thank you @dreamofghosts for the tag ♥
Last read: Circe by Madeline Miller. I enjoyed it a lot, even though it took me longer than anticipated
Current read: Cemetery Boys by Aiden Thomas. I’m already hooked and I’m only on page 80! (I also started Moll Flanders by Dafoe months ago but I can’t seem to find the right mindset to continue it)
Next read: Probably The White Devil by John Webster because I need it for a seminar I’m taking next semester!
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‧˚⊹ 𝗱𝗲𝗱𝗶𝗰𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗶 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 ଓ :: 𝗠𝗩𝟭 ‧₊˚⤾
you are reading :: part nine !!
╭╯ pairing . . . max verstappen x fem! driver! reader ) ┊ summary . . . a day for improvement and a nice cuddle session ) ┊ genre . . . fluff / angst ) ╰╮ warning . . . X )
☆★ more max and y/n, horay! we're almost thereeee ━━
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R8 - QUALIFYING
Sunday, May 25
2024 — Circuit de Monaco, Monaco
"Eh el enti labseh dah?" [What are you wearing] Your grandmother scolded once you helped her out of the car, picking at your hoodie unimpressed. "Sebuhah fehalha." [Let her mind her business] Your grandfather sighed getting out of the drivers seat, pulling you in a gentle hug. "Hi gedo." [grandpa]
You sighed relaxed as your grandparents patted your shoulder and pinched your cheek. "You didn't tell me you were coming." "We don't need an invitation, ya habibit mama." [Mom's sweat heart] Grandma said sarcastically in her absolutely horrible English accent which you had to hold your breath in to not laugh at.
"El nas bet bous leh?" [Why is everyone staring] Your grandfather asked looking around the parking lot to the people absolutely oogiling and taking pictures of car. "3alafekra, enta betsou2 nevra. enta 3aref di ghaliah ade eh?" [You're driving a nevera. You have any idea how expensive that is] "La2. Ana shoftaha we 3oztaha." [no I saw it and said I wanted it] he scoffed making you roll your eyes, hooking your arm with his as you walked towards the entrance paddock.
"Tu es toujours dans cette boîte à merde?" [You still in that shit box] Your grandmother smiled amused, French accent and pronounciation on point for some reason. You opened the door to the Alpha Tauri hospitality. "People here speak French. And your French is good. So they can understand you. Which means you're embaeessing m-"
"Grand maaaaaaaa!" You watched as Meike ran into the building catching your grandparents in a hug. You folded your arms listening to them shower each other in hugs and affection.
"Great of you to join us." You joked as Killian sneaked in as well receiving the same treatment as your twin. "What about me?" You pouted slouching. "Girl we see you everyday." Granma scoffed making you chuckle as you shared a bone crushing hug with your brothers and grandfather.
"Aboki fen ba2a 3alashan adrabo 3ala nafokho." [Now, where's your dad so I can beat the shit out of him] you watched silently as your grandparents and twin argued over beating up or not beating up your dead, a small smile on your face.
Max watched from behind the doors quietly, holding Leila's hand who had an ice-cream in her mouth, looking around the paddock. "What . . . Are! What questions we looking at?" She looked into the motor home confused, her eyes lighting up as she saw her family running in to great them.
"The whole family is almost back together." You joked to Max once he decided to join you. He held up the can of red RedBull for you, which you clapped in excitement before thanking him and popping the can open.
Max's never seen a family interact like yours, most likely because his family was small and he didn't have that much Sibling or cousins and aunts and uncles. "I wanted to ask." He started hesitantly.
You hummed turning your attention to him. "Well- I was wondering-" He fiddled with his hands behind his back, looking away from your eyes. 'You should tell her.' His consciousness reminded him.
"I wanted to tell you- do you and Leila wanna stay over for the week? Like a sleep over?" 'Fucking hell.' Max watched as a smile spread on your lips. You quickly nodded. "Thank you, Max. That- that's really nice of you."
"No- Y/N, don't bring our enemies into our sacred space." Yuki cut in pushing Max from his back, along with your two brothers, put of your motor home. You laughed as you watched them looking back either confused or pouting with Yuki dusting his hands in satisfaction.
"That was mean." "They were going to steal you, Y/N."
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alphataurif1
liked by pieregasly player.17 and 27M others alphataurif1 P5 and P7 for tomorrows race with leila in the garage today, looking good guys 💪
mclaren leila, come stop by! we have cupcakes! ↳ scuderiaferrari forget mclaren, we have pancakes and pasta, leila ↳ alpinef1team leila, forget ferrari, we have ice cream ↳ astonmartinf1 forget alpine, leila. we have fernando alonso ↳ redbullracing forget all the above, you forgot your right show in max's garage ↳ player.17 excuse me- why do you have her right shoe? ↳ redbullracing tickle fight, i believe leila has both of max's shoes as well
user is it just be or is alpha tauri catching up? ↳ user Y/N's breathing down their neck mate, dont be surprized if she's on the podium tomorrow ↳ user awh hell nah, somebody stop her ↳ user mate 💀 we're done for
user leile looks so happy, she's so cute ↳ user she's looks like she's having a healthy childhood from what we see ↳ user she's not going to be cute dominating f1 in 10 years ↳ user dont even remind me, i cant hear the same antheum over and over, im allergic. someone stop versappen, srsly
user i get why all the teams are fighting for leila, like i would like to fight to give her a hug too ↳ user RIGHT?! SHE JUST LOOKS LIKE AN ANGEL ↳ player.17 she /is/ an angel ↳ maxverstappen1 she's a demon ↳ player.17 MOTHER FOCKER YOU STOLE HER FROM ME ↳ maxverstappen1 leila says its fucker* with a u ↳ player.17 VERSTAPPEN YOUR A DEAD MAN
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You sat silently, sipping from the juice carton as you you watched max run up and down the paddock after Leila in only his socks, trying to get his shoes back. "You're doing great, Maxine." You cupped your hand over your mouth so your voice could reach him.
Max looked back at you, glaring. "Can you be of good use and help me?!" You couldn't be bothered, slouching back in your chair and closing your eyes. "I'm good."
Max had to drive back to his apartment barefoot, watching Leila run around and explore the apartment while you flopped on the couch. "You're one good host." You yawned, making Max purse his lape and shake his head playfully.
"Pretty sure you invited me to your house without even knowing me that well." He joked, grabbing a nearby blanket and covering you with it, before finding a spot for himself to sit beside you.
"I did know you that well technically. You played football with Mieke and Killian— all the time." You yawned between your words. "And I'm pretty sure you've been on each and every one of my podiums in karting and f1."
". . . Don't sleep yet, who's going to make dinner?" He nudged your shoulder joking. "Well the host, of course." You joked back closing your eyes. Max felt his gaze soften listening to your breath even. He hesitantly reached over and brushed the few strands of hair behind your ear, adjusting the blanket before getting up to find the tween.
Max did end up making dinner, sharing a plate with Leila infront of the TV after he carried you to bed ( his bed, he thought you'd be more comfortable in it than the guest room, wasnt a big deal right ).
The Dutch driver did help Lei get ready for bed, setting her in the bed beside your sleeping body while he went to get ready for his other bed. What he didn't expect was Leila pulling and insisting they all shared the same bed because it was a "sleep over".
He felt jealous watching you and Leila sleep so peacefully while he couldn't sleep a wink. The moonlight peaking from the windows made your features look so perfect and made you look so peaceful. You wouldn't mind if he removed the pillow wall betwen you two right? Just so he could scootch in a little, and hold your hand. Which effectively brought him enough serenity for the night.
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"Cat." He heard Leila whisper in the middle of the night, getting off to probably have another play session with sassy or jimmy. He was too unbored to get up this early, he wasn't bothered at all either when you turned and snuggled into his chest to replace the warmth Leila took with her.
He gently wrapped an arm around your back keeping you close. He couldn't bring himself to sleep again, being so close to you made him feel complete. Max had instead found refuge in scrolling through his phone, enjoying how his heartbeat and breathing patterns matched with yours.
This was going to be awkward in the morning.
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R8 - RACE DAY
Sunday, May 26
2024 — Circuit de Monaco, Monaco
It wasn't that bad. You didn't know how you ended up here, head resting on Max's chest while listening to his steady heartbeat which threatened to lull you back to sleep. You could hear the hushed conversation between Max and Leila, probably concerning to two purring cats behind you.
This felt like a reverie. A fantasy.
You've always dreamt about waking up beside a nice man, who would be an angel to your children and would run his fingers gently through your hair same way max was doing now. It made you think differently about Max . . . very differently. You've never seen him like that before.
But you shouldn't see Max like that. You were competitors, ex-teammates. Yes he was very nice and fun, got along with your family very well, was practically Leila's best friend and knew your favourite Red Bull flavor— fucking hell. You couldn't possibly crush on him. No way.
But you'd rather miss the race than leave his embrace.
You cleared your throat making you and Max simultaneously pull away and sit up in silence. Leila looked between you two narrowing her eyes as she rubbed the cat's head. "Who ever wins will start the conversation." You rolled your eyes at her, kissing her cheek good morning. Her suggestion was only going to end in one way.
And it did end her way.
"Here comes the lights to one of the great tests in all of sport. And formula one is racing on the streets of Monte Carlo."
Lap 1 :: "And Max Verstappen wins the Monaco grand Prix." You narrated to yourself as you overtook Norris on turn one, because you can.
You knew you weren't going to be able to overstake Daniel ahead or your older brother after that. But P4 was good, you weren't satisfied, but good.
That was the most you could do. You've defended position against both the McLarens behind throughout the whole race, giving you no time to attack or overtake Daniel in front.
Lap 53 :: "I'm GLIDING!" You shouted in the radio as you lost control of the car. "INTERS. I SAID INTERS. NOT MEDIUM. WHY AM I ON MEDIUM?!" You shouted angrily. As you did your best to catch up to the McLarens that passed you. "WHY IS IT THAT YOU NEVER LISSTEN TO WHAT I SAY? I'M DRIVING. I KNOW WHAT IM DOING. OR IS IT BECAUSE IM A STUPID ARABIAN GIRL?"
"We are pitting for—" "INTERMEDIATS AND FRONT WING. I SWEAR TO GOD— **** ******** *** ***** *** KHARA DAH WENTA BE3MEL **** ***** ***** ******. FUCKING SHIT SHOW. MY GRANDMOTHER CAN DO BETTER WORK THAN THIS FUCKING TEAM."
It was raining. That usually wasn't an issue when you weren't DANCING LIKE A FIGUTRE SKATER WITH THE GOD DAMN CAR, because inters and mediums sound so "similar". You were going to put your fist in someone's face after this.
Lap 62 :: "I'm going to fucking. JUMP OFF BRIDGE." Your rage meter was going to pop off at any moment as you overtook Daniel to sit in P2 only to receive an 5 second time penalty. "Take the wheel. I'm going to fucking kill someone." "I'm good thank you, maybe next time." You heard other you chuckle as you drove past her from where she stood with some marshals. "You're fucking useless."
Final Lap :: You could feel you chest heaving as you parked in where P2 would. But there was no board because you had fallen into P4, right where you started. "I hate you!" You repeated slamming your fists down on the steering wheel over and over. To whome that statement was directed to was unknown.
"My life is a shit show." You growled slammed the stupid white and black helmet on the ground. "Nunu, relax." "Don't tell me to relax." You shrugged killain's hand off your shoulder, feeling your chest and palm burn from the anger bubbling.
"Hey, It's going to be fine." Max was next to come and comfort you. "I fucking lost." You argued, feeling angry tears swell in your eyes as you looked up at him. "There's a lot more to racing than winning." You sighed shakily at the statement, running your hand over your face to catch your breath. "I'm— I'm fine."
You could feel Max pat your head gently before his presence disappeared. You had to figure out what you were doing with your life. This isn't how you should be spending it.
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2007 — Stuttgart, Germany
It was yet another disappointing race for Max, he always seemed to disappoint. With helmet in hand, he walked down the circuit's building to the washroom, head down in shame. The boy that he had thought he'd become friends with had forced him out and beaten him in the race. And nothing hurts more than listening to your father compare you to a friend.
Max should have expected such a dirty move, Meike was a Kraus after all and Krauses do whatever they need to get their hands on the first place trophy. But Max never expected them to go this far, especially on their own kin.
While walking back, a rattling door caught his attention. Bangs and clanks were what he could hear from the other side. And although his brain was screaming for him to ignore it, Max found himself rotating the key to the lock. What he didn't expect was the door to go flying open and slam in his face.
He watched as the silhouette of the familiar girl ran past him with a metre long rebar. From the window he watched he saw you came up from behind your celebrating brother. Swinging forth with the metal, Max could only wince as he saw Meike fall on the ground.
( taglist ↳ @lorarri @benedikwonn @mycenterfold @ironmaiden1313 @iamahallucinationnn @hockeyboysarehot @tsnataly @iloveyou3000morgan @lpab @jetless @inas-thing @folklorelvrr @fdl305 @lifesuckslife @loveofmylife12 @chasing-liberosis @peachiicherries @ferrariloverr @love4lando @stewel92 @screemqueen @lizzieolseniskinda @chelseyyouraverageluigi @michellekstyles @bibissparkles @copper-boom @ferraribabe @ssararuffoni @caelum-the-part-time-nihilist @topguncultleader @sheslikeacurse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @nellxsies @ru-kru @stvrlec16 @janeholt3 @boherahpsody @styles-sunflower @luciaexcorvus @hornedravenclaws @lazybot
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The Asgardian Royal Family portrait was grand. It hung high above the throne, depicting stories of battles and love. In the middle of the great mosaic were four people- the King, the Queen, and the two princes. Odin stood center, staring down intently at those below, as if the art had somehow captured a piece of his soul within itself, letting him view everything on the ground. Frigga stood next to him, her warm and smiling face now regal and serious. Thor stood to the right, face void of any emotion, and Loki to the left with the same lack. No matter how large, how shiny, how detailed it was- there were no emotions in the portrait. No amount of gold lining could fix that.
The New Asgard Royal Family portrait was small. It wasn’t a mosaic displayed on a throne room ceiling, but instead a framed painting in the town hall. Thor stood center, wearing the armor he wore in the original portrait; only this time, something was different. He smiled. His face was lit up, full of genuine emotion. To his right was Loki, dressed in the Asgardian leather he adored so much. Their face, while still serious, held a certain amount of emotion that the original completely failed to capture. They were once again staring straight ahead, but this time with purpose.
There were new people in this portrait. Valkyrie stood next to Loki, a smirk on her face. On Thor’s left stood a short Midgardian man- Bruce Banner. He smiled as well, seeming so out of place in the heap of Asgardians yet so comfortable, like a piece from a separate puzzle that still fits the missing space. On one end of the group stood Korg, and the other end Meik. Like everyone else in the painting, they had emotions. They seemed real. It wasn’t a cold and unfeeling picture, but a warm and welcoming one.
Both portraits depicted similar scenes. Only one of them was genuine.
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Il museo della felicità di Copenaghen
Tra le città europee più visitate da turisti di tutto il mondo, la capitale danese offre un’attrazione particolare in più.
Il museo della felicità di Copenaghen, che ha aperto i battenti nell’estate 2020, é la nuova e curiosissima istituzione danese dedicata alla gioia di vivere, al benessere e alla cura dell’anima.
Si tratta di una piccola esposizione permanente nel centro storico, che illustra e spiega come gli individui e una società possano raggiungere la felicità e perché la Danimarca, la Finlandia e gli altri Paesi nordici siano classificati regolarmente ogni anno come i più felici del mondo dal World happiness report delle Nazioni Unite.
Creatore e direttore del museo è Meik Wiking, un giovane studioso ritenuto forse il massimo esperto di felicità nel piccolo regno. Felicità tanto per precisare si dice lykke in danese. Meik Wiking ha dedicato al tema un libro dal titolo che suona quasi allusivo e ironico: “La via danese alla felicità”. Sembra quasi offrire alternative a utopie di ieri, come le cosiddette vie nazionali al socialismo. È infaticabile, il giovane esperto: dirige anche l'Istituto danese di ricerche sulla felicità. E lavora di continuo come consulente per comuni, provincie, istituzioni di ogni genere e aziende aiutando a fare di tutto per rendere più felici e soddisfatti della vita i loro cittadini, membri o dipendenti.
Situato nel seminterrato di un edificio settecentesco della Città Vecchia, il museo è stato creato dall’Happiness Research Institute, ente indipendente incentrato sul benessere e sulla qualità della vita, per «dimostrare come la felicità sia coinvolta in ogni ambito della vita» e «ricordare ai visitatori cos'è che dà loro valore e li fa sentire bene».
«La nostra speranza è che gli ospiti usciranno dal museo un po' più saggi, un pò più felici e un po’ più motivati a rendere il mondo un posto migliore», ha spiegato il direttore Meik Wiking.
L’Happiness Museum, il museo della felicità di Copenaghen, è uno spazio educativo e interattivo nel quale riflettere sul tema del benessere e sulla ricerca del proprio equilibrio interiore.
Che cos’è la felicità? Quest’annosa domanda attanaglia l’umanità sin dalla notte dei tempi, ponendosi come uno dei quesiti per antonomasia della filosofia esistenzialista. Mai prima d'ora, tuttavia, era accaduto che un museo si facesse carico del tema, proponendosi come una sorta di “mecca” per chiunque voglia provare a cercare la propria risposta a questo cavilloso dilemma. A questo proposito analizza, per esempio, le caratteristiche dei paesi nordeuropei: a partire dal famoso *hygge*, quel sentimento di benessere dello stare a casa con le persone care.
Suddiviso in otto stanze dedicate ad altrettante tematiche, l’Happiness Museum propone esperienze ludiche e interattive, esperimenti di sociologia e momenti di riflessione sui limiti della nostra conoscenza, sulle illusioni del reale e sulla strada da intraprendere per sentirci bene con noi stessi. Una serie di mappe visuali, statistiche e informazioni scientifiche completano il percorso espositivo, offrendo ai visitatori dati concreti per osservare quanto la politica, le imposizioni sociali e il nostro stile di vita limitino la nostra crescita interiore ostacolando il traguardo di una vita serena.
A molti potrà sembrare un luogo bizzarro, ma farci un “salto” potrebbe aiutarci non poco a ritrovare l’equilibrio e il buonumore messi a dura prova dalla pandemia.
Scoprite la nostra rubrica dedicata all'Arte
Immagine di copertina: Image by wirestock on Freepik
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favorite actors for your favorite characters GO
yaya thank you!!!
Victoria: Cynthia Onrubia, Franchesca hayward, Hyla Mayrose, Maya Hikasa, Caitlin Bond, Phyllida Crowely Smith, Ellis Van Evert, Valerie Wright, Laura Kaufman,
Rumpleteazer: Taryn Smitherson, Jo Gibb, Katie Hutton, Anna Buchegger, Elana Valstro, Kelly Donah, Kate Tydman, and Meike Staring
Jemima: Veerle Castelyn, Lottie Stephens, Whitney Kershaw, Olivia Swain, and Brianna Kim
Mr. Mistoffelees: Timothy Scott, Lindsay chambers, Guy Paul st. German, Fergus Logan, Harry Francis, Paul Girratto, Xavier Perllin, Jacob Brent
(I have an almost full version in my notes app but the ask was favs only)
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Ton Voogt covering Mungojerrie in Zurich 1992 (top) and Amsterdam 1987 (below). With Anna Montanaro in Zurich, and Meike Staring in Amsterdam.
He usually played Tumblebrutus or Bill Bailey.
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... Teazer? u ok, hon?
(Leave her alone, she's having a Moment.)
Frédéric Norbert as Tugger, Meike Staring as Rumpleteazer, Ellis van Evert as Victoria, Joëlle Turcotte as Tantomile, probably Laura Balon as Demeter (on the left); Paris 1989.
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I got inspired so here's one more link I haven't seen around yet
Cats - Amsterdam, August 18th 1992
Cast: Ellen Evers (Grizabella), Joyce Stevens (Bombalurina), Wilma Hoornstra (Demeter), Michiel Verkoren (Mungojerrie), Brian Galliford (Old Deuteronomy), Meike Staring (Rumpleteazer), Fred Butter (Rum Tum Tugger)
This is going to stay up until the end of Sunday (note that I live in the UTC+3 time zone). Please don't share the link outside of tumblr & enjoy!
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Was thinkin’ bout my comfort movie: Thor Ragnarok last night...
“About time you came back.”
Thor’s weary gaze studied the woman sitting at the kitchen table, dressed in a sleek black silk robe that wasn’t very suitable in the cold New Asgard weather. Her long black hair was braided loosely and that braid swung over her shoulder as her intense gaze met his tired one. One hand embraced a Thor mug (he still didn’t recall telling Stark that he could manufacture those but he did get a check that accumulated enough money to purchase a fishing village for his people so…) while the other strummed neatly painted black nails against a local newspaper.
He glanced around the rest of his home in confusion, noticing that his house was redecorated and clean.
Korg and Meik were still on the couch playing video games though.
“Hey Thor,” Korg greeted.
He gave them an awkward nod before looking at his sister again, “I’m sorry...didn’t I kill you?” He asked in confusion.
“No, I believe that was Surtur,” Hela replied curtly, “And, as you can see,” She gestured to herself, “It didn’t stick.”
Thor looked at her, and then at Brun and back at Hela again. And then at Brun. “And you didn’t try to kill her again?” He asked
The former Valkyrie shrugged, “She’s pretty harmless now,” She replied. “No fun in killing someone who can’t exactly fight back.”
“Harm-” He looked at his sister, “Harmless?”
“Asgard is gone,” Hela replied, “I can revive small entities from the dead. Raised a chicken last week for the fun of it.”
“It was beheaded and you scared children with it,” Brun reminded.
“That was the fun of it.”
Brunhilde pursed her lips as she narrowed her gaze at Hela before giving Thor a hearty slap on the back, “She’s all yours now that you’re back.” She declared before pointing at him before he could protest. “Your King commands it.”
Thor sputtered as she made her way out of his home and he spun to stare at his sister again, watching her sip coffee from his mug in his spot in his house.
“I rather like her as ruler of Asgard,” Hela commented idly, “Doing a better job than you would’ve.”
“You need to leave.” Thor told her sternly.
Hela rolled her eyes, standing up and taking her mug to wash out in the sink, “Come now, brother, is that any way to speak to your last surviving relative?” She turned slowly to look at him, an almost remorseful expression on her face, “The Valkyrie told me about Loki. It should have been me.”
“To die?” Thor asked incredulously.
“What? No. To kill him.”
“Okay, you absolutely have to leave,” Thor decided.
“And go where?” Hela asked.
“I don’t care. You just can’t stay here.”
She drew herself up to her full height, squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin. Her eyes were bright with a simmering fury that he was too tired to try and fight right now. “And go where, brother?” She demanded, “Is this going to be a habit? I come home, try to make things nicer,” She gestured vaguely to the fact that the shelving wasn’t cluttered and Korg and Meik were sitting on a more comfortable looking couch, “And then you try to kick me out? What would Father say?”
“Father wanted me to defeat you before,” He reminded.
“What would Mother say, then?”
“Loki was Mother’s favorite,” Thor replied bitterly.
Hela clicked her tongue, “I thought the middle child was supposed to be the unloved one,” She replied, matching his bitterness and leaning against the counter.
“I was expecting an empty house when I returned,” Thor told her quietly. “I want to be alone.”
“Why? Loki died how long ago? Your two friends over there told me you dealt with that already,” She eyed him with scrutiny, “They told me you got fat and lazy. What? You lose your power too?” When he didn’t say anything, she pushed herself off the counter, cocking her head to the side as she approached him. “You lost your power,” She accused.
“Did not,” He mumbled and didn’t fight when she clutched his jaw with much less malice than the last time she did it, “I just...lent it to someone.”
“Who?” Hela demanded, forcing him to look at her.
“....My ex.”
She stared at him for a painfully long moment before breaking out into laughter and letting go, “God, you’re an idiot. I’m taking a bath,” She walked away and through the living room with the authority she held when she was raising armies of the dead, giving Korg and Miek a single glance along the way, “Make sure your chores are done or I’m taking your toys again.” She ordered.
“Right,” Korg replied, “Chores. Right after this round,” He glanced up at Thor once she was gone, “Mind helping us out?”
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Wash it away
(A.N: will I stop hurting thor in my fics? no. is his bf Bruce gonna be there to cuddle him? YOU BET. Here's some post infinity war drabble)
Over the arms, between the fingers, across the torso, the back of the neck. End on the hands.
Over and over again he went through the routine, dipping the cloth into the water and dragging it roughly across his body.
It was his ritual, after all. A warrior must clean himself after a battle. Wipe the dirt and blood away and start anew, even if the next fight would just ruin the work.
It had been a lot easier on Asgard, with their royal baths that meant he could use any number of herbs to scent the water how he liked. But Midgard was different, as he well knew, and so he had to make do with what he had.
He knew he should be taking Banner's advice, and do what all the others were probably doing. Resting. The fight with Thanos had taken...too much. Too much from all of them. It might have even taken the Man of Iron, but none of them had heard from Tony since his disappearance crossed the television screen.
Thor found himself unconsciously skipping steps, and soon he was just running the cloth over his hands. Again, and again, and again.
Thinking maybe if he scrubbed hard enough, the blood of half the universe would wash away from his hands.
Bruce ventured into the room in the avengers compound that had been set aside for Thor after a long hour of pacing and contemplation. He was exhausted - doing the Hulk's job was a lot harder than he thought. Who knew 'smash' was such a tiring battle strategy?
He'd attempted to sleep, but the universe wasn't going to be that merciful. Things had been looking up for almost a week now, after all. It was about time things plummeted back to misery again.
He'd stared at the ceiling instead, eyes burning but unwilling to shut.
A clap of thunder sounded outside, and he resisted the urge to count Mississippi's.
He knew where the storm was coming from.
And he didn't need 7 PhDs to figure out why it was happening.
With a soft sigh, he slipped out of the bed, flinching at the feeling of bare feet against cold floor.
Padding down the corridor, towards Thor's room, he saw way too many empty beds. Wing prototypes propped up against one corner. Old photos of the Maximoffs pinned up to a board.
With no one there to look at them.
He increased his pace without really noticing as his panic spiked, ever so slightly. Because if he was hurting this bad, Thor...
Oh God, Thor.
After what seemed like an eternity, he finally reached Thor's room, and was oddly relieved by the light of the moon shining through from under the door.
Lights off might even mean the big guy was asleep. Something he felt they all sorely needed, but that no one seemed to be able to do.
He lifted his hand, moving to knock on the door quietly to see if Thor was even awake. But the door creaked open when his knuckles brushed against them, revealing a bed that was still perfectly made, obviously untouched.
A small sniffing sound grabbed his attention, and he caught the soft glow of the bathroom light shining through from the ensuite.
"Thor?" He called out quietly as he shut the door behind him, taking small steps into the room. "You okay in there?"
Muttering followed, although nothing directed at him. Snatches of Asgardian phrases mumbled in a voice that seemed half asleep reached his ears, and that alone was enough to make his brow crease in worry.
His hand hovered momentarily against the bathroom door handle, nibbling his bottom lip anxiously.
"Thor, buddy, I'm gonna come in. So just, uh..." Ah, what the hell. Thor had already seen the Hulk naked (a fact that horrified Bruce to this day, and one he resolved that Tony would never find out about), and he'd helped him kill his sister. He'd thought the guy was dead up until he'd landed in Wakanda. If Thor wanted him out of his bathroom, he could tell him so himself.
The door gently opened to his touch, and he drew a sharp breath in at what he saw.
Thor, bent over a sink, scrubbing his hands raw with what appeared to be discarded material from his cape. Silent tears ran down his face, cutting lines in whatever dirt he hadn't managed to clear away.
Bruce didn't need to know Asgardian to feel what Thor was saying.
"It's all my fault." Thor's voice was barely above a whisper, low and cracking with emotion when he finally registered Bruce's presence.
Or, maybe he didn't. There wasn't really any recognition in his eyes. No semblance that made Bruce think Thor knew who he was talking to, if he was talking to anybody.
Thor was a drowning man, grabbing onto the nearest lifeboat.
"Come on, Thor." Bruce shook his head, keeping his movements slow and cautious. He didn't fancy being electrocuted today- flying sparks from the hulkbuster armour had already gotten him way too close for that.
His calloused fingers wrapped around Thor's wrist tentatively, trying to direct him towards the door of the bathroom rather than outright pull him.
A saving grace was that he seemed to be complying. Maybe he was too out of it to protest, or maybe he just didn't care. Either one was equally frightening to Bruce, who just tried to keep his friend afloat.
Shushing claims of responsibility for the Snap, murmuring uncertain promises of a better tomorrow, and assuring Thor of his presence. That was all he could do, for now.
He sat Thor down on the edge of the bed, and had been about to pull away to get some water when Thor had grabbed his wrist with a renewed intensity.
"I should have aimed for the head, Banner." Tremors in his voice rose and fell with the storm outside, mismatched eyes finally looking up at Bruce and seeing him. "It's...it's my fault."
"No." He eased himself onto the mattress next to him, pulling Thor's hand off his wrist with a little too much ease. "You tried your best, Thor. I know that's a corny line but you did everything you could."
"I didn't. Banner, I didn't. I could've aimed for the head. Or the arm. Or something, I just-"
"Hey." Bruce drew his hand up, clenching around the muscle of Thor's shoulder.
"You didn't snap that gauntlet, Thor. No one blames you." He punctuated every syllable with a small shake, because he needed Thor to hear this.
From him, from Steve, from the whole damn world. Because he could see the seeds of doubt beginning to grow. He knew how quickly this kind of thing could destroy a person, and he wasn't going to let it happen to his friend. He couldn't.
Thor nodded his head slowly, his eyes turning away from Bruce and focusing on some part of the wall in front of him. The shuddering took a little longer to stop, and the tears even more so. It took about an hour of Bruce's hand rubbing Thor's back for the storm outside to calm to a light drizzle, which was fortunate because by then Bruce's fingers had almost gone numb.
In a move that sent a jolt of electricity into his arm, Thor slumped to the side, pressing his forehead into the crook of Bruce's shoulder.
"I'm sorry." He sniffed, wiping his eye with the back of his hand. "You should be resting as well, Banner. Not spending the night here, comforting some sentimental fool-"
"Don't." Bruce twisted in his position, wrapping his arm around the gods huge shoulders. "It's alright, Thor. You'd do the same for me, for any of us. Thats kind of the point of having a team."
He felt Thor nod again into his shoulder, and a couple more comfortable moments of silence followed. No sobbing, no shuddering. Just the gentle sound of the rain pattering against the windows, and soon the soft sound of Thor breathing deeply, slumped across Bruce's lap. A small smile crossed Bruce's face at that. The God of Thunder. One of the strongest Avengers. A man who had taken the force of a dying star, according to a talking racoon (which, after Korg and Meik, he really wasn't going to question).
That same man was asleep in his lap, fingers still holding a light grip on Bruce's shirt sleeve.
It took a great deal of tactical manoeuvres to shift the gods weight off of his lap without waking him up, and even more emotional strength to bother to get up in the first place.
But Thor was right, to his credit.
Bruce was exhausted.
He brought up the bedsheet further around Thor's shoulders, taking a moment to let his mind settle after the events of the evening. It wasn't over. Not by a long shot. He was Bruce Banner. He'd held the God of thunder in his lap, God damnit. If he could do, that, then chances are him and the team would come up with a way to beat... whatever this was.
"This isn't the end, Thor." Bruce paused at the door, taking one last glance at the sleeping demigod before he went back to his room. "You just...hang in there."
And if the team didn't find something, it was half the universe that had been lost. That was bound to cause a fuss. A big enough fuss that someone out there, among the stars, word have something to say about it.
As he settled into bed that night (night? Morning? Whenever), his eyes slipped shut, but his brain was buzzing.
Someone find a plan.
One way or another, Thanos was going to pay.
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anyway i finally saw endgame and surprisingly??? i did not hate it to the very primal core of my being???
but also i had like....the LOWEST standards for it, so that might be it more than how good the movie actually was.
really i just feel very “what a bizzare fanvid i just watched”
Onward!
The Good:
the whole Steve-in-the-Elevator scene. My little stuckate shipper heart was just like FUCK THEM UP BOO.
“that is America’s ass”
uh....
rocket!
and nebula! god i adore nebula more and more every day
and Valkyrie was soooo good and I’m glad Meiks and Korg were there
also Rescue fucking finally
and the whole a-force visual towards the end there, i appreciated that
also Carol’s lesbian haircut
STEVE BEING FUCKING WORTHY OF THE HAMMER FUCK YES
Sam getting the shield!
everyone coming out of their magical glowing portals
fucking. QUEEN BRUNNHILDE sorry KING BRUNNHILDE
find her a wife ffs
but also
fuck this movie
so like...it was REALLY slow for the first hour. at least. i was getting bored actually
Tony’s daughter was adorable and I love dad!tony but it’s also in line with Marvel giving men families to give them More Pain and I’m over that
also are you trying to tell me he wouldn’t have named her some derivative of peter? or carol, or nebula, since they’re the reason he is alive? i call bullshit
“marvel’s first openly gay character” you know what fuck you marvel
that woman in the support meeting might be kate in a future fic i’m just saying
for as much time as they spend tooling around this new universe they really didn’t give us much information--who is in charge? how are you getting electricity?
all i wanted was for gamora or nebula to kill thanos and i was denied this catharsis. fuck you. you can let an abuser kill the woman he abused but not vice versa? fuck. you.
who was that random boy kid at tony’s funeral?
bold of the russos to assume peggy wouldn’t notice someone staring at her
how is nebula not dead? she killed a past version of herself so????
holy plot holes batman
because...the soul stone...YOU are supposed to sacrifice what is most important to YOU so...how does Natasha killing herself fulfill that requirement? Clint did not sacrifice her. This implies that Natasha loves herself the most and that means she would have gotten the stone...i’m so confused about this
how did no one notice nebula’s hands were wrong? you’ve known her for five goddamn years gang. yeah i get she covered it up but rhodey saw it get mcfried while getting the stone....this seems like something rhodey would notice. because. he’s fucking rhodey.
i get why like...narratively tony ~had~ to die but also...what’s wrong with fucking retirement? why couldn’t he pass the mantle of iron man on? like in? the comics? was that kid supposed to be iron lad i mean for realz
and I get that Steve got to have his happy ending with his one true love and that’s so great, but idk fam...i didn’t like it. and i think i don’t like it because it places this huge focus on Never Moving On and I guess some people probably do have their one true love and they never love another, but i think there’s real value in stories where people find love again, where people go through trauma and can still be happy even after going through loss. this is viscerally important to me
also i firmly believe that peggy is married to angie
does this mean steve knew sharon? since she knew peggy really well? and she kisses him? does steve just hide every time she comes over? it wasn’t creepy in civil war but it’s sure creepy now
although peggy explaining to everyone that her husband doesn't look ANYTHING like steve rogers is sort of hilarious. how did they even explain this.
no it’s getting worse because peggy has Alzheimer's supposedly well no fucking wonder she was confused with young!steve showing up and presumably her old husband steve showing up as well like. what.
i mean. i’m glad steve got his happy ending
but i also feel like this was really insulting to bucky. Steve went back and never went out to find bucky? to stop him being tortured? the guy who is your best friend? you didn’t even say mcfucking goodbye? marvel was that “no homo” about their relationship in this movie???
chris and seb’s chemistry is just so strong they had to keep their shared dialogue to three lines?
i understand steve staying in the past. i get why they did it. i hate HOW they did it
wheremst the fuck is loki you fuckos
also all of Peter’s peers are 5 years older than he is
what on earth do the people who were dusted think of all the fucking ptsd all their loved ones have or the fact that THEY MISSED FIVE YEARS
was cassie living in that house all by herself?
also you know what it was really irritating when tony was blaming steve for not being around while completely ignoring any culpability he had in making it so that steve could not actually be around. and steve apparently made like the rest of us and blocked the events of civil war from his mind so he didn’t remember his valid fears
y’all fucked up your own timelines so bad like? sitwell is wandering around thinking cap is hydra, loki never spent time in asgard jail, or did the stones get replaced before those things happened? like immediately before? and if not i’m going to have to assume that loki went on the lam and then called noh to pick him up in earth airspace and noh becomes his unwitting getaway driver and eventually the ya get involved in interstellar crime shenanigans.
the fact that vision didn’t come back sort of implies that everyone who was killed before the snap didn’t come back, so that still leaves a shitton of asgardians dead, loki, and ???? who knows about gamora. right?
in conclusion, it was...okay. it had some really good moments but was mostly just “???????” for me. like, i’m not even mad. i’m going to erase it from my memory immediately except for Steve dating Kate in the five years and when Bucky comes back she’s just like “hey! I think we have the same boyfriend!” and they share custody of Steve until steve gets called in to consult on a mission and asks bucky to go on his date with kate and that’s how they become a triad
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So I had this idea for Endgame, just a random scene idea, so here goes.
The Avengers are in the middle of battle. Thanos is there, along with his army and it’s clear that our favourite heroes are losing.
The camera focuses on Clint especially, who’s lost all of his arrows and is now barely hanging in their, using his bow and a knife to fend off the bad aliens guys. One grabs him from behind and is about to snap his neck, when suddenly, it drops to the ground, dead.
Standing behind him is a figure in a heavy black cloak, with a hood concealing their face. They move quickly too, dispatching the aliens much faster than the Avengers, who by now, are really tired. The Avengers theme kicks in at this point, and for a minute, all we see is this stranger killing aliens like it’s nobodies business.
Suddenly, the sound of gunfire rings out, and everyone scrambles for cover (except for mysterious stranger, who just continues doing their thing), until they realise that the shots are aimed at Thanos and his army. Aliens fall in the dozens, and we catch a glimpse of a sleek spaceship casually gliding by and shooting the motherfuckers down.
Clint is fighting again, but is completely unaware of an alien barreling toward him from behind. The mysterious stranger shoves Clint to one side and buries a knife in the alien’s neck.
The music swells, and we catch a glimpse of the interior of the spaceship through Thor’s eyes. We see his whole face just brighten, because Valkyrie just waved at him from behind the controls, Korg and Meik behind her.
And finally, as the music swells once again, we see the stranger in the hood stop and face the Avenger. Slowly, he lowers his hood. And he turns his face to the Avengers, most of whom are staring open-mouthed in shock, and he grins.
“Didn’t I tell you the sun will shine on us again, brother,” Loki says.
Then, interval.
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Mica enciclopedie Hygge. Rețeta daneză a fericirii (recenzie)
Mica enciclopedie Hygge. Rețeta daneză a fericirii (recenzie)
Pentru hygge există tot felul de definiții, de la „arta de a crea intimitate”, „confort sufletesc” și „lipsa supărărilor”, la „bucuria dată de lucrurile ce induc o stare de bine”, „starea de confort în privința semenilor” și, varianta mea preferată, „ciocolată fiebinte la lumina lumânărilor”.
Autor: Meik Wiking
Număr pagini: 288
An apariție: 2017
Editura: Litera
Traducere: Valentina…
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The world was so quiet. So blissfully, blessedly quiet. For once in thirty years, it felt like. There was no rest for the wicked, as they said, and Jonesy Dawes felt it. From a screaming bloody birth to shrieking fights in the kitchen, his father’s knuckles bruised into his cheek, to raucous hollering with the men and women who came in and out of his life, his bed, his alleys and inn rooms and that one time in a docked dinghy. It’s hard to see sometimes how frantic a life is when you’re living it; the man with the drill rarely ever hears it.
Thirty years(rounding down--who cares about the change, really?) of fighting tooth and nail and there were years he told himself that it was just to stay alive. Other years, if he really looked at himself, he fought because it felt good and it felt right and he’d stare in the mirror until he saw his father’s face staring back at him, grinning with blood on his teeth. Maybe the fact just was that Jonesy Dawes wasn’t made quite right. Maybe he was missing a few crucial parts that made him work, made all the cogs turn together and the springs spring at once.
It was never a question of whether there was something wrong with him because he always knew that there was. But whether it was a birth defect or an acquired handicap he could never quite tell.
Because the fact was that Jonesy Dawes was inherently contrary. The truth of being at war with oneself is never quite as romantic as women seem to think it is, gazing upon paperbacks bearing men with flowing locks posed up on a seafoam-sprayed rock, shirt ripped open, synopsis labeling him as some rough-around-the-edges troubled soul in need of a good woman to save him. It didn’t usually work like that. Because as much as Jonesy felt overwhelmed by people and social encounters, the silences that let his brain run free were never better. As much as he wanted to be loved he couldn’t help but push people away, couldn’t stop himself sometimes. As sweet as those dreams of retiring by the seaside were, often he felt his hands tremble on the knife as he spilled salty guts and blood onto the dock and he wondered who would see if he just bent down and... tasted them.
Such was the life of Jonesy Dawes. Ever a man with a story to tell, he only shared the good ones, the good parts. He was a man who didn’t know himself-- who thought he did, but in the end there was bound to be more than a few doors left unopened in the hallways of himself. Those ones were always the hardest to open. Instead he fought, constantly, with friend and foe, lover and family. And in the end, he died alone, as he always knew he would.
“What exactly do you think you’re doing here?”
The world was so quiet. So blissfully, blessedly quiet. Jonesy didn’t want to open his eyes but that voice... he would know it anywhere. He shivered and peeked slowly. There was a sort of nothingness everywhere. Not dark, but not light either. Just empty of everything. And then a world came rushing at him like a fist to the face and he was sitting at a dying fire in Ashenvale. It was late, almost turning to morning by the look of the sky through the thick, lush tree cover. Alearah Duskgrove sat across from him and added some sticks to the fire, holding back her hair to stoop and blow into the embers.
She looked young. Her face was softer then, all those years ago before hardship made her features like stone, a mountain that moved for no one. A shame, really; she’d been pretty once. Jonesy curled his arms around himself and glanced around the fire. There were empty bottles strewn about, bits of bones from dinner left behind. He could still hear Mozelle’s laughter, smell Meike’s warmed ginger hair as she sat a little too close to him. That tiny tongue of flame flickered with his heartbeat, slow and fragile, only encouraged slightly by Alearah’s puffs of air.
Slowly, she sat up and settled her elbows on her knees. “Well? What are you doing, Jonesy?”
He scoffed. “The fuck am I supposed to know? Why don’t you tell me?” Jonesy lifted his hands, gesturing to the forest that just seemed to hum. No birds, no animals. Just a low hum. “What is this place?”
“Come, now,” she chided with a dubious look, “You know what it is. It’s Ashenvale. We can spend all night sitting here going back and forth but you really haven’t got the time for that, I’m afraid.” The elf pauses, peeking up at the sky. “Well. Not yet.”
“If you’re gonna just be a cryptic ass then we can just sit here quietly. Just answer my questions like a normal fucking person, would you?” He frowned over at her before realizing it, a lump forming in his throat. “Are you dead?”
“Mm. Third time did the trick, it seems.” Alearah straightened gently, exposing the gruesome hole in her gut; the only thing really amiss in the otherwise pleasant, familiar scene.
“Fuck... am I dead?”
Hunkering back down, she fixed him with an apologetic look. A look, but no words. Jonesy dragged a hand down his face, shoulders prickling as if that frazzled anxious sweat were about to start up, but it never did.
“... fuck.”
“Yeah.”
There the two sat in silence for a while. Jonesy sank back into the grass, landing on some crushed cigarette butts. Death felt so weightless. Pain-free and soft, like staying in bed on a Sunday morning. It took a while before he peered back over at her, realizing now that his sight was equal in both eyes--perfect, even.
“We missed you, you know,” he offered gently. “Don’t think they’ll ever forgive you for going off and dying. I know I didn’t.”
“Well, some of us didn’t have a choice in the matter,” explained the elf, patient as anything, though her eyes couldn’t seem to meet his. “You’ve all been doing well. I’m sure that I can claim no credit and I would never deign to, but it makes me incredibly proud to see how well all of you have been doing. Willaude, Vathelia, Coit and Jenny, Aktius, Corthal. I don’t feel that any of you just got a job out of working with me. So many of you were so young, are so young. But this world is hard and cruel. Trying to go at it on your own only makes it harder and each of us needed each other. I believe that. Now look at them.” Smiling fondly, she waved a hand over the fire. The flame grew, just enough for small figures to be seen in the heart; Mozelle, tending wounded soldiers in a packed infirmary. Coit laughing in a bar with faceless strangers, scars bared to the world. Aktius swinging his son up into the air.
“Don’t you see?” Alearah peered over at Jonesy, letting him watch the figures swirl about their lives comfortably. “I gave them everything I had and they took everything that they needed. My work was done.”
The rogue sat up slowly. “You didn’t have to die for all of that to happen, Ale. Some of us still needed you.” Idly, he plucked a daisy out of the ground and spun it round and round between his forefinger and thumb, unable to peer across the fire to her gentle, smiling face.
“And I’m still here for you. Aren’t I?” Jonesy could feel her fingers brushing over his cheek, though her hands were laced in front of her. His head turned into the gesture like a stray cat starved for affection. “I see you, Jonesy. I see all of you. And I try to guide you as best I can. It isn’t always easy, stubborn mules the lot of you may be.”
“So... is that what we’re doing here? You’re... guiding me off to the next plane, or whatever?” he asked a bit hesitantly. The unknown was frightening, as always. But Alearah didn’t seem bothered by what waited for them, or her circumstance. Granted, it’d been some time.
But her response was unexpected. She shook her head and watched him sadly across the fire. “No.”
“No? Is this like, limbo? Am I stuck here?”
“No.”
Jonesy scrubbed his face quickly. “So what are you doing here?”
The humming began to grow louder, slowly but certainly like the buzz of a beehive in not-so-far distance. Alearah stared up at the sky again a moment before speaking. “Just keeping you from going off too soon. Being a distraction, I suppose. Will you tell the others that I miss them?”
“What? A distraction for what-- Ale, what the fuck is going--”
That dark silence erupted into sound and light, something crashing overhead. The world was tinted green through his lids and his whole right side felt like it was playing host to thousands of insects, inside and out. His eyes snapped open and he gasped roughly for air, choking on a tube.
“He’s back! Where the hell is the medic?!”
A familiar orc stood above him, pulling the tube from his throat while a not-as-familiar Nightborne fussed around his right arm, pulling and jostling but without any pain. Jonesy opened his mouth to croak up at Doshaqa but she wasn’t looking at him. Instead she was yelling back to her extraction crew, men and women rushing around.
“Let’s go! We need to get him to infirm right now!”
Jonesy Dawes closed his eyes, exhausted. Between forefinger and thumb he spun a small daisy round and round as the medics rushed him off to surgery.
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Caro Steve,
È passato molto tempo da quando non ti scrivo, ma ti assicuro che non è collegato ad una distanza di coppia. A volte semplicemente non si è dell'umore adatto, il tempo scorre, o lo si vorrebbe fare ma non si trova il tempo. Sono successe molte cose ovviamente in mezzo. Il nostro anniversario ad esempio. Passato in giro per Torino, da miagola che ci ha fatti mettere su degli scomodi sgabelli per una fetta di torta a 8 euro mentre io avevo la candida, dai meishi meike con quei meravigliosi raviolini che ormai sono la nostra mascotte, e poi abbiamo visto camp rock al posto di un film romantico. Eravamo troppo stanchi per la solita torta, ma l'abbiamo presa al mio compleanno. Mi hai regalato dei pantaloncini e un pigiamino con le pecorelle. Nonostante tu ti sia ridotto all'ultimo per il regalo, e su questo purtroppo abbiamo avuto una lite. Poi c'è stato natale, la fine di questo anno che ha messo tutti in ginocchio, ma sappiamo già tutti che il 2021 non riuscirà a smaltire tutta questa sbobba. Sono tempi di guerra si dice, e si dice bene. Non è facile per nessuno. Tu stai ancora in Sicilia, eviti Walter e cerchi la serenità per i tuoi esami. È da un po che stai lì e io vorrei tanto tornassi. Nel frattempo sto facendo a botte con i miei limiti. Non riesco a leggere i brani nuovi e sono depressa per questo. Mi sembra di scivolare un gradino più in basso ogni giorno. Vado dallo psicologo, ma per quanto aiuti non mi sento di star bene. La nostra relazione è molto più sana ora del pre rottura, e io ne sono molto fiera. Stavo quasi pensando di regalarti il diario per il compleanno, ma la verità è che mi mancherebbe scriverti, e non so se posso rinunciarci. Scusa se ho solo elencato tante cose, dovevano essere lettere, non un diario, ma ultimamente ho perso un po' il filo, in tutti i sensi. Era da tanto che non ti scrivevo e avevo bisogno di rendere indimenticabili alcuni momenti, anche per quando saremo vecchi, magari non saremo insieme, ma saranno qua, per sempre, come se la loro felicità e il loro vissuto fosse congelato nel tempo. Momenti intrappolati sulla carta. Ho così tante domande, così tanti dubbi, così poche certezze, su tutto ciò che riguarda la vita, da non riuscire a ricordare niente, memorizzare niente, godermi poco. Certe volte ho l'impressione di dover fare un reset. Mi sento un telefono con la memoria piena di film horror. È tutto così faticoso. Tutto ciò che vorrei è averti anche solo un minuto qui nel letto con me. Lunedì hai un esame. Questa sessione dai robotica e macchine. Speriamo bene. Mi mancherai quando andrai a lavorare... Desidererei molto piu tempo con te. Come si fa a stare così poco con la persona che si ama?
22.01.21
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