They Call You Lady Luck
“Lord Lucien was the man of the hour and the world of the Mediterranean was greatly impressed by his heroic leadership in the defense of Monaco. It had been a desperate fight though and King Louis XII of France suddenly worried that if a future attack ended differently it could be a threat to French security. As a result the King of France made it his mission to ensure that Monaco would be a French ally no matter what he had to do in order to get Monaco on side and keep them there. The famous (or infamous) Italian writer Machiavelli was forced to pay attention to these events and in 1511 he visited Monaco as a representative of Florence and their maritime interests. In Spain, King Ferdinand the Catholic heaped praise on Lord Lucien for his defense of Monaco and in 1512 a new assertion of Monegasque independence was made and Lord Lucien began to mint his own currency, featuring his own profile. Nonetheless, it was clear that Spain and France were developing a rivalry over who would be the guardian big brother to little Monaco.” — Mad for Monaco (via quatrequartiers)
Gravity Falls sentence pack
"Please be a vampire, Please be a vampire."
"The future is in the past."
"I have an ax."
"I ate a man alive, tonight."
"Awwh! You sneeze like a kitten!"
"And here we have 'Rock That Looks Like a Face Rock.' The rock that looks like a face."
"You killed my father again! You take that back!"
"Now who wants to put on blindfolds and get into the back of my truck?"
"Wait a minute, this is some kind of magicky thing, isn't it?"
"Is that throw-up on your shirt?"
"That sounds like an idea for poopyheads!"
"Aww man...I feel like a big jerk!"
"Do you realize what this means? It means you have to go trick or treating with us!"
"Check it out! I successfully bezazzled my face! ...Ow!"
"Oh, sorry. I was looking for the mail man."
"Are you crying?"
"Quit hitting myself! Quit hitting myself!"
Somebody Screwed Up Starters
"Care to explain yourself?"
"What were you thinking?!"
"I cannot believe you!"
"You made a big mistake."
"I’ll never forgive you for this."
"You are grounded for a month!"
"I wish I could say I was surprised."
"I should have seen this coming."
"I trusted you."
"I thought you were better than that."
"Why should I give you another chance?"
"You did what?!”
"I thought you learned your lesson last time."
"You’ve really screwed up this time."
"Don’t even bother saying you’re sorry."
"You can’t talk your way out of this one."
"Yes, I still love you."
"We’ll move past this. Somehow."
"You’re going to spend the rest of your life making this up to me."
"I think you owe somebody an apology."
"Someday we’ll look back on this and laugh."
"Sure it was," Erik rolled his eyes, "Why don’t we go for a trip with a plane, You’ll fucking love that," he couldn’t resist flashing her a grin. She was bluffing, and badly. So much for that famous pokerface.
Erik managed to suppress a laugh, finding the chocolate with ease. After all, he had bought it last time. He broke off a piece and added it to the mug. It was really ruining the good coffee, but that was an argument for another day.
"You invited me here," Erik hissed, "Considering you spent a few nights at my place last week," he added. "Maybe for some of us the caves are still considered home," he said bitterly, gritting his teeth and trying once more not to get so worked up. This was stupid. He was being stupid.
"And from your viewpoint it’s another hundred years before I dig myself out of it too," Erik near growled the last words. He felt the need to defend his people and his own pride as a nation. Which he knew was stupid because this was Cécile. He didn’t need to prove anything to her in modern day, but this woman was grinding on his nerves and he still hadn’t had any coffee.
"Sure. You do that. Good luck navigating the phone. You’ve got no servants to post your requests here," Erik waved her off.
He remained in the kitchen for a while. staring up at the ceiling and trying to calm himself down.
He always imaged a real fight with Cécile would go down badly on both parts, stubborn a they both were, but this was going in all the wrong directions.
Erik’s knuckles were white and his nails dug into the palms of his hands with great force.
He exhaled and grabbed his own mug of coffee, taking a large swig of it and sighing at the bitter taste.
A re-fill later he felt a bit more calm.
He grabbed his own mug and the one for Cécile and walked into the living room, placing it on the coffee table.
"I’ll be in the office," he grumbled and disappeared into the guest bedroom Cécile had halfway converted into a little home office.
His words were meaning less and less to her. ‘Plane?’ ‘Phone?’ As far as she knew her was speaking nonsense, he had to be in even these increasingly unfamiliar surroundings! The implications that they spent nights upon nights together and he was still a stranger to her- the confusion and anger had balled into one swirling mass in her head and stomach no matter how long she closed her eyes, pressing her face into the brocade couch pillow.
Cecilia was going to be ill. She knew it. Gingerly she set the pillow down and took the coffee set before her when she was sure Norway was out of sight. A few sips and her hands steadied themselves. Her mind was still racing but it was better. Just a little bit better.
Standing up, she smoothed her skirts and began snooping about. She didn’t recognize the large, glossy books on the coffee table or the table itself. Everything looked rather plain. Simple. Sleek. Oddly dull even. Was there anything she would recognize other than the building itself? A frame, an end table, an odd knick knack; was that what was left that she knew? Things she didn’t recognize were too in high supply and she tried to block them from her mind.
Ring. Ring. Ring.
She jumped and without thinking, she found herself running to her office, wherever it was, knocking on every day somewhat frantically. “Make it stop Erik! Make the noise stop please!”
«Can I punch 1870 Mona in the face?»
"Really? Outside? What did you think of todays cars then? Or even the fashion today? Because if you went outside like that people would think you were part of a theatre group," Erik chuckled. She looked good in them, but it was certainly a strange sight to behold.
Erik doubted she had even taken a proper glance outside her windows. Things had changed a lot, even old buildings wouldn’t look the same.
Ignoring her adventures through the kitchen, Erik put the coffee on, and found two mugs, waiting patiently for the machine to finish.
"You want cream and sugar in yours?" he asked, not sure if this Cécile even drank coffee, but if she did he doubted she drank it neat.
"You’re in the year 2014. Probably by magic," Erik shrugged, "Don’t fret, you’ll likely be back home where you belong in a day or two. It seldom lasts for long," he hummed and tapped his fingers against the countertop.
"Nerve?" he near spat, not at all amused anymore by the whole scenario. "Excuse me for not jumping onto the wealth train as early as you did," he hissed at her. He paused and took a deep breath. No need to make himself even more angry he told himself. Closing his eyes and trying to calm down.
"I’ll speak however I want," he scoffed and turned to pour coffee into the mugs - he needed something to hold and something to distract himself with. Breathe in and breathe out, he repeated to himself over and over again till he felt his anger subdue.
"I could just leave you here, but seeing as you have no idea what anything in this flat does, you’d likely burn down the whole building trying to figure out the light switches,"
That and Erik didn’t actually have a cold enough heart to leave her alone when she was clearly out of the loop of this time period. It could only end in disaster, although his own presence wasn’t really making it better.
"Everything was as it should be." A bluff. It didn’t even fool herself but she did not want him to be right. There was no magic, only God and he would never inflict something like this on her.
Through her wandering and poking through the cabinets, Cecilia Gore more and more unnerved. Curious perhaps but the best she could summon up was a mumble at the question.”…A square of chocolate too.” She slammed the drawer she was examining closed, all semblance of self control gone to the wind with the stress.
"You come into my home, scare me into near needing a doctor and take that tone with me; most of us have the decency to pretend weren’t raised in barns and caves.” Her voice rose in anger, not just in volume but unfortunately pitch too. “Not a decade ago I could not eat-not as if you need to know- and you are here scoring me for finding a way to dig myself out!” If she wasn’t so determined to be a lady she would…No, no, she was trying to shake that image of street crime but he enraged her. What she needed was her fan to sooth the scarlet flush rising quickly.
"Why don’t you then if you insist on being so rude? I can do all of this on my own just fine, I could send for Francois and he could take care of everything." As defiantly as she could, she marched out of the kitchen to the sitting room, angrily fighting with her skirts as she settled on a far too soft couch, trying not to look at anything. Or rather, holding a pillow to her face and imagining this all away.
"1870?" Erik repeated. Well fuck, what was he doing back then? he scratched his chin and the faint traces of a morning shadow there as he tried to remember. The current king had been Charles XV, so that meant he was still living with Sweden at that time. Well, making Sweden’s life more miserable was perhaps more accurately, but that was a thought for another day.
"While yes; this is your apartment, I can assure you you’re no longer in 1870. Take a look outside and you’ll see that times have changed a lot…" He wondered what she’d do if he took her for a trip around the race track.
"Suppose no one really cared back then," Erik shrugged, "Although do pray tell me; does this place really look like your home?"
Cécile’s taste in furniture was grand, but there was no denying this was a much more modern flat than anything found in 1870. Kitchen alone was undeniably filled with modern contraptions to make life easier.
"Eh," Erik shrugged, "No. Not often at least. Never was the one for large parties or dressing up in stiff clothing. Spent most of the 1800ds fucking things up for Denmark and Sweden, trying to gain independence and salvaging what little was left of my own language and culture," Erik frowned. "That or I wasn’t rich enough to join your fancy little balls without looking like I’d been invited out of pity," he sneered the last word a lot more harshly than he intended.
"Apologies," he muttered and rubbed his temples. "It’s far too early for this," he groaned, taking a step away from Cécile and towards the coffee machine. He knew where everything was from now, and while the woman standing before him was perhaps not happy about him using her kitchen, he comforted himself with the knowledge that /his/ Cécile didn’t care.
As confounded as this Erik of Norway was, it was firm in her mind that he was still in the wrong. Exposing himself to a lady would be the least of his charges and even as asylum run by the most charitable of doctors and nuns would make sure to punish him for that. It was not a time for pity.
"I did go outside I’ll have you know." The woman scolded at him, hiding how much the noise of horns and tires startled her into running inside without taking so much as a peak around. If she were to look around more closely, Cecilia would have been keenly aware of the peculiar clothes and vehicles roaming about and in dire need of smelling salts. Was this lack of awareness self preservation or just a sign she needed optical help more directly than she would ever admit.
Despite her certainly, she did start to look around. This was certainly her home, the floor plan was the certainly the same but where were her wallpapers? This was not her countertop and these cabinets were very plain. Dropping the fire poker she stepped into the oven area, fingers gliding over the odd surfaces before her eyes widened greatly at the odd things on the counter. They lit up when she touched then cautiously and just as quickly, she gasped, withdrawing her hand.
"What is going on…?" The mumble that escaped was quiet, almost scared, the woman biting her lip. Was this a dream? A punishment for indulging so much so quickly? Eyeing the church’s sculptures too keenly during mass."-The nerve of you," Cecilia’s fear switching to outrage at the tone he took with her.
“Never speak like that again.”
"Oh for the love of Odin…" Erik sighed and hung his head low for a moment. Great. Just fucking fantastic. "Nevermind. You clearly won’t believe me even if I told you," he groaned and rubbed his eyes, wincing at the thought of having to try to explain how the hell they got together in the first place. "Welcome to the year 2014," he sighed. "You’ve been a bit misplaced it seems," the only humour in this situation was that there was potentially existence of a modern day Cécile running around the 1800ds having the time of her life.
"Yes. My land borders Sweden, Finland and Russia. I don’t know what year it is where you’re from, but I went back and forth between my brothers a lot from what you might know…" Erik frowned at the memory.
"Ah yes. I’m sure I was dragged along to some fancy ball to be shown off as some great prize from war," he rolled his eyes, he’d never been the one for the grand parties, especially when it usually involved Denmark or Sweden’s bosses boasting about how much they now had due to owning his lands too. "Always nice to know I’m at least a footnote in history," Erik grumbled and ran a hand through his still messy hair, trying to smooth it down somewhat.
"Is that a sort of joke, a strange Norwegian custom? It is 1870. No later, not earlier. Did you bump your head?" Her brows furrowed as she bravely stepped forward, peering -or rather, squinting- up at the man. She would need a cigarette or a drink after this. After the man had gone of course. " I know exactly where I am, I am in my apartment by the Prince’s Palais."
Her frown was that of concern as her fingers fiddled with the iron. “I have only heard bits and pieces, news before the railroad tracks did not travel so fast through the cliffs you know. You can hears bits by the ports but it a risk to linger too long by there.” She was frustrated by him pointing out her ignorance or so it seemed to her.
"I hardly think I saw you." She muttered, not without some slight nose up turning. "Not unless you have frequented the French or Italian courts." If that tidbit was true she would feel a pang of empathy for him but as she had yet recovered from his nearly nude form, it had time coming.