Soooo… I’ve Wanted To Do This Ever Since My Very Very First APH Art History Dumbness. A Parody, Of

Yes.

BORN TO MAKE HISTORY

More tea?

"It wasn't a nightmare, <...> it was something more real. Lying in my bed, I saw myself sitting behind the desk. He was writing something really fast with a half smile. He never raised his head and I didn't see my tears in his eyes"

From Andei Platonov's letters

"Проснувшись ночью… я увидел за столом у печки, где обычно сижу я, самого себя. Это не ужас, <...> а нечто более серьезное. Лёжа в постели, я видел, как за столом сидел тоже я и, полуулыбаясь, быстро писал. Причем то, которое писало, ни разу не подняло головы и я не увидел у него своих слёз".

Из писем Андрея Платонова

👅🥴🥵 upd.

And what was up with that hella depressing little clip of Flash’s mom not showing up to pick him up at the airport?!

end of american isolationism 

“Flouted as a father and as a statesman, he [Frederick William] treated his son (Frederick the Great] so ill as to lend colour to the suspicion that he wished him dead. Not content with impounding his books, forbidding him the flute, compelling him to see his mother by stealth, the tyrant actually rained blows on him in public, even in the camp of the Saxon King. “Had I been so treated by my father,” he is said to have exclaimed, “I would have blown by brains out, but this fellow has no honour.”

Unfortunately for Frederick William, the youth whom he thus outraged was Crown Prince of Prussia, and as such by no means lacked friends. To England, to Austria, and to his father’s ministers he was an important pawn in the game of politics. Some of the younger officers lent him countenance in the hope of favours to come. but the dearest friend of his life, Lieutenant von Katte, loved him to what he might be able to bestow. To Katte the prince confided his fixed purpose to flee from a tyranny that was past endurance. 

— W.F. Reddaway, Frederick the Great and the Rise of Prussia (1904)

(images: Frederick the Great on the left, Lieutenant von Katte on the right, and on the bottom is an illustration of the two of them strolling together)

“And who are you?,” the proud Lord said “That I must bow so low”

Only a cat of a different coat That’s all the truth I know

In a coat of gold or a coat of red A lion still has claws And mine are long and sharp, my lord As long and sharp as yours

____________________________

Belgium had never seen her brother in such a state before. He was pale and determined as he tore the letter from Spain to pieces. She knew what it had said. It had said that he must pacify William of Orange, or Spain would do it for him.

Spain’s fury was familiar, the look of abject anger on the Netherlands’ face was new. Though he was an imposing man with a stern demeanor, he was rarely angry. A stranger might read his quiet or his blunt nature as anger, she knew him well enough to know that it was not. This deathly silent man, white as porcelain, with a vein pounding in his temple, was truly angry.

She had wanted to say something to him since he had gotten the letter, but it was hard to imagine what could be said. She cleared her throat and tried, “You should speak to him. Surely he will understand if you go to Madrid.”

He exhaled sharply through his nose, and it made her jump. It was the first sound he had made since he received the letter. It only confirmed his deep anger.

Then, he spoke, “I have already told him that his taxes are too high. I have told him that his lack of tolerance for protestants is unreasonable. I have told him so many times that he must respect my nobility. I have said everything to him before, and he still sends me this. No, I am done talking to him.”

He held up the pieces of the letter, like she could not already guess what he was talking about.

She folded her anxious hands together so that they would not shake. His tone was worrying her deeply. She said, “But, what else is there to do? He is our lord whether you like it or not.”

He fixed his eyes on her, and they were deep and unyielding. Silently, he took the pieces of the letter and threw them into the fire. Then, he took every letter and order that he had piled in front of him, and placed them into the fire.

Belgium gasped and put a hand to her chest. He couldn’t mean what she imagined he meant by this.

The Netherlands watched the letters burn for a moment, and then said, “I do not accept his right to rule. I think it is time that we drove him out.”

She repeated, shock seizing her vocal cords, “‘We?‘ This is madness! He owns half of the world, and you think you can fight him.”

The Netherlands scoffed again, and said, “I know I am small, as David was to Goliath. I will win, because God favors me, and I will slay this giant.”

He took the rosary from his neck, the one that Spain insisted he wear, and tossed it into the fire as well.

Seeing the look of shock and horror on his sister’s face, he explained, “Antonio is corrupt, and his church in Rome is rotten to the core. I will have no more of either of them.”

She put her hand to her own cross, scared that he might take that next. Tears, from fear for him, welled up in her eyes. Her older brother, who had been her companion for as long as she could remember, felt like a stranger to her.

He was past her kind words or soothing touch, and it scared her. Nothing she knew would bring him back to reason. She felt tears coming in earnest now.

He stopped in his fit of destruction, and took her free hand in his own. He said, in the soft voice he had always used when she was upset, “Emma, don’t cry. Come with me, and we will make a new Republic for ourselves away from this cruel tyrant with tolerance and beauty.”

She felt like she could not swallow past the thick feeling in her throat. Looking at him hurt. She said, tears slipping down her cheeks as she spoke, “I cannot go with you, and I cannot bear the thought of Antonio hurting you. You know what he did in the New World-”

Her voice broke as she thought of the tales of cruelty that they had both heard. She couldn’t even imagine that happening to her brother.

Her vision swam with tears as she said, “Please don’t do this. Find some other way.”

He shook his head resolutely, “There is no other way for me except this.”

_____________________________

Dutch Revolt (1568–1648), APH Spain, Belgium, and the Netherlands

YES

All I want is to see Geoffrey from The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, Niles from The Nanny, and Alfred from Batman in a room together roasting people and possibly each other