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#living in the past and future / living in the present

calabria-mediterranea · 2 days

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25 April - Anniversary of Italy's Liberation

25 April also known as the Anniversary of Italy's Liberation is a national holiday in Italy that commemorates the victory of the Italian resistance movement against Nazi Germany and the Italian Social Republic, puppet state of the Nazis and rump state of the fascists, culmination of the liberation of Italy from German occupation and of the Italian civil war in the latter phase of World War II. That is distinct from Republic Day (Festa della Repubblica), which takes place on 2 June and commemorates the 1946 Italian institutional referendum.

Every year on 25 April Italy celebrates Liberation Day, known in Italian as Festa della Liberazione, with a national public holiday.

In addition to the closure of schools, public offices and most shops, the day is marked with parades across the country, organised by ANPI, Italy's partisan association which preserves the memory of the Resistance movement against Fascism.

The occasion is held in commemoration of the end of the Fascist regime and of the Nazi occupation during world war two, as well as the victory of Italy's Resistance movement of partisans who opposed the regime.

Formed in 1943, the partigiani comprised a network of anti-Fascist activists, from diverse backgrounds including workers, farmers, students and intellectuals, across Italy.

Resistance

Together they united in armed resistance against the Nazi occupation and the Fascist regime, making their struggle both a war of liberation and a civil war.

The annual event marks the day in 1945 when a nationwide radio broadcast calling for a popular uprising and general strike against the Nazi occupation and Fascist regime was announced by the National Liberation Committee of Upper Italy (CLNAI), a political umbrella organisation representing the Italian Resistance movement.

This announcement - made by partisan and future president of Italy Sandro Pertini - resulted in the capture and death of Fascist leader Benito Mussolini, who was shot three days later.

The Festa della Liberazione represents a significant turning point in Italy's history, paving the way for the referendum of 2 June 1946 when Italians voted in favour of a republic and against the monarchy which had been discredited during the war and whose members went into exile.

Scurati controversy

This year's event takes place against the backdrop of a political controversy after the state broadcaster RAI stopped a well-known Italian writer from delivering an anti-fascist monologue on television a few days before the Festa della Liberazione.

Antonio Scurati accused RAI of censorship after his monologue was dropped abruptly from the Saturday night talkshow Chesarà for "editorial reasons".

The writer claimed that the move highlighted the alleged attempts by premier Giorgia Meloni's right-wing government to exert its influence over the state broadcaster which has seen several veteran presenters leave over the last year including Fabio Fazio, Bianca Berlinguer and Amadeus.

In his speech Scurati criticised the "ruling post-Fascist party" for wanting to "re-write history" rather than "repudiate its neo-fascist past".

RAI director Paolo Corsini rejected any talk of censorship, as did Meloni who responded to the controversy by posting Scurati's text on her Facebook page, stating that the broadcaster had "simply refused to pay 1800 euro (the monthly salary of many employees) for a minute of monologue".

Meloni added that the Italian people "can freely judge" the contents of the text which was later read live on air by Chesarà presenter Serena Bortone in an act of solidarity with Scurati.

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thepersonalquotes · 2 days

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Never worry about the Past, it brings Tears. Don’t think too much about the Future, it brings Fears. Live in the Present Moment with a Smile, it brings Cheers!!

RVM

#quotelr #quotes #literature #lit #inspiration #motivation

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sorchathered · 3 days

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Look yall I’m just gonna be transparent here.

I have zero patience for cliques and childish behavior. I just want to fangirl with people who love the same shit I do and write smutty little stories. If that’s your vibe that’s awesome we can totally be friends. If you are the type to talk shit about people just because you have nothing better to do or because you are jealous of someone else I need you to gtfo of my space, I am halfway through my thirties and I’ve done some living, childish drama is something that stays in my past and I won’t let it mar my present or future.

Some of yall need to grow up. Touch grass. Go buy a vibrator to release all that bs you clearly have built up.

✌️

#I’m too old for childish bs #this is supposed to be fun #if it stops being fun I’m out #eff this shit #fanfiction is supposed to be fun #let me have something fun in my life please #people are going to leave the fandom in droves if this keeps up

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katuschka · 3 days

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Olalla – Chapter 01

Josh Kiszka x female OC, Jake Kiszka 4.965 words

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, intended for adult readers. Any resemblance to real persons is purely coincidental. Also, if you're under 18, go find some other entertainment elsewhere. Warnings: sadness, heartbreak, talking about death, anxiety, alcohol consumption

Taglist

I had a dream that the sky above the mountains darkened, but it was just my beloved’s darkening eyes.

I had a dream there was a lightning brightening the skies above those hills, but it was just my beloved’s cheeks that lightened.

I had a dream in which I saw storm clouds approaching, but it was just a boy making love to his beloved. (I Had a Dream, Čechomor)

It was true that Jake and Josh had seen the world, but their trips and explorations were always restricted by time. Everything was scheduled, planned and adjusted to fit the itinerary. Wherever they went, it was – first and foremost – a “business trip”. Sometimes they had days in between shows, oftentimes just hours. Be there on time. We don’t have enough time. You can visit only one of those galleries this time. Maybe next time... They were now rapidly approaching thirty, but haven’t yet experienced the simple joy of backpacking with all its perks and benefits. Freedom being probably the most important of them.

So, when the last show ended and it was time to fly back home, they decided to stay behind for a little while. It was a spontaneous decision, made in Josh’s hotel room after having had one too many beverages with several other people, none of whom shared their enthusiasm. Everyone just wanted to go home. They say there’s nothing like home and it’s true that there had been times when it meant something to the two of them as well, even after months spent away from it. But right now, their beds back home were cold and empty – a sad consequence, as well as a memento, of the lives they’d lived and the things they’d done. Could it have been prevented? Maybe, but what is past is past. It was the present that could and should be taken care of, and there was still the future to be shaped.

Even though the others tried to talk sense into them and nearly succeeded, by 4 am, the two of them finally made up their minds that it was time to really choose the road. “Time to write my own fucking screenplay,” Josh said. After a short nap, they repacked the essentials, said their goodbyes and hopped the train that was supposed to take them to all those yet to be discovered places.

Because it was summertime, last-minute accommodation options were pretty limited in larger cities. That only made it even more exciting, though, and turned out to be quite beneficial in the end. More often than not, they had to share a room that only had one king size bed. Not only they didn’t mind, it seemed as the most natural thing to do, and they welcomed it. Sightseeing or hiking during daylight hours, they didn’t want to part and disappear in their separate dens in the evening, like they did on tour. Touring – with all the rush and stress and boredom – often made them feel lonely.

They knew they had been hurting, they were well aware of the reasons why, but there had not been enough time to come clean about it. So, now, their late night talks often ended with at least one of them crying as the reminiscences of the people who no longer wanted to be part of their lives turned into shared melancholy.

Sharing…that’s what the trip turned out to be really about. Two brothers who once shared a womb, who later forged their mutual dreams about healing humankind through art into their shared destiny. Now they opened up to each other about how much they feared loneliness and lack of love. And it was a shared fear, too. It wouldn't be fair to say that there wasn’t enough love or affection in their lives, on the contrary. They were showered with it in great abundance. Their parents, siblings, other family members and all their numerous friends all loved them dearly and unconditionally, simply because they existed. The plentitude of it, including their mutual love for each other, shaped their personalities and nurtured their souls as they grew up.

That’s how they learned about the importance of love. They knew very well how lucky they were. Forever grateful, they wanted to share it and to pass it on…and then they were told that they didn’t. The reality hit them in their faces like a freight train loaded with reproach.

That’s how they found themselves mourning the kind of love they thought they failed to provide, the one they thought they consequently didn’t deserve. Once they conceded this to each other, they had to face the fact that they felt ashamed. They also had to admit that their own broken hearts still hurt, the raw and barely healed wounds opening up again during those midnight talks. A few times they fell asleep in a comforting embrace.

Wawel Castle, Krakow

“I think we should head back to the hotel.”

When Jake came back from the bathroom, Josh was still leaning over the railings, looking down at the river bend just below the high stone outer wall. He felt so much at peace up here, the fragrant summer air saturated with the scent of trees, damp stone, vanilla ice cream – as well as sudden whiff of ozone – filling his nostrils. They weren’t alone here. The courtyard was still full of people at this time of day, but the humidity muffled all the conversations as well as shrieking kids that were running around, and turned it all into a pleasant hum. It all felt almost dreamlike. Somewhere in the distance, less than a hundred miles further south, were the mountains…

Their adventure was nearing the end, it was their time to fly home the next day. It had rained heavily that morning and the forecast for the whole day promised volatile weather as the fronts collided, but that didn’t stop them. There were still a few places in Krakow which particularly Josh wanted to visit. Not really in a hurry, they went out for early lunch; later they were just idling around in the old town, eating pretzels and doughnuts, drunk on wine. It was almost 5 pm now.

“You're probably right,” Josh finally replied, looking at the sky with a frown, “but I’d really love to stay here a little longer.”

Jake didn’t say anything, just nodded. They stood next to each other for another ten minutes, overlooking the southern part of the city as well as ominous clouds that had formed near the horizon and were now slowly approaching. The wind was rising, playing with their hair, tossing the strands wildly from side to side. They should have been running for shelter by now, but the fresh breeze made them feel completely and utterly reckless. Jake started humming a familiar tune and Josh quickly chimed in: “But the fool on the hill sees the Sun going down

And the eyes in his head see the world spinning 'round…” …and they bursted out laughing like two madmen as the other people around them scrambled in their feet, looking for a place to hide, girls squeaking as the first raindrops hit the ground.

Now they were running too, heading back to the Old Town, passing crowded restaurants and pubs that didn’t appeal to them anyway. People were running around like ants and the storm clouds and the heavy rain quickly covered the streets in a blanket of semi-darkness. Soon they no longer knew where they were headed. They obviously missed a turn back to the main square and not much later found themselves on a much more quiet and nearly abandoned street that probably wasn’t on a tourist map. The storm hit in full force.

“Not a fucking thunder,” Jake groaned. They were both already absolutely drenched. Trying to find their way back to the hotel in the pouring rain now proved completely futile as they were probably at least a mile away from it anyway, and being no longer in the area of fancy cafés and parfumeries, looking for shelter of any kind wasn’t that easy anymore, either. A small – and already closed – grocery shop here, a tenement doorway there…finally they spotted a pub that looked promising. Both of them craved a beer anyway.

The pub was pretty cozy and warm. It was actually more like a café, only situated below the street level, in the cellar of the building. They sat in silence for a while, but Josh was becoming increasingly restless with each minute, chewing his lip and tapping his fingers on the table. “Ok, what’s going on,” Jake finally asked.

“I’m staying.”

When it was met with a half-confused, half-annoyed stare, he continued. “I mean, just for two more weeks. I’d like to go hiking.”

The confusion was gone. Jake was just annoyed now. “Explain. Where? Why?”

“The Tatras. A guy told me the other day… You were still asleep, so I went out to have some breakfast. You know, Krishna bistro across the street… The place was already crowded by 9 am so these two guys joined me at my table. They just came from their hiking trip down there and showed me some pictures.They called the place ‘miniature Alps’, so you can’t get lost,” he laughed nervously. “It’s a spur-of-the-moment thing, see? But I feel I need it.”

Jake needed a moment to decompress. This whole trip had been a “spur-of-the-moment thing”...and they did it together. They had also agreed that it was exactly what they needed, so what the fuck is this bullshit? Josh sensed the impending question even before Jake formed the words in his head.

“You still have some work you need to finish before the start or the next leg…but I don’t. That’s why I didn’t tell you before. You’d just try to convince me to go home with you. I know it’s a long flight…I’m sorry Jake, but I really need to do this. For once in my life.”

“It’s insane Josh. And probably dangerous. And it’s mid-season. You probably won’t even find free lodgings. Then what?”

“I already booked it. The guy gave me a tip. Jake…don’t be mad. You know it’s irrational. We’re adults.”

Jake was angry. But he had to agree that it was irrational. They drowned the irrationality in a few more beers and so it happened that the next day, their ways parted. Jake boarded the plane headed for Gatwick while Josh took the train south.

Jake

London, 12:15 pm

The weather improved considerably since yesterday, but I still couldn’t shake off the sense of impending doom. At first I thought that it was just the anxiety I often felt when flying, this time multiplied by the fact that I was completely alone thousands of miles away from home and wouldn’t even get there sooner than the next morning, at the very best. Only to be greeted by my housekeeper, if I were lucky. Then I remembered that since there was no one else there, she also only came on Mondays every other week while I was away, to do the most necessary tasks like making sure that the house wouldn’t be buried under a layer of gray dust when I came back.

However, I landed in London about half an hour ago, downed a beer, had a smoke, but the unpleasant feeling that something bad was about to happen still lingered. I couldn’t put my finger on it, all I knew was that I already missed Josh.

It was completely irrational. We were adults. I had no right to be angry that he stayed behind, but I was. We spent more time together in the last two weeks than we had in over a year. I mean really together, not just next to each other. It was supposed to be our trip, the purpose of which, among other things, was to shake off the growing feeling of loneliness that comes with this lifestyle. So, me being annoyed with him now was perhaps understandable. But anxious? As I said, I hate flying. Having to fly alone sucks and I was about to board a transcontinental plane later that afternoon. I finally convinced myself that anxiety was also understandable. Nothing to be ashamed of…I guess. Still, something seemed off.

Agnieszka

Zakopane, 5:40 am

I checked the weather app again. Yes, definitely a perfect day for a hike. The sky was perfectly clear after yesterday’s storm and the air coming through the open window felt crisp and fresh. With a bit of luck, it would stay that way well until early afternoon, although one could never be sure here.

That’s what I both love and hate about the mountains. Even now, at the age of total control over everything, the mountains are unpredictable, uncontrollable and untamed. Even if we destroyed all the life they harbour, bare and stony valleys would still kill you even more easily if you were bold and arrogant enough to venture too far. Many people come here to conquer the mountain. That’s why we hear the sound of rescue helicopters a few times a week.

Have you ever smelled wet granite? I don’t mean cobblestones or granite walls, but the rough stone, spewed out to the surface of the earth by the untamed power of this planet, broken and twisted with the forces of nature like plasticine…even though a small piece could easily break your skull. There are places here where jagged rock towers a kilometer over your head. When the clouds hang low, try just standing at the bottom of a glacial cirque, surrounded by numerous peaks. It’s a deeply humbling experience. The place literally breathes. You can hear it sing its ominous song and its cold breath can chill you to the bone. These places are indescribably majestic and beautiful…and also scary when you experience the power firsthand.

Dominik was never scared. He loved the mountains very much, but he had lost all his humbleness. This place does not forgive such folly. He fell 500 meters and was probably dead even before his body hit the ground. It took them three more hours to find him. By that time he was already half buried under fresh white snow. They couldn’t save him. It happened in one of those gorgeous, scary places and I never saw him again. I burned my white dress that day.

But that was more than 6 years ago…and I’m still here, taking care of pretty alpinists who come and go, but never stay. Fucking them is convenient. Sometimes, the sensation left by their warm skin pressed against mine lingers longer than I’d deem comfortable and safe, but no one broke my heart again. Mom keeps telling me that my decision to never marry after what happened is breaking hers. She prays for me every Sunday, but she never understood. My father is like a domesticated chamois. A former mountaineer, tamed by a local beauty. Now he spends more time chopping wood and fixing old pipes. He says his knees hurt, but I know he’s happy down here with her. I like men who are just as wild as the wolves running over these hills, but to actually love them is a slow and painful suicide. I barely recovered from the first one. The next would also be the last.

My dad has been a caretaker of Villa Eulalia for as long as I remember, and even before. I grew up here, surrounded by wild nature and the people who tried to monetize it. Later, my parents bought the building and Eulalia became our family business. It’s much more than that, though. It’s home. Surrounded by new, modern and luxurious hotels owned by townspeople who don’t know this place at all, we’re old residents who offer shelter to those searching for peace here.

There are generally two kinds of people who come to Zakopane: vacationers and explorers. We don’t offer nice views, jacuzzis and sparkling wine. We will – however – make you breakfast at 5 am.. Whether you want to explore the hiking trails that belong to all or hidden places in your mind that are your own, we are your people. We are the same.

I couldn’t imagine my life to be any different. I had been climbing these hills since I’d learned to walk. I went to Krakow to get my master’s degree in tourism management, I travelled a bit, made some new friends and even considered some other life options for a while, but I came back eventually. I missed the fresh air and the soapy smell of mountain grass. I needed to be here.

I was also needed here. With my parents getting older and my younger sister having a family of her own in her cozy city home, I became a maid, a receptionist, a cook, a webmaster and an occasional mountain guide. My parents don’t speak English. Well, not much, anyway. They know a few phrases, so they can greet our visitors and ask them about their day, secretly praying that they wouldn’t really want to answer those questions. Most of them don’t…unless they’re young and handsome. Those talk to me, though.

We didn’t have any foreign visitors at first, but later they slowly started coming. It was my sister’s job to take care of them at first, with me being away most of the time back then. But later, with three young kids, she couldn’t – and no longer wanted to – keep doing that any longer. So I came back and took over.

In August, the holiday season is in full swing. I didn’t have a day off since early July and really needed to get out and clear my mind a bit. I can’t stay in town all summer, not when the paradise is literally just a few steps away. This morning seemed like a perfect opportunity. There were no planned checkouts for today, I already managed to get all the rooms for all the new expected guests cleaned and ready the day before and most of them were locals, with one Slovak family arriving later in the afternoon. Dad should be able to take care of that.

While I was sipping my morning coffee, I checked the mailbox one last time just to be sure everything would be taken care of while I was away, only to discover there were two new last minute reservations. Kováčová…some Slovak lady with two more people who wouldn’t arrive until later in the afternoon, room 8. That one’s also ready. I vacuum-cleaned it two days ago. So, that should be OK. Aaand, the attic room for…some Kiszka. Perfect. I took one last sip, grabbed my backpack and was ready to go.

Agnieszka wasn’t in a hurry, knowing too well that her muscles would hurt like hell the next day if she didn’t take it easy. She was fit enough to set a much faster pace, but this was not a workout. Not today. In mid august, the former sheep pastures in Hala Gasienicowa were in full bloom and covered in violet. It was also a rather steep route that led there so even though she reached the place at half past nine, she could already feel a familiar burning sensation in her calves.

This was a perfect place for late breakfast. Yesterday’s wind was gone and once she got past the tree line, the sun was already high up in the sky, warming her skin enough to let her shed all the unnecessary layers of clothing. “Bathing in the breeze” was her favourite pastime. There was no better way to describe it. It was also still early enough to be able to enjoy the calmness of this place, which would be buzzing with life only an hour or so later as more people arrived.

It was already past noon when she reached the borderline ridge at a beautiful spot called “Lily Saddle” that separated High and Western Tatras – her final destination for the day. Most people aim for peaks, but she always loved mountain saddles and ridge routes. Reaching them wasn’t easy. You always had to overcome steep, rocky and often exposed tracks to get there. By the time you reached the saddle, you were high on endorphins and adrenaline, your whole body overheated from exertion, only to be greeted by icy wind that kept rumbling up there even during the hottest days of the year, sometimes tossing you from side to side like a rag doll. It was like falling in love…

She usually felt at peace here, even when she had to literally wrestle with the element. Not today. Today, she felt agitated. It started further down the road and intensified exponentially as she reached the saddle. She contemplated going further west along the ridge to calm her nerves a bit, when her telephone rang. It took her a while to find it in her bag, but the caller seemed super determined.

“Dad?”

“Neszka, where are you? An American just arrived… Apparently, he’s got a reservation. I need to house him.”

That must have been a mistake, she went through the reservations. Someone probably arrived at the wrong hotel. There were several of them called Villa Something Something in Zakopane…

“Daddy, that’s impossible. I double checked. We’re expecting a small German group on Saturday, but otherwise no foreign guests.”

“I’m not making this up. He’s here in front of me and I see him in our reservation system as well.”

“Name?”

“Joshua Kiszka.”

Fuck… That was probably why she felt so uneasy? Never underestimate your gut. Her subconsciousness knew she fucked up.

“Ok, get him on the phone.” She took a deep breath, expecting an outpouring of anger, the person on the other side berating her and demanding an explanation. Some people had the weirdest reasons for complaints and refund reasons, and this situation clearly was her fault.

Instead, the voice belonging to a young man sounded amused. He, too, tried to explain the situation he found himself in, even though there was no need for him to explain anything. With the wind gushing and roaring around and the service being shitty up here, she couldn’t even hear him properly, so – after what she hoped was the most heartfelt apology she could deliver – she tried to make it as brief as possible.

“Ok, listen, my father – that’s the man you tried to talk to – my dad will show you your room. Just…. make yourself comfortable, there’s a large garden behind the villa and free beverages in the fridge outside your room… You will find it with ease… And I’ll be there in three hours at the very worst. Then I’ll show you around and will tell you everything you need to know.”

“Don’t worry. I haven’t slept much at night so I’ll probably just take a nap. All I need is a bed to lie on…if it’s ready,” he chuckled again.

Fuck. With that, she took a few big gulps of water and started descending.

It was past four in the afternoon when she got back home, hot and sweating and out of breath, but the shower could wait. She stopped briefly by the kitchen to ask dad how well it went and then headed straight to the attic floor, taking stairs two at a time. She knocked on the door and…nothing. She had to repeat it two more times – at least it gave her the opportunity to catch her breath – before the door finally creaked open.

“Hey, I’m so sorry I kept you waiti…oh!”

The man who answered the door was unlike anything she had expected. He was approximately the same height as her, slender, not overly muscular but still well toned. She could tell quite easily, because he was in fact naked from the waist up, rubbing his sleepy eyes and smiling at her while still trying to shake off the post nap confusion.

She didn’t realize that she was staring until he spoke, and took a few steps back inside the room, basically letting her in. “Uh, oh, sorry, it’s a bit hot here under the roof, he chuckled again as he picked up a basic t-shirt from the floor and pulled it over his head. “And you must be the charming lady I spoke to on the phone earlier?”

He looked like someone straight from DaVinci’s painting…if DaVinci lived in some arty, boho community instead of a 15th century Milan: fine features, rosy cheeks, kind yet mysterious eyes, plump lips and soft curls with trimmed sides and a messy braid that ended between his shoulder blades, decorated with a tiny shell.

“Uuuh, yeah, yes, that’s me. I tried to get here as soon as possible, but it took longer than I expected and…”

“Please, don’t apologize. I see you went hiking. So cool! It must have been absolutely fabulous up there today. You must certainly give me some tips. Where to go, what to see... I heard how beautiful it is here. Saw some pictures too. But I’ve never been here, so I absolutely don’t know what to expect. I will need to buy some clothes and other essentials as well, this was a last minute decision. I helped myself to a beverage from that fridge, by the way. I hope it’s ok. I had peach iced tea…,” he kept on rambling as he tried to clean up the room that already looked lived-in even though he had been here for only a few hours.

She watched him, completely bewildered. But she already liked him. He was cute and wild and kind of sexy. Strange, but with a pretty face. Two weeks. He’s alone…yeah, and you’re sweaty, red faced and you stink, you idiot!

“…me around?”

She realized he was still talking, when put her back to earth. “What?” That chuckle again…

“You told me you’d show me around. I got my key, I know where the drinks are, I saw the garden, it’s fanTAStic, by the way…so, what else do I need to know?” he asked cheekily.

That put her back into her professional mode. She explained that she wouldn’t clean the room more that once a week unless he would specifically ask her to do so, privacy being held in high regard here…; she showed him where to find extra toilet paper and fresh towels, where to throw the dirty ones; she showed him the kitchen he had to share with several other rooms, told him about free tea and coffee and that he shouldn’t bother with washing the dishes, he should just leave them in the sink and she would take care of it. She also told him where to buy everything he needed and she had to bite her lip a few times when he absentmindedly touched her arm.

Later in the early evening, Agnieszka still couldn't shake off that unfamiliar restlessness she felt back up on the ridge. It lay heavy on her chest, compressing her lungs. She tried to read, but it was no use. Reading was a distraction fit for dark and rainy evenings, but the cloudless sky didn’t want the night to take over just yet. Even here, among steep hills where the sun sets early, the skies were still ultramarine blue and… vast.

The warm light on her bedside table wasn’t enough to disperse the magic of the blue hour. Instead of trying to reread the same paragraph for the third time, she put the book down and opened the window to let the cool and fragrant air in.

As soon as the scent of pines and freshly mown grass hit her nostrils, she also heard a soft hum coming from below. Looking down, she saw him sitting on a wooden garden table, with his feet on the bench. He had his back to her, sipping beer, his fingers rapping on the withered wood. He was also the source of that slow melody.

It reminded her of Dominik. He used to sit by the fireside, farther back in the garden. His guitar was often out of tune and people made fun of him, but he always just smiled and continued to play. It often baffled her that he didn’t mind, because it sounded awful, and he must have heard it. The man could sing!

Apparently, so could Joshua, but it was something completely different. Dominik’s voice was low and thick, and when he hummed her favourite songs, such as Sad Eyes, it often made her drowsy. Joshua sounded like the girls singing old local folk songs about dying from a broken heart. She had never heard anything like that. He sang silently, as he obviously did not want to disturb the calmness of dusk, as well as other guests behind their own open windows. Yet it made her heart flutter in her throat.

She watched, entranced, how his breath animated the muscles of his lean back, covered only in sheer white cotton in spite of the air getting increasingly chillier with every passing minute.

Agnieszka tried to lean out the window a bit more, which made the shutter crash against the wall, causing him to look her way. She panicked and ducked under the sill. Realizing how childish it must have appeared, she slowly straightened and saw him still looking in her direction, smiling. He gestured to the second can of beer standing on the table next to him and silently motioned her to join him.

She took a deep breath and nodded. She grabbed her cardigan, closed the window and went out to join him, oblivious to the fact that the way down the stairs and out the back entrance which led straight to the garden was in reality a steep, rocky road to ruin.

@writingcold @its-interesting-van-kleep @takenbythemadness @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @fleet-of-fiction @edgingthedarkness @thewritingbeforesunrise @myownparadise96 @lvnterninthenight

...and because you reblogged the teaser, this might interest you, too: @klarxtr @jakesleftankle @itsafullmoon @woyayaofdreams @pasionatematty @zoelle16 @tripthelightfantastix This is just for now. Let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist.

#greta van fleet #gvf #josh kiszka #josh gvf #jake kiszka #jake gvf #greta van fleet fanfiction #greta van fleet fanfic #gvf fanfiction #gvf fanfic #Spotify

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crookedkryptonitebeliever · 11 hours

Note

Ok regarding that “can i make Yves do my homework if I give him my childhood pictures” ask, exactly how much access does Yves have to our lives? Does he have images or videos from when we were still a baby or would they be new information to him?

A bunch of my baby pictures and videos are lost because my dad lost the computer that had them but we recently found my aunt’s old camera filled with our childhood pictures, it was a pleasant surprise for us but would it be for Yves too?

It absolutely is. If Yves was there with you while your aunt showed you the photo gallery of her old camera, Yves would momentarily lose a bit of inhibition and let his pupils dilate to a maddening degree before instantly constricting it back to appear normal. It's a rare, super deluxe edition photos of you, there isn't anything else like it out there as they're most likely not uploaded to the internet or a cloud based service, where he could easily hack.

Him coming across media from your childhood or at least during those early days where people still go to and get their photos developed, is like winning the lottery for him. Because, although he tries to collect everything relating to your existence, there is only so much he can do in a day. He rather prioritizes the present and the future, as the past is the past; neither you nor him can change it, he can only understand or connect it to your current behaviours or thought patterns.

He does have some information about you as a baby or a child, but that is if they're "readily available" to him. (I.e., it can be found in predictable places like in your childhood home.), that is why, Yves would try to build a good relationship with people you grew up with, to extract information.

Despite being reclusive as he is, Yves would never fail to attend every and any family gathering he is invited to or expected to come. Encouraging that drunk uncle to drink more if he knew he has something to say about you, bribing your relatives with gifts and career opportunities, perhaps even drugging that really difficult and combative cousin to make them more bearable to interrogate.

As soon as he knew your aunt could be another goldmine of your data, he would get to work. Wasting no time building a rapport with her, it's a piece of cake given how obsessive and manipulative his nature is.

Inevitably, your aunt will come to love him and see Yves as family. By extension, her relationship with you will skyrocket too, she will invite you to her place much more often even though she might not be the most sociable person in the first place. Yves will find a way to make her bend to his whims.

The majority of their conversations would be about you, only sometimes Yves would talk about something else if it meant he could keep the drive to spill more about your lore going. His sharp ears and mind will pick up on clues as to where he might find more pictures or writings about you. He would then break into your aunt's home to give it a thorough shakedown and leave without a trace. Yves would repeat this process until he's positive that she has nothing left to offer. That camera is getting fucking stolen and replaced with a duplicate.

It didn't matter if your aunt was a minimalist or a severe hoarder, he would go through all her things just to try and find pieces of your puzzle. He would wade through cobwebs, dust piles, rat droppings and mould if he had to, Yves isn't scared to get dirty to obtain what he wants, "squeamish" isn't in his vocabulary.

When she is robbed of all your essence, Yves would become distant. Not hostile towards her, just cold and indifferent. He would still maintain some sort of relationship with her though, in case she becomes useful again later. As of now, he either puts his entire focus on your current peripheral and direct life, or start to hunt other members down- from his snooping, he had learned of other people who may have valuable input about your childhood.

All of this is happening in the background. You wouldn't suspect a thing, there wasn't a dip in his attention for you. In fact, he may have gotten a lot more smothering, as Yves would be shaking at the thought of testing out his new theories and hypothesis that were birthed from his new knowledge.

He just loves you so much that he couldn't help himself but to get greedy. Yves wants all of you; past, present and future. And any version of you that could have been.

#yandere #yandere oc #yandere x reader #yandere male #oc yves #yandere concept #tw yandere #yandere oc x reader #yandere x you #male yandere oc x reader

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acourtofthought · 2 days

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I just saw an Elriel post that highlighted the "mating bond is a bridge between souls" line and then showed Feysand quotes to emphasize the point. They then showed the Elriel quote, "the only bridge of connection between them...that knife" and a quote that says how Lucien had "done nothing to bridge the gap between them"

I find it ironic that they used that specific quote for Elriel since it literally says that the ONLY bridge of connection between Elain and Azriel is truth teller, and then Elain gives truth teller back. Meaning there is no more bridge connecting them.

Also, I will never understand how they bash Lucien for apparently not trying hard enough to connect with Elain, but as soon as he does try anything, they scream that he's possessive and taking away Elain's choice. So, what exactly do they want from him?

Also, there is a quote from Lucien where he literally says that the bond between him and Elain is real, "it's a read thread." So, is there an emotional gap between Lucien and Elain right now? Yes, which is completely understandable. But is there also a mating bond, a bridge between souls, between them? Also, yes.

To your point at the end, it is ok there's an emotional gap between Lucien and Elain. I don't want them connecting in someone else's book, I don't want Elain's feelings to be evident for him where I'm not getting to experience it all from her POV. I don't want a flashing neon sign proclaiming "they're in love!" rather than seeing it happen in their story. SJM left me enough hints to feel confident while still looking forward to their romance playing out in real time. Also, this wasn't in the novella for shits and giggles: "Stay out of it. She's not ready, and neitehr is he, no matter how many presents they bring." "Let him live with his Band of Exiles. Let him deal with Tamlin in his own way. Let him figure out where he wants to be. Who he wants to be. The same goes with her." "Just be patient. It'll sort itself out. It always does." "I want them to be happy. All of them." "They will be" She said the simple words with such unflagging conviction that I believed her. That covers it all. The reason Elain and Lucien are currently at odds, the reason Lucien still has not attempted to bridge the gap. Neither is ready, they still have too much of their own problems to figure out before they can turn to romance. Elain needed to accept becoming fae, needing to consider the possibility of actually being with a fae (and not jumping right into an intense mating bond), Lucien needed time to really think about what he wants from his future, where he wants to live (it's not going to be the human lands forever), how he wants to deal with his relationship with Tamlin. Now that SF has ended they've had 16 months to do exactly that and there's a good chance that Mor's prediction is about to take off. The funniest thing is they'll destroy Lucien's character for keeping his distance from Elain while applauding Az for doing the exact same thing. Lucien can't stand being near Elain because he sees her current distance and it hurts him. It's evident he still thinks about her, he asked Feyre how she was doing, brought her a present, asked if she still mourned Graysen (which means he is respecting the love she had for someone else). We know an unfulfilled bond can drive males mad and that is another reason it's a strain for him. Az avoided Elain because he can't stand the scent of her bond. Did she ask him to stay away? Did she ignore him? Lucien is doing what he's doing because he's respecting Elain's clues for space and time though it pains him to do so. Az is doing what he's doing for his own selfish reasons. Elain could have used a support system in the NC over the past year but Az chose to focus on his own needs instead of what would have been best for her. The scent of her bond isn't going anywhere and he chose to make that the driving factor of whether to spend time with her or not which means he'll never spend time with her unless the bond suddenly disappeared. That's not a worthy male. And yes, "the ONLY bridge of connection, that knife." Which means, after Elain returned TT, there was no remaining bridge of connection. Sure they were willing to make out but the author is LITERALLY telling us there's nothing to support their pairing long term. The one thing that seemed to connect them is not the foundation that true love is built on. It makes me laugh when this line is used romantically but when the other hints that are used throughout the series also receive the blinder treatment, I guess I shouldn't be surprised. Like Elain and Az outside, his leathers SO AT ODDS with the beautiful garden. Or Elain with spring blooming behind her and death on the other side. Elain sitting in the sunniest windows, as if "any bit of darkness was abhorrent", Elain in black, "no matter that she declared herself part of this court, it sucked the life from her."

A near kiss and a few glances mean nothing when the author is continually feeding us line after line about how Elain is not where she's meant to be and she's not ending up with the guy who is completely at odds with her in every way despite her efforts to distract herself from her problems by engaging in a crush on him.

#pro elucien #elucien #anti e/riel

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thewritingmagician2022 · 3 days

Text

MC Moves on in the Human Realm (Req) - Dateables

Diavolo: Diavolo is surprised and that confuses him. He knew of course that there was a chance you would find someone when you went back home to the human realm but he’s still surprised you managed to find someone that you seem to love so deeply. In the back of his mind, Diavolo always thought you would be back. From the very beginning, it has felt like you were meant to be a part of the Devildom, a part of his life. He’s had a lot of training on how to control his feelings so you won’t know how upset he is about this. Lucifer and Barbatos can both tell because he tends to get lost in own thoughts a lot and Diavolo is haunted by the “what-ifs?” of what could have been if you’d kept you down there with him.

Barbatos: Barbatos knew this was coming. He knows everything - he’s seen your past, present, and future. He always knew that you were going to go home and, even without his powers, he would expect someone as wonderful as you to find someone and find happiness. It’s what you deserve after all. However, Barbatos also knows that you’ll be back and he’ll have you again, in one way or another. This knowledge gives him peace of mind and enables him to even find happiness for your happiness. You can enjoy this stage of your life for now; your path will always lead back to him in the end.

Solomon: Solomon has accepted your finding a new lover the best out of everyone. He’s thousands of years old and is a human himself. Do you know how many people he’s loved and lost? How many he never even let himself have at all to avoid a situation like this? It’s countless. He loves you. He will always love you - forever - because that’s how long he has to love. It’s why he’s genuinely happy you’ve found a mortal human to pour all of your love into; you two can live perfectly normal, natural lives together and enjoy your limited time together. Maybe he’ll find you in the next life time but, until then, he’s supporting you from a distance.

Simeon: Simeon wants to be happy for you. He should be good and patient and generous but really he’s feeling incredible jealousy and anger. He hates seeing you give anyone else your smiles or for someone else to have their hands on you. He spends every day praying for grace for this situation, trying to get back to the angel he knows he is. He should be better than this and he tries every day to be the good angel/man that you’ve always believed he was. He wants to be that person for you, even if you’re not around to see it. He does want you to be happy and he tells himself that every time a negative feeling pops up - besides, you’re a human. Mortal. Unattainable. For now. He’ll be looking for you when the time comes though, to remind you of what you’ve been missing.

#obey me #obey me asks #obey me imagines #obey me diavolo #obey me solomon #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon

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philosopher-blog · 2 days

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الخوف والاكتئاب والغيرة والشعور بالوحدة والخوف من الجديد أو المجهول يمكن أن يخلق بالفعل حواجز في طريقنا إلى الحب والعيش في اللحظة الحالية. يمكن لهذه المشاعر والشكوك أن تثقل كاهل قلوبنا وعقولنا، مما يجعل من الصعب احتضان جمال وإمكانات الحب بشكل كامل في حياتنا.

غالبًا ما ينبع الخوف من تجارب الماضي أو الشكوك المستقبلية، مما يجعلنا نتردد في الانفتاح على نقاط الضعف التي تأتي مع الحب. يمكن أن يعيقنا عن المخاطرة والاستثمار الكامل في العلاقات، خوفًا من الرفض أو الأذى المحتمل.

يمكن أن يؤثر الاكتئاب على قدرتنا على رؤية الخير في أنفسنا وفي الآخرين، مما يؤدي إلى نقص الحافز والشعور بالانفصال عن العالم من حولنا. يمكن أن يجعل من الصعب تقدير الحب الذي قد يكون موجودًا في حياتنا أو التعبير عن حبنا للآخرين.

الغيرة، التي تغذيها عدم الأمان والمقارنة، يمكن أن تؤدي إلى تآكل الثقة وخلق ديناميكيات سامة في العلاقات. يمكن أن ينبع ذلك من الخوف من عدم الاكتفاء أو الخوف من فقدان شخص نهتم به، مما يزيد من تعقيد قدرتنا على إعطاء وتلقي الحب بحرية.

يمكن للوحدة أن تزيد من حدة هذه المشاعر السلبية، مما يخلق شوقًا للتواصل والرفقة التي قد تبدو بعيدة المنال. يمكن أن تؤدي إلى العزلة والشعور بالانفصال عن الآخرين، حتى عندما يكون الحب موجودًا في حياتنا بأشكال مختلفة.

الخوف من الجديد أو المجهول يمكن أن يبقينا عالقين في الأنماط والروتينات المألوفة، مما يمنعنا من تبني التغيير والنمو الذي قد يؤدي إلى فرص جديدة للحب والتواصل. يمكن أن يخلق شعورًا بعدم الراحة بسبب عدم اليقين، مما يجعل من الصعب الثقة في تكشف رحلة الحياة.

للتغلب على هذه الحواجز والتحرك نحو طريق الحب والعيش في اللحظة الحالية، من المهم مواجهة هذه المشاعر والمخاوف بالرحمة والتفاهم. من خلال الاعتراف بنقاط ضعفنا وقبولها، يمكننا أن نبدأ في تحرير قبضتهم علينا وتنمية شعور أكبر بالانفتاح على الحب والتواصل.

يمكن أن تساعدنا ممارسة الوعي الذاتي والرعاية الذاتية وطلب الدعم من أحبائنا أو المتخصصين في التغلب على هذه التحديات وتنمية عقلية القبول واليقظة. من خلال التواجد في كل لحظة، يمكننا أن نقدر الحب الذي يحيط بنا بشكل كامل وفرص النمو والتواصل المتاحة لنا.

الحب هو قوة تحويلية وشفائية لديها القدرة على تحطيم الجدران وجسر المسافات وجلب الفرح والوفاء لحياتنا. من خلال اختيار مواجهة مخاوفنا، ومواجهة عدم الأمان لدينا، واحتضان المجهول بشجاعة وانفتاح، يمكننا خلق مساحة للحب ليزدهر ويزدهر في قلوبنا وعلاقاتنا.

لذا، فلنكن شجعانًا في وجه الخوف، وصامدين في أوقات الاكتئاب، ورحماء في لحظات الغيرة، وشجعانًا في أوقات الوحدة. دعونا نحتضن رحلة الحب بكل ما فيها من شكوك وتعقيدات، مدركين أنه من خلال الحب نجد الجوهر الحقيقي لما نحن عليه وجمال التواصل مع الآخرين.

Fear, depression, jealousy, loneliness, and the fear of the new or unknown can indeed create barriers on our path to love and living in the present moment. These emotions and uncertainties can weigh heavily on our hearts and minds, making it challenging to fully embrace the beauty and potential of love in our lives.

Fear often stems from past experiences or future uncertainties, causing us to hesitate to open ourselves up to the vulnerability that comes with love. It can hold us back from taking risks and fully investing in relationships, fearing potential rejection or hurt.

Depression can cloud our ability to see the good in ourselves and others, leading to a lack of motivation and a sense of disconnection from the world around us. It can make it difficult to appreciate the love that may be present in our lives or to express our own love to others.

Jealousy, fueled by insecurities and comparison, can erode trust and create toxic dynamics in relationships. It can stem from a fear of not being enough or a fear of losing someone we care about, further complicating our ability to give and receive love freely.

Loneliness can intensify these negative emotions, creating a longing for connection and companionship that may feel out of reach. It can lead to isolation and a sense of being disconnected from others, even when love may be present in our lives in various forms.

The fear of the new or unknown can keep us stuck in familiar patterns and routines, preventing us from embracing change and growth that could lead to new opportunities for love and connection. It can create a sense of discomfort with uncertainty, making it challenging to trust in the unfolding of life's journey.

To overcome these barriers and move towards a path of love and living in the present moment, it is important to confront these emotions and fears with compassion and understanding. By acknowledging and accepting our vulnerabilities, we can begin to release their hold on us and cultivate a greater sense of openness to love and connection.

Practicing self-awareness, self-care, and seeking support from loved ones or professionals can help us navigate these challenges and cultivate a mindset of acceptance and mindfulness. By being present in each moment, we can more fully appreciate the love that surrounds us and the opportunities for growth and connection that are available to us.

Love is a transformative and healing force that has the power to break down walls, bridge distances, and bring joy and fulfillment to our lives. By choosing to face our fears, confront our insecurities, and embrace the unknown with courage and openness, we can create space for love to flourish and thrive in our hearts and relationships.

So, let us be brave in the face of fear, resilient in times of depression, compassionate in moments of jealousy, and courageous in times of loneliness. Let us embrace the journey of love with all its uncertainties and complexities, knowing that it is through love that we find the true essence of who we are and the beauty of connection with others.

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momentsbeforemass · 1 day

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If only

(for someone who’s stuck in an “if only” state of mind)

If only .

We fill in the blank in a thousand different ways.

If only I could go back there again. If only he hadn’t said that. If only I could talk to her. If only they hadn’t done that.

No matter how we fill in the blank, they’re all really just ways of wishing for something we used to have. Or something we wish we had. Or something we never had. Or who we thought someone was.

Regardless, we don’t have it right now.

Really, it’s a little way of grieving for what we’ve lost.

It’s understandable. It’s okay to grieve. Because all of us have lost something. Including things that we hoped for, but that never happened.

Those losses? They’re the kind of losses that put us in an “if only” state of mind.

Wondering what things would have been like, if only…

Wondering why it didn’t last, if only…

A state of mind in which we can easily get stuck looking off in the distance. Whether it’s to a past we’ve lost. Or to a future that may never come. Or a bit of both.

Looking off in the distance isn’t the problem. It’s getting stuck. Putting all of our hopes, our dreams, our plans, our willingness to be who God created us to be – off there, in the distance.

Whether it’s a backward looking “I wish I still could…” Or a forward looking “someday, I’m going to…”

It leaves our life – and God’s purpose for our life – for another day. One lost long ago and never to come again. Or one off in the future that may never get here. Which means that it comes at a price.

Where we get stuck looking off in the distance, it comes at the price of now. It comes at the price of discarding the only moment that God has given to us. The only moment that we ever own. This present one.

Which is why now, more than ever, we need to heed that voice of the Spirit. That impulse to live out God’s call for our lives where we are. Not waiting for the big moment when everything is just right. But in the small context of today.

In truth, that’s the only way God’s call for our lives ever can be lived.

Don’t pine for the past. Don’t wait for the future.

Use what God has given you for this day. To do what God is calling you to do. Now.

As St. Catherine of Siena put it, “To the servant of God every place is the right place, and every time is the right time.”

Today’s Readings

#If only #Regret #Losing the present #What if #Grieving a loss #Present #Now #St. Catherine of Siena #God #Jesus #Catholic #Christian #Church #Catholicism #Moments Before Mass

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wreckham · 2 days

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How *exactly* did Mufasa die? Was he trampled to death? Was the fall itself lethal, the impact with the ground? Was his body stabbed by antelope horns as he fell on them?

there was a quick pressure, then a flash of light, then nothing. one of his eyes had been crushed in its socket, the "pop" drowned out by the deafening sound of the thundering herd.

the raw, cutting, burning rupturing of his liver and kidneys was unignorably all-encompassing to the point of being oxymoronically distant, for it was so unreal in its magnitude; he had been gored, and the site of the wound had been ripped open further, each stabbing hoof forcibly peeling back more and more of his hide from the mouth of the gash.

he tried over and over to move his legs, any of his legs, but each was broken so profoundly, shattered and splintered and stabbed in between so many muscles, that they didn't even twitch. he tried to move them despite knowing full well that he couldn't feel them anymore.

he could barely even feel the blood clinging to his fur, or on his whiskers and his skin.

it was surreal to him in the same way as seeing a mushroom cloud in the distance would be to you or i, knowing the pyroclastic flow was seconds away but being unable to do anything but watch in awe. he knew he was dying. how could he not?

time slowed as the shock began setting in. a unique rush of chemicals began filling his brain, though being an animal he couldn't understand what was happening. to him, time was not dilated. to him, he was not hallucinating. to him, he was living.

he was caressing the tiny body of his 2 day old son as his beloved wife cooed from over his shoulder. he was being granted position of king of the pridelands by his dearest friend, who whooped and cheered for this as any baboon would. he was sitting under the stars with his kid brother, taking turns pointing out constellations, images formed by the great kings of the past so as to tell mortal leonines of their futures.

taka's small red foot raised and pointed at two particularly bright, white stars.

"just like us, huh?" he'd said.

two days prior, back in the present and away from these looping memories, mufasa had been sitting under the stars with simba, pointing out the same constellations, elaborating on the same stories. simba had been enraptured with them, as all cubs are at such a tender age. the lad had tugged on mufasa's ear, his own little gold paw jutting out towards two more stars, one very large and one very small.

"look, look!" his boy had said. "just like us, huh?"

the pain was soon over, soon too foreign and physical and alive for him to understand. it simply could not register any longer. everything seemed so distant now, and so obvious besides. had he always been warned? lord, had he always known something like this would happen? had this been planned from the beginning, since their adolescent days of bonding and fighting and supporting and hating? and had it been his imagination, or had the larger of the two stars blinked out of existence that other night?

mufasa's throat spasmed and closed in a painful seize, forcing a thick, wet wad of something warm and foul smelling from his esophagus. out wheezed the death rattle, his collapsed lungs bidding goodbye to their utility.

it mattered not, for by now he could not see or hear. by now the left side of his face had been all but caved in, and by now he understood the greatest fear, the greatest of agonies. and it was not because his heart had stopped beating. it was much simpler then that.

his son had no one to protect him now.

and then mufasa died.

#the lion king #tlk #disney #asks #horror #gore #animal death #ask to tag #beck yammers #Once Again I Must Beg For Forgiveness For The Sin Of Having Written Disney Fanfiction

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