Mustn't Grumble.

Heaven knows we have suffered enough for our sins of the past. The splendid vision of an Anglo-Saxon brotherhood, making for the peace and security of the world, has been hitherto darkened and blurred by the unsavoury memories of Anglo-American dislike and distrust. Perhaps the presence side by side of the United States and Great Britain in the Great War has given us the chance of wiping the slate really clean. Those of us who can do noting else to further the good cause of Anglo-American sympathy and friendship can at least make sure that neither by word nor institution we foul the waters of past controversy, or allow passion or prejudice to obscure the serenity of our political judgments.

As I am second-in-command and in case anything should happen to you, what are your plans?

To beat the French.

‘They can’t fight’ - my take on a late 19th century print by F. Opper

I wanted to draw America in an Uncle Sam outfit but then I found a certain print and after cackling for ten minutes I decided I wasn’t missing out on the opportunity. The captions on the ribbons are taken directly from the print (which I’ll post under the cut).

Also if England doesn’t shift his leg very soon, someone’s gonna be in trouble~

“Or maybe I can learn this way,” Gilbert pondered out loud, surprised by his own confidence. Well, perhaps not confidence but rather his own insistence. He didn’t want to be taught by someone else, even if Arthur wouldn’t turn out to be the best instructor. He was fun and interesting. And he was his own age too, unlike the other bandmates, all older and even more intimidating to the German than Arthur had been initially. No, they wouldn’t do. Gilbert truly wanted to make this work, so he furrowed his eyebrows and swore to concentrate extra hard to make sure Arthur wouldn’t get frustrated and hand him over to another person. 

The punk was far more courteous now than he had been in the classroom weeks prior. Instead of insistently pushing himself against Gilbert, he acted almost shyly right now, touching him very gently. This somehow made the kid’s heart flutter even more anxiously than it had back then, with dozens of pupils staring at the scene they were causing in the classroom and that sour teacher screaming everything he had to say. (Albeit for a good reason.) His skin raised in goosebumps over the area Arthur touched through his sleeve.

Releasing a breath he hadn’t realised he had been holding, Gilbert pulled the guitar into his lap and placed his fingers on the strings in the way the punk guided him. He held the cheap instrument carefully and brought his thumb down to strum all of the cords in order just to test how it felt. The clean sound pierced the silence in the bedroom. Gilbert grinned, lifting his gaze back up to Arthur. “Like this?”

“That’s it,” Arthur encouraged, adjusting Gilbert’s stance ever so slightly so that the guitar did not sit too awkwardly upon his lap. “Does it feel comfortable to you? I mean, as comfortable as it can, bein’ the wrong way ‘round.”

It did not matter how brash or confident he came across on the outside, in such close quarters as this, Arthur would have to be completely void of emotions to not experience a strong tinge of nervousness. Though he felt somewhat awkward in his own movements, he hoped that in Gilbert’s eyes at least he came across steady and self-assured. He wanted to impress this bloke, but not in an intimidating or shocking way; not in a punk way at all.

Arthur knew by now he had more of a thing for blokes than girls, but he seemed to always go about expressing that wrong. Every move he’d ever made on a bloke resulted in a black eye or sore balls or some shit, but maybe it could be different this time. If he played it cool; if he didn’t spring it on the bloke in his usual crass and tactless way, then maybe for once he’d get a good response.

“Right, lemme tell you about the stings then,” Arthur said, slowly maneuvering himself into a position directly behind the other so that he could glance over his shoulder to the fretboard. He slowly reached under Gilbert’s own arm to touch the guitar as well. “Listen carefully; you’re gonna wanna memorize these.” He positioned his own calloused fingers upon the strings. “From the thickest to thinnest we have E A D G B and E.” Arthur spoke softly as he pointed out each one, letting Gilbert gently strum them. “You can even make up some shitty mnemonics to help you remember: Eddie-Ate-Dynamite, Good-Bye-Eddie.” He chuckled slightly into the other’s ear; warm breath against pale skin. “Every-Acid-Dealer-Gets-Busted-Eventually.”