#and now im headed to scotland for a two week vacation with a friend on monday

[percyjacksonfan3]

ok then DONT think about Eddie and Chrissy alive and getting a kid together and Eddie taking that kid to go see the LOTR film adaptation in 2001. bonus if Dustin and the rest of the nerd crew come with. I’m sorry

Lol nonny I love how you said "getting a kid together" as if they'll just pick one up from a store or something, made me lol

But okay when I tell you the idea of them as parents has been consuming me?? Because they'd be so freaking cute, and you just know they would put 100% into not being bad parents like theirs were. Like they love their child(ren) with their whole hearts and I just... we were so robbed

And then you throw LOTR into the mix (to me, a confessed Tolkienverse lover due to Peter Jackson's movies) and I just... want it SO bad. And because those movies are gold there is no chance Eddie is not walking out of that theater vibrating from pure joy and unrestrained excitement and love, whereas Chrissy just shrugs and is like 'the characters were all pretty and I know enough from association with my husband (because yes they're absolutely married in this scenario) to understand what was going on and enjoy it'

Also the idea of the entire nerd crew being fun uncles and stuff to any edssy kids is too much for me to handle, I love it 🥺 they dynamics would be so good but they honestly all have such protective instincts after bonding over everything like they have so they would just be the sweetest with kids.

[kyber-crystal]

united we stand || s.r

summary: in which you, sam, steve, and natasha are forced to go on the run after civil war. unfortunately, being a fugitive with government officials out for his blood doesn’t seem to stop the great captain america from falling even more in love with you.

words: ~2.5k

warnings: slight angst, sam and natasha being matchmakers, fluff 

a/n: OMG IM SORRY THIS ONE WAS SO POORLY WRITTEN ADLFJDSF

It doesn't have to come down to this, Tony. Look what you're doing. You're tearing the Avengers apart."

"You did that when you sided with Cap, Y/N."

"What do we do now?"

"We fight."

"He's my friend."

"So was I."

"He killed our parents, Y/N. And you're still willing to take his side? I thought I could trust you. But I guess I can't even rely on my own judgement anymore to make decisions, can I?"

Your heart hammered against your ribcage as you jumped from rooftop to rooftop, a dull ache forming at the edges of your skull due to all the thoughts rushing around in your brain and narrowly escaping a flurry of over two dozen of General Ross's men.

Guilt settled in the pit of your stomach, making your insides churn. You turned against the last family you had left, and now you were paying the price.

You're one hundred percent sure that Tony hates your guts at this point. Leaving your brother for someone else; what had you become?

"What now?" Sam asked, looking around and sending Redwing out to survey your surroundings for any other agents that could be approaching. "What's our next step?"

"We gotta catch a train. Belfast's no longer safe for us," Steve panted as he slid his shield over his back, trying to catch his breath. "Our safety's already compromised as it is."

"Nat's gonna go get the tickets, I'll buy us some disguises. We're less likely to be recognized because you guys are all suited up with your wings and shield," you explained. "Wait here."

A few minutes later you were all dressed inconspicuously in your new disguises, looking like the other civilians that were walking around. You didn't have enough time to check the sizes of the clothing, so Steve ended up wearing some jeans and a light grey T-shirt that was about a size too small for him, outlining every inch of his toned torso.

You quickly tore your gaze away before anyone noticed you staring. Sam caught this, however, and sent you a little wink. You glared at him in response.

"The next train to Glasgow leaves in nine. We gotta hurry," Natasha said as she handed you your tickets. "Come on."

Luckily you weren't recognized as the ticket holder came around, though you tried to keep your heads down low when she passed by.

"It's a 14 hour ride. You fellas might wanna relax, take a nap or something," she said, reclining her seat back and closing her eyes. "We won't be arriving until early tomorrow morning."

You relaxed in your seat, the tension in your muscles loosening a bit. But Steve saw the distressed look in your eyes and placed a gentle hand on top of yours.

"You alright?"

"Could be better, I mean, it's not like I chose to be a fugitive on the run from the entire world," you joked, but the smirk on your face quickly fell. "No. I'm not."

"It's going to be okay, you know. Things'll work out in the end."

"I sure hope so."

You fell into an awkward silence after that, resting your chin on your hand as you stared out ahead, watching the rolling hills whiz by in a blur, the vibrant green a sharp contrast to the powdery blue sky. Ireland was a beautiful country, really. You wished you could stay longer purely for the sake of admiring all the lovely scenery.

"You know, if you just want to talk about anything, we can do that. 14 hours is a pretty long train ride," he finally spoke up about an hour later. Sam was fast asleep at this point, mouth opened slightly as his head rested on Natasha's shoulder, who was sleeping as well.

"Yeah, it is. But we've had worse days, right?"

"We have," Steve agreed.

So you just talked, about whatever came to your minds. Your childhood, your past before joining the Avengers Initiative where you'd previously served as one of SHIELD's top agents for several years, Steve's life back in the 40's before becoming a super-soldier, how much things changed over the years. About past missions.

Soon enough you felt your eyelids droop heavily from fatigue. He noticed your tiredness and reached out his right arm, gently wrapping it around you and pulling you towards his side, encircling you completely in his warm embrace. Slowly but steadily, your muscles began to release the tension in them and you leaned into his touch.

"Why don't you get some shut-eye. We have plenty of time to talk when we arrive."

"Mhm," you mumbled sleepily. He smiled, brushing a few stray hairs away from your face as you drifted off.

...

"Good morning ladies and gentlemen, this is our final stop. We have arrived at Glasgow Central Station," the conductor's voice announced over the intercom as the train began slowing down. "The weather is currently 59 degrees, and it is 5:27 a.m."

"Wake up, lovebirds," Natasha clapped as you stirred slightly, looking confused as you raised your head from where it rested against Steve's chest. "Time to get going."

You yawned and stood up, stepping off onto the platform into the station, surprisingly busy at the crack of dawn. You really just wanted to curl back up into a ball and sleep. Talking for four hours straight with Steve had knocked you out completely.

After getting new SIM cards, Sam quickly created an account to get you checked into a hotel.

"It's a half hour walk. We should probably limit public transportation as much as we can," he stated as he slid his phone into his jacket pocket. "Managed to snag a 40% off deal including a free night, so we're good for the next few weeks until we get an actual apartment."

"You know," Natasha commented, adjusting her baseball cap and aviators as you made your way outside down the bustling street, "if we weren't currently trying to flee from the government's grasp, I'd say I'd wanna come back here for a vacation. And that's on nice architecture."

"With us?" you raised an eyebrow.

"Why not? You're pretty good company. I wouldn't wanna hang out with anyone else."

"Well, what can I say?" Sam puffed up his chest. "I'm smooth with the ladies."

You simply laughed. "Yeah, sure you are."

Glasgow was a breathtaking city. With sprawling Victorian style buildings and cobblestone roads, brightly labeled bars and restaurants, it appeared as if it was pulled straight from a rustic 19th-century painting.

You checked into your hotel after grabbing some food from the nearby bakery. For a cheap price, your room was surprisingly simple but large: a king bed in one room, a pullout couch, and a small balcony so you could stand outside and take in the view of the city.

Despite having no time zone difference between Ireland and Scotland, you were still extremely jet-lagged, most likely due to the flight you'd taken over to Berlin not long ago. After binge-watching reruns of some sitcom for the rest of the day, you fell asleep, clutching your pillow tightly.

Natasha and Sam had good eyes, and could clearly see something was going on between you and Steve.

The truth was, you wanted something to happen but both of you were too chicken to make a move, thinking being in relationship while on the run was inconvenient and unnecessary.

The first few days passed by relatively quickly. You only really went out to buy groceries, and even then you went two at a time to avoid drawing unwanted attention to yourselves. Once, you treated yourselves to a night out at a nice restaurant, enjoying each others' company. It was a way to forget about your currently unfortunate situation.

...

But then the nightmares began.  

You swung your legs over the edge of the bed after waking up in a cold sweat, heading over to the bathroom. Everyone had already gone to sleep long ago, and you envied people like Sam as he could knock out cold almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Staring at your ghostly reflection in the mirror, you squeezed your eyes shut, releasing tears that cascaded down your flushed cheeks in a hot flood. You ran trembling fingers through your messy hair in an attempt to tame it, taking a brief look at your disheveled appearance. The heavy dark circles underneath your bloodshot eyes that were a result of hardly sleeping over the past week were clear, as well as your sunken cheekbones and deathly pale complexion.

You studied the woman that looked back at you, with the same unnerving and hollowed out gaze that she'd worn for years; a façade she learned to develop so that nobody could see when she felt weak; helpless. 

Ten days. 

Only ten days had passed since you arrived in Scotland, yet it seemed as if you aged ten years during that short amount of time. Small creases in between your brows indicated stress and anxiety from leaving everything you knew behind, for a future you could barely see ahead of. For a life that held an endless amount of consequences if you took one misstep, one wrong move.

Your body felt heavy, weighed down as if you carried the weight of a thousand men upon your aching shoulders. You didn't know what to do; what to think anymore.

You didn't look thirty-two anymore, you looked older. Almost as old as Tony. And there was a 10+ year age gap between you and him.

God, Tony.

You betrayed him. The last living member of your family on earth, and you betrayed him.

Turned your back on him, because you didn't believe in the same ideas. Was it really worth turning your back on your own blood just because of a disagreement?

I thought I could trust you.

I thought I could, too. But I guess things don't always work out as planned, do they?

They don't. I don't even know what I can say to you anymore. Hell, I can't look at you without seeing a traitor. You turned your back on all of us, and that's unforgivable.

The Accords, you know I couldn't sign them. It isn't right. I'm fighting for what I believe in.

No, you're fighting for Steve, not yourself. Always running over to precious Cap even if it costs you your safety, if it costs you everything and everyone you ever loved. Because you think that you can rely on him and him alone, to get through this. You won't get very far by keeping this act up, you know.

News flash; the world doesn't revolve around you, Tony. Just because someone doesn't agree with what you believe, doesn't mean you have to tear their team, their family, apart for it.

You're blaming me?

Maybe I am.

"What are you doing up this late?"

Steve's voice jolted you from your train of thought, and you looked up to see him leaning against the doorframe dressed in sweats and another tight-fitting T-shirt, his blue eyes scanning over you worriedly.

"I could ask you the same thing."

"I'm fine, if that's what you're wondering. I'm just a bit jet-lagged," you muttered, hastily wiping away another stray tear that escaped. He pushed himself off the wall and caught your wrist as you were bringing your hand down, tugging you towards him slightly.

"Tell me what's going on."

"I'm fine!"

"No, you're not. What's wrong, Y/N?"

"I..." your voice faltered. You didn’t even realize you’d started crying until you felt your face grow wet from the salty tears that rolled silently into your cracked lips. "I don't know. Everything's wrong."

"Everything?"

"I made a mistake."

"What do you mean, mistake?"

"I turned my back against Tony. My family. I betrayed my own family, Steve." Your voice cracked. "And now I can't even guarantee that I'll ever see him again."

"You did what you had to do," he said softly, placing a hand on your shoulder. You felt your skin burning up under his touch. "You were just trying to do what you felt was right."

"Yeah, by teaming up with the side of the man who killed my parents. I can't imagine what he even thinks of me right now."

A look of hurt briefly passed over Steve's face at the mention of Bucky.

"...But I know their deaths were out of his control, so I don't blame him," you continued. "Still..I hurt him. And now, I have to live with knowing that fact." "Look, I'm sorry."

"What?"

You looked up and met his gaze, feeling his bright blue eyes boring into yours. He didn't seem upset or angry at all; there was an eerie softness and calming feeling about the way he looked at you that made you relax a bit.

"I shouldn't have dragged you into this mess. I never wanted you to have this kind of life; where you're always living in uncertainty. You deserve better than that."

"It's not your fault at all," you swallowed hard. Talking and breathing grew increasingly difficult with the sob that was building up in the back of your throat, that you tried desperately to conceal for so long, "it's mine. I made that decision to side with you, not only because I couldn't stand the idea of signing the Accords. So it's...it's on me. God, I don't know what to do anymore, I can't—"

A wave of grief suddenly hit you from all sides, causing you to keel over, sliding down against the cold wall with a hand clutching your stomach as an agonized scream tear itself through your body and out of your throat. And you were drowning; suffocated by your own tears as you struggled to breathe. You tried desperately to stop them but nothing could seem to hold back the heavy sobs that wracked your body, clawing at your lungs and heart. 

Steve crouched down in front of you and pulled you against him, arms tightening around your body with each cry that escaped your lips. In that moment he wanted nothing more than to take all your sadness and frustration and grief and put it upon himself, to carry the weight on his shoulders so he wouldn't have to watch you endure the pain. He'd much rather have to suffer himself than watch you try and bear the burden and fall to pieces in the process.

Seeing you breaking down before him with your gut-wrenching cries that echoed across the small space, more vulnerable than you'd ever been in front of him before, made it feel as if someone was directly ripping his heart right out of his chest and tearing it into a thousand pieces with their bare hands. 

"Hey, it's okay," he whispered soothingly as he pressed his lips to the side of your temple, "it's okay. I've got you. You're gonna be okay."

Despite how you felt as if your heart was twisting itself into knots, there was something comforting about the way he held you ever so gently in his arms, the way his warm breath fell against his neck as one arm was firmly hooked around your waist, running his free hand through your hair.

So for a moment, you allowed yourself to believe that there was no one else in the world except for just you and him, holding you close, and that everything was fine, even if the feeling only lasted for a second.

[theuniversals]

tagged by @mentholsbackin thank bby this is exactly what i needed to procrastinate writing my reports

rules: complete the fifteen questions and tag ten others who you follow but you want to get to know more!

name: ella

age: 22

country: of residence or of origin? scotland and finland

favourite colour: blues and purples

when you made this blog: ok i made my first one in june 2010 and then deleted and remade in like october (?) 2011 for some reason i cant remember anymore so yeah ive been here a looong time

follower count: it hovers somewhere in the 330s

choose a superhero power: reading minds or invisibility

favourite drink: i was gonna say the basic diet coke but at this point? tbh? im not sure if i even like it anymore i just need to maintain the levels of caffeine and aspartame my body’s gotten used to. it’s really good when it’s on tap and really cold though. 

a song you love right now: oh boy okay hozier’s shrike has been in my head for two days straight and in rainbows by radiohead is my designated Late Autumn Album sooooo im gonna name nude off that one

dream career: r e c o r d  l a b e l  p e r s o n or like. a flower.

dream vacation: honestly anywhere. at the moment i’d like somewhere warm. and i miss italy with my every cell.

hogwarts house: ravenclaw lmao

favourite character/characters of the week: probably the doctor right now to be honest for obvious reasons

how you like to keep your hair: however it falls really, i dont really know how to do anything with my hair...... if anyone knows how to make long-ish pixie cuts look not-exactly-the-same-every-day hmu

christmas or halloween: i like halloween cause it’s not winter yet and it’s cosy and nice and it’s a friend-holiday whereas christmas is a family one but i do like christmas as well bc (in theory at least) it’s calm and serene and pretty. and i get to go home and see my cat. this year i’m a bit nervous about it but oh well.

im tagginggggggggg @newsorders @bullet-in-a-bible @lordpudi @22561962katukissa @taikavvaititi most of you i already know pretty well but hey who doesnt love an excuse to talk about themselves

[schrodinger-s-kitten]

APH rare pair week 2017! Day 2: Music!

Word count: 2555

Pairing: England/Veneziano(North Italy)

Rating: Teen and up, I guess?

Well I’ve made it this far

The story is a little too fast-paced for my taste, and the descriptions are a bit disappointing, but it’s all right.

Enjoy!

Five Times Veneziano Saw England Play the Piano, and One Time He Played Too

~=o-o=~

The first time Veneziano saw England play the piano was at the end of the second World War.

The participating countries had met to discuss the aftermath. They finished in a few hours, but as their planes would not leave until midnight or so, they chose to stay in the building to spend the time they had.

As hasty individuals had organised the conference, they'd had to use the orchestra room. Thus the grand piano in the corner. Austria took to playing it after the meeting to keep his mind occupied. The other countries enjoyed the music, until Austria stopped. When questioned, he responded,

“I was about to play the Fantasy in F minor, D. However, it is a duet.” He looked at the other countries. “I don't suppose any of you, gentlemen, know the song?”

Silence. Did none of them know the piano? Germany should, being home to wonderful composers as Beethoven or Mozart, but he had no interest in creating music. France played the accordion, as did Russia, and the Italies were masterful at the violin, cello and alike. But none of them played the piano.

Seconds passed. At their end, footsteps sounded. England walked towards the piano, his steps light and elegant. Austria's gaze fixated on him.

“Would you conceive me the honour?”

To answer, Austria slid right in his seat, indicating he'd play the treble clef. England took the place of the bass clef, and they played. Veneziano could only stare in awe. Their hands glided over the keys, a light touch here and sinking in there. It was fluid harmony, the sound fluttering in the room and breathing in their ears. It was peace. In a way, the piano piece signified the war was over. Nations from two of the opposing sides, playing a song together, was as the first stitch which would join the world together again. It was a beautiful end to the meeting.

When the Fantasy in F Minor, D ended, Veneziano clapped. Others followed.

~=o=~

The second time Veneziano saw England play the piano, it was in a business meeting.

The Italies had stayed in the UK siblings' house for a few days to discuss trade. In one of these, Veneziano woke up earlier and heard a soft playing from downstairs.

Curious, Veneziano skipped down the stairs, forgetting he wore only a nightshirt. On the lounge, England played a soulful melody and Northern Ireland listened to it, smiling.

It was the first time Veneziano had ever England so calm, so… at ease. It almost pained him how England wasn't at ease anywhere else — only with his family. But if England could be so calm, perhaps Veneziano didn't have to fear him so.

The song finished in a happy note.

“You may come down, Veneziano.”

Northern Ireland's voice startled him and he stumbled down the stairs, almost falling. England stood, ready to help him, but he managed to stabilise himself.

“Sorry,” he said, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck. England shook his head.

“It's no problem.” He motioned to the sofa. “Please sit down. Or do you prefer to, ah…” he glanced at Veneziano, “change your attire?”

Realising his lower half was still nude, Veneziano blushed and ran up the stairs to put clothing on. He thought he heard North laugh. England sighed and sat back at the piano, shaking his head with a smile.

“He likes your playing,” poked North. He looked at her. She smiled. “He was staring at you. You two should try and see if you have any other common interests.”

“…Don't be silly, North,” England stared at the keys. “Us spending time together is a laughable idea.” He wouldn’t take interest in me.

North stood.

“If you're going to be like that, no-one will take interest in you, indeed.” Her tone let stones fall after her as she strolled to the kitchen. “I'll make breakfast for Wales, Scotland, and our guests. Tomorrow, you should.”

Veneziano hopped down the stairs, skipping steps. This time, he wore a light blue  shirt and trousers.

“Ve~ Mister England, I forgot to tell you, your playing is beautiful!” Said Veneziano, grinning, hands swinging a little at his sides. England looked at him.

“…Thank you, Veneziano,” he said. Steps sounded behind Veneziano. “Good morning, Romano.”

“Whatever, whatever,” grumbled Romano. “Where's breakfast?” He rubbed his eyes.

“Kitchen.” Romano trudged past them towards the cup of coffee on the table. Veneziano giggled.

“Mister England~ do you think we could spend more time together?”

He knew he was being bold, but he wanted to make friends with England, and this could be the last opportunity he'd get in decades. England's eyes widened and he was wordless for a moment. Veneziano frowned, afraid he'd gone too far.

England smiled.

“Well, if we are going to, a good first step would be to leave the ‘Mister’ when addressing me.” His tone was warm, and hid immense joy behind it. Veneziano grinned and cheered.

“Oi! Be quiet!” Shouted Scotland from upstairs, eliciting laughter from everyone – except Romano.

~=o=~

The third time Veneziano saw England play the piano, it was because he suggested it.

Veneziano was over for a visit. He and England had spent more time together since the trade discussion, and Veneziano popped by the UK siblings' house to visit sometimes. They were always happy he was over – it was a nice change from the usual grumpiness from everybody, said North once.

When he knocked on the door, Scotland answered. His angry expression softened when he saw Veneziano, not before scaring him a little.

“Ah, it's you. Thank the gods, come in.” He opened the door and stepped away, closing it after Veneziano walked inside. “England's in a bad mood. Go cheer 'im up. He's in his room.”

“Eh?” Veneziano's eyes widened. “What happened?” He furrowed his brow. Scotland shrugged.

“Go find out yerself. It ain't lack of tea, I had a cuppa this morning.” He sat on the sofa. “Wales and North are shopping,” he informed. “England's a dick when he's in a bad mood, so they wanted to get away. I wanted to go too, but apparently he needs supervision now.”

Veneziano raised an eyebrow and walked upstairs. He put on a smile. England couldn't be in that bad of a mood, right? He knocked on the door of England's room.

“Go the fuck away, Scotland!”

…Maybe he was in such a bad mood.

“It's Veneziano!” He shouted back. A few seconds of silence made him tense.

The door opened in a fast motion. Before Veneziano was England, in green pyjamas, trying and failing to conceal an angry expression. Ignoring it, Veneziano grinned.

“Ve~! England!” Before England could reply, Veneziano hugged him around the waist and spun him around with surprising strength. England yelped and hung onto Veneziano. After a few spins, Veneziano put him down. “How are you? Scotland said you were in a bad mood!”

England regained his balance.

“Hello, Veneziano. Yes, I am in a bad mood.” He glared at the floor. “Fucking Scotland,” he sighed. “Come into my room, I suppose.”

He closed the door after them.

“What happened?” Asked Veneziano, looking around. The bed was unmade, the desk was messy and the closet doors, open. He looked at the open laptop on the table, displaying an email. England caught his stare.

“That's from my editor. They rejected my book, after all.” England dropped on his bed. “Again.” A long, drawn-out sigh. Veneziano's eyes widened.

“Why would they? It's amazing!” He exclaimed, raising his arms. England shook his head.

“Not to them.”

Furrowing his brow, Veneziano sat next to England. He smiled his best comforting smile.

“Well, to me it's amazing. All your stories are amazing,” he said in a near-whisper. England turned his head to him.

“Even the one with the crazy balloon man?” Despite his tone, he was smiling.

“…Most of your stories are amazing.”

They laughed. Veneziano got up and offered a hand to England.

“Come on, let's go outside! The editor can go screw himself!” Without waiting for England's response, he yanked him standing. Veneziano gasped. “Wait! You know that piano piece you named ‘letting go’? You could play that one! It'll help you let go!”

England knitted his brow. It sounded silly, but it could work; music did calm him. He smiled and nodded. Veneziano tugged at his wrist and dragged him downstairs. They almost fell in their climbing down the steps in four seconds. Scotland wasn't in the lounge any more, so he wasn't there to see England in his pyjamas. They caught their breath, and Veneziano motioned towards the piano. England sat down and played.

Hearing the music, Scotland turned his head to the window. He took his cigarette off his mouth. England, playing the piano in pyjamas. How bloody ridiculous. At least he looked happy. Veneziano, beside him, was happy too. Scotland smiled. England cheered up so quick with Veneziano there; one could almost say they were falling in love.

~=o=~

The fourth time Veneziano saw England play the piano, they were in a shopping centre.

It was in the USA. Veneziano had convinced England to go on vacation to New York during autumn. After getting ice cream, they'd gone into one of the many shopping centres of the city. It was huge. They enjoyed strolling among the shops, and even bought some items – like a pen for writing musical score, green and red hair chalk, and a 0.1 millimetre ink pen.

When they tried to remember the way out, though, they discovered they'd gotten lost.

“I'm sure the exit is that way.”

“No, we came from there, remember?”

After a lot of random strolling, they came across a grand piano set in the middle of the cross section. They’d seen it before that afternoon. According to a pamphlet, it was there for propaganda of a music school. There was a person watching it, but anybody could try playing. Well, at least they knew it was near the exit.

Veneziano sat on the stool and pressed a random key, deciding to experiment. He soon found his notes, and played the simplest version of Twinkle Little Star. England hummed along, to his surprise.

“I converted the twelve variations to the violin once,” remarked Veneziano.

“Oh?” England smiled.

“A few decades ago. I think I still have the sheet at home.” Veneziano slid right on the stool and England sat on it, putting their bag on the floor.

“Funny you should mention the twelve variations,” he said, positioning his hands on the keys. “Help me on the first?” He looked at Veneziano, who grinned and put his hand on the piano.

They played the first variation together. It was slow, as England adjusted to Veneziano's pace, but it was sweet. After the first variation, Veneziano removed his hand and England's took its place. The variation changed, the tempo increased, the playing itself sounded more experienced.

Throughout the variations, Veneziano watched England's hand motions with intent. People gathered around the piano to watch, which gave the music school the opportunity to try and convince them to join it. England ignored his surroundings, in a world with only him, Veneziano and the piano. Veneziano bobbed his head along, and sometimes hummed along to the song. He came back to reality only when he finished the piece.

Clapping erupted, startling both England and Veneziano. He stood and bowed to them, a little awkward. The music school even tried to hire him as a teacher, to which he declined. They walked through the dispersing crowd and to the exit of the shopping centre.

Well, now Veneziano knew the moment he'd fallen for England.

~=o=~

The fifth time Veneziano saw England play the piano, it was his lullaby.

They were at the Italies' house – England had come to visit for once. Seborga had taken an interest on the piano as of late, so he bought an upright piano and put it on the parlour. When he saw Seborga playing Für Elise, England tilted his head.

“Positioning your hands like that will give you cramps on the long run,” he offered. Seborga stared at him for a moment.

“How should I position them, then?” He spread his hands in front of the piano. England guided him, explaining.

In the meantime, Romano stomped into the room. As soon as England finished explaining, he dragged Seborga to his room, complaining about ‘bad playing at this ungodly hour’. Veneziano giggled, then yawned. God, was he sleepy. England noticed.

“We should go to sleep as well,” suggested England, standing.

“No.” Veneziano grabbed his arm and made him sit back down. Veneziano lay curled up on the sofa, his head on England's lap. England blushed heavily, bringing his hands up. He was used to Veneziano's hugs, but he'd never lied on his lap before.

“A-ah, Veneziano, don't you think it's better if you sleep in your bed?”

Veneziano shook his head.

“Play me a lullaby,” he mumble-demanded, looking at England's eyes. They stayed like that for a moment, their eyes shining, Veneziano's with sleepiness and England's with a bit of embarrassment. England sighed, putting his hands on the piano. His hands were a little crooked, but it worked.

He played a soft, comforting melody. Veneziano closed his eyes as England sang along with it. Veneziano didn't recognise the language, but it didn't matter. England's voice was melodious in a way Veneziano did not expect; it was soothing, low and warm. Made Veneziano think of flowers and calm waters. As he thought this, the sounds mixed, his thoughts blurred, and England's voice and piano carried him away into a peaceful sleep.

England smiled at the sleeping Veneziano. He stopped playing and ran his fingers through Veneziano's hair. It was soft, as was his smile.

“Goodnight, love,” he whispered.

~=o=~

G8 conference.

Right after it, to be preciser.

There had been problems with the orchestra room, and a few instruments would be in the conference room for a few days. Among these instruments, a violin, and a piano.

The countries were lazing around, as it was much more comfortable to wait there for their planes instead of the airport. Veneziano inspected the violin on the corner.

“Likely handmade…” he mumbled to himself, checking the violin and the bow. He raised the bow and tested notes on it. A professional violin indeed, and tuned to perfection. Veneziano played a part of Liebesfreud and grinned. He looked at the other nations.

“England~!” He called, waving, and motioned to the piano. “Be my accompaniment?”

England stood and walked to the piano. His steps were light and elegant. Veneziano observed as he sat on the stool of the Bösendorfer piano.

“3, 2, 1–!”

Music filled the room; strong, elegant, pleasant. Veneziano's hands and arm glided, quick as a hummingbird's beating wings, producing notes heavy with emotion. England's hands were light on the keys; he let his feelings guide them, making his notes flutter. Together, England's piano and Veneziano's violin seamed a soulful, heartfelt melody.

When they finished, there was applause. England stood and, together, they bowed to the audience. They looked into each other's eyes.

Words were dispensable, they figured. Their music had said all they needed to know.

[celtfather]

Irish Kisses in Twenty Twenty #442

Kiss me I'm Irish in 2020 with the Irish & Celtic Music Podcast. Subscribe and listen!

Warbelow Range, Serious Kitchen, Poitin, The Gleasons, The Here & Now, Vicki Swan & Jonny Dyer, Kyle Gryphon, Catherine Koehler, Matt & Shannon Heaton, Old Man Flanagan's Ghost, Clover's Revenge, Hugh Morrison, SeaStar, Hurricane Kevin

I hope you enjoyed this week's show. If you did, please share the show with ONE friend.

The Irish & Celtic Music Podcast is here to build our community and help the incredible artists who so generously share their music with you. If you hear music you love, buy the albums, shirts, and songbooks, follow the artists on Spotify, see their shows, and drop them an email to let them know you heard them on the Irish and Celtic Music Podcast.

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VOTE IN THE CELTIC TOP 20 This is our way of finding the best songs and artists each year. Just list the show number, and the name of as many bands in the episode as you like. Your vote helps me create next year's Best Celtic music of 2020 episode.  Vote Now!

THIS WEEK IN CELTIC MUSIC

0:04 - "Cottage in the Grove / The Curlew / Farewell to Ireland" by Warbelow Range from Warbelow Range

4:37 - WELCOME

6:06 - "The Blacksmith" by Serious Kitchen from "Tig"

10:46 - "Last Beautiful Loneliness" by Poitin from Simple Pleasures

15:22 - "Ireland In Your Eyes" by The Gleasons from Let It Go

18:20 - "The Peacock's Head" by The Here & Now from The Winding Stair

22:08 - CELTIC FEEDBACK

26:14 - "Two Red Roses" by Vicki Swan & Jonny Dyer from Twelve Months & A Day

31:30 - "Silver Thaw" by Kyle Gryphon from Isolation

34:16 - "Oft in the Stilly Night" by Catherine Koehler from Shan-a-Key

36:31 - "New Married Couple" by Matt & Shannon Heaton from Lover's Well

39:52 - CELTIC PODCAST NEWS

42:31 - "Hart of Ten" by Old Man Flanagan's Ghost from Far From Shore

45:55 - "The Merry Misadventures of Sister Mary Margaret" by Clover's Revenge from Truants and Absolution

49:52 - "Old Scotland" by Hugh Morrison from The Other Side

54:07 - "Giant" by SeaStar from Never Go Back

58:26 - CLOSING

59:59 - "Irish Kisses (Kiss Me, I'm Irish)" by Hurricane Kevin

The Irish & Celtic Music Podcast was produced by Marc Gunn, The Celtfather. To subscribe, go to Apple Podcasts or to our website where you can become a Patron of the Podcast for as little as $1 per episode. Promote Celtic culture through music at http://celticmusicpodcast.com/.

  CELTIC PODCAST NEWS

* Helping you celebrate Celtic culture through music. My name is Marc Gunn. I am a Celtic musician and podcaster. This show is dedicated to the indie Celtic musicians. Please support these artists. Share the show with your friends. And find more episodes at celticmusicpodcast.com. You can also support this podcast on Patreon.

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TRAVEL WITH CELTIC INVASION VACATIONS Every year, I take a small group of Celtic music fans on the relaxing adventure of a lifetime. We don't see everything. Instead, we stay in one area. We get to know the region through its culture, history, and legends. You can join us with an auditory and visual adventure through podcasts and videos. Learn more about the invasion at http://celticinvasion.com/

I still have space in 2020 for the Celtic Invasion of Italy. It’s gonna be monumental. You don’t want to miss it!

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  I WANT YOUR FEEDBACK

What are you doing today while listening to the podcast? You can send a written comment along with a picture of what you're doing while listening. Email a voicemail message to celticpodcast@gmail.com

joylene emailed: "Knitting. I’m of Italian and Austrian background. I just like Celtic music. I started listening when you were Irish Drinking Songs for Cat Lovers. I have a second cousin who plays bagpipes in a Celtic band in Pgh PA. He’s Italian and Polish and Armenian."

Joseph Rosenthal emailed a photo: "Working while organizing files. Just started listening recently and love hearing the stuff you put out for me to get through the day .Despite the red hair, I'm only 10 percent Irish, but my mother clings to that 10 percent and I can appreciate it on my own too. Keep it up!"

Tom Cochran emailed: "Hi Mark, Tom C from the highlands of western Colorado. Just recently found your podcast from a post on my Clan’s Facebook page. Have listened to several now and find the diversity of music refreshing and matching my own musical tastes which are eclectic. I enjoy everything from classical, to musical theatre, classic rock, folk, and of course Celtic music in its many forms. My wife and I along with son Brendan and friend Jonathan make up Oran Mor. We have been playing a lot these past few months locally and are planning our first recording in the coming year. As a long time theatre geek ( presently directing  Conor McPhearson’s Irish Drama “The Veil”) I am new to the music business.

So I would appreciate any advice. You can check out our web page at oranmormusic.com. Favorite influences include, Dougie McIean, Runrig, Battlefield Band, Old Blind Dogs, Silly Wizard, Albannach, The Elders and the Chieftains. I am really liking the new groups your show is turning me onto; new fave Runa. I look forward to many hours of great music. Keep up the good work."

Junya emailed: "hi. im from Japan. im a very casual listener, and i dont have the habit of checking the song titles and artists names, so i have no knowledge, but have been listening to your podcast for, probably more than 10 years. i felt like listening to such music in Christmas time in December, over 10years ago, (im not Christian and l am japanese living in Japan, so i dont have a chance to experience the Westerners' christmas festivity, but i always long to join their Christmas mood) and tried searching, then your website was the top result. somehow irish and celtic music sounds very nice to me even though im not a fan of any ethnic type of music very much.

the song i liked from this Halloween podcast was The Rogue's Hellbound Sleigh, with the club music like beautiful and cool elements mixed in."

Pompeii

Emerald

  Check out this episode!