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sumsebien · 3 years

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by design pt. 3// Prince Friedrich

series masterlist

summary: friedrich and y/n’s arrival in prussia! ft. frederica ;))

word count: 4.7k

warnings: none

a/n: apologies for the long wait darlings. here she is though. and she is a long one. also a side note for those who love symbolism as much as i do 💐 ;) also, my banabaer @milkbaer this one is for u baby. thank you for all of your help!!!

a german lesson: Gänschen means goose🦆 (that’s a duck but we can pretend) and schloss means palace/chateau/mansion

The massive railway station stood proudly as the gateway to Potsdam, located right where the forest met the city. Three archways made of worn bricks welcomed old friends and strangers alike. There was something in the slightly tinted mossy green that offered you an odd sense of home. Like you had been here before.

Friedrich stood next to you near the exit. You had had breakfast together, then got ready separately before meeting each other again here.

“I had a lot of memories with this train station,” Friedrich said as the train finally passed the great archway.

You didn’t realize that you had been holding your breath the entire time, waiting for the wheels to come to full stop. You had been storing information from Lea and Ilse about Friedrich’s mother all morning. Anything that might help you strike up a decent conversation with her from her favorite flowers (gardenias) to her pets (a schnauzer named Fifi). Since then, you had been a little preoccupied by your own imaginations of her as a mother.

From the way Friedrich talked about her, your first guess was that they were extremely like-minded. Aside from that, there was the fact that she was a Queen to consider. She obviously must be extremely elegant and poised. Even her dog sounded posh-Fifi the Schnauzer...

You were still listening to Friedrich though, just not closely. “Really?” you asked, your eyes following the platform numbers as they passed by.

He nodded proudly. “I ran here from the Palace and caught the train to Berlin for a boxing match.”

You laughed, now entirely engaged in imagining little Friedrich fleeing from his guards. “And how old were you?”

“Thirteen. I skipped a dancing lesson.”

“Shame. You could have become a ballerina and outdone my stunts at your Christmas party.”

“Who’s to say that I did not? There are still many shocking things that you don’t know.” His plan to distract you from your own nerves had worked wonderfully well. You two continued to discuss his boxing match up until you were escorted out of the station.

There, you were greeted by a great spectacle of carriages and a horse parade. Everywhere you looked there were men in uniforms. They were on horses, in open top carriages, on the streets, all waiting for you and Friedrich.

Back in London, your family frequently had two to three carriages to accompany you to social functions. It was already considered excessive for the ton. You would have laughed at the idea of this. Or to be honest, wouldn’t have even been able to imagine having an entire parade to accompany you a couple of blocks down the street.

And of course, you could not forget the icing on the cake-the largest carriage you had ever seen. The one you saw in France could not compare and certainly not the one in England. This one was completely enveloped in gold from top to toe-or rather from roof to wheels. On the top of the roof, there were golden cherubs holding up an olive branch and flowers.

It was a harsh reminder that Friedrich, someone who you had grown to identify as your friend over the last several hours, was also the firstborn son of the King, heir apparent to the throne. And you were his wife. Whatever agreement you had made with each other in private was not valid in the public eye. Here, you were a Princess. The Princess.

As Friedrich watched you marvel in the magnificence of the royal parade, he turned to Heinrich with a last minute decision. Well last minute for his father and valet but not for him. Friedrich had wanted to visit his mother for ages.

“I’m heading to my mother’s. We’ll catch up with the staff afterwards and meet you at the Berlin Palace.”

All of this was not on the schedule his father had drawn out and Friedrich was well-aware. He had even cancelled the state train that Friedrich specifically ordered to Potsdam just to make sure he would not take you here first. But Friedrich was not one to lose.

At the same time, however, he knew that his valet was absolutely terrified of his father, as did most people. Soon enough, when his father found out that his son was not on the train to Berlin and was nowhere near the Royal Palace, he would definitely not be happy.

“But your Highness, we really must get going now or we won’t reach Berlin by noon.”

“If he asks, just blame it on me. I’ll be in and out in one hour.”

Heinrich didn’t say anything after that, just nodded. For that, Friedrich was thankful, he did not want to ruin this magical moment for you. It was not going to be this magical for long.

As Heinrich left with your staff, Friedrich turned back to you. “Y/N?”

“I-Is this for us?”

The look on your face made him laugh. Your jaws were grazing the floors, your eyes slowly sweeping across the scene then glanced at him and back to the carriages again.

“I believe it is,” he smiled, offering you his arm.

…

The entire ride back to the Palace was essentially just for you to fathom the welcome wagon.

You could barely string a sentence together, nodding along as Friedrich picked out places that he mentioned in his stories last night, especially enthusiastic about the candy shop he was never allowed to go in.

Potsdam was charming. You could certainly imagine a very fulfilling and peaceful existence here where it wasn't hectic like London but not entirely placid like the countryside.

Just when you thought you could not be more impressed, you arrived at Sanssouci Park.

When Ilse briefly mentioned it, you had expected a park. Like Hyde Park or Regent’s Park or the little garden behind your house that your parents insisted was a park. Whatever you had imagined, however, could not hold a candle to what it was in reality.

“Welcome to Sanssouci Park,” Friedrich said casually, casting a brief look out the windows while your eyes were completely glued to the towering gates opening up for your parade to pass through.

The name was not meant to refer to a park. It was definitely not a park. It was a bloody forest. As you entered the road lined with dense trees, the temperature dropped slightly with the shade, effectively cooling you both from the outside in.

“This is what you call a park? Whatever do you two think of Hyde Park then? A child’s sandbox?”

Before he could answer, your attention was quickly captured by a glimpse of something magnificent as the carriage passed a gap between the tree trunks. You pointed towards the dash of yellow you’d seen. “Is that where your mother lives?”

Friedrich followed your gaze and promptly nodded. “That’s Sanssouci Schloss. Here is the back of it.” Just on cue, the carriage rounded the corner and headed towards the back of the Palace.

Your jaws were officially off now as your eyes feasted on the very picture of splendor.

From personal observations, people usually spent a great deal of time and fortune on making the fronts of their homes as extravagant as possible. It was all in the face, as they said. But not here. Here, even the rear side was grand.

There was a huge water fountain in the middle of the yard, the blue sky printed on the surface. Naturally, your eyes followed straight ahead, past the window behind Friedrich’s head towards the most elaborate set of marble stairs you’d ever seen. On either side were tall walls of hedges and rose bushes that covered the hillside.

“Can we walk up those steps?”

Friedrich turned to look at the steps and then back at you again.

It was not a steep hill. More of a gentle slope but exactly because of that, the steps were long and the landings were wide. Anyone in breeches would find it challenging enough as it was. But you were in a gown, in the sweltering July heat and you were volunteering to walk. “You can. People usually go straight to the entrance though. Are you certain you’d want to walk? It is a long way.”

You nodded, brushing off his concerns. All you cared about was the sight.

Per your request, the carriage stopped right before the grand stairs to Sanssouci Palace. You and Friedrich got out of the carriage.

From where you stood, you had to crane your neck up slightly to be able to see the Palace up the top. The strip of yellow you’d seen from afar turned out to be much more intricate than you’d expected. Beautiful white windows lined the yellow walls, right in the center was an oval shaped room with a cyan dome on top, perfectly aligned with the stairs. Even though it only had one story, its width certainly made up for its height, stretching across the hill.

As you walked ahead, Friedrich decided to stall a little bit. Memories of endless summer days spent on these lawns came flooding back.

He had missed this.

The last time he was here was the summer before he left for England. It was actually here that his aunt Charlotte came to visit with an invitation to Cambridge-the day that changed his life.

And now he was here with you. Someone he had dreaded to marry a mere few days before. Now a dear friend to him.

Straight in front of him, you were marching up the steps with admirable determination, your hands holding onto your skirt, lifting it off the ground. With sun on your skin and wind in your hair, you laughed and told him to hurry up. For that split second, he wished he was not just your friend. Though he discarded that thought as quickly as it came, it stayed stuck in the back of his mind as he matched your pace.

“These are a lot of steps,” you remarked after the first flight of stairs was behind you. There were at least five more ahead. The excessively wide spaces between each step did not help with the general morale either.

“I did warn you,” he chuckled. “It was too exhausting a trip that Marie Antoinette rode a horse up these steps after her stroll in the garden.”

You paused for a moment.

Friedrich thought you were imagining the French queen trotting up the steps with her stallion. But as it turned out, he was wrong.

“Did he invite her over during one of the military clashes between Prussia and France?”

To say that Friedrich did not expect that was an understatement. You had told him you read but he never asked for the specifics on what exactly you were interested in. At that moment, he simply thought you’d be interested in a made-up tale to forget about the stairs. He did not think for a moment you’d be interested in foreign conflicts enough to know the feud between Prussia and France. He knew he certainly wasn’t as a student.

“You can’t fool me. I know,” you said, laughing at the shock on his face.

Pleasantly impressed, he remarked, “Full of surprises I see.”

“You’ll see that in this friendship,” you motioned between yourselves, “you’re not the only one who can shock.”

He gave you a nod, lowering his eyes and watched his steps before he murmured to himself. “Friendship, yes.” He reminded himself of how grateful he was to be your friend. And that maybe pining over you for the rest of his life was better than having you hate him.

If there was one thing for certain, it was that you two would not repeat his parents’ mistakes.

“Darling!”

The voice caused Friedrich’s eyes to snap upwards, slightly alarmed as they weren’t expected on this side of the Palace. Everyone was supposed to be at the front.

The first thing he saw was that you had stopped as well, only standing two steps above him. And then, on the top flight, he saw his mother, waving at him. She wasn’t supposed to greet them outside. At the same time though, he wouldn’t expect her to wait that long for anything anyways.

He waved back with a laugh. She hadn’t changed one bit since the last time he saw her nearly a year ago. A straw sunhat on top of her head, a basket of flower and gardening tools in her hand.

“I-is that-“

Friedrich nodded. “Yes, that’s her. That’s my Mama.”

The nervous jitters came back to you. You knew how much his mother meant to him. She was the true hero of his childhood and you were just excited to meet her. However, you also knew that in no way was this arrangement made by her. And no matter how friendly you were with Friedrich, as his mother, she would not easily trust you.

You quickly masked your nervousness with a gentle smile. It was the safest route after all. Better look like a smiley fool than a grumpy idiot. You thought.

The Queen began to walk down the steps briskly, meeting you halfway up the last flight of stairs. Immediately, she threw her arms around Friedrich, pulling him into a bear hug. “There you are, you Gänschen! You’ve kept your mother waiting long enough!” She said, messing up his hair and only letting go of him once he was shaking with laughter.

When he and your maids said she was very carefree in private, you did not expect her to be this carefree. A lady was not supposed to be out in the sun like this, no less a queen. She was also much more beautiful than you could ever imagine, with her honey blonde curls tumbling down her back in waves and her big blue eyes which were now on you.

“Apologies, Mama,” he stepped back, allowing you to take a step forward. “This is Y/N, my wife. And Y/N, this is my Mama.”

“It is such an honor to meet you, your Majesty,” you said, bending your knees into a curtsy, praying you wouldn’t stumble backwards and ruin the first impression.

You had an overwhelming want for her to like you. And you felt like this first meeting was of paramount importance in deciding that. If it did not go well, she would never see you as anything more than a girl her son was forced to marry. And that was terrifying even in the case where Friedrich remained a good friend.

You were not wrong. Frederica did not expect much from a match made by Louis, a man who clearly did not know his own son or even cared to try. Assuming he did know his son, it would not even be of any matter at all. The only thing he had ever cared about was grooming an heir. This arrangement, no doubt, served that.

But Frederica could not ignore the large smile on her son’s face as he ascended the steps with this young lady.

That? That was not by design.

Frederica shook her head and offered you her hand to help you stand up straight. “I prefer Frederica. At least when we are not in court.”

She gave you a cheeky wink and plucked a gardenia from her basket, tucking it by your ear. “Come on now! I am sure it has been a long trip for the both of you. Let us have some tea before you go.”

...

Frederica led the both of you into the Palace through the doors into the oval room. Inside it was just as spectacular as its exterior. Tall columns held up the painted dome where a chandelier was hung. The three arched windows looking out to the gardens were pushed open by three footmen, allowing sunlight and fresh air to gush into the space, lightening up the entire room.

“Please have a seat, dears,” Frederica said, gesturing to the rounded table in the middle of the room.

You were still too in awe to be able to settle down calmly in your seat but obeyed her anyways. Beside you, Friedrich was glancing around the room, like he was in search of something.

“Is Fifi not here?” he asked as a butler approached the table with a cake stand.

Just on cue, Fifi-his mother’s Schnauzer, shot through the doors. You nearly gasped out of sheer excitement when you saw the ball of salt and pepper fur fly into the room like an arrow. You had always shared a fondness for dogs. Yet you never had one. The only dogs you had were your father’s hunting hounds and he made sure you remained far away from them.

“Speak of the devil...” Friedrich turned to you, “this is Fifi, hated by most but very loved by my mother. Mostly because she smells like fish.”

He kept his eyes on the dog as she strolled around, heading in your direction and getting alarmingly close. “Fifi!” he said, shooing her off. The dog didn’t care, just kept on going forward.

“Oh, it’s quite alright! I love dogs,” you said, fighting the urge to pet Fifi who was quietly sniffing at the hem of your skirt.

Frederica was absolutely surprised when she saw her Schnauzer so quiet. Her dog was not friendly with strangers. By this time there should have been an accident.

The delayed accident happened right after that. Fifi bit down on your dress, tugging at it playfully.

More surprising, however, you didn’t seem scared of the feisty little old thing either. You just laughed.

“Fifi! Leave the poor girl alone!” Frederica said, tapping her shoes against the floor.

Friedrich quickly leaned forward and picked her up. Being lifted off the ground, she released your skirt and focused on wiggling out of Friedrich’s grasps instead. When she eventually succeeded, Fifi headed back to you, circling your feet, her tail wagging.

Friedrich clicked his tongue, about to bend over again to shoo Fifi off. Not that she would care. But the dog plopped down between your chair and his mother’s, out of Friedrich’s reach.

She looked up at you with big eyes, begging for a pet, which you were happy to provide. You reached down and scratched her ears. It was all rather brave, if he must admit.

“I know it is hard to believe but she seems fond of you,” Frederica mused, seeing Fifi transform into a whole other dog under your touch. She was not usually this sweet.

Friedrich scoffed. “The devil almost ripped her skirt off,” he gestured to the hem of your dress, and glared at Fifi.

“It’s fine, honestly. I think it was a compliment if anything,” you said with a smile.

He sighed. “Don’t defend the perpetrator! She has a terrible temperament. And you know it,” he turned to his mother.

“Fifi does. as much as I love her,” Frederica nodded. Fifi’s ears perked up at the mention of her name, blinking at her owner. “But you seem like a very experienced animal whisperer.”

“No, actually. I never had one.”

“Well, that’s a shame. You’re great with Fifi. And if you can handle her, you can handle any dog.”

“Any dog is better than Fifi,” Friedrich said under his breath. Nevertheless, he was glad to see the two of you bond. Even if it was over Fifi the Ferocious.

On the bright side, at least she wasn’t coming back with them to Berlin. It was the only thing Friedrich and his father had ever had in common-a dislike for the Schnauzer.

...

Heinrich was being escorted into the Palace towards the audience room. A place he would much prefer not to go to on his own. He had arrived for over an hour and still you two were nowhere to be found and it was only for so long he could hide the train of carriages. Eventually, one of the butlers alerted the King of his presence and he was immediately requested inside.

Heinrich had suspected that you would arrive slightly late. He just didn’t think it could be this late. He had no idea what he was supposed to say. One misstep and off with his head.

When the doors to the room were swung open, the King was throwing a fit. His deafening yell rang across the room and bounced against the tall walls. It certainly did not help with the nerves.

“WHERE IS MY HORSE?” he demanded, rising up from the throne. From where he stood, he towered over the poor footman. “I am late for hunting!”

“Your Majesty, you cancelled today’s hunt.”

“And why on earth would I do that?”

Heinrich kept quiet, remaining invisible as he approached the throne behind the butler. He was not about to be caught in the middle of a crossfire during one of the King’s fits.

The footman blinked. Heinrich could see the man debating whether or not to answer, lest it was a rhetorical question.

“B-because the Prince is back from England, sir?”

“Oh,” the King said. His voice quieter than before and sat back down again. The crease between his Majesty’s eyebrows disappeared, his expressions softening slightly. Then he turned to the footman with a quizzical look. “And where is the Prince?”

The footman turned around and met Heinrich’s eyes. And then the King followed his gaze. So much for not wanting to be caught in the crossfire.

“I-“ Heinrich began, his mind drawing a blank.

If he were to tell the truth, Friedrich and you would no doubt be in trouble. However, if he didn’t tell the truth, he’d be in trouble and so would you two. And if he just said he didn’t know, he’d be on the first ship to an island far far away.

“Well?” The King barked.

“I’ll go get them, your Majesty!”

“Don’t just stand there. Hurry along then! Before I chop all of your heads off.”

Heinrich had never walked so fast out of a room his entire life. His heart was pounding as it began to dawn on him that he had just lied to the King. Well, it was not exactly a lie. He was going to get them. They just weren’t here yet. Unfortunately, none of that mattered. There was no reasoning with such a powerful man. All he could do was hope that he would still be alive to see another day.

Just when all of his luck appeared to have run out, he heard the distinct sound of hooves against cobble and rushed outside.

Friedrich helped you out of the carriage, still engaged in the never-ending tales of Fifi the Ferocious. You were laughing when you caught sight of the magnificent Royal Palace-Berliner Schloss. It was much boxier than Sanssouci Schloss with towering walls that casted a great shadow over the front lawn.

Household staff lined the steps on either side, straightening up as Heinrich dashed past them. Some had their heads turned, the younger ones especially, their curious eyes on you, trying to catch a glimpse of the new Princess. The more seasoned staff near the top stayed perfectly still, resisting the urge to look anywhere other than straight ahead.

“Your Highnesses!” He said, bowing so quickly you were worried his head might snap off. “Your presences are requested. Immediately!”

...

Through the doors you could faintly hear your titles being announced. Your palms were clammy so you hid it behind you, focusing on what you might say in a couple of moments.

Friedrich was not nervous, of course.

He was the one who planned the detour in the first place. And while you had enjoyed the time with Frederica very much, perhaps a little too much, it had delayed your schedule by well over a couple of hours. It meant that you made the King of Prussia, your father-in-law wait.

The only person more nervous than you was probably Heinrich. Every time you caught a glimpse of his face, he seemed more haggard than the last. You were not certain whether he was really sick or just worried.

"My father will say things. Things that are aimed to test you. Do not mind any of it," Friedrich said quietly.

"Something tells me I should take that as a suggestion. One look at Heinrich and I know what I am in for."

Friedrich sneaked a glance at his valet and gave you a small smile. "Heinrich has always been that way. Worries a little too much."

"Maybe that is for good reason-"

The trumpets sounded, prompting you to straighten up, smooth your dress and put on a smile. In the corner of your eyes, you could see Friedrich cracking up. Had it not been for the fact that you were being presented right then, you would have given him a slipper to the chest. He was still smiling up until you had to walk through the doors.

Then, his demeanor shifted completely. You did not dare to make eye contact with the King. All you saw was brief glimpses of a man, wearing a red cloak on the throne. But Friedrich, he was looking straight down the room, challenging his father.

From the stories he had told you, you knew that Friedrich had a rough relationship with his father. Once he got a chance to break away, he vowed he would allow his father to have full control of his life again. And from the suffocating tension in the air, you knew his father would not make it easy.

“The Prince and Princess of Prussia, your Majesty,” a footman announced.

"Your Majesty," you said, giving the King a curtsy.

"Welcome, welcome. I hope the journey was not too rough for you.”

You smiled and nodded. Not a bad start.

However, it was a completely different story when you saw Friedrich’s face. He raised his eyebrows, clearly unconvinced by his father’s concern. "You do, father? Wasn’t it on your orders that the state train never arrived?”

“Now, now, Friedrich. That was none of my doing.” The King turned to you with a small smile. “I must say, you are much prettier than I expected, my lady.”

He had made such an effort to emphasize the last two words that even if you weren’t listening, you still would have caught them. The King was smirking on his throne, his icy eyes sending chills down your back.

“I believe it’s your Highness, father.”

This row was your fault. You could tell.

“No, I don’t think it is. You didn’t get married.”

“We did.”

“That did not count.”

“How? Because you weren’t invited?”

“I see all of your manners have gone out the door since you stepped foot out of this country.”

Friedrich wanted to scoff. It was always going to be about England. If they were going to have this conversation, he was going to do it properly. But not in front of you.

He turned to Heinrich. “Take the Princess to see the chambers.”

You didn’t want to leave. You were responsible for this in one way or another. You should be here to take the blame. But Friedrich shook his head like he knew what you were about to say. “Come with Heinrich. I’ll meet you later.”

“No need for that. Lady Brandt, your chief lady-in-waiting, will take you for a tour. Bernadine?”

You remembered Lea and Ilse mentioning her as well. However, at that time, she didn’t have a name or a face for you to attach her to just yet. You just knew that she was going to be in charge of all of your affairs like Heinrich was doing for Friedrich. Now she had a name and a face.

At the mention of her name, she nodded and stepped forward from the line of staff on your right. She was dressed in a blood red dress, a strand of pearls wrapped around her long neck. She came towards you, giving you an impressive curtsy, tipping her head forward slowly yet keeping her hat perfectly still on her dark raven hair.

When she looked up, you were finally able to see her striking hollow eyes, tall cheekbones and an ever so slightly upturned corner of her lips. She looked awfully familiar. Like a much younger version of your mother actually. And she was just as terrifying.

“Come with me, your Highness.”

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jocia92 · 3 years

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(Google translated)

Dan Stevens, who grew up in Wales and south-east England, spent his summer holidays at the National Youth Theater at the age of 15, and he was drawn to the stage while studying English in Cambridge. Since his big breakthrough as Matthew Crawley in the hit series “Downton Abbey”, he has also repeatedly appeared in films such as “Inside Wikileaks - The Fifth Force”, “At Night in the Museum: The Secret Tomb” or “Beauty and the Beast” . Most recently, Stevens played the Russian Schnösel singer Lemtov in the Oscar-nominated comedy “Eurovision Song Contest: The Story of Fire Saga” from Netflix. At the beginning of June, the German film “Ich bin dein Mensch” by Maria Schrader celebrated at the Summer Berlinale Premiere, which starts on 1.7. comes to German cinemas regularly. Stevens plays the role of a love robot in it. Unlike on the screen, however, the 38-year-old prefers to speak English in the zoom-conducted interview. He chose a brick wall with a lion motif as the digital background. No allusion to the song “Lion of Love” from “Eurovision Song Contest”, but a photo of the famous Ishtar Gate in Berlin’s Pergamon Museum, where “I am your human” was filmed last summer.

Mr. Stevens, in your new film “I am your human” you play a humanoid robot that is entirely geared towards fulfilling the romantic needs of a skeptical scientist. You yourself recently described the film as “delightfully German”. How did you mean that?

I wanted to say that here pretty big questions - such as what actually makes a person or how much perfection love can take - are negotiated in a very light-footed, elegant and sometimes humorous way. In my experience that is a very German quality. At least I have often seen with many of my German colleagues and friends that they are very good at not discussing difficult issues exclusively deadly serious and melancholy.

Where does your personal connection to Germany and the German language come from?

My parents had friends who lived in Bielefeld and we used to visit them in North Rhine-Westphalia during the school holidays. Traveled from England by car! That’s how I learned a little German as a child, and later I learned it as a subject at school. I even did a short internship there through our friends in Bielefeld. I really love the language. Funnily enough, I was later able to use my knowledge of German professionally, because my first film was “Hilde”, in which I was next to Heike Makatsch played the British actor and director David Cameron, who was married to Hildegard Knef. After that, I always hoped that there might be another chance to speak German in front of the camera, because playing in a foreign language is an exciting challenge. When the chance arose to shoot “I am your person”, I could hardly believe my luck.

Did you know the director Maria Schrader who gave you this chance?

Funnily enough, when the script for the film landed on my table, I had just watched the Netflix series “Unorthodox”, which she directed. I had also watched a few episodes of “Deutschland 89”. In general, I knew that she was a great German actress, not least because friends who knew their way around the German theater scene often raved about her. Working with her was a joy now. Her understanding of actors is quite instinctive and brilliant. I have seldom seen someone who can help an actor who is having difficulties with a scene with such simple means.

The fact that you had already seen “Unorthodox” shows, of course, how quickly “I am your person” must have been implemented in the past year …

Oh yes, that was really quick. In March I was still in New York and was about to premiere a new play on Broadway. But then the pandemic came, everything was canceled and I flew back to my family in Los Angeles. A few weeks later, Maria and I met each other via Zoom - and shortly afterwards I was sitting outside in a café in the Berlin June sun for the first time in months to discuss the upcoming shoot with her. That was pretty surreal because I hadn’t actually left the house since March.

Is it correct that you oriented yourself to Cary Grant and Jimmy Stewart to portray the romantically programmed robot Tom?

In any case, these were role models that Maria and I spoke about. When you think of the game between the two of them, you always see an enormous clarity and directness. Cary Grant, for example, was always quite funny, especially in his romantic roles, but also flawless in an almost artificial way from today’s perspective. I found that very suitable for a robot. Apart from the fact that the ideas that Tom and his algorithm have of romance and love are certainly also shaped by the classic romantic comedies from Hollywood. Oh, the woman is sad, so I’ll bring her flowers! Such automatisms from the stories from back then were very appropriate for Tom now.

Keyword role models: Who shaped you in your career as an actor?

There were of course many. Jimmy Stewart was certainly something of a role model. My mom and I watched a lot of his films when I was little and I was always impressed by the kind of sweet tragedy that went into all of his roles. But maybe Robin Williams’ work influenced me even more. I always found the incredible variety of his films remarkable. He could make his audience laugh hysterically like no other, but also move them to tears in other roles. I always wanted to emulate this range.

In fact, the range of your roles is enormous and ranges from the Disney blockbuster “Beauty and the Beast” to a comic adaptation in series format such as “Legion” to bulky independent films such as “Her Smell” or the horror thriller “The Rental “, Which we just released on DVD. Is there a method behind this diversity?

Not in principle. I like variety, but I’m not just looking for roles that are as different as possible from one another. Rather, there are always similar factors that I use to select my projects. Sometimes there is a certain director that I really want to work with. Or the role itself is irresistible because it presents me with acting challenges. And sometimes a script is just fantastically written and I am interested in the topics it is about. With “I am your person” it was definitely the latter, especially since the timing was just right. In 2020 there were so many societal questions that ultimately touched the core of human existence. Such a script, which deals with something very similar in a light-footed way, was just fitting.

A few years ago you said in a questionnaire from the British Guardians that your greatest weakness was not being able to make up your mind. So every time you are offered a role, do you ponder whether you should accept?

No, no, when a script appeals to me, it actually does it very quickly. It’s such a gut feeling. If I’m unsure and skeptical, that’s a good indicator that this is not the right thing for me. That with the difficulty in making decisions related rather to something else. For example, it takes me forever to order in a restaurant because I can never decide what on the menu appeals to me the most.

You became famous with the role of Matthew Crawley in the series "Downton Abbey”. Did you immediately suspect at the time that something big was going on?

At first we were all pretty clueless. There are really many British history series, and we were one of them. When the first season aired in the US and was a huge success there, it was pretty unexpected. I never expected the impact the series would have on my career.

Barely ten years later, are you still being asked about the role?

Oh yes, regularly. Probably nothing will change about that either. I got out after three seasons!

In the meantime, however, the flamboyant Russian singer Alexander Lemtov from “Eurovision Song Contest: The Story of Fire Saga” should also be a character with whom you will be immediately associated, right?

Right, it has been mentioned more and more recently when people recognize me on the street. This charming, silly film obviously had a nerve with the audience last year in the middle of the corona pandemic. Especially since the real Eurovision Song Contest had been canceled.

The film was the number one topic of conversation on the Internet for a while - and Lemtov GIFs and memes were everywhere. Did you follow that?

It was really hard to avoid it. I wasn’t looking specifically for what people were posting. But of course my friends passed a lot on to me, and there were already some very funny Lemtov things. But he’s also a figure made for GIFs.

Another question every British actor under 40 has to put up with these days: Would you like to become the next James Bond?

Oh, of course, everyone gets to hear this question again and again who meets certain criteria. But it is completely hypothetical. Although a few years ago I read in an audio book by Ian Fleming’s “Casino Royale”.

You mentioned earlier that you and your family have lived in the United States for a long time. How big is your homesickness?

I actually feel very comfortable in Los Angeles. But every now and then I miss the sidewalk culture of European cities. People on foot, street cafes, things like that. Last year the longing for it was particularly great, although it was of course clear to me that there was a state of emergency in Europe too. In any case, I found myself reading books that were set in Europe and made me homesick. Which is why the unexpected trip to Berlin was really a boon.

You are also an avid cricketer. That’s certainly difficult in Los Angeles, isn’t it?

There are quite a few cricket clubs here. The only problem is that the few people who do the sport here are so good at it that I have problems keeping up. That’s why I always lose sight of the matter here a little. Even as a pure TV viewer, it is not easy to stay on the ball, because of course there is no cricket broadcast here at prime time. But as soon as I’m home in England in the summer, I really want to play again!

#ich bin dein mensch #i'm your man #dan stevens #maria schrader #faz.net #interview #long post

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writingmyanxietyaway · 4 years

Text

Doctor Love | Berlin

Requested by anon: So okay okay, I had this idea a few days ago, and since your requests are open I'm gonna slide in real quick :)is it okay if I request a little scenario where like, u know when Berlino does that dumb thing of self sacrificing becuz he's gonna die anyway? What if his girlfriend/reader has been searching for a cure for his illness and before he can get himself killed she goes in the bank and tells him and somehow they manage to escape from the bank? No pressure if the idea doesn't appeal u! Ily!!

Word count: 2.4k

Warning: spoilers of season 2! maybe swearing, mentions of violence, guns, the whole shabang

Note: not my gif! Okay, so I’m in love with this request!! It took me a little longer to write, because I wanted to get it perfect. Let me just say I’m not a doctor, so I have no idea if there is a cure for the illness he has, but Imma try! Hope you like it darling! Thanks for the request and love you too! xx

------------

‘I’m sick. I have an illness called Helmer’s myopathy. It’s a muscle degenerative disease, which means that my muscles get weaker and weaker until my heart muscles can’t keep up anymore. If I’m lucky I have four months left,’ he told you like it was nothing; like it was answer to a question on a pubquiz. He held your hands in his, knowing it would break your heart and dreams of a future with him.

‘Andrés..’ you whispered, ‘why didn’t you tell me sooner?’ He sighed and gently shook his head.

‘It’s uncurable, princess. I have medicine that I have to take every few hours that make it somewhat acceptable, but I wanted you to know.’

You visibly broke down. Even though you were always someone who never wanted to show any emotion besides happiness and anger, but this was different shit. Your hands were shaking, body trembing as you tried to understand that everything you had imagined yourself doing with Andrés would be nothing more than a dream. It simply didn’t make sence. Being together with Andrés for more than six months, you’d hoped he would be more open towards you and share what was going on with him. You felt your throat closing up, eyes filling with tears.

This illness was just the cherry on top for him. The man had done terrible things in his life and could mark off just about any sin in the Bible. Stealing, robbing, charming women. Karma was getting her way back to him and all he could do was accept his fate. It came across as cold to you. All this time you planned this whole life for you two together, but he knew that would never come true.

‘No! This is cruel! You let me believe we would be together for the rest of our lives, hell, you told me you wanted to marry me when you got out! You knew even if you made it out alive, you wouldn’t live longer than summer. You’ve done some terrible things in your life Andrés, but this..’ you exclaimed, throwing your hands in the air. ‘This is just rude.’

The sadness you felt quickly turned into anger as you kept yelling at him, hitting him in the chest. He knew better than to interrupt you and tell you that everything would be okay, because he just now realized it wouldn’t be okay. He would die and leave you behind. Period.

‘I knew you were a self-centred bastard! You always play these mind games and somehow make everyone get on their knees for you! Is that all I am to you, huh?! Some game to find how far you can go? Because let me tell you Andrés, this game is finished. Game. Over,’ you hissed. You threw your hands up in the air and stormed out.

That was more than four weeks ago. In the meantime you had spoken again and this time the anger had disappeared and just cried. That was all you could do. You had accepted that you would most likely be a widdow before summer and that broke your heart, but you also wanted to fight. Andrés told you there was no cure to his illness, but there was hope burning inside you and you did everything in your power to still find that cure. Whether it meant getting no sleep for the next few weeks or not.

Andrés would soon be leaving for the big robbery and you had spent every second of the day being with him and holding him close. The times where you would have rough sex the entire day were over; it was now making love. He was gentle to you, making you breakfast in bed even though he could easily ask one of the maids to do it and even buying you nice dresses in colours that matched your eyes.

Without him knowing, you contacted one of your best friends who worked at the lab of a university and asked him if he could do more research on medicine for muscle-related illnesses. He said he had some information that he wanted to share with you, but that meant you had to visit him.

‘Babe, I’m gonna have to run to Macy really quickly. Think you’ll be okay?’ you asked. Macy was your sister and seven months pregnant, so it often happened that you visited her to help her with something. That way he wouldn’t suspect a thing. You had no idea how he did it, but he always seemed to know what you were up to.

‘Of course, princess. Give her a kiss for me, okay?’ he winked, giving you a kiss on the lips. You lightly slapped his chest.

‘Be back for dinner,’ you told him. Out of the blue, he grabbed you by your waist and pulled you against him. He leaned down and you could feel his breath on your neck. Shivers send down your spine.

‘Your ass looks great in those jeans,’ he whispered, placing a light kiss on your neck and slapping you on the bottom. You giggled and pushed yourself away from him.

‘Bye!’ you called, waving him goodbye and walking out the door. You soon arrived at the university and was met by your friend who was waiting for you outside. You greeted each other with a hug and quickly got to work. He told you about the compositions of the different medications and what effect they had on what part of the muscle.

‘Isn’t there any way we could find a way to make this medicine last longer? This is the medication he uses now to keep it under control for a few hours,’ you gave him a syringe filled with the medicine and he studied it. He took the bottle from you and studied it contents.

‘There are some elements of this medicine that also appear in this,’ he pointed to a beaker filled with a milky white liquid. ‘I should be able to find a connection that makes this last longer.’

‘Is there anything I can do? I feel so hopeless not being able to do anything,’ you mumbled.

‘You did a great job already by giving me this. Is it okay if I keep the syringe? I need something that we know works, even if it isn’t permanent,’ he said. You nodded and waved your hand.

‘Of course. Anything to help find a cure. Thank you for doing this. I can’t even explain how much this means to me. I don’t know what I would’ve done if I hadn’t at least tried,’ you told him. He turned to look at you and gave you a hug.

‘That’s what I’m here for. If I find anything, I’ll let you know, okay?’

It was the fifth day of the heist. Andrés had been gone for almost three weeks now, being busy with training and all. He obviously knew about the plan already, but being the passionate man he is, wanted to go over every single detail again. He couldn’t afford making any mistakes. The goodbye was hard. You cried loudly as he held you close, whispering little reasuring words in your ear. You were thankful for Sergio. He kept you updated on everything that was going on, but didn’t tell you any details or steps of the plan. You didn’t want to either; it was scary enough without knowing how everything went down in there.

It was now wednesday and you were sitting on the couch. You hadn’t heard from Sergio in two days and it started to worry you. The news wasn’t exactly uplifting too. Andrés’ face was displayed all over every tv channel, name heard on every radio station and seen on every wall in Spain. Your heart fell even lower when the news announced he was sick. The smug inspector worked on you nerves as she spoke about him like he was an animal. Sure, the man had done things that broke the law, but he never killed anyone nor hurt any woman.

‘Fuck,’ you cursed under your breath. Suddenly your phone rang and the called ID showed Alex, your friend at the lab. Your heartbeat increased and you were anxious about what he was about to say. You picked up the phone and heard his loud voice. A tearful smile made it’s way on your face as you heard him say those three words you so desperately longed to hear.

‘I have it! I have the cure!’ he yelled. You jumped up and raced towards the university where he was already waiting on you. The hug you shared was one filled with hapiness.

‘Okay, he needs to inject this like he did with the other medicine. This is enough to last until november. I have some of it still in the lab so I produce more and work more on the duration of it. I can’t promise it will work for the rest of his life, but for now it’ll do,’ he spoke. You said goodbye and rushed to Sergio’s hide-out. The medicine you held in your hands would give him at least eight more months and until then Alex had a better cure. You burst through the doors and Sergio jumped up. You could see the whole that had been dug in the floor. You turned to Sergio and burst into tears of joy.

‘He’s not leaving us, Sergio. He’s staying. With you, with me. He’s staying,’ you rushed. Your heart was beating loudly in your ears and the rush of adrenaline was so high, you thought you’d pass out. Your words seemed to land as he slowly moved towards you. His gaze fell on the little box you were holding and his eyes flickered from the black object to the hole in the floor and tears welled in his eyes.

‘I have to get it to him, Sergio. He needs to know there is something out here for him. You and I both you the man is up to something. Let me go in there, please!’ you pleaded. He quickly snapped out his trance and gave you a red suit and black boots to finish the look.

‘When you get to the indside, wait inside the vault. No one knows you’re getting in and that way you won’t get attacked. Take this with you,’ he pushed a fake gun in your hands and you placed it in the holster on your thigh. ‘Goodluck.’

When you were about to enter, you heard a lot of noise coming from the computer. The police had broken in. He nodded to you and you ran as quickly as you could through the tunnel. When you entered the vault, you were met by two people. A young man with dark hair and a woman with blonde curls. They looked suprised to see you and the man pointed a gun at you.

‘Serg- El Professor send me. I’m Berlin’s girl,’ you quickly said, stumbling over your words. Sure, you were carrying a gun with you, but it was a fake. Having a real gun pointed at you made you nearly shit your pants. When the girl pointed out I was carrying a gun and came through the only way out, he lowered the gun and craweled through the tunnel. It wasn’t hard to find Berlin as he came running in the direction of where you were coming from. You caught the stares of the other people who nodded at you and went on with their duties.

‘Berlin, babe!’ you called, making him freeze.

‘What are you doing here, princess? It’s not safe for you. They’ll come running through those halls any minute now,’ he sternly said, turning around and grabbing you firmly by the arm. ‘Leave, now!’

‘No, I’m not leaving. I came here to tell you I found a cure,’ you breathed and everyone around you froze. ‘You didn’t know, but I’ve been doing research for a medicine and I’ve found it. The first dose should work ‘till November. After that I’ll have a much stronger and longer working dose.’

‘Princess, I told you to leave,’ he said more firmly this time. You didn’t move.

‘Like I said, I’m not leaving. Not without you anyway. You promised me a life that I could only dream of and now we can have it. I love you with all my heart. I can’t loose you. Not now, not ever.’ Tears cascaded down your cheeks as you begged the man you loved so much to trust you and come with you.

‘Leave, now. Helsinki, take her with you,’ he ordered the bulky man behind you, but he didn’t move.

‘Love is a passionate thing, Berlin. I don’t know this woman, but she found a cure for your uncurable disease. That’s literally doing the impossible. You have five seconds to decide to leave with this woman or I’ll take you with me. Don’t look away when you have everything in front of you,’ he spoke. He turned his attention to you and you gave him a grateful smile. He smiled back and nodded.

‘Will you please come with me? If you don’t come with me, I’ll stay with you. I either die with you or leave with you, you decide,’ you stated. He looked at the box you held in your hand and realized how much he loved you. Moving towards you, he passionately smashed his lips to yours. The kiss wasn’t filled with lust, but relief and gratefulness.

‘As soon as we walk out those doors, I’m marrying you. No exceptions,’ he mumbled against your lips. You nodded and held him closer.

‘That was the plan.’

You heard the policemen run behind you and Helsinki was quick to throw a grenade. Berlin pushed you all inside and bowed your head in his chest. Once the grenade had exploded, you all rushed back and blew up the tunnel. You joined Sergio and Helsinki in the back of the truck, leaning against Andrés.

‘There are no words to explain how much I love you, princess. No words.’

The two of you left to Cuba, where you got married soon after you arrived. The wedding was on the beach, your white dress flowing around you while you stared at the man you could finally call your husband. Only a month after the wedding you surprised Andrés by telling you were pregnant.

‘You are my heart, my soul and my everything. Thank you for being my wife and everything I’ve ever wished for.’

.. .. .. .. ..

Berlin Taglist

@nkjktk - @michaellangdonenthusiast - @hamiltonsofcrap

#la casa de papel #lcdp imagine #berlin x reader #berlin imagine #pedro alonso #lcdp x reader #lcdp

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underthewingsofthblackeagle · 4 years

Photo

Foto: Panorama Helsinki / Finland - Dom und Parlamentsplatz (by tap5a)

“We only do this for Fergus!” is a short Outlander Fan Fiction story and my contribution to the Outlander Prompt Exchange (Prompt 3: Fake Relationship AU: Jamie Fraser wants to formally adopt his foster son Fergus, but his application will probably not be approved… unless he is married and/or in a committed relationship. Enter one Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp (Randall?) to this story) @outlanderpromptexchange

Chapter 4: A Good Father

The next morning, Fraser and Fergus looked up in amazement and delight as Claire joined them for breakfast. Normally, "the men" had breakfast alone on Saturday and Sunday mornings because they were early risers and Claire liked to sleep in on her days off. After breakfast, Claire asked Fraser if he had ten minutes for a private conversation. She had just made her request when Fergus looked up in horror. Then he looked at his father angrily:

"Papa, what happened last night?"

Fraser and Claire looked at each other in surprise, then replied, as if from one mouth:

"Nothing!"

Fergus, who had slipped from his chair in the meantime, ran to Claire, who was sitting on the other side of the table, and held his arms out to her. Claire lifted him onto her lap.

"Claire, you're not going to leave us, are you? You're not, how do you say, quiddeling?"

"Quit, Fergus, that's quitting. No, I'm not quitting."

"Then why do you want to talk to Papa? On a Sunday morning?"

Claire pulled the boy's head to her chest. Without realizing it, she slowly began to move her body back and forth as if to lull him to sleep.

"Fergus, your Papa hasn't done anything wrong and I'm not going to quit. I have to discuss something with your Papa, business stuff, boring stuff. Meanwhile, you can go upstairs, wash your face, brush your teeth and put your clothes on."

"Breakfast" by marijana1

The little curly head nodded.

"I am so looking forward to spring and summer, Claire."

"So, can you tell me why?"

"Because when it gets warm again, I'll play soccer with you again."

Claire laughed, then stroked Fergus over the head again and let him slide slowly to the ground. The boy immediately wanted to run out of the room, but Claire called him back again:

"Fergus!"

Astonished, the boy turned around. Claire pointed her head in the direction of Fraser:

"Fergus, your Papa loves you very much and he would never do anything to hurt or harm you.”

Fergus understood. Slowly, he walked over to Fraser, who stretched out his arms and lifted him onto his lap.

"Excuse me, Papa."

Jamie pressed the boy to his chest.

"Apology accepted."

They remained like that for a moment. Then Fraser went on:

"I would never do anything or want Claire to leave us. I'm happy that you're so good with her, that you get along so well. You have nothing to worry about. I do want you to be well, Fergus."

"Thanks, Papa."

Instead of an answer, Fraser kissed the child on the forehead and pressed him to his chest again. Then he put Fergus on the floor and said:

"Go now. Wash up and get dressed. Let's go to the museum village at Düppel."

"Museum Village Düppel" by Lienhard Schulz, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=305226

Fergus beamed and he could not help but ask:

"Claire, would you like to join us..."

"No, today is your day with your Papa. And for me today is my day off. I'll see you for tea or later for dinner."

Fergus nodded and surrendered to his fate. As he closed the door behind him, Fraser asked:

"Claire, what's on your mind? Have you seen the Sunday papers?"

"No, but I can imagine what they're writing."

Fraser reached for the chair next to him, where one of the Berlin Sunday newspapers was lying, and handed it to Claire.

"Berlin's new glamorous couple publicly declared their love"

was to be read there. And of course the corresponding pictures were also to be seen. One of these pictures had been moved into the center of the page and was framed by a kitschy big red heart.

Claire shook her head, closed the pages and returned the newspaper to Fraser.

"No, that's not why I want to talk to you. It’s about David Gehrmann and his girlfriend, Geillis Duncan."

Fraser looked at her in amazement.

"I've known Geillis for several years, and I've known David since they've been together, about four years."

Fraser didn't say a word, and kept looking at her questioningly.

"You will certainly wonder why I didn't tell you this last night. Or the moment we met them. I was so surprised and needed some time to process this. I didn't want to hide it from you."

"Okay, but what's the problem?"

"Geillis was the one who showed me your ad in the “Wirtschaftswoche” and urged me to apply for the job."

"Did she also work in the ...”

"No, she was an independent fashion consultant for many years ... in the higher-priced segment. But since she has been together with the 'rich Dave' ... she only does that now and then. She loves to have breakfast with a croissant, a strong coffee and a cigarette and to read some gossip magazines on the side. But she ran out of them and was ‘forced’ to look into the 'Wirtschaftswoche' that Dave had left on the breakfast table. She came to me very excited and showed me the job offer. Geillis knew that I had inherited some debts from my late husband and ... she said that with the three times my nurse's salary it would be able to pay them back faster. That same evening we put together my letter of application.

"But this is a good story. I must be very grateful to her friend for drawing your attention to the job offer. What's the problem?"

"The problem is that Geillis and I have been close for many years. She knows me better than perhaps anyone else. She sees through me when I try to lie to her and I expect she'll call me in the next few days with questions."

Fraser nodded.

"I see."

For a moment they were silent.

"What could we do to convince her friend? Do you have an idea?" Fraser then asked.

"I don't know. All I know is I don't want to face her questions... alone right now."

Fraser nodded again.

"What do you say we invite Geillis and Dave for dinner and give them the home story the tabloids want us to do?

"That would certainly be one way..."

Claire didn't seem to be sure and suddenly there were some soft knocks at the door. They both knew that this would be Fergus and that this was the end of the time when they could talk in private.

"Come in!"

Fergus stepped through the door and smiled. After closing the door behind him, he ran to meet his father, who picked him up and put him on his lap. Fraser looked at him with a slightly probing look, then he said:

"You did good!"

"What?" the boy asked, turning his face up to Frasers.

"Well, you washed and dressed properly, and most of all you knocked!”

Fergus sighed.

"That's what I've been training with Claire... for the last week. She said it was rude not to knock and that you don't do that.”

"Claire's right. Now go get your jacket. Then we can go."

As Fergus stormed off, Fraser turned to Claire again:

"Thank you. I spent many weeks trying to teach him. At some point, I gave up. He was always so enthusiastic and forgot about it."

"He will and can continue to be enthusiastic. There is no way I'm going to talk him out of it. But now that he's in school..."

Fraser smiled and nodded.

Suddenly a call came from the hallway:

"Papa, are you coming? I'm ready."

"Duty calls. I've got to go," said Fraser and stood up, "we'll talk again tonight about what we can do about Geillis and Dave.”

"Thanks. Have a good time. See you for tea?"

"Yes, sure," returned Fraser. He almost leaned over to her, hugged her and gave her a kiss on the cheek. But he could jut hold himself back

"Window" by OlgaofDG

When "the two men" had left, Claire cleared the table and brought the dishes into the kitchen. She knew that this was not one of her duties. But why should the dishes be left there until Mrs. Curtius came and prepared the table for tea? In the kitchen, Claire made herself a big sandwich that she wanted to eat for lunch. Then she took the elevator to her apartment. After making herself a cup of tea, she sat down at her desk and began to write a diary. There were so many thoughts going through her mind and journaling had been Claire's way of organizing her thoughts and giving them direction for many years. Two hours later, she made herself a fresh can of tea and started eating her sandwich. Afterwards she picked up a book, lay down on her couch and started reading. When she noticed that she was getting tired, she set the alarm clock on her smartphone and some minutes after that she fell asleep.

Shortly after four pm, Claire's smartphone rang. She stretched herself. Then she got up, folded the blanket and went into the bathroom. Ten minutes later she entered the dining room, where she was greeted by "the two men" and a large pot of fresh tea. The intense aroma of the tea enveloped her, and for a moment Claire thought that there was no way she wanted to be anywhere else right now. Mrs. Curtius had already set the table and around the teapot trays with small sandwiches, scones and tea cakes were waiting for them to enjoy. Claire had to smile as she watched Fergus, who was still talking to her excitedly, with his eyes was all over the tasty delicacies. Fraser, too, had not escaped Claire's gaze and he grinned.

"Museumsdorf Düppel" by Andreas Paul - Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=21251947

During the meal that followed, Jamie had to warn his foster son several times not to speak with his mouth full, otherwise he would have to call him a rowdy buffoon. Fergus laughed, knowing full well that Fraser never meant any harm when he had to rebuke him. But then his hunger was satisfied and he began to tell Claire about what he had experienced that afternoon ‘with Papa’. He described in detail the trip to the museum village of Düppel. It was one of the ten most visited museums for children in and around Berlin. At 11:00 a.m. they had taken part in a guided tour of the medieval village and visited various craft houses. Afterwards they went to the stables where they could observe shaggy historical animal species such as Skudden sheep and grazing pigs.

"Skuddenschaf im Museumsdorf Düppel" by Lotse - Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=24947309

Finally, they visited the Center for Experimental Medieval Archaeology. Here father and son experienced how weaving and braiding was done and what traditional handicraft looked like in the Middle Ages. They listened to a short lecture about how tar is made from wood and what the Neanderthal man had to do with it. There were medieval games for children in the afternoon, but by now "the Frasers" were really hungry and Jamie asked the driver to take them to the Island Café on Potsdam's Friendship Island. There "the Frasers" and the driver had lunch, watched the pedal boats pass by and enjoyed the beautiful landscape. Afterwards, they took a walk through the lovingly laid out garden and visited the extensive water playground, which, however, was no longer in full operation due to the season. When they returned to the parking lot, they were happy but also a little exhausted. Together they were looking forward to being soon in their warm home and with Claire. However, none of the "Fraser men" mentioned this. They both just said how much they were looking forward "to have tea".

"View from the Friendship Island Potsdam to the Museum Barberini" by Bärwinkel, Klaus - Own Work, CC BY 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=59439592

After tea they went over to the conservatory where Fraser had built up the electrical railway a few days earlier. While "the two men" devoted themselves to their hobby, sending all kinds of trains over the tracks, Claire placed one of the armchairs in front of the fireplace so that she could feel the warmth of the fireplace in her back. It also allowed her to observe "the two men" and to look through the Panoramic window into the slightly lit garden every now and then.

At 6:00 p.m. Claire left to set the table for dinner. The food prepared by Mrs. Curtius was in a special refrigerator, so Claire only had to set the plates, glasses and cutlery. She could then take out the plates with cheese and sausage, as well as salads and bread, and put them on the table. Had she ever felt so much joy doing chores like this before? Claire could not remember. Suddenly, she remembered a phrase that Uncle Lamb had whispered softly in her ear whenever she thanked him for anything: "What you do for love is always done good."

"Dinner" by JillWellington

After they had eaten, Fraser took Fergus to shower and Claire cleared the table. Then she joined "the two men" who were already sitting on the pirate bed in Fergus' room. To Claire's surprise, there was a big book on Fergus' knees that she had never seen before. He held it out to her and she read the title: "A year in the Middle Ages: Eating and celebrating, traveling and fighting, ruling and punishing, believing and loving.”

"Fergus proudly announced, "Papa gave me this today," and immediately added, "Will you read it to me, Claire?

"No," she replied, adding, "Today is my day off. Your Papa is reading to you today. But I like to listen and you can snuggle up to me while listening. Okay?"

Fergus beamed and handed Fraser the book.

When the child had fallen asleep, they quietly left the room. Fraser pointed to the door to his living room.

"Let's just have a quick chat about what we're going to do about Geillis and Dave."

Claire nodded.

Fraser asked if she wanted a drink, but Claire refused. As they sat in the armchairs in front of the fireplace she wasted no time:

"I thought about what you said this morning. I think it's the only way to convince Geillis."

"All right. I'll call Dave. But may I remind you that I am leaving on Wednesday for a ten-day business trip to Scandinavia and Asia. I will not return until Saturday of the following week."

Fraser had pulled his smartphone out of his pocket and started wading through his calendar.

"I kept the days after that, Sunday through Wednesday inclusive, to spend time with Fergus and give you time off. The earliest we could meet Geillis and Dave would be at the weekend after. Do you think you can get Gilis at distance by then?”

"Yes," agreed Claire, who knew what he was getting at. "After all, I'll be responsible for Fergus 24/7. I can't meet with her or make long phone calls."

Fraser nodded. Then he added:

"And you don't have to tell your friend about your days off either."

"Exactly. There's no law, even in Germany, that requires me to do that."

Fraser stood up and Claire thought he wanted to end the conversation, but he slowly walked over to the glass door leading out onto the balcony and looked out. He began to speak softly:

"Claire, I don't know how you feel about all this. I ... don't know what you think of me. Our company ... we ... move millions, sometimes hundreds of millions across the globe every day. I often wonder how it could have come to this. We started a small business many generations ago and now it has become a multinational corporation.”

"Fireplace" by ianetmoreno

He paused for a moment.

"I try to do everything I can to make sure it's not just about profit. We support charitable organizations and NGO's all over the world. And wherever we employ people, we not only pay the legally required minimum wage. Here the minimum wage is a little over 8 euros. We have been paying over 13 euros for years. I want employees who do not need two or three jobs to feed their families. And yet ..."

Again he paused for a moment.

"I don't know, Claire, what you're thinking, Maybe you think I'm a person who uses money to get what I want. No matter what it costs. But, you know, I don't care about any of that. The company, this house, it all means nothing to me. I could sell it all tomorrow and I wouldn't miss it for the world."

Fraser turned and looked at Claire.

"The only thing that means anything to me, Claire, is that little human sleeping in his pirate bed over there."

He took a deep breath in and out. Then he went on:

"When I found him at that bridge in Paris ... at first I thought that there was only a bundle of dirty clothes lying there ... but then this bundle moved .... That evening, he first met me dismissively, even aggressively ... I sat down on the blank stones at some distance from him and began to talk to him ... and sometime that evening he gave me the greatest gift that you can give a person. He gave me his trust."

Fraser swallowed. But only seconds passed, and then he was in control again.

"I presume you know the Greek Stoics?"

Claire smiled.

"You couldn't be my uncle's niece and not know them," she replied.

"I thought so. One of the Greek Stoics, Seneca, writes in one of his letters to Lucillus: 'Nothing good that we possess can really please us if we cannot share it with friends.’ I cannot give the child back the five years of his childhood that have already passed. But I can do everything to make the next years of his life better. I want to offer him all the possibilities ... he is a bright intelligent child. I want him to have the opportunity to go to the best schools, the best universities ... if he wants to. I want him to discover and develop his abilities and talents. Everything else here is not really of lasting value, you can't grasp it or hold on to it. What people call success, all the things that newspapers turn into headlines, is only a fleeting phenomenon. These things only acquire value because people attach value to them. When I die, do you really think I would miss having made a hundred million more profit? Certainly not. But I know that I will regret every opportunity I didn't take to do good to this cheeky dwarf. Do you understand that?"

"Father and Son" by Olichel

Claire had stood up and joined him.

"Yes, I understand that."

"Then you understand that we're doing this all for Fergus."

She could have answered "yes" quickly, but when she saw what feelings were reflected on his face, Claire not only understood him, she felt what he felt.

Gently, she put her right hand on his shoulder.

"Jamie, you are a good father. You really are."

Fraser looked at her and swallowed.

"Do you really believe that or..."

"No, no 'or'. I'm convinced of that because I've seen it with my own eyes every day I've spent here with you and Fergus so far.”

"Thank you, Claire. It means a lot to me when you make that judgment."

He was silent for a moment, but Claire sensed that deep inside there was something still moving him.

"Claire, tell me honestly, did you take this job for the money?"

Now she had to laugh.

"It would be a lie if I told you that the generous salary hadn't played a role in my application. About the other money ... I didn't know anything yet. As I said, my husband left me a mountain of debt and Geillis quite rightly said that with the money I earn from you I could reduce that debt. But in the end, it wasn't the money that tipped the scales in favor of taking the job. You know, I lost my parents when I was five years old as well and ... somehow there was something that connected me to Fergus right away. No, it wasn't the money that tipped the scales."

A slight smile came over Fraser's face.

"Thank you, Claire. For everything you're doing for Fergus and me. Sleep well."

Claire wanted to tell him so many things, but she knew it was better to keep quiet now.

"Good night, Jamie."

As Fraser turned his gaze back to the dimly lit garden, she walked to the door. But before she touched the handle, she turned around briefly.

"Jamie?"

"Yes?" Fraser asked in surprise.

"You're a good father. You're a good father, don't you forget that."

#Outlander #Outlander Fan Fiction #Outlander Prompt Exchange #Jamie Fraser #Claire Beauchamp #Fergus Fraser #Geillis Duncan #Berlin #Germany #modern au

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lord-tathamet · 3 years

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Dinner Plans

A short story almost two years of age, that I once wrote for a university class. Found it again, dusted it off, polished it slightly, but let it retain that little bit of amateurish writing simply to marvel at how far I’ve come with my writing ever since.

Enjoy.

For the fifth time in the last two hours did the man with the moustache and sunglasses look up from his research and look at the face of the clock of the broken church. He scowled beneath the moustache, but forced himself to look at it regardless.

4:18 pm.

They were late, as per usual. He shook his head and focused back on his literature. He made the mental note to have a number of alarm clocks be send to each of them for next time. Flatteringly Photoshopped pictures of the Mexican coast reflected in his sunglasses while his eyes skimmed through the brochure's whimsical descriptions of the rich culture of its indigenous people and beautiful beaches. He skipped through a couple of pages until he found what he was looking for. A decidedly too sharply fined and too pale fingernail stabbed into the page displaying the photograph of an ancient, grey pyramid.

The man sitting behind the shining aluminium table was tall, narrow and sharply dressed: a suit jacket with bloodstone cufflinks, black suit-pants, a clean white shirt only slightly wrinkled and two buttons open. His legs ended in a pair of shiny, pointy shoes. His face was stern and angular, with pronounced cheekbones and a pointed chin. Bushy eyebrows sat above the pair of sunglasses that protected his eyes against the sun, and a long white moustache grew beneath the hooked nose which gave his appearance a certain roguish charm. A wavy mane of grey-white hair surrounded his face and hid the pointed tips of his ears, giving him certain qualities akin to an old lion. It was difficult to clearly guess his age, but anyone briefly passing by and glancing at him would take him for a very spry looking gentleman in his mid-fifties.

Leaning in on his read, the man with the white moustache made a few notes on a small block of paper. The pen he used was black, ornamented with silver filigree and absurdly expensive, as was the ink held within. Next to the note pad stood an untouched and by now cold cup of coffee, its content as pitch-black as a dark winter night and reflecting the bright afternoon sun above. Disgusting in taste and disgustingly cheap in comparison, but he needed the table, and none of the waiters would bother him as long as he had at least one beverage in front of him, as maligned and untouched it was.

Cars rolled by exhuming grey fumes, the nearby fountain shot water into the air and people passed his table. Most of them in casual summer clothes, sundresses and cargo pants and shirts and some of them even with hats to gain some shade. For a moment, the man looked up from his notes and allowed himself a brief indulgence – the eyes behind the sunglasses darted from one healthy neck to another. A small, wolfish smile parted the pale lips and if there had been anyone to pay close attention, they would have gained a brief glance at his very pointed, very sharp and unusually long canines.

“Good afternoon, count.”

The man in the white moustache begrudgingly pulled his eyes away from his current mark – a lovely Turkish woman with streaming black hair that was climbing the stairs around the fountain just a shy dozen feet from his table, close enough for him to smell the sweet mixture of blood and perfume she exhumed – and he turned to the youth that had seated herself opposite of him, soundless and sudden as if she had appeared out of the thin air.

“And to you, countess. You are looking lively as always.”

She seemed young enough to be his granddaughter, though no one within their right mind would have thought to imagine a superficial familiarity between the two. A girl of fourteen years, with a healthy, rosy complexion and flowing, lush dark hair that curled at her shoulders, the sunshine twisting golden shimmers into its waves. Large doe-like eyes that projected innocence and hid a vicious intellect, a petite body that suggested fragility and cloaked the strength to bend iron bars as if they were straws. She was in white, of course she was, a pretty, knee-length dress and a white handbag in her lap and with her hands folded atop of it. The lid of her bag, the man with the moustache noted with a mild amusement, was riddled with numerous, colourful stickers and badges, and around her wrists hung several loops and bands of tiny gemstones like rainbow wreaths.

They were the only change about her since their last meeting.

“Thank you. My sincere apologies, there was an unfortunate delay with the train between Kassel and Hannover.” She shook her head. “More than five centuries since the invention of rail transport and still a simple thing like an open door may stall a train's journey for almost an entire fifteen minutes.”

She nodded at the travel brochure still open in front of him. “Are you already planning your next journey? I thought you would stay in Berlin a little while longer.”

“I am a traveller at heart, milady. Although my beloved home will always be in the heart of Europe, the other continents do possess their own charming allure,” he replied, setting the brochure and note block aside. “And besides, it has been a while since I have last visited the Americas. There must be much exciting game to be hunted there.”

“Always about excitement, is that the reason you wanted us all to meet here of all places?” The countess nudged her chin toward the broken church spire in the background, a disgusted sneer cracking her face. “And mirroring glass everywhere around us. One of these days, your thrill-seeking hunts might cost you your life.”

“How would the youth of your seeming generation say? No risk, no fun.” The count let his eyes wander around the square for a moment. “Where is Laura? The two of you were practically bound at the hip when we last met.”

The young-seeming woman stiffened in her seat. The snarl dissolved into a very neutral, very calm expression that seemed like it was carved from marble. “Laura is... no longer with us.”

A single eyebrow rose, but otherwise the count's face remained unmoved. “Hunters?

“No.” There was a subtle tremble of her lip, the count noted, before she continued: “She could no longer bear it, she told me, moments before she drove the knife through her own neck. She betrayed me, just like the others before her.”

“My condolences.”

She nodded, her face remaining neutral. “It has been over three decades since. I have moved on as best as I could.

“In fact,” she allowed herself a smile,” I happen to have a date just after we met up with our friends.”

“You still insist on fraternizing with your prey?” The count sneered. “Now that is a carelessness that will get you killed one day.”

“Because unlike you, I seek actual companionship?” Her eyes glinted like sharp icicles in the sun. “Because unlike you, I do not wish to to prolong myself in solitude and run afoul like some pack-less dog? Because I want to spend this blasted eternity with someone like myself?”

Blue flashed and briefly turned red. For a moment, the two stared at each other with an intensity not unlike of two big cats, every individual muscle tense and ready to pounce. Then as quickly as the moment came, it passed.

“I did not mean to insult you, milady. Forgive me. I only worry about others of our kind. We are already so very few remaining,” the count sighed.

“Do not kid yourself, count. You care for nobody but yourself,” the countess replied, but she too relaxed in her seat.

The next five minutes they spent in silence. The count returned to his brochure, only briefly looking up to take notes and to send another quick glance up at the clock tower. The young woman had produced a smartphone from her handbag and immersed herself in the screen, brief smiles lighting up her face in between her typing and the brief ping of sent messages.

“Empusa will be here in half an hour,” she said after little while and looked up from the screen. “She is picking up Lamia from the airport and helping her through customs right now.”

“What about Schreck?”

“The sun is still up, remember? He will meet us after dusk.”

“His mutation is as highly fascinating as it is impractical,” the count murmured. “Why didn't they update me about it?”

“We do possess a text chain, you know. I'm surprised you are not part of it, since you are always the one organizing our meetings.”

“I refuse to touch one of those damnable Apps ever since Lestat sent around pictures of his own rectum to everyone.”

“Suit yourself. Why the Americas?”

The count tapped his finger on the table. “The Mexica people of pre-Columbian America possessed fascinating religious rites related to blood sacrifice to honour their gods...I wonder if there might be others of our kind still in their old territory.”

The countess fiddled with her smartphone. “Sometimes, I admit, I envy your ability to travel without restraint. I tried everything, yet I still must return to my family's tomb ever so often.”

“Have you considered moving your tomb in its entirety, stone by stone? There are still many old woods and mountain valleys unmolested by human hand. I am sure the hags you usually travel with would be most grateful for the exercise.”

“I have tried, once, when Laura was still with me.” A twinge of sorrow crept across her face. “I wanted to go far, far away from home and take her with me. But then, my body began to wither, my senses to decay the longer I prolonged returning to my tomb for a night. Laura, too, could not go long without a place to return to. Horse-carriages can only get you so far. And when we tried to move a single stone, what little strength I had left in that moment was about to leave me.”

The count hummed. Then his own phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out, swiped across the screen, read the message in silence. A wolfish grin split his face.

“Then you'll be happy to know that I plan on putting an end to these laws that seem to bind us.”

“What to you mean?” The countess leaned forward, an eyebrow arched.

“I planned on surprising all of you when Schreck, Lamia and the others would be gathered with us, but I might just as well reveal it all now,” the count smiled and leaned back, hands tapered together. There was a red gleam to his eyes, behind the sunglasses. “In my studies of the Americas, I came across a new initiate to our little circle – one that shares many of my own tastes and wishes to help others of his kin. Among such, is breaking the accursed bindings placed upon us.”

He extended a pointing finger. “He is currently sitting on the other end of the Breitscheidplatz. The tall man, olive skinned, with the gold rings in his ears.”

The countess followed his direction, narrowed her blue eyes to a glint. “What is his name?”

“The old Mayan people called him Camazotz. And he might very well be one of the first of our kind to walk this earth.”

On the other end of the square, the tall, olive-skinned man with golden rings in both his ears turned his head and nodded at them. His eyes gleamed in a blood-red, and for just a moment, both of the undead nobles could catch a glimpse of his shadow flickering across the wall behind him.

For just a split-second, they saw the shadow of a bat the size of a small house, stretching its wings and enveloping the street within its grasp.

#dracula #vampire #vampires #supernatural #carmilla #nosferatu #fanfiction #?#definitely fanfiction #horror #modern day #my writing #fiction

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memorylang · 3 years

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12 Months’ Pandemic Chronicled | #51 | March 2021

Happy Palm Sunday yesterday, and Happy Passover from the night before! Right under two weeks ago, March 16, 2O2I, marked the one-year anniversary to the close of my first Peace Corps Mongolia service. While I’ve continued to serve virtually, I’ve done so informally as a Returned Peace Corps Volunteer. Having lived these past 12 months back in the States, today’s tales chronicle that year.

Also commemorating the one-year anniversary, I’ve uploaded dozens of photos from my first nine months serving Mongolia. You can find those on my Instagram and Facebook, from February and March. I begin today’s stories with those. From there, I chronicle my journey across the year.

Evacuating Mongolia (February 2O2O)

February’s final week, on Ash Wednesday 2O2O, I was in Mongolia celebrating the third day of Tsagaan Sar, its Lunar New Year. Returning to my apartment from my last supper, I read an email from Peace Corps Mongolia that we were evacuating. I pulled an all-nighter packing my apartment. Shortly after sunrise, I visited a Peace Corps neighbor’s apartment to pack theirs. Then in my final two days, I said hasty goodbyes to community members, exchanging parting gifts.

Sunday morning, which began Peace Corps Week and March 2O2O, I and fellow Volunteers loaded into Peace Corps vehicles and rode in our caravan till evening. Then the snowstorm caused us to need to stay overnight in a hotel coincidentally located in a city that my cohort would frequent during our summer 2OI9 for training. My evacuation group reached Mongolia’s capital Monday afternoon, with briefings from staff throughout Tuesday. Mongolia had already begun to enforce mask-wearing and physical-distancing, so we couldn’t do much with our final hours in Mongolia. Indeed, since mid-January, many public places had already closed due to quarantine.

Wednesday night, the week after my peers and I had received notice of our evacuation and now mere hours before my group would depart the country, we awaited the arrival of fellow Peace Corps peers to the capital. For, Peace Corps staff staggered our arrivals into and departures from the capital to account for both the time drivers would need to assemble us from across the nation and the limited flight options still going out of the country. Those of us who remained awake through our final night enjoyed getting to see and embrace peers for our final moments together.

Over the course of Thursday, March 5, my group flew first from Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia, through Moscow, Russia, to Berlin, Germany. Many of our itineraries diverged. From Germany, I and a few flew to Amsterdam, the Netherlands. From the Netherlands, I and a couple others flew to New York, New York. I slept four and a half hours’ in a hotel. Then I flew alone Friday from New York to Las Vegas, Nevada. I returned to my home of junior high and high school in North Las Vegas.

American Twilight Zone (March 2O2O)

My first few weeks in the States felt weird, not just because of reverse culture shock. Back in Mongolia, fellow Peace Corps Volunteers, particularly Health Volunteers, had followed American media and read that our presidential administration had been downplaying the COVID-19 pandemic. Problematically, too, when leaders acknowledged it, some labeled it the “China virus” and accused Asians of spreading it. These set the tone.

When I arrived in New York, I felt perturbed by the lack of mask-wearing and physical distancing. The morning when I’d fly out, I felt annoyed when the worker who checked me into my flight joked that I might have the virus since I’d flown in from Mongolia. Mongolia had no COVID cases—and wouldn’t have its first community transmission till November 11, 2O2O. Friends, too, when I said that I’d come back, distrusted that I couldn’t have the virus. So, although Peace Corps peers and I had already been quarantining nearly a month and a half before returning to the States—and very much craved to reconnect with folks—we found ourselves again isolated.

Then Vegas felt weird. Nevada had reported its first COVID case the day before I returned, yet Mongolia hadn’t any. Yet Mongolia had shut down, and Nevada hadn’t. Society moved as though little was happening. My brothers still had school and were gone most of most days. Dad worked weekdays out-of-town. Thus, while I lived again in the States, even inside my family’s home, I was the only one around. I felt lonelier than how’d I’d felt before leaving my life abroad.

The Filipina family of my father’s fiancée was perhaps the most understanding of my circumstances. The oldest daughter was celebrating her birthday that first Sunday, March 8, since my return to the States. So, I got to join them in enjoying the occasion. As I’d come to learn, Mongolia and the Philippines had more cultural similarities than I’d expected. I’d also feel dismayed to learn that people weren’t treating the youngest daughter kindly in her food service role, for some customers believed that her being Asian meant that she had the Coronavirus.

Resettling Into Lent (March 2O2O)

Most every morning, my first few days and weeks, tracks from Disney's “Frozen II” became my anthems. I’d seen the film that Friday, March 6, when I’d flown alone back to Vegas. I’d connected especially with “Show Yourself,” “Some Things Never Change” and “The Next Right Thing.” I started to learn the lyrics not only in English but also in Mandarin Chinese and Spanish.

My local church was still open. Meanwhile, in Mongolia, our church had been closed for nearly months. So, I attended services daily. I overheard old parishioners wondering what all this pandemic talk was about. I visited Reconciliation and a Stations of the Cross service. I applied to sing in the choir with which my late mom sang.

My second week in the States, church and schools closed. Meanwhile, Peace Corps announced its global evacuation. My peers and I weren’t to expect to return to Mongolia this summer and instead were to expect that fall would be the soonest. My youngest brother’s hs senior spring ended abruptly, so he stuck around at the house. Our oldest brother left to quarantine with his girlfriend and her sisters.

I cleaned much in and around the house. My greatest achievement early in the pandemic was to lead a garage clean-up with all siblings when my sisters visited. The task enabled us to at last park a vehicle in it once more. My siblings and I donated, too, decades of belongings.

Among the unearthing, I dove deep into family history. I wrote up my understanding of my father's and my late mother's ancestries, which were also mine. Months later, I'd join WikiTree, talk to distant relatives and migrate large swathes of history onto the platform.

Easter in Action (April–May 2O2O)

Gloom seemed to enshroud the world by Easter. I saw from the telly the Vatican's Lenten services, witnessing Pope Francis’ words from his city to the world and for Holy Week. His Good Friday Way of the Cross felt especially moving, for prisoners had written beautiful reflections that made me realize how little of a prison our quarantine was.

My younger sister in LA had also returned to visit Vegas. I resumed daily exercise routines, including trying to concurrently complete handheld video games and walk miles on the treadmill. This began my May push to make the most of my days back in America. I kicked up a daily Duolingo habit, rising through leagues, and talked regularly with Mongols during early mornings. Such helped my sanity, especially when state offices gave me a hard time trying to get the unemployment assistance to which lawmakers entitled evacuated Returned Peace Corps Volunteers.

Around Memorial Day, an uncle and aunt visited from Kansas to celebrate my youngest brother’s high school graduation online. The relatives also took my siblings, a family friend and me on my first national parks trip in years. We saw Saguaro, Great Basin and Capitol Reef. During the trip I’d grown my Goodreads library and soon enough uncovered the Libby app. The journey led me too to begin a pensive look back on my life.

Summer in Reno (June–July 2O2O)

Dad remarried on June 6, 2020. Shortly thereafter, I relocated to Reno to help Pa and Stepma (“Tita”) handle copious amounts of yard work. With more time to reflect, I took up the request of a homebound friend to pray rosaries daily over the phone with him.

Another friend of mine was going through a dark patch too but had a love of films. So each morning I’d rise early to see one of his recommendations then discuss it while working the yard if I wasn’t praying a rosary. I fondly recall the conversations while trimming plants, as I wander the Reno backyard even now.

Near the same time, the friend and another encouraged me to tell my stories. So I began to write a memoir, on which he’d give feedback. The other friend had me appear on his podcast. Both experiences made the summer feel very whole. In memory of my first summer in Mongolia 2OI9, I also wrote a more detailed series on those experiences. [Arrival (June 2OI9), Meeting Host Family (July 2OI9), Summer’s End (August 2OI9)]

I celebrated my 23rd birthday in Vegas with an overnight vigil, praying 23 rosaries alone and with Catholic friends from around the globe. I felt such joy to reconnect meaningfully with so many across languages and cultures. Languages became a growing theme for me. I’d also begun again playing Pokémon GO after having not played since 2OI6.

That summer, I finished seeing “Star Wars: The Clone Wars” (Season 7) as well as relevant bits from “Star Wars: Rebels.” I kept up with the Japanese episodes of “Pokémon Journeys: The Series.” Those, I’ve watched with English subtitles to know what’s happening. I’d also begun to read chapters of the Bible daily, at that time checking in weekly with an ol' friend. I started with Acts then Proverbs, Ephesians then Psalms. Meanwhile came Hebrews and John. Then were Ruth and Matthew. Now I read 1 Kings and Mark. I’d grown to appreciate both the Hebrew and Christian Bibles with renewed interest.

Autumn Languages (August–September 2O2O)

Much of that fall, I was back in Reno. Yet, my younger brother had also come to Reno for his undergraduate fall semester. The guest room where I’d stayed quickly became his room, which left me a tad displaced. Still, I stuck through. Mornings, I rose early to read through a Latin textbook before daily conversations with a close friend who’d majored in classics as an undergrad.

Meanwhile, I’d stepped up to arrange meetings with Congressional lawmakers on behalf of the National Peace Corps Association. I’d also taken on roles within my alma mater Honors College and within the Social Justice Task Force for the American Psychological Association’s Society for the Psychology of Religion and Spirituality. I kept people organized and took notes during meetings. Meanwhile, my siblings and I had been starting a scholarship foundation, so I’d taken point on negotiating a partnership with the Vegas-based Public Education Foundation.

As a nice break, I joined friends I’d met in high school on their near-monthly trips to national and state parks. These sights included Lassen Volcanic, Burney Falls and Tahoe’s Emerald Bay. Realizing that I wouldn’t return to Mongolia that fall, I booked a Department of Motor Vehicles appointment to renew my learner’s permit—The earliest appointment would be in December.

In entertainment news, I’d finished seeing “Queer Eye: We’re in Japan,” “Love on the Spectrum” and “Midnight Gospel.” I’d also started playing “Pokémon Masters EX” when I’d heard that it included characters from multiple generations. I enjoyed how the stories felt new yet nostalgic.

National Park Winter (October, November, December 2O2O)

October was a great month for my spiritual life. I got to attend my youngest sister’s Confirmation. I enjoyed my first retreat in years. I also got to tape videos for my alma mater.

Then I returned to Vegas some weeks to complete more yard work. I’d also relocated belongings in different rooms and was able to have my own bedroom back in Vegas. This gave me a decent space in which to work. From November, I’ve also been hosting weekly video calls to help Mongols from my community abroad continue to practice English.

I’d also listened to Riordan audiobooks, “Blood of Olympus” and “Hidden Oracle,” and various authors’ financial literacy materials. By December, “Kafka on the Shore” was a real highlight. In Reno, I saw too “The Mandalorian” (Seasons 1–2), emphatically recommended by a friend with whom I’d hiked at Red Rock Canyon. My other friends and I reunited to try again at Crater Lake and succeeded.

My siblings and I partnered with the Vegas-based Public Education Foundation to launch our family LinYL Foundation to honor our late mother with scholarships for students. Though my formal role’s within outreach, I’ve done a fair bit of organizational leadership given my undergrad experiences. I’ve also been helping another non-profit start-up. Through it, I’ve gotten to meet alumni of overseas programs.

My family celebrated Thanksgiving and Christmas in Vegas with our stepsisters. I’d also celebrated American Independence Day with them. Christmas felt peculiar, as I’d returned from Mongolia to Vegas the Christmas before, too!

Then my national parks friends and I hit a new record, seeing Walnut Canyon, Petrified Forest, Meteor Crater, Sedona’s Devil’s Bridge and the Grand Canyon. Having successfully renewed my learner’s permit, I scheduled my driving test for the earliest date—February. I returned to Reno and at New Year’s reunited with friends for whom I’d participated in their wedding the year before.

Road to Rejuvenation (January–February 2O2I)

Following the U.S. elections came the presidential inauguration. I felt more at peace with the state of the nation after that. Though U.S. politics have absorbed media significantly throughout the pandemic, I felt relieved by the calls for unity and returns to political normalcy from Inauguration Day.

Meanwhile, I sought to kick off 2O2I strong, with renewed optimism and control. I practiced driving almost daily. I’d seen “Daredevil” (Season 3) too and progressed in the Blue Lions story of my younger sister’s “Fire Emblem: Three Houses” copy. At February’s start, after years of challenges, I secured my driver’s license.

Mid-February, my national parks friends and I saw Utah’s Mighty Five. Our trip spanned Canyonlands, Arches, Capitol Reef (different section), Escalante, Bryce Canyon and Zion. I got to help drive at the end from Vegas to Reno, a major milestone.

Thanks to Discord, I attended a virtual alumni reunion of my high school alma mater. I experienced our school's recreation in “Minecraft: Java Edition,” wandering into the classroom where I used to play “Minecraft” as a freshman. In “RuneScape,” after 12 years on-off, I’d achieved level 99 in all but the newest skill. I'd even gotten the characters I wanted in “Pokémon Masters EX” and nearly finished my Kanto Pokédex in “Pokémon GO.” (I've never before completed a Pokédex.)

I finished February recording music for my undergrad parish’s online edition to our annual performance for “Living Stations of the Cross.” I got to lector at and attend a friend’s baptism. I’d also soaked up my youngest sister’s boyfriend’s Disney+ again and saw “WandaVision” entirely. Its takes on grief and joy astounded.

Social Justice (March 2O2I)

These bring me to where and how I am today. I write from Reno, Nev., where snow had fallen and the weather grown warmer. Spring is here.

The announcement of increasing vaccines gave me lots of hope. Since I've lost so many people this past year to COVID-19 and other conditions I'm grateful that we may near the end. An email from and a check-in call with Peace Corps confirmed that summer would be the soonest I’m going back abroad. Still, I’ve kept in touch with my people in Mongolia.

My older brother and his girlfriend moved into the Vegas house, so I haven’t felt as obligated to be there. Thus, I’ve focused more time on the church in Reno.

A great fount of a spiritual joy for me has been getting to help lector for my college parish’s weekly Proclamations of the Word. I received particular acclaim for my reading from 2 Chronicles, for Lent’s Fourth Sunday, which delighted me. At the time I’d been reading 1 Kings, so I’d enjoyed recognizing parallels. In some ways the exercises are like a miniature college course. Beyond regular Sundays and Holy Week, I’d also lectored for such feast days as St. Joseph’s Day (March 19) and the Annunciation (March 25).

My siblings’ and my family foundation chose our first year of recipients. It’s been an exciting process, reading and witnessing our inspiring candidates. I hope that I'll get to meet these students someday, but ah, the pandemic.

I’ve gotten back into “Frozen II,” thanks to its authentic behind-the-scenes docuseries. I've also passed the one-year anniversary of my first seeing the film. Each morning I’ve sought to see something on Disney's platform—real' nice.

Our psychological division’s presidential task force for Social Justice released our statement about the Capitol riots, which received strong critics but stronger supporters. Then came the Atlanta situation.

In my U.S. Week 5I (Feb. 19–25), during a walk past the nearby elementary school, I’d had an unpleasant personal experience that led me to feel very grateful when the #StopAsianHate campaign began. I’ll likely share more later, but today’s blog story is about done.

Hope and Easter 2O2I (April 2O2I)

At the last Adoration activity before Easter, our parish offered Reconciliation, so I returned again. Absolution offers such sweet cleansing for my mind and soul. Now Holy Week begins. I'm still lectoring, too!

This summer, I hope to write more on my memoir. I’m still revising my research. I'm set to finish all five tiers of Duolingo Latin tomorrow. Then I'll get back to my textbook.

I still delight in chatting with ol’ friends. My national parks homies and I will hit Redwood next weekend. Then my parish has Spring Retreat. I look forward to getting vaccinated in coming months then hugging folks forevermore.

You can read more from me here at DanielLang.me :)

#Peace Corps #Mongolia #memoir #story #Catholic #God #memoryLang #Easter #Lent #USA #StopAsianHate #BlackLivesMatter #year #Coronavirus #COVID-19 #Nevada #America #WithMe #Reno #social justice

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ultimaa · 4 years

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OFFSIDE

Two shot

PART I

Summary: "You’re young, attractive and rich, but Martinique stands between you and the love of your life. Damn, I'm happy I'm not you."

Eren had two sacred rules during his holidays: no football, no social media and no England. These purposes involved moving a thousand kilometers from his apartment in Liverpool to enjoy a peaceful summer in his native Shigansina, a small town in southern Germany where everyone knew each other. There he was simply Dr. Grisha's boy. "Really? Come on, man, go to French Polynesia or Dubai," his partner Connie Springer said. "Shigan-what? Okay, don't mind me. I’m sure parties are great in your town..." Honestly, Eren spent his days off sleeping and playing video games. Sometimes he jogged — after all, he earned his salary thanks to his body — and drunk HB beer, but what he liked most was the feeling of making up for lost time. He loved football and played in one of the best clubs in the world, history would seat him at the same table as Ian Rush, Michael Owen or Steven Gerrard. He loved Anfield, but he was too young when he said goodbye to the field of earth soccer and was taken to Melwood, where his parents visited him once a month. At the age of twenty-six, with a brilliant career, Eren Jaeger returned to Germany like an elephant going to die in a cave, with his family, and then repeated the cycle of nostalgia. However, that year would be different.

The Jaeger couple celebrated their 25th anniversary and they organized a small party with relatives and close friends. Only Eren Kruger, best man, who was in a submarine five thousand meters deep, was absent. As for the others, they all attended: Zeke and Pieck, who had come from Berlin, Aunt Faye, Keith Shadis (Eren’s Godfather), Tom Xaver (Zeke’s Godfather), Hannes, Armin and his grandfather, Kuchel Ackerman (bridesmaid), Kenny Ackerman (usher) and Levi Ackerman. Grisha did not like parties, but Carla settled the discussion with a resounding statement: "Silver anniversary aren’t celebrated every day, darling."

While Hannes, old Arlet, Pieck and Kuchel made a beef stew and the couple danced to the sound of Wiener Blut in the sitting room, Eren opened a bottle of beer and toasted with Armin and Zeke.

"You’re the only one, brother," Zeke pointed out. "You’ll retire bachelor. With ten Golden Balls, but a bachelor."

"The golden bachelor," Eren corrected. "Hey, Armin, you're single too."

"Annie and I are taking some time." His best friend shrugged.

Zeke laughed. He was a cardiologist. "I understand the heart much better than you... in all aspects," he used to say. And it was probably true: he was married to Pieck and the ring did not bother him yet.

"Really? She has been in Australia for two months. Do you know how long Australians last in bed, huh? About seventeen minutes, behind only the Americans, the Canadians and the English. As for the Germans, only eight percent have participated in a trio. If I were you, I'd start to worry."

"Did you just tell me I'm a bad lover?"

"No. Statistics, Armin. Information."

"This dude is like that." Eren took a sip. "He throw the stone and hides the hand."

"I have no interest in offending the virility of the Germans. I'm German, in case you haven't noticed. Siegfried is my grandfather and every Friday I go drinking with Wagner, but not all women know how to appreciate the Central European charm. Also, Melbourne is one of the best cities to live."

"Annie is in Sydney."

"See? That's precisely the problem." Zeke finished his beer and put a hand on Arlet's shoulder. "You know exactly where she is, but does she remember you? When a woman puts fifteen thousand kilometers between her and her partner, she only has one goal: to forget. And while she builds her new beginning, you water her plants."

"I still wonder how you seduced Pieck," Eren said. "Did you take her to dinner with Kaiser Wilhelm and Angela Merkel?"

"Actually, she won me. Well, I fell into the trap. I thought I could escape later. I was wrong and I'm not ashamed to admit it. I ain’t immune to women either."

Zeke showed a wide smile. He was blond and had a magnificent bearing. When the waltz was over, he congratulated Grisha and gave him a beer. Then he hugged Carla and cleared his voice. They all looked at him.

"This woman you see here is suicidal: marrying a Jaeger is dangerous, but marrying a divorced Jaeger with a child is deadly. The first time I saw her I was seven years old and I thought: Will she be like Miss Rottenmeier? No, thanks to God. I had always been Ezekiel, but she started calling me Zeke and that's how my friends, my coworkers and my wife call me. In a way, he baptized me. She ain’t my father's wife or my stepmother. Sorry, Eren; Being an only child is wonderful, but she’s also my mother and I would like us to toast her, the woman who brought us together here today. Cheers! Who’s in charge of the music? Auntie, put Spring’s Voices on. Eren and I are gonna dance."

"Wonderful idea." Armin laughed. "Football? As Martha Graham said, dance is the hidden language of the soul."

"You bastards." Eren took his brother's hand.

"Don't step on my shoes."

Among the music and the wild laughter of Kenny and Hannes, Eren did not realize what was about to happen. No clairvoyant would have guessed it. He looked sideways and saw her appear: black hair, aviator sunglasses, and a cigarette between her lips. White rolled-up shirt, capri pants and strappy sandals. He lost concentration and Zeke roared with laughter. He knew, of course. The last time he saw her was on the eve of her trip to Martinique, where she had spent the past year. The waltz ended and they both bowed. Eren did not want to raise the head. Why had no one warned him?

"Levi told me she came back last night," Zeke whispered.

Eren did not even hear the applause. He quickly returned to Armin, who was chatting with Keith Shadis, a retired military man, about the Ardennes Counteroffensive and the Nuremberg Trials. "I am almost sure," said his friend, a historian, "that Franz von Papen died in '69."

"Mikasa is here," Eren hissed.

"I know," he nodded, "and I'm gonna greet her, she's my lifelong friend and I'm glad to see her. You should do the same. Don't think about what happened."

"Did you know? Armin!"

His friend approached her. Great. Eren slipped out into the garden with a couple of beer cans and sat down on a wooden bench. Pretend you don't care, he thought. It belongs to the past, that's it! Fuck! You have to call it by its name: pain. Before she left, they drank like a fish and ended up going to bed. That was last summer. They had not spoken about it since then. He could already hear wise and eminent Zeke Jaeger’s voice: "So you haven’t had a girlfriend since Christ was crucified, but you shag with your best friend. Da ya need to talk, Eren?" Shit! Maybe he needed to tell someone how much her decision to go to Martinique hurt when he declared her love. She had a degree in Arts, so she was offered to do a study about Paul Gauguin, who spent a time on the island. So Zeke would say: "The Caribbean? I'm sorry, brother, I'm so sorry. You and Armin can cry together."

Eren was in love with her. It is one of those truths that one understands with a broken heart. And this led him to reject the insinuations of several, too many women in recent months. There were rumors that he was gay.

"Look who's here: Reds’ Hunter," Mikasa greeted him. "Can I sit?"

"You can do whatever you want." Eren was not angry, but a little drunk. He scratched his right arm; Delacroix's Liberty was tattooed from shoulder to elbow; Lower down, on the forearm, Goya’s Colossus collapses the Berlin Wall. On the inside of the doll, an M. Again, he could hear his brother's voice calling him an idiot.

Mikasa sat next to him. Her skin was not as pale as before: Caribbean tan. The serious mouth was the same and the gray eyes had not changed. She had a fine scar on her right cheek.

"Congratulations on winning the Premier."

"Yeah, well, first in Liverpool's history." Eren groaned. "How did it go with Gauguin?"

"Excellently. Van Gogh said that Gauguin didn’t paint with the brush, but with the phallus. However, mayby he didn’t die of syphilis..."

"Are you kidding me? Do you congratulate me on the championship and talk about Gauguin's cock?" He let out a sardonic laugh. "If that's all you have to tell me after all this time..."

"This is neither the time nor the place".

"I don’t care. We fucked, Mikasa."

"I know. I was there."

"Really? Because sometimes I think about it and it seems a mirage. You've been avoiging the matter a whole year, a fucking year. You show up at my parents' party like nothing's wrong and talking about fucking Gauguin." Eren paused. "Annie is in Australia. Do you know how long Australians last in bed? Seventeen minutes. How long do Martinicans last?"

"I know what you're implying," Mikasa said seriously, "and you're wrong, Eren. You’re very wrong. Do you think I would be able to do that after sleeping with you?"

Carla Jaeger interrupted them; the meal was ready. They were not hungry, but an inexplicable feeling oppressed them: Eren's blood boiled; Mikasa's was frozen.

"When you want us to talk as adults, let me know," she said.

Adults! Eren said nothing. He sat between Zeke and Armin, who gave him a questioning look. Eren sighed and started eating. He remained oblivious to all the conversations, sharing looks with Mikasa, sitting next to her uncle Kenny. One year had passed and perhaps he was angry, but he winked al her. She smiled and caught the kiss Eren discreetly sent her, and showed her thumb.

"Okay," Zeke said, after wiping his mouth with a napkin. "Have I ever told you about friendship between men and women? No, because it’s impossible. Were you and Annie ever friends, Armin?"

"Huh… Yeah?"

"No. You wanted to have sex, but you didn't tell her."

"I know you know," Eren whispered.

"I’ve known for a long time. In fact, I knew it before you did, bro. You were like Heidi and Peter, and now, if you were alone, this would become Nine and a half Weeks.

For Zeke it was too obvious, but what about the others? Eren looked at them closely. They talked about politics, football, past... Levi was the only one who remained silent. He was not a very talkative man, unlike his mother and uncle. Kuchel and Kenny talked and laughed like no one else. As for Mikasa, whose premature orphanhood led her to grow up with them, her character was soft; silent, good listener and without his cousin’s curtness. Did she tell someone what happened? Maybe Sasha Braus? After the meal, Eren felt adult enough.

The whole evening passed pleasant between anecdotes and skat hands. Keith Shadis left around six in the afternoon; He had to return to Munich for work. As for the others, Carla insisted that they stay for dinner. While Grisha and Zeke had a scholarly conversation about the latest advances in medicine, Kenny was laughing loudly with Mikasa by his side.

"I never imagined that we would have an artist in the family."

"I'm an art historian," Mikasa pointed out.

"If God doesn’t give you children, Devil gives you nephews." Kenny lit a cigarette. "Ackermans have always been country people. Levi was the first to go to university; He was already a whiz since childhood. Fortunately, Mikasa followed suit.

"What is Martinique like?" Carla asked.

"Quiet. When it rains, goodbye internet and light, and of course I have to mention mosquitoes, humidity, heat and earthquakes," she paused, "but people are lovely and the landscapes are spectacular. They are exactly like on postcards. Oh, and the accra is very good."

"We could go on vacation, honey." Zeke looked at Pieck. "I'm tired of Sardinia."

"But you have to be careful with snakes," Mikasa continued, smiling. "I was bitten by a eyelash viper. Nothing serious, but I wouldn’t repeat the experience."

"One year has been enough, hasn't it?" Eren, who was playing cards with Armin, had his ears set on the conversation.

"Yes. For now I will stay here I’ll go to Munich in September to work at the Alte Pinakothek."

"It's fantastic," said Armin.

"And you’ll be close," added Kuchel.

So Munich. However, Mikasa commented on the possibility of another trip. She specialized in Impressionism and did not rule out settling in France. After dinner, when it was time to say goodbye, Eren pulled out his cell phone and wrote her a message: "Do you wanna talk?" She looked sidelong at him and replied, "Come home tomorrow. We will be alone." Jaeger thought about that last one; He smiled, pleased, and quickly typed, "Good."

They all left except for Zeke and Pieck, who would spend a few days in the village before returning to Berlin. It was like going back fifteen years ago, when they still crowd around under one ceiling. Carla loved having them all there. Her good character led her to have an excellent relationship with her daughter-in-law. Grisha was pleased with the situation; He played chess with Zeke for hours, in total silence. Eren used to watch them, attentive to the gestures, wondering how they could drag on a duel that long. And it all ended with one word: "Checkmate."

Zeke followed him into the garden with a cigarette on the lips. He had tried to stop smoking, but there are things a man can never give up, like mentholated Camel.

"You don't smoke, do you? What a pity. One or two cigarettes once in a while doesn't hurt anyone, Mr. Perfect Abs." Zeke blew out the smoke. "Munich. A wonderful city, especially in October."

"We’re gonna talk tomorrow."

"One day I take a look at the yellow press and I see you with Historia Reiss, and I think you're a lucky bastard. You’re young, attractive and rich, but Martinique stands between you and the love of your life. Damn, I’m happy I’m not you."

"I love you too." Eren frowned.

"I’m trying to help you. Don't screw it up, okay? A bad step now and you will regret it all your life." His brother clapped him on the back. "Now If you can excuse me, I'm going to make love to my wife in my fifteen-year-old room."

"I didn't need to know that."

…

Having the house to herself, Mikasa went down to have black tea. Frugal breakfast, as always. She felt like an intruder in her own town and jet lag was not benevolent. She wanted to stay in bed, she’s just got ants in her pants. She did push-ups and thought about the last exhausting year. Operation Gauguin, as she called it, had been a true odyssey. Fuck the Caribbean. She had missed Europe, her family and friends, but duty is duty. As for Eren, she could not reproach him for anything. He was angry. She should not have slept with him before she left; Mikasa kept thinking about it for a moment. Secrets and sex are a bad combination for consciousness. Besides, she left without saying goodbye. She behaved like a real motherfucker and would do it again: sentimentality is not advisable before a possible trip with no return. No, she couldn't listen to Eren's feelings before getting on the plane. Deep down, she suffered from the greatest weakness: love.

She lay down on the floor and closed his eyes. God, the cold slabs were nicer than any bed in the Caribbean. The woman forgot the physical and mental exhaustion when Eren touched the knocker. She took a breath and decided to improvise. The first thing Mikasa noticed was Dior's perfume. He was wearing an unbuttoned black polo shirt, gray jeans, and deck shoes. The three-day beard and dapper cut fit him very well. Those tropical eyes ... Shit!

Silence. Glances. It was inevitable. Eren closed the door behind him and received her kiss in a frenzy. Mikasa bit his lips, tugged at his hair. The man held her prisoner in his arms, sliding his hands down her back, her hips and her neck, anxious and needy. Their mouths were lost in each other's. Eren threw his head back and went deeper, searching for lost time. He licked her lips from corner to corner. The touch of tongues was deadly like a sword dance. They parted, face to face, panting, obscene. Mikasa wanted to make love to him in the middle of the hall and tell him how much she had missed him.

"Did you want to talk?" Eren planted another kiss.

"Yes," Mikasa replied. "I’m so sorry. I fucked up. I have a very interesting story to tell you, but I don't know if it will be more exciting than winning the English league."

"Ok, you know I prefer Monet, but..."

"It has nothing to do with Gauguin." Mikasa took his hand and led him into the living room. If she thought about it, it was a concise thing, but difficult to assimilate. Eren sat down on the sofa. She made him coffee and moved to his side, maturing the words in her head. "It's complicated. If you don't believe it, I get it. I’ve spent more time in Cuba than in Martinique. I haven’t done any study about Gauguin."

"What?" Eren looked at her seriously. "What's going on, Mikasa?"

"I've been working for Interpol for a couple of years. No one knows, only you. Crimes against cultural heritage."

"I don’t get it. What does that have to do with Martinique and Cuba?"

"During Nazism many degenerate works were plundered. Gauguin, Chagall, Klee... Some works were located last year. There was a certain black market for art among many American magnates. That is why I went to Cuba together with a team, to find out the whereabouts of some Gauguin works lost since 38."

"It’s definitely more interesting than winning the Premier." Eren drank from his mug thoughtfully, still amazed. "Was it dangerous?"

"Not much. At least not for me. My job is to see, evaluate and give a verdict, not shooting. Do you think I'm out there drinking Martini and driving an Aston Martin?"

"The idea excites me." The man touched the scar on her face. "And this? I don't remember it. It’s not on the maps that I have of your whole body."

"Then you will have to add it." Mikasa took the cup from him, put it on the table and leaned against him, kissing him calmly and sweetly. For a moment she thought she would never see him again, or maybe he would see her repatriated corpse with a bullet in the head. God! She hugged him and rested her head on his heart. Eren stroked her hair and she trembled at the memory. "It was a shot. I don't know how I'm still alive. I was so lucky..."

"My God," Eren whispered. "Why did you not tell me? Don’t trust me?"

"I know you. Worry wouldn't let you focus."

"Of course not. And now that I know why you left, it will take me a few weeks to recover from my fright. Damn, it hurt so much when you answered my messages as if nothing... I wanted to tell you about my feelings, but you always talked about trivial issues and I thought you didn't care what happened between us. Why?"

"I was scared. I didn't want to think about you or our plans. What would have happened to all those words if I had died? Look at this scar. It’s a miracle I’m still alive. It happened a few days after arriving. It shouldn't have happened, but it did. A rich man held a clandestine exhibition, I infiltrated and they discovered me. I didn't want to tell you that I love you and then die. I don't do things that way."

"And how do you do it?"

"Like this." Mikasa kissed him again.

#eremika #Eren Jaeger #Mikasa Ackerman #eren x mikasa #zeke jaeger #snk #shingeki no kyojin #AoT #attackontitan #fanfic

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grootpoepjeplasjehoofd · 4 years

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I’m reading Markus Wolf’s memoirs and I absolutely love his description of growing up in Moscow but also that rapid shift in tone omfg

We adjusted slowly to a strange language and culture, fearful of the harsh manners of the children who shared our courtyard. “Nemets, perets, kolbassa, kislaya kapusta,” they would shout after us: “Germans—pepper, sausage, sauerkraut.” They laughed at our short trousers, too, and we begged our mother for long ones. Finally she gave in with a sigh, saying, “You’re proper little men now.”

But we were soon fascinated by our new environment. After our provincial German childhood, the bustling city, with its rough and ready ways, thrilled us. In those days people still spat the husks of their sunflower seeds onto the pavement, and horse-drawn traps clattered through the street. Moscow was still a “big village,” a city with peasant ways. At first we attended the German Karl Liebknecht School (a school for children of German-speaking parents, named after the Socialist leader of the January 1919 Spartacist uprising, who was murdered in Berlin shortly thereafter), then later, a Russian high school. By the time we became teenagers we were barely distinguishable from our native schoolmates, for we spoke their colloquial Russian with Moscow accents. We had two special friends in George and Victor Fischer, sons of the American journalist Louis Fischer. It was they who gave me the nickname “Mischa,” which has stuck ever since. My brother Koni, anxious not to be left out, took the Russian diminutive “Kolya.”

The Moscow of the thirties remains in my memory as an era of light and shadow. The city changed before our eyes. By now I was a rather serious teenage boy and no longer thought of Stalin as a magician. But as the new multistory apartment blocks soon appeared around the Kremlin, and the amount of traffic suddenly increased as black sedans replaced the pony traps, it was as if someone had waved a powerful wand and turned the Moscow of the past into a futuristic landscape. The elegant metro, with its Art Deco lamps and giddyingly steep escalators, hummed into life, and we would spend the afternoons after school exploring its vaults, which echoed like a vast underground church. The disastrous food shortage of the twenties abated, but despite the new buildings, my family’s friends, mainly Russian intellectuals, lived cheek by jowl in tiny apartments. There were spectacular May Day parades. The exciting news of the day carried highlights of the age like the daring recovery of the Chelyushkin expedition from the pack ice of the Arctic Ocean after its conquest of the North Pole. We followed these events with the enthusiasm that Western children devoted to their favorite football or baseball teams.

With similar passion Koni and I both joined the Soviet Young Pioneers— the Communist equivalent o f the Boy Scouts—and learned battle songs about the class struggle and the Motherland. As Young Pioneers we marched in the great November display on Red Square commemorating the Soviet revolution, shouting slogans of praise for the tiny figure in an overcoat on the balustrade above Lenin’s tomb. We spent our weekends in the countryside around Moscow, gathering berries and mushrooms because even as a city dweller our father was determined to preserve his nature worship as a way of life. I still missed German delicacies, though, and found the sparse Soviet diet, with its mainstays of buckwheat porridge and sour yogurt, desperately boring. Since then I have learned to love Russian food in all its variety, and if must say so, I make the best Pelmeni dumplings (stuffed with forcemeat) this side of Siberia. But I have never developed a great fondness for buckwheat porridge, probably as a result of having consumed tons of the stuff in my teens.

In summer I was dispatched to Pioneer camp and elevated to the role of leader. I wrote to my father complaining about the miserable gruel and military discipline that prevailed there. Back came a typically optimistic letter, bidding me to resist the regime by forming a commission with my fellow children. “Tell them that Comrade Stalin and the Party do not condone such waste. Quality is what counts.. . . Under no circumstances must you, as a good Pioneer and especially as a Pioneer leader, quarrel! You and the other group leaders should speak collectively with the administration. . . Don’t be despondent, my boy.”

The Soviet Union was now our only home, and on my sixteenth birthday, in 1939, I received my first Soviet papers. Father wrote to me from Paris, “Now you are a real citizen of the Soviet people,” which made me glow with pride. But as I grew older I realized that my father’s infectious utopianism was not my natural leaning. I was of a more pragmatic temperament. Of course, it was an exhilarating time, but it was also the era of the purges, in which men who had been feted as heroes of the Revolution were wildly accused of crimes and often condemned to death or to imprisonment in the Arctic camps. The net cast by the NKVD—the secret police and precursor of the KGB—closed in on our emigre friends and acquaintances. It was confusing, obscure, and inexplicable to us youngsters, schooled in the tradition of belief in the Soviet Union as the beacon of progress and humanitarianism.

But children are sensitive to silences and evasions, and we were subliminally aware that we were not party to the whole truth about our surroundings. Many of our teachers disappeared during the purges of 1936-38. Our special German school was closed. We children noticed that adults never spoke of people who had “disappeared” in front of their families, and we automatically began to respect this bizarre courtesy ourselves.Not until years later would we face up to the extent and horror of the crimes and Stalin’s personal responsibility for them. Back then, he was a leader, a father figure, his square-jawed, mustached face staring out like that of a visionary from the portrait on our schoolroom wall. The man and his works were beyond reproach, beyond question for us. In 1937, when the murder machine was running at its most terrifyingly efficient, one of our family’s acquaintances, Wilhelm Wloch, who had risked his life working for the Comintern in the underground in Germany and abroad, was arrested. His last words to his wife were “Comrade Stalin knows nothing of this.”

Of course, our parents tried to keep from us their fears about the bloodletting. In their hearts and minds, the Soviet Union remained, through all their doubts and disappointments, “the first socialist country” they had so proudly told us about after their first visit in 1931.

My father, I now know, was fearful for his own life. Although his wife and children had been granted Soviet citizenship because we lived there, he spent much of his time abroad and so was not a citizen. He was, however, still able to travel on his German passport, even though his citizenship had been revoked. He had already applied for permission from the Soviet authorities to leave Moscow for Spain, where he wanted to serve as a doctor in the International Brigades fighting against General Franco’s Fascists in the bitter Civil War there. Spain was the arena where the Nazi military tried out its deadly potential, practicing for its later aggression against other vulnerable powers. Throughout Europe, left-wing volunteers were flooding to the aid of the Republicans against the Spanish military insurgents. For many in the Soviet Union, fighting there also meant a ticket out of the Soviet Union and away from the oppressive atmosphere of the purges. Decades later, a reliable friend of the family told me that my father had said of his attempts to reach Spain: “I’m not going to wait around here until they arrest me.” That revelation wounded me, even as a grown man, for it made me realize how many worries and reservations had been hidden from us children by our parents in the thirties, and how much sorrow must have been quietly harvested around us among many of our friends in Moscow.

My father never did reach Spain. For a year, his application for an exit visa lay unanswered. More and more of our friends and acquaintances in the German community had disappeared and my parents could no longer hide their anguish. When the doorbell rang unexpectedly one night, my usually calm father leapt to his feet and let out a violent curse. When it emerged that the visitor was only a neighbor intent on borrowing something, he regained his savoir-faire, but his hands trembled for a good half hour.

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missholson · 4 years

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SHIP HISTORY MEME

Embrace your past and get to know your friends’ fandom origins!

Rules: Post gifs of your fandoms / ships starting with your most current hyperfixation and work backwards. (Bonus points if you share any stories about how or when you got into that ship! But not necessary!!) Then tag anyone whose fandom history you’d like to learn about!

Tagged by the sweet @unwillingadventurer, thank you girls! <3

Hoffmann & Tennstedt (Das Boot) The baby face & the stone face. :) The biggest reason for this series is my sister, who tried to lure me into the fandom already last summer by showing the first episode. Sadly it was a far too distressing experience. The story is about a WW2 German warfare, so it isn’t very light entertainment for Saturday night. The show seemed like a worth watching production, though, but I doubted if I could ever watch it completely. After visiting Berlin now in February 2020 there was no hesitation anymore. The story focuses on the Nazi German submarine, U-612, and the occupied city of La Rochelle in France. However, not everything is as black and white as one might expect. One of the biggest messages of the show is that war is always brutal, no matter which side you fight. The innocent are always suffering. It also shows how the ideal thoughts of warfare crumble, if it comes at the cost of greed, deception, health or life. There is disagreement among the leaders on boat, too. The new commander, kaleun Klaus Hoffmann, is young and inexperienced but kind-hearted and wise. Next on the scale, IWO Karl Tennstedt, is an experienced sailor and an glory-seeking soldier, who envies Hoffamann's position. He regards Hoffmann as incompetent and a disgrace to Germany. So, there is plenty of tension between these two!

Louis & Philippe (Versailles) I started watching the show sometime in 2015, but found it quite distasteful. It was more brutal than expected, and I was overwhelmed by people's greed and dirty behavior, so I stopped watching after a few episodes. Every now and then I saw pics/gifs on Tumblr, especially of Monsieur and Chevalier, that I finally wanted to give another chance in January 2020. This time the experience was the opposite, and I got a better grip on the story. I was surprised how little I liked the popular Monchevy pair and, instead, so much the quarreling brothers. I was very moved when they joked with each other and showed brotherly love. In the scenes of conflict, I missed their compassion. I haven't watched the rest of seasons 2-3 yet, so I don't know if they get better. I hope so because together they would be a powerful duo.

Matt & Cherry (Red River) I had recorded Red River (1948) on my set-top box, and the closing date was expiring in December 2018. It was Montgomery Clift’s breakthrough movie, so it was a must see. The movie was a refreshingly different western, where the hero is not a macho cowboy and John Wayne a bad guy for a change. But most of all, I was amazed how Cherry Valance's behavior towards Matt Garth was so heavily double entendre. At first they are presented as challengers and opponents of each other. Slowly Cherry starts to show admiration for Matt, and increasingly talks about his gun. In return, Matt needs Cherry's shooting skills to herd cattle. Eventually they become each other's trusted ones. I always find it fascinating, if tension begins to develop between the opposing characters. If the story has a couple that doesn't change, develope or lacks dynamics, it probably won't arouse interest.

Fritz & Dr. Frankenstein (Frankenstein) I had seen a Tumblr gif of Renfield crawling in Dracula (1931) in August 2018. It was Dwight Frye’s breakthrough role. The movie inspired me to watch other Universal monster movies, of which Frankenstein (1931) became my favorite. The work pair of the story, these two outcasts of society, melted my heart. For unexplained reason they have joined their forces and seem to be working well together. They have a mutual partnership, where they can act naturally without fear. Their work is unique, e.g. digging the graves or snatching hanged bodies, but they treat it like any other dayily job. Somehow, I like this way of approach. Actually I have written about Fritz already earlier, where I take a closer look at their relationship. The text can be read here.

Adrian & Antony (Sebastiane) Well, this couple is a specialty of its own. They are another ones found through Tumblr. I saw a picture of them in June 2018 which led me to watch the film. In terms of story or acting, it's not a very special movie but technically professional level. First of all, it was shot under the blazing Sicilian sun on 35 mm film. The light is a vital factor when using a film camera, so the pictures look very rich. The scenes, where these two are having fun together in slow motion, are breathtaking. I had never seen anything like it before and, in my opinion, stole all the attention of the story since they were just characters in supporting roles. It was like a gay paradise on earth. Here I realize the importance in the way how the characters are presented. The technical presentation can play a surprisingly huge role when we try to read and understand the characters. It can influence us either to share their thoughts or to move even further away from them. Bonus points I give for Latin, which the entire cast is speaking in the film. I would also like to clarify that this is not a p**n movie or a family movie either. It’s a gay erotic story with some full frontal nudity.

Reinhold & Conrad I’m not sure if this is a ship or fandom, but I feel extreme warmth and joy for this pair (the Berlin trip may have something to do with this). They are also the only people from real life instead of characters. I’d like to share my story about them, unfortunately it's very long (I've never been a fluent writer) but explains my interest in more detail. I got to know Conrad Veidt already in high school at the turn of the millennium, the time before DVDs. Near the school there was a buy-sell-exchange movie shop, where my sister and I visited regularly. Somehow we ended up with the idea that we wanted to see The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (1920), so we went to the store again. There was no copy, as expected, but the seller said he would keep in mind if one came up. Months passed and after a long break we visited our regular place again. This time, the man had news for us: he had received a copy and kept it in safe for us. We couldn’t believe our eyes and ears. First of all, the kindness of the man made us speechless, and secondly, we never thought we would get our own copy of such popular rarity. At that time movies were not re-released as often as they are today. It was a VHS cassette, bw, not tinted like the original version, and its quality was far from the 4K richness and sharpness. My sister still has the tape and is one of the treasures she will never give away. For years the film was the only Conrad movie we saw, along with Casablanca - until the digital age and the social media arrived. Again I have to thank Tumblr, where I found the actor Anton Walbrook. One of his most famous films, Viktor und Viktoria (1933), is directed by Reinhold Schünzel, whom I knew from Conrad's film Different from the Others (1919). I began to study Reinhold's background more closely in December 2017, and it turned out that he is a forgotten multi-talent in the film industry: He was a versatile performer in comedies and dramas, a prolific director and an idea-rich screenwriter. He had an eye for creating stories that were told in the minds of people in addition to acting and lines. He questioned gender roles and built juicy plot twists around them. He loved theater and was a popular celebrity in 1920’s Germany. He was also a colleague and friend of Conrad. They began their film careers at the same time in Richard Oswald's films, shared the ups and downs, even their wardrobe, and reached fame. Eventually they both had to emigrate from the national socialist Germany, so their paths parted. The following reunions were always a joy, “like the meeting of comrades who fought in many wars together”. Reinhold was supposed to direct Conrad’s first film at MGM in Hollywood, but the plans were changed. They never got to work together since the German years, when Conrad died suddenly. “Part of my life is gone forever”, as Reinhold wrote in his tribute to Connie's death in 1943. He returned to Germany in the end of 1940s and died in Munich in 1954. This is why they are so precious to me and why I find it important to share the memory of these two lifelong friends. The picture is from Eerie Tales (1919), one of their earliest movies together with the director: Reinhold, Richard and Conrad. Reinhold’s full tribute can be read here.

I’m tagging: @wohlbruecks, @perfides-subjekt, @kennyboybarrett, @chapinfan69, @electricnormanbates, @ars-historia-est, @suchamiracle-does-exist and anyone who likes to do it. Would you like to share your stories behind your otps? :)

#tag post #ship history meme #ships & fandoms #personal #many thanks for posting this #unwillingadventurer #this was so much fun to do #it gave a much needed break to the situation we are living atm #i guess that’s why the text became so long sorry for that #i had to write it in finnish first #in order to get a proper structure #these are my current ships/fandoms #bbc sherlock & johnlock was the reason i ever started on here #own post

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tracyk13 · 4 years

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36 and what a world I have seen

Honestly I’ve been terrible at journalling lately. Love handwriting in quill and ink style, but my current life leaves me exhausted after work and most of my time spent in education. But currently the Covid-19 pandemic made me consider the important world events I have witnessed.

Born in 1984 I lived in a world of rapidly changing technology but still being forced outside to play. We always had an Apple computer in our house for as long as I can remember. Played the Oregon Trail in black and white, then in color. That was the standard computer game of my childhood. Mom got us Mario Teaches Typing, probably the only “video game” I ever played at that point. AOL was a thing. All those CDs in the mail with updates. I never really got into it, but my twin sister did.

Also a child of the Disney Golden Age of animation. Dramatically influenced my life to the point I went to work for Walt Disney World after college. Still a Disney fanatic to this day.

Apparently my family visited Yellowstone National park (age 4? too young to remember anyway) then not too long after the park had the fire.

Was alive though not conscious of world events when the Berlin Wall fell. Watch the birth of CNN during the first Desert Storm when my dad was there overseeing some of the first drone flights. The military required a pilot on hand for those flights. He told us later how some Iraqis would surrender to the drone plane, not that it was ever one of the ones he supervised. And according to my mom I frequently asked to NOT watch the 24 hour stream of news because it was too depressing and I knew that’s where dad was.

Really started to pay attention to news (not that l enjoyed it but that’s the timeline for how chidden develop) during the O.J. Simpson trial.

By that point I had lived on both coasts of the USA, crossed country twice, lived in many different environments from Washington’s cold wet seasons to California’s deserts California’s coast to landlocked suburbia of Georgia.

Where I learned to drive, had a single Nokia phone for me and my twin in our tiny Cabrio convertible (I hate convertibles). Got a personal computer for the first time, where before it was a single family computer. The iMacs were coming out right when we were heading to college. My sister got the desktop, I got the laptop and have never looked back. Still have my gumstick shuffle iPod floating around and it still works.

Got to watch the insanity of Indecision 2000 and appreciate political humor for the first time.

I’ve been to 9 different schools for 12 years of school, not including college. That would make it ten. Was a freshman in high school when the Columbine shootings happened. Some weeks later we had a pipe bomb threat at our school which forced all the students out to the football field. From the top of the bleachers we could see the bomb squad and their dogs entering the school. All I could think of was if someone really wanted to kill at lot of people, there on the bleachers would be the place to do it. Then at some point in my adult life someone did it at a movie theater showing The Dark Knight.

Saw the images of the Oklahoma City bombing. Heard about the Unabomber. Watched the Waco Texas incident.

But my senior year was the time of 9/11. My math class was out in the hallway doing a math related science type experiment, can’t tell you what it was. But that day was the only day I have ever heard a school of nearly 5,000 students absolutely silent during class change. Thus Desert Storm part two happened.

Right before I headed off to college. So I wasn’t super savvy about applying to colleges. I only applied to one. Didn’t have a clue as to what I wanted to do with my life. I’ve done a wide variety of sports, been writing fiction since at least 10 years old, drew and painted fairly well, thought about doing animation or architecture (did a semester learning thing with a local firm, decided it wasn’t for me).

Ended up getting a degree in two foreign languages but not fluent in either. It did greatly improve my understanding of the English language. And I had the privilege of an exchange program for a school year to Japan, plus of study abroad summer to Germany. Would never regret any of that. Even if it didn’t get me a degree that got me a job.

Instead I went to Disney World as part of their internship program. Been in foods and hospitality for a significant portion of my life (thus far). Loved working there. Got to work with the Characters and it was fabulous. Even with the frustrations of all work environments.

But it couldn’t last. Minimum wage was raised, but the cost of living out stripped the earnings for a single person living alone. Prompting a move back home with parents to get another degree. Then the Housing bubble burst, loans defaulted, mortgage crisis, resulting in the Great Recession. It did get me a house in my name but basically an income property for my mom as her inheritance from my grandmother. All the while I’m going to school to be a nurse.

Now let’s not forget about the many weather crises I’ve witnessed via the news. Hurricanes Katrina, Sandy, Harvey, Maria to name the ones I easily remember. The Class 5 tornado that wiped out a midwestern town. The volcano in Iceland rerouting planes. The tsunami in Indonesia and Sumatra. The massive earthquake in Haiti. These are only the ones that easily come to mind without researching what happened during the years I’ve been alive.

Not to mention the diseases that I’ve seen via the news. First to mind was the Ebola outbreak while I was in nursing school. Saw the hype on the Swine Flue, SARS, Avian flu to name a few easily remembered. Those never reached me personally. Now it’s Covid-19 unfolding. Called SARS-CoV-19 now, but that later.

But its not all disasters. Went to the Atlanta Centennial Olympics still have the t-shirt. Was alive during the first black president.

Took part in the massive phenomena that was Harry Potter and still love it to this day. It showed me that fiction/fantasy could be a mainstream genre to write for. I started writing FanFiction at that time to fill in the long spaces between books. Started when fan fiction.net had the 7or 8 main characters to choose from for tagging. It was like the Wild West of figuring out what you were about to read. Learned about Slash, yaoi, lemons and such the hard way. But being exposed to it that way did open my eyes to what goes on in other people’s heads. Knew immediately that just because I didn’t like something didn't mean I had to hate on it. I left it alone once found and kept going. Really helped increase my tolerance to other cultures and thoughts.

Met my best friend on a role playing site and we wrote nonstop during our college years. Went to her wedding, have a lovely Renaissance style dress as a bridesmaid gift. Still am in touch with her. We don’t write together any more as we have moved in our lives with adulting. But I still have all those stories and hope to turn them into something.

Had my first camera cell phone in Japan as just a basic free phone. Was shocked to find cameras in the States were not standard. One of my friends in Japan kept doing selfies before they were called selfies. Blind positioning of the camera for pictures. Then came the iPhone and the world never looked back.

Joined Facebook when it required a college email. Used MSN messenger and Yahoo messenger to communicate with people around the world. Didn’t join the Twitter or Tumblr movement until after they became established. Saw the boom and bust of the Dot.Com bubble. Watched the Dow Jones numbers increase without the income to invest the way they said to.

Lived right above the poverty line during the Recession. Not knowing if I could make it the next month. Never being able to claim poverty on the tax forms. Caught in the income dead space of not being able to afford health insurance from the markets but in a state that didn’t allow for Medicaid expansion.

But I do not have the worry now thankfully.

Jobs wise I’ve been a telemarketer, dishwasher, a line cook, a hostess, server, janitor, assistant manager, and now I’m a nurse. I started on med/surg, ED, Cardiac, and ICU. In a small rural hospital getting smaller in a time when rural were shutting down because of no funding. They serve areas with a high rates of unemployment, uninsured, drug and alcohol abuse.

Worked at a busier hospital were no bed was left empty. Sicker patients. Work in a mid-size place. Some days super busy, some slower.

Covid-19 had the affect of somehow doing both. First few days was almost empty, now it fluctuates. Mostly rule outs. And the protocols are changing hourly which makes life frustrating for us. It’s the constant unspoken threat of going into work not knowing if you’ll have the right equipment to do the job. I’m not scared of the virus itself, not even of the collapse of the economy. I’m scared of the surge that will put my coworkers at risk.

I live alone (my little sister lives with me now) so very little contact with others. But they have kids and a much closer physical distance to their older parents. I know I will add days to my weeks if they have to stay out for any length of time.

So this is the first time a world event as truly affected me. It is a terrifying time which prompted this summary of my life so far.

I went into a restaurant and saw no one. I never thought I’d see that day. I don’t want people to loose their income, but if people were to go about their daily activities we would loose so many in one go. All I can do is my job.

The more I watch the more depressed and stressed. At work is worse.

I’m teaching myself a new craft because of this. I have taken up leather working to make masks. It helps the creativity outlet. I started drawing class early in 2020 and was set to continue drawing and add painting when the social distancing started. I admit it felt overblown in the beginning. Now the numbers are changing rapidly and we are really seeing what happens in close communities. Just keep working. It’s part of life now. No matter how much if feels like a movie plot line.

But back to other things I’ve seen.

LGTBQA and others coming into the forefront of society. Saw legalization of gay marriage. Quite thrilled with that.

Didn’t hear the term Asexual in reference to a sexual preference until my early 20s. Immediately recognized similar stories to me. Never had an interest in sex or having a partner. A name did make things more relatable, but I will never fully understand people who seem to base their entire existence on their sexual preference.

I’ve been call sir many times based on how I dress. I still sound like a female. Can’t fault anyone for using the appropriate pronoun for what they see in front of them. But that’s a culture that’s growing. Preferred pronouns. But I have to admit that an online friend referred to me as “they” despite a lady being in my username and it felt nice. So in honor of the Special Snowflake term that floated around, I’m an nonbinary aromantic asexual. Probably with a fem-romanitic leaning.

Saw the rise of the Millennials. I’m caught between Gen X and the Millennials. Now that all the Millennials are of age to vote, perhaps change is underway?

I’m back in college for my 3rd and then 4th degree. In nursing. Online. Watching the world combat a virus.

A US that is split down the middle politically. A world with more pollution problems than we can handle. Governments preferring to coverup mistakes and corruption than help their citizens. The term Public Servant is obviously not taken seriously in some places. See Flint, MI and their water. Lobbyists creating bills that benefit corporations rather than people. Politicians that never retire and keep getting lucrative reelection donations from those very corporations.

The rise of narcotic drug use, prescription drugs. Pill mills.

Sex scandals taking center stage in the news rather than things that actually affect daily life. Among things I will never understand is the fear of Transgender women in the women’s restrooms when it was always a straight conservative man who was the center of all these sex scandals.

Asexual brain at work. I simply do not understand. Conclusion: If you look like a certain gender, you’ll most often be treated as that gender.

What I do miss were the kid shows and cartoons in the 90s. They were super progressive with great literature themes. I knew the story of some of the greatest classic literature simply by the references in those shows.

Also the era of War on Drug commercials. Recycling promoted.

My favorite: Captain Planet. Not only was it pushing for a cleaner earth it had different nationalities. Stereotypical, but a far better representation than what I am seeing in kids shows today. It was diverse in that multiple skin tones were seen on screen together rather than specific skin tones marketed to that specific demographic. Now I do like how many more cultures are represented, I just want them shown in ways where color and culture is not the primary focus.

It also surged a desire to protect the planet. The knowledge that we need clean water and air. Educational shows like Magic School Bus and Bill Nye explained what is happening in the environment long before Global Warming became political. With the global shut in we see the world cleansing itself.

Now the marijuana legalization issue. No one has died from overdosing on weed. Unlike Alcohol. Yes smoke isn’t good for your health like cigarettes, but the complications are not as prevalent, well studied, or as life threatening with what is known. The disconnect of state legalization and national illegalities is mind blowing. I hope to see that break so we can study it.

Overall I know I have seen a lot of historical events and I hope to live another 36 plus years to see more. 3 decades, the change of a century and the change of the millennia. Y2K hysteria included.

The world is changing. The outcome is unknown. Peace be upon us all.

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melodiouswhite · 4 years

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Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde rewritten - Ch. 46

46. The confession of Lady Summers (tw: violence, gore, human experimentation)

“I was born to a Prussian margrave and a Hanoverian princess. I will skip over how they met and married both for love and political advantages, and just tell you that I received both of their titles as a birthday gift.

My mother's father became king of Hanover two years after I was born, my father's father succeeded his own father when I was five.

Apart from my grandfathers' coronations, which I attended with my parents, my early childhood was very uneventful. My grandfathers, ambiguous as their political stances were, were most kind to me and I remember them fondly.

At the age of six I realised that I could hear what other people think and read their minds.

I distinctly remember that my father was very ecstatic, when he found out, that I had supernatural abilities like him. My mother wasn't as happy, but she never said anything.

It was, like I said, an uneventful life.

But all of this was ruined, shortly after I turned ten years old.

How could I ever forget that day?

I was playing outside with my father's dogs and suddenly a group of strangers appeared out of nowhere. There was no greeting, no explanation. I was just seized by the arms and someone choked me, before I could scream for help.

When I awoke, I was in a cold, white room, chained to a bed like a madwoman and there were strange men in bloodied aprons standing around me.

To say that I was terrified is an understatement.

I asked them where my parents were and they told me that they weren't here and would never find me. They told me that they knew of my abilities and called me an 'interesting specimen'.

My clothes were taken away and instead I was given a white hospital gown. They took my name away and called me 'test subject 37', before locking me alone into a cell, like I was a patient in a lunatic asylum.

For the first days I was left alone, except for the 'doctors', who came in and asked me a lot of strange questions. But their thoughts frightened me and my parents had already taught me not to trust strangers, so I refused to answer a single one. There was that one man, who tried to bribe me out of silence with sweets. As you can imagine, it didn't work, because I didn't want sweets, I wanted my parents!

I tried anything to make them let me go home, I threw tantrums, cried, appealed, begged, screamed until my voice was gone … it was for naught.

One morning a tall doctor came into my cell, a man with mouse blond hair and the cruellest eyes I've ever seen in my entire life. He told me that they would experiment on me. I didn't know what that meant, but that man radiated nothing but evil and heartlessness, so it couldn't be good.

Strange appendages were attached to my head and chest, I still don't know what they were good for.

Somehow he managed to manipulate me into using my abilities, by making me tell him facts about him that only he knew. His name was Prof. Dr. Wilhelm Weisshand and he was extremely interested in the supernatural, its influence on people and how it could be exploited for scientific purposes. He was taking notes the entire time we were talking to each other.

This went on for a few days.

And then came the torture.

I was tied to a board, while they injected small amounts of strange substances into my body. They tried countless different samples and all the while they took notes on how it was affecting me.

Some of the chemicals didn't do anything to me or made me feel a little funny at best.

But then they moved on to stronger things. The doses were very low, but it was enough to send a ten-year-old girl into spirals of agony. One of them made my arm go numb and turn blue. First they wanted to amputate it, but after a few days it returned back to normal, so they kept experimenting.

But one time they came with a strange green liquid and somehow it made me squirm more, before it had even been injected.

The pain was immense, as if my veins and inner organs were being disintegrated by acid.

At some point I passed out from the pain.

In the weeks following I became gravely ill. I'm surprised it didn't happen earlier.

After about a month, I heard them talk about having to operate on my body. I was too weak to struggle, when they came with the ether to sedate me.

I don't know how much ether was in the cloth they knocked me out with, but it definitely wasn't enough.

I woke up … during the surgery.

I can't and won't go into detail about what I saw, but the agony! The unimaginable agony! The mortal fear, the pain, I thought I was going to-

I'm sorry. The memory just … give me a moment to compose myself. Maybe a glass of water … thank you, Marie. I think I can go on now.

I'm pretty sure I did almost die. The shock, blood loss, infection, gangrene, anything could have killed me that day. Truth be told, I don't know how I'm still alive.

I slowly recovered afterwards, but then I asked one of the doctors, what exactly they had done to me. He said that apparently the last substance had done something to my body and they had to operate to 'save' me. Then he left briefly and returned to show me a glass, containing … well, you've seen where the surgical scar is, so I think you can guess what it was.

I was too young to understand.

He told me that it meant that I would never have children.

You know, gentlemen, like many other girls I dreamed of having a big family, lots of adorable little children surrounding me, a loving husband by my side and my father with a grandchild on each knee.

But when that man's words sank in … that this dream would never come true … in addition to all the things they had done to me … I think that was the breaking point.

I completely lost my will to live. I just stopped eating and drinking to the point, where they had to force feed me. I didn't even care anymore, I was dead on the inside.

Then I was transferred to another cell, where three other prisoners were kept, a married couple from France and a younger man from Switzerland. We became friends quickly. They were so sweet to me and after a while I recovered just enough to eat again. If I told you their names, there is no way you would believe me, but let's just say I was a strange girl in even stranger company.

In the time that followed, our tormentors didn't experiment on me, just supervised my recovery.

I'm quite sure they would have experimented on me further, but then a miracle happened – no, not the kind of miracle where an angel appears with a blinding halo. No.

My suffering companions had friends, who were strong enough to break into the facility and get them out.

When they finally found us and saw me, they liberated me as well and brought me home.

I don't have to describe the bittersweetness of my return.

My father offered my saviours a considerable reward, but they refused. They gave him their address though, in case we would need them.

I'm still in contact with them. They even moved here about ten years ago, perhaps I can introduce you one day. You would like them. They're entirely bonkers, but lovable in their way.

I didn't tell my parents everything that had happened, only bits. I was scared that they would lose their minds otherwise, if they even believed me at all. But what I told them was enough to ruin my mother's health. She became very sick and was confined to the bed for her remaining years.

My father on the other hand became obsessed with me learning to defend myself, so he went out of his way to find someone who was willing to teach a little girl how to fight.

It was like a Prussian military drill, really.

When I was twelve, my mother passed away, just two months before the Revolution of 1848 broke out. Not that I ever cared about the latter.

In hindsight, I should have, but it's too late now.

All the while my father was travelling around, doing his duty as a diplomat – and having affairs along the line, because that's how he was.

Three years later my dear grandfather Ernest passed away and left the throne to his son, my uncle. I didn't care three straws about him, so I never set foot into Hanover again after grandfather's funeral.

After that my father took me along on his journeys to distract me from my grief.

Shortly after I turned seventeen we visited Weimar, because our old friends had moved there.

We met them and spent an enjoyable time together.

Sadly, none of us knew that the organisation that had kidnapped me at ten was also operating in that city. Sure enough, one morning I had to go somewhere alone and was promptly kidnapped. Again. Yes, seriously.

This time I was spared the hazardous surgeries, but they injected more dubious chemicals into my body and … I think some of them were blood samples? I'm not entirely sure.

Anyway, at this point I was more angry than scared – don't get me wrong, I was still terrified – and mocked and insulted them relentlessly to make myself feel better.

Fortunately I didn't have to suffer another two months of torment this time. My father asked our friends for help, who found and saved me just two weeks later.

After that we left Germany – with grandpa Friedrich Wilhelm's permission, of course – and that was my first actual world journey.

In England we were welcomed by my mother's cousin – Her Majesty, Queen Victoria herself. Somehow she took a liking to us and we were granted British citizenship. Through the years we made one more journey and after the second one, my father finally found someone, who was willing to marry his sterile daughter – my darling copperhead James, God rest his soul.

Shortly after the engagement, we received a cable from Berlin and hurried there as fast as we could.

We just came in time to say goodbye to my grandfather Friedrich and inform him of my engagement, before he passed away.

After that we left Germany behind and settled in England for good.

The rest you know, gentlemen.

You know, I am happier here in England than I would have been in my birth country.

And for the last twenty-five years, I have felt safe here.

I thought that here I wouldn't have to face my past. But now it's back to haunt me.

I think you noticed how paranoid and on edge I have been lately.

It's because of them.

They're here in England.

Looking for new test subjects.

At first I thought it was just an obsessive stalker, but then I caught someone spying on me, while I took a nightly walk. It was one of them, I knew it as soon as I heard his thoughts. He recognised me. He remembered that I once had been test subject 37.

I lost it, shot him in the arm and Dr. Lanyon can confirm, that after that I came banging on his door.

It's funny, really. All this … this horror happened forty and thirty-three years ago and I'm now fifty years old.

I thought that I would be over it, that I wasn't scared anymore.

But, as you have clearly seen, I was wrong. Wait no, scratch that. I was just in denial.

I'm like the frightened, sobbing child I was back then.

And this is it, gentlemen.

This is the tale of Lady Luise Summers. My tragic backstory, if you will.

I didn't want to tell you, because you all have your own emotional baggage and I feared, that bearing mine as well would be too much for you.

If you don't want to have anything to do with me anymore, I understand that, even though it would make me more than sad.

All I ask of you, gentlemen, is that you don't tell a single soul about what you just heard.”

#The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde #oc #friedrich wilhelm iv (mentioned)#ernest augustus I of hanover (mentioned)#tw: violence #tw: gore #tw: human experimentation #lady summers needs a hug

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pythagoreanwhump · 5 years

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1981 - Pt. 1

This is part one of how my espionage OCs met each other. As suggested in the title, this is set in 1981. It’ll be at least 3 parts, but I don’t know exactly how many yet. In Part 1 Anton and Walter have met each other. David has been mentioned to them but they haven’t met yet. This small series won’t contain any whump, just setting up the relationship between my characters. Well, that’s the plan, anyway. I always find ways to put whump into things that shouldn’t be whump.

As I said, no whump, really tame, so no content warnings, but I’ll still put it under a read more for length

also some of the dialogue is in German. Translations underneath the paragraph in brackets and italics.

“Andrushin, I’ve got a new mission for you.” Melya knocked on the door, dragging Anton out of his trance of staring at the same page of his book for the past 20 minutes. “What are you thinking about?”

Anton shrugged and didn’t answer Melya’s question, responding to his first statement instead. “What mission? Where?”

“Why don’t you have a guess?” Melya had a smile that told Anton he wasn’t going to like whatever it was.

“I’m gonna have to leave the country, aren’t I?” Anton hopped off his bunk bed, already starting to pack.

“Yep. West Germany this time.”

“West Germany?” Anton asked. “Why? What’s in West Germany?” Americans, that’s what. Swathes of American soldiers in nightclubs.

“Your mission is to help train an East German spy. Be nice to him, will you? It’s his first assignment.” Melya handed Anton a file.

Anton groaned, the loudness mostly for dramatics in front of Melya. “Kids. I hate kids.”

Melya pulled Anton’s briefcase away from him and pointed to the file. “He’s only about a year younger than you. You’d know that if you read the case file. You never do until I force you to.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” Anton rolled his eyes at Melya and flipped through the file about this Walter. “Who’s this?” He asked as he reached the last page.

Melya peeked over. “Ah, that. That’s supposed to be his target, an American soldier at Ramstein Air Base named David Whitley. You don’t get much information about him because it’s supposed to be Walter’s mission, not yours. All you need to do is keep him out of trouble. I have no idea why they chose you for this, you can barely keep yourself out of trouble.”

Anton reached over, trying to take his suitcase back and continue packing, but Melya pulled it further away from him. “No need to pack yourself,” He said, “Clothes have been provided for you. You’ll get it when you arrive in Bonn. In the meantime,” Melya gave Anton an outfit, “You’ll wear this. You’ll arrive in Berlin first and meet with Walter, and then drive to the West together. A hotel room has already been booked for you, Walter will know how to get there.”

“A hotel room?” Anton asked incredulously as he put on the outfit. It was loose, a sporty T-shirt and jeans. He was using his usual cover again, a university student, and he looked the part dressed like this.

“Es gibt keine Hungersnot,” Melya said with a dry chuckle. “You’re going there on a cargo plane, wheels up in 20 minutes.”

(There is no famine. An East German expression used sarcastically when people talk about how poor the government is. It actually surfaced into use more near 1986-ish but I don’t really care right now)

Walter stood near the border gate nervously, waiting for the Soviet agent he was supposed to work with. Despite having worked at the border crossing for over a year, he has never left his country. If what he was taught growing up was true (which he knew it was at most partially), it wasn’t going to be pleasant.

“Hey! Weidenmann!” A friend called out to him, “Your soviet friend is here!”

A car rolled up and Walter waved. This must be Anton then. Anton got out of the car and motioned for Walter to get into the driver’s seat.

He got in and his friend waved him through. He waved back, suddenly unsure of himself.

“Why did you want me to drive?” He asked Anton in broken Russian.

“Germans drive too fast. It scares me,” Anton replied, his German flawless.

“Your German is very good. Have you been to Germany before?” Walter asked.

“I’m a language analyst, I speak a lot of languages.” Anton looked around, taking in the sight of the West. “Been to East Germany before, this is my first to dem Westen. You?”

Walter looked over at Anton, impressed. “I went to West Berlin on official business once, straight in and out. Other than that I’ve never seen anything outside the DDR. Have you been to anywhere else? What’s the outside like?”

“Oh, dangerous question, young man.” Anton pointed to the radio, signaling that it was probably bugged, and mouthed “later”. “So, tell me about your job before. You graduated last year but this is your first mission. What did you do?”

“Border guard.” Walter was already opening up. Anton seemed friendly. “At the checkpoint we just passed through.”

“Do they know?” Anton gestured backward, asking about Walter’s colleagues at the checkpoint.

“Not officially.”

Anton nodded and smiled. “They’ll be pestering you about your experiences when you get back.”

Neither of them talked much for the rest of the drive. Walter had turned the radio on, hesitantly tuning to the Western stations. The first one that came on was a news channel, talking about Reagan. As soon as he figured out what they were talking about, Walter frantically turned the dial, remembering the warning about bugs from Anton. The next station they found was a comedy show, and Anton frowned, cringing a bit at the bad humor. Finally, they both settled on a music channel. It wasn’t very different from what they listened to at home.

The hotel they arrived at was… shabby. Anton knew that the government was broke, but is this seriously the best they could do? Walter shrugged and got out the car, looking behind at Anton and waiting for him to follow.

There was a woman at the front desk, probably a university student by the looks of her. She asked for Walter and Anton’s passports. Walter was posing as a West German, and she only flipped the passport open and scanned it for a couple of seconds. When Anton handed over his bright red booklet, however, she looked up in surprise.

“Ein Sowjetischer?” She asked.

(A Soviet?)

“Ja,” Anton replied simply.

(Yes)

“Was bringt Sie nach Deutschland?” She asked, leaning forward in curiosity.

(What brings you to Germany?)

“Besuchen bei meinem Freund,” Anton pointed at Walter.

(Visiting my friend)

The girl nodded, sensing that Anton didn’t want to say much more, and handed him his passport back and directed them to their room.

“I’m hungry,” Anton said as soon as they finished settling in. “Come on, let’s go get some food.”

“Sure,” Walter finished putting away his clothes. “What do you wanna get?”

“I don’t know, some street foods?” Anton was already out the door.

As soon as they got out onto the streets, Anton turned to Walter. “So, you wanted to hear about the outside? The room was booked by the government, so it was probably bugged as well. Safer out here. What do you want to know?”

“For starters,” Walter must admit that he was surprised Anton was so forthcoming. The possibility that this was a trap to test his loyalty didn’t occur to him until much later. “Where have you been? America? Great Britain?”

“Both of those, yeah. I’ve been to America multiple times. Britain only once. Finland a couple of times as well. France. I think that’s it.” Neither did Anton think that he shouldn’t trust someone he had just met and tell them all of this.

“Is America, you know, what they say it is? Both the bad and good.” Walter asked.

“Both the bad and good, yeah.” Anton pointed towards the busier section of the city. “Let’s actually get some food so they wouldn’t get suspicious. I mostly went to the big cities, and they seemed prosperous on the surface, but there’s more to it. They have homeless people, can you believe that? Just people lying on the streets, freezing in the winter and under the scorching sun in the summer. They have all their belongings in a shopping cart. And the government just does nothing.” He shook his head. “Anyway, let’s talk about more pleasant things.”

Walter remained silent, not knowing what to say in reply. The propaganda made everything in the west seem so bad, and sometimes he wondered if it was really true. If what Anton said were real, then it wasn’t far from the truth. Maybe exagerrated, but not completely baseless. He sighed, “I thought their government was rich?”

“Of course they are,” Anton scoffed, “They take money from the people and never give back anything. I would be rich too if I did that. Currywurst?” He pointed to a cart with a long line behind it.

Walter shrugged. “Sure, if you wanna stand in line.” He really didn’t want to think about politics right now, so he tried to find other topics to talk about. “So… Do you have a girlfriend?” He asked Anton, his voice teasing.

Anton blushed, but he turned his face away to hide it. One could almost mistake the pink glow for the reflection of the neon lights overhead. “No, do you?”

Now it was Walter’s turn to blush. “I’m engaged. We’re planning to get married next spring.”

“Wow, congratulations!” Anton beamed at Walter. “Come on, tell me about her. What’s her name? How did you meet?”

Walter’s blush deepened. “Her name is Zoe. We’ve known each other since we were kids, we grew up in the same town.”

“Aw, that’s sweet. Have you planned your wedding yet?”

“Not much into detail,” Walter replied, “I think we are going to take our wedding photos at the Alexanderplatz, but maybe that’s a bit too boring. Everyone does that.”

“Well, I can’t give you any advice there.” Anton chuckled. “All I know is that girls like big white dresses. The bigger and whiter the better. My sister has never had a boyfriend and she is still talking about how she’d like an extravagant wedding.”

“Oh, you have a sister?” Walter asked Anton. “I’m an only child.”

“Yeah, She’s just over a year younger than me.” They arrived at the front of the line and Walter quickly ordered while Anton was talking. “She the reason I’m doing this.”

“What do you mean?” Walter asked through a mouthful of food.

“She’s very sick. She has leukemia.” Anton’s voice turned gentle at the discussion of his sister. “They said they’d move her to a better hospital, with the best doctors, if I did this.”

Walter nodded, knowing what Anton meant by this. It seemed like neither of them really wanted to get into this line of work. Whether that was because of the danger, the secrecy, or the less than honorable things they have to do for it. And they obviously didn’t have a choice.

“Should we go back now?” Anton suggested as they both finished their food. “It’s rather late. You’ve got a long day ahead of you.”

“Yeah, sure.” Walter pulled his coat tighter around himself. “It getting cold out here too.”

As soon as they got back to their room, their conversations stopped. They couldn’t be sure what would be safe and what wouldn’t be, on the off-chance that they were being bugged. Anton had fallen asleep almost the minute he lied down, but Walter laid awake, thinking. Think about what Anton had said. Thinking about his mission. Thinking of all the ways he could mess up and everything that could go wrong. He kept telling himself he would do fine, but somehow he just couldn't believe it.

#mine #MY OCs #oc: anton #oc: walter #im not gonna tag it as espionage whump cuz its not whump #also not gonna tag it as whump in german #cuz its not whump #and there's #what #lemme count #a grand total of 16 German words #also I'm gonna make a masterpost now #because i am hella unorganized heheh

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a-lbeit · 4 years

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2019: a year in review

a doozy

rang in the new year at jellyrolls in orlando with a complimentary champagne toast, hats and noisemakers, and a round of “auld lang syne,” just as you’re supposed to, ending the night at steak n shake with some of the best people i’ve known. it was a traditional new years, and i couldn’t be more grateful.

watched most of my roommates go back to where they came from--australia, ohio, brazil, hawaii. it was a sad few days when i was alone in the apartment before moving to a new place, continuing on with the college program.

had a visit from my parents and aunt. it was nostalgic, in a way, and i’m so glad they were able to visit me. my aunt has already visited me out here in california, and i hope my parents can make the trip out at some point.

found out that i had been accepted to participate in the college program in disneyland. i remember opening that email at the bus stop after a morning shift at the hotel. it was unthinkable, the idea that california was on my horizon. i hadn’t been that excited about something in a long, long time. in the coming days, i remember researching driving across the country in an old and unreliable car.

finally took the free tour of the wilderness lodge. it certainly held my interest, but i took the information with a grain of salt. it’s still disney, after all.

started hanging out with katie, nicole, and estevan, the first group of people i didn’t live with that i felt close to since high school. going to the parks with them was so pure, the way i picture young people’s experiences at disney world should be like. we went to the butterfly garden at epcot, got food at the flower and garden festival, and watched happily ever after countless times. i’m not often one for that type of shit, usually, but with them, it was incredible.

drove back to charleston on st patrick’s day to see mumford and sons with callie. that was one of the groups i’d always wanted to see, and callie is one of the best people to see a concert with. i’ve said it before, but marcus mumford is one of my favorite celebrity-type people. he seems genuine and personable.

drove back a couple days later and went to bob ross’s grave with katie

the next day, finally bit the bullet and bought a ticket to universal. katie and i had so much fun that day. it was strange being back there and seeing all the changes since i had last been on my senior trip in high school. seeing everything, especially on the universal side, that i had missed or never had time for, was far out.

had a visit from lisa and toby somewhere in there and also from my cousin

went to blizzard beach with katie and nicole

went to clearwater beach with katie, nicole, and estevan. i found $20 in the sand, we took nice photos, and blasted music in the car.

had some late night walmart and target visits with them, where nicole and i started our “hello/hi” snapchat epics. i miss those.

nicole spent a few nights at the hospital, so we visited her. we had fun, even though i know she was scared.

went to magic kingdom on 4/20 lmfao

went to jellyrolls one last time

was given a cupcake for my second to last day at port orleans (and for my last, as well). one of the managers was quite kind and i do appreciate her.

went to universal one last time. cracked my phone that morning lmfao. still had a great day, though.

the last evening before moving out, katie, estevan, and i went to magic kingdom. daniel took some photos for us in front of the castle, we said goodbye to estevan, watched happily ever after, and for our last ride, attempted to go on thunder mountain. we were evacuated. what a way to end it.

despite these memories, the first part of 2019 is kind of a blur. i remember being infuriated with my workplace environment--the lack of hours, the shitty treatment of employees, particularly by one of the managers. i do not miss him and i do not miss that place. i am only thankful to have met katie, nicole, and estevan through it. port orleans riverside, and disney world in general (not disneyland, on which i will speak later) is the absolute most awful place i have ever worked. i cried in my car in the rain starting my 6 hour drive back to charleston on may 2nd to have to leave my friends, but i was overjoyed to be leaving orlando.

returned to charleston, no money in my bank account, worried about the plausibility of getting a job just for a few months before leaving for california.

saw shakey graves with callie and some others. it wasn’t the best shakey graves show i’d seen, but it was nice nonetheless.

went to folly beach for the sunrise with melissa. it was beautiful and empty, and i was even wearing a jacket in charleston in may.

also went to the grand reopening of one of the local mcdonalds with melissa LMFAO

got a job at east bay deli and also back at the college bookstore. thank god for them.

spent the next 8-ish weeks mostly just working close to every day. i might have had 3 or 4 days off in that time. but i wouldn’t have had it any other way. i actually looked forward to the 2 days a week i got to work at the bookstore--i loved my supervisors and coworkers so much. and the deli was chill and i enjoyed my coworkers there, too. i miss them, to be honest. both of those jobs. i didn’t make much money, but it was something to enable me to get a start in california and to enjoy a couple of summer trips.

in mid-july, rented a car and drove up to the smokies, one of new favorite summer traditions (although i’m not sure if i’ll be able to continue it this year). on the way there, i even got a new phone, making the trip even better, since i now had a battery life that lasted, gps that actually worked, and a nicer phone camera. i did some really great hikes, ones that i’d had on the back burner for a couple years. i even did 2 hikes in one day that added up to about 15 miles. that’s not really that much, but i was proud of myself. i also found myself once again at looking glass falls, feeling that this is what summer should look like. i miss that place, where everything seems simple, even though it’s not.

returned, worked for a few more days at the bookstore (with my birthday in between, a lovely day spent in edisto with my parents), and flew up to the new york area for a couple days. man, what a trip.

after arriving at jfk, i took the airtrain into manhattan and headed uptown to finally visit the general grant mausoleum, something i had wanted to do the last couple times i had been to new york but had never had the chance to. it was beautiful to look at and fascinating to learn about. i love that the nps has so many different kinds of sites. then, i went to columbia’s wallach art gallery because i had the time to. bob dylan’s “mozambique” was part of one of the pieces.

finally took the train down to lauren’s. it was so incredible to spend the night at her apartment and then to come back to the city with her the next day. we went to the color factory, walked around soho, got food in chinatown, and went to a drag performance, after which we met up with kai and got a late dinner in harlem.

the next day, we walked around to a few color factory spots and parted ways at penn station. i continued on to my next airbnb in queens and went to primark to end the evening.

went back to flushing meadows corona park, reminiscing about the paul simon concert i’d seen less than a year before and how strange it was to be back on the same soil. i explored the park in more depth. it’s such an overlooked place full of early 60s futurism. i went to paul simon’s childhood home, which is up for sale now, and got a snack at the lemon ice king of corona. on i ventured to the jamaica bay wildlife refuge, another nps site checked off my list (not that any nps site is a place to “check off.” i want to see them all because the diversity is so unique).

that evening, i met up with ciaran. it was so cool to be able to see him for the first time since berlin. besides zuri and the people i went to school with, he’s the only person i’ve seen since that semester. i loved talking about berlin and what we’ve been up to since then.

my last day, i wandered around prospect park (at the recommendation of ciaran), went to federal hall, and finally to governor’s island where i got soaked in a rainstorm but it was all right. i ended the night with pierogi and thoughts of the coming week.

flew back and packed for the start of a different life

once again flew out of charleston for what i thought would be the last time for a while. i arrived in chicago for a nice few days before chugging out of union station.

trying to get to my airbnb on the l was an experience. lollapalooza was going on, and i arrived at my transfer station just as everyone was leaving for the night. it was packed and i ended up going in the opposite direction i needed just so that i could get on the train in the right direction before everyone else piled on. it was funny, though, even in the moment.

it was my first time in chicago, so i started my first day at millennium park, which was honestly really cool, despite the crowds. from there, i went to the art institute, where i could have spent all my time if i had the chance. i remembered scenes from ferris bueller.

travelled down to the university of chicago, where i toured the robie house. i think that was the first frank lloyd wright house that i’ve seen. maybe someday i’ll get to fallingwater and the like.

more south, there’s a place called the stony island arts bank. they had on display an artist’s work who had painted a photo from each day of obama’s presidency. there were thousands of them. i loved it so much.

my second and last day, i walked along lake michigan, visited a mexican art museum, and went to the zoo, ending the night at the navy pier gazing at the city lights. this trip was a tourist’s one, but i wouldn’t have had it any other way.

dragged my shit to union station the next morning, ready to depart on an over-two-day long train trip to the west.

to begin with, the train left probably 2 hours late. it was all right, though. when we finally started moving, i felt it--the wheels against the track, sure, but more so the wind in mountains thousands of miles away that i would soon see.

sunset in illinois and sunrise in nebraska, a concept

i had both seats to myself from somewhere in illinois until salt lake city. what a time to be alive.

sure, the stretch between denver and colfax might be the beautiful part, but all those plains of nebraska and eastern colorado did a number on me.

in denver, we had about a 35 minute refuel break, so i left the train and union station and walked to a 7 eleven a few blocks away. how strange it was to be in a city i’d always heard of, but just for a few minutes. when i got back on, a man had boarded and sat in front of me that sure was a loud talker. i was thankful to be behind him rather than next to him.

we left denver, only to be held up about a half hour later by a freight train stuck in a tunnel. the man started freaking me and the other passengers out a little--he was muttering and sort of rocking back and forth, clearly uncomfortable with the delay we were faced with. i moved to the observation car for the first time to get away from him, and boy, am i glad i did. i spent a good amount of time there for the remainder of my journey. when we were still stuck behind that freight train, the conductor came in and played someone’s guitar, leading us all in a singalong. it was pure and i’m glad i was a part of it.

after we finally got moving again, we started to see the scenery we had signed up for. apart from badlands and the black hills last year, i’d never seen the west at all. this was terrain on the level of ansel adams’s iconography. thank god for that part of the country.

to see and do this on a train made it so much more meaningful. to realize you’re looking at the path that people’s ancestors blazed through all those years ago is something else.

a lot of utah was passed through at night, unfortunately, but from salt lake city on, we could see the alien landscapes of the state. i still can’t fully fathom its character, but i have at least a bit of an idea now. wow.

at one point, i think in nevada, we were delayed again by a passenger needing an ambulance. i can’t even imagine what it must have been like for them. i hope everything ended up working out fine for them.

leaving out of reno and crossing the state line into california was anticlimactic but incredible. i was really in california.

everyone ended up getting a free meal because the train was so late. at that point, it was over 6 hours behind schedule. that beef stew, mashed potatoes, and bread sure hit different when i hadn’t had substantial food since denver.

the train emptied out as time went on, and after the last sunset somewhere in the middle of california, it was just me and a few others in the observation car. trev and i had been talking for months about meeting up once i got to california, and he ended up calling me to ask if he could come to my airbnb the night i arrived in anaheim in a few days. i said yes. it remained in the back of my mind.

we rolled in to emeryville 5 minutes before midnight, 7 hours and 45 minutes late. it was cold and i was unsure of the reliability of my airbnb host, but i wouldn’t trade it for anything. i ended up taking a lyft to the airbnb because i just couldn’t deal with waiting for or even learning the bus. my airbnb host was probably the worst i’ve ever had, and i only was able to get into the apartment complex because another resident came back and let me in, but it doesn’t matter.

i worried about transportation costs in san francisco, but i bit the bullet (as gently as i could). it’s fucking san francisco in the summertime. what else can you do?

i started everything off with a visit to the hyde street pier after taking the bus into the city from berkeley. i saw a sea lion or seal or whatever and got my first view of the golden gate. it was like nothing else.

had in n out, since i guess it’s blasphemous not to

walked to the palace of the arts and then went to the bridge. i didn’t cross it or anything, but i walked down to the beach and admired the bay. how do places like that exist?

climbed back up to the level of civilization and rushed over to the embarcadero to meet up with brandon. i feel so grateful that i was able to meet up with him. we walked around chinatown, had dinner, and ended the night at burger king in union square.

the next morning, i made my way to golden gate park, where outside lands was to be held later that day. i saw the windmill, the bison enclosure, strawberry hill, the aids memorial grove--a message on one of the stones said the names of two men who had “met the day humans walked on the moon”--and hippie hill. that park is full.

i thought about trev on my long walks, how i’d probably be seeing him in a little over 24 hours

ventured into the haight-ashbury district, where i wandered around amoeba a little bit and saw the music history which has become such a piece of consumerism nowadays. i guess it always was, though.

saw a beautiful church in mission delores and looked around an alley of street art; then went up to the richy rich part of town (although i guess that’s the entirety of sf, isn’t it?) to see the painted ladies and look at everything the beat museum had to offer. that place was so fascinating.

went back to my airbnb briefly before taking the bart down to oakland to see paul simon in his pop-up show at the fox theater that he’d announced about a week beforehand. i was lucky enough to score a ticket, and even though his setlist was mostly the same from when i’d seen him twice the year before, there’s something about him that just makes me wide-eyed.

the next day, flew out of sf and into orange county, my new home. flying down to southern california was a feeling of hope and freshness. i don’t feel it as much anymore, but it sure did make my heart jump at the time. i still couldn’t believe i was in california, seeing the pacific outside my airplane window, and that just 4 or 5 days before, i had experienced so much less in my life.

that evening, trev came over. it was certainly a day of firsts. i remember that night so well, how he kissed me good night at the end. i still like him as a friend and i’ll probably hook up with him again, but blech. cringe. i’ve changed, i think.

the next day, i moved into a new apartment to start the disney college program once again. meeting my 4 roommates, who knew what kind of shit was to happen over the next few months? i was so guarded that day, as i always am with meeting people, but especially with the self-hatred of continuing to work for disney.

in the next few days before the orientation where we get our disney IDs and entrance pass to the parks, i got settled and explored the area a little bit. i walked onto disney property, seeing the disneyland sign for the first time. it was otherworldly. i had thought about this for so many years, not just california, but disneyland specifically. it was the original, the first. seeing downtown disney, the hotels, and a few views of the parks was insane.

the day of the orientation was like a door opening. we went on a small tour of the park. it was just me and one other guy in our group who had never been to disneyland, so we got to go out into it first. i will always remember that first second. i also learned that i would be working at autopia lmfao and i was NAWT happy. look at me now. i am so goddamn indebted to that place.

that evening, my roommates and i went into the park as guests, and i rode peter pan as my first ride. i was happy.

went to la for the first time the next day. seeing the hollywood sign in the distance doesn’t faze me quite so much now, but that first time, wow. it’s beautiful when everything is new to you.

went to the parks a few more times in the midst of training at auto. i met and befriended abby, greg, and alex. my second day of auto training was blake and jacob’s first. i remember meeting them and shaking their hands and discussing how we had all done a program in florida.

went to joshua tree one night with zuri, where we stargazed and saw all kinds of flora and fauna. it was beautiful, and i loved being the one to drive back at 4 in the morning through the blackened californian scenery.

the day i got signed off, i went back to la to spend the night at trev’s LMFAO, with the next morning spent at venice and santa monica. i remember feeling so grateful for my life, for california, for getting laid, for disneyland.

a few nights later, a big group of us all went out. i got drunk for the first time. i met britt then, and i got closer to blake and everyone.

in the next few weeks, i went to an angels game with abby and her roommates, went bowling with coworkers, and had a tipsy la day with abby.

then came september 11th. we were all going to go out again. after work, i went to walmart to buy vodka and strawberry lemonade. i made a detour to mcdonald’s because i wanted to eat something before getting lit. and i broke my ankle. never got to go out that night. the defining point of these past 6 months.

i sat on the ground after falling for about 20 minutes, maybe, waiting and hoping for the pain to subside. it didn’t. before the swelling started, i noticed that when i moved my left ankle, it didn’t look the same as my right one. i admitted defeat and called my roommate to drive me to the er. thank god for her.

we sat in the er waiting room for a couple hours. my ankle hurt, but i don’t really remember it being too bad anymore. they finally saw me. i got an x-ray. the technician said it was broken. i started crying. the nurse splinted me up and gave me crutches. the doctor wrote me a recommendation for an orthopedic specialist. i fell again trying to use the crutches on the way out. they re-x-rayed me. re-splinted me. sent me home.

i somehow took a shower the next morning. blake messaged me, asking how i was. he brought me coffee and pastries. i will never forget it.

i couldn’t get an appointment until almost a week later, but in the meantime, my roommates and i held a couple game and movie nights. abby and jacob came by, blake always made an appearance, and i met tucker.

i would start a lot of days by listening to the sigh no more album and contemplating my future. it was a low time, but not the lowest it would get.

britt and i talked a lot, comparing our experiences. i asked her a lot about medical leave. we grew closer because of it all.

when the appointment finally rolled around, i was told that i would most likely need surgery. he re-splinted it and sent me on my way, as it was still too swollen to do anything. i cried in blake’s car.

i called my parents and they said i should come home. i was devastated, but they were right. i was going to do absolutely EVERYTHING in my power to be able to continue with my college program, though. this shit would not end me. (and it didn’t. but i didn’t know it at the time.)

a flight was booked for me to fly back to charleston on september 21st. the night before, we had a final game night with everyone. blake gave me a letter, saying not to read it until i got on the plane. hugs goodbye were tight and i felt my chest close. it was melancholic in a way i’d never felt before.

i sat in the airport the next day trying not to cry. i was able to hold it in. then i was in the air and i finally let myself read the letter. tears escaped often throughout that entire day. i tried to be as discreet as i could.

i reunited with my parents much sooner than i thought i would. it had only been just over a month, after all. i had an appointment that tuesday and we set up surgery for thursday.

i was in charleston for 6 weeks exactly, one of the longest stretches of time in my life. i was constantly forlorn about california and worried about my finances and my participation in the program. the lowest point hit when one of the program people said i should consider cutting my losses and quitting, that they’d only make me pay rent through the middle of november because of my circumstances. i got a medical bill from the er in anaheim that was exponential because my insurance hadn’t gone through yet (but i didn’t realize that part). the only thing that kept me all right was the thought of my friends in california and the hope of a grandiose future, although i wasn’t too sure about that possibility. i wrote blake a letter and he wrote me back. i read east of eden and some other books. britt and i texted. rozi and i became incredibly close. i hung out with my parents and we watched queer eye. i recovered. i became better. my blind resilience (or perhaps stubbornness) was the main reasoning behind my (stupidly naïve) unwavering assuredness of a return to california.

LMFAO at the fact that i almost forgot about this, but i texted tucker a lot during that stretch, as well. he asked me out, and we grew closer during my stint in charleston. i looked forward to hanging out with him when i got back.

and the day of my return did come. november 2nd, the most beautifully pure day of my program. i flew back with grace in my heart and stars in my eyes, even though i was still on crutches. i had a window seat and clear skies to admire the southwest, another part of the country i had never had the chance to lay eyes on. and i landed at john wayne airport to texts about my return. britt picked me up and everything seemed positive and optimistic.

reuniting with blake was something in itself. it was brief, but it had been such a long time coming that i almost cried again. he called me a kindred spirit one time, and that is such a perfect description of what he is to me, as well.

finally met up with tucker. we went to in n out and came back to my apartment, where we talked for a while and made out for a while.

had an appointment less than a week later, where i was told that i could start putting weight on my ankle again. within another week, i was down to one crutch. it was freeing in a way i’d never known. by now, it was the middle of november, and i still wasn’t certain when i’d return to work, but it didn’t matter anymore. i was here, in california, surrounded by people i’d grown unfathomably close to in such a short time.

went to the ellen show somewhere in there and had sex with tucker LMFAO. we spent a lot of time together in about three weeks (he ended up quitting the program and moving back to georgia, so our time was quite short). i had a good time, although i now realize how blinded i was by his laziness and selfishness. i don’t miss him, but i don’t regret it.

had a photoshoot with my boot and my crutch. it was nice to be able to have fun again.

finally returned to the parks, which was something of a homecoming, but not as much as when my aunt visited a few days later and i rode autopia for the first time since everything happened.

tucker moved out, and i cried. i roll my eyes now. i wrote him a letter and he never acknowledged it, and never texted anyone back that wished him well. fuck him.

on november 25th, the program gave us a thanksgiving dinner. after that, rozi, blake, britt, and i all wanted to do something, so blake found this place called the juke joint less than a mile away. it was the start of our close group. we would go and play pool and have a drink or two. by that point, i was down to no crutch, as well.

one night, we all went to abby’s. i got a little drunk and talked about socialism and the national park service for like half an hour.

went to medieval times lmao

it kind of became a thing for us to drag blake out of his apartment to go to juke joint. those were the days.

got cleared to go back to work on december 4th, but didn’t go back until the 13th. in that time, i chilled, tried not to spend money, and slept over at trev’s again after a fun karaoke session with zuri and her coworkers. we went to amoeba and guitar center, and i went to a book talk at the morrison hotel gallery.

one juke joint night, rozi, blake, britt, and i ended up staying out all night, driving to the top of the world in laguna to see sunrise. it started with rozi needing toilet paper, so we went to target after leaving juke joint. then we didn’t want it to end. we got tacos and donuts and we sat in a park for a while talking about life. rozi wanted to go to a view. we found the top of the world. and we drove there. there was fog and gas station snacks. i am thankful for that night and for rozi initiating it all.

went to the dcp end of program celebration and got drunk at abby’s apartment afterwards. i had a lot of fun that night. i met matheus there.

finally went back to work on december 13th. that morning, all the program participants had an opportunity to take a photo in front of the castle, and jacob, abby, and i all posed together. at work, i felt a real sense of joy. my ankle and feet hurt by the end of the day, but the knowledge of forthcoming paychecks and a renewed sense of purpose overpowered any pain.

went to the newport boat parade

another night, rozi, blake, and i again stayed out all night after juke joint. we went back to the same park, and after a while, we said “let’s go to la.” i drove there in blake’s car, and we tried to go to griffith, but it was closed. so we went up to the start of a hollywood sign hike and looked down at the city’s lights. the juxtaposition of the natural and the man-made is really captivating. then we went to hollywood boulevard and had fries at a 24 hour burger place in the roosevelt hotel at 4 in the morning. it was beautiful. on the way back, rozi slept in the back and blake and i talked about politics and the park service, about trump’s impeachment. i called out of work and slept all day, that evening going to jacob’s housewarming party. after we left, the four of us went back to blake’s (i, at least, was crossfaded at that point lmfao) and all laid on his twin bed.

on christmas eve, rozi, blake, and i went to california adventure and had food from the festival of the holidays. it was an incredible evening. it felt pure.

i worked on christmas morning again, but i enjoyed myself. blake and i would fuck around, and it really made everything all right.

went out with some coworkers a few days later. we laughed and got low.

worked a hell of a lot, trying to make up for the three months i had been out of a job

new years eve almost was anticlimactic--almost. blake, abby, and i all worked and came home together, making a stop at vons for champagne, pizza, and chips and salsa. then, i found out rozi wasn’t going to be around because she was going to spend the evening with her family. i was disheartened. new years is the only holiday i really care about, and it was about to be the start of the roaring 20s. i wanted to do something big. but it ended up being all right. i went to abby’s apartment and hung out with her roommates. blake came a bit later. we all drank together until abby and bailey decided to go to california adventure, while the rest of us decided to stay. at midnight, it ended up just being me, blake, mackenzie, and lauren, which was all right. i was drunk by that point and i don’t really remember the ball dropping, but i know it was a nice way to roll in the new year. britt came through eventually, and we went back to blake’s, but he wanted to take a smoke, so we all went outside, me in his blanket. as he smoked his cigar (of which i took a few drags, unfortunately), britt went up to this party that was happening across the way and somehow got us all in. we put his blanket back and went into the party, which is fuzzy to me. i remember eating doritos and drinking jameson lmfao. i saw rod and matty at one point. i kissed them. i don’t remember coming home, but i got to work at 8:45 the next day on time. i was still drunk, but i sure did have fun that new years morning. i laughed and joked with blake and abby. it was their last day. i almost cried when blake came up to me as he was leaving.

saw a lot of movies thanks to my cousin working at amc and giving me a card that lets me see any movie any time for free

drove a little, even in california

spent way too much money on food

thought a lot about the differences between working conditions at disney world and disneyland. i’m thankful to be in california now, where the laws give more power to employees, where i’m part of a union, where the weather is good and the people are better

counted my endless blessings. i have never been more grateful of my life.

analyzed my broken ankle. it could not have come at a better time, in all honesty. i had already met incredible people on this program and had gotten to know them a little bit, so i didn’t feel like i was on the outskirts of the program, even when i was back in south carolina. it made me grow closer to everyone somehow, and i am thankful and appreciative beyond belief for that. rozi and i probably wouldn’t be as close as we are now without it. britt and i wouldn’t have bonded over our injuries. blake and i, oh man. we would have never written each other, i probably wouldn’t have read east of eden, and we might never have formed the juke joint squad. i remember writing about how hard it was, dealing with my broken ankle, with the lack of mobility, with the impending medical bills, but that i still thought that in the future, i would think the whole thing was soft. i think that even now, just a month or so later. even with the debt, with the worry of my mobility, i am so content with how my life has developed just over these past 4 months.

laughed and cried

missed school

listened to music in a new light, but maybe not as much as i used to

became incredibly busy, but would not have traded it for anything

looked into the aspire program with the realization that i would probably be starting the road to my master’s quite soon

became less conflicted about working for disney. i still hate myself sometimes, but it’s a different vibe out here. it seems more genuine than in florida.

completely embraced a life in california. i don’t really think this is where i’ll end up (although who really ever knows?), but i am so genuinely happy to be in this place for a bit--and i don’t think i’ve ever unabashedly or truly thought that about a residence before

loved the national park service, as i always do, and loved discussing it with blake

songs of the year: “timshel,” mumford and sons; “this life,” vampire weekend, “the cool, cool river,” paul simon; “count your blessings,” bing crosby. “timshel” made me think about my somehow unfaltering strength and independence, about how i have to be the source of affirmation in my own life. “this life” encapsulated the beauty of a never-ending summer. “the cool, cool river” let me remember to show weakness sometimes. and “count your blessings” is always in the back of my mind.

album of the year: norman fucking rockwell, lana del rey. that entire album was such a soundtrack for me when i was dreaming of nothing but california, of my friends, of walking.

man, 2019. the end of a decade. the change i had been waiting for. i am a completely different person than i was even 6 months ago. the events of this year affected me unlike anything in the past. i said last year that 2018 was the most eventful year of my life, but this year was something else. and i am so unendingly grateful for the trials, tribulations, and victories that it threw at me. romance, friendship, sex, drinks, travel, financial worry, pain, and overall, an enduring lust for life have carried me through this year into a new decade, and i wouldn’t have it any other way.

the first part of 2019 was completely different than the second half, and it is wild to think about it in those terms. i’m not too sure why california changed me the way it did, but man, the people i’ve come in contact with over the past 5 months have had such an impact on my life. the relationships i formed were the newest but also somehow some of the closest ones i’ve ever had. and it’s strange to think about them, but they completely envelop my outlook on this entire year.

i’ve been so caught up in my own life that i haven’t even touched on global events. you only have to remember a couple things to become overwhelmed by the horrors of the planet. climate change, hate crimes, poverty, war. it all blends together, honestly. i think about how the world is shitty and i just kind of close myself off from it. but there is always the occasional beautiful moment that you easily pluck from the depths of your brain to renew your hope. because even though it can constantly seem like you have lost all your hope, it is never actually gone. i think it’s impossible for hope to leave your being. that sense of longing and anticipation for an untouched tomorrow always gets me through the night.

and sometimes, you don’t even need hope. when you’ve got this incredible entanglement of all the people you love so much surrounding you, you can just picture their faces and remember the good times you’ve had so far with them and rest assured that life just might have mercy on you, on your weary but persistent and trailblazing soul.

“maybe it’s true that we are all descended from the restless, the nervous, the criminals, the arguers and brawlers, but also the brave and independent and generous. if our ancestors had not been that, they would have stayed in their home plots in the other world and starved over the squeezed-out soil.”

#about me #me #a year in review #2019

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underthewingsofthblackeagle · 4 years

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After her marriage with Frank Randall has failed and Claire Beauchamp flees from her violent husband, she finds refuge in the house of the Fraser/Murray family in Berlin-Wilhelmshorst. But then tensions arise between Britain (which has since left the EU) and some EU member states. All holders of an English passport are required to leave EU territory within six weeks … and suddenly Claire’s fate looks more uncertain than ever.

This story was written for the #14DaysofOutlander event, hosted by @scotsmanandsassenach

“Glencoe” by dowchrisr

Chapter 2: 14 Men (1)

James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser was born and raised in the Scottish Highlands. But the development of world history made it impossible for him to spend the rest of his life in his beloved homeland. Well-read in European history and as a keen observer of global political developments, he had guessed early on that the hard "Brexit" of Great Britain would lead the (until then) United Kingdom into an unprecedented chaos.

“Brexit” by Foto-Rabe

When the Corona Pandemic ebbed in Europe and the British Isles and travel restrictions were largely lifted, James Fraser, as head of his clan, decided it was high time to leave the country he and his family loved so much. Many people around him, especially the other 13 members of the "New Jacobites", felt the same way. Some of his friends emigrated to the Republic of Ireland, others to France or the Netherlands. For Jamie and his family another door had opened many years before. Jared Fraser, one of Jamie's uncles, had gone to Paris in his youth and (starting from the French capital) had built up a flourishing, Europe-wide wine trade. He had also opened a branch in Berlin. From there the entire business for Germany and South-East Europe was coordinated. In order to save taxes and to invest the proceeds of his business profitably despite the European Central Bank's zero-interest policy at that time, Jared Fraser had bought real estate. Among the houses he had purchased in the state of Brandenburg was a well-preserved manor house just some kilometers outside of the German capital. After his death, this part of Jared's estate had fallen to Jamie and his sister Jenny.

So it came about that on the day it was decided at Westminster that the emergency laws passed because of the Corona Pandemic should remain in force, a container ship left the port of Edinburgh for the port of Rostock. The containers it was carrying contained most of the Fraser/Murray family's movable property. The family itself, Jamie, Ian, Jenny and the children, had boarded a Norwegian Airlines plane the night before, which took them to Berlin-Schönefeld Airport within four and a half hours with a stopover at Oslo-Gardermoen. When they arrived at the airport, Felix Kloppstock, the vice manager of the Berlin headquarters, who had become a trusted employee of Jared Fraser, had picked them up in a minibus owned and used by one of the wine shops. When they arrived in Wilhelmshorst near Potsdam, the house was already prepared for them. The beds were made and the smell of roast venison came from the kitchen, letting them know that dinner was ready. They were then greeted by Mr. and Mrs. Ballin. The 55-year-old housekeeper Helene and her husband Frieder had also been hired by Jared Fraser and entrusted with the management of the house years ago. When all the Frasers/Murrays fell into their beds late in that night, they did so with one laughing and one crying eye. Laughing because they knew they were safe now. Crying because they missed their home. And James Fraser was thinking about something else entirely. He was grateful that his parents didn’t had to witness the political developments of the present day. At the same time, he was overcome with a feeling of great sadness when he thought that he would probably not be able to visit their graves in the cemetery near Lallybroch for a very long time.

“Brandenburg” by reinhardweisener

Just a few days after their arrival at their new home at Wilhelmshorst, they were to learn from the media how right and decisive their step had been. They had put the children to bed after dinner and were now sitting together in the kitchen for a while. Jenny became as white as a sheet when the radio reported that the London government had announced that it would now explicitly use the emergency laws to take action against the Scottish independence movement, which was growing bigger and louder with every single day. Anyone suspected of being part of the "New Jacobites" or their followers should be arrested and charged with high treason. Ian, who was sitting next to Jenny at the kitchen table, looked up in horror. Jamie, who had just taken two bottles of beer from the fridge for himself and Ian, turned, looked at them and just sighed.

"This is what I've always been afraid of. But don't worry, our naturalization papers. identity cards and passports are on their way. I spoke to Ernst last night."

Ernst, more precisely Ernst Neuenburger, was Under State Secretary in the Federal Ministry of Economics. Jamie had met the official in 2018, when his uncle Jared took him to the ministry's summer party, introducing his nephew to the network he had been building across Europe for many years. (More than anybody else outside Scotland, Jared Fraser had dedicated his life with great zeal to the service of the "New Jacobites". Wherever on the continent he could, he had used his influence and financial resources to promote an independent Scotland with good relations to the EU). James Fraser and Ernst Neuenburger were immediately sympathetic to each other. And in the course of the day, Jamie discovered that Ernst Neuenburger was not only a competent interlocutor in economic matters, but that he had also a great affection for Scotland.

BMWi Goerckehof mit Brunnen by Fridolin freudenfett - Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=62265692

"If we take the right of self-determination of peoples seriously, as laid down in Article 1(2) of the UN Charter, through the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights and the International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights of December 19, 1966, then Scotland must be given the right to be a State in its own right," the Under Secretary of State had said.

Jamie had nodded in agreement and then, more jokingly, asked:

"Are you secretly a Jacobite, Mr. Neuenburger?"

"No, Mr. Fraser," the politician had replied with a smile, but with a very serious undertone in his voice, "I don't think you have to belong to any special group to stand up for freedom and self-governemenrt. To be a democrat is, in my opinion, quite enough."

Neuenburger, who obviously enjoyed talking to Jared Fraser's nephew, took a quick look around.

"Why don't we take a few steps," he then said, pointing with one hand towards a path that would lead them away from the center of the festival.

"Gladly," Jamie replied, and together they moved away from the crowd. Jamie well remembered seeing his uncle Jared as he walked away, talking to a man and a woman in the shade of a high hedge, also a little away from everyone else. Jared had smiled, nodded briefly to his nephew and then immediately returned to his conversation partners.

When they had moved about two hundred yards away, it was Jamie who resumed the conversation:

"It's interesting that you say that as a German, we're only used to revolutionary sounds from French people. The French supported us in earlier centuries, but the Germans..."

"If I may say so, Mr. Fraser," Neuenburger interjected, "the Germans didn't exist then. When the French supported the Scots, thanks to the political intrigues of the French, the Austrians and the Russians, there was only a patchwork of small and tiny German countries. It was Bismarck..."

"I know, I know. But they were Germans, the King of Hanover..."

"Oh, yes, of course. And no need you remind me that the Kingdom of Prussia was allied with the Kingdom of Hanover... But you know the saying: 'You can't choose your family, but you can choose your friends'. As you may know, George August II was a cousin of Frederick William I, the father of Frederick the Great. Both George II and Frederick I were brought up by their common grandmother, the Electoress Sophie at the palace of Herrenhausen near Hanover. It has been historically recorded that the men already had an aversion to each other as children. This aversion continued later, when they became men or kings, respectively."

Neuenburger paused with his remarks when a waitress appeared with a tray of glasses filled with champagne and offered them to the two men. Both men exchanged their empty glasses for full ones and continued their walk.

"Twice it almost came to war between Hanover and Prussia. Did you know that?" asked Neuenburger.

Jamie looked at him questioningly and shook his head slightly.

"In 1731 there was a dispute between the kingdoms and the royal families because Prussia was recruiting settlers wherever possible. George II issued an edict and assembled an army on the banks of the river Elbe. Friedrich Wilhelm I, on the other hand, had 40,000 soldiers stationed at Magdeburg to defend his territory if necessary. The dukes of Brunswick and Gotha mediated and were able to settle the dispute to a certain extent. A war was prevented. But it was a cold peace. At the same time as the Scottish resistance was crushed at Culloden, another dispute between Hanover and Prussia was smouldering. After the death of the last prince from the house of Cirksena in 1744, it was disputed who would inherit the county of East Frisia. On the part of the Frisian princes there had been a contract of inheritance with Hanover since 1691, but Frederick I had received a “Letter of Expektanz”, meaning an actual entitlement, from Emperor Leopold on 10 December 1694, which said, that after the extinction of the princely house of East Frisia the county should fall to the kingdom of Prussia. The decisive factor in this conflict, however, was the city of Emden. At that time the town was politically isolated and economically weakened. The reason for this was the “War of Appelle” fought in 1726/27. This war was actually a civil war and resulted from a conflict between Prince Georg Albrecht of East Frisia and the East Frisian Estates. It was, how could it be otherwise, about the tax sovereignty. But even after their defeat, the city leaders did not give up their goal of making Emden an important economic metropolis again. Since the 'Emden Revolution' in 1595 the city had the status of a quasi-autonomous urban republic. In this - successful - revolution the city had already freed itself once from the rule of the Cirksena and, as a ‘satellite’ of the Netherlands, achieved de facto the status of a free imperial city. From then on, the representatives of the city signed all contracts and public publications according to the Roman model with ‘S.P.Q.E.’ (Senate and People of Emden). The title ‘Respublica Emdana’ and the abbreviation ‘S. P. Q. E.’ were from then on officially used by the city. Understandable that the aldermen of the town wanted to return to this freedom and independence, which they had already once enjoyed. When the last Cirksena Prince took over his reign in 1734, the city had already refused to pay homage to him. But at least from 1740 on, the Emden councillors planned to achieve their goal with the help of the Prussian King. Secretly they negotiated the ‘Emden Convention’ with the Prussians. In this treaty, Prussia recognized the rights and privileges of the city of Emden and the East Frisian estates, and in return the East Frisian estates recognized the rule of Prussia after the death of the last prince from the house of Cirksena. It was a win-win situation. Prussia left the East Frisians and their estates the liberties they had enjoyed before and in return received a land with access to the North Sea. On 25 May 1744, two weeks after the Emden Convention had been ratified by both parties, the last prince of East Frisia died. Prussia immediately asserted its right of succession. The widowed Princess of East Frisia, a relative of Friedrich II, recognised the succession of Prussia on May 26th and recommended herself ‘to the protection and generosity of the King’. Frederick II had immediately instructed his representatives to make it known everywhere that the privileges and rights of the East Frisians would remain undiminished and that no enticement of East Frisian citizens was to be feared. With this reassuring message, the Prussian soldiers in Aurich and Leer were even positively received. The seizure of possession was already completed on June 2, just one week after the death of the Prince. Three weeks later, on June 23, 1744, the entire county paid homage to the Prussian Crown.

“Rathaus Emden” by fokkengerhard

What do you think, Fraser? Did they rejoice at it in Hanover, or better, in London? I don't think so. On June 3, the Hanoverian official Voigt arrived in East Frisia with papers demanding the rights of the Hanoverians. But there the whole thing was already finished. The speed with which the takeover of East Frisia took place, made possible by the careful and secret preparation, once again put the Hanoverian competitor in the shade. One cannot avoid the impression of dilettantism on the part of Hanover. It is true that they had also reacted immediately there by sending Voigt to East Frisia on June 3, with a corresponding power of attorney, but nobody wanted to accept him or his claims officially. On June 10, the Estates very aptly informed him that the contract which had been concluded between the House of Cirksena and the House of Hanover was neither known to them nor did it concern them, since neither they nor the Emperor had approved the document. East Frisia was also supposed to have a potential for conflict for some time to come. In 1748 the disputes over maritime trade became more intense, especially with the Netherlands, but also with England and Sweden. During the Seven Years' War, however, England then needed the support of Prussian soldiers and only in the course of this did it give up all claims in relation to East Frisia."

The two men had stopped and emptied their glasses.

"Why are you telling me all of this?"

“Brunnen im Kanonenhof des Invalidenhauses, heute Bundesministerium für Wirtschaft, Berlin” by Dirk Sattler - Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=62311136

"Well, you said it was unusual to hear 'revolutionary' sounds from a German. Surely, as Frederick Engels once said, ‘revolutions in Prussia are made from above’. We may not be as revolutionary as the French, but please remember that we are a very, very freedom-loving people. The history of the First and Second World Wars is well known. However, the history of the our war of libration, 1813 to 1815, against Napoleon is often overlooked. The support from the people was so great that some historians even speak of the Prussian People's War. Men and women exchanged their golden wedding rings for iron rings to support their country. The phrase ‘gold I gave for iron’ became something like a proverb. A well-known picture, which spread after the wars of liberation, shows a returning soldier. He does not call out to his wife, who welcomes him with open arms, ‘I am back’ but ‘The fatherland is free! Victoria!' And it wasn't just then. Remember that this country has been struggling for 40 years to be reunited and thus to be free. Not aggressively, but with endurance. And when the Germans in the East brought down the SED regime, it was a peaceful revolution that brought the dictatorship to its knees. What do you think, Fraser, the people here would feel for a people that is oppressed by its, shall we say, bigger neighbour?"

Neuenburger slowly began to walk again. Jamie latched on.

"Why exactly are you telling me all of this?" he asked.

"Well, perhaps I wanted to remind you that revolutionary, i.e. cataclysmic, thoughts don't always have to unload themselves in a storm of the Bastille. Sometimes it is wiser to keep them to yourself and ... say, wait for the ratification of an Emden Convention. As far as I know, a freedom-loving people will always welcome and ... support the freedom, or rather the liberation, of another people.”

Neuenburger smiled. Jamie shook his head slightly and smiled too.

"Come Fraser," the newfound friend then said, "let's go. The buffet is open."

The conversation between the two men was not without consequences. Twice, once in autumn 2018 and once in summer 2019, Ernst Neuenburger had visited the Frasers' home estate in the Scottish Highlands as a holiday guest, before political events made these trips impossible for him. But the two men's confidence in each other had grown during these weeks of walking, horseback riding and hunting together, to the point that by the end of 2020 Jamie was able to make contact with his friend in Berlin unnoticed (through previously agreed 'private' channels). Everything that happened then, that had to happen to bring the Fraser/Murray family into safe exile, happened very quickly. It had to happen very quickly because the window of opportunity to do so was, as in any historical moment, only open for a very short time.

“Schottland” by Emphyrio

On the first Saturday evening that the Frasers/Murrays spent in their new home, Ernst Neuenburger came by to deliver the passports, identity cards and naturalisation papers for all family members. Jenny invited him for dinner and afterwards Jamie and the guest went to the library to talk in private. After the two men had discussed the political situation in Europe for a while over a glass of whisky in front of the fireplace, Ernst Neubauer leaned over to his host..

"We have a question for you..."

It had been clear to James Fraser that sooner or later Neuburger would approach him with a request. He didn't see it as extortion or payment. On the contrary, he was grateful if he could do something in return for the privileges granted. He would have been reluctant to remain a debtor to his friend.

"You must believe me when I tell you I didn't plan this. I have and will continue to do everything I can to help you and your family with great joy ..."

"Speak Ernst, straight forward."

"Well, you have some skills that would be very useful to us. You speak English, perfect French, very good German. You are intelligent and a man who can keep quiet. You also have a thriving wine trade and as a businessman..."

"... I can travel anywhere without raising suspicion?”

"Right. But the most important thing is that I trust you."

The men were silent for a moment.

"Would you be willing," Neuenburger then asked, "to act as an negotiator on our behalf and travel when necessary?"

"Shall I conclude ‘Emden conventions’ for the country?"

"Maybe."

Neuenburger had to smile. What a good memory Fraser owned!

"And where would that lead me to?"

"Well, first of all, to the African continent. 116 million Africans in 31 countries speak French. And counting. Your language skills predestine you for tasks in this field. However, we would ask you to learn Spanish and possibly Portuguese as well. Then we could also send you to South America. Of course, we will provide you with a language teacher paid by us."

Again the men were silent for a moment.

"How dangerous could these 'missions' be for me?" Jamie then asked.

"Not particularly," replied Neuenburger. "You are travelling as a businessman and that causes far less sensation than the travels of a politician or a political official. There are quite a number of, shall we say, colleagues of yours who do that for us. So far, every one of them has returned. We will, of course, prepare you thoroughly for your task."

Jamie pondered for a moment, then nodded and answered:

"Travailler pour le roi de Prusse? Jes suis prest! This country has provided me and my family with freedom and a new start here. If we were not here, I would probably be in an English prison by now. It's only fair that I give something back.”

"Thanks," said Neuenburger and went on “It’s not the King of Prussia, but a democratic republic you serve. Just saying.” Then he reached into the right inside pocket of his jacket and took out a fresh passport, which he handed to Jamie.

Jamie reached for it and opened the little red book.

"Well, well, well, you've thought up a nice alias for me."

Neuenburger smiled.

“Reisepass” by Edeltravel_

Four weeks later, Etienne Marcel de Provac Alexandre, alias James Fraser, began his first trip as a well-camouflaged diplomatic negotiator.

This and other journeys were to take him first to numerous states on the African continent. He negotiated political and economic contracts with other negotiators, lobbied for the release and repatriation of citizens in difficulty and delivered oral messages whose content was too secret to be transmitted by paper or electronic means. From 2023 on, when he became fluent in Spanish, he was also send to South America. One of his last trips took him to Buenos Aires, where he signed a trade agreement. Officially, however, he attended the "Conference of Argentine and Chilean Wine Merchants". In order to make his trip as unobtrusive as possible, he did not fly back to Berlin directly, but made a stopover in Boston. There, officially, he would meet a businessman, a friend, who was planning to include the wines which Etienne Marcel de Provac Alexandre sold, in his range. But in reality, this stopover was to change his life fundamentally. But James Fraser knew nothing of this when his plane landed at Logan International Airport.

#14DaysofOutlander #Outlander #Outlander Fan Fiction #From Boston to Berlin in 14 hours #Claire Beauchamp #Jamie Fraser #Ian Murray #Jenny Murray #Scotland #Germany #Boston #Berlin #Etienne Marcel de Provac Alexandre

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