Wwi - Blog Posts

Well, maybe they were took the same at the same day and almost at the same time. One before the another.

But i also thought they were the same, my life is a lie

I just realized these are two completely different photos. 

tolkien: all the war and death in lotr has nothing to do with the war i was in

tolkien: just like how all the morals/good vs evil/everything my characters believe have nothing to do with my morals/beliefs/religion

tolkien: and that character that comes back from the dead has nothing to do with my religion which is based on someone coming back from the dead and uses coming back from the dead as metaphor literally constantly so don’t get any ideas

tolkien: and none of those giant evil spiders have anything to do with the tarantula that bit me either

clive staples: jirt youre literally so stupid

tolkien:

clive:

tolkien: that really slow grumpy tree who takes forever to get to the point or make up his mind is definitely you though

In the Fields We Lie

Hello! This is going to be a multiple part story. It’s about Harry and his life before, during, and after World War I. I hope whoever comes across this enjoys it! I encourage feedback of any kind! Also, I am not sure of some writing/punctuation rules so please point those out especially! Happy reading :)

Word count: 3k

TW/Warning: None

Prologue

They say that in the midst of darkness and a time where nothing prospers, the mind tends to wonder. This is the time where inspiration strikes and masterpieces are made. There is, more than anything else we have in the world, is time. What we do in that allotted space is up to us to choose. What shall we occupy ourselves with? Where shall we let our minds wander off to? Distant lands or perhaps a reality that we dream of that is better than our present? Do you dream of being in your lover's arms? Or do you wish you could have taken back those harsh words you said to your mother recently? Others have to think quickly, in a fraction of a second, or else they will not live to see the light of day. In that darkness there is chaos and when everything turns quiet, is that moment of primal instinct to save your life or to accept that death will grab you and bring you to a hell that you have not seen yet. Anything to keep the mind busy in times of hardship is crucial. That is how we survive. The silence, especially in the time of war, is deadly, so deadly that it could turn anyone crazy.

Every soul is trying to keep themselves safe and there is not an option otherwise, unless they have lost their way, lost hope. Those are the people you have to take care of, to watch out for because without community and camaraderie there is no purpose. Without care for others is the destruction of oneself. Without out the care for oneself is to rot. Those who only think of the betterment of themself are soulless. To be self-sufficient is another story. To have support behind you, next to you, in front of you, gives you strength. To know that others are experiencing life similar to yours is comforting because ultimately you’ll feel less alone.

—

Manchester, England

5 June, 1914

Friday

In the summer of 1914, Harry Styles was a young and innocent soul. He was only worried about getting to work on time and pleasing the cute girl next door. Even though his life was simple he enjoyed it very much.

It was a particularly hot morning, especially for the beginning of June. No clouds in the sky to provide any shade on the way to work, making Harry sweat. Having to take off his work shirt so he doesn’t stain through it, even though it’ll be twice as bad inside. Sun hitting his pale skin, he hasn’t had the time to be outside to give himself a healthy glow so this is a perfect opportunity. He might get a horrible tan line from his undershirt but Harry’s okay with that. What he isn’t okay with is his inability to stop daydreaming about his neighbor, and that is exactly what he does walking two kilometers to work.

They are acquainted, Harry has helped her move furniture, tried to fix her shower pipes once but failed miserably, leaving him no other option but to pay for maintenance and to allow her access to his washroom. She had occasionally made him food whenever he came home late, or she would purposely bump into him in the morning before work to put a smile on his face. They enjoy each other's company so much that they go to the market together to buy groceries. Sometimes Harry stargazes in the park right below their building and she’d see him through her kitchen window, and she would join him anytime she caught him. They’d always lay in silence, enjoying the presence not only from one another but the vast universe above them.

In this particular moment all Harry can focus on is her being in his home, using his shower. Being the gentleman that he is, he respected her privacy when she was over to wash up, which was every night for a week. But he also couldn’t, and presently cannot help but to imagine her beautiful figure underneath her clothes. He would hear her hum to herself in the shower, she slipped once and she screeched but then laughed hysterically, it was heavenly. Seeing water drip from her hair was adorable. Her coming over made Harry feel whole, made his flat less lonely. There was one instance where she had forgotten a change of clothes, and that was the night Harry knew he was truly in love with her.

—

Harry was making some boiled chicken and pasta when he heard the shower handle squeak and a handful of choice words fall from his beautiful neighbors mouth. He assumed that she was rushing too fast while getting changed, she had a date who was waiting on her outside the building. Jealousy raged over him when she told him that there was a man taking her out to dinner. It was someone she knew in grade school, she told Harry that she bumped into him while she was at one of her friends' weddings. The negative emotions he was feeling quickly dissipated when she said his name.

“Harry…”

She sounded worried. Why was she worried? Was she nervous?

“Fran, I know your nerves are getting the best of you, but I’m sure you look lovely…” He turned around to find her in just a towel. Eyes widened, jaw dropped, and heart racing at a million miles an hour. Too stunned to speak, Harry quickly spun on his heels so he wasn’t starring. “Shit, I- I’m, I-”

She’s now laughing at his embarrassment. All worry washed away from her voice, “I forgot my dress. I guess I was so excited to get ready that I forgot it. Can I borrow a blanket or shirt to cover up in?” After a few moments of silence she walked up to him and tapped his shoulder and spoke, “Harry, it’s okay, turn around.”

He did as he was told, making sure that when he did, he only looked into her eyes. She was so beautiful, so confident in her body and in herself to let a man she wasn’t with, to look at her when she was indecent. A strand of hair fell into her eyes, before she could move it herself Harry gently pushed the lock behind her ear. Both of their breaths caught in their throats but Harry managed to whisper, “I’ll um, go grab you a shirt.” He never walked so fast in his life. Making sure he picked out a nice shirt that smelled good was top priority. He ended up dabbing some cologne on the collar just in case.

She was too busy admiring the books on his bookshelf to notice that he had come back so he cleared his throat before speaking, “Fran, you better change quickly before your date thinks you’ve fallen in the toilet.”

“Ha, ha. Very funny Styles. Gimme that.” Snatching the shirt like it was hers to begin with. She disappears behind the washroom door and reappears seconds later it seems like, but maybe that’s from the state of shock Harry’s still in. Fran has to ask him this twice to get his full attention, “Will you watch for any unwanted eyes as I walk to my flat?”

“Of course I will. Let me see your key so I can unlock your door so you don't have to struggle.” Walking past her is painful, he can feel his excitement pushing against his trousers, it’s only just started but he needs to be free of Fran soon or else she’ll see. Walking the hall fast but lightly, not to make a ruckus and concern the nosey neighbors. He unlocks her door and sets her key on the small table that sits just to the right of the door. Making sure that no one is in sight he quietly calls out her name. She holds her dirty garments to her chest as she speed walks to him. As soon as she’s in her doorway Harry stands in front of her, both arms outstretched, with hands grabbing the baseboards to make for a better cover for Fran.

They are extremely close again, both of their hearts are pounding so hard it’s a surprise they can’t hear each other's heartbeats. “You better have fun on your date. Hurry along then, you don’t want to miss him.”

“Oh, I will. And don’t tell me what to do.” Fran winked at him and then closed the door in his face. Harry smiled and walked back to his flat. He ended up burning his pasta on the stove. If this was any normal night, he would have lost his wits if he burned his pasta, but he made an exception for the gorgeous woman that stole his attention.

—

Ever since that incident, a very particular image of Fran has been taking over Harry’s mind. The shirt that Harry gave her was a pale pink shirt and he never realized, that without an undershirt underneath, that it was sheer. When Fran came out of the bathroom, her hair had gotten the fabric around her breasts wet. It was only for a brief moment that he looked, and Harry swears that she did it on purpose. She was perfect, everywhere. He thought he saw her smile when he looked at her the way he did, she seemed almost satisfied. An angelic devil she is.

Too distracted by his thoughts, he barely realized that he was arriving at work: Taylor the Tailor: “Let Taylor, Tailor You!” was displayed above the building in bright red lettering. It was a quaint little shop that sparked Harry’s interest when he first moved to the city. Before he even asked for a position, he had to come in for a repair on a set of trousers. Long story short, while moving into his flat, he had slipped on some ice and ripped right down the bumline. Quite embarrassing, even more so considering one of his neighbors came out of the building right as it was happening and laughed. It turned out to be Fran. She still teases him about it.

His mum taught him how to sew, crochet, and knit, so already having experience was attractive to the owner, Mr. Taylor. He was hired on the spot actually. He loves everyone he works with and that’s the reason why he’s stayed with the shop for almost two years. He welcomes Mimi and Rena as he walks through the main room and towards the back to put his shirt back on before customers arrive. Harry can hear the two older ladies gossiping about who knows what but it makes him chuckle, they think they’re whispering but they’re both basically half deaf so they naturally talk loud.

“Ladies, ladies,” Harry interrupted them, “No need to whisper about how gorgeous I am, when I’m right here!”

Rena rolled her eyes, while Mimi stood up and made her way to him. Mimi takes his blue bowtie from his hand and begins to put it on for him. A little tradition that they’ve made. Harry is fully capable of doing it himself but he lets her. They both gain from it. “Thank you, my darling,” He kisses her on the cheek when she’s finished, “And how are both of my girls today, ready for the weekend I assume?”

“Always ready for the weekend, Styles. Two days out of the week where I am free of you.”

“I’m truly hurt by your words Rena. You know what that does to my ego. Everyone loves me, right Mimi?”

Mimi laughs, “You are very lovable Harry. Rena is just an old fart. You’d think after so many years she’d warm up to ya.” That is exactly how each day goes. Rena is the sturn and conservative type but has her moments, Mimi is a freer spirit and can get along with both of her coworkers, and Harry is, well, Harry.

The day is long and hot, everyone is being careful not to sweat on any of the clothes that they’re working on. And their day has only gotten longer, because right before five o’clock a woman comes in. She is in desperate need of fixing her husband's work attire that her children  had shredded with scissors. Three shirts and four trousers. She was a fairly sweet woman and she would pay them extra to get it done for her by Monday morning. They all obliged. Harry was surprised Rena hadn’t complained in front of the customer, but as soon as the woman left Rena said that she would have left if it weren’t for the extra money. Typical.

To make things fun, Harry took on three garments that were badly damaged, and told the ladies he would finish all of them before they finished their two pieces. This didn’t amuse Rena, but she ended up finishing before him and she was greatly satisfied, giggled even. Getting out of the shop around half past nine was quite impressive and everyone patted themselves on the back for the hard work.

“Get home safe my loves, I will see you later. Rena, you better think of me!” He yells at them when they’re about to round the corner of the street. It makes Rena furious.

The weather changed within the last two hours, clouds moved in just as the sun was setting and rain came midway through Harry’s walk home. He usually doesn’t mind walking through the rain, but when the lightning starts Harry would much rather not turn into a crisp so he runs. He slips once and one of his legs extends too far out in front of him, almost ripping his pants, again. It was a close call, the amount of stretch he felt was worrisome. As he approaches his building, he notices an all too familiar Rolls-Royce that belongs to someone who is the epitome of rubbish. Someone who is used to getting his way, maybe it’s the money he has or possibly the fact that he has not struggled a day in his life. Harry is reluctant to go inside the entryway but likes to make this man suffer.

“Hello, Dick! It’s awful seeing you here,” Harry coldly welcomes him, “Where will you be taking Fran tonight?”

“For the last time, it’s Richard. And it should be none of your business, but I know she’ll tell you anyhow. We are going to my brother’s engagement party, and before you say anything-” “Speaking of engagement, when will you ever ask Fran to go steady with you? Oh wait, that’s right, you were too busy getting your dic-” By the look on the other man's face, Harry knew Fran was walking up to them, “Dick! So lovely to see you mate!” He then turns around, smiles at his beautiful neighbor as he walks up to her, whispers for her to be safe, and heads up to his flat. In the stairwell Harry could hear Dick tell her how much he annoys him, and that is always his goal.

“Such a nosey neighbor…”

“I think he’s perfectly fine, Richard. Leave him be…” Her voice is so soft. She wouldn’t be talking so tenderly to him if she knew that he was seeing other women besides her. It infuriates Harry to his core, but he can’t tell her because she would rip him a new one and he does not need anything else being torn apart. Second, Fran would be so devastated and Harry doesn’t want to deliver that news to her. She will find out sooner or later, and Harry prays that he gets front row seats to Dick getting his balls kicked in.

—

The storm only got worse throughout the night. The power went out shortly after Harry got home. Currently at the kitchen table reading a book but failing horribly from sore eyes, waiting for Fran to be dropped off. At this point it could be likely that she had to stay with Dick and his family, which is revolting. It’s none of Harry’s business where she is, who’s she with, and he shouldn’t be waiting up for her but something isn’t sitting right. Looking back on it now, it seemed too late for an engagement party. Maybe it was a surprise and maybe the couple went out to dinner while everyone set up? He needs to go to bed and stop worrying, Fran is a grown woman and she’s more than ready to stick up for herself. She’s fine.

Looking out of his window one last time, to make sure he doesn’t miss her, is when he sees headlights crawling towards the building. Assuming it’s Fran, Harry sighs in relief and heads to his washroom to get ready for bed. As he gets done brushing his teeth is when he hears her walking up the stairs and decides to meet her in the hallway. Knowing she can barely see up the stairs from the power outage, he brings out a candle to give her when she gets home.

“How was your night out Miss Fran?” He says to her as she reaches the last step but she’s too quiet. He walks closer to her once she reaches her door and leans against the wall. She looks sad. Her eyes and nose are red, Harry can make out where the tears streamed down her face. His stomach flips and he feels nauseated instantly. What happened to her? He wants to ask but knows it’s not the time.

Her voice is hoarse, “You know Styles, you don’t need to wait up for me, it’s sweet but a little strange.” She half heartedly jokes. “My night was fine, thank you. See you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Of course. Here, take this…” He straightens up, taking a few steps to get closer to her, and he smells the alcohol coming from her breath. It must’ve been a rough night because she hardly drinks. Handing her the candle and keeping eye contact he whispers, “So you can see where you’re going. I’ll come get you tomorrow.” Harry wipes away a fallen tear from her face with his thumb and kisses her cheek in that same spot.

So softly she murmurs, “Goodnight Harry.”

“Goodnight Fran.”