#baudclaire

now is this a british stereotype or a capricorn stereotype

lmao same???

url: 5 / 5

icon: 4 / 5

theme: 4.5 / 5

mobile: 4 / 5

posts: 5 / 5

overall: 4.5 / 5

compliment: what up i’m jared i’m 19 + i never fucking learned how to read

following: y / n / +f

intelligent, shy, awkward. very logical and rational. somewhat pessimistic and conservative? tactful, loyal, sarcastic. non-believers. reserved. fiercely independent with respect to sagittarius as a black moon/lilith. 

thank you sweetie! :-) 

talk about the best birthday you've had: ok best birthday was when i celebrated it with a friend from school whose birthday was the same as mine (this is many years ago, i was probably 10 or smth). we invited everyone from class and had it horror themed, so our parents helped us decorate with spiderwebs and candy that looked like eyeballs and toy bats. and my mom made three bowls go around while we were blindfolded and we had to touch whatever was in there, not even to guess what it was, just to get creeped the fuck out. and it was so much fun, i still keep the teddy bear that one of the girls gave me as a birthday present because she gave the same one to the other girl and idk i feel like it was just a really happy day

talk about your worst fear: i think dying unaccomplished. i have fought a lot in my life, and i’m afraid that i’ll just stop, or it’ll all be for nothing, and ten years from now i’ll be married with kids and some stupid job that no one will remember me for, and i’ll have stopped writing. so maybe it’s more living unaccomplished. i want every day to be a challenge, to every day challenge myself and the world and try to make both grow.

talk about your guilty pleasures: i drink a lot of coke and watch a lot of netflix when i should be studying

YOU WATCH IN THE FLESH how have we never talked about this???????

B e r l i n ,   1 9 2 0

Not a sound was heard in the graveyard. This sort of silence, complete silence, seemed ominous in a world so used noise. It was, after all, Germany in the fateful first years of the millennium; in the beginning of our 20s, the 20s that would roar so much louder here than they did in the rest of the world.

But, for now, it was silent. The world held its breath.

I felt like an intruder, with my loud steps crunching in the snow.  But the huddled black crowd barely seemed to notice me as they stepped aside to make way for me. Only a few noses, peaking from between their hats and scarves, turned rosy by the cold, turned my way. Inside the circle of mourners, our breaths became a shared fog.

I knelt before the gravestone. It was covered in red flowers, but I knew the inscription by heart. Rosa Luxembourg, assassinated 15th January 1919.

‘I was, I am, I shall be,’ I whispered under my breath before laying my flower among the rest.

We all knew that this was not going to be the end. The Republic was fragile at best, and certainly not a solution that was going to last for long. Some great earthquake seemed to be underway; the world itself was shifting beneath our feet. Still, there had to be some linearity to the way history moved, some justice to the way the world worked. And so, we held our breath and hoped for a better tomorrow.

We were good at that, weren’t we? Hoping.

At night, in smokey, underground clubs, the jazz swung off the walls. The earth was shifting, but we were still dancing.

The ominous silence that day had turned to a despondent lull by nightfall. I leaned a little heavier than usual on Bastian’s arm as he led me through the snow, our breaths becoming puffs of bluish grey fog in the cold.

‘It’s not that far now,’ he assured me.

My teeth chattered a little when I spoke. ‘I hope not.’

He led me down a few steps to a door painted in fading green. With a push, it opened, and warmth hit my face as the blues floated out into the night. With a gentle push at my waist, Bastian led me inside.

In here, everything was warm and fuzzy; the bottles behind the bar glistened in the light, a poor competitor to the glittering sequins and glowing diamonds of the women’s dresses. Yet, it was not bright; the whole scene seemed soaked in amber, weighed down by something in the air. No couples danced, and even those few who were standing had hunched shoulders and downcast eyes.

Bastian pulled me down the rows of booths, towards the back of the bar where it was darker, quieter.

I noticed her right away. He hadn’t brought me to meet her, not specifically; I later found out that he’d spoken enthusiastically about her, but that’s not why I noticed her. No, it was simply that, out of all the people in the room, she was the only one standing straight.

She had an indifferent air about her. The way she held herself, her back straight, her chin raised, as if ready to take on the whole world — and yet, at the very same time, something luxuriously lazy, like a lion resting in the shade. Her eyes drifted about the room with a look as if everything they found was excruciating in its boredom — and then they met mine.

For a split second, I forgot to move. My step faltered, my breath hitched, and the moment she looked away, my heart twisted painfully. I wanted her to look at me, to never look away from me, to never want to look away from me.

Her eyes drifted from mine to Bastian’s, and then her face underwent a metamorphosis like no other. Excitement bubbled forth in her eyes and her lips broke apart in a beam.

‘Bastian!’ she called out and started making her way to us. She wasted no time cradling his shoulders and pressing her lips to each of his cheeks. ‘How’ve you been? It’s been so terribly long!’

‘Too long,’ he agreed. ‘Have you met Miss Goebel yet?’

She turned to me, the smile still intact on her face. ‘I haven’t had the pleasure.’ She held out her hand; she wore no gloves in spite of the weather, and her nails were neatly manicured — although the polish was chipped on her little fingers. ‘I’m Karoline Behrend.’

I noticed that her hand was cold and wondered if it was because of the lack of gloves. ‘Frieda,’ I said.

She held her hand in mine a little longer than necessary, keeping her eyes on mine. There was something strange about the way she watched me; her eyes seemed liquid, constantly close to drifting away. It held a hypnotic power; you had to keep looking, to see how long you could make her stay focused.

oooooh thanks sweetie! i always get so curious about the scarlet one tbh