#it's just that this decision by the eu would not give me hope for your future sorry

[ayeforscotland]

Is it weird to say I think your grievances are correct but your solutions aren't?

Like agreed the UK is a shithole and getting shitholier by the day in a menagerie of ways but I don't think independence would fix any of that? For Scotland anyway.

Like Scotland is probably one of the best places to be in the UK rn but once it's out of the UK it won't be able to keep doing the things that achieve that (currency trade fiscal deficit etc). Plus you have the Maastricht issue.

Its a weird place to be. Objectively better than the UK at large but only so far as it's a part of it.

Idk why I'm sending this to a Scottish independence blog like this is going to radically shift your perception of the world but eh.

I hope you know how weird you sound claiming that Scotland is uniquely incapable of being an independent country when there are successfully countries out there with less population and less resources.

You can’t just rhyme off ‘Currency, trade, fiscal deficit’ as if those problems aren’t what every other country faces.

Will we have a currency? Yes. We’ll need an independent currency. Whether or not we join the Euro will be dictated by whether or not we choose to meet the requirements of ERM II. If we want to delay joining the Euro we can simply fail to meet the requirements.

Will we trade? Yes. Rejoining the EU will give us access to the largest trading bloc on the planet. Our ability to trade is currently hampered in the UK.

Will we have a huge fiscal deficit? The UK government would certainly like to think that, but this really all comes down to negotiation. Currently, Scotland is *assigned* a proportion of debt the UK Government borrows. It’s not an indication of the economic decisions of an independent Scottish government.

If the UK does want to Scotland to take on its share of UK national debt, then Scotland will be entitled to its share of UK national assets.

I’ve been doing this a long time. Your points aren’t new, it’s what unionists were saying back in 2014 and since then the UK government has committed economic and social vandalism on communities with Scotland spending hundreds of millions to mitigate bad UK government policy like the Bedroom Tax.

Yes, there’s a lot of facets to independence but the most important thing for me is having the responsibility to make decisions for ourselves.

[madwomansapologist]

Hi, i was wondering if you could write a smutty Agatha fic based on the song "Hypnotic" by Zella Day? Every time i listen to this song, it makes my think of Agatha and reader 💜

you taking over me | agatha harkness

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synopsis: You were a good person. You spend you live making sure that everyone would think that. A good daughter, a good wife, a good neighbor. You were a good person, but Agatha Harkness didn't care about your goodness. [3K]

warnings: based on "hypnotic", by Zella Day. smut. non-consensual voyeurism (in so many ways). saphic couple. cheating (both you and agatha cheating on your husbands #feminism). oral sex. public sex. fingering. nudes. people pleaser!reader. kinda of manipulative!reader. female!reader. bisexual!reader.

ps: thanks for that rec! i didn't knew this song, and it is sooooo great. that vibe, that clip 🥵 (bisexuality really won that day), it's so Agatha coded. really anon, your mind is amazing. and dear anon, i have a rec for you "eu comi a madona", by Ana Carolina. even if you don't know portuguese or can't find a translation (and if you don't just send me an ask that i will translate everything for you), that song just scream: I WILL EXPLODE IF I DON'T FUCK HER. hope you like it! and i'm open for more songs recs!

You always knew who you were and what you would become. Indecision and uncertainty were not part of your life. You knew what people expect from you, so you gave it to them.

Mom wanted you to be nice. Dad wanted you to be assertive. Friends wanted you to be fun. Colleagues wanted you to be smart. Teachers wanted you to detach. Lovers wanted you to be the one.

It's easy to give people what they want when they are so obvious about their desires. You just needed to formulate yourself, and in response they too would give you what you wanted. It's a fair exchange.

People do so many things for those that reach their expectations. They give them a name, reputation, notoriety. They give them respect. They don't believe when they hear something negative about you, bitter truths become malicious lies for their ears, uncomfortable favors become the least that could be done for someone so kind.

And you always did reach them.

Good. All your life this word followed you around. Good daughter, good friend, good co-worker, good student, good neighbor, good samaritan. Good, good, good. It was only a matter of time until you were a good wife.

And then, when people thought you were the perfect girl with the perfect life, all you had to do was to be happy and enjoy the fruits of your hard labor. Enjoy all the things you build because you had a name, a reputation, notoriety. To enjoy your perfect, carefuly construct dream life. Your perfect home, your perfect job, your perfect husband.

So why are so discouraged? You should be the happiest person on earth, but nothing is interesting. No one is interesting.

Your husband was the right decision. The right man at the right time. He gave you everything you wanted, all the things you didn't even ask for, and made your reputation even better. Your parents love him. He should be the one, he is the one, but every second spent with him is a second you're lying to his face.

He bores you to the bone.

You don't blame him. You spent your whole life practicing smiles, faking orgasms, laughing forcefully so you would have what you wanted. You lied to get him, and you lie to kept him beside you. Why did you expect that after the marriage anything would change? You are the liar and the lie in this relationship, and he is who he always was.

So you resigned yourself to that. If in case to have the perfect life, to have everything you ever wanted, you need to kept pretending all the time... whatever. That's just another tuesday for you. A momentary unhappiness compared to everything else in your life isn't that important.

You were sunbathing the first time you met your new neighbor. And for sure you didn't knew you would met her.

For how long did you lay there, next to the pool, just letting the time pass and your mind wander? You don't know. You can't even try to guess. All you know is that the oil penetrating your skin made you smell like lavander. Your drink made your mouth sweeter and your legs weaker. Your bikini made the calm breeze carress your skin, and the sunglass on your face was helping you starting to fall asleep.

Put even with your guard down and mind free, you still just as able to feel when someone is looking at you. And what you felt made you guess if a burning gaze was trying to break into your soul.

You supressed your smile. Yes, your husband is a pain in the ass, but it's nice to feel desired. To feel wanted. Without opening your eyes, you slid your fingers down your body, the oil pooling against your digits. You could feel his gaze following your movements, looking at what you wanted him to. Behaving like the good pet he is. You lifted one of your legs and played with the tiny string that tied your bikini.

When you started to dismantle the knot, someone else's voice made you shiver. "Hello there, neighbor!"

You searched for the source of the voice, and found her on the other side of your fence. That was the first time you could've done something different. You could have walked away from there, covered your body with an towel, ignored her. You could've closed your fucking legs.

But you couldn't look away from her solstice eyes. You felt hypnotize by them. Her delicate smile, the soft skin of her exposed neck, her purple vintage t-shirt floating with the breeze. The malice on her eyes were so magnetic.

"Welcome, Agatha", she didn't seem surprised by you knowing her name. You took off your sunglasses, a perfect smile decoring your face. "Enjoying your new home already?"

Agatha was clearly working to organize everything. The hair tied in a loose ponytail, the hands dirty with white paint, the lack of makeup. You could see the tiredness, the effort, the dedication to make everything the right way. Agatha was natural. Genuine. You couldn't look away from her.

"Westview is... different. But I have a good feeling about this place", Agatha sounded so confident. So comfortable with herself. "I know for sure that I already love the view."

Your almost couldn't stop yourself from rolling your eyes. To hide your smirk you took another sip from your drink. And still, you couldn't just look away from her. You didn't even tried. "We're counting with your presence for this week's meeting."

"It will be a honor", Agatha took a step back, part of her body dissapearing behind the fence. "See you there."

Now you rolled your eyes, laying back to enjoy the sunlight. You could still feel her gaze lingering on your skin. Part of you wished Agatha was still looking.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The neighbors meeting wasn't necessary. It never is. And yet, you have a bright smile on your face. No need to say that it was a fake one, but gosh it was beautiful. Charming enough so people wouldn't look at your apathetic eyes.

Your mind was somewhere else. Somewhere way more interesting.

You had just finished getting ready for the neighbors meeting. Your husband wouldn't make it, he always fail to escape the rush. You were locking the main door when you noticed that you forgot to your perfume. With the lights off, you ran upstairs and opened your drawer.

Now smelling like your favorite fruit, you got goosebumps when cold air made its way throught your house. Closing your bedroom's window, you didn't choose to observe the other house. It just happened.

Agatha really liked purple. You think that it was her bedroom that you were seeing. A long bed, with dark sheets kneaded, had a few clothes on it. You could see her old, wooden wardrobe. Her wallpaper remind you of those scenes where movies show witch's houses.

Then Agatha entered her bedroom. Using only a towel.

You could almost sense the warmth of Agatha. The faint mist of the hot bath had followed her. You could see the water running down her exposed back, her hair dripping against the the towel she used to dry it. Her rose cheeks. They look so soft. You wanted to carress them.

You kept on watching when Agatha put oil on her hand and used it on her body. You followed her fingers, seeing the careful way she massaged her skin. And you kept watching as she opened a drawer on her wardrobe and choose her underwear. It was a simple, velvet lilac piece. She didn't put on a bra. And you did kept on watching her when Agatha dropped the towel.

A hot sensation passed thought your womb, a burning wave you couldn't control or deny its existence. You could feel the shiver running down you spine, the way unconsiously your thights rubbed against one another, the way you lose control of your heartbeat. You stopped breathing and didn't even noticed.

You didn't even tried to look away.

Your mind wasn't under your control anymore. Your imagination was free to go whenever it wanted to.

You saw you pressing your thigh against her thigh, begging to taste her. Yourself lost between Agatha's thights, eating her out like she was your last fucking meal. You fingers into her, hers into you, your bodies linked as one. Her smirk against your neck.

She's the kind of woman that deserve to be devoured. On all fours, side, front, back, bottom, standing. You saw yourself smear on Agatha for as long as she wanted you to. Trembling, moaning, cumming.

You watched as Agatha slid her legs into the underwear, choose between the black dress and the blue skirt, perfumed herself. You wondered what her scent would be. You admired Agatha while she chose what earrings to use, what shoe would look better with the dress, combed her hair.

You were late to the meeting. And there you couldn't even understand what they were talking about. All you could do was to focus on the way your womb itched, how a simple movement made your pussy fucking ache, how empty you felt. It was like your body missed her.

It was wrong. You know that it was wrong, and you also knew it while it was happening. And still, you couldn't look away. It was like Agatha put a spell on you. She's your magician, the owner of your eyes, a woman capable of hypnotizing you. You knew it was wrong, you just didn't care.

Hearing your neighbors discussing about why motorcycle's noises were impossible to ignore or forgive, trying to keep up with the conversation in a way to calm your body down from this delirium, you didn't noticed when she got there. You didn't noticed Agatha staring at you from across the room, devouring you without any shame, feeling her mouth full of saliva and desire.

With the pictures of Agatha repeating itself in your mind, your eyes were of no use. All you did was try to listen, and then you felt it. A sweet, not cloying or childish, aroma. You could sense cinnamon, and maybe a scent of apple deep down. It was so alluring.

And still, you only knew it belong to Agatha when you look at who had just sat beside you. Agatha smiled to you, her eyes closing a little bit because of the gesture. "Are you as bored as me?"

That was when shame finally hit you. You felt your throat drying, your heartbeat suddenly so loud in your ears. "We are trying to make this neighborhood better", your words were so empty of meaning. You couldn't think of anything better to say. You felt so dirty.

"We?" Agatha was even prettier up close. Her eyes... they were something. It was like looking at the stars. So alive, so bright, so energetic. "Do you agree that motorcycles should be everyone's priority? That if you don't yell at your neighbor about it the world may end?"

You bit you tongue. "No", you got closer to her, now whispering only for Agatha to hear you. You put your arms on the large table, stretching them. "But I agree that one meeting peer month is way better than a group chat. You should've thank me. I saved you from endless midnight discussions about... well, anything really."

Agatha sat deeper into her chair, her face so close to yours that you could feel her mint breath. Your cheeks prickled. "So you're the neighborhood heroine? That surprises me. You don't look like one."

And for the first time in such a long, long time, you were really interest in something. In someone. "Why?"

"I can see disdain in your eyes."

Oh. Your role was not played as well as you thought. You fixed your posture. Away from her, you crossed your legs and forced a polite smile. "You have a exquisite way to befriend people."

"I wonder what would entertain you", Agatha didn't get her eyes away from you, even if you were no longer facing her. You could feel her gaze. And when you didn't answer her, you felt Agatha's digits on the hem of your dress. "That's the problem, isn't it? You're bored."

"As you said, noise isn't really that big of a problem", you answered her with a dry tone. You could feel your body softening under her touch. You grabbed her hand and tried to take it off your lap, but Agatha just caressed your thigh with her thumb. It was a slow affection, so intimate. "Stop that."

"That's not the first time I see this look in your face", Agatha whispered, somehow her voice got so husky. Her nails scratched your thigh, a movement so slow it almost made you wish she would just rip your skin apart. Any pain would be better than that bitter absence. "Your smile is bright, but no intricate lie ever reached your eyes."

"What are you doing?" Your mouth moved, but no sound came from it. Still, you knew she understood.

Agatha played with a strand of your hair, twirling it around her finger. "Trying to make you open your legs, sweetheart."

You felt your insides squirm. You looked around, your neighbors were still arguing about something that didn't matter. You were in public, close to people who are part of your environment. This is so wrong. But then you stared at the hand on your thigh.

The lilac nails, the delicate fingers, the veins marked in the skin. Her fingers moved with a mixture of affection and teasing, each slightest movement left you wanting more. But what you stared at, what made your eyes return to the immensity of Agatha's, was the golden wedding ring.

And that was what you needed. A sign that Agatha had as much to lose as you.

The first thing that came to your mind when she moved her hand between your thighs wasn't about how wrong it all was, how you had a husband waiting for you at home, how no one there could ever find out what Agatha was doing under the table. When you felt her thumb approach your panties, all you could think about was how Agatha wasn't wearing a bra.

Agatha's fingers rub against the already stiff nerve, her nails sliding over your panties. You moved your hips. You were already so sensitive, and Agatha didn't seem to be in a hurry.

The hand that was playing with a strand of your hair went up to your head, the fingers intertwining with the roots of your hair. She squeezed, clinging to you, and smiled gently. "You will need to be quiet. Can you do that for me?"

You didn't answer her, you just smiled. And your smile was a thousand times more convincing than hers. You took your hands off the table and lowered it to your thigh. Observing the environment, making sure no one was paying attention, you squirmed in the chair to get your panties off. You slid it down your legs, and the fabric fell to the floor. You pulled it with your foot, bringing her closer to you, and picked her up off the ground.

You placed it on Agatha's lap. "Of course I can", you whispered back.

And without hesitation, you placed iy on Agatha's lap

Agatha's fingers were warm. Certain. She explored your lips, goosebumps ran up your spine, played with your pussy. You closed your eyes, the most careless part of you wanting to focus on the pleasure only. When you felt the pressure on your clit, you bit your lips.

You were getting used to the speed, getting used to the delicious pressure between your legs, Agatha simply slid her fingers inside you. Two fingers, without even giving you time to prepare. At a slow, agonizing pace, Agatha opened you up. She curled her fingers, your eyes rolled back, and no matter how much time passes you have no idea how she was able to fuck you so good without anyone noticing.

Agatha is better at it than your imagination convinced you. She's hypnotic. You couldn't think about anything else. All you could do was to make sure your mouth was well shut as Agatha broke into you.

With your mouth locked, eyes open and hands still, no one even imagined that your legs were shaking under the table. Or that when Agatha bent down after dropping her bag it was just an excuse to lick her fingers soaked in your juice.

That night you told your husband that you were going to help your new neighbor with a recipe and then go home. While he slept in the room you shared, Agatha made you hers in the house next door. She ate you, drank you, breathed you.

You both didn't even close the curtain.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Many people when are caught cheating say it only happened once. That it was a mistake. A moment of weakness. Something that had never happened before and would never ever happen again. If at any point these words come out of your mouth, it means you have finally stopped caring about the truth.

The photos Agatha has prove that you are much more than a bad habit.

You wearing that same vintage t-shirt from when you met her and nothing underneath. The still damp bikini staining Agatha's bed. Your mouth drenched with her juice. Your face contorting as Agatha fucks you

With Agatha, even blood tastes sweet. You couldn't lie with her once and then move on with your life. Who, when given the chance to explore the ocean, decides to swim in the shallows? Not you. Not when it comes to her.

It would never be enough. Agatha would never be able to end your hunger. You will always want something more of her. More, and more, and more.

You were barely breathing. Your entire body shook, every cell of your being changed. Agatha seemed able to decode yourbrain using just her tongue. “Ralph will be here soon,” you said. Or whispered. Or muttered. Or screamed. Or he just thought he said it. You had no idea what your body was capable of at that moment

Agatha didn't move away from your wet pussy. "And I couldn't care less." Her fingers penetrated you once more, searching for another orgasm. "Be a good girl and cum for me again."

You were always good. But with Agatha it wasn't an act.

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

[darkacademiaarchivist]

Why does a man seek to destroy the world?

TIME FOR DOING EMBROIDERY AND LOSING MY MIND OVER MAG 160; THE EYE OPENS (oh god oh no oh god)

(i think the first time i was listening to this i was makind dinner and i was just. losing. my. shit. Obviously)

(teasing) Anyways, don’t tell me the phonebox down there doesn’t appeal to your retro aesthetic.

can we talk about how Jon REMEMBERED a small thing Martin said ONCE while he still kinda hated him?

MARTIN: I mean, they’ve finished all the interviews? Apparently they’re calling it a “terror attack.” ARCHIVIST: Doesn’t surprise me. (heh) Appropriate, in a way.

..... (imagine the news tho if it got out that legit paranormal stuff was happening)

ARCHIVIST: Let me know if you see any good cows MARTIN: Obviously I’m going to tell you if I see any good cows.

isnt it funny how nothing after this moment ever happened :'))) (i swear EVERY TIME i see cows i go "omg good cows / is that a tma reference??"

Hello Jon. Apologies for the deception, but I wanted to make sure you started reading, so I thought it best not to announce myself.

NO GOD PLEASE NO

[The Archivist makes a pained couple of sounds out-of-statement-character, as if he’s trying to tear himself away from the statement and physically cannot.] [When he picks the statement back up, the words sound like they’re being torn from his lips.]

CAN WE TALK ABOUT HOW FANTASTIC JONNYS VOICE ACTING IS HERE???? he even sounds like Elias...... help

Why does a man seek to destroy the world?

because you're a stupid bitch man jonah, hope this helps <3

It’s a simple enough answer: for immortality and power. Uninspired, perhaps...

"why is it always immortality, why does no one ever want anything more interesting?" (jonah magnus is a basic bitch)

All this talk about the freedom of being evil and destroying the world... i mean i guess but you could also.... not do this?! have you considered the joy of making the world a tiny bit better. he's a coward.

I am to be a king of a ruined world, and I shall never die.

WAIT HE ACTUALLY SAID THAT?? i thought that was one of that fanon quotes

Jonah / Elias' backstory is so interesting and i wanna punch him i HATE that his plan worked. i'm 100% convinced tho that the web was always pulling some strings, Jonah is giving himself waaaay too much credit

Gertrude would HATE knowing that she contributed to him figuring out his ritual...

How is Martin, by the way? He looks well. You will keep an eye on him when all this is over, won’t you? He’s earned that.

ELIAS I WILL STAB YOU WITH MY NEEDLE!!! (i know we say Elias is gay AND homophobic but he said gay rights here)

i gotta saw the summoning, for lack of a better word, is a absolute BANGER; it's so powerful

I – OPEN – THE DOOR!

CLOSE THE DOOR JONATHAN

MARTIN (frantic) Wake up. Wake up. Wait, John, John, John, WAKE UP! [He slaps the Archivist; the Archivist immediately shudders awake with a disoriented yell.]

😭😭😭

No. No, it’s everywhere. They’re all here now. (voice shaking – but in awe?) I can feel all of it.

wouldn't it be funny tho if the apocalypse was just contained to the UK? if they hadn't left the EU it would be the EU too but the fears respect their decisions.

Look at the sky, Martin. Look at the sky. It’s looking back.

this quote HAUNTS me TO THIS DAY!!!!

@a-mag-a-day

[trashquisitor-shirozora]

I just wanted to say, if you're feeling this apprehensive about mando s3 I think stepping away is definitly the right decision. The stories you've written with s2 as a jumping off point are extremely good! On par with some of the old EU books I've read that also aren't in any way canonical anymore. Their quality makes them stand on their own in the Star Wars sandbox.

(also I'm not like a media analizing person, but I feel like they might be setting Bo-Katan up to sacrifice herself for Din this season ipv as a romantic partner? That's the feeling I get. There might still be some romantic angle to it, but I don't think it'll be as significant as people are despairing about)

Hello there, Anon. I really appreciate messages like yours; it's so kind and gives me reason to commit myself to what I'm writing and drawing for you guys. There's always a part of me that wonders if I'm just being childish throwing temper tantrums because a show I watch isn't going in the direction I want, and I hope that's not how this looks. I just have a very low tolerance for storytelling that wastes what little time I have for my hobbies and interests, and unfortunately this season made a very bad first impression that I don't really see improving anytime soon. I still have hope the ship will right itself and the season will improve, but I will wait and see and dive deep into my own stories.

(While I admire your optimism, I must say that the optics of having Bo-Katan sacrifice herself for Din aren't great. But who tf knows what the fuck Jon Dave Favloni cooked up for this season. However, I would definitely tune in if the season somehow ends with Bo-Katan getting the Darksaber back and Din & Grogu wandering off into the sunset to have more of those adventures Jon says he loves writing about. Are we even still on the Lone Wolf & Cub track with this show? Fuck if I know.)

[shembaba]

Lexember 4

Önishöza, [ø.niˈʃø.za] (n.) | owl

I remember being very pleased when I came up with this word. And I still am. Doesn't it just sound like it should mean owl? The ending -öza shows up for a few other animals as well and comes from an older word *elza meaning head (specifically of an animal) way back when. It later was also used coloquially for humanoids until specifically being used to refer to the back of a head (I guess because they can be more easily confused with animals lol) until it finally landed on meaning 'neck' in modern times - now in the form of öza. Oh, and the first part comes from *elnis (modern önis) meaning 'night'. Because they are animals of the night.

(no need to always be creative with your animals' etymologies, especially when it's one of the first you're creating anyway)

Anyway, if you came to hear me talk about the <ö> of it all: Unlike /y/, /ø/ was a later, less certain decision. See, the way /y/ arose (partially) was through sequences of /iu/. And I got a bunch of /iu/-sequences from vocalising /l/ > /w/ > /u/ when at the end of a syllable. This resulted in a bunch of new vowel clusters with /u/ at the end. Didn't want that. I wanted only a small number of natively Shembaba words to have diphthongs. This was gonna foil my plans. So I had to monothingise a good bit and when I arrived at /eu/ I just couldn't find a good reason why it wouldn't do the same thing as /iu/ - that is settling on front roundedness and becoming /ø/. So I finally said to myself that I'll just have to cliché down by adding a - to me, at least originally - very un-Elvish /ø/. However, at the same time I'm actually out-tolkiening Tolkien by making my Elvish language even more Finnish than his Elvish languages since I basically copied Finnish's vowel phonology by having long and short vowels, including /ø/ and /y/ (as well as geminated consonants).

(On a sidenote, to make my misery even bigger, I realised that David Peterson (sorry I have to mention him again but he's kinda influential, I suppose) did pretty much the same thing when he created Övüsi for Bright. I guess I can still call it a hommage.)

This, finally, brought me to the problem of how to romanise /ø/. The very reason I wanted <y> for /y/ was because <ü> just seemed not special and old enough at our German pen and paper table. Using <ö>, however, seemed inevitable. I didn't want to make Shembaba look more French by making it <eu> (even though diachronically it at least would make some sense) because it would mean that people who know French would try and pronounce the rest French and start nasalising my poor words. Using <œ> seemed like lying, though, because Olden Elvish /oe/ is not a source for modern /ø/. So <ö> it was. But wait - what about long /øː/? I can't possibly macronise ö? ȫ? My IPA keyboard won't even let me do it properly. So I just bit in the sour apple of pragmatism and went with Hungarian's <ő> and I live quite comfortably with it. I just smile, and hope that it gives Shembaba's orthography the je ne sais quoi to someone out there that I once felt when I saw High Valyrian for the first time (see yesterday's post about that).

[snowadelina]

Reflection of Beauty, Chapter 0

If you're reading this post, I guess you're interested in my project… Why not give it a read over there, huh huh huh?

Click Here to Read! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Clique aqui para ler!

Hello everyone, I'm Nia! As mentioned in the last post, today I'll be bringing (or revealing) the prologue, known as my Chapter 0, of Reflection of Beauty.

Guys, I've written and rewritten this story so many times. It's so new yet so labor-intensive, help. However, I'm really happy with the direction it's taking. After all, my ideas wouldn't come randomly without a bit of effort, right?

Let's stop beating around the bush and dive right into what I came to talk about today.

I published the Prologue!

This fresh start means a lot to me because it's the third time I've tried to write Reflection of Beauty. Some time ago, I was trying to delve into my protagonist Snow White's past by writing her prelude book.

I had ups and downs, even creating a list of reasons why I should work on that book when my greatest desire was to work on her adult version. And I had a plausible reason for this decision, but I hit a wall...

And it wasn't just days or weeks, but MONTHS WITHOUT BEING ABLE TO WRITE A SINGLE WORD. Breathe, Nia, breathe...

During that time, I also decided to translate the story, which would help me connect more with it and solidify its details in my mind, but still... I had the ideas in my hands, yet I couldn't explore them.

Luckily, I had the help of my sweet boyfriend who talked with me and comforted me through this situation. I usually throw everything away and start over, and he showed me that working on the ideas that are coming now is part of the process, which means I can develop or delve into what's happening now instead of putting it off for later. Confusing, right? But it makes sense.

What I mean is, let's do what I desire most: work on the adult, or rather, main version of my protagonist!

Anyway, that was more of a vent than a summary of the prologue. But let's agree, it's better to experience it during the reading than for me to come here and spoil everything, right? Look at this girl's clickbait, tsk tsk

I hope you enjoy and have fun reading it. Soon we'll have more chapters full of mystery, drama, romance, horrorrrrrrrrrrr, and everything good in a story!

Counting on your presence in the next post!

With love, Niazinha ♥

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Olá pessoas, eu sou a Nia! Como dito no último post, hoje eu trarei (Ou divulgarei) o prólogo, conhecido como meu capítulo 0, de Reflection of Beauty.

Gente, eu já escrevi e reescrevi essa história tantas vezes. Ela é tão nova, mas tão trabalhosa, socorro. Contudo, estou bem contente com o rumo que está tomando, afinal, minhas ideias não viriam aleatoriamente sem um pingo de esforço, não?

Vamos parar de enrolação e se jogar de uma vez no que vim conversar hoje.

Eu publiquei o Prólogo!

Esse recomeço significa muito para mim, pois é a terceira vez que tento escrever Reflection of Beauty.

Há algum tempo atrás eu estava tentando me guiar pelo passado da minha protagonista, Snow White, escrevendo o livro de seu prelúdio.

Tive altos e baixos, criando até mesmo uma lista do porque que eu tinha que trabalhar naquele livro já que meu maior desejo era trabalhar em sua versão adulta. E eu tinha um motivo plausível para essa decisão, contudo, eu travei…

E não foram dias ou semanas, mas MESES SEM CONSEGUIR ESCREVER UMA PALAVRA SEQUER. Respira Nia, respira….

Durante esse tempo, também decidi traduzir a história, o que me ajudaria a me conectar mais com ela e fixar suas informações em minha cabeça, mas mesmo assim… Eu tinha as ideias na minha mão, contudo, não conseguia explorar.

Para minha sorte, eu tive a ajuda do meu doce namorado que conversou comigo e me confortou perante essa situação. Geralmente eu taco fogo e recomeço, e ele me mostrou que trabalhar nas ideias que estão vindo agora faz parte do processo, o que significa que eu posso desenvolver ou me aprofundar naquilo que está vindo agora ao invés de deixar para depois. (Confuso, não? Mas faz sentido)

O que quero dizer é, bora fazer o que eu mais desejo, trabalhar na versão adulta, ou melhor, principal da minha protagonista!

Enfim, isso foi mais um desabafo do que um resumo do prólogo. Mas vamos combinar né, é melhor a experiência durante a leitura do que eu vindo dar um monte de spoiler, não? olha o clickbait da menina, tsc tsc

Eu espero que vocês gostem e se divirtam durante a leitura. Logo teremos mais capítulos cheios de mistério, treta e discórdia, romance, terrorrrrrrrrrrr, e tudo que há de bom em uma história!

Conto com sua presença no próximo post!

Com amor, Niazinha ♥

[bloodykanary]

I understand wanting to give this explanation, I would love to adhere to that theory and I often rationalize storytelling decisions using everything I can (some of my friends aren’t fans of that, lol) but I just don’t believe it’s true, at this point.

If it is intentional for RP, I also think it’s a bad move, because it’s not happening after acknowledging that she is dangerous to them in any way, which means them diminishing her impact as a consequence/punishment happens without a cause. Bonus point for it being a bad move because she’s one of the TWO female characters on that server, as well. Maybe they should try an other strategy than that, as admins. What follows is more “me using more words to talk about this because I was en route to the the movie theater while writing the original post” than a reply, so, sorry for adding this in your replies. Not so long ago, I was thinking that Baghera should maybe try to be more explicit in her quest for more lore-related interactions, although she has always made herself available to join others’ investigations despite the time (I feel like a lot of people don’t realize that most of the lore-related stuff happens extremely late for EU players, so yes, imo, just saying okay for a lore expedition at 2.30am when you know this is probably going to last an hour or more, that is showing dedication and motivation). Anyway. My sentence got a little out of hand. I was okay with the idea that the admins might need some kind of cue from her to be sure she was ready to handle serious lore stuff. We knew as her viewers, but I understand that might not always be enough. Now... I can see they do fish for that cue with others in a way that we haven’t seen at all with Baghera. And when she does get something, it’s a means to someone else’s end.

Now I also think, and believe the streamers saying the admin team is good in general, and I don’t think it’s an oversight made willingly, but this was already brewing, and them forgetting to include any french clips at Election Dinner... It really gives the impression they’re not paying the same kind of attention to french-speaking streams when they’re not the ones directly setting up an interaction with the Federation or other NPCs. Which is why I am past the loresque convenient explanation or the “hard to guess what every player wants” explanation. It’s not an irreparable mistake, and one mistake doesn’t make the whole thing utter shit, but it’s a mistake, imo, whether it’s a storytelling one or a managing-your-players one. I do believe they can change things around and I really hope that our frustration is understood to be more than childish jealousy or anything like this.

Ok, is there even someone on the qsmp team who watches french-speaking content?

She didn't actually lose her last life because of the cyberbullying, there was a fudging monologue and story reason, but that's apparently not as important when she defies the Federation as when Cellbit defies the Federation, or when Foolish is being Foolish.

[asgardwinter]

oi, meu amor! 🎟 buying a request ticket from you!

inspired by your sweet anon request, i would like to give you a prompt based on jão’s essa eu fiz pro nosso amor

i love the lyric:

Eu já tinha desistido de mim

Minha vida é sempre assim

Eu tenho a minha fama de sofredor

Então não conta pra ninguém

Mas essa eu fiz pro nosso amor

i guess it’s pretty specific, but I will love to read whatever you make up from this! 💞 ily

i'm sorry i took so long my love!! i hope you enjoy it <3

Crumpled Words

summary | Those words were all he had from you, and he’d keep them safe and locked away in the darkness.

pairing | Loki x fem!Reader

warnings | teeny tiny angsty in the beginning but the rest is pure fluff, Loki thinking that he isn’t enough, friends to lovers, mentions of food

word count | 1,6k

author’s note | i decided to put together this lovely request from @beakeoghan and my entry to @pellucid-constellations’ love letter writing challenge and…well, here we are. i hope both of you, Kathie and Bea, and also everyone here enjoy this little thing i wrote <3

prompt: “And I’ve never felt like that before, but something about you makes me want to feel like that.” from the writing challenge’s list + essa eu fiz pro nosso amor by jão

Loki Laufeyson Masterlist | join the taglist! | Main Masterlist

Loki never fell in love. He might’ve had some flings but that was it.

Loki got to a point where he thought love wasn’t really his thing, his area of expertise. Any type of love seemed to be out of his reach, could it be romantic or platonic or familiar, and the moment it got to him, the moment Loki felt loved, it was just for him to feel it slip from his grasp and leave him alone one more time.

Loki didn’t need love. He decided it lots of years before he even came to Earth the first time.

It was a silly emotion, one that made people do dumb things and end up killed and hurt. He didn't want to end up like that so the decision was quite easy.

Loki would never fall in love.

The decision was still a priority for him when he came to Earth for the second time, living in the Avenger’s Compound among midgardians.

Love. Wasn’t. For. Him.

But he didn’t take into account that love didn’t ask for permission, and it caught him off guard.

That’s how he found himself intentionally ignoring the weird warmth inside his chest when you greeted him every morning since the first day he came to live there.

But, because of you, Loki found himself with a pen and some paper. Because of you he wrote what could be considered a love letter.

Well, it wasn’t really a love letter, but more of a little note. Only one or two cheesy sentences.

Loki regreted it intantly. He felt embarrassed by it, so much he threw it under his bed to pretend he never did it. But he couldn’t bring himself to throw it in the garbage.

Loki also couldn’t bring himself to stop writing about you.

…

The amount of paper hidden under Loki’s bed was embarrassing, the situation wasn’t supposed to get this out of control. At first it was a one time thing, just to get everything out of his chest.

And then it was a week later and he sat at the desk in his room again, writing insanely fast without even thinking. All because of that damn slice of pie.

.

You were smiling in the kitchen when he got there, opening a pink fancy box with something that looked like one of those midgardian sweets. But Loki was caught looking at you, in a situation it was very hard for him to pretend he wasn’t looking.

You offered him a slice of what you called a “lemon pie”, the kindest of smiles painting your face.

“Care for a slice?” You said, extending your arms in his direction with a small plate.

He just had to nod and take it, pretending it meant nothing when it truly meant so damn much. Your fingers brushed slightly as he took the plate from your hands and he fought the urge to just disappear into thin air and teleport back to his room.

Loki was a god. There was no way he couldn’t walk calmly to his own room because of a mortal.

.

And there he was, eating in silence in his room, writing every cheesy and cliché word he’d never be able to say out loud. So as soon as the sun went down, he crumpled the scrap of paper and threw it under the bed, just as if he could hide it from daylight and prevent the feeling from growing.

If only love was like a delicate flower, one that could be easily killed.

It was just two days later when you invited him to a bookstore trip, Loki said “No.” straight away, but only just to meet you “occasionally” there a week later and ending up in the best coffee shop in the neighborhood.

Talking to you.

Alone and happy.

And, just like he always feared, in love.

…

As the very smart god he was, Loki ignored the last one. “Love wasn’t for him” and that was something that wouldn’t change after all those centuries.

Your friendship blossomed under his gaze like a pretty flower that rose from the stones and it made absolutely no sense to him. It made even less sense as Loki put it in paper every night of the next two weeks, trying to reason it out, trying to get rid of the bubbling feeling inside him when you turned to him with a smile or as our hands brushed in a walk outside the compound.

But most important, trying to keep it hidden under his bed, the only messy part in his meticulously arranged room, how pathetic that could sound — so he wrote that down too.

…

It all happened because of your clumsiness.

You were going to sit on his bed — a reading session between two friends, as Loki carefully explained to his excited heart — and you missed it and found the floor instead.

Your “Ouch!” was followed by a hard laugh right after and Loki couldn’t do anything but laugh together. Laying fully on the floor you tried to catch your breath to scold back at him.

“I just missed the mattress, okay? Not that big of a deal.”

“In the exact same manner you ‘just missed the stairs’ the other day?” His smirk and raised eyebrows made your eyes instantly roll.

And then Loki started to laugh, so carefree and light. Soon the room was filled with laughter again and you turned to your side to relieve the pleasant ache in your belly.

Your widened eyes were strage to Loki, what could you have…?

Oh, no.

“Why is there so much paper here?” You looked at him, your eyebrow raised this time.

“Discarded material.” Was all he could manage to answer, getting up to help you off the ground and already plotting a plan to make you forget about what you saw.

“You know you can discard it in the trash can, right? So it’s not gathering more dust under your bed.”

“I am trying out one activity I saw on the television these past days.”

“And what was that activity?”

“I believe it is called ‘recycling’.”

The fastest lie he ever came up with, Loki was so sure he got you out of his trail.

“We could try it together!” You suggested, eyes lighten up from the excitement. “Making recycled paper together, I mean. I did it once, it’s a very different experience.”

Recycled paper? What on earth were you talking about?

“Unlikely to be a good idea.”

“Care to explain, Loki?” You crossed your arms in front of you.

“It is a personal matter.”

“About recycling?”

You wandered through the room, getting on the other side of the bed that was closed to the papers you were so curious about. Loki was still fuzilating you with those piercing eyes, as you got down on your knees and extended your hand to get at least one of the crumpled papers.

The way your eyes widened at each of his written words was making his heart jump out of his chest from the anxiety, from the fear of seeing it followed by disgust. But it went the complete opposite way.

Your eyes softened at each line, tears pricking in the brink of your eyes and making your smile even more beautiful with what appeared to be happy tears.

He had no idea about what of the papers you grabbed, about what part of him you were reading. Loki had no idea about how to explain himself to you, to make things right and normal again.

Your eyes met after you got to the end of the paper, missing the paragraphs that were written on the other side.

“Is this true? When you think of me you remember a fresh lemon pie and a soft winter breeze?” You asked in a low voice, appearing to be as afraid from the answer as he was from the whole situation.

“I do.” He took a step to circle the bed, to get to you.

“Do you really think our weekly trips to the bookstore are…”, you stopped to read it, “a tangible piece of happiness?”

Loki nodded slowly, seeing your smile getting bigger and bigger. Every question you had, he answered it with honesty and took a step closer.

And closer.

Until he was close enough to take the paper from your hands and hold them tightly in his.

“I meant every word.”

You couldn’t resist it, connecting your lips to his in a sweet kiss, one that both of you had longed for so much time. And everything fit perfectly.

“I need to say that the whole ‘flower blooming on the stones’ was a bit cliché.” You whispered teasingly against his lips.

“Well, I have about twenty of these under my bed for you to judge, oh great midgardian literature critic.” Loki bragged about it. “How many poems have you written about me? I need to know if I truly am the object of your affection.”

You kissed him again, just to prove the point — and to do it one more time.

“Yeah, you are.” You smiled dreamily, distancing yourself a bit to look better at his gorgeous face.

“Not the most convincing. You’ll have to work on that, my love.”

Laughing at his usual antics, Loki’s smile widened as you placed your hands on each one of his cheeks, caressing them lightly with your thumbs.

“I love you. I don’t have the pretty words to describe it right now, but I’ve loved you for some time.”

Loki gave you a kiss as a response, just to mimic your previous actions — and to do it one more time.

The paper was soon temporarily forgotten on the groud. The last words on the other side, the ones you didn’t read, resonated inside his head.

“And I’ve never felt like that before, but something about you makes me want to feel like that.”

Maybe one day Loki'd tell you about it.

Taglists:

Everything: @writing-for-marvel @levylovegood

Loki Laufeyson: @emi11ie @i-stand-with-loki @darkacademicfrom2021 @ladyofmischief0 @yeaimsimpingfictionalcharacters @alohastyles-x @poser-yelena @lokiprompts

[miscellaneous-obsession]

Story of any kind of Lady Dimitrescu x Reader but have Miranda in it?

Back to our usual schedule of fics, here is one that took a bit to write! I went with full on angst and fluff so you have been warned... and will be again like twice :)

Unending Nightmare

Warnings: Graphic violence, details of injury, blood and gore, general feeling of anxiety, panic, despair, Miranda being horrible as hell and not suitable for minors.

It seemed almost surreal to regain consciousness in the main hall, her body lounging on one of two settees that sat perfectly aligned to the table in between. Alcina's spine cried in anguish with an unnatural contortion, prompting amber eyes to flutter open, blinking comically in rapid succession to disperse the remnants of sleep that clouded her vision. Rising to a sitting position relieved the strain she experienced, with subsequent stretching of limbs resulting in audible pops.

As her gaze panned briefly across the room, everything appeared untouched, even lipstick-stained cups that sat atop of matching saucers, evidence of her impromptu afternoon tea shared with her wife. A smile saw her slackened jaw tighten with the memory, her mind reliving the moment vividly as she gracefully angled her legs as to touch the ground. However, the sole of one heel didn't make it, landing upon the novel still open to the bookmarked page in which it was discarded as she succumbed to sleep.

However, as the matriarch moved to collect the piece of literature, a piercing scream laced with agony carried through the endless corridors, starling Alcina from her reverie. A sound from such a distance shouldn't have been able to travel, nor should the crying wails and sobs that followed. A note of familiarity within the voice struck a chord in the countess as her mind sought an answer. All the while, fear began to steadily crawl along her spine, wrapping tight like a snake, slithering into her heart in an attempt of manifestation. Shakily she brought her hand to her lips, eyes widening as she recognised the perpetual weeping.

The safety the castle once afforded her dematerialised before her very eyes as fragments of reality appeared to settle into place. The pleading whimpers almost quietened into non-existence, much like the fire that began to dim. In what light remained, Alcina took note of the disorganised chaos that made itself known, how furniture had been shoved aside, vases broken in the wake of a predator, even the blood that marred the marble floor.

Instinctively her claws unsheathed, sensing the danger that posed as a threat to her family. However, as the matriarch took a step closer, intent on examining the trail of crimson destruction, she staggered backwards. The scent of iron in the air was unmistakable; a smell she was well acquainted with and often so enticed by became reclusive as it hit her olfactory receptors. Someone dared to touch... harm what was hers, somewhere in the place they called home, her wife lay injured.

Grappling with the panic and horror that strove to run rampant in her mind, Alcina frantically called aloud for her daughters. But even when beckoned, her solitude persisted; never once upon summoning had her girls elected to disobey or ignore. At last, the illusion of elegance and composure shattered, leaving the countess in what she deemed an unsavoury, feral state, desperate to find and protect what she claimed to be her own.

Alcina all but marched to the cellar growing increasingly fretful with every step she took as she was forced to strain her ears to catch sound of the almost silent, pained murmurs. Ignorant of her own wellbeing, she pursued her wife in heels with an unnaturally fast pace across the uneven, damp terrain, paid by a loss of stance on more than one occasion. Upon rounding the corner in what could be deemed a dishevelled appearance, the matriarch's heart stuttered, skipping a beat involuntarily at the lurid sight before her.

Laid on a mortuary table, gasping for breath, was her beloved, blood pooling beneath her quivering frame from a freshly inflicted incision site as her body seemingly rejected what was both forced and foreign. Once vivid blue irises were almost consumed by blacked pupils, a natural response to the accumulation of adrenaline created as unwavering pain gripped her body. Teeth had long pierced both tongue and lips, allowing more blood to bead in droplets to go unused and wasted, following gravity to the drain so conveniently in place on the stainless steel table.

The growl unleashed from Alcina's throat was unrivalled; her desire to cry out extinguished as she pried her gaze upward. Standing mere inches from her wife's side was Miranda, in a laboratory coat almost befitting of her former self. In hand was an empty jar, fluid swishing with the gentle jostles of the deities movements. A worn label, lacking adhesive, clung to the glass, almost faded to the human eye, but two letters confirmed the unthinkable.

"You've arrived in time, my dear; your pet's future is dependent on this very moment."

Unable to refute the truth in Miranda's words nor bring solace to her wife, she attempted the latter as it appeared the more achievable of the two. With claws retracted, unwilling to cause more harm, Alcina cradled her wilting wife's face as delicately she could muster. She blinked several times over the next minute, refusing to let the tears she felt building fall as she honed in on the ever slowing heartbeat. Hushed apologies and whispered declarations of love were shared, albeit one-sided, in some hope that her beloved heard.

Desperate for her wife to avoid an inevitable future as a mindless moroaicǎ, she continued to track her declining health, choosing to strike as the paled woman took her final breath as a human. Before the transformation could ensue, Alcina made the decision to end what would begin within the coming minutes. Her choice is emboldened upon catching Miranda's dismissive and callous opinion, "Another failure, unsurprising."

Just as her claws were sat poised to cut and render the moroaicǎ useless, her body jolted awake, sweat beading along her brow from the horrifyingly realistic dream her mind had conjured. Swiping a hand to remove what clung to her skin, her eyes blindly searched the room devoid of light. A shaky but relieved sigh slipped past her lips as her hand came to land on and subsequently caress the top of her wife's head.

As calming as one's breathing regulations could be, it didn't replace nor best physical contact with the woman she loved. With arms outstretched, she enveloped her wife, drawing her atop her chest, listening and attempting to match the rhythmic beat of her heart. During such extrication from her place under the covers, bleary eyes opened a fraction in confusion, head tilting to mirror jumbled thoughts.

"Alci?"

"Forgive me, dragă mea, go back to sleep."

Feeling the minute shake of a head, the countess peered down, acknowledging the look of concern that replaced serenity. A hand of supple skin rose to gently gloss over her cheeks, gathering what tears had fallen with the pull of gravity.

"What is troubling you so, beloved?"

Unable to recount most of the tale, Alcina spared her wife from gruesome details, summarising the dream to one line, "It appears my mind attempted to convince me I had lost you."

A contemplative hum resonated directly below her ear, the vibration of which tickled the countess' neck as her wife nestled comfortably in her hold. "Nothing in this world could part me from you; I love you too much to bear separation in this lifetime."

"And if we had no other choice?"

A tutting sound emerged in the dark, an almost dismissal of such a notion. "Then I'd have lived a life knowing I had a woman who loved me and three beautiful daughters to succeed me."

"Poetic... only divulging such a divine talent and way with words now. But I fear you forget that you were the one, with an open heart and mind, who reintroduced my capability to love another outside my darling girls, a trait I thought had been long lost to my mutation."

A keening whine of appreciation caught her ears, further emphasised as featherlight kisses were pressed along the expanse of exposed skin, her wife opting to include areas of her jaw within reach.

"It appears we were both lucky with the hand fate dealt us." After a beat of silence, a tired voice reiterated what had been murmured in the last moments before their slumber, "Te iubesc Cina... te iubesc."

Those wise words and impromptu reaffirmation soothed the ache left by the dream, eradicating the pain like a salve. With practised ease, the matriarch responded in kind, "Și eu te iubesc," before succumbing to the sleep her body so desperately craved.

-----------------------------------------

Both were jolted from sleep only hours later when the covers were unceremoniously pulled back and bodies pressed against them in urgency. Muffled giggles and quiet hushes saw eyes open, only to narrow imperceptibly in faux annoyance, prompting sheepish grins to spread across their daughter's lips. Half-hearted glares quickly faltered, softening into smiles, giving all three the go-ahead to bury their chilled frames in between and around the couple.

Following their lead, Bela too extricated her body, albeit with an audible whine, from beneath the covers. Soon the countess grew amused at the trio's antics as they pleaded with an array of tactics for her wife to join them for their morning routine. Reluctantly Alcina released her wife from her grasp, seeing her subsequently tugged out of bed by the girls. The four ran from the room as a game of tag began, allowing the matriarch to muse as she mapped the softened footfalls of her family throughout the wing in which they resided.

Without warning, her peace was disturbed by the shrill ring of the ornate rotary phone that sat in the adjoining room to her chambers. Donning a robe to retain some modicum of decency, Alcina took her place at her vanity, a tremor running through her hand as she picked up the receiver.

"Mother Miranda."

"Ah Alcina dear, I trust you aren't busy."

Before the matriarch had a chance to respond, Miranda continued on a tangent of her own, "Now, I called to discuss business regarding your wife; her repeated test results have revealed something rather... interesting."

From the moment that phrase was uttered with such an insinuating tone, Alcina could no longer focus. The countess' heart dropped and found herself wishing that the echoing laughter of her girls and beloved could remain forever constant in the castle walls.

[oumaheroes]

sorry if this is burning you out on the uk bros but your headcanons of them are so good! since the previous anon ask about wales and England's relationship, do you have any on ireland and england? I'd love to hear your view on their rocky relationship. I hope your doing well!

Other brit bro headcannons can be found here:

The whole gang (Relationships & History)

Scotland (Appearance)

Wales (Relationship)

Ireland (Appearance)

------------

England and Ireland are an interesting pair

Overall, I’d say they’re the least close out of the UK siblings. Their personalities clash but without a redeeming quality that helps them make up for it: England and Scotland both have hot tempers but they cool easily which allows them to move on from things. Wales goes silent and moody but is hard to rile or annoy in the first place and has a lot of patience, so England’s fiery temper doesn’t affect him so much.

Ireland, however, also has a short temper and is quick to change moods. He blows up just as easily as England does but not as explosively, so whereas England will assume something is not a big deal because Ireland hasn’t screamed obscenities at him, actually it is a Very Big Deal indeed. Ireland can go very silky polite when truly angry and England, with his stubborn pride and need to have things over and done with as quickly as possible, will wrongly interpret these behaviours as ‘oh he’s trying to brush it aside, he’s seen my way of things.’ Actually, Ireland is more opposed than ever before and now has given up on whatever it was they were arguing about- he cannot be bothered to try to change England’s mind or resolve things and so he walks away stewing and angry, whereas England walks away calm again but confused.

 England also doesn’t deal with passive aggression well; it’s not how he operates and prefers to be very overt in both his opinions and actions. This blunt force way of handling things is very intense for Ireland, who simmers on his feelings and enjoys a healthy argument where both parties pick fault and go around and around in circles but without intending offense. England, whose main way of communicating disapproval is through arguments, does not gel well with this- he takes Ireland picking fault as a personal attack against him, rather than Ireland just making a point and this then leads to the inevitable real explosion.

 Ireland and Scotland still work despite Scotland’s hot temper because Scotland is a lot more laid back and confident in himself. He doesn’t read into behaviours or words for a sly attack and his pride doesn’t warp his perception of himself. You can criticise Scotland all you want, he’ll either agree that you have a point, or disagree and call you a twat but he doesn’t take it personally. England does and this is why he and Ireland experience the most friction- England can’t let things go and Ireland hides his hurt in silences so they both end up driving each other batty.

 The two are also very different people hobby-wise. On paper they should get along: Ireland loves poetry and debating, as does England, and they’re both very skilled in both. However, their preferred types of each are different and rather than happily discussing the differences, they end up fighting about ‘who is right’ instead.

 I’m not going to go into the history history of England and Ireland and how this shaped their view of each other. As I said in my Wales and England headcanon, I don’t believe nations in Hetalia can influence their government, nor can they control them. They exist as a cultural representative of their people, to guide them, help them, and remember them. England and Ireland had no role in the actions their governments had upon each other, but that doesn’t mean that they weren’t influenced by them and the English in Ireland haven’t been much of a positive influence. English Kings saw Ireland as an opportunity to gain and expand English influence and power so, although England himself didn’t do any of these actions or want them necessarily, he was still caught and tied up in it. Maybe he was shipped across the Irish sea to fight with him men, or maybe he wanted to go to be with them for support. Maybe England didn’t fight his rulers as much as he could have done in the cruel decisions they made, or maybe he let his own pride and need for recognition in Europe to help persuade him that what his leaders were doing was doing was justified.

I don’t feel comfortable digging that intimately into it, but I do believe that England defiantly didn’t do enough to stop what his government was doing and was very weak willed and shitty in how he conducted himself around these points in time. Ireland cannot blame England personally for the things his government did, but he can blame Arthur for how he personally acted, and Arthur did not act well, with his giant ego and need to be right at all times. The lingering bad blood and mistrust is very much deserved and England is aware that he Fucked Up.

For a long time, he didn’t want to accept this. He would blame others, blame Ireland, or try to minimise both how badly he’d behaved and how devastating his government’s actions were (‘he’s just sensitive! Look at the good side of things!’). It took him many, many years to accept his role in things and recognise that they were bad, and then even more years to admit this to Ireland himself. As England grew and matured and suffered his own losses, this understanding increased and eventually he was forced to accept things from Ireland’s side and admit that his actions weren’t the positive picture he liked to paint for himself. This pushed him to try and apologise, something he very rarely does.

These days, the two of them are better with each other. They’re trying, both of them. Sometimes England will say an ill-worded, offhand comment and Ireland will give him the benefit of the doubt and not jump down his throat. Sometimes Ireland will call him out, but England won’t brush the comment aside like he would have done a few decades previously, or instantly go on the defensive. They’re both working on listening and talking more, but things can still get strained at times, such as around easter, around North, around the EU, etc.

---------

Nonny, I’m so sorry for how late this is orz. I hope that you see this, thanks so much for the ask! (These sort sof things never burn me out, don’t you worry about that)

[jadelotusflower]

It’s Cold in that Fridge: The Case of Nakari Kelen

Since The Case of Mara Jade has been doing the rounds again, I’ve finally gone back to this post that has been sitting in my drafts for literally years. So let’s honour this absolute badass who deserved better:

Once upon a time, the Star Wars universe was but six films (and a tv series) in the story of the Skywalker family. But beyond George Lucas’ story was an absolute boatload of books, comics, games, and other materials that made up the Expanded Universe. When Disney purchased Lucasfilm and the rights to the Star Wars saga, everything in this universe was decanonised and deemed “Legends” - some aspects of this universe were retained or re-purposed, others sit in Disney’s figurative vault and will likely never see the light of day (and seeing how the ST turned out, maybe that’s for the best).

But this transition between Legends canon and Disney canon was not so simple, because the nature of publishing meant that there were novels approved during the time of Legends canon that would be released in the time of Disney canon. In particular, there had been the planned trilogy “Empire and Rebellion”, set between A New Hope and The Empire Strikes Back, with each novel from the perspective of one of The Big Three.  

Razor’s Edge (Leia) and Honor Among Thieves (Han) were released prior to the Great Canon Split of 2014.  But while the Luke-centric novel had been planned, it was not due to be released until well after the Split. So Heir to the Jedi (so called as an homage to the Legends progenitor Heir to the Empire) became one of the first books of the Disney canon.

What does this background have to do with Nakari Kelen?  Perhaps nothing, but I do wonder how the writing process was affected by the shift from Legends to Disney - was the novel a relic of the old EU with any reference the LFL storygroup didn’t like excised during editing, or was it a trendsetter for the new EU, a Sign of Things to Come?  

The most salient point being, of course, that Nakari Kelen - like so many love interests before her - was not allowed to go along her merry way at the conclusion of the novel, but was shoved into the fridge.

If there was one constant of the Legends EU, it was that Luke Skywalker’s love interests couldn’t catch a break. Mara Jade naturally lasted the longest relationship-wise, with almost twenty years of marriage to Luke before some bright spark decided she had to go (as per the aforementioned case study). But before Mara there was Jem, Shira Brie, and Gaeriel Captison (who came close to escaping the curse), and in the Legacy of the Force series they brought back sole survivors Akanah and Callista, only to kill them off for good too (and rather brutally, if I may add).

So perhaps when Kevin Hearne began writing HttJ within the confines of the Legends continuity, he was merely sticking to the status quo, or perhaps once subsumed by Disney they needed to make sure Luke's slate was clean (so to speak).  And I can’t put all the blame on Hearne since I don’t know whether it was his idea, or LFL mandated - but regardless it was a poor decision.

The root cause of fridging, imo, is limited imagination.  How best to cause your male protagonist pain if not kill off someone they love, or at least have strong feelings for? The answer is of course, easily. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

The Luke Skywalker of HttJ is fresh from his victory in ANH, a lieutenant in the Rebellion: young, not dumb, and full of...

Nakari Kalen is an absolute Queen a civilian volunteer and crack-shot sniper who loans her ship Desert Jewel to the Alliance. Luke is immediately attracted to her, they bond over a mutual love of fast ships and leaving behind desert home planets, and engage in the inexpert flirting of two nineteen year olds while also risking their lives several times over.

I want to make it clear: I actually really like this book. It's a breezy read, almost serialised as The Early Adventures of Luke Skywalker, and is ofttimes genuinely funny. And credit where it’s due to Hearne, many of of the supporting roles in the novel are female. Other than Nakari, there's Soonta, the Rodian who gives Luke her uncle’s lightsaber, Sakhet the Kupohan spy, and the Givin cryptographer/math genius Drusil Bephorin. In a genre where male characters are often the default for these kind of roles, it was nice to see, but makes the regressive fridging of Nakari even more egregious.

Luke and Nakari make a good team fighting brain-sucking monsters and Imperials, but more importantly they have fun together - she encourages him to work on his Force skills, and he successfully moves objects with his mind for the first time (leading to Nakari adorably dub him "a little noddle scooter"). It's a very sweet, if brief, relationship, and a respite from the danger of the mission. They spend the night together (leaving the reader to decide exactly what happened behind closed doors), and share a kiss before splitting up to try and escape bounty hunters. No prizes for guessing what happens to Nakari immediately after she received the Skywalker Kiss of Death.

I assume there were two motivating factors for why Hearne and/or LFL couldn't let Nakari live:

1. If she survived, fans would wonder why she doesn't appear in ESB/subsequent material.

I recall this bandied about on forums back at the time of the book's release, and to that I say - so what? Fans are always going to wonder, and try to paper over the gaps in canon, to make up their own headcanons to explain any any perceived inconsistencies. It's certainly no reason to kill someone off.

It is in fact possible for two young people to have a romance that just fizzles, or doesn’t work out for whatever reason - it should not require great maneuvering or explanation. If Nakari doesn’t show up in the next book in the timeline, what about it? The reader is smart enough to assume she and Luke broke up, decided to just remain friends, whatever. But it seems that the only way for a female character to exit stage left is for her to die, which is bullshit.

And actually, there's no reason why she couldn't have shown up again. ESB and RoTJ cover a month and a few days, respectively, of Luke's life - just because there was no mention of Nakari doesn't mean she didn't exist at that time, whether or not she and Luke were an item. She could have made an appearance in a subsequent novel, or Rebels, or the comics - she could have become a recurring character, showing up when the Rebellion needed her, or - heaven forbid - even have her own comic/book/show! Her existence in Star Wars canon didn't need to begin and end with Luke Skywalker, merely to service his plotline and backstory and abandoning the richness of her own.

No, the only reason Nakari had to die was to facilitate this:

It was a blow to the gut, realizing what that sudden absence meant. I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, but I had felt Nakari's life snuffed out through the Force, and into that void where she had shone anger rushed in - anger, and a cold sense of raw power and invincibility...I took a step to join in the hunt but stopped, breathing heavily, unaccountably sweating even though I felt so cold inside and the power of the Force roiled within me... I shook with emotion and power, and none of it felt the way the Force had before...I saw what kind of space it was , a black hole that would always be hungry no matter how much I fed it. I might never feel warm again if I didn't get myself under control.

Luke feels the dark side and is tempted by the boost of power it offers him, but immediately identifies it as dangerous and unnatural. I can understand why Hearne wanted to include this - it is a book of firsts after all: Luke's first solo mission, his first time using telekenisis, and ending with story with his first experience of the dark side makes sense. But it wasn't necessary, which leads to:

2. How to push Luke to touch the dark side without killing someone he has romantic feelings for?

Also, obviously, shite of the bull (or nerf, if you prefer). Even if this brush with the dark side was absolutely necessary for the novel's climax, there's any number of ways it could be achieved. At this point, Luke is fresh from losing important people in his life - Owen and Beru, Ben, and Biggs - lumping another death on top of that a narrative trick for Luke to react not only to losing Nakari, but the others as well. But it's cheap, the first card in the deck, and why not show a bit of imagination? Luke is young and inexperienced enough at this point that any number of things could be the catalyst - the whole book he's struggling with his growing powers, why not try and reach too far in the firefight with the bounty hunters, his anger and frustration with himself in not doing enough trigger the dark side temptation? It would work thematically and doesn't involve a fridging that ultimately has very little payoff.

Because Nakari is killed less than ten pages from the end of the book - afterwards Luke grieves, but ultimately chooses to honour her memory and be grateful for what he learned with her, recommitting to becoming a Jedi. It's all very surface level, and once again a female character's death facilitates a male character's development. Was it so imperative that Luke lost someone he cared about as part of this story? Sure, this was a time of galactic civil war, and it's far from unrealistic that these stories have a high body count, but who to make collateral damage remains an authorial choice, and in this case Nakari Kelen was (a) a female character of color, (b) a love interest of the protagonist - not just of this book, but the entire Original Trilogy.

I don't know to what extent (if any) race had to play in the decision. I'm sure there was a segment of the fandom absolutely livid that Luke Skywalker kissed (and maybe had sex with) a black woman. Was her death LFL hedging its bets, or demonstrative of the general lack of attention/respect they show their characters of colour?

In any case this was a chance to stand out from the old EU and it's fridge full of Luke's dead girlfriends, but instead they chose to introduce and kill off Nakari for the sole purpose of Luke's manpain and character development, and that's gross.

And then there's this:

A grisly yet reliable fact about custom bounty hunter ships is that you can always count on them to have body bags stashed somewhere for the easy transport of their kills. They often have built-in refrigerated storage, too.

NAKARI IS KILLED AND LITERALLY STORED IN THE FUCKING FRIDGE I COULDN'T BELIEVE WHAT I WAS READING.

I really hope this was unintentional on Hearne's part, because yikes. He was halfway there, this book was full of interesting female characters who had agency - Drusil in particular was a delight with her super math and inability to understand human interaction. Nakari was full of life and fun - capable but relatable, showing a different side of the Rebellion and those that suffered under the Empire's rule. Fridging her in her first appearance is considerably more vile, because it reduces her to a footnote of Luke's story, a plot device to Help Him Grow, rather than a springboard to tell more of her own story.

Because Nakari was a compelling character ripe for spinoff potential. I would absolutely have read or watched her continued adventures, juggling missions for her father's Biolabs company and trying to aid the Rebellion, shooting her slug rifle and cracking wise, maybe even finding a way to amplify her mother's song Vader's Many Prosthetic Parts to really stick it to the Empire, or try and free the political prisoners on Kessel.

The old EU was made great by allies and enemies of Our Heroes showing up again to help or hinder them, and/or branching out into their own material. We fell in love with them, and followed their stories even as they diverged from the main saga, eager to read more about their lives.

Nakari Kelen never got that chance. In many ways, she exemplified what Disney Star Wars was to become: an exercise in wasted potential.

[nari-nim]

I love you, idiot

“can i request prompts #1 + #8+ #14 with junkyu aaaaaa”

#1 “What did you just say?” “Nothing. Forget it.” “You said that you loved me. I’m not going to just forget that.” + #8 “Are you jealous? That’s cute.” + #14 “I know you don’t see how terrible he is, because you have the most stupid crush on him, but-” “I don’t like him, you jerk. I like you.”

author’s note: sorry I get so sad from seeing ygtb content but this is his exact reaction to hearing your confession. I hope you enjoy anonie! I skipped a few requests to write this because I just love the way your mind works...this was so fun! gif creds go to @ponyoscenarios​

6:35pm

“Look, all I am saying is that you have a tough choice,” Junkyu said seriously. You nodded, brows furrowed at the tough decision presented in front of you.

“Melona,” Junkyu said, raising the ice cream bars, “or Choco Cone.”

You pursed your lips. Both sound deliciously good, and the adorable faces Junkyu was making at you wasn’t making the decision any easier. “I’ll buy both. I’ll give my intern friend I told you about the one I don’t eat on the way back.”

Junkyu scrunched up his nose. “Chan? Why? You never bought me ice cream during our, what, four...no, four and a half years of friendship!!!”

“Aw,” you cooed sarcastically, grabbing both ice cream bars out of his hands. “Are you jealous? That’s cute.”

You headed towards the register, hoping he didn’t catch the slight blush on your cheeks. You heard Junkyu softly huff behind you, but chose to avoid eye contact with him until you both finished paying.

The two of you started to slowly walk back to the YG building, savoring the first bites of the sweet treat in silence.

“He doesn’t even pay attention to you properly.” Junkyu broke the silence with a pout.

You glanced at him. “How would you know?”

“I-I just do!“ Junkyu swallowed nervously. “And I know you don’t see how terrible he is, because you have the most stupid crush on him, but-”

“What?! I don’t have a crush—“ You gasped, beyond shocked by his assumption. Sure, you and Chan are close and work late nights together but that’s because of the immense workload that comes with being an intern for YG. “Is this over an ice cream bar? I’ll buy you one tomorrow.”

“Eungh, y/n, it’s not that!”

“Then what?”

“I just care about the people I’m in love with, ok?” Junkyu blurted out, suddenly turning to a stop in front of you.

Your eyes both widened at the realization of his words.

“What did you just say?”

“Nothing. Forget it.” Junkyu whipped back around, letting his long legs pick up a brisk pace.

You ran after him to catch up. You grabbed his sleeve to force him to show down, and tugged it until he faced you. Junkyu’s broad frame towered over you, but he shyly averted his eyes.

“You said that you loved me. I’m not going to just forget that.”

“Just forget it, y/n. Please.” Junkyu moved to tug his arm away.

“Junkyu, no I-“

“Y/n!” Junkyu whined, his face completely red now. He tugged harder to escape your grasp, the momentum causing the ice cream in your hand to land on the ground in a splat.

You gasped, and glared at Junkyu.

“I don’t like him, you jerk. I like you.”

Junkyu stared at you in disbelief. “Euing? You- you do?”

“Yes, I really do, Kyu. Ever since our first convenience store run. And I’ve definitely fallen for you since.”

Junkyu’s surprise melted into confusion, and then settled into a joyous grin. He gently reached for your now empty hand.

“I’m sorry I made you drop your ice cream. If I buy you a new one and another one after that and so many more in the future, will you be my girlfriend?”

“Yes, I love you, idiot, with or without ice cream.”

[itubainaretro]

Like the rivers feed the sea know that you, are all that I will need

In a parallel universe coronavirus was still a thing but Robbe and Sander stayed together during lockdown.

OR

Little snippets of Robbe and Sander's life during lockdown.

read it on AO3 or under the cut (5.8k)

When news broke that the cases of coronavirus were spreading faster by the day and that Belgium was headed towards a lockdown because they’ve been hit hard by the pandemic Sander and Robbe didn’t know how they would go on about the situation - they didn’t know if they would spend the lockdown together or apart, each one with their own families. They only knew that they had to make a decision and stick to it, cause they shouldn’t be roaming around the streets of Antwerp after a certain date.

They talked about it with their moms, both of them telling them they were free to choose for themselves and if they wanted to spend it together they were welcome whichever home they decided was best for them.

Robbe told Sander he wanted them to be wherever they felt most comfortable being. He knew how important it was for Sander to be in the familiarity of his own home and room, and he also knew they were about to face something bigger than them and totally unpredictable, so he didn’t want to add to that the anxiety that being out of your comfort zone could bring.

And ok, they had spent the night at each other’s places before, but they could always come and go whenever they pleased, so having to decide where they needed to stay for good for almost a month - at least - seemed like something big and even though Sander agreed that maybe it was better to stay at his own house, he didn’t want to make Robbe choose between him and his own mother. Robbe didn’t have to say anything for him to know that he didn’t want to leave his mama alone in times like these, so they decided to stay at Robbe’s house.

Sander didn’t worry too much about his mama, since she would still have his father and little sister, Cara, to keep her company, so he packed a bag with all the essential things he would need for the foreseeable future - clothes (not too many of those, since Robbe cleared out one of his drawers to give it to him recently and he had plenty of stuff at his place already), toiletries (he needed to change the toothbrush he left at Robbe’s anyway), books, his pencils and charcoal, his sketchbook, his school stuff, his notebook and camera -  and went.

-

In the beginning, it felt like they were still in school and that everything was as it always has been (minus the not going out part) with all the school work both of them got from their professors, so they focused on that first, but as the days went by they had less and less work to do and almost too much time on their hands so it almost started feeling like they were on vacation.

-

At first, it felt great, having that much time to do anything they wanted to, just them, so they started by binge watching Netflix because Elite’s latest season had just come out and Robbe insisted that Sander watched it with him. Sander rolled his eyes at him when he suggested it, but later on, admitted he saw the first and second seasons and kinda loved it. 

They watched the whole season in one day.

-

After catching up with all the series they were behind, they moved on to movies that had made their way into their To Watch list throughout the time they’ve been together. There were quite a few, from different genres, going from Lady and the Tramp because, “how on earth have you never watched it, Sander? you have a little sister and you were a kid once in your life too, you know? Besides, it’s a classic”, to Ferris Bueller’s Day Off because, “this movie shaped me as a rebel, Robbe”, ‘what are we gonna do?’ ‘the question isn’t what are we going to do, the question is: what aren’t we going to do?’, Sander quoted to prove his point and finished saying, “this is a classic, love”.

Their favorite one was a brazilian movie, called Hoje Eu Quero Voltar Sozinho, that Robbe had already seen once and mentioned it to Sander in one of their various conversations about movies, a long time ago. 

They were enjoying the song playing while the credits rolled when Sander asked softly why Robbe chose that particular movie.

“The first time I watched it was when I was starting to wonder about my sexual orientation and thinking that maybe I was not as straight as I thought I was”, Robbe started with a hushed voice. “It was a very difficult time for me, as you know it, and things at home weren’t that great either.... and this movie was the only spark of love and hope that I saw in the middle of all that chaos and self-hatred that I felt inside - it was the only thing telling me that maybe things would be okay, and I wanted to share the feeling with you”, he finished, bashfully. 

Sander’s eyes were filled with tears when he pulled Robbe closer to tell him how much he loved him and how proud he was of the person he became. He kissed every part of Robbe’s face he could reach: his eyes, his cheeks, his nose, his chin, and finally his lips.

After some time, Sander grabbed his phone and typed something and the same song from the ending scene and credits started playing and Sander pulled Robbe up from the bed. 

“Come on, we’re going to dance.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

And who was Robbe to say no to Sander when there was indeed too much love to go around these days?

-

They read some books too, each boy with their own, at first.

As the days went by, though, they grew tired of being in silence together, so after finishing their respective books they agreed on one they would read together, aloud.

As per Sander’s request, Robbe was the one to read it.

“Please? Your voice is soothing”, Sander smiled at Robbe, “I like listening to it, it’s like music to my ears.”

“Shut up”, Robbe rolled his eyes fondly and shook his head, smiling.

“It’s true, though. You do have a nice voice”, Sander reaffirmed, a smile never leaving his lips.

So he read from the book they chose, one hand holding the book, the other playing with Sander’s hair from where his head was resting on his lap.

“Good morning, he said.

Be at home in your head.

Make sure joy is well fed.

Don’t let dread hog the bed.

Good night now, and rest.

Today was a test.

You passed it, you’re past it.

Now breathe till unstressed.

Good morning, stunner.

You’re just getting started.

Your age doesn’t matter.

The sun is up, the day is new.

You’re just getting started.

Good night, stunner.

You’re just getting started.

Your age doesn’t matter.

The stars are out, the night is warm.

You’re just getting started.

Good morning.

Good gracious.

Your smile is

contagious.

Good night then.

Good gracious.

You’re one

for the ages….”

When Robbe finished reading the poem and closed the book, Sander was already looking at him when he looked down.

They met halfway in a soft kiss.

You are loved and we like having you around.

-

As the days went by, things started shifting. 

The days seemed longer and duller, there seemed to be a cloud of uncertainty hovering over their heads, the amount of information they were always receiving on the news seemed like too much. They missed the feeling of fresh air on their faces, they missed going to the skate park or seeing street art around Antwerp.

Everything felt like too much and not nearly enough at the same time. Too much information, too much bad news. Not enough space to roam around, not enough fresh air, not enough freedom. And Robbe’s mama was the first one to notice.

Robbe and Sander seemed quieter than usual, no music, no fits of laughter - usually heard from the kitchen three rooms away from Robbe’s room - were coming from there.

She went to check on them and upon seeing their frowny and preoccupied faces, took the matter into her own hands and decided to ask them for their help to prepare dinner.

They usually helped with setting up the table and cleaning after they ate, but she wanted them to keep their minds off of everything for as long as they could, so purposefully choosing something that would take them hours to get made, she decided their dinner would be pasta. Made from scratch.

They spent the entire afternoon preparing everything and didn’t even notice how time flew by while they were cooking, talking, and keeping busy enough to not have to deal with the outside world.

After cleaning up the kitchen they headed to their respective rooms and fell asleep quite instantly from how exhausted they were.

It was a good day, after all.

-

Some days later Sander’s mum called, claiming Cara, Sander’s four-year-old sister, missed her big brother too much and wouldn’t stop complaining about it.

Robbe and Sander spent almost the entire day facetiming her.

They talked about everything, engaged on her games the best way they could while being separated by a screen, watched Moana at the same time so they could talk about it with her, and finished their day by reading her a bedtime story, with Sander and Robbe making the funniest voices possible for each character to make her go to sleep with a smile on her face.

-

Later that week, Sander first noticed something was wrong when he turned around and saw Robbe - always the first one of them to wake up early in the morning - still in bed, cocooned by all their blankets, even though it was past 10 am. 

Noticing how the pattern of his breathing didn’t seem as even as it would be if he was asleep, Sander realized Robbe has probably been awake for quite some time already. 

“Good morning”, Sander said after dropping a soft kiss on Robbe’s shoulder. 

Robbe hummed and after what felt like a million years muttered a quiet, “Morning”.

“Did you sleep well, love?”

Robbe only nodded and that was enough for Sander to understand Robbe probably didn't feel like talking - they’ve known each for long enough to notice the little things and knew better than to push. 

After some time Robbe turned around until he was face to face with Sander and pulled the other boy closer, hiding his face on Sander’s neck and soon enough Sander felt tears leave his boyfriend’s eyes, leaving a wet trail on his neck and t-shirt. 

“Hey, it’s okay, I’m here. We’ll be alright”, Sander tried calming Robbe down, rubbing soothing circles on his back with the tips of his fingers, “It’s going to be alright”.

Robbe’s voice was hoarse when he said a few minutes later, “Logically, I know that. It’s just I’m-”, Sander felt Robbe’s voice breaking before he even heard him, “I’m worried. I’m always so worried. About my mama, about you. I don’t want to lose either of you, but this fucking virus… it’s messing with my head”.

“Robbe, baby, we’re safe here. We’re all safe. Your mama and I aren’t going anywhere, okay, love? We’re right here. With you”, Sander tried reasoning with the gentlest voice he could muster. Robbe nodded but Sander could still feel his tears falling down his eyes freely, so he tried a new approach.

“What if you and I play a game?” Sander asked. “I believe you already know the rules and I’m almost certain you were the one who taught me how to play it. It’s called Sander and Robbe, minute by minute”, he said gently, smiling when Robbe looked at him, eyes still gleaming with tears. 

After Robbe nodded, Sander continued, “In the next minute we’re just going to lie here and breathe together, is that okay?”

When Robbe nodded again, Sander took his hand and placed it on his chest so they could match their breathing. Robbe grabbed Sander’s hand and put it over his own heart and there they stayed for the next minute.

When their breathing was even Robbe asked quietly, “In the next minute, can I kiss you?”

Sander didn’t even bother answering, grabbing hold of Robbe’s jaw and pressing their lips softly together instead.

In the next minute, Robbe seemed much more settled and calm, so they just stayed there, lying together in bed, Robbe’s head tucked on Sander’s neck, Sander’s hand playing with his hair.

Neither of them noticed they had fallen asleep again, so Robbe was surprised to wake up to an empty bed next to him hours later.

Only it wasn’t that empty when he looked closer and found a card placed on Sander’s pillow, with Sander’s careful handwriting on both sides.

I know it’s not much, but I want you to know that we’ll get through this together, baby. It’s you and me against the world, forever, in all universes. 

We’ll be fine.

I love you.

PS: I’m waiting for you in the tv room with your chamomile tea 

And that was just how Robbe found Sander later, in the tv room, like he promised, with his chamomile tea, watching a movie with Robbe’s mama.

Sander made space for Robbe to plaster himself against him on the couch and passed him his tea once Robbe was settled. At Robbe’s surprised face at the tea still being warm Sander explained, “You always go to the bathroom to wash your hands and face after you wake up, no matter what, so I put the kettle on when I heard you”.

God, Robbe loved him so much. 

He smiled.

They would be alright.

-

It wasn’t the easiest thing in the world to keep that mindset, but they tried, and even though the days seemed to be getting impossibly bluer as the news didn’t get any better and there was no indication of when everything would go back to normal, there were some good things that happened that helped them keep their hopes up. 

Like when they found a family of four kittens near their garage one Thursday morning.

Eileen was making coffee and Sander and Robbe were setting up the table for breakfast, talking about the last movie they’ve seen, when Robbe heard a sound coming from outside their home.

He looked up at her and said, “Mama, did you hear this noise?”

“What noise, dear?”, Eileen asked, turning around. “I heard something coming from outside, I think there’s something in the garage.” “What are you talking about, Robbe?”, Eileen was still confused. “I heard it too, actually”, Sander chimed in.

Robbe scrunched up his eyebrows when he heard another sound and both Sander and Eileen looked at the door. 

They went outside and started looking for the source of the noise. 

Near their garage there was a small spot in the wall reserved for pots of plants, where Eileen usually left a nice vase with colorful flowers to brighten up the place. That spot was now empty. Well, not exactly empty, but lacking flowers, more like.

Instead of the usual flowers occupying said place, there now stood three little kittens, while one was trying to climb up the wall, trying to get closer to their family. That explained the noise they heard, as the vase that once stood there was now shattered on the floor. 

They tried gently approaching the kittens, Sander and Eileen being the only ones to succeed, and when the kittens finally trusted them enough to let themselves be taken by the pair, the three of them walked back inside, hands full of cute kittens.

Eileen took care and examined each one of them, paying close attention to see if any of them had any injury or needed medical care, but they were all fine and healthy, so they fed them and played with them, forgetting about breakfast.

Almost an hour later, when Robbe’s stomach grumbled and the kittens were half asleep on their laps they got up and went to the kitchen to finally have breakfast, leaving the kittens sleeping on a makeshift bed Eileen had put up with some old cushions and sheets she had laying around somewhere around the house.

“They need names”, Robbe said as soon as he sat on the table and poured himself a cup of coffee.

They had discussed the possibility of keeping the kittens earlier, when they were still playing with them, and for the time being, Eileen agreed to it, asking the boys for help to take care of them.

“They do”, Eileen agreed. “Any suggestions?”, she looked at Robbe and Sander.

“Freddie, Roger, Brian and John”, Sander said easily, a smile plastered on his face.

Robbe raised his left eyebrow. “Really?”

Sander nodded.

“I’m surprised you didn’t suggest Bowie 1, Bowie 2, Bowie 3, and Ziggy Stardust”, Robbe teased.

Sander stuck his tongue out at Robbe and both Robbe and his mama laughed.

“I like it, Sander”, Eileen smiled at him. “Thank you.”

Sander stuck his tongue out at Robbe again.

“Shut up”, Robbe rolled his eyes at him but couldn’t help smiling.

They listened to Queen the whole afternoon.

-

Robbe wished all days could be as easy as the day the kittens were found and the days that followed them, when each day one of them learned how to do a new thing and everyone was endeared by them and the days passed by in the blink of an eye, filled with laughter, warmth, and happiness, but unfortunately, it wasn’t the case.

A week and a half later Robbe noticed how everything was starting to catch up with his mama and things became kind of too much for her as well. 

He noticed it during breakfast, when all of them were gathered around the table, still half asleep, eating croques made by Sander and drinking coffee. She looked like she was in another world completely, her eyes missing that natural glint that always assured Robbe that things would be fine. He worried for her and because of her, but he also knew that there was not much he could do. 

He just wished things could be easier for her.

-

A couple of days went by and Robbe’s mama still didn’t feel that well, spending most of the time in her room, only leaving to make them food or occasionally go to the bathroom.

Sander saw how worried Robbe was so he asked him if there was anything they could do to help her, or if there was anything she liked to do when she felt down, like he liked to immerse himself into his art when he was having bad days, Eileen probably had something that took her mind off of things when she felt down as well. So Robbe wrecked his brain trying to think of something until he remembered.

“She likes gardening”, Robbe smiled, thinking about all the times he found his mama caring for the flowers of their garden when he was a little kid. It has probably been ages since Robbe last helped her and just the thought of it made something break inside Robbe’s chest.

“I have no idea how to do any of this, but maybe we can try? For her?”, Sander was already rummaging through his clothes to find something comfortable to wear.

God, Robbe really loved him. He nodded and after changing into some old clothes that were bound to get dirty he dragged Sander to the garden, looking for where they kept the gardening things they would need. 

After some hours, a lot of dirt staining their clothes and a garden that looked half arranged, they heard some noises coming from the inside of the house and some minutes later Eileen opened the door to the garden and made a surprised noise. As she got closer to them, Freddie, Roger, Brian, and John, or Queen, as the four of them were often called now, following close behind, Robbe noticed she had a smile on her face and looked a bit more rested.

“We know it’s not much and that we’re probably not doing it the right way, but we tried”, Robbe broke the silence, shrugging his shoulders.

“And if you want to help us finish it, you’re more than welcome, Eileen”, Sander added. “And if you also want to show us a better, more efficient, and less messy way to do it we would love to learn”, he finished smiling, pointing to their dirty clothes as a way to emphasize what he was saying.

Eileen smiled at them both and after giving each boy a hug she pulled her sleeves up and got to work, showing them how to care for the plants and the flowers and how to turn the slight mess they made into a beautiful garden.

They spent the rest of the day gardening and when they were finished with it, Sander got his camera and they had a little photoshoot in the freshly revived garden, all of them still dirty, with the kittens running around causing mayhem.

Eileen loved them more than she could put into words.

-

The days seemed to be more hopeful after that.

There were still bad days in the middle of the good ones, but they helped each other get through it and they knew they would make it.

-

Before they knew it, it was Sander’s birthday and Robbe had a day filled with surprises planned for him.

It started with Robbe and his mama getting up earlier than they usually did to bake Sander a birthday cake. They decided on the chocolate cake because Robbe knew it was Sander’s favorite and he still remembered that one time he called Sander basic for liking chocolate cake and earned himself a full lecture on why the chocolate cake was anything but. 

After they put the cake in the oven Robbe prepared a tray of food to take to their room so Sander could eat breakfast in bed. All of Sander’s favorites were there: croques, pancakes, orange juice, berries, and black coffee. After managing to securely hold everything into the tray he made his way to his mama’s garden and plucked one of the beautiful flowers that had blossomed in the past week, with her permission of course, and decorated the tray and made his way to his (and now Sander’s) bedroom.

As setting everything up took longer than he originally thought it would when Robbe came to their room Sander was already awake, still laying in bed, lazily scrolling through his phone, probably answering people’s birthday wishes, and when he saw Robbe he smiled.

“Good morning, angel.”

Robbe smiled back at him, completely enamored with Sander’s freshly woken up face.  “Good morning, birthday boy”, he came closer to the bed and gave Sander a soft kiss before placing the tray in front of him.

“And what’s this?”, Sander asked, a smile never leaving his face.

“Breakfast in bed for you”, Robbe smiled again.

“It looks delicious, baby”, Sander said, “thank you.” He grabbed Robbe’s neck and pulled him closer to kiss him, getting lost in it. He broke the kiss a few moments later. 

“Is there something burning?”

“Only my desire for you”, Robbe jokingly teased.

“No, Robbe”, Sander said, sniffing the air. “There’s something really burning.” 

“FUCK”, Robbe exclaimed, getting out of bed in a hurry. “Your cake.” He ran to the kitchen to take the burnt cake out of the oven before the kitchen caught on fire and heard Sander laughing, slowly getting out of bed and following him.

Sander got into the kitchen in time to see Robbe with a frown on his face setting the cake pan into the sink, mumbling about how there was no way to salvage the cake anymore.

“I can survive a year without a birthday cake, you know”, Sander tried to soothe Robbe, coming closer to him and setting his hands on his waist. “It’s okay, baby.”

“There’s no way you're not getting a birthday cake today, Sander”, Robbe protested. “You’re already stuck at home, I didn’t even get the chance to get you a nice birthday gift… the least I can do is bake a fucking cake”, he sounded frustrated. “I’m going to ask mama where the recipe and the ingredients are.”

“Hey, relax”, Sander looked into Robbe’s eyes, “it’s alright.” He lowered his voice and whispered into Robbe’s ear, teasingly, “if the cake thing doesn’t happen I’ll still have buns right here”, and gave Robbe’s ass a squeeze, just to make him laugh. 

Robbe didn’t even have time to react before Eileen cleared her throat from where she was standing by the door, holding Freddie in her arms. 

Robbe detangled himself from Sander and tried not to think about his burning cheeks and the clear blush that he was sure was adorning his face. “I burned the cake”, he said quickly.

Eileen laughed. “Yeah, I smelt it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, dear, these things happen”, she moved her hand in a nonchalant way, “especially if you’re distracted”, she teased.

Sander barked out a laugh and Robbe glared at him.

“Is it okay if I try to make another one?”

“Of course”, Eileen nodded. “Here’s the recipe.”

“Thank you, mama.”

“Do you need any help?”

Robbe shook his head, “No, thank you. I’ll pay more attention this time”, he promised.

“I’ll help him if he needs anything, Eileen”, Sander reassured.

“Okay, I trust you two”, Eileen smiled at them. “The ingredients are in the cupboard on top of the stove and oh, dear, happy birthday”, she gave Sander a hug before leaving the kitchen.

As soon as his mama was out of earshot Robbe glared at Sander and gave him a punch in the arm. “You’ll still have buns right here? Are you fucking serious?”

Sander tried to stifle his laugh. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think she would hear… or see that for the matter”, he ended up laughing anyway.

“Sander, I live with my mama, what did you expect?” Robbe tried not to laugh.

“I don’t know, she could be in the bathroom, or taking care of Queen, who knows?”

“Clearly not you, you idiot”, Robbe laughed. “You’re the worst”, he shook his head.

“But you love me.”

Robbe sighed. “Unfortunately.”

“Heeeeey”, Sander whined.

“Okay, fortunately”, Robbe relented.

“That’s better”, Sander smiled, already invading Robbe’s personal space once again to give him a kiss.

“Happy birthday, baby”, Robbe wished once again before kissing Sander.

-

There were no more incidents in the kitchen and the chocolate cake Robbe and Sander made turned out to taste delicious, Eileen telling them so after they each ate a piece of it after lunch.

Sander spent the entire day talking to his friends and family, everyone that wanted to wish him a happy birthday, making sure to make an extra call to talk only to Cara because she missed him too much.

Sometime during the afternoon Robbe called for Sander from their bedroom and when Sander got there he was surprised to see all of Robbe’s friends on the screen of his computer shouting surprise when they saw him. The Broerrrs, the girls, and even Milan and Senne were on a Zoom meeting to wish him happy birthday. They all had funny backgrounds and fake balloons to pretend it was a birthday party and Sander couldn’t have been happier about it, thanking all of them after they sang happy birthday and saying it was the best birthday ever.

At night, Robbe cooked dinner and made Sander’s favorite food for them to eat together. 

When everyone was at the table making a plate for themselves Robbe’s mama got up after helping herself.

“Mama? What are you doing?”, Robbe asked, lifting an eyebrow after seeing her grabbing her plate, utensils, and glass of water.

“I’m going to my room so you boys can enjoy the night”, she said matter of factly. 

“Mama.”

“Eileen.” Both boys said together.

“You know you don’t have to do this, Eileen”, Sander shook his head.

“I know, darling, but I want to”, she smiled at them. “You two deserve tonight”, she winked at them.

“Mama….”

“Robbe, dear, it’s alright. It’s one night”, Eileen insisted. “Besides, I won’t be alone, Queen will be there with me and I’ll be listening to music on those nice headphones you so gently lent me”, she turned around, leaving. 

Robbe made a confused face, “I didn’t lend her anything”, he whispered to Sander.

Sander shrugged.

“So enjoy the night”, Eileen yelled from the corridor. “..... and use protection”, she added as an afterthought.

Sander burst out laughing.

“MAMA”, Robbe yelled back, embarrassed.

They enjoyed the night to themselves anyway.

-

Robbe wished that day would never come because seeing Sander sad made him sad, but it did, as it did for his mama and himself during the time they were on lockdown and it was bound to happen to Sander too and it did a few days after his birthday. 

They woke up like they always did at around 8 am and went to the kitchen to have breakfast with Robbe’s mama. They ate together in a comfortable silence and after cleaning their plates Sander told them he was going back to bed because he wasn’t feeling that well and he wanted to sleep it off. Robbe knew better than to push or ask too many questions, so he kissed him on the forehead and sent him off to their room, saying that if he needed anything he would be in the tv room with his mama and Queen.

Robbe spent the entire day with his mama on the couch, working on his school projects and watching some movies when he was done with everything. Occasionally he heard Sander going to the bathroom and then going back to their room, where he stayed the whole day.

Some hours later, when it was already early evening, Robbe got an idea and asked his mama for help and after an hour or so he had everything set up.

Sander woke up and came to the kitchen half an hour later.

“Sorry if we woke you up”, Robbe said, opening his arms to welcome Sander.

“No, you didn’t”, Sander shook his head, nestling himself in Robbe’s embrace. “I was already awake, but I decided to come here when I smelt the popcorn”, he smiled.

Eileen smiled at them. “Well, I think everything is set”, she said while turning off the stove. “You boys enjoy the night and get some rest, okay? I’m going to bed.” She gave each of them a kiss before making her way to her bedroom.

Robbe dismissed Sander’s confused face and asked him how he was feeling.

Sander sighed. “I don’t know. Weird? Today was weird”, he looked at Robbe with downcast eyes. “Everything feels weird, actually.” Ever since that day Robbe found Sander in the Academy all those months ago they promised each other to always tell the truth about how they were feeling, even if they couldn’t exactly explain it themselves or if it didn’t make much sense, and Sander remembered that.

Robbe nodded. “Everything is weird at the moment”, he agreed. “But it’ll pass”, he kissed Sander’s forehead. “And we’ll be okay, okay?”

Sander nodded. 

Robbe gave him another tight hug and after dropping another kiss to his head, whispered in his ear, “Come”.

Robbe took Sander’s hand and led him to the tv room and before getting there he turned around and said, “I have a surprise for you, so close your eyes.” And after he was certain he did, he went behind him and covered his eyes with his own hands because he knew Sander and he knew he would try to sneak a peek.

“Are you ready?”, Robbe asked as soon as they entered the tv room.

After Sander nodded, Robbe took his hands away from his eyes and said, “I know it’s not much, but I hope you like it and that it cheers you up a bit… you can open your eyes now.”

And when Sander did his eyes filled with tears immediately. 

There, in the middle of the tv room, was a blanket fort, decorated with shiny Christmas lights and filled with soft cushions and blankets inside. Netflix was already on and laying on the many blankets there were some food and drinks for them to share. It was something so simple, so small, but it made Sander so happy he couldn’t even form words to thank Robbe.

“You made this for me?”, he finally let out, voice unsteady.

“Mama helped a little”, Robbe smiled.

Sander turned around and hugged Robbe as tightly as he could. “I love you, so much.”

“I love you too.”

They stood there for minutes, just hugging and enjoying each other’s presence until Robbe remembered the popcorn and went to the kitchen to grab it.

When he came back he saw Sander just standing there, looking amazed at their blanket fort.

“Shall we?”, Robbe broke the silence, asking Sander if they should enter the fort and settle down for the night.

After arranging themselves around one another, not even an inch separating them, finding the perfect position to cuddle and watch a movie, Sander thanked Robbe again.

“I still don’t know what I’ve done right in the world to deserve someone like you”, Sander shook his head, forgetting about the movie that was playing for a minute.

 “Please know I feel the same way”, Robbe chuckled, lazily playing with Sander’s hair, soothing them both at once. “I’ll never understand how I managed to have someone as amazing as you by my side, but we did it, and we deserve each other”, he looked down at Sander, finding his gaze from where his head was laying on Robbe’s chest, “because we’re both good and we deserve good things. We deserve each other”, he reassured him.

Sander nodded, tears brimming his eyes once again.

“And we’ll keep doing so every day, baby, no matter what, okay?” Robbe assured. “It’s you and me. 100%. Forever....”

“... in every universe”, Sander agreed.

They kissed each other then.

-

A few days later new measures were taken and people were finally allowed to leave their houses for little walks and exercises outdoors. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to bring a fresh wave of hope that things would somehow be okay eventually, so Robbe and Sander took every opportunity they could get.

They knew things weren’t suddenly back to how they always were, but they took things day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute, just like they’ve been doing since that day Robbe found Sander in his art room at the Academy and they knew that for the time being it was enough.

They had each other and it was enough.

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- first of all thank for reading! i hope you liked it! if you want to, tell me what you think!

- secondly: thank you @ayellowcurtain​ for proof reading this, you’re an angel

- and last but not least:  Hoje Eu Quero Voltar Sozinho is called The Way He Looks in English. The song playing in the credits is There’s too much love - Belle and Sebastian. The book they’re reading together is Gmorning, Gnight!: Little Pep Talks for Me & You by Lin-Manuel Miranda.

[eleathyra-art]

Review by Jô P.: Fragments of your Soul by E. S. Erbsland

“Life gave Arvid a lemon, and she made a  Caipirinha.”

(The original review is in Portuguese, so below is a google translate version in English. Original far below, and link to the source here.)

The review:

Good Morning! I'm not one to comment or create posts... But I stayed up until 03:00 in the morning, reading Fragments of Your Soul.

I want to thank the PL and Shifters teams. Well I'll try to make a brief review, without spoilers. From now on, forgive me if I write or type something wrong. I only slept 3 hours tonight... Anyway, let's go.

Is the book worth reading? YEA! MUCH!

Is the book too big? YEA! But I guarantee you all: no page or scene is unnecessary.

Do you have hot scenes? Few.

It's romantic? It depends on what each reader means by romantic.

Does it have a happy ending? oh! This is the cat's jump!!!! What is happiness? Guimarães Rosa says that "...happiness, we find it in times of chance." AND? READ TO UNDERSTAND.

I'll try to explain...The book follows the structure of ALL books that recreate, or create new mythologies. Anyone who has read Tolkien, Lewis, Frank Herbert will understand. I think it follows the structure of Scandinavian sagas (beowulf type), but I could be wrong...

When I started reading the book I realized where the plot was going: first, the protagonist, Arvid is introduced in her world. His characteristics, mainly psychological (interesting that in her case, the physical doesn't matter, because we'll be very interested in Loke's physical characteristics, and only later, we'll notice his emotional characteristics....). Then how she ended up in the Shadow World. Then the Arvid saga begins: learning to live in a new world, new customs, new languages, finding a way to return to the World of Light. With that, we see her interacting with the other characters.

Eventually, we meet the antagonist, who is also the protagonist (read!). But we're STILL focused on Arvid's new life and the challenges and heartaches she has to go through. Halfway through the book we realize that NOTHING is what it seems, and the story shifts focus and we begin to follow Arvid and Loke's interaction. And from then on I can't say anything else, because I'll give spoilers.

But why is the book good? Because despite dealing with legends, myths, supernatural beings, all characters are in the same struggle as us: earning a living, getting a job, going to college, paying the bills, falling in love with the wrong person, falling in love with the person right, wrong with the right person, right with the wrong person, and, above all, live with every act and choice of everyday life. We've all done things we regret. We've all regretted that we didn't do some things. And we've all had to close the past and understand that when we make a decision, we must back it up and learn to put an end to what's over. And moving on, even when we're finished physically, emotionally, because the world won't stop because we're sad, desperate, or in mourning. The world goes on. The pain is ours but the happiness is also ours. That's why I liked the book: life gave Arvid a lemon and she made a caipirinha out of it. She did what she had to do, with what she could do at that moment. And Loke, the god of Chaos, was what he was: the chaos we all carry inside of us: unfulfilled wishes, or very well-fulfilled wishes that took us the wrong way.

I warn you here: Loke is straight-forward. Many will be bothered by things and revelations about them. I read it myself and said: what is it like? But keep an open mind. Accept the God of Chaos without prejudice. We all have a dark, chaotic little place inside us. Anyone who has done psychoanalysis knows what I'm talking about.

Loke represents the unconscious... Arvid the conscious. Only in this book, the id is stronger. It's up to Arvid to bring the balance... Have you read The Power of Myth? The Hero with a Thousand Faces? These books tell us that we are all on a lonely journey in search of ourselves. When we put together the fragments of our souls, we are whole and we can love each other and love each other. So... we can say that Arvid and Loke, each in their own way, were on a lonely journey that, at some point, they found each other. What were 2 paths merged into one. And they knew how to appreciate the beauty of this meeting, transforming the 2 paths into a single one...

For me, the ending is VERY ROMANTIC and the book is worth it. Insist. Read a different book. Books like that are good for the soul. They bring our fragments together and make us whole, with a smile on our lips, because in the end, we realize that we all just want the hope of being happy. I don't pretend to sound cultured, erudite, nor am I a psychologist/psychoanalyst, but this book reminded me of so many things I learned about psychoanalysis!

Loke is not immoral or chaotic: he is what he is. Someone with his power (shifter and that's the only spoiler I'm going to give) can appreciate life, sex, nature, in a way that we mere humans would never understand. What for us is immoral, chaotic, dirty, perverse, for him, is a fragment of his own soul. I believe his emotions are very basic. He kills because he can, he has sex and falls in love (in many ways - READ) simply because he can. That's why he's all emotion (ID).

As for Arvid, the human, theoretically like all of us, could do the same: kill, love, whatever. But what prevents and prevents us is the deep moral sense and innate charity (EGO). Not that Arvid is a completely rational being. She is passionate, violent and loyal. But her moral sense is what Loke lacks, and Loke's self-centeredness is what Arvid lacks. In other words: a soul is a jigsaw puzzle of fragments of light and shadows, of morality and immorality. Of good thoughts, and perverted thoughts. Of purity and perversity. Of goodness and badness. What makes us human is the ability to know that everyone has a light within them, even when we only see apparent darkness. Arvid saw the light within Loke and Loke saw the darkness within Arvid. Accepting this in yourself and in others is the great adventure of life.

But, more than that, I believe the great lesson of the book is: HAPPINESS IS A DAILY FIGHT. There is no such thing as an entirely happy period. Over 24 hours a day, we experience good, bad, bad, stressful, because life is like that. Alongside the passionate kiss of his partner (o), there is the perrengue of not having money to buy the shoe; beside the job approval, there is the hassle of waking up at 5 am to take the bus. That's life. It's knowing how to live: knowing when to invest with everything for a dream and when to put a stone on the subject, because the subject is over. That's Arvid's great virtue: knowing when to insist and when to give up. This is the lesson that we should take for life... because the subject is over. That's Arvid's great virtue: knowing when to insist and when to give up. This is the lesson that we should take for life... because the subject is over. That's Arvid's great virtue: knowing when to insist and when to give up. This is the lesson that we should take for life. Review of Jô P.

Original Portuguese text:

Bom dia! Não sou de comentar ou criar posts....Mas fiquei acordada até às 03 horas da manhã, lendo Fragments of Your Soul. Quero agradecer às equipes do PL e do Shifters . Bom vou tentar fazer uma breve resenha, sem dar spoilers. Desde já, me perdoem se eu escrever ou digitar algo errado. Dormi só 3 horas essa noite....Enfim, vamos lá. O livro vale a pena ser lido? SIM! MUITO! O livro é muito grande? SIM! Mas eu garanto a todas vocês: nenhuma página ou cena é desnecessária. Tem cenas hot? Poucas. É romântico? Depende do que cada leitor entende por romântico. Tem final feliz? ah! Esse é o pulo do gato!!!! O que é felicidade? Guimarães Rosa diz que "...felicidade, a gente encontra em horas de acaso." E? LEIAM PARA ENTENDER. Vou tentar explicar...O livro segue a estrutura de TODOS os livros que recriam, ou criam novas mitologias. Quem leu Tolkien, Lewis, Frank Herbert, vai entender. Eu acho que ele segue a estrutura das sagas escandinavas (tipo Beowulf), mas posso estar enganada...Quando comecei a ler o livro eu percebi onde o enredo ia levar: em primeiro lugar, a protagonista, Arvid é apresentada em seu mundo. Suas características, principalmente psicológicas (interessante que no caso dela, o físico não importa, porque vamos ficar muito interessadas nas características físicas do Loke, e só depois, vamos reparar nas características emocionais dele....). Depois, como ela foi parar no Mundo das Sombras. Daí começa a saga da Arvid: aprender a viver num mundo novo, costumes novos, línguas novas, achar um jeito de voltar para o Mundo da Luz. Com isso, vemos ela interagindo com os outros personagens. Lá pelas tantas, conhecemos o antagonista, que também é protagonista (leiam!). Mas AINDA estamos centrados na nova vida de Arvid e os desafios e tristezas pelos quais ela tem que passar. Na metade do livro percebemos que NADA é o que parece, e a história muda de foco e começamos a acompanhar a interação de Arvid e Loke. E a partir daí eu não posso falar mais nada, porque vou dar spoilers. Mas por que o livro é bom? Porque apesar de tratar de lendas, mitos, seres sobrenaturais, todos os personagens estão na mesma luta que nós: ganhar o pão de cada dia, conseguir trabalho, entrar na faculdade, pagar as contas, se apaixonar pela pessoa errada, se apaixonar pela pessoa certa, errar com a pessoa certa, acertar com a pessoa errada, e, principalmente, conviver com cada ato e escolha do dia a dia. Todos nós já fizemos coisas das quais nos arrependemos. Todos nós já nos arrependemos de não termos feito algumas coisas. E todos nós já tivemos que encerrar o passado e entender que quando tomamos uma decisão, devemos bancá-la e aprender a colocar um ponto final no que acabou. E a seguir em frente, mesmo quando a gente está acabado fisicamente, emocionalmente, porque o mundo não vai parar porque estamos tristes, desesperados, ou em luto. O mundo continua. A dor é nossa mas a felicidade também é só nossa. É por isso que eu gostei do livro: a vida deu um limão pra Arvid e ela fez uma caipirinha com ele. Ela fez o que tinha que fazer, com o que dava pra fazer naquele momento. E Loke, o deus do Caos, era o que era: o caos que todos nós carregamos dentro de nós: desejos não realizados, ou desejos muito bem realizados que nos levou para o lado errado. Já aviso aqui: Loke é direto na fala. Muitos vão se incomodar com as coisas e revelações sobre eles. Eu mesma lia e falava: como é que é? Mas tenham a mente aberta. Aceitem o Deus do Caos sem preconceitos. Todos nós temos um lugarzinho escuro e caótico dentro de nós. Quem já fez psicanálise sabe do que eu estou falando. Loke representa o inconsciente....Arvid o consciente. Só que nesse livro, o id é mais forte. Cabe a Arvid trazer o equilíbrio.....Vocês já leram O Poder do Mito? O Herói de Mil Faces? Esses livros nos dizem que todos nós estamos numa jornada solitária em busca de nós mesmos. Quando juntamos os fragmentos de nossas almas, ficamos inteiros e podemos nos amar e amar o outro. Então...podemos dizer que Arvid e Loke, cada um a seu jeito, estavam numa jornada solitária que, em algum momento, se encontraram. O que eram 2 caminhos se fundiram em um. E eles souberam apreciar a beleza desse encontro, transformando os 2 caminhos em um único....Para mim, o final é MUITO ROMÂNTICO e o livro vale a pena. Insistam. Leiam um livro diferente. Livros assim fazem bem pra alma. Juntam os nossos fragmentos e nos tornam inteiros, com um sorriso nos lábios, porque no final, percebemos que todos nós só queremos a esperança de sermos felizes. Não tenho a pretensão de parecer culta, erudita, e nem sou psicóloga/psicanalista, mas esse livro me lembrou tantas coisas que eu aprendi sobre psicanálise! Loke não é imoral ou caótico: ele é o que é. Alguém com o poder dele (metamorfo e esse é o único spoiler que eu vou dar), pode apreciar a vida, o sexo, a natureza, de uma maneira que nós, meros humanos, jamais compreenderíamos. O que para nós é imoral, caótico, sujo, perverso, para ele, é um fragmento da própria alma. Eu acredito que as emoções dele são muito básicas. Ele mata porque pode matar, ele faz sexo e se apaixona (de diversas maneiras - LEIAM), simplesmente porque ele pode. Por isso ele é todo emoção (ID). Já a Arvid, a humana, teoricamente como todos nós, poderia fazer o mesmo: matar, amar, sei lá. Mas o que a impede e nos impede é o profundo senso moral e a caridade inata (EGO). Não que a Arvid seja um ser completamente racional. Ela é apaixonada, violenta e leal. Mas o senso moral dela é o que falta em Loke, e o egocentrismo de Loke é o que falta em Arvid. Ou seja: uma alma é um quebra-cabeça de fragmentos de luz e sombras, de moralidade e imoralidade. De bons pensamentos, e pensamentos pervertidos. De pureza e perversidade. De bondade e maldade. O que nos torna humanos é capacidade de saber que todos tem uma luz dentro de si, mesmo quando só vemos a escuridão aparente. Arvid viu a luz dentro de Loke e Loke viu a escuridão dentro de Arvid. Aceitar isso em si mesmo e no outro, é a grande aventura da vida. Mas, mais do que isso, eu creio que a grande lição do livro é: A FELICIDADE É UMA LUTA DIÁRIA. Não existe um período inteiramente feliz. Ao longo de 24 horas do dia, passamos por sensações boas, ruins, péssimas, estressante, porque a vida é assim mesmo. Ao lado do beijo apaixonado da companheira (o), tem o perrengue de não ter dinheiro pra comprar o sapato; ao lado da aprovação no emprego, tem a chatice de acordar às 05 horas pra pegar o ônibus. A vida é isso. É saber viver: saber quando investir com tudo por um sonho e quando colocar uma pedra no assunto, porque o assunto acabou. Essa é a grande virtude da Arvid: saber quando insistir e quando desistir. Essa é a lição que deveríamos levar para a vida..... Resenha da Jô P.

[pebblysand]

of tyres that blow (extended author’s note of chapter v. of castles)

- - TO READ THE CHAPTER ITSELF, CLICK HERE. - -

Oh, what a month it has been. Well, a month and two days - I’m a bit late updating. I’ve had two good things happen, writing wise. 1) I got my first original short story published (!!!!) (you can read it here) and 2) I put out a little one-shot about Fleur Delacour that I’m super happy about and gave me an idea about a new series (more on that later this week, I hope. I might need help with prompts!). Regardless, this latest Irish lockdown is fucking endless and I sometimes wonder if this fic isn’t just an outlet for my feelings of lockdown-induced loneliness, apathy, but also a constant argument that I have with myself thinking: for the love of god, just pull yourself up, will you? You’re a Gryffindor, goddamn it. I certainly wish my fucked up sleeping patterns on no one, although I may or may have Mary-Sued that onto Harry, lol. (Spoiler alert: he’s scheduled to get some real sleep in next chapter. All bets are off regarding whether I will.)

This chapter was surprisingly easy to write (I basically vomited out chapters iv, v, and vi over the span of a week in December) but incredibly difficult to edit. For days, I just couldn’t concentrate, wrote and re-wrote and felt like everything was shite. Then, I realised it’d become this 19,000-words long monster so I had to cut a lot of shit out. We ended up with 15,898 words which I suppose is better? 

I do wonder: do people mind long chapters? Like, I know as fanfic reader, I personally prefer longer formats and rarely gravitate towards works that are less than 3,000 words. I love just getting buried into a story, into plots rather than single scenes. This being said, every time I write something that I deem too long (i.e. above 10k) I have these excruciating struggles where I wonder: should I cut it in half? should I leave it as is? I decided to split the last one. Then, I decided not to split this one because (you may notice this or not, I’m not sure) it’s kind of built a certain way, geared towards basically getting to the last two paragraphs. Like, when you get there, it’s a bit of an ah-ha moment, but I couldn’t get to that ah-ha moment without all the build up before it. It’s the accumulation of all of these little details that feel like they don’t matter. And as Harry says in the end, they don’t, in the grand scheme of things, but also they do. Like, everyday life doesn’t matter until you lose it. Then, it does, if that makes sense.

In terms of next update... I’ve decided to get my law licence transferred to France and the EU (it’s a long story), which means that I need to bloody, fucking study. The exams are at the end of March so my current plan is: hardcore study until the end of february. Mix study/writing in early march and hopefully get chapter vi out mid-March, then hardcore study until the end of March. Please, if you see me posting then, tell me off in the comments cause god, I really need to pass. Now, I will go have my traditional i-ve-put-a-chapter-out shot of limoncello and let you read the below :).

...spoilers for castles, chap v. under the cut -

I’ve done a lot of thinking about what this chapter is meant to be about. Obviously (I hope), every chapter has a point, in this story. Chapter 1 is about time (the way it passes and blurs when your mind’s a complete mess), chapter 2 is about hope, chapter 3 is about inevitability and the consequences of trauma, chapter 4 is about becoming an adult and growing into your own skin, etc. I think this one is about fear. How you feel it, and how you overcome it. Like, Harry takes a decision to stand up, fight, do the interview, regardless of the fact that he is scared (for his life, for that of the people he loves), and finds buried inside him a lot of the courage that he (felt) he lost, after the war. He learns to control his fear of the world by figuring out how apprehend it, through the training Giulia gives him, through learning how to kill, too. 

But, it’s also about fear in society. How the attack on Robards sets everyone on edge and how they keep going regardless. I initially wrote this chapter with the idea that it was going to be about speaking out and being brave, but obviously, fear and fighting against it is a huge part of that, too. 

Then, there’s Mia. Obviously, this fic is Harry/Ginny endgame but I do like the idea of Harry (and possibly Ginny as well) dating at least one other person, before officially tying the knot. Like, yes, Ginny is obviously coming back next chapter. She’ll probably own the second half of next chapter, if I’m honest, considering they’re obviously going to the burrow for christmas. I love Ginny, I’ve missed her and honestly, I can’t wait to bring her back. This being said, to be fair, I’ve kind of realised that this fic may actually be the first I ever write that isn’t strictly “shippy.” Like, yes, their relationship is a huge part of it (it’s a huge part of his life) and it will and was always going to be a huge part of this story but I think this fic is larger than that. It’s a result of my years-long obsession over: but what happens next? Over what “all was well” really means, in a general sense. How do they get to “nineteen years later” and beyond. But yeah, I’ve missed Ginny and I’m glad she’s on her way back to us now. 

Now, obviously. Giulia. I’m sorry. This was always going to happen. Well, almost always. I remember when I first wrote her in, she was a bit of a filler character. At the time, the thing with Mia was supposed to happen in last chapter and I actually had (have) much more backstory around her, than around Giulia. She and Harry were going to have proper conversations (will they ever, who knows?), really get to know each other. But then, Giulia came first narratively and shone through the page. I started writing her and she had this personality and life of her own and I couldn’t bring myself to curtail her. 

Now, we all know how it is: fanfics can only tolerate so many OCs. So, I had to choose between putting Mia at the forefront, or Giulia. I chose Jules. 

Then, in chapter 4, I wrote this: 

Her first lesson is to teach him how to drive the patrol car. ‘I don’t know why we use them,’ she explains, honest, and Harry vaguely wonders if he should be taking notes. ‘Reckon the Ministry saw them being used by Muggles, had to prove they could do better. They like making noise, the Ministry, don’t they? Lots of sirens and shite.’

Politely, Harry hides a chuckle behind a cough. He clearly doesn’t know yet that he doesn’t need to, that Giulia’s sarcastic sense of humour is one of the things that he’ll come to appreciate the most in this world, over the next few months. That the sound of her voice is one he’ll try to never, ever forget. That in the speech that he’ll give when he makes Head Auror, over a decade later, he’ll think of her and say: ‘Okay, let’s try to not just be sirens and shite, all right?’

This kind of tumbled out without me really thinking about it until I really looked at it and thought: fuck, why is he talking about her past tense, like that. Like “the sound of her voice is one he’ll try to never, ever forget.” Why would he forget it, though? And so, just like that, came her death sentence. For that, I apologise. It killed me too, and I cried when I wrote it in (especially when I wrote next chapter, actually, first time I ever made myself cry writing, if I’m honest) but it just needed to happen. It’s how Ginny and he get back together (I mean, obviously - is that even a spoil) because he’s grieving but she’s grown stronger and steady and she’s able to be there in a way that she wasn’t last summer. It did occur to me that god, all his mentors/father figures come to die, don’t they? But honestly, I kind of thing that his real mentor will be Robards, at the end of the day. She was just the one who allowed him to get back on his feet. 

One last note: I’ve been meaning to put this into the fic for ages but have never found the right moment to write it in. In the meantime, I’ll just say it here, because I don’t know if this has frustrated some of yous - I know it might have driven me mad. There is a logic to the Muggle/Wizard swearing/exclamations in the fic. Obviously, this is an adult fic so they swear normally, like eighteen-year-olds would in this (I decided that very early on), but also there’s “God”-s and “Merlin”-s and things like that. 

Now, I think that throughout this fic, although Harry hasn’t mentioned it yet (cause it never fucking fits anywhere) Hermione’s been having a sort of Muggle reckoning. She - in conscience - decides to start swearing/exclaiming “like a Muggle” after the war. If you notice, she only ever says “god”, never “Merlin.” Harry uses both interchangeably although he tends to use Merlin more when he thinks about wizard stuff, but God when he thinks about Muggle stuff (like when he’s with Mia). Ron only swears in “wizard” but I think he might start using Muggle expletives as well in the later chapters because of Hermione rubbing off on him. 

The fact that I even think about all that stuff is pathetic and I need to get a life. But that’s for another post, altogether. 

Anyway, thanks for reading. I hope you liked it :). 

[matrixaffiliate]

Endeavor

Chapter Update! FFN and AO3

Chapters 8-14 are Vic's POV, and I promise these chapters are where the fun Tedoire scenes are going to come. Fluff is in sight friends! Our next chapter goes up on September 12th. =)

Chapter 8 

Victoire sat on her bed with her knees up against her chest. She didn't know what else to do.

"Vicky," Dominique stuck her head in. "Maman says it's time for dinner."

"I'll be there in a minute," Vic nodded.

"For someone who just got engaged, you're not as happy as I thought you'd be." Dom leant against the door frame.

"I'm having a rough day is all."

"More like a rough two weeks," Dom flipped her braid over her shoulder. "I still don't understand why you quit working with Uncle Ron."

"I just wanted something more in line with what I want to do." Vic pulled her knees closer to her.

"And what is that?"

Vic dropped her head to her knees. "Nevermind, tell Maman I'm not hungry."

Dom shrugged, "She'll probably come up here then, just warning you."

"Thanks, Dom, I'll take my chances," Vic muttered into her knees.

Vic heard her sister walking down the stairs but surprisingly, she didn't hear her mum coming up.

It was just as well, how would she ever explain to her mum that she'd kissed Ted when she'd just agreed to marry Sean a month earlier? And how would she say how hard it had been not to kiss Ted again? How she'd melted into him? How she still thought about kissing him? How tempting it was to call off her engagement and go running after him?

Vic hoped she would never need to explain it all, but once dinner was done, Fleur wasted no time confronting her daughter.

"Two weeks, ma chérie, two weeks," Vic felt her mum sit down at the foot of her bed. "Pourquoi?"

Vic shook her head against her knees, "I'm just having a rough go of it."

"No," Vic felt her mum shift on the bed, and then her mum's arms were around her shoulders, "No, there is something more, Je le sais."

Vic swallowed hard against the tears that she'd been fighting since Ted had walked away from her for the last time.

"Dîtes-Moi, ma chérie, you'll see, it will all feel a bit better if you do."

"Oh, Maman," Vic felt the tears press through her closed eyes.

"Je t'ai eu, ma chérie," Her mum pulled her closer.

Vic clung to her mum and gave in to the tears. She'd managed to keep them at bay for two weeks. She'd distracted herself by pretending to plan her wedding and pretending to look for a new job. But she couldn't hold them back any longer, and her heartache over everything was suffocating.

"I'm a terrible person!" Vic finally managed to get something other than her hiccuped breathing out.

"No, no, you are not," Fleur brushed Vic's hair back from her forehead. "Why do you say such things?"

"I, I kissed," the words were lodged in her throat and she didn't think she could push past them.

"You kissed?"

Vic felt her chest trying to cave in on itself, trying to create a black hole to suck her into.

"I kissed him, I kissed Ted."

"Ah," Fleur squeezed her arms a little tighter around Vic. "And this is why you turned down Ron when he wanted to make you a part of the new business?"

Vic nodded as the tears returned full force.

"Have you told Sean?"

Vic shook her head violently, "I can't! He'll be so mad!"

Vic felt her mum draw in a long breath and let it out slowly. "Do you know why you kissed Ted?"

"He," Vic bit her lip, "He told me that he loved me, that he'd fallen in love with me over the six months of working together. And I just, when he leant in, Maman I wanted him to kiss me."

She started sobbing again. What was wrong with her? She was in love with Sean...wasn't she?

"What did you say when he said he loved you?" Fleur ran her fingers through Vic's hair, trying to soothe her.

"I didn't know what to say!" Vic cried. "I just kept telling him he was my best friend!"

"Sean is not your best friend?"

Vic shook her head.

Fleur pursed her lips, "Vicky, you know I love you, but if Sean is not your best friend, why are you marrying him?"

"Because, because, I, I guess, I mean, I said yes when he asked..."

"And the boy can't be bothered to set a date to marry you," Fleur's voice had gone hard.

"I, I," Vic's voice cracked and she gave in to the sobs again; because her mum was asking questions she didn't have answers to.

"I am going to write a few things down," Her mum stood and collected a notebook and pen from Vic's desk. "I want you to take some time to think about them."

Vic wiped her eyes on her jumper sleeve, "Maman…"

"Non, ma chérie, first you must find yourself, then the answers will come. I can not give them to you."

Fleur set the pen and notebook at the foot of the bed. "If you get hungry, come down and I'll heat up a plate for you."

Then she kissed Vic on the forehead and slipped out of the room. Vic closed her pen in the notebook before she could look at her mum's writings. She already had a pretty good idea of what it said, and she didn't think she could handle those questions right now.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Vic waited until everyone was off at work and school before she left her room the next day. It was easier to not have everyone trying to cheer her up, or asking about a wedding she didn't even know if she wanted now, or why she wasn't wearing her engagement ring all the time.

She'd taken it off on her drive home that Friday and every time she'd tried to put it back on she felt sick. She didn't deserve to wear it. She didn't deserve to wear something that signified love and commitment.

Vic tried to distract herself from that train of thought with making breakfast, but fate had other plans. Sean's picture lit up her phone screen as his call came through.

"Hi," She tried to animate her voice to sound happier than she felt.

"Hey, Vic, I need a favor. Mike is tricking out the Datsun for me today and I need a lift to my flat after work."

"Oh, yeah, sure," Vic forced a smile. "What time do you need me there?"

"I'm thinking of skiving off early and heading out at three."

"Ok," Vic took a deep breath, "Do you want to get dinner together?"

"Why don't we make something at my place?" Sean's voice was warm, and Vic felt her guilt trying to eat her from the inside out.

"That sounds wonderful. I'll see you at three."

"Thanks," Sean disconnected the call.

Vic looked down at the screen as she gripped her phone tightly. Should she tell him tonight? At least he wouldn't have a car to go anywhere if he was angry. Which meant he wouldn't end up with another speeding citation. That would be good. And he'd have to take an Uber if he wanted to go to a pub. That would also be good. But these good things didn't seem to do anything to ease the anxiety and dread that filled her like bile pushing at the back of her throat.

Breakfast now seemed like an unwise decision.

Vic settled for a cup of tea and retreated to her room again. Her notebook caught her eye and Vic decided there was no way she could feel worse right now, she might as well see what her mum had written down.

Her mum's crisp penmanship was daunting as Vic read the few lines.

You and your desires are important. You are a good person. You are brave. You must decide your life's story.

Vic blinked. None of that was what she'd expected.

Vic had expected more of the questions that she had no answers to. The same questions that ran through her brain constantly. The ones that she could hear distant echoes of the answers, and they were terrifying. And even more terrifying were the questions she wouldn't even allow herself to start to ask, because they held answers that made her lungs collapse and her eyes see stars.

But these four lines were strange. Firstly, because they weren't all true, Vic didn't think a cheating person could also be a good person. And secondly, because they weren't what Vic would have found helpful right now. Right now, she needed to know what to do, not have a list of things her mum thought about her.

Vic tried to put it from her mind and opened up her draft of her book again. If only she really could escape to this world she'd built. She could function there better than she could here, at least she liked to think she could. But who knew, maybe she'd find that she was as much a failure in her own world as she was in the real one. The fact that she could tell something was off with her story only reinforced that feeling. Vic spent the next several hours digging through her notes in her manuscript trying to find what was wrong to no avail. She'd done this a few dozen times before already, and like those previous failed attempts, this time around came up with no improvement.

She'd been planning to see if Ted wanted to read through it for her and try to help her get to the bottom of the story's problem, but that plan was obviously out the window.

When it was time to go, she put the manuscript on the back burner again, took a deep breath as she slid her engagement ring back on her hand, and jumped in her car to collect Sean.

Seeing him waiting by the curb made her stomach hurt.

"Hey," Vic smiled as he climbed in. "Do we need to stop at the market on the way?"

"Change of plans," Sean grinned. "Mike finished early, we need to go grab the Datsun, and then I'm taking her to the track."

Vic blinked.

"Oh, alright, where is Mike's? You've never taken me there."

"You know what, it's hard to get to. Why don't you let me drive?"

Vic gripped the steering wheel.

"I'm sure if you just tell me where to go, I can get us there without any problem."

Sean traced her chin and tipped his sunglasses down this nose. "Come on, don't be that girl."

Vic could feel her guilt trying to eat her stomach while her anger tried to burn through her chest. But rather than let either emotion vent out, she undid her seatbelt.

"There's my girl," Sean kissed her, but Vic pulled back and opened the car door.

"We better hurry so we can get your car to the track. Do you want to get dinner after?"

"That's a good idea, you should grab something and bring it to the track."

Vic stared at him after she climbed in the passenger seat.

"Aren't we going to make dinner at your flat?"

Sean pulled out of the car park.

"I'm going to need to be working out how these upgrades are working out, Vic. This is going to take the rest of the afternoon and most of tonight. Not everyone can work on a '78 510 Coupe and I only let Mike do it because he's a friend. I'm going to have to figure out everything that he's screwed up so I can fix it all this weekend."

"Dinner tonight was your idea," Vic felt her voice going shrill and tried to breathe.

"Yeah, but things changed. I still want to do dinner; I just want to do it at the track now."

Vic tried to ignore how angry she was. She tried to ignore how hurt she was. She tried to tell herself that this was her being selfish, and she needed to take an interest in Sean's interests.

She tried.

But by the time they made it to Mike's garage, she was fuming.

Sean undid his seatbelt and Vic locked the doors before he could get out.

"Why won't you pick a date to marry me?"

"Come on, let's not rehash this again." Sean unlocked his door but Vic hit the power lock button again.

"No! Do you even want to marry me? Why did you ask if you won't set a date?!"

"Vic, I love you," Sean tried to unlock the door again but Vic was faster.

"Then why won't you set a date?" Vic felt her volume increasing but she didn't bother to monitor it.

"Why is this so important to you? What's wrong with being engaged for a few years?"

Vic felt the air sucked out of her lungs.

Sean took advantage of her shock and escaped the car. Vic watched him walk into the garage, her driver's side door still open from where her fiancé had run.

A few years.

Those three words echoed in her mind. Sean wanted to be engaged for a few years before they set a date. Vic was sure there was someone out there who thought that was a good idea, but she was not that someone.

Slowly, she stepped out of the car. Her feet carried her inside where Sean was talking with Mike. She slid the engagement ring off her finger and grabbed his hand.

"I'll leave your key in your flat." She set the ring in his palm and turned on her heels before marching out the door.

"Vic! Wait!"

She didn't wait. And when she got into her car, she saw that Sean wasn't running after her. Just as well, he obviously didn't want to marry her, why would he actually work for this relationship?

Vic felt numb as she drove to Sean's flat. She didn't cry as she loaded all of her things into grocery sacks she'd found. She didn't flinch as she left her key on his bedside table. She didn't bemoan when she closed his door for the last time.

It wasn't until she was driving home that Vic realized she hadn't told Sean that she'd kissed Ted.

The numbness made her brash and she popped in her headset and called him.

He sent her straight to voicemail, which seemed to solidify Vic's resolve. If he couldn't be bothered with her call then she wouldn't be bothered to tell him this properly.

"Hey, I was going to tell you tonight that I kissed someone that wasn't you a couple of weeks ago. I don't think that matters much now since you didn't want to marry me, but I felt like you should know."

She hung up and suddenly hot angry tears started falling down her face. Her sobbing came in short gasps and Vic had to pull the car to the side of the road because she couldn't see through her tears.

It was all so messed up!

Why had she even been with Sean? Why had she put up with all the things that drove her mad for so long? Why hadn't she been brave enough to get out of the relationship when she'd first realized she was unhappy? Why had she tried to convince herself she was happy?

But what hurt worse than anything else was that in all of this mess, she'd lost Ted, she'd lost her best friend.

When she'd finally cried herself out, Vic drove home. First, she went through and slowly removed all traces of her and Sean together. She deleted every picture of them together. She pulled down every mention of him in every post. She unfollowed, unfriended, and blocked him on every platform. Then she took her wedding binder, pictures of her and Sean that she'd printed off, and everything that reminded her of him and threw it all into the fireplace. She sat on the floor with her knees against her chest and watched the flames slowly smolder everything she'd wanted to destroy.

"Vicky?"

Vic looked up at her dad's concerned face.

"It's over," she sniffed, "and you were right."

Bill was instantly on the floor next to Vic, his strong arms holding her close.

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart."

"Why am I so stupid?" Vic curled into her dad's embrace and let the tears fall again.

"You aren't stupid. We all have moments like these."

"You don't," Vic sniffed. "You do everything right."

Bill laughed. "Victoire, look at my face and my arms. That motorcycle accident before I married your mum was me being brash. I went for a ride on the beach without my helmet, and I over judged a corner. I'm lucky I only ended up with the scars. Trust me, Vic, I'm far from perfect."

"You didn't get engaged to someone you had been trying to convince yourself you loved."

"No, but you figured it out and called it off," Bill squeezed her shoulders.

"Did Maman tell you what I said last night?" Vic figured her dad would be disappointed in her for what she'd done. She had been avoiding him for fear of what he'd think.

"She did, and I can see where you were coming from."

Vic's head shot up, "What?"

"Well, when someone isn't loved by the person kissing them, it makes sense that when a different person comes along who does love them and does treat them the way they deserve, that they'd be inclined to kiss that new person."

Vic curled further in on herself, "It wasn't fair to Ted, though."

"No," Bill stroked her back, "but I would take some time to figure out how you really feel before you go running back to Ted."

"Ted's great!" Vic defended.

Bill chuckled, "He may be, but you just called off your engagement, Vicky, and you quit your job. Take some time to sort out what you want your life to look like before you go jumping into anything, especially a relationship."

Vic rested her head against her dad's chest and nodded.

"Alright," Vic sighed as the flames turned the last of the items in the fireplace into black charcoal. "I'll take some time to figure myself out."

Bill kissed the top of her head.

"You've got this, Vicky, I know you do."

And for the first time in months, Vic thought maybe she might be able to at least do one or two things right.