I really like this song, cause it was the end of this like sort of emotional journey I had gone on. It was like, basically I had fallen in love with someone and was trying to woo them. And it finally came down to the fact that like.. “Just tell me if you want me. And if you don’t, then get away from me.” [...] We’d been having a very like passive-agressive sort of you know like… I was having an emotional relationship but we never really talked about how we felt about each other, we’d talk like hours and hours and hours everyday and like…
They didn’t hit that shit.
Yeah I don’t think you can say “shit” on CBC radio, can you?
Can’t you bleep it out or whatever.
I think you can now.
Yeah? Yeah basically we never hooked up. And we were basically dating and we talked hours and hours everyday and then I finally was like “What is going on between us?” you know. And I had written like all these pining, “come and get me”, “save me from myself”, “love me, why don’t you love me” songs and finally I just like sent this song to her and was like “what the fuck?”
You sent the song to this person?
Yeah I sent all the songs to the person. I mean I was making it very clear that I was attempting to woo her through music because I had a hard time talking about my feelings in general conversation. So I would send each song as I went along and you know we had a rough patch, I sent “Call It Off” and you know like each song represented a chapter in the journey that we were taking together. And then “Hop A Plane” was the last song and it was sort of my way of saying like “if this isn’t happening, you just need to let me know”. Which, that did not happen.
And so how did it end?
I mean it’s over, I mean… never happened.
They didn’t hit that shit.
Say it, it’s okay, it’s part of the therapy.
No it really wasn’t about “hitting that shit” I really wanted to like marry the person. I was in a very desperate state.
You wanted to hit that shit and get married.
One of my teachers is a German immigrant. A kid in that class was talking about how he wanted so and so, people with Hispanic sounding last names, to get deported first. He went on to talk about, or rather yell, how we should also be deporting the Muslims and the “n word"s and the faggots. My teacher finally spoke up and told him to get his butt back in his seat and keep his mouth shut for the rest of the hour. He yelled “and I hope YOU get sent back to Germany you bitch! I hope the plane crashes on your way there!” She called the schools security and dragged him out of class.
I was wearing a shirt that said NOT MY PRESIDENT and had an upside down flag pinned to my jacket. I had people all day trying to rip it off my jacket or yelling at me, overheard some kid in class talking about me and a handful of my other queer friends and how she hoped we wouldn’t be able to come to school anymore.
A few friends were carrying signs. One friend, the son of a disabled vet, walked around with a sign saying WE DIDNT WANT THIS with the disabled vet symbol on it. Some other kid ripped it out of his hands and yelled at him, saying he had no right to speak for vets he didn’t know. His dad suggested he make that sign along with all the others we were carrying around.
My dance teacher was sobbing. She hugged me as I came into class and just started crying. My acting teacher tried to give us a pep talk about our upcoming show and just broke down, telling us how much she loved us. My economics teacher looked dead, her eyes were red and I saw tear marks on her face as I came into class.
Today’s just been. Wild. I’ve felt so much love from my friends and so much hate from everyone else. I haven’t had a chance to really go anywhere but school. I haven’t talked to anyone in the real world really about it other than family. My neighbors are hardcore supporters. I’m worried for what might happen.
((A collaboration with @ask-aph-fruk I hope you like it! She’ll basically be illustrating this fic!))
A soft, gentle light gently cascaded into the living room with a sort of grace that only someone who was honestly cruel could hate. And even through his rather bitter and tough skin, Arthur wasn’t quite as cruel as that.
A sheet of silk was weaved tightly into a wooden embroidery circle as Arthur poked and pulled his needle with such precision as the Englishman was. The scene being stitched into the sheet of delicate fabric was a quaint, homey one that brought the thought of camping to his mind, with a large mountain bottomed by a bright blue lake with a shore of trees.
Arthur’s eyes did not faulter, even when he heard rushed footsteps racing down the stairs of his home.
“A-Angleterre,” Francis panted, and his chest heaved with the distress of trying to catch his breath. “I a-am sorry that I have to leave so soon from our visit here, but my boss has called me back to France on an emergency..”
Only now did Arthur’s eyes lift from his project. He would never really admit it, but he was slightly saddened by France’s words. However, with his pride, he shrugged off the rather silly emotion with a scoff. “Hmph. Very well then, it’s not like I expected anything more from you.”
The Frenchman straightened up his build, and looked at England. “It is not like I chose to do this, you know? I’m sorry, lapin, and I promise to make it to you somehow.”
“You can make it up to me by leaving.” Arthur rolled his eyes, and continued his work. Francis had to force down the grin that was rising in his throat, and he spoke.
“…I’m afraid you’ve forgotten that you’re my means of transportation when I’m here in London.”
Arthur paused, and let out a rather annoyed sigh as he stuck his needle twice through the tight fabric to keep it secure, and slipped the piece back into his threadbox. “Very well, then.” Arthur straightened out the few wrinkles in the pistachio-colored sweater he wore, standing up.
The car ride to the airport was rather silent, and Francis did his best to speak without smiling. Arthur simply drove, ignoring most of France’s comments, before arriving at the airport with him. “Have a nice trip.”
France’s face turned into a look of falsified sadness, and offence. “Aren’t you going to watch my plane take off, lapin?”
Arthur sighed, and let his head fall forward onto the steering wheel, before once again repeating his earlier statement; “Very well, then.”
The lobby of the airport was busy, as most airports were. Arthur sat on one of the couches after buying himself a bottle of water, and he watched France at the reception desk to recieve his tickets and be passed onto safety checks.
England sighed, now sitting in silence. He didn’t know why he was still sitting there, frankly. France wouldn’t notice if he left. But there was a feeling somewhere within his gut, that just told him to sit.
He soon found himself chatting with people. Some were annoyed, and some were emotional. He remembers one particular woman who simply sat and cried on his shoulder, despite his protest, because her son had departed to his new home in France.
After his short, yet somewhat dandy conversations with these strangely nosy strangers had ended, England was bored enough to watch the small security screen that showed the small tunnel in which people boarded the plane.
Though, something was different. Francis was walking backwards, and several people around him were carrying signs by their sides. On the outside of the tunnel, another camera followed France onto the asphalt of the landing strip, along with the sign holders.
Arthur watched curiously, as Francis stood in front of these people, as they lined up side by side behind him. The first lifted the sign. And then the second. And then the third. And finally, the last.
And the message was clear.
“Will you marry me?”
Every inch of England’s body was immediately thrown into paralysis, and he found his eyes tearing up a bit as he stared in awe at the screen. When he felt hands on his shoulders, he wiped the building tears furiously away, forcing his vision away from the screen.
He paced the lobby furiously as people congratulated him. But there was one question on Arthur’s mind; How would he give the other his answer?
The resolution came when he heard a familiar voice, and all at once, emotions flooded him one by one. He was angry, he was sad, he was shocked. But soon those emotions were bubbled over by elation, (with a sassy side of salty pride), and he simply nodded quickly in Francis’ direction.
Francis had accepted the small “Congrats!” or “Have a nice marriage!“s, from the strangers and staff in the lobby, on his way back out to Arthur’s car. And, boy, as soon as they were in the car, it was the waterworks.
Arthur leaned against Francis, sniffling and glaring up at him. "H-How dare you diminish me t-to tears in public..! You c-cheeky bastard..!”
France only laughed in response, and his fingers graced England’s hair. “You know, lapin, even if you had said no..”
Arthur looked up in curiousity, sniffling. “Mm..?”
Francis slowly grinned, looking down at him. “Your reaction was perfect~”
“Oh shut it! You’re a right pillock!” Arthur huffed, which lead to more laughter, and tickling, and kisses, and, thankfully, a happy marriage.
A happy marriage that blossomed from war and decay, into an airport induced proposal.
Koltira Deathweaver for the character rate thing! :3
looks: somewhat attractive | eh | not really my type | pretty | handsome | beautiful | stud | gorgeous | SWEET LORD MERCY
can you relate to this character on a personal level?: no | not really | somewhat | yes | they are me
would you date/be friends with this character in real life if they were real?: total bros | friends| best friends | date| become their steady boyfriend/ girlfriend | neither | i don’t know
| MARRY ME???
sign me the FUCK up 👌👀👌👀👌👀👌👀👌👀 good shit go౦ԁ sHit👌 thats ✔ some good👌👌shit right👌👌th 👌 ere👌👌👌 right✔there ✔✔if i do ƽaү so my selｆ 💯 i say so 💯 thats what im talking about right there right there (chorus: ʳᶦᵍʰᵗ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ) mMMMMᎷМ💯 👌👌 👌НO0ОଠＯOOＯOОଠଠOoooᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒ👌 👌👌 👌 💯 👌 👀 👀 👀 👌👌Good shit