metaphysical arguments against the complacency of an orthodox sun-dweller”. So of course he gets defensive of his apparently pretentious stories and starts insisting on the existence of the supernatural, despite already knowing that Joel believes in the supernatural. (He just doesn’t think it’s “unnameable” or makes for good penny dreadfuls). Mind you, Randolph is actually a skeptic at this time. He just likes writing about supernatural fiction. (Presumably his previous statement has finally dawned on him as incredibly fishy.)

“”Common sense” in reflecting on these subjects, I assured my friend with some warmth, is merely a stupid absence of imagination and mental flexibility.”

Gee Randolph, you must be fun at parties.

To his credit, Joel doesn’t back down. He’s a teacher, and he’s used to this kind of thing, apparently.

Carter whines about a story he’d published, complaining that it was retracted because of “silly milk-sops” who just didn’t get it, while his readers in New England are described as reading it and going “meh. Not biologically possible, but it’s a nice story.” Carter insists it was based on an account written by Cotton Mather -- historical side note: Cotton Mather was a Puritan minister in colonial America. Known for promoting inoculation, but also for being a strong influence on the creation of the Salem Witch Trials -- and repeated in an ancestor’s diary. Said ancestor claims to have been run down on the road by something with horns, hooves, and “anthropoid paws”.

Now, this could be some kind of New England minotaur, as Carter claims by the bones he says he found in the attic of the old house and buried. But with Carter’s tendency to exaggerate scary things, for all we know his ancestor could’ve wandered straight into some poor ox-cart’s path in the middle of a dark road. Probably scared the snot out of that poor bull.

Joel Manton insists that supposing this creature had existed in Puritan days, it still wasn’t Unnameable because sooner or later somebody had to scientifically classify the thing. Side note I feel like Lovecraft would hate some of the names we give cryptids and that amuses me greatly. Yes we named him Mothman, Howard. No we won’t call him “The Thing” or “The Nameless Horror” or something like that. Carter gets more theatrical with his tale, and actually gets a reaction out of Manton.

It also gets a reaction out of something else that presumably does not appreciate Carter’s storytelling.

Out of the house comes an ice cold wind and -- I kid you not -- the two get run over by a minotaur. They literally wake up in the hospital with hoofprints on their backs like Looney Tunes characters. Randolph “Make Up Stories About The Supernatural Because I’m A Skeptic” has taken a turn into Wile E. Coyote’s neighborhood, and one can hope he learns to stop clamboring around on people’s tombstones after this.

And just like his last statement by Mr. Carter, once again Mr. Lovecraft seems to have a very broad definition of what constitutes “gelatin”.

“It was everywhere -- a gelatin -- a slime; a vapor; -- yet it had shapes, a thousand shapes of horror beyond all memory.”

Howard dear, gelatin and vapor are two very different consistencies. And gelatin doesn’t leave hoofprints on your back when it bowls you over like a semi truck. But I shouldn’t be surprised, considering this man also used “gelatinous” to describe a pack of rats.

Randolph’s statement is, in my opinion, a bit unwieldy. He puts a lot of time into arguing for the spooky, eldritch side of the supernatural, and putting his “friend” down for having “common sense”, and yet he claims to be skeptical of such things. Which is it, Randolph? You certainly protest a lot for someone who thinks it’s all fiction. Sort of strikes me as Randolph making it up in his armchair, nursing a drink and imagining some variation of the debate where Joel experienced something that would make him capitulate to Randolph’s opinions.

But on the other hand, it’s a bit difficult to be skeptical once you’ve had The Incredible Cow Man use you as part of the pavement in the local cemetery, I suppose. We shall have to see what the resident minotaur has to say about the encounter, and whether their statement differs from Mr. Carter’s.

Statement ends.

#folklore friday #eldritch Friday i suppose #hovecraft povecraft lovecraft would view tumblr as one of the mind-breaking eldritch things #hovecraft povecraft lovecraft #hp lovecraft #randolph carter #fic prompts #writing prompts #because you can take Randolph Carter and chuck him into most any situation like a crash test dummy #retelling lovecraft badly

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us-ugay · 2 years

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UsUk concept: they were friends/colleagues-with-benefits during the early and most intense stages of the Cold War but it was their combined jealousy that made them realise they had feelings for one another and they started dating once Alfred wasn't running on the egotistical 'global superpower' high and Arthur was generally more stable.

Add on:

Alfred definitely used and continues to use the term 'special relationship' when someone asks about the closeness of America and UK [England specifically] in geopolitics AND when someone asks how close he and and Arthur are. -☀️

is this the same anon that sent the last two AU ideas in because i love u and thank u for all this good good anonymous content to get me through my boring work days 💕💕💕

ok so 🛑 long ass post alert 🛑 i got rambly and jumped all over the place from point to point so my bad 😬

i always really liked how different ideas even in just the us-uk shipping circles are about when/how those two got together. ive read fics where theyve been fuck buddies since the late 1800s and only got exclusive recently and ive also read fics where they hook up on alfreds bi-centennial, and then even ones where its only recently (like post 00s) where theyve even admited to having feelings for each other and just now exploring that, and its so cool to see everyones personal spin on it.

i also really like when people write about alfreds (while not literally canonical but in reality canonical) fucking ego trip and domineering moves he pulls and how that would play out in his relationships 👁👁 since i have the grace and literacy poise of sack of potatoes, i dont draw or write about darker themes like that because i wouldnt be able to give it the gravity and sensitivity such scenarios deserve but i sure love reading what other, competent people write 😂 and im sure while it wasnt a /healthy/ or /good/ dynamic to be in, arthur still at least got some good d*ck out if it since he seems like he’d get off on hate/angry f*cking

also, even outside of fandom i always thought that the “special relationship” was quite a sweet phrase 🥺 i do my best not to mix actual politics w this stuff but it still warms my cold lil heart to see it encorporated into fics n stuff. just like how in a lot of fan canons have alfred always calling arthur sweetheart, alfred in canonverse would bring up the special relationship w arthur 😭 aint nothing like two relatively immortal beings in a league of their own that historically have had to be selfish and dominating to survive, denying their nature to come together and share such a delicate, loving bond 😭😭😭

started typing out my own headcanon (thats much more flexible now since i dont really GAF about canonverse stuff) but shit got long because the I.R. degree jumped out lol my bad. but tl:dr my old headcanon does align w this one in a few ways and i love that for us anon

also idk how to do readmores on mobile so just scroll ahead if ur on ur phone and dont wanna read this shit whoops

—————

havent been focused much on like canon-verse stuff recently but for the longest time my go-to headcanon was them having that 👀 tension 👀 in the mid-war period as alfred rapidly grew to becoming one of the most powerful players on the world stage and arthur was still in the midst of pretending like he was still in control of the world.

so there was those feelings of jealousy and bitterness from arthur towards alfreds success (meanwhile being hot under the collar because theres no way dude doesnt have some power/control/domination k*nks) and meanwhile alfreds finally coming into his own and sees himself as an equal player to all the former european super powers and gets upset when arthur wont treat him as an equal like the others are

of course then the 2nd bitch hits and knocks arthur flat on his ass and alfred comes in to help and while they navigate through that and the war, the politicians around them are egging “the special relationship” on and after a big ass jumble of emotions n stuff they finally hit their stride of working together as a team and get really close during it. at the end in the midsts of celebration the tension snaps and they finally hook up

then in the after war period, i imagine that theyre not 100% love birds or anything like that, its more of a slightly awkward and private relationship/borderline friends w benefits while theyre still publicly close allies. the relationship begins to really strain during the worst parts of the cold war w arthur finally relinquishing the last of his global power and alfreds increasing paranoia. i feel like there were a few times where they definitely had some falling outs and spats but they always came back because of political means and their shared history

then through the 80s, as the cold war begins to thaw both of them start getting more comfortable and their relationship gets better. then once the iron curtain falls and alfreds the only super power around, their relationship hits the best stride it ever does. they practically fly to each other’s place at least once a month and theyre a full blown romantic pair

then the stress of the 00’s casts a dark mood real quick. i dont feel too comfortable bringing up recent world politics when we’re talking about the fictional country sterotype animes so we’ll leave it at that, but personal issues wise for these two is that alfred is angry and lashing out and arthur is torn between wanting to sooth and be there for him and not like.... enabling and getting too wrapped up in stuff thats not his issues

in the last decade i think things, while not as clingy as they were in the 90s are relatively ok. current global political trends aside and think they were riding a similar wave so there wasnt too much rockiness between them but they were both fairly busy w their own shit so theyll be cutesy when together but they couldnt take much time to have little couples retreats.

nowadays? obviously distance and space apart isnt good for any relationship so i think that while they still love eachother, theyve been much more quippy and snappy w eachother over texts n stuff, but i think once they can meet up again theyll definitely release some of that tension 👀👀👀

but as i said before, this was probably the main headcanon from when i first got into the fandom stupid long ago to like...... idk maybe mid 10s when other fandoms were consuming more of my brain power? and when i “got back into” this fandom (not that i ever left but you know what i mean) ive been more focused on AUs n stuff because then i can get my sweet sweet fix of fully indulgent romance and fuckery without the weird nagging guilt of ignoring the real politics that theyre tied to on the back of my mind lol

however, i still let myself hold room for multiple iterations of headcanons when it comes to the canonverse simply because theres so many ways to interpret their characters/history/interactions/etc and obviously the full scope of the actual events that make this characters to chose from as well and it feels almost shallow to have only one view.

#thank u for the ask anon #i looked back as i was finishing up hopping from place to place and realize i didnt much talk about what you brought to the table my bad :(#ill make more smaller posts since this one was long enough #and also ive been typing away at my phone too long too lol #but it certainly helped to pas the afternoon hahahhaha #luv u kisses n all that

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helloprettybb · 4 years

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swindler’s trick

Here’s a periodical fic set in 1870, five years after the Civil War and takes place in England. Inspired by Wuthering Heights and Pride and Prejudice, I tried to mimic the language but probably messed up. This is a Steve x stark!reader and Tony is Anthony because of the time period. Also, the reader is 20 and Steve is 31.

Summary: Steve Rogers needed to clear his head. Haunted from the war and his past relationship, Steve sets sail for England to reunite with an old friend and hopefully distract himself from his life in America. His distraction comes in the form of a beautiful young girl, who proves to be a worthy interest, but will she be enough to help Steve move on from his past?

Warning: poor attempt at victorian era vernacular, victorian standards, fake history, age gap

Word count- 10.6k

Stark’s manor is as ridiculous as the man himself. The large, four-story house resembles a castle with its multiple chimneys and towering peaks. The red roof is angled perfectly to deflect the normally gusty winds. Luckily for Steve, his arrival was met with a slight breeze and shining sun; a complete juxtaposition to the harshness of early Spring.

Nevertheless, Steve isn’t the least surprised as he steps into the extravagant manor. If Steve thought the stone exterior was showy, then the interior was just unnecessarily grand. There were two large staircases that each met on the beautiful marble floors. Steve looks up and sees an intricate chandelier with crystals placed to look like falling rain.

Steve was so taken aback by the architecture that he didn’t notice the man standing at the door. He looks to be in his mid to late 50′s, with gray, balding hair. He stands tall and Steve assumes he’s the butler.

“Hello, sir. My name is Steve Rogers. I sent a letter saying I’d...” Steve tries to explain, but the man cuts him off.

“Ah, Mr. Rogers. Anthony said he’d be expecting you. You can wait in the parlor.” the butler promptly says and walks away. Still caught off guard, Steve doesn’t notice the butler walk away until he’s at lease twelve paces away. Steve looks around confusedly, wondering where the hell the parlor is.

He wanders down a couple hallways and finally comes across what looks like a parlor. There are two single couches with a long, two-person couch in the middle. In the corner, there’s a grand piano that hardly looks touched. Above the stone fireplace, there’s a portrait of Anthony as a child and who Steve assumes are his parents. His father looks like a much sterner version of him and his mother holds a slight resemblance to him. Steve takes a seat in one of the chairs.

It feels like hours until Steve hears his name being called. He practically jumps to his feet and stands at attention. Then he looks and realizes it’s just Anthony. “At ease, soldier.” he jokes and Steve rolls his eyes.

“It’s been a long time, Stark.” he replies and walks over to shake Anthony’s hand. “It’s good to see you.”

“Likewise.” Anthony replies, a genuine smile gracing his face. He gestures to the chairs and says, “Let’s sit.” Anthony takes the seat closer to the entryway while Steve takes the other. “Tea?”

“No, thank you.” Steve responds.

“It’s good to see you, Steven.” Anthony starts. It’s hard to believe they started as tentative allies and are now the closest of friends. Throughout the war, they had their differences, especially since Steve was a captain and Anthony was his First Lieutenant. But when the Civil War was coming to a close and the Union began steadily beating the Confederacy, the two men began to see eye to eye and became the strongest of friends. It saddened Steve when Anthony returned to England, but at least he had Margaret, or so he thought.

Steve replies, “Likewise, Anthony. I see you’re getting on well.”

“My wife would have to disagree. I’ve been in the workroom so often, she’s threatened to board the door shut.” Anthony jokes.

“Well either way, you seem perfectly adjusted.” Steve comments.

“Perfection is relative, old friend. You’ll understand when you find it.” Anthony advises wisely and as if on cue, an angel walks through the doorway. Well, not literally, but you are the closest thing to a saint on earth.

With your smooth hands and polished nails, you don’t look like a servant, but for your status, you dressed rather simply. As opposed to a large, decorated dress, you donned a dark, modest gown. You dressed closer to a middle-class maiden than a noblewoman, yet Steve took note that no outfit could diminish your beauty. Instead of the intricate up-dos, he’s seen many high-class women wear, you have your hair down and pulled back.

Anthony notices your entrance and greets, “Y/n, dear!”

Steve knew Anthony favored beautiful women, but he did not expect for him to marry someone so young. Steve’s seen his fair share of older men and young partners, but he didn’t think Anthony would be that kind of man.

Strolling up to Anthony, you greet him lovingly by placing a gentle kiss on his cheek. Turning to Steve, you acknowledge politely, “Hello, sir. To what name shall I call you?” The moment you address him, Steve forgets every word in the English language. His mouth runs dry and he starts to regret denying Anthony’s tea offer.

Your stunning beauty and air of confidence fluster Steve and he manages to stutter out, “I- I am Captain America Rogers. I mean, Steve Rogers.” Attempting to recover, he clarifies, “I’m from America and I served as a Captain in the Army.”

You laugh lightly and Steve could have sworn an angel acquired its wings. “Well, Captain America. I appreciate the background information, but I figured from your accent that you were not from here.” you quip.

Anthony glares as you and gently scolds, “He is an old friend, y/n. Please be nice.”

You smile softly and tell him, “Oh papa, I hold no malice. It was a simple jest.” You turn to him and say, “But if any offense was taken, I do apologize. I’m aware that my tongue can be quite scathing.”

Steve realizes that Anthony is your father. He feels foolish and a little disgusted at his previous notion. But now that he knows, he can see the resemblance. Not particularly in appearance, but in attitude. You both carry yourselves in the same charming, self-assured way, like you’re the smartest people in the room.

“No need to apologize, miss. I can handle a sharp tongue,” Steve’s formal tone dropping relatively quickly. Your eyebrow quirks and a small smile plays at your lips.

If you were caught off guard, you didn’t show it as you quickly respond, “Good, but do not worry. I can soften my tongue if the situation requires it.” Anthony shoots you another look, but you pay no attention, keeping your eyes on the American. Steve feels your eyes bear into his, but he can not break your gaze. His heart flutters for the first time in what felt like forever.

Anthony clears his throat to break the growing tension. “Y/n, didn’t you say that Miss Natasha was taking you into town?” You turn to your father and smile.

“Why, thank you, father. If it weren’t for your keen memory, I would have gotten a lashing!” you kiss his cheek and walk over to Steve. “I apologize that our meeting had been cut short. I do hope we see each other again,” You kiss him on the cheek too and Steve prays that his face doesn’t burn on the spot.

His eyes follow you as you walk out of the parlor and out the door. “If you wish to court my daughter, all you have to do is ask,” Anthony states in an unamused tone.

Steve’s eyes snap back to the older man and he quickly explains, “Oh no, that is not my intent, Anthony. Besides, she’s your daughter.”

Anthony scoffs and replies, “She’s of marrying age and can do as she pleases. My only request is that you warn me.” Steve tries to counter him, but Anthony stands. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to finish.” He gestures to the man at the door and says, “Mr. Jarvis will show you to your room.” With that, Anthony leaves Steve alone with Mr. Jarvis.

Steve quickly learns the routine of Stark’s manor. Without Anthony’s wife, Pepper, and their daughter, Morgan, you and your father mostly kept to yourselves. Anthony stays in his workroom downstairs and would remain for hours on end, only appearing upstairs for meals.

You spend most of your time in the library and occasionally walk the grounds. Steve doesn’t know what restrains him from joining you on your walks, especially since you granted him an invitation during his first dinner.

Instead, he opted to observe you. He’s learned a great deal over the past few days. You chose to wear plain dresses and favored colors on the darker end of the spectrum. You and your father enjoyed battles of wit during meals with most occasions ending in a draw. You were very curious, or at least, toward Steve. You asked him a multitude of questions and even though Steve was happy to answer, Anthony shot your line of questioning down with a quick glare.

You read often, usually books on philosophy and tales of heroism over religion and spirituality. When you read, your lips would get caught between your teeth and you’d occasionally mouth some of the words. Steve could tell when you disagreed with a passage because your smooth forehead would slowly wrinkle as your eyebrows furrowed. Besides meals, the library was the only time Steve would spend with you. But unlike dinner, the two of you would sit in silence, just basking in each other’s company.

Nearly a week into his stay, Steve, out of stupidity or bravery, decides to join you on a walk. When you see him at the doorway, you remark, “Captain America! To what do I owe the pleasure.”

“I decided to take you up on your offer. I hope I am not too late being as it was last week,” he remarks cheekily.

You smile happily, “Oh, do not worry about that, sir. Besides, your invitation was set to expire tomorrow.”

“That’s good news, but I must ask, will that cursed nickname be going away any time soon?” he jokingly asked.

Smiling, you reply, “No, it will not.” Stepping out of the manor, you question, “Shall we go?” Steve nods steps out, moving to your left side.

You start your usual walk around the grounds. The sun beams down on your face making your skin almost glow. Steve’s never been this close and he can see every detail on your face. If he thought you were beautiful from afar, he doesn’t know what to think now.

“How long are you staying here?” you ask, turning to Steve for the first time.

He sighs and absentmindedly replies, “I don’t know, actually.” His answer causes your head to tilt and brow furrow slightly so he reassures, “Don’t fret. While Anthony has granted me an eternal stay, I shall leave before the year ends.”

You shake your head lightly and explain, “Oh, I don’t worry, Captain America. I’m just curious as to why you’re uncertain.” Steve averts his eyes, unable to meet your intense, innocent ones. You seem to read his nervous body language so you change the topic.

“We don’t get visitors very often,” you comment. Steve relaxes a little and you add, “All I know is that you’re an old friend of my father’s.”

He answers the unspoken question by saying, “He was my first lieutenant in the Civil War.”

“Ah, I remember him telling of his time in America,” you remark. Steve’s eyes return to yours. He can see the excitement and eagerness as you ask, “What is it like? America?”

Steve doesn’t know where to begin. From the bustling city life to the beautiful countryside, America is a diverse place. But then the memories come back and Steve hopes you can’t read the flash of sadness that spreads across his face.

“Well, it is very beautiful,” Steve says simply. He can tell by your excited expression that you crave more, so he adds, “In some places, there are hills as far as the eye can see. There are also forests so dense that you cannot get through without a map.”

You seem satisfied with his answer and dreamily add, “I wish I could visit, but father forbids me from going beyond the moors.”

Steve senses your disappointment and tries to cheer you up, “The moors aren’t too bad, Miss y/n.” He looks around at the scenery, searching for something to point out. He stops by the garden and hastily proposes, “The flowers are quite beautiful if you ask me.”

You let out a small laugh at his half-hearted attempt and concede, “Yes, I suppose that’s true.” You sigh a little sadly, remarking, “But it gets quite lonely up here.”

Steve couldn’t control his thought process and lost even more control of his mouth as he asks, “I hope I do not come across as rude when I ask why you have not wed yet.”

He already regrets his intrusion, but luckily, you don’t seem offended. “It isn’t rude, Captain America.” With that, he can see that you are in a joking mood. “Men want a woman with open ears and a closed mouth. Seeing as I have neither, men do not try and pursue me.”

You smile back at him, but unlike your usual smile, it doesn’t reach your eyes. Steve decides not to pry and comments, “While I do agree your mouth is rather liberal, I’d have to disagree about your ears.”

Your smile finally reaches your eyes again and you laugh, “Tell my father that.”

“Well, Anthony never was the most patient listener.” Steve states to which you clearly agree, if your loud and genuine laugh had anything to say about it.

Once your laughter dies down, you turn the subject to him, “And what about you?”

“What about me?” Steve questions, raising an eyebrow.

“No wife? Surely a military man such as yourself would have a mistress at least,” you comment curiously. Looking down, Steve smiles and shakes his head.

“Women were mostly found in the tents of upper-class men,” Steve replies ambiguously. He feared that if he dug too deep, it’d only dredge up his past. Maybe he was imagining it, but your knowing look made Steve think you understood his vagueness.

The two of you continued your walk in peaceful silence. You broke the silence by asking, “You mentioned that women were reserved for upper-class men,” Steve nods in confirmation and you continue, “Am I to assume you are not of high status?”

Steve explains, “I was baseborn. In the Army, I quickly rose through the ranks which in turn, granted me a higher status.”

Steve fears your impending judgment, but instead, you go quiet and confess, “I was baseborn, too,” You avert your eyes as if it were a terrible secret.

“How so?” Steve questions, now completely intrigued. When you saw he only held curiosity, you returned to your relaxed state.

“My mother was a village girl. Father had an affair and when grandfather found out, he became furious. Father was forbidden from seeing my mother, but little did he know, that he impregnated her on their final tryst.” you tell, searching for any disgust in Steve’s eye.

Steve tilts his head curiously and asks, “Is that why Anthony came to America?”

You smile at his interest and reply, “Partially. He always wanted to leave, but the death of his parents pushed over them edge. He was only seventeen and didn’t think he could run the business himself. He would have stayed in America if it weren’t for Obadiah Stane.”

“Who?” Steve questions.

“He was the second in line for the company. My father didn’t just leave the house behind, but the business. Father secretly suspects Stane killed his parents, but that’s neither here nor there.”

“Where’s Mr. Stane now?” Steve asks.

“He’s in prison for embezzling money.” you reply.

“When Father received word that Stane’s business practices were less than humane, he had to come back. Being the sole heir, father was able to reclaim his title as lord of the house and owner of the company.”

“How did he find you?”

“With his father gone, he decided to reunite with his former love, but when he discovered her dead and me in her place...” You look off to the distance as if you’re trying to find the right wording, “He was surprised, to say the least.”

Lightening up, you add, “Luckily, he met Pepper shortly after and they wed quickly. Then, they had Morgan and they lived happily ever after,” you end a little sarcastically.

Steve hums in understanding and asks, “Surely, it was difficult for you to adjust to life here.”

“It still is. I’ve lived at the manor for nearly five years and I still forget frivolous things like which spoon is which.” Steve laughs heartily in agreement and you join in at a quieter tone.

“It is rather odd, isn’t it? A spoon is a spoon, what difference does it make!” he exclaims. This makes you burst into a very unladylike laugh, but you don’t care and neither does Steve. For once, it feels like you both met someone who understands you.

After the first walk around the moors, Steve has joined you on every other one since. Your topics ranged from philosophy to politics. Although he never cared about politics, Steve found himself captivated by your ideas. It saddens him a little that the world may never experience your brilliant mind.

To Anthony’s delight or dismay, you wordlessly invited Steve to your usual dinner banter. Although he is constantly left speechless and outwitted, Steve enjoys being talked into a corner. He loves the small smile and look in your eyes when you know that you have someone beat intellectually.

Tonight’s discussion had something to do with Descartes. Steve got lost the minute you brought up dualism and metaphysics. You’re in the middle of explaining how mental phenomena are non-physical when Anthony interrupts, “Mr. Rumlow will be joining us this Easter.” Your teasing smile drops and is replaced by a scarily sober expression.

Through gritted teeth, you ask, “Why?” Reading your body language, Steve can tell there’s something more beneath the surface.

“It’s business, dear.” Tony sighs exasperatedly. Steve can’t tell if he’s annoyed with you, the mysterious Mr. Rumlow, or both.

“And for how long?” You start cutting your food more aggressively than before.

“He failed to mention it, but I presume a quite long time,” Anthony responds and you scowl.

“May I be excused? I feel rather ill,” you announce but leave before waiting for a response. Steve feels an urge to follow you but is stopped in his place when his friend speaks.

“Do not mind her. She sees Rumlow as more of a fiend than a man,” Anthony says absentmindedly once you leave the room.

Trying to hold back any snark, Steve comments, “I could see that,” Anthony doesn’t reply, but from his small smirk, Steve knows that his sarcasm bled through.

They finish their dinner in silence. Once his plate is empty, Anthony gets up and leaves without saying a word. Steve glances at your mostly full plate and figures you must be hungry. Eating one last bite, he scoops up your plate and walks up the steps to your room.

After a few faint knocks, you open the door. You still hold the look of contempt that you had at dinner, but at the sight of Steve or the food, you brighten up. “Thank you, Steve. I am absolutely famished, but I did not want to face my father again.”

You move away from the doorway and subtly invite him in. He hands you the plate and you sit on the edge of your bed. Steve pulls the chair from under your desk and turns to face you. While you eat, he asks, “In fear of angering you more, may I ask why Rumlow’s name caused such trouble?”

You set your plate down and tell Steve sincerely, “Our families have been business partners for decades. I don’t think father is too fond of him either, but he has to keep acquaintance with him.”

Taking another bite, you continue, “His wife died years ago, and ever since, he’s looked for a wife in yours truly.”

“I take it he doesn’t handle rejection very well?” Steve suggests. For the first time since your sudden exit, you smile.

“No, he does not. Don’t get me wrong; rejection can be delightful, but it can only happen so many times before it becomes tedious,” you respond, lightening up even more. Steve gives a short laugh and gets up to leave so you can finish your meal. You ask quietly, “Can you stay?” Even adding, “Please?” Steve sits back down wordlessly and keeps you company.

“Y/n!” the little girl squealed as she ran from her mother and to you. Picking her up off her feet, you wrap Morgan into a hug.

“How was the visit to your grandmother’s?” you ask happily. Steve hasn’t seen you this genuinely happy and giddy. He can see that you care about Morgan deeply. Today, you chose a lighter-colored dress with more embellishments and a larger petticoat than usual. Steve assumed it was Morgan’s favorite color since your dress matched the ribbon in her hair.

When you see Pepper approaching, you set Morgan down and greet your step-mother. “Pepper! We have missed you.” you exclaim, hugging her more reservedly.

“Please tell me that Anthony spent most of his time outside the workroom,” Pepper jokingly begs, even though she probably knows the answer.

You laugh politely and reply, “I would, but you know I mustn't lie, step-mother.”

Pulling away from you, Pepper turns to Steve and asks, “You must be Captain Rogers. Anthony wrote that you were staying with us.” She plants two light kisses on each of Steve’s cheeks.

He’s about to tell her to call him by his first name when you speak up, “Please, step-mother, he goes by Captain America.” He looks at you and sees the mischief in your eyes.

Pepper glances at Steve curiously and he explains, “It is a wretched nickname she has given me.” Pepper nods understandingly, knowing her step-daughter’s quirks.

Morgan asks impulsively, “Are you courting my sister?” Steve’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise and Y/n bursts out laughing, dropping any attempt at civility.

Pepper can’t decide who to scold first, so she chastises, “Morgan, dear! We do not ask people questions like that,” Pepper tells Steve, “I do apologize, Captain. She is not even five years old.”

“No need, Mrs. Stark.” Steve dismisses with a wave of his hand.

You speak up, “Besides,” Crouching down to Morgan’s level, you whisper something to her. Steve strains his ear to listen, but can’t make out a single word. Pepper gives you a look when you stand back up.

Instead of prying, Pepper decides, “Let’s get inside before you corrupt Morgan any further.”

“Oh, do not worry, dear step-mother. There will be plenty of time for that,” you say cheerily. Morgan and Pepper stroll inside while Jarvis brings their bags inside. When the door closes, you tell Steve, “I assume you want to know what I whispered in Morgan’s ear.”

“The thought did cross my mind,” Steve jokes back. You smile and move toward him. Going on the tips of your toes to be near his height, you look like you’re about to spill.

Pressing your lips to the shell of his ear, you whisper, “It’s a secret between sisters, Captain.” Moving back to the bottoms of your feet, you turn toward the door, but not before giving him a cheeky wink. Oh no, Steve Rogers is falling in love.

Morgan and Pepper’s return seemed to lift your spirits enough to distract you from Rumlow’s impending arrival. You squeezed time with Morgan into your schedule, consequently lessening the time you and Steve spent alone. He didn’t mind, after all, she is your sister, but Steve couldn’t help but feel a little envious.

Luckily, Morgan has grown quite fond of him. She includes him with as often as she can. Today’s activity is a tea party.

“Miss y/n, will you pour the tea?” Morgan asks, imitating her mother’s posh accent and miserably failing. You smile and rise from your seat.

“Anything for you, duchess,” you respond. Picking up the teapot, you walk around the table.

Moving to fill Morgan’s teacup first, you begin to pour when she holds up a hand and commands, “Stop, please.” You and Steve struggle to contain your laughter as Morgan, with her pinkie in the air, lifts the cup to her mouth.

She holds back from making a face and announces, “Delicious!”

“Why thank you, duchess.” You walk over to Steve and pour tea into his cup. You’re so close that Steve catches a whiff of your perfume. The closeness makes it hard for him to concentrate. He knows you can feel him looking, but don’t say anything, sending him a small, cheeky smile.

You pour your own cup of tea and before you could raise your cup, the clock on the wall chimes loudly. Turning to your sister, you question, “Duchess Morgan, don’t you have studies to attend to?”

Morgan pouts and replies, “I don’t need them.” You laugh heartily and crouch next to her.

You reason with her, “Morgan, your studies are very important. You don’t want me to become smarter than you, do you?” She concedes and hops off her chair before running out of the room.

Watching her leave to make sure she doesn’t run back, you stand up and sit back in your chair. You take a sip of tea and notice Steve is looking at you dotingly. “What?” you ask, laughing into your cup.

“Nothing, it’s just that you’re a really good sister.” Steve comments. You scoff lightly at his compliment.

“Thank you, Steve. But it’s not difficult when she’s such a good kid,” you reply and Steve nods in agreement. For some reason, Steve can’t help but imagine you as a mother. You’d probably read to them before bed and when you were done, you’d go to him. The two of you would share a bed like husband and wife and you’d never have to worry about pompous suitors or ridiculous social expectations. He’d hold you in his arms like he yearned to do the moment you met.

Steve’s thoughts are interrupted when he hears cursing at the other end of the table. He looks up and sees your skirt covered in tea. “Are you alright?” Steve asks.

You laugh out of embarrassment and reply, “Yes, I just spilled tea all over my skirt. Can you hand me the cloth over there?” You point to the towel near him and Steve grabs it. Instead of handing it to you, he squats in front of you and dabs your skirt clean. If you had any protests, you didn’t say them as you sat patiently and let him dab your lap.

Steve continues to clean in silence when you interrupt absentmindedly, “You know, Morgan is one of the few people who don’t look down on me.” Steve’s hand stops and he looks up at you. You’re looking away from him and you have a distant look on your face.

“Why is that?” Steve asks, causing you to laugh lightly.

“Well, how couldn’t they? I’m a peasant girl born out of wedlock.” you roll your eyes, but Steve could see some hurt behind them. He places the towel on the floor and moves his hand so it’s covering yours, which are resting on your abdomen. You don’t retreat, which surprises Steve.

The intimate moment is broken up by Mr. Jarvis walking into the room and announcing, “Miss Stark, your father requests your presence.”

It’s a fair, sunny day so after days of begging from Morgan, Anthony finally conceded and decided that the whole family will attend the Spring Awakening Fair. Stepping onto the grounds, you look ethereal in your light, flowy dress.

“Let’s go before father buys Morgan the whole fair,” you announce, grabbing Steve’s hand without any hesitation. Steve feels his heart do a flip before he follows you away from Pepper, Anthony, and Morgan. Strolling around, you light up when you see a medium’s booth.

Raising an eyebrow, Steve asks skeptically, “You believe in psychics?”

“Nope,” you reply happily and before Steve could process your answer, you pull Steve’s hand and half-drag Steve to the booth.

“Hello, miss. Would you and your betrothed like to have your auras read?” the medium asks. Before Steve could correct her, you interject.

“Yes, please.” You sit down and Steve follows suit.

“Hold each other’s hands and stare into each other’s eyes.” the medium instructs. Steve grabs your other hand and turns to face you. He’s never allowed himself to look at you for so long, but now that he’s technically supposed to, he gives himself a pass just this once. Steve takes in every detail of your face so that he can remember every feature when he goes to sleep. Maybe if he collects the perfect picture, you will invade his dreams more often.

“I’m sensing...” the medium starts and Steve could see you struggling to hold back laughter. Luckily, the woman’s eyes are closed as she continues, “You miss, have an indigo aura. Yes, yes. You are a kind and intuitive person, who values intelligence and love. You seek peace in your life and while you’re a little vulnerable, your partner can help with that.”

Steve didn’t believe in psychics, but that was a pretty accurate assertion. So that the psychic can’t hear, Steve mouths, “That was quite accurate, was it not?” You scrunch your nose and shake your head. Before you could mouth back, the medium continues.

“You sir, have a blue aura. I see...” the medium says, “Mostly royal blue, with hints of dark blue. You are open-minded and generous, but the hints of dark blue show that you are scared.” You tilt your head in confusion and Steve shrugs.

“Something has happened in your life to cause distrust and a need to control. Perhaps your partner could help clear the dark blue from your aura. You two have very compatible auras. Sometimes, you miss, will feel overwhelmed, but your partner’s calming aura shows that he will be able to soothe you. I expect the two of you to have a long and loving relationship.” the medium finishes and opens her eyes.

You notice that she opened her eyes so you nod enthusiastically and say, “Thank you! That was very eye-opening.” You drop a few coins into the jar and walk away from the booth.

Once you are out of ear-shot, Steve asks, “Do you believe it?”

“Hm?” you ask, initially confused, then you realize, “Oh, the medium? No, no.” you shake your head as if you’re trying to get rid of the notion itself. “The idea that auras follow us around is illogical.” Steve hummed in agreement, but if he squinted, he could almost see an indigo halo around your head.

“Is that y/n y/ln?” a voice says behind Steve. He turns and sees a young man. Steve wonders how he knows you but judging from the look on your face, you aren’t pleased to see him. The man approaches and you quickly don a fake smile.

“Aldrich Killian!” you announce overenthusiastically. “It’s been so long.” Aldrich pulls you into a hug that lingers too long in Steve’s opinion. He finally pulls away after what felt like hours.

“It really has. How are you?” the man asks. He’s small and fidgety like he’s scared of the mere existence of you.

“I am amazing. May I remind you my surname is Stark?” you ask teasingly, but Steve can see the tension beneath your eyes.

“Yes, how could I forget! You became your father’s charity case.” Killian replies, smile bright as before, but his words still cut sharply.

The insult doesn’t phase you as you match his tone, “Well I’d rather be his charity case than be stuck with the likes of you.”

Aldrich doesn’t respond and instead turns to Steve. He asks, “And who is this?”

“Captain Steven Rogers.” he introduces, maintaining his stoicism. Aldrich grabs Steve’s hand with both hands and shakes it aggressively.

“It is great to meet you, sir.” Aldrich states. After a few violent shakes, he finally releases Steve’s hand.

He apologizes, “I’m sorry for taking up your time, y/n.”

He starts to walk away and you call, “Hey, Killian!” He turns back around and you drop your smile. “Please give Steven’s watch and my necklace back.” Steve looks down at his wrist and realizes that his watch really is gone. Aldrich comes back and Steve watches as Aldrich’s sheepish act disappears and is replaced by contempt. You hold out your hand and Killian drops the jewelry into your palm.

“See you’ve taken on the family business,” you taunt, “How is your father, by the way?” Aldrich scowls and Steve assumes that whatever happened isn’t good. Your hand on Steve’s wrist snaps him back to attention. You hold his wrist up so you can put his watch back on.

“You’ve gotten better, Killian. But your hugs still linger too long and you shake men’s hands too fiercely.” you comment absentmindedly as you clasp Steve’s watch around his wrist.

“Oh, y/n. I only linger that long for you,” Aldrich comments creepily. Steve sees your smile falter slightly before returning, a little smaller.

“Whatever you thought we had simply didn’t exist.” You grab Steve’s arm tightly and tell Killian, “We better head back to the manor,” You turn around to leave Aldrich alone before he gets one final word in.

Killian yells behind your back, “You can put on a fancy dress and expensive jewelry, but you’ll always be one of us.”

You hand Steve your necklace and ask, “Can you put this on for me?” Steve nods and you turn your back to him. He finds it harder than it should be to clasp the necklace, but the intense smell of your perfume is slowly overwhelming his senses.

To ground himself, Steve asks, “How did you know he stole from us?”

“It’s a common swindler’s trick.” you state. You feel the chain drop onto your neck and you turn to face Steve. You continue, “You greet the person enthusiastically to give yourself time to steal. While you’re stealing, you distract them with flattery and small talk. They don’t even realize they were robbed and by the time they do, you’re far gone.”

Steve is stunned by your extensive knowledge and bluntly says, “You know a lot about that.”

You laugh and admit, “Let’s just say, I have some experience.” You, a thief? He could just imagine a younger you going around picking pockets, distracting people with your effortless charm.

Steve furrows his brows and asks, “Were you like him?”

“Oh, heavens no. At least, not that bad. I knew who to steal from who not to.”

“And who deserved theft?” Steve asks, not out of judgment but actual curiosity.

“The usual. Rich arseholes who treated anyone of a lower socioeconomic status like dirt.” you answer casually.

“So you were a Robin Hood?” Steve jokes.

“Sure, but only for a short while. When my grandmother found out, she was furious and banned me from meeting Killian. In hindsight, that was one of the best decisions she’s ever made, but at the time, I was heartbroken.” you explain.

“What made you change your mind about him?” Steve questions.

“I saw the vile ways he treated women he sought after.” you answer simply. There is probably more to that response, but Steve decides he shouldn’t pry.

Instead, he nods and holds his arm out. “Come on, let’s trick some more psychics.” You smile and grab his arm.

“Y/n, dear. Rumlow will be here any minute. Are you ready?” Anthony calls upstairs. Steve’s standing beside him at the bottom of the stairs. The days after the fair had been amazing. You and Steve spent incalculable amounts of time together. He was surprised that no one mentioned it since you aren’t officially courting. Your spirits were extremely high, until this morning when you remembered who was arriving.

“Yes, father. Be down soon.” you respond back. Anthony huffs exasperatedly and goes toward the parlor, leaving Steve alone at the base of the stairs. He hears shuffling and a couple thumps upstairs, before you yell, “Okay, I’m ready.” he turns and his breath is taken away.

Steve Rogers is a simple man. He’s straightforward, hard-working, and sharp. These traits helped him through school and shot him up the ranks in the Army. He became one of the youngest captains in the Union army. He battled Confederates, god damn it!

But... you’re so beautiful. Sauntering down the stairs, you look like an angel coming down from heaven. Steve takes in your appearance. Your dress is a deep green color that matches the jeweled choker around your neck. The large skirt is a stark contrast to your usual demure day dresses and Steve’ realized yet again that your beauty is ever-present. No matter your wardrobe, the essence of you shines through. Your hair is higher than normal, with elegant curls resting on your shoulders. The chandelier above your head only adds to the natural glow of your aura. He could hear the light tapping of your heels on the grand marble stairs until you took your final step before him.

“Hi,” you greet meekly as if you’re the one that’s intimidated.

Steve, in his rather plain-looking dress clothes, replies, “Hi,” Steve’s eyes linger a little longer than seems appropriate, but you don’t appear to mind, in fact, doing the same thing in return. Your silent exchange is broken by the sound of horses outside.

“Sir, Mr. Rumlow is here.” Jarvis calls, alerting your father who strolls in from the parlor. Steve catches a look of disgust grace your face before it quickly changes into a wide, fake smile when the door opens.

“Mr. Rumlow.” Antony greets, holding out his hand.

“Mr. Stark.” Rumlow shakes his hand in return. As they exchange pleasantries, Steve looks the man up and down. He looks to be about Steve’s age, maybe a tad older. He has harsh, dark features that only further Steve’s already tainted view of the man.

“And who must this be?” Rumlow asks, turning to Steve.

“Captain Steven Rogers,” he responds and Steve could’ve sworn he heard you chuckle quietly after using his rank. Maybe that was low of him, but he was still quite wary of Mr. Rumlow.

“Pleasure to meet you.” The exchange is short before the man turns to you. Almost like a wolf who’s spotted his prey, Rumlow’s eyes darken and his slightly genial smile resembles more of a snarl.

“Miss Stark. Why, you look more and more beautiful every time I see you.” Rumlow compliments. You give a quick curtsy, smile dropping ever so slightly. Steve’s hands ball into a fist quickly before he forces himself to relax his hand. “I am surprised a man hasn’t made a bride of you yet.” Steve had to will his feet to stay or else the dinner party would have ended embarrassingly quick.

“Well, a woman’s role isn’t just to marry, is it?” you reply, still holding that bright, wide smile. Rumlow laughs as if you said a joke, but Steve knows the sincerity behind your words. His disgusting laugh further cements Steve’s idea that Rumlow is not a good man.

Anthony, seeming to sense the burgeoning tension, announces, “Dinner will be ready shortly. Shall we?” Everyone follows him into the dining room, with Rumlow charging forward before anyone even had the chance to move.

Entering the dining room, Steve sees that Rumlow has already taken the spot beside Anthony. Steve sits across from Rumlow and you sit beside him. After the wine is poured, Steve grabs his chalice and takes a slow sip. He watches as Rumlow takes one long swig before requesting more. You and Steve share a look of both amusement and concern, knowing where the night is headed.

Anthony and Rumlow start to talk business so to save yourself from boredom, you talk to Steve. “I wish Morgan were here.”

“Yes, if it weren’t for her cursed bedtime.” Steve replies jokingly to test what mood you are in. You roll your eyes, signaling to Steve that you’re at least somewhat yourself.

“I know Pepper isn’t much of an admirer of Rumlow either, but it’s a shame that she was granted an invitation out of this.” you admit a little glumly.

“Well fear not, Y/n. You still have me.” Steve encourages and you shoot a smile back. You and Steve continue to talk quietly until your conversation is intruded by plates being placed in front of the two of you.

Rumlow’s lack of table manners is extremely apparent as he gorges on the food. You stifle a laugh by lifting your napkin to your lips, but Steve catches you and bites his lip to contain his laughter. Dinner is fairly uneventful, while Anthony and Rumlow continue to talk and you and Steve share stories. It’s almost as if the two of you are alone on a date until you’re interrupted by your father.

“Y/n, after dessert, would you mind showing Mr. Rumlow around the manor?” Anthony tells, more of a command than a request.

Attempting to keep your tone light, you reply, “But father, hasn’t he been here before. I’m sure the manor hasn’t changed too drastically since he’s been here last.”

Before Anthony could respond, Rumlow interrupts, “Oh but Miss Y/n. I would love to refresh my mind on all the beauties this place has to offer.” Something about his wording and his intense gaze toward you angered Steve and he felt his grip tighten around his fork.

Pretending to give in and not still be utterly repulsed by the idea, you concede, “Well, okay. I look forward to it.” Rumlow nods and continues down to his dinner plate. Steve looks over at you, but your gaze is down. Steve decides to leave it alone when he feels a soft hand reach for his own. You still aren’t looking over at him, but your brow is furrowed slightly as you eat. Steve encompasses your hand in his and it appears to ease the tension slightly.

Steve doesn’t let go of your hand for the rest of eating, opting to hold his silverware with his left hand instead. The other men don’t appear to notice, as Rumlow’s mind is only on the excursion he was promised. Sadly, after dessert is taken away, Steve has to release your hand as you and Rumlow leave the dining room.

Watching you leave, Steve gets an uneasy feeling and quietly excuses himself before walking out. He tries outside first and it doesn’t take long before he’s alerted of your presence.

“Get your hands off me you loathly poltroon!” Steve hears you yell. He turns the corner and sees Rumlow grasping your wrist tightly with no intent to let go. Without thinking, Steve runs toward you and shoves Rumlow away.

“You disgusting rapscallion! Is that how you treat a lady?” Steve bellows angrily and punches Rumlow in the face. Turning to you, he softens instantly and questions, “Are you okay, Y/n?”

You break your disgusted look at Rumlow and tell Steve, “Yes, let’s just please leave.” Steve ushers you away. You don’t say anything as you stomp towards the gazebo.

Steve could feel the anger emanating from your body. For the second time, he asks, “Are you sure you are okay? Because that man is-”

“Do you know why filthy men like Rumlow seek me out?” you interrupt angrily. Steve’s never seen you so mad, but now he knows to never cross you.

Continuing, you shout, “It’s not for my brains or my character, but my dowry. To them, I’m just a prize to be won! Did you know that my estate is worth a small country? But since I’m a woman, all of my fortune will be a man’s, and every single one I have come across thinks it will be them.”

Once you get that off your chest, you start to settle down. Sitting down on a bench, you hang your head a little and state, “All anyone sees is an inheritance with a pretty face.”

Not knowing what to say, Steve removes his jacket and sits beside you on the bench. Your once intricate up-do is falling around your face, which is good in Steve’s opinion since he never liked that hairstyle in the first place. The bottom of your skirt is muddy from walking through the grass. “I’m sorry.” Steve meekly apologizes while handing you his jacket. You thank him quietly and throw it around your shoulders.

Removing your shoes spitefully, you scoff, “It’s not your fault all upper-class men are greedy little pricks that only care about their appearances.” Steve lets out a noise, resembling a snort more than a laugh. He knew that far too well from his time in the Army. Even though the higher rank came with privileges, Steve occasionally wished he was still a private, realizing there were too many poncy majors and captains.

“If it’s any consolation, I think there’s a lot more to you than your money.” He hears you sniffle, but your eye line remains down.

“Thank you, Steve.” you reply, eyes still down and watery. Your head hangs down in dejection.

Sensing your sadness, Steve asks, “Would you like to hear why I actually came to England?” Your eyes move up to his and you sit up straight, nodding quietly. Steve sighs and begins his story, “During the war, I met a woman named Margaret Carter. We had a brief courtship and married quickly, but since I was mostly in battle, we hardly saw each other.”

Steve sees that you’re actively listening so he continues, “I thought I had met my soulmate, but I was young. A fool, really.” Steve looked down, finding it difficult to continue the story.

He clears his throat and tells, “Marriage would not be easy and I knew that. But I did not predict its difficulty until I truly experienced it.”

“Did you fight?” you ask quietly, breaking your silence.

“No, but that would have been preferable. War affects everyone differently, y/n. You have to understand that. I was withdrawn, avoidant and I- I just became a different man and...” Steve trails off, scared of your reaction.

You place your hand on his and assure, “I promise, Steven. Nothing you can say, could change the way I see you.” You’re listening intently, eyes wide with eagerness to hear his story.

“I was away very often. After the assassination of Lincoln, I was offered a position as head of security for the next president. She said it was okay, but...” Steve feels you hold his hand tighter, grounding him. “During my long bouts of absence, it was only natural that she found someone else. She continued her tryst for nearly two years before she informed me.”

“How did you react?” You ask quietly, your faint voice cutting through Steve’s foggy recollection.

“That’s the issue. I didn’t react much at all. I simply left and stayed with my close friend until the divorce settled. It was long and tiring, taking over two years. Nobody knew the true reason for the separation as we feared out tarnished reputations. Months later, I learned from an old friend that Peggy was to engaged to be married with that man. I knew I couldn’t be in the same place when they wed, so I left.” Steve stayed quiet and you followed suit for a couple moments.

“I’m sorry.” you apologize, like you were the problem. Sympathy etched onto your face and soft, delicate features turned down with sadness.

“It’s not your fault,” Steve reminded with a small smile to lighten the mood a bit. You bit your lip, drawing attention to them and reminding Steve just how much he yearns to kiss you.

“I know, but still. I don’t see how a man like you deserved such hardship.” you shed a tear and Steve is touched by your empathy toward him. Gently wiping the tear off your cheek, Steve boldly keeps his hand rested on your face. You don’t seem to mind, looking up at him through your slightly wet lashes.

“But if it weren’t for that trouble, I would have never met you.” As if the spirit of Cupid himself possessed Steve, he boldly confesses, “Darling, I would endure ten times the hardship if it meant I could meet you.” Steve felt a pang of fear, worried that he came on too strong and risked losing your friendship. But if the small gasp and softening of your eyes indicated anything, then you liked it. Now’s your chance, Steve. You look so sweet, so raw, so perfect.

Steve feels the atmosphere shift as he leans toward your face, his thumb softly brushing your lip. You mirror his body language and lean towards him too. As if the universe were pulling the two of you together, Steve could feel himself fall into your sweetness; your auras melding with each other. Steve is inches away from your lips when he hears the clanking of hooves in the distance and instantly, the magic dissipates.

The two of you break apart instantly as if nothing was about to happen. You smooth out your dress and clear your throat. Steve wants to stay. He really does, but he knows the kinds of rumors that could emerge if he’s alone with you any longer.

“We better go inside,” Steve suggests and you nod. Getting up, you leave the gazebo before him and he follows suit.

Much to Steve’s delight, Rumlow immediately left for home. After talking to an angry and frustrated Anthony, Steve walks up to his room. Walking up the stairs, he glances at your room and is almost tempted to go in, but he forces himself to turn the other way.

He can’t believe he almost kissed you. You were so close and your lips felt so smooth under his finger. Oh, how he wishes they were against his own. Steve wonders if he will ever have another chance or perhaps, you may try to forget it altogether. Steve feels like such a fool for letting himself fall so hard. But how couldn’t he when you’re just so... you.

Steve hears a knock on the door and answers, “Come in.” When he sees you step through, he stands to his feet. His jacket is slung around your right arm. You’ve changed into your nightdress which is covered by your robe to preserve your modesty. Still, Steve makes a point to keep his eyes on yours.

“Here’s your jacket.” you say meekly, still standing by the door. Steve walks over to grab it from you. His fingers brush against yours and he yearns to lace his in yours but refrains from doing so.

“You could have waited till morning to return it.” Steve states honestly, trying to not jump to conclusions as to why you came at such a late hour.

“I know,” you reply simply. Steve hangs the coat on the coat hanger beside you and closes the door, just in case anyone happens to walk by. You’re still standing as if you’re expecting something.

Steve stands before you, but you don’t retreat, instead, looking up at Steve. “Rumlow has left for town,” you inform him. He knows and you know that he does, but he assumes you only said that to break the palpable tension.

“Yes, I heard he sent for a carriage the moment he hit the ground,” Steve half-jokes. You let out a short laugh, one to show him you read the humor but it was enough to tell him you didn’t feel it. He can feel your uneasiness from the way your hands are fidgeting to the constant flickers of your gaze to the ground. Your usual confidence is replaced with insecurity and unsureness.

“Shall we talk about what was about to happen?” you question. Thank the heavens that you are the one who brought it up, for Steve doesn’t think he has the assuredness to do it himself.

“Yes, I suppose we should,” Steve remarks. He’s about a foot away from you, but he could feel himself yearn to move closer. “I hope I did not bring you discomfort. I simply had to ease the weight on my soul,”

You shake your head and respond, “No, Steven, it was welcome really. I just wish we weren’t interrupted.” Your candidness startles him slightly. While you’ve never been mistrustful, he’s never seen you this open.

“Those damn horses,” Steve says, lightness entering his voice. You smile the widest he’s seen you smile since Rumlow arrived.

“Yes, if it weren’t for those wretched creatures...” you drift off as if there is a thought in your mind that you’re too reserved to say out loud. Steve takes a step towards you and brings your hands up to his. You gladly take them and Steve feels your delicate fingers slip into his perfectly like they were always meant to be there.

“May I do this?” Steve asks, almost like he’s asking himself. You nod, biting the corner of your lip lightly. You look like you’re having an inner battle of sorts and before Steve could decipher the turmoil, he feels your hands grip his shirt and pull him towards you. Steve realizes just in time as you capture his lips with yours.

The kiss is desperate and heated, but not devoid of love and yearning. Steve feels like his whole life has led up to this and in a way it had. He moves his hands down towards your waist and pulls you flush to his body. You let out a startled gasp, but continue to kiss him as passionately as before. Your hands are still gripping his shirt harshly, but he couldn’t care less. He never liked this shirt very much. You pull away a little to catch your breath. Your cheeks are flushed and lips are a little plumper and Steve can’t stop the pride from swelling in his chest at the thought that it’s his doing.

“I apologize. That wasn’t very lady like,” you tell him breathily, smoothing your hands over his shirt. He may or may not appreciate the way your hands linger over his chest for a few extra seconds.

Steve smiles and says, “Frankly, my dear, I don’t really care.” He reconnects your lips with the same vigor as when you initiated it.

The next morning, Steve wakes in his bed alone. He wanted to let you stay the night, but he knew the uproar that would be caused if your lady’s maid found an empty bed. Walking down to breakfast, Steve sees that you’ve made it down first and have already begun eating. Looking up from your eggs benedict, you give him a small, knowing smile which he returns. Luckily your father doesn’t notice anything as he continues to read the paper.

Steve takes his usual seat across you as a full plate is set in front of him. He starts to eat, occasionally sneaking glances toward you. He can’t get the image of your speckled pink cheeks and wet lips out of his mind and he hopes he never does.

With about two-thirds of his plate empty, Steve hears a sharp knock on the door, followed by the door opening. He can make out Jarvis ask, “Mr. Parker?” before he hears footsteps come toward them while Jarvis continues, “Sir, they are dining at the moment, if you would wait-” Before Jarvis could finish his statement, a young man enters the dining room. He looks to be about your age, maybe a bit younger. Judging by the instant joy on your face, you know him well.

You immediately stand up and exclaim, “Peter!” Your fork almost clattering on the ground in the process. You have no hesitation when you run over to the boy, whose arms are open and inviting. Steve watches as Peter wraps you in an embrace. Guiltily, he feels a pang of jealousy when he sees you in the young man’s arms, but forces the feeling away.

“Y/n, I’ve missed you!” Peter replies happily and releases you. Steve’s displeasure must be apparent because he catches Anthony smirking beside him.

“I’ve missed you, too. When did you come in? How is Cambridge?” you ask excitedly. Your giddiness is apparent as you fire questions at Peter, but the boy doesn’t seem to mind.

“Oh, I’ve missed you too! I took the first train from Cambridge the moment break started,” Peter rambles happily, “As for school, it’s truly amazing, y/n. The classes are rigorous and I’ve met the smartest men.”

“None smarter than me, I hope.” you jest, and Peter laughs along. The two of you seem really close. Steve can’t help but wonder if there’s more beneath the surface. You said that no man was courting you, but maybe it’s because you were waiting.

“Of course not. I’ll never meet a person with more wit than you.” Peter compliments. Anthony clears his throat behind you and Peter turns to his mentor.

“Oh, except you, Mister Stark.” he tries to recover, but Anthony doesn’t buy it. Nonetheless, he hugs the boy reservedly, a stark contrast to your embrace. Steve, who only stood up out of courtesy, feels like a stranger witnessing a family reunion until the boy turns to him.

“Captain Rogers!” Peter exclaims, quickly walking over to Steve. He grasps his hand and gushes, “I am a huge admirer. Your siege of Fort Beauregard is simply inspiring.” He’s shaking Steve’s hand wildly and if it weren’t for the underlying feeling of jealousy, he’d find it endearing.

“Why, thank you.” Steve replies curtly, causing your eyes to flicker over to him. You raise an eyebrow, seemingly suspicious to Steve’s behavior, but Peter doesn’t appear to notice.

“So, where are you staying?” Anthony asks. Peter releases Steve’s hand and turns to his mentor.

The boy’s face goes red and he stammers, “I-I thought I could stay here. I apologize for not writing ahead. My excitement got the better of me and I figured that a surprise would be enjoyable, but I see how this could be abrupt and uncalled for and I understand if you wish to have me leave, but my aunt-” He’s caught off by Anthony’s laugh.

“I only jest, Peter. I forget about your testy nerves. Of course, you may stay.” Anthony assures as Peter’s chest falls in relief.

“Shall I show him to his room?” Jarvis asks, standing at the doorway.

“No need, I’m finished with breakfast. I will do it. Come, Peter.” Anthony beckons the boy, who immediately deserts his position in front of Steve and goes to the older man’s side in a matter of seconds. They leave and Jarvis follows behind them.

“You can stop clenching the tablecloth, Captain. Peter left.” you joke, turning your attention to Steve. He looks down at his hands and sees the white fabric bunched between his fingers.

“I wasn’t.” Steve responds meekly, sitting back down. Scraping his plate, he clears his throat and says, “So, um, Peter is a nice fellow.” You burst out laughing and walk over to Steve.

“Are you jealous?” you ask teasingly. Steve rolls his eyes to contain his annoyance at how right you are.

“No, I’m just curious about your relationship with him.” Steve says. It’s quite obvious that he’s full of it, but you have mercy on him and avoid further teasing.

“He was my best friend in the village. When father found me, I convinced him to help Peter with his education. He’s quite bright, but sometimes acts like a total dolt.” you explain. Steve eases a little at your explanation.

“So, you’ve never considered courting him?” Steve asks sheepishly and you laugh again.

“No, of course not! Besides, he’s engaged to Miss Jones.” you tell him. Steve fully relaxes into his seat. “Also...” you start, taking the seat next to Steve and turning to face him. “A different man has stolen my heart.”

“Oh, and who must that be?” Steve plays along.

“His name is Captain America,” you tell him and Steve gives you a pointed look, which you ignore. “He’s strong, smart, funny.”

“Is he handsome?” Steve turns slightly so that he can face you head-on.

“Devastatingly so,” you reply. Steve takes a quick glance around the room to see if you’re really alone before capturing your lips with his. The kiss is brief and sweet, unlike last night’s passionate affair, but it still affects his heart the same.

It’s a lazy day spent under the large oak tree. At mid-day, the weather has decided to give its mercy, holding back its usual treacherous winds and low temperatures that accompany spring.

Your head is resting on Steve’s lap as you read, your knees propped up and your book resting on your royal blue skirt. Steve strokes your hair gently, occasionally brushing over the loosely tied indigo ribbon. His navy jacket is discarded a few feet away from him and his white sleeves are rolled up to his elbows.

The two of you have announced your courtship to the family last week, although it has felt it’s gone on since Steve first arrived. You’ve stolen his heart, whether you intended to or not. Steve never thought he could be so smitten with a person, but how could he not be. Your charm and beauty grow tenfold every time he’s with you. And now that he knows you share the feeling, he has no hesitations in the showing of his affections.

“Come to America with me.” Steve says, speaking for the first time in a half-hour.

“Pardon?” you ask as if you can’t believe the words he just uttered. You sit up and face Steve. Closing your book, you move your full attention to him.

“Come to America.” Steve repeats. “I have some business I have to attend to and you’ve always said you wanted to go.”

“Yes, but Steve. What would people say if an unmarried man and woman went away together?” you ask, not caring yourself but knowing the weight of everyone’s judgment would be too great to bear.

“But we wouldn’t have to worry about that. Y/n, I have loved you since the moment we met and it would be an honor if you made me your husband.” Your jaw looks like it’s about to approach the floor, so he continues.

“We could build a house on the plot of land down the road so you can still be by Morgan. It would not be as extravagant as this, but it would be enough.” Steve finishes hurriedly. You’re still silently gawking and Steve’s heart starts to rise anxiously. “My dear, please say something so I don’t think I’ve gone mad.”

“Oh Steve, I’d love to!” you exclaim, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him against your body. With your face buried in his neck, you confess, “You have brought me more joy in these past months than in all my years.”

Steve moves away to face you. The smile on your face is unmatched and his heart soars at the idea that you will be his forever. “I love you, my dear.”

You lean closer so that your foreheads are touching. Whispering against his lips, you retort, “I love you the most.” Before Steve could protest, he feels you grab his neck lightly and press your lips against his. Steve cups your cheek gently as he kisses you back. The taste of herbal tea and the smell of your perfume invades his senses. He’ll never get sick of kissing you.

The two of you go inside and announce your engagement to the family. The celebration dominates the rest of the day and unbeknownst to Steve, his dark blue jacket still lays beneath the oak tree and it was never seen again.

#steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #steve rogers imagines #steve rogers imagine #marvel #marvel imagines #marvel fanfiction

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duhragonball · 3 years

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Hellsing Liveblog, Chapters 20-24

By garn, it’s been a while. This ‘ere’s the “Age of Empire” arc, followed by two one-offs, “Call to Power” and “Ultima Online”.

Last time, Hellsing sent Alucard, Seras, and Pip Bernadotte to Rio de Janeiro, Brazil to find out more about Millennium. But Millennium was expecting them, and sent Tubalcain Alahambra to attack Alucard almost as soon as he arrived.

Recall that the only reason Hellsing knew to check Brazil was because of a tip offered up by their Catholic counterpart, Vatican Section XIII, the Iscariot Organization. Iscariot knew about Millennium because they had discovered that the Vatican had helped them move men and materials out of Nazi Germany and into South America. Which brings us to this chapter, which is a flashback showing how Iscariot found out in the first place.

The date on this chapter really helps me understand all of this, because when I watched this scene in the anime, I thought it was taking place in the present. But no, this is set back in July, barely a week after Seras became a vampire. Note that Bishop Maxwell already knows a great deal about this by this point. He’s not talking to this guy to learn more, he’s confronting him about the crimes he’s already discovered.

This rando bishop he’s talking to was one of the guys who helped Millennium during World War II. He claims to have been deceived, but Maxwell knows the truth: that he and the others helped Millennium because they knew they were secretly researching vampires, and wanted in on some sweet, sweet vampirism.

This is a recurring theme in Hellsing, where Millennium gets a lot of help from various patsies by promising to make them immortal. Dandyman got all those SWAT team guys to help him by promising immortality to their superiors, and I have a sneaking suspicion that Dandyman himself was just a rube that joined Millennium thinking it was a path to greater power, when in fact they only sought to use him as a test of Alucard’s abilities. And so it was with the treasonous bishops in the 1940s. They helped Millennium move to South America, but their research in Europe was destroyed by Hellsing during the war. And the above page shows us our first look at young Walter, before he retired to the life of a butler.

And now we see Heinkel Wolfe, the star of “Cross Fire”, Kouta Hirano’s three-issue manga about gun-toting assassin nuns. “Cross Fire” was featured as backups in the first three collected volumes of Hellsing, which works out nicely, so we can recognize Heinkel as she debuts in this story. She executes this bishop for his unspeakable crimes against the church.

And really, it is a pretty horrific thing that this guy did. I mean, I thought about it the other day, how this guy’s pretty high up there in the ranks of the Catholic church. He doesn’t just go to Mass on Sundays, he’s devoted his whole life to the faith, and then he just turns his back on it as soon as there’s a hint of a chance that he could become an immortal vampire. And then it falls through, so he spends the next several decades just sort of hoping no one will find out what he did. It’s a pretty dark thing, though it’s easy to overlook in a whole series of dark moments.

Back in Brazil, the news media and authorities still can’t make any sense of the Alucard/Dandyman battle. Alucard and his pals escaped in a news chopper and Al must have hyp-mo-tized the pilot to cover their tracks.

Meanwhile, the mysterious guys who were watching the Dandyman from afar, well they head back to their secret lair. The Major is the guy in the glasses, and the Captain is the guy in the big coat. There’s also the Doctor, who sort of defies description, but we’ll deal with him later. It was the Major who ran the vampire research project back in the 1940s, and the Doctor who conducts all the research. The Doctor had been pretty confident about all the powers he gave to the Dandyman, and was dismayed to see Alucard defeat him but the Major doesn’t mind at all, because he’s got plenty more vampires to throw at this particular problem.

They board a blimp, the Graf Zeppelin III, bound for Jaburo, Brazil. I looked up the Graf Zeppelin to understand the reference, and it turns out the first two were aircraft carriers, not blimps. These were planned during the 1930′s as Nazi Germany began to re-arm for World War II, but by the time the war actually started, Hilter had lost interest in the project, and the German Navy focused instead on U-boats. Both Graf Zeppelins were left uncompleted, so maybe this blimp is named after them as a reference to abandoned Nazi projects that could be revived somehow. As for Jaburo, I looked that up and only found references to the Gundam franchise, so I’m pretty sure this is just a fictional town.

Meanwhile, Alucard and his team check into a motel, and he calls home to report that he successfully absorbed Dandyman’s memories when he killed him and drank his blood. He now knows everything Dandyman knew about Millennium. Integra orders him to return to London immediately, as the Queen of England herself wants to know what’s going on here. Al wants to know if Tegs enjoyed all the violence he caused in Rio, but she’s like “stfu.”

Up to now, Seras and Pip had been scouting around, trying to find some way to get out of the country, but there’s no planes and no ships available. They were, at least, able to bring back some McDonald’s. Wait... MacDooolnald’s. See? Giorno drives his vampire dad to MacDooolnald’s, but Seras goes out and gets it and brings it back for Alucard, because theirs is a much healthier relationship.

But Al wants to steal a plane. Pip and Seras don’t take this well, but now I finally see why Al is suggesting this. He was ordered to return home at once, so this seems like the only way.

Then Alexander Anderson shows up and starts punching the shit out of Al, because why not?

Everybody draws their badass weapons to escalate the fight, including Seras, who picks up her giant cannon, but Anderson just thinks it’s funny, and it snaps him out of his fightin’ mood long enough to explain why he’s here.

Seems the Vatican wants to get Alucard back to London as well, so they sent Anderson to tell them about a private plane they arranged just for this purpose.

Meanwhile, in Jaburo, the Major reports back to his “superiors”, but he refuses to explain what he was doing in Rio. The Major claims he’s under special orders from Hitler, and these orders supersede all other command structures. Basically, all these colonels and generals have little choice but to sit back and watch Millennium operate without them. The Major gives them only a thin veneer of respect, and barely at that.

Enter Zorin Bltz, a lieutenant in Millennium, who explains it neatly for the reader. The Major set up all this Millennium stuff after the war, only for these other officers to show up on their doorstep later, probably seeking refuge in the postwar world. They know there’s vampire stuff going on here, and they want to be vampires too, but the Major isn’t interested in that. I guess he figures if he turns them into vampires, they would try to pull rank on him.

But the old timers are also extremely curious about the Major’s goal. He’s used the research to create a thousand vampire soldiers, but what for? The Major explains that he’s out to “savor the joy of war.”

Let me pause here to talk about werewolves. Millennium also has at least two of those: the Captain, and Chief Warrant Officer Schrödinger. As he returned to Jaburo, the Major asked Schrödinger about “the other werewolves”, and he said they would be along shortly, but we never actually see those guys. Unless Zorin Blitz and Rip van Winkle are supposed to be werewolves, but I’m pretty sure they’re not.

On the plane ride back to England, Alucard has a dream, reliving his defeat at the hands of Abraham van Helsing a century earlier.

In London, everyone’s waiting for him to show up, including representatives from the Vatican. Heinkel wonders if maybe Anderson flubbed his mission to give Alucard the plane, but Maxwell explains that they had to send Anderson to Brazil, because he knows Anderson is loyal to a fault. If they sent just any old operative, there’d be too great a risk of that guy defecing to Millennium for a taste of that sweet vampire power.

Then Alucard finally shows and pays his respects to the Queen of England. Let’s face it, this is Elizabeth II, I don’t care how the art hides her in silhouette. This story depicts her as being such an old woman after all this time, but it’s 2021 and she’s still alive today. Alucard praises he beauty. I get the impression he finds human aging to be something precious in his eyes.

Alucard explains what we’ve already been over: That Millennium is the new name for the culmination of that Nazi vampire research project in the 1940s. Alucard and Walter put an end to the project in 1944, but the Major somehow escaped and kept going.

Then Schrödinger appears in the room, to the shock of everyone. He claims that he is “everywhere”, a talent which allows him to show up anywhere in spite of security. He claims to be an envoy from Millennium, and sets up a Zoom call with the Major.

Basically, the Major declares war on Hellsing and Great Britain, and on Alucard specifically, by name. He has no goal, which is basically another way of saying that he wants to fight war for its own sake. There’s no strategic objective to any of this. The Major finally has his army of vampire soldiers, and now he wants to take them out into the field and see what they can do.

Oh, also he has his “superior” officers brutally executed on the video feed, which seems kind of dumb, since neither Hellsing nor Iscariot knew about any of those guys. Ties things up nicely for the reader, I guess.

Alucard is overjoyed at the prospect of destroying the Major all over again, and Integra orders him to kill Schrödinger while Seras shoots the Major’s iPad. Then QE2 orders Integra and Alucard to destroy Millennium, like they hadn’t already been workin on that.

And yeah, there we are.

#2021hellsingliveblog #hellsing #alucard #seras victoria #sir integra hellsing #alexander anderson #pip bernadotte #the major #the captain #enrico maxwell #heinkel wolfe #zorin blitz #dammit i'm not gonna tag every single character you figure out who i missed

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sciencespies · 3 years

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Our Ten Most Popular Stories of 2020

https://sciencespies.com/nature/our-ten-most-popular-stories-of-2020/

Our Ten Most Popular Stories of 2020

SMITHSONIANMAG.COM | Dec. 30, 2020, 7 a.m.

The year 2020 will go down in history as one of the most extraordinary in modern recollection. A devastating pandemic dominated conversations and our coverage, which detailed why the race for a coronavirus vaccine runs on horseshoe crab blood, explained how to avoid misinformation about Covid-19 and drew lessons from the past by examining diaries penned during the 1918 influenza pandemic. This summer, when a series of protests sparked an ongoing reckoning with systemic racism in the United States, we showed how myths about the past shape our present views on race and highlighted little-known stories about the lives and accomplishments of people of color. Toward the end of the year, amid one of the most bitterly divisive elections in recent history, we delved into the lengthy debate over mail-in voting and the origins of presidential concession speeches.

Despite the challenges posed by 2020, Americans still found reasons to celebrate: Ahead of the 100th anniversary of women’s suffrage, we profiled such pioneering figures as Geraldine Ferraro, the first woman nominated as vice president by a major party, and Fannie Lou Hamer, who fought to secure black voting rights. In the cultural sphere, the discovery of dozens of intact Egyptian coffins thrilled and amazed, as did the reemergence of a long-lost Jacob Lawrence painting. From murder hornets to Venice’s new inflatable floodgates, Catherine the Great and the Smithsonian’s new open-access platform, these were Smithsonian magazine’s top ten stories of 2020.

Our most popular story of 2020 underscored the value of skillful art restoration, presenting a welcome counter to the many botched conservation attempts reported in recent years. As the National Museum of Scotland announced this December, experts used a carved porcupine quill—a tool “sharp enough to remove … dirt yet soft enough not to damage the metalwork,” according to a statement—to clean an Anglo-Saxon cross for the first time in more than a millennium. The painstaking process revealed the silver artifact’s gold leaf adornments, as well as its intricate depictions of the four Gospel writers: Saint Matthew as a human, Saint Mark as a lion, Saint Luke as a calf and Saint John as an eagle. Per writer Nora McGreevy, the cross is one of around 100 objects included in the Galloway Hoard, a trove of Viking-era artifacts found by amateur treasure hunters in 2014.

Curators used an improvised tool made of porcupine quill to gently clean the cross, which features engravings of the four Gospel writers.

(National Museums Scotland)

While most of England was on lockdown during the Covid-19 pandemic, archaeologist Matt Champion unwittingly unearthed more than 2,000 artifacts beneath the attic floorboards of Tudor-era Oxburgh Hall. Highlights of the trove included a 600-year-old parchment fragment still adorned with gold leaf and blue lettering, scraps of Tudor and Georgian silks, and pages torn from a 1568 copy of Catholic martyr John Fisher’s The Kynge’s Psalmes. Detailing the find in an August article, McGreevy noted that British nobleman Sir Edmund Bedingfeld commissioned the manor’s construction in 1482; his devoutly Catholic descendants may have used the religious objects found in the attic during secret masses held at a time when such services were outlawed.

In March, when the world was just beginning to understand the novel coronavirus, researchers learned that the SARS-CoV-2 virus—the pathogen that causes Covid-19—survives for days on glass and stainless steel but dies in a matter of hours if it lands on copper. (In later months, scientists would find that airborne transmission of the virus carries the greatest risk of infection, rather than touching contaminated surfaces.) The metal’s antimicrobial powers of copper are nothing new: As Michael G. Schmidt, a microbiologist and immunologist at the Medical University of South Carolina, told writer Jim Morrison this spring, “Copper is truly a gift from Mother Nature in that the human race has been using it for over eight millennia.” Crucially, copper doesn’t simply dispatch unwanted pathogens at an incredibly fast rate. Its bacteria-combating abilities also endure for long stretches of time. When Bill Keevil and his University of Southampton microbiology research team tested old railings at New York City’s Grand Central Terminal several years ago, for instance, they found that the copper worked “just like it did the day it was put in over 100 years ago.”

The Asian giant hornet, the world’s largest hornet, was sighted in North America for the first time.

(Washington State Dept. of Agriculture)

Another unwelcome surprise of 2020 was the rise of the Asian giant hornet, more infamously known as the “murder hornet” due to its ability to massacre entire hives of bees within hours. The first confirmed sightings of the insects in North America occurred in late 2019, but as Floyd Shockley, entomology collections manager at the Smithsonian’s National Museum of Natural History, pointed out in May, observers need not panic, as the hornets don’t realistically pose a threat to human health. Honey bees are more susceptible to the predators, but as Shockley said, “[I]s it going to be global devastation? No.” Still, it’s worth noting that officials in Washington state have since found and eradicated a nest thought to contain about 200 queens. Left unchecked, each of these hornets could have flown off and started a colony of its own. Efforts to contain the invasive species are ongoing.

In October, an engineering feat saved Venice from flooding not once, but twice. The barrier system of 78 giant, inflatable yellow floodgates—known as Mose—can currently be deployed to protect the Italian city from tides measuring up to three-and-a-half feet high. Upon its completion next year, Mose will be able to protect against tides of up to four feet. The floodgates’ installation follows the declaration of a state of emergency in Venice. Last year, the city experienced its worst floods in 50 years, sustaining more than $1 billion in damages and leaving parts of the metropolis under six feet of water. Built on muddy lagoons, Venice battles both a sinking foundation and rising sea levels. Despite the floodgates’ current success, some environmentalists argue that the barriers aren’t a sustainable solution, as they seal off the lagoon entirely, depleting the water’s oxygen and preventing pollution from flowing out.

While Hegra is being promoted to tourists for the first time, the story that still seems to get lost is that of the ancient empire responsible for its existence.

(Royal Commission for AlUla)

Desert-dwelling nomads turned master merchants, the Nabataeans controlled a broad swath of land between the Euphrates River and the Red Sea for some 500 years. But in the millennia following the civilization’s fall in the first century A.D., its culture was almost “lost entirely,” wrote Lauren Keith in November. Today, little written documentation of the Nabataeans survives; instead, archaeologists must draw on clues hidden within the empire’s ruins: namely, two monumental cities carved out of rock. One of these twin settlements—the “Rose City” of Petra in southern Jordan—attracts nearly one million visitors each year. But its sister city of Hegra remains relatively obscure—a fact that Saudi Arabia hopes to change as it shifts focus from oil to tourism. As several scholars told Keith, the Middle Eastern nation’s renewed marketing push represents a chance to learn more about the enigmatic culture. “[Visiting] should evoke in any good tourist with any kind of intellectual curiosity,” said David Graf, a Nabataean specialist, archeologist and professor at the University of Miami. “[W]ho produced these tombs? Who are the people who created Hegra? Where did they come from? How long were they here? To have the context of Hegra is very important.”

The May killing of George Floyd spurred nationwide protests against systemic injustice, acting as a call to action for the reformation of the U.S.’ treatment of black people. As Smithsonian Secretary Lonnie G. Bunch wrote in a short essay published in June, Floyd’s death in police custody forced the country to “confront the reality that, despite gains made in the past 50 years, we are still a nation riven by inequality and racial division.” To reflect this pivotal moment, Smithsonian magazine compiled a collection of resources “designed to foster an equal society, encourage commitment to unbiased choices and promote antiracism in all aspects of life,” according to assistant digital editor Meilan Solly. The resources are organized into six categories: historical context, systemic inequality, anti-black violence, protest, intersectionality, and allyship and education.

Human relationships can be difficult, but at least they don’t involve copulating until your inner organs fail. Yes, you read that correctly—death is the unfortunate fate for the male antechinus, a pint-sized marsupial that literally fornicates until it drops dead. Take similar comfort in the fact that humans don’t need to drink urine to start a relationship, as is the case with giraffes, nor inseminate each other via open wounds, as bed bugs do.

youtube

Today, stories of Catherine the Great’s salacious, equine love affairs dominate her legacy. But the reality of the Russian czarina’s life was far more nuanced. Ahead of the release of Hulu’s “The Great,” we explored Catherine’s 30-year reign, from her usurpation of power to her championing of Enlightenment ideals, early support of vaccination and myriad accomplishments in the cultural sphere. As Meilan Solly wrote in May, “Catherine was a woman of contradictions whose brazen exploits have long overshadowed the accomplishments that won her ‘the Great’ moniker in the first place.

For the first time in the 174-year history of the Smithsonian Institution, the organization released 2.8 million images from across all 19 museums, 9 research centers, libraries, archives and the National Zoo into the public domain. This initial release represents just two percent of the Smithsonian’s total collection, which boasts 155 million items and counting. It was part of an ongoing effort to digitize—and democratize—the Institution’s collections.

• An excerpt from Jennet Conant’s new book, The Great Secret: The Classified World War II Disaster That Launched the War on Cancer, in which she details how an investigation into a devastating Allied bombing of an Italian coastal town eventually led to an innovation in cancer treatment.

• A time-capsule story from the end of March about how and when we thought the pandemic might end. We were too optimistic about how long Americans would need to “flatten the curve,” and unmentioned in the story was how soon a vaccine would be developed.

• Another entry in our “True History of” series that looked at Tom Hanks’ World War II film from earlier this year, Greyhound

• An exploration of new research that rewrites the demise of Doggerland, a prehistoric land bridge between Britain and Europe

#Nature

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aph-honk-kong · 4 years

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Draw A Circle That’s The Earth, I’m In Hetalia - Review (Chapter 2)

Eight months ago, @hetafic-hell published a review of chapter one of “Draw A Circle That’s The Earth, I’m In Hetalia!”. I decided to write a review of the second chapter, since they’ve been on hiatus for so long. But before I begin, I must offer a warning: this chapter is five thousand five hundred words long, and is not divided into any paragraphs. It’s also awful. Proceed at your own risk.

3 months later.

It is not possible to show the passing of time through the story instead of putting it down explicitly?

I'm at a different meeting hall my nation had all its citizen's return to Serenia only recently and now every one of my people except my army have been turned into pictonians

What army? I thought the only reason Serenia was bombed in chapter one was because it didn’t have one.

Australia brought me in a helicopter and now me America, England, Italy, Germany, China, Japan, Russia, France, not that anyone noticed except me Canada

And there’s the “nobody notices Canada” trope.

and thanks to my knowledge of the 'paint it white' Hetalia movie Scotland and Australia are now in meeting about the pictonians I gave Canada a note saying 'go to Cuba, combine forces temporarily and take care of the injured 'he ran out of the room without anyone noticing.

You’d think that someone being told to leave an important meeting to leave the country, meet with someone who hasn’t been mentioned up until now and form an alliance to save their nation’s people would at least announce their departure.

"Dudes, this is an emergency! As the paper thingys in front of you with those crazy drawings that are supposed to be word says, the race of humanity has been taken over by nopras thingsmabobs by that crazy beam of light that comes out of the light bulby thingy that comes out of their head."

...what?

Alfred said while everyone was doing their own thing Francis blowing a kiss to the maid, Yao yawning, Arthur, Kiku, Ivan and Ludwig listening, Allistor smoking, jack playing with his koala, bub and Feli drawing faces on the pictonians pictures. "Nice one, Feli" I giggled "thank you, Kaitlyn! How are-a the puppies and-a cubbies?" he asked "they're fine they grew 60 cm!"

What an intriguing conversation. Why is this happening again?

then I turn my attention to the meeting and open the folder "Tony my righteous alien friend dude told me they are pictonians from the planet Picto. Like for real dudes. Picto is in like way far out in space." He continued "your brains in way far outer space" Arthur exclaimed "hello! Listen up! We can't let these nopras dudes make earth all freaky and boringly white! This is whack! We gotta stop these dudes! Also what's a nopras?" Alfred asked after a good little speech "it's a Japanese monster without eyes, nose or a mouth; its proper name is inotraple." I spoke up everyone looks at me then Arthur says "wait a tick does that mean this is all your fault japan?"

Why would any of the nations believe Serenia? Even if she explained that she figured it out from the “Paint It White” movie, she’d have to tell them how she came across the movie, either proving that she’s not from this universe or making the nations think she’s gone insane.

"Hey I only said what I learnt from japans old stories and he hasn't said a single word so it's not his fault." I defended while standing up "why the hell do I have to be turned into nopra, because of stupid japan and his scary story" Yao snapped I sighed and sat down and looked at the pictonians pictures I giggled and whispered something to Feli then we both giggled

So she went from defending to sighing to giggling in a span of what, a minute? If Kaitlyn is so protective of Japan, why doesn’t she defend him when China speaks up? Why does she just sit down and start having another inane exchange with Italy?

"what is so funny, kaitren-chan?"

Please no, not the Wapanese.

Kiku asked I smiled and said "is it just me or do these guys look like telitubies? Come on I can't be the only one thinking this" "Hahaha! Good one Kaitlyn!"

This chapter is supposed to take place three months after the former one, and the last chapter ended in the middle of WWII. There is no way any of the nations would know about Teletubbies, which is a show that launched in 1997.

Alfred laughed then said "anyway, focus countries! Japan may have screwed things up but we still have time to fix it! Your ideas will all suck, so listen to me! We will combine all of our military strengths! I'll be in command so you'll have to wear the colour of my flag! All heroes wear red white and blue! And Kaitlyn?" I look up at him "yeah?" "I'll make sure you're safe by you and me sticking together! I'll be your hero!" he said as he winked at me I blushed furiously

The awful dialogue aside, I thought Kaitlyn was shipping herself with Holy Rome last chapter, to the point where she kept him from dying. Does she have a new fictional husband now?

"wait who in god's name put you in charge and why the bloody hell should Kaitlyn go with you?" Arthur yelled "duh, because I'm the hero everybody knows that and Kaitlyn needs a hero" Alfred replied "ohnohnohnohn! But I think Kaitlyn should come with me and not you" Francis said in all his creepiness

France literally hasn’t done anything creepy, he just suggested Kaitlyn stick with him! Oh wait, I forgot the writer just wants to shoehorn in every trope imaginable into this fic for no reason at all.

"you keep your filthy perverted hands of Kaitlyn, cheesy monkey!"

He wasn’t being perverted at all! #ProtectFrance2020

Arthur yelled "shut up, black sheep of Europe" "I told you not to call me that" then Arthur and Francis started fighting, Feli tried to hand out his white flags, Yao was arguing with Alfred about which country made the most popular movies, Ivan was releasing a purple aura, Ludwig was trying to stay calm and me I stood up and sat with my pups and cubs petting them as they slept

You’re telling me these baby animals are casually sleeping through a group of adults having multiple loud arguments?

'what am I going to do? Everything's just so crazy. Everyone is a lot more extreme than I thought, they act the same and yet they act different.

How on earth does one “act the same yet act different”?

When I was in my world, everything seemed so easy. [Sigh] I guess not' "kaitren-chan."

Spare me.

A voice brought me back noticing Kiku was in front of me "what's wrong, Kiku-san?" "I wanted to thank you for defending me earrier, arrigato"

There’s no reason why Japan would thank Kaitlyn in Japanese when the rest of his sentence is in English, and that’s not even how you spell it.

he bowed I smiled then boom! I jump and my pups and cubs start barking and roaring

I can guarantee you that baby tigers cannot roar.

I calm them down by speaking Serenian. I wait for Germany to stop yelling before heading to the doors "Kaitlyn? Vhere are you going?" Ludwig asked "I'm going to protect my country. I suggest you all do the same." Then I walked out of the room. 2 hours later.

Where are they? Assuming they’re not in Serenia, it would take Kaitlyn quite a while to get home, especially since they’re in a time of war. She definitely wouldn’t be able to reach Serenia in two hours.

I'm standing with my army of 1,000 women and men armed with guns and arrows,

How are they going to shoot the arrows without bows?

I'm wearing a long flowing white skirt with a long slit that reaches 10cm from the waist, my black cloak,

A flowing skirt and a cloak are not at all practical for war, especially not a skirt with a slit. She’s going to get strangled with her cloak or trip over herself, mark my words.

a gold staff with a gold crescent at the top the staff was an inch above my head my height is 1, 80,

A few things to address here. First, isn’t Kaitlyn fifteen? How can a fifteen-year-old be that tall? Second, there’s no way that staff would do any damage, especially in a twentieth-century war when so much technology was developed. Gold is expensive as hell, too, so how could she make an entire staff from it?

I had a black camisole on and had gold two gold bracelets on my left ankle, one each on my wrists, a necklace with a silver water lily pendent and a gold necklace that fit on my head so that the crescent moon pendent was positioned on the centre of my forehead and I wore no shoes just bare feet.

No way someone can run or fight properly while wearing heavy gold bracelets, a silver pendant, a gold headdress and no shoes. You’re fighting in a war, for goodness’ sake, your feet are going to be severely hurt if you don’t wear anything on them.

"When the enemy comes show no fear and if the enemy shoots dodge then strike!" I commanded my cubs and pups were beside me growling.

You took your defenceless baby pets, the only Serenian native animals left, to a battlefield?

The earth started to shake a little "get ready!" I yelled the pictonians ships were in sight "FIRE!" I yelled my army fire their guns and arrows but they just turn all wiggly and white "crap!" I curse then the pictonians shoot the flower blossom beam me, my pups and cubs run and dodge the beam

Without being trampled to death by the rest of the fleeing soldiers, and fast enough to dodge the beam despite being, again, babies? Fat chance.

my army wasn't so lucky they got hit with the beam, then they started to stalk towards us "Kilala! Sesa! Nomura! Herona! Zecremea nomraxia qoxirizakri merase"(Translation: come we must run, my children!)"

Please, no more nonsensical Serenian.

We start running and an explosion happened bits of the arrows and metal from the guns flew at my cubs and pups I block them and got cut every were it hurt so much, then I hear something "Kaitlyn! Dude come on!" I look and see Alfred on a helicopter when I reach the helicopter

Shouldn’t he be back in America, defending his own people?

I look back and call out to my pups and cubs "come on almost there!" then disaster. Another flower beam was shot and it hit them, my pups and cubs, my babies

THIS IS WHY YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE BROUGHT THEM ALONG!

"no! No!" I try and run to them but, Alfred pulled me into the helicopter and restrained me the helicopter took off when I stopped struggling Alfred let me go. I cried, I let everything go. I dropped to my knees and cried Alfred sat on his knees and embraced me I cried into his jacket "Katie, everything's going to be okay. We'll get them back I don't know how but we will, I promise."

Oh wow, this is so touching.

He said 'that doesn't really sound like him this must really be bad' I stopped crying and hugged Alfred "al, thanks for saving me I assume they got you?" ' assume I know they got him' "yeah, my missiles did nothing then they turned the statue of liberty all white and wiggly" "they did that as well to the valley of blue roses" (for all those who don't know in Serenia their national land mark is a valley of blue roses since blue roses are unnatural and were originally white it is said that on the night of a blue moon the glow of the full moon turned them blue.)

Couldn’t the story behind the rose valley be included in the story instead of being dumped to us between brackets?

"We're heading to a temporary headquarters, okay?" I nodded I started humming 'safe and sound by Taylor swift' then Alfred asked "hey Katie what song is that?" 'Crap! I forgot Taylor swift hasn't even been born yet and... Wait a minute the songs I know are from the year 2013 and it's what like 1980, I'll keep it to myself.' "It's called safe and sound a little thing I made up to keep me sane when Switzerland attacked"

Finally, a rational decision. Also, if this chapter took place three months after the last, wouldn’t it be, like 1945 at most? How did the author forget something they wrote themself?

"Kaitlyn, when the war hit were you afraid that your country would be destroyed and you would ya know die?" "No, I feared for my countries people and animal life besides no one would really miss me." "That's not true! Iggy would miss you, Italy would miss you, jack and Allistor would miss you and I would defiantly miss you we all care about you Kaitlyn no matter what!" "Alfred." I smiled and hugged Alfred even tighter "Kaitlyn, I'm glad you're my best friend ""I'm glade too"

You’re what now?

then I fell asleep. 20 minutes later. We had almost reached the temporary hide out Alfred had to carry me on his back because I couldn't walk anymore I was partially covered in cuts and bruises and my head hurt badly.

Didn’t you just say you were cut “every were?”

"Al, remind me to kick the pictonians ass later please." "No prob" when we were close enough we could see everyone was there. Feli lifted his head and saw Alfred and smiled but, then he saw me he squealed and ran to Alfred and I. "Kaitlyn! What-a happened!?" he asked frantically "Feli, calm down I'm fine." I reassure him then I was lifted off of Alfred's back and carried to the temporary

The temporary what?

I look up to see Germany "thanks." I said he smiled and place me on crate then china tended to my wounds.

Is the medical centre just a crate? If not, what on earth is the author trying to describe here?

"Thanks china I owe you one" I said "no problem Kaitlyn!" he replied I noticed Feli walking around looking for something. "Hey Feli what are you looking for?" he turned to me and smiled "I-a think the puppies and cubbies are playing hide and-a seek with me so I'm-a trying to find them." I looked down and said "they're not playing hide and seek Feli." "Oh, then where are-a they?" I started to tear up I look at him as I raise my head and say "ask the pictonians" he paled

“Kaitlyn, you fucking idiot, why did you bring them along with you to fight?”

"becoming a pictonian appears to be our fate" I say "I refuse to become as ugly as the rest of you" France says "look on the bright side at least you won't smell like drunk cheese" England commented "chill out, we're not gonna let this get us down. Dudes, we're gonna stand together whether we like it or not. I don't!" Alfred said then Russia said "I agree, I don't like it!" then china said "that's right we should work together even if we hate it. I hate it!" "I hate it more" Arthur added "Qui j'detetes" France sighed "no rikey, but we should listen to each other's ideas" japan stated

The next person to use “no rikey” unironically will be executed at dawn.

"right, all zhose in favour for us to vork togezher raise your hand now" Germany said everyone but me and Feli raised their then Italy looked around and raised his hand and said "pasta~" I raise my hand and Alfred said sounding confident "check this out a douse of originality we get a super hero with a deflector shield to beat the crap out of those guys"

Haha comedy, am I right?

then Italy said "I think japan should do it I-a mean he's-a got eave**** and let's not forget about gun**" but those are just anime" japan said

Both Evangelion or Gundam were developed in the late twentieth century, decades after this story takes place. Plus, Italy isn’t so stupid as to believe that the mechas from those show exist in real life, is he?

"if you are looking for anime I can totally do that" china interrupted then a blurred picture appeared "you know I think I heard about that somewhere but better" Arthur says "yeah" everyone agrees "it original chines idea!" china fumed "excuse me" Germany said to grab our attention "maybe ve should oh I don't know zhink of ideas zhat are realistic" he said looking ready to blow

Thank you, Germany.

"I was thinking the exact same thing my idea is perfectly realistic" Arthur said looking confident "alright what do you have in mind, Arthur" I ask then he shows us a dark magic circle

How the hell did he make that so quickly?

"yeah we need something realistic" everyone said "you wankers don't ignore me!" Arthur yelled "my turn, how about we find their leader and hold them for ransom" I suggest "still need a realistic idea" they said then we hear a sound "Fucking" over and over we look at a screen to see a little grey alien "ah, what a charming alien" France said sarcastically "he's no alien! Tony is my best friend!" Alfred said sounding offended "that doesn't mean he's not a bloody alien!" Arthur said but, was ignored by Alfred "Tony what's the scoop bra?" "fu-"he tried to say but I interrupted saying "hey Tony? Think you could I don't know not pull any crap on us. Remember how you owe me from 30 years ago. I need you to show us the pictonians website and put on the translator software, please?"

What does Tony owe Kaitlyn and why was this never mentioned?? Also, the internet didn’t exist in WWII, what is going on -

he nodded and put up a website and then the translator thing made all the alien language translate in to English. Then a video played explaining the pictonians intentions. "It appears our planet is doomed." " ?" "What did he say now?" japan asked and Alfred replied "the more evolved the species the more their faces look nopra like" "oh, I have collection of evolving I'd like to show them" Russia said as he released a purple aura

The fuck does this mean?

"Vhere are zhey veak? Zhey must have a veakness' Germany said "they do" Tony replied then everyone but me flipped out "why haven't you been speaking English this whole time!?" France asked while freaking out "because I don't do dubs" Tony replied as he searched for something on his iPhone "okay their weaknesses are…"

WHY DOES HE HAVE AN IPHONE IN WWI!?

he continued. Then I had a dizzy spell. I felt pulse "sunflower, you're alright, da?" Russia asked

Haha he used “da” haha so very Russia of him.

"I-I'm fine, Russia" I replied holding my head "call me Ivan" he said then Alfred yelled "TONY!" that set me off I collapsed to the floor a bright white light covered my vision, as I fell I heard someone call out "Kaitlyn!". Then, I heard the giddy British voice again "well poppet, looks like you've been telling people you get visions, huh? Well, we don't want you to be a liar now do we? So every time a something big is going to happen, you will suffer a dizzy spell and have a vision. Well I better be off ta-ta poppet" then it all went black.

Oh, it’s the magic fellow from the first chapter. Will it ever be explained who they are or why they’re doing this to Kaitlyn? My money’s on “no”.

Suddenly, I saw everyone being turned into pictonians Alfred, Arthur, Francis, Ivan, Yao, jack, Allistor, Ludwig and Kiku then I turn and see Feli get turned into a pictonian 'no'

Why is Italy’s transformation the last straw?

I ran at the pictonians tears blurring my vision. I felt myself lift off the ground then gone I lost the vision. "Kaitlyn! Kaitlyn wake up!" I heard I slowly open my eyes to see Alfred above me with worry in his eyes and me I was on the floor with everyone surrounding me "I'm fine I just had a vision" I said as I hopped up everyone look at me and didn't looked convinced "trust me guys I'm fine this happens only at certain times." I said then a green light flashed we ran to the light and stopped when we saw a huge pictonian ship. As it was landing a powerful wind blew everywhere it almost knocked down everyone but, it blew me backwards until someone caught me I look and see Allistor holding me by my waist "wouldn't want ye ta blow away now would we?" he said smiling "thank you, Allistor" I said holding onto him.

And there goes another character into Kaitlyn’s harem.

When the wind stopped we all saw the ship in font "I think this is the mother ship" japan said "Hahaha those stupid aliens are so predictable" Alfred mocked "Allistor you can let go now." I said as I barely held my blush he blushed furiously and let me go "look!" Germany said as we see the pictonians marching onto the mother ship not noticing us "I think that's where they keep the humans that haven't been turned into pictonians probably human enslavement" I said "unacceptable ve must act now!" Germany yell as he marched towards the ship then japan stopped him "Germany I'm sorry I touched you but we must act reasonabry." "Must kill!" he replies

Why is Germany suddenly talking like a caveman? Goodness, if I had a dollar for every question I asked while reading this mess of a fic I’d be the richest person alive.

"hey, dudes!" Alfred said to get everyone's attention "I have an idea how about we infiltrate the ship and find their weakness!" he suggested "yes, I like the way you are thinking" china said enthusiastically "you can leave the spying to me" Arthur said confidently "and leave the animal rescuein ta me" jack said "nothing ventured nothing gained is what they arways say" japan said "exactly 'ow are zhey?" France asked "I know a way we can get inside!" we all looked and see Feli in a pictonian costume "tada!" "VHAT ZA HELL!? VHAT IS ZAT!?" Germany asked/yelled

You could just use “yelled”.

"it's my-a pictonian costume I made-a it with all the white flag material I have! Woohoo! I made-a one for everybody!" he laughed pointing to a box with pictonian costumes. Everyone just stared at it for a while. Then I walked to the box and grabbed one my size I put it on over my clothes.

One your size? You’re telling me Italy managed to make a number of fake-outfits with multiple sizes while the rest of the nations were running out to see the ship?

When I was done everyone was wearing theirs then they all ran to the ship yelling their battle cries "ATTACK!" "Hahaha! Hail the conquering hero" "double O ninja!" "I'm ready" "what a relief I still look fabulous!" "Hold on tight panda!" "I reap into battre!" "Aussie!" "Whiskey power!" only me and Feli didn't move "we'll wait for you guys here!" he cheered as he waved his white flag "Italy! Serenia! You both are coming vith us!" Germany yelled as he stood in front of Feli!" "But, running onto-a the aliens ship seams reckless-a to me. Besides I don't want to get my costume dirty. What do you think bella?" then he looked at me "Feli, I'm scared." I said as I looked up at him with tears in my eyes 'it's true I am scared, I'm scared that I screwed everything up and what if everyone gets turned into a pictonian' then I felt a hand on mine I look to see Feli with his eyes open looking at me "let's-a go Kaitlyn. We'll-a do this together!" he beamed I smiled and ran with Feli who yelled his battle cry "PASTA~!" in turn I yelled mine "the angel has arrived!"

Why would Kaitlyn be described as an angel? She’s done nothing remotely angelic in the story so far.

20 minutes later. We're all on the ship we hide behind a corner "ok, here's the plan Russia back me up, japan you back me up too and Iggy..." Alfred said when we were all in a circle with Germany holding eleven sticks "pick one each vhatever colour you get is zhe group you're in." he said "don't ignore me!" Alfred whined every one picked a stick France went with Arthur, Alfred went with Ivan and china, Germany went with japan and Feli. Me I went with Allistor and jack. We're walking down a hall way.

Nice tense change there.

'I'm not scared' "ya know we need 'a find the captured humans, righ'?" "No, I thought we're er ta play golf, we're not stupid lad we know what we're ta do." The continued arguing then I heard a noise and saw round the corner pictonians "shh!" I pulled them into a room but part of my pictonian costume ripped at my lower half reviling my lower half and the warrior skirt. "Great just great" I said sarcastically "Kaitlyn? Love is that you?" I turn around and see Arthur and France standing in front of a blue ball "what happened?" Arthur asked "these two dumbbells attracted unwanted attention so I acted fast and pulled us into the nearest room" I said a little peeved.

“Dumbbells” is a weak-ass insult.

Arthur scolded them while me and France looked at the globe I touched my country like Arthur was supposed to do with his country. Then a little page popped at the side of it but it was in the alien's language "damn, hey Arthur little help?" I ask he stops and chucks me his phone

Again with the cell phones! Isn’t it supposed to be the mid-twentieth century?

I look through it and put up the alien translator app then the screen scanned the page and processed the data then it binged and it all translated into English I read it aloud once the guys stopped fighting "Serenia, a peaceful country with both beautiful fauna and flora and also a former pirate now a polite lady. Serenia is a former pacifist but, during world war two and seeing some of her people and most of the fauna life massacred she became a fighter. She often gets stuck in the middle of love, because all the male countries are in love with her and she can't decide"

Woah. I couldn’t have come up with a more Mary Sue-ish description if I tried.

I blushed furiously and silently handed Arthur back his phone "love? Are you alright?" he said with a red face "p-p-please j-just go c-check your country"

I can tick “badly-written stuttering” off my bad fanfic bingo now.

I stuttered not being able to keep my cool. Arthur looked at his country and started fighting with France I ran up to them and tried to break them up "guys! You have to stop" then France accidently back handed me I hit the floor but no one helps me up. Allistor and jack tried separating Arthur and Francis then the door opened and the pictonians appeared "what do we do now?" Francis asked

I don’t know, maybe run instead of twiddling your thumbs?

"don't worry I'm sure there is a trap door here somewhere" Arthur said then a rope appeared next to him "see what did I tell you" he pulled the rope and the four of them fell through the trap door leaving me on the floor the pictonians looked at me 'I'm screwed' they didn't move "huh?" I looked down and saw that I look like someone turning into a pictonian. ' alright, let's play pictonian' so I found my other half of my costume and slowly pulled it on and pretended it hurt then to seal the deal I was next to the trap door and screamed at the top of my lungs "aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" then I slowly stood up slouching like them then they left.

I understood like ten words out of this section.

I shed the pictonian costume and fluffed out my black cloak and skirt I checked to see if my necklace on my head was still there and if my foldable gold staff was in the side of my skirt, luckily they were but unluckily, the staff put a little cut in my side making blood drops appear.

And this, kids, is why you don’t fight with fucking staffs. Also, how on earth is a tall, heavy staff made out of gold able to fold in on itself?

I ran out of the room and followed the pictonians without them noticing me. Then I see everyone in a corner. Found the alarm system, pulled and jumped in the vent the pictonians turned their attention to the alarm I slowly crawled in the air vent but, then I made a wrong move and fell. I waited for the impact but it never came I opened my eyes to see that china caught me "china, thank you!" I said as I hugged him "it is alright and please call me Yao" he smiled as he blushed lightly then set me on the ground

Dammit, there goes another one.

"Kaitlyn, you're alright" Feli cried as he hugged me. Then a green light grew bright we all looked to see the pictonians about to turn us into one of them. "We. Are. Screwed." I stated "wait, ret me try something" Kiku said "go ahead, Kiku-san" I said. "Pictonians we have come to show you our hospitarity." He said "WHAT!?" everyone but me yelled I ran next to Kiku and backed him up saying "Kiku is right we should show them what earth has to offer. If we show them how fun and fantastic earth is maybe they won't invade earth, change everything back to normal and leave."

Nice idea, but they’ve kind of already invaded earth. You’re too late, honey.

Then Yao said "leave it to me!" then a china town appeared and all the pictonians were sitting at tables with food in front of them "please eat as much as you want" Yao offered "don't-a mind if I-a do!" Feli said with a plate of food in his hand "zhat is not for you!" Germany yelled "but why does-a Kaitlyn get-a to eat?" he complained "because it's just a mango and I haven't eaten since yesterday" I said the pictonians started to eat

What does China serving mangoes have to do with why she gets to eat?

"so you like it am I right?" Yao asked confidently "we don't know" they answered Yao "I'm so glad you like it. Wait you don't know?" he asked "we don't know" they replied then France tried to get them to eat his countries cuisine but got the same reply "I would like to be going now don't be letting me down" Ivan said to the Baltics "yes sir" they replied then done a ballet to swan lake in female ballerina outfits'

Poor Baltics. What did they do to deserve being put in this fic?

that's just cruel' then they spun off stage "we don't know" the pictonians said I thought of what hospitality I could provide 'belly dancing and flowers' I played belly dancing music and hopped on the stage and danced. Every time I could I threw a bunch of flowers to the pictonians.

Where did she get - I’m not going to question things any more.

I heard my friends shouting out "go, sheila!" "Shake it, Kaitlyn" "go, bella!" when I finished I posed with my hands above my head and one leg at the front the pictonians gave me an unexpected answer "it was good" I jumped off the stage and Alfred picked me up and spun me in the air "dude that was awesome where did you learn to do that?" he asked as he set me on the ground "I went to India a little while back and learned belly dancing" I replied then Germany tried to give a pictonian some beer but struggled a bit "dude, let me help you out" Alfred said then a casino popped out of nowhere. All the pictonians were at slot machines and one hit the jackpot, another got kissed by two girls in bunny costumes. "Men" I said as I walked away from Alfred.

Haha guise get it? She’s totally a strong independent woman who laughs when men are being stupid even though she has ten of them chasing after her!

I noticed Feli with the pictonians having fun then everything went wrong. The pictonians had eaten one of Arthur's scones and turned blue in the face. "Come on, what-a happened? Let's-a eat another scone" Feli said happily and the pictonians replied "no way" "guys I think this is our cue to leave" jack said and with that we ran. "Well, what now genius?" I ask then Alfred stops at a door and presses a button then the door opens to show us a long drop out of the ship into the ocean "Geronimo!" Alfred yells as he jumps then everyone but me and Feli are left "Feli come on it's better than being turned into a pictonian" I say then we jump. During the fall Feli had his eyes closed, me mine were open and it's a good thing too, because up ahead was a huge pointy rock. We were falling fast so I pushed Feli out of the way and he missed the rock by an inch. I, on the other hand got the full blow of the rock it my stomach leaving a huge gash then my back.

Wouldn’t she also break some bones and presumably die on impact? Falling from a high place onto a sharp rock would definitely leave more than two gashes.

I fell in the ocean hard and hit my head on a rock I slowly lost consciousness as I rose to the surface. 20 minutes later. I woke up on a sandy surface and I immediately started coughing up water and feeling the sting of salt water in my wounds. "Hello? Is someone there?" I heard a familiar British voice call "Arthur?" I call out but no reply I stand up and limp to where the sound came from. I keep walking until I hear crying I stumble to the noise and soon am hiding behind a tree looking at a camp fire with everyone around it. "b-but, where-a I-I-is Kaitlyn? Feli cried "we need to find her now I-I just couldn't bear to think what I would do without her" Alfred admitted everyone nodded their heads in agreement "it's so nice to see how much you guys care for me" I said as I came out from behind the tree with my cloak covering my body. They all lifted their heads and Feli tackled me to the ground "bella, I-"but before he could finish his sentence I howled out in pain "aaahhhh!"

You should’ve collapsed a long time ago.

Feli got up and looked at his hands and his eyes opened and widened showing terror "b-bella, w-w-why are-a you bleeding?" he shakily asked I stood up to see everyone staring at me with pale faces "I had a little accident." I said they still didn't look convinced. I felt a pulsing pain in my stomach as I fell to my knees

Yeah, there it is.

"Kaitlyn!" they all ran to me I undid the lock on me cloak "Kaitlyn what's wrong!?" Alfred asked as he looked like he was about to cry. I removed my cloak and reviling my injuries everyone gasped in horror. "Well are you going t-"I lost consciousness in the middle of my sentence. In my dream world.

It’s magic teleportation man, isn’t it.

"Hello?" I call no answer "hello, poppet." I turn around to see a man with strawberry blond hair and bushie eye brows he had neon blue eyes, he wore a pink vest over a white dress shirt and army green slacks and a purple bow tie. Then it hit me I know who he is "O-Oliver Kirkland!?"

YOU’VE GOT TO BE FUCKING -

I ask he clapped his hands while jumping up and down "oh, you figured it out poppet well done! But please call me Ollie" he giggled 'only because I read fan fiction'

How does Kaitlyn reading fanfiction relate to her being allowed to call Oliver “Ollie”? So many sentences in this fic are just strung together with no relation whatsoever.

"you sent me here didn't you?" I asked he stopped bouncing and smiled "yes, we brought you here because you have such a vast knowledge on us and wanted Hetalia to be real so badly that we decide to bring you here and make you a country. Isn't wonderful? We picked you out of all the girls and boys in the world" he said "yes I am grateful but, what do you mean by 'we'?"

Oh, so her teleportation into the Hetalia world is explained. Still makes no sense why she was picked, though.

I asked he smiled but made it even more cheerful looking "I mean-""the cupcake freak means us, doll" I looked behind me to see 2P America Allen Johnson or as he prefers to called Al, he had red/brown hair, red eyes, a bomber jacket with a fifty on the back, black gloves, sunglasses and, like the fan fiction says, a baseball bat with nails at the top.

OH MY GOODNESS, NOT THE ANOTHER COLOURS.

And another thing: why is Allen’s appearance described as being “like the fanfiction says”? Since the Another Colour Main Six aren’t canon (only their Nyotalia forms are), everyone has a different interpretation of what they look like. What fanfiction is Kaitlyn referring to?

I need to stop asking questions when it’s clear I won’t get answers.

I started blushing because when I found out about the 2P's I developed a crush on them. "Well hello, doll face" he said as he walked up to me "Al" was all I could say he smiled and put a finger under my chin and moved his face closer about 2 inches from mine "heh, she's pretty cute. No 2P Serenia but hey she's just as cute"

ANOTHER ONE IN THE HAREM.

he said I backed away a little "you mean I have a 2P?" I asked then Oliver came from behind and hugged me I yelped and winced Oliver looked down and said "oh dear you got injured. We'll bring you to Yung" then another figure appeared with a medical kit. He looked like Yao except he had black hair and red eyes

Doesn’t regular China also have black hair? Also, what the fuck kind of name is “Yung?” That syllable doesn’t exist in Chinese.

"hello, Mrs. Water lily" he said as he tended to my wounds as I sat on the floor "it's nice to meet you, and you don't have to be so formal with me please call me anything you like" I beamed he had a light blush across his cheeks "fine, I will call you… nightingale because you have the beautiful voice of one" he said I turned bright red.

You’ve met her for at most five minutes.

When he finished I had a bandage around my whole torso and stomach and head.

A bandage around her torso, stomach and head? She must look like a mummy from the waist up.

"Thanks, I owe you one." I said "oh, don't worry about it, poppet. We wouldn't want you to be hurt now would we?" Oliver said "now, see that door?" he said as a blue door appeared "uh huh" I said "go straight through it and you'll wake up to the 1P's and have theses bandages on still" he said.

So the Another Colour characters were only brought up to keep Kaitlyn from dying and providing exposition. Well, I shouldn’t have expected anything more.

I walk to the but I stop when I put my hand on the handle I turn to the 2P's "but will I see any of you guys again" I ask. Al smiles and says "of course. Why wouldn't we want to see your cute face again, doll face" Al replied I nodded and walked through the door. When I wake up. I open my eyes and see Feli asleep and everyone else talking about things 'no sign of Sealand' I sit up and groan "ow, my head" everyone looks at me their eyes widen as I stand up. "Will you stop looking at me like that? I'm fine" I said smiling "cheerio everyone!" we turn our heads to see Sealand on his 'country' 'I haven't met Sealand yet' "I brought my whole country here to help you all!" he shouted "you don't have a whole country to begin with go home you little pipsqueak!" Arthur yelled.

“Sealand and England arguing over whether or not he’s a country” trope, check.

5 minutes later. Everyone just finished eating food from Yoa's resort that was conveniently on the island.

Who is Yoa?

"I am so full at moment" Yao said rubbing his belly. "Who knew you had a resort on this island" Arthur said I sat on the shore of the ocean, letting the water touch my feet. 'My babies, I raised them from pups and cubs and now their pictonians.'

What an out-of-place line to wrap up this chapter. The conversation has just started, nobody has responded to it and nobody knows what will happen. It feels very abrupt.

...

Well, that was it. I am in immense pain and I feel like I’ve lost a few brain cells. This was maybe the most illogical, unenjoyable thing I’ve read in quite a while, but am I going to also review the other chapters? Yes. For now, I’m going to rethink my life choices and try to forget what I read here.

#aph fanfiction #aph america #aph england #aph france #aph russia #aph china #aph canada #aph japan #aph germany #aph italy #aph australia #aph main five #aph main six #aph main trio #i'm in Pain

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wisdomrays · 4 years

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TAFAKKUR: Part 67

Health and Natural Balance with Patchouli

Studies made recently in relation to aromatherapy show that aroma can be the preparation for many important functions in connection with a person’s spirit and body. Many experts on complementary medicine in the West supply patients with prescriptions for various aromas in relation to their particular illnesses.

Less well known is that research is also continuing into the scent of repellents to deter pests like insects and ticks. Various plants are known for the effects of their aroma, and are in widespread use for protection, especially in very hot and humid climates where there are a great number of arthropods; for instance, it is known that mosquitoes will not approach a house that has basil plants on the windowsill.

Another plant which is well known and used commonly for its scent is “patchouli” (pogostemon cablin), the scented essential oil of which is obtained by steaming the plant and collecting the oil which emerges. The plant is a member of the mint family, and its actual origin is India, where its scent can be found even in the famous Indian ink. Patchouli leaves used to be placed between carpets and rugs made in Iran and Turkey to protect them from any harmful pests or insects before they were sent to Europe. During the Victorian period carpets, shawls and rugs exported from India were also sprinkled with the fragrance of patchouli to protect them from moth, In fact any carpets, rugs or shawls that did not have the scent of patchouli were not favored because they were believed to have been manufactured in Europe. The fragrance of the plant, which is longer lasting than most other scents, is believed by the Chinese, Japanese and Arabs to prevent the spread of infectious diseases and also used frequently in perfumes and soaps. Widely used in Europe in the eighteen hundreds, patchouli became the most popular fragrance of the generation in America in the sixties.

The research into patchouli has been limited so far and scientific observations are insufficient; nevertheless, the chemical composition of the various scents found in the oil of this plant have been identified, and the long human experiences of using this plant and its fragrance may hold great significance for scientific research in the future.

The plant contains patchouli alcohol, pogostone, friedelin, epifriedelinol, pachypodol, retusin, oleanolic asid, beta-sitosterol and daucosterol, most of which prevent nausea. It has also been found to contain alpha-bulnesene, which prevents the clotting of blood. In addition, according to an article in the 2008 February edition of the Phytotherapy research journal, since the oil obtained from patchouli essence is an effective fly killer, the oil could also be an effective as a component of insect repellents and might even be an effective arthropod and tick repellent.

Looking at these studies we clearly see other ways in which we could benefit from this substance; for instance, by adding a few drops to water we could use it in household cleaning and therefore get rid of unwanted odors at the same time as preventing insects in the home without the use of carcinogenic chemicals. The oil is also known to be used to prevent fungus, to reduce perspiration and eliminate unwanted body odors and for dietary purposes, due to its effectiveness in reducing the appetite.

Moreover, patchouli has also long been a fragrance very much sought and used as a form of treatment for its soothing qualities and positive effect on spiritual health. Martin Henglein, who was one of the founders of aromatherapy and developer of the theory of the curative aspect of the fragrances of plants, recognizes geranium, rosemary, bergamot, and patchouli as the four primary aromas, and he emphasizes that these four fragrances perform various functions. Geranium can prevent addictions from progressing and even assist people in abandoning addictions and bad habits. For instance, the role geranium plays in giving up smoking is indisputable: when the desire to smoke increases and becomes unbearable the aroma of geranium temporarily eliminates the desire to smoke. According to Henglein, rosemary improves memory while bergamot increases activity in the brain and the ability to understand; patchouli activates the mechanism which motivates a person’s energy.

Robert Tisserand, owner of a treatment center in England, believes that certain fragrances can also cure psychological illnesses, Tisserand says that these aromas have a positive effect on the signal molecules (neurotransmitters) that provide communication with the nerve cells and can help to cure psychological problems. Fragrances encourage the body to release endorphin, a substance which resembles morphine (a pain reliever) and this is why rose oil, jasmine, sage, cananga (ylang ylang), patchouli, and grapefruit are recommended for depression, to increase confidence, and to help with abnormalities of sexual function. If patchouli is used in excess, it allegedly may cause a sedative effect or may reduce sleep. Otherwise, it is claimed to have a balancing effect on the body’s energy and psychological condition, inspire a sense of calmness, eliminate laziness, support treatment of addictions, and relieve feelings of fear and depression.

Everyone knows that charming fragrances enhance positive thought and feelings, and we also know the negative aspects of bad odors. It is reported that the Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him, said, “I have been made to love perfume,” drawing attention to the importance of pleasant fragrances and reminding us that Jacob received the glad tidings that his son Joseph was still alive because of the scent of his shirt.

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alstanfordart · 4 years

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Come Into My Lights

A Robert Gray origin story I wrote a few months back. Has some fairly disturbing content in it, so read with caution.

At the start of Autumn, in the chilly, foggy early hours of the morning, the circus arrived to sleepy Derry. The colorful painted wooden wagons and elephants parading along Witcham Street drew the children of the town out of their homes to smile, gawk and laugh while still in their pajamas.

The performers clamored about the town, exploring, or posing for photographers as set-up began, including the biggest draw of all; the big top tent being erected by young laborers. Decked out in overalls with smudged cheeks, they traveled with the circus and during performances often did humdrum chores, such as tending to the animals and the handling of props the various performers used during their acts. The laborers, while not paid well, certainly ate well, with three hearty meals a day. The opportunity for travel was also desirable for many young men and women.

The wagons were sitting in a circle around Bailey Park, in the center is one emblazoned with 'Pennywise The Dancing Clown.'

Otherwise known as Robert Gray, formerly Gustafsson. He'd picked up his stage name while performing in London with an English clown George Rowley, known as 'Sad Jacques,' who uttered the saying, "Penny wise and pound foolish" in response to the lavish spending he'd witnessed while in the city. Robert found the saying delightful and adopted it as a stage name. Before, he simply was known as 'The Dancing Clown.'

Robert was born in Södermalm, the only son of Anna and Sven, both from familes of dancers, musicians and actors. His father had been known sinply as "The Sångare," and had moved the family to England upon landing work at King's Theater. His actress mother made regular appearances on the Royal Theatre stage.

The family's home life was often filled with drama that matched that depicted in his mother's plays; his father had at least three different mistresses, each having bore him a child. Robert had never acknowledged or spoke with any of them. His father was also a strict disciplinarian, often beating Robert mercilessly for something as trivial as not finishing all of his vegetables.

His father, who had a taste for the macabre, also spent a fair amount of time consuming magazines and books filled with horrifying tales of people being buried alive. As a result, this caused him to request that his teenage son promise to behead him upon death for fear of premature burial. When the time came, Robert did as asked and upon the death of his mother a few years later, set out on his own, mostly finding work in Italy, Denmark and Sweden.

It was in London where Robert met his charismatic wife Agnes, also known by her stage name Elvira, who was a trapeze artist famed throughout Europe as the "Daughter Of The Air." Her performances often took her up fifty to sixty feet from the ground, without using any net or other safety measures. The audiences adored her and she was often the subject of magazine news articles.

Born in Stockholm, she was of Danish ancestry and had come from a family of trapeze artists, 'The Flying Jensens' and had been performing since she was a toddler, with her father balancing her on his hand during his opening act.

Robert had been taken with her hourglass figure, and long light brown hair which was well past her waist. She'd been drawn to his height and striking eyes, the blue-green color reminding her of the sea. Even finding his slight buck teeth appealing. They had eloped when they were touring with the French circus director Didier Gautier in Cirque Du Nord

Their seven year old daughter Emma was a dark-haired morose child who was born in Austria while the couple were touring with Circus Renz.

When America came calling, they landed on Ellis Island and they promptly changed the family name from Gustafsson to the more easily pronounced Gray and eventually were hired by P.T Barnum upon hearing of the couple's fame throughout Europe.

America, however, wasn't all it was advertised to be, and Agnes and Robert were becoming increasingly weary with life on the road. Overworked and exhausted, at this point their young daughter was their priority and settling down was maybe what was best for her. A stable home. School. And, most of all, friends. The girl was isolated, and apart from a stuffed lion she called 'Fred' given to her by the lion tamer Isaac Van Der Berg, she had no real companions. She often spent long hours sitting in Agnes' wagon printed with 'The Legendary Elvira,' reading or playing marbles while the couple did their shows.

Derry seemed like the perfect place to settle down permanently. They had acquired enough savings to live comfortably.

Upon their exploration of the town, Robert, Agnes and Emma happened upon 29 Neibolt Street and a lovely two-story mansion, somewhat rundown-looking, encircled by patches of half-dead grass and sunflowers that looked like tiny suns sprouting around the yard. Upon talking with the locals they discover that the home is for sale and was owned by one of the wealthiest families in Derry, the Muellers.

In fact, according to the local residents, the place hadn't been lived in for many years. The last known occupants, the Vance family, had moved out around thirty years prior. There were whispers that the place was haunted-rumors both Robert and Agnes immediately dismissed.

But not so much Emma. Standing outside the wrought iron gates, she gawks up at the circular attic window at the very top, goosebumps breaking out along her skin. The window almost resembles the eye of a cyclops, watching her closely. She takes a step backwards.

"No, I don't want to go in here." she mumbles, dropping her head down, holding Fred tight to her plaid dress, prying her fingers from her mother's. The house had a strange atmosphere, like it would come alive and gobble her up if she set one foot inside.

Like some kind of monster from a fairytale.

"It's just a house, my love. Nothing to harm you," Agnes lovingly reassures. "Nothing to be afraid of."

Robert gives his daughter a gentle rub along her shoulders, removing his cigar from his lips to give her a comforting smile. "We're just going to have a look around, okay? Nothing to fear."

She's never lived in a house before. It's all a little foreign to her. She'll adjust.

But there's something about this house. Something drawing Robert to it. It certainly wasn't the most attractive and the work going into it would be time-consuming. But there was a charm about it. It had potential to be their dream home.

Robert leads his family in, with Emma returning her hand to her mother's protective grip. Once inside, they stand gazing about the living room, admiring the woodwork; the staircase and wooden beams, evidence of fine craftsmanship. The furniture was still here, as if the former owners had left in a hurry. The fireplace inlaid with 'Good Cheer, Good Friends,' and a piano sits beneath the window, sunrays coating along its white and black keys, the dust particles floating through the air twinkle in the warm light.

"The price they're asking for this place is a bargain, given how it includes the furniture and everything," Robert says as he approaches the stairwell. "Seems too good to be true."

"The furniture will have to be replaced. Look at it," Agnes runs a white gloved hand along the blanket of dust along the wooden frame of a parlor chair. "It's filthy! We can't possibly use it."

"No, just a little dirty. Just needs some sprucing up a bit. Just a little bit of love." Robert grins like a kid, his round cheeks turning up as he bounds up the stairwell.

Agnes follows, with Emma at her heels, clinging to her, her large brown irises searching along the walls, waiting to see if something emerges, or moves out of anywhere. A pair of massive hands with hairy fingers reaching out for her, like a troll from the Scandinavian folk tales the children back home told around a camp fire. The eerie sensation that this house was somehow alive was rustling within her. Every nook and cranny was just seeping with this discomfort.

Robert opens a door to a bedroom where two of the windows have been shattered.

No matter. Easily replaced.

Agnes enters behind him, leaving Emma out in the hall. As she stands, a whispered voice touches her eardrums.

Emma.

Startled, the girl spins around. That voice was neither male no female. That was not either of her parents calling her name. Although it seems like it was speaking to her through her mind. A cursory glance into the bedroom shows her parents are preoccupied with discussions of renovations.

Emma.

She stares down the hall towards the kitchen as the door opens ajar and just inside there's a miniature ball of light, doing a little dance mid-air. It looked no bigger than one of her marbles. It reminded her of the fairy stories her mother told her. Describing the little sprites as having an otherworldy glow.

It couldn't be though, could it?

Without hesitation she runs to the kitchen as it disappears behind the doorway. She stands watching, holding Fred tighter to her as the little glowing ball skips through the air to the open door of the basement, casting its luster along the darkness. As she steps closer, she feels a pull, a force, beckoning her further in. Like a pair of large invisible hands guiding her along by her shoulders.

She had to go down there.

As she enters, standing atop the steps leading down into the murkiness, she is met with a bone-chilling cold, the clammy decayed odor of the basement air meets her nostrils, causing her to cough. She charily begins to descend the stairwell, in direction of the light ball as it highlights each step, creaking loudly under her tiny feet as she reaches the bottom.

There, just a few feet from her, in a weak beam of sunlight from a nearby window, is an ancient stone well. The little ball of light hovering just above it, circling the opening. The well is partly destroyed, a rusted pulley dangles just above. With Fred still tight in her arms, she stares at it, almost mesmerized. Gradually, she starts to come closer. As she does, something moves just along the broken stones.

A pair of luminescent yellow-orange hands rise from within and cup the tiny light ball, followed by the head of a woman with her hair pinned back, her entire face illumined in that same bright color that resembled an amber gemstone. She rises up out of the well, still holding the tiny bead of light, wings sprouting out from her back. She lands on her feet with a dainty ballet-dancer like movement, wearing the same style of lace-up slippers and dress her mother wore when she performed.

Emma stares, her mouth agape.

A real fairy. An actual real-life fairy.

The fairy gestures for her to draw near. "Come." she says in a delicate feminine voice that sounds like an angel, or the most delicate porcelain bell chiming.

Emma heeds, inching closer, in utter awe of what she was seeing. The fairy sticks her hand out, wiggling her slender fingers. "Come with me, child."

Emma swallows, still feeling the embers of fear smoldering, although much of it had dampened. But a fluttery anxious feeling was still present. "Come where?" she inquires.

"Come and you'll float. I promise. Don't you want to have wings?" the fairy replies, turning her shoulders slightly to display hers. "Come and you will float too."

Emma is about to take her hand, when she sees the fairy's features up close. Her eyes are two empty black sockets. At this, Emma pulls back, an unnerving feeling starting to shiver through her.

"Um, that's okay. I-I think I need to go upstairs now," she says as she starts to back away, gaze not wavering from the strange sight. "I need to leave now."

The beaming visage the fairy was displaying now falters, her tiny mouth curling downwards into an exaggerated pout. "Now Emma, that's not very polite. Come and let me take you into my lights. You won't grow old there. You'll remain the same forever." she says grinning. Although friendly, there's enough hint of malice beneath it to cause Emma's fear to skyrocket, coupling it with a burst of panic.

No, this isn't normal. Fairies aren't real.

Then, out of the corner of her vision, she spots something moving beside the fairy, something black. Possibly a rat or a mouse

A closer inspection shows it is neither, but some sort of...thing.The closest she could describe it as is a shadow, only solid. It danced along the edge until another appeared. And another. And another. Until what looked like a writhing bundle of obsidian tentacles begin to rise up from the well. Followed by veins of orange light creeping up along the grooves of the stones, pulsing and flickering.

"Come Emma. Come into my lights." the fairy intones as ebony webs begins to snake out of her eyes, cocooning around her head and neck, slithering down her thin frame.

The pulley above the well begins to swing as the monstrosity starts to lift out and towards Emma, now taking on the appearance of thick inky tar, the fairy vanishing within. The powerful scent of raw sewage fills the musty air as the orange light brightens the well as if there were a fiery lava pit deep below, painting its smoldering gleam along the stones.

The hairy phantom tentacles start to crawl towards Emma, the fear now escalating, almost making her numb with fright. A scream is wedged in her throat, she works her jaw, trying to utter a sound of alarm, her nails digging into Fred's soft fur.

"Emma!"

Agnes' voice jolts the little girl out of her stupor and she shrieks, whirling around to dash up the stairs, the slimy tentacles nipping at her ankles. As she reaches the top, her mother appears in the doorway. Emma almost knocks her down as she wraps her arms around her waist.

"My goodness, what-" Agnes begins, patting her daughter's trembling back.

"Down there! There's something there!" she stammers, turning and jabbing her finger downwards.

Only there's nothing there. Nothing at all. No sign of the strange yellow-orange light, that menacing fairy, or the black tentacles. The pulley now immobile. The horrid smell of sewage replaced with the mildewy scent of the basement.

As if nothing had even been there at all.

"There was something there..." Emma breathes, tightening her small arms around her mother. Agnes glances in the direction of the well. The whole basement was going to take some serious work, something she may not be up for. But Robert's enthusiasm was contagious.

"There was something coming out...and I thought I saw-"

No I did see. There was a fairy, but you wouldn't believe that.

"It's alright dear. That young man was only joking, I'm sure. Those ghost stories are just make-believe. Not anything real."

They'd spoken to a local youth who had informed them it was "the haunted house" in earshot of Emma, and it clearly had influenced her into 'seeing' something.

"What's the matter?" Robert appears beside Agnes, gazing down at his shaken daughter. "What is it?"

"That." Agnes, still holding Emma to her arms, gestures at the well. Robert smirks.

"That won't be a problem," he says. "We can take care of that."

"Mhm." Agnes arches her brows as she peers down at the unsightly area. It seems like more trouble than it's worth. But if he is convinced they could do it...

"Come on, I want to go see the owners, see if we can get this going." he announces as he gently maneuvers his wife and daughter away from the basement door. He takes one last glimpse as he shuts it.

Inside, just above the opening of the well, three tiny orange lights appear, hovering in a circular motion.

After the trip to the Muellers, and despite the fact that the snooty family looked down on circus performers, the house on Neibolt was now officially the new Gray residence.

Robert, inspired by the architecture of the churches they'd seen throughout Europe, went out and immediately bought a pair of stained glass windows from a local artist, painted with bright scenes of the circus. Once installed, they filled the room with rays of yellow, orange, blue and turquoise.

This was to be Emma's room, but the perceptive child was still frightened. Frightened and perplexed. Why did nobody live here? Why did the Mueller family not reside here? What of the family that did live here before? Cleaned up, it made for a lovely home. So, why was it just sitting here unattended to? Her young mind could not make sense of the questions her parents seemed unconcerned with.

No doubt, it was connected to whatever that was in the basement.

Snuggling Fred, she stares at the newly-installed windows, the design almost resembling a pair of wicked eyes grinning at her. The image of that fairy comes on. She shudders as the sound of the fairy's voice still plays in her mind.

Come into my lights.

In their new bedroom, Agnes was laying out her mother's large old quilt along the bed, featuring a scene of men herding cattle, women fetching water from a stark blue river and boys building haystacks. At the foot of the bed sat a large cedar chest, inset with the initials R.G, where Robert kept his clown costume, made of fine off-white silk from Lyon, and his make-up supplies.

As he and Agnes prepare to perform, Robert, or rather Pennywise, stands looking at the full-length mirror. Adjusting the thick ruffle around his neck, he grins, his trademark red stripes thick along his cheeks, his lazy left eye slightly askew. As he stares, something rather curious happens. The kerosene lamp just behind him on the nightstand flickers, the tiny flame within breaking apart into three smaller flames, forming circles.

Seeing this odd movement in the reflection, Robert turns to look as the flame returns to normal. He approaches, taking the lamp in his large gloved hands, staring intently at the light as a small, barely-audible voice arises from its warmth.

Robert.

Dazed, he watches as the flame begins to break apart again, separating into the three tiny balls of orange-yellow as they begin to rotate. Robert's corneas begin to mirror their glow, the voice still speaking to him, whispering, before-

"Robert?"

Agnes is now beside him, her thin fingers caressing the puffy material of his shoulder.

"You okay?" she whispers, bringing her pink lips to his and planting a quick kiss.

"Fine," he replies as he places the kerosene lamp back down. "I'm fine."

Over the next few days, they perform a show in the afternoon and again at night, with Agnes doing her signature one-arm plange act, enthralling the audience who marveled at her grace and elegance. When the time came for Robert to do his dancing clown act, the children all squealed with delight as he did his gags, slapstick comedy and dance moves where he engaged the children in the front rows. Adopting a slight lisp as part of his performance, he coaxed one little girl from the front to stand before him as he presented her with a large silver dollar from behind her ear. The girl looks positively enchanted.

The show concludes with the two African elephants, Sylvia and Thump performing and the lions Ivan and Maurice, jumping through hoops of fire.

Afterwards, the children all gathered around Pennywise to ask for an autograph or a special trick just for them, usually with him presenting them with candy or a small toy. One girl in particular, a redheaded child with a round freckled face hangs behind the other children, waiting for them to clear away, before she approaches the clown.

"Those kids do love you. They just flock right to you, don't they mister?" she says, smiling, displaying a minor gap between her two front teeth. Robert gazes down and chuckles.

"Kids love clowns. They bring happiness and joy. As P.T says; 'clowns and elephants are the pegs on which the circus is hung.' Did you like the elephants?"

"Oh, I did, but the you were the best part. The children all loved you." the little girl replies, fingering one of her braids.

"Well thank you. Now if you excuse me, I got to get going. My little girl is waiting." Robert gives a little wave as he walks towards his wagon where Agnes is waiting with Emma, smiling back at the girl, who returns the wave enthusiastically.

Agnes wraps her arms around his neck as he reaches her. "You were fantastic as always...um... who were you talking to just now?" she queries as Emma steps out the door of the wagon, looking relieved to see her father.

Of course this meant they'd be going back to that house.

To Neibolt.

"That little redheaded girl, she really loved my performance. She just thought the elephants were okay," he grins proudly as he pulls Agnes in for an affectionate hug. "You know, I'm gonna miss this. The crowds."

Agnes simply smiles weakly as she peers over his shoulder, her brows knotting together as she studies the area where she'd seen him engaged in a conversation outside the tent exit all by himself with nobody there but a wooden barrel.

Over the next few days, Robert starts to undergo a drastic personality change. His normally cheery upbeat demeanor became more somber, his words curt. He was short with both Agnes and Emma. His eyes underlined by dark half crescents. While he performed, he still saw that little redheaded girl in the bleachers, smiling and cheering. But it was on the second to last night that the circus would be in town that he saw something that made his blood run like ice rivers through his veins, his heart palpitate.

Tucked away in the back of the bleachers, standing with the girl,was Sven. Looking as he did the last Robert saw him. The shock sends Robert tumbling from a large ball on which he was balancing. The crowd responds with a chorus of gasps as Robert stands and shouts a phrase in Swedish that was incomprehensible to the spectator's ears.

Later that night, Agnes is woken up by the sound of the piano, the same sharp note over and over again. Groggily running her hand along Robert's side of the bed, feeling nothing but the cold sheets. Heading downstairs, she sees him sitting at the piano, hunched over, his right index stabbing at one single key repeatedly. He flinches as her fingers come up to brush along his back.

"Another nightmare?" she quietly asks, moving to sit alongside him on the small bench, tucking her blue silk nightgown around her knees.

"I keep thinking of him. Since we've been here. He's been on my mind. I don't know why." he replies, still poking at the key. Agnes reaches and grabs his hand in hers. He keeps his face down, obscured from the light of the kerosene lamp that sits atop the piano.

"Your father's gone. He's not here-"

"But he is. I saw him. Saw him in the bleachers tonight."

"What? How could-"

"He was here, Aggy, I saw him. And when I woke up just now. He was standing in the corner of the room staring at me," Robert pauses, before continuing under his breath. "I know it was him. He didn't have a head."

A much more ghastly image of Sven had appeared in the far corner of the bedroom, gripping his head by the scalp, blood dripping from the bloody stump of his neck, grinning maniacally.

Agnes rests her forehead upon Robert's shoulder, wrapping her arm around to massage his shoulder blades. She'd grown accustomed to his past occasionally showing its ugly head, as disturbing as it was, but this was merely a phase.

He then violently shakes her arm off.

"Get your ass back to bed. Stop bothering me." he sneers.

She pauses and stumbles up, her visage mixed with both surprise and hurt, even though this attitude has been present since they'd arrived.

"Robert, please just let me-"

"Just leave me alone!" he shouts as he smashes his fists against the piano keys. Agnes continues to back away as Emma, woken by her parents voices, appears at the bottom of the stairs with Fred in her arms, nuzzling him against her cheek.

"Mommy?" she says as Agnes rushes to her, guiding her back up the stairs.

"Come on, get back to bed." Agnes orders as Emma glances over her shoulder at her father, who has resumed his one-note playing as the flame of the lamp takes on the form of three rotating spheres.

Near him, a thick black mass hovers along the wall.

The last night of the circus was their largest crowd yet, with it nearly doubled from the last few days, most likely people from out of town or drifters who'd received the free tickets they'd given out. Both the crew and the performers were relieved, as things had not been right the moment they'd come to this town. Technical difficulties, the people getting into arguments in the bleachers. The animals, especially the lions, seemed agitated, pacing back and forth in their cages. Isaac was doing everything her could to keep the beasts calm and collected. Not an easy task with the roaring sounds of a raucous crowd.

Agnes stood on her platform, nearing the roof of the tent, the last night she would do so. Then the house on Neibolt would be their permanent home. The circus life left behind. Certainly a positive thing given the bad turn Robert was taking. She gazes down at Robert as Pennywise. He put on his clown face and performed his act with the gags and humor, but privately, he was different. Some shadow had overtaken him. Something she knew wasn't quite right.

Something to do with this town. That she felt. The people, the atmosphere. It was...unsettling. For reasons she couldn't comprehend. Perhaps settling down here wasn't the right decision.

Inhaling a deep breath, Agnes swings down from the platform, about to perform her final act when a loud 'snap' echos throughout the tent as the swivel that was holding the rope shatters. The audience gasps and screams in alarm as Agnes plummets to the ground.

Robert runs to her lifeless body laying in the center of the ring, cradling her in his arms, touching her cheek, feeling her heartbeat slowing.

"No, no...why?" he whimpers, before he turns his head up at the ceiling. "Why did you do this?!" he cries as the Ringmaster Norman Claude and the laborers watching from the sidelines dash over to aid.

Just outside, Ivan and Maurice are pacing impatiently in their metal cages. An invisible force opens the latch of each, the two lions pouncing out as Isaac shouts, taken by surprise by their sudden escape. The two large cats attack him, tearing out his throat before turning their sights to the circus entrance, the chaotic sounds of the people drawing them in.

Nearby, a kerosene lamp atop a crate that a few laborers had been using tips over, the flame crawling towards the flap of the entrance.

Inside, the lions attack. Anyone and anything in their path. Tearing at clothing and flesh alike, the people screaming in confusion only fuels their bloodthirsty rampage. Outside in Agnes' wagon, Emma sits, hugging Fred to her as she sees through the small window the tent becoming engulfed in flames. The frantic spectators all knock each other down as they try to excape both the blaze and the lions.

Inside, Robert remains holding Agnes in his arms as the top of the tent starts to collapse as the fire engulfs it.

Emma stays sitting in the wagon, weeping as she hears the ensuing chaos, too frightened to move. Just as she decides to move to open the door, it bursts open, with her father standing before her.

Oddly calm.

"Daddy!" Emma runs into his arms, noting for one brief moment how cold his torso felt as she snakes her arms around him.

"Where's mommy?" Emma queries, tears cutting down her pink cheeks as she gazes up at her stone-faced father as he leads her away from the inferno, the lions now outside the burning tent, still attacking those that managed to escape from inside.

"Daddy, we can't leave mommy."

Robert halts, turning his head slowly to look down at his daughter. Emma stares back, eyes damp and red. There is a strange emptiness within his irises. She feels a chill travel along her spine as her heart drops to her stomach as they continue to stare at each other.

"Where's my daddy?" she asks in such a low intone that the words are barely even a whisper. She works her hand loose from his, still maintaining eye contact.

Robert only smiles calmly, derisively, his pupils taking on an orange glow that matches the fire burning against the night sky. His mouth then opens, revealing three tiny balls of orange light.

"Come into my lights, Emma."

Emma's eyes cloud over as her stuffed lion drops from her fingers.

It's only a few weeks later that the horror of the fire is forgotten. The death toll is said to be in the hundreds, however, the exact number is unknown.

Decades later, while reading about the great circus fire of 1881, Mike Hanlon comes across a black and white photo of a tall clown, standing before a wagon, painted along its sides is 'Pennywise The Dancing Clown.'

Beside him is a little brunette girl, holding a stuffed lion, a bright smile across her face.

#pennywise #fanfiction #Robert Gray #no smut #might get creeped out though

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blackswaneuroparedux · 5 years

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walaw17 asked: Any thoughts on Scottish independence?

I have tried avoiding answers about Scottish independence and by proxy Brexit because like everyone else I am just bored into numbness by the whole on-going soap opera saga. There’s no escaping it. Even within families the conversation around the dinner table is about the next referendum and by proxy, Brexit.

I have Scottish roots on my father’s side and so when I meet my Scottish cousins up in Scotland for weddings, funerals and the like the topic does come up. This summer I was up in the Angus glens for the annual ‘Glorious 12th’ - the start of the shooting season - to join a family shooting party to shoot grouse and share a feast afterwards.

Most of the clan and family friends gathered would be High Tory. Thus they are very much in favour of the Union as they are strong monarchists to boot - even if they have fought for and against the crown at different times in their gilded past. They remain fierce Scottish patriots to the extent that they (good naturedly!) admonish me for taking my Scottish ancestry for granted and being ‘Anglicised’ on my father’s side.

I believe the Scots are for the largely loyal to the Union and they proved that at the last referendum on Scottish independence. But Brexit is now added into the mix and its has clouded the picture somewhat for many Scots. It’s easy to see why.

If I take the Scottish part of my family and their clan. As loyal as they are to the Union there were grumblings about how Scotland seems to be pushed to the margins as Little Englanders run around and use the cover of nationalist fervour to concentrate wealth and power in the City of London to become a free market Singapore 2.0. Even worse leave the United Kingdom vulnerable to the whimsical mercies of Donald Trump if we ever did a trade deal.

Where the Scots differ from the English is that they are natural Euro-philes. Scotland has always been close to France - even shared past Queens. The Scots are naturally outward looking people who in their proud history have always been travelers to the world - to seek work, or settle in new lands, or to trade. Look at the the British Empire, the Scots virtualy ran the empire and even populated it as far as India and North America. So one can’t ignore the impulse of the Scots to not turn its back on Europe.

The first minister of Scotland, Nicola Sturgeon, now proposes a second Scottish referendum. While politically justifiable even if it’s opportunistic, this is not the best way forward.

Less than three years removed from the first referendum, in which Scotland voted to remain in the UK by 55%, the question of national sovereignty returns to the political forefront. While 52% of the UK opted to leave the EU, 62% of Scots voted to remain Citing the manifesto of her Scottish National Party (SNP), which holds the majority in the Scottish Parliament, Ms. Sturgeon stated that Brexit constitutes a significant and material change from the 2014 vote and a new referendum is necessary. In this, the first minister is right to call for a referendum, as circumstances have unquestionably changed. Forced to leave a union most Scots prefer, the nation should have the right to reevaluate the partnership with their southern neighbours.

Scotland is better off remaining part of the UK than leaving it. The SNP, a separatist group at heart, is misleading its countrymen by saying otherwise. The timetable set by Ms. Sturgeon places undue pressure to resolve Brexit during an already tight window of two years. With Greenland taking roughly seven years to finalise its departure from the European Economic Community, it is hard to believe the UK, a political and economic behemoth in the region, departing in a mere couple. The timetable also provides Scots with little ability to make an informed decision. Much uncertainty exists regarding Brexit and its future ramifications for the UK after Oct 31st. These are not empty words, as Scots increasingly believe that there should not be another referendum in the next few years.

Even for a leader with high approval ratings like Ms. Sturgeon, referendums are risky. The first minister need not look further than her European counterparts, where referendums in the UK and Italy led to the self-inflicted downfalls of David Cameron and Matteo Renzi. Ms. Sturgeon would be wise to learn from the past, as referendums can have dire and unpredictable consequences on a political career. She should act more like the citizens she was elected to represent, who currently have little appetite for another vote. Even if one were held, the most recent polls shows only 37% of Scots supporting Scottish independence.

Arguing for departure from the UK may play well politically, but it would have disastrous ramifications for the small northern nation.

How did we get here?

Through the inattention of the leaders of the British government of the two major political parties is one obvious answer. Labour Prime Minister Tony Blair was eager to devolve power from London to representative assemblies in Scotland and Wales, despite the constitutional problems. Large majorities of Scottish and Welsh parliamentary constituencies elect Labour members of the House of Commons, and particularly in Scotland there was deep discontent with the policies of Conservative Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher. They associated them with the inevitable decline of Scotland’s heavy industries — steel, shipbuilding — and the high unemployment that resulted. Glasgow, once the proud “Second City of the Empire,” as you can readily imagine when you see its impressive century-old downtown office buildings, was particularly hard hit. Scotland, since the Act of Union of 1707, has provided a disproportionate share of Britain’s philosophers, statesmen (11 prime ministers including its most recent in Blair, Brown, and even Cameron), colonial administrators and military officers and men.

Now the Scottish economy is dominated by the public sector, and the Scots are suffused with self-pity over what they regard as the underfunding of the welfare state. Scotland’s second Parliament went into operation in 1999, with Labour party stalwart Donald Dewar as chief minister and with power over much of Scottish domestic policy, including the ability to raise taxes. Indeed under the 1707 Act of Union, Scotland retained Scottish law rather than the English common law, kept the Presbyterian established Church of Scotland rather than the episcopal established Church of England; and under later legislation ran its own education system.

But in 2007, as Labour’s popularity was declining in the UK generally, Labour lost its majority in the Scottish Parliament and the Scottish National Party’s Alex Salmond became chief minister. With a Scots Nats majority, Salmond pushed for the referendum and he got an apparently absent-minded Conservative Prime Minister David Cameron to agree to terms favourable to the separatists: the 16-year-old vote, the exclusion of Scots in the military or otherwise living outside Scotland, the fact that a “yes” vote favours separation rather than continuation of a relationship that has produced one of the world’s greatest nations for 307 years.

Scottish independence advocates argue that an independent Scotland will be able to tax itself to its heart’s content and will be able to draw on endless North Sea oil revenues to pay for whatever level of social services and community provision Scots want. But that’s unlikely. North Sea oil production is declining, and a pro-independence vote would be followed by negotiations between England (or rUK, rest of United Kingdom, as some dub it) over the division of oil resources — and division of the national debt.

UK authorities have made it plain that Scotland is not welcome to retain the UK pound, and that if it does (as Panama and Ecuador have the U.S. dollar as their currency), Scottish financial institutions won’t get a bailout if they get into trouble. So it seems likely that the two major Scottish banks and other financial institutions will move their headquarters and legal residence to London if Scotland votes for independence.

The EU’s doctrine of ‘subsidiarity’ seems superficially pro-devolution and the Treaty of Maastricht created the ‘European Committee of the Regions’ to promote regional identities against national capitals. But what is the reality? Neither Spain nor France will permit the precedent of secessionists joining the EU. During the 2014 Scottish Independence referendum, the European Commission said Scotland would not inherit the UK’s membership of the EU.

Brussels instinctively backed Madrid against Catalonia, prompting famous Breton musician Alan Stivell to lament “Catalonia’s political prisoners represents the suicide of the idea of Europe”. And the EU has a poor track record of looking after small states like Ireland. Brussels forced two ‘People’s Votes’ after Irish referendums went against the Nice and Lisbon treaties. The bail-out imposed on Irish taxpayers, politicisation of the Irish border and Corporation Tax harmonisation fuel rising Irish Euro-scepticism.

For all this politics are about passion and not reason, especially when you deal in mobilising (low information fed) populist sentiment.

This is why I fear that the economic arguments against Scottish independence, while strong on the merits, are less likely to be persuasive than an appeal to cosmopolitanism and history: the fact that Scotland, as part of the United Kingdom, has in many ways led the world over the last 307 years, intellectually in the Scottish Enlightenment of the eighteenth century (which helped inspire America’s Founding Fathers), economically in the industrial revolution, politically in the British Empire and then the British Commonwealth of Nations. Scotland looms larger in the world as part of the UK than it would as a separate nation.

The first minister of Scotland, Nicola Sturgeon, has the right and perhaps may even be right to hold a Scottish referendum in the near future, but she should not do so at the expense of her citizens’ prosperity. Once the ramifications of Brexit and voting to leave the UK are fully known, then Sturgeon could consider proposing another referendum.

But I hope the arguments against independence prove successful and that whenever Scotland has a second referendum the vast majority of Scots vote ’No’. And if or when that happens the Scots will cease to be transfixed by the idea of secession, as have voters in Canada’s Quebec. Casting aside a working relationship which has had such outstanding results for the (by no means assured) chance of a slightly higher-spending welfare state seems like a foolish idea.

I have argued with Scottish family and friends that Scottish independence would disturb our identities more profoundly, in ways that few yet grasp.

Our modern politics are Whiggish. Even the name “Whig” comes from the term “whiggamor” meaning a Scots cattle-driver. As someone who was raised High Tory values from an early age, I find that hard to concede but it’s painfully true certainly from the 17th and 18th Centuries onwards with the rise of parliamentary democracy. I suspect it’s even harder for Marxist inspired leftists to stomach given the socialist driven Labour Party have traditionally worked within Whiggish principles despite their fiery rhetoric being matched only by their incompetence to actually govern.

Whiggism favouring the theories and practices that evolved in the formation of the British constitution. But a lot of Whiggish ideas evolved out of High Toryism and so as a committed British royalist I have a strong attachment to the Anglican Church, and of course the British constitution is modelled upon and arose directly from Anglican theories of governance. But it is British, not English. Perhaps because her name begins with E, Elizabeth Saxe-Coburg and Gotha is sometimes thought of as an English monarch. But she is Elizabeth I of Scotland, of a German family introduced to rule in Britain not just in England. We have little, if any, reason to imagine that, absent the joining of crowns in 1603 or the Union of 1707, the constitution of England (or England and Wales) would have evolved remotely to resemble the British constitution as we have had it.

British Whiggism has not only slowly seeped into and eroded the ideological underpinnings of High Toryism (think of Thatcherism rather than Lord Salisbury) but it has also ben entrenching a Whiggish inspired constitution over the past 400 years or so. But if Scotland leaves, that constitution and its history are over. There is little reason at base to imagine an English-only constitution any more (or less) likely to evolve in a future direction I would favour than, say, a European constitution. If Britain is literally finished – if the Union is broken and our constitution is no more – why would an England-alone future be any better than, say, membership of the Single European State? England survived perfectly happily as a component of a larger Union within Britain. Why should it be any less content as part of a larger union in the EU Federation?

The reality is that despite the marginalising of High Toryism, it is the Conservative party as the party of Britain, that has been the inheritor of the Whiggish tradition and appointed protector of the Whiggish constitution. If Scotland leaves the Union the Conservative Party would be finished in its present form, because it would dominate England so overwhelmingly that it would inevitably split. To be sure, it would perhaps last two or three more General Elections, in which with huge majorities it would govern in England (Wales doubtless becoming semi-autonomous and Northern Ireland departing to join Scotland forthwith). But no party that won 75 per cent and more of the seats in the House of Commons could last for long. Our adversarial politics needs an opposition as well as a governing party. So the Conservative Party would split, perhaps into Tories and the rest.

This is why ironically I believe in Brexit even if our current crop of incompetent politicians are making a real dog’s dinner out of it.

Passions aside, for me Brexit is an opportunity to reboot unionism between England, Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland.

It may twitch my High Tory nerves a little but I am coming around to the view that Brexit, the biggest ever vote of confidence in the political project of the United Kingdom, is an opportunity to fashion a new unionism. This new unionism might well have a sharper focus on citizenship and rights but it might also trash the canard that Brexiteers are little Englanders. A clean Brexit can rejuvenate marginalised and fraying institutions that were once the bedrock of a collective national identity. But only if we re-orienteer ourselves and go back to the original principle that allegiances of Unionism are to institutions and symbols of nationhood and shared national values. If we can do that as a union then one might be able to capture a greater diversity that narrow nationalisms rather than widening them - under of course a unifying national figure of a monarch.

Even the most ardent of the free market Brexiteers will have to accept that the best one can hope for is a Unionism as the quintessential one nation politics. Here such Unionism acknowledges the reality of an inegalitarian society made up of people with different talents but tempered by roles and responsibilities that has an ingrained sense of a duty of care to others. But equally Unionism stands for equality amongst citizens governed by the same rules and respecting the authority of enduring institutions. All votes are of equal value in one of the world’s oldest and most successful democracies where MPs serve constituents rather than outside sectional or multi-national corporate interests.

Ironically then the best chance Scotland for its future is Brexit. Brexit will protect the Union that puts the ‘Great’ into Britain. Unionists can be confident we will stay better together in the good Union of the United Kingdom as we leave the bad union of the EU.

Thanks for your question.

#question #scottish independence #britain #scotland #union #brexit

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theysaywhatasadsight · 5 years

Text

The Trouble With Wanting, Chapter 3

A/n: i have like zero excuses sksjhf its em exams; anyhoo this is chapter 3 of me and @ciarawritesmarvel ‘s fic for Fic Wars hosted by @chillingbucky and @revengingbarnes

Chapter One Chapter Two Series Masterlist

"Spill. Seriously. I brought out the good chai, too." Shruti sipped on hers as Y/N suddenly jerked out of her daydream. Her best friend since times immemorial, the girl sitting opposite her had seen all her phases and scandals; Not that she had too many to boast of.

"Nothing. Captain America saved my life on that stupid date, and then turns out his daughter is in my class. That's all."

"Mhmm. And I'm the queen of England and you're fucking Meghan Markle. Tell me you at least flirted with him. Or got his number! God, imagine dating an Avenger." Now Shruti was the one with the dreamy eyes.

She loved the girl to death, but the girl was too unrealistic sometimes. Not that she'd complain, of course. Sweet, polite Cap would probably be only concerned with her until his daughter was studying under her care. Right. Right?

Not that she was only concerned about Sarah because well, her father was who he was. Surely growing up around violence and weaponry wasn't good for her. She hadn't seen the kid in the public eye, so maybe she had grown up sheltered and wouldn't have her existence revealed to the world yet. The kid was bright and loved talking to people, Y/N would hate if some idiotic pap took advantage and left her scarred for life.

"You have that look."

"What look?"

"Oh you know, the one. The 'I'm a counsellor, I'm thinking deeply. Hmm, maybe you should do this. Maybe that behaviour is harmful for you.'" Pausing her rant, Shruti grabbed a biscuit on the tray. "I'm sure the kid is growing up okay. Hell of a childhood, but at least she's got a good head on her shoulders."

"Shru, she's like 3."

"It's a tough world out there. I was doing my taxes when I was two."

"Jesus, crack a good joke sometimes."

I should not be this creepy. Y/N muttered to herself as she sat overlooking the kids colouring, Sarah's blond hair quite reminiscent of her father. She clearly was a daddy's girl, which made her wonder how much her mother was involved in her upbringing.

Unless her research skills had really gone to shit, there wasn't much evidence of Sarah's mom. She didn't pick her up from school or attended any of their events. Steve, she had learned, looking at old photos and chatting to other teachers, somehow managed to come to all of them.

Y/N put all thoughts of mysterious fathers and absent mothers to the back of her head as she exclaimed and gasped over the drawings the children rushed to show her.

Spoke too soon. The kid had been waiting for over half an hour, if not more. No sign of telltale baseball caps or aviators.

"Hey there, Sarah. Cap not here yet?"

"He must be busy." The little girl sighed, resting her hands in her chin. "Maybe he forgot."

"Well I'm sure he didn't. Maybe it's the traffic, yeah?"

"Mhmm."

Y/N sat down next to Sarah on the sidewalk. "You wanna play a game?"

After several rounds of stone, paper, scissors and another one where clasped hands meant bad luck, it was clear that Steve had indeed, forgotten.

Checking her phone and realising she would be incredibly late reaching home, she got up, holding out a hand to the kid.

"How about I drop you home? Can you give me directions?" Sarah beamed up at her.

"You know the tower?"

"You...stay at the Avengers Tower?" Y/N stuttered at her.

"Where else would I go?"

Even though the receptionist had looked mildly spooked when sarah had shown up with Y/N in tow, she had let them pass on the girl's insistence, eyeing Y/N suspiciously.

Couldn't leave her at the door, okay? I'm just being careful. No curiosity, whatsoever.

Guided by the lilting voice of an A.I., Sarah led her up to what seemed to be the common living area, where there was clear evidence of destruction that can only be wrought by sugar high toddlers.

"Aunty Nat! Uncle Clint! Anyone here? Peterrrrr!" Sarah called out, letting go of Y/N's hand momentarily.

"Clint's out. Peter's not home yet and ooh-" Natasha Romanoff of all people stood in front of her suddenly, fiery red hair held back with a knot and a child squirming in her arms. She blew air kisses at Sarah then turned her attention to the other woman.

"Fri mentioned Sarah was bringing a friend." Y/N tried to look for any signs of hostility but found only warm eyes and a confused furrow of eyebrows.

She's a spy, remember? She's supposed to be good at this.

"Yes, uhm, actually St-Captain forgot to mention that he wouldn't be picking up Sarah today, so I came to drop her off."

"Oh Really? Funny, I remember Steve telling me he would get her after he came back from...nevermind. He must've been delayed."

"Yeah." Y/N sighed and smiling at Sarah one last time, turned back towards the elevator. "So, uh...nice meeting you."

Natasha smiled at her. "Absolutely."

"Not bad, I can see why the entire clan is smitten with her." Nat remarked to Clint as both assassins stood in the training room, munching on strawberries and watching Peter and Bucky train.

"His left is weak, Parker! Pay attention!" She barked out.

"Did Steve genuinely forget to come home or…?" Clint tailed off. "I mean, he generally calls. And as for the teacher, yes, she's cute, great with kids. What's not to like?"

"Checked out some records, turns out she was at the same restaurant, the one that blew up."

"Heh. Funny. Imagine being saved by a dude and finding out he's your student's parent."

"Yes, indeed." Nat slapped Clint's hand as he moved to take another fruit, "Get in contact with Rogers. The kids are getting antsy."

A week had passed since she had dropped Sarah off. Since then, an assortment of various Avengers, poorly disguise had come to fetch the kid. On an occasion, a teen, possibly an intern on babysitting duty. He did seem quite excited to see her though, so it was possible he was another well sheltered kid. He was the only one that had come and greeted her, and informed her that Captain Rogers was back, he was merely 'mildly injured'.

She saw him herself three days later, hand bandaged. She beamed at him from afar as he picked up Sarah and turned to look at her, smiling lightly.

She ran into him into the grocery store, shopping to replace Shruti's stock of coffee ice cream they had eaten while binging some old movie she understood only half of, busy imagining herself and a very handsome man she was mildly in love with in the place of the lead actors.

Stop behaving like a 16 year old with a crush. You're a grown ass woman. She chided herself as she leaned into the freezer, grabbing a tub. She leaned a little too far, and braced to slip on her ass, but was caught by a pair of strong hands. Turning to thank her saviour, she was pleasantly surprised by seeing it was Steve.

"Oh dear, seems you're always saving me." She smiled up at him. Imagining it was pleasant enough but in real life it sent a shiver down her spine.

"When a pretty lady needs rescuing, seems criminal not to help. Not to mention it's kinda my job."

Is he blushing? Wait, wait, what if this is mutual?

Her musing was interrupted by Sarah yelling her name, barrelling down the aisle. She picked her up and chatted with her while Stevd continued to shop.

"Ms. L/N, are you free Saturday night?"

"Well, I think so. Why, are you having a party?"

"Nooooo, daddy is also free that day! What a coincidence!!" She grinned mischievously.

"Sarah." Steve chided.

Y/N set her down carefully and pretended to think. "Hmm, there is a new place near The Booksborough market I've been wanting to try out, can't hurt to have extra security." She winked at Steve who was as red as a tomato by now. Unnoticed by both, Sarah slipped out YN's phone from her bag and fed Steve's number in it.

"He'll call you." She announced, bouncing up to Steve and grasping his hand.

"Oh, he'd better." Y/N waved at the man before turning and walking away.

"You really need to keep quiet sometimes, Sarah. Not all advice from Uncle Bucky is good."

"Yes but if I wasn't there, there would be no Saturday plans. Now, payment, Ice Cream? Please?"

#fic wars 2019 #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x y/n #cap #captain america x reader #captain america imagine #captain america x y/n

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thisunfoldinglife · 4 years

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How I Came To Live in the Woods

Two years ago, my husband and I bought our dream house. This lovely seventies fixer-upper has robbed us of every last pound, consumed months of our time, and has signed us up for another decade of sweaty evenings and weekends spent painting, repairing, and renovating. We sometimes stop, paintbrush in hand, and ask each other, “any regrets?” Well…no—but we both pine for simpler times.

I look around and marvel at this big house and everything we’ve accumulated since our move to England. We arrived eight years ago with only a few suitcases and a handful of hopes. Unlike normal people, we didn’t ship our furniture and household goods from America. Instead, we had a massive yard sale and sold the rest on Craig’s List. I said goodbye to my sewing machine, guitar, bike, and camping equipment. We had to rebuy everything from brooms to blankets, dishes to clocks, silverware to shoes. It’s amazing how long it takes to rebuild your collection of stuff, especially when money is scarce.

Yet all this didn’t faze me. I was already well versed in the art of minimalism. When I was twenty-eight, all my worldly possessions resided inside the boot of my car. They would remain there for two years, while I tried out life as a vagabond. When you’re young, the promise of adventure can outweigh all fear. When it’s just you—no partner, no kids—just you and the great big sky, there are more chances you can take.

It all started after reading Brazilian writer Paulo Coelho’s book, “The Pilgrimage”, which sparked my desire to embark on a solo journey to Northern Spain to walk a 500-mile pilgrimage route that’s existed since the Middle Ages. Looking back, my decision to walk this ancient path set into motion a new trajectory for my life that wouldn’t be altered for several years. Walking the path for forty days, with nothing in my backpack but my journal, clothes, food, and water, certainly perfected my predilection for a minimal existence, but it was truly the time before and after the pilgrimage, that tested my resolve to embrace the unconventional life.

I was desperate to get to Spain. I had travelled the length and breadth of The States, but outside of a quick hop to London, I hadn’t properly travelled overseas. I didn’t have any form of savings to purchase a plane ticket or even feed myself for the two months I’d be gone, yet still, I couldn’t ignore the pull to go. I had a sharp distaste for fear and regret, and a stronger desire to be the bold protagonist in my own life story, so I needed to find a way.

I was living at the time in Flagstaff, Arizona. This high-desert mountain town boasts turquoise blue skies and perpetual sunshine to beckon everyone outdoors. At 7,000 feet above sea level, it’s cooler than its neighbouring desert towns, and yields deep winter snows that will never meet the cacti of the south. Flagstaff’s natural beauty draws an alternative collection of hikers, skiers, hippies, and transients. The cost of living is high, but the desire to be there great, and so many people find whatever means they can to stay. I had heard about a few odd souls who camped in the surrounding national forest for weeks at a time. I would be one of them. It was the most feasible means of funding my travels. I was renting an apartment then, with a kindred friend, Marike. Partial to avoiding conformity, she too, knew the value in travel and adventure, and so she wasn’t hard to convince. Together, we gave up our apartment to head for the woods. I quickly sold my furniture, giving away everything that wouldn’t fit inside my small Toyota. All I had left were my books, photos, clothing and gear.

Marike and I set up our first camp in a clearing of aspens and pines a mile down a long dirt lane. It was close enough to make the morning trek to work, yet far enough from the main road to ease our minds about cops or potential serial killers. My tent was narrow and thin, but sufficient. We’d forage for firewood, heat cans of soup on the stove at night and pour water for each other to wash up in the morning. Every other day, we’d pay to shower at the local hostel. Being April, the snow still fell, and so the coldest nights would find us curled up in the car beneath heaps of blankets, where sleep was fickle and fragmented. It was challenging, uncomfortable, and at times scary, but also exhilarating. The difficulties were dotted with starry skies, deep conversations, and the perpetual fresh mountain air that magically invigorated us despite it all. I felt raw and alive, my eyes open and senses heightened. My inner strength was blossoming, and my fears grew smaller, giving way to a confidence that began to permeate all aspects of my life.

Soon after, I left for Spain. Walking the pilgrimage was an epic alter reality that inspired and stimulated me daily. The path had brought many wonders and gifts—among them, a thirst for freedom, both internal and external. I felt tethered to nothing and life’s possibilities seemed boundless. The journey had liberated me from nearly all my money and material possessions, so when I returned to Flagstaff, I wasn’t ready to buy furniture, pay rent, and adopt a normal life. So, I returned to the woods. Marike had left for other adventures, and I was on my own, uncertain of how long I’d be there.

I was a vulnerable single woman alone in the forest, but through either ignorance or grace, I felt protected. I enjoyed the town and the trails by day and spent time with friends in the evening. I’d often find my way to the local bookstore before bed. Their late hours gave me a pseudo living room to read and write before driving back to the forest. On my way to the woods, I’d roll down the window to inhale the sweet smell of wood smoke escaping from well-lit houses, where people sprawled happily on couches, glasses of wine in hand. The line between liberating and lonely began to blur as winter closed in, but still, I was in a pleasant state of surrender. I believed life would shepherd me to extraordinary things, and magically it did.

At a random party, in a place I had never been, I met a married couple, Vickie and Bruce, who were soon to sail around the coast of Mexico for three months. I foolishly disregarded them as a wealthy privileged pair whom I’d have nothing in common with. Yet as our conversation grew, I quickly realised that they were making sacrifices to pursue their dreams, the same as I. And, when they asked me to look after their pets and home while they were away, I was humbled with euphoric gratitude. It was a blessed encounter that, not only granted me a home during the cold winter months but brought me a lasting friendship. For this couple, who were once two strangers, became dear friends. And their home became a haven of warmth and stability, to write, relax, and even grieve when my father unexpectedly died months after. And, two years later, when I met my husband, Vickie presided over our wedding.

Vickie and Bruce went on several long jaunts to Mexico, in which I was always happy to look after their home and pets. And in between, I found several other house-sitting jobs. I stayed in homes with hot tubs and hammocks, along rivers and among mountains. The most remote dwellings were quiet and wild, and I’d spy elk, coyote, and bear. Some were affluent, and afforded me weeks of luxury, soaking in big baths, lounging on plush furniture and dining in stylish kitchens. Others were more rustic. One January, I looked after a cat in a converted camper van on the edge of town. Without any electricity or water, the camper had only a small built-in wood burner to shield me from the worst of the winter cold. In three feet of snow, I’d chop logs into kindling and fall asleep to a roaring fire that demanded to be rebuilt several hours later, yanking me from sleep to action.

When one job finished, another would harmoniously begin. I only occasionally camped in the woods in the interims. Everything seemed to fall into place to facilitate this unconventional existence. It gave me courage, trust, confidence, and the precious gift of time. In escaping from the rat race, I bought myself time—to simply be—a luxury I have so little of now. It’s hard to believe I lived like that for two years. But in my wandering spell, I’d somehow cultivated true peace within myself. And even now, in life’s most constricting moments, my soul still wanders free because of it.

My vagabond days eventually proved their limitations, and I began to crave a place of my own. With great resistance, I exchanged my car—which brought me such freedom—for an apartment, where I acquired a rescue cat, a collection of mismatched furniture, and soon after, my husband.

I look around now at all this stuff—sofas and beds, tables and toys. I never thought I’d accumulate so much. Yet instead of weighing me down, it pleasantly anchors me. I think children need rooms and toys to call their own. As do I. And from the comfort of my couch, I now enjoy the smell of wine and wood-smoke from my own chimney. Someday I might don my backpack again and set off on another pilgrimage. Maybe I’ll even find a quiet spot in the forest to dwell for a while. But first, this house needs work and love, and as it’s filled to the brim, there is no more room for regret.

#minimalism #meaningoflife #introspectivewriting #whatarewedoinghere #~~#vagabondlife #rustic living

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in-flagrante · 5 years

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Michelle Dockery reveals ‘responsibility’ of taking Downton Abbey to Hollywood

By Richard Aldhous | August 28, 2019

MiNFOOD exclusive: ‘Never go back’, they say. And yet, in the case of Michelle Dockery, as a fan first and an actress second, the yearning to unveil the next chapter of the Downton Abbey narrative was simply too great to resist.

For five years from 2010, television drama Downton Abbey ascended, almost imperiously, to the point of attaining cult status, as did its characters.

Perhaps it was the mystery, the intrigue, perhaps just the accessibility, or maybe, quite simply, in the social and economic climates of chaos that have enveloped us over the course of the past decade, we all just needed a generous dose of wild escapism.

Whatever the reason, a global fanbase was able to witness actress Michelle Dockery’s whirlwind elevation from British TV also-ran to arguably the ultimate doyenne of period drama dynamism.

‘A responsibility’ to return

Returning feels strange for Michelle Dockery, who admits she had already spent a large amount of time grieving Downton’s passing.

“When we completed filming at Highclere Castle after the final series the sadness swept over me,” she admits.

“It was profound. It really felt like we were giving the house back to the owners and it was the final time we would ever get to enjoy it. It was an emotional ride but I suppose we always hoped there might be something more.

“When the offer to do it again came along it still wasn’t something I could just accept straight away,” she admits.

“Yet I very quickly I realised that, In many ways, I am a fan of Downton as well as a character in it. It’s down to all of us to keep things moving and to see where the story goes next, and that’s a pretty big responsibility to have.”

Already, it seems clear Downton’s rebirth won’t just stop at an elongated version of the TV series. Even before press interviews for the new movie, creator Julian Fellowes let slip that a sequel was already in the offing. “I haven’t killed off half the cast in a Coronation Street-style crash, so a follow-up is a definite possibility,” he admitted.

Downton Abbey is back – what to expect

What we know of the new movie is that the aristocratic Crawley family find themselves reuniting with their downstairs staff when the Earl of Grantham (Hugh Bonneville) is told George V and Queen Mary will be visiting.

It’s 1927 and the house has been forced to tighten its purse strings, but former head butler Charles Carson returns to reassemble familiar faces, ensuring the iconic home’s hosting duties are undertaken impeccably.

Filming took the form of 143 scenes across 50 days, with Dockery – as Lady Jane (later Talbot) – and creator Julian Fellowes both admitting in interviews that the passing of time made it difficult to readily bring together a considerable cast, many of whom had progressed on to new projects in different corners of the world.

They needn’t have worried.

Despite many having tried to pigeon-hole Downton’s appeal, it is one of those dramas that just works, and it draws people in, just as it did right the way back to its refreshingly accessible debut series in 2010.

While period dramas and British television go hand-in-hand, Highclere Castle’s ability to shift further into the realms of intrigue, betrayal and lust saw its popularity soar way

Downton Abbey lives on

And it is that ability to shake up the period drama concept that is ultimately what has forged its success.

In its TV version it used soap opera actors in serious drama, enveloped fast-paced storylines with longer-running ‘slow burners’, and even embraced an advert-interrupted Sunday night broadcast slot.

All of these were moves staunchly against the typically sluggish BBC fayre that had dragged this genre across British screens for decades.

As a concept, it proved that modern producers could cast drama of any subject to a thirsty audience if the presentation and delivery was strong.

And while top-ranking celebrity fans of the ilk of Julianne Moore, Tom Ford and Gary Oldham have all clamoured over Downton’s beauty, so too has its accessibility crossed over as many varying social classes as you’d find present at Highclere Castle itself.

“I worked with Julianne on Non-Stop and every time I came on set she was tapping me up for information,” Dockery laughs. “I have always been in such awe of Julianne, and for her to be a fan of the show, it was just brilliant.

“Gary Oldman was another one. It was at an event in New York and I was standing there with Laura Carmichael and he strode over and just launched into how much he loved the show. That was amazing.

“I was blind-sided too by Tom Ford, before I even got to tell him how much I loved his clothes! He was like, ‘Great work on Downton!’ I know, as a proud actress, you’re meant to just brush these things off, but there are times when you just have to take the praise and be glad of it.”

While as a TV entity, it was felt in 2015 that Downton had run its course, the way American audiences embraced the concept fuelled the prospect of a film version, and in Tinseltown reality is never far behind concept.

Downton: A global love affair

Consider as well the clamour to get access to The Exhibition. Its opening in New York followed Singapore’s lead, and while the recreation of Downton sets, from Lady Mary’s bedroom to Mr Carson’s pantry to the servants’ quarter provided an incentive to visit, what people were paying to see essentially amounted to a museum of early 20th century stately home artefacts. Regardless, the touring showcase proved hugely popular. Its next stop was Florida and this year it arrived in Boston.

“I think when America fell in love with Downton, that’s when we realised just how big the whole thing had become,” the 37-year-old actress admits. “You can’t really get any bigger than that, so much so that The Exhibition almost felt like it was at home even though it was several thousand miles away.”

Taking on the big screen

Downton now joins an exclusive list of TV dramas that have been reinvented in film.

From Sex and the City to Charlie’s Angels, Miami Vice to Mission: Impossible, The Addams Family to South Park, the opportunity very often proves itself worthy of outweighing the risk.

In this instance, Dockery believes the movie’s success will come down to scriptwriting expertise, just as it did its TV predecessor. “Unless you have something totally solid in script and in plot, you have nothing.

“Julian Fellowes is such a remarkable scribe who can give 23 different characters full-bodied, soulful profound funny storylines – it is all testament to his talent. He’s extraordinary.”

What Downton ultimately offers audiences is a connection to the past and a place at the top table of old-fashioned England, at a time when so much of what we know now was being created, from the Industrial Revolution, post-Edwardian sensibilities and the gradual blurring of social class boundaries.

“I think people are comforted by it,” she says. “They love the nostalgia for the show, the period… a time when life seemed much simpler, and it’s probably the last time it was like that. People back then just got on with it and went about their lives in relatively straightforward ways. Perhaps there was a lot to be said for that, after all.

“What Downton offers to its audience is a really solid outer shell of society, but delve inside and people will tell you they watch it for this character or that… they watch it for Maggie’s one-liners, they watch it for the costumes. It’s whatever everyone feels.

“Almost right from the start, Downton struck a chord with people and we would never have expected it. It was a wonderful opportunity to do the show, and the movie gives me exactly the same great feeling.”

While Lily James and Sue Johnston appear to have missed out, Dockery’s involvement in the project was absolutely pivotal – and the lure of Downton was irresistible, despite the negative publicity that can accompany actors winding back the clock to revive past glories.

“It is an amazing thing to be a part of but it doesn’t define us entirely, just as other seminal dramas and films don’t exclusively define other actors and actresses. It’s not something I worry about – though I appreciate the hesitation some feel towards going back to an old project.

“I am comfortable because I have done a lot of work outside of period dramas, from TV to stage productions, so I am clear of my motives and incentives.”

By the same token, Dockery, who almost quit in 2013, never especially sought out roles since the cessation of the TV series, instead taking time away from major projects.

She admits there was a sense of freedom, but she missed the security. “With Downton, you knew you had something to do every year, and losing that was a little terrifying… I’m a working actor, after all,” she laughs.

Perhaps it was more the tragic, untimely passing of her fiancé John Dineen in December 2015 that left her with an inherent yearning to re-centre.

Her work schedule was rebuilt via a sensational portrayal of Diana Christiansen in Network, in London’s West End, and for a long time that was commitment enough.

“Through everything though, I don’t think that there was a day that went by where someone didn’t ask if there was going to be a film of the TV series made.

“To get this movie made means, for a short time at least, the questions will stop!”

https://www.mindfood.com/article/michelle-dockery-reveals-responsibility-of-taking-downton-abbey-to-hollywood/

#michelle dockery #interviews #downton abbey #downton abbey movie #a sequel is strongly hinted

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