#my lovely from france even gifted me a fan

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Ghost Whisperer || CL16

AN: another one from the archives of forgotten fics.

Summary: gifted with the ability to talk with the dead, you meet a man who wants you to take him to Monaco to check on his godson.

Warnings: mentions of death

Your family holiday had taken a turn when you reached Nice, France, and found the apartment that they had rented was already occupied. They were oblivious to the man who had lived there a decade earlier but your sixth sense had spotted him the moment you walked in the door.

“You’re going to love him,” Jules repeated for what seemed like the hundredth time that morning.

“This isn’t Tinder,” you said to the apparition sitting in the passenger seat of your rental car. “I’m just going to find your friend so you can finally rest.”

“What’s Tinder?”

“Nevermind.”

“And he’s not just my friend,” he corrected. “He’s my godson, he’s family.”

You sighed as you imagined how the conversation would go with a child. It was hard enough trying to explain your gifts to adults who understood what you were saying, they just didn’t believe you. Everyone thought you were just trying to scam them when you said you had a message from a loved one.

“He’s the kindest kid you’ll ever meet. You’ll see.” Jules smiled as you followed his directions and crested over the mountain range to see Monaco in all its summer glory. “Beautiful, right?”

You were awestruck by the sight of the sun on the sea and his smile grew at your loss for words. It was a shame you had to drive when all you wanted to do was sit and watch the city grow before your eyes. Unfortunately it took a huge amount of energy for a ghost to even move a feather so there was no hope of Jules taking over the steering wheel for you.

Once inside the city he directed you to a home that the family had lived in and hopefully still did. The white door had a large brass door knocker in the shape of a lion and it was cold to the touch when you grabbed it.

“Bonjour,” a friendly middle aged woman answered and Jules breathed her name like prayer. “Puis-je vous aider?”

“Do you speak English?”

“Yes, is there something I can help you with?”

You looked to your left and Jules gave you an encouraging smile. “I was hoping to speak to Charles. Is he here?”

You were aware it was a weekday and he was likely at school but it was still disappointing to see Pascale shake her head. “He hasn’t lived here for some time, are you a friend of his?”

She was already growing defensive, crossing her arms over her chest as she waited for your answer. “No, we don’t know each other but a mutual friend asked me to pass a message to him.”

“Aw, we are friends,” Jules chuckled and you had to fight to resist rolling your eyes.

“Perhaps I should call my son,” she murmured as she held a hand up. “Just wait here a moment.”

She closed the door behind her and you waited impatiently as you shifted on your feet. “What happens if she doesn’t give up his address?”

“The city isn’t that big, I’m sure we can find him.” His attention turned to the door and he went to nudge you but his elbow went straight through, causing goosebumps to travel across your skin.

“Stop doing that,” you growled as the door opened. Pascale gave you an odd look as she found you alone waiting, but she didn’t ask who you were talking to as she held a phone out.

“He wants to know who this mutual friend is.”

You took the phone and raised it to your ear. “Hello, is this Charles?”

“Yes, now give me one good reason why I shouldn’t call the police and have you trespassed?”

You reeled back at the animosity, but also the depth of his voice. He was not the child you had envisioned. “I have done nothing wrong.”

“I understand you are a fan and I appreciate that, but you cannot just keep showing up at my mother’s house and expect to find me. There is a boundary and this is crossing it.”

You pulled back the phone to look at it in disgust before you turned and took a step away from his mother. “I don’t know who you think you are, hot shot, but I was only doing this because your friend asked me to. For some reason he thinks highly of you, but I can’t say the same.”

The seconds dragged on and if it wasn’t for his soft breathing you would have thought the call disconnected. “Who?” he finally asked.

You took a steadying breath knowing this was almost always the point that you lost their interest. “Jules.”

“Goodbye.”

“Charles!” Your ears rang with Jules’ outburst and the screen pixelated before returning to normal to show the call was still connected. Charles’ breathing turned ragged as he choked on his tongue knowing the voice he had heard. Doubt and other emotions roiled his insides but he couldn’t hang up no matter how much he wanted to.

An address rattled off his heavy tongue and Jules recognised the street name, giving you a nod. “I’ll see you soon,” you said as you handed the phone back to his mother.

“Please don’t hurt him,” she asked as she pocketed the device.

“I just want to pass on a message and go back to my holiday,” you promised, though she frowned at the evasive words that created more questions she held back.

By force of habit, her frown deepened when you nodded your head to the empty space beside you and muttered, “Come on then.”

Jules lingered another moment, his hand reaching for Pascale’s only for her to shiver and wrap her arms around herself. With a sigh, he turned away and heard the door click shut behind him.

“She was like a second mother to me,” he said quietly as he caught up. “The kindest woman I knew.”

“You also said Charles would be great but so far that is not how I am feeling.”

Jules had nothing to say to that, but it had been 10 years since his death. Perhaps a decade had changed Charles while Jules remained the same.

–

The apartment building was as pretty as the rest that you had passed but the afternoon sun left a shadow climbing its walls and you couldn’t help feeling like it was an omen as you buzzed his apartment number. Instead of answering, the front door unlocked and you stepped inside apprehensively. Each step on the tiled floor echoed and you followed the apartment numbers as you climbed the stairs to Charles’.

His door was already opened, a handsome man leaning against the doorway, and his eyes narrowed as they scanned you with each step closer. You wanted to elbow Jules for not telling you his godson was Adonis reincarnated but Jules was in his own state of shock seeing Charles grown into adulthood. The boy he knew was long gone, this was a man.

“My mother said to listen to you, that is the only reason you are here.” He stood up straighter, blocking you from seeing the inside of his home. “Say what you need to then go.”

You looked at Jules but he wasn’t any help as his jaw still hung open. You decided to go with honesty but really you were just taking a shot in the dark, he didn’t seem like the type to believe anything that was going to come out of your mouth. “My AirBnB in Nice came with a ghost named Jules and he wanted me to find you.”

Charles' hands dropped limp at his sides before a sharp laugh erupted and he stepped back into this apartment. He reached for his door, ready to slam it closed when Jules emerged from his stupor and whispered a few words for you to repeat.

“Bring it home, underdog.”

Charles froze at the words and nearly stumbled as he spun around. Anger painted his face and he closed the distance in a few strides as he shoved a shaking finger in your face. “What did you say?”

You swallowed at the animosity in his tone before straightening your spine and looking him in the eye. “The only way you show these guys you’re not a charity case is to prove them wrong and win, kid.”

His nose twitched as he struggled to understand the words he had heard once before. “Who told you to say that?”

You jutted your thumb at Jules. “You know who, the same man that told me.”

An array of emotions flitted across his face before settling on disbelief. “That’s not possible.”

“I wish,” you murmured before looking at Jules, and you felt bad. “Sorry.”

“I wouldn’t want that gift either,” he admitted. “Can you tell him he looks strong? And he finally grew into his big head.”

“Jules says you look good.”

“I said strong.”

“Strong, whatever,” you corrected. “He thinks you look strong. And you had a big head. Are you still racing?”

Charles followed your eyes to the space beside you but no matter how hard he tried to focus he couldn’t see anything. “I must be crazy.”

You snorted a laugh at what Jules said before repeating it. “No, you were crazy when you drove for years without knowing how to use the brakes.”

“I was eight,” Charles defended himself before realising that was not something widely known and something akin to wonder brightened his face. “Jules?”

“Yeah, kid, I’m here.”

Charles stepped aside and waved a hand in, urging you to follow him to the dining room table. He grabbed three bottles of water without thinking and then frowned as he put one back, a look of sadness washing over him.

“Don’t feel sad,” you said as you accepted the water. “Good things came about because of his death.”

Charles scoffed and untwisted the bottle cap with more force than necessary, spilling water over his hands. “Not for me.”

“You’re alive because of him, and that makes him happy,” you said, taking his hand across the table and squeezing it. “Because of Jules they made the halo and that saved your life, and others too. He would take the sacrifice any day.”

“Always,” Jules echoed. He placed his hand on top of yours and it drifted through, sending goosebumps up yours and Charles’ arms.

“Jules,” you growled as you shook your hand out, but Charles stared at his in wonder.

“I felt him,” he whispered in amazement. “Mon Dieu!”

—

The next few hours passed by with an onslaught of questions, mostly ‘how’. How do you do it? How long have you seen them? How did you find out?

Slowly the questions became more personal.

“Do you do this for work?”

“No way, well kind of, maybe…I’m studying history. It does help when the old professor still hangs out in the library. He’s happy to help whenever I have questions.”

“Isn’t that cheating?”

“It’s no different to a tall person playing basketball. Success is just playing to your strengths.”

“Is talking to the dead really a strength?” Jules asked as he crossed his legs and drummed his fingers on his lips, pondering. “Surely you are just missing out on life.”

“I don’t think you’re one to talk, you’re still here when you could be enjoying whatever afterlife awaits.”

“I wish I could hear him,” Charles sighed. “Why hasn’t he moved on?”

You shrugged and looked at Jules for an answer.

“I promised Hervé I would watch over him.”

Charles’ eyes misted and his head bowed as he tried to hide how he wiped the tears away. “I’m an adult now, Jules, you don’t have to stick around for me.”

“I see that now,” he said with a sad smile as he stood up and ruffled Charles' hair. “I love you, kid.”

Charles’ breath shuddered from his lungs as he felt the large hand on his head for a second before it disappeared. “Is he…is he gone?”

You watched Jules step out onto the balcony and warmth flooded the room as he faded into the shimmering light.

“Now he is,” you swallowed the lump in your throat that always came with the final goodbye. Standing up, you looked to the door and wondered if you should quietly leave but when you looked back at Charles, his eyes red and cheeks wet, you knew you couldn’t leave him that way.

Walking around the table, you took a seat next to Charles and took his hand. He broke away from staring silently at the wood grain and knots in the table and sniffled. “Thank you.”

“I would say anytime but…”

You smiled as Charles managed a small chuckle. “I think once is enough, but I wonder…” he looked around the room. “You haven’t seen my father have you?”

You shook your head. “There wasn’t anyone at your mother’s house either. It’s likely if he was at peace then he’s already moved on.”

“Good, that’s good.” He took a deep breath and wiped his eyes, wincing at the dampness on his hands. “Sorry.”

“I’m used to it, you cry as much as you want. There isn’t exactly a right way to feel when it comes to this,” you admitted as you looked out of the balcony to see the marina looking even more beautiful.

“I don’t know how to thank you.” He caught your lingering gaze and cleared his throat. “Maybe I could show you the city?”

“You’re probably in shock. You should rest,” you said with a shake of your head. “But I’m pretty sure I saw Monaco on my mum’s itinerary for next week. Maybe I’ll see you around.”

Charles reached into his pocket and pulled out his cellphone. “Or maybe you could call me?”

[nebbyy]

Hi! I'm not sure if you are currently taking requests, so feel free to ignore mine if you aren't! If you are taking them, however, would you please write something for King Baldwin IV overhearing reader sing and falling further in love with her because of her soft and sweet voice? Upon realizing that he's there, she becomes extremely flustered and apologizes for disrupting his peace and quiet. Thank you!

King Baldwin IV x reader - Sweetest of melodies

A/N: omg it’s been so long since I’ve received a request! I can’t lie, Baldwin is my supreme comfort character, I think I’ll never stop writing fro him because it gives me sooo much joy😩😩😩 I personally like to think of this piece as taking place a few months after Baldwin’s and reader’s wedding, so it could be considered a sequel for my first fic ever. Also, the song mentioned in this piece is a real song from the 12th century called "Can vei la lauzeta" (in English,"When I see the lark") by Bernart de Ventadorn, and the painting is "Lovers in a garden" by Charles Edward Perugini!!

Oh btw!! I’m working on a long ass series about him, based off of a prompt by @phantomsghoulette  which I absolutely LOVED. Sooo all the KoH fans stay tuned for future updates🤭

Warning: nothing really, just pure fluff. Maybe you could say that religious innuendos could be something triggering for some people but I don’t know. There might be ONE, SLIGHTLY spicy mention but only if you squint really really hard. Also, keep in mind that the historical accuracy in my fics is rather relative, I try to add some details here and there but I don’t have the knowledge (nor the skills) to write a piece 100% accurate to the real history. Also, reader’s gender is female and uses she/her pronouns!!

Word count: 2918

Someone would say Baldwin's patience could already be put to test by only his illness, which she ruthlessly does not grant him a moment's respite, the eternal enemy of his body and his spirit. But no, to this perpetual torment of his had to be added the perilous duties of a king. And it was certainly not governing his people and lands that sucked what little energy he had left; this duty of his, given by his father and willed by divine design, he had long since embraced.

It was the nobles, the leeches who had drained him of his lifeblood lately. It was their endless demands, the insidious words that hissed behind his back, the languid bows and sleazy gifts designed only to gain some favor from him. Looking around him, he seemed to see only vices and sinners, power-hungry beasts just waiting for his moment of weakness so they could feed on what Baldwin had under his power.

In fact, not without reason in the past the young monarch had attempted to abdicate the throne and leave it in the hands of one of his sisters, rid himself of this burden and devote the rest of his short life taking care of his declining health and to nurture his mind away from so much corruption. At times he dreamed of retiring to France, experiencing for the first time that cold climate and verdant landscape of which his preceptors and advisors told him so much.

In fact, not without reason in the past the young monarch had attempted to abdicate the throne and leave it in the hands of one of his sisters, rid himself of this burden and devote the rest of his short life taking care of his declining health and to nurture his mind away from so much corruption. At times he dreamed of retiring to France, to experience for the first time that cold climate and verdant landscape of which his preceptors and advisors told him so much.

And he dreamed of taking you with him, imagined how sweet his life would be if his only concerns were taking care of his health and you, faithful wife, sole blessing in his life battered by such burdens. How he would wish that his days would revolve around you, that his first thought in the morning would be riding by your side through the flourishing meadows, and his last thought in the evening would be caressing your face as you lie slumbering in his arms.

It would have been a blissful fate his, if only Sybilla's husband had not died at the very moment when he would have needed him most. If only his mother had not convinced him that Guido de Lusignan was a good fit for his sister and had continued to seek a new consort for her, perhaps that fate would not have been snatched from him so early. Too late to repent now, for Baldwin would have preferred to die agonizingly on his throne rather than leave power in the hands of that bumptious and arrogant lord, who was noble only in title.

And so he found himself in this sort of hellish limbo, forced into a position that should never be required of a man in his condition, but prevented by his morality from abandoning his reign, impelled by faith in God's greater plan, that his suffering should not be in vain.

And his faith always seemed to strengthen when he had a way to escape the stifling air that characterized the throne room, always packed with knights and crusaders and nobles, when he had a way to retreat to the palace gardens, one of the few verdant places in all of Jerusalem.

With slow, swaying steps, Baldwin strolled slowly among the local palm trees and flower beds from the faraway lands, those where men speak Italian and the more distant ones, those from which his fathers came. Exotic fruits mingled with those more congenial to the French, who out of nostalgia for their lands and fields did what they could to bring the seeds of these plants with them to overseas.

His mind seemed to go out, shifting his attention from the constant buzz of court demands and duties to the chirping of birds perched on the roof, to the eviction of the soft branches that shielded him from the scorching sun. He enjoyed the refreshing air that reigned in that small oasis of greens, which was able to infiltrate the fabric of his white robes, crossing the bandages that covered much of his body and finally reaching his skin, numbed by leprosy. 

To tell the truth, of that refreshing sensation little reached his damaged nerves, if not for those few points that had been spared by the merciless disease, from which departed that unusual shiver that caused him a delicate smile of relief, enjoying the refreshing breeze. Then he closed his eyes and breathed in, discovering with satisfied surprise that that light gust was also a harbinger of an intoxicating perfume, a mixture of exotic and familiar.

How funny to think of the concept of "exotic", for an Angevin born and raised in the unknown lands of the east. For him it was exotic French fruit, exotic were the green plains and heavy clothing that brought his allies from the northwest, and equally alien to the snowy mountains and forest beasts that he saw drawn in detail in his childhood books. It was these changes of perspective that stimulated his mind in a myriad of thoughts and reflections, but in a pleasurable way for him, not as exhausting as his daily duties.

His reflections on exotic and local made his mind travel, wandering until he came to a subject very close to him: Muslims and Jews, reflecting well on the landscape in front of him, recognized that he could share with them the same concepts of what is foreign and what they can claim the original belonging. And he could not but reflect on how it must have been for the first inhabitants of Jerusalem to observe the Franks who came as conquerors, and filled their gardens with such foreign plants as those pale warriors who had taken possession of their dwelling... But after all, the French soldiers who were emissaries of God’s will needed something familiar to stabilize them as they fought to reclaim the Promised Land, ut Deus voluit.

But all his brooding over these matters of conquest and submission ended up in the background in his mind, when a colorful scarlet sphere caught his attention. An exquisitely red apple seemed to tempt him from a branch just above his head, beckoning him to be picked and savored by the king, that he might lose himself in the juicy sweetness of that fruit with origins so far removed from the Holy Land. But the king's modesty prevented him from yielding to that temptation, wanting to avoid exposing the advanced state of deterioration in which his mouth was.

And in fact if that temptation had been alive it would have pale in front of something much more captivating, a sound that echoed in the most melodious distance of the song of any nightingale. Baldwin was surprised to think that he had not realized before the melody that inibriated the atmosphere around him, so taken by the tribulations of his mind that he almost missed such an intoxicating song. He did not know what he felt once he arrived in Heaven, if he had ever arrived in spite of the unjust fate in Hell that the evil Saracens wished him. He didn’t know it, but if one ever had to imagine what Heaven sounded like, that song would come to mind.

When I see the lark beating 

Its wings in joy against the rays of the sun 

That it forgets itself and lets itself fall 

Because of the sweetness that comes to its heart

She sang in Occitan, the beautiful one in the distance. The voice of his people, of his lineage, that few in the palace can pronounce after so many years of distance from their homeland in Provence. Paying more attention to the echoing song, he would not even have had to approach it to give a face to that melodic voice: he knew how to recognize his wife’s voice.

Yet it was a new context in which he saw you, new facets of you that he had not yet had a chance to observe. Your voice, sweet as honey, venerable like all your other traits, he had never heard it except in speech, when you were proclaiming orders before your subjects with the authority fit for a queen, or when you laughed at the poems and performances of the court singers, or when you whispered in Baldwin’s ears sweet words, while you lay with bodies merged between the soft silk sheets. Always spoken, but never sung.

Alas! Such great envy then overwhelms me 

Of all those whom I see rejoicing,

But though he didn’t need to approach you to recognize you, the desire to see your face exceeded any of his other needs. As if mesmerized by the sound of a siren, Baldwin was advancing towards you, with steps so slow that it seemed a hunter about to catch a deer in the woods. He wanted nothing more than to hear you sing again, that you continue to bless him with that angelic melody. What worse sin would there be than to interrupt your song, more sacred than a prayer?

His stomach filled with butterflies and turned upside down like the beasts' jugglers, his breath seemed to stop in his throat, depriving him of the breath he no longer needed, as long as he could hear you sing a moment more. And her cheeks warmed, when finally she saw you among the white lilies, more beautiful than divine salvation.

I wonder that my heart, at that moment, 

Does not melt from desire.

Baldwin wondered if you sang with him in mind, if those words of love reflected your own emotional turmoil. 

Oh, if only it were so, and your singing equalled his own words inscribed in the sonnets and poems he composed in your honor, which he himself commissioned from your favorite singers to perform at banquets, only to steal an embarrassed smile and to see the blush of your cheeks, along with the glint in your eyes.

Whether it was or not, the outcome remained the same since he was at that moment in your proximity, in the same state mixed with adoration, love and wonder at the bold gesture. But if only he had confirmation from your words...

Alas! How much I thought I knew 

About love, and how little I know, 

Because I cannot keep myself from loving 

The one from whom I will gain nothing.

"My angel, your voice sounds like heaven but your words are false." Baldwin practically saw you blow up from your session, completely taken aback by his sudden appearance, unaware that your husband has been acting as a secret public all this time. Your initial surprise quickly turns into a laugh to mask your embarrassment for being caught in a moment like this, when you thought you were alone to be able to run the streets of music with your voice.

"I beg your pardon, I thought I was alone in the gardens," your eyes met his own only for a moment, before you turned your face to try and hide the blush of your face, "it was just a silly song I heard singing to the Provençal knights. I hope I did not disrupt your walk, my love..”

He laughed softly, trying to hide his amusement from having caught you off guard. He approached you more quickly than when he did just a few moments before, but with the same phlegm that managed to inspire a feeling of safeness in you. Sitting by your side on the bare rock, he raised his bandaged hand to gently cup your face and make you turn your eyes towards him. It was only then, when you had no choice but to look at Baldwin in the face that you noticed how his eyes, the only part of his face exposed to the outside world, formed two half-moons, and you came to find that it was because of how widely he was smiling, as you lowered the veil from his face. 

He was making fun of you, you realized. With that swagger in his manner, you understood that his amusement came from your embarrassment at that silly misunderstanding. Laughing softly, he gently shook his head before bringing both hands to your face, holding it as if it were the most sacred of relics. "As much as I would love to hear you sing of your affection for me, just to hear your voice echoing in the air is the sweetest of gifts. How could you deprive me of this blessing thus far, my dear?"

You could do nothing but giggle at his sweet words, bringing your hands to his wrists to feel him closer to you. "You flatter me, my king. My voice boasts nothing more than those sweet melodies that the singers in the palace sing. Mine is only a dabble."

His gaze softened, his playful spirit addicted to your presence. He took the floor again, in a tone as soft as cotton, "At least this once, my queen, allow me to disagree with your words. My life may be short and my reality small, but never have I heard such an angelic voice, singing such sweet melodies. And God may not yet have granted me the ability to predict the future, but in my heart I know well that never will any singer be able to hold a candle to your beautiful voice, never will any song be able to express the same feeling of ecstasy.

"You, my angel, have managed to make a simple ballad an absolute work of art through your voice. I think I should take you with me into battle next time, for with your mere voice you could addict Saladin and his entire army.

"And seeing you here, angelic and perfect like the lilies that surround you, singing so softly that it would make any bird jealous, that I realize that whatever toil, whatever challenges God has stored up for me, and all those that still await me in my life, are worth it, if at the end of each of them there is you, voice of an angel, to hold a place for me in your arms of heaven." 

You were sure you were on the verge of crying a flood of tears, the result of pure emotion at his sweet words. It was not new to you that Baldwin worshipped you as much as the God to whom his kingdom was consecrated, from the first moment he got to hear your voice and admire your face, and you knew at once that he had become yours, body and soul. But it was new to you to see him like that, completely entranced by your simple being-it was something new. A wonderful newness that made you feel like the most desired of women on this earth.

Taken by a rush of boldness, you practically jumped into his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck; you ended up on top of him, with his hands around your hips. You both laughed, like two little boys frolicking in the gardens. And you left a kiss on his left cheek, then on the bridge of his nose. A kiss again on his forehead, and then down on the side of his lips. When you were about to give him another kiss, just where he most yearned for your lips, against his, you stopped a few inches away, with a wide smile, before speaking again, "If so little is enough to make your happiness, then I will sing to you every day, whenever you ask. Let me be your nightingale, your morning song and your lullaby all at once!"

"I couldn't wish for anything else, my dear. Now, however, I beg you, sing one more melody for me, before my duties drag me back to the palace, and I shall consider myself a blessed man."

"With great pleasure, my love." Your voice was now little more than a whisper. With a languid movement, Baldwin moved his body to rest his head on your lap, and you eagerly greeted him. After slightly moving the hood that veiled his head, so that you could play with his golden locks, you began to sing a new melody, one that this time spoke of reciprocated love, of the joy of being able to hold your loved one in your arms. But the words you sang barely reached Baldwin before his sky-colored eyes closed softly, his mind giving him at least a moment's despite from his perilous life. You continued to sing, caressing his face, which from day to day appeared more and more mutilated by his disease, singing the sweetest of melodies so as to prolong this idyll in which you and your husband found yourselves in. 

For with you Baldwin had a way of putting the crown aside, and being nothing more than a foolish young man in love, whose only duty was to love you, to love you with all the love that an angel like you deserved.

@sweetworkoffiction hope you like it <3

[coralcatsea]

Can't all of that usuk things be seen as brotherly love or someone who is important in your life but not in a romantic view? Not hating, honest just thinking

Your ask is about this post, right?

So looking at my examples, you can interpret it that way with some if you want, but with others...not so much.

I hope you actually want to hear me out, because this might get a bit long. Apologies in advance. 😅

-I can't imagine how awkward it'd be to view them as sıblıngs considering some of the suggestive things they do in canon. Personally, I think it'd be pretty weird to grab/tug on a sıblıng's apron when there's nothing underneath and say it "matches them well".

-If someone talks about your sıblıng being good looking, I don't think most people would get flustered enough to start sweating and trying to play it cool. I feel like the sıblıng equivalent would involve something more like eye-rolling.

-For the cake one, sure, you could interpret it as them being goofy in-universe, but from a meta perspective, putting an item that is so heavily associated with you on top of the cake seems to me like putting the wedding figures at the top. It comes off as intentional fan service, which Hima often likes to include.

-For Valentine's Day, the scene with Alfred and Arthur is paired narratively right alongside the shippy GerIta stuff. Additionally, there is a note that says this:

"In Europe, it's traditional for lovers to give gifts to each other."

"In America, giving gifts is also mainly done between lovers."

It does indeed mention male to female, but only to give cultural trivia about the difference between Europe and America. The important part is the emphasis on lovers, and we all know Hetalia doesn't shy away from same-sex shippy moments – as evidenced by Germany proposing to Italy in the very same strip. Speaking of proposals, one dynamic that closely parallels Arthur/Alfred is that of Antonio/Lovino, and Antonio tried proposing to Lovino in the manga.

I digress.

-Sıblıngs typically don't suggest ideas like dressing in sexy outfits and swaying their hips provocatively. Which reminds me, I forgot to include a similar scene in my post where Alfred intentionally has Arthur wear a Robin costume that shows off his legs. Yes, intentionally.

"Also, didn't you notice your costume is from the movie and mine is from the comic?"

Of course Alfred would notice. There's no way a big Batman fan like him would've chosen Arthur's costume carelessly, but instead of answering why Arthur has the skimpy version of Robin's costume when it doesn't even match his, Alfred instantly deflects. He then proceeds to tell Arthur to stop crouching and show – ...something. Based on what Arthur is covering, the logical assumption is that Alfred is telling Arthur to show off his legs.

-"Are you fighting like an old married couple again?" Self-explanatory. If they were sıblıngs he could just say, "Are you having a sibling squabble again?"

-Cardverse is a canon AU by Hima, and Alfred and Arthur are the King and Queen. Magical Strike is also a canon AU, in which Alfred has a fαthεr who is the company president. No other fαmiliαl relations are given. Arthur is a salaryman who simply works for the company.

-There's the scene where Arthur is dying that plays on the "near-death love confession" trope.

-Other characters comment on their relationship...

Again, if it was brοthεrly they could just call it a brοthεrly quarrel. It comes off to me more as teasing friends who could potentially have romantic feelings for each other.

-Tony sees it, too, teasingly commenting "Love me bubu. Kiss me bubu," in reaction to Arthur and Alfred's conversation. He doesn't normally say things like that, either.

-Terms like "big brοthεr" in Hetalia shouldn't automatically be taken literally. They are used in a more Japanese sense (e.g. calling a somewhat older person who isn't related to you "big brοthεr" out of respect). France calls himself "big brοthεr" to literally everyone and even Norway refers to Denmark as "brοthεr".

-Regardless of how you interpret their usage of "big brοthεr", Arthur decides against being called that right away, Alfred himself rejects the idea of it during the Revolution, and Arthur later claims their relationship is "not like that" and fumbles for a way to describe it, mainly considering himself as more of a former mentor or boss.

So I believe that after the Revolution, it's most accurate to consider them as coworkers or friends (who may or may not be attracted to each other).

_____

At the end of the day, you can interpret it however you want. But with how often USUK fans are given a hard time for liking this ship, I wanted to point out that we're not pulling this stuff out of nowhere. It's hinted at and given shippy fan service moments just like several other ships.

I only really disagree with people constantly insisting they MUST be fαmily. Romance vs fαmiliαl are NOT the only two options. I would honestly like to see more non-shippers just let them be friends. Just because I ship it doesn't mean others have to, and just because some perceive it in a fαmiliαl way doesn't mean everyone else must view it like that, either.

And to those who do decide to hop aboard our ship, welcome! We have lots of variety to offer and are always glad for more people to have fun chatting about ideas with.

[easycompvny]

i’ve never shared this story time with anyone except my friends and i thought sharing it with BoB fans could be fun (because it was such an amazing experience!!)

GOING TO A BAND OF BROTHERS CONVENTION

i attended the commemorations in normandy back in 2019 bc i’m from france and i REALLY wanted to drag my parents there to show how amazing the whole experience was (and it was the 75th anniversary so yay). and then i discovered that they were doing a BoB convention with some of the actors (shane taylor, robin laing etc.) and as i was exactly in my BoB era, i figured it would be cool to attend. in my 17y-old glory, i went there with no one to help me go through all the tables and signing and talking (reminder i’m french and when anxious, my english is 10 times worse). fortunately, my mother asked a group of lovely girls to accompany me, and they even gifted me a bastogne card for the actors to sign !! (i had a poor piece of paper pls..) they were super fun and thankfully one of them was american, so it was easier to strike up a convo or joke around with the guys.

i’ll tell you their characters’ names but i remember seeing grant, shifty, popeye, penkala, dike, dale dye.. seeing how the guys were so close even in reality, how friendly the whole atmosphere was, seeing how connected to each other they are because they know this tv show will go on through the generations and is still important today is so special, truly.

but then i came around chris langlois, rick (welsh), robin (babe) and shane’s table and omg i could’ve fainted, i WOULD HAVE. doc roe is my fav character (it’s never the same in reality but i got really attached to him, even after rewatching so </3) and meeting the grandson of the real roe was mindblowing.

but here comes the funniest part : it was the american girl’s birthday, rick and robin did not understand that and thought it was MY birthday, so when they signed my stuff they asked how old i was yadayada. and then we took a picture, robin even filmed a video on my phone (that i still have. and my wallpaper is actually him showing rick and shane in the background) for my friend who was as much of a fan as i was back then !! that was so cool of him !! then they finally understood it wasn’t my birthday when we told them and they were making fun of themselves, saying i should hide the card before my actual birthday. coolest interaction ever and they were so chill, i could actually talk a little bit since i was less nervous w/ them !! LOVE THEM !!

after going through these mountains of emotions, we ate at a restaurant just beside the convention place and i could see all the actors leaving, rick smiled to me and robin did the birthday joke again. and THEN a few days later my friend posted a tweet abt it and robin actually replied so, you know, the fact that he did not forget abt it 10 minutes after was nice lmao.

once a fangirl, always a fangirl apparently. the fact that i first became a fan at 17 and now i’m 21, oof it hits ya. i truly think i will never live something that cool again, currahee forever or whatever !!

[hetaphilia]

England & Canada Fic Recs

my fellow royal red bros fans I am here hot and fresh with some fics about the two or majorly involving their dynamic that I enjoy, mostly from ff.net and ao3 (some are probably crossposted)

Golden Child - drunk England going on about how great little America was to Canada’s silent hurt... except maybe he’s not talking about America at all. Oneshot, ending gives me a nice warm feeling.

Industry and Grandeur - 1800s, France invites England and a colonial Canada to his country for an exposition, lots of lovely interactions between the duo. Just wonderfully written, some great historical Hetalia.

Gift of God - England and Canada head to a restaurant after a meeting to chat when they overhear the plight of a human couple tables away. Canada makes a selfless choice. Very sweet, really like how the author writes them.

The Cold We Hate - ACE family overall, but royal red bros too for sure. Details the North American ice storm of 1998 and how the weather affects America and Canada, staying over at England’s house so he can take care of them.

Teatime questioning - little Matthew asks England how to get a girl to like him, except it might not actually be about liking him, nor how to get a girl to in the first place. Toothrottingly cute, love to think this is how Canada gets into tea.

On Love and Loyalty - a look at Canada’s and England’s relationship throughout Canadian history. Just good sold stuff with a sweet ending.

The Frozen Friend - winter in Canada in the early days after England’s acquired him as a colony. Canada apparently has a strange man as an old friend, but England feels wary for some reason. Then he learns who he really is and oh shit. Slightly spooky and has protective Kumajiro, one of my faves lore wise.

Haunting Echoes - snippet of WW1 with kinda snapped Canada and worried England. Short but dark. Poor Canada.

Feverish - might be if not my fave Het fic, then among my top. FACE family centric, but lots of royal red bros throughout. Canada falls ill, tries to persevere through a world meeting, and things snowball from there as America, England, and France are pulled in to care for their brother that seems to keep getting worse after brief bouts of recovery. And Russia’s there too...? Canada’s failing health may be linked to something more subtle but nefarious than any of them initially thought. Great pacing, characterization, lots of character dynamics, knows when to amp up the tension and when to give it a break. Sadly, this fic remains unfinished and is unlikely to ever be completed, but the 20 chapters we do get are wonderful. I recommend it even if just to enjoy the ride.

[makoxxlip]

Tell me, please, how'd your conversation with Mr. Faustina go? I wanna know!

Tbh we mostly talked on the personal field cuz i introduced myself as french (if y'all didn't know i'm born and raised in France) and the fact i came all my way from France to Germany to see him shocked and impressed him so much! (but i needed him to know he's worth the trip 😌)

Then he proceeded to tell me so much about family stuff cuz his wife is half french and told me how bad he's at french and I was like "c'mon man 🙄" lmao but yeah i'll keep that part for myself not going into details

But on tlok, we obviously told him how much we loved Mako and Makorra and he was genuinely happy to see people still appreciating makorra like he does he even told us how he expected Korra and Mako to end up together after finishing voicing Book 4 🥲 (br*ke you have blood on your hands..)

So I told him even as a new fan (i only watched tlok back in 2020 so yeah my experience was WAY different as y'all og fans) I still appreciated his work as Mako, and as someone who have both Korra and Mako as her favourite characters I genuinely loved their relationship through the show despite the popularity of that other ship (mind you I literally told him that last sentence lmao) It felt so important to me to told him that with "baby" fan pov

Also he told us we should meet Janet one day! and told us an anecdote about Seychelle also said he would like to do see back Bolin's va but apparently it's been awhile he didn't went to any events 🥸

Then we gifted him our Makorra art and he was so happy seeing it, he immediately told us he gonna hang it on a wall in his house then went to store it cuz he was afraid to broke the frame or sum 😭😭

Then before leaving told him "the Makorra Nation was still alive and going well" and he was so grateful and hyped by it!

[yuzukahibiscus]

 ANIMAL HOUSE # 13 「Towaki Sea x Yuki Daiya」

"TAKARAZUKA Animal House" is a programme where Takarasiennes go to the cafe and introduce their beloved pets. # 13 features Flower Troupe Towaki Sea and Yuki Daiya, along with Daiya’s pet hamster Blan-chan! They have a talk, as they pick five cards of different topics! This episode, Hitoko (Towaki) picked a card on “Their impressions of each other” and they talked about different stories about them. Daiya later picked a card of “Her favourite movie of Blan-chan”. 

Note: This is a rough translation, it may have mistakes and may not be complete, please read it just for reference.

About the hamster:

Daiya: Hamster is Blan-chan or simplied Bu-chan (from the first character) because I got it when its "Paris in the Winter Fog” performance run and the stage was set in France and since [hamster] is pure white, "Blanc” is white in French, therefore "Blan".

Hitoko: I also have 2 cats at home. I thought over if I wanted a dog before, but now I think 2 cats are enough.

Daiya: I also wanted a dog before when I was in primary school but then I considered it may be a lot of work, to walk the dog and so on. But I have a parrot now also which can also repeat what I say!

Impressions of each other

(1) First impressions of each other

Hitoko: Daiya was my shinko role for “Haikara-san” but because that was cancelled, we didn’t get to talk much. But before that, it was one time when  passed by the elevator hall and saw Daiya practising alone [for “Masquerade Hotel”]. After knowing that it was "Flower Troupe’s Yuki Daiya" her first impression was: oh Daiya is great at dancing!

Daiya: I was a Snow Troupe fan before Hito-san transferred to Flower Troupe so I did go to see Snow Troupe shows...but when Hito-san transferred to Flower Troupe, I was happy cause at that time [in Decmber 2019], the “Olympia” team, the “Masquerade Hotel” team, even Snow Troupe [for “Once Upon a Time in America] were all practising in Takarazuka, so I was able to talk to Hito-san!  My first impression was: Hito-san was very charming, in terms of how she interacts with others and her vibe, I was just drawn to that charm!

(2) Nicknames Hitoko: Oh, right you started calling me Hito-san!

Daiya: Yes about that, actually since we were nearby there was a time where Hito-san and Seino-san were practising together... Hitoko: Oh, the Salome scene [in “Dance Olympia”]? Daiya: Yes, and we were just rehearsing on our own and we couldn’t talk to you because you guys are rehearsing, but I saw how you approached Seino-san and said, "Let’s get close and work well together" and I thought "Ah.... I want to speak to her soon...." and then later you told me "It’s ok for you to call me Hito-san" so I was very happy indeed, but sometimes still nervous to say it ... >< Hitoko: On the other hand, since everyone just calls you "Daiya", I was also worried if I should call you the same and in "Haikara-san” performance run I called you "Daiya-kun" but I later also went with calling you “Daiya”.

(3) Birthday presents Hitoko: My first Flower Troupe birthday was spent during "Haikara-san” performance run. Daiya made me a t-shirt and a tote bag as birthday presents. Now I still use that t-shirt and still put yoga mat into the tote bag when she goes warming up. Daiya: I’m so happy you’re loving the presents!

(After a little interruption of Blan-chan running on the wheel) Hitoko: I was also surprised because of course the performance cancellations happened [in "Haikara-san”] and later when I had another birthday, you knit my name on this blanket? and I thought "How did I influence this kid? Why is she making this amazing gift for me, why does she know how to do all this!?" I was surprised and happy. Daiya: Even though now we talked much more, before I wasn’t able to talk to you...because I didn’t have the courage to do so....but now there’s this programme and other opportunities that we can talk and be close to each other! Hitoko: I think it's alright if at first there's some distance, that we're not familiar with each other. At least it's getting better recently!

(4) Daiya’s memory of Hitoko

Daiya: The greatest memory is still "Haikara-san”! Even though it was a short time that we could talk or even didn't get to talk later, but I was thinking "If that was okay"... and feeling so nervous...

Hitoko: True, because that would be your first time taking on my role [in the Shinko]

Daiya: Because I love acting, and I would think a lot and be frustrated over some pain points, such as the awareness and feeling in acting, I felt that it's changed a lot.

Hitoko: I somehow also thought that after hearing my advice, it was memorable to me that you tried to make your characters stand out by thinking of what to preserve and what to change in your style of acting.

Favourite movie of Blan-chan

[pvtjxker]

A proper lady.

Donny Donowitz x OC

Written with the help of @saltynametag !

Warnings: none! Just a bit of tention :) (and a fascist perv)

English is not my first language (I'm from pizza country) so have pity of me q-q

Gif by me! <3

Mariangela was in disbelief.

They made her come down all the way for her dear Apennines and abandon her beloved brigade, put her on a train full of fascists for two full days and made her walk for four more, only for her to end up in Bumfuck Nowhere, France. And for what?

To join a platoon of disorganized degenerates, infiltrating swanky Nazi parties for intel?

Not exactly what she pictured when she got the letter from the US army... “fight the Nazi forces”, yeah right.

At least they didn’t touch her explosives, still safely tucked away in her suitcase. She looked at her reflection in the mirror; an expensive dress, silk maybe? Fuck if she knew, it was a gift, courtesy of the American government. She touched the delicate necklace hanging from her strong peasant neck, grimacing at the scars on her hands and face. She struggled with the eyebrow pencil, carefully drawing where her brows had been singed.

Everyone would know; these fancy things didn’t belong to her.

A knock on the door startled her,

“Y’done in ‘ere, miss?”, Aldo was growing impatient.

Mariangela tried fixing the smudge on her forehead, “Not yet.”

“Women...”

She recognized the other voice, shouting back, “Shut the fuck up, Omar!”

“I’m-a sorry, bella principessa, take-a all-a da time-a you need-a!”

In the few days they’d worked together, he’d latched onto her accent as a source of mockery. She sighed, smoothing out the burned ends of her hair and grabbed her purse, making sure her little Lugher was wedged between her compact and forged papers.

As she stepped out, Aldo let out a low whistle,

“Boys”, he gestured dramatically, “our lovely Miss Rah-vee-nah.”

The Basterds chuckled. She wasn’t so easily flattered,

“I look like shit.”

“Language, missy”, Aldo scolded, “S’a fancy party full-a fancy wiener eatin’ schnitzels and yer a proper lil’ lady, understand?”

She. would. rather. Die.

She opened her mouth to tell Aldo to fuck off, like the proper lady she was, when her eyes fell on Donny...

Oh Donny...

Her forbidden fruit...

As if he wasn’t handsome enough in army green or that goddawful wife beater...

But, God... did he look good in a suit.

Aldo’s gruff voice snapped her out of her daydream,

“Ev’ryone good on the plan?”

Donny nodded, a curl coming loose from his slicked back hair, “Me, you ‘n’ Omar work for Mari. Hugo ‘n’ Wicki are Gesta-fucks and Smitty stays back with the rest, case shit hits the fan.”

Mari nodded, distracted by that damn curl on his forehead when he offered her his arm,

“M’lady”, he said playfully.

She giggled like an idiot, “M’lord...”

“Questi crucchi non hanno proprio gusto...”

These Krauts have no taste at all...

Mariangela muttered under her breath as she took a sip of what the waiter called “champagne”... piss water, more like.

Her arm was still looped with Donny’s, trying to keep her cool and pass him off as her date. Looped was perhaps a generous way of describing it; her nails were dug into the fabric of his suit, making him wince,

“Watch it, my arm’s still attached, y’know...”

She jumped and smoothed his sleeve out, “Sorry... I’m nervous.”

“Really? I couldn’t tell”, he joked.

His playful demeanour put her at ease, and she even managed to crack a small smile, despite her dress nearly choking the life out of her. Who was in charge of tailoring, anyway? Had they ever met a woman? She took another sip of piss water and caught a glimpse of Hugo, who wasn’t any better off than she was. He looked like he was seconds away from ripping the clothes off his back and fighting everyone in his birthday suit. And honestly? She wouldn’t blame him. Flitting through the crowd of fascist, covering for Omar and Aldo’s terrible excuse for Italian accents, smiling...

She was going insane.

At the very least, it was all going smoothly.

“Mi dicono che lei è italiana, sì?”

They told me you were Italian, right?

A man, in a carefully pressed fascist uniform with hair as shiny as his boots, caught Mariangela’s arm.

Shit.

He smiled and it made her skin crawl. Be polite. Be polite.

“Certamente! Pensavamo di essere i soli...”

Certainly! We thought we were the only ones!

The man wrapped his nicotine-stained fingers around her wrist, bringing her hand up to his chapped lips. Donny stiffened beside her, squaring his shoulders. The man introduced himself,

“Galeazzo Marchi”, he paused to kiss her hand again, “piacere di conosorela.”

Galeazzo Marchi. Pleasure to meet you.

Aldo and Omar shifted uncomfortably behind them, as Galeazzo rubbed his thumb over Mari’s knuckles. She sent a panicked look Donny’s way; his nostrils were flared, his muscles tense, eyes wide and angry... if looks could kill...

“E il signore...”, he gestured to Donny dismissively, “chi dovrebbe essere?”

And this man... who is he meant to be?

She blinked.

Fuck.

Donny looked pissed. Omar was sweating bullets and she could feel Aldo’s eyes burning a hole in the back of her head, she could practically hear what he was thinking, “fuck’s going on over there?!”

They were meant to be tourists. Just rich tourists, they hadn’t worked out any other details... she blurted out the first thing that came to mind,

“Il mio fidanzato.”

He’s my fiancé.

“Oh, capisco…”

Oh, I understand…

He answered.

He smiled with the smile of someone who doesn’t actually care. He wasn’t going to give up.

“Posso offrirle da bere?”

Can I offer you a drink?

He said, taking a glass of piss water from the silver tray of a fancy dressed waiter and handed it to her.

She was about to take it, more than anything out of pity towards the man, but Donny was faster, and handed her his own glass, still full.

“Com’é gentile, da parte sua…”

How kind of him…

Galeazzo looked bitter.

Donny smiled at his reaction.

Mari took the glass and took a sip, trying to release the tention.

She took a glance of Donny, who was staring down at the man with a glare of challenge. Like if he was daring him to do something she still was unaware of.

“Quindi…fidanzati, giusto?”

So…engaged, right?

“Sí! Da quasi due anni, ormai.”

Yeah! For almost two years now.

The man smirked. She didn’t like it.

“E…vi amate molto?”

And…do you love each other?

Mariangela was about to burst, but decided to stay silent for the sake of the mission.

“Sa, stavo pensando che una coppia bella come la vostra sarebbe un vero piacere da ammirare…”

“You know, I was thinking that a beautiful couple like yours would be a real pleasure to admire...”

That was the last straw.

Mari replied, contemptuous, with a raging blush on her cheeks for the embarassment.

“Non ho idea di quello che lei sta cercando di fare, camerata, ma la risposta é e sarà no!”

I have no idea what you are trying to do, camerata, but the answer is and will be no!

The man smiled, as his hand grapped her wrist.

Tightly.

“Non sono il tipo di uomo a cui si dice no.“

I’m not the type of man you say no to.

A weak metallic sound.

The loading of a gun.

She looked down and saw a tiny Walther P38 in Donny’s hand, pointing straight at the man’s belly.

Mari looked back at the man, reacting with a smil at the look of terror Galeazzo had on his face.

“Un po’…territoriale, il suo uomo.”

Your man is a bit…territorial.

“Non é il tipo di uomo a cui si dice no.”

He’s not the type of man you say no to.

Galeazzo turned pale white.

Donny pointed at the restroom’s door with the gun with a friendly smile, grabbing the man’s shoulder tightly and dragging him in.

As soon as he walked in, she walked towards Aldo and Omar.

“What’s goin’ on, why did he go there?-”

“Don’t, Aldo, it's too long to explain.”

A few moments later, Donny walked out, looking unbothered.

“What happened? What did you do to him?”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, doll.” He replied, adjusting his suit.

Doll.

He called her "doll".

Well, there’s always a first time, I guess.

She wrapped her arm around his, as soon as he offered it to her to take, her cheeks burning.

“What matters now is that he’s not gonna be a bother anymore. Anyway, are you alright? Did he hurt you?”

She took a glance at her wrist, but not even a tiny scratch was there.

“No, don’t worry.”

“I do worry, actually. I’m glad you’re not hurt. I would have killed him…”

Aldo walked towards them, hissing to their ears. “Can you try not to get in a mess for five seconds? I swear if-”

A deep voice interrupted him from behind him.

“We got what we needed. Let’s get outta here.”

It was Wicky, followed by a pissed off Hugo.

“Wenn ich in fünf Sekunden nicht aus hier komme, drohe ich ein Massaker zu begehen.”

If I don't get out of here within five seconds I risk committing a massacre.

Hugo complained, quickly interrupted by Wilhelm, who stepped on his foot.

“Halt die Fresse! Wenn sie uns jetzt finden, geht alles schief!”

Shut up, goddamnit! If they find us now everything will be ruined.

Hugo flinched, but went quiet.

“Well then, I guess we don't have much time before that creep wakes up and comes out of the bathroom looking for me and Donny. We gotta move.”

They all started to walk towards the exit.

“What did that guy ask you for reacting like that?”

Omar asked. Donny shrugged. “I dunno, they spoke italian the whole time. What did he tell you?”

Donny asked to Mari. She stiffened, slightly tightening the grip on his arm for the embarassment, her cheeks turning red again.

“Nothing, keep walking.”

It didn't take them long to return to their base, an abandoned shack in the middle of the countryside in northern France. She sat on a chair, in a room upstairs. The perk of being the only one allowed to have a private room, for…well, obvious reasons. She took off her dress, finally being able to breath. The tossed the dress on the bed and put her usual clothes, finally being more comfortable. As she was taking her make-up off, she heard a knock on the door.

“Come in!”

Donny walked in.

“Y’alright?”

She straightened her back on her seat, coughing softly in nervousness, her cheeks slightly red.

“Could be worst.”

He walked behind her, resting his hands on her shoulders. She stiffened.

“I just wanted to say you looked good tonight. I've never seen you dressed so fancy. Or with any make up on.”

He looked nervous.

“Thanks, Donny, I…I appreciate.”

“Like…very good.”

She looked at him through the mirror, with a questioning face.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that you were very beautiful.”

Donny suddenly looked very nervous.

“Not that you're usually ugly, of course.”

He was…complimenting her. He was complimenting her. She tried to smile, her cheeks red. She looked at one of his hands and hesitantly rested hers on it.

“Thank you, Donny.”

“Anytime.”

He looked at her one last time, before taking her hand in his and kissing her knuckles.

“Goodnight, Mari.”

“Goodnight, Donny.” She answered, with a faint voice.

He then got out of the room, gently closing the door behind him.

She looked at her hand and kissed it where Donny kissed it too.

“Ti amo.”

_________________

Divider by @saradika !

[ishouldsleepbut]

Pt 2 of my kinnes + appreciation of Frances Janvier

*This contains spoilers for Radio Silence by Alice Oseman and it's also a long post sorry*

So I just finished Radio Silence by Alice Oseman (which is fucking amazing, pls go read it if you haven't), and ooh boy. I got myself another kin. This time the lucky one is Frances Janvier.

At first, Frances seems like you typical overachiever: head girl, A's on every test, almost no hobbies (unless you count studying) and she wants to go to a prestigious college (this time it's Cambridge). Secretly though, she's an artist who obsesses over and posts fanart about her favorite podcast, Universe City. Over the course of the story, we see Frances works her ass off trying to get into Cambridge for English Lit. She says when she's not doing homework, she feels like she's wasting time (I know that feeling). I'm gonna quote a line from the book that really hit me hard.

Context: Frances is on the train to Cambridge for her interviews. "Everything I'd ever done at school had come down to this... What else were you supposed to do when you got the best grades in the class, without fail, every single year? Why would I waste an opportunity like this?". Frances continuously reiterates that if she doesn't get into Cambridge, all of her hard work and studying a subject that she doesn't even LIKE will be for nothing.

And like, as a so-called "smart kid", that hit fucking hard. It genuinely feels like your whole personality is just getting good grades which is a problem because school doesn't last forever. No one in their twenties remembers what they got on their 7th-grade math finals. And so when gifted kids like me take a step back, they realize "Oh shit, I don't know who I am anymore". Because when so much of your life revolves around being perfect over and over again, taking every opportunity to get higher academic achievements, you forget that it's ok to be human. It's ok to not get everything right, it's ok to do other stuff instead of studying, and it's ok to fail. And that is such a hard lesson to learn because it has been ingrained in our brains by either ourselves or the people around us that failing is the worst thing you can do. Just… reading Frances break down when she found out she didn't get accepted to Cambridge… I cried. Like actually cried. (God this book is so good, seriously, go read it.)

I also want to talk about Frances' relationship with the podcast Universe City and fandom stuff in general. Frances is a huge fan of this podcast and she even regularly posts fanart of it on Tumblr. No one knows about this though, as Frances is scared of people finding out. She's afraid people will think she's just a fandom-obsessed weirdo. Frances even feels like there are two parts to her: School Frances and Real Frances. This ties back into the whole "being perfect" thing. I feel like a lot of gifted kids relate to this (read I relate to this) because you feel like you have to be correct and perfect all the time. You can't ever show your "weird" side because then people might not take you seriously (especially when you're a racial, ethnic, or gender minority) or they'll judge you for it. Like I'm in a lot of fandoms. I read fanfiction. I make edits and fanart. Hell, I've even watched those gatcha life "characters react to themselves" videos. And a lot of the stuff I've mentioned is so stigmatized that I feel like a lot of us have just taken to hiding it. I honestly don't tell a lot of my friends about the fanfics I read or what ships I like or my headcanons for specific characters. If I share those things with you, that means I really trust you (...or I don't know you and I'm posting it on Tumblr).

And honestly, that's why I love Tumblr because I can just talk about my silly headcanons for x character and gush over some cute fanart. If someone sees and likes my posts, great. I'm glad you liked it. But if not that's ok.

Well, congrats for making it to the end of this hella-long post. Thanks for listening to me ramble for a little bit about some personal stuffs. Pls read radio silence if you haven't, it's so good. It and Frances need more appreciation because they are both so awesome.

[saltysideblog]

Letter To Cimitero

Inglourious Basterds (2009) x OC Blurb

Summary: Georgia Lombardi donated several documents to the Basterds Project, inherited from her grandfather in the spring of 1967. The following is a letter written by Italian Basterds member Mariangela Ravenna, dated September 1944, restored and digitized. English translation: Luca Mandato

Warnings: One single Italian swear.

Words: 273

Mariangela belongs to @pvtjxker ❤️

September 14th, 1944 

Giverny, France 

Dear Cimi, 

I am writing to you from the little town Claude Monet used to paint in. I was never a fan of his paintings until I saw the gardens here. I can only imagine what they looked like before the war. 

We are in an abandoned hostel, a little ways off the road and I feel like crying. I feel like a fool. You always told me not to fall in love, that it would only bring heartbreak, but I didn't believe you. Now here I am, crying over a boy. I should've listened to you, Cimi. 

The very same boy from my previous letters, the one with the big brown eyes and dashing smile. The one who beats the fascists with a bat. The one who flirts with anything that moves. 

That's part of the reason why I'm crying. He talks of the girls he used to date in Boston, shows me the pictures they gifted him before he shipped out. Tall, graceful things, they are. Nothing like me. The eyebrowless freak. Nothing like the childish idiot who scribbles on his hands. 

But his hands, Cimi, are so much bigger than mine and so gentle when he touches me. He gives me butterflies. 

I get dizzy when I'm near him and I know he doesn't feel the same. Even though I've made my peace with it, my heart still breaks. 

If you could see me now, weeping in the bathroom like some teenager, you'd probably scold me. 

All the best, 

Mariangela 

PS: I haven't gone soft, don't worry. I killed three fascists stronzi just today alone.

[hotarutranslations]

Fukuoka!

Evening

Fukuoka performance! Thank you very much!

Today's venue, had a gentle slope……?

It looks tight to me🙈🙈 lol

I thought, there are lots of fans from my point of view--!

On one hand, thank you very much, for the lots of support today! Did you enjoy it!

Also, today,

I was really happy……🫶🏻

Nakazawa Yuko-san came😌💜

Everyone took a photo with her, Nakazawa-san was in the mood to get going right away, so I went to change my clothes but,

After I changed she was still there!!

I got a 2 shot with her after I changed🙈💜

I'm happy

Nakazawa-san really, really, conveyed that she enjoyed it…… It was cool….. that the 2 in 17th generation are cute…… All of her words were warm,

Personally Ishida also, got to talk with her for a bit after taking the photo,

(But its kinda, I ended up talking about myself a ton, moreover I was speaking in a way where I couldn't stop, I was definitely really strange…..I got closer because I wanted to chat but I'm not a good conversationalist so I want to be reborn soon…..)

Its like that, really, my heart was full as it was filled with love

.🥺🥺🥺❤️‍🔥

Morning Musuume is big, really……🌏💫

Nakazawa-san always watches over, I couldn't say it well but in any case I love her!!!

I'll do my best from now on!!!

Fukuoka,

The mentaiko rice was really delicious, the fried egg with mentaiko on top was also delicious, Its not related to Fukuoka but the hayashi rice was also delicious, The gift I got from Ikuta-san was also delicious, the gift we got from a magazine editor-in-chief, I'm looking forward to eating the Menta-France tomorrow as well~~🤤

Its been a while in this tour, since having 4 performances during the weekend!!! that is,

Speaking of a solo tour its always like that but🙈

Its been a while, When schedule was decided to have lives at this momentum, It was like, Oooh…can we do it…? Thats what I thought at first but,

No actually I was out of breath lol

I've doing my best from the support! there were days where I realized this again😌🫶🏻

This is the end of the 4 performances during the weekends! Thank you very much!

Next week is finally our last hall, Hokkaido

⋆͛📣Tickets are here

There are 9 days till Yokohama Arena …eh, 9 days! lol

November 28th (Tue) Yokohama Arena "Neverending Shine Show" SPECIAL

November 29th (Wed) Yokohama Arena "Neverending Shine Show ~Sanctuary~"

⋆͛📣At movie theaters nationwide, Hong Kong, & Taiwan, there will be live viewings held

→General Sales From The 18th

⋆͛📣The live broadcast will only be available on the 29th

Lets run through------

see you ayumin <3

[new-sandrafilter]

Timothée Chalamet and Taylor Russell Will Eat You Alive: How ‘Bones and All’ Became the Year’s Sexiest Cannibal Love Story

By Nick Vivarelli Photographs by Jason Hetherington

Timothée Chalamet has been on a wilder world tour than most rock stars.

Between shooting “Dune: Part Two” in Budapest and “Wonka” in London and the cannibal romance “Bones and All” in Ohio, he’s hardly had time to sleep in his own bed. “We did the ‘French Dispatch’ premiere in Cannes,” he says about the debut of the Wes Anderson comedy in the south of France two summers ago, where he walked the red carpet in a silver suit. “And then I was immediately doing the vocal and dance training at Leavesden” — to take on the role of Roald Dahl’s Willy Wonka — “which was wonderful, because I went from playing a disenfranchised cannibal on the outskirts of American society in the ’80s to a gifted young chocolatier and now a space prophet.”

On this afternoon, 26-year-old Chalamet is taking a break from inhabiting the dangerous planet Arrakis in “Dune: Part Two” to attend the London premiere of “Bones and All.” The drama, which premiered to a 10-minute standing ovation at the Venice Film Festival in early September reteams Chalamet with Luca Guadagnino, the Italian director who turned him into a movie star with 2017’s Sundance darling “Call Me by Your Name.” That gay romance, in which Chalamet plays Elio, an American teenager who falls in love with an older man, not only made Chalamet, then 22, the second-youngest best actor Oscar nominee in history, it gave peach emojis a whole new reason for existing.

If “Bones and All” could be just as culturally relevant, Hollywood would breathe a sigh of relief — because the world of indie cinema could use a jolt. Some 20 years ago, a generation of movie lovers funded art-house theaters by supporting “Boogie Nights,” “Memento” and “The Virgin Suicides.” Now, the 2022 equivalent of storytelling like that is HBO’s “Euphoria.” Post-pandemic box office numbers are sharply down, particularly for smaller movies, which is why United Artists Releasing has given “Bones and All” a Nov. 18 theatrical release: It’s the same window in which almost all installments of the “Twilight” saga dropped, setting multiplexes on fire as teen girls showed up in droves for Kristen Stewart and Robert Pattinson.

When I meet Chalamet in a hotel room in London, the young actor offers to pour me a glass of sparkling water as we sit down for a conversation with Guadagnino and Chalamet’s co-star, Taylor Russell. Hollywood has had a deficit of movie stars lately, particularly in the 20-something age bracket. Chalamet’s superstar appeal has always been in his “soft boy” aesthetic (which was famously parodied in a hilarious “Saturday Night Live” skit by Chloe Fineman). His fans like that he’s approachable, but he can also turn it up like royalty on a carpet — as he did at the Venice premiere of “Bones and All” in a red jumpsuit with a bare back that created a commotion on the Lido. Chalamet was showered with more cheers than even Harry Styles, who touched down in Italy at the start of awards season for “Don’t Worry Darling.” (Despite speculation on Twitter, Styles didn’t spit on Chris Pine.)

At Venice, Chalamet made headlines when he proclaimed that it’s “tough to be alive” in the age of social media, adding, “I think societal collapse is in the air.” When asked to elaborate on this assertion in London, he backpedals: “I think what I was saying was really, ‘What would it be like to grow up now?’” he says. “I guess I’m still growing up. Especially in the context of my career, I’m still growing. But I think Taylor and my generation was really the level-one social media — Vine, MySpace. And I think now it’s just more ingrained. But I’m definitely not the authority on the subject. And, equally, it could be a great space to find your people.”

I’d taken my 14-year-old daughter with me to the premiere of “Bones and All,” and we watched the screaming hysteria around Chalamet. When the movie premiered six weeks later in Milan, hundreds of Chalamet’s devotees — his followers are known as the “Chalamaniacs” — swarmed the venue, forcing police to close down the red carpet due to safety concerns. Such fandom harks back to the early days of Leo, Matt, George and Brad.

“Venice — that was fun,” Chalamet says, though “fame,” to people of his generation, is a dirty word, and Chalamet clearly wants to be seen as a regular guy (for instance, he continued to ride the subway in New York after “Call Me by Your Name” premiered). “I enjoy those moments,” he says, “and have a lot of gratitude for them. And I definitely never want to be expectant about it.” Abruptly switching subjects, he adds, “And, I must say, I get very excited about the lens we made this movie through — that there’s a fable and a metaphor at the heart of it, not some massive corporate interest.”

An arty New York City kid at heart, Chalamet chooses his own looks, including the black leather Celine jacket he wears at our photo shoot. As for his thoughts on cinema, he has a soft spot for indie films. “Those are the kind of projects that I grew up loving,” he says. “Even just on the music side, those are the kind of artists that inspire me — not because there’s a beat per minute that places well in the Top 40, but because they’re just putting their artistic ethos on something.”

Chalamet knows a little something about music. At the famed LaGuardia High School, he had the rap moniker Lil Timmy Tim. An uncovered video of him rapping about statistics class while wearing a backward baseball cap has been watched 10 million times on YouTube. Soon, he’ll be returning to those roots (sort of) by channeling a young Bob Dylan in “Going Electric,” a biopic directed by James Mangold.

Although there have been starts and stops with “Going Electric” since it was first announced two years ago, Chalamet confirms that he’s still attached. “I haven’t stopped preparing, which has been one of the greatest gifts for me,” he says. “It’s been a wonderful experience getting to dive into that world, whether we get to make it or not. But without giving anything away — because I don’t want to beat anyone to the punch, and obviously things have to come together officially — the winds that are blowing are blowing in a very positive direction.”

Before that, fans will get a taste of Chalamet’s musical gifts in “Wonka,” which is set to open in theaters around Christmas 2023. Chalamet trained hard for the movie’s seven musical numbers. “That was something I was very excited to jump into right away,” he says. Director Paul King “built a literal dance studio in one of the lots at Leavesden in London at Warner Bros.,” he adds.

The actor’s career blossomed after “Call Me by Your Name,” with two dramas directed by Greta Gerwig — “Lady Bird” and “Little Women.” And then he landed the lead as Paul Atreides in the “Dune” franchise, his biggest hit to date.

“Dune: Part Two,” which he’s filming now, reunites him with “Little Women” co-star Florence Pugh. “We were joking on set that we keep doing these movies, and we end up together even though we should be ending up with different people,” he says. “Florence is really special. She’s an incredible actor. She was incredible in ‘Dune’ — seriously incredible. She brought a gravitas to the role. And I can’t believe my good fortune at this young age … between Taylor Russell in ‘Bones and All’ and Zendaya in ‘Dune.’ And Austin Butler’s in that movie too.”

Zendaya will have a larger role in the second “Dune,” reprising her part as the warrior Chani. “She hasn’t wrapped yet,” he says, “and it’s amazing. She’s bringing exactly what she brought to the first one — which was incredible — but in greater abundance. And she’s really become a sister. I’m so grateful to count her as a partner and a sister and a friend” — he looks over at Guadagnino — “and also to share stories about how amazing it is to work with Luca, because we worked with him back to back on wildly different projects.” He’s referencing the fact that Zendaya collaborated with Guadagnino on “Challengers,” a romantic comedy set in the tennis world, which is in postproduction.

“He saw the movie,” Guadagnino teases, goading Chalamet to comment.

Chalamet hesitates, not wanting to give away anything about the film. “Loved it,” he finally says. His smile lights up the room.

If we’re being honest, this Oscar season has been a bit boring. Between the period pieces and the dramas made from memoirs, most directors aren’t cutting too deep. So perhaps we shouldn’t count out a love story about two cannibals who eat their way through the back roads of America.

The conventional wisdom is that blood and guts is too much for most Academy voters, but Guadagnino is here to tell you that’s not always the case. “In the history of the Oscars, cannibalism has been a gigantic plus,” he says. He then lists the five Academy Awards handed to the greatest flesh-eating masterpiece of all time, “The Silence of the Lambs.” “There’s a very tough novel, the talented script and Sir Anthony Hopkins as the unforgettable cannibal.” He cites the film’s director, Jonathan Demme, as a strong influence on his own career.

“I’m not comparing myself or us to that masterpiece,” he says. (OK, maybe he is, just a little.) “But that was a love story like ‘Bones and All.’ It was a fun, twisted love story between a cannibal psychoanalyst and a very stern woman who wants to save herself by saving this other girl from the lair of a serial killer.”

If you’re raising your eyebrows at someone describing “Silence of the Lambs” as “fun,” you haven’t met Guadagnino. The tall, chatty Italian director has spent his entire life obsessing over Dario Argento’s horror classic “Suspiria.” Following “Call Me by Your Name,” Guadagnino directed an elegant remake, in which flesh is ripped and heads explode.

Now, he’s reunited with Chalamet on “Bones and All, which is not quite the next “Silence of the Lambs” but more along the lines of Terrence Malick’s “Badlands” or Baz Luhrmann’s “Romeo + Juliet.” In “Bones,” Chalamet and Russell play Lee and Maren, teenage misfits in the 1980s, who find each other in a roadside convenience store as they’re both drifting across the Midwest. As they travel together, they feed on strangers they meet along the way.

But just don’t compare cannibals to vampires with this crew. “I love the ‘Twilight’ movies so much,” says Russell, who broke out in 2019 with a heart-wrenching performance in Trey Edward Shults’ family drama “Waves” and now could have a shot at some awards-season gold playing Maren. “But this is different. They both deal with blood and people who are not normal, but ‘Twilight’ has vampires and this movie has cannibals.”

For many years, Guadagnino — the director of “The Protagonists,” “I Am Love” and “A Bigger Splash” (all starring his muse, Tilda Swinton) — was either detested or ignored within Italy’s insular film milieu, and the feeling was mutual. So it’s not surprising that the first time I met him, in 2009, he told me his goal was to become “a Hollywood insider.” Surely, “Call Me by Your Name” brought him a step closer to that dream. And now his association with Chalamet has potentially clinched the deal.

When asked how “Bones and All” made it to the big screen, Guadagnino says, “The honest, direct and completely unapologetic answer is Timothée.”

Chalamet was in Rome doing reshoots for the first “Dune,” stuck in Europe during the pandemic, when Guadagnino sent him the “Bones and All” screenplay. They talked at length, and the actor realized that this could be the first project in which he might have a hand in shaping his character.

“It excited me, because it felt like it was very different than the first project we had done together,” Chalamet says. “It excited me, too, because I felt the bones of Lee — no pun intended — were there, but there was a lack of direction.” Guadagnino encouraged Chalamet to fill out the character by working with the screenwriter, David Kajganich, an experience he’d never had before.

“When Luca said I should get on the phone with David, and that process started, I was seriously warming to the idea that — without sounding pretentious — we would be going to the middle of America with Luca to shoot his first American film.” He adds, “And because a couple projects I’d done were of such a size, I felt like I really wanted the challenge of going back in a more ‘indie environment.’” He uses his fingers as quotation marks.

Kajganich, with whom Guadagnino collaborated on “Suspiria,” had originally adapted the YA novel “Bones & All” by Camille DeAngelis for “The Devil All the Time” director Antonio Campos. When Campos backed out, the writer asked Guadagnino to read it.

“When Lee shows up on the page,” says Guadagnino, “I found Timmy.”

Despite having a big star attached, the cannibal romancer was not an easy sell to investors. Guadagnino and Chalamet, both producers on the film, didn’t want a studio on board, so they sought out Italian financiers. The fact that they and all the other actors were willing to defer their fees “really helped with investors,” says producer Francesco Melzi d’Eril.

Once the $35 million film was completed, it was immediately snapped up, sight unseen, by MGM.

Taylor Russell could see her character clearly when she first read the script for “Bones and All.” “What struck me about her initially is that she’s this kind of creature who feels like there’s something off with her, like a picture frame that’s slanted,” Russell says. “And I wanted to work through that exercise of ‘If there is something inherently wrong with me, is there a way to break through that?’”

Guadagnino told Russell and Chalamet that they had to sink their teeth into the role of real cannibals. “The intention was always that we were hopefully doing justice to the reality of these people’s lives,” says Russell.

Guadagnino calls “Bones” “a fairy tale.” “It’s about two young people — a girl, in particular — roaming this world of darkness and dealing with the challenges within and without, finding love in the gaze of one another and trying to overcome impossibility.”

Still, the outcast lovers feast on human body parts, a butchery the film does not shy away from. Guadagnino says quickly that he and his editor, Marco Costa, made a point of cutting away from gratuitous gore. He was not interested in shock value but rather an intensity of desire.

Russell and Chalamet, for their part, wanted to explore the emotional relationship more than the cannibalism. But, Russell says, they also “talked about eating somebody, eating anything, using your body, your hands, your mouth — it’s so tactile, so physical, that, in some ways, it’s simple.”

Guadagnino and his team thought about the consequences of a precarious life led roaming through cornfields and along back roads in the 1980s Midwest, “dealing with violence and the unexpected.”

“We came up with a lot of very subtle ideas about wearing the fatigue of being an eater on their faces and bodies — like scars in unpredictable places because of the reactions of the victims, who wounded them.”

One of Chalamet’s first lines in the film is “If you weigh 140 pounds wet, you got to have an attitude — a big attitude.” Asked whether he lost weight for the role, Chalamet answers, “Yeah,” without elaborating on how many pounds he’d dropped. Then he says, “That look that Maren and Lee have, I think it feeds the fablelike quality of the story, and of people that are living in extremes. As opposed to what the reality would be, perhaps: If you were consistently devouring entire human bodies, it would probably leave you with a bigger figure than they have.”

Chalamet worked with costume designer Giulia Piersanti on Lee’s look, riffing off the grunge aesthetic of 1980s punk rock. “Lee would want to express himself through his clothes,” Chalamet says. To help with this mix of big attitude and skinny body, they decided to dye his hair with sun-bleached streaks of pinkish reds, chop off some curls on the sides, and give Lee tattoos on his arms and hand.

Of course, everyone wants to know if Chalamet and Guadagnino are planning a sequel to “Call Me by Your Name.” Guadagnino floated the idea almost as soon as he debuted the original at Sundance, while he was doing press with Chalamet and Armie Hammer, who played Chalamet’s older lover, Oliver. But the project’s chances of making it to the screen have dwindled in the wake of allegations against Hammer in early 2021 for being physically and emotionally abusive to women, including suggesting that he eat their flesh. (Despite speculation in the tabloids, these cannibal exchanges had nothing to do with the inspiration for “Bones and All.”)

“I would love to make a second and third and fourth chapter of all my movies,” Guadagnino says. “Why? Because I truly love the actors I work with, so I want to repeat the joy of doing what we did together.”

However, when it comes to “Call Me by Your Name,” Guadagnino says, “there is no hypothesis, so there is no movie. It’s a wish and a desire, and I have not made up my mind about what would be the story.” When asked if the film could still include Hammer’s character, he says, “Yeah, of course.” Then he presents another potential storyline for a sequel — following Mafalda, the housekeeper, played by Vanda Capriolo, who resides in Elio’s family’s summer home. “Which is divine,” he says. “I would be very interested in seeing what is the life of Mafalda when she’s not around the family.”

After our group conversation, I meet with Guadagnino again in a bare, neon-lit room that seems better suited to a police interrogation than an interview. He is walking on crutches, one leg in a short fracture boot, due to his tripping on the Academy Museum of Motion Pictures stage after presenting a Visionary Award to Tilda Swinton in L.A. a few days earlier.

On the red carpet, before the Academy Museum ceremony, Guadagnino teased “Challengers,” his first U.S. studio film, which is being produced for MGM by Amy Pascal. To get Guadagnino on board, Pascal had sent him the “Challengers” script and pushed him to read it that same afternoon. She called him every half hour “until I surrendered and I read it.”

So does Guadagnino finally feel he has become a Hollywood insider?

“No,” he says, “not yet. But I can fall from the stage of the Academy Museum and be helped by many Hollywood insiders.” Among those who came to his aid were Adrien Brody, Alicia Vikander and his longtime agent, Bryan Lourd. “That was a good feeling. A lot of Hollywood insiders love me very much.”

[sobeautifullyobsessed]

🌹

FOR EVERY “🌹” RECEIVED IN MY INBOX I’LL POST ONE RANDOM SENTENCE OF A RANDOM WIP I’M CURRENTLY WRITING

from my WIP, The Secret of Salvation, a War Horse AU Romance

Late August, 1914. The eve of Major Jamie Stewart's departure for deployment in France. Time for farewells with the woman he adores.

“I could let myself love you, Jamie Stewart, if you gave me reason to…if I could believe you would come back to me, once you’ve done the duty you are bound to do.”

He breathed in the scent of her hair once more and then kissed her forehead, thoughtfully asking, “What might a man do, Fannie, to prove himself to you?”

He could feel her hesitation, as she inhaled sharply, carefully considering her answer, “Why, I don’t know—for no man has really tried before.  And not a single one has ever asked…”

Jamie felt something loosen in his chest, and a sense of rightness filled the open space which the loosening allowed.  “How about this then?”  He slid the signet ring off of his finger, and placed it on her palm, gently closing her fingers around it.  “Would you keep this for me until I return?”  He did not tell her that he had never offered such a gift to any woman in his life.

“Jamie, no,” she told him, trying her best to sound nonchalant.  “It would probably slide right off my finger and be lost, before you even arrive in France,” she teased him—though he was unconvinced, for beneath her playful tone, he could hear how moved she actually was.

“Then wear it on a chain for me, Fan,” he suggested, watching the lovely fall of her lashes as she looked down at his hand upon hers.  “That way it will lay against your sweet skin, and it will be—for me—as though a part of me is with you still.”

Fannie sighed deeply and buried her face in the crook of his neck, only able to nod her acceptance of his gift, lest she shed tears she believed he would find too sentimental.  Jamie discovered he wouldn’t mind so very much to feel such tender tears wet his skin…and that now was the perfect time for such a tender moment.  He held her more snuggly, and murmured matter-of-factly against her brow, “That’s settled then.  You’re my woman now, and will remain so until my return.  Until…” he paused, plumbing his heart more deeply then he’d ever done, “…until I can put a proper ring upon your finger—if you’ll still have me once my duty’s done.”

~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~

chapters 1-5 on AO3

@strangelock221b - you're probably the only one who will remember this WIP

[saruin]

Your reply to my long ask was so sweet ❤️

I met my very best friends online. My best best best friend and I have been friends for ten years now, and we love each other to bits! It's unlikely we will ever meet, as he's in Australia and i'm in France, but our friendship isn't any different from an IRL friendship. Yes, we can't meet up to hang out, but we've know each other since we were stupid teenagers, we've had 9 hour skype calls where we would do our own thing but just be in each other's company, we send each other gifts and know each other's secrets. We supported each other against terribly family members. Meeting online doesn't matter, a bond is still a bond! Your friends are real friends, no matter how you met.

The taking your time thing reminded me of something. My favourite youtuber is french, and he has the most loyal, stable and supportive community i have ever seen in his 11 years on youtube. You never, ever see a "I preferred the old joueur du grenier" comments, because he has a very distinct schedule that gives him the ability to stay creative and keep doing videos as a hobby.

He only uploads a video about once a month, and he takes a two month break in the summer where he doesn't even touch video making (except if he feels inspired). With fan support, his videos have gone from less than ten minutes to pushing 40, with more actors, higher budgets, better equipment and more extravagant scenarios (they rented an entire castle and hundreds of actors for at least two videos) and the quality has never done anything but go up.

That way, despite 11 years on the platform, his content is always hilarious, original, very well made and always the best it can possibly be. Making daily videos for the algorithm (or weekly, back in the day) is what causes quality to plummet to the ground.

By trusting his community, Joueur du grenier allows himself to take the time he needs to make content he believes his fans will enjoy. That's why, even if he misses a month, you won't see people in his comment section get mad. Actually most people will be saying they were happy to wait, since it meant a high quality video.

I see similar reactions in your community, although on a smaller scale. People love your cc and the effort you put into it, and making quality takes time, and when you have a solid community that understands that, you have a community that will never abandon you, even if you take a break.

It was a good decision to not paywall or go with early access. I think it teaches people to be patient, and therefore be happy to wait for a modder to go on break.

Thank you so much anon. ❤️

I remind myself all the time that I don't have to rush through things. or if I take a break my followers will understand. Not because I feel pressured to create but because I do go through bouts of depression or anxiety where it gets hard for me to even get out of bed or do anything more than stare at the tv while some inane netflix show is playing. I try to be as transparent as possible with all my followers and going forward I think it'll only benifit me in the end.

[stephanie-black-swan]

Hello to you, who will read these few lines 🙂 I don't think Taylor Swift will read my message here, but rather to a member of her team? Anyway hello!

I am writing this somewhat special message today to ask a question. I know my post will be just one of 1000, but maybe someone will read it anyway.

I am Stephanie, and I live in France. I have my ticket for the Eras Tour. For me it will be in LYON at the GROUPAMA STADIUM N2 on June 3, 2024. I have a VIP FOSSE OR LEFT ticket with early access.

Here, we do not have postal or email addresses that we can use to contact our favorite international artists (or their teams). So I am trying my luck on this address, hoping that someone is interested in what I write here. And even better, that someone reads my message to the end.

I am 28 years old. Apparently, I am an adult. I think? In any case, I never stopped writing and dreaming. If this makes me a child, if this is the price to pay, I accept it! Maybe I have a slight Peter Pan syndrome.

Despite everything, I am a fairly introverted and reasonable person. I am very rational, I like to analyze everything, and I hate being noticed. As a result, I have never been a “fan” as people tend to say. I have never gone after an autograph or a photo with a public figure. Besides, most of the time, I don't care if a person is famous or not. I myself would absolutely hate being famous. I also never claim that you can truly know a public figure solely through their image and the marketing around them. Above all, stars are not Gods, just people like the rest of us. They also have their fears, their joys, and their demons. But all this rationality does not, sometimes, prevent us from admiring a person. Not because she is famous, but because she shakes our emotions and our thoughts through her art.

Since childhood, I have been very socially awkward. I was teased and harassed most of my schooling. For what? Oh, just because I was already 5' 11" tall at the very beginning of middle school, and I often sat in my corner scribbling poems and stories on my sheets of paper. I was listening to music in my ears non-stop, and I was in my own world. And besides, I haven't changed that much. Maybe it's also because I have autism, that's what the psychiatrist told me haha. Words and music have, are and always will be my only escape in this sometimes brutal and dark world. I still write, whenever my emotions need to be expressed. Because I never express them as well as with words. After my father died of cancer when I was 18, words and music were kind of the only thing in the world I still had. And that's what kept me going.

You now see very well where I was going with this: yes, during this period, I discovered and listened to the music of Taylor Alison Swift. So obviously not only that, I've listened to thousands of different artists, and there are a lot of them that I love. But no other artist has touched me like Taylor Swift has. Apparently people say she's a witch? No, she is a magician with words. The poetic magician of the 21st century.

I read everywhere that at a concert, people were chosen to interact with her during the song "22", and others to meet her before and/or after the concert. But also that these people were often chosen based on their super stylish outfit, their screams, their dedication on the internet. But I have neither the time nor the energy to create "fan pages" on social networks (besides I don't particularly like social networks), I don't have the means nor the desire to spending fortunes on merchandising or "cosplay" clothing to attend the concert, and above all I don't have the "thing" to scream and move in all directions. As I said, I am not a fan per se, and Taylor is a human being. Besides, I don't care about autographs, even photos. I don't want visibility on the internet, that's not what I'm looking for. I don't want any gifts. I don't need all these things.

But that doesn't stop me from dreaming of one day having the opportunity to shake the hand of an inspiring artist. Look her in the eyes and simply say “thank you, for your music, for your words, for everything”. Yes, I dream of that. And I admit, in my life I am often saddened by the fact that I never had luck. Please note: I am not complaining. I have a wonderful mom who I am very close with, I have a wonderful boyfriend who I love with all my heart, and they are the most precious things in the world. But regarding the little extra thing, the bonus, the little dream moment: I always watched others have it. I know for a fact that many others are like me, and that I am not a special person compared to others. And most of the time I don't care if they get lucky and I don't, I don't need it. But for this time, just for this, I would really like to have a joker and be able to say "hey, this time I'm the lucky one today!". But no matter what, this Joker would never happen alone. Luck provokes itself, it decides. This is why I sent this message, to try to induce luck. For the rest... Fingers crossed!

For the person reading these lines (IF someone read this), and if they have made it this far: thank you from the bottom of my heart, and have a wonderful day :)

@taylornation @taylorswift

[carlahetfield]

Owner of Famous Kurt Cobain Cardigan Is Pennsylvania Man

October 27, 2017

The iconic mohair cardigan

The world’s most expensive cardigan is locked in a gun safe in rural Pennsylvania. It has a mysterious stain in one of its pockets — “some kind of brown, crunchy something in there,” according to the sweater’s owner, which he guesses could be chocolate, or vomit. There’s a missing button and two cigarette burns. It smells like a grandmother’s musty attic. Still, the last time it sold, it fetched a whopping $137,500.

The cardigan’s not studded with diamonds or knit by a couture atelier. But more than 25 years ago, it was wrapped around Kurt Cobain during Nirvana’s MTV Unplugged performance.

Made by the careful hands of none other than fashion designer and former supermodel Carla Hetfield, Cobain’s ex-girlfriend whom he remained close to for the remainder of his life, it was gifted to him as a Christmas present in 1988. By the cardigan’s weathered state, it’s evident that Cobain wore it often. Hetfield has sewn several other things for him throughout the years but none of them have emerged to be auctioned.

Garrett Kletjian, the owner of professional race car team Forty7 Motorsports, is the current self-described “custodian” of the garment; he purchased it at Julien’s Auctions in November 2015. When the sweater arrived at Kletjian’s house via overnight mail, he says, “I opened it up and it immediately hits me: ‘Oh, now I’m also going to be responsible for this.’ It was kind of like when my children were born years ago; I was so happy to see them, but then I was like, ‘Oh no…’ ”

Cobain wore the sweater for months preceding his 1994 suicide, on the now-legendary Unplugged performance in November 1993 and several times on tour before his death in April. “I look at that sweater from a different perspective than maybe some people do,” Kletjian says. “He was obviously in a bad way at the time. I look at this sweater as something that he put on every day, created for him by the woman he considered the love of his life. It was comfortable and it was familiar. So I liked the idea that, while he might have been tortured inside, this was a piece that offered him a bit of comfort.”

Following Cobain’s death, the garment was gifted to the family’s nanny, Jackie Farry. “There were a lot of people coming in and out of the house to show support and pay their respect to Courtney,” Farry says. “She was giving a lot of people that knew him things he owned; valuable things like sweaters. I remember she kept going into the bedroom closet and coming out with more. It was around then that she gave me that cardigan.” Farry shuttled the sweater around with her for the next two decades in a safety deposit box. (She didn’t wash it, either.)

Farry initially bequeathed the sweater to Frances in her will. But after 11 years of fighting cancer, she agreed to bring it to the auction house in 2015. “I wouldn’t have got involved if I didn’t need the money,” she said. “Before I would commit to selling it, I asked Carla first and foremost. I mean, she made it for him, and I didn’t want her to see it as some sort of snub. Luckily, she was incredibly understanding and even told me that if Kurt knew of the situation I was in, he would definitely want me to sell it. I also got in touch with Courtney and Frances to make sure they were cool with it too. I remember telling them what Carla told me, about Kurt wanting me to sell it. They agreed.”

Since the sweater was only expected to go from $40,000 to $60,000, Farry was surprised when the numbers crept into the six figures. “My dream was to get a swimming pool when it sold,” she said. “When in real life the money I earned from the sweater went to boring stuff like rent, insurance and existing for a couple of years — which is exactly what I needed.”

Kletjian is a longtime Cobain fan — he has a giant painting of the man in his kitchen — and decided the sweater would be a good investment. “There are certain things that I won’t collect, sure, because I think that they’re going to depreciate in value,” he says. “Then there’s things that I would collect that really have a solid place in my heart. This Kurt Cobain sweater has a special place.”