#(same for olena)

[the-jam-to-the-unicorn]

From the memorial event yesterday 💔

[harri-etvane]

(still) thinking about the glasses !

[heedzhee-art]

more of my yapping about the fandom-given hetalia Ukraine name

I don't like the Katyusha Ukraine because in my opinion it doesn't suit her, and people constantly use the name incorrectly. basically, Katyusha is like a playful version of "Kateryna/Katya", but people write it like a formal first name pretty often (Katyusha Chernenko), no blame since it comes from a place of unfamiliarity with slavic languages, it's just a bit annoying. plus the word is associated with that one russian song that became popular during World War II god it just doesn't suit her at all in my opinion 😭

"Katyusha" is a diminutive form of the name Kateryna, except it's of russian origin; in Ukrainian the diminutive forms of the name are "Katrusya", "Katerynka", or less commonly "Katrunya"

historically, the russian empire and later the soviet union promoted russian at the expense of Ukrainian, leading to the suppression of Ukrainian culture and language. of course, some Ukrainians use Katyush/Katyusha as playful nicknames, because the blending of Ukrainian and russian, that's been caused by reoccurring russification, migration, and political influence, lead to mixed usage in everyday speech – it's a normal thing (surzhyk). it's not a crime to use this word or anything, I just find it ironic that the character that represents a nation constantly oppressed by russian imperialism, in hetalia only exists as a dependant and less important character to give russia more endearing relationships and make him more interesting, and then the Japanese fandom coincidentally has also chosen the russian word for her name (I assume it's after that popular soviet song)

really I feel there's not much Ukrainian about canon hetalia Ukraine, which seems to be a very common feeling among many of my Ukrainian friends who know about the character :/ they think she's cute and pretty, but when it comes to national identity and culture, she is not relatable even on a stereotypical level, and has little depth as a character

anyway, if you want some Ukrainian first names, here's a list of the ones I think sound fitting (SUBJECTIVE OPINION 😡)

🇺🇦🔱🌻🍲🇺🇦🌾🌻🍞🇺🇦🍲🌾

Myroslava (love this one) - slavic origin, a combination of мир and слава, meaning peace and glory. it suits resilient and strong people

Olha/Olya (ОЛЯ UA!!!!!!!) - scandinavian origin (ukr. variant of Hélga). yea it's a really old and really common name that associates with the Kyivan Rus era, anyway I use it because of a meme and due to every Olya I've met building this collective Olya in my head that's literally how I also see Ukraine. she's such an Olya. it's hard to explain

Olena (not Olyena) - greek origin (ukr. variant of Helénē) came to Ukrainian through Church Slavic "Yelena" (not Yelyena)

Lesya - Ukrainian name deriving from "Olesya" which in turn derives from "Oleksandra". I'm very biased about it because it's one of my favourite female names, and also many Ukrainians associate it with Lesya Ukrayinka, which is the self-given title of an outstanding Ukrainian writer, translator and cultural figure

Halyna - likely greek origin and comes from "galēnē". I like it because I get to call her Halynka/Halya, I think it sounds cute

Tetyana - common slavic name, likely of roman origin, it just has a tender and pretty sound to it

these names are common in some or all other slavic languages, differing in varied phonetics

😑 I am NOT gatekeeping people from calling her "Kateryna", I just personally dislike Katyusha or russian Yekatyerina for her, and in my opinion the old russian-speaking fandom did a better job naming her Olha, even if that popularized the russian transcription for this same name (Olga)

my Ukraine is named Olha Tkachenko. I just like it the most and I've kind of grown used to it. whateva

I will kiss you.

[first-edition]

Fox and the Hound

Sum-Joffrey wants to send a message to your family after your brother embarrasses him, so he marries you off to his most unwanted man in his court, the hound. But will this marriage truly be a statement for an eyesore, or will it grow into something more. 

Cw for chapter- pregnancy, 18+ words and themes overall. Angst, death of husband, not prof read apologies for any errors, mention of sexual assault.

// A/N: just wanted to apologize for the broken links at the beginning of the book since i changed my username they haven’t been working but i assure you I’ll get to fixing them. I will also end up making a goggle docs with the entire book for downloading when this series ends//

previous chapter here

Chapter 19

Somewhere along the coast line the temperature became more fridged than it could’ve ever needed to be. You’d packed a few warm items but layered up heavily none the less. The boat at port long ago and the carragie and horsemen’s ride to castle black was nothing short of ‘fucking freezing’ as joss had put it. 

You arrived safe however. The gate immedetly opened at the hint of your arrival and despite the men being rapers, murdering, thieves and criminals they welcomed you with bows. 

“Welcome your highness your presence here blesses us all.” John speaks as he walks up to you before bowing. 

“You don’t need to do that.” You say helping him stand again. He chuckles nervously. 

“I want to thank you. For letting me stay here i recon with the long days I’ve been over seas the plague in volantis and the other corners has long since gone.” You say 

“you can never be too carful.” He says smiling you smile back to him before opening your arms he pulls you in for a hug but pulls away for a brief moment only to look down a bit where your stomach is hidden under your large cloak. 

“Are you…” he trails off you nod. 

“Wasn’t by any ill hand if you're insinuating. ‘Twas my husbands doing.” You say he frowns with hint of a smile and confusion. 

“We have much to discuss.” You say he chuckles and nods. 

“Apparently.” He laughs. 

“Y/n!” You hear a voice as John move out of your way Sansa hurriedly walks to you before hugging you but once again pulling back realizing your stomach. 

“Sandor.” You say she smiles and hugs you again. 

“Ive missed you so much” she says not letting go. As if you were. 

“Me too.” You say taking a few more seconds to hug your best friend before pulling away. 

“You found your way here after the fight in kingslanding?” You ask. 

“Yes but not on my own i have news to share with you much news.” She says you smile and nod. 

“Oh. This this my head lady in waiting Lucy, this is Sarah, and Meleesa. This is my squire joss stilwood” you introduce they Curtis and bow as followed. 

“Lets get you out of the cold first and ill show you your quarters and then i can share with you the much needed to speak about news.” Sansa says. You smile to her as she takes your hand leading you. 

———

“queen of the north..why arnt you in winterfell then if youre queen. Why isn’t john?” You ask 

“we have people holding down the fort. And im much more rather be stationed here at castle black more to do, however we will be going back there in the next month before the winter gets rough and id like you to come with, better rooms less men crawling about.” She says giggling at the last bit you laugh as well. 

“you dont look the same.” You say Turing to her. 

“Neither do you.��� She replies. 

“What? Is it my large belly?” You joke she chuckles and shakes her head. 

“N-no..you…you seem sadder.” She says. 

“As do you..what happened after black water Sansa?…” you ask quietly. She takes a seat on the bed next to you before taking a breath. 

“Jeoffry was bethrothed to someone else the lady Margery Tyrell of house highgarden-“ she begins 

“lady olenas granddaughter?” You ask she nods 

“Tyrion and i married.” She begins again 

“you married Tyrion Lannister?!” You ask shocked as ever. 

“I still needed to marry a Lannister per my fathers death note. He was kind, didn’t touch me kept me pure. At Joffrey's wedding he was poisoned and killed. Lord belish grabbed me and ran with me away from the gruesome sight i was put into a boat and we left for the vale to my aunt Lysa…but…only a few days there and- well we left eventually and he..he sold me to Ramsey Bolton. He wasn’t so kind in the marragie. He raped me abused me. But he got his dues.” She says 

“hes dead?” You ask. sansa nods a bit to proudly. 

“How?…” 

“hounds.” She says as he is well known for his love of using dogs to tear apart his vitcims. 

”then i ended up here little finger is with me but i hope not for long, john barley trusts him and good measure too anyone who trusts littlefinger is fool.” She says.

”i heard about the battle outside of the Bolton fields. Im glad you won.” You say. She dodges the scentece and asks you about yourself. 

“What of you? Your pregnant and showing for the gods sake. I rembering sitting on your bed you covered in bruises from him and now you carry his child.” she says 

“alright first of all it wasn’t like that you and i both know that Sandor didn’t bruise me for power it was an accident you’ve seen him, hes a lot larger than most assume.” You say. 

“In all honesty are you sure hes not part giant or something how can a man be that large and not be.” She jokes leaving you two to share another laugh before you continue on. 

“After black water Sandor joss and i were heading to volantis, home, but we got separated in princes pass by a theivery ambush he sent joss and i with the horse away while he fought the others off. We were supposed to meet at sunspear but the horse had an accident so we had to sale off at salt shore. We arrived in volants not long after porting and stayed for a while before the sickness hit. my father died from it and the last i saw of my mother she had it.” You say. 

“Then…what of volantis?” She asks. 

“Im next in line since my brother is gone and sandor is to reign with me but, if my mother passes on as well i do not want to sit on a throne the rest of my life and bark orders at people. I dont want to be queen and i can reassure you sandor does not want to be king.” You reply. 

“What of sandor any news from him?” She wonders. 

“…no…out paths haven’t crossed, hes not arrived in volantis and i fear the worst for him. I cannot be certain of his demise as theres not raven sent or sign but…” you trail off as she take you hand. 

“You’ll see him again. I know you love him and that’s enough to hold to. Dont you think?” She says you nod. She smiles. You nod giving her a quick hug before she speaks again and hops up. 

“Come on! There’s someone i want you meet another lady. A lady knight.” She says you raise you eyebrows confused. 

“Can ladies be a knight?” You ask. 

“She is! Come on.” She exclaims. You get up pulling you cloak on and following her out of the room and through the halls.

———

“lady Brienne!?” Santa calls to her as she pushes the sparing mate into the pile of snow before turning to face Sansa. 

”lady Sansa.” Brienne says bowing slightly. You admire her features strong yet still faire shes very tall and could almost apose sandor. She wears armor with a cloak to keep her a bit warm. 

“This is princess y/n of volantis, house vixen, married to house clegane by friend. We met in kingslanding when both had a debt to pay from our parents. Y/n this is Brienne of Tarth.” Sansa introduces you. Brienne gets down on her knees and lowers her head as soon as the word princess and volantis are uttered. 

“Your highness its an honor” Brianne says. 

“Oh no please..” you say asking you up she obeys and takes her stand. 

“She will be living with us till the foreseeable furture.” Sansa continues. 

“Pleasure to have you along.” Brienne speaks. 

“Lady Brienne this is my squire joss stilwood. If you should need anything of battle value joss may provide.” You reply to her. 

“My lady.” Joss says bowing a bit. 

“This is my um..squire podrick.” She answers. 

“Your highness.” Podrick says 

“weren’t you tyrion lannister's squire?” You ask him. 

“Yes your highness i was. He relieved me and i offered my useage to lady Brienne.” He replies to you. 

“Hmm you and joss should have much to talk about two squires from kings landing with royal practice.. should be fun.” You say a smile on your face. 

“If you dont mind my ask who did you squire for before?” Brianne asks joss. 

“Ser Gregor clegane then his brother sandor clegane during the battle of black water.” He says to her. 

“Y-your highness you said you married into the house clegane?” Brianne asks you. 

“Yes. You ask this why?” You ask. 

“F-forgive me but erm.. your husband, He was large dented metal armor, ugly, scruffy… he had his face scarred on the left.” She says. You nod. 

“Ser sandor clegane..” podrick says in a ‘oh shit’ sort of way 

“Why?” You ask a slight winge in your voice. 

“Your highness. While It was means to get lady Sansa’s sister back to her safety, we fought, hard, I was scared I wasn’t going to win, but I’d hit him with a rock and kicked him off the cliff…..I….I didn’t see him move at the bottom.” 

“What..” you voice strained as tears threaten your eyes.

“I-im sorry…you um…are you sure he was dead?” Sansa asks briskly. A lump forms in your throat  as she asks you wait for the impending answer. 

“Yes…i-“ before she can finish her apology you shortly gather your dress ends up with a whimper and hurry away from the others tears running down your cheeks as you run outside the gates as they open for other coming into the fort your hand clutching your stomach as you fall your knees sobbing into the snow.

“Y/n..y/n” Sansa says hurrying twords you kneeling to you pulling you into a hug as you sob in her arms.

“Shh-sh” she shushes as you sob in her arms. The pure thought of the love of your life your husband who’s reunion you’d been keeping up hope for was dead. All you had of him now was his child. He will never get to see his son or daughter. He will never get to see you.

Next chapter here

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[justinspoliticalcorner]

Donald Padgett at The Advocate:

Conservative pundit Candace Owens falsely claimed that Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky is a “homosexual actor” in a post to social media, adding it would be spiritually wrong for her to support a victory by Ukraine over Russia in a post to social media. Russia annexed parts of Ukraine in 2014, then invaded Ukraine in 2022. “No amount of media brainwash [sic] in the world could ever make me hope that Zelensky triumphs over an orthodox Russia,” Owens posted to social media on Dec. 3. “Spiritually, I just know that’s wrong. You simply do not support a homosexual actor that is locking up churches and bishops.” Zelensky is married to Olena Zelenska, has fathered a child, and has never identified as LGBTQ+, as was noted by one commenter. “Zelensky is married with kids and clearly loves his family. Putin on the other hand has a man crush on Steven Seagal and we don't even know his ‘family,’” one viewer posted. “Is Candace on the Kremlin payroll or is she just posting hate for clicks?”

[...] Ukraine has a mixed record on LGBTQ+ rights. While same-sex sexual relations are legal and employment discrimination based on sexual and gender identity is banned in the country, there are no housing protections or recognition of nonbinary or transgender identities. Russia is currently cracking down on its LGBTQ+ citizens with gay bars being raided by police in recent months.

Far-right pundit Candace Owens simps for Putin and Russia with a dash of homophobia by baselessly claiming that Ukrainian President Zelensky is a “homosexual actor.”

[marykk1990]

My next post in support of Ukraine is:

Next site, is another Ukrainian Olympian, Olena Dmytrivna Kostevych (Олена Дмитрівна Костевич). She is the 2004 Olympic champion of the 10-meter air pistol event. She is also the 2002 World Champion in the same event and the 2018 World Champion in the 25-meter pistol event. She's won the bronze medals in the 10-meter air pistol & the 25-meter pistol at the 2012 Olympics & a bronze medal for the 10-meter air pistol mixed team event at the 2020 Olympics. Here's an interview with her at the 2023 ISSF Shooting World Championships. While she was born in the soviet union in 1985, she eventually moved to her mother's home city of Chernihiv in Ukraine and attended Chernihiv State Technological University.

#StandWithUkraine

#СлаваУкраїні 🇺🇦🌻

[gothic-levi-arts]

My dumb interaction with a girl who just followed me home

Clear text:

So like you’re bisexual? So you’re open to any guys? So you ever kissed a girl right? A guy? You ever dated anyone? You still like Olena? Because I could y’know, set you up, because she is open to mingle. If you know your gender and you’re bisexual, how you lose virginity? Like are you transgender? I just wanna know like-

so context: This happened like almost an hour ago. I was just walking home from school and pass a girl who used to be in my theater class. She is friends with my current theater classmates (both are Russian kids from school), then she started following me home and tried talking to me and asking me questions. She also asked if I was dating my male best friend which made me uncomfortable (to which I didn’t write that part in the drawing). Her friend (my current classmate) tried stopping her. She even asked me about how do I even lose my virginity EVEN THOUGH IM 13 YEARS OLD. I told her I didn’t like Olena (A Russian girl I have a crush on). Hoping it will be the last of that girl but she didn’t stop slapping questions at me. I feel uncomfortable and scared for my life because of this girl as she now knows where I live because my current classmate (her friend) lives in the same apartment complex as me and knows my floor where I live, and I’m also scared as I fear getting hated, bullied, or worse just for being transgender or bisexual as she could tell the whole ass school about this. Also she told me she will ask me more tomorrow. AGHHHH

[dontforgetukraine]

A “little man” is the alpha and omega of the “great russian culture.” A little, despicable, cowardly, uncomplaining, gray, voiceless someone. Whatever and wherever they are, their ability to act is non-existent. A burly, deaf and mute Gerasim obediently drowns the only soul that loves him. Looking into his dog’s eyes, he wraps a rope around a brick, makes a loop, and ties it round his neck… He betrays his dog and kills him. He could have taken him somewhere, sold him or given him away. He could have tied the dog to a tree in the forest and visited him every day, feeding and loving him. But no. Gerasim is a little man. He is too weak to resist the circumstances. But he is strong enough to kill. A “trembling creature,” Raskolnikov decided to measure his largess and height with murder. A murder out of curiosity. He is a little man who believes that he has to kill another person to grow bigger. A little man is an unknown soldier, a nameless hero, a missing warrior. Their name is legion. And they don’t have a name, at the same time, being fused together into the body of a machine that either devours or kills. For many decades, the “great russian culture” has been trying to make the world choke on its tears over the destiny of people who trembled with fear, doubt, and helplessness and committed crimes, unable to resist them.   When the war broke out, my older children’s landlords called them and said, “Well, now that this happened, you can pay only for utilities, if you can afford it. It’s alright if you don’t pay the rent. We’re good people, after all.” I wouldn’t call them good people before the war. The landlords, a mother and daughter, were “half-Vatniks.” * Lots of people like them lived in Kyiv back in the day. Their opinion about what moscovia did in 2014 fit the pattern of “it’s not so straightforward,” “we’re brotherly nations, after all,” and “we have no power over anything.” I am not sure if their opinion has changed now that the “brotherly nation” is skinning people alive out of curiosity or helplessness. I hope it has. But even if it hasn’t. They called us to clarify what kind of people they were. Between the “little” (those who don’t decide anything) and the “good” (those capable of doing something), they chose the latter. Ever since the war started, I have been using the crime series — about riot squads, police departments, and private detectives — as my sleeping pills. They lull me into confidence that good really wins over evil. They drew my attention to the fact that even the most cruel maniacs put the guns down; the filthiest bastards willingly cooperate with the investigation; and the most corrupt police officers admit their treason and often shield their colleagues from bullets to remain — at least for a little bit — good people. “Are you a good person?” — this question, a key one in the negotiations with the criminals, creates a completely different mirror in which the civilization is looking. Not a nameless soldier, but Private Ryan who has to be saved, for he is his mother’s sole surviving son. “Am I a good person?” is a question that teenagers and seniors, the rich and the poor, men and women keep asking. What’s more, even zombies from apocalyptic movies say, “I’m a good person,” refusing to bite a child. This is the difference. The war between “the little” and “the good.” The ruthless, cruel, mindless, unscrupulous, filthy little people — and the good people. If the civilization shaped around the question “Am I a good person?” loses, Gerasim will consistently drown dogs, and Raskolnikov will methodically kill old people. A new Z-swastika, sanctified by the “great russian culture,” will leave no chance for anything human. Anywhere in the world. White Fang will never find its Weedon Scott, and Private Ryan will be buried, unrecognized, in a mass grave.

From the flash essay "Olena Stiazhkina: Kyiv. March 23" from the collection “Wars. Ukrainians. Humanity”.

Source: Oksana Stomina, Olena Stiazhkina, Taras Prokhasko, Valerii Pekar, Mychailo Wynnyckyj — March 22-26, 2022

[harrietwritesstuff]

I can't find the fluff snippet ;;

The overworked husband that is simply not fine anymore, the worried, protective wife, just the First Couple... how do you not worry about them? you can't

I finished it in the end, last night to try and occupy my brain - 2k words, just below the cut. A little soft, a little sad. ♡

“Oh sweetheart-”

He looks up at her dazedly and she swallows hard, his eyes bloodshot and unfocused. Her heart aches for him, for the way he clings so grimly, determinedly to consciousness and coherency - the gravelly voiceover to a video all he could manage this particular evening. She had watched from the sidelines by the door, counting each take he’d attempted, each video growing progressively slower, fainter - his features stripped of the little colour he had by the harsh lights. Eventually, he’d given up on the visual, letting his phone slip from his grip onto the desk, forcing himself through a voiceover instead, his eyes half closed, uttering the words from memory.

He blinks at her now, her presence not seeming to register somehow - as though he's faintly aware that perhaps all this is in his head. That she's not really there. Maks had sent for her; more a request than anything, and she’d been glad of it, the worry that stained his voice despite its steadiness had been the same worry that had stalked her own thoughts after the last three evening addresses. The chance to see him had leapt out at her, the chance to help him, to let him rest. She’d grabbed onto it with both hands, treasuring any excuse to see him, even this moment, shadowed by concern.

Now, Olena reaches out and gently rests her palm against his cheek, feeling him lean into her slightly. His breath comes as more of a slow rasp through his chest this time, a low whistling noise attached to it. She rubs her thumb gently against his cheekbone.

“You've done enough for today. Come on-” “Mmmn. No-” His denial is quiet though not surprising, the word a slow, eked out drawl. Olena frowns. Even if he was well, it's long past eleven at night; she'd struggle to even figure out if any of their international partners are even awake. There's nothing else he needs to do, despite his words, all the thoughts that circle endlessly in his head.

Regardless, she continues on. “You're not well.” “Mmfine-”

She almost bites down on her tongue, but as she looks at her husband, she cannot swallow her words, not this time. She knows he’d prefer to work through whatever ails him, to ignore it for as long as possible, but she won’t let him, not this time, not after almost a thousand days - of this office, of his tiny little bedroom, of the wailing sirens. She knows how little he’s been sleeping, how much the worry is wearing him out, no matter how many times he brushes off her concern and Maksym’s too - with a quiet ‘I’m fine.’

“Really, love. You’re not.” Her voice is gentle as she runs a hand through his hair.

“Just jetlag-”

For a moment, he reminds her of Kyrylo, the frown on his face his embittered response to being forced to confront his own frailty much like the same one her son wears at similar moments of annoyance. She can’t help but smile at him affectionately, pressing a kiss to his forehead. The low heat of fever brushes against her lips and she bites down a sigh, pulling away to offer out her hand. He takes it almost automatically, but makes no move to rise from his desk, content to sit with his hand in hers; as though it would be too much energy to do anything more.

“Come on-” she coaxes him gently up, waiting patiently as he finds his feet again, stretching out from his cramped position before the desk, scrabbling about loosely to pocket his phone. His movements are slow, almost clumsy and she feels a jolt of sympathy - for him to have held it together all day, throughout however many meetings or delegations, how much energy that alone must have taken.

Maksym doesn’t bat an eyelid, watching silently as Olena guides her husband across the office and over the threshold of his tiny room, closing the door behind them. She gently pushes him down onto the bed and tugs at the hem of his sweatshirt, encouraging him to lift his arms, almost as she might have done for their children when they were little.

“Mm. Very forward of you, Mrs Zelenska-”

She doesn’t laugh as his words devolve into coughing, sharp and grating. It leaves him breathless for a moment, his face screwed up in pain. Once it passes, he looks up at her, head on one side, his face so full of bare affection for her that suddenly, she is the one left breathless. Even in the softer light of this room, despite all the love he holds for her, exhaustion has left deep grooves in his face, his cheekbones more prominent than they used to be, his beard more grey. Her heart aches for him.

“Sorry-” He rubs hard at his eyes, leaving them red, watery.

He has nothing to apologise for; but that feels like a battle to be fought later. 

“Vova, love?”

“Mmhm?”

“Why don't you try and get some sleep?”

He nods vaguely, rubbing at his forehead, but makes no other move, as though suddenly everything is too much - the weight too heavy to carry any further. Olena quietly kneels, unlaces his boots, her slim fingers deftly untying the knots. She smiles faintly at the sight of his socks; a grey handknitted pair with blue and yellow stripes at the top, threadbare now at the heels - probably sent to him by someone months ago, now quietly treasured. She rubs lightly at the side of his ankle, an encouragement that he responds to on instinct, bringing his legs up as he turns onto his side, sliding down onto the bed, still fully clothed atop the covers, his face pressed into the thin pillow.

She presses a kiss to the top of his head, a small squeeze of his shoulder before leaving him be for the moment. She roots through his wardrobe, her goal to find a blanket or two, another pillow maybe. Her attention drifts across the row of black and green sweatshirts, a lone yellow hoodie at one end, a suit at the other, still hanging there- a persistent symbol of hope, of optimism. Without warning, tears spring forth - threatening to spill down her cheeks. She presses a hand to her mouth, turning away from Vova.

There are instances, moments- when this happens; when it overwhelms her.

Sometimes it's as simple as Kyrylo or Sasha mentioning offhand quietly that - papa looks tired, is he okay? Will he be safe? - because worry is not something that their children should have to carry; not like this. Other times it happens when she's surrounded by her own work, by her colleagues and friends - people she would never have met if not for this and she knows despite herself, her admiration for them and all the work they do - that she'd change knowing them in a heartbeat if she could go back to before. Sometimes, it's the insistent knowledge that this is their life now, and there is so much of it that she must be apart from him. That this is their life, and the moments they do share are so often shot through with grief or loss or mourning - for the past, their present, their people. She knows, at her heart; they are lucky in a way. They have one another no matter how far apart they are; they have their children and their family because there are some people who do not have that. The knowledge doesn't always make her own hurt easier to bear.

After a minute, she sucks in a shaky breath, filling her lungs until they burn, forcing the air back out in a rush as she rubs frantically at her eyes with the back of her hand. 

Blankets.

That's what she needs to find. She swallows, continues her search determinedly - the fruits of her labour revealing a thick, soft blanket folded away in a drawer, another at the top. She tucks them around her husband, watching fondly as he nestles into the warmth, wriggling deeper into the mattress.

“Thought you'd gone-” His words are drowsy, his eyelids heavy with sleep that he pushes against - each blink slower than the last as he peers at her in the lamplight, catching her hand in his. His palm is cold, and she can feel the small callouses at the base of his fingers, his skin rough.

“Never-” 

The word sticks in her mouth - It carries such a weight suddenly, unintended. That - she'll never leave him, no matter what. Still carefully gripping his hand, she kicks off her own shoes, and after a little manoeuvring, she manages to settle in with her back against the headboard, Vova curled beside her.

“Never-” She repeats it, softer- just for herself.

A little while later, Vova has drifted to sleep properly, snuffling quietly through the congestion in his chest and throat, cuddled into her side, his head in her lap. He’s so much softer here, smaller, so much more himself; just Vova, and not the President. She holds onto this moment with all her might, this slow quietness with no sharp edges.

The moment flickers, threatens to fade as the door swings open without warning, a small creak preceding any entrants. Olena frowns, one hand still on her husband’s shoulder, rubbing a slow, soothing pattern there. She opens her mouth to mutter some shred of annoyance, to ask whoever it is to leave.  Instead, she swallows it as she sees who it is - Maks, carrying a mug from the canteen.

She knows that he will not ask anything of her husband - just to rest, and for that, she loves him.

“Tea,” he mumbles softly, low enough not to disturb Vova, just loud enough for Olena to hear, the soft ‘thunk’ of the mug onto the bedside table. Steam rises from the hot tea, the liquid a strong, almost muddy brown.

“Painkillers-” he drops the sealed plastic packet beside the tea. “He mentioned a headache earlier. Two when he wakes- if he still needs them, then every four hours."

He leans over then, pockets Vova's phone from the bedside table.

“I'll pass this on, Andriy will cover tomorrow morning's meetings or calls. I'll be just outside if you need me.”

She nods mutely, a faint smile of thanks drifting across her face. What they'd do, any of them really - without Maks. Calm, solid, dependable. Always, somehow - knowing what's needed, before Vova does, before she's even thought of it herself. She watches his gaze flicker over Vova, his concern barely hidden, a hand minutely adjusting the blanket, then fiddling with the intensity of the lamplight until it's barely there - all three of them thrown into shadow. She catches his expression in the half-darkness, just for a moment before he steps away, his face so unguarded that it surprises her. 

Olena thinks about love - in all its forms. She thinks about Maksym, his tea and painkillers, his quiet, low voice, steadfast - always present.

“Thank you-”

He nods, says nothing as he gently places a hand on Vova's shoulder, just for a second or two, and then steps away. Her smile fades as Maks closes the door behind him with a soft click and she feels Vova move under her hand, shivering in his sleep, his hand grasping loosely, not finding purchase. She slips her hand into his.

“Sssh-” 

He stops shivering, a faint cough expelled on an exhale before he quietens again as her other hand runs through his hair, it's shorter now than it was before and softer - more grey. She feels the warm weight of him, the solidness of his body pressed against her and she is more thankful than she could ever say; for this moment.

He's beside her; that's all she needs, could ever want for now. Volodymyr sleeps on as the night deepens further, his weary bones too heavy this once to rise, to continue. Olena stays beside him; always, her hand in his.

[the-jam-to-the-unicorn]

The most famous man in the world

[star-art-diaries]

🏳️‍🌈 for Lucía?

I NEED YOU TO KNOW THAT I SCREAMED WHEN I GOT THIS ASK. Get ready for micro labeling because I was reading too much queer theory when creating Lucía

OCs :

Lucía Bolton: Bisexual-ace lesbian. She doesn't care about sex, at all. Zero sex drive to talk about, but sure, she'll fuck anyone, usually out of boredoom. Now, relationships are more complicated. Lucía almost exclusively feels romantic atraction for women or people with woman-adjacent genders, altough she has had like. Two exceptions in her whole life. Surprisingly chill with her own sexuality

Maaele Lannister: Gay. Way too repressed to even kiss a guy while sober or call himself something else than straight, but he's only into men. His only premarital sexual experience was that one time he payed a male prostitute to blow him and it still is eating away at him

Alexander Tyrell: Genderqueer/Transfem lesbian. Alex's strange relationship with gender makes his sexuality hard to pinpoint, she's walking the line between genderless and too much gender. But she's only into women. Honestly his gender is something I could write a whole post on

Elizabetta Bolton: Straight, maybe aromantic. There's not much to Eliza's sexuality, other than to point out the fact that she's always crushing on people she can't have and the second she has them she no longer likes them

Sammuel Snow: Gay, demisexual and demiromantic. He's so into his husband it's not even funny. Not many more notes other than that. Literally the most chill of Boltons.

Ateneya Bolton: Aromantic. That woman isn't into anyone ever. She probably gagged at the idea of marriage. She probably still does.

Cannon characters :

Roose Bolton: Straight. Not much more to say about him. He seems happy with fat Walda… as happy as Roose can be without starting to bleed himself.

Ramsay Bolton: Unlabeled. HEAR ME OUT. He's a sadist, and I don't think he gives two fucks what's the gender of his torturee. He jerks off to their pain all the same

Rob Stark: Bisexual. Sadly, he doesn't know that. Yes, I'm talking about him a Theon's weird fucking thing (/aff)

Tywin Lannister: Bisexual. Look, I stand with lady Olena in this one. No fucking way you never ever fucked some guy, specially not with that gaydar . SIR, ure clocking them left and right

[harri-etvane]

Title: morning coffee Pairing: idk? Maks/Vova/Lena if you squint Summary: Volodymyr, Olena and Maksym share a morning coffee in the sunshine Word count: 1k-ish

Yawning, Volodymyr rolls over, one hand searching for a familiar, warm presence, keen to shuffle back into sleep even as morning makes itself known. Eyes still closed, patting the mattress insistently yields nothing, and as he opens his eyes begrudgingly, he finds the other side of the bed empty and bright morning sunlight streaming in through the windows of their cabin. For a moment, he's content to lie there in the warmth, the quiet - relishing in it.

It still feels strange, intransient; as though if he makes one wrong move everything will vanish. This peace is more beautiful than anything he's ever known and it feels like a fairytale. He exhales slowly.

Idly, his eyelids still heavy, he watches a few dust motes dance in the sunbeams that blanket the room in gold, his thoughts drifting without consequence from one idea to the next - the day full of untold promise. They could swim, cycle, or fish. They could go for a walk, run or ride. They could read or cook or just sit and do absolutely nothing. It is still something of a novelty; there are no five am wakeup calls, no six am meetings. There is no endless barrage of relentlessly horrible news that he must confront, no-one to console or mourn. Just this - a cosy, quiet cabin in the Carpathians where nothing is needed from him, except perhaps to decide what he would prefer for dinner.

He notices a folded piece of paper propped on the nightstand. Unwilling just now to peel himself out of bed, he instead leans over to unfold it and read the contents, rubbing at his eyes, wakefulness slowly descending on him as he shuffles into a sitting position against the headboard.

On the porch with coffee. Come join us x

He considers the words for a little while, stretching luxuriously until he can feel his shoulders crack gently, all the tension gone from him now. He is still getting used to this, to a body that does not ache with exhaustion. In the beginning, it had felt so strange, to be without the ever present tension that thrummed through each muscle, the absence startling. He had forgotten what it felt like; to not hurt, to just be at rest, to be still. 

Eventually, coffee is enough of a lure in and of itself, alongside company, to have him finally tip himself out of bed, shoving on a too-large sweatshirt and some socks as he shuffles across the sun-warmed floorboards. The cabin is quiet, almost as though the building too is at rest, waking up at the same time as he. The sound of the birds filters through the windows, bright and joyous. He pads through the corridors, quiet, as though surely - this can’t really be for him. He wonders if it will ever feel real, if the fact that this, for now at least - is his life. There are no more hours to be spent in the harshly lit situation room, or the dark misery of a bunker. No longer hurtling from one emergency to the next, from speech to press conference to interview, his whole self filled with adrenaline and anger at the pain of his people.

Just this place, here -  in the golden sunlight.

He pushes open the door, met with all the warmth of the smiles of both Olena and Maksym as they turn toward him.

“Morning sleepyhead-” Olena steps towards Vova, pulling him towards her and pressing a kiss to his cheek, taking a second to relish the warm softness of him, here, just beside her. He will not be pulled away by work, by war and all its chaos this time. They can have this - these shining moments. 

“Took you long enough-”

Their joking is affectionate, Maksym with one arm open, beckoning him forward. Automatically, Vova pads forward and leans against his side as they look out over the mountains from the porch at the front of their cabin. Another quiet exhale leaves him, his eyes closing for a moment. Unseen, Maksym and Olena share a glance at one another, the bare warmth evident in both their faces for Vova could rival the sun. For all it feels as though a  weight has left him, it has left the both of them too. They are no longer quite so terrified for him - no longer filled with the inescapable dread that a frontline trip to Kursk or Donetsk might be his last, no longer gripped by the relentless anxiety that one day something might happen to him and he would go from them.

He is here, with them.

“The note mentioned coffee-” he looks at them both, all soulful eyes - not quite pouting but close to it. It’s easy to see how persuasive he must have been in meetings with their partners; all that charisma, that sweetness; seemingly for them alone. This time however, Olena rolls her eyes and Maksym elbows him in the ribs gently, both of them almost entirely immune now to his tactics.

“Get it yourself- I’m not running around after you anymore-”

“What happened to I swear to serve?”

“The Ukrainian nation, Vova. Not you specifically-”

“You mean I’m not important to you?”

“You are. Terribly important. Doesn’t mean you can’t get your own coffee-”

Vova grumbles something that sounds suspiciously like ‘traitor’ at Maks before he looks hopefully at Olena, who blinks at him innocently.

“What? I didn’t take any oaths to the Ukrainian nation so don’t start that-”

“You did swear to love and to cherish, forever might I add… so surely that counts, no?..”

She can’t keep a straight face for much longer and she laughs sweetly, handing over a mug of coffee. It’s piping hot, steam still rising from the dark brown liquid and he beams at her in thanks.

The three of them stand in the quiet, the only noise about them is the call of the birds in the trees, the endlessly blue sky stretching out above them without pause. 

[hbfmguy2]

To Russia With Love, Part 23

“So yes, officer, when this horrible man invited us to his hotel, Elena and I thought it was to discuss career opportunities!” Kateryna explained to Captain Olga Dubrovna, head of the local rapid response anti-drugs Moscow police unit, all wide blue-eyed innocence, “but we soon realised they simply wanted Elena and I to be drugs mules. When we refused we were luckily able to turn the tables on them!”

“Luckily?” smiled Olga looking at the state of the four captives dubiously. “We did serve in the military before joining Aeroflot.” Olena added hurriedly. “And you will find our guards at the Lotte Hotel in their rooms a little, er, incapacitated too!” Olga beamed. “We have been after Sergei Borisov and his cronies for some time, ladies.” she said. “You have served Russia well.” Kateryna nodded in acknowledgement, a mysterious smile passing across her own lips. “Can we leave everything in your capable hands now, Captain?” she asked. “We have urgent business in Kabinka before our return flight.” Olga smiled again. “Of course! If we need to contact you again, we will find you through Aeroflot, I assume?” Kateryna blushed slightly. “Yes, Captain.” she replied. Olena’s phone pinged. “Taxi’s here, Katina.” she said simply.

With that the two Ukrainian operatives were gone, while Borisov “Mmmmmphed” urgently at the policewoman through his gag. “Your high-powered friends won’t help you now, Sergei.” Olga said, looking down at the gangster with a grin. “You are on your own.”

Two days later the Ukrainian government reported on the destruction of a large illegal Iranian drone shipment deep in Russian territory and praised the unnamed agents responsible. The same day Moscow police reported on the dismantling of the Borisov drugs and extortion operation, with a plea for two Aeroflot air stewardesses to come forward and claim the reward which was their due for their help in the capture of Borisov and his lieutenants. They never did.

THE END

[thezeinterviews]

L'Express: Olena Zelenska, First Lady of Ukraine: "Don't forget us!"

The wife of President Volodymyr Zelensky reminds us that the Russian-led war is still raging throughout her country.

Propos recueillis par Eric Chol et Charles Haquet

Publié le 08/11/2023 à 10:57

She doesn't dress in khaki like her husband, Volodymyr Zelensky, but she too is on the front line defending her country. On November 8 and 9, Olena Zelenska is in Paris to inaugurate a Ukrainian cultural institute and raise funds for her humanitarian foundation. While the world's attention is focused on the Israeli-Palestinian war, and the Middle East is on the brink of explosion, the First Lady sends this powerful message to L'Express: "Don't forget Ukraine!" And let's not turn away from the soldiers fighting in the trenches of Bakhmut and Robotyne. Because their freedom is our freedom too. And Vladimir Putin will not stop at the borders of the former Soviet Republic. "The nature of an empire is to expand," she stresses. "It only stops if you stop it."

As one war drives out another, the mistake would be to consider that we cannot hold two fronts at the same time. And to admit that opinions "only have room in their intelligence and emotion for one conflict", in the words of philosopher Bernard-Henri Levy, co-author of a remarkable film on the Russian-Ukrainian conflict.

In Washington, the most radical Republicans, unconvinced by the Ukrainian counter-offensive, want to dissociate the aid given to Israel and Kiev. All the better to torpedo the latter. As US President Joe Biden says, Hamas and the Kremlin share the same goal: "to annihilate a neighboring democracy". Who, then, to favor? In reality, our only option is not to choose.

L'Express: Almost two years of war in Ukraine, a frozen front, a Russian army stepping up its bombing: how are the Ukrainians doing?

Olena Zelenska: It's a very difficult life. You'd think we'd get used to this stress, this constant upheaval, but that's not possible! A month ago, we experienced a great tragedy with the bombing of Hroza, in the Kharkiv region, where a Russian missile killed almost a third of the village's inhabitants. Imagine a funeral in every house… To top it all off, these people were gathered to attend a funeral, so it's the deaths that lead to other deaths, individual deaths, collective deaths. On October 21, the whole of Ukraine was shaken by the destruction of a postal sorting center in Kharkiv. Six employees working in the depot were killed. Some people abroad, and even here at home, sometimes imagine that there is a part of Ukraine where there is no war, where life is in full swing, where everything is going well. But this is not true! Because no matter where you are in the country, you can never be sure of being safe, of waking up the next day, of being able to go to work… The forecast horizon for Ukrainians has become very short. But we must continue to live, to develop, to rebuild, to raise our children. We must learn to plan each day, to adopt strategies, even if they may not be implemented. To my mind, it's a way of life, with the hope of victory on one side, which will come quickly, and on the other the constant trials that bring us down, but from which we have to get up every time.

As a frequent traveler in Ukraine, what is the story that has struck you most in recent weeks?

To tell the truth, I'd like to travel more in my country to meet the people who have suffered the most, but unfortunately this isn't always possible. Every discussion with my compatriots leaves a new imprint on my emotions. Let me tell you what has always impressed me. As part of my foundation's work, I meet regularly with foster families who take in children, most of them orphans, and these families are often made up of internally displaced people. They have fled occupied, bombed-out regions to settle in other parts of Ukraine. Unfortunately, in most cases, this is not the first time these families have fled: back in 2014, they had to leave the Donetsk region. Today, they have to leave their homes once again. Imagine their emotions! We're dealing with families who are constantly forced to flee the war, but it keeps catching up with them. To tell you the truth, I can't imagine how anyone can survive in this situation, how anyone can live when they're being chased by war. Because it's not a tsunami or a forest fire that forces them to leave: those who target them are people who come to kill, and that's what's so frightening!

Since the Hamas attack on Israel on October 7, all eyes have been on the Middle East. Do you fear that the world is turning its attention away from Ukraine?

First of all, I'd like to say that, like everyone else, we feel very strongly about what's happening in Israel, and we share the suffering of the Israeli people. We watched this terrorist attack by Hamas with great horror, but without surprise. It proves once again what we have been saying since the beginning of the war: if aggression is not stopped, it will continue in different forms and in different parts of the world. But we are not protected by the arrival of another tragedy, and that doesn't mean that the one in Ukraine has gone away. In fact, this war in the Middle East is only making the current tragic situation worse.

It is precisely for this reason that we hope the world will see how reacting slowly to tragedy only reinforces the desire of other aggressors to act. Impunity gives carte blanche! Particularly to those who have forces lined up behind them, enough financial and military resources around the world, and who feel that the time has come to act as they please, because they can. Unfortunately, this is the truth, which is why it's important to react quickly to all these aggressions, and not to each one separately, because they're all linked.

What is your message on this subject to the West, and in particular to France, where you have just arrived?

As I just said, it's vital not to let the world's attention wander away from Ukraine. We are already seeing that military aid to our country is arriving too slowly to bring about positive change on the front line. It's too slow, too quiet. It seems that Europe remains placid, and doesn't seem too frightened by the prospect of Russia's borders closing in on it. Yet this prospect is very real! Let's think about what would happen if Ukraine hadn't held out. In our place would be Russia, and hundreds of kilometers closer to you, to your homes. I wouldn't want other people in Europe, other mothers in Europe, to be afraid, not just of the possibility of Russian attacks, but of the physical sensation of that danger. Today, we are the barrier against this Russian advance. As long as we hold out, there's a chance they won't advance. But the empire won't stop if we don't stop it. Its nature is such that it must constantly expand. Otherwise, it ceases to be an empire! It's always looking to expand, and today, it's on our account. That's why we keep repeating that Ukraine defends the interests of the whole of Europe. Let's not forget that, and let's do things together!

You speak of a Europe that is too calm. How can we make sure it doesn't forget Ukraine?

We mustn't let it fall asleep! We often see this scene in the movies, of a person who's too cold, starts to freeze and falls asleep. If you don't want that person to die, you have to prevent them from falling asleep. I think the current situation is comparable: this sleep is dangerous for Europe. We can't fall asleep, we can't let Europe close its eyes today. I very much hope that my visit to France will serve as a reminder that the danger is still there. It is hanging over us now, and if we do nothing, it will unfortunately fall on your heads. I hope we can stop it.

During a recent visit to Washington, you said that the Russians wanted to destroy Ukrainian culture. As we know, war is fought in the trenches, but also on the cultural front. What can be done to counter the Russian narrative?

For a long time, Ukrainian artists and our country's cultural values and wealth were considered Russian by the rest of the world. Belonging to the Russian empire automatically made an artist Russian, which is not true. Today, our aim is to restore the place of this cultural heritage and tell the world what it really represents. I imagine that most French people don't always understand the boundary between Russian and Ukrainian. Many Ukrainian works around the world are still considered Russian. Take, for example, the dancers by French painter Edgar Degas. For many years, a painting was titled Russian Dancers. It was only recently that the National Gallery in London, then the Metropolitan Museum of Art in the USA, renamed it Ukrainian Dancers. The girls depicted are indeed groups of dancers in Ukrainian dress.

It's an example of the cultural battle we have to wage, even though we clearly don't have the means to devote so much money or administrative effort to beating Russian propaganda. We just can't. But we have to start disseminating more information about Ukraine in order to push back Russian lies. That's why I'm taking part in the inauguration of the Ukrainian Institute in Paris on November 9. This institute, the second to be opened abroad after Berlin a few months ago, is taking up residence at the Gaîté Lyrique in the heart of Paris. Its mission will be to disseminate knowledge about Ukraine and promote our culture throughout the world. Obviously, this work cannot be carried out solely from Ukraine - that would be too difficult. This is why this Parisian institute will be able to host artists' residencies and provide them with support, with the aim of creating cultural encounters and cross-cultural events, and strengthening cooperation with French cultural and scientific institutions. This will strengthen our ties and ensure that Russian stories are transformed and become Ukrainian stories.

Destroying Ukrainian culture also means stealing its future, in other words, its children. Several thousand of them have been deported to Russia: how can we get them back?

More than 19,600 Ukrainian children have been taken to Russia, according to our social services. It's a tragedy. I'm thinking in particular of this father from Marioupol, imprisoned by the Russians, whose three children were kidnapped. When he was released, he looked for them everywhere, he was desperate. Until one day, his son called him. He was in Russia and told him he was going to be adopted.

The longer the children stay in Russia, the deeper the psychological impact. The 380 children we were able to bring back to Ukraine all tell of the same ordeal. When they arrive in Russia, they are subjected to a patriotic education. They must learn to love their new homeland. To do this, they must be convinced that they have been abandoned and that no one is looking for them. It's real mental torture.

Unfortunately, there is no official way of getting them back. The Russians don't want to hear about it, they won't answer our questions. Our only recourse is action by the international community. At the last UN General Assembly, I proposed the creation of a mechanism that would at least enable us to establish a dialogue with the Russians, via a third country for example. For us, it's a question of making sure that these children are all right and that they can return home. As soon as possible.

You're very committed to the subject of mental health. What is the psychological state of Ukrainians after more than six hundred days of war?

Ukrainians are suffering from two types of illness. Firstly, there are those who feel fear, uncertainty and the inability to plan ahead. They have loved ones at the front who could be killed every day and every night. It's a constant source of anxiety. Our all-Ukrainian mental health program is working on this, with an emphasis on education. People need to understand what they're suffering from and know that they can be treated. Then, we need to deploy services that enable them to quickly get in touch with specialists, close to their home or workplace, free of charge.

And then there are the victims of post-traumatic syndromes - both military and civilian. They all benefit from adapted programs, including children, who are not always able to ask for help. We need to raise awareness among parents, who are sometimes reluctant to alert the relevant services. For example, the manager of a new rehabilitation program for traumatized children told me that their parents refused to let them go to a therapeutic camp, because they didn't understand how it could help them. We need to break this taboo.

Speaking of children, how are yours coping with this situation? What words do you use to reassure them? And how do they see the future?

The worst thing for us is not being able to make plans. We live from day to day, hoping for tomorrow. I have two children. My eldest daughter is 19, so she can already be considered an adult. She's at university. Half the courses are online, but she goes there from time to time, which is very good for her socialization. It allows her to make plans for the week ahead, it gives her a rhythm to her life and forces her to move forward. My youngest son is 10, and can go to school because the school has an air-raid shelter. This means he can attend certain classes face-to-face, have friends and communicate with them. It's a real blessing.

But when my children ask me, "When will we go to the seaside on vacation?", I can only reply, "Not now, but let's think together about what we'll do after the victory." This way of putting off all pleasant things until later, of not being able to give a date, obviously limits children in their dreams, in their projects. And it's the same for all the country's children. Youth is a time of dreams, and dreams should know no boundaries. Unfortunately, our children's dreams have limits, and these cannot be exceeded.

In 2022, you set up a foundation dedicated to humanitarian aid, health and education. What are the first results?

A positive one. In Izium, we are restoring the hospital, half of which had been destroyed and looted by the Russians. We have started work on the most critical unit, the four operating rooms. We now need to continue its reconstruction. Another priority is helping large adoptive families. Many of them are displaced persons who no longer have a home, and it is very difficult to find them a new one. Our project will enable us to build 14 apartment blocks for these families. The first residences will be available in December, the others in the spring. After that, we hope to build more. The need is great: at least 80 large adoptive families have lost their homes because of the war.

Secondly, we are trying to support our education system in the regions near the front. Our children and teachers need resources such as tablets and laptops. It's difficult to get materials to them because of the security situation. Last month, a Russian missile hit a school in Nikopol, southwest of Dnipro. The buildings were destroyed. We thought the laptops, donated by the United Arab Emirates, were lost. But when we cleared away the rubble, we realized that they were intact. We were able to deliver the laptops to the students, so that they could prepare to enter university and continue their studies. In one year, the foundation handed out almost 50,000 devices to children and teachers. Access to education, even in wartime, is a key issue.

And then there's the problem of bombing. In Ukraine, one school in seven can no longer accommodate children because it has no air-raid shelter to protect them in the event of an air raid. We are therefore building shelters in six schools and one kindergarten in the Chernihiv, Poltava, Dnipro and Kirovograd regions, and we plan to implement similar projects in other parts of Ukraine.

Finally, there's humanitarian aid. We are helping those most affected, especially those living in the Kharkiv and Kherson regions. When the Russians targeted our energy system last year, we supplied these people with dozens of electric generators. People were living in half-destroyed houses, with no heating, no electricity. They were suffering. We helped them heat their homes and provided them with basic necessities. We're preparing to do the same thing this year, because unfortunately there's no hope of Russia abandoning its destructive plans against our energy system.

How has the war changed you and your husband?

I feel as if the year and a half we've just lived through counts as ten years… It's been an extremely emotionally draining time. I hope that this ordeal won't change us forever, and that it won't prevent us from looking to the future with optimism.

Afterwards, knowing how I've changed, how my husband has changed… I think we'll be able to answer that question in several years' time, when we'll be able to take a cold look at all this madness. For the moment, it's not possible.

Article

[megarywrites]

Smile, flute and, yes, wildcard for the bard ask game? ^^

thank youuuu

smile | share a funny snippet or a fun fact about your world?

okay 1) I think this is funny so I'm sorry if it's not lol and 2) for context, this bit I'm sharing is taken from Thala's reenactment of somewhat that had happened to her and Astri that day when they were in the capitol that day (this is something that I was wanting to establish with this draft—Thala's proclivity for story-telling. It's laying the groundwork for later on when she needs it for plot reasons)

“Alright, so—“ I started off as Astri took her place behind me, adopting the same playful lilt that Pa used to whenever he began to tell one of his tall tales. “There we were coming up to the bridge to head further into…”  ”Ateolis!” Astri supplied excitedly, then shrank back with a giggle at my quelling look.  “Yes, Ateolis.” I said with a heavy sigh and she giggled again, and I struggled not to grin as I pressed on. “And this cart driver—a man, of course—“ Solera said it along with me, and I lost the struggle with my smile, but only for a second. “He didn’t stop. Astri, be the driver.”  “Wha…” I gestured over to the door. “Oh, right.”  She darted over, and I pressed up against the imaginary banister behind me as Astri, who was holding her arms stiffly out at her sides, making herself bigger as she tottered toward me. “And then this gentleman over here,” I said, straining my voice as if I were a much older person, which I quickly dropped to add, “Wait, I’ll just show you.”  I motioned for Astri to keep coming towards me, and when she did, I lightly smacked her shoulder, then balled my hand into a fist and shook it at her, putting on the older man’s voice again as I said, “Your head is stuffed so full with chum and piss that I can’t believe it’s not spilling out your fucking ears!” Solera burst out laughing—a delighted, high-pitched cackle—Olena almost choked on the sip of tea she was drinking, and Zoi grinned as if she were taking notes to use it for another occasion. Several of the other girls behind me laughed as well, interspersed with scandalized gasps at the strong language.  But I wasn’t done.  As Astri turned back to me, mimicking the rude gesture the cart driver had made and starting another round of surprised laughter, I continued. “I pray the gods smite you just for breathing, you wretched little shit!” I finished the curse with spitting force, then looked back at Solera and Olena, doing a double-take just like the man had when he noticed us across the bridge. I let my eyes widen in his horrified surprise.  His apologies tripped over themselves on their way out of my mouth, becoming increasingly more dramatic as Solera clutched at her stomach, her head thrown back as she leaned against the table for support, lost as she was in the throes of mirth. Olena and Zoi were doubled over, too, and Astri, breathless and rosy-cheeked from laughing, sank back into her place on the bench beside Olena.  “That’s basically what happened,” I said, my voice returning to normal as I grinned at them. My attention settled on Solera, who was wiping tears from her eyes with a clipped but happy sigh.

flute | can any of your OCs dance? how would they fare in a dance-off?

yes! dancing is something that happens fairly frequently in this story/Grean culture! so basically everyone can dance to some degree, and Thala really enjoys it. The last time she danced was at her birthday party, but she'll be doing some more soon in the first part of TUS

wildcard | share anything that's on your mind regarding your OCs/writing?

something that I was thinking about today when I was at work was how pleased I am with how Thalera's relationship is showing up on the page. Which, I know, is something I've mentioned sorta often during this rewrite, but it's just really nice to see their connection come to life on the page. I know I'm very biased here lol but I think they're a really good team, and their bond is so sweet to write, especially in a story like this. I'm really looking forward to how things continue to progress, because it just keeps getting better with each new scene that they're together

send me bard-themed asks?

[marykk1990]

I made pretty much the same сніданок as yesterday, with the addition of a hashbrown. Poached eggs on a hashbrown with cheddar cheese & cremini mushrooms. & I'm having coffee with both Volodymyr & Olena this morning. #StandWithUkraine #СлаваУкраїні

Just a heads-up, I only eat this way on the weekends & holidays. Work days are usually non-fat cottage cheese topped with fresh berries, especially raspberries 😋, and a couple of tablespoons of granola.