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We dance on the edge of destruction

‘Tears should have been shed when the blood was running out of our veins. It’s too late. We can only learn how to live again.’

TYPE: 1x1

LOCATION - TIME SET UP: At first, Paris - Post WWII

CHARACTERS:  Simon Dreyfus - 19 [Eddie Redmayne] → passive, creative, artistic, idealist, dreamer, adaptable, naive, avoids social situations, (book) smart, nervous, tactless, lost. James ‘Jim’ Emerson - 24-28 [Hugh Dancy] → cynic, immature, dominant, competitive, bold, leader, honest, cold, futureless, street smart, pretending, adventurous, risk taking, lost 

Quite obviously, the war changed them both, pushing Simon more into himself, his own loneliness and multiplicating hundred times what he used to feel. On the other hand, Jim used to be outgoing, bold and completely different, but the war made him grow colder. Of course, these things can be (and will be discussed, probably), and if you have any question or would like help building the before, I’m definitely here to help.

PLOT: 

Life used to be simple. Life used to be everything a kid could dream of. Glimpses of happiness and colors. Smiles, always. Colors of skins mattered, and people in Paris didn’t hear English often. Most Americans didn’t hear much French either. Thing is, life only used to be simple. Everyone had to grow up at some point. And no matter their age, everyone in Europe, in the World had to grow up when this war started.

In France, people grew afraid when the armistice was signed with the Nazis. People heard talk of free zone, free places. People left. But not all of them. Of course, it was dangerous, and of course, they should have left. But a fourteen year old couldn’t say much when his parents refused to leave their shop, a small library like this. Their whole lives.

In the US? Oh, it was still just political little nothings. People heard of a war. People cared, just enough to read the news. For now, it had nothing to do with them. They were safe, on their side of the ocean, or so they thought. Some knew better. Some parents told their children that soon the US would be part of this soon. That soon, it would be the youth’s duty to help this to stop, oh, so far away from home. But it would be an adventure, and they’d become heroes.

Simon. Fourteen. French and Jewish. Soon a yellow star will be sewn to your coat. Soon your world will fall apart, and the stars in your eyes will only be a vague souvenir.

James. Twenty. American, raised to be a catholic, only to get lost in dreams of war, of heroes. To get lost in alcohol too. But war isn’t a dream, and soon, you will see it too. It will break you.

Windows broke and books were shattered. You heard screams outside, a few minutes before. It doesn’t seem to surprise your dad. But he’s scared anyways. So is your mother, when a bullet goes through his head in the shop. Hidden in the mattress of your bed, you don’t see. But you hear everything. The words you don’t understand. The laughs. What they do to her, to your mother. But you can’t scream and you can’t cry. You wear this yellow star and this happened before. If they heard you? You’d be dead already.

And you, far away from here? With your cocky smile, swearing you will kill them all, and avenge the people they killed? People you didn’t know, people you don’t really care about. Oh, James, your youth could almost be called naive if you didn’t want blood and to simply be called a hero. But you don’t look like a hero right now. Yet you do your best. You train, you learn, you start knowing everything. And the more you know, the more you think it will be a great adventure.

You’re weak. You’re a kid. Yet you fight. For their memories and your country. For your freedom as well. After all if you weren’t fighting you’d be dead already. Just like the yellow star you ripped from your coat as you ran away.

You’re strong, but you feel your insides melting. Tomorrow is the day. The fight. The blood. You can feel death coming closer. Yet you smile. You’re a man after all. And tomorrow they’ll have reasons to be proud of you.

And you, Simon, listen to the radio, hidden in your maquis, making trains derail and trying to do the best you can to help. Trying to avenge them. But you’re still a man of letters, not of action. Yet you fight, because you don’t have any tears to cry anymore. And hope, slowly, comes back. Your innocence went away too long ago, but your naivety is still in there somewhere. You’re still a child, who grew up between bullets. And you’re afraid of death, like everyone else, but they’re coming to help, aren’t they?

As you feel death approaching in your boat, as you see people dying and the blood drying all over their clothes, their bodies, you don’t know anymore. This doesn’t seem like the colorful adventure you were waiting for. The only color you see is red, in the sand and the dust. You think of your parents and your dreams. And you see the people you got to know in training dying. It’s the way it is, Jim, you’re no hero, and if you die today, you will die like an animal.

Yet you don’t die.

And battles after battles, and death after death, as more blood is spilled, you start feeling again. 

Not like a child.

Not like a hero.

Lost, simply. Because they love you and thank you for helping, these people around.

Because they don’t care if you’re Jewish.

Because they want to know about these American men.

And you walk to Paris. The city you have to free. And you get stronger, and the revolution awakes, and soon, very soon, this war will be over, and this country free. And you win Paris. Not only you, the two of you, but all the fighters. Revolutionaries or American Troops. It looks like the French got back their capital.

Yet you, Simon, don’t really feel home anymore. You get a small appartment, oh, just a room under the roofs, white walls like white sheets of papers. And you don’t know why, they feel like your insides. Empty.

And Jim? Jim, maybe alcohol is not the right thing to drink now. You won after all. You’re a hero, just like you’ve ever wanted. But being a hero means killing, and just surviving when thousand of yours died? You don’t know anymore do you?

You only want to draw new worlds on the plain walls and get lost in them. Thing is, you can’t draw.

And you, oh you don’t care much anymore. You just want to get lost. In excess and in the lack of tears to cry. In the lack of answers and questions to ask.

One didn’t want a change.

Normality.

One only wanted adventure.

To be a hero.

But kids grew up too fast after all.

IMPORTANT RP NOTES:

Simon was fourteen in 1940, when the french-German armistice has been signed. He was sixteen when his parents died in 1942, a bit before the ‘Rafle du Vel d’Hiv' and became a revolutionary. He was part of the 2DB liberating the city with the American troops after coming back from the maquis, in the south of the country.

Jim’s age is 24 in the plot, but the ‘age range’ you could use would be 24-28, but he signed up for the war in 1943. His first fight was around June 6th 1944, for the Normandy Landings, and the last battle of his service was Paris’s liberation from the 19th to the 25th of August, where our plot starts. He still has to stay in Paris with his company for a few weeks, though it will mostly be made

The plot will start a few days after the city has been freed. There’s still a lot of work for the country itself, but the mood is at happiness, or as happy as people could be at the end of a war, when they lost a lot, or at least, their innocence.

OUT OF GAME NOTES:

I will be playing Simon. I’m not really willing to change that as this character has been mine for a while, but you can always try to make me change my mind.

Jim’s name and face can be subject to change. The name can be changed without any problem, though, for the face, I’d rather be asked first.

This plot will obviously involve mature subjects. Only apply if you’re comfortable with it.

While I do not ask for the best knowledge in history ever, please be willing to do some research to portray all of this accurately. 

If you have any question, please send it in here - You can applyhere 

This plot is currently OPEN.

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you know what’s better than les mis

attractive people singing les mis

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TOO-TOO-TOO BENEDICT-CUMBERBATCH

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i would marry google maps if google maps would let me

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Dougie Carter as Marius Pontmercy (2nd Understudy)

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The fault in our Stans - an infinity of Seb Stan things

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The fault in our Stans - an infinity of Seb Stan things

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I'M ANDRE BRETON

FUCK YOU

NO

I REFUSE

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Well that was unexpected.

"What? Me having a kid? Me having settled down and getting ready to marry someone I love? I don’t see what’s unexpected about that. It’s life. It was time for me to stop. And I’m happier that way. You can choose not to believe it, but I’ve changed. It was a night. There’s been others. But it was years ago. I don’t want more from you. Well, I do want one thing, and it’d be for you and your shitty newspaper to stop shitting on me, but then, your choice. I don’t even care. It won’t affect my career, because they do know I’m serious. Nothing unexpected about that. I’m just done with it" And so it was said, done, and Anton was over with it. Like he was over a lot of things. Flying to another world. He’d done that a few times already. From a child to an adult, from locked in to outside. Yet always hiding. But at least one thing was true. He settled down.

But I was watching that!

"But I’m talking to you right now." This whole thing made no sense. Wren couldn’t help get over excited about it though. He was acting like a pup. He probably would end up failing his auditions the day after because of it, but who cared? With an Olivier, he didn’t really need auditions anymore. Or, well, they were mostly talking, less singing, or acting. They know he could do it, even when he doubted it. It was insane, how happy his work made him. Not only his work but everything. But not being alone anymore. And he acted like a child, a thing he forgot to do for too long "And I was thinking… Maybe I should stop jumping around and we could go take a nap? Which would be much more interesting than your movie since, you know… Wait-That’s-If there’s a tap number we’ll stop after the tap number. Hit play."

"We can’t cover that up"

"Probably not. Bah, we can buy them new sheets?"

"But I love you, dammit!"

Gabriel just couldn’t believe this. For once that he’d say a word to Loup about this, for once they fought, for once it seemed to end badly. And he still melted. His heart felt like it was melting inside his chest, just from hearing these words. His hands were shaking, as he kept on signing, trying to still look somewhat serious instead of smiling like an idiot again. “I do too. I love you too, idiot. But I can’t keep going on with you sleeping around like this, and I’m sorry if I’m… I’m acting like a jealous brat but I can’t deal with the open thing anymore. Sorry. God, don’t look at my like this I just-Loup, I love you too. So here-that’s why I actually was angry. Not angry but I just-I had to let that go, I’m sorry-Please, keep me? “

"Don’t I mean anything?"

"You’re cute, honey. You do, somewhat. You mean something to my cousin, as well as his stupid boyfriend. Probably. To me? I don’t know. No, you don’t." It was strange, how she talked as she always did. Cold, towards anything who could hurt her. Cold towards everything. Even when she knew she was lying to him. And to herself. "Sorry Clyde" Two words. A name. And one she never once muttered. Roxie was never sorry. But that broken look in his eyes? Oh, she wished she could stop how it strangely hurt.

"Would you just listen?" / "Well that was unexpected." / "But I was watching that!" / "We can’t cover that up" / "But I love you, dammit!" / "Don’t I mean anything?" //Feel free to do whatever pairing/fandom you like! :)

Would you just listen?

Thoughts raced. Thoughts left lips without care. For once. Or not really for once. But that’s how Orion worked, simply. And hell, if in all these years he hadn’t learnt how to accept how he was, how his mind worked instead of trying to stop himself and change it all, what had he done? “Not planning on it. You’re being a fucking arse. You’ve been a fucking arse for days. No-wait, no, since my first damn day here? I’m not going to listen to your apologies. Much less accept them. I’m not even talking to you. You’ve abused my trust once. Hell, you’ve fucking abused me. A person. Do you not get that? And you know what? It’s been years now. But if I’ve decided one thing it’s that I’m not going to forgive you. I’m not going to think about it anymore. Wait, no, I can’t do that. But I can refuse to forgive you. I can stop being angry, that’s one thing, because I’ve decided to be happy. Because some people have taught me to be happy. To love myself before giving myself wholly to fucking assholes like you. And because of that I just-I won’t listen to you. Fuck you and everything you stand for, honestly.” He was exaggerating maybe. It’d only been four years since he left Hogwarts. Five since Tory. Five, eight months, two weeks, three days and a handful of hours since that night. Hell. He had time. But he was brave. He’d always been. “So, no, I’m not going to listen to you. I’m not going to even look at you. Go live your fucking life and don’t try to talk to me again. I’ve learnt how to live with the crap you’ve done to me, and so will you. Don’t take that for forgiveness. Take that for what it is and fucking leave. You won’t ruin it all again. Not even a second of it.” Thoughts were words. And words flew. Free. So was he now. Free, and brave, and all these things he once thought he lost, because of this very same man. His heart would never be a burden anymore, he promised that to himself. And his mind? Oh, his mind only belonged to himself.

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"Did you cover all the cameras?"

"No need to" His voice was just reduced to a whisper now, so close to the other man. It was new this feeling. It was odd. Simon could get used to it though. He would at some point. "I’ll just delete the files when we’re done. Or tomorrow. Doesn’t matter." In this moment, truly, he had no idea why his parents’ shop even needed cameras. Sure, old books were worth a lot, but covering these seemed like too much effort for now, when he just wanted closer. And damn, these new things felt too good to be true. Unbelievable. Hell, even with picture proof on these no one would believe him. Him having sex with his boyfriend in the library? Simon Dreyfus of all people. This made no sense. Guess even he could be changed by some unexpected turn of events. The kind you’d only read in books. And there he was, taking risks, for once.

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"But I was watching that!"

Orion shook his head lightly, laughing “But I don’t actually care?” Of course. He’d play the smart ass as long as he could, no matter how much he loved his little brother, annoying him had slowly became his favorite past time. He was happy now, it was much easier, and much funnier to get him annoyed. Yet, he couldn’t resist the eleven-years-old (no. Twelve. Twelve now) stupid face. You know, that kind of face a puppy makes when you kick him after he’s done something wrong. “Plus you’re not supposed to watch scary movies. You’ll have nightmares and shit and mom’s gonna kill me.” That was the poorest excuse he’d ever found. Especially when he couldn’t simply say no to his Tim. He switched to french, almost naturally. “Me regarde pas comme ca." Before sighing one last time. Of course, he’d give him his stupid movies back. "But not a word to mom. Or dad. And I’m not waking up if you end up getting nightmares. Shithead.”

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Darren Criss/Aaron Tveit Manips

Under the cut are 10 manips of Darren Criss and Aaron Tveit for thatfrenchhelper. I’ll totally add more at some point.

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i know how old a picture of time's square is depending on the bway posters

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Eddie Redmayne for Tank Magazine [2010]

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embrace your differences and the qualities about you that you think are weird. eventually, they’re going to be the only things separating you from everyone else.