#so the whispers i saw about wind charges and stuff. I THOUGHT IT WAS VAULT HUNTER OR SOME MOD THEY WERE PLAYING

[aliferous-ly]

I started playing Minecraft again . what the fuck is a trial chamber

[sagi-babe]

Two birds and a book

Type: One Shot

Character: Talbott Winger (duh)

Warning: None

(It is my first time writing something about the game. So I did it with my mc, Ofelia. If you would like me to write with your mc’s just let me know! And I hope that little story makes you happy in your quarantine. Enjoy!)

...

"Ofelia, are you alright? You've been thoughtful all day.” Rowan commented worriedly to her friend in the potions class.

"Yes Rowan, don't worry." It's just that I've been thinking about Talbott. The blue-haired Hufflepuff answered.

“Talbott Winger? Why? Have you had problems with your transformation to Animagus?”

"No, it's something else, since that day I kind of miss him..." Ofelia replied with a certain blush on her cheeks seeing that no one heard them.

“You miss him…?” Rowan asked bringing her hand to her chin. "The only thing I can say is that I find him someone great... Someone who transmits a very good vibe to me, besides... Why that expression on your face?" Ofelia looked confused at her friend who had a smile on her face.

“Do you like him!?” Rowan exclaimed as if he had been given a surprise party.

“Shhh! ¡Rowan!…” Ofelia whispered, looking back confirming that they were not heard by other ravenclaw alums.

“Ofelia, the girl with curses and vaults... She likes someone!”

"I don't know if I like it, but why is it so weird?"

"You told me months ago that you are so focused on your brother and the cursed vaults that you prefer not to think about that kind of stuff."

"I guess nobody really chooses when that happens..."

"Then you do like him..." Rowan replied with a friendly smile.

Ofelia flushed her eyes, gently pushing her best friend.

"Why don't you come over to him tomorrow at lunch?"

"I don't know... I'm not so sure that he really considers me his friend... Also I don't think he likes someone with as many problems as me."

“Cheer up Ophelia! You are a beautiful and great girl! And I don't think you're a troublesome person, you just do what you have to do and it's never with bad intention.”

"Thanks Rowan! but I doubt it's especially me... Besides."

“Why so much talk Busternatch? You better grind down those roots or I promise you will be part of the potion.” Professor Snape said in his deep voice.

The next day, being already Saturday, all the students were happy to enjoy their rest on a warm sunny day. The honey-eyed girl with glasses was on her way to the large dining room, carrying an old book of transformations with her. Apart from the fact that he had to study, it seemed an ingenious idea to use him as an excuse for a conversation. She was so anxious that she didn't notice when a ladder moved to another path and immediately returned to her place. Upon arriving she leaned out the door and spotted Talbott having lunch, alone, as always. But she did not dare to approach. Truly Ofelia found him attractive, she liked to see how his red eyes determinedly read a scroll with notes that he had in front of his "beak" while he had his hand lazily on his chin. Her plan was not to declare himself, but rather to get closer, to have a pleasant conversation. Even that was a difficult feat. It was the second time in her life that she had been attracted to someone, and the first time it did not end well. If we add Talbott's understandable attitude… She didn't expect this time to be different. Due to the bird boy's sharp instincts, he turned around at how much he felt he was being watched. Ofelia, being swift, escaped immediately. However, Talbott caught the unmistakable blue hair of the girl of the vaults, which he saw move in the wind as she ran into the courtyard of the clock. The boy in the Ravenclaw robe rolled his eyes and turned to his parchment trying to refocus, but he was already inevitably thinking of her. It seemed strange to him that she didn't show up in weeks after helping her become an Animagus. But seeing her, he was somehow relieved. Realizing the feeling, he looked away from the parchment, frowning slightly, wondering why he felt good about it.

Ofelia sat down next to a bush. To try to get Talbott out of his mind and start studying.

After 15 minutes Ofelia managed to get into the complicated art of transformation, forgetting the rest. At one point, the only thing that managed to capture his attention is a large eagle that perched on a branch in complete silence in front of him. Surprised, she looked at the animal and his next reaction was to stand up from the bench, bring the bird's beak closer to his face and caress his head.

“What a cute bird!” She said in a cheerful voice.

At that moment a crack was felt, because the branch had broken. And instead of a bird there was a boy with a totally flushed-looking face, he was Talbott.

The two boys stood with their faces dangerously close, taking the attention of the students passing by. The hand on the bird's head was now on the third-year student's cheek. Ofelia transformed into a bird of small size and flew away from the embarrassing situation in which she forgot her book.

“How you almost kissed him!?” Rowan asked surprised in the common room of yellow and black tones, being alone on the sunny day that had touched them. 

Ofelia was lying on the couch in front of the fireplace with a pillow on her face completely flushed.

“I wasn’t going to kiss him! I told you, like a stupid I forgot that he could transform into an eagle and I called him “cute bird” approaching him abruptly… I think from now on I'm going to get less excited about the animals… Besides, he was having lunch in the dining room! He would never have approached me...”

“But he did…”

“…”

"It was nothing serious, Ofelia. And it is clear that being so lonely, if he approaches you, it is for something”.

While Rowan spoke to her, she gradually sat down on the couch, putting on her glasses.

"If he was so interested, why didn't he come closer in his human form?" The blue-haired girl asked in frustration.

“What don't you realize? He do not know encouraged to do it in its true form. Just as you did not dare to approach him in the dining room.”

“I-I suppose you're right…”

"Love relationships are complicated, you should investigate why..." Her friend said in a joke.

“Hey! We are nothing…”Ofelia said with a laugh.

"By the way, where's the book you told me you were carrying with you?"

Ofelia widened her eyes, bringing her hands to her head.

“I forgot it!”

Ofelia greeted her friend to ran to the window, turned into a bird to fly outside and flew towards the place where everything happened.

Neither the book nor Talbott were there, just a first-year Gryffindor munching on treats. As she flew looking for the book (which she very much hoped Talbott would have) her bird form collided with something hard that caused her to stop flying for a few moments. However, the bird that carried the cause of its blow was swift and it flew underneath it causing it to remain on its back. Still somehow stunned, she realized what was happening before they descended into part of the castle grounds. Upon landing Talbott returned to his wizard form, while Ofelia remained a bird.

"Sorry, are you okay? I just wanted to return the book you had forgotten.”

Ofelia did not respond, she couldn’t speak in her bird state, which was a good thing.

"Come on, what's going on?" Talbott asked in his deep voice as they sat down on the grass.

The bird's head turned to the side showing shyness.

“Is it because of what happened before? Don't worry, didn't even feel bad...”

Talbott realized what he had said immediately, opening his eyes wide and looking aside, wondering why those words came out of his mouth.

Upon hearing this, Ofelia returned to her human form, her face flushed but surprised.

"F-forget what I said, just take your book..." He said as he left it in his hands.

Breaking the awkward silence, Talbott spoke again.

“How you feel?”

"Yes... Speaking of that..." She put her hand to her head with a painful expression.

“You need something?” Trying to cover it up, it was clear he was worried about her.

"I think I'm going to ask Mrs. Pomfrey for ice from the infirmary..."

“Do you want me to come with you? I was responsible... So I must take charge.”

Ofelia was a girl who used to be perceptive with people in general, so she felt that he really wanted to be with her, which made her quite happy.

“Sure! We go flying?”

“Your flight can be affected after a blow like this, I recommend that until tomorrow you don't do it and also… I fly solo.”

"Okay, okay." Said with giggles.

The two boys, not forgetting the book this time, headed towards the castle.

"Thanks, you really are a cute bird." Ofelia said with the book behind her and pushing him gently.

Talbott's mind went wild again when she called “cute bird” With a slight blush on his cheeks he looked at her with an annoyed expression.

"I'm not, and don't call me like that again..."

"If I don't, would you like to snack later? The truth is that I did not have lunch.”

“Why not?”

“Never mind…”

"...Well, just because it's my responsibility to make sure you're okay and that you don't fly for today."

Ofelia feeling instead of butterflies, birds, in her stomach... She smiled widely looking down.

“Why the smile?” Asked the bird boy looking at her.

“Because it’s a beautiful day!" 

Talbott did not want to admit it, but Ofelia's smile was very cute for him.

[lithugraph]

Glory Days

Fandom: Hetalia

Characters: APH Lithuania, APH Prussia, APH Russia

Rating: T

Summary:  Amid a dying empire, nearing the end of the Cold War, Toris and Gilbert listen to Bruce Springsteen on a stolen radio and re-live their own “glory days.”

Written for Pruliet Week 2019, prompt: regret.

This is a work in progress.  I didn’t get it all finished by the deadline, but I figured I’d go ahead and post what I’ve got so far.  I will post the whole fic once it’s done.

April 1986

Toris hated dinner parties.   

He could remember a time when that wasn’t always true.  Could remember a time when he found them enjoyable.  Surrounded by men in furs with swords at their hips, ladies in richly embroidered robes.  Amber light cast by the fire roaring in the castle’s great hall warmed the cold stone and the guests as they conversed, intimate and raucous.  Of course they hadn’t been called dinner parties then.  Banquet or feast would have been more appropriate.  If he closed his eyes, he could sometimes still smell the roasted boar.

As the world lurched ever closer to modernity, these dinners became less celebratory and more formal.  Crystal and porcelain replaced wood and pewter.  Tables grew in length, not to seat more people, but to accommodate the sudden swelling of place settings.  Who decided forks and glassware should come in threes?  What was wrong with a simple knife and fork? Toris sighed, looking around at the feting guests.  That was the thing with being immortal – the catch.  You could always remember a time that was far simpler than the current one.   

But even memories were subject to fault.

Toris’ eyes swept the dining room once more.  At the head of the table sat Secretary Honecker, East German head of state.  To his right, Secretary Gorbachev.  Next to him, of course, sat Ivan.  Other East German Politburo members and their wives rounded out the gathering.  Ivan had gone over their names during their flight from Moscow to East Berlin, but Toris was too preoccupied with not throwing up as the plane dipped and climbed during its turbulent trip.  

 They were there for the eleventh congress of the Socialist Unity Party.  Well, Ivan was.  And Gorbachev.  Toris was brought along to act as Ivan’s security detail.  As always.  

Even at the dinner party.  He kept to the room’s perimeter. Occasionally stealing a moment to check the rest of the house for “threats.”  Really it was a chance to sneak a shot of vodka or a quick smoke.  There was no need for additional security.  The Waldsiedlung compound, which housed the most senior state leaders, had that covered. Nicknamed Wandlitz after the nearby town, the compound existed as its own walled utopia in the lush forests north of East Berlin.  In addition to the wall that, Toris thought, greatly mimicked the much larger one surrounding West Berlin, troops from the Stasi’s paramilitary wing kept the grounds under tight guard.  Didn’t want ordinary East German citizens discovering what luxuries their leaders indulged in.  Even Toris managed to relax a little as he and Ivan secretly enjoyed the amenities of the elite – tennis courts and a shooting range, a cinema and department store that only sold Western goods.  Ivan was bound to denounce it all the moment the dinner ended and they were on their way back to the guest house, but Toris saw the smile spreading across his lips as he did backstrokes in the pool that afternoon.

“Join me for a smoke?” a voice said from behind, making Toris jump.

“Dammit, Gilbert.”  

The Prussian’s face appeared in his periphery.  Toris could practically feel the grin radiating off him.

“Is that a yes?”

Toris feigned disinterest.  “We’re supposed to be on duty.”

Gilbert clicked his tongue.  “Like that’s stopped you.”

Toris watched him from the corner of his eye.  

“C’mon, Liet.  Two of my guys can cover for us.  ‘Sides, I got something I know you’ll like.”

“And what might that be?”

 “You’ll have to come with me, to find out,” Gilbert teased.

Toris took another look at the guests.  Everyone was deep in conversation – talking, smiling, enjoying their drinks.  Even Ivan.

Gilbert nudged his shoulder.

“All right,” Toris whispered.

The Prussian’s grin widened. He signaled behind him.  Two guards appeared, as if condensing from the surrounding air.  Toris shuddered, glad the light was dim, and followed Gilbert out.  

Wispy clouds streaked the evening sky, pulling their veil over the setting sun, its ember glow softening in pale oranges and purples.  The black pavement shimmered beneath in bronze and silver.  A rainstorm had passed while they’d been inside. A damp chill hung in the air.  

Gilbert lit a cigarette the moment his foot was outside.  He handed Toris his pack and lighter.

“Marlboros.”

“Only the best Western tobacco for our glorious Eastern leaders,” Gilbert said sardonically.  “Let’s go for a walk.”

Gilbert shoved his hands in his pockets, only to pull them out moments later to return a salute from a couple of passing guards.

“Fuck,” he muttered, shoulders rounding.  The spark that lit his face the dining room had noticeably dimmed. And Toris knew why.

Gilbert had been put in charge of his government’s secret police.  A role he never much relished but one he carried out as only his duty-bound nature would allow.  And it was the only way to ensure his cooperation.  Gilbert was not like the other satellite states.  Whereas Erzsebet and Feliks were content to live the proletarian life among their citizens, Gilbert was the perpetual soldier.  He needed structure, command, discipline, or else his misdirected energy would have erupted in chaos. Therefore, the only way to keep him in check was to grant him some measure of power, perverse as it was.  

They walked on a few silent moments.  The streets were deserted, save for them.  Everyone was at the dinner party.

The street ended at an intersection, beyond which stood a small forest.  A path was just visible through the opening in the trees. Gilbert made his way toward it. Toris followed, tossing away his cigarette, drawing a deep breath the moment he was under tree cover.  A wistful smile crossed his face as he gazed up at the canopy above.  A cathedral of wood and greenery.  The branches like rib vaulting.  The leaves like stained glass.  

An even light lit the forest as twilight fell.  The shadows of night had yet to emerge as they traipsed through the undergrowth.  All evidence of suburban paradise faded away.  No streets, no lights, no houses.  Toris felt himself grow taller with each stride.  His stretched, back straightening with another slow inhale. He removed his cap, scratching his fingers over his scalp as locks of brown hair, free from their binding, tumbled down around his face.

Gilbert came to a halt and turned.  A dark green wall stood in front of them, nearly camouflaged by the undergrowth. It stretched in either direction, running the perimeter of the forest.  

“I’m surprised Ivan didn’t have you cut it,” Gilbert said, gesturing at the Lithuanian’s hair.

“He’s mentioned it.  Several times.”

Gilbert smirked.  “He likes it too much.”

Toris glanced away.  Suddenly the forest canopy seemed a whole lot closer.  The tall feeling he’d had moments before was fading.

“If all you wanted was a smoke and to talk about my hair, we could have stayed at the house.”

Gilbert dropped his cigarette.  It hissed out on the wet ground.

“Why’d you drag me out here?” Toris pressed.

“I thought you’d like the walk.”  Gilbert shrugged.  “Or maybe I’m just…sick of walls.”  He aimed a petulant glare at the one in front of them. “You and I — we’re not made to be kept inside.  We need this.”  Eyes lifted heavenward, to the cathedral of leaves. “You felt it, didn’t you?”  An earnest look, almost pleading.  “It feels right.  Being out here.”

“Yes,” Toris said softly.  “But things are different now.”

Gilbert sniffed, wiping the back of his hand across his nose.  The curve of his cheek glistened.

A gentle wind tugged at their uniform sleeves.  A subtle reminder.  They really ought to return.

Toris tucked his hair back under his cap.  Gilbert kicked the wall with the toe of his boot.  Above them, the leaves twisted and swayed like hands, inviting.

They left the woods in silence. Toris felt himself catapulted back to the present the moment they emerged.  Houses and cars – all of suburbia – screamed at him under the electric glare of streetlights.

Gilbert fished his last cigarette out of his pocket.  They shared it as they walked along the empty street, their booted heels scuffing the pavement.  Neither was in any hury to get back.  

“I got a new radio,” Gilbert said.

“Oh?  And what did that cost you?” Toris asked, thinking of the Western store in the village 

Lips unwound in a mischievous grin – one that revealed he had not paid a cent for his new radio.

“You’re despicable.”

Gilbert waved the comment away.  “They were a couple of Wessies.  Students. Tryin’ to sneak stuff in for black market sales.”  

“Hm.  I’ll bet they shit themselves silly.”

“You have no idea.  I swear, border patrol beats the hell out of this state dinner crap any day.”

Gilbert finished the cigarette as they reached the house.  “You should come over.  We could listen to it.  That is, if you can ditch dear old Vanya.”

Toris glanced at the door.  The sound of a piano and singing could be heard.

“Shouldn’t be a problem.”  

Ivan was most likely a few drinks in by this point, Toris thought.  He would be useless in the morning.

“Tomorrow, then?”

Gilbert grinned.  “Tomorrow.”

.

 .

 . 

Toris paced in front of the guest house gates, half expecting to be summoned back any moment.  A part of him hoped it would happen.  Except Secretary Gorbachev was not likely to need him for anything.  Besides, the Secretary preferred to use his own men.  Toris was only there because of Ivan.

He looked back over his shoulder, back at the guest house.  Did anyone even care he wasn’t there?  Ivan hardly noticed his extended absence last night.  And the Russian was deep asleep when Toris checked that morning.  He knew from past experiences that Ivan would keep to his room the day after any celebration.  But that knowledge did nothing to allay the twisting in the pit of his stomach.    

Toris drank a cup of coffee before leaving.  The serving staff paid him no mind as they bustled about their morning routines.  He learned long ago to move with a sense of purpose and power to negate suspicion.  Back straight.  Eyes forward. Head level.  People were less likely to bother you if you looked like you couldn’t be bothered with them.  It granted a certain degree of anonymity, a freedom to come and go as he pleased.  It was a power Toris knew not to abuse.  And he was all too aware of how suspicious he might look, standing outside the guest residence, if Gilbert didn’t hurry the fuck up and show soon.

At that moment, the hammering sound of an engine could be heard echoing in the still morning air.  Toris glanced back at the house, sure the racket was bound to bring someone outside.  None emerged.

A car appeared at the end of Tschaikowskistrasse.  The yellowing color of spoiled milk, it rattled toward the guest house gate.

Gilbert pulled up, grinning from the driver’s side window.

“What took so long?” Toris hissed.

“I had to make a pit stop,” Gilbert said, motioning at the back seat.  On it rested a case of beer.  “I doubt Ivan let you bring anything.”

Toris shook his head.  “It wouldn’t have been good anyway.”

“Trust me, this is not my best work either.  Are you gettin’ in or what?”

The engine gave a loud clank.

“Is it…safe?”

“Only the GDR’s very best,” Gilbert smirked, thumping a hand on the side of the car.

Toris opened the door and slid in, wincing as his knees knocked into the dashboard.  He and Gilbert sat shoulder to shoulder in the tiny, two door coupe.

Again Toris looked at the house, his gut churning with excitement and nerves.  

“Everything okay?” Gilbert asked.

“Yeah – no.  Fine.  It’s fine. Could we just go already?”

Gilbert shifted the car into gear. “You didn’t clear it with him, did you?”

“I shouldn’t have to,” Toris muttered.

“You want a beer?”

Toris reached in the back, popping the top off a pilsner as the car drove from the guest house.

“I miss that farmhouse ale you used to make,” Gilbert said.

“…So do I.”

.

.

.

Notes:

The title is in reference to the Bruce Springsteen song “Glory Days”

Waldsiedlung was the secure housing zone for leaders of the GDR.  Nicknamed Wandlitz for the village nearby, the people of East Germany had no idea it existed or what luxuries their leaders lived in.  It was surrounded by a fence proclaiming it to be a wildlife research facility.  There was an interior wall beyond that.  The community had, among other things, a cinema, restaurant, and department store that specialized in selling western goods.  It was guarded by the paramilitary unit of the Stasi (East German secret police).

The official guest house of the GDR was called Niederschoenhausen.  Located in the Pankow district of East Berlin, it was the former Baroque palace of Schoenhausen.

Gil’s car is of course a Trabi (Trabant)

Lithuanian farm house ale - there’s a great beer brewing tradition in Lithuania that, until recently, has largely gone unnoticed by the rest of the world.  During Soviet occupation, beer, like everything else, was heavily relegated and home brewing was outlawed.