#yes we can read and listen to portuguese and understand it

[trabandovidas]

I love how Uruguayans are all like "ugh i can't understand shit in portuguese, i can't even form a proper sentence" and Brazilians are like "ugh i can't understand shit in spanish, i can't even form a proper sentence", and that is both said with frustration and the fucking deep desire to speak the other's language

But then you have this annual happening ?? where we go and take university level (!!!) classes in the other's language, and go to talks and academic conferences given entirely in the other's language and we go to the other's country and give them conferences in our language and we are all like, "ugh, ah, fuck, i can't speak shit in portuguese/ spanish, i'm so sorry i can't even form a proper sentence, I don't wish to inconvenience you, i just. can't :(" and the other one is all like "ye, ye, ye, don't worry, you just speak in your tongue, i can understand you, don't worry, i can't speak spanish/portuguese either, i don't even understand shit of it either. But i completely understand you giving me this university level class tho!, yeah no problem <3" like ???? sir???

[sgiandubh]

Show must go on...

... and rather very much in your face, mind you.

Scottish Xena posted two stories at about 7 AM, counting calories, and, in the process, making sure to address roughly any objections that were ventilated on this side of the fandom, including this very page. See for yourself...

What are the odds she'd be talking about nutrition? Right. I am not an idiot. I know when something is way Over The Top - less is more, Xena. Less is always more: there was no need to overdo it like that, placemat and all, if you wanted to remain credible. You read us and you have been instructed to do so, just to perfectly stick to your walking, talking and very profitable Local Innuendo script.

Fair enough. And then, you also tell us that you will be at Hyrox today around noon, to film some ESN promo: your bread and butter, of course. S is just for shits, giggles and that Instagram yield:

So, there's that. *urv connecting dots like crazy, without having the slightest clue of what was discussed at that table. Her own brand of cheap fanfic for the masses, for the other five clowns commenting, out of which three at least are her own sock accounts.

Cue in the Useful Idiot. The Brazilian Tourist and Fan. Uma senhorita tão desagradável, who changed her story in between her first reaction reel and the debrief, back at her suburban Airbnb or where the fuck that was filmed.

First reaction reels:

'Just saw SH.' Not alone, oh no: 'com uma moça'. With a girl. So yeah, she had qualms asking for a pic.

First lie and dramatization. She posts a message for S where she explains she did not dare approach him, but she saw him alright. The one in Portuguese is completely different, though: 'I am going to post the video without sound, because I could only say "what a shame", while I was filming him on the sly. LOL.' I guess she thinks we are all idiots, or something. Also, in her reel, she confirms: 'ele estava almoçando com outra pessoa'/he was having lunch with another person. So far, so good, right?

Six hours later, a second debrief batch of reels, taking her reader's questions. The narrative changes, with a strong bias:

'Yes, he is super accessible and educated! I did not freak out, I just politely asked to take a pic (what I do consider the right way to approach famous people, at the end they are still human beings).'

For the people in the back: she is a lady. And a liar. The worst kind of liar, actually: a narcissistic one. Let's see what else she takes great pains telling us: 'ele tem um fandom bem tóxico'/he has a very toxic fandom. From now on, we just know what to expect, right?

Second answer, she explains he is very tall. He went inside to pay the bill and then he also went towards the bathroom (wtf?), she followed him inside, she asked for the menu, he finally went out and she approached him ('abordei' - 🙄) between the door and her table. Classy.

Cue in to a third answer (and second lie) to a very odd question: 'what did he smell like?' or something along those lines. For this one, I had to ask confirmation from Shipper Mom, who told me two things (she knew next to nothing about the whole episode- no bias): ' it's damn hard to understand what the hell she is talking about, she is eating half of her words. Plus you can tell she is lying.'

He doesn't smell, she tells us. But hey, she also freaked out a bit, finally (I thought she hadn't?!) and then well, 'ele estava com outra pessoa, uma moça, deve ser a namorada dele'/ he was with another person, a girl, probably his girlfriend'. But then he went inside (again? wasn't he coming out of the venue?), 'and the girl stayed at the table'. Things go murky afterwards, like they absolutely always do: she tells us she spoke to her (?), but would not say anything more, yet making sure to tell us she 'saw both of them'.

If anyone has a better version than mine, please step forward: we listened three times in a row, with Shipper Mom, a teacher of Portuguese and published literary translator. She was appalled by this young woman's carelessness and mendacity.

The Brazilian Tourist Fan is 23 years old (and it shows), she presents herself as a journalist and writer:

Seriously? What are the odds?

And finally, to wrap it up, the classical cheering moment, at yesterday's Hyrox: ' yeah, Sarah, nice!'

Nice, indeed.

FFS. Will it ever end?

Yes, it will. Anything ends: even Stalin's terror.

[mah-t-wordblog]

hello! If requests are open, can you write lee!muichiro and ler!kotetsu + ler!kanamori please? their new friendship is just too cute ^.^ thank you, have a nice day!

Hiiii! Ofc 💛✨

Make you smile

Lee: Muichiro Tokito

Ler: Kotetsu, Kanamori

❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜❤️🧡

Ships: NONE

Warnings: This is a tickle fic, if you don’t like it, just scroll down

This fanfic is originally in Portuguese, my English is translated using an automatic translator, if there are any big errors you can tell me so I can fix them

❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜❤️🧡

Muichiro and Kotetsu were sitting in a room alone, Mr. Kanamori was preparing some tea for them to drink, along with some onigiri

“It smells so~ good~” Kotetsu said

Muichiro agreed

“It must be delicious”

Muichiro looked behind the window in front of him, for some reason he lost sight of it, thinking about the birds

“Tokito?” Kotetsu called him

But it was ignored

“Tokito?” He tried again

But Muichiro wasn't listening

“TOKITO!” Kotetsu got angry and jumped on top of the other to see if he noticed him.

“Oh! I'm sorry, I got lost, I can't remember the name of that bird.”

Kotetsu looked out the window too

“There are no birds”

“He already flew, of course” Muichiro said indifferently

Kotetsu watched him, the Hashira's mood change was very strange, something wasn't right

“Tokito”

"Yes?"

"Are you feeling good?"

Muichiro's eyes widened.

"I-" he couldn't speak, why does Kotetsu care? “Why do you care?”

“Because I’m your friend, empty head” Kotetsu laughed

“Maybe I’m not 100% okay, but what can you do about it?”

“Making you smile”

"What?" Muichiro looked confused

“No one ever wanted to make you smile?” Kotetsu thought it was strange

In the back of his mind, Muichiro knew that they had already tried to make him smile several times, but he couldn't remember exactly.

“I think so, but I don’t remember how”

Kotetsu laughed "you'll already know..."

Kanamori approached “what are you talking about?”

“Kotetsu wants to make me smile!” Muichiro exclaimed, sounding like a small child

“Tokito said he doesn’t remember how to make him smile, what do you think?” Kotetsu said, smiling evilly at the adult

“Hm… I think we know how to make him smile.”

"You know?" Muichiro said “how?”

"Like this!" Kotetsu jumped on top of the hashira, squeezing his sides to tickle him.

“AH!” Muichiro exclaimed, then fell to the ground, covering his face with his hands.

“You may be a hashira, Tokito, but everyone have weaknesses” Kanamori smiled, squeezing the lying boy's feathers

“Haha! Gotcha! I-“ Kotetsu interrupted himself

He saw that Muichiro was making a noise, that he was laughing

And it was so cute

“PLEHEHEHEASE IT TIHICKLEHES”

“That’s the goal” Kanamori smiled

Muichiro tried to grab Kotetsu's hands, which were approaching his belly, so he uncovered his face and showed his smile.

It was beautiful

“NOHOHOT THEHERE”

"Here? Why not here?~” the child purposely squeezed the teenager's belly more times

“I think you found his weak point” Kanamori celebrated, squeezing Muichiro’s knees “come on, enjoy”

Kotetsu really took advantage, starting to squeeze and scratch Muichiro's entire belly, the child was finding it great

“PLEHEHEHEHEHASEHEHEHE”

"Please continue?"

“NOHOHOHOHOHO”

“Do you think he’s getting too tired?” Kotetsu asked Kanamori

“Everyone gets tired at some point, right?” The man raised his hands, stopping

Kotetsu rolled his eyes “okay, how boring”

Muichiro melted onto the floor, smiling

“I-I’m smiling?” He asked

“Yes, sir” Kanamori set up the table for them to eat

“So that’s what my brother did! Thanks! Thanks!" Muichiro hugged Kotetsu, he was very excited

The boy didn't understand anything

“You look happy” Kanamori smiled

"I am! Thanks!" He kept exclaiming

Kotetsu laughed

“You are strange Tokito”

"Am I?" Muichiro watched him for a second, then smiled “I am”

Everyone laughed

❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜❤️🧡

Thanks for reading 💛💛

[sokraaat]

Let me know if you love me

Cat love is the only love my twisted brain understands and can reciprocate. Something to do with childhood trauma, I think.

That's what the tired cat mom evokes in me every time I see her.

The house opposite my peaceful cottage on the outskirts of town has been vacant for a long time. Late one afternoon while smoking my after-work joint, a cat crawled out of the little hole on the bottom side of the neighbor's green and cracked door, and seven little kittens followed her. In my stoned head I thought I'd smoked too much once again, and hastily jumped up and stopped. The mother cat hissed softly and wearily, but all the kittens ran back through the half-broken doorway in fear.

It took a week for the mother and her babies to get used to me. Not only did time heal the wounds of fear I’d caused her, but also a lot of good cat food. I think, at least, the brand resembles a deli of the human world; I read “Gourmet” on the pack, after all.

Every morning I get up and make myself a coffee in the light green French press, turn on the work laptop and write “morning all” to my team. Then I open my little cottage door and eagerly rustle at the bag of food. Soon the kittens crawl out of the neighbor's doorway and begin their daily yoga rituals in front of me, yawning and slightly annoyed - I get the feeling that it's my fault for waking them up so early.

On Sunday I fed the cats a little later, just before noon. The yoga rituals after the rustling of the bags were still the same as they were every morning. The yawns, the guilty looks, the somewhat distant steps in my direction, the somewhat arrogant looking away that followed were still the same every morning. This is a language I speak fluently. I look at the mother cat with half-sunk eyes and blink slowly and long. She replies: "I like you, man!".

"Yes, I like you too, mumma cat.”

A comfortably miserable romance, the yearning of Portuguese sailors between two desolate little land mammals.

It took me 37 full years to find out that I only know and understand and can return that kind of love. A discovery for which I deserve an alternative Nobel Prize. Without arrogance, I can compare the aha moment when I realized this to the first step of the footsteps on the dusty and dark surface of the moon.

Around noon, Anna wrote to ask if I was awake yet. I quickly answered yes, but it would take me a few hours before I’d feel ready.

“If you're still in Alcântara, I can walk up the hill later and meet you somewhere. Then we’ll walk to the boat together." -I wrote.

"Yeah! Well, I'm still at home, yes, but I'm driving the scooter. You come to the arch up there. I'll wait for you there, then we'll drive together" -she answered.

"Leave the scooter at home, we'll drink a lot anyway." - I replied.

"Please, not this pointless discussion again!"

“Look…” -I answered quickly.. “After the party on the boat, we'll walk to the kebab shop on the corner of Rua Luís de Camões, then order two beers and stagger half-tired, half-dead through the lights of Alcântara. The purple jacarandas, though they are long gone, will drench our sweat with their scent and you will blame me for taking so long to walk home again and it would have been better if I had listened to you for once and taken the scooter with us. I'll agree with you, of course, while we slowly climb the hill. However, this evening will be different; it will drizzle warmly on us in the late summer, we will breathe a sigh of relief together on the Lisbon earth soaked with melancholy and for the very first time the beer will taste ethereal before we part.” -I wrote.

"What do you say?"

"Didn't know you were a poet, that was really wonderful!" -she answered.

"Actually, it's more prose."

"OK!" - she wrote.

“No, I'm driving the scooter. Will you be up at the arch at three twenty?" -she asked.

"Yes, of course."

"No no no!". I discussed with myself on the arc of Alcântara whether I do have feelings for Anna. "You're fine right now, why do you want to change that? All you need is just a cat. With the cat, all you need is to look at each other to express love and security. You're both always distant and a gesture like slowly stroking your hair means the world to you. You cannot give more than that. You can't take more than that either."

"Yes! Holy shit! I know that all too well."

"But?"

"But, I like Anna."

"I think so".

"Oh, dude”.

And there she was, rolling along happily on her old scooter, vibrating like a 1960s drill.

She threw me the key and I opened the trunk and took out the white helmet with the Tricolori d'Italia on it.

We drove through Alcântara and I spread my arms wide. Behind her I felt like Rose in front of Jack at the back of the unsinkable lady, who sank on her first voyage.

"I'm the king of the world!" - for her to shout this would be all that’s needed for the day to fulfill its melancholy kitsch nature.

On the boat I drank and I danced and I laughed and I built an all-encompassing fantasy around us where I only saw her. My joy ran ahead of me, jumping and embracing her as we sailed under the red bridge, from the corner of which Jesus nodded to us.

I caught her eye. The one look that says it all, the look that opens a small, illuminated window to the soul, the look of innocent desire. The look that starts a long odyssey, the look of silent words of heart’s devotion. And the look that wistfully ends all hope.

Instead, I contented myself with the sight of her hair blowing charmingly, and envied the fresh Atlantic wind for being allowed to caress her enchanting face.

We laughed and swapped the glitters on our cheeks like it was the last thing we were going to swap that night.

Everyone danced happily to the techno bass, shouted along rhythmically and jumped around tirelessly. The boat tumbled exuberantly with the melody from the black-clad speakers, and Lisbon waved at us fondly from the side.

On the way back to the harbor I stood in front of the bass for a long time, pretty high, happy with the music, frustrated that I'm standing in my own way, and thinking about the neighbor's cat.

We sailed under the 25 de Abril bridge again and its fearsome standing and size dwarfed me, so that my worries and problems seemed even smaller. I looked back and saw Anna exchanging her phone number with some guy.

"Shit, right?"

"Yes"

"So now do you believe me when I say I like her"

"Yes, yes. I feel it too”

"Good!" … “At least we are on the same wavelength now”

The boat docked at the quay. We got off and Anna, embarrassed, asked me if I would take the bus home.

I said yes. I saw the guy waiting a little further from us.

"The evening was great" -I said.

“Yes, absolutely beautiful”.

"Remember when we had to share an embarrassing story from our past in the team meeting?" - I asked her.

"Yes" - she answered with a questioning face.

"This is another one..." I said before continuing.

"I've been shouldering this for a while now, and because we're colleagues and I know full well that it's not a good idea, and because I've had bad experiences with stories like this, but because recently I've also learned I should say what I want to say and because, to be honest, I've always been good at breaking up beautiful moments, I have to tell you something I've been able to successfully hold back until now...".

"Are you getting to the point?" - she interrupted me.

"I like you... I mean, I feel something, and when I saw you exchanging numbers with that guy over there, I was finally convinced that I fell for you."

"I don't know what to say" - she answered after several hesitations.

"Now that's not what I expected from you, I mean I just like you as a colleague and friend." - she explained.

"I know, I know" - I replied. “Until now I’ve ignored this feeling well. But hey, don't worry, I assure you there will never be any awkwardness in the office between us. We humans have two ears - one in, one out.”

"No wait. I'll have to think about this" - she said, visibly irritated. "I can't even think right now."

"It's fine, really. I had to confess that to you, otherwise I’d become hyper-fixated on it and it would become a problem for myself. I also know that it's quite selfish of me to say something like that to you." -I said and jumped up to her and hugged her. I gave her a kiss on the cheek and said goodbye.

I walked under the bridge on my way home relentlessly and happily excited, my fantasy bubble had finally burst, silently and unnoticed. My bitter sadness, however, tasted sweet and bitter when I looked up at the bridge, and I grew small again, but satisfied with myself. I whistled "let me know if you love me" to myself and thought about the neighbor's cat.

[sweeethinny]

All you gotta do is call me

I was listening to this song (English version, for those who want to listen), when I thought of writing this

It doesn't make much sense, sorry

Muggle AU, James and Lily broke up in their first year of Uni :)

if i were you, i would listen to the music, to understand what James is going through, several phrases of him are part of the music - the portuguese version

------

'You should be better at this,' Sirius said, lying on the mattress next to James. 'You say that you two are just friends, but all she has to do is call you, that you run to her.'

'But we are just friends.' James defended himself, looking at his friend.

'So why are you jealous of her?' Sirius raised an eyebrow.

'I'm not jealous, Pads, I want her well, and honestly, that guy is doing this just to see her naked.' James sighed, running his hand over his face to try to forget the image of Gilian next to Lily.

'What if she wants to be naked for him? What do you have to do with it? She’s single, and you’re just friends. ’

'Why do you keep asking me so many questions? Am I by any chance a witness or a murderer, and you a detective? Fuck, Pads, I already said, we’re just friends. ’

'Prongs, are you a friend of the woman you dated for three years and swore eternal love? Really? No, look at me, mate, look at me, are you telling me that Lily Evans is just your friend, and that your concern is because she might be dating a stupid guy? Just that?’ Sirius knew him too well, James snorted, he should have gone to talk to Peter or Marlene, they wouldn’t know how to read between the lines.

'I wanted to say no to her, I swear, Pads, but I can't,' he admitted, defeated, falling back on the bed, feeling the effects that alcohol had had on his brain. All he could imagine was Lily, the beautiful Lily, who one day he had the pleasure of calling her his girlfriend.

Gilian idiot.

'It's going to be a year, but I still can't… I still can't get over this woman! Damn it!’ James threw the pillow away, for no reason, her scent wasn’t on his sheets for a long time now, and in this last year she even changed her perfume. Nothing in his house or bed remembered that new Lily, who just wanted to be his friend, who went out with stupid guys and liked to go hiking.

James felt like an idiot for not being the guy next to her.

'I think you should just… accept that you can't be friends, for your own good.' Sirius comforted him, like a great friend that he was, without even caring that James was drunk as death , and that he had hugged Sirius as if he were a child in need of care.

Padfoot, who was patient, hugged him back, patting James on the back, who was lying on his chest, controlling himself not to cry.

He shouldn't have been drinking the same day that Lily introduced him to her new suitor as ’friend’.

'You should also go out with some girls, maybe this time it will be different. There are several that I know who would love to go out with you, you are a nice guy, James, a handsome guy ... Don't spend your time just being friends with a woman who makes you suffer. If only you guys had sex, it would be worth the pain, but no, so… Tell her it’s no longer possible. ’James whimpered, listening to Sirius sigh.

‘But Pads-’

‘No‘ ’but’ ’James, this woman has been making you suffer for a year, and because you allow her to do that, that’s it. We're in college, by God, there are a multitude of beautiful women, or men if you want, that will surely hurt you less than she does. '

'But it's her I want.' James sobbed drunk, barely realizing that Sirius seemed to want to laugh when he started to cry.

'But she doesn't want you, mate, that's the problem. Lily Evans doesn't want you. And there is nothing that will change that. ’

Before James could say anything, his phone rang, making him jump on the bed to answer it, ignoring Sirius 'gaze and his attempt to snatch the cell phone out of James' hand.

'Hi.' He said, smiling like an idiot.

'Hi, James,' Lily replied, the sweet voice that made him feel more stupid than usual. He almost laughed, still drunk, watching Sirius start swearing at him. ‘Everything okay there?’

'Yes, yes, what do you need?' James pretended the best voice, even though the vodka had clouded his vision.

'I thought if you didn’t want to come here at home? Sirius can come too. The girls will come and we will have a friends' night.’ Sirius patted James on the arm to wake him up, repeating friends several times.

‘Sure, we’re going.’ James pushed Sirius away, making him fall onto the bed again. ‘Soon we’ll be there.’

'Okay, bye!' Lily hung up, and Sirius didn't even wait a second before throwing the other pillow at James, who needed a lot of effort not to fall to the floor

‘Mate!!!!’ Sirius shouted.

‘The meeting with Gilian clearly didn’t work, I can’t celebrate? She called me!’ James held up his phone, as if to prove a point.

'James ... As friends! She made it clear that she invited other people, she invited me!’

'It didn't mean anything, Pads, the meeting didn't work out, and she called me to go there. Maybe there is a chance... ’

[lissalizzie]

Okay so a couple of days ago I made a post about how I couldn't write fanfics about Chishiya because I couldn't imagine him as a guy who would be in a romance without sacrificing his girlfriend for a card or visas, and some very cool person suggested me to write an angst...AND I DID ahahahaha.

Ookay, somethings you should know now: I'm Brazilian and I speak Portuguese, I learned English by myself and this is the first time I try writing anything in English so IM SORRY IF I MADE ANY MISTAKE

Second thing would be

THIS IS ANGST SO IF YOU DON'T LIKE IT OR IF IT MAKES YOU FEEL BAD OR UNCOMFORTABLE PLEASE DON'T READ IT

It also contains death, psychological manipulation and violence

Please dont romanticize it too, it's not a romance story, it's just the conditions I imagined for Chishiya to be involved with someone

Chishiya x Reader

You were hurt... So hurt you couldn't even begin to explain that feeling.

It was true You were somehow grateful because you were alive at least... Your friends couldn't say the same, and neither all those people you saw dying every fucking game.  But you just couldn't... Not to think about how pointless was being alive and alone at that place... Alive, alone and fucking in love with a person who had an Ice cube in a shape of a card in the place of his heart.

You knew from day 1 when you met Chishiya and Kuina at the Beach, when that boy with the mysterious look came to you for the first time for "a talk" that nothing good could come from that. Nothing, except, maybe, for Kuina's friendship... She, who was the first person who notices the mess you was doing and tried to stop you... As the great blind stubborn you were, You just didn't listen at the time... You was at a fucking game world, playing for your life almost everyday, dealing with deaths and losing people... Missing the ones you loved the most, those ones you didn't even know if were or weren't alive... You could deal with a stuck up  boy, because that's everything you thought he was... Your mistake... Well, You've recently discovered You're pretty damn good in making mistakes here.

Chishiya discovered yout feelings because at some point you couldn't manage to fight for your life and hide it... He noticed and started to be there for you after every game, specially the harder ones. He didnt talk anything, he just was there... He didnt touch you either, but he got to spend more and more time looking at you while you both were on bed... Those eyes, just as cold as him.

You didnt touch him, but you imagined he would be just as cold as that look... But you also believed he would be that deep... Like oceans. Chishiya was a grey ocean that you wanted so much, and every day more, to know...

You was so fragile, so fragile when he touched your skin for the first time, twice... The first time with his hands that wasn't cold at all which just made you want him nearer... The second time with the lips that came from your face to your mouth.

The boy must've planned that for weeks, you could see that now, in fact, now you understand that must be the reason why he looked so much at you. You was that school subject Chishiya probably didnt have any interest on but really had to study to pass the test... So he did... And you did...

And for the first time since you fell into that hell you felt alive, you felt like someone, just one person was there, and that Chishiya cared... And that  he would do for you just as much that you would do for him.

You were so blind and in love... He started saying things about plans and you were so happy cause you thought that meant he trusted you...  The first time he mentioned you on a plan you couldn't stop smiling, you were finally a part of someone's life there, it was like having a purpose again... And also being with him felt so much like action and... Not knowing about the next second because he was so... cloudy.

God, if only you could talk to yourself in the past, if only you have stopped for a second and gave that situation a better look... You felt so dumb now...

Well when he asked you to go to that place at night you... Just went, because you trusted him with your life by now. You knew somewhere deep in your heart that you shouldn't... Not just him but anyone... But it was a need, you were alone for a long time and then you found him... And then he started acting that way with you... He caught you out of guard...

It was silent, you didnt understand why you should be there, but the fact is that you were so afraid. Chishiya only said to be there and walk... It wasnt that much, but just as fast as you got there, you felt something on your back and then everything was dark.

When you woke up, you were in a room and Niragi, just with a couple of other important people -you just knew they were important because they were with the Hatter, the only one you could recognize besides Niragi because of the colors of his clothes.- You barely could see, actually, your eyes were still dealing with the lights.

- So that's the little bitch, huh? - You could listen to Hatter's voice. He came near of you and showed you a couple of cards. - Trying to steal from me ? You bastard really thought you could steal from me and just run away ?

You just didnt understand, you didnt had any card with you. You knew what happened to traitors and you always gave your cards to the beach just as you was told.

-B-But... I give my cards to you, I know I do. I'm not dumb

- Oh honey, dont play the stupid card. We found the cards with you, you were running away... You have many here... You haven't been to all this games lately, have you ? Have you been stealing from someone else, darling? - Hatter seemed to be genuinely angry and you were so afraid to say anything.

-I...

- Yes... - And you heard that familiar voice... That was Chishiya but you were hoping he would only come to help you... - My cards have been disappearing as I told you. I connected that it happened after every game I played with her after we became close... That's when I came to talk to you... - That was so much information you couldn't even handle. Chishiya betrayed you, lied about you and used you as his little toy just so he could... Distract people while he was doing whatever he was really planning and wasn't telling you... It was so clear... Oh God you felt so dumb and now it was like all your fights for being alive in that place had no value at all... Because you let yourself get caught by that stupid feeling...

Chishiya looked at you with the same cold eyes as always, no guilt... You wasn't expecting any, not after that.

- Well.. Death for the traitors, that's what you've been told - Hatter was just ready to give the orders to Niragi and you didnt really think you deserved to die by the hands of such a disgusting person

At that point you could only cry cause you knew it wasn't worth it to try arguing... Chishiya was too damn smart and there would be no evidence of mistakes if you knew him...

- She was stealing from me, right ? So I think I have the right to end this with my own hands? - Everyone got so surprised because Chishiya wasnt exactly the kind of guy who got involved with the dirty part of the job.

- Are you sure about this ? - Hatter never really doubted about Chishiya because he knew how much about himself he didnt show people... So Yes, killing someone because of a couple of cards didn't surprise him at all, maybe because he would do the same. - Whatever... Just be done with it by the morning... And dont even think about playing any kind of game Chishiya... You could be the next one.

Chishiya wasnt even listening. Niragi seemed literally so frustrated but, at some point, all people left.

Chishiya caught the gun that was above the table and came near you. You were crying silently but so hard... - What do you want? You wanna torture me now? Seeing me playing the stupid in love all this time wasnt enough for you? You want to literally kill me? How did you do that? - You were screaming, at that point you didnt care if someone would hear.

- You don't understand, right? - And then he showed a couple of cards, this time, one of each... Oh god... He literally used you to get Hatters's cards. - I'm sorry you made the wrong choices... But I needed to to this... I want to get out of here just as much as you...  About the plan... You know I have access to the cards after the games... It's not that hard to steal the repeated ones, they don't pay that much attention on them... And also, just after I did it, I came to talk to Hatter about my card disappearing so the he wouldn't miss anything... It wasnt that har actually, it was just a distraction... But you know so much about me and my plans so I couldn't let you alone with Niragi or any of those people cause they're so dumb they might believe you and that's would be a problem for me... So

- You bastard, What do you think you are? God? You think you can just come and sacrifice people? - You wanted to beat him so hard it almost gave you the strength to break that stupid string around you. He just smiled that way you used to love but now make you nauseous.

- If I were god... I wouldn't allow people as easy to manipulate as you to live with the others, darling... Dont blame me for trusting the person everyone told you that shouldn't be trusted... Now... Let's get this done. - He pointed the gun at your forehead and you screamed as you closed your eyes.

- Please... Please Chishiya. I didnt mean anything for you at all?

- There's no meaning when there's no feeling, y/n... You're not in high school, you're playing for your life, and so am I... And you lost. I'm so sorry for you. - For the first time he seemed to be nervous but you couldn't see much anyway... He pulled the trigger... And then it was over.

[jiejie-eonni-onee-sama]

Speaking her language

For the charming @empress-writes​ 💙💛🧡💖

Hope you’ll like the story!

The South of France is a safer place for the Basterds, as they took a break after their last mission.

They were currently hidden in a remote cottage near the small village of Gassin. Its inhabitants were kind and helpful, which was a blessing for Aldo Raine and his men.

"No news from the superiors, Lieutenant?"

"Na yet, Donny. But ya can be sure that we're gonna heard about them, one way or another!"

"So, let's enjoy our free time!" happily exclaimed Hirschberg as he ate a piece of cake.

"Can you sometimes stop eating, you glutton?" admonished Andy.

"But Mrs. Dupin's pies are so delicious!"

As the others were gently chatting, Wicki was gazing at (Y/N) (L/N), the only woman in the group. He could not help but smile while looking at her as she read a book. 

If you ask him, he would probably answer that everything she did was perfection. To sum up, he fell heels over head in love with the woman.

Of course, the other Basterds were aware of it and never missed an opportunity to tease him about his crush. Even Hugo loved taunting him!

Wilhelm's daydreaming was interrupted by Utivitch, who shyly asked:

"Hey, (Y/N)?"

"Yes, Smithson?" answered the woman with a gentle smile.

"What are you reading?"

"Oh, I was reading Les lettres de mon moulin by Alphonse Daudet. It is a French collection of short stories about Provence!"

"Okay... Wait, you understand French?"

She laughed.

"Uti, can you remind us what is my job here?"

"She is the translator, you dummy!" growled Hugo.

"Don't be so harsh, Stiglitz!" scolded Hicox.

"Indeed, I am the translator of the group."

"Of course!"

"By the way, how many languages do you speak?" inquired Omar.

A sly grin appeared on her face.

"What if we played a little game?"

"YES! A GAME!" happily screamed Andy, Michael, and Simon.

"Ouch! My ears!" grumbled Wicki.

"Okay, let's play! What are the rules, doll?" asked Donny.

"It's simple: I'll talk in a language to each of you in turn, and you have to guess how many languages I can speak!"

"Sounds good to me! Start whenever ya want, pretty!"

Suddenly, all the Basterds were quiet and waited for (Y/N).

While she was mentally choosing the first player, the other Basterds noticed the enamored gaze of Wicki towards the blonde woman. Time to play some trick on the suitor...

"I'm going to start with... Mr. Hicox!"

"I'm always ready, my dear!"

"Eres muy guapo. ¡Un verdadero caballero!" (You're very handsome. A real gentleman!)"

"Mmmmh... I would say that you speak Spanish!"

"Exactly!"

"And what did you say?"

"I told you that you were handsome, and you look like a real gentleman!"

The Basterds laughed and whistled.

"Well, milady, you're absolutely astonishing! Hearing you speaking Spanish is like listening to a nightingale!" answered the British spy with a seductive wink.

The young woman chuckled before asking:

"You sweet-talker! Alright! Who's next?"

"Why won't you ask Omar?" snickered Michael.

"Go to hell!" grunted the latter.

"Don't worry, Omar: it's only for fun. Are you ready?"

A charming smile came across Omar's face:

"Please, go ahead!"

"Okay... Nǐ hěn yǒnggǎn, wǒ hěn gāoxìng chéngwéi nǐ de péngyǒu!" (You're brave, and I'm happy to be your friend!)

Omar was puzzled.

"It does not sound like a European language..."

"You're right, it's not from Europe..."

"Mh, that's tricky... I don't know!"

"Give it a try!" she gently encouraged him.

The soldier scratched the back of his head:

"Er... Is it Japanese?"

"Sorry, but no. It was Chinese!"

"CHINESE? REALLY?" yelled Omar under the laughs of his comrades.

"Yes, indeed. I learned it when I was younger, thanks to my nanny who came from Shangai! And if you want a translation, it means that you're brave and I am happy to be your friend!"

"Alright... Well, thank you! It was beautiful! Especially when it comes from you!"

"You charmer!"

Wicki raised an eyebrow: he started to guess what his friends were doing, and he was not pleased...

"Fine, let's go back to the game, would you? The next one will be... Donny!"

"At your orders, baby doll!" 

"Then, I start... Sei forte e affascinante! E amo il tuo sorriso!" (You're strong and charming! And I love your smile!)

"Ah, so easy! Italian!"

"Bravo! You're right!"

"And what did you mean?"

"I said Donny is strong and charming... and I love his smile!"

Donny put his large hands on his chest, faking to be enthralled.

"And she speaks Italian! Gosh, this woman is perfect!"

He blew her a kiss.

"Please, receive this proof of love from a Bostonian guy!"

Laughing at his antics, (Y/N) mimicked catching the kiss and holding it against her heart.

"Thank you, Donny!"

As for Wilhelm, he gets annoyed. He did not know if they were trying to woo her for real or if they were just pissing him off. In both cases, he hated them at the moment.

"Okay. For the next turn, I'll ask for... Lieutenant Raine!"

"Here I am, pretty woman!"

"Fine, let's go... 'ant qayid rayie qawiun washajae wajadhab jadana!" (You are an astounding leader. Sturdy, brave, and so attractive!)

"Uh, that's a tricky one! Sounds like the Cree language..."

"Unfortunately, Lieutenant, I don't speak Native American languages."

"Okay... So, is it Danish?"

"No."

"Hm... Perhaps Portuguese?"

"Wrong answer. It was Arabic!"

"WOAH!" exclaimed all the Basterds, impressed.

"God, you awe me! And what did you mean?"

"I was saying that you are an astounding leader and that you are sturdy, brave, and attractive!"

Aldo smirked and gave her his best seductive face.

"Girl, give me back my heart, would ya? You stole it since the first day!"

(Y/N) heartily laughed.

"Please, Lieutenant: you're a charmer!"

"Only for you, sweetheart!"

"Verräter!" (Betrayer!) gritted Wicki.

"Fine, let's go! I choose... Andy!"

"At your service, milady!"

"Okay, I start... Du är söt när du ler." (You're cute when you smile)

"Uh... Does this language exist?"

"Of course!"

"Okay, Kagan: use your brains... Ah, I know: Danish!"

"Almost..."

"Swedish?"

"Good answer!"

"Well done, Kagan!" laughed Archie.

"Thanks, sir... But I'm sure that if (Y/N) goes to Sweden, they would hate her!"

"Why?"

"Look at her smile: it's like the sun, the snow would melt in a blink!"

"Oh My God, Kagan! That was the corniest thing I've ever heard!" roared Michael as he clutched his sides.

"Well, I find it cute. Thank you, Andy!"

"You're welcome... By the way, what did you mean?"

"Oh, I said that you're cute when you smile!"

Kagan fiercely blushed.

"Thank you, Miss..."

"Pleasure is mine... Hey, Michael, do you want to try?"

"I never say no to a challenge, especially from a beautiful lady!"

"Let's see... Vy geniy i prekrasnyy chelovek." (You are a genius and a lovely man). 

"Woah, Woah, Woah! What the hell is that language?"

"I assure you, this is a real language!"

"Uh... German?"

"NO!" answered Wicki and Stiglitz, offended.

"Calm down, guys! Okay, so if it's not German... It's Russian!"

"Bravo!" (Y/N) clapped happily.

"Wait a minute... If I did not miss the track, we know that you speak 6 languages! And I don't know why, but I think you know more!" said Utivitch.

"That's right! Okay, now, who wants to try?"

"I volunteer!" exclaimed Smithson.

"With pleasure! Let's see which language I use with you..." she wondered.

She got an idea and started to speak in a foreign language:

"Anata wa watashi ga imamade deatta naka de mottomo omoshirokute shinsetsuna hitodesu!" (You're the funniest and kindest man I ever met!)

"Ah, I got it! If it's not Chinese... It's Japanese!"

"Splendid!"

"Well done, chap!" laughed Simon as he applauded.

"Thanks, pal. And may I know the meaning of your sentence?"

"Of course! I said that you are the funniest and kindest man I ever met!"

"And they dare to say perfection does not exist! Obviously, they did not meet our lovely (Y/N)!" shouted Utivitch.

"Please, don't exaggerate!" blushed the young woman.

Wicki clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles went white. He swore to God that they would pay for their antics.

"Okay, the next player would be... Simon!"

"Yes, ma'am! Always yours!"

"You trickster! Fine, try to guess this one... אני מאוד מעריך את החברה שלך." (I really appreciate your company)

"No... You speak Hebrew? The language of our people?"

"Indeed."

"But it sounds beautiful when it comes from you! Okay, you know what? After the war, I'll marry you!"

"Oh, Simon! Don't be so crazy!" she laughed.

"I'm already crazy in love with you!"

"And you say I am corny, Michael..." sneered Andy.

"Forget what I said!"

After she stopped laughing, (Y/N) declared:

"So, I think we had three players last. Well, let's the game begin with Hirschberg."

"Hooray! Here I am!"

"Alright! So, try to find this one... Jesteś uroczym żarłokiem." (You're an adorable glutton)

"Well, that's unusual! Er... I don't remember hearing this language before!"

"Give me suggestions!"

"It is a Slavic language?"

"Not at all."

Gerold sighed.

"Damn it, girl! It's a freakin' riddle!"

"Watch your language in front of a lady!" scolded Hicox.

"Don't worry, Archie: I've heard worse before!" said (Y/N) with a smug grin.

"Mh, I don't know... Is it Turkish?"

"Not at all, but I am currently studying this language!"

"Er... Nope, I don't know!"

"It's Polish!"

"My my, she is impressive!" chuckled Aldo as he took a bite of his bread.

"And what did you say?"

"I said that you are an adorable glutton!"

Hearing that, the other Basterds roared with laughter.

"AH AH AH AH! Well done, (Y/N)!" shrieked Utivitch.

"Hey, that's not fair!" yelped Hirschberg.

Upset that she would offend her friend, the woman apologized.

"I'm sorry if I hurt you, Gerold. I did not mean to..."

"It's alright, (Y/N). Likewise, I'll always forgive you!"

"Oh, why?"

"Because you are beautiful!" answered the soldier with a huge smile.

Relieved, she happily laughed while Wicki contained himself to punch someone's face.

"Okay, now, let's go on with Hugo!"

"I'm listening..."

"I'm sure you'll recognize this language... Du erinnerst mich an einen Wolf: einsam, mysteriös und faszinierend." (You remind me of a wolf: solitary, mysterious, and fascinating.)

"German, without hesitation!" smirked Stiglitz.

"Indeed!"

"And what did she say?" asked Donny.

Hugo stood up and walked towards her.

"She compared me to wolf. She said that I am solitary, mysterious, and fascinating..."

"(Y/N) got the point!" smiled Michael.

Stiglitz arrived near the woman and kneeled with deference.

"You won... I surrender to your beautiful voice! I could not resist you speaking my mother tongue with such delicacy!"

"Nice touch, Stiglitz!" exclaimed Archie.

"Oh, Hugo! You must be exaggerating: I'm pretty sure my accent was a disaster!"

"The only thing pretty is you, (Y/N)" grinned Hugo as he gently kissed the woman's hand... while he looked out of the corner of his eyes at Wilhelm with a roguish glance.

"Trottel!" (You jerk)!" gritted the latter through his teeth.

At the same moment, (Y/N) was amused by her friends' antics: they always treated her like a queen and were very respectful towards her. But this time, she felt that there was something else, like if they were playing a prank on someone...

"You guys are all amazing! But let's finish this game with the last player: Wilhelm!"

Hearing his name, Wicki snapped out of his anger and said:

"Yes, I'm ready!"

"Okay so, let's see if you will be able to find this one... Mon cher Wilhelm, tu es un homme courageux, loyal, et séduisant." (My dear Wilhelm, you are a courageous, loyal, and attractive man.)

The Austrian Jewish man smirked:

"Without any doubt, I would say... French!"

"Precisely! You had a good ear!"

"And what did you say to Wilhelm? I'm curious..." asked Hirschberg with a playful tone.

(Y/N) slightly flushed before answering:

"I told him that he was a brave, loyal, and attractive man!"

"How cute!" laughed Aldo.

As for Wilhelm, he was struck: definitely, he was in love! With a smug smile, he said:

"Merci beaucoup pour le compliment, jolie mademoiselle!" (Thank you very much for the compliment, lovely miss!)

(Y/N) was impressed by his hidden talent.

"Oh, what a surprise! I did not know you speak French!"

"I know a few... but I'm sure I would not reach your level!"

"Don't underestimate yourself!"

"Heck, she could give some “private” lessons, if you want!" smirked Andy while wiggling his eyebrows.

"Keep your dirty thoughts for you!" snarled Wicki.

"Okay guys, calm down! Now that everyone answered (Y/N), did anyone count how many languages she can speak?" asked Archie.

"I did sir! And she speaks in 11 languages!" replied Utivitch.

"11 LANGUAGES?" shouted the others.

"Indeed, you counted well, Smithson. But I also speak Portuguese, Dutch, and Slavic languages. And I'm currently learning Turkish, Hindi, Danish, Korean, and Finnish!"

"Girl, are ya planning to learn all the goddamn languages around the world?" asked Aldo, flabbergasted.

"Maybe... Seriously, I've always been interested in languages since I was a little girl and I never stopped my passion! Luckily for me, I was gifted with a good memory..."

"We noticed it." shrugged Hugo.

"Man, we're lucky to have her with us!" stated Hirschberg.

"Well spotted, private!" 

They enjoyed the afternoon, when (Y/N) had to go to the village for some groceries.

Once she left, Wicki turned his angered glare towards his comrades.

"May I know WHAT THE FUCK were you all doing earlier? Wooing her as if you did not know what I felt?"

"Don't be mad, Wicki: we just wanted to make a joke!" said Utivitch who tried to calm his friend.

"I did not find it very funny!" growled the Austrian.

"Don't be so ill-humored! We'll never steal her from you. Of course, we all love her, but she is like a sister or a best friend to many of us!" retorted Kagan.

"Damn right, Kagan. But Wil, ya better tell (Y/N) what ya feel for her! Stop tripping and man up!" ordered Aldo.

"And how I'm supposed to do that?"

"Use your brains, Wicki, and take a guess: why don't you use something she likes to declare your love?" muttered Hugo as he smoked his cigarette.

"Something she likes..." mumbled Wilhelm as he lost himself in his thoughts.

Suddenly, an idea popped up in his mind, and he slightly grinned: maybe he can try something interesting. 

He got up and searched in his bag a book his mother gave him before his departure. Wilhelm felt that the answer to his issue was between the pages of this poetry collection... 

Later in the evening... 

The cool summer night was calm and appeasing for the Basterds as they were finishing the meals brought by their French accomplices. 

At the same time, (Y/N) went for a small walk through the forest. She enjoyed the peaceful surrounding of the woods and sat on a tree stump to gaze at the shining stars who enlightened the dark blue sky.

The young woman slightly shivered as she felt the gentle breeze caress her bare arms.

"Can I join you?" asked a familiar masculine voice.

Startled, she turned and was relieved to see Wilhelm.

"Oh, it's you! You scare me!"

"I'm sorry!"

"It's fine... You can sit with me!"

Thanking her, the soldier sat close to the young woman. 

He felt a knot in his stomach as he was nervous: God, this girl would be the death of him!

He straightened up himself and declared:

"It's a nice night!"

"Indeed: I've always appreciated summer nights. I don't why, but it always soothes me... And it reminds me of this beautiful painting entitled Starry Night."

"Made by Van Gogh in 1888, if I'm right?"

"Exactly. It was a representation of a starry sky in Provence... where we are!"

"Interesting, I did not know this part of the story..." smiled Wicki.

He leaned closer and said:

"You know, this landscape reminds me of a poem..."

"Really?"

"Would you like to listen?"

"I would enjoy it!" (Y/N) smiled.

Wilhelm cleared his throat and declaimed:

Es liegt der heiße Sommer (There lies the heat of summer)

Auf deinen Wängelein; (On your cheek’s lovely art:)

Es liegt der Winter, der kalte, (There lies the cold of winter)

In deinem Herzchen klein. (Within your little heart.)

Das wird sich bei dir ändern, (That will change, beloved,)

Du Vielgeliebte mein! (The end not as the start!)

Der Winter wird auf den Wangen, (Winter on your cheek then,)

Der Sommer im Herzen sein. (Summer in your heart.)

When he finished reciting the poem, he saw a beautiful smile across (Y/N)'s face.

"Wilhelm, it was amazing!"

"Danke. Maybe you know the author..."

"I think it's Heinrich Heine!"

"Exactly! It’s the poem titled There lies the heat of summer."

"He wrote such beautiful masterpieces about love."

She shrugged with a sly smile.

"I'm a helpless romantic!"

"Don't apologize: it's one of your qualities!"

He added with a slight blush on his face.

"Besides, this poem has a special meaning for me..."

"Honestly? Why?"

"Yes. Well, when I was younger, I told my mother that I would say this poem to the girl I want to spend my life with..."

"Oh, that's so charming..."

(Y/N) interrupted herself when she realized what happened.

"Wait a minute... Did you mean that..."

Wicki nodded.

"You've guessed right: I love you, (Y/N). Since the first day in our team, I knew you were meant to me. But I was a coward for a long time and I did not know how to tell you the truth... until tonight!"

There was a silence until the young woman let out a relieved sigh:

"Thank God, what a relief!"

"What do you mean?"

She fidgeted with her fingers, slightly embarrassed.

"You know, Wilhelm... You were not the only one who was shy about their feelings!"

"You mean... that it's reciprocated?"

She agreed with a slight nod and a timid smile.

Assuaged by this revelation, Wicki leaned closer to her face, letting a few inches between their lips.

"Ich liebe dich, (Y/N)..."

"I love you too, Wilhelm..."

And they gently kissed, their lips sealed in a tender moment... 

Meantime, the other Basterds were spying on them, delighted smiles on their faces.

"Finally! He said it!" smirked Aldo.

"Look how cute they are!" grinned Utivitch.

"Indeed, they are. But remember guys: if you want to stay alive, don't cha flirt with her!" stated Donny.

"We took note, Don'. Should we celebrate this new couple?" asked Hirschberg.

"We'll do it when they'll come back to the camp. For now, let's them enjoy this moment alone!" tenderly smiled Andy.

"Gentlemen, we shall come back before they notice our presence. Moreover, we have a celebration to prepare!" simpered Hicox.

"The British's damn right! Let's go, boys!" discreetly cheered Michael.

"I'm so excited! It's like another Valentine's Day!" laughed Simon.

As they went back, Hugo looked back at the lovers with a small grin on his face.

"Well played, Wicki. You managed to speak her language, after all..."

Well, he was right: Wilhelm and (Y/N) found the perfect language between each other: the language of love...

Thank you for the reading!

I hope you’ll like it and I’m looking for your requests!

Take care and see you soon! 😘🥰😍🤩😷

[katefiction]

Catherine, I want you to kiss on the balcony by Letícia (cambridgepride)

A new story written by @cambridgepride. Translated by Google Translate, corrections by myself. Original Portuguese version is on her blog!

Hello my dear reader. When I wrote this one I was really depressed so it got a bit dramatic haha. I'll be honest with you… I didn't like the result of this story so much that I had even deleted it but I decided to recover because I was too lazy to write again… Anyway, enjoy your reading and I'm sorry if it wasn't what I expected. Leticia xx

2007

Hearing the bell ringing through the house, Catherine placed her cup of tea on the kitchen counter and headed for the door, opening her heart sped up and her eyes widened in astonishment as she contemplated the tall figure standing outside her apartment door.

– William? Why are you here?

– Kate, I couldn't take it anymore… I need to talk to you! Sorry… I… I know I should have called you before I came, but I was afraid you wouldn't answer me so I decided to come by surprise because I want the chance to say everything I need…

Two months ago Catherine and William had ended their relationship, both were upset and hurt with each other by the way it all turned out.

She didn't want to show him that she was hurting and upset about their breakup, but seeing him standing at her door made her completely forget about everything.

- Come in. - She said stretching her left arm and taking a step to the side to make way for the man in front of her.

Upon closing the door, the prince questioned her:

– Are you alone here?

Catherine was worried about him and anxious about this situation and quickly replied:

– Yes, I'm alone William! By God man, tell me what's going on, why did you come here? What do you need to tell me that can't be by message?

William took a deep breath and looked down into her green eyes.

– I know you're confused and a little nervous, but I didn't come here to fight, I just want a civil conversation, ok? Today there's no villain, today there's no victim, no audience, no newspapers, no drink… - He took a deep breath: – Baby, I miss you and I know you miss me too.

Catherine was serious and held that penetrating gaze of William, listening carefully to what he was talking to her... Her heart was pounding and a cold ran through her body, she was still afraid to show what she was feeling, but her gaze was already starting to give away the truth, in fact, he was right… She missed him so much.

William continued: – Baby, we know… We don't have the strength to stay away from each other.

Catherine opened her mouth to speak and William took a step towards her holding her hand, feeling her touch, her body shuddered, her chest heaved and there was no sound coming out of her mouth...

“Babykins, when I was away from you I came to the conclusion that we look like two knives…” Catherine looked at him confused, raising an eyebrow. He continued. – Scratching themselves looking for the cut… We are two hearts fighting to see who is the strongest…

Catherine gave a small smile and spoke softly:

- Yes, you are right…

He looked at her tenderly and a shy smile appeared on his face.

– Baby, can I hug you?

– Will… I don't know if that's right. – She said wanting to get away from him.

- Why would not it be? - He asked.

– After all… Years of relationship, we had those fights, we hurt each other, we broke up and now out of nowhere you show up here in the middle of the night telling me these things…

- What do I need to do for you to believe in me? - He said seriously.

Catherine took a deep breath and walked towards the sofa, as she sat down she patted her palm lightly on the soft fabric beside her inviting him to sit beside her.

– Will, with all due respect, I just want you to understand that I'm not your mother… I had chosen this life for me, for us. I did everything for you and thought you felt the same way about me. – She looked at him sadly.

– Kate, I know. I underestimated you! I was scared, I pushed you away trying to protect you… I didn't want and I don't want the same thing that happened to my parents… You know, I would never cheat on you, I was drunk, it was just a picture… I didn't… I didn't know that…

- I do not want to talk about that! – Catherine interrupted him. – Do not mention this photo again Will, please! – She said softly with tears welling in her eyes.

– Honey, sorry. This will never be repeated… I only ask you one thing… - William said, his eyes also full of tears.

- What? – She whispered.

He took her hands again and said:

– Come back with me, baby? I know I was an idiot, but I plan to spend the rest of my life trying to make up for my stupidity. As I said, I underestimated you… You don't lock me up, you don't suffocate me. You are the one who makes my life meaningful. You light it! You can't imagine how many sleepless nights I spent thinking about your smile, your laugh, your voice, your touch, your love… At least now I realize that I didn't give you the value you deserved and I want to reward it… Back for me baby!

– Will, darling… Since we broke up you have no idea how much I dreamed and waited for this moment.

Hearing this, William sighed in relief and felt Catherine's hand move up his right arm and caress his shoulder, then he enveloped her in a hug and he could feel Catherine finally in his arms.

A tight hug, full of longing, full of meaning.

– Baby, I don't know what to say… – Catherine said smiling tenderly.

– You don't need to say anything, you just love me… – He said smiling.

A silence hung in that room. The blue eyes never leaving the green ones, the hands clasped together. William moved even closer to Catherine and pressed his forehead to hers, then whispered,

– You know… I'm yours! So I… Who thought there was no love in life, you came breaking paradigms. I've never been so sure it's you as I am now… I love you so much… Catherine, I want that kiss on the porch.

Catherine smiled at that statement, moved even closer to him and whispered,

- Oh my love! I love you so much.

No more words were needed, now they were both in the same connection. Then he framed her face with both hands, his gaze caressed her parted lips, his desire to kiss her intensified as he saw her moisten her lips with the tip of her tongue in a silent invitation to join their mouths in a kiss .

The kiss happened slow and deep, their tongues entwined urgently, hot and wet. The sweetness of their mouths was a delight of sensations, pleasures kept where just a kiss would be too little to satiate their secret desires.

They were together again. A kiss full of promise. A kiss for a fresh start.

[fleabaqs]

TIPS FOR WRITING LATINOS FOR DUMMIES! 

because y’all can’t seem to get anything right.

under the cut you will find a lot of useful (maybe) information when writing latino characters. please consider leaving a like/reblog if you find this useful.

                                                      FIRST OF:

yes, karen, we will call you gringo. that’s not on the table, that’s not a discussion. all latinos use the word gringo, and if you say it’s a racist slur ONE MORE TIME, i swear you will regret it, filha da puta.

                                                                   SECOND:

NOT ALL LATINOS SPEAK SPANISH!! i know, crazy, right??? brazilians speaks PORTUGUESE, yes PORTUGUESE!!! bitch

yes, portuguese and spanish are really similar, but don’t write the “even though i speak only spanish/portuguese i can understand spanish/portuguese” depending on the country/state you’re born, you CAN’T. so just avoid that. 

if you’re character/fc was born in united states, they probably won’t be considered latino in latin america. PERIOD. that’s not up for discussion either. 

if your character/fc was born in latin america, he ISN’T going to be considered a person of colour if they have white skin. take for example the family from one day at a time. in usa they can be talking about racism and everything, but in latin america you only suffer racism if you have clearly black/asian descent. plus: if you’re white and you decided to shit rules into racism in latin america (at least in brazil) you’ll probably get beaten up. not a joke. and as a white latina, i support that.

WHY are you all so lazy? If you wanna write ANY character, from ANY country that is not yours = YOU SEARCH INFO ABOUT THAT COUNTRY!! i swear your hand is not going to fall of! im taking as example my country, if you wanna write a brazilian, search about the states! a cearense and a gaúcho are TOTALLY different!!! a carioca and paulista are totally different even tho rio de janeiro and são paulo are so close. DECIDE the country, the area, the state and city of your character!

moving on from geography: other types of stereotypes!! NOT ALL LATINA MOMS ARE CRAZY AND CONSERVATIVES! some are pretty chill! really… there are moms who won’t go crazy about anything. so don’t be afraid to write a mom that is okay with their child going out at night, being LGBT or being pro choice. okay???

okay, but why aren’t you using the word “latine”? most latino community are against this word. shocking, right? everyone has their reasons why they don’t like it, my case is because my family is really poor/my grandparents didn’t go to school and everything and as much as they would respect and understand non binary people, they would not be able to use it. not even my mom, who is a teacher, is able to use it. she respects their existence, but they gotta respect other people existence too. my family is one of the lucky ones, there are people in worse conditions. when using the word latine, UNDERSTAND the background of the character! 

ASIANS LATINOS EXISTS!! my god, this is a hard one. i never see asian latino representation in unitedstaten midia. like, what’s that about? they don’t have to choose between their ethnicities!! now shut up, karen

we DON’T call unitedstatens americans, or united states america! i don’t know what happened in their education system, but they really gotta understand america is a fucking continent with more than 30 countries. you’re not special, desgraçados parasitas do caralho

if i see one more latino drug dealer and latina sex symbol, IM GONNA KILL A GRINGO!! that’s not all we are!

we will get offended if you say we are from a country we are not, after we already said our country. i know it’s hard for you to memorize more than five countries, but i gonna be cheering for you!

most latinos hate, or at least dislike, our colonizers. in brazil, we make jokes about portuguese people all the time and we will ask for the gold they stole from us at any given opportunity. so when writing a latino character, know who colonized their country.

latinos are clean. i know this may sound a little off for non latinos, but our sense of personal hygiene is really important. again, this variates from country to country, but in brazil we are thought that we should brush our teeths after every meal (at least 4 times a day), and that we should shower EVERY day. no, no, don’t come with that unitedstaten shit about showering only when you exercise, or that during summer going to the pool is showering BECAUSE IT’S NOT, THAT’S FUCKING DISGUSTING HIJA DE PUTA. if your character has access to clear water and personal hygiene products, he will do this kind of things.

just... read abou that country you wanna write. here goes some ideias: *country* traditional food, *country* sports, *country* music (in this one, learn how to say the language of the country in the language of the country. example: don’t search “portuguese songs”, search instead for músicas brasilieiras. don’t search for “mexican songs” search for canciones mexicanas.), *country* books/writers, *language of the country* basic phrases! ]

latin america is part of three americas! america is devided in three. north america = mexico, and the other two; central america = cuba, costa rica, etc; south america = brazil, chile, etc. DON’T go to my ask to say “oH mExIcO iS nOt NoRtH aMeRiCa” because i swear i’ll track you down and shove a atlas down your throat!

latin america is not just tropical vibes, dumb bitch!! we have snow too! this is fucking brazil.  and this is argENTINA! 

just remember these facts when writing brazilians: brazil is the second country with the biggest japanese community, second country out of germany with more germans, and get this!! brazil has more lebaneses than lebanon.

latino accent when is speaking english is not just lydia from odaat. it changes. 

english is second or third or fourth (and so it goes) language for latinos. keep in mind that mistakes are made. and most latinos (myself included) love their accent!! we want you to listen to our voice and ask where we’re from, and that gets to: 

WE ARE COCKY! yes, we are very cocky about our culture, get over it! 

most latinos cried/got really happy when parasite won the oscar. now you ask me, why are you writing this on a guide on how to write fucking latinos??? well, my dudes, latinos are tired of imperialism. just that. don’t write a character that worships usa culture (can we call hamburguers and coke culture, my ladies? I DONT THINK SO), even if they moved to usa. “it’s also important to remember that the american dream is sold to all of us, since forever.”

i guess this is it??? just, talk to a latino and ask “is this correct?” when in doubt. we are indeed very energetic and we talk loud and a lot, but we don’t bite. writing us is difficult, you’ll probably get something wrong. but if we see that you did basic research, we will get really happy about it. bye, gringos!

edit 001: this link and this link are great! use them.

edit 002: any fc can be latino! ANY FC CAN BE LATINO! fun fact: the brazilian passport is one of the most expensive ones, because anyone can pass as brazilian. anyone can be latino! wong yukhei? big brazilian energy! madison beer? can be latina. ester expósito? latina. kim taeyeon? I HEAR THE LATINA DRUMS!! idk, kj apa? can be latino too! 

not all latinos are good dancers and not all latin dances are salsa. check “#latinodancecheck” on tiktok, if you have one. 

there are differences between spanish speaking surnames and brazilian ones. first of: the number of surnames changes with the country. second: spanish speaking countries surnames end in “ez”, while brazilian surnames end in “es”. examples: rodriguez, rodrigues; lópez, lopes; hernandez, fernandes; martinez, martins. but sometimes, we exchange surnames. you can find a brazilian with the surname “gonzalez” instead of gonçalves, if their family comes from a spanish speaking country.

this ask sent by the lovely anon! 

this other ask sent another sweet anon!

this.

[ive-garden]

Tag Game!!!!!

I was tagged by @hklnvgl! Thank you Dory!

How many books are too many books in a series? I don't think there is such a thing as too many books in a series as long as the author knows since the start how the story is going to progress (like dory said). I'm not really a fan of books that end in a trilogy, for example, and the author decides to write more because of the success or the pressure (it almost always goes bad for the story).

How do you feel about cliffhangers? They give me a little anxiety so I try to avoid it, but sometimes it's there without you knowing so, what can I do!? (I don't have the patience to wait for all the books to be published when I'm a fan).

Hardback or paperback? Like Dory I'm mostly buying Ebooks now because I don't have space in my house anymore and also because it's easier to read using Kindle! But I do buy the physical copy when the book is special to me and the hardback when the book is EXTRA special! But hardback is not really common here in Brazil, so I started with them now that I'm reading books in English (I do have a few in Portuguese though, very few, 3 or 4?).

Least favorite book? Oh my God, I cannot do this one because I have no idea the last book I didn't like!

Love triangles, yes or no? I'm not a fan but I don't avoid it either! I watch a lot of Kdramas and Anime and they ALWAYS have love triangles, so I'm mostly used to it! The last love triangle I read was a Korean manhwa named Love or Hate and for the first time in my life I didn't know who I wanted the guy to be with!!!!!! Both guys were awesome!

The most recent book you just couldn’t finish? Like Dory I mostly finish all the books I start and lately I'm very picky with the books I read, so it's been a while since I didn't finish one. But I remember not finishing the Fence novel because I wasn't vibing with it like I do with the comics.

A book you’re currently reading? Last night I finished Rare Vigilance by M.A. Grant. It's good. I'm in kind of a vampire vibe right now.

Last book you recommended to someone? The Song of Achilles! I recommended it to my friend because we both love M/M books and there isn't enough in Portuguese (she doesn't speak English, unfortunately).

Oldest book you’ve read? I have no idea!!!! Probably some of the books I read for school? I don't know.

Newest book you’ve read? Newest as in most recent published it was Infernal Sin by Ariana Nash.

Favorite author? I don't really have a favorite author like in I read everything they publish favorite but I do have a few that I know for sure I'm gonna like what they write. Dan Brown, Harlan Coben and Julia Quinn are a few names I remember from the top of my head.

Buying books or borrowing books? I do prefer buying! it's been a while since I borrow a book.

A book you dislike that everyone else seems to love? I'm sure there are a few but I can't think of one right now! Urgh!

Bookmarks or dog ears? Bookmarks! I have a box filled with them! I used to go into bookshops just to grab a few free bookmarks.

A book you can always reread? TRC and Harry Potter are the ones I read the most and the ones I always go back to.

Can you read while listening to music? It depends! I can't read while listening to music in English or Portuguese or even Spanish because I understand what they are saying and it distracts me. But I did find out I can read while listening to Kpop because I don't understand what they are saying! But I prefer not to.

One pov or multiple povs? Whatever, I don't have a preference.

Do you read a book in one sitting or over multiple days? It depends if I have the time and how good the story is! I did read Mister Impossible in one sitting because I mostly didn't work that day. And last weekend I finished the book More Happy Than Not in one sitting without even realizing it! And also finished A Surplus of Light in one sitting but this one just has a few 100 pages.

Who do you tag? No one because I'm super lazy today! :D

[itsmyara]

Playing Cards (SFW Fanfic)

Pairing: Chrollo/Machi (yep!)

Word Count: 1.7 k

Warning: Hisoka acting psycho.

Note: I've recently talked about Kuromachi with @takkarulz and it reminded me of this VERY old fic. It was supposed to be the first chapter of a story about Hisoka's first mission with the Troupe but I don't think I'm gonna continue it. Oh, and it was originally written in Portuguese, so maybe something got lost in translation. I hope not but sorry if it did!

The prey was aware of the bloodlust that emanated from his pores. Hisoka was bored when he felt that random aura and left in pursuit. Granted, it wasn’t a strong aura, but the relative abstinence made him lower his criteria. Any less-than-a-minute fight would offer some relief. The prey was already running ahead, looking back at him now and then in despair. He was sweating, breathing heavily, tripping over his own feet. It was a shame. Even so, the predator felt that in that aura there was an impulse to try to fight back, a courage that could spring from adrenaline and give him some precious extra time to live.

He focused entirely on instilling fear in him, as a favor to awaken that trace of hidden strength, and as a favor for his own sadism.

Fear and death roamed the desolate streets at night, accompanied only by concrete walls, garbage cans overturned by mangy dogs, and abandoned souls, drunken and empty, who wouldn’t dare to approach the source of that terrifying bloodlust.

Hisoka's expression was already inhuman.

The victim turned a corner, looked around, started to run faster. Perhaps he was close to home and struggled to reach it, with that false feeling that at home he would be safe. Poor fool. The predator licked his lips, he wouldn’t allow the prey to gain distance from him. In fact, he didn’t intend to let him free for too long.

Thirsty for action, Hisoka dashed and jumped to reach him faster but when he was in mid-air, something stopped his body, suspending it far from the ground, and a third presence was revealed. A woman fell gracefully in front of him and as soon as her feet touched the ground, her hands pulled a thread, making him realize that the trap had tightened around his body.

The pink-haired woman boldly stepped between him and his victim, and when she looked up and glared at him, her blue eyes were unfazed by his bloodlust. The victim stopped for a moment to try to understand what had happened, but he wasn't stupid enough to stay.

Soon it was only he and her.

Hisoka smiled and sought a comfortable position within her trap. It was worth exchanging the weak prey for that woman who either mastered zetsu very well or knew how to take advantage of his distraction to catch him. Either way, she was incomparably stronger.

“Well, well... and who are you?” His voice sounded mischievous as his eyes sparkled, studying her carefully.

She kept him in her threads without difficulty, as they crossed the deserted street trapped to the side of two buildings, forming a web that closed around him in the center. A spider web. She was skilled and agile to prepare that engineering in such a short time. Besides this, she also had that delightful demeanor. So under control. So cold. So full of an unshakable self-confidence. It wasn’t someone to be thrown away. Maybe he would keep her to play with, little by little, instead of killing her at once.

“I have a message from the boss,” when she said those words, Hisoka understood and closed his eyes. He definitely would have to save her for later. “Midnight at the sanctuary of St. Levi. If you’re too busy hunting mice, you will suffer the consequences.”

A crooked smile grew on the magician's face. Suffering the consequences was what he wanted the most, but not in the way they used to apply them.

“Will the boss be there?” He asked, but his question was ignored.

“I think you can get out of there alone.”

It was the last thing she said before disappearing into the night.

There was a possibility that Chrollo would attend the meeting, but there was also the possibility that it would end up being just another spiders’ meeting that would kill him with boredom at once. He had recently joined the Phantom Troupe for a single purpose, and so far he had successfully avoided childish robberies and meaningless missions, no matter who showed up to try to intimidate him.

An Ace of Hearts took shape between his fingers and he used it to slash the tangled threads that held him. To his surprise, not all of them broke on the first blow, demanding one or two more hits for him to break free completely.

He thought that maybe this time it would be worth it to show up at the meeting if she were there.

***

Their current hideout was a mansion away from the city and with a reputation for being haunted. The abandonment of the building made it cold and fragile, but there was a certain beauty in all those aged memories left by the corners, and in the way nature was taking over the place little by little. In a few years, the creeping plants will probably take it over completely.

Machi entered through the backdoor absolutely quietly, just in case. Soon she realized that there was someone in the basement and she walked down the stairs, equally silent, to find Chrollo sitting on an old wooden chest. By candlelight, he analyzed something on a table in front of him.

“Fascinating... whoever lived here, was someone impressive. It is not by chance that this house has a reputation for being haunted,” he whispered when she approached but kept his gray eyes fixed on the objects spread on the table.

In that room, Machi noticed opaque crystals, rusty metal objects that were supposed to serve very specific uses, animal skulls with horns, and some books so old and yellow that she thought they would turn to dust if she looked at them for too long. She stood next to the boss and realized that what captured his attention were cards, similar to a playing deck, but more numerous and richly illustrated even though -- like everything in that basement -- they were in dull colors.

“Did these objects serve any ritualistic purpose? They must be flooded with nen,” the energy of the place was somewhat obscure, and she thought that maybe this is why he felt comfortable there.

“I haven’t found any trace of nen in this basement,” he said, causing a brief expression of surprise in her. Fascinating, really.

Chrollo finally looked at her, his expression calm and pleasant. His eyes were more mysterious and dark than the energy of the place. By far more fascinating. Eyes that caused her the same feeling, again and again, after so many years.

Perhaps because she was so close that he could feel that commotion inside of her, or perhaps because he was feeling comfortable in that environment, he placed one hand on her waist, while the other held some cards.

“Sit here with me, as we used to do when I read to you,” he said, invoking the past and leading her gently so that she sat on his right thigh.

The memory stirred the feelings inside her even more. She was so young when she found him, a beautiful, intelligent and kind boy, as young as she was, who talked to her, played with her, and cared for her. Chrollo was always different from everyone else. He had ended up awakening in her still innocent heart that dream that he was a prince charming and that they would marry someday, even marriage being such an abstract concept in Meteor City. It turned out that the commitment she had made to him was far greater than that of a marriage.

Enjoying the moment, she rested her arm around his shoulders and studied the cards ahead more closely now.

“Are these tarot cards?” She asked, vaguely recognizing a couple of drawings.

“Yes, it’s the most valuable thing I’ve found here. The style is so unique, each card is a work of art by itself.”

Her eyes met an Arcana and she leaned over to pick it up, almost instinctively. The Fool, with his extravagant clothes and gestures, looking at the horizon from the edge of the abyss, projecting himself to it with nothing to hold him back -- from the infinite fall or from the flight to the horizon. Her intuition led her to believe it would be the first option.

“How was it with him?” Chrollo asked, noticing the card she was looking at so attentively.

“He's strong, I ended up having to set a trap with more aura than I've expected,” she replied almost automatically, only managing to return the card at the end of the sentence.

“He wouldn't have listened to you any other way.”

"No," she confirmed, and then they looked at each other. “The decision is yours, danchou, but I wouldn’t trust him.”

“This is why you didn't bring him here. You’ve decided to wait until tomorrow.”

Chrollo hadn’t told her to take Hisoka to him, he had left the option in the hands of her interpretation. Since the magician was one of them, he belonged -- in theory -- to that place with them, and it would have been natural for her to invite him. But it wasn’t.

Machi knew that sometimes Chrollo let her interpret his orders because he trusted her judgment. And in addition to not having taken him to the boss, she also left promptly so as not to be followed.

“You have been more receptive to new members before,” he said softly.

And the fact that he pulled her to him gently to place a kiss on her temple softened his speech even more.

“Sorry, he seemed to have a special interest in you,” she spoke in a slightly serious tone. Intuition. Concern.

Something that made him snicker as his free hand touched her hair.

“Don’t worry too much, Machi.”

That was the end of the subject brought up by the card. Soon he would touch her thigh and his hand would roam her body. Soon he would show her how comfortable he felt, to the point of allowing himself to enjoy the tenderness that Machi dedicated to him right from her lips, her skin, and her embrace.

[carewyncromwell]

Cinderelly, Cinderelly, night and day, it’s Cinderelly~... ^.^ Okay..before I jump into the next part of the Cinderella AU, here’s your usual appetizer of random historical/etc. notes!

Although carriages were developed centuries earlier, actual coaches like the kind we think of from Cinderella stories were first developed in the late 16th century in Hungary, specifically a little town called Kocs. (The word “coach” and its alternatives in other languages, such as the German Kutsche and the Spanish and Portuguese coche, are thought to have been derived from the Hungarian kocsi, meaning “of Kocs.”) They then really caught on in the rest of Europe after Queen Elizabeth I of England started using them in the 1580s. The terms “coach” and “carriage” are often used interchangeably, but if one wanted to pin-point the advancements coaches specifically made in contrast to carriages of the past, there are a few differences one can pick out in how they’re built. Coaches generally are four-wheeled enclosed vehicles with doors and/or windows (glass was added in later centuries), and often include a “boot” seat on the outside for a footman and/or luggage to sit on. Coaches also generally have a reputation for providing a smoother ride than previous modes of transport because they’re suspended between the wheels rather than directly over or beside them. After the invention of the coach, one can find carriages (royal ones, in particular) adopting some of these same attributes.

Sadly wheelchairs really weren’t a thing in the 16th century. The first self-propelled wheeled chairs were developed in the mid-17th century and refined in the 18th, with sedan chairs or litters (A.K.A. chairs you carried) generally being used by the nobility prior to that. But there’s no way in Hell I’m not going to give McNully the independence he deserves, so I used a completely anachronistic design inspired by this antique wheelchair I found online, made circa around the 1840′s. Hey, this is a fantasy world anyway, so bleh. :P The flower detailing on the wheel is supposed to evoke an emblem I see being on Florence’s green and gold coat of arms (get it? “Florence?” “Flora?”). You might also notice that McNully has little Snitch-like “wing” frills on each of his buttons! XD

Another fun thing I learned while doing research -- although cloaks were often worn for warmth during the medieval period and beyond, in England during the Elizabethan era, their use was actually actively discouraged and even prohibited, as they were associated with criminals and rebels! Therefore it was common for a lot of English noblemen and women to wear thicker clothing made of wool and accessories like muffs, gloves, and even jackets for warmth instead. I tried very, very hard to find historically accurate examples of period-worthy jackets and capes for women around the time of the Renaissance, and was very frustrated to find a lot of fantasy-esque costume pieces or historical clothing from later eras that were simply mislabeled -- but I did find one lovely recreation of a 16th century wool jacket, so that’s what I used as reference for Carewyn’s jacket in this sketch, though I personally imagine it as a dark red, so as to better blend with her burnt orange and beige servant’s uniform. Bill’s uniform is based off a real castle guard uniform from early 16th century France, though with a much simpler color palette (I see Royaume’s colors being blue and red). Like with McNully’s chair, there’s a crown on the chest of Bill’s uniform, which I see being on Royaume’s coat of arms (“royaume” is literally French for “kingdom”).

In her canon, Carewyn was born when Jacob was nine years old. Although in most of Carewyn and Jacob’s canon post-Portrait-Vault, they end up being only two years apart in age, that’s only because Jacob stopped aging while trapped in a Portrait for seven years. From Carewyn’s fifth year on, Jacob and Carewyn in canon therefore act much more like contemporaries, even though Jacob actually kind of ended up partially raising Carewyn alongside their mother Lane.

Previous part is here – whole tag is here – Katriona “KC” Cassiopeia belongs to @kc-needs-coffee and I hope you all enjoy! xoxo

x~x~x~x

Every day over the next week, Carewyn met Orion at the gate of the palace of Royaume, and the two would spend an hour or so together. Orion would ask her about life at the palace, Carewyn would playfully respond, and sooner or later, they’d end up getting diverted and talking about something else completely, whether the upcoming Winter Festival, the language of flowers, art, poetry, the meaning of life, music, fencing, or (after seeing a rather beautiful eagle flying overhead) what it might be like to fly. Carewyn honestly wasn’t entirely sure what Orion got out of their meetings besides entertainment, and naturally she couldn’t afford to indulge in such entertainment too long, when she had so much work to do around the castle and she still had to find out where Jacob was positioned. But she had to admit, with the King and Queen having invited Iris over to stay in one of the guest suites at the palace for the remainder of the month, Carewyn didn’t mind having an excuse to stay far away from her cousin. Lately Carewyn had actively planned her days so that she could clean the guest suites at teatime, when Iris would be in one of the foyers with the King, Queen, and Prince on the opposite side of the palace. She did not want a repeat of the other day, after all...particularly since she’d also need time to change out of the nicer, collared dresses she’d wear when spending time with Orion.

Orion, meanwhile, was of course getting a bit more than entertainment out of his and Carewyn’s meetings. Through speaking with Carewyn, he’d sussed out some very helpful information about Royaumanian culture, the dynamics within Royaume’s royal family, and both their and their country’s financial state. One day he told his closest confidantes at court, Skye and McNully, some of what he’d learned...but Skye didn’t react quite as favorably as Orion had expected.

“...I gave Lady Cromwell a copy of the sheet music for ‘No One is Alone’ last week -- you remember the song, of course? And from what I understand, Prince Henri and the castle staff have quite taken to it. Not that I’m surprised -- Carewyn has a very soothing voice. I’m sure she performed it very well. But the Prince listening to the words at all is a good sign -- I even asked Carewyn if the Prince enjoyed them, and she said she believed so. She also found their message meaningful...one of Florence’s best-loved anti-War songs, and one about looking through another’s eyes and forgiving past grievances, no less! That can only be a good sign, for Royaumanians to take heart in it. It surely must have been fate that Lady Cromwell and I collided at the market -- I had a feeling we were kindred spirits, when she came to my aid, but now I am most assured of it. I might hazard a guess that she wishes for peace just as much as I -- for the sake of her brother fighting in the field, yes, but also selflessly for the sake of others, not wishing to see any other person in pain...”

“She sounds like a perfect knight in shining armor,” said Skye, her voice oddly cutting.

Orion looked up at Skye, startled by her tone. Her arms were crossed over the chest of her faded blue linen dress.

“Anything else you want to tell us about the fair Lady Cromwell,” she said rather icily, “or are you actually ready to talk about how you plan to end this War?”

Orion blinked slowly. “...I thought that we were already discussing that.”

“Really?” scoffed Skye. “‘Cause it sounds to me like you were busy gushing over your new conquest.”

“Conquest?” Orion repeated. His confused tone then melted into something more soothing and indulgent, “Oh -- no, Skye...you misunderstand me. I have no interest in courting Carewyn -- she’s just my contact point, with the palace.”

Skye gave a very loud, disbelieving snort. “Ha! Right, of course she is -- that’s why you can’t stop gushing about ‘Carewyn this’ and ‘Lady Cromwell that.’”

“Skye has a point, Orion,” said McNully, though his voice was a lot less confrontational. If anything he sounded almost sheepish. “I mean, about 85% of your report was about Lady Cromwell. You used her name over ten times just in the span of a minute.”

Amazingly Orion’s calm, hard-to-read expression didn’t crack. His hands clasped lightly in front of him.

“Lady Cromwell plays an essential part in this strategy. I’m an outsider looking in, without her insight -- a ship sailing blindly, without the light from a lighthouse to give me direction.”

“A lighthouse for a lost ship -- oh yeah, those sound like the words of someone who’s focusing on winning a war and not swooning over a pretty face,” said Skye scathingly. “Maybe instead of always running off and playing dress-up, you could actually bother to do your duty and go help fight on the battlefield for once!”

Orion’s lips came together tightly, but it didn’t make his expression any less composed. McNully shot Skye an uncomfortable, faintly disapproving look.

“Easy, Skye,” he murmured. “You know Orion -- ”

But Skye didn’t seem to hear McNully. Instead she tore into Orion.

“Face it, Orion -- you just like being treated like a commoner again and being able to make believe that you don’t have any responsibilities or worries...well, guess what? You’re not a commoner anymore! You’re the Prince of Florence -- you reckon little Miss Knight-in-Shining-Armor would take kindly to that, when she finds out?”

Orion’s dark eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly upon Skye’s face.

“Carewyn’s not an unreasonable woman,” he said softly. “I’m certain she would understand the reason behind my secrecy.”

This, if anything, only seemed to make Skye madder.

“Of course she would,” she muttered sourly. “Little Lady Royaume can do no wrong in your eyes, can she?”

She turned on her heel and stormed out, leaving Orion feeling very resigned and confused. McNully gave a heavy sigh, before facing Orion with a more serious expression.

“She’s overreacting, as usual,” he said, “but she’s still 60% right. It’s risky enough for you to get this close to anyone right now, when your position as Crown Prince is threatened by the likes of Lord Malfoy. He’d frankly love to have something like that over you. But someone from Royaume? The granddaughter of one of the most powerful, wealthy, and feared noblemen in their country? Orion, that’s dangerous.”

Orion leaned his hands on the table, looking down at the map of Florence and Royaume laid out on top of it.

“McNully, I assure you...my objective has not changed,” he said very levelly. “Everything I have done is for Florence -- for peace and balance. I admit, Lady Cromwell is a fascinating woman, and certainly one to be admired...but I spend time with her to gather intelligence I can obtain nowhere else. That is all.”

McNully looked doubtful, but didn’t directly address it. Instead he said, “I understand she’s your eyes and ears inside the palace, and the intelligence you’re getting is valuable...but don’t forget, she isn’t on your team. She’s on Royaume’s. And right now, Royaume is kicking our tail out there, on the battlefield.”

Orion’s dark eyes drifted away from the table as McNully leaned his arms on the table himself.

“It’s getting bad again,” he murmured very seriously. “I know you said the palace of Royaume’s strapped for funds, but somehow or another, they’ve scrounged up enough to get more cannons, and their troops have been moving them around every couple of hours so that our men never know where they’re going to be firing from next. It’s been very effective. Whoever’s been giving Royaume’s King and Queen military strategy lately, they’re a bloody genius.”

McNully clearly was irritated about this, given the flash that shot through his narrowed eyes.

“Your father sent me a request for a counter-strategy this morning. You know it’s likely if the strategy isn’t one he can execute on his own, he may ask both you and me to join him there, on the front lines.”

Orion did not respond. His expression was as unreadable as ever, but there was something oddly detached and avoidant in his posture.

“I know you don’t want that, and you know I have faith in you,” said McNully, “but your strategy is a slow burn, Orion. It requires both patience and time...and we might not end up having as much of those as you think.”

Once again, Orion chose not to answer. McNully sighed again.

“You know I’ll be right behind you in a coach, if you need me,” he said tiredly. “Just...mind that you use your head as well as your heart, all right?”

Orion threw on his black traveling cloak and headed back to Royaume not long after, hoping to meet up with Carewyn for an evening stroll. There was a notable chill in the air -- if it got much colder, he thought that any rain might instead come down as sleet or maybe even snow.

When Orion arrived at the gate, however, he was met not by Carewyn, but by KC. She was dressed in a high-necked gown made of black velvet and holding a leather-bound book and a stack of parchment in her arms.

Orion tilted his head slightly to glance at the piece of parchment on the top of the stack, which had several “X’s” scattered over an oddly familiar map.

“Plans to bury some pirate treasure?” he asked pleasantly.

KC gave a lightly amused snort. “No, just military plans.”

Her lightly freckled face then grew a bit more serious. “I guess you’re here for Carewyn?”

Orion had been ready to ask more about the military plans KC was holding, but decided not to circle back to it when she changed the subject.

“Yes. Has she been detained?”

“I guess so...” said KC. Her lips twisted into a concerned frown as she looked out at the darkening sky.

Orion’s eyebrows knit together over his eyes slightly. “You seem concerned.”

KC bit her lip. “Mm...it’s just...well, you see, one of the royal carriages broke down earlier today, when the Queen was riding through the country with Lady Yaxley.”

Orion raised his eyebrows. “Lady Iris Yaxley, do you mean? Carewyn’s cousin?”

“Yes. No one was badly hurt, fortunately, but the Queen, Lady Iris, and the coachman and footman were forced to ride the horses back and leave the carriage behind. When they got back, they asked the royal carpenter, Charlie Weasley, to go fix it. Charlie said that he probably wouldn’t have the proper tools to fix it here at the castle, so Carewyn offered to ride out with him, so that their horses could drag the coach together to the Weasley family cottage, about forty minutes away. The problem is,” she said with a deepening frown, “they left over two hours ago, and they’re still not back yet. Bill headed out after them on his own horse not long before you got here...he’s Charlie’s brother, so he knows the route they would’ve taken...”

Orion’s dark eyes had narrowed significantly.

“Which road did Sir Weasley take after them?” he asked, his calm voice nonetheless touched with the faintest edge.

KC pointed. “Northwest -- toward the mountains.”

Orion nodded. “Thank you.”

And with this, he turned on his heel and rushed back toward where he thought he might find McNully’s coach. He needed to borrow a horse.

Setting one of the black horses free of the black coach, Orion rode off toward the mountains, his slightly-too-long dark hair flapping freely behind him. The road was well-marked, but it soon veered off into dense woods as it migrated up toward the mountains. Orion had never gone so far west into Royaume before, let alone far from Florence before. Despite himself, he had to acknowledge the beauty of the landscape. The views of the castle below were breathtaking -- it looked as tiny as a toy, and yet the infinite glass windows made it sparkle like some diamond-like beacon in the darkening sky. He wondered if his own palace in Florence looked so beautiful to others, at a distance. As much as he himself hadn’t been raised a prince, it was difficult for him to look at his own palace as anything other than a cage.

As he went further uphill and the sky darkened, it also grew colder. Orion was starting to see his own breath on the air. He thought of Carewyn alone in the cold, perhaps hurt, and had to take several deep breaths to sooth his nerves. He was never in a right state, when he let his thoughts run too wild or his fears chatter too loudly.

Finally Orion caught sight of two familiar ginger-headed men, standing by an overturned coach, covered in mud and missing one of its back wheels. One of the men was the tall, freckled castle guard from the other day who Carewyn called Bill, dressed in his high-collared blue and red patterned uniform tunic and matching white feathered, blue-velvet hat -- the other was much stockier, but no less freckled, dressed in a burgundy-colored tunic and loose brown pants and boots, and he wore his ginger hair in a ponytail not unlike Orion’s when he was at court. When Orion approached them, Bill immediately reacted with suspicion -- Orion explained what KC had told him and asked where Carewyn was, and was incredibly startled to hear her voice coming from over the edge of the cliff.

“I’m down here!”

Orion couldn’t help but feel a flash of concern. He raced over as if to look over the edge, but Charlie lashed out an arm in front of the taller man to stop him.

“Uh, I wouldn’t look over if I were you, mate,” he said, having trouble biting back his laughter despite himself.

He pointed at the broken carriage. Hanging over one of the doors was what looked like the burnt orange and beige skirt of a dress and several wool petticoats.

Orion blinked a few times in great surprise, his tanned cheeks darkening with a faint blush. Bill, however, reacted with anxiety.

“Carewyn!” he shouted over the ravine. “Are you in your underwear down there!?”

“Ugh -- well, I couldn’t very well climb down into this briar patch and wrench this wheel loose in my dress, could I?” Carewyn called back up rather haughtily. “At least my bloomers are slightly akin to the sorts of trousers you all wear.”

“You’ll catch a death of cold out here!” said Bill.

“I’m all right,” Carewyn reassured him. “Ulk -- ugh -- I have the wool jacket Andre made for me on...”

Charlie took a step forward, his eyes moved up toward the darkening sky pointedly so as not to look over the edge as he called down,

“Bill’s right, though, Carewyn -- it’s getting colder by the minute...and it’s getting dark too. Are you sure you can lift that thing up and over all by yourself?”

“Ugh...I admit, it’s a bit difficult!” she called back. “But I think I can manage.”

Recalling Carewyn’s blatant refusal of help in retrieving her horse, Orion -- still fighting back a slight blush -- called over the ravine himself.

“We do not question your capabilities, Carewyn,” he said patiently, “but would you like our help?”

“Ugh -- don’t be silly,” said Carewyn, sounding faintly haughty. “You, Charlie, and Bill would break your necks, climbing down here. And I’m still in my undergarments -- I have no interest in anyone seeing me prance around without proper clothes on, thank you.”

“It’s no use,” Charlie muttered under his breath, “I’ve tried to offer her help for the last hour, but she keeps putting me off, saying she’s fine. I don’t get why she feels like she has to do everything by herself...”

“Probably because she’s always had to, Charlie,” said Bill quietly. His voice betrayed a lot of sympathy and sadness as he exhaled through his nose.

Orion’s black eyes deepened with some compassion for Bill as he called back over the ravine to Carewyn,

“Your points are well made, my lady...but we’d still like to help you.”

“Ugh -- you can help me by leaving me my dignity and not looking over while I’m only half-dressed...ack...”

“Would you accept us doing more than that?”

“Urgh -- I am...sorry to have made you and Bill come out all this way -- but I’m all right, really.”

Bill glanced at Orion out the side of his eye, and then back at the cliff. Despite his distrust of the man, the eldest Weasley was sort of glad he wasn’t the only one who disliked how reticent Carewyn was to accept help.

“You don’t need to apologize,” he said earnestly. “I was -- we were worried about you, Carewyn. You and Charlie.”

He and Orion glanced at each other. Bill wished the other man’s expression wasn’t so hard to read. The castle guard tried to twist his uncomfortable frown into a smile that Carewyn would hopefully be able to hear over the edge of the cliff.

“Come on...let’s get you and that wheel up and over so you can get back into your dress.”

There was a silence. Then Carewyn said a bit more quietly,

“...You don’t need to worry about me.”

“Wha -- oh, come off it, Carewyn!” said Charlie exasperatedly. “To hell we do! You think I was mucking about, calling you my pal and saying I needed to figure out a nickname for you? Now let us help you, or I’ll consider making that nickname an irritating one!”

There was another silence. Then Carewyn sighed very loudly and tiredly, and Orion couldn’t help but grin, because he could tell she’d finally given in.

“Oh, all right,” she said begrudgingly. “But I don’t really know how you’re going to help, when you can’t look at me.”

Orion closed his eyes.

“Describe your surroundings, Carewyn,” he said. “Paint a picture for me, with your words.”

“...Well, I’ve gotten the wheel out of the briar patch. I’m trying to roll it back up, but it’s as large as me, and the downward slope and the ice is making it difficult. Plus the wheel isn’t in great shape -- all of its spokes are broken, so there isn’t much for me to push up on, while rolling it uphill.”

“I would’ve told her to just forget it, but it’d be much easier for me to carve a new wheel if I have framework from the old one,” Charlie explained. “I’m already going to have to make the new spokes and hubcap completely out of wood instead of using any gold or metalwork, but it’s still going to take a lot of time...even more so if the old wheel framework can’t be saved...”

Orion considered the matter, visualizing the set-up down below on the inside of his eyelids. “...What’s left of the wheel...is it made of metal or wood?”

“Wood...but there seems to be some sort of metal lining around the rim, held on by nails.”

“That’d be for durability, I reckon,” said Charlie. “Wood alone would get chaffed badly on the ground, moving in a constant circle down cobblestones or over anything rocky.”

Orion opened his eyes and looked over the broken coach. His gaze lingered on the thick leather straps coming off of the front that no doubt would’ve attached it to their horses. Then he abruptly got up, rushing over to undo the straps from the carriage.

“What are you doing?” said Bill, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

Orion quickly knotted the long, thick leather straps together with several complex-looking and strong knots.

“Carewyn,” he called over very calmly, “I’m going to lower this down to you -- use the buckle and loop it securely around the inside rim of the wheel, so that it’s tight. Give it a light tug when it’s secure.”

He blindly tossed one end of the rope made out of leather straps over the edge of the cliff. After a minute, he felt a light tug at the end.

“Gentlemen,” Orion murmured to the Weasleys, “I’ll need you to hold this, for just a moment. Carewyn,” he added, as Charlie and Bill both grabbed the end of the makeshift rope and he let go, “I’m going to need you to step onto the wheel yourself and hold on.”

“What?” said Carewyn. “Orion, you can’t lift both me and the wheel -- it’s far too much! I’ll climb up and out myself -- ”

“Not to worry, my lady -- none of us will be doing the lifting,” said Orion serenely.

He led both his black horse and Bill’s chestnut horse over by their reins, and -- taking the makeshift rope from Bill and Charlie again -- he looped the end under the straps of both his and Bill’s saddles. He gave several tugs at all of the connections to make sure they were tight and secure before mounting his horse.

“Sir Weasley, if you would assist me.”

Catching onto Orion’s idea at last, Bill rushed forward so he could jump up onto his own horse.

“Mr. Weasley, you may want to have your hands ready to help Carewyn climb out when she gets close to the top,” said Orion over his shoulder. “Sir Weasley, together now.”

With a lot of effort and strain, the two horses were able to lift Carewyn and the broken wheel up and out of the ravine. Once Carewyn was out, all three men averted their eyes so she could put her dress back on. Once she was suitably redressed in her orange-and-beige dress, snood, and dark scarlet wool jacket, she, Bill, and Orion helped Charlie secure some makeshift posts he’d carved out of some nearby tree branches under the broken coach so that their four horses could lift it up off the ground and help support it without its second back wheel. Then the four hobbled the coach up the mountain the rest of the way to the Weasley family cottage.

The home of the Weasley family, affectionately nicknamed “the Burrow,” was built up against the side of a hill. Attached to the house was a large farm with sprawling pastures and short, rustic wooden fences. Its roof had clearly been patched up multiple times over the years with whatever kind of wood was on hand, making it resemble a patchwork quilt.

When the group arrived, Bill and Charlie’s youngest sibling and only sister Ginny immediately ran out to greet them -- she’d seen them coming up over the horizon and was beyond thrilled to see that it was her eldest brothers. Bill and Charlie’s teenage brothers Percy, Fred, George, and Ron soon followed along after. Fred and George -- who were identical twins -- were quick to crow that Charlie had brought them an early birthday present (namely, the coach), and Percy scolded them that clearly it was for work and they should let it alone. Orion and Carewyn ended up staying back at a distance, both faintly baffled by the amount of warmth and noise emanating from the seven siblings as they chattered amongst themselves, constantly stepping on each other’s feet and interrupting what everyone else was saying. Neither of them had ever encountered a family quite like this before. When Bill and Charlie’s parents, Arthur and Molly Weasley, emerged from the house, however, Molly very quickly bustled every last one of them inside, including Orion and Carewyn.

“In you go, the lot of you,” she said in a forceful, but very warm tone of voice. “You all look like you need some supper-- ”

“Oh -- no, Mrs. Weasley,” said Carewyn very quickly, “I couldn’t impose -- ”

“Nonsense, dear!” said Molly, as she took Carewyn’s hands and led her inside. “Why, you’re positively freezing! To think, you came all the way out here without a proper muff for your hands...”

“I had to help Charlie with the carriage,” Carewyn said, her eyes drawn away awkwardly rather than looking at Molly, “I couldn’t hope to have my hands free, using a muff...”

“Then both of you should come inside and get warm,” said Arthur, startling Orion with an amiable clap on the back. “Any friend of Bill and Charlie’s is a friend of our family.”

Carewyn had never been the subject of such coddling and generosity before in her life. Her mother had always taught her to treat people with respect and compassion, of course, but she had been a soft-spoken and understated person, and their family life had always been very quiet. And of course at the Cromwell estate, it had been less modest and quiet, but far less affectionate as well. Never had she ever visited such a loud, crowded, and faintly uncomfortable place that still nonetheless felt like a home, full of warmth and love.

Even Orion found himself feeling a bit unsettled by the Weasley family’s overwhelming hospitality. He’d been in plenty of unruly, crowded, and loud settings like this before -- but none of them had ever been quite this...well, jovial. It made it so that Orion yearned for peace, quiet, and returned distance, and yet also couldn’t help but marvel at the positive vibes that rippled off of this family and how much they could give, despite clearly having so little. When dinner was served, Orion had to politely decline a bowl of beef stew because he didn’t eat meat, and Molly Weasley immediately handed the bowl off to Ron so she could set about making Orion his own plate, piled high with cheesy mashed potatoes, sauteed mushrooms, and roasted cauliflower seasoned with garlic and chives.

The Weasley family and their guests sat in an uncomfortable, messy half-circle around the large brick fireplace, laughing and talking as they ate. After supper came the dessert of hot, fresh apple dumplings, and after dessert came some hot tea and scones. After all, said Molly Weasley, having guests over was a rare treat, so they were going to celebrate appropriately. Neither Carewyn nor Orion could remember ever having felt so full in all their lives.

As everyone enjoyed their scones and tea, stories and songs were swapped around the fire. At one point in the evening, twelve-year-old Ginny -- who was perfectly thrilled to have another girl around, for a change -- begged Carewyn to sing for them. Apparently Bill had told his family all about her lovely voice. So, with some encouragement from Charlie, Arthur, and Molly, Carewyn bit back a broad, amused grin, took a deep breath, and started to sing.

“Mother cannot guide you...now you’re on your own.

Only me beside you -- still, you’re not alone...”

Orion had thought to himself that Carewyn must have done the song from his youth proper justice while singing for the Prince, but hearing her sing it in person, seeing her smile at him and her eyes sparkle as she did so...it was a completely different matter. As before, Orion felt all of the tension in his shoulders ebb off of him, as easily as dirt was washed away in warm water. He bowed his head and closed his eyes, tilting his head a bit so that he could hear her better, as his breathing and heart rate slowed. Even with his eyes closed, he could hear a smile in every word Carewyn sang...even when she likely wasn’t smiling at all, he thought. How could she be smiling, when lines like “sometimes people leave you half-way through the wood” and “people make mistakes -- fathers, mothers” rang with such emotion and pain? Was that pain visible on her face? Orion thought not, given Carewyn’s sense of grace and composure...but he heard it, all the same. He felt it -- her heart, aching with a kind of deep, blazing empathy Orion had never encountered in anyone else before.

When Carewyn came to the end of the song, Orion opened his eyes at last. The Weasleys all clapped, delighted, but he barely heard them as he turned to Carewyn.

“...That was remarkable,” he murmured.

Carewyn smiled. “I’m glad you think I did it justice.”

“Mm,” said Orion. “I’ve...never heard anyone drown like that, before.”

Carewyn couldn’t bite back a laugh. “Perhaps I didn’t do it justice then, if I sounded like I was drowning...”

“You were drowning in the words’ meaning,” corrected Orion. “Enveloping and submerging yourself in them -- allowing them to pull you in and take your breath away.”

He smiled, his black eyes very soft upon Carewyn’s face.

“It was...very moving.”

Molly’s face spread into an indulgent smile as she reached forward and patted Carewyn’s hand. “It was absolutely beautiful, dear.”

“Orion’s right, Carewyn,” agreed Arthur. “Your feelings really came through. I could tell the words mean something to you.”

Carewyn offered a polite smile, even as her eyes drifted away. “...I suppose they do.”

“It sounds like a lullaby, sort of,” mused Ron. “Even if it talks about your mother not being around.”

Ginny tilted her head toward Carewyn, Ron’s words prompting concern.

“...Do you not have a mother, Carewyn?”

The rest of the family went very quiet -- some like Percy shot Ginny warning looks, while others like Molly and Ron couldn’t help but glance at Carewyn in similar concern.

Carewyn’s gaze had drifted off onto the fire. Although she was turned away and her face was stoic, however, Orion could see her eyes rippling like turbulent ocean water, before she closed them solemnly.

“...I had one,” she answered softly at last. “She died when I was twelve.”

“Was she sick?” asked Ron, very hesitantly.

Carewyn bowed her head and gave a single, silent nod. Everyone in the room knew what that meant. The Plague had swept through both Royaume and Florence several times, over the span of the War -- one of the worst years was about nine years ago now...probably the same year Carewyn had lost her mother.

Orion’s black eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly upon her face. Molly looked like she wanted to envelop Carewyn in the biggest hug and was only holding back the urge because of her husband’s tight, reassuring squeeze to her hand.

“Oh, you poor dear,” she murmured.

Carewyn raised her head at last, her expression once again touched by a small, resilient, pretty smile.

“It’s all right,” she said gently, her eyes only briefly grazing each of the Weasleys’ faces. “I’ll always miss my mother...but I’m getting along all right. And I still have Jacob.”

“Your brother?” asked Percy, and Carewyn nodded.

“He left for War the same day he and I moved in with our grandfather,” Carewyn explained.

“Your brother must be quite a bit older than you, then,” said Orion.

Carewyn glanced at Orion out the side of her eye, smiling slightly. “Nine years older, yes. You know...you actually remind me of him, a bit.”

Orion raised his eyebrows. “Oh?”

Carewyn was forced to stifle a giggle behind her hand. “Jacob is also the sort to do things in his own clever way. Only he’s a lot more aggressive than you -- and more talkative, and arrogant, and overprotective...”

“And uglier,” inserted Fred.

“And smellier,” added George.

“With a long crooked nose and ears like a bat’s.”

The younger Weasley siblings were all laughing now. Carewyn had to cover her mouth to stifle her giggling.

“No!” she choked. “I don’t mean it like that! He’s wonderful, really. He’s just...well, an absolute idiot about how to interact with other people. He’s completely brilliant, mind you -- he could give you whole lectures about anything from geography to mathematics to physics...but coming up with spontaneous gifts for no occasion at all, just based on someone’s interests? He’d need some prodding, to do something like that.”

She smiled at Orion, who couldn’t help but grin fully in return.

“It was truly nothing at all, Carewyn,” he said. “With your love of music, it felt like that song would be something you would appreciate.”

Arthur glanced at Orion curiously. “Where is that song from, Orion? I’ve never heard it before.”

“I learned it as a boy,” Orion answered. “I would hear it sung outside the window of the workhouse, sometimes.”

Molly looked very troubled. “Workhouse? Orion dear, you don’t mean to say you grew up in one of those terrible places?”

Orion felt Carewyn’s gaze on him. When he looked back at her, her almond-shaped blue eyes were rippling with concern as well, though much gentler and more empathetic than Molly’s. He tried to offer her a smile.

“Let’s just say the words spoke to me as well, at the time,” he said lightly. “Not just to me, either...all of the boys there, one way or another, were where they were because of other people’s ‘terrible mistakes.’”

Orion’s gaze drifted down to his own hands as he lightly clasped them in his lap.

“...The War doesn’t touch you the same way here, but...the closer you are to Florence...the more the reality of it hits you in the face, every day. Even when you’re not on the battlefield itself -- even when you’re just at the border -- you, and the ones you care for, run the risk of getting caught in the crossfire. And on the border of Florence and Royaume...in those towns where it’s hard to tell where one country starts and another begins...tensions are like gunpowder. One spark from the tiniest match can set it ablaze -- can make everything implode, and force you to start all over again.”

His face was unreadable, but his black eyes were endless, rippling with the recollection of the fire and smoke -- the red and blue colors of Royaume, on the saddles of horses -- the life leaving his mother’s eyes -- his own heavy, terrified hyperventilating...

He closed his eyes and took several very deep, measured breaths before continuing.

“In such a place...one can find people desperate enough to want to lash out at others, to avenge their pain,” said Orion solemnly. “But there was one sweet old woman who owned a flower and herb shop near the workhouse. She’d had to rebuild her establishment several times over the years, and from what I understand, she finally had to leave town not long after I did...but every time she caught wind that the army was coming to town, looking for new recruits...she’d sing the song just loudly enough that we boys could hear it through our window.”

He absently played with the crudely carved circular charm on the cord around his neck in one hand.

“And although there were those who still enlisted afterwards...many others did not.”

Carewyn’s eyes widened.

“‘While we’re seeing our side,’ ” she sang again, more softly, “‘maybe we forgot...they are not alone. No one is alone.’ ”

Orion’s lips spread into a smile as he looked at Carewyn, his black eyes rippling gently as he nodded.

“So it’s against the War, then,” murmured Charlie. He glanced at his parents, who both looked concerned.

“Did that woman with the flower shop give you that?” asked Ginny curiously, indicating the charm around Orion’s neck.

“Yes,” said Orion. “She gave it to me one night when I tried to run away, to soothe my nerves. Its effects wore off by the next morning, but I’ve never really had the heart to throw it out.”

Percy sputtered, looking very pale. “Th-then she was a witch?”

“Whoa,” said Fred and George, looking almost too eager.

“Did she turn all the army into pigs?” asked George.

“Did she lure you in and try to cook you in a soup?” said Fred.

Orion smiled indulgently. “Of course not -- ”

“Well, thank Heavens for that!” said Molly, shooting the twins a very reproachful look. “Magic isn’t something to make fun of, you two -- it’s frankly a wonder you weren’t hurt, dear...”

Orion frowned. “There was no danger, Madam Weasley, I assure you.”

“No danger! Orion,” Molly scolded him indulgently, “I applaud your courage...but nature has its own way of things, and any magic that twists it out of shape is more dangerous than it’s worth.”

To the Weasley family’s surprise, Carewyn actually spoke up.

“Mrs. Weasley, men tend fields, plant seeds, domesticate horses and dogs...treat illnesses and injuries...cut hair and wear makeup and put on heeled shoes to make ourselves appear taller. Would that not also be twisting nature’s intent?”

Molly actually faltered somewhat. “Well, yes, but...that’s very different from magic, Carewyn! Magic is...well, it’s wild. Uncontrollable.”

“It’s untamed chaos,” said Arthur more levelly than his wife. “A kind that’s done a lot more harm than good.”

“But it still can be used for good,” said Carewyn very firmly. “And if it has that potential, why must we treat it as though it and all of its users are inherently reprehensible? If magic can be used to save lives, or heal the sick, or even just calm a scared boy down after something horrible...”

She glanced at Orion out the side of her eye.

“...Then it seems to be like any other weapon or tool, or even any other person -- something that could protect or hurt.”

Orion felt like his heart was being flooded with warmth, and his entire expression melted with pride and something like affection as he stared at Carewyn.

She truly is a woman to be admired. The memory of Skye’s irritation and McNully’s warning rippled over Orion’s mind and he found himself faltering. Admire...yes. Anyone could grow to admire such a woman, couldn’t they? To respect and esteem her...to...grow an attachment, to her... Even I? Could I...?

The Weasleys exchanged uncertain looks amongst themselves.

“Come to think of it,” said Ron thoughtfully, “wasn’t there that old myth about fairy godmothers who grant you wishes?”

Fred brought an arm roughly around his younger brother’s neck and put him in a rough choke hold. “Aww, ickle Ronnie wanting a pwetty new dress?”

“‘Oh fairy godmother, I just gotta have a new dress for the Winter Festival!’” said George in a high-pitched squeal.

“Geroff!” growled Ron, as he pulled free.

“Oh, but that would be fun!” sighed Ginny. “Dancing at the Winter Festival, in the prettiest dress you’ve ever seen...you’re going to the Festival, aren’t you, Carewyn?”

“Probably not, Ginny,” said Carewyn gently, “I’ve got so much work to do...”

“Oh, but you have to!” whined Ginny. “The Festival’s tradition! Right, Orion?”

“So I’ve heard,” Orion said modestly, “but I’m afraid I’ve never attended a Winter Festival either.”

“What?!” said all of the Weasley children except Bill in thoroughly aghast unison.

“It’s the biggest celebration of the entire year -- ”

“Everybody in town will be there -- ”

“ -- well, aside from the noble tarts -- ”

“ -- but hey, who needs them?”

“Everybody makes the best mince pies and hot apple cider -- ”

“There’s dancing and singing and games and gift-giving -- ”

“You just can’t miss it -- ”

Before long, they’d completely gotten off the topic of magic all together, so the Weasleys could tell Orion all about the Winter Festival. Carewyn took the opportunity to start carrying dishes into the kitchen so that she could help Molly clean up. While she did so, Bill pulled her aside.

“Carewyn...can I talk to you? Alone?”

Carewyn blinked, but nonetheless put down the dishes she was carrying and followed Bill off into a secluded corner.

“What’s wrong?” she asked in concern.

Bill bit the inside of his lip, his brown eyes drifting over in the direction of the fireplace where the rest of his family was sitting with Orion.

“Carewyn,” he said slowly, “who is that man, really?”

Carewyn’s eyebrows knit together. Bill ran a hand over the undone collar of his tunic absently.

“He’s hiding something, I know it. And I’m sure you see it too. He dodges questions he doesn’t want to answer, and as much as he’s even told us tonight about himself, he never gives important details. He lived near the border, but he didn’t mention what town he’s from. He lived in a workhouse, presumably after losing his parents, but he never said what he lost them to.”

“Those things might not be easy for him to talk about, Bill,” Carewyn said softly.

“Yes,” said Bill in a bracing voice, “but he also hopped the walls of the palace, completely ignorant of how tight royal security is and why, has enough time to chase after you most every day, and gets paints from people he can’t identify and learns songs from people who, from the sound of things, practice witchcraft.”

Bill crossed his arms. He clearly was trying to be considerate to Carewyn’s feelings, but couldn’t hold back his concerns.

“Look, I...I understand you like the man. And I understand why -- Ginny and the others seem to have taken to him pretty well, too. But there’s no reason for someone to hold back that many secrets, unless they’re up to no good. He could be a cad, or a criminal, or maybe even something worse. Judging by his stance on magic, he could even be a magician himself...”

His brown eyes narrowed slightly upon Carewyn’s face.

“I’m just...worried about you, that’s all,” he said lowly.

Carewyn considered Bill for a long moment. Then, reaching out a hand, she gently took hold of Bill’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

“Bill...I understand how you feel. And I’m grateful, truly grateful, for your caring. I hardly deserve it, and it...it means a lot to me.”

Bill frowned deeply, ready to say something, but Carewyn cut him off.

“But believe me when I say that people don’t just keep secrets because they mean to do harm. Sometimes -- for some people -- they’ve had to learn to hide themselves and shield their hearts...so much so that even when they encounter good people, it’s hard for them to let their guard down. Sometimes they’ve known so much pain that, even though they’re kind people, they’ve numbed themselves to a degree, just to protect themselves. Lied so much...that it becomes second-nature. Or worse, lie because they don’t know who they can really trust...because so many people have hurt them that they don’t know what trust even feels like anymore.”

Bill’s expression lost some of its edge, though it still looked wary.

“...And if he is a magic user?”

“Then he’s one of the good ones,” said Carewyn firmly.

Bill still looked a bit unsure. Carewyn squeezed his shoulder a bit more tightly, her eyes resting there instead of on his face.

“Bill, my brother is only alive, thanks to magic.”

Bill was startled.

“The Plague swept through our whole house,” said Carewyn lowly. “First the landlord and his family -- then my mother...and then Jacob. We were living hand-to-mouth, and I didn’t have anyone else to go to...so I went to the Cromwell estate.”

Bill’s brown eyes became a little smaller, darkening with grim understanding.

“...You went to your grandfather.”

Carewyn nodded. “He disowned Mum long ago, but he was still our family, so I thought he might be willing to help us. He agreed to take Jacob and me in and nurse Jacob back to health, so long as we paid back his generosity. Grandfather then tracked down a witch who could cast a spell to save Jacob’s life.”

Bill’s eyebrows furrowed. “Lord Cromwell hired a -- ?”

“Do not repeat this, Bill!” Carewyn said very sharply and urgently. “To anyone, do you understand? No one.”

Her eyes then softened visibly, becoming grimmer and sadder.

“Jacob was dying. There was no other option.”

Bill looked like he was in pain, just hearing this second-hand. He swallowed, and then gave a nod.

“So that witch saved your brother’s life,” he said quietly.

Carewyn nodded, her eyes full of emotion despite the stoicism of her features.

“The spell she cast bound Jacob’s life to Grandfather’s will. Jacob was brought into the house on a stretcher just after dawn, and within a half-hour...he was up on his own two feet again.”

Carewyn closed her eyes. She could still remember Jacob’s blazing, relieved smile as he barreled down the stairs and threw his arms around her, cradling her like a baby.

“My Wyn -- my sweet Wyn -- ”

Not long after that, though...Jacob’s arms were yanked away -- all of him was yanked away -- held back by Blaise and Claire and Pearl’s husbands, who all had work to together just to restrain Jacob as he fought to reach her, screaming and raging like a mad man --

“WYN! NO! GET OFF OF ME -- WYN! I WON’T LET YOU -- CAREWYN!”

Carewyn opened her eyes, the soft longing fading from her face completely and leaving a much more stony expression behind.

Bill himself, however, looked more troubled than ever.

“You said your brother left for War the same day you and he arrived at the Cromwell estate,” he whispered shakily. “Do you mean that, right after saving your brother’s life...Lord Cromwell immediately sent him off to War -- all while knowing how few men return home alive?”

Carewyn’s lips came together tightly.

“Grandfather sent him to the front, so that Jacob could start paying back the debt I owed him,” she said, her voice very soft and oddly distant. “After all...a man who wouldn’t die, so long as he willed it...would make an excellent soldier.”

Bill looked horrified.

“Then...” he whispered, “...then Jacob’s only alive because your grandfather decides whether he lives or dies? You only know your brother’s still alive after so many years at war...because Lord Cromwell is bound to him through magic, and he’s holding his life over your head?”

Carewyn withdrew her hand from Bill’s shoulder and turned away.

“Carewyn...that’s monstrous!” said Bill, and he was unable to keep his voice from rising. “I didn’t even know magic could do something like that -- but -- but that’s nothing, compared to...”

He couldn’t restrain himself. He actually threw an arm around Carewyn and pulled her into a hug from behind. The small ginger-haired woman stiffened like a startled cat.

“Bill?”

Carewyn looked up at him -- were those tears, in his eyes?

“Have you...never told anyone else, about this?” Bill murmured.

Carewyn tried to turn around, her blue eyes welling up with regret and pain. “Bill...”

She brought a hand through his hair, trying to soothe him the way she used to for Jacob.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I -- I didn’t mean to upset you -- I only wanted to explain why I’m not scared of magic...please forgive me.”

Bill closed his eyes to try to hold back both his righteous anger and his tears.

“Forgive you?” he repeated in a choked voice. “For what, trusting me with the truth?”

“For making you worry unnecessarily,” Carewyn said forcefully, trying to ignore how uncomfortably her stomach was squirming.

Bill opened his eyes, looking both flabbergasted and more upset than ever. “Unnecessarily?”

He roughly grabbed both of Carewyn’s shoulders and forced her to look up at him.

“Now you listen here, Carewyn Cromwell,” he said, taking on the sort of tone he only ever used with his younger siblings when they were being rowdy, “you may get to decide if you want to interact with me or not, or rely on me or not, or accept my help or not. But you don’t get to decide whether I worry about you or not. And from here on out...”

Bill’s brown eyes were blazing with resolve.

“...I’m going to worry about you. Because I hate the thought of someone feeling like anybody else worrying about them is somehow a problem.”

Carewyn was left speechless.

Bill’s face broke into a broad smile through his tears. “Until your brother’s back from the War, Carey, I’ll be looking after you for him -- no arguments, no dismissals, no saying you’re fine on your own. Got it?”

Carewyn looked at Bill, perfectly stunned. Then her gaze fell away toward the floor.

“...It sounds like...I really don’t get a choice in the matter, then,” she whispered.

“Nope,” said Bill, grinning broadly.

Carewyn was unable to fight back the weak smile prickling at the sides of her lips, nor the emotion flooding her eyes, even as she kept her face turned away.

“...And I suppose ‘Carey’...is a suggestion of a nickname you plan to give Charlie, for me?”

Bill’s eyes sparkled fondly. “Well, every one of my siblings has a nickname, in case you haven’t noticed.”

[idyoma]

How to Learn Portuguese: The Best Resources For Learning Portuguese

The Best Resources For Learning Portuguese

Super excited to learn Portuguese but have absolutely no idea where to start? Don’t worry, we got you!

There is a multitude of ways to learn Portuguese online and offline, including apps like Idyoma. You can choose from a variety of language learning methods when you get started, but the most important thing at the beginning of your language journey is to arm yourself with resources.

Yes, resources are going to be your magic weapon as you learn how to fluently speak Portuguese. Here’s a list of the best resources for learning Portuguese that we recommend.

These Books Are The Best Resources For Learning Portuguese

These language learning books are special because they’re some of the best resources for learning Portuguese that you’ll have on hand most of the time. There’s something special about having a physical copy of a book to read, but we recommend getting these in either physical, audiobook format, or e-reader format. 

Find out what format works best for your learning style and buy your books in that as often as you can. 

Portuguese As A World Language

All in one volume this book gives you the benefit of Brazillian and European Portuguese language courses. This book is huge, so it makes it worth the price tag even though there are cheaper (and thinner) alternatives out there.

Portuguese Short Stories For Beginners

This book perfectly brings together Brazillian culture with easy-to-understand Portuguese language as a way to help you practice your Portuguese reading and comprehension skills.

Apps That Are The Best Resources For Learning Portuguese

Apps are a great resource for learning Portuguese because of their portability. Learn wherever you are - on the train, on a plane (to Portugal!), or in bed. 

Drops

This language learning app is one of the best resources for learning Portuguese because of its simple premise. Learn the basics with the easy memorisation technique of flashcards. This is an incredibly accessible app and is useful right from the start to the end of your language learning journey into Portuguese fluency.

Idyoma

What can we say, our users love being able to match with a real-life native Portuguese speaker on Idyoma. Speaking comfortably, casually, and often with a native language speaker is one of the best ways to commit a new language to memory.

One Of The Best Resources For Learning Portuguese - Podcasts

Buying a book or an app might not be for you just yet, but podcasts can be one of the best resources for learning Portuguese because they’re free.

These podcasts offer segmented classes at varying levels of fluency, so download and get started while you make the dinner or just sit and relax as you listen.

Portuguesepod101

This Youtube page has 150,000+ subscribers, so PortuguesePod101 is the place to go to get your podcast fix for Portuguese lessons, tips, and FAQs.

Todo Mundo Pod

We love Todo Mundo Pod because its lesson transcripts are free, making the Portuguese language even more accessible for a wider audience. 

[kiarcheo]

A Whole New World    2/10

Jane and Kat find out there is more to each other…and to the new world they have found themselves in.

Read on Ao3 too

AN: I have seen Anne’s date of birth ranging from 1501 to 1507, and Jane’s between 1504 and 1509. For the sake of this story I consider Anne born in 1501 and consequently dying at 35, and Jane being born in 1508 and dying at 28.

Kat came back at 18 and Jane at 22, Anna, Cathy and Anne in their late twenties, and Catalina in her early thirties.

                               ——————————————–

It becomes a regular thing. Sometimes it’s a museum Kat has already visited, sometimes a new one on the list she keeps of places she wants to see. They often make a day of it, treating themselves to lunch (usually at Jane’s initiative, since Kat tends to forego eating in favour of whatever has caught her interest), exploring parts of the city unknown to them.

One evening, close to dusk, they are walking through an empty park when Kat stops. ‘Have you ever wanted to try them out?’

‘Try what?’ Jane follows the direction of Kat’s gaze. ‘That?’

‘They look like fun.’

‘They are for children.’

‘Who said that? Besides, there are no children around...’  Kat trails off, eyebrow raised waiting for a response.

‘You know what? Why not?’

Kat lets out a small squeal before grabbing Jane’s hand and dragging her towards the playground.

‘Remember when you said “who said that they are just for children”?’ Jane asks as they are sitting on the platform, feet dangling down, recovering their breath and cooling down.

‘You mean, like, half an hour ago?’

‘Smartass.’ Jane gives her a look, before pointing to a sign. ‘Children’s Play Area. Only children under the age of 12 may use this play area.’

‘Well, technically we haven’t been back for that long?’

Jane shakes her head amused. Kat is so cheeky and she would have never guessed before spending so much time with her.

‘So what was your favourite part?’ she asks after a bout of silence. That is another thing that changed. Before, silent moments were much more common and awkward, now their quiet spells are rarer and yet infinitely more comfortable.

‘You falling off those.’ Kat motions with her head towards the monkey bars, getting a glare in response. ‘What about yours?’

‘The slides, I’d say.’

‘Yeah, they are nice. But too short, don’t you think?’

‘I know, right? By the time you pick up speed, you’re already at the end,’ Jane agrees. ‘They should make them longer. Adult-sized.’

‘Wait!’ Kat whips out her phone. ‘Let me...’

And Jane lets her. She has learnt that Kat's curiosity is insatiable. If she stumbles upon something she doesn’t know or doesn’t understand…she has to look it up. So many times, when their fellow queens mention (usually complain, actually) that Kat is always glued to her phone, Jane has been tempted to tell them that most of the time she is learning something new...but if Kat had not told them – not even if she would probably spare herself their scolding – then it’s not her place to tell them.

‘They exist!’ Kat exclaims angling the screen towards Jane. ‘Look! They even have playgrounds for adults!’

They look together at the photos for a while before Kat taps on a Wikipedia link, her first port of call every time. ‘Amusement parks,’ she starts to read the entry aloud before being interrupted by a text notification popping up on the screen.

Kat groans as she reads it.

‘What?’

‘Curfew,’ Kat sighs. ‘Apparently it’s late and they are wondering why I’m not home yet.’ She knows it’s because they care but... ‘Did you get one too?’

Jane checks her phone. ‘No.’

Kat sighs again. ‘One dies young once and she is forever treated like a baby.’ She notices the look Jane is sending her. ‘Please don’t start.’

‘I didn’t say anything.’

‘I can't make a joke that everyone freaks out thinking I’m depressed or having a breakdown or a flashback or something.’

Jane remembers clearly one of those occasions. They had been discussing nightmares and how everyone seemed to have them except Kat, who had commented that perhaps losing her head had meant losing everything that had been inside that too. She also remembers very clearly thinking that the reactions had been a bit disproportionate compared to Kat’s offhand tone and casual demeanour.

‘Sometimes a girl just wants to be self-deprecating. Or joke about her own death without being psychoanalysed and having people wanting to talk about your trauma.’

‘I get it. I said once that I had no time with Edward. I was just...stating a fact. I was not looking for pity or anything. But they tripped over themselves to reassure me that I was still his mother – which of course! – and that I’m still a mother now. And honestly. One has a child once and she is forever just a mother in everyone’s eyes. Don’t get me wrong. I wish I could have seen Edward grow up. Wish I could have been his mother. Properly. But I wasn’t. And out of all of us, I’m the one who had less time with children. Besides you, I was the youngest one to die. So I have no idea why everyone thinks of me as this motherly figure?’

Aware that she has been ranting, Jane chances a look at Kat, who has a peculiar expression on her face.

‘What?’ she asks, feeling self-conscious.

‘I’m just thinking how happy I am that you joined me that day at the museum.’

That had been the true start of their relationship, despite having lived together for many months prior to that.

‘You mean you're happy I caught you sneaking out?’

Jane knows what she means, though. They would have never thought, and even less found, they had so many things in common. Or that they could get along so well and have so much fun together.

‘I was not sneaking out.’

Jane merely looks at her.

‘I thought nobody was home. It was just out of habit.’

‘So all the other times you sneaked out.’

Kat doesn’t reply, knowing Jane is doing it just to annoy her. They had a similar talk the second time they went to a museum together, Jane asking why they were sort of hiding their trip. It was not that Kat thought they would stop her if they knew she was going out. But she just didn’t want to deal with their questions. About where she was going, why, why she was going alone, when she was coming back...Just easier to leave without them knowing and then simply tell them she had been out if they asked having noticed she had not been home. In their defence, they knew better than to pry and as long as she was home safely, they would let it go despite being curious.

/

‘I know you’re the one in charge of our museum days,’ Jane starts, ‘but I wanted to run an idea by you.’

‘Of course we can go to a museum of your choice. You don’t need to ask permission or whatever.’

‘Wait before agreeing.’

‘Is it the Tower?’ Kat winces with a grimace, trying to think of places still standing that Jane might be wary of asking her to visit.

Jane stops rummaging in her bag, her head shooting up. ‘What the fuck, Katherine??’

The younger girl is so lost in unpleasant memories that she doesn't even react to Jane’s swearing nor her full naming her. ‘Hampton Court?’

‘Why would I ever do something like that?’ Jane recoils. ‘God, no! The Clink.’

‘As-’

‘The prison! Not the-’

‘Brothels?’ Kat completes, eyebrow raised in amusement. Then she nods, almost to herself. The area had been known for two main things…the prison and for allowing usually forbidden activities.

‘Yes. I mean, they made a prison museum. You know I like true crime and–’

Yes. That had been a surprise. When Kat had asked if there was something she particularly enjoyed reading and learning about, like she loved history, that had definitely not been the answer she had expected. Jane must have known that, considering how much she hummed and hawed before caving after Kat had called bullshit – literally – on her non-committal answer.

‘–I think I’d like to– but I don’t want to, like, trigger you?’

‘What’s inside, exactly?’

Jane finally finds what she has been looking for in her bag and hands her a leaflet.

‘You know what?’ Kat takes a look at it. ‘We can go and you can...scout it out?’ She doesn’t see anything upsetting in the pictures, but there will be so much more in the museum that they can show in a single leaflet. ‘You can take a look before me and if you think there is something that might…disturb me, you tell me and I’ll skip that room?’

‘Really?’

‘I mean, you know I'm not too fussed about death and stuff like that as long as it’s not too bloody. Or neck-related.’

She is not too keen on watching documentaries with Jane, but she doesn’t mind listening to her talking about them. Or about whatever serial killer or unsolved crime she is currently reading about.

‘Thank you.’ Jane squeezes her arm, hoping Kat knows it’s not about agreeing to her request, but for her trust. ‘On an unrelated note...food?’

Jane’s constant preoccupation with food is another thing put down to her supposedly maternal instinct, a desire to make sure everyone is well-fed. The truth is…Jane loves eating. Being able to enjoy doing so without the ever-present worry of looking unladylike. Discovering new foods. She doesn’t eat a lot, but she needs to eat often, or she becomes…hangry, it’s what Kat called it. And it is only polite to ask if the others are feeling peckish too and want to join her. Moreover, she knows it’s one thing she can’t rely on Kat for, seeing as she is prone to skip meals if there is anything else she deems more important or interesting.  

‘Do you think Catalina would consider this as traditional local food or...?’ Jane wonders aloud as she dips the churro in the plastic pot holding the chocolate sauce.

‘Possibly? Even if they were not invented by Spanish shepherds but brought by the Portuguese from China like some say, I think everyone agrees that by the 16th century they existed in Spain. And look, Romans had fried pastry, so, if not exactly that, something similar. And naturally cacao came to Europe after the Spanish invaded the Americas, so it arrived in Spain first, although if it was just after Cortés, Catalina would have been already in England…so she might have never tried churros with chocolate? Not sure when they started to combine the two, to be honest…’ Kat trails off. ‘What?’

‘Next person who says you’re stupid, I’ll deck them.’

Kat chuckles, bumping her hip into hers. ‘I appreciate the offer.’

‘It’s not an offer, it’s a promise.’

.

‘Ever thought about getting a car?’ Jane asks after they have been walking for a while.

‘Why? Tired? But not really. Honestly just the idea of getting into one and driving it myself is kind of terrifying.’

Jane nods. It sounds a bit like airplanes for her. It still boggles her mind that humans can fly. And she knows they are mostly safe and all, but it doesn’t mean she is keen on trying them out for herself.

‘I thought about getting a bicycle and learning how to ride,’ Kat continues.

‘Why don’t you?’

‘Yeah, and where would I hide it?’

‘Why would you need to hide it?’ Jane is puzzled enough to ignore Kat’s tone verging on the sarcastic rhetorical question inflection that usually implies someone had just asked a very stupid question.

‘With the potential of me getting hurt? Straying away, getting lost, or whatever? I don’t know if you have noticed, but the others tend to be a bit overprotective.’

And a bit is a euphemism. Don’t get her wrong. It is nice to have people caring and worrying about her. But she spent a lifetime fending for herself. And yes, she had her struggles, and the end might have been inglorious, but Anne wound up the same way and yet nobody questions her…or her capabilities. And okay, that might have something to do with age, but nobody cared about that before, and she had been a bloody queen (and quite a successful one, if she says so herself, at least before her past caught up with her)! Still, she doesn’t want to think how worse it would be if she had come back younger than she had been at the time of her death like the others did.

‘What are you thinking about?’ Jane asks, realising she is miles away, lost in thoughts.

‘How weird it would be if we had come back the same age we died. Well, besides me, obviously.’ She hopes she’ll be there to see it in person, but she can’t really think about Catalina as a 50-years-old woman or Anna in her forties. ‘And about how there is a fine line between heart-warming care and overbearing concern.’

Because, back to the point, she might have been more or less successful, but she is used to rely just on herself and getting by, not to have four other women, Jane to a lesser extent, being overly concerned about her. For certain matters, at least. Because for other things they seem perfectly happy to…perhaps not ignore her, but surely leave her to her own devices, without trying to get her involved. And she is often more than content with it, she will admit that…except that often it also leads to remarks about how she spends all her time at home, always in front a screen, and perhaps she should go out more? And then instead of standing up all night on her phone, she would tire herself out and sleep?

‘So you don’t want to check this out?’

Kat had not even realised they were walking past a sporting goods store.

‘Look! You could easily hide that.’ Jane points out to a small, colourful, tricycle, clearly meant for children.

‘Ah ah. Very funny.’ Sarcasm is heavy in Kat’s voice, but she follows her in.

‘What about this?’

‘A unicycle? Really? Have you ever seen one of those around, in public?’

Jane takes a moment to think about it. ‘Don’t think so.’

‘Exactly. Because they belong in the circus.’

‘One might say our house is a circus.’ They certainly have some chaotic days.

‘And you a clown.’

Jane gasps in mock offence. ‘I miss the days when you were afraid of me.’

‘I was never afraid of you. I was indifferent. And thought you were a stuck-up bore. Also, I know you don’t miss it.’

‘True,’ Jane admits easily. ‘Joking aside. We could put them in the shed?’

She had said once that she didn’t mind taking care of the garden and suddenly she had been left in charge of it, gardening apparently a passion of hers she didn’t even know she had. She supposes that it was deemed an appropriate hobby for boring old plain Jane (and yes, the fact that it is her actual name and not just a phrase in her case does not escape her), just like embroidery. She enjoys both of them, sure, but she is fairly confident the others think that’s all she does, no other interests – oh wait, there is cooking, or at least making sure that everyone is eating too! – which is something she tries not to dwell on too much because that’s frankly a bit (or a lot, depending on how she feels on the day) insulting.

‘We? Them?’ Kat raises an eyebrow. ‘But yes, we could store them there, but not really hide them if anyone happens to look inside. And certainly not two of them.’

Still, they continue to peruse the store.

‘What about these?’ Jane calls Kat’s attention, holding a pair of rollerblades up. ‘I’ve seen kids with them, can’t be that hard, can it?’ she continues once the girl comes over, looking interested.

‘Shoes on wheels? We’re so gonna die.’

Jane starts to put them back, slightly dejected, but Kat snatches them up. ‘Let’s do this.’

‘Yeah?’ She looks at her, tentative grin on her face.

Kat nods with gleeful smile. ‘Absolutely.’

[fabien-euskadi]

Hello! Can I ask for 11, 23, 28 and 33? Hope you've been well🌼

11. 3 books that you would recommend everyone to read

- The Book of Disquiet (Bernardo Soares/Fernando Pessoa): Probably, you've already found quotes from this book - even I post some quite often. There is a very good reason for that.

- Wuthering Heights (Emily Brontë): Probably, the best novel ever written. So, if you already read it, re-read it. I am doing it right now. It's a masterpiece.

- Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter: Yes, I know it's not just a book - it's a huge pile of paper and chapters and characters and plot twists. But these are essential works in popular culture. To criticize, first, you need to know them... and, to be honest, once you read and understand them, I think it's quite hard to dislike Lord of the Rings or Harry Potter. And no, the movies are not enough.

23. 3 songs you listen to while cleaning

To be honest, I never listen any music when I am cleaning. I could do it - I live alone on a farm. But - maybe because I could actually do it - I never do it. So, here goes a random playlist:

- "We Will Not Go Quietly" - Sixx A.M.

- "A Shelter From the Storm" - Moonlight Haze

- "Vision of the Condor" - Tierramystica

28. 3 things you love cooking/baking

Lately, I've been feeling so numb and so hopeless, that I no longer like to cook (or eat, to be honest). And to cook in this horrible farmhouse is nothing short of a nightmare.

But, when I was on a level that still allowed to consider myself a human being, I enjoyed cooking:

- Vegan Francesinha: the vegan take of a Portuguese dish, losely based on the French croque-monsieur.

- Vegan Seitanas: another vegan take of a Portuguese dish. This time, the traditional bifana of Vendas Novas (a pork steak) was seriously improved in this vegan conversion.

- Seitan Roast: that's a dish that I created myself. But the name is self explanatory.

33. 3 scented candles that you love the most

I guess scented candles do not fascinate me all that much. But I am going to reply you anyway: lemon, rose and sandalwood (I've just mentioned three possible scents, I am not sure if I really enjoy them).

Thank you, my friend - sadly, I have not been feeling well and I suspect that it will only get worse.

[playlist-reid]

Writer in the Dark - Spencer Reid

hello and happy weekend!  these are out of order because I've been catching up with some other songs I've added to my playlist since I've started this blog.  anyways, this one is inspired by Writer in the Dark by Lorde.  this is also coincidentally my favorite song by her, so enjoy!

word count: 1,755

One day, on a crisp and cool day in November of 2009, Spencer Reid walked into a bookstore that would soon change his entire life.  It was a bookstore that had been up the street from his apartment for years, but he had never made his way to it until now.  His eyes scanned through the many aisles and the second floor, which was a visible loft, with a content grin on his lips.

As he browsed the many aisles, his eyes landed on you.  You stood there, in the biography section, dressed in a pale pink dress that was a little too big for you, but was still made you look absolutely beautiful.  You were placing new books onto the shelves, and you had yet to notice him, or so he thought.  

He didn’t realize that you noticed him when he had entered the store.  Messy curly hair, buttoned cardigan, content smile and all.  He was a lot like most of the men who came into the bookstore.  A scholar, without a doubt.

His face reddened at just the sight of you and he moved quickly, four books in his arms, towards the checkout.  As he walked along the wall towards the large desk with the old register, his eyes fell on a cork board with a quote written in a beautifully messy font on a ripped sheet of notebook paper. 

Doubt thou the stars are fire; Doubt thou that the sun doth move; Doubt truth to be a liar; But never doubt I love.

Spencer’s lips turned up in a small smile as he reached down, digging a pen from his bag and writing below the quote.

Thine evermore, most dear lady, whilst this machine is to him.

With a small and happy smile playing on his lips, he turned back towards the checkout and his eyes landed on you as you walked to the desk and placing a large stack of books on it.  “Hello,” you greeted in a gentle and quiet voice as you gave him a warm smile.   Your eyes were bright, and so innocent, and he thought you were one of the kindest looking people he had ever seen.  “Find what you were looking for?”  You asked him as you held your hand out to take them. 

Spencer’s eyes darted down to your hand, and slowly, he nodded and handed you the small stack.  “Truthfully, I wasn’t looking for anything,” he answered with a slightly nervous smile. 

You laughed.  It was a genuine, happy laugh, and Spencer wanted nothing more than to hear it more.  “I know the feeling,” you replied and began to ring him up. Your eyes scanned the books with a fond look.  “You’ve got quite the collection here.  I assume you’re studying for something?”  You continued to speak so friendly.  Spencer’s mind wandered to the fact that this friendly nature was the typical attributes to the victims he saw in his line of work. 

The thought made his heart drop to his stomach.  “No, actually.  I am just reading these for pleasure,” he explained with the most even voice he could manage. “What’s your name?”

“(Y/N),” you answered with a small smile.  “What do I get to call you?” 

Spencer's mind wandered with a million different options he could say, but simply answered, “Spencer.”  No doctor, no last name, just Spencer.  

You repeated his name then, like you trying to draw a connection to something. “Spencer, like Spenser from Robert B. Parker’s detective novels,” you answered with a crooked smile on our lips.  “You’re not a detective to, are you?”  You asked as you then followed with his total for the books.  

Spencer handed you the money as his cheeks felt warm.  “No, not quite,” he said softly with a gentle smile on his lips. 

You laughed again, and Spencer felt his own heart rate speed up at the sound.  “I always found Spenser, in the novels, to be rather secretive, as well,” you murmured as you placed Spencer’s books in a paper bag and pushed them across the counter to him.  “Stop in again, yeah?”  You asked as you took your own stack of books into your arms again, gave him one final smile, and walked back into the aisles of books, leaving him to his thoughts.

He stared for a moment, at the tall brown paper bag, and smiled lightly, gathering it into his own arms and left, not before glancing at one more at the writing on the cork board.

~.~

Just short a month later, Spencer came into the bookstore again.  His mind often thought of you during the last few weeks, your smile, witty words, the relation of his name to a book series, and especially your laugh.  All of it crowded his mind.  

As he stepped into the store, there were a few other patrons, but his eyes scanned around the store for you.  Much to his dismay, his eyes didn’t find you.  Nonetheless, he browsed the store, picking up a mother four books.  As he walked towards the register, where an elderly lady was checking out a line of customers, Spencer paused in front of the cork board again.  There it was again - the messy handwriting on the ripped sheet of notebook paper.

When he looked into her eyes, he learned the most important part of the language that all the world spoke — the language that everyone on Earth was capable of understanding in their heart. It was love.

Spencer’s mind immediately drew the connection.  Again, he dug in his bag for a pen and wrote beneath it. 

Something older than humanity, more ancient than the desert. What the boy felt at that moment was that he was in the presence of the only woman in his life, and that, with no need for words, she recognized the same thing. 

Once he finished, he capped his pen, and was about to walk away when a voice behind him spoke, “Because when you know the language, it’s easy to understand that someone in the world awaits you, whether it’s in the middle of the desert or in some great city.”  Spencer turned, knowing that voice and with rather excited eyes, he saw you standing behind him, one book in hand.  Your smile was soft, sweet, and your face was as innocent as they come. 

Spencer licked his lips briefly, and replied, “And when two such people encounter each other, the past and the future become unimportant.”  His smile was undeniable, and quite honestly, neither of you paid any attention to your surroundings as you stared at one another, refusing to break eye contact. 

“There is only that moment, and the incredible certainty that everything under the sun has been written by one hand only.”  You murmured and stepped forward, closer to Spencer. 

Spencer took a step forward as well, so that you were a mere foot away from one another. “It is the hand that evokes love, and creates a twin soul for every person in the world.”  His voice was as even as ever, as surprising as that was, being around you. 

Your smile grew slightly, and your spoke without skipping a beat, “Without such love, one’s dreams would have no meaning.”  You finished the passage, your hands still gripping the book in your hand and your eyes excited and almost sparkling.  

Spencer glanced down at the book in your hand, and he chuckled.  “The Alchemist,” he nodded to your hand.

“My favorite, for this reason exactly,” you explained as you motioned to the board.  “Surprisingly, not many people have been able to pinpoint this quote.  Its been up since you were in here last,” you added as your eyes searched his face.  Suddenly, your face reddened and you looked down.  “Not that I have been counting the days, or anything, but its been a while,” you tried to cover, but knew you were only digging yourself in a deeper hole.

He laughed.  It was light, joyful, and made you smile a bashful smile as you ducked your head down and looked at your feet.  “I originally read it in Portuguese,” Spencer told you as he fought the urge to talk far more to you.  “But reading it in English is what made it one of my favorites.

You looked up, impressed.  “Small world,” you laughed softly as Spencer looked confused.  “I originally read it in Portuguese, too,” you explained and held up the cop you had in your hand, which was indeed in Portuguese.  

Spencer raised his eyebrows, and smiled.  “You can read in more than one language?”  He asked incredulously. 

“Four, actually.  Working on five,” you said with a wide smile.

Spencer was in awe, to say the least.  You were witty, funny, educated, and could speak multiple languages?  You had to be some sort of dream of  his.  “Impressive,” he breathed out. 

You blushed and gave him a smile.  With a small breath, you began speaking, “Listen, if you're not busy tonight, there is a book signing up the road at the library you might be interested in.  Stephen King is in town,” you offered with a small, nervous smile.  “We could get coffee after.  It might be fun.”

For a moment, Spencer was quiet, weighing his options and calculating the rusk of going out with you tonight.  With a smile he couldn’t hide, he spoke, “Doubt thou the stars are fire; Doubt that the sun doth move; Doubt truth to be a liar; But never doubt I love,” he said without skipping a beat.

You giggle, knowing exactly that he was referring to the words you wrote on the cork board over a month ago, and you nodded.  “I’m taking that as a yes.  Meet you here at seven?”  You asked hopefully.  Spencer nodded, causing a small smile to only grow on your face more.

You nodded in return, turned away from Spencer and walked away quickly, up the stairs towards the loft, leaving him to watch after you.  His mind swirled with all he could imagine how the night could go, what could happen, but no matter what he thought of, it was going to be a wonderful night.