Stranger Things
JVL
祝日 / Permanent Vacation
Love Begins
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
i don't do bad sauce passes
@theartofmadeline
h
ojovivo
No title available
YOU ARE THE REASON
Origami Around
Claire Keane
ellievsbear
roma★
sheepfilms
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
Peter Solarz
blake kathryn
trying on a metaphor
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Belgium
seen from Hong Kong SAR China
seen from United States
seen from Netherlands
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Japan
seen from Belgium
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Canada
seen from Norway
seen from United States
seen from United States
@valcntia
crawls out from under rock
STARTER CALL
LIKE FOR A STARTER from my OLD!BELL
@observeless
nervous glances are anxiously thrown over her shoulder, and she’s HESITANT to leave the cover of the motel room. However, she cannot linger at the foot of the door for much longer, it’s vital she does not attract any attention - she’s made it so FAR, and at last her last possible SALVATION is hardly a hundred meters away. She makes it across the street in a barely concealed frenzy, cursing herself for the stiffness of her joints as she rapidly knocks on the door, ‘ EXCUSE ME, please open the door ‘ her voice quivers as an ever growing knot of FEAR rises in her throat for every SECOND she remains in the open ‘ --- i’m afraid i’m quite desperate ‘
ANYONE GAME FOR PLOTTING?
i would REALLY like to get some old!bell threads going; pretty please with a cherry on top LIKE THIS POST if you’d be cool with me popping by your ASKBOX/IM sparking up some plotting!
Please reblog if you are part of the Historical RP fandom.
You may also reblog if you have a verse.
The masterlist is here.
Reblog if you are just as happy to run private RP conversations with your partners on Skype instead of Tumblr
@valcntia liked
Some days he still wakes up with the sound of bullets in his ears, or his sisters’ names on his tongue. Just like sometimes he catches that empty, mournful look in Bell’s eyes and knows nothing he can do or say will really help; and there are some days where his leg is so painful it’s all he can do to to shuffle around the house with his walking stick. In all fairness it’s not like he’s ever expected anything different, he never expected finding Bell to suddenly fix everything. How could he? But things are getting better, slowly but surely.
Because for all of those days, there are days like this. Days where the sun is out and they are able to go out for a walk without having to sit down all that often. Sometimes there is a pastry, or an ice cream, other times not. Either way these are the days that Rudy lives for. Not only because when he is hand in hand with Bell anything seems possible, but because these are the days where he really learns about her. Oh of course they know each other, war years and hiding in churches will do that, but there are little things, favourite colours and embarrassing childhood stories, that were made a mystery by language barriers. So it’s on a sunny afternoon like this that they learn.
“Favorite food ever: go.”
‘ CHOCOLATE. don’t tell me it doesn’t count, because it DOES. ‘
she likes this; these moments in the sun where it’s just the two of them - for a moment their ghosts leave them be. He limps and she smokes, this is what they’ve become, yet they’re somehow still alive - they’re still breathing, and they’re doing it TOGETHER. It’s far more than she would have ever hoped for, there are parts of her even today reluctant to believe this is all TRUE. Somehow she lets herself live in the moment in times like this, where the sun illuminates a halo of yellow hair and a smile she has come to be so reliant upon beams at her, reminding her that this is REAL.
‘ --- favorite animal, aside from dogs. ‘
@valcntia liked
“Hey, are you alright love?”
A stupid question, really, because the kid clearly isn’t alright at all. Alright kids don’t sit crouched in alleyways crying. Something that Ally knows for a fact (she’s not alright either). Cautiously she takes a step towards the girl, well aware that she walks a fine line between comfort and scaring. Slowly she crouches until she too is sat on the dirty ground, but leaving a gap between her and the kid; she doesn’t want to scare her further. Silence sits between them, heavy, awkward and Ally plays with it for a moment while she tries to find some words that might be useful.
“Are you lost? Are your parents round her or-”
Or don’t you have any? A month ago the idea of a kid living here on the streets would have been unimaginable, that in its self is now laughable. And judging by the girls appearance there hasn’t been looking after her for a while. A runaway? Maybe, but now isn’t the time to ask. Instead she rummages around in her pockets until she finds the half full packet of chewits. When in doubt: sweets. She unwraps one for herself before offering the packet over to the girl.
“Want one? I’m Ally.”
there is blood on her bare knees and tears burning in the corners of her eyes. She wants to be strong enough not to weep, she wants to choke down the fear and keep going despite the ice cold dread freezing her stomach. she thinks of her parents, her brave sweet parents, who met their fate while she hid underneath the wooden floor of their home, she thinks of her uncle and the how the darkness of the night had swallowed his kind smile and never returned it to her, tears burn ever hotter as they swim across her cheeks and fall down her face, salt stinging against the scrapes of her knees as she tries to make herself merge with the wall behind her. A voice startles her and for a moment she curses herself for not hiding further down the alleyway, she damns herself and the fear of what lurks in darkness, however she’s quick to realize that the voice is not a taunting one - brown hues lift to see a blonde girl, older than herself but not old enough to be an adult, she’s thankful - Filipe had been very specific, adults cannot be trusted, a flash of blue fabric and flames engulfing her home flashes behind her eyes, she cannot truly say she disagrees. The little girl flinches slightly when the older approaches her, but makes no move to run. She keeps a watchful eye as the other girl takes a seat, and she’s thankful for the space left between them (children can be cruel, too, she reminds herself). Suddenly food is presented; the situation has changed and her belly rumbles. Dark eyes follow the unwrapping of the sweet and then proceed to stalk the package being offered, hesitant fingers reach out and curl around the offering before inspecting it closer, pulling at the plastic to unwrap it. ‘ gracias ‘
@valcntia liked for a starter
War-torn streets had never been anything suited for children, but yet they had always been there, like fleeting ghosts in the ruins of what had once been homes, and with their eyes sad and hollow as they had watched the soldiers march by.
It had not been until she had seen the children that she had realised what a horrifying thing the war was, and that the suffering the soldiers experienced wasn’t limited to them. Europe was being torn to pieces, killing people who was not even there to fight, and in a way she was feeling guilty for being a part of the whole thing. Her country was one of those ruining Europe, and she knew they would always carry guilt, no matter the outcome.
Stopping her tracks at a movement in a ruined house along what had once been a street like any other, she took a moment to dry her hands on her uniform before she took a step in the direction of the house.
“Hey, kiddo, you want some chocolate? Got some saved just for you.”
A young child cowers in the cover of the ruins of what once must have been someone’s home, however all traces of its former inhabitants had been blown away by the armed men fighting one another, the poor house had just been caught in the middle - unable to hide as she was. She sits in dark solitude with a large coat draped across her shoulders and a filthy map in her hands. How many days has she been away from home? Fourteen days since her father hid her under the floor. Fourteen days since she escaped by the skin of her knees as her home burnt behind her. Ten days since she was first held so impossibly close by Filipe Maximiano as she felt his tears on the top of her head as he thanked the gods for her survival. Seven days since he sat her in a car with five strange faces, all who looked upon her with such sad, mourning eyes as they swore their loyalties to her parents and drove out of Spain, and into France. Four days since the armed men stopped the car. Four days since Filipe took her by the hand and ran across the field as the five mourning faces drew their weapons. Three days since the war came so near the taste of smoke and gunfire coated every breath, three days since Filipe pushed a map into her hands as he stalked into the night, only to never return.
she’s startled by footsteps walking too close for comfort. She’s heard them for a while now, the firing and the sound of automobiles stirring the dust covering the streets, voices --- loud, male voices - booming and frightening. Yet the voice who choose to see her, the one who takes notice of a small mouse cowering in the shadows, is neither male nor booming, however - still quite frightening. Bellissa is not well practiced in the English language, yet chocolate is quite a universal word, especially among children. Cautiously a pair of deep brown eyes lift to hesitantly spy over the remains of the ruined wall, spotting the woman she assumes the voice belongs to.
‘ ------- is it safe ? ‘
hi nerds!! just wanted to do something nice for you guys since i’ve been pretty inactive writing wise this past week due to me being sick, so here’s a pack of psds made by me for you! they are super easy to edit and they come with an optional border/ overlay texture that can be adjusted to any size icon if you like them fancy! you don’t need to credit me, though i would appreciate if you didn’t claim them as your own, and please give this a like/ reblog if you’re going to use them! enjoy :*
DOWNLOAD.
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( everyone is giving bell food & i literally just want to hug all of you )
And the most beautiful smile award goes to…
hm, maybe she doesn’t speak english. traveling europe gave him many opportunities to pick up the different dialects all the people used, and he was able to pick up languages as quick as a bunny. gaze travels down to can, no label, no picture, no nothing, and he tuts. ❝ ‘n need t’eat tha’, ‘m friend! ❞ he quickly snatches it from her hands, and brings his other one into ragged pocket, grasping for the currency he had obtained while being in this area. ❝ i’ll bring ya’ t’ th’bakery, ‘n need t’worry! ❞ he turns on bare foot, telling her to follow with a beckoning finger.
dark suspicious eyes narrow in concentration at his words, desperately trying to decipher the cluttered mess of vowels or lack thereof, but she comes up short - she has absolutely no idea what the boy is trying to say (in all honestly she understood German better than she does English, this is a nightmare, she misses her church). Thin, bony hands jump at his sudden movement, and a sound of dismay escapes her as her can is snatched away - she worked hard to sneak that thing out of a travelers package, and worked even harder at trying to outrun said traveler after being caught. Her mouth opens in preparation to summon her non-existent English to fight for her canned whatever-it-is, but is interrupted by the boy turning to leave --- with her can. She fumbles into a standing position and stumbles over her feet to keep up with him, her large coat hanging from narrow bony shoulders flutter in the chilly wind as she follows the boy, eyes trained on the shimmering aluminium in his hand.
starter call. // @valcntia
‘ i’ve fallen to the ground, blame that all on hitler. my nose is in the gutter, you can point to ‘lini! i’m not a notary, because of rotten goebbels! i am a lil’ bird and that’s the fault of stalin! ‘
for the rest of the song, he whistles, hands in pockets. despite the war going on, mutt was still bouncing off street corners and stealing apples and pastries, chipping away at the soldier’s and citizen’s sorrows alike.
her linguistic skills is limited to the handful of phrases carrying fish from the docks had earned her; she felt pride in being able to twist and flop out words like DOLL and LITTLE MISS - however THUS FAR that knowledge had been proven quite USELESS. Upon hearing the ways some of these people twisted an already floppy and bent language EVEN FURTHER was disheartening, any hopes of catching on with the STRANGE PHONETICS any time soon was quite out of the question - she’s going to have to continue relying on VAGUE gestures for the little communication she does attempt. Thin fingers struggle against the aluminum currently keeping ---- SOMETHING CANNED (the’s no picture, and the letters hardly give any hint of what’s ACTUALLY in the can, she can only PRAY it’s edible, and even if it’s not, it’ll have to do )
